Danger ⚠️

The morning sun spilled lazily through the thin curtains of Ling’s apartment, casting soft patterns across the floor. Ling stood in front of the mirror, adjusting the collar of her crisp white shirt, her expression calm—too calm.

P’Mam watched from the doorway, arms crossed, her sharp gaze quietly observant. “You didn’t sleep much.”

Ling shrugged, smoothing out an invisible crease on her sleeve. “Had a lot on my mind.”

P’Mam didn’t press. She knew Ling well enough to recognize when she was building walls. Let Orm handle it, she thought. If anyone could get Ling to crack that polished armor, it was Orm.

By the time Ling arrived at the photoshoot, the bustling energy of the crew was already in full swing. Bright lights, camera flashes, stylists fluttering around with brushes and powders—it was a distraction Ling welcomed. She slipped easily into her professional mode, her smile effortless, her laughter light.

Orm was already there, leaning against a backdrop stand, her phone in hand. But her attention wasn’t on the screen. It was on Ling.

Their eyes met briefly—just a flicker—but it was enough. Orm’s jaw tensed, her chest tightening with frustration. Ling looked fine. Too fine. As if nothing had happened. No trace of fear, no hint of the fragile voice Orm had imagined the night before. Just Ling, perfectly composed, like she hadn’t spent the night haunted by shadows.

Orm shoved her phone into her pocket, pushing off the stand.

Throughout the shoot, Orm’s gaze followed Ling like a shadow of its own. She watched the way Ling’s smile never quite reached her eyes, the way her hands clenched slightly when she thought no one was looking. Orm’s patience wore thinner with every forced laugh Ling gave to the photographer.

When the break was finally called, Orm had had enough.

She strode over, her voice low but sharp. “Come with me.”

Ling blinked, caught off guard by the sudden edge in Orm’s tone. “What? Why?”

Orm didn’t answer. She simply grabbed Ling’s wrist—not roughly, but firm enough to leave no room for argument—and pulled her toward the exit. Ling glanced around, flustered, but no one paid them much attention, too busy adjusting lights and reviewing shots.

They reached Orm’s condo within minutes, the silence between them thick and heavy. The door slammed shut behind them with a decisive thud.

Orm spun around, her frustration spilling out like a dam breaking. “What the hell was that?”

Ling crossed her arms, her chin lifting slightly. “What was what?”

Orm stared at her, incredulous. “Don’t do that. Don’t act like nothing’s wrong.”

Ling sighed, walking toward the window, staring out at the city below. “I’m fine, Orm.”

Orm’s laugh was hollow. “No, you’re not.”

Ling didn’t respond, her reflection in the glass betraying nothing but calm indifference.

Orm took a step closer, her voice softer now but no less intense. “You were scared last night.  Why are you pretending it didn’t happen?”

Ling finally turned to face her, her expression controlled. “Because if I act like I’m scared, it makes it real.”

Orm’s breath hitched. She hadn’t expected that.

Ling continued, her voice steady. “I can’t let it get to me. If I do, it wins. And I don’t want to get through it.. Again.”

Orm stared at her, her chest rising and falling with uneven breaths. She wanted to argue, to shake Ling out of this stubborn defiance. But instead, she just whispered, “And what if pretending doesn’t make it go away?”

Ling’s eyes softened for a fraction of a second—just a flicker—but it was enough for Orm to see through the cracks.

But Ling didn’t break.

She straightened her shoulders, her walls firmly back in place. “Then I’ll deal with it.”

Orm swallowed the words she wanted to say, the ones tangled with fear and something deeper. Instead, she just nodded slowly, her jaw tight.

“Okay,” Orm whispered. “But you’re not dealing with it alone. Don’t you dare leave me out of it again.”

Ling didn’t respond, but she didn’t argue either. She knew better than to leave Orm on the side, but in this case, she didn’t want to burden her with her paranoia. The idea of dragging Orm into something that might just be in her head felt… selfish. Ling hated feeling vulnerable, but more than that, she hated being the reason Orm might worry.

Silence settled between them, thick and heavy. The city lights outside Orm’s window painted soft patterns on the floor, flickering slightly as if mirroring the tension lingering in the room.

Orm finally broke the stillness with a sharp exhale, running a hand through her hair. She took a few steps closer, her gaze softening. “Ling, I know you think you’re protecting me. But shutting me out doesn’t do that. It just… makes me feel like I don’t matter.”

Ling’s chest tightened. She wasn’t expecting that.

“That’s not true,” Ling replied quietly, her voice almost a whisper. She grabs Orm by the waist to bring their bodies together, she puts her forehead on Orm’s.

