Chapter Text
Becky Armstrong missed her flight.
That kind of irresponsible behavior was not like her. ‘Becky’ Rebecca Patricia Armstrong was never late, and she certainly never let the plane she is supposed to have boarded leave the airport without her. But she wasn’t late.
Becky Armstrong missed her flight because she spent twenty minutes standing at the terminal gate, through all three calls for her flight, aching and hoping and so in love.
Twelve months ago, if someone had suggested that ‘Freen’ Sarocha Chankimha, her fiercest rival and most infuriating nemesis, would be the reason she'd miss a career-defining flight, Becky would have choked on her latte. Freen, with her icy glares and cutting remarks that always seemed to hit a little too close to home? The woman Becky had vowed to outshine at every turn? Ludicrous.
Yet, as Becky stood frozen in the bustling terminal, every nerve ending still thrummed with the memory of Freen's touch. The heat of their shared breaths mingling, the taste of forbidden fruit that lingered on her lips... It was a delicious secret they'd both devoured with equal parts passion and defiance.
Becky's heart ached with a longing she couldn't quite comprehend. For more stolen kisses in dimly lit corners, for more whispered secrets shared under the cloak of night. For more of Freen, the woman who ignited a fire in Becky that burned brighter than any spotlight. And the clock ticked away, reminding her of the flight that promised fame and fortune, a flight that she let slip through her fingers like sand.
Now, adrenaline surged through Becky's veins. Every cell in her body sang and she felt like a balloon, weightless and ready to float away on her sea of emotions. This love, so unexpected and all-consuming, had filled every corner of her being, leaving no room for doubt or regret. To leave without a word would shatter her heart, adding to the one she’d already broken a few days ago.
Flagging down a taxi was effortless in the airport. Becky, her face hidden behind a mask and shades, quickly stowed her carry-on and muttered Freen's address to the driver, urging him to hurry up.
As the city whizzed by her window, a series of blurred lights and shadows, the weight of her actions finally hit Becky. The desperation in Freen's embrace, the soft plea in her voice begging Becky to stay, echoed in her mind. The memory of Freen's misty eyes and trembling lips as Becky had wrenched herself away and fled into the cold morning air twisted a knife in her gut.
A wave of self-loathing washed over her. How could she have been so blind? So wrapped up in her own ambition that she'd failed to recognize the depth of her feelings? Had she been so consumed by their “rivalry” that she'd convinced herself their passionate encounters were nothing more than fleeting distractions? Had she truly believed they were just two actresses using each other to fill the void between film sets?
It was all a lie, a carefully constructed facade that crumbled under the weight of her own foolishness. The truth was as undeniable as the sunrise: she was irrevocably, undeniably in love with Freen and the realization hit her like a rogue wave, leaving her gasping for air.
Just then, a familiar billboard flashed by. It was an advertisement for their upcoming show, "Sunflowers and Lillies". It was a breathtaking shot, capturing the essence of their characters. The two of them stood on either side of the frame, bathed in the golden light of a setting sun that cast a magical glow over a vast hayfield. Their silhouettes were stark against the vibrant sky, their bodies turned towards each other, their faces adorned with subtle, knowing smiles.
She recalled the day they'd shot those promotional photos; the unspoken tension, the undeniable chemistry and an invisible thread drawing them closer with each stolen glance, each playful touch. The project that had thrown them together, the catalyst for everything that followed. And now, as the city rushed past her window, all Becky could do was look back, tracing the path that had led her to this very moment.
~ One Year Ago ~
"Director Aroon's working on his first GL project," Nam, Freen's longtime manager, mentioned casually as they cruised towards the studio. "And it’s creating quite the buzz in the industry, you know. He specifically requested you, Freen."
Freen nodded thoughtfully. "I'm aware. P’Aroon's reputation precedes him. But...a GL, P’Nam? I've never done that before."
Nam chuckled lightly. "Darling, it's acting. Tell a story, evoke emotions—no different from your previous roles."
"That's not quite it," Freen countered. "I understand the mechanics, of course. But a GL...it feels inherently more..." She paused, searching for the right word.
"Intimate?" Nam offered.
