The minute cameras stood in corners around the ceiling above their heads. Their gaze, which was fixed on each other, created tension that made their ears oblivious to the sound of the lens zooming in and out.

They were in a silent competition, and the people in front of their screens were the ones speaking. Rapid heartbeats, deep breathing, droplets of sweat hitting ground and darkening carpets. Shouts of urgency to their loved ones to hurry them to come and watch the two foes try and prove their love for each other. It was a show for their entertainment. Either they are lovers or they are liars.

The streaming numbers were increasing more and more with each second that passed in silence. The CEO of the company was high on imagination; his mind switched the streaming numbers to every type of currency that existed at that moment.

“What a delight! What a delight!” he repeated again and again, and these three words were increasing his greed. He didn’t care about the consequences of putting these two in the same house for seven days. No one cared. Everyone had their eyes glued to their screens waiting for the beginning of such a show.

It is just a show. They are just puppets. No script and no advice. The two of them were left on their own to ruin each other or to protect each other. The truth must come out. Even if one of them is ruined by the end of their show.

The middle was the beginning. It began with a few gestures. A hidden grimace. A tired smile. A frown. Or a poor dance performance that didn't satisfy their fans. Gesture after gesture after gesture until people lost count and started to notice. How likely it is that a boy who has been shown on social media like a precious prize will be hurt? Very likely for the sane ones, and very unlikely for the addicted ones. Addicted to the lights, the sounds, the dance moves, the trend, and the screen.

The show started for the addicted ones.

“Josh can never hurt Alex.”

“Stop being delusional; there is no way that Alex hates his father.”

“No matter what happens, fathers only want the best for their children.”

Comments like these flooded their videos for weeks; people wanted their favourite duo back even if it was a façade. After all, it was just a show. They no longer recognise Josh and Alex as humans; they are creators. Creators shouldn't show dissatisfaction.

The staring contest didn't end yet. Josh looked at his son sitting across the table. "Smile,” he managed to say it without moving his lips or making a single sound. One look from his eyes with a small lift of the sides of his lips was a silent order. Alex couldn't remember a time where his smile wasn’t a directed one. He was told when and what to eat and how he should smile and how to cry in front of the cameras.

“I understand your concerns." Josh started talking. One sentence sent chaos through millions of people. The show has begun.

“I know that some of you believe that Alex here", a dismissive tone carried the syllables in Alex’s name, “is harmed by our content.”

Another look and a lift and Alex instinctively smiled. The cameras already caught it, and he didn't have another chance to replace his smile with a grimace. He never had second chances.

"I", Josh said, and he made his voice break as if he couldn't imagine himself hurting Alex. “I would never hurt Alex.” He said it firmly, and Alex now held back a smile; he can’t allow himself to smile without receiving the order. So he held back his smile because the first thought that entered his mind was that Josh didn't hurt him. He ruined him. Between hurt and ruin, Alex lost years of his life. Years that won’t return by praying or by succumbing to his father. He always agreed with his father in front of the cameras; it was the only thing he knew since the moment he was born. Cameras. Lights. Masks.

He knew everything about deception, and now he wants to stop deceiving himself. He wants to stop his silence when his father portrays himself as a falling angel who fights Lucifer to protect Alex. Alex needed protection, but he wanted someone to protect him from his father’s lies. Lies that are woven so well when the cameras are on. The moment the cameras are no longer rolling, his father pulls the threads of his lies like they never existed. Tomorrow, he will create new lies. Fresh ones.

“I would never be someone who uses his kid for views,” Josh continued, and Alex wondered how his father would satisfy their "fans” after saying that he cares more about Alex. “I’m sorry, guys. I love – we love you, but what kind of a guy would I be if I used my son for views?” Alex had one thought at that moment. “The kind of guy that you are now" – oh, how Alex wished to say this, to say it and quit his polite silence. To end his father’s façade. The polite and gracious façade of a loving father. A father who isn't the kind of guy who would use his son for views.

“Those who expressed their worry for Alex’s safety are appreciated. I don’t have any bad feelings toward them,” Josh said, wishing that he would continue being this perfect figure. But he didn't wish, no. He knew that he had them wrapped around his finger, and the biggest evidence of that is his knowledge that there are millions of people sitting in front of their screens watching his every move.

Of course, they watched Alex’s every move too. But Josh knows that he and Alex are one. There's no difference between them. There is no difference because Alex is shackled to Josh. He is shackled and he is moved and he is broken. Yet, Josh still moves the broken parts of him.

“But!!!” he exclaimed while looking at Alex excitedly, and Alex wanted to scoff at his father’s enthusiasm. For those at home, they must be happy to see Josh’s excitement. They must be thinking that he is excited because he is going to prove that his relationship with Alex is a happy one. Alex knew better. He knew that this look was because his father was silently counting the amount of money they would receive. No, no. The amount of money that his father will receive.

That wasn’t the only reason. Josh was reminding himself of what the streaming company will pay him. He put the goal of finishing the seven days and getting all of the money above anything else. Alex was never above anyone or anything. Off the cameras, things were otherwise.

