They got back to the house, and Phuwin muttered something about cleaning up before ducking into the bathroom. He came out a few minutes later wearing one of Pond’s old T-shirts. It hung loose on him, the fabric worn and stretched, clinging in places it shouldn’t. The faint scent of Pond’s detergent—pine and citrus—clung to the fabric, a scent that settled in Phuwin’s chest like a lead weight, a strange mix of comfort and gut-wrenching ache.

Pond was already in the living room, perched rigidly on the edge of the couch, phone clutched in his hand. But the moment Phuwin appeared, his posture relaxed, his gaze softening.

Phuwin made a show of not noticing Pond lounging on the couch as he approached. He didn’t so much sit as descend upon it, immediately launching into a battle with the throw pillows and afghan.

Pond watched the display, a slow smile spreading across his face. "Distracting yourself won't work forever, you know. When you’re about done redecorating, I’ll be right here."

Phuwin gave him a hard look. “It’s called being comfortable. A concept you seem unfamiliar with.”

He dropped onto the couch, the afghan bunching around his ankles. He didn't bother straightening it. Swinging his legs up, he dumped them in Pond's lap, like a spoiled cat demanding a scratch.

Pond blinked, his hands freezing inches above Phuwin’s shins as if he’d been caught red-handed.

“Relax,” Phuwin scoffed, “It’s just legs.”

Pond’s lips twisted into that infuriating smirk. It was maddening, really, how he could look so effortlessly cool and so damn annoying at the same time. “Legs, sure. But you have a way of turning even the simplest thing into a dramatic production.”

Phuwin rolled his eyes, a scowl tugging at his lips. “You sound like you're giving a TED Talk. Cut to the chase.”

Pond's smile faltered, the mirth in his eyes replaced by a darker, more intense look. “I'm serious about this, Phu. About us.”

The word ‘us’ hung heavy in the air, a suffocating weight. Phuwin’s cheeks flamed, but he stared him down, his mind racing with thoughts he’d rather not acknowledge.

Pond's voice was low, controlled. “Look, before we go any further, I need to be clear. I hurt you. I wasn’t honest about my feelings, and—”

"Yeah, yeah," Phuwin muttered, waving him off. "You’re sorry. I’ve heard it all before. It’s fine." He didn't want to sound so bitter, but the words slipped out before he could catch them.

Pond’s brow furrowed, but he didn’t bite back. Unexpected. And a bit startling. Instead, he rested his hands on Phuwin’s legs, a touch so gentle it was almost mocking. Was this their new normal?

"This isn’t just some cheap apology,” Pond said, his voice low. "I'm not gonna sugarcoat shit. What I did was fucked up, even if I was a mess. I want to hear you out, every word, every damn syllable. Then, if you'll let me, I'll explain why we're in this mess. Why I put us here."

Phuwin's throat constricted. “Everything?” he rasped.

Pond nodded, his eyes burning into his. “All of it.”

Phuwin toyed with the idea of a sarcastic quip, a quick lie to wriggle out of this. But Pond’s gaze, heavy and intense, held him captive. It was both torture and a high, a strange and intoxicating mix.

“Fine,” he grumbled.

He bolted upright, yanking his legs off Pond's lap. Couldn't exactly have this conversation draped over the guy like a soggy noodle. He huddled into himself instead, arms wrapped tight around his knees.

"At first,” he began, “I told myself Vegas was… nothing. A mistake. A drunken haze. What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas, right?” He chuckled, short and bitter, but Pond just watched him, that soft look in his eyes. Of course, Pond would look at him like that. That’s what made this whole thing so damn frustrating. Because Phuwin wasn’t ready for this Pond, not yet. Get a grip, Phuwin! he thought to himself, annoyed.

"But you didn't say shit," Phuwin pressed, his voice hardening. "Not a damn word. Not even one of your stupid jokes. And I thought, 'Oh, maybe he regrets it. Maybe he woke up and realized he'd fucked up royally when it wasn't Dunk.'" He choked on the name, but he forced himself to continue. "And then after the vet, you started acting all... all weird. Like we were some old, married couple or something. I didn't know what the hell to do with that. It freaked me the fuck out."

