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The air in the hallway smelled like old paper and strong coffee. Dunk hated it already.
He stood in front of the wooden office door, holding a letter he still didn't believe was real. The name on the door matched the one written in cursive at the bottom of the envelope: Mr. Waranon Thaveesin, Attorney-at-Law. Inside was the man in charge of his late grandfather's will, well not really.
Dunk took a breath, held it and then let it out slowly. His fingers tightened around the letter.
"You're just here for the legal stuff. In and out. Thirty minutes, max.", he whispered to himself.
He pushed the door open.
And there he saw him.
Sitting on the other side of the room like a fucking king. Legs crossed, one hand on the armrest a bored expression and eyes on his phone.
Joong.
Dunk stopped walking. His heart did something weird not soft, more like someone dropped a glass inside his chest and it cracked.
Joong didn't look up right away. He didn't have to, because he already knew.
"You're late," Joong said simply, without lifting his head.
Dunk blinked. "You've got to be kidding me."
Now Joong looked up. Calm and beautiful.
His hair was longer than before, his cheekbones looked sharper. Maybe he'd lost weight and maybe Dunk noticed and he hated that he noticed.
"You look like you've seen a ghost," Joong added. "Relax. I'm not here to haunt you."
Dunk clenched his jaw. "What are you doing here?"
Joong raised an eyebrow. "Oh, you didn't read the letter properly, did you?"
Before Dunk could answer, the door to the inner office opened. A man in a grey suit stepped out, looking between the two of them.
"Mr. Natachai. Mr. Archen. Thank you for coming. Please come in."
⸻
Inside, the office was warm, almost too quiet. Thick carpets, dark shelves filled with legal books and a single photo frame on the lawyer's desk. He didn't know who they were.
Dunk sat stiffly in the chair opposite Joong. Far enough to avoid touching but close enough to feel the tension vibrating in the air.
Mr. Waranon cleared his throat. "I know this is a difficult time for both of you. Your grandfather passing was sudden and his final instructions were somewhat unconventional."
Dunk nodded slowly and narrowed his eyes.
The lawyer opened a folder and pulled out a stack of typed pages.
"Mr. Thammarat left a condition in his will regarding the division of his estate," he began, adjusting his glasses. "And it concerns both of you."
Dunk looked at Joong. Joong was already looking at him.
"What kind of condition?" Dunk asked.
The lawyer hesitated. Just for a moment and then read from the paper:
"In the event of my death, my entire estate including property, stocks, and liquid assets will be granted to my grandsons, Dunk Natachai and Joong Archen, under the condition that the two shall enter into legal marriage within thirty (30) days of this will being read, and remain married for a minimum period of one (1) calendar year."
"The couple must reside in the same household and maintain public appearances as legally wedded spouses for the duration of said year. Failure to comply will result in complete forfeiture of inheritance."
Silence.
A long one.
Then Dunk blinked. "Excuse me?"
Mr. Waranon looked at him over his glasses. "It's quite clear."
"No no, this is insane. Is this a joke?" Dunk turned to Joong. "Did you know about this?"
Joong was quiet for a second too long.
Then he said. "I had a feeling."
"You had an—are you seriously considering this?"
Joong looked him dead in the eye. "Would it really be that hard? Pretending we used to like each other?"
Dunk's laugh was sharp and joyless. "Used to? You mean before you completely disappeared and left me to—" He cut himself off, chest rising fast.
Mr. Waranon raised a hand, calm and professional. "I understand emotions are high. You don't need to decide right now. But time is short."
"Yeah," Dunk muttered, standing up abruptly. "So is my patience."
Joong didn't move, he just watched Dunk, silently. Like he was waiting for something, but Dunk didn't give him anything.
He turned and walked out, slamming the door a little too hard behind him.
..//..
The apartment was quiet, too quiet.
Dunk closed the door behind him and stood still for a moment, letting the silence settle around him like dust. He dropped his keys into the ceramic bowl by the entrance, then took his shoes off without much thought. He didn't bother turning on the overhead lights. Instead, he switched on the small lamp in the hallway, casting a soft glow over the room.
He moved through the space like a ghost, dropping his jacket over the back of the couch and setting his phone face-down on the coffee table. His grandfather's letter was still in his pocket. He didn't pull it out.
For a while, he just stood there in the middle of the living room, breathing.
He told himself he was fine. That this was just a strange, ridiculous situation and he'd get through it like he always did. He told himself it didn't matter that Joong had been sitting there today, calm and collected, like he hadn't once shattered Dunk's entire world.
But Dunk wasn't fine.
The more he tried to ignore it, the harder it was to stay still. He began pacing back and forth across the room, his hands running through his hair, his thoughts spiraling.
Marrying Joong? Living with him for a year? It was insane. Beyond insane.
He opened the fridge just to do something, anything, but nothing inside looked appealing. After a few seconds, he closed it again and leaned against the counter, staring into nothing.
He had loved Joong. Deeply and fesperately. And when it ended, it felt like the world had dropped out from beneath his feet. That kind of love didn't just disappear, no matter how much you tried to hate the person after.
And now he was supposed to pretend, to act like they were happy, in love, married. In front of family, in front of the press, maybe even the world.
He sat down, then immediately stood back up again, restless. He thought about calling someone for advice his mother, maybe a friend but what would he even say? "Hey, remember my ex-boyfriend? The one I never talk about? Turns out I might have to marry him."
Yeah, no.
Dunk grabbed a pillow from the couch, pressed it to his face, and screamed into it.
Then he dropped onto the couch and lay there, staring at the ceiling. He stayed like that for a long time, unmoving, until eventually the weight of the day pulled him into a restless sleep.
⸻
Joong's apartment — the next morning
Joong stood by the window with a cup of coffee cradled in both hands. The sky outside was pale and cloudless, but he barely noticed it. His reflection stared back at him through the glass, quiet and unreadable.
He hadn't slept much.
He rarely did, but last night had been different. Seeing Dunk again had shaken something loose inside him, something he thought he'd buried long ago.
He had expected the tension. He had expected the anger. What he hadn't expected was the way Dunk's eyes had looked right before he walked out like he wasn't just mad, but hurt. Like Joong had managed to rip the same wound open all over again, just by being there.
The phone on the kitchen counter buzzed. He glanced over and saw a message from his manager.
"Media's already picking up the news. You and Dunk are trending. No statements yet."
Joong exhaled slowly and took another sip of coffee. Of course this was going public. There was no way something like this would stay quiet for long.
He set his mug down, grabbed the manila envelope the lawyers had sent over and reached for his bag.
⸻
Later that day at Dunk's apartment
The knock on the door was sharp and unexpected.
Dunk looked up from the bowl of cereal he was half-heartedly eating and frowned. He wasn't expecting anyone. He considered ignoring it, but the knock came again louder this time, more insistent.
He sighed, stood up and opened the door.
And there he was.
Joong stood on the doorstep with his sunglasses pushed up into his hair and an envelope in hand. His face was unreadable.
"Morning," Joong said evenly. "Can I come in?"
Dunk didn't move. "No."
Joong didn't look surprised. He simply held up the envelope.
"This is the contract. They sent it to both of us. We're supposed to sign and return it by Friday."
Dunk didn't take the envelope. His eyes narrowed as he asked, "Why are you even doing this? You don't need the money."
Joong shrugged, his tone cool. "That doesn't mean I don't want it."
"So you're just going to go along with it?" Dunk asked, his voice sharper now. "You're really going to play husband for a year like it's nothing?"
Something in Joong's expression shifted, just slightly. He looked tired, tired in a way that didn't come from lack of sleep.
"I'm not playing anything, Dunk. I just want to get this over with."
There was a long pause. Neither of them looked away.
Dunk hated how familiar this all felt. How Joong could still stand in his doorway and make everything feel unstable.
"Fine," Dunk said at last. His voice was quiet but firm. "Come in."
Joong stepped past him into the apartment without another word.
The door closed behind them with a quiet click.
The silence stretched between them like a tight wire. Joong stood by the couch, glancing briefly around the space, while Dunk closed the door and leaned back against it.
Neither of them spoke at first.
The envelope was still in Joong's hand.
Dunk crossed his arms. "You can sit down, you know. Or is this going to be another performance where you pretend to be too composed to function like a normal human being?"
Joong gave him a look, unreadable. Then, without a word, he sat down at the edge of the couch and placed the envelope on the coffee table between them.
Dunk stayed standing. He wasn't ready to be at the same level. He didn't want to feel equal.
Not yet.
"I haven't signed it," Joong said. "I figured we'd read it through together."
"How considerate of you," Dunk muttered.
Joong ignored the comment. "We should go through the terms before we agree to anything."
Dunk walked over slowly and sat down, keeping a deliberate distance between them. He picked up the envelope, opened it, and pulled out the papers. The font was small. The wording was clean. There were sections about property, public image, duration of marriage, media appearances and what would happen if either of them tried to back out.
"We're supposed to live in the same place," Dunk said, eyes still on the paper.
"For one year," Joong replied. "No separate homes."
Dunk scoffed. "Right. Of course."
"We also have to attend events together. Make at least three public appearances per month."
"And interviews," Dunk added, flipping to the next page. "God, this is disgusting."
Joong didn't respond.
Dunk finally looked at him. "You really think this is going to work?"
"I don't know," Joong said honestly. "But it's one year. Then we're done."
"It's not just one year. It's twelve months of pretending." Dunk's voice was sharp now, rising with every word. "Pretending we're in love. Pretending we didn't almost destroy each other."
Joong's jaw tightened. "You think I don't know that?"
"Do you?" Dunk stood up again, pacing. "Because it's really easy for you to sit there like nothing happened. Like you didn't just walk away from me when I needed you most."
Joong looked up at him slowly. "I didn't walk away. I let you go."
"Yeah," Dunk said bitterly. "You're really good at that."
Another pause. Longer this time.
The papers sat between them like a third presence in the room..
Eventually, Joong stood too, but he didn't move toward Dunk. He stayed where he was, voice quieter now.
"If we're going to do this, we need to make a plan. About everything."
Dunk ran a hand down his face. He felt exhausted already. "Fine. Where are we living?"
"I have an apartment," Joong said. "Three bedrooms. No press knows the address."
"No," Dunk said immediately. "We're not staying at your place."
Joong raised an eyebrow. "Why not?"
"Because it's yours. Because I don't want to walk around a place filled with your things, your scent, your furniture. I want neutral ground."
Joong looked like he wanted to argue, but then thought better of it. He nodded once.
"Fine. We can look for something new."
Dunk sighed, sitting down again slowly. "We need rules."
"Obviously."
Dunk glanced at him. "No touching. No talking unless necessary. Separate rooms. No bringing up the past. Ever."
Joong didn't blink. "You think those rules will help?"
"I think they'll keep us from killing each other," Dunk muttered.
Joong sat back, folding his arms. "You know this won't stay private. Our families will ask questions. The press is already on it."
"Then we lie," Dunk said. "We're good at that."
Joong looked at him carefully, eyes unreadable. "Not as good as you think."
That one stung.
Dunk didn't answer.
They sat in silence again, the contract still unsigned between them.
⸻
The day had stretched into dusk. The lamp cast a softer glow now and the air felt heavier. Neither of them had left the room. Neither had spoken much since the last exchange.
Eventually, Dunk reached for the pen on the table.
Joong watched him, quiet but focused.
Dunk held the pen for a moment before setting it down again, untouched. "What do we tell them?"
"Our parents?" Joong asked.
Dunk nodded. "They'll expect a celebration. Photos and all that.."
"We fake it," Joong said simply. "We do what we have to do. Like we agreed."
Dunk closed his eyes for a moment. "God, this is going to be hell."
Joong's voice was quiet. "It already is."
Dunk looked at him, not angry this time. Just tired. "Why did you agree to this, really?"
Joong didn't answer right away. Then, softly: "Because I'd rather suffer with you than be left with nothing again."
The words hung in the air like fog.
Neither of them moved.
And for a second just one, they weren't enemies. Just two people who had loved too much and now had to live with it.
...
The car ride was quiet.
Joong sat on the passenger side, arms crossed, sunglasses pushed up into his hair. Dunk kept his eyes on the road,m. The only sound between them was the low hum of the air conditionin.
They were on their third apartment visit of the day.
The first one had smelled like mildew. The second had carpets that made Dunk gag. Now, as they pulled into the parking lot of the next one, Joong finally spoke.
"This is the one your secretary sent, right?"
Dunk nodded once. "Yeah. Said it's quiet, central, and press-free."
Joong hummed. "We'll see."
The building was modern, tall and clean. The kind of place with coded elevators and indoor mailboxes. The real estate agent was already waiting in the lobby, a middle aged woman with bright lipstick and too much energy.
"You must be the couple!" she chirped. "You're just as handsome as they said."
Neither of them corrected her.
Joong smiled politely. Dunk mumbled something like a greeting. The elevator ride was tight and awkward and when they stepped into the apartment, it hit them all at once: this could be home. Or at least, it had to be.
The place was bright. Two bedrooms, an open kitchen and view of the river. Not bad.
Dunk walked through first, checking out the balcony. Joong stayed behind, running a hand over the marble kitchen counter.
"It's too modern," Joong said after a moment.
Dunk turned. "You're too modern."
Joong raised an eyebrow. "That doesn't even make sense."
"Yeah, well. Neither does this marriage."
The agent pretended not to hear. "You'll notice the bedrooms are on opposite sides of the unit, so you'll have plenty of space."
Joong gave Dunk a look that clearly said see? perfect for your little no talking rule.
They toured the rest in silence. Every now and then, their arms brushed but they never mentioned it.
⸻
Back in the car, Dunk sighed as he buckled in.
"I'll take it," he said.
Joong looked over. "You're deciding now?"
"It's fine. It's clean. It doesn't smell like a 90s hotel lobby."
Joong snorted softly. "High praise."
Dunk glanced at him. "You okay with it?"
Joong nodded once. "I'll have the contract transferred. We can move in this weekend."
Dunk started the engine.
Neither of them said anything more until they got home.
But as Dunk lay in bed that night, he found himself staring at the ceiling again. And the only thing on his mind was the sound of Joong's laugh in the elevator.
The one he hadn't heard in over two years.
//—//
The dining room was warm, lit by a chandelier that glowed like everything was perfect but it wasn't.
Dunk sat on the left side of the long table, Joong on the right. Their parents were gathered around them smiling, pouring wine, passing dishes but beneath it all, the air was thick with something unspoken.
Everyone knew.
They all knew these two had once been in love. And that it ended very badly.
And now they were suddenly getting married again?
Suspicion hung in the air like perfume.
"So," Dunk's mother said gently, holding her wine glass with both hands, "you've both... reconciled? After all this time?"
Joong looked up from his plate. "Something like that."
Dunk took a slow sip of water. He hadn't touched his wine. He didn't trust himself with it.
"You didn't even speak at New Year's," Joong's uncle added with a curious tone. "Now you're married in what? Two weeks?"
"It's not official yet," Dunk's father cut in, too quickly. "They'll have the ceremony after the paperwork is done."
"It's just... surprising," Dunk's cousin said, voice careful but sharp. "Last we heard, you weren't even on speaking terms."
Dunk set his fork down. "Things change."
"And what made them change so suddenly?" his aunt asked with a sweet smile that wasn't sweet at all. "Was it love again, or... pressure?"
There was a beat of silence too heavy to ignore.
Joong placed his wine glass down gently. "We realized we made a mistake. Back then."
Dunk looked at him sideways. His voice came out quieter. "Did we?"
Joong didn't flinch. "I did."
The whole table seemed to shift. Everyone pretended to eat, but no one was chewing.
"Reunited lovers," someone muttered near the end of the table. "How romantic."
Dunk's stomach twisted. He was tired of the performance. Tired of smiling when his jaw hurt. Tired of Joong sounding like he meant it.
Joong, who had once said nothing at all when things fell apart.
"So you just decided to try again?" his cousin asked. "Just like that?"
"No," Dunk said plainly. "We didn't just decide anything. It's complicated."
Joong's mother gave them a look. "Relationships are always complicated, dear. But marriage is permanent. You're sure about this?"
Dunk didn't answer.
Joong did.
"We've known each other for years," he said, calm and smooth. "We know what we're walking into."
"That's exactly what worries me," Dunk muttered, not loud enough for the whole table but Joong heard it.
Their parents kept smiling, kept toasting. But the questions never really stopped. Not with their eyes. Not with the way they whispered when someone stepped away to the kitchen.
And when it was time for photos just the two of them standing together under dim chandelier light Joong rested a hand on Dunk's lower back like nothing had ever broken between them.
Dunk froze for a moment. Then leaned just slightly toward him.
The camera clicked. They smiled.
It looked like love.
But neither of them said a word.
...
The streetlights blurred past the windows, soft against the quiet hum of the engine. Joong kept one hand on the wheel, the other resting on the gear shift. His posture was relaxed, too relaxed. Dunk sat beside him with his arms folded tight, eyes on the road ahead but not really seeing it.
Neither of them had spoken since they left the dinner.
Until Dunk finally exhaled and said, "You didn't have to lie like that."
Joong didn't take his eyes off the road. "Lie about what?"
"Oh, I don't know," Dunk snapped. "Maybe the part where I supposedly got down on one knee and begged for you back?"
Joong's voice was calm, almost bored. "It made them happy. Isn't that the goal?"
Dunk scoffed, leaning back against the seat with a bitter laugh. "Right. Make them happy. Even if it makes us sick."
"You could've played along without making a scene."
"I didn't make a scene."
"You made it awkward."
Dunk turned to him, eyebrows raised. "Awkward? Joong, the entire dinner was people tiptoeing around the fact that we broke up because we couldn't even breathe in the same room without fighting."
"And here we are," Joong said flatly, "breathing just fine."
Dunk laughed again, sharp and humorless. "You really think this is fine?"
Joong didn't answer.
The silence stretched.
Dunk stared out the window, jaw tight. "You didn't have to answer for me, you know. You could've let me speak."
"I figured you'd say something reckless," Joong replied. "Like the truth."
"Yeah? And what's so wrong with the truth?"
Joong's hands tightened slightly on the wheel. "Because the truth makes us look like idiots. That we let something real fall apart. That we're crawling back into it now for money."
Dunk snapped his head toward him. "I'm not crawling anywhere."
Joong glanced at him, voice cold. "No. You're just surviving. Like always."
The car went quiet again.
Dunk's throat felt tight. "You think you know me so well."
Joong's jaw tensed. "I did."
"Well, you don't anymore."
Joong's voice dropped. "You're right. I don't."
Another silence, but this one hurt more.
They stopped at a red light. The soft glow lit Joong's profile, sharp.
Dunk stared straight ahead, eyes stinging. "You didn't fight for me."
Joong blinked slowly. "Don't do that."
"It's true."
"I didn't fight," Joong said, his voice suddenly low and quiet, "because I thought I was the one hurting you."
Dunk turned to him again. "And leaving helped?"
Joong didn't answer.
The light turned green.
They drove the rest of the way without a word.
//—//
The apartment was still half empty.
Cardboard boxes lined the hallway. Clothes hung half folded over chairs. Joong's shoes were in the wrong place, Dunk's kitchenware was still wrapped in paper, and the air smelled faintly like fresh paint.
They hadn't spoken much all day. Just the basics.
That goes there.
Careful with that.
Do you need help?
Dunk was in the kitchen now, unpacking mugs. He didn't know why he brought so many. It wasn't like they'd be having guests. He unwrapped another one and stared at it in his hands for a few seconds longer than he meant to.
It was chipped near the handle. Light blue.
Joong came in behind him, setting a box on the counter. "That's the one you always used," he said casually. "You still have it?"
Dunk blinked. His voice came out a little hoarse. "Yeah. I guess I do."
Joong reached for the nearest drawer, then paused. "Do we have drawer dividers?"
Dunk opened another box, digging through it. "Probably in here somewhere."
Joong nodded. "I'll wait, then."
Another beat of silence passed. Dunk's fingers stilled on the cardboard.
He didn't mean to say it. It just came out, quiet and low and a little too raw.
"You used to steal that mug when you stayed over."
Joong looked up slowly.
Dunk didn't meet his gaze. He set the mug down gently, still not looking at him. "Every time. I'd wake up and you'd be on my couch, holding it like you owned the place. And when I told you to get your own, you said mine made the coffee taste better."
Joong said nothing.
The air felt heavy again. Not tense. Just... full. Like the memory had taken up all the oxygen in the room.
Dunk cleared his throat and turned away. "Forget it. Doesn't matter."
Joong didn't push. He didn't say thank you or I remember too.
But he reached over and took the mug anyway, fingers brushing Dunk's for a second longer than necessary.
"I'll put this one in my cabinet," he said quietly.
Dunk didn't answer.
//—//
A week later
The photo shoot was scheduled for Sunday afternoon, in a private garden behind one of their family's properties. The sun was too warm, the grass too perfect, and the team too polite to mention how stiff the atmosphere felt.
Dunk adjusted the collar of his shirt for the fifth time. He was dressed in beige linen, sleeves rolled up, hair swept back. On anyone else, he'd call it romantic. On himself, he felt like he was in a brochure for a honeymoon he didn't want.
Joong stood a few steps away, talking quietly to the photographer. He was in a white button up, tucked half into loose slacks, silver chain at his neck. He looked calm. Effortlessly collected. And Dunk hated that he noticed.
"You two ready?" the photographer called out. "Let's do a few standing shots first. Maybe something casual? Arms around each other?"
Dunk tensed.
Joong walked over without hesitation, standing next to him like it was nothing. Like they did this all the time.
"Just pretend," Joong murmured, eyes on the camera. "It's easier if you don't think about it."
"That's exactly the problem," Dunk muttered back. "You're too good at pretending."
Joong didn't reply. Instead, he slipped an arm around Dunk's waist.
Dunk flinched just slightly but didn't move away.
The camera clicked..
"Perfect!" the photographer said. "Now look at each other."
They did.
For a second, Dunk forgot how to breathe.
Joong's hand was still at his waist. His eyes were unreadable. Calm on the outside, but something deep underneath. Something that looked a lot like pain.
Dunk forced a smile. A fake one but Joong didn't.
His expression stayed soft, neutral. Like he wasn't smiling for the camera but for Dunk.
And that made it worse.
"Closer," the photographer called. "Can you hold hands?"
Joong reached down first. Dunk hesitated but eventually let their fingers slide together. His hand felt warm. Familiar..
They held it long enough for five more shots.
Then Joong let go.
They didn't say much after that. Just nodded politely, thanked the crew, and walked back to the car in silence.
That night, the pictures went live.
Their families posted them first. Then the fan pages. Then the press.
"Former lovers reunited in quiet ceremony."
"A second chance at forever?"
"The love story that never really ended."
Dunk stared at the post from his bed, phone glowing in the dark. In the photo, Joong was smiling. Dunk looked like he believed it.
Dunk laid on his side, one arm curled under his pillow, phone held too close to his face. The room was dark except for the dull glow of the screen.
He hadn't planned to check the comments. He just wanted to see the post one more time again. Just to look.
But now he was on his third scroll.
"They look so good together, it's unreal."
"They've always had that look in their eyes. Like they know something the rest of us don't."
"It's giving second chance romance 😭💍"
"God... Joong never stopped loving him, did he?"
Dunk's finger paused on that last one.
His throat tightened.
He locked his phone, tossed it beside him, and stared at the ceiling.