“I want to particularly thank Mr Marcus for giving us this opportunity to clear the air,” his father said. Alex didn't miss the intentional use of the word "Mr". Marcus, the CEO of the streaming company broadcasting their show, was younger than Josh. Yet, Josh always made sure to show people that he respects everyone. Young and old. Strong and weak. Lover and foe. Strangers. No Alex. Alex was never respected by his father. He doesn't count the events happening on camera. He doesn't count the words of love that his father says about him. He doesn't recognise the loving eyes of his father when they are directed at him; he shifts his face to be filled with this love whenever the cameras are near.

Alex was a fool to think that these looks were a reality. But no more.

“You will get to see us live for 7 days. Of course I’d have loved to make the cameras available in the entire house so you would be closer to us, but Alex didn't feel comfortable about this idea.” Alex was grateful for the fact that the cameras were focusing on his father and not on him. His facial expressions would have easily betrayed him when he heard his father's words. It was his father’s wish to have the cameras only in the dining room because he wants “privacy” and “family time".

This is what he wanted. Or what Alex wanted for that matter. His father taught him well. When anyone, especially Marcus, asks Alex why didn't he agree to have cameras everywhere in the house, he must say these two words. Privacy and family time.

“I know I know that many of you would have loved to see us fully and not just in a single room, but I must respect Alex’s wishes. I would never hurt him,” Josh said, and Alex was convinced that his father would be a perfect fit for any acting gig. Just tell him that the role includes him abusing his son off-camera and loving him while on camera, and he would do the performance of his life.

“But don’t be sad! You will still get to watch our show 7 Days At Home starting today. By the end of this week, everyone who thought that I was hurting Alex will be proven wrong.”

"Right, Alex?” his father asked, and instantly Alex nodded his head in agreement. That was what he was trained to do. These two words always meant that his father finished talking, that he finished his scene. It meant that Alex had to nod and smile and agree. He did exactly that. It comes as no surprise that people see him as polite as his father is. He never tells him no. He never disobeys him. He never raises his voice at his father. He is a good boy.

But how did it take them that long for someone to notice that something was wrong with Alex and his father? Why didn't they notice immediately? How could they not notice that there are no people like Alex in real life? Or the version of him that appears when the lens is zooming in and out. No one is as good as that version of Alex is. No one. Now that someone noticed and tried to help, Alex wished they didn't. Because, like always, his father has found a way to make the whole situation beneficial. The show must go on.

Alex looked at his father’s face rather than looking at the table, and he wished that he didn't. His father was smiling an unwavering smile. A smile that meant trouble. Whenever Alex saw it, he knew that the worst moments of his life were going to happen as soon as the cameras stopped. This smile is only there when his father believes that Alex did something wrong. Wrong actions can't go without punishment. Yet, it was only Alex who was getting punished. Oh, how Alex wished for his father to be punished. He wanted more than simple punishment. More than hitting him or cursing him or hating him. He already hates him. He already has dreams where he hits him. He already curses him inside his mind, the only place where the show doesn't go on.

The punishment that Alex wished his father would go through is worse. He wished that if he were thrown into hell and his hand were trying to cling to anyone or anything to bring him out of the fires, he would cling to his father to make sure that both of them were ruined together. To Alex, this was fairness, and sometimes fairness is better than any revenge.

Both of them are liars. Both of them are actors and devils and more. Alex lied just like his father. His father ruins him, and he sits there obediently to be ruined. Surely it is a sin to endure such pain with no prayer leaving your lips. Alex stopped praying a long time ago.

“Now, as much as we would love to stay here for a while and stay on camera, we have to go and get some rest. It has been a very long day with all the moving to the filming location and getting ready to film. But tomorrow you will get to see us from early morning!”

His father wasn't tired, as he said. He doesn't even look tired. The only thing that he could be tired of is continuing this politeness any longer. Alex didn’t forget his father’s smile. Trouble was coming. It was coming and nothing would stop it. At that moment, Alex wished that the cameras were all over the house and not just in the dining room. Or that the microphones installed in the dining room were capable of capturing sounds outside of the room.

The moment they went outside of the room, Alex felt his back hitting one of the walls, and his cry of pain was a pathetic one to him; it was pathetic because, just like every time, no one would hear him. No one would save him.

He didn't even get the chance to move away from the wall. His father was in front of him quickly, and he held Alex’s jaw tightly as he brought his face closer to Alex.

“You think this was funny? Huh? Acting like a sad miserable kid who is tortured to be sitting with his father at the same table,” his father yelled at him as he pushed his hands against his jaw harder, making his skull hit the wall again and again.

Alex couldn't speak. He was used to this, and yet it still hurt. It hurt to be dealing with two versions of his father. It hurt to see people praise the polite and fake version of his father. It hurt to be weak and fake and similar to his father. It hurt.

“I do everything for you!” his father yelled, and Alex would have scoffed if it weren't for his father holding his jaw tightly.

It will never end. It will never end. If Alex stays like this sad miserable kid, then his jaw will forever remain in his father’s hands. If he stayed like this, then he would be treated like shit when the cameras are not on. If he stayed like this, then he would always be compared to his "polite” and kind father.

If Alex stays like this, then he will surely die. And when he dies, he would die as a fake kid. As a sad and miserable kid.

