Fralachi

The humid air of the New Zealand filming location clung to Freya Skye’s skin like a second layer of costume. She sat in her trailer, staring at her reflection in the vanity mirror. At sixteen, she was living the dream: a lead role as Nova in *Zombies 4*, a burgeoning music career, and a cast that felt like family. Her blonde hair was styled into the sleek, futuristic waves required for her character, and her blue eyes sparkled under the harsh LED lights.

A sharp knock at the door broke her concentration. She expected MK, her self-appointed "big brother," coming to drag her to the craft services table for more snacks. Instead, the door swung open to reveal Malachi Barton.

Malachi leaned against the doorframe with the practiced ease of someone who knew exactly how handsome he was. At eighteen, he had that effortless charm that made the fans go wild—tan skin, deep brown eyes, and hair that always looked perfectly messy. In the movie, he played Victor, Nova’s star-crossed love interest. In real life, he was becoming a problem.

"Hey, superstar," Malachi said, his voice dropping into that low, flirty register he used during press junkets. "You ready for the chemistry read with the director? Or do you need more time to swoon over my headshot?"

Freya rolled her eyes, turning back to the mirror to apply a final coat of lip gloss. "In your dreams, Malachi. I’m just trying to remember my lines so I don’t get distracted by how much you overact."

Malachi laughed, stepping into the trailer and closing the door behind him. The click of the lock echoing in the small space made Freya’s stomach do a nervous flip. She didn't like the way he was looking at her—not like a co-star, but like someone who had already won a prize she hadn't agreed to give.

"Listen, Freya," he said, his tone shifting from playful to serious. He walked over and leaned his hands on the vanity, trapping her between his arms. "The studio is looking at the social media metrics. 'Novictor' is already trending, and we haven't even finished filming the first act. The fans want us to be real."

Freya frowned, pushing back her chair so he had to move. "The fans like the characters, Malachi. That’s the job. We do the scenes, we go home. You’re eighteen, I’m sixteen. It’s weird."

Malachi’s jaw tightened. He wasn't used to being told no. He was the golden boy of the franchise, the heartthrob everyone wanted a piece of. "It’s not weird. It’s marketing. And honestly? I really like you, Freya. I think we’d be great together."

"I don't feel the same way," Freya said firmly, her British accent sharpening with her annoyance. "I want to focus on my music and my acting. I don't need a fake boyfriend, especially one who doesn't understand the word 'no'."

Malachi’s expression darkened. He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a whisper that sent a chill down her spine. "You’re new to this world, Freya. I’ve been here a long time. I have connections you haven't even dreamed of yet. If you don't play along—if you don't give the fans what they want—I can make sure your 'amazing voice' never gets heard outside of this set. There are ways to make an actress look... difficult. Unprofessional. Replaceable."

Freya felt the blood drain from her face. "You’re threatening me?"

"I’m giving you an opportunity," Malachi corrected, a sharp, cold smile returning to his face. "We start 'dating' tomorrow. A few Instagram stories, some hand-holding at the premiere, maybe a ‘candid’ photo of us at dinner. You do this, and your career stays on track. You don't... well, I’d hate to see Nova get written out of the sequel."

He patted her shoulder and walked out, leaving Freya trembling in her chair.

***

The next morning, the set was buzzing. They were filming a big dance number in the "Neon District" of the zombie city. MK Knife, the nineteen-year-old Australian fireball who played Vargas, was already in the center of the floor, showing off some intricate footwork.

"Oi! Freya! Come on, let’s see those moves!" MK shouted, his grin wide and infectious. He was like a burst of pure energy, and usually, Freya loved being around him. He treated her like a younger sister, always looking out for her.

Freya tried to force a smile, but it felt brittle. She saw Malachi standing by the camera, talking to Sway Bhatia and Julian Lerner.

Sway, who played Vera, was currently laughing at something Julian said. Julian, with his curly dark hair and pale skin, was the resident intellectual of the group, always reading a script or a book between takes. They were all so happy, so normal.

