Work Text:
Now Playing: Everything has Changed
‘Loving Mewnich is like…’
June Wanwimol stared at the words she typed. It was past 10 PM. She knew that she should be sleeping by then. After all, she had a gym appointment early the next morning. And there’s no way she wouldn’t attend.
She had already skipped a schedule or two because of uni. Skipping another was such a waste of membership, and she was definitely not the type of person to waste money. Besides, there was this dessert she’d been dying to try lately. Every time she thought about it, her mouth watered. She unconsciously nodded to herself: she would do everything to burn the calories of that pretty sweet thing.
Or if not that, there were surely a couple of productive things she could do while staying up late. Maybe she could scan her assigned reading materials, re-organize her notes, or if not the latter, maybe just try to read whatever she could understand from her…bond paper.
June did not use notebooks. Lawful chaos was her way to education.
To be fair, that’s what she tried to do. Well, not quite sure if she was about to open her PDF or look for the scanned bond papers that she archived, but June Wanwimol opened her laptop.
She opened a browser.
Then, to set the mood, she opened her Spotify playlist. Nothing new. She clicked on NCT’s hype playlist. She ended up vibing to the nth loop of Taeyong’s Tap. It took her about thirty minutes to realize that, you know what, she wasn’t getting anything done.
So, she switched to something mellow and sentimental. Now that was better. She managed to read a chapter. Add another column of notes…somewhere…in her bond paper. She highlighted the new addition with a pastel purple highlighter.
The highlighter came in a cute design and sticker freebies.
This definitely had nothing to do with her Mewnich Nannaphas.
Speaking of cute designs, she tried to remember where in the world she had placed those freebies. This was definitely something she could do some other time, but her brain was extremely fixated on the search. Like peacefully lying on your own bed and suddenly wondering where in the world your birth certificate is. It was like an itch you cannot quite scratch.
June realized, looking back at it, that the highlighter she bought was overpriced. And if she had been “scammed” by the cute design, there’s no way that she’d just lose it. She stood from her swivel chair and looked everywhere in her unit. And yes, for some reason, that included her fridge. Just in case.
It took her an hour to find the sticker freebies. They were tucked in between pages of a self-help book.
Between pages of a book that June bought willingly.
For some reason that she wouldn’t admit out loud.
After all, June thought that sometimes, even she herself could be capable of doing things that she wouldn’t do under fair, stable weather. And these little things did not need anyone’s validation or applause.
Anyway, these are a lot of words to say that June bought the self-help book one rainy weather when Mewnich was preoccupied with the same title during their café trips. And she thought: what’s so interesting about it?
And another, much simpler reason, was that she wanted to relate to Mewnich just a little bit more.
Mewnich liked self-help books. And June, let’s just say that she preferred doing other activities aside from reading. It was enough that she had modules and scripts to scan and memorize. Honestly, she had forgotten that she bought it in the first place.
Although, she finished the audiobook version of Mewnich’s fixation.
A proud smirk found its way on her lips. Yes, she’d definitely bring this up to Mewnich when their forsaken schedules finally aligned once again. June could imagine the surprised look on her Nong’s face.
Oh, you know about it too, P’June? In her cute voice.
And then June, with her smugness plastered on her face, would say: Of course, you mentioned it once.
That was to imply to her work wife that: Yes, Mewnich, you only have to say it once and I’ll remember it.
Because, you see, June Wanwimol was competitive by nature and she was still at a loss for words with how Mewnich remembered how she liked her chocolates. That Mewnich took literal notes about what she liked so that one day she could surprise June.
Of course, this was just how Mewnich was. June knew that Mewnich didn’t do that to get something in return.
But still! June declared indignantly to…herself.
June was someone who was always competing with herself.
It was something that Mewnich found adorable. And inspiring. It worked well because despite her calm, grounded, and reserved nature, Mewnich always wanted to be more. To be better. Mewnich had the gentle ways of getting things done and ticking her own boxes.
