Chapter Text
Part 1
Boun stretched as he got up out of bed, running his hands through his over-dyed hair. Grimacing as his fingers got tangled in the rough strands, he finished finger combing it into some style and crawled out of the massive bed. He glanced around the room and sighed. Prem was up early again today.
They needed to talk, and soon. There was something on his mind. They'd been living together for over two years already, ever since the company noticed how much interest the "second lead" couple had received from the boys’ love drama, Until We Meet Again.
It wasn't as if Boun had any issues with it. He liked having a steady income, Prem was a nice guy, even if he could be a bit temperamental. Then again, he wasn't much better. Even so, over the past two years, they had worked most of the bugs out and had really begun to develop a true relationship.
Not the one the fans wanted, but one that worked for them. One that made it appear as if they WERE a couple, but allowed them the freedom to be who they were.
Boun walked naked to the en suite shower and let the cool water pound his body, waking him up the rest of the way. Eyes closed, he patted around for the body wash, and almost squeaked when it was placed in his hand.
"I knew I'd find you here." Prem commented, conversationally. "Ever since they fixed the water pressure, you're spending more time in the water than out of it." He started to strip off his clothes. "I went for a run. I'm joining you."
Boun repressed his sigh. Unlike on the show, Prem was very forward. He did exactly what he wanted. Having a junior like that was exhausting. He simply made room and Prem walked in, sharing the strong stream of water. He took back the body wash, lathered up an exfoliating puff and handed it back to Boun. "Wash my back free of sweat. I'll do yours after?"
His lips twisted as he accepted the puff, and began to wash the offered back. How did he start the conversation? His hand motions were slow and methodical. He paid attention to how his strokes went. First side to side, then up and down, long strokes covering his full back. He had a nice back, not as muscular as his own, but then again, he was younger. They said a body changes every five years. It would be interesting to see what Prem would look like after his 25th birthday...
"Hey! I can wash down there myself!" Prem yelled laughing, as Boun’s hands accidently swept across the globes of his bottom. "Unless you need help there yourself?" His voice took on a teasing tone. They both were not dating. There were no secrets in the house the company provided. Prem was aware that Boun was basically celibate, not even masturbating, unlike himself. Instead of answering, Boun handed the puff back to Prem and turned his back to him. He put his hands on the wall and let the water run on him. It was cooling off more. Good. A cold shower would be even more helpful. "Are we needed on set today?"
"Later." Prem reapplied soap to the puff and started to scrub, shivering as his hands came in contact with the colder water. He reached down and adjusted the temperature. "We're filming all night scenes this week." Boun nodded. After a full year of delay, they were finally doing their part of the story, Between Us.
It wasn't as easy as he thought it would be. No, it wasn't as easy at all. He closed his eyes and fought himself as the puff ran across his skin. There wasn't anything sexual about it.
What was making it difficult was he didn't want to stop holding him, kissing him... or wanting to take it further.
He turned while Prem was washing between his shoulders, so the puff skidded to a stop between his pectoral muscles. Startled eyes met his. "We need to talk, Prem. Seriously."
"Here?" Prem grabbed the bottle and started to squirt more in his hand. "I'll just finish washing up and we can talk." Boun grabbed his hand, stopping him.
"Now. You always run away. For someone who's very confrontational, I want to know why you keep running from me when I tell you we need to talk." Boun pushed him to the opposite wall. "You're afraid of me. Why?"
"I'm not afraid of you." Prem's bottom lip pushed out, full and plump. "I just don't have anything to say."
"Liar. It's been two years, Prem. Two years." Boun sighed and stepped back. "Just don't ruin the drama." He stepped out of the shower, wrapped a towel around his hips and left the bathroom.
Prem dropped into a squat, watching him leave. "Fuck, he's scary when he's being an adult." He closed his eyes tightly, internally patting his back. Opening them, he sighed, softly saying, "You did good. He still doesn't know."
Boun put his head on the door frame from the outside, gently, and also tightly closed his eyes. I knew it, asshole. I knew you were hiding something from me. Sadly, he turned to the closet, grabbed a pair of jeans, and a tee shirt and left the small house.
++++++++++
Prem was slower getting out of the bathroom. He took his time to carefully dry his body and hair. Naked, he walked into the shared bedroom to find it empty. His face fell as he headed to his closet. Grabbing an outfit, he dressed before walking to the kitchen where the two usually ate breakfast together. It was, he felt, the only characteristic that he shared with his role. They both were hungry all the time.
