✨Where Fantasy Meets Reality✨
Chapter 9: The Last Tour (London)
Pairing: Benedict x Actress!Reader [Benedict as Luke Thompson and Y/N as Yerin Ha inspired]
Content Warnings: Entire Chapter is a Flashback of Bridgerton S4 World Press Tour, Benedict’s POV, Mature language, Unresolved Feelings, Original interviews were slightly altered for narrative reasons, Loaded with contents either from Lukerin interviews/Benophie scenes
Fandom: Bridgerton | Lukerin | Benophie | Sophiedict
Length: 3.6k
✨Masterlist✨
8 months ago…
Benedict was still reeling from the previous evening’s Bridgerton Season Four premiere.
Landing in France for the first leg of the world tour felt less like work and more like coming home. The familiar language drifting through airport terminals, the scent of fresh coffee spilling from cafés, the rhythm of a country that had shaped so much of his childhood, all of it settled warmly beneath his skin.
France had always been his sanctuary. Having Y/N here somehow made it better.
He couldn’t quite pinpoint when it had happened. Somewhere between filming and wrapping, her presence had become woven into the fabric of his days. Once she left, he found himself noticing her absence at an alarming rate.
He’d grown hopelessly addicted to seeing her every day. He missed making her laugh, stealing naps with his head in her lap between scenes, and bingeing dreadful reality TV over her shoulder on her mobile screen whenever filming dragged on.
Hell, he even missed those endless hours trapped in that ridiculous bathtub with those strange oils and disintegrating petals. Though if he was being entirely honest, he mostly missed the way she fit perfectly between his thighs, but that was beside the point.
When she flew back to Sydney after wrapping, he’d had little choice but to count down the days until the press tour began.
And now, the agonizing wait is finally over. Now she is in Paris with him.
And Benedict was in trouble… utterly in trouble. Because Y/N appeared entirely unaware of the effect she had on him.
The true danger lay in her new-found stillness. During filming, he’d grown used to her sweet reluctance, such as the sudden retreat of her fingers when their hands grazed, or the way she would look away if she caught him staring at her.
That distance is effectively gone now.
Instead, Y/N now gravitated toward him as if drawn by some invisible thread. If there was an empty seat beside him, she took it. If they entered a crowded room, she found him immediately. If she was tired, she’d simply lean against his shoulder as though it were the most natural thing in the world.
It was truly intoxicating.
It made him wonder about things… dangerous things. Things that he had absolutely no business wondering about.
Would she miss him when all of this was over? Would she treasure this strange little bubble they’d created together as much as he did?
To be perfectly honest, he hadn't the faintest idea and he would rather let it stay that way, ignorance being bliss and all.
By six in the morning, Paris was still half asleep.
The city drifted past the car windows in soft washes of blue and gold as they made their way through the quiet streets toward Star Academy.
Y/N sat beside him in the back seat. She was sitting far too close, not that Benedict had any intention of complaining. Every time the driver rounded a corner, their knees brushed, sending a quiet jolt straight through him.
He found himself pointing out familiar landmarks through the glass, sharing stories he hadn’t thought about in years. Places he’d visited as a boy. Cafés his family used to frequent. Streets he’d wandered down long before acting had become his profession.
Y/N listened to every word. Her sweet interest completely disarming him.
And that was his downfall.
There was something rather easy about being around her. The noise in his head quietened whenever she was nearby. The constant pressure of interviews, expectations, and public appearances simply faded into the background.
Being near her felt so safe, so entirely like his private haven, that the words escaped before he could stop them.
“You should stay,” he blurted out.
Y/N blinked and turned from the window to focus entirely on him. “Stay where?”
Benedict’s heart hammered against his ribs. He suddenly became quite nervous, the quiet space of the car now feeling rather small.
It took him a moment before he finally said, “In London.”
He thought he saw a hint of something soft cross her face, but it was likely just a trick of his own wishful thinking.
“Why?”
The simple question struck him squarely in the chest. And suddenly the terrifying reality of what he was asking settled over him all at once.
Why London?
She was correct to question him. He was asking her to cross oceans, to leave her home. Australia held her childhood, her family, and the friends she cherished above all else.
What right did he have to ask her to leave all of that behind?
Surely she wouldn’t give up her world for him, and he’d never ever be selfish enough to ask that of her. Besides, he was the only one in love here.
Wasn’t he?
