The week after the press event was chaos.
The company's halls no longer felt quiet. Everywhere Lian went, people turned to look — some curious, some cold. Trainees whispered when he passed, managers stopped talking mid-sentence. Fame had a way of changing the air around a person, even when that person hadn't done anything except sing.
By the time he reached the practice room, his reflection in the mirror looked different too.
Not because he was different, but because everyone else thought he was.
---
"Again," Rian said from the corner, voice clipped.
They'd been rehearsing for hours — their first joint live performance had just been announced for the company's anniversary showcase. One song. One stage. Millions watching online.
Lian's heart still hadn't caught up.
He nodded, replayed the intro, and began singing.
But halfway through, he faltered — the lyrics tangled, breath uneven.
"Stop." Rian stood. "What's wrong with you today?"
"I—sorry, I'm trying," Lian said quickly.
"Trying isn't enough onstage," Rian said, a little too sharply. "You can't go out there half-ready. The crowd will eat you alive."
Lian bit his lip. "I know."
Rian sighed, rubbing his temples. "Again."
The music restarted. Lian sang. Then stumbled again.
"Lian."
He froze.
Rian's tone softened slightly. "You're not breathing right. You're thinking about the crowd, not the song."
Lian's voice wavered. "It's hard not to. I've never done something like this."
Rian's eyes met his through the mirror. "You don't need to be perfect. You just need to mean it."
---
They took a break, the tension thick between them.
Rian leaned against the wall, scrolling through messages on his phone. Lian sat on the floor, pretending not to glance over.
He could see the stress in Rian's face — the faint lines around his eyes, the tightness in his jaw. The internet had been relentless, questioning everything from their relationship to Rian's professionalism.
> "Did Rian Vale play favorites?"
"A trainee already performing onstage with him — privilege or talent?"
"#RianProtectsLian — trending worldwide."
Every hour, a new rumor. Every day, a new storm.
Finally, Rian spoke without looking up. "Don't read the comments anymore."
"I haven't," Lian lied.
Rian looked at him. "You have. I can tell."
Lian swallowed. "They're saying you helped me because—"
"Stop."
The word was quiet but sharp.
Rian pocketed his phone and sat down beside him, the distance between them suddenly small. "Let them talk. They'll move on when something new comes up."
"But it's your reputation too," Lian said. "I don't want to drag you down."
Rian's expression softened, eyes steady. "If I thought you were a mistake, I wouldn't be here."
Lian's breath hitched. "You mean that?"
Rian smiled faintly. "You're still here, aren't you?"
---
The following week moved like a blur.
Rehearsals turned intense. Lights, sound checks, camera blocking — every moment carefully calculated, except the one thing that couldn't be controlled: how they looked at each other when the music began.
Every time Lian sang that bridge, Rian's harmony slid in beneath his voice, perfectly aligned — two tones, two emotions, becoming one. The staff whispered about it. Even the choreographer, who had seen every idol duet in the industry, murmured, "They're dangerous together."
Lian tried not to think about what that meant.
---
Showcase Day.
The stadium lights burned white. Fans filled the seats like waves of color, thousands of lightsticks glowing in rhythm. The energy felt alive, thunderous, unreal.
Backstage, Lian's hands shook.
Rian adjusted his mic calmly, but Lian noticed the faint tremor in his fingers too.
"You nervous?" Rian asked.
Lian laughed weakly. "A little."
Rian met his gaze. "Good. It means you care."
The stage director signaled. "Vale and Lian, standby!"
Rian exhaled. "You ready?"
Lian nodded — though his pulse said otherwise.
"Then let's give them something they won't forget."
---
The lights dimmed.
A hush swept the crowd.
Then — the opening chords of The Sound of You.
Rian stepped forward first, his voice smooth and rich, commanding the air. The fans screamed. Then Lian entered, his tone lighter, trembling slightly — but as the melody built, his nerves melted away.
Their voices intertwined like they always did — Rian's deep resonance grounding Lian's soaring notes.
