Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

There were no cameras.

 No phones pointed their way.

 No fangirls waiting for coy smiles, suggestive glances, or those fleeting brushes of skin that sent imaginations spiraling.

No.

Right now, it was just the two of them.

“Smart?” Boom glanced at him, puzzled, as they stood by the open lift. Those long fingers gripped Boom’s arm firmly, stopping him from retreating to his hotel room.

Smart seemed... off tonight.At the staff dinner earlier, he’d been unusually quiet. Boom had figured the jetlag and the endless buzz of the show’s success were finally catching up to him. They’d been swept up in a whirlwind—tight schedules, rising fame, no time to catch their breath. Not that Boom was complaining. This was the big break he had been chasing.

“Can we talk, P’Boom?” His grip loosened, the question soft—almost hesitant.

“Hn…” Smart gave a small nod, his throat suddenly dry. “Is it something serious?”

“I’d rather not talk here.”

Their footsteps echoed in the quiet Tokyo hotel hallway, unusually loud in the stillness of the night.
 Once inside Boom’s room, they slipped off their shoes in silence. Boom handed Smart a glass of water, and the younger man took it with a nod, settling at the edge of the neatly made bed.

But tonight, his usual warm gaze was missing.
 Instead, his eyes drifted to a random spot on the floor, distant—like he was searching for the right words in a sea of tangled thoughts.

“Is something wrong?” Boom asked, his voice edged with concern.

In the past few months, they’d spent so much time together—workshops, long filming days, endless promotions. And yet, despite what the internet loved to imagine, moments like this—just the two of them, no cameras, no chaos—were exceedingly rare.

Boom’s heart gave a sharp skip as Smart finally looked up at him.

That gaze—dark, intense, deliberate. It wasn’t new. Smart had mastered the art of the smouldering look, turning it on like a switch for fans, press, even the camera lens.

Boom barely had time to process it before Smart rose to his feet, setting the untouched glass of water down on the dressing table with quiet finality.

Then he stepped forward.

Boom instinctively backed up—only to find the wall at his back. His breath caught as Smart closed the distance, the space between them charged, electric.

No words.

Just the heat of his body, the weight of his gaze, and the sudden, dizzying awareness that something between them had shifted.

Something real.

Something dangerous.

For a moment, Boom had difficulty breathing.
 “Smart? Wha—?”

“It’s all an act for you, huh?”
 Smart’s voice was low, almost amused—but not quite. His lips curved into something resembling a smile, though it didn't reach his eyes.

He was so close Boom could feel the heat radiating off him, his breath soft against his skin… and still, they weren’t touching.

Boom’s heart pounded in his chest, but his voice stayed steady. Years in front of the camera taught him how to keep the surface calm, no matter what boiled underneath.

“What do you mean?” he asked, even though he had a feeling he already knew.

It took less than a heartbeat to reel in his emotions, to smooth his expression, to tuck the flutter in his chest somewhere no one could see.

Smart let out a dry chuckle. “You’re so good at it, you can even fool me.”

Boom didn’t respond right away. He was too aware—of the weight of Smart’s stare, of the tension strung between them like a live wire, of how their bodies hovered in this delicate, dangerous space. One step closer and they’d collide.

And maybe he wanted that. Maybe they both did.

But he also knew how fragile this moment was—how easily it could break into something they couldn’t take back.

So instead, he let the silence stretch, watching the younger man carefully.

“Tell me what you think I’m pretending,” Boom said quietly. “And I’ll tell you if you’re right.”

Smart’s expression shifted—just slightly. The smile faltered. His eyes, so sure just seconds ago, flickered with something rawer, deeper.

He didn’t answer. Not yet.

Instead, he reached out.

Fingers brushed against Boom’s jaw, feather-light at first, almost hesitant… then firmer, more certain.

“Don’t you feel it too?” Smart murmured. “Or are you still acting?”

Boom’s cheeks started to burn.

The Thai BL industry was a strange, unforgiving world. Everything hinged on chemistry—on screen, off screen, in every glance and every social media post. It was an illusion they were expected to sell—two beautiful men wrapped up in a saccharine, picture-perfect romance. A fantasy.

And Boom? He played his role well. The sweet one. The ‘bottom.’ The doting ‘wife.’ Whatever the fans needed.

To crack that illusion could mean career suicide.

“Smart, I don’t know why you’re suddenly like this,” Boom said, trying to steady his voice as he placed his hands on Smart’s shoulders. It was meant to create space—but his fingers curled instinctively against the warmth of firm muscle beneath the shirt.

Smart didn’t move away. He didn’t even flinch.

“I know,” he said softly. “There’s a lot riding on our ship, hmm? That’s why you’re trying so hard.”

Boom’s jaw tightened. Smart’s words struck too close to the truth.

He was trying hard. Always had. Ten years in the industry, clawing his way up from background roles, rejected auditions, forgettable dramas. TopForm had finally cracked open a door he’d been pounding on for years—and damned if he wasn’t going to walk through it, head held high.

But what would someone like Smart understand?

He was young. Handsome. A product ready to be unwrapped and adored. One of those rare talents the industry chose. Everything handed to him with a bow.

A flash of something bitter rose in Boom’s chest—envy, maybe, or resentment—or something too tangled to name.

Before he could stop himself, his hand struck out.
 A sharp, instinctive slap. The sound cracked through the air like a whip.

Smart’s head turned with the force of it. The room went still.

Boom’s breath hitched.

But then Smart looked back at him, not angry. Not shocked.

Just... quiet.

The gentleness in his expression didn’t waver. If anything, it deepened, like he saw through the anger to the wound beneath it.

He didn’t close the space with force or arrogance—just one step, slow and open, until they were close again. Close enough that Boom could feel the calm rhythm of his breath.

“You don’t have to fight me,” Smart said, voice hushed. “I’m not here to take anything from you.”

Boom’s throat worked. His hands were still resting on Smart’s shoulders, now more like an anchor than a barrier.

“You think I don’t notice how hard you work?” Smart went on. “How you carry yourself? How careful you are?”

"I… At first, it was an act for me too,” Smart said, voice barely above a breath. “I mean, I’ve done this before…But with you... it felt different. Too easy. Too real. And I didn’t know how to turn it off.”

Boom’s breath shuddered out of him, quiet and sharp. His chest felt too tight for words.

The moment hung suspended—fragile and pulsing with everything unspoken.
 Desire, yes. But also vulnerability. Trust. And underneath it all, fear.

Maybe that’s what terrified Boom the most: how much he wanted to believe him.

Then he saw it—just a flicker at first. The shimmer of moisture gathering at the corners of Smart’s eyes. The almost imperceptible tremble of his bottom lip as he tried to hold it together.

“Smart...?” Boom’s voice cracked under the weight of it.

Smart gave a soft, shaky laugh. “This feeling... it’s wrapped around me so tight I don’t know where I end and it begins. And I’m scared, Boom.”

