Archive of Our Own

It didn't happen all at once. 

There wasn't a sharp break, no loud arguments, no slammed doors, no words heavy enough to shatter the floor. It was much quieter than that, softer, that kind of silence that creeps in through the cracks. It was really unnoticeable at first, until the room felt cold. 

There was once a time, a time where everything felt...easy...easy for them.

Late study nights, cramped in their shared dorm that felt like the world didn't even matter to them anymore. The floor was a graveyard of textbooks, blueprints and unfinished projects, forgotten somewhere between them as Phuwin sat cross-legged, a sketchbook balanced on his knee. Scattered around him were messy watercolor palettes and half-finished canvases that smelled of linseed oil and imagination. 

Across from him, stayed Pond, who was covered in a different kind of chaos. His side of the rug was covered in complicated circuit diagrams and thick manuals on structural mechanics. He was pretending to study, tapping the pen lightly against the page of his notes as he worked through another equation. His focus was never really on the numbers, his gaze would always drift, always found it's way back to the boy across from him who was lost in his own world.

"Can you stop staring?" Phuwin would mumble without really looking up, his voice was low and honey-thick with sleepiness, but despite that a small smile would tug at his lips.

"I'm not."

"You are. I can literally feel you looking at me."

"Okay fine," Pond would finally give in, dropping his pen and leaning back on his elbows. "You're just distracting. How am I supposed to focus on studying when you're sitting right there?" Phuwin would finally glance up, his eyes were soft and amused. "I'm literally just sitting still."

"Exactly." They would laugh then, it was that easy, that kind of softness that only happened when others were asleep. It had been like that, easy and light.

Some nights the studying stopped and they would end up against the side of the bed, with a single pair of headphones that they shared between them. The music would be soft and low, humming in one ear each as they leaned shoulder to shoulder. They would talk until their voices sounded more quiet, dozing off, without really meaning to. 

One of them would eventually wake up after hours of sleeping like that, with a stiff neck and numb arm, only to find the other still soundly asleep right beside them . In these kind of moments, the world felt small and safe.

At some point, the lines blurred. Hands started to linger a little longer than they used to. The silence would stop being something awkward and it shifted into something comfortable, something that felt full and warm instead of empty. 

And then, without really having to spell it out, they became each other's person.

But then, the air started to thin. Something changed, slowly that it felt like a dream you couldn't really wake up from. The warmth stayed, but the light started to pull out.

The shift started with the deadlines. 

At first, it was just a busy week, the kind where engineering labs and art critiques clashed all at once. However, the busy weeks started to bleed into months. The messages that used to be instant started arriving minutes, then hours late.

Phone calls were the next thing to change between them. They went from long hour late night calls to quick check-ins that were cut short by exhaustion. "I'll call you back" slowly started turning into "I'll call you later," and eventually, it became nothing at all. The silence that once used to feel comfortable and light turned into something that felt heavy and hollow.

Phuwin spent a long time waiting. He would sit with his sketchbook, his phone screen glowing beside him, waiting for a particular name to pop up, which never did. But when they did actually talk, Pond would just keep on apologizing. 

"Sorry, I stayed late at the lab."

"Sorry, I fell asleep."

"Sorry, I'll make it up to you."

The apologies were actually sincere, but they didn't change anything at all. Somewhere in between the long hours and the missed connections, they stopped meeting in the middle. It was like they were standing on two different sides of a canyon, waving at each other, but the ground between them was crumbling faster than they could reach across it.

They weren't fighting, and they weren't angry anymore. They were just drifting apart from each other.

They were still them, but that part that seemed easy was already gone. Now, every interaction of them felt like trying to catch smoke with your bare hands, you can see it, you can feel the heat, but no matter how much you try, it slips through your fingers.

The road stretched out endlessly in front of him. 

Dim streetlights flickered past, one after another, casting quick flashes of light across the windowshield before vanishing just as fast. The only thing keeping the silence from swallowing the car whole was the low, constant hum of the engine.

Pond wasn't even sure where he was driving anymore. He just..drove. Trying his best not to fall apart.

His hands rested loosely on the steering wheel, fingers tapping absentmindedly against the worn leather. His eyes were fixed on the road, but his mind was definetly not there. It was stuck in a place he couldn't get back to as much as he wanted to. It had been like that for days, too quiet.

He exhaled a long, shaky breath and shifted in his seat, the emptiness beside him felt like a physical weight. Reaching almost by pure reflex, he flicked the radio dial. Static hissed through the speakers for a second, sharp and cold before the signal finally caught. 

At first, he didn't really listen. Itv was just background noise for him, something to drown the thoughts he wasn't ready to face yet. He just needed the air to stop feeling too heavy.

Until.. The first few notes hit. It was familiar, soft.

His hand moved instantly, fingers brushing the dial, ready to shut it off before the song could settle into something deeper. But...he stopped. His hand just hovered there, suspended in the dim light of the dashboard.

Because he knew this song. Of course he did. How could he ever forget it?

They used to live in this song. It was the soundtrack of their late nighs, those quiet, blurred moments in the dorm. He could almost feel it again, the weight of a shared pair of headphones, their shoulders pressed together so tightly it felt like nothing could pull them apart.

The melody curled into the space like it belonged there, like it had been waiting for him to finally let it in.

...who knows...

The words were barely above a whisper, but they hit harder than they should have.

Pond swallowed hard, the back of throat stinging. The music was a ghost reaching out for the speakers to remind him of how full that silence used to be, and now how empty it had become.

"... it's just a song," he murmured, his voice sounded thin and foreign against the hum of the engine.

It wasn't. He knew it wasn't.

His grip tightened on the steering wheel, knuckles pressing white into the worn out leather as the next line slipped though the speakers, it was impossible to ignore. He didn't even need to listen to the lyrics to know what was coming next; the melody was already etched into his head, a map of time he wasn't ready to leave behind.

They used to listen to this song together.

Back then it was easy, they didn't even have to speak out loud. They assumed it would always stay that way.

Without thinking, his gaze flickered to his side, to the passenger seat. It was empty.

It had been empty for a while now, but the sight of it still hit him like a physical blow. It didn't feel right. The space was there, yeah, but the person meant to fill that space, the person who belonged there, was gone.

He looked at the road quickly, his jaw tightening as the music filled the silence in the car again. But, this time... this time it was softer...warmer. And because of that, felt more crueler. 

...we thought it would last...

Pond let out a quiet, jagged breath, dragging a hand over his face as he could wipe away the memory. 

Yeah, he thought bitterly. They did.

He tried to force his focus back onto the road, onto the rhythmic flicker of streetlights, on anything that wasn't the sudden suffocating tightness in his chest. He tried to be the engineer, to find the logic, to calculate the distance, to stay steady.

But it didn't work.

No matter how fast he drove or how hard he stared at the horizon, everything circled back. It always circled back to him.

To the way Phuwin used to laugh at absolutely nothing until he couldn't breathe. To the way their silence never felt like a void, but like a conversation they didn't need words for. To the way the best thing he had ever slipped through his fingers so slowly he didn't even realize he was losing it until his hands were empty.

The song kept playing, the lyrics weaving through the cabin of the car like a ghost.

And this time, Pond didn't reach the dial. He didn't try to turn it off anymore. He just let the music take him, driving into the dark with a song that knew him better than he knew himself.

He didn't notice it at first.

The turns turned automatic, a muscle memory his hands hadn't forgotten even if his mind was trying to. It was a familiar path that didn't require any thoughts. Left at the corner, straight past the dim café that always smelled like burnt beans and late night deadlines. He took another turn, one he'd made more times that he could count, driven by a ghost behind the wheel.

It wasn't until the car slowed, until the engine dropped to a quiet, steady thrum that Pond finally blinked. He looked up, and his heart skipped a beat.

He froze.

"..oh."

The place looked exactly the same. The soft streetlights still spilled onto the pavement in the same hazy pools. The empty benches were still lined up in a row, waiting. It was quiet, as if the rest of the world had agreed to leave this one spot untouched, a frozen frame out of a movie they were no longer starring in.

Pond let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. Of course he ended up here. His hands tightened again around the wheel before going limp, the effort of even holding on suddenly felt too much. For a moment, he thought about getting out. He imagined walking over to their spot, sitting down, and waiting. But that thought vanished as quickly as it came.

He stayed in the car. 

The engine idled, a low vibration under his seat. The radio had gone quiet, or maybe the music had just become part of the background noise of his life. Everything was still, too still.

