Work Text:
Beijing was silent at three in the morning.
The city outside Jimmy’s hotel window glowed faintly through the curtains, distant traffic humming like white noise. He had fallen asleep only an hour earlier after reviewing notes for the next day’s fan meeting. Two days of smiling, signing, answering questions. He had prepared carefully. He always did.
The phone began vibrating against the bedside table.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
He ignored it at first, half-conscious, assuming it was a delayed notification from the company group chat.
It did not stop.
Jimmy reached out blindly and answered without checking the screen, voice thick with sleep.
“…Hello?”
“Jimmy. Listen to me carefully. Breathe. And do not open social media.”
He sat upright immediately.
His manager did not call at three in the morning unless something was on fire.
Sleep evaporated.
Every possible disaster flashed through his mind in rapid succession.
A leak.
Compromising photos.
Something involving Sea.
His stomach tightened.
“What happened?” he demanded, already swinging his legs off the bed.
There was a pause — the kind of pause that meant someone was choosing their words carefully.
“There’s a photo circulating,” his manager said. “You and a Chinese actress. It looks like you’re kissing.”
For a second, Jimmy genuinely did not understand the sentence.
It felt grammatically correct but logically impossible.
“That’s absurd,” he said flatly. “It’s not real.”
“I know that.”
“It’s not real,” Jimmy repeated, sharper now, because even the existence of such an image felt invasive.
“It appears to be AI-generated,” his manager continued. “But it’s spreading fast.”
Jimmy stood up, pacing the room barefoot. His heart was beating harder than it should have.
Not because of his reputation.
Because of Sea.
“Does Sea know?” he asked immediately.
“Jimmy—”
“Does he know?” His voice rose.
“He’s working. I’ll go to him personally. I won’t let him see it online first.”
Jimmy dragged a hand through his hair.
Even if it was fake, headlines did not care about truth. They cared about speed. One night of viral misinformation could undo years of careful work. Not just his work.
Their work.
“What did you do the night you arrived?” his manager asked. “We need your exact movements.”
Jimmy forced himself to breathe.
“I arrived in the morning. Lunch with Chen. Back to the hotel. Gym in the afternoon. I called Sea after. Shower. Dinner near the hotel with Mei. That’s it.”
“Which restaurant?”
He told him.
There was a small exhale of relief on the other end.
“They have security cameras. Good. That’s good. We can pull footage. We’ll issue a statement first thing in the morning and file a complaint for defamation and misuse of AI.”
Jimmy stopped pacing.
“Sea?” he asked again.
There was a sigh this time, long and tired.
“Jimmy, I know you. I know what you’re thinking. He’s fine. He’s filming. I’ll speak to him myself. You focus on tomorrow.”
Jimmy pressed his lips together.
His manager added, with a hint of exhausted amusement, “You’re more worried about him than the fact that your face is trending in China.”
“I don’t care about trending,” Jimmy snapped. “I care about whether he’s okay.”
“I know,” the manager said gently. “That’s the problem and the solution.”
The call ended.
The room felt smaller.
Jimmy did not open social media.
He sat on the edge of the bed, staring at his phone, willing it to light up with Sea’s name.
Minutes passed.
Then an hour.
Nothing.
He imagined Sea seeing the image mid-break. Imagined the confusion. The hurt. The doubt, even if only for a second.
Jimmy clenched his jaw.
He sent a message.
Call me as soon as you’re free.
No reply.
He lasted another twenty minutes before giving up and dialing Book.
No answer.
Force.
Nothing.
His irritation flared quickly, sharp and disproportionate.
“Pick up your phones,” he muttered to the empty room.
Finally, he called Junior.
The call connected on the second ring.
“P’Jimmy!” Junior’s voice came bright and unsuspecting. “Everything okay?”
“Are you with Sea?” Jimmy asked immediately.
There was a silence on the other end.
A small one.
Too small.
Jimmy felt something cold slide down his spine.
“Junior,” he said, sharper now.
