Archive of Our Own ^beta

11:25 am

JJ had already been there for nearly an hour, yet it felt exactly the same as having walked in only seconds earlier, as though he were occupying a space that hadn’t existed for him until just a few weeks ago.

It felt strange to think that three weeks had already passed since he’d signed the contract. Three weeks since he had, officially, become part of Domundi TV. And in that time, his life had been dismantled and put back together through silences, internal briefings, shared digital folders, and rules that had slipped into his routine with the same ease as breathing.

He’d been through everything already: the careful sessions with P’Lin, who wanted to make sure he was emotionally prepared. HR, who seemed to have an answer for every question he didn’t even know he had. The legal team, who’d laid out with precision all the implications of a five-year contract.

He’d met P’Ker and gone through the guidelines on public image, schedules, use of social media, documents, and official channels. He even had a badge now, with a photo he thought was awful, and a corporate email that still felt like it belonged to someone else whenever he typed his name into the login field.

Now, sitting in one of the rooms in the building, with the air-conditioning blowing far too cold around his ankles, JJ was reading a script for his improvisation class while rolling a pen between his fingers. The movement was automatic, like tapping a foot on the floor or holding his breath without noticing, but he knew exactly where it came from.

It was because P’Ker’s voice still hovered fresh in his memory, delivered in that pragmatic tone that didn’t invite argument: “You don’t exist to the public yet. Until the announcement, everything’s confidential and you’ve got to graft, Nong. We’ll give it our best”. The weight of it didn’t scare him, he’d lived through similar versions back in his trainee days, but this was the first time confidentiality felt like something genuinely designed to protect him, not restrain him.

Since then, he’d been working flat out to repay everyone’s trust, to be flawless to the point of not ruining things for Net, and that was why he’d been throwing himself fully into training, into the conversations with P’Tom, who was working through media training with him as if dismantling an emotional clock.

Over the past week, JJ had learned more about keeping his composure in interviews, how to answer sensitive questions without sounding defensive, how to sidestep controversies that didn’t even exist yet. And even though he’d gone through all of this during the LOVEiS period, it felt different now. Not because he felt less secure, but because this time there was something bigger at stake. This time, it was himself.

There was an almost absurd level of trust and commitment that made him feel held, that made him want to do everything the right way.

That was why, now, in that room that smelled of polished floors, with white light reflecting off the pages, he felt as though he was about to cross a threshold no one would see, but that would change everything the moment he took the first step.

He set the script across his lap, smoothed the fold of the paper with his fingertips, and let the pen slide to the edge of the table, taking a deep breath as though he needed to line his whole body up before opening his mouth to say anything at all.

❖ ❖ ❖

“I…” he narrowed his eyes slightly. “I don’t know if I can answer that for sure, Phi…” JJ admitted at last. His voice came out low, but steady enough not to sound like a dodge. “I’ve never been in a place like this. Even when I was a trainee, even during media training, none of it was ever this big compared to becoming the co-actor of…”

“Of Net Siraphop?”

“I’m not playing down my years in the industry, let alone the little I managed to do…” he nodded, firm. “But nothing’s been as big as being associated with Net Siraphop. Especially after everything he built with his former partner. I know expectations are high, I know there’ll be comparisons and I think that…” he breathed in again, pulling strength from somewhere he couldn’t quite find “… that if there’s a negative reaction from their fans, I’m going to feel it. I don’t know how I’ll react”.

Dra. Kanyarat Suthasiri, with her fine-framed glasses and meticulously organised notes set beside her, stayed silent long enough for JJ to understand it wasn’t an empty pause. It was analysis. Observation. Presence. She tilted her head slightly, as if recognising something that didn’t need fixing, only understanding.

“Nong JJ…” she began, leaving a small pocket of silence before the words, as though making space for him to breathe inside them. “What you’ve described is natural. Fear isn’t a sign of weakness, nor proof that you’re not ready. Fear exists to protect, it tries to anticipate what might go wrong, tries to stop you from being hurt again”.

She inclined her head again, studying his expression with a care that seemed shaped by years of watching people fold inwards without noticing.

“Feeling afraid isn’t the problem…” she went on, gently but firmly. “The problem is when it starts deciding for you, when it becomes the filter through which you measure what you deserve, what you’re capable of, what you’re allowed to dream of. And that…” the therapist emphasised, lowering her pen. “That doesn’t belong to fear. That belongs to you”.

JJ kept his gaze on her, barely blinking.

“When you think about a negative reaction, you’re looking at a scenario that doesn’t exist yet”, she said, with that patience that seemed to push things back into the right place inside him. “You’re reacting to a possibility, not a fact. And possibilities aren’t predictions, they don’t carry weight of their own until you give them that weight.

The therapist smiled, gesturing gently before continuing:

“So far, there’s no evidence at all that you won’t be able to handle whatever comes, Nong. Quite the opposite, you’ve faced pressure before, you’ve been through situations far tougher than the ones you’re acknowledging now, and you adapted, you grew, you held your ground. The only thing that’s changed here is the size of the stage, not your ability”.

JJ breathed again — deeper, more deliberately — but he still felt the air snag in that narrow space between his chest and throat. He wished doing were as simple as listening. Life would be easier that way.

“You don’t need to get rid of fear”, she smiled. “You just need to stop it from dictating the whole path. Your job isn’t to be perfect, it’s to be functional, aware, prepared. And you’re doing that very well”.

