Chapter Text
(The idea came from this video, Aou’s gaze looked so unbelievably in love lol)
***
The air in the studio was cool, a stark contrast to the warmth of the lights beating down on them. Aou leaned back in his chair, the script a familiar weight in his lap. He wasn’t really reading it anymore. His focus, as it so often was, was on the man sitting beside him.
Boom was mid anecdote, his hands painting pictures in the air, his voice a comfortable, melodic rhythm that Aou had come to know as well as his own. He was telling a story about a fan encounter from the weekend, embellishing it for comedic effect, and the small crew gathered around was laughing along. Aou watched the way Boom’s eyes crinkled at the corners, the way his smile was a little lopsided, the specific cadence of his laugh that was genuine, not just for the camera.
Three years.
It had been three years since they’d been paired together by GMMTV, two young actors thrust into the bright, chaotic world of Boys’ Love. Three years of shared dressing rooms, late night filming sessions, fan meetings across the country, and a constant, swirling storm of online speculation. They had navigated the rumors that they were secretly dating and the counter rumors that they secretly hated each other.
On camera, their chemistry was easy, a well practiced dance of lingering glances, casual touches, and a foundation of palpable fondness that the fans devoured. But off camera, it was even easier. There were no directors calling "cut," no pressure to perform a certain version of intimacy for the world. There was just Boom, and Aou, and the quiet understanding that had grown between them like the roots of an ancient tree, deep and unshakable.
Boom finished his story with a flourish, earning another round of laughter. His gaze slid to Aou, a silent check in. You good?
Aou responded with a slight nod and a soft smile, one he reserved only for these private, unguarded moments. Boom’s eyes held his for a beat too long, and Aou felt a familiar warmth spread through his chest. He interpreted it as comfort. As safety.
What Aou didn’t know, what he was blissfully, tragically oblivious to, was that for Boom, this feeling was a constant, quiet agony. For Boom, the warmth was a forest fire contained within the fragile glass of his heart.
Boom knew he was in love. He had known for two years, seven months, and approximately sixteen days. It had started with a slow, creeping realization that the person he wanted to text about the stupidest things, the person whose presence could calm a day of frantic schedules, the person he looked for in any crowded room, was Aou. The love had buried itself deep under layers of jokes, of professional camaraderie, of a fierce, protective loyalty. He was Aou’s safe harbor, and he would rather die than disrupt the peaceful waters of their friendship with the storm of his unrequited feelings.
“Five minutes, everyone!” the floor manager called out.
The spell broke. Aou stretched, his joints popping. “I’m starving. After this, you’re buying me kway teow.”
Boom nudged him with his shoulder, a solid, familiar pressure. “You always say that. When are you going to buy me dinner?”
“When you stop stealing my fries,” Aou retorted, his tone light and teasing.
“I’m curating your diet. It’s an act of love,” Boom said, the word slipping out so easily, so coated in layers of jest that it was rendered harmless. It was his specialty.
Aou just laughed, a full, unburdened sound that wrapped around Boom and squeezed. “Sure, sure. Your love tastes a lot like my stolen potatoes.”
They took their positions for the next segment. As the cameras rolled, Aou naturally angled his body towards Boom, his attention fully on him. Boom met his gaze, and the world outside the circle of lights faded away. This was the dance. This was the comfortable chaos they had built together.
For Aou, it was the most real thing in his life.
For Boom, it was a beautiful, heartbreaking lie he would gladly live inside forever, just to be this close.
***
The rehearsal space for the upcoming JASPER fan meeting was a bubble of controlled chaos. Speakers thumped with a bassline that vibrated in your bones, and the polished floor reflected the frantic energy of the dancers running through their routines.
Aou, Joong, Santa, and Pond, the four members of the JASPER project, were taking a break, sprawled on a stack of gym mats in a corner. Santa was out to answer the phone, Joong was sipping an electrolyte drink, Pond was scrolling through his phone, and Aou was… waiting.
Boom wasn’t even in JASPER, but he was here. He was always here. He sat a few feet away, headphones on, ostensibly watching a drama on his tablet, but his eyes kept flicking up to watch Aou. He came to these rehearsals under the guise of having nothing else to do, of just killing time. But the truth was, Aou’s world was his world, and he wanted to be a part of every facet of it, even the ones he wasn't officially invited to.
“I’m just saying,” Joong began, a mischievous glint in his eye as he nudged Aou with his foot. “You have your own life, your own apartment. But you still orbit P'Boom like he’s your personal sun. You’re like his very handsome, very dedicated shadow.”
Pond looked up from his phone, grinning. “It’s true. And, the way you call him? ‘Jelly, is this shirt okay?’ ‘Jelly, what should we eat?’ ‘Jelly, hold my hand, a fan looked at me funny.’” He pitched his voice into a high, whiny imitation of Aou that was completely inaccurate but made Joong snort with laughter.
Aou felt a flush creep up his neck. It was all in good fun, this constant teasing from his friends about his closeness with Boom. “He’s my best friend,” he defended, but it came out weaker than he intended. “It’s comfortable. We look out for each other.”
