Izack blinked slowly, trying to understand what Felix might have said to trigger such an expression from the person who had treated him this coldly so far.
He adjusted the umbrella in his grip and stepped back, eyes drifting toward the building as if this whole scene didn't concern him. The two seemed to have already drifted in their own world—a world where he didn't matter, nor existed.
"Let's go," Felix said, not to Izack, but to Hiro, as if he were summoning a dog.
His hand followed his words, firmly gripping the man's wrist. Not enough to bruise. Just enough to amplify on one unspoken statement: mine.
Hiro didn't pull away.
Not here.
Not when his reaction could result in a dramatic scene on the set.
Not with everyone watching.
Drawing attention was the last thing he wanted. As he was dragged away, he glanced once—just once—at Izack. But Izack wasn't looking anymore.
The two men walked away in silence.
Felix didn't let go until they reached the hallway near the dressing rooms—empty. There was one else there except for them.
Then, like he'd finished using it, he dropped Hiro's wrist and turned his back.
"You like getting attention that much?" he muttered, pulling out a cigarette but not lighting it. Just turning it between his fingers.
Hiro didn't answer.
"I saw the way you stare at him," Felix said without looking. "You really think he gives a damn about you?"
The other man remained still. Not because he was weak but because it wouldn't change Felix's perspective. It never did—no matter how much he explained himself in the past.
Felix finally turned around. His gaze was sharp, not angry—but enough to cut through the walls Hiro built up for everyone—everyone else but him.
"You forget what you are sometimes," he said. "You're not here to be admired. You're not special. You just seem easy, that's why they approach you."
Hiro's nails dug into the camera bag strap, his teeth sank into his lower lip as his gaze locked with Felix's.
"Don't look at me like I hit you," Felix scoffed. "You came to me that night, and the one who suggested this, but with the condition that you wouldn't let anyone else lay a finger on you."
Hiro opened his mouth only to close it again. Because anything he said would be used against him. That was always the game. He had chosen this—he was the one who couldn't let go of Felix. But did that mean he didn't deserve to be treated like a human being… just because he loved someone so heartless?
Felix tucked the unlit cigarette back into his coat pocket, finally finished playing with it.
"I'll be in my van. If you're done sulking, come blow off some steam."
Then he left—without waiting, without looking back.
Hiro didn't move. The hallway buzzed faintly with fluorescent lights. The world kept turning. But he just stood there. Camera bag on his shoulder, jaw tight, stomach in knots. And no one saw any of it.
No one cared.
He clutched onto the strap of the camera bag and returned to work.
✻✻✻
After having finished shooting the scenes, he entered the van. The remaining work was to be done for next week as tomorrow was the weekend.
The moment he stepped inside, he felt as if he had entered a dark hole despite the blinding brightness inside. The vehicle, similar to a room, was lit brightly when outside, clouds covered the once blue sky into darkness.
The door clicked shut behind him. He didn't flinch, although he didn't expect it.
Felix was already stretched out on the bench seat, one leg bent, scrolling through his phone like he hadn't dragged Hiro out in front of everyone like property earlier in the day. He didn't look up nor say a word.
Hiro stood by the door for a while. Long enough to hope—stupidly—that maybe this time would be different.
Maybe Felix would ask if he was all right, or even just meet his eyes.
But none of those happened.
It was just a fleeting wish that would never be fulfilled.
Then, with a tilt of his head and a lazy pat to the empty seat next to him, Felix summoned him. Like always.
Hiro moved without thinking. Like muscle memory. Like a habit. His mind was clouded but his body followed Felix, clinging to him as if his life depended on it. As if the alpha was water for a fish residing on land.
Clothes came off in silence, followed by the soft rustle of the fabrics. They knew the routine. It wasn't rough, not really. Not rushed either.
Just… today, everything felt empty to Hiro. Familiar hands touched his waist—the same hands he craved to caress him tenderly for the past months—guiding him down. Felix kissed him like he was checking a test screening, like affection was something he owed in exchange for perfection.
Hiro let it happen.
He responded when Felix wanted him to. Soft moans, small gasps—just enough to keep the illusion of pleasure alive although tonight he felt none. His fingers curled into the fabric of Felix's shirt, not for balance, but to feel something to anchor him to this moment.
Even if it hurt him.
Even if it meant nothing to the other person.
At one point, Felix whispered, "Don't pout. You asked for this, remember?"
Then, he reached for the lubricant at the nearby shelf, lazily putting some on his hand before rubbing it on the other man's entrance.
Moans left Hiro's mouth. He turned his face away–not because he was ashamed, but because he didn't know what expression he was making.
That would be worse. He would make a scene—that he was giving his precious time to a mere photographer when he had plenty of idols dying to sleep with him.
Why did he love such a cruel man?
Felix gripped his hips tighter, pulling him closer, moving his lips like he was working out frustration, not passion. It wasn't violent. Just controlled enough not to break him. Dark red marks bloomed on his pale skin every time Felix suckled on his pale flesh—a few bite marks followed as if he were marking his territory.
And Hiro let him, letting out simple groans, bearing with the soft pain which gradually grew into pleasure.
Because he still loved this cruel man.
Because something in him believed that if he gave enough—his body, his silence, his pride, himself away—Felix would finally see him. Not just as someone easy to touch. But someone worth his love.
But he never did—not for the past four years.
When it ended, Felix lay back with a sigh, arm slung over his eyes. He didn't say anything, heavy breaths escaping his lips.
When Hiro understood the alpha had no intention of continuing, he sat on the edge of the mattress, putting on his clothes slowly. His hands trembled, just slightly—not from exhaustion, but from trying too hard not to feel anything at all. Although, at the end, he had given in to the pleasure, once again letting this man trample on the little pride he had left.
"You only have pride around others. But when it comes to Felix, you are no less than a dog." The words echoed in his ears.
He was right. I am just a…
Hiro bit his lips, inhaling sharply.