Cumhuriyet Bayramı

It was the night between the 28th and 29th of October, the eve of the Republic Day celebrations, and although the significance hadn't been acknowledged aloud, there was an undeniable sense of anticipation woven into the air. For Bert and Roj, this scene carried a weight far beyond the scripted lines, an unspoken charge that neither dared to fully admit.

For weeks, their characters' destinies had slowly intertwined, mirroring a connection that felt strikingly real between the two actors themselves. Fleeting glances, quiet moments shared in the background of bustling sets, it had all built to this scene, their characters' first kiss. Now, with the director's eyes, the crew's attention, and the vast expanse of the city beneath them, they stood on the precipice, ready to bring the moment to life.

As the director called, "And... action," the terrace fell utterly silent. In character as Alaz, Bert's expression was laced with a profound inner turmoil, his eyes searching Roj's face as if she alone could offer him peace. Roj, embodying Asi, rose slowly to her feet, mirroring his intensity, her gaze unyielding as she looked up at him.

Bert took a breath, steadying himself, and closed the distance between them. His hand reached up, fingers brushing against her cheek, his thumb tracing a slow, deliberate line over her skin, lingering just beneath her cheekbone. His gaze flickered down to her lips, his own breath catching, and then, as though pulled by a force beyond reason, he leaned in, his mouth meeting hers in a kiss that was anything but gentle.

Their lips met with an urgency that belied the restraint they had both tried to hold, a kiss fierce and full, as if years of unspoken longing had finally, inexorably, broken free. His hand cradled her face, his thumb still caressing her cheek, deepening the connection as he poured himself into that kiss, oblivious to the world around them.

And then, as though the universe itself had chosen to bear witness, the night sky erupted with fireworks. Brilliant bursts of red, gold, and silver exploded in a dazzling display behind them, casting shifting patterns of light over the terrace and illuminating their entwined figures. The sound startled them both; they broke away slightly, eyes wide, breaths mingling as they gazed at each other, caught off guard by the serendipitous spectacle.

For a fleeting moment, they were simply Bert and Roj, not Alaz and Asi, two people swept up in the magic of an unscripted moment, the fireworks reflecting the tumult of emotions raging within them. A flicker of embarrassment coloured their expressions as the crew erupted in murmurs of awe at the scene's accidental perfection.

The director's voice broke through the reverie with a soft but decisive "Cut," yet neither Roj nor Bert moved. The depth of what they'd just shared hung between them, almost tangible, as the fireworks continued to illuminate the night. It was as though fate itself had crafted this moment with a script far deeper than any they could memorise, leaving them both acutely aware that something indefinable had passed between them, something as brilliant and undeniable as the lights blazing in the sky above.

After a brief exchange with the director, the crew began to set up for the next scene, oblivious to the quiet energy that still lingered between the two actors. Roj took her position, and Bert mirrored her, both settling back into their roles with a new awareness, the boundaries of acting and reality now blurred.

In this next scene, Asi was to confront Alaz, her emotions raw and unfiltered, a surge of pent-up anger and frustration rising to the surface. As they stepped into character, Roj's gaze became steely, charged with an intensity that felt startlingly real. Bert, embodying Alaz, watched her, his own heart pounding as he registered the fierce resolve in her eyes, a defiance that seemed to transcend their roles.

Without warning, Roj stepped forward, her expression fierce, her jaw set, and in one fluid motion, she drove her forehead into his. The headbutt, swift and precise, caught Bert off guard, the impact sending a jolt through him. His hand instinctively rose to his forehead as he looked at her, momentarily stunned.

Roj, still locked in Asi's defiance, didn't break character, her eyes blazing with a mixture of defiance, anger, and something deeper that he couldn't quite place. For a heartbeat, they stood there, the tension between them more palpable than ever, each grappling with a flood of emotion that seemed to spill over from the scene into something unspoken yet profoundly felt.

As the director called "Cut," the rooftop returned to its usual bustle, but Roj and Bert stayed still, their eyes meeting, both feeling the weight of what had just passed between them. Then, almost as if to break the spell, Bert gave a small, crooked smile.

"Well," he murmured, voice laced with a hint of mischief, "if that didn't just make a spectacle of us both..."

Roj let out a soft laugh, glancing away for a moment before looking back at him. "Think we'll get complaints about too much 'realism' in the workplace?" she teased, an eyebrow arching playfully.

He chuckled, the tension easing just slightly. "Oh, I think we may have set a new standard," he replied, his eyes warm.

They exchanged a final, knowing look, their shared humour a brief escape from the depth they'd just touched. But beneath the laughter, they both knew that something had shifted, something they couldn't laugh away entirely.