Unscripted Ties

The Truth He Didn't Want to See

Fourth sat in his car outside Gemini's apartment, the engine still idling as he stared out the windshield. He didn't feel shocked, nor did he feel the sting of sadness he might have expected. He felt something worse: disappointment—aimed entirely at himself. How foolish he'd been to think, even for a second, that he and Gemini were anything more than just friends, co-stars, and co-parents.

With a deep breath, Fourth leaned back in his seat, closing his eyes as a rush of memories from the past three months came flooding back. The time they'd spent filming their latest series together, the one that was now a massive hit—how different that experience had been from all their previous projects.

Returning to the set after three years away was daunting. He had been nervous, hesitant, uncertain if he could still fit into a world that had kept moving forward without him. But Gemini had been there, always by his side, making the transition almost seamless. It wasn't just the familiarity of their friendship that eased the tension; it was the small, fleeting moments when Gemini's gaze would linger on him just a bit too long, or when his smile seemed a little softer, a little more genuine than before.

Intimate scenes in particular had felt different this time. Fourth couldn't quite explain it, but every touch, every kiss they shared on screen carried something new—a sincerity, a longing, and a hint of desperation that seemed to go beyond the boundaries of their roles. It wasn't acting; at least, that's what Fourth had allowed himself to believe.

He remembered one day on set, after they'd finished filming a particularly emotional scene. Their characters had just shared a kiss, not a chaste peck but a kiss filled with raw emotion, like they were both starved for each other. When they pulled apart, the director had shouted, "Perfect! That's exactly what we need! The desperation, the longing—it's brilliant!"

Gemini's eyes had locked with his for just a heartbeat too long, a flicker of something unspoken passing between them, something that made Fourth's heart race in a way he couldn't control. He thought—no, he was certain—that Gemini had felt it too. That the line between their characters and themselves was beginning to blur, that maybe, just maybe, they were moving past the boundaries of their roles into something more.

After filming wrapped up each day, they'd fall into their routine. They'd share dinner while Leo babbled away, and when it was Fourth's turn to put Leo to bed, Gemini would sit on the couch, eyes following them with that same soft smile. They laughed together, talked about their future projects, made plans for Leo's next birthday. Fourth had thought they were getting closer, that Gemini's lingering touches and warm smiles meant something more.

But seeing Prim today, so comfortable in Gemini's apartment, shattered that illusion. Fourth's hands clenched the steering wheel tighter as the reality set in. He'd misread everything, let his own hopes and desires color every interaction between them. All those small gestures, the stolen glances, the lingering touches—they were Gemini being a good friend, a good co-parent, nothing more.

How could he have let himself believe otherwise?

He remembered the countless nights they spent together caring for Leo, how Gemini had been there for every milestone in their son's life. He remembered the way Gemini would always be there, no matter what, always with that same look of unwavering support. But that's all it was—support from a friend, from a co-parent. He had let his own heart run away with ideas that were never truly there.

Fourth let out a slow breath, shaking his head at himself. He should have known better. He should have seen that Gemini's kindness, his commitment, his loyalty to their family wasn't the beginning of something new but rather a continuation of what they already were—friends, co-workers, partners in raising their son.

Nothing more. Nothing less.

With a resigned sigh, Fourth cleared his head, letting go of the fantasies he'd built up over the past few months. Fantasies that maybe, just maybe, they could be more than this. He accepted the truth he didn't want to see. Gemini wasn't crossing any lines, wasn't dropping hints or making moves. They were friends, coworkers, co-parents. That was what they were and what they would always be.

Fourth took one last look at Gemini's apartment building through the car window, his expression set and his mind made up. He needed to focus on what was real, on what mattered most—Leo. The rest was just wishful thinking, and he was done chasing illusions.

With a clear head and a resigned heart, he put the car into gear and drove away, leaving behind any hopes that he and Gemini could ever be more than what they were.