Pond didn't speak, letting the quiet fill the space between them. It was frustrating how Phuwin couldn't decipher the emotions etched on his face.

“So I went to my therapist," Phuwin admitted. "And she said I should try seeing you as... as a man. Not as Dunk's husband, or my family. Just... you.”

Pond’s eyes softened, but Phuwin plowed ahead before he could chicken out. “But it didn’t help. ‘Cause then I noticed everything. The way you laughed, the way you looked at me, the way you… well, you know… you…” He trailed off, his face flushing. “Anyway, I figured you weren’t into me, so I tried to, uh, see if I could tempt you. Seduce you or whatever.”

Pond smirked, a smug glint in his eye. Phuwin groaned, burying his face in his hands. “God, stop looking at me like that. It was a stupid move, okay? I thought you didn’t see me like that when you didn’t react. So I ran. And then you didn’t call or text or anything. I figured I was right. I’m just a damn replacement for Dunk, that’s it.”

A heavy silence fell between them. Phuwin stole a glance at Pond, expecting pity, maybe. Or worse, that infuriating indifference. But Pond’s face was a mask, his knuckles white from gripping the armrest.

When he finally got a word in edgewise, his voice was low and steady, but a tremor ran through it. “Phu... you're no replacement. Not for Dunk, or anyone. Just so you know, before I say anything else.”

Phuwin's breath caught in his chest, his heart aching. Pond's hand reached out, warm and comforting. “Can I tell you my side of things now?” he asked softly.

Phuwin could only nod, his throat too tight to form words.

Pond's voice was like a shot of whiskey—smooth, dark, and dangerous. It had a way of settling deep into Phuwin's gut, leaving him both buzzed and uneasy. A voice that could soothe or stir, depending on the mood.

But now, as Pond spoke, that familiar allure felt fractured. It was still there, but it crashed over him in relentless waves, raw and heavy. Phuwin’s heart clenched. Every word Pond uttered was a truth he'd dreaded, a truth that would rip open the wounds of the past weeks. This voice, once a source of comfort, was now his undoing. It stripped him bare, forcing him to confront the pain he'd tried to bury. Each syllable was a knife, cutting deep into his soul. And yet, despite the agony, Phuwin couldn’t look away. Not because of Pond’s voice, but because of Pond’s honesty.

"I was a dick," Pond muttered, his gaze fixed on a spot above Phuwin's head. "Vegas never should've happened. I should've stopped myself. I should've protected you."

Phuwin blinked, stunned. Pond wasn't usually one to pull punches, but his self-loathing was almost too much to bear.

"But I guess it happened 'cause..." Pond hesitated, his Adam's apple bobbing. " 'Cause I never really mourned Dunk. Not for real. Not until you showed up that October."

Phuwin remained motionless, the blanket a shield against Pond's raw, emotional onslaught.

“I didn’t shed a single tear after the funeral,” Pond muttered, his voice barely a whisper. “Not one. ‘Cause crying meant admitting he was really gone, and I wasn’t ready for that. Dunk was gone, and I was…” He choked back a sob. “I just couldn’t handle it. At the funeral, I was one step away from breaking down. People kept droning on about their condolences, but all I wanted was to be with Dunk. There he was, trapped in that stupid casket, and it hit me—I’d never hear his laugh again, or see him roll his eyes at my shitty jokes.”

Phuwin fidgeted, his hands useless at his sides. He finally shoved them under the covers, clutching the fabric like a lifeline.

"You showed up," Pond continued, a bitter smile twisting his lips. "Looking like him. For a goddamned second, I thought Dunk was back. My brain played a sick joke on me, and I hated myself for falling for it. But you weren't him. Not even close. And maybe that's what I needed—someone who wasn't him, but who still..." He trailed off, fingers idly tracing the couch seam. "…felt familiar. Someone to make me feel the loss, really feel it. I couldn't stop crying after that."

Phuwin's heart shattered into a million pieces. He opened his mouth to interrupt, but Pond plowed on, his voice steady as a rock, like he was determined to get this damn thing over with.