His gaze drifted to the spot where they used to sit. It hadn't even been that long ago, yet for him, it felt like a different lifetime. He could almost see it.. Phuwin sitting just a little too close, their shoulders pressed together like it was the most natural thing in the world. 

Pond swallowed hard again. The memory was too clear and the resolution too high. He could almost hear that soft, huffed laughter, the way Phuwin would say his name with that specific intonation that made it mean more than just a label.

His fingers flexed against the leather. He exhaled sharply through his nose, the sound was harsh in that small cabin.

"...yeah," he muttered under his breath in the empty car. "Bad idea."

Before he could change his mind and stay, he shifted the car into gear. He turned the wheel, the tires crunching over the pavement as the place disappeared from his rearview mirror.

Just like that he drove away.

The apartment didn't feel like home when he stepped inside, it just felt like the larger version of the car.

It wasn't unfamiliar, it felt heavier. Pond kicked his shoes off by the door, and his keys hit the counter with a dull clatter that seemed to echo through every empty room. He didn't bother with the lights, he didn't want to see the space. The faint blue glow from the city outside was enough to guide him, his steps were slow and heavy as the weight of the drive finally settled into his bones. 

By the time he reached his bedroom, he didn't even have the energy to undress.He just dropped onto the bed, one arm thrown over his eyes, staring into the dark of his own eyelids.

For a long time, he just stayed there. Doing nothing. Thinking too much.

It was pure instinct. 

His hand reached out across the mattress, searching until his fingers brushed the cold glass of the phone. He picked it up, his thumb moving with a mind of its own before he could even tell it to stop.

The screen lip up, a blinding white light in the pitch black room. He stared at it for a second, his pulse thrumming in his fingertips. Then, he opened. He scrolled.

And there it was.

Phuwin.

Pond hesitated at the top of their chat. He felt like if he didn't tap on it, the distance between them might stay manageable. If he didn't look, maybe it wouldn't feel as real.

He tapped it anyway.

The messages loaded instantly, a digital history of everything they used to be. There were so many. Random check-ins, late night rambles about art projects and engineering labs, stupid jokes that made no sense but felt like the world to them back then. Voice notes he wasn't brave enough to play. Pictures of things only they found funny.

His thumb hovered, scrolling slowly through the fragments of a life that used to be whole. He didn't read every word, well, he didn't have to, he knew them by heart. His chest tightened, and a soft, breathless laugh escaped him, not because it was funny, but because it was impossible. 

God. They really used to talk about everything. But now, the silence between them was the loudest in the room. 

His fingers paused over a small, simple text from months ago: did you eat?

Pond stared at those three words until they blurred. Then he locked his phone, the screen went dark, and the room felt twice as quiet as it had before.

He let out a long, slow breath, dragging his hand down his face before letting it fall back onto the bed. He knew he should sleep. He needed to. But the moment his eyes, the movie started playing again. 

The bench. The song. The blueprints and the sketches. Him.

Pond turned onto his side, pulling the blanket up to his chin. It didn't help. Nothing really did. After a while, he reached out and grabbed his phone again. He didn't unlock it this time. He just held it tight in his hand, as if that small piece of plastic could somehow fill the empty space beside him.

It didn't. It just felt cold.

The weight of the night finally became too much to carry.

As Pond lay there in the dark, clutching the cold glass of his phone, a single, hot tear finally escaped, trailing a slow path down his temple into his hair. Then another. He didn't sob, he didn't the energy for it. He just lay there in the suffocating stillness, let the silent tears burn his eyes until eventually drifted into a restless, hollow sleep.

The next morning, didn't bring any light.

Pond stayed under the covers long after the sun had climbed. He didn't feel like moving, he didn't feel like existing. The thought of getting up, of facing the apartment, of eating, felt like a mountain he wasn't equipped to climb. He just stared at the wall, watching the shadows shift as the hours crawled by. His stomach felt a lead weight, heavy but not empty.

He wanted to stay like that forever, buried away where the world couldn't see him. But the universe had other plans.

He had promised the guys. A hangout at their usual bar, the place they used to go together. If he bailed now, they'd be at his door in twenty minutes. They knew him too well.

His phone buzzed on the mattress besides him.

Dunk: you still comin'?

Pond stared at the screen for a long time. His fingers felt heavy as he typed back.

Pond: yeah

He forced himself out of the bed, his legs feeling like they belonged to someone else. He didn't look in the mirror, he didn't need to see the wreckage. He pulled on a simple black hoodie and some jeans, the fabric hanging looser on his frame than it did just a few weeks ago.

He moved through the apartment like a ghost, out the door and into the car. The drive there was a blur, he felt lightheaded, his vision slightly grainy, but he managed to park the car through sheer muscle memory.

When he walked into the dim, amber lit warmth of the bar, the change in him was impossible to miss.

Joong and Dunk were already at a booth, but the moment Pond approached, their conversation died instantly. Pond looked horrid. The dark circles under his eyes were deep enough to be bruises, and his face was drawn and thin. He looked like a man who had been through a war and lost. 

"Whoa," Joong started, trying to keep his tone light, though his eyes were wide with genuine concern. "You look like you've been haunting this place instead of visiting it. You okay, man?" 

Pond didn't answer. He just slid into the booth, his movements stiff and slow. He gave them a look, tired glazed expression that said everything and nothing all at once. 

Dunk leaned forward, reaching out as if to check Pond's temperature but stopping halfway. "Pond... seriously. When was the last time you slept? Or ate?"

"I'm fine," Pond's voice was raspy, barely a whisper. 

A server walked by, and Dunk tired to intervene. "Maybe you should just stick to water, or get some food. You look like you're ab out to pass out."

"Beer," Pond cut him off, looking at the server. "Just a beer."

The server nodded and left.

"Pond, come on," Joong said, his voice dropping the playful edge. He looked at his friend's shaking hands as they rested on the table. "Dunk's right. You might actually collapse at this rate, man. You're skin and bones."

Pond just leaned his head back against the vinyl of the booth and closed his eyes. The noise of the bar felt miles away. He knew they were right. He knew he was falling apart. But the beer was the only thing that felt like it might numb the ache, even if just for a second. 

"I'm here, aren't I?" Pond muttered, though he didn't open his eyes.

He was there, but as Joong and Dunk exchanged a a worried glance, they both knew the truth.

The Pond they knew was still somewhere back in that dorm room, lost among the blueprints and the charcoal dust.

How do you tell a friend that he's disappearing right in front of you.  

Pond didn't even taste the beer. 

He brought the glass up, taking a long, mechanical sip before setting it back down. He didn't crave the drink, he just needed something to do with his hands, a way to anchor himself to the table so he wouldn't simply float away. The condensation felt like ice against his palm, but his mind was still trapped in a memory he couldn't escape. 

"...You look like shit," Joong said, It was blunt, but his voice lacked its usual bite. There was no teasing in his eyes, only a quiet, watchful concern the kind you have when looking at something already cracked, just waiting for the final shatter. 

Pond leaned back into the worn vinyl, letting out a breath that felt too heave for his chest. "Thanks."

Dunk frowned, his eyes scanning Pond's face, tracing the deep shadows that no amount of coffee could fix. "'I'm serious, Pond. I know you said you'rre coming, but you're barely even here. You're fading out."

Pond didn't answer right away. He watched a single drop of water trail down the side of his glass, tracing a path through the frost until it pooled on the table.

"I'm fine." 

The lie was a reflex. It was empty and rehearsed.

Dunk didn't buy it. "Don't do that," he said, his voice dropping to a gentle but firm tone. "Don't give us that 'I'm fine' shit. We can see you. We can see how much space there is in that hoodie that wasn't there last month."

That made Pond's jaw tighten. For a second, he wanted to deflect, to blame the engineering workload, or the late night lab. But the energy wasn't there. Instead, his gaze dropped to the table, and just stayed there...silent.

Joong's voice softened, losing all his edge. "You saw him, didn't you?"

Pond swallowed, his throat felt like it was full of glass. That one hit right where the skin was thinnest. He let out a slow, jagged breath, shaking his head just barely. "No. Not really." 

Dunk's brow furrowed. "What does that even mean." 

Pond exhaled, a shaky, exhausted sound as he rubbed his face with his free hand. "I didn't see him. I just- everything reminds me of him. Every street, every song on the radio. It's like he's everywhere except where I actually need him to be."

The noise of the bar suddenly felt miles away, muffled and irrelevant.

"I drove out yesterday," Pond continued, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Didn't even realize where I was going until I pulled up to the curb. My hands just... they remembered the way."

Joong leaned forward slightly. "..Where?"

