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Chapter Text

Namtan had always adored her dogs, Boo and Babe. They were her loyal shadows, her comfort after long days and quiet companions during her loneliest nights.

Over time, she noticed something particular yet endearing  they always sniffed her. Whether she had just returned home, changed clothes, or even simply moved from one room to another, Boo and Babe would press their noses against her and inhale like she was their entire world.

At first, she thought it was just a dog thing  part of their instincts. But the more it happened, the more she realized what it truly meant.

Sniffing was their way of saying, I know you. I remember you. I love you.

That simple, wordless action meant everything to her.

It was how they held her scent close, how they made sure she was still theirs. And somewhere along the way, Namtan picked up the habit herself.

It started innocently  a subconscious leaning in when she hugged someone she cared about.

A soft breath drawn in, her way of remembering, of grounding herself. She never gave it much thought… until it happened with Film.

That day on set had been long and chaotic. The kind of shoot where the lights felt too bright, the crew too loud, and her body begged for sleep she couldn't afford.

In the middle of a scene, she leaned in  just slightly more than the script required and her face brushed the edge of Film’s jacket.

She didn’t expect it. The scent.

It hit her like a quiet wave warm, steady, grounding. Clean soap, a hint of something earthy, and something else she couldn’t name but only feel.

A current passed through her, gentle and electric all at once. Her exhaustion melted. The heavy fog in her mind lifted. Suddenly, it didn’t matter that they’d been shooting for hours or that her eyes had been aching from the lights.

All that mattered was her. That scent.

Film.

She didn’t want to pull away. She wanted to snuggle in, bury her face in Film's shoulder, maybe even close her eyes for just a moment. But just as quickly, the spell broke.

“Pack up!” the director called.

Startled, they stepped apart. Film didn’t seem to notice what had happened.

But Namtan oh, she felt it in her bones. That subtle, aching tug toward her. The way her senses had come alive with just one breath.

That night, she couldn’t sleep.

She lay in bed with the covers pulled to her chest, eyes fixed on the ceiling, replaying that moment over and over. She yearned for it again the calm it gave her, the warmth it brought.

Just then, Boo and Babe entered into the room, tails wagging.

They climbed up onto the bed and immediately pressed themselves against her, sniffing her cheeks and neck with loving persistence.

A soft chuckle escaped her lips. “You two always know, don’t you?”

She ran her fingers through their fur as they nestled closer, bringing their familiar comfort with them.

As she closed her eyes, surrounded by her furry troublemakers, she whispered under her breath with a smile:

“You’ve definitely spoiled me.”

But in her mind, it wasn’t her dogs’ scent she craved.

It was her.

Film.

“Film, don’t you think P'Namtan is being a little… over-clingy?” Ciize asked, raising an eyebrow as she sipped her iced coffee.

Film glanced down.

Namtan was practically draped around her, her arms wrapped loosely around her waist, her face buried in Film's hair like a small child clinging to their mother for comfort.

She wasn’t saying anything, just… holding on, breathing quietly against her as if she were a blanket she couldn’t let go of.

“Phi has always been like that,” Film replied casually, the corner of her mouth curling into a soft smile. 

Ciize stared. That was true, to an extent. Namtan had always been affectionate her skinship came naturally, part of her warm and playful personality.

She hugged her friends easily, looped her arms through theirs without hesitation, leaned on shoulders when she laughed too hard.

But this? This was different.

It wasn’t just a hug. It was the kind of closeness that had weight, like Namtan was holding onto something she didn’t want to lose.

And it was always Film.

Lately, she didn’t need a scene with Film or even an excuse. If Film was nearby, Namtan found her way into Film's space sitting closer than necessary, tucking herself under her arm, resting her head on her shoulder like it was the most natural thing in the world. No announcement, no permission asked.

Just Namtan. Just Film.

Ciize was about to comment again when Namtan stirred. Sleepy and slow, she shifted slightly, her nose brushing against the curve of Film’s neck.

She sniffed  like a puppy testing the air  and let out a tiny, satisfied sigh before nuzzling in again, as if she’d found her perfect spot.

Film chuckled under her breath, her hand instinctively rising to gently run through Namtan's hair.

“Are you tired, Phi?” she asked softly, voice low.

Namtan didn’t speak. She just nodded, her cheek pressing further into her shoulder like a worn-out child asking for five more minutes.

Ciize watched in stunned silence. She wasn’t even sure Film realized it the way her voice softened for her, the way Film's fingers stayed tangled in Namtan's hair, or how Film's body natural leaned ever so slightly to accommodate her weight.

It was effortless. Intimate in a way that went beyond playful skinship or on-screen chemistry.

Namtan wasn’t just being clingy.

She was being safe.

 For Namtan, Film had somehow become that safe place warm, solid, and scented just right.

Ciize shook her head slowly, sipping her coffee again with a quiet smile.

“She really has you wrapped around her finger, huh?”

Film didn’t answer. She didn’t need to. The way she looked down at Namtan, like she was something fragile and precious curled into her had said it all.

“Film, do you even realize how down bad P’Namtan is for you?” Love leaned across the table, her voice somewhere between exasperated and amused.

Film blinked, looking at the mountain of pastries stacked in front of her, cream puffs, tarts, slices of cake in every flavor imaginable.

The small break table looked less like a snack corner and more like the front window of a bakery during Easter.

“Did she… buy the entire shop?” Film muttered, stunned.

Love threw up her hands. “Yes! That’s what I’ve been saying!”

Film chuckled. “Love, come on… P’Namtan’s just being generous. You know how she is. She does this for everyone.”

Love raised an eyebrow. “Everyone? Really? Has she ever bought you two dozen pastries on a random Tuesday?”

Film hesitated.

“Well… no. But...”

