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Chapter Text

Whatever happened to chivalry? Does it only exist in 80’s movies? I want John Cusack holding a boombox outside my window. I wanna ride off on a lawnmower with Patrick Dempsey. I want Jake from Sixteen Candles waiting outside the church for me. I want Judd Nelson thrusting his fist into the air because he knows he got me. Just once I want my life to be like an 80’s movie, preferably one with a really awesome musical number for no apparent reason. But no, John Hughes did not direct my life.

-Easy A (2010), Dir. Will Gluck

Third doesn’t know when it started. Ten years old, watching the television when his mother watches Titanic for the twentieth time. Twelve years old, sneaking into the movie theater, memorizing the names of the directors and actors and imagining his own name on the screen. Fourteen years old, getting his first camera – sixteen, becoming the president of high school film club – eighteen, launching his YouTube channel – nineteen, entering university for the Comm Arts department –

Sometimes My Heart Will Go On will still get stuck in his head, and sometimes he’ll be humming the OST of A Little Thing Called Love all day. Somewhere down the line, he realizes that he thinks of the young Leonardo DiCaprio and Mario Maurer in a way that isn’t entirely artistic appreciation, and that’s something he’ll face later in the future, but right now, he’s all hard work and striving professionalism and hungry ambition. (Or, at least, that’s what Third tells himself.)

“Sawasdee krab, today is Thursday – Third’s Day! – and I’m going to review the 2005 film Pride and Prejudice. It’s based on an old English novel by Jane Austen, about the romance between a lady and gentleman. They initially don’t like each other at all, with Jane hating Mr. Darcy for his attitude…”

He had decided to perform this review wearing a suit and top hat, which he’d borrowed from the university’s prop department. He wraps up the review with a tip of his hat – “See you next week!” - then gives Two a nod.

“So?” he says. “What do you think?”

Two shrugs. He’s been Third’s cameraman ever since they met during the freshmen orientation. He pretends not to like romance movies, but Third knows that’s a filthy lie, since Two’s favorite movie is The Perks of Being a Wallflower and his ideal girl is Emma Watson.

“Same as always,” Two says, looking down at his camera. “I still think you should shake up your videos. Introduce something fun. Last week, Khai did a parody of martial arts movies.”

Third makes a face. Khunpol is a fellow second year student in the Comm Arts department, and he also has his own YouTube channel. He acts in skits based off films – snappy reaction videos – dumb parodies and reenactments. As far as Third is concerned, it’s just a way for Khai to get more attention and more girls.

“I do serious film reviews and analysis, Two,” Third says. “It’s different.”

“Yes,” Two says patiently. “But Khai gets way more views and subscribers than you. He even has sponsors! We could use sponsors.”

Two has a point. The cost of camera equipment of props can be a bit much, even if they borrow things from their university’s department. Plus, Two’s laptop had broke a month ago, which meant he had been using Third’s, and that severely cut into video editing time.

It would be nice to have a green screen…

Third thinks of Khai’s videos. He’s clicked on one or two out of curiosity, wondering about his competition. When it comes time for the sponsorship section, Khai smiles at the camera with that stupid blandly handsome face, holding up a face lotion and talking about how it makes his skin smooth and clear.

“How are we going to pull off stunts like Khai?” Third says, crossing his arms. “I don’t have any acting skills.” If you could call whatever over-the-top nonsense Khai was doing acting. “Or editing skills. You know that Bone’s the one doing all the effects on Khai’s videos.”

“It’s a good thing you brought up Bone,” Two says. Suddenly, he has a bright sly look in his eyes. “I see him working in the coffeeshop all the time, and I’ve been talking to him. Actually---”

“No,” Third says.

“Don’t pout,” Two says, as they sit down at a table in the coffeeshop. “Why do you keep saying no? You’re here anyway.”

“It’s about my principles,” Third says. “Two, I have a brand, and I have my own style. Also, I’m not pouting.”

Two reaches over and pokes Third’s nose. “You’re pouting.”

Third is about to poke back when Bone sidles up to them, two mugs balanced on a tray. “Here’s your coffee,” he says cheerily. “Khai will be here soon. He was just finishing up with something.”

Probably a date, Third guesses. He’s heard the rumors about Khai chasing after girls in every department. As if he was a popular celebrity instead of a second-rate YouTuber and film student.

As if on cue, Third hears the rev of a motorcycle. He turns, and through the glass windows, he sees a black streak come to a stop by the curb. The rider dismantling - straightening his leather jacket, taking off his helmet, revealing tousled hair. Stepping out into the sunlight, the rays highlighting his face, and shit, it’s like a scene out of a movie – the introduction of the roguish handsome male lead – and Third nearly chokes on his coffee.

“You okay?” Two says, with a raised eyebrow.

“Coffee’s too hot,” Third mutters.

Khai strides into the coffeeshop. “Sawasdee krab – Bone, Two, Third.” He puts his palms together, nods at each one of them, and slides into the empty chair. “What’s up?”

“So,” Two says, immediately all business, “me and Bone have been brainstorming on LINE for the past couple weeks. We think that our two channels should do a collaboration.”

Third frowns. “How long has this been going on?” Isn’t this his YouTube channel? He would have thought that his input would be included.

Two ignores him. “You,” he says, pointing to Khai, “you’re going to continue doing all your gimmicky oppa stuff. You,” he says, pointing to Third, “you’re going to continue your nerdy soppy monologues. But we’re going to put them together.”

“Isn’t this sudden?” Third says. “What would the fans think?”

Khai looks as pleased as Third about the unexpected intervention. “He’s right. My videos have been doing fine the way they are. Look at his subscriber count compared to mine.”

