Archive of Our Own ^beta

You walked into the room

And now my heart has been stolen

You took me back in time to when I was unbroken

Now you're all I want

And I knew it from the very first moment

'Cause a light came on when I heard that song

And I want you to sing it again

Sky found himself alone behind a table, with a pile of posters to sign, his hands already begging for a break and his mind refusing to stay focused. He'd flashed two mechanical smiles, exchanged a few polite words with the staff, then given up. He took his phone from his pocket and unlocked it with an automatic gesture, looking for any kind of distraction.

Twitter was full of comments about the series, memes from scenes that had already gone viral, fanart portraying them in every romantic scenario imaginable. But it was one post in particular that stopped him cold.

A video.
The camera showed Tui, sitting in a chair with a guitar on his lap. His fingers moved lightly over the strings, the sound soft, romantic, almost intimate. But it was the caption that hit Sky square in the chest.

"There’s a boy who keeps singing for me."
Posted by Nani Hirunkit, just ten minutes earlier.

Sky didn’t understand what he was feeling at first. A mix of irritation, a burning sensation, something that slid halfway between jealousy and sadness. He sighed, turned off the screen, and dropped the phone onto the table with a dull thud.

Part of him wanted to laugh at how over-the-top his reaction was.
But another part didn’t.
Another part was trying not to think about Nani laughing with someone else, someone who wasn’t him.

He grabbed the marker and returned to signing posters, but his signatures had become tense, traced with sharp, almost angry movements. Every now and then he messed up a curve, forgot a letter, and his name became a scratch on the glossy paper.

It wasn’t Tui who was the problem. Not really.
It was that stupid thought he couldn’t shake: that maybe, just for a moment, Nani had forgotten about him. That maybe, out there, he was having a sweet, beautiful moment with someone else… and Sky wasn’t a part of it.

A boy who sings for him.

And him? What had he done?

He’d cooked for him, wiped a piece of parsley off his lips, made him laugh until he couldn’t breathe with ridiculous jokes. They’d spent entire days together, learning more about each other, becoming friends, closer and closer friends.

Now he was alone, signing posters like they were blank checks, with nothing left to fill them.

He tried to focus. On the name to write. On the handwriting. On the ink flowing. But every time the pen touched paper, a little part of him went back to that post. To that sentence. So simple, so sharp, too poetic to be harmless.

"There’s a boy who keeps singing for me." And Sky wasn’t singing.

For me.

What kind of phrase was that?

The more he signed, the more the thought returned. No, not just the thought, thoughts. One after another, like waves chasing each other at the shore. Because honestly, Nani had been acting strange all day.

Fewer words. Fewer laughs. More of a surface-level presence than a real one. Even during the fan meeting, when Sky had tried to tease him with a joke about an old blooper, Nani had smiled… but only with his mouth.

And then, that sudden split for autographs. Sky had felt cut off.

But then came the sharper question, like a splinter under the skin: Was it the staff’s decision? Or was it his? Nani’s?

He tried to shake it off with a shrug, but the question stayed there, lodged in his chest. Coughing softly to be noticed.

Sky sighed again, too loudly. The assistant next to him glanced over, maybe to check if he was okay. Sky forced a quick smile and went back to signing, but each stroke of the marker grew sharper.

He was signing like each letter could scrape away the irritation burning just beneath the surface.

It’s not jealousy, he told himself. It’s just… confusion. It’s exhaustion. It’s the pressure.

Yeah. Maybe.

After another autograph, he took a sip of water and, against his better judgment, reopened Twitter. The video already had thousands of likes. Some fans had commented with hearts, others wrote “Tui is amazing, Nani deserves only sweet songs!”, and someone had already made a fancam with an even more romantic tune.

Sky felt a sharp pang in his chest.

Without thinking, he exited the app. Then, more slowly, opened the private chat with Nani. Their last exchange was from that morning: a dumb meme from a scene in the latest episode.

Nani had replied: If you and Saint have anything in common, it’s that you’re both idiots!
Sky had answered, mock-offended: Hey, I’m not an idiot, To which Nani had replied: Didn’t say you were aware of it…

They’d laughed. Because it was nice, thinking that their characters had brought out real parts of themselves, ones that fit together perfectly even off-screen.

Now, there was no laughter. Sky hesitated. Fingers over the keyboard.

“Nice video.”
He deleted it.

“Tui sings well.”
Deleted.

In the end, he simply typed: “When you’re done being entertained, wait for me outside. Let’s go home together.”

He realized afterward there was a passive-aggressive note in that message that wasn’t really like him. It was something that belonged more to Nani than to Sky. But his influence… all that time spent together… it must’ve rubbed off on him.

In any case, it was a good way to let Nani know that something wasn’t sitting right between them.

He reopened his phone a little later. The notifications were pouring in. He scrolled absentmindedly, but one retweet made him stop.