His eyes met Boom’s again, wide and heartbreakingly open. “I’m scared that once this all blows over—once the hype around TopForm fades—there won’t be a reason for you to stay close to me anymore.”

That hit like a punch to the ribs. Not because Boom had never thought it—but because he had. Every single day.

That once the fanservice ended, once the cameras stopped capturing every shared glance and accidental brush of skin, this fragile closeness between them would vanish too.

He’d convinced himself it was safer to stay behind the line—to keep it professional, to keep it pretend.

But here Smart was, saying it out loud. Naming the fear. Holding it out in trembling hands like an offering.

And something inside Boom cracked.

He looked at the younger man—not the co-star, not the “ship,” but Smart. The one who watched him quietly, who made space for him without demanding anything in return. Who was scared too, but still chose to be honest.

Boom's voice, when it finally came, was hoarse. “You're not the only one who's afraid.”

Their eyes locked in silence for a heartbeat. Then another.

Boom reached up, his fingers brushing gently over Smart’s trembling lips—soothing, reverent. His mouth found the tears at the corners of Smart’s eyes, kissing them away with a tenderness that made Smart shiver.

Smart leaned in instinctively, lips searching. When they met Boom’s, the kiss was deep and unhurried—full of longing and gratitude and everything neither of them had dared say aloud.

Boom melted into it, hands slipping around Smart’s waist, pulling him close until there was no space left between them. He felt the warm weight of Smart’s palm cradling the back of his head, fingers threading into his hair like it was the only thing anchoring him to the earth.

“Boom…” Smart whispered his name breathily, voice rough with want.

The sound of it went straight through Boom—low and urgent, like a confession wrapped in desire.

Boom cupped Smart’s jaw, angling his face, deepening the kiss. Smart responded with a soft moan, his hands now roaming down Boom’s back, slow and exploratory, as if memorizing every inch. There was nothing rushed in their movements—only the steady, deliberate unraveling of restraint.

When Boom pulled back slightly, their foreheads rested together, breath mingling. “Are you sure?” he asked, voice barely audible.

Smart’s thumb traced Boom’s lower lip. “I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

Boom’s lips hovered near Smart’s ear, their bodies still tangled in warmth and unspoken truths. “The real me…” he whispered, fingers trailing over the soft skin of Smart’s neck, drawing a shiver. “I’m not Akin from the series. I’m not the wifey from our ship.”

He pulled back just enough to look into Smart’s eyes—earnest, exposed. “I’m just me. And I don’t know if that’s what you want.”

There was a flicker of emotion across Smart’s face—something fierce and soft all at once. He reached up and cradled Boom’s face in both hands, thumbs brushing lightly over his cheeks.

“I don’t want the script,” Smart said, voice thick with emotion. “I want you. The one who fights so hard to protect himself. The one who makes me laugh when no one’s looking. The one who looks at me like this.”

He leaned in, brushing their noses together.

“You don’t have to perform for me, Boom. Just be mine.”

With those words, Boom pulled Smart down for a long, lingering kiss—slow and searching, full of promise. When he finally eased back, his hands still tangled in Smart’s shirt, he gave a gentle push.

Smart stumbled back, the backs of his legs hitting the edge of the bed. He let himself fall onto it, propped on his elbows, eyes never leaving Boom’s.

For a breathless moment, Boom just stood there, watching him—this beautiful, complicated man who had once been all confidence and bright smiles, and now lay before him open, waiting.

Boom climbed onto the bed slowly, deliberately, his knees on either side of Smart’s as he straddled him. He reached down and began unbuttoning Smart’s shirt—one button at a time, each click of fabric echoing in the quiet of the room. He didn’t rush. He wanted to see him. To take his time.

Smart’s breath hitched, but he didn’t move, didn’t interrupt. His hands came to rest gently on Boom’s thighs, thumbs stroking small, reverent circles. There was heat in his eyes, yes—but also patience. Worship.

Once the shirt fell open, Boom slid his hands along the warm, smooth planes of Smart’s chest, his touch light, teasing, reverent. His fingers traced the dip between collarbones, the rise of muscle, the thrum of a heartbeat beneath skin. Then he leaned down, his mouth following where his hands had been—kisses pressed to the center of his chest, up his neck, the curve of his jaw.

Smart tipped his head back with a sigh, his fingers digging into Boom’s thighs. “You’re driving me crazy,” he murmured, voice hoarse, thick with want.

Boom smiled against his skin, then whispered into his ear, “Good.”

Their bodies moved like they'd been waiting for this—aching for it.

Boom lay back against the pillows, his breath shallow, pupils wide as Smart leaned over him, one hand braced beside his head, the other slowly, reverently gliding down his side. The warmth of skin-on-skin sent tremors through them both. There was nothing performative about this—not a scene to be filmed, not fanservice. Just them.

Smart kissed him like he was learning him—starting at Boom’s lips, then moving down, lingering at his throat, biting gently at the spot where his pulse fluttered. Boom gasped, arching into it, hands gripping Smart’s back.

“Tell me what you like,” Smart murmured, voice hoarse, lips grazing the shell of Boom’s ear.

Boom’s reply was a breathless moan. “Just… don’t stop.”

Smart smiled, but there was reverence in it. His hands roamed downward—gentle, confident, patient—learning the map of Boom’s body. When he found the places that made Boom’s breath catch or his thighs tense, he didn’t rush past them. He stayed. Savored. Worshipped.

When the tension between them became too much to bear, Smart reached for the bottle of lotion on the side table, his movements unhurried, eyes never leaving Boom’s. The air between them thrummed with anticipation—not awkward, not shy—just thick with feeling. Honest. Real.

Boom’s hands lingered on Smart’s skin, the heat between them mounting. Just as they were about to close the distance further, Smart’s eyes flicked to the bedside table, then back to Boom with a soft, uncertain smile.

“Hey… do you have one of those?” he asked quietly. “You know… condoms?”

Boom chuckled softly, fetching his wallet and pulling one out. “Right here. Safety first, always.”

Smart took it, a teasing glint sparking in his eyes. “So you always keep these in stock, hmm?” His voice held a hint of jealousy.

Their fingers brushed briefly, and Boom smiled, leaning closer. “For special guests only.”

He leaned in, brushing a soft kiss to Boom’s lips before whispering with a playful glint in his eyes, “I wish we had honey right now.” The reference to their infamous Black Honey NC scene made Boom huff a breathless laugh against his mouth.

Smart prepared him with careful fingers, slow and attentive, watching Boom’s reactions, reading every flutter of breath, every shift of his hips. Boom’s eyes fluttered shut, mouth parting in a soft gasp as he surrendered to the rhythm, the stretch, the delicious pressure.

“You okay?” Smart asked, brushing back the damp hair at Boom’s temple.

Boom opened his eyes, dark and glassy. “Yes. Come closer.”