“No buts,” Love cut her off. “I’m telling you, Film. That woman is head over heels for you. Whether you know it or not.”

Film leaned back in her chair, rubbing the back of her neck awkwardly. “I think you’re overthinking this. P’Namtan’s affectionate with everyone. She hugs everyone, gives little gifts all the time. She’s just… like that.”

Love didn’t let up. “Maybe she is. But you...you are a different story. The way she clings to you even when there’s no scene. The way she looks at you like you’re the last piece of cake she forgot she ordered. I’m just saying observe her for a while. You might realize something.”

Film laughed softly, but the smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. “You’re deluding yourself.”

Love narrowed her eyes, smirking. “Am I? Or are you just scared to admit she might mean more to you than you’ve let yourself believe? Better figure it out… before someone else does.”

That last line lingered.

All day, Film couldn’t shake the conversation.

Was Namtan really treating her differently?

She replayed moments in her head how Namtan always found a way to sit beside her, how Namtan leaned her head on Film's shoulder without thinking, how she always sniffed her hand like it had answers she couldn’t find in words.

Was she really like this with everyone?

Film wasn’t so sure anymore.

That evening, the crew was shooting a heavy emotional scene. Film and Namtan sat on a couch in character May and Ai-oon, two people caught in quiet heartbreak. The scene called for Ai-oon to break down, and May to hold her together.

But something shifted.

As the cameras rolled, Namtan fell into her role too deeply. Her voice cracked, and real tears started spilling down her cheeks. It wasn’t acting anymore. It was raw.

“Cut wait, Namtan, are you okay?” someone called off-camera.

But Film was already holding her.

She pulled her close, wrapping her arms around Namtan small frame, hand gently stroking her back. “Phi, it’s okay. I’ve got you.”

Namtan didn’t speak didn’t even lift her head. She just sniffed quietly against Film's neck, breathing her in like she was desperate for calm, like she could only find it in Film.

And for the first time… Film noticed.

How tightly Namtan clung to her. How her hands trembled a little. How she didn’t want to let go.

She wasn’t just acting. She wasn’t just being “affectionate.”

She needed her.

Still holding her, Film managed a half-choked laugh, trying to lighten the moment. “Phi, if you keep hugging me like this… I’m gonna ask for a dowry. For our marriage.”

Laughter erupted around the set.

The director snorted. The crew members chuckled. Even the assistant camera guy smacked someone’s arm in amusement.

But Film didn’t take her eyes off Namtan. She was watching truly watching for the first time.

Namtan’s face flushed slightly. Embarrassed. Caught. But even then, she didn’t pull away.

She just buried her face deeper into Film’s neck, her hands tightening around her waist.

And in that moment, Film realized something.

What did she mean to Namtan? was she really the one?

Chapter Text

“Boo, will she like these flowers?” Namtan crouched near the florist's display, pointing to a cluster of soft pink roses in a simple woven basket. “What do you think, hmm? Babe, any thoughts?” she asked again, turning to her other dog.

Both Boo and Babe sat obediently beside her, tongues lolling, heads slightly tilted. Loyal as ever, but useless in the flower department. Namtan sighed dramatically, ruffling Boo’s fur.

“You two are no help,” she muttered, lips curling into a half-smile. Her hand moved to her own hair, ruffling through it in frustration. “Come on, guys… help me out here.”

The dogs, ever sensitive to her moods, reacted the best way they knew how Babe jumped up, licking Namtan’s face with affection, while Boo nosed gently against her arm. Caught off-guard, Namtan burst into giggles, nearly tipping over as Babe’s enthusiastic tail wagged against her side.

“Okay! Okay!” she squealed, trying to fend them off. “Too much love! You’re worse than Film when she tickles” She stopped herself, laughing again at the ridiculousness of comparing her crush to her dogs. But the heat on her cheeks told her exactly how much truth was in that thought.

“Enough, you troublemakers.” She gave each of them a quick kiss on the head. “Let me think...”

Before she could finish, Boo took off running, paws sliding slightly across the sidewalk tiles. “Boo!” Namtan called out in alarm, quickly scooping Babe into her arms and dashing after him.

“Don’t run, buddy! You might get hurt!”

But Boo had already stopped, just a few feet away. Namtan stopped to a halt and caught her breath. “Seriously, what’s gotten into you?” she scolded lightly, approaching him with Babe nestled in her arms. “Are you trying to give me a heart attack?”

Boo didn’t answer, of course. Instead, he gently tugged at her jeans with his mouth, nudging her toward a specific spot. When she followed his gaze, her eyes landed on a new display of fresh cut roses, a soft blend of creamy whites, baby pinks, and subtle lavender hues, wrapped in brown craft paper and tied with a pale ribbon.

Namtan blinked. “That’s what you wanted to show me?”

She glanced down at Boo, who was now sniffling around her ankles, and up at Babe who let out a low, happy bark from her arms.

A slow smile spread across Namtan’s face. “So this was your plan, huh?”

Boo wagged his tail as if to say obviously.

Chuckling, Namtan bent down and kissed Boo’s forehead. “You’re smarter than you look, you little genius.”

She turned to the florist and pointed at the bouquet. “I’ll take that one, please.”

The florist nodded with a warm smile, gently handing the bouquet over.

Namtan took the flowers like they were made of glass. She didn’t want anything to wrinkle, or one petal to fall out of place. She wanted them to be perfect.

She opened the car door and carefully helped Boo and Babe into the backseat, brushing off the seat covers and giving each of them their favorite plush toy to snuggle with. “Okay, you two. Behave. No chewing on the bouquet this time.”

Babe barked once, like she was making a promise.

Satisfied, Namtan sat in the driver’s seat and gently placed the bouquet in the passenger seat, adjusting the paper until it looked just right. She sat still for a second, fingers brushing over the flowers.

