Chapter Text
The camera light clicked off, and the bright, exhausting smiles on their faces vanished instantly.
Another promotional event was done. The staff was busy packing up equipment, and the other GMMTV actors were mingling, laughing, and unwinding. Pond stood near the edge of the stage, a bottle of water gripped tightly in his hand. His knuckles were slightly white.
He wasn’t angry at the fans, or the staff, or the job. He was looking at his partner.
Phuwin was currently buried in a massive hug from Perth, who was lifting him slightly off the ground while Santa laughed nearby. A minute later, Phuwin was leaning comfortably against Fourth’s shoulder, scrolling through someone's phone, letting Fourth wrap an arm carelessly around his waist.
Phuwin was a naturally affectionate person with his friends. Everyone knew it. Everyone got a piece of it.
Except Pond.
Just twenty minutes earlier, during the live game segment, Pond had reached out to brush a stray lock of hair from Phuwin’s forehead. Phuwin had flinched—subtly, professionally, but noticeably—tilting his head just enough out of reach. Later, when Pond tried to rest his hand on Phuwin’s thigh under the table, Phuwin had gently but firmly taken his wrist and moved it away.
“Not in front of the cameras, Phi,” Phuwin had whispered, his voice tense.
Pond had understood. At first. They had agreed to keep boundaries, to not feed the shipping culture too much with real, raw emotions, to protect whatever it was they were building behind closed doors. But lately, "not in front of the cameras" had bled into "not in public, period."
And watching Phuwin melt into everyone else’s space while treating Pond like a radioactive hazard was finally breaking something inside him.
Pond didn’t wait for the group dinner. He grabbed his bag, slipped out of the venue, and went straight back to their shared apartment.
An hour later, the front door clicked open. Phuwin walked in, looking exhausted but soft in his oversized hoodie. He kicked off his shoes and smiled when he saw Pond sitting on the couch.
"Hey," Phuwin said, walking over. He reached down to ruffle Pond’s hair. "You left early. Are you feeling okay?"
Pond didn't move. He didn't lean into the touch. "I'm fine."
Phuwin’s hand stalled. He frowned slightly, picking up on the heavy atmosphere. "You don't sound fine. Did something happen at the event?"
Pond looked up, his dark eyes fixed on Phuwin’s face. "Why did you pull away from me today?"
Phuwin blinked, caught off guard. "What? When?"
"During the live. I tried to fix your hair. You dodged me," Pond said, his voice flat, devoid of its usual warmth. "And under the table. You wouldn't let me hold your hand."
Phuwin sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as he sat on the opposite end of the couch. "Pond, we talked about this. The fans dissect everything. If we give them too much, it gets out of hand. I’m just trying to keep a boundary so we can have something for ourselves."
"A boundary," Pond repeated. He let out a dry, humorless laugh. "Right. A boundary."
"What is that supposed to mean?" Phuwin's tone sharpened defensively.
"It means I'm tired of being the only person on this planet who isn't allowed to touch you in public, Phuwin."
The accusation hung heavily in the air. Phuwin stared at him, stunned. "That’s not fair. I'm professional—"
"Professional?" Pond stood up, towering over the couch, his frustration finally spilling over. "Perth had his arms wrapped around you for ten minutes after the show. You were practically sitting on Fourth's lap. Gemini was clinging to your arm during the interviews. You don't set 'boundaries' with them."
"Because they're my friends!" Phuwin stood up too, his chest heaving. "People don't look at me and Perth and assume we're sleeping together! They do with us! Don't you get it? The stakes are different for you and me!"
"I get the stakes, Phuwin!" Pond snapped, stepping closer, his voice cracking with an emotion he’d been suppressing for months. "But do you have any idea what it feels like? To watch the person I love comfort everyone else, hug everyone else, be soft with everyone else—and then turn into ice the second I breathe too close to him?"
Phuwin froze. The anger in his eyes melted into sudden, stark realization.
"I have to watch myself around you constantly," Pond continued, his voice dropping to a raw, painful whisper. "I have to pretend I don’t want to hold your hand. I have to pretend I don’t care when you pull away from me like my touch disgusts you. I’m your boyfriend, Phuwin. But in public, I feel like a stranger who isn't allowed within three feet of you."
Phuwin looked like he had been struck. He reached out automatically. "Pond... no. It’s not like that. Your touch doesn’t disgust me."
"Then why do you do it?" Pond asked, looking genuinely exhausted. He stepped back, avoiding Phuwin’s hand. "Why am I the only one who gets locked out?"
Phuwin had tried to defend himself, citing professionalism, boundaries, and protecting their privacy. But Pond had simply shaken his head, grabbed a pillow and a blanket, and walked into the guest bedroom.
And that was where the wall went up.
*
Phuwin woke up hoping the morning would bring a reset. It didn’t.
When he walked into the kitchen, Pond was already up, making coffee. Usually, Pond would automatically pull Phuwin into his chest, dead-weight and sleepy, kissing the crown of his head.
Today, Pond didn't even look up. He poured his coffee, rinsed the spoon, and walked past Phuwin into the living room without a word.
"Pond?" Phuwin called out, his voice small.
"I have an early meeting at the company," Pond said, his tone entirely polite, completely professional, and utterly devoid of warmth. "I'll see you at the photoshoot later."
At the photoshoot, Pond was flawless. When the photographer yelled, "Look at each other like you're in love!" Pond’s eyes softened instantly, holding Phuwin with a gaze so intense it made Phuwin’s heart ache. But the exact second the photographer yelled, "Cut! Good job!" Pond’s eyes went completely blank. He stepped away from Phuwin before the staff could even approach with touch-up makeup.
