Chapter 1: Another Night, Another Life
Summary:
They said keeping things quiet would protect what they had.
But silence doesn’t shield you from loneliness.The pressure of Pau’s career begins to weigh heavy.
Marni’s patience is wearing thin.
And a quiet night in the car becomes anything but.Sometimes love doesn't break all at once.
Sometimes it fractures — slowly, painfully — until someone finally walks away.
Notes:
I'm on X if you want to engage: @luna_in_limbo :))))
Chapter Text
🎧 FOR THE MOOD:
💿 FULL MIXTAPE:
Pau hated the way her voice shook when she spoke. Hated more that it was his fault.
“You think that I don’t care,” he muttered.
“No,” Marni said, wiping her eyes. “I think you’re too much of a coward to care out loud.”
The words hung between them. Feeling sharp and almost final.
But maybe this was always how it would end.
Some months into Pau and Marni’s relationship— hidden from the world because of his career as an idol— the cracks had already begun to show. They met at a coffee shop near his agency. She knew their group, listened to some of their songs, but never fawned over him. She liked his easy smile, soft, like he couldn’t hurt a fly.
Pau liked the strength behind her quiet gaze, like her eyes carried important secrets only available to those in her orbit. In some way or another, during those early times, Pau felt a need to be seen by those eyes. It felt like a validation that was missing from his life.
A few weeks of hanging out turned into something official. He was trying to build something real in a world where nothing lasted. He wasn’t sure if that was what he needed, but it did feel that it was right. Marni understood. She was intrigued at first, then braced herself for the inevitable storm.
But the pressures of his career grew heavier—endless schedules, relentless media scrutiny, and the fear of losing everything in a single headline. Slowly, the once quiet understanding turned into late-night arguments whispered through phone screens and tearful goodbyes at dimly lit parking lots.
He told her she doesn’t understand what it means to live for the fans, for the image, for the dream he's been building his whole life. She told him he didn’t understand what it meant to be left behind.
Maybe both of them were right. Maybe both of them were wrong.
The clock ticks past midnight in Marni’s small room. Pau stands by the door, his jacket clutched a little too tightly in his hand. Marni sits on the couch, arms crossed, holding back tears threatening to fall again.
“So that’s it? You're leaving again,” she says.
Pau responds, quietly and tired. “I have rehearsals at 7. You know that.” Marni’s looking at him like he’s failed her again. He thinks maybe he has.
She bitterly laughs. The kind of laugh that stings because you know it used to be warm.
“It’s always rehearsals. Or recordings. Or meetings. When is it ever us, Pau?”
Pau closes his eyes for a second. God, he doesn’t want to leave. But what choice does he have?
Pau finds himself with his voice rising slightly. “This is my life, Marni! I can't just drop everything because you’re upset.”
The lilt in Pau’s voice numbed Marni.
“I’m not just upset, Pau. I'm exhausted. I'm tired of being your secret. Of hiding. Of pretending I’m okay when you walk past me like I’m nobody.”
Pau, frustrated, runs a hand through his hair. Her words cut deeper than the worst online hate he’s ever read. “Do you think this is easy for me? Every day I’m scared someone’s going to find out and everything I worked for will be gone.”
“And what about what we worked for? Doesn’t that matter?” Marni replies. Sharply. Firm.
He starts to sound even more defensive.
“This again? How many times do we have to talk about this? Of course it matters! When will you understand the pressure I’m under? The expectations? You know the people want a perfect illusion.”
Pau knows she deserves so much more than someone who can only love her in secret.
Marni’s voice starts to break.
“Oh Pau, I don’t understand? Really, now? And what am I? A mistake? An inconvenience?”
Pau softens at this. It pains him too.
“No. Never. But... I.. I can't be who you need me to be right now.”
Marni’s face crumples.
“..And I can’t keep being what you hide,” she whispers into the small space in between them.
There’s a long silence. The weight of their words hangs in the air.
“Maybe... maybe we need time,” Pau says, barely audible. Like if the volume was lower, it would prevent the inevitable. It feels a lot like drowning. This isn’t how their story was supposed to end.
Marni fights the tears racing down both sides of her cheek. “I hate that this is the only way.”
Pau nods. He steps closer, his voice shaking. The weight in his chest feels heavier than anything he’s carried on stage. “When the time’s right... when it’s safer... maybe we’ll find our way back.”
Both of them know it’s a weak promise, but it’s all he can give her now.
Marni softly nods, wiping her eyes. “Maybe.”
He hesitates at the door, looks back one last time. She forces a small smile through the tears. And just like that, he leaves. The door closes softly, but the silence feels deafening.
Pau sits alone in the driver’s seat of his car. The city outside is still buzzing — horns, footsteps, distant laughter —but in here, it’s dead quiet save for the slow humming of the A/C. His hands rest on the steering wheel, unmoving. The keys dangle loosely, but he hasn’t started the engine yet.
The door closed. He left. But why does it feel like he’s left everything that mattered behind that door?
He drops his head onto the steering wheel with a soft thud, breath coming out shaky and uneven. He bites down hard on his lip to keep it together, but it’s no use.
The tears slip out anyway.
God, he promised himself he wouldn’t cry. But it hurts more than anything.
And then, like some cruel replay, her voice echoes in his mind—soft and tired, but trying so hard to be brave.
He remembers what happened some weeks ago, on her balcony, quiet and hidden from the world. She’s leaning against the railing, hugging her knees to her chest. The city lights glowed behind her, but she was looking straight at him.
“I’ve always understood, Pau. From the beginning, I knew what I was getting into,” Marni says quietly.
She pauses, voice cracking just a little. “But sometimes... it feels like I’m the only one left fighting for us.”
He stayed silent then. What could he say? That she was wrong? She wasn’t. He kissed her forehead and changed the subject like the coward that he is. Just like she said.
Pau is jolted back to the present by how hard he realizes he has gripped the steering wheel.
She was right. She was always right.
She understood him better than he ever understood her.
And now he’s done the one thing he promised he never would. He gave up. Stopped fighting. He was never good with promises.
He leans back against the headrest, staring up at the ceiling of his car like it has answers. His chest aches like it’s caving in on itself.
He wonders if she’s crying too right now. If she hates him as much as he does himself.
He wonders if he even deserves another chance when the time finally feels right.
He wipes his face with the sleeve of his jacket. He has rehearsals in a few hours. Fans waiting. Cameras flashing.
He prepares to have no one see this part of him. The part that lost the one thing that was real.
Thinks he’ll carry it. Quietly. Like with all the pressures and expectations they have of him.
Until maybe one day, if life is kinder, if it were to be, he can find his way back to her.
“Wait for me a little longer, Marni. Please.” Pau quietly mutters under his breath. He starts the engine.
Another night of his other life.
Chapter 2: Break Down
Summary:
The stage is bright. The crowd is loud. The choreography is perfect.
And still, Pau breaks.In the middle of everything, grief cuts through the spotlight. His body keeps moving, but his heart doesn’t make it to the end of the song.
And when he runs off stage — again — there’s only one person who finds him.Sometimes, you need someone who already knows what you’re too tired to say.
Sometimes, even that isn’t enough.
Notes:
I'm on X if you want to engage: @luna_in_limbo :)))
Chapter Text
🎧 FOR THE MOOD:
I DON'T WANNA BE OK WITHOUT YOU - Charlie Burg
💿 FULL MIXTAPE:
Pau walks in to the rehearsal studio at 1:00 PM like nothing’s wrong. He always does. He hopes, somehow, to forget— just a little— within the bright lights and the cold floors. In the familiar faces who smile at him. If only they knew better.
Someone gives him a fist bump. Another mutters a tired joke about needing coffee. His members laugh, a bit anxious about the show but present, and Pau laughs with them. He knows how to fake it. He’s done it a hundred times before.
But today, it feels heavier. Like his skin doesn’t quite fit right.
The music starts, and his body moves on autopilot—step, step, spin, reach, smile. Lyrics tumble out of his mouth, perfectly timed, perfectly pitched.
But they feel empty.
“Do it, make it, dive into the mission, mm
Never stop until you see the vision, uh
Failure is a winner by permission
Dreams come true, it's a matter of decision, uh (Decision, uh)”
The line hits his chest like a punch. He stumbles, just slightly. Nobody notices. He shakes it off. Focus, Pau. Just finish the set.
Hours pass. Choreography drilled into the ground. His throat raw from singing. They joke during water breaks, poke fun at each other’s missteps. Life, as usual. If only they knew better.
There’s frantic activity behind the stage, people busy fixing up their wardrobe, their make-up, their hair. They can hear the sound from here, thousands of people excited, their voices collectively booming. The show starts in five minutes, their team advises through his in-ear monitors.
Will she be here? Will she.. He stops the thought before it blooms.
Focus, Pau. He bows his head and twists his neck.
***
They finally take the stage. Lights explode in his face, blinding and welcome. Momentarily distracting him from the ache in his chest. The crowd screams his name. Phones are raised, capturing the perfect moment, the perfect idol.
He smiles. Waves. Takes his mark. They greet everyone. If only they knew better.
The intro plays and they start to sing. And then it’s his cue.
"Oh God, I hate this
Every time I close my eyes, all I see is your face
And I miss your kiss, the warmth, I'm in bliss
I feel the pain and it's insane, help me, won't you take this..”
His voice breaks. Not from strain, but from everything he can’t hold in anymore.
Suddenly, the stage feels like a cage. The faces blur. The music keeps going, but he can’t.
The words die in his throat. His chest tightens. His vision swims.
For a moment, all he sees is her.
Marni, sitting alone in that apartment. Crying. Waiting. Fighting alone.
What am I doing here?
He drops the mic. Hands trembling, breath ragged.
The crowd gasps, confused. The band keeps playing for half a beat longer before they falter.
His members exchange worried looks.
Pau turns and runs off stage. He always runs.
No explanation. No apology. Just the sound of his footsteps echoing down the empty backstage hall.
He stumbles backstage, collapsing against the cold concrete wall. He buries his face in his hands.
The tears finally spill over, violent and unstoppable. He gasps for air, but it feels like he’s drowning. It’s never enough. He will never be enough. He always runs.
For the first time, the cameras aren’t watching.
And for the first time, he doesn’t know how to put himself back together.
***
Pau hears the backstage door click open softly, and then the sound of footsteps. No announcement, no knocking.
It’s Josh. Of course it’s Josh.
He leans against the frame, arms crossed, a small smile playing on his lips.
“Well... it looks like you’ve really outdone yourself this time,” Josh say—lightly teasing, concern flickering behind his feline-like eyes.
Pau doesn’t look up. His head stays buried in his hands, fingers tangled in his hair.
“Don’t start,” he says hoarsely. hoar
Josh walks over, plops down beside him on the cold floor, close enough for comfort but not suffocating.
“Hey, someone’s gotta. Can’t leave you here wallowing in misery for hours, right?” Silence stretches between them for a beat.
Josh watches Pau— this hulking figure, now reduced to a mess of snot, tears, and shaking hands. He surveys the damage with quiet understanding. Pau hadn’t said anything. He didn’t need to. Josh already knew.
Marni.
“It hurts, doesn’t it?” he says softly.
Pau lets out a breath that’s more like a sigh dragged across broken glass.
“I couldn’t finish the song, Josh. I’m sorry. I thought I could handle it.”
Josh laughs, gentle but teasing. “You always think you can handle it. Spoiler alert: you never do. Isn’t that why you run, Pau?”
That earns a small, almost unwilling smile from Pau.
“Guess I haven’t changed much, huh?” he mutters, his eyes slowly catching up to Josh.
Josh leans his head back against the wall, gaze distant but warm. “Maybe. But maybe none of us really do. You remember how we ended?”
Pau closes his eyes. Yeah. Of course, he remembers.
A late night. A petty fight that turned serious— filled with all the hurt and pain they never spoke about, only tucked away in plain view.
That night of quiet tears, the two of them finally letting go after so many years. Because loving each other wasn’t enough anymore. They stopped understanding each other way before that. And all that was left was exhaustion—a world pulling them in opposite directions.
“And look at us now,” Josh says.
“We ended up fine, didn’t we? Friends. Breathing. Took some time, but we figured it out. You will too, you know? Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow. But you’ll find your peace— with her... with yourself... or both. Or you know, with whatever the hell it is that’s fucking you up,”
He shrugs with a half-smile.
Pau lets that sit. Lets it sting. Lets it soothe.
“What if I already messed it up, Josh?” Pau whispers.
Josh bumps his shoulder against Pau’s. “Oh, you definitely messed it up. No question. But you’re Pau. You mess up everything. That’s basically your brand, and somehow, everyone still loves you for it.”
Pau laughs—broken, but real. Josh stands, dusting himself off.
“Come on. Cry for a bit. Take a nap. Then try again when your brain’s working.”
Josh grins and turns to leave, then looks back over his shoulder.
“But don’t rush it, Pau. You owe it to yourself to feel it first. Stop running, will you?”
The door clicks shut behind him, leaving Pau in the quiet again.
***
The next morning, Pau awakens to find his face plastered all over national headlines.
“IDOL BREAKS DOWN MID-PERFORMANCE.”
“WHAT HAPPENED TO PAU?”
“IS PAU OKAY? FANS WORRIED AFTER SHOCKING EMOTIONAL COLLAPSE.”
He turns his phone off. Then on. Then off again.
Still lingering in bed, he decides to open up his phone again. He scrolls to her name.
"Marni."
His thumb hovers over the call button. An insistent feeling telling him he needs her voice like air.
But then Josh’s words replay in his head—
"Cry for a bit. Take a nap. Then try again when your brain’s working."
Pau exhales shakily. He lets the call screen fade out.
Not yet. Maybe tomorrow.
Maybe when the ache in his chest doesn’t feel like it’ll crush him.
For now, all he can do is miss her.
Quietly. Regretfully. Completely.
***
In Marni’s apartment on the other side of the city, the TV hums softly in the background, replaying the same clips over and over.
Pau on stage, voice breaking, shoulders shaking.
Then the headlines. The commentary. The speculation.
Marni sits on the couch, phone in her lap, fingers trembling slightly. She had told herself she wouldn’t call. Told herself she’d let him have his space.
But when his name flashed across her screen earlier— when she saw his number dialing her only to off after one ring— she knew. He was reaching for her, even if he couldn’t follow through.
So now, it’s her turn. She thinks about bout how people can’t really say no to him.
She dials. The ringback tone feels endless. She thinks of ending the call when suddenly— it clicks.
No greeting. No words.
Just the sound of his soft, uneven breathing on the other end.
And hers, steady but fragile.
A long pause stretches between them, heavy but strangely comforting.
Pau exhales shakily, and in that breath, she hears everything he can’t say—the fear, the regret, the loneliness.
Then, almost imperceptibly, she hears it— a soft, broken sob. She closes her eyes, holding back her own tears.
They stay like that for what feels like forever. Not speaking. Not needing to. Just being there.
His breathing eventually slows. The tears quiet down.
And when the silence feels less suffocating, she finally speaks.
Barely above a whisper. Soft. Steady. But fragile at the edges.
“Take care of yourself, Pau,” she says quietly, like if she spoke louder, she’d shatter. Her voice catches slightly at the end, but she holds it together.
She loves him still. And perhaps for a long time to come, she knows she will.
But love doesn’t always mean holding on. Sometimes it means letting go, gently.
She hears a soft “I’m sorry” from the other end of the line.
She ends the call before he says anything else, a single tear fall from her eye.
She stares at the screen for a moment, her heart breaking quietly.
Somewhere out there, Pau is staring at his phone too. The call ends, but her voice lingers in the room like a fading echo.
"Take care of yourself, Pau." His “I’m sorry”— like that could fix everything. The sound of her hanging up, another end to yet another empty declaration.
He stares at his phone, thumb hovering, unsure what to say that could possibly mean enough.
So he types the only thing that feels honest.
“Thank you.”
He doesn’t wait for a reply. Doesn’t even expect one.
I mean well, he thinks to himself. I just don’t know how to be well.
He drops the phone on the nightstand and sinks into the bed, finally letting exhaustion pull him under.
Chapter 3: Break Hard
Summary:
He thought leaving would help.
A plane, a new city, a stranger’s bed — anything to outrun the ache.But Taipei isn’t peace. It’s just quieter grief.
So Pau drifts. Through dim bars, borrowed names, and warm bodies that never stay.
And still, it’s not enough. Not to forget. Not to heal.What happens when running stops working?
When the weight finds you anyway?
Notes:
I'm on X if you want to engage: @luna_in_limbo :)))
Chapter Text
🎧 FOR THE MOOD:
APOCALYPSE - Cigarettes After Sex
J'S LULLABY (Darlin' I'd Wait) - Delaney Bailey
💿 FULL MIXTAPE:
A week passes by and Pau’s agency releases a statement.
"Pau will be taking a temporary hiatus to focus on his health and well-being. We ask for your understanding and continued support."
It’s the polite version. The corporate way of saying “He broke down and we don’t know what else to do but let him go for a while.”
The other members send him short messages—“Take care, bro.”, “We’ll hold it down here.”—and Josh sends a meme that makes him laugh, briefly, through the fog. They ask him of his plans, of what he intends to do. He doesn’t reply to any of it.
Everything feels distant. Even himself.
He doesn’t remember when he first thought about leaving. Maybe it was after the call. Maybe it was the second time he listened to his voice break on national television.
Maybe it had always been there, quiet in the background—go, disappear, be someone else.
Taiwan wasn’t a plan. He just booked it before he could second-guess it. It felt right— close enough to not disappear completely. Far enough to make it feel like he tried.
He shoves clothes into his bag absent-mindedly. His passport. His charger. He leaves his apartment wearing a hoodie that still smells faintly like someone else’s shampoo.
They tell me I always run. How about now we try flying?
Maybe there, I would finally feel nothing.
Pau arrives at the airport. He does a quick scan of the arrivals gate to find no cameras waiting, no screaming fans.
So far, so good.
Just the quiet hum of announcements in Mandarin and the familiar rhythm of his own heartbeat, finally slowing down.
While their group is fairly known in Taiwan, it’s not Manila-level hysteria. He welcomes how softer this feels. In a cap pulled low to his eyes and a well-loved hoodie, nobody stops him for photos.
And for the first time in months, maybe years, he breathes with relief.
Pau spends the next days or weeks on autopilot. He’s stopped counting. Stopped knowing what day of the week it is. He rents an apartment near the outskirts of the city.
“For how long,” the receptionist asks. He shrugs and says to just keep it open.
His mornings start slow, usually in the corner café a couple of blocks away from the nearest MRT station, where the barista doesn’t know his name nor thinks to ask. He likes that.
He orders the same thing everyday, a lukewarm Americano, no sugar. He’s long stopped caring how food tastes. He just wants something warm to hold. Something to do with his hands, so he looks less empty.
His afternoons blur into each other. He wanders unfamiliar streets lined with food stalls and secondhand bookstores. Stares at handmade jewelry he’ll sometimes try on, but never buy. Does emptiness need to be adorned? Amplified?
He finds himself listening to street musicians and remembers, in vignettes, the life he desperately wanted to escape. He tips them generously. He knows how it feels to be heard, but not listened to.
Sometimes people glance at him like they almost recognize him. But no one ever asks.
He likes that, too.
Most evenings fall quietly. He returns to the small apartment with white walls and a couch that creaks. Sometimes he picks up convenience store dinners, if he remembers to eat. It all tastes the same now.
Some days he writes lyrics on the Notes app on his phone and deletes it in the five minutes it starts to make him feel something.
He thinks of Marni constantly.
In the quiet, in the noise, in the songs he hums without meaning to.
But he doesn’t reach out again.
Maybe he’s giving her peace. Or maybe he’s punishing himself.
It will never be enough.
Standing on a crowded street corner, neon signs glowing above him, he lets the noise wash over his emptiness.
And it hits him:
He left Manila, but he can’t outrun himself.
He’s still lost. Still broken.
Still her ghost and his own stranger.
For tonight, he lets himself disappear into the crowd. Maybe tomorrow, he'll figure out who he’s supposed to be.
It starts with bars.
Quiet ones at first. The kind tucked into alleys behind neon noodle signs and faded posters. He prefers if it’s dimly lit, so no one sees the hollow in his eyes. Always with some mellow jazz in the background.
He always sits at the end of the bar. Orders whiskey neat. Keeps his head down.
No one knows who he is. Or if they do, they don’t care.
He likes that.
Sometimes they come to him. Sometimes he makes the first move.
Men. Women. He catches a scent he likes or sometimes, a certain way a woman’s hair falls on her shoulders. It doesn’t matter.
It never mattered.
Well, I’m here looking at the bottom of the pit every single night. Might as well.
Just like the cup of the lukewarm Americano he holds in his hand every morning, the goal is just to distract.
A body to lean into. A kiss to get lost in. A night where he doesn’t have to carry himself alone.
The less questions, the more random, the less they knew, the better. If they only knew.
They touch him gently, ask him where he’s from, what he does, why he looks so sad.
He answers with a smirk and a lie.
Tourist. Writer. Fine.
He doesn’t want it to matter. He doesn’t want to remember why it should. He barely knows who he is at this point, or looking at it even closely, what’s even the point?
Just let me run, run, run.
Most nights, they take him home. Or sometimes, he takes them back.
Clothes come off. Skin meets skin. The faster, the better.
He kisses like he’s trying to erase something. Open-mouthed, always greedy for more. He plays with tongues that speak languages he couldn’t. Mandarin, French, kindness, forgiveness. He devours them, praying he can transfer his emptiness into someone else. But damn if he’ll ever admit it.
Tourist. Writer. Fine.
“You’re so good, so good, so good,” they tell him. “Easy there, boy,” sometimes, when he gets lost in the motions. Arms, limbs, napes, and necks. He barely hears them over the roar of his self-loathing.
Afterwards, he stays just long enough for the warmth to fade. Then he leaves.
Or sometimes, they leave him. That’s easier. There’s never mention of names. Or he uses a different one when pressed.
“I don’t have time, I need to run,” says his grief in disguise.
He wakes up sore, disoriented, never surprised.
Some mornings, he forgets their names. Other mornings, he forgets where he is.
Nothing sticks. Nothing fills the hollow.
Nothing feels real, but he still does it again.
“Better than nothing,” is what he tells himself. Until he catches himself in the throes of ecstasy, in climax, and it almost feels like joy— if only it didn’t feel worse.
This is how I’ve always been. Nothing but a counterfeit.
Somewhere between Thursday and never, he ends up in a stranger’s bed again.
A man this time. Older, softer-spoken. The kind of presence that doesn’t demand, just allows. That doesn’t need him to be anyone at all.
They met at an old jukebox bar where Pau stood watching the toy crane machine, whiskey in one hand. He’s always enjoyed the mechanics of it, how it’s a process. And how, even you think you could out-maneuver it, you just couldn’t.
The man stood beside him, offered him a gentle smile. “Hi there, pretty,” he says.
“You have a place?” Pau asks.
He was already halfway to the door before the man could fully answer.
That was really all that he needed to know nowadays.
****
They kiss. They touch. Pau’s hands move out of habit. Before he knew it, their clothes were already off their backs, strewn out on the floor. It doesn’t matter.
Let’s just get through it. The faster, the better.
Pau grips the man’s hair and kisses him with intensity. His tongue finds the other’s and he bites his lower lip. The man breaks away a bit, catching for breath.
“You’ve got somewhere else to be, pretty?” the man asks, his hands anchored on Pau’s nape.
Pau responds by pushing him to the bed. He continues kissing the man. His jaw, his shoulders, his chest, his stomach. Raw, like he needs this to feel like something. He reaches his inner thigh and presses on it.
The man looks at him from the top view, waiting with bated breath. Pau puts the man’s cock in his mouth and does work with it. He toys with his balls while his other hand is cupping his ass cheeks. Without warning, Pau starts hovering above the man, positioning himself towards the other’s entrance.
He pushes all of himself into the man’s tight hole and begins to thrust. Hard, fast, panting. Pau throws his head back, his long hair cascading down his shoulders and partly covering his pretty face. Sweat forms on his face. He doesn’t pause with the thrust.
Tourist. Writer. Fine.
Pau doesn’t remember what exactly happened before he found himself tasting something salty on his lips. He opens his eyes to see the man on the bed sitting in an upright position, both hands firmly planted on Pau’s chest.
He ducks to kiss the man again, but something catches in his throat. His mouth pauses just above the other’s.
His lips tremble. His eyes squeeze shut. One hand curls against the man’s shoulder, tight. Too tight.
He wants to kiss. He wants to disappear. He wants to mean it.
“Hey, pretty. You’re not here,” the man says. Not unkindly. Not accusing. Just... honest.
Pau bites his lip to keep it in, but it’s too late. A single tear slips down the curve of his cheek.
The man doesn’t move. Doesn’t push or pull. Just waits.
That’s when Pau shatters.
He falls forward like something collapsing from the inside. Face buried in the other’s shoulder, arms curling in like a child.
The tears come slow at first, then sudden. Ugly. Real. The man wraps him up gently, a hand cradling the back of his head. For the first time, someone sees Pau apart, and they don’t flinch.
“It’s okay,” the man murmurs, his voice low.
“You don’t have to pretend,” he says, as he continues to rub the small of Pau’s back.
Pau laughs through his tears, bitter and broken. I broke down in mid-performance again.
“Lonely heart... doesn’t heal like this,” the man says in accented English.
“I know,” Pau answers. Hoarsely.
The man strokes his hair, calm and steady.
“You run until you break. Then you stop running. Then you walk. Maybe... one day... home finds you again.”
It’s simple. Wise. Kind. Pau hates how much it makes him want to cry harder.
Somewhere, a faraway Bluetooth speaker plays a song Pau only knows too well.
“You’re the only story that I never told..
And I don’t know why I just can’t let it go.”
Apocalypse. Just about right. He would laugh if he weren’t too shattered. If it weren’t too apt. If he weren’t too tired.
The man spoons him for the rest of the night.
***
The morning arrives gray. Like it’s going to rain anytime.
Light filters in through thin curtains like it’s afraid to disturb anything. The room smells faintly of sleep and sweat and something close to safety — but Pau won’t let it feel like that.
He wakes first. He’s sitting at the edge of the bed now, feet planted on the floor, back turned to the man still lying there. His shoulders are hunched and bare. His hair loose and messy.
The bed creaks softly as the man shifts. He watches Pau for a moment — silent, curious, kind.
He doesn’t ask questions. Doesn’t reach for him again. Just quietly rises, slips into the kitchen.
Pau hears the soft clatter of a mug, the low hum of the coffee machine. Eventually, the man returns with a steaming mug of coffee that he places on the nightstand beside Pau.
Not a gesture of affection — just something human. Something kind.
“Take care, pretty,” the man says softly, standing in the doorway. Pau fusses with the buttons on his shirt. He doesn’t look up.
He just picks up the mug, cradles it for a moment, then sets it back down. Untouched.
Pau leaves without saying goodbye.
He walks outside in the beginnings of an early morning rain. Looks up at the sky a bit, hangs his head, and continues walking. About to be drenched again in things he cannot control.
Let it pour. Damn it, let it pour.
***
It should’ve meant something. That night. That cry. That warmth.
But it didn’t stick. What’s wrong with me?
Pau keeps moving.
Different bars. Different alleys.
Different hands pulling at his jacket, different mouths tasting like lies.
Sometimes they laugh with him. Sometimes they grip him too tight.
Sometimes they whisper sweet things, and he always pretends not to hear.
Each night feels like an echo of the last. Each morning, the cycle continues.
How does this stop?
He wakes up in unfamiliar beds. Sometimes on couches. Or alone on the floor, with his shoes still on.
Sometimes he makes it to the shower. Other times, he just stares at himself in the mirror, wondering what the fuck he’s even doing here.
“Tourist. Writer. Fine,” such heavy lies.
How many more times do I have to say that?
What do I do to make me feel found?
I’m so very tired.
In Manila, days after Pau’s disappearance, Marni sits in her apartment in the dark.
Her grief keeps changing faces — sad at noon, angry by four, and back to missing him by midnight. It’s the crippling kind, the one that feels like a dull ache that never goes away.
She doesn’t know where Pau is.
No one does.
Was I right to let him go?
Just that he left — as usual, without saying anything.
Where is he?
Why does he always run?
It doesn’t feel fair that she still feels him everywhere.
The news says he’s on hiatus.
The anchors are careful with their words. “Resting.” “Taking time.” “Saja Leader Pau seen less in public.”
The fans are softer than she expects. “#RestWellPau” trends worldwide for a couple of days.
But they don’t realize he’s not just missing. He’s run away again. And this time, he ran from her.
She hears things from friends-of-friends.
"He’s resting."
"He’s out of town."
"He just needs space."
But where?
How?
Alone?
With someone?
The silence eats at her. It doesn’t feel fair that she still feels him everywhere.
She opens her phone. Scrolls past photos she shouldn’t look at anymore.
Finds one of them where the camera catches him mid-laugh, all soft and boyish.
She stares at their last messages. Just that single text:
"Thank you."
Like that could possibly sum up everything they broke together.
She throws the phone on the couch.
You always ran, Pau.
You always left me to pick up the pieces.
She imagines him in some foreign city, lost in his own head, maybe smiling for someone else now. The thought burns like acid.
I still love you, Pau. Even now.
I hate it, but I do.
In the day, she goes on putting on a brave face. She goes to work. She smiles for friends.
Everyone can tell it’s all hollow.
Every song she hears reminds her of him. Every quiet moment feels like a weight pressing on her chest.
If we held on, could we have been saved? Or only much broken for the worse?
Nights find her in this bed that suddenly feels too big. Every turn she makes reminds her that there used to be a figure stirring beside her.
The silence too loud in reminding her that there would be no one making sounds in the kitchen trying to fix a sandwich at 2am.
She finds herself scrolling through the news, through fan accounts, through speculation threads, hoping to find a clue.
She thinks of calling. But in the end, she doesn’t.
What’s the point?
If he wanted to be found, he wouldn’t have disappeared.
Lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, she whispers into the dark like a prayer he’ll never hear.
Come home, Pau.
Please just come home.
But whether she means back to Manila or to her, she isn't sure anymore.
Chapter 4: The Mess We Leave Behind
Summary:
Pau continues to spiral in Taipei, drifting through days without direction, while Marni begins to quietly let go. Both are haunted by things unsaid—texts that never get sent, feelings that go unacknowledged. Josh stays silent, but he’s watching—waiting for the moment Pau might still need him.
Notes:
I'm on X if you want to engage: @luna_in_limbo :)))
Chapter Text
🎧 FOR THE MOOD:
ALL I CAN TAKE - Justin Bieber
💿 FULL MIXTAPE:
It’s midnight and the photo hits the stan accounts first. Grainy and in low-light, but unmistakable.
It looks like a dim bar with Pau’s face half-turned—recognizable anyway, unmistakably him, even with someone else's mouth on his. His arms are lazily draped around a woman like the world isn’t watching.
The caption:
“PAU? IN TAIPEI?? WHO IS SHE???”
The internet loses its mind. Half the fans cry heartbreak while the other half chant, “Let him live!”, and the media circles like vultures.
In Manila, Saja’s group chat is chaos by sunrise.
Fil:
[screenshot link]
bro... ur boy out here filming his own scandal 💀💀💀
Yves:
the man's on vacation LET HIM COOK 😂😂
Jah:
y’all think it’s staged? 👀
Josh reads all of it in silence, lying on his stomach in bed, phone to his face. The messages keep coming. They’re all trying to be funny. Trying to keep the tone light. Because that’s how they’ve always handled Pau—equal parts exasperation and tenderness. He’s the golden boy and the trouble child, the storm they’ve all learned to brace for.
Josh double taps Jah’s message but doesn’t type anything back. Instead, he reopens the photo and zooms in.
Josh:
or maybe he’s just finally living.
Fil:
lmao FR. if anyone deserves to be messy it's Pau.
Yves:
Well he’s been holding this whole group on his back for years. if this is how he blows off steam, let him.
Josh:
yeah. let him.
He thinks there’s something in Pau’s eyes that no one else seems to be catching. Something brittle. Slurred. He tosses his phone onto the bed.
It’s funny, isn’t it?
He spent years loving Pau quietly, holding him together when no one else saw the cracks.
And now Pau’s in some foreign bar, lips on strangers, forgetting everything that used to hold him down.
Josh gets it. He really does. But damn if it doesn’t still hurt.
***
In Taipei, the woman laughs softly against Pau’s neck, her fingers playing lazily with the collar of his jacket.
“You always smile like that when you’re hiding something?” the woman says teasingly.
“Probably. But you’re pretty, so I’m pretending I’m not,” he answers half-drunkenly.
She giggles again, tipping her chin up toward him.
He kisses her. Open, languid, performative. Like that type that knows someone’s filming from across the bar.
He sees the flash and he doesn’t flinch. Lets it happen.
“Hope they get my good side,” he murmurs against her lips.
She doesn’t understand. But she kisses him again.
Later, they stumble out of the jazz bar, her hand wrapped around his belt loop. She’s laughing at something he’s already forgotten. He leans close, hand grazing the small of her back, gaze blurred with liquor and something else darker.
The streets are humid. Neon light washes them pink and gold.
A camera clicks from across the street. He knows there are cameras sometimes. He knows people are always watching.
But tonight, he doesn’t care.
Let them talk. Let them hate. Let me be.
Everything’s just empty and nothing really matters.
***
Pau wakes up the next day on the floor of his room — alone, and half-naked. He stares at the window as the sun filters weakly through the curtains. His body feels sore. His head buzzes faintly.
The lady must have left.
I was with someone last night… wasn’t I?
He hasn’t moved from the floor. He reaches for his phone and checks it out of habit.
Stan internet has exploded overnight.
Screenshots. Blurry videos. Wild theories. Gifs of the blurry clip of him smirking into the girl’s lips, reshared thousands of times.
His name is trending worldwide for all the wrong reasons.
“#pauunhinged”
He scrolls, thumb dragging over the chaos.
“PAU KISSING A GIRL IN TAIPEI??? WE ARE NOT OK 😭😭😭 ”
“josh pls log out. or in. or something. 😭 ”
“this is the most alive he’s looked in months. god i’m sad.”
“iconic tbh”
He lets out a laugh—dry, hoarse, almost disbelieving. For the first time in so long, he feels something that isn’t guilt or exhaustion. Something dangerously close to freedom, or detachment perhaps.
Let them talk. I barely know what I’m doing anyway.
Let me be.
I’m okay. I’m okay.
What even is a lie?
I’ve given everyone honesty and look what that did.
Here goes real, or whatever.
His phone buzzes again. It’s Josh.
“Fuck you. So fucking stupid.”
Pau stares at the message. His thumb hovers over the reply bar.
"Sorry."
"I know."
"Let me be."
"Miss you."
"Thanks for caring."
All the words gather behind his teeth but never leave.
He ends up typing nothing because he doesn’t know what to say. Instead, he lets the phone fall to the carpet. He throws his arm over his eyes and laughs once — quiet, bitter, tired.
I’m okay. I’m okay.
Maybe tomorrow, he’ll have something to say. Maybe never. But for now, the silence feels lighter than explaining himself again.
He exhales tiredly, staring at the cracked ceiling.
I’m okay. I’m okay.
***
Josh waited all night for a reply, but nothing came. He wakes up with a pit in his stomach and to a phone that seems like it will never make a sound again.
He drags himself through the day, anything just to keep going through the motions. He shows up to rehearsal on time. Does his vocal warmups. Jokes around with Jah and Yves. Nods when the choreographer corrects his form. Sings like nothing’s different.
His phone stays in his pocket the entire day. It doesn’t buzz, yet each passing minute it feels like it will. Every time it does, his heart stutters— but it’s never Pau.
Hours later, close to nighttime, he looks at the screen reflecting a name. Pau.
Josh feels it like a punch to the gut.
He doesn’t check it immediately. He can’t. Not yet. Not until night falls and the sky turns dark enough to drown in.
He finishes rehearsals. Waves goodbye. Drives home in traffic that feels longer than usual.
The air in his condo is stale when he enters. Like the day had just been waiting for him to fall apart.
He drops his bag. Kicks off his shoes. Finally pulls out his phone.
Pau:
I miss you
That’s it. Just three words. No context. Not even punctuation. Just those three fucking words.
Like it doesn’t destroy him to read them.
He lets out a bitter laugh.
Oh, now you do?
You don’t get to say that, Pau.
Not after everything.
He stares at the screen like it owes him answers. Jaw clenched, heart hammering. Like Pau will suddenly text back with something that makes sense. That makes it mean something.
He tosses the phone onto the couch and paces the living room.
How can three words carry so much? How they broke up. How exhausted both of them were. How suddenly distant, after so many years. The slammed door. The nights he waited for Pau to show up again. The way he started seeing Marni with him not long after. The way Pau never admitted whether she was just a rebound or a distraction.
No answers from Pau— and Josh had swallowed that silence. Let it rot inside him.
And now here comes Pau. Half a world away. Kissing strangers. Blowing up the internet.
Sending "i miss you" like that makes it okay. Like he just knows Josh will always be there.
Josh grips the edge of the kitchen counter, his knuckles white.
What do you want from me, Pau?
Because that text doesn’t just sting.
It rattles.
Why can’t he just fucking say it like he means it?
The microwave beeps, snapping him back to the present. His fingers hover over his phone. A part of him wants to lash out and tell Pau to go to hell.
But another part of him... God, another part of him wants to say, “Come home. I miss you too.”
He locks the phone without replying. He tosses the phone on the bed and buries his face in his hands.
It’s never just a message with Pau. It’s a pull. A dare. A whisper that curls around his ribs and says, "Don’t look away". He’s always been beautiful and magnetic. What a tragedy to think about.
The worst part is he knows that if there’s one person Pau can never say no to — not management, not even Marni — it’s him.
Always has been.
Which means this “i miss you” isn’t for pity. Or drama. It’s real. And that makes Josh even angrier.
How can he still mess him up after all this time? Still so good at ruining him.
Josh returns to his microwaved food. He will not reply tonight.
***
In Taipei, Pau stares at the “Seen” notification on his screen. The silence guts him. It feels like exactly what he deserves.
This is what you get. Go ahead and cry, pretty boy.
But you can’t, can you?
You’re okay. You’re okay.
***
It's past-midnight and Josh is halfway through a drink when his phone buzzes again. It’s Marni.
He hesitates, thumb hovering. He considers not answering.
In the end he does. Because a part of him still cares about both of them, whether he likes it or not.
“Hey,” he says flatly.
“Hey. Hope it’s not too late,” Marni says softly. Tentatively.
Silence hums on the line for a second.
“Have you... have you spoken to him?”
Josh pauses, heartbeat flicking just once.
He thinks about the text from Pau the night before.
"I miss you"
A message so simple it split him open.
I don’t think she needs to know. That’s mine.
He shrugs like it’s nothing.
“Nothing serious. You know how he is. He drops off the face of the earth when he’s spiraling.
Classic Pau,” he answers lightly.
Marni exhales, a mix of relief and something sadder. He can almost picture her chewing her lip, brow furrowed.
“Yeah... I know. But also.. it just... feels different this time.”
Josh leans back against the couch, eyes closing for a second.
“It always feels different. Until it feels the same again. He’s like that, you know?” Josh says.
There’s a pause.
“Do you think he’s okay?” Marni says in a quieter voice. Tentative. Careful.
Josh exhales, tipping his head back against the couch.
“No. But when is he ever, right? And he’s also a grown man.”
She lets out a small, broken laugh.
“I just... I wonder sometimes if there’s something you’re not telling me. if there’s something else going on. Stuff maybe I don’t know about. Between you two. Like were you.. ever.. were you two..” Marni lets her words trail softly.
Josh’s stomach twists. He swallows.
Pau never told her?
The words hover on his tongue, but he gives her nothing but a dry laugh.
“What do you mean?” Josh says carefully.
He knows exactly what she means. It just wasn’t really talked about. Him and Pau. What they were. What they are.
“I don’t know. History, maybe. Stuff I wasn’t part of. Just... wondering if I should be worried for a different reason,” Marni continues quietly.
Josh swallows hard. For a second, he wants to spill everything—how Pau broke his heart, how a part of him still aches, how messy it all still is. Instead, he laughs, light and sharp.
“Marni, with Pau? There’s always stuff no one knows. Even him,” he answers evasively.
She goes quiet again. Neither of them has answers, but the sound of tiredness hung like an overstaying visitor.
“Right. Okay. Thanks for... picking up,” Marni finally says.
“Yeah. Take care, alright?”
She hangs up first.
Josh drops his phone onto the couch beside him, rubbing his face roughly with both hands.
The weight of the unsaid continues to hang heavy in the room. That text from Pau remains burning quietly in his chest.
Why did it have to be me?
Chapter 5: Alone and With Strangers
Summary:
Pau drifts through Taipei in isolation, haunted by his choices and the ghost of a love he never truly understood. He fills his days with empty routines and fleeting strangers, but nothing silences the noise. In his lowest moment, he finds himself on the floor of a stranger’s bathroom, unraveling quietly. Meanwhile, Josh watches from afar, worried but still distant—proof that even silence can be a form of devotion.
Notes:
I'm on X if you want to engage: @luna_in_limbo :)))
Chapter Text
🎧 FOR THE MOOD:
SLOW DANCING IN THE DARK - Joji
💿 FULL MIXTAPE:
Meanwhile, a thousand miles from Manila, Pau is anything but quiet. Josh has always been the one who answered. That he didn’t now probably means Pau is left to his own. At least that’s what he thinks above the sound of his self-loathing.
He visits a new jazz club on another side of the city. The dim glow of it spills onto the street as he stumbles out, laughter on his lips, a new girl on his arm. Music still lingers faintly behind the door, a saxophone crying something tender and blue.
She’s pretty, nameless, and leaning into his side like she’s the only thing keeping him upright. Her lipstick’s smudged and she doesn’t seem to mind. She leans into him like gravity chose her side tonight.
His hand drifts low, fingers brushing against the curve of her ass as they walk. She squeals, mock-scandalized. He grins, lazy and sharp-edged. Her laugh is bright, but his smile is hollow. It has not reached his eyes in weeks.
“Where’re we going?” she asks, giggling against his jaw, fingers tugging at the hem of his jacket.
“Wherever you want,” he murmurs, voice dipped in whiskey and exhaustion. “Anywhere but here.”
They find themselves in a corner alley, where the girl finds a wall and leans on it, pulling Pau closer.
“You’re so pretty. What’s your name, love?” she says with her eyes half-closed.
Instead Pau pushes her harder against the wall and kisses her. Deep, eager, and messy.
Like he’s fighting something only he can see.
The girl gets caught aback and pushes him a little, a bit hesitantly. She looks straight into his eyes and starts twirling a part of his hair on her fingers. Pau lunges back at her, pulls her hair, and kisses her even harder. He bites her lower lip. The girl begins to grip his collar a bit tighter.
Her neck smells sweet, and to Pau like an invitation to be saved. His mind begins to travel elsewhere. To Josh. To how he used to pull him back by the collar. The way he used to laugh low into Pau’s shoulder. To be held and wanted by someone who knew him. Really knew him.
Josh has always answered til now.
Where is he? Am I really alone now?
“God,” Pau breathes against her skin.
He’s not sure if it’s a curse or a prayer.
They disappear into the night like that. Smelling of cheap highs and guilt-addled kisses.
***
Pau finds himself at the girl’s apartment. He doesn’t quite know how they ended up here, but perhaps it does not matter. It’s just another night where he’s expected to perform.
Funny, isn’t it? He still can’t outrun that. It doesn’t take much —or everything— to be a professional.
The air is warm, the lights low, the silence thick between them.
And suddenly, they’re in bed. Kissing. Fast. Hard. Messy. Like strangers who know they’ll never meet again. Hands searching. Lips crashing. Breaths uneven.
“You’re so pretty, love. Who are you?” the girl asks, tugging at his jacket.
He doesn’t answer and lets his hands do the talking. The clothes fall away.
Pau pins her to the bed. Crashes into her with all of his weight, kissing every part of her body. Like there’s a spotlight turned at him burning hotly. Like if he focused so hard, his thoughts would finally leave him.
It’s sweaty. Wet. Desperate.
For a while, he lets the noise in his head quiet down. Lets the world disappear in the warmth of her body, the press of skin on skin.
It’s easier when it’s foreign. When it’s uncomfortable. Yet he still rushes.
Every thrust of him more frantic than the last, every bruise that he leaves on her skin meant to forget but instead reminds.
The girl notices the shift in his breathing first. The way his body tenses, still and distant, even while pressed against hers.
She gently brushes his hair back. He stops her.
“Hey love...you remembering someone?” she murmurs tentatively.
He still doesn’t answer. Thrusts even deeper. Finishes.
The haze fades and the rush settles.
Pau exhales shakily, collapsing against her chest. The tears slip out before he can stop them, hot and blinding. The emptiness rushes back in like a tidal wave—unwelcome, but inevitable.
She wraps her arms around him without question. Her eyes trying to look for him behind the tangle of limbs and sweat but he’s not there. Probably never was.
How can someone be this sad?
Still she offers no judgment. No pity. This is not the night for remembering.
"Ni hao ma? (Are you okay?)” she asks softly. It’s so unlike the voices in his head. It’s the simplest question, the kindest thing anyone’s asked him in weeks.
“You’re too pretty to not be okay,” she continues kindly. She brushes the damp hair from his forehead, her touch gentle despite the curious turn of the night.
He folds into her arms, tears spilling fast and hot, unable to hold them back anymore. It undoes him. Kindness. Gentleness he doesn’t think he deserves.
She doesn’t pull away.
“Breathe, love. You don’t have to be anything right now.”
He responds with a broken sob, burying his face even deeper against her neck.
They stay like that for a long time.
She presses a soft kiss to his temple, like a friend saying I see you. You think you’re alone, but you’re not.
"Tomorrow... tomorrow you try again."
He chokes on a sob, nodding into her neck, feeling like a boy who’s been running too far from home.
Where is he? He was the one who always answered.
And for one fleeting moment, in this tiny room far from Manila without the answers he needs, he lets himself be weak.
***
The light filters through half-open blinds, cutting soft lines across the worn-out sheets.
Pau wakes to the smell of something cooking—simple, comforting.
Where am I?
It hits him slowly. The haze of last night. The girl. The tears.
He doesn’t remember falling asleep, but apparently, he had stayed the night.
He pulls himself up, sore in places he doesn’t want to name. Finds his clothes. Pads barefoot toward the faint sound of humming.
In the kitchen, the girl is there—wearing a loose tee, hair tied back, humming softly in Mandarin to herself. The sleeves are too long, the light too soft.
She turns, smiling without expectation.
She places a plate and a mug in front of him. Eggs, toast, and black coffee in a mug that has a chipped lip. Real and unpretentious. So unlike him.
"Morning, stranger," she says behind a sip of her own.
They sit across from each other in quiet understanding. The silence is honest.
"Who are you running from, love?" she asks gently.
Pau pauses, hand wrapped around the warm mug. Her gaze is steady. Not prying. Just.. kind.
He offers a shy smile instead. He doesn’t know how to answer. Or maybe he can’t.
Maybe the words don’t exist yet in any language.
“Thank you. For last night. For this,” he says, his voice rough but grateful. He smiles a bit longer this time.
She smiles back, small but sincere.
“Even prettier when you smile like that. Maybe next time, you tell me your name at least,” she teases, slightly.
He lets out a breathy laugh, the kind that almost folds into itself.
They share the breakfast without filling the silence further.
And when he leaves, he hugs her tightly, like he means it.
I’m okay. I’m okay.
***
He takes the metro and then walks back to his flat alone, the city buzzing around him, people going about their lives without noticing the tired boy slipping through their streets.
As soon as he steps inside, the weight returns. The quiet kind of heavy. That silence that’s so hard to bear.
He collapses into bed, still in yesterday’s clothes, and sleeps. Deep, dreamless, heavy.
Hours blur. When he wakes, it’s dark again— the kind of darkness that presses down on your chest like a heavy weight. He doesn’t remember if he has eaten. Doesn’t pause to check if he’s even hungry.
He drags himself to the shower, and the water turns on too hot. He lets it scald his skin. As if it could wash away the sweat. The perfume of someone else. The recklessness of the night before. His guilt. His loneliness.
In the mirror, he looks like a ghost in someone else’s apartment. Cheeks flushed, collarbone kissed red, hair a mess. Red marks trail down his neck. His stubble’s uneven, but he’s too tired to shave. What’s the point? He still looks alive. That’s the part he plays best.
The girl said he was pretty. How many times has someone called him that? Pretty boy, like that’s all that he is. If they only knew.
He looks down at himself. There are bruises varying in color from the past nights. Or weeks?
He feels like a ruin in designer skin.
The Bluetooth speakers crackle to life on the counter as his playlist shuffles through songs.
“Be My Mistake” by The 1975 plays.
The irony is not lost on him.
Of course.
This.
He lets out a breathless, humorless laugh.
The opening chords alone unravel him yet again.
He slides down the bathroom wall, water still running, head in his hands.
He’s so tired.
Where is he?
The lyrics cut deep. Raw and cruel.
“..And be my mistake
Then turn out the light
She bought me those jeans
The ones you like..”
The tears fall, slow and bitter.
“..I shouldn't have called
'Cause we shouldn't speak
You do make me hard
But she makes me weak
And don't wait outside my hotel room
Just wait 'til I give you a sign
'Cause I get lonesome sometimes..”
He lets the shower run through him while the song plays.
His chest caves in. He buries his face in his knees. He doesn't care that he's still soaking wet, trembling under the spray.
He thought the night gave him peace.
But all it did was remind him what peace feels like—and how far from it he still is.
Where is he?
Where am I?
The water stops running, but the thoughts don’t.
Pau steps out of the shower. He wipes his face roughly with a towel, like it could erase the past few hours— or the whole week. His hair drips.
He catches his reflection again. Eyes red-rimmed, lips bitten raw. A pretty boy trying not to look like a ghost. He puts on an old shirt, smelling faintly of comfort. Some sweatpants he isn’t sure if clean. Or his.
He shakes his head once, like he could shake the feeling away.
But it lingers.
Tonight, he doesn’t feel like fucking around. No random rooms. No random bodies. No sloppy and pointless kisses. His exhaustion cuts deeper than the hunger for distraction.
He moves around his tiny kitchen, finding something to eat. He picks a lone pack of noodles at the back of the cupboard, almost forgotten, and fixes it in the dark.
It’s nothing like what he’s used to back home.
But it fills the emptiness, if only for a while.
He cracks open a beer, the cold bite hitting his throat as he watches the boiling water on the stve. He looks to the window and catches his reflection once more. Interlaced with the city lights, people in buildings with lives of their own.
His playlist’s still going. Hasn’t changed from earlier. The Bluetooth speaker hums to life again, that familiar static.
The playlist keeps spinning and then it’s The 1975 again. “About You”.
One of Josh’s favorite songs, the one he keeps on singing during car rides and quiet nights at the apartment in Manila they used to share.
Where is he?
He stills mid-stir as the song fills the room— all reverb and longing, sweet and haunted.
The chords feel like a bruise you forgot you had until someone pressed it. A pulse of memory. The warm side of a pillow. Rain on the windows. Josh with his head tipped back, hands on the steering wheel, humming this song softly in the dark. Saying, “This one makes me think of you.”
Pau exhales slowly, almost dazed. How has it been days and he hasn’t thought of Marni? Wasn’t that the problem? The thing that started this whole spiral?
But no.
It’s Josh’s silence that guts him the most.
And when the line hits—
“..And there was something about you that now I can't remember
It's the same damn thing that made my heart surrender
And I'll miss you on a train, I'll miss you in the mornin'
I never know what to think about
I think about you..”
—his breath catches. It’s both cruel and beautiful.
He brings the beer to his mouth, takes a long sip, eyes fixed on the steam rising from the pot.
Thinks how when it’s dark, when the music plays,
It’s Josh.
It’s always been Josh.
The noodles start to boil over, but he doesn’t move. Just stands there, eyes glassy.
“..I miss you in the morning. I don’t know what to think about. I think about you..”
Without thinking, without giving himself time to hesitate, he decides to pick up his phone.
It seems it had been blowing up the whole day.
On social media, grainy photos of him again. His hand on the girl’s ass. Him leaving her apartment. Him in the metro looking like an awful mess.
"Pau’s gone wild again 🤡 ”
“Someone get this man a map back home”
“Is Pau okay? He looks… unhinged. Hot. But unhinged.”
“not the soft lighting and messy hair… this man is CHOOSING to be a scandal”
“was that his hand on her ass or am i just sleep-deprived”
Pau’s too far gone to care. Let them all talk. Let them wonder.
Just not him.
Where is he?
“..You and I (Don't let go)
We're alive (Don't let go)
With nothing to do, I could lay and just look in your eyes
Wait (Don't let go)
And pretend (Don't let go, oh)
Hold on and hope that we'll find our way back in the end (In the end)..”
He dials Josh.
The line rings.
Once.
Twice.
Three times. It feels like forever.
Where is he?
“..Do you think I have forgotten
About you?..”
And suddenly, he’s holding his breath like it’s the first time all over again. Like he’s 20, waiting for Josh to say he loves him too.
The call finally connects with a soft click. Pau exhales like the weight of his running has finally caught up with him.
For a moment, neither of them speaks. Just the quiet hum of distance.
“Didn’t think you’d call,” Josh says in a low voice.
“Didn’t think I would either,” Pau answers. His voice warm, a little slurred.
Josh lets out a breathy laugh, tension easing just slightly.
“So what’s this, you drunk-dialing your regrets now? How classic of you.”
Pau chuckles softly, but tears are lining up his eyes.
“Nah... just missed hearing your voice. Wanted to be annoyed and you’re perfect for that.”
Josh smiles despite himself, sinking back into his bed.
“God, you’re still a mess, aren’t you.”
A calm pause passes, filled with all the things they want to say but don’t.
“You miss me?” Pau asks teasingly.
Josh exhales, hand running through his hair. “Nice try.”
There’s more of the silence. Pau lets it settle. Lets himself languish in the comfort it provides.
Josh’s gentle breath on the other side of the line. So easy. So familiar.
“You gonna come find me, Josh? Wherever the fuck I am?” Pau finally says in a low voice, gently flirting.
Josh laughs, but there’s something raw in it. Something real.
“I could, you know. I always do,” Josh says quietly. Firm.
