Lean against me

An actor who flirts too openly. A model who rejects too easily, but feels too much. Somewhere between cameras, jealousy, calm, and quiet acts of care, TeeTee and Por become something without ever really being nothing.

Notes:

(See the end of the work for notes.)

Work Text:

The first time TeeTee saw him, he heard absolutely nothing the creative director said for the next thirty seconds.

It wasn't his fault.

Well.

Maybe it was.

The Dior campaign had gathered far too many important people in a single Paris studio: actors, singers, influencers, and five models selected specifically for the collection. There were flashes going off, stylists rushing from one side to the other, assistants carrying clothing racks, and people who were far too well dressed pretending they weren't watching one another.

And then there was him.

Por.

Sitting in front of one of the mirrors while a makeup artist finished blending highlighter over his cheekbones.

Legs crossed.

Back straight.

Hair perfectly tucked behind one ear.

A white silk shirt slightly open at the collar and several delicate rings scattered across his fingers.

Beautiful was an inadequate word.

TeeTee had seen him before, obviously.

Everyone had seen him before.

Campaigns in Japan. Italian editorials. Covers. Runway videos with millions of views because people seemed particularly fascinated by the way he walked.

But seeing him on a screen and seeing him less than ten meters away were two completely different experiences.

"Stop staring."

The voice of one of the actors beside him managed to pull him out of his trance.

"I'm not staring."

"You've been staring at him for like a minute."

"Thirty seconds."

"That doesn't make it better."

TeeTee smiled, adjusting his jacket.

"What's his name?"

His colleague laughed.

"Por."

TeeTee repeated the name in his head.

Por.

His colleague looked at him again and shook his head.

"You're screwed."

⸻

Por, for his part, had noticed the looks.

He always noticed them.

Not because he was especially focused on them, but because after enough years, you learned to recognize them.

There were several kinds.

The shy look.

The shameless one.

The assessing one.

The look of someone who wanted to sleep with you.

And then there was that one.

Curious.

Persistent.

Amused.

He lifted his eyes to the mirror and found TeeTee watching him from the other side of the studio.

He didn't look away.

Neither did TeeTee.

Three seconds.

Four.

Five.

Por slowly arched an eyebrow.

TeeTee smiled.

Por simply turned his attention back to the makeup artist.

"Actors are so predictable," he murmured.

She let out a small laugh.

"That one in particular looks interested."

"That one in particular has a camera pointed at him practically every day of his life. He's in love with himself."

"So are you."

Por smiled.

"Yes, but I have reasons."

⸻

The shoot confirmed exactly what Por had expected.

For the actors, this was fun.

A collaboration.

A different kind of morning.

Something to add to their list of campaigns before going back to filming, interviews, and premieres.

For him, it was work.

Angles.

Posture.

Light.

Knowing exactly where to place his chin depending on the lens.

Making a jacket look desirable without letting the clothes wear him instead of the other way around.

The photographer had to correct TeeTee three times.

"Less smiling."

Click.

"Relax your shoulders."

Click.

"Don't look directly at the camera."

Click.

Por, standing two people down, had to suppress an expression.

TeeTee saw him.

"Something funny?"

"Nothing."

"Looked like you were laughing."

"I wasn't laughing."

"Then what?"

Por turned toward him.

"Thinking."

"About me?"

"About how some people land fashion campaigns just because they're famous."

There was a brief silence.

One of the assistants disguised a laugh.

TeeTee stared at him for two seconds.

Then smiled.

Not offended.

Worse.

Interested.

"So you were thinking about me."

Por rolled his eyes.

"Focus on finding your light."

⸻

Weeks later, they ran into each other again.

This time there were no photographers.

No stylists.

No contracts.

Just music that was too loud, low lighting, and one of those private parties where practically everyone in the room had enough followers to fill a stadium.

Por was leaning against the bar talking to a singer when he felt that look again.

He didn't have to search for long.

TeeTee was on the other side.

Drink in hand.

Watching him.

Again.

Por took a sip of his drink.

Ignored him.

Thirty seconds later, TeeTee was standing in front of him.

"You."

"How observant."

"I didn't know you'd be here."

"I didn't know I had to notify you."

TeeTee laughed.

Up close, he was even more attractive.

That was inconvenient.

"You're still unpleasant."

"And you're still talking to me."

"I like challenges."

"Then learn Mandarin."

TeeTee tilted his head, amused.

"Are you always like this?"

"Beautiful?"

"Egocentric."

Por smiled slowly.

"That too."

That should have driven him away.

It had exactly the opposite effect.

TeeTee took a small step toward him.

Then another.

And, with the ease of someone far too used to never being rejected, he slid an arm around Por's waist and pulled him closer.

Por lowered his eyes to the hand.

Then looked at him.

Rolled his eyes.

Caught him by the wrist.

Removed his hand from his body.

"No."

TeeTee blinked.

He didn't look upset.

He looked fascinated.

"No?"

"Do you need subtitles?"

And Por walked away.

⸻

For the next hour, they were both surrounded by people.

Por was offered three drinks.

He accepted two.

TeeTee was probably offered five.

He accepted almost all of them.

At some point, they ended up near each other again.

TeeTee lifted a glass toward him.

"Want some?"

Por looked at the glass.

Then at his face.

"No."

Five minutes later, someone else approached Por with an identical drink.

"Want to try it?"

"Sure."

TeeTee saw.

Of course he saw.

And that time he actually looked slightly offended.

Por hid a smile behind his glass.

Maybe he was having a little fun after all.

⸻

Por went to the bathroom when he needed an escape from the noise.

He washed his hands slowly, watching himself in the mirror as he adjusted one of his rings.

The door opened.

He didn't have to turn around.

He saw TeeTee in the reflection.

"Are you following me?"

"Coincidence."

"Of course."

TeeTee stayed behind him, leaning against a wall.

"I have a question."

"Dangerous."

"Why do you accept drinks from other people but not from me?"

Por raised his eyes to the mirror.

Their gazes met through the reflection.

"Go talk to the people hanging all over you."

TeeTee frowned slightly.

"What?"

"You've got like six people following you around since you got here. Go entertain them."

"I don't want to talk to them."

"Your problem."

TeeTee pushed off the wall.

"Why do you hate me so much?"

Por let out a small laugh and grabbed a paper towel.

"I don't hate you."

"That's worse."

"You're too full of yourself. Everything comes easily to you, you know people like you, and your ego is through the roof."

TeeTee stared at him in disbelief.

"And yours isn't?"

Por opened the door.

"Mine is justified."

"Unbelievable."

Por left the bathroom.

TeeTee followed.

"So that's the problem?"

"There is no problem."

"You just don't like me."

Por kept walking.

"Exactly."

"Why?"

He stopped.

Turned.

TeeTee nearly ran into him.

For the first time, they were close enough for Por to notice a small mark near TeeTee's jaw.

"Because I'm not interested."

Silence.

TeeTee watched him for one second too long.

Then smiled.

Not that public smile that appeared automatically whenever there was a camera nearby.

Another one.

Smaller.

More dangerous.

"Yet."

Por laughed.

"You are definitely too full of yourself."

And he walked away.

TeeTee stayed there, watching him go.

Completely lost.

⸻

After that, Por disappeared.

Not literally.

His face was everywhere.

Tokyo.

Osaka.

Milan.

Rome.

A massive campaign in Japan.

Two editorials in Italy.

A runway show that had his name trending for hours because he had closed the show wearing a piece that looked as if it had been designed specifically for him.

TeeTee saw the posts.

He never liked them immediately.

That would look desperate.

He waited a few hours.

Sometimes a day.

As if that made any difference.

Meanwhile, his own life became airports, hotels, and interviews.

His series had exploded internationally, and the worldwide promotion seemed endless.

And with it came Phrem.

His on-screen partner.

In interviews.

Photocalls.

Events.

Clips.

Lives.

Fans analyzing every touch.

Every look.

Every smile.

It was part of the job.

TeeTee knew that.

Phrem did too.

The problem was that, over time, Phrem seemed to have forgotten where the acting ended.

⸻

Australia was the first time TeeTee saw Por again.

They didn't speak.

It was worse.

Por was arriving at an event while TeeTee was finishing an interview.

Their eyes met through the photographers.

Por was wearing a cream suit.

His hair was slightly longer.

Delicate earrings.

A bored expression while dozens of cameras shouted his name.

TeeTee stopped hearing the question he had just been asked.

Phrem kept talking for both of them.

Por looked at him.

Then at Phrem.

Then back at TeeTee.

And kept walking.

That was it.

Maybe ten seconds.

TeeTee thought about them for weeks.

⸻

Thailand was different.

Because this time they couldn't avoid each other.

The brand had organized a private dinner after an event, and they both ended up at the same table.

Por was calmly talking to a designer while TeeTee tried to ignore the way Phrem kept clinging to his shoulder.

"You should treat me better," Phrem said, loudly enough for several people to hear.

TeeTee smiled awkwardly.

"What?"

"The fans say you've been really cold with me lately."

"We're having dinner."

"You could be sweeter."

TeeTee lowered his gaze to his glass.

"We're not working right now."

The comment seemed to irritate Phrem.

"That's your problem. You should be more possessive of me. Fans like that."

There was a brief silence.

Por looked up.

TeeTee looked uncomfortable.

Really uncomfortable.

His smile was gone.

"I don't think—"

"Maybe if it were mutual, no one would have to deal with being treated indifferently."

Por's voice cut through the conversation.

Everyone looked at him.

He was still sitting calmly.

He didn't even look particularly interested.

Phrem frowned.

"Excuse me?"

Por picked up his glass.

"I said maybe, if it were mutual, no one would have to force anyone to behave a certain way."

"It was a joke."

"Then it should've been funny."

Silence.

TeeTee had to lower his head to hide a smile.

Por went back to his conversation as though nothing had happened.

Five minutes later, he felt a knee brush lightly against his under the table.

He looked to the side.

TeeTee was watching him.

"Thanks," he murmured.

"It wasn't for you."

"Sure."

"He was being annoying."

"Sure."

Por narrowed his eyes.

"Don't start."

TeeTee smiled.

"I haven't said anything."

"Your face talks too much."

"And what's it saying?"

Por turned his attention back to his glass.

"That you're still just as unbearable."

TeeTee leaned slightly toward him.

"But this time you defended me."

"Don't get excited."

"Too late."

Por turned his face to look at him.

Mistake.

Because TeeTee was already too close.

And for the first time since Paris, that look didn't seem playful.

It seemed sincere.

Warm.

Almost vulnerable.

Por felt something strange in his chest.

Something small.

Annoying.

He ignored it.

"Move away."

TeeTee obeyed.

But his smile remained.

Three months passed.

Three months since the last time TeeTee had seen Por.

He'd be lying if he said he hadn't thought about him.

A lot.

Too much.

He had seen the campaigns.

All of them.

The editorials.

The commercials.

The runway videos that kept appearing on his phone even though he insisted the algorithm simply knew too much.

Sometimes he watched one twice.

Or three times.

He would never admit that.

Por was simply…

Beautiful.

There was no other way to say it.

His figure.

The way clothes fell over his hips.

His collarbones showing beneath a shirt that was far too thin.

His eyes.

His lips.

His hair.

Even his hands looked like they had been made for a jewelry campaign.

Everything about him seemed carefully designed to draw attention.

And Por knew it.

Of course he knew it.

That was the problem.

TeeTee would find some new video, watch him walk in front of hundreds of photographers with that expression of absolute indifference, and end up dragging a hand down his face.

"God…"

Because he was still unbearable.

Beautiful.

But unbearable.

And TeeTee still wanted to know what it would be like to have him close without photographers, without sarcastic comments, and without Por looking at him as if he could see exactly what he was thinking.

Maybe one night.

That was what he'd thought at first.

One night with Por.

Nothing complicated.

Nothing serious.

TeeTee had never had much trouble with that kind of thing.

If he liked someone and the interest was mutual, things happened.

A party.

A hotel.

One night.

Sometimes two.

He'd never needed to think much about it.

But then three months passed.

And he hadn't wanted anyone.

Not really.

He had gone out.

He had flirted.

He'd had opportunities.

Plenty.

But he always ended up comparing them to someone who probably didn't even think about him.

That was starting to irritate him.

Because TeeTee knew perfectly well what he wanted.

He wanted Por.

And Por would probably be the first person to say it straight to his face.

⸻

They ran into each other again at a private party in Bangkok.

TeeTee saw him almost the moment he walked in.

Por was across the room.

This time, he wasn't smiling.

He didn't even have that arrogant expression he seemed to use as armor half the time.

He looked tired.

He wore a simple black suit, his hair slicked back, and a glass between his fingers that he had barely touched.

TeeTee almost went over.

He didn't.

Something told him that tonight wasn't the time.

So for the first time since meeting him, he decided not to bother him.

No comments.

No provocative smiles.

No looking for an excuse to get closer.

He simply left him alone.

Although he still glanced over at him from time to time.

That was how he noticed something strange.

Por was talking to three men.

Two of them looked like executives.

The third was showing him something on a phone.

Por nodded, though his expression remained serious.

Then someone switched his drink.

TeeTee frowned.

He didn't think much of it.

Five minutes later, Por was drinking again.

Then another conversation.

Another glass.

TeeTee started paying closer attention.

Por didn't look like he was enjoying himself.

In fact, every time he tried to leave his drink on a table, one of the men would bring it back toward him.

TeeTee felt an odd discomfort settle in his stomach.

But he didn't want to interfere without knowing what was going on.

Por could handle himself.

That much was obvious.

Then he saw him walk toward the bathroom.

A little too slowly.

One hand brushing the wall for a second before he kept going.

TeeTee straightened.

Two of the men followed him.

No.

He didn't like that.

TeeTee set his own drink down on a table.

For a few seconds, he tried to convince himself he was overreacting.

Maybe they were friends.

Maybe they were still talking business.

Maybe—

One of them looked back before entering the hallway.

As if checking whether anyone was watching.

TeeTee started walking.

⸻

Por was dizzy.

Far more than he should have been.

He knew because the floor seemed to shift beneath his feet.

He had agreed to the meeting because the company had been trying to contact him for weeks.

A possible campaign.

A major collaboration.

Nothing strange.

They had asked to meet during the event because several executives would be there.

That was all.

Or that was what it was supposed to be.

Now he could barely focus.

"I think we should talk tomorrow," he murmured.

One of the men smiled.

"You're fine."

"No."

Por tried to move away.

"I need water."

"We can get you water."

A hand settled on his shoulder.

Por removed it.

"Don't touch me."

His voice came out less firm than he wanted.

He tried to walk.

Another man stepped in front of him.

"Relax."

Por looked up.

Something was wrong.

Very wrong.

"Move."

"We're just trying to help you."

"I don't need help."

One of them tried to grab him around the waist.

Por shoved his hand away.

"I said no."

This time, there was a laugh.

Small.

Enough for fear to cut briefly through the fog in his head.

A hand reached for the collar of his shirt.

Por reacted immediately, knocking it away.

"What the fuck are you doing?"

"Calm down."

"Let go of me."

He tried to push him away.
But his body wasn't responding the way it should.

His balance gave out.

One of them moved toward him again.

And then someone grabbed him by the shoulder.

Not Por.

The man in front of him.

He yanked him away so hard he slammed into the wall.

"What the fuck are you doing?"

TeeTee.

Por blinked.

For a second, he wasn't even sure TeeTee was really there.

"This doesn't concern you," one of the men said.

TeeTee looked at him.

Then at Por.

His shirt was more open than it had been before.

His breathing was uneven.

His eyes couldn't focus properly.

Something inside TeeTee snapped.

"I think he just told you to let him go."

"We're talking business."

"Is that how you talk business?"

One of them tried to move toward Por again.

TeeTee shoved him.

"Don't touch him."

"You have no idea who you're talking to."

"And I don't give a fuck."

The man shoved him back.

It was a mistake.

The punch came before TeeTee could think about it.

Sharp.

Direct.

The man fell backward.

"TeeTee!"

Someone shouted from the end of the hallway.

Probably security.

Probably assistants.

He didn't care.

He looked at Por again.

"We're leaving."

Por tried to answer.

Nothing coherent came out.

TeeTee immediately took off his jacket and draped it over Por's shoulders.

"It's okay."

Por weakly lifted a hand.

"I can…"

"I know."

TeeTee softened his voice.

"I know you can walk. Just let me help you, okay?"

Por looked at him for several seconds.

For the first time since TeeTee had met him, there was no arrogance in his eyes.

No sarcasm.

Just exhaustion.

And fear.

Buried deep.

But it was there.

Por nodded.

⸻

The ride was quiet.

Por could barely keep his eyes open.

TeeTee managed to figure out where he lived after checking with him twice that the address was right.

He didn't want to take him to a hotel.

He didn't want to call anyone without his permission.

He didn't want to do anything at all that might make him feel even more out of control.

When they arrived, Por could barely get his shoes off.

"Sit down."

"Don't boss me around."

TeeTee looked at him.

Even half-intoxicated, he was still himself.

"Fine. Please, Mr. Unbearable, could you sit down before you fall?"

Por looked at him through narrowed eyes.

"Idiot."

TeeTee smiled faintly.

"That sounds more normal."

Por dropped onto the edge of the bed.

His shirt was still twisted.

One of the buttons was practically torn off.

TeeTee saw it.

And had to look away.

Not because he wanted to stare.

But because something inside him turned sick.

He thought about Paris.

The party.

His hand around Por's waist.

That stupid, simple idea he had carried for months.

One night.

He had only wanted one night.

As if Por were something he could get.

As if all that beauty existed to be wanted.

TeeTee swallowed.

"Your shirt is…"

Por looked down.

He seemed confused for a second.

Then he tried to button it.

His fingers wouldn't cooperate.

TeeTee stayed still.

"Do you want me to help?"

Por didn't answer right away.

TeeTee waited.

Finally, he nodded.

Only then did TeeTee move closer.

Without touching skin unnecessarily.

Without rushing.

He fixed the shirt enough to cover him.

Then he found a blanket at the foot of the bed and placed it over him.

"Water."

He set a glass on the table.

"Don't drink all of it at once."

Por muttered something unintelligible.

TeeTee couldn't tell if it was an insult.

Probably.

That made him feel a little better.

He waited until Por settled down.

Then he left the bedroom.

He pulled the door almost shut.

And sat on the couch.

Alone.

⸻

He couldn't sleep.

He didn't even try.

He stayed leaning forward, elbows on his knees, hands clasped together.

The scene kept replaying in his head.

Hands on Por.

Por trying to push them away.

That shirt.

His expression.

TeeTee closed his eyes.

He felt sick.

Not because he was like those men.

He knew he wasn't.

He had never forced anyone.

He had never ignored a no.

He had never wanted to hurt Por.

But suddenly he understood something he hadn't wanted to think too hard about before.

Por had been right.

Not about everything.

But about something important.

People looked at him and wanted something.

His face.

His body.

His attention.

His image.

A photo.

A night.

A contract.

A piece of him.

And at first, TeeTee hadn't been completely different either.

He had seen Por and immediately thought about having him.

Not knowing him.

Not understanding him.

Having him.

He dragged both hands over his face.

"Fuck."

He remembered that night months ago.

His hand around Por's waist.

How easily he had assumed he could pull him closer.

Por taking his hand off.

No.

One word.

Simple.

TeeTee had smiled then.

He had thought it was part of the game.

A challenge.

Yet.

That was what he'd said.

Now that word embarrassed him.

Because maybe to him it had been flirting.

But Por had probably heard that same persistence too many times.

From too many people.

TeeTee rested his head against the back of the couch.

For the first time since meeting him, he didn't want to sleep with him.

Well.

Not exactly.

He still wanted him.

That hadn't magically disappeared.

But that night, desire felt small.

Insignificant.

All he wanted was for Por to wake up and know he was safe.

That no one had crossed that door.

That no one had touched him after he fell asleep.

That his boundaries still belonged to him.

TeeTee looked toward the dark hallway.

And felt something worse than guilt.

Affection.

Something he hadn't asked for.

Something he could no longer reduce to one night.

⸻

Hours later, he heard footsteps.

He immediately lifted his head.

Por stood at the end of the hallway, wrapped in the blanket.

Hair messy.

Eyes tired.

Pale.

But awake.

TeeTee stood up.

"Hey."

Por watched him.

Then looked around.

"What are you doing here?"

There was no sarcasm in the question.

That worried TeeTee more than any insult could have.