It wasn't true or maybe it was. He didn't know.
What he did know was that standing next to Joong today felt too easy, too familiar, too much like the past creeping back in when it wasn't supposed to.
He closed his eyes.
...
Across the city, Joong sat on the edge of his bed, shirt half unbuttoned, legs stretched out in front of him.
His phone was in his lap.
He'd been reading the same thread for twenty minutes.
"That arm around Dunk's waist?? I'm gonna scream??"
"They look like they never broke up."
"He still looks at Dunk the same way."
Joong rubbed his thumb over the edge of the screen, slow and restless.
He remembered the way Dunk had flinched when he touched him. He also remembered how he didn't pull away.
The way his fingers had fit into his again awkward, yes, but familiar. Like breathing in a room you weren't sure you were allowed to enter anymore.
Joong tossed his phone onto the nightstand and leaned forward, elbows on his knees. The photos looked beautiful.. Romantic.
But none of them showed what happened after.
The silence, the stiffness, the weight of everything they didn't say.
The post had thousands of comments now.
Thousands of people who thought it was a fairytale.
Neither of them replied. Neither of them liked the post.
But both lay awake longer than they meant to, in different rooms, thinking the same thing:
It was too easy to pretend.
And maybe...
that's what scared them most.
...............
The front door creaked open.
Joong was the first to step inside, dragging a suitcase behind him. He didn't announce himself. There was no need.
He already knew Dunk was there.
The soft sound of shuffling boxes came from somewhere deeper in the apartment the bedroom, maybe. Joong slipped off his shoes, set down his bag near the kitchen and looked around.
The space was nice. Clean but too quiet.
He didn't move farther in. He just stood there, listening to the faint thuds of Dunk settling in, like a stranger in someone else's home.
A few minutes later, Dunk walked into the kitchen, a roll of tape in his hand. His shirt stuck slightly to his back, hair messy from unpacking.
He stopped short when he saw Joong standing there.
"Oh," Dunk said flatly. "You're here."
Joong glanced at him. "I live here."
Dunk rolled his eyes and walked over to the counter, dropping the tape with a thud. "Didn't hear you come in."
"I didn't slam the door."
"You usually don't. That's half the problem."
The words were out before he could stop them. Dunk didn't even look up. Joong's expression didn't change. "Right. Forgot I was supposed to announce my every move." Dunk opened a drawer, found it empty, and slammed it shut again. "We're not doing this."
"Doing what?" Joong asked calmly, but the tension in his voice betrayed him. "Talking like adults? Yeah, that would be too much."
"No," Dunk snapped. "Pretending like this is normal. Like we're just two people moving in together. We're not. So stop acting like it."
Joong crossed his arms. "I'm not acting."
"Yeah sure."
Silence fell between them again, sharp and hot like static.
Dunk finally turned away and grabbed a box from the floor, carrying it toward his bedroom. He paused in the doorway.
"You're taking the room on the right," he said without looking back. "I already put some of your stuff in there."
Joong didn't say thank you. He didn't move.
Eventually, he turned and headed toward the hallway in the opposite direction.
⸻
They spent most of the day like that.
Walking around each other.
Avoiding eye contact.
Too much space between them and still not enough.
Occasionally, they'd meet in the hallway at the same time Dunk carrying a box, Joong holding hangers or a towel and both would pause, say nothing, then step aside like strangers passing in a narrow alley.
⸻
By sunset, the apartment was mostly unpacked. The rooms looked full, but everything still felt hollow.
Dunk was standing in the kitchen, staring into the open fridge like it held answer. Joong walked in behind him, silent as ever.
"Do you want anything for dinner?" Dunk asked, without turning around. "I'm ordering."
Joong leaned against the counter. "I can get my own food."
"I didn't ask if you could," Dunk said, shutting the fridge a little harder than necessary. "I asked if you wanted to."
Joong exhaled. "I'm fine."
Dunk turned, arms crossed. "You know what? Forget it. I don't care."
They stared at each other for a long second.
Joong's jaw flexed. "Then why ask?"
"Because I'm trying," Dunk muttered. "I said I'd try."
Joong's voice dropped. "You think I'm not?"
Dunk didn't answer. He pushed past him, heading for his room.
Joong didn't follow. He stayed in the kitchen for a while after, standing in the same spot, wondering when trying stopped feeling like punishment.
....
The apartment was still.
Most of the lights were off, except for the faint light spilling from under Dunk's door.
Joong had been on his way to the living room, barefoot and quiet, when he paused mid step.
The door to Dunk's room was half open.
Inside, Dunk sat cross legged on the floor, a half unpacked box in front of him. The air smelled faintly of old cardboard and laundry detergent. Joong stayed in the hallway, unseen.
Dunk was holding something in his hands. A photo.
The light caught the edge of the frame, just enough for Joong to recognize it.
It was them.
From before.
Back when they smiled without effort. Joong's arm around Dunk's shoulder, Dunk's head tipped slightly toward his. Both of them laughing at something just out of frame.
Dunk stared at the photo for a long time. He didn't smile. He didn't cry. He just... held it.
Then, quietly, he set it aside, face down on the bed.
Joong stepped back before he could see more.
He returned to his room without making a sound.
And that was how the night ended.
//..//
The apartment was quiet when Dunk walked into the kitchen. The clock on the wall read 9:13 AM. The sun filtered in through the windows, soft and gold.
Joong was already there.
He stood by the counter, coffee mug in hand, his back to Dunk. His hair was still slightly messy, like he'd only just rolled out of bed. No music played. No phone was in sight.
Just him. Still and silent.
Dunk scratched the back of his neck. "Morning."
Joong didn't turn around. "Morning."
Dunk opened a cabinet and grabbed a bowl. He tried to act normal and poured cereal, added milk, sat down at the table like nothing felt weird.
But it did.
Joong didn't speak again. He leaned against the counter, sipping his coffee slowly, eyes somewhere near the floor.
"Did you sleep okay?"
Joong nodded once. "Fine."
Dunk frowned. "You're quiet."
Joong didn't answer at first. Then: "Just tired."
It wasn't rude but something in the tone was distant. Like he was here, in the same room, but miles away.
Dunk stirred his cereal without eating more. The silence between them was different than usual. It wasn't tense but it held something. A weight he couldn't name.
Joong finished his coffee and rinsed the mug in the sink. His movements were slow, careful.
Dunk watched him, brow furrowed. "Did I do something?"
Joong looked over his shoulder, just once. "No."
Then he walked out of the room without another word.
Dunk sat there alone, the spoon in his bowl sinking under the milk. The silence Joong left behind didn't feel empty. It felt like knowing someone saw you when you weren't looking.
And you're not sure what they saw.
——
The living room was dim, lit only by the soft light of a lamp in the corner.
Joong sat on the couch, legs crossed, his phone in hand. He was scrolling slowly through the media briefing his manager had sent: arrival times, seating charts, the photo order.
Dunk stood in the kitchen, leaning against the counter, sipping water from a glass. He was watching Joong, not directly, but enough to notice the tension in his shoulders.
"You memorizing the whole thing?" Dunk asked.
Joong didn't look up. "Just reading."
Dunk walked over and dropped onto the opposite end of the couch, stretching his legs out. "Big day tomorrow."
Joong nodded once. "Yeah."
Dunk waited for more. Nothing came.
"They're gonna ask stupid questions," he said, trying for casual. "Hope you've got your fake laugh ready."
Joong didn't smile. "They were screened." Dunk frowned. "You don't think it's weird?"
Joong looked at him then, just briefly. "What?"
"This," Dunk gestured toward the phone, the apartment, the air between them. "Us. Playing fiancés in front of cameras when we barely speak at home."
Joong didn't answer right away. Then he said, voice soft, "It's what we signed up for."
Dunk scoffed. "That's all this is to you? Something we signed up for?"
Joong looked back down at his phone. "It's whatever.."
That stung more than it should have.
Dunk stood slowly, setting his empty glass on the coffee table.
He didn't say goodbye.
He just walked away.
Joong didn't look up again until the bedroom door closed.
Then he leaned back on the couch and closed his eyes. His phone slipped from his fingers, unread.
......
Next Day
The ballroom smelled like fresh flowers.
Soft gold drapes hung at the edges of the stage, their folds catching bits of light. Rows of white chairs lined up neatly in front of a slim press table. It was all a little too perfect, too carefully arranged. Even the sunlight spilling through the tall windows felt like it had been told where to stand.
Joong and Dunk stood behind the curtain, just out of sight.
Joong adjusted the sleeve of his grey jacket He hadn't said much since they arrived. Not on the car ride, not in the dressing room and not even when the stylist handed him the ring box.
He held it now very close.
Dunk shifted beside him, tugging lightly at his cuff. His cream suit fit perfectly, but nothing about this felt comfortable.
"You good?" Dunk asked, not looking directly at him.
Joong nodded.
"That's not an answer."
Still, Joong didn't speak.
Before Dunk could push again, the assistant signaled from the side of the stage.
"You're on."
They stepped out together.
—
The lights weren't blinding, but they were hot.
The room was full small press, family representatives, a few invited names from the industry. No public guests, no livestream.
A large screen behind them displayed a soft gold slide:
"Engagement Announcement — Joong Archen & Dunk Natachai"
They sat at the front table.
The photographer signaled:
"Closer, please."
Joong shifted slightly. Dunk didn't move.
Eventually, Joong rested his hand lightly on the table between them not touching tho just near.
The moderator greeted the room. "Thank you for joining us to celebrate this beautiful new chapter. Today, we are honored to formally announce the engagement of Mr. Archen and Mr. Natachai."
Dunk swallowed tightly.
—
The questions began.
"How does it feel to be reuniting after all this time?"
Joong answered first. "Unexpected, but... right in some ways."
Dunk added, "We've known each other a long time. That makes things... easier."
It was a lie. But a smooth one.
"Who proposed?"
Joong smiled politely. "We didn't have a traditional proposal. It was mutual."
"Was there a reason for keeping things private until now?"
Dunk glanced at Joong. "We wanted to be sure before going public."
They made it look seamless.
—
Then came the first unscreened question.
A journalist raised their hand. "You two were in a relationship before. Can you tell us why it ended and why it's different this time?"
The silence was immediate.
Joong blinked once. Dunk froze.
He could feel every camera pointed at them, every eye watching.
Joong opened his mouth, then closed it again.
Dunk said nothing.
The moderator cleared their throat, smiling tight. "Let's move on—"
"No," Joong said softly.
Dunk looked at him sharply.
Joong's voice didn't waver. "We ended because we weren't ready. We didn't know how to take care of something that mattered that much. We do now."
It was the closest thing to truth either of them had said aloud.
Dunk didn't speak for the rest of the panel.
The room fell quiet as the box was brought forward.
Joong took it with both hands, his fingers brushing the velvet like he didn't quite want to touch it. He opened it slowly, the soft creak of the hinge lost beneath the sound of cameras adjusting focus.
Inside, two platinum rings lay side by side. Identical.
Joong looked at them for a moment too long.
He reached for Dunk's hand hesitating first, just slightly, like he was waiting for permission that would never come. Dunk didn't move and also didn't look at him but he also didn't pull away.
Their hands met. Joong's fingers were steady but cold, and when he slid the ring onto Dunk's finger, it caught a little at the knuckle.
It was light. Cold.
Like something that wasn't made for him, but he had to wear anyway.
Joong's fingertips lingered for a beat longer than necessary then he let go.
Dunk picked up the second ring. His hand moved slower. He didn't look Joong in the eye, didn't smile for the cameras. He just took Joong's hand warm, heavier than he remembered and slipped the ring on.
He didn't know why, but the metal felt heavier. Like it meant something but it shouldn't.
Neither of them spoke.
The photographers called for a final shot. "One close together, please. Hands joined. Just a little closer."
Joong rested his hand gently on top of Dunk's. Dunk curled his fingers around his without thinking. Their heads tilted inward, faces almost touching, like they were whispering something private, something soft and intimate.
But they weren't.
They weren't saying anything.
They were just breathing in the same silence, wearing the same lie on their hands, wondering if the cameras could capture the sound of heartbreak.
And maybe they did.
Because in that moment, they looked like they were in love.
But all they could feel was everything they'd lost.
{}
It rained the next morning.
Not heavy just enough to keep the windows fogged, the streets quiet, the apartment a little colder than usual.
Dunk woke up late. The air smelled like coffee, faint but real. That surprised him.
He padded into the kitchen in sweatpants and a hoodie, rubbing at his eyes. Joong stood by the stove, stirring something slowly in a pan. His hair was still a bit messy. No makeup, not tailored suit this time. Just him.
Dunk leaned on the counter. "You cooked?"
Joong nodded once. "Eggs. Didn't feel like ordering."
Dunk didn't answer. He reached into the cabinet, pulled down a mug, and poured himself coffee from the pot Joong had already made.
It wasn't a truce. But it wasn't war.
They moved around each other quietly, like people who'd lived together before. Like something remembered instead of forced.
They sat across from each other at the table.
Rain tapped softly on the glass.
Dunk broke the silence first. "You did okay yesterday."
Joong glanced up. "You mean I didn't lie too well?"
"I mean you sounded... calm." Dunk poked at his eggs. "Like it didn't kill you."
Joong looked back down. "I practiced."
Dunk nodded slowly. "Right."
They didn't speak again for a while.
After breakfast, Joong took a blanket to the couch and curled up with a book. Dunk stayed in the kitchen, scrolling through news posts, watching how their photo trended for a few more hours before the buzz started fading.
Mid- afternoon, the clouds were still low.
Dunk passed by the couch on his way to the hallway, hesitating just slightly. "I'm gonna do laundry."
Joong didn't look up. "Okay."
Dunk lingered another second. Then: "Do you want me to wash yours too?"
Joong turned the page slowly. "If you don't mind."
"I don't."
It was stupid. Small.. but Joong looked up when Dunk walked away. And for the first time in days, he let his shoulders drop.
The washing machine whirred softly, the rhythm filling the small laundry room with background noise. Dunk leaned against the counter, arms crossed loosely over his chest, waiting for the cycle to finish.
His phone buzzed beside him on the surface, a new call coming through. Without thinking, he tapped to answer and turned on the speaker.
"Hey," he said, his voice lighter than it had been all week. He hadn't even realized he was smiling until the sound of his own voice gave him away.
From the hallway, Joong approached.
He had just finished folding a few towels and was heading to check if the dryer was in use. The door to the laundry room was slightly open, and as he reached for it, he heard Dunk's voice soft, relaxed and unfamiliar in a way that made him pause.
"I'm fine," Dunk was saying. "No, it wasn't that bad. Just long. And kind of surreal, honestly."
Joong's hand hovered at the edge of the doorframe.
He wasn't eavesdropping, not intentionally. He had planned to ask if Dunk needed help or even just to see if the washer was free. The words were already half formed in his mouth.
But Dunk's voice shifted, it became warmer.
"I mean... yeah, it's complicated," Dunk said, and then laughed. It wasn't a loud laugh, just the kind that slipped out when you weren't trying to hold it back. "I'll explain it better later. Just... not over the phone."
Joong froze.
He knew that voice.
Even after all this time, even with the speaker's slightly distorted tone, there was no mistaking it. It was him.
Dunk's best friend. The one Joong had hated hearing about. The one who had always been too close.
Too easy to laugh with.
Too comfortable.
Too dangerous.
Dunk let out a quiet laugh soft, real, nothing like the way he spoke to Joong.
"You're not wrong," he replied. "I almost cracked when they asked who proposed. I didn't even know we were pretending that part."
Joong's fingers tightened slightly around the towel.
He hadn't meant to stop and listen. But now he couldn't move. The sound of Dunk laughing like that like he was somewhere safe hit harder than he expected.
"You still owe me the full story," the friend said.
"Yeah, yeah," Dunk replied. "I'll tell you everything. Just... have some patient."
That was enough.
Joong turned without saying a word and walked back down the hall. His steps were quiet.
Dunk ended the call a few minutes later, still smiling faintly as he checked the washing machine. The moment had felt like a break from everything heavy just a few light minutes of normalcy. He didn't think twice about it.
When he stepped back into the hallway, he noticed it was quiet. Joong was nowhere in sight. Dunk assumed he had gone back to his room or maybe stepped out onto the balcony. He didn't question it.
Later that evening, as Dunk passed through the living room on his way to grab something from the kitchen, he caught a glimpse of Joong curled up in the corner of the couch. He was wrapped in a light blanket, one leg tucked underneath himself, a book resting open in his lap.
At first glance, it looked like he was reading, the same way he often did when he needed space. But as Dunk walked past, he realized Joong hadn't turned the page. He wasn't even looking at the words, he was staring through them, his eyes unfocused, his expression blank.
Joong didn't acknowledge Dunk as he walked by. He didn't glance up or speak, didn't shift or offer the usual subtle nod that passed for their version of polite coexistence. He just sat there in absolute stillness, like someone trying not to be seen.
Dunk paused mid step.
This wasn't the kind of silence he had asked for. It didn't feel like comfort or distance anymore. It felt like absence. And something in Joong's stillness something heavy and quiet and deeply shut off that made Dunk's chest tighten in a way he wasn't able to explain.
He had been the one who wanted space. The one who set the rules. But now, for the first time since they moved in, he wasn't sure anymore.
Because this silence didn't feel safe.
It felt like Joong was slipping further away.
And that realization stayed with him long after he left the room. Joong hadn't moved in almost an hour.
The book still sat open in his lap, but he hadn't read a word. The warmth from the blanket wrapped around him had started to fade, but he didn't shift, didn't try to fix it.
His thoughts kept pulling him backward, unwilling and uninvited.
...
[Flashback]
He remembered another night late, cold, quiet.
He had come home past midnight, the shoot running long again, his phone full of unread messages and missed calls. The apartment was dimly lit. Dunk wasn't in bed.
Joong found him curled up on the couch instead, blanket over his shoulders, soft light from his phone screen illuminating his face. He was typing, then smiling at something he read.
Joong didn't ask who because he already knew.
"Still awake?" Joong had asked. Dunk looked up briefly. "Yeah."
There was a pause.
Joong wanted to say something more. But he was tired, so he just mumbled, "I'm gonna shower," and walked away.
He never asked what the conversation was about.
⸻
Another memory surfaced — one of the smaller ones, but it still stung.
Joong had been in the kitchen, rushing out the door for a flight, phone balanced on one shoulder while he pulled on his jacket. Dunk had come up behind him, holding his phone out.
"Look," he said. "It's that video I told you about."
Joong barely glanced. "Later, okay? I really can't right now."
Dunk nodded, a little too quickly. "Yeah. Sure."
Later, when Joong checked Dunk's story hours into the flight, he saw the same video.. Dunk had sent it to someone else, captioned with a laughing emoji and a string of inside jokes Joong didn't understand.
He remembered that feeling.
The quiet ache.
The thought: Why didn't you just wait for me?
But of course, he hadn't made time. Not really.
⸻
And then, the worst one.
Joong had caught a cold during a rainy season shoot. He was half sick and completely drained, but determined to push through. He came home early rare, hoping maybe he could just lie down beside Dunk, for once.
Instead, he found the apartment quiet.
A note on the counter. Dunk had gone out for dinner.
Not alone.
With him.
That friend.
It wasn't the going out that hurt. It was the ease with which it had been done. No checking in, no waiting. No "do you want to come?"
Joong sat down on the edge of the bed and stared at the note, trying to ignore how loud the silence felt.
⸻
Now, on the couch, Joong let the memories play in his head, one after the other, like scenes from a film he couldn't stop rewatching. The more he tried to push them away, the clearer they became.
He hadn't realized, back then, how many pieces were slipping away.
But he had felt it.
Each time.
That slow, creeping fear that he was too much and somehow, still not enough.
And now, hearing that voice again cheerful, casual, so easy with Dunk, it felt like confirmation. That some part of Dunk never really needed him the way he'd hoped.
He told himself it didn't matter. That it was all fake now. That none of this was real anymore.
But his hands were still clenched around the edges of the blanket and his chest still ached in that same, familiar way.
///——///
The morning feels like any other. Until it doesn't.
Dunk stood in the kitchen, sleeves pushed up, the smell of coffee hanging in the air. The apartment was still quiet Joong hadn't come out of his room yet. Maybe he wasn't awake or maybe he just didn't want to be seen.
Dunk didn't mind. The silence was easier this way.
He tapped idly at his phone while waiting for the kettle to finish, eyes still heavy from sleep. Most of his notifications were junk, but one stood out.
From: Khun Prasert (Manager – Chulachai Estate)
Subject: Personal Delivery
"Please stop by the firm today if possible. There's something your grandfather left behind for you and Joong. Nothing urgent. Just something he hoped you'd receive together."
Dunk read it twice. Then once more.
He didn't know why it made his throat feel tight. Maybe it was the phrasing. Maybe it was just seeing your grandfather written out like that even though the man wasn't technically his.
But he had been, in all the ways that mattered.
Joong's grandfather had been the only elder Dunk ever truly looked up to. The one who asked how he was doing before asking what he was doing. The one who brewed tea too strong and always gave him the bigger cup.
It hurt, in a quiet way, to read that message.
⸻
Joong saw the same email at almost the same time.
He was still in bed, sitting against the headboard, a half-finished book resting unread in his lap. The curtains were open just enough to let the morning in, though he hadn't noticed until the sun touched his legs.
The name in the inbox didn't surprise him but the message did.
"Nothing urgent. Just something he hoped you'd receive together."
Together.
Joong read that word over and over again until it blurred into the screen.
The lawyer — Mr. Waranon, middle-aged and too kind for his job greeted them with a warm but neutral smile. He didn't mention their stiff posture or the visible distance between them. Instead, he gestured politely toward the leather chairs in front of his desk.
"Thank you both for coming on such short notice," he said, settling in across from them. "I'll get right to the point."
Dunk nodded once. Joong said nothing.
Mr. Waranon opened a folder and slid a single sheet forward.
"Your grandfather's will was intentionally... minimal. But there's one final condition we hadn't yet disclosed — at his request. He wanted this revealed only after the marriage was legally filed."
Joong leaned slightly forward, eyes narrowing. "What kind of condition?"
Mr. Waranon hesitated just long enough to make it feel intentional.
"He requested that you go on a honeymoon together," he said, calm but firm. "Just the two of you. Within the next two months."
Dunk blinked. "What?"
"A trip," the lawyer clarified. "Of your choosing. He didn't specify where only that it must be shared, documented and last a minimum of seven days. I believe he meant it as a... gesture. A way to reconnect. To see if something real can still grow."
Joong's expression didn't change but Dunk let out a soft breath, almost like a laugh the kind that didn't sound amused at all.
"Of course he did," Dunk murmured, more to himself than anyone else.
Mr. Waranon folded his hands. "The funds tied to the inheritance will not be released until after the honeymoon is complete. He left that very clear. Photos, tickets, confirmation of travel all must be submitted through our office."
Joong finally spoke, voice low. "This is ridiculous."
But Dunk didn't echo him. Instead, he stared at the paper in front of them, lips pressed into a thin line. The room was quiet for a beat too long.
And then Dunk said, barely above a whisper, "We'll do it."
Joong turned to look at him. "Are you serious?"
Dunk didn't meet his eyes. He just nodded once, hands resting on his knees.
"He wanted this," Dunk said. "I'm not going to ignore that."
