Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The supply crates had finally arrived, after nearly a week of delays and exasperating back-and-forths the production house kept having with the supply chain. Fourth knew this was par for the course with the kind of custom orders they’d placed, but the impatience on the production house’s end was palpable .

Nonetheless, the air now buzzed with activity—Fourth’s crew unpacking the materials, shouting instructions, and the constant clatter of tools. It was chaos, but Fourth thrived in it. 

This was his domain: precision, numbers, measurements, logistics. Where others might feel overwhelmed by the noise and movement, Fourth found it grounding, a rhythm that sharpened his focus.

Since they re-shot the supply run episode a few days ago, Fourth had been making what felt to him like a considerable effort to be more open on camera. He gave more detailed answers, let his personality peek through when Dunk asked him questions, and even managed to hold a steady rapport with both men. Still, his responses rarely wandered beyond construction talk—his safe zone.

Gemini, however, was proving to be a different kind of challenge. Lately, Fourth had noticed a pattern: Gemini had a knack for interrupting him.

Whenever Fourth was in the middle of explaining plans to Dunk, for the camera—outlining techniques or timelines—Gemini would suddenly interject with an onslaught of questions.

“Will the foundation structure be ready in time?”

“Have you worked on projects like this before?”

“What happens if we run into drainage issues after plastering?”

The questions always seemed to come out of nowhere, tangential at best, and often things Gemini already knew the answers to. Yet Fourth answered them every time, offering detailed explanations even as Joong teased him about the subtle smile that seemed to creep onto his face whenever he spoke to Gemini.

Sometimes, Fourth forgot to return to Dunk’s half-answered question, leaving the poor guy hanging. Fortunately, Dunk knew how to roll with it for the cameras, playing along gamely.

Still, Fourth couldn’t quite figure Gemini out. The interruptions didn’t seem urgent, and yet they kept happening.

And, when Gemini asked, Fourth always answered.

But whenever Gemini and Dunk started bantering—throwing playful jabs or laughing over some shared joke—Fourth would awkwardly linger at the edges of their exchange, unsure how to join in. He felt this urge to participate, to have Gemini’s doe eyes crinkle at Fourth too, but he couldn’t find the right reasons. He’d glance between them, his mind blank for something to say, and eventually, he’d slip away to focus on his work.

It didn’t help that last night Fourth woke up in a sweat, his dream vivid and impossible to ignore, the proof of it straining under the sheets.

It had started in flashes: soft but insistent lips brushing against his, their movements purposeful, unrelenting. They wanted something from him, and Fourth hadn’t resisted. His hands had gripped someone—something—their frame warm and solid, familiar in a way that made his pulse quicken. It felt like a body he had held in his not too long ago.

Then, however, there was a faint hammering sound in the background—rhythmic and distant—edging closer with every moment of the now chapped lips on him. It made Fourth tense up, knowing what the warning signs were when his memories or dreams were inching toward memories of Mark. The hammer’s beat grew louder, more insistent, the sound making his heart thump in its rushed tune, until Fourth shifted beneath the weight of the man above him.

The shift earned a resigned sigh from the man above him, and the sound laced with something so achingly familiar. Then the smell hit him—mint, fresh and clean. It cut through the oppressive heat of the dream, blunting the sharpness of the hammering sound. The ache in Fourth’s chest dulled to something fleeting, something soft.

The man leaned back just enough for Fourth to catch a glimpse of his face. 

And there he was .

Gemini’s lips were plump and swollen when he looked up at them, his cheeks flushed like bread fresh out of the oven. His half-lidded eyes, looking down at Fourth’s, burned with something that made his stomach twist. His deep voice rumbled Fourth’s name, before his lips captured Fourth’s again.

In the dream, Fourth held no room for hesitation. He had leaned up to meet Gemini halfway, kissing him harder, deeper, losing himself in the sweltering heat of it all. 

When Fourth woke up, the memory of how Gemini had just ground down on him, clung to him… vivid and unsettling.

He hunched over, as if his whole body wanted to cover up any proof of the dream, scrubbing his hands over his face, willing the heat in his chest—and lower—to fade. 

  It was just a dream . It didn’t mean anything.

In the shower that morning, watching his shame go down the drain, Fourth smoothly chalked it up to the amount of stolen glances they’d been sharing lately.

But even as he told himself that, the thought lingered, refusing to let go. 

Now, munching on his leafy lunch, he couldn’t stop his mind from replaying the recordings they often watched as a team, all huddled around Pond’s setup. The recordings seemed like they were less about the renovations and more a montage of moments when Fourth could clearly see Gemini staring at him, his gaze fixed with almost unnerving intensity, deliberate.

He wasn’t simply watching Fourth speak; he was studying him. His eyes lingered on Fourth’s lips, as though every word was something to be unraveled, every breath something to be savored.

At first, Fourth thought he was imagining it. But the more he noticed, the harder it was to ignore. 

So he began observing Gemini in real time, hoping to prove himself wrong. That decision, however, only made everything worse.

Gemini would be looking at Fourth, sure, but there was no shame in the eyes, no batting eyelashes or looking into the distance or acting like he wasn’t looking. Fourth could not look away either, so there they would be, staring into each other’s eyes, and watching as Gemini’s eyes would flicker lower, it could be mistaken for an unintentional move, or a trick of the light under the haze of sawdust. But then Fourth’s teeth would catch his lower lip, a subconscious reaction to the burn of Gemini’s attention. That small movement only seemed to fuel the tension between them, their eyes inevitably meeting again, charged with something Fourth wouldn’t dare name.

His eyes would wander, tracing the curve of Gemini’s back, the way his shirt clung when he twisted to address someone, the fabric tightening just enough to reveal the dip of his waist. Fourth would catch himself staring and force his gaze away, sometimes coughing awkwardly as if to scold himself for slipping.

It was maddening, the way Gemini looked at him—intense, almost hungry—it made Fourth feel like something was burning between them. But just as quickly as the thought surfaced, he pushed it away, every time.

It couldn’t be real. 

Maybe it was just his imagination, yes, his own desires projecting meaning onto Gemini’s actions. 

Maybe the weight of Gemini’s gaze was something Fourth had conjured, a trick of his mind trying to make sense of the dream. But in his heart, Fourth knew better. That dream had felt too familiar, too easy. Like he’d already been there once before.

And yet, he did what he always did. He buried the thought, shoved it into a corner of his mind, and focused on the work in front of him.

_______

Joong was perched on a ladder, tightening a loose beam, when his eyes wandered toward the entrance. From his elevated vantage point, he could see Dunk in the middle of a serious conversation with Fourth. He couldn’t hear what was being said, but the intensity on both their faces intrigued him. A moment later, Dunk strolled into the site, his focus now entirely on his phone.

Joong would’ve finished the work on the beam before heading down to greet the man who’d been occupying far too much of his thoughts lately, but something about how Dunk was absentmindedly scrolling on his phone, not even looking around as he walked, made him stop, worried.

“Ohho... someone’s feeling pretty confident, walking through an active construction site without even looking up from their phone,” Joong called out, his tone light but with an edge of worry.

Dunk slowed, glancing around before his gaze lifted to Joong. His eyes brightened for a split second before a small, guarded smirk replaced the warmth.

“Careful up there,” Dunk replied, leaning casually against the wall and placing a steady hand on the ladder. “We wouldn’t want Fourth’s crew falling apart…” He let the words hang for a beat, a playful grin tugging at his lips as his grip on the ladder firmed. “At least not on-camera.”

Joong glanced down at him sharply, a playful smirk crossing his face, ignoring how none of Dunk’s expressions were reaching his eyes. 

If Dunk didn’t want to talk about it, he won’t either.

“Aww, worried about me? That’s sweet, Dunk. It’s nice to know I’m being cared for…I wonder if I could be the one caring some day too.”

Dunk shrugged, though his tone was softer than usual. “Just wouldn’t want don’t want you to get hurt, that’s all. Not everybody needs reciprocal care.”

He tilted his head, looking at Dunk properly. “What’s your deal, huh? You seem like you’ve been carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders lately.”

Dunk straightened up, feeling caught off guard by the way Joong’s eyes softened, the teasing look replaced with something more sincere. He scratched the back of his neck, “I’m fine , don’t worry about it, Joong.”

That’s it. He can’t stay nonchalant while Dunk looks like that, Joong wasn’t buying it. Stepping down from the ladder, Dunk’s steady hands still holding it in place, Joong closed the space between them. His gaze was warm, unwavering, and disarming.

“You sure you’re okay? You look like you could use a break,” Joong said softly, his voice steady but filled with concern. “Or maybe someone to… look after you for once. I meant it earlier.”

Dunk’s breath caught in his chest, his usual defenses crumbling under the sincerity in Joong’s tone. He felt a surprising warmth spread through him, the exhaustion he’d been ignoring creeping up. 

“I’m good,” he muttered again, but this time, his voice carried no conviction.

Joong smiled gently, neither pressing nor pulling away. “You’re great at convincing people to buy into whatever you’re selling, Dunk, but that doesn’t work on someone who actually sees you. Someone who wants to be there for you.” His hand brushed lightly against Dunk’s arm, a brief but grounding touch that sent a small tremor through the guarded man.

“You don’t have to do everything alone. Not with me here.”

Dunk’s eyes flicked to Joong’s hand, the light touch making feelings surmount to the point he just wanted to pull away, to avoid letting anyone in, but there was something about Joong’s genuine care, the quiet way he was offering it, that made Dunk feel like he could finally breathe around someone else.

“I guess I’ve been a little worn out,” Dunk admitted, his voice softer now, his usual defenses slipping away. “Just… trying to keep it all together.”

Joong’s expression softened even further, his smile gentle. “You don’t have to keep everything together all the time. You’ve got people who care about you. People like me.” His voice was low, warm, almost intimate, and for that moment, Dunk couldn’t look away.

Dunk let out a long, slow breath, the weight of his exhaustion pressing down on him less fiercely. He met Joong’s eyes, the tension in the air shifting, almost imperceptibly, but it was there. “Thanks,” he murmured, feeling more seen in that moment than he had in days.

Joong winked, that playful glint back in his eyes. “Anytime, Dunk. Anytime.”

__________

Gemini had found himself trailing Fourth out of sheer curiosity, he reasoned with himself, because that wasn’t an area of the community centre they had started working on yet, had they? 

The sight of Fourth wandering off had caught his attention, but what truly held it was the fluidity of Fourth’s movements. He weaved through corners and doorways without glancing up, his eyes fixed on his notebook, yet his steps were precise, almost instinctive.

His spatial awareness must be incredible, Gemini thought. But there was something else—something about the way Fourth’s grip tightened around the sheet he was holding, it was as though he wasn’t truly seeing anything at all, like his focus was somewhere beyond his physical location.

Then, Fourth stopped.

Gemini watched as Fourth finally looked up, his gaze landing on the room around him. His reaction was immediate, he seemed to have evolved into a state of near panic, like he hadn’t realized where his steps had taken him until that very moment. Fourth’s breath hitched audibly in the quiet, and Gemini saw him place a trembling hand on the wall, fingers twitching.

It was a small gesture, but it spoke volumes. Fourth’s fingers pressed against the surface as though grounding himself, and his shoulders lifted slightly with a shaky inhale. He wished he could see Fourth’s face, but he was facing the partially broken down wall, with his back to the door Gemini peeked through.

Something in Gemini’s chest ached at the sight, his feet itching to move forward. Maybe he could lean against the doorframe, make his presence known, ask if Fourth was okay. Say something—anything—to ease the tension weighing on him. But before Gemini could act, movement on the other side of the room caught his attention.

It was Dunk, stepping carefully over the rubble to enter.

Gemini froze, his body instinctively pressing further into the shadows of the doorway. He watched as Dunk paused, his gaze fixed on Fourth, Dunk must have barely whispered a few words to him, words Gemini could not hear from where he crouched. 

To Gemini’s surprise, Fourth began talking. 

Not in his usual curt, clipped way—no dismissive phrases meant to brush someone off. Instead, His voice was steady, but layered with soemthing raw. The rumble of it echoed into Gemini from every direction. Gemini could feel the mocking the walls aimed at him, at the way Fourth and Dunk seemed so close. 

Gemini watched on as Dunk listened intently, his head tilted slightly, his brows furrowed in concentration. The hiding man should’ve left, he had no space here. But he couldn’t, not when he saw how Dunk never interrupted, didn’t shift or fidget—just stood there, absorbing every word Fourth said with an air of quiet respect. His focus was entirely on Fourth, his head tilted slightly, brows furrowed in quiet concentration. He stood bent forward just enough that his gaze aligned with Fourth’s, his posture almost reverent.

Gemini’s stomach twisted painfully. He hadn’t realized Fourth talked to Dunk this much, enough to have what seemed like a clearly vulnerable conversation. 

‘Do they always share these kinds of moments?’ Gemini wondered, his chest tighten further, ignoring the bitterness the echoes across the walls brought into his heart.

