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First and Khaotung were not together that morning. 

Khaotung went home last night to see his babies after being away for days because, well he stayed at First condo the whole time. 

So he and First were texting early in the morning as soon as they woke up. Well, they miss each other’s company already. Obviously. 

He was switching from Line to X to IG, and was planning to post a story, but it got interrupted when First messages would pop up and he would switch back to the messaging app again. 

First was asking Khao to send him a picture of himself that morning, because he found Khaotung to be very very cute when he woke up with his grumpy face, and hair a mess. 

First: Teng, please send me your cute face, since you won’t answer my video call. At least a picture, pretty pleaseeeee? Na? 

Khao: You’re really using that on me? That’s my line teng!

But luckily, that morning, Khao woke up very bright and energetic and decided to tease First. 

He scrolled through his gallery and there looked for a photo he can use to tease his best friend.  He came across a lot of photos of First, he couldn’t help the smile and the blush that crept his face seeing his best friend's cute, silly, or hot poses.  Went on to scroll some more and he saw his pets, his sister and her friends, and mom and their running or tennis buddies, and just everyone. 

He couldn't find the right photo so he scrolled some more and came across older photos with friends and First. He thought they both looked so cute and young.

He treasured a lot of photos from old times with everyone and some stored on his computer. 

There was one photo of First that he really liked and beside was a female friend. Thinking he selected First' photo and immediately clicked on ‘Ok’ button to share through what he thought was the messaging app. He had a silly smile on his face but when the screen loaded up and showed an IG story posted and the photo popped up, he immediately panicked. 

Incorrect photo.

Incorrect app. 

Instead of it being sent to the message app where it was supposed to be, it got posted on his stories. 

Took him a fraction of seconds to realize but when he did immediately deleted it. 

But shortly after, notifications started popping up. Lots of them. He had not opened any yet. However, he suddenly got nervous and called First who swiftly answered on the first ring. 

“So you changed your mind and wan-“ was cut off when he heard the worried voice on the other end of the line. 

“Fir, Fir, I-I think, I messed up.” Khao said in his low voice, he sounded like he’s about to cry. 

First got up from his bed so fast, “Teng, what happened? Hey, are you okay?” 

“I-I accidentally posted a picture of, of… our friend. I-I deleted it immediately and I think some people saw it.” 

He was breathing heavily. From First perception, Khaotung is struggling and might even pass out. 

“Teng, wait for me, I’ll be there in 15. Don’t, DON’T open anything on social media or messages or calls. Got it?”

“O-okay.” 

And it began. 

Past 5 minutes from that post, his phone continued to ping nonstop from all across social media platforms. It just increased his anxiety.

He put his phone on DND and was gonna turn it off when a message popped from their Manager, P’Som. 

Thanawat, call me.

Damn, he thought. P’Som used his government name. Means, trouble. Big one.

He could feel it, a scolding coming in. 

He contemplated responding. But, he had to answer this. 

He exhaled, trying to calm himself and to even his voice and pressed the call button. 

“P’…” He said, voice more than a whisper. 

“Khaotung,” she sighed softly. She could hear the concern in Khaotung’s voice. 

She knew how this would affect him. He is a calm and collected person and strong, yes, but he is a softie, and loved his fans so much, so it mattered to him when the fans started to fight each other, have fanwars, but worst of all, when fans started to hate him. 

And the aftermath of something like this, would be a lot. Haters and bashers gonna come out from hiding and would be very vicious in posting everywhere.

“Can you tell me what happened? I received a call from the management.” Said P’Som calmly. 

“Phi, i-it was an accident. I swear I didn’t mean to post that. It was my stupidity…I. It was a photo of a friend.” His voice strained as he tried his best to explain but he was also not sure how it happened. 

“Nong, just calm down for the meantime, you have a schedule today, come to the company an hour earlier.” Instructed P’Som before hanging up and reminding Khaotung not to do anything else.

He stayed in his room and sat calmly, but his insides were shivering from anxiousness, his heart pounding so hard. 

After 5 more minutes when he heard the noise of someone with hurried steps going upstairs and then his door burst open. 

