Chapter Text
Phuwin wasn't supposed to be here.
This was, without a doubt, the stupidest thing he’d done in his entire life—agreeing to meet a stranger from a dating app just because the man seemed interested. Well, overly interested. Flirty in a cocky kind of way, persistent but not pushy. Charming, annoyingly so. And Phuwin, in a moment of weakness and boredom, had said yes.
Now he was sitting at a rooftop bar he didn’t even like, alone, thirty minutes into what was supposed to be a casual date, and the man hadn't even shown up.
Phuwin sighed and stirred the melting ice in his glass with the straw, glaring at the soft orange sky bleeding into twilight. Beautiful, romantic, and completely wasted on a night like this.
He took out his phone, ready to send a passive-aggressive message—or maybe block the guy entirely—when a voice behind him said, “You don’t look like a ‘Phuwin’.”
Phuwin turned, unimpressed—and promptly forgot how to breathe.
The man standing there looked like trouble. Tall, effortlessly handsome, with tousled hair, a slightly unbuttoned shirt, and the kind of grin that made people either run or fall too fast.
“I’m Pond,” he said, sliding into the seat across from Phuwin without waiting for an invitation. “Sorry I’m late. Traffic. And indecisiveness. I changed shirts three times. Thought I’d impress you, but now I realize I should’ve just worn a helmet instead.”
Phuwin raised an eyebrow. “To protect yourself from my judgment?”
Pond laughed—easy, unbothered. “Exactly.”
Silence stretched between them. Phuwin took another sip of his drink, unsure whether to get up or wait this out for five more minutes.
“So,” Pond said, folding his arms on the table, eyes fixed on him like he was trying to read through layers. “Is it just me, or do you look like you already hate this date?”
“I don’t hate it,” Phuwin said. “I just... shouldn’t have come.”
“That bad already?” Pond asked, tilting his head, his grin fading just slightly. “I haven’t even said anything stupid yet. Well—unless that helmet line counts.”
Phuwin didn’t answer. He looked at the city lights starting to glow, and said, more to himself, “I don’t do this.”
“Dating?” Pond asked.
“Strangers. Apps. Pretending I’m here for something casual when I’m really just trying to forget something.”
Pond was quiet for a beat. “Then let’s not pretend.”
Phuwin’s gaze snapped back to him.
“No pressure. No expectations,” Pond said, voice gentler now. “We’re already here. Might as well have a drink, trade a few stupid stories, and go home knowing we at least met someone honest.”
Phuwin didn’t reply, but he didn’t leave either. And slowly, almost unwillingly, he allowed himself to relax.
By the end of the drink, they were talking—awkwardly at first, but then smoother. About music, food, travel, Pond’s fear of cats despite claiming he was a “soft boy,” and Phuwin’s failed attempt to ride a scooter in Rome that ended with a bruised ego and a stolen wallet.
They laughed. They shared fries. And at some point, Pond leaned a little too close.
“You have really distracting eyes,” he said softly.
Phuwin looked at him, face unreadable.
And then, like a defense mechanism, he stood up. “Thanks for the drink. I should go.”
Pond blinked. “Wait—did I cross a line?”
“No,” Phuwin said. “But I might, if I stay.”
And with that, he walked away—heart pounding, footsteps steady, and unaware of how hard Pond was staring at his back as he left.
Phuwin didn’t expect to see him again.
After all, that’s how app dates worked. One night, one drink, a little banter, and then... silence. That was the rule. That was safe.
But fate—or karma, or just very bad luck—had other plans.
It was two weeks later, on a rainy Tuesday afternoon. Phuwin was at the small independent gallery where he worked part-time—quiet space, neutral walls, art that made people feel important even if they didn’t understand it. He liked it. It was calm.
Until chaos stepped through the door in the form of Pond.
Dripping wet, no umbrella, laughing breathlessly as he shook water from his hair like a golden retriever. Phuwin stared from behind the counter, mouth slightly open.
“You work here?” Pond asked, clearly surprised but also delighted.
Phuwin recovered quickly. “You’re stalking me now?”
Pond smirked. “If I was stalking, I’d at least have brought coffee and a cheesy excuse.”
“I would’ve preferred that to... whatever this is.” Phuwin gestured to the puddle Pond was leaving by the entrance.
“I didn’t know you worked here,” Pond said, stepping closer. “I’m actually looking for a piece. For my condo.”
“You live alone?” Phuwin asked before he could stop himself.
Pond grinned. “Curious, are we?”
“Don’t flatter yourself. I just want to know how fast to call security.”
Pond placed a hand dramatically on his chest. “Ouch. And here I was, thinking about asking you for dinner. A proper one this time. Indoors. With food.”
Phuwin’s eyes narrowed. “You don’t give up, do you?”
“Not when something feels worth it.”
Something in his voice made Phuwin’s heart skip. He hated it. Hated the warmth curling in his chest. Hated how his lips almost twitched into a smile.
He sighed. “Pick a painting. I’ll ring it up.”
“I already have,” Pond said, gaze not leaving him. “But I don’t think it’s for sale.”
Phuwin rolled his eyes. “Cringe.”
“Effective.”
“No, just so cringe.”
But he didn’t stop looking at Pond.
And he definitely didn’t stop thinking about him when he went to bed that night, staring at the ceiling, wondering if he’d made another stupid decision… or if this was the beginning of something that might actually matter.