"Vegas," Pond sighed, raking a hand through his hair. "Yeah, I regret it. But not because I mistook you for Dunk. That ship sailed after day one. And trust me, that was the only time I ever thought that." His gaze locked onto Phuwin's for the first time, intense and unwavering. "You're nothing like him, Phu. You've never been. Different scent, different feel, different moves. Hell, you even argue differently. I knew it was you, even wasted. That's what made me hate myself so much."

Phuwin cocked his head, a frown creasing his brow. “Why?”

"‘Cause I felt like a fucking creep, taking advantage of you,” Pond confessed, his gaze locked on Phuwin. His eyes were glassy, a look of guilt that was totally out of character. “You deserved better. I was ashamed, Phu. Betraying Dunk twice over. As his husband, and as your sorry-ass brother-in-law who should’ve stepped up. Dunk always talked about you like you were the sun and the moon. I was fucking up his memory by sleeping with you. I’ve never felt lower.”

Phuwin's mouth gaped, then snapped shut, his mind racing with a thousand thoughts.

“So, I didn’t say shit,” Pond admitted. “I thought if I just played dumb, maybe you’d get bored and move on. But then I couldn’t stop thinking about you. And it wasn’t just the guilt. It was… everything else. You played me, Phuwin. Every damn day. You think I was oblivious to your little game? Hell, I saw it clear as day.”

Phuwin's face flamed. “I wasn't that obvious, was I?”

Pond snorted, a real laugh for the first time that night. “Phu, you’re as subtle as a brick through a window. Lucky for you, I'm a master of the poker face. That's why we cleaned up in Vegas - I can act like I don't give a damn.”

"Oh, so that's what you call the cold shoulder?" Phuwin scoffed, crossing his arms.

"Self-preservation," Pond muttered, a bitter edge to his voice. "You think it was a walk in the park, living with you? Seeing you every damn day, knowing how I felt, and pretending like nothing was happening? Do you have any clue how many times I had to douse myself with cold water just to keep my head straight? Or how many times I wanted to scream your name, curse you out? But I couldn't. Not with those damn walls listening. I was too scared. Terrified, even. Scared of betraying Dunk, of hurting you, of ruining everything."

Phuwin blinked, stunned. “All this time... I thought it was just me.” he breathed.

Pond slumped back into the couch, his hand grazing Phuwin’s knee. “Look, I’m sorry for making you think I was some kind of jerk. I don’t even know when my feelings for you started to shift. There wasn’t some big epiphany. It just... happened. But I had to figure it out. I couldn’t risk screwing things up, especially not so soon after Dunk. I didn’t want to do anything stupid or irreversible. I needed time to sort things out, but before I could, you left.”

"You didn’t bother to call,” Phuwin snapped.

"I didn't," Pond admitted, leaning forward, his elbows digging into his knees. His hand, still on Phuwin's knee, squeezed tighter. "But it was because you ditched me. You weren't supposed to bolt. And when you did, I..." His voice hitched, and he swallowed hard, his grip tightening. "I panicked. I made a stupid plan. I was gonna fix this before New Year's. I figured a week of radio silence wouldn't hurt. Enough time to clear my head and make sure I wasn't dragging you into a mess—or worse, hurting you more. I didn't want to lead you on, Phu. Not with that overthinking brain of yours."

Phuwin's jawline hardened, his eyes burning with unshed tears. “You think you can see inside my head?”

Pond let out a long, exasperated sigh. “I know you. I know you'd beat yourself up over this. Blame yourself for something you had no control over. I thought maybe some silence would give you a chance to breathe.”

“‘If I just get this over with,’ I thought, ‘it’ll all fall into place.’ But I forgot how deep my silence cut. I didn’t realize how much pain I was causing you."

Phuwin stared at him. “For someone so goddamn smart, you're an idiot. You didn't call because you had a plan? What kind of moron does that?”

"Yeah," Pond replied, his voice pleading. "Looking back, it was a dumb move. But hey, I thought I could pull it off before you even noticed. I didn't want you to get hurt, Phu. I was trying to protect you, idiot that I was."

Phuwin let out a hollow laugh, shaking his head. “Protecting me by keeping me in the dark, huh? Making me feel utterly worthless?”