Boun always fed him breakfast since he was a horrible cook. There were only two times before when it hadn't happened; both times after bad arguments. After that, Prem had ensured to settle all fights timely. He couldn't stand being hungry.
He dropped into a squat, stunned that there was no food. No Boun. Nothing. He felt like he had been sucker punched. Was that a fight? How could it be a fight if no one raised a fist? Slowly walking to the chill box, as his mum called it, Prem opened the fancy refrigerator and sighed. No plate, just ingredients.
It was a fight. He didn't even KNOW why Boun was angry. Sinking to the floor, he fought back tears. Boun was right. He raised his right hand and wiped away a tear that escaped. He had to stop lying to himself. He knew the truth. He had known for months and months now.
All those kisses? Even with a full crew, time after time, shot after shot, not stopping when the director called "cut", how could he not know? He didn't even know when his feelings had changed from friend to lover.
He was just a scared little boy, frightened to change his current reality.
What if Boun didn't like him back? What if he did? He didn't bother to stop the tears this time. A good cry was needed.
Part 2
Boun felt the thrum of his motorcycle hum as he slipped it into fifth gear and sighed. Again, that brat dodged. He growled, in tune with his engine and opened up the throttle, dodging in and out of the busy Bangkok traffic, heading to the gym. He seriously needed to work off some of this... excess energy or he would do something drastic.
The script called for a bed scene today. Team (Prem) can't sleep and ends up at his dorm room. They end up in each other's arms. He was too stiff lately. The director had talked to him twice last week, telling him to relax, asking him if they had problems.
Lying was not a good fit for him. What was he going to say? "Sorry sir, but I think I have a problem? Find me someone to screw because I want to fuck Prem?"
He pulled into the parking lot, and pulled off his helmet. His damp hair flopped over his eyes and he sighed. He rubbed both hands over his face, and grabbed his ever present hair tie off his wrist, pulling the long part back into a ponytail. Then he swung his long leg off the bike, and strode into the private gym.
He always kept a “go bag” here, complete with several changes of clothes. Heading straight to the locker room, he swiftly changed into a pair of sweats and a sleeveless shirt before beginning his routine. It was exhaustive. Mindless...
He deliberately blocked everything out except the burn in his muscles, the feel of sweat rolling down his skin, and the need to hydrate when his mouth dried out. His routine always ended up taking the same amount of time: two hours. After he finished the final cool down stretches, the back of his shirt was completely wet with sweat. A small half-smile crossed his lips as he wished he could dump his water bottle over his head. He draped a small damp towel around his neck and just practiced his breathing.
As he leaned against the yoga mirror and drank, slowly rehydrating his tissues, a voice entered his headspace. He blinked, once, twice and again. "Oh. Hi, Ohm. How goes it?" He grabbed the small towel from around his neck and carefully wiped his face.
Ohm crouched down beside his co-worker and took a sip from his own water bottle. "Fine. You've got a big scene later today. I didn't expect to find you here." He leaned back, closing his eyes. He had noticed the stress radiating off of Boun as he worked out. If he wanted to talk, he would. If not, it wasn't any of Ohm’s business.
Shrugging slightly, Boun sighed. "Not a big deal. The last show was a flop, you know." He didn't want to do Even Sun, but money had been tight, especially for Prem.
"Mm. This is different." They sat there for a few minutes, quietly. Ohm finally stood up as Boun kept his mouth shut. His hand reached out and patted Boun’s shoulder. "If you need an ear, I'm here." He was, too. He had his break-out role with Until We Meet Again. "I think I know what you're going through."
Giving a short nod of farewell, Boun watched Ohm walk briskly away. Was it the same problem? Fluke was openly gay. Ohm was truly a great actor, taking every aspect of his role, and fan service, seriously. He had been teased mercilessly for rooming with the gay man, and had defended Fluke, either by deflection or with his fists, although Fluke had been quick to put a stop to both.
Boun shivered, remembering the very private scene he had witnessed in the dressing room. For such a dainty person to stand up to the large, built man – poking a finger into his chest, demanding him to back off, and let him handle his own sexuality – was incredible. It was amazing to see Ohm's head droop, mumbling his attempts at apologies and explanations.
Shaking his sweat-dampened hair, Boun stood up and headed to the showers. It was almost time to head to the studio and finish this crappy day.
++++++++++
Prem waited in hair and make-up, a fingertip thoughtfully in his mouth. After his morning cry, he went out and ran, and ran, until he didn't feel any more hunger pains. Then, he stopped and had a bowl of noodles with a cup of soy milk. It wasn't nearly enough calories for the amount of energy he needed to get through the day.