When Smart finally entered him, it was slow—inch by inch—giving Boom time to adjust, to breathe through the heat and intensity. Their eyes never broke contact. The stretch, the fullness—it stole Boom’s breath, but not his clarity. He wanted this. He wanted him.

Smart’s movements started gentle, rolling his hips in slow waves, grounding each thrust in connection, not just sensation. Boom wrapped his legs around his waist, meeting him, urging him deeper.

There were no more words—only the sharp sounds of pleasure, the quiet slap of skin on skin, the creak of the bed beneath them. Smart kissed him through it all—his lips always returning to Boom’s, like they were home.

And when Boom came, it was with a stuttering cry, his body arching, eyes locked on Smart’s as if he couldn’t bear to look away. Smart followed soon after, burying his face into Boom’s neck, whispering his name like a prayer as he unraveled.

They collapsed together, breathless and slick with sweat, their limbs tangled, hearts pounding in unison.

No lights. No cameras. No script.

Just them.

**not the end** Because my brain is now obsessed with Smart and Boom! All that fanservice!

I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I did writing it! Please leave me a comment if you like it~

Update: If you enjoyed this, follow the story on what happens next on When the Stage Turns Away.

Chapter Text

When the Stage Turns Away

The morning light slid across the hotel room in Tokyo in golden shafts onto the crumpled white sheets and entwined bodies.

Smart woke first.

He didn’t open his eyes right away. He just listened—to the subtle hum of the air conditioner, the distant sound of traffic beyond the curtains… and the quiet, steady breathing beside him.

Boom was still asleep, curled towards Smart, his face half-buried in the pillow. He looked younger like this. Softer. 

Smart watched him, breathing softly, cautious not to wake the older man. Careful not to break the spell. A small smile played on his lips as he gently stroked Boom’s messed-up hair.

Boom didn’t stir.

Smart trailed a finger—slow, deliberate—down the soft curve of Boom’s neck, where he’d left a faint pink mark on pale skin the night before.

Then, dark lashes fluttered.

Boom’s eyes opened, still hazy with sleep, and even now—disheveled, barely awake—he looked devastatingly beautiful. It never ceased to amaze Smart - how this man could look so good in any light, any moment.

“Ohayo,” Boom said in a quiet voice, the dark orbs of his eyes gazing up at the younger man.

For Smart, what happened last night—Boom accepting him—felt like a dream. And even now, wrapped in morning stillness, it still did.

If it was a dream, he didn’t want to wake up.

Not yet. Not when Boom was looking at him like that.

Smart didn’t answer right away. Instead, he leaned in, pressing a kiss to Boom’s temple—light, lingering, like a secret.Then he pulled back just enough to see his face, to memorize the sleep-softened features, the eyes that still looked half-dreaming.

“I wasn’t sure you’d still be here in the morning,” Smart murmured, voice barely above a breath. A smile touched his lips, small and uncertain. “But you are.”

“Why wouldn’t I be? You weren’t that bad…” Boom teased. His body ached but in a pleasant way.

Smart huffed a laugh, relieved and maybe a little bashful. “Oh,” he said, letting his fingers trace lazy shapes across Boom’s bare shoulder, “so that’s the bar. Just don’t be terrible and I get to wake up next to you?”

Boom smirked, eyes crinkling. “You say that like it’s easy.”

Smart smiled, but didn’t look away this time. “Nothing about you is.” He wrapped his arms around Boom and pulled him into an embrace. “Can we stay like this all day, hm? Just today?”

“Hnnn…” Boom nuzzled against Smart’s neck - he seemed to fit there perfectly. “You want to stay in bed and have sex with me all day? I might not be able to walk tomorrow.”

How Boom can look so innocent and say things like that unabashed was beyond Smart. But he played along. “Well, I could always carry you to the fan event.”

“Hoii!” Boom slapped his chest playfully.

“You know…the fan event is only tomorrow. Let’s spend today together…just us…” Smart said, his voice young and small. Would Boom agree?

Boom’s grin softened. “Just us, huh? That sounds… dangerously tempting.” 

“We could go somewhere…” Smart gazed into Boom’s eyes pleadingly with a puppy-dog look. 

“So we’re not staying in bed all day hm?” Boom chuckled. “The crew are expecting us to go out with them today…”

“We’ll call in a sickie.”

Boom’s eyes twinkled with a plan. “I know just the place.”

Smart leaned in, curiosity lighting up his face, nodding even before he knew where Boom was suggesting.

“Somewhere away from all this noise—no cameras, no fans, just quiet.”

He traced lazy circles on Smart’s hand.

“You in?”

Smart nodded eagerly, all in. If he had a tail, he would be wagging.

“Anywhere with you.”

—

The shinkansen rolled quietly across the scenic green squares of fields towards their destination. Outside the window, the patchwork of rice paddies and rolling hills stretched like a living painting, each stroke brushed with the soft hues of spring. Smart’s hand found Boom’s without a word, fingers curling naturally as the world outside slipped by. Quietly, Boom let his head rest on Smart’s shoulders. 

When the train slowed and finally stopped, they stepped onto the platform at Kusatsu, greeted by a crisp breeze that carried the faint scent of sulphur from the nearby hot springs. The village was a blend of old wooden inns and winding cobblestone streets, wrapped in the kind of quiet charm that made time feel slow and gentle. It was like a scene out of a Ghibli movie. 

They wandered through the winding streets, the air tinged with steam and the faint murmur of flowing water nearby. Lanterns swung gently in the breeze, casting soft pools of light over the uneven stones beneath their feet.

Boom’s eyes caught a glimpse of a tiny shop tucked between two inns, its wooden sign hand-painted with delicate calligraphy. The window display was simple but inviting—rows of handcrafted ceramics, small paper fans, and intricate wooden trinkets.

Smart slipped inside first, drawn to a small shelf of pottery—miniature glazed sake cups painted with subtle sakura blossoms. His fingers hovered over them, then carefully picked out a pair, their soft curves fitting perfectly in his hands.

“Here, P’Boom,” Smart said, holding them out to Boom, a shy smile spreading across his face. “For us. So we can remember today.”

They were only cups but still Boom felt a warm flush reach his cheeks. “Thank you.” It was not easy for a person to make someone Boom’s age feel like he was in the flush of first love. 

Outside, the scent of grilled skewers and sweet soy sauce drifted from a nearby food stall. Boom’s eyes lit up. “Let’s get something to eat. I’m starving.”

Smart laughed softly and followed him through the narrow street lined with lanterns and wooden signs. They stopped in front of a small yakitori stall, where the vendor expertly flipped skewers over glowing charcoal embers.

Boom literally ordered everything on the menu and gorged himself. 

—

The sky had deepened to an inky navy, stars scattered like delicate brush strokes across the heavens. Inside the private onsen room, warm steam curled lazily in the air, blurring the edges of the wooden walls and casting a soft, golden glow.

