Chapter Text
A year into living together, the rhythm of their life had smoothed out into something steady and reassuring.
Joong was no longer the stressed, sleep-deprived fresh graduate eating takeout over job portals. He was a thriving Junior Project Coordinator, well-regarded at his firm for his calm under pressure and sharp eye for detail. The high rise apartment had long ceased to feel like a "temporary" stopgap, his desk was permanently set up in the sunlit second bedroom, his jackets hung naturally beside Dunk’s in the walk-in closet, and his worn coffee mugs had earned a permanent home on the minimalist marble island.
Which was why standing in the grand ballroom of the Grand Hyatt for the annual Southeast Asian Gastronomy Gala felt natural. Joong looked effortlessly polished in a tailored charcoal suit, holding a flute of champagne and chatting easily with a pair of local restaurant investors while Dunk finished a brief panel interview on stage.
When Dunk stepped down from the platform, his dark eyes instantly scanned the room, locking onto Joong with a familiar, quiet warmth. He navigated through the crowd of chefs and sommeliers, slipping naturally to Joong’s side.
"How was the panel?" Joong murmured, dropping his voice as Dunk reached for a glass of sparkling water from a passing server's tray.
"Long," Dunk replied softly, a subtle smirk playing on his lips. "The moderator spent ten minutes asking if elevated street food is a trend or a movement. I told him good food is just good food."
Joong let out a low, affectionate laugh, his hand briefly touching the small of Dunk’s back. "Classic Chef Natachai."
Before Dunk could respond, a rich, cultured voice called out from behind them, carrying a light, melodic lilt.
"Natachai?"
Dunk turned toward the sound, his eyebrows raising in genuine surprise.
Standing a few feet away was a man who looked like he had walked straight off a European runway. Tall, strikingly handsome, with sharp features, dark hair, and an undeniable aura of relaxed sophistication, he held a glass of red wine with the casual elegance of someone born into high society.
"Jean?" Dunk blinked, a sudden, bright smile breaking across his face. "C'est toi?"
"En carne et en os," Jean replied smoothly, stepping forward and opening his arms. Dunk stepped right into the hold, and Jean greeted him with a warm, familiar kiss on both cheeks in the traditional French manner. "Look at you! Headlining the gastronomy gala. I knew the moment you moved back home you’d dominate the culinary scene here."
"What are you doing in Bangkok?" Dunk asked, switching effortlessly back into Thai, though his tone retained a rare, animated warmth that Joong seldom heard outside their private apartment. "I thought you were based in Bordeaux now."
"I was," Jean smiled, his dark eyes crinkling at the corners with effortless charm. "Until last month. My father’s group is opening a fine-dining concept near the riverfront, and I'm overseeing the beverage program and wine imports. I landed three days ago."
Jean’s eyes then shifted, landing on Joong standing beside Dunk. His gaze was polite, intelligent, and subtly perceptive as he took in Joong’s broad shoulders and polished suit.
"Ah," Jean murmured softly, turning back to Dunk with an amused, knowing glint in his eye. "And who is this?"
Dunk turned, his hand resting naturally against the middle of Joong’s back, bringing him into the circle. "Jean, this is Joong. My partner."
Jean’s smile widened slightly, warm and gracious as he extended a long-fingered hand. "Nice to meet you, Joong. I'm Jean."
"Joong," Joong replied, wrapping his hand around Jean’s in a firm, polite grip. "Nice to meet you."
“Jean and I went to culinary school together in Paris,” Dunk explained smoothly, looking between the two of them. “We studied at FERRANDI. We used to burn our stocks together during early-morning prep.”
"Oh, don't remind me," Jean laughed softly, taking a slow sip of his wine. "Natachai was the top of our class, of course. Perfectionist from day one. While the rest of us were sneaking out to bars in the Latin Quarter, he was in the dorm kitchen practicing his knife turns." Jean looked back at Joong, his tone light and friendly. "Has he relaxed at all since moving back, or is he still inspecting every plate like a drill sergeant?"
"He's strictly managed," Joong offered a polite, charming grin, though a strange, tiny prickle took root in the back of his mind. "I handle the domestic kitchen now, so he has to delegate."
"Is that so?" Jean raised an eyebrow, clearly entertained. "A brave man. Natachai never used to let anyone touch his station in school. Not even me."
For the next ten minutes, the conversation flowed easily—at least on the surface. Jean dropped names of three-star Michelin chefs in Paris as casually as if mentioning old high school classmates, discussing wine vintages, soil acidity, and French kitchen politics with Dunk. Dunk responded with a bright, engaged energy that Joong rarely saw him drop around strangers.
Joong stood beside them, holding his champagne glass, chiming in when appropriate. He looked sharp, he spoke well, and by all appearances, he belonged in the room.
Yet, as he watched Jean laugh at an inside joke from eight years ago in Paris, a world of snowy French mornings, high-pressure French culinary academies, and shared youth that Joong had never been a part of, a quiet, uncomfortable knot began to tighten in Joong's chest.
"We must catch up properly over dinner," Jean said finally, pulling a crisp, heavy card from his breast pocket and handing it to Dunk. "I’m staying at the Peninsula while the restaurant build-out finishes. Call me this week, Natachai."
"I will," Dunk smiled, slipping the card into his pocket. "Safe travels around the city, Jean."
Jean offered Joong a polite nod. "A pleasure meeting you, Joong."
"Likewise," Joong said smoothly.
As Jean walked away, melting effortlessly into the crowd of high-society guests, Dunk let out a soft breath, turning to Joong with a relaxed expression. "Small world. I haven't seen him in years."
"Yeah," Joong murmured, his thumb tracing the rim of his champagne glass as his eyes followed Jean’s tall frame across the ballroom. "He seems... very close with you."
"We went through a lot together in Paris," Dunk said simply, taking a sip of his water, completely unbothered as he turned his attention back to the main stage. "Come on, the keynote speaker is starting."
Joong followed him toward the reserved seating, but the strange, quiet knot in his stomach refused to loosen.