Work Text:
When Dunk was nine years old, his little brother Phuwin had just turned six.
At that age, Pond and Dunk’s group was inseparable. They rode bikes through the neighborhood, scraped their knees at the basketball court, and planned “secret missions” to the corner store for candy. They called themselves the “big boys,” puffing their chests proudly whenever they said it.
And then there was Phuwin. Tiny, wide-eyed, and glued to Dunk’s side like a shadow.
“Can I come too?” Phuwin asked the first time Dunk grabbed his basketball. His voice was squeaky, almost shy.
“Phu, it’s too far.” Dunk began, but when Phuwin’s lip trembled, he sighed and ruffled his little brother’s hair. “Okay. But stay close to me.”
And stay close he did. Phuwin trailed after the boys on his stubby legs, tripping over cracks in the pavement, panting to keep up. But every time he stumbled, Dunk scooped him up without complaint.
“He’s so cute,” one of the boys laughed when Phuwin’s too-big cap slid over his eyes. “Yeah,” Pond admitted with a grin, reaching out to tug the cap back into place. “Like a baby duck.”
Phuwin beamed at the praise, clutching Dunk’s hand tightly.
At six, Phuwin was just that; the little duckling of the group. Too small, too sweet, and too easy to spoil. Everyone found it adorable. Even Pond.
Back then.
Time, as it does, changed things.
By the time Dunk and Pond were fifteen, the group wanted to do cooler things. Sneak into R-rated movies. Tell dirty jokes. Play rougher games of basketball without worrying about stepping on someone.
But Phuwin, now twelve was still a constant. Still glued to Dunk’s side, still asking in that earnest voice, Can I come too?
Dunk, too sweet for his own good, always said yes.
“He doesn’t have any friends his age,” Dunk explained once when Pond groaned about it. “He likes being with us.”
“Yeah, but we can’t do anything fun,” Pond argued. “He’s literally just… a kid.”
Phuwin, to his credit, was trying. He learned the rules of their card games. He fetched water bottles during basketball matches. Cheered and clapped loudly for their team.
And Pond? Pond’s patience thinned.
Week after week, Phuwin sat cross-legged on the basketball court with them, chirping in with his too-high voice. He was spoiled, doted on by Dunk, and Pond noticed with irritation; completely comfortable being treated like royalty. If Phuwin whined that he was thirsty, Dunk sprinted to the corner store. If Phuwin yawned, the group adjusted their plans so he could keep up. Pond started calling him “princess” just to knock him down a peg.
“Careful, Princess, you’ll chip your nails if you play ball,” Pond sneered once when Phuwin hesitated before catching a rough pass.
Tee snorted so hard he almost tripped on his own feet. “Damn, Pond, give him a break.”
“Don’t call me that,” Phuwin snapped, cheeks red. “I’m not a girl!”
“You like being spoiled like one,” Pond shot back, smirking.
Phuwin shot him a glare, cheeks flaming. “Shut up, Pond.”
“Don’t talk to your elders like that,” Pond teased, leaning on his knees with a smirk.
“You’re not my elder, you’re just… old,” Phuwin snapped back, which earned a round of laughter from everyone.
And that was how it always went: Pond baiting, Phuwin snapping back, the others chuckling, Dunk shaking his head. Their bickering became part of the group’s soundtrack, like cicadas buzzing in the summer heat.
By the time Pond and Dunk turned eighteen, Phuwin was fifteen.
He was no longer the chubby little boy who used to trail after them everywhere. Now, he’d grown taller, his frame slim and graceful, carrying himself with an easy confidence. His hair framed a youthful yet handsome face, clear skin, expressive dark eyes, prominent nose, and a soft smile that somehow made him look older than his years without losing his boyish charm.
“Your brother looks like he plays the younger version of the lead actor in a Korean drama,” Perth had teased Dunk once, half in jest, half in awe. “No wonder Pond calls him Princess.”
The nickname had started as a joke years ago, born from Phuwin’s habit of pouting whenever he didn’t get his way and Dunk’s tendency to indulge him no matter what. But now, it lingered like a thorn between them, half-endearment, half-insult. Phuwin hated it, though mostly because it came from Pond.
Their group of friends Dunk, Pond, Perth, and Tee were now in their final year of high school. Loud, inseparable, and perpetually up to something, they were a package deal. And somehow, despite every complaint Pond had ever voiced, Phuwin remained a permanent part of that package.
