The phone screen glowed in Satang's hand, the video already on its second loop. Phuwin getting pressed against the corner of the GMMTV building, Pond's body curving around him like a shield, that hand tight on his waist — fingers spread, claiming. His own arms had gone around Pond's neck. The footage didn't lie. He'd melted into it.
"Shit," Phuwin breathed, lunging for the phone. "Who posted this? Who is this bitch? Sutt!"
Satang yanked the phone back, laughing, and Fourth doubled over against the car door. They were useless, both of them — tears and gasping, shoulders shaking. Fourth pointed across the parking lot.
"P'Pond!!"
Phuwin's head snapped around. Pond stood by his own car, phone in hand, screen tilted toward them. The glint of his smile carried across the asphalt even at this distance — that soft, knowing curve. He raised his free hand. Waved. Like he'd been caught sharing a secret and didn't mind at all.
Phuwin's face went hot. The kind of heat that started in his chest and climbed into his ears, his cheeks, the back of his neck. He spun back to Satang and Fourth, who were still laughing.
"You're both sutts," he said, shoving past them to yank open the driver's door. "Get in. Now."
The engine turned over with a low rumble that vibrated up through the steering wheel. Phuwin gripped it, leather warm under his palms, and watched Pond in his side mirror — still standing there, still smiling, still watching. He didn't look away until Phuwin pulled out of the spot.
Fourth leaned forward from the back seat, chin hooked over the passenger headrest. "'It's okay, my buddy.'" His voice went high, mocking. "'Your man just kissed you publicly in a corner of a building and you allowed him to do it.'" He dropped back. "That's the same person you told me — and I quote — used to fuck me in bed. The same person!"
"Fourth."
"I'm just saying!"
Satang snickered from the passenger seat, scrolling through his phone. "He's not wrong, Phu."
Phuwin's jaw tightened, but the corner of his mouth twitched. He reached across Fourth's lap, grabbed a plastic bag from the floor, and swung it. It connected with Fourth's shoulder with a soft thwack.
"Shut up."
"You hit me with shopping."
"You deserved it."
Fourth was grinning, rubbing his shoulder like it actually hurt. "You're so defensive. It's cute. Really."
Phuwin exhaled hard through his nose and pressed the accelerator. The car surged forward, engine growling, and he punched the window controls. All four rolled down at once. The evening air flooded in — humid, thick with the smell of Bangkok traffic and fried food from a nearby stall. He pressed play on his music, something upbeat and loud, and the bass hit before the first lyric.
"Are we ready to go now or what?" he said, louder than necessary.
Satang was already pulling out his phone, switching to the front camera. Fourth leaned into frame behind him, grinning wide, fingers hooked into a peace sign. Phuwin kept his eyes on the road, but he felt the camera on him — the flash of Satang's grin in his peripheral vision, the way Fourth started singing off-key into the mic.
The song swelled. Phuwin's shoulders loosened. He started humming, then singing — words he knew by heart, melody that lived in his bones. Fourth harmonized badly, deliberately, and Satang laughed through her verse. The wind ripped through the car, tangling their hair, carrying their voices out into the street.
Fourth held his phone out the window, recording the blur of streetlights and storefronts. "This is going on TikTok," he announced.
"If you make me look ugly—"
"You are ugly. That's not my fault."
Satang reached back and smacked his knee. "Be nice. He just got kissed."
Phuwin's grip on the wheel tightened, but he was smiling now. Actually smiling. The heat in his face had changed — less embarrassment, more of that buzzing, weightless thing that had started when Pond's mouth met his and hadn't stopped since.
They drove like that for twenty minutes. The music shifted through three playlists, Fourth's TikTok went through four takes, and Satang navigated with one hand while holding an iced coffee in the other. Phuwin let himself feel it — the easy rhythm of this, the way his friends filled every silence with jokes and nonsense and warmth. No one mentioned Tame. No one asked what came next.
The amusement park rose out of the skyline like a promise. Lights strung along the perimeter fence, the massive Ferris wheel glowing red and gold against the darkening sky, the distant shriek of riders on a drop tower. Phuwin pulled into the parking lot and cut the engine.
Silence rushed in, sudden and thick. Just the distant music from the park, the buzz of fluorescent lights overhead, the click of the engine cooling.
They got out. The air smelled different here — popcorn and diesel and the faint metallic tang of roller coaster tracks. The entrance gates loomed ahead, lit up like a carnival mouth, ticket booths already doing brisk evening business.
Fourth cracked his neck. Satang stretched his arms above his head. Phuwin stood between them, staring up at the tallest ride — a coaster that twisted and looped against the bruised purple sky, its cars climbing with a slow mechanical click-click-click before dropping into a scream.
They looked at each other. Fourth's grin was sharp. Satang's eyes sparkled. Phuwin felt something loosen in his chest — that tight knot he'd been carrying for months, the one that lived behind his ribs and woke him up at night. It wasn't gone. But it was quieter.
"Last one there buys dinner," he said.
Fourth took off before he finished the sentence. Satang cursed and sprinted after him, sandals slapping against the pavement. Phuwin ran too — legs burning, lungs already starting to ache, the wind cold against his face and his heart beating in his throat.
The gates rushed toward them, bright and loud and full of strangers who didn't know who he was. Who didn't know about the video. Who didn't know about Pond.
He laughed. Actually laughed — a raw, surprised sound that Fourth turned back to hear.
"What?" Fourth yelled, still running.
Phuwin just shook his head. Caught up. Shouldered past him through the entrance turnstile, the ticket scanner beeping as he pushed through.
"Nothing," he said, breathless. "Let's go."