Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Six months changed things quietly. Not the way headlines liked to imply. Not the way fans theorized. There were no reveals timed for maximum impact, no sudden tonal shifts that could be traced back to a single moment. Just consistency. Just time doing what it always did — sanding the sharp edges down into something livable.

Pond and Phuwin didn’t hide. They also didn’t announce anything. They showed up where they were scheduled to be. Stood where they were told. Answered questions the way they always had. Professional. Polite. Unremarkable on paper.

In practice, it was harder to miss.

Pond laughed more easily now. Not louder — warmer. His attention moved differently, instinctively, like he was always aware of where Phuwin was in a room even when he wasn’t looking at him directly. His posture loosened faster. His silences didn’t feel guarded.

Phuwin, for his part, had stopped pretending not to notice.

At a press event indistinguishable from a dozen others before it, they ended up on the same stage. Not side by side. Not separated. Just… aligned. Close enough to register, far enough to remain deniable.

A question came about upcoming schedules.

Phuwin answered first, voice steady, posture relaxed. Pond listened — actually listened — the corner of his mouth lifting before he caught it. When Phuwin finished, Pond nodded once, almost imperceptibly, like he agreed with something deeper than the answer itself.

Cameras clicked. Nothing happened. And yet.

Joong noticed. He leaned slightly toward Aou, barely moving his lips. “Look at him.”

Aou followed his gaze. Watched the way Pond’s expression shifted when Phuwin laughed softly at something off-mic. The way Pond’s shoulders dropped, like his body recognized safety before his thoughts caught up.

“Oh,” Aou said. “That’s bad.”

“What?” Santa murmured from behind them, already suspicious.

Aou didn’t look away. “He’s gone.”

Santa squinted. “P'Pond?”

“Completely,” Joong said, fond and precise. “Look at that face.”

Onstage, Phuwin glanced sideways without meaning to. Caught Pond watching him. Their eyes met for half a second. Pond smiled. Not the public one. Not the practiced one. Something softer slipped through before he could stop it.

Phuwin’s lips curved in response, automatic and unguarded. It was gone almost immediately. Both of them resetting — eyes forward, expressions neutral. Too late.

Gemini leaned closer to Fourth, grinning. “They’re doing that thing again.”

Fourth blinked. “What thing?”

“That,” Gemini said, nodding subtly. “The micro-smiling.”

Fourth watched more carefully this time. Caught it on the next pass — the way Phuwin’s focus sharpened when Pond spoke, like the rest of the room dimmed just enough to make him stand out.

“Oh,” Fourth said slowly. “Oh.”

After the event, they regrouped in a quieter hallway, staff flowing around them in practiced choreography. Jackets adjusted. Phones checked. Someone complained about the lighting.

Joong didn’t waste time. “You know we can all see it, right?” he said mildly.

Pond blinked. “See what?”

Santa laughed under his breath. “Don’t.”

Aou crossed his arms, amused. “You’re not obvious. You’re just… transparent.”

Phuwin raised an eyebrow. “Is that a critique?”

“An observation,” Gemini corrected cheerfully. “A very affectionate one.”

Pond glanced at Phuwin, then back at them. “We’re not doing anything.”

“No,” Joong agreed easily. “That’s the point.”

They laughed — soft, fond, unsurprised. Because nothing about this felt shocking anymore. It felt inevitable.

Later, as they walked out separately like they always did, Pond caught Phuwin’s eye from across the lot. No cameras. No crowd. Just a moment between obligations. Phuwin smiled. Pond smiled back.

Six months in, they still weren’t showing anything. They didn’t need to.

Whatever this was had settled into them — visible only in the small, unguarded moments they forgot to manage.

And maybe that was the point.

They didn’t pick somewhere obscure. That was the difference now.

It was a café they both liked — quiet, but not hidden. Just far enough off the main street that people came here to sit, not to scan the room. A place with regulars, background music that never demanded attention, and a rhythm that didn’t change just because two familiar faces walked in.

Six months ago, Pond would’ve clocked every table on instinct. Now, he arrived first and let himself settle.

He shrugged his jacket off and draped it over the chair across from him, ordered without overthinking, and checked his phone only once before setting it face down. When the door opened a few minutes later, he looked up automatically. 

Phuwin caught his eye immediately and smiled — not wide, not careful. Just the kind that showed up when he didn’t have to manage himself.

“You ordered already?” Phuwin asked as he slid into the seat.

