The basketball court sat off the main path, a square of cracked asphalt where bodies in loose jerseys shouted and ran. Phuwin walked beside Santa, his painting tucked under one arm, the bag of supplies heavy on his shoulder. Siyh and Jungkook were behind them, arguing about something — a song, maybe, or a class — their voices a familiar warmth at his back.
He was thinking about the turtle. About the way it swam alone through the blue he'd mixed from three different tubes. About the photo still open on his phone, Pond's jaw outlined by light, the look in his eyes that Phuwin still didn't have a word for. He was thinking about what Siyh had said. Pond is waiting for you to take what he's already given.
The ball hit the painting before he saw it coming.
A wet thwack — mud and rubber against canvas — and the painting flew from his hand, landing face-down in a puddle left from the morning rain. Phuwin stopped. His bag slid down his arm. The ocean he'd painted was somewhere under that brown water, the rocks, the turtle, all of it.
"Hey!" a voice called from the court. "Pass it back!"
Phuwin closed his eyes. Counted to three. The air smelled like wet concrete and sweat. Siyh had gone quiet behind him.
He opened his eyes. The guy was already walking over — tall, broad-shouldered, biceps that strained his jersey sleeves. Big, but not Pond big. Never Pond big. The guy reached them and looked at Phuwin, his eyes traveling the length of him in a way that felt like hands.
"Sorry about that," the guy said. "Ball just flew off the hoop. Didn't see you there." His smile was easy, practiced. "I'm Saine."
Phuwin bent down to pick up the painting. Mud dripped from the canvas, brown streaks running through the blue, the turtle now a dark smear. He heard a low whistle behind him. Looked over his shoulder. Saine was staring at his ass, his lips parted, his eyes dark and slow.
Phuwin straightened. Held the ruined painting against his chest.
"I'm really sorry," Saine said, not sounding sorry at all. "Let me make it up to you. Come to my party tonight. No RSVP. Free."
"I don't even know you," Phuwin said. "And today's my birthday. I should be sleeping right now."
Saine's grin widened. "Birthday boy. Even better." He stepped closer, close enough that Phuwin could smell his cologne — something sharp and expensive. "You're too beautiful to be a man, you know that? What's your number?"
"I have other things to do."
"Name's Saine." He ignored the refusal entirely. "I want to see you tonight. At the party."
Phuwin opened his mouth to shut this down, but Siyh was already there, sliding past him with her phone out, her nails tapping against the screen. "Sure," she said, her voice sweet and sharp as honey over glass. "Here's his number."
"Siyh —"
Saine took the phone, saved the contact, handed it back. He winked at Phuwin — a slow, deliberate blink — and let his eyes travel down one more time before he turned. He picked up the ball, dribbled it once, twice, then jogged back toward the court. Halfway there, he looked back. At Phuwin's ass. Whistled. Then passed the ball to his friends.
Phuwin exhaled. "Why would you do that?"
Siyh shrugged, her smile unrepentant. "Now Pond has twice the competition. Saine versus Dice versus Pond. Who's going to win THE Phuwin?" She drew a huge circle in the air with both hands, the size of his ass. "We'll see soon. And sharing is caring."
He raised his hand like he was going to hit her. She ducked behind Jungkook, stuck out her tongue.
Santa picked up the fallen bag of supplies, his glasses catching the light. "She has a point. In a chaotic, morally questionable way."
Phuwin looked at the ruined painting. The mud had seeped into everything. The ocean was brown. The turtle was gone. He should feel worse about it, maybe, but the day was still young, and Siyh was already laughing, and somewhere across campus, Pond was probably wondering where he was.
They started walking again, Phuwin's bicycle waiting at the rack near the gate. Santa fell into step beside him, quiet and steady. Behind them, Siyh's hand landed hard on Phuwin's ass — a sharp, loud smack that echoed off the buildings.
"Hey!" He grabbed his ass, spun around. She was already behind Jungkook again, cackling, her eyes bright and mean and full of love.
Santa sighed. Jungkook grinned. And Phuwin, despite himself, was laughing as they reached the bike.
