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Joong paced back and forth across the living room rug, glaring down at his phone screen as if it had personally offended him. Across from him, Dunk lay stretched out comfortably on the sofa, casually scrolling through his feed while taking immense delight in Joong’s dramatic breakdown.
“I’m not overreacting, Dunk,” Joong says, stopping mid-stride. “Like, I’m literally just watching a pattern here. The kid is playing mind games.”
“You’ve been pacing for twenty minutes, Chen,” Dunk replies smoothly, taking a slow sip of his iced coffee. “You’re gonna wear out my carpet.”
“Listen to me!” Joong takes two heavy steps toward the sofa, leaning down until he’s hovering directly over Dunk. “First, the tweet. Almond posts his Macau photo dump, right? You leave one tiny comment calling him a kid, and he replies ‘Yes Daddy’ to you.”
“He’s just giving fans what they want, Chen,” Dunk says calmly, taking a slow sip of his coffee. “You know how fandoms work. Anyone five to eight years older automatically gets assigned as a parent.”
“Then there’s the physical situation!” Joong cuts in, throwing his hands up.
“The physical situation?” Dunk raises an eyebrow, and chuckeld.
“Yes! In Macau!” Joong gestures wildly with his hands. “Why was he all over your shoulder during the game segment like a human backpack?! Why was he slinging his arm around your neck behind the scenes?! He was literally leaning his whole head on your chest while we were waiting for the lift!”
“He was tired, Joong,” Dunk sighs, though his eyes dance with laughter. “He’s eighteen.”
“Bro, I was tired too! Did I drape myself over your neck in front of five thousand fans?!” Joong’s eyes narrow, his Leo Moon possessiveness flaring up in full dramatic force.
“And then you get flustered by that specific word! Whenever that word comes up in a… you know, private context, your ears turn bright red and you choke on your own spit. I know your buttons! So how does Almond know? He’s doing this on purpose to mess with my head!”
Dunk’s cheeks flush slightly, but he wheezes out a laugh. “He doesn’t know my weaknesses, Joong! He’s just a clingy kid using slang...”
“He’s invading my space!” Joong fumed. “And no thanks! We both are already parents of Jaidee! Jaidee is our kid! We filed that emotional paperwork! We don't have space on the family tree for an eighteen-year-old giant!”
Dunk bursts into a fit of laughter. “Joong, Almond is a junior at work! And honestly, the absolute hypocrisy of you sitting here interrogating me about Almond!”
Joong pauses mid-rant, his chest puffed out. “…What hypocrisy?”
“Let’s talk about how you were acting the entire Macau fanfest weekend!” Dunk counters, sitting up straight. “Who was clinging to Pond like a human ivy plant during the live stream? Who spent twenty minutes trying to steal Progress' jacket while hugging him from behind? Who was practically wrestling Fourth and Jimmy backstage, and couldn't stop throwing an arm around Phuwin’s waist every five seconds?”
Joong’s jaw works defensively. “Okay, fine! You know how I am! I’m affectionate with literally everyone, it’s just how I operate! But you?” Joong points a finger right at Dunk’s chest. “You’re super selective, Dunk! You have a tiny, VIP circle of people you actually let cling to you like Force, Perth, Santa, New, Ryu and Pond! I can count them on one hand. So why does Almond get a free pass into your personal space after forty-eight hours in Macau?!”
“Almond isn’t a stranger, Chen!” Dunk reminds him, rolling his eyes fondly. “We literally play football together every week! You and I have both been at the same events with him before!”
“Practically a stranger,” Joong mutters softly, stubbornly turning his head away.
“He’s a junior who looks up to us!” Dunk laughs out loud. “And what about on stage, Chen? When Almond wanted to learn a Chinese greeting for the fans, who eagerly spent ten minutes teaching him word for word with a giant grin? He was clinging to you for help the whole afternoon!”
Joong opens his mouth, closes it, and glares at Dunk, searching for an exit.
“…Because,” Joong mutters, his voice dropping into a low, heavy rumble as he steps into Dunk’s personal space, crowding him back against the sofa cushions, “when I teach him Chinese or mess with Sea, I’m just being a loud, supportive guy. But when Almond clings to you like that, he gets that soft, stupidly cute smile out of you. The one I’m supposed to get.”