Pond nodded. “I remembered what you like.”

Phuwin paused, something warm flickering across his expression before he laughed quietly. “Right. Of course you did.”

They didn’t reach across the table. Didn’t lean closer than necessary. To anyone passing by, it looked like two friends catching up between schedules. To them, it felt steadier than that.

Pond talked about rehearsal — about how one routine still refused to click, how his body understood it but his timing didn’t. Phuwin listened with his chin resting against his knuckles, attention unbroken.

“You do that thing again,” Phuwin said.

Pond blinked. “What thing?”

“You explain movement like it’s a feeling instead of a step.”

Pond smiled, faintly self-conscious. “It makes sense in my head.”

“It makes sense,” Phuwin said easily. “That’s why I like listening.”

The word slipped in without ceremony. No pause. No recalibration.

They ate. They talked about nothing — a show Phuwin had half-watched, a place Pond wanted to visit when schedules finally aligned, a mutual friend who had absolutely overshared in a group chat. The kind of conversation that filled time without needing to justify itself.

At some point, Pond reached for his glass at the same time Phuwin did. Their fingers brushed.

Six months ago, one of them would’ve pulled back immediately. Now, neither did.

The contact lingered — brief, unremarkable, unmistakably chosen.

Phuwin looked up first, amusement flickering in his eyes. “We’re bad at pretending.”

Pond shrugged, unbothered. “We’re not pretending.”

Phuwin considered that for a beat, then nodded. “Fair.”

Someone at the next table glanced over, recognition sparking — not alarm, just curiosity. Pond noticed. Phuwin did too. Neither of them shifted.

The moment passed, unclaimed and unresolved, the way most things did now.

When they stood to leave, Phuwin reached out without thinking and adjusted Pond’s collar — quick, casual, the kind of touch born from familiarity rather than intention. Pond stilled anyway.

“You good?” Phuwin asked, already half-smiling.

“Yeah,” Pond said. Then, softer, more honest, “Just… used to you now.”

Something in Phuwin’s expression softened at that. Not surprise. Recognition.

Outside, the afternoon was warm. Not bright enough to demand sunglasses. Not dim enough to rush. The city moved around them at a tolerable pace.

They walked side by side, not touching, their steps matching without effort.

“Same time next week?” Pond asked lightly, like it wasn’t a question that carried weight.

Phuwin didn’t hesitate. “Yeah.”

They split at the corner the way they always did — no lingering, no spectacle.

But when Phuwin glanced back once, Pond was already looking. They smiled.

Not for anyone else. Just because.

It didn’t start as a headline. It never did. It started as a photo taken from the wrong angle — grainy, off-center, caught mid-laughter. Pond leaning forward slightly, elbow on the table. Phuwin turned toward him, expression softened in that way cameras always noticed even when people didn’t. No hands touching. No obvious intimacy. Just proximity, framed badly.

Someone posted it with a caption that pretended to be casual.

is it just me or…?

By the time Pond saw it, the comments were already unspooling into chaos.

WAIT WAIT WAIT ⛔
pls tell me i’m not hallucinating 😭
NOT THEM AGAIN I’M TIRED 💀
why is he looking at him like THAT 😵‍💫
oh my god we said this SIX MONTHS AGO 📆
I TOLD YALL I TOLD YALL 🗣️
this is NOT a coincidence anymore ❌
they’re literally just sitting there 😭😭
that is a FOND LOOK if i’ve ever seen one 🫠
why are they always together by ACCIDENT 🤨
THIS IS HOW IT STARTS AGAIN 🔥
no because if this is “nothing” then what is SOMETHING 🤡
my delusions are being FED 🍽️
management shaking rn 🫡

Pond stared at his phone longer than necessary. Not because his chest was tight. Not because his stomach dropped. Because he recognized the rhythm.

Across the city, Phuwin was doing the same thing — scrolling, registering, not reacting.

Their messages crossed within seconds.

Pond:
so

Phuwin:
yeah

Pond huffed out a quiet laugh, more amused than anything.

Pond:
we really can’t win, can we

Phuwin:
apparently not

Pond kept scrolling, slower now. The tone was familiar — recycled theories dressed up as discovery, breathless certainty built on nothing more than angles and wishful thinking.

BUT.

It didn’t feel sharp anymore. It felt… tired.

Pond:
are you okay?

Phuwin didn’t answer immediately this time. When he did, it was honest.