But it wasn’t just the words, was it? It was the way Dunk looked at Fourth, as if Fourth’s every word was vital, something to be treasured. Of course Fourth would want to talk to someone like that, Gemini thought, letting the bitterness make room in his feeble heart. 

Someone who listened so completely, who made Fourth feel seen in a way Gemini wasn’t sure he was allowed to.

He told himself that they made sense . Dunk was easy to talk to, good at listening, he had been on the listening end of a lot of Gemini’s vulnerable confessions when they would meet outside of work too. 

Fourth probably felt comfortable sharing things with him that he didn’t share with anyone else. Why should that bother him so much? 

The last time he had brought up such thoughts with P’Phuwin, the man had barked out a laugh and fiddled with his phone until ‘Olivia Rodrigo’s jealousy, jealousy ’ blasted over his home speakers, increasing the volume till he couldn’t hear Gemini’s rebuttal.

Gemini sighed, dragging a hand through his hair. Maybe it was jealousy—burning, all-consuming, thick, dark, frothing jealousy—that spread like wildfire through his chest. His intincts screamed at him to dunk someone in the ocean all to have Fourth’s attention on him again. 

Gemini wanted those steady eyes and soft smiles to be his again.

He gritted his teeth, trying to rationalize the sharp ache. Gemini tried to remind himself of the script he meticulously learnt to try and stop interrupting FourthDunk moments on camera.  

He failed every time. Desperation always won out, driving him to ask questions he already knew the answers to, just to see Fourth smile at Gemini with the bubbling excitement to answer a question he knew the answers to, to move his hands around as he would try to categorise his thoughts in front of Gemini. 

But that didn’t stop him from lingering in the doorway longer than he should have, his tired eyes fixed on the two of them. The weight of his own feelings pressed down on him like a heavy stone, one he wished he could shatter with a hammer, just to revel in the destruction.

____________

The day went on after that, most of the shooting they needed to do for today was over, so most of the camera crew had already packed up. 

Gemini stood near the makeshift worktable, running through the final checklist on his tablet. His patience was wearing thin, and Fourth wasn’t helping.

“I asked you for the samples twice already,” Gemini said, his tone clipped, trying his best to not sound harsh. “Are you planning on keeping them in the car forever? It’s like you’re purposely listening to everybody but me lately”

Fourth looked up from his clipboard, a sheepish expression crossing his face. “Of course not, Gemini. The samples. Okay, I’ll get them right away.” But as Fourth turns to get to the car, the last bit of what Gemini said echoes back to him. So he instead decides to glance over his shoulder at Joong, who was stacking some tools. He hoped being around for long enough might make Gemini tell him what Fourth did wrong this time. 

“Joong, grab the samples from the gear box, will you? And bring the toolbox from the trunk while you’re at it.”

“On it,” Joong called back without hesitation, already making his way towards it.

Gemini’s gaze lingered on the interaction, his brow furrowing slightly. Joong didn’t even ask for Fourth’s keys; he just tossed a quick salute and headed off. They must work together a lot, Gemini thought, watching Fourth return to his clipboard as if nothing unusual had happened. Maybe that’s just how it is when you’re working across sites. You share everything—vehicles, tools, even spare keys.

Joong slowed his pace down just enough to grab Dunk by the arm as he passed. “Come with me,” Joong said with a grin, tugging Dunk along.

“What? Why?” Dunk asked, chuckling and letting himself be dragged.

“It’s getting dark, and I’m not walking all the way back alone, the streets are unkind” Joong said, with just enough shake in his voice to sell the excuse.

Dunk gave him a knowing look, smirking as they made their way toward the parking lot. “You’re such a baby. You are built up like a Norse God, I am sure nobody would dare be unkind to our resident muscle man. Just say you want to spend time with the show’s talent next time” 

Joong snorted, “Whatever helps you sleep at night.” but he didn’t seem like he disagreed.

Fourth’s eyes followed Joong and Dunk as they walked away, the two of them caught in a pattern they didn’t seem to realize they’d fallen into. Every few steps, one of them would shift slightly, as if trying real hard to put some space between them, only for their shoulders to brush again, arms bumping as though neither could quite help how they gravitated toward the other.

Fourth started to observe them, then. Dunk said something, and while it wasn’t audible from where Fourth stood, his voice was carrying just enough warmth to make Joong blush. Joong’s response was quieter, clipped almost, like he was trying not to let too much slip in front of everyone. But Fourth noticed the faint curl of a grin at the corner of Joong’s mouth, the way he ducked his head just slightly, as if trying to hide it.

They were ridiculous. Both of them. They orbited around each other in a way that left no questions about their feelings. 

If only they could just be open about their feelings, say what’s on their mind. Everybody can see what they mean to each other!

Fourth leaned against the wall then, arms crossed as he kept watching, amused. At first, he’d been worried about the younger guy. Joong, for as long as he has known him, loved in a way that felt all-encompassing—falling hard, holding tight, giving too much, even when it cost him everything. It was a kind of devotion Fourth used to relate to, till life experiences taught him otherwise. 

So it was natural for Fourth to fear Joong meeting a similar fate.

But Dunk? Oh, he wasn’t any better . 

For all his suave, there was a softness in the way he looked at Joong, only at Joong, like he was memorizing every detail, filing them away for safekeeping. Fourth had caught it more than once in the past few days—the way Dunk’s smile softened whenever Joong laughed, the way he paused like he was holding himself back whenever Joong leaned too close.

It wasn’t one-sided, Fourth could see that much, it reassured him. 

They were both equally hopeless. 

The problem was that neither of them seemed to have spoken about it yet. Or maybe they did, and this awkward, tentative closeness was their way of acknowledging it without actually saying anything publicly. Joong doesn’t tell him much any more, using any conversation steering towards romance to make it about Fourth and Gemini instead.

As they disappeared around the corner, Dunk’s laughter echoing faintly behind them, Fourth huffed. “Doofuses,” his voice was soft, the hint of a smile tugging at his lips, he felt like a parent watching his son finally find a worthy companion, one that can make him finally go back to sleep with the porch light off.

_________

Outside, once in the parking lot, Dunk leaned casually against Fourth’s car, watching Joong unlock the doors with practiced ease. 

“Of course you have his spare keys.” Dunk stated, his tone light but teasing. “Is there a secret club for people who can’t say no to Joong? Should I be worried about competition?”

Joong glanced over his shoulder, his lips curling into a small, lazy grin. “Oh, it’s not a club. It’s more of a lifestyle.”

Dunk laughed softly, stepping closer. “Sounds exclusive. What’s the initiation like? Do I have to swear allegiance or just prove I can’t resist the man either?”

“Nah,” Joong replied, dumbly, as if his face wasn’t growing beet-red by the minute. “You just have to survive my bad coffee and how energetic and annoying I am as a morning person. Not everyone makes it past the first week.”

Dunk tilted his head, pretending to think. “Hmm, I don’t know about that, I’ve known you for longer than that now, haven’t I? Maybe I should stand for your club’s elections now, I might just win big.”

Joong paused, caught off guard for a moment before he smiled faintly, brushing past Dunk to open the passenger door for him.

“You already have,” he murmured, almost too quietly for Dunk to catch.

Dunk blinked, momentarily stunned into silence, he was used to the tease, but they rarely went into sincere declarations. By the time Dunk came to, Joong was already hastily getting into the driver’s seat, leaving Dunk to get into his. 

Dunk didn’t know what to do with the flutter of feelings in his chest, pushing at the seams to be let out. Once inside the car, Dunk adjusted himself in the passenger seat while Joong’s hand hovered over the ignition. But instead of starting the car, he let his hand drop into his lap.

The quiet settled around them, different now. It felt softer. But that’s how it always felt when it was just them. The fading light of the sunset bathed their view in hues of gold and yellow and orange.

Dunk’s eyes gravitated towards Joong, much like a sunflower basking in the golden light catching on Joong’s cheekbones, softening his features. He watched on as Joong let out a soft sigh, his body relaxing into the seat, and Dunk found himself wondering what was going through his head, letting his own head fall on the head rest too.

“You okay?” Dunk asked after a moment, his voice soft, hoping to not break the sanctity this moment held.

Joong tilted his head toward him, meeting his gaze briefly before looking out the windshield. 

“Yeah. Just… it’s nice, isn’t it?”

“What’s nice?”

“This,” Joong said simply, his voice low. “The quiet. You being here. Just… us.”

The words sank into the quiet, warm and steady, and Dunk’s breath caught. For once, he didn’t have a teasing reply. Instead, he let himself sink into the silence too, feeling the moment stretch between them. He took a deep breath.

Dunn took notice of everything in that moment. The air smelled faintly of pine from the air freshener where it hung off the rearview mirror, and the warmth of the fading sunlight that still lingered on the dashboard.

Joong glanced at Dunk, then, and the shades of light falling over Dunk’s face looked like petals brushing delicately against something that wasn’t meant to exist in the human realm. 

Dunk turned to him, feeling the perceptive eyes on him, his pink lips curving into a small, hesitant smile, and Joong found himself mirroring it, none the wiser. The simplicity of the moment felt too good to ruin, so neither of them spoke, just sitting there, wrapped in the quiet, looking at each other.

Then Joong broke it, after some time, his voice low and almost pained. “You’re too beautiful, Dunk. It’s not fair.”

Dunk blinked, surprised by the suddenness of the statement, before snorting softly. “So? How is it not fair?”

Joong looked back to his front, his usual self-assured grin nowhere in sight. Instead, his expression was raw, a mixture of frustration and longing.

“Because someone like you deserves… someone better than me. Someone who can offer you the world.” His voice dipped into a whisper the more he spoke, the words almost disappearing behind the clouds taking over the golden hues inside the car.

Dunk stared at him, caught off guard. He knew they were both into each other, he would have been a fool to not notice the tension and fondness between them, but it still felt sudden.

In lieu of a response, he instead shuffled till he was sitting on his side completely, a knee folded over the seat. He watched on as Joong’s fingers fidgeted with a loose thread on his jeans, now tugging at it and forming red welts on the pad of his finger.

Dunk moved slowly, then, as if lulled by the moment in time they were both trapped in, lifting his hand and placing it on Joong’s shoulder. His fingers tips reached out and grazed the skin near Joong’s neck, warm and steady, a grounding touch that made Joong unclench immediately, the unforeseen familiarity of the action making him freeze.

“What are you doing?” Joong asked, no hint of accusation in the barely audible words, his throat tight as he shifted his gaze to meet Dunk’s.

“Do you trust me?” Dunk asked, his voice quiet but steady.

He nodded, not even knowing what he was being asked to trust, but knowing the answer was always going to be a resounding Yes , his chest tightened as he whispered it still, for good measure, to leave no room for doubt either,

“Good,” Dunk murmured, voice sounding rougher now, so low it was barely a grumble.

Dunk leaned in, then, his movements deliberate and unhurried, as if giving Joong the chance to pull away. 

Joong didn’t. 

He stayed perfectly still, his heart thundering in his chest, until Dunk’s lips brushed against his, as soft as the petals Joong had envisioned them to be mere moments ago.

The kiss was soft at first—tentative, barely just a push of plump lips on another, a question hanging in the air. Dunk’s lips were warm and were plump with the remainder of the gloss from the shoot, but the touch was featherlight against Joong’s. He let out a shaky exhale. 

The movement on his lips really registered then, the warmth of the breath staying and growing heavy between them, and Joong moved. His hand came up to cradle Dunk’s jaw, holding it carefully, his thumb grazing the curve of Dunk’s cheek, finally going back and returning the kiss. 

The kiss deepened immediately, Dunk letting out a soft sound at the growing intensity as Joong pressed forward, like he wasn't expecting the kiss to be reciprocated, for his lips to part against Dunk’s. Joong’s mouth had a mind of its own, now, plucking Dunk’s lower lip into his mouth and giving it a soft suckle, teeth grazing in a hint of a bite. 

Dunk’s hand moved to grab handfuls of Joong’s hair, soft locks curling around his long fingers, giving in to the urge to grab and tug lightly, testing. The gasp Joong offered made the golden hue he could see behind fluttering eyelids feel like ambers, fanning into his soul and making him want to never leave this moment in time. 

Joong tasted faintly of the coffee he was downing earlier, sweet and cooling, and the scent of wood and man seemed stronger now, mingling with the heat radiating between them and washing Dunk’s senses with it, the smoke from the amber sizzling inside him being washed down and filling his lungs, till they were lost in a fog of all the ways they wanted the other to know what this moment meant to them. 

Dunk made a soft sound in the back of his throat, and Joong’s chest tightened at the sheer vulnerability of it, heart thudding out of his body.

Joong slid his other hand into Dunk’s hair too, playing with the short hair at the back, spurred on by the way Dunk reacted to his fingers brushing against the spot below his ear. It wasn’t just passion—it was desperation, relief, and the overwhelming feeling of finally finding something he hadn’t even known he could have. Dunk’s hands gripped Joong’s shoulders, nearly clawing at them now, grounding them both as they poured everything into the kiss.

It wasn’t hurried or frantic, but it was consuming. 