The only times the group ever got to hang out without him were during school trips that were divided by year level or on the occasional Boy Scout camp, where Phuwin wasn’t allowed to tag along. Other than that, he was practically glued to them, an ever-present shadow of mischief and energy.
Still, Pond’s annoyance had sharpened over time, though he couldn’t quite explain why.
There was something infuriating about it, the way Phuwin carried himself with unintentional charm, how he smiled too easily, how he had Dunk wrapped around his finger. Phuwin had become the kind of person who could waltz into any room and immediately draw attention, whether he meant to or not.
And Dunk, ever the doting brother, spoiled him more than ever. If Phuwin so much as sighed, Dunk was there handing over his jacket, buying him snacks, giving him rides, even defending him from Pond’s teasing.
“Let him be, Pond,” Dunk would say whenever Pond complained. “He’s still a kid.”
But that was the problem; Phuwin didn’t look like a kid anymore. Not to Pond, anyway.
He still remembered the little boy who used to trip over his own feet trying to keep up with them, who clung to Dunk’s arm like it was a lifeline. But that image didn’t match the young man who stood before him now, smirking, self-assured, and infuriatingly impossible to ignore.
“God, can’t your brother ever stay home?” Pond muttered one afternoon, watching Phuwin wave cheerfully at the group as he approached their table.
Dunk chuckled, half exasperated, half proud. “He just likes hanging out with us. You’re the one he annoys the most, though. Shouldn’t that be an honor?”
Pond shot him a glare. “Yeah, a real privilege.”
When Phuwin reached them, he dropped into the empty seat beside Pond like he owned it, chin propped on his hand, eyes glinting with mischief.
“Missed me, P’Pond?” he teased.
Pond didn’t even look up. “Like a toothache.”
The others snickered, Dunk hiding his smile behind his drink. Phuwin just grinned wider, unbothered. To everyone else, it was their usual routine, snark and sass, harmless as ever. But for Pond, it was getting harder to pretend it didn’t rattle him every single time.
When the boys finally graduated high school, it was Phuwin who was the most emotional. He clung to Dunk’s arm, whining about how much he’d miss hanging out with everyone.
“You’ll still see me every day at home, Phu,” Dunk said, laughing as he patted his brother’s head.
“It’s not the same!” Phuwin complained, eyes wide and pout in full force.
Their friends snickered, promising halfheartedly that their usual Saturday hangouts would continue “if we’re not too busy.” The teasing only earned another dramatic pout from Phuwin.
Pond just watched quietly, unable to explain the twist in his chest.
College would be busy and overwhelming, and for the first time in years, it would just be them, no Phuwin tagging along, no bright eyes following him around. He didn’t know whether that thought made him relieved… or strangely sad.
University life came fast, loud, and relentless.
At nineteen, the boys Pond, Dunk, Perth, and Tee had somehow all ended up at the same local university, though in different majors. After much halfhearted debate and zero real planning, Pond and Dunk both landed in Biomedical Engineering.
“It just sounded cool,” Dunk admitted with a grin.
Pond laughed and nodded along, though secretly, he had no idea what he’d gotten himself into.
Between lectures, labs, endless assignments, and part-time job, Pond’s schedule was a mess. Still, no matter how chaotic things got, the old gang never quite let go of their tradition. Every Saturday, they gathered at Dunk’s house with the same snacks, same teasing, same laughter.
And, of course, Phuwin was always there.
He’d sit cross-legged on the couch or perched on the armrest, listening intently as they shared university stories, eyes wide with fascination. Every time Pond tried to brush him off, Phuwin would shoot back with something smug or playful, a quip that never failed to make the rest of the group laugh.
If anything, university life had made Phuwin even clingier.
The Saturday hangouts were no longer enough to satisfy him.
He’d barge into Dunk’s room midweek, flop dramatically onto his brother’s bed, and complain through a muffled voice pressed into a pillow. “I barely see you guys anymore,” he’d grumble. “You’ve all moved on and left me behind.”
Dunk would just laugh, tossing him a pack of chips. “We’re in college, Phu. That’s how life works.”
“I don’t care,” Phuwin would shoot back, sitting up to glare at him. “You’re still my brother. And Pond still owes me a rematch at basketball. And Tee and Perth promised we’d watch that movie together, none of you can escape me.”
