Chapter Text
Tokyo, July 2025 Jane posts a mirror selfie at Sanrio Puroland.Oversized Hello Kitty hairpin clipped on the left, soft beige filter, caption “found my childhood again 💕”. Three days later, Kao uploads a film-camera shot from the exact same spot, same hairpin on the left side, caption “some things never get old💕📸 ”.
Paris, August 2025 Kao sees a vintage green Citroën parked under an arch of white roses. Twenty-four hours later, Jane posts herself kneeling in front of the same roses, same angle, same sunlight.
Bangkok, September 2025 Jane wears a plain white oversized shirt to a magazine shoot,there’s a tiny coffee smudge on the left chest pocket that barely shows. Exactly seven days later, Kao posts an IG story, she’s holding the camera high, showing her own white shirt with an identical smudge, Britney Spears’ “Oops!... I Did It Again” playing in the background.
One week after that, Vogue Thailand x luxury brand fashion event at Siam Paragon. Jane sneaks into the marble bathroom, takes a quick mirror selfie, and posts it on Twitter with nothing but 🧸🤎. Forty minutes later, Kao stories the exact same mirror, same lighting, same pose, caption 🧸🤍.
In South Korea, this would be a full-blown dating reveal. Thailand loses its collective mind anyway. #KaoJane trends for twelve straight days.
Dispatch-style threads appear on Pantip. TikTok editors slow down every Kao laugh and every Jane smile and stitch them together like they were filmed in the same room. Someone calculates that their zodiac moons are 4 degrees apart. Someone else writes 10k words of enemies-to-lovers fanfiction in one night.
SIZZY practice room, 23:14, somewhere in Sukhumvit, Bangkok.
Fluorescent lights too bright, mirrors fogged from eight straight hours of choreography.
“Gosh, I’m so hungry I could eat a whole bowl of noodles…” Jan, the leader, groans, stretching on the floor until her spine cracks like bubble wrap.
“Same, and also I’m so exhausted I could pass out right here on this couch,” Ciize adds, diving face-first into the couch with zero grace. The girls just finished their sixth run of the killing part for the new title track. Everyone’s shirts are basically see-through from sweat. “I want the biggest bowl of Phad Kee Mao…” Jane announces, walking over and flopping directly on top of Ciize.
“Hey!” Ciize protests, voice muffled under Jane’s entire body weight. Jane ignores her, wraps her arms and legs around her like a koala, and buries her face in the crook of Ciize’s neck. “FINE!” Ciize sighs theatrically but doesn’t push her off. “Aye, order for us,” Jan says, already scrolling on her phone.
“Excuse me, why me? I ordered last time and the time before that and the-”
“Because,” Jane lifts her head just enough to point at the human blanket situation happening on the couch, “do you see the human sculpture we are working on here?”
Aye looks at the half-dead pile of Jane and Ciize melting into the cushions, rolls her eyes so hard it’s audible, but still grabs her purse and heads for the door.
“Bring ice cream too!” Ciize yells, voice cracking because Jane’s elbow is digging into her ribs. Twenty minutes later, they’re all on the floor around the coffee table, demolishing boat noodles, moo ping, and mango sticky rice like it’s their last meal.
They were eating together, bringing chaos, as usual. Jane keeps stealing Ciize’s meatballs, Ciize keeps smacking Jane’s hand, Jan keeps scolding both of them while simultaneously trying to talk with a mouthful of noodles, Aye almost chokes twice.
“Btw Janeeeeeeeee,” Aye starts, then immediately starts coughing because she inhaled a chili. Jan pats her back hard enough to launch her soul.
Jane just smirks and keeps chewing. “Please, we talked about this, chew, swallow, then talk. It’s a pattern,” Jan says, biting her lip so she doesn’t laugh at Aye’s tomato-red face.
“I’m good,” Aye rasps, gulps water, eyes still watering. “You sure? You’re still kinda red,” Ciize teases. Aye reaches over and flicks Ciize’s forehead.
Ciize flops backward like she’s been shot. “Anyway-” Aye wipes her mouth, grabs her phone, scrolls for two seconds, then looks up with the most evil grin.
“You and your 'girlfriend' are still trending, Janeyeh.” She turns the screen.
It’s a Daradaily article:
“KaoJane Latest Clue: Same Mirror, Same Emoji, Same Heart Flutter?”
Below it, a collage of the bathroom selfies and about 300 crying emojis from commenters.