PING.
Dunk’s phone screen lights up on his chest. Both of them freeze. Joong’s eyes dart down instantly. Dunk picks up the phone and opens LINE.
LINE Message from: Almond ⚽️
[Attachment: Photo of Almond hugging Dunk’s arm from behind during Macau soundcheck, resting his chin right on Dunk’s shoulder with a huge pout.]
LINE Message from: Almond ⚽️
“Daddy~ my tummy still hurts from that Macau airport food 🥺 look how small and frail i looked in Macau!! u promised u would take care of me! buy me that ridiculously expensive iced matcha latte tomorrow before practice?”
Dunk’s mouth twitches, a soft, indulgent smile already forming. Before he can type, the phone buzzes twice more.
LINE Message from: Almond ⚽️
“also my football boots are still in the back of ur van!! can u carry them to the field for me tomorrow plsss? my hands are gonna be full holding onto my daddy's arm 🫶”
LINE Message from: Almond ⚽️
“ur the best daddy ever phi 🥹 see u tomorrow!!”
Silence drops over the living room like a lead weight. Dunk stares at the screen, a soft, helpless chuckle escaping his lips. Without hesitation, Dunk’s thumbs fly across the keyboard: “
Fine, be at your dorm gate by 4. Bring a jacket.”
Joong watches Dunk’s expression shift in real-time, his jaw literally dropping in sheer betrayal.
“Look at you!” Joong gasps, pointing an accusatory finger at Dunk. “Look at your face! You folded in like four seconds!”
“What?” Dunk looks up, shrugging harmlessly. “He sent a cute picture...”
“He’s clinging to you in the picture! He called you Daddy three more times in private messages!”
“He knows! He literally knows you can’t say no to anyone acting like a spoiled brat!” Joong throws his hands up in sheer disbelief. “What’s next, Dunk?! Did you give him your black card for shopping, too?!”
Dunk offers a suspiciously fast, angelic smile, conveniently skipping the black card question altogether. Instead, he reaches out, tugging gently on Joong’s shirt collar to pull him down into his personal space.
“I’m just a softie for spoiled nongs,” Dunk murmurs, a mischievous smirk playing on his lips as his eyes lock onto Joong’s. “I mean… you’re a nong too, right, Chen?”
A sudden, betraying flush creeps up his neck, his dramatic anger completely derailed by the teasing tone. He clears his throat, struggling to keep his stern expression intact.
“Don’t...don’t try to charm your way out of this,” Joong stammers slightly before straightening his posture, trying to regain control of the room.
“I’m coming to practice tomorrow.”
Dunk blinks, looking up at him in genuine surprise. “What for? You don’t even play football.”
Joong huffs dramatically, turning his head away with a stubborn glare at the wall, completely refusing to answer.
“I have my reasons,” Joong mutters, crossing his arms and huffing again.
****
Joong Archen does not go to football practice. Everyone in GMMTV knows this fact. Joong hates the sweltering heat. He hates bugs. He has zero interest in watching guys chase a ball for two hours.
And yet, there he sat. Right on the sideline bench. Head-to-toe in black, wearing dark designer aviators, looking like a mafia boss on a stakeout.
When Dunk’s van pulled up near the pitch, the side door slid open.
Almond hopped out first in his football kit. He casually sipped a giant iced matcha latte with extra foam. Instead of walking ahead, he reached back into the van. He looped his arm tightly through Dunk’s as Dunk stepped out. Almond naturally rested his head on Dunk’s shoulder as they walked toward the bench. Dunk carried his gear bag over one shoulder. In his free hand, he held Almond’s neon-yellow football boots.
Joong watched Almond’s head resting on Dunk’s shoulder, and his blood instantly hit a rolling boil.
Almond stopped right in front of Joong, pulling back just enough to give Dunk beaming wholesome smile.
“P' Dunk! Thanks for the ride! And the matcha is so good!”
“You owe me,” Dunk said fondly, handing over the football boots.
“Put them on before the coach sees you in slides.”
“Thanks, Daddy” Almond cooed, taking the shoes and casually patting Dunk’s cheek with a soft slap-slap.