Like June, Mewnich was not someone who looked away from the words ambition and dreams. They were both relentless pursuers and their own biggest critics.
Not that they would admit it out loud. But, you see, one night when Mewnich stayed over at her place for a sleepover, she said something along the lines of:
Even my doubts trust you, P’June.
And she scooted a little closer until June’s senses were filled with the scent of shampoo that she did not use. Until she remembered the little height difference they had when she saw the crown of Mewnich’s head.
I hope you don’t mind me depending on you.
Perhaps it was the way June felt unsure, how the same words she wanted to say fell from different lips.
Damn it, Mewnich keeps stealing my words, June thought rather fondly.
Now, with this justified confidence (because, hello, Mewnich wants herrrr, duuuuhhh) and master plan in mind (June does not have a plan, she just has a goal: recap, to awe Mewnich), she messaged Mewnich.
But like she usually did, she went for a segue. After all, June was a woman too, she wanted to play hard-to-get. Instead of professing her yearning to see Mewnich and catch up with her, June told, no, whined, about her overpriced purple highlighter.
She told Mewnich about how hard her search effort was, blah blah, and that she finally found the freebie stuck in between the pages of a book. And because Mewnich knew her too well, the younger sent a meme questioning the existence of the book in June’s life.
“You and a book, Phi?”
“I hate you.”
Mewnich laughed. Or at least that’s how June read the former’s 555555555. And just like that, June wished she had just called Mewnich instead.
Or maybe a video call? June could already imagine the younger one doing her skincare. Mewnich would surely have her facial mask on by then.
June chuckled at the thought. Fortunately, Mewnich did not pry about what book it was. That would spoil June’s surprise (aka lowkey opportunity to be praised by Mewnich).
Then she asked if Mewnich was free to meet up with her.
Mewnich said that she was still busy with The Dark Dice activities. She suggested other dates, but unfortunately, they coincided with June’s Dare You to Death schedule.
June rolled her eyes at the circumstances. As if we’re a couple in a long-distance relationship. Jesus.
At least she wasn’t on a call with Mewnich. June was sure she couldn’t hide the tantrums in her voice. You could practically hear her pouting and whining.
Because this was just a message, she could simply say: See you some other time then, mornor. I’ll sleep now. Good ni—
“Oh shit!” June exclaimed.
Mewnich was video calling her. She panicked so hard she almost dropped her phone. Scratch that. It dropped on her toe.
“Ahhhh!” June yelped, hopping on one foot like a deranged kangaroo. She grabbed the edge of her desk for balance, but that didn’t stop her from jumping up and down in pain.
“Shit, shit, shit—ow, ow, ow!” she hissed through clenched teeth, glaring at the innocent-looking phone on the floor as if it had personally betrayed her.
Her toe throbbed, and she was this close to declaring war against gravity itself when she noticed the screen still flashing with Mewnich’s incoming video call.
Great. Just great. Now she had to decide: answer immediately and risk looking disheveled, or limp dramatically to the couch and pretend nothing happened?
It rang thrice before Mewnich dropped the call. June sighed in relief. The younger one must have thought that June was busy with something else. Knowing Mewnich, ever so respectful, she wouldn’t attempt to call again.
Except that she did.
June grimaced. Was Mewnich feeling clingy today too, like her?
She stared at the screen as it buzzed insistently, her injured toe still pulsing in protest. “You little menace,” June muttered, half to her phone, half to herself.
Her thumb hovered above the answer button. If she picked up now, she’d have to mask both the pain in her toe and the ridiculous grin tugging at her lips.
But then again, ignoring Mewnich twice in a row? What a heinous heinous crime! Gasps!.
So, she answered, and she smiled instantly, seeing how shaky Mewnich’s camera was, like her nong was trying to put the phone on a stand, but it kept slipping. The internet was bad too, the picture stuttering every few seconds.
But amidst this little chaos, June chuckled because she was right. Mewnich was doing her skincare routine.