Another pause. Then Pau’s voice, soft and challenging.
“Yeah... you do. God, I would really love to see you try.”
Josh leans forward, like it’ll close the miles between them.
“And then what, Pau?” Josh asks, unsure if he’s going to be afraid of the answer.
“I heard this song, Josh. 'About You' by The 1975. Earlier, in the shower. Do you remember what you always said before, whenever we heard this?” Pau says.
“I said, ‘And then what, Pau’?” Josh waits with abated breath for an answer he knows for now won’t come.
Pau giggles. Soft, warm, sweet.
The kind of laugh that makes Josh’s heart hurt and swell all at once.
“Night, Josh,” Pau says quietly.
click.
The line cuts before Josh can say anything else.
He sits there, staring at the phone, his heart racing. He had felt it through the other line.
Pretty boy, all fucked up and terrified.
What’s this gonna cost me this time?
He opens his laptop, in spite of himself.
Flight search.
One-way to Taipei.
He books the flight.
Tomorrow morning, so he can’t change his mind.
Who’s more fucking stupid now?
No plan. No warning, except for Yra perhaps, and their agency.
Josh reminds himself to let their COO know he’s leaving for a bit.
I’ll do everything right if it means you’ll stay.
Chapter 6: Departures and Arrivals
Summary:
A message is sent. A song is sung. The city watches as Pau cracks open, quietly, under the weight of his own making. By morning, the headlines shift—but he still feels lost. Somewhere else, far from the noise, a man makes a choice he’s been holding onto for years. No fanfare. No turning back. Just a flight, a question, and a name that never stopped mattering.
Notes:
I'm on X if you want to engage: @luna_in_limbo :)))
Chapter Text
🎧 FOR THE MOOD:
💿 FULL MIXTAPE:
It’s late. Past midnight. Marni sits alone in the living room, the only light coming from the small desk lamp in the corner. The TV plays something she’s not really watching — just noise to fill the quiet.
It’s calm tonight. No headlines. No frantic calls. No waiting.
For the first time in weeks, Marni feels the noise fading from her mind. She hasn’t cried in days, and all that’s left is tiredness.
It’s probably time.
There’s a glass of water sweating on the coffee table, a half-eaten dinner gone cold beside it. Her phone lies face-up, lit by the glow of another notification she doesn’t open.
It’s from a friend sending her another grainy photo of Pau in Taiwan. She doesn’t open it. She doesn’t need to see it to be reminded of how Pau is doing. He chose that after all. People have got to give him some credit for his own spiral. Maybe it’s what he really likes. Or needs.
She sits on her bed, phone in hand, the unsent message blinking back at her.
She’s rewritten it a dozen times.
“Hey Pau.
I’ve been meaning to say this for a while but kept putting it off. Maybe part of me was waiting for things to fix themselves. But they won’t, will they? Not the way we both hoped. I figured if I don’t say this now, I never will.
I think I’m finally done waiting. I know you asked before.. before you left. But I just can’t now. I’m tired of holding space for someone who’s always elsewhere.. even when we were together. Of always having questions I never felt I even had the right to ask. We have to let it go this time.
I don’t hate you. I never did. I really loved you.. and I think, there’s also a version of you who also loved me once. But that kind of love’s not fair for anyone, if you don’t step back and learn to love yourself first.
I know you’re hurting. And I hope—sincerely—that you find whatever it is you’re looking for out there. Whether it’s peace, or chaos, or just yourself.
If we’re meant to find our way back to each other, maybe someday we will. But if not, that’s okay too.
You’re not just pretty, Pau. You are beautiful. I hope you always remember that.
Please... if you’re reading this and all you have to give me is courtesy, don’t reply. Please don’t do it just because of guilt.. or because you want to be polite. I hope you respect what we had enough to just leave it be. If you really ever did love me, I hope you do not make this harder than it has to be.
Take care of yourself, Pau. Really. Thank you for everything.”
—Marni
She reads it once more. This time, she finally presses send.
She places the phone down, her heart strangely calm. She waits for tears but they do not come. No breaking. It isn’t ugly. She just felt release.
If it happens again someday, it’ll be because they’re different people by then. If.
Marni sleeps with a strange and comforting finality.
The city winds down outside.
***
The phone buzzes against the counter. He doesn’t check it right away.
Pau lets the playlist shuffle, some sad synth-pop filling the empty space. He finishes the last of his beer and finally decides to glance at the screen.
Her name stares back at him. Marni. For a second, his stomach knots.
He opens the message and reads every word. Slowly, and then once more, waiting for it to make him feel something. He thinks it will make him feel guilty after reading and re-reading. It doesn’t. Instead, it’s something close to resignation.
It’s calm. Mature. Kind, even. And that should hurt worse than if she’d cursed his name.
Of course, she was not going to wait for him to come back around. Of course, she would say it like it is. She always did things right.
I never deserved her, did I? As with most things in my life.
She’s wise to let go. I always run.
What hits him hardest is the fact that he hasn’t even thought about her much lately. Not like he thought he would. He should have, shouldn’t he? That’s how real life should unfold, doesn’t it?
All those months he said he loved her. Slept next to her. Promised her things. What does that say about him?
He lowers the phone and stares at the floor. Swallows hard.
Maybe he meant it then. Or maybe she was a pit stop he thought was the finish line.
She really deserved better than that.
Better than all this running and all this wreckage he keeps on causing. That he can’t stop.
He can’t even tell what’s real anymore. All these years in the spotlight. Everything to a schedule. Everything to a bullet point that needs to be ticked off.
Maybe Josh was right. Maybe everyone was right.
What I am is a punchline with no audience but myself. And I can’t even begin to laugh.
“You’re not just pretty, Pau. You are beautiful.”
That line rings the loudest. It sounds like something Josh would’ve said. Like they both saw the same thing — this fragile and broken truth in him that he never truly believed.
Where’s my cue to finally laugh? I’ll follow it this time.
He lets out a slow breath. She said not to reply.
And he’ll do that not because he’s noble, not because she’s said so. But because he doesn’t know how to be anything right now. And it may be the only chance for him to finally do her something right.
Maybe if I stay silent, the noise would finally come down.
He places the phone face down and lies back. It feels like failure.
He stares at the ceiling like how he did so many times before; he’s memorized it by now.
Not crying. Not angry. Just hollow. Heavy.
What choices did I really have?
I’ve always ran. Let me run, run, run.
Where is he?
He did answer, but Pau didn’t feel it was enough.
Josh, in both his noise and in his silence. In his everything.
Josh, who never left even when he walked out on him so many times.
When he probably really should have.
I’m so tired.
He takes another swig of beer. The night stretches on.
How do I believe?
The question sits like an uncomfortable lump in his throat. Outside, the city hums with a quiet mystery he wishes he could know.
***
Pau taps “Go Live” without thinking. It’s 2:00AM at his apartment’s balcony and the city glows behind him—serving as a background he never meant— but the audience said “added to the aesthetic.”
The screen floods with hearts and comments almost instantly — fans flooding in, usernames flying past, waves of “I missed you!!” and “it’s 2:00AM and he’s back omg”.
He doesn’t say anything right away. Just sits there in a hoodie, legs crossed, an old acoustic guitar resting against him. He loops the strap of the guitar like he’s always done for so many years. He smiles a bit at the camera.
“Can’t sleep,” he says, voice low. The comments flood again.
“sing something please 🥺 ”
“pau idol of the nation”
“YOUR VOICE OH MY GOD”
“what is sleep”
He starts strumming. Something slow, familiar — a soft ballad they all know, but slowed down even more. His voice is raw. Not weak, not broken, just unarmored. And it feels real enough for everyone watching to forget the headlines.
“stop he’s making us cry call the police”
“still so hot with the eye bags”
“sir step on me with your baggages”
He plays another song—one of their “underrated” ones, a classic ballad the fans always beg for but they rarely play anymore.
His fingers begin moving without thought. Then, softly at first, he sings.
“I was all alone with the love of my life
..got glitter for skin
My radiant beam in the night
I don't need no light to see you.. shine..”
His voice, in all its aching, was still heartbreaking beautiful, like him.
Clear, unmistakably his, and impossible to look away from.
He starts to sing another, one of his unreleased demos — a verse he never finished. His voice cracks just slightly. Someone screen-records it instantly. He knows it will trend by sunrise.
“..Cause you're everything to me
And I'm drowning, can't you see..”
He’s so far away, so far gone— but in here, he’s still the boy who could hold a room of thousands in the palm of his hand.
“..Without you without you
I can't barely.. barely breathe..”
Where is he?
He doesn’t finish the verse. Instead, he looks back at the camera, his smile small but seemingly real.
“Thank you. I’m okay,” he says while flashing a quick peace sign.
He ends the live as suddenly as it began. No explanations. No goodbye.
He stares at the city below him some more.
It would have been so easy. To just go back. But I’m just so tired.
He comes back inside to his room. Tosses his phone to the bed like it weighed more than him and the whole of Taipei combined.
***
By morning, it’s everywhere.
"Pau breaks silence with late-night serenade—fans call it his most vulnerable moment yet."
"Despite controversy, nation’s sweetheart still shines."
"He looked tired, but at peace."
“Pau may finally come home soon.”
The media resets itself like it always does.
Suddenly, he’s no longer the scandal — he’s the soft boy in exile. Everyone’s favorite ingénue with a lovely pain in his voice. People are back. People are posting. People are forgiving.
He reads a few comments while brushing his teeth.
It makes him smile, but it’s faint. Not satisfaction — just that flicker of warmth from something familiar.
I still got it. Still cannot outrun it.
What a joke.
What a blessing.
What a fucking curse.
There was a time he hated all of it. The lights, the noise, the constant hunger of an audience that never sleeps. At times, he still does.
But if he can be honest for once in his life, it really does fill something. The void is quieter when people are watching. He doesn’t know about being seen and not just looked at, but at least he doesn’t feel as invisible.
This is the closest thing he knows to being held. And when he doesn’t know where to go, he’s learned by now that sometimes, the stage is safer than silence. Whatever type of stage that may be.
He finishes his coffee. Stares out the window.
Did he see?
“..Still pick the pieces just to give my all
And if living’s life without you what for..”
The verse has already finished itself but he's not here.
Where is he?
***
It’s 3:46am at the airport in Manila and Josh sits alone at his gate. His hoodie pulled low, noise-canceling headphones slung around his neck.
He hasn’t slept. Not really. Not in the way that counts. His phone has been buzzing since Pau ended his live. The notifications keep flooding in.
"Pau just went live."
"Dude sang his soul out at 2AM."
"He’s okay. Or pretending to be."
Yra called him earlier to ask if he’s pushing forward with going to Taipei.
Josh had called him the night before to say he’s flying to see Pau— and that he was not asking for permission. Yra tells him it’s not his role to rescue the “prodigal son.” He tells Yra he knows Pau is not well. That he needs him there.
Yra put his pen down on the table. “And you know that, why?” he says.
Josh answers that he just does. Says he knows he will regret it if he does not come. That he cannot pretend anymore.
Yra warns him of the possible speculations. Of Josh being seen in Taipei, of all places.
Josh just let out a half-shrug. “Let them, I guess,” he says, with quiet conviction.
“Are you doing this for him or for you?” Josh remembers Yra asking.
“Maybe both,” he says.
Yra lets him, saying they would hold the fort. They would tell the press Josh is attending a creative workshop, since Pau is gone, and Saja’s on a semi-hiatus anyway. He tells Josh he’s owed one.
Josh remembers smiling. Yra, the patient. Yra, the understanding.
Whatever will we do without him?
Yra ended the talk with something Josh took as a mission.
“If you break, come home alone.
But if he’s what you want—
Don’t come back without him.”
Like he hasn’t made up his mind so many years ago.
***
His flight is boarding soon. He opens up his phone to watch a replay of Pau’s live.
And there it is. Pau, barefoot on a balcony, strumming that stupid old guitar. Taipei 101 in the background.
No filters. No flash. Just him.
Josh watches the whole thing in silence.
When Pau smiles at the end—small, tired, beautiful— something cracks open in Josh’s chest.
He’s not sure what will be waiting on the other end. But that’s never mattered. He’s going anyway.
The gate lights blink to life. Final call.
Josh stands and stretches. He pulls his hood tighter. There's a softness in his eyes, but also resolve.
He doesn’t run. He boards.
That makes it one of us.
Pretty boy, here I come.
***
Pau wakes with sunlight spilling through his room. The day feels different— he isn’t sure why.
The sun felt welcome. He feels a little less hazy.
His phone vibrates nonstop on the nightstand. Pau groans, shielding his face from the light. He reaches for the phone with a tired hand.
50 MISSED CALLS.
SAJA GC: 183+ UNREAD MESSAGES.
He squints at the notifications, scrolling through the chaos.
Fil:
bro why u gotta make us CRY at 2am??? 😭😭😭
Yves:
i literally fell asleep smiling, idiot. thanks for that. now ANSWER YOUR PHONE.
Fil:
you good now or u still being dramatic in foreign countries? we miss u, u know 🥺
Jah:
leave him alone he’s healing let him be sad and hot in peace 😤
Yves:
he’s always been hot. I don’t know about the peace
Fil:
SHUT UP YOU DON’T GET TO CLOCK HIM LIKE THAT
The messages pile up—concern wrapped in jokes, teasing layered over genuine care.
He goes through the notifications feeling something warm open in his chest.
He drops the phone on the bed, thinking how much he’s missed them.
But..
Where is he?
Chapter 7: Cycles
Summary:
They move in circles.
Josh has come back, and Pau lets him in — just like he always does. But the question isn’t if he’s staying. It’s if he knows how.
Old wounds feel new when they’re finally named. And silence, sometimes, is the loudest thing in the room.
He’s here. Again. Still. But for how long?
Notes:
I'm on X if you want to engage: @luna_in_limbo :)))
Chapter Text
🎧 FOR THE MOOD:
💿 FULL MIXTAPE:
Josh looks out the plane’s window, Taipei greeting him with a washed-in grey morning light. It feels like it’s overcast everywhere— this sky, this city, his head, his heart.
He steps off the plane without ceremony. No fanfare. No entourage. It’s been years since he last stepped into this city. But somehow, it doesn’t feel foreign. His pretty boy’s here. It feels like his city.
He moves through immigration like muscle memory. The only thing louder than his footsteps is the voice in his head reminding him why he’s here.
His pretty boy’s here, and he’s bringing him home. If he wants to.
But first, he needs to find him.
I’m here. I will always choose you.
***
Josh rides the metro straight to a quiet café in Xinyi, one of the cafes he frequented with Pau before when they were visiting Taipei. He remembers Pau liked the custard bread here. Maybe he still likes it some 3 years later. He half-hopefully expects to find him there, make the search much easier.
Josh lugs along his duffel slung over his shoulder, no hotel, no plans. Except for that one that really mattered.
He sits alone at a table across the windows, where he can see the street. The morning crowd has thinned. The daily grind has started. His laptop glows softly on the table, half-muted notifications pinging to the side, but he’s focused. Laser-focused. His phone plays the replay of Pau’s IG live on loop, the same few seconds over and over.
The skyline. The balcony rails. Taipei 101 in the background. A glint of something behind the glass doors. The vague shadow of a plant he remembers Pau insisting he relates to. That it reminded him of home, even if it looked like it was always dying. His “spirit plant,” as he used to say.
He pauses the video. Zooms in.
He knows this angle.
Grand Hyatt?
East Shangri-La?
No that’s not it.
That’s not him.
And then it clicks for him.
It’s not a hotel. Not some five-star sanctuary.
It’s one of those old apartments with all their histories.
And of course—of course—he’d choose somewhere like this. Some place lived in. With character. Some place you could disappear into, like background noise.
Classic Pau. Hide in plain sight.
Josh finishes his lukewarm coffee. Closes his laptop with a quiet finality.
He checks the time. Not even noon.
“Give me a few hours,” Josh quietly mutters to himself.
“You gonna find me, Josh? Wherever the fuck I am?” Isn’t that what he said?
Damn right. Wherever the fuck you are.
***
Pau finally opens the group chat, still lying on his back, hair a mess, brain foggy from sleep and whatever emotional hangover that live left him with.
Fil:
If you were a good friend u would have done “baby shark”
Pau:
y’all are clingy as hell. miss me that bad?
Jah:
still can’t believe you sang THAT demo. bro. why.
Pau:
bc i’m sad and hot. it’s allowed.
Yves:
k wait why was that kinda real
Fil:
still can’t believe u soft launched ur breakdown 😭 rawdogging sadness and Taiwanese beer. KING SHIT BRO
Pau:
taiwanese girls too. and maybe boys. mind ya business. 😘
Jah:
Omygod stop 💀 Jah has left the conversation
Yves:
We respect the hustle but pls get ur pretty ass back home so we can yell at u in person
Fil:
Where are u im’a order you a salad
Pau:
Don’t need bro im thriving.
He chuckles. It’s dumb, but it helps a little.
They light up with laughing emojis and reaction gifs, but underneath it, he knows they’re just relieved he’s answering at all. That he’s still here. Still trying.
Where is he?
He puts the phone down, pulls on a hoodie, and heads out. Time for his lukewarm americano.
His lukewarm life.
In this city that’s anything but.
***
Josh looks up at the grey building. The entrance is barely marked — just a chipped brass number and a red sticker with a faded paper lantern sticker pasted near the buzzer. It’s a nice neighborhood, lined with golden rain trees. Across the street, a little shop sells homemade pineapple cake.
He hopes he’s not wrong. He cannot be wrong.
This must be the place. It matches everything from the live. And the view.
He strides through the lobby, adjusting his cap low over his eyes. No concierge. No polished marble floor. The air smells faintly of citronella and incense.
He heads straight to the reception desk. The young woman behind the counter looks up—and freezes. Her mouth opens in recognition, hand flying to her chest.
"You’re... you’re...Josh? Saja’s Josh? Oh my God!”
Josh gives her a soft smile, voice low and warm.
“Hi. It might be a stretch, but any chance Pau’s staying here? Perhaps in.. 5B?”
She bites her lip, visibly torn. “He didn’t say you were coming. Oh my God.”
“I know,” Josh says calmly. “So.. he’s staying here, then? I’m, uh, I intend to surprise him. Gone too long, you know,” he smiles shyly.
There’s a long pause from behind the counter. “Can I get a selfie?” the receptionist finally says very quietly, eyes sparkling, nearing tears.
“Only if you can lend me his spare key? And no posting?” Josh answers, drawing a glance from below, flashing the young woman with that charismatic smile of his.
"Technically, I’m not supposed to—" she starts.
"I won’t tell if you won’t," Josh cuts her with a wink.
She hesitates, then— with a sigh— reaches for a spare key from a drawer.
“You didn’t get this from me,” she mutters.
Josh bows slightly. “Now, where’s your phone? Let’s get that selfie.”
The young woman reaches for her phone in her pocket and shakily tries to take a picture of herself with Josh. Josh gently takes the phone from her hand, flips the camera, and leans in for the shot.
“There, that’s better, right?” he gives her his signature smirk.
The young woman can barely form her words. “Thank you, Josh. I promise I won’t tell,” she whispers, still wide-eyed and giddy.
“Thank you. You didn’t see me either.”
Josh sees the flight of stairs in front of him. Of course, the one elevator that’s available isn’t working at this time. He starts up the steps feeling like each one he makes echoes of something old. Something that’s waited long enough.
For a moment, he wanted to turn back. Stop climbing.
Why did it have to be me?
Instead, he grips the key tighter. Two more landings.
‘You gonna find me, Josh? Wherever the fuck I am?’
I’m here, pretty boy. Always have been.
***
Josh stands in front of the door, key cold in his hand. For a beat, he hesitates.
How does one get ready for this?
He puts in the key on the knob, and the lock clicks open.
The door creaks inward.
The smell hits him first—something faintly floral, like Jasmine, mixed with half-smoked cigarettes. There’s also a sharp edge of alcohol and dust. Josh steps inside and quietly closes the door behind him.
The apartment is a mess.
Pau, at his worst, had always been organized with his stuff. Not this time around. There are crumpled papers strewn on the floor, and when Josh picks them up, he sees half-written lyrics. Not in Pau’s usual handwriting. It’s like it was scrawled in anger. In quiet defeat.
There’s a guitar in the corner, that one he used on his live. It’s new but not quite. Like it has already lived a thousand lives and was just happy to be here.
Shirts hanging off the back of a chair, three mugs unwashed on the counter. An ashtray on the windowsill that hasn’t been emptied in days. Pau, who only smokes to have something his hands can get preoccupied with.
Is he holding something else now? Someone?
Not dirty, exactly. Just… lived-in. Messily so. But even the mess seemed to Josh like whoever left it treated it as an afterthought.
He takes it all in. Every detail. It’s like walking into someone’s head mid-thought. Someone lost.
A stray sock under the table. A hair tie on the floor. One of Pau’s rings, tossed beside a near-empty bottle of lotion.
Josh sighs and shrugs his bag off. He starts tidying.
He doesn’t know why he’s doing this—he’s never been the domestic type—but maybe this is his way of softening the silence. He can’t bear this quiet; it feels so devoid. So lonely.
So quiet, it almost feels like nothing, if not for the thumping on his chest.
He wipes counters. Folds shirts. Takes out trash. Opens the windows.
On the balcony, he finds Pau’s spirit plant. He touches its leaves with care and waters it. It’s wilted, but somehow it’s still standing up. Craning towards the sun. He almost feels like tearing up.
While putting away some magazines, he finds Pau’s notebook. That Moleskine in black leather he always carries around with him, like an extension of his hands.
He opens the pages to find lyrics in fragments. Doodles. A photo strip with blurred faces. He runs his fingers over the ink like it might tell him something.
I’m here, pretty boy. I’m here. I'm here.
Josh walks to the end table, and there’s a copy of Norwegian Wood, its corners dog-eared, pages marked with underlines. There's a page folded three times and creased near the spine. He unfolds it gently.
A black guitar pick with “Taichung” printed on it in neon falls to the floor.
A quote. Underlined thrice.
“I want you always to remember me. Will you remember that I existed, and that I stood next to you here like this?”
Josh closes the book and puts it back, swallowing thickly.
His eyes catch the mirror by the open door leading to the bathroom. There's lipstick smudged faintly in one corner.
He opens the bathroom door without turning on the lights. In the corner of his eyes, a flash of gold. Is that a bracelet? It is a bracelet. It’s something Pau will never wear.
Josh stops there.
How many has he kissed here?
The question comes unbidden, a quiet violence that punches him square in the chest.
Did he bring anyone home?
Did they hold him?
Did he laugh?
Josh stops himself. He shakes his head and laughs bitterly.
Did he ever think of me?
“No. Not here. Not now,” he whispers into the walls, like Pau shouldn’t hear it. Even if he’s not here now.
How many stories will he not tell?
On the bathroom sink, an unfamiliar bottle. Perfume, not Issey Miyake with the funny bottle, the one Pau used to drown himself on. Josh puts his nose closer to it, like inhaling it will give him something familiar. A clutch to hold onto.
The bottle’s label says it is Etat Libre d’Orange — Jasmine et Cigarette. He sprays it once. He thought it smelled of recklessness. Of pretend. Of grief disguised in softness.
How much did I miss?
He finishes cleaning. The place looks less disheveled, but still feels cluttered without its natural inhabitant.
Josh exhales deeply and sinks to the couch, exhausted. The quiet hums around him.
For the first time in days, he lets himself close his eyes.
I’m here, pretty boy. I will be waiting for you all my life.
***
The door creaks open with a tired click.
It’s 5 pm and Pau steps in, hoodie on, earbuds still dangling from his collar. He’s holding a half-finished coffee, already cold. He’s not expecting anything but more silence. More mess. More nothing.
What he doesn’t expect is Josh.
Asleep. Curled up on the small couch, arms folded, his face softer than Pau remembered. His hair looked tired, upturned at the edges. There’s a blanket half-hanging off his leg.
The windows are open. The place is clean. It felt like it breathed again after weeks.
Pau freezes in the doorway.
Where is he?
Here.
He can barely believe it. His heart catches in his throat. Pau sets the coffee down quietly, moves closer to him. Gently, afraid to make a sound that might wake him up.
‘You’re gonna find me, Josh, wherever the fuck I am?’
He found me.
He said he would, and damn, he did.
He always does.
For a long moment, he just… watches. He knows he is not ready for this. But maybe, deep down, he was waiting for it.
Nothing makes sense anymore but this. Josh, asleep on his couch.
Like he belonged there all along.
After a while, Josh stirs, shifts slightly. His eyes blink open—slow and dazed.
And then he sees him.
They just… stare.
No words. No gasps. Just the small, stupid smiles of two people who know exactly what the other looks like when they’ve been hurting. Who recognize each other even in the wreckage.
Just them.
Josh sits up slowly.
“Hi, pretty. I’m here.”
Pau says nothing. He just stands there, breathing, wrecked, and for the first time in what feels like forever — seen. Not just looked at. Really seen.
It came by way of a tired boy on a couch.
***
Josh rubs the sleep from his eyes, voice still hoarse from his nap.
“Flights were cheap, you know,” he says in a low voice, a small smile curling on the corners of his lips. “Got some miles to burn. This city’s good as any.”
Pau lets out a soft laugh, shaking his head.
“Yeah?” he says, grinning. “You’re insane, Josh. This feels like a tired movie plot. You. Here,” he continues.
Josh lowers his head. “Well, it worked fine, didn’t it?”
Pau continues staring at him. For a beat, it was like no words could take the place of Josh being actually here. It really does feel like the movies.
He always finds me.
“Stop staring. I’m real,” Josh says. Smiling at Pau, but also staring.
“Sorry, I just… You cleaned? Can’t blame me for thinking you aren’t.”
Josh rolls his eyes, but the smile sticks. He can’t help it.
He feels a lump forming in his throat. Pau has never lost his grasp on him. He makes him feel clumsy, and if this were indeed a movie, like what Pau says, then Josh thinks he could go on forever without a script.
He looks like hope trapped in a little bird. Complicated. Fucked up. Terrified. Beautiful.
Devastatingly so. This holy work trapped in a messy boy’s body.
This is the price. This is the prize.
His thoughts get stopped when Pau suddenly throws a pillow at him.
“Do you wanna maybe take a shower first? You smell like all my regrets and bad decisions,” Pau says.
“Well, I had to wipe lipstick stains off your bathroom mirror, didn’t I?” Josh answers.
Pau pauses for a bit, like he wanted to say something, but decided against it.
Instead, he continues to tease, his voice dropping slightly. “Would you mind so much if we shared the shower, though? Save water and all that. Save Mother Earth.”
Josh snorts. “Shut up. Just hand me a clean towel if you have one. But I really, really doubt.”
“Ouch,” Pau says. He walks towards his room to look for towels and pauses by the door. He looks back at his shoulder to see Josh still sitting on the couch. So soft, even when his shoulders are shaking lightly.
He always finds me.
Josh catches him staring beside the bedroom door.
“I’m not leaving.”
Pau hesitates a bit. “You mean ‘yet’”.
Josh just looks at him and says, “Towels, please.”
***
Pau gets out of the bathroom, his long hair still wet from the shower. Josh sits on the couch, a towel draped over his shoulder. His eyes are almost closing. He catches a soft whiff of mint and lavender as Pau shakes off his head. It almost feels comforting, like Josh didn’t come here for a totally different thing.
“Hey, let’s take a nap. Your eyes are drooping already,” Pau says with a gentle care in his voice that moves Josh upright.
Josh stands up and walks over to the bedroom door. Pau sits on the bed, pats the space beside him.
“Here. It’s been a long day,” Pau says quietly. Tentatively. “Don’t worry, I won’t touch you. But if you wanted to, then…” he continues, giggling.
Josh smiles tiredly. He hesitates for just a moment, then gives in.
Pau lies down. Josh climbs onto the bed beside him, stretches out on top of the covers, arms folded behind his head.
Pau turns on his side to face him. The whole thing feels so familiar, like a warm coffee mug you hold in the mornings. A quiet trust. A fuller world. A realer one.
They don’t touch at first. Just lie there, breathing in the same quiet.
“Are you gonna start admitting how much you’ve missed me?” Pau asks, a slight giddiness to his tone.
Josh turns to face him. “Why do you think I’m here?”
Pau doesn’t answer. Just keeps staring at Josh. The angles of his jaw, how cutting it seems. His soft eyes. The proud and unassuming point of his nose.
Then he turns over to stare at the ceiling, like so many times before.
Minutes pass like that.
The space between them softens.
Pau begins to shift closer, softly wrapping an arm around Josh’s waist. A bit tentative, but gently, like it didn’t carry the weight of his world. Like there’s nothing thundering in his chest.
Josh lets himself lean into it, resting his forehead against Pau’s collarbone.
“I’m pretty fucked up, you know,” Pau says into Josh’s hair.
“I know,” Josh whispers. “And I’m here.”
Their legs brush under the covers, but none of them move to shift positions.
“I don’t know what to do with this warmth, Josh.”
Josh sighs softly. Wraps his arms tighter around Pau.
“We’ll figure it out. We always do,” he whispers.
They fall asleep like that, tangled in the afternoon light, letting everything wait a little longer.
Nothing else really matters.
***
The lights outside flicker soft shadows across the room. Pau stirs first, shifting slightly under the sheets. He realizes Josh is still there— warm, steady, breathing slowly against his chest.
Josh opens his eyes moments after, already half-awake. He feels the warmth beside him and wonders how the hell they got here without imploding.
“What time is it?” he asks groggily.
Pau stretches with a sleepy sigh. “Who cares? You always nap like that around me.”
Josh stretches his neck. “You exhaust me.”
A lazy smile tugs at Pau’s lips. “Thanks, I’m flattered.”
Josh sits up, runs a hand through his hair. The silence hovers like an uninvited guest.
“You gonna tell me how you’ve really been?”
Pau blinks at him. “Now?”
Josh doesn’t smile. “Yeah. Now’s about right.”
He looks over, gaze steady.
“Pau, when I opened your door, this place didn’t smell like you. It smelled of beer. Of sex. Another perfume. It smelled like someone who wanted to self-destruct but just couldn’t give a shit anymore. ”
Pau’s jaw tightens, but Josh doesn’t stop.
“Was that the plan? Just keep fucking your way through cities until something feels good again? You trying to fuck up for real this time?”
Pau looks away. The question lands heavy, but gentle. He swallows.
“Wow,” Pau says, his voice low. “Didn’t know you came all the way here to.. You know I didn’t even ask for you to come here.”
“And what? You didn’t want me to?” Josh answers. He leans forward slightly.
“Why are you here, Josh? Why do you still care? ” Pau asks. His voice cracks just a little, and then steadies.
“You don’t get to decide when people stop loving you, Pau.”
Pau laughs, bitter and soft. “Oh, Josh.. Still?”
Josh pauses, something raw flickering behind his eyes.
“Did they... ever make you laugh?” he asks quietly. “Whoever they were. Did they hold you like they knew you? Like I held you?”
Pau stiffens.
“Did I ever cross your mind while you were with them?” Josh’s voice barely rises, but it’s sharp in all the right places. “Or was I just some chapter you closed? Like Marni?”
“That’s not fair,” Pau says, barely above a whisper.
Josh looks at him, gaze unreadable. “No, it’s not. But neither was watching you disappear. Hurting yourself.”
Pau turns to face him now, eyes sharp. Not angry. Just exposed.
“You come here asking for questions I don’t have answers to. Don’t expect for something I don’t even know I can give. I’m not fine, Josh. I haven’t been for a while. You’re smart. I think you figured that out already.”
“Nobody said anything about that. I came here because I wanted to, Pau. I have no script here. This is the most clichéd, fucked-up thing I’ve ever done… and the stupidest part is knowing I’d still only ever do it for you.” Josh stares at him.
“Do you want me? Is that it?” Pau asks softly, like if he said it any louder, he would just burst.
Josh does not answer. His breath catches. He doesn’t think. Doesn’t hesitate.
He leans in and kisses him.
Pau kisses back. His lips trembles. Josh almost tears up. It feels merciful, like forgiveness doled out for an apology never stated.
It's almost hesitant, aching in the way both of them are terrified they’ll break something by wanting too much.
He’s here.
“Is that what you needed to know?” Pau whispers.
I’ll always find you.
Josh’s hand brushes lightly against Pau’s jaw, thumb grazing just under his lip.
“I just wanted to see if you’d still let me,” he murmurs.
Pau swallows. Looks at him like he might fall apart. “I don’t deserve you. I never have. Never will. Not anymore.”
Josh cups his face. “I don’t know what we are anymore,” he breathes. “But I still want to be the one who finds you.”
They lie back down. The sheets rustle. Their legs brush again, and neither one moves.
“I’ve got a long way to go, Josh,” Pau murmurs into the dark.
“I know,” Josh whispers. “And I will wait for you anyway.”
***
They stay that way for a bit, fingers near each other but not holding, until both their phones start vibrating non-stop. One buzz, then another. And another. Notifications after notifications.
Josh groans, leaning his head back against the headboard. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
Pau just lets out a quiet, breathy laugh, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “What?” he says playfully.
They pick up their phones at the same time.
Saja Group Chat:
Jah:
PAU. PAU. TELL ME IM WRONG.
IS JOSH IN TAIPEI?? SOMEONE POSTED A PIC OF HIM IN THE AIRPORT
Fil:
wait is that my hoodie Josh? DID U STEAL MY HOODIE TO SEE YOUR EX
Yves:
IS HE THERE WITH YOU YRA SAID HE’S GONE OFF TO A “CREATIVE WORKSHOP”
Fil:
BRO. CREATIVE WORKSHOP MY ASS 😒 PUT US ON A VIDEO CALL NOW.
Jah:
Please be safe, both of you 🥹
Yves:
Pau answer the goddamn phone. Josh stop being mysterious. We deserve answers. Or we’re booking a flight
Fil:
at least kiss where we can see it this time. 4k or nothing bro
Josh sighs, tossing his phone on the bed.
Pau bites back a grin, nudging Josh on the shoulder. “Well, wanna give ‘em a real show?”
Josh leans back, smirking.
“Careful there, I could just kiss you right now,” Pau says as he begins to settle back beside Josh.
“Shut up,” Josh says, trying to ward Pau off who’s leaning into him.
But he’s smiling too.
The world can wait in cycles, pretty boy. We’ve got time.
Chapter 8: Wherever This Here Is
Summary:
Custard bread, perfume shelves, supermarket aisles.
Pau and Josh spend a day pretending they’ve made it — touching the edges of something almost ordinary.
Sweetness, laughter, and old group chat chaos return. But under it all, the ache remains.
One of them is still running. The other is still choosing.
Notes:
I'm on X if you want to engage: @luna_in_limbo :)))
Chapter Text
🎧 FOR THE MOOD:
PRETTY BOY - The Neighbourhood
💿 FULL MIXTAPE:
Josh wakes up the next morning with a slow breath, the ache a dim humming in his chest. He reaches beside the bed to find Pau gone.
He hears a humming from the kitchen.
There’s Pau in front of the stove, his back to the door. He’s wearing one of his old band shirts, faded with a ratty neck, oversized sleeves. He’s barefoot and swaying his hips gently.
“Oh, I lo...
How, I lo-lo-lo-lo-lo...
I do...
I can't say it, but I know that I do...”
Josh leans against the doorframe and watches like he wasn’t supposed to.
This is why I have not recovered since.
Pau moves with a certain lightness, his hair just falling softly against his shoulders. Josh thinks his humming is still the prettiest sound he will ever hear.
Pau turns to him, smiling, like none of those sharp words ever left his mouth. Like he didn’t just dodge every single feeling Josh threw his way. This guy who crossed countries for him.
“Good morning, Jawline. Like what you see?” Pau says teasingly with a wink.
And Josh, god help him, melts.
Why did it have to be me?
“Pau, last night—” Josh starts.
Pau cuts him off with, “Do you like waffles or pancakes more? Anyway, I made both."
Josh pulls a chair.
Fine, whatever. Didn’t I say we’ve got time?
Pau grins, triumphant and boyish. He sets plates and mugs on the small table. Waffles and pancakes, as he said. He moves back to the counter to get the coffee and returns to pour it into Josh’s mug.
Josh doesn’t say anything. All he can think about is how much he wants to hug him. Maybe he can give him the quiet he wants. Someone who doesn’t run like he does.
God, I never stood a chance.
Pau brushes a bit into Josh, trying to reach the syrup. Josh catches a whiff of his scent.
“Is that my perfume?” he asks.
“Sorry, I couldn’t help it,” Pau smiles at him shyly. “Eat, before it gets too cold.”
Josh knows there’s so much to be said, but perhaps this is not the moment for that.
He places his elbows on the table, leans a bit closer to Pau. He stops just at the base of his neck.
“I like it when you smell like me,” Josh whispers with a grin.
“This—is my favorite,” he continues, as he lays a pinkie finger on Pau’s lips. “Not your soggy waffles.”
He pauses to look at him a bit, then gives him a tiny kiss on the nose.
“My neck, Josh? God, you’re gone and I haven’t even started.” Pau smiles fully, that smile that turns his eyes into crescents.
Josh notices how the smile reached his eyes. His cheeks flush. It feels like an answered prayer. Like the sunlight crept in when he wasn’t looking.
“There we go. That’s more fun, isn’t it? God, you’re good.” Pau says, his hands tugging on Josh’s sleeves.
Josh rolls his eyes, but the corner of his mouth betrays him with a smile.
“But, Jawline... You know what’d be even more fun?” Pau looks down at his hands, like he’s hesitating to continue.
Josh looks at him quizzingly. “What, Hair?”
Oh. Old nicknames. Here we are.
“A date,” Pau says softly, looking at Josh with his doe eyes. Eyelashes fluttering. That smile again that’s always gotten him out of trouble.
Josh blinks. “A what now?”
“A date. A real one. You. Me. You know,” Pau answers back, less testily this time. Like he’s made up his mind. Like he knows Josh won’t say no.
He’s here.
“Tomorrow?” Pau says, hands under his chin.
“Tomorrow,” Josh answers. He forks a bite of his waffles and closes his eyes.
I said I’ll wait all my life, right?
Pau claps. Small ones.
“You’re insufferable, you know,” Josh says, softly laughing. He shakes his head.
“But cute. You forgot to add cute,” Pau adds with a wink.
Outside, his spirit plant starts to flap in the gentle Taipei breeze. For what appears to be the first time. In a long time.
***
Josh tells Pau he needs to run some errands for the day, meeting off-record with a Taiwanese record exec being one of them. You should be the one doing this, being CEO, he tells him, and Pau smiles sadly.
“That,” Josh says, pressing his finger to a pout that has formed on Pau’s lips, “is why I’m going instead of you.”
“Thank you, Josh,” Pau answers with a quiet sigh.
Josh wanted to ask ‘for what’, but it’s too early in the morning, and he’s got to be focused. One of them has to be the adult. It has been him for the longest time, but he doesn’t always mind.
“Take your time,” he says instead. Softly.
Pau catches the softness and shifts his tone. Lighter. A little more playful.
“I think I want to write a song today,” he says, suddenly beaming.
Josh smiles, hoping it was true. This pretty mess needs it.
“I won’t be gone long. Don’t trash the place again,” he says.
“This is my apartment,” Pau says with his arms crossed.
“Oh? I cleaned it, didn’t I?” Josh answers teasingly. He plants a kiss on Pau’s head and heads for the door.
He steps on something. That guitar pick from Taichung printed in neon. He holds it tightly, then gently eases it into his pocket.
When he looks again, Pau is staring at the window. At his spirit plant.
“Custard bread!” He hears Pau call out, as the door gently closes behind him.
Custard bread. My pretty boy’s still here.
I’ll do everything right if it means you’ll stay.
***
At some point or another, Pau knows he has to think about it. Sit with it. All of it. Especially Josh.
They don’t have the luxury of a clean slate, but in his heart, Pau knows he wants to be better. The question is if he can. And if, when?
When he got with Marni, Pau knew he ran from guilt straight into someone else’s arms. He left Josh to carry that betrayal like a ghost long after the door shut behind him. And it haunts him, that image of Josh alone with the hurt he handed over so carelessly. He didn’t deserve that.
Josh sees him. Really sees him. Always has. That much he knows to be true.
But maybe that’s what scares him the most.
Not the failing. Not the wreckage. But the idea that someone could look at the mess he is—
and still choose… to choose him.
It’s so much grace.
It’s so hard.
Josh is like a fucking saint, and Pau thinks all he’s got are scars.
Whatever he sees in him, he cannot name. And regardless of whatever that is, Josh always remained.
But what if he finally sees something in him he cannot take? Something he cannot carry?
Because if he’s being honest, he barely sees anything in himself right now.
Nothing shining. Nothing even worth noting.
Josh might really be just dumb.
Imagine, this insistent, gorgeous man could have anything, anyone he wanted. But he booked a flight to here without even knowing where Pau exactly was. Who does that? Especially for this poor excuse of an ex. A sorry counterfeit of that shiny counterpart.
He picks up his Moleskin sitting by the table. Flips through it absent-mindedly until he lands on a blank page. He starts to scribble something.
“All of my dark and all of my shadow
What will it take
To have you here tomorrow?”
He underlines the phrase twice, thrice. It almost splinters the page.
He snaps the notebook shut, an almost electric feeling coming over him. Too raw, too strong.
The lines ring a little too true.
I can’t do this right now.
He feels the itch to run. Instead, he moves around the apartment. He finds it uncomfortable that everything still feels too loud in its stillness.
What if it were Josh who ran?
What then?
He crosses the small space to his balcony. Opens the door there. To his spirit plant that always looks like it’s waiting.
“Are you me?” he asks the plant exasperatedly.
The plant sits in its pot like it wants to say something. Something like, No, I’m not as complicated.
“Don’t look at me like that,” Pau hisses.
But the breeze nudges its leaves gently, like it forgives him anyway.
Today, I really want to try.
Jawline said to take my time.
***
Josh has just wrapped up the off-record meeting with the Taiwanese music exec. He walks out of the boardroom with a final advice from the guy.
“Don’t let him sit around for too long. Not when your group has the momentum.” Like he doesn’t know that. He lets it slip anyway. He knows it comes from kindness.
He calls Yra from the building’s lobby to give a quick update.
“What’s up, baby sitter?” Yra quips as he picks up.
Josh chuckles a bit. “I was just done with the exec meeting. Guy asked for our direction, our intentions. That sort of thing.”
“And?”
“I said we were resting,” Josh pauses a bit. “But that we’re coming back soon.”
“Who?” Yra says teasingly.
“Yra…” Josh says with a sigh.
“Ok then. How are you? How’s your big baby?”
“He’s not my baby.”
Yra laughs from the other line. “Right.”
“He’s not okay, Yra. I’m helping him out.” Josh protests, a quiet resignation in his voice.
“…Just get it right this time, boys,” Yra says with a steady tone.
Josh looks down at the floor. “I’m trying.”
“Both of you should try. Just saying,” Josh hears the faint sound of a door opening up from the other line.
“I’ll call again soon,” Josh says.
“Yeah, Jawline. You do that,” Yra laughs. “Bye.”
The line clicks.
Josh sets off to Xinyi, to that café. Custard bread ringing in his head.
From the sweetest voice he has ever heard.
Even sweeter than that damned custard—
You can’t even start to forget.
***
Josh stands at the counter of the Xinyi café and orders 2 bags of custard bread to go, but save a piece for here. He orders a latte as well. The café is warm, with reproduced art prints plastered on its walls. The lights hang low, but the atmosphere is cheery. 3 years ago, they used to come here. Pau and Him. Pau would wolf down a bag of custard bread so fast, like his life depended on it, even when they were never rushing. Pau always seemed to be in a race. With his eating, his showers, his dancing. His head. His heart.
Josh’s reverie gets cut when the attendant places his order on the table.
“Xie, xie,” he says with a smile. The attendant bows slightly.
Across his table, a group of young Taiwanese girls were giggling giddily, nudging each other. Their voices trying to be low, until Josh catches one of them looking his way.
He offers them a smile, waves a little. One of them reluctantly starts towards his table, her phone shaking in her hand.
“Hi, Josh,” the girl says breathlessly upon reaching him. “Picture, ok?” she continues in accented English.
Josh nods. Click. Click.
“Xie, xie. Enjoy Taiwan,” the girl says, and goes back skipping to their table. The girls giggle in delight.
He offers them a final smile, polite and practiced. But it always feels strange — being seen by the world while the one person who used to see all of him is still deciding if he wants to look.
The picture will get uploaded to the internet some minutes later. In another 2 hours, it will trend.
Josh in a café in Xinyi. With a latte and custard bread.
The stans never miss. The feeds become littered with countless retweets of Josh’s picture.
“creative workshop is eating Pau’s fave bread. Riiiigghhhtt???”
“I JUST WOKE UP JOSH IS IN TAIPEI??? NO DON’T WAKE ME”
“custard bread??? Yes king let us pick up the literal #Paujosh crumbs”
“if I see him with Pau next I’m gonna deactivate. I cant”
Josh’s phone starts buzzing. The people in the café lift their heads and look in his direction, and then their phones.
Josh gives them the practiced smile again. He starts to leave.
His custard bread, half-eaten, sickeningly sweet for his taste. Unlike the one who waits at that apartment, who asked him for this.
***
Josh continues on to a nearby mall to check for nothing in particular. Maybe a new hoodie for Fil, as an apology for the one Fil says he stole. He walks aimlessly, his cap low, hoping not to attract further attention.
He sees a perfume shop from his periphery. Decides to check it out.
The shelves are littered with all sorts of fancy bottles. Most of them too tacky for his taste. He has only worn one perfume since he can remember — Chanel Bleu— because it just works for everywhere he has to be at. Everything he needs to be.
He picks up random bottles absent-mindedly, catches quick sniffs. Nothing lands until one bottle he’s sure he’s familiar with, but it’s the scent that hits him first.
Issey Miyake. Pau. 6 years and maybe close to a hundred bottles.
Josh holds the bottle in his hand, firmly, and he feels the start of a stupid montage in his head.
Pau hunched over his shoulder, squinting through his PC, trying to understand the game he was playing. Pau after practice, freshly showered, smelling like the freshest fountain of Josh’s dreams. Pau, dancing barefoot in their hotel in Tokyo. Pau in his car with the windows open, singing to a random tune playing from the radio. Him saying, “Only you, Josh. Only you.”
He quickly stops it after that. Shakes his head. The shop lady comes to stand beside him, asking in Mandarin.
“Zhè shì měi gèrén dōu xǐhuān de. Nǐ yě xǐhuān ma?” she says, smiling.
“Sorry, no Mandarin,” Josh replies in a soft voice, a shy smile.
“This, everyone’s favorite,” the shop lady tries to translate. “Do you like?”
The question is so simple, but Josh stares at her for a bit.
Do I like it?
He looks down and says,
“Shi de. I’ll take two. Please.”
The lady nods, and he follows her to the counter.
I’ll always find you. I’ll always choose you.
***
It’s late afternoon when Josh finally makes it back to Pau’s apartment. He calls to him, but it appears he has gone outside. He opens up his phone to call him, but in the end, decides against it.
A thought passes through his head, and he rushes to the bedroom. He checks the closet. Pau’s clothes are still there. His luggage shut closed, sitting cold in a dark corner.
He hasn’t run. Yet.
He puts the paper bag with the perfumes on it on the nightstand beside Pau’s side of the bed.
His side of the bed. Josh smiles despite himself. You aren’t sure if he’s let you in yet.
Josh goes back to the kitchen and sets the custard bread on the counter, where Pau can easily see it when he comes back.
Comes back.
He takes off his shoes, his clothes, and hops into the shower.
***
Josh wakes to feel a hand snaked around him, the air smelling like a faint whiff of Chanel Bleu. He must have fallen asleep right after taking a shower. In his boxers.
The A/C hums quietly. He half-turns to see Pau asleep still in his outside clothes, fingers resting against the garter of his shorts. He looks under the covers to see their legs tangled like it’s second nature. Pau’s jeans feeling heavy against his bare limbs.
He sleeps like he owns the world. Like nothing is chasing him. Like he’s content, if only Josh didn’t know better.
Josh fully turns and watches him in the golden afternoon light, brushing messy strands of hair away from his face.
He’s so fucking beautiful, is all he could think. In white, in black, in purple, and now— in this orange sunset. After all these years, he’s still not used to it. It feels like he’s always discovering something new. The gentle rising of his shoulders as he breathes, his collarbones that tell of stories. How he can so easily wreck him like that. How he would be a wreck and still hold him.
My pretty boy who runs. So fucking beautiful it may be a crime not to choose him.
Pau stirs, and his eyes flutter open, hazy and soft. His long eyelashes tap the top of his cheeks as he adjusts his vision. He catches Josh staring at him.
Pau lets off a lazy smile and stares back.
“Where’d you go?” Josh quietly asks.
“Out,” Pau half-shrugs, his fingers tightening around Josh’s waist. Josh wants to ask further, but Pau’s looking at him with his doe eyes. Like he’s memorizing Josh’s face. Like he’s trying to remember something, and then it came softly. Like a memory of a fun birthday party he once had.
“I left your custard bread on the counter. Did you see it?” Josh instead asks.
“Thank you. Will you feed me?” Pau asks, stifling a giggle.
“Do you want to?” Josh asks testily.
“Two bottles of Issey, too,” Pau says, smiling sweetly. Both their stares do not waver.
“You used to wear that, right?” Josh responds with a soft sigh.
“I like it when you say I smell like you,” Pau says. He laces his fingers with Josh’s.
Josh holds onto it like a bible that could save his life.
Pau leans in to give him a quick peck on the lips.
“Don’t fall in love with me,” he says, and Josh feels like it’s a warning that came too late.
“You don’t scare me, you know,” Josh says.
Pau just smiles, eyes slipping closed again like he’s heard but not listening.
Josh sighs, wrapping an arm around him anyway.
Pau turns to him after some minutes.
“Get up, Jawline. I’m starving. The custard bread is calling to me.”
And then he’s up, beelining to the kitchen.
I’m here. You’re here. We’re here.
Wherever this here is.
***
Josh was in the middle of putting his socks on when he caught a glimpse of Pau in the bathroom. Pau was in a white silk button-down, its soft creases falling off his chest like a waterfall. He’s tying his hair up in front of the mirror. A hair strand falls to the side, and Pau casually lets it slide. It’s so early in the morning. He has no business looking this good.
For a moment, Josh almost forgets his socks dangling limply on his left foot. He catches up with Pau, now reaching for perfume. He sees Pau staring at the now three perfume bottles on the sink. His hand casually reaches for the bottle of Issey, until it finally lands on Josh’s Chanel. He spritzes it once, twice. The third one to his back.
“You’re dressing up for me, Pretty?” Josh teases.
Pau turns to him, checking him from head to foot.
“You’re not so bad yourself,” he says, smiling, returning to check his face in the fogging mirror.
Josh comes closer, arms aiming to lock Pau in a hug from behind.
God, my perfume smells better on him. It’s unfair, Josh thinks.
Pau playfully swats his hands before he can wrap them around his waist. “Stop, you’ll crease my shirt,” he says, as he looks at Josh’s reflection behind him in the mirror.
“That’s not the only thing I can crease, you know,” Josh says playfully, settling for a kiss on Pau’s shoulder instead.
He leans away, but he doesn’t stop staring. Only because he does not have enough words.
“Yeah? We’ll see. Go away, please. You’re fogging up the mirror,” Pau says, winking.
It’s so easy.
So familiar. In the way he can always turn his knees to jelly.
He’s here.
Still.
***
They start at a small breakfast café on the outskirts of the city. Pau sits across from Josh under an umbrella outside, the sun shining brightly after a drizzle that just stopped. Both of them in sunglasses.
It’s fairly quiet, with only a random distant hum of a motorcycle piercing in between their bites.
“Take that off, will you?” Pau says, pointing with his lips to Josh’s sunglasses.
“Careful where you point your lips, Hair,” Josh answers, as he leans forward to take off Pau’s as well. “Happy?” he continues.
Pau squints his eyes and takes a sip of his coffee. Josh watches him like every move Pau makes is slowed just a half-step.
“You just wanna touch me,” Pau quips. “Oh my god, Josh, you’re staring again.” He takes a bite of his waffles and then ice cream.
Josh rolls his eyes but smiles anyway, chin resting on his palm.
“I’m not staring.”
“Oh, what then?” Pau asks, fake-annoyingly.
“I’m looking,” Josh says, a small smile forming again at his lips.
“At?”
“You.”
Pau grins helplessly.
It’s going to be a long day.
***
Pau says they’re going to the artisanal shops next, not far from where they are. Josh lets him lead. It’s not even noon, and Pau has never looked so alive. If this continues, Josh thinks he will not be able to trust himself. He can still crush him with the single bat of an eyelash. It’s so ridiculous.
They were waiting for their bill when their phones buzzed, Pau in mid-bite of Josh’s waffle.
“What now?” Josh says as he picks up his phone.
The boys are video-calling from the group chat.
He sighs but answers anyway.
The screen fills with Jah’s childish grin, Yves sipping something violently green, and Fil lounging with bedhead and zero shame. They’re in their offices in Manila.
Fil:
“ARE YOU WITH HIM YOU LYING PIECE OF SHIT?”
Josh laughs and pans the camera to Pau. Pau waves to them with both hands.
Jah:
“OMYGOD ARE THOSE WAFFLES YOU NEVER EAT WAFFLES. IT’S A DATE IT’S A DATE I THINK I’M GOING TO COLLAPSE”
Yves:
“It’s disgusting how cute you are I feel like throwing up.”
Fil:
“So soft of you to take Pau out on a field trip, Josh. I hope your brain cells finally align.”
Pau crosses over to the chair beside Josh, finally seen in full on camera. He laughs, the really easy type. He leans into the frame, sips from Josh’s half-finished matcha.
Pau:
“Soft is cleaning my apartment while I’m out, bro. But he’s cute, so I’ll keep him.”
Josh gives him a look, but can’t help the smile tugging at his mouth.
Fil watches Josh closely, like he catches something. Barely there. A little off. His tone shifts a little.
Fil:
“You good though, bro? You look... tired. For someone supposedly on a breakfast date in Taiwan.”
Josh’s smile falters for a second. He shrugs, playing it off.
“I’m fine. Just adjusting. Different city, you know.”
Fil stares at him through the screen. Smirks anyway, because that's the role. But the loyalty’s there, quiet and steady underneath.