It wasn't worth it.

“Fuck you,” Alex screamed several times as he kicked Josh until he let go of his jaw. Perhaps the look of pure shock on Josh’s face was the only real emotion that Alex saw on his face. He wants to break him just like he broke him.

“I’m going to kill you!” Josh yelled as he rushed toward Alex and pushed him as hard as he could. He fell on top of Alex, and as he raised his left hand to punch him, he noticed where they were. In the dining room. He pushed Alex into the dining room. The room where there are the cameras and the microphones and the addicts – no, no, the fans – sitting in front of their screens.

Is he ruined? This was his only thought. He didn't think about his son’s bleeding nose. He never thought about his son, and this time it wasn't different.

Josh looked at one of the cameras and started speaking. "We are just joking around,” he laughed and then acted surprised as he saw the blood on Alex’s face. “Oh my God, Alex, are you okay?” The show must go on.

“No, but I will be,” were Alex’s last words before he pushed his father off him and started punching him.

The numbers were going up. The tweets and hashtags were all about 7 Days At Home. Marcus couldn't believe it.

His crew thought that he would ask them to stop the cameras and go to the house and separate Josh and Alex. They expected him to be worried and scared for the safety of his "actors". They expected him to be this kind man whom they thought they knew. They expected Marcus to be a human, and he wasn’t.

“Sir, should we–" One of the crew started talking, and Marcus didn't even let him finish. “Don’t you dare turn off these cameras.” His words sounded sinister. He was no longer the one they thought they knew. His facade fell off, and yet he didn't care. With the number of people watching the show, he won’t have to care about anything for the rest of his life.

And so he stood there. Delighted. High. Feeling like he was in heaven while he should have resided in hell. More money. More glory. More greed.

He didn’t care about the safety of Josh and Alex, who were rolling on the ground. He won’t care if one of them was killed by the other. In fact, he would be happy. It would mean more views and more money and more glory. More, more, more mo–.

“What the hell just happened?” Marcus yelled as he ran to the monitors after the live feed was cut off. No voices and no cameras. No show.

“They cut the cables while fighting,” one of his crew replied while all of them tried to make the cameras work remotely without the cables being plugged in.

“Well, then fucking fix it!” Marcus yelled and punched one of the walls, not caring nor feeling the pain spreading through his hands. The pain of losing money was worse.

“Sir, we managed to get the voice back, and we are trying to do the same with the came–" The one speaking stopped talking as they heard music coming from the dining room. The hairs on the back of their necks stood. Blood. The sound of blood splashing. Heavy breathing. Rapid footsteps. Door closing. Whimpers.

The crew also whimpered. The people were terrified, but yet they enjoyed the show.

They rushed to use their phones to try and recognise the music playing. Soon enough, millions of places were filled with the sound of The Hooks by Thom Yorke. Blood. The sound of blood splashing. Heavy breathing. Rapid footsteps. Door closing. Whimpers. All of this was heard all over the globe.

And then a gunshot. Another gunshot. Not in the track. Not in the track. Not in the track.

“Sir, maybe we shouldn't bring back the cameras.” The crew was terrified. But the show must go on.

“Maybe you should do your fucking job and bring back their fucking faces!” Marcus yelled as his eyes followed the unbelievable numbers streaming live.

With such numbers, he wouldn't care if the father and son died. And they did.

The cameras were back, and the track playing in millions of houses was replaced by gasps, screams, and whimpers. It was replaced by terror.

Josh was on the ground lying in a pool of blood. Maybe his? Or was it Alex’s?

Maybe both.

Alex was lying next to him, sharing the same pool with a dinner knife in the middle of the blood. Both were stabbed. Both were shot in the face. A gun was covered in blood just like everything and everyone inside the dining room.

The scene was perfect for Marcus. Just perfect. What a delight.

Maybe both.

“What happened was terrible,” Marcus said to the journalists who were sitting in the press conference.

“When I agreed to do the show and let the fans see Josh and Alex, whom they deeply loved, I never imagined such an ending.”

“It broke my heart to see such a gruesome scene, and I’m deeply sorry for all the families and people involved who witnessed it.”

He didn't leave a chance for any of the journalists to ask him any questions.

“Unfortunately, if we knew what was going to happen, we wouldn't have put real knives inside the house. One could never imagine such an ending.”

But Marcus did imagine it.

“What hurt me even more–" His voice broke. The show must go on. “What hurt me even more was the fact that someone from my own team and my own company planted a gun inside the house. As you all know, the police are investigating what happened. But I won’t rest until I know who put that gun on. Because if I don’t know, then I will forever blame myself. I will always think that if that gun didn't exist, then maybe Alex and Josh could have been saved. It would have only been knife wounds. The only thing that I’m grateful about is that no one knows who killed who. Who killed himself after he killed the other. If we knew, then we wouldn't sympathise with the killer. We will make one the victim and the other the criminal, and we won’t pray for the latter. Both need our prayers.” Marcus took a deep breath after the last sentence and attempted to wipe a tear going down his face.

“Again, I will not rest until I know who put that gun there.”

But he knew who put it there.

The show went on.