Joong’s mind went blank except for the taste of Dunk, the feel of his lips, the quiet little gasps they shared in between, the desperate inhale between kisses because they didn’t want to part. It was as if the world outside had dissolved, leaving nothing but this—them, in their own universe.

Outside, the sun had set completely by now, and the sky had shifted into dusky blues and greys. The car rocked gently with their movements, now that Joong had a lapful of a flushed Dunk, and the little pine air freshener swung back and forth, catching onto what light their passion radiated, all just from their trust in each other.

_________

The sun was setting but Gemini had been too absorbed in fine-tuning the next stage of their project’s plan to notice, he needed Fourth’s input to finalize it. He glanced up from his seat, scanning the emptying workspace for Fourth’s tall figure, but he was nowhere in sight. His chest tightened slightly with irritation— where did he disappear to now?

That’s when he spotted Dunk, aimlessly wandering through the construction site with a small, dazed smile on his lips. Gemini observed how Dunk looked almost distracted, his usual composed, camera-ready energy replaced by something softer, almost dreamy. He called Dunk over, who startled at his name being called, as if pulled out of his stupor. He quickly composed himself and walked over, failing at hiding the spring in his step, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.

“What’s got you so… faded?” Gemini asked, narrowing his eyes teasingly.

Dunk’s blush deepened, and he looked away, clearly flustered. “Oh, nothing. Just, uh, thinking about how the universe works sometimes. How one job has given me so much of what I have been lighting thups ( incense sticks used for praying) for…” he mumbled, almost to himself.

Gemini tilted his head, scrutinizing him. Something about Dunk felt… different. When Dunk sat beside him, Gemini leaned slightly closer to continue his teasing, but stopped in his tracks.

He instinctively caught the unmistakable scent, the only one that calms him down lately, the scent souring for where it was wafting off from. 

Pine.

Gemini froze.

His stomach twisted uncomfortably, thoughts spiraling out of control. His chest felt heavy, his mind racing with questions he didn’t want to answer. 

So it’s true. 

Fourth really does have feelings for Dunk. And Dunk must feel the same if he smells like him.

Is that where Fourth ran off to? Is that why Dunk looked so dazed?

His jaw clenched as his emotions swirled—anger, frustration, sadness?—he didn’t know what he was supposed to feel. The pencil shook between his fingers, betraying the storm inside him. Dunk had wandered off again, blissfully unaware of the whirlpool he’d left Gemini swirling in.

And Gemini was sinking.

Then, Fourth appeared, holding out a steaming cup of coffee.

“Here,” Fourth said, his voice softer than usual. “Thought you could use a break.”

Gemini looked up, startled out of his thoughts, lungs and heart burning from all the water and muck in them. Fourth’s brows were furrowed with concern, his gaze searching Gemini’s face. But instead of feeling comforted, Gemini’s chest tightened further. He opened his mouth to say something—anything—but then, Dunk’s laugh rang out in the background, light and carefree at something Joong said.

Fourth glanced back, his face softening into a fond smile.

Of course.

“Thanks,” Gemini muttered, voice clipped, snatching the cup. Some of the coffee spilled onto his pants, but the burn was nothing compared to the heat of anger coursing through him, so he didn’t move to wipe it off. He didn’t meet Fourth’s eyes, keeping his gaze firmly on the table.

Fourth frowned, “Gemini,” he started, his concern deepening. “Did I… do something?”

Gemini swallowed hard. The words Do you and Dunk have feelings for each other? hovered on his tongue. But before he could say it, Dunk’s laugh rang out again , loud and bright.

“I’m not feeling well,” Gemini said abruptly, placing the cup on the nearest surface, standing up and brushing past Fourth. “I’m going home.”

Fourth straightened, alarmed. “Wait—let me drive you home,” he said, his voice coming out a little too loud, drawing attention from some crew members, who smirked knowingly.

Gemini shook his head sharply. “I’ve already called for a ride. I can take care of myself just fine .”

He turned to leave again, but his frustration finally bubbled over. Pausing, he looked back at Fourth, no longer trying to stop himself, “You have others to take care of anyway,” jutting his chin toward Dunk, who was now deep in conversation, laughing at something Joong was whispering in his ears.

Fourth blinked, clearly taken aback. His mouth opened, but no words came out. 

Gemini had already walked out, he didn’t even take his bags with him. Fourth hesitated for a beat before following Gemini outside, his footsteps quick and determined.

“Gemini, wait!” Fourth called out as they reached the quiet of the night. The stars above shone faintly, muted by the streetlights.

Gemini stopped, as if he didn’t expect Fourth to actually follow him outside, to care, but he didn’t turn around. Fourth circled him then, stepping into his line of sight.

“What’s going on?” Fourth asked, his voice low and careful. He placed a hand lightly on Gemini’s arm, the touch barely there, yet warming Gemini’s body up from that one touch alone.

Gemini’s jaw tightened, he doesn't want Fourth to be able to affect him. 

He needs to end this. 

He needs to step back and let Dunk have at him, he didn’t care. He shouldn’t care. 

He met Fourth’s gaze, his voice trembling despite the sharpness of his words. “Are you in love with Dunk?”

Fourth froze, blinking in surprise. “What?” His brows furrowed and lips parted as he processed the question, his expression shifting to something caught between confusion and disbelief and… amusement.

“You’re always around him,” Gemini pressed on, his voice rising, unbeknownst to Fourth’s reaction. “He smells like you. You look at him like—”

Fourth cut him off with a laugh—sudden, sharp, and incredulous. 

“What are you even saying, Gem? Dunk…seriously?!”

His laugh paused midway, when he saw the shine in Gemini’s eyes, and he ran a hand through his own hair, his tone gentler now. 

“Joong and Dunk are practically attached at the hip. And I wouldn’t dare mess with my brother-in-law like that. What do you take me for?”

Gemini stilled, his mind snagging on one word. “…Brother-in-law?” he felt like he was in a sitcom. 

Fourth’s expression shifted through an array of emotions, as realization of what he had said dawned, settling on resignation. He sighed, a small smile tugging at his lips. 

“Um, Joong is my brother.”

The revelation hit Gemini like a life jacket right on his face. It was supposed to save him, give him a chance to breathe again, to not sink, but it had smacked him spectacularly right on his face.

The easy familiarity, the teasing, Fourth’s protective nature—it all clicked into place. Yet the truth left him reeling, a mix of relief and embarrassment flooding his chest.

Fourth watched him, amused. “You have a brother,” he said, his voice tinged with teasing. “You should know how weird it’d be to think about his partner like that.”

Gemini opened his mouth to respond but faltered, the words caught in his throat. His jealousy felt foolish now, though the ache in his chest lingered. Because while Fourth didn’t have feelings for Dunk, it didn’t mean he had feelings for Gemini either.

But then, as the moment lingered, something else registered. 

“Wait…” Gemini narrowed his eyes, finally meeting Fourth’s amused gaze, making his expression falter in worry. 

“Did you call me Gem ?”

A flush immediately ran up Fourth’s face, the prettiest shade of dust pink and red, and slowly Fourth’s smirk widened. Before Gemini could say anything else, he turned and bolted.

“Fourth! Get back here!” Gemini shouted, chasing after him, his voice half-laugh, half-screech. They tore through the night like kids, laughter echoing under the stars.

For now, it was enough. Even if Gemini had to feel all of these feelings alone, for the both of them.

Ab-so-lute-ly.

________

Pond pulls up the location Phuwin had sent him, double-checking the unassuming address on his phone. A new notification catches his eye—a message from the production house.

The snippets you’ve shared so far are great, but the show needs more of an oomph factor. We’re sending Napat, he’s our main guy when it comes to TRPs, he starts Monday.

Pond rolls his eyes, muttering, “Whatever that means...” He is about to pocket his phone when he sees his call history with Phuwin, a smile on his face at the memory.

His thoughts briefly drift to the first supply run episode they had tried to make to the warehouse… 

~

He remembers Gemini storming out, frustration radiating off him. Pond had been ready to chase after him when Phuwin’s call interrupted,

“Did something happen at the warehouse?” Phuwin had asked, his tone oddly knowing, tension in his tone like he was right there with them.

“How do you even know about that?” Pond had replied, skeptical, looking around.

“When it comes to Gemini, I just know ,” Phuwin said breezily, though Pond didn’t buy it for a second, from the sounds in the background he knew Phuwin was still at work. Phuwin never called Pond when he was at work.

“Right. And when do I get this level of attention and care?” Pond had muttered, more to himself than Phuwin.

Phuwin’s laughter had been warm, teasing. “If you want a date, just say so, Pond. Stop playing these games.” Then, more softly, “Maybe next time, I’ll come running for you .”

~

It was that memory, Pond realized, that had pushed him to finally video-call Phuwin last night and ask him out. Awkwardly, he’d also admitted he had no idea where Phuwin might want to go, knowing taking one of Thailand’s most eligible bachelors out on a public date was calling for the rainbow headlines.

Phuwin, ever confident, had suggested The Ang Club .

Not just any club, Pond learned, when all he could find about the place were a few articles trying to reveal inside scoop of the space, most calling it a myth. It owned by Phuwin’s friends and renown sibling duo, Papang and Satang. They ran the place like a fortress. Anyone who entered understood the unspoken rules: gossip didn’t leave the walls of the club. 

Now, as Pond steps into the exclusive space, the invitation card glistening as he pushed it into his back pocket, he takes a moment to adjust to the sleek, dimly lit interior. It oozes luxury and mystery, filled with the hum of muted conversations and soft music. 

Pond scans the room and spots Phuwin at the bar, his posture relaxed yet commanding.

And then he sees it—Phuwin’s outfit.

It looks like he came straight from work, but somehow, it’s maddeningly attractive. His coat is draped over the back of his bar chair, his crimson tie hanging loose with the top buttons of his crisp egg white shirt undone. The shirt contrasts beautifully with his skin, making his face almost glow—or maybe it’s just how Phuwin always is, glowing and beautiful. Pond swallows, feeling his heartbeat pick up.

He walks over, sliding onto the barstool next to Phuwin. “Heineken Light,” he tells the bartender.

Phuwin raises an eyebrow and snorts, giving Pond—the leather jacket, band t-shirt, and ripped black jeans—an unhurried, appreciative once-over. “ That’s what you’re having? A light beer?”

Pond leans in slightly, his voice softer now. “Maybe I just don’t want to forget anything about tonight.”

The sincerity in his words catches Phuwin off guard. His gaze shifts away, ears tinged pink as he lifts his drink to his lips. Internally, he’s spiraling— How does Pond do this to me?

Pond’s heart aches fondly, noticing how similarly Phuwin and Gemini blush. The air between them eases as their conversation starts to flow naturally. Before long, Pond realizes Phuwin wasn’t exaggerating earlier—no one is paying them the slightest attention. Everyone around them is caught up in their lives, oblivious to Pond and Phuwin sitting side by side.

For a fleeting moment, it feels like they’re just two ordinary people on a casual date.

Phuwin glances around the bar.“Do you ever sit and try to guess what people are talking about?” A small smile tugged at his lips. “Gemini and I used to do it all the time at our parents’ boring social events.”

Pond hummed curiously, tilting his head.

Phuwin nodded toward the laughing group. “Like them, for example. What do you think is that funny?”

Pond followed his gaze, smirking. “Easy. Someone just told a story about tripping over something embarrassing, and now they’re embellishing the details to make it sound worse.”

Phuwin snorted. “That’s oddly specific. Personal experience?”

Pond leaned back, a teasing glint in his eyes. “Maybe. Or maybe I’m just a brilliant director with an eye for chaos.”

Their banter dissolved into an easy silence, the kind that felt natural and unforced. When Phuwin spoke again, his voice was quieter, tinged with a thoughtfulness that shifted the mood.

“Sometimes I wish my life didn’t have to be planned out so much. Every step, every decision… it’s exhausting. I just want to just… live in the moment for once. It’s so easy when others do it, take a leave from work, run around the park, grab drinks of a week-night, even just going and eating street food with no consequences…”

Pond’s lips quirk into a smile. “Why not start now?”

Before Phuwin can respond, Pond starts shimmying his shoulders to the beat of the song playing overhead, a playful glint in his eyes.

Phuwin bursts out laughing, eyes scrunching up and teeth flashing, a deep contrast to the pink on his cheeks. 

“What are you doing ?!”

Pond grins and starts singing along to the song, his voice loud and purposefully off-key. Phuwin flushes, mortified, and reaches out to place his hand over Pond’s mouth. Pond continues to sing behind the warmth of his palm. Pond pulls his hand away gently, holding it in his larger hand, thumb rubbing over what it could reach, with a fondness that makes Phuwin’s breath stutter. 

“May I have the pleasure of dancing with the most handsome man I’ve ever laid eyes on?”

Phuwin’s instinct is to laugh it off, to brush the comment aside—but Pond’s earlier words echo in his head: 

Why not start now?  

Taking a deep breath,Phuwin stands abruptly, nodding toward the dance floor, tugging Pond toward the corner of it.

The poor guy is awkward and unsure, shuffling from side to side as he tries to follow the beats. He is desperately trying to keep up with Pond, whose movements are smooth and coordinated, as if he practiced the routine on his way here. 