Pond let out a weak, tired laugh. This time, it visibly hurt. "The park. That spot by the benches."

The silence that followed was suffocating.

"And?" Dunk asked quietly.

Pond stared at the table, his blinking slow, his eyes glazed with exhaustion that went deeper than just lack of sleep. "I just sat there. In the car. For a long time. Waiting for something to happen. Waiting for it to make sense." A pause. "...And then I left. Because he wasn't there. And I finally realized...he wasn't coming."

His fingers curled tighter around the glass until his knuckles turned ghostly white. His shoulders tensed, hunching forward as if he were trying to fold himself. Then his breath hitched, a small, sharp sound that he tired to swallow down. 

Joong's entire demeanor shifted. "Hey-"

Pond shook his head quickly, his eyes burning as the neon lights began to blur into messy streaks. He wasn't ready to let the whole world in, but he couldn't stop the way his chest was finally starting to break.

'I'm good," he muttered, but his voice betrayed him, cracking at the edges.

Dunk didn't move his hand away. If anything, his grip tightened just slightly, grounding. "You don't look good," he said softly. "And you don't have to be."

Pond let out a shaky breath, his fingers loosening from the glass like he didn't have the strength to hold onto anything anymore.

Joong leaned back, exhaling slowly, his eyes never leaving Pond, "Look," he started, voice quieter now, stripped of any sarcasm. "breakups suck. Especially when it's... like that." He gestured vaguely, like even he didn't have the right words for it.

Pond huffed weakly. "That's helpful."

"I'm serious," Joong insisted. "You don't just switch it off. You don't wake up one day and go 'oh yeah, I'm over it.' That's not how it works."

Dunk nodded. "It takes time."

There it was again. Time.

Pond let out a breath that almost sounded like a laugh, dragging his hand down his face. "Yeah. Everyone keeps saying that." He stared at the table, voice dropping. "...Feels like time's just making it worse."

Dunk's expression softened. "That's the first part of it,' and he said gently. "It hurts like hell because it gets better."

Joong added, quieter this time. "But it does get better. You just... gotta get through it first."

Pond didn't answer. But he didn't argue either. He just sat there, eyes glassy, shoulders slumped, like he didn't have the energy to fight anymore.

He didn't remember how many drinks he had after that. One turned into two. Two turned into... he lost count.

It wasn't enough to get loud, not enough to get messy. But it was enough to make everything feel slower. Heavier and distant. By the time he stood up, the world tilted slightly.

Dunk noticed immediately. "Okay- yeah, no. You're not driving."

"I'm fine," Pond mumbled again, but he swayed just enough to prove otherwise.

Joong was already grabbing his keys. "Congrats. You've officially lost your right to say that tonight.'

Pond didn't fight them. He didn't have anymore energy left in him to do that.

The ride was quiet. Pond leaned his head back against the seat, eyes half lidded, watching the streetlights blur past the window. Everything felt... far away.

His thoughts came in fragments. A laugh, a voice, a memory he couldn't quite hold onto before it slipped again.

By the time they reached his apartment, he was barely holding himself up. Dunk slung his arm around Pond's shoulders, helping him out of the car. "Easy," he muttered.

Joong walked ahead, stopping at the door. "Password?"Pond blinked slowly, like it took effort to process the question. 

"...0507."

Joong froze. Just for a second. Dunk went still too. They didn't say anything right away, but the look they exchanged said enough. Phuwin's birthday.

Something in their expressions shifted, it was something quieter and heavier.

"...Yeah," Joong muttered under his breath, more to himself than anything. Dunk tightened his grip slightly on Pond, like he suddenly understood just how deep this went.

They got him inside, slow and careful. Pond barely registered it. The apartment looked the same. Felt the same too. It was still too quiet.

They guided him to his room, easing him down onto the bed. Pond didn't resist, sinking into the mattress like his body finally gave up. Dunk pulled the blanket over him, his movements unusually gentle.

"You're gonna be okay," he said quietly, though it sounded more like he was trying to convince himself too.

Joong lingered by the door, glancing around the room before looking back at Pond. "...Get some sleep,yeah?"

Pond didn't answer. He was already drifting, too exhausted to stay awake. Too tired to kep feeling. 

The door clicked shut behind them. And the apartment fell silent again.

Pond didn't remember falling asleep. 

One second, the world was spinning too fast, the weight in his chest too heavy to carry, and the next moment everything went quiet. It wasn't the kind of peace that comes from rest. It was just abrupt, hollow emptiness, like a candle being snuffed out in a drafty room.

And the.. he's somewhere else.

The air is warm and soft, smelling of crushed grass and something sweet. Sunlight filters through the canopy of trees, golden and slow, dappling the ground in shifting patterns of light. It's the kind of afternoon that feels like it's stretching just for them, a pocket of time where the rest of the world can't reach.

Phuwin is there.

He isn't a ghost or a hazy fragment of a memory. He's just there, standing in the center of the light like nothing ever changed. He looks younger, or maybe just lighter, holding something behind his back. That familiar, shy smile tugs at his lips, the one he always wore when he was about to do something stupid and brave at the same time. 

"What?" Pond asks, his voice sounding steady and bright. He's half laughing, squinting against the sun. "Why do you look like that?"

Phuwin rolled his eyes, a flicker of mock annoyance, but theres a soft pink creeping up his cheeks. "Just- come here."

Pond does. Of course he does. His feet moved without him having to tell them to, drawing him into Phuwin's orbit as if by gravity.

When he gets close enough to see the amber flecks in Phuwin's eyes, the younger boy finally brings his hand forward.

A rose.

It's a deep, bruised red. Slightly imperfect. One petal is already curling at the edge, a tiny flaw that makes it even more real, more special.

"For you," Phuwin says. He tries to sound casual, like it's an afterthought, but he fails completely. His voice has that tiny tremor it always gets when he's nervous.

Pond blinks, his heart doing a slow, heavy roll in his chest. "What's this for?"

Phuwin shrugs, looking anywhere but at Pond. He studies the bark of a nearby tree with intense interest. "Do I need a reason?"

"..No," Pond murmurs.

He reaches out, taking it carefully, his thumb brushing against the velvet of the petals. It feels fragile, like a secret.Their fingers linger together for just a second too long, the heat of Phuwin's skin grounding him.

Everything feels easy, right, like the universe finally clicked back into its proper place.

The memory shifts, blurring at the edges like a photo left out in the rain.

The rose appears again, but now it's sitting on Pond's desk. Days have passed now. It's slightly wilted now, the petals softer and darker, leaning toward the wood.

It was still kept, still important. It was like a relic of a day that felt like it would never end.

Then it fades. The sunlight turns to gray, the warmth of the summer day to a chill, and the trees dissolve into the dark. 

Pond wakes up with a violent tightness in his chest.

The room pitch black. It's too quiet, the type of absolute silence that feels like it's pressing against your eardrums, demanding you hear the things you're trying to forget. For a long moment, he doesn't move. He doesn't even breathe.

He stays perfectly still because the dream felt so real that he can still feel the ghost of Phuwin's fingers against his own. Because for a second, he actually had him back.

His hand shifts instinctively against the sheets, a slow, searching reach toward the other side of the bed, expecting to find the warmth of a body or the soft rhythm of someone else's breathing.

But there's nothing. How could there be something? Only the cold, flat stretch of fabric. 

And that's when his phone buzzed.

It's a sharp and sudden sound. Violently loud in the quiet of his room.

Pond frowns, his mind sluggish and heavy with sleep. He reaches out, his movements stiff as he fumbles for the device. The screen flares to life, the artificial white light stinging his eyes and making him wince.

3:07 AM.

A notification sits at the top of the screen. A name he hasn't seen light up his phone in what feels like an eternity.

Phuwin.

"...are you up?"

And there it is.

That sudden, sickening shift. That moment where every barrier he tried to build, every drink he forced down, and every mile he drove away comes rushing back to the surface, drowning him.

The air in the apartment feels like its being sucked out through the cracks in the windows. His heart, which had been dull, leaden weight, suddenly starts to thud, fast erratic, and painful.

He stares at the words until they blur into white smear against the dark. He should lock the screen, he should turn it over and pretend he never saw it.

But his thumb is already hovering over the glass, trembling just enough to be noticed.

And before he could think, before he could pull back into the safety of the dark, his fingers brushed the screen.

Seen.

The word hit him like a physical slap. Pond froze, his breath hitching in his throat as his brain lagged behind what his body had already done. The message sat there, opened and exposed. There was no unreading it, no way to pull the digital veil back over his head.