Another pause.
“I thought they told you already,” Junior replied cautiously.
“Told me what?”
Jimmy’s heart began to pound again — harder than before.
“During filming last night,” Junior said slowly, “a new crew member gave him something with shrimp sauce. He had a severe allergic reaction.”
Jimmy’s world narrowed.
“He’s in the hospital.”
For a second, the scandal in Beijing ceased to exist.
The fake photo.
The headlines.
The trending topics.
None of it mattered.
“Which hospital?” Jimmy asked, voice completely different now. Lower. Controlled. Dangerous.
“He’s stable,” Junior added quickly. “They treated him fast. But it was bad, P’Jimmy. His throat—”
Jimmy closed his eyes.
“How long ago?”
“Last night. They kept him for observation.”
Jimmy felt something break open inside his chest.
“And no one thought to tell me?” he asked quietly.
The calm was worse than shouting.
“They didn’t want you to panic while you were abroad,” Junior said carefully.
Jimmy let out a short, humorless breath.
“Who thought I would panic?”
On the other end, Junior fell silent.
Jimmy looked at his reflection in the dark hotel window.
His face was pale.
The scandal could burn for all he cared.
“Send me the hospital name,” he said.
“P’Jimmy, you have fan meetings—”
“I don’t care.”
His voice did not rise.
It didn’t need to.
“I’m booking the first flight out.”
Sea surfaced slowly.
The first thing he noticed was dryness — his throat felt scraped raw, as if he had swallowed something sharp. His tongue felt heavy. There was a dull ache behind his eyes.
The second thing he noticed was a voice.
“No, you are not booking a flight,” he was saying, voice strained but restrained. “You have two thousand fans waiting tomorrow.”
Their manager was pacing near the window, phone pressed tight to his ear, exhaustion written across his face. His usually tidy hair was disheveled, shirt half untucked. He sounded like someone who had been awake far too long.
Sea blinked at the ceiling.
Hospital.
Memory crept back slowly — the filming set, the food tray, the faint taste of shrimp he hadn’t recognized in time. The sudden itch in his throat. The tightness. The way air had felt thinner with every breath.
He swallowed carefully.
It hurt.
“…water,” he croaked.
The manager turned instantly.
He froze when he saw Sea’s eyes open.
The relief that flooded his face was immediate and unfiltered — almost childlike. For a second he looked like he might cry.
“Sea,” he breathed, ending the pacing in two quick steps. “Hey. Don’t sit up too fast.”
Sea tried anyway and immediately regretted it, wincing as the IV tugged slightly at his hand.
“What’s happening?” he asked hoarsely.
The manager let out a strained laugh. “You almost scared everyone to death, that’s what happened.”
Sea frowned faintly. “It was just an allergy.”
“An allergy that closed your throat.”
Sea looked mildly offended. “It didn’t close it.”
“It was working on it.”
The manager shook his head, still holding the phone. Jimmy’s voice was faintly audible from the speaker — firm, controlled, unyielding.
“…I don’t care if it’s inconvenient. I’m coming back.”
Sea blinked.
“…Hia?”
The manager closed his eyes briefly, then opened them with resignation.
“He found out,” he said softly.
Sea stared at him.
“Found out what?”
“That you were hospitalized.”
Sea winced at the word.
“It sounds worse when you say it like that.”
The manager huffed weakly. “He’s trying to book the first flight out of Beijing.”
Sea’s eyebrows shot up.
“What? Why?”
The manager didn’t answer. He simply handed the phone to Sea.
“Convince your boyfriend not to destroy an entire two-day fan meeting because he’s panicking,” he muttered. “He’s not listening to me at all.”
Sea took the phone slowly, still trying to process the situation.
“…Hia?”
On the other side of the world, Jimmy stopped pacing.
“Sea.”
That was all he said at first.
But the way he said it made Sea’s chest tighten slightly.
“I’m fine,” Sea said immediately, voice still rough.