"I brought you home."

Por frowned.

Clearly trying to remember.

Little by little, something changed in his expression.

"The party."

TeeTee nodded.

Por went still.

"They…"

"No."

TeeTee answered immediately.

"Nothing happened."

Por looked at him.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

TeeTee kept some distance between them.

"I got there before anything happened."

Silence.

Por pulled the blanket tighter around himself.

TeeTee felt his chest tighten.

"I punched one of them."

Por blinked.

"What?"

"He shoved me."

Pause.

"Well… technically, I shoved him first."

Por stared at him for several seconds.

And to TeeTee's surprise, he let out a weak laugh.

Tiny.

"Idiot."

TeeTee looked down.

"Yeah."

Por seemed to notice something.

"Why are you sitting out here?"

"I didn't want to leave while you were like that."

"You could've slept in the other room."

"I didn't want to go into any room without asking you."

Por stopped speaking.

TeeTee slowly lifted his eyes.

Por's expression was hard to read.

"TeeTee."

"Yeah?"

"Come here."

TeeTee hesitated.

Por rolled his eyes.

Even exhausted.

"I'm not going to bite you."

TeeTee moved closer.

Slowly.

He stopped a few steps away.

Por watched him.

"Closer."

One more step.

Por lifted a hand.

For a second, TeeTee thought he was going to touch his face.

Instead, Por gently took hold of the sleeve of his shirt.

Nothing more.

"Thank you."

TeeTee felt those words hurt in a ridiculous way.

"You don't have to thank me."

"Yes."

"No."

His voice came out firmer.

"You shouldn't have to thank someone for respecting a no."

Por looked at him.

For a long time.

Too long.

And for the first time since they had met, TeeTee was the one who looked away first.

"Go back to sleep," TeeTee murmured.

Por didn't let go of his sleeve.

"You too."

"I'm fine out here."

"I didn't ask."

TeeTee almost smiled.

"There you are."

"What?"

"The ego."

Por arched an eyebrow.

"My ego never left."

"Thank God."

This time, Por actually smiled.

Barely.

But it was enough.

And in that moment, TeeTee understood that he was completely gone.

Because he didn't want to win anymore.

He didn't want to get one night.

Or prove anything to him.

He just wanted Por to look at him like that again.

Even if he had to wait.

Even if it took another three months.

Even if Por never ended up wanting him the same way.

And that possibility…

That was the first one that genuinely scared him.

After that night, TeeTee started accepting campaigns he normally would have turned down.

Not all of them.

Only the ones with one particular name on the list.

Por.

At first, he tried to convince himself it was coincidence.

A campaign in Seoul.

Another in Bangkok.

A special shoot in Singapore.

A collaboration for a French maison.

Another brand dinner.

Another group cover.

Another appearance.

Too many coincidences.

Even his manager started getting suspicious.

"Your schedule is impossible."

"I can do it."

"You have filming."

"I can do it."

"An interview the next day."

"I can do it."

"And an overnight flight."

"I can do it."

His manager stared at him.

"Por's going too, isn't he?"

TeeTee didn't answer.

"Oh my God."

"Shut up."

"You're sick."

"Not yet."

⸻

The worst part was that all that effort barely gave him any time to talk to him.

Sometimes they overlapped for twenty minutes.

Sometimes five.

Sometimes he only saw him cross a hallway surrounded by stylists.

But to TeeTee, it seemed like enough.

Por greeted him with a small nod.

Sometimes with a tiny smile.

Not that perfect smile for cameras.

Another one.

Almost invisible.

The kind that reached his eyes first.

And TeeTee would think about it for hours.

He wanted his number.

That was all.

A number.

Something completely normal.

He had gotten people's numbers practically without trying his whole life.

Flirting came easily to him.

He knew what to say.

He knew when to smile.

He knew exactly how to make someone interested.

But every time he looked at Por, his brain seemed to shut down.

"Just ask him," one of his friends murmured during a campaign.

TeeTee was watching from a distance while a stylist adjusted Por's trousers.

"Ask him what?"

"For his number."

"I don't want his number."

His friend looked at him.

"You've been staring at him for fifteen minutes."

"I'm thinking."

"About him?"

TeeTee slowly turned.

"I hate you."

⸻

Por started noticing things.

Small things.

So small that at first he thought they were accidents.

One morning, he felt someone gently tug at his trousers.

He looked down.

TeeTee was crouched in front of him.

"What are you doing?"

"Your shoelaces."

Por looked at his shoes.

One was untied.

"I can do it myself."

"I know."

TeeTee finished tying the knot.

Stood up.

"Done."

Por looked at him.

"Thanks."

TeeTee froze for half a second.

As if that one word were enough to ruin his day.

Or make it.

Por wasn't sure.

Another time, before a shoot, TeeTee walked over without saying anything and fixed the collar of his shirt.

"It's folded."

"I have stylists."

"There weren't any nearby."

"How efficient."

"I'm a helpful person."

Por arched an eyebrow.

"You."

"Yes, me."

"Helpful."

"Don't ruin my reputation."

Por smiled.

Small.

With his eyes.

TeeTee completely lost track of what he'd been about to say.

⸻

That started happening too often.

TeeTee thought he was being subtle.

Por thought TeeTee was very bad at subtle.

He wasn't flirting the way he usually did.

That was the strange part.

There were no comments about his body.

No innuendos.

He never touched him again without permission.

He simply appeared.

Brought him water.

Told him when he had makeup on his collar.

Moved a chair.

Saved him a seat.

Picked something up when Por dropped it.

And then acted as if it were nothing.

Por still thought he was an idiot.

A pleasant idiot.

Which was worse.

⸻

The next campaign was different.

TeeTee didn't show up.

Por noticed immediately.

He didn't ask.

Not at first.

It seemed logical.

TeeTee took on too much work.

Filming.

Advertising.

Promotion.

Events.

Flights.

It had only been a matter of time.

During a break, Por overheard a conversation on the other side of the dressing room.

He recognized the voice before he saw the face.

Phrem.

"Can you believe we stopped being an on-screen pair because he was obsessed with that model?"

Por stopped looking at his phone.

Someone else laughed.

"With Por?"

"Yes. I mean, please. I'm way cuter."

Por slowly turned his head.

Phrem kept talking.

"Now the asshole got sick and who's going to take care of him? No one. Because the model doesn't even pay attention to him."

Por set his phone down on the table.

"His life is honestly pathetic," Phrem continued. "And you know the worst part? He lived with his grandmother. When I went there once, the woman was literally dressed in rags and said they were expensive outfits from Paris. Not even close. And his mom…"

He paused.

"I think the old woman's dead already. So now he gets to be alone."

Por felt something icy slide down his spine.

Phrem laughed.

"And good. Something bad finally happened to him. Imagine breaking a contract with me. Me. I'm Phrem."

Por stood up.

He didn't make a scene.

That was the worst part.

When he was truly angry, he spoke less.

He walked past Phrem.

Phrem looked at him.

"Oh."

Por stopped.

"What?"

"Nothing."

Por held his gaze.

"Perfect."

And kept walking.

Phrem didn't know why, but the way Por had looked at him left him uneasy.

⸻

It took Por four hours to get TeeTee's address.

Four.

He had to call two managers.

A makeup artist.

A photographer.

An assistant.

And finally a stylist who worked with both of them.

"What do you need it for?"

"None of your business."

"That sounds suspicious."

"Thanks."

He hung up.

He bought medicine.

Electrolytes.

Fruit.

Ginger.

Garlic.

Herbs.

Vegetables.

A few spices his grandmother always used when someone was sick.

And ended up standing in front of a door wondering what the hell he was doing.

He knocked.

Nothing.

He knocked again.

He heard footsteps.

Slow ones.

The door opened just a little.

And TeeTee appeared.

Por stared at him.

He was almost unrecognizable.

Dark circles under his eyes.

His face completely flushed.

Watery eyes.

Hair sticking out in every direction.

An old T-shirt.

And that miserable expression that made him look like an abandoned dog left in the rain.

TeeTee blinked.

"Por."

Silence.

Then he tried to hide behind the door.

Por frowned.

"What are you doing?"
"Nothing."

"You're hiding."

"No."

"I can see you."

TeeTee opened the door a little wider.

"I'm not presentable."

Por looked him up and down.

"I noticed."

"Thanks."

Por gently pushed the door and walked in.

TeeTee watched him, still processing the fact that he was actually there.

"What are you doing at my house?"

Por set the bags down in the kitchen.

"I heard you were sick."

"And?"

"And that you were alone."

TeeTee blinked again.

"You felt sorry for me?"

Por looked at him.

"Yes."

TeeTee put a hand over his chest.

"That hurts."

"Don't get used to it."

"So this doesn't mean you care about me?"

Por walked closer.

He put a hand on TeeTee's neck.

TeeTee went completely still.

The hand was cold.

Pleasant.

Por frowned.

Then placed the other one on his forehead.

"You're burning up."

"I'm fine."

"You're an idiot."

He pulled out the thermometer he had bought.

A few minutes later, he looked at the screen.

39.0.

Por raised his eyes.

"Bed."

TeeTee smiled weakly.

"So bossy."

"TeeTee."

"I'm going."

⸻

Por took control of the kitchen as if he lived there.

From the bedroom, TeeTee could hear sounds.

Cabinets.

Water.

A pot.

A knife against a cutting board.

Por in his house.

Por cooking for him.

Maybe he really was delirious.

When Por appeared with a plate, TeeTee pushed himself upright.

"What is it?"

"Food."

"I can see that."

Por sat on the edge of the bed.

He brought a spoonful toward him.

TeeTee grimaced.

"No."

Por looked at him.

"What?"

"I'm not hungry."

Por gave him a light smack on the forehead.

"Ow!"

"Eat."

"That was violence."

"I can do it again."

TeeTee opened his mouth.

Por put the spoon in.

"Good."

TeeTee swallowed.

"It's good."

"I know."

"You're still egotistical even when you cook."

"Eat."

⸻

Then came the pills.

More water.

And damp cloths.

Por wiped his forehead.

His neck.

His arms.

Always with careful movements.

Without thinking too much about it.

TeeTee barely talked.

That was unusual.

He just watched him.

Tired.

Eyes heavy.

"What?" Por asked.

"Nothing."

"Stop staring at me."

"I can't."

Por pressed the cloth a little harder against his forehead.

"Go to sleep."

TeeTee smiled faintly.

"Yes, sir."

⸻

Hours later, the fever had gone down a little.

Por cleaned everything up.

Washed what he had used.

Organized the medication.

Left water beside the bed.

A note with the times.

Then picked up his bag.

"I'm leaving."

TeeTee opened his eyes.

"Already?"

"I have work early."

"Oh."

Por turned.

He didn't even make it two steps.

A hand wrapped around his wrist.

"TeeTee."

The actor tugged gently.

Por lost his balance and fell onto the bed.

"What the hell…?"

TeeTee hugged him.

Not tightly.

Just enough.

Por went completely still.

"TeeTee."

He didn't answer.

Por felt something wet against his neck.

It took him a few seconds to understand.

Tears.

His expression changed.

"Hey."

TeeTee gripped his shirt slightly.

Por pulled back just enough to look at him.

His eyes were closed.

Tears were running down his cheeks.

"What's wrong?"

Nothing.

Por wiped one away with his thumb.

Then another.

"TeeTee."

"Don't go."

His voice broke.

Por felt something in his chest.

Something uncomfortable.

Too human.

"I'm here."

TeeTee opened his eyes.

"Just for a little while."

Por hesitated.

Then sighed.

"Only until you fall asleep."

TeeTee immediately closed his eyes.

As if he had been waiting for permission.

Por slowly ran his fingers through his hair.

Once.

Again.

He didn't understand why TeeTee was crying.

He knew nothing about what Phrem had said about his mother.

Or about his grandmother.

Or about how alone he felt.

But he didn't ask either.

Not that night.

He simply kept stroking his hair until TeeTee's breathing became slow.

⸻

At seven in the morning, Por was still there.

That had not been part of his plans.

He had modeling early.

He couldn't go back home.

He looked at his own clothes.

Then the closet.

Then at TeeTee sleeping.

"You've got to be kidding me."

He opened the wardrobe.

TeeTee had far too many clothes.

Por found a pair of black trousers.

A white T-shirt.

An oversized jacket.

He got dressed.

It looked far too good on him.

Por looked at himself in the mirror.

"Obviously."

Before leaving, he prepared something light.

Left fruit.

Water.

Medication.

And three notes.

The first was stuck to the glass.

"WATER. ALL OF IT."

The second was on the pills.

"8:00 A.M. DON'T BE STUPID."

The third was in the kitchen.

"Food in the fridge. Heat it up.

Don't take any work this week.

And no, this is not happening again.

—Por"

⸻

TeeTee woke up around nine.

For a few seconds, he didn't know where he was.

Then he remembered.

Por.

The soup.

The hand on his forehead.

The hug.

The tears.

He sat up abruptly.

"Fuck."

He looked around.

Empty.

He went still.

Maybe it had been a dream.

A fever dream.

An overly elaborate one.

Then he saw the note.

"WATER. ALL OF IT."

He picked it up.

The handwriting was unmistakably Por's.

TeeTee smiled.

He found the second.

Then the third.

He read it twice.

Three times.

"This is not happening again."

TeeTee let out a small laugh.

"Sure."

He took a picture.

Not to post.

Never.

Just for himself.

Then he noticed something.

His wardrobe was open.

He slowly got up.

A pair of trousers was missing.

A T-shirt.

And a jacket.

TeeTee stared at the empty space.

Then smiled in an absolutely ridiculous way.

"He took my clothes."

And for the first time in two days, he completely forgot he was sick.

At seven forty-five, Por walked into the studio wearing dark sunglasses, his hair tied back any way he could manage, and clothes that clearly weren't his.

His manager saw him from across the room.

"I don't even want to ask."

"Then don't."

"Did you sleep at all?"

Por set his bag on a chair.

"Enough."

The lead stylist appeared shortly afterward with a huge folder in her hands.

"You're right on time."

Por looked around.

There were more people than usual.

Editors.

Photographers.

Assistants.

Two creative directors who usually weren't present at ordinary shoots.

"What is all this?"

His manager smiled.

"Surprise."

Por narrowed his eyes.

He didn't like surprises.

The stylist opened the folder.

"Vogue Korea wants to turn the editorial into a cover."

Por blinked.

"Today?"

"Today."

That woke him up completely.

The shoot was already important.

This made it one of the biggest of his career.

"Fine."

The stylist looked him up and down.

Then did it again.

"Whose jacket is that?"

Por looked down.

He had forgotten he was still wearing TeeTee's clothes.

"Borrowed."

"Designer?"

"No idea."

"Let me see it."

Por let her check the label.

Her eyebrows rose.

"This is vintage."

"Is it?"

"And pretty rare."

Por shrugged.

"I found it."

His manager laughed.

"Sure."

The stylist kept looking at the piece.

Then looked at Por.

"Don't take it off."

Por frowned.

"We have nine looks prepared."

"Now we have ten."

"No."

"Por."

"I'm not going on a cover wearing clothes I borrowed because I didn't have time to go home."

The stylist smiled.

"That's exactly why it works."

⸻

Two hours later, the concept had changed.

The perfectly pressed clothes stayed hanging on the racks.

TeeTee's jacket did not.

Por stood in front of a gray backdrop, his collar slightly open, his hair slicked back, and the garment falling oversized around his shoulders.

"Don't pose," the photographer said.

Por arched an eyebrow.

"Excuse me?"

"That. Exactly that."

Click.

"Look at me like I'm wasting your time."

"That doesn't require acting."

Click.

The photographer smiled behind the camera.

"Perfect."

Por tilted his head just slightly.

Click.

He brought two fingers to his jaw.

Click.

The jacket slipped slightly off one shoulder.

Click.

The photographer stopped shooting.

"We have the cover."

The studio went silent for a few seconds.

Por turned toward the monitor.

The image appeared huge.

Dark.

Minimalist.

He took up nearly the entire frame.

Nothing competed with his face.

The jacket added something strange to the image.

Something intimate.

As if it didn't fully belong to the styling.

As if there were a story behind it.

Por stared at it.

"That one."

The editorial director nodded.

"That one."

⸻

The cover came out weeks later.

And for several hours, no one talked about anything else.

Por was used to going viral.

Comments about his face didn't surprise him.

Neither did edits.

Or accounts compiling every photograph.

What he hadn't expected was the interest in the jacket.

Someone found an old photo of TeeTee wearing it.

Then another.

Then an interview from years earlier where he had mentioned it was a special piece he'd kept for a long time.

The posts started multiplying.

Why is Por wearing TeeTee's jacket?

This wasn't part of the official styling.

He wore it arriving at the studio too.

I need an explanation immediately.

Por read three posts.

Closed the app.

Opened it again.

Read five more.

"Idiots," he muttered.

His manager was sitting across from him.

"You've been reading the idiots for twenty minutes."

"I'm seeing what they're making up."

"Of course."

Por set his phone face down.

"Nothing happened."

"I didn't say anything."

"Your face did."

"I learned from you."

Por glared at him.

His phone buzzed.

A message from an unknown number.

So my jacket makes it into Vogue before I do?

Por went still.

Another message.

I'm a little offended.

Por looked at the number.

He smiled without meaning to.

It lasted less than a second.

But his manager saw it.

"Who is it?"

"No one."

Por typed:

Your jacket has more talent in front of a camera.

The reply came almost immediately.

Then you should give it back and teach me.

Por:

Don't push your luck.

TeeTee:

I have your number. My luck already got a lot better.

Por stopped typing.

Looked at the screen.

Then locked his phone.

Unlocked it again.

TeeTee was typing once more.

Are you busy today?

Por read the message twice.

Three times.

His manager was still watching him.

"No one, huh?"

Por looked up.

"Shut up."

He went back to the chat.

Typed:

Yes.

Deleted it.

Typed something else.

Depends.

Deleted that too.

Finally:

Why?

The reply took a few seconds.

I want to take you out to eat.

Por leaned back in his chair.

There it was.

What TeeTee had been trying to do for months.

Por expected a restaurant.

Not because TeeTee had said so.

In fact, TeeTee had been suspiciously vague.

I'll pick you up at one.

That was all.

Por had replied:

I can get there myself.

TeeTee:

No.

Por:

No?

TeeTee:

I don't know how to explain where it is.

Por nearly canceled just because of that.

But at twelve fifty-eight, when TeeTee's car appeared in front of the building, Por came downstairs.

TeeTee watched him get in.

Then looked at his clothes.

"You look pretty."

Por closed the door.

"Don't start."

"It was a compliment."

"With you, I never know."

TeeTee smiled.

"I'm learning."

That made Por look at him for half a second longer than necessary.

"Where are we going?"

"To eat."

"I know that already."

"Then trust me."

Por let out a laugh.

"Absolutely not."

⸻

Twenty minutes later, Por began to get suspicious.

They weren't entering any particularly exclusive area.

There were no hotels.

No restaurants with impossible reservations.

Nothing.

The car stopped in front of a quiet house.

Por looked out the window.

Then at TeeTee.

"What is this?"

TeeTee unbuckled his seat belt.

"The place where we're eating."

"This is a house."

"Correct."

"TeeTee."

"Por."

"Whose?"

TeeTee opened the door.

"Come on."

Por didn't move.

"Are you kidnapping me?"

TeeTee laughed.

"Yes. In broad daylight. In my own car. Excellent plan."

"With you, I don't rule anything out."

TeeTee got out.

Por eventually followed him.

The front door opened before they could knock.

An older woman appeared immediately.

"You made it!"

TeeTee smiled in a way Por had never seen before.

Not the interview smile.

Not the flirtatious one.

Not the one he used when he wanted to drive Por insane.

Something completely different.

"I told you I'd come."

The woman lightly smacked his arm.

"You said that an hour ago."

"I'm on time."

"You're never on time."

Then she looked behind him.

At Por.

She went quiet.

For the first time in a long time, Por felt like he was the one being inspected.

TeeTee cleared his throat.

"Grandma, this is Por."

The woman's eyes widened.

"This is Por?"

Por slowly turned toward TeeTee.

"This?"

TeeTee was already regretting everything.

"It doesn't mean anything."

"Mm-hm."

His grandmother completely ignored the exchange.

She walked over to Por and looked him up and down.

With absolutely no discretion.

"You're very handsome."

Por smiled.

"Thank you."
"Much more than in the pictures."