And honestly? None of them even tried to.
Whenever their schedules allowed once or twice a week after class they’d make it happen. Sometimes they met at the old basketball court, the one tucked behind the park with the cracked pavement and the flickering lamppost that hummed softly at night. Other times they’d grab snacks at the nearby mall, bubble tea in hand, teasing each other like no time had passed at all.
Dunk never had to insist; everyone showed up willingly. Tee and Perth often joked that they missed Phuwin too much to say no. Pond, though, stayed quiet pretending it was just convenience that brought him there, not the way his chest felt lighter every time Phuwin waved at them from across the court, grin wide, eyes bright.
That unspoken rhythm became their routine: no matter how busy or tired they were, the boys always found time for Phuwin not just on Saturdays, but whenever they could.
The boys had just finished their final exams, marking the official end of their second year of university. It had been long, grueling, and painfully sleepless and Pond wanted nothing more than to collapse in bed and not move for a week. The last thing he needed was more noise, more chatter, more people. He’d planned to skip their usual Saturday hangout altogether. He was drained, burned out, and honestly didn’t trust himself not to snap at anyone.
But Dunk, of course, had other plans.
“Phuwin’s been nagging me all week,” Dunk sighed, cornering him after class. “He said you have to come. Apparently, game night isn’t fun without you.”
Pond groaned. “That’s not true,” he muttered but his voice softened, betraying him. He remembered the last two Saturdays when he’d missed their hangout to cover a coworker’s shift.
“Tell that to him,” Dunk said, with a teasing tone. “He’s been moping about it since Tuesday.”
That alone was enough to make Pond cave, though he’d deny it if asked.
And that’s how he found himself at Dunk’s house again, sitting at the same table, surrounded by laughter, cards, and Phuwin’s nonstop commentary.
Phuwin sat across from him, chin propped on his hand, that teasing grin ever-present. Every few turns, he’d lean close, too close whispering dramatic “advice” or mock-complaints about cheating. His knee brushed Pond’s under the table, light and casual, but it sent a sharp pulse through him that he masked quickly with a scowl.
He was tired.
From school. From work.
And from feeling… whatever this was.
So when Phuwin laughed again, bright, careless, leaning in like he always did, something in Pond finally cracked.
“Don’t you have any other friends?” he snapped, the words spilling out before he could stop them.
The room went still. Even the sound of shuffling cards froze midair.
Phuwin blinked, startled. “What?”
“You heard me.” Pond’s voice was tight, clipped. “Everyone’s moved on, Phuwin. You could be hanging out with people your age, but instead you keep tagging along like, like you don’t have a life outside of us.”
“Pond,” Dunk warned softly, a quiet edge in his voice. But Pond didn’t stop.
Phuwin’s reply came soft, almost confused. “But… you’re my friends.”
“Friends?” Pond barked out a short, bitter laugh. “We’re not your friends, Phuwin. We tolerate you because you’re Dunk’s little brother.”
The words hit like a slap.
Still, Pond went on. “We wouldn’t even be hanging out with you if it weren’t for him.”
The silence that followed was suffocating. One of the guys muttered, “Pond…” under his breath, but no one knew what else to say.
Phuwin stared at him, his mouth trembling, eyes glossy with disbelief and something else that Pond didn’t want to name.
“I… I see. I didn’t know you felt that way,” he whispered, voice trembling. His chest rose and fell, each breath heavy with the effort to stay composed.
“Phuwin, I…” Pond started, desperate, but the words tangled in his throat.
But Phuwin just shoved his chair back, the screech of metal against tile slicing through the quiet, and walked away. The slam of his bedroom door echoed through the house like a thunderclap.
Pond sat frozen, the weight of what he’d said crashing down too late. His chest hollowed out, the room spinning faintly around him.
Dunk’s glare came first, sharp, disappointed, cutting. “What the hell, Pond?”
Pond opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He didn’t even know what he’d meant to say. He hadn’t meant it, any of it but somehow the words had clawed their way out before he could stop them.
The others stared at him like he’d crossed a line that couldn’t be uncrossed. Maybe he had.
Pond dragged both hands over his face, throat tight. “I didn’t mean it,” he said hoarsely, but no one replied.
Dunk sighed long, tired and turned away. He walked down the hall toward Phuwin’s room. The door didn’t open.
From that night on, something shifted.
