→Let's not get divorced, okay?

Earth and Mix had always been close, closer than most co-stars, and their connection felt effortless from the moment they met. The industry was full of fleeting friendships and surface-level bonds, but what Earth and Mix shared was different. They spent long hours together on set, laughing between takes, teasing each other like siblings, and staying up late into the night discussing everything from their favorite childhood snacks to their dreams for the future. Over the years, their friendship deepened, blending into their lives so seamlessly that neither of them could pinpoint exactly when their connection had gone from mere work partners to something closer, something deeper.

But sometimes, when two people get that close—so close that their friendship feels almost like a part of who they are—the lines can blur. And when those lines blur, so do the filters. You start saying things you didn't mean to say. You stop worrying about how your words sound or how your actions are interpreted because, somewhere along the way, you start assuming that the other person just understands.

That's how it started with Earth and Mix.

It was a hot day on set. The kind of heat that seemed to press down on everyone, making tempers flare and patience wear thin. They had been filming a particularly emotional scene for hours, trying to get the right shot, but something just wasn't clicking. Every take felt wrong, and the director's frustration was palpable. Earth could feel the tension building in the air, thick and heavy like the humidity that clung to their skin.

Mix, too, was feeling the pressure. His face was flushed, not just from the heat but from the frustration of having to redo the scene again and again. It wasn't like him to struggle like this; as of late, he nailed his emotional scenes without much effort. But today, something felt off. The weight of the long day and the emotional exhaustion was starting to take its toll, and as they stood under the glaring lights, he could feel the walls he'd built around his emotions slowly starting to crumble.

They finished another take, the director calling "cut" in a tone that signaled he still wasn't happy with the result. Mix groaned softly, running a hand through his damp hair, his frustration bubbling to the surface. Earth, standing just a few feet away, glanced over at him, sensing the change in Mix's demeanor.

"You okay?" Earth asked, his voice soft but tinged with concern.

Mix didn't look at him. "I'm fine," he muttered, though the tightness in his voice betrayed his words.

Earth hesitated for a moment, then stepped closer, lowering his voice so that the crew couldn't hear. "Look, if something's wrong, we can talk about it. I can tell you're not—"

"I said I'm fine," Mix snapped, his voice sharper than he intended.

Earth blinked, taken aback. Mix had never spoken to him like that before. Sure, they'd had their disagreements, but they had always been lighthearted, playful. This was different. This was... cold.

"Mix," Earth said, his tone firm but still calm, "if there's something you need to get off your chest, just say it. You don't have to—"

"Not everything is about you, Earth," Mix interrupted, finally turning to face him. His eyes were hard, his expression tense. "I'm just having an off day, okay? Not everything needs to be fixed by you."

Earth recoiled slightly, the sting of Mix's words cutting deeper than he expected. He had always been the one to check in on Mix, to make sure he was okay, but now it felt like that was the problem. Like his care was too much, too suffocating.

"I'm not trying to fix anything," Earth said, his voice steady but hurt. "I'm just trying to help."

"Well, maybe I don't need your help," Mix shot back, his voice rising. "Maybe I just need you to back off for once."