TeeTee closed his eyes.

"Grandma."

"What?"

"Nothing."

She gently took Por by the arm.

"Come in. Everything's ready."

Por let her lead him inside.

But before crossing the doorway, he leaned slightly toward TeeTee.

"Pictures?"

"Shut up."

⸻

The first surprise was in the living room.

It took Por about eight seconds to realize it.

His grandmother was wearing an irregular black skirt, an oversized cardigan with visible stitching, and a blouse that looked as though it had been deliberately cut apart and reconstructed.

Phrem would have called them rags.

Por stared.

Then recognized the cut.

"Is that Comme des Garçons?"

The woman looked down at her own clothes.

"This?"

"Yes."

"I think so."

TeeTee set his keys on a table.

"Don't ask her. She owns clothes she doesn't even know what they are."

The woman glared at him.

"Of course I know."

"Last week you called a Margiela coat 'the gray one.'"

"Because it's gray."

Por burst out laughing.

TeeTee looked at him.

It was the first time he had heard Por laugh like that.

Without holding back.

"What?"

Por shook his head.

"Nothing."

He looked at the woman's clothes again.

Now he understood.

She wasn't wearing "rags."

She was wearing pieces that probably cost more than many people's monthly salary.

And she didn't seem to care at all.

No logos.

No showing off.

Just clothes she liked.

Por felt a flicker of irritation remembering Phrem's words.

They hadn't only been cruel.

They had also been stupid.

⸻

The food was laid out on a small table.

No chefs.

No catering.

Nothing elaborate meant to impress him.

Rice.

Soup.

Slow-cooked meat.

Vegetables.

Several things Por didn't recognize.

And it smelled incredible.

"Sit," his grandmother ordered.

Por obeyed.

TeeTee sat across from him.

"I told you it was food."

"You left out a few details."

"If I'd told you we were coming here, you would've said no."

"Correct."

"That's why I didn't tell you."

Por arched an eyebrow.

"That's called manipulation."

His grandmother added more food to Por's plate.

"Eat before you argue."

Por smiled.

"Yes, ma'am."

TeeTee opened his mouth.

"Why do you listen to her?"

"Because I like her."

"You just met her."

"And she's already above you."

His grandmother laughed.

"I like him."

TeeTee let his head fall back.

"Excellent."

⸻

The meal ended up lasting almost two hours.

Por learned things.

Small things.

TeeTee had hated a certain vegetable since he was a child.

His grandmother still cooked it just to annoy him.

He had broken a window when he was nine and blamed a cousin.

He had learned to cook because his mother used to say no one should grow up depending on another person just to eat.

That made TeeTee go a little quieter.

Por noticed.

He didn't ask.

His grandmother changed the subject effortlessly.

Por appreciated that too.

After they ate, TeeTee disappeared into the kitchen to take the plates.

The woman looked at Por.

"He's different with you."

Por nearly choked on his water.

"Excuse me?"

"TeeTee."

"I don't think so."

"I do."

Por set the glass down.

"We're just…"

He stopped.

He didn't know what they were.

Acquaintances didn't sound right.

Friends still sounded like too much.

"We know each other."

The woman smiled.

"Of course."

Por already hated that phrase when TeeTee said it.

Now he hated it when she said it too.

"He talks a lot," the woman continued. "But when someone really matters to him, he turns stupid."

Por let out a small laugh.

"That would explain a lot."

"See?"

"I didn't say I matter to him."

"Neither did I."

Por looked at her.

The woman was smiling.

Cleverly.

Now he understood where TeeTee got certain things from.

⸻

Before they left, his grandmother disappeared into another room.

Por was putting on his jacket when she came back.

She was carrying something.

A bag.

"This is for you."

Por looked at it.

"What?"

"Take it."

It was a Birkin.

But not one Por had seen recently.

The body was made of ecru canvas, beautifully aged, and the brown leather had developed a deep patina along the edges and handles.

The gold hardware had tiny marks on it.

It didn't look new.

It looked lived in.

Por stopped breathing for a second.

"No."

The woman frowned.

"You don't like it?"

"No, that's not it."

Por took it with extreme care.

Looked at the leather.

The fabric.

The stitching.

"This is Hermès."

"Yes."

TeeTee came back from the kitchen.

He stopped.

"Grandma."

"What?"

"You're giving him that?"

"I don't use it."

TeeTee looked at Por.

Por was still completely stunned.

"It's a vintage Birkin," he murmured.

His grandmother shrugged.

"I bought it many years ago."

Por held it as if it might break.

"I can't accept this."

"Why not?"

"Because…"

Por looked at TeeTee.

Then at her.

"Because this is worth a lot."

"And?"

"And I came here for lunch."

"Then you ate lunch and you're taking home a bag."

The woman's logic was impenetrable.

TeeTee started laughing.

Por shot him a look.

"Don't laugh."

"I told you you weren't going to convince her."

His grandmother touched the bag.

"I don't use it anymore. And you're a model."

Por blinked.

"Yes."

"Then use it."

"But—"

"If you ever have to pose with a bag, use that one. It suits you."

Por looked at the Birkin again.

The canvas.

The darkened leather.

The visible age of the piece.

It was beautiful precisely because it wasn't perfect.

"Ma'am…"

"Don't call me ma'am."

Por smiled.

"Thank you."

This time his voice came out much quieter.

His grandmother touched his cheek.

"You're welcome, handsome."

⸻

When they left the house, Por was hugging the Birkin against his chest.

TeeTee walked beside him.

Neither of them spoke for a few seconds.

Por finally stopped.

"I'm annoyed with you."

TeeTee stopped too.

"Why?"

"Because you didn't tell me."

"Tell you what?"

"Any of this."

Por gestured toward the house.

"This."

TeeTee put his hands in his pockets.

"Would you have come?"

Por stayed quiet.

"Exactly."

"I thought you were inviting me to some stupid thing."

"What a flattering opinion you have of me."

"You earned it."

TeeTee smiled.

Por looked down at the bag.

"I didn't bring anything."

"What?"

"For her."

"Por…"

"I came empty-handed."

"We invited you to lunch, not a wedding."

Por glared at him.

"You don't understand."

And it was true.

What bothered him wasn't really that he hadn't brought a gift.

It was that he had gone there prepared for something superficial.

A restaurant.

Flirting.

Maybe TeeTee trying to impress him again.

Something he could easily reject.

Instead, TeeTee had introduced him to his grandmother.

He had eaten his family's food.

He had listened to stories from when TeeTee was a child.

He had seen photographs sitting on furniture.

Shoes by the entrance.

A jacket thrown over a chair.

A house where TeeTee didn't look like a celebrity.

Just TeeTee.

And that felt too intimate.

Much more than an expensive dinner.

Much more than flirting at a party.

Por looked up.

TeeTee was watching him.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"You're staring."

"You always say everyone stares at you."

"Because everyone does."

TeeTee smiled.

But this time, Por didn't roll his eyes.

"Thank you," he said.

TeeTee's smile faded a little.

"For what?"

"For bringing me."

"I thought you were annoyed."

"I can be annoyed and still thank you."

"Oh."

TeeTee looked like he didn't know what to say.

Por almost smiled.

It was strange.

Watching someone who could flirt with an entire room go speechless in front of him.

"And tell your grandmother I'll be back."

TeeTee's eyebrows rose.

"You're coming back?"

"I have to bring her something."

"You don't have to—"

"TeeTee."

"Yes."

"I'm bringing her something."

"Understood."

Por started walking toward the car.

TeeTee followed.

"So can I invite you again?"

Por didn't turn around.

"Don't push it."

"That wasn't a no."

Por opened the car door.

Before getting in, he looked at him.

"It wasn't a yes either."

TeeTee rested one hand on the roof.

"Yet."

Por went still.

The same word.

Months ago.

In that hallway.

When TeeTee still thought Por was nothing more than another challenge.

Por should have hated it.

Instead, a tiny smile appeared at the corner of his lips.

"You're still far too full of yourself."

He got into the car.

TeeTee closed the door.

But Por caught him smiling before he walked around the vehicle.

And for the first time, it didn't bother him.

The drive back was much quieter than the drive there.

Por had the Birkin resting on his lap, one hand on the aged brown leather.

TeeTee drove.

Por glanced at him from the corner of his eye.

"What?"

TeeTee didn't look away from the road.

"Nothing."

"You've been weird for ten minutes."

"I'm thinking."

"Dangerous."

TeeTee let out a small laugh.

Then silence returned.

Por looked down at the bag.

"I still don't understand why you took me there."

TeeTee tightened his hands slightly around the steering wheel.

"I wasn't going to."

Por turned toward him.

"What?"

"I had a reservation."

"Where?"

"A restaurant."

Por arched an eyebrow.

"So what happened?"

TeeTee took a few seconds.

"They were waiting for us."

"Who?"

"Photographers."

Por's expression changed slightly.

TeeTee continued.

"Since the jacket thing, they've been watching too closely."

Por stopped playing with the Birkin's handle.

"That's nothing new for me."

"I know."

"Then?"

TeeTee took a deep breath.

"I didn't want to drag you into my problems."

Por frowned.

"What problems?"

TeeTee went silent.

Por watched him.

"Phrem."

It wasn't a question.

TeeTee smiled without humor.

"Yeah."

"What really happened between you two?"

TeeTee looked straight ahead.

"It doesn't matter."

"If it didn't matter, you wouldn't be talking about it."

TeeTee slowly exhaled.

"He made me uncomfortable."

Por said nothing.

"It was worse off camera," TeeTee continued. "If I didn't act the way he wanted, he got angry. If I didn't want to do fanservice outside work, he said I was ruining the pairing. If I talked to someone else, he made comments."

Por felt his jaw tighten.

"And you never said anything?"

"No."

"Why?"

TeeTee shrugged slightly.

"Because I didn't want to ruin his career."

Por looked at him as though he didn't understand.

"He didn't show you the same consideration."

TeeTee laughed through his nose.

"Yeah."

"Then you're an idiot."

"I've been hearing that a lot lately."

"For good reason."

TeeTee smiled.

Por didn't.

"And that's why you're getting a bad reputation?"

"More or less."

"Because you ended the contract."

"Because I didn't explain why."

Por slowly shook his head.

"That's stupid."

"Probably."

"Very stupid."

"Thanks."

Por looked out the window again.

A few seconds passed.

"And what do I have to do with any of it?"

TeeTee took too long to answer.

"Nothing."

Por turned back toward him.

"TeeTee."

"That's exactly what I mean."

This time he looked at him.

"You have nothing to do with any of it. But if they saw us walking into a restaurant together, tomorrow you'd be dragged into everything."

Por stayed quiet.

TeeTee continued, more softly.

"I didn't want that."

"You could've canceled."

"Yes."

"But you didn't."

TeeTee smiled faintly.

"I wanted to see you."

That left Por without an answer for a second.

TeeTee seemed to realize what he'd said.

"But I wasn't—"

"Keep going."

"I wasn't trying to do anything weird."

Por arched an eyebrow.

"Nothing weird?"

"I didn't take you to my grandmother's to impress you."

"Then it worked pretty badly."

TeeTee laughed.

Por smiled a little too.

Then TeeTee grew serious again.

"I just thought no one would bother us there."

Por lowered his eyes to the Birkin.

"And I ended up leaving with this."

"That was not part of my plan."

"I hope not."

"My grandmother does whatever she wants."

"I figured that out."

TeeTee smiled.

The silence returned.

But this time it wasn't uncomfortable.

Por absentmindedly traced the stitching of the bag.

"TeeTee."

"Yeah?"

"Thank you."

TeeTee glanced at him quickly.

"For what?"

"For not taking me to the restaurant."

TeeTee looked forward again.

"You're welcome."

"And for not using me to fix your image."

That made TeeTee turn serious.

"I would never do that."

Por watched him.

He said nothing.

But he believed him.

And that was new.

⸻

The next day, the photos appeared.

Por leaving a studio with the Birkin.

It didn't take people long to identify it.

Then came the theories.

That TeeTee had bought it for him.

That it was a romantic gift.

That they were dating.

That this was the real reason behind his professional split with Phrem.

TeeTee said nothing.

Until, days later, someone asked him directly during an interview.

"Is it true you gave Por a Birkin?"

TeeTee smiled.

"No."

"But the photos—"

"It wasn't a gift from me."

"Then where did it come from?"

TeeTee took a sip of water.

"Next question."

The interviewer laughed.

"That was quick."

"Because the answer is quick too."

He added nothing.

He didn't mention his grandmother.

He didn't say Por had been at his house.

He didn't explain the lunch.

Nothing.

Because that afternoon didn't belong to the public.

And above all, because TeeTee still didn't know whether Por wanted anyone to know that they were starting to become part of each other's lives.

Maybe Por didn't even want to be linked to him.

And TeeTee would rather live with the rumors than make that decision for him.

Almost the same thing happened to Por.

It was after a runway show.

He still had some of the show makeup on, his hair slicked back, and a black robe draped over his shoulders as he crossed the press area.

The questions were the usual ones.

About the collection.

About his next trip.

About Japan.

About a new campaign.

Until one reporter raised her voice.

"Por, did TeeTee give you the Birkin?"

Por kept walking.

He didn't even slow down.

"Por? Was the bag a gift from TeeTee?"

Another voice joined in.

"Are you dating?"

Por stopped.

Just for a second.

He turned his head.

The expression on his face was enough to make several people immediately lower their microphones.

"What an invasive question."

And he kept walking.

That was all.

No answer.

No explanation.

No awkward smile.

No attempt to soften it.

He simply left the area.

And, strangely enough, no one was particularly surprised.

It was Por.

He had ended interviews over less.

He had ignored questions he thought were stupid.

He had stared at journalists until they changed the subject themselves.

It was part of his reputation.

So for a few hours, the incident was reduced to short clips online.

Por being Por.

Don't ask him things he doesn't want to answer.

That look would've made me quit my job.

The truly strange part came later.

⸻

The editorial came out two weeks later.

And no one was ready.

Not even TeeTee.

The first photograph was relatively simple.
Por sitting in front of a white wall.

A thin tank top.

Dark trousers.

Hair slightly longer, falling over his forehead.

Almost no makeup.

Or so it seemed.

His skin had a luminous finish.

A touch of blush across his cheekbones.

His lips only slightly glossy.

Then came the second.

And that was where the internet lost its mind.

Por was lying on his side on a pale surface.

The shirt had ridden up slightly.

His trousers sat very low on his hips, revealing the natural line of his waist and part of his pelvis without actually showing anything more.

His collarbones completely exposed.

One arm above his head.

His hair falling to one side.

And resting right in the space between his ribs and the curve of his hip was the Birkin.

The same one.

The pale canvas.

The aged brown leather.

The bag looked deliberately placed as if it were part of him.

Not held.

Not displayed.

Just there.

As if it had always belonged to him.

The third photograph was even worse.

Por was lying on his back.

One knee slightly bent.

The Birkin resting against his abdomen while one hand barely held one of the handles.

His eyes looking directly into the camera.

No smile.

No visible effort.

Just that half-bored expression that made everything look even more provocative.

The editorial's title was simple:

POR — PRIVATE THINGS

That was enough.

⸻

TeeTee was in makeup when someone showed him the photographs.

"Have you seen this?"

"What?"

They put the phone in front of him.

TeeTee stopped talking.

First picture.

Fine.

Second.

Silence.

Third.

TeeTee took the phone out of the makeup artist's hand.

"Give me that."

"What?"

"The phone."

"You already have it."

TeeTee zoomed in.

Mistake.

Huge mistake.

Por looked…

No.

He was not going to think that there.

Not with six other people around him.

He swiped to the next one.

Then went back to the previous one.

"How long have you been staring?"

TeeTee looked up.

"I'm analyzing the composition."

The makeup artist burst out laughing.

"Sure."

TeeTee gave the phone back.

Five seconds later, he asked for it again.

"Just one thing."

"What?"

"Is the bag in all of them?"

"Almost."

TeeTee pressed his lips together to keep from smiling.

That was suspicious.

Very suspicious.

But it could also mean absolutely nothing.

That was the problem with Por.

He could do something that looked like a declaration of emotional warfare and then look at you as if you were an idiot for interpreting it.

⸻

The editorial became so huge that it stopped belonging only to the fashion world.

Entertainment magazines talked about it.

Morning shows.

Pop-culture columns.

Even print newspapers ran little pieces about the phenomenon.

Newspapers.

In 2026.

TeeTee saw one on a table during filming and nearly laughed.

The photograph took up half the page.

POR TURNS A VINTAGE BIRKIN INTO THE MOST TALKED-ABOUT ACCESSORY OF THE WEEK

Below it was a censored version of the editorial for print.

TeeTee picked up the newspaper.

His manager saw him.

"No."

"What?"

"Don't take it."

"I'm reading."

"You've been on the same page for ten minutes."

"I read slowly."

"You're looking at Por."

TeeTee folded the newspaper.

"It's art."

"Now it's art."

"It was always art."

His manager stared at him.

TeeTee tucked the newspaper under his arm.

"I'm taking it."

"Obviously."

⸻

Por, meanwhile, didn't understand why everyone was being so dramatic.

His manager set the phone down in front of him.

"The bag is sold out in resale searches."

Por kept eating.

"You can't sell out of something secondhand."

"You know what I mean."

"No."

"Everyone thinks it was intentional."

Por looked up.

"What was?"

"Using that bag in that editorial after refusing to talk about TeeTee."

Por set his fork down.

"I didn't deny anything."

"Exactly."

"I left because the question was invasive."

"And then you posed half-naked with the supposed gift."

Por looked at him.

"I was not half-naked."

His manager showed him the photograph.

Por looked at it.

Pause.

"Well."

"Mm-hm."

"The bag worked with the concept."

"Of course."

"It's pretty."

"Mm-hm."

"And it has texture."

"Por."

"What?"

"Did you know what you were going to cause?"

Por picked his fork back up.

"No."

A lie.

Not completely.

But not completely true either.

Because when the stylist had asked whether he wanted to bring a personal object for the editorial, Por had had several options.

Watches.

Jewelry.

A camera.

A book.

He had chosen the Birkin.

Without thinking too much about it.

Or so he told himself.

⸻

That night, TeeTee texted him.

I saw the editorial.

Por replied almost immediately.

Congratulations. You know how to use the internet.

TeeTee smiled.

I bought the newspaper too.

A few seconds passed.

How old are you?

You're in it.

Por took a little longer.

And?

TeeTee typed.

Deleted it.

Typed again.

My imaginary gift looks good on you.

Por:

It's not your gift.

I know.

Then another message.

But you seem to like it a lot.

Silence.

TeeTee watched the three dots appear.

Disappear.

Come back.

Finally:

Your grandmother has better taste than you.

TeeTee laughed to himself.

That doesn't answer the question.

Por:

Not everything needs an answer.

TeeTee stared at that sentence for a moment.

Then wrote:

Sometimes you do things that look like answers.

This time, Por took almost a minute.

Then stop reading into everything so much.

TeeTee smiled.

Because that wasn't a denial either.

And he was starting to know him well enough to understand that.

The proposal arrived two weeks later.

Not to TeeTee.

Not to Por.

To their managers, practically at the same time.

A joint editorial.

Double cover.

Fashion, jewelry, and an exploration of power, dependence, and tension between two figures.

Reference images were attached.

Por went through them one by one.

One figure standing while the other remained kneeling.

A chain connecting both hands.

One person reclining while the other took up all the space above them.

Legs framing faces.

Hands gripping waists.

A closeness designed to look uncomfortably private.

Por set the phone down on the table.

"No."

His manager didn't even look up.

"The pay is absurd."

"No."

"It's a cover."

"I have covers."

"With TeeTee."

Por looked at the phone again.

"Exactly."

His manager smiled.

"So you are considering it."

"I'm considering firing you."

⸻

TeeTee reacted completely differently.

"Yes."

"I haven't finished explaining it."

"Yes."

"There are chains."

"Perfect."

"TeeTee."

"What?"

His manager slid the references in front of him.

"There's one where you're literally on your knees."

TeeTee studied the photo.

"Art."

"One where someone has a leg over the other person's head."

"Fashion."

"Another one almost looks like—"

"I accept."

His manager stared at him for several seconds.

"You're pathetic."

TeeTee smiled.

"Professional."

⸻

The studio was completely white.

No excessive sets.

No distracting colors.

Just bodies, clothes, and contrast.

Por arrived at styling first.

That was when he understood the magazine had done its homework.