Phuwin stopped showing up. He stopped joining their Saturday hangouts, always with some excuse Dunk would quietly relay. “He’s meeting his other friends,” or, “He’s got a school project.”
Other friends.
Pond didn’t even know Phuwin had other friends.
And yet, somehow, it made sense. Why would Phuwin keep coming around after what Pond had said that night? The words still echoed in his head, sharp and cruel: “We’re not your friends, Phuwin. We tolerate you because you’re Dunk’s little brother.”
He’d tried to take them back a hundred times, in a hundred ways. He sent memes. Texted him. Typed and deleted apologies so many times the chat history was just an endless graveyard of unsent messages. Everything stayed on seen.
Once, he tried to visit Dunk on a Wednesday, just to “drop by.” But every time Phuwin was somehow gone. “He’s got a dentist appointment today” Dunk would say, or, “He’s got somewhere to be.” There was always something keeping Phuwin away.
Still, Pond kept trying. Waiting outside Phuwin’s cram school, hanging around the park’s basketball court, hoping he’d show up again like before hair messy, grin easy, teasing him about missing a shot. But the court stayed empty, and the laughter never came back.
Dunk, ever gentle, would pat his shoulder and say, “Don’t worry. He’ll come around. Just… give him space, okay?”
And Pond did. Or at least, he told himself he did.
Because life had a way of moving on, even when you weren’t ready to. School and work picked up. Dunk and Pond were drowning in lab work. Tee, studying Biology, was constantly out of town for field research. Perth, taking up Information Technology, had his hands full with late-night coding marathons and projects that left him too exhausted to even reply in their group chat.
Their Saturday hangouts once a weekly ritual slowly faded into memory. The card table gathered dust, the group chat grew quieter, and the laughter that used to fill Dunk’s living room became something Pond only replayed in his head.
Without Phuwin’s bright voice insisting, “Looking forward to this Saturday’s rematch!” it was as if none of them remembered how to anymore.
Pond tried not to let it bother him.
This was what he wanted, wasn’t it? Less chaos. More quiet.
Just the four of them.
But somehow, it all felt wrong. Empty. Like the silence had swallowed something important something he couldn’t name.
Days folded into weeks, then quietly into something longer.
The group carried on, new routines, new faces, the same laughter, just a little emptier somehow. Pond got used to it. Or at least, he told himself he did. Classes, work, exhaustion… they all blurred together, until the sharp edges of that night dulled into something that only hurt when he let himself remember.
Then one late afternoon, on his way home from his part-time job, Pond slowed to a stop at the edge of the park and froze.
There he was.
Standing on the old basketball court they used to play on. The cracked pavement, the single flickering lamppost, the faded blue benches where they’d lounged after games everything was just as it used to be. Too familiar. Too much like a memory he’d tried to bury.
Phuwin, now eighteen, stood by there, a basketball tucked under one arm, hair longer, skin glowing under the fading light. He’d grown leaner, taller and there was something quieter in the way he carried himself now. Gone was the loud boy with the silly grin and quick temper. In his place stood someone calmer, surer, breathtakingly gorgeous and with every feature sharper. It had been so long since Pond had seen him that the sight stole his breath. His mind went completely blank, his heart hammering in his chest. He could do nothing but stare, utterly stunned by how impossibly striking Phuwin had become.
Because it hit him all at once, and all too late, just how much he’d missed him.
Not just the teasing or the arguments or the Saturday nights. But him.
His voice. His energy. His presence. The way he made everything even the smallest moments feel alive.
And in that quiet, heart-punching moment, Pond realized something he should have known years ago:
He didn’t just miss Phuwin.
He liked him.
No, he’d been in love with him, all this time. It was the kind of realization that felt cinematic like the slow pull of a camera zooming in, sound fading, the whole world falling away until there was only one face left in focus.
Phuwin’s.
And Pond, finally, understanding what his heart had been trying to tell him all along.
“Hey, stranger.”
The voice was light, teasing, but when Pond turned, the smirk on Phuwin’s lips didn’t quite reach his eyes. There was something gentler there, something cautious.
Pond’s chest tightened instantly. “You’re here,” he said, stupidly because the sight of him after so long was almost too much.
Phuwin tilted his head. “You sound surprised. Thought I’d been banned or something.” The words carried a smile, but the softness underneath made Pond’s throat ache.
“You disappeared on me,” Pond managed, voice low, hurt.