"...shit."

The word was barely a ghost of a sound, lost in the heavy silence of the room. Panic flickered under his ribs, sharp and sudden, and he sat up too fast. The room tilted, the shadows of the apartment swirling as the full weight of reality crashed back in.

He's here.

Phuwin is here. Not a memory trapped in a park bench, not a ghost in a song, and not a fragment of a dream. He was right there, a living, breathing pulse on his screen. And Pond had just let him know he was watching.

Pond pushed himself out the bed abruptly, the sheets tangling around his ankles like they were trying to hold him back. He tossed the phone onto the mattress, it landed with a dull thud, looking small and harmless, yet suddenly too hot to touch.

He ran a hand through his hair, pacing the small stretch of floor once, twice and then turned and headed straight for the kitchen. His movements were jagged, driven by a restless, frantic energy. The apartment was too quiet and the air too still, making every heartbeat feel like a drum.

He grabbed a glass from the cupboard, his hand shaking slightly as he filled it with water. He downed it in one go, the cold hitting his throat with a sharpness that finally grounded him. Then another one.

And that's when it hit him. Hunger.

It was sudden, sharp and almost disorienting. Pond paused, his hand braced against the cold marble of the counter, his breathing uneven. He hadn't felt a physical craving in days, not since his world turned gray. It was as if his body was remembering how to exist again all at once, and he didn't know what to do with the sensation.

He let out a quiet breath, dragging a hand down his face before pulling open the fridge. The harsh, clinical light spilled over him, highlighting the hollows of his cheeks. He grabbed the first thing he saw, not even checking what it was, and ate standing right there in the glow. It was quick and mindless, just a desperate attempt to fill the empty space inside him because it was easier than thinking.

Easier than going back to the room where that message was still waiting.

The shower helped, just little.

Hot water scalded his skin, the steam fogging the mirror and muffling the world just enough for him the breathe without him feeling like he was about to crack wide open. He stood there longer than necessary, letting the water hit the back of his neck, letting his thoughts blur into the white noise of the pipes. He let himself pretend, just for a second, that he could wash away the last few weeks.

But reality was waiting for him on the other side of the curtain. It always was.

When he stepped back into the bedroom, a towel hanging loose around his shoulders and hair dripping at the ends, his eyes landed on the phone immediately. It was right where he'd left it. Waiting.

Pond hesitated. Then, he picked it up. The screen lit up instantly.

"...are you up?"

No new messages. Phuwin hadn't followed up. Had he regretted it? Was he staring at his own screen in some part of the city, panicking because of that tiny seen receipt?

Pond exhaled slowly. This time, his thumb was steadier and more deliberate. He didn't let himself overanalyze anything, he didn't give the spiral a chance to start.

He typed: "...yeah"

And sent it. The message was delivered. Seen.

And then, nothing.

Silence. Heavy, stretching, agonizing silence. Pond stared at the screen, waiting for those three little dots to dance, to signal that Phuwin was still there. They didn't appear.

"...right," he muttered, his voice sounded hollow. Of course it wouldn't be that easy.

He tossed the phone back onto the bed, too tired to even feel frustrated. Sleep was a lost cause now. Not with his heart beating like a trapped bird.

He started to move around the room, aimless at first. He pulled open drawers, shifted books, picked things up and put them down. He was searching for something he couldn't name, or perhaps something was too afraid to admit he wanted.

Finally, he reached for the jacket - the one he hadn't touched since that final night. It was still hanging exactly where he'd left it.

Pond stared at it for a moment before reaching out, his fingers brushing over the fabric. He slipped his hand into the pocket, and his breath caught.

Paper.

Slowly, carefully, he pulled it out and unfolded it.

It was a sketch.

It hit him all at once, the memory of that afternoon, the way Phuwin had laughed and tried to hide the sketchbook, blushing and insisting it was "just practice."

Pond sank onto the edge of the bed, the paper trembling in his hands. Phuwin had sketched him. The lines were messy but intentional, the shading soft around the eyes. It was imperfect in the way only something made with love can be.

It was the way Phuwin saw him.

A single drop fell before Pond even realized he was crying. It landed right on the page, blurring the graphite edge of his own jawline.

"...fuck," he breathed, his voice cracking. He gripped the paper tighter, trying to protect it, but the damage was done. And so was he.

The truth settled into the marrow of his bones, heavy and undeniable: he wouldn't forget him. He couldn't. Not Phuwin. Not the one who felt like home in a way nothing else ever did.

Restless energy crawled under his skin. It wasnn't just a breakup. This wasn't "wrong timing." This was a mistake. A massive and devastating one.

He pushed himself up, moving faster now, his heart stuttering. He opened a drawer, shifted a stack of books, and found it, a volume slightly out of place, one page bent just enough to stand out.

Pond opened it, and his breath left him in a jagged rush.

The rose.

It was pressed between the pages. Fragile and darkened. The petals were thin and dry, but they held their shape. It was still there.

Everything crashed back at once, the sunlight through the trees, the shy smile, the "Do I need a reason?"

Every barrier he'd built, every mile he'd driven to get away, every beer he'd downed at the bar, it all drowned in an instant. The air in the apartment felt thin, like it was being vacuumed out of the room.

He gripped the book, staring at the rose as if it were the only real thing left in the world.

"...I'm not over you," he whispered to the empty room. "Not even close."

Across the city, his phone stayed silent. But Pond knew. He knew this wasn't the end. Not anymore.

Somewhere between the drawers being pulled open and shut, between the sound of things shifting, falling, and being moved without any real purpose, his phone buzzed.

Once. 

A short, sharp vibration against the mattress. The stillness again. 

Pond didn't hear it. Or maybe he did, but the noise inside his head was too deafening to let the outside world in. He was too full of everything he'd been trying not to feel, a dam finally breaking in the middle of a silent apartment. 

Hours passed. Or maybe just one. Time didn't really move in a straight like anymore, it looped and stretched, agonizingly slow.

He exhausted himself. That was the only way to describe it. It was a frantic, desperate attempt to outrun something that was already rooted deep inside his chest.

He cleaned. He scrubbed surfaces that already were spotless, the smell of citrus and bleach stinging his nose until his head throbbed. He rearranged furniture that didn't need to be moved, dragging heavy wood across the floor just to feel the strain in his muscles.

He worked out. He pushed himself until his lungs burned and his vision went grainy at the edges, hoping that if his body hurt enough, maybe the ache in his ribs would finally go numb.

He cooked. He moved through the motions of chopping and stirring, but he didn't even taste the result. He left the plate sitting half touched on the counter, the stream rising and then vanishing into thin air.  

Anything. Everything.Just to not think. But it didn't work. It never does.

By the time he finally stopped, his body felt heavy again. It wasn't the hollow kind of weight from before, but a deep, bone-weary exhaustion. He leaned against the kitchen counter, his breath coming in slow, ragged pulls.

For the first time in hours, he looked at the clock.

7:16 AM.

"...shit."

His hand dragged over his face, his skin feeling cold and clammy. Exhaustion settled into the marrow of his bones. That's when he finally reached for his phone.

The screen lit up, and the world simply stopped.

A notification. From him.

"I miss you..."

Pond didn't breathe. He didn't move. He just stared at those three words, his heart stuttering in his chest. He looked at them so hard he was afraid they'd disappear if he blinked. His brain struggled to decide if this was a lingering fragment of his dream or just another trick of his own mind.

It didn't make sense. Not after all this time. Not after the silence and the miles between them.

Why now?

His chest tightened, something sharp and jagged twisting under his ribs. Was it relief? Pain? Hope? He couldn't tell anymore, they all felt like the same burning sensation.

He didn't open the message yet. He just stood there, the phone heavy in his hand, staring at those three words like they were the answer to every question he'd ever had. Because maybe they did.

Minutes have passed. Too many. Not enough.

7:29 AM.

Pond exhaled slowly, a long, shaky breath like he was standing on the edge of a cliff, about to step off into the air. His fingers finally moved.

Typing. Stopping. Deleting. Typing again.

His heart was pounding now, loud enough to drown out the morning birds outside. And then, he finally sent it.

"where are you"

This time, the reply came faster. Not immediate, but close enough to make his stomach did a sickening flip.

"...there."

Pond's breath caught. He didn't need clarification. He didn't need a pin on the map. He knew exactly where "there" was..

The park.

He didn't think. He didn't hesitate. His body moved before his mind could catch up, driven by raw, primal instinct. Keys. Shoes. Door.

Gone.

