Chapter Text
It had been a month since that night, yet the night still clung to Phuwin like smoke in his lungs. No matter how many times he told himself it was a mistake, no matter how fast he pressed block when Pond’s name lit up his phone calling him after he disappeared the next morning, the memory refused to die. He had deleted Pond’s number, blocked every unknown call and told himself over and over again that night was nothing but a mistake. A lapse. A weakness.
He thought deleting Pond from his life would make it easier. It didn’t. If anything, the silence carved him open. Because whenever the world whispered Pond’s name through interviews, through photos, through headlines he couldn’t stop himself. He watched. He listened. He searched for something he had no right to search for.
And every time, it left him shattered.
Because Pond smiled like nothing had happened, and yet Phuwin swore he saw it- the faint heaviness in his eyes, the tiredness in his laugh. Maybe it was all in his head. Maybe it was just his guilt painting illusions. But he couldn’t stop staring, couldn’t stop looking at the man who had already ruined him.
Phuwin hated cheaters and he hated being the weapon in someone else’s betrayal. He hated himself for touching someone who wasn’t his to touch, for letting himself be wanted in a way that broke everything he believed about love.
Love to him was sacred, two people bound to each other without a crack wide enough to let temptation slip in. He had always sworn love was untouchable and something you protected with your whole being but Pond that night had looked at him like he was the only one in the room, touched him like he was all he ever wanted, whispered words that felt like truths. And Phuwin had believed him. Believed enough to let himself fall, for one night, into something he should have run away from.
But his heart betrayed him and the guilt now was merciless.
Because even as he cursed himself, even as shame burned through him, the ghost of Pond’s touch lingered. His lips remembered. His body remembered. His chest ached for something he could never allow himself to want again.
He lay awake some nights, staring at the ceiling, whispering the same words like a prayer, like punishment.
Never again.
One night manager P’ gave a message informing the upcoming schedule, Phuwin swiped it open absentmindedly eyes skimming the details. Venue confirmed, press coverage arranged and flight tickets attached.
And the line that made his throat close, his chest immediately clenched.
‘Pond will also be attending’.
The airport felt heavier this time. The Gentle Monster store opening should’ve been pure excitement another step forward in his career, another chance to shine. But all he could think about was the shadow that waited for him there.
Pond.
He had dreaded this day for a month. Wished time would stretch, stall, maybe skip over it entirely. But it came too quickly, as if the universe had been impatient to watch him burn.
On the flight over, the thought struck him more than once to cancel. But he could never let himself. Not when the brand trusted him. Not when his own dreams were tied to it. And most of all, not when cancelling would look like fear. He couldn’t give Pond that kind of power over him.
At the hotel, after checking in, his first question to Manager P slipped out sharper than he intended.
“Is Pond Naravit staying here too?”
The answer came swift and steady.
“No. He’ll be flying out right after the event. Personal work he says.”
Relief hit him so hard he exhaled like he’d been underwater. His shoulders eased, his chest loosened. Just the event, then done. They would be in the same room, breathing the same air, but he could handle that. He would smile, bow and pose for the cameras professional, untouchable. After that, no hotel corridors to cross, no awkward silences in elevators, no chance of stumbling into him in the middle of the night. Just one event, then the ocean of distance again. One night had wrecked him. One month hadn’t healed him. But at least this time, he told himself, he could keep his walls intact.
The event hall shimmered under the flood of flashbulbs, laughter bouncing off mirrored walls. Phuwin adjusted his blazer, the practiced smile locked into place as the cameras turned toward him. For a few minutes, it almost felt normal.
Just work. Just another event.
And then the air shifted.
He didn’t need to look, his body knew. The ripple of voices, the subtle surge of excitement from the crowd, the way photographers angled their bodies to capture someone new walking in. Phuwin’s stomach clenched before his eyes betrayed him. Tall, deliberate steps, every inch carved in black tailoring. Hair falling just right, smile polite but sharp enough to cut. Phuwin felt the floor tilt under him. One month of silence cracked in a single glance. Pond’s gaze slid across the hall, smooth as if searching for something, then stopped.
Landed. On him.
Phuwin’s breath hitched, but his smile didn’t falter. He told himself not to move, not to show anything. But he couldn’t stop the way his pulse hammered against his throat.
He didn’t look. Not once. Not even when the photographers called out for them to stand closer, shoulder to shoulder, to let the collection drape perfectly across both their frames. Phuwin obeyed, but his eyes locked on the camera lens, never straying, never faltering.