There were no dresses.

No heels.

No intention of visually turning him into a woman.

It was more interesting than that.

They wanted to exploit precisely what made Por work so well in front of a camera.

His ability to look masculine and feminine at the same time.

Beautiful without softening him.

Sensual without turning him into a caricature.

The first look was black.

A fitted long-sleeved top whose front was almost completely open, held together only by thin cords crossing from his sternum to below his navel.

Skin.

A lot of it.

Collarbones.

Center of his chest.

Abdomen.

The line of his ribs.

The leather trousers sat low on his hips, held by a thick belt of aged metal.

Por looked at himself in the mirror.

"This one, yes."

The stylist smiled.

"We knew you'd like it."

"I didn't say I liked it."

"You're taking pictures of yourself."

Por lowered his phone.

"Documentation."

⸻

TeeTee appeared twenty minutes later.

And stopped walking.

Por was in front of the mirror while someone finished adjusting the cords over his abdomen.

TeeTee looked.

Then tried not to.

Then looked again.

Por saw him in the reflection.

"How subtle."

TeeTee cleared his throat.

"Hi."

Por turned.

"Hi?"

"Yes."

"That's all?"

"What do you want me to say?"

Por watched him with amusement.

For the first time, TeeTee seemed to have no idea what to do with his mouth.

"Nothing."

TeeTee rubbed the back of his neck.

"You look…"

Por waited.

"Good."

"Good?"

"Very good."

Por smiled slowly.

"Coward."

TeeTee decided not answering was safer.

⸻

TeeTee's look was the complete opposite.

Straight-cut black trousers.

White shirt.

Perfectly fitted dark vest.

Structured jacket.

Black shoes.

Everything clean.

Masculine.

Almost severe.

And then came the glasses.

Thin frames.

Dark.

Por, who was drinking water, stared at him.

TeeTee noticed.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"Now you're the one staring."

Por took another sip.

"You look like an accountant."

TeeTee smiled.

"An attractive one."

"Don't ruin the effect."

⸻

The first photograph looked simple.

Both standing.

Por in front.

TeeTee behind him.

"Closer," the photographer asked.

TeeTee moved forward.

His chest almost against Por's back.

"Hands on his waist."

TeeTee hesitated.

Por noticed immediately.

He turned his head slightly.

"Now you're afraid to touch me?"

"I'm being respectful."

Por arched an eyebrow.

"We're working."

That was enough.

TeeTee's hands circled his waist.

Bare skin.

His fingers landed exactly on the hips exposed by the low trousers.

Por took a slightly deeper breath.

TeeTee felt it.

He said nothing.

"Por, look back."

Por turned his face.

TeeTee lowered his head slightly.

The glasses made him look absurdly proper while his hands were firmly placed on an almost bare waist.

The contrast was ridiculous.

Click.

"Don't smile."

Click.

"TeeTee, squeeze a little tighter."

His fingers tightened slightly.

Por held his gaze.

Click.

The photographer lowered the camera.

"Perfect."

TeeTee didn't remove his hands.

Por looked down at them.

"We're done with that one."

TeeTee pulled them away immediately.

"I know."

Por smiled.

⸻

Por's second look was completely different.

A cream lace-and-ruffle blouse, open at the sides and almost completely unstructured through the center, exposing his abdomen and part of his flanks.

Long strands of pearls.

Low-waisted dark leather trousers.

Boots.

A small structured dark cap that contrasted with all that delicacy.

He looked like he had stepped out of some strange painting.

Elegant.

Decadent.

A little insolent.

"I like this one better," Por said.

TeeTee, sitting while someone fixed his hair, looked up.

"Me too."

Por turned.

TeeTee immediately looked away.

"I didn't say anything."

"I heard you."

"Well, you didn't ask."

⸻

The pose was one of the original references.

Por standing.

TeeTee kneeling in front of him.

"I'm not going to laugh," Por said.

"It hasn't even happened yet."

"That's why I'm warning you."

TeeTee lowered onto one knee.

Then both.

He lifted his face.

Por stopped smiling.

Damn it.

The glasses were still there.

The shirt slightly open now.

Sleeves rolled up.

TeeTee looked too masculine, too serious, too comfortable being down there while still giving the impression that he could control the scene if he wanted to.

"Por, hand in his hair."

Por slid his fingers into it.

"Firmer."

He gripped it.

TeeTee lifted his chin slightly.

"Like that," the photographer said.

Click.

Por looking down at him.

TeeTee looking up.

But the photograph didn't seem to show who was really in control.

That was exactly what made it interesting.

"Now the chain."

An assistant handed them a thin metal chain.

It wasn't attached to anyone.

It was simply a visual element.

Por held one end.

TeeTee took the other.

"TeeTee, put your hands together."

He did.

The chain lay between his fingers.

Por pulled on it slightly.

TeeTee moved a few inches forward on his knees.

They both went still.

"Perfect."

Click.

TeeTee murmured without moving his lips much:

"You're enjoying this way too much."

Por answered just as quietly.

"You accepted before reading the contract."

"I don't regret it."

Por pulled on the chain again.

Click.

⸻

The third composition adapted one of the more provocative references.

Instead of heels, Por wore pointed black boots.

TeeTee was lying on the floor.

Por stood over him.

"I'm not stepping on him."

"We don't want you to step on him," the photographer replied. "Just put your boot here."

He indicated the space beside TeeTee's shoulder.

Por obeyed.

The pointed toe ended up very close to his face.

TeeTee looked up.

Por looked down.

"Comfortable down there?"

"I've had worse views."

Por laughed.

Click.

"Stay in character."

"He started it," Por said.

"Liar."

The next pose was even closer.

Por planted one leg beside TeeTee and leaned his body forward.

TeeTee remained on the floor, one hand resting beneath his own chin.

It was an aggressively editorial composition.

Almost defiant.

Por above.

TeeTee below.

But again, TeeTee's calm expression made it hard to tell who was actually yielding.

⸻

Then came the suits.

Not normal suits.

The three main looks had large openings in the back, ribbons, and cutouts that exposed skin without altering the masculine structure of the garments.

TeeTee's was black.

Strong shoulders.

The entire back open from below the collar almost to the waist.

Por's was cream.

More fitted.

More delicate.

The opening in the back was even larger, framed by small white ruffles and tied with two thin ribbons.

Por stepped out of the dressing room.

TeeTee looked at him from behind.

His skin was completely exposed.

The line of his spine visible.

Narrow waist.

Por turned his head.

"I can see you."

"I'm looking at the design."

"Sure."

"It's an architectural opening."

Por laughed.

"Architectural?"

"I don't know. I got nervous."

That made Por laugh even harder.

⸻

They photographed them from behind first.

Then facing each other.

Then with Por slightly in front while TeeTee held one of the loose ribbons from his suit.

"Don't pull," Por warned.

"I wasn't going to."

"Your face says otherwise."

TeeTee smiled.

"Now you're the one interpreting."

Por looked at him over his shoulder.

Click.

⸻

The shoot changed again after lunch.

More casual.
More skin.

Two tank tops.

Wide-legged trousers.

Hair deliberately messy.

Por wore a very thin white shirt that showed his collarbones and rode slightly up over his abdomen.

TeeTee wore black.

More fitted.

Shoulders exposed.

Arms defined.

The first photograph was simple.

Side by side.

The second wasn't.

"TeeTee, hand there."

"Where?"

"On Por's waistband."

They both looked at the photographer.

"Excuse me?" Por asked.

"Just lightly hold the trousers. That's all."

TeeTee looked at him.

Por exhaled.

"Do it."

TeeTee slid his fingers along the side of the waistband.

Without pulling.

Just holding.

Por lifted his chin.

Click.

"Perfect."

The next time, they switched.

Now Por had two fingers hooked into the edge of TeeTee's trousers.

"This is going to cause problems," TeeTee murmured.

"Everything causes you problems."

"You cause me problems."

Por looked at him.

TeeTee looked back.

Por released the fabric.

"Next."

Too quickly.

⸻

The chain composition returned.

This time TeeTee remained on his knees.

Por stood in front of him wearing low-waisted black trousers and a soft shirt open almost all the way down.

The chain crossed the image from TeeTee's hands to one of Por's.

Nothing was actually tied.

But the photograph made it look like something else.

"TeeTee, look at him."

He already was.

"Por, camera."

Por obeyed.

Click.

"Now him."

Por lowered his eyes.

TeeTee was still there.

On his knees.

Looking at him as though none of this had anything to do with the magazine.

Por felt something uncomfortable in his chest.

"Good."

He looked away.

"Are we done?"

The photographer checked the screen.

"We have it."

⸻

Then came the bed.

And that was where everything got harder.

The set was deliberately simple.

White sheets.

Gray wall.

Warm light.

Nothing overtly sexual.

Which was precisely why it felt much more intimate.

Por wore a loose white camisole that slipped off one shoulder if he moved too much.

Low trousers.

Bare feet.

TeeTee wore a white sleeveless shirt and black trousers.

They photographed Por on his stomach first.

TeeTee leaning against the side of the bed.

Then both sitting on the floor.

Por reclined against the mattress.

TeeTee beside him.

They looked at each other.

Nothing else.

Click.

It looked like the morning after something.

That was dangerous.

⸻

"Now Por on top."

They both looked up.

The photographer pointed to the bed.

"TeeTee lying down. Por above him, but don't put your weight on him."

Por looked at TeeTee.

"Don't say anything."

TeeTee lifted his hands.

"I wasn't going to."

Liar.

He lay down.

Por positioned himself over him, one knee on either side without actually sitting.

His hands on both sides of TeeTee's head.

They ended up face to face.

Too close.

TeeTee looked at him.

Por knew he was supposed to look at the camera.

He didn't.

"Perfect," the photographer murmured.

Click.

TeeTee spoke very quietly.

"Hi."

Por almost laughed.

"You're an idiot."

"You're literally on top of me and that's what you decide to say?"

"Shut up."

Click.

⸻

Then they switched.

Por lying down.

TeeTee leaning over him.

But this time the nerdy concept returned.

Black jacket.

Shirt.

Gray tie.

Glasses.

Por was still in the white camisole and low trousers.

An absolutely unfair combination.

"TeeTee, hand on his waist."

His palm landed against Por's bare side.

"The other beside his head."

He did it.

He hovered over him.

Por looked up.

TeeTee's glasses had slipped slightly down his nose.

"You look stupid," he whispered.

"And you're still staring."

"Because you're on top of me."

"Excuses."

Por was about to answer when the photographer spoke.

"Closer."

TeeTee lowered himself.

Por stopped joking.

Their faces were only inches apart.

"Por, tilt your chin up a little."

He did.

It looked like they were about to kiss.

But neither moved.

Click.

⸻

And then the tie appeared.

"No."

Por started laughing.

"Absolutely not."

"It's for your eyes."

"I figured that out."

TeeTee took off his glasses.

"We can skip it."

Por looked at him.

That surprised him.

Not because TeeTee seemed uncomfortable.

Because his first concern had immediately been whether Por was.

Por held out his hand.

"Give it to me."

"You sure?"

"It's a photo."

TeeTee handed it over.

Por put the fabric over his own eyes.

"Like this?"

The photographer nodded.

TeeTee put his glasses back on.

"This feels ridiculous."

Unable to see him, Por smiled.

"I like it."

TeeTee stopped breathing for half a second.

⸻

Por reclined in a wide chair.

The tie over his eyes.

TeeTee leaning over him.

One hand on the backrest.

The other on his exposed hip.

"Come closer."

TeeTee obeyed.

Por could feel his breathing.

"More."

TeeTee lowered himself a little farther.

There was barely any space left.

"TeeTee, look at his mouth."

Mistake.

Serious mistake.

Por couldn't see him.

But he felt the fingers on his waist tense.

Click.

"Perfect."

TeeTee swallowed.

The photographer kept shooting.

Por barely spoke.

"Are you still there?"

TeeTee answered beside his face.

"Yeah."

Too close.

Por felt something run down his spine.

"Good."

He didn't know why he'd said that.

⸻

The next pose wasn't planned.

Por had already taken off the blindfold.

They were back at the white background for a few final photographs.

He wore another black look, a thin button-up shirt open to the middle of his chest and huge trousers.

TeeTee wore a sleeveless shirt and structured trousers.

Por was supposed to rest part of his weight against him.

Simple.

Until one of his shoes slipped.

"Por—"

TeeTee reacted before anyone else.

One hand wrapped around his waist.

The other caught his thigh.

Por ended up leaning over him.

Almost horizontal.

TeeTee held him easily.

The entire studio went still.

Por looked at him.

"Are you okay?"

No joke.

Nothing.

Just immediate concern.

Por nodded.

"Yeah."

Click.

They both turned toward the camera.

The photographer hadn't even asked.

"Don't move."

Click.

TeeTee was still holding him.

One open hand on his bare waist.

Por had one hand gripping his shoulder.

"That one," the creative director murmured.

Por still didn't move away.

Neither did TeeTee.

Click.

"That's the cover."

Only then did Por straighten up.

⸻

The last photograph of the day was the worst.

Not because of the pose.

Because it was the simplest.

Por facing TeeTee.

Nothing between them.

The black lace-up top was back.

Low trousers.

All that skin visible again.

TeeTee in the black suit.

No jacket.

Shirt partly open.

Glasses.

"Hands on his hips."

TeeTee obeyed.

Skin against skin again.

Por rested his hands on TeeTee's shoulders.

"Closer."

They stepped forward.

Chest to chest.

"Por, lift your chin."

He did.

"TeeTee, toward him."

TeeTee lowered his head.

His nose almost against Por's.

Nothing else.

No chain.

No bed.

No blindfold.

No exaggerated poses.

Just them.

Too close.

TeeTee murmured:

"I don't know how much longer I can pretend this is normal."

Por looked at him.

The sentence didn't sound like flirting.

That was what scared him.

"Then don't talk."

TeeTee closed his mouth.

But his hands stayed on Por's hips.

Por didn't move away either.

Click.

The photographer lowered the camera.

"We're done."

Neither reacted.

"Guys."

Por blinked.

He stepped away first.

TeeTee let his hands fall.

The studio began moving around them again.

Assistants.

Stylists.

Makeup.

Clothes.

Conversations.

As if absolutely nothing had changed during the past several hours.

Por headed toward his dressing room.

Before going inside, he turned.

TeeTee was still standing in the same place.

Watching him.

Por held his gaze.

One second.

Two.

Then he closed the door.

And leaned against it.

Because for the first time there was a problem much bigger than the photographs that were going to come out.

He had started to like the way they felt before the pictures were taken.

After the shoot, neither of them wanted to go straight home.

They had spent too many hours under white lights, with cameras too close and hands placed exactly where someone else decided.

So they ended up at a private bar a few streets from the studio.

Nothing too elegant.

Just dark.

Low music.

Leather sofas.

Familiar people.

Too many familiar people.

TeeTee had put one of the shoot looks back on.

Black trousers.

Dark shirt.

Structured jacket.

Everything clean.

Masculine.

Understated.

Por, meanwhile, had decided to keep the lace-up shirt.

The same black one.

The one that left almost the entire center of his torso exposed.

He paired it with low trousers and a light jacket he never actually closed.

TeeTee looked at him when they walked in.

"You're wearing that?"

Por looked down at himself.

"I already am."

"That doesn't answer the question."

"Then yes."

TeeTee pressed his lips together.

"Perfect."

Por looked at him.

"Do you have a problem?"

"None."

A lie.

The problem started exactly seven minutes later.

⸻

First it was a woman.

She approached TeeTee.

Pretty.

Very pretty.

She said something in his ear that Por couldn't hear.

TeeTee smiled politely.

She showed him her phone.

TeeTee shook his head.

"Sorry."

The woman insisted a little.

TeeTee shook his head again.

Then she left.

Por arched an eyebrow.

"Picky."

TeeTee took a sip.

"I'm not interested."

"A miracle."

TeeTee looked at him.

"Shut up."

Por smiled.

Five minutes later, a man approached Por.

"I saw you at today's shoot."

Por looked up.

"Did you?"

"I work with a brand."

TeeTee watched them from the corner of his eye.

The man offered Por a drink.

Por accepted it.

"Thanks."

TeeTee clenched his jaw.

He said nothing.

Then came another.

And another.

A woman.

Another man.

A model.

A producer.

Everyone wanted to talk to Por.

Everyone wanted to get close.

Everyone wanted to touch his arm.

Everyone wanted to know where he'd be later.

Everyone wanted to give him something.

A drink.

A number.

An invitation.

Por accepted the drinks.

Not the numbers.

But that didn't matter much.

TeeTee kept watching.

And something started twisting inside him.

It wasn't anger.

Not exactly.

It was uglier.

More childish.

More uncomfortable.

Jealousy?

TeeTee set his glass down on the table.

No.

That was ridiculous.

They were nothing.

Nothing had even happened between them.

Por could accept twenty drinks if he wanted.

He could leave with whoever he wanted.

He could sleep with whoever he wanted.

It wasn't TeeTee's problem.

And that was exactly why it felt worse.

⸻

"I'm going to the bathroom."

Por turned.

"Now?"

"Yeah."

TeeTee got up before he could ask anything else.

He went into the bathroom.

Leaned against the sink.

Looked at his reflection.

"Idiot."

That was exactly what he was.

An idiot.

Because he had spent months telling himself he only wanted to be near Por.

Then that he wanted to know him.

Then that he wanted to protect him.

Then that maybe he simply liked him too much.

And now he was hiding in a bathroom because someone had offered Por a whisky.

Pathetic.

He ran water over his hands.

Breathed.

He had no right to be upset.

Absolutely no right.

That was what mattered.

When he came out, Por was waiting near the hallway.

TeeTee stopped.

"What are you doing here?"

"Waiting for you."

"Why?"

Por studied him.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah."

"Doesn't look like it."

"I'm fine."

Por narrowed his eyes.

TeeTee forced himself to smile.

"Really."

Por didn't look convinced.

"Was it something from the shoot?"

"No."

"Did any of the photos make you uncomfortable?"

"No."

"Then what?"

TeeTee stayed quiet.

Then shook his head.

"Nothing."

Por watched him for another second.

"Fine."

And headed back toward the bar.

TeeTee followed.

⸻

But the feeling didn't go away.

For nearly an hour, TeeTee watched people come and go.

And Por stayed Por.

Polite when he wanted.

Flirtatious when he felt like it.

Distant when someone got too close.

But he kept accepting drinks.

TeeTee stopped counting after the fourth.

Not because Por was drunk.

He only took a few sips.

It was something else.

The ease with which everyone wanted something from him.

The same ease with which Por seemed accustomed to it.

TeeTee felt that unpleasant pressure again.

Por watched him from the other side of the sofa.

This time he understood something.

Not exactly what.

But something.

When a man appeared with another drink, Por smiled.

"Thanks, but no."

The man looked surprised.

"You sure?"

"Yeah."

"I can get you something else."

"I'm good."

He left.

TeeTee lifted his gaze slightly.

Por pretended not to notice.

Then he turned down another.

And another.

Until finally he picked up a fresh glass from the bar.

Walked over to TeeTee.

Sat beside him.

"Here."

TeeTee looked at the drink.

Then at Por.

"What?"

"I'm offering you a drink."

TeeTee almost smiled.

"I thought I wasn't allowed to accept drinks from you."

Por arched an eyebrow.

"That was me."

"Oh."

TeeTee took the glass.

"Thanks."

Por watched him.
Something still felt off.

TeeTee's eyes weren't the same as they had been at the studio.

There was none of that intensity.

No amusement.

It wasn't the Paris look either.

The look of someone fascinated.

He looked sad.

That made Por frown.

"TeeTee."

"What?"

"Now tell me what's wrong."

"Nothing."

"Don't lie to me."

TeeTee looked at the glass.

Slowly swirled the ice.

"I don't know."

Por waited.

TeeTee exhaled.

"I felt bad."

"Why?"

Silence.

TeeTee looked up.

And decided not to hide.

"Maybe I was jealous."

Por looked at him.

One second.

Two.

Then he laughed.

Not cruelly.

More surprised than anything.

"Jealous?"

TeeTee dragged a hand over his face.

"Yeah, I know."

Por was still smiling.

"You're stupid."

He moved closer.

Ruffled TeeTee's hair with one hand.

TeeTee closed his eyes for a second.

"Thanks."

"Seriously."

Por kept fixing his hair as if he were a child.

"They're people who want to get into my bed."

