Chapter Text
EP 13 scene description-
The room is warm with laughter, clinking glasses, and music. Po sits at a round table beside Baifern, his eyes downcast, fiddling with a glass of water. Earn is across from him, saying something with a half-smile, but Po isn’t really listening.
Suddenly, the doors at the far end swing open.
Heads turn.
Thame steps inside—late, glowing under the soft lights, his eyes scanning until they find Po. He doesn’t hesitate.
He walks past everyone without a word.
Baifern’s eyes widen. Earn’s smile drops.
Po slowly rises to his feet, unsure, breath catching.
Thame stops right in front of him.
The venue looked like a nostalgia trap—fairy lights glowing too warmly, framed class photos arranged on cloth-covered tables, and a projector quietly looping yearbook quotes everyone had once taken too seriously. Po lingered at the edge of it all, shoulders stiff, fingers locked around a glass of untouched punch.
“This was a mistake,” he muttered.
Baifern—glammed up, radiant, and already scanning the room like she was ready to go to war—hooked her arm around his. “Nope. You needed to get out of your editing cave. Plus, someone needs to remind these people that you’re not that quiet wallflower anymore. You’re that quiet wallflower—with film credits.”
Po gave her a look. She winked. But his eyes had already drifted across the room, scanning for a certain face. One that hadn't arrived yet.
“You didn’t tell anyone he’s coming, right?” he asked under his breath.
Baifern scoffed. “Please. Like I’d give Earn the satisfaction.”
Po flinched at the name.
Speak of the devil.
Earn had just walked in—sharp jaw, muted luxury, entrepreneur confidence dialed up to eleven. He greeted old friends like he hadn’t missed a beat since school, soaking in the attention. Some people nodded with curiosity. Others—like Po—froze entirely.
“Want to fake a stomachache and run?” Po asked.
“No,” Baifern hissed. “You’re staying. You’re thriving. You’re going to look Earn in the face and smile like you didn’t once design the logo for his company while crying into your hoodie.”
Po laughed dryly. “I wasn’t crying.”
“You were definitely hoodie-sobbing.”
Before he could argue further, Earn’s eyes met his.
Po’s stomach dropped.
Earn made his way over with that familiar calm intensity Po had once loved and now barely tolerated.
“Po,” Earn said, his voice low, laced with nostalgia. “Baifern.”
“Earn,” Baifern replied coolly.
Po nodded stiffly.
Earn’s gaze lingered. “You look good.”
“You too.”
“Still doing the film thing?”
“He’s directing a major project,” Baifern cut in, chin tilted. “A documentary on MARS. You’ve heard of MARS, right?”
Po bit back a sigh. Baifern’s claws were already out.
“Of course,” Earn said. “Didn’t realize Po was into idols now. Bit of a shift.”
“He’s not into idols,” Baifern said, too quickly.
Po shifted uncomfortably. “It’s work.”
Earn smirked. “Work, huh? So… rumor says you’re dating someone new. But no one’s seen him. Makes you wonder.”
Po’s shoulders tensed. “He’s real.”
“Sure.” Earn sipped his drink, his tone easy, almost amused. “Just weird you never post about him. Or show him off. Not your style, I guess. You always did like keeping things close to your chest.”
Po didn’t answer.
“You used to say work didn’t matter if the relationship wasn’t right,” Earn added casually. “Funny how that changes. Or… maybe it doesn’t. Maybe you just made someone up to avoid looking like you’ve fallen behind.”
“Po hasn’t fallen behind,” Baifern snapped.
“I didn’t mean it like that,” Earn said smoothly, like he absolutely meant it like that.
Po’s mouth opened—then closed again.
And then, behind them:
“Sorry I’m late.”
That voice.
That voice.
Thame walked in like a dropped match—sharp, bright, about to set something on fire. His white shirt clung a little too perfectly to his frame, sleeves rolled, eyes glittering as they scanned the room before locking—immediately—on Po.
Po’s breath caught.
Earn blinked. “Wait… is that Thame?”
Baifern’s jaw dropped. “What the hell—?”
Thame strolled over casually, giving a tiny wave. “Hey, P'Po.”
His voice was warm. Familiar.
Po stood frozen. Baifern was vibrating beside him.
“You came,” Po said quietly.
Thame’s smile softened. “Of course I did.”
Earn was staring like he’d been hit with a pop culture brick. “Friends with celebs now, huh?”
Po hesitated. “This is—uh—Thame. He’s a friend.”
A beat.
Thame’s smile flickered, just barely, before he recovered. “Yeah. Just friends,” he said smoothly. “We met on set. He was directing MARS’s doc. Brilliant guy.”
Earn gave a dry laugh. “Damn. Small world.”
Thame slid onto the seat beside Po without being asked. His arm brushed against Po’s, casual but not accidental.
Earn studied them. “We were all kind of waiting to see this mystery boyfriend you keep dodging questions about, Po.”
Po shifted uncomfortably. “I didn’t say he was coming.”
“But he exists, right?” Earn said with a smirk. “Just checking. You always were a little too romantic. Thought love mattered more than career. I guess when that didn’t work out, you swung the other way.”
Thame’s hand settled on Po’s knee beneath the table. Light. Casual. But his thumb tapped once, then twice, like a warning.
Po flushed and looked down.
Thame tilted his head toward Earn. “He's the guy you shared the sandwiches with?”
“After school,” Baifern muttered like it was poison.
Earn smiled. “It was serious. At least, I thought so. Until it wasn’t.”
Thame’s fingers moved—slowly tracing the seam of Po’s jeans under the table now. Not enough for anyone to see. Enough for Po to go very, very still.
Thame’s tone stayed light. “So now you’re just out here giving character references?”
“Just observations,” Earn said. “Po's great. Sensitive. Loyal. A little intense. But he gets in too deep sometimes. Prioritizes love too much, forgets to breathe.”
Thame’s jaw twitched, but he smiled. “Interesting. I’d say that’s his best quality.”
Earn raised an eyebrow. “Only if you can keep up. But most people can’t. Especially if they’ve got, say, an actual job.”
“You think he can’t keep up?” Thame asked, voice soft with a dangerous lilt.
“I know he couldn’t,” Earn replied, sharp now. “He always gave too much. And expected it back.”
The air at the table went cold.
Po stayed silent.
Baifern was two seconds from murder.
Thame leaned in, hand still firmly under the table, his voice velvet-smooth. “Well. Maybe it’s not about keeping up. Maybe it’s about… choosing what’s worth the pace.”
Earn blinked.
Po just stared at the empty plate in front of him, cheeks burning.
Baifern stood abruptly. “I need a drink.”
“I’ll come with—” Po started, but Thame’s hand slid even higher, dangerously close.
“He’s good here,” Thame said calmly, eyes still on Earn. “We were just getting to the good part.”