Smart and Boom sank into the hot water, the heat wrapping around them like a tender embrace. The scent of mineral-rich water mingled with the faint fragrance of pine from the open window, where the night breeze whispered through the trees.

Smart’s hand found Boom’s beneath the surface, fingers tracing gentle patterns that sent shivers through the older man’s skin despite the warmth. Boom’s breath hitched, eyes dark and unreadable as they met Smart’s.

Steam curled softly around them as they settled deeper into the warm water, the night outside a quiet hush broken only by the gentle splash of the spring. The wooden walls of the private onsen room glowed amber in the lantern light, cocooning them away from the outside world.

Smart exhaled slowly, eyes tracing the curve of Boom’s shoulder. “So… how did you even get into BL dramas?” he asked in curiosity.

Boom smiled. “Honestly? It was an accident. My first audition was for a completely different genre. But a role came up, and the director saw something in me—said I had the right look, the right feel. My family wasn’t sure at first.” He shrugged. 

Smart nodded thoughtfully. “Same here. My friends teased me endlessly. ‘You? In BL?’ they’d say.” He paused, swirling the water around his fingers. “Do you think people see us differently because of it?”

Boom’s eyes softened. “Maybe. But those who matter don’t. Besides…” he added, grinning, “we get to tell stories that make people feel less alone. That’s worth it.”

At times, the older man surprised Smart with the depth of his words. Then he tilted his head, his voice dropping quieter. “If you don’t mind me asking, P’Boom… are you…gay, bi… something else?” Smart asked.

Boom met his gaze steadily. “Hmm… why don’t you tell me first?” Smart was always convincing on screen and during fanservice, but Boom’s instincts told him otherwise — that Smart was actually straight.

“Honestly…I’ve always dated girls but I’ve never been as attracted to a woman as I am to you. I’m not sure what that says about me.” He paused.

Boom expected to see uncertainty in Smart’s eyes, but instead he found them deep, warm — as if they wanted to swallow Boom whole in their brown pools. 

“I guess we don’t need to have all the answers tonight.” Instead, it was Boom’s voice that wavered as Smart closed the distance between them.

The warmth of Smart’s breath brushed against Boom’s ear, sending a shiver down his spine. Without a word, Smart’s hands slid around Boom’s waist, pulling him closer until their bodies pressed together. The steam from the hot spring wrapped around them like a soft, warm veil, blurring the world outside this perfect moment.

Boom’s heart hammered in his chest, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, he leaned into the touch, trusting the quiet strength behind Smart’s movements. Smart’s lips found the curve of Boom’s neck, leaving gentle, lingering kisses as his hands slid lower, tracing the smooth line of Boom’s hips.

Smart’s hands slipped to the front and stroked Boom until he was gasping into the night air. The heat between them grew, mixing with the steam rising from the water, making every touch feel electric. Boom’s fingers tangled in Smart’s damp hair, pulling him closer as desire hummed through their bodies.

Smart’s mouth trailed down Boom’s neck to his collarbone, teasing and tasting, before his hands explored further, cupping and kneading with gentle urgency. Boom’s breath hitched, body arching toward Smart and jerking as he reached climax. 

With careful, steady movements, Smart pressed himself closer from behind, his body aligning perfectly with Boom’s. One hand steadied the older man at his hips while the other slipped between the cheeks of his buttocks. Boom’s body stiffened briefly as Smart eased a finger inside him.

“Smart…” Boom’s voice was strained with longing.

“Shh…” Smart hushed softly. He knew Boom was probably still sore from last night. Gently, he guided himself deeper, groaning quietly at the tight warmth that welcomed him.

“Ah!” Boom’s fingers curled into the edge of the wooden bath, breath ragged as he felt Smart throbbing within him. Smart’s pace quickened gently, matching Boom’s rising need, until both were lost in the shared rhythm—intense, tender, and wholly theirs.

The night wrapped around them like a cocoon, every sound—their soft gasps, the splash of water, the thundering pulse of their hearts—fading into the background, leaving only the raw connection that bound them in that moment.

When the waves of release finally settled, Smart held Boom close, their bodies still pressed together as they floated in the warmth of the water. Boom rested his head against Smart’s shoulder, a small, contented smile playing on his lips.

“No regrets?” Smart whispered, voice low and hopeful.

Boom laughed softly, eyes closed as he leaned back against Smart. “None at all.”

They stayed like that, their bodies intertwined, the steam curling around them as the world outside seemed a universe away.

—

To the next chapter

I had so much fun thinking up interactions between Smart and Boom(they make it easy with all their fanservice). If you read until here, thank you and I hope you liked it. Please leave me some comments whether you liked it or not. If anyone’s interested, I will come back with a third installment~!

Chapter Text

When the Light Burns: 1

The rain slammed down in sheets against the windows, thick and relentless, drumming like a thousand impatient fingers. Below, Bangkok shimmered in the storm — lights flickering in pink and blue, motorbikes slicing through dangerously narrow gaps, and cars crawling through the gridlock of the city’s infamous jam.

From the twelfth floor, it looked beautiful. And brutal. A heaving city pretending not to ache.

In the air-conditioned room, a sheen of sweat glistened on Boom’s bare back. His breaths came in shudders as Smart thrust into him from behind. Their bodies had grown accustomed to each other since Japan, moving together in a rhythmic dance, precise and effortless. Boom knew the telltale signs of Smart nearing his peak, and with a swift, practiced motion, he guided Smart’s hand to the front of his body.

When it was over, they collapsed together on the couch, sticky and breathless, limbs tangled, their breaths uneven and mingled. Boom draped himself over Smart’s body, letting the younger man’s fingers trace lazy patterns along the small of his back.

Outside, the city kept moving — honking, flashing, drowning.

It had been weeks since they returned from Japan.

Sometimes, in the quiet moments between the rush of their separate lives, Boom found his mind drifting back to that night in Tokyo. The night Smart had suddenly confronted him, words tumbling out with a raw honesty that surprised them both. Their confessions laid the foundation for something neither had expected.

The sweet, unguarded time they had spent together in Kusatsu still felt like a fragile jewel, a brief escape from the relentless pressures of their public lives. A moment when the masks fell away, and they could simply be.

But here, in the heart of Bangkok’s relentless pulse, the weight of uncertainty pressed close once more. The city outside roared and rained, but inside, the question lingered unspoken: what would become of them now that they were back to reality?

The rain had quietened down to a soft patter. Smart's fingers continued to stroke Boom’s back idly but there was something distracted in his touch now.

“Can I stay the night?” he asked, voice barely above a murmur.

Boom didn’t answer right away. He felt it — the question hanging in the air heavier than it should’ve been. It wasn’t the first time Smart had stayed over. After Japan, it had happened more than a few times, the same routine of slipping behind closed doors and shutting out the world for a while. But this time, the pause lingered.