Yves:
“Maybe Pau’s tiring him correctly.”
“Not yet, Yves. Not yet,” Pau says teasingly, as Jah crinkles his nose in the background.
Fil:
“Alright. But if this beautiful mess breaks you again, you know who’s sleeping between you two in that Taipei apartment, right?”
Josh chuckles, light but honest. “Yeah,” he says.
Pau watches the exchange, something unreadable flickering in his eyes—but he doesn’t say anything. He just keeps smiling, keeps stealing Josh’s food.
The boys keep shouting over each other, teasing and loud, filling the quiet spaces between.
The bill comes, and they say goodbye to the boys.
Pau holds Josh’s hand under the table. Squeezes it once.
He lets him.
***
They continue to the shops, where Pau keeps stopping at every trinket he sees. They check out a porcelain shop, and Pau sees a mug he likes. He picks it up, brings it closer to the light. Checks every part of it.
“Do you like that?” Josh asks, his arms carrying a bag of random knick-knacks Pau bought because he said they made him feel things.
“I should get two,” Pau catches himself mid-sentence. Josh looks at him searchingly for a bit, then drops his eyes.
“This one, then. And then that one you’re holding,” he says.
Pau smiles at him weakly. “They’re not matching.” He looks at Josh with eyes that look like they’re searching for affirmation.
“They don’t need to,” Josh says, and gently nudges him to the counter.
Josh asks that they end at the supermarket. It’s nearly evening, and he tells Pau his cupboards at the apartment are empty and need replenishing. Pau laughs a bit bitterly, telling Josh it’s so mundane. Josh looks at him tenderly, saying it’s so hard to keep him alive.
Josh takes care of all the essentials, picking them up with ease. He doesn’t need a list. He can do this like clockwork. Pau keeps putting random items in the basket. A box of giant strawberry Pocky. Gummy bears. Fruit Loops. Josh shakes his head, but he doesn’t argue.
Let him live.
Josh stands in front of a sauce shelf, trying to reach a bottle of oyster sauce.
“Why not this one instead?” Pau asks, pointing to another bottle on a lower shelf. “You can’t even reach that one.”
“This is what I like,” Josh says a little too quickly. Pau looks at him, then reaches for it. He puts it into the basket.
“I think you just took me here so you could have someone pick up the things you can’t reach,” he says, grinning.
“Fuck you. Let’s go find the ramen packs,” Josh says after a beat.
“Pau, 1. Josh, 0,” Pau answers teasingly. Josh rolls his eyes.
Make that 6 years, a hundred Issey bottles, and zero. Josh thinks as he walks toward the next aisle.
***
At the ramen aisle, Josh takes 10 packets of the spicy ones and begins to put them quietly in their basket. Pau stops his hands, takes 5 packets, and returns them to the shelf. He reaches for another 5— this time, it’s the plain ones.
“Don’t you like your ramen spicy anymore?” Josh asks, confused.
“You never liked the spicy ones,” Pau says quietly.
“I think you’re wrong there, I mean… look at you,” Josh says teasingly.
“Josh!” Pau squeals.
Josh lets their finger brush for a bit, and Pau looks at him like he will never need a ramen packet ever again with him by his side.
For a second, Josh believes this could be true.
This much is true.
He feels his phone buzz in his pocket, pauses to check it. It’s a message from Fil.
Fil:
Hey whipped cream. Call me when you’re not delusional. Just checking in on u.
And my hoodie, bro. That shit’s limited edition. Even more than u two
“Who’s that?” Pau asks, attempting to take a peek at the screen.
Josh returns the phone to his pocket. “It’s Fil,” he says.
“Did something happen? That bitch never texts. What’d he say?” Pau says, quizzically.
“Just checking in. If I’ve gotten crazy again over you,” Josh says, without missing a beat. He checks to see Pau’s reaction.
Pau plays with a hair strand with a finger, then lightly bites the same finger afterwards.
“Well, have you?” he says, smiling.
He runs to the counter before Josh can say another word.
From the corner, a fan catches the interaction, holding her breath. She takes a photo, then squirrels away. Her heart jumping wildly in her chest in delight.
Chapter 9: Magnets
Summary:
Josh and Pau slip into something that feels almost like a life: quiet mornings, old comforts, and the ache of what still lingers.
But under the warmth, questions simmer — about timing, truth, and whether this pull between them is enough.
Notes:
You made it here, bestie? You earned the smut. But make it emotional ;))))
I'm on X if you want to engage: @luna_in_limbo :)))
Chapter Text
🎧 FOR THE MOOD:
WANT U AROUND - Omar Apollo x Ruel
I WANT YOU - SB19 (again cos why not lol)
THINKIN BOUT YOU - Frank Ocean
💿 FULL MIXTAPE:
Josh awakes to find Pau scrolling on his phone, a smile on his lips. It’s been seven days or so now, and Josh thinks he can get used to this.
Slow days in bed, tangled under the covers. Pau and his awful cooking.
His bottle of Chanel already half-empty.
Pau’s hair on his face. Holding hands on train rides.
It’s like they never ended, but in the back of his mind, Josh knows it might only be a matter of time.
It's so easy to drown that thought out when Pau holds him. When he throws a glance his way. When he kisses him.
Pau notices him staring and ruffles his hair. “Jawline… we’re trending again. Look,” Pau says animatedly while pushing his phone towards Josh.
It’s a photo of them in that ramen aisle. Fingers barely touching, as the zoomed-in photos tell.
"I can be the bread in their cart, I can be the oat milk, I can be the receipt—JUST LET ME BE NEAR THAT LOVE #PauJoshRamen”
“ when he grabbed the ramen and josh is just smiling like an idiot. Idk anymore let me live”
“ marni we hope you’re ok”
Josh lets out a groan.
“What, you don’t like it?” Pau says, his eyes rolling. ‘Taipei’s hottest couple’? Damn, they’ve got good taste.” He nudges Josh’s arm.
“What if we made it true? You know... again,” Pau says softly, turning to Josh.
Josh freezes for a second. Feels a slight tug in his chest.
What if? Is this it?
This much is true?
Which much?
Josh forces a laugh, rubbing the back of his neck.
“Oh yeah? And what happens when you get bored again, huh? Dump me on the next flight out?” he teases with a slight edge.
Pau looks at him for a beat, then pouts dramatically. He lets out a heavy sigh.
“I’m just saying, Josh.”
Josh wants to say something, something to tether them both. But something in Pau’s eyes tells Josh something has shifted. Is it too early? Too late?
Which much?
“Coffee?” he says instead.
He sees Pau smile to himself as he gets off the bed and starts walking to the bathroom.
***
Pau was in the shower when Fil called. Josh picks it up grudgingly.
Fil:
“Honeymooning in ramen aisles. Oh, fuck me up and down, why don’t you.”
Josh:
“What, you miss me so much you’re looking for me in stan accounts? Aww, bro.”
Fil doesn’t bite. His tone is easy, but his words are sharp.
Fil:
“I told you to call me when you’re not delusional. I guess you still are?”
Josh:
“There’s nothing to say, Fil.”
Fil:
“Cut the crap. You alright?”
Josh sighs, looking up at the ceiling. Why does everything feel so heavy this early in the morning?
Josh:
“I don’t know, Fil. I’m... trying,” he says in a quiet voice. Soft. Honest.
Fil hums, quiet for a second.
Fil:
“You’re in deep again, huh? My boy, you can be straight with me.”
Josh laughs, but it’s small.
Josh:
“I don’t think I was ever out, bro.”
Fil lets out a breath through his nose.
Fil:
“Oh my god. You’re fucking putty to him. Tale as old as time.”
Josh laughs despite himself.
Fil:
“Listen. I love that guy too, you know that. But Pau... he’s chaos. You can’t keep letting him spin you around until you forget what you want,” he says in a firmer tone.
Josh falls quiet, biting his lip.
Fil:
“Promise me you’ll look out for yourself, too. Not just him.”
Josh closes his eyes for a second, the weight of it all settling in his chest.
Josh:
“I’ll try, man. Thank you.”
Fil chuckles, light but warm.
Fil:
“I love you, bro. That’s good enough. For now.”
Josh:
“Aww… don’t worry, I’ll bring your hoodie back.”
Josh lets out a small smile.
Fil:
“Yes, you whipped little shit. And him too, like that’s not what you really fucking want.”
They hang up.
Josh takes a deep breath, throwing the phone back on the bed. He gets up and hears Pau humming again in the kitchen.
Which much?
The ache never really leaves.
***
In Manila, Marni watches the afternoon news. She reads the entertainment ticker over and over.
“Pau and Josh Spotted in Taipei: Fans Speculate on Rekindled Friendship... or More?”
Her phone lights up with notifications from old fan circles, friends who know her story. One of them asks if she’s okay.
Okay is not the word she would use.
Neither angry.
Sad, maybe.
In her heart, she knew. She’d always known. Even before she asked Josh about him and Pau.
During those times, she thought she’d just play along.
It was her bed that Pau came home to at night. She that he kissed good night, good morning.
She sips her tea, steady but tired.
There was always something about the way Pau spoke about Josh. About how Josh looked at Pau like he was the sun and thunder combined. How Pau smiled at Josh in a way he never did with her. That smile of his that turned his eyes into crescents.
It hurts, of course it hurts. It’s the type of hurt you feel for people more than yourself. These two people who look like they’re clearly made for each other, but don’t seem to know that. Or accept it to be true. That kind of love’s both brave and afraid in all its pushing and pulling.
She thinks she made the right choice to let him go. He was never really hers to keep.
She turns off the TV and prepares for dinner.
***
The same night, Pau insists on staying in. They are perched in front of the TV, watching a romcom that Pau has seen a number of times already, over the years.
“This thing again?” Josh asks, shoving chips into his mouth.
“You’re not even watching,” Pau says, inching a bit closer. Their knees almost touch.
Josh looks at him, then at their knees.
“What? Like you’re so surprised,” Pau says.
Josh smiles at him, puts a hand on Pau’s lap. He feels him jolt a bit.
“You may wanna save that for the cameras,” Pau says teasingly. His voice shakes a bit.
Josh moves a little closer. His hand now drapes over the couch, where Pau’s head is.
“You’re the one who does that,” Josh says, grinning.
“Oh, really now,” Pau says as he rolls his eyes.
On the TV, the two leads kiss. Pau stifles a smile.
Josh holds his chin, turns Pau’s face into him.
“I hate how I still want you after all of these years.”
“Why?” Pau asks, his breathing heavy. Their faces only inches away.
Josh kisses him quickly. Pau’s eyes widen. Before Josh can pull back, Pau pulls him closer and kisses him back. Deeply. Slowly.
He catches a whiff of Josh’s perfume, and he feels like he’s going crazy. He laces one arm behind Josh’s nape, the other landing on the small of his back.
Josh can feel Pau’s breathing on his neck. His lips hover a bit, and then come the tender kisses.
Josh has his eyes closed, but he feels like he’s seeing stars. Pau looks up to him, and in between the heavy breaths and wet kisses, he bites Pau’s lower lip.
Pau lets out a muffled gasp, but he doesn’t let go. He feels like floating and grounded at the same time. Safe and saved.
It’s Josh who lets go first, pulls away for a bit. He looks at Pau with pleading in his eyes.
“Do you want this?” Pau asks, almost breathlessly.
“Always,” Josh says, and then kisses him again.
The movie reaches its end credits, but neither of them cares.
Behind them, the warmth of the bedroom calls.
It feels like a ‘welcome home.’
***
Pau gets on the bed first. Josh follows closely behind.
He stares at Pau sitting on the bed, an empty space beside him. There’s a lamp in the corner that hasn’t been turned on until now. It casts a dim light in the room, and when one moves, it makes the shadows sharper. Heavier.
He looks so soft, so frail. Like he hasn’t been going around stealing touches from strangers. Like he hasn’t broken Josh’s heart a thousand times over.
Josh knows that when he gets on that bed, everything will be over for him. His walls, his defenses, all crumbling down like they never existed.
Pau takes off his shirt. His stare at Josh doesn’t waver, but there’s something in his eyes.
Sadness. Longing.
Josh swallows whatever it is that’s forming at the back of his mouth. Hurt, pride, forgiveness, lust. He shushes down the noises in his head.
Damn it. I already crossed oceans. What more this space?
He takes off his shirt.
Something shines in the corner of Pau’s eyes.
***
Pau hears the creaking of the bed first before he sees Josh’s face in front of him. Josh sits on top of him and puts Pau’s hands to his chest. It sends shivers down Pau’s spine.
Josh holds his hands tighter. “I’m here, Pretty. I’m here.”
“Let me ground you,” Josh whispers. Pau nods.
Josh slides Pau’s shorts down, slow and sure. Pau zones out, mind blurry, heart hammering. Just a thin layer left between them—heat pressing into heat, need humming loud in his ears.
He feels Josh’s hardness against his. The hardness is different from everything he’s felt from anyone else.
It’s hardness that feels stable. Hardness that makes him feel soft.
Seen.
Wanted.
Josh starts to grind softly, holding both of Pau’s hands.
“I want you, Josh,” he says, almost on the verge of tears.
Josh cups his face. “I know. I know.”
He pulls down both of their boxers and thrusts. Slow, like he wants to freeze the moment. His body on his. His skin on his. His fucking heart, again, on his.
“Open up for me, pretty,” Josh whispers, as he presses a hand on Pau’s inner thighs.
Pau spreads his legs. Helpless at the saint’s altar.
“Wider, please.”
Pau does. He wants to turn away. To hide. But something in Josh’s voice, his steady rhythms, pins him down like light.
What if it were Josh who ran?
He bites his finger. Moans. Every thrust burns through him, like coming home to a fire and wanting to embrace the embers that remain.
The prettiest voice I’ll ever hear.
The sensations dull all of Josh’s senses. Pau’s hands on his ass. Pau, pinning his back to the bed. His mouthy kisses. The hunger in his hands, like he’s searching for something. He returns it all, his whole body acting on reflex. Like a magnet hopelessly clinging on to Pau and this moment.
Pau’s warm breath on his nape, thrusting sideways from behind. Josh feels like he’s going to combust, and he turns to his side. He faces Pau, who has his eyes tightly shut.
“Open your eyes, Pretty. Look at me,” Josh says softly. “It’s me.”
Pau opens his eyes and stares at Josh.
“You’re different, Josh. You always have been,” he says and kisses him.
Josh shifts positions so he’s behind him. Every thrust he makes landing on Pau like promises. Like apologies.
The air is heavy with sweat and hush.
Pau lets out a muffled scream— “Josh!” — but it sounds like a dam breaking.
Beautiful in black. In purple. In orange. In red.
Hot liquids pour out of them, but they don’t shift for a moment. Pau shakes, and Josh collapses beside him.
The lamp is on the floor. The sheets are damp. Their bodies glistening.
***
“Wow,” Josh says, breaking the silence. They both lie on their backs, eyes glued to the ceiling.
“I think you ruined my lamp,” Pau responds, smiling.
Josh turns to Pau. “I think you ruined me.”
He wipes the drops of sweat that have formed on Pau’s forehead, tucks a loose hair strand behind his ears.
“I always ruin you, Josh,” he answers softly.
Josh offers him a little smile in return. “Yeah, you do.”
“I think I need a cigarette,” Pau says.
“What for? You can have me in between your pretty fingers,” Josh says teasingly.
“That’s exactly why,” Pau answers, as he tries to unpin himself from Josh’s arms.
Josh tightens his grip on him.
“Oh my god, let me go,” Pau says with a giggle.
“No,” Josh says. He buries himself deeper into Pau’s neck.
“Stop, or I’ll chain you to me.”
“I would really, really like that.”
Pau plants a soft kiss on Josh’s cheek. “You tire me. Literally.”
Josh loosens his grip with a smile. He lets Pau go and watches him stride towards the balcony.
That’s the angel who wrecks me.
***
Pau leans against the railing, his cigarette in hand, lighted but barely smoked. His eyes drift back to the glass door, to the figure softly curled in his bed.
I’ve looked for him everywhere, and now he’s here. For me. With me.
God, it feels so good.
I didn’t even need to ask. He just found me. Like he always does. Like he has the map to me etched on the back of his hand. When I can’t even find my own compass. Or remember if ever had one.
You’ve got to wonder what he sees in me.
How the hell do I even start to deserve him?
I don’t even know if I deserve me.
All I know is that my chest feels tight when he isn’t looking.
Like that’s enough. My audacity to hope like it should be, right?
He exhales slowly, the cool night air stinging his lungs.
There’s an ache in his chest he’s certain isn’t just loneliness for the sake of it. It’s all the choices he should have made. All the years lost because he refused to be brave. Something else so heavy, he feels like naming it will leave him shattered.
But what’s there to shatter anymore? This empty fucking shell with a head full of pretty hair?
This fuck-up who uses his perfume because he can’t say, ‘don’t go, don’t leave’?
He laughs bitterly. Flicks the cigarette into an ashtray, running a hand through his hair.
What the fuck am I doing?
His eyes drift towards the night sky above. A single star shines brighter than most.
I’m too tired to run.
But I don’t know how to hold him without being afraid I’m going to break him.
Maybe I better fucking try.
***
Inside, Josh turns his back to the balcony and pulls the blanket over his head, trying to will his brain to shut up. It’s so loud in there.
It feels so natural, so real. The way they can so comfortably fit with each other like that. Pau kissing him like he’s finally going to stop running this time. His arms around his back falling so familiar, like he’s choosing him again.
But for how long?
He didn’t ask him to come, and he just did, like a moth to the fire. And what now? He burns again. Like the clichéd leads of the romcoms Pau loves.
Stupid. So fucking stupid.
Why did it have to be me?
Josh hears the sound of the balcony door closing. He pulls the blanket tighter, afraid to breathe out loud.
***
Pau steps back inside and walks toward the bed. The air in the room feels warmer, softer somehow, as he looks at the shape of Josh under the blanket.
Can he breathe under there? Because I can’t even breathe here.
He hesitates for a bit, then slips quietly beneath the covers. He finds Josh under the covers with his back turned against him.
He wraps an arm around Josh’s waist, pulling him close. Tentatively at first, like he’s afraid Josh will pull away.
Josh doesn’t. He tenses for a moment, then melts.
A moth to a fire.
Go on and burn my fucking ashes.
He sighs, voice small in the dark.
“Don’t... don’t do this if you’re gonna run again.”
The words hit Pau like a truck, but he rests his chin gently on Josh’s shoulder. Inside, his thoughts churn.
Am I ready for this?
He thinks about the nights alone in Taipei, about the people he used to fill the void,
about the mess he left behind in Manila.
He thinks about Josh, waiting for an answer beside him. Always finding him, even when he’s stopped looking for himself. Patient and constant in all the ways he can never be.
The saint to his ugly scars.
No answer is an answer, too. But that isn’t what he deserves.
What if I stop running?
Will Josh still be there at the finish line?
He lets out a soft sigh, his hands pulling Josh tighter.
“I like who I am when I’m with you, Josh. For you, I’ll try.”
Josh closes his eyes, feeling the rise and fall of Pau’s breathing behind him. He lets the word simmer in the dark, gripping Pau’s hands against his waist.
In this tiny room, in this foreign city, he feels like he’s won something. He just isn’t sure what.
I’m here. He’s here. We’re here.
Tomorrow can fix that.
Chapter 10: The Angel and the Wreckage
Summary:
Josh and Pau push past tenderness and crash straight into the truths they’ve avoided for years.
There’s love here—but also damage, and neither of them is ready for the cost of both.
Notes:
((Just 2 chapters for this week, loves!! This particular chapter was too painful to write huhu)
I'm on X if you want to engage: @luna_in_limbo :)))
Chapter Text
🎧 FOR THE MOOD:
GET YOU - Daniel Caesar, Kali Uchis
NEVER FELT SO ALONE - Labrinth
💿 FULL MIXTAPE:
“I think that’s mine,” Josh says as he walks into Pau, brushing his teeth in the bathroom.
It’s been ten days since the ramen aisle. Ten days since Josh said “always” and Pau didn’t run.
Ten days of quiet mornings and almost-evenings.
“You mean this?” Pau says as he points to Josh with the toothbrush in his hand. Josh walks towards Pau’s back and wraps his hands around his waist, his chin settling on Pau’s shoulder. He smiles at Pau in the mirror.
“So?” Pau continues, toothpaste foam at his mouth.
“Ugh, Paulo. It’s so early in the morning,” Josh replies.
“I can say the same about you,” Pau says as he tries to get away from Josh’s grip. “Do you need me to brush your teeth too? That why you’re here?”
“I need you,” Josh says, still staring at Pau in the mirror. He kisses his neck giddily. Pau doesn’t flinch.
He’s here. Still here.
“Ugh, Paulo. It’s so early in the morning.. get away from me, please. Can’t kiss me in the mouth with this foam,” Pau says as he rolls his eyes.
“Oh, that’s what you like then? I mean, I can do that,” Josh says, his grip on Pau’s waist loosening. A stupid smile plastered on his face. “Just say the word, pretty,” he continues with a wink.
“The word is ‘get away, ’ Josh. Shoo shoo,” Pau says as he leans into the sink to gargle.
“Ouch, ouch!” Josh puts a hand on his chest, acting hurt, and retreats to prepare breakfast.
Pau stares at the mirror, watches as Josh trots to the kitchen.
I’ll probably wreck him, but he can wreck me anytime.
Josh now knows exactly which mugs Pau takes his coffee depending on the time of day, or the weather (the blue one with the Snorlax print for mornings and also when it rains, the purple ceramic they got at the ceramic shops when it’s sunny and he’s had enough sleep), how long he hums in the shower before he actually starts bathing, how he holds his nose when he thinks Josh is not looking and he’s trying not to overthink.
Pau, in turn, knows how Josh organizes the fridge, how Josh writes expiration dates on masking tape, and sticks it to every pantry item they have— especially the milk boxes. Josh has always had a thing for time. Calendars. Cycles. He thinks about how Josh has always remained like him, like Josh. The Josh when he was 19, and now this Josh, close to a decade later. It’s like his Chanel Bleu. Stable, consistent. Quiet, but dashing.
He knows how every single morning, before he wakes, Josh will quietly tiptoe to the balcony to water his ‘spirit plant’. How Josh would check if he’s still sleeping before he gets off the bed (he never is.) Knows the weight of Josh’s head when it rests on his shoulder and he’s trying not to fall asleep. Pau takes it that it means don’t leave yet.
I don’t think you run away from that.
They orbit each other in gentle patterns. But there are pauses too. Glances that last a second too long. Questions left suspended in the air. Shared silences where they both think they’re just trying to be careful with each other. But there’s never anything said.
Pau tries to be good. He folds Josh’s shirts when they do laundry, even when Josh will only refold them a few minutes later. Presses a kiss to his temple when he thinks he’s asleep. Josh tries to be patient. ‘I’ll do everything right if it means you’ll stay’ continuously runs on his mind. Like a distant hum you can barely hear, but you know it’s your favorite.
He doesn’t ask where Pau disappears to during short walks alone, or why, when Josh’s bottle of Chanel finally ran out, Pau replaces it with three bottles more. His bottles of Issey and Eldo tucked away in the bathroom cabinet, sitting silently next to band-aids and aspirin.
***
Pau wants a night of dress-up. He says a new hole-in-the-wall bar popped up in an alley off Zhongxiao, and he wants to check it out. Show off the jawline on his arms.
Josh wears the clothes Pau puts out for him and lets him style his hair. If he’s being honest, he will prefer having Pau’s hands on his hair all night. All week. All month. All year. All eternity.
Pau put on clothes that made him look like he was straight off a magazine. A really cool one people use as a barometer. Maybe like Japan’s Popeye. All black. An asymmetrical, loose shirt. A Yohji Yamamoto skirt that runs to the middle of his calves. Doc Martens all laced up.
His hair falls on his shoulder casually, framing the sides of his face, and Josh can’t help but let out a small sigh.
Like an angel.
My fucking dreams in legs and Chanel.
Pau catches Josh staring and winks at him.
“Didn’t I say, ‘for you, I’ll try?” he says, smiling. Yet something in the way he smiled made Josh feel uneasy.
You never had to be anything more than mine.
He feels the need to say it out loud. Pau is still looking in his direction, like he’s waiting for him to say something.
But Josh just smiles.
Why did it have to be me?
***
They get to the bar, and Pau walks through tables as if he’s floating off some high Josh wasn’t privy to. Josh lets him, thinks about how Pau always looked the most alive under the lights. No matter how bright. No matter how dim.
Josh walks closely behind, now and then catching a whiff of his perfume on Pau’s trail.
They get to a table Pau has reserved in advance, a quiet corner near the bar stools. The bar is dimly lit, and in the background, there’s some mumbly RNB playing.
Pau closes his eyes and sways his head to the beat.
“We could’ve played your sad boy music in the apartment, you know,” Josh says teasingly, as he reaches for Pau’s hand beside him. He tugs on a finger.
Pau smiles at him. “Sad boy? Ouch,” he replies with a mock hurt.
Josh busies his other hand with the wooden coaster on the table.
Pau turns to look at him. “Don’t you wanna be here with me?”
“What makes you say that?” Josh asks.
“I’ve known you 8 years,” Pau replies blankly.
Their orders come. They eat first in silence, until Josh props up a fry into Pau’s mouth.
“Stop, there might be cameras,” Pau says, grinning, but his eyes dart around.
“I thought you wanted to be seen with me?” Josh asks with a sideways glance.
Pau purses his lips slightly. “Feed me some more,” he says.
***
The night goes on, and they move on to something stronger. Pau orders whisky neat; Josh goes for the same, because that’s what Pau always used to drink when he was trying not to say too much. Pau has never really been good at holding his liquor, and Josh wants to be prepared for that.
Their knees knock under the table. Pau lets his fingers brush Josh’s thigh lightly, tracing the seams of his pants, and Josh reacts immediately. He tilts closer, lips grazing Pau’s ear.
“If you go a bit more upwards, you’re gonna have a long night,” he whispers, voice thick with amusement and something heavier.
Pau giggles, tilting his head slightly. His eyes flutter at Josh. It feels like an invitation.
Josh’s hand lands on Pau’s knee, squeezes it once. Pau looks at Josh, his mouth slightly open.
“Josh, don’t you think you’re too sexy for 11:00 pm?”
Josh slides his hands up, deliberate and slow. A squeeze here and there.
“No. I don’t think when I’m with you.”
His hands reach Pau’s crotch, and he gives him a look.
Pau tips his head back and laughs, more breath than sound. He just lets him.
“Careful,” he says in between whiskey sips. “More.” He gulps.
“You’ve known me 8 years.”
“You’re tipsy,” Pau says.
“You like me tipsy,” Josh replies, pressing his mouth to Pau’s jaw.
Pau feels a current running through him. He does like Josh like this.
Bold.
Touchy.
A little too honest.
But tonight there’s something else under it. Something that scares him. Something that makes him feel like Josh isn’t just playing around. Like he’s trying to say something without saying it.
Pau pulls back just enough to search Josh’s face. He’s trying to search for clues, but he can’t get past his jawline.
He can wreck me anytime.
Before he can ask anything, Josh leans in again and whispers, “Gotta pee. Close your legs, Pretty. Don’t miss me too much.”
Josh disappears into the crowd, navigating between tables with that effortless sway of his.
Pau watches him go, still smiling. He shifts uneasily in his seat, the warmth of Josh’s breath on his body leaving a heat in his gut.
He turns to see a strobe of light landing on Josh’s back.
Like a halo.
The saint to his ugly scars.
***
Pau rests his chin in his hand, eyes scanning the room—dim and pulsing with muted color, flickers of laughter from other tables, the clink of glass, the low thrum of music trying to be sexy.
He wants to leave and take Josh out of here, try to show these people what real sexy is.
He taps his nail against the side of his glass. He doesn’t hear the voice at first.
“Is that you, Pretty Boy? Sej?”
He blinks and turns.
A man stands beside him. Clean-cut, sharp-jawed, the kind of handsome Pau would’ve chased down in a different life. A familiar flicker lights up in his memory. Skin, breath, dark sheets. Waking up sore. Taking the metro. Picking up that Jasmine perfume on the way home as a mask.
The man smiles knowingly. “Didn’t think I’d see you around again. Are you with someone tonight?”
Josh arrives, hearing the tail-end of the conversation. He looks at the man, and then at Pau.
Pau holds Josh’s hands. Smiles at the man weakly.
The man seems to understand. “What a shame. You were fun,” he says, throwing a glance at Josh, and then a wink at Pau.
“Call me when you’re bored, you still have my number, right?” The man continues as he starts to leave.
Pau feels the tensing of Josh’s hands under the table. When he looks at him, Josh is staring straight across, his jaws clenched.
“I don’t think so,” Pau replies with a polite smile. He feels Josh’s arm on his shoulder. A squeeze. Tighter than what Pau is used to Josh giving him.
The man gives Josh a final glance, clucks his tongue. He shakes his head and then finally leaves.
“Sej? That your name now?” Josh says curtly.
Pau turns to look at him. Josh just stares at him blankly.
He takes his jacket and walks out.
No, no, no.
For once, Pau has no words for the ache he feels inside.
The world suddenly feels too big and small at once.
***
Pau rushes back to the apartment, hoping to find Josh still there.
He opens the door to see Josh sitting on the couch in the dark, still in his outside clothes, a bottle of half-opened whiskey in front of him.
“
Don’t turn on the lights,” Josh says quietly.
Pau walks towards him, sits beside him on the couch. Tears begin to stream down his face.
“Josh,” he says, voice breaking.
He tries to move a hand to Josh’s leg, but he doesn’t quite reach it. He lets his hand fall to the space in between them instead.
“You wanna talk about what the fuck was that? Josh asks, staring at the whiskey glass in his hand.
“What do you mean, Josh?”
“What do you mean, ‘what’? What the fuck are you crying for then?” Josh hisses in between his teeth. The words feel like splinters. Pau lowers his head, sobbing quietly.
“I’m sorry, Josh.”
“You’re sorry for what?”
Pau clutches at his hair, his tears continuously falling.
Josh stands up and starts to pace around the tight space.
“You never fucking know. That’s always been the thing with you. Did you fuck that guy?”
Pau looks at him, eyes red and rimmed with regret.
“How many times? Sej? How many other names do you have here?” Josh pauses to take a swig of his whiskey.
“Did you fuck him when I was already here?”
Pau’s shoulders shake.
“Fuck you,” Josh says bitterly. “Fuck you.”
He throws his glass to the wall. Its shattered pieces now scattered on the floor. Pau flinches.
Josh leans on the wall, the broken pieces of glass around him. Pau starts to walk towards him.
He holds both of Josh’s hands, his eyes pleading, but he still can’t bring himself around to say something.
“I crossed a fucking ocean for you. And you can’t still be honest with yourself,” Josh says in between bitter tears.
“Josh, I told you I have a long way to go,” Pau says as he tries to cup Josh’s face.
“And I told you to take your fucking time. Not to continue fucking around,” Josh says, a bitter chuckle escaping him.
“I told you I will try.”
“You told me you liked yourself better when you’re with me. Was that just a line, then? Just to keep me hovering around? Because Paulo… you never even asked!”
Pau raises his voice. “ Because I don’t know what to ask! You’ve known me for so long, you don’t know I don’t know how to ask?”
“No. You just—let me. Like you always do. Let me love you, let me fight for you, let me stay—until you get tired, or confused, or scared.. and I’m always left. With my mouth hanging. With my heart in my hand. So fuck you. Fuck you.” Josh says, his eyes narrowing, shaking his head.
“And you think it’s easy? Being followed around by someone who has already decided I’m worth saving, when I don’t even know if I am? I told you I’m fucked up. Why the fuck are you still here? Oh my god, Josh! What do you fucking see in me?” Pau hisses, his face closer now to Josh.
Josh gets closer and pins Pau to the wall. “Your problem is that you still… think that you’re this nineteen-year-old who’s never enough… and then you go and treat people like that too. Like nobody will ever be enough. So you run.. But my god, Paulo… when the fuck will you grow up?” he says as he points a finger at Pau’s chest.
Pau grabs both Josh’s hands in a grip. “That nineteen-year-old thought the world was you, Josh. He’s fucked up now, but he still does.”
Josh finds himself blinking tears. “I want to fuck you so hard you have no other choice but to finally see me.”
Pau shakes the tears forming in his eyes again. “Yeah, because we’re so fucking good at that.”
Their eyes lock. The anger still sits there, curdling in silence.
Josh grabs Pau by the waist. His hardness feeling like the worst type of betrayal.
Pau doesn’t fight.
***
Josh cups Pau’s face and kisses him, almost brutally. Both their tears don’t stop from falling. Pau winces at the tightness of Josh’s grip, but he doesn’t pull away. He kisses Josh harder, hoping it will be accepted as a wordless apology.
He tries to move his tongue inside Josh’s mouth, imploring forgiveness in a language he isn’t fluent in. Josh turns and pins him to the wall. He fumbles with Pau’s belt, opens his fly, and shakes off his pants halfway.
Josh grabs his cock roughly, pressing on it with grit he has never felt with him, nor anyone. His sadness more profound than the pain and heat Josh’s hand gives his body.
“How hard do you need me to grab your fucking cock so you would stop fucking around?” Josh hisses.
Pau lets out a soft whimper. “Josh..”
“Oh, you fucking like that, don’t you? You lying little fuck,” Josh whispers near Pau’s ears as he pushes him further against the wall.
Josh begins grinding against him, still standing up. He takes off his shirt. The grooves of his abs glisten with sweat and force. He looks at Pau, still with the quiet tears in his eyes. For a moment, he forgets how angry he is—at him, at himself, at everything—and he presses his forehead against Pau’s shoulders, his grief coming in torrents. Shaking him uncontrollably, sobbing like a child who had hurt his knee playing, in a place he wasn’t even supposed to be in.
Pau tries to hug him. He swats away his arms. Pau takes off his shirt, his pants, his boxers, until what’s left is nothing. Just him, naked with all of his scars both imagined and real, his hair limp and strewn across his face.
Pau holds Josh’s face, turns it to him.
“Tell me you hate me,” he says in between tears.
“You only want me when it hurts,” Josh answers, his eyes laced with sadness and longing.
“Tell me. Tell me. Tell me so I can finally stop,” Pau says, almost pleading.
“I don’t want to stop. Goddamit, that’s the thing, I don’t want to stop, Paulo.”
Pau wraps his arms around him. “Tell me you hate me. Then fuck me. I won’t look away, Josh.”
Josh sweeps him off his feet and carries him to the couch, the sound of splintered glass crushing under his boots. When he steps, their reflections mirror off of it. Quietly. In the dark.
Pau sits staring at Josh, slowly taking off his clothes. There’s a heaviness to how he moves. Like even breathing feels painful. His legs look like forgotten towers that will crumble just in time.
Josh stands before him, naked now, like a map he feels he has had for so long, but never bothered using. His skin tinted in a pale blue by the faint city lights coming from the window. Tired, but beautiful.
Pau swallows a choke.
“It’s me, Paulo,” Josh says, arms both at his sides. “Tell me I’m real.”
Pau stands up from the couch and walks toward him. He gets on the floor and kneels. Hopes against hope that this will be enough. Certain with the way his knees graze the carpet that it’s not.
How do I begin to believe?
He looks up to Josh, his face just inches away from Josh’s cock. Hard and throbbing. Angry in the way it’s standing up.
“I’m here, Josh,” and he puts him in his mouth. He rolls his tongue on his cock’s head, slowly, then sucks it all in until it almost chokes him. He feels Josh’s hand on his head, pressing him closer.
Josh continues to grind on Pau’s mouth, but his tears won’t stop falling. Pau feels him shake. He stares up to see Josh quietly sobbing. He starts to stand up, maybe offer Josh some respite.
“No. Don’t stop,” Josh says bitterly, stifling his sobs. “I need you to look at me. See me.”
He lets Josh guide his head to the rhythm he pleases. Hard. Fast. The hairs on the back of his nape standing. He lets his anger run through him.
He does not blink. Not one second.
“Stand up,” Josh says. He abides.
I’ll do everything right if it means you’ll stay.
Like a moth to a fire.
A sinner at the altar.
The angel and the wreckage.
Josh pushes Pau to the couch with minimal effort. He gets on top of him, puts a finger to his hole. And then another.
Pau lets out a gasp.
“Ground me, Josh,” he says.
“Look at me,” Josh answers as his fingers get in and out of his hole in steady motions.
Josh enters him without warning, and Pau feels like an offering. A sacrifice. The fullness of Josh’s girth inside him feels like an embrace he doesn’t deserve.
He gets lost in Josh’s thrusting, each movement of his hips feeling more urgent and melancholy than the last. Pau feels his cock start to leak, consistent with the tears in his eyes.
“You’re a reckless, selfish asshole,” Josh says in between thrusts. He pauses for a bit and glares at Pau in the dark. His breath comes in faster, afraid of the next words about to come out of his mouth.
He says it anyway, like spit that’s long formed.
“You ruin everything you touch.”
He continues, mouth against Pau’s collarbone. “How does it feel, running away from anything that makes you feel much? Leaving anything that can’t keep up?”
“It’s me, Josh,” Pau softly mutters against Josh’s hair. “Stop forgiving me.”
“Is that what you want?” Josh says in between breaths.
“It’s you I want.”
“Fuck you. Fuck that.”
Josh climaxes. They crash into each other afterwards. The room is quiet except for the sound of heaving chests. So loud it almost deafens.
Josh sits still, his eyes fixed on the ceiling. Pau curls himself up on the other corner of the couch.
So small and frail with the weight of it all.
“This doesn’t fix anything, you know,” Josh says quietly.
“I know,” Pau responds as he shifts his stare to the window. The city lights still burn hotly in the dead of night.
“I’m tired of fighting, Josh.”
Josh looks at him and stands, starts walking towards the kitchen.
“Yeah, me too.”
The taste of cold water feels like an oasis in his throat. A promise trapped in concrete.
The shattered glass from earlier remains where they are.
On the floor. For whoever wants to clean it up.
***
The morning cold wakes up Josh. He finds himself still wrapped up in Pau’s arms, their breaths in sync.
Outside, the sky is grey, but for a brief, precious moment, Josh feels like everything is peaceful.
He inches away carefully not to wake him up. Sits up on his side of the bed, planting his feet on the cold floor. He feels the lamp from last night lying beside his foot. He picks it up and sets it on the nightstand. Behind him, he feels Pau stir, and then a rustling of the sheets. He stares ahead at the window.
“Morning,” Pau says softly.
Josh turns to him slightly. “You’re gonna break my heart again, aren’t you?” he says quietly.
Pau blinks. The words land heavy, even though they’re true. He swallows, not defending himself. He breathes it in.
“Yeah, probably,” Pau says in a tone that sounds soft even when he’s accepting it.
Josh lets out a shaky laugh, bitter and tired. His body feels sore, his eyes swollen. But beneath it all, he can hear the sound of his heart cracking.
All the years of coming back, forgiving, hoping, only to feel like second best to Pau’s fears and excuses. All his running away.
“I don’t know why I keep loving you when it feels like loving me is the last thing you’ll ever figure out how to do,” Josh says, his voice cracking.
Pau sits up slowly. He feels his heart twist, still too afraid to give the answer Josh deserves. He tries to reach out to him anyway, but Josh stands up, evading his hands.
“I’m sorry, Josh. That I’m not all here.. that I’m just not there yet,” he whispers.
Josh offers him a sad smile.
Here?
There?
Where?
He shakes his head once, bites his lower lip. He leaves the room.
Pau stays still on the bed, watching Josh’s back fade from view.
By sundown, Josh’s bags are packed.
One half-empty bottle of Chanel left in the bathroom.
***
They sit quietly on the cab ride to the airport. Pau insisted that he come with Josh so he can see him off. Josh hesitated for a bit, but before he could say something, Pau was already carrying his luggage out the door.
Josh looks at the buildings they pass, the roads, the trees. He tries to dampen the memories slowly flowing into his mind.
The only way forward is to leave.
Beside him, Pau alternates holding his nose and biting his nails.
Josh lifts a hand in a reflex to stop him, but catches himself mid-act. He lets it fall to his lap instead.
They get to the airport, and Pau walks him to the airport gate. He stares at Josh with his doe eyes, as if he’s pleading, but Josh knows his pretty boy still has not figured out what he is pleading for.
He watches as Josh shoulders his bag, and he doesn’t try to stop him. Josh lets out a heavy sigh and turns. He gives Pau a smile. It does not reach his eyes.
“Take care of yourself, will you?”
Pau nods and smiles, gentle— but sad.
“Go now, before you’re late.”
And then he’s gone.
Pau stands there long after the crowd swallows Josh whole, hands in his pockets, chest hollow.
The only way forward is to leave.
***
Pau spent the earlier parts of the night roaming around the city. He looks at the lights, all shiny and flickering, but they don’t lift the weight sitting on his chest. He goes to the supermarket, the one he and Josh used to go to, and he picks up ramen packs. Just the regular ones.
He rides the metro home, counting the stops. Josh is gone, and when he catches his reflection in the train window, he does not recognize the face staring back.
He walks up to his apartment, every step seemingly heavier than the last.
The apartment door clicks shut behind him with no memory of him opening it up.
It’s too quiet now. No TV noise and Josh’s feet tapping the coffee table. He goes out to his balcony and tends to his spirit plant. Even the water sliding off its leaves falls soundlessly, as if they, too, are afraid to ask for something.
The city feels so barren. So vast. No distant hum of motorcycles. None of the usual buzz it loads itself with.
It feels like it has decided to finally sleep after a long, long time. Sit with him quietly in the middle of what might be his worst mistake.
He goes back inside and sits on the edge of the bed, guitar leaning against the nightstand, untouched. He catches a faint whiff of Josh’s Chanel in the air, and for a moment, he feels like tearing up.
No, you don’t get to cry.
You didn’t even try.
He stares at the floor, mind spinning. He lets himself fall onto the bed, eyes staring straight at the ceiling.
Come on, hold yourself together.
This isn’t the first time.
It keeps coming back to him, the sadness in Josh’s eyes. His quietly leaving. Answers he deserved but he cannot give.
It will not be easy, but he knows plasters will no longer work on the hole Josh has left behind.
The only way forward is to leave.
I have to stop running.
It is he I want to fucking run towards.
A tear falls from his eyes. He falls asleep with all the lights turned on.
Chapter 11: Small Steps
Summary:
One of them returns to Manila and tries to piece himself back together.
Old friends show up. So do old questions.
Meanwhile, in Taipei, the silence is louder than ever—and someone finally picks up the phone.
Notes:
I'm on X if you want to engage: @luna_in_limbo :)))
Chapter Text
🎧 FOR THE MOOD:
💿 FULL MIXTAPE:
It’s the humidity that Josh feels first as he arrives in Manila. It’s a little past midnight when he gets through immigration, and he drags his luggage through the arrival gate. The weight inside his chest feels heavier than all the cargo that plane has carried.
He sees Fil waiting by the exit, arms crossed, a soft smile on his face. He’s the only one Josh told about heading back.
“Look who finally got tired of playing house in Taipei,” Fil says, grinning, opening his arms wide to pull Josh into a hug.
Josh lets out a weak laugh, but the tiredness doesn’t leave his eyes.
“Come on, bro. Let’s go home.”
Josh nods weakly, grateful but spent.
They walk to the car in silence, Manila’s quiet streets stretching before them.
Josh rolls the window down to make him remember — or forget — faster.
Sometimes, the wind helps. Maybe this can be one of those times.
He’s back home, but he feels like a part of him was left somewhere else he knows. Present on a map, but now uncharted territory.
“You gonna tell him you’re back?” Fil asks quietly, while waiting at a red traffic light.
“He even took me to the airport.”
The light turns green. Josh closes his eyes.
***
In Taipei, Pau finds himself waking up and reaching for the space beside him. It’s still empty. He was half-hoping the night would turn and Josh would be here, like one of his favorite romcoms. A fairytale. A goddamned miracle.
He looks to the ceiling and then around the room. All his lights are still on, burning quietly. Nobody to turn them off now, when he forgets.
He shifts to the space beside him, lingers on it a bit. He puts the pillow Josh used to lie on closer, inhaling the scent. Like a blind man trying to see through his nose.
He lets out a sad sigh and drags himself off the bed. He stands beside his bed like it will walk any minute and wrap him up in an embrace.
He takes off the sheets, the pillowcases. The blanket.
He walks toward his washing machine and throws it all in. Pushes the button on this thing that hasn’t been used in a long time.
The machine whirs softly, and he stands there watching it spin. Over and over.
Outside, the city begins to wake.
Pau walks to the windows and pulls his curtains open. The windows too.
Sometimes, the wind helps. Maybe this can be one of those times.
***
Pau spends the rest of the morning tidying up, but it’s not without pauses. It creeps up in random corners. The toothbrush they shared, sitting aimlessly on the bathroom sink. The metro card Josh thought he lost, so he got a new one instead — now found —quietly wedged under the coffee table. Its owner with no need for it, nor this city, or this person holding it now.
Pau goes through the motions like a clutch. Maybe this time is for all the things he used to push aside.
His glance catches the vampire-shaped clock sitting on top of the TV cabinet. It’s one of those stupid things they got when they went on a date that ended up in that ramen aisle.
The clock has run out of battery. Got stuck at 2:00, and made it look like the vampire’s fangs are anchoring it. It’s still right two times a day, though. He catches himself smiling. It’s not too bad.
Maybe I can start with that.
He hums as he starts to prepare lunch. The fridge still left with all the stuff Josh insisted he needs to survive.
Josh should’ve put himself inside this freezer instead.
***
It’s 5:00 pm, and he wonders where the time has gone. He takes a quick shower and decides to head out. Some dinner, maybe a few drinks after. He wants to take up space, feel some energy around.
He puts on an old hoodie, some wide jeans he’s forgotten he has. Hair tied up in a low ponytail. A Seiko watch he got from his first salary post-debut, its black leather frayed at the edges. But it still works, and it tells the time correctly as long as you wear it.
He surveys the perfume bottles he has. He leaves without spritzing anything on.
Sometimes, the wind helps. Sometimes, the sounds too. The smells.
Of the living, and those who have lived.
He finishes the last of the donut he got to-go as he rounds the corner of an alley he has long become familiar with.
It feels like another life, but it’s sounds. It’s smells. It helps.
Maybe I can start with that.
He quietly slips into the jazz bar downtown.
***
He sits alone in a far corner of the bar stools aligned in front of the counter. Orders a Long Island, and the bartender looks at him, gauging if he’s sure. He offers a small nod and a smile.
A musician plays a sad song on a guitar in the background. Pau listens to him intently. Quietly sips his drink.
A woman sits beside him, flashing a smile that says “Oh, finally, you again!”
He barely remembers her, but she hikes her top lower to show a tattoo of a rose between her breasts.
“You really don’t remember? Licking this rose over and over so you could make it bloom to a garden… that’s what you said, pretty. One just does not simply forget that—or you,” she grins giddily.
She leans in closer, a hand brushing his arm. Pau can smell something sweet, like cotton candy.
The him of a few weeks ago wouldn’t have needed many words. Her lips would have been bruised by now. In a matter of minutes, their clothes both gone.
Pau thinks it would be easy. It always is. To sink into this comfort, borrowed for a while. No ties, no pressure. But a high, at least. If only for a few seconds.
It is he who I want to run towards.
He leans away from the woman and lowers his glance to the drink in front of him. He looks at the lady once, shakes his head, and smiles politely.
“Not anymore, no,” he says with a quiet smile.
The bartender watches the scene, eyebrows raised.
“Well, we can’t all get the poets, right?” the woman says with a wink. She blows him a kiss and leaves.
Pau signals to the bartender and asks for the bill.
“You sick or something?” the bartender asks as he hands him his receipt.
He lets out a small laugh. Gets his wallet and pays in cash.
“Just getting out of it.”
And then he’s out on the streets again.
Sounds. Smells.
Small steps.
***
In Manila, Fil calls Josh.
“Get dressed, my boy. We’re taking you out.”
“Who’s we?” Josh asks.
“This is not a good look, bro. What do you mean ‘who’s we’? Us, of course! Yves. Jah,”
Josh groans, but he reneges.
They end up in a sports bar. Their table is loud, chaotic, full of bad jokes, and fried food. The boys missed him after some weeks of them being worried about him and Pau. Out of respect and love, they were just settling for updates through crumbs.
Somewhere between drinks, the laughter fades, and Fil nudges Josh with a knowing look.
“Alright, what’s the story, man? What happened in Taipei?” Fil asks in a low voice. The boys stop their banter, heads leaning in to listen.
Josh lets out a long sigh. The kind that says he’s been carrying this too long.
“I love him. I’ve probably always loved him. I think you guys... know too? But he... he doesn’t know what to do with that.”
Yves whistles low. Jah looks down at his drink.
Josh takes a gulp of his beer. He continues, voice breaking.
“I thought maybe this time would be different. But it’s like... he lets me close enough to feel everything, then pulls away before he can feel it too.”
Fil rests his arms on the table, steady. “So what now?”
Josh shrugs, something sad and frustrated lacing his voice. “I don’t know. Maybe I just needed to try one last time. Anyway… I’m here now.”
Maybe I can start with that.
The table falls quiet, the weight of it sitting with all of them.
Jah grins, trying to break the tension.
“Well... if you do get back together, you know we’ll all be there at the wedding, right?”
The boys’ laughs echo at the table. Josh knows it’s a form of quiet support, and he’s grateful. He raises a toast.
Fil raises his glass but watches Josh from the side, still quietly worried.
Checks and sees how Josh’s smile never reaches his eyes.
Because he knows Josh’s love for Pau has always been the kind that burns him alive.
A couple of buckets later, the TV in the corner flickers with an entertainment news segment.
The caption reads:
“Saja Boys Out Without Leader Pau—Where Is He Now?”
Clips from fans' stories flash across the screen:
Josh, Fil, Jah, and Yves walking into the bar earlier. Another one of them raising their bottles for a toast.
Laughing. Smiling. Pau noticeably still absent.
The reporter’s voice drones on:
"With leader Pau still on hiatus in Taiwan, the rest of Saja was spotted enjoying a night out in Manila. Fans are wondering... is everything okay?"
The boys groan collectively.
“Man, can’t we even grab some fried chicken without it being a national issue?” Fil says, his hands at the back of his head.
Yves laughs. “We should change our IG bios to ‘STAY TUNED! He’s still alive somewhere.”
Josh gives a small, tired smile. Fil pulls him into a cheesy side hug, ruffling his hair.
“Come on, leader stand-in. Smile for the people.”
Jah and Yves join in, squishing Josh in a dramatic group hug.
“Friendship, motherfuckers!” Fil screams.
They all laugh, loud and obnoxious, earning side-eyes from the other bar patrons.
For a moment, the noise fills the ache in Josh’s chest.
But when the laughter dies down, they all feel it: the shape of the absence Pau left behind.
They continue drinking until Josh passes out on the bar’s couch, and then flips coins to pick who’s dropping him home.
Yves wins the toss. “Do I have to bring him to Taipei? That’s where he lives now, doesn’t he?”
Jah laughs loudly and pulls out his phone. “Wait, I have a copy of his passport.”
“Stop, you fucks,” Fil says drunkenly, anchoring one of Josh’s arms on his shoulders. “Just take his other arm.”
***
Pau sits in front of the TV at his apartment in Taipei, quietly folding his clothes fresh from the laundry. He has spent the last two hours folding and refolding, trying to copy how Josh used to fold their clothes. There’s always something amiss. A crease here. A little too loose there.
The news clip flashes, and he pauses for a bit.
The boys, in a sports bar in Manila. Them walking side by side, holding it down like they always do. Even without him. A fan video of them toasting beer bottles, all smiles.
His eyes quickly search for Josh. He sees him in the middle, sitting next to Fil. He’s smiling, but it never reaches his eyes. You can always tell when it doesn’t. He rarely does that.
Pau lets out a slow breath. It hits him harder than he expected.
I miss them.
I miss him.
I miss… me.
He stares at the TV long after the news credits roll. Refolds his clothes another time and decides to pick up his phone.
He pulls up Marni’s name in his contacts, his thumb hovering over the call button.
He presses it, listens to the ringing on the other line. Not entirely certain whether he wants her to pick up or not. Just that he has to try.
***
Marni is jolted awake by her phone ringing at her bedside. She stares at the caller ID. It’s 1:00 AM.
Who’s this that cannot wait until morning?
Pau.
Oh. That’s a name she hasn’t actively thought about in a while.
She hesitates a bit, sits up in bed. She lets it ring twice before answering.
“Are you okay?” she asks gently.
On the other end, Pau exhales, voice softer than she remembers.
“I’m going home,” he says.
Silence stretches between them.
Marni closes her eyes, letting out a quiet sigh. She’s not angry, nor relieved. She wonders and questions are forming in her head, but for now, she thinks what Pau needs is an ear. And understanding. Someone to meet him where he is, wherever the hell that may be right now.
“Took you long enough,” she says quietly.
Pau lets out a small, broken laugh.
“Yeah.”
Marni hears a click and the line goes dead. That’s the only thing he says.
He’s going home.
Marni bites her lip as she sets her phone down on the bedside table. The questions in her head begin to form shapes in the quiet of her room.
Why did he call me?
Was it habit? Comfort? Closure?
She lets out a sharp sigh, running a hand through her hair.
Of all the people in his life, Marni thinks it should’ve been Josh.
She turns on her side in the bed, kicking away the covers to her feet. Reaches out to the phone beside her again, looking for a name.
Josh.
She hits call.
***
Josh sees his phone lighting up at the table. He was just stepping out of the shower, his towel draped around his shoulders.
He walks towards it and checks the name on the screen.
Marni.
Did something happen? She would not call in the dead of the night.
He answers, heart thudding in anxious confusion.
“Hey... everything okay?”
Marni’s voice comes through, soft, but tired.
“He called me.”
“Who?”
“Pau.”
Josh feels himself freeze.
“Said he’s coming home,” Marni continues.
Josh swallows hard, now sitting on the edge of his bed.
“Oh,” Josh says quietly. Almost a whisper. Like if he said it any louder, his voice might break.
“Did he call you?” she asks.
“No.”
Neither of them knows exactly what to say next.
“Maybe he isn’t ready... or it was just a reflex. Or maybe... maybe he just wanted to feel less alone on his way back,” Marni says quietly, feeling the uneasy shift from the other line.