“Oh… not this again,” Jane mutters, slapping both hands over her face. The blush starts at her ears and races downward. Ciize props herself on her elbows, hair sticking out in every direction.
“They’re saying it’s been six months already. Six. Months. Jane, are you hiding a whole secret relationship from us?”
Jan leans over, fake-serious. “I wish my scandals were with pretty actresses. Why do I always get weird actors who can’t even act?” Jane throws a chopstick at her. It bounces off Jan’s forehead.
“It’s just stupid coincidences,” Jane says, voice climbing half an octave. “People will get over it in like, a week. They always do.” But her brain is screaming. Does P’Kao even know these threads exist? Has she seen the edits? Does she think it’s funny? Annoying? Or does she genuinely have zero idea who I am?
Ciize nudges Jane’s ankle with her foot. “You’ve been smiling at your phone like an idiot every time #KaoJane trends, don’t lie.” Jane kicks her back, cheeks burning hotter. “I do not.”
“You do not, right?” Jan raises an eyebrow. “Last night at 2 a.m., you liked a fan edit, with your burner profile, of you two set to ‘Dandelions’ by Ruth B. I saw the notification.”
Jane opens her mouth. Closes it. Opens it again. “That was… an accident.” Aye and Ciize burst out laughing.
Jan joins two seconds later. Jane hides her face in a cushion and screams into it. Under the laughter, under the teasing, under the late-night fluorescent lights and the smell of chili and fish sauce, Jane’s heart is doing something terrifying. It’s hoping.
And it’s only October. In six days, the biggest commercial shoot of the year is happening, with promotion of their second album, and she is so excited to step on the stage next year.
The day after, the aircon was softly humming, half-eaten snacks were plastered everywhere, and a fortress of pillows was put on the sofa. The girls are watching a drama on Netflix, the one with Kao as the lead.
Jane sits cross-legged on the floor, hugging a giant Rilakkuma plush like it’s a safety device.
On screen, Kao turns her head in slow-motion, wind machine doing a heroic amount of work. Her eyes glisten, and music swells around her, giving her a goddess-type of entrance.
Ciize whistles. “Oof. Jane, your 'wife' really snapped here.”
Jane nearly chokes on her popcorn. “She’s-she’s not. P’Kao is not-nobody’s wife! She’s just… a very talented actress.”
Aye grins, pointing at the screen. “Talented at stealing your heart, apparently.”
Jane pulls the plush higher until only her eyes are visible. “I admire her. Admire! Like everyone else on Earth! It’s normal.”
Jan clicks her tongue. “Honestly, what sucks is that all her partners on screen are men. She deserves better chemistry.”
Ciize nods aggressively. “Exactly! Imagine if her partner was like… someone cute, someone pretty, someone who posts Sanrio selfies and acts shy for no reason—”
“ANYWAY!” Jane blurts, too loudly. “This plot is crazy, right? Totally unrealistic. Who writes this stuff?”
Aye leans forward with predator eyes. “Oh? Now you care about the plot?”
Jane tugs at her collar, silently begging the universe to end this conversation.
And then the universe was on her side for once in this lifetime.
Ciize’s phone lights up.
She glances at the screen and instantly sits straighter. A small smile tugs at her lips.
Jane exhales like she’s been freed from prison.
“It’s P'Kapook?” Aye asks, even though the answer is obvious.
Ciize tries to appear casual, but fails miserably. “She just finished work… She’s nearby.”
Jan’s eyes soften. “You going to see her?”
“Was thinking about it,” Ciize mutters, chewing her lip. “But P’Thana is here tonight, and you know how he gets about, dating and relationships in general…”
P’Thana is SIZZY’s manager. He eats stress for breakfast and rules for dessert. He is very strict, but he loves them like they’re his annoying little sisters.
Jane raises a brow. “So you’re not going? That’s new.”
Ciize turns toward her with dramatic flair. “I am going. I just need help sneaking out.”
Aye immediately points to Jane. “Take her.”
Jane almost drops her plush. “Me?! Why me?!”
“Because,” Ciize says sweetly, “you’re tiny, fast, and P’Thana has a soft spot for you.”
“That’s not... he does not- HEY I am not tiny, I'm taller than you!”
Aye pats her on the head. “Sure, keep telling yourself that.”
“Also,” Jan adds, “every time there’s chaos, somehow you end up in the middle. So honestly, this feels inevitable.”
Jane glares at all of them. “This is sabotage.”