Phuwin groans and Pond looks up, offering Phuwin a lewd wink, and starts to do a very poor attempt of a k-pop dance routine. Phuwin can tell Pond is doing it on purpose, he has seen the man dancing right after an orgasm with more finesse, but suddenly it gets easier when they are both terrible at it, and Phuwin realises how it doesn’t matter. 

Laughter bursts between them, unrestrained and full of joy. Phuwin can’t stop looking at Pond, panting between giggles, out of breath and wrapped in warmth.

A moment later, Pond notices an older couple—a pair of women, gray-haired and graceful—joining them on the dance floor. They move together effortlessly, their love and familiarity evident in every step.

Pond watched them for a moment, his gaze lingering as a soft smile curved his lips. When he turned back to meet Phuwin’s eyes, everything else faded away. The connection between them was steady and grounding, like the first rays of sunlight after a long night—warm, quiet, and full of promise. Pond felt himself drawn to it, aching to let it illuminate the corners of him he hadn’t realized were still in shadow.

The music shifted to something softer then, slower, and without a word, they stepped closer. Phuwin rested his head lightly against Pond’s chest, and Pond’s arms slipped around his waist. They fit together naturally, as though they’d been made to move in tandem. Their swaying was unhurried, an unspoken plea to stretch the moment into eternity.

Pond breaks the silence, his voice low and warm. “You’re not so bad at this, you know.”

Phuwin hums in question, tilting his head slightly. “At what? Dancing?”

Pond’s lips curve into a smile. “At letting yourself breathe and enjoy the moment.”

Phuwin looked up at him, a rare softness in his eyes. The space around them seemed to dissolve, every sound and movement in the room fading until there was only the two of them. 

Slowly, tentatively, Phuwin leaned in.

When their lips met, it was gentle at first, like the lightest brush of silk. Pond’s breath hitched, his chest tightening as the kiss deepened, even afte all this time, kissing Phuwin was a mind and body experience. Phuwin’s lips were soft but deliberate, moving with an unspoken sincerity that made Pond’s heart race. He felt the faint warmth of Phuwin’s breath against his skin, the way their closeness seemed to amplify every sensation.

Pond’s hands slid a little higher, his fingers pressing gently into the small of Phuwin’s back as if anchoring himself to this moment. The kiss lingered, unhurried, a quiet conversation of shared vulnerability and yearning. When they finally pulled back, their foreheads rested together, breaths mingling, and Pond’s pulse thrummed in his ears.

As the next song began, Phuwin tightened his hold on Pond, burying his face in the curve of Pond’s neck. The faintest trace of Pond’s signature cologne reached him, grounding and familiar. Phuwin silently wished for the night to stretch forever, the warmth of Pond’s arms making him feel, for the first time in a long time, completely and entirely safe.

“Phuwin,” Pond began, the hesitation in his voice made Phuwin pause, looking up and meeting lidded eyes and flushed cheeks, “I know this is a date, and maybe first date rules are different, but… do you want to get out of here?”

The look in Pond’s eyes, the struggle to keep his tone warm made Phuwin smile innocently, and Pond would’ve smiled back, if it wasn’t for the hip that was now brushing against his embarrassing semi, making his eyes flutter shut. Phuwin loved the effect he had on Pond, it was addictive. 

When Pond finally opened his eyes, the response he could feel against his own thigh giving him the confidence to continue, “I will look up some hotels-”

“Or,” Phuwin offers, his voice quiet but steady, “you could come to my place instead.”

The suggestion catches Pond off guard. He blinks, straightening slightly. “Your place?”

Phuwin nods, his face betraying nothing.

Pond huffs a small laugh, half-disbelieving. “You’ve never invited me over before. I just figured you weren’t the type to have people at your place.”

Phuwin’s lips twitch into a faint smile, his gaze softening. “I’m not,” he admits. “But you’re… Pond.”

The simplicity of the statement—and the weight behind it—settles something warm in Pond’s chest.

On the drive over, Pond as always took the wheel of Phuwin’s Porsche, his hands steady and sure on the leather-wrapped steering wheel. Phuwin leans back in the passenger seat, watching Pond in the dim light cast by passing streetlamps. 

He doesn’t say much, but his thoughts churn.

Phuwin used to think Pond just liked cars, but around the third time they met, he knew it was more about Pond’s way to care was just offering acts of service. It’s always been this way, he realizes—Pond taking care of him. Whether it’s driving, planning their nights, or the way Pond instinctively knows how to guide him in bed, making Phuwin feel safe and wanted in ways he’s never experienced before. He’s never actually told Pond how new this all was for him—how Pond was the first man he’d ever been with. But he has a feeling Pond must know, his inexperience probably making itself known in the first few times they slept together. 

He remembers the exact moment everything changed: scrolling through his dating app, more out of boredom than genuine intention. Then, he saw him. 

Pond’s face beamed back at him, eyes as energetic and wild as the blurry golden retriever in his arms, both grinning at the camera even as the puppy seemed caught in the middle of a zoomie frenzy, its tongue lolling out. At first, Phuwin was surprised a man appeared on his timeline at all, but then he noticed the little star icon—the one that meant Pond had “superliked” him. If a man was willing to waste his one superlike on Phuwin, he figured, he could entertain him too.

Back then, Phuwin didn’t even know he was queer, but there was no hesitation or discomfort—nothing like what he might’ve expected. Maybe all the time spent learning about his gay younger brother had prepared him in ways he hadn’t realized. With Pond, there was only... curiosity. A pull he couldn’t explain.

He swiped right.

And now, here they were: Pond driving him to a place Phuwin had never shared with anyone but his family and the team who designed his interiors. A man who had somehow burrowed himself, giant limbs and all, into Phuwin’s heart.

Phuwin glanced at Pond, the dim streetlights outside casting fleeting shadows across his face again, now that they were on the main street. The sharp angles of his jawline, the slight furrow of concentration as he grippedthe steering wheel, the effortless cool of his leather jacket, and the soft hum of his voice mingling with the radio—everything about him made Phuwin’s chest feel restless but warm.

He doesn’t even know how much he means to me . Phuwin sighed, overwhelmed by the surge of emotions that bubbled up all at once. He stole another glance at Pond, and just as their eyes met, Pond flashed him a quick wink, eyes back on the road. Then, with casual ease, he reached out and brought Phuwin’s hand closer, placing a brief kiss on Phuwin’s hand, the warmth of his lips lingering.

The memory of their last time in this very car flickered to life, the phantom sensation of Pond’s hands gripping his hips and lips mouthing against his clavicle as he brought Phuwin to his release, the flashes from that night stirred something deep within him. Without thinking, Phuwin let his hand fall onto Pond’s thigh, at first casual, but then his fingers began inching higher.

Oh… Pond stopped humming, catching onto the tension shifting His knuckles tightened around the steering wheel, and his head snapped toward Phuwin.

“Phu… what are you doing?” he gasped, voice tight with warning, when Phuwin’s index finger brushed against him, his body betraying his words with a shiver.

Phuwin shrugged nonchalantly, his fingers continuing their exploration, the deliberate yet featherlight touches just enough to drive Pond wild. “Nothing,” Phuwin mumbled absently, his tone deceptively casual, as if he hadn’t proceeded to mould his palm over Pond’s hardening member, trying to feel out the familiar shape. 

Phuwin’s pulse quickened, but there was a flicker of doubt—should he pull away, or did Pond feel the same pull? His fingers lingered, betraying his thoughts. His worries were squashed when he felt the speed at which his palm was getting the desired results, the way Pond was filling up. Maybe there’s more to Pond’s kinks that Phuwin hasn’t been privy to.

Pond’s hips jerked slightly, shaking his out of his thoughts, his breathing shallow as the car approached a red light. The temporary pause offered no relief—Phuwin’s palm pressed down sharply, his fingers applying a teasing amount of pressure right at the where he throbbed.

Pond let out a hiss, his head falling back against the seat. His cheeks flushed a deep pink, panting, willing his eyes open when he realised he could hear the motorbike right outside. Pond’s lips parted slightly, and his hands gripped the steering wheel so harshly that his knuckles turned white.

Phuwin leaned closer, nearly over the centre console at this point, his voice dropping into a low whisper. “I want to...”

Pond’s eyes flickered open, he didn’t realise they had shut on him again, looking into glassy eyes, dark with barely contained desire. “Someone’s going to see us…” he murmured, though his gaze betrayed him as it dropped to Phuwin’s lips. He swallowed hard before muttering, “Fuck it–ungh–c’mere.”

Phuwin didn’t need to be told twice. He leaned across the console in a flash, capturing Pond’s lips in a kiss that was all teeth and heat. It was messy, frantic, their tongues clashing between gasping breaths. Pond groaned into the kiss, his composure unraveling as Phuwin’s hand continued its relentless ministrations, growing confident.

The sharp blare of a horn startled them both. Pond cursed under his breath, his lips slick and swollen as he tore his gaze from Phuwin, to the now green light. His chest rose and fell with each heavy breath, but just as he pressed on the gas, Phuwin’s fingers were back at work, more determined than ever.

“Phu—” Pond’s voice faltered as he felt nimble fingers tugging at the button of his jeans, the sound of the zipper being drawn down echoing in the close confines of the car.

“Eyes on the road,” Phuwin teased, his voice dipped in playful heat, but there was nothing casual about the way his hand moved, slow and deliberate.

Pond’s head tilted back for a moment, eyes still somehow on the road, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed hard, before he forced himself to focus. He couldn’t. 

The car jerked forward as he hastily pulled away from the intersection, though his movements were anything but smooth. “Phuwin,” Pond ground out, his voice strained. “You’re gonna get us killed.”

Phuwin chuckled softly, leaning in close enough that his breath tickled the shell of Pond’s ear. “Then pull over because I don’t think you want me to stop.”

What was left of Pond’s resolve shattered. He turned into what looked like a quieter side street, his breathing ragged as he threw the car into park. As soon as the thrum of the engine grew softer, Phuwin was on him again, desperate lips pressing insistently to his, hands continuing their exploration.

Pond deepened the kiss, now finally as urgent as he felt all this time, Pond’s fingers tangling in Phuwin’s hair and giving it a harsh tug as a groan rumbled in his chest. The leather of the seat creaked beneath them, the air thick with the sound of panting breaths and the faint hum of the engine.

Phuwin’s lips trailed down Pond’s jawline, nipping at the sensitive skin below his ear before whispering, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you like this.” His voice was teasing, but there was a softness beneath it—a quiet awe at Pond’s unraveling.

Pond let out a shaky laugh, his head falling back against the seat again, he didn’t know what to do to show Phuwin all the ways he made his brain short circuit. 

“You’ve actually driven me crazy, don’t you know that?”

Phuwin tilted his head, his lips quirking up in a sly grin. “I’ll be gentle,” he teased, though his hand wrapped around Pond with firm intent, no layers between them.

The first stroke was slow, torturous in its restraint, the near dry friction of it sending a jolt through Pond’s entire body. A broken groan escaped his lips, his eyes squeezing shut as he leaned back, completely at Phuwin’s mercy, thigh twitching.

“Fuck,” Pond hissed, his voice strained as Phuwin circled his palm over the leaking tip, picking up a rhythm that went with the beats of the drums playing on the radio, his movements relentless. 

The confined space of the car made every sound louder—the thrum of the music on low, the rustle of clothing, the sharp intakes of breath, the faint creak of leather, all as Pond’s body tensed beneath Phuwin’s touch.

Phuwin couldn’t look away. The sight of Pond unraveling—the way his lips parted, his brows furrowed, nose scrunched, his chest rising and falling with each shaky breath—was intoxicating.

“You’re so beautiful like this,” Phuwin said softly, his words barely more than a whisper.

Pond opened his eyes then, hazy and half-lidded, but there was something raw in his gaze as he looked at Phuwin. “You are-,” he began, but Phuwin chose that moment to twist his hand as it came to the head of his member, now slick with enough precome to make the squelching sounds add to the tension in the vehicle. Pond took a deep breath in. 

“You are crazy for doing this, Phu.” It didn’t seem like what Pond actually wanted to say, but Phuwin understood. 

Phuwin leaned closer, his free hand brushing Pond’s cheek. “Maybe,” he admitted, his thumb swiping over Pond’s bottom lip, still swollen from their kiss. “But you like it.”

Pond didn’t argue. He couldn’t, not when Phuwin’s hand was driving him to the edge, each stroke pulling a new sound from his throat. He simply put his trembling hand at the nape of Phuwin’s neck and pulled him into a kiss. It was more a series of harsh pecks, unable to manage more, so Pons just tilted his head back, the cords of his neck standing out as he let himself sink into the sensation, the heat pooling low in his stomach threatening to overwhelm him.

Pond was a moaning mess, babbling Phuwins name littered around curses, the hand on his own thigh clawing harshly. Phuwin’s strokes grew faster, following the desperation in Pond’s voice, more confident, the slickness of his movements matched by the growing urgency in Pond’s gasps.

