Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"Boom," he whispers against my lips, just like he always does when he's about to come undone. It's the familiar signal to make me moan louder, and I do. Our voices rise, our groans filling the room, louder than Alex Turner singing, 'Maybe I'm too busy being yours to fall for someone new'. His thrusts grow harder, more desperate, until he finally shudders, panting as he reaches his climax.

He sinks down beside me as I still sense the warmth of his body against mine, then lazily reaches for the cigarette pack in the nightstand drawer. I sigh, half in surrender, half in longing, as he lights one. "Even when_" I start, my eyes rolling, expecting him to at least glance at me, but he doesn't. Instead, he inhales deeply, lips curling around the filter, then exhales slow ribbons of smoke that slip through his fingers. His eyes stay fixed on the ceiling, unfocused, while pale circles of smoke unfurl above us, dissolving into the dim air between our breaths.

Am I surprised? Offended? Not in the slightest. By now, it has become a monotonous, rusted script we both know too well. I never lay the blame on either of us. Instead, I hold our careers responsible for draining us of every drop of feeling. I tell myself the characters I embody devour all the emotions I could ever have, leaving me hollow, numb. Is it the same for him? I may have an answer, if only he speaks to me more often than he fucks me.

"Another round?" he finally breaks the silence, and I almost wish he hadn't. A part of me still resists surrendering to the predictable end of our intimacy. And so, I let this voiceless instrument keep playing, singing along to a rhythm that was never really there.

Love, for me, had always been him until love stopped covering for his actions. Until he fell into a debt of tenderness, he no longer dared to repay.

"Smart's on his way to pick me up. I should make myself ready," I say, even though I'm aware, we still have two hours till then, but I have no interest in another round of this tasteless flavour of nothing.

"I thought yesterday was the last day of shooting. What is he coming for now?" His voice shifts, low and measured. Is that a flicker of jealousy in his tone? Unlikely. We shed that kind of ownership over each other long ago. Still, I catch something in his eyes.

He's never minded the videos I've posted with Smart lately, in fact, he hasn't even bothered to show an ounce of jealousy when Smart and I get close on set. Fan service is nothing new in our industry, and he knows it better than anyone. He stands among the cast of my series with Smart, after all. Maybe he just wants to be on the ship. Maybe he wants to matter again. To be in the picture.

"You know, we're filming a video for YouTube. Just a random vlog," I say softly.

"No, I don't know. Starting the fan service shit earlier than you should, aren't you?" His tone carries a quiet challenge.

"What's with it, Peanut?" I murmur, letting the name slip between us intimately.

"Nothing, Boom. Enjoy yourself," he replies with a low voice, almost a sigh, as he drags his legs towards the shower aimlessly.

I don't follow him. Instead, I linger on the bed, searching for my phone. My fingers hesitate over it for only a moment before I decide. I need to call Smart and ask if we can postpone it. Tonight, I'm not ready to give in to Peanut's moods. Not yet.

After minutes of wrestling with my thoughts, unsure whether to delay or not, I finally decide to call him.

It doesn't take Smart one ring to pick up my call. "Smart," I murmur hesitant."Phi Boom. How do you feel today? Excited for our vlog? Cause I am!" His voice is warm, teasing, and hearing it somehow makes my heart heavier.

"Smart. I_ I actually," My words stutter. "Phi Boom? I can't hear you well. Hello?"

"Who are you talking to?" Peanut interrupts softly, as he's brushing his hair with the black towel he once hated. I hang up, sensing Smart won't be able to catch my words anyway.

"It's Smart. I called to postpone our vlog," I admit quietly before I drift toward the bathroom, bare skin trailing the dim hallway air. Peanut's still-wet arm drapes over my hips, a quiet weight of possession, like a claim I don't want but can't reject.

"Really?" he asks with a teasing voice and a smirk hidden in it.

I smile faintly, though my chest feels heavy. "Yeah, I'm a little exhausted anyway. I'd rather call it a day."

His head tilts to my shoulder, lips brushing my skin with gentle warmth. "I love you, Boom."

Do you? I want to ask. But I don't have the energy for another repetitive argument.

"I love you too, Peanut," I whisper, though the words almost feel borrowed.

His kiss deepens, drawing me closer. The towel at his waist slips, revealing more of him. I pull back slightly, my breath catching. "I'm really exhausted. I'm sorry."

"It's okay," he murmurs against me. "Go take a shower. I'll have to leave anyway cause Yetoai and Pleng have been waiting. "

I nod, watching his shadow melt into the dim hallway light. My gaze lingers, tracing the way his presence fades like my feelings for him, dissolving quietly into darkness.

I don't know till what point I can hold on to something no longer exists. But the memories we've made, they haunt me. Enough to make the idea of leaving everything we once had behind suffocating to even think of.

 

+++

 

It's been two hours since Peanut left, and I'm still sprawled in bed in nothing but my boxers. I thought letting cold water run down my skin would ease the noise in my head, but instead, it numbed every single inch of me. Now, there's nothing but a voiceless war rattling in my bones.

My phone keeps buzzing, but I don't bother checking who is calling. I've come back only to emptiness. Playing Akin's character let me feel the full force of emotions too much and too little all at once. But the moment I stepped out of Akin, I'm back to Boom. Back to the void.

The doorbell slices through my thoughts, and for a second, I wonder if I'm imagining it. I'm not used to unannounced visits. Could it be Peanut already regretting the way he was possessive about me and Smart? already guilty for running to meet the very person I suspect he has something with?

I drag myself to the door, and it's when a faint voice reaches me.
"Phi Boom?"

Smart. Why is he here?

I open the door, too shocked to remember that I'm standing there in nothing but black boxers. His eyes falter, trailing down before they finally climb back to mine.

He coughs, nervous.

I smirk, teasing to cover the heat in my face. "Nothing you haven't seen on set, right?"

I step aside to let him in. "So, what's brought you here?"

"You weren't answering my calls," he says, his voice edged with concern. "And we agreed to film the vlog today. Did you forget?"

"No, I didn't," I say, my voice is lower than I mean it to be. In fact, I've been surprisingly excited to spend today with him. Away from the fans, away from the crowds and cameras. Just us, stripped of everything society piles on. Fully naked, but not in the way people think.

When I first met Smart, I never imagined we, two men as different as two sides of two different coins would end up being a type of comfort zone for each other. The scenes we shared didn't bring us closer; it was the stolen moments on set when we were accidentally alone. The times he brought me coffee. Checked on me. Drove me home. The way his eyes lingered, almost shy, when he thought I wouldn't notice him looking at me. Those are the moments that chipped at my guard, which made my heart lean towards something unnamed. Friendship, maybe. Or something just a little more than what either of us expected.

"I didn't forget," I continue, softer now. "But I was calling to ask if we could delay it. I'm not feeling well today, and filming doesn't feel right." I'm trying to convince myself more than him.

I reach for the grey pants draped over the couch, tugging them up slowly. For a flash of a second, my mind replays why they ended up there in the first place. It was Peanut walking through the door, our heat starting before a word was said. I almost smile, remembering how Peanut didn't even ask how I'd been all week while we were separated by shooting schedules.

Another nervous cough from Smart snaps me back to the room.

I feel him move closer, his warmth brushing the air between us. "It must be hard leaving Akin behind," he says quietly. "I know how much that role meant to you. Do you want to share with me what it feels like?"

His eyes catch mine, and fear crashes into the flicker of passion I've been trying to hide. Can he hear my heartbeat from this close? How does he even know? I've never talked about Akin like that. I've always hidden my own void inside my characters.

"What are you talking about, Smart?" I laugh weakly, trying to shake it off. "Why so dramatic? I'm just exhausted from shooting. And I'm, uh_ a little hungry. Wanna eat something? Should weorder_"

The words scatter before I can grab them.

And then he hugs me.

Just like that, his arms fold around me, pulling me close, drawing me into the heat of him as if to swallow me whole. My own trembling arms fail to respond. I feel heavy and unsteady. My eyes burn, unable to hold back the prisoned tide any longer. At first, the tears fall quietly, almost ashamed, but when his grip on my back tightens, something inside me shatters. The sorrow bursts forth, raw, unrestrained like a child mourning a world lost in a single night. I clutch his shirt with both hands, desperate, silently begging him never to let go.

I have been longing for this. Longing to crumble, to surrender, to weep until that ice mountain inside me begins to dissolve.

"Smart," I choke out, breaking into pieces.

"It's okay, Phi Boom," he whispers gently. "I'm here."

And as simple as that, warmth fills me. For the first time, I feel heard. Seen. And not scared of being judged.

 

+++

 

"Here." He places a cup of herbal tea in my hands and lowers himself onto the couch beside me.

The scene replays in my mind as though lifted from our series. Could it be my tarot cards playing tricks? A fantasy bleeding into reality? Could he be my Jin?

"Thank you," I whisper roughly as my voice is still hoarse from crying. My eyes drift to the bookcase across from us, and I count the books on each shelf in silence, a habit from my younger self to calm myself down.

His hand glides across my back, tender. Familiar. We've touched, even kissed, countless times since our workshop, but always for acting. Akin had been touched by Jin. But now, as Boom and Smart, it feels different. My body responds. A slow tension blooms inside me, praising this closeness. And I do not resist it.

I glance at him.

"Smart, why are you here?"

He withdraws his hand and rests it on his thigh, his fingers curling nervously.

"I told you, phi, you didn't answer my calls and_"

"Smart." I tilt my head to catch his gaze. He is staring at his lap, but his eyes shift when they meet mine, from hesitation to certainty. They glitter, holding the same desperate, hungry passion our characters share, but even deeper.

"I don't know. But_" He swallows hard.

"But," I echo softly.

Our faces draw closer, breaths mingling. No thoughts, no warnings, nothing but this addictive warmth.

"But I want to know," he whispers.

He wants to know, I echo to myself, and the thought itself makes me smile quietly. Unsure if I should. Not considering consequences, as if tomorrow does not exist. If he kisses me now, I will let him. This I know with certainty.

As if he hears my thoughts, his lips lean toward mine. I am about to return the kiss when he pulls away, trembling.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't even think of this. I know you and Peanut are_" He falters, searching for words."I crossed the line. I'm so sorry. Please, forgive me."

I could silence him by pulling him into me by kissing him until he forgets what he's just said. But then he says Peanut's name, a magic word that drags me from that fragile wonderland back to reality. Suddenly I feel like Adam, having tasted the forbidden fruit, denied the chance to fully commit a sin, denied forgiveness, cast out before he could explore heaven, before being able to call even a part of it his.

"Hey, let's not make it a big deal," I murmur, voice soft but certain. "I was also about to_ I mean, let's forget it. Okay?"

I wish he never forgets it. I wish if he could always remember this closeness we almost surrendered to.

He nods quietly, ashamed, frustrated with himself.

"Do you still want to film the vlog?" I break the tension.

"Huh? Now? It's getting dark."

"Maybe a TikTok then?"

"Yes! I have one in mind. Wait, let me show you."

I smile, watching him light up like a child about to play. For the first time since I met him, I truly see him.

He flips through his phone, searching for the video he wants to show me. I study him, the smooth warmth of his skin, the deep almond shape of his dark brown eyes, the sharp yet gentle line of his jaw. His lips, full, slightly parted, rose-tinted, and I feel proud to know very well how they taste.

There's a quiet magnetism about him, effortless yet deliberate, gentle yet dangerous.

I wish I could be braver. To close the space between us. To touch him beyond what our characters dared. To surrender myself and lose my reality in his. I wish he could keep me safe in his arms much longer than he's done.

But how dare someone who has only known pitch black depths hold the lightest star above?

I loved Peanut, or I thought I did. But if this feeling now is something I can't let go of, does it mean I've never truly known love? Or does it mean that Adam was nothing but a sinner?

Chapter Text

“Smart,” I murmur softly, but he doesn’t reply. Something weighs on his mind. We have been in the break room since the interview ended, and not a word has passed between us. Could it be the interviewer had said something that unsettled him? I doubt it. He was gracious, careful not to ask anything that might cause discomfort to either of us.

“Smart. Hey!” My voice sharpens, louder than before. This time, his gaze meets mine.

“Phi Boom. I’m sorry. I wasn’t paying attention.”

“Obviously,” I whisper under my breath. “What’s on your mind?” I ask gently, striving to bridge the silent distance.

He offers a faint smile. “Nothing in particular. I'm just worried about the premiere.”

I do not believe him. We have both wondered if the audience would embrace the series as we do, but that is hardly the cause of his statue-like silence today. Something deeper stirs. He has not been the same since the night we nearly kissed, two weeks ago.

“Don't dwell on it,” I say softly, my voice is steady yet earnest. “I know it will go smoothly. Something wrought from our blood, sweat, and tears can not fail to touch hearts. And you, Smart, you were one of the reasons I cherished Akin. I fell in love with the character once I had seen him through Jin’s eyes, your eyes.”

The last words slip out, and I sense him sinking into our shared gaze. I swallow hard, aware of the intensity between us. His attention drifts briefly to my lips, then returns to my eyes before flitting nervously to his matcha latte. He clutches the cup tightly, restraining himself. I smile inwardly, though I know very well I shouldn’t.

“Shall we head out?” He asks quietly, steering the talk away to lighten our thoughts.

"I still have work to get done. You should leave before me."

“Phi Boom, lately, you haven’t stopped working, even at home you work. Please, grant yourself rest, if only for a weekend.” His voice is tender, an intimacy I have never before heard directed at me.

I take his arm gently. “That is my plan already. Don't worry."

His phone buzzes, drawing his attention. My stomach knots when I see his manager’s name flashing on the screen. Her. Unease coils within me. She is not a bad person, yet there is something about her presence that feels intrusive. Or perhaps I'm again jealous of someone who never belonged to me.

“I have a meeting with my manager,” he says softly.
"Of course," I say, standing up with my laptop in hand, giving him space to leave.

But then he grasps my wrist. “Phi Boom,” I look at him, offering a smile. At last, he is holding on.

“You forgot your phone.”

Damn it. I take it from his hand, smile once more, and slip away before embarrassment can root itself in me. Naturally, I always forget my phone with him. He records our videos, captures our moments, and carries fragments of us wherever he goes. It feels like he’s claiming everything I own, piece by piece, and, unknowingly, gathering pieces of me along with them.