He knew he looked off. He felt off. He wanted to avoid Boun, since it was obvious that he was done with him. The problem was he didn't know why. Leaning back, he let the make-up artist begin. His eyes closed and his face finally relaxed. His finger dropped to his lap and a big, deep breath escaped.
++++++++++
Boun watched silently from the doorway as the artist worked swiftly and skillfully on Prem, who actually fell asleep. What a child. His lips pursed. He wasn't much better, was he? He entered the room and quietly sat down in the chair next to Prem's, raising his finger to his lips, with a nod to Prem. She nodded and finished his face make-up.
Taking out styling cream, she worked it into his hair, still damp from his shower. Using the blow dryer, she worked it into the classic "Win" style, and then started on the make-up. He tilted his head and nodded. "Thank you." He whispered in English, as the artist was from the West. She nodded and began to clean her tools.
He stood and patted her hand. "Let him sleep." She nodded again and Boun left the room, heading to Wardrobe. The director, New, stopped him and gave him the once-over.
"Come with me." Obediently, Boun followed, wondering if there was trouble. New waved to a chair tucked into a corner of the tiny room he commanded over as his office. There were papers scattered over a desk, storyboards pinned to the wall and various viewing screens everywhere. It was incredibly crowded. New squeezed into his chair and sighed, rubbing his temples. "So, what's going on with you and Prem?"
Hiding his surprise with a blank expression, Boun relaxed and replied, "Nothing. Why?"
"I've known you for a while, Boun. I've watched you both grow as actors." New interlocked his fingers and leaned forward, inviting the young man to confide in him. "I know when something is off. This scene is important. If you can't work out your issues, it shows. He looked like he cried today." New's eyebrow raised. "Did you know?"
"Not my responsibility, New. I'm not his babysitter." Again, he kept his expression blank. He crossed his toes tightly in his sneakers, hoping the chair didn't burst into flames.
"No, not a babysitter." New sighed, rubbing his temples again. "Just a stubborn jerk who refuses to admit he loves a man. Fuck, I hate working with assholes." He waved his hand tiredly. "Get out."
Part 3
The words echoed inside his head, “Just another asshole who can't admit he loves a man.” He snorted and shrugged at the same time. No! That wasn't him. He could easily do it, if Prem would be honest with him.
It wasn't Boun who curled up next to him all fucking night long, wrapping that sweet body all over him, then running for an hour in the morning or taking cold showers. Did Prem think he was stupid? He hadn't missed the first time he woke up with an erection or a single one of them that had poked him since.
No matter how much restraint it took to hold back, to stop himself from sliding his hand inside his boxers and discovering exactly how hard it would go, how it would feel or how he would taste, just before sliding inside him and having him scream out his name for the months of hell he'd been through.
For the pints of his own blood he had to drink from chewing the inside of cheek raw, in self-control as the little chickenshit ran away from him once more.
Boun stood in the hallway, just outside of New's tiny office and closed his eyes tightly. No, it was not him that was the asshole. He was just an idiot in love trying to survive. He turned the opposite of where he needed to be and snuck out the back.
He had one really bad habit and right now, he needed a hit to keep going. There was a member of the lighting crew who didn't mind sharing his cigarettes. And fuck it, his breath could reek while kissing Prem. It wasn't as if he cared about his feelings after all.
++++++++++
A light tap on his shoulder woke Prem. "Hey, Prem?" Fluke called softly as he slid into the chair next to his. He was there to have his make-up removed. "They were looking for you in Wardrobe."
Blinking rapidly to regain his bearings, Prem sighed. "Thanks, Fluke." He pushed himself up out of the chair and looked around. "Have you seen Boun?"
Fluke shook his head, indicating “no,” but the make-up artist spoke up. "Yes. He was here while you slept."
"Thank you." He nodded once to each and slowly left the small room, walking dejectedly to Wardrobe. The first scene tonight was in pajamas, or rather shorts and a tee shirt, over his boxers. He used to wear only boxer briefs but they turned out to be revealing. His lips twisted. Who would have imagined that the lessons from UWMA, and hiding a bulge from the drag community would pay off for different reasons?
As uncomfortable as it was, not to mention embarrassing, he patted the roll of tape in his jeans pocket. So far, it had held up. Every single scene they filmed, he prayed beforehand that it never let go. He didn't want to go on ANY platform and have people talking about the size of his private parts!
They could use their imagination. That no one could ever stop, but seeing an outline was different, especially with the amount of wood he tended to sport in Boun's company.