A dark, towering shadow immediately fell over them.
Joong stood up from the bench, slowly lowering his aviators to the bridge of his nose, glaring down at Almond with eye-twitching intensity.
Almond didn't flinch. He took another slow, loud sip from his straw. He blinked up at Joong with wide, harmless puppy eyes. He was still standing entirely too close inside Dunk’s personal bubble.
“Phi?” Almond asked, sounding genuinely surprised. “What are you doing here? I didn't know you play”
“I’m observing,” Joong said, his voice dropping an octave, totally deadpan. “Why are you draped all over Dunk, Almond?”
“'Cause my hands were full with the drink he bought me,” Almond explained simply, tilting his head. “Plus, P' Dunk is nice like that. He lets me lean on him.”
Joong took a slow step closer. He lowered his aviators to the bridge of his nose, his voice dropping into a silky, deadly purr.
“And why do you keep calling him that word, Almond? In public on X. In private LINE messages. Three times last night.”
Almond tilted his head. He blinked back with wide, naive puppy eyes.
“Which word, phi?” Almond asked softly. “You have to say it out loud. I don't know what you mean.”
Joong’s jaw tightened. He leaned in closer, his dark eyes locking onto the kid.
“Daddy,” Joong hissed quietly, the word slipping out like a low threat. “You called him Daddy.”
“Because he acts like a dad?” Almond said without guilt, holding his matcha like a shield while slinging an arm loosely around Dunk’s waist.
“He drives me around, buys me food, carries my stuff, and lets me hug him. Isn’t that what daddies do? Why, P' Joong. do you want me to hug you and call you Daddy too?”
Joong froze.
“No thanks!” Joong sputtered, his composure completely shattering. “Like...no! We both are already parents of Jaidee, okay?! Our family unit is closed! Take your arm off his waist!”
“Okay, cool,” Almond smiled sweetly, letting go of Dunk and slinging his cleats over his shoulder. “I’m gonna go warm up. See you later, P'Dunk!”
Almond turned and jogged happily onto the pitch, leaving Joong standing on the sidelines with his jaw slightly open, staring after the eighteen-year-old in utter bewilderment.
“Did you see that?” Joong whispered, his voice laced with pure, unresolved paranoia.
“Did you see his face right before he said that? And he touched your waist, Dunk! He touched your waist right in front of me! He’s playing us. He’s messing with my head on purpose. He knows.”
“He’s an eighteen-year-old kid having the time of his life trolling you,” Dunk wheezed, straightening up and reaching out to adjust the collar of Joong’s black shirt. “And you fell for it. Completely.”
“I didn’t fall for anything!” Joong snorted, though his hands immediately snared Dunk’s waist, pulling him aggressively close right there on the edge of the field, completely unbothered by who might see.
“My territorial instincts were fully justified.”
“Right. Very fierce, very scary,” Dunk teased, leaning up to press his cheek against Joong’s shoulder.
“So, are you gonna sit on the bench and glare at him for two hours, or are you gonna hold my water bottle like a good boyfriend?”
Joong went completely still, his dark eyes snapping down to meet Dunk’s teasing gaze.
“…Boyfriend?” Joong repeated softly, the word hanging heavily in the warm afternoon air.
Dunk raised an eyebrow, a slight flush rising on his neck, but he didn't back down.
“Well? We’re clearing up the situationship status today, aren’t we? Unless you’d rather keep co-parenting Almond with me.”
A slow, triumphant smirk broke across Joong’s face. His Leo Moon jealous streak instantly melted into something intensely warm and satisfied. He tightened his arm around Dunk’s waist, leaning down to whisper right against his ear.
“Boyfriend,” Joong murmured smoothly. “Definitely boyfriend. And I’m taking half of his matcha when practice is over.”
Dunk scoffed. He playfully shoved Joong’s chest and walked onto the field.
Joong sat back down on the bench with an amused sneer. He watched Almond out of the corner of his eye.
Joong wasn't going to trust him. Not for a second.
Gen Z was just too devious.
Then again, Joong was Gen Z too.
He knew the game by heart. He knew exactly what kind of slick moves he would have pulled to get a Phi like Dunk.
Takes a player to spot a player.