Work Text:
The low hum of jazz blended with the clink of ice in expensive glasses. The rooftop bar glittered with city lights; Bangkok stretched below them like an endless constellation. Pond Naravit leaned back on the leather booth, sleeves rolled up, his watch catching the glow of the neon sign that read “Bar None.”
It had been a long day at the office. Meetings. Contracts. Handshakes and smiles that didn’t quite reach his eyes. He was a CEO now, but some things never changed; like how Joong and Perth still insisted on meeting for “a drink or ten” every Friday night.
Joong raised his glass with a lazy grin. “To surviving another week of capitalism.”
“Barely,” Perth muttered, knocking his own glass against Joong’s. Then his eyes flicked to Pond, who was half-listening, half-scrolling through his phone. “And to our dear Naravit, who somehow made it through life, love, and merger negotiations without losing a single hair.”
“Without losing his title too,” Joong added slyly. “Once a playboy, always oh wait, no. Former playboy. Retired legend.”
Pond chuckled, setting his drink down. “Retired, yes. Legend, you said it, not me.”
“God, remember college?” Perth leaned back, eyes glazing in nostalgia. “Those were the days. The three of us? The Holy Trinity of the Business Faculty.”
“More like the unholy trinity,” Joong snorted.
Pond smirked at the memory. Back then, their names carried weight and not the corporate kind. Joong Archen. Perth Tanapon. Pond Naravit. Three rich, handsome, athletic heirs who practically ruled the campus. Students whispered their names with awe (and exasperation). Professors tolerated them. And half the university population… well, would have gladly followed them anywhere.
“Remember when that one girl from Fine Arts fainted just because Pond smiled at her?” Joong teased.
Perth laughed. “Bro, that wasn’t even the first time. He’d go through partners like wardrobe changes. You never dated the same person twice.”
“Correction,” Pond said smoothly, “I didn’t date at all. Dating implies effort.”
They roared in laughter, but Pond only smiled faintly. Beneath that smirk lay a truth: back then, he really hadn’t felt anything.
Sex was easy. Lust was predictable. Love? A concept from sappy movies.
He’d never understood why people made such a fuss over it.
He remembered the thrill, the chase, the attention, the whispers of “Pond Naravit looked at me!” as if his gaze was currency. Every fling ended the same way: smiles, thanks, and polite detachment.
No heartbreak. No guilt. Just satisfaction.
Until him.
It was a Tuesday when Phuwin arrived.
Second semester of their third year.
The university courtyard was buzzing with fresh faces, and Pond was halfway through flirting with a marketing major when he saw him. Sunlight catching in his brown hair, soft eyes focused on his phone completely oblivious to the chaos around him.
Phuwin looked… different. Not flashy. Not like the students who lingered around their clique hoping to catch attention. He wore a simple white shirt and jeans. There was something calm, unbothered, real.
And for the first time, Pond forgot his line.
Joong elbowed him. “Who’s that? New kid?”
“Transfer,” Perth said, already checking his phone. “From Chiangmai, I think. Mass Comm.”
“Cute,” Joong remarked. “Go on, Pond. Bet you can make him blush in under two minutes.”
Challenge accepted, Pond thought.
He approached with that trademark grin, the one that made hearts race and leaned casually on the bench beside him. “You look lost. Want me to give you a tour? Comes with free coffee and my number. My name’s…”
No thanks,” Phuwin cut in without even glancing up from his phone. “I have Google Maps.
Pond blinked. “Google Maps can’t show you the best spots on campus.”
“I’m sure it can. Technology’s advanced these days.”
That was the first time anyone had ever shut him down so neatly.
And it wouldn’t be the last.
“Wait, wait, wait,” Joong said between wheezes of laughter later that night. “He rejected you before you even said your name?”
“Bro didn’t even let him say the P in Pond!” Perth added. “That’s a record!”
Pond threw a pillow at them, but it only made them laugh harder.
“Okay, okay,” Joong said, grinning. “Real talk. You’re not actually gonna chase him, are you? This is you we’re talking about.”
Pond crossed my arms. “Maybe I am.”
Silence.
Then, identical looks of horror.
“Oh no,” Perth whispered. “He’s serious.”
Joong groaned. “We’ve lost him.”
Over the next few weeks, Pond proved them right.
He tried everything. Every classic move in the book, and a few he probably invented himself.
He flashed his most practiced smile every time they crossed paths, the one that had previously earned him free bubble tea, extra notes, and occasionally a phone number.