I must take Akin off my skin, for I fear I am breaching a boundary, crossing worlds while standing still. I can not reconcile the truth. Smart is only a co-star, soon to be a ship partner. Nothing more, nothing less.

I open the break room door and tend to step out when his hand curls over mine, closing the door softly. His palm is warm and grounding. My breath catches as his body draws closer, and his breath is grazing my neck.

“Phi Boom,” he whispers. His fingers tighten, gently moving to my arms, guiding me until I face him. Now we stand only a breath apart, and the heat between us is growing louder.

I glance around, checking, though I know we are alone. Since the interview ended, it has been just the two of us here. Once certain, I meet his eyes. A strange gravity pulls me in. I trust him, but I can't trust myself when I sink into his gaze. I know I am capable of being a sinner, and somehow, I believe he would willingly be my accomplice.

“Are you mad at me?” he murmurs, his fingers still resting on my arms, warm and clinging.

“Mad at you?” I repeat softly, searching his face. I know what he means. This conversation, this hesitation, it is an echo of that day, a fragile attempt to dissipate the tension between us. I need him to speak, to unclench what he holds inside.

“That day, when we almost_” His words stumble. And so, I finish them for him. “When we almost kissed?” I whisper, as my voice is slightly trembling.

His eyes drop. He releases my arms slowly, as if letting go of more than just my skin. “I can’t forgive myself that I,” He is trying to state.

“I wanted to kiss you,” I confess quietly, and I watch his pupils widen.

“Stop carrying this alone. It’s ours to bear. I am the one in a relationship, not you, so if there is guilt, it belongs to me. But I don’t want neither of us to carry it, Smart. We are fragile beings. We seek what is forbidden before time is over.”

“No, phi. I should have thought twice before crossing that line. I’ve disrespected not only you but also Peanut.”

The name slips again from his lips. And I already feel a sharp pull in my chest.

“Can I open up to you about something? But don’t think I say this with intention beyond truth. I just feel you may be the only one who understands.”

He nods thoughtfully, and I walk over to turn off the harsh overhead light, leaving only a soft, amber glow. It feels safer this way, easier to speak when I'm more heard than seen.

I sink onto the couch, he follows me, sitting close enough that our knees touch. He does not pull away.

“Peanut and I, we have not been the same for a long time. Even before shooting began. It’s not about you, Smart, or even him. I have never truly felt anything. I thought I held feelings for Peanut. I thought he could change me. He is young, passionate, talented, and caring at times. His fast paces in life were what I thought my emptiness needed to cope through.” My voice cracks, causing a tear to escape my hold.

Without hesitation, he holds my hand with both of his, fingers curling possessively.

“At first, we lived in the thrill of sharing everything, travelling, secret dates, rehearsals, endless talks. We shared a bed until it no longer felt like ours. Even our intimacy became an act of duty.”

I catch his subtle confusion. “Does talking about this make you uncomfortable?” I ask quietly, my thumb brushing the back of his hand.

“No, phi. I fear it hurts you more.”

I smile faintly. “It has always triggered me until I stopped feeling anything at all. And I think, that’s why I became better at acting.” My smile softens into a sad smirk.

He leans closer, his breath is brushing my cheek. “So, when you and Peanut are together_” He hesitates, searching for the right words. “I think I should not be asking this.”

“You could say he gets me hard, but not out of passion—more out of habit, maybe just stress relief. What we share now is nothing beyond the bed. And honestly, I can’t even blame him for the emptiness of the only part left between us, the intimacy, because no one before him ever made me feel it fully either. So maybe the problem has always been me.”

His palm cups my cheek, while his thumb is brushing my skin gently. “It’s not true. We're all different. We're meant to feel differently, and Peanut should understand that.”

“He doesn’t know.”

“What do you mean?” His voice is quiet now.

"I fake it cause I don’t want to hurt him. However, that was never the problem. I could have lived like this. But lately_"

I pause for a breath as words are becoming heavier now to release. "Those little things we used to share no longer exist. Instead, he gives me distance and silence, even when we are together. He acts as if we were a couple drained of feeling, clinging to a bond that doesn't have our name on it.”

“Do you love him?” Smart’s voice is a whisper, almost afraid of the answer.

“I don’t know. I once thought I did. Now, I am lost.”

He draws me into his arms. His chest is warm, and his embrace acts protectively. I let another tear fall, and it is when his hands hold me tighter.

“Why, Smart?”

“Let us imagine the cameras are on now,” he says softly.

“Smart,” I try to resist.

“Akin,” he says, his voice is loaded with intense. The name slips between us like a touch, and my body shivers to it.

“Akin,” he repeats, brushing my hair from my face, before pressing my head softly into his chest.

“Jin,” I breathe out finally, surrendering. Tears stream freely now as I let myself collapse against him.

What is it in you, Smart, that makes me unlock doors in myself I thought I had sealed? And why does it not frighten me to let you in, to expose my weakness so wholly?

 

+++

 

Now that I’m calmer, I look at him, searching for a reaction, for an answer, or a direction. After everything I’ve said, how does he see me? More than that, how does he feel about me now?

“Do you feel any better?” he asks softly.

I shift in his arms, not quite leaving his embrace, tilting my head back so I can look at him directly. “Because of you, I do.”

He smiles until his phone buzzes again.
“Damn. You had a meeting with your manager, didn’t you?” I ask.

He gives me another smile, a little crooked this time, before he tosses the phone onto the armchair. “I’ll handle it later. You come first. Always.”

“Don’t,” I murmur. “Don’t say that word.”

His brows lift. “Always?”

“I hate it.” My voice comes out sharper than I intend. People throw promises like confetti, thinking it’s romantic, until it poisons the very moment they’re trying to adorn. No one who’s ever said it to me has stayed. Not even for two months after. So now I don’t believe in past nor future. I only have now. Now I have him, and I need no reckless vows to ruin that for me.

“You look adorable when you’re mad,” he says, squeezing my cheeks. Somehow, despite myself, I smile.

I’m scared of him, not the kind of fear that makes you run, but the kind that pulls you in. He has the power to shift my moods like tides, and it’s unfair how easily my mind surrenders to his orbit without warning.

Our eyes lock. That restless ache inside me stirs again, hungry for his touch.

“Thank you for sharing all of this, phi Boom,” he says quietly. “I know how heavy it is to carry alone. Sharing it must be even harder.”

I drop my gaze to our knees, holding my tears back. Enough drama for one day.

“It’s not my place to comment,” He whispers. “But I think you should talk things out with Peanut. If you don’t love him anymore, maybe_”

His expression shifts, “I’m sorry,” He murmurs. “I shouldn’t_”

“No. You’re right.” My voice drops lower, more certain. “We should break up.”

His eyes glint with a hope he’s trying to hide, but I catch it even in the dim light.

“Phi Boom.”

“Stop calling me phi,” I say, pointing with my eyes to his arms around me. “Didn’t we cross that line already?”

He smiles shyly. “Boom,”

I know I’ve just invited it, but the way he says my name sends a tremor up my spine. 'Be careful what you wish for' might as well tattoo itself across my ribs when it comes to him.

“You know I like you, right?” he asks.

My whole body flushes. Not just because he said it. I had already felt it, hidden in the little details of his care, but because of how he said it. For a moment, he’s someone else, confident, unshaken, magnetic. And I wonder if he’s ever shown this side of himself to anyone else. The thought twists into jealousy I shouldn’t feel.

“You do?” I ask, and even I can hear how unconvincing my voice sounds. His eyes narrow. As I bet he can tell.

“I shouldn’t be saying this,” he continues. “Not when you’re taken, not when we’re both standing in the wrong. But the feeling’s been eating me alive. It’s growing too fast, and I need to ask,”

He takes my hands, leaning down to meet my eyes.

“If you and Peanut break up, will I have a chance?”

I'm searching his face. A chance? I’ve already crossed the line with him while I’m still with Peanut. Doesn’t that mean he already has a chance?

“Do you think I’m capable of crossing lines with anyone?” I ask as my guilt is flickering through the cracks of my voice.

He strokes my hands with his thumbs with a steady touch. “Boom, if I believed that, it’d make me a homewrecker too, wouldn’t it? But I’m not here because I look down on you. I’m here because I think you’re too good for me. And I need to know, am I good enough for you?”

Relief and a taste of happiness surge through me, and a single tear slips free. He wipes it away before it reaches my jaw.

“Will you give me a chance when you end things with him?”

“Mhm,” I nod.

“Can I have one last hug before we draw the line again?” I ask quietly.

He doesn’t hesitate. His arms tighten around me, warm and sure. “I can’t wait to be yours,” he breathes.

I know we’re both wrong. I know this still counts cheating. But God, how I wish I could live inside these arms of his. How I wish I could claim more than I’m allowed to. If his warmth existed only on earth, I’d jump from heaven without a second thought, fruit, punishment, and luxury be damned. Not even God would stop me.

But Peanut would. And I have to face my fate. I have to end things with him, and to do that, there’s a price to pay. I have to talk to him.

 

+++

 

I come home after texting Peanut that we need to talk, adding 'urgent' just to make sure he’d actually show up. When I reach the door, his umbrella is already propped against the frame. It startles me how quickly he came.

“Peanut?” I call softly as I walk toward the bedroom.

His arms slip around my waist from behind. “I missed you,” he murmurs, breathing me in at the crook of my neck. For a second, fear flickers through me.

“You smell different,” he says. “I love this scent on you.”
No, you don’t, I whisper inside my head.

I twist out of his hold. “I need to take a shower,” I say, sliding toward the bathroom.

“Smart,” he says behind me, and I freeze.

“Is this Smart’s perfume?” he asks.

Heaven clearly doesn’t intend to spare me tonight. How could I forget that he knows Smart’s perfume signature very well that we talked about it on set before, praising his taste in fragrances.

“Yes. We had an interview today, remember?” I lie again, and I hate myself for it.

“Were you that close that I can smell him on your neck?”
He’s right, and I’m still acting like a coward resisting his own fate.

“You’re making this more complicated than it is. I was just with him longer today, maybe he_”

He folds his arms tightly across his chest. He doesn’t believe a word I say.

It’s better to rip the bandage off now.

“We should break up,” I finally say.

His expression turns to a row of question marks. “What?”

“Don’t tell me you don’t see the distance between us. Don’t say you don’t notice how fast we became two men meeting once a week to fuck and calling it a relationship for the sake of a label.”

He takes my hand and leads me into the bedroom!

On the bed rests a massive bouquet of flowers and a golden box of my favorite chocolates, a small card tucked on top. The rest of the room is buried in blooms, petals so thick they hide the floor beneath them. I step across that carpet of flowers and pick up the card from the chocolate box.

'I know it’s been a while since I took good care of you. But I love you, and I’ll do better from now on. Yours.'

“I know we haven’t been the same for a while,” Peanut says. His tone sounds half-blame, half-plead. “But we can still talk it out, Boom. We can fix this.”

“I’ve tried, Peanut,” I whisper. “Every time I try to talk to you, it becomes an argument. And I’m extremely drained.”

“Did you sleep with him?” His voice hardens.

Rage ignites in my veins. I admit to myself I’ve done wrong, it’s cheating, even if some wouldn’t call it that. I should have ended this sooner. But for him to think that? It cuts deep.

“What did you say?” My tone spikes angry and loud.

He looks away.

“Is that what you think of me? Is that all that matters to you?” I snap. “Fuck you.”

For the first time in months, I see guilt flicker in his eyes as he reaches for my arms.

I push him off. “I almost did. And you know what? Right now I wish I had let him claim me entirely,”

Before I can finish, he kisses me. I resist, pull back, but he grabs me again and presses his lips to mine.

“Enough,” I say sharply.

He sinks to his knees among the petals, helpless. “Can’t we just try again?” he whispers, looking up at me. “Can’t you give our love one more chance? Don’t I deserve it?”

I sigh and sit with him on the floral floor, taking his hands. “Peanut, how many times have we already tried?”

“So you’re giving up on us like that? And for what? For Smart? You think he deserves you better than I do?” His voice rises, raw with jealousy.

“It’s not for him. I swear it’s not what you think.”

“Did you kiss?”

“No.” My answer flies out immediately.

“Then what did you mean by ‘almost did’?”

“We hugged, and I felt_” I pause, staring into his eyes. He’s waiting for me to finish, but I know he already senses it. “I felt something more than I should for him.”

His eyes brim with tears. It hurts. I'd thought he’d stopped feeling anything for me, which made it easier to pull away. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe he still cares.

I squeeze his hands tighter. “Peanut,”

“Do you still love me? Did you ever?”

“I did. Of course I did.”

“You did,” he echoes, and I know I’ve given him an answer he never wanted.

“Then let’s break up,” he says at last.

Relief slips through me like a breath I’ve been holding.

“But I have one request,” he adds. “Give me just one month to try to revive us. If I fail, I’ll walk away without looking back.”

I open my mouth to refuse, but he continues, “Nothing will happen. I won’t even touch you. Just let me try, so I don’t have to carry a ‘what if’ after I leave or regret that I didn’t try everything I could.”

I see his begging eyes, but all I can hear is Smart’s voice still echoing in my ears, 'I can’t wait to be yours.'

“Boom, please,” Peanut whispers again.

And I can’t bring myself to reject him. “Okay.” I say.

“Okay?” He repeats, his smile breaking through like sunlight.

I smile faintly back.

I know he won’t be able to bring us back, but the least I can do after what I almost did with Smart is make the breakup gentler. If one month helps, then one month it is.

Chapter Text

Tonight is the night I've been waiting for, the night where every drop of sweat, every restless thought, every ache in my chest finds its purpose. All the chaos inside me, my work, my fear, and my relentless overthinking finally reshapes itself into something larger than me. Akin, the character I play, has lived inside me, claimed me, breathed through me until I could no longer tell where he ends and I begin.

But what makes this night sacred isn't just the promise of a step forward in my career. It's that within this story, I found him. I found Smart. In the quiet moments between takes, when the lights dimmed and the masks fell away, he saw me, bare, unguarded, real. For once, I wasn't performing.

