The café smelled like burnt sugar and old espresso grounds, the kind of sweet-and-bitter that clung to the air and settled into your clothes. A sticky spot on the table pressed against Phuwin's forearm as he sat, watching the door swing open for the third time in as many minutes.
Pond had gone to order. That was six minutes ago.
Phuwin watched him at the counter—tall, broad-shouldered, impossible to miss in any room—and watched the girl who had materialized at his side. She tugged his sleeve, phone already up, her smile wide and practiced. Behind her, two more were waiting, phones out, giggling.
The café wasn't loud. But the sound of their laughter carried.
Pond's head turned. His eyes found Phuwin across the room—through the steam rising from the espresso machine, through the bodies shifting between them—and there it was. A silent apology. A flicker of I know, I'm sorry, give me a minute before he looked back down at the girl, offering that easy smile he gave everyone, the one that made half the campus want to climb him.
Phuwin looked away.
He stared at the menu board instead. The chalk lettering had started to smear. A lime green bubble tea. A matcha latte. A caramel frappe with whipped cream. None of it looked good anymore.
His jaw was set. He could feel it. Could feel the muscle tight there, the way his teeth pressed together, the way his hand had gone still on the table.
It wasn't her fault. He knew that. She didn't know. She saw the famous guy with the biceps and the gold chain and the smile that made girls drop their notebooks, and she wanted a piece of it. One photo. A memory. Something to post.
The problem wasn't her.
The problem was that Phuwin was sitting at a sticky table watching his boyfriend get passed around like a party favor, and he didn't know how to ask for it to stop without sounding like the jealous one.
Which he was. Fine. He was jealous.
He heard Pond's laugh—that loud, genuine thing that bounced off the café walls—and something in his chest pulled tight. Not anger. Something worse. Something smaller.
He kept his eyes on the menu.
Footsteps approached. A shadow fell across the table.
Then a hand—warm and wide and familiar—slid onto the small of his back. Palm flat. Fingers pressing just slightly, a question and an answer all at once.
"Hey." Pond's voice, low near his ear. Close enough that Phuwin caught the warmth of his skin, the faint salt of him. "I only see you."
Phuwin's shoulders softened. He hadn't realized how hard he'd been holding them. The tension bled out of his spine, just a little, just enough to breathe.
But he didn't turn around.
"You took a while," he said. Flat. Not accusing. Just stating.
"I know." Pond's thumb traced a small arc against his back, right over the fabric of his hoodie. "I'm sorry."
Phuwin exhaled. Slow. Then he turned.
He made his face soft. Let his bottom lip push out just a fraction—the pout Santa always said made him look like a kicked puppy. He let his eyes go wide, let his lashes do the work, let the whole thing sit on his face like a question he didn't have to ask.
Pond's expression cracked open. Melted. Fell apart like sugar in water.
"Phuwin—"
Phuwin kept the pout, let his eyebrows tilt up, let his voice go small. "You left me."
"I was ordering—"
"Alone."
Pond's mouth opened. Closed. He looked like a man watching his own car roll into a lake—helpless and completely gone. He pulled Phuwin closer, both arms now, wrapping around him until Phuwin's chest pressed against his, until the height difference meant Phuwin had to tilt his chin up.
"I'm sorry," Pond said again. His voice had gone rough. His hand came up to cup the back of Phuwin's head. "I'm really sorry. Come here."
Phuwin let himself be held. Let his face press into the curve of Pond's shoulder. The gold chain was cold against his cheek for a second before it warmed.
"What do you want to order?" Pond murmured into his hair.
Phuwin pulled back just enough to look at him. "I don't want coffee anymore."
"No?"
"I want to go to the mall."
Pond blinked. Then he laughed—that same bright, unguarded sound—and shook his head. "Okay. Mall. Done."
His arm stayed around Phuwin's waist as Phuwin bent to grab his bag from under the table. The pressure of Pond's body against his side was solid, grounding—Pond pressed himself close, chest to shoulder, following the bend of Phuwin's spine like he couldn't stand even an inch of distance.
Phuwin straightened, bag in hand. "Ready."
Pond's hand stayed on his hip as they walked out.
The car was cool inside, the leather seats catching the morning heat through the windshield. Pond opened the passenger door for him, one hand on the frame, the other reaching for Phuwin's bag. He took it, tossed it into the back, then stood there looking at Phuwin like he was waiting for something.
Phuwin looked up at him.
"What?"
Pond smiled. "Nothing."
He closed the door.
