The table read was scheduled for nine.

Elliot arrived at eight-forty, which was twenty minutes earlier than necessary and forty minutes earlier than he wanted.

He told himself it was professionalism. He told himself it had nothing to do with the fact that Roman would be there.

The conference room was on the second floor of the production office. Long table. Folded chairs. A whiteboard covered in episode breakdowns.

A few people were already there. Dana. Two writers. The director, a wiry woman named Priya who'd directed three of Elliot's favorite indie films.

Elliot took a seat at the far end.

He pulled out the pilot script. Flipped to the first page. Stared at the words without reading them.

The door opened.

He didn't look up.

He knew it was Roman. He knew from the shift in the room — the way conversations paused, the way people sat up a little straighter.

Elliot kept his eyes on the page.

Roman took a seat. Not at the far end. Not across from Elliot.

Directly beside him.

"Morning," Roman said.

Elliot turned a page he hadn't read. "Morning."

"Did you sleep?"

"Enough."

A pause.

"You used to hate mornings," Roman said. "You'd set three alarms and still be late to everything."

Elliot's jaw tightened. "People change."

"Some things don't."

Elliot finally looked at him.

Roman's expression was calm. Almost warm. Like he wasn't sitting next to someone who'd spent years despising him.

Priya called the room to order before Elliot could respond.

"Alright, everyone. Let's start from the top."

---

The read went fine.

Elliot knew his lines. He'd always been good at that — memorizing, hitting marks, doing the work.

What he wasn't prepared for was Roman.

Roman read Julian like he'd been living inside the character's skin for years.

Every pause. Every breath. Every flicker of emotion.

He knew exactly where Noah would hesitate. Exactly where Julian would push.

It was like watching someone play chess against himself.

At one point, Priya stopped them.

"Elliot, page twelve. Noah's monologue about the letters."

Elliot found the page.

"You're playing it too angry," Priya said. "Noah isn't angry here. He's heartbroken. There's a difference."

Elliot nodded. Adjusted. Tried again.

Priya frowned. "Better. But there's a moment — right here — where Noah almost cries. Can you find it?"

Elliot scanned the lines. He saw it. But something blocked him. The emotion sat just out of reach.

"Let me try again," he said.

Before he could start, Roman leaned over.

"It's the comma," Roman said quietly.

Elliot blinked. "What?"

"Page twelve. Third paragraph. 'I waited for you, and you never came.' There's a comma after 'you.' Noah doesn't pause there. He swallows. That's the moment."

Elliot stared at him.

Roman shrugged. "Just a thought."

Elliot looked at the page. The comma. He'd read it a hundred times and never noticed.

He tried the line again. Swallowed at the comma.

His voice cracked on "came."

Priya's eyebrows lifted. "Yes. Exactly. Keep that."

Elliot nodded. His throat felt tight.

He didn't thank Roman. He told himself it was because he didn't need to.

---

The break came at noon.

Elliot escaped to the hallway. Leaned against the wall. Closed his eyes.

The door opened behind him. Footsteps.

He didn't need to look.

"You still do that," Roman said.

"Do what?"

"Disappear when you're overwhelmed."

Elliot opened his eyes. "I'm not overwhelmed."

Roman stood a few feet away. Hands in his pockets. He looked relaxed. He always looked relaxed.

"You used to do it in college," Roman said. "After every show. Every audition. You'd slip out before anyone could talk to you."

Elliot pushed off the wall. "Why do you remember that?"

Roman didn't answer.

"Seriously," Elliot pressed. "Why do you remember any of it? We weren't friends, Roman. We were — "

He stopped.

"What?" Roman asked.

"Nothing."

Roman studied him. "Room 314."

Elliot froze.

"That's what you were going to say," Roman continued. "We were roommates. And you hated me."

"I didn't — "

"You did." Roman's voice was matter-of-fact. "You hated me from the first day."

Elliot's chest tightened. "You made it easy."

Roman nodded slowly. "I know."

That stopped Elliot cold.

"I know I made it easy." Roman looked at him directly. "I was — I didn't know how to — " He stopped. Started over. "I wasn't good at talking to people back then."

Elliot stared at him. "You were the most popular guy on campus."

"Popular isn't the same as good at talking."

The door opened again. Dana poked her head out.