Third, Bone, and Two glare at Khai. Sheepishly, he puts his hand up. “Sorry, sorry.”

From his apron, Bone pulls out a notebook and opens it up to multiple pages of scribbles. “This is the plan.”

ThirdMeans3: What were you even thinking???? I just watched one of Khai’s videos where he reviewed Black Full Moon and all he was doing was yelling at the top of his lungs for ten minutes straight

Tatt’oo: Didn’t you watch that video when it came out and said that it convinced you to watch the movie, even though you’re usually not into horror?

ThirdMeans3: Khai’s costuming and makeup wasn’t that bad.

K.Khunpol: Thanks

ThirdMeans3: Sorry, wrong chat

BoneChone: 555555555

Third doesn’t think that the LINE sticker of a happy cartoon penguin that Khai sends in the group chat is cute. He doesn’t. It’s not.

Their first collaboration goes… okay. It’s a review of the recently released film 7 Days. The movie is about a chef who wakes up in different bodies for seven days, and he tries to get his girlfriend to recognize him.

Third summarizes the plot, while Khai intersperses it with skits acting out the scenes, the male lead clumsily explaining what’s going on to his girlfriend. Khai is funny, Third grudgingly admits to himself, bringing in a goofy energy and a willingness to wear various costumes. To Third’s surprise, post-production, Khai adds some sound effects in Third’s analysis scenes, livening up his long rambling speeches.

The comments pour in.

A collab between my two favorite film Youtubers!!! - P’Khai is so handsome na – I’ve always been hoping that P’Khai would cover romance movies, and it’s a good idea for him to work with P’Third who is very smart and knowledgeable – I guess I should watch more of P’Third’s videos now because he’s cute -

See?  Two messages Third via LINE, smug, accompanied by a screenshot of the rapidly climbing views.

“Our video’s missing something,” Khai says, with a frown. “It’s not a real collab. Third, you should do skits with me.”

“I can’t act—”

“Let’s figure something out.” Khai pulls Third by the arm.

Third sighs, but lets himself be dragged.

They’re in Khai’s condo. Third had stopped by to return a clip-on microphone he had borrowed for the video, and Khai invited him in. Khai takes a seat on his sofa, motioning for Third to sit beside him.

“We should do our own brainstorming, too, and shouldn’t just leave it up to Bone and Two,” Khai says. “We’re the ones in front of the camera, after all.”

He sounds proud as he says this, smoothing his hair with his hand. His white uniform shirt is, as always, barely buttoned at the top, revealing a stretch of pale skin. Urgh, what a peacock.

Third says, “Fine. What are your ideas?”

“Let’s make a list,” Khai suggests. “We know that the strengths on my channel’s end are acting and editing. The strengths on your end are analysis and cinematography. I thought it was cool how you compared 7 Days to the Korean movie The Beauty Inside.”

“I guess so,” Third says, with a half-shrug.

“I don’t know much about romance movies,” Khai says. “To me, they’re mostly the same. Boy meets girl, they fall in love, sometimes there are misunderstandings or obstacles, and maybe they’ll get together or maybe they won’t. Or maybe someone dies at the end.”

“But the set-ups can be fun,” Third says. “Maybe the male and female leads don’t know each other at first and talk through writing like You’ve Got Mail or The Teacher’s Diary. Or maybe they’re childhood friends like in My Girl or Love, Rosie.” He pauses. “I think you should get a crash course on romance movies. A movie marathon.”

To Third’s surprise, Khai doesn’t argue. In fact, he smiles. “Okay, okay. Teach me then, Professor Third. It’s not a bad idea, anyway. A lot of girls like watching romance movies and want me to watch with them on dates. I can impress them with famous quotes.”

Of course.

But it’s a formidable challenge. It’s Third’s opportunity to flex his film knowledge and rewatch some of his old favorites. “I’ll come up with a lesson plan or two,” Third says. “What do you want to start with first? Romcoms? Historical romances? High school romances--?

The next day starts with Third implementing his plan. He’s stocked up on microwave popcorn, his favorite seaweed snacks, and lemon tea, bringing a box filled with DVDs that he either owns or borrowed from Bone’s coffeeshop.

“Sawasdee krab, Professor Third!” Khai says, bowing with an exaggerated wai. “You’re here. Don’t tell me you’re giving me homework, too.”  

Third rolls his eyes, but at least Khai springs into action and takes the box as Third removes his shoes. Third notices that Khai tidied up a bit since the last time Third was here, pillows neatly arranged on the sofa and the dining table free of school assignments and empty bowls.

So, they get started. Third had chosen to start the marathon with The Phantom of the Opera, in the hope that the sort-of-horror vibes would be enough to draw Khai’s interest. Then from there, Hello Stranger, the story of a woman who gets lost on a tour in Korea and runs into a fellow Thai and sticks by his side; then from there, Flipped, his favorite—

As they watch, these are the things that Third learns.

One, Khai can be an attentive student. He perks up as Third tells him that Joel Schumacher directed some of the older Batman movies, and Banjong Pisanthanakun directed the horror classics Shutter, Alone, and Pee Mak (“Ah, I watched that when it came out – I was laughing so hard my throat hurt the next day,” Khai says, approvingly, of the latter). The only time he tells Third to pause the movie, it’s when the clock strikes noon, which is, according to Khai, his official lunch time.

Two, Khai has a nice laugh. During Flipped, he laughs like he didn’t expect to laugh, like it jumps out of him, warm and sudden and genuine. He’s sprawled on his sofa, loose-limbed and comfortable as he leans forward and shakes with that full-bodied, full-hearted, full-voiced laugh.