Josh laughs, bitter but not cruel.
“ Yeah… that sounds like him.”
Marni exhales.
“Thank you for telling me, Marni,” he continues.
“It’s always been you, Josh. For him,” she says.
Josh closes his eyes, resting his head in his hand.
Here?
There?
Where?
The line clicks before he can say anything else.
Why did it have to be me?
***
Josh wants to grasp it, but he can’t. He sits outside in his apartment’s balcony, staring out at the empty streets. It’s so quiet out here, but he can barely hear his thoughts.
He dials the one person who won’t sugarcoat it. Fil picks up after two rings.
“Who are we fighting? Just say the word,” Fil says groggily.
Josh lets out a humorless laugh.
“He called Marni. Told her he’s coming home.”
Fil sighs.
“Of course he did.”
Josh tilts his head against the sky, closing his eyes.
“I don’t know what I’m doing, Fil. I feel like I’m on standby for someone who doesn’t even know if he wants me.”
Fil pauses, voice soft but firm.
“Bro… I think he knows. But maybe... You can actually stop waiting around for him to figure it out, you know? Live your life, or something. If he catches up, great. If not… well, there’s always beer… And you’re always gonna be fucking Josh. Jawline Josh.”
Josh lets that sink in for a bit.
Fil continues. “You always say he doesn’t know.. he hasn’t figured out shit.. Ever think about how you maybe got the same problem, my boy?”
Josh lets out a small laugh again.
“You can always also just... say the words, bro. Not everybody’s got 8 years,” Fil says.
And then the line cuts dead.
***
Josh continues to sit outside long after the call with the Fil. The emotions quietly simmer inside of him, and he feels like needs to do something before he boils.
He picks up his phone and types.
"Marni says you’re coming home."
Josh catches himself and feels like he’s lost all the work he’s done over the past few days since he came back. But Fil was right. What work has he actually done, really? Getting drunk in bars? Wallowing in blame? Pointing at everything else but himself?
A minute later, Pau replies:
"Yeah."
Josh stares at it. His fingers hesitate over the screen as he mulls over what he wants to say.
This much is true.
He finally types, slower this time, his heart racing.
Not everybody’s got eight years.
"Are you coming home to her… or to me?"
The soft ding jolts Josh. He stares at the Read notification on his screen. Silent. Almost ominous in its seeming finality.
No reply, and the night feels immediately colder. Blacker.
Josh stares at his phone like it might grow an answer if he waits long enough.
But it doesn’t. He finally sets his phone down, his heart sinking. The silence feels louder than any answer Pau could’ve given.
Why did it have to be me?
Suddenly, he’s frantically opening up his phone’s browser and starts checking flights coming from Taipei to Manila.
Which one of them leads him back to me?
In Taipei, Pau’s phone sits face down on the counter. He hasn’t touched it since he read Josh’s message.
"Are you coming home to her or to me?"
The words echo in his head on repeat, slicing through the quiet of his apartment.
He’s exhausted from running, tired of making the same mistakes. What he knows is that he wants to come home to try.
To run towards him.
But the fear is still there.
I always ruin you, Josh.
Isn’t that what he said?
It’s always almost true.
He’ll let the silence answer for him for now. Hoping he could find the right words to say when he finally lands. To find it in him to be tethered, if Josh is still there waiting at the finish line.
He leans against the window, looking out over the Taipei skyline one last time. He goes back inside his apartment, starts packing his bags.
Small steps.
But this time, across a fucking ocean.
Chapter 12: White Shirts
Summary:
Josh navigates life back in Manila while processing unexpected news. Pau returns with gifts for everyone and decisions to make.
An afternoon conversation over coffee leads to overdue honesty, while late-night interventions remind Josh that some people will always have his back, no matter when, sometimes — getting dressed for tomorrow feels like the hardest part.
Notes:
I'm on X if you want to engage! @luna_in_limbo :)))))
Chapter Text
🎧 FOR THE MOOD:
WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN - Kelly Clarkson
PLEASE DO NOT LEAN - Daniel Caesar, BADBADNOTGOOD
💿 FULL MIXTAPE:
It’s 11:00 AM in Manila, and Josh wakes up uncharacteristically late. It’s been three days since he got back from Taipei, but he’s still slowly finding his way back to his rhythms.
Life at home, here.
Life without him, even when his ghost appears to co-exist with him quietly.
He gets up from his bed, goes to the bathroom. Splashes cold water on his face. His jawline’s gotten more taut, sharper — like it had no choice but to yield to gravity willing it that way.
He blinks at the mirror, hair fraying up at the edges. He smoothens it with a hand, but it sticks up anyway. He stares at the reflection looking back at him a bit longer, then he walks towards the kitchen to prepare coffee. Strong and piping hot, the type that scalds the tongue.
He’s done the same things over and over ever since he got back. Hoping the familiar will send him out of his inertia.
It hasn’t.
He turns on the TV to hear another sound besides his own breathing.
Just to drown the lonely echoes that surround the emptiness of everything around.
Josh sits across the TV, staring blankly at the figures moving on the screen. He hears what they say, but nothing sinks in.
He sees a figure flashing in a black hoodie. A black cap, a black luggage bag in tow. He’ll know that quiet smile from anywhere, even if he were blind.
He stops to read the headline.
“Saja’s Pau spotted at NAIA this morning — is the hiatus over?”
Josh feels a lump in his throat, but he can’t take his eyes off the screen.
He’s here.
A part of him wants to laugh. So this is how it feels to be a fan. A bystander.
Updates shared with the rest of the world, like they didn’t share a toothbrush. Perfume bottles. A bed.
Eight years.
Pain. Love.
He turns off the TV. His coffee’s gone cold.
Snippets of a life like they were not borrowing time.
Josh hears his phone buzz. He turns it over to check and sees it’s the Saja GC blowing up.
Yves:
oh news says someone landed in NAIA looking straight off a shampoo commercial
Fil:
you done with your side quest bro? or this a new one? Lol
Pau:
shut up I’m still jetlagged
Jah:
Welcome back, Pau. We missed you so much 🥹🥹🥹
Fil:
I didn’t
Pau:
Oh yea? I got you a hoodie. Limited edition for the limited bitch that you are
Josh pauses at that one a bit longer.
He remembered that, but not me.
Fil:
I’m tough to please but doesn’t mean I won’t take that. Bring that to rehearsals!
Yves:
So when’s rehearsals Pau? Or we disbanding now? Lol
Jah:
Do you have chocolate for me
Pau:
Ofc Jah even if u never remind me. Fleece slippers for Yves too
What about me?
Fil:
What u got for Josh bro? new song? LOL
The chat pauses. Josh bites his lip, thinking of what he could possibly say. Or if he really wants to say anything.
Pau:
i’ll be back soon. at work, i mean.
Josh sends a thumbs-up emoji.
Jah:
We’ll wait for you 🥹🥹🥹
Fil:
Only if now he can finally do full choreos
Pau reads it all, but he can’t quite get past the thumbs-up emoji. One small icon enough to make his heart skip a beat.
What does he mean?
***
Another three days have passed since Pau got back to Manila. Josh has never left his apartment and won’t pick up his phone. Yra has set up a meeting to recalibrate, and Pau asks for a few more days to settle something up, he says.
Yra asks if it has something to do with Josh. He doesn’t tell Pau that Josh hasn’t been seen in public for days. That you need to call him five times before he picks up a call, but even then, he’d just listen in on the other line, not saying anything.
Pau tells Yra, “Perhaps,” and for him to allow this small moment of limbo just this once. He will never ask again, he says, and Yra lets him.
“We need you back, Pau. Whole.”
“Alright.”
Pau goes through the motions, on autopilot half of the time. The other half he spends feeling the weight in his chest, the decisions swirling in his mind that can either make or break this fugue he’s under. Everyone’s telling him to stop running, to be finally honest, like that’s some store-bought balm you can ask a courier to deliver. Like he’s not come home to finally try.
He sits at home snapping his fingers to nothing in particular. He decides to pick up his phone and texts Marni.
Pau:
I’m back. Can we… meet? Whenever you’re free?
This is where I’ll start.
An hour or two passes, and Marni replies.
Marni:
Okay. But why?
Pau:
Catch up? And there’s something I need to say.
Marni:
We’ve ended, Pau.
Pau:
Old times’ sake?
Marni:
Fine. Josh know you’re here?
Pau:
Ya. 3pm tomorrow, then? The Curator?
Marni:
See you there.
Marni squints her eye, wondering what this is about again. But he says for old times’ sake. Sure, why not? It can’t possibly be that bad.
***
The quiet afternoon is broken by a blurry fan photo posted on stan Twitter. Pau in a white shirt, cargo jeans, white sneakers. A woman beside him. Short-haired, an angular jaw. Slim and tall. A beige sundress and sandals. Soft smiles from both of them. No sunglasses. No caps to hide.
What in the afternoon date????
Pau looking like “boyfriend” in white sneakers frame this up
STOP THAT’S MARNI ISN’T IT? ARE THEY BACK TOGETHER????
Do you mean to say he went back for her because nooo my #PauJosh heart
JOSH WHO?!? #nationsgirlfriend
Moment of silence for the #TaipeiRamenEra
Josh scrolls through everything, wondering how is he still alive.
He’s made his choice, hasn’t he?
What about me?
He stares at the screen, jaws tightly clenched.
The answers to his hurts vividly displayed like a left-hook punch in a totally different sport.
Outside, the world continues turning, but he cannot breathe.
Stupid. So fucking stupid.
My eight years cannot possibly compete with that.
***
Pau sits across from Marni, a cup of coffee now sitting lukewarm on the table. Marni forks on a cheesecake slice, staring at him. He averts his gaze and fidgets with his hands.
“I don’t think you asked me here just so you can be seen with me, right?” Marni says.
Pau lets out a soft chuckle.
“White shirt.. white sneakers.. denims.. What do you want, Pau?”
“I.. I was... thinking... that maybe, if... if you wanted me back, I could try. I could... be that again. That guy. Maybe that’s what’s right?” Pau says softly, almost like a whisper. Like something he rehearsed because he thinks it’s what she expects.
Marni just tilts her head, watching him with that same calm that used to drive him mad. She stops with her fork in mid-air, squints her eye at him.
“You’re fucking crazy, aren’t you? I told you we’re done,” she scoffs.
“But do you?” he asks.
“Do I what?”
“Want me back?”
Marni lets out a soft sigh. She looks at Pau with a passing longing in her eyes, looking so small and fragile in his seat.
“Forget about what I want, Pau. What do you want?” she asks gently.
“Josh.”
The café hums softly. Pau’s heart pounds.
Marni gives him a small smile. “That’s the most honest thing you’ve said in a long while.”
Pau looks at her like he’s about to cry. He puts a hand under his chin, lets out a long exhale. Closes his eyes. He’s terrified, but he feels the weight in his chest subside.
“You’re not lost. You’re scared. You’ve got to stop hiding behind me. Behind work. Behind white shirts and white sneakers,” she continues.
Pau finds himself listening to her intently, in a way he hasn’t paused to do for anyone since he came back from Taipei.
“I’m so lucky to have you,” he says quietly.
“Had,” she says with a smile.
Marni continues to fork bites of her cheesecake, but it never leaves her plate.
“Give the right people the chance to catch up with you, you know. Stop tiring them out while you’re figuring it out.”
She continues to watch him with that calm sadness, the kind that says she always knew.
Pau stares at her like a library that’s opened up before him, with its smells that remind him of comfort and patience. Of lessons.
“You’ve always been bad at being honest with yourself, Pau. But maybe you’re getting there. And I hope, for you, and for him… that when you finally do, he’s still there. And that you deserve every minute that he’s waited. ”
Pau wipes an errant tear that slipped from his eye. He nods continuously.
She smiles faintly, gathering her things.
“Go home, Pau.”
She leaves him there, and Pau feels like it’s a benediction. A cleared path.
He stares out the glass windows and sees the setting sun. He wonders how beautiful it is that it can still offer its light like that.
Where does it lead? Where does it go?
Home.
Perhaps.
Where I fucking want to run towards.
***
Josh awakes in the dark, feeling like he’s been beaten up. His phone buzzes beside him in bed.
He sits up in bed and turns up the lamp on the stand.
He scrolls his phone, wondering what’s up.
What now? One photo not enough?
The boys made a new group chat. They called it “Uglies Only.” Josh stifles a laugh, but it comes out anyway. He checks who’s on it and notices Pau’s not there.
Oh.
UGLIES ONLY
Fil:
ok new gc guys “no pau allowed” “no pretties” 😂
Yves:
In here we protecc Josh at all costs
Jah:
are u awake Josh, don’t worry Pau doesn’t know
Fil:
What do you wanna do, my boy? Hoodies don’t excite me that much just so u kno 💀
Yves:
We can kidnap Pau. Or you both. Or we can just drink
Fil:
yes
Josh:
you guys are dumb
Jah:
Ohmygod he’s alive then 🥹🥹🥹
Yves:
fwiw jawline, that’s the only white shirt he owns
Fil:
seriously tho, we got you. let him figure out his shit.
you? we making sure you stay standing. or sitting. Or taking a bath
Josh:
thanks. really.
i feel like punching myself in the face but like, thanks.
Fil:
no need. we’ll do it for you 🤝
Jah:
We’re coming over, alright? Please make sure you’re dressed. I’ve enough trauma in my very young life
Yves:
We’re gonna feed you motherfucker and then we’ll all cry
Fil:
At how pretty Pau is omygod. Oh no not that sry bro
Josh:
Ok fine. I don’t want to but ok fine. Your faces are probably better than my empty walls
Fil:
Yuck stop crying we aren’t there yet
Josh smiles despite it all. He stands up from the bed, thinks about a shower. He settles for brushing his teeth instead.
He holds the toothbrush in his hands and cries.
It’s the one they shared in Taipei.
***
It’s around 9:00 PM when Josh hears the doorbell to his condo ring. Once, twice, then a loud knocking. He’s curled up on the couch, still in yesterday’s hoodie.
“Open up, sad boy. We know you’re in there,” Fil yells from outside.
Josh drags himself to the door and opens it just as Jah and Yves barrel inside, arms full of grocery bags and a rice cooker.
“Congratulations, you’ve just won a rice cooker! Tax-free,” Yves says, grinning.
Fil sets down a bag of frozen dumplings and points at him. “Ugh, it reeks of Issey Miyake here! Is Pau hiding on a cabinet somewhere?”
“Please shower first. You also smell like shared toothbrush and Netflix,” Jah says, cheerfully ignoring the gloom.
Josh lets out a weak laugh despite himself.
***
He steps out of the shower to the smells of garlic rice, fried spam, and pancit canton filling the small kitchen. Josh sits at the counter in clean clothes, hair still damp.
Fil looks at him judgmentally. “Is your shampoo also Issey Miyake?”
He walks closer to him and raises his arm, trying to sniff his armpit. Josh swats him away. “Your deodorant is Issey, too? Damn, that’s some commitment, bro.” Fil walks away laughing.
The boys continue to move around the kitchen, rummaging through cabinets and cupboards looking for items to set the table with.
“You and Pau are like our divorced parents. Get it together for the kids, bro? Maybe?” Yves says, stirring a pot of boiling water.
“Honestly, though, we love the dude. But he’s a dumbass. And so are you,” Fil adds. Jah sits beside Josh in front of the counter, folding up tissues.
Josh sighs, rubbing his face.
“What do you need that many folded tissues for, Jah?” Fil says with a grimace.
“I don’t know, it’s just… it will be thicker to use if he cries,” Jah says with wide eyes.
Yves slaps the side of Jah's head gently.
“I don’t know if I can keep doing this with him,” Josh says quietly.
Fil slides a bowl in front of him, sits down across.
“Then tomorrow, show up for you. Not for him. Not for us, or the staff. For yourself.”
“We’ll handle the rest,” Yves adds, half-winking.
***
With dinner finished and the dirty dishes cleared, the boys open up beers and decide to rummage through Josh’s closet. Fil jokes he won’t be surprised to see Pau jump out from one of the drawers, and Jah says he just hopes not to hold a dirty boxer.
Yves suggests they plan out Josh’s outfit for tomorrow’s HQ meeting. The first one since Pau’s return. For Saja’s comeback. The first time they will see each other again, after Taipei.
Fil pulls out a leather bomber jacket.
“Not that, he’d look like a fireman,” Yves says.
“Well, isn’t he?” Fil says as he shakes his head.
Jah pulls out a green hoodie. He says it looks comfortable and is cool to the eye.
Fil snorts. “No. He’d look like he desperately needs a hug. I mean, he does… look at him. But we don’t let anybody know that.”
They laugh at this, even Josh. He lets the boys pull out random items from his closet. Mismatched socks, forgotten gifts from fans. Shorts too short for him now. A random hoodie that once belonged to Pau. An orange one they got in Hong Kong, once, when they had an album tour there.
Yves catches him staring at the hoodie and notices the shift in his expression. He lets out a soft smile.
“Disneyland, right?” he says softly, and Josh nods quietly.
Yves carefully folds it and returns it to the closet. “Not that one, then.”
Jah sees a white shirt and lays it out on the bed like armor.
“See, he’s not the only one with a white shirt, bro,” Fil says. “This would work.”
The boys continue laying out the rest of the outfit. A jet-black blazer, finely tailored. Trousers. Boots.
“Tomorrow, you’re Josh of Saja. Not Pau’s sad ex, and you’ll look fucking good,” Yves says with a proud smile.
Jah laughs. “Though honestly... you’re probably both.”
Fil shoots him a wink. “Come here, boy, let’s see that jawline. This is the jawline that wears Chanel Bleu. This is not the jawline that drowns itself in Issey Miyake like an assault weapon.”
Jeers and teases come, and Josh offers them a faint smile.
What about me?
Josh looks at them, heart swelling painfully. Grateful for the warmth— and the beers, cold in his throat.
***
Pau sits at his apartment’s counter alone, staring at his phone. His photo with Marni from earlier has blown off, and he finds it off that the boys have not commented on it yet.
Where is he?
He checks out their GC and scrolls through, seeing mostly work-related reminders and a few dry jokes.
Has he seen?
He messages the GC.
Pau:
Missed you motherfuckers. See you all tomorrow?
A few seconds pass, and Yves replies.
Yves:
We’ll be there. Don’t know about Josh tho 🤷♂️
Pau freezes. He feels a quiet punch to the gut. Dull, but there.
Where is he?
He was the one who always answered.
He stares at the screen, thumb hovering over the keyboard. He decides to send Yves a separate message.
Pau:
Where is he?
This is where I’ll start.
Yves:
You don’t get to keep a man like Josh if you have to keep looking for him. But then again, his whole apartment reeks of Issey Miyake, so what do I know
He starts to type a reply but deletes it. His mind fills with doubts and a quiet fear he has not felt in such force for a long time.
Too little?
Too late?
Will he no longer be at the finish line?
Who do I fucking run towards?
Chapter 13: Timelines
Summary:
Two months apart and six floors up, Pau returns to a boardroom where Josh wears a crisp white shirt like armor.
The meeting for their comeback post-hiatus runs efficiently, but the aftermath doesn't.Sometimes "I want you" is the worst thing you can say, and Pau, left alone after a slammed door with the weight of his choices, realizes some clocks can be fixed—if you're willing to do the work.
Notes:
I'm on X if you want to engage! @luna_in_limbo :)))
Chapter Text
🎧 FOR THE MOOD:
💿 FULL MIXTAPE:
Pau walks through the lobby, dropping quick smiles and hellos to the staff who greet him. It’s been two months since he was last here, and though the setting looks familiar, the feeling certainly isn’t.
He spent the night shifting and turning in his bed, and woke up earlier in a what feels like a trance. He walks to the elevator and pushes a button.
Will he be there, six floors up?
The elevator dings, the doors slide open. His pulse is so loud, he almost misses the sound.
He opens the glass doors to their agency’s office, and he’s welcomed by more waves, giggles, and half-hugs. Some staff members stand at the side and look at him like he’s covered in glitter. Shining and bright, but fragile.
“Are they here already?” he asks a staff member.
“All four,” she says, widely smiling.
His ears ring. His chest thunders. He smiles at the staff member and walks towards the boardroom. He’s been told Yra won’t be in, so it would be just them. Saja.
Pau stretches his shoulders, lets out a sigh. Dread and longing fill him both at once.
He’s here.
This is where I’ll start.
Pau finds Yves, Fil, and Jah already seated inside the boardroom—laptops open, casual chatter filling the space. Jah sees him first and immediately runs to him with his arms wide open for a hug.
“Pau!” Jah says, and wraps his arms around him. Pau smiles and returns his hug, shuffling his hair.
“Have you been good while I was gone?” he asks teasingly.
“Have you?” Fil walks to him and locks Pau in a half-hug.
Pau lets out a dry chuckle. His eyes discreetly scanning the room. “Always,” he tells Fil with a wink.
Where is he?
“He’s coming. On the way here already,” Yves says, and Pau wonders if he did say that out loud. Yves walks toward him and hugs him tightly. “Welcome back, pretty.”
Pau nods and presses his lips together. Nods.
“Let’s wait for Josh, yeah? Before we start, I mean,” he says. He takes a seat at the boardroom’s long table, and the boys follow suit.
Pau wets his lips and reaches for a glass of water. It feels too cold for comfort.
The door suddenly swings open and Pau’s hand shakes, sending water droplets spilling on the table.
And there he is.
Josh.
A black blazer, a crisp white tee. Hair perfectly in place, eyes covered in graded glasses.
He gives out a sharp smile to the room and nods at Pau. Once.
All business-like and professional, like Taipei never happened. A look of control that Pau feels like is a front, if only he didn’t suddenly feel so small.
“Everyone’s here, I see. So if our leader is ready to lead again, perhaps we can start.”
Josh says it respectfully, but the emphasis cuts like a blade. He tries to get Josh’s gaze, but he never glances back at him.
Pau leans back, lets out a breath.
“Josh, you’ve done well holding this down. Maybe you can take charge for now,” he says quietly.
The rest of the boys exchange brief looks across the table.
“Didn’t do it because I wanted to. Did it because someone had to,” Josh says icily.
“Yeah, I know. Thank you,” Pau answers, his head down.
Fil fakes out an awkward cough.
“Let’s just start, okay, I feel like I’m getting sick,” he says.
“Work always makes you sick,” Yves retorts, rolling his eyes.
Jah kicks Fil’s feet under the table. Pau forces a nervous laugh, masking the sting still sitting unmoved in his chest.
The projector hums quietly as presentation slides click by. Schedules. Brand renewals. Fan meet planning. Pau watches Josh effortlessly run the meeting. Sharp, articulate, unshakably poised. A sharp contrast to his puffy eyes, or his hair that’s messier than everything he’s run from.
He made the effort to hide it under his cap, spilled perhaps half a bottle of Chanel Bleu on himself, but Josh has not even noticed.
He rests his cheek on his fist, waiting for an acknowledgement that he’s here. In one piece. Unready, but here.
Josh, I’m looking at you.
Josh, I’m here.
Josh, I’m real.
Josh’s presentation continues on. Fil shifts in his seat, uncomfortable with the tension still thick in the air.
“Gosh, all this, and I really thought we were going to disband in those two months that passed. Are we really gonna pretend that did not happen?” he says half-jokingly.
“That was never it, Fil. Some people here just felt like not showing up, except if in another country,” Josh says coolly.
The room stills, and Pau straightens in his seat.
“Thought I was allowed a break. You said take your time,” Pau answers in a dry voice.
“Well, I personally hope you enjoyed your time,” Josh responds sharply but controlled. His voice never rises, and Pau feels it to his core. Another hit.
He clenches his jaw but nods, accepting it.
It’s what I deserve.
Josh exhales, like that wasn’t the response he expected. He stares across the room straight, but in his eyes, a pang of hurt.
He can’t even defend himself.
Josh clicks to the next slide, eyes briefly meeting Pau’s before glancing away, his voice sharp but level.
“Timelines are important, yeah? Can’t just disappear halfway through and expect the rest of us to pick up where you left off,” he says coolly.
“Same goes for commitments. You either stay or go. No middle ground.”
Fil shifts in his seat, biting his tongue. Jah frowns slightly. Yves looks away, pretending to read the meeting notes.
Pau’s throat tightens, but he lets Josh continue.
Josh leans against the table. He feels a quiet rage build inside his chest.
Come on, you little shit. Defend yourself.
“Also easier if we didn’t have to clean up after people’s messes every single time they get confused about what—or who—they want,” he snaps.
Pau feels the bite in Josh’s voice but keeps his face neutral.
He’s here.
He’s looking.
It’s what I deserve.
Pau meets Josh’s gaze.
“I’m sorry,” he says quietly.
“Let’s see, then, how long you would mean that.”
Jah taps his pen against the table. Yves rubs the back of his neck. Fil tries to lighten the mood again.
“Okay, so... feelings aired, drama officially set. Maybe let’s just include that on one of our performances? Can we wrap this up before lunch? Just wanna eat, bro.”
Yves grins approvingly.
“I like chicken,” Jah says quietly.
Josh finally melts and smiles. “Okay, we can get you that chicken, alright?”
“You sure the gravy won’t mess your suit? Showing up today looking like a business class breakup playlist ready for an all-day loop?” Yves says, laughing now.
“Shut up, Yves,” Josh smirks, letting out a dry laugh.
Pau adjusts his cap, then begins to stand.
“Let’s finish this up. Then we’ll talk, you and I.”
Josh takes a long look at him, like hearing a ghost speak for the first time.
***
The boys shuffle out of the room one by one, bringing their bags and laptops.
Fil stops at the door before he leaves. “Please don’t fuck here. Don’t shit where you eat.”
Pau and Josh look at him blankly, but he’s gone before they can say a word.
Josh starts toward the door, but Pau’s hand catches his wrist before he can open it.
Josh freezes on the spot. The warmth of Pau’s hand on his skin feels like a gentleness that was once familiar, but isn’t his for the taking now.
It’s unfair how he’s still beautiful.
He ruins everything he touches.
“Josh. Don’t go yet. Please,” Pau says softly.
Josh exhales sharply and shakes his wrist off Pau’s grasp.
“What, Pau? More ‘I’m sorry’, more ‘I’m fucked up’, more ‘I’m not there yet’? What more do you want from me? Cause I get it now, I really do,” Josh says, voice tired.
Pau lets go of his wrist but stays close. His voice softer now, vulnerable in a way Josh hasn’t heard in a while.
“I just... don’t want to end it like this.”
“Oh, so it’s really an end then. Good. Finally,” Josh says, smiling bitterly.
Come on, lie again and make it as pretty as you.
Pau flinches, but he continues to stare at him quietly.
“Not like this, not when you’re so angry,” Pau says softly.
“Oh, I’m not even allowed to be angry now? Some balls you have there. But I should know, right?”
Pau takes a breath. He runs a hand through his hair, his cap nearly falling off.
“Josh... we need to talk. Really talk. When there’s time,” he whispers.
Josh looks at him for a long, heavy moment. So many words sitting on his tongue.
“There’s never time, Pau. Since when did you have the time?” he says instead, flatly.
“Josh. Please... just—don’t shut me out. Not yet.”
“That’s all you’ve got to say for yourself? You’ve chosen, right? I asked you if you were coming home to her or to me... and then I had to learn where your 'home' is from the internet. White shirt, white sneakers? Fuck!” Josh tilts his head to stop the tears from falling down his eyes. To stop himself from falling apart.
“Yeah. The internet. Like everyone else. Tell me if I deserved that,” Josh continues, voice dropped. He sighs deeply, voice about to break.
I need to keep it together.
Come on, just please lie. As pretty as you.
Pau closes his eyes, guilt flooding him.
“You didn’t. You don’t,” he swallows hard. “But you’ve got to know… I… want you.”
Josh looks at him like that’s the worst answer he could’ve given.
“That’s not enough.”
“I’m getting there, Josh, if you could just—"
Josh takes a step back toward the door.
“Fuck you and your requests. Fuck you and your conditions. Fuck me, still listening to you. Still giving a shit about you.”
Josh turns toward the door again, his shoulders tight.
Pau catches a faint whiff of Issey Miyake in the air as Josh leaves and slams the door.
I like it when you smell like me.
Pau stays behind, alone in the thick, suffocating quiet.
Drowning in Josh's Chanel Bleu he sprayed on in the morning, but all he's smelling is his generic bath soap.
***
Pau sits down in one of the chairs, the quiet almost deafening. He stares at his hands, clenching and unclenching his fists.
He’s here.
He smells like me.
Pau thinks Josh is right, that it’s not enough. His ‘I want yous’, his time. His promises.
Tomorrow. After the tour. After the comeback.
He remembers the vampire clock he got in Taipei, telling the time right at least twice a day. He took it back to Manila, thinking he could get it repaired.
Maybe I’ll start with that.
He still smells like me.
It is he who I want to fucking run towards.
He lets the weight of his own words settle in his chest, thinking about Josh waiting for him at the finish line.
Home.
He needs to hear me finally say that.
He stands up, grabs his cap, and walks out.
Chapter 14: Elephants in the Room
Summary:
Pau is back, and they laugh like nothing’s changed, but the elephant follows them from meeting rooms to lunch tables and to the stage—too heavy to name, too cruel to ignore.
Notes:
I'm on X if you want to engage: @luna_in_limbo :)))
Chapter Text
🎧 FOR THE MOOD:
LA LA LOST YOU - Niki, 88Rising
💿 FULL MIXTAPE:
The three boys sit crammed into a corner booth at one of their usual lunch spots near their office building. Josh arrives, squeezing himself next to Fil. Pau soon follows, and he sits beside Jah. The clatter of plates and the smell of grilled meat wrap around them like an old sweater. It almost feels like before—before hiatuses and missed calls, before their timelines fell apart. Laughter spilling easily, jokes flying across the table.
Yves reaches across the table to pile vegetables onto Jah’s plate; Fil steals a chicken wing without asking. Josh smiles unguardedly, for what seems to be the first time in months, and Pau, in between sips of soda, sits there just staring at him.
Josh pretends not to notice.
“Bro, I miss Taiwan food. Must’ve been amazing,” Fil says with his mouth full, turning to Pau. “What was your go-to there?”
“Oh, I wanna guess, I wanna guess. Please, let me guess,” Jah grins. “Custard cake?”
Pau chuckles, swirling his soda.
“Bro, Taipei food was heaven. As always. Especially the ones we didn’t get to try before, you know.”
“Yeah? That the only thing you... ate in Taipei? What’s this we haven’t tried before?” Fil says, grinning, his one eyebrow raised. Leans in like he’s just discovered a scandal.
The table erupts into howls and cackles.
Yves erupts in laughter and points his chopsticks at Pau. “Oh god, Fil, you’re going to hell.”
Pau laughs and sneaks in a glance at Josh, and he sees him thinning his lips.
Josh clears his throat, pushes his chair back as he gathers his things. “I’ll get going—meeting to prep for.”
He forces a smile, then stands up from the table.
Pau looks up at him and begins to say something. “Josh, wait—”
Josh just looks at him blankly and leaves anyway.
The laughter fades from the table, and it quiets enough for the sounds of Josh’s footsteps walking away to linger softly. Pau lets out a sigh, still looking at Josh’s back fading from view.
Fil sighs, wiping his mouth with a tissue. “Dude. Can’t even laugh without one of you walking out.”
Yves leans forward, voice low but sharp. “You’re really just gonna fucking sit there?”
“We all notice, you know,” Jah says quietly. He shifts uncomfortably in his seat, but even he doesn’t let Pau off the hook.
Pau stares down at his barely touched food.
He was the one who always answered.
The guilt sits heavier than the rice in his stomach. He laughs, bitter and tired.
“I know, Jah, of course I do.”
They let him sit in it for a beat, quiet around the table.
“Bro. You also know you can’t keep doing this, right? Cause it’s fucking stupid. I mean, at some point, you’ve got to start being tired from all the running, yeah?” Fil says with his arms crossed against his chest.
“He covered for you. For months. And, really, for-fucking-ever. For as long as all of us can remember. He’s always left holding this group together when you run off chasing whatever the hell it is you feel like chasing. And now, again… you come back like this? I mean, if I were him, I’d have punched you in the face when I first saw your stupid pretty face back in the boardroom there.” Yves drops his chopsticks, his tone sharper than usual. Almost annoyed, and Pau sits there just poking at his food.
“Right,” Fil adds. “And he didn’t, so he’s probably really the best of us.”
“No, that’s still me, Pau said,” Jah whispers. Fil rolls his eyes at him.
Pau sighs, rubbing his temples.
“Well, I obviously can’t follow him right now, yeah? He’d only be angrier.”
“Oh, fuck you. You call him over the phone and with just one stupid giggle, he’s off flying to Taipei, booking flights and following your sorry ass,” Fil says dryly.
“I never meant to hurt him. You know that,” Pau says defensively.
“You never mean to hurt anyone, Pau. But you also don’t get to stand in the middle of all this and pretend you don’t know what you mean to him,” Yves says with a bite.
“Yves… I do know, but… It’s not that… simple. And that’s also why I've been very careful,” Pau says quietly.
“Why not? You think because you’re charming, or broken, or tired, that people will just... wait for you to figure your shit out. But people got limits, even with someone with hair as pretty as yours,” Yves leans back, shaking his head.
“Careful, my ass. Here I am just watching both of you push and pull, and I’m the one getting tired,” Fil says exasperatedly.
“He loves you. We all do. But I think… You can’t keep loving people only when it’s convenient? At least that’s what I know? ” Jah says with his head down, stabbing at his rice bowl.
“Again… So what now? You gonna let him walk out that door and leave it like this? You cool with him thinking he’s just... some story you tell? Some dude with a nasty jawline you’ve got putty under your pinkie finger? C’mon man, you’ve even got Jah here judging you.” Fil softens, his voice gentler but still honest.
Pau lowers his head, throat tight.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers.
“We know, we hear you. But there’s another one who really needs to feel that. Just not hear it. And he’s not here. He’s chosen a fake meeting over roasted pork and you,” Yves says.
“Pau, don’t let us be the ones walking out next,” Fil says with a seriousness.
There’s a silence across the table. Fil continues biting on a piece of roasted pork, and Jah sips on his juice. Yves sits across Pau, his stare unwavering, like he’s waiting for Pau to say something fair and acceptable.
Pau lets out a shaky breath, finally lifting his head.
“I’ll fix it. I don’t know how yet. But I will,” Pau says quietly.
The sureness in his voice makes Fil finally crack a small smile.
“Do that, or I’ll do you.”
Yves grins. “Wait, that sounded wrong.”
Jah nudges Pau. “Are you gonna eat that?”
Pau pushes the bowl to him. “Go ahead and finish it, growing boy.”
“You could say the same for yourself,” Fil says.
The boys laugh again. A soft hope lingers around the table.
***
A couple of weeks pass with the boys being busy with their idol calendar. Schedules pile up like nothing happened. Studio shoots, TV sets, guestings, and interviews. New choreographies, new costumes. Every day, there’s always something to practice, something to decide on. Something to look pretty for. Something to help keep up the façade, something to keep the machine going.
Pau and Josh move around each other like professionals who have to be in the same room because they’re contract-bound. Nothing else. The rest of the boys carefully tiptoe around them, waiting for some relent. Waiting for the elephant in the room to leave, or really, just to stop blocking the door so everyone can move freely.
First, there was a brand shoot. Everyone’s got to be in matching outfits and carefully curated smiles. The photographer asks Pau and Josh to stand shoulder to shoulder, and the end of Pau’s sleeves gets caught in Josh’s. Both of them try to wriggle it off, and Pau’s hand accidentally touches Josh. Josh drops his hand instantly, feeling a slight quiver. Pau stares at him a little bit longer than necessary.
The photographer catches this moment, marveling at their quiet, undeniable chemistry. “Perfect!” he says, and he will eventually upload that photo. It will get retweeted more times than Pau has felt sorry in the past few months.
Nobody realizes it was rehearsed. Nobody realizes the laughter on their faces ends at that. That there was something sadder beneath it that they just wouldn’t show.
If only they knew.
***
A week later comes Saja’s first big TV guesting post-hiatus. They’re all clad in black suits, varying in shine. Josh tells Fil the sequins on Pau’s suit hurt Josh’s eyes, and he asks to change spots with him in front of the cameras.
“Are you hurt by the sequins or the man wearing them?” Fil asks Josh in between smiles.
“Shut up,” Josh says under his breath, smiling widely for the crew and the live audience.
Pau notices the position shift and, for a brief moment, a small frown forms on his face. It’s almost unnoticeable to anyone who doesn’t know any better. Their staff know though, and they talk about it in hushed voices.
“Oh, look at that little frown on Pau,” a girl from their PR team whispers to one of the Creatives Team staff standing beside her.
“I mean, can you blame Pau? That man booked a flight to babysit him, and then he ended up fucking it up again,” the Creatives girl shakes her head.
“Why do you know so much? Shut up. I’m Team Pau,” PR nudges her.
The boys sit down for an interview, and the host starts with a joke that sounds innocent without the context. “How are you Pau? Are you better now?”
Pau feels a quick tug at his chest, quickly checking on Josh sitting beside him now.
Am I better?
When will I be better?
He numbs himself a second later and smiles, playful as ever. As is always expected.
“Good, good. Just had to recharge a bit. Thank you, everyone… for waiting,” he says, shooting a glance at Josh. He sees him wince a little, but only he would know.
Josh chuckles beside him, all charming. “Not like we had a choice, right?”
Pau catches the slight edge in his voice and grins even wider. For the cameras.
The audience laughs. They eat it up.
Josh feels his mouth hurt from the effort. He wets his lips with his tongue.
He holds on to Yves’ knee for support, and Yves taps his hand once.
***
In rehearsals, Pau and Josh dance to the same music, but move differently. Like their internal rhythms have changed, and the beat sounds different to them. On the surface, it’s like how it has always been. Josh, counting the steps to a number, his movements sharp and precise — almost cutting. Pau, emotive and languid. Like the choreography is a new language that exists only to himself. He flows through it, loose and controlled. Like a dam, but made of high-fiber cotton.
The boys dance along with them, careful not to step on each other. Their radars always set on high alert for the next accidental spin, the next eye-roll. For that damned elephant to fucking get out of the room so some air can come in. Not everybody can thrive on air-conditioning alone, Fil tells Yves one time.
When sessions end, the boys quietly gather their bags. Yves tries to get them to hang out, like the old times, but both Pau and Josh just offer small smiles, tell him, I’m too tired, or Maybe next time. They leave immediately after—always one after the other— in separate cars, separate directions.
At one point, Fil catches Jah sobbing quietly in the corner, in the middle of preparing his matcha.
“Hey softie,” Fil walks towards him and locks him in a half-hug. “You alright?”
“They’re not okay. What else can we do?” Jah answers, rubbing his eyes.
“They’re grown men, my boy. You’ll have to be, too,” Fil says softly.
Jah immediately stops crying and straightens his shoulders.
“That’s what I’m talking about,” Fil says, rubbing Jah’s hair softly. But he isn’t sure what he’s talking about anymore, too.
***
The rest of Saja’s preparation days unfold like a travel magazine on loop. Nobody’s spoken much about Taipei, about Marni, about elephants, about Pau and Josh.
The staff whisper between themselves during breaks. One of them sees Josh just staring at the coffee machine for 15 minutes straight, saying nothing, not moving, even when his espresso shot has already finished. A girl from make-up shares that Pau kept on sniffing the lip balm they used on Josh.
“It was so awkward, I asked him if he wanted to use it, too.”
“Oh my god? And what did he say?”
“He said, ‘I’m okay’, and I was like, ‘That’s not what I asked, but okay?’ But of course I did not say that. Oh my god, his eyes. You should have seen his eyes,” the make-up assistant said.
“It’s so beautiful, like always, but it’s also so sad. And he kept that lip balm in his pocket.”
The staff let out a collective sigh.
***
Everyone’s running on fumes as their first official comeback performance looms closer.
After one particularly exhausting rehearsal, Josh stretches out on the studio couch, trying to catch a nap. Pau sits a few feet away, scrolling mindlessly through his phone, and he catches Josh out of his peripheral.
Pau gets up, bringing the blanket near him, and he walks towards the couch. He carefully puts the blanket all over Josh, and Josh looks at him, startled.
“Here, so it’s not cold,” Pau says quietly. He looks at Josh like he wants to be the blanket instead.
Josh looks like he’s waiting for him to say something else or something more.
Come on, lie again, and make it as pretty as you.
Pau starts to open his mouth, but Josh rolls over instead, hiding his head under the blanket.
Yra catches the tail-end of the scene, and Pau sees him waiting by the door.
Yra nods at him, mouthing “Everything okay here?”
“Ya,” Pau answers quietly, and he returns to slump in the same spot he was in earlier on the floor.
Josh, I’m here.
Josh, I’m real.
Josh, I’m for you.
***
The team says this would be one of the last shoots for the comeback they’ll have to do for promo. There are jeers and teases from all over the room, and Fil fakes running like a chicken preparing for flight. Everyone laughs, even Pau and Josh, despite their internal groans.
The shoot goes on like usual, except everyone now knows Pau and Josh aren’t exactly on the best of terms. Josh overhears the staff talking about an elephant or something, and he chimes in on the conversation.
“What’s this elephant everyone’s talking about?” he asks with a smile.
The staff turns a bit quiet, and one of them says, “Oh, nothing, just a very big one.”
Josh shakes his head and walks away to another part of the room. Fil catches up to him.
“The elephant is you. And pretty boy,” he says, grinning.
“Well, aren’t you gossipy today,” Josh scoffs.
The shoot ends, and the boys pack up, their voices loud with post-shoot energy. Stylists move in and out, zipping garment bags, folding up chairs and equipment.
Pau sees Josh at the corner of the room, still in make-up and dressed in their shoot outfit. His shirt is half-unbuttoned, jacket slung casually over his shoulders. Jawline as sharp as the burn forming in Pau’s chest.
He’s laughing a little too earnestly at something a young assistant says. She blushes, clearly charmed. And who wouldn’t? When Josh turns it on, he can kill all the lights.
Pau continues to watch the exchange, and he feels his jaw turning tighter. He feels like he’s boiling, but he’s unable to look away.
Fil catches him and says something about getting him a bib for drooling, but he barely registers it as he starts walking towards Josh and the assistant.
He reaches them and feels a coil snap in his gut. He strides the next few meters and stands beside Josh.
“This part of your shoot routine? Flirting with the staff now?” he hisses in a low voice, but sharp enough to cut.
Josh blinks, caught off guard but recovering fast.
“Look at you being all funny. I didn’t realize you got to decide what I do when you’re the one who can’t about anything at all.”
The assistant awkwardly excuses herself, clearly sensing the storm. The whole room quiets down, and the rest of the boys watch them from the sides, Fil ready to butt in when needed. Jah cowering behind Yves.
Josh crosses his arms, still half-smirking. “What’s your problem, Pau? Jealous?” he says, a clear tiredness in his eyes.
Pau feels a current run through him. He scoffs, frustrated and defensive.
“You’re even funnier. I don’t actually care what you do, except when it looks this unprofessional. We’re still on set.”
Josh laughs, sharp and humorless. Pau’s nostrils flare.
“Oh, please. Save me your shit about not caring. You never cared when it was your ass being fucked up and down. Get off your moral high ground and live with us here, mortals.”
Pau’s throat tightens, guilt flashing through his eyes.
Josh steps closer. “Maybe it hurts you how I can finally fucking start living without you,” he says in a low voice.
Pau feels like he’s been slashed by a fat knife in places he’s long thought he has already boarded up.
He stands his ground, ready to put up a fight.
Yra senses the tension building up, and he quietly ushers everyone else out of the door, the boys included. The two had been up against each other like they were existing in their own world. It feels amiss to have an audience to witness that.
“Good for you if that’s true. Because me? I can’t!” Pau yells, his voice almost breaking.
Josh lets out a bitter breath, stepping back.
“What a beautiful fucking lie you are. Shut up your pretty mouth because I just might believe you again. We can’t have you enjoying that much.”
“You say all that, and you still fucking smell like me. Some big talk you have.”
Josh closes the distance between them, hands balled into a fist, and for a moment, it feels like he aims to land some punches to shut Pau up. He shoots him a glare and walks away instead, leaving Pau standing there. Pau feels his heart pounding, sees his fists clenched too. He walks over to a wall and punches it.
He feels the sting in his fists and glares at the hole it made in the wall.
Pau sits with his anger and agony, praying that this is something he still can fix.
He reaches for the Chanel Blue bottle inside his bag and sprays it on himself until it stops spritzing.
Fuck you. I’m for you.
He throws the bottle to the wall, its crashing heard loudly by everyone behind it.
Yra tells everyone to leave for the day.
***
The night after, they are on stage, on cue, and looking perfect for Saja’s first comeback performance. The lights are blinding, the air is warm. The crowd roars, but it pales in comparison to the loud drumming in Pau’s chest.
The beat starts, and Pau steps forward like a man on fire.
“Dam! Anong pakiramdam?”
(Damn! How does it feel?)
He hits the stage like a bomb left to set off. His every move hits harder than rehearsed. Every lyric spills out like a personal scripture he’s holding on to as a lifeline.
The boys watch him in quiet admiration.
Josh stares at him like an angel resurrected he has no faith in, but can’t help looking at.
He can wreck you anytime.
This beautiful fucking lie.
The cameras love him. The fans scream his name.
Paulo! Paulo!
He performs like this is his last show. Every stomp of his feet landing heavier, like a march to a war he’s not sure he’s getting back from.
The first set finishes, and he’s drenched in sweat, teeth gritting, quietly seething underneath their show costumes.
Fil catches his hand mid-air for a high five, and he returns it almost too strongly.
“Easy,” Fil says quietly in between waves to the crowd.
#PauWithAVengeance trends within minutes, and the fancams blow up.
Their team starts reading fan tweets to rile them up, but Pau just feels hollow. The staff read some more, feeling it hadn’t landed with him. How loved he is. How adored. How admired. Like Taipei never happened. Like he never ruins everything he touches.
Pau just nods, pretending he’s heard, but he doesn’t care.
It is he who I fucking want to run towards.
Their second set starts, where they sing all the ballads.
“Kung wala nang pag-asa, turuan mo naman akong limutin ka.”
(If there is no longer hope here, at least teach me to forget you.)
He glances sideways during Josh’s part, and he sees him killing his part with ease. Like the lyrics don’t mean anything to him.
Josh shoots him a quick glance, then returns his eyes to the crowd. Like they never had eight years.
Fuck me, still giving a shit about you.
Pau’s chest tightens. He pushes through the final chorus like his life depends on it. When it ends, there are tears in his eyes, but nobody sees.
The crowd erupts again in applause. The sound in the arena bounces off like thunder with nowhere to go.
I’m for you, Josh.
I don’t want a finish line without you.
***
Yves catches up with Pau before they enter their dressing room. “For a while there, I was afraid you were going to run off again.”
Pau looks at him and lets out a small chuckle.
Yves locks him into a hug. Pau feels like letting out all the heavy stuff sitting in his chest.
“You did good. You’re doing good. Don’t cry, you’ll ruin your makeup,” Yves says consolingly, and he nudges him toward the dressing room.
Inside the dressing room, the staff begins to swarm them, everyone offering their congratulations.
Yra pulls the boys into a group hug and tells them the news is good. The internet is ablaze with praise. He tells them they’ll have a few days’ rest after their after-party is done, but preferably not another three months, and definitely not with one of them in another country.
Pau winces a bit, and Josh smirks quietly. The other boys laugh awkwardly, easing into the group hug a little more steadfastly.
A champagne bottle gets popped and passed on to Fil, who spills its contents to everyone. There’s laughter all around, glasses clinking, and Pau feels almost happy.
He sees Josh in the corner, sipping his champagne quietly. He looks tired, but he catches his glance.
He offers a sad smile to Josh, and Josh raises his glass to him for a quiet toast.
He wants to run towards him, to hug him tightly. To tell him it was always him. That it will always be him.
He starts towards him, but a crowd of people blocks him from his sight. When the crowd clears, Josh is no longer there.
It feels like his finish line has moved without him being prepared for it, and Pau feels the heavy, heavy weight of what he now knows he can’t really lose.
Chapter 15: The Devil Himself
Summary:
On the dancefloor, Pau's body becomes a dangerous weapon of seduction aimed at an audience of one— Josh.
But in this war, winning feels a lot like losing, leaving one of them to a desperate chase in the city night — helmet in hand, heart on sleeves like a forgotten arm.
Notes:
Tiny word of caution to buckle up a bit here, bestie huehue
This will be Pau at his most irresistible (until the next chapter idk) i dont make the rules LOLI'm on X if you want to engage: @luna_in_limbo :)))
Chapter Text
🎧 FOR THE MOOD:
I DON'T TRUST MYSELF WITH LOVING YOU - John Mayer
💿 FULL MIXTAPE:
The champagne dries up, and the staff has left. The boys remain in their dressing room, fixing their stuff. Jah sits on the floor, picking on leftover cake, and Yves folds both their clothes up. Pau sits on one of the couches, hand on his chin, wanting to ask whether anyone has seen Josh. Fil pulls up his phone to check his socials. Their phones have been blowing up all night.
“#PauWithAVengeance, now trending worldwide. Look at this one bro, you look straight from Naruto here,” Fil says laughing.
Yves scoots over to where Fil is and joins him in reading the tweets. “’He devoured, he conquered, he ended my bloodline,’” he cackles.
“Yo, these fans are wild,” Fil grins.
Pau smiles, puts a towel over his head.
“Pau’s hip thrusts = national treasure,” the boys wheeze as Fil reads another.
Yves lands on something. “‘How to be Josh.’ That’s the tweet. No context. Just suffering.”
There was a brief silence that hung in the room. Pau breaks it and asks, “Where is he?”
“He told me he would be going ahead because he wants to rest,” Jah says quietly. “He also said not to worry.”
“Of course, you're the one he tells,” Yves says, smiling.
Pau shifts his glances between Jah and Yves. A sad smile forming on his face.
“Oh,” he says, and gets up from the couch. He starts to finish packing up the rest of his things.
“Ooohh, look at this one, this is fire,” Fil says, cackling, slapping the couch. “Was Marni ever real bec tonight everytime Pau breathed in Josh’s direction my skin cleared up.”
“Come on, bro. Maybe just stop reading that,” Pau says with a quiet smile.
Fil looks at him quizzingly, like he wants to read more, but Yves steps in.
“Alright, Pau. Was gonna ask if you wanna head out with us to a bar, but maybe not tonight?”
Pau gives a small nod. “Sorry, guys. Next time.”
“You’re no fun, bro. Fine, go. Punch another wall or something,” Fil says, rolling his eyes.
Pau leaves the boys still huddled over their phones.
Not everybody’s got eight years. But maybe tomorrow will bring another year.
***
Days and nights weave into an alternating cocktail of more brand partnership meetings, contents to shoot, emails to answer, dry cleaning to pick up. Their afterparty is scheduled for tonight, and Josh has asked Yra about the possibility of his not attending. Yra says it’s bad for optics, and for him to try to have a good time. Look like expensive heartbreak in a designer suit and legs, he adds, and that Yra will see what he can do about giving Josh even a 2-day break.
Josh can’t see how it could be done, but he agrees anyway. He steps out of the shower and looks at the outfit picked for him by their stylist. Items from his own closet he wouldn’t have thought of wearing.
Do they think the shine can mask the empty? Good fucking luck with that.
He puts it on anyway. He reaches for a perfume bottle, something to complete the illusion. He sees the bottle of Issey on his dresser, sitting beside his Chanel of the past ten years. For a moment, he debates which to wear, and he almost doesn’t spray anything.
He lifts the bottle of Issey and takes a long sniff.
What a beautiful fucking lie. Perfect.
He sprays it on. Behind his ears, his neck, on his wrists.
Your problem is that you overthink the illusion. He winks at his reflection in the mirror.
He picks up his car keys and leaves.
***
Pau steps out into the club looking like sin and prayers combined. A leather jacket, a transparent shirt inside. Black trousers that hug his tiny waist, and a motorcycle helmet in one hand that gets quickly whisked away in the dark. His hair falls loosely on his shoulders, his smile with a sparkle that shines when the light hits it right.
The crowd parts for him, and for a moment, the club hushes. Pau waves to industry friends, people who have been part of their comeback. All the girls gush on the sides. Pretty boy looking painfully irresistible for everyone tonight.
“He’s not with Marni anymore, isn’t he? Because he can take me anytime. I mean… Look at him, girl, that’s the chest you worship,” one of them says and winks at Pau’s way, but he just raises an eyebrow at her.
“Good luck with that because your competition’s just about as pretty as he,” her friend leans in to her and continues. “Josh.”
The girl lets out an audible gasp, scandalized. “Is that true? I can’t decide now who I’m more jealous of, Pau, or Josh.”
“Right? They’re so fucking hot together, it almost feels criminal.” The girls giggle and make their way to the bar.
Pau finds the boys’ table, and his eyes quickly begin to scan for Josh. Fil catches his eyes drifting to the crowd.
“He went on a bathroom break. Please don’t follow him. I don’t trust either of you. Plus, the bathroom floor’s too filthy… for kneeling,” Fil says half-teasingly, a glass of martini in his hands.
“I’ll grab a drink from the bar first, then,” Pau jabs Fil’s side playfully and turns in the direction of the bar.
“Motherfucker showed up looking like the devil himself, didn’t he. I hope Josh stands a chance,” Yves says, chuckling as Pau walks his way through the crowd.
The club is packed and buzzing. Every table Pau passes offers him a drink or asks him for a quick selfie. Pau takes some of the shots, some of the selfies. He feels loaded and tired, and he has not even hit the bar yet.
He sees his jawline first. Josh, alone in the bar, waiting for his drink. Pau stares at him from across the room, afraid that he might lose him again if he blinks. A girl suddenly stands between him and his vision, and he politely shakes her hand and turns her away.
Pau begins to move like he’s in a dream. Closer to where his actual dream is. Clad in a shiny black suit, his hair styled to perfection. Lips looking softer than ever, like it never opened up to reveal anything nasty.
He feels the music turn lower, and the faces blur. For a moment, he feels like he’s passing out, and then he realizes he’s already standing beside him.
“Hi,” he says quietly.