Boom shifted slightly, just enough to sit up, resting his weight on one elbow. He looked at Smart, saw the young man watching him with those calm, searching eyes.

“You’ve got a photoshoot tomorrow morning, don’t you?” Boom asked, gently.

Smart smiled — small, almost amused — but it didn’t reach his eyes. “So do you.”

“That’s true,” Boom said, deflecting with a shrug. “Just don’t want you tired.”

But Smart heard it. That sliver of hesitation. It wasn't about sleep.

He sat up too, resting his forearms on his knees, looking at the rain-drenched city through the floor-to-ceiling windows. The light from the street signs flickered across his face in pink and electric violet.

“Boom,” he said after a pause, quiet but clear. “You’re pulling away.”

Boom didn’t respond right away. He exhaled slowly and reached for a glass of water on the coffee table, buying himself a moment. Maybe two.

“It’s not that simple,” he said finally, his voice low.

Smart turned to him again, studying him like he was trying to read lines not written in any script. “It was simple in Japan.”

Boom almost smiled — almost. The memory of that quiet town, the steam curling around them, without eyes on them, away from the world — it still sat inside him like a warm ache.

“Japan wasn’t here,” Boom replied. “This…” He gestured vaguely around the apartment, at the windows, at the thunder beyond them. “This is.” Real life.

Neither said anything for a long moment. The only sound was the rain hitting against the windows.

Smart leaned back into the couch, his jaw tightening slightly. “If this is just…sex for you, you can just tell me.”

Boom’s head snapped toward him. “Don’t do that.”

“Then what is it?” Smart’s voice was low, not angry but tired. “Because I feel like I’m the only one standing in it with both feet. And I don’t know how much longer I can stand here alone.”

Boom opened his mouth. Closed it. The truth was, he didn’t know either. He wanted to tell Smart to stay. He wanted to reach for him and pull him back into the safety of the night. But there was a weight sitting in his chest — a fear, a question he hadn’t been able to answer since Japan: What if this doesn’t last?

“I never said it was just sex,” Boom muttered.

“No, you never say anything,” Smart shot back. “You just pull away and expect me not to notice.”

Boom flinched, his gaze fixed on some point past Smart.

Smart let out a breath, struggling to keep the tremor out of his voice. “You made me believe something real was happening between us. In Japan, it felt like…” He shook his head. “Like maybe we were building something. Like maybe we finally stopped pretending.”

He glanced at Boom, but the older man wouldn’t meet his eyes.

“And now we’re back here, and it’s like you’re rewriting everything in real time. Like Japan was just some… fantasy you want to forget ever happened.”

Boom’s shoulders tensed.

Smart leaned forward slightly, voice barely above a whisper. “So what was it, then? Just a break from the noise? Something you let yourself want because it didn’t count?”

Boom’s mouth opened — but again, nothing came out.

Smart stared at him, the silence twisting inside him like a slow knife. “I just wish you’d tell me if I imagined it all. Because this halfway thing — it’s killing me.”

Boom didn’t answer. Couldn’t.

Smart watched him for a moment longer, the hurt settling in behind his eyes, before he stood — quiet now, resigned — and began gathering his clothes with slow, practiced motions.

“I’ll get a cab,” he said.

Boom watched him dress, his mouth dry. “Smart…” 

But Smart didn’t stop. He pulled on his hoodie, eyes shadowed by something unreadable.

“Goodnight, P’Boom.”

And then he was gone — the door clicking shut behind him, the sound barely louder than the rain.

Boom sat there alone, the warmth of Smart’s body still lingering on the cushions, and the rain continuing to fall outside like a thousand tiny goodbyes.

—

The rain hadn’t let up. It fell in slanted sheets, needling into his hoodie as he walked down the narrow street from Boom’s apartment building. He could’ve gotten a Grab. But his long legs moved before his thoughts could catch up.

Each step was fast, automated.

The city around him was its usual chaos — tuk-tuks sputtering through puddles, food stalls steaming under makeshift tarps, traffic lights blinking uselessly at the unmoving gridlock. Bangkok didn’t stop for weather, or heartbreak.

Not that this was heartbreak. Not really. Not yet.

But something had shifted. He felt it in the silence Boom hadn’t filled. In the way his arms had wrapped around him after, warm but not wanting. In the pause — that one damn pause — before answering a simple question.

Can I stay the night?

Why was that even a hard question to answer?

Smart tilted his face to the sky, letting the rain pelt his skin. He hadn’t expected a yes, not really. But he hadn’t expected the sting of a maybe-not either. He’d felt it even before he asked — in the way Boom looked at him like he was trying to protect something. Or maybe like he was trying not to hope for something he wasn’t sure he could keep.

Back in Japan, it had been easy to believe. In the quiet of the hot springs, in Boom’s laugh echoing off narrow streets, in the way their bodies spoke without hesitation. It had felt like falling — gentle, steady, almost safe.

But here, under Bangkok’s heavy sky, Smart sensed the shift in Boom’s mood and an emotional distance despite their physical proximity. Smart wasn’t sure if they were still falling or already bracing for the inevitable landing.

He didn’t want to regret asking. He didn’t want Boom to regret hesitating. But the question still hung in his chest, unanswered.

What are we?

The rain kept coming, soaking through the fabric on his shoulders, plastering his fringe to his forehead. He let it obscure his sight.

He wasn’t sure if he was ready for Boom’s answer.

Maybe that was the truth of it — not just Boom’s hesitation, but his own. They’d touched each other in ways that felt honest, but neither of them had dared to name it. Not while the cameras were still rolling, while the world still expected their smiles on cue and flirtations rehearsed.

The rain blurred the edges of the city, and for a moment, Smart let himself drift in the wash of it - just another figure on a wet Bangkok sidewalk.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, a sharp vibration against his thigh. He pulled it out with wet fingers. A Line message from their manager — a reminder about tomorrow’s PR shoot, the timing for hair and makeup, a suggestion to post something flirty with Boom before bed.

He stared at the message, thumb hovering over the screen. The gap between what they were and what they were supposed to be stretched a little wider.

With a sigh, he slipped the phone back into his pocket.

Whatever this thing with Boom was, it didn’t belong to their fans. It didn’t belong to the show. It didn’t even belong to Japan anymore.

It was here now. Between sky and traffic. Between longing and fear. Between what they couldn’t say, and what they couldn’t stop feeling.

And he wasn’t sure how long he could carry it alone.

—

The garden was manicured to perfection — soft stone paths, flowering vines, and white iron benches tucked beneath the filtered light of tamarind trees. It was the kind of set that whispered romance in every frame: effortless, curated, dreamy.

Boom was already there — dressed, composed, and chatting easily with the photographer. His smile was natural, his posture relaxed, his eyes sharp and clear behind the soft sweep of his bangs. If last night had weighed on him, he’d tucked it away somewhere no one could see. Not even Smart.