"You okay, kiddo?"

A hand rested on Freya’s shoulder. She looked up to see Meg Donnelly. Meg, who had been the face of the *Zombies* franchise for years, had a way of seeing right through people. Behind her stood Milo Manheim, looking like a protective older brother.

"I'm fine, Meg. Just tired," Freya lied.

Milo crossed his arms, his tall frame casting a shadow over her. "You don't look tired. You look like you’ve seen a ghost. Is it the choreography? Because if MK is being too intense, I’ll go put him in a headlock for you."

"No, MK is great," Freya said quickly. She looked over at Malachi, who was now staring directly at her. He raised his phone and tapped the screen pointedly.

"Hey, guys!" Malachi called out, strolling over to the group. He slid an arm around Freya’s waist, pulling her flush against his side. "Freya and I were thinking about heading out to that cafe in town after wrap. You guys should join us... or maybe just let us have some 'us' time?"

The group went silent for a beat. MK stopped dancing, his eyebrows shooting up. "Us time? Since when did you two become an 'us'?"

Sway’s eyes widened. "Wait, are you guys actually...?"

"It’s new," Malachi said, squeezing Freya’s side hard enough to hurt. "Right, Freya?"

Freya felt the weight of everyone’s gaze. She saw the confusion in MK’s eyes and the sudden suspicion in Meg’s. She thought about her contract, her songs, and the cold look in Malachi’s eyes the night before.

"Yeah," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "It’s new."

***

The rest of the day was a blur of forced smiles and staged proximity. Every time the cameras weren't rolling, Malachi was there, touching her hair or whispering in her ear. To the crew and the other actors, it looked like a blossoming romance. To Freya, it felt like being trapped in a cage.

During a break, MK caught her by the trailers. He wasn't smiling anymore.

"Freya, talk to me," he said, his Australian accent thick with concern. "What’s going on? Yesterday you were complaining that Malachi was too loud and annoying, and today you’re practically attached at the hip. He’s eighteen, Freya. He’s a player. Everyone knows it."

"It’s fine, MK. I just... I changed my mind," Freya said, looking at her shoes.

"Bullshit," MK snapped. "You’re a terrible liar. Did he do something? Did he say something?"

"MK, please, just leave it alone," Freya pleaded, her eyes welling with tears. "I have to do this."

MK’s expression softened, his protective instincts flaring. "You don't have to do anything you don't want to do. I’m nineteen, I’ve been in this industry long enough to know when someone is being pressured. Is it the studio? Is it him?"

"I can't tell you," she choked out.

Before MK could press further, Julian and Sway walked over, looking excited.

"Did you guys see?" Sway asked, holding up her phone. "A fan took a picture of you two talking earlier and posted it on Twitter. It already has fifty thousand likes. People are calling you 'Fralachi'."

Julian nodded, though he looked a bit more skeptical. "The PR team is going to love this. They’re already asking if we can do a group TikTok to 'subtly' confirm it."

Freya felt sick. It was working. The machine was moving, and she was just a gear in it.

***

That evening, the cast gathered in the hotel lounge. Milo and Meg were presiding over a game of Mario Kart, trying to keep the vibes high.

"Come on, Milo! You’re cheating!" Meg laughed, shoving his shoulder as his character zoomed past hers.

"It’s not cheating, it’s skill!" Milo retorted, grinning.

Freya sat on the edge of the sofa, trying to blend into the furniture. Malachi was sitting right next to her, his arm draped over the back of the couch, his fingers occasionally brushing her neck.

"You’re very quiet tonight, Nova," Malachi whispered, using her character's name. "You should be happy. The engagement on your Instagram went up twenty percent in four hours."

"I don't care about the engagement," she hissed back.

"You should. It’s what keeps you employed," he replied coldly.