“After three years, I’d hope so,” Joong said, his tone softening from teasing to something more observational. “Just make sure you’re looking out for yourself, too. Not everything can be ‘AouBoom’ forever.”
The words, though kindly meant, landed on Boom with a subtle weight. He pulled his headphones down, feigning ignorance. “What about it?”
“We’re just admiring your symbiotic relationship,” Pond said.
Boom brushed it off with a practiced ease, a casual shrug of his shoulders. “It’s fine. He’s helpless without me. It’s a full time job.” He aimed for a tone of long suffering amusement, and he must have hit it, because everyone laughed.
Aou, however, looked at him, a faint line of concern between his brows. He moved from the mats and came to sit beside Boom on the floor, leaning his back against the wall. Their shoulders pressed together, a point of contact as natural as breathing.
“They’re just joking,” Aou said, his voice low, for Boom’s ears only. “We’re solid, right?”
Boom’s heart did a painful, familiar squeeze. Solid. What a word. It sounded so strong, so permanent. It sounded like a wall. He looked into Aou’s eyes, so trusting and clear, and he mustered every ounce of his acting skill. He crafted a smile that reached his eyes, a smile that felt like a lie on his own skin. He reached out and squeezed Aou’s knee.
“Always,” Boom said, the word a vow and a prison sentence all at once.
The moment passed. The choreographer called them back to the center of the room, and Aou sprang up with a grin, pulled into the vortex of music and movement. Boom watched him go, the fake smile melting from his face like wax.
Later that night, alone in the silence of his apartment, Boom lay in bed, the blue light of his phone illuminating the weary planes of his face. His thumb hovered over the LINE app. He opened his chat with Aou, an endless scroll of shared memes, location pins, and goodnight messages. His fingers typed out a new message, a raw, unvarnished truth he would never dare send.
I wish we were more than that. I wish I was more than your safe place. I wish I was the reason your heart races, not the thing that slows it down.
He stared at the words, a confession sent into the void. They glowed on the screen, a testament to his quiet desperation. Then, with a sigh that felt like it came from the bottom of his soul, he pressed delete. The screen went blank. The words vanished, swallowed by the digital silence, just like his love, buried deep where no one, especially not Aou, would ever have to see it.
***
The following week, the JASPER rehearsals intensified. New formations were being blocked, and the energy in the room was a mix of focused determination and budding exhaustion. Aou was running through his solo part for the third time, trying to nail a particular spin into a body roll that felt awkward and unnatural on him.
“No, no, Aou, it’s too stiff! You look like a robot trying to seduce a toaster!” the choreographer called out, her voice cutting through the music. The crew around the edges of the room chuckled softly.
Aou flushed, running a hand through his sweat dampened hair. “Sorry, Phi. I’ll get it.”
He tried again, his movements still too sharp, too calculated. Frustration began to bubble under his skin.
“Let me show him.”
The voice was bright, clear, and utterly confident. Aou turned to see Santa detach himself from where he’d been practicing with Joong. Santa, the youngest of their group, was a bundle of seemingly inexhaustible energy. He was all sharp, elegant lines and a smile that could power a small city.
Before Aou could protest, Santa was in front of him. “It’s all in the hips, Phi. You’re thinking too much with your head.” Santa placed his hands on his own hips, demonstrating. “See? It’s a wave. You start here…” He moved with a fluid, innate grace that Aou could only marvel at. “…and let it travel up. Don’t force it. Let it be lazy.”
He then turned to Aou. “Can I?”
Aou, slightly stunned, just nodded. Santa stepped behind him, his presence suddenly very close, very real. He placed his hands lightly on Aou’s hips. Aou froze. The contact was unexpected, intimate. He could feel the heat of Santa’s palms through the thin fabric of his practice shirt.
“Okay, relax, Phi,” Santa murmured, his voice close to Aou’s ear. “Don’t fight me. Just follow.”
Santa guided his hips through the motion, his own body moving in sync. “There. Feel that? It’s a circle, not a square.”
And Aou did feel it. With Santa’s hands guiding him, the movement suddenly made sense. It was no longer a series of steps to memorize but a single, cohesive motion. The tension drained from Aou’s body, replaced by a surprising sense of ease.
“Oh,” Aou breathed out, a laugh of realization escaping him. “Oh, I get it.”
Santa released him, skipping back around to face him, his face split into a brilliant, triumphant grin. “See! You got it! You just needed a little…” He winked. “…sunshine.”
And he was. At that moment, Santa was pure, undiluted sunshine. His energy was warm and infectious. It was the kind of warmth that seeped into your bones after a long, cold night. Aou found himself laughing, a genuine, relieved sound. The frustration of the last hour melted away under the beam of Santa’s smile.
“Thanks, Santa,” Aou said, his tone softening without him even realizing it. “You’re a lifesaver.”