---
Godji's house was packed. The bakery had become something else for the evening — music bleeding through the walls, bodies spilling onto the porch, the sweet smell of pastries mixing with beer and perfume. Phuwin climbed the stairs to his room with his friends, the noise fading as they reached the second floor.
Siyh checked the clock on his nightstand. "Seven. We need to get you dressed. Something sexy. Something that'll make every boy go crazy and every girl jealous."
She unzipped her bag. Laid the outfit on his bed piece by piece, ceremonial, like an offering.
A crop top with ripped sleeves. Boots with heels and buckles, the legs baggy and loose at the ankles. A diamond belly piercing, the chain delicate and bright. A nose piercing, small and silver. Diamond grills for his teeth — the word Bitch spelled out in tiny stones. Very Short Baggy jeans with leather straps and ripped fabric, the waist loose, the legs wide. A bag with a long strap and charms that read Bitch, Sexy, Too Hot, decorative Thai flags in bubbly letters.
Phuwin stared at the bed.
"This is —" He didn't have the words.
"Exactly what you need," Siyh finished. "Get dressed."
She was already on her phone, her long nails — black with colorful charms — tapping as she sent messages. Inviting Pond. Dice. Her girlfriend, Tai. The party address. The time. Phuwin watched her thumbs move, watched the information leave her fingers into the world, and felt something loosen in his chest. He didn't have to do anything. Just put on the clothes. Just show up.
He dressed.
The crop top fit like it was made for him — tight across his chest, the ripped sleeves hanging off his shoulders. The jeans sat low on his hips, the leather straps and ripped fabric catching the light. The belly piercing glittered against his skin, the chain cold and then warm. The nose piercing caught his reflection. The grills sat over his teeth like a second mouth, diamond-hard and bright. Bitch.
Siyh had ruffled his hair — a casual, practiced gesture that left it falling over his eyes in a way that looked effortless and was anything but. He looked in the mirror. The person staring back had his face, his eyes, his body, but wore it differently. Like armor made of shine and edge.
Siyh whistled. Bit her lip. "You look like a total bitch."
"I look like one of those New York teenage girls who walk around with expensive things like hoes."
"Same thing. Turn around."
He turned. The jeans were loose but somehow made everything more obvious — the curve of his ass, the dip of his small waist, the way the fabric moved when he moved. Siyh licked her lips, theatrical, her eyes wide.
"Your legs," she said. "You have legs like a woman's. Not hairy like most men. And your ass is huge."
Phuwin looked over his shoulder at Santa and Jungkook. They were both staring. Santa's mouth was slightly open. Jungkook looked like he'd forgotten how to blink.
"Okay," Phuwin said. "Let's go."
---
The party swallowed them whole.
Lights strung across the yard pulsed red and blue, casting everything in a underwater glow. The pool was full of bodies — skin wet, drinks held high, laughter cutting through the bass. The house behind it was three stories of open windows and moving shadows. Music vibrated through the ground, through his chest, through the grills on his teeth.
Siyh had left her big bag at home. She carried only a purse now — phone, wallet, lip gloss — and had put something on Phuwin before they left. Cologne, maybe. Or pheromones. He didn't know. But heads turned as they walked through the crowd. Eyes caught on him like hooks.
Siyh found Tai near the bar — a girl with sharp features and kind eyes, her hair braided with gold threads. Santa and Jungkook melted into the crowd, grabbing drinks, finding their rhythm. Siyh kissed Tai long and slow, her hand on Tai's jaw, and then pulled away, lacing their fingers together.
And then Saine was there.
He appeared like he'd been waiting, his smirk already in place, his hand finding Phuwin's waist before Phuwin could step back. His fingers slid under the crop top, finding the bare skin above the waistband. Warm. Dry. Confident.
"Happy birthday," Saine said, his mouth close to Phuwin's ear. "You showed up."
Phuwin blinked. Pushed at his chest. Saine's grip tightened, his fingers pressing into the soft skin just above Phuwin's hip.
"I'm here with my friends," Phuwin said.
"You're here. That's what matters." Saine's thumb traced a slow circle on his waist. "Come find me later."