Orm let out a dry chuckle, shaking her head. “I want to protect you too Ling. You’ve always been there for me, let me do the same for you”

Ling stared at her

“I’m not good at this,” Ling admitted, her voice softer now. “I don’t know how to let people in when I feel like that.”

Orm’s heart clenched at the confession. She stepped closer, closing the space between them until she was standing just behind Ling.

“You don’t have to be good at it,” Orm whispered, her breath warm against Ling’s ear. “You just have to let me try.”

Ling’s eyes fluttered shut for a moment, her walls trembling under the weight of Orm’s words.

But still, she didn’t break.

She simply nodded, her reflection showing the faintest hint of vulnerability—a crack in the armor.

And for Orm, that was enough.

The photoshoot resumed after their tense conversation, but something had shifted between them. Orm remained close, her presence a quiet anchor Ling didn’t know she needed. Their interactions were subtle—small glances, brief touches as they adjusted poses—but charged with unspoken words.

When the final shot was taken, the crew began packing up, laughter and casual chatter filling the space. But for Ling, the noise felt distant, like she was watching from behind a glass wall.

Mae Koy approached them, her sharp eyes flicking between the two, clearly sensing the lingering tension. She didn’t comment on it, though. Instead, she offered Ling a small smile, her tone casual but filled with warmth.

“Hey, why don’t you come stay with us tonight?”

Ling blinked, caught off guard. “Oh, no. That’s not necessary. I’m fine.”

Mae Koy raised an eyebrow, unimpressed by the automatic response. “I didn’t ask if you were fine. I asked if you wanted to stay.”

Ling hesitated, her gaze dropping to the floor. The offer was tempting—more than she wanted to admit. But the idea of imposing, of intruding on their space, made her stomach twist with discomfort.

“I don’t want to be a bother,” Ling mumbled, her fingers tugging slightly at the hem of her sleeve.

Orm, who had been quietly observing, stepped closer. “You wouldn’t be.”

Ling glanced up, meeting Orm’s steady gaze. There was no pressure in her eyes, just quiet insistence—a silent reminder that she didn’t have to carry everything alone.

After a beat, Ling sighed softly. “Okay. Just for tonight.”

Mae Koy’s smile widened slightly, satisfied. “Good. Let’s go.”

As they left the studio together, Ling felt a strange sense of relief settling over her. Maybe, just maybe, she didn’t have to fight her battles alone after all.

The car ride to Orm’s house was quiet, but not uncomfortable. Ling stared out the window, the city lights blurring into streaks as they sped through familiar streets. She could feel Orm’s occasional glances, though Orm didn’t say anything—just let the silence settle the way it needed to.

When they arrived, the house was warmly lit, its cozy charm standing in contrast to the tension Ling carried with her. Mae Koy led the way inside, calling out casually, “We’re back!”

From the living room, a familiar voice responded. “Took you long enough.”

Papa Oct appeared, his easy smile lighting up his face. He had the kind of presence that filled a room without trying—warm, grounded, steady. His eyes landed on Ling, softening immediately.

“Ling! You should’ve come by sooner,” he said, stepping forward to give her a quick, fatherly pat on the shoulder. “We’ve missed having you around.”

Ling smiled politely, her heart warming despite herself. “I’ve been busy.”

Papa Oct gave her a knowing look, one that seemed to say ‘busy’ isn’t an excuse, but he didn’t push.

Att, Orm’s younger brother, popped his head out from the kitchen, a mischievous grin already in place. “Oh look, the superstar graces us with her presence.”

Ling rolled her eyes, the tension in her chest easing just a little. “Careful, or I’ll sign an autograph on your forehead.”

Att laughed, disappearing back into the kitchen. “I’ll get a pen!”

Mae Koy chuckled, shaking her head. “Ignore him. He thrives on attention.”

They settled into the living room, Papa Oct insisting Ling take the comfiest spot on the couch. Orm sat beside her, close enough for their knees to brush occasionally—a small contact that Ling pretended not to notice but found oddly comforting.

Conversation flowed easily around her. Mae Koy and Papa Oct shared stories, Att chimed in with sarcastic commentary, and Orm occasionally threw in dry remarks that made Ling laugh despite herself.

But even with the warmth, the laughter, and the comfort of being surrounded by people who cared, Ling felt the undercurrent of her own thoughts tugging at her.

At one point, Orm leaned in slightly, her voice low so only Ling could hear. “You okay?”

Ling nodded, her smile soft but real this time. “Yeah.”

And for the first time in days, she almost believed it. And Orm saw everything, she could see her gaze constantly on her and she can bet that Orm didn’t believe she was okay.

The night settled gently around them, the house growing quieter as everyone retreated to their own spaces. After exchanging casual goodnights with Mae Koy, Papa Oct, and Att, Orm led Ling down the familiar hallway to her room—a space that had always been her refuge, but tonight felt charged with something different.