There was weight behind those words, something Joong heard but didn't fully understand.
He didn't know how often Dunk had sat in Grandpa's garden, talking for hours. Didn't know how Dunk had been the one to bring him tea every Sunday when Joong was too busy working. Didn't know that Grandpa had once quietly told Dunk, "I always knew you'd be part of this family no matter what happens."
Joong hadn't been there for those moments.
He'd been busy, absent and trying too hard not to ruin things. And now, Dunk was agreeing to something they both knew could break them further.
Joong looked back at the lawyer. "Fine," he said. "Let's get it over with."
But the knot in his chest told a different story.
...
The apartment felt too quiet again.
Dinner had come and gone a lazy arrangement of leftovers reheated in silence, eaten at the kitchen table without looking up. Now they were sitting on opposite ends of the couch, a laptop balanced between them, screen glowing dimly with an open tab labeled:
"Top 10 Honeymoon Destinations in Asia."
Neither of them said anything for a while.
Joong scrolled slowly. Dunk just watched, thumb resting near the trackpad but never moving. It felt like defusing a bomb.
Finally, Joong spoke, "Mountains or the beach?"
Dunk shrugged. "Doesn't matter. Whatever's easier."
Another scroll. The air felt like it was holding its breath.
"Easier for who?" Joong said quietly, not looking at him.
Dunk blinked. "I mean, just logistically. Flights, hotels. I don't care where we go."
Joong paused, his hand hovering just above the keyboard. "Right."
Silence.
Then, casually, too casually:
"Why don't you ask your friend what would be nice? Since you talk to him about everything."
Dunk turned slightly. "What?"
Joong didn't look at him. He clicked into a random hotel listing, too quickly.
"Nothing," Joong said.
But it wasn't nothing. His jaw was tight, his eyes didn't move across the screen like he was actually reading. He just wanted something to look at that wasn't Dunk.
Dunk didn't know what to say.
He felt the words rising "What does that mean?" — but something stopped him.
He exhaled slowly instead and sat back.
"...Bali's fine," he said, voice light. Like they were just picking dates. Like that line hadn't landed like glass between them.
Joong nodded once, still not meeting his gaze.
And the laptop screen kept glowing between them. A perfectly nice resort. A shared bed. Seven days of pretending.
And neither of them wanted to be the first to say it,
this isn't about the trip.... it never was.
Joong clicked back to the main page.
He didn't say anything, just scrolled again. The silence between them had changed not heavier, just thinner. Like a wall made of paper. One wrong move and it would tear.
Dunk leaned forward slightly, squinting at the screen. "That one looks okay."
Joong didn't reply he just clicked at it.
A private villa in Ubud. Green everywhere, soft lights. And one bed, but they both pretended not to notice that.
Dunk cleared his throat. "Looks quiet, like not a lot of people."
Joong nodded once. "Fine."
The next few minutes passed with nothing but typing.
Names. Dates. Passport numbers.
Joong filled in the information like he was registering for a dentist appointment. Dunk handed over his ID without a word. At one point, their fingers brushed over the trackpad, neither of them acknowledged it.
"Paid," Joong said eventually, tapping the final confirmation, his voice was flat.
Dunk gave a small nod, staring at the screen. "Cool."
Another pause.
Joong closed the laptop.
They didn't say anything after that.
Dunk stayed on the couch even after Joong stood and walked off, his footsteps disappearing down the hallway.
The villa confirmation email pinged into their inbox minutes later.
Seven nights. Two guests.
Check-in: one week from today.
No refunds.
No turning back.
..
Time moves forward. And so do they, barely.. Like muscle memory.
They didn't talk about the trip much after booking it.
The confirmation email stayed unread in Dunk's inbox. Joong moved it to a separate folder. That was the kind of avoidance they'd settled into not cold, not sharp... just distant and careful.
The apartment stayed mostly quiet that week.
Dunk packed in small bursts. A few shirts folded on the bed. A pair of sandals he hadn't worn in over a year. He was still deciding whether to bring cologne when Joong passed by his open door and stopped.
"You're folding that wrong," Joong said, voice flat, already reaching for the shirt.
Dunk blinked. "What?"
Joong didn't answer. He took the linen shirt from Dunk's hands and folded it neatly, quick and precise. Then the next one and the next.
Dunk watched him. "You don't have to—"
"I know," Joong muttered, not looking up.
He finished the last shirt and placed it in the suitcase, smoothing it down with the back of his hand.
Dunk smiled a little, but kept it to himself.
Later, he caught Joong pulling out a charger from the drawer they both used, placing it quietly beside Dunk's toiletries bag.
Even later, Dunk found an extra toothbrush the kind he always used and already packed into their shared pouch.
⸻
One night before the flight, Dunk walked into the kitchen and found Joong already labeling their travel documents.
His name. Dunk's name. Neat handwriting.
Dunk leaned against the counter, arms crossed. "You always do this much prep for fake honeymoons?"
Joong didn't flinch. "It's not fake if we're actually going."
Dunk opened his mouth to say something but closed it again. He watched Joong line up the papers.
Passport. Boarding pass. ID. A tiny envelope with emergency cash.
He was always like this. Over-prepared, controlling and quietly kind in ways that looked like nothing at all.
Dunk hated how familiar it still felt.
Joong didn't look up. "Don't forget sunscreen."
"I wasn't going to."
"You were."
Dunk smiled again, just a little. "Whatever."
//—//
Dunk woke up before the alarm.
For a few seconds, he just laid there eyes still heavy, blanket pulled halfway up, the kind of quiet that only existed before sunrise settling over everything. The sky outside was soft, pale blue at the edges.
He rolled over and stared at the suitcase near his door. Fully packed, also zipped. Man it felt too real now.
In the kitchen, he heard soft movement. Cabinet doors, a drawer opening, a spoon clinking gently against a cup.
He blinked.
Joong was already awake.
⸻
By the time Dunk wandered in hoodie, hair still a mess, Joong had already made two mugs of tea. He didn't say anything. Just slid one across the counter without looking up.
Dunk mumbled a quiet, "Thanks," and took it. They drank in silence.
Joong was already dressed very neatly, casually and plane ready. Dunk looked at him and hated how calm he looked.
And yet.
Joong noticed when Dunk couldn't find his passport.
He was the one who remembered to pack extra masks, backup charger, motion sickness meds.
He was the one who kept checking the time, tapping lightly at his watch every fifteen minutes without saying a word.
Dunk followed him out the door with his suitcase trailing behind, head still foggy, heart weirdly quiet.
Dunk stared at the terminal signs for a full ten seconds before mumbling, "So where are we—"
"Domestic transfers are this way," Joong cut in gently, already leading the way.
Dunk blinked, then followed.
He didn't mean to walk so close behind. It just happened. Joong knew where to go, where to stop, what line to stand in. Dunk just existed behind him, quiet and still half awake.
Joong scanned their documents. Handled the boarding pass mix up. Answered a flight attendant's question when Dunk stared too long trying to understand it.
"You're useless in the morning," Joong muttered under his breath.
Dunk huffed, "I'm functioning."
Joong didn't look back. "Barely."
They reached the gate early and sat side by side, one seat between them. Not on purpose but neither of them moved to close the gap.
Joong pulled out his phone and scrolled. Dunk sat with his hands in his lap, glancing at the departure board, then back at Joong.
He didn't know why it felt like this. Heavy, but not hostile. Like a silence that had lived between them long before today.
When boarding was called, Joong stood first.
"Come on," he said.
Dunk stood, adjusting his backpack, but before he could sling it over his shoulder, Joong reached out and took it from him very casually, like he'd done it a hundred times before. Like it was natural.
Dunk stared at him. "You don't have to carry my—"
"I know," Joong said, already walking.
Dunk didn't finish the sentence. He just followed.
They boarded the plane quietly, walking down the narrow aisle until they reached their row. Joong let Dunk take the window seat. Neither of them said it aloud, but they'd always sat that way before.
Dunk slid in, pulled his hoodie tighter and leaned against the wall. Joong took the aisle.
The middle seat between them stayed empty for a while until someone in the next row asked to trade places and Joong agreed without a word.
Now there was no space between them. Elbows close. Shoulders brushing every so often with the shift of turbulence.
They didn't speak during takeoff.
Joong rested his head against the seat, eyes closed, arms crossed tightly over his chest. Dunk sat beside him, pressed close to the window, his fingers curled around the edge of the blanket the airline had handed out. The hum of the engines filled the silence between them.
It wasn't uncomfortable, not really. Just... cautious.. Like they were both too aware of how close they were. As the plane climbed, sunlight began to pour in through the small window beside Dunk. Harsh, golden light, cutting right across his face.
Before he could reach for it himself, Joong leaned over not looking at him and pulled the window shade down in one smooth motion. He didn't say anything. He just settled back into his seat like it meant nothing.
But Dunk blinked slowly, caught off guard by the familiar gesture. He used to do that all the time, used to close the light off for him during early flights, knowing Dunk hated waking up to it.
A few minutes passed.
Dunk shifted slightly in his seat, adjusting the blanket around his lap. It wasn't cold, but the air always got dry in flights like this. Without thinking too hard, he pulled the edge of the blanket just enough that it brushed over Joong's leg too, not fully covering him, but close enough.
Joong noticed. Of course he did. His body tensed for half a second but then relaxed again.
Dunk shifted again, slower this time. The lull of the plane, the dimmed lights, the soft rumble beneath them it all blended into something weightless. Soothing. Then, without warning, his head tipped gently to the side and landed on Joong's shoulder.
Joong froze.
He didn't breathe for a second, not because it startled him, but because it hurt how natural it felt. How familiar.
Dunk's weight was warm. His cheek pressed against Joong's hoodie, breath soft and even. Completely asleep.
Joong didn't move.
He stared straight ahead, eyes wide open, jaw clenched. His fingers curled tightly around the edge of the seat. He could feel Dunk's body leaning into his, could feel the trust in it unconscious, unspoken.
It wasn't fair.
He missed this.
Missed him.
More than anything, he wanted to lean his head just slightly against Dunk's. To close his eyes, to pretend this was still something real.
But he didn't.
He sat there still, quiet, aching and let himself feel the full weight of what it meant to love someone who didn't look back anymore.
And just before they landed, when the overhead lights flickered back on and the cabin stirred with movement Joong gently shifted Dunk's head off his shoulder and leaned it against the window instead.
So Dunk would wake up and never know.
........
The heat hit them the moment they stepped out of the airport.
It wasn't unbearable just warm, thick, and scented with ocean wind and something vaguely sweet. Dunk squinted against the sunlight, pulling his hoodie down and immediately regretting wearing it at all.
Joong was already walking ahead, suitcase wheels humming against the pavement.
The driver held a sign with both their names on it, smiling as he guided them to a black car waiting near the curb.
Dunk slid into the backseat beside Joong, wordless. His limbs still heavy from the flight. He didn't say anything about falling asleep. Didn't even realize he had.
Joong didn't mention it either.
The ride was quiet, the windows down, the island passing them by in waves of green and blue.
Dunk watched it all, head leaning slightly against the window glass. He wasn't tired just somewhere else entirely.
⸻
They arrived twenty five minutes later.
The villa sat tucked behind a white stone wall, half hidden by tall trees and flowering vines. A private gate opened slowly to let them in remote controlled, automatic.
Dunk stepped out first.
It was... stunning.
A narrow walkway led through a small garden to the front door. Past it, a view of the ocean stretched wide and endless. The villa was all soft whites and smooth wood and sheer curtains that swayed in the breeze, and a pool that seemed to disappear into the sea beyond.
Joong walked in behind him, slower and less impressed. Like beauty wasn't enough to shake what he felt.
A welcome note lay on the kitchen counter.
Handwritten..
"Enjoy your stay, Mr. Archen & Natachai."
Dunk dropped his bag by the stairs. "Guess this is it."
Joong nodded once. "Yeah."
They both stood in the middle of the living room, looking around but not at each other.
The villa had one bedroom.
Of course it did.
The bed was king sized, soft looking and draped in white. There was only one set of slippers. One bathroom. Everything designed for two people in love.
Dunk cleared his throat. "I'll unpack later."
Joong didn't answer.
The sea breeze moved through the open window, warm and slow.
Joong disappeared upstairs first.
He didn't say anything just took his suitcase, walked past the open bedroom door, and vanished into the big bathroom. Dunk heard the click of the door, then the faint splash of running water.
Dunk stayed downstairs.
He wandered barefoot through the open living space, dragging his fingers along the smooth wood of the kitchen island, then across the back of the couch. Everything was quiet. Bright.. The kind of space made for couples who smiled at each other over breakfast.
Not whatever this was.
He found a pitcher of cool water in the fridge, already prepared by the host, and poured himself a glass. His throat was dry.
A few minutes later, Joong came back down.
He had changed into something lighter, a thin white t-shirt, loose linen pants. His hair was still damp around the edges, sticking slightly to his forehead.
He didn't say anything when he passed Dunk in the kitchen. Just opened the cabinet, took a glass, and poured himself water too.
For a moment, they stood side by side.
The sound of the waves filtered through the open window.
Then softly, almost too quiet to hear Joong said, "You okay?"
Dunk blinked.
He didn't know what to say. He hadn't expected the question, not like that, not without sharpness or suspicion.
"Yeah," he said finally, voice low. "Just... tired."
Joong nodded. "Me too."
Another pause.
"You can take the bed," Dunk said, half looking at the staircase. "I'll sleep on the couch tonight."
Joong shook his head. "It's fine. We're not strangers."
That word landed weird.
Dunk almost replied almost, but then Joong stepped away, walked over to the poolside glass door, and slid it open.
The outside air poured in. It was very warm.
Dunk followed after a moment, barefoot steps quiet against the floor.
They stood on the patio together. The pool reflected the sky. The ocean was only a few meters away, just past a short stone path and some low hedges.
Neither of them spoke.
But they stood there for a while not far but also not close. Just... beside each other. In silence and watching the sun dip lower in the sky.
They didn't feel like strangers and that was the problem.
Joong leaned forward against the railing, elbows resting on the warm wood, his eyes fixed somewhere far past the waves.
Dunk stood a few steps behind him.
He hadn't meant to stare. Not really.
But when Joong stepped back into the sunlight, his hair still damp from the shower, sleeves pushed up to his elbows, a thin white shirt hanging loose on his frame—
it hit him.
Just for a second, it felt like before.
Joong used to talk all the time. Not loudly, but softly. Thoughtfully. About everything little things he noticed, dreams he had, things he wanted to do next.
Now he was so quiet.
Dunk hated it.
And maybe missed it more than he'd admit.
Dunk swallowed.
"You look good with your hair like that," he said quietly, surprising even himself.
Joong froze for a heartbeat. His gaze cut toward Dunk, slow, unreadable.
Dunk didn't look away.
He wasn't sure why he said it. Maybe it was the way the light caught in the edges of Joong's lashes. Maybe it was the way the ocean wind made everything feel slower, softer and more fragile.
Joong blinked, then turned back toward the house.
"Didn't realize you were still keeping track."
It wasn't cold. Just... casual. Like he didn't know what to do with the compliment.
Dunk's chest tightened. "I notice things."
Dunk moved closer, just enough that they stood shoulder to shoulder, both staring ahead.
The sea looked endless.
"It's nice here," Dunk said, barely louder than the breeze.
Joong hummed. "It is."
They didn't say anything else for a while. Just stood like that.
Somewhere, a bird called from a tree.
Somewhere further, a wave broke gently against the shore.
Dunk's shoulder brushed Joong's for half a second when he shifted his weight. Joong didn't move away but he didn't lean in, either.
Eventually, Joong pushed off the railing. "I'm gonna go inside."
Dunk nodded, watching him go. He didn't follow.
Not at first.
The villa grew quiet again.
Dunk stayed outside until the sun fully dipped below the sea, casting everything in soft blue. The air was still warm, but gentler now, like the island was exhaling.
When he finally went inside, the place felt different. Calmer and lived-in.
There was the sound of water again soft, rhythmic. Not the ocean. It was closer.
He stepped out onto the back deck, and there Joong was.
Another pool he didn't know about.
Not swimming laps, not doing anything serious. Just floating, slow movements in the water, like he was letting the heat leave his body. His hair was slicked back now, skin glistening under the moonlight, eyes half closed.
Dunk stood at the edge for a second, watching him.
"You're gonna wrinkle," he said quietly.
Joong opened one eye. "Don't care."
There was no bite in his voice. He was just honest.
Dunk hesitated, then pulled his shirt over his head. He hadn't planned on swimming. But something about the way Joong moved weightless, unguarded made him want to try.
He stepped in slowly. The water was warm.
Joong didn't say anything.
They stayed like that for a while, both of them floating near opposite edges of the pool. The silence stretched. But it wasn't sharp. Just... there.
Eventually, Dunk spoke. "This place is really beautiful."
Joong nodded. "Yeah."
"I thought it'd be harder," Dunk said after a moment. "Seeing you again."
Joong looked over at him. "Is it?"
Dunk didn't answer the question and Joong didn't push.
They floated in silence two people still pretending not to fall back into something they never really left.
They floated quietly, the water warm around them. Dunk kept close to the edge, fingers skimming the tiled wall. Joong was further out, his eyes on the stars, not saying much.
It wasn't peaceful, but it wasn't tense either. Just... quiet. Still.
The kind of silence that felt like both of them were thinking too loudly in their own heads.
Dunk glanced at him. "Did you plan on swimming this whole time?"
Joong shrugged, slow and fluid in the water. "Wasn't planning anything. Just needed to move."
"You already showered," Dunk said, voice almost teasing.
Joong gave him a side glance. "And?"
"You're impossible."
Joong didn't smile, but he didn't snap back either. "You say that like it's new."
Dunk huffed a breath, looking away.
The water lapped softly against the tiles. Somewhere in the distance, a gecko clicked in the night air.
"You've always liked silence, huh?" Dunk said after a moment.
Joong stretched his arms back behind his head, floating slowly. "It's the only thing that doesn't ask questions."
Dunk didn't answer. He just sank a little deeper, the water up to his collarbones.
Dunk drifted closer, just enough that Joong's movements sent small ripples in his direction.
"You always hated talking late at night," he said, more to the water than to Joong. "Said it made you too honest."
Joong didn't deny it. "Still true."
"So are we skipping honesty now?"
Joong glanced over at him. His voice was soft, careful. "Would it help if we weren't?"
Dunk thought about it, then shook his head. "Probably not."
Joong ran a hand through his wet hair, pushing it back from his face. "You never liked silence."
Dunk's voice was quieter now. "No. I hated it. Especially when you started using it against me."
Joong didn't react right away. His expression stayed unreadable. Only the water moved, a slow swirl around his shoulders.
"I didn't mean to."
Dunk let that hang in the air. It wasn't an apology, not really. But it was closer than anything he'd heard in months.
He sank lower in the water, arms resting along the edge of the pool behind him. His body was still, but inside he felt like a spark had gone off a small, quiet one but still impossible to ignore.
Joong was floating again, eyes on the sky.
"Stars don't look the same when you're not happy," he said suddenly, almost like he was talking to himself.
Dunk blinked. "What?"
Joong didn't answer immediately. He let his arms drift beside him, keeping him afloat, the water brushing his collarbones. His voice, when it came, was low. Almost a whisper.
"When I was still flying around all the time photoshoots, events, casting stuff —I used to look for constellations from every city. Tokyo. Milan. Dubai."
A pause.
"They all looked different. I thought maybe I just wasn't looking right. Or maybe I was too tired. But now I think it's just—"
He stopped.
Dunk's gaze didn't leave him. "Just what?"
Joong's eyes flicked toward him, hesitant. "Just that things don't feel the same when you're not happy. Even the stars."
He sank a little deeper in the water, letting the silence ripple between them before continuing, softer now:
"I was always chasing the next thing. Always trying to prove something. And every time I looked up, the sky felt... wrong. Off. Like I was in the wrong place."
Dunk didn't say anything yet. His eyes were sharp in the dark, focused entirely on Joong. There was no judgment just listening. Joong let his head fall back slightly, staring up again.
His voice barely rose above the water. "It's strange. I used to love traveling."
Dunk stayed quiet.
Joong blinked once, slowly. "Now I can't remember a single hotel room that ever felt like home."
That was it.
He didn't wait for a response. Just moved toward the steps, quiet and unbothered by the chill. He grabbed a towel from the rack and disappeared into the villa again, leaving behind only the faint echo of his words and the soft, stilled water where he'd floated.
Dunk remained in the pool. Still watching the stars.
They looked the same to him.
But maybe he understood now why they hadn't for Joong.
.....
The villa was darker now.
Only the hallway light spilled faintly into the bedroom, casting warm shadows along the wall. The sheets had been pulled back. The air smelled faintly of salt and clean linen.
Joong stepped out of the bathroom with a towel still around his shoulders, hair damp again. His eyes flicked toward the bed, then away. He moved quietly like a guest in his own home.
Dunk was already under the covers.
He wasn't asleep. Just lying there, one hand resting on his chest, eyes fixed somewhere near the ceiling.
Neither of them said anything.
Joong dried his hair half heartedly, then turned off the hallway light.
The room dimmed.
He slipped into the bed without a word, careful not to shift the mattress too much. He stayed on his side as far from Dunk as the space would allow, back turned, body stiff with restraint.
Dunk shifted once. Adjusted the blanket and let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding.
There was no anger tonight. No tension..
A kind of exhausted peace that sat heavy in the air.
Joong blinked into the darkness, his eyes not adjusting. The sound of Dunk's breathing was steady behind him not close, not far.
But also not unfamiliar.
They'd done this before. Slept like this. Years ago.
But back then there had always been warmth. A hand on the back, a breath against the neck, a sleepy whisper. Something that tethered them together even in the dark.
Now there was only space. And a silence that felt permanent.
He didn't sleep for a long time.
Neither did Dunk.
—///—
The sun had barely lifted when Dunk stepped out of the villa.
The path behind the house led down a small hill, wrapped in palms and pale sand. Just waves, wind and a thin trail packed down by foot traffic.
He didn't stretch properly. Didn't warm up.
He just started running.
The morning air was thick, but not unbearable. The sea breeze helped. So did the rhythm left, right, breathe, exhale. His shoes kicked up loose sand in patches, the muscles in his legs burning in a way he welcomed.
It was easier to focus on the road. On the ache. On the movement.
Easier than thinking about Joong.
But Joong was still there in the heaviness in his chest. In the leftover tension in his shoulders. In the way his mind kept circling back to the night before, replaying that quiet, half finished moment by the pool.
He hadn't expected Joong to talk at all. Let alone say something like that.
He used to love traveling. Now he can't remember a single hotel room that felt like home.
Dunk gritted his teeth and pushed himself harder.
The path curved inland for a while, past overgrown grass and old fences. He kept going. The burn in his thighs felt good, grounding. He needed this, needed something real, something his body could understand.
The feelings, though... they were harder.
Because no matter how far he ran, Joong's voice still lingered in his head. And worse that flash of honesty, the way he'd said it, like he didn't expect Dunk to care anymore.
But he did care. That was the problem.
Dunk slowed eventually, breath heavy, shirt clinging to his back with sweat.
He stopped at the top of a small slope, hands on his hips, eyes on the horizon.
The waves were louder here and the villa was out of sight.
He closed his eyes.
Just for a minute. Let the sound fill his ears. Let his heart settle.
Joong was still asleep when he left.
