Was Once the King: Chapter 8: Only For You
It began with a scene that felt too real.
The courtyard had been dressed with weather-worn stone
tiles and distant lanterns meant to glow like memory. The script said this was
the moment Oran defended Cale—when the loyalty that had once nearly cost him
his life was laid bare.
Hector adjusted his collar as the mic tech clipped the
pack to the small of his back.
Benjamin was already standing on his mark, crown crooked,
expression composed. The scene was simple. But the director had made it clear:
this wasn't just dialogue.
"This is where Cale says everything Oran needs to
hear—but doesn't believe he deserves."
Hector nodded, as he always did.
But inside, the words itched like old wounds.
"Scene twenty-two, take two!"
"Action!"
The cameras rolled.
Hector stepped forward, Oran's guilt weighing in his
spine. He didn't have to reach far to find it. Didn't have to imagine the
shame. The solitude. It was already there, etched into the back of his mind
like a scar he stopped trying to hide.
Benjamin turned to him, voice steady. Not cold. Not
theatrical. Just... true.
"You think I stood by you out of duty?"
Hector flinched, just slightly. He let it stay. Let the
camera catch the moment his façade wavered.
"You think I didn't have reason to walk away?"
Benjamin continued, stepping closer, slow but certain. "Every whisper.
Every headline. Every silence you gave me—I endured it."
The pause in Benjamin's voice wasn't rehearsed. It was
lived-in. Worn. Like he'd carried those words for far too long.
Cale looked away.
Hector's heart beat too fast. He wasn't just acting
anymore. He could feel the weight of Benjamin's gaze like a hand pressed to his
skin.
Benjamin's voice softened, lower now, quieter, almost a
confession.
"I stayed because I never stopped believing in
you."
The air thinned.
Hector blinked, once. His line sat on the tip of his
tongue, but it felt wrong to say it. Like speaking would break whatever this
moment had become.
So he didn't.
He just looked at Benjamin.
And for a second too long, it wasn't Oran looking at
Cale.
It was Hector—tired, scarred Hector—looking at the one
person who had never stopped waiting.
The director didn't say a word.
He let the silence bloom. Let it stretch until even the
crew held their breath.
And then, quietly:
"Cut."
Hector walked off set without a word.
No one stopped him. Not even Benjamin.
He found an unused corridor beside the soundstage, barely
lit. The air was cool and quiet. Somewhere down the hall, a metal door clanged
softly as someone packed up.
Hector leaned back against the wall, eyes closed. Just
for a minute.
He heard the footsteps before he opened his eyes.
Benjamin didn't say anything at first.
He simply stopped a few paces away. Not close enough to
invade. But not far enough to feel like retreat.
Hector opened his eyes slowly.
"That line," He said, voice low, "was too
close."
Benjamin didn't apologize. "That's why it
worked."
A pause.
Hector looked down at his hands. The gloves he wore as
Cale were still on.
"Don't think I didn't feel it." He murmured.
"What you put in that line."
Benjamin tilted his head. "You think I'm that good
an actor?"
Hector gave a soft, broken sound—somewhere between a
laugh and a sigh.
"No," he said. "I think you meant
it."
Benjamin looked away, but didn't deny it.
"I did."
Another silence. This one longer.
Then Hector stepped forward. Just once. Just enough to
close the distance.
He reached into the pocket of his coat and pulled out
something folded.
"I was going to leave this in your script
binder." he said, pressing it into Benjamin's hand. "But I figured I
owed you at least this much."
He didn't wait for a reply.
He walked away.
Benjamin waited until Hector turned the corner.
Then looked down.
It was a small note. Folded once, cleanly.
He opened it.
'Thank you for everything you've done. I know it's taking
a toll on you. :)'
The smiley face made his breath catch.
A memory stirred: years ago, on their first project
together, a barely-known Benjamin had found a similar note tucked into his
costume bag, from a then-stardom-bright Hector.
'You were good today. Keep at it. :)'
He smiled.
Not a grin. Not something staged.
Just soft. Grateful.
He folded the note again, careful with the edges.
Tucked it into his chest pocket.
Close to his heart.
That night, the rooftop felt different.
There was no wine.
Just quiet.
And something unspoken that had begun to take root. Not a
declaration. Not even a conversation. Just the soft, fragile knowledge that
something was beginning to shift.
Benjamin arrived first.
He waited.
The wind played gently through his hair, brushing the
collar of his coat. He tucked his hands into his pockets and looked up at the
overcast sky, where only the brightest stars dared peek through the haze.
He didn't pace. Didn't fidget.
He simply waited.
And when Hector finally appeared, his steps unhurried,
holding two cups of coffee instead of wine, Benjamin straightened slightly but
didn't move to greet him.
Hector handed over one of the cups without a word.
Benjamin accepted it with a nod, his fingers brushing briefly against Hector's.
The warmth of the drink settled between them like an offering.
They sat.
Together.
Not quite touching, but closer than before.
The rooftop, with its quiet corners and distant city hum,
had become their place. Not by plan. Not by promise. But by repetition. By
presence.
They didn't speak. They didn't need to.
The silence was no longer a wall.
It was a comfort.
A space where neither had to pretend.
Benjamin sipped his coffee and made a face.
"Still terrible." He muttered.
Hector huffed out a small laugh. "Better than
needing the wine."
Benjamin smiled at that. Not wide. But genuine.
The wind passed again, cooler this time.
Benjamin adjusted the scarf loosely around his neck, then
glanced sideways. Just for a moment.
Hector was watching the skyline. But something about the
slope of his shoulders—less guarded, less drawn—made Benjamin's heart ache in a
way he couldn't name.
And for once, Hector didn't need the silence to protect
himself.
He simply let it hold him.
And Benjamin, as always, stayed right there.
Steady.
Silent.
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