“I hope you like them… Film,” she whispered softly.

Namtan had just dropped Boo and Babe home, planting soft kisses on their heads as she whispered promises to bring back treats. 

The day ahead was buzzing with excitement. The cast and crew were gathering at the studio for a promotional shoot for Mufasa: The Lion King, and everyone was already in costume or mid-preparation. Namtan hurried through the back entrance, where P’Ying was already waiting, arms crossed and holding a costume bag.

“Here, Namtan. Your outfit’s inside. Quick, we’re almost ready for touch-ups,” P’Ying instructed.

Namtan gave her a small salute and disappeared into the changing area. When she emerged, the first thing she noticed there was a tail swaying behind her.

“A tail?” she muttered, twisting slightly to see it properly. She gave it an experimental wag. It moved. Wag wag. She grinned.

“Boo and Babe would be proud,” she chuckled to herself.

Just then, Kapook approached, dressed in similar feline-themed attire. “Hey twin,” she said with a grin, holding up her tail.

Before Namtan could respond, Ciize walked in, hands on hips, eyebrows raised. “Awww, look at you two the prettiest kitties on set,” she teased, snapping a quick photo.

“Why don’t you join us then?” Kapook grinned, tossing her a spare headband with cat ears.

“I’ll pass,” Ciize said with a mock flip of her hair. “I’m cute enough without all that.”

Earn appeared right on cue, looping an arm through Ciize’s. “Facts. You two are practically influencers already.”

The group laughed, the atmosphere light and playful. But amidst the chatting and teasing, Namtan’s attention had drifted. Her eyes kept glancing toward the crew entrance, scanning, hoping.

She wasn’t subtle about it either.

Ciize, always the sharp one, nudged her gently. “She’s on the phone with her mom,” she whispered.

Namtan blinked, feigning confusion. “Who?”

Ciize raised an eyebrow. “Don’t play dumb.”

“I’m not! Who are you talking about?” Namtan said, not even making eye contact.

Ciize leaned in closer, lips curling into a smirk. “Okay, fine. I’ll just tell Film you’ve been crushing on her since, I don’t know… forever?”

Namtan whipped her head around, whisper yelling, “Hey! Ciize! My dearest friend in the world, why would you do that to me?!”

Ciize shrugged, all innocence. “I thought you didn’t know who I was talking about?”

Before Namtan could reply, the entrance door creaked open and there she was.

Film.

Dressed in a feline, plush paw gloves in both hands, and soft ginger cat ears perched delicately on her head. Her hair was left open, a few strands falling over her forehead, and her eyes, lined just a bit, sparkled under the studio lights.

Namtan stopped breathing.

Ciize leaned in and whispered, “She looks cute, doesn’t she?”

All Namtan could do was nod, lips parted slightly in awe. She didn’t even register that she was still standing frozen until Ciize stomped on her foot.

“Say something!” Ciize hissed.

“Ow!” Namtan yelped softly.

Film turned to them and smiled. “Hi Phi, hey Ciize.”

Ciize gave Namtan a not-so-subtle elbow to the ribs before stepping forward and hugging Film. “You look adorable,” she said easily.

Still flustered, Namtan finally found her voice. “You… you look cute, Film.”

Film’s cheeks tinged pink. “Thanks, Phi… you also look...”

“She looks like a lion,” Ciize interjected with a grin, ruining the moment.

Film giggled. Namtan shot Ciize a look that promised vengeance.

Just then, Kapook and Earn reappeared. “Guys, let’s go! The segment’s about to start!”

The group began to gather their things. Namtan looked down at her costume one more time, then at Film and suddenly, a thought struck her.

“I’ll be right back!” she said quickly.

Kapook paused, confused. “Where’s she going now?”

“Who knows,” Ciize said with a shrug, adjusting her ears.

The others filed out slowly toward the set. But Film lingered for a moment, her eyes drifting to the hallway Namtan had just disappeared down. Her brows furrowed.

Where did Phi go?

She didn’t have to wonder long.

From around the corner, Namtan reappeared breathless, flushed from her small sprint, and holding something tightly in her arms.

A bouquet.

But not just any bouquet full of roses, a soft blend of creamy whites, baby pinks, and subtle lavender hues, wrapped in brown craft paper and tied with a pale ribbon. The scent lingered in the air as she stepped closer, her eyes flicking shyly toward Film.

Ciize spotted her first and nudged Film with a smug grin. “See? I told you she wasn’t just wandering. She never shows up empty handed when it’s about you.”

Film felt the heat rise to her cheeks.

Namtan, pretending to ignore the teasing, walked up and handed the bouquet out with a gentle, “Here, Film.”

Film blinked, taking the bouquet like it was something precious and fragile. The roses were fresh, dewy, their petals unfurling just like the quiet affection blooming between them.

Namtan, meanwhile, tried to duck her face under the shadows of the podium. She looked away, cheeks burning. Why did I do that in front of everyone? she scolded herself. But the sight of Film holding the bouquet with that soft, radiant smile almost made her forget the crowd entirely.

And then Film, ever the unexpected one, turned to the audience with a cheeky grin, raising the bouquet above her head and tossing it lightly like a bride at her wedding.

The group burst out laughing. Even Namtan couldn’t hold her giggles back.

“You’re throwing away my love!” she teased.

Film winked. “Only if you catch it.”

Before anyone could react further, the hosts called them to take their positions. The lights flared up, the music started, and the crowd outside roared a sea of cheering fans, waving banners, lightboards glowing with messages like “P'Namtan!” and “Film, we love you!”

Film glanced at the fans in awe, momentarily overwhelmed. It always stunned her the love, the energy, the support like a wave crashing over her.

