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Pond always thought he was good at ignoring comments.
You had to be, in this industry.
People shipped everyone with everyone. They created theories out of a two-second glance, a shared water bottle, a joke taken out of context.
Most of the time, it was harmless.
Funny, even.
So when he first saw a compilation video titled “Proof Gemini and Phuwin are the real couple”, he laughed so hard he nearly dropped his phone.
“Look at this.”
Phuwin glanced up from the couch.
“What now?”
Pond turned the screen toward him.
The video was already playing. Slow-motion edits. Dramatic music. Zoom-ins on Gemini and Phuwin laughing at each other.
Phuwin stared for two seconds before groaning.
“Oh my god.”
“They even added sparkles.”
“They always add sparkles.”
Pond snorted.
“You know what’s offensive?”
“What?”
“If they’re replacing me, they could’ve at least picked someone uglier.”
The pillow hit him square in the face.
“Shut up.”
Pond laughed harder.
That should have been the end of it.
It wasn’t.
⸻
The problem wasn’t one video.
It was hundreds.
Thousands.
A comment here.
An edit there.
A tweet with fifty thousand likes.
Then another.
And another.
At first, Pond rolled his eyes and scrolled past.
But eventually, the words started sticking.
They understand each other better.
Their chemistry feels effortless.
Phuwin seems happier around Gemini.
They’re basically soulmates.
It was ridiculous.
Pond knew it was ridiculous.
He knew Gemini.
He knew Phuwin.
He knew exactly what their relationship was.
The issue wasn’t that he believed the rumors.
The issue was that the rumors accidentally touched something ugly that had already been living inside him.
Something he’d spent years pretending wasn’t there.
⸻
Gemini was cool.
Effortlessly cool.
Funny without trying.
Confident.
Easy to talk to.
The kind of person who walked into a room and immediately belonged there.
Pond wasn’t like that.
He was a twenty-something-year-old man who spent ridiculous amounts of money on anime figures.
Who could spend an hour talking about fictional characters.
Who cried over animated movies.
Who got attached too easily.
Who still felt like an awkward kid trapped inside a body people called attractive.
Most days, Phuwin made him forget all of that.
Most days.
Not lately.
⸻
The worst part was that Phuwin didn’t do anything wrong.
That somehow made it hurt more.
One evening they were eating takeout in Phuwin’s apartment.
Phuwin was halfway through a story.
“And then Gem texted me at three in the morning.”
Pond nodded.
“Why?”
“He saw something that reminded him of me.”
Phuwin laughed.
“He’s so stupid.”
Pond smiled.
A normal smile.
A convincing one.
But something twisted quietly in his chest.
Later that night, he hated himself for it.
Because there was nothing strange about the conversation.
Nothing suspicious.
Nothing worth remembering.
Yet somehow he did.
⸻
After that, he started noticing everything.
Every mention.
Every story.
Every inside joke.
Not because they were inappropriate.
Because they weren’t.
Because they were normal.
And his brain kept whispering:
See?
See how easy this is for them?
⸻
Phuwin noticed the change before Pond realized he was showing it.
He replied slower.
Touched less.
Talked less.
He smiled when he was supposed to smile.
Laughed when he was supposed to laugh.
But something felt off.
And Phuwin knew him too well not to notice.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“You’re lying.”
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
“I’m not.”
Phuwin narrowed his eyes.
Pond smiled.
Phuwin didn’t look convinced.
⸻
The breaking point came after an event.
Pond was back at his apartment.
Still in half of his makeup.
Still wearing clothes he’d been desperate to change out of.
He was sitting on the floor in front of the television, anime playing in the background.
Not watching.
Just staring.
His phone was in his hand.
A mistake.
One more post.
One more comment.
One more stranger explaining why Phuwin belonged with someone else.
The apartment door opened.
Pond didn’t look up.
“Why is it dark in here?”
Phuwin.
Of course.
A moment later the lights came on.
Pond squinted.
“You’re home.”
“I can see that.”
Silence.
Then:
“What’s wrong?”
Pond kept staring at the screen.
“Nothing.”
“You’re still doing that?”
“Doing what?”
“Pretending.”
Pond swallowed.
The anime continued playing unnoticed.
Phuwin crossed the room and sat beside him.
Close enough that their shoulders touched.
Pond didn’t move.
Neither did Phuwin.
Several long seconds passed.
Then quietly:
“Did I do something?”
“No.”
“Are you upset with me?”
“No.”
“Then what is it?”
Pond laughed.
A small, humorless sound.
And suddenly he was tired.
Too tired to keep pretending.