The hallway was a blur as he sprinted toward the stairs, his pulse racing. His hands were shaking just enough to make him fumble with the lock for a second too long. "Come on-" he muttered, his voice cracking, finally wrenching the door open and hitting the cool morning air.

It was sharp and crisp, but he barely felt the chill. All he could think about was him.

His car was right where he'd left it. He yanked the door open and slid into the driver's seat, but as he reached for the ignition, his gaze flickered , just for a second, to the passenger seat.

Empty.

Something in his chest twisted violently. That was where Phuwin used to be. Every single time. Feet tucked up on the seat, fingers playing with the radio dials, complaining about Pond's driving while laughing at his own jokes. 

Pond gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles were white. "...not this time," he muttered, more to himself than anyone else.

The engine roared to life, and he drove.

The streets blurred past him, the early morning light casting long, dramatic shadows over the pavement. He didn't realize how fast he was driving, he didn't care. At a red light, his eyes drifted again, scanning the cars around him without meaning to.

A blue car passed through the intersection.

His breath hitched. Just slightly. Just enough. Because for a split second, his brain expected it to be him. It was a reflex he couldn't kill. It was never him.

His jaw clenched, his grip tightening until his hands hurt. "...get a grip," he exhaled, forcing his eyes back to the road. But his chest felt tighter now, even after everything, he was still looking for Phuwin in every shadow and every passing window.

The light turned green. And this time, he didn't stop again. 

The park came into view faster than expected, his body remembering the way before his mind could even process the turns. As he pulled up to the curb, he saw it. 

That same spot. The one he had driven to yesterday. Alone.

But this time, he wasn't the one waiting. 

The car barely came to a full stop before Pond was out. 

The door slammed behind him, a violent crack that echoed too loud in the quiet morning air, but he didn't care. His vision was already locked ahead, tunneling through the gray morning light until it landed on him. 

There he was. 

Phuwin.

He was sitting on the edge of that same bench, his posture tense, looking like he'd been carved out of silence. He looked like he hadn't moved in hours, or perhaps like he'd been waiting there for a lifetime, unsure if Pond would actually show up.

For a second, Pond stumbled. His steps faltered, a sharp gasp catching in his throat because seeing Phuwin like this hit harder than any nightmare he'd conjured.

Phuwin looked smaller. Thinner. The soft, healthy fullness on his face had been replaced by sharp, gaunt lines and shadows that seemed etched into his skin. The dark circles under his eyes were bruised looking, heavy and impossible to miss even from a distance.

Something in Pond's chest dropped. Hard.

"...Phuwin-"

His voice broke before he even reached the bench. Phuwin's head snapped up. Their eyes met, and just like that, the park, the city and the weeks of agonizing silence disappeared.

Phuwin stood up too quickly, his body reacting with a desperate, jerky motion before his mind could catch up. He took one step forward, his lips parting as if to speak, but nothing came out. Then, he just broke.

The tears fell fast, sudden and uncontrolled, like a dam finally giving way. Pond didn't think. He moved instinctively, cupping Phuwin's face, his thumb trembling as he tried to wipe away the salt and heat.

"...hey,hey-" Pond's voice was a wreck, shaking and raw. "Don't-"

He stopped. He had no right to tell him not to cry. Not after letting him go.

Phuwin let out a broken, we laugh through his sobs, his breath hitching as he leaned into Pond's palm. "...you don't look as well as I thought," he managed, his voice fragile, sounding like it was help together by threads.

That was it. That was the final blow. A sound left Pond, a raw, cracked noise that was somewhere between a laugh and a sob. "...neither do you," he chocked out.

And then, they didn't hold back anymore.

Pond pulled him in, his arms wrapping around Phuwin's waist like he was trying to fuse them together. He held him so tight he was afraid he'd leave bruises, but he coudn't let go. Phuwin clung back just as desperately, his fingers clawing at the back of Pond's shirt, bunching the fabric in his fists as if it were the only thing keeping him from falling into the earth.

"I'm sorry," Pond rasped against Phuwin's shoulder, his eyes squeezed shut. "I'm so- fuck, I'm so sorry. I hurt you. I lost you, I lost us. I'm sorry, Phuwin. I love you. I love you so much."

Phuwin just shook his head against him his sobs muffled by Pond's neck. "I'm sorry too," he whispered, his voice vibrating through Pond's chest. "I'm sorry I didn't fight for us. I should've- I should've tried harder-"

Pond pulled back just enough to look at him, but his hands stayed locked on Phuwin's waist. "It's not your fault. You didn't do anything wrong. I'm the one who messed up. I'm the one who-"

Phuwin cuts him off, shaking his head again, his expression soft but firm despite the tears still slipping down his cheeks. "You know it takes two to tango, right?" Phuwin said quietly, a small, sad light returning to his eyes. "We're both to blame."

They stood there for a long time, breathing each other in. Eventually, the tears slowed. They sat on the bench, shoulders pressed together, hands loosely intertwined as if testing the reality of the touch.

"I kept driving here," Pond admitted. "Without realizing it. My body just knew."

Phuwin glanced at him, his gaze soft. "I almost didn't text. I typed it and deleted it ten times."

"I almost didn't reply," Pond whispered.

"Figures," Phuwin smiled, a a genuine, albeit weary, flicker of the boy Pond knew. After a pause his voice dropped. "I thought you were over me."

Pond let out a soft, humorless laugh. "...not even close."

He turned fully toward Phuwin now, his gaze intense. "i don't wan't to do that again. The silence. The pretending. I can't lose you like that again."

Phuwin nodded, his eyes searching Pond's. "...me neither. I want... I want to be with you."

Pond's breath hitched. He leaned in, closing the space with agonizing slowness, giving Phuwin every chance to stop him. But Phuwin didn't pull away. Instead, he leaned forward, meeting him halfway.

The kiss started soft, uncertain, like they were relearning a language they'd forgotten. But as the warmth of Phuwin's lips registered, as the familiar scent of him filled Pond's senses, it changed.

Phuwin moved closer, his hand coming up to grip the front of Pond's shirt, pulling him in with a sudden, hungry desperation. He let out a soft moan into Pond's mouth, a sound of pure, unadultered relief. 

Pond's hand slid to the back of Phuwin's neck, his fingers tangling in the soft hair there, holding him steady. The kiss turned deep and messy, fueled by weeks of starvation. It was a frantic exchange of breath and tongue, Pond tasting the salt of Phuwin's tears and the heat of desperation.

He slanted his lips over Phuwin's, drinking him in, his tongue sweeping against Phuwin's in a way that felt like a claim. Phuwin's mouth opened wider, inviting him deeper, his breath hitching in a rhythmic, needy way that made Pond's blood turn to fire. Every brush of their lips was an apology, every flick of their tongues was a promise. Pond felt the hitch in Phuwin's chest and the way his body arched instinctively closer, seeking the friction, seeking the proof that they were finally, finally whole again.

When they finally pulled apart, they were both breathless, foreheads resting together. Pond looked at Phuwin, truly saw him, and he knew he was never letting go again. 

"...come with me," Pond whispered.

Phuwin didn't hesitate. He nodded. 

And this time, when Pond got back into the car, the passenger seat wasn't empty anymore.

The shoes were kicked off at the door, hitting the floor with a hollow thud that was immediately swallowed by the suffocating need between them.

Phuwin stepped into the apartment, his eyes darting around. It was the same space he's spent countless nights in, but it felt hyper real now. The scent of citrus and heavy duty bleach was thick in the air, the smell of Pond's frantic, middle of the night attempts to scrub away the ghost of him. 

Pond turned to him, his chest heaving, his voice a jagged rasp. "Are you hungry-"

He never finished the sentence. 

Phuwin lunged, his body colliding with Pond's like a physical shock. He crashed their lips together, a bruising, desperate kiss that tasted of salt and a month's worth of starvation. Pond didn't just accept it, he collapsed into it, his back hitting the wall as he hauled Phuwin up by his thighs, his large hands gripping the smaller boy's glutes like he was trying to leave permanent marks.

They didn't make it to the bedroom. They didn't have the patience for hallways. 

They tumbled onto the couch, Pond falling back into the cushions with Phuwin straddling him instantly. The kiss never broke, it just became wetter, deeper their tongues battling with a feral urgency. Pond's hands flew to the hem of Phuwin's hoodie. Phuwin shoved his arms up, letting Pond yank the fabric over his head and toss it blindly across the room. Seconds later, Pond's own shirt was gone, discarded as they slammed their bare chests together, the heat radiating off them in waves.