It was the video he himself had posted the night before: a shaky clip of their night out at karaoke with Tay and the older guys from the company. A cheerful, slightly chaotic night, full of off-key singing and laughter.

In the video, Sky was singing into a mic, while Tay and Off laughed around him. Tay had tagged Nani, joking that it was a “throwback” from when he was young.

And Nani had replied, curtly: Got it 👍🏻

Sky read it twice. Then a third time. It was a neutral response. Too neutral. That thumbs-up wasn’t approval. It was digital sarcasm. Passive-aggressiveness in emoji form.

Tay had replied, ironically, inquisitively: “And what tone of voice is that supposed to be?”

Sky’s eyes returned to the post from today. To Tui. To the guitar. To the line: “There’s a boy who keeps singing for me.”

What if it was… payback? A clever way of saying: I can be seen too. I have someone singing for me too. And it’s not you, Sky.

His heart thumped louder. Or maybe it was just the tension rising to his stomach like a badly boiled kettle.

Could it be… that Nani felt the same way I’m feeling now?

It was easier to picture him annoyed. Hurt. Jealous. Easier than imagining he was just tired.

Sky ran a hand across his forehead. The headache came right on cue, like an overzealous assistant director.

--

When he finally stepped outside the studio, the sky had already shifted to a deep blue, nearly violet. The fresh air prickled at his temples. He took a few steps out, breathed deeply.

He spotted Nani a few meters away. Alone. Hands in his pockets, head lowered. He looked like he’d been standing still for hours, like a character frozen between scenes. Sky walked over slowly, fatigue settling deep in his bones.

“Hey, want me to drive you home?” he asked, his voice softer than he’d intended.

Nani lifted his gaze only slightly. He nodded. No smile, no “thank you.” Just a small, silent nod.

Sky could’ve taken it badly. Maybe another day he would have.
But now… now he didn’t.

Now, it was enough to know they were both tired.

“Okay” he murmured. “Let’s go.”

They walked to the car in silence. Side by side. Not too close. But not far either. And inside Sky, something folded in on itself. He wasn’t sure if it was because of what was happening… Or because of what was about to.

The car ride was silent.
Not the relaxed, complicit kind of silence they’d grown used to, this one creaked from the inside.

Sky kept one hand on the wheel, the other resting on the gear shift. Every so often, he turned slightly, stealing quick glances at his passenger.

Nani was lazily scrolling through his phone, not really reading, just out of habit. The screen cast a faint light across his cheekbones, but his expression remained unreadable. There was no trace of the Nani who, by now, had become chatty with him. The one who chuckled under his breath at stupid jokes, who complained about food like a retired food critic, who looked over at him while he drove and asked”Are you sure you know where you’re going?”

Sky realized he missed that Nani. Missed him like you miss something you thought you’d found like a treasure, and protected as if you were its only rightful owner.

“Are you tired?” he asked, finally breaking the silence.

Nani lifted his gaze slowly. He looked at him for a second, then turned to stare straight ahead again.

“No more than usual” he murmured.

Sky began tapping his fingers on the gear shift. An involuntary tic. A nervous escape.

Tap, tap, tap.

Nani glanced down at the hand. Then slowly looked back up, studying Sky’s profile: tense, still, hardened in a way that didn’t suit him.

He let out a long breath.

“What do you want to ask me, Sky?”

Sky swallowed. Then, almost like something cracked, or was freed, inside him, he said it.

“Did I do something wrong?”

The question came out faster than he expected. More honest. Barer.

Nani scratched his temple. He knew it. He knew it would come to this sooner or later. That keeping everything inside only made the knot tighter.

He took a breath. What he had to say wasn’t hard, just uncomfortable.

“Yes” he said softly. “Last night I was at home alone watching YouTube videos…”

Sky didn’t say anything, but he stopped tapping.

“…and you were out having fun at karaoke with the others.”

There it was. The dart, tossed in a quiet voice, but sharp all the same.

Sky tightened his grip on the steering wheel.

“And that...” Nani began, but didn’t get to finish.

“I felt alone today while signing posters” Sky cut in, his voice clearer, firmer. “While you had someone serenading you…”

Nani’s eyes widened slightly. Hit... And sunk. His heart leapt into his throat like a light drumbeat. His cheeks flushed, barely, but he felt it. That heat that only truth can summon.

He didn’t look at Sky. He couldn’t. Not yet. Because he knew that if he did, and if Sky looked back, even for a second, his face would betray him. His eyes, most of all.

“Don’t change the subject” he said, trying to sound serious. But he realized he was smiling.

Smiling, yes. Because something inside was quietly celebrating: Sky had been jealous. Jealous of him.

Just like he’d been the night before.

They’d both danced the same small waltz of insecurities, wounded by missed attention, trying to retaliate gently through tweets and videos.

Was it childish? Sure.
But also tender.
Real.
Human.

