Within the spaces

Episode 18

When the director called "cut," the atmosphere shifted abruptly. The energy that had surged through the room during the scene seemed to dissipate, leaving behind a heavy silence. Faye remained still, her head sinking into the pillow as if her body refused to break character. Yoko, too, seemed immobilized, her arms still wrapped protectively around Faye. For a fleeting moment, neither of them could move, as if the emotional intensity of their performance had rooted them in place.

The air felt charged, thick with unspoken emotion. Both women were aware of the shift but couldn't articulate it.

Yoko was the first to move, quietly retreating to a corner. Her movements were subdued, her usual playful demeanor replaced by something more introspective. As the makeup artist dabbed at her smudged eyeliner, Yoko's gaze remained distant. She sipped water mechanically, her mind replaying the scene.

Faye, on the other hand, couldn't even think of sitting still. The moment the scene ended, a wave of emotions surged through her, threatening to overwhelm her entirely. She stepped outside, needing space, air - anything to ground herself. But the cool breeze outside did little to calm the storm within her. She leaned against the porch railing, her hands gripping it tightly as though it were the only thing keeping her upright.

Her thoughts raced, a chaotic tangle of emotions she couldn't fully unravel. The scene had taken more from her than she anticipated. Neung's heartbreak, her vulnerability, and the solace she found in Aneung had tapped into something raw and unresolved in Faye. It wasn't just the loss of her character's grandmother; it was her own buried pain - the regrets, the unanswered questions, the unspoken grief she kept tucked away. Performing the scene had forced her to confront those feelings, and she wasn't ready.

What made it worse was Yoko's presence. Faye couldn't explain it, but the way Yoko looked at her during the scene - the tenderness, the care - it felt too real. It made her chest ache in a way that wasn't entirely about the script. She wanted to believe it was just stellar acting on Yoko's part, but a small, insistent voice in her mind told her otherwise.

As she stood outside, the ache in her chest refused to fade. Faye felt exposed, vulnerable in a way she hadn't been in years. She needed solitude, a quiet place to untangle the mess in her head. But even as she craved space, she couldn't shake the feeling of Yoko's arms around her, the safety she'd felt in those fleeting moments.

Inside, Yoko watched Faye through the window, her expression unreadable. She didn't follow her, didn't even try to approach. For now, they both needed the distance, even as the silence between them grew heavier, brimming with things neither of them was ready to say.

When Faye eventually returned to the set, her gaze instinctively sought out Yoko. Their eyes met, but instead of the usual easy smiles, there was an undeniable tension between them. Yoko's expression was guarded, her jaw set tight, and her eyes held something Faye couldn't quite decipher. Concern? Frustration? It unsettled her.

Faye's chest tightened as unease crept in. Was Yoko upset with her? Had she done something wrong? The idea made her stomach churn, but she felt too drained - emotionally and physically - to confront it. Instead, she broke eye contact, her gaze dropping to the floor as she busied herself preparing for the next shot.

The shoot resumed with a retake of a minor scene that only required Faye. Still, the weight of Yoko's presence lingered on her. Though Yoko wasn't actively in the scene, Faye could sense her nearby, the tension between them thick enough to be almost tangible.

Faye stole glances in Yoko's direction, finding her seated in the corner, her posture rigid, arms crossed tightly over her chest. The space between them felt vast.

The desire to bridge that gap gnawed at Faye, but her own vulnerability held her back. She wanted to ask if Yoko was okay, to dissolve the wall that had appeared between them, yet fear and exhaustion kept her cautious. Her thoughts swirled with doubt - what if the question only deepened the rift? What if Yoko didn't want to talk? What if it is what she thinks it is?

Faye chose silence, for now. It wasn't the right moment, not when her own emotions were still so raw and tangled. She needed time to sort through the storm inside her before facing whatever was brewing in Yoko's mind. She was scared.

As the final shot wrapped, P'Wan clapped her hands together, offering words of validation to the cast and crew. "Well done, everyone. That's a wrap for season one!"

The set erupted in applause, the crew exchanging smiles and congratulations. But for Faye, the celebration felt muted. She hated the silence that had grown between her and Yoko, hated how unnatural it felt. It wasn't just her who noticed - the lingering tension was palpable, the crew casting curious glances at the two of them, unspoken questions hanging in the air.

Yoko moved quietly, packing her bag with stiff, mechanical motions. Her shoulders trembled slightly, her lips pressed together as if to hold back tears. Faye's gaze lingered, her own heart twisting at the sight. Yoko seemed so small, so vulnerable, and yet Faye felt paralyzed, unsure of what to say or do to bridge the gap between them.

Thankfully, P'Wan stepped in, sensing the tension. "Go home," she told Faye, her tone gentle but firm. "You look tired. I'll drop Yoko off. Get some rest and call me tomorrow."

Faye hesitated, wanting to protest, but the weariness in her bones won out. She nodded, murmuring a quiet "Thank you" before slipping away. She didn't look back as she left, though she could feel Yoko's eyes on her, a silent plea she didn't know how to answer.

The ride in P'Wan's car was steeped in silence, the kind that felt both heavy and oddly comforting. Yoko stared out the window, the glow of passing street lights illuminating her tear-streaked face. She blinked rapidly, trying to hold back the fresh wave of emotions threatening to spill over.

P'Wan let the silence stretch for a while, her hands steady on the wheel. But as they neared Yoko's home, she finally spoke. "This scene must have been hard for you both," she said, her tone thoughtful. "Faye too. She's...different, you know. She doesn't take anyone's feelings for granted."

Yoko swallowed hard, her chest tightening at the mention of Faye's name.

When they reached Yoko's home, P'Wan stepped out of the car and hugged her tightly. That simple gesture was enough to break the dam. Yoko clung to her, her tears spilling freely now, heavy and unrelenting.

P'Wan held her close, her hand rubbing soothing circles on Yoko's back. "It's okay, Yo," she murmured softly. "Let it out."

For a while, Yoko cried without restraint, her sobs echoing in the quiet night. When she finally pulled back, her breaths shaky but steadier, P'Wan looked at her with gentle concern. "Do you need me to stay?"

Yoko shook her head, offering a weak but genuine smile. "Thank you, Mami. I'll be okay."

P'Wan returned the smile, giving her shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "Call me if you need anything, alright?"

Yoko nodded, her voice too fragile to respond.

As P'Wan's car disappeared down the street, Yoko stood on the doorstep, staring into the night. The weight in her chest hadn't completely lifted, but it felt just a little less suffocating. For now, she allowed herself to simply breathe.

A/N: A late update again! I am just bad at editing. Also, fasten your seatbelts. Next chapter coming soon... :)