Or at least, Dunk hoped he was.
He wasn't ready to face whatever came next.
—
The door clicked shut behind him as Dunk stepped back into the villa, skin still damp with sweat and sea air.
He moved quietly, shoes kicked off, shirt clinging to his back.
The place was still quiet. No sign of Joong.
Good.
He didn't feel like pretending yet.
Dunk grabbed a towel and made his way to the guest bathroom, the one across from the kitchen, smaller but untouched.
The water came on cold. He stepped under it anyway.
For a few seconds, it was all just water. Nothing else. No thinking, no remembering. Just the sting of cold against his skin and the steam beginning to build around him.
The shower water ran warm against his back now.
Dunk closed his eyes, tilted his head into the spray, and exhaled slowly. The jog had helped a little. But the weight hadn't left his chest, not even close.
And as the water dripped past his collarbones, his thoughts started drifting not into silence, but into memory.
[Flashback]
He'd been curled on the couch with a blanket over his shoulders, waiting. Not for a message, he'd already stopped expecting replies when Joong was on set, but maybe just a voice or a door opening. A "sorry I'm late."
Instead, it was quiet.
So he stayed up, scrolling.
A friend had sent a stupid meme. He replied.
They chatted. Nothing special.
But it felt better than staring at the dark hallway.
Better than wondering if Joong would walk in and even notice that he waited.
He didn't even hear Joong come in until he spoke.
"Still awake?"
Dunk looked up, surprised. "Yeah."
That was it. Joong didn't ask what he was doing. Didn't join him. Just said he'd shower and walked away.
Dunk remembered pausing mid reply, wondering if he should follow. If he should ask but something stopped him.
They were always tired now. Both of them.
And honestly? Dunk didn't want to feel rejected again.
⸻
Another memory drifted in brief, but sharp.
He'd run into the kitchen with his phone, excited. There was a video he found that reminded him of Joong not in a big way, just a small, funny moment he wanted to share.
"Look," he said, holding the screen up.
Joong didn't even glance. "Later, okay? I really can't right now."
Dunk had smiled, but something inside dropped.
He walked away and tried to shrug it off. Sent the video to someone else. Someone who always laughed with him. It wasn't a replacement, just... a response.
Later, he posted it to his story. He didn't think Joong would even notice.
But deep down, he hoped he would.
⸻
And the last memory — the one that still twisted his stomach even now.
Joong had been gone all week. Dunk had cooked dinner the night before, hoping maybe they'd eat together when he got home.
No text, no update just silence.
So when his friend asked him to come out for dinner said he needed to talk, needed company, Dunk said yes. He left a note on the counter.
He didn't think twice.
Because Joong hadn't said he was coming home early.
Hadn't asked if he wanted to stay in.
And Dunk was tired of eating alone...
//—//
In the present, steam still clung to the bathroom mirror.
Dunk stood with a towel around his waist, staring at his reflection like it might offer answers. It didn't.
Back then, he had felt so unwanted. Like Joong was slipping away, and no matter how quietly Dunk waited, it was never enough to make him stay.
He hadn't meant to hurt him.
But maybe he had.
They were both hurting.
Both trying to hold on in different ways.
And failing.
...
The papaya was too ripe.
Joong sat at the small table near the open glass doors, fork dragging slowly through slices that had started to melt into the edges of the bowl. He'd peeled it half asleep, not really thinking. The sweetness clung to his fingertips. He didn't reach for a napkin.
Outside, the sea glittered in soft, early light. The waves moved lazily against the shore. The wind drifted in through sheer curtains, warm.
Somewhere down the hall, a door closed.
Footsteps followed, lighter than usual and familiar in a way he wished they weren't.
Joong didn't move.
He didn't look up when he heard Dunk approach , didn't acknowledge the quiet shuffle of feet across tile, the faint sound of water still clinging to skin. He just kept his eyes fixed on the ocean, fork slow and steady in his hand.
He told himself to stay calm. Be civil. The pool talk from yesterday had felt okay, even nice, and they'd managed a peaceful first night. There was no reason to ruin it now.
Still... the weight lingered.
That call. That laugh.
He wasn't dwelling on it. Not exactly.
But it sat in his chest like something unfinished. Like something never said.
He heard Dunk pause in the doorway.
Silence stretched between them.
"Morning," Dunk said eventually, voice soft but not unsure.
Joong didn't turn. "Morning."
He heard Dunk step inside, move toward the counter. He imagined him opening cabinets one by one, pretending to search for something just to give his hands a job. Dunk never was good with quiet.
Joong pushed another piece of fruit around his bowl.
"You already ate?" Dunk asked, behind him now.
Joong nodded. "Wasn't hungry."
A pause. A cupboard clicked shut.
"You're eating papaya."
Joong finally glanced back only halfway, just enough to meet his eyes over his shoulder. "Didn't say I wasn't eating. I said I wasn't hungry."
It wasn't meant to sound cold. But it did.
Dunk didn't respond and Joong turned back around.
More silence. Longer this time.
He wished he hadn't said that. He wished Dunk would say something else. Anything.
But when he finally did, it wasn't what Joong expected.
Dunk's voice was soft and casual, like he was trying to make it lighter again.
"You always picked the softest fruit in the store. Took you forever."
Joong blinked. The fork stilled.
He hadn't thought about that in years. How they'd wandered grocery aisles back then. How Joong would test five papayas before choosing one. How Dunk had teased him for it, every time.
Something sharp twisted in his chest.
"I still do," Joong murmured, not looking up.
He heard Dunk let out a quiet breath. Not a laugh.
Another silence passed. This one didn't feel so heavy.
"You still jog early," he said.
Dunk blinked, caught off guard. "Huh?"
"In the mornings," Joong added, slower this time. "You used to say it helped clear your head."
Dunk gave a small laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. "Guess I still do. Muscle memory."
Joong nodded once, then looked back at his plate.
Dunk tilted his head. "You remembered that?"
"I remember a lot of things," Joong said. The fork paused between his fingers. "Not on purpose."
That hung in the air for a beat too long.
Joong pushed the fruit around again. Behind him, Dunk didn't say anything.
Joong finally stood, carried the bowl to the sink, rinsed it quietly, and set it down.
Then without looking he asked, "Wanna sit outside?"
Dunk hesitated. "With you?"
Joong turned just enough to glance at him. Not a full look. Just his eyes.
"I wouldn't have asked if I didn't mean it."
He opened the patio door and stepped out.
Behind him, he heard Dunk follow. The breeze kicked sand at Joong's ankle. He brushed it off lazily and flicked a grain toward Dunk's towel.
Dunk narrowed his eyes. "Did you just throw sand at me?"
Joong didn't look up. "That depends. Are you going to whine about it?"
"I'm just saying, if you want to start something—"
"You'd cry."
"You'd cry," Dunk shot back, shifting slightly to face him more. "You're the dramatic one."
Joong turned his head, finally looking at him behind his sunglasses. "You literally brought a plant on a plane because you said it would get lonely."
"It would!"
"It's a succulent, Dunk."
"All life deserves emotional support."
Joong snorted.
Dunk smiled, almost like he hadn't meant to. He looked away quickly, reaching for his water bottle and mumbling something under his breath.
Joong tilted his head. "What?"
"Nothing."
"Did you just call me annoying?"
"I said nothing."
"Okay." Joong leaned back on his hands, letting the sunlight warm his shoulders. "But if I see a single sandcastle near that plant, I'm reporting you to the airport."
"That doesn't even make sense—"
Joong shrugged. "Neither do you most of the time."
Dunk huffed, but Joong could see the corner of his mouth twitching again.
Dunk leaned to the side, casually scooped a handful of dry sand, and tossed it toward Joong's shin.
It landed in a lazy little puff.
Joong blinked at it. Then slowly turned his head, expression unreadable behind his sunglasses. "...Did you just throw sand at me?"
Dunk grinned. "That depends. Are you going to whine about it?"
Joong grabbed a fistful of sand.
"Don't," Dunk warned.
Joong raised an eyebrow.
"I'm not kidding. You're childish. You'll get it in my eyes—"
Joong launched it.
Not a full toss. Just enough to make Dunk flinch, squint, and mutter a curse under his breath.
"I hate you," Dunk said, brushing sand from his shirt.
"You always say that right before you start smiling."
"I'm not smiling."
"You are."
"I'm not—"
Joong pointed. "There. Your mouth. Right now."
Dunk clamped his jaw shut and turned away, facing the ocean like it could protect him from how obvious he was being.
Joong didn't stop watching him.
He leaned back again, hands behind him, ankles crossed, face angled just slightly toward the sun.
"You still can't lie properly," he said.
Dunk didn't answer, but his ears turned a little pink.
Joong smiled to himsel
Just a little.
The sand clung to Joong's legs in patches, warm from the sun. A soft breeze blew in from the sea, carrying the scent of salt and something faintly sweet. His sunglasses sat low on the bridge of his nose, more for armor than shade.
Dunk was still beside him, toes digging into the sand, hands propped behind him as he leaned back and squinted toward the water.
They hadn't spoken in a few minutes. But it wasn't heavy like before, just quiet.
Joong thought he might prefer it this way. A pause instead of a crack.
Dunk moved first.
He stood, brushing sand from the back of his legs and stretching his arms overhead. His shirt rode up just slightly with the motion, revealing a thin line of skin above his waistband.
Joong looked away.
Not fast enough.
"You going in?" Joong asked, voice flat.
"Obviously," Dunk said with a shrug. "Unless you're scared of jellyfish now."
Joong scoffed. "You're literally the one who cried about a leaf touching your foot."
"That was seaweed," Dunk muttered, walking toward the shore. "And it grabbed me."
Joong didn't argue. He stood slowly, shaking out his towel before letting it drop onto their shared patch of sand. The heat against his skin made him blink. He followed Dunk not close, but close enough to watch.
Dunk stepped into the water like he belonged there. No hesitation, just a steady walk forward until the waves hit his calves, then his thighs. And then he dipped under, vanishing for a few seconds before surfacing again with a shake of his head.
Joong paused where the water met his ankles.
It was warm, not bathwater warm, but gentle.
Dunk was already waist deep, pushing his hair back and glancing over his shoulder.
"What?" he called out. "Chicken?"
Joong didn't answer.
He stepped in further, letting the water climb up his legs, soaking the edge of his shorts. When he got close enough, he flicked water toward Dunk's face.
Dunk flinched and yelped. "Seriously?"
Joong smirked.
"You're gonna regret that," Dunk warned.
Joong rolled his eyes. "Big threat from a guy who once ran from a crab."
"It was huge."
Joong splashed him again.
And that was all it took.
Dunk lunged arms flailing, water flying everywhere, the air filled with half shouts and laughter. For a moment, Joong forgot what it felt like to be angry. He just moved ducking, throwing water, slipping slightly on the sand underfoot and catching himself with a breathless laugh he hadn't let out in months.
They chased each other in lazy circles, waves crashing around their knees. Dunk splashed like a child, but with enough precision to hit Joong right in the face.
Joong spluttered, blinking through the water. "You—"
Dunk grinned, the sun glinting off his wet skin. "Truce?"
Joong lunged for him not hard, not serious, just a nudge that sent them both stumbling. Dunk caught himself with one hand on Joong's arm.
Joong barely gave Dunk time to let go.
The moment Dunk's hand slipped from his arm that quick retreat, that flash of uncertainty behind the grin — Joong moved.
He reached out, fast and unbothered, both hands landing square on Dunk's shoulders as he muttered, "Truce this," and shoved.
Dunk yelped as he stumbled back, lost his footing, and disappeared under the water with a dramatic splash.
Joong stood there, water to his waist, hair dripping into his eyes, trying not to laugh.
The silence under the surface stretched a little too long.
"Dunk?"
No answer.
Joong squinted, shifting his weight, just starting to worry when a body surged up from behind him, arms wrapped around his waist, cold hands sliding across soaked fabric.
Joong gasped, startled, twisted in place and then they were both in the water again, tangled limbs, muffled curses, more splashes than threat.
Dunk had pounced from behind like a soaked gremlin, arms winding around Joong's waist as they both went under in a flurry of limbs and seawater. Joong surfaced first, sputtering, pushing his wet hair out of his face. Dunk came up right after, laughing loud, real, the kind that punched Joong in the chest before he could stop it.
They stared at each other, catching their breath, barely chest deep in the waves. The sun caught on the water around them, turning everything gold.
Joong blinked once. Then, with barely any warning, he flicked water up into Dunk's face.
Dunk gasped, stumbled, and retaliated immediately with both hands, sending a wave crashing into Joong's chest.
They were ten years old for the next few minutes. Throwing water, swearing through laughter, ducking and lunging and slipping.
At some point, Joong lunged too far and slipped. His hand caught Dunk's wrist, maybe to steady himself, maybe not. They both froze for a second close, wet skin pressed against wet skin, water swirling around them like it knew what it was doing.
Dunk's breath hitched, just barely.
Joong didn't look at him.
He let go.
"Truce," Dunk muttered, pushing his hair back with one hand.
Joong didn't say anything. His chest felt too tight for something so dumb.
Then he shoved Dunk's face straight into the water.
A shriek bubbled out from under the surface.
Joong grinned.
Dunk came up coughing, flinging seawater in every direction. "You absolute asshole—!"
"Truce is over," Joong said.
"I'm gonna drown you."
"You tried. You failed."
"I'll try harder."
"You always say that."
They circled each other for a bit longer, the fight mostly burned out of their limbs now. The waves were soft against their waists, sun warm above them, and the only sound between them for a moment was the gentle rush of the sea.
Joong ran a hand through his hair again, pushing it off his forehead. Dunk wiped salt from his lashes. Neither of them spoke.
It wasn't silence anymore
Joong glanced at Dunk, his mouth slightly parted like he was about to say something maybe something biting, maybe something stupid.. but instead, he just exhaled and turned toward the shore.
"I'm done," he said.
"Oh, so now you're scared of jellyfish," Dunk says.
Joong didn't answer.
He just stood there for another moment, water swirling gently around his waist.
Dunk stood there, his breathing still a little uneven from laughing, water dripping from the ends of his hair. The sun caught in the droplets on his shoulders, and his lips—
Joong's eyes dropped before he could stop himself.
He hadn't meant to stare.
But there they were, the lips he used to know so well. The ones that had smiled against his own. Kissed down his neck. Whispered apologies he'd wanted to believe.
His gaze lingered.
Just a second too long.
They looked the same. A little more tired, maybe. Still soft, still familiar.
His chest ached.
He didn't realize how still he'd gone until Dunk shifted. The movement broke whatever spell Joong had fallen into.
Dunk's brow furrowed, playful confusion fading into something quieter. "What?" he asked.
Joong shook his head, blinked like he'd just come out of a daze. "Nothing."
But his voice was thinner than he meant it to be.
Dunk didn't laugh this time. Didn't tease.
He just held Joong's gaze for a moment. Something about it was... softer than before. And then, without a word, he turned his face away.
The air between them went still again.
It wasn't tense. Just... fragile.
Joong ran a hand through his hair, not knowing what to do with the quiet.
Because he knew what he saw. And from the look Dunk gave him just now, maybe Dunk saw it too.
...
Joong didn't say anything as he stepped inside, towel slung over his shoulder, the back of his neck still damp. He didn't look at Dunk, he just walked in barefoot, crossed the open hallway, and disappeared into the far corner of the living space.
Dunk paused at the entrance, hair still dripping, water clinging to the curve of his collarbone. He rubbed the towel through his hair and let out a small sigh.
The heat wasn't gone, not really. Not from the air. He gave himself another minute before following.
He found Joong standing by the wall, arms folded loosely, staring at a framed photo above the small console table. It was nothing special, just a picture of the ocean at dusk, the sky fading blue and purple and gold. But the angle, the curve of the shore, — it looked almost exactly like the place they'd just been.
Joong didn't turn around.
Dunk cleared his throat. "That photo's not even good," he said. "The horizon's crooked."
Joong didn't move. "Didn't ask."
Dunk rolled his eyes. "You're such a bitch sometimes."
That finally earned him a glance unimpressed and somehow still pretty. Joong lifted an eyebrow. "Only sometimes?"
There was no bite in it. Just... quiet sarcasm. Familiar in a way that settled weirdly in Dunk's chest.
He looked away first. "I'm gonna cook," he muttered, heading toward the kitchen. "Unless you wanna starve and die here."
Joong stayed where he was. For a second, Dunk thought he'd let the moment pass, but then he heard the soft sound of bare feet behind him, the rustle of a towel dropped onto the counter.
"Do we even have anything?" Joong asked.
Dunk opened a cabinet. "Pasta. Tomatoes. Maybe something that used to be basil."
Joong peered into the fridge. "There's cheese," he said, grabbing it. "You're grating it."
"You're not the boss of me."
"I'm literally older than you."
"Oh my god."
Joong didn't smile, but the corners of his mouth twitched. Dunk caught it just barely and turned away quickly
They moved around each other like magnets trying not to touch. Every time Dunk reached for the drawer, Joong was already there. Every time Joong leaned toward the spice rack, Dunk's elbow was in the way.
"Watch it," Dunk said, nudging Joong aside with his hip as he filled a pot with water.
"I was literally standing here first," Joong muttered.
"You're always in the way. Go chop something."
Joong opened a drawer, yanked out a cutting board, and slapped it onto the counter louder than necessary. "Don't tell me what to do."
"I will when you're hovering like a- like a—freakin' shadow," Dunk grumbled, flicking the stove on.
Joong picked up a head of garlic, then paused. "Do you even know how to cook pasta?"
"I'm boiling water," Dunk said. "Not performing surgery."
"That explains a lot."
Dunk whipped around. "What is that supposed to mean?"
Joong didn't look up from peeling garlic. "Nothing."
The kitchen was quiet for a moment just the click of the knife against the board, the gurgling of water heating up. Then Dunk opened the fridge and frowned. "Where's the onion?"
"Bottom drawer."
Dunk grabbed it, turned and tossed it toward Joong. Joong caught it reflexively with both hands and narrowed his eyes.
"I'm not your sous chef."
"You're already doing it. Might as well be one."
Joong sighed, pulled the onion apart with practiced fingers, and started slicing. "You want it thin or normal?"
"Thin," Dunk said without thinking.
Joong raised an eyebrow. "Why? You never cared before."
Dunk shrugged. "I care now."
"Fake."
"Faker than your skincare routine."
Joong stopped slicing and looked up slowly. "You wanna say that again?"
Dunk grinned, then turned back to check the boiling water. "Didn't think so."
A beat passed. Then the sound of Joong's knife tapping a little harder than necessary resumed.
Dunk dumped the pasta in, set a timer, and reached for the pan. "Okay, now olive oil—"
Joong cut in. "Not too much."
"I know."
"You don't, you always drown it—"
"Jesus," Dunk groaned, "do you want to do it?"
Joong stepped in like it was a challenge.
"I swear to god, if you—" Dunk tried to shift the pan, but Joong's hand was already on it. Their fingers bumped. The pan wobbled dangerously.
"Careful!" Joong snapped.
"Then stop grabbing shit while I'm cooking!"
"You weren't doing it right!"
"You don't even know what I was doing!"
"I always know what you're doing, and it's usually wrong—"
"Oh my god—"
They both reached for the handle again at the same time. It slipped. The pan tilted just enough for a sizzle of oil to splatter onto the stove.
"Shit!"
"Nice job, chef."
"Back off, I got it!"
Joong raised his hands like he was done, backing away dramatically. "Fine. You wanna burn the villa down? Be my guest."
Dunk glared at him, jaw tight, trying not to smile. "You're so annoying."
Joong leaned against the counter with arms crossed, watching him. "And yet here you are, cooking for me."
Dunk shot him a sideways look. "Don't flatter yourself."
Joong said nothing just smirked a little, smug and silent.
The pasta came together faster than either of them expected.
Mostly because they stopped talking.
Once the sauce started bubbling and the smell of garlic softened into something that didn't feel like a fight, Dunk lowered the heat and glanced toward Joong, who was now busy grating cheese with unnecessary aggression.
"You know that's enough, right?" Dunk muttered.
Joong didn't look up. "If I want extra cheese, I'm having extra cheese."
Dunk sighed. "You're gonna ruin the ratio."
"Live a little."
Dunk didn't argue. He just stirred the sauce, then plated the pasta in quiet, passing one to Joong without a word. He poured two glasses of water, grabbed a fork for himself, and they both made their way toward the table.
Joong picked the seat nearest the open patio doors. The late afternoon sun lit his side of the table in a hazy gold. Dunk sat across from him, not on purpose it just happened.
For a while, they didn't speak. Just ate.
It wasn't bad.
The sauce was a little too thick, and Dunk had forgotten to add salt to the water, but it tasted like something warm and real. And Joong hadn't said anything mean in five minutes, which had to be a record.
Dunk reached for his water. "Not bad," he said quietly.
Joong didn't respond right away. Then: "You've improved."
Dunk raised a brow. "Was that... almost a compliment?"
Joong poked his pasta. "Don't push it."
Dunk rolled his eyes and took another bite.
The silence settled between them again, but this time it didn't sting. It wasn't heavy. Just... full of things unsaid.
At one point, Dunk glanced up and caught Joong looking at him. Not glaring. Just looking. His eyes were slightly narrowed, like he was trying to figure something out.
"What?" Dunk asked, voice low.
Joong shook his head once. "Nothing."
But it wasn't nothing. Dunk felt it. That shift in the air. That tiny opening, the way Joong's fingers curled slightly tighter around his fork.
...
The sound of running water echoed through the villa.
Joong stood in the doorway of the bathroom, towel slung over one shoulder, watching the steam curl against the glass panel of the walk-in shower. The mirror was already fogged. He ran a hand through his hair and sighed.
He hadn't meant to linger after lunch. But Dunk had disappeared into the bedroom to change, and Joong found himself taking too long to clean the plates, to wipe the counter.
He stepped inside.
The water was still warm from the solar heater, and the villa's bathroom was far too open all smooth stone and soft lighting and no way to pretend this wasn't a honeymoon setup. Two sinks. Two towels hanging side by side. Even the shampoo smelled expensive and vaguely romantic.
He let the towel drop to the bench and stepped under the water, tilting his face into the stream with a soft exhale.
He hadn't realized how tense his shoulders were until the heat started to loosen them.
Ten minutes passed. Maybe more.
Then: a soft knock on the outer door. Followed by the unmistakable sound of it creaking open.
Joong stilled.
He expected silence. Maybe footsteps retreating. But instead a pause.
Then Dunk's voice, closer than expected. "You take long showers."
Joong blinked under the spray. "I was here first."
"Didn't say anything," Dunk muttered.
He sounded like he was standing near the counter.
Joong turned slightly, water still cascading down his back. "You're not seriously brushing your teeth right now."
"It's not like I'm joining you."
Joong let out a humorless laugh. "You're unbelievable."
He couldn't see much just a blurry outline through the fogged glass. But he could hear Dunk uncapping something, the faint sound of a toothbrush against porcelain. Domestic.
Casual.
Too casual.
"Do you mind?" Joong asked finally.
Dunk didn't answer right away. Then: "Not really."
Joong shook his head, turning back to the water. He washed his hair slower than necessary, more aware now of every movement. He didn't like how exposed he felt. How stupidly aware he was of the other presence in the room.
The toothbrush clinked against the sink.
"You done soon?" Dunk asked.