Namtan noticed the flicker of wonder in Film’s expression and leaned in, whispering, “Beautiful, isn’t it?”

Film nodded.

“You deserve all of it,” Namtan added softly.

Before Film could answer, the segment was already kicking off. The host introduced a light-hearted challenge game: “The Blindfold Board Scramble.” The rules were simple two people would be blindfolded, crawl around the stage, and collect hidden boards with phrases or questions written on them.

As the host called out Namtan and Film as the first pair, the crowd screamed in delight. Some fans even shouted their ship name.

The blindfolds were handed over. 

Film bit back a smile. “You’re just making me nervous.”

“Oh?” Namtan chuckled. “That’s not the plan. Yet.”

With both of them blindfolded now, the game began. The host yelled, “Go!” and the timer started.

But Namtan had her own agenda.

Instead of moving around freely, she clung to Film from behind, arms looped around her waist like a koala. “I’m helping,” she declared sweetly.

Film burst out laughing, squirming slightly. “Phi! That tickles!”

“I’m just making sure you don’t trip,” Namtan giggled, hugging tighter, her face buried against Film’s shoulder. “Safety first.”

“I can’t even move!”

But the crowd loved it laughter and squeals echoed from the audience as the two stars fumbled across the stage, Namtan refusing to let go. Whenever Film reached for a board, Namtan would guide her hands like a child leading their favorite toy still hugging her tight.

The rest of the cast watched in mock exasperation.

“She’s just using this game as an excuse to hug her!” Ciize declared.

“Classic Namtan,” Kapook said, smiling.

Earn chimed in, “At this point, she might as well end up falling for her.”

Even the host joined in. “Well, if we don’t stop them, I think Namtan will be glued to Film the rest of the night!”

Eventually, the buzzer rang. Time’s up.

Both women removed their blindfolds, blinking in the stage light. Film was flushed from laughter, from exhaustion, and maybe something else. Namtan looked victorious, arms still wrapped around Film as if she had no intention of ever letting go.

Boo and Babe’s photo popped up on Namtan’s phone: her lock screen.

She smiled, whispering under her breath, “Thanks, Boo and Babe. You two taught me a lot.”

The segment had finally wrapped. The lights dimmed, the audience buzz faded, and the cast members slowly dispersed to their assigned rooms.

Film and Ciize were given the same dressing room, tucked quietly away from the chaos.

Ciize placed her soft paw gloves gently on the table and turned toward Film with a raised brow.

“So,” she said, arms crossing with a knowing smile. “What have you thought?”

Film emerged from the changing area, now dressed in a simple t-shirt and jeans, running a hand through her loosened hair. “About what?”

“About P’Namtan, obviously.”

The question hung in the air.

Film froze for a second, her expression unreadable  but the flicker in her eyes betrayed her. The moment she heard Namtan’s name, her posture shifted slightly, like something inside her stirred.

“I don’t know,” Film finally murmured, voice lower now.

Ciize sighed and sat down beside her, not unkindly. “It’s okay, you know. If you don’t feel the same way, it’s fine. But if you do, and you just haven’t realized it yet… that’s worth thinking about.”

Film looked down at her hands. “It’s not that I don’t feel anything. I just… I don’t know what this is yet.”

Before Ciize could respond, a soft knock interrupted them.

“Hey, guys. It’s me,” came Namtan’s voice from outside the door.

Film glanced at Ciize.

“Phi, come in it’s open,” Film called back.

Namtan entered, her gaze briefly meeting both of theirs before darting away. She could sense the atmosphere intimate and hushed. Did I interrupt something? The uncertainty was written all over her face.

Ciize stood quickly, sensing the shift. “Oh Earn was calling me. I’ll catch you two later.” She shot a quick look at Film, then at Namtan, and walked out with a short wave and a suspiciously timed exit.

Namtan hesitated for a beat, then turned to Film. “Um… I just wanted to ask if… maybe I could drop you home?”

Film blinked at her, the awkwardness melting into a soft smile. “Yeah. Sure, Phi.”

Relief bloomed across Namtan’s face. “Okay. I’ll wait in the car.”

Out in the car, Namtan slipped into the driver’s seat and tapped their usual playlist, letting the familiar hum of gentle pop songs filling the silence. She tapped the steering wheel nervously, glancing once toward the door.

When Film finally got in, she buckled her seatbelt, glancing sideways at Namtan with a tired but warm expression. 

Eventually, they pulled up in front of Film’s apartment.

Film opened the car door. “Thanks for the ride, Phi.”

Namtan hesitated, fingers gripping the steering wheel. Her heart beat louder than the music. Should I stay? Should I go?

Her instincts answered for her.

Before Film could step away, Namtan quickly got out of the car.

“Wait.”

Film turned around, surprised. “Phi?”

Namtan didn’t say anything. She just stepped forward and wrapped her arms around Film pulling her into a hug that was warm, secure, and full of the things she couldn’t yet say with words. Her face found its way into Film’s shoulder, just below her hairline, where she always felt most at home.

She tightened her hold just slightly. Film didn’t hesitate.

She hugged back.

The embrace deepened not rushed, not playful, but intimate in the quietest way possible. Film’s hands settled gently against Namtan’s back.

Namtan nestled her face against Film’s neck, taking in her scent with a barely audible sigh. This was her favorite spot where she could breathe and forget the rest of the world.

Film closed her eyes, a tiny smile forming as she murmured, “Phi…”

Namtan held on tighter. “Just a little more, Nong. Please.”

Film didn’t say anything at first. She just held her. Then, in a soft voice, “Okay, Phi. Just a little more. But tomorrow… we both need sleep.”

Namtan let out a small, reluctant laugh as she finally pulled back, just enough to look at her. “Okay. But tomorrow, you’re not going anywhere without me.”