"Exactly," Freen affirmed. "More intimate, more vulnerable. Like every touch, every movement requires the utmost care. It's...daunting."
Nam smiled knowingly. "Precisely why you should do it. The connection you'll forge with the audience will be all the more sincere."
Intrigued, Freen considered the proposition. "It does sound appealing. But it all depends on my co-star as well. If P’Aroon specifically requested me, he must have someone in mind for the other lead. And you, my dear manager, didn't exactly share that little detail."
Nam raised an eyebrow. "Focus on the opportunity, Freen, not the casting. Does it matter who you share the screen with if the project itself doesn't entice you?"
Freen sighed, relenting. "Fine. I'll do it. But only if you tell me who my partner is."
"You have to promise me first, Freen," Nam insisted. "Promise you'll commit, and I'll have the producers draft a contract immediately."
Freen rolled her eyes playfully. "Oh, P’Nam, come on. It can't be that bad."
"Then brace yourself, darling," Nam retorted with wariness in her eyes.
"Okay, I'm ready."
"It's Becky Armstrong."
A deafening silence descended upon the car. Freen's face, usually full with subtle emotions, became a blank mask. A vein pulsed visibly at her temple, her knuckles whitening as her manicured nails dug into her palms.
Finally, she shook her head slowly, her voice barely above a whisper. "No. Absolutely not."
"Look, Freen," Nam began, her voice firm yet gentle. "I don't pretend to know whatever's going on between you and Becky, but it needs to stop."
"There's nothing-" Freen started to protest, but Nam cut her off.
"You were friends once."
"I thought we were," Freen retorted, a bitter edge creeping into her voice. "But Her Royal Highness apparently thought otherwise."
It had all started with a whisper, a rumor whispered in the back alleys, circulating in the shadows of the industry. Freen had overheard Becky's supposed judgmental remarks about her acting abilities, a casual comment twisted and blown out of proportion by the gossip mill. The words had struck a nerve, a painful betrayal from someone she'd considered a friend, a colleague navigating the same treacherous waters together.
"The media isn't blind, Freen," Nam reminded her. "The news of Aroon requesting you both will leak sooner or later. Declining this offer will only fuel their speculations and solidify the narrative of a feud."
"They can write whatever they want," Freen snapped. "I'm not doing the project. End of story."
The media, always hungry for a juicy story, had seized upon their unspoken feud, spinning a tale of rivalry with sensational headlines and pitting them against each other in a battle for supremacy. Every red-carpet encounter became a tense standoff, every award nomination a potential battlefield. Neither Freen nor Becky had dared to address the elephant in the room. Pride and a lingering hurt kept them from reaching out, from offering a simple olive branch of understanding. Instead, they retreated further into their own corners, allowing the resentment to fester.
"I didn't want it to come to this, Freen," Nam sighed, "but we're running out of options."
Freen raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "What are you talking about?"
"This photoshoot," Nam explained, gesturing towards the studio they were approaching, "it's the last guaranteed gig in your pipeline. After this, we've got nothing lined up for months."
"But I thought we were doing okay," Freen protested.
"We are, on the surface," Nam clarified. "But the truth is, you're still a rising talent, Freen. The public adores you, your fans are loyal. But we need to strike while the iron's hot, keep the momentum going. I don’t want to overwork you, but we can't afford to lose steam."
Freen nodded slowly, absorbing the information. "Is Becky in a similar situation?"
"From what I've gathered, yes," Nam confirmed. "You're both at the start of your careers and landing a role in Aroon's project could be a game-changer. It's too big an opportunity to throw away over a silly feud."
After a moment of contemplation, Freen let out a resigned sigh. "Alright, fine. I'll do it. But don't expect me to become her best friend overnight. I can be professional, I can do my job."
As the car pulled up to the studio, they stepped out into the crisp morning air, ready to face the day ahead.
"I'll inform the producers and have them draft a contract," Nam said. "We can schedule a meeting this week to go over the details, discuss the script, everything."
"Okay," Freen agreed, her mind already racing. "Anything else?"
"Just one more thing," Nam added. "I believe Aroon wants to conduct a chemistry test with you and Becky before finalizing anything."