Third – Third – Third feels something like a flutter in his chest. The thing is, he’s dreamed of boys like Khai, these too handsome princes right out of films. Carelessly handsome, startingly bright, and when you’re beside them, you feel like you’re the center of their world.

But he won’t think of this – he won’t – because, after all, this is a business partnership with a classmate. He’s heard the stories of Khai breaking one girl’s heart after another; he is someone who can’t be faithful, or loyal, or true, and so, Third thinks, he is not like the movies. He’s just Khai.

Tatt’oo: You and Khai mentioned that there’s the feeling of something missing in your collab.

Tatt’oo: So me and Bone had another brainstorming session.

Tatt’oo: And we discovered what’s missing

ThirdMeans3: And??

Tatt’oo: Wait for it

Tatt’oo: BROMANCE

Tatt’oo: It’s popular with the girls these days. Look, there are several comments on the video where fans say they want to see you two together on screen, not in separate sections. (see attached screenshots)

Tatt’oo: So all you have to do is be friendly together. I even talked to some of my ex-girlfriends and they say they like all those bromance dramas and all those kpop oppas and their fanservice

ThirdMeans3: What

“What,” Third says, turning on a video call with Two.

“Girls like sensitive guys,” Two explains, patiently. He doesn’t even hesitate answering, even though it looks like he’s at the bar, probably picking up girls yet again. “It’s a lesson I’ve learned from all my romantic conquests. Yes, I tell girls they’re pretty and I want to take pictures of them, but I also talk about how I’m an artist and I can capture perfect moments with my camera. Get it na?”

“I do not get it,” Third says.

Two rubs his forehead. “Third. You’ve got to show your fans you’re more than a cute reviewer guy! They know you’re excited about movies! But they want to see you excited with someone else – not a girl, because then that means you’re taken and they’ll be sad they can’t date you – but a male buddy.”

“I don’t date anyone, especially not my fans,” Third says.

“I know, but let them think that, anyway,” Two says. “The illusion of availability. That’s why they subscribe, like, and comment.”

“How come Khai’s able to get away with being a playboy, then?”

“That’s part of his charm. He’s the type who can to pull it off.”

Third sighs. “But I don’t even like Khai. He’s an arrogant show-off. I’m supposed to pretend to be his best friend on camera?”

“Exactly,” Two says. “Bone’s compiled a list of bromance movies if you want to do research. Ask him and he’ll send it to you. Anyways, got to go, I think I see the finance faculty star, and she looks gorgeous—”

Two’s camera cuts off.

Third resists the urge to throw his phone across the room. Instead, he throws himself on his bed and yells Khai’s name into his pillow.

Chapter Text

Being with Peter was so easy that sometimes I let myself pretend that it wasn’t fake.

-To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before (2018), Dir. Susan Johnson

They hunt for props before the next video filming, armed with Khai’s sponsor money. Khai is very demanding at every store they frequent – “I want this, and that, and this” – while Third examines each item carefully before agreeing or objecting.

Third tells himself that this is a dress rehearsal for the things that will come. He smiles as Khai drapes a red curtain across his back and launches himself forward, pretending to be Superman. He pulls Khai over to a nearby restaurant two minutes before noon hits and snorts as Khai shovels rice in his mouth.

If only Two was here with his camera.

With lunch and shopping finished, they convene in Bone’s coffeeshop, poring over the video script. Third had written the draft last night, bleary-eyed and frowning as he typed out the dialogue and actions.

It’s a review of Love, Rosie, one of Third’s favorite romance movies. He’s never had the chance to review it before. It’s dramatic, and he initially thought that Khai would protest, so he had a whole list of backup films planned.

Khai had just sent, “Sure,” in LINE, while Two sends a thumbs-up emoji and Bone comments that his customers, especially female customers, love that movie.

“This is pretty good,” Khai says, glancing over the document on Third’s laptop. “Although for the – bromance stuff, for instance, you’re having me tell a joke here, and then you laugh. Isn’t that kind of forced?”

“What are your ideas, then?” Third says, with unconcealed annoyance.

“I’ll show you when we’re filming,” Khai says, crossing his arms, putting on his Serious™ Actor™ demeanor and Third rolls his eyes.

Then, when it comes to the day of filming – well. It’s like something clicks.

THIRD: Sawasdee krab, happy Third’s Day! Today I’m going to do another #ThrowbackThursday movie review and it’s of the 2014 film Love, Rosie. Like my last review, I’m not going to do this alone, but with my good friend Khai.

KHAI: Sawasdee krab. I’ve never watched this movie before, so it was fun to watch it with Third. It’s a story of two friends who like each other, but they keep missing the right moment to confess. As you all know, I’m not the biggest fan of romances, but Love, Rosie had some funny parts that made me laugh out loud, and I liked the happy ending the two leads got at the end. And Third, here, he was even crying at the sad parts [nudges Third with his shoulder], and I had to hand him a tissue.

At this, Third startles. That isn’t in the script at all, but it had happened.

It was when Alex had left for America to become a doctor. Meanwhile, Rosie stayed in England instead of going off to college with him. Rosie had found out she was pregnant after a one-night stand gone wrong. She decided to raise the baby, and she didn’t tell Alex – she didn’t want to hold back her best friend’s career – and their lives took separate paths from there. Third had felt tears roll down his face, while Khai had gotten up, returned, and dropped a tissue on Third’s lap.

“Crybaby,” Khai had said, softly, while Third scowled, grabbed it, and wiped his face. There wasn’t a hard edge to Khai’s voice, only a huff of his breath of the word, like they were friends who watched movies all the time and it was an exasperated matter-of-fact observation.