“Anytime, Phi!” Santa chirped, and then, in a move that was entirely his style, he threw his arms around Aou in a quick, tight, uninvited hug. He smelled of fresh sweat, mint gum, and youth. Before Aou could even properly react, Santa had bounced back over to Joong, leaving Aou standing there, slightly off balance, the ghost of the hug and the guidance lingering on his skin.
Boom watched the entire exchange from his usual spot in the corner. He saw the frustration on Aou’s face, the way Santa had confidently intervened, the physical contact, the way Aou had… melted. He saw the laugh, the one that usually took Boom ten minutes of joking to elicit, appear on Aou’s face in an instant because of Santa.
He saw the spark.
It was small, barely a flicker, but Boom had spent three years studying the microexpressions on Aou’s face. He saw the way Aou’s eyes had lit up with surprised gratitude, the way his posture had softened under Santa’s touch. It was a spark of something new, something different from the comfortable, familiar glow Aou reserved for him.
A sharp, acidic sting of jealousy, hot and entirely unwelcome, shot through Boom’s chest. He clenched his jaw, forcing his expression to remain neutral. He pretended it didn’t sting. He pretended that the sight of someone else so easily dismantling Aou’s walls and bringing him such instant joy was just a pleasant observation. He picked up his tablet, focusing on the screen with an intensity it didn’t deserve, the image of Aou’s laughing face, directed at Santa, burned onto the back of his eyelids.
***
The spark, once ignited, refused to be extinguished. It began to manifest in a series of tiny, almost imperceptible shifts, a new pattern weaving itself into the fabric of Aou’s life.
It started after rehearsal a few days later. Everyone was packing up, exhausted and ready to leave.
“Does anyone know if the BTS is running?” Pond asked, checking his phone. “There’s a delay on the line.”
A chorus of groans answered him. The prospect of being stuck in Bangkok traffic after a six hours rehearsal was a special kind of hell.
Aou, without a second thought, looked over at Santa, who was struggling to get his hoodie on over his sweaty head. “I can give you a lift,” Aou offered. “I’m driving right past your condo.”
Santa’s head popped out of the neckhole, his hair adorably mussed. “Really, Phi? You’re the best!” He beamed, that sunshine smile directed fully at Aou, who felt an inexplicable urge to ruffle his hair.
Boom, who was zipping up Aou’s bag for him, a habitual, caretaking task, paused, his fingers stilling on the zipper. Aou hadn’t even checked with him. They usually drove home together, dissecting the day’s events. It was their ritual.
“Oh,” Boom said, keeping his voice carefully light. “I was going to suggest we grab that kway teow.”
Aou looked at him, a flicker of apology in his eyes. “Ah, right. Sorry, Jelly. Next time? Santa’s on the way, and the traffic is going to be a nightmare for him.”
And not for me? Boom thought, but he just nodded, the motion tight. “Sure. No problem. Text me when you get home.”
He watched them leave the studio together, Santa chattering animatedly, Aou listening with a small, attentive smile on his face.
The lifts home became a routine.
Then came the reminders.
Aou would be in the middle of a conversation with Boom when his phone would ping. He’d glance at it, and a fond, exasperated look would cross his face.
“Santa,” he’d say by way of explanation, typing a quick reply. “He forgot to eat lunch again. I told him to order the pad see ew from the place next to his studio.”
Another time, during a joint photoshoot, Boom watched as Aou walked over to Santa, who was fiddling with his lapel mic. The stylist had pinned it awkwardly. Without a word, Aou gently batted Santa’s hands away and fixed it himself, his fingers deft and sure. Santa looked up at him with utter, puppy like trust.
“Thanks, Phi. I’d probably have broken it.”
“You’re a menace,” Aou said, but his voice was warm, dripping with an affection that was new. It wasn’t the brotherly fondness he used when talking about his actual cousins. This was different. More present. More focused.
One evening, Boom was over at Aou’s apartment, watching a movie. Aou was scrolling through his phone, a soft chuckle escaping him.
“What is it?” Boom asked, taking a sip of his beer.
Aou turned the screen towards him. It was a video from Santa: a blurry, chaotic clip of a stray cat chasing its own tail, set to dramatic opera music. It was ridiculous. It was the kind of dumb, funny thing Boom would have sent him.
“He’s like a kid brother,” Aou said, shaking his head as he put his phone down. “So chaotic. You have to keep an eye on him or he’ll accidentally conquer a small country or something.”
But Boom heard it. He heard the way Aou’s tone softened, how it gentled around the edges when he said Santa’s name. It was a tone laced with protective fondness, with a budding sense of ownership. His chaos. His sunshine.
The tiny things were shifting. The tectonic plates of Aou’s attention, once so firmly anchored to Boom, were experiencing a tremor from a new epicenter. And Boom, the ever watchful sentinel, felt the ground move beneath his feet. He said nothing. He just took another long drink of his beer, the bitter taste a perfect match for the feeling curdling in his stomach. He was watching the person he loved start to orbit a new sun, and he was powerless to do anything but watch the light from Aou’s smile reflect on someone else.