MK, who was sitting across from them, hadn't taken his eyes off Malachi all night. He saw the way Freya flinched when Malachi touched her. He saw the way she looked like she wanted to run out of the room.

"Hey, Malachi," MK said loudly, cutting through the laughter of the others. "Why don't you come help me get some more drinks from the kitchen? I need a hand with the crates."

Malachi looked annoyed. "Get Julian to do it."

"Julian’s playing the winner of this round," MK said, his voice firm. "Come on, mate. Don't be lazy."

Malachi sighed, standing up. "Fine. Don't go anywhere, Freya."

As soon as they were in the kitchen, away from the others, MK didn't head for the drinks. He turned around and shoved Malachi against the counter.

"What the hell are you doing?" MK growled.

Malachi smirked, straightening his shirt. "I’m dating a beautiful girl, MK. Why are you so worked up? Jealous?"

"I know her, Malachi. She’s scared of you," MK said, stepping into his space. "Freya is like a sister to me. If I find out you’re using your 'seniority' or whatever ego trip you’re on to force her into this, I will end you. I don't care about the movie. I don't care about Disney."

Malachi’s smirk didn't fade. "You think you’re the big hero? Look at the numbers, MK. This is good for everyone. Even you. More eyes on the movie means more eyes on your dance sequences. Just stay out of grown-up business."

"She’s sixteen!" MK yelled.

The lounge went silent. A moment later, Milo appeared in the doorway, his expression grave. Behind him, Freya was pale, her hands trembling.

"What’s going on in here?" Milo asked, his voice low and dangerous. He looked between MK’s fury and Malachi’s smugness.

"Ask Malachi," MK spat. "Ask him what he told Freya in her trailer yesterday."

Malachi looked at Freya, his eyes flashing a warning. *Consequences.*

Freya looked at Milo, then at Meg, who had moved to stand beside her. She looked at MK, who was ready to fight for her. For the first time since she’d arrived on set, she realized she wasn't alone. Malachi had power, but he didn't have the family.

"He told me he’d ruin my career if I didn't fake date him," Freya said, her voice shaking but clear.

The silence that followed was heavy. Malachi’s face went from smug to panicked as he realized he had miscalculated.

Milo stepped forward, his height suddenly very intimidating. He didn't yell. He didn't push. He just looked at Malachi with utter disappointment.

"You think you have that kind of power?" Milo asked quietly. "Meg and I have been doing this for ten years. You think we’re going to let you bully a co-star?"

Meg stepped forward, her blue eyes icy. "I’m calling our manager. And then I’m calling the producers. Malachi, I think you should go to your room. Now."

Malachi looked around the room. Sway and Julian were staring at him in horror. MK looked like he was waiting for an excuse to swing.

"I was just—it was a joke," Malachi stammered, backing away. "A PR stunt. Everyone does it."

"Get out," Milo said.

Malachi scrambled out of the kitchen, his "player" persona crumbling with every step.

Once he was gone, the tension broke. Freya burst into tears, and Meg immediately pulled her into a hug. MK came over, rubbing her back.

"I’m so sorry, Freya," MK whispered. "I should have stepped in sooner."

"Is my career over?" she sobbed into Meg’s shoulder.

Milo laughed, a warm, genuine sound. "Kid, you’re the best thing to happen to this franchise in years. If anyone’s career is in trouble, it’s his. We’ve got your back. Always."

Freya looked up, wiping her eyes. She saw Sway and Julian nodding in support, and MK giving her a wink. The "Fralachi" trend might have been a nightmare, but the real family she had found was more powerful than any hashtag.

"Thanks, guys," she breathed, finally feeling like she could breathe again.

"Now," MK said, trying to lighten the mood. "Who wants to watch me beat Milo at Mario Kart? Because that’s the real drama we should be focusing on."

As the group laughed and headed back to the lounge, Freya felt a weight lift. She was sixteen, she was a star, and for the first time, she felt like she truly belonged.