JJ let his hands fall slowly onto his knees, feeling the weight of his body shift, as though something inside him had finally loosened a knot that had been pulled tight for weeks. The tension in his shoulders eased a little, his chest felt less constricted, and for the first time since all of this had begun, there was a small but real space where doubt shared ground with some kind of possibility.

“Right…” he murmured, his voice still low but less fragile than before, like someone who doesn’t quite know how to believe yet, but can, for the first time, try. “I’ll try to think that way”.

It wasn’t a perfect promise, it wasn’t conviction.

But it was a start.

“Do that. Try today, then tomorrow, and the day after… Take one real step at a time, and don’t force yourself”.

After spending some time just talking through the exercises he’d be doing at home, she walked him to the door, and he realised he was biting his own lip, an involuntary habit that surfaced when he needed to take in something too big all at once.

“I hope to see you again soon, Nong JJ”, Dra. Suthasiri said, smiling gently at him. “And if anything weighs on you before then, if any concern crops up along the way, you can message. I’m always available to help”.

JJ dipped his head in thanks, already about to leave, when he stopped and froze for a second. Because right there, in front of the door, waiting his turn, was Teetut Chungmanirat. P’Ker, who’d spent the last few minutes sorting something out in the corridor, lifted her gaze quickly:

“Nong JJ, this is Nong Teetut, Thomas…” she gestured with a broad smile. “He’s part of the third generation. You’ll have plenty of time to get to know each other better once you’re introduced to everyone”.

JJ smiled, surprised, bowing politely.

“Sawadee krap*, Nong Thomas”.

Thomas returned the greeting with a polite, slightly shy smile, perhaps because JJ was a year older. Perhaps because they didn’t really know each other yet, only through the people tasked with keeping them in line. Or maybe it was just the situation itself.

The psychologist greeted him too with a gentle nod.

“Nong Thomas, you can come in now. And, JJ… until our next session”.

He nodded and followed P’Ker down the overlit corridor, where the smell of air conditioning and stale coffee always seemed to compete for space. It was strange how everything there felt so big and, at the same time, so close to something deeply intimate, almost too familiar. As if every decision were a stone being placed on the path ahead of him.

“Oh, Nong, before I forget…” P’Ker said, walking beside him with brisk steps. “The weekly schedule’s been updated. I’ve already sent everything to your corporate email, but I’ll run you through the essentials now”.

He listened closely, even though half his mind was still caught on the psychologist’s words, on the way she’d told him to take things slowly, without pushing himself, without letting fear bring him to a standstill.

“First…” she continued. “It’s been decided that your official manager will be the same as Net’s. We think you’ll both feel more at ease that way. He already knows Nong Net’s dynamics, and, honestly, it makes things a lot smoother when partners are under the same management. I’ll still be part of your team as well, which is great”.

JJ nodded slowly.

“But besides him, you’ll also have an assistant”, she added. “For quick, simple, bureaucratic stuff. Scheduling, adjustments, messages. You won’t be lost in the middle of the logistics, I promise. The whole process will be streamlined by the management team”.

They turned down the corridor, and JJ realised he was clutching the script to his chest, maybe as a reflex to everything he still had to get through that day. P’Ker opened the car door and he got in first.

“In the afternoon you’ve got your camera class…” P’Ker said, checking the tablet without breaking stride. “We’ll start with framing, presence, eye control. Nothing too heavy today, just an introduction”.

JJ tried to take a deep breath, but the air was still caught somewhere fragile inside him. He fastened his seatbelt and set the script on his lap, because his hands were far too sweaty.

“And in the evening, we’ve…” P’Ker flashed a quick smile, almost too knowing. “We’ve got the company dinner. It’s informal, but important. You’ll meet the fourth-generation actors, everyone who’ll be announced soon”.

JJ lifted his head.

P’Aof had mentioned the presentation dinner, and he’d already crossed paths with one or two of the actors signed for the company’s new line-up, but he still wasn’t really ready. His heart picked up speed, with a strange sense of anticipation.

“Don’t worry!” P’Ker said, catching the panicked look on his face. She lowered the tablet and looked straight at him. “They’re lovely. And they’re going to like you”.

JJ let the air out slowly, as if he were still adjusting to the idea that all of this was already happening — properly, right under his feet. That, somehow, he wasn’t just stepping into a new chapter.

He was about to surface. And everything, absolutely everything, was already moving underneath.

❖ ❖ ❖

The exhaustion had settled into JJ hours earlier, but now it felt like it had grown roots inside his bones. It wasn’t just physical, it was the kind of tiredness that squeezed his thoughts, that turned every breath into a reminder that he was going too deep, too fast, in a space where no one had asked for perfection — except himself.

They’d already run through the same scene six times, maybe seven, he’d lost count. Not because his memory was failing, but because, to his body, there was no longer any gap between one attempt and the next.

Everything blurred into a single line: P’Aof watching with absolute focus, the assistant director jotting down details with a steady pen, Mandee’s head of casting crossing their legs with an overly analytical look, a legal rep from management tapping away on their phone, the cameraman adjusting angles, the acting coach assessing his posture.

And JJ, right in the middle, trying not to shrink.

They weren’t pressuring him, far from it. P’Aof had insisted, more times than he cared to admit, that JJ should relax and forget this was work, but inside his head there was a voice whispering that if this wasn’t perfect, everything could fall apart. That he had to earn his place there, that Net’s name already carried too much weight, too much history, too many expectations, and that he couldn’t be the weak link in the whole thing.