Pond's palms were scalding as they searched Phuwin's torso, his thumbs catching on Phuwin's nipples, rolling and pinching them with a firm, possessive pressure.

Phuwin let put a sharp, wrecked moan against Pond's lips, his head falling back as he arched his spine, his skin flushing a deep, beautiful pink. He wrapped his arms around Pond's neck, his nails digging into the skin at the nape of Pond's neck, drawing a low, guttural growl from the other boy's throat.

"I... I want..." Phuwin gasped, his voice trembling, his eyes dark and dilated with pure lust. "I want to ride you Pond. Please. Right now."

Pond's eyes went dark, his pupils swallowing the iris. He didn't waste another second. He worked Phuwin's pants and boxers down his legs with a frantic efficiency, stripping himself just as quickly. He reached for a bottle on the side of the table, a silent hope he'd never been able to throw away, and slicked his fingers, mixing the lube with his own spit until his hand was dripping.

"Look at me," Pond grunted, his voice thick with a possessive, heavy need. 

Phuwin looked down, his breathy coming in shallow, ragged hitches. Pond reached between them, pressing one finger slowly into Phuwin's tight, heat drenched hole. Phuwin's eyes fluttered shut, a long, high pitched whine escaping him. Pond didn't stop, adding a second, then a third, stretching him with a rhythmic, heavy pressure that had the bed of the couch creaking. The sounds Phuwin was making were filthy, unfiltered hitches, needy whimpers, and the slick, squelching sound of Pond's fingers working deep inside him. 

"You're so tight for me," Pond hissed, his voice a low vibration. "Still mine. Say it."

"Yours," Phuwin sobbed out, his hips already beginning to stutter. "Just... do it. I'm dying, Pond."

Pond positioned himself, his length thick and twitching against Phuwin's entrance. He gripped Phuwin's hips, his fingers sinking into the soft flesh, and guided him down. He entered him in one slow, agonizingly perfect slide that hit the very back of Phuwin's throat.

Phuwin's head fell onto Pond's shoulder, a loud, broken cry escaping him as he filled up completely. He stayed still for a second, his internal muscles clenching around Pond in a desperate rhythm. Then, he started to move.

He pushed up and sank back down, the friction making them both hiss. The hunger from the weeks apart took over, and Phuwin's pace became frantic and wet.

"Ah- fuck, Phuwin- you're perfect," Pond groaned, his head snapping back at against the sofa. He reached up, his hands finding Phuwin's waist to help drive the pace, meeting every downward thrust with an upward surge of his own hips.

"I missed this," Phuwin gasped, his voice breaking as he picked up the speed, his skin slick with sweat. "I missed you so much."

Pond suddenly gripped his waist and flipped him . In one fluid, rough motion, Phuwin was on his back, his legs hosted high over Pond's shoulders. Pond didn't wait. He lunged back in, thrusting deep and restless, his movements hard and unyielding. Each strike was heavy, bottoming out with a wet, slapping sound that filled the room. 

"Pond- wait- fuck!" Phuwin cried out, his back arching off the cushions as Pond hammered into him. The depth was overwhelming, Pond's weight pressing him down, making every thrust feel like it was reaching his very soul.

"I'm not stopping," Pond rasped, his eyes fixed on Phuwin's face, watching every flicker of pleasure break him. "I'm never letting you go again. You're going to feel every second of this."

He increased the speed, his thrusts becoming rough and needy, his breath hitching in a rhythmic, animalistic grunt. Phuwin was a mess beneath him, his hands fumbling for Pond's arms, his voice a constant scream of incoherent, dirty whimpers.

"Harder," Phuwin begged, his voice cracking. "Don't stop, Pond, please- harder."

Pond complied, his movements becoming a blur of friction and heat. The room was filled with the rhythmic thud of skin against skin and the desperate, messy sounds of two people trying to erase a month of of silence with the loudest, most honest parts of themselves.

Pond's thrusts were no longer just movements, they were desperate heavy claims. Every time he bottomed out, he felt the way Phuwin's internal muscles spasmed around him, a tight, pulsing welcome that drove him to the absolute edge.

But it wasn't enough to just be inside him. Pond needed the world to see that the space between them closed for good.

As he hammered into Phuwin with a restless, needy rhythm, Pond leaned down, burying his face in the sensitive crook of Phuwin's neck. He didn't just kiss him, he bit, his teeth grazing the skin before his lips latched on, sucking hard. He wanted to leave a map of his devotion across Phuwin's pale skin.

"Pond- ah!" Phuwin's voice was a wrecked, high pitched thread of sound. His head tossed back against the cushions, his throat exposed and flushed a deep, vibrating red. Each time Pond's hips slammed home, Pond's mouth was there, blooming hickeys along his collarbone and jawline. 

Pond moved to the other side, his breath hot and ragged against Phuwin's ear. "I'm never letting this fade," he growled, his voice a guttural vibration as he sucked a fresh mark right over Phuwin's pulse point. "Everyone's going to know you're mine."

Phuwin''s legs, hooked high over Pond's shoulders, trembled violently with every bruising impact. "I'm yours- fuck- Pond, keep going!"

Pond shifted his angle, driving in with a brutal, tilting rhythm that caught Phuwin's sweet spot with every single strike. The wet, slapping sound of their bodies colliding was underscored by the frantic, messy hitches of their breath and the soft, needy whimpers Phuwin every time Pond's lips found a new spot to claim.

Phuwin's hands scrambled for Pond's biceps, his nails digging deep into the muscle as the friction pushed him over the edge. "I love you- please- Pond!"

He broke. 

Phuwin''s body went rigid, his back arching off the couch as his climax hit him with the force of tidal wave. He let out a long, shattered cry, his eyes rolling back as he came, the force of the release sending hot, white bursts splattering across Pond's stomach and chest.

The sight of Phuwin coming so completely, undone and covered in the evidence of their reunion, was the final trigger. Pond let out a low, animalistic roar, delivered three final, deep seated thrusts that felt like they were reaching for Phuwin's soul.

"Phuwin-"

Phuwin's name was the last thing on his lips as he came, a deep heavy release that filled Phuwin to the absolute limit. He buried himself as deep as he could go, his forehead dropping to Phuwin's shoulder, right next to the dark, fresh marks he'd just carved into his skin. His pulse thrummed inside the smaller boy in thick, rhythmic waves.

The silence that followed was heavy and warm, broken only by the sound of their ragged, synchronized breathing. Pond didn't pull away, he couldn't. He just stayed there, pinned to the boy who was his entire world, feeling the way their hearts beat against each other through the sweat and the mess.

Phuwin's hands drifted up, his fingers weakly tangling in Pond's damp hair, pulling him closer. He looked down at his own chest, seeing the dark red marks already beginning to bloom.

"Don't move," Phuwin whispered, his voice tiny and exhausted, a small, satisfied smile touching his lips. "Just... stay."

Pond shifted just enough to press one last, lingering kiss to the center of the hickey on Phuwin's neck, his grip on his waist finally softening.

"I'm not going anywhere," Pond rasped, the words a final, unbreakable vow. "Never again."

The apartment was silent the air still thick with the scent of sex and the heavy, lingering humidity of their reunion. Pond remained buried in th crook of Phuwin's neck for a long time, his heart gradually slowing from frantic thud to a steady, grounding beat.

Finally, Pond shifted, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to one of the dark marks he'd left on Phuwin's shoulder.

"We should clean up and get to bed, baby," he murmured, his voice a low, gravely.

He pulled out slowly, the wet, slick sound of their bodies separating emphasizing the intimacy of the moment. Pond stood on shaky legs, disappearing for a moment and returning with a warm, damp cloth. He knelt between Phuwin's legs, but instead of handing the cloth over, he began to gently wipe Phuwin down himself.

Phuwin just lay there, limbs heavy and relaxed, watching Pond with hooded adoring eyes. He looked exactly like a pampered princess, letting Pond tend to every inch of him with meticulous care. 

"I feel like a princess," Phuwin whispered, a tired but smug little smile playing on his lips as Pond carefully cleaned the drying evidence of their mess from his thighs,

Pond looked up, his eyes softening as he reached up to brush a stray hair from Phuwin's damp forehead. "My princess," he corrected softly. "The only one."

Pond didn't let him walk. He slid his arms under Phuwin's knees and back, lifting him with grunt of effort that spoke of his own exhaustion. He carried him to the bedroom, where they collapsed onto the sheets, too spent to even think about finding clothes. They tangled their limbs together, holding eachother with a desperate, crushing grip as if the morning light might steal them away if they let go.

By 10:00 AM, the world went black for the both of them.