TeeTee opened his eyes.

Por shrugged.

"That's all."

TeeTee looked at him.

Por smiled with complete ease.

"You're different."

Something in TeeTee's chest lifted.

Just a little.

Until Por finished the sentence.

"We're colleagues."

Pause.

"Almost good friends."

And there it went.

TeeTee smiled.

Because he didn't know what else to do.

"Oh."

Por didn't notice.

Or didn't understand.

"So you don't have to get like that."

TeeTee looked down at his glass.

"Yeah."

"See?"

"Yeah."

Por touched his hair again.

"Idiot."

TeeTee let out a small laugh.

"I get it."

But he hadn't gotten anything.

Or worse.

He had understood perfectly.

Colleagues.

Almost good friends.

That was what he was to Por.

And he should probably have been happy.

Months ago, Por hadn't even wanted to accept a drink from him.

Now he looked for him when he disappeared.

Took care of him when he got sick.

Used his grandmother's bag.

Worked with him.

Sat beside him.

Ruffled his hair.

Almost good friends.

It was progress.

A lot of it.

So why did it hurt so much?

⸻

Por looked back toward the bar.

Someone else approached.

"Por, want another?"

Por lifted the empty glass.

Then looked at TeeTee.

"No, thanks."

The person left.

TeeTee noticed.

Por noticed that he noticed.

"What?"

TeeTee shook his head.

"Nothing."

Por shifted closer on the sofa.

Their shoulders touched.

"You're way too dramatic."

TeeTee looked straight ahead.

"I'm an actor."

"Cheap excuse."

"It works."

Por laughed.

And stayed there.

Without accepting any more drinks.

Without leaving with anyone.

Without even realizing that that tiny decision probably meant much more than he wanted to admit.

TeeTee, on the other hand, did realize it.

And that was almost worse.

Because if Por really only saw him as a friend…

Then TeeTee was starting to want things he might never get.

After that night, TeeTee disappeared.

Not from the internet.

Not from work.

From Por.

He was assigned a new acting partner for a new series.

An actress.

Very pretty.

Charming.

Funny.

The kind of person TeeTee, at any other point in his life, probably would have flirted with too much and ended up confusing things with.

But it didn't happen.

Not once.

People loved them.

Interview clips blew up.

Behind-the-scenes photos had millions of interactions.

Fans started talking about chemistry.

About how good they looked together.

About how comfortable she seemed with him.

Por saw a few things.

Not many.

That was what he told himself.

Only the ones that appeared in front of him.

He didn't search.

He didn't care.

That was what he told himself too.

But three months was a long time.

And in those three months, TeeTee didn't text him.

Not once.

⸻

When he came back, they crossed paths almost immediately.

A brand collaboration.

Por saw him from the other side of the studio.

TeeTee saw him too.

Their eyes met.

Por lifted his chin slightly.

TeeTee did the same.

And walked the other way.

Por stayed still.

Strange.

But it could have been coincidence.

The second time, the same thing happened.

The third too.

TeeTee talked to everyone.

Smiled.

Joked.

He was exactly the same.

Until Por came near.

Then a call appeared.

An assistant.

A wardrobe change.

Anything.

Por let two events pass.

By the third, he was done.

⸻

He found him coming out of makeup.

"TeeTee."

He stopped.

"Por."

Too formal.

Por narrowed his eyes.

"Come here."

"I have to—"

Por grabbed him by the wrist.

"No."

TeeTee looked at his hand.

Then at him.

"Por."

"You're coming with me."

"Where?"

"Somewhere you can't run away."

"I'm not—"

"Shut up."

He dragged him down a hallway.

Opened the bathroom door.

They went inside.

He closed it.

TeeTee exhaled.

"Seriously?"

Por crossed his arms.

"Yes."

"This is ridiculous."

"Perfect. Then explain why you've been avoiding me for weeks."

TeeTee looked at him.

"I'm not avoiding you."

Por laughed without humor.

"Good to know."

He took a step closer.

"Then look at me."

TeeTee did.

Por went quiet.

There it was.

The answer.

It wasn't indifference.

It was too much.

"Say it," Por murmured.

TeeTee swallowed.

"There's nothing to say."

"Lie."

"Por."

"You ignored me for three months."

"I was working."

"And then you came back and kept doing it."

TeeTee lowered his gaze.

Por took another step.

"If I did something, tell me."

"You didn't do anything."

"Then what?"

Silence.

"TeeTee."

He closed his eyes for a second.

"Yes."

Por frowned.

"Yes what?"

"Yes, I was distant."

Pause.

"Yes, I ignored you."

Por said nothing.

TeeTee let out a dry laugh.

"Is that what you wanted to hear?"

"I want to know why."

TeeTee looked up.

He didn't look angry anymore.

He looked tired.

"Because I didn't know what to do with you."

Por blinked.

"With me?"

"Yes."

"I don't understand."

TeeTee braced both hands on the sink behind him.

"My feelings are complicated."

Por went very still.

"What feelings?"

TeeTee looked at him as if the question were almost cruel.

"Por."

Silence.

Por felt something strange in his chest.

"Tell me."

TeeTee took a deep breath.

And then stopped trying to control it.

"I like you."

Por didn't react.

TeeTee continued.

"A lot."

The words came out softer.

"More than I wanted to."

Por parted his lips slightly.

TeeTee looked away.

"And I don't know what to do with that."

Por still didn't speak.

"When I see you flirting with someone, it hurts."

That did change Por's expression.

"It shouldn't," TeeTee continued. "I know. You're not mine. We're nothing."

Every word seemed difficult for him.

"But it hurts anyway."

Por felt his throat tighten a little.

TeeTee laughed weakly.

"And it scares me."

"What does?"

"This."

He pointed to his chest.

"Because at first, yeah."

TeeTee swallowed.

"At first I thought I wanted to sleep with you."

Por didn't look away.

"You were beautiful. You are beautiful. And I was used to the fact that if I liked someone, then…"

He made a small gesture with his hand.

"It happened."

Por lowered his gaze slightly.

TeeTee kept going.

"But then I got to know you."

Silence.

"And it wasn't that anymore."

His voice cracked just slightly.

"And that was worse."

Por looked at him again.

"I don't want you to think all of this is because I want to get you into bed."

TeeTee shook his head.

"I don't even want you to think I'm waiting around so I can get something from you."

He breathed.

"I just…"

He ran out of words.

Por waited.

"I just care about you."

That landed differently.

Much harder than I like you.

TeeTee ran a hand through his hair.

"And that night…"

Por knew immediately.

"The bar?"

TeeTee nodded.

"When you said colleagues."

Por went still.

"Almost good friends."

TeeTee smiled.

But it was sad.

"It hurt."

Por opened his mouth.

Nothing came out.

"I know you didn't do anything wrong."

TeeTee continued before he could respond.

"You were trying to reassure me."

"TeeTee—"

"I know."

"No, you don't."

"Por."

"Let me talk."

TeeTee closed his mouth.

Por looked at him.

Really looked at him.

And for the first time, he began to put together things he had kept separate for months.

TeeTee accepting jobs just to overlap with him.

The shoelaces.

The clothes.

The illness.

Lunch with his grandmother.

The way TeeTee had protected that afternoon from the press.

His hands on Por's hips during the shoot.

The looks.

The jealousy.

Then three months of silence.

And the actress.

Por felt something unpleasant when he thought about her.

That annoyed him.

"That's why you disappeared?"

"Yes."

"For three months?"

"I needed distance."

"You could've talked to me."

TeeTee laughed.

"What was I supposed to say? Hi, I'm falling in love with you and you see me as a colleague?"

Por froze.

So did TeeTee.

Silence.

They both seemed to hear the word at the same time.

Falling in love.

TeeTee closed his eyes.

"Fuck."

Por didn't move.

"What did you say?"

"Nothing."

"TeeTee."

"No."

"Look at me."

"No."

Por moved forward.

Now TeeTee was actually cornered between him and the sink.

"Look at me."

TeeTee finally did.

His eyes were shining.

"I didn't mean to say it like that."

Por felt his heart beating far too hard.

"But you said it."

"Yes."

Silence.

TeeTee lowered his voice.

"Because it's true."

Por stopped breathing for a second.

"And that's why I left."

TeeTee clenched his jaw.

"Because if I stayed around you, I was going to keep wanting more."

Por didn't know what to say.

That was unusual.

Por always knew what to say.

"And you don't owe me anything," TeeTee continued. "Nothing."

He shifted slightly, trying to create distance.

Por didn't give it to him.

"I just didn't want you thinking I was ignoring you because I was angry with you."

"But you were angry."

"At myself."

Por frowned.

"Why at yourself?"

TeeTee looked at him.

"Because I knew I had no right to be jealous."

Pause.

"And I was anyway."

Por swallowed.

"And the actress?"

TeeTee blinked.

"What?"

Por regretted it immediately.

Too late.

"Nothing."

TeeTee looked at him carefully.

"Por."

"I said nothing."

"You asked about her."

"Because you work together."

"Uh-huh."

Por rolled his eyes.

"Don't start."

For the first time during the entire conversation, something like a smile appeared on TeeTee's face.

"Were you jealous?"

"No."

Too fast.

TeeTee raised his eyebrows.

"Sure."

"No."

"Por."

"No."

"Okay."

That okay was unbearable.

Por pointed at him.

"Don't make that face."

"What face?"

"That smug idiot face."

"I'm not smug."

Por huffed.

TeeTee kept looking at him.

And then the tension came back.

Not the one from the shoot.

Not the one from the cameras.

This was worse.

Because no one was telling them where to put their hands.

Or how to look at each other.

Or how close to stand.

Por slowly lowered his hand.

"I didn't know."

TeeTee's smile disappeared.

"I know."

"No."

Por shook his head.

"I really didn't know."

TeeTee watched him.

"I thought you flirted with me because that's just how you are."

"I am like that."

"Exactly."

"But with you…"

TeeTee waited.

Por left the sentence unfinished.

Because he still didn't know what it meant.

That was the terrifying part.

"I need to think."

TeeTee nodded immediately.

"Yeah."

He didn't argue.

Didn't try to move closer.

Didn't ask how long.

Por noticed that too.

TeeTee took a breath.

"And if you want me to keep my distance again—"

"No."

The answer came out before Por could think.

They both went still.

TeeTee looked at him.

Por swallowed.

"I didn't say that."

TeeTee nodded slowly.

"Okay."

"I just…"

Por ran a hand through his hair.

"I need to understand what I feel."

TeeTee held his gaze.

"That's okay."

Por looked at him again.

"And are you going to disappear for another three months?"

TeeTee smiled faintly.

"Not if you don't want me to."

Por stayed quiet.

Then opened the door.

Before leaving, he looked back.

"I don't want you to."

And he left.

TeeTee stayed alone in front of the sink.

Completely still.

Because after three months of trying to stop wanting him…

two words had just destroyed all his progress.

I don't want you to.

Por thought everything would be easier after that conversation.

It wasn't.

It was worse.

Much worse.

Because before, he could convince himself TeeTee was simply flirtatious.

That the looks meant nothing.

That the hands on his waist during shoots were work.

That accepting campaigns where Por would be there was coincidence.

That taking care of him, protecting him from the press, introducing him to his grandmother, getting jealous at a bar…

All of it could be reinterpreted.

Not anymore.

Now he knew.

TeeTee had told him he liked him.

A lot.

That it hurt.

That he was falling in love.

And Por had to live knowing that.
⸻

The next few days were strangely normal.

That was the first thing that annoyed Por.

TeeTee didn't push.

Didn't ask.

Didn't send messages asking whether Por had "thought about it" yet.

Didn't try to use the confession to get closer.

Nothing.

Good morning.

A stupid picture of his coffee.

A comment about a campaign.

A meme.

Like before.

But different.

Because now Por could see everything he had ignored before.

Did you get there okay?

Before, it would have looked like an ordinary question.

Now he knew TeeTee waited for the answer.

Eat before the fitting.

Before, he would have rolled his eyes.

Now he stared at the message.

Don't drink eight coffees today.

That made him smile.

He replied:

You're not my mother.

TeeTee:

Thank God.

Por:

Idiot.

TeeTee:

Colleague.

Por stopped smiling.

He stared at the word.

Two seconds.

Three.

Then wrote:

Don't do that.

The reply took longer than usual.

Sorry.

Por pressed his lips together.

He didn't know why it had bothered him.

He had been the one to use that word first.

⸻

A week later, they crossed paths again.

A jewelry campaign.

Nothing sensual.

No bed.

No chains.

Por was mentally grateful for that.

TeeTee arrived late.

He came in almost running, hair still wet and a bag of food in one hand.

"Sorry, sorry."

Por looked at him from the makeup chair.

"How professional."

TeeTee smiled.

"Good morning to you too."

Then he noticed there was nothing in front of Por.

"Did you eat?"

Por closed his eyes.

"Don't start."

"That means no."

TeeTee put the bag on his table.

"I bought too much."

Por looked inside.

Exactly what he usually ordered.

He slowly looked up.

TeeTee was already walking away.

"TeeTee."

He turned.

"Yeah?"

"You bought this for me."

TeeTee hesitated.

"I bought too much."

"Liar."

TeeTee smiled.

"Eat."

And walked away.

Por stayed there looking at the bag.

His makeup artist had seen the whole thing.

"That's pretty sweet."

Por looked up.

"No."

"I didn't say anything."

"Your face did."

The woman smiled.

Por opened the food with more force than necessary.

⸻

The shoot ended early.

Por was packing his things when he saw TeeTee talking to the actress from his new series.

She had shown up for another campaign at the same studio.

They were laughing.

The actress adjusted something at TeeTee's collar.

TeeTee leaned in to hear her.

Por stopped packing.

His manager was beside him.

"What?"

"Nothing."

Por kept looking.

The actress touched TeeTee's arm.

TeeTee smiled.

Por felt that same unpleasant sensation from weeks ago.

No.

Not that.

His manager followed his gaze.

"Ah."

Por turned immediately.

"Don't even."

"I didn't say anything."

"You don't have to."

"Interesting."

"Shut up."

Por shoved his phone into his bag.

"I'm leaving."

"The car gets here in ten minutes."

"I'll walk."

"Por."

"I need air."

He left.

⸻

He didn't get very far.

He heard the door behind him.

"Por."

He kept walking.

"Por."

"What?"

TeeTee caught up with him.

"You're leaving?"

"Looks that way."

"I thought we could eat."

Por let out a short laugh.

"Go with your actress."

TeeTee went quiet.

Por kept walking.

Three seconds later, he heard:

"Ah."

Por closed his eyes.

Fuck.

"Don't do that."

"Do what?"

"That 'ah.'"

"I didn't do anything."

"Exactly like last time."

TeeTee was walking beside him now.

"Are you jealous?"

Por looked at him.

"No."

TeeTee tried to hide a smile.

Badly.

"Don't smile."

"I'm not smiling."

"I can see you."

"I'm happy to see you."

"Liar."

TeeTee laughed.

Por sped up.

"She was telling me something about filming."

"I didn't ask."

"And I'm not sleeping with her."

Por stopped.

"I definitely did not ask that."

TeeTee stopped too.

"But you wanted to know."

Por looked at him.

Silence.

"You're unbearable."

"And you're jealous."

"No."

"A little."

"TeeTee."

"Okay."

He raised his hands.

"I won't say anything else."

Por started walking again.

TeeTee followed.

Five seconds.

Ten.

"You're really not with her?"

TeeTee nearly tripped.

Por kept looking straight ahead.

"Don't get excited."

TeeTee had to hold back a smile.

"No."

"Never?"

"Never."

Por nodded.

As if he didn't care.

"Good."

TeeTee glanced at him.

"Good?"

"You answered."

"Por."

"What?"

"Nothing."

But this time TeeTee was really smiling.

⸻

They ended up eating.

Not because they had planned to.

Simply because TeeTee said he was hungry and Por didn't say no.

A small café.

A table in the back.

No photographers.

TeeTee was talking about filming when Por interrupted him.

"Why weren't you with her?"

TeeTee blinked.

"What?"

"You said normally you would've been with someone like her."

TeeTee set down his fork.

"You remember that?"

"I have a memory."

"I thought you didn't care."

Por looked at him.

"Answer."

TeeTee breathed.

"Because I didn't want to."

"I know that already."

TeeTee went quiet.

Por waited.

Finally, TeeTee said:

"Because every time someone tried to get close to me, I thought about you."

Por went still.

"That sounds terrible when I say it out loud."

Por looked down.

"A little."

TeeTee laughed weakly.

"I tried."

"Tried what?"

"To get over it."

Por looked up.

"Me?"

"Yeah."

TeeTee turned his glass between his fingers.

"I thought three months away would be enough."

"And?"

TeeTee looked at him.

"I saw you again and it all fell apart."

Por felt heat rise up his neck.

"How dramatic."

"I'm an actor."

"Don't use that again."

TeeTee smiled.

Then got serious.

"But I don't want to pressure you."

Por stopped eating.

"I know."

"I mean it."

"TeeTee."

"You don't have to explain anything to me."

"Then let me finish."

Por sighed.

TeeTee continued.

"If in the end all you want is friendship, I'll accept it."

The word bothered Por again.

Friendship.

"But I'll need time to do it right."

Por frowned.

"Do what right?"

"Stop expecting something."

That hurt in a strange way.

Por didn't understand why.

"I don't want you to do that."

TeeTee looked up.

"What?"

Por froze.

He had spoken too quickly again.

"Nothing."

"Por."

"I don't want you to disappear again."

"That's not the same thing."

"I know."

"Then what do you want?"

Por opened his mouth.

Nothing.

TeeTee waited.

Por got frustrated.

"I don't know."

TeeTee nodded slowly.

"That's okay."

"Stop saying it's okay."

"What do you want me to say?"

Por rested his arms on the table.

"I don't know."

"That seems to be today's theme."

Por glared at him.

TeeTee smiled.

"Sorry."

Silence.

Por played with the napkin.

"I've never had to think about someone like this."

TeeTee stopped smiling.

Por continued, more quietly.

"I usually either like someone or I don't."

"Uh-huh."

"And if I like someone…"

He shrugged.

"I flirt. That's it."

"I know."

Por raised an eyebrow.

"What do you mean, you know?"

"I've seen you."

"Jealous."

TeeTee lowered his head.

"A little."

Por smiled.

Then grew serious again.

"But with you it's different."

TeeTee didn't move.

Por swallowed.

"And I don't know if I like it."

TeeTee tried to hide his disappointment.

Por saw it.

"I didn't say I don't like you."

TeeTee looked up.

"I said I don't know if I like feeling this way."

That was different.

Very different.

"When you disappeared, I got upset."

Por began counting on his fingers, as if that could make it less personal.

"When you appeared in interviews with that actress, I got upset."

Another finger.

"When you stopped talking to me, I checked my phone."

Another.

TeeTee watched him without saying a single word.

"And when I saw you with her today…"

Por pressed his lips together.

"I wanted to rip her hand off."

TeeTee laughed.

"Don't laugh."

"Sorry."

"You're not sorry."

"Not at all."

Por shook his head.

"Idiot."

TeeTee smiled.

"So maybe—"

"No."

The smile disappeared.

"Don't start naming it."

Por looked directly at him.

"Not yet."

TeeTee nodded.

"Okay."

Por pointed at his face.

"But don't disappear again either."

"I won't."

"Good."

⸻

After eating, they walked for a while.

They weren't touching.

They didn't need to.

But something had changed.

At a corner, they had to stop because the light was red.

Por was looking at his phone when he felt something.

A hand.

TeeTee didn't grab him.

Their fingers just brushed by accident.

Por looked down.

TeeTee pulled his hand away immediately.

"Sorry."

Por looked ahead.

The light was still red.

Then, without looking at him, he moved his own hand a few inches.

Until his fingers touched TeeTee's again.

TeeTee went completely still.

Por didn't do anything else either.

He didn't lace their fingers together.

Didn't grab him.

He simply left his hand there.

Touching him.

The light changed.

Por started walking.

TeeTee walked beside him.

Their hands separated.

Neither said anything about it.

But ten minutes later, TeeTee was still staring at his own hand like an idiot.

⸻

That night, Por was lying in bed when a message came in.

TeeTee.

Did you get home?

Por:

Yes.

TeeTee:

Good.

Two minutes passed.

Por knew he should put the phone down.

He didn't.

He typed:

TeeTee.

The reply came quickly.

Yeah?

Por stared at the keyboard.