Josh looks at him from head to toe, slow and unhurried, and Pau feels the heat crawl up his neck. Like, suddenly he’s naked with no immediate respite available.
“Hi,” Josh says with a smile, his lips twitching just a tiny little bit.
“You’re early,” Pau remarks, and signals to the bartender.
“You’re late,” Josh says, taking a sip of his whisky on the rocks.
“Gin and Tonic, please,” Pau tells the bartender.
Josh turns a bit and half-looks at him. “Gin and Tonic, yeah? Since when?”
“I’m trying not to punch any walls tonight,” Pau answers with a smirk, his fingers tapping the bar.
Josh turns to him fully, still holding his whiskey glass. His pinkie finger landing on the middle of his lips.
“Your nipples are showing.”
He slowly darts a look from Pau’s chest to his face, and he sees his cheeks flush.
Pau straightens his back, a bit frazzled, but he doesn’t pull his jacket tighter.
I’m for you.
“Look at you blush,” Josh says from beneath his drink. He winks at him once and sets his glass on the counter, and then leaves Pau to join the crowd dancing in the dark.
Pau signals to the bartender, his breathing heavy.
“Fuck that G&T. Double whiskey and make it neat. For the rest of the night. Don’t stop refilling me even if someone asks.”
Pau’s got a bottle of whiskey in, and he walks towards the boys’ table. His eyes are almost half-closed. Fil steadies him with a hand, but he swats it away.
“You’re ruining my look,” Pau says, swaying. “Come on, let’s dance.”
Yves gives Jah a look that says Stay there, and Jah immediately understands. He watches as the three of them move to the dance floor, and before long, a girl working for a magazine comes to sit beside him.
“Hi, Jah. Why are you alone here?” the girl asks sweetly.
Jah offers her a nervous smile and starts picking on his fries. The girl asks if he wants to dance. Jah tries to find the boys dancing on the floor, but the lights make it impossible. The girl is already tugging on her sleeve, and her impatience excites him.
He takes a shot of the tequila Fil has left on the table. His knees wobble a bit, and he feels a kiss on his cheek. His eyes widen, and he lets the girl lead him to the dance floor.
Fuck it. Isn’t it what they say?
Pau moves languidly on the dance floor. Fil and Yves carefully dance around him so he doesn’t grind on anyone he can’t be seen with. In hushed voices, they ask the people around to perhaps not take photos of Pau, or maybe delete the ones they’ve taken. Fil gives a quick smack to a girl from their record label in exchange for deleting a video she took. Pau with half his tongue out, hands above his head, hips swaying side to side. It will kill Yra in seconds.
At one point, the DJ plays one of Pau’s favorite John Mayer tracks — I Don’t Trust Myself With Loving You — and he manages to move away from the loose circle Fil and Yves created. The liquid tempo of the song’s intro does something to Pau’s brain, and a moment later, he’s throwing off his jacket to the crowd. The cheers grow louder, and Josh turns to check what the commotion is about.
No, I'm not the man I used to be lately
See you met me at an interesting time
He sees Pau swaying his hips alone under the hot lights, head thrown to the wind. His long hair all loose and swinging to the slinky R&B pulsating off the speakers, one hand caressing his chest in slow motion, going lower and lower, until it stops just as the fly of his pants. His sparkly, transparent shirt almost unholy in the way that it’s suddenly so visible to everyone, his body thrusting underneath it looking so ripe and ready for picking.
And if my past is any sign of your future
You should be warned before I let you inside
Josh feels the hairs on his neck stand up. A few seconds later, a sudden tightening in his pants.
Something about the way Pau moves makes him want to pin him to a wall, listen to his lies.
Beautiful in every color.
He can wreck you anytime.
He lets out a sharp exhale and moves towards him. Slowly, like the past eight years are just a memory now.
Like a fucking magnet.
A moth to a fire.
Pau opens his eyes to see Josh standing in front of him, lips slightly parted. He blinks once, head swaying in little motions, and he loops his hands around his neck.
“Are you here to see me now?” Pau coyly asks in between quick flutters of his eyes, and the only thing that Josh can think about is not the moths, but butterflies.
“I think you’ve made your point now. Enough,” Josh says, trying to steady him. He catches a whiff of perfume on him, ELDO— Jasmine et Cigarette—the perfume he once saw on his bathroom sink when he was spiraling in Taiwan. Josh gently leads him to a darker part of the dance floor, the two of them almost stumbling, but neither of them lets go.
“No.” Pau anchors himself steadily on Josh, his lips now on the side of his neck. Josh wants to push him away, worried about the stares. But his lips feel so soft on his neck, smooth and sinful like honey, and the devil knows he can reel him in like that.
Hold on to whatever you find, baby
Hold on to whatever will get you through
“Your perfume tells me you mean to fuck around,” Josh says in between his teeth, trying to fight the hardness hurting in between his pants.
Pau lets an arm fall to the side, and before Josh realizes, his hand has found its way to his crotch. Pau grips it once and hard. His hand feels warm against his trousers, and for a beat, Josh thinks he’s seeing angels. When Pau takes his hand away, Josh almost takes it back.
Hold on to whatever you find, baby
I don't trust myself with loving you
“You mean this fucking around?” Pau whispers against his neck, breath warm.
“Look at you. So hard for me.” He wraps his lips around Josh’s earlobe, tasting his sweat on his tongue. A soft moan fights its way out of his mouth.
He can wreck you anytime.
Pau lifts his hand and latches it to his waist. Josh feels himself being pulled closer, and then he feels his chest. Hard, sturdy. Soft, familiar. His protruding nipples like thunder slashing Josh in electric ripples.
“Are you still going to pretend my nipples don’t do anything to you?”
Josh feels a hand cupping his ass. There’s a dizzying drumming in his chest. The air around him feels infinitely thicker now.
His grip on Pau’s waist tightens before he can stop himself.
I will beg my way into your garden
And then I'll break my way out, when it rains
Just to get back to the place where I started
So I can want you back all over again
“You mean nothing to me,” he hisses. Like if he says it harder, it might become true.
“What a beautiful fucking lie you are, smelling of my perfume,” Pau answers with a sly smile, grinding his hips against him slowly.
“Stop it, you lying fuck,” Josh hisses, but he matches his grind. He parts his lips, trying to catch Pau’s in the dark.
“I’m for you, Josh. I’m for you.”
Josh stiffens. He feels a burn within him getting hotter, a quiet rage coming in slowly.
He grabs Pau’s wrist, not harshly, but enough to make him stop.
“You come here spitting your lies, knowing you can burn me, and then you watch me burn just the same. You’re a fucking asshole, that’s what you are. You’re enjoying this, aren’t you? Well, fuck you. I’m done.”
Pau’s smile falters, the alcohol swirling in his head like a tidal wave. Josh steps back, shaking his head. He shoots Pau a sad look, and Pau feels himself crumple.
You ruin everything you touch.
Josh storms out without saying another word.
Pau steadies himself in the middle of the crowd, feeling like a stranger under the hot, blinding lights.
Yves and Fil run to him, asking him what’s wrong.
“I need my helmet,” he says, with an urgency so strong. A clarity they haven’t heard from him in a while.
They meant to ask him why, but he’s gone before the words could form.
Who do you love, me or the thought of me?
Me or the thought of me?
***
Pau runs outside, trying to catch Josh. He misses him by split seconds as he sees Josh’s car pulling out of the lot, its taillights disappearing into the night.
The cold air douses him hard, and for a moment, he stands there, drunk, alone, and reeling.
He steadies himself on his motorcycle for a few minutes, and then he’s fishing for his keys from his pockets. He puts on his helmet and hops on it, like a man on a mission.
He is my finish line.
He straightens his back, his shoulders, and then speeds off. The humming of his bike infinitely louder than all of his thoughts.
***
Josh grips the wheel so hard his knuckles turn white. He’s speeding past empty streets, breath coming in like shards. Sharp and broken between clenched teeth.
Goddamn it, Josh.
Why’d you let him get that close?
He slams the steering wheel lightly in frustration, a mixture of disbelief and anger looping in his chest. He catches his reflection in the rearview mirror, sees a lone tear has formed. He wipes it off abruptly.
Your fucking dick betraying you, like you don’t know how hard he can wreck you every single time.
How can you get hard for that?
Putty to him every single time. Like you never learned anything in the past 10 years.
How can you still want that?
Josh stops at a light, its red light glowing against his windshield. Like a hazard reminder in the cold. He thinks about Pau’s hands against his. Looped on his neck. On his neck. On his ass. A montage of the past 10 years plays in his brain like a tragic movie.
Pau’s face in the dark, stirring beside him under the covers. His hair plastered on his face, all salvation. All perfect. His soft lips pressed on his neck. The twinkle in his eyes only he can see.
Why’d you stop him?
You wanted it too.
He rakes a hand through his hair, a bitter smile forming on his lips, but the tears in his eyes keep falling freely.
A beautiful fucking liar.
I’m for you?
You believed it, didn’t you.
You wanted it too.
Pick a side, why don’t you?
The light turns green. He blinks through his tears and drives on, foot on the pedal. Heart on his sleeve.
***
Josh turns a corner, almost too sharply. He arrives in front of his apartment complex, backs up into his parking slot. He kills the engine, takes a quick look at himself in the mirror. Eyes red, cheeks puffy.
He sets his head against the backrest of his seat for a bit, trying to calm himself into movement. The only thing he wishes for is a reprieve. Under the shower, under the covers, under his skin.
He turns off the car lights and steps out of the car. He catches a slight movement some steps away.
Pau, in all black everything. Standing against his bike, his helmet in hand. Hair matted, in a leather jacket, his sparkly sin of a transparent shirt glowing under the moonlight like a lighthouse.
The devil himself, looking like a dream and a nightmare all at once. An apparition you drop to your knees for. A ghost you sleep next to with the warmest embraces you can give.
Josh feels his stomach drop at the sight.
“What the fuck are you doing here?”
Pau looks at him with a soft smile. It feels like an apology, and Josh, with lips trembling, closes his eyes.
He can wreck you anytime.
Chapter 16: Ifs and Whys
Summary:
Pau chases Josh on a motorcycle, helmet in one hand, his heart in another. It's a quiet hurricane of raw accusations and painful confessions inside an apartment where memory becomes both weapon and a balm.
One has finally arrived at the finish line, but the other has spent years being broken by the race.
What happens when the running finally stops?
Notes:
HAPPY #SEJOSH DAY, MGA PATO!!!! KWAK KWAK KWAK
[my god if this does not fucking hurt ohmygod SORRY IN ADVANCE]
I'm on X if you want to engage: @luna_in_limbo :))))
Chapter Text
🎧 FOR THE MOOD:
💿 FULL MIXTAPE:
Yves and Fil sit at the parking curb, both tired and drunk. They ran after Pau, worried about where he might go with his helmet, almost half-naked and almost dead-drunk. The parking lot guard tells them Pau got on his bike following the one in the car with the nasty jawline, and Fil breathes a sigh of relief, muttering that at least both of them left alive and that they surprisingly did not kill each other.
Yves lets out a small chuckle, his lids almost closing at the absurdity of it all. He checks on his phone and finds his socials blowing up, and a dozen missed calls from Yra. He opens up one notification and sees a blurry photo of Pau and Josh, Pau’s hand suspiciously near Josh’s crotch.
He zooms the photo once, twice, and then shoves his phone to Fil’s face, who looks at him with a face all crumpled and annoyed.
“What now?”
“Did this really happen? Did he really grab his dick in the middle of the dance floor?” Yves half-screams, pulling the collar of his shirt to his mouth.
Fil finally looks at the photo and laughs out loud. “My boy, my boy. Showing everyone how it’s done. God, I’m so fucking proud.”
Yves sees another notification coming in, a text from Yra.
Yra:
Where’s Jah?
Fil reads the text and immediately straightens up. “Fuck Yves, just let me lie in a bed when you see one.”
“Stand up and do something good for once,” Yves says as he stands up, pulling Fil up by his collar.
Fil almost trips on a rock, but they both walk back towards the club.
***
Pau sets the helmet on his bike seat quietly, wets his lips before he speaks.
“I was told the finish line is here.”
Josh folds his arms across his chest and looks at him with a tired disbelief.
“What do you want?” he scoffs.
“I wanna talk, Josh.”
“About?”
“Well, for starters, you did call me an asshole.”
“You are.”
Pau lowers his head, a soft smile forming on his lips.
Josh looks at him like he wants to cross that small space in between them, like how he crossed that space from the door to his bed in Taipei.
He lets out a sharp sigh instead, runs a hand down his face.
Pau begins to step closer, tentatively, and Josh starts to walk away.
“Josh... let me come up? Please?”
Josh looks away, his mind screaming No, not again. But there’s something in the way he said Please that thawed Josh’s ice a bit. To his ears, he sounded stripped, like the boy he fell in love with when he was 21, and this boy was 19.
He fishes his apartment keys from his pocket and doesn’t look at him. When he does, he sees the eyes he can never say no to—all the fucking time.
“Fine.”
Pau runs a hand through his hair and follows him through the light.
***
Josh opens up his apartment door with Pau following close behind. He flicks on a switch, and the area is bathed in a dim glow. Josh leaves the door open behind him, and Pau tentatively steps in.
The place is immaculate, well-curated to taste. In the corner, a shelf with all the awards they have received throughout their career, some group pictures of their milestones. The windows were draped with floor-to-ceiling curtains in a muted beige, and on the floor, a fluffy rug the color of chocolate.
Josh finds himself looking at Pau’s every move, like he’s the lamp this place is missing. Pau moves to a quiet corner where the end table is and picks up something.
“Oh. You found this?” Pau says, half-smiling as he holds it to the light so Josh can see.
It’s his guitar pick with Taichung printed on it in neon.
Josh smiles thinly, feeling a bit exposed.
“I liked it,” he says as he walks towards the fridge.
“You keep things you like. Good call,” Pau says with a soft smile.
Josh sets a couple of beers on the counter. “Here. Just grab one if you feel like it.”
He starts to walk towards the bathroom.
“I’m not trying to get laid, Josh,” Pau says quietly.
Josh stops in his tracks and looks at him. “I’m taking a shower, not leading you on. You’re the one who does that.”
He walks over to the bedroom, and when he gets out, he throws Pau a towel.
“Here. Get off that eyesore of a top you have on.”
Pau looks at him like he wants to say something funny, but Josh stops him before he can start.
“Don’t follow me. You can shower after I’m done.”
Pau chuckles a bit. “You didn’t seem to hate this top earlier.”
“Oh, I did. Your perfume too. Putting on a fucking show like that’s supposed to do something. Grabbing my dick in public like a child. Your brain fried or something?”
“Sorry, Josh. You were so hard… and I was… I don’t know. I’m sorry.” Pau says softly with his eyes on the floor.
Josh rolls his eyes at him and walks toward the shower. Pau hears the shower turning on.
He walks toward the counter and grabs a bottle. He sits down in one of the barstools, tapping his hands on the cold marble.
He downs a gulp of the beer, cold and welcoming in his throat. He sets down the bottle and wriggles his top off, setting it aside.
Eyesore? It was itchy, but it sparkled right.
***
Josh lets the water run through him, cold and in torrents. The last time Pau set foot in his apartment was two years ago, and that was when he said he was choosing Marni.
Now he’s here again, saying he wants to talk, but Josh is wondering if tonight there’s going to be another choosing. He tells himself this would be the last time he would listen to him with his heart in the equation, but stops when he realizes he’s spent the last ten years doing otherwise.
Oh god, I just love him so much.
That it’s true doesn’t mean it didn’t hit him like a truck.
He scrubs himself twice, thrice, and when he’s done, he’s almost red in places. He steps out of the shower and opens his closet for something to change into, and for Pau, too. The closet door opens, and the orange Disneyland hoodie falls to the floor.
Josh looks at it longingly and sighs.
He’s here.
He puts it on and turns off the bedroom lights.
You really keep the things you like.
***
Pau is beginning his fourth beer bottle when Josh steps out of the room, as orange as the sun.
He looks at Josh and the memories come flashing back to him in spurts, and then in torrents. Josh getting him Mickey Mouse ears at the Disney shop in Hong Kong to keep his bangs out of his face. Josh telling him he can always tell he’s happy when he grows his hair longer. Him, picking out that orange hoodie because Josh hates it so much. Them, falling asleep in each other’s arms, spinning round and round in that ridiculous teapot ride for kids.
Pau looks at Josh and smiles. Josh smiles too.
“Your nipples are showing again,” he says with a soft chuckle. “Go on, shower’s yours. I left some clothes you can change into on the bed.”
“Josh, I wanna talk.”
“It can wait until you’ve showered.”
“I can’t.”
“I can. I have. For the last 2 years.”
Pau gives him a shy smile and gets off the counters. He takes one long look at Josh, like he’s afraid he’ll blink and then he’ll be gone again.
“Go. I will be here.”
***
When Pau comes out of the bedroom, Josh is nursing his third beer. Pau tentatively tiptoes to the counter, wearing a pair of Josh’s sweatpants and an old band shirt, its collar widened by many washes.
Josh smells his own mint shampoo in the air before he sees Pau standing a few meters away from where he is, clutching at the ends of his shirt, like he’s waiting to be allowed to sit near him.
Josh slides another beer bottle towards him. Pau inches closer and sits on one of the barstools, resting his beer bottle on one knee. His every move slow, soft. No make-up, no shine. Just him. Beautiful in every color. Beautiful in the dark and the light.
Josh sighs. “So... talk.”
Pau raises his beer bottle to his mouth and almost downs it in one gulp.
“Your courage not enough?” Josh asks.
Pau pauses and wets his lip, his swallows sounding loud in the quiet of the room.
“Maybe I’m just making sure you don’t throw me out before I say what I need to say.”
“You’re already in my clothes.”
Pau takes another slow sip of his beer, eyes dropping to the bottle in his hands.
“It’s always been you, Josh. No one else has come close.”
He says it like it’s been etched in his hands. A quiet truth sinking to the surface when the same hands were finally soaped and washed. The words hit the room like a dropped glass, and Josh freezes, feeling the wind get knocked out of him.
He shifts uneasily in his seat and turns to stare at Pau, his heart racing. He heard what he said, but his words replayed over and over in his mind. The way he said it so casually, like there’s a catch, there’s a joke coming in any minute, and he wants to brace himself for it.
Josh lets the silence stretch, the confession still burning in his chest. He sets his beer down slowly, the clink once again, loud in the silence.
“Then tell me everything. All of it.” His voice is sharp, but it’s shaking.
Pau nods in his direction gently, like an invitation. A lifeline.
“Where do you wanna start?”
“Why did you leave me for her?”
“You wanna start with that?”
“I ask, you answer.”
Pau runs a hand through his hair and looks at him like he’s hesitating. He takes another swig of his beer.
“Go on, I can take it. You want to talk? I want to listen.”
“I hope you’ll understand, too,” Pau says softly, his gaze straight ahead.
“Well? You need twelve bottles of that before you can answer?”
Pau sighs. “Because... you made me feel too much and too little. You loved me too much, and I... felt so little in it. I was afraid you’d realize how pale I was in comparison… to everything you are… everything you did, for me… and she, she was… none of that. She was just… there.”
“Did you love her?” Josh asks, his head down.
“Not like you.”
Josh feels the tears stream down his face, one by one, then all at once. It blurs his vision, but he doesn’t wipe it. He lets out a sharp breath.
“I would’ve forgiven you, you know. You didn’t even need to ask. I just always did… and I always, always do.”
“I don’t want that, Josh. I never wanted that. You keep on forgiving me even when I know I don’t deserve it. And I keep on hurting you. You’re it for me, you know? When I hurt you… I hurt myself, too. Much more than you probably know.”
Pau closes his eyes, puts a hand to his mouth.
“Did you tell her that? That it was always me?”
Josh feels his chest heave, almost wishing for him to just lie again.
“The photo that you saw… when I met with her… I asked her if she wanted me back. I told her I could be that guy again… white shirt, white sneakers…”
Josh feels himself start breaking apart even more. He wants to tell him to stop talking, to just leave, but Pau continues.
“She saw through my shit… asked me what I wanted. And then I said… you, Josh. I told her, ‘Josh.’”
Josh covers his mouth with a trembling hand. When he turns to look at Pau, he sees he’s crying too.
“So, no... Josh, you didn’t learn where my home is from the internet."
Josh smiles thinly. Pau lets out a bitter laugh, wiping his tears.
“Taiwan was… because… I no longer wanted to be me. Hurting everyone.. running from all of my shit. Perfect on the outside, rotten on the inside. Always scared of everything… of nothing… but most of all… of you… no longer being with me. I can lie to everyone, Josh. Even myself... But I can't... lie to you."
Pau opens up two beers and slides one to Josh. Josh takes it, almost finishing it in one go.
“All the people, all the nights… I was… punishing myself. Trying to feel anything close to how you made me feel… and I feel them on me… inside me… but no one… was you, Josh. I woke up on random floors… fucked and got fucked… and after everything, all that I know is that… I loved you… since I was nineteen. Oh god, Josh… so fucking much. So fucking much.”
Josh wipes at his face, but the tears just keep falling. His voice trembles, but he powers through, because if Pau’s finally listening, he’s going to hear it all.
“I want to believe you, Pau… but you don’t know what it was like. You… always hurt me so much.”
Pau’s face falls, guilt showing through in all its nooks and crannies.
“I smelled her on you every day… and you just kept on lying to my face. And then.. you just… left. Like we weren’t real. Like I made all those years up in my head.”
He laughs bitterly, shaking his head.
“I hated you.. I hated you for a long time. I had to watch you be fine… I had to be happy that you are, even when... it ate me up inside. Had to convince myself that I didn’t mean anything to you… because if I did… then why? And if I didn’t… then why, too?”
Pau’s throat works around a lump. He tries to speak, but Josh holds a hand up.
“No, let me finish.”
Josh exhales shakily, puts his head into his hands.
“You broke me, over and over. Every time you ran, every time you lied… to me.. to everyone… to yourself. Every time you thought love was just something… You could run away from, whenever it got… too big for you. Most especially when… it was my love you were saying ‘No’ to.”
Tears spill from Pau’s eyes again, silent and slow.
Josh lets out a sudden, choked laugh, wiping his face with the sleeve of his hoodie, shaking his head like he’s finally losing it.
“I followed you to Taiwan. Who the fuck does that? Oh my God, Paulo.” Josh says in between tears and bitter smiles. He throws his hands in the air and stands.
“You run, I run. No plan, no nothing. Just that stupid pain in my chest telling me what if he were lying in a ditch somewhere? What if he were dead? What would I do? So I went, Pau. Even if you didn’t tell me to come find you. Goddamn if that wasn't the stupidest thing. You don't think I'm tired of this fucking... toxic cycle? But... that’s how far I’ve gone for you. That’s how much… I…”
Josh trails for a bit, and then he’s slumped on the floor. Pau looks at him longingly, hoping that the next words out of his mouth are what he believes is true.
“That’s how much I love you.”
Pau lowers his head, feeling the weight of it all crash down on him. A part of him thinks he still does not deserve it, still terrified and overwhelmed by the realness of it all. But he also feels another part of him clawing its way out from his chest. That one that tells him the sun shines the brightest on the finish line, and that he can have it all if he stands on the podium.
He stands up from the barstool and sits across from Josh, still slumped on the floor. His hand tentatively reaches for Josh’s leg, and Josh meets his gaze.
“You’re right. I was an ass. I was a coward. I was selfish and stupid and everything you said I was. And I’m sorry… I know you know, but you can’t… believe it now, and I... I get that. I understand. But Josh… when I said I wanted you, all those times I said it… I meant it. I meant it then, and I mean it now. You said... that, that was not enough… I want it to be enough. I hope that you… can still… allow me to try.
“Do you really want me, or do you just want to be wanted again?” Josh whispers.
This time, Pau reaches for both of his hands. “I’m for you, Josh. Only you.”
The gentleness of his grip makes Josh tear up again. The devil, the ghost, the apparition, the fire. His angel, his moth. The innocent, wordless pleading in his eyes.
“What changed? Why is it me again?” Josh stares at him, wiping at his face roughly. His eyes search Pau’s face, looking desperate and tired.
Pau breathes out, slow and heavy, his heart hammering against his ribs.
“My everywhere… is you.”
“Don’t say shit like that just to get what you want. Because I can't do this again. I can’t keep running after you. I can’t keep chasing you. I owe myself at least that,” Josh says in a small voice.
“No. I don’t want you to follow me anywhere anymore.”
“What makes you different this time?”
“I mean to stay. Wherever you are.”
Josh wipes his eyes again.
“What if I don’t want to? What if I’ve really had enough?”
Pau looks up at Josh, his eyes glassy but clear. His shoulders drop, but he holds his ground.
“I’ll take whatever you decide. But Josh... if you let me… all I’m asking now… really… is for the chance to… just try. If you can still give it… because I’ve already taken so much.”
Josh swallows hard. He feels the walls within him tremble.
Pau lets out a shaky breath, his voice barely above a whisper.
“I’ll work on me, Josh. I’ll work with you. No shortcuts. No running. No lies.”
Josh stares at him, his chest thudding so loud it’s deafening.
He looks away, wiping his face, the silence stretching thin between them.
He stands up from the floor and looks at Pau, still sitting down.
“If you want to, you… can stay the night.”
Pau blinks, surprised.
He nods once and stands up. On his face, the gentlest, softest smile.
Chapter 17: Here, No Sugar
Summary:
Honesty comes just as it is, with no salt, no sugar. Just facts that allow one to learn how to stay, and another to get encouraged to jump.
Or where Jah cries about touching a boob, Fil tells Josh to stop simping, and where Pau's cooking prowess (or the lack of it) prompts Yra to prepare two different Powerpoint decks.
What does it take to rebuild a home when the foundation is still shaking?
Notes:
HAPPY #SEJOSH DAY, MGA PATO!!!! KWAK KWAK KWAK
I'm on X if you want to engage: @luna_in_limbo :)))
Chapter Text
🎧 FOR THE MOOD:
BACK TO FRIENDS - sombr (ulit ulit hahaha)
SIGN OF THE TIMES - Harry Styles
💿 FULL MIXTAPE:
Yves finds Jah glassy-eyed and half-crying on one of the club’s booths, fully drunk and clutching at a half-finished margarita. The club is cleared now of everyone, and Jah sits there alone.
“Oh, poor you. What happened?” Yves says as he comes running to Jah, quickly wiping the drool dripping from his mouth. Fil takes the margarita glass off his hands, and Jah tries to fight it with a pout. Fil shoots him a look and manages to take his grip off the glass. He chugs what’s remaining in one swoop, shaking his head.
“Yuck, what even is this drink? Did you get drunk on yogurt? Who gave this to you?” Fil groans, showing his tongue.
“She let me touch her boob, and then she was gone,” Jah says bitterly, clutching at his collar. Yves cups his hands over Jah’s mouth, then starts to check on him methodically. He wipes an errant lipstick stain on his neck, raises both his arms, and pulls down his eyes.
Fil belts out a throaty laugh, almost choking. “How big were they, Jah? Show me with your hands!”
Jah raises his hands in the air, starts forming a cup, but Yves pulls down his hands before he can continue. Yves slaps the side of Fil’s head.
“Fuck you, you’re not helping.”
“I love her! Why did she leave me? We could’ve gotten married in a garden.” Jah protests with full-blown sobs. The bar cleaners stop what they’re doing for a bit and look in their direction. Yves gives them a small wave and a pained smile.
Fil bursts out laughing again, slapping his thighs. “You touched a boob, my boy. You’re not in love, but congratulations. Oh, you’re growing up so fast before our eyes. Ugh, my lower back aches.”
“Love is stupid. I don’t like it.” Jah says, pouting with a resolve.
“Oh, poor baby, don’t we all. Don’t we all. Come on, let’s take you home. Go get your car, Fil. You can drive fine, right?” Yves says.
“Why me?” Fil asks half-grudgingly.
“You wanna be the one sitting beside this blubbering mess in the backseat? He’s gonna hug you all throughout the car ride. Be my guest.” Yves snipes.
“Yuck. Fine. Just bring him to the entrance and wait for me.” Fil says, and then he walks out.
They manage to get Jah into Fil’s car, and Yves sits with him in the backseat. Jah automatically leans his head on Yves’ shoulders. Fil turns to them as he starts the engine.
“See? Look at him,” Yves says, pointing with his lips to the half-conscious log on his shoulders.
Fil returns his gaze to the dashboard as he starts pulling out of the parking lot. “Let’s just take him to your place, Ves. He’ll have a hard time waking up alone tomorrow.” Fil says with a quiet concern in his voice.
Yves nods at him and then feels his phone buzzing inside his pocket. It’s Yra. Yves picks up the call with a sigh.
Yra:
“Did you find him? Where are you?”
Yves:
“Yes. Heartbroken and drunk and mumbling about touching boobs.”
Yra:
“Oh my god. I need a fucking break. Crotch grab. Boob grab. What’s next, Fil in prison?”
Yves:
“Sorry, Yra. Fil’s driving. We’re taking Jah back to my place.”
Yra:
“And where’s the diva and his mic stand?”
Yves:
“Guard said the diva followed his mic stand on his bike.”
Yra:
“Half-naked and drunk? Ves, if you kill me now, I would actually thank you.”
Yves lets out a half-chuckle in the dark of the car.
Yves:
“We’ve had longer nights, Yra.”
Yves suddenly feels the tiredness in his bones, and for a moment, he closes his eyes.
Yra pauses a bit before he answers.
Yra:
“Right. Take care, you guys. Drive safely. Get a good rest.”
Yves:
“Thanks, boss. You, too.”
Yra:
“You bet. Crotches and boobs? I’m gonna vacuum the whole world tomorrow.”
The line clicks, and Jah regains some consciousness on Yves’ shoulders.
“You know… they just love each other so much, right… That is… the love I want. Bright…” Jah blurts and then drifts out again.
Yves looks at him with a sad smile. Adjusts his head on his shoulders.
“He’s not wrong, you know,” Fil mutters under his breath as he turns the street towards Yves’ condo.
***
Josh lies in his bed, twisting and turning. Pau insisted he sleep on the couch outside. For a moment, Josh has his eyes glued to the ceiling, like he’s waiting for it to help him decide. He gets up and sits on the bed for a while, and then leaves the room to check on Pau.
Pau lies on his side, his height too long for the couch. Half of his body is almost on the floor, arms hanging loosely by his side. His beautiful hair sits quietly on the small pillow, loose and alive, even when he’s fast asleep.
Josh walks toward him and stares at him quietly. He sits beside the couch on the floor, feeling a quiet calm creeping in.
I love you. I want to trust you. A heavy lump sitting in the middle of his chest.
Pau stirs, opens his eyes half-lidded. “Hey,” he says softly, wiping his mouth. “Do you want me to go?”
“You can’t rest right like that,” Josh whispers tentatively. “Come on, get up. My bed’s wide enough for the two of us.”
Pau wakes up fully and stares at Josh searchingly. “Are you sure?”
Josh gets up from the floor and starts walking to his room. “Don’t wait for me to change my mind.”
***
Pau follows Josh quietly, his tiptoes light and tentative. He finds Josh already hunched under the covers, an empty space beside him in the bed. Pau is immediately transported back to the years past. The thousand kisses they shared in this room, Josh’s cutting profile against the soft light. Ice cream in tubs, stupid pillow fights. Josh’s piercing getting caught in his lips in the middle of a fight. Them, ending up making out. Josh’s strong hands pulling at his hair. Sweat. Chanel. His cries of delight.
He shuts his eyes tightly to forget.
“Come,” Josh’s soft voice cuts through the montage in his mind. He opens his eyes and scans the room. Everything in place, everything as lush as Josh. The room smells of expensive sandalwood. In the corner, a plant.
Pau gasps.
That’s mine, isn’t it?
The one Josh quietly watered in Taipei, even when he didn’t ask.
Josh catches him staring at the plant. “You forget anyway. Wanted to take care of something,” he whispers.
Pau walks toward the bed, lies on top of the covers. The quiet of the room amplifying the soft rustling of the sheets.
“Like you won’t get cold. Just slip in under,” Josh says, his back to him. Distant, but not far.
Pau stares at his back in the dark, his chest heaving. He lies with his back against the ceiling, and he closes his eyes.
Am I allowed to try?
Josh turns on his side, still asleep. Pau stares at his profile, the soft moonlight reflecting its shadows. Josh parts his lips slightly, like he’s trying to breathe better. Pau almost brushes a finger against his lips, but Josh turns away again.
This is my finish line.
Pau shifts closer to Josh and reaches his hands across his waist. He finds Josh’s hand resting on his stomach. He puts his hand on top of his, lets their fingers intertwine.
He’s surprised that Josh doesn’t pull away. Pau exhales slowly, letting his forehead rest against the back of Josh’s shoulder. He feels Josh’s fingers against his, curling just a little tighter.
“Can I hug you, Josh?” he whispers softly to his neck.
Josh stirs slightly but doesn’t answer. Instead, he moves his back closer. Perfectly fitting into his chest.
Pau hugs him tighter. Soft tears forming in his eyes.
They spend the rest of the night like that.
***
Josh awakes with a quiet dullness in his head, the soft morning light coming in through the windows making him squint. He turns to his side and sees a dent in the sheets. He looks at his hands against the light, still feeling the warmth of Pau’s fingers on them. He wonders if he was dreaming. If that really happened. Pau asking if he could hug him. Like he even needs to ask.
Josh hears movement in the kitchen. His coffee machine whirring, a pan hissing. The smell of butter and eggs blends with the soft sandalwood in his room. Josh thinks the apartment smells like mornings they used to have.
He gets up, exhaling slowly. Wraps a towel over his shoulders. He gets out of the room and tiptoes to the kitchen.
Pau, hair tied up with a random rubber band, his back to him. Josh leans on the counter, one hand under his chin. He watches Pau standing in front of his stove, quietly muttering under his breath.
“Why won’t you fry right? Why are you fighting me?”
Pau turns around and catches Josh staring.
He takes the pan off the stove, another hand quickly turning it off. “Hi… sorry… I… moved around here. Thought maybe… you’d like something to eat.” He sets off the pan on the counter, one hand resting on his nape.
Josh offers him a small smile. “Why are you scolding the eggs?”
“Sorry, Josh. I couldn’t... find your salt.”
“Just bring the pan here.”
“Do you still keep your mugs in—”
“Yes.”
Pau nods at him, reaches through a corner cupboard. His hand scans the cups perfectly stacked on each other until he reaches one that sits a little hidden from the others.
He takes it out and runs his fingers through it.
“Josh, this is so old.” He looks at him with a sad smile. Almost wistful.
“That was your first gift to me.”
Pau sighs and sets it softly on the counter. He reaches for another mug and then takes the coffee pot off the machine. He half-runs with both mugs and the coffee pot in one hand to where Josh is sitting.
“Here, Josh, no sugar,” he says half-breathlessly.
“Careful. You move so much and so fast. You’ll hurt yourself.”
“Sorry,” Pau says in a soft voice, settling the items in his hands on the counter.
Josh takes a fork and eats the scrambled eggs straight from the pan. Pau looks at him like an eager child, watching his every bite.
“It’s very good. Thank you,” Josh says with a small smile. The eggs taste like wet paper on his tongue, undercooked and underseasoned, but he doesn’t mind.
“It’s just eggs,” Pau says softly, almost embarrassed, but Josh knows he’s quietly beaming up inside.
They eat the tasteless eggs in silence, in between quiet sighs and smiles.
“I’ll go, Josh. Thanks for letting me stay the night,” Pau says after a while. He starts picking up his clothes from last night.
“I’ll return your clothes after I get them washed,” he continues quietly.
Josh just nods. He sees Pau taking in another look at the apartment before he starts for the door. The door closes behind him, and Josh walks toward his window.
He sees Pau outside fumbling with his helmet, staring at his window.
Josh hides behind the curtains until he hears his bike roar out of the lot.
Wait for me, pretty boy. All we need is time.
***
They see each other again after three days. Pau steps out of his car, in a grey t-shirt and wide jeans, a Y3 cap. On his wrist, his old Seiko, still with the frayed leather strap. He walks in through the building and sees Josh waiting by the elevator. Josh, in sweatpants and an oversized bomber jacket, notices him and turns, giving a small smile in his direction.
“Hi,” Pau says timidly.
Josh notices his watch and almost hesitates. “You still… got that old thing?”
Pau looks at his wrist like he forgot he’s wearing it. “Oh, this… Yeah,” he smiles warmly. “It still tells the time.”
The elevator dings, and they ride together without saying another word.
***
It’s a brand shoot day, and the studio buzzes with energy as stylists and photographers continue moving about, fixing lights, sets, and wardrobe changes. The rest of the boys roll in one after the other, with Pau and Josh stepping in last. Side by side, and everyone notices in hushed voices.
“Oh my god, look how pretty Pau is. So fresh, so simple.” One of the wardrobe staff says, in between steaming the boys’ pants for the shoot.
“Josh looks like he’s finally had a decent sleep in months. His lips are pinker, too?” The light technician says in between giggles.
“Stop. Stop. Did you see that? Did Josh just push Pau gently… through the top of his ass? Oh my god, I’m gonna die.”
“Who’s gonna die?” Yra says, suddenly appearing from the back to eavesdrop.
“Sorry, boss,” the staff say and immediately go back to what they were doing.
“Scram, you simps. This is a professional enterprise.”
***
Fil sees the pair first, already sitting in his make-up chair.
“Oh my god, I may no longer need blush. Look at them! Did you ride the same caaaarrr???” he says teasingly.
“Fil, fuck off. It’s so early in the morning,” Josh scoffs as he sits into his make-up chair.
Jah gets off his make-up chair and runs toward Pau with a wide-armed hug. “Pau! You smell so good! Like rain and grass.”
Pau hugs him tighter, ruffles his hair. “It’s just my usual Issey. How have you been, our baby boy?”
“Your baby boy touched a boob some nights ago and was thinking of getting married in a garden without you or Josh,” Yves says beneath layers of foundation.
Both Pau and Josh chuckle, and the rest of the room exchanges knowing glances.
Pau finally sits in his make-up chair. The hairstylist assigned to him fusses with his hair, and Josh looks at him in the mirror.
“Josh… eyes here, please.” The head make-up artist says, holding an eyeliner pencil.
Fil chuckles and reaches out to slap Josh on the arm. “Oh… still an arm then. Thought it was whipped cream again.”
“Fil, no sudden movements, please.” The make-up artist says exasperatedly. Josh smirks.
“You look happy,” Yves whispers to Pau, smiling.
“Do I?” Pau answers with a shy laugh.
“Pau, please don’t blush on me… hard to figure out how much blush I need to put on you.”
“I told you guys, they don’t need blushers already! You never listen,” Fil remarks with a pout, arms crossed.
***
Pau steps onto the solo set, the lights hitting him just right. The camera loves him, and so does the room.
Josh stands off to the side with his arms crossed. He pretends so hard he’s not watching, but when a hair strand falls on Pau’s cheeks, he almost runs to fix it himself.
His jaw slackens just a little as he watches Pau laugh between shots, hands running through his hair, flashing that grin that could ruin nations.
Fil sidles up to him. “Close your mouth, Josh.”
Josh startles, snapping his jaw shut. “Shut up. I was yawning.”
“Is that how big he is? Your slutty little mouth getting some practice? Come, boy, let me see your knees.” Fil grins and whispers.
Josh elbows him, face burning, but he can’t stop the laugh that slips out. “Fuck you, Fil. Fucking asshole,” he grumbles.
Fil just cackles, clapping him on the back. “Oh, you wanna show your asshole now? My man, my man. Just 11 am and he’s fucking gone.”
Josh rolls his eyes at Fil, who lets out a breathy laugh.
“And what if I am, bro?” Josh says softly, watching Pau strike another pose.
Fil catches the shift in his tone and looks at him testily.
The shoot resets between setups, and Pau steps off to retouch his makeup. Josh stays rooted where he is, still looking at where Pau just stood, like the space itself still holds his gravity.
Fil watches him like a beloved pet fish in an aquarium. He exhales through his nose and shakes his head a little.
“Okay. For real now, man. What’s the deal?” Fil asks in a soft voice.
Josh blinks. “I don’t know. What do you mean?”
Fil squints his eyes. “My skincare’s too expensive for you to be bullshitting me.”
Josh hangs his head. “I don’t… I’m not sure yet, man.”
“You’re not sure of what?”
Josh sighs, running a hand through his hair. He looks down at his shoes and kicks an imaginary rock.
“I’m his, bro. You… know that much. But… I’m trying to figure out if I… can trust him again.”
Fil stays quiet for a second, letting the words sink in.
“So what, now? You waiting for him to break you again, or you gonna make him prove he won’t?” he says gently.
Josh bites his lip. “I don’t know, Fil. I don’t know if he can prove it. But every time he looks at me like that... man… I really, really want to believe he actually could.”
Fil loops a hand around his shoulders.
“All this proving thing… haven’t I always told you nobody’s got eight years? Just decide what you want, Josh. And if it’s him... then fuck it. You already flew. This time, you can fucking jump.”
Josh lets out a shaky breath, heart thudding in steady beats inside his chest.
Pau laughs from across the room, head thrown back at something Yves said.
Fil stands beside Josh as he watches Pau again. Josh’s eyes burning softly while staring at his sun.
***
The shoot wraps up, and Pau tells the boys they can go ahead while he catches up on work stuff. I like hotpot as much as you guys, but these e-mails won’t answer themselves, is what he tells Yves. Josh half-hears him answer and nods once in his direction. The boys leave, their laughter echoing quietly across the hall.
It’s around 8 pm when Yra knocks on his office door.
“Hey, you’re still here? I thought you went with them to the hotpot place?” Yra asks as he comes inside, the glass door gently closing behind him.
“Well, you know… work beckons,” Pau says with a tired smile.
Yra sits in the chair across his desk.
“What’s up, Yra?” Pau asks as he puts away the papers he has been signing on his desk.
“So. The photo. The dancefloor. Crotch grabs. Drunk driving on a bike.”
Pau lets out a long sigh.
“I’m sorry, Yra. For everything. Tell me what I can do to help fix shit up.”
“That’s my job, Pau. And you hired me because you know I always do my job.” Yra says with a tired smile.
Pau smiles.
“And… You and Josh?” Yra asks, leaning on the desk.
Pau settles back into his chair, runs a hand through his hair. “I don’t know, Yra. I think… we’re figuring it out.”
“Not judging, Pau. Just asking if I should prep the crisis deck or the soft-launch campaign.”
Pau lets out a soft chuckle. He puts his head in his hands, covering his face.
“I can’t… not be with him anymore, Yra. That’s all I know.”
“Everyone knows, Pau. At least here. In the agency.”
Pau stands up and walks toward the window behind him, facing the city. “With the old agency, we couldn’t even… look at each other too long, you know. And we knew what we were going into. But Yra… that didn’t mean that it wasn’t… also fucking hard.”
Yra sighs. Pau continues.
“They made me leader when I was 19. I didn’t want it. I never wanted it. All I ever wanted... was to write my songs and sing them. Josh tied my sneakers once when I couldn’t do it. Knees busted during training… and then… I was gone. By 20, I told him I loved him. He was my world, Yra. He’s always been.”
“Careful, Pau. You’re gonna make a grown man cry.” Yra says with a quiet smile.
“I don’t know, Yra. I don’t mean to… defend myself or what. Perhaps… I just wanted to… remember how it all started. For it to make sense to where I wanna go now. He told me… in Taipei, that I… ruin everything I touch. And it’s true, Yra. It fucking hurts, but it is. Was. Cos… I don’t… wanna be that guy anymore. I want to be careful. I want to be me. I want to deserve everything I’m given. I want to… deserve him.”
Pau turns around and sees Yra leaning on a wall facing him. “Wow, Pau. Thank you… for telling me.”
“Tell me, Yra. Can we survive it? Will they let us?” Pau asks, a deep sadness in his eyes.
“You run this company, Pau. Built it with your own hands. You could say ‘we’re in love’ on national TV if you wanted to. The market’s evolving, too. Fans love honesty. Of course, there’s risk. There always is. Some of the market's still conservative. Investors, too.” Yra says.
“We didn’t build this agency just to stay hidden again,” Pau says with a quiet resolve.
“Then don’t. Just be smart about it. Let us do the math. Whatever you guys decide, we’ll see to it that it pans out.” Yra stands up, preparing to leave.
“This world’s big enough for all of us to live in it, Pau. Some people sit and watch… some people stand up and decide. You choose which you wanna be. And if you’re gonna ask me… then… go with the one that makes you feel most alive.”
Yra winks at him and starts for the door.
Pau nods and smiles at him with quiet gratitude.
The door closes quietly behind Yra.
Pau looks back out to the city behind him, dark but glittering with a thousand tiny lights.
Look how they shine.
Chapter 18: Layers
Summary:
The rain can be a cloak, and a fever can make way into a confession.
What happens when anything can be a layer to be put on or taken off?Or simply, Pau takes care of a sick Josh. :)))
Notes:
[[This chapter is dedicated to my good friend from down under, who we'll have here in a short cameo as "Joj" :) Thank you Mallows, for all the love and support :)]]
I'm on X if you want to engage: @luna_in_limbo
Chapter Text
🎧 FOR THE MOOD:
ANYTHING YOU WANT (Stripped) - Reality Club
💿 FULL MIXTAPE:
The days quickly blur into each other as the boys near their first arena performance post-Taipei. Rehearsals, recordings, costume fittings, radio guest appearances, label meetings and visits. Everything once more to a well-calculated pace, with the boys in the middle, confident and sure, tired but fulfilled.
One late night after another shooting for a clothing line, Josh’s car breaks down in the parking lot. The weather turns for the worse, and his emergency mechanic says he would be unable to come down to take a look. Josh tries to book a ride home, but nobody’s taking his booking. He decides to just stay in the office to rest and stay the night, and Pau catches him fixing the studio couch with makeshift pillows.
“Josh? What are you doing here? I thought you left already,” Pau asks with half his head peering in the glass door, his backpack half-slung on his shoulders.
“Car broke down. Joj says he can’t come take a look tonight,” he answers with a grimace and a heavy tiredness in his shoulders.
Pau enters the room and sets his backpack down. “Joj?” He feels a slight panic in his chest. Josh sounds like he’s supposed to know him.
Joj? Joj who?
Josh notices the flash of pained confusion on Pau’s face. “My mechanic,” he says with a teasing smile.
“Oh. Do I know him?”
“Well… he’s the one who also used to fix the plumbing in the old apartment we used to—“ Josh trails off.
“…share. Right, right.” Pau softly shakes his head. Smiles.
A soft silence hangs in the air, but outside, thunderclaps almost shake the room. Pau puts his hands in the back pockets of his jeans and exhales before speaking.
“That doesn’t look cozy,” he says, pointing with his lips to Josh’s pillow fort on the couch. “You intend to stay the night?”
Josh half-closes his eyes in response. Pau walks to a corner and picks up Josh’s hoodie and bags.
“Come. I’ll drive you home. Your jawline will ruin that couch.”
Josh thinks to protest, but Pau already waits at the door, one hand on the light switch.
Josh stretches for a bit, then gets up and follows him to the door. The rain continues to pour in torrents outside.
***
Pau drives slowly, the sound of wet asphalt crunching under his tires blending with the fat raindrops falling continuously on the car’s windshield. Josh sits fast asleep on the passenger seat, his head lolling near the window.
The car stops at a light, and Pau notices Josh’s head almost hitting the door lock. He stares at him for a bit, pained at how seemingly tired his passenger is. He flicks his tongue and reaches out to shift his head so that it’s back resting on the headrest. His nape feels warm on Pau’s hand, like he’s starting to actually run a fever. He turns to reach Josh’s hoodie and drapes it on him. Turns the A/C lower because Josh has never been good with the cold.
Oh, no, no, Josh. Please don’t be sick.
Josh feels the soft fabric draped over him and shifts a bit. The light turns green, and Pau returns his vision to the road. There’s a mild traffic building up, and the drive becomes even slower, almost close to a standstill.
Pau fumbles with the car’s radio with one hand, the sounds of traffic and the consistent rain hurting his ears. The first station he finds plays a stupid love song, and he immediately switches to the next one. He carefully adjusts the volume lower so Josh can continue with his sleep.
Pau taps his fingers on the steering wheel, waiting for the traffic to move. He turns to his side to check on Josh, both amazed and in disbelief that he’s actually inside his car again, like before, for so many years, and now, after so very long. He remembers Josh’s old car, the first he got with their first big salary, its heavy clutch and loose brakes, the windows with their fading, sorry tint. Josh taught him to drive in that silly, old car. They used that for three years, driving to their smaller gigs back in the day, smelling of old popcorn—some newspaper writer said— and pure tenacity. Josh got his first big bottle of Chanel after reading that. A decade later, he still does. Always the biggest one.
A song plays, and Pau feels a quiet numbness drifting in.
“You leapt from crumbling bridges, watching cityscapes turn to dust
Filming helicopters crashing in the ocean from way above”
He moves to change the station, but his mind drifts. Crumpled sheets, him crying. The Taiwanese man and his broken English.
“Kisses on the foreheads of the lovers wrapped in your arms
You've been hiding them in hollowed-out pianos left in the dark”
He leans his head on the window, one hand across his mouth.
“Got the music in you, baby, tell me why
You've been locked in here forever, and you just can't say goodbye”
Pau returns from his drift when the radio suddenly changes to a new song. He turns again to check on Josh, and he catches his hand on the radio’s dial.
“Are you okay?” Josh asks him softly, his voice laced with quiet concern.
He pauses a bit before answering, his eyes a little sad. “I heard that once… when I thought the world was ending. When I wanted it to end… Apocalypse, Josh. So apt… You could only have laughed.”
Josh finds his hands on the gear shift, laces his fingers with his.
“Well, it didn’t end, did it?”
They both smile in the dark.
“Did you eat anything today?” Josh asks after a while. The traffic has eased, and Pau continues to carefully drive.
Pau smiles thinly. “I don’t know. I forgot.”
“I hear your stomach grumbling from here,” Josh says with a smirk.
“You’re running a fever, Josh. I’m okay.”
“Your place is closer. You don’t have to drive me home. I can… stay the night.”
Josh looks at him tentatively. Pau’s face alternates with the lights of the street posts they pass and the shadows in between.
“I haven’t… changed my sheets.”
Josh smiles at his own reflection on the car’s window.
“Just drive towards there, Pau. Just drive.”
Pau presses his foot on the clutch just a little bit harder.
***
“Can you walk, Josh?” Pau worriedly asks as he opens up Josh’s car door. He carries both their bags in one hand and an umbrella in the other.
“Are you an ambulance?” Josh snarks in response. He gets out of the car, missing Pau’s umbrella. The rain quickly drips down his head.
“Oh no, no, no. Here, Josh, here,” Pau frantically says as he pulls Josh tighter to him under the umbrella.
Josh feels his heart leap a bit. He wraps a hand around his waist, like a magnet finding its natural pole, and they run to the door. The rain returns with a heavy, steady flow.
***
Pau fumbles with his keys, holding all their stuff with both hands. Josh looks at him amusedly, helplessly trying to fish it out.
“Left pocket?” he asks, and Pau responds with a shy nod.
Josh sinks a hand into his pocket, trying to grasp it amidst all the clutter. “How deep does your pocket go?” He says with a slight annoyance.
Pau just stands there trying to breathe normally.
“I don’t have to do this if you just first set all this shit you’re carrying down.”
“But you’re already in too deep, Josh. Don’t stop now.” Pau says teasingly.
“Oh my god, fuck you. I’m actually totally gonna be down with the flu after we’re done.”
“After we’re done?” Pau grins.
Josh finally has the keys and dangles them in front of Pau’s face. “Too bad. You haven’t changed your sheets, have you?”
He inserts the key into the knob and pushes it open.
***
Josh thinks he would be greeted by a mess. Pau turns the light on, and Josh is pleasantly surprised. The room is clean, almost sterile. On the windows, gentle tulle curtains in white. Even the throw pillows on the small couch are in place, their covers looking ironed.
Pau motions for him to come in, dropping the stuff he’s carrying gently by the door side. He closes the door gently after Josh comes inside.
Josh continues to look around, careful not to be noticed. Even the sink is sparkling. His bar counter with a rattan runner in the middle, hand sanitizer in a brown pump bottle on the side.
A rattan runner? Who is this guy?
Pau notices Josh staring at the runner, and he breaks the quiet.
“Ves gave that to me,” he says with that boyish tone of his. “He says it fits nicely with the place.”
Josh turns to look at him. “Did Ves also iron your pillow covers?” he says, amusedly.
Pau runs a hand through his hair. “Oh no… everything else is me.”
Josh quietly marvels at the redecorated place. He hasn’t seen it in the last two years. There used to be shoes haplessly piled up at a corner near the TV. A random hoodie hanging off a kitchen chair. Socks kicked under the couch. Dusty and half-read books on the couch, you would have to move the pile to the side so you have some place to sit. Even his place in Taipei was like that. There’s none of it now. He wonders if he stepped into another man’s house.
Josh feels a slight burning in his head, and for a moment, he feels dizzy. He turns to Pau slowly. “Where do I sit?”
Pau jolts into action with a slight panic. “Oh, sorry, sorry. On the couch, Josh. Let’s fix you up with something.” He puts a finger to his mouth, eyes blinking fast and thinking. “Can I take off your shoes? Can you lift your foot?”
Josh wants to laugh, but he’s starting to feel really shitty. He moves to the couch and plops on it, his head instantly sinking into the pillows.
“Pau, I walked here, didn’t I? Relax, okay. We can start with water. And aspirin, please, if you have them.”
“Oh, oh… right, right… Sorry, Josh. Okay, wait,” and he half-runs to the kitchen before Josh can say anything more.
Josh takes off his sneakers, a tiredness washing over him in tides. Outside, the rain still gushes, and he lies down on the couch, his body aching all over.
Pau returns with a glass of water and an aspirin on one hand. He sees Josh half-dozing on the couch, his body writhing.
“Joshie! Oh my god! No, no, no! Here, here… drink this! Oh my god! Let’s get you up for a bit, please. Josh! Josh!”
Josh feels the full-blown panic in Pau’s voice through half-lidded eyes. Half-hears him calling him Joshie. He tries to get up from the couch, but his body feels like a dead log. Pau rushes to him and helps him sit up. He feels his hand, warm against his back, his hair falling on his face, and Josh almost thinks that if he hugs him, this fever will pass.