And now, tonight, I will sit beside him in the dark, watching our characters reach for a love, a truth, a salvation I haven't yet been brave enough to touch with him beyond the screen.

"You look gorgeous! Oh my God, Boom. You could kill us with this look." Toey, one of our castmates, exclaims the moment he sees me enter the theatre foyer. I sometimes doubt how I look, but not in a suit like this. Full black, no shirt underneath. I smirk and return the compliment, "Look who's talking, Toey."

That's when I catch the scent; spicy, sharp, and I can't help but smile. I know it's him. My chest tightens in anticipation of his words, his approval. But when I turn,

"How can someone look this fine? Your boyfriend must be the luckiest man alive." Peanut leans in, his voice brushing against my ear. For a second, my eyes flutter closed, disappointment striking me hard that it isn't who I wanted it to be. Therefore, I force a smile, excuse myself, and slip into the restroom.

I stand at the mirror, touching up my makeup, watching the reflection of a man already tired of holding out. Peanut won't stop trying, and it's cruel for us both. I know it's only a matter of time before it breaks, and when it does, I'll no longer carry this unbearable guilt taste in me whenever I think of Smart. Even if not as soon as I want. At least tonight, we have this. Tonight, I'll let myself look at him without restraint.

I push the restroom door open, only to collide with Smart walking in at the same time. His head is lowered, shadows cutting across his face, but when I hold the door for him, he finally looks up. His smile isn't soft. It's as sharp as a blade sliding free from its sheath.

Peanut wears Smart's perfume today, but on Smart, the fragrance doesn't just linger. It commands. It fuses with his skin, warps into something dangerous, like summer lightning breaking through spring air, too electric, too alive.

"I missed you," he says, stepping in closer, his voice is low, heavy, and dragging something primal out of me. My chest tightens, every instinct urging me to run, yet I retreat only enough to let him in. He closes the door without looking back, the click resounding like a decision long settled.

"I missed you so fucking much," he repeats. But this time it isn't confession, it's possession. His hunger is raw and merciless, or maybe it's just how my heart wants it to sound like.

I can't meet his eyes. My gaze drops, flustered, shy. "You look nice," I finally get to say, and it's the truth. He looks like sin wrapped in a black suit, satin ribbon cinched at his waist. Around his neck, short chain glints, tiny black rectangular beads alternating with silver links highlighting his throat, making it look even more irresistible.

He glances down at himself, then at me, smirking. "I dressed like this to look good enough next to you. But somehow, you still manage to steal the spotlight." His tone drops softer. "You're so beautiful, Boom."

This, this is the only opinion I care about. The only one that makes me unravel.

"Do I?" My voice is barely a breath.

He closes the distance, pressing one hand against the wall above my head. The gesture swallows me whole, his presence towering, masculine, and predatory.

"You doubt it?" Heat is flickering in his eyes.

I look up at him with eyes that can't hide my surrender, lips parting as if in silent confession. I give the faintest shrug.

His smirk deepens. "You know this innocence of yours is driving me insane, right?" His gaze darkens with lust burning through it.

"Smart_" I whisper, palms pressing gently against his chest as I flick a glance toward the door. "Someone could come."

His lips hover dangerously close, his voice curling into me like smoke. "Do you want me to stop flirting with you?"

The question shatters my composure. His eyes dare me to answer, daring me to fall.

The door bursts open. We jolt, caught.

"What are you doing here, Boom?"

My heart plummets at the voice. "Peanut," Smart cuts in quickly with a sharp tone.

"We were just_" I try to explain what is already as clear as a day when Peanut interrupts, "Can you come with me?" His eyes is locked onto mine.

"I'm sorry, Peanut," Smart replies before I can breathe, his arm is slipping between me and Peanut as if shielding me. "Boom and I need to show up at the vomitory now. That's why I came to get him."

"Boom?" Peanut repeats with serious tone about to turn into a threat.

"Phi Boom," Smart corrects smoothly, then glances at me with an almost challenging look. "Shall we?" I hesitate at first, then follow him out.

 

On our way, I notice that Smart looks uneasy and restless. "What's running through your head?" I ask softly.

"I feel bad for Peanut," he mutters. "It must be hell for him, enduring the fanservice and the distance between you both, forced to hide his jealousy."

"I know," I admit with heavy guilt in my tone. "He's trying to win me back."

Smart stops, and his expression shifts as he faces me. "He is?"

"Yes. I wanted to end things that same day, but he begged for a month. A month to fix us."

Smart doesn't answer right away. His eyes drift past me, settling on someone else behind. Then, he speaks with a low voice. "You should give him a chance, Phi Boom."

Heat rises in my face, a storm of confusion and fury. How dare he say this? And now!

Before I can answer, a woman's voice cuts in from behind me. "Ready for your big night?"

I turn to see who the voice belongs to. It's his manager. "Of course. A little nervous though," Smart replies smoothly, flashing her a practised smile.

I bite back the fire building inside me. "I should hurry. See you inside," I mutter, excusing myself before I unravel.

 

+++

 

On stage, Peanut kept trying to lean into me, to cling in little ways, but under the glare of cameras and fans, Smart found his opening. He used the oldest fanservice trick in the book, except it didn't feel like a trick.

He turned my gentle refusals of Peanut into a spectacle, into something the crowd could eat up. And I couldn't help but wonder, was it just a performance, a ship for the fans to sail, or was he sending a message that only I and Peanut were meant to catch?

The game Smart and I had to play after didn't even help. Sticky notes pressed against our bodies, and the rule was to take them off each other's with our tongue. When I felt his lips near my collarbone, I thought I would shatter from the inside. I played it cool for the audience, but inside, I was drowning.

Later, during interviews, I caught myself falling too deep into his gaze, losing grip of myself, and everyone noticed. I know they did.

 

All of it led to this silence now. Home again. Peanut and I have showered separately, then collapsed onto the bed, each of us lost in our phones, scrolling through clips and pictures of the night.

The room is heavy with unsaid words. And I can't hold it anymore. "I like Smart," I whisper at last.

Peanut smirks without looking up. "Tell me something new." His tone is mocking, but I refuse to bite.

"I can't live like this, Peanut. A month, a week. I can't even make it a night. Lying here beside you, almost naked, and all I can think about is him. It's not fair to you. It's not fair to me."

He doesn't flinch. Doesn't move. It is as if I have rehearsed this confession a hundred times, and he's grown numb to every version of it.

"Peanut!" My voice cracks against the silence.

Finally, he stirs, not with words, not with his body, but by shoving his phone toward me. His eyes aren't following me. As if he already knows how mine would widen.

The image hits me like glass. Smart, leaning close into a girl's neck, his lips brushing skin too intimate to mistake. Her face is striking, delicate lines edge in quiet sharpness, Strands of hair frame her face with a softness that makes it even harder to breathe. The moment feels stolen, a secret flash, yet the tilt of her gaze at the camera is bold, and almost possessive.

Jealousy and fear burn through me. "Who is she?" My voice comes out smaller than I want.

Peanut quickly replies. "Smart's girlfriend. His agency mate. They sing together. Been on and off for years, but they always crawl back to each other."

The words gut me. I turn away, and with thick throat, I ask, "When?"

He lowers his voice, but it cuts sharper than any shout. "Two days ago. She posted it to close friends. One is a friend of mine."

Two days ago? My chest tightened at the thought with fury and doubts.

"He's been with her for years, Boom," Peanut says. "You really want to throw us away for someone like that?"

"Don't twist it," I snap, then steady myself. "He's not why I'm breaking this. I'm breaking it because I can't pretend anymore. I've already hurt you, but I can't keep doing this."

I rise from the bed, but Peanut catches me with his words before his hands. "Fine. Let's end it. But, can we still be close? Like before?" His voice cracks, no mockery this time, only need.

The helplessness in his eyes pulls me back. I lean in and wrap him tight. "Of course. Peanut, I love you. Not as I once did, not as lovers do, but I will always love the friend in you who found me when I needed him most."

He clings to me harder than I to him. "I just don't want you to get hurt. Maybe I'm jealous, maybe I'm bitter, but I don't think he's good for you."

A tear slips from me onto his shoulder. I exhale into the ceiling, heavy and lost. It can't be what I just saw.

Tell me, Smart, what game are you playing? And why does my chest ache as if I've loved you all my life?

Chapter Text

Since the premiere night, I haven't even had the faintest chance to address the picture matter with Smart. And even if I had a chance, I don't know what I'd do with it. Do I even have the right to be angry with him for being with someone else while still yearning for me? What face could I wear to confront him? The face of a man who once shivered under his gaze, who pleaded for his touch while lying in another man's arms?

"I knew we'd succeed, but I never dared dream we'd break records this fast." The director's words cut through my thoughts, dragging me back to the meeting room. He isn't lying. The reactions to the series are madness. Both Smart and I have gained thousands of followers across platforms within just few days. We haven't even had time to breathe as events, ads, interviews, and more are flooding in.

I smile faintly before turning to catch Smart’s expression. “Yes, phi,” Smart says, voice steady but soft. “It makes me feel lucky, lucky to work with you, and to grow alongside phi Boom.”

His eyes flicker to mine, and for a moment, I catch the tremor in his breath beneath that poised smile.

“And I mean it, phi Boom,” he continues, quieter now. “You’ve shaped me more than you think. As an actor, and maybe even beyond that. That kind of inspiration, I’ll never take it for granted. I’m truly grateful to have been part of something this extraordinary.”

I believe him, though concern lurks in my chest. His joy is tinted with a restless worry I can't ignore.

I nod, letting him bask in it, and choose to remain silent until one of my agency's managers breaks in.

"By the way, Boom, is there any specific act in the fanservice with Smart you'd want to call out?"

I know why this meeting exists. What I haven’t yet figured out is what Smart’s music agency’s manager is doing here. It makes me wonder if this is truly about the series or if there’s something else she’s here to uncover, or perhaps to prove. This should be a conversation between Smart and me, nothing more. So why drag it into a meeting room? And the fact that it’s only mentioned now, in her presence, speaks volumes. It isn’t a coincidence. It’s her idea.

I lock eyes on her, "Nothing Smart does makes me uncomfortable."

I then glance at Smart. "You can ask Smart if there is something he wants to_"
Before I finish, she interrupts sharply. "Boundaries matter, even in fanservice. It can still cross lines."

I know she’s not entirely wrong. But isn’t it as clear as daylight that neither of us needs her opinion? How could I possibly despise her existence more than I already do? Her voice cuts through me, makes me want to silence her for a decade, or longer, before I’d even begin to feel satisfied.

I roll my eyes but smile politely when Smart replies, "I trust phi Boom entirely. And if anything ever bothers either of us, we'll handle it, together."

A simple string of words, yet they settle in me like a breath held too long, tender, consuming, and washing away the tension I didn’t know I carried. Maybe he’ll explain everything if I confront him. I need to tell him, at least, that I broke up with Peanut, and that I'm more than ever willing to be claimed by him.

After the meeting, his manager hangs too close, a barrier between us. Still, our eyes find each other, threaded with shy blushes and knowing, almost dangerous smiles.

Everything feels like high-school romance, eager for more yet content in every stolen glance.

Until she appears.

The same girl from the photo Peanut showed me. She walks towards him dressed in a fitted black long-sleeve crop top that highlights her waist perfectly, paired with oversized, distressed khaki cargo pants.

She's beautiful, and I fear I can't compete. Still, I'm burning to win him over. My lungs worship him silently, so fireclay that I wish I could carve him into every bone of me, like a sacred mark upon a cross, making him mine, and perhaps then, and only then, I would never turn atheist.

She strides toward him. His gaze flickers to her, then quickly to me. I pretend not to notice, crossing my fingers that he doesn't buy my act.

He takes her hand and walks towards the emergency stairs. I follow quietly, lingering above, peeking over the handrail.

"Why are you here, Pakkad?" he asks, his tone equal parts serious and concerned.

"God forbid a girl check in on her boyfriend." She grins, looping her arms around his shoulders.

Smart slips his hands into his pockets, ignoring her touch. "Didn't we already talk about this?"

"Smart! I missed you. Come on." She pouts, leaning closer, until he pulls away, rejecting her kiss."Pakkad!"

"Just one kiss, and I promise I'll go." She teases with a soft voice.

Before he gives in, I step forward. “Smart.” My voice slices through the tension, soft, yet heavy with intent.

Both of them turn towards me. His eyes glimmer with a shame, hers with vexation, though she quickly masks it with a forced smile.

“I was looking for you.” I walk down the stairs, every movement carrying the weight of my unanswered questions.

"I was just here with my_" He is about to finish, and I've never felt such impatience for a single sentence to end. "Friend. Pakkad." Relief floods me at his choice of words. Yet confusion still sits heavy in my chest.

Pakkad doesn't seem pleased with how he has just introduced her.

"Hey, Pakkad. I'm Boom. It's a pleasure meeting you." I keep my tone as light as possible.

"The pleasure's mine," she answers with a sharp smile.

She waits, clearly hoping I’ll leave so she can pick up where I interrupted, but I stand my ground, unmoving.

Smart steps in the awkwardness quietly, "Pakkad, can you wait for me outside?"

She glares, then smiles thinly, "No need. I'll head home. See you soon." She leaves quickly, throwing me one last look that feels loaded.

Smart exhales, exhaustion seeping from him.

"You okay?" I ask softly, studying him.

"Not enough to skip your hug."

He says it just like that, and my mind, which has been spinning a thousand scenarios to start a conversation with him about everything, what he feels for me, Pakkad, the picture, Peanut, his manager, and much more, suddenly goes silent. It’s as if time stops moving, except for my arms, pulling him closer, letting every inch of him sink into me.

His body meets mine with the force of a magnet snapping shut, solid and unyielding. His scent floods me, his heat drifting over my clothes. The air between us grows, charged with something unspoken.

Nothing else matters right now, except his call for me.

His breath brushes my neck. I feel it more than I hear it, and a tremor escapes me. "Smart," I murmur, "that tickles."

His hand slowly slides up my spine. "Does it?" His tone drops, quieter and deeper.

I nod, but the movement hesitates when his fingers curl firmer at my back, holding me still.