"I was trying to do the right thing!" Pond shot back, his voice rising. "I was trying to—" He cut himself off, exhaling sharply. "I thought I was doing the right thing," he muttered, his voice softening. "But it was killing me. I missed you like hell, Phu. I couldn't sleep, couldn't eat. I finally went to talk to Dunk—at his grave. And that's when it hit me..." Pond paused, his gaze boring into Phuwin's. "Loving you wasn't betraying him. It was just... loving you. And that's all I want."

Phuwin glared at him, his heart hammering in his chest. “You’re such a sap,” he muttered. “The biggest idiot I’ve ever known."

Pond smiled warmly, his eyes crinkling. “Yeah, I am. But I’m your damn idiot, through and through."

Phuwin rolled his eyes, a smirk playing on his lips. “So, what now, hotshot?”

"Now,” Pond whispered, his hand gently tracing Phuwin’s. “We’re all in, baby.” He kissed the back of Phuwin’s hand gently. “We’ll face everything together. We talk, we fight, we make up. No more pain, no more sorrow.”

Phuwin nodded, his chest a tight knot, but at least it wasn't the suffocating kind. “Fine. But don't pull any stunts just to get attention. I ain't got the energy for your bullshit.”

Pond smirked, his eyes glinting with amusement. “Oh, please. You're the one who stomps out like a child after days of pouting.”

“Excuse me,” Phuwin retorted, a flush creeping up his neck. “Says the guy who practically tripped over himself running out of there the second he saw Fourth at my door. You didn’t even wait to hear what I had to say."

"Thought I’d missed the damn boat," Pond said, throwing his hands up. "Fourth looked like he’d just been kissed into next week, and you…" His gaze softened. "You looked… happy. With him. Didn’t figure I had a dog in that fight."

Phuwin swallowed his sharp reply. For all Pond’s bluster, he glimpsed something raw, unguarded, a vulnerability that stopped him cold. “So you just… left?”

Pond shrugged, a wry twist to his lips. “Yeah. Figured my ego could use a break.”

Phuwin’s incredulous stare could have bored holes through him. “Fourth? Seriously? You thought he was a threat? Sweetest guy I’ve ever met. Didn’t even bat an eye when I kissed him just to spite you.”

Pond muttered, "He's got that thoroughly kissed look," a hint of defensiveness edging his tone.

Phuwin snorted, arms crossed. "You're a goddamn moron."

"And yet, here you are, still talking to me," Pond retorted, his smirk back in place. "So, what does that say about you?"

"A masochist, apparently," Phuwin muttered, a grin tugging at his lips. He roared with laughter, shoving Pond playfully. "I hate you, you idiot."

"No, you don't," Pond smirked, tugging Phuwin closer. "Admit it. You're smitten." He ruffled Phuwin's hair.

Phuwin couldn't help the smile that crept onto his face. “Yeah, I am,” he said softly.

"Now that’s more like it," Pond grinned, pressing his forehead against Phuwin’s. "And don’t worry, the feeling's mutual. I'm head over heels for you too. But, there's just one thing I need you to promise me."

"What?" Phuwin murmured, his voice gentle.

"Next time you storm out, I’m following your ass. No more running away alone."

Phuwin's smile dropped, his expression turning as serious as Pond's. "Promise."

"Good." Pond kissed his forehead, then smirked. "But seriously, lay off the drama, diva."

Phuwin pouted and swatted at his chest, but Pond caught his wrist and pinned it against his own chest. He chuckled as he pulled Phuwin into a tight hug that felt like home.

Phuwin had never been the romantic type. But now that Pond was his… what? Boyfriend? Partner? Soulmate? Gross. Soulmates didn’t swear at each other in the grocery store.

“Boyfriend” sounded right, but only if boyfriends kissed each other on the lips. Which they didn’t. Not yet, anyway. Instead, Pond kissed his forehead like some knight in shining armor, tousled his hair like he was a kid, and hugged him tight enough to crush his ribs.

Not that Phuwin minded. Hell no. He loved it. He loved waking up tangled in Pond’s arms, Haru snoring at his feet, and Parker trying (and failing) to squeeze between them. He loved how Pond still insulted him with that same deadpan look, how they bantered like a couple of old drunks even while cleaning up after the dog in the park.

But... what the fuck were they?