"Why?" Joong replied.
"I need to shower too."
Joong frowned. "Use the one downstairs."
"I like this one."
Joong opened the glass door slightly, steam rushing out into the bathroom. "Then wait."
Dunk was leaning against the counter, arms crossed now, in a loose black shirt and soft cotton shorts. His hair still hadn't fully dried from earlier, falling into his eyes in soft waves.
Joong stared at him for a second longer than he meant to.
Dunk raised an eyebrow. "What?"
Joong didn't reply. He stepped out of the shower wordlessly, reaching for the towel behind Dunk. Their hands brushed.
Neither moved.
Joong looked down at the contact, then slowly up at Dunk's face lips slightly parted, breath caught between a sigh and something else.
Joong took the towel, pulled it free gently, and stepped back. "It's all yours."
Dunk didn't say anything until Joong passed him. "Joong."
Joong paused in the doorway.
The steam wrapped around both of them. For a moment, the air felt too full.
But Joong didn't turn around. "Lock the door next time," he said quietly. "You never know who's gonna walk in."
And then he was gone.
Dunk stood still for a moment after Joong left, staring at the space he'd occupied.
Steam still lingered in the air, clinging to the mirror and curling along the edges of the counter. The only sound was the slow drip of water sliding from the edge of the shower glass onto the floor.
He exhaled. Not sharply just enough to ground himself.
Then he peeled his shirt off, kicked his shorts into the corner, and stepped under the shower.
The water hit his skin like heat meeting tension. He tilted his head back, let it run through his hair, down his spine, over the tightness in his shoulders that had been there since he got off the plane.
It didn't go away.
He reached for the body wash and paused his fingers brushing the one Joong had used earlier. The same cap twisted off easily, but he hesitated anyway. Then grabbed a different bottle.
Not the same. He didn't need to be weird about it.
But his mind was already drifting.
Back to Joong's voice through the glass. Low. Annoyed. Familiar in a way it shouldn't have been anymore.
He shouldn't still remember the way Joong looked when he was drying his hair. The way his shoulders tensed when he was annoyed. How his eyes narrowed when he didn't understand something but didn't want to ask.
None of it should still live in his head and yet, it did.
Dunk scrubbed harder than necessary, like it might help.
It didn't.
The worst part was the silence that followed. Not the kind that filled the space but the one that lingered in his chest.
He hadn't meant to follow Joong into the bathroom. Not really. But when he heard the water running and realized it had been a while, he figured maybe he'd just brush his teeth. Say something dumb. Keep it casual.
But Joong had stepped out, wet and flushed, towel slung low, hair dripping into his eyes and Dunk had frozen. Not because it was shocking. He'd seen Joong like that a hundred times before.
But because this time, it felt like something he wasn't allowed to miss.
And he did. Miss it.
More than he wanted to admit.
Dunk leaned forward, resting his forehead against the cool tile as the water kept falling around him.
They weren't supposed to be here.
Not in this villa. Not in this moment. Not standing shoulder to shoulder in a kitchen like it didn't hurt. Not brushing fingers in a fogged up bathroom like they hadn't broken each other already.
But here they were.
Pretending.
And for a second too long, Dunk wanted it to be real again.
He turned off the water before that thought could go anywhere else.
....
The envelope was on the kitchen counter when Joong came back in from the patio, towel still around his neck from the heat. Dunk stood beside it, staring like it had said something offensive.
"It's a task," he muttered when Joong raised a brow.
Joong walked over, took the envelope, and pulled out the card inside. The same cream paper. Same handwriting.
"Today's task: recreate a memory. Choose one. Any shared moment from your past. Retell it. Rebuild it. Relive it."
He read it twice, then handed it back.
"I'm not doing the beach again," he said.
Dunk snorted. "Wasn't gonna suggest it."
The silence between them stretched. Joong leaned against the counter. Dunk scratched at the back of his neck. The fan hummed somewhere above them like it was trying to fill in for the lack of conversation.
Then Joong mumbled, "The cards are in my drawer.."
Dunk blinked. "You kept them?"
Joong didn't answer, just walked toward the cabinet under the TV. He crouched, pulled the drawer open, and lifted out a red, battered deck of cards corners bent, rubber band loose around it.
"I thought you threw those away," Dunk said quietly, crossing the room.
Joong shrugged. "Couldn't." Dunk couldn't believe it. Joong has brought the cards with himself, but why?
They sat on the floor. The coffee table was too low to play on comfortably, but they didn't move it. It felt... right. Like before. Sort of.
Joong untangled the band and started shuffling. The cards made a familiar sound. Dunk watched his hands.
"You remember the rules?" he asked.
"Some."
"I think if you draw a heart, you're supposed to—"
"Say something good," Joong finished.
Dunk glanced at him. "Right."
They started.
First round. Safe draws. A six. A three. A queen — which meant switching seats, apparently, though neither remembered why that was funny before.
Second round.
Joong drew a heart. A ten.
He hesitated. Looked at the card like it might say something else if he waited long enough.
"You have to say something," Dunk reminded him.
Joong exhaled. "You used to hum when you were thinking. Especially over recipes."
Dunk blinked. "That's random."
"You'd stand in the kitchen, staring at the spices like they offended you. Humming."
Dunk smiled small, surprised. "I forgot about that."
Joong shrugged. "I didn't."
They kept going.
More hearts. Dunk said Joong always smelled good, even when he claimed he hadn't showered. Joong raised a brow but didn't comment. Dunk flushed and pulled the next card.
A joker.
They both paused.
"You get to ask something," Joong said.
"Don't remember what kind of question."
"Any kind. But you have to answer too."
Dunk stared at the card.
Then asked, "What was the best round we ever played?"
Joong blinked. That wasn't the kind of question he expected.
He leaned back slightly, letting the question settle.
"There was that storm in Chiang Mai," Joong said. "We were stuck inside all day. No power."
"You kept lighting candles, even though we only had like four," Dunk said.
Joong smiled faintly. "And you kept cheating."
"I did not."
"You stacked the deck."
Dunk grinned. "Okay. Maybe a little."
They both laughed quiet, barely there laughter, but it felt too loud in the stillness of the villa.
Another round.
More cards. More fragments of old rules coming back. Every time a king was drawn, they had to make a new rule. So Dunk made one: "Loser makes dinner." Joong made one: "If you roll your eyes, you draw two extra cards."
It was clumsy. Dumb and strange.
But it was theirs.
Somewhere along the way, they stopped pretending not to remember.
They drew cards. They told small truths. They didn't say anything about what went wrong, or how long it had been, or why Joong still had the deck. But it was all there in how they looked at each other when their fingers brushed reaching for the same card, in how their voices softened mid-sentence, like remembering something without meaning to.
By the time the sun began to fade through the windows, the deck was nearly done.
Dunk held a card, about to place it down, but paused. "This was the first thing we ever made together."
Joong looked up.
"It was stupid, and confusing, and impossible to explain to anyone else," Dunk said.
Joong nodded. "But it worked."
Dunk didn't reply.
They didn't finish the game.
Just sat in the fading light, surrounded by cards, by too many memories and not enough space to hold them all. And eventually the day ended.
//—//
The morning passed slowly, as if the air itself had grown heavier with each passing day.
Joong was the first to wake, as usual. Not because he slept less, but because he never quite rested. He moved through the villa with careful steps, still half in a dream he couldn't remember. In the kitchen, he brewed tea lemongrass again and opened the windows to let the morning in.
Outside, the leaves swayed lazily. A lizard scurried across the railing. The world moved, but inside him, everything stayed still.
He sat cross-legged on the kitchen bench, sipping in silence.
A while later, Dunk appeared, barefoot and yawning, dragging one hand through his damp hair from a quick rinse. He looked at Joong briefly, then at the teacup.
"You made the good stuff," he mumbled.
"I always do," Joong replied without looking up.
Dunk poured himself a cup and leaned against the counter. He didn't sit. Just stood there, watching the breeze tug at the curtains.
After a few long minutes, he said, "You wanna go out today?"
Joong blinked, surprised. "Out?"
"Yeah. Like... outside." Dunk paused. "You're always reading the same book, and I've already cleaned the bathroom twice. I think we're dying of boredom."
Joong fought a smile. "And here I thought you liked staying away from me."
Dunk shrugged. "I can stay away from you in public, too."
Joong's lips twitched. "Fine. Let's go."
⸻
They left late morning, after sunscreen, sunglasses, and the usual quiet bickering over who locked the door last. Joong wore a loose white linen shirt, sunglasses perched in his hair, while Dunk chose a blue tee and a cap turned backwards. Casual, but the kind of casual that looked curated. Like two strangers trying not to look like they were on a honeymoon.
They walked slowly, the streets of Bali alive with warmth and color.
Locals waved. Children giggled as they passed. At one point, a vendor tried to sell Joong a flower crown, and Joong actually considered it until Dunk said, "You're not the main character here."
Joong narrowed his eyes. "I always am."
⸻
The street market was packed rows of stalls lined with spices, sarongs, handmade bracelets, carved soaps. Dunk tried a fried banana and nearly spit it out.
"What the hell—"
Joong smirked. "Serves you right. You made me try those pickled sea grapes remember?"
"They were traditional!"
"They were salty slime."
They moved through the crowd like a quiet current not quite touching, but not drifting apart. Joong paused once to admire a canvas painting of the beach, and the artist smiled, offering to paint his portrait.
"He'd break your brush," Dunk joked behind him.
The artist laughed. Joong didn't. Instead, he glanced back at Dunk, who wasn't even looking just scrolling absently through his phone.
Joong looked away first.
⸻
They found it by accident.
A narrow alley, shaded by vines, with a wooden sign barely hanging onto its hook: "The Painted Memory – Create Your Own Souvenir"
Inside, it smelled of old wood and sun dried fabric. An elderly Balinese man greeted them with a soft smile and two blank white T-shirts.
Joong raised an eyebrow. "Are we really doing this?"
Dunk had already sat down. "Afraid I'll out paint you?"
Joong rolled his eyes and took the seat across from him.
The room was warm, with a fan spinning lazily above. Their table was low, the shirts stretched flat before them, paints and markers scattered in trays. Outside, birds chirped. Inside, silence settled between them the comfortable, focused kind.
"No copying," Joong said.
"Who'd want to copy yours?" Dunk replied, dipping his brush in blue.
They began to paint.
⸻
It started quietly. Dunk hummed something under his breath, an old song Joong recognized but didn't name. Joong's brush moved slowly, as if unsure where to start. But then, the shape came to him.
A mango tree.
Not detailed. Just the rough shape of its branches, curving like they did that day in Phuket. He remembered it clearly the ridiculous sight of Dunk stuck between the lower branches, kicking his feet, yelling that the fruit wasn't even ripe.
He hadn't meant to draw that. But the tree formed anyway.
Across the table, Dunk sketched something round, a jellyfish. Joong squinted.
"Really?"
Dunk grinned. "It's abstract."
"That's generous."
Next to the jellyfish, Dunk painted stars. Tiny, uneven ones. He wasn't good at it, but his hand was steady.
Joong didn't know what they meant. He didn't ask.
⸻
They didn't talk much. But they didn't need to.
At one point, Dunk looked up and found Joong already watching him. Their eyes met for a second too long.
Joong's gaze flickered back down. He reached for yellow paint he didn't need.
Dunk smiled, small and soft. A little surprised by himself.
His shirt now looked ridiculous a jellyfish under a starry sky. It didn't make sense. But then again, neither did his heart.
⸻
The shopkeeper wrapped their shirts in soft brown paper and handed each a cloth bag. They didn't show each other the end product.
Outside, the sun had begun to sink, not yet golden hour, but inching toward it. The streets were less crowded now. A soft wind picked up.
As they walked back, their bags brushed together.
Neither pulled away. Joong offered Dunk a bottle of cold water from a stall.
Dunk took it without a word, opened it, and passed it back. Joong drank. Their fingers touched.
⸻
Back at the villa, they didn't talk about what they'd made. The shirts stayed folded inside their bags, set gently on opposite ends of the couch like fragile secrets.
Joong sat down with a sigh. Dunk disappeared into the bedroom, mumbling something about changing. When he returned, Joong was still seated eyes closed, head tilted back slightly, the last rays of light warming his skin.
Dunk didn't say anything.
He just looked.
At Joong. At the faint smile that wasn't quite there.
And then, without planning to, he sat down on the couch too.
Their bags stayed untouched.
But something else... wasn't.
Dunk sat down carefully, slow enough not to startle him. Joong didn't open his eyes.
The villa was dim now not quite dark, not quite lit.. the orange hue of a nearby lamp casting long shadows across the floor. Outside, the sound of crickets layered over the faint rustle of the breeze moving through the trees. Inside, it was just the soft creak of the couch beneath Dunk's weight.
He sat with his hands on his knees, unsure of what to do.
Joong looked peaceful, almost asleep head tilted slightly to one side, lashes resting against his skin, lips relaxed. But Dunk knew him well enough to tell the difference.
He wasn't asleep.
He was resting.
And yet... he hadn't moved away.
Dunk glanced at the shirt bag still resting on the edge of the coffee table. His own was tucked away in the bedroom now, folded tight like the feelings he refused to touch.
He shifted slightly, letting his shoulder rest a little closer to Joong's not quite touching, just hovering. A silent offering.
Joong's eyes stayed closed.
Neither of them spoke.
Minutes passed like that weightless, then heavy, then weightless again. A quiet rhythm.
Dunk lowered his gaze to the floor, then to Joong's hand resting on his lap, fingers relaxed. He used to hold that hand every night. In movie theaters. On sidewalks. Under tables in restaurants.
He swallowed.
This wasn't the time to remember.
But that was the thing about love. It didn't care about timing.
Just then, Joong exhaled a little too steady to be sleep and shifted his weight, his arm brushing Dunk's gently before settling again.
Dunk didn't move away.
They stayed like that.
Not talking.
Not fighting.
Not pretending.
Just being there.
Eventually, Joong opened his eyes.
Not all at once just a slow, barely there blink like he'd finally allowed himself to return to the room. He didn't look at Dunk right away. Just stared ahead, past the paper bag, past the lamp, past everything.
Dunk stayed still.
Joong didn't say a word. He only stood, quiet as ever, and walked to the bedroom door. Then he paused.
He looked over his shoulder.
Dunk understood.
He followed.
⸻
The bedroom smelled faintly of clean linen and sea breeze. One large bed, two pillows. Nothing else but the hum of the ceiling fan and the muffled sounds of the night outside.
Joong brushed his teeth at the sink, his reflection unfocused in the mirror. Just the sound of water, the rustle of fabric and a silence that felt more tired than tense.
By the time they both slipped under the blanket, the air between them was still.
Dunk faced the window.
Joong stayed on his back, staring up at the ceiling.
Neither of them moved.
They lay like that for what felt like hours, breaths slowly syncing, not quite asleep, not quite awake. The silence wasn't uncomfortable anymore. It was just... theirs.
Dunk blinked at the curtain blowing gently inward. The moonlight painted soft patterns on the sheets. His thoughts blurred between now and then. Joong's eyes on him, the quiet atmosphere and shared paintwater at the art shop, Joong's voice calling his name like it didn't hurt anymore.
He didn't know when he drifted off.
But he remembered the warmth. The warmth of Joong still lying there when he woke.
Joong woke slowly.
The kind of slow that came after too many thoughts the night before. The kind of slow that made the world feel quiet and unreal, like everything was holding its breath.
He blinked against the morning light spilling through the curtains, adjusting to the soft haze of the room.
And then he felt it.
Warmth and pressure. The weight of an arm slung around his waist.
He froze.
Dunk's forehead rested against the back of his shoulder. His breath was steady. Deep and still asleep.
Joong's pulse jumped.
Some time in the night, sometime between the silence and the shifting they'd moved closer. He could feel Dunk's knee brushing his. Dunk's hand curled gently against his ribs. There was no space between them.
Joong didn't move.
Not right away.
His eyes flicked to the ceiling. He could feel every breath, every heartbeat. The way Dunk's chest rose and fell against his back. The familiarity of it was unbearable.
And worse .. it didn't feel foreign.
It felt like home.
He exhaled slowly, barely.
His fingers twitched like he was about to shift away, but then Dunk stirred. Just slightly. His arm tightened around Joong's waist, pulling him closer in his sleep not hard, not conscious, just a reflex.
Joong closed his eyes.
Just for a second.
Let himself stay there. Not as a husband. Not as an ex. Just as someone who missed this too much to let it go.
He stayed for three breaths. Four. Five.
Then gently, carefully, he moved.
Dunk didn't wake. His arm slipped down to the mattress as Joong eased out of bed, barefoot on cool tile, crossing to the bathroom without a sound.
When the door closed behind him, he let himself breathe again.
And Dunk?
He blinked awake a few seconds later
and stared at the space where Joong had been.
The bathroom filled with steam almost immediately, the warm water hitting Joong's skin in rhythmic taps. He let his head fall forward against the cool tile, eyes closed, hands braced against the wall. The water traced lines down his neck, over his back, washing away the night, but not the memory.
Dunk's breath on his shoulder.
His hand at Joong's waist. The way his body fit, without trying.
Joong stayed under the spray longer than necessary. As if heat could burn off the way his chest tightened when he remembered how it felt to be held again.
Not because of an arrangement.
Not for the cameras.
Just... because.
He hated how badly he wanted it to mean something.
And he hated even more how it probably didn't.
⸻
Dunk still hadn't moved.
He lay on his back, one arm folded behind his head, staring at the ceiling like it held answers he'd missed.
The room was too quiet now. Joong's absence was loud in its own way.
He turned his head slightly.
The shirt bag sat on the table where he had left it the night before and next to it was Joong's.
After a moment, Dunk sat up, walked over, and pulled the shirt free simple cotton, soft, slightly wrinkled from being folded all night.
The design was nothing fancy. Not overly detailed, not symmetrical. Just a trunk, a few curved branches, green leaves clustered unevenly. One side bore small, rounded mangoes in soft orange. Dunk traced his fingers lightly over the painted fruit.
He didn't know what hurt more .. the thought that Joong still remembered,
or the possibility that he never forgot.
The midday sun wasn't harsh yet, but the sand was already warm beneath Joong's feet. He walked slowly along the shoreline, a towel slung over one shoulder, sunglasses hiding his eyes. It wasn't crowded. Just a few families, some tourists, and the soft rush of waves pulling in and out of the shore.
He hadn't planned to come here.
But the villa felt tight this morning. Every room heavy. Every breath too aware of the space Dunk had left behind when he'd gone for his jog.
So Joong walked. Let the salt air sting his lungs and the wind tug at the ends of his damp hair. He sat near the edge of the water, stretching his legs out in front of him, and watched the ocean.
And then someone approached.
"Excuse me... Are you—"
Joong looked up.
A young couple stood a few feet away, clearly tourists. They looked a little unsure, like they didn't want to intrude but couldn't quite walk away either.
"Are you Joong Archen?" the girl asked, voice soft but eager.
Joong gave a small nod. "Yeah."
She beamed. "I thought it was you! I've followed your campaigns since that one with the vintage suits.. you looked amazing!"
He smiled politely. "Thank you. That's kind of you."
"Would it be okay to get a photo? I mean, just one, if that's alright..."
Joong hesitated only a second, then stood. "Sure."
He stood between them, the sand shifting beneath his feet. The girl held her phone up, trying to get a good angle. Her boyfriend gave a quick thumbs-up before whispering something behind his hand not quite enough.
"Didn't he get married recently? I saw a post... right?"
The girl gasped a little. "Oh my god, yeah. To that architect. What's his name...?" she screamed then.
Joong didn't say anything.
He just smiled for the picture.
From a few meters down the beach, Dunk had just arrived, towel in hand, water bottle tucked under his arm when he saw them. Saw the way Joong stood patiently between strangers, how his smile didn't quite reach his eyes. Heard them talking about marriage.
Dunk stopped walking.
He didn't know if Joong had seen him.
He didn't move.
The couple finally thanked Joong, still chatting excitedly as they walked away. Joong exhaled slowly, looked back at the water and then noticed Dunk standing there, unmoving.
Their eyes met.. briefly.
Joong looked away first. Dunk walked toward him anyway.
Neither of them said it out loud. But they were both thinking the same thing.
This was never meant to be public.
Not like this.
Joong was still standing, arms crossed loosely over his chest, eyes on the horizon. He didn't turn when Dunk stopped beside him.
"You okay?" Dunk asked, his voice low, barely above the waves.
Joong gave a quiet hum. "Yeah. Happens sometimes."
Dunk looked at him. The tension in his shoulders. The way his mouth was drawn tight even though he wasn't frowning. He was wearing the same smile from the photo polite, distant.
"They brought up the marriage," Dunk said.
Joong finally turned his head, eyebrows lifting slightly. "You heard?"
Dunk nodded. "Couldn't really miss it."
There was a beat of silence.
Then Joong said, flatly, "You'd think the ocean would be enough distraction. But no. Gotta talk about the fake husband too."
Dunk winced. "I didn't mean—"
"I know what you meant."
Another silence.
The waves kept rolling in. Like breathing.
Dunk shifted his weight, toes curling into the sand. "It's not easy," he said, after a moment.
Joong gave a short, humorless laugh. "That's an understatement."
"I just mean..." Dunk trailed off. "You've always had people watching you."
"Not like this."
Joong's voice was soft, but sharp. He didn't look at Dunk now. Just kept his eyes fixed ahead.
"They're not watching me. They're watching us," he added.
And that was what stung. What neither of them wanted to say out loud until now.
Dunk's throat tightened. "I didn't think it would feel this fake."
Joong glanced at him again, and this time his voice was quieter.
"Did you want it to feel real?"
Dunk didn't answer.
Not because he didn't know, but because he did.
And it scared the hell out of him.
Joong didn't push. He just turned away again, arms still folded, letting the silence settle between them once more.
This time, Dunk didn't break it.
They stood side by side, neither speaking, both wondering how long they could pretend the tide wasn't already pulling them under.
The wind picked up, carrying the scent of salt and sunscreen, tousling Dunk's hair into his eyes.
He blew it out with a quiet puff of breath, brushing it back lazily and when Joong turned slightly to glance at him again, he caught the tail end of it. Dunk, squinting into the sun like a lost puppy. His shirt halfway untucked. Sand all over his calves.
"You look like a tourist who got ditched by his tour group," Joong said dryly.
Dunk blinked. "I'm literally married to a local celebrity. Pretty sure I'm the tour group."
Joong huffed not a laugh, but close enough. The edge in his voice had dulled.
Dunk looked at him sidelong. "Didn't think you'd get recognized here."
"I didn't either," Joong admitted, softer now. "Guess I forgot I'm not invisible."
"Wish I was," Dunk muttered. "You ever hear the way people whisper when they think you can't?"
Joong tilted his head. "Yeah," he said, eyes glinting faintly behind his sunglasses. "That's why I wear these."
Dunk squinted at him, mock serious. "You mean... sunglasses aren't just for the aesthetic?"
Joong allowed himself a small smile. "Well. That too."
They fell into step without thinking, sand shifting beneath their feet as they walked slowly down the beach. The sun hung lower now, turning the waves amber. No one bothered them again. No whispers. No cameras.
Just the sound of the ocean. And their steps.
After a while, Dunk spoke again, voice lower.
"You looked good, by the way. In that photo."
Joong didn't look at him, but the corner of his mouth lifted.