“Shut up,” Third retorted, still sniffling. Khai looked at him with a wry expression, the corners of his mouth slightly upturned, and returned his attention to the movie.

The rest of the video review continues in this fashion. Khai throws in an unscripted joke or teasing remark while clapping Third on the back or lightly kicking Third’s foot with his. Third takes it in a stride and prods back.

Even the skits are an unexpected joy to film. They had bought a toy doll as a stand-in for Rosie’s daughter Katie. Third reenacts the scene when Rosie hides from Alex’s ex-girlfriend, backing away and ducking behind her stroller, and he ends up tripping for real, upending the wagon he’s using as the stroller and frantically fumbling to catch the doll.

Watching on the sidelines, Khai catches the doll instead, like a goalie perfectly poised to block a football. “Hey!” he says, and Two’s camera captures it all, the both of them shaking with laughter and lobbing the doll back and forth between each other.

The view count for Third and Khai’s Love, Rosie review skyrockets and it’s higher than any video Third’s ever made before. Two sends graphics that their fans made, captioned KhaiThird and surrounded by hearts. Third’s fans mob him in between classes for selfies and ask him where Khai is.

“I’m not attached to him,” Third complains, afterward. “Why am I supposed to know where he is? He’s probably off with a girl or getting into motorcycle accidents or something.”

“The bromance strategy paid off,” Two points out, distractedly. On his phone, he’s looking at pictures of a girl. For all his playboy ways, Third has caught Two Facebook and Instagram stalking the same girl before, an old high school crush, and Two had told him once, while drunk, about Lynn.

“Yeah, fine,” Third says. “But we’re not actually best friends. We haven’t even talked about the next video yet. He might not be too happy if we do another romance again, so maybe we should do something that’s more in his wheelhouse, like action or thriller, perhaps with a romance subplot.”

Two finally looks up from his phone. “Why don’t you talk to him about it?”

“We’re not actually friends,” Third repeats.

“I don’t have time for this,” Two says. He shoves his phone in his pocket. “I’m helping Lynn with a photoshoot. Stop being a dumbass and LINE Khai.”

Two takes off. Third exhales and takes out his phone.

ThirdMeans3: Hey Khai, do you want to meet up and come up with ideas for the next video?

K.Khunpol: Sorry, I’ve got plans this evening. Maybe tomorrow?

ThirdMeans3: Okay

Which leaves the rest of the day to Third. With his classes for the day finished, he normally hangs out with Two, or studies or does homework, or watches a movie, but option one’s not possible with Two gone after Lynn, option two’s not possible since he was able to catch up with all his assignments yesterday, and he’s not in the mood for option 3. All he can think of is Khai beside him while they watched movies together.

So, Third walks aimlessly around campus. He buys noodles from a food stand and eats it while reading comments on the Love, Rosie review. He sits in the university library and flips through some books until the sun sets outside.

As he makes his way to the parking lot, ready to drive home to his apartment, he sees an older student – Un – standing outside underneath a light post near one of the Comm Arts buildings. He’s got his bag slung over his shoulder, hands shrugged in his pockets, and Third’s surprised to see the popular upperclassman by himself.

Third walks over. He had met Un during the freshman welcoming orientation, and they had gotten caught up in a long discussion over films.

Sometimes they still talk whenever they run into each other on campus or work together during Comm Arts projects between grades. Third likes him. Un’s friendly and thoughtful, and always has smart advice to offer about the art of filmmaking.

“Hey, P’Un,” Third says.

“Hey, Nong Third,” Un says. He smiles at Third’s greeting, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes, and there’s a tightness in his expression. Maybe he’s stressed because of his studies, Third wonders, or maybe it’s just his imagination.

“What are you doing out here?” Third asks.

“I needed a breath of fresh air,” Un says, tilting his head toward the Comm Arts building. “I had a project and wanted to step outside. And by the way, good job with your recent film review. The cinematography was good – I liked the shots you used of the Prince Hotel as b-roll footage for Rosie’s hotel.”

“The cinematography was all Two,” Third says. “I can’t take credit for that."

“Right, of course,” Un says, quietly. He stares off into the darkness again, shoes shuffling on the ground. After a while, he speaks up and says, “It’s nice that you have yourself a film crew now – your own little gang, with everyone having their own specialty.”

Third shrugs. “I guess so. “

Yet that thing with Khai isn’t real, he thinks again.

“Nong gangster,” Un calls him, gently teasing.

“I’m not the bad boy on a motorcycle,” Third says, hackles immediately raised. “That’s Khai.”

“Sure,” Un says. “But you managed to make it work. Hey, Nong Third?”

“Yeah?”

“Can you keep a secret?”

Startled, Third nods.

“I have a phobia of the dark,” Un says. “Ever since I was a kid. I was by myself in my house and there was a power outage. It’s stupid, but it scared me, especially because there was a storm outside. Thunder and lightning and everything. I’m not afraid of storms, but the thing about darkness still stays with me, and now, well,” he says, with a self-deprecating smile, “my phone’s dead. I was distracted by something and forgot to charge it, and usually I use it as a flashlight.”

Strange, Third thinks. Strange that an upperclassman like Un would be scared of the dark. But he thinks he gets it. Like movies of monsters, and sometimes Third would wake up in the middle of the night, sweating and gasping, and check the closet. Like movies of schoolgirl main characters who pine desperately after their crushes, and they try little love spells and folk remedies from books – and Third remembers – high school – tracing the name of a boy from film club in the stars, feeling silly and hopeful at the same time. So many of his expectations and dreams have been shaped from films, but that’s what it means to be an aspiring filmmaker, and sometimes there are weird things that stay with you ever since you were young and impressionable and irrational.