"Still tickling?" he asks again, close enough for the words to scrape my skin.

I swallow. "No."

He tilts his head, his mouth near my ear. "Then what?"

"It's_ too good," I breathe.

A low sound leaves him. His grip tightens, pulling me flush against him until my breath stutters.

"Good," he whispers, voice rough. "That's how I like you the most. Soft and honest."

My pulse is a drum beneath his hand. He doesn't kiss me, not yet. He waits, eyes locked on mine, daring me to move first.

And I can't.

As right now, he's not just close. He's in control of the air itself.

Is he_ hard?

It’s a different Smart altogether. The world sees him one way, soft, charming, effortlessly kind. But against my skin, he moves to a different rhythm. Beneath the warmth and care lies something deeper, a quiet dominance that pulls every nerve in me taut.

And I can't hold it anymore. I give in, ready to meet his lips, to finally taste the storm I've been trying to resist.

I tilt him towards me, inhaling his breath. We're drowning in a silent heat, and I'm about to claim his tongue when a familiar voice cuts through, "Smart!"

He jerks back, startled. "Piraya," he murmurs softly, confused by her loud and judging tone.

She fixes me with a hard glare before shifting it to him with eyes sharp in judgment.

I have been waiting for this moment, to put her in her place. She’s been testing my patience far too long "Is there a problem?" I step forward protectively.

She ignores me, but I hold my ground, especially when I catch her judging gaze sliding to Smart's crotch!

"I asked. Is there a problem? What gives Smart’s manager the right to crash in here and this way?"

"CEO," she corrects me coldly.

"And here you're adding to my point," I retort sharply. "Why would a CEO even be here?" My tone drips with disdain.

"Why are you speaking to me like that?" She hisses.

"Why are you barging in like that?" I fire back immediately. And I can swear, I wouldn’t in a million years dare disrespect anyone, not her, not Lucifer himself if he came at me. But with Smart, it’s different. I breathe differently. I change my own skin, like a snake coiling in silence, every nerve ready to strike.

Her eyes fly to Smart, searching for any kind of defence. Yet he remains silent, slipping away without a word. She then of course follows him, but not without casting me one last look, piercing, daring, and burning into my skin like a brand.

Why can't I just walk away? Focus on my work and my career? Why can't I stop myself from clashing with women over a man who's not even mine?

And the answer is, truthfully, I wouldn't want to stop even if I could.

 

+++

 

Smart’s dominant side hasn’t left my mind all night. Even the cool air on my balcony fails to sweep him away. I never imagined he carried such a duality, shifting from tender, disarming warmth to something commanding enough to make my pulse stutter. How did we go from a simple, “You okay?” to yearning for each other as if we’d always shared this level of intimacy?

I don’t understand what’s happening between us. Or if anything is happening at all. Maybe it’s all in my head. Maybe I’m weaving illusions out of thin air. And why does it all feel so rushed, as if the universe itself refuses to let me pause long enough to ask where we’re headed?

My phone buzzes. A message from Peanut: 'Are you okay?' It’s not his first message, but it would be my first reply in days if I ever decide to answer. I want to, but I can’t, not when he keeps warning me that Smart will break my heart.

Let him have it first, Peanut. Then we shall talk.

I step back inside, toss my phone onto the bed, and slip off my robe, the fabric pooling at my feet. The phone buzzes again. I ignore it. I pour myself a glass of water. Still ringing. Half-annoyed, I finally answer.

"Peanut, the day was stuffed. I'm sorry. I need to sleep now. Can I call you tomorrow?"

"Was it, too stuffed?"

My breath freezes. That voice. "Smart?" I glance at the screen, shocked. How did I not check before answering?

A slow, teasing smile drifts into his tone.
"Avoiding Peanut’s calls?"

"Avoiding calls," I correct, trying to sound unfazed.

"So I should hang up?" he teases.

I crawl into bed, pulling the blanket up against my bare skin. "If you want to," I answer, matching his tone.

"I want you," he says quietly, steady and certain.

My chest tightens. "I'm so lost, Smart. What do you actually want?"

"I know it's hard," he sighs, "to have me when you have Peanut, and_"

I'm about to cut in and tell him that I broke up with Peanut when he finishes softly, "and I also have someone."

"Pakkad?" I ask, voice clipped.

"It's complicated."

Anger flashes through me. "Complicated enough to make you hard in my arms?"

He exhales, the sound is raw. "Let's not, Boom."

"Smart, you confuse me," I say, sharper. "You start things, then end them whenever it suits you, like it doesn't matter who gets burned on either side."

There's silence. Then, a faint sound, a sniff he tries to hide. "I know, Boom," he murmurs, voice breaking. "I know. But I can explain everything if you let me. Please, just give me the chance to."

"I've been trying to, and you've been just_," I whisper.

He cuts in, gentler this time. "an idiot."

That makes me exhale a small laugh despite myself. "Yes, you are."

He chuckles almost shyly. "Can we pause the part where you're mad at me?"

"You deserve it."

"Absolutely," he admits. "But can we talk about something else until I can explain everything properly?"

"Whatever," I mutter, pretending not to care, though I care far too much whenever it comes to him.

"Can I ask you something?" His tone shifts again, softer.

"Mhm."

"How did you feel today, when we hugged?"

The question hits me like lightning. My breath stumbles, my body remembers. Every inch of that moment floods back to me.

"How should I have felt?" I manage to ask, as I'm the one searching for directions now.

"Did you like it?" he presses.

"Did you?" I dodge, my voice quieter.

"You think I'd be shy to answer that? I'm not_ not with you."

"Then tell me," I whisper. "How did you feel?"

He pauses. Then his words come low and honest. "Weak. Like no one has ever made me feel before you."

"Weak?" I repeat.

"Weak for your eyes," he admits. "You make me nervous when you look at me. Even when I'm sure of myself, sure of what I want to do."

My voice lowers. "And what did you want to do?"

"You already know," he says, his tone darkening, that dominance threading back through. "Or should I remind you?"

His confidence sends shivers crawling down my spine. I swallow hard. "I like you like that," I confess.

"I know," he replies, no hesitation, no doubt. Just certainty. That dangerous, magnetic certainty that draws me in every time.

But I can't let myself fall deeper, not yet. I need answers. I need to know if I'm moving towards a shore or a whirlpool. Because ever since he stepped into my life, the quiet monotony I used to live in has turned into chaos, and I'm not sure if I even want it to settle.

"I'm not planning to get my heart hurt," I tell him.

"I understand," he says, and for once, I believe him.

"So you owe me an explanation. Or else_"

"No 'or else,' Boom," he cuts in, voice husky. "I can't afford what comes after it."

He exhales, softer. "I told you I can't wait to be yours. I still mean it. And I'll give you the explanation you need and deserve."

A smile creeps into my voice. "And when you do, I have something to tell you too."

He smiles lightly. "You're going to kill me one day if you keep talking this soft."

"I don't want to kill you," I tease back. "Not yet."

He chuckles, tone playful again. "Then when you decide to, I'm sure it'll be unforgettable."

His words have that pull again, the kind I need to break free from, or I’ll lose myself to him. "You need to sleep, Smart."

"With?" he asks, mock-innocent.

I can't help but laugh. He always manages to pull a smile from my depression, with a gentleness that feels dangerous. Because where I stand now, I don't see clear water anymore. I don't know if Smart is the green flag my heart insists he is or the darkest red one, exactly as Peanut warned.

But I love this. I love whatever he makes me feel. I love both missing him and having him equally. The way he makes ordinary moments feel like tension waiting to ignite. I even love it when he keeps me wondering. And I'm terrified to admit that even if this ends in disaster, I wouldn't choose to stop here. Not yet, and hopefully, not ever.

Chapter Text

Today is finally the day I get to have coffee with Smart, alone. Just the two of us. The thought feels heavier than it should, like something quietly waiting to change everything. Maybe it’s because I’ve been holding on to the promise of an explanation. Or maybe because, deep down, I already know that the moment I see him, words will lose their meaning.

Still, I need a cup of coffee before the date, the kind that grounds you before you start to unravel. Because the coffee you drink on a date never really counts. Not when he’s there, stealing your focus with every glance, every small movement that pulls at you like gravity itself.

I sink into my comfort clothes, a plain black hoodie, black cargo jeans, and simple sneakers. No makeup, just sunscreen. My hair falls freely, untouched by style. It feels good to escape the grip of how I’m supposed to look according to expectations, no cameras, no fans, no image to maintain. Just me.

A spray of 'Tom Ford Noir Extreme' clings to my skin, warm and rich. I take a slow breath, letting the scent settle like armour. I’m ready for whatever plot twist the day decides to throw my way.

As I reach the car and curl my fingers around the handle, my phone rings. It’s him.
My pulse skips. Nothing new. My heart has learned to rearrange itself around his voice.

“Missed me much?” I tease when I answer.

He takes a moment before replying, his tone low and calm. “More than you think.”

The words pull a smile out of me before I can stop it. I lean back against the car, warmth spreading through my chest. “Prove it, then,” I say, half-joking, half-inviting.

“On your left.”

I turn, and there he is.

That familiar smirk. That same impossible ease that always leaves me a little breathless. My stomach tightens, and my gaze drops to my shoes before I can meet his eyes. His shadow stretches towards me, and the closer he gets, the harder it is to breathe.

“Enough proof?” he asks, voice husky, close enough that it grazes my senses.

I smile to myself, trying to keep steady. “Let’s go,” I murmur, turning to open the car door, but before I can, his arm slips past me, closing it gently. He’s close now, so close that his perfume mingles with mine.

“You smell good,” he says softly.

“Thank you,” I reply, my voice barely more than air, my eyes fixed on the space between us, his chest, his neck, anywhere but his eyes.

“You didn’t miss me?”

Didn’t miss you? I could drown in you right now if I could. Instead, I force a smirk. “No. Can we go now?”

I slip away into the driver’s seat, trying to regain control. He joins me on the other side. The silence between us is suddenly too intimate to name.

He unlocks his phone, scrolling through playlists until 'Cigarettes After Sex' drifts through the car, soft, aching, and perfectly wrong for this kind of silence.

The road hums beneath us, the city blurs past, but none of it feels real. Maybe it’s a coincidence that everything seems to fall into rhythm, the song, the air, the pulse between us, or maybe just being with him changes the way the world moves.

His gaze finds me as I'm driving, steady and unguarded, and I can feel it without looking. The music swells, and the lines are hitting harder than they should:

 

'Think I like you best when you’re dressed in black from head to toe
Think I like you best when you’re just with me
And no one else.'

 

And right then, I know nothing could ever taste sweeter than this moment, this closeness, this quiet gravity that feels like it could rewrite my entire life.

 

+++

 

The café isn’t small. It spreads wide, warm, and open, with walls and tables carved from deep, honey-toned wood that makes the air feel grounded and alive. Rain slides down the glass windows in slow streams, blurring the world outside into soft shapes. Inside, the scent of roasted coffee beans, sweet syrup, and something earthy, I can't find a name for, fill me tenderly.

The low hum of quiet conversations mixed with the gentle hiss of the espresso machine, and somewhere, soft jazz wrapping itself around the space.

We walk in together, both dressed in black. I wear my hoodie, the fabric soft and familiar against my skin. Smart in a fitted coat, an ice cap pulled low over his head, glasses catching the light so his eyes vanish into shadow.

When he steps up to order, I stay behind, watching. The barista glances between us with that kind of smile that’s both curious and cautious. “Are you a couple?” she asks softly.

Smart freezes for the barest second. Then he looks at me. I catch the flicker in his eyes, the way he waits, letting the question hang between us. My lips curve, not in a laugh, but something quieter. A smile that says maybe we already know the answer.

He nods faintly. “Maybe,” he murmurs, and it isn't loud enough for anyone but me to hear.

When he turns back to the counter, I can feel the air shifts. It isn’t awkward. It is right.

We take our coffee in warm mugs, the steam curling between our fingers, carrying the scent of cinnamon and roasted beans. We find a cozy corner by the window, a booth that makes the rest of the café disappear.

The rain keeps falling as the café holds us like a secret. I pull out my phone and take a picture of him, of us, of the moment.

“Thanks for the coffee,” I say softly, not looking away.

He smiles slowly. “Then it's worth it.”

I want to pick up the thread to ask him for the explanation already, but I’m afraid. Afraid I’ll shatter this fragile peace between us. Somehow, he reads it.

"What question do you want me to answer first?" he asks gently.

"It’s okay if you don’t feel like talking right now." I lie. It’s not okay. I need to know. But I’m scared. Scared that breaking this silence will shatter whatever calmness we’ve found, and I’ll regret it.

"But I want to explain, Boom. I promised you, didn’t I?"

I nod slowly, giving him a small smile. "So_ are you taken?" I voice the heaviest thought pressing on my chest.

"Pakkad?" he asks quietly, and I confirm with a look.

He breathes out slowly. "We’ve been together for years," his voice heavy. "She was there when I had nothing. No money, no recognition. Just a handful of dreams, dreams that back then felt like distant illusions. And she gave me everything she could. Everything."

He pauses. His gaze drifts somewhere far beyond the cafe. "I can’t lie to myself. I never loved her enough for it to break me if she left. But for a while, I told myself it was enough. That it was fine, just her and me, sharing pieces of dreams. That she kept me company. That she cared."

His jaw clenches. "But then she changed. Became possessive. Inventing stories in her mind. Her insecurities turned into constant battles, over and over. So I could no longer take it. I needed to break up."

His voice catches slightly. "And I did. But she kept pulling me back. Threats, cries, that time her father died. She needed me more than ever. And somehow, there was always a reason to return. To fall back into the same endless cycle."

He exhales, sharp and bitter. "Now, ever since the series took off, she has been accusing me that I left her behind because I’m famous now. Threatening that she will harm herself and me. I don’t believe she’d go that far, but she's been in a dark place again lately. And I had to be there with her."

His voice breaks. "We_ we had sex again. But it was hollow. Empty. No warmth. No connection. I couldn’t even finish. There’s nothing left in me for her. Nothing. But she won’t let go. And I've been terrified_ terrified she might harm herself. Even Piraya kept warning me that she would."