Phuwin’s reaction? A polite nod. Sometimes a blink. Once, an unamused “You have something in your teeth.”
Then came the grand gestures.
He once showed up outside the Mass Comm building holding a cup of iced coffee. “Just for you.” he declared proudly.
Phuwin peered at the cup. “I prefer tea, thanks.”
Still not giving up, Pond went for the accidental run-ins.
He “coincidentally” bumped into Phuwin after class three days in a row.
The third time, Phuwin gave him a long look and said, “If you’re going to stalk me, at least be better at it.”
“I’m not stalking,” Pond protested. “I’m just… destiny-ing.”
“That’s not a word,” Phuwin replied, brushing past him.
“It could be!” Pond called after him.
There was also the helper act.
One afternoon, Pond insisted on carrying Phuwin’s bag.
“Come on, just let me,” he said, already reaching for the strap.
“I can carry it myself,” Phuwin replied flatly, tugging it back.
“But what kind of gentleman would I be if I didn’t…”
A loud rrrrip! echoed between them.
Both of them froze. Pond looked down. The handle of Phuwin’s bag dangled pathetically in his hand like a broken promise.
Phuwin’s expression went from disbelief to murderous calm in three seconds flat.
“…You tore it.”
“I… I can fix it?” Pond offered weakly.
“With what, your charm?”
Phuwin snatched the bag, glaring. “Just stop following me!” he snapped, turning on his heel and storming off.
Pond stood there in the middle of the hallway, holding the torn handle, speechless.
Joong and Perth found it hilarious.
“So basically,” Joong said, “you’ve become a golden retriever with a trust fund.”
Perth nodded. “Does he at least pat your head for effort?”
“Maybe he’s immune,” Joong said. “A rare case.”
“Or maybe you lost your touch,” Perth teased.
Pond scowled. “Watch me. He’ll fall in love.”
But secretly, he was terrified. Because for the first time, he was the one falling.
Phuwin had a story, though Pond only learned it in pieces. He worked part-time at a café and sometimes skipped lunch to make deadlines. He’d left Chiangmai University after clashing with his family over his major.
“Political Science,” Phuwin said once, tone flat. “That’s what they wanted. I wanted to tell stories. Make things.”
“You did the right thing,” Pond said softly.
Phuwin shrugged. “Maybe. But freedom’s expensive.”
He was practical, grounded, and entirely uninterested in superficial things, the complete opposite of Pond.
Which, of course, only made Pond want him more.
“Wow,” Joong said one evening, watching Pond stare at his phone like a lovesick idiot. “You’re whipped and you’re not even dating.”
Pond glared. “I’m serious this time.”
Perth nearly choked on his drink. “You? Serious? About a person?”
But he was.
Every part of him wanted to prove to Phuwin that he wasn’t the shallow guy people thought he was.
He stopped seeing anyone else. Stopped flirting at parties. Skipped “boys’ nights” to bring Phuwin home after his shift. Brought dinner to Phuwin’s work. Helped him carry equipment, just showing up every single day.
Phuwin would sigh. “You’re really not giving up, huh?”
“Not unless you tell me to my face that I have zero chance,” Pond grinned.
Phuwin tilted his head. “You might, if you keep bringing the wrong drink.”
“…I can learn.”
And slowly, almost imperceptibly, the walls began to crack.
Phuwin had started to laugh more. Talked more. Looked at Pond with something softer than indifference. Pond was convinced he was finally getting somewhere with Phuwin.
Then, one afternoon, he ruined everything.
He was hanging around a food stall near campus, pretending to text while waiting for Phuwin when a girl from his department, one of his old flings, spotted him. She leaned close, giggling, her hand brushing his arm as she said something Pond didn’t even hear.
He was about to politely excuse himself when he saw it.
Across the street, Phuwin stood still, watching.
For one brief second, their eyes met. Phuwin didn’t frown or glare. He just smiled, small, polite, unsurprised before turning away.
Pond’s stomach dropped so fast it could’ve gone straight through the pavement. He muttered a rushed apology to the girl and bolted, heart pounding as he chased after him.
“Phuwin!” he called, breathless when he finally caught up near the intersection. “Wait hey, it’s not what you think.”
Phuwin turned calmly, that little smile still there. “What do I think, Pond?”
“I…I wasn’t, she just came up to me, I didn’t…”
He tilted his head slightly, tone gentle but edged. “Why are you apologizing? It’s normal for people who like each other to flirt, isn’t it?”
And then he smiled wider, not cruel, just distant and said softly, “I’ll see you around, Pond.”