Retreating into safer territory, Benedict forced a smile. “Well, the industry opportunities are quite brilliant, really,” he said, pivoting flawlessly. “There’s a massive theater scene, numerous film jobs, multiple connections...”
Y/N went quiet and looked away. The silence that followed felt louder than any argument. He could physically feel her pulling away from him, their cozy bubble evaporating into utter nothingness.
Had he completely misread her?
A sick feeling settled in his stomach. Moments ago she had looked at him as though she were waiting for something. And instead of giving her the truth, he had hidden behind career advice and professional opportunities.
Regret completely washed over him. He wanted nothing more than to reach out, to physically catch his words and pull them back into his throat.
But instead, he doubled down on the lie. “You’re still young, after all. I just think it’d be a brilliant move for your career, love.”
And not because I desperately want you to stay with me.
He didn’t dare voice out that last part.
Even without seeing her face, he could feel a heavy wave of disappointment radiating from her side of the seat. Benedict realized then he had royally fucked this up.
Absolutely brilliant.
When they arrived at Star Academy, it provided a welcome distraction, as it was remarkably difficult to wallow in self-inflicted misery while surrounded by such enthusiastic people. The interview was fun and the contestants were lovely.
For a brief hour, Benedict almost managed to forget the incident in the car.
But then one of the contestants turned toward Y/N and asked, “Where do you live now?”
“Where do I live now?” she repeated.
“Yeah, are you in Australia or in London?
Y/N didn't hesitate. “I'm still in Australia. Everyone's always asking me if I want to move to London or if I'm going to. And I say… no.”
Benedict’s heart slammed into his throat. He forced a smile, playing the part of the ever-supportive co-star, all while his own world started to crumble down.
The rejection stung like hell.
She hadn’t given him a flat ‘no’ earlier. She’d given him an opportunity and he’d sufficiently wasted it.
“I think for me,” Y/N continued, breaking his heart further along the process. “Sydney is where I have my family. It's where I have my friends. And to have a place that I can go back to that grounds me and reminds me of my people and where I came from, I think it's always such a good reminder.” She paused, a bright smile breaking across her face. “And it's nice because they put me up and I don’t have to pay rent.”
Everyone laughed, so he forced himself to mimic them. He smiled, he chuckled, a perfect gentleman on cue. But inside, the joke was entirely on him.
All he could hear vibrating in his chest was the devastating reality: Australia’s home, not London and certainly not him.
The host translated Y/N’s response into French for the contestants, before turning her attention to him.
“And Benedict? You live in London?”
He swallowed hard, forcing his press-tour charm back into his features as the cameras zoomed in. “Yeah, I mean I love doing screen, and actually I've fallen in love more and more with doing screen,” he paused. “But theatre was always my first love… and I don't think there's anywhere quite like London for theatre. And if there's always the opportunity to do it there, there's no reason to move.”
The drive back to the hotel was a suffocating affair.
Benedict spent most of it staring straight ahead, his jaw tight. He was entirely trapped in his own head, collecting all the brilliant things he should have said to her earlier instead.
But before he could gather his courage, Y/N found her earbuds first and slipped them into place. Just like that, the conversation died before it had even begun. She gave him a fleeting, polite smile and somehow that hurt him more than if she’d been angry.
As Paris drifted past outside and the River Seine reflected ribbons of gold beneath the sun, Benedict almost laughed at the absolute absurdity of it all. Leave it to him to be utterly heartbroken in the one city built for lovers.
***
Luckily, the silence that had settled between them in France didn’t last forever.
Thank the heavens for that, because Benedict was fast approaching the limits of his sanity. He could have handled anger or disappointment. But what he could not handle was politeness.
Polite Y/N was absolutely terrifying.
She smiled on cue, nodded politely, and answered his questions, yet somehow managed to make him feel like the loneliest man in the world.
Fortunately, somewhere between crossing continents and landing back in London, the normalcy returned. The cities they visited along the way were stunning, a massive blur of press calls and fan events. The beautiful chaos of it all served as the perfect distraction.
They were both so completely overwhelmed by the schedule that the unspoken tension from Paris was quietly swept under the rug. Perhaps momentarily, but Benedict wasn’t about to dig that up.
The laughter returned first, closely followed by the familiar comfort of their banter.
It didn't take long for them to start sitting far too close during interviews, sharing secret jokes and laughing until they were absolutely wheezing.
Try as he might, Benedict simply could not stop staring. Every time Y/N answered an interviewer’s question, or even so much as breathed, his eyes drifted right back to her. He was genuinely tracking toward a severe case of neck injury from the way he’s constantly looking sideways towards her.