Even after telling his therapist he’d go easier on himself, he couldn’t manage it. With every new take, JJ felt his chest tighten a little more, like he was trying to hold back a tide that wouldn’t stop coming in. His neck muscles ached, his jaw was locked, and his breathing had gone off-rhythm.

It was only when P’Aof raised a hand and called for a five-minute break that JJ seemed to wake up. Not because relief hit him, but because his body was far too tense even to realise it needed a pause.

Net crossed the room in silence, as if he’d already decided he wasn’t letting this carry on. For the first few seconds, he didn’t say a thing. He just stopped in front of him, letting his silence do the work. A pause. A safe bit of space JJ hadn’t managed to create on his own. Then Net let out a slow breath, the kind that knocks thoughts out of line, and murmured, without taking his eyes off him:

“What can I do to help you feel calmer?”

JJ blinked. It was far too simple a reaction, but it gave everything away. It was like his brain had lost the ability to process the question. He stood there, frozen, staring at Net as if he needed to rearrange the meanings before answering. And Net leaned back against the wall, shifting his weight like someone who wasn’t in a rush, like someone willing to wait however long it took. Then he leaned in a bit more and took JJ’s hand gently, as if it were a question in itself.

“You’re stressed, Nong…” Net went on, low but steady. “And I can’t help with that if you don’t tell me what I can do”.

JJ looked at that hand holding his, as if he were watching something impossible happen right in front of him. A gesture no one there should’ve witnessed — not in that kind of setting, not with so many people watching them, not when the pressure had turned the air rigid. Still, he took an unconscious step closer, almost like his body moved before the decision did.

And before he could think about any consequences, he took Net’s hand and placed it on the top of his own head, tilting forward just a bit, pulling an almost childish, needy, broken little pout.

“I need a bit of affection and encouragement…” he murmured, exhausted, nearly melting into the gesture. “Please, Phi. Compliment me”.

Net’s laugh came as quickly as it was soft. It was a warm sound that cut across the whole room before he even realised it. And it rang out loudly enough to draw attention from the table at the back.

Their assistant manager, P’Non, nudged P’Ker, who nudged P’Aof, who lifted his eyebrows in a mix of disbelief and quiet pride, because that was exactly the kind of closeness he wanted to see. P’Ker was already pulling her phone from her pocket, opening the camera to capture something that definitely wasn’t part of the training, but that, honestly, said far more about their chemistry than any test scene ever could.

Net stroked JJ’s head slowly, almost like he was sketching something into his scalp — a gesture far too tender for such a professional setting. JJ sighed and rested his forehead against Net’s collarbone without even realising he’d done it, his body seeking shelter, relief, quiet. And Net, unsure where to put everything that stirred inside him, simply let the back of his head tap lightly against the wall behind, breathing in deep.

“I think I’m letting the script get the upper hand…” JJ murmured into his shirt, his voice muffled, too tired to hide any vulnerability. “It feels like I can’t really get the character, even though I’ve read it a thousand times”.

Net closed his eyes, thinking it through. Then he tilted his head to speak near JJ’s ear, unhurried: “That’s because you’re trying to control everything. Sometimes you just need to stop fighting the scene and let it run through you in one go, no messing about. You’re good, JJ. Really good. But you’ve got to trust yourself more than the outcome”.

The silence that followed was necessary.

Even if he didn’t realise it, he needed those words. He needed Net to confirm, one more time, that everything would be alright so his mind could loosen just a touch in front of all those people.

Honestly, when the cameras were off it was easier, because it was just him and Net. There wasn’t that quiet expectation hanging in the air that they’d work, that they’d show chemistry, that Net really had made the right call and that P’Aof hadn’t messed up with the two of them.

Because, no matter how hard he was trying, JJ was still unsure.

He took a deep breath, like someone finding something they’d lost, and stepped back slowly. He squared his shoulders, pressed his lips together in a determined gesture, and gave a small, firm nod.

Net chuckled softly, proud.

“Ready?”

Before JJ could reply, P’Aof called out from the back of the room:

“Nong, are you two ready to give it another go?”

JJ turned at once, lifting both thumbs with a grin that made someone at the table murmur ‘he’s way too cute…’, and Net glanced towards the voice, already knowing exactly who’d said it, but before he could answer, JJ called his name for the third time.

Net smiled and followed him back to the centre of the room.

They took their marks, breathed in together without meaning to, met each other’s eyes one last time, and then stepped into the scene. The air shifted fast. The characters rose between them like something inevitable, a force built in the way JJ drew his body back, in how his voice cracked at just the right moments, in how Net pushed forward with the raw energy of someone on the brink of losing everything he loved after something unavoidable.

For the first time in a while, the space around them seemed to vanish, and when the argument escalated, JJ stepped back a beat too far, his chest hitching as if it were real. Net followed, his voice breaking at the perfect point, and when he grabbed JJ’s wrist and pulled him back to him with a certainty that froze everyone in the room, JJ gasped out loud.

The sound sliced through the space like a furious wave.

It wasn’t in the script.

It wasn’t technical.

It was visceral.

JJ lifted his eyes slowly, meeting Net’s, and there was a second — just one single second — where the training vanished completely from his mind, and suddenly it was only the two of them. There was only the silent confession the scene demanded they give. And then Net delivered the line, the most dangerous one, the most intimate:

“‘I love you. Even if you’re leaving me…’”

The room fell into absolute silence.