The handlers moved them together for photos, two faces of the campaign. Phuwin angled his body slightly away, just enough to keep space. Pond noticed. Of course, he noticed. His smirk was faint, almost invisible to the cameras, but it burned like a secret meant only for Phuwin. Beside Phuwin, Pond moved like he belonged there. Smooth, magnetic, every subtle tilt of his jaw calculated. The crowd adored it. Cameras adored it.
Phuwin hated it.
But he felt him.
Every time the flash ended, every time the director lowered his hand signaling a pause, Phuwin stepped back. Adjusted his cufflinks. Pretended to listen to the coordinator.
Anything to put space between them and every time, Pond closed it. Not dramatically, not enough for the cameras to notice just a quiet lean, a brush of his sleeve against Phuwin’s arm, a shadow that never stopped following.
The heat burned at the edge of his composure.
“Closer,” one of the staff called.
Phuwin did. For the picture. For the campaign.
“Missed you.” Pond whispered low enough that only Phuwin could hear once he got the opportunity.
Phuwin froze for half a second too long, the camera shutters catching it. But, he forced his expression back, lifting his chin, eyes trained on the sea of lights in front of them. After the moment, shutters stopped Phuwin moved. A step left. A half-turn toward the display wall. His breathing sharp, controlled. By the end of the session, Phuwin’s jaw ached from holding it shut. He bowed politely to the crew, thanked them with the warmth they expected. But his palms were trembling, hidden deep in his pockets, as he avoided Pond’s eyes for the hundredth time.
He was proud of that.
The restroom was quiet, almost too quiet after the storm of cameras and flashing lights. Phuwin leaned over the counter, slipping his watch back into its velvet box, the zipper of his shoulder bag half-open beside him. His reflection looked steady tie knotted perfectly, skin powdered smooth but his pulse betrayed him, thudding like a drum inside his chest.
The click of the door made him freeze.
He turned sharply.
Pond.
The coat was gone, shirt sleeves still rolled from earlier, a faint sheen of sweat on his temple. He didn’t say a word at first, just locked the door behind him with a deliberate press of his thumb.
Phuwin’s throat went dry.
“What are you doing here?”
Pond leaned back against the door like he had all the time in the world, eyes steady on him.
“You didn’t look at me once today.”
Phuwin scoffed, shoving a charger into his bag with more force than necessary.
“Maybe because I didn’t want to.”
“That’s funny.” Pond’s tone was soft, almost amused.
Phuwin spun on his heel, glaring. Pond pushed off the door, taking two slow steps forward. His presence swallowed the small space, and Phuwin instinctively took half a step back, his spine hitting the counter.
Pond murmured. “One month. You ignored my calls.”
Phuwin’s hands curled tight at his sides. His voice broke, sharp with guilt.
“Move back Pond.”
For a second, silence pressed between them, thick as glass. Pond’s jaw tightened, his usual smirk gone, replaced by something heavier. Pond’s eyes softened, just for a breath, like he could see every war raging inside him. Phuwin’s chest heaved, his lips parting, but no sound came. The tension was electric, unbroken, Phuwin trembling under its weight, Pond waiting with that unbearable patience like a predator giving his prey the choice to run or stay.
Phuwin shoved Pond back with the press of his chest, forcing space between them. His eyes were blazing.
Pond caught his wrist, grip firm, refusing to budge. His voice was low, steady.
“Are you running from me?”
Phuwin jerked his hand free like the touch burned.
“Don’t touch me.” His words landed like shards of glass.
He then moved passed Pond and strode toward the door, fingers brushing the handle, only to freeze when Pond moved faster, planting himself squarely in front of it, arms braced against the frame. The air in the room turned tight.
“What’s the problem, Phuwin?” Pond’s tone was sharper now, stripped of teasing.
Phuwin’s glare could have cut steel. “I said move.”
“No,” Pond snapped, standing firm. “Not until you answer me first.”
Phuwin crossed his arms tightly across his chest, as if holding himself together. Pond’s jaw flexed, searching his face.
“Why are you doing this? Because I need to know.”
Phuwin’s laugh was bitter, hollow.
“Are you realizing that I want nothing to do with you at all?”
“Yeah?” Pond shot back, eyes narrowing. “Then what happened that night?”
That was the breaking point. Phuwin’s hand shot out, fisting Pond’s shirt, yanking him forward. His voice cracked with rage. His breathing was ragged, his hand trembling against Pond’s chest.