“I know,” Jimmy replied.
The calmness in his tone surprised him.
“You don’t sound like you know,” Sea said faintly.
Jimmy exhaled quietly. “You had an anaphylactic reaction.”
Sea made a small face. “It wasn’t dramatic.”
“It was,” Jimmy said simply.
Sea shifted against the pillow, embarrassed now that he imagined Jimmy’s face while hearing the word hospital.
“You have work,” Sea said softly. “Why are you fighting about flights?”
“I’m not fighting,” Jimmy replied.
There was a slight pause.
“…You are,” Sea insisted weakly.
Jimmy leaned against the window in his hotel room, forehead resting against cool glass.
“I was worried,” he admitted.
Sea blinked.
Something about the way he said it — not dramatic, not loud — made it heavier.
“I’m okay,” Sea repeated gently. “They gave me medicine. I can breathe. See?”
He exaggerated a small inhale as proof.
Jimmy let out a quiet breath that sounded almost like a laugh.
“Don’t perform for me.”
Sea smiled faintly.
“You’re overreacting.”
“I am reacting appropriately.”
“You’re in Beijing.”
“That is geographically irrelevant.”
Sea almost laughed again but stopped himself when his throat protested.
“Don’t come,” he said softly.
Jimmy’s silence stretched for a moment.
“I don’t want you canceling work for something that’s already under control,” Sea continued. “I feel stupid enough.”
“You’re not stupid.”
“I ate without checking.”
“That’s not stupidity. That’s someone else’s negligence.”
Sea’s expression softened slightly.
“I’m fine,” he insisted again, quieter this time. “Really.”
Jimmy closed his eyes.
He was juggling two fires and Sea didn’t even know one of them existed yet.
“You promise?” Jimmy asked.
Sea nodded, forgetting Jimmy couldn’t see it.
“I promise.”
The manager watched the exchange from the side, visibly relaxing.
“Okay,” Jimmy said finally. “I won’t take the first flight.”
Sea exhaled in relief.
“But if anything changes—”
“It won’t.”
“—I’m coming.”
Sea rolled his eyes faintly. “Workaholic.”
“Hypocrite.”
Sea smiled weakly.
“Try to sleep,” he murmured. “You sound worse than me.”
Jimmy almost said something else.
He almost told him about the photo.
About the trending headlines.
About the mess waiting when he woke up properly.
He didn’t.
Not now.
Not while Sea’s voice still sounded raw and fragile.
“Rest,” Jimmy said instead.
“You too.”
Neither of them would.
But for now, that was enough.
Sea found out by accident.
He had finally convinced the nurse to let him sit up properly, the IV removed but the monitor still clipped to his finger. The hospital room was quieter now. The adrenaline from the reaction had long faded, leaving him exhausted and mildly embarrassed at the fuss everyone had made.
His phone had been confiscated earlier — “rest,” the manager had insisted — but it now sat on the bedside table like a loaded weapon.
He told himself he would only check messages from family.
He unlocked it.
And the world exploded.
Jimmy’s name was everywhere.
Trending hashtags.
Screenshots.
A photo.
Sea stared at it for a long second before his brain caught up.
It looked real. That was the terrifying part. The lighting was convincing. The angle intimate. Jimmy leaning toward a Chinese actress as if mid-kiss.
Sea didn’t blink.
He didn’t feel jealousy.
He felt anger.
Cold and immediate.
He opened the comments.
That was a mistake.
The tone was vicious.
Disappointed fans. Dramatic accusations. Claims of betrayal. Threads dissecting every past interaction. And beneath it all, the filth of strangers who needed scandal more than truth.
Sea’s jaw tightened.
He had no doubt. Not for a second.
It wasn’t his Hia.
He knew Jimmy’s face when he kissed. He knew the shape of his shoulders. He knew the way his hand rested at a waist that was his.
The image was wrong.
But the internet didn’t care about wrong.
Sea’s heart began to race for an entirely different reason now.