He wore a pale linen shirt, collar open just enough, and cream trousers. He laughed when someone joked he looked like a retired actor-turned-winery owner, and the crew melted a little. Boom owned the set with effortless charm.

Smart arrived a few minutes later — not late enough to be outwardly unprofessional, but just enough to draw glances. His hoodie was half-zipped, hair still damp from the rain or the rushed shower he’d taken to rinse it off. His expression was unreadable. He didn’t meet Boom’s eyes.

They changed him quickly — soft-buttoned shirt, sleeves rolled up, pressed trousers. The stylist ran a comb through his hair as a PA handed him iced coffee. “You okay?” she whispered. “Did you sleep at all?”

Smart nodded vaguely. “A little.”

Layers of concealer and foundation later, the shoot began.

Boom took the lead. He settled on the picnic blanket under a tree, laughing lightly as he brushed aside the lock of hair that fell over his eye. When the director asked for couple shots, Boom reached out a hand toward Smart. “Nong Smart, come keep me company,” he said with that familiar lilt.

Like last night did not happen.

Smart crossed the grass slowly, forcing his limbs to obey muscle memory.

They sat close, posed, smiled.

“Beautiful,” the director called out. “Let’s go for something soft — Boom, lean on Smart a little. Smart, give us the look like you’re trying not to fall harder.”

Boom leaned in. His head brushed Smart’s shoulder, and his hand slid naturally to Smart’s knee, thumb moving in a small, circular rhythm that only the two of them could feel.

It would look perfect on camera.

But Smart was still somewhere else. Somewhere between the echo of last night’s silence and the weight of Boom’s hesitation. He held the pose. He smiled.

But the unanswered question still pulsed under his skin.

While filming TopForm , Smart had learned that Boom was a hell of an actor. It was a wonder he hadn’t made it big sooner. Now, he was truly amazed at the older man’s acting caliber.

Smart could see no trace of the tension from last night on Boom’s face. Boom looked at him with warmth, clung to his arm, pressed his cheek close — like nothing had shifted between them.

And in that moment, Smart felt a surge of anger.

Anger at Boom for being so damn composed while he was struggling inside.  Anger at Boom for making it look so easy — when Smart was still tangled in doubts, questions, and a growing ache that Boom didn’t seem to share.

It wasn’t fair.

Smart clenched his fists, forcing his breath steady. He hated feeling this way, but the fire inside wouldn’t go out.

“Ready for the next shot?” Boom’s voice was gentle, but now it felt like a challenge.

Smart forced a smile, trying to suppress the storm beneath. Acting was their job — but maybe the real acting was pretending this was nothing between them.

—

to be continued

Author notes: The mood has shifted in this chapter - time for emotional turmoil for our two favourite boys! This chapter was getting long so it is in 2 parts. Please stay with me until the end!

Chapter Text

When the Light Burns: 2

Boom sat alone in the soft glow of his living room, one foot propped on the edge of the coffee table, an untouched glass of water sweating onto a coaster beside him. His phone lay dark on the cushion next to him. Smart hadn’t messaged. Neither had he.

It had been a week since the photoshoot. A week of silence. Of pretending he was too busy to notice.

But of course he noticed.

Smart hadn’t reached out, and Boom hadn’t either. Not because he didn’t want to. But because he didn’t know what he’d say. Or what he’d be ready to hear in return.

The last time Boom had been in a BL series, it was with someone else. They’d smiled, flirted, rehearsed skinship poses. But the spark — the kind that makes even fabricated love feel real — hadn’t been there. The series did okay. Not great. Not terrible. Just... forgettable. Off screen, the fanservice felt forced.

He’d chalked it up to timing. Or chemistry. Or maybe that he wasn’t leading-man material in this genre.

Then TopForm happened. And Smart.

The chemistry was undeniable. Effortless. Electric.

He told himself it was good acting. That’s what he’d told everyone. But deep down, he knew it was more than that. He hadn’t expected it to bleed off-screen, hadn’t meant for the teasing touches and inside jokes to feel like anything real. But in Japan, when Smart reached out to him… something had cracked open.

Smart had touched him like he was reaching for the truth.

And Boom had wanted it. Badly.

But now… now that they were back in Bangkok, back in the noise and the cameras and the exhausting grind of PR obligations, back in real life — Boom couldn’t stop asking himself if it had all been a mistake. Not the feelings, no. The feelings were real. It was the indulgence of them that scared him.

He was thirty-three. He’d been around long enough to know how quickly everything could vanish. A few more years, and he wouldn’t be cast in BL anymore. A few more headlines, and the fantasy of Boom and Smart could sour into gossip. Or worse — controversy.

Was Boom clinging to Smart for the fame? For the promise of another season, another show, another wave of success that might stretch his time in the spotlight a little longer?

Or was it more than that?

Could something real — something honest — really fit into this world they lived in?

Their lives were a whirlwind of cameras, scripts, and carefully crafted public images. A place where lines blurred between who they were and who they pretended to be. Where even genuine moments could be dissected, commodified, or erased with the next headline.

He wondered if their connection could survive outside the bubble of staged scenes and controlled settings.

He couldn’t pinpoint when admiration turned into something else — when the affection meant for the cameras began to linger after cut was called. But somewhere along the way, being with Smart started to feel real. Not staged, not promotional. Just... real.

And maybe that was the part that unsettled him the most — how easily Smart made him forget where the lines were.

It terrified Boom.

Because Smart was twenty-three.

Smart had time. Talent. That unshakable brightness people wanted to follow. He was just at the beginning of it all — hungry, ambitious, still discovering the boundaries of his own charm.

Boom wasn’t old. Not really. But in their world, he could already feel the edges closing in — younger actors rising, offers narrowing, meticulous plans about fresh pairings beginning before the current season had even ended.

What if Smart didn’t know what he wanted yet?

What if he woke up one day and realized he didn’t want this — didn’t want him — and Boom had mistaken fleeting chemistry for something lasting?

The thought knotted in Boom’s chest.

He’d been in this industry long enough to know how fast things changed. How easy it was to blur performance with emotion. And Smart… Smart still had the luxury of mistaking the two.

But Boom couldn’t afford to.

—

The club buzzed with energy, music pounding through the sleek, dark space. Tonight was a celebration — a mutual friend’s birthday. The party was in full swing—laughter, clinking glasses, and the occasional shout over the music. The music grew bolder, basslines sinking into the floor like a second heartbeat. The birthday cake had come and gone, the group scattered—some lingering at the table, others drawn to the pulse of the dance floor.

Boom stood at the bar, sleek in a black button-down shirt left unfastened at the top, revealing a glimpse of his pale, muscular chest. The fabric hugged his frame, all crisp lines and quiet confidence. His glass of whiskey caught the dim light, untouched. But his gaze was anything but still—it tracked one person across the room.

Smart.