“Phu… baby…” Pond’s voice cracked, barely audible, his hands scrabbling for purchase on the wheel and his thigh and the seat—anything to keep him grounded. He was close, so close, and they were outside , the realization only heightened the tension coiling inside him.

Phuwin chose that moment to lean down completely, giving no warning before his mouth enveloped the head. Pond’s shout reverberated in the confined space of the car, drowning out the murmur of passing vehicles not too far from them. His back arched involuntarily, his hips jerking forward as Phuwin’s hand continued its relentless rhythm, meeting his mouth in the middle.

The hot, wet slide of Phuwin’s tongue teased mercilessly, swirling right against the slit, contrasting with the firm strokes of his fingers. It was maddening, the way his touch was balanced precision and chaos, as if he knew exactly what Pond needed before Pond himself did.

“Oh God, Oh Phu,” Pond gasped, his right hand trembling as it left the wheel, tangling in Phuwin’s ruined hair, his fingers tugging at the strands and pushing him lower, driven by an overwhelming need to claim this moment and the man at its center.

Phuwin hummed around him, the vibrations shooting up Pond’s spine, drawing a broken groan of Phuwin’s name from his lips. His hips bucked again, but Phuwin just took him deeper, the snug heat of his mouth utterly consuming.

Pond could barely think, the mix of sensations overwhelming. The slick, obscene sounds of Phuwin’s mouth echoed in the car, blending with the quiet hum of the air conditioning. His gaze flickered open, landing on the street beyond the windshield. The headlights of passing cars blurred into streaks of light, the reality of where they were contrasting starkly with the intimacy of Phuwin’s ministrations.

The way Phuwin’s mouth burned hot around him, the wet glide of his tongue against his most sensitive spots. It was too much. A strangled moan tore from his throat as he tipped over the edge, the tension in his body snapping like a taut string.

Phuwin groaned low in his throat, swallowing him down, his hands steady even as Pond trembled. He didn’t stop until he had licked him clean, his tongue slow and deliberate, drawing out every last sensation.

Pond’s breath came in ragged gasps, his chest heaving. “Stop,” he choked out, tugging weakly at Phuwin’s hair. His body was oversensitive, jerking with each brush of Phuwin’s tongue. Finally, Phuwin relented, sitting up with a low whine, as if parting hurt him physically.

The sight of him stole the breath from Pond’s already burning lungs. Phuwin’s lips were red and swollen, a faint sheen glistening on his chin. His hair was a mess, tousled from Pond’s frantic grip, and his dark eyes were heavy with heat, but there was something else there—something soft, almost reverent.

In that moment, Pond felt his chest tighten in a way that had nothing to do with the physical aftershocks. He was completely undone by this man, his perfect contradictions—calm yet bold, refined yet wild. 

Phuwin wasn’t just beautiful; he was devastating. And Pond knew, without a doubt, that he was falling deeper than he’d ever thought possible.

The spell broke as Phuwin shifted in his seat, under the piercing eyes of the director. “We should… get going,” Phuwin murmured, his voice lower than usual, almost shy.

Pond nodded, choosing to not comment on where Phuwin’s bravado from minutes ago had gone, forcing his gaze back to the road. He put himself back in his pants, taking that time to also ground himself back to the moment. His hands were still trembling as they gripped the wheel, his heart hammering in his chest, but he felt more centered now. 

“Right,” he said then, though his voice was rough, unsteady, mostly to himself.

Pond drove with singular focus, following the GPS with a kind of urgency that bordered on reckless . He had one goal in mind for tonight, and that was to show Phuwin just how much he means to him, in whatever way he will have him. If Phuwin wants to only see him as someone he sleeps with, then he will make sure he pours his love and affection into every touch.

Phuwin sat beside him, his hands fidgeting slightly, body squirming, knowing what was about to happen. The tension in his body mirrored in the way his lips pressed together. The anticipation between them was electric, crackling in the air like a storm about to break.

When they finally pulled into the driveway, Pond barely waited for the engine to stop before he was flying out of the car and opening the door for Phuwin. This was the exact reason why he was born with such big limbs, he confirmed, for before Phuwin even picked up his phone from the console, Pond had his door open and unbuckling his seatbelt. Pond chose the closeness to land a quick kiss, immediately going back for another where he tugged on Phuwin’s swollen upper lip, almost like he couldnt help it.

Phuwin gasped at the urgency, the ten minute ride having done anything to soothe either of their libido. He fumbled with the keys, his fingers shaking as he unlocked the door, the faint click of the lock echoing in the still night air. They barely made it inside before Pond was on him, his lips finding the curve of Phuwin’s neck, pushing his collar lower. He started leaving nips and kisses with a ferocity that left no room for hesitation, his hands gripping Phuwin’s waist as he pressed him against the wall. Phuwin gasped, his head tilting back to give Pond more access, his hands clutching at Pond’s shoulders for support, nails digging in.

“Bedroom,” Pond muttered against his skin, his voice akin to a growl.

Phuwin nodded, his breath stuttering as he led the way, his steps hurried and unsteady. Pond was relentless, walking as one unit, his lips and teeth marking a trail down Phuwin’s neck, leaving faint bruises in their wake he knew would disappear come morning. By the time they reached the bedroom door, Phuwin was trembling, his knees threatening to give out.

The door swung open, banging into the wall with the force of it, and Pond guided Phuwin inside, the room a blur as they crossed the threshold. Pond didn’t even get a chance to take in his surroundings before Phuwin had him pinned against the nearest surface now, his hands already tugging off Pond’s jacket and tugging at his tshirt.

“Pond—” Phuwin’s protest was cut off by the press of Pond’s lips, a kiss that was all-consuming. Pond kissed him like he always did—with understanding, with need, as if he could read every unspoken word Phuwin kept locked inside. They quickly began working at shedding Pond’s layers, till he was just in his briefs, helping Phuwin take his tie and shirt off too.

It took a moment for Phuwin to re-focus and when he did, he held onto Pond’s wrist, the hand that was busy pushing the tie aside to open the seemingly neverending buttons of the now untucked shirt. 

Pond’s breath hitched as Phuwin’s hands settled against his chest, firm but tender, gently urging him back. The subtle pressure was enough to make him pause, his eyes never leaving Phuwin’s. His heart raced, his lips slightly swollen from the intensity of their kiss, but it was the look in Phuwin’s eyes that truly caught him off guard—searching, uncertain, but brimming with something deeper.

“I want to try something,” Phuwin murmured, his voice soft but steady, looking at their shadows on the wall beside Pond instead.

Pond’s gaze didn’t waver, , his fingers lightly caressing Phuwin’s chin, guiding his gaze back to him. And in that moment, as their eyes locked, something unspoken passed between them. There was a quiet promise there in Pond’s gaze, a readiness to give himself over, to trust. The weight of it made Phuwin’s pulse skip, and his chest tightened in a way he wasn’t sure how to process. It was a devotion he hadn’t expected, a tenderness that reached straight into his core, that made Phuwin want to run and let out a scream off the rooftops.

Pond gave a small nod, adding a verbal confirmation. “Okay.”

Phuwin exhaled slowly, his lips curving into a faint smile, Pond didn’t even ask what Phuwin had in mind. Good, because Phuwin didn’t know how he could explain what came next either .

Taking Pond’s hand, he led him toward the bed. The quiet rustle of their movements filled the space between them, the soft sound of fabric shifting, the steady beat of their hearts filling the silence. Phuwin undressed quickly, the sound of his clothes falling to the floor soft but heavy in the still air. He places the tie on the bed. 

Without hesitation, Pond sank down onto the mattress, his body yielding under Phuwin’s touch, his eyes locking with Phuwin’s as the tension between them thickened. Phuwin stripped off his boxers, the movement slow, deliberate. Pond’s hand reached for the member in front of him on muscle memory alone, Phuwin’s eyes fluttering at the urgency of it. Pond barely a tentative tug in when Phuwin hissed, a shiver running through him as his grip found Pond’s jaw.

Phuwin’s eyes were half-lidded, his breath shaky as he gazed down at Pond. “Lie back,” he commanded, his voice steady, carrying a confidence he hadn’t known he possessed. Pond’s gaze never left Phuwin’s as he stretched out on the bed, his movements slow and purposeful. The mattress creaked softly beneath him, a quiet reminder of the intimacy unfolding in the dimly lit room.

Phuwin climbed over him with purpose, his knees pressing into the mattress on either side of Pond’s hips. Phuwin’s bareness hovered over the final layer on Pond, but the moment was charged enough for him to still feel the warmth caught between them.Pond’s lips parted slightly, as if to say something, but Phuwin silenced him with a gentle finger against his mouth. He slid it across Pond’s lower lip, tugging it down softly before releasing it.

“Don’t move, just let me…” Phuwin whispered, his voice low but firm. The command and what promise it held, sent a visible shiver through Pond. His throat bobbing as he swallowed, his hands twitching at his sides—a reflex he quickly stilled, a silent offering of trust that made Phuwin’s chest tighten.

Phuwin leaned down, slowly, his palms cupping Pond’s face, the warmth of his skin permeating through his fingertips. His thumbs brushed over the flushed cheekbones, he loved how Pond already seemed so out of it, thruming and waiting for Phuwin to do whatever he had in mind.

Their eyes met briefly before Phuwin closed the distance, his lips pressing softly against Pond’s. The kiss was slow and deliberate, the kind that lingered long after it ended. There was no rush, only the soft, unspoken need to savor every inch of contact, every breath shared.

Phuwin hesitantly pulled away, immediately kissing the corner of his mouth when Pond let out a low, barely audible whine. His lips began to feather kisses, trailing downwards. As Phuwin began to trail kisses down Pond’s jaw, his lips left a faint, tingling warmth in their wake. The sharp line of Pond’s jaw felt solid beneath his mouth, and the faint stubble scratched deliciously against his lips. He loved the feeling of how the stubble would often make Phuwin’s lips feel sore and sensitive, always ignited, or maybe it was just how one felt kissing Pond. 

He moved lower, his breath warm against the curve of Pond’s neck, where he could feel the steady thrum of his pulse beneath his lips. He could feel the thin sheen of sweat coating the region, making him take some of it in his mouth and nibble lightly. Pond arched his back, every touch already making him leak in his grey briefs, never hiding how much their intimacy always affected him.

“You always take such good care of me,” Phuwin murmured against Pond’s skin, each word pressed into his skin, a kiss from one side of his neck to the other, like a choker woven with warmth and care. His lips lingered on Pond’s collarbone, pressing the sentiment into him like he was branding him with them.

“Let me take care of you.”

Pond’s took a deep breath as the words sunk in and took shape, swirling down his spine to where a considerable amount of his sanity had rushed to. His chest was rising and falling in shallow pants as Phuwin continued his path downward. 

The salty tang of Pond’s skin filled Phuwin’s senses, grounding him. His hands found the hem of Pond’s briefs, slipping underneath the hem in a teasing, fevered touch, then going up to his sternum again, where Phuwin was mouthing at, consciously ignoring the perked up nips. 

Phuwin’s lips found their way to Pond’s clavicle, appreciative of the curve of muscles quivering under his lips, something about how this strong and built man grew putty with just Phuwin’s lips on him brought in a heady feeling, Phuwin’s kisses grew wetter at the realisation, salivating. 

When he finally was close enough to the areola, he gave the bud another nip, making Pond’s harsh pant dissolve into a low moan, hands twitching—to either cover himself up or to push Phuwin closer, he couldn’t tell—but slamming them back on the bed immediately.

Phuwin pulled away, swirling the pointed tip of his tongue over one hardened nipple, eliciting a shaky groan from Pond. The sound sent a thrill through Phuwin, his heart pounding as he moved to the other, giving it equal attention, a teasing flick of the tongue. Phuwin looked up then, Pond’s eyes were closed already, no way of knowing what was coming next. 

When both of Phuwin’s hands found the nipples, index fingers rubbing against both protrusions at the same time, Pond’s head had pushed back against the pillows, his throat exposed, the tendons in his neck standing out as he clenched his jaw, trying to keep still. His hands fisted the sheets beneath him, the strain visible in the tightness of his knuckles.

Phuwin’s hands roamed freely now, sliding down the planes of Pond’s torso, his fingers tracing the ridges of his muscles with reverence. His lips followed, pressing kisses into every inch of skin as though committing Pond’s body to memory. The dips of his abdomen, the sharp curve of his hip bones—nothing was left untouched. 

Every movement, every kiss, was a silent confession. Phuwin’s love for Pond poured out through his actions, the words he couldn’t bring himself to say etched into every lingering touch, every brush of his lips.

Pond’s breaths grew heavier, each exhale trembling as the tension between them mounted. The air felt thick, electric, every soft sigh amplifying the need between them. Phuwin’s kisses grew more desperate after some time, his hands tightening on his arms slightly as if trying to hold onto the moment, to hold onto Pond. The pressure of his hands and lips were all Pond could receive, and the thought of how unreal the sensation of having Phuwin’s body gliding against his usually feels, makes Pond’s eyes blur.