How could Jimmy be worrying about him while this was happening?
He tapped Jimmy’s contact immediately.
Call failed.
He tried again.
No answer.
Of course. The fan meeting.
He imagined Jimmy standing under bright lights, smiling politely, answering questions while this garbage circulated.
Sea’s chest tightened painfully.
He swung his legs off the bed impulsively.
“I’m going home,” he muttered.
The nurse appeared almost instantly.
“You are not,” she said firmly.
“I’m fine.”
“You had anaphylaxis less than twenty-four hours ago. Rebound reactions happen.”
Sea wanted to curse.
He wanted to rip the monitor off his finger, book the first flight to Beijing, stand next to Jimmy in front of every camera and dare anyone to question him.
He wanted to fight the internet.
Instead, he sat back down, furious and helpless.
His fingers hovered over the keyboard.
He began typing.
This is fake. You all should be ashamed.
He deleted it.
Started again.
If you don’t know him, don’t speak about him.
Deleted.
He knew the company would explode if he posted anything reactive. He knew this had to be handled carefully.
He hated that.
Just as he was about to ignore caution entirely, his notifications shifted.
Official statement from the company.
He opened it immediately.
Clear.
Firm.
The image had been confirmed as AI-generated. Legal action would be pursued. They attached timestamps from the restaurant Jimmy had mentioned, security footage showing him entering and leaving with his assistant at the exact time the fabricated image claimed he was elsewhere.
Video evidence.
Calm professionalism.
Sea exhaled slowly.
The comments shifted tone almost instantly — apologies, embarrassment, anger redirected toward the person who created it.
He felt some of the tension leave his shoulders.
Jimmy would be fine.
Of course he would be fine.
Sea leaned back against the pillows, staring at the ceiling.
He was still angry.
But less afraid.
And beneath it all, something warmer lingered — the knowledge that while the internet had been tearing Jimmy apart, Jimmy had been trying to board a plane for him.
Sea smiled faintly.
“Idiot,” he murmured affectionately.
The exhaustion finally claimed him.
He fell asleep again with his phone resting loosely against his chest.
Jimmy had made it very clear that Sea was not to lift anything heavier than a glass of water.
Which meant Sea was currently exiled to the couch like a fragile antique while Jimmy moved around the apartment with irritating competence — unpacking his suitcase, sanitizing surfaces, reorganizing medication schedules, reading discharge instructions as if they were binding legal documents.
Sea watched him.
Watched the tension still sitting stubbornly in his shoulders. The way his jaw tightened whenever his phone vibrated. The way he kept glancing at Sea when he thought Sea wasn’t looking.
And the way he had still not mentioned the photo.
Sea knew about it.
He knew about the fake kiss, the trending chaos, the legal threats, the company statement with video evidence. He had read the comments. He had mentally fought strangers from a hospital bed.
And yet.
Jimmy had not said a word.
Not even casually.
Sea narrowed his eyes.
An idea formed.
It was petty.
It was theatrical.
It was irresistible.
He waited until Jimmy was close enough to hear clearly but far enough not to immediately read his expression.
Sea picked up his phone deliberately.
He scrolled.
He gasped.
Sharp. Controlled. Perfectly timed.
Jimmy froze mid-step.
“What?” he asked automatically.
Then—
A pillow hit him square in the chest.
Jimmy blinked.
Sea was staring at his phone as if it had personally betrayed him.
“…What,” Jimmy repeated slowly.
Sea didn’t answer.
He looked up at Jimmy as if seeing him for the first time.
And then his face changed.
The softness drained out of it completely.
“When,” Sea asked coldly, “were you planning to tell me you had someone else?”
Jimmy didn’t move.
The question didn’t register at first.
Then it did.
Sea held up the phone.
The photo.
Jimmy’s stomach dropped.
“You saw it,” he said quietly.
Sea let out a small, humorless laugh.
“Oh, I saw it.”
Jimmy stepped forward immediately.
“It’s fake.”