Never, ever was he going to let it happen! He stopped in the changing room, did a tuck and pull. He taped everything in place, testing it out with jumping jacks and wincing as the hair ripped out of the tape. Nothing popped out.
He sighed in relief as he pulled on a pair of tighty-whities, then the boxers, putting on the shorts and tee. He hung up his street clothes and walked towards the set, where he saw Boun, already there and playing on his phone.
His heart stuttered and so did his courage. His mind flashbacked to the morning and he almost ran, but then realized: he didn't know what had happened or what they were fighting about.
Screw it. Squaring his shoulders, he swaggered on the set, greeting the cast. New, the director gave him a look, as if he knew he was already acting but he didn't have any spare energy left. His attention was fully on Boun.
A grip, who's name he never could remember, caught Prem's wrist. "Hey kid, the director has been calling for you for the last 15 minutes! Move it. None of us want to be here late today."
Prem bowed his head. "Sorry, I fell asleep in the dressing room." His eyes flashed towards Boun, then back to the floor. "Sorry." He walked over to the director. "Is it the same script as you sent us home with? Changes?"
New nodded. "I've already gone over it briefly with Boun. We'll do a dry run and then film. Let's see if we can do a one-shot, hm?" Prem laughed at this, as did several other staff members. He was notorious for bloopers, not with his lines but with his body or facial expressions, since he liked to make Boun laugh.
Sobering, he schooled his face. New wanted a one-shot take. The crew didn't want to work today and Boun was mad at him...
He didn't want to be here either! Fuck it, let the cameras roll and show the damn world what an actor can do.
++++++++++
From the shadows, Ohm watched the filming, leaning against the wall. Next to him, Fluke nestled in next to his on-screen lover. "Have you noticed a difference between them, Fluke?" Ohm's tone was conversational, not prying but his concern was noticeable.
"Prem's very private." Fluke watched as Prem squeezed his pillow and sunk to the floor, anguish written all over his face. "Either his acting has improved or that guy's in real pain, Ohm. Look in his eyes."
"I looked in Boun's this afternoon." His eyes shot around, gauging the distance between them and everyone else. "Do you think anyone can hear us?"
Fluke shook his head. "No. I like this spot because it's overlooked, private." He smiled up at the tall man. "Do you want to help them?"
Ohm leaned back, shock visible on his normally blank face. "No! Whatever they're up to is their business. I just didn't want to start a rumor when I asked a question for my curiosity." He bit his bottom lip. "I really don't know much about your lifestyle, or umm... well, if they could come out like you."
Sighing, Fluke took Ohm's hand gently and held it. "You're making assumptions. We don't know if they are having sex or what their orientation is. It could be that the pressure of the fan service has gotten to them." He squeezed the hand he held and smiled up at the tall, handsome man. "I got lucky with you. I trusted you, even if you didn't understand at first. We need to wait, let them sort out things for themselves."
"It's painful to watch, Little One." Ohm's arm encircled Fluke, drawing him tightly into his embrace. "The things I did, or said were out of ignorance. I never knew that type of humor could hurt until you educated me." He hugged him tightly from behind, resting his head on top. "I'm just grateful you did it privately."
"Your willingness to learn made us a good on-screen couple." A wry smile crossed the tiny man's face. "They will figure out what's happening between them. If not, they're not stupid. You've left a trail of breadcrumbs, and so did I. Eventually, if it is a question of sexuality, they'll ask." He broke free and gave a firm nod. "Everyone always does. Even me, back then. See ya, P'Deeaaaaan!"
A low chuckle broke free. "You brat!"
Part 4
This was a difficult shoot. Boun had no idea what New was up to, with retake after retake. The scenes were not exactly NG (No Good) but he kept saying different angles, or better close-ups. Boun could feel it in his bones that the acting was on point. The pressure was on, since they were also being filmed for behind the scenes (BTS) clips.
Had to keep the fans happy - it was his salary, after all.
What was the director after? His head ached as he crouched for the tenth time on the floor, pretending to wake a sleeping Prem, his arms wrapped tightly around a pillow outside his fake dorm room. He put all of the concerned feelings he had from this morning, waking up alone in their big bed, in his eyes as he spoke his lines.
"Team, I'm sorry." He was apologizing for more, he knew it. He wasn't just "Win" in that moment but also Boun. Sorry for leaving, sorry for not trying harder to communicate. There were times when Boun related too much with his character "Win" and his responsibilities. Right now, he was feeling overwhelmed and also wanted to simply be loved.