He tells Un the gist of this as they walk together toward the parking lot, Third shining his phone camera light to illuminate their path ahead.

K.Khunpol: I thought we were pretending to be best friends

K.Khunpol: I’m getting all these random messages on FB and LINE about you cheating on me with P’Un

ThirdMeans3: Just ignore it

K.Khunpol: Why were you hanging out with that guy anyway? He’s a smug jerk and thinks way too highly of himself.

ThirdMeans3: I’ve been friends with him ever since the welcoming ceremony. Anyways, what does it matter, we’re playing up the bromance for YouTube and we’re not really best friends

The message is marked as read, though Khai doesn’t reply for the rest of the day. Third has a weird feeling in his stomach. He ignores it.

The next movie marathon research session, Third puts on Inception first, which they’ve both watched before. He falls asleep halfway through, and he’s jolted awake by Khai nudging him and asking if he thinks if the world is a dream or reality at the end.

It gets easier. It gets easier and easier and easier. They watch The Predator in theaters together, and Two gets footage of them hanging out at the mall before and after the film. Khai thinks it’s horrible compared to the previous Predator movies, while Third dislikes most horror on principle and has to stifle the urge to cover his eyes throughout the film. They have late night brainstorming sessions in Bone’s coffeeshop – they each make a poster of their favorite movies of 2018 and ask their viewers to vote who they most agree with  – they comb through secondhand shops for props and costumes, and Khai gives Third advice about creative ways to use and alter discarded objects –

There are graphics of them on Facebook and Instagram, albums and accounts made by their fans. Third and Khai sharing a bag of popcorn. Third and Khai laughing together. Khai dressed in all black and tackling Third when they reviewed Venom. Third dressed in all green, jagged black marker lines across his back, tackling Khai when they reviewed the alligator horror film The Pool.

Or: Khai and Third in the theater before the start of a movie, surrounded by a fawning group of fans. Easy as anything, Khai wraps his arm around Third's waist and beams, prompting an eruption of squeals and phone camera flashes.

("What are you doing?" Third hisses.

"Fanservice," Khai says. "Lean against me, too. You're welcome.")

Two catches Third flipping through the pictures and says, “Hey. Do you—”

“Don’t finish that question,” Third says.

“Third—”

“Khai’s invited me to watch him record a music student,” Third says. “We’ll use it as background sound for a review.”

He turns and leaves, and he finds Khai in one of the music rooms with a baby grand piano. Khai is setting up a microphone while the music student shuffles sheet music.

“Sawasdee ka, P’Third,” she says, as he enters, and Third returns her wai. “I’m Fah, a first year, and I’m a big fan of your YouTube channels. I thought it would be an amazing opportunity to play music for a video review.”

Third nods, smiles. Fah does a few warmup scales on the piano, clearly a seasoned player, while Khai carefully adjusts the microphone position and checks the audio quality.

Eventually, Fah begins. It’s a cover of a theme song – soft, ethereal – first love and first kisses, and Third thinks back to the film. Khai had thought it was long and boring and weird, not his kind of thing at all, and he had fallen asleep on Third’s shoulder. “Stupid,” Third thought at the time. “Avengers: Infinity War is longer than this.”

But it was definitely Third’s kind of movie, a slow sorrowful summer that ends in heartbreak. When Khai had woken up, he had murmured, “You’re crying again.”

And Khai says it now, quietly, as the song finishes, the piano fading away, “You’re crying again,” because he is. It’s the same tone of voice as before, gentle, fond exasperation, and all Third can think is how messed up this whole arrangement is, because it doesn’t mean anything. Khai lifts up his hand as if he’s about to touch Third’s face, but it’s only Third’s imagination, since he reaches for the microphone instead.

“Allergies,” Third says, brushing his eyes with the back of his hand. “Thank you, Nong Fah. It’s a – it’s a good film, isn’t it? Did you know that the director of photography is Thai, even though the film’s main director is Italian? The DP shot the entire film with one lens. He also worked on another film that won the Palme d’Or at Cannes a while back, which was the first Thai film to win that award.”

He knows he’s babbling, changing the subject, but he doesn’t know what else to say.

Khai blinks. “I didn’t know that. You’re like a film encyclopedia, Third.”

Third shrugs. Khai returns his attention to packing up his microphone equipment; as he does so, he compliments Fah for her playing, making her blush – this is how it’s supposed to be, Third thinks, a dull ache in his chest, Khai flirting with a pretty girl – and this is the moment when Third realizes: Enough. I’ve had enough.

The thing is: Third has always believed in love, at least the stories of it, anyway. These past few months have brought him so close to it, giving him moments of happiness so bright that it spills out of him like rays of the sun.

But there has always been a little voice in the back of his head saying: This isn’t real. This is too good to last. You must move onward and forward.

The first time Third fell in love with a boy, he was sixteen, and the boy had kissed him back, pushed him away, and never said a word to Third ever again.

So, for Third, there has never been a boy who will look into his eyes while singing him a song – never a gentleman who would wait outside for him in the rain – never someone who would run across airports or train stations or fields for him.

So, he gets out his phone, messages Two to tell Bone and Khai that their collaboration is over, and he curls up underneath his blankets with the piano song echoing in his head.

Chapter Text

Without you in my life, there wouldn’t be such a song.

-Love of Siam (2007), Dir. Chookiat Sakveerakul

“Nong gangster,” Un says, “would you like to help me with a short film project?”

Third says, “There’s just me and Two. That’s not really a gang.”

