My Deskmate A Movie King Faked Cancer For Cash Chapter 08

My Deskmate A Movie King Faked Cancer For Cash Chapter 08

I was panting hard by the time I sprinted into the park, clutching a plastic bag filled with meds from the 24-hour drugstore.

Under the dim glow of a streetlight, Julian was curled up on a bench, his baseball cap pulled low to hide most of his face.

I rushed over, kneeling on the cold ground to shake his shoulder. “Julian?”

I pressed my hand against his forehead. He was burning up.

He stirred, pulling off his cap and looking up at me with glassy, fever-bright eyes.

My heart squeezed. Instinctively, I grabbed his hand and forced the cap back onto his head. “Be careful! What if someone sees you?”

The moment our skin met, his intense heat made me flinch.

But Julian just laughed, his smile looking a little dazed and foolish.

“Hazel, why don’t you just become my personal assistant?”

“Take your meds.”

I popped open the blister pack of fever reducers, held the pills to his lips, and unscrewed a bottle of water.

He obediently swallowed the pills, drinking straight from my hand as his throat bobbed.

—

“Do you know the way back? I can drive you.”

He shook his head. “Let’s just sit here for a minute, okay?”

The park was completely deserted in the dead of night, bathed in the amber hum of the streetlights.

I unwrapped my scarf and looped it around his neck.

Julian leaned back against the bench, turning his head to look at me.

Even with a raging fever, his eyes shone like a pair of fallen stars.

“Hazel,” he murmured.

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

Before I could tell him it was nothing, he reached into his heavy winter coat, pulled out a small wooden box, and slipped it into my hand. “For you.”

It was a heavy, palm-sized container, its surface carved with intricate floral patterns.

I thanked him, holding the box tightly without moving.

“Aren’t you going to open it?” He arched an eyebrow.

I stared at the wooden box for what felt like an eternity before speaking softly.

—

“Julian, you’ve been reading my web novel, haven’t you?”

The smirk on his face instantly froze.

“The reader who’s supported me for five years—that was you.”

I looked up, locking my eyes with his.

No matter how hard a person tried to fake a persona, their speech patterns and quirks were impossible to fully hide.

Julian let out a soft laugh, a mix of defeat and sheer relief passing over his face.

“Yeah, it was me. Your writing is beautiful, Haze.”

Haze. My pen name.

His easy confession left me completely speechless.

The main character of my story was based entirely on him, and I had dropped countless subtle hints, always torn between hoping and fearing it was actually him.

“When did you find out?” he asked.

“Your birthday gift last month. The wrapping paper was the exact same kind you used back in high school.”

He blinked, then let out a low chuckle. “You kept that paper?”

“I threw it away.”

—

He looked at me, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Liar.”

I remained silent.

In truth, that piece of paper was still tucked flat inside my diary, kept perfectly smooth.

“Hazel.”

Julian leaned in closer, his face so near that I could see the soft shadow of his eyelashes dusting his cheekbones.

“What you said five years ago… does it still stand?”

“You know I didn’t come to Upstate just to shoot a movie.”