This wasn’t middle school. He wasn’t some awkward kid with a Pokémon card collection and a bad haircut. He was a grown-ass man—or trying to be—and if Pond couldn’t see that, then it was time to rewrite the script.

Phuwin was determined. If Pond thought he was some wide-eyed kid playing house, he’d show him.

It started small. Almost imperceptible.

At breakfast, Phuwin ditched his usual comfy hoodie and sweats for a tight t-shirt that showed off his collarbones and hugged his lean waist. Pond raised an eyebrow but said nothing, while Haru stared at him like he'd sprouted a second head.

Pond calling him "baby" no longer tripped him up, though he still cringed inside. Progress.

This “grown-ass man” rebranding continued even during their morning walk with Parker and Haru.

It was a quiet morning, broken only by the rustle of leaves and Parker’s enthusiastic sniffs. A cool breeze swept in from the Indian River, and Phuwin pulled his hoodie tighter, shivering despite the light jacket.

Pond's brow furrowed as he glanced over. “Why didn't you put on a jacket?”

“It’s Florida,” Phuwin replied, like that explained anything. His knuckles whitened as he clenched his fists, a futile gesture against the biting cold.

Pond sighed, his eyes soft. He gently took Phuwin’s hand and slid it into his warm pocket. The sudden warmth made Phuwin stumble, yanking Parker’s leash taut.

"What are you—"

"You're freezing, love," Pond murmured, squeezing his hand. “Just keep it there.”

Phuwin wanted to strangle the guy, marry him, or just give up and die. His brain, ever the coward, chose the last option: total system failure. “I—uh—thanks?”

Pond chuckled softly. “You're blushing.”

“Am not.”

"Phu," Pond chuckled, squeezing his hand softly. "You're as red as a freshly plucked cherry.”

Phuwin ripped his hand away, cursing silently as the cold air nipped at his skin. “It’s just the weather,” he lied, his voice a pathetic croak.

And yet, as they walked, his hand found its way back into Pond’s pocket—against his better judgment, of course. Turns out being a grown-up didn’t come with immunity to Pond’s absurdly warm hands—or, worse, that smile. That smile that made him want to do stupid things. So much for self-respect.

By the time they got home, Phuwin had a new plan. Clearly, the 'silent maturity' wasn’t cutting it. It was time for a more... active approach.

He ditched the sarcastic quips and playful insults, trading them for a serious tone that would make a PhD student blush.

"Pond," he said. Parker was curled up in his lap, oblivious to the conversation. "Have you considered refinancing your mortgage? With interest rates declining, it could be a prudent financial strategy."

Pond’s tea sloshed over the rim of the cup as he stared, stunned. “Phu, I own this house free and clear. No mortgage.”

“Ah, yes. I see.” Phuwin blinked, a bit thrown. How the hell did he forget that? “Well, that is certainly a responsible approach.”

Pond smirked. “Thanks for the financial advice, sweetheart. Next time, maybe you can teach me how to launder money?”

Phuwin hurled a pillow at him. “Tryna have a grown-up convo here, idiot.”

"Uh-huh," Pond drawled, his smirk widening. "Speaking of grown-up, maybe we can tackle your habit of leaving the lights on like a kid?"

Phuwin groaned, faceplanting into Parker’s fur. Well, this was a fine way to look mature.

But the real masterpiece came when they were whipping up dinner. Pond was dicing onions with the precision of a surgeon, and Phuwin, in a moment of either genius or sheer stupidity, leaned against the counter and purred, “You’re looking mighty fine today.”

Pond's knife paused mid-air. “Who the hell are you? And what the hell are you doing with my Phuwin?”

"Huh?" Phuwin blinked, feigning innocence.

"You've been acting... off. What's the deal?" Pond dropped the knife, wiping his hands on a dish towel before turning to face him.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” Phuwin lied, a weak attempt at a poker face.

Pond’s eyes bored into him, piercing through the bullshit. “Sit. Now.”

Phuwin slumped onto the couch like a scolded child. Parker, the little shit, immediately plopped down beside him, a clear sign of impending doom.

Pond sat across from him, chin propped on his knuckles, eyes boring into Phuwin like a hawk eyeing its prey. “Talk. Why are you acting like someone else?”

“I’m not—”

“You are.”