Until P’Aof lifted a hand, almost voiceless:

“… cut!”

And then, as if someone had unlocked the world, the applause broke out. Tentative at first, then stronger. The acting coach smiled, murmuring something to P’Ker about how the timing had been spot on this time. The head of casting gave a small nod of approval, and P’Aof leaned his arms on the table like someone who’d just witnessed something rare.

JJ and Net eased away from each other slowly, still breathing as if the scene were inside them, alive, pulsing. They barely looked at one another, simply waiting for the feedback. And it came intense, positive, full of certainty about how deep they could go with more time.

“If you keep this up, you’re going to smash it!” P’Aof smiled.

Net finally looked at JJ, but JJ wasn’t looking back at him. In fact, he didn’t seem to be looking at anything at all, just straight ahead, and Net felt a shiver run through him, like that scene had shifted something for good.

❖ ❖ ❖

JJ arrived at the restaurant in a rush that only seemed to exist on the inside, because on the outside there was something almost organised in the way he walked, a kind of disciplined tiredness from someone who’d already got used to running. He’d gone back home because he needed to change clothes, wash his face, look at least presentable for dinner.

Nothing dramatic, but still enough to delay him a few minutes.

Because of that, he’d ended up a bit late.

P’Non had spent half the journey between JJ’s place and the restaurant trying to convince himself it wasn’t a problem, that everyone was late now and then, but he looked more anxious than JJ himself, with steps that were far too quick and mentally running through the names of everyone who’d be at dinner while JJ typed out a short message to his sister, explaining he might take longer than expected.

He only lifted his head because he heard the assistant ask, frowning:

“Oh! Nong Net, why are you outside?”

The sentence made him stop mid-step.

JJ looked up and smiled before he could stop his face from doing it when he saw Net standing by the glass door, hands in the pockets of his black trousers, hair styled with deliberate laziness, posture far too relaxed for someone who always had dozens of expectations hanging off his shoulders. Net looked away from the street when he noticed the two of them, and the smile came naturally, as if it had been saved exactly for that moment.

“Nothing serious. I just came out to get a bit of fresh air”, Net said, simple, almost innocent, as if he were explaining why he’d chosen to exist outside rather than inside.

And then he stepped closer and rested a hand on JJ’s back with that quiet confidence that usually left him strangely steady. The touch was warm, sure, far too familiar for someone who, technically, shouldn’t feel familiar like that. JJ put his phone away without even sending the message he’d been typing, because Net’s presence in front of him rearranged everything.

He was priority.

“I ran a bit late…” JJ started, running a hand through his hair as if trying to justify something no one had asked for. “It took longer than I expected to get ready, and P’Non kept insisting I had to look extremely good today…”

Net laughed instantly, that open, spontaneous laugh he always let out when a small truth caught him off guard: “Nah! JJ isn’t good-looking…” he said, with the cheekiest expression in the world. “JJ’s cute”.

JJ stopped, offended.

“Cute-? Phi, that’s not a compliment! That’s basically an insult!”

“No, it’s just reality”, Net teased, nudging his shoulder lightly. “Good-looking I can sort out if I look around, but someone who’s ridiculously cute the way you are? No chance. Cute’s something natural”.

They started a low, soft argument, full of playful jabs that only ever happened when no one was paying attention. But as soon as a staff member opened the door and the sound of conversation burst from inside, JJ immediately cut off whatever reply had been about to reach the tip of his tongue.

There were a lot of people there.

Most of the actors, some managers, directors, people from staff. A few faces he knew, others he’d seen at events, some who’d spoken to him directly during his time as an actor at another company. And still, nothing had really prepared him to be there, to walk in as if he belonged to that family.

JJ bowed formally.

And greeted them one by one, with all the politeness he’d learnt since his earliest days as a trainee, even though some of them had already hugged him in other contexts, drunk with him, taken photos beside him at charity events. There, in that institutional space, formality felt like the only language possible.

P’Aof lifted his head and broke into a smile so wide it nearly lit up the entire table: “Ah, Nong JJ!” the director said, gesturing for him to come closer. “You had to be late just to make a dramatic entrance with Nong Net, didn’t you?”

Net laughed, and this time the flirting came so easily it left half the table in shock. And the other half laughing freely as they heard him:

“Phi, don’t put all the blame on me. If he pulls every gaze when he walks in, there’s nothing I can do about it”.

Some of the first-generation actors laughed out loud, others just widened their eyes like they’d seen lightning strike far too close. And JJ wanted to crawl into a hole and only come out when everyone was ninety, so they’d have forgotten Net’s ridiculous comment.

Dinner started slowly after that, as if everyone were settling into their own role in a gathering that was meant to be completely informal. But luckily the conversations blended easily, glasses were raised, cutlery tapped lightly against plates.

JJ ended up sitting near Kim Pongsaton, and in less than five minutes they were talking as if they’d been born in the same house. JJ explained, in an amused way, how he’d known P’Yim for years, how they were always trying to arrange something and never managed to because of Yim’s schedule, and Kim was genuinely attentive to everything. He laughed out loud, saying that was the very definition of friendship in the industry.

Net was beside him, chatting with P’Zee and Keng about something that involved an old drama, or an event, or some viral video they’d seen. It was hard to tell, all that really came through were the laughs popping out between sentences.

The entire restaurant felt alive.