He left before Pond could even find words.
Pond stood there like an idiot, traffic lights blinking behind him, the sound of cars and his own heartbeat blurring together. He exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down his face.
“Nice one, Naravit,” he muttered under his breath. “You’ve just speed ran your way back to square one.”
That night, he didn’t go out drinking. He just lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, thinking about the way Phuwin had smiled before walking away. It wasn’t cold, it was resigned.
He didn’t hate Pond. He just didn’t believe him.
So Pond changed his approach.
No more grand gestures. No more fake “coincidences.” He started showing up in quieter ways, the kind that didn’t demand attention but lingered anyway.
When Phuwin missed a lecture because he’d fallen asleep in the library again, Pond would quietly drop off a cup of hot tea and a pack of bread beside him; no note, no name, just there when he woke up. When it rained, Pond somehow always appeared out of nowhere with an umbrella, holding it over both of them like it was the most natural thing in the world, even if it meant walking him halfway across campus in the opposite direction of his own class.
He’d stopped insisting on carrying Phuwin’s bag after the incident. Now, he just watched quietly, waiting for the right moment. When he saw Phuwin dragging his feet after a long day, Pond would wordlessly take the bag from him, and to his delight, Phuwin didn’t fight him anymore. Sometimes he’d just sigh, too tired to argue, and let him.
And when Phuwin complained that he didn’t need a chauffeur, Pond would only shrug, smile, and say, “Good thing I’m not one. I’m just a friend making sure you get home safe.”
Phuwin sometimes still ignored him; walking ahead without a word, pretending not to notice the extra cup of drink in Pond’s hand and yet Pond never stopped showing up. He’d still fall into step beside him, still carry the umbrella a little too close, still offer a quiet “good night” at the dorm gates like a promise he didn’t know how to quit keeping.And though Phuwin rolled his eyes every single time, he never told Pond to stop.
In fact, Pond noticed more and more that Phuwin had started slowing his pace just enough for him to catch up.
Sometimes he talked about his part-time jobs, his long days, his stubborn tea addiction.
And every time he did, Pond listened like it was the first time someone’s voice ever made him feel something real.
Weeks passed. Then months.
One afternoon, just before final exams, Pond found him outside the Mass Comm building, sitting under a tree.
“Hey,” Pond said, trying to sound casual though his heart was racing.
Phuwin looked up from his notes. “You again.”
“Me again,” Pond grinned. “Dinner?”
Phuwin sighed, but there was a smile tugging at his lips. “Fine. One dinner. But if you pull anything, I’m leaving.”
Pond blinked. “Anything like…?”
“Like being you.”
Pond laughed, pure and giddy. “Deal.”
And that’s how it started, a single dinner that turned into two, then three, until one night, as they walked home under the yellow streetlights, Pond found himself rambling about his group project and his lazy group mates. Phuwin laughed softly, and that sound hit Pond harder than any adrenaline rush he’d ever felt.
When they reached Phuwin’s dorm, he stopped and turned to face him.
“Pond.”
Pond blinked. “Hm?”
Before he could say anything else, Phuwin leaned forward and pressed his lips against his; soft, hesitant, but sure enough to stop Pond’s heart entirely.
When Phuwin pulled back, his cheeks were pink, but his tone carried a familiar teasing lilt.
“I guess this means yes,” he said, lips quirking. “But don’t get cocky. Don’t break my heart and make sure I’m the only one, got it? No side quests.”
Pond’s breath caught, then he smiled wide, helpless, and so full of emotion it almost hurt.
“Promise,” he whispered.
And then he kissed him again slower this time, careful, terrified, and happy all at once.
Back at the bar.
The clock on the wall ticked past 8:24 PM, and Pond’s friends noticed it before he did.
Perth set his glass down with a smirk. “And there it is. The time warp.”
Joong snickered. “He’s about to morph into a responsible, domesticated husband in three, two…”
“I have to go now, guys.” Pond rose, straightening his suit jacket.
“Called it,” Joong said, raising his glass in mock salute.
Perth leaned back. “You’re impossible. Every week, same thing. What’s he gonna do, lock the door if you’re late?”
Pond only smiled, but his fingers twitched toward his car keys. “Something like that.”
The truth was far more dangerous.
And it started years ago with a single sentence from Phuwin.
Flashback ~ Their apartment, a year after graduation.
Phuwin was leaning against the kitchen counter, wearing Pond’s oversized shirt, the one that always made his heart lurch. He was sipping tea, looking innocent as ever, while Pond scrolled through work messages.
