When Phuwin opened his eyes, the light was wrong — pale and gray, not the deep dark of the hour he'd finally fallen asleep. His head ached with the ghost of soju, and his mouth tasted like toothpaste and regret. He lay still for a moment, feeling the warmth of Siyh's hand still loosely holding his, hearing Santa's soft breathing from the foot of the bed, Jungkook's deeper rhythm from the floor. Then the memory hit him like a door swung open: the streetlight, the confession, the kiss. Pond's mouth, cold and warm. The taste of night air and something like hope.
He sat up too fast. The room spun. Siyh stirred, murmured something, rolled over. Phuwin pressed his palms to his eyes and counted to five. He needed to go downstairs. He needed water. He needed to see if Pond had actually been there or if he'd dreamed the whole thing.
The floorboards creaked under his bare feet as he eased out of bed, careful not to wake anyone. His hoodie from last night hung loose on him, wrinkled, smelling faintly of boba and the rooftop. He didn't bother fixing his hair — it was a lost cause. He padded down the stairs, one hand on the wall, the wood cool and familiar under his soles.
The bakery smelled of yeast and sugar, the morning's first batch of bread cooling on the counter. Steam fogged the front window, and the warmth hit his face like a hug. Godji was at the sink, wiping a table with a damp cloth, her apron dusted with flour. She looked up when she heard him, and her expression shifted into something far too knowing for this early.
"Good morning, sleepy," she said, her voice warm but laced with mischief. She tilted her head toward the corner. "You have a visitor."
Phuwin's stomach dropped. He turned, and there he was — Pond, sitting at the small table by the window, his coffee growing cold between his palms. He was still in the same dark shirt from last night, his hair slightly disheveled, dark circles under his eyes as if he hadn't slept either. But his gaze was locked on Phuwin with a raw, stripped-open vulnerability that made Phuwin's breath catch. The morning light caught the curve of his jaw, the way his lips parted slightly when he saw Phuwin. He didn't say good morning. He just waited, a quiet smile threatening the edges of his mouth, as if asking: Was last night real?
Phuwin felt his ears burn. His pulse went from zero to frantic in a single beat. He stood frozen for two seconds, three — then he turned on his heel and walked back up the stairs, his bare feet slapping against the wood, his heart hammering so loud he was sure Godji could hear it.
"Phuwin?" Godji called after him, but he was already gone.
He made it back to his room, closed the door, and leaned against it, breathing hard. Siyh was sitting up now, her hair a messy cloud, squinting at him. Santa was propping himself on one elbow, and Jungkook was rubbing his face from the floor.
"What happened?" Siyh asked, her voice groggy but sharp.
"Nothing," Phuwin said. His voice cracked. "Nothing happened."
"Liar." She was already grinning. "I saw you last night. From the window. The whole thing."
Santa's eyebrows shot up. Jungkook let out a low whistle.
"You saw —" Phuwin's mouth went dry. "You were supposed to be asleep."
"I woke up to pee. And there you were. Making out with Pond on the doorstep like some kind of rom-com protagonist." Siyh's grin widened. "It was cute. Very dramatic. The streetlight really did you favors."
Phuwin wanted to sink through the floor. He pressed his forehead against the door. "I can't do this. He's sitting down there. He looks... he looks like he's been waiting all night."
"So go back down," Santa said simply, adjusting his glasses.
"I can't."
"Why not?" Jungkook asked, sitting up fully now, his voice gentle.
Phuwin didn't have an answer that made sense. Because he was scared. Because the confession had been easy in the dark, under the streetlight, when the whole world was sleeping. But now it was morning, and Pond was real, and the memory of his mouth was still there, and Phuwin didn't know what to do with it.
"You're being an idiot," Siyh said, but her voice was affectionate. She swung her legs out of bed. "Fine. We'll go down first. You get yourself together. But if you make him wait too long, I'm telling him you're scared."
"I'm not scared."
"You're literally hiding in your room."
Phuwin had no comeback. Siyh pulled on a jacket, Santa stretched, and Jungkook ran a hand through his hair. They filed past him into the hallway, Siyh pausing to squeeze his shoulder. "He's into you. Like, really into you. You saw how he looked at you last night. Just breathe."
Then they were gone, their footsteps descending the stairs, and Phuwin was alone in the quiet room, the desk lamp still glowing from the night before.