Ciize clasps her hands dramatically. “Please, Janeyeh. I want to see my girlfriend. We haven’t had real time together in days… Just this once?”
Jane takes a look at her. She really looks at her as if analyzing every cell in her eyes. Despite the teasing, the chaos, the rough training, Ciize’s eyes are soft. They are annoyingly yearning.
Jane sighs. “Fine. I’ll help.”
Ciize squeals and tackles her in a hug. “THANK YOU, MY HERO.”
“I regret this immediately.”
They grab hoodies, masks, and a plan that is absolutely destined to fail at least twice.
Aye turns off the TV. “Good luck, soldiers.”
Jan salutes. “If P’Thana catches you, I’ll claim complete innocence.”
Jane is already pulling her hood up. “This is the worst idea you’ve ever had.”
Ciize grins. “Oh Jane… You say that every time.”
And just like that, the two slip out of the living room on a mission to sneak Ciize into Kapook’s car without getting caught.
The hallway outside SIZZY’s apartment is suspiciously quiet. Too quiet.
Jane presses her back flat against the wall like she’s Tom Cruise in Mission Impossible, hoodie strings pulled so tight only her eyes peek out. Ciize mirrors her on the opposite side, except Ciize looks like someone who watched one spy movie, decided she was the main character, and immediately forgot how volume works.
“Okay,” Jane mouths more than whispers, “P’Thana is in his office checking tomorrow’s schedule. If we’re quiet-”
A door hinge somewhere down the corridor lets out the world’s loudest squeak.
Both of them freeze, their hearts already in their throats.
“It’s just the aircon settling,” Ciize breathes out, clutching her chest.
Jane swats her arm without looking. “Don’t breathe loudly!”
“You’re breathing loudly!”
“Shhh!”
They bicker in the harshest whispers known to mankind as they creep toward the elevator, socks sliding silently on the polished floor. Every overhead light feels like a spotlight. Every tiny criminal step, and every shadow looks like P’Thana’s disappointed silhouette.
Ciize suddenly halts mid-tiptoe, one foot still in the air. “Wait… are these socks too loud?”
Jane stares at her like she’s grown a second head. “How can socks be loud?”
“I don’t know! Stress makes everything louder! I swear they’re squeaking!”
Jane pinches the bridge of her nose. “You’re wearing cotton socks, Ciize. Cotton doesn’t squeak.”
The elevator lets out a cheerful DING that might as well be a fire alarm.
Both of them jump like they’ve been electrocuted.
“Abort-ABORT-use the stairs!” Jane hisses, yanking Ciize by the sleeve.
They sprint into the stairwell, nearly face-planting down the first flight. Jane grabs the cold metal railing to steady herself, Ciize grabs Jane like a terrified koala. Jane wants to scream, no, needs to scream, but instead she just drags them both downward, twelve whole floors of pure cardio punishment because apparently elevators are enemy territory tonight.
On the sixth floor, they’re already panting. And more and more, they got closer to the exit. Ciize was whispering, “I see the light,” like she was dying. Jane is ready to sell her soul for an extra hour of sleep.
When they finally burst through the ground-floor door, Ciize peeks around the corner like a meerkat on caffeine. The underground parking lot is dim and quiet, lit only by flickering orange streetlamps… except for one familiar white Toyota Camry idling beneath the farthest light, softest light, engine purring like it’s trying not to wake the world.
Kapook’s car.
The driver-side window slides down just enough. Kapook’s face appears, soft cardigan slipping off one shoulder, hair in a low, messy bun, eyes sparkling even in the dark. She looks like the human version of a warm hug and a cup of cocoa on a rainy day.
Ciize lights up like someone flipped a switch labeled “girlfriend.exe.”
“Go,” Jane whispers, shoving her forward. “Before P’Thana descends from the heavens with a rolled-up schedule and murders us both.”
They dart across the concrete like fugitives. Ciize yanks the back door open and dives in headfirst. Jane slides in right after, pulling the door shut with a soft click that still feels illegally loud.
The second the car is sealed, Ciize throws herself across the center console and into Kapook’s arms, peppering kisses over her cheeks, forehead, nose, jaw, everywhere soft and reachable. Kapook giggles, low and fond, trying to keep the car from rolling while cupping Ciize’s face like it’s something precious.
“Slow down, baby,” Kapook laughs, voice warm honey, “you’ll bruise me.”