Finally, Pond’s restraint broke. His hands flew up, wanting to grip Phuwin’s arms, taking a detour at the last moment and grabbing onto fistfuls of his own hair. 

“Phuwin,” Pond rasped, his voice raw with desperation. “Please. Let me touch you.”

Phuwin froze for a moment, the sound of Pond begging igniting something deep within him. A low moan escaped his own lips, his resolve wavering. He looked down at Pond, the tremor in the hands painfully grabbing at his own hair, he looked wild, staring up at him with wide, pleading eyes, his arms flexing but staying where they are, as if afraid to move without permission.

“Okay,” Phuwin whispered, finally, his voice trembling with emotion.

Pond’s hands immediately reached out to hold Phuwin, and he prepared himself to be whipped around and for Pond to take over, but it never came.

Instead, Pond’s fingers reached Phuwin’s cheek in a soft caress, a sharp contrast to how hard he was gripping his own hair, and Phuwin melted into the brush against his jaw. Pond caught him as he melted, letting him lower himself into the hold, lips meeting and moulding together, taking shape of something they have always dodged around, muted confessions hidden behind crinkled eyes and soft smiles, now coming forth in the way they fused together, as if they never existed as anything but as they were tonight, in this moment lost in time.

Pond shifted then, quickly peeling off the last layer between them, leaving himself bare, still not leaving Phuwin’s lips. The cool air against Pond’s skin was a sharp contrast to the heat radiating between them.

Phuwin attempted to part from Pond’s lips, who retaliated by moving up to nip Phuwin’s lips back to where they belonged, right between his, and it was like it flicked the switch between them. Pond’s hands immediately found his hips, pulling him down until Phuwin was seated in his lap, their bodies pressed together, making Phuwin moan into Pond’s mouth, loud and unabashed, “Mmmh, Pond, pl-please…”

Pond takes it all in hungrily. His fingers slid lower, tracing light patterns on the soft skin of his thigh, a teasingly light touch, making the man above him tremble slightly. 

When Pond brushed his dry finger at Phuwin’s entrance, Phuwin immediately took action. He heaved and adjusted himself, using all of his left over energy to lunge to the bedside table. The angle gave Pond direct access to Phuwin’s chest parallel to his face, and before either of them could register it, Pond licked a fat stripe across the nub. 

Phuwin shook, hand shaking at the handle of his drawer, gripping it tightly at Pond’s merciless movements. He licked till the nub hardened, sharp tongue flicking it and reaching up till he could envelop his mouth around it. Phuwin whined, not sure if he was complaining or wanting him to continue, now with Pond dutifully licking and sucking one in while his fingers teasing and pinched at the other.

Soon, nudged back into action when Pond’s finger pushed against his entrance in mock impatience, he managed to find the lube and nearly throw it on Pond’s face who, as if knowing he would have to stop soon, doubled his efforts on the now sore and blemished chest before Phuwin could pull away. 

Phuwin placed his hands on Pond’s shoulders, trying to push himself up and away from the offending mouth, but it only made him thrust his back right onto the twitching member beneath him, placing it right into the cleft of his ass. He could feel how wet the head was already. 

Oh… he needed that in him. 

“Pond… Please,” Phuwin whined, finding himself not being able to say much else, and maybe he was too busy begging to notice, when a long lubed up finger was nudging against him. 

“Look at me, Phuwin,” Phuwin’s eyes fluttered open at the gruffness of Pond’s voice, biting his lip as he looked down into those eyes again, just as the prodding finger finally situated itself completely inside him.

Even after all this time, Pond’s fingers always made him writhe in desperation, his eyes fluttered but he fought it, meeting Pond’s piercing gaze. 

Pond didn’t want to tease any longer, not with how fervent his man looked, not with the sounds Phuwin was making. He hesitated for a moment, the finger now finding a rhythm, his eyes searching Phuwin’s for any sign of unease. He found none, he never did.

Gradually, more of Pond’s fingers pressed inside, the intrusion deliberate and tender, drawing strangled gasps and deep, shuddering whines from Phuwin. His hands clutched at Pond’s shoulders, nails clawing at his skin as his head dipped forward, muscles straining, overwhelmed by the sensation coursing through him. Everytime he caught himself, he would whip his head up to continue looking at Pond. He wanted to give him a clear view of how much Pond was able to pleasure him. Especially after how obedient Pond had been for his instruction.

Phuwin could feel Pond’s meticulous care in avoiding his prostate, all his thrusts giving him the burn he enjoyed without any nerves being ignited from it. It was tortuous, but with the way his arousal had already dribbled onto Pond’s hip, he was grateful. 

But that restraint only heightened his desperation. 

A low groan escaped his lips as he shifted slightly, bracing himself on trembling elbows, hands shaking under how much weight they carried. The new angle brought their breaths close enough to mingle, their heat pressing against each other. It was unintentional, but as Pond’s fingers curled deeper with the angle changed, the fingers brushed against that spot, finally sending white-hot jolt through Phuwin’s body. 

“Pond,” he gasped, the name breaking free in a loud, unrestrained moan. 

The sound, echoing around them, seemed to snap something in as their lips collided in a frantic, messy kiss. It was more heat than finesse, a melding of need that left them breathless. Pond’s fingers kept thrusting at the same spot now, and Phuwin could not kiss back any longer. They lingered in that moment, their foreheads touching, savoring the raw intimacy that bound them tighter. 

But the stillness didn’t last long. 

Phuwin began to move, hips rolling into the rhythm that his body craved, finally giving in. The pressure, the friction—it was all-consuming, a fire licking at the edges of his control as Pond worked him open with firm, unwavering attention.

Phuwin sat up again, his hands wandering, sliding down to Pond’s chest, fingers splaying across the firm expanse as though to ground himself. His movements grew more insistent, each thrust and roll of his body a plea for more, for closer, for everything Pond could give. 

The heat between them threatened to engulf them both, pulling them deeper into each other’s orbit.

“Pond…” Phuwin whispered this time, softer but no less urgent, his voice trembling with the weight of everything he couldn’t put into words.

Pond’s breath hitched at the sound of his name, carrying a vulnerability that sent a sharp ache through his chest. His free hand slid up Phuwin’s back, fingers tracing the curve of his spine, grounding him in the moment.

“You’re doing so well,” Pond murmured, his voice low and steady, a stark contrast to the wild heat between them. The hand at his nape gently lulled him forward and his lips brushed Phuwin’s temple, a fleeting, tender gesture amidst the chaos.

Phuwin shivered, the praise threading through the haze of sensation clouding his mind. He pressed closer, their bodies locking together in another dance that felt as endless as it was fleeting. 

Just like at the dance floor, the rhythm they found now wasn’t perfect—it faltered and stumbled with the urgency of their need—but it was real, and it was theirs .

“Bab-, Pond, I—” Phuwin babbled, his words cutting off with a choked cry as Pond’s fingers curled just so , hitting the spot deliciously. His whole body arched, his head lolling to the side, exposing the graceful curve of his neck. Pond took the opportunity, leaning in to kiss and nip at the sensitive skin, drawing soft gasps and helpless whimpers from Phuwin.

Phuwin’s hands slid up to cradle Pond’s face, his thumbs brushing over his cheekbones as though he needed to feel the flush on his cheeks, hands moving lower shakily to feel every part of him. 

“I can’t… I’m close,” he admitted, the words tumbling out between ragged breaths, his voice thick with desperation.

Pond’s fingers stilled for a moment at Phuwin’s words, his eyes softening as he held Phuwin’s gaze as they continued their glide. “Let go,” Pond urged gently, his tone full of reassurance. “I’ve got you.”

Phuwin shook his head, his cheeks flushed and his breathing uneven. “Not like this,” he whispered, his voice trembling but determined, he placed his palms flat on Pond’s chest again.

“I want… I need to be the one t-to take care–-unggh—to take care of you this time.”

Pond blinked in surprise, his brows furrowing slightly, but then he nodded, he could tell this was important to Phuwin, for him to say this now, for how he would usually be rendered speechless whenever they would fuck. His fingers slowly slid out, tugging at the opening one last time, as if it was physically challenging to part from the warmth, making Phuwin slap his chest with a flush high on his cheeks. His hands slid to rest on Phuwin’s hip, steadying him. 

“Whatever you want,” he said softly, assuring, “You can do whatever you want,” his words carried no questions, no judgement—only understanding.

Phuwin pushed himself up, shakily tearing the wrapper till Pond helped him, rolling the condom on himself, making sure he didnt give into his own urges and tug some of the tension off of his cock. He didn’t know how long he could last with Phuwin sitting on him like that, looking down at him like he was to be worshipped. Phuwin’s hands went back to brace themselves on Pond below his ribcage as he adjusted, his legs still straddling Pond’s hips. When Pond looked up to see if Phuwin seemed comfortable, the vulnerability in Phuwin’s face that looked back at him, the expression mixed with something resolute, Pond could feel his heart tighten in response.

“This isn’t just for me, it’s never been just for me,” Phuwin murmured, his fingers curling against the muscles, lightly clawing along Pond’s skin, grounding himself. “It’s for you. To show you how much you mean to me.”

Pond’s lips parted, but no words came out. 

Instead, he reached up to cup Phuwin’s face, his thumb brushing along the curve of his jaw. “You don’t have to prove anyth-“

Phuwin did not wait for Pond’s warm words, even though he yearned to hear them, for his hand finally reached out and held Pond up, aligning himself and slowly sinking down. As much as he wanted to just slam down much like the graphic novels he often read, he had to take his time, adjusting to the stretch as his body accommodated all of Pond, both physically and emotionally. Even though he was the first man he had slept with, he knew Pond was bigger than most. It shouldn’t have been a surprise with how proportionate it is to his body. 

Phuwin let out a shaky exhale, his hands gripping Pond wherever he could for balance as he settled.

Pond’s hands tightened on Phuwin’s hips, holding him steady, trying to not buck up into the heat, letting him set the pace. Phuwin let out a garbled moan at the thought of waking up and seeing bruised hips in the mirror. 

Pond groaned, in all the times they had slept together, and all the surfaces they had sullied, Phuwin had never done this, he had never taken charge beyond teasing Pond to the point of pushing him against a surface and having his way with him. Honestly, it worked out for them quite well. Pond had almost gotten used to it. 

So now, with this godly vision towering above him, Pond’s gaze never wavered, locked on Phuwin’s face as if committing every fleeting expression to memory. 

“You’re perfect,” Pond said, his voice rough with emotion. Phuwin’s laugh was breathless, his cheeks tinged red. 

“You’re just saying that because—” He cut himself off with a soft gasp as he shifted, the angle sending a spark of pleasure through his body.

“I mean it,” Pond murmured, his fingers flexing against Phuwin’s skin, grounding him.

Phuwin began to move, finding his rhythm in slow, deliberate motions, each roll of his hips a silent promise. This wasn’t about desperation—it was about intimacy, about showing Pond what he couldn’t put into words. With every shift, every sound he made, Phuwin poured himself into the moment, hoping Pond could feel the depth of his emotions. 

Pond twitched under him, his control fraying as the pace grew more insistent. But he didn’t rush Phuwin, didn’t take over. Instead, he let Phuwin lead, his hands guiding but never forcing. He watched as Phuwin’s muscles rippled under his panting movements, the pelvic muscles quivering with giving into his wants, a sheen of sweat making him look otherworldly. 

“You’re incredible,” Pond whispered, the words spilling out unbidden. Phuwin is usually the first to roll his eyes or slap his arm when complimented, but this moment was too charged for him to brush Pond’s words away. 

Phuwin smiled down at him, his expression soft but tinged with something fierce, something unyielding. “You make me feel that way,” Phuwin replied, his voice shaking with honesty and with how close he was to his orgasm, every word accompanied by slamming himself down, the slap of it echoing between them.  Phuwin’s movements faltered slightly, breathy moans following every movement, his body trembling, but he didn’t stop, his focus on Pond unwavering.

“Phuwin,” Pond groaned, his grip tightening as his restraint slipped further, his hips having a mind of their own as they began hitching upwards, meeting Phuwin’s thrusts. 

Pond was close. 

Phuwin could tell, so moved with determination now, his pace deliberate and focused, his body a vessel for everything he wanted to give to Pond. He could feel the tension building beneath his fingertips, the way Pond’s grip on his hips tightened on the edge of painful, the faint tremor in his voice as he let out a series of low, broken moans, the way he had properly begun thrusting up, jostling the man above him with desperate movements.

“Phuwin,” Pond groaned again, his head falling back against the pillow, his control unraveling with every roll of Phuwin’s hips. “Come with me…” He placed his feet on the mattress for leverage, holding Phuwin up as he fucked upwards into the tightness. 

Phuwin bit his lip, the way he was being used sending a flurry of heat coursing through this entire being, his own release perilously close, surprised by how much he enjoyed the idea when it was under Pond’s ministrations. Phuwin held onto his own release, his movements steadying, his focus entirely on Pond. 