They pulled out of the lot fast—Pond's hand on the gear shift, his other on the wheel, the engine humming as he merged into traffic. Phuwin watched the city slide past the window. Cars. Scooters weaving between lanes. Street vendors setting up their stalls, umbrellas blooming like flowers. A group of schoolgirls walking arm in arm, laughing about something he couldn't hear.
A few girls on the sidewalk saw the car. Watched it pass. Then one of them pointed, elbowed her friend, pulled out her phone. Phuwin watched the camera lift, heard the distant click-click even through the closed windows. They were taking photos of the car. Of him. Of Pond.
Pond reached into the glove compartment and pulled out a pair of sunglasses. Black frames. He slid them on without looking, one hand still on the wheel, and his jaw tightened just a fraction.
His hand found Phuwin's waist.
Not the hip. The waist. His fingers curled over the curve, thumb pressing into the fabric of Phuwin's hoodie, as if he needed to confirm Phuwin was still there.
"You okay?" Pond asked.
Phuwin kept looking out the window. "Yeah."
Pond's thumb moved. A small stroke. "You sure?"
Phuwin turned. The afternoon light cut across Pond's face—highlighted the line of his jaw, the edge of the sunglasses, the slight furrow between his brows that meant he was worrying.
"I'm sure," Phuwin said, softer. "Just thinking."
"About?"
Phuwin let his head rest against the seat. "How different this is."
Pond glanced at him. "Different from what?"
"From before. When we weren't—" Phuwin gestured vaguely between them. "When I was just the guy you annoyed on purpose."
Pond's laugh was warm. "I still annoy you on purpose."
"I know."
"It's my favorite hobby."
Phuwin smiled. Didn't mean to. It just happened, pulling at the corner of his mouth. "Shut up."
Pond's hand on his waist tightened, just slightly, and they drove the rest of the way in a silence that felt like holding hands.
The mall parking lot was crowded, but Pond found a spot near the entrance. He killed the engine, pulled off his sunglasses, and turned to look at Phuwin with an expression that was almost shy.
"Ready to spend way too much money on you?"
Phuwin raised an eyebrow. "You're paying?"
"Obviously." Pond got out, came around, opened his door. "Get used to it."
Phuwin took his hand.
They walked through the mall doors together, fingers laced, and the air-conditioning hit them like a wall. The hum of the place wrapped around them—music from a speaker somewhere, the chatter of shoppers, the beep of a register. Light bounced off polished floors. The ceiling arched high above them, glass panels letting in the sky.
Phuwin let himself be pulled from store to store, his hand in Pond's, his bag slowly filling. A dress for Godji—pale yellow with small white flowers, something she'd wear on a slow morning behind the counter. A few tops for himself, soft fabrics in muted colors. Baggy jeans that made his hips look even smaller. A lip tint that caught his eye at the checkout—deep berry, almost wine. A gloss. A small purse that fit nothing but his phone and his lip tint.
Pond paid for all of it. Didn't even look at the prices. Just pulled out his card, tapped it, pocketed the receipt.
"You're going to bankrupt yourself," Phuwin said at the third store.
"Worth it."
"Pond."
"I'm serious." Pond turned to face him, a hanger in each hand. "Do you know how long I've wanted to do this? Take you shopping. Buy you things. Watch you hold up a shirt and decide if you like it."
Phuwin felt his ears go warm. "That's weirdly specific."
"I've thought about it," Pond said simply, and turned back to the rack.
Phuwin watched him. The broad line of his shoulders. The way his fingers moved through the fabric. The gold chain catching the light as he tilted his head, considering something.
Phuwin's chest felt too full.
He kept walking.
In the next aisle—the one with the plushies, rows of soft animals stacked on shelves—Phuwin stopped.
A bear. Brown. Round. Its arms were stretched out, like it was waiting for a hug. Its face was stitched into a blank, gentle expression, nothing too eager, just—there. Solid. Warm-looking.
Phuwin picked it up.
It was soft. The kind of soft that made your fingers sink in. He looked at it. Then he looked at Pond, who had stopped a few feet away, watching him with an expression that was trying to be casual and failing completely.
Phuwin held the bear up next to Pond's face.
Pond blinked. "What are you—"
"You," Phuwin said, and felt the blush climbing up his neck. "You look exactly like this bear."
Pond's ears went red. The color crept down to his cheeks, visible even under the warm store lights. His sunglasses were in his jacket pocket now, nothing to hide behind, and his embarrassment was written across his face in capital letters.