"You always say that after someone else says it first."
Dunk snorted. "I do not."
"You kinda do."
Another beat of quiet.
Then Dunk bumped Joong's arm lightly with his elbow. "You looked good, okay? Even if it's all fake."
Joong didn't answer. But he didn't pull away either.
They walked until the sun dipped a little further, and Joong finally said, "We should head back."
Dunk nodded. "Yeah."
Neither of them turned around right away. Because for a second, it didn't feel fake at all.
They didn't say much on the walk back.
The sand was hot now, warm by tbe sun, and the breeze had picked up just enough to ruffle Joong's damp hair. Dunk trailed a few steps behind him at first, hands tucked into the pockets of his shorts, gaze flicking toward the waves like he might memorize them.
Joong didn't seem in a rush. He walked like he wasn't sure what to do with the rest of the day.
The villa came into view. Joong stepped onto the wooden deck first and opened the sliding door, holding it for Dunk without a word.
"Thanks," Dunk said, stepping inside.
Joong didn't reply, just toed off his sandals and headed straight to the kitchen to pour himself a glass of cold water. Dunk lingered by the door, peeling off his T-shirt slowly, the fabric sticking slightly to his skin from sweat and salt. He heard the clink of ice, the hum of the fridge door, the soft tap of Joong setting his glass down.
"You wanna shower first?" Joong asked without turning around.
"No," Dunk said, rubbing the back of his neck. "Thought I'd go cool off in the pool."
Joong turned a little at that, one eyebrow lifting. "Now?"
Dunk shrugged. "Yeah. Might as well."
There was a beat of silence.
Then Joong put his glass down. "I'll come with you."
Dunk didn't respond, just nodded once and headed down the hallway toward the back patio.
Joong followed. There was nothing else to do, anyway.
The pool shimmered under the late morning sun, clear and still until Dunk broke the surface with a clean dive.
Joong walked out just in time to see him cut through the water like it was instinct, arms slicing forward, one stroke after the other. Dunk swam all the way to the edge and pulled himself up with both arms, water cascading down his back.
Joong raised an eyebrow. "Showing off?"
Dunk turned, resting his forearms on the edge. "Nah. Just cooling off."
Joong tossed his towel onto the lounger. "Right."
He stepped to the edge and looked down at the water. "Race me?"
Dunk blinked. "Seriously?"
Joong didn't answer. He just smirked and dove in.
The splash hit Dunk's face, and he wiped it off with a laugh. "You're insane."
"Too late to back out," Joong called over his shoulder, already gliding toward the other end.
Dunk pushed off the wall and swam after him, the water between them bursting into ripples. For a moment, it felt like muscle memory. Like high school summers. Like they weren't faking anything at all.
Joong reached the far end first and hit the wall with one hand, turning to float on his back.
"Winner," he said, breathless.
Dunk emerged a second later, shaking the water from his hair. "You had a head start."
Joong just grinned. "Excuses."
"Oh, we're doing that?" Dunk said, laughing.
They went again and again. Each time more chaotic than the last, feet kicking up sprays, laughter getting louder. Neither of them cared who actually won anymore. The pool echoed with the splash of limbs and the sound of breathless taunts.
Eventually, Joong clung to the edge, panting. "I'm done. You win."
Dunk hovered a few strokes away, eyes narrowed. "You sure?"
Joong nodded, eyes closed, lips slightly parted.
Dunk floated closer, still catching his breath. "You're fast."
Joong cracked an eye open, just enough to look at him. "You still cheat."
Dunk smiled, tilting his head. "You always say that when I beat you."
"You didn't beat me," Joong said, not even trying to hide the smile tugging at his mouth. "I gave up."
Dunk was quiet for a moment. Then he moved closer and gently nudged Joong's shoulder with his own. "Same thing."
They stayed like that chest deep in water, skin warm from the sun, too close, too familiar.
Joong didn't move away.
And Dunk didn't say anything else.
The moment didn't need it.
Joong turned his head slightly, just enough to meet Dunk's gaze. And Dunk didn't look away.
Their eyes locked, not with fire or challenge, but something quieter. Something familiar and dangerous. Dunk's chest rose and fell, slower now, like his breath had caught halfway through and never quite recovered.
Joong's hand moved again, gentle and deliberate, resting just under the water at Dunk's waist. His fingers splayed there, barely pressing in.
Dunk blinked once, and without thinking without hesitation .. he reached up and rested both hands on Joong's shoulders. It wasn't rough or sudden. It was easy, very natural. A habit buried under all the anger and silence.
Joong stiffened for just a second, then let out a breath, soft and quiet.
They stayed like that, barely a breath apart.
Dunk's thumbs moved slightly, brushing against Joong's collarbones, feeling the warmth of him beneath the water. Joong didn't speak. He couldn't.
Not with Dunk looking at him like that, eyes dark, unreadable, but not cold.
Their foreheads didn't touch, but they were close enough to feel the heat radiating off each other. Dunk tilted his head, a fraction and Joong did the same. Not leaning in. Not pulling back. Just... hovering.
The silence between them stretched, crackling with something unnamed. Their grip didn't tighten, but neither let go.
"I didn't think we'd ever do this again," Joong said, voice low, breath brushing against Dunk's cheek.
Dunk swallowed. His fingers flexed slightly against Joong's skin. "It doesn't feel real."
Joong let out a short laugh breathless, bitter, fond all at once. "It doesn't feel fake, either."
The words settled between them, heavy and true. Dunk's hands stayed where they were, warm and steady, like maybe he'd forgotten he could let go.
Their eyes met again.
Longer this time.
And Joong's gaze dropped just for a second to Dunk's mouth. Wet from the water, parted ever so slightly.
Dunk didn't move. But his thumbs brushed gently along Joong's shoulders again, grounding them both.
He missed this. The weight of Joong's gaze. The way it always felt like Joong was seeing more than he should. The way they never needed to speak when they were close like this.
Joong exhaled slowly, closing his eyes for a heartbeat before opening them again. "You always did that."
Dunk raised an eyebrow. "What?"
"Put your hands here." Joong tapped his own shoulder lightly. "Like this."
Dunk looked down at his hands, still resting there. His brows furrowed for a moment, like he hadn't realized.
"Oh," he murmured. "Guess I did."
The water lapped gently around them. Birds called in the distance. Neither of them moved.
"I missed it," Joong admitted.
Dunk's hands tightened slightly.
And then the silence returned but this time, it wasn't sharp. It didn't ache. It held something softer. Something that lingered between them like sunlight on skin, quiet and present.
Joong didn't step back. Dunk didn't drop his hands.
Something inside them gave out first.
Joong's hand was still at Dunk's waist, fingers barely curling. He stared into those eyes, the ones he thought he'd never be able to look at again this way, not without flinching, not without wanting. His throat worked around the lump rising there, his jaw tense like he was trying to keep something in.
But it slipped anyway.
"I can't..." Joong whispered, voice barely above the sound of the water brushing against their skin. "I can't hold back anymore."
The silence that followed was heavier than any wave.
Dunk didn't speak, didn't flinch and neither pull away. He just stood there, eyes wide and wet, lips parting ever so slightly like he'd been waiting for those words without realizing it.
Joong moved first.
Not rushed.
Not desperate. Just... finally letting himself go.
Their foreheads touched first, breath meeting breath, noses brushing in a way that made the air leave both their lungs. Dunk's eyes fluttered shut the second Joong's lips ghosted over his barely a kiss, just the memory of one.
But then Dunk leaned in.
It was slow.
And it hurt.
Their mouths met like a returning not greedy, but hungry with loss. With time. With ache. Dunk's fingers slipped from Joong's shoulders to his neck, pulling him closer without thinking. Joong's hand gripped tighter at Dunk's waist, anchoring himself to something that once felt like home.
The kiss deepened like a secret unspoken too long. They didn't need to rush, they couldn't. Every inch closed was a scar peeling open, every press of lips a memory resurfaced.
And then Joong felt it.
Dunk trembled.
Not from cold but from feelings. Joong pulled back just an inch, just enough to see. And there it was, a single tear slipping quietly down on Dunk's cheek, caught in the glow of the morning sun and the ripples of the pool.
Joong's chest cracked wider than he thought it could.
"I missed you," Dunk whispered, voice thick, shaky. "I didn't know how much until now."
Joong didn't say anything. He just cupped Dunk's face gently, brushed the tear away with his thumb, and leaned in again. Slower this time. Deeper.
More broken.
Tears mixed between them. One from Dunk. One from Joong.
Neither of them asked who started crying first.
It didn't matter.
They kissed again, and again, and again like a rhythm they hadn't forgotten, like an apology they couldn't say out loud.
Because nothing about this was safe.
But it was real.
And this time for the first time since it ended, neither of them stopped.
They didn't speak when they climbed out of the pool.
Joong's fingers lingered on Dunk's wrist like he was afraid to let go, his other hand brushing away the last trail of tears from Dunk's face. Their clothes clung to their skin, soaked and heavy, and still they didn't notice the chill. Not when every glance felt warmer than sunlight.
Dunk looked at Joong like he wasn't sure if he was dreaming.
Joong looked at Dunk like he never wanted to wake up.
It wasn't hurried, the way they walked. It was just... close. Their steps matched, bare feet silent against the wooden deck. Dunk's hand brushed Joong's more than once. The third time, Joong's pinky curled around his. Neither of them said a word.
Inside the villa, it was quiet. The air conditioning hummed softly. Their breaths were louder.
Dunk's back hit the wall near the bedroom door not rough, not with urgency, just because Joong had turned to look at him again and couldn't help reaching. His hand came up to Dunk's cheek and Dunk leaned into it like he'd been waiting years.
Joong kissed him again.
Softer this time. Slower.
Like they had all the time in the world now. Like they didn't want to waste a single second.
Dunk's fingers gripped the hem of Joong's damp shirt, not pulling just grounding himself. Joong's forehead pressed against his, breath warm against Dunk's lips.
"I thought—" Joong started, but the words faltered.
Dunk shook his head, a small motion, eyes closing. "Don't. Not now."
So Joong didn't speak. He just kissed him again.
And again.
And again.
They barely made it to the bed.
Joong walked backward, fingers interlaced with Dunk's, guiding them slowly. When the back of his knees hit the mattress, he sat. Dunk stood between his legs, looking down at him like he wasn't sure if he could believe this was real.
Joong looked up, eyes heavy, chest rising slowly beneath his soaked shirt. His hands settled at Dunk's waist again, thumbs brushing against warm skin under wet fabric.
"Can I...?" he asked, voice quiet, already breathless.
Dunk nodded before Joong could finish. "Please."
Joong leaned in, mouth brushing against Dunk's again slow and open, a sigh passing from one into the other. Dunk's knees weakened. He sank down, straddling Joong's lap without thinking, like his body remembered this even when his heart had tried to forget.
Their lips never stopped.
The kisses were deeper now not urgent, but full. Like they had to fill in every gap. Like they had to apologize for every day spent apart with nothing but silence between them.
Joong's hands were at Dunk's back now, slipping under his shirt, fingers trailing along his spine. Dunk shivered, not from cold but from feeling.
"I missed this," Joong breathed between kisses. "I missed you."
Dunk's lips ghosted over Joong's cheek, then his jaw, then back to his mouth. "Then don't let me go."
Joong held him tighter.
They stayed like that for a long time tangled, soaked, mouths moving slow and full of want. The kind of want that isn't about desire, but about longing. About grief, almost. Because they could've had this all along and didn't.
Joong kissed Dunk like he was making up for every time he said "later." Dunk kissed Joong like he was trying to erase the night he cried alone on their bed.
Neither of them said anything more.
Because they didn't need to.
Their shirts were still damp when they hit the bed, but it didn't matter anymore.
What mattered was the way Joong kissed Dunk like he had time to taste every part of him, like he'd been starving for this and didn't even realize it until now. His mouth moved slow, deliberate, pausing at Dunk's jaw, then his throat, then the soft spot beneath his ear that still made Dunk shiver even now.
Dunk's legs were around Joong's waist, loose and heavy, and Joong pressed against him with the weight of someone who didn't want to hurt him, but couldn't stop needing him, either.
"You're still wet," Joong whispered, brushing Dunk's hair back from his temple. His hand slid to Dunk's chest, splayed over his heart. It was racing. Joong swallowed. "So am I."
Dunk smiled, breathless. "You wanna shower?"
Joong leaned in, their noses brushing. "No."
He kissed him again slow, deep, tongue parting Dunk's lips with reverence and ache. Dunk moaned softly, fingers sliding under Joong's shirt, pushing it up, revealing inch by inch the chest he hadn't touched in what felt like forever. His hands trembled.
Joong sat back just enough to pull his shirt over his head. He helped Dunk out of his, too. Their skin met warm and still a little slick and they both gasped like they'd been burned.
No one moved for a second.
Joong looked down at Dunk like he was seeing him for the first time again.
Dunk looked up like he couldn't believe Joong was really here.
Joong dipped his head. "Let me touch you."
"You already are," Dunk whispered.
"No," Joong breathed. "I mean... like before. Like always."
And Dunk nodded. Just once but it was enough.
Joong's hands moved down, slow and steady, thumbs brushing Dunk's ribs, then his hips. He kissed down his chest open-mouthed, reverent and Dunk arched into him, whispering his name like a prayer.
"Joong..."
He took his time undressing him fully, sliding down Dunk's waistband with aching slowness, kissing the skin he uncovered, until Dunk was bare beneath him. Vulnerable. Soft.
Joong sat up for a moment and undressed himself, then knelt between Dunk's legs, eyes dark but patient.
He leaned down, pressing a kiss to Dunk's thigh. Then another. Then higher.
"Joong—" Dunk started, but it caught in his throat when Joong took him into his mouth warm, wet, deep. No teasing. Just love.
Dunk gasped, hands flying to Joong's hair. "Fuck."
Joong hummed softly, eyes fluttering closed as he took more, deeper, letting Dunk's hips stutter up into his mouth until his name was a plea. But Joong didn't stop. He didn't rush. He wanted all of him. He missed all of him.
When he finally pulled back, Dunk was panting, dazed, lips parted in disbelief.
Joong crawled back up, kissed him again, letting him taste himself, and Dunk whined softly into his mouth, wrapping his arms around Joong's shoulders like he was scared he might disappear again.
"Please," Dunk whispered, pressing their foreheads together. "I need you."
Joong swallowed thickly. "Turn over."
Dunk nodded. Did exactly that.
Joong leaned down over his back, kissing the nape of his neck, the slope of his spine. "Tell me if you want me to stop."
"I won't."
Joong smiled.
Dunk's breath hitched the moment Joong leaned in, chest pressed gently to his back, one hand braced beside his head, the other holding his waist like something delicate. He didn't rush, didn't push.
He kissed Dunk's shoulder instead.
"I missed you," Joong whispered, the words like a confession, like something sacred.
Dunk's eyes fluttered closed. "Don't say things like that."
Joong kissed his spine. "Why not?"
"Because I'll believe you."
Joong smiled against his skin. "Then believe me."
And then finally he moved. Slow, careful. He pushed in with a groan, deep and shaking, as Dunk gasped and curled his fingers into the sheets. They didn't speak at first. Just breathed.
The room was filled with soft noises, the rustle of sheets, the quiet slap of skin, the stutter of breath when Joong moved just a little deeper.
"You feel the same," Joong whispered.
Dunk turned his head slightly, cheek against the pillow. "So do you."
Joong dropped kisses along Dunk's shoulder, murmuring between thrusts.
"I thought about you every day."
Dunk swallowed. "But you left."
"I thought it would help."
"It didn't."
Joong's rhythm faltered just for a moment and then he kissed the back of Dunk's neck, slower this time, pushing in deep, holding still inside him.
"I know," he whispered. "I know, baby."
The endearment slipped out before he could stop it.
Dunk exhaled shakily. "Say it again."
Joong kissed his temple. "Baby."
Dunk reached behind, blindly finding Joong's hand. He pulled it forward, pressing it to his chest right over his heart. Joong held him like that, fucked him like that. Deep and steady.
"I missed your voice," Dunk whispered.
"I missed everything."
They stayed like that for minutes tangled, quiet, every thrust saying more than words ever could.
Eventually, Joong slowed to a stop, pulling out gently. He turned Dunk over, cupping his cheek.
Dunk looked up at him with eyes that were glassy and wide, lips parted. "What now?"
Joong's voice cracked. "Let me kiss you."
Dunk reached for him. "You don't need to ask."
This time, Dunk pulled Joong closer wrapped his arms around his neck and kissed him like he'd never stopped. Like he was trying to memorize the shape of his mouth all over again.
"I wanna..." Dunk breathed, flipping them over so he was on top now, straddling Joong's hips, "...make you feel like you're mine."
Joong's breath caught in his throat. "I've always been yours."
Dunk kissed him. Harder this time.
Their rhythm changed slower again, deeper, but now it was Dunk in control, rocking down with a quiet whimper, hands braced on Joong's chest. His head dropped forward as their foreheads touched.
"I hated waking up without you."
Joong's hands gripped his waist. "Then don't."
Dunk choked out a soft laugh, but it cracked into something more painful. His eyes were damp again.
Joong reached up and thumbed away a tear. "You always cry when you come."
"I'm not—"
"You will."
And he did. With Joong's name on his lips and Joong's hands steady at his back, holding him together through every trembling second.
After, they didn't speak for a long time.
Just soft breathing. Warm skin. Fingers tracing ribs and collarbones and the side of a jaw like it was the most precious thing in the world.
Until finally
"I still love you," Dunk whispered.
Joong's arms tightened around him.
"I love you too," he said.
"I'm scared."
"I am too."
But they didn't pull away.
Not this time.
//—//
The morning light was soft when Dunk blinked awake, the weight of Joong's arm still slung across his waist. They slept the whole day until it was the next morning. They didn't changed clothes even tho they were wet from the pool. Instead Dunk lays there for a moment, listening to the slow rhythm of Joong's breathing, not quite ready to move. The memory of last day came back.
Joong moved behind him, shifting closer instead of away, his lips brushing Dunk's shoulder in the smallest, most accidental kiss.
"You awake?" Dunk asked quietly.
A low hum against his skin. "Mm."
They didn't speak for a few seconds, both of them remembering the same thing in the same moment.
Joong's voice came first, quiet. "About yesterday..."
Dunk's pulse jumped. "Yeah?"
Joong's hand flexed slightly on his waist. "I didn't plan it."
"I know."
"It just..." Joong hesitated, then sighed. "It happened."
Dunk turned under his arm to face him. Their eyes met in the early light, clear.
"You think I regret it?" Dunk asked.
Joong searched his face, cautious. "Do you?"
Dunk shook his head slowly. "No. Do you?"
Joong's throat bobbed before he answered. "No."
That single word settled between them like the ocean finally reaching the shore.
Dunk's voice softened. "Then why does it feel like we're tiptoeing around it already?"
Joong glanced away for a moment, then back. "Because if we talk too much, we'll start talking about... everything else."
"And you're not ready for that."
Joong gave a faint, rueful smile. "Neither are you."
They let the truth hang there. Not as an accusation just a fact.
Dunk's fingers brushed Joong's forearm lightly. "But yesterday wasn't nothing."
Joong's gaze deepened, steady. "It wasn't nothing." A long pause. The kind that feels heavier than words.
Finally, Dunk exhaled. "Okay. Then we don't have to figure it out right now." Joong nodded, a quiet relief in his face. "Right now, we just... get up."
"Right now," Dunk echoed.
Joong's arm loosened, letting Dunk slip out of bed. They dressed in silence but it wasn't the kind from before. It was thick with unspoken awareness, the way every glance lingered a moment too long.
By the time they reached the kitchen, it was all still there between them, but softer...
They left the bedroom slowly, almost in sync, as if rushing would break something fragile between them. Dunk padded barefoot down the hall, tugging the hem of his shirt into place and Joong followed a step behind, running a hand through his messy hair. Neither of them spoke, but the air between them was full and thick with the memory of last night.
The kitchen felt bright, the morning sun was very intense. Dunk drifted toward the fridge, pulling it open without much thought. "We've got eggs," he said his voice low.
Joong passed him, setting a cutting board on the counter. "And papaya," he murmured, reaching for the knife drawer.
They moved around each other in the small space like they'd never stopped doing it, brushing shoulders, trading quiet glances. Dunk cracked eggs into a pan while Joong cut the fruit, the sound of the knife against the board steady and calm.
"You still like yours runny?" Dunk asked, tilting the pan.
Joong glanced at him. "Yeah."
Dunk let the corner of his mouth twitch upward. "Some things don't change."
Joong's eyes lingered on him for a second longer than necessary before returning to the papaya. "Some things do."
The quiet stretched between them again, but it wasn't uncomfortable. It felt... careful. Dunk plated the eggs while Joong slid the papaya onto a dish.
They sat at the kitchen island side by side and not across from each other. Close enough that Dunk's knee brushed Joong's when he shifted. Close enough for Joong to push the plate of fruit toward him halfway through.
"You always liked the sweeter ones," Joong said softly.
Dunk speared a piece with his fork, meeting his gaze for a heartbeat. "You remember that?"
Joong's lips curved faintly. "I remember a lot."
They lingered at the kitchen island longer than the plates required.
Joong finished his papaya slowly, the last bite disappearing from the fork. Dunk wasn't eating anymore just pushing a crumb around his plate with the edge of his fork.
Finally, Joong set his fork down. "We should get ready," he said, voice quiet but certain.
Dunk looked over at him. "For what?"
"We should see the famous temple," Joong reminded him. His tone was casual, but his eyes stayed fixed on Dunk for a heartbeat too long.
"Oh. Right." Dunk's voice softened, like he'd forgotten for a moment.
Joong stood, collecting his empty plate and placing it in the sink. "It's a cliffside temple. Uluwatu. It'll be hot there, better to dress light."
Dunk hummed in acknowledgement and stood up from his chair. They walked down the hallway together, not talking, the quiet thud of their footsteps on the wooden floor the only sound. Their shoulders brushed once, lightly. Neither of them moved away.
They enter their bedroom and Joong goes under the shower first.
Joong stepped out from the bathroom, he looked like the sun had kissed him and never let go.
The light linen shirt he wore sleeves rolled neatly to his elbows set off the deep golden tan of his skin, the kind of warmth that only came from days under an open sky. His hair, now dry, fell in a deliberate sweep across his forehead, like he'd run a hand through it once and left it to fall naturally.
Dunk showered in the guest bathroom and was already by the sliding glass door when Joong appeared posture straight.
He'd chosen a crisp, short-sleeved button-up in clean white, the top button left undone, the fabric pressed to perfection without a single crease. His neatly tailored navy trousers broke just above polished slippers. Even his dark hair, styled back from his forehead, had that careful neatness that came from habit rather than effort. Dunk had always been like that every detail in place, every line clean.
Joong paused for half a second, taking him in.
Their eyes met, just briefly.
Joong paused for half a second, taking Dunk in.
And then almost like catching himself he cleared his throat. "Taxi'll be here in ten," he said, reaching for his phone on the console table.
Dunk glanced at him briefly, the corner of his mouth twitching upward. "You already booked it?"
"Yeah." Joong tapped the screen once, slipping the phone into his pocket. "You'd still be deciding what shoes to wear otherwise."
Dunk's brow lifted. "Excuse me, I've been ready since before you came out."