Jane immediately twists to face the window, hand over her eyes. “I’m gonna throw up. Actually throw up. Warn a girl next time.”
Kapook, cheeks pink, reaches into the back seat without even looking. “I, um… brought these for you, love.” She hands Ciize a bouquet of pastel roses and a paper bag that smells like heaven, sweet sticky rice and grilled pork. Then she turns, offering Jane a small gold box tied with brown ribbon. “And this is for you, nong. Thank you for being our getaway driver.”
Jane takes the box, instantly softer. Inside are perfect little dark-chocolate truffles dusted with gold. “P’Kapook, you didn’t have to… thank you.”
“Isn't my girlfriend so nice, unlike someone,” Ciize teases, already nuzzling back into Kapook’s neck.
Jane makes the loudest fake gag noise in history. “Okay, I’m leaving before you two start eating each other’s faces. I have trauma.”
She pops the door open, slips out, and shuts it gently behind her.
“Text me when you get back safe!” Kapook calls, soft and worried.
“Don’t get caught, monkey!” Ciize adds, way too loud for a secret mission.
Jane waves without turning around, hoodie pulled tight, and starts the long climb back up the stairs because she’s not risking the elevator twice in one night.
On the Way Back, The night air is cool for once, the kind of late-October Bangkok breeze that almost feels like mercy. The city hums somewhere far below, neon bleeding into the sky. Jane’s sneakers echo softly on the concrete steps, chocolate box tucked safely in her pocket.
Between floors, she pulls out her phone, just to check if Ciize made it out of the district yet.
And of course, the algorithm knows. It always knows.
The first TikTok that loads is titled “Kao Supassara: the Nation’s Sweetheart 🎉” Slow-motion clip from the new drama, Kao turning under golden hour light, eyes shimmering like she’s personally offended the laws of physics. The edit cuts to the mirror selfie coincidence, then the rose garden in Paris, then Jane’s own white-shirt photo perfectly synced with Kao’s smudged-shirt story. The final frame was of both of them wearing the same limited-edition beige bucket hat from that tiny Chiang Mai brand, posted three hours apart.
Caption in big pastel letters: “Even the universe ships them 😭🤍”
Jane’s heart does one stupid little flip. Just once.
She pauses on the last frame, Kao’s gentle smile filling the entire screen.
She’s so beautiful… Jane thinks, slow and honest, and a little dizzy from twelve flights of stairs. She is admiring Kao as her idol, someone who shaped her teen years. And calling her beautiful was just… factual. Like admiring the moon and knowing you’ll never touch it, but it’s nice that it exists.
A tiny part of her feels weirdly proud, being half of a ship with a legend. The bigger part wants to yeet her phone into the Chao Phraya.
What does P’Kao even think about all this? Her mind went there again. Kao was not very social media active but now and then she will post a picture. A goddess worthy picture. But does she find the edits funny? Does her manager show her the funny ones, and they laugh together? Or does she see #KaoJane trend and think, “Who is this unknown person and why is the internet like this?”
Jane exhales, fogging the screen for a second.
Kao’s face is still there when it clears, glowing, radiant, unreal.
“…I’m going to die for sure,” Jane mutters, pushing sweaty hair off her forehead.
She finally reaches their floor, legs burning, lungs screaming, chocolate box slightly squashed but intact. The hallway is still quiet. P’Thana’s light is off. Which was a miracle.
Jane slips inside her room, kicks off her shoes, and face-plants onto the ruined pillow fortress. Her phone buzzes,
Ciize: made it to Kapook’s place, ❤ tell p’thana i died if he asks, love u bestie.
Jane smiles despite everything, types back a string of vomiting emojis, and then, because the algorithm is still winning, lets one more Kao edit play on silent.
Tomorrow, the countdown really starts. Two months until the comeback. Four days until the commercial shoot.
She pulls Rilakkuma over her face and groans into the soft brown fur.
The day of the commercial finally came. The commercial shoot itself dragged longer than expected many retakes, lighting fixes, and wardrobe adjustments, but by late afternoon, the four girls finally wrapped. Staff clapped, cameras were lowered, and someone shouted, “Perfect! Thank you, Sizzy!”
They barely had a moment to stretch their sore necks before they were ushered onto the small interview set beside the studio backdrop. A semicircle of pastel chairs, ring lights glaring like tiny suns, a cheerful MC waiting with cue cards.
As they settled down, the MC beamed.