Phuwin pulled away harder, and this time Saine let him go, his grin undimmed, his eyes following as Phuwin walked toward Siyh and Tai. He could feel the gaze on his back. On his ass. On the way the loose jeans moved with each step.
Men stared. Women stared. The grills flashed every time he opened his mouth or licked his lips — a nervous habit, the unfamiliar weight of diamonds on his teeth making him run his tongue over them again and again. Each time, someone's eyes followed the motion. Each time, someone bumped into something.
And then Pond arrived.
Phuwin saw him before Pond saw him — the way he moved through the crowd, his shoulders broad under a black shirt, his jaw tight. Dice was there too, stepping out of a car at the same time, their eyes meeting across the driveway with a look that could have curdled milk.
Pond's gaze found Phuwin. For a moment, everything else fell away — the music, the bodies, the lights. Pond's eyes went wide. His throat moved. He was looking at the crop top, the belly piercing, the way the jeans hung low, the grills, the hair, all of it. His hand went to his chest, like he needed to check that his heart was still there.
He moved fast. Dice moved too, but Pond was faster.
Pond's hand found Phuwin's waist — high, just under his ribs, proprietary and warm. He leaned in and pressed his lips to Phuwin's, soft and quick, a kiss that tasted like the gum he'd been chewing and something underneath it, something that wanted.
"Happy birthday, babe," Pond said, his forehead resting against Phuwin's shoulder, his breath warm on the bare skin of Phuwin's collarbone.
Phuwin's heart stuttered. "We're not together."
"I'm struggling," Pond murmured against his skin. "Having to wait for the moment we start dating."
"You're going to have to keep waiting." Phuwin pushed his face away — gentle, playful — and bit his lip. The grills caught the light. Pond's eyes followed the motion, his jaw working.
Dice reached them. His hand slid around Phuwin's waist from the other side, low, familiar, his palm flat against the small of Phuwin's back. Pond's grip tightened.
"Happy birthday," Dice said.
Phuwin moved Pond's hand away and hugged Dice — a brief, warm press of bodies, Dice's hand coming down on his ass in a gentle smack. Dice looked over Phuwin's shoulder at Pond and smiled, slow and deliberate.
"Stop doing that," Phuwin said, pulling away, hitting Dice's chest lightly.
Pond pulled Phuwin back by the waist, his hand firm. "Want to get drinks?"
Phuwin looked at him. The grills flashed as he ran his tongue over them. "Sure." The word came out slow, drawn out, the vowel curling at the end.
Santa whistled from somewhere behind them. Jungkook grinned wide. "The love in the air feels so disgusting and rivaled," he said, loud enough for the group to hear.
"I'll be back," Phuwin said, and let Pond lead him by the hand toward the bar.
---
The bar was a long table in the backyard, bottles lined up like soldiers. Pond ordered them something strong — whiskey, maybe, or something that burned going down. They drank. They talked. The party moved around them but the space between their shoulders stayed still.
Pond's hand was on his knee under the table, thumb tracing idle patterns on the exposed skin above the ripped fabric. Phuwin let it stay there. The grills flashed. He bit his lip, watching Pond's eyes follow the motion, watching his jaw tighten.
For a moment, the party did fall away.
Pond looked at him — really looked, not at the outfit or the piercings or the grills, but at him — and something in his expression shifted, softened. His thumb stopped moving. His hand was just there, warm and heavy, a question shaped like a palm.
"I missed you," Pond said. Not loud. Not a line. Just a fact, spoken into the space between their drinks.
Phuwin's chest did something complicated. He set his drink down. Lifted his leg, laying it across Pond's lap, the fabric of the loose jeans riding up to show the pale skin of his thigh. Pond's hand found it automatically, his fingers brushing the exposed skin.
Then Phuwin moved his leg. Stood up. The spell broke, or he broke it, and he was walking back to his friends, the beat pulling him forward, the lights painting his skin red and blue.
He danced with them. Siyh and Tai. Santa and Jungkook. The music was loud and low, a bass that lived in his bones, and he let it take him. He bent at the waist, his ass moving in a rhythm that felt older than thought, his hands on his knees, the crop top riding up. Siyh cheered. Her hand came down on his ass, hard and laughing. Santa whistled. Jungkook yelled across the crowd: "Pond! Get your wife!"