And it was only when P’Aof stood up, clearing his throat and lifting his glass, that the noise began to fade, as if someone had pressed an invisible button.

“Boys…” P’Aof began, smiling. “Today is far too special for me and the whole team. Seeing you all here, seeing the new actors, seeing how the family grows every year… Phi gets very emotional. You’ve got light, you’ve got strength, you’ve got dreams that go way beyond what we can even imagine”.

JJ smiled when Kim whispered that P’Aof was very sentimental.

“And I…” he took a deep breath, his voice almost breaking with pride. They’d come a long way to reach that moment. “I can’t wait to see you lighting up the world with your talent”.

A chorus of applause filled the room, glasses were raised, toasts crossed, soft laughter burst out. JJ turned to Net with a wide, knowing smile, as if they were sharing a silent joke just between the two of them.

“May the world light up with your talent!” he teased.

“May the world light up with your cuteness”, Net shot back, smiling.

A few hours later, almost everyone had already left. The air was quieter, more intimate. It felt as though all the formality had drained away after a few bottles and now they could simply go with the flow. JJ was talking to Nong Kong about vocal training when P’Non approached with a hint of concern:

“Nong JJ, sorry to interrupt, but you need to go. You’ve got the vocal test early, and you haven’t reviewed the lesson script either. Shall we?”

JJ said his goodbyes, trying to be as informal as he could — just like they’d asked him to be — but even so, when he opened his mouth his voice came out overly polite, and when he dipped his head, the bow was deeper than he’d meant. Kong laughed, but understood it wasn’t formality by choice, it was reflex. His body still reacted first, before thought, as if years of good manners had been stitched into his bones.

He smiled when he heard someone tell him to stop thanking people like that, but thanked them again without realising it. He excused himself from everyone, waved gently to those already turned away, and followed P’Non down the corridor, hands pressed together to say goodbye to anyone he passed.

When they reached the end of the long corridor, P’Non let out a loud sigh: “Where’s Nong Net?” he turned to JJ. “I said he was coming with us, God… Nong, wait here. I’ll go get him. Just a moment”.

And he left so fast the rush of air almost pushed JJ back into his seat. He leaned against the wall, pulling out his phone to check the last messages he’d ignored. He replied to his mum, then sent a location to his sister, from a restaurant they’d been wanting to go to.

When he realised it, fifteen minutes had already passed.

He looked around and saw no sign of Net or P’Non, so he decided to do exactly the opposite of what he’d been told. He walked all the way back down the corridor, because he was thirsty and remembered seeing a room with several bottles stacked up with the Mandee logo on them.

When JJ turned the corner, he stopped abruptly.

He heard a laugh.

A laugh that, unbelievably, he’d already learnt to recognise among all the others. It was Net. JJ rolled his eyes, because P’Non clearly hadn’t gone that way. He took two steps, ready to call him so they could leave, but another voice cut through the space first.

A voice muffled by the door.

A voice that shouldn’t have been there.

It took him a few seconds to process the sound, because it was low, intimate, almost secret. And he only understood when he heard Net murmur the name, almost like some kind of restrained but intentional warning.

James.

And for some reason, hearing James’s name cut through JJ like a sudden change in temperature. He didn’t know exactly why, but he felt awful. It wasn’t anger, let alone jealousy like his sister had said he’d feel if he saw them together. It was simply the shock of having, unintentionally, opened the door to a sacred place. A place that wasn’t his, where there was too much history, too much silence, too much weight to be witnessed.

He gripped the door handle tightly, fingers sinking into the cold metal. JJ blinked slowly, half dazed, as if he’d been pushed out of the scene before even understanding it. A soft but deep discomfort settled at the base of his spine, spreading up to the nape of his neck.

For a full minute, he stayed there, motionless, listening to Net laugh again — a low, almost whispered laugh — while the other voice said something JJ couldn’t make out. And then he let go of the handle and turned around without making a sound, without even breathing or trying to understand.

He simply went straight back to where P’Non had left him.

The place from which, for some reason that hurt to admit, he felt he should never have walked away in the first place.

- ii -

The event had been a success from the very first minute — the kind where the crowd’s energy seemed to overflow, spill into the air, and catch on with everyone in the building. Net had laughed so much his jaw ached, talked to so many people that his fingers were starting to tingle, but none of it felt like exhaustion, it was lightness.

It was as if, after months of silence, preparation, tension, and expectation, his life had finally clicked into a rhythm that made sense. Every fan he met, every photo he took, every question he answered seemed to slot into a mechanism that was finally turning in his favour.

It was the first major event since the official announcement of JJ as his new partner, and for Net, that deep shift — so subtle on the surface and so devastating underneath — was now beginning to translate into something bigger than him, bigger than fear, bigger than doubt. It felt as though life was, at last, nudging him into a place where everything flowed naturally, as if he had been meant to arrive there from the very start.

He finished talking to a fan, handing over a photo with his autograph before making a small bow, then moved on to the next person in the queue. He smiled automatically — a genuine smile, one that came easily — and tilted his head to hear her better.

The young woman took a deep breath, clearly gathering the courage to say something that weighed heavily on her:

“I want to say something… very bad”.

Net’s expression didn’t shift an inch. He kept his calm, professional smile, wrapped in the care he always offered fans when they hesitated. He nodded gently:

“Mm. It’s alright. You can say it”.