Pau holds the glass close to his lips, gently guiding him to sip. “Can you open your mouth, Joshie… here is the aspirin,” he whispers.
Josh looks at his eyes, brown and round as small saucers. The ones you find in teddy bears. He takes the aspirin and pops it into his mouth, Pau watching him intently.
“I’m gonna be fine, Pau. Just let me nap for a bit.”
Pau watches him drift into sleep, worried there’s a step he’s missing.
More, I need to do more.
He throws off his jacket to the floor.
***
Ves is in the middle of waiting for his oven to beep, but it’s his phone that suddenly shrills. He takes a quick glance at his phone and sees Pau calling.
Pau:
“Ves… Ves… Josh is sick.”
Yves hears the panic in his voice, even when the volume is just about a notch above a whisper.
Ves:
“Okay? And how do you know?”
Pau:
“He’s here at my house…”
That he says it in a full-blown whisper makes Yves chuckle lightly. Is this a secret? Why should this be a secret? Is he proud? But he sounds so worried.
Ves:
“Okay? So, are you calling me to—"
Pau:
“What do I do, Ves?”
Ves:
“What do you mean ‘What do I do’? Take care of him, then, you babie. What’s he doing there anyway?”
Yves’ oven finally beeps, and he scrambles to turn it off.
Pau:
“He has a fever, Ves. I gave him aspirin. Do I need to take him to the hospital?”
Yves sighs. This should come with extra pay as staff nurse.
Yves:
“Have you never taken care of him before… when you were still together?”
Are you together now again? Oh my god, this might be a real secret, then. Why is he at his house?
There was a pause in the line, and Yves heard Pau’s quiet sigh before he answered.
Pau:
“I was always the one who was sickly, Ves. And he always took care of me.”
Yves feels his heart melt at the panic and confusion in his voice.
Yves:
“Aww... Pau... everybody knows.”
Pau:
“What do I do, Ves? You’re taking so long.”
Yves puts a hand under his chin, sitting on his kitchen counter. The slight annoyance in Pau’s voice is now making him chuckle again. This poor babie, trying to take care of the strongest one. What if he overdoses him with aspirin? Oh, god.
Yves:
“Oh my god, aren’t you cute? I can’t wait to tell Fil. Anyway… first, change him into more comfortable clothes…”
Yves hears him swallowing on the other line.
Yves:
“Number two… try not to fuck him in that state. That’s illegal even if you worship him.”
Pau:
“Ves!”
Yves:
“Number three… take his temperature regularly and monitor it every hour. If he still has a fever by the third hour… You give him an aspirin again. What’s that I’m hearing in the background?”
Pau:
“I’m writing everything down.”
Yves:
“Why don’t you just Google this shit down?”
Pau:
“You’re more correct than Google, Ves. Everybody knows that. What’s number four?”
Yves smiles.
Yves:
“Correct. Right and true. Number four… try cooking him something warm. Don’t order takeout, there’s a fucking typhoon outside. You’re gonna go viral again. Pretty but fucking heartless… oh, I can almost read it now..."
Pau:
"Okay... number five? Do I wash him?”
Yves:
“Do you want to? He’s not a plate, you know.”
Pau:
“If it helps, I would.”
Yves:
“You can, especially if his fever hasn’t let on. Don’t carry him into the tub, okay? Just wipe him off. With warm water. Listen, Pau… the most important thing is that he’s comfortable.”
Pau:
“Okay. ‘No tub.’ Number 6?”
Yves:
“Love him right.”
Yves hears Pau stop writing in the background. He laughs.
Yves:
“I’m kidding, babie. Or maybe not. Anyway, let me know how he holds up, alright? You’ve got this. You’re gonna do an amazing job.”
Pau:
“Thank you, Ves. So much. I’m gonna go check him now.”
The call drops. Yves sits at his counter with a smile on his face. He sends Fil a text.
Yves:
“U won’t blv what’s happened. Will call u after I’ve eaten my pie”
Yves sets his phone on the counter, and he takes a bite of his pie. Sweet, warm, just right.
Made from scratch. Perfect.
Maybe they can have their pie and eat it too.
Yves smiles to himself.
***
Pau changes into an old pair of shorts and an old shirt with holes in it. He ties his hair up in a bun before crouching on his bedroom floor, trying to reach within the far end of the TV cabinet for a box.
He feels the soft edges of the wooden box and brings it out to the light. It’s a first aid kit Jah gave him once, after he got into an accident with his bike. Jah worried sick visiting him in the hospital, his arm in a sling. Josh gave Jah some colored pens he got from the hospital’s gift shop. Told Jah he can draw on the cast, so he forgets to cry.
There must be a thermometer here somewhere.
He opens the box and checks its contents. Some printed band-aids, a hot compress with a strawberry print, a pair of scissors in the shape of a parrot.
Oh, there it is.
He opens his closet to find clothes Josh can get into. He picks a white shirt, sniffs it, and decides that it’s okay. A pair of soft joggers in gray. From another drawer, a pair of socks.
This is too thin.
He empties the drawer’s contents on the floor, scattering all the socks. He picks another one in purple, made of wool. It’s the softest pair he owns, and Josh would feel like he’s walking on clouds.
Perfect.
Pau takes his small haul back to where Josh is lying down with his eyes tightly shut. Pau puts his haul down on the floor and kneels beside Josh, putting the back of his hand to his neck. It still feels warm to his touch, and he sticks the thermometer under his pits.
It beeps, and Pau pulls it out. 38.9.
Oh no, he still has the fever. Where’s my notebook?
Pau runs to the counter to get his notebook, reads it, then hurries back again to the floor beside Josh.
Oh, wait, I need to heat some water. I need towels to wipe him off, too.
Pau runs back to the kitchen to heat water. He returns to his room to get some towels. When he gets out, the kettle is already ringing. He rushes again to turn it off.
You’re noisy. You’ll wake him.
He searches through his kitchen cabinets trying to find a basin.
Why don’t I have a basin? Josh would have a basin.
He doesn’t find any and settles for a huge salad bowl instead. Pyrex.
Why do I have a Pyrex bowl?
He half-fills the bowl with water from the faucet, and then puts the hot water in. He tests the water. His notebook says ‘warm.’
Perfect.
He hears him groaning from afar, and Pau scrambles back to where he is, carefully juggling the towels and his Pyrex bowl so that it doesn’t spill.
Josh lies on the couch, his eyes tightly shut. His groans do not stop, and Pau feels a sharp pain forming in his chest.
He taps Josh lightly on the shoulders, and Josh stirs, now half-awake.
“Joshie… we need to change you into more comfy clothes,” he whispers.
Josh barely moves, but he manages a small nod.
Pau manages to get Josh into a half-sitting position, and he takes off his shirt. He’s burning under Pau’s hands, but he feels like he’s burning too.
Focus.
Josh unclasps his belt, but is not able to continue. His grasp feels weak, and he leans into the couch once more.
Pau fumbles with his belt instead, staring at his face. He takes off his pants, his black boxers hugging his slim waist so perfectly, and for a bit, Pau reddens.
Focus.
He shakes his head and begins wiping him off. Josh shivers, and Pau reaches for the remote to turn off the A/C. The towel runs above his abs, and Pau swallows, closing his eyes.
He puts on the fresh shirt on Josh, and then the joggers. He sits on the floor, carries Josh’s feet on his thighs, and puts the socks on him.
Perfect.
Pau doesn’t see it, but Josh smiles.
“Joshie… I will carry you to the bed, okay? Just nod if it’s okay. I already changed the sheets.”
“Ok, Pau-Pau,” Josh whispers, and Pau wraps a hand around his back, the other behind his knees.
***
Pau lays Josh gently on the bed, carefully adjusting the covers so that he’s warm under them. Pau starts to leave to try and cook something. Josh hasn’t eaten, and he needs to take another round of aspirin.
“Where are you going?” Josh mumbles.
“I’m going to cook. You need to eat. Can you wait a bit for me?”
“Just… stay with me.” He softly taps the empty space on the bed beside him.
Pau looks at him hesitantly. Number 3 on the notebook says Josh has to eat.
“Josh, you haven’t eaten… and you need to take another aspirin.”
“Don’t… need. You.. I need… here.”
Pau clutches at his chest and starts for the bed. He lies down next to Josh, careful not to squeeze into him. He runs his hand through his hair, looks at him softly.
Josh inches closer and buries his head deep in his chest.
“You… I need…” And then he drifts off to sleep again.
Pau reaches for the aspirin in his pocket and pops it into his mouth instead. His other hand wraps around Josh, like instinct. Like he’s not sweating with the A/C turned off.
Number 6, he thinks, and then he falls asleep, lulled by the sounds of Josh’s soft snores.
***
Josh wakes up in the morning still wrapped in Pau’s arms. There’s a gentle humming in his head, but it seems the fever has gone now. He looks upward and sees Pau still fast asleep, his mouth open, drool pooling at its corners. He stifles a laugh.
He untangles Pau’s arm from his waist, careful not to wake him. He sits beside him in the bed, running his hand through Pau’s hair, his ponytail loosely dangling from one end. Pau rustles, and Josh finds the end of a thermometer peeking through the garter of his shorts. Josh smiles and inches towards him, landing a gentle kiss on his forehead.
God, I love you.
He gets off the bed and sees his feet covered in purple. The socks feel so warm and soft. He smiles and walks to the window, checking on the weather.
The sky is still downcast, but it’s not raining anymore. He starts to walk to the bathroom, and almost trips on the socks scattered on the floor. He crouches on the floor to pick them one by one, and gently puts them back in the drawer sitting empty beside the open closet.
He stands up, wondering what the time is, and he sees a funny-looking clock on the TV cabinet. It’s the same vampire clock Pau had in Taipei, the one that got stuck at 2:00, but now it’s saying it’s 7 am. Josh holds the clock in his hands, wiping off its dusty dial with the ends of his shirt.
You’re a bit dusty, but now you’re finally correct.
He turns the A/C back on before he leaves the room.
***
Josh quietly makes his way to the living room. He almost trips again, this time on a Pyrex bowl on the floor near the couch, half-filled with water and a towel floating on it. He picks it up and sets it on the coffee table.
He’s too pretty to own a basic basin. Right.
He smiles.
He walks over to the windows and touches the tulle curtains, too soft and transparent on his hands. He pushes it to the sides and opens the windows. He stretches his neck and his arms, listening to the quiet sounds of the city outside for a moment.
He picks up the Pyrex from the coffee table and brings it to the kitchen. He opens Pau’s fridge and inspects the cupboards, making a mental note of the stuff he has and hasn’t. He finds a fancy Teflon pan from one of the drawers, takes some eggs and hotdogs from the fridge, and starts to prepare the stove.
He finds Pau’s Keurig, some coffee pods, and takes out two mugs. White and plain. The only two he has.
Josh hears a half-scream above the sound of the hissing pan.
“Josh! Are you ok? Let me do that! Oh my god!”
And suddenly, Pau is beside him, trying to wrestle the spatula from his hands. His hair sticking out in places, bags under his eyes, shirt almost falling off one of his shoulders.
“Sit down, pretty. I found your salt.” Josh says, swatting him away with a soft smile.
Pau pouts, wanting to protest, but he sits on the counter anyway, not saying a word.
“Are you okay, Josh?” he asks again, worry still all over his voice.
Josh doesn’t answer. The pan continues to hiss on his hands. He turns off the stove, walks over to Pau with two plates in one hand, the frying pan in the other. He sets it on the counter, walks back to pick off the mugs, now with hot coffee on them. The steam envelopes the kitchen. Pau finds himself unnerved by the smell of something so familiar. Something like home.
Josh sits across from him, a fork in one hand. “Eat, please. Then later, we go home.”
Pau stares at the spread before him. Eggs, hotdogs, coffee. Josh.
He drifts his stare to Josh’s face, catching his eyes.
“You’re my home, Josh. I love you. I love you.”
Just like that.
Josh forks a hotdog into Pau’s mouth and smiles.
“I know, Pau-Pau. I love you too.”
Pau sobs. His mouth still full of the best breakfast he feels he has ever had.
Chapter 19: Casual Kills
Summary:
Love as told by wolf plushies, orange crocs, a chocolate rug, fake Balenciagas, and Pyrex from an ex. ;)
Notes:
[[it's so fluffy i'm gna die. might be my favorite chapter so far :3]]
I'm on X if you want to engage: @luna_in_limbo. :)))
Chapter Text
🎧 FOR THE MOOD:
💿 FULL MIXTAPE:
At one point, some days after, in Pau’s apartment, Josh asked, “What are we?”, and Pau just said “We”, and then that simply settled that. Some days they spend on end at Josh’s apartment, with Josh teaching Pau how to cook rice properly, or with arms tangled in each other in front of the TV, catching up on Marvel movies even when Pau doesn’t like it. Josh does. After two weeks, Pau has become obsessed with Spider-Man, and Josh wakes up one morning to two hoodies at the foot of the bed. One in black, one in red.
“I’m black Spiderman, you’re red,” Pau tells him, beaming.
“No way I’m gonna wear that,” Josh says, his eyes rolling. Pau pouts at him, and Josh chuckles. He tries it on, and Pau is back again to the small claps he only does when he’s so happy. They wear it out to a random grocery trip, and a picture stealthily taken by a fan gets posted on Twitter, almost shutting down the site. Josh used to be bothered by this. Not anymore now.
“They’re crazy,” Fil tells Yves upon seeing the fan photos online. “Is there a green Spider-Man? I wanna be that.” Yves slaps the side of his head and tells him to just pick another hero, and Fil just says, “Yeah, what about Jose Rizal?”
The other days, they spend at Josh’s, with Pau being excruciatingly careful about Josh’s furniture. He takes off his slippers every time he steps on the chocolate rug in the living room, even when Josh constantly reminds him he has a vacuum. In between rehearsals, appearances, meetings, and interviews, they find themselves at night in quiet sync— Pau humming and playing his guitar in Josh’s room, with Josh always just staring at him like the roundest, pinkest moon. Josh will convulse before he admits that out loud.
After one of their HQ meetings, Jah comes up to Pau and asks him a simple question he wonders why he has never thought about. “Pau, why don’t you just stay in one apartment? So I only have to visit one and not get shuffled about like the son of divorced parents.”
Pau laughs at this and tells Jah, “It’s not that simple,” but when Jah says, “Why?”, he feels his ears suddenly burn, cheeks reddening under the gentle arc of his brow.
When they come home that night to Josh’s apartment, Pau blurts it out, standing in the middle of Josh’s chocolate rug.
“What if I live here, Josh?”
Josh stares at him amusedly, noticing he has both his slippers on.
“On the rug?”
“With you.” He says it so quietly, Josh walks to him and asks him to repeat it.
“Say that again?”
Pau latches both arms to the back of Josh’s nape. “I want to live here with you.”
“What about your Pyrex bowls and Teflon pans?” Josh says, smiling.
“We’ll throw out all your ugly ones and replace them with mine. Especially that large Pyrex bowl that’s my favorite. Marni gave—”
Josh feels a slight pang in his chest. “Marni what?” he asks.
“Marni gave me, as a gift.” Pau continues.
Josh exhales, the faint pang still swirling in his chest. Having Pau here also means his ex’s cookware has to be near his own. It might be cookware this time, and then the next time, who knows?
Pau bats his eyelashes with a sigh. “It’s just Pyrex, Josh.”
“Right… okay. I suppose it would be easier to teach you home stuff logistics-wise.”
Pau rolls his eyes. “Is that a yes, Joshie?”
“Yes. I wanna hear ‘Joshie’ all the time.” He plants a tiny kiss on Pau’s nose.
Pau unlatches his hands from Josh’s nape, aimlessly flapping his arms in the wind like an excited puppy.
“Yes!” he screams, and continues. “You have a basin, right, Josh?”
Josh looks at him confusedly. “Yeah? Of course?”
“You’re perfect! I love you, Josh.”
Josh watches him half-skip to the kitchen, Pau humming a song he doesn’t know. Josh steadies himself on the chocolate rug mumbling to himself, “Holy shit. This is really fucking soft.”
***
In bed that night, Josh thinks about the years they were together and how, indeed, they never lived in the same place long enough for it to matter. He looks at Pau peacefully sleeping beside him, one leg splayed over his, his puffy face buried on his shoulders. Pau feels him shift a bit, and Josh feels a gentle bite on his shoulders. Once, twice. Tiny pecks and then tiny bites.
“Stop,” he says, smiling.
“I love you,” Pau mumbles, adjusting his head and continuing to sleep.
It’s just three words, Josh thinks, and he wonders how it could lift him so easily. The way that he says it so casually, like they didn’t spend the last decade tossing and turning just to hear each other say it more often in all its simplicity.
Josh feels a sudden hardness in his shorts, and Pau rustles under the sheets, turning his back against him. “No, Josh. I’m tired,” he mumbles, and Josh laughs softly. He gets up from the bed and sends a text to Fil.
“Bro… he’s moving in”
And Fil replies with a thumbs-up emoji.
Why is everybody downplaying me?
Josh sends a message to their GC. A photo of Pau on his bed, top off, sleeping like a baby.
Fil:
👍🏽
Josh:
I think I need a crib
Yves:
I can’t deal with this
Jah:
I don’t need to see this
Fil:
👍🏽
Josh:
He’s moving in
Yves:
OH MY GOD? WHEN? I’M CHOKING BUT WHEN
Jah:
My powers!!!!
Josh:
Not sure yet. We just talked about it earlier
Fil:
I’m not carrying his fridge over
Jah:
I’M SO HAPPY GOOD NIGHT
Yves:
Just let us know when, k? We can help u guys move just say so
Fil:
No
Josh:
Oh no you jealous bitch don’t worry you can still sleep on my couch
Fil:
Yuck? And hear all your fucking moans OHGOD NO
Josh takes another look at the photo he has taken, smiles to himself. He goes back to bed and lies beside Pau.
Pau feels his weight on the bed and turns to him, half-asleep. “Why are you smiling?”
“Nothing,” Josh says. “Hug me, please?”
Pau looks at him groggily and yawns. “Turn around,” he says, and wraps a hand around his waist. Josh leans back, and he feels Pau’s arms around him, wrapping him tighter. He has never felt so small, but he has also never felt this soft.
Him. With me. For me.
It feels so fucking good.
***
In the morning, Josh wakes up to Pau puckering up his neck with tiny, little kisses. He lets himself be tickled with the stubble beginning to grow out of Pau’s chin.
“Good morning, Jawline,” Pau greets under his breath, in between kisses. “Don’t tell me to stop, please.”
“Stop, Pau, it’s so early. We might never get out of bed,” Josh says, giggling.
“So?” Pau says, his lips now on Josh’s jawline.
“You’re crushing me,” Josh chuckles as he tries to get away from his grip.
“I can baby you too, Josh,” he says, pausing for a moment, inhaling Josh’s hair.
Josh finally gets out of his grip and turns to look at him. He grabs his crotch and presses on it.
Pau squeals. “Josh!”
Josh takes his hand from his crotch and laughs, his face staring at the ceiling. “1-0!”
“Why’d you take it away?” Pau says as he grabs Josh’s hand back to his crotch. It misses.
Josh pins him to the bed, and they tumble and roll, their endless giggles echoing throughout the room.
“Stop, we’re gonna fall!” Pau laughs, his hands pinned to the side, his head hanging on the edges of the bed.
“So? I’ll just fuck you on the floor,” Josh says as he runs a tongue between Pau’s chest.
Pau glances at the floor below them. “Fine. Carpet’s clean, right?”
They both laugh until Josh stops and finally gets up.
“God, come on, let’s get up. We have stuff to do today. You need to be able to walk.”
“Tonight, then?” Pau says, grinning with half his head still dangling over the edges of the bed.
Josh swoops in and scoops him up, peppers him with kisses. “That enough?”
“Never,” Pau says, and he gets up. Josh gets out of the room, and Pau hears the clanging of pans.
“Get up from there, Pretty. I’m cooking hotdogs,” Josh calls out from the kitchen.
“Your hotdog is what I want!” Pau screams from the bedroom.
Josh laughs and takes out an old frying pan. In a few more days, this will be replaced by a Teflon one.
Maybe printed with polka-dots, if that’s what he wants.
***
Pau moves in with Josh the next Sunday. He appears in front of Josh’s apartment like a mystical creature wearing another hoodie, denim shorts, and his favorite pair of Crocs, the color of orange so bright, it blinds Josh’s quiet morning. 4 large suitcases in tow, an eco bag with his Teflon pans, and various Pyrex jars and bowls. There’s more in the car, he says with a puff, and Josh, barely awake, opens the door wider so he can come in.
“I thought you said tomorrow?” Josh says, covering his naked chest, blinking away sleep.
Pau looks at him with soft eyes and a pout. Classic. “I can’t wait anymore.”
Josh smiles. “Come here, you.”
Pau walks slowly toward him, backpack still slung over his shoulders. “Is it okay?” he asks quietly.
Josh tiptoes and kisses the top of his head. “Of course, honey. Of course.”
Pau’s eyes widen. “Did you just call me ‘honey’?”
“You’ve got a problem with that?”
Pau grins giddily, his stare shifting to Josh’s bare chest.
“You’ve got a problem with this?” Josh smirks, puffing his chest out.
Pau swallows. “Just… help me… unload!”
“Unload?” Josh breaks into a loud laugh, seeing Pau blush and squirm in the middle of the room.
“Josh!”
“Fine. Let me put on a shirt first.”
“No,” Pau pouts again. “Let them all see.” He winks. “Mine. All mine.”
Josh laughs again. “Fine, honey. Yours. All yours. Now, did you shove your washing machine into your car? Because we might need to call Fil.”
Pau kisses him on the mouth. “No, honey. But if you want, you can just carry me.”
Josh finds himself smiling mid-kiss, and then Pau is clutching onto his hand, leading them out of the door.
***
They spend a good part of the morning unloading Pau’s stuff from his car. Josh finds himself both amused and amazed with every bag Pau takes out, some of them mundane, but all of them him, anyway. 2 guitars, a digital piano without a stand, a Keurig, a large wolf plushie. “What do you need that for? You’re almost 30 and you can just hug me anytime you please ”, he asks him, and Pau tells him, with a quiet smile, that the wolf plushie is a gift from a young fan from Taiwan. Josh feels himself melting, under the sun, under his gaze. My life is so soft again, he thinks. Him on my rug. Him with his plushie. He’s not just my sun, he’s also my moon. My thunder, my clouds, my typhoon.
Josh asks for a bit of a pause to take in their morning coffee. “Let’s try out your Keurig,” he tells Pau, and Pau sets it up on the counter like a grade schooler aiming to please with a serious Science experiment.
Josh stands to fix both of them a sandwich. Pau waits in front of the Keurig, but moves closer to Josh to watch him layer slices of cheese, tomatoes, onions, and pickles. The whole sequence of it puts him in a trance— Josh’s steady hands on the knife, his slim fingers arranging the items on wheat bread, the pursing of his lips as he tries to put all of the stuff so that nothing is amiss, and everything is lined up.
“What?” Josh asks, a hand slicing the sandwich in half.
“Why do you have three different types of cheese, Joshie?” Pau asks innocently, like he’s both amazed and surprised.
“I think about things in triples, mostly. I thought you knew that about me?” Josh says, squeezing mayo on the sandwiches.
Pau stands there just staring at him, hanging on his every word.
Josh continues. “First, just to try. Second, to see if I like it. Third, is what I finally decide.” He smiles.
“Did you also… think about me… thrice?” Pau whispers.
Josh pauses for a bit, dropping the mayo bottle to the side. “Well… yeah, thrice. But for every second. For the last ten years.”
The Keurig dings.
“Thank you, Josh,” Pau says softly.
“For?”
“For not thinking four times.”
Josh smiles. “I would think a million times if it means I get to have you. I love you, alright? You can underestimate me, but never underestimate that. Now… go get your fancy coffee. Let’s use your mugs.”
***
The boys notice the small things. Josh not smelling like his usual Chanel, but like Pau, who walks a few steps behind him. Pau’s inhaler inside Josh’s bag. Josh wearing purple socks. Josh carrying a huge ass lunch box to rehearsals. Pau eating sliced apples and a wrapped sandwich mid-meeting. “His sandwich’s got three cheeses, I think he has already moved in with him,” Yves tells Fil. Fil says he saw Pau give Jah a chocolate bar, the low-sugar one, with fibers, and Yves nods his head to say his hunch is confirmed. “That’s what whipped cream snacks on when he’s bulking up for the gym, right?” Fil asks, and Yves almost cries.
“When are you inviting us over? I have a plant to give you, guys,” Jah suddenly blurts during lunch some two weeks after Pau has moved in, sitting in the middle of the two.
Yves almost chokes on a carrot. Fil alternates his squinting glare between the two, and Pau lets out a soft chuckle.
“Ask him,” he says, pointing with his lips to Josh, whose cheeks have suddenly become as red as the table.
“I mean, you’re always welcome to come in anytime. Nothing’s changed, you guys,” Josh says softly.
“Oh, fuck you! I feel so betrayed right now!” Fil screams.
“Sorry, bro, you can’t sleep between us anymore,” Pau says with a chuckle.
“Well at least give us a schedule so we don’t walk in on you back hugging each other in the kitchen,” Yves adds, a wide smile on his face.
“Or fucking on the floor, oh my god! I gave you that rug, Josh!” Fil says with his hands covering his face.
Pau laughs even harder. “Oh, how do you know?”
“I’m happy for you two. Really. And also that Josh would finally have Teflon pans to use,” Yves says with a warm smile.
Josh’s blush even reddens. “Ves, it’s not the pans, it’s the chef.”
“I hope your home smells like English Pear and Freesia too,” Jah says, beaming, sniffing the air. “Jo Malone. Perfect. Like you two.”
The whole table smiles at that, and by dessert, Fil allows Josh a half-hug.
“I love you two, bro. No matter what. Even when now you wear Jo Malone like a total ass-hat.”
***
Josh stands in front of the sink, his back turned, fiddling with the soy sauce bottle. The kitchen’s dimly lit in the best way—lamplight over the sink, the golden glow from the hood light above the stove.
Pau is perched on the counter, legs swinging slightly, wearing Josh’s oversized shirt and holding a bell pepper like it’s an accessory.
Josh turns to Pau with an eyebrow raised. “Well, that bell pepper won’t slice itself, won’t it?”
“Come here so I can slice it on your jawline, honey.” Pau giggles.
Josh walks over, wedges himself between Pau’s knees, his hands finding his waist automatically.
“You’re useless around here, but also fucking cute.”
Pau laughs, his fingers curling into Josh’s hoodie. He leans in to give Josh a quick kiss on the lips.
“Yeah? You still let me come back, though.”
Josh leans away a bit, his hands still wrapped around Pau’s waist.
“Every version of you, I’d let come back.” He says softly.
“Even the messier ones?”
“Especially the messier ones.”
Pau leans in again to pepper Josh with quick, tiny kisses. “Now, please… continue to cook.”
Josh laughs. “You’ve got to help me, hon.”
“Okay. Tell me what to do.”
***
The chicken curry dinner revolved around simple conversations about which Netflix movies to watch next, which new lotion to get, and who’s gonna do the laundry the coming weekend. Josh says he will, and Pau has to fold it. Pau says he can’t fold as well as Josh, to which Josh promises he will teach him. Pau asks when they can have the boys over, and Josh tells him when he’s finally learned to heat the oven. The dinner gets cleared with both of them washing the dishes, and in between giggles and tickles that almost split Josh in two, they nestle in front of the TV under a fleece blanket Josh swears he never needed, but now he can’t imagine himself without. Like this pretty boy who has his hair covering half of his face.
“I can’t breathe, hon. Your hair’s all over my face. You always grow it long when you’re happy, don’t you?” Josh says, running his fingers softly through Pau’s hair, his voice muffled and amused.
Pau adjusts his head a bit, draping his legs lazily over Josh’s.
“How do you do it, Josh?” Pau asks quietly.
Josh kisses his hair. “What do you mean?”
“Look at me like I’m still something. Love me still like I didn’t always hurt you.”
Josh cups his chin. “I loved you when we had nothing. When we couldn’t afford conditioner and your hair was so ugly. When we had to sleep on the floor and then share one shitty mic. So no, I don’t understand what you’re asking me, pretty.”
“Your hair was ugly too, Josh. And your sneakers were always fake Balenciagas.”
Josh laughs. “Didn’t you use to say my feet looked hot in those?”
“I said that because you were my crush,” Pau says with a pout.
Pau rolls so he’s now facing Josh, his hands under his chin, planted on Josh’s chest.
“What if this is it, Josh?” he says softly.
“This… being?”
“This… us… chicken curry. Laundry fights. Grocery shopping. Nothing big… just this.”
“This is everything to me, Paulo.”
Pau looks up at him, eyes glassy in the soft light.
“I used to think I needed to keep chasing something to feel alive.”
“And now?”
Pau shifts closer, burying his nose in Josh’s neck. “Now I just need this. You. Us being boring together,” he whispers.
Josh closes his eyes, holding him tighter.
“Are you happy, Pau? Do I make you happy?”
“My hair’s so long now it suffocates you. What do you think, Joshie?”
“Does Balenciaga sell conditioner?”
They both laugh.
They fall into a gentle quiet afterwards, before Pau reaches up, running his finger along Josh’s jaw.
“There’s another thing, Josh,” he says quietly.
“What is it, hon?”
Pau looks down and starts fiddling with his fingers.
“Do you think… do you think we could… meet with Marni? Together?”
Josh blinks, a bit surprised. First, it’s her Pyrex that’s sitting on his kitchen, and now Pau says she needs to be here too. His gaze sharpens a bit, not out of anger, but a complicated weight. Perhaps jealousy he wouldn’t readily admit, but would say it’s with care.
“Are you sure, honey?” he asks softly.
Pau catches the softness in Josh’s voice, coming with an edge he only knows so well. He latches his fingers onto his, nodding slowly. “Yeah... I think it’s… time. I owe her that. I owe you that, Josh. She... she loved me through so much I didn’t even understand yet. I just—”
He exhales. His eyes drift to Josh, clear and earnest.
“I want to stop pretending none of that mattered. And I want a clean slate… with you.”
Josh studies him in the dark. His quiet voice, shaking but filled with something else. Courage. In the way his breathing shifts, in the way he’s stopped fiddling with his thumbs when he finally says what he says about the clean slates.
“Okay, honey. Whatever you need. Whatever for you.”
Pau exhales, like he’s been holding it in for so long. “Honey, you need it too. So this is not just for me, but for us two.”
Josh kisses the top of his head. A bit scared, but proud.
“Okay. Tell me what to do.”
“We’re a ‘ We’ now again, Joshie. One, but also two.”
Chapter 20: Water and Wine
Summary:
Three chairs, three hearts, three ghosts.
Sometimes healing tastes like water. Sometimes it tastes like wine.Sometimes it tastes like both, but love has a way of spilling— even when the table is set just right.
Notes:
I'm on X if you want to engage: @luna_in_limbo :)))
Chapter Text
🎧 FOR THE MOOD:
HEART OF THE MATTER - India.Arie
💿 FULL MIXTAPE:
“I texted her, honey,” Pau tells Josh from the couch.
Josh just got out of the shower, his hair still wet, a towel draped over his shoulders.
“What did you say?” he asks tentatively, that quiet pain in his chest returning again.
“Here,” Pau answers, skipping towards where Josh is. He hands Josh his phone, and Josh almost snatches it out of his hands a little too fast.
Pau:
“Hey... would you maybe want to have dinner? With me and Josh? Our place. If you’re okay.”
Marni:
“Hello to you too. You and Josh? Your apartment u say?”
Pau:
“Ya, our”
Marni:
“Wow. That’s so.. nice Pau. Sure, sure. When?”
Pau:
“Thank you 😊 I will ask Josh and let u know, ok? See you soon”
Marni:
“Any requests for what I can bring?”
Pau:
“Maybe another Pyrex Lol”
Marni:
“Hahaha Josh will make sure you have the nicest ones”
Josh reads through everything, then hands the phone quietly to Pau. He turns to go back to the bedroom without saying a word, and Pau follows him with a confused look.
“Josh? Hey… hey…” he says softly.
Josh sits at the edge of the bed, towel back to his shoulders. Pau sits down beside him, hearing his deep breaths.
“It’s not just Pyrex, you know,” Josh scoffs.
Pau reaches for Josh’s hand, sandwiching it between his. “What is it, honey? I’m here. Please tell me.”
Josh softens a bit and plays with Pau’s fingers. “Her bowls remind me of… the years you weren’t mine.”
Pau crinkles his nose and smiles. “You can get me a new bowl. Prada.”
“Paulo…” Josh trails, taking his hands away from Pau’s grip.
Pau exhales. “If I thought in threes like you, it would all just be… Josh, Josh, Josh.”
Josh sulks, a pout forming on his lips. Pau leans in to give him quick kisses.
“Josh, Josh, Josh,” he mutters in between pecks. “We need to do this, honey. You know that, right? You… and I. Side by side.”
“Look at you giving the assurances now,” Josh says quietly, his head bowed down.
“Josh… I know that… there were a lot of years for us that could’ve been better. When you know, we were just… always hurting each other. But this time, I hope… that when I hurt you… You let me know. And if you hurt me… I’ll let you know, too. So this… this dinner with her… if you’re not ready for it, don’t just say yes to me. I know… that I can be a handful. That I’m dramatic and annoying and that I can’t cook for shit, or fold our shirts as nice as you. But I’m ready, honey. For you. Because all I want is you.”
Josh’s face tightens, his chin trembling like quiet tremors. He turns his head a little, but Pau catches it. One hot tear slipped down Josh’s cheek, like an angel caught stealing cookies.
Josh swallows, trying to keep it all in, but when he speaks, his voice breaks. “Well, you’re really making it hard to say no to you. But thank you, honey. That I didn’t have to wait twenty years for you to say that. I mean… I probably would have still waited, but you know…” and he finally smiles through the tears.
“Yuck. Look at you. Crying over Pyrex. Nipples all showing.” Pau teases, as he flicks Josh’s nose with his pinkie finger.
Josh leans in to kiss him on the cheek. “Tell her we’ll have dinner this Saturday. I’ll pick her up.”
Pau raises an eyebrow. “Why are you picking her up? She can drive herself?”
“Right… I mean, I can also fall in love with her. Pretty. Smells nice. She also probably doesn’t burn rice.” Josh laughs.
“Josh. I will throw that Pyrex at her face. Put on a shirt, will you? You’ll end up with a cold again. I’m not hugging you.”
***
It’s 4:30 pm when Josh reaches Marni’s door. He sits in the car, honking twice. It’s a quiet Saturday afternoon with little traffic— the weekend crowd probably huddled at home while a gentle drizzle splashes the world outside.
Josh sees Marni coming out of her apartment, and he rushes to get down the car to open the door. Marni half-runs in the gentle rain, wearing a dress in a muted color made of soft fabric, maybe tulle or chiffon, Josh thinks. Josh catches a small pair of stud diamond earrings on her lobes when she reaches in to give him a quick peck on the cheek.
“Hi, Josh. Sorry, have you been here long?” she says as she slides into the car.
“No, not really. It’s okay. Hi! You look really nice,” Josh says with a small smile. He closes the car door and gets back to the driver’s side, sliding in.
“Thanks, Josh. I always do,” Marni smiles back.
Josh laughs under his breath. He smells something expensive in the air, something floral and faint. European flowers, maybe peonies or carnations, and he thinks he finally understands why Pau gravitated to her in the first place. A small pang forms in his chest, drifting, but he pushes through and continues to talk with her.
“You smell really nice, too,” he says, against his better judgment, but meaning it anyway.
Marni smiles again, looking out the window. “Chloe. Blends nice with the rain, doesn’t it?”
Josh feels a little jealous of her casual poetry. In this regard, Pau was right. Only a stupid man would pass on a chance to be with a woman like her. Soft, casual, firm, steady. And really very pretty too. Dignified in a way that she doesn’t even seem to need to try. Josh scoffs to himself.
They drive in silence when Josh’s phone rings. It’s Pau.
Josh glances at Marni, and Marni nods at him, as if saying, Go on, take it. It’s okay. Josh presses the monitor on his dashboard to accept the call, Pau’s soft voice in the speakers flooding the car.
Pau:
“Honey. Is she with you already?”
A small smile forms on Marni’s face.
Honey?
Josh feels himself redden a bit, like a husband being caught not knowing what shampoo his wife uses.
Josh:
“Yeah, she’s here with me. We’re near, okay? No traffic.”
Marni:
“Hi, Pau! See you in a bit.”
Pau:
“Hi…”
Josh:
“Won’t be long now, okay?”
Pau:
Okay, seatbelt?
Josh:
“Of course, hon.”
Marni feels like she’s a stranger softly intruding. She turns her glance back to the road outside.
Pau:
“Be careful, roads are wet. I love you.”
Josh almost put his foot on the breaks.
Josh:
“I love you too.”
He mumbles under his breath, so quietly, hoping Marni wouldn’t hear.
Pau:
“What? I didn’t hear you.”
Josh:
“I love you too, honey. Got to go. We’ve got to drive Marni safe, right?”
Marni:
“Bye, Pau.”
Pau:
“Bye, Marni.”
The call drops, and Josh glances again at Marni. “Sorry about that,” he says softly. “He always worries. You know…”
Marni catches the hesitation in his voice. “He sounds happy, Josh.”
Josh smiles. “Easier for the world when he is, isn’t it?”
Marni lets out a soft chuckle. “You’ve got any ideas what this dinner is about?”
“I have a few guesses.”
Marni nods. “You didn’t talk him into it?”
Josh shakes his head. “No. He said he wanted to. I just said I’d be there.”
Marni nods again. She looks out the window, watches the trees lining up the road pass them.
“I never hated you, you know.” She says softly.
They stop at a light, and Josh turns to her direction, both his hands still on the wheel. “I’m sorry, Marni.”
Josh notices her flustering a little bit. Marni fiddles with her thumbs. “There’s no competition, Josh. I told you it has always been you. For him. I knew that for a very long time, even then.”
Josh exhales.
“Way before that night when he was gone, in Taipei, and I called you. And you pretended you didn’t know where he was,” Marni laughs softly. Josh reddens again and smiles. The light turns green, and he continues to drive.
“I think I hated that you were right when you said he’d come back. But not you.” She continues.
“He’s trying now, Marni,” Josh says as he pulls into the curb in front of their apartment.
“He always tries, Josh. But he only ever gets it right when it’s you.”
Josh nods, but his throat feels tight. He kills the engine. “You ready? We’re here.”
They both smile.
***
The doorbell dings just as Pau adjusts the plate setting for the third time, muttering under his breath. The table is modest but lovingly set, filled with Josh’s cooking, which he prepared before he set off to pick up Marni. A bottle of red wine sits on the counter, breathing quietly in between three wine glasses. Pau freezes for a bit, and then he lights up the tea candles in the middle of the table before he sprints to open the door.
Josh comes in first, and Pau wraps a hand around his waist, kissing him softly on the cheek.
Marni, standing behind Josh, catches the interaction and smiles.
“How was the drive, honey?” he whispers.
Marni comes into full view. “Hi, Pau.”
Pau manages a small, nervous smile. Josh catches his hand on his waist and presses it firmly.
“Hi… please… come in. Welcome, welcome.”
Marni takes in the place quietly, like a small bird peering in on a window from outside. A beautiful chocolate rug in the living room, warm, tasteful lights hanging from the ceiling. A wolf plushie on the couch, most probably Pau’s, she thinks. The whole place smells like English Pear and Freesia. That’s definitely not Josh, but neither would it be Pau. But then again, what do I know, she thinks.
Pau adjusts the plates again, and Josh gently nudges him.
“She’s not grading you, honey.” He says softly.
“I… I just want her to feel… welcome.” He whispers back.
Marni reaches inside her bag and takes out a box, wrapped in a black bow.
“For you… two,” she says, smiling, as she offers the box to Josh. He wonders what could be inside, but Pau snatches the box from his hand before it has even settled.
“Thank you, Marni. Oh.. wow... This is Byredo, honey. A Byredo candle!” Pau says a bit too excitedly for Josh’s taste.
“For your candle collection,” Marni says.
Josh alternates his stares between Marni and Pau. Pau sets down the box on the counter, immediately taking out the box’s bow to check what’s inside. Marni catches Josh’s stare and nods with a small smile, as if saying this whirlwind’s all yours— I’m just visiting.
“Ohhhh… Bibliotheque! I don’t have this yet!” Pau squeals. “Let me light it first, okay?” and he’s goes to find a lighter.
Josh stares at his back, fading from his view. He returns his glance to Marni and pulls up a chair for her.
“Sorry,” he runs a hand through his hair. “Here, please sit. He’ll be back. Sorry, he got too excited.”
Pau returns to the table with his Byredo candle lit. He gently sets it in the middle, arranging the tea cup candles already lit around it.
“Perfect.” He says, quietly beaming. Josh tugs on his sleeve, motioning for him to sit. Pau clears his throat, taken out of his trance, and takes a seat. His hand immediately lands on Josh’s thigh under the table.
They start to eat, with Marni complimenting the food. Pau proudly says that it’s all Josh, and Marni jokes that it would’ve been a miracle if he were actually the one who prepared it.
The soft jazz music Pau put on earlier fills in the silences in between bites. Josh takes the lead, asking Marni about her work, old friends who belong to both their circles. Pau alternates his stares between Marni and Josh, like a toddler watching someone else’s parents talk.
“So you’re back in post-grad hell?” Josh asks, smiling.
“Yeah.. just two terms more! If I live long enough to tell the tale.”
“She always did the hard stuff better than me.” Pau slips before he can catch it, and the table sits still for a moment.
“Oh, I don’t know about that. Hard is different for everyone, right?” she says with a smile, her fork full of Pesto pasta. She sips on her wine.
“Yeah… and people deal with hard differently, too. I mean… some of us run from it. Some of us wait for it to pass,” Josh says, glancing softly at Pau.
Pau puts his fork down, catching Marni’s eyes. He looks at her intently, his shoulders squared, but fragile.
“I’m sorry, Marni.” He says in a quiet voice. Josh reaches for Pau’s hands under the table, and he squeezes them, like a gentle, steady force. Pau squeezes back firmly.
Marni’s eyes sparkle, catching the rays of the candle. “I know.” She says in the gentlest voice Josh has ever heard.
“I wasn’t fair to you. To him. To… myself.”
“You were lost, Pau,” Marni says.
“You didn’t deserve to be the one to find me when I… when I was… that.”
Marni nods, her eyes glistening slightly. Josh puts an arm around Pau’s shoulders.
“I loved you anyway. Because you were… are… worth that.”
Pau swallows. Josh runs his hand through the small of Pau’s back.
“You were too good to me, Marni. Too good. But you knew… it was always Josh.”
Josh clears his throat.
“I know. And Josh… will never be… too good for you. But he will always be too good… to you.”
Josh smiles in her direction, like a quiet acknowledgement. Marni smiles too.
“You hear that, honey? She will always be smarter than both of us,” Josh chuckles.
“Well, I kinda dated both of you… So that’s just my experience talking,” she says with a quiet laugh.
“I don’t envy you, Marni. What an experience, right?” Pau finally says.
They all laugh like a heavy weight has finally flown off their chests. They finish the wine bottle before Marni says she’s going. Josh asks if he needs her to drive her home, but Marni insists she would just book a car.
“Thank you. For… inviting me,” Marni says, adjusting the straps of her purse with a hand.
Pau reaches for her other hand across the table and squeezes it once. “Thank you... for coming. For everything.”
“I think I needed to see it… with my own eyes.”
“See what?” Josh asks.
Marni looks at the two of them, Pau’s bright eyes, Josh’s steady calm. She sighs.
“That he finally made it home, Josh.”
Pau exhales shakily, raising his head to the ceiling so his tears won’t drop. Josh trembles a bit and nods.
Marni wipes an errant tear on her cheek and smiles. She stands up, and both boys walk her to the door. Marni leans in to give Josh a tight hug, and Josh whispers into her hair, “I owe you so much.” Marni smiles at him and then turns to Pau. She hugs him too, this time lingering a little longer.
When their hug breaks, Pau’s eyes are red, his cheeks all puffy.
“Be good, pretty boy,” Marni says with a tearful smile.
“I will try,” Pau says, chuckling, still with the quiet tears in his eyes. He feels Josh’s hand wrap around his waist.
Marni leans in and gives Pau a quick kiss on the cheek. “You don’t run anymore when you’ve reached your finish line. Look at your medal, Pau. What a jawline.” She winks at him, and Pau smiles.
Marni’s car arrives, and she gets in. The boys wave at her from the door, Pau’s hand clutching Josh’s.
She exhales and wipes her eyes, then gives them a small wave back with a gentle smile.
Look how they shine.
***
Pau stands at the sink, rinsing the last of the glasses, his sleeves rolled up and hair tied up again in a rubber band. Josh moves quietly beside him, drying each one, placing them back in the cupboard. Neither of them has spoken after Marni left, and Josh glances at Pau now and then, trying to gauge his silence.
Pau exhales a shaky breath. It’s so quiet, but Josh hears it under the sound of the running water. He pauses and takes a sideways glance again at Pau.
His hands are still under the running water, but his shoulders start to slightly shake.
“Hey… honey… Are you okay?” Josh gently asks, turning off the faucet and taking a wine glass from Pau’s hands.
Pau turns away from the sink, pressing the back of his wrist to his face. Josh sees the tears streaming down his face like raindrops.
“I don’t know what’s wrong with me, Josh.” He sobs. Josh sets the towel down and walks closer to him. He pulls him into an embrace.
“I think it was good what happened. We were… good. We were… happy. I don’t know why I feel like this.”
Josh runs a hand through Pau’s hair. “Honey… It’s because your past was sitting on that table too.”
Pau continues to cry, his fat tears wetting Josh’s shoulder.
“It’s different, honey… talking to her like that. Seeing what you left behind. Who… you used to be,” Josh continues.
Pau’s lip trembles. He looks down. “Oh, honey… I was horrible… wasn’t I?
Josh exhales. “You heard what she said, Pau. You were lost.”
“Oh god… oh god… I broke her… I broke myself… I broke you…”
Josh feels his heart being torn apart by the way Pau sobs. Like it’s coming from a fountain he cannot reach. A fountain so deep, its depth is not on record.
“You did… honey, yeah, you did… but… you’re not that anymore, aren’t you?” Josh says gently, planting a kiss on top of Pau’s head.
“Josh… I don’t feel… like I’m fixed… and I’m… so scared… because I still… hate some parts of myself… and what if… you’ll hate them too?”
Josh leans in to cup Pau’s face, still buried in his shoulders. “Pau… I’ve seen all of you. And I’m still here. I will be here. Okay? I am here… and I will always be.”
“Honey… do I really… get to have… all of this?” Pau asks, his sobs reduced now to quiet tears.
Josh wipes away his face and adjusts his hair quietly. He kisses him on both eyes. “Yes, you do, honey. Yes. You do.”
They stay there in the quiet clink of the kitchen. Pau crying into Josh’s shirt, Josh just holding him, even when he feels like Pau’s hurt is splitting him in two.
Later in bed, Josh lies behind Pau, one arm securely wrapped around his waist. A thumb drawing lazy circles near his navel. Pau hasn’t said anything much since his crying in the kitchen, and Josh doesn’t pry but just lets him. Pau’s eyes are open, but he’s no longer crying. Josh feels like he’s not here with him. He’s so far away.
Every quiet exhale Pau makes feels like a sharp dagger to Josh’s chest. Every drop of his shoulder feels like a multiplied pain in the quiet of the room. Josh holds him tighter, hoping he can take some of it away.
“You don’t have to say anything, honey. Just breathe, okay? I’m here. I love you.” He whispers into the dark.
Pau closes his eyes. “You always say that. I love you.”
“Because it’s true,” Josh answers quietly. “I do love you.”
Pau lets out a shaky breath, his back still to Josh. “I feel… awful, Josh. I should be happy. I should be grateful. That I got everything back. That I got you back. But it hurts… so fucking much.”
Josh shifts slightly, just enough to rest his cheek against Pau’s shoulder.
“Honey… it hurts because… you’re rebuilding parts of yourself. But I’m here… I will be here to hold your hand while you do. I’m so… proud of you, you know?”
Pau turns slightly toward him. “But I hurt her, Josh. I hurt you. I never meant to… do that… be that… I’m just… was… fucked up. And even if… You tell me that I deserve you… that I deserve this… what we have… a part of me’s…”
Pau takes a sharp breath, then swallows. “…still that fucked up boy, Josh. I’m so scared. So scared I will lose you again.”
“You didn’t earn me, honey. I… gave myself to you. I told you… I will be here. I will see you through. I will see you… even when you don’t anymore. Especially when you don’t.”
Pau turns to him fully, searching his eyes. Josh kisses him gently on the lips, and Pau buries himself in Josh’s arms, falling asleep at last.
Josh wakes up in the morning with the sunlight filtering in softly through the curtains, the space beside him empty and cold. He squints, trying to listen to the sounds around, and he hears it— the faint clinking of a spoon to a mug.
He walks out of the bedroom and sees Pau staring out the window, still in his sleep shirt, mindlessly twirling his spoon into his mug, his back against him. His hair’s all matted and frizzy, and Josh instantly knows the heaviness didn’t lift overnight.
“Honey… you’re up early. You okay, love?” he says gently from behind.
Pau turns slightly to face him, offers a tiny smile. It doesn’t reach his eyes.
“Not really.” He says with a quiet smile.
Josh walks over and sits on the couch near him.
He’s not… here.
“Do you need anything, honey?” Josh offers quietly.
Pau lets out a sharp exhale and sits beside him on the couch.
“Actually… there’s one thing.”
“What is it? Tell me,” Josh says, one hand pushing away hair strands covering Pau’s face.
Pau looks down, his mug still in hand, coffee just sitting there. “Can I... can I stay in today? Alone?”
Josh tenses a bit, a slight confusion passing on his face.
“You want me to go, hon?” he asks.
“Not because I don’t want you here. It’s just that… I just… need to be with myself a bit, hon. Let my… feelings settle, or something...”
Josh studies him for a bit with a quiet worry flickering in his eyes. “Are you gonna be okay without me here? You sure?”
Pau smiles thinly. “Yeah. Thank you.”
Josh nods. “Okay. I’ve got meetings anyway. I should be back by 4 pm. Is that okay? Do you want me to come back… sooner? Later?”
Pau smiles again, touches the side of Josh’s face. “I’m sorry, honey.”
Josh finally stands and cups his face with both hands. His thumbs brush Pau’s cheekbones.
“Stop, hon. You don’t say sorry for needing space. I will always be back. Even when you don’t want me back. Okay?”
Both of them smile. Josh kisses Pau’s forehead.
“You’re not alone, okay? Even when I’m not here. I love you so much, honey. I love you.”
Josh prepares for the day ahead, leaving Pau still sitting quietly on the couch.
He grabs his keys from the doorway before heading out, taking one last glance at Pau before closing the door behind him.
Pau hears the lock click, and he watches the door for a long, long time.
Outside, the sun shines so brightly, draping everything else around it in shadows.
Chapter 21: Commas
Summary:
In the comma between "I love you" and "I'll text you", one stays, and one leaves.
But how long can a pause really last before it becomes the end of the sentence?
Notes:
I'm on X if you want to engage: @luna_in_limbo :)))
[[we're almost at the end now ohgod. who would have thought i was gonna see it through? not me, i'm telling you. lol
anyway, i'm flying to HK for the SAW Tour since it's Olbap's birthday (YEY), so we might not have the ending chapters posted this coming weekend uwuuu. maybe i'll write it in HK so it's got a diff flavor, who knows? or maybe i'll fly to Taipei after HK without a plan just like Josh. LMAO
thank you for sticking through!!!! means so much to me <3]]
Chapter Text
🎧 FOR THE MOOD:
ALL I GOT - Said the Sky, Kwesi
💿 FULL MIXTAPE:
Pau spends the next hours alternating between lying on the couch and looking out the window. By lunch, he drags himself to the kitchen to cook something, but when he opens the fridge, he sees Josh left asparagus wrapped in bacon for him to eat inside one of the microwaveable containers. On the container, a post-it in Josh’s dragging handwriting: “You always forget. I love you.”
Pau squints at the note, double-checking if it’s a period or a comma in between. He sighs, carefully removing the post-it, and then goes on to stick it on the fridge. Thinks this way it might help him remember. This way it latches on something smooth, something sturdy. He looks at it a few seconds longer, and then heats the container in the microwave.
In the HQ, Josh’s phone alarms when the clock struck 12. Lunch, he thinks to himself, and he almost calls Pau to ask him if he’s eaten, or at least to remind him to, that there’s a container inside the fridge he’s made—his favorite. He stops himself from pressing the speed dial. If Pau says he needs to be alone for a bit, then sure. But he can’t stop himself from worrying.
Jah sits beside him on the couch, catches him staring at his phone. Jah, of course, asks where Pau is, and Josh doesn’t want to lie, but he doesn’t want Jah to worry, too. Jah catches his hesitation and instead says to just tell him Pau’s okay, and he does. Because it’s true, isn’t it, is what he wants to believe. But every second that passes without him in the apartment makes him want to bolt out the door, drive fast to Pau, tell him It’s okay, whatever it is, I love you, I love you, I love you.
Jah leans his head on his shoulders, not saying a word. Josh exhales and whispers, “Thank you.”
Back in the apartment, Pau sits on the kitchen counter with his bacon and asparagus. Eating with his bare hands, he savors every bite, marveling how something so simple and easy can taste so perfect, so full. He remembers one interview where Josh was asked to describe his personal style, and he answered elevated, like it’s the most natural thing in the world, but perhaps because it was also very true. And when the mic was passed on to him, he wanted to say something as cool— as profound — but he ended up saying normcore. The audience laughed, but not Josh. It meant so much to Pau at 21. It still means the world to him at 29. It will still mean the world to him when he’s 99, when everything else has crumbled and gone.
Josh says he didn’t earn him, that he gave himself to him. It sounds so good, so Josh. But what if he knew everything, every single detail, the worst things I have ever done? Will his words remain true? Pau thinks Josh deserves to know, and that if he leaves for good after hearing everything, he hopes to hear at least one last real ‘I love you’.
