The Cold War

Three weeks.Five countries.Zero conversations.

The PR tour is a whirlwind of cities, photo ops, staged smiles, and cold silences. Every time Jackson walks into a press conference, Kole is already seated. Perfect posture. Smile sharp enough to cut. Like none of it ever happened. Like he's moved on.

But Jackson knows better.Because Kole never looks at him anymore.

Not directly.Not like before.

And Jackson?He's a mess of denial and control.

Every moment feels like a balancing act. Say too much, and it crumbles. Say nothing, and it burns.

They're put in separate hotel rooms now-courtesy of a quietly updated management memo. "To avoid tension," the assistant had whispered with forced cheer. Kole had said nothing. Jackson had just nodded.

Still, every morning, Kole walks out of his room in tight, half-buttoned shirts like he doesn't feel the way Jackson watches him.

He does.

And Jackson watches. Every time.

---

Press Conference, Rome.

A journalist asks about chemistry.

Kole's response is polished: "We've worked together long enough that it's second nature."

Jackson wants to laugh. Or scream.Instead, he nods. "We know what we're doing."

They don't look at each other the entire time.

---

Dinner, Berlin.

A long table full of PR people. Kole sits at one end. Jackson at the other.

Kole laughs at a manager's joke. Leans into someone else's touch on his arm.

Jackson chews ice and clenches his jaw.

Kole sips wine without looking his way once.

---

Night, Seoul.

Jackson walks past Kole's door at 2 a.m.

Pauses.

He hears music. Muffled, slow. A voice humming.

He almost knocks.

Almost.

But he doesn't.

---

Backstage, Tokyo Fanmeet.

Kole's stylist touches his collar. Jackson sees red. She's too close. Kole leans in to hear her over the noise. Jackson is across the room but he doesn't blink.

Kole's gaze flicks up-finally-and meets his.

One second.

Two.

Three.

Jackson's breath catches in his throat.

Then Kole looks away.

---

Later That Night.

Jackson lies awake, staring at the ceiling. His phone in his hand, Kole's name on the screen.

He doesn't call.

Because he's a coward.Because he said nothing when it mattered.Because "I love you" is still echoing in his head, and he's still too afraid of what it means.

---

Meanwhile, in the next room-

Kole is crying quietly into his pillow, biting his lip so hard it bleeds.

He's tired of pretending.Tired of being near Jackson and feeling miles away.Tired of trying to erase words that meant everything when they left his mouth.

But the silence is all he has left.

And tonight, like every night this week, neither of them knocks on the other's door.

Not yet.