When the chorus hit, the spotlight caught them both.
And in that brief second, the world disappeared.
No fans. No company. No rumors. Just them — two people standing on the same stage, their voices carrying something neither could say aloud.
By the final bridge, Lian felt tears burn at the corner of his eyes. He met Rian's gaze across the lights — and Rian held it, steady, unflinching, the faintest smile ghosting his lips.
The song ended.
Silence.
Then — thunder. The crowd erupted, a sea of screams, cheers, lightsticks waving wildly.
For the first time, Lian didn't flinch from it.
He smiled.
---
Backstage, chaos returned — cameras flashing, managers yelling, staff congratulating them.
But Rian pulled Lian aside, into the quiet of an empty hallway.
For a long moment, neither spoke.
Then Rian said softly, "You were incredible out there."
Lian's voice trembled. "Because you were next to me."
Rian looked at him — really looked — like he wanted to say something more. But footsteps echoed down the hall, and the moment broke.
Their manager approached, expression tight. "Both of you. The higher-ups want a meeting. Now."
---
The office upstairs was cold.
The director sat behind a polished desk, hands clasped, smile polite but sharp.
"That was a wonderful performance," he began. "The response is overwhelming. You two are our most talked-about act right now."
Lian relaxed a little — until the man's tone shifted.
"Which is why we need to control the narrative."
Rian's eyes narrowed. "Meaning?"
"Rumors are spreading. The fans are speculating about your relationship."
Lian froze.
The director's gaze flicked toward him. "For both your careers, we need to distance you publicly. No more one-on-one appearances. No unnecessary contact off-camera."
Rian's jaw tightened. "You're serious?"
"Completely. This is for damage control."
Lian felt something cold settle in his chest. "But— we just performed together."
"That was before the scandal hashtags began trending," the director said briskly. "We'll manage it. You just focus on your next steps."
Rian's voice turned low. "And if I refuse?"
The director's smile didn't waver. "Then your contract takes the hit."
Silence filled the room.
Finally, Rian stood. "Understood."
He didn't look at Lian as he walked out.
---
The ride home was wordless.
Lian sat by the window of the van, city lights blurring outside. His phone buzzed nonstop — messages, praise, invitations — but none of it felt real.
He wanted to talk to Rian, to ask what would happen now.
But Rian sat across from him, earbuds in, eyes closed, as if a wall had dropped between them.
It shouldn't have hurt this much.
---
That night, Lian returned to his dorm and stared at the reflection in his mirror — the same one he used to practice in, back before any of this began.
He replayed the performance in his head. The song. The smiles. The silence that followed.
Then his phone lit up.
Rian: Meet me on the rooftop.
Lian's heart skipped. He grabbed a hoodie and ran.
---
The rooftop was quiet, the city humming below. Rian stood by the railing, the wind tugging at his hair.
"You shouldn't be out here," Lian said softly.
"Neither should you," Rian replied.
For a while, they just stood there, the night stretching wide around them.
Then Rian said quietly, "They want to separate us."
"I know."
Rian looked at him. "But I don't think I can do that."
Lian's breath caught. "You mean—"
"I don't know what this is," Rian admitted, voice rough. "But when I hear you sing, it feels like the first time music has meant something in years."
Lian's throat tightened. "Rian…"
He turned away, eyes on the skyline. "Maybe that's why they're scared. Because it's real."
Silence hung between them — fragile, heavy, electric.
Finally, Lian said, barely a whisper, "Then let's not let them take it."
Rian turned to him, a small, tired smile curving his lips. "You're braver than you think, you know that?"
Lian smiled back, heart racing. "You taught me how to be."
The city lights flickered below, the wind carrying the faint hum of their song — the one that had started it all.
And somewhere between the noise and the quiet, a promise was made.
Unspoken, but understood.
They wouldn't let the world silence them.
Not now.
Not ever.
---
End of Chapter 8 — The Stage Between Us
To be continued…