And yet, he couldn't bring himself to care. He couldn't risk missing a single moment: the flash of her smile, her clever answers, the warmth of her laugh. And when her gaze locked onto his, his heart stuttered. It made him wonder, against his own better judgment, if he’s not entirely alone in this freefall after all.
He loved it best when she pulled out her mobile to show him something from the internet, given that he lived entirely offline. Whether the clip was from Instagram or TikTok was anyone's guess. Frankly, he doesn’t have a clue what the difference was between the two, but he absolutely adored it when she casually pressed herself into his side.
Whenever Y/N was near him, he found it next to impossible for him to resist touching her. He can’t help but hold her hand a little longer than necessary, caress the small of her back, squeeze her waist when he thought no one was looking or even rest a palm against her bare thigh.
He would never admit to her how much he craves her warmth and proximity all the fucking time. But he had ruined his chance once before and he was not about to risk doing that again.
Especially now since he felt as though Y/N had finally forgiven him. Right then and there, Benedict reached a quiet decision. If his tongue failed him when it came to confessing his love, he would let his actions speak for him instead.
Every single day. Every chance he could find.
He had almost crossed the line again earlier today though, shamelessly declaring that he owned Y/N’s rom-com era and that no one else could touch it.
Truthfully, he could only hope that if she saw how fiercely he cared for her, she would stay. And Benedict would finally, truly be enough for once.
***
The final panel of the tour took place at BFI Southbank. The auditorium was packed. Every seat was occupied and every corner was buzzing with anticipation.
Episode five had just screened to thunderous applause, and now they are sitting beneath the bright stage lights answering questions.
Both of Bridgerton’s show runner and executive producer joined them on the panel, with the lovely interviewer from Shondaland leading the event. They ran through the usual drill, sharing favorite scenes and funny stories.
Benedict barely heard his own voice, far too busy drinking in the sight of Y/N talking. She looked so mesmerizing, so ethereal...istg. Looking at her all the time was quickly becoming his favourite pastime.
When it was finally his turn to speak, he was just wrapping up a thought about his character’s emotional arc when the host hit him with a follow-up he hadn’t anticipated.
“I've got to ask you, what's been your favourite moment in season 4?”
Before his internal filter could stop him, the truth came rushing out of his mouth. “If I could wrap every single moment spent with Y/N, I'd say that.” He said, his voice echoing through the crowded auditorium. “No, it's true. She's…she’s the absolute best. She's been just the perfect — God, I'm going to get emotional...”
The looming reality of the tour ending crashed down on him, and a fierce panic gripped his chest. He wasn't ready for this to be over.
He was nowhere near ready to let her go.
He cleared his throat, pushing past the lump in his chest. “She's the perfect acting partner and I couldn't have asked for anything better. She's just wonderful and she's got a very, very bright career ahead of her.” Risking everything in front of the flashing cameras, he reached over and placed a reassuring, lingering hand on her knee.
“We're wrapping our press junket so it's getting emotional.” Y/N joked to the audience, smoothly covering for his sudden burst of vulnerability. “It's been a long week. Hormones are running high. It's a lot.”
The interviewer seized on the moment instantly. “What's so lovely is that you can really see that when you're on tour and everything, you can see you're genuinely, really good friends, aren't you?”
Friends. Right, come on now. He scolded himself.
It was a brutal reminder of where he stood in this fantastical, non-existent relationship he had deluded himself into.
Benedict kept his professional smile pinned in place for the rest of the panel event, completely hiding the agony bruising him from the inside out.
***
The wrap party that night was entirely unforgettable. It was the ultimate celebration, the very last time they would all be in the same room before a new season starts.
The music was loud, the champagne was endless, and the venue was packed with laughing cast and crew. Someone was already crying into their drink. It felt like the proper end of an era.
Benedict drifted through the crowd, putting on his best casual face while his eyes scanning every corner in a desperate, quiet search for Y/N.
“She said she needed some fresh air. Try the balcony.”
Benedict blinked, turning to find Jenna, Y/N’s best friend, whom he’d finally met in person only an hour ago. She was looking at him with a thoroughly amused smirk.
“Right. Thank you,” he said, offering a breathless smile. He gave up on any pretense of acting casual. Apparently, his desperation was quite transparent anyway. His feet were already carrying him toward the balcony doors as fast as he could manage without actually breaking into a sprint.