He heard the murmur of voices downstairs. Siyh's laugh. Santa's low rumble. Then a different voice — deeper, warm, a little tired — and Phuwin's chest tightened. Pond was talking to them. He could hear the smile in his voice, the ease. God, how did Pond do that? How did he sit there after a night of waiting, with cold coffee and dark circles, and still sound like the sun?
Phuwin sank onto the edge of his bed, hands clasped between his knees. He stared at the worn floorboards, at the dust motes floating in the morning light. His phone buzzed. He picked it up.
Pond: I see your friends are down here. Are you coming?
His thumb hovered over the keyboard. He typed three different replies and deleted all of them. Finally, he just wrote: In a minute.
Pond's reply came instantly: I'll wait.
The simple words undid something in him. He set the phone down, ran both hands through his tangled hair, and stood up. He didn't fix anything — he didn't have the energy to pretend. He just opened the door and walked back down the stairs, his steps slower this time, more deliberate.
The bakery had come to life. A few customers sat at tables, nursing coffees. Godji was behind the counter, sliding a tray of pastries into the display case. And at the corner table, Pond was still there, now flanked by Siyh and Santa, Jungkook leaning against the wall nearby. Siyh was saying something that made Pond laugh — a real laugh, warm and surprised — and the sound of it made Phuwin's stomach flip.
Santa spotted him first. He raised his chin in acknowledgment, then nudged Pond, who turned and saw Phuwin standing at the bottom of the stairs.
The laugh faded from Pond's face, replaced by that same open, vulnerable look from before. He didn't stand up. He didn't rush over. He just waited, a small smile pulling at his lips, his dark eyes holding Phuwin's like a question.
Phuwin crossed the bakery. His feet felt like they belonged to someone else. He reached the table, and after a beat of silence that felt like an hour, he slid into the chair across from Pond.
Up close, Pond looked even more exhausted — the shadows under his eyes, the slight roughness in his jaw, the way his shirt was wrinkled as if he'd slept in it. But his eyes were clear, focused entirely on Phuwin, and there was something in them that made Phuwin's throat tight.
"Hey," Pond said softly.
"Hey." Phuwin's voice came out smaller than he wanted. He cleared his throat. "You didn't sleep."
"Didn't want to." Pond's fingers curled around his cold coffee cup. "I was afraid if I closed my eyes, I'd wake up and it wouldn't be real."
Phuwin's chest ached. He looked down at his hands on the table, then back up at Pond. "It's real."
"I know." Pond's smile widened, just a fraction. "I just needed to hear you say it. In the daylight."
The bakery hummed around them — the hiss of the espresso machine, the murmur of conversations, the clink of cups. Siyh had drifted to the counter to chat with Godji, Santa and Jungkook were pretending to study a pastry display, giving them space. The morning light streamed through the foggy window, painting everything in gold.
"So," Pond said, leaning forward slightly. "What happens now?"
Phuwin thought about running again. He thought about making a joke, deflecting, hiding behind annoyance like he always did. But Pond was looking at him like he was the only thing in the room, and Phuwin was so tired of pretending he didn't want this.
"I don't know," he admitted. "I've never done this before. The — the real thing. With someone I actually..." He trailed off.
"Someone you actually what?" Pond's voice was soft, coaxing.
Phuwin met his eyes. "Someone I actually like."
The smile that broke across Pond's face was worth every second of panic. It was bright and unguarded, boyish in a way that made him look younger. He reached across the table, his hand landing next to Phuwin's, not quite touching. "I like you too. A lot. So let's figure it out together, okay? One step at a time."
Phuwin's fingers twitched, and then — before he could overthink it — he turned his hand over, palm up, an invitation. Pond's fingers slid into his, warm and calloused, and the contact sent a shiver through him.
"One step," Phuwin repeated, barely a whisper.
Pond squeezed his hand. "Yeah. Starting with breakfast. And you're not allowed to run back upstairs this time."
Phuwin let out a breathy laugh, the tension in his shoulders finally loosening. "Fine. But you're buying."
"Deal." Pond's thumb traced a slow circle on Phuwin's knuckle — a small, deliberate touch that said more than words could. And for the first time that morning, Phuwin didn't want to run. He wanted to stay right here, in the steam and sugar, with Pond's hand in his and the sunlight warming their clasped fingers.
The bakery doorbell chimed as a customer entered, bringing a gust of cool air. But neither of them moved. Pond's thumb kept that slow, steady rhythm on Phuwin's skin, and Phuwin let his eyes drift closed, just for a moment, letting himself believe that this was real. That the waiting was over. That something new had begun.