“Not yet,” he murmured, voice strained. “I– You. First,” Phuwin babbled on, hoping he got the message across. Pond’s eyes opened then, glazed and dark with pleasure, locking onto Phuwin’s who let out a moan just at the intensity of the eye contact,

“No, why do you—”

“I do,” Phuwin interrupted, a soft, breathless whine escaping his swollen lips. “For you.”

The vulnerability in his voice made Pond’s chest ache, he had never experienced this, feeling so much in his heart while he was having sex. Especially when it was this good. Then the way Phuwin clenched around him made his back arch up, all other thoughts dissipating, thrusts thundering as he moved closer to his release. 

Pond’s heart that had swelled up at the words, paired with the affection in Phuwin’s voice undoing him, made him want to burst at the seams, not just with the impending orgasm. The echos of his own feelings in the way Phuwin was treating him made his own pace falter only slightly before he found his rhythm again, trying to work Phuwin closer to the edge too, making Phuwin jump on him with the intensity of his thrusts.

His breaths grew uneven, his body spasming beneath Phuwin, the tension finally snapping as a deep, guttural groan tore from his throat. His grip on Phuwin’s hips tightened again, as his release consumed him, his body trembling with the force of it.

The sight, the sound, the feel of the fingers definitely bruising his hips and thighs, the way Pond whispered his name like a prayer—all of it overwhelmed Phuwin. He let out a loud garbled cry of his own, his own body giving in to the storm as he followed, the pleasure crashing over him in waves after waves over Pond’s chest and one reaching all the way to his neck, untouched. Phuwin would’ve registered how he just came without being touched, if he wasn’t so close to floating off. He collapsed forward, his forehead resting against Pond’s chest as they both tried to catch their breath.

Pond’s hands slid up to cradle Phuwin’s face, his eyes searching, full of wonder. “You…” he murmured, his voice hoarse but gentle, shaking his head in disbelief.

Phuwin smiled faintly, his thumb brushing against Pond’s jaw as he repeated, softly, “You.”

Pond laughed under his breath, shaking his head as he pulled Phuwin closer, their noses brushing as they caught their breath, ignoring the stickiness between them. 

“What even was that?!”

“Told you, you should’ve asked me on that date sooner,” Phuwin whispered back. 

Pond’s thumb brushed along Phuwin’s cheek, as he slowly pulled out, his other hand tracing idle circles on his hip in apology for the sensitivity Phuwin usually feels post orgasm, letting him softly fall to his side.

“Not that I’m complaining,” Pond began, his voice warm with affection, making quick work of disposing the tied condom and bouncing back in bed, “but why’d you make it all about me tonight? What was going on in that pretty little head of yours?”

Phuwin, from where he was letting himself stretch on the bed, let out a soft laugh. “Maybe I just like seeing you fall apart for me. Your face? Completely wrecked. Your body? Completely mine.”

Pond groaned, shaking his head, but the flush on his cheeks betrayed him. “You’re really leaning into this, huh?”

Phuwin’s smile only widened as Pond shifted closer, lying down, and manoeuvred them so they were facing each other. Phuwin laid his head on Pond’s folded arm. 

“Not my fault you’re so easy to ruin.”

Pond gave him a playful glare, his free hand tightening on the curve of Phuwin’s waist as he leaned in closer. “Careful,” he warned lightly. “You’re going to regret that.”

“Oh?” Phuwin teased, raising an eyebrow. “Big words from someone who’s barely recovered.”

Pond’s grin turned sharper, a flicker of mischief in his eyes. “You’re asking for it now.”

Phuwin chuckled but then tilted his head, feigning thoughtfulness. “Actually,” he said slowly, his grin taking on a sly edge as he jutted his chin to his side, “I brought the tie just in case you decided to get disobedient.”

Pond froze for a second, his expression shifting as his gaze locked on Phuwin’s. The teasing grin slipped from his face, replaced by something darker, more intent. “The tie?” he echoed, his voice low and deliberate.

Phuwin’s confidence wavered for a beat, heat rushing to his face. “Not that we have to use it,” he added quickly, trying to brush it off. “It’s just… well, I thought it could be fun.”

Pond hummed, the sound deep and thoughtful, as his hand slid up to cradle the back of Phuwin’s neck, slowly placing it on the pillow from where it was on his arm, “What kind of fun are we talking about?”

Phuwin swallowed hard, seeing how Pond was slowly pulling away, his bravado faltering under Pond’s gaze, watching him shuffle out of bed. 

“You know,” he murmured, his voice quieter now, “Not sure it was a good idea anymore.”

“Oh, I think it was a great idea,” Pond said then, his grin sly as he stood up, bending forward and brushing his thumb along Phuwin’s jaw. “And you know what they say, the night is still young.”

Before Phuwin could respond, the wind was knocked out of him as Pond slid his hands under Phuwin, heaving him up effortlessly into his arms.

“Pond!” Phuwin yelped, wrapping his arms around Pond’s neck as he was picked up, feeling the muscles strain against his side.

“What are you doing ?”

Pond looked down at him with a mischievous grin, “What?” his tone casual but full of promise. “I want to wash up but don’t want to stop our very fun conversation yet, especially when we have the props handy.”

Phuwin groaned, burying his face in Pond’s shoulder, though his muffled laugh gave him away. “You’re so annoying.”

“Maybe,” Pond replied, his grin widening. “But you are a sucker for it anyway.”

“Unfortunately,” Phuwin shot back, his voice tinged with affection.

As Pond carried him toward the next room, with Phuwin yelling ‘that’s not the way to the bathtub’, their playful banter hung in the air, light and teasing, now holding promise for more. 

_______

The next day, Gemini doesn’t show up for work.

At first, it seems unremarkable—it’s an off-camera day—but as the hours drag on, an uneasy feeling grips Fourth. He keeps replaying yesterday in his mind: Gemini laughing and running around the parking lot with him, collapsing breathless against the wall, his cheeks flushed and eyes bright. Fourth had thought everything was fine. Now, the silence feels wrong.

Gemini’s only message in the group chat is a vague note: ' Won’t be in today. Something came up.’ It’s not something to be suspicious of, not really, but it gnaws at Fourth, a little too indifferent to be acceptable.

Throughout the day, Fourth notices what he misses most—the faint scent of mint that always lingers when Gemini’s around, the warmth he brings with his presence. Without him, the air feels flat, the walls too quiet. Even the tools seem heavier, their usual rhythm offbeat. Fourth tries to focus on work, but his hands fidget, his gaze darting to his phone more often than he’d like. Dunk, ever observant, teases him, claiming Fourth is using his phone more than the influencer himself. Fourth forces a laugh, but the truth is undeniable: he’s waiting for a message, some sign that Gemini is okay and if not, that Gemini needs him.

The last thought startles Fourth out of his reverie, so he proceeds to shove his phone in the deep end of his bag, deciding to get some work done. By the end of the day, however, the unease has only grown. As the team packs up and leaves, Fourth lingers, finally getting his phone out. Dejectedly, he walks through the quiet building to double-check everything before he shuts shop. The absence feels tangible now, a hollow echo in every empty room. 

When he steps into the dining area, his steps falter. 

There, in the dim light, was Gemini—completely absorbed into his work. He was sitting on the raised platform that used to double as a stage for events, his drafting table set up in front of him, the little purple zodiac sticker gleaming on the side, one Fourth had brought in after Gemini had gone livid over someone from the crew using it as a stand to film TikToks. 

Fourth, at first, thought he needed to get some sleep, a fair assumption that the man that has been on his mind all day was a mere figment of his imagination, but he could tell his brain would’ve never conjured up Gemini like this. His usual poise was absent; instead, he looked disheveled, absorbed in his work with a fierce intensity. 

Papers were scattered around him—blueprints, sketches, all covered in a mess of what seemed like erased lines and hastily rewritten notes. The soft scratch of his pencil was the only sound in the otherwise quiet room.

Gemini’s hair was a little mussed, he was still wearing a shirt he would to work but it wasn’t tucked into his dress pants, he had opted for simple denims too. He didn’t look like someone expecting to be seen—unusual for Gemini, who always seemed to dress for an audience, he thought fondly. 

His shoulders were tense, his posture rigid as he furiously erased yet another part of his drawing. Fourth knew this pattern well, unfortunately. But seeing Gemini like this made something tighten in his chest. 

Without thinking, Fourth walked away. 

Emerging from the backrooms after trying to tiptoe around the water heater, so as to not disturb Gemini, he was walking over to slide a cup of tea beside him, who hadn’t even noticed the man until he was hit with the smell of chamomile and pine . 

Gemini looked up, eyes widening in surprise, the room Gemini had chosen for how big and open it had felt just moments before, suddenly felt smaller, more intimate. Once he adjusted to the presence beside him, he found himself not minding it.

Gemini blinked after a moment, still processing Fourth’s presence. "You’re still here?" His voice was a little hoarse, a faint undercurrent of confusion in his words. 

Fourth cleared his throat, his usual gruffness slipping through. “Why did you come in today? Aren’t you supposed to be on leave, taking care of… something?” His tone was sharp, he couldn’t help it, but there was an undertone of concern there, a soft edge to his words that Gemini had heard before—when Fourth wasn’t just checking in, but really paying attention.

Gemini let out a laugh, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

“Yeah,” his voice was laced with exhaustion. “Apparently, perfection doesn’t take a break.” He let out a hollow chuckle again, clearly trying to lighten the mood, but the stress in his tone was unmistakable to someone like Fourth.

For a moment, Fourth considered actually walking away. He wasn’t used to offering comfort, and it would be easier to leave it at that, maybe even text his new friend Phuwin to handle it, or maybe to even let Gemini handle whatever it was on his own. He is a well functioning adult. Fourth could walk out and pretend he hadn’t seen anything, pretend he didn’t know. 

But then he remembered what he’d promised, all those days ago in the supply warehouse: 

I’m going to try…

So he sat down beside Gemini, the two of them sharing a space that felt more intimate than it should. 

Fourth welcomed it. 

“You know," Fourth began, his voice quieter now, "you don’t always have to do everything yourself…” He could feel the weight of the words before he even finished saying them, the ones he was never sure how to express. "You don’t have to hide behind your work. Not with someone like me.”

Gemini’s eyes flickered over to him, his expression softening the slightest bit. For a brief moment, it was like the walls around him cracked, and Fourth saw something deeper in his gaze—a mix of vulnerability and exhaustion. But the moment passed by just as quickly as it made itself known.

“It’s alright, I’m used to it. It’s easier that way.”

Fourth let out a slow breath, watching as Gemini ran a hand through his hair. He won’t be pushing, but he wasn’t going to let this go, either. 

“It’s not always easier,” Fourth said then, his gaze steady. “Sometimes... sometimes you need to let someone else in, even if it feels like the hardest thing to do. Even if its not me .”

Gemini didn’t answer right away, just stared at his half-finished design, his fingers curling around the handle of his tea cup like it might give him the strength to keep going, welcoming the light burn at his knuckles.

Gemini’s shoulders relaxed just the tiniest bit.

Fourth felt a bit awkward when Gemini chose to not acknowledge him, he had hoped to break through, but Gemini was clearly lost in his own thoughts, his focus intense on the chaotic mess of sketches and blueprints before him. The furrow in Gemini's brow was deep, his hand reached to press to his temples as if trying to ward off the headache threatening to take over.

Feeling out of place, Fourth moved a little closer, leaning against the edge of the drafting table. He glanced over the sketches—lines that seemed to make little sense, revisions crossing each other in an almost frantic attempt to perfect every detail. 

The chaos mirrored the tension in Gemini’s posture.

“I know what you’ve been thinking about,” Fourth said, his voice a little softer than usual, careful not to break the fragile air between them.

Gemini froze, his hand lowering from his forehead. His eyes flickered up, wide and startled, his heart racing in his chest. 

For a brief moment, a knot of panic formed. 

Did Fourth know more about Gemini’s feelings than he let on? Would his brother tattle?

Or 

Did someone tell him about the call he had with his mae today? Would his brother tattle ?

No….

Both thoughts made him feel close to dizziness, his thoughts spun as he tried to mask his fear with a forced casualness, a nervous smile pulling at his lips. "What do you mean?" he asked, voice light but tinged with a hint of wariness.

Fourth, oblivious to the internal struggle unfolding in Gemini, continued. “I know you keep worrying about the designs. You’ve been stuck on the same thing all week,” he said with a shrug. "I can tell. You’ve been trying to fix it, look at it from a fresh perspective, but the solution keeps slipping away, doesn’t it?"

Gemini let out a soft exhale, the weight lifting from his chest, even though the irony of how close Fourth’s interpretation was to the storm in his head wasn’t missed out on him. He hadn’t realized how much tension he’d been holding, and how it was this apparent to someone that wasn’t his P’Phuwin, and how much relief he’d found in Fourth’s attempt to understand his struggles. 

He realised, there was no need to let Fourth know about the one-sided feelings he was harboring—at least not right after accusing him for having feelings towards Dunk just yesterday. 

There was also no need for Gemini to talk about the snide and laughable comments his mother had made over someone from her kitty having seen Gemini walking out of the supermarket, carrying groceries in his night shirt and joggers. He was ashamed at how the comments had still spiraled his day out of control.