A white sheet mask clung unevenly to her face, making her look like some adorable, soggy ghost. Mewnich squinted at the screen, adjusting the angle again. “Can you see me, Phi?” she asked, her voice muffled by the mask.
June bit back a laugh. “Unfortunately, yes.”
Mewnich gasped, eyes wide beneath the mask. “You’re so mean!”
June smirked, leaning closer to her screen. “What? I’m just being honest. You look like the budget version of a GMM horror movie extra.”
Mewnich pouted, or at least June assumed that was a pout. The mask wrinkled around her mouth like a crumpled piece of paper.
And God help her, June’s heart nearly exploded right then and there. Because how dare she look this cute while literally wearing a piece of wet tissue on her face? Who gave her the right?
June chuckled again, trying to bury the fondness under layers of sarcasm. “Seriously, nong, you’re a mess. Shaky camera, laggy internet…and your mask…”
Mewnich, completely unfazed by June’s teasing, started rambling about how good the product was. She waved the packaging at the camera like she was hosting a livestream. “No, Phi, listen! This brand is sooo good. It has hyaluronic acid and, wait, let me read it, something-something complex. My skin feels like mochi after, I swear!”
June giggled, covering her mouth. It was like watching a beauty influencer who had no subscribers but the universe still decided she deserved her own channel anyway.
And then the laughter softened into something warmer. Because really, June knew she was one of the very few people who got to see Mewnich like this: rambling, unfiltered, yapping about sheet masks like they were the cure to all the world’s problems.
The world didn’t know about this Mewnich. To everyone else, she was the dependable one, the mother-friend who made sure no one skipped meals, the serious worker who rarely broke focus, the quiet presence who conserved her energy and slipped into power naps the second a set went on break.
And June couldn’t help but feel stupidly, selfishly lucky that she got to see this hidden side, the side no audience or colleague ever would.
Out of nowhere, Mewnich tilted her head and said, “Oh! I also bought some for you, Phi. I’ll bring them when we finally see each other, okay?”
June blinked, her heart somersaulting.
But Mewnich wasn’t done. She launched into another round of chatter, explaining how she’d been trying to decide which mask suited June’s skin better. “I thought maybe the brightening one, but then the soothing one is also good. You get red sometimes, Phi, like here—” she gestured vaguely at her own cheeks, “—so I thought maybe calming would be better…”
“Yada yada,” June muttered under her breath, though her face was burning.
Mewnich wanted to see her. That was enough to make her cheeks glow.
“Anyway, back to your stickers, P’June…”
“No, it’s nothing, really.” but then her resolve faded away when the younger used her baby-voice.
“Fine, fine,” June muttered. She reached over and grabbed the infamous pastel purple highlighter, holding it up to the camera like she was presenting evidence in court. “Look. I admit, the color’s nice. But the quality? Not giving. Hella overpriced too. I should sue.”
Mewnich giggled at her rant, which only encouraged June to go on. “And then there’s this,” she added, fishing out the little sticker sheet that had caused all the trouble. She flashed it at the camera dramatically.
But the moment she saw it again, June froze.
Her rant trailed off because—oh, God.
The design.
Bunny stickers surrounded by way too many purple hearts.
Very Mewnich-coded.
Intensely, severely, tragically Mewnich Nannaphas-coded.
June felt her chest tighten as the realization hit: she had been scammed, not by the stationery shop, but by her own subconscious devotion to Mewnich Nannaphas.
Mewnich, who had gone quiet, tilted her head at the screen. Her eyes softened as she asked in a much gentler tone, “What about the stickers, Phi?”
June could shrug it off. At the back of her mind, she felt like Mewnich already knew but the moment June shoved it away, out of the topic, Mewnich wouldn’t force it either.
Because that’s how Mewnich is.
And that’s exactly why it would be a crime to shrug it off.
Now that June realized it was her stupid little crush on Mewnich that made her buy the damned stickers, it wasn’t something she wanted to sweep under the carpet.