She took a second, biting her lip before continuing:

“I know you’ve already said there’s no chance of acting with Nong James again, he’s carrying on with his own career…” the words came out fast, tense. “But honestly, every time you mention your new partner, it makes me feel very uncomfortable”.

Inside, a thin wave rose in Net’s chest.

He wasn’t angry, and he wasn’t hurt, it was something denser than that, an unease that pressed against his ribs. Still, on the outside, he pretended he wasn’t feeling it. He kept his relaxed posture, the same smile he’d mastered over the years, the same attentive gaze.

Even so, a part of him closed off.

Because it was always like this now.

Every time JJ’s name came up in these contexts, something in his stomach tightened. Not because he felt ashamed or unsure, but because he hated seeing JJ pulled into that shadow, into a place that had nothing to do with him. And he hated, too, the quiet sense that people weren’t ready to move past everything he’d had with James.

Mandee Work had officially announced just days earlier that JJ would be Net’s new partner. They’d done their first photoshoot together that week, stood on the same stage in front of hundreds of fans shortly before. For Net, it was the natural continuation of something that had been growing long before the announcement. For the public, it was far too abrupt. Far too cruel.

“And maybe I felt disappointed when I see you talking about him so openly…” she admitted, tightening her fingers around her coat.

“I understand”, Net murmured, inviting her to go on.

“So because of that, I think everything happened too fast to me, you know?” she laughed, but there was no humour in it. It was fragile, almost an apology for her own pain. “I need more time to try to accept that you and Nong James aren’t together anymore”.

Net nodded slowly, patiently, with the calm that always surfaced when he had to handle feelings that weren’t his, but that landed heavy in his hands. And he replied, looking straight at her. Not coldly, but sincerely:

“Yes… I know. But actually…” he took a deep breath, without losing the gentleness in his voice. “If I’m honest… for me, it’s been almost a year since everything happened, you know?” he smiled. “And I know that to you it feels very fast, but it isn’t like that. JJ and I have been together for some time now and we’re doing well, and the project needs to move forward”.

❖ ❖ ❖

The music filled the gym with a low vibration that seemed to cut straight through Net’s chest from the inside out, keeping time with the rhythmic thud of dumbbells hitting padded gloves.

Each rep made his skin gleam more, made the muscles in his shoulders tremble with effort, made his breathing turn short, hot. Sweat ran down his neck, followed the firm line of his back, and disappeared into the fabric of the grey vest.

There was something almost meditative about it, in the way his body moved with precision, as if he were trying to drive out some invisible tension with every lift. He was so immersed in his own strength, in the muffled sound of metal, that he didn’t notice the reflection in the glass straight away.

It was just a shadow, an interruption, a human outline where no one should have been. The jolt ran through him like a shock. His grip slipped, the weight crashed down with a metallic bang that echoed far too loud, pain splintered through his shoulder as he twisted too fast, gasping through clenched teeth while he yanked the headphones from his ears.

And that was how, still with his body on full alert, Net saw JJ standing in the middle of the gym, completely still, arms crossed, his expression heavy with a silent bad mood that didn’t suit the time of day at all. There was something hard in the way his shoulders were held tense, as if he’d spent far too long rehearsing not to blow up.

Net’s surprise was as real as the pain in his shoulder.

He dragged a hand down his wet face, shoved his soaked hair back, and took a deep breath, trying to work out which part of the world had shifted without warning.

“JJ?!” his voice came out rough, low. Then Net frowned, even more confused than before: “Ah… how did you even get in here?”

JJ didn’t hesitate, didn’t step back, didn’t soften a thing.

“You gave me the code to your place”, he said, in a tone so dry it could’ve been an accusation. “And the security recognised P’Non”.

Net blinked slowly, as if his brain were scrambling to catch up with his body and piece together something that made any sense at all. He looked over JJ’s shoulder, scanning the space as if expecting to see the assistant standing somewhere, maybe leaning against a wall, maybe holding a bottle of water.

“And where is he now?”

“He’s gone”, JJ replied, and the silence that followed felt far too big, as if the gym were a sealed box where words bounced around until they warped the air.

They stood there, facing each other, motionless for a few seconds.

Net wasn’t uncomfortable with JJ being there — that was normal, even intimate. The discomfort came from JJ’s strange posture, from a gaze so steady it felt like an accusation without quite being one. Net lifted his brows, waiting. Needing to know. Needing JJ to make the first move so he could even react properly.

JJ took a deep breath.

It wasn’t the first time Net had seen him irritated, but it was the first time he’d been afraid of what might happen if he didn’t calm down. The worst scenarios leapt into his mind. He thought JJ might say he was done, that it was exhausting, that he’d rather go back to who he’d been before meeting him, before all this madness.

“I saw your interview”.

Net frowned, genuinely lost.

“My interview…?”

JJ rolled his eyes: “With that fan… the one who said she can’t get over the two of you not being a couple anymore, that you need to-”

“It’s alright, I get it!” Net cut him off too quickly, ripping the gloves off and moving towards him. His expression shut down in an instant, not out of irritation with JJ, but because he’d thought he’d have more time before this conversation. “I knew we were going to have it, I just didn’t think it’d be this soon…” he murmured, the last part slipping out almost like a thought that wasn’t meant to escape. He touched JJ’s elbow gently, guiding him towards the exit of the gym. “Just let me grab a shower first, please”.

But JJ stopped.