Typed a sentence.

Deleted it.

Another.

Deleted that too.

Finally:

I don't want you to try to get over it.

He sent it.

Immediately, he felt like he had made a mistake.

The phone buzzed.

Okay.

Por rolled his eyes.

That's it?

TeeTee:

I'm trying not to scare you.

Por went quiet.

Then smiled.

A little late for that.

TeeTee:

Can I say one more thing then?

Por hesitated.

One thing.

The reply took a moment.

You made me really happy today.

Por stopped smiling.

Not because it bothered him.

Exactly the opposite.

He felt that strange pressure in his chest again.

Only this time, he didn't want to push it away.

He wrote:

Good night, TeeTee.

TeeTee:

Coward.

Por burst out laughing.

I learned from you.

And locked his phone.

But before falling asleep, he read:

You made me really happy today.

Twice.

Then three times.

And that night, for the first time, Por stopped asking himself only what TeeTee felt.

He started wondering what would happen when he finally understood what he felt.

Understanding his feelings didn't fix anything.

In fact, it almost made things worse.

Because now Por knew he missed TeeTee.

And he knew exactly why.

Before, he could call it habit.

Coincidence.

Boredom.

Not anymore.

Now he knew.

The problem was that they weren't spending time together.

None.

Zero.

TeeTee's company had started controlling his schedule with almost absurd precision.

The new series was doing too well.

People liked the pairing with the actress.

The interviews were pulling huge numbers.

Clips were going viral.

And apparently someone had decided Por was a distraction.

They didn't tell him that directly.

Obviously.

They never would.

Things simply started happening.

Por had a campaign in Japan.

TeeTee ended up sent to Italy.

Por appeared in Seoul.

TeeTee had promotion in London.

There was a dinner both of them were being considered for.

Suddenly TeeTee "was no longer available."

A brand asked for both of them.

The company replied that he was already committed to another date.

Once could be coincidence.

Five times wasn't.

Por understood.

And hated it.

⸻

At first, he tried not to make a big deal out of it.

TeeTee was working.

So was he.

That was all.

But then came the messages.

Or rather, the lack of them.

Por:

Did you get there?

Nothing.

Six hours later:

Sorry. Just got out.

Por:

Eat.

The next day:

Sorry. Horrible day.

Por:

Are you okay?

Eight hours.

Yeah. Just tired.

Always the same.

Sorry.

I'm busy.

I'll text you later.

He never texted later.

Not because he didn't want to.

Por knew that.

That was the worst part.

⸻

He started to hate the word "busy."

He would see it and want to throw his phone.

One night, after a campaign in Tokyo, Por was sitting in front of his hotel window when another message arrived.

Sorry. I can't call today either.

Por read it.
He didn't reply.

TeeTee texted again.

I'm not ignoring you.

That hurt more than it should have.

Por typed:

I know.

Nothing else.

Then he put the phone face down.

Five minutes.

Ten.

He looked again.

Nothing new.

Por exhaled.

"Ridiculous."

He didn't know whether he meant TeeTee.

Or himself.

⸻

Weeks had passed like that when he finally found out TeeTee was coming back.

One free week.

Only one.

Then another block of filming started.

Por heard the information indirectly.

Not from TeeTee.

That annoyed him too.

He texted.

You arrive tomorrow?

The reply took two hours.

Yes.

Por:

What time?

Another hour.

Late.

Por:

Okay.

TeeTee:

Sorry.

Por closed his eyes.

That word again.

⸻

The next day, Por didn't ask if he could come over.

He simply went.

He knew the address.

He had been there before.

He knocked once.

Nothing.

Again.

He heard slow footsteps.

The door opened.

And Por felt something drop inside his chest.

TeeTee looked empty.

Not sick.

That would have been simpler.

Just exhausted.

Messy hair.

Loose clothes.

Dark circles under his eyes.

Dull eyes.

None of the energy he usually carried into a room was there.

No smile.

No comment.

No joke.

Just TeeTee.

Tired.

Por stared at him.

"Hi."

TeeTee blinked.

As if seeing Por there took a few seconds to process.

"Por."

His voice came out low.

Por barely had time to answer.

TeeTee hugged him.

Tight.

Without asking.

Without thinking.

He simply wrapped both arms around him and buried his face against Por's shoulder.

Por went completely still.

Not because he minded.

Because he had never seen TeeTee do anything like that.

TeeTee held him tighter.

"Hey."

Nothing.

Por slowly raised his hands.

Placed them on his back.

He felt TeeTee exhale against his neck.

"You're exhausted."

TeeTee nodded without pulling away.

"Yeah."

Por started stroking his back.

Slowly.

"When did you sleep?"

"I don't know."

"That's not an answer."

"Then a long time ago."

Por frowned.

TeeTee was still holding onto him.

As if letting go would require energy he no longer had.

"Come in," he murmured.

Por almost laughed.

"This is your house."

"Oh."

That managed to pull a small smile from him.

Por separated them enough to look at him.

"God."

"What?"

"You look terrible."

TeeTee rested his forehead against Por's shoulder again.

"Thanks."

"You're welcome."

"I missed you."

Por stopped moving.

The sentence had come out without ceremony.

Without any intention to provoke.

Just exhaustion.

Truth.

Por swallowed.

"I missed you too."

TeeTee lifted his head.

"Yeah?"

Por looked at him.

"Don't make that face."

"What face?"

"That abandoned-dog face."

TeeTee gave a weak laugh.

"I can't control my face right now."

"I can tell."

Por started stroking his hair again.

TeeTee closed his eyes.

"I missed you a lot."

This time Por didn't joke.

"Me too."

⸻

They went inside.

The house was too quiet.

Por put his bag on a table.

TeeTee walked behind him.

"Did you eat?"

"Yes."

Por turned.

"Lie."

TeeTee didn't even try to defend himself.

"Not much."

Por opened the refrigerator.

Empty.

"TeeTee."

"I didn't have time to buy anything."

"You got here yesterday."

"I slept."

Por looked back at him.

"At least that."

TeeTee dropped onto the sofa.

Por started checking cupboards.

There was enough to improvise something.

"You don't have to cook."

"I know."

"Por."

"Shut up."

TeeTee smiled again.

Small.

But it was there.

⸻

When Por finished, he found TeeTee asleep on the sofa.

Completely.

One hand still resting on his chest.

Breathing slowly.

Por stood there looking at him.

That was new too.

Months ago he would have woken him.

Now he couldn't.

He walked closer.

Adjusted a pillow beneath him.

Then a blanket.

TeeTee moved.

Barely opened his eyes.

"Don't go."

Por went still.

"I'm not going."

"Promise."

The word came out half-asleep.

Por felt something strong and irritating in his chest.

"I promise."

TeeTee closed his eyes again.

Por sat on the floor beside the sofa.

⸻

Almost two hours passed.

Por answered emails quietly until TeeTee finally woke up.

He looked around.

Then at Por.

"You're still here."

Por raised an eyebrow.

"I promised."

TeeTee slowly sat up.

"Come here."

"What?"

"Just come here."

Por stood.

TeeTee opened one arm.

Por looked at him.

"Seriously?"

TeeTee said nothing.

Just waited.

Por exhaled.

Sat beside him.

TeeTee immediately rested his head on Por's shoulder.

Por didn't complain.

"What did they do to you?"

TeeTee closed his eyes.

"Work."

"That doesn't explain this."

Silence.

"The company's mad at me."

Por turned slightly.

"Why?"

"Because they say I'm distracted."

Por knew the answer before he asked.

"Because of me?"

TeeTee didn't answer.

That was enough.

Por felt anger rise slowly.

"That's why they're keeping our schedules apart?"

TeeTee opened his eyes.

"You noticed."

Por laughed without humor.

"I'm not an idiot."

"I didn't want to tell you."

"Why?"

"Because you'd get angry."

"I am angry."

"Exactly."

Por turned his body toward him.

"And you just accepted it?"

TeeTee looked at him.

"I have a contract."

"That doesn't mean they get to decide who you talk to."

"They don't decide that."

"You can barely even answer me."

TeeTee looked down.

"Sometimes I get fifteen free minutes in an entire day."

Por went quiet.

"And when I do…"

TeeTee smiled faintly.

"I'm trying to sleep."

Por's anger deflated a little.

Not because he stopped being angry.

Because he understood.

TeeTee wasn't rejecting him.

He was surviving.

"They're exploiting you."

TeeTee laughed.

"Welcome to entertainment."

"That's not funny."

"If I don't laugh, I'll cry."

Por looked at him.

TeeTee looked back.

Por remembered the first time.

The fever.

The tears.

The vulnerability.

Now it was different.

But not that different.

Por lifted a hand and touched his face.

TeeTee went still.

"You have one week."

"Yeah."

"You're not working."

"I have two interviews."

Por looked at him.

"Cancel them."

TeeTee laughed.

"It doesn't work like that."

"Then after the interviews, you come back here."

"Here?"

"Yes."

"With you?"

Por felt heat rise to his face.

"Don't push it."

TeeTee smiled.

This time really smiled.

"Okay."

Por lowered his hand.

TeeTee caught it before it could move away.

He just held it.

Didn't lace their fingers together.

Por looked at their hands.

Then at him.

TeeTee looked too tired to hide what he felt.

"I don't want to waste this week."

Por felt his heart speed up.

"Then don't waste it."

TeeTee gently squeezed his hand.

"Stay today."

Por looked at him.

There was nothing provocative in his voice.

Nothing sexual.

Just a request.

Need.

Por nodded.

"I'll stay."

TeeTee closed his eyes.

And rested his head on Por's shoulder again.

⸻

Nothing happened that night.

And that was exactly why it meant so much.

They ate on the sofa.

Watched a movie neither finished.

TeeTee fell asleep again before they got halfway through.

Por ended up under a blanket with TeeTee practically draped against him.

No kiss.

No new confession.

Nothing that could become a headline.

Just two people in a quiet room.

TeeTee breathing deeply for the first time in weeks.

Por running his fingers through TeeTee's hair without realizing it.

And sometime around midnight, TeeTee spoke half-asleep.

"Por."

"What?"

"I like it when you're here."

Por looked down.

TeeTee was asleep again.

Por smiled.

Tiny.

"I like it too."

And that was the first time he said it without being afraid.

Por canceled his schedule the next day.

Not partially.

All of it.

His manager called three times.

On the fourth, Por answered.

"What happened?"

"I'm sick."

Silence.

"Sick?"

Por looked toward the sofa.

TeeTee was still asleep, hugging a pillow as if life owed him something.

"Yes."

"What do you have?"

Por looked at him again.

Hair completely wrecked.

Puffy eyes.

Lips slightly swollen from sleeping too much.

His face buried in the cushion.

"TeeTee."

Silence.

"Excuse me?"

"The illness is TeeTee."

"Por."

"I'm not coming."

And he hung up.

⸻

Then he did the same thing to TeeTee.

TeeTee was sitting in the kitchen looking at his phone when Por took it from his hand.

"What are you doing?"

"Canceling."

"Por."

"No."

"I have an interview tomorrow."

"No."

"You can't say no to my schedule."

Por started typing.

"Look at me."

TeeTee looked at him.

"You're wrecked."

"I'm tired."

"Exactly."

"I'm not sick."

Por raised an eyebrow.

"Worse."

TeeTee gave a tired laugh.

"My manager is going to hate you."

"They can get in line."

⸻

That was how the week started.

No cameras.

No fittings.

No airports.

No brands.

No interviews.

Just them.

And TeeTee, most of the time, attached to Por.

At first, Por thought it was exhaustion.

Then he realized it was something else.

TeeTee seemed to need contact.

Not in a demanding way.

Not sexually.

Just closeness.

He would sit beside Por and end up leaning against him.

Fall asleep with his head on Por's shoulder.

Sometimes simply hug him from behind while Por checked messages.

Or settle against his neck and breathe there, slowly, as if he could finally rest.

Por said nothing.

He just let him.

⸻

One afternoon, TeeTee was practically on top of him on the sofa.

Not completely.

Just reclined against him.

One arm around his waist.

Face hidden in his neck.

Por was reading something on his phone.

He felt warm breath against his skin.

"Are you asleep?"

"No."

"You look dead."

"Thanks."

Por smiled.

Ran a hand through his hair.

TeeTee closed his eyes.

"Don't stop."

Por looked at him.

"So demanding."

"I'm sick."

Por laughed.

"Your illness is me."

"Then it got worse."

"Idiot."

TeeTee shifted closer.

And Por went back to stroking his hair.

Slowly.

Without thinking too much about it.

⸻

Por bought food.

Too much.

Fruit.

Soup.

Bread.

Easy things.

Snacks.

Food he knew TeeTee would actually eat even if he claimed he wasn't hungry.

He brought clothes too.

Though he ended up wearing TeeTee's anyway.

First a T-shirt.

Then trousers.

Then a sweatshirt.

TeeTee saw him come out of the bedroom wearing another one of his shirts.

"That's mine."

Por looked down.

"Now it's mine."

"You've been stealing my clothes for three days."

"You have too many."

"That makes no sense."

"It does to me."

TeeTee stared at him.

The shirt was too big on him.

It slipped off one shoulder.

Por had his hair tied up carelessly.

No makeup.

Nothing.

And TeeTee felt something in his chest.

"What?"

Por had noticed.

"Nothing."

"You're staring."

"Yes."

Por raised an eyebrow.

"And?"

TeeTee smiled faintly.

"I like seeing you like this."

Por didn't answer.

Just kept walking.

But his ears turned red.

⸻

The week became strangely domestic.

Por cooking.

TeeTee washing dishes, though Por always ended up checking whether he'd cleaned them properly.

Movies.

Naps.

Ignored messages.

Coffee.

Clothes tossed around.

One shared blanket.

TeeTee leaning against Por almost all the time.

And Por allowing it.

That was the strangest part.

Because Por had never been an especially clingy person.

Not even with people he liked.

But with TeeTee, it didn't bother him.

Quite the opposite.

Sometimes, when TeeTee moved away to get water, Por noticed the absence.

And that did worry him.

⸻

One night, they ended up lying in bed.

Not because there was any intention behind it.

Simply because TeeTee had fallen asleep first.

Por had gone to turn off the light.

And TeeTee, half-asleep, caught his wrist.

"Stay."

Por looked at him.

"I'm here."

"Here."

He pointed to the space beside him.

Por hesitated.

Only for a second.

Then lay down.

TeeTee immediately turned toward him.

Too close.

Por thought he was going to say something.

He didn't.

He only rested his forehead against Por's chest.

Por felt his breathing.

Slow.

Heavy.
Exhausted.

Then arms wrapped around his waist.

"TeeTee."

"Mmm."

"You're hugging me too tight."

The arms loosened.

"Sorry."

Por closed his eyes.

"I didn't say let go."

TeeTee didn't answer.

But he hugged him again.

Softer.

Por ran a hand over his back.

And stayed like that.

⸻

That was what was starting to scare him.

Not desire.

Desire was easy.

He understood that.

He could look at TeeTee and know he was attractive.

Acknowledge it.

Handle it.

But this…

This was different.

Knowing how he breathed when he was finally resting.

Which side of the bed he preferred.

What he looked like just after waking up.

What food he would accept when he was too tired to decide.

What he did with his hands when he slept.

What expression he wore when he felt safe.

That was much more intimate.

Much more dangerous.

Por could have slept with someone and forgotten them afterward.

Not this.

This stayed.

⸻

On the fourth day, TeeTee woke up with his face pressed against Por's neck.

Por was already awake.

"Good morning."

TeeTee made a strange sound.

"No."

"No what?"

"I don't want to get up."

Por smiled.

"Then don't get up."

TeeTee opened one eye.

"Seriously?"

"Yes."

"Who are you and what did you do with Por?"

Por lightly smacked him on the head.

TeeTee laughed.

Then buried his face in his neck again.

Por felt TeeTee's lips accidentally brush his skin.

Nothing.

It was nothing.

But he went completely still.

So did TeeTee.

"Sorry."

"It's fine."

But it wasn't.

Something was happening.

They both knew it.

Neither moved.

⸻

Por ended up turning slightly.

Now they were face to face.

TeeTee's eyes looked tired.

Still puffy.

But more alive.

Por lifted a hand and brushed the hair off his forehead.

"You look better."

TeeTee smiled.

"Thanks to my illness."

"Don't overuse the joke."

"It was good."

"No."

Silence.

TeeTee looked at him.

Por looked back.

Too long.

"Por."

"What?"

"Does this make you uncomfortable?"

Por knew exactly what he meant.

The bed.

The closeness.

The hands.

Entire days together.

Everything.

"No."

TeeTee seemed to relax.

"Good."

Por didn't look away.

"It scares me a little."

TeeTee went still.

"Why?"

Por took a moment to answer.

"Because it feels too good."

That was enough.

TeeTee didn't smile.

Didn't joke.

He only lifted a hand and gently touched Por's cheek.

"Me too."

Por closed his eyes for a second.

And rested his forehead against TeeTee's.

No kiss.

Not yet.

But they were so close it would have been easier to kiss than to stay still.

And still, they stayed that way.

Breathing the same air.

Holding each other.

Needing nothing else.

Because in that moment, they both understood something.

What they were doing was already more intimate than sex.

And that was exactly why it was so much harder to escape.

The last day began too peacefully.

That was what made it dangerous.

No urgent calls.

No managers knocking on the door.

No schedules.

Just light coming through the curtains, dishes still in the sink, and TeeTee walking through the house with an energy that finally looked like his own again.

Por had fed him too much during the week.

That was obvious.

"I think you made me fat," TeeTee said, looking at himself in the kitchen mirror.

Por didn't even look up from his coffee.

"I fed you."

"My face is rounder."

"You look alive."

"That too."

Por smiled.

"Then stop complaining."

TeeTee came up behind him and rested his chin on Por's shoulder.

It was normal now.

That was the strange part.

TeeTee hugging him while Por made coffee.

Por tilting his head slightly to make room.

Neither of those things needing an explanation.

"I go back tomorrow," TeeTee murmured.

Por set the spoon down.

"I know."

The answer came out drier than he meant it to.

TeeTee noticed.

"Hey."

"What?"

"Don't make that face."

Por turned.

"What face?"

TeeTee smiled.

"The one that says you want to kidnap me for another week."

"I could."

"My company would call the police."

"Let them."

TeeTee laughed.

Por looked at him.

More rested.

Hair still messy.

Eyes bright again.

He no longer looked like the empty version of himself who had opened the door six days earlier.

And that gave Por an absurd sense of satisfaction.

"You're better," Por said.

TeeTee nodded.

"A lot."

"Good."

"Thank you."

Por raised an eyebrow.

"Don't start."

"What?"

"With the sentimental thank-yous."

"I just said thank you."

"Exactly."

TeeTee smiled.

"They make you nervous."

"No."

"Yes."

Por drank his coffee.

"Shut up."

⸻

They spent the afternoon doing nothing.

Literally nothing.

A movie played in the background.

TeeTee sat on the floor, leaning against the sofa.

Por was above him, one leg folded under himself while he checked his phone.

Every now and then TeeTee said something about the movie.

Por wasn't paying attention.

"Are you listening?"

"Yes."

"What did I say?"

"Something."

TeeTee turned his head.

"Incredible."

Por put his phone down.

"I'm tired."

"You didn't do anything this week."

"Taking care of you was a full-time job."

"Lie."

"You cry too much."

TeeTee opened his mouth.

"That happened once."

Por smiled.

"Uh-huh."

"I was sick."

"You were dramatic."

"You're horrible."

Por laughed.

TeeTee kept looking up at him.

Por noticed.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"TeeTee."

"I was just looking."

Por arched an eyebrow.

"What a surprise."

TeeTee smiled.

And Por did something without thinking too much about it.

He leaned down.

Gave him a small kiss on the ear.

Nothing more.

A quick brush.

TeeTee went completely still.

Por pulled back.

And then he saw it.

The ears.

The cheeks.

Even his neck.

Red.

Bright red.

Por blinked.

Then started smiling.

"No."

TeeTee covered his face with one hand.

"Don't say anything."

Por burst out laughing.

"You're red."

"No."

"TeeTee."

"It's hot."

"The air conditioning is on."

"It doesn't work well."

Por stared at him, fascinated.

"You're adorable."

TeeTee immediately turned away.

"No."

"Yes."

"Don't use that word for me."

Por smiled even more.

"Why?"

"Because no."

Por leaned in again.

TeeTee saw him coming.

