Chapter 5: This Is Not Love. This Is Professional Horny Confusion
We were only supposed to shoot till 5.
But it rained.
Then the power went out at the last location.
Then the production van got stuck behind a parade.
By 10 PM, our producer Mr. Yoshino clapped and said, "Change of plans! Everyone stays at the production villa tonight. Yay, team bonding!"
No. Not yay.
Because "villa" meant shared rooms.
And shared rooms meant... shared beds.
---
"There's a double bed in Room 2," Mayu said, flipping through the clipboard. "You and Ren, right? You two don't mind sharing."
I opened my mouth. Words failed.
Ren? Silent.
"Great! Room 2 it is!"
No consultation. No warning.
Just violence.
---
We stepped into the room.
One bed.
One blanket.
Two pillows.
One awkward silence so loud it could start a podcast.
I dropped my bag on the floor. "Okay. Let's draw a pillow line."
Ren tilted his head. "What for?"
"For... boundaries. And body heat control. And mental health."
He shrugged. "Okay."
We set it up.
Pillow border, right down the middle.
Cold war energy.
---
Thirty minutes later, lights off.
I was wide awake. Lying stiff on my side. Counting ceiling shadows.
I could hear him breathing. Slow. Calm. Probably already asleep like some smug yoga instructor.
But then—
Rustle. Shift. A thump.
He'd turned.
I felt the mattress dip behind me.
And then...
His hand brushed my arm.
I flinched.
"Sorry," he whispered.
"It's fine," I whispered back.
But it wasn't fine.
It was terrifying.
Because now I couldn't stop *feeling* him.
His warmth. His space. The gravity of his body just centimeters away.
---
Then it got worse.
Because I talk in my sleep.
I woke up mid-mumble.
"...don't touch me like that… idiot..."
My eyes shot open.
Ren was quiet.
Too quiet.
"Did I… say something?"
He didn't answer.
Then I felt it—
His hand, slowly retreating from where it had been hovering near my waist.
Kill me.
---
I turned over. "Were you awake the whole time?"
He stared at me in the dark. "You talk a lot. Even when asleep."
"God."
"And apparently, I touched you wrong."
"Shut up."
He chuckled.
Low. Soft. Warm in the ribs kind of laugh.
And it did something to my entire hormonal system.
---
"Ren."
"Yeah?"
"This... this is not love."
"No kidding."
"This is professional horny confusion."
"Exactly."
We laid in silence.
Tension buzzing like a badly tuned radio.
Then he said:
"But you're not imagining it, right?"
I turned to look at him. Our faces inches apart in the dim moonlight.
"Imagining what?"
He didn't blink. "The tension."
I swallowed.
"No. I'm not imagining it."
"Okay."
And just like that, he closed his eyes.
As if that confession was casual. Normal. Chill.
Meanwhile, I laid there fully awake, fully aroused, fully ready to cry into the pillow line.
---
I didn't sleep.
But I learned one thing:
The most dangerous place on Earth isn't a war zone.
It's the left side of a shared bed with Ren Kurosawa.