Film giggled, brushing a loose strand of Namtan’s hair behind her ear. “As you say, Phi.”

With one last smile, Film walked towards her apartment entrance. Namtan lingered a moment, watching her disappear behind the door before sliding back into the driver’s seat.

Tomorrow, I’ll tell you. Maybe.

And the playlist rolled on.

Chapter Text

The rehearsal studio was finally quiet, hours of choreography and exhausting run-throughs had settled into a warm silence broken only by the occasional buzz of the phone and the soft hum of the air conditioner. The mirrored walls reflected near the far end where our couple were wrapped in a kind of unspoken comfort only familiarity could shape.

Film sat cross-legged on the smooth floor, her back leaned casually against the wide mirror. Her fingers scrolled aimlessly through her phone, her hair sticking slightly to her forehead from the sweat of rehearsal. Her eyes weren’t really paying attention to what was on-screen. 

Namtan was nestled gently beside her, Film was her pillow in human form. Her soft cheek rested comfortably on Film’s shoulder, her body leaning into the warm space between them. Her arm was draped lazily across Film’s waist, her fingers occasionally brushing over the hem of her shirt like a subconscious habit.

The moment felt so normal… so safe.

Namtan felt like she could stay like this for hours without even moving.

But then her phone buzzed. The screen lit up with a notification — "ticket booking confirmation"

Ugh. Right. She adjusted slightly, pulling back just enough to glance down at the message. Her arm moved to swipe the screen open, scrolling through the details of their flight for the next fan meet.

While she was momentarily distracted, Film shifted.

Suddenly, she now leaned in leaving Namtan absolutely still.

Without a word, Film nuzzled closer, her cheek brushing against Namtan’s neck before her hand rose to gently twist a loose lock of Namtan’s hair between her fingers. She absentmindedly played with the strands, curling and uncurling them, her nose occasionally nudging just slightly against Namtan’s skin.

Namtan just froze.

Her breath was caught up in her throat, shoulders locked up, her fingers tightening around her phone.

Oh no.

A quiet, invisible panic bloomed in her chest like wildfire.

Her heart thudded loud in her ears way too loud for her own safety, surely Film could hear it. Her face flushed instantly, heat crawling up her neck and burning into her cheeks. Her ears were turning red she could definitely feel them, glowing like cherries.

She swallowed hard.

Calm down, Namtan. Calm down.

She tried to focus on the booking screen again, but the words blurred in her mind itself. Her mind was spiraling and not because Film was too close, but because she wanted her to be. That was the terrifying part. Film’s innocent playfulness, the way her breath tickled the skin just below Namtan’s jaw, the soft hum she made while settling in it was too much. Too gentle. Too intimate.

I’m not ready for this.

Not like this.

What if I stink?

That thought struck like a lightning bolt.

Namtan’s eyes widened slightly her body tensed even more. They had just finished rehearsal. She’d been dancing, sweating, running around the whole afternoon. Her usual rose-scented perfume had long faded into the mix of exhaustion and sweat. She wasn’t fresh. She wasn’t clean. Her skin was probably sticky. Her hair clung to her nape.

What if Film smelled it?

What if her fingers touched something unpleasant?

What if she wrinkled her nose?

What if she pulls away?

The dread sank in deeper as if she was being pulled into the blackhole.

Her stomach twisted while her arms stayed stiff by her side. She didn’t want to move, didn’t want to ruin the moment but well she couldn’t ignore the loud swirl of overthinking thoughts smashing around in her skull.

I want her to hold me.

I want her to keep playing with my hair.

But not like this.

Not when I feel like I’ve taken a bath in liters of sweat.

She was afraid not of Film, but of losing this closeness, of the intimate moment between them. Of tainting it. Of making Film uncomfortable and not even realizing it until it was too late. What if this was the last time she’d let herself get this close?

Film, of course, remained blissfully unaware of the whole overthink situation that was going on in Namtan brain.

She shifted a little, her hand falling to Namtan’s arm as she murmured something incoherent, almost like a hum of contentment. Her head leaned slightly closer, her forehead brushing against Namtan’s collarbone. She was so at peace and relaxed after the tiring day.

Namtan’s throat tightened.

She loved this kind of peace. Loved it way too much for her own good that she questions herself.

Why do I always fall apart when you're this close?

Her phone beeped again, but she ignored it. She couldn't move. Her body was like statue, her mind was fighting a different war with itself.

If I speak, I’ll ruin it. If I move, it’ll break.

So she stayed still, burning herself alive in a war only she could feel, her heart pounding in her chest, pulse erratic near her ear, hoping that somehow her scent didn’t betray her. Hoping that Film wouldn’t notice how tense she was. Hoping Film would just… stay.

Because even in this mess of being anxious and nervous, her sweat and perfume were one truth that echoed louder than any other.

And well Film was the only person who was in power to make the extroverted Namtan feel nervous and weak at her knees and yet still want to be held like she were a small kid.

Without thinking and giving the slightest warning Namtan shut her eyes tight and let out a sudden, panicked yelp:

“FILM!”

It wasn’t a scream born out of anger or frustration. No, it was more like a plea, a desperate cry whispered to the universe, to Buddha, to whatever force of mercy existed.

Please! her whole mind screamed.
Please don’t let her smell me like this!

But her voice had sadly betrayed her.

It cracked under the weight of her anxiousness, buried in a stammering mess of fluster and frantic overthinking. What she thought had been a whisper came out loud, way too loud. The room which was previously filled with soft chatter and light movements, stilled in an instant.

Every head turned in the room.

And Poor Film, her body jolted upright at the sound. She’d flinched visibly. Like someone had smacked her across the heart. Her fingers had been in Namtan’s hair just seconds ago, brushing so gently, unaware of the storm inside the girl that she had been adoring.

