Chapter 6: Rival Fans

"They saw everything," Julian repeated, his voice barely a whisper as he stared at the pixelated image of them on the verge of that kiss. "We’re done. This is the end. Halloway is going to hang us from the rafters."

Leo didn't panic. He just swiped the phone screen away and leaned back against the leather seat, his jaw set in a hard, dangerous line. "Relax, Jules. It’s not a kiss. It’s ‘stolen intimacy.’ The public loves a forbidden moment. If anything, this just made us more expensive."

"Expensive? Leo, people are calling us frauds! Look at the comments section. 'Toxic,' 'Calculated,' 'Fake as a three-dollar bill.' We’re trending for all the wrong reasons."

"Let them talk. Attention is currency. You want to stay relevant? You ride the wave."

"I want to stay employed, not be the laughingstock of Hollywood."

The SUV lurched as it hit a pothole, throwing them briefly together. Julian braced his hands against the center console, keeping a rigid distance. "We have that joint interview with The Spotlight in two hours. Miller wants us to do a 'candid' deep dive into our dynamic. How do we explain that photo? 'Oh, we were just testing the acoustics of the cabin wall with our faces'?"

"We say it was an argument," Leo said, his eyes scanning the city skyline as they neared the studio. "A passionate misunderstanding. People eat that stuff up. They love the 'tortured artist' routine."

"You make lying sound like a breathing exercise."

"It’s an asset, Julian. You should try it sometime. Your honesty is going to be your downfall."

They arrived at the studio with enough time for a frantic, high-pressure hair and makeup session. Julian sat in the chair, staring at his reflection, feeling the weight of the cameras outside.

"Stop frowning," the stylist sighed. "You look like you're heading to a court martial."

"I am," Julian muttered.

"Deep breaths," Leo said, walking by and resting a hand on Julian’s shoulder. His touch was firm, a reminder of the contract. "Remember, you're the smitten, misunderstood soul, and I’m the protective, slightly intense partner. Don't break character."

"I’m going to break your nose if you don't take your hand off me."

"See? That's the spark! Keep that energy for the camera."

The interview set was designed to look like a chic, intimate living room. The host, a sharp-tongued woman named Sarah, was already waiting with a predatory gleam in her eyes. As soon as the cameras started rolling, her tone shifted from professional to saccharine.

"Julian, Leo—welcome. I have to say, the internet is absolutely burning up after those photos from the cabin. Tell us, was it the isolation, or is there something more to this 'reconciliation'?"

Julian opened his mouth, but Leo slid in first, his tone perfectly calibrated—smooth, earnest, and entirely fake. "You know, Sarah, the isolation forces you to confront things. Julian and I have a lot of history. Sometimes, in the quiet, you realize that the things you thought were anger were actually just… misplaced energy."

Julian had to force himself not to roll his eyes. "Misplaced energy. Right. I suppose that’s one way to put it."

"And the photo?" Sarah pressed, leaning forward. "That didn't look like a conversation."

"It was intense," Leo continued, his hand finding Julian’s on the armchair, his thumb rubbing the pulse point of his wrist. "We were debating a script. Julian is passionate. I’m… stubborn."

"Is that all it is? A debate?"

Before Julian could answer, the studio doors swung open. Marcus Sterling, their long-time rival and a man who lived for chaos, strolled onto the set with a smug, condescending grin.

"Oh, am I interrupting a performance?" Marcus chuckled, taking a seat on the guest couch without being invited. "I thought this was an interview, not an audition for a daytime soap."

"Marcus," Sarah said, visibly flustered. "We didn't know you were dropping by."

"I had to see it for myself," Marcus said, eyes locked on Julian. "The great Julian Vane, slumming it with a C-list action star just to keep his contract afloat. It’s almost sad, isn't it? The lengths some people go to for a paycheck."

Julian’s blood turned to ice, but his voice remained steady, dripping with artificial sweetness. "Coming from the man who hasn't had a lead role in three years, Marcus, that's rich."

"At least I'm not playing 'gay for pay' to save my publicist's reputation," Marcus sneered, his tone dropping into something uglier. "Tell us, Leo, how does it feel to be the hired help?"

The room went dead silent. The cameras zoomed in, capturing the absolute shock on Sarah’s face.

Julian felt his heart stop for a second, then a white-hot rage took over. He looked at Leo, waiting for the explosion, but Leo was calm. Too calm.

"Hired help?" Leo laughed, a cold, sharp sound that didn't reach his eyes. He stood up, pulling Julian with him. "Marcus, you’re so obsessed with the business side of things that you’ve forgotten how to actually watch a scene. If you think this is a performance, maybe that’s why your last three films went straight to streaming."

"You—" Marcus sputtered.

"And," Leo stepped closer, his voice dropping to a menacing, intimate whisper that echoed in the quiet studio, "if you really want to know what it feels like to be this close to Julian, maybe you should try earning his respect first. Though, given your track record, I wouldn't hold your breath."

Julian stood up, seamlessly falling into rhythm with Leo. He reached out, his hand resting on Leo’s chest, acting the part of the protective, annoyed partner to perfection. "He’s right, Marcus. You’re boring. And your clothes are ten years out of style. Are we done here, Sarah?"

"I… I think we are," Sarah stammered, staring at the screen.

As they walked off set, the adrenaline finally began to ebb, leaving Julian feeling lightheaded. He looked at Leo, expecting the usual smirk.

"That was… surprisingly competent," Julian admitted, wiping sweat from his forehead.

"Don't sound so shocked. We're a team, Jules."

"For now," Julian reminded him, heading toward the exit.

He pushed the studio doors open, ready to get to the car and collapse, but stopped dead. A massive crowd of fans and paparazzi had swarmed the entrance, and in the center of it, Halloway stood, her face a mask of unreadable, terrifying fury.

"You two idiots," she hissed, grabbing both of them by the arm and dragging them toward the back exit. "You just went off-script in front of a live audience. Do you have any idea what you just did to your marketability?"

"We shut him down," Leo defended.

"You gave the tabloids a 'rivalry' arc, which is the only thing the public loves more than a 'romance' arc," Halloway growled, shoving them into the car. She climbed in after them, her eyes darting between their faces. "And because of it, the studio just sent over the revised contract."

Julian felt his stomach sink. "Revised?"

"They’re demanding a public 'engagement' announcement by the weekend," Halloway said, tossing a new set of papers into Julian’s lap. "Or the whole deal is off. Permanently."