enemies - who - live - together

Scene: Minutes After the Kiss

The kiss ends not with a pull-away, but with a soft exhale, like both of them are afraid to break the quiet. Nut's forehead still rests lightly against Hong's, their breaths mingling in the space between.

Then —

CLACK:

The front door opens. Fast. Loud.

William:

(cheerfully, from the hallway)

Hey, anyone home? I swear, this house smells weird — like blood and laundry detergent had a baby․

Nut and Hong jolt apart so fast it's like they were yanked by invisible wires. Nut scrambles backwards, knocking his knee against the coffee table. Hong nearly trips trying to stand up, palms sweating as he wipes his mouth like that could erase what just happened.

They barely manage to settle — Hong with arms crossed, leaning against the wall; Nut flopped sideways on the couch like he's been bored for hours.

William enters the room with a bag of groceries in one hand and an unopened can of soda in the other. He stops mid-step, eyes flicking between the two of them.

William:

(eyebrow raised)

...Okay. What happened? You both look like you just got caught doing something illegal. Or worse. Like — hugging.

Hong:

(flatly)

Gross. Don't even joke like that.

Nut:

(scoffs)

I'd rather choke on a spoon than hug this guy.

Hong:

(snorts)

Funny. You were practically begging for my attention earlier.

Nut:

Only because I was bored. Talking to you is like talking to a damp sock.

William:

(confused, tilting his head)

...Right. So, same as always then. Room's got a weird vibe though. You guys burn something? Or like... put a curse on each other again?

Hong:

Just your cooking still lingering in the air, probably.

William:

(smirking)

Rude. I only set off the smoke alarm twice this week.

Nut:

(low, under his breath)

Yes, we know. The trauma still lives in my lungs.

William flops into the armchair, oblivious to the flushed ears and lingering eye contact the other two keep trying to avoid. He cracks open his soda and takes a long sip.

William:

You two seriously need a hobby that doesn't involve emotionally scarring each other.

Hong:

Trust me, I'm working on it.

Their eyes meet for half a second — an accidental spark before both of them look away again, too fast, too practiced.

William:

(leans back, feet up)

Anyway, if you're planning to keep up this enemies-who-live-together-and-make-each-other-miserable thing, at least make it entertaining for the rest of us. Like, throw a pillow or something next time. Drama. Give the people what they want.

Hong walks towards the kitchen, hiding the smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth.

Hong:

Sure. Next time, I'll hit him with a chair.

Nut throws a pillow at Hong's back.

Nut:

Try it and I'll set your hair on fire while you sleep.

William:

(grinning)

See? This is the content I live for.

But as Nut watches Hong disappear into the kitchen, and hears William go off about his new energy drink obsession, a small smile tugs at his lips — just for a second. Then it's gone.

The silence between him and Hong might be back, but it's different now.

Thicker.

Charged.

And very much alive.

Setting: Morning. Kitchen and living room of the shared house.

The sun filters in through the half-open blinds, casting long stripes of gold across the kitchen tiles. The house smells like toast and instant coffee, with just a hint of fabric softener clinging to the air from someone’s early morning laundry. The muffled sound of a t-pop playlist plays off someone's phone in the next room — bouncy and bright, completely at odds with the quiet tension simmering just beneath the surface.

Lego is the first one up, as always. He’s already dressed — oversized hoodie in pastel pink, socks mismatched on purpose. He moves with purpose and a dramatic flair, dancing slightly as he flips pancakes at the stove like he's auditioning for a cooking show.

Lego:

(singing along, off-key but enthusiastically)

"Call me baby~ Call me baby~"

He flips a pancake with a flourish and gasps when it lands perfectly.

Lego:

(to himself, dramatically)

Talent. Absolute talent. Where’s my morning applause?

No one answers — yet.

A door creaks open down the hallway.

Hong shuffles in, hoodie pulled over his head, sleeves too long, looking like he hasn't slept. He mumbles something that might be "morning" but it comes out closer to "mnnng."

Lego turns around, frying pan still in hand.

Lego:

(pointing at him with a spatula)

You. You look like you just fought a ghost in your sleep.

Hong:

(gravelly)

I did. His name was Regret.

Lego:

(snorts)

Oof. That sounds like a you problem.

Hong:

(grabbing a mug)

It is. Don’t make it a you problem.

He pours himself coffee, trying to act casual — but Lego’s sharp eyes don’t miss the way he flinches when Nut walks in.

Nut is freshly showered, hair still damp, shirt half tucked like he got dressed too fast. He pauses just slightly when he sees Hong already in the kitchen, their eyes catching for the briefest second — and then breaking just as quickly.

Lego:

(suspicious, hands on hips)

Why are you both acting weird?

Nut:

(flat)

We’re always weird.

Hong:

(mutters into his mug)

He’s weirder than me.

Nut:

Bite me.

Hong:

Gladly.

Lego:

...OKAY. Ew. Someone’s flirty this morning.

Hong and Nut:

(in unison, too quickly)

I’m not.

The room goes quiet.

Lego:

(stares, deadpan)

I said what I said.

Just then, Tui strolls in wearing sunglasses indoors, despite the fact that it’s cloudy out. He looks like he hasn’t had a proper night’s sleep in three years and couldn’t care less.

Tui:

(yawning)

Why is it so loud in here?

Lego:

It's literally not. You just have the hangover of a 40-year-old man.

Tui:

(ignoring that)

Did someone make eggs?

Lego:

I made pancakes.

Tui:

But did someone make eggs?

Lego:

(sighs)

I am not your housewife, Tui.

William:

(from the hallway)

Lego, babe, if you make eggs I’ll do your laundry for a week.

Lego:

(pauses, then smugly)

Now that’s the energy I deserve.

William enters in pajama pants, hair a disaster, carrying an armful of tangled wires and a controller.

William:

I fixed the PlayStation. But it cost me three hours of sleep and a possibly permanent neck cramp.

Tui:

Priorities.

William:

Damn right.

As everyone crowds into the kitchen, grabbing plates, arguing over syrup, bumping elbows and tossing insults, the space fills with life — messy, chaotic, ordinary.

But through it all, Nut and Hong barely speak.

They sit on opposite ends of the table, pretending to focus on their food, laughing a little too hard at things that aren’t funny. Not making eye contact. Not touching. Not acknowledging the electric line still humming between them from last night.

At one point, Nut drops his fork. Hong leans down to pick it up at the same time. Their hands meet.

A pause. Barely half a second.

Then Hong clears his throat and slides the fork over without a word.

Nut mutters a thanks.

Neither of them looks up.

But Lego does.

Lego:

(squinting)

...I knew it.

William:

Knew what?

Lego:

Nothing. I’m just very observant.

He flips another pancake, smirking to himself.

Outside, the morning clouds begin to break apart. The light shifts, warm and golden again.

Somewhere in the space between ordinary moments, something real has started — quiet, cautious, and hiding in plain sight.

But it’s there.

And it’s not going anywhere.