9:42 PM.

A sharp, rhythmic knocking at the front door sliced through the silence of the apartment.

Phuwin was the first one to wake up, his mind foggy and thick with sleep. He blinked, the room cast in the deep blues and oranges of the city at night. The knocking came again, insistent.

"Pond..." Phuwin said, nudging the heavy arm draped over his waist. "Pond, someone's at the door."

Pond groaned, a sound of pure confusion. He sat up, rubbing his face, his mind struggling to remember what day or year it was. "Who...?"

He stumbled out of bed, fumbling in the dark until he found a pair of boxers and discarded t-shirt on the floor. He pulled on, his hair standing in every direction, his lips still visibly swollen and red. He stepped into the living room, which was a battlefield of their earlier desperation, Phuwin's hoodie was draped over a lamp, Pond's jeans were kicked into a corner, and the couch cushions were half off the frame.

Phuwin followed a minute later, shivering slightly in the cool air. He had pulled on a pair of boxers and grabbed one of Pond's oversized shirts. It swallowed him, the hem reaching mid thigh, but the wide collar slipped down one shoulder, putting the dark, violent marks Pond had left on full display.

Pond cracked the door open, squinting at the hall light.

"Hi-" Dunk started, holding up a bag of steaming Thai takeout. Joong stood next to him, looking concerned. "We were worried you hadn't eaten since the bar and weren't answering your-"

Dunk's voice died in his throat.

His eyes traveled from Pond's birdnest hair down to the scratches on his neck, then back to his bruised lips. Joong's jaw practically hit the floor.

"Who is it, babe?" Phuwin asked, stepping into the light of the entryway, rubbing his eyes and looking soft, wrecked, and very much claimed.

The silence was deafening. Joong and Dunk stood frozen, staring at the sheer carnage of the living room behind Pond, and the Phuwin, whose neck looked like a map of Pond's possessiveness.

"Oh," Joong finally choked out, a slow, devilish grin spreading across his face. "I guess you had...lots of fun."

"Joong!" Dunk hissed, his face turning a bright, frantic shade of red, though he couldn't stop staring at Phuwin.

Minutes later, the four of them were in the living room. Joong and Dunk were perched on the very edge of the couch, looking stunned, while Pond and Phuwin sat on the floor on their knees, the take out bags sitting unopened between them.

Pond looked at Phuwin, his brow furrowing with sudden worry. "Phuwin, are you okay? It must still hurt, right ? Get up, baby, sit on the couch. I'm worried."

Phuwin flushed, shaking his head and patting Pond's hand. "No, no, baby, I'm fine. I want to sit here."

Dunk cleared his throat, sounding like he was strangling on his own breath. "Ahm. When exactly did... this happen?

"This morning," Pond explained, his eyes never leaving Phuwin's face. "We met at the park. We talked. And then... we realized we were being idiots."

"Idiots is an understatement," Joong chirped, leaning back into the cushions and crossing his legs. "I mean, look at the kid! Pond, did you try to eat him alive? I haven't seen marks like that since the National Geographic special on tigers."

"Joong, shut up!" Dunk scolded, though he couldn't stop his eyes from darting to the violent purple marks on Phuwin's collarbone. "We're happy for you. Really. We just... we were prepared to find Pond face down in a tub of ice cream, not...this."

Phuwin let out a tired, triumphant little smirk, leaning his head against Pond's knee. "It was a lot of built up energy. Do you guys want the further details? Since you're so curious?"

Joong leaned in instantly, eyes wide. "Oh, YES! Tell me everything. Start from the car-"

"OMG, NO!" Dunk yelled at the same time, covering his ears. "I do not need to know the mechanics, Pond! I have to sit on that couch eventually!"

Pond's expression went completely blank for a split second. He looked at Dunk, then at the cushions Joong was currently bouncing on.

"Uh... Dunk?" Pond muttered, rubbing the back of his neck.

Dunk stopped mid sentence, his eyes narrowing. "What?"

"Maybe you should've asked that before you sat down," Pond said, his voice dropping into a guilty murmur. "Because we didn't make it to the bedroom. At all."

The silence that followed was heavy enough to sink the floor. Joong's grin froze. Dunk's hands, which had been resting flat on the fabric, slowly began to lift as if the couch had suddenly turned into a bed of coals.

"Oh my god," Joong breathed, his voice an octave higher. "No way."

Dunk scrambled to his feet so fast he nearly tripped over the coffee table, his face a mask of pure terror.

"SHIT! WHAT THE FUCK POND?! COULDN'T YOU SAY THAT EARLIER?" Dunk shrieked, frantically wiping his hands on his own jeans as if he could rub off the mental image.

Joong, however, stayed exactly where he was, a slow, hysterical laugh bubbling up. He looked at his boyfriend and shrugged. "Babe, why are you so dramatic? It's not like we haven't done freakier things before-"

Dunk's head snapped toward him, eyes wide and lethal. Without a word, grabbed the nearest throw pillow and launched it with pinpoint accuracy. It smacked Joong square in the face.

"WILL YOU SHUT UP ALREADY!!!" Dunk yelled, his face turning a shade of red that rivaled a stoplight.

Joong caught the pillow after it bounced off his nose, howling with laughter. "What? It's true! At least they stayed on the furniture. Remember that time in the-"

"I will actually kill you," Dunk threatened, pointing a finger at him while Pond and Phuwin watched, finally dissolving into genuine, happy laughter.

"Okay, okay," Pond said, pulling Phuwin into his lap to protect him from crossfire. "We'll get the couch cleaned. Calm down, Dunk."

"You better," Dunk muttered, though the tension in his shoulders was finally starting to bleed out. He looked at the two of the, Pond looking alive again, and Phuwin looking completely adored, and sighed. "I'm glad you're back together. But seriously... next time, use the bed. For my sanity."

"No promises," Phuwin teased, tucking his head under Pond's chin. "We have a lot of lost time to make up for."

Joong winked at them, tossing the pillow back. "That's the spirit. Now, pass the food. I'm starving, and watching you two realize you're soulmates is hard work."

The living room was a mess of open takeout containers, the smell of spicy basil chicken and garlic rice finally filling the space as they settled into a rhythm that felt almost normal. Pond was meticulously picking up the bits of ginger Phuwin didn't like, dropping them into his own lid, while Phuwin leaned comfortably against Pond's chest, looking entirely too satisfied.

Phuwin took a slow sip of his drink, his eyes gleaming with a sudden, mischievous spark. He looked over at Joong. "Wait, Joong... can you continue what you were trying to say? I'm actually curious. What's the weirdest place you guys did it? I think I need to take notes."

Pond, who had just taken a large bite of rice, suddenly went rigid. He started coughing, his face turning a deep, panicked crimson as he scrambled for water. Dunk flared even worse, he nearly chocked on his spring roll, his eyes widening in pure betrayal.

Joong, however, didn't miss a beat. He leaned back, a smug, dangerous grin spreading across his face. "Oh well... you see... Dunk, listen. They're curious. It's for academic purposes, really. I gotta tell them now..."

Dunk couldn't mutter a word. He was beyond embarrassed, his ears turning bright red as he buried his face in his palms letting out a muffled groan of despair. "Actually," Joong started, lowering his voice like he was telling a ghost story, "it wasn't a weird place, but we did do it in one of the university's storage rooms. The one in the old arts building? Yeah. We almost got caught by the night security. Holy shit, I thought I was gonna die. I was deep in Dunk then-"

Before the sentence could even finish, Dunk's head snapped up. His face was a mask of lethal intent, and his hand instinctively gripped a butter knife from the take out bag. He didn't say a word, he just gave Joong a death look that could have curdled milk. 

Joong immediately threw his hands up in a defensive gesture, though the grin never left his face. "OK, OK! I'll stop! I'm sorry! Put the weaponry down, babe!"

But as Dunk turned to grab a napkin, Joong leaned toward Phuwin, whispering just loud enough for the table to hear. "If you want the real details, let's meet up some time. I have stories that'll make Pond's hair turn white."

Phuwin actually nodded, looking genuinely intrigued. "Deal. I need to know the logistics of the storage room."

Pond stared at his boyfriend, looking completely baffled. "Phuwin... baby... are you...?" He trailed off, unable to even finish the thought.

Phuwin turned to him, tilting his head with a wide eyed, perfectly innocent look, the kind of look that suggested he'd never even thought a dirty thought in his life. "Hm? Am I what?"

Pond sighed, rubbing his temples. "Nevermind. We'll talk later... just the two of us."