The smile tugged at his lips, unwilling but fond. It had been a cold war that lasted less than 24 hours… and yet it was enough to prove there was something important here. Something worth protecting. Worth not letting go.

“You looked happy” Sky said, in a tone that wasn’t quite accusatory. Or maybe it was, but politely. Softly. A tone that didn’t demand an answer, but was ready to receive one.

Nani thanked the shadows in the car. The way they hid his still-warm cheeks, the lip that had trembled.

“Tui was just singing for me…” he began. But Sky cut him off. Not harshly, but firmly.

“And I was sitting there signing posters all alone, with no one to talk to.”

He paused for a beat. Not no one. Not you to talk to.

The way that thought slipped out, like something escaping from his hands, unnerved him. But it was the truth. And that truth stung the most.

“And you had a musician singing you a ballad” he added again.

Precise. Like a needle.

Nani felt dizzy. Too many feelings at once. Still a little angry, still a little hurt. But also… unguarded. Like Sky, confessing so awkwardly, so sincerely, had just peeled away his armor.

“So… you’re upset with me because someone else, someone I had no control over, sang a song to me?” Nani asked, unsure whether to laugh or panic.

Sky stopped at a red light. Eyes fixed on the traffic signal, then turned slightly toward him.

“I’m not saying this because I was angry, Nani…” he said. Then lowered his gaze.

“But… wait. Are you mad at me?”

His voice was that of a scared puppy. One hiding behind words but still trembling in the eyes.

Nani looked at him. Then turned back to the window. He couldn’t hold his gaze. Not now. Not with that question. Not with that voice.

“I’m not saying I’m mad at you, either…” he murmured, choosing his words carefully. “But I’m a little… sad. I feel a little hurt.”

Sky nodded, barely.
Then, without thinking, leaned forward and reached for his hand. But Nani pulled it away gently, without rejection.
There was no intention to hurt, he just wasn’t ready to resolve things through physical affection yet. And Sky was often physical. He was better at that than at words. Nani knew this well.

“The light’s green, Sky.”

Sky turned back to the wheel and drove off. The silence had changed. Now it was filled with something softer. No less tense, but more… real.

“You feel hurt… for what reason?” Sky asked after a moment, calm.

Nani lowered his head.

“I won’t tell you…” Because being jealous of you and staying home while you were having fun with others isn’t normal, right?

Since we’re just friends?

But he said nothing. He just tightened his hands on his knees and added quietly, “but I do feel hurt. So I talked less today. Did you notice?”

Sky gave a half-smile without looking over.

Nani continued, trying to keep his voice steady. “And tomorrow it’ll be the same. Not that I’ll talk to you less… Just…” He paused. “I’ll do it normally.”

That word weighed heavily. Like a question.

What even is normal for us?

The car turned gently.

“Why? Are we seeing each other tomorrow?” Sky asked, a mix of curiosity and teasing in his voice.

Nani sighed, barely audible.

“Then I won’t call you at all and I won’t talk to you anymore” he said, his voice cracking into a smile that wasn’t sarcastic, it was just… tender. Revealing.

Nani was sulking. But maybe he was doing it so Sky would tell him not to. So Sky would say: please don’t.

Sky, however, chose silence. He was analyzing the choice. Decoding it.

A second later, Sky felt his lips curl on their own. It was useless to resist. He was smiling too. Because maybe, in the end, they’d said everything without actually saying it. No, not that they were idiots. They already knew that.

But two idiots deeply jealous of one another?

Yes.

So maybe this was where it began. Not with serenades. Not with karaoke. But with a hand brushed halfway.
A “Where were you?” disguised as “I looked for you.” A “I missed you” hidden inside a “I’m not telling you.”

“But wait…” Sky interjected, tilting his head slightly, with that look he always had before one of his half-teasing remarks.

“What does the karaoke night have to do with me? Tay promised you something, right? He’s the one who didn’t keep his word, not me. I never promised you anything.”

The smile that followed was small, but sly. Because now he knew. He understood that the jealousy went both ways. And he wanted to savor every shade of that discovery.

Nani scoffed, almost scandalized.

“You went out with him, so you got involved! So I’m sad and hurt, and it’s partly your fault” he justified, unable to hide the irritation.

The truth? Tay didn’t matter. He never had.

It was Sky.
Sky who went.
Sky who laughed.
Sky who didn’t reach out.
Sky who didn’t send a message saying “I wish you were here.”

That’s what truly hurt.

Sky chuckled, almost tenderly.

“Well… you hurt me too, today.”

Nani let out another frustrated sound, like he’d just been dragged into a courtroom.

“You’ve no reason to feel hurt by me! What did I do to hurt you? I didn’t do anything on purpose to hurt you!”

Sky pulled up in front of Nani’s condo. He set the parking brake. The engine kept running, but the world felt still.

Sky turned toward him. His smile had faded a bit, not out of anger, but delicacy.

“Do you think I wanted to hurt you?”