“Teng!”  First, took long strides to reach Khaotung, and embraced him. 

Khaotung, feeling the warmth and comfort in First’s arms, exhaled as if trying to get something out of his system. Closed his eyes and kept his face hidden on the taller’s shoulder. 

“Everything will be fine okay?” First tried to reassure the Khao. He didn’t want to pressure Khaotung to explain exactly what happened, because he could already see it was affecting him—the way his shoulders slumped, his head lowered, and the weary sighs that left him as if he were out of breath.

When he was on his way, he already knew about the chaos—a photo that had been posted and then deleted immediately, made it seem more suspicious in the eyes of haters. Some fans were confused, but haters claimed it was proof of Khaotung having a girlfriend.

Soon, vicious and venomous posts about Khaotung began. He didn’t want Khaotung to see or read any of them. It pained him to scroll through the nasty comments under Khaotung’s IG posts, and the tweets from those who insisted they were right about the rumor way before.

It immediately clicked who they were referring to—a longtime friend whom they rarely saw anymore due to both of their busy schedules.

He didn’t know what kind of picture it was exactly, but that didn’t really matter at the moment. His priority was Khaotung’s state of mind. He knew that if Khaotung read what people had to say, he would take it to heart. 

It would break his heart.

As artists, they were well aware that not everyone would like them. There would always be those who tried to spread chaos and hate. They didn’t show it, but they still felt hurt. They were humans, too.

That thought brought him back to worrying about Khaotung, so he cut the 25-minute drive down to around 12, determined to be by Khaotung’s side as soon as possible.

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.

.

He enveloped Khaotung in his arms, giving a small squeeze to remind the shorter that he was there—that Khaotung is not alone, and would never be.

First gently caressed the back of Khaotung’s head, threading his fingers through his hair, his touch slow and soothing to bring comfort to his best friend. 

He pressed a kiss to Khaotung’s forehead and whispered softly, “Don’t think too much about it. This will pass, okay?” before placing another tender kiss on his hair.

Khaotung just exhaled and had not moved. 

They stayed like that for 10 or more minutes, Khaotung not speaking and First just comforting him.

Their comfortable silence was interrupted when First phone went off. He pulled it out and answered when he saw P’Soms’ name.

Not letting go of the shorter, one arm still wrapped around Khaotung, while his other holds his phone, he was informed to come earlier for their schedule, and that P’Som already told Khaotung a few minutes ago. 

They needed to leave in an hour to reach the company at the designated time.

“Come on, let’s get you up and head to the shower, okay?” the taller said.

Khaotung didn’t move an inch.

First tried again to coax him. “Or do you need help in there?”

“Ow!” First whined when he felt the slap on his arm.

Khao looked up and frowned at First’s audacity to joke around. Still, he knew that First was only trying to cheer him up—and he truly appreciated it. The frown soon softened into a small smile.

Then came the gentlest touch: warm, soft hands cupping his cheeks, sending calm through his entire body.

“It’s gonna be okay,” First reassured him once more, his voice steady with confidence and conviction.

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.

The car ride to the company was tense—or at least, that’s what Khao felt. But First could sense it in his bones too. They were connected so deeply that whatever one of them felt, the other carried it as well. That was why the taller hadn’t let go of Khao’s hand, even as his other hand maneuvered the wheel. 

Today, they had taken First’s car, and even in silence, he made sure to let Khaotung feel his presence with small yet significant gestures.

The moment they arrived, they were immediately called in and directed to the conference room. Inside, people were already waiting—P’Som, the staff, the director, the producer of the new series, and at the head of the table, P’Tha, the CEO of the company.

They took their seats directly across from P’Tha, whose expression was unreadable but the aura spoke of anger. 

“Do you have any idea what you did? What were you thinking, Thanawat?!” The CEO spoke in the midst of silence. 

He leaned forward, eyes sharp like a knife cutting straight through Khaotung. His tone was calm, but it carried steel.

“Do you have any idea what kind of mess you’ve created? A single photo. One mistake and now we’re dealing with chaos across social media, sponsors demanding answers, and fans questioning your image.”