He stopped properly, like he’d hit solid glass. When he turned to face him again, the expression wasn’t just upset anymore, it was hurt. It was personal. It was far too deep to be only about what that fan had said. It was about him. About fear.

Net felt his stomach sink slowly.

He felt every muscle in his face soften, then lifted his hand and rested it on the top of JJ’s head, leaning in slightly until their eyes were level. It was a gesture he used to calm him in the middle of a storm, to draw him closer, to say without words I’m here. And JJ always melted just a little when he did that.

But this time, that wasn’t what happened.

“I heard you two laughing…” he pulled his head away, taking a step back. Net blinked. “At the dinner. You and P’James. I heard you”.

The colour drained from Net’s face as if someone had flicked a switch.

He stepped back too. Not out of fear, but because the impact of the revelation — blunt and raw — hit him all at once. He blinked slowly. Looked away for a full second, trying to steady himself, before attempting a defensive smile.

“What do you mean, you… heard me with James?”

Heat rushed to JJ’s face.

“It wasn’t on purpose!” he said quickly. “I was looking for that little room with the water bottles ‘cause P’Non was taking forever to find you! Then I went down the corridor and heard you laugh. I thought you were fucking alone there… I don’t know, maybe recording something…”

He took a deep breath, looking away for a moment.

Net clenched his jaw.

“But then I heard… him”.

And the air between them shifted.

The whole gym seemed to narrow even further, as if the walls had taken a long, suffocating step closer. They stood facing each other, so close that the smell of fresh sweat on Net’s body, mixed with the light scent JJ was wearing, seemed to fill the space like a reminder. Net ran a hand through his damp hair, drawing in a breath as if bracing his own body for an emotional clash.

“JJ, honestly… I think I need a shower before we have this fucking conversation…” he said, almost a plea, almost a warning.

“No!” JJ shot back, firm, and the word ricocheted like a blow.

Net stared at him, startled. That was new. JJ was stubborn and impatient, but he was a good listener. He was always willing to stay present when Net talked or said something important, and what had just happened was rare. JJ never raised his voice. It was rare for him to demand, or to put himself first in such a determined way, but there was an urgent, almost desperate need in his voice now.

“We’re talking about this now!” JJ went on, his chest rising and falling far too fast. “We agreed to be transparent. I told you I might feel insecure, even if I try to be the best version of myself and keep my head in check, I still have my flaws…” his voice faltered slightly. “People are threatening me, saying horrible things, and you’re out there hiding with James?”

JJ blinked, reflexes too short to control, as if he were fighting himself from the inside, for having seen something he shouldn’t have, for having felt something he didn’t want to admit. And still, he couldn’t stop himself from demanding an explanation.

The frustration was right there, trapped between his shallow breathing and the way he held his shoulders far too tense, almost defensive. And Net understood, truly. It wasn’t a pure accusation. It wasn’t jealousy. It was fear.

It was raw fear, recognisable, familiar. A fear he knew all too well because he’d felt similar things before, and because he’d been watching JJ wrestle with it since day one.

“And what about that whole ‘we have to be careful’ thing, Phi?”

Net pressed his lips together.

“JJ… it’s not like that!”

“What was so funny?” JJ crossed his arms. “Huh?”

“Nothing. We were just talking…”

He laughed, but it was a bitter, ugly sound:

“The fans are right, you should-”

“I was talking about you!” Net cut him off with a seriousness that made him step back half a pace. His jaw tightened, sharp, almost locked. He ran a hand over his face and bit his lip, unable to move his eyes elsewhere even as frustration burned through him. “Fuck, JJ!”

JJ blinked, and the shock of the response turned into more fear.

“He’s known me for years…” Net rushed on, gesturing as if he wanted to stop that foolish thought in its tracks. “And I needed advice from someone who used to be my friend, alright?”

“About me?”

Net twisted his mouth, nodding: “Yeah… about you”.

“He doesn’t know me!”

“But I do…” Net shrugged. “And I wanted to be the one to talk about you to him, because I don’t want other people saying bad things about you. Not to him, not to anyone. And in the end, I asked for advice because you have similar dreams and I wasn’t joking when I said I don’t want to make the same mistake!”

Net’s words hung in the air like something JJ hadn’t prepared himself to hear, as if they carried too much weight to fit inside the gym lit by cold lights. He kept his arms crossed, but the gesture lost its strength, went slack, as if the confession itself had knocked something inside him out of place.

His face changed. The irritation was still there, raw and sharp, but now mixed with something more fragile, almost childlike, the kind of vulnerability he tried to hide whenever he could. He didn’t know what to do with it. He didn’t know where to look, didn’t know how to react to the fact that Net had gone to James of all people to ask for advice about him.

And that thought hit him again, hot and uncomfortable, turning his throat into a tight knot. JJ drew a deep breath, but the air seemed to go in crooked, as if everything were colliding with an old fear of not being enough, of anyone being able to see that before he did.

Net noticed.

He noticed every inch of that hesitation, that tiny retreat, that silence that was no longer anger. And for a moment, he looked tired too, but not the kind that came from training or arguing. It was a deeper, emotional fatigue, of someone trying to carry two things at once: his own frustration and the care for someone he didn’t want to hurt.

He loosened his hands, let his shoulders drop, and his breath left him as if he were trying not to raise his voice, not to lose his temper, not to let his intention get lost in the middle of JJ’s insecurity.

