Unscripted Ties

Unspoken Bonds

Fourth sat on the sofa in his quiet apartment, eyes fixated on the TV screen where Gemini's latest solo drama played out. The camera caught every angle of Gemini's effortless charm, that magnetic smile that had once been aimed at him when the cameras weren't rolling. A smile that now seemed a world away.

Three years. That's how long it had been since that night. A single night that had changed everything.

He let out a slow breath, his gaze drifting to the empty baby bottle on the coffee table. His two-year-old son was finally asleep in the next room, curled up with his favorite stuffed animal. Fourth's eyes softened as he thought of his child, the proof of that drunken mistake. It wasn't the life he had imagined for himself, but it was his now, and he wouldn't trade it for anything.

The abrupt ringing of his phone broke the silence, and he grabbed it instinctively. The screen lit up with Gemini's name.

"Hey," Fourth answered, trying to sound casual, even though his heart always did that strange little flutter at the sound of Gemini's voice.

"Hey, I just finished the shoot. I'm on my way to your place," Gemini said, his tone as light and familiar as always. "You need anything before I get there?"

Fourth hesitated, swallowing the words that nearly spilled out—words about how he missed Gemini or how he wished they didn't have to keep tiptoeing around their reality. Instead, he said, "No, we're good. He's already asleep, so keep your voice down when you come in."

"Got it. I'll be quiet as a mouse," Gemini replied, a hint of a smile in his voice. "See you in a bit."

Fourth hung up, placing the phone back on the table. He rubbed the back of his neck, trying to ease the tension there. The act was becoming routine—this dance they did. Friends. Co-parents. Actors with a shared history that no one else was supposed to know about.

Gemini was there during the birth, when Fourth screamed and cursed him through the pain, when he sobbed uncontrollably from the mix of exhaustion and joy. Gemini was there during those sleepless nights and the postpartum darkness that swallowed him whole, anchoring him when Fourth couldn't find his footing. Always there, always steady, always as the father of their child—but never anything more.

It wasn't that they weren't close. God, they were closer than ever, in a way. But they'd set those boundaries so early on, deciding it was best to keep things platonic for the sake of their careers, for the sake of their son. And maybe it was Fourth's fault for agreeing too quickly, for pretending he didn't want more when Gemini suggested it.

There was a soft knock on the door, and Fourth's heart skipped a beat. He got up quietly and opened it to find Gemini standing there, looking tired but still with that signature grin plastered on his face.

"Hey," Gemini said, his voice barely above a whisper. "How's my favorite little guy?"

Fourth stepped aside, letting Gemini in. "Out like a light. He had a rough day with the new teeth coming in."

Gemini winced sympathetically, his gaze drifting toward the closed bedroom door where his son slept. "Poor guy. Wish I could be around more during the day."

"You're here when you can be," Fourth said, his tone softer now. "That's what matters."

For a moment, they stood there in the small living room, a world of unsaid words between them. Gemini's eyes locked onto Fourth's, and for a second, it felt like they were back to that night—when everything was a blur of alcohol, laughter, and a gravity that neither of them could fight. But then the moment passed, and Gemini's smile shifted into something more guarded, more professional.

"So," Gemini said, breaking the silence, "I got the new schedule for next month. There's going to be a lot of fan events, red carpets, and press stuff. I'll try to swing by whenever I can. But we need to be extra careful, especially around the media."

Fourth nodded, his expression tightening. "Yeah, I know. I've already planned for Mom to watch him whenever I'm out for public appearances."

Gemini looked relieved, but there was something else in his eyes too—something Fourth couldn't quite read. "You sure you're okay with that? With all the hiding and dodging questions? I know you hate the secrecy."

Fourth offered a small, bittersweet smile. "I'm used to it by now. Besides, I'd rather they think I took a break for some vague 'personal reasons' than know the truth."

Gemini's gaze softened, and he reached out, placing a hand on Fourth's shoulder. It was a simple touch, one they'd shared countless times, yet it sent a familiar shiver down Fourth's spine. "You're not alone in this, okay? We're in this together, always."

Always. The word felt heavier than it should have. Fourth wanted to believe it meant more than just co-parenting, more than just being friends for the sake of their son. But that was a fantasy he couldn't afford, not when their lives were under the microscope of the industry and the eyes of their fans.

He gave a small nod, leaning into Gemini's touch just a fraction more than he should. "I know," he said quietly, "I know."

They stood like that for a moment longer, a breath apart, tethered by unspoken words and the child they shared. Then, as if by unspoken agreement, they let the silence settle between them, the weight of it both a comfort and a reminder of everything that could never be said.