He didn't move.

Por kissed his cheek.

TeeTee stopped breathing.

Por pulled back just a little.

"Was that the air conditioner too?"

TeeTee looked at him.

His throat had gone dry.

Literally.

"Por."

"What?"

Por moved closer again.

Another kiss.

This time on the tip of his nose.

TeeTee closed his eyes for a second.

"You're playing with me."

Por shook his head.

"No."

And that was worse.

Because he didn't look like he was playing.

Por was looking at him calmly.

Curiously.

As if he were discovering something.

He held TeeTee's jaw with two fingers.

TeeTee stayed still.

Another kiss.

On his chin.

Soft.

Brief.

And nothing more.

TeeTee opened his eyes.

Por was still close.

Too close.

TeeTee could feel his breathing.

Could see every tiny movement of his eyes.

And then the world narrowed down to one thing.

Por's mouth.

TeeTee swallowed.

His lips tingled.

It was ridiculous.

After so many months.

After imagining it.

After shoots where they had ended up inches apart.

After sleeping wrapped around each other for almost a week.

He could do it.

He only had to lean in a little.

That was all.

Por was right there.

But TeeTee didn't move.

Por noticed.

"What?"

TeeTee shook his head.

"Nothing."

Por narrowed his eyes.

"Liar."

TeeTee smiled faintly.

"I want to kiss you."

Por went still.

The confession came without charm.

Without provocation.

Without the confidence TeeTee usually had.

Just truth.

"A lot," he added.

Por lowered his eyes to his mouth.

TeeTee felt his heart start pounding too hard.

"Then do it," Por murmured.

TeeTee didn't move.

Por looked up again.

"TeeTee?"

He slowly shook his head.

"No."

Por frowned.

"You don't want to?"

"I do."

"Then I don't understand."

TeeTee breathed.

"I want you to do it."

Por stopped speaking.

TeeTee looked straight at him.

"I know it sounds stupid."

"A little."

TeeTee gave a nervous laugh.

"But I want to know you're not doing it because I've been after you for months."

Por watched him.

"I don't want to keep asking until you say yes because you got tired of me."

Por's smile disappeared.

TeeTee continued.

"I want that if it happens…"

He swallowed.

"It's because you wanted to kiss me."

Por said nothing.

Just looked at him.

And TeeTee had to fight the urge to close the distance.

It was hard.

Very hard.

But he stayed still.

His hands on his own legs.

Waiting.

Giving Por space.

Por slowly ran his thumb along TeeTee's jaw.

"You're so stupid."

TeeTee smiled faintly.

"You tell me that a lot."

"Because you are."

Por leaned in.

TeeTee stopped breathing.

But Por changed direction at the last second.

Another kiss on the cheek.

TeeTee closed his eyes.

"Cruel."

Por laughed against his skin.

Then another kiss on the other cheek.

TeeTee looked at him.

"Por."

"What?"

"You're going to kill me."

Por smiled.

"Dramatic."

TeeTee didn't answer.

His mouth still tingled.

More now.

Por pulled back a little.

Enough to see him fully.

Red.

Nervous.

Waiting.

The same person who could flirt in front of hundreds of cameras now looked completely defenseless because of four innocent kisses.

Por felt something warm settle in his chest.

TeeTee wasn't trying to win.

Wasn't trying to convince him.

Wasn't even moving closer.

He was waiting.

Por was the one who leaned in again.

This time, he didn't change direction.

At first, his lips barely brushed TeeTee's.

So softly it could almost not be called a kiss.

TeeTee went completely still.

Por pulled back an inch.

Looked at him.

"Was that what you wanted?"

TeeTee slowly opened his eyes.

"Again."

Por smiled.

"Demanding."

"Please."

That did it.

Por kissed him again.

A little longer.

Nothing rushed.

Nothing desperate.

TeeTee lifted a hand on instinct.

Stopped before touching him.

Por opened his eyes.

Saw the hand suspended there.

And took TeeTee by the wrist.

Guided it to his waist.

"You can touch me."

TeeTee let out a shaky breath.

His fingers gently closed over the fabric.

Without pulling.

Without bringing Por any closer than he already was.

And Por kissed him again.

⸻

When they pulled apart, TeeTee was still red.

Very red.

Por rested his forehead against TeeTee's.

"I didn't think you were this shy."

"I'm not."

"Sure."

"Only with you."

Por stopped smiling.

So did TeeTee.

Because that had come out too honestly.

Por gently stroked his hair.

"You leave tomorrow."

TeeTee nodded.

"Yeah."

"And you'll be busy again."

"Yes."

"And you probably won't answer."

Guilt appeared on his face immediately.

"I'll try—"

"No."

Por shook his head.

"I'm not accusing you."

Silence.

Then he added:

"I'm just going to miss you."

TeeTee closed his eyes.

As if the words hurt and healed him at the same time.

He hugged Por.

Por ended up half-sitting on him, arms around his neck.

TeeTee hid his face against his chest.

"Now I really don't want to go back."

Por stroked his hair.

"You have to."

"I know."

"And I have work too."

"I know."

"And this…"

Por hesitated.

TeeTee lifted his head.

"This what?"

Por looked at him.

He couldn't call them colleagues anymore.

Or almost good friends.

That would have been absurd.

"I don't know yet."

TeeTee nodded.

He didn't look disappointed.

"That's okay."

Por smiled.

"But we are definitely not colleagues anymore."

TeeTee burst out laughing.

"Thank God."

Por kissed his forehead again.

"Don't get excited."

"Too late."

And nothing else happened that night either.

But TeeTee slept with one hand on Por's waist.

Por with his face hidden against TeeTee's chest.

And every time either of them woke during the night, the other was still there.

After so many months of wanting him, TeeTee's first kiss didn't end in bed because of desire.

It ended in something that was beginning to be much harder for both of them to find.

Safety.

After that week, TeeTee started doing something that once seemed impossible.

Making time.

Not much.

Sometimes ten minutes.

Sometimes five.

Sometimes literally from a bathroom between interviews.

But he always found some.

Did you eat?

I'm here.

I'm tired.

I saw your campaign.

You look way too good and it annoys me.

I miss you.

That last one took him three days to work up the nerve to send.

Por replied:

dramatic

And then:

me too

TeeTee read that message so many times he ended up memorizing it.

⸻

Promotion for the series was brutal.

The series was already out.

That made everything worse.

Interviews.

Events.

Fan meetings.

Lives.
Photocalls.

Planes.

Hotels.

Another city.

Another country.

Another night arriving so exhausted he couldn't even remember taking his shoes off.

And still, he thought about Por.

Constantly.

He mentioned him without meaning to.

"What kind of fashion do you like?"

"Por knows more about that than I do."

"Have you been to Milan recently?"

"Yeah. Por was there not long ago too."

"What do you do when you have free time?"

TeeTee would smile.

"Lately I try to rest."

Pause.

"Por makes me."

Every time he said his name, someone on the team looked at him.

TeeTee learned to pretend he didn't notice.

⸻

But there was something else he couldn't stop thinking about.

His house.

After that week, it felt empty.

Ridiculously empty.

It had never bothered him before.

He came home.

Slept.

Left.

It was a place to leave clothes and charge his phone.

Now he saw the sofa and remembered Por sitting there in one of his shirts.

He opened the fridge and remembered everything Por had bought.

He found a mug and knew exactly which one Por had used.

A T-shirt disappeared and TeeTee knew who had probably packed it in his suitcase "by accident."

And every time he walked in alone, he thought the same thing.

Stay.

Then:

Live with me.

And that was where he scared himself.

Because you couldn't just text someone:

Hi. I like you. We kissed once. Do you want to move in with me?

That was insane.

Even for him.

⸻

One night, he was sitting on his hotel bed staring at their chat.

Por had sent a photo.

Just his legs stretched out on a sofa and his grandmother's Birkin beside him.

done for today

TeeTee smiled.

He typed:

Come with me.

He stared at it.

No.

Deleted it.

Typed:

When I get back I want to talk to you.

Worse.

It sounded like a breakup.

Deleted.

Do you want to stay with me for a few days?

Too casual.

Deleted.

He threw the phone onto the bed.

"Fuck."

His castmate, sitting on the other side of the room reading a script, looked up.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"You've been typing and deleting for ten minutes."

TeeTee closed his eyes.

"I want to ask someone something."

"Then ask."

"It's complicated."

"Marriage?"

TeeTee opened his eyes.

"What?"

"The face you're making."

"No."

Pause.

"Not yet."

The other person stared at him.

TeeTee stood up immediately.

"Forget I said that."

⸻

The idea kept growing.

He didn't want Por to give up his own home.

Or his things.

Or officially "move in" tomorrow.

He understood that too.

What TeeTee wanted was for there to be space for him.

A key.

Clothes.

Products in the bathroom.

Food he liked.

For Por to be able to finish a campaign and go there without asking.

For them not to have to wait three months to feel normal around each other again.

He wanted to come home from filming and find him there.

That was all.

Even if "all" was a lot.

⸻

Another week passed.

They only managed to video call twice.

The first lasted twelve minutes.

The second, six.

During the second, Por was lying down.

No makeup.

Hair damp.

TeeTee was sitting on the floor of a dressing room.

"You look dead," Por said.

"I'm doing great."

"Liar."

"I have twenty minutes to change."

"Then sleep for ten."

"I wanted to see you."

Por went quiet.

TeeTee smiled.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"You got weird."

"No."

"Yes."

Por rolled his eyes.

"I miss you."

TeeTee stopped smiling.

"Again."

"Don't push it."

"Say it again."

"No."

"Por."

"Shut up."

TeeTee laughed.

Someone knocked on the door.

"Five minutes."

TeeTee closed his eyes.

"I have to go."

Por nodded.

"Go."

TeeTee didn't hang up.

Neither did Por.

"TeeTee."

"Yeah?"

"What?"

Because TeeTee was still staring at him.

"Nothing."

"Lie."

TeeTee swallowed.

There it was again.

The question.

Live with me.

He couldn't do it.

"I'll text you later."

Por watched him.

"Okay."

They hung up.

TeeTee rested his head against the wall.

Coward.

⸻

When they finally crossed paths again, it was for a brand.

Por arrived first.

TeeTee appeared almost an hour later, straight from the airport.

And the moment he saw him, everything he had been thinking about for weeks came rushing back.

Por wore a simple T-shirt.

Gray trousers.

Dark sunglasses on top of his head.

Nothing spectacular.

TeeTee thought he was the most beautiful person he had ever seen.

Por saw him.

And smiled.

Not for cameras.

For him.

That decided it.

⸻

The shoot ended late.

TeeTee was exhausted.

So was Por.

But when they started saying goodbye, TeeTee gently caught him by the sleeve.

"Wait."

Por turned.

"What?"

TeeTee opened his mouth.

Nothing.

Por frowned.

"TeeTee."

"I have to ask you something."

"That sounds serious."

"It's not serious."

"Then say it."

TeeTee looked around.

Too many people.

"Not here."

Por raised an eyebrow.

"Are you kidnapping me again?"

"Maybe."

⸻

They ended up in the car.

Parked.

Not moving.

Por waited.

TeeTee had his hands on the steering wheel even though the car was off.

"This is ridiculous."

Por crossed his arms.

"Very."

TeeTee breathed.

"I want you to come with me."

Por blinked.

"Where?"

"No."

TeeTee shook his head.

"That's the problem."

"I don't understand."

TeeTee turned toward him.

"To my house."

Por looked at him.

"I've been there."

"I know."

"TeeTee."

"I mean…"

He closed his eyes for a second.

"I want you to have things there."

Por stopped moving.

TeeTee kept going before he lost his nerve.

"Clothes. Your products. Whatever you want."

"What are you saying?"

"I don't know."

TeeTee gave a nervous laugh.

"I'm doing this terribly."

Por didn't laugh.

He just watched him.

"I'm not asking you to leave your place tomorrow."

"Okay."

"Or change everything."

"Okay."

"I don't even know what we are yet."

Por raised an eyebrow.

TeeTee smiled weakly.

"That sounded worse."

"A lot worse."

"But…"

TeeTee looked down.

"I miss you too much."

Por went still.

"And we almost never have time."

"I know."

"When you were with me that week…"

TeeTee swallowed.

"My house felt different."

Por slowly uncrossed his arms.

"Different how?"

TeeTee looked at him.

"Like home."

That was enough to make Por stop breathing for a second.

TeeTee continued, more quietly.

"And when you left, it felt empty again."

Por looked out the window.

He needed to.

Because TeeTee was saying too much.

And he was feeling too much.

"So you want me to live with you."

"I want you to be able to."

Por looked back at him.

That was different.

"Be able to?"

TeeTee nodded.

"If you want."

Pause.

"A key."

Another silence.

"A space."

Por felt his heart beating too hard.

"I don't want you to have to ask whether you can come over."

TeeTee smiled faintly.

"I want you to just show up."

Por let out a breath.

"You realize this is almost asking someone to move in with you."

"Yes."

"After one kiss."

"There were several."

Por looked at him.

"Kisses on the face don't count."

"They count to me."

Por tried not to smile.

Failed.

TeeTee saw it.

"Is that good?"

"Shut up."

"Por."

"I'm thinking."

"Okay."

Silence.

Por looked at his hands.

Then at TeeTee's.

"Would you have room for my clothes?"

It took TeeTee a second to understand.

Then his eyes widened.

"Yes."

Por looked at him.

"I have a lot."

"I'll buy another closet."

Por laughed.

"Idiot."

"Does that mean yes?"

"It means I can leave some things there."

TeeTee smiled.

Big.

Too big.

Por pointed at his face.

"Don't do that."

"What?"

"You look way too happy."

"I am way too happy."

Por shook his head.

But he was smiling too.

TeeTee leaned slightly toward him.

Stopped before getting too close.

Por noticed.

He always waited.

Por still liked that.

So Por was the one who closed the distance.

A short kiss.

Soft.

Then he pulled away.

"One key."

TeeTee looked at him.

"One key."

"And one drawer."

"As many as you want."

"Don't push it."

"Sorry."

Por rested his head against the seat.

"This is a terrible idea."

TeeTee smiled.

"Probably."

Por looked at him.

"Then let's do it slowly."

TeeTee's smile changed.

Softer.

"Slowly."

And for the first time, the distance between them stopped feeling completely out of their control.

And that was how, almost without realizing it, their lives started blending together.

Not all at once.

Not with a serious conversation or a date marked on the calendar.

It just happened.

One of Por's T-shirts appeared among TeeTee's.

Then two.

Then hair products in the bathroom.

A perfume beside TeeTee's.

A cream.

A charger.

Shoes by the door.

A travel bag that stopped being a travel bag because it never left again.

And at some point it stopped feeling like TeeTee's house where Por stayed over.

It was their house.

Even if neither of them said it yet.

⸻

The first thing TeeTee noticed was the smell.

One night he came home from filming, opened the door, and stopped.

It smelled like Por.

His perfume.

The cream he used after showering.

Something slightly sweet that always lingered in his hair.

TeeTee closed the door behind him and smiled like an idiot.

Por appeared from the kitchen.

He was wearing one of TeeTee's shirts.

Again.

"What are you doing standing there?"

TeeTee shook his head.

"Nothing."

"You look weird."

"The house smells like you."

Por blinked.

Then looked around.

"And?"

TeeTee set down his keys.

"I like it."

Por rolled his eyes.

But smiled.

"Dramatic."

TeeTee walked closer.

Hugged him.

Por immediately put down what he was holding and wrapped his arms around TeeTee's neck.

TeeTee buried his face in his shoulder.

"Now you smell like me."

Por laughed.

"Because I'm wearing your clothes."

"Exactly."

"I don't know why that makes you so happy."

TeeTee held him tighter.

"I do."

⸻

Sleeping together became normal too.

Too quickly.

At first, each had his own side.

Theoretically.

Because TeeTee always ended up moving.

Por would wake with one of TeeTee's legs between his.

An arm around his waist.

His face buried against Por's chest.

Or with TeeTee simply taking up more than half his pillow.

One morning, Por opened his eyes and found him asleep on his back.

Hair completely wrecked.

Lips slightly swollen from sleep.

Breathing peacefully.

And those eyelashes.

Ridiculously long.

Por stared at him.

Awake, TeeTee was too much.

Talked too much.

Smiled too much.

Annoyed him too much.

Asleep…

He was adorable.

Por lifted a hand.

Brushed a strand of hair away from his face.

TeeTee didn't react.

Por smiled.

Then leaned down and kissed his forehead.

Nothing.

Another on one cheek.

TeeTee stayed asleep.

Por took advantage.

One on his nose.

Then on the other cheek.

"Taking advantage of me," TeeTee suddenly murmured.

Por froze.

TeeTee opened one eye.

"You were awake."

"Since the second one."

Por shoved him.

"Idiot."

TeeTee started laughing and caught him before he could move away.

"No, no, keep going."

"No."

"Por."

"You ruined the moment."

TeeTee wrapped his arms around his waist.

"I can go back to sleep."

"Let go of me."

"No."

Por tried to keep a straight face.

It lasted about three seconds.

⸻

TeeTee was terrible at cooking.

Not bad.

Terrible.

Por discovered that after TeeTee tried to make him breakfast one morning and nearly burned a pan.

"How do you do that with eggs?"

"I don't know."

"They're eggs."

"I got distracted."

"By what?"

TeeTee looked at him.

Por was wearing only a long T-shirt.

Por closed his eyes.

"Don't answer."

"You asked."

From then on, TeeTee adopted another strategy.

Buying things.

If he had to leave early, he left breakfast.

Croissants.

Cut fruit.

Coffee exactly how Por liked it.

Sometimes something sweet.

Too sweet.

Por always said he didn't want dessert.

He always ate it.

TeeTee knew that.

That was why he came home with little boxes.

"No."

"You don't even know what it is."

"Dessert."

"It could be something else."

"It has a pink bow."

"Open it."

Por would open it.

And five minutes later he'd be eating.

TeeTee never said anything.

He just watched him.

"Stop staring."

"I'm not staring."

"Liar."

⸻

Then came the flowers.

Not huge arrangements.

Por would have thought that was ridiculous.

Small things.

Tulips because Por had once stopped in front of a flower shop to look at them.

Peonies after he said during a campaign that he liked them.

One strange branch TeeTee bought because it "looked editorial."

Por stared at it for a full minute.

"This looks like a dead plant."

"It cost a lot."

"You got scammed."

"I thought you'd like it."

Por put it in a vase.

Left it there for two weeks.

⸻

And then there were the little things.

Those were the worst.

Por mentioned something once.

One time.

TeeTee remembered.
A book.

A keychain.

A drink.

A face mask.

An accessory.

Even one ridiculous mug Por had seen in a store and said was ugly.

TeeTee bought it for him.

"I said it was ugly."

"You stared at it for a long time."

"Because it was horrible."

"Now it's yours."

Por used it every day.

⸻

But the notes were what really started to destroy him.

TeeTee left too early.

A lot of the time, Por was still asleep.

So TeeTee started leaving pieces of paper.

On the fridge.

On the mirror.

On top of his coffee.

Inside Por's bag.

Eat.

Underneath, a drawing of something that was supposed to be a spoon.

Por spent five minutes trying to figure it out.

Another:

I'll be back late. Don't wait up for me.

And underneath, a drawing of TeeTee lying down.

At least that was what TeeTee claimed it was.

Por thought it looked like a cockroach.

Another:

Good luck today. You're going to look beautiful.

Beside it, he had tried to draw Por.

It was offensively bad.

Por took a picture.

He texted:

are you insulting me?

TeeTee replied:

IT'S ART

Por:

i look like a mosquito

TeeTee:

a beautiful mosquito

Por kept the note.

He kept all the earlier ones too.

He didn't tell TeeTee.

He had a box.

A small one.

They were all inside.

Even the stupidest ones.

Especially the stupidest ones.

⸻

TeeTee found the box by accident.

He was looking for a charger.

"Por."

Silence.

"Por."

From the bathroom:

"What?"

"Come here."

"I'm busy."

"I found something."

That got Por to appear.

He saw the open box.

Stopped.

TeeTee had a note between his fingers.

One of the first ones.

water. food. miss you.

With a horribly drawn heart.

TeeTee looked at him.

"You keep them."

Por walked toward him.

"Give it to me."

TeeTee raised his hand.

"No."

"TeeTee."

"You keep all of them."

Por tried to take it.

TeeTee caught him around the waist.

"That's adorable."