His eyes softened a little, despite all the tension, and he sighed, steady but not aggressive. There was something almost sad there. As if he were saying, without words: I’m trying. Please, see that too. And it was there, in that moment full of silence and emotional disorder, that everything Net still hadn’t said began to take shape inside him, on the verge of coming out.

Not as defence, but as truth.

Net ran a hand through his damp hair again, as if gathering courage in the motion, then lifted his gaze — straight, firm, in a way that made JJ want to look away but unable to.

“I’m not against you!” he said, finally letting out what had been piling up inside him. “And I’m not on James’s side, or on the side of people who don’t understand what happened. Or on anyone’s side. I’m on our side…” his voice didn’t shake, but there was weight in it, something alive and deep. “And I went to talk to him ‘cause I was afraid of messing things up with you, and he’s seen me mess things up before. I needed to understand how not to repeat that. I didn’t go there because I miss him. I talk to him because I don’t want to lose you because of my own scrambled head, or because I don’t know how to deal with everything that’s happening”.

JJ blinked slowly, as if the sentence had hit a place he didn’t know was exposed in that moment. His breathing changed, became more contained, like someone trying to hold a thousand thoughts with both hands. His jaw loosened a little, his shoulders dropped a few millimetres.

Net took a step closer, without touching, just enough so the distance between them was no longer an enemy.

“Juju… I know you’re scared”, he went on, quieter now, calmer. “I am too. It’s just that I’m trying every day not to let that fear make my choices for me. And I wanted… I really wanted you to try that with me, JJ. Because all of this…” Net gestured between them, the heavy air, the anger, the exhaustion, the overprotectiveness. “… only exists because I care. If I didn’t care, I wouldn’t have gone after James at all. I’d have left things as they were but I’m trying to do this the best way I can. For you”.

And then, the same way it had come in like a tide, JJ’s feelings and frustrations were swept away. He dropped his gaze quickly, as if he couldn’t hold the intensity of what Net was offering him, again. He rubbed the back of his neck, took a deep breath, and this time the air went all the way in, clean. Without catching. Without hurting.

“I…” he started, but his voice came out weak. “I just… I don’t want to be compared. I don’t want to be someone’s replacement after who mattered so much to you. I don’t want to be that. And hearing you two… and the fans”.

Net let out a long breath, and for the first time since the argument had started, his face softened completely: “JJ… I’ll tell you this as many times as it takes, but you’re not anyone’s replacement to me”, he said, almost like an oath. “You’re the first choice I made after everything. Not because I needed to fill a gap, but because you were the only person for me, and that’s bigger than any past I might have”.

That sentence fell between them like rain after unbearable heat — still warm, still heavy, but cool enough to soothe what had been burning. JJ lifted his gaze slowly, and there was something new there. A vulnerability mixed with relief, with a kind of quiet gratitude. Like that was all he’d needed.

They stayed like that for a few seconds, breathing the same air, not exactly holding each other, but no longer apart. The fight hadn’t vanished. There was still tension in the corners of their bodies, still fear hanging around, but it had lost its sharp edge. It had turned into nothing more than a trace, a faint shadow on the floor between them.

Net gave a half-smile, tired but real.

“You’re jealous as fuck...” he teased.

JJ’s eyes went wide: “I’m absolutely not!”

“You absolutely are!” Net shot back, properly laughing now. That had been their first argument, and it had been nothing like what Net had imagined. It had left him annoyed, rattled, worried, scared and anxious. It had been a real fight. “I should’ve filmed it”.

JJ ground his teeth, shaking his head.

“Shut up...” he muttered, embarrassed. “That’s not jealousy…”

JJ turned his face away, trying to hide the flush that climbed far too quickly over his ears, but it was impossible to miss. Net watched the way JJ bit the inside of his cheek, how his gaze dropped to the floor, how he gave small, imaginary kicks at nothing.

The argument had left tiny marks in the air, but there, in that moment, it felt like the worst of it was over, and the two of them were just drifting along the soft wake of what they’d crossed together.

“Now…” he tried. “Can I have my shower?”

JJ let out a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sigh, shaking his head: “Yes, you can…” he murmured. “I… I’ll wait here”.

Net smiled, shaking his head too, half disbelieving and half quietly pleased at having got through yet another hurdle. He didn’t know if he’d done it the right way, but he’d done it his way. And that was something, because there’d been a time when he’d been tired of trying, tired of fighting on his own.

But now, with JJ full of fire and stamping his foot, it almost felt like he wasn’t doing it alone, even when he got scared.

He turned back to JJ before actually leaving:

“I liked our first fight, Auan…” he said, with a crooked, sideways smile that lit up his eyes. “Honestly. It’s a bit mad that it happened so fast, but it means we’re actually going somewhere, even if I don’t know exactly where yet. It means we care about each other and, to me, that’s massive”.

JJ lifted his eyes slowly, caught off guard by the honesty.

“Also…” Net went on, lifting an eyebrow as if he could already see the next inevitable mess coming “… as strange as it sounds, I’m looking forward to the next one. I’m curious to find new ways to fight and make up with you”.

He winked, turned away with that natural boldness only Net seemed to carry, and walked towards the bathroom. JJ stayed standing in the middle of the gym, his hands still half-clenched, his heart beating to a rhythm that felt more like relief. Like a quiet peace settling in.

“Hurry up!” he rolled his eyes. “I’ll wait in the lounge”.

And for the first time that night, waiting didn’t feel like a punishment.

It felt like a bridge.

A beginning again.