Dance with the Dragon [Mile x Apo] [MileApo]

Chapter 13: Never Letting You Go

"Thank you for your time, we'll call you!"

Apo would flash a contented smile, coated in politeness and patience as he clapped his hands, bowed his head, and turned on his heel to head out of the door to allow the next audition participant to enter.

Once outside of the room, his shoulders sagged considerably, and he let out a breath he hadn't realized he had been holding during the audition. His nerves getting the better of him – again.

For the 5th time in a row Apo was getting the 'don't call us, we'll call you' speech and it only filled the sands of the hourglass in his abdomen. Another grain in the batch. Another notch on his belt of failures, that felt like the size of choker, restrained against his neck of insecurities and doubts. When Rama said he'd pay for it, he clearly meant it. Every door of every project wasn't even held ajar for him to slip his foot into. Apo was amazed he even managed to get past the introductions half the time before he would notice the casting director's disinterest in his performance. Half asleep or in a dazed stupor, letting him play out the role he came to get, only to send him away with a pink slip.

He walked past a line of individuals, felt their eyes sting against his back like prickled needles of judgement, and that stung too. Some of them had been colleagues he'd worked with before. They knew of his work ethic and acting methods; however, since his fall out with Rama and his public 'disappearance' for nearly two months afterwards, it was difficult for him to get work.

They all saw him as a liability, even if his natural talent was always highly spoken of afterwards. He collapsed onto a bench outside of the studio, practically slammed the sunglasses onto his face to shield his eyes from the sun and not hide the prickle of tears that gathered.

"Another rejection..."

He had tossed the copy of the script into the bin on the way the bench. Freeing his hands to rub at his cheeks in an effort to mitigate the urge to cry in public. How humiliating would that be for him.

Apo Nattawin, emotional mess because he couldn't get a job on his own volition and feeling pathetically down on himself. He shook his head.

He closed his eyes as he inhaled a shaky breath and released it. This wasn't like him feeling so defeated. Apo knew that his acting was unparalleled, especially to the newer contenders in the market, but this wasn't entirely his doing. Rama still had a lot of connections in the industry, and had probably spread vile things about him, and it did the damage it was intended to. People were cruel and didn't tend to read the whole story, just whatever was convenient for them. He also knew that going on the impromptu trip with Mile left an opening for rumors to develop maliciously about him; all Apo could do was grin and bear it.

Damage control beyond repair, he sighed out loud, "What am I going to do..."

"I think you're putting too much pressure on yourself Khun Nattawin."

Apo opened his eyes, not realizing that a straggler tear was rolling down the side of his cheek without permission. He brushed it away harshly as he sniffled and sat straight on the bench. He had forgotten that Mile insisted he get driven around. They had an entire discussion about it after the first time Mile stayed over for the night.

It started in the kitchen when he cooked them breakfast, a semi-heated argument as Mile wanted to make sure that Apo arrived safely – to which Apo was offended his driving skills were being questioned. The word exchange turned into a hand exchange when both of them grabbed at the nearest available space of skin to grope, claw, and bruise. He'd ended up hoisted onto the counter with Mile settled between his legs, crescent-shaped marks from Mile's nails in his thighs to keep them spread as the man devoured him. His head tossed back, fingers deep in dark, silky locks of hair, left a stuttering mess. He had been unable to say no to the request. Only filled with the desire of release.