Pau brings the dirty container to the sink, washing it thrice. He sees his mismatched mugs in the cupboard, next to Josh’s white and sparkling ones, and for a moment, he thinks of packing his bags.
Josh sits in the meeting, feeling his watch heavy on his wrist. Every so often, he stares at its dial, wiping its face, as if it will shorten the minutes. Fil nudges him to pay attention, kicking his foot under the table. Josh turns to him with a blank stare, his lips parted slightly. Fil raises an eyebrow at him, and when the meeting pauses for a break, Fil asks him if everything’s okay. Josh almost breaks at the word — everything — 3 syllables so simple it could shatter his whole world. Instead, he puts a hand on his nape, lowering his head, and he hears Fil say, “I got you, bro”. He nods, even when Fil’s voice sounds to him like a distant echo from the underworld.
Yra approaches Josh, sitting alone in the boardroom, while the others go out for a break. He tells Josh that he can go, that Fil said he has something important to attend to, much more important than choosing fabrics for their next stage outfits. “Problems at home?” Yra asks, and Josh smiles, reaching his eyes, but they’re sad.
Yra loops an arm around Josh’s shoulder. “That is… fucking important, indeed. Just go, Josh.”
Josh gratefully nods, and in seconds, he has his bag slung over his shoulders, already starting for the door. He rushes to his car and pulls up his phone to send a text before starting the engine.
“Honey. We’re done. Okay for me to come home?”
The cursor on the screen blinks at him, and the next few seconds feel like an eternity he’s got to live twice. He looks out the window, chest heaving, until he hears the familiar dinging sound.
“Okay, hon. Take care. I love you. Very much.”
Josh has never started his car so fast.
***
Pau sits on the couch beside his wolf plushie, biting his nails, waiting for the sound of Josh’s car backing into the lot. The clock says 5 pm, which means any moment now, the lock would click, and the door would swing open. Wide enough for him to be thrown out with his fancy pans and bowls. Or wide enough for both of them to be swallowed whole.
He hears Josh’s car finally pull up in the lot, and he stands up to check himself in the mirror by the doorway. He ties his hair up in a neat ponytail and stands by the door, the beating in his chest seemingly louder than the earth roaring at its core.
The lock finally clicks, and Pau feels himself wobble. Josh comes in, eyes looking a bit tired and heavy, and Pau instantly latches on to him.
“Hi, honey. So pretty with that ponytail,” Josh says with a small smile, then kisses him on the cheek.
“You’re back early, but you look tired. How was your day?” Pau asks, taking Josh’s bag from him and setting it gently on the floor.
“My day, hon? I spent my whole day just thinking of you.” Josh answers, still smiling, making his way to the couch to take off his boots.
Pau feels his heart in his throat, a silent fear creeping in on him, the type he has never felt in such a long time. He walks over to the couch to sit beside Josh, starting to bite his nails again.
Josh extends his hand to gently stop him. “Hey… you’ll ruin your nails again. What’s up, honey? Are you okay?”
Pau closes his eyes and lets out a sharp exhale before he speaks. “No.”
Josh immediately puts a hand on his thigh.
“Can we talk?” Pau asks quietly.
“Of course, honey. Of course,” Josh answers as he starts to unbutton his shirt.
Pau stifles a chuckle. “What are you taking your shirt off for?”
“Because I don’t want you to wait to say what it is that’s bothering you.” Josh smiles. “Okay, hon. Go. What is it?”
Pau stands up to get water from the kitchen. He comes back with 2 glasses, settling one in front of Josh on the coffee table. The other one, he gulps in one swoop.
“Josh… first of all, I want you to know that I really, really love you.”
“Okay? I love you too?” Josh says, then takes a gulp of water from the glass.
“But I don’t think I’ve ever told you… all that happened in Taiwan.”
Josh sets down the glass on the table gently. He clears his throat and then looks up to Pau slowly, the drumming in his chest getting louder by the second. His expression shifts, but he doesn’t say anything.
So this is what he wants to talk about.
Josh nods, and Pau takes it as a cue to continue.
“Josh… I wasn’t just… meeting with people. I didn’t just… have a hard time. I lost it. I totally spiraled.”
Pau’s voice wavers, but he continues. Josh looks at him with full attention.
“I fucked around. With men… With women... It didn’t matter who. Just as long as they could let me… forget myself for a little while. I drank too much. Way too much. Sometimes… I would wake up in the gutter. Sometimes… I would open up the bar. I went home with people I didn’t… even know. I never asked for their names. And when they asked me… I always gave new names… different ones… I don’t know, Josh… I was hoping that maybe… a new name would make me… someone else. It’s so stupid… but I just felt so… fucking empty… and that I deserved it. To… feel… just that.”
Josh shakes his head a bit, holding a hand to his mouth. Pau keeps going, like a dam that’s been unleashed.
“I never chose which bed I would go into… I never cared wherever it was I fucked or got fucked… they were just arms to me, limbs… necks… dicks… pussy. Sometimes they hurt me. Most times… I hurt them back, too. I’ll wake up on random floors with my boxers off and my shoes on. With bruises… sweat of people I did not give a shit about. And I’m not proud of any of this… Josh… I wasn’t thinking then. When I was… I was just… always thinking of you.”
Josh leans back on the couch, covering his face with both hands. He almost wants to stop Pau from talking; every word coming out of his mouth makes him want to just shatter.
“There was a man… Josh, I met him at an arcade… He was older than me… than us. We were fucking… and then… I just burst out crying in his arms. He was kind to me… but I didn’t know what to do with that. In the morning… I just left… like I always do. That perfume you saw on my sink in Taipei… the Jasmine one… I got it on the way home after that man… I wanted to… lean in on it, Josh… a new me… just sex and destruction… fucking broken and nothing else.”
“I was so lonely, honey. So angry. That I… all of the years that passed by… the lives we have lived… how I loved you so much and how we could just… not… share that so openly with everyone. I was thinking… that’s the realest thing in my life… and nobody gave a damn… all the shiny clothes… the money… the fame… I never wanted to be a leader, you know… never cared about any of that… I just wanted you.”
Josh doesn’t speak. He stares at the floor, jaw tight, chest rising with every shallow breath.
“When I called you… asked you if you’re gonna come and find me… Josh, if you didn’t pick up… if you never came… I would have disappeared. Beyond saving, honey…”
“How many people?” Josh asks, the words gnashing against his teeth.
“We weren’t together, Josh.”
“How many people?”
Pau pauses for a bit. “I don’t know, Josh. Ten? Twenty?”
A long silence fills the room.
“Did you think of me?”
“Yes.” Pau feels the tears finally streaming down his face.
“Did you feel guilty?”
“Every single time.”
Josh’s lips part, then close again. He grips the edge of the couch cushion like he needs to hold onto something.
“Why are you telling me this?” he asks, his voice cracking.
“Because I want to be honest. Because I love you too much to lie to you again. Because if you’re going to stay… I need you to know what you’re staying for. Who you’re… staying for. You deserve that, Josh… and so much more.”
Josh’s eyes turn glassy, and he turns away to hide the tears streaming down his face, too. Suddenly, his shoulders heave, and he breaks down. Every sob from him feels like a thorn in Pau’s chest.
“Do you even understand how much I love you? How long I’ve waited?”
Pau kneels in front of him. His hands tremble as he reaches for Josh’s.
“I do now, honey. I do. When you tell me you love me, I believe you. I know you do. And I love you too. And I’m so sorry that I keep on hurting you. But I’m here… this is me, Josh… all of me… all for you.”
Josh looks at him, his eyes red, his voice hoarse.
“I don’t know what to do with this, Pau. I don’t know… how to carry all of it.”
“Josh… I hope that you allow me a chance to… carry all of this with you. But… I won’t beg you to stay. I just want you to choose… knowing everything. Knowing… me.”
Josh wipes his eyes. He cups Pau’s face and plants a gentle kiss on his forehead.
“I hate… that you hurt yourself like that. I hate it.”
“I’m sorry, honey. I really am.”
“I may need some time… Paulo,” Josh says quietly.
“I’ll wait, Josh. As long as it takes. I’ll be here.”
Josh smiles thinly and gets up from the couch. He reaches for Pau’s hands to get him up from kneeling on the floor.
“Thank you, Pau. For telling me. I l-lo—”
Josh trails. He takes one more glance at Pau and continues. “I need a shower, hon. Dinner too.” Josh walks over to the bedroom, leaving Pau inching to hear the end of the syllables he left trailing off.
One last real I love you.
***
Their bed that night could have been an ocean. They slept next to each other with their backs turned, each one seemingly searching for the shore. One turns and another looks away, like waves crashing but never meeting, silent and quiet under the night moon.
Neither of them slept well or at all, and in the morning, Pau wakes up to an empty space beside him. Josh’s pillow was neatly tucked, and the sheets he slept in were smoothed like he was never there. Like it was all just a hazy dream looping around Pau’s head.
He gets up slowly, trying to listen for any sounds, any marker, that he’s still here. That he’s still choosing him. That he will still accept him, like he always did. A sharp pain begins to crawl all over his chest. A gnawing worry in his head mocking him, You ruin everything you touch. Even your everything.
He tiptoes to the bathroom, afraid to make a sound. Afraid to have it real. Afraid to have to accept that he’s gone.
He goes out to the kitchen and sees Josh, sitting so quietly at the kitchen counter, a mug almost forgotten in his hands. Like he’s already halfway gone. A ghost with Pau’s heart in his hands.
“Hi,” Pau says quietly from behind.
“Hi,” Josh answers, his back still turned.
Pau walks up to the counter, and he almost wraps his arms around Josh. He brushes the small of his back passingly, and it feels hard and cold.
He stands in front of him across the counter, wanting to hold his hands. Josh puts his hand under his chin and offers him a thin smile.
Pau catches the melancholy in his eyes, something he has never seen in Josh for quite some time. He prepares himself for what he might say next, but if he’s being honest, he hopes he’s just going to ask him what he wants for breakfast. Or if he folded the laundry how he taught him. If they still have toothpaste, and which hoodie they will wear to do the groceries. Something mundane that doesn’t have anything to do with Josh not choosing him. Anything else but Josh saying he’s leaving.
Josh opens his mouth, and Pau grips the edges of the counter hard, hoping his fingers can hold on so tight it becomes his crutch. The world seems to slow down, but inside, his chest is beating fast.
“Pau, I think… I need to… leave for a bit,” Josh finally says, his eyes looking down.
Pau blinks, the weight of every flutter of his eyelids almost sinking him on the spot he’s standing at.
“Leave?” he asks softly.
Josh exhales, then nods.
“Just for a little while. I need… some space. To think it over. To sort things out in my head without being in this apartment. Without looking at you and feeling everything at once.”
Pau swallows a quiet sob forming in his throat. He nods, trying to be brave, but his knees wobble.
“For how long?”
“I don’t know. I’m not sure yet,” Josh shrugs gently.
“Do you hate me, Josh?” Pau asks quietly.
“I’m not leaving because I stopped loving you. I’m leaving because I still do. And I still want to.”
Pau heaves a bit, nods slowly. He touches his nose.
“Which bag?”
Josh raises an eyebrow at him, confused. “What?”
“Which bag do you wanna take?”
Josh sighs, but he doesn’t answer. He watches Pau wipe his hand with a paper towel, then moves past him towards the hallway to the bedroom. When he returns, he has Josh’s black weekender bag in one hand and a bunch of clothes in the other. It’s the bag that Josh always uses for short trips. The one that Pau has seen him pack a dozen times.
Josh continues to watch in silence as Pau carefully folds his clothes the way he’s asked him to teach him how. His long fingers deftly smoothing out the creases of an old favorite shirt, like it’s made of satin. Like it will break if he tugs hard enough.
“You don’t have to do that.” He says softly, the heaviness in his chest almost overpowering.
Pau doesn’t stop, moving through the motions. Josh looks at the items he’s putting inside the bag, and he almost wants to forget he wants to leave. An old and soft grey hoodie he sleeps in when he’s away. Sweatpants. Shirts. The soft purple socks.
“I know. I’m just… here you go,” Pau says as he zips up the bag and gently sets it on the floor. “Just want you to be comfortable. Wherever you go.”
Josh’s throat tightens. “Pau…”
“Yup, Josh. All set. Your flosses are in the side pocket.” He nods, offering him a thin smile, pausing a bit to wipe a tear falling from his eyes.
“Pau… I just need to know if I can come back and… still be okay. With everything. With us.”
Pau’s lips tremble, but he nods again. “I’ll be here. I love you.”
Josh steps forward, closes the space just long enough to touch Pau’s face. His thumb brushes lightly under one eye, wiping away the errant tear.
“I’ll text you.”
“Will you say you love me back?” Pau whispers.
Josh just smiles. “Go back to sleep. It’s still so early.”
Pau stares down at the floor, his tears now flowing steadily. “Okay. Just lock the door when you leave.”
He takes one last look at Josh and starts to walk toward the bedroom, softly closing the door behind him.
Josh looks at the door, half-wishing it would open again. Half-wishing Pau will run towards him with open arms, telling him, “Don’t go, don’t leave.” Instead, the black weekender bag sits heavily on the couch. Quiet, but necessary.
An hour later, Pau hears the soft clicking of the apartment’s door lock under the covers.
Josh is gone.
Pau presses the heel of his hand to his mouth, trying to hold it in, but a sob slips out anyway.
Before he knows it, his chest heaves, and his shoulders shake under the covers.
He cries the way he used to as a kid, when he thought no one could hear. Deep, ugly sobs that scrape their way out of him. He gasps for air and lifts the blanket so only his head is showing, but the air lingers with a faint scent of Josh’s perfume.
How can he be gone if he’s still here?
Where will he go?
Where will I be?
He cries until his hands start to tingle. Until his throat aches. Until he’s not even sure what hurts more—the fear, or the memory of Josh brushing a thumb under his eye just before he left.
Gone. Just like that.
Eventually, the sobs dull into little hiccups. His face is flushed and blotchy. His shirt is damp.
Pau curls up under the covers again. He stays hidden there, numb and empty, until the first rays of the morning light.
***
Five days have passed since Josh left, and Pau moves around in autopilot. He goes to the office, signs papers, attends meetings, like he’s expected to. He eats when he remembers, never a full meal, because all he can remember is how nothing lives up to Josh’s cooking. He spends nights curled up in front of the TV, clutching on to his wolf plushie in the dark. Five days and nights he’s been waiting for Josh to text, like he said he would. Every time his phone dings and it’s not him, he almost chokes. He sleeps on the couch, never in their bed. The memory of Josh’s warm body on the empty space beside him is like an imprint that’s too much for him to bear.
The staff talk about it in hushed and careful voices. How Josh never told anyone where he was going, even Yra. Just that he’ll be gone for some time. That he’ll be okay. That he can be reached through texts for really important matters. How Pau shows up at the office with his sunglasses on indoors. Always holding a cup of takeout coffee he never sips on. How his once beautiful hair has seemed to dry up at the edges overnight. Always under a black cap. Always messily tied up with a random rubber band. Like an anomaly. An afterthought.
One Saturday afternoon, he came in eighteen minutes late to a concept meeting with the team. In a hoodie, Prada pants, and then… black, ugly Crocs. Fil shakes his head at Yves, worried. This is the most red flag he’s ever been, he tells him, “rubber bands and rubber clogs, are you kidding me?”, filling Yves’ round eyes with palpable worry.
Everyone tiptoes around him with concern, but no one dares to ask what happened. He tells everyone he’s fine, but the sound engineer has stories of Pau entering the recording studio looking like a porcelain version of himself. He reports that Pau kept on playing the same piano instrumental loop twenty-three times without saying a word.
Later that night, Fil sends him a text.
Fil:
“How u holding up, bro?”
Pau:
“No one’s holding me”
Fil:
“I don’t mean to pry, Pau. But what happened? Where’d Jawline go?”
Pau:
“I don’t know”
Fil lets out an exhale and pauses to take a screenshot of the conversation. He sends it to Yves before he replies.
Fil:
“Have u eaten yet”
Pau:
“I don’t know”
Fil:
“Want us to come over?”
Pau:
“I don’t know”
Fil crinkles his nose. He calls Yves.
Fil:
“Yoo. Where are you? Did you see the screenshot I sent?”
Yves scrolls his messages to pull it out.
Yves:
“Just did. Oh my god, this is bad, bad.”
Fil:
“This not my area, Ves. What do we do?”
Yves:
“Well, have you spoken to Josh?”
Fil:
“Nah.”
Yves:
“Don’t lie to me.”
Fil:
“No, Ves. I swear.”
Yves:
“Ask Pau where he is. Don’t end the call.”
Fil:
“Ves, he might hit me with another ‘I don’t know.’”
Yves hisses from the other line.
Yves:
“Just try!”
Fil takes off the phone from his ear and sends a message to Pau.
Fil:
“Where are u bro? Home?”
Pau:
“Where else ☹️”
Fil crinkles his nose again.
Fil:
“Yuck, Ves. He said he’s home but yuck, he’s using emojis. Damn, what happened to him? Fucking Josh.”
Yves:
“Well, he’s sad, what do you expect. Get dressed then pick me up. Let’s go visit him.”
Fil:
“How many times do we cook rice for heartbroken, sad boys, Yves?”
Fil groans, but he’s already putting his belt back on.
Yves:
“Oh my god, stop whining! You’ll have your time. Move faster. I’m calling Jah. We’ll have to pick him up, too.”
Fil:
“That a good idea, Ves? Jah will collapse on his floor, and then we’ll have more heartbroken sad boys.”
Yves:
“Pau loves Jah the most. At best, it rivals Josh.”
***
The boys drive in Fil’s car in silence. Jah sits in the back seat, holding a small chamomile plant in a green pot.
Yves turns to him, sitting on the passenger seat beside Fil.
“What’s that plant called, Jah?” he asks sweetly.
“Chamomile,” Jah answers with a calm smile.
“That edible?” Fil snorts.
“It will calm him.”
“He can’t even take care of himself right now, Jah,” Yves says with a quiet worry.
“His birthday is coming soon. This is a gift for him too,” Jah remarks softly, like a prophet who’s seen the end and lived through it.
Yves and Fil look at each other.
“Oh god. Right. We forgot!” Yves shrieks.
“How can Jawline be so fucking heartless?” Fil snipes.
“I’m okay,” Jah says, even if nobody asked.
Fil pulls the car into the lot.
***
Yves rings the doorbell, and Pau opens the door in a hoodie that might actually belong to Josh, judging by the way he keeps absentmindedly tugging at the sleeves. He looks at them both, confused and surprised.
He opens his mouth to say something, but Jah comes into view from behind Fil, shyly handing over the chamomile plant to him with both hands. His heart warms for a bit.
“Oh, come here, you. Jah… Chamomile! Thank you. I love you.” Pau gushes over the plant like he’s being given a puppy. He opens his arms wide, and Jah immediately runs towards him to give him a hug.
Jah latches on to him as Pau turns to both Fil and Yves, who are sharing looks like “I told you so, he loves him”, and asks, “What are you doing here? Did I forget… we have a dinner… or something?”
“Your hair is so dry, pretty boy. Been five days, and you come to meetings wearing ugly Crocs. Let’s feed you,” Fil says as he bolts through the open door, breezing past him, holding takeout bags in both hands.
“No, Pau, you did not forget anything. Except maybe to eat. No more avoiding us, okay?” Yves says with a small smile, and he nudges Pau with a hand on his back to get inside.
Pau stands near the hallway as the boys busy themselves setting up, spreading the takeout containers across the table. Burgers, fries, spicy chicken, rice. Fil notices the wine on the counter.
“Okay to open this, bro? Josh keep tabs on an Excel sheet or something?” he chuckles.
Pau finally cracks a laugh, the first one he’s had in days. “I won’t tell,” he says, like he’s sure he’s coming back. The smile fades a bit when he remembers he isn’t. Fil catches his frown, and he nods as if to say, “For now, we’re here. Just let us be with you.”
The boys sit across the table, eating and talking, but nobody asks for the details. The banter alternates between green jokes and easy laughs, with Fil quipping at one point, “Can he still do three rounds like he brags,” and asking in the same breath whether they have finally done it on his gifted chocolate rug.
Pau laughs a little too loudly, and the boys share a quiet, almost unnoticeable look with each other. They hear both the bellow of his laugh and how it fails to mask how hollow its echo actually is.
Pau gets quiet at times, his voice trailing off. They see him start looking at the door again, like it might open, and when Yves catches it, he feels a slight pang in his chest.
The boys let the silence hold him. They know they’re not Josh, and they don’t want to be. What they came here for is to be the one who stays when Pau’s world starts falling apart quietly, because sometimes, that’s what keeps the walls from caving in completely.
After dinner, close to midnight, Pau finally falls asleep on the couch, clutching again at his wolf plushie. Fil grimaces, nudging Yves, pointing with his lips to the sad figure curled up on the couch.
“What does he need that plushie for, oh my god, Yves. It’s so sad and it’s so tender and ugh… I hate Josh.” He loudly whispers.
Yves looks at him, splayed out on the recliner with half-lidded eyes, drunk on Josh’s expensive wines. He puts a finger to his mouth saying “Ssshh,” and then he conks out again, burying his head under a pillow. Jah snores softly on the floor beside the couch, a sequined unicorn pillow under his arm, hurting Fil’s eyes.
Fil looks around the room, wide awake. He sits on the edge of the rug across Pau, scrolling through Tiktok with the sound off. He glances at Pau every few swipes, watching his chest rise and fall. Catching the way Pau’s fingers twitch in his sleep, like he’s dreaming of something he wants to hold onto.
He exhales, then decides to send a text to Josh.
Fil:
“Bro come home pls. Pau’s just… he’s not ok.
His hair’s all dry. Earlier I thought he was gna cry.
Spiderman 3 movie bro wtf who fucking cries at that. Idk maybe u”
Josh replies after ten minutes.
Josh:
“Thanks for being there for him”
Fil:
“Wtf? When the fuck are u coming back?
It’s his bday soon u heartless fuck”
Josh:
“Soon”
Fil exhales sharply through his nose.
Fil:
“Where the fuck r u?”
Josh:
“Taiwan”
Fil stares at the word long and hard.
What the fuck?
Chapter 22: Pilgrims
Summary:
Josh retraces Pau's steps in Taiwan while Pau's left waiting in Manila. Josh has been gone for eight days, and on his birthday, Pau only wants one thing -- Josh back, or at least a banana cue.
Notes:
[[So sorry we're delayed with the posting of the ending chapters. I'm still in a trance coming back from HK, and Pau actually waving to me on the D2 show Lol. For once, my real life has been better than my fiction. JK I have delayed the release too, in all seriousness, in solidarity with the Filipino people marching on the streets yesterday. LABAN, PILIPINAS!!!]]
I'm on X if you want to engage: @luna_in_limbo :)))
Chapter Text
🎧 FOR THE MOOD:
EVERYTHING HALLELUJAH - Justin Bieber
💿 FULL MIXTAPE:
Josh stares at his phone for a bit and exhales before putting it back in his pocket. He walks to the counter to pay for his purchase— three bottles of perfume. An Issey, An Eldo, A Jo Malone. One for Pau’s each decade. One for each of his seasons.
“Shēngrì?” the lady at the counter asks with a sweet smile. Birthday?
Josh smiles back, handing her his credit card. “Shì de, zhangfu.” Yes, my husband, he answers in broken Mandarin.
The lady looks at him, both curious and confused. Josh wonders if he said it wrong.
“Wo ai ta,” Josh says. I love him.
The smile on the lady’s face widens, and she puts a hand to her chest.
“Sanping,” the lady says, holding up three fingers. Three bottles. “Lucky!” she adds giddily.
Josh smiles again, pointing a finger to his chest. “Me. I’m lucky. Xie xie.”
Josh leaves the counter ladies giggling in delight.
Three more days before your birthday, he thinks.
Two more days before I come home to you.
***
Josh decided to come back to Taiwan to understand. He wanted to retrace Pau’s steps, hoping to reclaim it for him. For both of them. He knew he was coming back the moment he closed their apartment door in Manila. He always knew he would choose him over and over, nine years ago, when he was 22. At every age. At every season.
He spent the past five days trying to understand his pain. Piecing and walking through the ugly, so he could change it with something else. Not because he can’t accept it, but because Pau, even in his ugliest, deserves everything beautiful. You can’t run away from someone who’s learning. If you love him, you see him through, hoping in the end, with all of his new wisdom—he still chooses you, too.
He was angry, hopping on that plane. Angry that he had to do it. Angry that Pau had to have that part of him. That he let himself be hurt that much, when Josh had always been ready to help carry everything with him. But he realized that his anger stemmed from his hurt, too, and a proper healing in a union ultimately involves two.
Thirty minutes before the plane landed in Taipei, Josh scribbled his pit stops on an airline tissue.
Josh never liked typing on gadgets—it feels unanchored to him and untrue. Pau, whose own handwriting is beautifully loopy and bold, always told him it was weird that he liked writing because his penmanship was just awful. But it’s the message, he remembers telling him, not how it comes across. Pau told him to rethink that because communication is a full vehicle, and everything that comes with it will be interpreted as a whole. Josh smiles at the thought. Pau is the songwriter. The poet. The storyteller. He knows now that everything he said about that was true.
Josh started his first night in Taipei in a jazz bar downtown. He sat quietly in one of the booth’s chairs, the faces around him cloaked in low, dim shadows. The whole place felt to him like an antechamber leading to nowhere. Just a tunnel with its walls echoing sad tunes. On his third whiskey, he realized this might be the sound inside Pau’s chest. Longing and pained, but when you strain a bit and open your ears to the music, it’s very lovely, too.
He planned to stay at the exact apartment that Pau did, but it was booked, so he opted to stay at the Shang instead. He chose a room on the floor with a view of the apartment from a distance, not to necessarily spy on whoever it was that was staying there now, but to feel what it is like to view something that was once yours from afar. How to live with all the memories within your reach, but remaining unavailable to you with either hand.
The next day, he rode a three-hour train to Taichung. He walked through Rainbow Village, feeling Pau’s Taichung guitar pick in his pocket, eating a popsicle, checking out the shops. It’s so colorful, so alive. It’s so… like him. So Pau. To get lost in the middle of a colorful maze, and then end up drinking milk tea with the local kids afterwards. After an hour, he gets off the bus to check out the National Theater.
He stumbled on a free show of musical theater, and he decided to check it out. The music wasn’t necessarily his type, nor was it his language, but he stayed on to watch. When it was done some 45 minutes later, there were tears in his eyes. This is how he understood what it feels like to understand not with your head, but with your heart.
After lunch, Josh decided to check out Jiufen on his way back to Taipei. All he knows is what Pau told him once, that this is the village where his favorite Ghibli movie was inspired by. Spirited Away, a movie Pau religiously watched once, every month, before they made it big. Before cities were just duty-frees and international tour stops. Pau wanted to come visit the last time they were both here, but things happened, and it was left unchecked on his list.
All I want is to be with you, even inside your dreams.
Josh found himself a bit unnerved navigating the little village’s old shops and tea houses. He found it frustrating, given his good sense of direction, to walk one short alley and then end up at another one he had already explored. If it’s a straight line, then why does it keep looping like a cul-de-sac, he mutters under his breath, until a nice old lady offers him Tanghulu— candied fruits on a stick.
While Josh never liked sweets, he will never be one to say no to an elder, much less a woman. He takes the offering from the old lady, but when he reaches for his wallet to pay her, the old lady shakes her head, saying, “Zìyóu, kuàilè,” before leaving.
Josh starts after the lady, not understanding what she said. But an uncle from one of the shop fronts calls to him and says, in again, broken English, “Auntie said, free. To be happy.”
Josh smiles at the shopkeeper, nodding to himself.
Free to be happy.
“Shi de. Shi de,” and he starts walking uphill again.
On top of the hill, Josh found a tea house overlooking the whole town. He sat down in one of the wobbly wooden chairs near the railings, taking in the view. A young lady came to take his order, and he asked for hot green tea, no milk, no sugar. When the lady came back, she had with her a small jar of sugar cubes.
Josh looked at her, confused, wondering if she didn’t hear what he said about no sugar. The lady looked at him with a small smile, sensing his confusion.
“You never know,” she simply said, then left to take orders from another table.
Josh nodded at the steaming mug of hot tea before him, carefully taking off the lid of the sugar jar. He picked one cube, then two, and dropped them on the mug before stirring it. The first sip hit him like a promise. He takes another one. And then, a big gulp.
One, just to try. Two, just to see if I like it. Three, is what I decide.
He finished the whole sugared green tea without noticing, a quiet calm blanketing him in the cold of the town’s mountains, thinking to himself, That wasn’t… bad.
He caught the lady who served him the tea before he left. “Xie, xie,” he said, and the lady just nodded. Josh hesitated for a bit, but before he fully turned to leave, he asked. “Ghibli? Where?”
The lady chuckled at him. “Everywhere here. Ghibli. Up here, then down. You just walk. You find.”
Josh thanked her again before going down the cobbled steps. Everywhere, he thought, wanting to protest, but the remains of the sugared tea in his throat felt like a warm hug.
He walked down the alleys again, checking the shops. The lady was right in saying that everywhere here is basically Ghibli, with all of the shops he passed selling trinkets in all shapes and sizes of Totoro. Josh paused to check his phone to see if Totoro was from Spirited Away, and he gently slapped his forehead when he found out he was wrong.
When he looked up, he saw a small shop tucked in a little behind the others, dimly lit, the eaves of its roof dripping rainwater into a small puddle in front of its entrance. He went inside, and the shop was selling different stuff from what he had seen in the other shops he passed by. There was a music box that played a Ghibli theme, but he found it too sentimental. A Totoro plushie, but quilted out of mismatched patches. Wind chimes with Ponyo as the pendant. Musical instruments. A ukulele hand-painted with Princess Mononoke. A flute. And then from a nondescript corner, lumped against socks and stationery, he saw it.
A guitar pick painted with Kaonashi. No Face. Staring at him like it’s saying, It’s me you are looking for. Pick me. Pick me. And he did. Without hesitation.
All these turns, all these detours, but in the end, it’s only you.
***
Straight from the mall with his bags of perfume, Josh visits the bar with the toy cranes for the fifth night in a row. He walks over to the counter and changes bills into tokens. The counter guy knows him by now. His tokens are always so many, he has to put them inside a small plastic bucket.
He walks over to the toy crane, setting his perfume bags on the floor, like it was outside slippers and didn’t cost one month’s worth of rent in a small room in Manila.
Josh concentrates so hard he’s biting the tip of his tongue. If he doesn’t get this now, he will no longer have time to. He deftly maneuvers the crane’s shaft to land on his target, so carefully, so intensely, that the people in the other toy cranes stop what they’re doing to go and watch him.
Josh pushes the button, watching the metal arms of the crane hold on to what he wants with bated breath. It latches. The crowd behind him hollers and applauds. Josh startles a bit, not realizing he had an audience. But the joy of finally getting it moves him to soak in the attention, and he playfully bows to the crowd.
A wolf plushie the size of Pau’s arms.
Perfect. Lucky.
Josh tucks the plushie under his arms, waving to the crowd one last time. He takes the perfume bags from the floor and walks out to go back to his room at the Shang.
***
In Manila, Pau flips through his planner and sees his birthday circled with a sloppy heart drawn in Josh’s handwriting. He sighs, tearing the page out, and then crumples it, half-throwing it to the trash bin underneath the desk.
He lights another expensive candle, Margiela Bubble Bath this time, something he got during one of the many times he was unhappy with how their stylist cut his hair— bangs so thick it made his forehead sweat all the time.
He starts re-reading Spiderman comics, aimlessly, more like looking at the drawings. Every so often, he would still look at the door, as if Josh might suddenly walk in. Since Josh left, he checks the door lock twice before bedtime, and most times he almost doesn’t lock it. Because what if Josh comes in and he has lost his keys?
Six long days since he’s been gone. It might as well have been an eternity.
Fil sent him a text earlier that night saying he would take him to a salon as a birthday treat. He agrees, because Fil says Josh would be appalled if he came back and Pau has a bowl cut. He laughs at the thought again. What if, indeed, I just choose to be bald?
He stands from the desk, wanting to prepare coffee. The crumpled planner page tugs at the balls of his foot. He picks it up and smooths it. When he passes by the fridge in the kitchen, he sticks it on. Next to his Post-it note, still smelling of bacon and asparagus. “I love you. You always forget.” But now Josh may have forgotten his birthday. Or maybe he just simply lost all care.
He puts lotion on his hands before bed, as Josh always reminded him. Everything about you is soft for me. From the ends of your hair to the tips of your fingers, he said. He gets him the fanciest hand creams all the time, and now his tube’s almost running out. He doesn’t know where Josh gets this— he can’t even pronounce the French label. Maybe I should ask Fil, he thinks. Or maybe I’ll just use margarine and get it over with.
He messages their GC “Good night :)”, half-hoping Josh is reading from wherever he is, and wishing him a good night, too.
***
Josh sits on the floor of his hotel room, staring at his phone in his hand. It’s past 11 pm, and Pau’s wishing everyone good night with a smile. It’s too early for him to be in bed, Josh thinks, and a small frown begins to form in his face.
Just one day more, honey. Plus one more to have your cake and eat it too.
He inches towards a medium-sized box near the foot of his bed. He takes off its lid and carefully examines its contents, like an heirloom recipe engraved in his head.
The Kaonashi guitar pick he picked up from Taichung. The three perfume bottles, each carefully wrapped in soft gold paper, tied up with a white bow. A new Moleskine in dark green leather and a hardbound copy of Murakami’s 1Q84 he picked up from an indie bookstore near the train station. And finally, a silk hair tie scrunchie he got from a fancy mall. YSL, in the most beautiful purple color.
Josh smiles to himself.
He tries to squeeze the wolf plushie inside the box, but it will not fit. He chuckles softly at the image of himself hand-carrying this huge-ass toy to the airport. I hope there are no cameras, he thinks, but if there are, then whatever.
All this, honey, and more. All of me. All for you.
He continues to pack the rest of his bags, falling asleep on the floor.
***
Josh awakes and checks the time on his watch. 7 am, plenty of time, he thinks, and gets up. He spends the next two hours tidying up the room and his stuff and prepares to check out.
On the way to the airport, Josh asks his Uber to drop him off and wait for him at Good Cho’s, the best baker in Xinyi. He orders two boxes of custard bread to go.
“Làzhú?” Candles? Josh asks, and the teenager at the counter smiles at him.
“How many?” the kid asks.
“Sanshi,” he answers, and the kid’s eyes widen with delight, like he wants to make sure he’s heard him correctly. Thirty?
“Shi de,” Josh says, “If you have that many, xie xie.”
“Wife, birthday?” the kid asks.
“Bu. Wǒ de zhang fu,” No. My husband, Josh corrects the kid with a smile.
The kid grins widely, and when he comes back, he hands Josh his takeout boxes and a big box of candles.
“60. Double,” the kid winks. “I like your songs. Shēngrì kuàilè, your husband. Jiao yu!”
Josh nods with a smile and bows, “Xie, xie. Shì shì shùn lì.”
May everything go smoothly. For both me and you.
***
Josh arrives at the airport and pulls up his phone to send a text to Fil.
Josh:
“Horndog. I’m about to board. Going home 😘”
Fil:
“new fone, who dis?”
Josh chuckles.
Josh:
“Listen. Take him to the salon on his bday ok?”
Fil:
“Depends. U gna pay?”
Josh:
“Ya whatever he wants”
Fil:
“Bowl cut for him, ya good?”
Josh:
"Fuck u. Fine. Gna pay for yours too"
Fil:
"That’s my sugar daddy 😘"
Josh:
"Pick me up pls, gna stay first at yours"
Fil:
"Yuck, how abt no. Why dont u bring him to the salon urself?"
Josh:
"Come on bro, love u"
Fil:
"Yuck. U’ll sleep on my floor"
Josh:
"Deal. My plane lands around 5"
Fil:
"Pau know? It’s his fucking bday u fucking heartless piece of shit"
Josh:
"No. shut up your fucking mouth. I got a plan"
Fil:
"As u wish, boss"
Josh puts the phone back in his pocket, looking at his watch. An hour before boarding.
One more final place to go.
***
Pau awakes around 8 in the morning of his birthday. I’m thirty, he thinks with a sigh, staring at the ceiling. He reaches for his phone beside him, scrolling through notifications. There are so many of them, not a single one from Josh. He toggles off the settings.
Happy Birthday? How?
He’s just getting out of bed when the doorbell rings. He immediately clutches his chest, thinking it could finally be Josh.
He rushes to the door, out of breath, calling from the inside. “Honey?” But when he opens it, a deliveryman smiles at him shyly, saying, “Good morning, sir. I have thirteen cakes here, ordered for you.”
Pau sighs, nodding. He almost wants to ask if any of the cakes came from Josh. Instead, he says, Thank you, okay, come inside, put it here.
“Happy Birthday, sir,” the deliveryman says, and then asks if they can take a selfie. “My daughter has the biggest crush on you, sir,” and Pau nods and smiles.
Pau stares at the thirteen cakes sitting on their counter. He will throw it all away for a banana cue from Josh.
Fil calls him around 10 am, asking if he’s got anything to do aside from being sad and pretty. He chuckles a bit, joking that Fil’s got him down pat, and then, Yeah, no, why?
Fil says he will pick him up in an hour, and Happy Birthday, you fucking mess, I’m gonna take you to the salon, my treat, my treat, yes, get dressed. Pau half-heartedly agrees, but the other half of him wants to stay home, because what if Josh comes back, and he’s not there to open the door?
If he will come back, this would be the best time. If he will not, then he has decided. He is no longer mine.
***
Josh sits next to Fil, reading the exchange on his phone. He nudges Fil to get up and go, saying he will leave too, when Fil tells him they are already at the salon.
Fil shakes his head at his friend with a smile. “Fuck you, Jawline. You and your plans. You’re making me blush. Me. Fuck it. Me.”
Josh lets out a laugh. “One day, we’ll find you a love this hard.”
Fil chuckles. “Go bitch, book your car. I’ll help you load your big ass plushie before I go. I’m gonna take care of him for you. Swear he’s not gonna have pink hair when we’re done.”
***
Pau sits under the hairdresser’s helmet looking like a pretty astronaut who’s fallen from space. He sits quietly, looking at his reflection in the mirror, and Fil notices how he brushes his nose when the ladies in the salon gush in hushed voices all over him.
“You okay?” Fil asks him, wincing a bit at the nail technician busy giving him a pedicure.
Pau smiles at him thinly. “Yeah. How long do we need to be here? I kinda want to go home.”
Fil feels his chest beat a little louder. He pulls out his phone when Pau’s not looking to send a text to Josh.
Fil:
“Whipped cream. U done? Diva’s itching for ur dick or something”
Fil stares at his phone hard, waiting for Josh’s reply. He sends him another text.
Fil:
"U dead?"
Josh finally replies after a few minutes.
Josh:
"All done. Drop him home pls, ty"
Fil:
"Just that?"
Josh:
"What do u want? ILY?"
Fil:
"I swear ur dick’s not worth it"
The salon assistant finally takes off the metal helmet from Pau’s head. He stands up abruptly, and he almost hits himself on it.
“Easy there, boy,” Fil says.
“Come, Fil, let’s just eat my cakes at home.”
***
“You wanna come up, Fil? Let’s drink more of Josh’s wine,” Pau says with a sad smile when they reach their apartment.
Fil feels his throat clog up. Jawline better put up a fucking stadium show for his boy.
“Sorry, Pau. Got something I really can’t reschedule. Happy birthday, bro. If I finish early, I’ll try to come back, okay?”
Pau nods. “That’s okay. That’s okay. Thank you for today, Fil.”
He gets out of the car, and Fil leaves.
Pau sighs. He looks around, trying to check if Josh’s car is around, but there’s nothing in the lot but Pau’s car and bike. No car. No Josh.
He almost cries as he starts walking to the door.
Eight days since he’s been gone.
He is no longer mine.
***
Pau puts his hand on the knob, but he hears it creak open before he can turn it. He pushes it a bit, anxious and surprised, and then it finally opens wide.
“Happy birthday, pretty,” Josh says with a quiet smile.
Pau puts both hands to his mouth, sobbing. Josh puts both arms around him, hugging him tight.
“Joshie…” he cries, still sobbing uncontrollably on Josh’s shoulders.
“I’m sorry, honey… that I had to leave… that I’m making you cry. Oh,” Josh says, pulling away to wipe Pau’s tears. “I missed you so much,” and he hugs him again.
Pau stands there just wrapping his arms around Josh, almost choking on his sobs, snot bubbling from his nose. “I don’t care, I don’t care. You’re here, you’re here. Don’t leave me again. Please, please.” He mumbles in between his sobs.
Josh kisses the top of his forehead. “No, no, no. Not even when you ask me. Come inside, honey. Come, come.”
Josh turns on the light so the apartment is swathed in a dim glow. Pau holds his other hand, his eyes shut tight, refusing to let go.
“Open your eyes, hon.”
Pau opens his eyes and sees a huge wolf plushie sitting next to his old one on the couch. A huge smile forms on his face, and he immediately runs to it.
“Oh my god,” he says with such wonder that Josh almost tears up at the sound. “Is this for me? It’s so big, honey, look,” and Pau cradles it like a motherless kitten he wants to lull to sleep. “Thank you, Joshie, thank you.”
“Now, they’re a small pack, Pau. Now, you have two,” Josh says from across him, a warm smile on his face.
Pau cries even harder. Josh lets out a chuckle.
“Hon, you’ve got to stop crying, please. Because that’s just the start, and by the end you might be dehydrated.”
Pau laughs, his eyes sparkling. “Oh, I don’t need anything more. I got you and a huge wolf plushie. This is already the best birthday ever!”
Josh walks to him, taking his hand.
“Come with me. Birthday’s not a birthday without food, right?”
Josh leads him to the kitchen. Pau sees the spread before him, all his thirteen cakes spread across the table and the counter. There are donuts, pasta, and bacon wrapped in asparagus. In the middle of the table, rows and rows of custard bread, lined with so many candles, its lights so beautifully flickering in the quiet of the room.
Josh says not to cry anymore, but he can’t help it. Tears stream down from his face, while he lovingly checks the feast before him. All of these, his favorites. He takes one of the custard bread slices and lifts it to his nose before taking a small bite.
His eyes widen again in quiet realization. “Honey… is this… from Good Cho?” he whispers.
Josh just smiles, nodding silently.
“But how?” Pau lets out a gasp, not quite understanding yet.
Josh pulls out a chair, motioning for him to sit. Pau sits down, his doe-eyed stare at Josh unwavering.
Josh forks pasta on his plate. Deftly, like he was only born for it.
“Did you make this?” Pau quietly asks.
“You said once you wanted pasta made by someone who loved you. I love you.”
“Josh… I… this is too much. You didn’t have to… do so much.”
“You deserve everything good. Good that is just and only yours.”
Pau smiles, wiping the last of his tears.
They eat, warmed up by the soft light of the sixty candles and a love that just transcends. Every now and then, Josh says something dumb and funny, and Pau snorts into his wine, like none of the eight painful years ever happened.
Josh reaches for one custard bread slice and leaves just one candle there. He holds it with two hands, gently moving it across towards Pau’s face.
“Make a wish, hon.”
Pau leans forward, clapping his small claps. He closes his eyes for a second and blows out the flame.
“What did you wish for?” Josh softly asks.
“Nothing. I have everything I want,” and he leans in to give Josh a quick kiss on the lips.
“Oh, but I have more.”
“Josh…”
Josh puts a finger to his mouth and stands to leave the table. When he comes back, Pau sees him carrying a big box, which Josh sets on the floor near him.
“What’s that, hon? Also for me?” Pau asks excitedly.
“Always for you. Open it, honey.”
Pau gets off the chair and sprawls on the floor. Josh gets on the floor too, crouching across him. Pau gently takes off the large bow on the box and sets the lid aside.
Josh watches as Pau inhales deeply, his eyes again beginning to well up.
First, the Kaonashi pick. Pau holds it against the light, then clutches it to his chest like an amulet, whispering, Oh, oh, Spirited Away.
“That’s your favorite Ghibli, right?”
Pau nods softly. Another item in his hand, the green leather Moleskine.
“That’s for your art, honey. Your poems. Your music. Whatever you write there will be just you. Whether ugly or not doesn’t matter. It is you. It is true.”
Pau nods again. His hand touches something hard and heavy. He takes it out to the light. The hardbound Murakami. 1Q84.
Pau smiles widely at Josh. His fingers trace the covers of the book. “Wow… I don’t have this yet.”
“Two moons, honey. In the same night sky but different times. 20 years, and they found each other. I never believed in love stories… until I’ve lived a real one. Your book in Taipei… Norwegian Wood… the lines you underlined thrice, you almost tore the page… ‘Will you remember that I existed?’ Honey… you don’t get to doubt anymore. I will always exist with you. 2 moons or 6. 20 years or 60.”
“A hundred, hon?” Pau smiles.
“A billion.”
Pau reaches again inside the box. He finds a small one and takes it out. A square-shaped box tied up with a printed ribbon. Yves Saint Laurent, Pau reads softly. He opens it up carefully, Josh watching him like he’s the one being offered a gift.
Beneath the paper, a purple scrunchie. Pau feels it with his hands and then sniffs it.
“Honey… this is so… this is so beautiful.” He gasps, holding on to it with both palms.
“I love all of you. Even your messy, stray baby hairs. I will get you a hundred of that, twice in every color, if it means no more rubber bands that hurt you.”
Pau shakes his hair, still soft from the treatments at the salon earlier. He runs his hand through it, neatly picking up its strands to tie it up using the scrunchie.
Josh lights up at the sight. “Look at you… So pretty with a purple crown. I hope… that with me… you’ll always grow your hair long.”
Pau smiles widely, touching the silk scrunchie on his hair over and over. “Joshie… this is so soft… can you take a picture of me, please?”
Josh pulls out his phone and indulges him. He almost can’t press the button. He can’t help but just stare. How beautiful he is when he lights up like that. The soft purple scrunchie on the top of his head illuminates the whole room like a mystical lighthouse. You forget everything, and if you don’t, you pray instead that you just always remember.
Pau reaches into the box again. There are three items more wrapped up in gold paper. The items feel cold to his touch. He takes it out carefully, one by one, then unwraps the first one.
Issey Miyake. Then the other. ELDO, Jasmine et Cigarette. And finally, the last one. Jo Malone. English Pear and Freesia.
Pau smiles at Josh, gratefully, a sad look passing on his face briefly.
“One for each of your decades,” Josh says softly. “One for each of your seasons I have loved you through. I will choose you in each. I will always take it all. Who you were. Who you are. Who you are going to be.”
This time, Pau crawls to him and hugs him tight, melting to a puddle of soft, steady tears.
“I’m so lucky, Josh. So fucking lucky.”
Josh pulls away to kiss the tip of his nose. “You and I both, honey. You and I.”
Pau exhales sharply, nodding slowly. Josh reaches into his pocket. He offers Pau the small envelope in his hand.
“What is this?”
“Just open it.”
Pau reads the note in front of the envelope, “Honey”, it simply said, in Josh’s awful handwriting. He opens the envelope and sees it. His old Seiko watch he got from his first salary. Now changed into new straps. Chocolate brown, like their rug, its premium leather both sturdy and comforting in his hands.
Josh gently takes it away from his hold and starts to strap it to Pau’s wrist. Pau stares at it, then shifts his glance to Josh.
“You were always trying to be enough. For the fans. For your parents. For me. But you already were. You’ve always been.”
Pau looks up at him again. His throat works before he finds the words. Josh cups his face.
“You never had to be anything more, honey… than mine.”
Pau kisses him on the mouth, gently, then wholly, and Josh kisses him back.
Chapter 23: Colors
Summary:
Josh in Pink, Pau in Burgundy, and how love finally allowed them to be in Technicolor again. <3
Notes:
[[So sorry we're delayed with the posting of the ending chapters. I'm still in a trance coming back from HK, and Pau actually waving to me on the D2 show Lol. For once, my real life has been better than my fiction. JK I have delayed the release too, in all seriousness, in solidarity with the Filipino people marching on the streets yesterday. LABAN, PILIPINAS!!!]]
[[I ended up with a lot of words (and feelings) for the Finale, so I had to split it into two chapters. Here's the first one. OH MY GOD, I DID IT.]]
I'm on X if you want to engage: @luna_in_limbo :)))
Chapter Text
🎧 FOR THE MOOD:
EVERYTHING - Ella Mai, John Legend
💿 FULL MIXTAPE:
“Josh... my back hurts,” Pau says, stretching his arms toward Josh lying by his side. The first rays of light are already streaming in from the windows, and Josh stirs, still half-asleep.
“Josh… I can’t move. You broke me! Do something!” Pau continues to whine on Josh’s shoulder.
Josh finally shifts to face him and murmurs. “What a baby. Do you wanna hurt some more?” He giggles. “Come closer, hon, I’ll rub it out.”
Pau turns his back to Josh, but Josh bites his shoulders. Pau flinches. He turns to face him again.
“Oh… I thought your back hurts?” Josh asks in between giggles.
“How dare you bite me!”
“At least you forgot your aching back, right?”
Pau buries his face against Josh’s collarbone. “You broke my back. How am I supposed to walk?” he says in a muffled voice.
Josh grins and chuckles, low and sleep-heavy. He slides an arm around Pau’s waist. “It’s because you can’t stop climbing me.”
Pau swats at his chest and rolls his eyes. “Well, you were so sturdy. And hard. What do you expect me to do? Say no?”
Josh’s laugh softens into a kiss pressed to Pau’s temple. “Fine, point taken. Alright now, do you want me to rub it for you?”
Pau lifts his head and winks at Josh with a mischievous smile, crunching his nose. “Just my back, Joshie?”
Josh groans and hides his head under the blanket. “Honey, I thought your back hurts?”
“It does,” Pau says, laughing. “But it’s only 7 am and… well, I guess we could sleep some more? Or you can fuck me in the counter. Your choice,” Pau laughs.
“Shit. What am I supposed to do with you?” Josh mutters, pulling him under the blanket.
“Love me right. Like you always do.” Pau whispers against his cheek.
They stay in bed nuzzling until Pau begs for food well past noon.
Josh prepares lunch in the kitchen, his shirt off, sweatpants slung low on his waist. He hears Pau sigh, and when he turns, he finds him dramatically limping to the fridge.
Pau gulps cold water straight from the pitcher, and when he catches Josh staring, he turns to his side and raises his head a bit more so Josh sees the movement of his throat.
Josh puts a hand to his mouth, stifling a giggle. “Look at you doing too much. Like you have to do much. Oh god.”
Pau almost chokes on the water. He sets the pitcher back inside the fridge. He rolls his eyes at Josh and walks toward the counter, his slim fingers tracing its edges. He turns to Josh and winks. “I wonder how strong this counter is.”
Josh giggles again. “God. Please, honey. Please stop.”
Pau bites his top lip. “Why are your sweatpants so low? You’re just cooking lunch.”
“Stop, please. You can barely walk. If you come any closer, I may end up burning the house.”
“So turn off the fucking stove, then. Turn something else on. I don’t know, Joshie? How about me?” Pau winks, giggling.
“You can’t fuck on an empty stomach, Pau. Let me finish this first. Then maybe I’ll finish you.” Josh says while stirring the pot of soup.
“Now we’re talking.”
“How many more birthday fucks do you want, hon?”
“Every second, I turn older, Joshie. So it’s my birthday every second. Technically.”
They both end up laughing. Josh finishes cooking as Pau sets the table.
***
Both of them try to downplay it in front of the world, but their love seeps through the most mundane moments, stronger than it has ever been. The purple scrunchie eternally strapped on Pau’s wrist — if not his hair — amplifying the softness of his voice when he talks about Josh, or the glides of the strokes of his pen when signing papers. People catch him softly tugging on it when Josh is not in the room. Notice how when he’s bored in a meeting, he holds it to the light until it catches the gleam just right, and they know it’s a sign they should end the meeting right there and then because they’re no longer getting his attention.
Their PR head once asked Fil about it, and Fil just said “That’s YSL,” half-amused, half-frothing at the mouth, and that “there’s no one else who could wear it like him.” When the PR presses, for work, she says, “Is that from Josh?” Fil grins and tells her, “Ask the pretty boy, if you can, if you have the time, because I tell you, he will not shut up about it.”
Everyone notices the lightness in Pau’s movements, the easy smiles he gives everyone, and when he laughs, it’s so contagious in a way that it hasn’t been in a long time. Everyone remembers why he is the CEO in the first place. Everyone feels grateful to have him finally back. For him to have Josh back, even when they’re still waiting for the official memo. But nobody really feels like such truth still needs to be underscored.
One morning, Josh comes to the office in a translucent pink Helmut Lang dress shirt, and the stylists have to stop themselves from dropping to the floor. Josh — who never wears color, who will never be caught dead in clothes that don’t mirror the sharp lines of his body — now draped in pink, his abs welcoming approving stares when he shifts, when the A/C catches the flaps of the fabric. They giggle, fawning over him, and Josh just lets them. Smiles sheepishly at them, asking them if the shirt is okay, saying that Pau insisted that he wear it. They all tell him to tell Pau how grateful they are. That he should let Pau dress him often, and Josh lets it slip too late, that they would break up first before he wears Pau’s crocs.
The staff who heard almost jumped in their places, wanting to ask Josh more. Josh just winks at everyone before leaving the room, and when he comes back, Pau is trailing behind him, holding a wolf plushie so huge it’s almost covering his face. Josh is carrying an oversized purple crocheted Bao Bao bag that they immediately clock isn’t his, and when a box of strawberry Pocky drops out of it, they know their hunch is confirmed.
Pau picks up the Pocky box from the floor and half-runs to where the staff are sitting across the table. “Here,” he says with a smile. “I have so many. He buys this in bulk, like my hand creams.” They cover their red faces with their hands when he turns away, and when they’re left in the room out of earshot, they squeal. “I can’t take it. Oh my god. They’re so cute, I need hazard pay.” Pau returns, popping half his head inside the door. “Please remind me to bring a box tomorrow for all of you. But don’t tell Josh I gave it to you,” and then he’s gone again. The staff almost tear up, clutching on to their phones, almost wanting to share this moment with the world.