"I just... I thought maybe..." Phuwin sputtered, words tumbling out like a drunkard's confession. "You don't see me that way yet. You know, as your actual boyfriend.”

"Why wouldn't I, love? I can't imagine not seeing you that way."

“‘Cause we haven’t kissed. Or… you know,” Phuwin waved a hand vaguely, his face a fiery mess. “You treat me like I’m still sixteen, I get it. I was a kid when we met, and I’m probably still a pain in the ass, but I’m not a kid anymore. I just… I thought maybe you’d take me seriously if I acted, you know, grown-up. Like a real man.”

Pond leaned back, letting out a long breath. “Phuwin, I don’t see you as a kid. Hell no. And you don't need to tiptoe around me. Don't change a damn thing about yourself. I love you for exactly who you are – messy, sarcastic, and somehow still capable of leaving socks on the bathroom floor. That's you. And that's who I fell for. But I'm taking this slow. This isn't just about the physical. I don’t want to rush into anything, especially not after what happened last time."

Oh.

"It's not that I don't want you," Pond insisted, his voice steady but his eyes soft. "It's about wanting you right. You mean too much to me to rush into this. And yeah, I know you're overthinking. I've seen that look a million times."

Phuwin gaped, ready to protest. Pond cut him off with a raised hand.

"You're overanalyzing, always the martyr. But this isn't about who we used to be. It's about who we are now. And if I've made you feel inadequate, that's my fault. I'm sorry."

Phuwin stared at Pond, the apology catching him so off guard he might as well have been hit by a truck.

"I love you,” Pond said, simple as that. And there it was again—that damn look. The one that always left Phuwin weak-kneed and breathless.

"Okay," Phuwin croaked, his voice a mere whisper.

"Okay?" Pond's lips curled into a smug smirk.

"Yeah, okay," Phuwin muttered, his gaze fixed on Pond. A slow nod followed, then a deep breath. "Can I kiss you, then?"

Pond leaned in, their foreheads almost touching. “Go ahead,” he smirked, his eyes crinkling with amusement.

Phuwin moved in slow and deliberate, a predatory grace. One hand cupped Pond’s jaw, guiding his head just so. When he was perfectly positioned, Phuwin closed the gap, their lips meeting in a soft, almost hesitant kiss. Pond’s breath caught, a tiny hitch in his chest. He kissed back, his touch tentative at first, then growing bolder. The scent of summer rain and the warmth of Pond’s lips filled Phuwin’s senses. He was home.

It was easy to melt into Pond, a boneless heap in his lap. Phuwin, ever the touchy-feely type, trailed a hand down Pond's neck, sighing as he arched into the gentle pressure.

Pond's larger frame dwarfed Phuwin's, but it was his gentle touch that truly comforted him. His broad shoulders and strong arms offered a sense of safety. Pond's thumbs rested lightly on Phuwin's sides, his fingertips almost meeting at his spine.

Phuwin's heart raced, a wild, chaotic beat, a rhythm he usually only felt after a grueling run. His lips tingled with a strange, electric sensation. He was kissing Pond. Actually kissing Pond. And sober, mind you.

He sucked in a ragged breath, pulling back to bury his face in Pond’s neck. Pond’s hand found its way to Phuwin’s shoulders, kneading soothing circles. Phuwin’s ragged breathing slowly began to even out.

He'd been gripping Pond's shirt like a lifeline, hadn't he? Slowly, he loosened his grip, his fingers splayed across Pond's chest, tracing the rise and fall of his breath, the steady thrum of his heartbeat.

"You good, babe?” Pond asked, finally, pressing a sloppy kiss to Phuwin’s hair. Phuwin nodded, then let out a bark of laughter and half-assedly swatted at Pond’s shoulder.

Phuwin laughed his ass off, tears streaming down his face. He leaned against Pond, his forehead thudding against the other man’s shoulder. It was ridiculous, ironic, and heart-explodingly funny, all at once.

Pond's brow furrowed, a soft smile playing on his lips. “What's so amusing?"

“It’s just…,” Phuwin sputtered between giggles, waving a hand in the air. “It’s full circle, isn’t it? Me, kissing you. Us, here.” He took a deep breath, wiped his face, and sat up straight, still perched on Pond’s lap. “Remember when I was a kid? I asked you about the mechanics of gay sex?"