-
Heng barged into Becky's trailer, his usual sunny mood replaced by a frown and a hint of frustration. Becky, sprawled out on a chaise lounge, barely glanced up from her script.
"What the hell is a 'chemistry test' anyway?" she grumbled, finally lowering the script and fixing Heng with a puzzled look.
Heng sighed, raking a hand through his perfectly styled hair. "It's a screen test with your co-star. They do it a lot in Hollywood."
"Oh, right," Becky muttered. "With Freen." The mere mention of the name sent a shiver down her spine.
Heng nodded. "Exactly. It's standard procedure to see how well the leads interact on camera, you know, to gauge their...chemistry."
"Chemistry?" Becky scoffed, rolling her eyes dramatically. "I doubt there's a single chemical reaction between us, unless you count the explosive kind."
Heng chuckled, amused by her theatrics. "Come on, Bec. It can't be that bad. You're both incredibly talented actresses. This is just to see if that translates on screen, to make sure the audience believes in your characters' love story."
Becky raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Love story? With Freen? The Ice Queen of the Thai entertainment industry? I'd have an easier time romancing a cactus."
Heng shrugged, unfazed by her pessimism. "Stranger things have happened, Bec. Sometimes the most unlikely pairings create the most electric on-screen chemistry. Who knows? You might surprise yourselves."
Becky remained unconvinced, a hint of dread creeping into her voice. "Or we might end up clawing each other's eyes out before we even finish the first scene."
Heng gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "Relax, Bec. It's just a few scenes. And remember, you're both professionals. Even if you can't stand each other in real life, you can fake it for the cameras."
Becky sighed, resigning herself to the inevitable. "Fine. I'll do the damn test. But if I end up with frostbite, you're buying me a glove."
Heng chuckled again. "Frostbite? In this sweltering Bangkok heat?"
"Talk to me after you've spent five minutes in a room with Freen," Becky retorted. "Then we'll talk about frostbite."
For the next few weeks, Becky threw herself into wrapping up her current project, mountains of scheduled activities that barely left her time to dwell on the impending chaos of working with Freen. Contract signings, production schedules, PR appearances - every meeting for “Sunflowers and Lillies” strategically planned to avoid any unnecessary interaction between the two leads until the dreaded chemistry test.
The day of the test arrived, heralded by a heavy downpour that mirrored Becky's internal mayhem.
"If this weather isn't a bad omen for the next six months, I don't know what is, Mami Heng," Becky grumbled as she peered out the window at the rain-soaked streets.
"Don't be so dramatic, Bec," Heng chided gently.
"Just remember, I warned you," Becky retorted with a wry smile. "I'll be civil, but you might want to keep an eye on the Ice Queen."
A knock on the door interrupted their banter. "They're ready for you at the studio, Becky," a voice called from the other side.
With a deep breath, Becky made her way through the corridors of the studio, her heart pounding in her chest. As she approached the room, she caught a glimpse of Freen entering from the opposite direction, her entourage trailing behind just like hers.
The studio door creaked open, revealing a dimly lit space. A lone spotlight illuminated a small stage at the far end, casting shadows that danced on the walls. A cluster of figures huddled around a monitor, their faces hidden in the darkness. Becky recognized the director, P'Aroon, a wiry man with a shock of untamed hair, and the producers, their expressions inscrutable.
Her eyes scanned the room, just as Freen joined her, adding another layer of unease to the already tense atmosphere. Becky took a steadying breath, forcing a confident smile onto her face as she approached the stage.
"Sawasdee-ka. Good afternoon," Becky greeted the room, her voice amplified in the silence. "I'm ready whenever you are."
"Sawasdee-ka," Freen's also greeted, her face illuminated by the glow of the monitor.
P'Aroon emerged from the darkness, his voice dripping with a sickly-sweet politeness. "Ah, Freen, Becky, there you are. We were just about to begin."
Becky nodded curtly, her gaze flickering towards the empty stage. "Shall we get started then?" she asked, her impatience barely concealed.
P'Aof, a renowned producer in the Thai entertainment industry, stepped forward. "We'll begin shortly. In the meantime, why don't you two take a seat and familiarize yourselves with the scene?"