My chest tightens. I want to protect him and hold him. My blood boils when I see a tear slip from his eye. He looks away. Like he’s running from it.

I take the cup from his hand, set it down, and capture his hands in mine. I want to tell him, no, I need to tell him that it’s not his fault.

"Before the premiere night, she threatened me. Said if we didn’t get back together, she’d end her life. I told myself she was saying it again, that it was the same fear, the same threat she’d thrown before. I didn’t take it seriously. But, when you and I were walking down the corridor at the theatre, Piraya gave me a look I’ll never forget. It froze me. She didn’t say a word in front of you, but later, when you left, she told me Pakkad had swallowed pills. That night at the hospital, they saved her. And I_ I couldn’t stop seeing her face, hearing her cries. I knew right then that after the premiere, I'd have to face it. And I did."

The picture begins to take shape now. And I need to know one more thing before I lose my chance. "So you broke up with her before the premiere night?"

"Before we even started shooting." He states. I hesitate. "But,"

He shifts, so his chest is closer to mine. His voice drops sharp. "But what?"

"Nothing." I say softly. His thumb presses against my palm. "Boom." His voice is lower now.

I look at him. "Peanut showed me a picture of you kissing her neck."

He exhales slowly and deliberately. His hand cups my jaw. "Yeah, she’s always tried to make people believe we’re still together. But it's an old picture, Boom"

I believe him. Whether because I want to or because he's actually saying the full truth, I can’t tell.

"When did you see that picture? Why didn’t you tell me?"

"After the premiere night. Peanut showed it to me. I’m telling you now."

His lips press together. "I’m sorry you had to see that. Sorry you had to be dragged into this. That’s why I asked you to give Peanut a chance. I didn’t want you caught in this storm. But, Boom, even through chaos, I feel greedy. Selfish. I want you. I don’t want to let you go. I still want to make you mine."

My breath catches. "Then_ make me yours."

His smile is slow, measured with dominance and hunger. "I broke up with Peanut the night of the premiere." My voice is steady and certain.

I smile, not because it should hurt, but because it doesn’t. Not anymore. I’ve mourned Peanut long ago while being with him.

He leans in, just enough for the heat of him to brush against me. His voice drops, soft but edged with something hidden. "You did?" There’s hunger in his tone, a question loaded with possession.

"Yes." I whisper.

He leans closer, his lips grazing my ear. His hand slides down to my thigh, tracing me just enough to make me shiver. "Smart_"

"Not now." I warn softly, turning my head. I press my finger to his lips. His breath catches.

"Let’s go home." His voice is low, full of heat. He stands, pulling me with him. I grab his arm. "Wait. Sit for a second."

He hesitates, then sits. "What?"

"I need time."

"Take all the time you want, with me." His lips curve into a slow, knowing smile. He stands.

He walks us to the car. I reach for his arm, trying to slow him. "Smart_ wait." He doesn’t stop. It's obvious to everyone how he's driven by elation.

We reach the door. He opens it for me, then steps in himself. The air between us hums.

I square my shoulders, trying to hold my breath under the weight of him. "You’re in a hurry, huh?"

His smirk is slow. "I’ve been waiting for this, for you, since the very first moment I saw you." His voice is low, intimate, a claim rather than a confession.

My brow lifts. "What?"

He leans closer, his gaze locked on mine, warm and dangerous. "I’ve wanted you from the very first second you walked into my life. So believe me, I’m in a hurry when it comes to claiming you." His words fall heavy, like a vow. His voice deepens, dark, pulling me closer without touch.

My chest tightens. I study him. His eyes devour mine, drop to my lips, and return again to my gaze, as if he’s memorising me. I try to match his rhythm to steady myself, but I fail. "I need time. We need to know each other more. Maybe then_"

"Maybe?" His voice is a low tease, threaded with hunger. He leans in so close I can feel the heat of his breath. "Boom, I want you. Fucking now. But I’ll wait. I’ll wait for as long as it takes, as long as I have you by my side."

There’s an undeniable promise in his words. My lips part, and a smile curls inside me, spilling outward without a thought. I slide into the driver’s seat, starting the engine. "I liked you, from the very first moment I met you too."

His head turns sharply toward me, his gaze sharpening, intense.

"I didn’t know what it was then, but now I do." My voice drops to a whisper meant only for him. "I’ve always liked you."

His smile deepens, slow and claiming. His hand moves over mine, fingers curling possessively, his thumb gliding over my skin with a thoughtful heat that makes me shiver. The air hums between us as he presses play the same song. This time, every lyric feels ours. Every note feels like a confession.

My fingers find his, intertwining with a quiet need. I let them rest on his thigh, not casually, but with ownership.

In that moment, I know it with absolute certainty. I’ve never been in love before now. Before him.

And there is no doubt.

 

'Think I like you best when you’re dressed in black from head to toe
Think I like you best when you’re just with me
And no one else.'

Chapter Text

It’s been the best week of my entire life since our coffee date. Every morning, I wake up to a message that reminds me I’m seen, heard, understood, and wanted. I’m drenched in affection, care, and a quiet kind of intimacy that feels stolen from heaven itself. Sometimes, it feels too much, too tender, too consuming, and I understand now why Adam could never stay in paradise. It’s terrifying to realize that heaven can be yours.

I spent thirty-three years mistaking crumbs for love, clinging to the bare minimum, and convincing myself it was enough. I’d forgotten what it meant to feel. And now I have someone who makes everything, even air, taste sweeter.

And if someone like me trembles on the shore, terrified of drowning, they must know the horror that seeps into our bones when we dare to touch happiness. Those children who once ran home from the park, cheeks flushed with laughter, only to be greeted by their parents screaming at each other, breakable items flying overhead, their small hands pressed hard over their ears as they go to their rooms wavering.

I know them.
I was one of them.

Every drop of happiness tastes like a warning. Every daydream promises its own nightmare. That’s not just a rul. It’s a curse, law carved into the marrow of my life.

And now, with him, when everything feels so impossibly beautiful, so surreal, I can’t stop the question from clawing at me, if we can be this happy together, does it mean we’re destined to tear each other apart? Will this heaven collapse on me the way all heavens do? Or am I simply too human to hold it?

My phone vibrates.

'Is there a specific reason you decided to drive me insane looking the way you do today?'

A quiet laugh slips from me. He’s right beside me, close enough that I can feel the heat radiating from his body, yet he still texts me as if we’re miles apart. Around us, stylists move in a blur, fixing collars and smoothing fabric, oblivious to the silent current between us. His expression stays cool and professional, but the phone in my lap keeps lighting up with messages he shouldn’t be sending.

He leans a little closer, just enough that I can feel his breath brushing the side of my neck. His voice drops to a whisper, rough and husky. “I can’t.”

I turn to him, startled by the tension in his tone. “What’s wrong?”

His eyes meet mine, burning, and so close I can see my reflection in them. “I can’t stop picturing what I’d do to you right now if you'd let me.” he murmurs, his lips barely moving. “I said I’d wait, and I’m trying, but can't you grant me some relief?” His gaze drifts down my face, to my lips. “You’re torturing me.”

My breath hitches. I tilt my head, forcing a teasing smile to cover the way my pulse trembles. “Well, you did say you’d wait.”

He chuckles under his breath, the sound soft but a little dangerous. “Is that so?” he murmurs, voice sinking deeper. “And you said nothing Smart does makes you uncomfortable.”

I blink, thrown off, my words catching. “That was about the fanservice_”

He smirks as the announcer calls our names. His fingers brush the edge of my sleeve, just once, just long enough to make my skin burn. Then he fixes his jacket, expression perfectly composed again.

“Exactly,” he says, his tone smooth but daring.

I still don’t know what he’s planning. Smart never says. He just looks at me with that unreadable calm that promises trouble. And for reasons I can’t explain, I trust him completely, maybe because every word, every glance, every small act carries that quiet kind of love only he gives.

We greet the fans, the roar of their voices washing over us like light. Sometimes I can’t believe this many people come just to see what we’ve built together. They’re all so different, yet somehow we share this strange bond, our vibes, our moments. I hope we never lose that. Never stop giving them the kind of happiness they’re giving us now.

The game starts, and it takes Smart all of three minutes to twist it into his own playground. We’re told to hold eye contact for a full minute. He steps in close, his hand finding my waist with practised ease, fingers settling there like he owns the moment, and maybe me, too.

The crowd erupts, shouting and laughing, but his gaze doesn’t waver. It locks onto mine, unblinking and steady, like a silent dare.

I smile under the weight of it. He’s enjoying this, testing how long I can last before the heat in his eyes gives me away.

His thumb moves slightly, tracing a line through the fabric at my side, innocent to anyone watching, but I feel the message under his touch. My pulse betrays me. He knows.

The fans cheer louder. He leans in until our noses brush until I forget what to do with my hands. He takes them gently, guiding them to his waist as if to say, 'Your move.'

It’s the longest minute of my life.

The rest of the fan meeting becomes his stage, a quiet war of restraint. Every word he says, every glance he throws my way, feels like another push against the limits of my composure. I do my best to keep it together, smile for the cameras, and laugh on cue, but he keeps finding ways to remind me that he’s in control.

Then it’s my turn in the game. My revenge. I’m supposed to tease him and see if he reacts. The crowd is waiting.

So I do the one thing I’ve been dying to do. I step forward and brush a kiss against his neck.

The world explodes in screams and laughter, and for a second, I see it, his composure cracking, the smallest twitch at the corner of his mouth before he swallows it whole.

He hides it well, smiling faintly as the noise swells around us. But when his eyes meet mine again, there’s a warning there, a promise disguised as calm.

He bites his bottom lip. I know exactly what that means. And I can’t stop the quiet rush of pride that fills me. Because right now, I’ve got him holding on by a thread.

 

+++

 

I’m halfway done changing in the dim, warm glow of the changing room when the door creaks open after a single, sharp knock. Before I can slip my shirt on, the air shifts. I freeze, pressing the fabric tighter over my chest, fingers clutching the cloth to hide myself.

Smart steps in. No words. No sound beyond the soft click of the door closing behind him. He stands still, just behind me. The silence stretches thickly, making my skin prickle. Confusion curls in my chest. I glance over my shoulder at him in the mirror, voice low. “What?”

His gaze slides over me like heat, slow, stopping at the curve of my chest. His eyes linger on my half-covered nipples, and his tongue drags across his lower lip with a possessive pull. “Was I very vocal when I said I’d wait?” His tone isn’t a question. It’s a claim.

I smile shyly as I let my arms slip into my shirt sleeves with calculated slowness, all while the ache in my chest deepens. I want him closer. I want the weight of him pressing me against something hard, something immovable. But he doesn’t move. Not yet.

I start buttoning the shirt, feeling my pulse spike under his gaze. My fingers hesitate at the last button, my breath hitching. My chest aches in a way that goes beyond physical need, sharp and consuming. I glance at him in the mirror. His eyes are fixed on me intensely. I can almost feel his restraint like a living thing.

Slowly, without a word, he steps around me. The air between us changes. In the mirror, I catch his reflection now in front of me, the heat in his gaze unrelenting. His hand lifts, brushing my wrist with a possessive grace. My heart stutters as his fingers trace the line up my arm, dragging close to where my shirt barely shields my skin.

His other hand rests lightly on my hip now, anchoring me. He doesn’t touch the fabric covering my chest yet, but the pressure is enough. My body stiffens, trembling.

Slowly, he leans closer, his lips grazing past my jawline towards my neck. “I’m very tempted to break my promise.”

My chest swells, heat blooming under his gaze, and I know I want him to.

His lips hover just behind my ear. His breath is warm, heavy. I shiver, the ache in my chest deepening into something raw and urgent. His hand tightens on my hip. I swallow hard, feeling him lean closer still.

His voice edged with steel. “You’re testing me.”

I bite my lip, button halfway undone, wanting him to speak, wanting him to keep touching me until I lose control. “Maybe I am,” I murmur, submissive but daring.

A smirk escapes his lips. “Maybe you are,” He echoes.

Without another word, his fingers curl over the edge of my shirt, pulling it down just enough to bare my skin. My breath hitches. His touch is slow and reverent, as if he’s marking a territory.

Heat presses through me before his mouth moves. His lips come down to my neck, teeth grazing, breath low and intoxicating. His scent fills my senses, making my knees weak.

“You like this,” he murmurs against my skin. His hand moves again, grazing my chest just above the shirt, fingertips brushing over my hardness with a dominance that burns.

My shirt pools open, exposing my skin. His mouth lowers further, lips trailing my collarbone, while one hand cups my chest possessively.

I can’t hold back anymore. My breath catches as my chest rises under his grip. “Smart,” I whisper, barely audible, voice trembling.

A deep, low chuckle escapes him. “Say it again.”

I do. My voice breaks under him. “Smart.”

His teeth graze my nipple through the shirt, pulling a sharp groan from me. His hand tightens. He breathes, almost to himself. “Say my name, and give me permission, Boom”

“Smart, I-”

A dark smile curls on his lips. But the second his fingers tighten, his lips descend lower, and the air thickens between us, something shifts. His breathing becomes uneven, harsher, almost frantic. His sharp inhale against my skin betrays him as the control he’s fought to keep is slipping. His fingers press harder, dragging heat into me, and his chest presses closer.

I feel his body tremble against mine. His jaw tightens. There’s something primal in his stance, a dangerous hunger I’ve never seen before. Even the air feels electric.

I press a hand to his chest, feeling the taut muscle beneath his shirt. His eyes meet mine, dark and fierce. His chest rises and falls faster.

I swallow hard, voice trembling. “Smart, wait.”

He freezes instantly. His breath catches. His fingers are still on me, but the sharp dominance in his gaze calms down, replaced by raw need. “I- I can’t,” he murmurs. His control has shattered. He takes a slow step back, breathing through it. “You really want me to stop, Boom? Now?”

My lips part. “No, that’s not it.” My voice trembles, torn between need and fear. “I don’t want you to stop. I just-” I swallow hard, eyes flicking away. “I’ve never felt it this way before. It’s, too much, too fast. My body wants more of you, Smart, but I don’t even know how to handle it.”