Pond blinked, his smirk morphing into a full-blown grin, one of those rare, heart-stopping ones that made Phuwin's stomach do a backflip. “Oh, I remember alright. How could I forget? You blindsided me with that inappropriate question. Nearly gave me whiplash.”

Phuwin groaned, burying his face in his hands. “I wasn’t even questioning myself back then! I was just curious. You and your stupid movie choices.”

Pond chuckled, leaning back. “Sure, whatever you say. But you were pretty damn persistent for someone just 'curious'.”

"Can you blame me? You and Dunk were the only gay dudes I knew back then," Phuwin retorted, lowering his hands to glare at him playfully. "And you two were always at it like rabbits."

Phuwin shook his head, a wry smile playing on his lips. “Speaking of,” he drawled, “it wasn’t that conversation that got the wheels turning. It was later…” His smile faded, replaced by a thoughtful look. “I overheard you and Dunk going at it in the next room."

Pond froze. “Oh. My. God."

"Yeah," Phuwin nodded, a smug grin spreading across his face. "Did you know the walls here are paper-thin? I heard everything. Every little grunt and moan. Dunk sounded like he was having a religious experience, for crying out loud. I remember lying there, thinking, ‘So, what’s so special about two dicks colliding?’”

Pond groaned, his head lolling back against the couch. “What the actual fuck?” he muttered, a pained expression twisting his face. “Did that really just come out of your mouth? Oh, God, I’m having a stroke, aren’t I?"

"It haunted me, Pond," Phuwin insisted, jabbing a finger into his chest. "For years, it was stuck in my head, driving me crazy. So finally, I said, 'Screw it, I'm figuring this out myself.'"

"And?" Pond pressed. "Did your little adventure live up to the hype?"

Phuwin rolled his eyes, his cheeks burning. "Meh. Jury's still out, I guess."

"Well, if you need a more in-depth investigation, I'm happy to volunteer," Pond purred, his grin widening as his hands tightened on Phuwin's waist.

"You’re such an idiot," Phuwin said, his voice soft with affection.

They fell silent, the teasing fading into a comfortable, intimate silence.

"I'm glad we're talking about him," Phuwin said gently. "About Dunk. The way he was. Before everything."

Pond's grip tightened, his smile turning bittersweet. "Yeah. Me too. And I think he'd be so happy for us."

Phuwin pressed his hand to Pond's chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heart. "I'm really glad it's you," he murmured.

Pond didn't answer. He just kissed Phuwin, a move so unexpected, so perfect, that it took Phuwin's breath away.

They made out on the couch for what felt like forever, then Pond hoisted Phuwin onto his back and carried him to the kitchen. They threw together a half-assed dinner, even though it was almost nine at night and they hadn’t eaten since lunch.

EPILOGUE:

 

July 4th, Phuwin’s birthday. A day that always brought the unholy trinity of sweltering heat, bloodthirsty mosquitoes, and the over-the-top patriotism of Americans armed with explosives. As a kid, Phuwin had been convinced the whole country was celebrating his birth. Parades, fireworks, barbecues—it was all for him. He’d strutted around like a little king, only to have his bubble burst one particularly brutal July evening. Needless to say, adulthood had humbled him a bit.

This year, though, was different. For starters, the party was at his parents’ place—a weird mix of small-town kitsch and low-key luxury that was both cozy and kinda overwhelming. And then there was Pond. Not as a ghost from Dunk’s past or Phuwin’s guilty secret, but as his boyfriend, partner, lover. Phuwin had moved heaven and earth to get transferred to Melbourne, ditching the dreaded LDR. Now they shared a house and way too many dog-hair-covered blankets.

The party was a weird mix of nostalgia and overly sentimental moments. Phuwin unwrapped the gifts with a mix of kid-like excitement and royal poise, like a prince tolerating his subjects. Then he got to his parents’ gift: a quilt. Not just any quilt, but one stitched together from Dunk’s old band tees.

He froze.