Becky exchanged a tense glance with Freen before they moved towards two stools placed at the edge of the stage. She focused on the script clutched in her hands. The scene was a simple encounter between two strangers at a grocery store, but the unspoken tension between her and Freen threatened to turn it into a high-stakes drama.
"We'll begin with the grocery store scene," P'Aroon announced. "Freen, your character is already there with her fiancé when you bump into Becky's character, alright?"
Both actresses nodded in acknowledgment.
"Okay, whenever you're ready. Action!"
The scene unfolded surprisingly smoothly. Freen was a professional and delivered her lines with effortless charm, while Becky, despite her reservations, managed to match her intensity. The air crackled with an undeniable tension, but their professionalism shone through, masking any personal animosity. They fed off each other's energy, delivering a performance that even surprised themselves.
The director and producers seemed pleased as well. Becky and Freen had an uncanny ability to anticipate each other's moves, creating a dynamic that felt both authentic and captivating.
"Listen, ladies," P'Aroon called out during a brief water break, "I know we didn't discuss this beforehand, but the producers are eager to see some sparks fly. It is a romance, after all. I don't want to pressure you, but would you be willing to try a kissing scene next?"
Becky's internal alarm bells blared. Absolutely not. She hadn't agreed to this, and while she knew it was inevitable during filming, she wasn't prepared to face it now. Nope. Nope. Nope. A quick glance at Freen revealed a similar sentiment mirrored in her eyes.
"We'll have to schedule this whole thing again, if not," P'Aroon pleaded. "Here's the script. Take your time, we can wait."
"Can we talk about this for a minute?" Becky asked, turning to Freen. With a curt nod, they retreated to the back of the stage, away from prying eyes.
"Let's just get this over with," Freen said, her voice barely above a whisper.
"Okay. I agree," Becky replied, her tone equally clipped.
"I have to make the first move in this scene," Freen continued, her eyes fixed on a point in the distance.
"Just go for it," Becky said, her voice barely masking her apprehension. "I'll react naturally, like we did in the previous scenes."
"Alright then. Natural it is."
"Yep," Becky confirmed, a nervous energy bubbling beneath her calm facade. "Ready?"
"As I'll ever be," Freen replied, a hint of a smirk playing on her lips. "Try not to bite."
"Wouldn't dream of it," Becky countered, returning the smirk.
With a shared nod, they returned to the center of the stage. "We'll do it," Freen announced to the waiting crew.
"Thank you," P'Aroon exhaled, a wave of relief washing over him. "Whenever you're ready."
"Call the cue," Becky instructed, her voice steadier now.
"Action!"
Becky held her breath as Freen leaned in, their noses brushing against one another. Something in her eyes—maybe it was the low light making them a deeper brown, maybe it was the way there was a glint to them that seemed brand new and familiar at once—made Becky lean in a fraction closer.
Becky could smell soap on Freen's skin, could feel her breath hitting her cheek, the warmth from her body clinging to hers. All she could focus on was Freen’s lips that opened slightly as she stared at Becky's.
For a moment, Becky took Freen in. Her laughter lines, her cast down lids heavy with the makeup from the day, a simple, almost smudged mascara that was telling of how much of a handful her day had been. Her lips were full and plump and before Becky realized it, her heart ran away from her, galloping in an insane rhythm in her mind.
Then Freen looked up.
And caught her staring.
Becky didn't look away, only averted her eyes from Freen's lips back to her eyes, a quizzical look in them posing a question she couldn't bring herself to answer. And for a split second, honey brown eyes darted down to Becky's lips as well. And that single look set something on fire within Becky, burning her judgment and caution away, alighting a want, a need that felt bigger than herself.
They came together in a soft, tentative touch. It was merely their lips brushing against one another, tasting one another for the first time. But the small huff of air Freen let out was enough to make Becky feel shivers all over her body.
Bringing her hand up to trace Freen's jaw and pressing her palm tighter against it, Becky felt each shallow intake of breath, every erratic heartbeat, hammering against her ribcage. Freen reached out to take Becky's cheek in her palm and adjusted the angle of their kiss when her tongue peeked out, tracing plump lips, asking for permission that was granted without any fuss. They fell into each other, as if they had been doing this for years and years.
They kissed and they tasted the stars.