Phuwin:
yeah
just tired of déjà vu

Pond leaned back against the couch, ceiling fan spinning lazily above him, the room calm in a way the internet never was.

Pond:
we didn’t even do anything

Phuwin:
we existed
recklessly

Pond laughed — real, unguarded.

Pond:
how dare we

A pause settled between messages.

Then—

Phuwin:
do you regret it?

Pond didn’t hesitate.

Pond:
no

The reply came immediately.

Phuwin:
me neither

Something in Pond’s chest eased — not relief, exactly. Confirmation.

Pond:
they’ll move on again

Phuwin:
they always do

A beat.

Then—

Phuwin:
but this time
we’re not guessing

Pond’s thumb hovered for a second before he typed.

Pond:
yeah
this time we know

The rumors kept spreading. Threads bloomed, burned, bloomed again. Accounts speculated. Old clips resurfaced like evidence in a case that had never closed. Friends sent screenshots with captions that tried to be funny and landed somewhere between fond and exasperated. Managers said nothing — which, somehow, said enough.

Pond set his phone down. So did Phuwin. They didn’t rush to control the narrative. Didn’t disappear. Didn’t perform defiance. They went on with their evening.

Later, when Pond passed a mirror, he caught his own reflection — steady, calm, unflinching.

This time, the noise didn’t feel like a threat. It felt like weather. Unpredictable. Loud. Temporary.

And this time, he knew exactly where he was standing. Somewhere warm.

Phuwin doesn’t overthink it. That’s how he knows it’s right.

He scrolls once. Twice. Stops on a photo he took without intention — late afternoon light slanting across a café table, the edge of a cup caught mid-shadow, Pond half-turned toward him in the middle of saying something unimportant. His expression is open. Unaware. The kind of softness that only exists when no one is performing.

The photo isn’t perfect. That’s why Phuwin chooses it. No filters. No adjustments. No framing to guide interpretation. Just a moment that had already decided what it was before anyone else could.

He posts it without explanation.

📷 @phuwintang
taking it slow.

No emojis. No tags. Comments left on.

---

It takes less than a minute.

Pond sees it while brushing his teeth, foam still at the corner of his mouth. He freezes, phone in hand, staring at the screen like it might change if he looks away. Then he grins — wide, unguarded, a little disbelieving — and lets out a quiet laugh.

He doesn’t text. He comments.

@pondnaravit
always ☺️

---

Their friends arrive almost immediately. No hesitation. No theatrics.

@chen.rcj_
finally 😌

@dunknatachai
took you long enough 🤨😏

@aou_tnbknr
about time you stopped pretending 😌

@santa.pp
proud of you both ❤️

@gemini_nt
WE KNEW IT 😭😭😭

@fourth.ig
he said “slow” and meant it 🥹

@williamjkp
happiness looks good on you both 💚

@est_rvp
yeah… this feels right 🤍

---

Then the fans. Not all of them kind. Not all of them cruel. Most of them stunned.

WAIT????? 😭😭
IS THIS REAL OR AM I DREAMING 🫠
TAKING IT SLOW IM SOBBING ACTUALLY 😭💔
they didn’t even SAY it and yet??? 😭😭
why does this feel so… respectful?? 🥺
i’m shaking but also weirdly calm?? 😵‍💫🫶
THIS IS MATURE LOVE HELP 😭
no but i kinda love this??? like a lot??? 🫠❤️
my heart feels safe??? is this allowed 😭
theyre so soft 🥺

The post spreads. Screenshots multiply. Threads bloom. Think pieces start forming, reaching for language big enough to hold something that refuses to inflate. But there’s nothing to excavate. Nothing hidden. Nothing to expose. Nothing to decode.

The message has already said what it needed to say.

---

Pond doesn’t refresh obsessively. Phuwin doesn’t either.

They’re together on the couch, legs barely touching, phones face-down between them like objects that have finally lost their urgency. The room is quiet, evening light fading into something softer.

“Any regrets?” Pond asks, voice light — but not joking.

Phuwin turns toward him. Really looks. Takes in the familiar line of his mouth, the ease in his posture, the way he’s stopped bracing for impact.

He shakes his head. “No.”

Pond smiles — warm, certain, unafraid of the word.

“Me neither.”

Outside, the internet does what it always does. Inside, nothing needs explaining anymore.

They sit there a while longer, unremarkable and complete, letting the world spin without them for once.

Slow, after all, was never hesitation. It was intention.

And this time, they weren’t waiting for permission.