The faded, soft fabric was a patchwork of band logos—Metallica, Radiohead, even ABBA, the great equalizer—a chaotic, oddly beautiful mosaic. His mom fussed, unsure if he’d like it. His dad muttered about how he’d warned her Phuwin wouldn’t want something so sentimental. All Phuwin could do was stare at the shirt, a lump forming in his throat.

“It’s perfect," he rasped, his eyes misting over. He pulled the blanket tight, burying his face in the familiar scent.

Pond was quiet beside him, but his hand found its way to the small of Phuwin’s back, grounding him. Phuwin clutched the quilt tighter.

Later, as the party took a turn and the aunts went into full-on teasing mode, Pond tried to fade into the background. Which, for someone who looked like he’d stepped off the pages of a magazine, was impossible.

"Look at them!" Aunt Ning gushed, wine-flushed cheeks glowing. "Can't keep their hands off each other."

"Seriously, stop," Phuwin groaned, but the relentless teasing showed no signs of slowing down.

“Cute,” another aunt added. “Like, disgustingly cute.”

Phuwin, forever typecast as the cute one—cute little brother, cute sidekick, cute underdog—snapped. Without a word, he hauled Pond in by the scruff of his neck and kissed him. Hard. So much for cute.

It wasn't just any kiss. It was the kind that silenced the room. The kind that made fireworks seem tame. It should've lasted five seconds, tops, but Pond made that sound—a soft, pained, desperate sound—and Phuwin forgot they weren't alone.

When the world came back into focus, his aunts were screeching, his cousins were groaning, and his parents looked like they regretted ever having kids.

Pond, red-faced and wide-eyed, grinned nervously. "Phu, maybe we should... "

"Bedroom," Phuwin ordered, his grip firm on Pond's wrist as he dragged him upstairs.

They stumbled into Phuwin’s old room, still plastered with Interstellar posters and a disturbing number of astronomy books. Laughter bubbled between their breaths.

“Phuwin, you little tease,” Pond groaned, shoving Phuwin onto the bed. “You can’t just—Jesus, Phu!”

Phuwin smirked at Pond, stretching out and licking his lips. "You gonna fuck me, big boy?"

Pond blushed, but it didn't stop him. With a few practiced moves, he shed his shirt, climbed onto the bed, and started undressing Phuwin. Phuwin, meanwhile, was more interested in touching every inch of Pond's torso than in getting undressed.

"Pond," he whined, "I need to touch you."

Pond smirked, shushing Phuwin’s protest. Soon enough, Phuwin was shirtless, and Pond’s nips to his collarbone silenced any further arguments.

Phuwin should’ve seen this coming. They’d had their share of mind-blowing sex, but this was different. Pond knew him, really knew him.

Pond knew how to be rough and tender, teasing and yielding. He knew when to pin Phuwin down and make him beg, and when to kiss him slow and dirty, deep and desperate.

Phuwin whimpered and reached for Pond, who pulled him up into his lap. Phuwin clung to him, as close as he could get, whispering choked-up confessions into Pond’s ear and burying his face in Pond’s shoulder, all while bouncing against him. The creaking bed was the least of their worries.

It wasn’t rushed or clumsy, just them. Kisses turned into quiet laughter, hands roaming over familiar skin, and whispered words that felt more intimate than the physical act itself.

Later, tangled in sheets and each other, Pond traced mindless patterns on Phuwin's shoulder.

"You realize we totally blew off that party, right?" Pond smirked, his voice laced with amusement.

Phuwin snorted. “Worth it. I’ll deal with the mess tomorrow. Or you will.”

Pond chuckled, then his voice softened. "Phu... I love you."

Phuwin froze, his chest tight. He turned to Pond, who met his gaze with open sincerity.

"I love you too," he breathed.

They lay there in silence for a while. Then, Pond reached over to one of Phuwin’s books on the nightstand and flipped it open at random.

“Pulsars,” Pond read aloud. “A star’s heartbeat. Even after it dies, its core keeps spinning, sending out signals across the universe.”

Phuwin tilted his head, eyeing him.

"It's like us," Pond murmured. "Dunk... he was our supernova. He blew up, shattering us into pieces, but... we're still here. Spinning. Sending out signals. Finding each other."

Phuwin didn’t say a word. Instead, he leaned in and kissed him, slow and deep, a kiss that promised forever.

 

 

— Fin