Joong tilted his head, eyes glancing down to Dunk's sippers. "Yeah. Ready for a business lunch maybe."
Dunk's lips curved in a faint smirk. "And you look ready to sell me an overpriced beachfront villa."
Joong didn't hide his smile this time. "I'd get you to buy it too."
They stepped out onto the front deck just as the taxi pulled up, an older van with sliding doors, the driver leaning out to greet them with a warm nod. Joong gestured for Dunk to go first, his hand brushing Dunk's lower back as he passed. The touch was fleeting, maybe accidental. Or maybe not.
⸻
Inside the taxi, the air conditioning hummed softly, carrying the faint scent of lemongrass from a hanging charm on the rearview mirror.
Dunk leaned slightly toward the window, watching the coastline slip past. "It's higher than I thought," he murmured.
Joong glanced at him from the opposite seat. "The temple's on a cliff. You'll see the drop when we get there."
Dunk turned his head, a hint of challenge in his eyes. "Trying to scare me already?"
Joong smirked. "You don't scare easily."
"Not true," Dunk replied, his voice playful. "I scare easily at exactly two things: darkness and falling to my death."
Joong raised an eyebrow. "That's... oddly specific."
"Experience," Dunk said simply, his gaze drifting back out the window.
The driver chuckled quietly in the front, clearly listening in. Joong leaned forward slightly, lowering his voice just enough for Dunk. "Don't worry. I'll keep you from falling."
Dunk looked back at him, lips parting, but he didn't say anything. Just let the words hang there, eyes lingering on Joong for a second longer before looking away.
⸻
The taxi climbed higher, the view widening to reveal the endless stretch of ocean on one side. The temple came into view like a vision.
Joong shifted in his seat, glancing at Dunk. "Told you."
Dunk's lips curved faintly. "Alright. It's impressive."
The taxi slowed near the entrance, where small vendor stalls lined the path baskets of flowers, incense sticks, and the occasional coconut stand. The air was warm.
Joong paid the driver, and they stepped out into the bright afternoon. The sound of waves crashing against the cliff was a constant undertone beneath the chatter of visitors and the distant ringing of a temple bell.
They paused at the entrance, where a temple attendant offered each of them a sarong deep purple with gold trim to wrap around their waists. Dunk tied his neatly, careful and precise, the knot resting just right over his hip. Joong's was looser, a little uneven until the attendant stepped in and tightened it with a practiced tug.
Dunk's gaze flicked down. "You'd think Mr. Model would know how to tie a sarong."
Joong glanced up from the knot, one brow raised. "You'd think Mr. Neat and Pressed would mind his own business."
But his lips curved as he said it. They stepped inside together.
The air shifted instantly its cooler and calmer now. The sound of the ocean deepened here, echoing off stone walls. The scent of incense was stronger now, curling from small altars set at intervals along the way.
Joong walked a half step ahead at first, hands loosely in his pockets. Dunk followed, eyes moving from the carvings to the sprawling banyan trees overhead, their roots twisting into the stone itself.
"You've been here before?" Dunk asked quietly.
"Once," Joong replied, glancing back. "For a shoot. Didn't get to really... see it, though."
Dunk hummed. "So this is new for both of us."
Joong smiled faintly. "Guess it is."
They reached a clearing where the cliff opened up, the view stretching wide and unbroken. The water far below was strong and beautiful, waves colliding against the sheer rock. A low stone wall separated them from the drop.
Dunk stepped up to it, resting his hands on the cool stone, the wind catching his hair. Joong joined him a moment later, close enough that their shoulders brushed once again.
"Not afraid of heights?" Joong asked.
Dunk's mouth tilted in a smile. "You're here, aren't you?"
Joong chuckled, the sound low. "So I'm your safety net now?"
"Guess so."
There was something softer in Dunk's tone, enough to make Joong glance over. Dunk was looking out at the horizon, not at him, but the profile like the curve of his cheek, the set of his mouth it was so familiar it ached.
Joong's hand shifted against the wall until the back of his fingers brushed Dunk's. A small touch.
Dunk didn't move away.
They stood like that for a while, the wind stronger here, tugging at the edges of their shirts. Joong's gaze drifted from the view to Dunk's hand, to the way his fingers flexed slightly like he might reach for him if given the chance.
Joong's voice was quieter now. "This is better than last time."
Dunk glanced sideways. "Because I'm here?"
Joong's lips curved. "Yeah."
Dunk's eyes met his then steady, dark, and unguarded in a way Joong hadn't seen in a long time. Neither of them looked away. The sound of the ocean faded just enough that Joong could hear his own heartbeat.
And then Dunk leaned in not much, just enough that Joong could feel the warmth of his breath. Joong closed the space slowly, like he was afraid too quick a move would break it.
The kiss was light. Barely there.
But it was new.
Joong's lips lingered against Dunk's for a moment longer before he drew back, his eyes still on him. The sound of the ocean roared below, wind still tugging at their shirts and Dunk's mouth curved faintly into the smallest, quietest smile.
"People are staring," Dunk murmured, glancing past Joong's shoulder.
Joong didn't look away from him. "Let them."
The warmth in his voice caught Dunk off guard, enough that he had to glance down for a second to collect himself. "You always were shameless," he said, but it was softened by the way his lips tilted upward.
Joong's eyes glinted. "And you always cared too much about what other people think."
"Maybe," Dunk admitted, turning toward the path, "but someone's gotta balance you out."
They fell into step beside each other, shoulders brushing lightly as they walked. The wind felt soft here. Trees shaded the path, and stone carvings stood quietly as they walked by. Every now and then, their hands swung close enough that Joong's fingers grazed Dunk's knuckles. Neither of them moved away.
"Doesn't feel like a place for that," Dunk said after a moment, voice quiet.
Joong looked sideways at him. "For what?"
Dunk gave him a look — you know what, but there was no bite in it. "For... that."
Joong's mouth curved in the faintest smirk. "You didn't seem to mind."
Dunk huffed a quiet laugh, looking ahead. "I didn't."
It was enough to leave the air between them warm. For the first time all day, the quiet felt easy
They were nearly back at the main courtyard when a vendor stepped forward from the row of stalls, smiling warmly. He carried a tray of carved pendants and thin woven bracelets. "For good luck," he said, holding it toward them. "Take home and remember Bali."
Dunk slowed, crouching slightly to see the pendants better. "These are nice," he said, brushing his fingertips over the smooth wooden shapes waves, flowers, simple spirals.
"Handmade," the man said proudly. "Each one is different."
"You should get one," Joong murmured, his voice low behind Dunk.
Dunk looked over his shoulder at him. "Maybe. Could be a nice keepsake."
The vendor, catching the opening, asked, "For a friend? Or for family?"
Dunk smiled politely. "Just for my husband, actually." He held up a pendant toward Joong, showing the carved wave design. Joong blushed slightly. "But I've got a friend back home who'd love this too."
Joong's gaze flickered at that and his blush fainted.
The vendor grinned. "Then two is better than one."
Dunk chuckled, setting the second pendant down. "Not this time. But yeah he'd appreciate it."
They exchanged a few more polite words before moving on, Dunk tucking his hands into his pockets. Joong stayed half a step behind, his expression unreadable.
The conversation replayed in his head.
"Friend back home.
He'd appreciate it."
It wasn't about the pendant, it never was. It was about the ease with which Dunk had said it. The way it came out, so familiar. Like that friend still lived in a part of Dunk, Joong couldn't touch.
Dunk glanced back at him. "You good?"
"Yeah," Joong said evenly, falling into step beside him. "Fine."
The taxi was already waiting near the temple entrance. Joong opened the sliding door and gestured for Dunk to get in first. Dunk didn't think much of it, ducking inside and sliding across the worn seat. Joong followed, pulling the door shut with a quiet click.
The driver glanced at them in the rearview mirror. "Back to the villa, yes?"
Joong nodded. "Yeah."
Outside, the road curved along the cliff for a while before dipping inland, sunlight slipping through the leaves in shifting patches.
Dunk leaned back into the seat, stretching one leg out slightly. "That was... better than I expected," he said, eyes still on the view.
Joong made a quiet sound of agreement but didn't elaborate.
"You really don't talk much, do you?" Dunk teased, glancing sideways at him.
Joong's lips twitched almost a smile. "Not when there's nothing to say."
"There's always something to say," Dunk countered, watching him.
Joong kept his gaze forward. "Not always worth saying."
The reply wasn't sharp, but it wasn't light either.
Dunk frowned faintly, unsure what to make of it. He shifted, letting his gaze drift back out the window, watching the blur of palm trees and small roadside shrines pass by.
Joong, meanwhile, sat too still. His arms were folded loosely across his chest, sunglasses on hiding his expression, but his jaw was tight. The conversation at the vendor's stall kept replaying in his mind, not the words themselves so much as the way Dunk had said them. So familiar. Like nothing had changed.
He told himself it was nothing. He told himself he was overreacting.
But his chest didn't believe it.
Dunk let the silence stretch for a few minutes before trying again. "You tired?"
Joong shook his head. "No. Just... thinking."
"About what?"
Joong's answer was delayed by a beat too long. "Work."
It was a lie and they both knew it, but Dunk didn't push. He just nodded slowly and turned back to the view, letting the quiet settle again.
The rest of the ride was quiet, every so often, Dunk's knee brushed Joong's when the taxi hit a bump, and Joong didn't move away but he didn't lean in, either.
By the time the villa came into view, the silence between them had shifted again. The air felt hotter here, heavier. The sea was louder again, crashing against the shore beyond the palms.
They stepped inside. Dunk kicked his shoes off at the door, letting out a slow breath. "Kinda nice to get back before it's too late. We could still hit the pool before dinner."
Joong set his sunglasses down on the counter a little harder than necessary. "You really can't sit still, can you?"
The words landed sharper than Dunk expected. He turned. "It was just a suggestion."
Joong didn't look at him. "Right." He crossed the room, heading for the kitchen. The sound of the fridge door opening filled the space.
Something in Dunk's chest tightened. "Okay... what's going on with you?"
Joong's voice was muffled behind the fridge door. "Nothing."
"That's not 'nothing' voice." Dunk stepped closer, hands resting on his hips. "You've been quiet ever since—" He stopped himself, replaying the walk back to the taxi. The vendor. The pendant. The mention of—
Realization flickered. "Oh my god." His brow furrowed. "Is this about what I said at the stall?"
Joong straightened slowly, a bottle of water in his hand. "You mean about your friend back home?"
Dunk blinked. "Yeah. My friend. That's all he is."
Joong twisted the cap off the bottle without looking at him. "Sure."
"Sure?" Dunk repeated, disbelief slipping into his voice. "That's it? You're just going to—what? Sulk about it?"
Joong finally looked at him then, eyes dark but steady. "Do you want me to pretend it doesn't bother me?"
Dunk exhaled through his nose, pinching the bridge of it between his fingers. "It shouldn't bother you."
"Doesn't change the fact that it does," Joong said quietly.
For a moment, neither of them moved. The sound of the ocean filled the villa again, the waves slamming harder against the shore like they were in on the conversation.
Dunk shook his head, a humorless laugh escaping. "You know, I thought maybe we could have a day without... this."
Joong's voice dropped lower. "So did I."
It wasn't a fight yet. But it was standing right at the edge of one.
Dunk stood there, jaw tight, watching Joong take a long drink of water like it was the only thing holding his mouth shut.
"So what?" Dunk asked finally. "You're going to let one stupid comment ruin the rest of today?"
Joong's bottle hit the counter with a dull thunk. "It's not one stupid comment."
"Then what is it?" Dunk stepped closer, voice still controlled but fraying at the edges. "Go on, tell me. Because from where I'm standing, it sounds like you're mad that I have friends."
Joong's mouth twitched, but not into a smile. "I'm mad because it's him."
Dunk's shoulders stiffened. "Of course. Always back to him."
Joong's gaze sharpened. "Don't act like you don't know why."
"I don't," Dunk shot back, and it wasn't a lie. "You've never even told me. Not then, not now. You just—" He made a vague, frustrated gesture. "—freeze up and shut down."
Joong's hands curled slightly at his sides. "Because every time I came home, it felt like he'd been there instead of me. Talking to you, making you laugh, filling in whatever I was leaving empty."
Dunk stared at him. "Do you hear yourself? He's my friend. He was there because you weren't."
The silence after that was sharp.
Joong's face didn't change, but something in his eyes did like he'd been expecting that answer and still hated hearing it.
"I was working," Joong said, quieter now. "I thought I was doing it for us."
"And I thought we were supposed to be in this together," Dunk replied, his own voice dropping. "But somewhere along the way, you made me feel like I was on my own."
That landed heavy between them, both of them standing there breathing in the weight of it.
Joong's next words came slower. "If we keep going like this, it's just going to get worse."
Dunk's chest ached, because he knew Joong was right but it felt like surrender. "So what are you saying?"
Joong looked at him then, really looked, and the answer was already there. "We should go home."
The words hit harder than either expected. Dunk's throat tightened. "Home," he echoed.
"One day early," Joong said, as if that somehow softened it. "It's just—this atmosphere—" He gestured vaguely between them. "It's not what either of us wanted."
Dunk didn't argue. He couldn't, because he knew the air between them had shifted beyond repair for now. The magic of yesterday was gone, and all that was left was the hum of the ocean
"Fine," Dunk said finally.
Joong nodded once, pushing off the counter. Neither of them looked at each other as they went to pack.
The villa, once full of salt bright air, felt smaller somehow. The sound of the waves was louder now, relentless, chasing them out.
Dunk hadn't meant for the room to feel this small.
But as soon as Joong said home, the walls of the villa seemed to lean in, closer than they had all week. The air was thick heavy with the smell of the sea and the faint spice of incense drifting from somewhere outside, but not warm anymore.
Not comforting.
He pulled his suitcase out from the corner by the wardrobe. Joong was on the other side of the bed, folding his shirt with the kind of precision Dunk had only ever seen in modeling shoots. He placed it neatly in his case without looking over.
They didn't speak.
Dunk kept his eyes on his own hands, rolling his belt into a tight loop, tucking it into the side pocket of his suitcase like the perfect coil could hold everything else together.
Once or twice, he caught Joong's reflection in the mirror above the desk .. shoulders squared, movements calm, but jaw set too tight. Every so often Joong's eyes would flick toward him, quick, unreadable. Dunk didn't pretend not to notice. He just... didn't hold the glance.
When the last of his clothes were packed, Dunk zipped his suitcase closed and sat on the edge of the bed for a moment, elbows on his knees. He could feel Joong moving behind him, hear the low sound of the zipper on his case.
"You ready?" Joong's voice was even, but not warm.
"Yeah," Dunk said, standing. The word tasted flat.
⸻
They rolled their suitcases down the short hallway to the front door. Outside, the taxi driver stood waiting beside the van, leaning against the open door. The late afternoon sun caught on the water beyond the palms, dazzling white where it hit the waves.
Joong opened the van door for him, and Dunk stepped inside without thinking about it. Joong followed, pulling the door shut with a quiet slam.
The driver glanced back. "Airport, yes?"
"Yeah," Joong answered.
The van eased down the driveway, crunching over gravel before the road leveled into smooth asphalt. Neither of them spoke for the first ten minutes, the low hum of the engine the only sound. Dunk leaned into the window, watching the coastline roll past.
Halfway to the airport, Joong's voice cut through the quiet. "You get everything?"
"Yeah." Dunk's answer was automatic. "You?"
"Yeah." Joong didn't ask anything else.
The silence returned, heavier this time.
⸻
At the airport, they moved like they'd done it a hundred times before side-by-side but not together. The Check-in, dropping the suitcases, going trough the Security. They didn't need to speak for any of it. It was the kind of silence that had rules, an unspoken agreement: we'll get through this, but we won't touch it.
On the plane, Dunk took the window seat. Joong slid in beside him. A stranger occupied the aisle seat, a middle aged man who smiled politely before putting his headphones in.
As the plane taxied down the runway, Dunk caught Joong's reflection in the window head leaned back, eyes closed, hand resting on his thigh. He looked calm, but Dunk knew better.
It was almost worse this way.
The flight wasn't long, but it stretched. Dunk stared out at the clouds, watched the sun sink lower, the sky shifting to deep gold. He thought about the villa's balcony at that hour how it would've looked tonight, how they might have sat there in quiet that wasn't sharp.
His chest ached.
He thought about the pool. The kiss, about the shared bed. How Joong's hand had felt at his back last night, holding him like there was no distance left between them.
He thought about how quickly it had come back.
⸻
By the time they landed, the cabin lights were too bright. They stood when it was their row's turn,
Neither said a word as they navigated the carousel, waited for their bags, stepped into the chilled night air outside. A taxi pulled up within minutes, and they slid into the back without discussing it.
The ride home was quiet again, but not the same quiet as before the flight. This one was settled like both of them knew there was nothing left to say tonight.
When the car pulled up outside their building, Dunk stepped out first, the city air cooler than Bali's but somehow just as heavy. Joong followed, suitcase wheels bumping lightly over the pavement.
They reached the door of their apartment the same key, the same lock they'd left together but it didn't feel like coming home.
Inside, the air was still. No waves, no palm leaves, no salt on the breeze. Just the faint hum of the fridge.
Joong set his suitcase by the wall. Dunk did the same.
"Goodnight," Joong said quietly.
Dunk nodded. "Yeah. Goodnight."
They walked in opposite directions only a few steps, but it felt like miles
//
The light in the apartment was still pale when Dunk woke up, the kind of soft gray-blue that made it hard to tell what time it was. For a moment, he thought maybe he'd woken earlier than usual, until he heard movement from the other room.
The sound of a zipper and the a bag set down. Footsteps crossing the living room floor.
He sat up slowly and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. The apartment smelled faintly of coffee. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and padded barefoot to the doorway.
Joong was already dressed.
Light gray trousers, neat and perfect. White shirt tucked in, sleeves rolled to his forearms. Hair styled neatly, phone in one hand, his leather work bag slung over his shoulder. He didn't look like someone who'd just gotten back from a honeymoon. He looked like he'd never left work in the first place.
"You're up early," Dunk said, voice still rough from sleep.
Joong glanced over, just briefly. "Yeah. They called, they need me at the studio."
Of course they do.
Dunk leaned a shoulder against the doorframe, arms loosely crossed. "First day back and you're already running off."
Joong gave a small shrug, the kind that was meant to say it's nothing personal. "They're shooting ahead of schedule. I'm just filling in."
Filling in. Dunk bit the inside of his cheek. Sure.
"Didn't realize you'd have to go in today," Dunk said, forcing his voice into something almost casual.
"I didn't either," Joong replied, slipping his phone into his pocket. "But it's fine. I won't be too late."
That was what he used to say. Every time.
Sometimes he was late anyway. Sometimes he didn't come back until Dunk was already in bed.
Joong stepped toward the door, then hesitated. "Do you need anything while I'm out?"
There were a dozen things Dunk could've said. Yeah, maybe your time. Maybe for you to stay but instead, he just shook his head. "No. I'm fine."
Joong nodded once. "Okay."
He slipped on his shoes by the door, the faint scrape of the heel against the tile making Dunk's jaw tighten. The leather strap of his bag creaked as he adjusted it on his shoulder.
Dunk didn't move from the doorway. "Guess some things don't change."
The words slipped out before he could stop them.
Joong froze, his hand still on the doorknob. For a heartbeat, he didn't turn around. Then, slowly, he looked back at Dunk.
"What's that supposed to mean?" His voice was even, but there was a trace of something under it like warning or weariness, Dunk couldn't tell.
Dunk shrugged, the motion small. "Nothing."
Joong studied him for a moment longer, as if deciding whether to press. Then he let out a quiet breath and opened the door. "I'll see you tonight."
The door shut behind him with a soft click.
⸻
The apartment was quiet again, too quiet. No waves outside the window, no palm leaves rustling. Just the ticking of the clock on the wall.
Dunk sank onto the couch, elbows on his knees, staring at nothing in particular. He'd told himself it would be different this time, that maybe the honeymoon, as forced as it was, could shift something between them. And for a while, it had. He'd seen glimpses of what they'd been, flashes of warmth that felt almost safe again.
But here they were. Joong leaving in the morning. Dunk left behind.
It felt like muscle memory the kind you don't want but can't shake.
Dunk sat there for a while after the door shut, staring at the faint scuff mark on the coffee table like it might give him answers. The apartment was still. Too still.
He needed air.
He pushed himself off the couch, changed into running shorts and a black tee, laced up his sneakers. The movements were automatic something he'd done a hundred times before, back when early-morning jogs were his escape from crowded schedules and long office days. Now it felt like an escape from his own apartment.
The city air hit him as soon as he stepped outside, cooler than Bali. He set off at an easy pace, the sound of his sneakers hitting the pavement settling into a steady rhythm.
It was quiet at first, just the thud of his heartbeat and the steady pull of his breath. But the more he ran, the more his mind filled in the silence.
The pool. The kiss. Joong's hands at his waist.
The temple, the wind at the cliff's edge, Joong looking at him like there was no one else.
The fight. The villa's air suddenly colder. Packing in silence. Joong saying home like it was the only answer left.
His pace quickened.
He rounded a corner, passing a small park still damp from last night's rain. A couple walked a dog along the edge of the path, their voices low and easy. He caught himself watching them longer than he should, something bitter curling in his chest.
It wasn't that he wanted to be them. He just wanted to feel that way with Joong again the easy quiet, not the sharp kind.
By the time he looped back toward the apartment, his shirt clung to his back, his breathing deep but steady. Sweat slicked the curve of his neck, cooling fast in the morning air.
He unlocked the door, stepping inside to the same stillness he'd left behind.
No shoes by the door that weren't his.
No voice calling out from the kitchen.
No Joong.
Dunk let the door swing shut behind him, the soft click echoing in the empty space. He stood there for a moment, catching his breath, listening to nothing at all.
The run had burned through his restlessness, but it hadn't touched the ache.
By late afternoon, Dunk had settled at the dining table with his laptop open, a spread of tracing paper and pencils to one side. The cursor blinked on the screen over a partially annotated floor plan, waiting for him to decide whether that open-concept living area worked better with one long skylight or two smaller ones.
He tapped his pencil once against the margin, eyes unfocused.
The truth was, he'd been staring at the same section for fifteen minutes. The hum of the fridge was louder than his own thoughts, and every time he tried to focus, his mind dragged him back to the sound of the door shutting this morning.
"They called. Need me at the studio."
Dunk sketched an alternate roofline on the tracing paper, erasing twice before he was satisfied. He switched layers on the drawing software, making the same adjustment digitally. His phone buzzed its a text from a client confirming next week's site meeting. He thumbed back a quick reply, forcing his head back into work.
Suddenly the door clicked open.
Dunk looked up before he could stop himself. Joong stepped inside, sliding his shoes off neatly at the door. He was still in work clothes a tailored black trousers, dark button-up with the sleeves rolled just above the elbow.
"Hey," Joong said, voice even.
Dunk set his pencil down. "Hey."
Joong crossed the room, hanging his bag over one of the dining chairs before heading to the fridge. "Long day?"
Dunk leaned back in his chair. "Working on a layout."
"Anything big?" Joong asked, grabbing a bottle of water.
"New build for a couple in Chiang Mai," Dunk said. "Small project. They want a clean design that still feels warm."
Joong took a long drink, nodding once. "Sounds like your style."