Un’s eyes flicker over to Two, then return to Third. “I heard. I’m sorry that your collab didn’t work out. But now that you’re both free, I think you’d be a good fit. I want to enter a student film festival competition.”

Third thinks it over. Right now, he and Two are sitting at a table outside on campus, homework in front of them. Ever since he had Two message Bone and Khai the news, he hasn’t talked to either of them in a week; Khai hasn’t even been attending class, but that isn’t unusual at all. He had a reputation of skiving, whether to visit his family or to take off with a girl.

Two scowls. “Why should we help you?”

Un folds his arms, inclines his chin toward them. “Because you’d be able to get good experience early on in your careers, especially if we win or get an honorable mention.”

“Why not other upperclassmen?” Two asks.

“As a fellow artist, I trust your filmmaking skills,” Un says. “Of course, other classmates will be helping with production, but I’d like Third to join the screenwriting team, and you to work with filming and art direction.”

“We’ll do it,” Third says. Ever since he put his YouTube channel on hiatus, he’s been restless, and truth be told, it’s getting to him, the murmurs on campus every time he walks by fans. If they ask him why he stopped making reviews, he tells them that he’s focusing on his studies.

At least now, he’ll be doing something.

“Hey! Don’t volunteer me without asking!”

“Sorry, Two,” Third says. “But you don’t have anything else to do, do you?”

“Lynn will be one of the actors,” Un says.

Quickly, Two says, “I’ll do it.”

“Good,” Un says. He’s looking at Two with a level gaze, expressionless, and Third blinks. He didn’t know that Un knew about Two’s crush.

But, whatever the case, it’s a solid opportunity. Third imagines seeing his name credited on the short film, judges and audiences clapping, impressed, and – it’s a good first step. It’s bigger than any of his school assignments or YouTube reviews, yet even as he thinks this, he feels an odd sharpness in his chest, Khai, but who cares? He can be an amazing filmmaker without him.

Third meets the screenwriting team in the university library, notepad in hand. It’s filled with film ideas he’s had since high school – scribbled plot summaries, idle thoughts – and he goes over them in his head.

Un waves him over, sitting next to two upperclassmen who Third recognizes as Shane and Yee.

“The competition has a theme,” Shane tells him, after they welcome him. He taps his finger on the table. “Love.”

“Isn’t that such a cliché?” Third says, before he can stop himself. “It isn’t – a specific genre or scenario?”

“I thought you were a romance film fan,” Shane says.

Even with the YouTube fallout, Third doesn’t hate romance movies, because it will always be a lifelong passion of his. But love isn’t the idealized perfection or glossy tragedy in the movies. It’s a biting, sour thing, watching him from the corner of your eyes and dreaming.

“Love in any form,” Un corrects, sliding a flyer in Third’s direction.

Third reads the description over. “So it could be about love between family or friends.”

“But who wants to watch that?’ Shane says. “We’re university students. The prime of our love lives. It should be a story that will move the judges’ hearts. Besides, Un promised Lynn a part, and she would be the perfect romantic female lead. Pretty and poised.”

“Aren’t you dating Maprang?” Yee asks.

“I am, I am,” Shane says, “She’s a masterclass set designer, and acting and modelling isn’t her skillset. But Lynn’s comfortable in the spotlight.”

So. Love.

Third thinks out loud. “Maybe it should be something like missed connections. The boy lead sees Lynn’s character on a train or in the street and can’t forget her.”

“That’s a promising start,” Un says. “And maybe he keeps missing her, even though he keeps catching glimpses of her.”

“Maybe he recognizes her because she’s wearing distinctive clothes,” Yee says, pushing up the bridge of her glasses in thought. “Like a beautiful dress.”

“An umbrella,” Third suggests. “A handcrafted umbrella or a parasol with a memorable pattern.”

“Let’s get writing,” Shane says, with a determined grin.

And they do. Third pitches ideas that don’t lead to the happiest endings, while Shane and Yee push back and Un is a calm mediator. By the end of the day, they finish a rough outline of the story and Third is tired and satisfied.

When Third gets home, he takes out his phone and opens LINE.

He wants to message… someone. He stares at his contacts.

ThirdMeans3: Hey Bone

BoneChone: Hi Third

ThirdMeans3: Is Khai doing OK? He hasn’t been to class lately

ThirdMeans3: I have sound equipment I need to give back to him

BoneChone: I don’t know. He’s taken off without saying anything to me. I haven’t seen him in a week.

BoneChone: Why don’t you stop by my coffeeshop tomorrow? You can drop off the equipment and I can give it to him when he shows up.

ThirdMeans3: Sure. See you.

Bone slides Third an iced cup of coffee and sits beside him. “So, what’s up, Third? It was kind of unexpected, you ending the collab like that.”

Third hesitates. “I wanted to focus on exams. Besides, I’ve started a short film project with P’Un. Two’s helping, too.”

He tells Bone about the competition, while Bone listens attentively.

“Sounds fun,” Bone says. “If you need any editing expertise, don’t be afraid to ask.”

“Of course,” Third says.

“To be honest,” Bone says, “I was wondering if you had feelings for Khai.” He says it nonchalantly, leaning back in his chair, but there’s a focus in his gaze.

Third nearly spits out his coffee. “W-what?”

“I just had a hunch.”

“That’s not true,” Third says, stiffly. “We played up the bromance for the cameras, you know that. The friendship part isn’t even real. Besides, look at all our fangirls.”

“I’ve never seen you date a girl or even look at a girl in that way,” Bone says, with a snort.

“What do you know? We barely know each other,” Third shoots back.

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

“If it was true – and it isn’t – it’s none of your business.”