“Shut up. Don’t you ever bring that up again. Do you have no shame doing such low act when someone was waiting for you in their home?”
For once, Pond’s mask slipped. His brows furrowed, confusion flashing genuine in his eyes.
“What are you talking about?”
Phuwin’s grip tightened, then released, his expression twisting in pain. His voice dropped, sharp and final.
“Don’t you dare utter one more lie. I’m done with you, Pond. We are strictly professional- nothing less, nothing more. Leave me the fuck alone.”
He shoved past him with sudden force, chest heaving as he stormed out the door, leaving Pond standing there, stunned in the echo of his anger. Phuwin’s hands wouldn’t stop trembling. His whole body felt unsteady, like the ground itself had shifted beneath him. How dare Pond walk back into his space so shamelessly again, as if nothing had happened, as if Phuwin was just another face he could toy with? What did Pond think of him? Some kind of game? A pushover to be strung along and discarded?
Fuck no. He wasn’t going to play whatever twisted lie Pond was spinning this time.
But even as anger burned through his chest, something darker, more dangerous, clawed beneath it. The moment his eyes had met Pond’s again after all these weeks, his felt his body betray him. His skin buzzed, his heartbeat thundered, his lungs constricted like he couldn’t breathe right unless he was closer. But Phuwin knew his morals. His place.
And that was the cruelest part. How much his heart yearned for the person he doesn’t want to associate with anymore.
By the time he reached the lobby doors, his pulse still hadn’t steadied. He spotted Manager P waiting with the car pulled up to the curb. Phuwin clenched his jaw, forcing himself into composure, but the weight in his chest only pressed harder. Sliding into the backseat, he leaned his head back against the leather, eyes shut tight for a second before he forced the words out. His voice was low, cracked at the edges.
“I just want to rest at the hotel, P. Let’s go.”
Manager P glanced at him in the rearview mirror, reading more than Phuwin wanted him to, but didn’t comment. The car pulled away, and Phuwin kept staring out the dark glass, fists tight on his knees, praying the night would end before he broke apart entirely.
Phuwin had buried himself in the hotel bed as soon as he reached his room, still in his clothes, not even bothering to turn on the lights. He let the curtains stay half-drawn, the city outside humming against the glass, while he sank into restless half-sleep. His body ached from more than the shoot- it was the weight of Pond’s face and Pond’s voice that refused to leave him.
Hours fled by. When his stomach finally growled, sharp and insistent, he forced himself upright with a sigh. Anything to distract himself. He picked up the room phone, ordered something quick and heavy, and sat back down, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. The knock on the door came sooner than expected. Relief fluttered briefly in his chest at least he would have food now. He swung the door open, already reaching for the tray.
But it wasn’t room service.
Manager P stood there instead, hands folded in front of him, expression caught between apology and hesitation. The hallway light cast shadows under his eyes.
Phuwin froze, confusion flickering into irritation.
“What is it?” he asked, his voice hoarse from sleep.
The hotel corridor was quiet, shadows of the city lights dancing faintly across the floor. Phuwin stood at the door, arms crossed, eyes heavy but sharp.
“P’. I said I’m fine. You can rest and enjoy the night,” he had told his manager, soft but firm.
But then came another shadow behind his manager, one Phuwin had tried to avoid the entire day. Pond stood there, hood pulled up, his face carrying a gentleness that didn’t fit with the storm still brewing between them.
His manager shifted awkwardly, guilt in his voice. “Sorry, Phuwin. But he was not giving up. I had to bring him here.”
Phuwin’s brows furrowed, his arms pressing tighter against his chest.
“P’, I said I don’t want to talk with anyone.”
“I know. I know. But he said he has some important work topic to discuss with you.”
The scoff left Phuwin before he could stop it, sharp and bitter. “Right?” His eyes flicked toward Pond, unamused and then back to his manager.
“Alright P’. You can go and enjoy the night. I’m okay.”
His manager sighed, holding up his hands. “Alright, cool it down okay both of you. If you need anything, Phuwin, call me, yeah?”
“Yeah,” Phuwin muttered, eyes trailing after him until the silence fell again in the corridor.
Phuwin turned back to his front and Pond was still there outside the door, hands buried in his hoodie pocket, gaze steady but softened in a way that pressed uncomfortably against Phuwin’s chest.
“I thought you had personal work after the event. Why are you here again?” Phuwin said flatly, though his heart betrayed him, beating unevenly.
Pond’s eyes lingered on him, unreadable and raw, before he moved forward.
“You are my personal work.”