“Now that we’re living together,” Phuwin said casually, “I should tell you something.”
Pond looked up. “Hmm?”
Phuwin’s voice dropped to a whisper, slow and deliberate.
“I’ll make love every night at nine. On the dot.”
Pond froze. “What?”
Phuwin sipped his tea, expression calm. “You heard me. Nine o’clock. I don’t care if you’re home or not that’s my schedule.”
“Phuwin!” Pond nearly choked. “You’re joking, right?”
Phuwin only smiled, set the cup down, and leaned close enough for his breath to tickle Pond’s ear.
“Be late, and you’ll find out.”
Pond was left speechless, blushing, and absolutely terrified not of Phuwin, but of the mental image that followed.
From that day on, 9PM became sacred.
No meetings, no parties, no golf nights with the boys. Only Phuwin.
Once, he came home five minutes late because of traffic. Five minutes. And yet his heart raced the entire elevator ride, replaying Phuwin’s words like a curse: I’ll make love every night at nine. On the dot.
By the time he unlocked the door, he was nearly breathless. The lights were warm, the apartment quiet…too quiet. He glanced around, scanning the living room like a man on a mission: the couch, empty. The kitchen, spotless. No extra shoes by the door. No mysterious “substitute” waiting in the corner.
Of course, he knew there wouldn’t be. Phuwin wasn’t that kind of person. But still, he just wanted to be sure. Because he was whipped, hopelessly, pathetically whipped.
Phuwin looked up from the couch, eyebrow raised, a teasing smile tugging at his lips. “Checking for intruders again?”
Pond straightened, cheeks red. “Just… making sure everything’s in order.”
Phuwin’s grin widened as he patted the seat beside him. “Good. Then come here, baby. You’re right on time.”
Back to present.
Pond barely had the car in park before he was out the door, heart racing. By the time he reached the elevator of their penthouse, it was 8:57 PM and he was jabbing the button like a man possessed.
The doors closed with agonizing slowness.
Come on. Come on.
By 8:59, he was unlocking their door.
Inside, the living room glowed warm and quiet. Phuwin was sprawled on the couch, wearing soft pajamas, phone in hand, scrolling lazily through a recipe video.
He didn’t even look up when he heard the frantic footsteps.
“You’re early,” Phuwin said, lips curving. “I thought I’d have to start without you.”
“Don’t…” Pond gasped, breathless, tie half-undone. “Don’t even joke about that.”
Phuwin finally looked up those same gorgeous eyes that once refused to even glance his way now filled with playful amusement. “Still paranoid?”
“Yes,” Pond said honestly, collapsing beside him. “Because I know you’d do it just to mess with me.”
Phuwin chuckled, leaning against him. “Well, I’m not heartless. I waited.”
“Barely,” Pond muttered, checking the clock. It blinked 9:00 PM. He groaned. “One minute later and I’d have died on the spot.”
“Mm. I was this close to lighting candles.”
Pond glared, but Phuwin’s laughter melted any trace of irritation.
Years later, he was still the same, effortlessly stunning, sharp-tongued, and the only person on earth who could reduce a former playboy into a nervous wreck.
Later, when they were tangled together under the sheets, Phuwin traced his fingers along Pond’s chest, smirking.
“You know,” he murmured, “you were a nightmare in college.”
“I was confident,” Pond corrected.
“You were insufferable.”
Pond chuckled, catching his hand and kissing it. “But you still married me.”
Phuwin’s gaze softened. “Because you never gave up. And because you proved you’re more than what people said you were.”
“Still don’t know how I got this lucky,” Pond admitted quietly.
Phuwin smiled, eyes half-lidded. “By showing up. Every day. Even when I told you to go away.”
They fell into silence the kind that only long years of love could bring. Outside, the city hummed. Inside, Pond held the only person who had ever made him want to change.
The next weekend — back at the bar.
Joong was mid-story when his phone buzzed. He glanced at the time. “Oh look, 8:25. Guess who’s about to run?”
Pond downed the last of his drink. “I have to go now, guys. Next round’s on me.”
Perth shook his head. “Still whipped.”
Joong sighed dramatically. “Phuwin must have installed an invisible leash.”
Pond grinned, grabbing his coat. “Call it whatever you want. I just call it motivation.”
As he walked away, their laughter followed him, but Pond only smiled wider.
Because somewhere at home, someone was waiting.
And love, real love was worth racing the clock for.
~fin