“Of course it is, if it’s my friend you’re chasing.”

“I’m not chasing anyone!” Third says, almost knocking over his coffee cup. He doesn’t know why Bone’s pushing him about this. He’s made a promise to himself not to involve himself with Khai any longer.

“All right, fine,” Bone says. He reaches over and moves the cup a couple centimeters over. “But, you know, Third, he does think of you as a friend. Before, he’s come in and asked to borrow romance movies, you know, to keep up with you.”

“He did?”

Third tries to picture it. Khai coming into the coffeeshop on his motorcycle, loading DVD cases in his bag.

“He did,” Bone confirms. “He said that – even if he doesn’t completely understand your taste, he respects it. Khai doesn’t take a lot of things seriously, Third. He can be a real jerk and too busy messing around with girls. His standalone YouTube videos were kind of immature and amateurish, but you brought a different perspective. You remind him why he went into filmmaking in the first place.”

Third says, “That doesn’t sound like Khai at all.”

“Don’t underestimate him,” Bone says, giving Third a light pat on the shoulder.

Third frowns. He puts the bag of sound equipment on the table and stands to leave. “Just give this to him when he comes back. I have to work on the film.”

The rumor mill seems to think that he’s dating Un.

Which is ridiculous. Un isn’t Third’s type at all, with a steady and unflappable personality that puts him in the cool, wise older friend box, not love interest. They spend evenings hunched over the in-progress script and hunt for potential actors and extras; they consult guides on screenwriting and watch films that won the award last year.

Despite his cool nature, Un has an intensity about him. He pores over Two’s concept photos, and Third catches them having lunch together, Two snapping back about Un’s critiques, but listening.

“Missed connections,” Un says, after they finish overseeing a table-read. He’s wandered outside, script in hand, and Third had found himself following. “Nong Third, how’d you come up with the idea anyway?”

“Isn’t it a common theme in movies?” Third says. “Love – or attraction, or the idea of love, anyway – at first sight. And it keeps building every time you see them. Every time you get to know them, little by little.”

“A theme in real life, too,” Un says.

Wistful.

Third’s eyes widen. “P’, who--?”

He’s interrupted by Shane walking by.  

Shane says, “Sounds like a meaningful conversation. Hmm, you two, have you heard how I met Maprang?”

“Eh?” Third asks.

“Freshman year here, I had a girlfriend. I’d known her since primary school. She’s got a funny not-serious personality like me, and we knew each other from head to toe. But eventually, she decided to study abroad – she has family in Britain and wanted to do something new and different.

“We decided to break up. Last kiss at the airport and everything. But I also saw Maprang at the airport, since she worked there in the café. She was friend of friends, though I hadn’t really met her before, and she heard what happened and said she was sorry.”

“P’Shane, is this your whole life story?” Third says.

“Shush,” Shane says. “We worked together on that year’s play. She designed amazing sets. The castle. The flower-filled gardens. The stunt rigs. All of it planned by her. She approached everything with her mature attitude like it was a Hollywood movie, and I was impressed.

“I wasn’t ready to date again, though. Not yet. Turns out, she wasn’t, either, and she had it worse. She lost her high school boyfriend in a car accident.

“But we waited, the both of us. We went to coffee shops together and worked on plays. I made it my mission to make her smile and laugh. Then one day, we agreed we were both dating.”

“I see,” Third says. He’s not sure about the relevance of this, but maybe Shane is talking about his experiences with love and how it relates to their film.

“So, my point is,” Shane says. “My point is, Un, Nong Third, that sometimes there are people worth waiting for and longing for. There are times when you must do your best to move on and heal, too, because wallowing in pain would be too much. I loved Lek -- of course, there are others who make long distance relationships work! -- but staying together wasn’t for us.

“Think of action movies. If your main character is held at gun point by the bad guy, how does he escape? He uses his brain. He plans how he can wrestle the gun away from the bad guy. He knows where to run away to escape being shot. Meanwhile, all his heart does is speed up in his chest. It doesn’t make his fists or legs move. His brain lets him live when he’s confronted by pain, while his heart only makes him know pain.

“So, know your limits. Use your rational brain in matters of love, not just your irrational heart.” Shane nods sagely, clearly proud of his pronouncement, and saunters off.

Third and Un trade glances.

“If that was supposed to be a love lesson for me, he pays way too much attention to the fan rumor mill,” Third says. “None of it’s true. But I guess I know why someone like Maprang would date him.”

“I always wondered why they started dating, too,” Un says, wryly. “But sometimes, life surprises you.”

Third wonders: Will I ever get to the stage in my life where I’m like Shane and Maprang? Where I know the twists and turns, ups and downs of love outside the movies?

Khai walks back into Third’s life like he entered it. Carefree and casual, arriving at the university astride Chawee, handsome as always.

It’s awkward, at first.

They don’t return to the easy dynamic of the ‘bromance.’ There are no easy shoulder pats or affectionate nudges or in-jokes chockful of film references.

Instead, they make small talk related to classes or the short film. Khai volunteers to do sound production, and Third sees him working hard. Mike at the ready, editing on his laptop afterwards, and he doesn’t even flirt with the actresses.

Third overhears him enthusiastically talking to Bone.

“When it comes to good sound design, a lot of people think of action films like Star Wars and Jurassic Park and The Matrix. They’re classics and have cool sound effects, but there are other movies, too. Drama films can create strong feelings with sound.

“For this short film, we’re using a lot of good natural sound. Rain when the two characters see each other for the first time. Street conversations. Cars passing by. Footsteps on the street. The wind.

