Ling sat up, clears her throat like she's making a reasonable suggestion.
"We can watch a movie."
Rhea lets out a dry laugh and drops onto the bed, back against the headboard, legs stretched out, arms crossed.
"I don't watch movies."
Ling blinks. "Everyone watches movies."
"I don't," Rhea repeats flatly. "I get bored. People talk too much. Plot is predictable."
Ling hums, considering that for half a second—
Then she moves.
She sits on the bed behind Rhea, back to the headboard, long legs bracketing Rhea's sides. Before Rhea can react, Ling hooks an arm around her waist and pulls her back.
Rhea's back hits Ling's chest.
Firm. Warm. Unavoidable.
"Ling—" Rhea starts.
Ling settles in, spine relaxed, chin near Rhea's shoulder. Her arms rest around Rhea's waist, squeezing, like they've always belonged.
"You will," Ling says calmly, "see it with me."
Rhea stiffens. "I said I don't—"
Ling adjusts slightly, pulling Rhea closer so there's no space left to argue from.
"You don't have to like it," Ling continues, voice low, almost lazy. "You just have to sit."
Rhea scoffs. "You're impossible."
Ling reaches for the remote, turns on the screen. The light flickers across the room, washing over them both.
Rhea mutters, "If it's boring, I'm sleeping."
Ling's arms tighten just a fraction. "You won't."
Rhea tilts her head back slightly, annoyed. "And how do you know that?"
Ling leans in, lips close to Rhea's ear.
"Because you don't sleep when you're angry," Ling says. "And you're still furious."
Rhea goes still.
"…Don't analyze me."
Ling smirks. "Too late."
The movie starts. Some dramatic opening score.
Rhea watches for exactly thirty seconds before sighing. "This is already loud."
Ling chuckles quietly, the sound vibrating through her chest into Rhea's back. "You complain a lot for someone who pretends not to care."
Rhea snaps, "I care about silence."
Ling's thumb absently presses against Rhea's side—just a grounding pressure, not roaming, teasing.
"Then be quiet," Ling murmurs.
Rhea's mouth opens with a retort.
Nothing comes out.
She exhales sharply and shifts, trying to sit more upright.
Ling doesn't stop her—but when Rhea settles again, she's still fully enclosed, still pinned.
"This isn't fair," Rhea mutters.
Ling raises a brow. "You didn't say no touching."
Rhea grits her teeth. "I said no control."
Ling's voice drops. "I'm not controlling you."
"What do you call this?"
Ling thinks for a moment. "Stability."
Rhea laughs under her breath. "You're ridiculous."
"And you're watching," Ling replies.
Rhea glances at the screen despite herself.
A minute passes.
Then two.
Ling notices first.
She says nothing.
Rhea shifts again, this time not to escape—just to get comfortable. Her shoulders relax slightly. Her head tilts back until it rests lightly against Ling's collarbone.
Ling inhales slowly.
Doesn't move.
Just… stays.
Rhea notices the stillness and scoffs softly. "You're acting like if you breathe wrong I'll vanish."
Ling answers honestly, quiet. "Feels that way."
Rhea swallows.
She doesn't respond.
The movie plays on, forgotten and watched at the same time.
Ling's chin eventually rests on Rhea's head.
Rhea doesn't protest.
"This is boring." said Rhea.
Ling changed movie.
The movie title fades in.
The Fault in Our Stars
Rhea squints at the screen. "What kind of name is that?"
Ling tightens her arms a little. "Don't talk. Watch."
Rhea snorts. "Bossy."
On screen, Hazel appears with her oxygen tank.
Rhea straightens a bit. "Oh. She's sick."
Ling hums. "Mm."
Rhea watches for a while, unusually quiet. Then suddenly—
Rhea points at the screen. "That's me."
Ling closes her eyes for a second. "Rhea—"
"I'm serious," Rhea insists. "Look. Sarcastic. Sick. Tragic vibes." She turns her head slightly. "I'm definitely the girl who's gonna die."
Ling opens her eyes sharply. "Stop."
Rhea keeps going, dramatic as hell. "Oh nooo, Ling. I'll die and you'll be all alone. You'll cry every night thinking of me."