“Is it?” Sea shot back.
He grabbed another pillow and clutched it to his chest like a shield.
Jimmy’s throat went dry.
“Of course it is.”
Sea swallowed, forcing his voice to tremble just enough.
“How much fun did you have?” he asked quietly. “Making a fool of me?”
Jimmy’s expression fractured.
“I would never—”
Sea cut him off sharply.
“No one told me. Not you. Not the managers. Not anyone. I had to find out alone.”
That part was true.
And it landed.
Jimmy stopped moving.
For a moment, he didn’t look angry.
He looked hurt.
“I didn’t tell you because you were in a hospital bed,” he said, voice controlled but tight at the edges. “You had just had an anaphylactic reaction.”
“I didn’t want you worrying—”
“About you cheating on me?” Sea snapped.
Jimmy stiffened.
“I didn’t cheat on you.”
“How convenient,” Sea muttered, turning his face away dramatically.
He pulled the pillow up and covered his eyes.
Jimmy stared at him.
“Sea.”
Silence.
“Sea, look at me.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because if I look at you, I might start believing you,” Sea said, voice trembling perfectly.
Jimmy’s breath faltered.
“You don’t believe me?”
Sea tightened his grip on the pillow.
“I was in a hospital bed,” he said quietly. “And the entire internet knew before I did.”
That part hit harder than Jimmy expected.
“I was protecting you.”
“From what?” Sea shot back. “Reality?”
Jimmy stepped closer.
“It was AI. The company released footage. I was at dinner with Mei. There’s video evidence.”
Sea let out a shaky breath.
“Video can be edited.”
Jimmy stared at him.
“You think I would do that?”
Sea’s voice dropped to something almost broken.
“I don’t know what to think.”
Jimmy felt something twist painfully in his chest.
“I have never given you a reason to doubt me.”
“You didn’t give me a reason to trust you this time either,” Sea said.
Jimmy ran a hand through his hair, pacing once before turning back.
“I didn’t tell you because you had just almost suffocated.”
“Don’t exaggerate.”
“You had anaphylaxis.”
Sea pressed the pillow harder over his face.
“Stop being logical, it’s ruining my heartbreak.”
Jimmy froze.
“…What?”
Sea peeked out from behind the pillow for half a second, then quickly covered his eyes again to stop himself from laughing.
Jimmy saw it.
The almost-smile.
His eyes narrowed.
“You are acting.”
“No, I’m devastated.”
“You threw a pillow at me.”
“That’s called emotional expression.”
Jimmy stepped closer and tried to pull the pillow away.
Sea shrieked dramatically and rolled to the other side of the couch, clutching it tighter.
“Don’t touch me,” he said, voice thick with fake betrayal. “I need space to process your infidelity.”
Jimmy stopped.
He watched him for a long moment.
“You don’t believe it,” he said flatly.
Sea sniffed theatrically.
“I saw the photo, Hia. How could you?”
Jimmy exhaled slowly.
“You are enjoying this.”
Sea didn’t answer.
He just sniffed again.
Jimmy crossed his arms.
“Sea.”
Nothing.
Jimmy leaned down suddenly and tried to pry the pillow away again.
Sea shrieked and kicked lightly at his thigh.
“Personal boundaries!”
“You are impossible.”
“You’re unfaithful!”
“I am not.”
“Prove it.”
“I did.”
“Emotionally.”
Jimmy stared at him in disbelief.
Sea lasted three more seconds.
Then his shoulders began to shake.
Jimmy watched in silence.
The shaking turned into muffled laughter.
Sea finally pulled the pillow down, eyes watery — partly from fake tears, partly from real exhaustion.
“I’m sorry,” he said between breathless giggles. “I wanted to see your face.”
Jimmy did not laugh.
He leaned down, hands braced on either side of Sea.
“You made me think,” he said quietly, “that you doubted me.”
Sea’s laughter faded slightly.
“I never doubted you,” he said immediately.
Jimmy held his gaze.