Phuwin didn't even blink. He just adjusted his position on the floor, wincing slightly as he shifted his weight. "But babe, I already can barely walk. I don't think I can handle any more 'talking' tonight."

The silence lasted for exactly one second before Joong and Dunk simultaneously spit their food back into their containers. Joong exploded into a fit of hysterical laughter, slapping his knee.

"OH MY GOG!" Joong wheezed, pointing at Pond. "Look at him! He's purple! Pond, you've created a monster!"

"Phuwin!" Dunk gasped, finally finding his voice, though he was still hiding behind his hands. "Too much information! Way too much!"

"What?" Phuwin asked, reaching for a chicken wing. "It's just a medical fact. My legs feel like jelly. Pond is very...thorough."

Pond buried his face in his hands, his voice muffled. "I am going to go jump off the balcony. Joong, please take your food and leave."

"No way," Joong laughed, reaching for another spring roll. "This is the best dinner theater I've been to. So, Pond... tell me. Was the storage room idea better than the couch? Or should I start giving you my 'special' list of locations around campus?"

Dunk threw a discarded napkin at Joong's head. "If you suggest the library again, I am breaking up with you."

"The library?" Phuwin's eyes lit up. "Which floor? The silence must added a lot of tension."

He turned his head, his gaze locking with Pond’s. For a moment, the living room and their friends disappeared. The air between them hummed with a sudden, shared memory, the smell of old paper, the thrill of the risk, and the way the light had hit the stacks.

"Oh babe!" Phuwin exclaimed, his voice dropping into that soft, intimate register he only used when they were alone. "Remember that time in the engineering library on the 3rd floor? Probably one of the best times we had!"

Pond didn't even blink. He didn't look at Joong. He didn't look at Dunk. He just leaned into Phuwin’s space, his voice low and raspy, talking as if they were the only two souls in existence.

"Oh yeah," Pond murmured, a dark, reminiscent smirk tugging at his swollen lips. "When you moaned so loud I thought for sure we’d get thrown out. I had to literally swallow your voice to keep us from getting banned for life."

Phuwin’s eyes went dark, his hand reaching up to tug playfully at the collar of Pond’s shirt. "Damn, you look so sexy with glasses on when you're focused like that. Can we do it again soon? Just like that? Hm? Hm? Please?"

"Yeah," Pond breathed, his hand sliding up to cup the back of Phuwin’s neck, his thumb tracing the jawline he'd marked earlier. "We can even do it now-"

He started to lean in, his focus entirely on Phuwin’s mouth, when his brain finally caught up with his surroundings. Pond blinked, his gaze drifting upward.

Joong and Dunk were frozen.

Joong was halfway through a massive bite of the basil chicken, a piece of garlic rice stuck to his lip, his eyes wide enough to fall out of his head. Dunk was mid-chew on a spring roll, his fork hovering inches from his face as he held a chicken wing in his other hand, looking like he’d just witnessed a glitch in the matrix.

The silence was absolute for three long seconds.

Joong slowly lowered his fork back into the container, a slow, hysterical grin spreading across his face.

"Holy shit, Pond," Joong choked out, shaking his head in disbelief. "Who knew you were a beast? I thought you were the 'responsible' one of the group, and here you are, ready to go for round two- or ten- right in front of our dinner!"

Dunk finally found the strength to swallow his spring roll, looking at Pond with newfound, terrifying respect. "I am never... ever... going into the Engineering building with you again. I don't care if the exam is in there. I'm staying home."

Pond snapped back to reality, his entire face turning a shade of purple-red that shouldn't be humanly possible. He pulled back from Phuwin so fast he nearly tipped over, staring at his friends in horror.

"I- I didn't- we weren't-"

"Oh, you definitely were," Joong laughed, leaning forward and pointing a chicken wing at them. "You were about five seconds away from reenacting the library scene on the carpet. Please, continue! Don't let our 'takeout and concern' stop the Engineering Library 2.0!"

Phuwin just leaned his head back against Pond’s shoulder, looking like the cat that got the cream, and reached for another spoonful of garlic rice. "See, babe? I told you it was a good idea."

The goodbye at the door was loud and messy. Joong wouldn't stop making jokes about the "research" they did in the library, while Dunk basically had to drag him toward the elevator by his arm.

"Call me if you need help with your studies!" Joong yelled as the doors started to close, his laugh echoing down the hall until Dunk finally shoved him.

Pond leaned his back against the door, letting out a long, heavy breath. He felt lighter than he had in months. The weight in his chest was gone, replaced by a warm, buzzing feeling. He turned to see Phuwin leaning against the wall, looking sleepy and soft in that big shirt, his neck still covered in the dark marks Pond had left on him.

"Shower?" Pond whispered.

"Shower," Phuwin nodded, reaching out to grab Pond’s hand.

The bathroom soon filled with thick steam. Under the warm water, they weren't frantic anymore. It was quiet and sweet. Pond washed Phuwin’s hair slowly, his fingers rubbing his scalp while Phuwin stood with his eyes closed, leaning his head against Pond’s chest. They didn't say much; they didn't need to. Every touch, the way Pond’s hands stayed on Phuwin’s waist, or the way Phuwin traced the lines of Pond’s back was a promise that the silence was finally over.

They didn't bother with clothes after. They just dried off and went straight to the bed, sliding under the cool sheets completely naked.

Pond turned the TV on just for some background noise, but neither of them was actually watching. They were too focused on each other. Pond was propped up against the pillows, and Phuwin was sprawled over him, his skin still hot from the shower.

It didn't take long before Pond had Phuwin flipped onto his stomach, his face pressed into the soft pillows. Pond knelt behind him, his hands gripping Phuwin's hips and pulling them up, making him arch his back in that way Pond loved.

Pond was already aching, his cock hard and twitching against Phuwin’s thighs. He reached for the lube, slicking himself and Phuwin’s entrance until everything was wet and ready. He didn't rush. He pressed the head of his dick against the tight opening, circling it slowly until Phuwin started to whine.

"Pond... please," Phuwin whimpered into the pillow, his fingers digging into the sheets.

Pond let out a low, dark chuckle. He leaned down, his chest pressing against Phuwin’s back, his breath hot against his ear. He pushed in slowly, his dick sliding into the heat until he was buried deep inside.

"You were pretty talkative earlier, weren't you?" Pond whispered, his voice a low, gravelly vibration. He started to thrust, a slow, deep, and heavy rhythm that made Phuwin’s breath hitch. "Telling Joong and Dunk all our secrets?"

"Mmm... Pond-"

"You liked telling them about the library, didn't you, baby?" Pond teased, picking up the pace. He slammed his hips forward, his cock hitting Phuwin’s sweet spot with a wet, heavy thud. "Telling them how I looked in my glasses? How I pressed you against the shelves?"

Every word was punctuated by a hard, deep thrust. Phuwin was a mess, his head tossing from side to side as Pond hammered into him.

"You want me to do it again like that?" Pond grunted, his hands sinking into the flesh of Phuwin’s waist to pull him back onto every stroke. "Right now? You want to be loud for me again?"

"Yes! Fuck- yes, Pond!" Phuwin cried out, his voice muffled by the pillow but filled with desperate need.

Pond didn't hold back. He turned the teasing into something rougher, his movements becoming restless and fast. The sound of their bodies slapping together filled the room, competing with the quiet hum of the TV. Pond reached around, his hand grabbing Phuwin's dick and stroking him hard, matching the frantic rhythm of his own thrusting.

He drove himself into Phuwin, wanting to erase every bad memory with this feeling. He watched the way Phuwin’s body shook under him, how the dark hickeys on his back seemed to glow in the dim light. When they finally broke, it was a total collapse. Phuwin came hard, his body jerking against the bed, and Pond followed a second later, his cock pulsing as he spilled deep inside Phuwin, filling him up for the second time that night.

The next morning, the sun came through the blinds, lighting up the messy living room and the empty takeout containers.

As Pond got up to start the day, a thought stayed with him. He realized that the next time he drove his car, he wouldn't be looking for that blue car at every turn. He wouldn't be holding his breath every time a car passed him, hoping to see a face that wasn't there.

He could finally turn on their songs and listen to them until the music was loud enough to shake the windows. He didn't have to skip the parts that used to make him want to cry.

He knew now that he was never "almost over him." That was just a lie he told himself to get through the day. The truth was, he hadn't even been close. He loved Phuwin more than anything in the world.

Pond looked back at the bed, seeing Phuwin still asleep, looking like an angel buried in the covers. He wasn't alone anymore. And he was never going to be again.