Nani lowered his gaze. The hesitation was brief, but enough to betray him.

“No…” he finally said. “…you just made me feel alone.”

Silence fell over the car like a light blanket.

Sky, once again, reached out, slowly. This time, Nani didn’t pull away. He let him.

In fact, he waited.

Sky brushed his thumb over the back of his hand. Slow. Gentle. Instinctive. Like it was something he’d always done, every night.

“What can I do to make it up to you?” he whispered, as if the question itself were fragile.

Nani bit the inside of his cheek. He still felt a little foolish. But also grateful. And warm, inside. And safe. Most of all, safe.

“Don’t go to karaoke without me ever again” he said, looking down, but not pulling his hand away.

Sky smiled, truly this time. A small, affectionate smile. The kind that came with new promises.

“Deal.” Then, more softly still, he added: “…and don’t accept serenades from anyone else.”

Nani blushed slightly. Scoffed, mock-offended. But the smile that slipped out, soft and crooked, gave him away completely.

Sky’s hand was still there, warm, light, like an unspoken promise. He was the one to speak, with a low voice, almost timid, curling at the edges of the silence.

“Can I come up with you?”

He asked it without jokes, without playful remarks. Just like that, naked and sincere.

Lately, it had become a habit: under the excuse of video games, of post-set relaxation sessions, Sky would more and more often end up sleeping on Nani’s couch. Or halfway across his bed, where he’d wake up surprised, as if he’d landed there by accident. And Nani didn’t even question it anymore. Or pretended not to.

However, that night felt different. Because his heart felt like a room full of open boxes: memories, doubts, fragility. Nani didn’t reply right away. His gaze wandered for a moment into the void beyond the windshield, where the condo lights filtered through like reflections too soft to really distract him. Inside him, there was a knot. He knew they had made peace, that Sky had taken his hand, that he was looking at him with those dark eyes that only knew how to say: let me stay with you, Nani.

Nani’s mind was somewhere else. To the end of High School Frenemy. To the fancons that would come, eventually, to close the loop. To the end of all the excuses to keep seeing each other.
Then, to all the people he had let in. To all the ones who had left. To the ones who had faked, lied, taken advantage of him, of his kindness, of his naivety.

Sky wasn’t like them. He felt it, he knew it, he believed it. And yet… there were those parts of Sky, lighter, more reckless.

The way he went out with others without warning, laughed loud and forgot, just for a moment, who he’d left behind.

And what if tomorrow he stops looking for me? What if all this ends just because there’s no longer a script tying us together?

Then he looked at him.

Two black pools. Nervous. Sweet. Pleading, even if he’d never admit it. Eyes that said don’t leave me out tonight. And Nani felt his own wall tremble. Not collapse, but tremble enough to open a gap.

He sighed. Long, deep, like releasing the weight of too many thoughts all at once.

“…Let’s go up” he said finally, in a voice almost resigned to its own tenderness. “I’ll make you some tea. And we’ll play a little.”

Sky didn’t respond right away. He just smiled. One of those small smiles. The kind worth gold because they’re born from relief.

So, as he turned off the car and they walked out together, side by side in the quiet of the night, Nani realized that, for that night at least, he had decided to believe.

Not in the ending. But in Sky.

***

Time had passed without asking permission, dragging with it the last scenes, the interviews, the premieres, the promotional shoots, and then the broadcast, the rankings, the trending topics, the fan meetings, the first fanart printed on pillows, on tote bags, on hearts.
High School Frenemy was no longer just a series, or even a successful project, it had become something beyond them, a phenomenon that moved on its own, walking on the audience’s legs and living in the fans’ feverish fingers.

Now, on the brink of the final stretch, only two dates remained: two sold-out fancons, two concert-events that would mark the end of it all.

Every day for weeks, Sky and Nani had been dragged between rehearsals, between the hands of coaches and managers, between overly specific directions and overly high expectations.
Every sentence felt like a hammer striking the same nail:

“It has to be perfect.”
“You have to shine.”
“This is the closing of a circle. Make it explode.”

Sky, though trying to smile, felt increasingly uncomfortable each time.
He was an actor.
He was born to breathe between lines, to dig into characters, to find truth in silence.
He didn’t dream of the pulsing lights of a stage, the screaming crowds, the hands raised in rhythm, the pressure of a microphone in his fingers.
That had never been his place, but he was stepping into it, because beside him, there was Nani.

Nani… Nani, on the other hand, had grown up inside that dream.
Since he was a teenager, since he’d attended the concerts of “legendary” couples, he had dreamed of that arena, that one, the one of the greats, the one where the lights never really went out.

It was his dream and now that he was getting closer and closer, Nani no longer knew if he would get there with Sky.

Every time a coach repeated”this is the closing of a circle” something in him cracked, as if those words didn’t sound like a celebration, but like a sentence.
Like a goodbye. And it was during the final dress rehearsal, the night before the first fancon, that it happened.