Too tired to keep carrying it.
“Can I ask you something?”
Phuwin nodded.
“Sure.”
Pond stared at the floor.
“Have you ever wondered why you chose me?”
The silence that followed was immediate.
Heavy.
Phuwin blinked.
“What?”
Pond forced a smile.
“There are so many people better than me.”
“Pond—”
“No, seriously.”
He hated how desperate he sounded.
“I mean… look at you.”
Phuwin’s expression changed.
Not confusion anymore.
Understanding.
And somehow that was worse.
Because it meant he’d figured it out.
“It isn’t about Gemini.”
Pond laughed again.
“Of course it isn’t.”
“Then why are we talking about him?”
“Because everyone else is.”
The words escaped before he could stop them.
The room fell silent.
And finally—
Finally—
Pond admitted it.
“I know those comments aren’t true.”
His voice cracked.
“I know they aren’t.”
Phuwin didn’t interrupt.
“I know you’re not in love with him.”
A pause.
“I just…”
Pond looked away.
“I don’t understand why you’re in love with me.”
That hurt more to say out loud than he expected.
The moment the words existed outside his head, they sounded pathetic.
Small.
Embarrassing.
But they were true.
And he was too exhausted to pretend otherwise.
For a second, Phuwin didn’t say anything.
Then he moved closer.
“Pond.”
Pond shook his head.
“Don’t.”
“Look at me.”
“No.”
“Pond.”
Still no.
Then Phuwin sighed softly.
And when he spoke again, his voice changed.
Gentler.
Warmer.
The way it only did when he knew Pond was genuinely hurting.
“Phi.”
Pond froze.
His eyes lifted automatically.
Phuwin almost never called him that.
Not anymore.
Not after all these years.
Not unless he really meant it.
And somehow that single word hurt more than everything else.
Because it felt like being held.
“Phi.”
Phuwin’s hands came up to cup his face.
Careful.
Certain.
As if there had never been any doubt.
“Are you finished?”
Pond’s throat tightened.
“What?”
“Are you done saying terrible things about the person I love?”
Pond almost laughed.
Almost.
“Phuwin—”
“No.”
His grip tightened slightly.
“Now you listen.”
Pond fell silent.
“I didn’t choose you because there wasn’t someone better.”
Phuwin’s eyes never left his.
“I chose you because you’re you.”
The tears arrived before Pond could stop them.
Embarrassing.
Hopeless.
Instant.
“Phi.”
God.
That stupid word again.
“I don’t care about cool.”
Phuwin shook his head.
“I don’t care about effortless.”
A small smile appeared.
“I like the guy who spends forty minutes explaining anime lore.”
“That’s not—”
“It is.”
“It was one time.”
“It was multiple times.”
Pond sniffed.
Despite himself.
“And I liked every single one.”
The smile softened.
“You remember everything.”
“You care about everyone.”
“You make people feel safe.”
Phuwin’s thumb brushed beneath his eye.
“You make me feel safe.”
Pond looked down.
He couldn’t bear looking at him.
Not while hearing things he’d wanted for years.
Not while hearing things he still struggled to believe.
“So what if you met someone better?”
The question escaped before he could stop it.
A final insecurity.
A final wound.
“What then?”
For a moment, Phuwin simply stared at him.
Then he laughed.
Softly.
Fondly.
Like the answer was obvious.
“Then I would’ve spent years looking for you.”
Pond’s breath caught.
“Without realizing it was you I was looking for.”
And that—
That broke him.
Not in a painful way.
In the way ice breaks at the end of winter.
Slowly.
Quietly.
Until suddenly it isn’t there anymore.
Phuwin pulled him forward.
Pond went willingly.
Hiding his face against his shoulder.
Embarrassed.
Relieved.
Loved.
“I hate you.”
Phuwin laughed.
“No, you don’t.”
“I do.”
“You cried all over my shirt.”
“It’s your fault.”
“Sure.”
Silence settled around them.
Comfortable this time.
Warm.
Real.
Eventually Phuwin spoke again.
“You know Gemini would get tired of your robot shows.”
Pond snorted.
“They’re not robot shows.”
“That’s exactly what a robot show fan would say.”
“They have plots.”
“Mhm.”
“They do.”
“Okay, Phi.”
Pond groaned.
Phuwin grinned against his hair.
And for the first time in weeks, the voice in Pond’s head finally went quiet.
Because strangers could say whatever they wanted.
They always would.
But they didn’t know Phuwin.
They didn’t know the way he looked at him.
The way he stayed.
The way he chose him.
Again.
And again.
And again.