“First of all, congratulations on your new campaign! And… congratulations on the teaser you dropped today. A new album? Coming soon?”
The girls exchanged proud grins.
Aye wiggled her eyebrows. “Yes, we’re working really hard. Please look forward to it, everyone.”
The MC clapped enthusiastically. “Now, something fans have been begging us to ask…”
The girls groaned in unison. They already knew where this was going.
“Relationship status!” the MC teased.
Ciize nearly choked on her water beside her. Aye fanned herself dramatically, and Jan wiped invisible sweat from her forehead.
Jane simply stared forward with that tired but resigned idol smile.
“We’re all single,” Aye announced. “Year of career focus, right girls?”
“Right,” they echoed.
The MC leaned closer, grinning. “Okay, okay. But just for fun, give us your ideal type. Just words. No one’s saying you actually like someone.”
Jane cursed internally. She didn't understand why Interviewers loved this question. Her heart thudded against her ribs, a familiar ache from the last time they'd been ambushed with something personal. She shifted in her seat, fingers twisting in the hem of her oversized tee.
The MC pointed at Ciize first.
Ciize tried to dodge. “Ah… I don’t know, someone… cute? And hardworking? And… um… someone who brings me snacks?”
The other girls burst out laughing.
Jane murmured, “That’s literally just P'Kap-”
Aye slapped a hand over her mouth.
Ciize’s ears turned tomato-red as she kicked Jane under the chair. “Shut up!”
The world heard “cute and hardworking,” but the girls heard, Kapook, Kapook, Kapook. Ciize's cheeks flushed deeper, her mind flashing to last night's stolen yen ta fo under the bridge, Kapook's hand warm in hers.
Next was Aye, “I like someone funny… someone who can deal with my chaos and energy.”
Jan chimed in: “I like someone confident, someone straightforward.”
Then the MC turned to Jane.
She straightened unconsciously, camera instincts kicking in. Her stomach flipped, not from nerves exactly, but from that quiet pull as if she said something it could be taken differently.
“I… honestly don’t really imagine myself in a relationship,” Jane admitted, voice calm. “But if I did… I’d want someone caring, a mature person. Someone who… understands my passion and could walk beside me.”
The MC nodded thoughtfully. “Someone dependable, then.”
“Yeah,” Jane replied simply.
It wasn’t specific, she didn't hint at anyone, and it was a safe, calm answer.
Or so she thought.
Later, when they were back at the Apartment
They had barely kicked off their shoes when Jan shouted from the couch.
“OH. MY. GOD. JANE.”
Jane froze. “What?”
Aye turned her phone screen around to show her open TikTok, and there was an edit, a split screen.
On the left: Jane saying, “someone caring, mature… someone who could walk beside me.”
On the right: Kao Supassara looking stunning in her latest drama, smiling softly, wrapping an arm protectively around a co-star.
The caption under the edit read: “Jane from Sizzy basically describing Kao??? HELLO???”
The comments were exploding.
“KAOJANE NATION RISE”
“Jane is down BAD, you can’t convince me otherwise.”
“This is the crossover we never expected???”
Jane felt her soul leave her body. Heat flooded her cheeks, her ears were ringing, like she'd just stepped off stage. She snatched for the phone, but Aye yanked it away, giggling.
“Oh my god-TURN IT OFF!” she shouted, reaching for the phone while Aye dodged her swings.
But she couldn't do anything as more edits and more clips were surfacing one after another, like a wave that was about to bring a tsunami. The ship name is trending again.
Ciize was wheezing. “Jane… I didn’t know your ideal type was literally Kao.”
“It’s NOT.” Jane’s ears were on fire. “I just said a normal answer! She’s just-she’s just a respected actress! A national treasure! I admire her! ADMIRE!” Her voice cracked a little, mind racing to that slow-motion clip from last night, Kao's eyes pulling her in like gravity.
Aye leaned in with a smirk. “So you admire her maturity, hm?”
Jane threw a pillow at her so hard that it knocked over a plushie.
Jan pulled up another edit. “Okay, but look at this one- the way your quote matches Kao’s aesthetic…”
Jane screamed into another pillow. “Please let the earth open up and swallow me.”
“Nope,” Aye said cheerfully. “KaoJane is trending again. This is too fun, we never had this fun with a rumor before.”
Jane wanted to quit the industry and become a farmer. At least chickens would appreciate her more than these 3. Her heart pounded, not just from embarrassment, but from that tiny, unwelcome flutter at seeing Kao's face synced so perfectly with her words. It was ridiculous to even think about it, but something warm spread through her chest anyway, making her bury her face deeper.