They were in the studio late. The white lights above them were too bright, and the air conditioning spun endlessly, dry, sterile.
Nani was putting his earpiece back in, trying not to trip over his own thoughts, when a coach behind him spoke into the microphone with a sharp tone, clearly wanting everyone to hear the weight of what he was saying:

“Tomorrow we close a circle. It’s the end of a phenomenon. They have to shine.”

They have to shine.
End of a phenomenon.
Closure.

In that instant, Nani felt something give way inside.

At first it was just a heartbeat faster than usual. Then a knot in his throat. Then his hands started sweating, cold, slippery.

He looked at the room, but the room seemed to move away from him. The lights turned too white, the walls too close. The music dimmed, then swelled again, but it sounded like it was coming from far away, like from inside an aquarium. The noises blended into a muffled confusion, buzzing in his ears like a distant echo.

His breath began to fail him.

He brought a hand to his chest. His heart was pounding, too fast for him to keep up. His legs felt weak, and with them a dull panic climbed up his spine, along his neck, into his head.

No one noticed. No one saw his expression change, his gaze glaze over, his skin grow pale, his hands tremble. No one turned around.

So, Nani walked out. Uncertain steps, almost feeling his way. No one said anything as he left the studio. It was late, chaos had absorbed even the smallest attentions.

He made it down the hallway with his eyes downcast. The yellow glow of the neon lights felt too intense, the floor too far away. When he pushed the exit door and finally found himself outside, it was as if the night air exploded into his lungs. But it wasn’t enough.

He walked a few more steps, then collapsed. Literally. His knees gave out, and he found himself on the ground, on the damp asphalt, folded over himself, breathing short and erratically.

The world seemed blurry, as if it were about to switch off at any moment. He thought, without irony, without exaggeration, maybe I’m dying. Maybe his heart would burst in his chest. Maybe he would faint. Maybe this was all too much.

Everything will end, and I don’t know what’s left after that.

That was the thought hammering in his skull. He had already lost too many people, too many bonds that once felt real and then crumbled with the first gust of wind. There had been promises, outstretched hands, sweet messages, and then… nothing.

And what if Sky too, when all this is over, just stops being there?

Nani dug his fingers into the asphalt. It hurt, but at least that way… he could feel. He could feel he was still there. That he existed.

Cold sweat had begun to slide down his forehead, tears along his cheeks pulled by gravity, no longer within his control to hold back. As if all that success, all that love, all those people… had suddenly become too much.

Everything will end a nd he… wasn’t ready.

He didn’t know if he ever would be.

Sky had seen it. Not with his eyes, not at first. But with that kind of precise sensitivity, trained over time, that only develops when you truly care about someone.
He had seen Nani leave the room with steps that were too slow to be normal. He had noticed the way his shoulders were hunched, his breath shallow, his gaze fixed to the ground.
And something inside him had rung an alarm.

He had ripped off his mic, handed it to one of the assistants without even explaining, and followed that body that looked like it was fleeing.

When he saw him collapse to his knees, just outside the studio, a fist clenched in his stomach.

“Nani!”

The word came out choked, and in two long strides he was on him. He grabbed him immediately by the arms, lifting him just slightly off the ground, enough to make him feel someone was there, that he wasn’t alone. But it only took one look at his face to understand everything.

The too-short breath, the tense muscles, the dilated pupils, the pale skin: a panic attack. A real one. Unmistakable.

“Nani, listen to my voice” he said softly, as he sat beside him, one hand supporting his back, the other searching for his.

Nani was trembling. His eyes glossy, his fingers clenched.

“I know” Sky murmured, carefully modulating his tone”I know it feels like you can’t breathe, but you can. Breathe with me, okay?”

He started counting, in a low, steady voice. “One, two, three… inhale… hold… one, two… exhale… good…”

Nani still couldn’t look at him, but his breath was starting to lengthen. Slowly. Slightly, but it was there.

Sky distracted him the way his therapist had taught him, when he too had been pulled into that same invisible abyss.

“Tell me five things you can touch” he whispered, bringing his mouth close to Nani’s ear, keeping his voice calm and low, as if he could guide him out with his eyes closed.

For a moment, there was no answer. Then Nani, with a broken whisper, said”...the asphalt…”

His forehead was still pressed to Sky’s chest, his hands trembling, but he was trying.

“…your hands… the… the fabric of your shirt…”

A ragged breath, then another word, choked: “…my knees… my… shoes.”

“Good. That’s perfect” Sky murmured, gently holding the back of his neck.

“Now four things you can see.”

Nani lifted his head just slightly. His eyes seemed to struggle to focus, but they tried.

“The streetlamp… over there…”

A small gesture toward the neon outside. “The… exit sign. Your… watch.”

He hesitated. Then added, barely audible: “Your collarbone.”

Sky looked at him with endless tenderness.

“Yes. That’s fine. Now… three things you can hear.”