Smart was a vision. Slim-fitting black trousers, a cropped silky shirt the color of deep garnet that shimmered with movement, buttons undone just enough to hint at toned skin beneath. His hair was perfectly tousled, lips glossed, the smouldering lead character look.

He was laughing now, that easy, unguarded kind that made heads turn. The tension from earlier seemed to have melted off him. 

A pretty woman appeared—young, bold, draped in something slinky and silver. A friend-of-a-friend, she was already familiar with the group. Her smile was slow, practiced, as she caught Smart’s wrist. “Come on, hotshot. Show me what those hips can do.”

Boom saw it all unfold from his perch: the way Smart laughed, the way he let himself be tugged toward the dance floor—not reluctant, not eager, just… open.

Smart moved like he was made for it. He had always been a good dancer. The lights flickered off his sharp jawline, sweat glistened at his collarbone, his movements smooth, precise. 

The woman danced with him, slender hips rolling to the beat, closing in with the ease of someone used to being wanted. She wasn’t pushy, but she knew exactly how to hover in that electric edge of flirtation. Her fingers brushed teasingly across his chest. Her body pressed near his. She whispered something into his ear and Smart laughed in response.

Boom’s grip on his glass tightened until he thought it might shatter.

He couldn’t take his eyes off them. Smart wasn’t pushing her away. He wasn’t pulling her in either. He just… danced. Free, careless, beautiful.

Boom downed what was left of his drink, shoved the glass on the bar, and pushed through the crowd, heat burning up his throat.

He found them on the dancefloor, the woman’s hands now on Smart’s waist. Smart’s eyes flicked up—just briefly—and locked with Boom’s.

Boom didn’t smile.

He stepped in, firm hand on Smart’s shoulder, pulling him back a step. His voice was low, almost lost under the music. “Enough.”

Smart blinked, still catching his breath. “What are you doing?”

Boom’s gaze snapped to the woman, sharp. “Find someone else to dance with.”

She raised an eyebrow, not backing down. “Since when did you start giving him orders?”

Boom didn’t look at her again. He was staring at Smart, jaw tight, chest rising and falling with the kind of restraint that only barely held.

“Boom,” Smart said, voice just as tight. “You’re making a scene.”

Boom scoffed, short and bitter. “Am I? Funny. You didn’t seem to care when she had her hands all over you.”

Smart stepped back fully now, anger flashing in his eyes. “She’s not the one confusing the hell out of me.”

The music thundered around them, lights flashing in disorienting bursts of red and violet.

Boom said nothing.

Smart took a breath, jaw clenched. “If you want me to stop acting like we’re something, then maybe stop acting like you care.”

By now, a few pairs of eyes were looking at the exchange. Their friends—scattered around the club—had started to notice. Conversations paused, drinks lowered, subtle glances exchanged. The thrum of music didn’t stop, but a different kind of pulse ran through the air now.

“Boom,” Smart said, voice low and taut. “This isn’t the place.”

Boom’s eyes flicked briefly to the others—then back to Smart. Still burning. Still unresolved.

“You made it the place,” Boom said, and there was something raw in his voice now. 

Smart’s breath hitched. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“It means,” Boom said, stepping in close, too close, “you can’t do this - pulling me in, lighting me up, telling me that we are real then acting like this when someone else looks at you like you’re a goddamn fantasy.”

Smart stared at him, stunned in disbelief at Boom’s accusation after he pushed him away. “I never pretended,” he said, voice almost seething. “ You’re the one who made it all feel like a lie.”

A silence fell between them. A rupture in the sea of pounding bass.

Smart took a step back. “You wanna keep pretending this isn’t real? Fine. But don’t show up and act like I’m the one playing games.”

Smart turned, leaving Boom in the strobe-drenched dark, the crowd swallowing him in a blur of bodies and beat. He shouldered through the crowd, chest tight, eyes trained on the glowing EXIT sign like it was the only stable thing left in the night. 

He wasn’t sure what had just happened—but he knew one thing.

He couldn’t take it in there.

He shoved open the door, the heavy bass muffling instantly as the humid Bangkok night air slapped against his flushed face. 

Footsteps followed.

“Smart.”

Smart didn’t stop walking. He turned the corner into the alleyway, away from the throng of people in front of the club. The pavement was uneven, the alley beside the club dimly lit by a flickering bulb overhead.

“Smart,” Boom snapped again, voice closer now as he caught up with the taller man. “Don’t you dare walk away from me.”

Smart turned sharply, eyes flashing. “Why not? You’ve done it enough times.” Not physically but that was what Boom had been doing emotionally since they returned to Thailand. 

Boom came to a stop a few paces away, chest rising and falling beneath the open line of his black shirt, which now clung slightly from the heat. “You think that’s fair?”

“Why are you doing this?” Smart stepped closer, breath coming fast. “You say one thing with your eyes and something else with your mouth. I touch you, you flinch. I leave, and you chase me. What am I supposed to do with that?!”

Boom froze.

Smart’s voice dropped, raw. “You think I’m not scared too? You think I don’t know what this could cost us? But at least I’m not running from it.”

“You think I’m running?” Boom snapped back, voice cracking. “You have no idea what I’ve been trying to hold together.”

“Then tell me ! Tell me something real for once, Boom, because I’m tired of the act.” His voice rose, the words tumbling, unfiltered. “You’re a brilliant liar. I just don’t know anymore if you’re lying to them or to me.” Or if Japan was just fanservice too. Or if Boom got carried away and he was regretting it.

Boom flinched like Smart had slapped him.

Their breathing filled the narrow alley — shallow, rough, loud in the silence.

Boom's voice was a whisper. “How can you say that?”

“Because I don’t know where I stand with you,” Smart said, quieter now, betrayed by the tremble of his lower lip. “One minute, you look at me like I’m the only thing that exists, and the next you vanish behind that perfect smile like none of it was real. Like I made it all up.”

Their eyes locked.

Something unspoken passed between them — something aching and uncontainable.

Smart’s jaw clenched. “I need to know what you’re thinking. One moment, you want me. Next, you’re gone. Then you're like this now…” He motioned vaguely to Boom’s closeness, to the way he’d chased him out here. “I’m losing my mind.”

Boom inhaled shakily, voice suddenly sharper — not out of anger, but desperation. “Do you think this is easy for me? That I’m just—what? Stringing you along for fun? That I don’t replay every look, every word between us, wondering what part was real and what part I just wanted to be?”

Smart blinked.

“You ask what I’m thinking?” Boom’s voice was gaining momentum now.  “I think about you all the time. Even when I try not to. I think about how it felt in Japan when we were just us for a second, and then I think about how quickly it all felt too dangerous to keep…I’m scared, Smart.”

“Of what?” Smart breathed.

Boom stepped closer, trembling but honest now, his eyes looking into Smart’s. “Of falling for someone who feels like home… when the whole world is watching and calling it a performance. Of loving you in the wrong way, or the wrong time. Of ruining everything if I let myself want what I want.”