“Not even for a second?”
“Not even if you gave me a signed confession.”
Jimmy studied him carefully.
Sea reached up and touched his sleeve gently.
“I was a little hurt you didn’t tell me,” he admitted. “So I decided to be dramatic.”
Jimmy sighed deeply.
“You are insufferable.”
“But adorable.”
Jimmy shook his head.
Then he pulled the pillow out of Sea’s hands in one swift motion and tossed it aside.
Sea yelped as Jimmy leaned over him fully this time.
“You are banned from acting for at least forty-eight hours,” Jimmy declared.
Sea grinned up at him.
“No.”
Jimmy finally smiled.
And even though he looked like he wanted to scold him for another ten minutes, his hands were already gentle as they settled at Sea’s waist.
The apartment felt quieter after the storm of dramatics.
Jimmy was still leaning over Sea, one hand planted on the couch beside his shoulder, the other resting firmly at his waist — as if Sea might attempt another theatrical betrayal at any moment.
Sea looked up at him and, for the first time since throwing the pillow, really looked.
There it was.
Not anger.
Not even annoyance.
Just something tender and bruised.
Sea’s smile faded a little.
He had meant to tease. To make a point. To force Jimmy to say the thing he hadn’t said.
He hadn’t meant to make him look like that.
Sea reached up slowly, touching Jimmy’s wrist where it rested near his waist.
“Hia,” he said softer this time.
Jimmy’s expression shifted immediately at the change in tone.
“I’m sorry,” Sea continued, more sincerely now. “I pushed it too far.”
Jimmy exhaled, tension easing out of his shoulders in increments.
“You did,” he said calmly.
Sea winced faintly. “I know.”
There was a small pause.
Then Sea added, almost sheepishly, “I didn’t doubt you. Not even for a second. I just… didn’t like that I wasn’t in the loop.”
“I never doubted you. Not even in my most Oscar-worthy performance.” He repeated more loudly.
Jimmy searched his face for any lingering uncertainty.
There was none.
Only mischief.
Jimmy’s gaze softened.
“I know.”
Sea tilted his head. “You looked so serious just now.”
“I was serious.”
Sea’s lips curved faintly.
“Good,” he murmured. “Because I was about to post something very dramatic in your defense from my hospital bed.”
Jimmy blinked.
“What.”
Sea grinned, clearly pleased with himself now.
“I typed at least three statements. Very aggressive. Very unprofessional. The company would have fainted.”
Jimmy stared at him.
“You were going to escalate it?”
“I was going to fight the internet.”
“With an IV in your arm.”
“Yes.”
Jimmy let out a short, disbelieving laugh.
Sea shrugged lightly. “Someone had to.”
Jimmy shook his head slowly, then leaned down and pressed his forehead gently against Sea’s.
“You are unbelievable.”
Sea smiled against him.
“You were about to cancel an entire fan meeting and fly home.”
“I would have.”
“I know.”
There was no teasing in that reply.
Just quiet certainty.
Jimmy’s arms tightened around him then, pulling Sea fully upright and into his chest. Sea melted into the embrace easily, resting his cheek against Jimmy’s collarbone.
The relief in Jimmy’s body was palpable now — like something tightly coiled had finally loosened.
“You scared me,” Jimmy admitted quietly.
“With the pillow?”
“With everything.”
Sea’s hand slid around Jimmy’s back, squeezing gently.
“You don’t have to worry about me so much,” he murmured.
Jimmy huffed softly. “That’s not how this works.”
Sea pulled back just enough to look at him.
“Next time,” he said more quietly, less teasing now, “try worrying about yourself first.”
Jimmy’s fingers paused against his back.
Sea continued, softer but steady. “You had a scandal exploding across two countries. Legal teams involved. Headlines. You had work. Important work. And you were ready to throw everything away because I had shrimp.”
Jimmy looked at him.
Not amused.
Not persuaded.
Disapproving.
“That is not comparable,” he said calmly.