"I do not," he said.
"You do." Phuwin held the bear closer to Pond's face. "See? Same expression. Same—same presence."
"Presence?"
"Big. Warm. A little dumb."
Pond's mouth dropped open. He looked at the bear, then at Phuwin, then back at the bear. His blush deepened. "I am not a little dumb."
"You are. But it's cute." Phuwin put the bear back on the shelf. He patted its head once, then turned, heading toward the next aisle. "I'll find you something prettier."
Behind him, Pond stood frozen. His eyes stayed on the bear. Then, quickly—like he was stealing something—he reached out and grabbed it off the shelf. Tucked it under his arm. Walked after Phuwin.
Phuwin didn't turn around. But he noticed.
He noticed a lot of things.
The last stop was a store that sold accessories—bags and wallets and small leather goods. Phuwin picked up a few things for himself, a tiny crossbody bag in deep burgundy, a cardholder in the same shade. He was at the counter when the cashier looked up and her eyes widened.
She was young. Maybe a year or two older than them. Her name tag read Ming. She looked at Phuwin, then at Pond, then back at Phuwin, and her mouth formed a small O.
"You're—" She pointed at Pond. "You're that guy from TikTok. The one at the university. All the girls follow you around."
Pond's smile was easy. "That's me."
"Oh my god." She fanned herself with a receipt. "My friends are going to flip. They're obsessed with your videos. The one where you're at the gym? They've watched it, like, a thousand times."
Pond laughed. "Tell them I said thanks."
The cashier's eyes flicked to Phuwin. To the way he stood close to Pond. To the way Pond's hand had come to rest on his hip without either of them seeming to notice.
"Are you two—" She gestured vaguely. "Together? Dating or something?"
Phuwin's throat tightened. He didn't know why. It wasn't a secret. They'd confessed in front of a hall full of people. But something about saying it to a stranger, here in this bright store with its fluorescent lights and its rows of polished leather, made it feel different.
Pond didn't hesitate.
"Yeah." He smiled, the real one, the one he didn't give to the girls who tugged his sleeve. "We're dating."
Then he leaned in and kissed Phuwin.
It was soft. Brief. A press of lips, a brush of warmth, gone before Phuwin could fully register it. But it was public. In front of a stranger. In front of anyone who might walk through that door.
Phuwin pulled back, heart hammering. "Pond—"
"What?"
"We can't—" His voice dropped. "We can't just do that in front of people."
Pond's smile turned a little wicked. "I can't help it."
The cashier—Ming—was grinning now, clearly delighted. She finished scanning the items, bagged them efficiently, and read the total: "That'll be fifty-two thousand baht."
Pond pulled out his card without flinching. Swiped. Tapped. Waited for the beep.
The cashier handed Phuwin the bag. Then she turned to Pond, her eyes hopeful. "Can I get a photo? Just one. For my friends. They'll actually die."
"Sure." Pond stepped around the counter. He posed beside her—easy, practiced, one hand in his pocket—while she held up her phone. Click. Another. A third for good measure.
Phuwin watched. It didn't feel sharp anymore. It just felt like watching his boyfriend be nice.
Pond finished, thanked her, and crossed back to Phuwin. Without slowing down, he bent, hooked an arm under Phuwin's knees, and lifted him.
"Pond—!" Phuwin's bag swung. The bear plushie—Pond had it, tucked under his other arm—bounced against his back. "Put me down!"
"Nope."
"People are looking."
"Let them."
Phuwin's face burned. But he laughed—couldn't help it—and let his head fall back, let his feet kick out in front of him, let the weightlessness carry him through the store and out into the corridor. Pond carried him like he weighed nothing. Like he was something precious. Something worth holding.
"You're ridiculous," Phuwin said, but his voice was soft.
"You like it."
"I tolerate it."
Pond tightened his grip. "You love it."
Phuwin didn't answer. He just pressed his face into the curve of Pond's neck, breathing him in—the warmth, the salt, the faint cologne—and let himself be carried.
The food stall was tucked into a corner of the mall's lower level, a bright pop-up with fairy lights strung across its awning and a menu board covered in bubbly handwriting. Phuwin ordered a strawberry boba and a rainbow shaved ice, the kind that came in a paper bowl with condensed milk drizzled on top.
Pond paid. Again. Phuwin didn't even bother protesting.
They found a small table near the edge of the seating area. The chair scraped against the tile as Phuwin sat, dropping his bags beside him. Pond sat across from him, close enough that their knees bumped under the table.