He didn't touch Phuwin once for the rest of the day.
By the fourth day, the silence was suffocating. They still had to share a car to schedules, but Pond spent the entire time with his AirPods in, staring out the window.
Phuwin tried to bridge the gap. During a break at a dance practice, Phuwin walked over and offered Pond a bottle of his favorite sports drink. "Here. You look tired, Hia."
Pond took the bottle. "Thanks." He didn't look Phuwin in the eye. He took a sip, set it down, and immediately stood up to walk over to Gemini and Fourth, striking up a casual, laughing conversation.
Phuwin sat alone on the practice room floor, the plastic bottle of his own drink crinkling under the tight, trembling grip of his hand.
That night, Phuwin knocked on the guest bedroom door. It opened a crack. Pond looked at him, his face an unreadable mask.
"Can we please talk?" Phuwin begged, his throat tight. "Please, Pond. It’s been four days. You're killing me."
"I don't have anything to say right now, Phuwin," Pond said quietly. "I'm just doing what you wanted. Keeping boundaries."
The door closed softly in Phuwin's face. Phuwin slid down against the wood, burying his face in his knees, crying silently in the dark hallway.
The breaking point didn't happen in private. It happened at a major GMMTV company event.
Phuwin was miserable, emotionally drained, and running on barely any sleep. He was sitting on a couch backstage, surrounded by the usual chaos. Perth walked over, sensing Phuwin’s low energy, and immediately dropped onto the couch, throwing a heavy arm around Phuwin’s shoulders and pulling him into a side-hug. "Our little Phuwin looks sad today. What's wrong?"
Usually, Phuwin would lean into it, or lean against Perth's shoulder.
But across the room, Pond was watching. He was leaning against a table, talking to Dunk. His eyes met Phuwin’s over Perth’s shoulder. There was no anger in Pond’s eyes anymore—just a cold, detached indifference. It was the look of someone who had completely given up.
A wave of absolute panic hit Phuwin.
He violently flinched away from Perth, pushing his arm off. "Don't," Phuwin snapped, his voice sharper than intended.
Perth blinked, completely shocked. "Woah, okay. Sorry, Phu."
Phuwin didn't answer. He stood up, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps. He looked back at Pond, but Pond had already turned his back, returning to his conversation with Dunk like nothing had happened.
When they got back to the apartment on the seventh night, the tension reached its absolute boiling point. Pond walked straight toward the guest bedroom, but Phuwin grabbed his wrist.
Pond stopped. He didn't pull away, but he didn't turn around either. He just stood there, looking down at Phuwin’s hand on his wrist.
"Let go, Phuwin. I'm tired."
"No!" Phuwin sobbed, the sound tearing out of his chest. He forced his way in front of Pond, grabbing the front of Pond's shirt with both hands. His face was blotchy, his eyes red and swollen. "No, I won't let go! It's been a week, Pond! A whole week! You haven't looked at me, you haven't touched me, you treat me like I'm a ghost in our own home!"
Pond’s jaw clenched. "I’m just giving you what you asked for. You don't want me touching you. You don't want people to see. I'm making it easier for you. Now you don't have to worry about flinching away from me anymore."
"I flinched because I'm terrified!" Phuwin screamed, tears streaming down his face, his hands shaking violently against Pond's chest. "I'm terrified because with Perth, or Fourth, or anyone else... it doesn't mean anything! It’s just noise! But with you... if I let myself lean into you, if I let myself hold your hand, I’m afraid I won't be able to hide how much I love you! I'm afraid everyone will see right through me!"
Pond froze. The cold facade he had maintained for seven long days cracked, just a little.
"It’s easy to hug them because there's nothing at risk," Phuwin whispered, his voice breaking completely as his forehead dropped against Pond's chest. He was entirely defenseless, trembling from head to toe. "With you, everything is at risk. I thought... I thought if I kept a strict line, I was keeping us safe. I didn't mean to make you feel like a stranger. I'm sorry. Hia, please... I'm so sorry. Don't look at me like you don't love me anymore. It's killing me."
Pond stood rigid for a long, agonizing second. He looked down at the boy wrapped around him—the boy who usually carried himself with so much pride, so much sharp intelligence, now completely shattered on the floor of their apartment.
The week of anger, resentment, and hurt inside Pond suddenly felt incredibly heavy. He didn't want to carry it anymore.
With a deep, shaky sigh, Pond’s arms finally moved. He wrapped them around Phuwin’s waist, pulling him in so tightly that the air left Phuwin’s lungs. He buried his face in Phuwin’s soft hair, gripping him like he was trying to stitch them back together.
"You're an idiot," Pond choked out, his own voice thick with unshed tears. "You absolute idiot."
Phuwin clutched at the back of Pond's shirt, sobbing into his neck. "I know. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."
"The only thing hurting us is you pushing me away," Pond murmured, tightening his grip until there was no space left between them. "We don't have to make out on stage, Phuwin. But stop hiding me. Let me hold your waist. Let me fix your hair. Let me be your person, even when people are watching."
Phuwin nodded frantically against his neck. "Okay. Okay, I promise. Just don't leave me outside anymore."
Pond pulled back just enough to capture Phuwin’s lips. The kiss was desperate, messy, and filled with the pent-up longing of seven days of starvation. It tasted like saltwater and forgiveness, a slow grounding rhythm after a week of pure chaos.
The next day, at a crowded brand event, the cameras caught a moment that immediately went viral: Pond reached over to adjust the collar of Phuwin's jacket. Phuwin didn't flinch. Instead, he leaned directly into the touch, closing his eyes for a brief second as Pond's fingers brushed his neck, before looking up at his boyfriend with a soft, completely uncovered smile that belonged to no one else.