“You think I’m not struggling too?” His eyes darken, full of heat he’s trying to bury. “You make it harder every time you breathe like that, every time you look at me like you’re begging me to lose control.”

For a moment, neither of us move. The distance between us feels charged, alive, not rejection, but a held promise. Smart’s voice softens, steady again. “But I don’t want you to do anything you're not ready for." He holds my hand softly. "Take your time, Boom. I can still wait."

His eyes never leave me. The air between us hums with unsettled tension. We both know this isn’t over. My own body burns, my skin aches, and my thighs clench. I know he feels it, too.

We sit on the floor, our backs against the cool wall. His chest still rises and falls faster than normal but slower than seconds ago. My eyes wander down as the fabric of his pants is drawn tight, the outline of him undeniable, too much for my breath to steady. His gaze follows mine, and something in his expression shifts. A proud smirk curves his lips, the kind that says he is well aware of the effect he has on me.

“Don’t,” he murmurs. “Don’t do this to me.”

Shame and desire tangle in me as I tear my gaze away. “Are you mad at me?” I whisper.

He reaches out, fingers warm against my chin, tilting my face back to his. His eyes burn dark and soft all at once.

“I could never be mad at you,” he says. “I just can’t hold it back anymore, how badly I want you,” his voice drops, rough and trembling at the edges. “Not just your body, Boom. I want you. All of you. Your heart, your trust, your love. I want you to claim me as much as I ache to make you mine. I’ve never felt anything like this before, and maybe that’s why it feels like hunger, why I’m starving for you.”

My lips curve faintly. “How did we end up here, Smart?”

He exhales and draws me against his chest, his legs sliding apart on the floor. “I don’t know,” he admits. “Sometimes it feels like every step I’ve taken was only leading me here, to you. And here, you’ve been waiting for me just as long as I’ve been waiting for you. That’s why everything’s been moving so fast since the moment we met.”

I tilt my head, meeting his gaze over my shoulder. “Does it scare you?” His lips presses against my hair.

“It does. Only because I’m terrified of losing this,” I whisper.

“You won’t.” His arms tighten. “Do you think I’d be stupid enough to let anything take you from me?”

A shiver runs through me. “Please, don’t,” I breathe.

“I won’t,” he promises.

Something in me softens. I turn and press a small, innocent kiss to the curve of his neck. He answers with a kiss to my forehead, holding me closer, as if he can keep the world out with nothing but his arms.

 

His wrapped arms around me, the dim light turning everything gold and shadow, the air too small for the two of us, for our hunger, our breath, our trembling hearts, his scent mingling with mine, warm and dizzying, his breath on my skin, soft as a promise, endless as a vow.

What in the world could ever be better than this? Nothing.

And yet, beneath the rush of it all, a quiet fear coils deep within me. The tighter his arms hold me, the safer I feel, and the deeper that fear sinks, like standing at the edge of a cliff, trembling at the thought of falling, yet intoxicated by the dizzying beauty below. Still, I can not stop. Not now. Not when every second hangs suspended between a heartbeat and a dream.

I love you, Smart, more than I ever thought I could love anything, even myself. And that truth frightens me, though the fear burns with a strange, irresistible sweetness.

Chapter Text

“I missed you, Dad. I wish you were here, so I could tell you about all the things I’ve achieved. Your son is a well-known actor now. People call him talented. He’s not the failure you used to see when you looked at him.”

I pause, letting the words linger in the quiet air. “But even if you were still around, I know you wouldn’t listen. You’d be busy releasing your anger on Mum. And I know you’d never accept that your son is gay.”

A faint laugh escapes me, half bitter, half weary. “So I’ll take advantage of the kind of relationship we have now, the one where I get to speak, and you can’t interrupt.”

I draw a shaky breath. “I’m in love, Dad. Last year, I came here with Peanut. You’d probably roll your eyes, say I change boyfriends like socks. But this time, it’s different. I’m loved. Really loved. Not like how you used to measure love, with conditions and silence, but in a way that makes me feel whole. Safe.”

I glance down at the headstone, tracing the letters of his name with my eyes. “I’m happy, Dad. Can you believe that? For once, I can say it and mean it. Not as a passing moment but as something real. Something I built from the ruins you left behind.”

The wind moves through the cemetery, stirring the dry grass. “I hope you’re resting in peace. And I hope you know how much I wish you deserved it. Still, a part of me forgives you. And that’s the only part that misses you, dad”

I exhale slowly, but my eyes stay dry. Some sons cry for the memories they’ll never make. I mourn the years I already lived, the ones that shaped me into someone always waiting for love to be enough. The years I’m still trying to heal from.

As I rise, brushing dirt from my jeans, sunlight floods the graveyard. For a moment, I squint against it until a moving shadow catches my eye. Someone’s walking towards me, their outline growing clearer through the brightness.

I tense, my chest tightening with an instinctive irritation at being disturbed. But then the sun shifts, and I see him. The familiar face I could recognize anywhere.

“Peanut.”

He smiles softly and kneels beside me, resting a bouquet of white flowers gently on my father’s grave. One petal drifts loose, caught by the wind, landing on my shoe before tumbling to the earth.

“How did you remember?” I ask, confused.

I know I brought him here last year, though he hated it, hated cemeteries, and hated the idea of visiting the dead. ‘People die and disappear,’ he once said. ‘Talking to their stones won’t bring them back.’ But he still came, for me. Now, after the breakup, I can’t understand what would make him show up again or how he even knew I’d be here now.

He stands and takes off his sunglasses, pointing with them towards the gate.

As we walk down the narrow path between graves, he sighs, eyes wandering over the stones. “I wouldn’t forget, even if I wanted to,” he says, voice quiet but laced with something that sounds a lot like blame.

“Thank you,” I manage. “I appreciate that you came.”

I owe him that much. I haven’t replied to his messages in weeks, not unless it was work-related. For someone who promised to stay friends, I’ve done a terrible job of it.

“To the company?” he asks.

“Yeah. Smart and I are recording a reaction video for the new episode today.”

“Then take me with you. I’m heading there anyway.”
He doesn’t sound like he’s asking. My steps slow for a heartbeat, hesitation hanging between us. Then, as if sensing it, he adds softly, “It’s okay if you don’t want to.”

I press my lips together, thinking fast. Then I turn and give him a small, practised smile. “Why not? Same destination.” We both know it's not.

+++

 

I drive, but my thoughts keep circling, restless. It’s fine for Peanut and me to stay friends, but not now. Not when his feelings for me are still raw.

His gaze burns the side of my face the entire ride. I can feel him looking through me, searching for something that isn’t his anymore.

Smart calls. The stupid AI reads his name out loud, echoing through the silence like a betrayal. I fumble and decline it immediately.

Peanut hums, a quiet, mocking sound. “Didn’t listen, did you?”

“Listen to what?” I ask, though I know exactly what he means.

“I told you he’s not good for you. I even showed you their picture.”

“Peanut,” I sigh, “first of all, you keep forgetting that Smart and I are literally a ship right now. Him calling me doesn’t necessarily mean anything personal. And that picture? It’s old. She posted it to stir things up. You know how this industry works. Half of what you see online is staged.”

He chuckles dryly. “He really brainwashed you, huh?”

“Don’t start,” I mutter, tension creeping up my neck.

He leans back, voice low. “He loves her, Boom. You’re just a step closer to his dreams. When he gets the chance, he’ll go back to her and leave you and the ship to sink.”

Something in me snaps. I hit the brakes hard. The car jerks, both of us jolting forward.

“Can you stop?” I shout. “I’ve been calm, trying to be the bigger person here, but you don’t get to tell me what to believe! I believed you once. Remember? Believed you when you said you’d never change. And you drained the life out of me, Peanut. I still tried, over and over, to save us. And now you’re acting like you care? Only because you see me with someone else?”

My voice cracks. “That’s not love, Peanut. That’s selfishness.”

He flinches, silent.

“And you,” I add bitterly, “you’re a hypocrite. Coming to my dad’s grave today to prove you still care, when last year you came only because I begged you not to leave me alone, and then I heard you laughing about it with Yetao, calling me dumb for talking to a headstone.”

His jaw tightens. “I tried to fix us, damn it. But you? You gave up for someone who’ll drop you the second he’s done using you. At least I wasn’t the one who cheated.”

“That’s what you care about?” I snap. “Out of everything I said, that’s your reply?”

My hands tighten on the steering wheel. “Either get out of the car right now, or respectfully stay silent until we arrive.”

He exhales sharply, then slumps in his seat, eyes fixed on the window.

The rest of the drive is a hollow silence. The only sound is the road beneath us, and the quiet certainty in my chest that breaking up with him was the only right decision I’ve ever made.

+++

We arrive at the company in silence. Not a single word is exchanged. When I close the car door, I hear Peanut quietly greeting someone before heading inside.

I turn, and it’s Smart.

A thousand thoughts hit me at once, flooding like a storm. Will he doubt me?Will he ask what Peanut was doing with me? Will he be mad, give me that silent treatment I hate, or start an argument?

But he doesn’t say a word. He just reaches for my hand and leads me inside.

We again end up in the emergency staircase, quiet, empty, dimly lit. He turns to me and suddenly pulls me into him, hugging me like it’s the last day on earth. His scent fills me before I even realize I’ve stopped breathing.

“I fucking missed you,” he murmurs against my ear. “You make me want to skip stages and just ask you to move in with me already. I couldn’t wait upstairs, I had to come down to the garage.”

He breathes me in, his lips brushing my neck.“What are you doing to me, Boom?” he says softly, his voice almost a breath.

I freeze, stunned by how quickly fear melts into warmth.
So he isn’t mad?
He isn’t going to question me?

I pull back slightly, still wrapped in his arms. “I met Peanut at my dad’s grave,” I say, searching his eyes. “He asked me to drive him since he was-”

He cuts me off by kissing my cheek, gentle but firm. “You don’t have to explain,” he whispers. “I was going to ask why he was with you, and you just told me. That’s all I need to know.”

I blink at him, surprised, a strange calm settling over me.

“But Boom,” he adds, brushing a hand over my jaw, “are you okay? Was it too much today?”

“It was,” I admit quietly. “I should’ve asked you to come with me, but I needed to go alone this year. I told dad about you, but I’m not ready to tell you about him yet.”
The words tumble out fast, my hands moving as I speak. “Then Peanut appeared out of nowhere, started saying things I didn’t want to hear, and I even had to shout at him-”

Smart’s tone changes, low and protective. “What did he say?”

I glance at his chest, avoiding his eyes. “He said you’re only with me to get closer to your dreams. That you still love her.”

Smart exhales sharply, a sound more like frustration than anger.

I rest my hands on his shoulders, intertwining my fingers behind his neck. “I don’t believe him,” I whisper, rising on my toes until my lips nearly touch his. “I trust you, Smart.”

He smiles, the kind that softens his whole face. “I’m not worried about our trust, babe. I’m just pissed at him.”

The word babe hits me like a small electric shock, unexpected and real. “What did you just say?” I ask, flustered.

He chuckles, eyes glinting. “Should I take it back?”

“Do it, and I’ll kill you,” I threaten with a pout.

His grin widens. “I love criminals.”

“You better do,” I whisper, wrapping my arms tighter around him.

“So, babe,” His voice drops lower and commanding, the way that always makes my breath struggles.

“Mhm?”

“May I at least have a kiss now?”

I freeze, a shiver running down my spine.
“You already had enough on set,” I mumble. “You even improvised some.”

He tilts my chin up. “I’m never full when it’s you.”

My lips curve helplessly. My eyes must be laughing, even though my heart’s trembling.

“Wait,” he says suddenly, reaching into his pocket. He pulls out his phone, taps a few times, then slides it back, letting music spill softly into the silence.

'Cigarettes After Sex.'
But not the same song from the car. Another one, slower, like a heartbeat caught in water.

He wraps me in his arms again. Not dancing, just swaying in sync, our breaths falling into rhythm with the song.

 

Falling in love
Falling in love
Deeper than I've felt it before with you, baby
I feel I'm falling in love with all my heart

 

The lyrics settle between us like a promise. His body feels safe and warm.

'What am I waiting for?' I think to myself. And for once, my head is quiet. No fear. No hesitation.
Only him.

“Kiss me,” I say.

He blinks, as if he didn’t hear me right. “What?”

“Kiss me, Smart” I repeat, steadier this time.

And then he does.

He leans in slowly, lips brushing mine first like a question, then deeper, hungrier. His hand slides behind my neck, the other pulling me closer by the waist. His mouth tastes like home, like the quiet after a storm I didn’t know I’d survived.

When our tongues meet, the world falls away. He moves in a rhythm that feels too perfect to be real. Every pull, every breath feels like it’s meant to ruin me sweetly.

He doesn’t stop until he’s breathless, and even then, he stays close. I’m smiling against his lips, my fingers tracing his jaw.

“We’ll be late,” I whisper, still panting. “Fifteen minutes left.”

He grins. “Then let’s use them.”

He kisses me again, harder this time. My hands find his hair, tugging gently. His lips part, and I drown all over again. I can feel him trembling, fighting to keep control.

He finally pulls away, his forehead resting on mine. “You know I can’t do it here, right?”

I grin up at him. “I know.”

“So you make me suffer on purpose.”

“Maybe,” I tease, arching a brow. “I love it when you get hard for me.”

He groans softly. “You know, there are other things to love about me.”

I laugh, hitting his chest lightly. “Shh. Let’s go now.”

He catches my hand as I'm about to leave. “One more kiss?”

I turn, kiss him quickly on the lips.

“That’s it?” he pouts.

“For now. My lips are already swollen,” I say shyly, looking away.

He takes my hand again as we walk to the room we’ll record in. He leans closer, lips almost touching my skin. “Let’s see which part of you gets swollen next.”

My whole body reacts, though I try to keep a straight face as people are everywhere now. I curse under my breath, wishing for a world with no one in it but us.

Smart turns everything around him into art. When I’m with him, my mind is clear, my heart unburdened. My past, my pain, my traumas, they all fade into mist. Only he remains real.

If Polaris ever meant anything in our story, I see it now.

Smart was the one light I found after a lifetime of losing everything. The star that stayed when every other one vanished into the dark. He is my guide, my anchor, the constant in my chaos, and the reason I keep walking forward, even when the night feels endless.