Nani pressed his lips together, then closed his eyes, as if it helped him concentrate.

“…your voice.” That came instantly, like he had grabbed onto it. “A car… in the distance.” A deeper breath. “My… my heart.”

Sky felt that heartbeat under his fingers, irregular, but there. Alive.

“Two smells you can sense.”

Nani drew half a breath, closer to a held-back sob.

“…your scent” he said. There was no irony. Only truth. Only need. “...the rain, or… wet asphalt.”

Sky smiled, pulling him just a little closer.

“Last one” he whispered. “One thing you can taste.”

“My dry throat…” Nani answered after a few seconds. “from fear.”

Sky didn’t say anything. He just pulled him in closer, his hand gently stroking his back.

“That’s enough” he murmured. “You’re doing so well. You’re here. You’re safe.”

At that point, Nani couldn’t stay upright anymore. He collapsed fully against Sky, his body exhausted, as tears streamed down his cheeks without asking permission.

Sky held him like you hold something precious, not asking questions, not demanding anything.

Only presence.
Only love.

Nani didn’t respond. But he listened. You could see it in his eyes, in the way they moved through the air, in the way his breathing was settling.

A couple of minutes later, Nani let out a faint sound, a half-sigh that sounded more like exhaustion than relief, and he slumped even further onto Sky, his forehead pressed to his chest, his hands limp at his sides.

Sky hugged him. Tightly, but gently, like you hold something fragile.

He didn’t ask him anything. He didn’t say “what happened?” Not “why didn’t you tell me?” Not “it’s just stress.”

No questions. Only presence.

Then, slowly, he helped him up. Held him close, as if he could protect him with just one arm around his waist, and guided him toward his car, parked a short distance away.

When Nani sat down, exhausted, with his back against the seat and his eyes closed, Sky stroked his cheek with the back of his hand and whispered:

“I’ll go grab our things and then take you home, okay?”

Nani didn’t open his eyes. He didn’t speak. He just nodded, slowly.

Sky disappeared. Ten minutes. Nani stayed there, his heart calmer now, but his mind still full.

He was thinking only one thing:

How do you survive a life without this kind of care, once you’ve known it? How do you go back from this? How do you fall asleep alone again, after learning what it’s like to feel safe on a shared bed? How do you return to your solitude, after someone has made you feel truly seen?

Sky returned, opened the door with a gentle, almost slow motion, and without saying anything, handed him a bottle of water.

“Drink a little, okay?” he said, and helped him, holding his neck, tilting the bottle with care.

Then, as if it were just a casual gesture, he adjusted his hair, a disguised caress and, right after, he wiped his face, his fingers barely grazing the salt tracks on his cheeks. As he drove, he took his hand. Didn’t hold it tightly. He didn’t need to. He just kept it there. Simply. Steadily.

Nani, though his eyes were still closed, squeezed it back. Just a little. Just enough to say: thank you.

Sky glanced at him now and then.

“Still okay?” he asked, softly.

Nani didn’t speak. He couldn’t, but he nodded, slight dip of the chin. A sufficient answer.

Because Sky, with that look of his, already seemed to know everything else. Even if they no longer had the excuse of the series… That kind of love that seeps into gestures, into silence, into hands that won’t let go…

It doesn’t end with a fancon.

It couldn’t end…

They didn’t say anything during the ride home, but there was no need. Nani was still in a suspended state, as if the real world were far away, a distant echo. Sky, on the other hand, moved with solid calm, almost ritualistic, as if every gesture were an answer to a question Nani couldn’t find the words to ask.

It was Sky who helped him out of the car, who grabbed his bag and slung it over his shoulder, who found the keys by rummaging through the side pockets, who typed in the door code and opened the front door with that ease only someone who already belongs to a place can have.

Inside the apartment, the soft lighting of the living room seemed to welcome them with the same tenderness with which Sky settled Nani onto the couch. He gently slipped off his shoes and massaged his feet slowly, as he’d done before, but this time, there was a deeper care in it, a tenderness that came from the heart, not from habit.

Nani didn’t speak, didn’t even open his eyes. He couldn’t. He was tired. Drained. But he didn’t resist the gestures. On the contrary, he soaked them in, silently.

Sky moved toward the kitchen, opening cupboards without a sound, looking for Nani’s favorite mug, the one with the slightly chipped rim, and prepared a warm herbal tea, sweet and light.
When he returned, he found him still there. Motionless.

As he approached with the mug in hand, Nani barely parted his lips.

“Sky… I’m sorry…” he murmured, but Sky interrupted him immediately, leaning in closer.

“You don’t need to apologize” he said with gentle firmness. “There’s nothing to be sorry for.”

Then he sat behind him, spreading his legs to let Nani rest between them, gently pulling him back against his chest. Arms wrapped around his waist, the mug resting on the coffee table, fingers placed lightly on Nani’s temples.

“Do you have a headache?” he asked, his chin brushing Nani’s hair.