Fil almost chokes on a chicken wing, seeing Josh in the pink shirt, calling out from across the room, “Well, hello there, Jawline Barbie,” and Yves snickers with him. Josh rolls his eyes at both of them, settling Pau’s purple tote on the table, like a bougie diaper bag with all his mom needs.
Jah says the shirt is cute, but when he sees Pau with the wolf plushie, he runs to him instantly. Pau immediately hands him the plushie like a kindergartener proudly sharing a toy, “It’s so big and soft, isn’t it? Josh gave it to me.” Fil gags and Jah shoots him a look before whispering, “Kuya Pau, I’m so jealous.”
The staff notice how the softness isn’t radiating out of Pau alone. An intern runs to the staff room to report that Josh asked for sugar for his usual black coffee, and that when she came back with one sugar packet, Josh said to please get him two more. That Josh didn’t scoff or raise his eyebrows when she got it wrong, the way he used to. A backup dancer tells the group that practice doesn’t feel so much like a military drill anymore. That Josh asked for more frequent breaks, and one of them was because Pau set his foot down wrong, and almost slipped on the floor. The Josh of old would have grumbled before letting on, he says. He’s still sharp on the dance floor and as calculated, but something else. More fluid. More careful. Now, he moves again with a quiet joy. Something he hasn’t done in so long.
There are stories, too, from the glam team. How Josh just stood up one time to immediately massage Pau’s shoulders, seeing him almost nod off at the makeup chair. The makeup artist says he jokingly asked Josh if they’re still needed, and Josh apologetically smiles at them and says sorry, that he’s just trying to help keep Pau awake, before he leans in really quickly to whisper something in Pau’s ears, which had Pau instantly sitting upright in the chair, a huge grin on his face.
“Well, what did he say?” the styling assistant asks.
“Should I have asked? Like a journalist, you say?”
The staff laugh. The makeup artist continues with more moments he caught. How they’re always fussing about each other, sometimes forgetting that there are people around. Pau asking Josh in a sing-song voice if he has brought his lip balm with him, and Josh just automatically reaching for Pau’s lip balm in his pocket, putting it on Pau’s lips himself, for one. Pau smudging blush on Josh’s cheeks, telling everyone, “Oh, look at my doll.” How they had to stand there, holding their brushes suspended in the air, wanting to punch a wall or scream because it’s too soft, too cute. Not knowing how to react to it, or if they are allowed to, at all, until Josh breaks the moment and simply just says, “Stop, Pau-Pau, you’re making them all blush,” like that would help at all to stop the glam team from combusting.
“Pau-Pau, really? Like I’ve not called my tailor to prepare me a suit for their wedding,” the makeup artist gushes.
Their shared apartment has turned into a mish-mashed shrine. Josh had a glass shelf installed so Pau has a spot to display all his expensive candles, all half-burned, instead of having them scattered all throughout the house. Pau never closes the glass doors of the shelf. He says the candles cannot breathe, and Josh just lets him, even when all the different smells mixed together almost always trigger his migraines. So much so that when Fil visits one time to drop off something for Josh, he says he thought he wandered into a Lush shop and not their apartment instead. He asks Josh how he is still alive, and Pau just laughs, handing over a Margiela candle to Fil, saying, “Yours, to help with your rotten core.”
The fan sightings during their downtimes come more frequently. At one time, a fan spots them in a coffee shop near their HQ. A zoomed-in video gets uploaded to the internet of Josh paying at the counter, Pau beside him, absentmindedly tugging on the edges of Josh’s sleeve. The tugging stops when Josh drops his hand, and while it is unclear whether Josh intertwined his fingers with Pau to stop him from fidgeting, it really did look like he did, immortalized in blurry, broken pixels. But the much clearer view is what sent stan internet on overdrive — the cashier on the counter, smiling so wide, her cheeks so red — the only confirmation the faithful will ever need. So much so that the fandom canonizes the lady in one single night.
A couple of days after, a photo of Josh resting his chin briefly on Pau’s shoulder at a crosswalk, waiting for the light to turn green. Some days after that, another photo, this time of Pau in a local supermarket, waving to some fans with that shy smile of his, his eternally present purple scrunchie sitting snugly on his wrist. Drowning in a jet black hoodie – anyone who pays enough attention knows it belongs to Josh. The local magazines pick up on the “clothes sharing”, and one major rag releases an unofficial online feature, titling it “The Personal Economics of Idol Dressing.” On it, photos from behind the scenes, fan-captured moments, pap shots. All of Pau and Josh, and the myth that’s beginning to form with their seemingly shared closets. Brothers or lovers, a gossip site headlines. Fil cringes at the rag feature, Should’ve been me, he protests to the stylists and Yves. Yves rolls his eyes at him and retorts, “Yeah, but do you have anyone you can share your Rick Owens or Balenciagas with? No. All this leather and studs, but you have been single since dial-up internet. Go cry in the corner, don’t let me stop you.”
And then another photo taken by a deliveryman on a random Thursday morning. Josh, in a tank top showing off his tattooed arms, in front of their apartment, carrying boxes of Aesop shampoo delivered to their doorstep. The delivery man innocently posts it on his socials with a simple, admiring caption: “Sir Josh of Saja, so nice and kind. Delivered 6 boxes of shampoo for Sir Pau.” The photo circles the internet like fire, and it ends up having 100k likes by lunch.
Fil sees the photo, snickering to the high heavens. He zooms it to infinity, not at Josh, but at the box to check for the label. This is the secret to his hair, he thinks to himself, and immediately opens up his iPad to order some for himself. But he finds there are a lot of varieties of Aesop —the box wasn’t clear enough — and he has to be sure. There’s room in Saja for two hair gods, he mutters confidently to himself. He picks up his phone to call Josh.
In the apartment, Pau sits on the couch scrolling through the feeds while Josh sits beside him, trying to fix Pau’s music box that he complains is stuck with the same tune. Pau reads the trending hashtags and laughs under his breath. Every now and then, he reads one aloud to Josh.
“Honey, look… one hashtag is #AesoPau. I wonder when they’ll call to make me a brand ambassador.”
Josh laughs and puts the music box on the coffee table. “I’m sorry I let everyone know what your shampoo is.”
Pau inches closer to him, putting his head on his shoulder. “I’m more sorry they’ve got to see your bare arms so early in the morning. That shit’s supposedly only for me.” He says teasingly.
“You mean this?” Josh says as he pins Pau to his lap and locks his neck around his arms.
Pau wriggles under his arms, all giggling. “Stop, I can’t breathe!”
Josh leans in to kiss him, muttering against his mouth, “This… is how… You don’t breathe.”
Pau doesn’t stop squealing until Josh’s phone rings.
“Don’t pick it up, honey,” Pau says, biting the top of Josh’s lip. “You’ll dry me up.”
Josh giggles, one thumb on Pau’s lips, his other hand reaching for the phone on the table.
“It’s Fil, hon. Maybe it’s work.”
Pau takes the opportunity of Josh’s grip on him loosening to immediately jump on his lap, cradling his face. The second Josh tries to say “Hello,” Pau kisses him square on the mouth.
Fil:
“Jawline. What’s pretty boy’s shampoo?”
Josh tries to say “Aesop”, but all Fil hears is a muffled sound. The phone almost slips out of Josh’s hand.
Fil:
“Jawline. You fucking there? HELLO? You dying?”
“Honey, stop for… a bit… please… it’s horn…dog…” Josh tries to say while Pau continues to drown him in kisses.
Fil:
“Oh my god. Oh my fucking god. Are you making out right now? Oh my god. While I’m on the line? Fucking disgusting. Oh god, oh god, oh god. My ears. Ughhhhh.”
Pau bursts out laughing against Josh’s lips, whispering, “Say something, honey.”
Josh tries, but all that comes out is another garbled noise, because Pau still keeps on kissing him.
Fil screams on the other line.
Fil:
“WHEN YOU’RE DONE EATING EACH OTHER, JUST PLEASE LET ME KNOW WHAT TYPE OF AESOP SHAMPOO HE USES, PLEASE. FOR THE LOVE OF GOD. That’s what I need to know, not how your fucking lips sound together. Fucking yuck. DID YOU HEAR ME, JAWLINE? DON’T! EVER! CALL! ME! HORNDOG! AGAIN! You’re fucking worse.”
And the line goes dead.
Josh collapses onto the couch, laughing. He throws his phone to the side and cups Pau’s face with both hands.
“Okay, now, let’s do something with your silly little tongue. Let’s remind you how it should be done.”
Pau lunges at him, and their mouths sink into each other.
When they’re done, the shops no longer have stocks of Pau’s shampoo.
Josh checks his phone to send Fil a photo of Pau’s shampoo. Fil replies with a GIF of the Energizer bunny.
Fil:
“’Sup w/ u two?”
Josh:
“???”
Fil:
“he lives there. U buy him hand creams candles shampoo. U wear pink. U carry his purple bag. His lip balm’s in ur fucking pocket. U put up this whole thing for his bday. Somethin u aint telling me, boy”
Josh:
“do u need a powerpoint pres, horndog? What u see is what u get”
Fil:
“that don’t cut it. We need 2 talk. U need 2 tell us”
Josh sighs, then smiles.
Pau stares at him for a bit, noticing the shift in his shoulders. “Everything okay, hon?”
Josh turns to look at him. “Pau, we need to tell the boys.”
“Okay,” Pau softly answers with a smile.
“Okay,” Josh nods.
Josh:
“Ok”
Fil:
“When”
Josh:
“U gna wear a gown?”
Fil:
“When”
Josh:
“Ugh tomorrow, u impatient fuck”
The next morning, Fil starts a conversation on the Saja GC.
Fil:
“Pack your bags, Imma take u all somewhere nice”
Pau:
“Oh how long?”
Fil:
“No wolf plushies, pretty”
Josh:
“Schedules?”
Fil:
“Already asked Yra. Just overnight. We go back tomorrow noon”
Jah:
“Cardigans or floral shirts?”
Yves:
“Passport?”
Fil:
“Dang! Just 3 briefs u makin my brain hurt
Pack nice drip 4 dinner
Small tube of Aesop 4 me @Pau”
Josh:
“No”
Fil:
“Cmon bro shops don’t have it anymore”
Pau:
“U gna pick all of us up? U got a yacht now?”
Yves:
“🤣🤣🤣”
Josh:
“Ves and Jah ride with horndog, just txt me the place”
Fil:
“Pau ride u? 🏇🏻🏇🏻🏇🏻”
Josh:
“Fuck u”
Fil:
“Won’t be a surprise anymore. We’ll just drop by yours. Convoy”
Yves:
“U sure Yra knows?”
Fil:
“I DON’T LIE”
Josh:
“This surprise scares me more than u kno”
Jah:
“I’m already packed. What time r u picking me up”
Fil:
“This what happens when Jah only packs up his diapers”
Pau:
“Oh you filth u don’t do that to my baby. Anw what time”
Fil:
“Now. Pls stop making out”
Josh shifts to turn to Pau, both still lying in their bed. He winks at him, pulling him closer and tighter. Pau brushes off Josh’s hair from his forehead.
“Stop touching me,” he says, pushing Josh away. “We have to pack, Joshie.”
Josh giggles and tries to pin him with a groan. “Oh, honey, but it’s so warm here with you.”
Pau playfully swats away his hand and starts to get up. “Fine. I’ll pack for both of us. You don’t get to complain later, alright?”
Josh watches as Pau takes out a small rolling luggage from the closet, setting it down on the floor.
“Honey, what’s that for? He says we’re gonna be back by tomorrow?”
“Shut up. Take your shower. Stop watching me.”
Josh laughs. “No, I wanna watch. I can take a shower in the spa if we end up running late.”
Pau turns to look at him, disgust written all over his pretty face. “Yuck?”
Josh just giggles again. “Go on. Let me see what you put in that bag.”
“I get to decide.”
Josh holds both his hands up, palms facing out. “Never said anything.”
“It’s so easy to pack for you. All your clothes are basically the same color. Navy. White. Gray. Brown. Black. Black. Then more black. Oh, what’s this? More black. Ugh, it’s making me sad.”
Pau takes out a white dress shirt from the closet, one of the thirty almost identical shirts Josh has hanging on his side of the closet.
“Why is this one so wrinkly, Joshie?”
“I think you wore that once, and you just returned it there without washing.”
“Still clean. We’ll take this.” Pau folds the shirt carefully, his tongue sticking out in the corner of his mouth. He slips in a random pastel cardigan, mumbling under his breath, “Just in case.”
Another white shirt, this time linen, without a collar. His oversized hoodie. A long skirt. A knitted sweater. Boxers. A cashmere top Josh got for him, but never wore because it itches him. A small jar of a Diptyque candle from a set Yra gave him. A bottle of their Jo Malone. 6 pairs of socks he rolls into neat little balls.
“Honey, we don’t wear socks to a spa?” Josh coos from the bed.
“What if it’s cold? You always get cold. I told you to shut up.”
Pau stands up to go to the bathroom, and when he comes back, he tosses two bottles of his Aesop shampoo into the suitcase.
“Why are you bringing that, hon? It’s probably a hotel… they would have shampoo there. And you have… where’s your little bottle?” Josh says, finally getting up.
“This is for Fil,” Pau says decidedly. Josh smiles. He walks over to Pau, still shirtless, wanting to help. Pau shoves him away.
“No, no. You’ll just make it ugly. Please shower now. You’ve got like a million rituals. We’re gonna be late.”
Josh chuckles. “Honey, it’s just Fil. And Yves, and Jah. We can never be late.”
“God, Josh! Get a move on, please. And hand me my wolfie.”
“Fil said no plushie, hon. I can be your plushie.”
Pau rolls his eyes at him. “What a generous offer. Plushie, now. I don’t care what Fil says.”
Josh hands him a small wolf plushie, a new one the staff gifted Pau for his birthday. Pau carefully places it on top of the pile, squashing everything down. He leans on the suitcase a bit and shuts it with a proud little nod. “All done,” he whispers, satisfied.
Josh just laughs again, making his way to the bathroom. “I love you, you know?” he calls out as he walks away.
“I know. It’s plastered there on your post-it on the fridge.”
Fil honks his car outside just as Josh was finishing up lacing his shoes. Pau stands beside him, wearing an oversized beige knit sweater, wide tattered jeans, and burgundy Crocs peppered with a couple of Swarovski jibbitz.
Josh takes a glimpse of his foot and looks at him amusedly.
“What? He said to dress up,” Pau says with a pout.
“Did you bring dress shoes, hon? Sneakers that could pass off as formal?” Josh asks.
“What for? You say it’s a spa.”
Josh immediately runs back to the bedroom, and when he comes back, he has two pairs of dress shoes packed up in separate dust bags.
Pau groans upon seeing the bags. “Ugh. Those hurt my feet.”
“Just step on my neck when it does,” Josh chuckles while lugging over their suitcase. He turns to check the apartment once, glancing at the switches, the sockets. He takes the car keys from the desk beside the door.
Pau turns to look at him, holding a tote that Josh didn’t see him pack. “What’s that, hon?”
Pau furrows his brows at him. “Duh, honey. Stuff. Let’s go.” Josh laughs at him and nods, watching Pau skip happily to their car, and Fil and the boys waiting at the driveway.
They follow Fil’s car to the south of Manila. When they drive past the airport on the left side, Josh feels Pau stiffen in the passenger seat, and he takes his hand off the gears to put it gently on his lap, pressing on his leg once. Pau turns to him and smiles, but Josh notices his fingers tugging absently on the wolf keychain on his tote bag.
Josh watches him for a beat longer than the road allows, then clears his throat. “We should be near now, hon. Fil’s signalling to turn right,” he says softly.
“Okay.” Pau’s voice is light, almost breezy. But Josh notices how his free hand keeps touching his nose, how he cranes his head to the other side, so he does not get a look at the airport.
Josh worries a bit for him when he sees Pau clutching the ends of his sweater. He presses his hand on his knees again, and he sees Pau exhale, his reflection in the car window showing his doe eyes round and fluttering.
Josh is jolted by the sound of Fil’s car honking in front of them.
“We’re here, honey. You alright?”
Pau finally turns to look at him, smiling thinly. “Yeah.”
Josh leans in to kiss him on his temples before he rolls his windows down to give the valet his car keys.
The boys meet in the reception, where Fil immediately clocks the nose of Pau’s wolf plushie peeking through his suitcase.
“That your son, bro?” he teasingly asks Pau.
Josh locks him into a half-arm hug. “Don’t worry. It doesn’t bite.”
Yves puts an arm around Pau’s waist, and Jah tries to check the contents of Pau’s tote bag.
“This tote bag should have snacks.” He whispers.
Pau laughs at him, the memory of the airport sinking fast. He puts a finger to his lip. “Don’t tell them.” He tells Jah with a wink.
The hotel’s manager introduces herself and leads the boys to the elevator. The boys notice how the lady doesn’t take her eyes off Fil for long, and how when Fil laughs at her innocent joke, his voice turns even lower. When the elevator closes, they catch him winking at the lady with a sly smile on his face. The lady turns red, lowers her head, and clutches her chest.
The boys laugh loudly when the door finally closes, throwing cooing aims and jabs at Fil.
“Someone’s a fucking snake charmer,” Josh teases, playfully jabbing Fil’s arms.
“What the fuck are you talking about? Someone in this group needs to be kind to people,” Fil scoffs.
“That’s me,” Jah volunteers.
“This hotel’s so fancy, horndog. You sure you didn’t steal Josh’s credit card?” Pau laughs.
“I didn’t know we were taking your wife, bro,” Fil smirks.
“Gotta give it to your taste, horndog. It smells so good in here,” Yves remarks, sniffing the air.
“First of all, everyone, stop calling me horndog. Second, Ves. Wait ‘til you see the room I booked.” Fil adds smugly.
“Horndog. Horndog. Horndog,” Jah quietly says, and everyone bursts into laughter again.
It turns out Fil booked the Presidential Suite, located in the penthouse of the hotel. It’s two adjacent rooms, connected with a fancy door Jah finds both heavy and alluring, its solid wood etched with tree carvings. The room is Japandi-inspired, modern, minimalist, and ultimately luxe. Fil presses a hand to his chest, seeing the boys’ reaction.
Yves immediately plops down on the couch. “Jah! Come here, look. It’s so soft!” Jah runs to him like a 5-year-old, his green oversized cardigan almost slipping off his shoulders. “Moneybags be flexing! Josh, you gonna let him win?” Yves says, laughing.
Pau immediately checks the bathrooms. “There is a round, wooden, fucking tub in here! Like in Japan! So big! Come look! Oh my god! Ves!” He screams from one of the rooms.
Josh quietly scans the room beside Fil, and when he turns to him, he slowly claps in his face. “Not bad, horndog. Not bad.”
“I love you in 5 digits, bro. But you love me in 6. You sure you don’t want a mistress? I can be quiet. He wouldn’t know.” Fil whispers.
“I can barely afford his bougie ass,” Josh laughs.
Fil exhales and turns quiet for a bit. He pulls Josh a bit to the side while the boys are busy checking out the room’s amenities. Ves checking out the beddings, Jah turning on all of the television sets in the rooms.
“Listen, jawline. You and Diva take the bigger room, alright. We’re gonna take this one,” Fil says quietly.
Josh furrows his brows a bit, a smile forming on his face. “Oh no, we can all share the rooms. We don’t need to be together, you know. I mean, we’re always together anyway.”
Fil laughs teasingly. “I think you’d die without his balls on your throat. It’s fine, Jawline. You guys deserve it.”
Josh nods, tapping Fil’s shoulder. “You dying or something?”
“Fuck off. I’m trying to be nice,” Fil retorts, mock-offended.
“You sure you’re okay sharing the bed with Jah? He’s gonna hug you, you know.” Josh says with a smirk.
“I’ll strap him to Ves. Jawline. The nice lady tells me these rooms are soundproof. So even if you fuck… I won’t hear the diva screaming into your mic. Not that I’m telling you to fuck, of course. But I know you so well, so I’m just saying,” Fil shrugs.
“Christ, you’re insufferable. Stop obsessing about my dick for a minute, won’t you? But bro,” Josh puts an arm around Fil’s shoulder. “Thank you. Means a lot to me.”
Pau catches the scene and shrieks from across the room. “Why are you putting your arms around that filthy creature?”
Both Fil and Josh snicker. “Go, before he strangles me with his scrunchie,” Fil says, pushing Josh towards Pau’s direction.
Fil tells the group to settle and to make good use of the hotel’s spa. That they could have any appointment they wanted and just put it on his tab. That there’s a pool too, and a fancy café downstairs, while smiling teasingly at Pau. Pau makes a face and tugs at Josh’s sleeves. Josh looks at him, and Fil reads his mouth saying, “Yeah, honey. No gym.”
“What do you mean ‘no gym’, Joshie?” Fil teases, and Josh just sheepishly smiles.
“He means he would go to the gym with you tomorrow,” Pau answers for him, a mocking smile on his face. Fil grimaces at both of them, horrified at their seeming oneness.
Yves, who has left the room prior, is now back wearing a robe with Jah in tow. Jah is so tall and lanky, the robe doesn’t even cover his knees. Both Fil and Josh run to him and push him back to the bedroom, forcing him to change.
Yves laughs, and Pau calls out, “He always brings sweatpants. Put him in one!” And then to Yves, “Kids, right?”
Yves chuckles, a hand over his mouth. “Like you aren’t one.”
Pau rolls his eyes again. “Oh fuck off, Ves. Go drown in your matcha. Don’t let Jah burn himself on the spa.”
The trio comes back from the room, and Jah is dressed in his sweats and his bathrobe half-open, exposing his chest. Fil and Josh laugh at Jah, who postures in the middle of the room, puffing his non-existent pecs out.
Pau gasps. “What did you do? God, you can’t be trusted. You want the whole spa gawking at his pasty chest?”
Yves collapses to the floor laughing. “Let him be, Pau. Maybe a girl would stick to his nipples this time.”
Fil is laughing so hard, tears start to form in his eyes. He clears his throat and says, “Alright, trainwrecks. I told you about the spa, the café, the gym, the soundproof rooms…” Josh slaps his arm.
“All I’m asking is for everyone to be at the Prada store on the north wing by 5 pm. Then we have dinner at 8:30,” he continues.
“You got an underwear launch, bro?” Josh laughs teasingly.
“Bitch, I wish. Anyway, just be there.”
“Did you win the lottery, horndog? C’mon, it’s just us here,” Yves jokes.
“I’m rich, Ves. Just not Joshie-rich.”
Josh’s cheeks redden, but Pau smiles widely, sitting on the floor with his purple scrunchie on his wrist.
Fil leaves to go to the gym as he wanted, with both Jah and Yves following him to go to the spa.
Josh wanders over to the window, looking at the view, while Pau crawls to the bed. Josh notices Pau isn’t making a sound, so he turns to him and sees him pulling his wolf plushie close to his chest. Josh walks over to the bed and lounges beside him, dropping a kiss on his forehead, one hand caressing his hair.
“Are you okay, hon?” he softly asks.
Pau sighs. “Just the airport, Josh. Memories.” He exhales sharply.
Josh fully crawls on the bed so that he’s sitting beside him. He pulls Pau closer to his chest, his back to him, letting his head rest there.
“You know Fil said these rooms are soundproof.” He says teasing, and looks down to see a smile form on Pau’s face.
Pau raises his head and playfully pushes him away. “Look at you. Horndog the second.” His ears get so red that Josh can’t help but nibble a bit.
“I love you, honey. Soundproof or not,” Josh murmurs while kissing his neck. “What do you wanna do, hon?”
“Me. Do me,” Pau rolls off Josh’s grip, giggling. “Close the door, Joshie.”
Josh jumps out of the bed, almost tripping on Pau’s Crocs, running to the door.
“Lock it, too,” Pau calls from the bed, his scrunchie off from his wrist, carefully put away in the nightstand.
His wolf plushie sits on the floor like an underpaid bodyguard.
“Honey…” Josh huffs and puffs as he lies on his back beside Pau. “…you didn’t have to scream that loud.”
Pau closes his eyes next to him, catching his breath. Their bodies glisten with sweat in the soft light of the room. “Nobody can make me scream like you.”
“I’m kidding honey,” Josh says as he turns to Pau and pulls him closer, clutching him tighter, peppering him with kisses. “God, you’re the best. God. I can’t get enough of you.”
Pau giggles, still catching his breath. “Stop, Joshie. No, don’t,” he says while he twists his limbs around Josh’s. He pulls on his arm wrapped around his waist, tugging it even tighter. “Oh, honey, you’re still so… hard. What a waste. But we need… to… hnghh… Josh!”
Josh slides his hand lower, gripping Pau’s cock. He continues to grind from behind, his lips still kissing Pau’s neck in torrents, like a hundred thousand butterflies. “Can’t… get… enough…” Josh mutters in between his thrusts.
“Honey… oh… oh… we’ll wreck this bed… oh… oh…” Pau moans and giggles, the heat in his body rising again.
“I don’t care. God… god… you’re the prettiest thing in my… life… oh…”
Josh stops grinding, clutching on harder to Pau. When they break away, a film of sweat glistens on Josh’s abs, and Pau just gasps.
“Look at that,” Pau whispers, wetting his lips. “Mine. All mine.”
Josh smiles at him, nodding. “Yes and yes. Now come, hon. Let’s get moving.”
He stands up from the bed. “Some coffee would be nice. Please, Pau-Pau. Hop in the shower.”
“What do you mean, you won’t shower with me?” Pau shifts so he’s now half-sitting on the bed, crossing his arms against his bare chest.
“No, hon. Please stop pouting at me like that. Go first. If we go together… Fil would have to kick the door down.” Josh laughs.
“Carry me. I can’t walk.” Pau whispers under his breath.
Josh exhales, smiling exasperatedly. “Come on, Paulo. Use your third leg,” he says, smirking with a wink. He grabs a towel, tossing it on Pau, and then tugs him off the bed.
Pau scoffs. “Third leg, really? Fil’s rotting that brain of yours.” He drags himself off the bed, and Josh pushes him to the shower.
God, how he glows. Josh smiles to himself.
Chapter 24: In All the Ways it Shows Up
Summary:
When home finally becomes not just a place, but a practice <3
Chapter 24/24 of "HOME", a fucking #Sejosh EPIC :3
Notes:
[[ THANK YOU VERY MUCH FOR STICKING THROUGH. I NEVER THOUGHT I COULD ACTUALLY FINISH IT, BUT I DID, AND I'M SO GRATEFUL. May we all find a love like this— something that may not necessarily make us detonate, but exhale <3]]
[[GNA MISS PAU-PAU AND JOSHIE HUHU IDK LMK IF U WANT A PART 2 LOL But if I do that even without you asking, know that i'm in withdrawal from P/J... but probably always will be Hahaha]]
I'm on X if you want to engage: @luna_in_limbo :))))
Chapter Text
🎧 FOR THE MOOD:
PERHAPS LOVE - Eric Nam, CHEEZE
HAPPY W U - Arthur Nery, Jason Dhakal
💿 FULL MIXTAPE:
Josh takes Pau to the fifth floor of the hotel, where they are currently serving afternoon tea. Josh is in a black dress shirt, grey trousers, black dress shoes. His reading glasses sit snugly on the bridge of his pointed nose.
“Honey,” Pau whispers. “You look like you own this place.” Josh smiles, feeling his cheek turn pink. The server assigned to them leads them to their table. Josh pulls a chair for Pau, a hand briefly touching the small of his back. The server tries to hide her grin to the side.
Pau is wearing a purple D&G silk pussy bow shirt, carefully looped. Flared burgundy pants and brown dress shoes, the ones Josh hurriedly packed before they left the apartment. His hair is half-tied, but not with the purple scrunchie. This one is brown and velvet. Dior.
Josh takes his seat and scans through the menu, peeping at Pau behind the iPad’s screen. “That shirt’s a lovely color on you, hon. Is that new? I haven’t seen that before.” Josh smiles.
Pau gently tugs on the edges of his shirt’s bow. “Nice, isn’t it? It’s D&G. I used your card and ordered it when you slept on me last week.”
“Fil send you the link, honey? You barely care about this shit.” Josh chuckles. The server shifts her gaze between the two men, almost wanting to break protocol and let out a scream. She’s a fan of Saja, and these two, with all of her luck, are her favorites.
“Hi, sorry,” Josh turns to the server, smiling sweetly. “Just this set, please.”
Pau pouts from across the table. “What do you mean, ‘just this set’? I wanna choose!”
Josh sighs and nods at the girl, mouthing It’s okay, motioning for her to leave. The lady chuckles soundlessly, nodding once at Josh, and when Pau lifts his head from the iPad, she’s gone.
“Where’d she go?” he asks, the pout never leaving his face.
“You’re gonna take forever. She has to work.”
Pau crunches his nose. Josh notices the scrunchie. “Thing on your hair, hon. New, too? Where’s your favorite purple one?”
“Oh, this?” Pau lights up. “This is from Yves, for my birthday. Dior. Velvet. So I look more grown up, he says.”
“You’d eat up fashion week, Pau, with all your bougie stuff,” Josh teases.
“I’m hungry. Don’t start.”
They finish up the afternoon tea and get to the Prada store some five minutes early. The attendants welcome them in, leading them into a private room. Josh smiles at everyone, already losing Pau to a shelf of brooches. He whips up his phone to message their GC.
Josh:
"TF’s everyone? This a set-up?"
Fil:
"Relax daddy im literally 6 steps away"
Ves:
"horndogs have small feet"
Josh:
"🤣🤣 pls come bfore Pau breaks something here"
Ves:
"Just pay for it then"
Josh:
"Left my wallet upstairs 😜"
Fil:
"The audacitrkrnr;ln"
A few minutes later, Fil finally strides in, sunglasses still on indoors. Yves and Jah closely trail behind him, both relaxed and softly glowing from the spa.
“You smell like a girl, horndog. Where have you been?” Josh teases.
“Shut up,” Fil grumbles, then waves at the attendants. “These clueless morons are my friends. Please help them. Each moron gets one piece they like.”
Fil hands two of his credit cards to a shop assistant. “Ring all of that here, please and thank you.” The shop assistant smiles widely and nods.
Pau immediately points to two enamel brooches shaped like flowers on the glass shelf.
“This one, this one, and oh my god… look at that Joshie, it’s a biiirddd…”
“Pau. One. You heard horndog.”
Pau rolls his eyes and pouts. “Fine. Not that one then.” He then moves on to a shelf filled with scarves. Josh watches him, all soft and amused at the sight. Every delighted sound he’s making sounds like a pretty bird chirping in his ear.
Fil nudges him. “No, Jawline. You don’t get to buy this whole store for him tonight.”
Josh chuckles softly. “He’s so happy, Fil. Thank you.”
“Yuck. Go. Pick something for yourself.”
Yves picks a pair of square sunglasses for the way he says it frames his face so flatteringly. Jah picks up a multi-colored beanie that almost covers half of his face.
Yves snickers at Jah’s reflection in the mirror. “It should not work, Jah, but it does. You look like a happy alien. It’s so your brand.”
Jah keeps touching the beanie on his head. “I will never take this off even if all of you fight me,” he whispers.
Josh ends up with a black card holder in Nappa leather.
“C’mon, man,” Fil shrugs. “You don’t want another white shirt? You sick?”
“No, he doesn’t,” Pau says absent-mindedly from across the room, his eyes never leaving a printed scarf in the corner.
Josh turns to Fil with a sheepish smile.
“Right, right,” Fil says. “Happy wife, happy life.”
“That did not come from my mouth, just for the record,” Josh quips, his arms across his chest.
Pau half-runs to them, holding an iridescent shantung scarf printed with multi-colored flowers. Josh squints his eyes.
“This, oh my god, Fil. This, please,” he says, almost out of breath.
“As you wish.”
The staff pack their choices, and Fil gestures to an attendant. “Alright. One more.”
The attendant brings out two slim black boxes. Inside the boxes, metal rings in white gold, small heart pendants dangling from them. Pau gasps, two hands covering his mouth.
The room goes still for a bit.
“These are for you two,” Fil says, nodding toward Pau and Josh. “Don’t fucking argue. Just… take it. My gift. Might come in handy when you decide to get married someday.”
Josh blinks, caught off guard. Pau tugs on Josh’s sleeve, lips twitching between a pout and a smile.
Yves and Jah both wipe tears forming at the corners of their eyes.
“Fuck you, horndog. Don’t die on me, please,” Josh mutters under his breath.
“Motherfucker. You’re the one who’s old,” Fil smirks, but his eyes are softer than his words.
The shopping bags feel like trophies as they walk through polished halls back to their room. Pau keeps glancing down at the scarf box in his arms, smiling to himself, while Josh lugs the rest of their bags with an amused shake of his head.
Fil tells everyone they have twenty minutes to change. When they reach their suite, the boys quickly scatter. Yves and Jah disappear into their room with satisfied giggles, and Fil tosses his sunglasses onto the couch before vanishing into the bathroom. Josh catches Pau already halfway to their door, the box of his scarf already discarded on the floor before he even enters their room.
Josh locks the door behind them, watching as Pau lays down his new scarf on the bed, staring at it like it’s a sparkly comet that fell out of the sky. He hears Pau muttering under his breath, “It’s so pretty,” and Josh just feels himself melting again, right there and then.
“Hon,” Josh calls to Pau, careful not to break his trance. “Are you gonna change?”
“No. But can you please come closer, Joshie?”
Josh walks toward him, a bit confused. When Pau turns around, he loops the new scarf around Josh’s neck, tying it into a simple knot.
Pau gasps, his eyes wide with delight. “Oh, honey. Perfect. My devil wears Prada.”
Josh feels his cheeks turn pink again, squirming a bit against the softness of the silk around his neck, its loud flowers feeling like an anomaly against his sharpness. “But this is yours, honey,” he softly protests.
“So?” Pau says, cupping his face. “You’re mine too.”
Josh feels like he’s going to combust with all the love in his chest, but before he can answer, Pau is already spraying both of them with their perfume.
“You deserve color, Josh. I love you.”
***
The boys make their way to the private dining room Fil has reserved prior. The room is dimly lit with round paper lanterns hanging on its low ceilings, a round table draped in crisp white linen at its center. The server pours champagne into the boys’ flute glasses as Pau and Josh arrive.
Fil clocks the scarf tied on Josh’s neck first. “Oh my god. Jawline Barbie, now with a floral leash. Each part sold separately.”
Yves smirks beside a beaming Jah, who leans across the table to touch the soft silk on Josh’s neck. Pau nudges Josh as if to say, “Let the boy touch it.”
Josh turns almost as pink as the flowers on his scarf, which has Fil hollering even more. Every time Josh squirms, Pau adjusts the scarf just a bit, quietly beaming.
The appetizers get served, and Yves raises his glass to toast. “To the birthday boy,” he smiles sweetly, “And to Fil, for finally learning how to use his credit cards wisely.”
Pau’s eye sparkles, mouthing a quiet “thank you” to everyone. Josh turns to him, smiling, his hand quietly rubbing Pau’s knee under the table.
The main course arrives, and Yves laughs when he sees it’s a chicken dish.
“Can’t miss who booked this fancy place,” he says, laughing.
“Ves, that’s gilded in gold and shipped here from Tokyo. Thank your ancestors,” Fil rebuts.
Pau jolts a bit upon hearing the city, almost unnoticeably. Remembers how, seemingly so long ago, he crawled back into Josh’s bed at 2 am, all fucked up with nothing much else to offer but hurts and almosts. How Josh just took him in without saying a word. Just loving and loving him, even back then, when he knew he wasn’t any better than a ghost.
Josh clears his throat at the table, a quiet signal to Pau that he’s there, and Pau feels Josh’s hand find his under the table. Pau turns to look at him, eyes flickering with a sadness that quickly passes. Josh leans in a bit and whispers to him, “It’s okay, hon. That was so long ago.”
Pau exhales softly, trying not to cause a scene. He dips his head low for a bit and nods once at Josh. He quickly presses a pinkie finger to the corner of his eye, trying to dry a teardrop that’s already formed.
Jah shifts his head, his eyes suddenly filled with worry. “Why are you crying, Pau?”
The table quiets a bit, everyone waiting for Pau to speak. Josh puts an arm around him, no longer caring if the boys see.
“Just happy, Jah. I’m okay,” Pau says, smiling at everyone with three lifetimes’ worth of feelings.
“I think you’re more than just happy, Hair,” Fil clears his throat. “You’re walking with a limp. Room soundproof enough to your liking?”
The boys laugh, Jah covering his ears.
“You wanna try how ‘soundproof’ with me? Make you finally live your dream?” Josh asks, chuckling, in between sips of his wine.
Pau jabs Josh’s side with an elbow. “Careful, Josh. He’s not good with competitions.”
Fil grimaces, gesturing to the server. “Please serve the dessert now. My mouth tastes bitter.” His glance on Josh’s arm casually looped around Pau’s shoulder not faltering for a bit.
The server returns with five small bowls of Sakura ice cream, each bowl with a small Sakura tree made of sugar carefully sticking on its side. Jah asks if the tree is edible, eyes wide in delight, but before anyone can answer him, all the servers come to their table, the chef being last in the line.
The chef gently carries a purple cake with lighted sparklers carefully arranged around it. “Taro Yam Cake, especially requested and made for you, Sir Pau. May you always have the happiest of birthdays.” The chef says with a smile. Pau tugs at Josh’s sleeve again, whispering, “It’s purple, Joshie. Wow.”
“Yeah, hon. Like your favorite scrunchie. This is all Fil,” Josh whispers back, softly caressing Pau’s back.
The boys stand up from the table, and the whole room sings a sweet “Happy Birthday To You” to Pau. Pau tears up, widely smiling, clapping his small claps. When the song ends, Yves gently reminds him to blow out the sparklers and make a wish.
Pau closes his eyes for a bit, then blows the sparklers. The room claps, and Fil and Josh shake the hands of the server and the chef, agreeing to take a group picture with the staff.
Fil catches Josh mouthing “I love you” to Pau, one hand resting softly on the small of his back, and Pau smiling shyly at him. Fil turns to Yves, wanting to check if Yves has also seen it, or if he’s really just hallucinating with how much he has spent for the day. Yves just smiles at him with a wink and nods.
Confirmed. God damn. They’re really back.
The room settles, and the boys go quiet for a bit. Fil opens their fourth bottle of champagne, quietly gesturing to the server that it’s okay, that he can top up his brothers’ flutes himself.
“So…” Fil starts as he pours champagne into Josh’s flute. “When did this happen, bro?”
Josh blinks, then stretches his neck. He feels Pau’s hand instinctively press on his knee under the table. “When did what happen?” he casually asks, betraying the low thumping in his chest.
“You. Pau. Again,” Yves suddenly says.
Jah shifts his stare across the boys, fidgeting in his seat.
Josh exhales, long enough for the seconds to feel like hours. “I love him, guys. I will always love him.”
Pau launches into ugly sobs beside him. “Why are you crying so much, Pau?” Yves asks, concerned.
“I love him too. So much.” He answers in between sobs.
The boys melt, and Fil closes his eyes. After a few minutes, Jah starts crying too. Yves hands Jah the glass of water beside him without looking. Jah gulps the whole thing and then reaches for Yves’ champagne glass, gulping it next without pausing for a beat.
Fil turns to Jah, shocked. “You want the whole bottle, Jah?”
Jah wordlessly nods, snot forming out of his nose.
“Why couldn’t you just tell me, Jawline? I didn’t have to spend this much,” Fil looks longingly at Josh.
Josh smiles, holding Pau’s hand finally on top of the table, within everyone’s view. Yves looks at Pau with an approving smile, as if he’s saying, “Good job, you.” Pau smiles back at him, his head casually leaning into Josh’s shoulder.
Josh addresses the table. “We’re sorry… that we didn’t tell you sooner. I don’t know… I guess, we just… thought you guys knew?”
“Still hits different coming from your own mouth, though,” Yves smirks. “We’re happy you’re happy. That’s one thing you’ll always have to know.”
“How beautiful you two are. Wow,” Jah softly says, his tears all dried up. “I’m so happy.”
“Yeah, boy, look at you bounce,” Fil retorts. “Feels so fucking light now, doesn’t it?” he says to the couple. “With us, you’ll never have to hide.”
Josh nods at Fil, smiling. “Thank you, bro. Can I kiss you?” he chuckles.
Fil looks at him, disgusted. “I don’t know, bro. Ask your wife.”
“You can schedule your cuddles with him when I’m tired,” Pau says, laughing like a child.
Three days later, Josh and Pau drive quietly to HQ, their hands linked firmly between the seats. They wanted to put this off as long as they could, not because Yra was cruel, but because they knew he was the exact opposite. Yra, who had always been steadfast and loyal, quietly shielding them from all sides even without being asked, even beyond the demands of his job. Pau feels the weight of that as he stares at the looming glass façade of the building, his fingers clinging tightly to Josh’s, so sharply Josh flinches a bit.
Josh kills the engine, squeezing his hand once before they step out of the car. “He will understand, hon. He always does.”
They schedule the meeting formally, coming in wearing suits, both their shirts pressed to perfection. Pau’s hair tied up in a clean bun, no stray hairs in sight, his purple scrunchie sitting quietly in his trousers’ pocket, ready to be depended upon.
They walk through the marble lobby, each click of their polished shoes echoing louder than usual, looking straight out of a magazine. Employees glance up and gasp, but quickly avert their eyes in awe of the strong singularity of their bosses — their CEO and his natural partner — the steadiness and quiet strength of their strides feeling like a trance that envelops the whole of HQ.
When they enter Yra’s office, he is already standing behind his desk, sleeves rolled, with his tie loosened. He looks at them for a beat longer than necessary, gaze flicking from Pau’s composed bun to Josh’s steady hand still at his side. He offers them his warm smile, pulling at the corners of his mouth a bit measured this time.
“Three days late. I thought this was urgent,” Yra says, half-teasing, half-serious. He motions for them to sit, his voice calm but deliberate.
Josh almost wants to chuckle, but Pau only bows his head slightly, accepting the gentle scold. Pau takes the seat across from him, Josh in the other chair, shoulders squared but soft. The silence hangs thick in the room, and Pau reaches for his scrunchie in his pocket, latching onto it.
Josh clears his throat, his baritone grounding the room. “Yra… we need to tell you something. We wanted you to hear it from us first. Not from a headline. Not from Fil’s big mouth. From us.”
Yra sits still, unblinking, waiting for what Josh has to say.
Pau inhales deeply, his fingers twitching inside the pocket of his trousers. “We’re back together,” he says, his voice quieter than he means it to be, but his eyes catch Yra’s, straight and unwavering.
Yra leans back slowly, steepling his fingers, eyes darting between the two of them. His lips curl into the faintest smile. “Finally,” he says, letting off a sharp exhale he has been holding for so long.
The couple blinks at him, surprised, but relieved. Josh exhales. Pau manages a soft laugh coming through his nerves.
“You think I was born yesterday? I have eyes. I have seen it all, all these years.” Yra continues, softer now, almost fond. He shakes his head, chuckling under his breath. “It’s exhausting to watch. But I’m glad. I’d marry you if I could. So… all good. This is good. How do you want it to play out? I’d imagine you’d want the world to know. Or you don’t. And that’s also good. But whatever it is, you’re ready, right?”
Josh nods, squeezing Pau’s hand openly now. “We’re ready. As long as his hand’s in mine.”
Yra studies them once more, then nods once. He sighs and picks up his pen. “Then let me do what I do best. I’ll handle the fallout, the timing, the optics. You two—just keep standing like this. Just keep showing up. Side by side. Work with me, boys, it may be one hell of a ride. But we’ve had years of practice, right?”
For the first time since walking in, Pau breathes out a genuine smile.
A week later, after the HQ meeting with Yra, the boys are ushered into one of the city’s biggest studios for a live guesting to be streamed on the internet as part of the brand’s anniversary campaign. The endorsement is for one of their longstanding brand partners, so close to the boys’ hearts, the country’s flagship airline carrier. The one who had carried them across continents and brought them home for every tour, who built their image on the same thing Saja embodied: the best of the Filipino. The same airline that took Josh to Taipei, and the same one that brought Pau home to Manila, too.
The show started with a short sit-down interview, asking the boys about their respective journeys. The boys, all decked up in locally designed, high-fashion navy suits, perform three of their latest singles, to the point, to the letter. All energy, passion, and artistry, the staff watching in sheer awe, pulling out their phones to capture moments, watching five young kings dismantle the room with devastating talent within arm’s reach. When the boys are done, the room fills with a thunderous applause.
By the time the cameras start rolling for the finale, the studio lights dim to a warm gold. Two stools are seen in the middle of the stage, with two simple microphone stands close in front of them. This is a request from the airline’s CEO himself, a stripped performance from any two of the members. When the boys were told of the request, everyone knew it could only be Pau and Josh.
Josh steps out first, in a black silk shirt, an acoustic guitar slung comfortably against his frame. The straps are outfitted with something else the public hasn’t seen, a shantung scarf printed with multi-colored flowers, tied up loosely in a soft bow that gently drapes over the guitar’s body.
The rest of the boys sit off-camera, waving at the staff from time to time, quietly posing for selfies. Pau enters, wearing a black silk shirt, printed with flowers the color of deep mauve, echoing the scarf tied up on Josh’s guitar. His long hair effortlessly flows down, the purple scrunchie on his wrists visible again to everyone when he picks up his mic.
Josh strums the first chords, and Pau begins to sing, his voice steady, fragile, but alive. The lyrics are new, something no one’s heard before, and the boys look at each other a bit confused.
“Almost got the best of me
Pressure kept piling on
So bad I almost broke
You covered all the pain with gold”
Pau glances at Josh, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. Josh nods at him, blending with his own voice, clear but full of feeling.
“I finally see me, the way that you see me
I finally feel me, the way that you feel me
You build me up ten feet tall
And it took me this long to notice
The way that you… see me”
The song ends with the audience stunned, holding their hearts in their hands. Jah hugs Fil beside him, and Fil doesn’t flinch, mesmerized against his will. Pau addresses the crowd.
“Hope you liked that new song I wrote just recently. The title is ‘See Me’.”
Josh glances up at him like he cannot believe it. The crowd finally gasps, then erupts in cheers, like they have witnessed a miracle before their very eyes.
“Thank you very much for inviting us all here. While we may not all have the smoothest journeys…” Pau pauses, his throat almost locking at the sudden memories of the past years. Airports, luggage, mismatched mugs, and oversized plushies. “…may we all have that someone who makes it all worth it.”
He glances at Josh, just a flick of the eyes, a whole lifetime in half a second, but the cameras catch it anyway. Josh feels his ear turn pink, bowing his head once in quiet acknowledgement, as if to say, Yeah. That’s me.
“Thank you very much again. Josh, on the guitars.”
Josh presses a palm to his heart and tips his head in reverence.
“We are SAJA. Have a good night, everyone.”
Back in the dressing room, far from everyone’s eyes, Pau locks Josh into a tight hug. “We’ve made it, honey. We’ll make it through.”
Josh pulls away to kiss the tip of his nose. “Thank you, honey. Thank you,” he whispers.
Pau gets out of the grip to get something from the inner pocket of his suit. “Look, hon…” he says, as he pulls out the green Moleskine Josh gave him for his birthday. He flips the pages in front of him until he lands on one filled with lyrics in his loopy handwriting.
“I wrote those… lyrics here. You said… I could write anything here. Just me. Just true. You’re my anything, honey. The truest thing about me is you.”
Josh hugs him again, tighter this time, whispering into his hair, “Fill out that notebook, Pau. I will always stay right here with you.”
The boys barely have a moment to themselves when the handlers usher them to the adjacent hall where the press waits. They are greeted with congratulatory handshakes and quick bows, the room filled with industry people feeling lucky to be in the presence of young legends in the making.
Pau still clutches the green Moleskine in his hands, all the more noticeable with how his knuckles have turned white. Josh reaches for his pocket and whips out Pau’s scarf he had quickly removed from his guitar earlier. He pauses for a bit to wipe at the sweat forming on Pau’s temples.
“I’m here, Josh. Let me do that,” the makeup artist steps in quickly with a warm smile, pressing on blotting paper to Pau’s face.
Yra pulls the boys aside before they sit down in front of the press. “You all did well. You will do well. Just do you,” and he pushes the boys to walk into the spotlight, the murmur of anticipation thick in the air.
The boys take their seats behind a long table draped with white cloth, and in the background, the airline logo plays on an LED screen in a loop.
The first questions come and are fairly standard. The boys are asked about their current journeys in particular, where SAJA is heading next, possible tour stops, and other possible collaborations. The boys answer in jest charmingly, the press basking in their often talked-about authenticity. Yves talks about another possible dance track, and Jah talks about guesting in a local fantasy series on TV, his favorite. Fil starts to tease about a possible fashion show collaboration with one of the country’s top designers, and jokes that everyone should get tickets because Josh may turn out actually not wearing any clothes.
The boys snicker at the table, and the press laps it up. The audience on the live stream floods the stream with frenzied comments, and local stations pause their canned broadcasts for a while to show SAJA’s press conference happening live.
A lady from Billboard raises her hand to ask. “You seem to be in a very good place now, Pau. A new song, the purple scrunchie always on your wrist. Do you know it has its own fan club now? They’re calling your scrunchie the sixth member of SAJA.”
Pau chuckles, tugging at his scrunchie. “This is a gift… but also a homecoming of some sort. I’m good. I’m happy. I’m contented, but hungry for more. I’m…” he pauses a bit, throwing a glance at Josh. “…home.”
Josh stares at him unflinching, oblivious to anything else. He breaks into a grin, mouthing to Pau, “You’re my home, too.”
The lady pauses, a hand to her mouth. “I think I can speak for the room, Pau, that we’re all rooting for SAJA. That we’re all happy for you.”
Josh lowers his head, the smile never leaving his face. Pau leans in just the slightest to him, their shoulders touching, his wide smile dimming the cameras flashing all over the place.
The news cycles go haywire in the following days. Countless fan edits of Pau and Josh’s press con interaction flood the internet, and the hashtag #YoureMyHomeToo trends nationwide for 5 straight days. Neither Pau nor Josh denied or confirmed anything, and they let the respectful whispers come, unyielding. They get more spotted in public doing mundane things— grocery shopping, laughing at coffee shops, and almost hand-holding at gas stations. Their agency releases just one statement surrounding the frenzy.
“We are deeply grateful for the love and support shown to SAJA and its members. We kindly ask everyone to respect their personal journeys, as we remain committed to supporting them in every step of their careers. We continue to believe in music, in SAJA, and in love— in all the ways life asks of it of us, and in all the ways it shows up.”
New articles get published about Pau and Josh and that fateful press conference every single day that followed, and the agency has stopped keeping track. The media reports respectfully, in quiet support of a truth that perhaps no longer needs any more words.
Billboard PH:
“Saja’s comeback press conference wasn’t just about their music — sharp-eyed fans caught what seems to be a sweet exchange between leader Pau and co-leader Josh. While no official statements were made regarding their relationship, fans have long speculated about the closeness between the two. Pau called Manila his home, and Josh, seen smiling softly, appeared to mouth something in return. Whether it was friendship or something more, one thing’s for sure: the chemistry between these two remains as one of the group’s best dynamics.”
Music Pulse Asia:
“Fans of Saja have always adored the on-stage synergy and off-stage closeness of Pau and Josh, lovingly dubbed #PauJosh. During their presser for PAL, Pau spoke openly about his scrunchie, about being home, and Josh — in what looked like an unguarded moment — responded with what fans believe to be a loving affirmation. Until the idols speak on it themselves, the moment remains beautifully open to interpretation.”
At home, one quiet night, Pau sits at their kitchen counter scrolling through the tweets on his phone. He reads through it, smiling at some, softly chuckling at the others.
@filthyves: STATEMENT SAID “WE BELIEVE IN LOVE” HELLOOO??? corporations have never slayed harder, TY YRA here king you dropped this 👑👑👑
@jawlinebarbie1999: JOSH SAID #YOUREMYHOMETOO YES RIGHT THAT’S WHAT HE SAID NOBODY CHANGE THE RULES #joshfuckingrules
@alienbeanieJAH: current mood is waiting for Jah to be flowerboy at their wedding
@paujoshtruther: where were u when love happened in 4k? I was crying at Buendia LRT and Manong Fishball was crying with me #youremyhometoo #real #legit #sailing
When a fan-cam edit rolls into his timeline of Josh mouthing “You’re my home too” slowed down, Pau feels his throat tighten, his eyes sting. He quickly presses his thumb to the corner of his eyes before it falls, and he calls to Josh, preparing coffee across him.
“Joshie… Josssshhh!!!” he shrieks.
Josh turns to him, surprised. “I’m here, Pau. I’m so near. Why are you screaming?”
“Look at thissssss!!!” and he shoves his phone in front of Josh’s amused face.
“Okay, it’s a video, hon? What about it?”
“We’re so cuuuuuttteeee,” Pau hisses with pure glee.
Josh shakes his head, smiling. He walks back to the counter to get their coffee, now in matching mugs, finally.
They finish their breakfast, not saying much, Josh just looking at Pau scrolling through his phone, listening to his chuckles that echo across the room every so often.
Pau disappears into the bathroom, still humming fragments of his new song under his breath. Josh stays in the kitchen, the last sip of coffee cooling in his mug, his other hand digging into the pockets of his sweatpants. His fingers curl around the small velvet box he’s kept hidden for weeks now, thumb brushing over the edges like a prayer he never dared to say out loud.
He hears Pau’s bare footsteps pad softly against the floor. He closes his eyes, his chest thumping.
Pau reappears, his face fresh and damp from washing. He yawns, still scrolling absently through his phone, giggling at the things he reads. He almost misses Josh, on the floor, kneeling on one knee in front of him. In his hand, a simple platinum band with a tiny diamond in the center.
The phone slips from Pau’s hand onto the counter with a soft clatter. He gasps, collapsing to the floor in tears.
Josh looks up at him, eyes steady, voice low and warm as a Sunday morning sun.
“Hey, honey,” he says, smiling sweetly.
“Will you marry me?”
end :)
ChickenSaFreezer on Chapter 19 Mon 01 Sep 2025 04:49PM UTC
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Luna_in_Limbo on Chapter 19 Sat 06 Sep 2025 05:34PM UTC
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gnayiar on Chapter 24 Sun 19 Oct 2025 03:28PM UTC
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Luna_in_Limbo on Chapter 24 Sun 19 Oct 2025 03:55PM UTC
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