May this light never fade, and may it burn brighter than eternity itself.

Chapter Text

I open my eyes to find myself sprawled on the living room floor, drenched in alcohol from head to toe. For a few seconds, I stare at the ceiling, letting my brain scramble to collect fragments of reality.
Who am I? Why am I here? What is life even for? And, crucially, do I have any plans for today?

The last question hits hardest, snapping me upright. My head pounds with a hangover so sharp it feels physical, each beat of my heart echoing through my skull. I sprint to the bathroom, showering in record time, brushing my teeth with frantic urgency, not that I have time for meticulous grooming. Today, I might just get a chance with Smart alone, and I refuse to squander it. A quick splash of perfume, a messy run of my fingers through my hair.

I still feel like I’ve forgotten something, but the memory slips further with every second.

Coffee. I need coffee. No matter what chaos awaits me, without that bitter, scorching lifeline, the day is already doomed. I measure the grounds, pour the water, sip cautiously, my tipsy senses still distorting the taste. I scowl at myself. This is not me. I am usually precise, composed, and competent. But lately, Smart has given me a strange kind of freedom. A reckless, clumsy freedom that allows me to stumble through mornings without guilt, trusting him to hold the weight I can’t bear to lift right now. Smart will cover it up for me.

I reach for the door, sliding a hand into my pocket, and then I remember. My phone. The one thing I forgot. I sprint back to the living room, snatch it from the floor, and find it ringing endlessly. My manager’s name flashes across the screen.

“I’m on my way, I swear,” I bark into the receiver, trying to mask panic with force. “See you in fifteen minutes.”

Before I can hang up, he cuts in. “By any chance, have you talked to Smart today? Do you know where he is?”

I hesitate. “Not since yesterday. He hasn’t shown up?”

“No, Boom. Not him, not you. Everyone’s waiting. Respect people’s time, maybe?”

Shame creeps up my throat. It was my first moment of genuine recklessness, and now I’m paying the price. Confusion curls around it, spiking worry. Yesterday’s drinking must have dulled my attention.

Did he text? Call? Nothing registers. I hang up and dash to my car, checking call logs frantically. Nothing. No message, no missed calls.

My stomach clenches. He should have contacted me by now. Sick? Something happened? Panic fuels my urgency as I start the engine and drive straight to his condo.

 

+++

 

I arrive at Smart’s condo and knock insistently. Silence. My heart hammers in my chest. I knock again, calling his name. No answer. Not even the faintest rustle inside. If he were inside, awake, even submerged in sleep, he would have answered.

Returning to my car, my manager calls again. “I just came to check on Smart. He isn’t home,” I blurt, tension in my voice. He interrupts immediately. “Smart is here now. How long till you arrive?”

Questions spin in my head, frantic and overlapping, but I shove them down. “I’m on my way, phi.”

The moment I start driving again, my phone rings. Peanut. Just what I need. I decline first, but he insists, so I answer.

“Do you know who’s coming on our plane to Japan?” His tone is irritatingly bright.

“Japan?” I echo, exasperated. “Our fan meeting? Peanut, we have bigger problems than logistics right now.”

“Are you okay?” His voice softens, and I frown.

“I am, Peanut. I’ll call later.” I attempt to hang up, but he freezes my finger. “Pakkad,” he says, sharp.

“What?” I croak.

“I was confused, too. Why would she be on the plane with us? Her boyfriend is part of the cast, yes, but-”

I cut him off immediately, refusing to parse his words. I hang up and focus on driving, dizzy, and unsettled.

Miraculously, I arrive at the photoshoot location. Fans wait outside, expectant, and I give a half-smile as I rush inside. The studio is empty. Confusion hits me, and I almost called my manager before noticing a photographer packing up.

“Where’s everyone?” I ask.

“They decided to delay the shoot until another day,” she says, busy with her equipment.

The day grows stranger by the second. I try Smart again, no answer. Suddenly, an unknown number calls. I almost ignore it, but something in me freezes. I pick up, voice tight.

“Can you meet me now? I’m at the bar next to the studio. Steps away from where you're standing.”

I stop mid-step. A low panic settling in my stomach. I glance around, "Who is this?" I ask.

“Piraya,” she replies coldly. “Rabbit Hole. I know you know it.”

Here we go. My stomach twists, and my chest tightens. My first instinct is to call Smart, to know if he’s okay. But doubt gnaws at me. Does he already know? Is he there with her? I can’t waste time worrying over what I don’t know. I pull out my phone while walking, thumbs trembling slightly, and send him a message,

'I don’t know where you’ve been all morning. You’re not picking up, and I came to your house, but you already left. I’m worried about you. I’m about to meet Piraya at Rabbit Hole. I don’t know if you already know about that, but please call me when you can.'

Message sent. My hand lingers on the phone for a moment, as if holding it closer will bring an answer. I glance around the streets, familiar buildings, passing cars, people hustling to work, but everything feels phantasmagorical, disconnected, as if the world itself is holding its breath along with me.

With each step toward the bar, the tension coils tighter in my chest. I imagine the worst. My heartbeat thunders in my ears. My mind races through every scenario, each one more anxious than the last. Focus. You can’t lose it now. Not in front of her.

And then, finally, the bar comes into view. Neon letters flicker, casting uneven shadows across the sidewalk. I pause, letting myself take a deep breath, trying to steady the storm inside. But nothing truly calms me. I feel the weight of every step, every second since I woke up on that floor, every mistake I might have made yesterday, every drink I’d had that blurred my judgment.

I step inside, and the air feels thick, tinged with alcohol and murmured conversations. My eyes scan quickly, searching for her. And then I see her, Piraya. Sitting alone on one of the side bars, posture straight, expression unreadable. Cold and alculating. Everything about her screams control, precision, and threat.

I stop for a brief moment, letting the sight of her sink in. The tension in my body spikes again, but underneath it, there’s a pulse of determination. I can’t let her intimidate me, not when Smart is involved. Not when he matters more than any inconvenience, any manipulation, or drama.

I take another step towards her. “Here you are,” she says without looking up. I pull a chair and settle, asking the bartender if there’s any chance they serve coffee.

He gives me an apologetic smile. “Unfortunately, no. Only alcohol.”

“Perfect,” I mutter under my breath. "Exactly what the day needs."

He chuckles softly. “I can get you some water, though.”

“With ice, please,” I say, resting my elbows on the bar.

“Sure thing.”

He slides the glass over a moment later, droplets tracing lazy paths down the side. I take half of it in one go, hoping the cold will wake me up or at least sober up the mess inside my head.

“Why are you here? Why meet me?” I ask, trying to keep calm.

“What do you want from Smart?” Her gaze pins me. She knows the answer.

“You know he hasn’t attended rehearsals the last two weeks?”

“I only know that’s your concern. That’s for you and Smart to sort out.” I reply, not stuttering.

Her sharp words feel like acid, but I sip my water, steadying my nerves. “Break it down quickly. I don’t have time for lectures.”

“You’re an actor, Boom. Talented, successful. You don’t need Smart to complete your path. But he’s a singer, and he needs his agency as much as it needs him.”

I hear her, but I don’t listen. I don’t care about her or her agency. My focus is only on my man, and I know he is the happiest with me.

“Don’t be selfish. You’ve already taken what you needed, the series, the fame, the fans, the money. Isn’t that enough?” She says without hesitation.

I grit my teeth, my father’s temper is finally rising. “Not only are you desperate, Piraya, calling me, of all people, for help, but you’re also wasting time and money trying to control what was never yours to begin with. You think you can disrupt something your tiny mind can’t even begin to understand? I’m from Chonburi. I know the sound of a snake when it hisses in my yard. But we don’t kill them, we let them think they’re the hunters, the ones who plan, strike, and win. Smart and I, we’re ours. And nothing you do will ever change that.”

Her face flushes red. Satisfaction flares inside me.

“You’re wasting money sending Pakkad to Japan,” I continue. “Your broke agency will regret it soon.”

Smart appears at the door, scanning the room until our eyes meet. I raise a hand, and he follows immediately.

“What’s happening?” he asks, concern etched across his features.

“Nothing, babe,” I say, walking toward him. “Piraya’s just worried about your schedule.”

He raises an eyebrow, confused. I glance at Piraya. She forces a smile, clearly simmering. "Didn’t we talk about that at our urgent meeting yesterday?" He asks.

“Hey,” I say softly, taking Smart’s hand. “It’s okay. You know, she considers you a younger brother, treat her with respect.”

Smart bows slightly. “I’ll try to stay on schedule,” he says with guilt in his tone.

“And now, nothing else to clear?” I ask, teasingly. Only she and I catch the weight of my words.

“No. Nothing,” Piraya says stiffly, backing away.

We step outside. My fingers entwine with his. I feel the world settle around us, the chaos melting into our private bubble again.

Smart’s phone buzzes in his hand, and I reach over, blocking the call with a smirk. “Now you pick up calls?” I murmur, voice sharp.

He lets out a short, tired laugh. “You’re mad at me?”

“I am!” I snap, cheeks flushing.

He exhales, rubbing the back of his neck. “I know. And I deserve it. Yesterday, that urgent meeting completely drained me. It was too much, Boom. I felt overwhelmed. And today, I thought I was going to see you at the photoshoot, so I didn’t worry about picking up calls. I thought I’d explain in person. Then, the photoshoot got delayed, and everything went sideways before I even realized you were trying to reach me.”

I pause, letting his words sink in, my frustration is melting into something else, relief, mixed with lingering worry.

We reach the car. I slide inside, and he goes around to the driver’s side. The city noise fades, leaving just the low hum of the engine and the heat between us.

He turns slightly, eyes soft and vulnerable. “Are you still mad?”

“I was,” I admit, voice quieter now, heart still hammering.

“And now?” he murmurs, leaning just a little closer.

I roll my eyes, but a small smile tugs at my lips. “Now, I’m listening.”

He reaches for my hand, letting it rest against his chest, warm and steady. “I’m right here, Boom,” he whispers. “I’m yours.”

I trail my fingers along his chest, feeling the tension and warmth radiating from him. His hand slides over mine, guiding it lower, the weight of him grounding me. I can feel him pressing against me through the fabric, a steady and teasing assertion of possession.

“I’m right here,” he murmurs, his voice low and reverent, “all yours, Boom. And I can't wait to give you every inch of me.”

"In Japan." I say. And I enjoy his eyes snap open, startled with a spark of heat in his gaze.

“In Japan,” I repeat firmly. “I want to take it, to claim it all, and use it. Use it well.” I shift slightly, letting my hand press a little firmer over the fabric. I feel his dick getting tensed under my touch. Smart swallows hard, his breath hitching, and I can tell the way his eyes darken is both need and reverence. He leans closer, his forehead brushing mine. “You be like this, only for me?” he murmurs, teasing and almost breathless.

“Only for you,” I whisper back, my fingers trailing over him, slowly testing his patience. The heat of him under my hand is a thrill I don’t want to resist. “And you’re mine, Smart. Only mine.”

His hand finds mine, pressing it more firmly, guiding it over him, letting me explore every inch I want. My pulse hammers as I feel him respond through it, a subtle press, a shifting weight, his need spilling into mine.

He swallows again, voice rough with desire. “Boom, if we’re like this here, how am I supposed to wait until Japan?”

I smirk against his lips, teasing him with the words and the pressure of my hand. “You’ll survive,” I murmur, letting my fingers linger just long enough to make him shiver. “Barely.”

He groans softly, tilting his head back, eyes half-closed, holding me tighter. I press my body against his, feeling every line of muscle, every heartbeat. It’s a mix of possession, playfulness, and something deeper, trust and surrender, wrapped into a secret only we know.

“Do you know what you do to me?” he rasps, voice low and rough, every word dripping with need.

"You have no idea," I whisper, my lips brushing his ear, my breath making him shiver. My hand presses a little harder, tearing through the edges of restraint, the thrill of being unseen, only feeding the heat between us.

He bites his lip, swallowing, voice trembling. “You’re, unbearable.”

“Exactly,” I murmur, pressing just a little more insistently. “And only you get to handle it.”

The car feels like our entire world, the outside is fading completely. Every touch, every breath, every shiver is ours alone, a private, secret heat, intimate and possessive. I can feel the electric pulse of him through the fabric, every movement amplified by our closeness, by the thrill of knowing no one else sees, no one else exists but us.

He finally leans in, pressing his forehead to mine, eyes locking, sharing everything silently. “I’m yours,” he murmurs again, voice breaking slightly. “All of me, Boom. Here, now, in Japan, everywhere, always.”

And just like that, I accept 'always.'' Not out of belief, but out of want, because this time, I need it to be real, more than I ever have, and more than I ever will.

I smile, tracing him through the fabric, learning every edge by heart until Japan, when nothing will separate my touch from his skin. “And I’m all yours,” I whisper, “Every inch. Every part.”

His breath catches, and he shifts slightly, hand gripping mine over him. The heat between us is undeniable. “God, you have no idea what you're doing to me now.”

“I do,” I tease softly, letting the car vibrate with our shared tension. “And I love it.”

His phone rings again. I glare, protectively. “Not now,” I say firmly, keeping him focused on us, on this moment, our moment.

And in the quiet between the chaos, I realize this is where I belong. Right here. In his arms.

“This number keeps calling, though. Let me just check who.” He says gently.

I nod, and he answers the call. I can’t hear the voice on the other end, only the silence stretching, and tension is coiling.

Then Smart’s voice breaks.
“Which hospital?”

 

And the world stops breathing with me.

Chapter Text

“He’s going to be okay,” I whisper, though it sounds more like I’m praying for it to happen.

His hands are pressed together so tightly his knuckles have gone pale. I reach out, letting my fingers brush against his, hoping to pull him back from the darkness he’s been carrying alone.

The doors to the operating room swing open with a low hiss. A doctor steps out with a nurse trailing behind, their calm making the silence feel heavier than it should.

Smart is on his feet before I can even breathe. “Doctor. Is my dad safe?” he blurts out, his voice is cracking halfway through.