The director finally called a wrap to the scene and moved on to the next night scene for the episode. They never shot in order of the series but what the light demanded. They had filmed three bed scenes, one morning and now were moving on to three bar scenes.
The one with Prem and his friends was shot first. The make-up artist actually emphasised the bags under his eyes, making him look worn and dragged out. As Prem talked about the meaning of falling in love, Boun felt his heart break.
This was a conversation that the two of them seriously needed to have. His brows pinched together as he watched from the shadows, peering over the director's shoulder, watching in the small monitor. New sighed. "He's good, isn't he?"
"Mm. You feel the dilemma he's under clearly." Boun stepped back as the BTS person moved closer to record the conversation.
New waved a hand and the guy nodded and backed off. He shot the four friends drinking watered down coke, which they pretended to be whisky. "It's a conversation you need to have, Boun. Before you both go crazy." He reached out a finger and tapped the monitor. "I've done my job for too long to not see more than what is on the screen."
Straightening his back and running a frustrated hand through his hair, Boun met the director's eyes straight on. "It's not me, New. Get that brat to open up." He turned and said over his shoulder, “I'm not needed for a bit, I'm going for a nap."
New shook his head. So it was Prem running from his emotions. Not good. Not good for his health, but damn, it was for his acting.
++++++++++
The final scene of the night. New handed out the scripts and readied them for a quick table read on the set. He had found that they relaxed more, versus just practicing the lines. "Okay, Tae, you start."
Tae nodded and began with the light teasing, starting up with the temple dog lines that most international fans wouldn't understand. Thai humor was almost 100% based on word play, so if you didn't know the language, you didn't get the joke. Prem's character was to play dumb.
As he clued in, he was to stand up and go to the bathroom. New threw in a surprise for Prem. He was tired of the awkwardness between the two young men. It was a BL, after all.
Time for action. Boun's character (as well as Boun himself) had already worked out his feelings. He was ready to fight for what he wanted. He wanted Prem. In this scene, he could show it. All of those pent up feelings, he would let that dumbass know exactly that it wasn't only acting.
Boun was relaxed, as he leaned back in the chair on the bar set, watching New go over the script with Prem. "Okay, so I shoot back my drink, then get up and go to the bathroom?" Prem asked, smoothly hiding his nerves but Boun caught it, since he knew him so well now.
It still wasn't easy to be so open on camera. Your body reacted and it was... hard, in more ways than the obvious. Calming not just your penis, but your breathing and your voice back to normal. One day, Boun would find out how Prem dealt with his erections. He knew how he dealt with his.
"Oh, yes, New. I got it. I just get up and follow. I don't say anything." Boun rolled his eyes at how calm Prem spoke. What was his problem with being honest? Never mind that... what the fucking hell why were they both playing games like little children right now? He sighed and shifted restlessly in the chair, waiting for the cameras to roll.
That part of the shooting went smoothly. The BTS person was very pleased, interviewing Tae, Art and Ryu happily. All the while Boun couldn't stop thinking about the script rewrite. Why did they add back in the bathroom scene? It had been written out because of content and time.
It was then Boun clued in to why it was added. Clever New, having the script rewritten so it was appropriate, yet spicy enough. It forced Team to either accept or reject him yet again. This time, the focus would be solely on Team. Strangely, Prem kept forcing them to practice the kissing angles, testing his patience.
++++++++++
Prem had to delay this as long as possible. He had to!
He wasn't ready... emotionally. To feel Boun's hands on him, his lips against him. No, he had to initiate the kiss after New explained the revised script. It was his fantasy... coming true. For months, he'd been visualizing this scenario happening after every event.
Well, not exactly this, but something close enough to this. Boun approaching him, pushing him someplace private and having his way... Oh, blood was rushing to places where it shouldn't be! Delay! Delay... delay, it's the only thought he had right now.
"Enough!" New snapped, "Positions!"
The clapboard clicked, "Take One" the girl yelled. Prem said his line, heard Boun's reply, backed against the frame of the bathroom stall. His eyes went wide. That wasn't acting, he'd swear by it. Boun's eyes were black, solidly black as his head came close and he said quietly, "Can I?"
Momentarily freezing, Prem searched his face then leaned forward and kissed him on the lips, just a peck. Electricity shot between them. Boun took advantage, capturing his lips, and swinging him into the stall, shutting the door behind them.
The kiss didn't end immediately. Prem's mouth was thoroughly plundered before they parted. It was the knock on the door, and New's voice that stopped them. "Guys? We need to do another retake."