Her eyes widened confusion flickering over her face before a quiet, unnameable pain settled into her expression. She stared at Namtan for a moment, still curled beside her, while her face was still red, breathing in short bursts of embarrassment. But Film didn’t speak.

Her mind had already started racing.

Namtan yelled at me.

Now, she was pulling back like she’d touched something she shouldn’t have.

Her eyes searched Namtan’s face, confused, hurt,  her eyes continuously blinking for an answer.

What just happened?

In all these years no one had ever dared to raise their voice at Film.

Had she misread everything?

All those hugs… the little glances… her leaning into me… her snuggling close at night shoots was that just Namtan being Namtan?

The way Namtan clung to her like she was home.

Had it all been nothing?

Did she disgust Namtan?

Was she being annoying?

Was she… unwelcome?

Her chest tightened with each question.

Had I been seeing things that weren’t there?

Film’s stomach dropped. It felt like the floor had vanished beneath her.

A single word had undone her. And not just because of how loud it was but because it was Namtan. Because Namtan had never raised her voice at her before. People adored her. Admired her. Respected her space, her silence, her gentle nature.

Film always knew her place. Always made sure she wasn’t too much. She never gave anyone a reason to raise their voice

But now ...this?

Film stood up slowly her legs felt heavier than ever, her eyes flicked around the room and realized the curious stares. 

Film kept her eyes low, her face unreadable, lips tight. She didn’t say a word. Didn’t ask for clarification. Didn’t ask why. 

She grabbed her bag. 

And walked out.

P’Ying, sensing the awkward tension like a blade in the air, stepped forward quickly. “Alright, everyone, we’ll wrap it here. That’s it for today, go get some rest.”

The rest of the team began to shuffle out, casting sidelong glances at Namtan, who hadn’t moved an inch they assumed it as an usual friendly banter between her and Film.

Namtan's fingers eventually curled tightly around her phone, the screen was dark now. Her ears buzzed and her mind blank.

Wait… why did she walk away?

She left without saying goodbye.

Namtan’s heart dropped like a stone into her gut.

Everyone was leaving. The studio emptied bit by bit, their murmurs fading into the hallway. She sat alone on the floor, a million thoughts crashing into her all at once.

Did she think I yelled at her?

Did I hurt her?

She buried her face into her palms, mortified.

That wasn't what she meant to do.

Not even close.

She had panicked.

It was so stupid of her. All because she didn’t want Film to catch a whiff of sweat. She hadn’t meant to yell at Film. She hadn't meant to sound like she was rejecting Film’s closeness. And now…

Film was gone.

Namtan clutched her head, letting out a muffled groan of despair. Her fingers gripped her scalp.

“What the hell have I done?” she muttered under her breath, voice thick with regret. “I just… I just didn’t want her to smell me! Not like that! Not when I stink!”

And now, instead of simply avoiding a little post-rehearsal odor humiliation, she had accidentally screamed at the girl she liked, the girl who had just begun to opening up to her.

The guilt? Oh, it was eating Namtan alive.

There was only one person who could pull her out of this absolute mess.

She scrambled her fingers over her phone, fumbling across the screen. The moment the call connected, a familiar voice answered, perfectly calm and nonchalant:

“What is it now?”

“Ciize!” Namtan practically wailed, already sounding like someone who knew they'd messed up very badly. “Listen, I… I really messed up. Like huge mess.”

Ciize rolled her eyes on the other end of the call. “What did you do now Tipnaree?”

Namtan launched into a rushed, frantic explanation, spilling every detail from A to Z. It all tumbled out making Ciize’s jaw drop and her soul leave her body halfway through the explanation.

When Namtan finally finished, Ciize yelled so loud it almost pierced the phone speaker.

“What the actual fuck Namtan! YOU ABSOLUTE LOSER!”

Namtan winced, holding the phone away from her ear as Ciize’s voice tore through the screen.

“She was finally giving herself to you and y'all were literally cuddling! AND YOU SCREAMED?! Over what? your filthy sweaty body?!”

“I panicked!” Namtan pleaded, curling into herself. “Please, Ciize… save me. Fix it. Tell me what to do, I’m begging you.”

Ciize sighed dramatically, her voice was filled with mix of frustration and fondness towards Namtan.

“I swear… how did I end up with a best friend like you? Even Milk has better timing, and she once confessed her crush during a funeral!”

“CIIZE!” Namtan whined, swinging her limbs like a toddler.

“Alright, alright, fine,” Ciize relented. “Let’s see… First off, don’t do anything. That might actually be the best thing you could possibly do for yourself and for Film.”

“But...!”

“But nothing,” Ciize snapped. “Look, I don’t think Film will spiral into some big emotional pit over this she is way smarter then you. But the way you reacted? Yeah. It definitely sent the wrong message.”

“I know,” Namtan whispered, voice filled with guilt. “That’s why I called you.”

“Well, congratulations on knowing the obvious,” Ciize said smugly. “Good news is Great people like me exist. Bad news is, we can’t undo what happened. But we can try to frame it in a better way.”

“I’m listening,” Namtan said quickly, sitting upright, her eyes widening up with hope.

“Make it sound like you were calling her name, not yelling. Just say your voice is naturally loud, and you didn’t realize it sounded like a scream. Laugh it off. Play dumb. Please, you’re good at that.”

Namtan nodded eagerly on her end.

Ciize sighed. “Don’t nod at me, you empty-headed buffoon. GO! Move your legs and FIX IT before she convinces herself you hate her.”

“I’m going now!” Namtan yelped. “Thank you, so much Ciize”

“Yes, yes, sing my praises later. Go, dumbass!”