"We're back in five."

Roman turned and went inside.

Elliot stayed in the hallway. His heart was doing something strange.

---

The afternoon session covered episodes two and three.

Elliot tried to focus. He really did.

But Roman's words kept looping in his head.

*I wasn't good at talking to people back then.*

That didn't fit. None of it fit.

The Roman he remembered was effortless. Charming. He collected people without trying.

Elliot had watched it happen a hundred times.

The girl from his philosophy class who'd agreed to coffee, then spent the entire date asking about Roman.

The professor who'd pulled Elliot aside after a scene study to say, "You're good, but Roman has something you don't."

The audition senior year — the one Elliot had been sure he'd get.

He'd prepared for weeks. Worked with a coach. Memorized every beat.

Then the callback list went up.

His name wasn't on it.

Roman's was.

Elliot had never asked. He'd just assumed.

He always assumed.

---

After the read, Priya pulled them aside.

"The bar scene. Episode one. We're shooting it tomorrow."

Elliot's stomach dropped.

"I want you both off-book by tonight," Priya said. "Run it together. Find the rhythm."

She left before either of them could protest.

Elliot stood in the empty conference room. Roman stood across from him.

"We don't have to do this tonight," Roman said. "We can run it in the morning."

"No." Elliot shook his head. "She's right. We should practice."

He didn't know why he said it. Maybe pride. Maybe something else.

Roman nodded. "My place? Seven?"

"Why your place?"

"Because yours has no furniture."

Elliot opened his mouth. Closed it.

"How do you know that?"

Roman's expression flickered. "Dana mentioned it."

Elliot didn't believe him. But he was too tired to argue.

"Fine," he said. "Seven."

---

Roman's apartment was on the twelfth floor of a building near the water.

It was clean. Spacious. The kind of place that smelled like expensive candles and had art on the walls that wasn't from IKEA.

Elliot stood in the doorway, taking it in.

"You can come in," Roman said.

Elliot stepped inside. His shoes squeaked on the hardwood.

"Kitchen's through there. Bathroom's down the hall. Make yourself comfortable."

Elliot didn't move.

Roman walked past him. Opened the fridge. Pulled out two bottles of water.

"Ready?" he asked.

Elliot took the water. "Ready."

They ran the scene.

Elliot's character, Noah, walks into the bar. Sees Julian for the first time in eight years.

He's supposed to grab Julian's collar. Pull him close.

Kiss him like he's been starving for it.

Elliot ran it once. Twice. Three times.

Each time, something held him back.

"You're hesitating," Roman said.

"I know."

"Why?"

"I don't know."

Roman set his water down. "Can I try something?"

Elliot shrugged.

Roman stepped closer. Not Julian-close. Just close.

"You don't have to kiss me," he said. "Just grab my collar. That's all."

Elliot reached out. His fingers brushed Roman's collar.

"Now what?" Elliot asked.

"Now you look at me."

Elliot looked up.

Roman's eyes were steady. Calm. He wasn't mocking. He wasn't pushing.

"What did I do?" Roman asked quietly.

"What?"

"In your head. Right now. What did I do that makes you want to hate me?"

Elliot's grip tightened on Roman's collar.

"You took things," Elliot said. His voice was low. "Things that should have been mine."

"What things?"

"The audition. Senior year. The one I prepared for. The one I was supposed to get."

Roman didn't flinch.

"I didn't take it," he said.

Elliot's breath caught. "What?"

"The role. I didn't take it. I turned it down."

Elliot's hand dropped from Roman's collar.

"You — what?"

"They offered it to me after you didn't get the callback." Roman's voice was even. "I said no."

Elliot stared at him. "Why would you do that?"

Roman didn't answer.

"Why would you turn down a role you wanted?"

"I didn't want it."

Elliot's head was spinning. "You were the lead in every show we did. You — "

"I didn't want that one." Roman's jaw tightened. "I wanted you to have it."

The room went very quiet.

Elliot opened his mouth. Closed it.

"Why?" he finally asked.

Roman looked at him. For a long moment, he didn't speak.

Then he said, "Run the scene again. This time, don't hesitate."

Elliot wanted to push. Wanted to demand answers.

But Roman's expression had closed. The wall was back up.

So Elliot stepped forward. Grabbed Roman's collar.