From the bar, Pond was watching. His drink was in his hand, his other hand resting on his thigh, his eyes fixed on the way Phuwin moved. On the curve of his ass, the jiggle, the way the loose jeans couldn't hide anything. His jaw was tight. His eyes were dark.
Dice watched from the other side, his drink slow at his lips, his gaze following every movement.
Saine watched from his group of friends. Someone was filming on a phone. Someone laughed. "Where'd you find him?" a voice said. "He's a good shaker."
Saine shrugged. Took a long drink. Smiled.
Phuwin threw it back — twerking, Siyh called it, her phone out, recording, her other hand smacking his ass again — and the music swallowed him whole, and the eyes were on him, all of them, and he let them look.
---
Later — an hour, or two, or a lifetime — Siyh pulled him toward the bathroom. Tai followed. The room was humid, the mirror fogged, the air thick with perfume and the ghost of bodies that had been there before them.
Siyh handed him swimwear. Tight shorts with designs and charms, the fabric barely there. A swimming crop top that matched, his belly piercing still in, the nose piercing bright, the grills still flashing when he ran his tongue over them.
"Change," she said, already in her bikini, already fixing her hair. "Pool time."
He changed. The shorts were indecent — that was the only word for it. They cupped everything, showed everything, the charms dangling from the waistband catching the light. The crop top was thin and white, transparent when wet, the diamond of the belly piercing visible through the fabric.
They walked out to the pool. The water was lit from below, blue and green and gold, bodies moving through it like fish. Phuwin stretched at the edge, his hips rolling, his arms lifting over his head. The grills caught the light. The piercings caught the light. Everything caught the light.
Pond was already in the water. He'd taken off his shirt and jeans, wearing only swimming trunks that sat low on his hips. His shoulders were broad, his chest defined, his biceps huge — bigger than anyone else's at the party, bigger than anyone's on the street, bigger than anyone's anywhere near here.
He waded toward Phuwin, water streaming down his chest, his eyes fixed and dark.
Phuwin stepped into the pool. The water was warm, almost body temperature, lapping at his waist, his chest, the charms on his shorts floating. Pond reached him. His hands found Phuwin's hips, pulling him close, and Phuwin let himself be pulled.
He kissed Pond. Deep. Open. His hands found Pond's shoulders, then slid down his chest, down his stomach, down to the waistband of his trunks. Under the water, his fingers found what they were looking for — the hard length of Pond's cock, thick and long, straining against the fabric.
Pond gasped against his mouth. Phuwin pulled at the waistband, freeing him, his hand wrapping around the shaft under the water. The party continued around them — music, laughter, splashing — but the space between their bodies had gone quiet and dark and full of need.
Phuwin lifted his legs, wrapping them around Pond's waist. With his free hand, he pushed the fabric of his shorts to the side — just enough, just barely — and positioned himself. Pond's hands found his waist, his hips, guiding him down.
He sank onto him in one slow, deliberate motion. The stretch was a shock — a fullness that made his breath catch, his hands tightening on Pond's shoulders. Under the water, hidden from everyone, they were connected.
Pond held him. Waited. Let him adjust. His forehead pressed against Phuwin's, his breath coming in short, hot bursts.
Then he moved.
The first thrust was deep and slow, a full press that made Phuwin's mouth fall open. The water moved around them in gentle waves, hiding everything, revealing nothing. Phuwin bit his own lip to keep quiet — the grills clicking against his teeth — but a sound escaped anyway, a low, broken thing that Pond swallowed with his mouth.
Pond fucked him against the pool wall, his hands gripping Phuwin's waist, his hips driving up in a rhythm that was rough and relentless. Phuwin held onto his shoulders, his face buried in Pond's neck, his teeth finding skin. The water sloshed around them. The music played on. Someone laughed nearby and didn't see a thing.
Phuwin's hand found the pool edge, gripping, his knuckles white. The grills flashed. The piercings caught the light. And inside, where no one could see, he was being taken apart, piece by piece, by a boy who had waited for him all along.