Chapter 8: Crossing Lines
The morning air at the studio was crisp, but Lin Yue felt the weight of tension heavier than the chill outside. He had barely begun reviewing his lines when a flurry of notifications appeared on his phone. Fans were buzzing, tagging him in posts, and… one message caught his eye.
"Is Lin Yue really ready for the spotlight? Or will someone else steal it for him?"
Lin Yue frowned. It wasn't unusual for rumors, but the tone was sharp, clearly meant to provoke. His stomach twisted slightly. The rival… again.
He glanced around, eyes catching Krit entering quietly, tablet in hand. Even in the chaos of notifications and fans online, Krit's presence grounded him. The man's calm, measured gaze swept the room, scanning every detail as if reading more than the surface.
"Trouble online," Lin Yue murmured, voice tight.
Krit's eyes flicked to him briefly, then back to the tablet. "Handled?"
Lin Yue shook his head. "Not yet. It's… petty, but persistent."
Krit's posture shifted subtly, just enough to signal attention. He didn't touch Lin Yue, didn't say more than necessary, but the message was clear: he was aware, and he would intervene if needed. That quiet attentiveness sent a small spark through Lin Yue, more emotional than physical, leaving him flushed and strangely aware of Krit's nearness.
Rehearsal began, but Lin Yue found his mind drifting. Every glance at Krit, every subtle shift in his stance, reminded him of the calm authority that had already begun to captivate him. He noticed little things: the way Krit's fingers hovered over his tablet as he planned, the small furrow of concentration on his brow, the brief moments when his gaze seemed to linger just a beat too long.
During a break, Lin Yue walked toward the props room to adjust something, only to notice the rival observing from a distance. The man's smirk was faint, but it was there , an invisible taunt that made Lin Yue's chest tighten.
Krit appeared beside him silently. The movement was so natural, so fluid, that Lin Yue barely noticed until he realized how close he was standing. Krit's presence alone made the air feel tighter, more charged.
"Keep your focus," Krit murmured softly, voice low enough that only Lin Yue could hear. The words weren't a scolding, not even a warning. Just… a reminder that someone was watching out for him. That small attention, restrained yet intimate in its subtlety, made Lin Yue's heart flutter — a spark that had nothing to do with words, everything to do with presence.
The rival left soon after, frustrated by the invisible barrier that Krit created without effort. Lin Yue exhaled, relief mixing with awareness. He couldn't ignore the way his chest tightened whenever Krit's attention brushed near him. That spark , small, restrained, professional, yet impossibly personal , continued to grow quietly in the spaces between rehearsals, glances, and moments like this.
By the end of the day, Lin Yue realized something that both surprised and unnerved him: Krit wasn't just a guardian or a professional fixture in his life. The man was slowly becoming someone he noticed, someone he thought about more than he wanted to admit. And even though nothing had been said, that spark, that tiny, unspoken flutter, was impossible to ignore.