“Thai film and TV use sound effects for comedy and emphasis, and we’ve decided to use it very little for this, but I kind of like how they make scenes sharp and funny. Even in Western movies, have you seen Scott Pilgrim vs. the World--?”

Khai and Bone banter whether Scott should’ve ended up with Ramona or Knives, and Third is startled.

Don’t underestimate him, Bone had said.

Third vividly remembers sitting side by side, on Khai’s sofa, in the theaters, while Khai makes quiet, musing comments about sound design. Songs in the background. Sound transitions as the scene changes. Pockets of silence in between.

Third thinks with his brain and his heart. That night, he messages Khai on LINE and asks him whether he wants to go out to lunch together tomorrow.

So, they do. At noon exactly.

“Two told me about this place,” Third says. “P’Un took him here before and he really liked it. It’s very good.”

“It is,” Khai says, gesturing toward his plate. “You want to try mine?”

He holds out a piece of chicken with his fork. Third nods, leans over, bites it off.

The expression on Khai’s face is open, eager, and sweet. “See?”

“Yeah,” Third says.

They eat in silence for a couple minutes.

Then Third says, “Where did you go? When you skipped classes for a week?”

“I saw an older friend of mine. P’Ton. Just for advice and to have some drinks at his bar. Hey, Third, why did you end our collab?”

“Because it was getting too much,” Third says, honestly. “The – the ‘bromance.’ Didn’t feel right to act. But I think it feels right right now. Co-workers. Working on the film and making something big.”

“But I think,” Khai says, his throat bobbing, “I think there were times when it was right.”

“We’re not acting anymore,” Third accedes. “We can be a gang, like Un was saying. The four of us. The Savage Gang.” He kicks Khai’s foot with his own.

Khai kicks back. “The Savage Gang.”

Once, Third watches as Two looks at Lynn standing in a fake storm, powered by Maprang's rain rig. She’s got the flower-patterned umbrella shielding her from water, but for a second, she lets it shift, lets the water on her face, and she smiles.

Two has his camera out, but his brows are furrowed.

“Two,” Un says. His fingers tremble.

Third makes himself look away. It doesn’t seem like something he should be watching.

“Are you dating P’Un?” Khai asks, one day, holding out his phone and pointing to a Facebook post where fangirls enthuse over a picture of Third and Un crouched over a laptop and discussing film edits.

“Don’t be stupid,” Third says.

“Just wondering,” Khai says, with a sideways glance.

“Don’t you notice who he’s watching?”

Khai shrugs. “No – not really.”

“Pay attention,” Third says. He flicks his finger at Khai, hitting him squarely on the forehead. “I think he’s had his eyes on someone for a while. I talked about missed connections and love at first sight for our film, and he made a comment. It seems like even P’Un can feel like that, even though he’d never tell that person directly unless it was forced out of him.”

“Missed connections,” Khai repeats. He pauses. “Do you remember the freshmen welcoming ceremony?”

“Yeah,” Third says. “I was talking to P’Un through most of it, though.”

“You missed the first Comm Arts teambuilding game. The one where you get labeled a character, but you don’t know who it is, and you have to look for your match. I got Jeab from My Girl. We were one person short, though. I couldn’t find a Noi-Naa, and I think that was supposed to be you.”

Third feels his breath get caught in his throat. What is Khai even talking about? It was just one game he missed. He had arrived in time for the others, and that was when he met Two.

“Sad, isn’t it?” Khai says. “You were supposed to be my Noi-Naa.”

“Don’t talk like that,” Third says.

“Why not?” Khai’s tone, challenging and bratty.

“We don’t exist for fanservice anymore.”

“You can still be my Noi-Naa.”

“Idiot.”

The short film, titled Umbrella, is beautiful.

Perhaps it’s narcissistic for Third to think so, but he thinks the finished product is perfect. First love in a storm, in the streets, followed by sightings across a university campus and a coffeeshop. Lynn’s umbrella is a streak of color in Bangkok’s greyness, whirling with painted flower petals and rain droplets, and Third can see why Two is lovestruck.

But maybe things are changing. In Facebook albums full of photos taken by Two, Third sees more and more pictures of Un mixed in, actively directing and working in motion. Lynn hugs her boyfriend when he visits her on set, and Two rarely glances their way anymore.

Khai and Third watch movies together and go to the mall. They talk film theory. They eat lunch and dinner. Khai chooses to watch romance movies without prompting, and he reaches out, wipes Third’s tears with a tissue when he cries.

Maybe things are changing.

“I wonder,” Khai says, after they’ve sent the film to the judges, and they’re sitting on the grass, underneath a tree on campus, “I wonder how May and Pat in Umbrella will eventually confess and start dating.”

“Maybe they don’t even need a proper confession,” Third says.

One day, Shane said, we agreed we were both dating.

“How would you confess?” Khai asks.

“I like dramatic gestures. Cue cards like Love Actually. Singing a love song in front of everyone, like 10 Things I Hate About You or Love of Siam. But I can’t sing. Or running across airports before the other person leaves—”

“Sounds like you thought about this a lot.”

“Mm.”

“How about something easy? What was that movie we watched the other night, with the film star and the bookshop owner?”

“Notting Hill.”

Khai clears his throat. “I’m just a boy standing in front of a boy, asking him to love him.”

“I still want you to run across an airport for me.”

“Does that mean yes?"

And Khai looks nervous. Worried, even. 

“Shut up,” Third says, and he jumps, twines his arms around Khai’s neck and brings their mouths together. They’re lost in a flurry of kisses, and there are a thousand love songs playing in Third’s head. His heart and his mind are humming, singing, celebrating in synchronization. It’s like a movie, but even better.