"I'm going to kill you."

"You used to call me dramatic and you have a historical archive."

"Let go of me."

TeeTee was smiling far too much.

Por finally managed to get the note back.

He put it away again.

"Don't touch that box again."

TeeTee rested his chin on Por's shoulder.

"You like them."

"No."

"Por."

"Shut up."

"You like them."

Por turned his head.

Gave him a quick kiss.

"That buys your silence."

TeeTee smiled.

"I'm going to make more."

"No."

"Lots more."

"TeeTee."

"With better drawings."

"That's impossible."

⸻

What TeeTee looked forward to most, though, was coming home.

Some nights he returned at eleven.

Others at one in the morning.

Sometimes later.

He came home exhausted.

Makeup still lingering on part of his neck.

Hair destroyed after being styled too many times.

A headache.

His throat dry from talking for hours.

And Por was there.

Sometimes awake on the sofa.

Sometimes half-asleep.

Sometimes watching a movie.

Sometimes with a book.

But he was there.

TeeTee would open the door.

Por would look up.

And then simply open his arms.

That was all.

TeeTee didn't have to ask.

He dropped whatever he was carrying wherever he could and walked straight to him.

Por received him.

Always.

TeeTee would collapse onto the sofa and bury his face in Por's neck.

Por would wrap his arms around his back.

"Bad day?"

TeeTee would mutter something unintelligible.

"Thought so."

And they stayed like that.

Five minutes.

Ten.

Sometimes half an hour.

They didn't talk.

They didn't need to.

⸻

One night TeeTee got home close to two.

He expected Por to be asleep.

He opened the door carefully.

The living room was dark except for one lamp.

Por was there.

Wrapped in a blanket.

TeeTee frowned.

"Why are you awake?"

Por yawned.

"I was waiting for you."

"I told you to sleep."

"You're not my dad."

TeeTee put his bag down.

"Por."

Por opened his arms.

The argument ended immediately.

TeeTee crossed the room.

Dropped against him.

Por wrapped the blanket around both of them.

TeeTee closed his eyes.

"Hi."

Por laughed softly.

"Hi."

"I missed you."

"You saw me this morning."

"That was too long ago."

Por ran his fingers through his hair.

TeeTee breathed against his neck.

"You smell good."

"You smell like a studio."

"How romantic."

"And like perfume that isn't yours."

TeeTee opened one eye.

"They sprayed like six on me."

Por grimaced.

"Horrible."

"Jealous."

"No."

TeeTee smiled against his neck.

"A little."

Por gently tugged his hair.

"Sleep."

⸻

TeeTee stayed still for a moment.

Then lifted his head.

Por looked at him.

"What?"

TeeTee didn't answer.

Just watched him.

Por without makeup.

Half-asleep.

Wearing one of his shirts.

Waiting for him at two in the morning.

And he felt something so big it almost hurt.

"What?" Por repeated.

TeeTee smiled.

"Nothing."

"You're being weird again."

"I'm happy."

Por stopped playing with his hair.

"Oh."

"Very."

Por looked at him for a few seconds.

Then pulled him close again.

"Then stop talking and enjoy it."

TeeTee laughed.

Buried himself in his neck again.

And thought that this was exactly what he had wanted when he asked Por to leave things at his house.

Except he had gotten so much more.

Not a key.

Not clothes in a closet.

Not someone sleeping beside him.

He had gotten a place where, after spending all day being TeeTee for everyone else, he could open a door and not have to be anything at all.

Por was there.

And that was enough.

The season slowed down.

Finally.

The series was still doing well, but the most intense promotional phase was over. They no longer had to push the on-screen pairing in every interview. There weren't ten cameras following him and the actress around. He no longer had to smile for hours as if he weren't exhausted.

And TeeTee got something back that he hadn't had in months.

Time.

Not a lot.

But enough.

Enough to take Por to the park on a Tuesday afternoon.

Enough to show up with coffee without checking the clock every thirty seconds.

Enough to sit in a restaurant and finish an entire meal without someone calling to tell him he had to leave.

Por noticed the change immediately.

TeeTee was lighter.

More talkative.

More himself.

"You're unbearable again," Por said one afternoon.

TeeTee smiled.

"That means I'm recovered."

"I preferred you sick."

"Liar."

Por bumped him lightly with his shoulder.

TeeTee took the opportunity to grab his hand.

Por didn't let go.

⸻

They had started going to normal places.

Or as normal as places could be for them.

Parks.

Small cafés.

Restaurants TeeTee specifically found because they had hidden tables.

Shops.

Walks at night.

Nothing too elaborate.

Por discovered he liked it much better this way.

No impossible reservations.

No brand photographers.

No stylists.

Just TeeTee in a badly fitted cap and Por telling him he looked suspicious.

TeeTee, for his part, had developed a habit.

Dessert.

Always.

"I don't want any," Por would say.

"I didn't ask."

"I'm not hungry."

"Perfect."

And TeeTee would order something.

Five minutes later, Por was eating it.

TeeTee didn't even comment anymore.

He simply pushed the plate toward him.

Por would look at him.

"Don't smile."

"I'm not smiling."

"Yes, you are."

TeeTee would look down.

"Eat."

⸻

Something else started happening.

The biting.

Por wasn't exactly sure when it began.

One time they were sitting on the sofa.

Por had his arm resting across TeeTee.

TeeTee looked at him.

Then at his arm.

And gave him a small bite.

Por immediately pulled his arm away.

"What are you doing?"

TeeTee looked at him as if nothing had happened.

"Nothing."

"You bit me."

"Softly."

"That's still biting."

TeeTee smiled.

"You look adorable when you get annoyed."

Por pointed at him.

"Don't do it again."

The next day, he did it again.

On his shoulder.

Very softly.

No mark.

Por laughed.

"TeeTee."

"I can't help it."

"What are you, a dog?"

"Maybe."

Then it was his cheek.

A tiny bite.

Por pushed his face away.

"You're sick."

TeeTee laughed.

"You're too cute."

"That doesn't give you the right to eat me."

"I'm not eating you."

"You literally just—"

TeeTee tried to lean in again.

Por put a hand on his forehead to stop him.

They both ended up laughing.

It was stupid.

Private.

Theirs.

And precisely because of that, neither thought much about it.

Until someone took a picture.

⸻

It happened at the park.

A quiet afternoon.

Por was wearing dark sunglasses.

TeeTee a cap.

They had bought something to drink and sat far from the main area.

They weren't doing anything.

Por was talking.

TeeTee was barely listening.

He was looking at him.

Por noticed.

"What?"

TeeTee shook his head.

"Nothing."

"That face again."

"What face?"

"The one where you're thinking something stupid."

TeeTee smiled.

Por kept talking.

TeeTee leaned in.

And gave him the tiniest bite on the cheek.

Por went still.

"TeeTee."

"Sorry."

He didn't look sorry.

Por laughed.

Shoved him lightly.

TeeTee ended up resting his head against Por's shoulder.

Por ruffled his hair.

Nothing.

Literally nothing.

A completely innocent scene.

Then, almost forty meters away, a camera fired.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

Neither of them saw it.

⸻

The photos appeared that night.

First on a small account.

Then everywhere.

One image of Por laughing.

Another of TeeTee leaning toward him.

And the worst one.

The exact moment of the bite.

TeeTee's mouth against Por's cheek.

Por's hand in his hair.

The closeness.

The naturalness.

It didn't look like a campaign.

It didn't look like work.

It didn't look like fanservice.

It looked exactly like what it was.

Intimacy.

⸻

TeeTee was at home when his phone started exploding.

Calls.

Messages.

His manager.

Production.

The company.

Por appeared from the kitchen.

"What's wrong?"

TeeTee didn't answer immediately.

He just stared at the screen.

Por walked closer.

"TeeTee."

He lifted the phone.

Por saw the photo.

Silence.

"Oh."

TeeTee exhaled.

"Yeah."

"Could be worse."

TeeTee looked at him.

"Por."

"We're not naked."

"That doesn't help."

Por grabbed his own phone.

There were already headlines.

TEETEE AND POR CLOSER THAN EVER

SECRET ROMANCE?

THE PHOTO THAT CHANGES EVERYTHING

FANS QUESTION TEETEE'S NEW IMAGE

Por stopped reading.

"How dramatic."

TeeTee's phone rang again.

He answered.

"Yes."

Pause.

His expression changed.

"No."

Another pause.

"It wasn't a campaign."

Por looked at him.

TeeTee walked away a little.

"I'm not saying that."

Silence.

"Because it would be a lie."

Por felt something cold settle in his chest.

TeeTee kept listening.

His jaw getting tighter and tighter.

"Then we'll talk tomorrow."

He hung up.

Por stayed still.

"What do they want?"

TeeTee put the phone down.

"They want me to say it was a joke between friends."

Por didn't answer.

"And that there's nothing going on."

More silence.

Por looked away.

"That's easy."

TeeTee raised his head.

"No."

"TeeTee."

"I don't want to do it."

"You don't have to say we're together."

"I don't want to deny you."

That made Por go completely still.

TeeTee took a deep breath.

"Not after all this."

Por lowered his gaze.

"Your contract."

TeeTee didn't answer.

That was enough.

"What about your contract?"

TeeTee sat down.

"They say I'm damaging the image of the series."

Por let out a dry laugh.

"The series is already out."

"I know."

"The heavy promotion is already over."

"I know."

"Then what the fuck?"

TeeTee dragged both hands over his face.

"The company says if this keeps growing, they're going to review my contract."

Por felt his stomach tighten.

"Review it how?"

TeeTee took too long.

"Termination."

Por stopped breathing for a second.

"Over a photo?"

"It's not just the photo."

"Then what?"

"They think I've been difficult for months."

Por understood.

Phrem.

The new pairing.

Him.

Everything.

"TeeTee."

"I'm fine."

"Don't say that."

TeeTee looked up.

"I'm fine."

"They could fire you."

"I know."

"Because of me."

TeeTee stood immediately.

"No."

"The photo is with me."

"That doesn't mean it's because of you."

"TeeTee."

"No."

He moved closer.

"I'm not going to let you do that."

Por frowned.

"Do what?"

"Turn this into guilt."

Por exhaled.

"But—"

"You didn't do anything."

TeeTee was serious now.

"I bit you."

Por almost laughed.

It wasn't the moment.

But almost.

TeeTee continued.

"I agreed to go out.

I knew people could see us.

I decided not to deny anything.

That's mine."

Por looked at him.

"But your career—"

"Isn't worth more than you."

Silence.

TeeTee seemed to realize what he had just said.
Por too.

"Don't say things like that when I'm upset," Por murmured.

TeeTee smiled faintly.

"They're true even when you're upset."

Por looked down.

⸻

The next day, the meeting lasted almost three hours.

TeeTee came out exhausted.

His manager was pale.

The company wanted an immediate statement.

Public distance.

No appearing together.

No comments.

No insinuations.

Nothing that could feed the rumors.

And above all, no Por.

TeeTee listened to all of it.

Then asked:

"And if I don't?"

The director looked at him.

"Then we reconsider your position here."

TeeTee nodded slowly.

"I understand."

"Good."

"That doesn't mean I agree."

Silence.

His manager closed their eyes.

The director rested both hands on the table.

"TeeTee."

"I'm not putting out a statement saying Por means nothing."

"No one asked you to phrase it that way."

"That's what you want it to look like."

"We're trying to protect your career."

TeeTee laughed without humor.

"Funny."

"What does that mean?"

"When someone was making me uncomfortable, protecting my career meant smiling."

The room went still.

"And now that I'm good with someone, protecting my career means hiding him."

No one answered.

TeeTee stood.

"I need to think about it."

⸻

When he got home, Por was sitting on the sofa.

Waiting for him.

Like always.

But this time he didn't open his arms.

TeeTee immediately knew something was wrong.

"Hey."

Por looked at him.

"I'm going home for a few days."

TeeTee went still.

"What?"

"To my place."

"Why?"

Por swallowed.

"Because this is getting worse."

"No."

"TeeTee."

"No."

He came closer.

"Don't do that."

"Do what?"

"Decide for me."

Por looked at him.

"They can terminate your contract."

"I know."

"And that doesn't matter to you?"

"Of course it matters."

TeeTee's voice cracked slightly.

"But you matter too."

Por lowered his eyes.

"That's exactly why."

TeeTee understood.

And the understanding hurt worse.

Por was trying to protect him.

Again.

Except this time protecting him meant leaving.

"I don't want you to go."

Por didn't answer.

TeeTee stepped closer.

"I don't want to walk in here again and find you gone."

Por clenched his jaw.

"It's temporary."

"I don't care."

"TeeTee."

"Por."

Silence.

TeeTee looked exhausted again.

Not physically.

Something worse.

"Do you remember when you said this was more intimate than sex?"

Por slowly looked up.

"Yes."

"This is too."

TeeTee gestured around them.

"You here.

Your things.

Waiting for me.

Sleeping with me.

All of it."

He breathed.

"I don't want to pretend none of that exists because someone took a photo."

Por felt his eyes start to burn.

He hated that.

"I don't want to ruin your life."

TeeTee shook his head.

"The best part of my life right now is you."

That broke something in Por a little.

He lowered his head.

TeeTee moved closer.

He didn't touch him yet.

He waited.

Por finally opened his arms.

TeeTee practically fell into them.

He hugged him.

Tight.

Por hid his face against his neck.

"You're an idiot."

TeeTee closed his eyes.

"Yeah."

"They could fire you."

"Yeah."

"This isn't romantic."

"I know."

"I'm scared."

TeeTee tightened the hug.

"Me too."

Por lifted his head.

"Then what do we do?"

TeeTee looked at him.

This time he didn't have a pretty answer.

Or a solution.

Or a joke.

Only the truth.

"I don't know."

Por nodded.

"Okay."

And they stayed there, holding each other.

Because for the first time since all of this had started, the problem wasn't that one of them felt more than the other.

It was that the world around them had started demanding they decide how much they were willing to lose for feeling this way.

The company didn't fire TeeTee.

Not officially.

It did something more cowardly.

It stopped giving him things.

First, an interview disappeared.

Then a campaign.

Then an event.

A meeting that "got moved."

A project that "no longer fit his image."

His schedule, which months earlier had looked impossible, started emptying out.

Too much.

TeeTee noticed.

So did his manager.

"They're freezing you out."

TeeTee looked at the schedule.

"I can see that."

"We can fight it."

"I don't know if it's worth it."

His manager looked up.

"You're not worried?"

TeeTee shrugged.

"I can work with other companies."

And it was true.

He didn't depend entirely on them.

There were brands.

Production companies.

International representatives.

Other contracts.

TeeTee was angry.

But not destroyed.

Por, on the other hand, was furious.

⸻

"That's punishment."

TeeTee was lying on the sofa while Por paced back and forth.

"Probably."

"Don't say probably."

"Okay. It's punishment."

Por turned toward him.

"And you're this calm about it?"

"What do you want me to do?"

"Be angry."

TeeTee smiled.

"You're angry enough for both of us."

Por threw a cushion at him.

TeeTee caught it.

"This isn't funny."

"I'm not laughing at that."

"Looks like it."

TeeTee sat up.

"Por."

He stopped.

"I'm going to be fine."

Por clenched his jaw.

"I don't like it."

"I know."

"It's unfair."

"I know."

Por looked at him.

Then exhaled.

"I'm going to Japan."

TeeTee nodded.

"In three days."

"Two weeks."

"I know."

"And I don't want to go."

TeeTee frowned.

"Of course you're going."

"TeeTee."

"It's Miu Miu."

"I know who Miu Miu is."

TeeTee laughed.

"Then go."

Por looked at him in frustration.

"I don't want to leave you here alone while those idiots decide whether they want to pretend you don't exist."

TeeTee's smile faded slightly.

"I'm not alone."

"It's not the same."

TeeTee stood.

Moved closer.

"Two weeks."

"Yes."

"I'll survive."

Por looked at him.

"I don't want you to have to survive."

TeeTee looked down.

That hurt more than he expected.

⸻

Por didn't say anything else that night.

But the next day he started making calls.

First his manager.

Then the fashion production team.

Then someone in the brand's international relations department.

The first response was a laugh.

"TeeTee?"

"Yes."

"The actor."

"He also has a face."

"Por."

"And a body."

"That wasn't what—"

"Put him with me."

Silence.

"That's not how it works."

"Ask."

"For what exactly?"

Por thought for a moment.

"Front row. Social campaign. Press. Editorial if you want."

"And why him?"

Por answered as if it were obvious.

"Because people lose their minds when we're together."

Another silence.

"That is true."

Por smiled.

"Then ask him."

⸻

TeeTee knew nothing about it.

Por didn't want to tell him until it was real.

And he wasn't sure they would accept either.

After all, TeeTee wasn't a model.

Not professionally.

But he had a name.

Presence.

Fashion experience.

Campaigns.

And something even more useful.

Public chemistry with Por.

Two days later, while Por was already in Tokyo, he got the confirmation.

He stared at the email.

Then smiled.

⸻

TeeTee was eating breakfast when a physical letter arrived along with several representation documents.

He opened it without much interest.

Read it.

Read it again.

"What?"

Miu Miu.

Tokyo.

Official invitation.

Promotional participation.

Joint content.

Show appearance.

Editorial material.

TeeTee grabbed his phone.

Called Por.

No answer.

Called again.

Nothing.

A third time.

"What?" Por finally answered.

TeeTee held the letter.

"What did you do?"

Silence.

"Good morning to you too."

"Por."

"What?"

"I have an invitation from Miu Miu."

Pause.

"Oh."

TeeTee opened his mouth.

"'Oh'?"

Por tried to sound indifferent.

"That's nice."

"You did this."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Por."

"Maybe I asked."

"You asked?"

"Yes."

"Miu Miu?"

"Not directly."

"That doesn't make it better."

Por laughed.

TeeTee ran a hand through his hair.

"Why?"

This time Por took a moment.

"Because I wanted you to come."

TeeTee stopped talking.

"And because you can do it," Por continued. "You're not just an actor."

Silence.

"Besides, you were too sad."

"I wasn't sad."

"Liar."

TeeTee looked at the letter again.

"When do I have to go?"

"In two days."

TeeTee smiled.

"Two days."

"Yes."

"And you're telling me now."

"Surprise."

"I hate you."

"No."

⸻

Tokyo was a disaster from the airport.

The good kind.

The kind of disaster brands love.

The moment they appeared together, the screaming started.

Fans.

Cameras.

Phones.

The two of them simply walking side by side was enough.

Por wore an immaculate, slightly androgynous look with a cropped jacket and low trousers.

TeeTee's styling was cleaner.

More masculine.

Long coat.

Dark glasses.

And one hand almost always near Por's back.

Not touching him.

Just there.

In case the crowd pressed in too tightly.

The internet started before they even reached the hotel.

TEETEE AND POR IN TOKYO

MIU MIU PUT THEM TOGETHER

IS THIS REAL?

WHO HAD THIS IDEA AND WHERE DO I SEND FLOWERS

The brand saw the numbers.

And smiled.

⸻

The show was worse.

Or better.

Depending on who was watching.

They seated them together.

Front row.

Obviously.

Por arrived first.

TeeTee appeared later.

When he sat down, Por didn't even look at him.

"You're late."

"Three minutes."

"Late."

"They changed my look."

"Excuses."

TeeTee leaned in.

"You look beautiful."

Por kept looking ahead.

"I know."

TeeTee smiled.

The cameras caught everything.

Five minutes later, the photos were everywhere.

One with TeeTee leaning toward him.

Another with Por rolling his eyes.

Another laughing.

Another where TeeTee was watching the runway and Por, without realizing it, was looking at him.

That one was the worst.

Or the best.

Again, depending.

⸻

As they were leaving, a reporter shouted:

"Por! TeeTee! Together please!"

They both turned.

Photo.

Another.

"Closer!"

Por looked at TeeTee.

TeeTee raised an eyebrow.

Por stepped closer.

TeeTee did too.

Shoulder to shoulder.

"Closer!"

Por laughed.

"They want us to crawl inside each other."

TeeTee nearly choked.

"Por."

"What?"

The cameras exploded.

TeeTee red.

Por smiling.

The internet had content for three days.

⸻

The brand understood quickly what it had.

By the second day, they changed part of the itinerary.

More interviews together.

More photos.

Notes:

Hi, I know I haven't posted anything in almost a month. In my defense, I have no defense. Have a good day.

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Lean against me

Pookjaii

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