The doctor places a hand on his arm, gentle but firm. “The surgery went well. He’s out of danger now,” he says with a warm and reassuring tone, the kind of voice that makes the world start turning again.

Smart exhales, a trembling sound caught somewhere between a sob and relief. The doctor gives us one last comforting nod before walking off, his footsteps are fading down the corridor.

For a heartbeat, everything stands still. Then Smart turns towards me, and I watch the emptiness on his face collapse into tears. It happens so fast, like glass shattering under too much weight. His lips part, but no words come out. Just a sound that isn’t quite a sob, but close enough to break me with it.

He falls into my arms, and I catch him before he completely falls apart. His body trembles against me, every ounce of restraint is bleeding out as his fingers clutch at my back. I hold him tighter, feeling the frantic rhythm of his heartbeat against mine, fast and desperate.

I murmur against his hair. “He made it.”

Smart lets himself believe it. His breath steadies. The hallway hums back to life. But I keep holding him anyway, just a little longer because some reliefs are too fragile to let go of.

The air outside the hospital feels different. Lighter. Or maybe we’re just too drained to notice the weight anymore.

The ride back to Smart’s condo is mostly quiet. He stares out the window, the kind of silence that doesn’t need to be filled. I keep my hand near his, close enough that he could reach for it if he wanted to. He doesn’t. But he doesn’t move away either.

When we reach his place, he unlocks the door with shaky hands. The lights come on, pale and warm, wrapping the small condo room in a stillness that feels safer than it should.

Smart drops his bag on the floor and sinks onto the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees. He’s not crying anymore, but he looks emptied out as if the tears took everything else with them.

“You should rest a little,” I say softly.

“Can’t.” His voice comes out hoarse, half-broken. “If I close my eyes, I’ll see him lying there again.”

I sit beside him, careful not to crowd him. “He’s recovering well now,” I say gently. “The doctor said you’ll be able to spend time with him tomorrow.” I remind him, “Didn’t you hear him?"

Smart nods, but it’s the kind of nod that means I hear you, but I can’t believe it yet.

The silence stretches between us, heavy but not uncomfortable. I trace the wall, debating whether to ask, then I do.

“Has your dad always had problems with his heart?”

He freezes, just a second too long. Then, quietly, “Yeah. Since I was a kid. He used to hide it, said he didn’t want me to worry. But lately,” His voice cracks. “Lately, it’s been worse.”

I listen. That’s all I can do. Sometimes words don’t fix anything, they just take up space where grief should breathe.

He lets out a shaky laugh, one that doesn’t sound like a laugh at all. “You know what’s funny? I thought I was ready for something like this. I wasn’t.”

I shift closer, resting my hand on his back. “No one ever is.”

I look around, scanning his condo. The air feels small, but warm, filled with things that belong to him like my heart lately. I blink hard, trying to stop the tear threatening to escape, but it slips free anyway. I stand, leaning my back against the wall across from where he’s sitting.

“I hated my dad,” I say, my voice quieter than I expected. “I used to wish for his death when I was young. Every time I saw him wake up, I’d feel disappointed that he was still breathing.”

The words fly higher out of me before I can stop them, for the first time, they’re not just thoughts but sound. I’ve never told anyone that, but somehow Smart makes it feel safe to speak. I don’t even look at him. I don’t need to check if he’s judging me. Somehow I know he isn't.

“The day he actually died,” I continue with a breaking voice, “I stood there in denial. In disbelief and agony. I wasn’t ready for what I wished for. The first time I saw my dad not angry was when I witnessed the light drain from his eyes, when they turned glassy and empty. His body was cold, and his heart was too tired to fight anymore.”

I swallow hard, the words are burning their way out. “The house was silent that day. No shouting. No footsteps. It was only then, I realized I’d rather live with his anger than with that kind of quiet.”

My whole body feels cold, like I’ve stepped out of myself. For a moment, I feel distant from humanity, stripped bare. Then, slowly, warmth begins to crawl back into my chest. Smart has moved closer. He wants to hug me, but before he can, I reach for his hands instead.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I shouldn’t have made this about me. I was trying to comfort you. I guess I failed.”

He shakes his head, smiling softly, the kind of smile that feels like a touch. “Everything about you is related to me,” he says quietly. “You are related to me.”

He leans in, his face inching closer until I can feel the warmth of his breath. “At the hospital,” he says quietly, “you sat beside me for hours, asking questions, holding your breath every time a door opened. You tried to reassure me even though you were terrified yourself.”

He exhales, and a faint, broken smile touches his lips. “But it wasn’t my dad you were scared for. It was me. Because somehow, everything that has to do with me belongs to you now.”

“Smart, you’re_” The words stumble in my throat. I catch his eyes and see something there, something waiting, hopeful, like a child about to unwrap a long-awaited gift. The rush of what’s happening between us has already been too fast, too deep. But I’m long past the point of turning back. My ship is already in the middle of the ocean.

“You’re all I have,” I finally say.

He doesn’t wait for the sentence to finish. He closes the space between us, pressing his lips against mine. The kiss is desperate, tender, everything at once. I melt into it, my hands gripping the back of his neck like he’s the only thing keeping me grounded.

“I love you,” he murmurs on my lips. The words hit me like lightning, beautiful and terrifying at the same time.

I freeze. He pulls back slightly, his eyes searching mine. “Did I say something wrong?” he asks, glancing from my lips to my eyes, waiting for an answer I can’t give. Not now.

I swallow hard. “No, I just think you should rest,” I manage, turning towards the door to give him space and privacy.

He rushes over, pressing his back against the door, blocking my way out. “You don’t have to say it back,” he says softly, “but you don’t have to leave me alone tonight either, do you?”

His eyes plead in a way that words can’t. I wish I could answer them with certainty, with a yes that means forever. Instead, I nod.

Relief flickers across his face as he pulls me into a tight hug. “Tell me when I should say it again,” he whispers against my ear. Then he guides me to the bed as we’re too tired to do anything else, too drained even to shower or to think. We fall onto the bed, still dressed, still heavy with everything we’ve been through. He turns towards me, eyes soft in the dim light.

“Can we at least cuddle?” he asks.

I nod, and he pulls me close, wrapping his arm around me until our foreheads touch. His breathing evens out first, and for a moment, I let myself believe that maybe, just maybe, we’ve both found a place in each other to rest.

 

+++

 

Morning drifts in like a sigh, slow and heavy, spilling pale light across the edges of the bed. I stir first, careful not to wake him, but the weight of his arm draped over my waist pins me in place. His warmth presses into my back, grounding me in a way I didn’t realize I’d been craving. My fingers curl around his, memorizing the beat of his pulse beneath my hand.

Smart shifts behind me, nuzzling closer, and a low, incoherent hum escapes him. The sound makes my chest ache, relief, warmth, and something deeper, something hungry stirring inside me. I lean back slightly into him, feeling the gentle weight of his presence and the steady rhythm of his breathing.

I close my eyes for a moment, letting it sink in, this is him. My body feels anchored, my mind is silenced, and my heart is restless in a way I don't want to tame. He’s here, holding me, and again, it feels like we’re alone in this world, our world.

Smart adjusts slightly, loosening his hold so I can turn to face him. Our breaths are mixing in the gentle morning light. His hand lingers over mine. “Morning,” I whisper, brushing a strand of hair from his face.

His eyes flutter open, half-lidded, and then he smiles. That quiet, tired smile that somehow still manages to make my heart leap. “Morning,” he answers softly. “Did you sleep well?”

“Better,” I confess. “With you here, I think I finally could.” My hand drifts over his, and he intertwines our fingers without hesitation.

Finally, I take a deep breath. “Smart,” I murmur. “About what you said last night.”

He swallows, then lets a small smile curve his lips. “Hey,” he says softly, “It’s okay. You don’t have to give me an answer right now. I just needed to let you know how I feel. That’s all.”

“No,” I insist. “It’s not that I’m unsure about you, Smart. I- I just- I’m scared.”

He tightens his hold ever so slightly, leaning into me. “Scared? Of me?”

I shake my head, biting my lip. “Not you. Never you. I’m scared because I’ve been hurt before.” I take a breath before forcing the next words out. “It started with my dad, and it just kept going. Every person I let close enough to matter ended up breaking something in me. My relationships, my friends, they all hurt me in ways that felt untreatable.”

I swallow hard. “I used to trust so easily. I used to believe love was always enough. But after a while, it got harder. I kept giving and giving until there was nothing left of me to give. I loved everyone more than I ever loved myself because my dad taught me that I don't deserve to be loved.”

The words hang between us, heavy but honest. He doesn’t interrupt. He just tightens his hold around me, like he’s trying to tell me he’s not leaving, no matter how broken the story sounds.

I take another shaky breath. “Every time I trusted someone, I lost a piece of myself. They cheated. They left. Or worse, they changed. Turned into strangers I could no longer recognize.” My throat tightens. “I don’t want that to happen again. I don’t want to lose this. I don’t want to lose you.”

“Boom,” he exhales, his breath is warm against my skin. He's holding me as if he could anchor every broken piece of me. “I want you to feel safe with me. I’ll stay. I’ll fight for you. I see it now, maybe not the whole picture, but enough to understand. Your dad, the way he made you feel unworthy of love, the people who hurt you, who took your trust for granted. I get it. I get why you’re scared. Why letting someone in feels heavy and terrifying.”

He presses his forehead to mine. “But I’m not them,” he lets out softly. “I’m not going anywhere. Every fear you have, every scar you carry, I’ll hold it with you. You don’t have to say a word, you don’t have to give me anything you’re not ready to. Just let me be here. Let me stay. Let me fight for you. Because you deserve more than the pain they left behind, you deserve to be loved, Boom.”

His chest presses against mine, warmth sliding into my ribs. Every word feels like he’s staking a claim not on me, but on every piece of me I’ve hidden for so long. And for the first time in years, I feel like it’s not that scary to let someone fully in.

“Then promise me something first,” I whisper, fingers brushing along the side of his face. “Promise you’ll never change. Promise you’ll never leave me. No matter what.”

His lips press to my temple. “I promise. I’ll stay. I promise, I’ll hold every part of you. I won’t let go. I promise, I'll never change.”

I reach out, cupping his face with both hands, feeling the subtle warmth of his skin under my palms. “Then I have a promise for you too,” I whisper, letting a small, happy smile curve my lips. “In Japan, I’ll give you the answer you’ve been waiting for. And I’ll let you have me, all of me, in every way you want, just like I promised before. Away from the past, away from everything that’s ever tried to break us.”

“Tokyo,” he whispers, voice shaking slightly, “you really want it there?”

I nod, letting my forehead rest lightly against his. “Yes. I love that city. I want it to be ours. Our beginning.”

A soft grin tugs at his lips, a spark lighting in his eyes. “You make everywhere with you feel like home,” He whispers. “So I have no doubt Tokyo will fall for you too, and somehow, it’ll end up ours, like everything else you touch.” He leans closer, lips barely brushing mine, and murmurs against them, “But until then. I need you. Right here, right now. I need this warmth of you.”

I laugh softly, a shiver rolling through me as our noses brush. “Then I’m not going anywhere,” I exhale, closing the space between us.

We press together, faces inches apart. His hands move to my hips. Every hushed hum in my ear, sets fire to a need I’ve been holding back.

“I’ve waited too long,” he murmurs roughly with need, eyes locked on mine. “Just to be able to feel you this close.”

“You won’t have to wait anymore,” I let out a soft breath.

“In Japan,” his voice sounds thick with longing, brushing against me like a caress. “I want to see every inch of you, every reaction, every little sigh, every shiver you try to hide. I want to know how your body trembles when I touch you.”

His lips are grazing my ear, teasing and playful. “I want to hear every whispered word you can’t say.”

I smile softly, tracing a finger down the line of his neck. “I’ve imagined it too,” I admit with a low voice that also knows how to tease him. “The way you’ll look at me, and the way I’ll respond.”

“I want to feel you want me,” He says it, and I catch it, that quiet, teasing dominance slipping through, subtle but impossible to ignore. His eyes darken, and even in the soft morning light, I feel it pressing into me. “Not just say it, but show it, every time I touch you.”

I let my hand rest on his chest, feeling the quick pulse beneath my fingers. “And I want to memorize you,” Heat pooling low in my stomach. “Everything you will do to me, to my body,” My fingers twitch slightly, imagining it, and I can’t help but glance down at how hard he already is under my gaze. “I can’t wait for you to give it to me, and to see exactly how wild you'll become when you do.”

He smirks, eyes glinting with hunger. “I’ll make you mine, piece by piece, until you can’t remember what it felt like to be anyone else's but mine.”

His fingers tighten around mine, pressing them into the mattress. “So, tell me you’ll be fully ready for me in Japan. Tell me you want it as much as I do.”

I shiver, fingers entwined with his. “I’ll be ready, Smart” I whisper, voice shaky but eager. “Only for you.”

“Can I say it again now?” he murmurs, soft and low. “Just once?”

“No,” I breathe, and his brows furrow in that ridiculous, irresistible pout. “Not once. You can say it always.”

“I love you, Boom.”

And it doesn’t scare me, not this time. His voice seeps into the hollow parts of me, turning silence into something that feels like peace. Every word he breathes seems to stitch the pieces of me I left scattered in old heartbreaks. The pain that once defined me softens, replaced by warmth that feels ancient. I’ve never known safety could sound like this, or that love could feel like returning to a place I’ve never been, yet somehow always belonged.

I press my lips to his, and he pulls me closer, arms tightening around me until I’m trapped in the press of his chest. “I love you, babe,” he murmurs again, and I shiver at the sound.

I hug him tighter, hiding in the curve of his shoulder, letting my face press against the smooth line of his neck. The sunlight falls on us, but I barely notice, all I feel is him.

His hand slips into my hair. I tilt my head, brushing the line of his jaw with my lips, and he answers with a sound that hums against my skin. I close my eyes. Heat sinks into my bones as it always does whenever he's with me. And I stop chasing the next heartbeat.
Whatever this is, it feels like the end of the world and the beginning of the creation all at once.

I can’t wait for Japan, maybe even more than Smart does. I know it will accept us, belong to us, cradle our confessions, honor our promises, and hold nights where nothing exists beyond us.

Japan is where everything begins.