Smart just stared at him — stunned into stillness.

“You said I flinch when you touch me,” Boom whispered. “It’s because every time you do, I have to remind myself not to fall in love with you. Not too obviously. Not too fast.”

Boom’s voice cracked. And then, soft — like it hurt to say:

“I just don’t know how... how the love I want with you would fit into this world.”

Boom’s words dulled the sharp edges of Smart’s anger. The younger man looked at Boom. Really looked at him. Eyes rimmed red, chest trembling, voice still echoing in the small alley between them.And then — carefully, like approaching something breakable — Smart stepped forward and wrapped his arms around him.

He pulled Boom into a hug.

Boom didn’t resist. He let his body melt against Smart’s taller frame, his forehead dropped to Smart’s shoulder, his breath hot and uneven against the curve of Smart’s neck.

Smart held him tighter. “P’Boom…I don’t know the answer to that. I just know that all I want and need is you. And for me, that’s enough no matter what problems the world throws at us. I want it to be enough for you too…” If Boom wanted to think that he was a naive kid in love, that was fine by him - Smart believed in his own feelings for the man. 

Boom looked up at Smart, searching his face and finding nothing but warmth and sincerity…and the love which Smart always looked at him with. His Smart. “You’re still so young. What if you change your mind when the world starts to push back? When things get harder? When you see how people really are?”

Smart’s breath hitched. He swallowed the lump in his throat and met Boom’s eyes with steady resolve. “Then I’ll grow up with you. I won’t run away. You don’t have to be scared of that alone.”

Boom’s breath hitched too, but for a different reason. The rawness in Smart’s voice had stripped away every layer of doubt, leaving only the pulsing heat of the moment between them. He closed the narrow space, his fingers tangling in Smart’s hair, pulling him closer.

Their lips met with a slow, urgent pressure then deepening into a fierce, desperate need. Boom’s hands slid down Smart’s back, tracing the sharp planes beneath the fabric of his shirt, burning skin pressed against burning skin.

Smart melted against him, hands clutching Boom’s shoulders, anchoring himself as the world outside the alley blurred into nothing but the taste and heat of Boom’s kiss.

But the distant pounding of the club’s music, the faint sound of passing cars, reminded them both that this was still public. 

Reluctantly Boom pulled away, breathing shakily. “We are in an alley…” he said but his body hummed with desire for Smart. 

“I know…” Smart smiled, the cheeky glint returning to his eyes as he brought Boom’s hand to his lips and kissed the fingers - slow, deliberate.

“Someone might see us,” Boom pointed out. 

“You didn’t seem to mind when you were causing a scene in the club,” Smart teased. 

Boom’s cheeks flushed, a mixture of embarrassment and lingering heat spreading across his skin. “That was different,” he muttered, though the smirk tugging at his lips betrayed him.

Smart chuckled softly, stepping closer until their bodies nearly touched again. “Different, huh? Seems to me you don’t mind making a scene when it’s with me.”

“Hoi… not here,” Boom whispered, cheeks flushed, glancing nervously over his shoulder at the dimly lit street beyond the alley. “Too many eyes.”

Smart nodded, eyes sparkling with mischief and something softer beneath it. “Then let’s get out of here.”

Boom smiled, his hand slipping into Smart’s as they slipped back through the shadows, moving quickly but quietly down the street. The city lights blurred around them, but the only thing they saw clearly was each other.

When they got to Boom’s apartment, the door barely closed behind them before they tumbled in a messy heap onto his bed. Their limbs tangled together as they undressed each other in a heated frenzy — buttons popped, zippers slid down, clothes fell to the floor in a chaotic trail.

Smart’s lips found Boom’s neck, trailing slow, teasing kisses that sent shivers through Boom’s spine. Boom’s hands roamed, memorizing the familiar curves, the warmth beneath his fingertips.

Every touch, every breath was electric, a delicious collision of desire and something deeper — the promise of something more than just this night.

Their bodies pressed closer, skin to skin, the world outside fading into silence as they lost themselves in each other.

Smart’s hands moved slowly, reverent almost, as if discovering Boom all over again. His fingers traced the line of Boom’s jaw, then slid down to cup the curve of his hip. Boom’s breath hitched, eyes fluttering closed for a heartbeat before snapping open to lock with Smart’s—dark, intense, unwavering.

“I want to remember every inch of you,” Smart whispered, his voice low and full of desire. His eyes held Boom’s like they were the only thing in the universe that mattered.

Boom’s pulse thundered in his ears. He reached up, fingers trembling slightly as they curled into Smart’s hair, pulling him down for a kiss that was slow, deep, and searing. Their lips moved together with a hunger that spoke of days spent apart and nights imagined.

Between kisses, their eyes never left each other’s—speaking a language beyond words. Their emotions and vulnerabilities —all laid bare in those glances.

Smart’s mouth trailed down Boom’s neck, leaving a path of fire, while Boom’s hands explored the planes of Smart’s back, feeling the steady strength beneath the skin. Every touch was electric, every look a silent confession.

They moved together, slow and deliberate, savoring every moment — every look, every sigh, every shiver — as if this night was theirs alone to hold onto forever.

Afterward, Smart wrapped his arms around Boom from behind, his chest warm against Boom’s back, chin resting in the crook of his neck. He breathed him in—calm now, content. 

“Earlier,” Smart said softly, “you used the word ‘love.’ In the alley.”

“Hm…?” Boom was still coming down from the haze of orgasm. 

“You said, ‘the love you want with me.” Smart smiled. 

Boom’s ears and neck flushed red. With Smart, he blushed so easily. “I did, didn’t I?”

Smart waited, saying nothing—just holding him, letting the silence wrap around them like a second blanket.

Boom turned his head slightly, enough to glance back at him. “I wasn’t trying to make it a big thing. It just… slipped out.”

Smart’s smile deepened. “But you meant it?”

Boom looked down at their entwined fingers, his thumb brushing gently over Smart’s. “Yeah,” he said, soft but certain. “I meant it.” Then quieter, barely more than a whisper: “I think I’ve been meaning it for a while.”

Smart didn’t say anything at first. He just leaned in, gently turning Boom’s face toward him. Their eyes met in the dim light, and for a moment, neither of them breathed. 

Then Smart kissed him. 

Not hungry or desperate like their earlier kisses. This kiss was steady. 

Certain. 

“I love you too,” the younger man whispered. 

Boom’s breath caught, a small, stunned laugh slipping from his lips as his eyes fluttered closed. He reached up and cupped Smart’s face, pulling him in again — just one more kiss, softer this time, a thank-you and a promise rolled into one.

Outside, the city never stopped moving. But in that room, in that moment, time stood still — and love, quietly, fully, finally, took its place.

—

THE END

Thank you for reading until the end. I hope you enjoyed it! Please leave me a comment to let me know what you think~