The shaved ice arrived first—a mountain of pastel colors, pink and blue and green and yellow, all melting into each other. A drizzle of sweetened milk over the top. A spoon stuck in the middle like a flag.
Phuwin took his boba next. The straw pierced the seal with that familiar soft pop. He took a long drink, the tapioca pearls sliding up through the straw, and felt the sugar hit his system like a small, welcome shock.
Pond was watching him.
"What?" Phuwin said, the straw still between his lips.
"Nothing." Pond's smile was soft. "I just like looking at you."
Phuwin felt the warmth spread through his chest. He took another sip to have something to do, then set the boba down and picked up the spoon. He scooped a spoonful of the rainbow shaved ice—a perfect mix of colors, a bit of condensed milk pooling in the curve—and held it out to Pond.
"Open."
Pond blinked. "What?"
"Open. Try it."
Pond's ears went pink again. He leaned forward, opened his mouth, and let Phuwin slide the spoon in. His eyes stayed on Phuwin's the whole time.
He chewed. Swallowed. "That's really good."
"Right?" Phuwin took a bite himself—cold and sweet, dissolving on his tongue. "Best thing in the mall."
"Second best."
Phuwin looked up.
Pond was still watching him. "The best thing is you."
Phuwin's stomach flipped. He looked down at the shaved ice, scooped another spoonful. "You're so cheesy."
"You like it."
"I tolerate it."
Pond laughed, loud enough that a couple at the next table glanced over. He didn't seem to care. He reached across the table and took Phuwin's boba, pulling it toward himself for a sip. Phuwin watched his throat move as he swallowed.
"You're stealing my drink," Phuwin said.
"Sharing."
"Stealing."
Pond slid the boba back. The straw was marked with his lips now. "Go on. I don't have cooties."
Phuwin rolled his eyes, but he drank. The sweetness was the same. The pearls were the same. It tasted exactly like it had before, but somehow different.
Pond watched him eat. His hand found Phuwin's on the table—not grabbing, not demanding. Just resting there. Thumb brushing across Phuwin's knuckles.
"You're eating a lot," Pond said. Not accusing. Just noticing.
Phuwin paused, the spoon halfway to his mouth. "Maybe it's just pregnancy cravings."
Pond stared at him.
Phuwin took the bite. Chewed. Swallowed. Kept his face perfectly neutral.
Pond's expression cycled through shock, confusion, and then—slowly, inevitably—a laugh that he couldn't hold back. It burst out of him, loud and surprised, bouncing off the walls of the food court. A few heads turned. He didn't care.
"Pregnancy," he repeated, grinning.
"Mmhm." Phuwin took another bite. "You should be more careful."
Pond leaned forward, elbows on the table, his voice dropping to something warm and pleased. "Should I?"
Phuwin shrugged. "I'm just saying."
Pond's thumb was still moving across his knuckles. Slow. Steady. "I'll keep that in mind."
Phuwin took another sip of boba, then set it down. The shaved ice was melting—he'd have to finish it soon or it would turn into colored water. He scooped faster, feeling the cold ache at the back of his teeth, feeling the sugar settle in his bones.
Beside him, the bags from their shopping trip sat in a pile. The bear plushie—Pond had put it in a separate bag, one he kept close to his side—was visible through the opening. Its round face stared out at the food court like it was keeping watch.
Phuwin looked at it. Then at Pond.
"You actually bought it."
Pond's ears went pink again. "It's cute."
"You bought it because I said it looked like you."
"I bought it because you looked at it first."
Phuwin's heart did something complicated in his chest. He looked down at the shaved ice, at the colors bleeding into each other, at the spoon still in his hand. "Pond."
"Yeah?"
He didn't look up. "I really like you."
The table was quiet for a moment. Then Pond's hand—the one not holding his—reached across the table, fingers brushing Phuwin's jaw, tilting his face up.
"I really, really like you," Pond said. "Like. A lot. To an embarrassing degree."
Phuwin laughed, soft and surprised. "You're the one who's embarrassing."
"I know." Pond's thumb traced his cheekbone. "But you're stuck with me."
Phuwin let the moment sit. Let the noise of the mall wash around them. Let the cold of the shaved ice melt into something warm in his chest.
"Okay," he said. "I think I can live with that."
Pond's smile was soft. Real. His.
Phuwin went back to the shaved ice, and Pond went back to watching him, and the afternoon stretched out long and sweet and full of things neither of them had to say out loud.