More than scripted

Chapter Five: After the Lights

The dressing room door clicked shut behind them with a finality that made Smart's skin prickle.

Silence.

The kind of silence that came after pretending for too long.

Smart stood in front of the mirror, slowly peeling the mic tape from his neck. He could feel Boom's presence behind him—still, watching, waiting.

"Was that real?" Boom's voice finally broke the quiet.

Smart didn't turn around. "What do you mean?"

Boom laughed once, bitterly. "Don't do that. Don't act like you don't know."

Smart finally met his eyes in the mirror. Boom looked tired. Not physically—emotionally. Like he'd been carrying something too heavy for too long.

"You said you were waiting," Smart said quietly.

"I was," Boom replied. "Still am."

Smart turned. "Then why joke about it in front of the fans?"

"Because that's the only place you let it happen!" Boom snapped, stepping closer. "On stage, on set, in front of cameras—that's where you're allowed to look at me like that. Where you're allowed to say those words and then walk away like none of it matters."

His voice cracked at the end, and it stopped Smart cold.

"I didn't think you felt the same," Smart said, his voice low.

"That's the problem," Boom said. "You never ask. You just assume it's easier not to know."

Smart leaned against the makeup table, gripping its edge like it could hold him steady. "It is easier. We work together. The whole country watches everything we do. What happens if this goes wrong?"

Boom stepped closer. "And what if it doesn't?"

That stopped Smart.

Boom's expression softened—not pleading, just honest. "I've been trying to respect whatever wall you keep up between us. But today... when you said all that, I thought, maybe... maybe it's not just me."

Smart looked down, then back up. "It's not."

A pause. Sharp. Breathless.

"I meant every word," Smart admitted. "On that stage, in that scene, every time I've looked at you and tried not to make it obvious—I meant it."

Boom swallowed. "Then why are you still standing over there?"

Smart didn't hesitate this time.

He crossed the room in three long steps and pulled Boom into a kiss—no cameras, no lights, no one watching.

Just them.

It wasn't perfect. It was clumsy, emotional, real.

When they broke apart, Boom rested his forehead against Smart's. "So what now?"

Smart smiled, a little unsteady. "Now... we stop acting."

Boom exhaled. Relief. Hope.

"Good," he whispered. "Because I'm tired of pretending."