Fourth took a moment to study him more closely. His gaze flickered down to Gemini’s hands, where smudges of graphite marked his fingers, evidence of the hours spent working on this, even before he got here. He tapped on the cup of tea in Gemini’s hand, gently guiding it toward him, a silent offer of comfort. Gemini hesitated, his fingers curling around the pencil in his other hand again. But his gaze lingered on the tea, the warmth of it tempting him. He didn’t move to drink it, though.

Fourth’s voice, quiet but steady, broke the silence. “If you want, you can explain what’s bothering you with the design. I might be able to help.” There was no push, no insistence, just a simple invitation to talk, to let go of the burden if Gemini so wished.

Gemini sighed, placing the cup down and rubbing his temples once more before looking at Fourth. His shoulders slumped, “It’s this section,” he muttered, pointing to a series of measurements that didn’t seem to align with the rest of the design, because that also had been on his mind all day. "I keep trying to make it work, but it’s never right. I don’t know why it’s not clicking."

Fourth leaned in, glancing at the paper and the section Gemini had pointed to. He studied it for a moment, fingers tapping thoughtfully against his lips. 

“You’ve got the proportions right,” he said after a beat, “but the angles here”—he gestured with his finger—“are throwing the flow off. If you adjust this by a few degrees, it’ll balance better. The space won’t feel cramped, and you’ll have room for the functional elements we need.”

Gemini’s eyes followed Fourth’s finger as he traced the lines on the blueprint. “Wait… you might be onto something,” Gemini said, his voice quieter now, “Thanks,”

Fourth didn’t respond immediately, his eyes still focused on the design. He could feel the gratitude in Gemini’s words, but he didn’t dare look up in those boba eyes today. Not with how his own heart has been a whirlwind of feelings all day. 

He reached out then, taking Gemini’s pencil, arms brushing as he made the suggested adjustments, a flush forming on his own cheeks as he continued to not meet Gemini’s eyes.

Gemini watched, a strange sense of calm washing over him as Fourth worked. When Fourth finished, out of habit, Gemini took the pencil and tucked it behind his ear, as he glanced at Fourth. The tension was still there, but it had shifted somehow, becoming softer. 

Gemini wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep pretending he wasn’t falling for the man sitting beside him, but for now, all he could do was smile, a quiet, grateful smile, and take the small victory of having someone there who cared.

Fourth’s voice broke the silence, a question hanging in the space between them, that changed the course of the night.

"Why do you push yourself this hard?"

Gemini’s fingers twitched, curling around the eraser in his hand. His nails dug into it as if he could crush the stress and the weight of his own thoughts that way. He sat there, still for a long moment, trying to formulate the right words, but they wouldn’t come easily. After a deep, almost defeated breath, he finally spoke, his voice quieter than before.

"Because… I don’t know how not to," he said, his eyes not quite meeting Fourth's. "Being a Norawit always meant never being allowed to fail, always making everything we do look effortless. I’ve tried to shirk off that responsibility that was never mine to take for years. I even moved out of Thailand hoping for some respite, but in the end I’m back here and they’re all still the same. If I mess this up... it’s not just my reputation. It’s now my family’s. I wanted to ignore it, I think I began doing a decent job of it too, but now I can see how everybody already thinks I only got this job because of my name. I need to prove them wrong."

Gemini’s lungs burned as he took a deep breath in. There was a tension in the air, an unspoken heaviness that stretched between them. Fourth didn’t answer right away, but something flickered in his eyes—something almost imperceptible. 

A small recognition of the pain Gemini was carrying.

Fourth leaned forward slightly, his hands resting lightly on the edge of the table.

“Prove them wrong? What happens then?” Fourth asked, his tone cutting through the silence like a blade. “They’ll find something else to question. They always do. You think this pressure will end if you’re perfect, but it won’t. People like that… they don’t stop. They just move the goalposts until you’re too tired to chase them any longer.”

Gemini blinked, caught off guard by the rawness in Fourth’s words.

“You don’t need to run yourself into the ground to earn their approval,” Fourth continued. “It’s a losing game. And you know it.”

Gemini froze, the words sinking into him like a stone. It should have felt comforting, but instead, it felt like a challenge, as though Fourth were offering him an impossible goalpost himself. How could he simply shift to only doing things for himself? To be free of others' expectations. He wasn’t sure if he could even understand what that might feel like. 

There was something so easy in Fourth’s tone, so calm, that Gemini found it unsettling. It was almost too kind, too understanding—things Gemini wasn’t used to, especially not coming from someone like Fourth, the epitome of mixed feelings. 

Without thinking, he retaliated, his voice rougher than he intended, as if the words had been sitting on his tongue for far too long, the indents never quite healing.

"Easy for you to say," Gemini replied, his voice cracking slightly, betraying the frustration beneath. "You don’t have people watching your every move, waiting for you to fail. How could you know how I feel?"

The words hung in the air, thick with unspoken emotions, Fourth’s jaw tightened. He hesitated, the brief flicker of tension in his body betraying his usual calm. He knew the weight of what Gemini was talking about. The weight of always feeling watched, judged, waiting for a misstep that could ruin everything.

Gemini felt the immediate shift in the room, a sense of unease creeping up his spine. He knew he’d crossed a line. He winced as his mind raced back to the conversation he’d had with Pond—The way Mark had used Fourth, manipulated him, and then left him to be torn apart by the media vultures. Fourth didn’t know that Gemini knew about that part of his past, and it wasn’t something Gemini had planned on bringing up.

But hearing Fourth’s silence now, Gemini couldn’t help but feel that the unspoken history between them was suddenly thicker, more tangible. He frowned. 

“I—” Gemini started, but the words faltered. He wanted to apologize, but the moment felt too fragile. Fourth’s eyes grew morose, the hardness in his expression slowly retreating. He didn’t speak immediately, just stared at Gemini with an unreadable expression, eyes glassy. 

“It’s not easy for anyone, Gemini. But that doesn’t mean you can’t handle it. You’re not alone in this." He paused, letting his words settle before softening his tone further. 

Then, he continued. “Look, I get it,” Fourth said, his eyes steady on Gemini’s widened ones. 

“You’ve spent your whole life carrying their expectations like they were yours to hold. But you don’t owe them that. The only person you owe anything to is yourself. So stop trying to prove you deserve the space you’re in. Just take it. Erase the parts that don’t work in your favor any longer and draw over them. Build it. Fill it with what and who you love. And let them deal with their own damn doubts.” Fourth was panting lightly, hands pressing down on either side of him like he was about to stand up and run away, but he didn’t stop looking at Gemini.

Gemini’s grip on the eraser loosened, his gaze finally lifting to meet Fourth’s. There was no judgment in Fourth’s eyes, only a quiet, unyielding belief that hit harder than anything Gemini had heard before. Gemini nodded, a small smile on his face. Fourth smiled back at him, and he almost looked bashful, his own words finally settling between them. 

"Maybe I don’t have people watching me," Fourth finally said, his voice low, "but I’ve spent my whole life thinking I had to fend for myself. Relying on people… trusting them… that’s not easy for me." He paused, the words hanging in the air like a confession. "I tried it once, and it didn’t go well."

Gemini noticed the change in Fourth’s tone—the rare slip that exposed something beneath the surface. He set his cup down gently, his eyes following Fourth's movements, and without hesitation, he turned fully to face him. His expression softened, almost instinctively.

"Why?" Gemini asked, his voice a mere whisper, careful not to push too hard, yet unable to ignore the tug of curiosity.

For a long moment, Fourth didn’t respond. His gaze wavered, his eyes locking with Gemini's, then flickering away just as quickly, as if weighing whether he should share more. For the briefest moment, it felt like he might tell Gemini everything. His past. His childhood. The loneliness. The betrayals. 

"Just… let’s say I’ve learned not to expect people to stick around." His words were careful, guarded, and yet, the cracks in his usual composure were unmistakable.

Gemini wanted to press, to ask more, to find out what had caused the distance between Fourth and the world. But he didn’t, sensing that now wasn’t the time. He’d already shared more than Gemini had expected, more than anyone else probably had.

Fourth looked away for a moment before speaking again, his tone still distant but with an edge of something personal behind it. "I didn’t have the best start in life. There were... hurdles." His voice faltered, and Gemini could almost hear the unsaid words that hung in the air between them. "I trusted the wrong people, and… well, things didn’t turn out well."

There was an ache in Fourth’s voice that spoke of more than just disappointment—something far deeper that he couldn’t fully voice.

"But then," Fourth continued, his gaze flicking briefly to Gemini before dropping again, "this job. This profession... it gave me an out. A chance to start over, to build something for myself." He paused, his gaze distant now, like he was lost in his own thoughts. 

"I don’t know if I love the job because it gave me a chance at a better life or if it’s actually my calling. But it’s all I have now ."

Gemini’s heart clenched at the vulnerability in Fourth’s tone, the silence between them stretched, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It felt, in its own way, intimate. Gemini didn’t push for more. He didn’t need the whole truth. The space between them feels charged, as if every inch of air is alive with something unspoken. 

Gemini's gaze softens as he looks down until his eyes are tracing the line of Fourth’s hand. Gemini is very aware of his own hand now, now closer to Fourth and lingering in the space between them, and Fourth’s breath catches, his chest tightening. 

Fourth wants to look up from their hands, to meet Gemini’s eyes, but he knows the moment he does, all the control he’s been holding onto will crumble. He knows that if their gazes lock, if Gemini’s eyes—those deep, soulful eyes—capture him, he’ll lose whatever shred of restraint he’s been clinging to. His lips will crash against Gemini’s, and he’s terrified of what that kiss would mean, terrified of how much he wants it. 

Fourth is not used to his dreams turning into reality.

But Gemini doesn’t move closer. His fingers stay where they are, just barely brushing against Fourth’s, like he’s waiting for something. Fourth’s heart pounds in his chest as he fights the urge to act, to give in to what his body is begging for.

Instead, in a silent act of compromise, Fourth extends his pinky finger, stretching it out just enough to brush against Gemini’s. His movement is slow, deliberate, as if he’s testing the waters, as if he’s giving Gemini the space to decide. The moment their pinkies curl together, the tension between them shifts, not lessening, but taking on a different quality—something tender, almost fragile.

Gemini’s breath hitches, his fingers twitching for a moment before they settle around Fourth’s pinky, and for a moment, it’s as if the world narrows down to just the two of them, caught in a simple, quiet gesture. Neither of them can deny the way their hearts beat faster, the way their skin tingles where they’re touching.

The sound of both their phones pinging breaks the fragile moment between them. Gemini’s eyes snap to his screen, and Fourth does the same, the mood shifting instantly as the conversation in the group chat takes over, their hands separate.

Pond’s message is straightforward: ‘They’re sending someone to help coordinate more drama into the show. All the best to us.’

Before either of them can fully process it, Dunk jumps in, his message quick and teasing: ‘Gemini and Fourth make sure you carry lipgloss for tomorrow 😉’

Fourth snorts, unable to suppress his amusement, the absurdity of Dunk implying the same thing he was about to give into making him feel lighter, somehow. His fingers hover over the keyboard, then he types a quick response, pointedly not looking up at Gemini. It’s a GIF of a man smoking a cigar and saying “Don’t threaten me with a good time.”

Dunk explodes in a flurry of messages, and Fourth immediately smacks the phone out of Gemini’s hands, placing it with his to the side. 

“Aow? What did you send on the group?” 

Fourth fails at not locking his eyes on the pink lips pouting in front of him. Gemini’s expression straightens up, turning to look at his papers again.  

“Anyway, I need to get back to work,” he mutters, looking around frantically for his pencil. His hands are a bit unsteady as he searches through the mess of papers. “Again? Really!”

Fourth watches him for a moment, a fond smile tugging at his lips. There’s something endearing about how hard Gemini tries to maintain his composure, and it makes him feel a rush of warmth. Without thinking, he leans closer, his hand gently cupping Gemini’s chin and turning him to face him. The action is slow, deliberate, and unexpectedly intimate.

Gemini freezes for a split second before he catches on, eyes immediately looking down at the mouth in front of his. Fourth brushes a stray lock of hair from Gemini’s face with a tenderness that makes something warm and needy coil in Gemini’s abdomen. 

His fingers trail lightly along Gemini’s soft skin, until he reaches his destination and plucks the pencil from the crevice it was shoved into, behind the architect’s ear.  

Gemini’s breath hitches, his eyes lock onto Fourth’s, and Gemini’s pupils are dilated, his heart racing. The look in his eyes betrays everything he’s been trying to keep hidden—desire, vulnerability, the weight of everything unspoken.

“The… pencil,” Fourth mumbles, pointedly not looking at the way Gemini’s lips are parted. 

They both look away at the same time, coughing away the tension between them, their hearts hammering loudly in their chests, hoping the other can’t hear it. 

“Right. Let me know if you… need anything else.” I’ll be right there, he motions to the back rooms where he had last paused his check ins.

As Fourth turns to leave, the tension lingers, heavy and unresolved, unbeknownst of the storm Monday would bring.