They both took turns in the bathroom, the sound of running water filling the silence between them. Orm showered quickly, her mind racing with thoughts she didn’t want to admit. She told herself it was nothing, just exhaustion, but the steady drumbeat of her heart said otherwise.

By the time Ling emerged from the bathroom, her damp hair falling softly around her face, Orm was already sitting cross-legged on her bed, scrolling aimlessly through her phone. She looked up casually, expecting nothing.

But the sight of Ling standing there—barefoot, her skin still dewy from the shower, wearing Orm’s oversized “Keep Silent” T-shirt that fell just past her thighs—was enough to make Orm’s breath catch.

Beautiful.

The word echoed in her mind, simple and undeniable.

Ling wasn’t trying. That was the worst part. She wasn’t posing, wasn’t performing. She was just there, effortlessly radiant in the dim glow of Orm’s bedside lamp. And for the first time, Orm felt the full weight of something she’d been avoiding for far too long.

She was in love with Ling.

Not the fleeting, crush-kind-of-love she’d dismissed before. This was different. It was the kind that sat quietly in the background, growing roots when she wasn’t paying attention, steady and undeniable.

Orm swallowed hard, forcing herself to look away, pretending to be engrossed in her phone. But her heart betrayed her, racing wildly against her ribcage.

Ling didn’t seem to notice. She moved around the room with ease, familiar with the space, tossing her bag onto the chair and stretching her arms overhead with a soft sigh.

“You good?” Ling asked, her voice light, breaking the tension Orm was desperately trying to ignore.

Orm nodded, her throat dry. “Yeah… hum… Just tired.”

But it wasn’t just that. It was the realization that she wanted more—wanted to reach out, to close the space between them, to tell Ling everything she’d kept buried.

But Orm had never been brave enough for that. Not for her feelings for Ling. 

So instead, she scooted over, patting the empty space beside her. “Come sit.”

Ling smiled softly and did just that, settling next to Orm, their shoulders barely touching.

____________________________________

The dim glow of Orm’s bedside lamp painted soft, golden hues across the room, casting faint shadows that danced along the walls. The quiet was comfortable but fragile, like a delicate thread stretched between them, one tug away from unraveling completely.

Orm shifted slightly, her heart still racing from the earlier realization she wasn’t ready to face out loud. Instead, she did what felt natural—what she always did when Ling was near.

She reached out, tugging Ling gently into her arms.

Ling didn’t resist. She never did. She settled into Orm’s embrace like it was the most natural thing in the world, her head resting against Orm’s shoulder, their legs tangled casually. Orm’s arms wrapped around her, holding her close, her fingers absentmindedly tracing slow, soothing circles along Ling’s back.

The warmth between them was familiar, but tonight, it felt different. Heavier.

“Ling,” Orm whispered after a moment, her voice low and careful, like she was afraid to break the fragile peace. “You don’t have to pretend with me.”

Ling didn’t respond right away. She stared at the faint crack in the ceiling, her heart thudding softly against Orm’s chest.

“I’m not pretending,” Ling said finally, her tone light, too light.

Orm sighed, her hold tightening slightly, her cheek resting against Ling’s hair. “You are. I can feel it.”

Ling closed her eyes, breathing in the faint scent of Orm’s shampoo—something fresh and warm, like citrus and cedar. It grounded her, but it also made her chest ache.

“I’m just… paranoid,” Ling murmured, her voice softer now. “Maybe I’m not over what happened a few months ago. That’s all.”

Orm didn’t push. She just held her tighter, her fingers threading gently through Ling’s hair.

“It’s okay to be scared, you know,” Orm whispered. “You don’t have to carry it alone.”

Ling swallowed hard, her throat tight with words she didn’t know how to say. Instead, she tilted her head slightly, her eyes meeting Orm’s in the dim light.

“But everything will be okay,” Ling said quietly, her voice filled with more hope than conviction. She forced a small smile. “I’ve got you, haven’t I?”

Orm’s heart skipped again, her chest tightening in a way that was both beautiful and painful.

“Yeah,” Orm whispered back. “You’ve got me. Always”

Eventually, the lamp was switched off, plunging the room into soft darkness. They settled under the sheets, Orm’s arms still wrapped protectively around Ling, their bodies fitting together like puzzle pieces.

But as Ling lay there, listening to the steady rhythm of Orm’s heartbeat, her own thoughts refused to quiet.

I’m in love with you.

The words echoed silently in her mind, sharp and undeniable.

But she didn’t say them.

She couldn’t.

Because no matter how tightly Orm held her, Ling was convinced it was just friendship. That Orm saw her as nothing more than her best friend—the person she clung to out of habit, out of comfort.

And that realization hurt more than the fear she was trying to bury.