“It is,” Sea insisted gently. “You had to handle something that could affect your career. Your reputation. Our work. That matters.”
Jimmy’s expression didn’t change.
“Your throat closing matters more.”
Sea blinked.
Jimmy held his gaze, unwavering.
“No headline,” he continued evenly, “no fake image, no scandal, no legal issue will ever rank above your health.”
Sea opened his mouth to argue.
Jimmy didn’t let him.
“I can rebuild a reputation,” he said. “I can reschedule events. I can sue people. I cannot replace you.”
The room went quiet.
Sea felt that settle somewhere deep.
Jimmy softened slightly then, thumb brushing gently along Sea’s jaw.
“You don’t get to tell me what I should prioritize,” he added. “That’s my decision.”
Sea’s lips curved faintly.
“You’re very stubborn.”
“Yes.”
Sea studied him for a second longer, then leaned in and kissed him lightly — not playful this time, just warm.
“Okay,” he murmured. “But at least pretend to worry about yourself occasionally. For my peace of mind.”
Jimmy huffed softly.
“I was worried about you. That covers both of us.”
Sea laughed quietly.
“That’s not how math works.”
“It is in my head.”
Sea shook his head, amused.
“You’re impossible.”
“And you’re dramatic.”
“Excuse me,” Sea protested, feigning offense. “You were the one trying to book a flight like a disaster movie protagonist.”
Jimmy’s mouth twitched despite himself.
“And you were about to post a war declaration from a hospital bed.”
Sea grinned.
“See? We balance each other.”
Jimmy pulled him closer again, pressing a slow kiss to his temple.
“There is no version of events,” he said quietly, “where I am more worried about a scandal than about you.”
Sea rested his forehead against Jimmy’s chest, listening to his heartbeat again.
“Good,” he murmured.
Then, after a beat, lighter again:
“But if the internet says you kiss dramatically…”
Jimmy groaned softly.
Sea laughed.
Sea opened the fake image once more and held it between them.
“Look at this,” he said with exaggerated seriousness. “First of all, the angle is wrong.”
Jimmy glanced at the screen briefly, unimpressed.
“I don’t lean like that.”
“Exactly!” Sea exclaimed. “You tilt your head slightly more. And your hand placement? Completely inaccurate.”
Jimmy’s lips twitched.
“And,” Sea continued, zooming in dramatically, “you don’t kiss like that.”
Jimmy narrowed his eyes. “Oh?”
“No. You close your eyes more. And your shoulders drop. This Jimmy looks stiff. Uncomfortable. You're not uncomfortable when you kiss me.”
Jimmy laughed under his breath despite himself.
“And how do I kiss, then?” he asked.
Sea set the phone aside and leaned closer, brushing his lips lightly against Jimmy’s.
“Like that,” he murmured.
Jimmy didn’t hesitate.
He kissed him again properly this time — slower, softer, deliberate.
Sea smiled into it.
“See?” he said when they parted. “AI got it wrong.”
Jimmy shook his head, still smiling faintly, and pulled him into another embrace.
This time there was no tension beneath it.
No withheld information.
No scandal humming in the background.
Just warmth.
Jimmy pressed a kiss into Sea’s hair, then his temple, then the corner of his mouth.
Sea laughed quietly. “You’re overcompensating.”
“I am reinforcing accuracy.”
Sea grinned.
Jimmy kept holding him anyway, kissing him intermittently like he was proving a point to an invisible audience.
And for the first time in days — no hospitals, no fake headlines, no panic calls in the middle of the night — the world felt small and manageable again.
Sea tucked himself closer.
“Hia?”
“Yes.”
“If you ever cheat on me for real…”
Jimmy stiffened.
Sea continued smoothly, “At least make sure the AI gets the angle right.”
Jimmy groaned and buried his face in Sea’s shoulder.
“You are impossible.”
“But yours.”
Jimmy didn’t argue with that.
He just held him tighter.
And this time, there was nothing left to prove.