Phuwin’s gaze flickered away, settling on the cracked pavement. “Maybe I got tired of forcing myself where I’m not wanted.” He said it quietly, almost casually, but somehow it cut deeper than any accusation could.
“Phuwin…” Pond murmured, stepping closer, desperate to catch his eyes.
Phuwin looked up, weariness softening his features. The sight of him so close, after so long stole Pond’s words entirely. They stood face to face, but in that silence, it felt like oceans stretched between them.
“I’m really sorry. The words I said, I didn’t mean them and I regret them every single day.” Pond said, the words trembling out of him.
Phuwin’s lips curved faintly, guarded but not unkind. “It’s okay. It doesn’t matter anymore. That was a long time ago.”
But Pond shook his head. “It does matter. I missed you. I missed you so much.”
Something in Phuwin’s expression faltered, just a flicker.
“No. You’ve always hated me,” he said quietly. “You’ve always made me feel like I don’t belong.”
Pond’s chest twisted. “I don’t hate you. I’ve never hated you.”
“Then why?” Phuwin whispered, the break in his voice cutting through the air. “Why treat me like I’m a joke? Why call me princess? Why push me away if you didn’t hate me?”
“Because I was dumb and stupid and a jerk and I shouldn’t have said those things to you, but I was overwhelmed and confused and I...” Pond’s words tumbled out in a rush, raw and unguarded.
“Tell me something I don’t know,” Phuwin murmured gently, his eyes glassy but voice carrying a mix of teasing and quiet longing.
“I like you.” Pond said without preamble.
Phuwin froze. The basketball slipped from his hands, hitting the cracked pavement with a dull thud.
“Y–You… like me?”
“Yes,” Pond whispered, the words trembling out of him. “More than I should have. More than I realized. I thought if I was cruel enough, if I pushed you away, if I acted like I didn’t care it would stop me. But it never did. It only got worse. You’re Dunk’s little brother, and you were so young, and I…” he exhaled shakily “I didn’t know how to look at you like that. Not that way.”
“P’Pond.”
The sound of his name, soft and unsure, nearly undid him.
“You like me,” Phuwin said, his voice unsteady, like he didn’t dare believe it.
“Yes,” Pond said again, barely breathing. “A lot.”
Phuwin let out a choked laugh through the tears glinting in his eyes. “You idiot,” he whispered. “I liked you too. Even when you called me Princess.”
Pond blinked, caught between a laugh and a gasp. “What?”
“I liked you since I knew what liking someone meant,” Phuwin said, voice low, honest, cheeks flushed. “And yeah, you were a jerk. But I never stopped hoping.”
Something inside Pond cracked open, years of guilt, longing, and restraint spilling free. “I always liked you,” he confessed, raw and trembling. “I was just scared. Of losing you. Of losing Dunk. Of losing everything.”
Phuwin stepped closer, the air between them tightening like a held breath. “I’m eighteen now,” he murmured, eyes locked on Pond’s.
Pond blinked, stunned. “Yeah?”
Phuwin’s lips curved, small, dangerous, heartbreakingly beautiful. “Have I grown up enough for you?”
The world seemed to tilt. Pond could smell the faint sweetness of Phuwin’s cologne, feel the warmth radiating off his skin. Every inch of space between them felt electric, impossible.
“Dunk’s going to kill me,” Pond muttered, voice barely a breath.
Phuwin’s gaze dropped to his mouth, then back up again, his whisper ghosting against Pond’s lips. “Yeah?”
Pond’s throat tightened, the word catching before he finally let it fall. “Yeah…”
And then Pond kissed him.
It wasn’t soft or hesitant. It was hungry. Messy. Desperate.
Years of unsaid words and swallowed feelings crashing all at once.
He kissed him like he’d been starving and finally found what he needed to breathe again.
Phuwin made a small, broken sound against his lips. Half a gasp, half a laugh before kissing him back just as fiercely, fingers clutching at Pond’s shirt like he was afraid he’d disappear. Pond’s hand slid to the back of Phuwin’s neck, pulling him closer, and everything blurred, the world, the air, the noise, until there was only this. Only him.
When they finally pulled apart, breathless, Pond rested his forehead against Phuwin’s. The world had gone utterly still, save for the shared rhythm of their uneven breaths.
“I can’t believe I waited this long to kiss you,” Pond whispered, breathless but smiling. “You have no idea how hard it’s been, princess.”