Someone like Mewnich Nannaphas, together with the confusing, delicate, and warm… whatever this thing between them was, deserved to be tucked under blankets with a soft kiss on the forehead.
A good night.
A wish of sweet dreams.
Not yet I love you’s.
Maybe too soon? Maybe too uncertain? Maybe it was the certainty of having the right person but not knowing if it was the right time?
Because Mewnich Nannaphas felt like a safety vest on a sinking cruise ship but June didn’t have the courage to jump yet. Sure. But still, she pulled the straps tighter.
With me, Mewnich.
Mewnich leaned closer to the camera, her face filling June’s screen, and a selfish part of June wished Mewnich would just fall right through it and land on her lap.
“Come on,” Mewnich teased with a knowing little grin. “I want to know what made you buy so impulsively.”
June swallowed. “Well, I… I like the design.” Then, a little more confident this time: “It reminds me of you…”
Her eyes darted everywhere but the screen. And when she finally looked back, Mewnich’s mask was off, her cheeks dusted pink. June wished, hoped, that she affected Mewnich just as much as Mewnich affected her.
Slowly, keeping her gaze locked on June, Mewnich reached up and pulled her ponytail loose. For June, time slowed. Ironic, really, two women, equally feminine, yet the moment felt charged, magnetic, sensual.
Mewnich bit her lower lip lightly as she slipped the hair tie onto her wrist.
June blushed harder. That was their hair tie. The one they bought together. Their “kinda-matchy, kinda-coupley, no-pressure, take-our-time” item.
June remembered the day they bought it.
It was during that phase where it felt like everyone and their mothers were buying those red strings. Actors, idols, random influencers, even her aunt’s manicurist. And of course, their fans were waiting, practically salivating, for them to get matching ones too.
June could admit it now: she did think about it. A lot. More than she cared to.
But every time she imagined herself standing next to Mewnich with those red strings on their wrists, something felt… wrong. But also not wrong. Like she was stepping into something she didn’t fully understand yet.
It took weeks for her to reflect on it. Late-night overthinking, the whole dramatic internal monologue package and even longer to gather the courage to bring it up to Mewnich.
Because honestly? It felt like the dumbest conflict imaginable. Who overthinks bracelets?
June Wanwimol, apparently.
But when she finally brought it up, awkwardly, hesitantly, like she was confessing to some crime, Mewnich just nodded thoughtfully, like she always does, and said something so painfully reasonable that it annoyed her.
Mewnich suggested that maybe the red strings felt “too coupley.”
Which was ridiculous because, technically, in Thai tradition, they weren’t exclusively for couples. Anyone could wear them. Friends, siblings, groups, whatever.
Still, Mewnich said it gently, almost apologetically.
“Maybe you’d want to save that for your future lover, P’June.”
June stiffened like someone had dunked her into ice water. Because the idea of Mewnich or her, wearing a red string with someone else, some faceless “future” person, made something in her curl up like a salted slug.
She looked uncomfortable. They both did. Which was weird.
After all, they were just a ship. A popular ship, yes, but still a ship. One day they’d move on with their lives, with their careers, with their future significant others.
June understood that.
She agreed with that.
She believed in that.
Or thought she did.
But then it slipped out, completely bypassing her brain’s filtration system:
“Mornor, why do I want to have it with you, though…”
Silence.
A beat.
Two.
Mewnich blinked, caught off guard. Then she smiled, soft and knowing.
“Maybe,” she suggested gently, “you’re not really after the red string, Phi. Maybe you just want a matchy item with me.”
Then they saw hair ties sold in pairs.
To be honest, they weren’t attention-getting. Not even close. The display had dozens of options, some glittery, some silky, some bedazzled enough to blind a small child. But the pair they chose? Simple. Soft. Muted. Easy to miss unless you were looking for them.
And maybe that was the point.
Mewnich picked them up first, turning them over in her hands. “These are nice,” she said. “They’re not too flashy.”
June shrugged. “I mean… they’re hair ties, Nong.”
But then Mewnich smiled at her, small, almost shy, and said, “I think they suit us.”