Three weeks had slipped by in a blur of relentless motion, the kind that left no room for lingering thoughts or idle daydreams. The KaoJane edits, those viral fan-made montages that had once flooded Jane's feeds with their insistent chemistry, had finally ebbed, no longer strangling her sanity with every notification ping.
Their schedules had swallowed everything whole again, grueling dance practices that left muscles aching and voices hoarse, concept meetings where ideas clashed like sparks in a forge, wardrobe fittings that pinched and prodded until perfection was achieved, and endless rehearsals that blurred the line between performance and exhaustion.
They'd barely touched down from Tokyo twelve hours ago, the jet lag still clinging to their bones like an unwelcome shadow, and all four members were running on nothing but caffeine-fueled determination and sheer stubbornness, the kind that idols wore like armor.
In the living room of their shared apartment, a cozy chaos of scattered scripts, half-empty takeout boxes, and the faint scent of vanilla candles burned too low, a full-scale war was unfolding over the Monopoly board. The game had started innocently enough, a desperate attempt to unwind, but now it teetered on the edge of chaos.
"YOU CHEATED, AYE!" Jane shouted, half-standing over the board like a dictator on the brink of declaring martial law, her eyes blazing with mock fury. Her hair, still tousled from the last night's flight, fell in rebellious strands across her face, and she pointed an accusatory finger at the offending property cards.
Aye gasped dramatically, clutching her chest as if Jane had struck a mortal blow. "I did NOT cheat! You're just salty because I own the entire right side of the board! Face it, your hotels are doomed!"
Jan, their fearless leader with her signature cat-like smile that hid a world of mischief, leaned back on the couch, legs crossed elegantly, watching the chaos unfold like it was premium entertainment. "Fight. Fight harder. I want to see blood. Or at least some tears. Make it interesting."
That was when the front door slammed open with the force of a dramatic entrance in one of their music videos. Ciize stumbled in, her hair a messy halo of wild curls, her face glowing with an excitement that lit up the room like stage lights. She clutched her purse as she'd just sprinted through three continents, eyes wide and breathless. She didn't even glance at the Monopoly warzone she just launched herself face-first into the sofa, burying her sigh into a throw pillow.
"AAAAH. Guys. My girlfriend..." she moaned dramatically, her voice muffled but laced with pure, unfiltered bliss.
Jan perked up instantly, her cat smile widening into something predatory. "Oh god. Here we go. The Kapook Monologue, Volume 47."
Ciize rolled over onto her back, pressing the back of her hand to her forehead like a Victorian heroine in the throes of passion. "Kapook is... too amazing. TOO. AMAZING. I mean, how does she do it? She's like a walking rom-com lead."
Jane groaned, slumping back into her seat with exaggerated defeat, the Monopoly board forgotten for the moment. "Please no. Not this monologue. My ears can't handle romance at 10 a.m. I've got enough emotional whiplash from rehearsals."
Ciize ignored her completely, waving her hands animatedly as if she were an Italian trying to explain a pasta recipe. "She surprised me again! AGAIN! I was supposed to deliver cookies to her during her shoot today, you remember the ones she posted about last week? Those adorable heart-shaped ones with the sprinkles? I wanted to give them to her first, be the one sweeping her off her feet for once."
Aye leaned forward, elbows on her knees, her eyes sparkling with mischievous delight. "Let me guess. You burned them? Or dropped them in the street? Spill the tea, Ciize, which one is it!"
"No," Ciize said flatly, though her lips twitched with self-deprecating humor. "I blew up my kitchen."
Jan literally stopped breathing, her stack of fake money that she started to count frozen. "You what?"
Ciize pointed vaguely toward the hallway, as if the evidence was waiting to be inspected. "Go look. The toaster is in the sink, it literally melted. The oven is still smoking like it's auditioning for a horror movie. I opened one cabinet and it just... fell off. Completely. Like, hinges and all."
Jane pinched the bridge of her nose, trying to ward off the headache she could feel building. She could picture it all too vividly, Ciize in her apron, flour dusting every surface, chaos reigning supreme. "You destroyed your new apartment trying to bake cookies for your girlfriend. Do you hear yourself? That's not romance..or it could be if she were a firefighter who would come save your one-week-old kitchen."