Namtan shot up from the floor, full of determination, grabbing her bag like she was heading into battle.

This was it. Operation: Damage Control.

Step one: Locate Film.
Step two: Explain.
Step three: Make her laugh.
Step four: Beg for forgiveness.

And most importantly never, ever make Film sad, because if she loves you she would never point your insecurity at you.

Namtan rushed back home, she took a shower like she was washing away her sins, scrubbing off the sweat and regret that clung to her skin. She then wrapped in her favorite oversized tee, hair still damp, she sat in front of her phone, the ring light casting a soft glow, the Live button staring back at her like a challenge.

She took a deep breath and pressed it.

At first, her words stumbled. She smiled awkwardly, eyes darting off-screen, trying to act as if everything was fine.

“So… hey, guys. You know how I sometimes scream without realizing?” she chuckled nervously, scratching her temple. “Yeah, today was... one of those days. I wasn’t mad. I promise. I just... my voice is loud, and it slipped. That’s all.”

The chats flooded with laughing emojis and teasing comments. Some fans even wrote “Namtan’s default volume = max” and “Poor Film must’ve jumped five feet!”

Namtan smiled, feeling a little more relaxed now, slowly spinning the situation in the most harmless way she could.

By the end of the hour, she felt somewhat reassured. She ended the live with a sheepish grin and a hopeful heart.

She hoped the fans did the rest.

Hashtags trended. Screen-recorded clips with captions like “She didn’t mean it 🥲” and “Protect Film at all costs 🛐” flooded social media.

And sure enough, an hour later, Film’s username lit up with a Live notification.

Namtan watched in silence, her stomach flipping as the stream loaded.

Film was wearing a calm face that didn’t hide the slight redness around her eyes.

Film spoke slowly, deliberately. “No one’s ever yelled at me before. I wasn’t angry, just… surprised. Confused, mostly.”

She smiled faintly. “And it was Namtan… so it stung a little more than it should have.”

Namtan's heart sank lower with every word.

“I know she probably didn’t mean it like that. Still…” Film’s voice softened, “...it made me question a lot. I didn’t know if I’d crossed a line.”

The chat flooded with hearts and support, some fans defending Namtan, others typing long emotional essays about miscommunication between friends.

Film laughed lightly. “Don’t fight, guys. I’m okay. I just… needed to say it out loud. That’s all.”

She ended the live with a small smile, a quiet wave, the kind of calm that didn’t fully reach her eyes.

Namtan stared at her screen long after the live ended, guilt washing all over her like a heavy tide.

“She felt bad... because of me.”

Her chest tightened. That wasn’t what she wanted. Not with Film. Never with Film. All she ever wanted was to wrap Film up like the softest thing in the world, spoil her with affection, and make sure she knew she was special, Loved, Cared for and Babied.

But today… she made her sad.

And Namtan didn’t know how to fix that with words anymore.

So instead, she took a picture.

She carried boo and babe on the bed placed them gently begging them to not move and show their sweet cute faces towards the camera, while she placed tiny Lunar in between them. She captioned it simply:

“I miss you more than I show. I love you more than you know.”

She hit send.

A moment later, Film replied.

A single red heart sticker.

Namtan let out a sigh that had been sitting in her chest for hours. She dropped her phone beside her pillow, flopped onto the bed and whispered into the bedsheet:

“Never again in my life I swear no more loud screaming.”

Film yanked open another drawer with more force than necessary. Hoodies tumbled out in a pile. She didn’t care. She folded aggressively, her brows furrowed, jaws clenched, replaying the moment in the studio over and over like a bad loop she couldn’t escape.

Was it too much?

Was it my fault…?

Her thoughts swirled like a storm until-

Ding-dong.

The sound made her freeze. She blinked, hoodie half-folded in her hands. For a moment, she considered ignoring it. But the bell rang again, more insistent this time.

She dropped the hoodie on the bed with a sigh and walked towards the door, expecting it to be a delivery she forgot about.

Instead, she was greeted by the sight of Love, standing smugly with two boxes of doughnuts in hand like a messenger sent by fate.

“Love?” Film deadpanned.

“Are you going to let me stand here or are you going to let me in?” Love smirked, already stepping inside like she owned the place.

Film rolled her eyes but closed the door behind her.

“Why are you here?” she asked, folding her arms.

“Oh, me?” Love said, batting her lashes innocently. “Someone called me sounding all sad and heartbroken, so I came to say hi. Clearly, I shouldn’t have.”

“Done with the acting?” Film asked, already turning her back and heading to her bedroom again.

Love followed casually holding doughnut boxes. “I saw the live, Film. You were sad.”

“I said I’m fine,” Film muttered, grabbing another pile of shirts to fold. Her movements were sharper than usual, bordering on frustrated.

“I doubt P’Namtan meant it that way,” Love offered. “You know she has a loud voice. She probably didn’t even realize it came out like a yell.”

Film snorted, folding a t-shirt before stuffing it into a compartment with zero elegance.

Love leaned against the bed frame, watching her. “Seriously, think about it. Why would P'Namtan out of all people would yell at you? You’re like her number one favorite person.”

Film stopped.

A moment passed.

“Are you here to see me or be her defense lawyer?” she asked, her voice totally flat.

“Both,” Love said brightly, popping open the doughnut box and holding it toward Film. “Here. Try one. It’s filled with vanilla custard and chocolates.”

Film hesitated… then took one. She bit into it slowly, chewing with a frown that softened because yes, it was indeed delicious.

Love grinned like she’d won. “See? Told you.”

But the smile faded slightly when Film finally spoke again her voice felt conflicted.

“What if… she didn’t like me getting close to her? What if I read too much into it and she only sees me the way she sees everyone else?”

Love put the box down.