Ling pinches her side lightly. "Don't talk. See the movie."
Rhea laughs. "You've already seen it, haven't you?"
Ling doesn't answer immediately.
Rhea twists just enough to look up at her. "You have."
Ling exhales. "Yes."
Rhea grins. "So you know I die."
Ling's jaw tightens. "Rhea."
"I even gave you the boy character," Rhea continues, fully committed. "Tall. Hot. In love. Will live long and miss me forever."
Ling's arms stiffen around her.
On screen, Augustus appears.
Rhea watches him for a moment, then nods seriously. "Yep. That's you."
Ling says nothing.
The movie moves forward. Their playful banter fades as scenes deepen. The dialogue on screen grows heavier.
Rhea still doesn't know.
At one emotional moment, Rhea sniffles. "Why is he acting like that?"
Ling's voice is low. "Just watch."
Another scene. Augustus coughing.
Rhea frowns. "Wait… why is he in the hospital?"
Ling swallows.
Rhea shifts slightly, unease creeping in. "Ling?"
Ling doesn't answer.
The truth starts to settle in.
Rhea sits up straighter now, eyes glued to the screen. "No. No, no, no—"
Her voice drops. "He's not supposed to—"
Ling's arms tighten instinctively, like she's bracing for impact.
On screen, the diagnosis is revealed.
Rhea freezes.
"…He's dying?" she whispers.
Ling's chin rests on Rhea's head. "Yes."
Rhea's throat works. "But I said… I said I was the one—"
Ling interrupts softly but firmly. "You were wrong."
Rhea turns fully this time, twisting in Ling's arms to face her. Her eyes are wide, glassy.
"You let me say all that," Rhea accuses quietly. "You didn't correct me."
Ling meets her gaze, steady but hurting. "You needed to see it."
Rhea shakes her head. "That's not fair."
Ling's voice cracks just a little. "Neither is the movie."
They turn back to the screen, but Rhea is no longer relaxed. She's tense, fingers gripping Ling's forearm.
As Augustus weakens, Rhea's breathing changes.
When that scene comes—
Rhea breaks.
"Turn it off," she says suddenly.
Ling doesn't move. "Rhea—"
"I said turn it off."
Ling pauses the movie.
Silence floods the room.
Rhea stares at the frozen frame, then drops her head back against Ling's chest.
"…I hate this," she murmurs.
Ling's hand slides up to cradle Rhea's shoulder, thumb pressing gently. "I know."
Rhea's voice shakes. "Why would you show me this?"
Ling answers honestly. "Because you joke about dying like it's nothing."
Rhea stiffens.
Ling continues, voice low, controlled but raw. "And because when you say you'll disappear and leave me alone—" she exhales, "—this is what it feels like."
Rhea turns her face into Ling's chest, fists clutching her shirt.
"I didn't mean it," she says, muffled. "I was just talking."
Ling rests her cheek against Rhea's head. "I know."
Rhea whispers, almost childlike, "I don't want you to die."
Ling closes her eyes. "I won't."
"You don't know that."
Ling tightens her hold. "I don't care. I'm not accepting any version where you're not here."
Rhea pulls back just enough to look at her. Tears cling to her lashes. "I'd be alone."
Ling's voice is firm now. "We wouldn't survive it."
Rhea's breath hitches.
The weight of it settles between them—heavy, real, unavoidable.
Rhea presses her forehead into Ling's collarbone. "I'm sorry."
Ling kisses the top of her head, slow and deliberate. "Don't joke about leaving me again."
Rhea nods slightly. "Okay."
After a moment, she mutters weakly, "Still… I hate that the boy dies."
Ling lets out a quiet, broken laugh. "Me too."
Rhea wipes her eyes with her sleeve. "You're never allowed to die before me."
Ling arches a brow. "That's your takeaway?"
"Yes," Rhea says firmly. "I forbid it."
Ling smiles through the ache. "Then I guess we'll live."
Rhea exhales, finally relaxing back into Ling's arms.
"…Unpause," she says softly. "We'll finish it."
Ling presses play.
And this time, Rhea holds on tighter.