June blinked. “Us?”
Mewnich nodded. “Yeah. I’m like a hair tie.”
Something in June jolted, and she joked automatically to hide it: “Why? You want to pull my hair or something—”
And that was precisely the moment her brain betrayed her.
Because the unexpected, very explicit image that flashed across her mind nearly made her choke on her own saliva.
June coughed, hard, turning bright red as she tried to wave Mewnich off. “I—I mean—NOT LIKE THAT—”
Mewnich froze, eyes wide, cheeks turning a delicate shade of pink that June wanted to bottle. They stared at each other for one painfully hilarious second, both imagining the same damned thing, and then Mewnich, bless her heart, decided to pretend she was absolutely above such thoughts.
She cleared her throat and continued gently, voice softer now:
She lifted the softer-colored tie, “I meant… I don’t like standing out. I like blending in. I don’t want to be pressuring.”
She rolled the hair tie between her fingers. “But I do want to be someone who makes your life easier. Even just a little.”
June’s breath caught.
“And you always tie your hair up when you work,” Mewnich added. “When you study. When you’re busy.” Her eyes flicked briefly to June’s long hair, the way it framed her face when loose. “Sometimes you push it behind your ears, and sometimes it falls again…”
Mewnich shrugged, suddenly shy. “A hair tie would help. And with your long hair and your feminine outfits…well…it just fits. It’s something that would naturally be part of you.”
Then, quietly:
“And I… I wanted that,” She looked down at the hair ties in her hands, “To be something that naturally belongs in your life.”
June didn’t know what to do with that.
With her heart pounding.
With the warmth blooming in her chest.
With how deeply, stupidly romantic such a simple sentence felt.
So she just nodded, pretending her entire existence hadn’t shifted two inches to the left.
They bought the hair ties.
One each.
Matching but not loudly so.
Coupley but deniable.
Soft but intentional.
The perfect in-between.
The perfect almost.
“I saw you wore it in some photos…” June said softly after ger quick trip to the memory lane.
“Yeah,” Mewnich smiled. “I saw you wore it too.”
They both giggled, their faces equally warm.
“We must look stupid right now,” June whispered, breath catching.
“If this is stupid,” Mewnich replied gently, “I’d love to wear it with you for a very long time.”
Then, almost shyly, she added, “P’June, I tend to like things that remind me of you. I find them immediately comforting. And because of that… a lot of things in life feel softer. Kinder.”
“You stole my words again, Nannaphas,” June huffed, though her lips curved into a grin. “What’s next? My breath away?”
What about my last name? she thought. You can take that too.
Thankfully, her brain had the decency to keep that one inside.
On screen, Mewnich blinked slowly and gently, like June had just handed her a handful of butterflies.
Her voice is teasing but warm. “I mean… if you want me to. I’d love to.”
June almost malfunctioned.
Her heart did that annoying flip, the one she kept pretending she didn’t feel, as if her chest weren’t already embarrassingly transparent every time Mewnich smiled at her like that.
“You…ugh…don’t say things like that.” June pointed at her, accusing but helplessly endeared. “You’re going to make me…”
She trailed off because finishing that sentence felt like jumping head-first into emotional traffic.
Mewnich let out a soft laugh. “Make you what, Phi?”
June scowled at the camera as if it were personally attacking her. “Shut up.”
But Mewnich was glowing now, pink cheeks, hair down, wrist lifted casually so June could see the matching hair tie as if she knew exactly what she was doing to her.
“I like it when you get flustered,” Mewnich murmured. “It makes me feel like…maybe I’m not the only one.”
June’s inhale stuttered.
She looked at Mewnich. the delicate blush, the softened eyes, the way she fidgeted with her hair tie like the memory of buying it together still warmed her hands.
And June thought, not for the first time: God, if she keeps talking like this, I’m going to fall in love with her out loud.
But all she said was, “You’re impossible.”
Mewnich smiled, sweet and devastating, “You like me anyway.”