Benedict stepped through the heavy doors and found Y/N standing entirely alone, with the whole of London glittering beyond her. The city stretched endlessly into the dark horizon, bright and beautiful.
She caught his movement and looked up as he took his place right next to her.
“There you are,” she murmured.
“Looking for me?” he asked smoothly, as if he hadn’t just spent the last hour desperately searching for her.
She turned her head, offering him a brilliant, knowing look. “Unfortunately.”
Benedict smiled, his heart finally slowing its frantic pace. They let the quiet stretch between them, just enjoying each other’s company. There was no press, no cameras. Both stood together, completely content just to exist in the same space.
But just like the fateful masquerade ball they had spent weeks filming, an invisible countdown was ticking away beneath their temporary state of bliss.
Y/N broke the silence first, her voice dropping to a soft murmur. “My flight leaves in two days,” she said, her eyes drifting back to the city lights.
A cold, suffocating wave of panic crashed over him, stealing the air from his lungs. Benedict knew she had to go back eventually, but two days? He wasn't remotely prepared for that.
“You’re leaving?”
Y/N’s brow furrowed slightly in confusion. “Well… yes.”
He knew he had never stood a chance of convincing her to stay. But he had foolishly assumed they would at least have a little more time.
“You will keep in touch, right?” she asked quietly. She was looking up at him expectantly, entirely unaware that she’d just permanently shattered whatever’s left of him.
Benedict couldn’t bear to look into her eyes. It simply hurt too much, so he turned his face toward the sprawling city instead.
After swallowing the heavy lump in his throat, he relied entirely on his years of theater experience to deliver the line flawlessly. “Of course, love. Why would I not?”
He felt Y/N’s arms wrapped tightly around his waist, her face pressing against his shoulder blades. Benedict turned to face her, holding her close. In that devastating moment, he was intensely grateful for his height. He held her tight against his chest, anchoring her there so she couldn't look up, so she couldn’t see the panic, the heartbreak or how desperately he wanted to ask her not to leave him.
They stayed perfectly still under the London stars, stretching every remaining second for as long as she would allow him, knowing fully well that this was their final midnight.
***
Two days later, his phone lit up the dark room.
Y/N: Back in Sydney. Sent you a message as soon as I landed just as you asked. ;p
Benedict stared at the screen, the playful tone of her message cutting through him like a blade. He squeezed his eyes shut, stopping his fingers from typing ‘come back’ and instantly locking his phone.
He sat alone in silence. His flat, much like his entire existence, had become too quiet, too empty.
He stopped going out altogether, ghosting his friends, dodging his family, and rejecting every single event invite. His theater ambitions just quietly fizzled out, and the excitement for any future roles faded into nothing. Even picking up a sketchbook was a challenge.
And worst was when he’s playing the piano, as all he wanted to play was their song from Bridgerton which he already mastered after a few attempts.
He missed Y/N everyday.
For Benedict, everything seemed strangely colourless now, as though someone had quietly turned down the vibrance in his life.
Days passed in a blur, and the most devastating part was that nobody truly noticed. Everyone simply assumed he was taking some well-deserved time off to rest after the exhausting press tour. Recovering in a safe, quiet bubble.
Only Benedict knew the bitter truth.
And yet, he would never tell a single soul. He had kept his mouth shut, he had played it safe, and now the curtain had fallen. He had missed his absolute final chance with Y/N.
Perhaps she’d read him like a book and his obvious feelings had properly terrified her. The moment it all got too real, she ran. She couldn’t get away fast enough though, packing her bags in two days flat just to escape to Sydney and get on with her life.
He may have been just the afterthought she’d left behind.
As the days stretched into weeks, Benedict gradually learned how to function again. Or at least he became exceptionally good at pretending.
He was a professional after all.
One day, a new script arrived from his manager but Benedict wasn’t remotely interested. He was seconds away from throwing it straight into the recycling bin when a single name captured his attention.
Y/N was going to be the lead.
Benedict saw this as a lifeline. And for weeks, he finally feels like he’s coming up for air. He can breathe again.
He was done living in a lie. He needed to see her again. The risk, the heartbreak, the messy complications… none of it mattered anymore. He would accept whatever crumbs of her presence he could get.
Now that Y/N was heading to Montreal, Benedict vowed not to hesitate for a single second. He would cross an entire ocean just to exist in her orbit, content to simply be near her, even if he exists solely in her periphery.
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