Nani nodded wordlessly.

So, Sky began to massage them, with circular, delicate but firm motions, his two fingers drawing slow, familiar, hypnotic paths. Nani gave in completely, melting into him, back against his broad, strong chest, head tipping back in absolute trust. He let out small sounds of relief, shivered slightly, but didn’t move. The contact was medicine.

Then, all of a sudden, tears. Again. Warm, silent, without warning. A wordless confession.

“I’m sorry…” he whispered, sobbing. “I don’t know what’s happening to me.”

Sky didn’t stop massaging his temples.

“It’s okay” he said softly, reassuring. “Cry if you need to. Cry as much as you need. It’s normal… we’re under so much stress because of these two dates. It’s a lot to carry.”

Nani tried to speak, but the words broke in his throat.

“I don’t-” he tried. Then stopped.

“What?” Sky asked, firm but welcoming.

“I don’t…” he repeated, clinging to him a little more. “…I don’t want all of this to end…”

Sky froze. His fingers on Nani’s temples stopped instantly, as if paralyzed by a truth too big to fit into one breath.

Nani opened his eyes. Glassy, fragile, red. And inside them, all of his truth.

“Nani?” Sky murmured. “What do you mean with “you don’t want all of this to end”?”

“All of it…” he said softly, voice breaking. “The after… the fans’ love… our characters… and you…”

Sky shifted slightly, just enough to get a better look at him, but he didn’t let go.

“What are you talking about?”

Nani sniffled, shaken, confused, raw. And yet there, in Sky’s arms, safer than he had ever felt.

“When the two FanCons are over…” he mumbled, unable to meet his gaze, staring instead at some undefined point on the floor in front of them”you and I… we won’t have any more projects.”

His voice was low, cracked, like he was afraid that saying it out loud might make it real.

“Yeah, maybe there’ll be sponsorships… maybe they’ll ask us to do events together, but… you won’t have any reason to stay with me anymore.”

Sky stared at him, his chest rising slowly, deeply, to hold back an emotion pressing under his ribs like a restless wave.
Then he raised a hand, gently took Nani’s chin between his fingers, and, with softness, made him look into his eyes.

“How long have you been keeping this all inside?”

Nani swallowed. “A while…” he confessed, barely audible.

Sky paused. A long pause. He breathed, looking at him as if reading every shadow, every hesitation across his face.

“Nani…”

He bit the inside of his cheek, holding back the tide.
For fuck’s sake, how badly he wanted to kiss him. Right then. To make him understand with his mouth, his body, everything words couldn’t say, that it wouldn’t end. That they weren’t a project.

“I have no intention of leaving” he said instead, with a voice firm and full. “Even if there aren’t any more projects together, even if they never cast us as a pair again, even if there’s nothing official left… you and I are not just tied by work. I thought I’d made that clear.”

Nani lowered his gaze again, shy, uncertain.

“I’m not the best at reading signals.”

Sky smiled, tenderly. He stroked Nani’s cheek with the back of his fingers, the way you touch something precious.

“I noticed.”

Then he leaned in a little, resting his chin lightly on Nani’s shoulder, his voice dropping to a whisper, like a secret.

“I want to keep being part of your life. I want to keep coming here at night and playing games with you until it’s late, so I have an excuse to sleep over…”

He pulled back just enough to look him in the eyes again.

“That wasn’t obvious?”

Nani half-smiled. “I thought you were just too lazy to go back to your own apartment.”

Sky scoffed, half amused, half incredulous. “And all the times I crawled into your bed?”

“I thought the couch was too uncomfortable… and the A/C too high.”

A beat of silence. Then Sky looked at him with wide eyes, full of affection and disbelief.

“Nani…” he said softly. “You really thought I wanted to be done with you… once the series wrapped up?”

Nani gave the tiniest of nods. Almost imperceptible. But yes.

Sky shook his head, his fingers now slipping through Nani’s hair like a reflex.

“I want to grow with you” he said. “Yes, I want to work with you again, but not just that. I want to see you in the morning. Bring you breakfast. Argue over which movie to watch. Change our minds. Be boring. Wake up with you on top of me. We’re not just coworkers, right?”

“Are we friends?” Nani asked, and there was something mischievous in his voice, but also so much, so much need.

Sky mimicked him with a raised eyebrow.

“Are we friends?” he repeated, like a parrot. Then, without losing his smile, he waited for Nani to be brave enough to reply the only way that made sense.

“Mai*” he whispered. The Thai word for “No.” A definitive, categorical no.

Sky held his gaze for half a breath, then smiled, looking into his eyes, and down to the mouth that had just spoken the answer he’d been craving from the moment he met Nani.

Sky leaned in, just a little, just enough to brush against his lips. A touch more like a promise than a kiss. But it was enough.

“I didn’t picture it happening like this…” Sky whispered, nose against his. “But I’m happy it finally did.”