Dunk kept his expression neutral, but the words landed heavier than they should. "You make it sound predictable."
"I didn't mean it like that." Joong said. "It's just... you're consistent. That's a good thing."
Dunk tapped his pencil once against the table. "Right."
The air between them tightened. Not like the edge of a fight, well not yet but with the kind of strain that came from two people both pretending the morning hadn't happened.
Joong glanced at the drawings spread across the table. "Looks good."
"Thanks." Dunk closed the sketchpad, more abruptly than he meant to. "You eat yet?"
"Not hungry," Joong said, taking another sip of water.
"Of course not," Dunk murmured.
Joong's head lifted slightly. "What's that supposed to mean?"
Dunk met his gaze. "Nothing."
It was the same nothing he'd given him this morning but they both knew it wasn't.
Joong didn't look away right away. His eyes stayed on Dunk, sharp enough that the silence between them felt heavier than the ceiling above. Then he set the bottle down a little too carefully on the counter, like putting it down gently could hide the way his jaw tightened.
"You've had that tone all day," Joong said finally.
Dunk leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. "What tone?"
"That one," Joong replied, gesturing vaguely toward him. "The one that says you're annoyed but you'd rather I drag it out of you than just say it."
Dunk huffed a quiet, humorless laugh. "You'd prefer I just say it? Fine." He sat forward, elbows resting on the table. "You left this morning. First day back home, first morning after... everything in Bali... and you left."
Joong's mouth pressed into a thin line. "I told you. They called. I had work."
"Yeah, I know," Dunk said, voice flattening. "You always have work."
Joong blinked slowly, as if absorbing the words, but he didn't speak.
Dunk's chest felt tight, but he pushed on. "You don't even see it, do you? This is exactly what it used to be like. Me here. You gone. And then we wonder why we ended up—" He stopped himself just short of saying broken up.
Joong's brows pulled together. "It's one day, Dunk. One day isn't the whole picture."
"It never starts as the whole picture," Dunk said, shaking his head. "It starts as one day. And then it's another. And another. And before you know it, we're just... living separately under the same roof."
Joong's hand flexed slightly against the counter. "You think I don't remember how that felt?"
Dunk's voice softened just enough to make it hurt more. "Then why are we already back here?"
For a moment, Joong didn't answer. The kitchen was quiet except for the faint hum of the fridge and the tick of the clock on the wall.
Finally, Joong said, "I'm trying."
Dunk studied him, not moving. "Yeah. Me too."
The words hung there, heavier than either of them wanted to admit. Dunk could feel it pressing between them, that invisible wall that no amount of soft words had managed to move.
Joong's gaze shifted, just slightly. "Feels like it's not enough."
Dunk swallowed. "Maybe it's not."
The quiet stretched until Dunk heard himself say it before he could stop: "We broke up, Joong. We're not... that anymore."
Joong's eyes flickered, but his voice stayed steady. "No. We're not."
Dunk exhaled slowly, the truth tasting bitter even though it was one they'd been living for a while. "So what are we doing?"
Joong's jaw tightened. "What my grandfather wanted. What the lawyers wrote up. A contract."
The word sat heavy in the air. Dunk felt it in his chest, sharp and final. "Right," he said quietly. "A contract."
Joong's gaze didn't move from his. "That's all this is supposed to be, isn't it?" His voice was steady, but there was something raw underneath. "Two people pretending."
Dunk shook his head slowly. "That's not what I want."
Joong's brows pulled together. "Then what do you want?"
Dunk's throat tightened. "I want you. I always have. Even when it hurt. Even when I thought I shouldn't."
The air shifted between them, a crack in the wall they'd been building. Joong's voice softened, almost breaking. "I missed you. More than I wanted to admit and than I could admit."
"Then why are we talking about contracts?" Dunk asked, taking a small step closer. "Why are we acting like that's all this is?"
Joong's jaw worked as if he was holding something back. Then it broke loose. "Because it's easier than saying I'm still in love with you."
Dunk's chest ached, but he didn't look away. "Then don't make it easy. Don't make it about paper and signatures. Joong make it about us."
The air between them felt like a live wire.
Joong's last words still echoed "Because it's easier than saying I'm still in love with you."
Joong's gaze held his for a long beat, and it was all the permission Dunk needed to step forward. His throat was tight, but the words had been waiting years to be spoken.
"You want to know what it was like?" Dunk asked, voice low. "When you left?"
Joong didn't move, didn't answer, just let him keep going.
"It was like... the floor gave out. One second you were there, the next—" Dunk's voice faltered, a bitter laugh escaping. "You didn't even give me a reason. You just... left. And every single day after that, I woke up wondering what I'd done wrong. What was so wrong with me that you couldn't stay."
Joong's lips parted, but Dunk kept going. He needed to.
"I thought maybe you'd stopped loving me. Because that was the only thing that made sense. If you still loved me, you wouldn't have left, right? That's what I told myself. Over and over." He shook his head, looking at the floor. "And it ate me alive."
Joong's hand flexed at his side.
Dunk's voice softened, but the edges stayed sharp. "You don't know what it's like to be in love with someone and watch them choose to walk away without even telling you why. You don't know what it's like to feel... disposable. Replaceable."
"I do," Joong said quietly.
Dunk's head lifted. "Then why did you do it to me?"
The question landed like a blow between them. Joong didn't flinch, but he didn't answer either.
Dunk swallowed. "And then there was the jealousy. You thought every time I laughed with someone else it was... more than it was. That friend—" He broke off, shaking his head. "You made him into a threat that he never was. He was just there because you weren't. And yeah, maybe I leaned on him more than I should have, but I didn't... I never—" His breath hitched. "You were it for me."
Joong's eyes darkened, not with anger but something heavier.
"I loved you," Dunk said, voice breaking on the word. "And you left me anyway."
The silence that followed was unbearable. Joong stepped forward then, slow but steady, and Dunk didn't move back.
⸻
He'd imagined this moment so many times, hearing Dunk say those words, hearing the weight in them. And it still felt worse than he'd feared.
"I didn't leave because I stopped loving you," Joong said, his voice low, careful. "I left because I loved you too much."
Dunk's brow furrowed, confusion flickering through the hurt.
Joong drew a breath. "I could see it, Dunk. Every time I came home, you were tired. On edge. Like you were carrying more than you could hold, and I was... part of the weight. I thought I was drowning you."
Dunk shook his head instantly. "You weren't—"
Joong cut in gently. "Let me finish."
He stepped closer, close enough to feel Dunk's breath. "I was working constantly. Shoots, events, flights... I told myself I was doing it for us, but I wasn't around to share any of it with you. And every time I came home, I saw you laughing with him. I told myself it was fine, that you needed friends, but the truth? I was jealous. Not because I thought you were in love with him, but because he got the pieces of you I missed."
Dunk's lips pressed together.
"I hated that it bothered me," Joong admitted, voice thick. "Hated that I couldn't just be happy you had someone when I wasn't there. And the more I saw it, the more I convinced myself you'd be better without me. That maybe if I stepped back, you'd be... lighter. Free."
"You thought leaving me would make me happy?" Dunk's voice cracked, not in disbelief but in quiet heartbreak.
Joong's eyes burned. "I thought staying would break you."
The words hung there, raw and bare.
"I was wrong," Joong whispered. "Leaving broke the both of us.
They stood there, breathing in the weight of it.
Dunk was the first to speak again. "We can't do that again, Joong. We can't let jealousy or... fear or whatever that was... decide for us."
Joong nodded, slow and deliberate. "I know. I don't want to."
"And I don't want to live like we're... on borrowed time," Dunk said. "Like we're just waiting for the contract to be over."
Joong's gaze softened. "Neither do I."
Dunk's throat tightened. "Then we stop pretending this is just paperwork."
Joong took the last step forward, closing the space between them. "Then it's not."
For a moment, neither moved. Then Dunk's hand lifted, hesitating only a fraction before cupping Joong's jaw. Joong leaned into it like he'd been waiting for it forever.
"I missed you," Dunk said, the words breaking on his lips.
Joong closed his eyes. "I missed you more."
The first tear slipped down Dunk's cheek, and Joong caught it with his thumb.
"Then let's not lose each other again," Dunk whispered.
Joong's arms came around him, pulling him in until their foreheads touched. "Never again."
And for the first time since before the breakup, the silence between them wasn't sharp. It was full.. Home.
//
Joong's arms stayed around him for a long time, neither of them moving beyond the gentle press of their foreheads together. The sound of their breathing was steady now, in sync, like their bodies had been waiting for the permission to find each other again.
Dunk's fingers slid down Joong's arm, tracing the fabric of his sleeve until they found his hand. He laced their fingers together without thinking, and Joong squeezed once, warm and certain.
Joong leaned in first, brushing his lips over Dunk's cheek barely there, but enough to make Dunk's chest tighten. Dunk turned his head just slightly, and their mouths met in the softest kiss. No urgency. Just the confirmation of I'm here.
They didn't pull away far.
Joong kissed the corner of Dunk's mouth, and Dunk smiled faintly against him before pressing another kiss in return. Then another and another. Like they couldn't quite stop, like each one only proved how much they'd been starving for this.
They stayed like that, eyes half-closed, their joined hands still caught between them. Every so often, one of them would shift just enough for their noses to brush, for a new angle, for a longer press of lips.
Dunk's free hand lifted to Joong's jaw, thumb stroking lightly over the curve of it. "Feels like forever," he murmured.
Joong kissed him again, slower. "It was."
A few more kisses followed, unhurried one on the lips, one at the corner of Dunk's mouth, one just beneath his nose like Joong was trying to memorize the exact map of him.
When they finally moved toward the bedroom, they didn't let go of each other's hand. The grip was constant, like breaking it might shatter the fragile peace they'd just found. Dunk sat on the edge of the bed, tugging Joong down beside him.
Joong leaned into his shoulder, their fingers still tangled, and kissed his temple. Dunk turned his head and caught his mouth again.
"What?" Joong murmured, smiling against his skin.
"You're—" Dunk's voice broke into a laugh when Joong kissed him again mid-sentence. "—you're not even letting me talk."
"Don't need you to talk," Joong said and kissed him again.
Dunk's laughter deepened, his shoulders shaking just enough to bump against Joong's. "You're ridiculous."
Joong hummed like he agreed and then dropped a quick peck on the tip of Dunk's nose. Dunk grinned so wide it almost hurt his cheeks. "Stop," he said, without meaning it at all.
Joong shook his head lightly and kissed him once more, deliberately slower, thumb brushing the back of Dunk's hand where their fingers were still laced. "Not stopping."
They shifted onto their sides, still facing each other, legs brushing in the soft tangle of the sheets. Joong didn't stop, he keeps pressing a peck to Dunk's lips, his cheek, his jaw, his forehead, his temple. Each one earned either a smile or another burst of quiet laughter.
"Joong—" Dunk tried, but Joong kissed him again before the rest could come out.
"What?" Joong's voice was warm, teasing.
"You're gonna make my face sore," Dunk said, even as his own mouth tilted toward Joong's for another.
"Good," Joong murmured and kissed him again.
The giggles turned into smaller, breathier laughs as Dunk buried his face briefly against Joong's shoulder, still smiling so wide it was impossible to hide. Joong's free hand came up to stroke his hair back gently before dropping another kiss to the side of his head.
When Dunk looked up again, Joong caught his lips once more lingering this time, not just a peck. And when they pulled back, Dunk was still smiling.
"You're impossible," Dunk whispered.
Joong kissed him again, softer now. "So are you."
They stayed like that until their eyelids grew heavy, still holding hands, still exchanging lazy little kisses every time one of them shifted, still smiling into each other's mouths like they'd been starving for this and didn't quite believe they had it again.
And when they finally fell asleep, they were both smiling.
...
Dunk woke to the sound of quiet breathing and the faintest brush of lips against his skin.
It took him a second to realize it wasn't a dream.
He blinked his eyes open to find Joong propped slightly on one elbow beside him, hair a little mussed from sleep, mouth curved in the smallest smile.
Then Joong kissed him again.
Right on the tip of his nose.
Dunk groaned, flopping back against the pillow. "You're still doing this?"
"Mm-hm," Joong hummed, leaning in to press a peck to Dunk's cheek, then another, then another. "You giggled last night. Addictive sound."
Dunk's mouth twitched even as he tried to stay serious. "It's too early for this."
"No, it's perfect timing," Joong said, kissing the corner of his mouth.
Dunk turned his face toward him reluctantly, only for Joong to steal another kiss a quick, soft, almost smug. Dunk made a noise somewhere between a sigh and a laugh. "You're like a cat demanding attention."
Joong nodded solemnly. "Good. Stay still."
He kissed along Dunk's jaw now, slow enough that Dunk had to bite back another laugh. "You're relentless."
"That's what you get," Joong murmured, brushing their noses together before dropping one more on Dunk's lips.
And this time Dunk kissed him back, properly still soft, but with a sleepy smile breaking through. "Okay, fine," he said when they pulled apart. "You win."
"I know," Joong replied, grinning as he leaned in for yet another peck.
It was impossible to fight it the warmth, the ease, the ridiculous way his chest felt lighter with every tiny kiss. Dunk didn't want to fight it anymore.
So he let Joong keep going, laughing into the kisses now, their hands finding each other again just like last night.
Dunk rolled onto his back, dragging Joong's hand with him until it rested over his heart. "What is this obsession with kissing me to death?"
Joong shifted closer, their legs tangling under the blanket. "Making up for lost time."
Dunk's laugh softened into something quieter. "That's a lot of time."
Joong didn't disagree. Instead, he brushed his lips over Dunk's again slower now, lingering just long enough to feel Dunk's hand tighten slightly in his.
They stayed like that for a long while. Sometimes they kissed. Sometimes they just held each other's gaze. Neither seemed in a hurry to get up, to let the outside world in.
⸻
Joong's hand shifted from Dunk's chest to his jaw, thumb tracing along the faint line of stubble there. "I need you to hear this," he said, voice steady in that way that meant it was important.
Dunk's brows knit slightly. "Okay."
"I will never leave you alone like that again," Joong said. "Not for work. Not for anything. If I have to travel, you're coming with me. If I have to be on set, you're coming too. No more... empty rooms."
Dunk's throat tightened, because the promise wasn't just words, it carried the weight of all the years they'd lost. "Joong—"
"I mean it," Joong said, leaning in to kiss him once, firm but gentle. "You are my life. The rest is just... background."
Dunk closed his eyes briefly, letting the words sink in. "Then I want to make you a promise too."
Joong waited, still close enough that Dunk could feel his breath.
"I want you to meet him," Dunk said quietly. "My friend. The one who... you know."
Joong's lips pressed together slightly, but he didn't look away.
"I don't want there to be shadows anymore," Dunk continued. "No doubts. You should hear it from him. How much I... how much I've always been yours."
For a long moment, they just looked at each other. Then Joong nodded slowly. "Okay."
—//—
The café was small and warm, the kind of place that smelled like coffee beans and fresh pastries the second you opened the door. Dunk had chosen it deliberately.
Joong sat beside him at the small round table, their knees brushing lightly under the wood.
When the door opened and Dunk's friend walked in, he broke into an easy smile. "Dunk!"
They hugged briefly a quick, friendly squeeze, before Dunk gestured to the man beside him. "This is Joong."
The friend's smile widened. "Finally. I've heard so much about you."
Joong blinked once, surprised. "You have?"
"Oh, constantly," the friend said, sliding into the seat across from them. "Even when you two weren't... together. I think your name came up every time we met."
Dunk's ears flushed faintly, but he didn't look away.
The friend laughed, glancing between them. "Half the time it was stories about you. The other half it was him defending you whenever anyone said anything even remotely critical. Honestly, Joong, I feel like I've known you for years already."
Joong didn't answer right away, because the words hit deeper than he'd expected. He looked at Dunk really looked and saw the truth written in his face.
It had always been him.
They ordered coffees, and conversation flowed easily about travel stories, work, light teasing about Dunk's neatness. At one point, Dunk reached under the table, lacing his fingers with Joong's in a quiet reassurance that this wasn't about testing him, it was about letting him in.
...
By the time they left, the air between them felt lighter than it had in months.
Back in their apartment, Dunk went straight to the kitchen, setting two mugs on the counter. Joong leaned in the doorway, watching him quietly.
"Tea?" Dunk asked without looking up.
Joong crossed the room, slipping his arms around Dunk from behind. "Thank you."
"For the tea?"
"For today." Joong pressed his face into Dunk's neck, voice warm against his skin. "I didn't realize how much I needed to hear some of that."
Dunk rested a hand over Joong's where it sat against his waist. "I told you. No more shadows."
They ended up on the couch, a blanket over their legs, Dunk tucked under Joong's arm. The TV played something neither was watching.
Joong traced lazy circles on the back of Dunk's hand with his thumb, like he couldn't stop touching him even if he tried. "You're quiet," he murmured.
Dunk's lips tilted faintly. "So are you."
"Comfortable quiet," Joong clarified, leaning to brush a kiss into Dunk's hair.
They stayed like that until Dunk's head dropped heavier against Joong's shoulder, his eyes slipping shut. Joong smiled, tightening his arm around him. "You're falling asleep on me."
"Mm, maybe," Dunk admitted without opening his eyes.
Joong tilted his head down, catching the corner of Dunk's mouth in a soft kiss. "Then come to bed with me."
Dunk's eyes finally opened, slow and a little hazy. "You mean sleep?"
Joong's lips curved against his skin. "Eventually."
That earned him the smallest, warmest smirk from Dunk, who finally shifted to look at him properly. "You're impossible."
Joong leaned forward just enough to steal a kiss slow, unhurried, his hand coming up to cup Dunk's jaw. "And you're still here," he murmured against his mouth.
Dunk kissed him back without hesitation, their joined hands tightening slightly under the blanket. It wasn't a hungry kiss yet but it had the weight of everything they'd been holding back.
Joong drew back just enough to stand, offering his hand. "Come with me."
Dunk slid his fingers into Joong's, letting himself be pulled up from the couch. The blanket slipped away, pooling on the sofa behind them. They didn't let go of each other's hand as they made their way down the hall, the dim apartment light softening the edges of everything.
In the bedroom, Joong guided Dunk to the bed first, leaning down to brush another kiss across his lips as Dunk sat on the edge. Joong followed, easing him back onto the mattress, the kiss deepening just slightly.
They didn't rush.
Every move felt deliberate. Like they both knew they had time and no intention of wasting any of it.
Joong's hand slid down Dunk's arm, finding his fingers again, lacing them together like he'd been holding them all along. Dunk gave a small squeeze back, the corner of his mouth lifting as Joong leaned in for another kiss.
And another.
And another.
Joong kissed him again, slower than before, the kind of kiss that stayed with you even when you pulled away. His hand stayed at Dunk's jaw, thumb stroking along the curve of his cheek like he was memorizing him.
When they finally broke for breath, their foreheads stayed pressed together. Joong's voice was low, steady. "I love you."
Dunk's grip on his hand tightened. "I love you too."
Another kiss soft, warm then deeper as Dunk's other hand slid into Joong's hair, pulling him closer. Their legs tangled naturally, bodies molding together as if there had never been a gap between them. Joong's free hand rested at Dunk's waist, fingers curling into the thin fabric of his shirt.
"Take this off," Joong murmured, brushing his lips against Dunk's again.
Dunk obeyed without breaking their kiss, lifting his arms as Joong peeled the shirt away slowly, palms dragging against warm skin. Joong's gaze lingered on him for a moment before he leaned in to press soft kisses along his collarbone, tasting the heat there.
Dunk sighed, his hand sliding along Joong's back, fingertips brushing the hem of his shirt. "Yours too."
Joong pulled his shirt over his head, letting it drop somewhere to the side. The first press of their bare chests drew a quiet, involuntary sound from both of them — the kind that came from more than just desire.
They kissed again, slower but with more weight. Every shift of Joong's mouth against Dunk's said you're mine in a language they both understood. Joong's hand trailed down Dunk's side, thumb brushing over the dip of his waist before slipping beneath the waistband of his shorts.
Dunk's breath caught, but he didn't stop him.
Clothing became something distant, pieces of fabric eased away between kisses, discarded on the floor. Every touch was unhurried, reverent.
When they were bare, Joong didn't rush. He lay over Dunk, bodies pressed close, foreheads touching again. His hand found Dunk's and laced their fingers together, pressing them to the bed above their heads.
"Mine," Joong whispered against his lips.
"Yours," Dunk breathed back, his voice catching.
Joong kissed him again, deeper now, the heat between them growing but still threaded with softness. Dunk's legs wrapped around his waist instinctively, pulling him in closer.
They moved together in a rhythm that was less about speed and more about connection, every push and pull an unspoken I love you, every gasp a don't let go. Joong's free hand stroked down Dunk's side, curling around his thigh, holding him steady.
Their breathing grew heavier, but they didn't look away from each other.
"I missed this," Joong murmured, his voice rough.
"I missed you," Dunk said, pulling him closer still.
Joong's movements grew a little deeper, still controlled but carrying more intent, each one a statement. Dunk's hands gripped his shoulders, his nails dragging lightly along his skin as their mouths met again and again.
When they were close, Joong pressed their foreheads together once more. "With you. Always."
"Always," Dunk whispered back, his voice breaking just before pleasure overtook the both of them.
It wasn't rushed. It was everything they'd been holding back, let out in slow, deliberate waves until they were left breathless and trembling in each other's arms.
Joong didn't pull away afterward. He stayed pressed to Dunk, still inside him, still holding his hand. He kissed him again slow, lingering and sealing it.
"I'm never letting you go again," Joong murmured against his mouth.
Dunk smiled faintly, tears pricking his eyes. "Good. Because I'm not letting you either."
They stayed like that, tangled together in the quiet, until sleep eventually found them. And when it did, their fingers were still interlaced.
.
.
.
They hadn't planned for this to happen.
Not the marriage, not the contract and not the awkward honeymoon that began with guarded silences and ended with them falling asleep in each other's arms.
They'd gone to Bali as exes who couldn't look at each other without remembering the cracks that had split them apart. Seven days later, they left as something else entirely, not just lovers again, but partners who had faced the worst of their history and chosen each other anyway.
They had fought.
They had bared old wounds.
They had picked at scars they thought had long since healed.
But they had also laughed. They had kissed and they had learned the shape of each other again in sunlight and saltwater, in the quiet of midnight, in the warmth of shared mornings.
The contract had brought them back together.
But love .. stubborn, impossible, consuming love was what kept them there.
No more leaving.
They were not pretending anymore.
They were home.
—///—
It was months later, on a quiet Saturday morning, when Dunk caught Joong watching him over the rim of his coffee cup.
"What?" Dunk asked, smiling without meaning to.
Joong just shrugged, eyes still on him. "Nothing. Just thinking about Bali."
Dunk rolled his eyes lightly but his smile widened. "That was supposed to be the worst trip of our lives."
"Mm," Joong hummed, leaning back in his chair. "Guess we're bad at following the script."
Dunk set his mug down, reaching across the table to hook his fingers through Joong's. "Best accident we ever had."
Joong's mouth curved into that slow, certain smile Dunk knew too well. "Not an accident. Just... overdue."
"We should visit Grandfather again..."
"Yeah, we should and thank him again and again."
And in that warm, easy moment, with their hands linked over the table and sunlight spilling across the floor, Bali felt like a lifetime ago and also the start of everything that mattered.