“No,” she said firmly, eyes locking with Film’s. “Don’t even go there. Namtan doesn’t treat you like everyone else. She never has. Even Ciize noticed, and that girl can tell a crush from even a mile.”

Film let out a short, almost-laugh.

Love leaned in a little. “And about being uncomfortable? Honestly, I think she just panicked. You two were rehearsing all day. She probably thought she smelled bad and didn’t want you to think she’s gross or something. That wasn’t about you, Film. That was just her being-well-her.”

Film blinked slowly. “She thought… I wouldn’t like how she smelled?”

Love nodded. “Yup. Phi has been in love with you like since forever. And you know what sucks?” she raised an eyebrow. “The one time she actually lets herself enjoy being close to you, she freaks out because she’s afraid you might not like it.”

Film looked away, staring at her half-done closet.

“…She did smell like sweat and so did I.”

Love rolled her eyes. “And I bet you liked it either way.”

Film blushed, averting her gaze as she took another bite of the doughnut.

“Yeah. I did.”

Love grinned wide. “Exactly. So stop overthinking, stop folding shirts like you’re trying to kill them, and maybe send her a text saying you liked it.”

Film looked thoughtful and guilty. “She already sent a picture of our kids.”

Love raised a brow. “Classic Namtan apology.”

Film finally smiled just a little, but at least genuine this time. “She said, I miss you more than I show. I love you more than you know."

Love smirked, biting into her own doughnut. “Told you she’s already yours.”

Film sighed softly and let the half folded shirt slip from her hands onto the bed. Love’s words echoed in her head like a calming rhythm.

She chuckled, the tension in her chest loosening bit by bit. 

From the corner of the room, Love noticed the smile slowly spreading across Film’s face.

“Well, well,” she drawled, walking over with the last pile of folded clothes in hand. “Someone’s smiling looking at their screen. I swear, I’m rooting for the two of you so hard, it’s honestly like a crime on how cute you both are.”

Film blushed, her eyes snapping up from her phone. “Don’t start filling my head with your delusions.”

Love dramatically placed her hand on her chest. “Delusion? Excuse me, but I am the voice of the people. And P’Namtan is literally the captain of your ship. Me and the rest of the fans? We’re just humble sailors praying for crumbs. Y’all share one glance and it trends.”

Film couldn’t help but laugh at that. “Okay, okay, are you done with your entire speech?”

“For now,” Love grinned, grabbing her phone. “Anyway, I gotta run. P’Milk and I have shoot tomorrow and so can't be late.”

Film followed her to the door. “Thanks for the doughnuts.”

Love threw her a wink. “Thanks for the drama.”

As she stepped out, Love opened her phone and quickly typed out a message to Namtan:

Love: All done, phi. Your woman is back to smiling. 😊

The reply came almost instantly like Namtan had been staring at the screen, just waiting for it.

Namtan: Thank you so much, nong!! 😭 I owe you big time. I’ll tell Milk to give you anything you want tomorrow just send me the bill. Seriously, thank you. 🙏💗

Love smirked to herself. “She’s hopeless,” she muttered, fondly shaking her head as she walked away.

Namtan placed her phone gently over her chest, lying still on the bed with a long exhale. Love’s message played in her head again: Your woman is back to smiling.

It was enough.

Film wasn’t mad.

And for Namtan, that was all that she needed to steady the storm inside her.

She was beginning to relax, her phone buzzed again, buzzing across her collarbone. She quickly picked it up - Ciize.

The moment she answered, Ciize’s voice exploded from the other end.

“So? What’s the status? Did it work? I hope to Buddha that Film isn’t mad. I mean, you know she can be a little sensitive sometimes..."

Namtan cut her off immediately. “Dare you say anything bad about my Racha!”

There was a dramatic pause. Then Ciize laughed, drawing out the word with teasing delight.

“My Racha, huh?” she repeated, dragging every syllable. “Look at that! From Film to now my Racha… y’all act like you’ve been married for twelve years already.”

Namtan flustered. “You were babbling and not letting me speak don’t twist my words!”

Ciize giggled, clearly enjoying herself. “Okay, okay, Mrs Rachanun, please enlighten me.”

Namtan’s tone immediately softened. “Well, she’s not mad.”

That single sentence came out in the happiest voice Ciize had heard from her all week. It was as if Namtan had just won the lottery or better, Film’s heart all over again.

Ciize sighed, relieved and exhausted. “That’s great news. Now, for the love of all sacred temples and holy monks, PLEASE don’t mess this up again. You love her way too much to keep messing up stuff.”

“I know,” Namtan said sincerely. “And I won’t.”

“Good.” Ciize paused, then added with mock sternness, “Kapook couldn't contain herself at the mess you created and next time before doing something stupid, kindly use that empty head of yours.”

Namtan groaned, burying her face into her pillow. “I can’t believe you told Ka.”

“She was sitting right next to me when you called!” Ciize laughed unapologetically. “We were talking to our manager about the fan meet schedule. I’m still shocked by how much love the fans are showing us. It’s like a blessing.”

Namtan’s smile returned. “I’m really happy for you both. You and Kapook deserve this limelight, finally getting the recognition you’ve earned and deserved. You guys are gonna be the power couple at the next fest.”

“Oh, definitely,” Ciize teased. “A solid competition to RACHANAREE.”

Namtan laughed, playfully defensive. “Really now?”

“See for yourself,” Ciize said, already yawning. “I’m tired. Sleep well, loverbird.”

And with that, the call ended.

Namtan tossed the phone onto her bed, flopped back against the pillows, and pulled her blanket up to her chin. Her gaze landed on the phone screen again the last image open was an edit of her and Film, arms looped around each other, with Lunar, squeezed happily between them.

She smiled to herself, whispering softly:

“My Racha.”