"But she always surprises me first!" Ciize whined, sitting up now, her eyes pleading for understanding. "She's two steps ahead every time! Last week, she showed up at my fitting with my favorite coffee and a handwritten note. How do I compete with that?"
Aye clapped her hands together, grinning like she had just won the lottery. "Romance goals! You two are like a fanfic come to life."
Jane made a gagging noise, exaggerated and theatrical, though a tiny part of her, buried deep under layers of cynicism, felt a pang of envy. "Please stop encouraging her. Next thing you know, she'll be setting off the fire alarms for a 'grand gesture.'"
Then Ciize suddenly sat up straighter, her eyes sparkling with a dangerous idea that made Jane's stomach drop. She turned her gaze directly on Jane, locking in like a heat-seeking missile.
"Jane."
"Don't you dare."
"Jane, please."
"No."
"Jane, deliver the cookies to Kapook for me."
Jane looked like someone had just asked her to run a marathon while juggling knives blindfolded. Her mind raced through excuses, but Ciize's expression was unrelenting. "Why ME? Why not Aye? Why not Jan? Why not literally anyone else in this building? Jan could do it, she's the organized one!"
Aye hid a laugh behind her hand, her shoulders shaking. "Because you're the most responsible. You won't eat them on the way."
Jan added smoothly, her voice dripping with amusement, "Because you actually listen to directions. Unlike some of us."
"And because," Aye added innocently, "you need good karma. After that last fan edit fiasco, the universe owes you one."
Ciize scooted closer on the couch, clasping her hands together and activating her deadliest weapon, her puppy eyes. The kind that made fans cry at concerts, managers cave on schedules, and even the strictest choreographers soften. They were wide, shimmering, impossible to resist. "Please, Janeyyy," she begged, her voice pitching up into that irresistible whine. "Kapook will be sad if I don't send anything. And I can't go, our dear manager would kill me if I showed up unannounced. And you're so nice. And you're my favorite member today. Please?"
Jane groaned loudly, throwing her head back against the couch in defeat. She could feel her resolve crumbling under the assault, that familiar pull of group loyalty tugging at her. "Ugh, fine! FINE! Just stop staring at me like that! You're weaponizing cuteness, and it's unfair."
Ciize squealed and clapped her hands, bouncing on the cushion like a kid on Christmas morning. "Yes! Thank you, thank you! You're the best!"
"But wait," Jane narrowed her eyes suspiciously, leaning forward to poke at the story's inconsistencies. "You said you blew up your kitchen. How could you possibly have cookies? Did you summon them from the other multiverse?"
Ciize grinned like she'd been waiting for this exact question, her triumph radiating off her in waves. She reached into her bag and lifted a small pastel box with a flourish, placing it on the coffee table like a prized artifact. "Ta-da."
The box was pristine, tied with a delicate ribbon, and inside, visible through the clear lid, were perfectly baked cookies. Beautifully shaped, golden-brown edges, even dusted with a light sprinkle of icing sugar that sparkled under the dorm lights.
Jane blinked, staring in disbelief. "You did NOT make these today. No way."
"Nope!" Ciize said proudly, puffing out her chest. "These were my backup batch from last night. Just in case! I learned from the Great Cake Disaster of '23."
Jane stared at her, a mix of horror and admiration swirling in her chest. "You destroyed your kitchen making... backup cookies? Who even thinks like that?"
Ciize nodded enthusiastically, completely unashamed. "Backup plans are key in love! Kapook taught me that."
Aye whispered to Jan, loud enough for everyone to hear, "She's so in love it's disgusting. In the best way."
Jane sighed deeply, rubbing her temples as she accepted her fate. "Fine. Give me the details. But if this turns into some rom-com mishap where I spill them or something, it's on you."
Jan stretched languidly, grabbing her keys from the side table with a jingle. "I'll drive you. I need air before Monopoly kills us all. Plus, I could use a break from this estrogen-fueled battlefield."
"Thank god," Jane muttered, standing up and smoothing her shirt. "At least one sane person lives here."
As Jane took the cookie box from Ciize, cradling it carefully against her chest, she mumbled under her breath, half-complaining, half-amused at the absurdity of it all. "Maybe next time you could just... buy flowers. Or send a text. Or NOT destroy your kitchen. Which I know is a revolutionary idea for you."
Jan laughed as she slipped on her jacket, the sound light and teasing, slinging an arm around Jane's shoulders. "Come on, lover-girl messenger. Let's go save Ciize's relationship before she blows up the whole dorm."