Phuwin’s lips curved, flushed and swollen, the nickname carrying an entirely new weight now. “Jerk,” he whispered back, though his eyes were shining like he’d been waiting just as long.
Pond laughed softly and kissed him again.
They stayed that way for a while, tangled somewhere between relief and disbelief, until Phuwin let out a quiet laugh, muffled against Pond’s chest.
“You know,” he murmured, “if this were a drama, this would be the part where my brother walks in.”
Pond froze. “…Don’t jinx it.”
But fate, of course, loved irony.
“Phu? Pond?”
They sprang apart like guilty teenagers caught red-handed. Dunk stood at the edge of the court, a grocery bag dangling from one hand, his expression unreadable.
For a long, unbearable moment, the only sounds were the rustle of leaves and Pond’s heart hammering in his chest.
Dunk sighed, setting the bag down with exaggerated care.
“P’Dunk, I can explain…” Phuwin began, voice pitching higher than usual.
“Don’t bother,” Dunk cut in, holding up a hand and failing to hide the smile tugging at his lips.
“Took you two long enough.”
Pond blinked. “You… knew?”
Dunk shrugged. “I suspected. The way you two used to bicker? It was practically foreplay.”
“P’Dunk!” Phuwin groaned, face going crimson.
Dunk just laughed, strolling closer. “Relax, I’m not mad. Just, please don’t make me regret telling you to talk to him again.”
Pond let out a shaky breath, shoulders finally easing. “You’re really okay with this?”
Dunk’s gaze softened as he looked between them. “If Phu’s happy, then I’m okay. Just… don’t hurt him again, alright?”
Pond nodded, his throat tight. “I won’t.”
Dunk studied him for a moment longer, then smirked, the warmth returning to his tone. “Good.” He reached over and ruffled Phuwin’s hair. “Damn, Phu… your lips are bright red. Someone’s been busy.”
“P’Dunk!” Phuwin yelped, covering his mouth as Dunk burst out laughing, heading for the exit.
Pond’s ears burned, his hands curling into fists at his sides but despite the embarrassment, he couldn’t stop smiling.
“I can’t believe he took that so well.” Phuwin turned to Pond, still pink but smiling.
Pond grinned. “Guess we’re luckier than most.”
Phuwin hummed, stepping closer again until their fingers brushed. “So what now?”
Pond tilted his head, pretending to think. “Well… first, I’m never calling you Princess again.”
“Good,” Phuwin said though the tiny pout that followed betrayed him.
Pond smirked. “Unless you want me to.”
Phuwin huffed, swatting at him, but Pond caught his hand easily twining their fingers.
The group’s Saturday hangouts had always been loud; snacks everywhere, half-played card games, Tee yelling about losing again but today felt a little different. Because Pond and Phuwin were sitting way too close. Pond’s hand was lazily resting on the back of Phuwin’s chair, his thumb tracing soft circles against Phuwin’s shoulder while Phuwin leaned in, whispering something that made Pond grin like an idiot. No one said anything for a full minute.
Then Tee groaned dramatically from the other end of the couch. “Can you two not flirt for five minutes? Some of us are trying to concentrate.”
“Concentrate on losing,” Perth shot back, earning a pillow to the face.
Phuwin only rolled his eyes, cheeks pink but smile steady. Pond didn’t even bother pretending, he just slung his arm fully around Phuwin now, pulling him close like it was the most natural thing in the world.
“Too late,” he said, smirking. “You’ll just have to get used to it.”
Across the table, Dunk was quiet for once. He caught Phuwin’s eye and smiled, soft, proud, like he’d known this was coming all along. Phuwin smiled back, small and shy, but happy.
When the teasing finally faded into laughter, Pond leaned in and murmured something only Phuwin could hear. Whatever it was made Phuwin laugh the sound bright and warm and Pond looked like he’d just won the lottery.
And now, whenever Pond dared to call him Princess, Phuwin would roll his eyes and mutter, “Jerk,” but the fond smile tugging at his lips gave him away. He’d drape himself over Pond without a care, leaning into his side with exaggerated affection, and Pond would just grin, completely smitten. The rest of the group groaned, half exasperated, half delighted. Tee clapped dramatically, Perth whistled, and Dunk just shook his head fondly, muttering under his breath, “I created this monster.”
~fin