Nani said nothing. He didn’t have to. Words, in that moment, would’ve only been a clumsy shadow over something that was revealing itself, all on its own, with the precision of a shared breath.

He tilted his chin slightly, a second of hesitation, then leaned in again. He kissed Sky once more, a touch no longer just sought, but chosen. There was no more doubt in it: he chose Sky.

Nani pressed his lips to Sky’s, like someone caressing a secret. And then he opened them. Opened himself. Sky’s mouth parted instantly, as if it had been waiting for him forever, and the kiss deepened immediately, carnal and impossibly tender at the same time.
There was no rush, but neither was there patience.
It was a need they already knew, one that had lived in glances, in grazing touches, in silences far too long to bear.

Nani’s hands reached for Sky’s hair, tangled into it with purpose, fingers threading through like he meant to hold him there, anchor him, keep him from vanishing.
Sky’s hands, instead, traveled over his belly, holding him close, tracing his abs and his hips as if memorizing every single inch.

Their bodies pressed together, recognized one another, adjusted. There was no space left between them: every gap was filled with skin, with warmth, with presence.

Their breaths wove into a slow dance. One inhaled where the other exhaled. One mouth filled what the other left behind. It was a perfect balance, born of instinct, of a hunger that only exists when too much tenderness has been held back for too long.

Five minutes: where everything else disappeared: the studio lights, the coaches’ voices, the pressure, the dates, the uncertain future. Even the past. Even the fears.

There was nothing beyond that kiss. Only the certainty of being there. For each other.

When they pulled apart, it was slow, like emerging from a dream you don’t want to leave.
Their lips parted reluctantly, their breath still tangled together. And their noses, inevitably, brushed again, in that silly, tender, ridiculously sweet gesture that resembled an Eskimo kiss, but that for them meant: I’m not done touching you, but I can wait.

Nani closed his eyes for a moment. He did it with his forehead still resting against Sky’s cheek, like someone falling asleep inside a promise.
When he opened them again, there was only a smile.

Silent.
Comfortable.
New.

A smile that didn’t ask for anything. That didn’t demand. That didn’t explain.

Sky returned it, not with a burst, but with that half-smile, the one that made the dimple appear in his cheek, the one Nani now reached for with a finger, because he could, and claimed it, gently, sweetly, with a soft caress.

Sky was still holding him close, his chest pressed to Nani’s back, his arms wrapped around him with strength and gentleness, like a refuge built to fit. The silence in the room was dense, but not heavy. It was full, of breath, of heartbeats, of words waiting to be born.

Then, with his lips brushing Nani’s ear, Sky spoke.

“Whatever the future holds for us, Nani…” he murmured, his voice velvety, vibrant.

“Let’s walk through it together. Let’s grow together.”

Nani’s heart tightened. His breath slowed. He stayed still, listening, as if every syllable might slide beneath his skin.

“I want to see you become the man you dream of being” Sky continued, “and I want to be proud of you. I want to be there when you need me. I want to be there to make you laugh, to remind you to eat when you’re too anxious. I want to massage your temples every time you have a headache…”

Nani closed his eyes. Sky’s hands were still wrapped around his waist, and he felt them like both an anchor and a caress.

“…and I want you to be the only man who rubs my shoulders, who holds me close, who looks at me the way only you do… even when you’re too embarrassed to hold my gaze.”

A shiver ran down Nani’s back, light but deep. It wasn’t just the warmth of Sky’s voice on his skin, it was the feeling of being chosen. Seen. Accepted.

“I want to see you buy every pink thing your eyes land on” Sky added, smiling through his words, “and fill this house with useless little objects that describe the sweetness of your personality better than any words ever could.”

Nani felt something inside him break and bloom at the same time. As if Sky had just completed him, filled him, stitched up all the places he hadn’t even realized he’d torn open.

Nani didn’t know what to say. Words felt too small to hold everything he was feeling. He simply lowered his hands, and with movements uncertain but steady, he touched both of Sky’s, still clasped around his stomach. He brushed them the way one gives thanks, the way one makes a promise.

Then, in a voice frayed by emotion, he said:

“I think I’m in love with you, Sky…”

Sky gave his side a light pinch, making him gasp with surprise.

“Hey…you think? After everything I just said?”

Nani chuckled, sniffling, resting the back of his head against Sky’s neck.

“I’m not… used to saying it out loud.”

Then he did.

With a heart pounding too fast. With a trembling voice. But he said it.

“I love you, Sky. I want to grow up with you… me too.”

Sky closed his eyes. And smiled against Nani’s skin, placing a slow kiss beneath his ear. Then another, on his cheek. And one more, just below his hairline.

“That’s better” he whispered. “Now I’ve got everything.”

If you were mine I'd never let anyone hurt you

I wanna dry those tears, kiss those lips

It's all that I've been thinking about

'Cause a light came on when I heard that song

And I want you to sing it again