Jane scowled, shrugging off the arm but following her out anyway. "I am NOT her romantic delivery service! This is a one-time thing!"
"Sure, sure," Jan said, already heading out the door with a wink.
Jan’s car rolled into a shadowy corner of the studio parking lot, hidden behind two large vans and a stack of equipment crates. The engine cut off, leaving only the distant hum of Bangkok traffic from nearby Rama IX Road, where the GMMTV building loomed like a beacon in the afternoon haze.
“This is the closest I can get without security asking questions,” Jan said, pulling her cap lower over her eyes. “You remember what to do?”
Jane groaned, fingers digging into the edges of the cookie box that Ciize put so much love to make, disgustingly a lot of love.
“Yes, I know the plan. Go in. Deliver. Leave. Pray no one sees me. And if they do blame Ciize.”
Jan grinned, her eyes crinkling under the brim. “Perfect. Good luck, my little undercover cookie courier.”
“Never say that again,” Jane muttered, clutching the box like it was a bomb about to go off.
Before stepping out, her phone buzzed in her pocket.
Ciize: Room 3F-17!! Third floor, corridor on the right. Kapook inside rn. Be sneaky 🥺🙏 Love you and you better not drop the cookies!!!
Jane stuffed her phone away, pulled her surgical mask higher to cover half her face, adjusted her cap to shadow her eyes, and slipped inside the building through the side staff entrance. The air inside hit her like a wave, cool AC mixed with the faint scent of khao soi from someone's lunch and the chemical tang of hairspray from the makeup rooms.
Immediately, the noise enveloped her, chatter from passing stylists, rolling equipment carts echoing off the tiled floors, walkie-talkies crackling with urgent Thai commands like “Khun, move the lights to set B na ka!” Perfect. No one would even glance at a random girl.
She spotted an abandoned apron hanging from a rack outside a break room, it was probably from the craft services team, and she threw it over her hoodie. There. Coffee-shop delivery girl vibes achieved. This was turning into an Oscar-worthy disguise, or at least enough to fool the busy crew rushing between shoots for the latest lakorn.
She hurried up the stairs, hugging the walls lined with posters of past GMMTV hits, double-checking that no one she knew was lurking. Third floor. Right hall. Long corridor of dressing rooms, doors labeled with names like bright stars, some familiar from crossover events, others legends she'd only seen on screen.
She approached Room 3F-17, heart thudding louder than the bass from a nearby sound test.
She knocked gently, knuckles barely brushing the wood.
Silence.
Then she tried the handle. Locked.
“…Seriously?” she whispered, panic bubbling up like overboiled tom yum soup.
Delivery people weren’t supposed to knock on celebrity doors like this. Staff would scold her, security would escort her out with that polite but firm voice, not even knowing who she was, and worst of all.
Kapook might think Ciize forgot her, and then Ciize would be sad, and Jane couldn’t handle sad Ciize.
Her stomach twisted tighter than a knotted pha khao ma. Delivery totally failed, and the mission needs to be aborted.
Footsteps echoed down the hallway, sharp heels clicking on the linoleum.
"Shit, someone is coming."
She panicked, spun left, and opened the nearest door without even glancing at the nameplate, diving inside like it was a lifeline.
Inside was dim, quiet, and empty, soft lighting from a vanity mirror casting a warm glow over makeup brushes and script pages scattered on a table. She shut the door behind her with a soft click, exhaled hard through her mask, then leaned her forehead against the cool wood, trying to calm her heartbeat before it launched itself out of her body.
Okay. Hide. Wait. No one will know. Breathe. In. Out. Good. Just like Jan had taught during those panic attacks after big concerts.
She clutched the cookie box to her chest, the faint scent of pandan wafting up, grounding her a little.
But then what could be heard was a voice behind her.
Low. Smooth. Melodic. Beautiful in a way that felt familiar, like the opening notes of a favorite lakorn OST.
“Excuse me… who are you?”
Every cell in Jane’s body froze, a chill racing down her spine despite the room's warmth.
She lifted her head slowly, turning just enough to see a silhouette sitting in front of the bright vanity mirror, script in one hand and a bottle of Oishi green tea in the other.
And in that split-second before her brain fully processed it-
Her heart jumped into her throat so violently that she almost dropped the cookies. The world tilted, her knees weakening as recognition slammed into her like a wave at Pattaya Beach.