The director of the new series pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing heavily. “If you were desperate to reveal your relationship, at least wait until after the series aired. Why now? Why like this?”

P’Tha’s voice roared across the room, making everyone flinch.

“Thanawat, do you realize what you’ve done?”

Khaotung’s head sank lower, shame burning in his chest. Under the table, First quietly slid his hand into Khaotung’s, squeezing it tight.

“P’Tha, that’s not even true!” First blurted out. “That photo was completely innocent—it was a friend, nothing more.”

The CEO’s glare shifted to him. “Khun First, do you understand the consequences of this scandal? You’ve been begging for a chance to finally be paired, to headline together. And with this one mistake, your careers as a couple could be over!”

“P’Tha—”

His sentence was cut short when the CEO’s palm slammed down on the table with a crack that echoed through the room.

“This is not something you can fix with a simple ‘sorry’ or silence! This is a scandal! Sponsors’ contracts are at stake, broadcast schedules are at stake, your reputation and brand is at stake, and the reputation of this entire company is on the line. Do you understand?!”

The room went quiet, save for Khaotung’s shallow breathing.

The producer leaned forward, voice more measured. “We need to think strategically. Damage control. If the public narrative isn’t flipped soon, the sponsors will start pulling out.”

Another manager added cautiously, “Options include releasing an immediate clarification—it was a friend like they say, so why not go with that? We could also issue an apology statement about the ‘confusion’ and emphasize his commitment to fans.”

“It would have been easy to explain like that if the photo was not suspiciously deleted right away!” Another staff chimed in.

“And if we do that,” the director countered, “it feeds the fire. People will accuse us of covering up. And if the girl is identified, the lie will backfire.”

P’Tha’s jaw tightened. “Then what do you propose? Silence? Silence is death in this business.”

The PR manager finally spoke up, her tone pragmatic. “We could spin it. Use the angle of cyberbullying—highlight how Khaotung is being unfairly harassed over a private, harmless photo. Rally sympathy. It may soften the blow and put pressure back on the haters instead of on us.”

The table fell into tense silence, all eyes shifting between the CEO and the boys.

P’Tha folded his arms. “Make no mistake—this is your last chance. If the sponsors waver, we’ll have to consider suspension, or even pulling you from the series altogether. I will not let this company bleed because of one careless mistake.”

Khaotung finally lifted his head, his voice shaking but determined. “I’ll do whatever it takes. Just… Please don’t make First suffer because of me.”

First gripped his hand tighter, eyes blazing. “We’ll face it together.”

The CEO exhaled sharply, the storm still raging in his gaze. “Then prove it. Because the next 24-48 hours will decide whether you rise from this—or vanish.”

The word hit Khaotung like a truck. Vanish?!

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They left the conference room with the weight of the meeting pressing on their shoulders. Dismissed, yet not freed. Khaotung walked as though the world itself was pulling him down, every step heavier than the last, dragging his feet that may have decided not to move and cooperate.

Amidst all that, First never let go.

Out of everyone in the building, only a handful knew the truth about them. 

And while the world outside continued to speculate, within these walls, their closeness was no secret. People shipped them, yes—but they were also known as best friends, inseparable, joined at the hip. To see them holding hands or hugging was nothing unusual.

So when they stepped out, First didn’t hold back. He pulled Khaotung into his arms without hesitation, embracing him tightly in the middle of the hallway. He shielded him with warmth, whispering soft words of comfort meant only for him. Words that he hoped would steady his trembling heart and gave him courage during this time.

Around them, however, were friends, staff, companions they knew or worked with.. It didn’t take long for Khaotung and First to notice the glances, the sideways looks from staff, the hushed whispers that carried just enough to sting. 

They couldn’t make out the words exactly, but it was obvious what the whispers were about. 

Then one staff member, outspoken and careless, voiced what others only dared to whisper.
“So… is that your girlfriend, Khao?”

The words cut through the air, and it was sharp and spoken that sounded like it’s purpose is to humiliate..

Another staff quickly pulled the man aside, scolding him under their breath, but the damage was already done. Khaotung heard it.

Save for the makeup on his face, no one noticed how pale he’d turned. No one, except First. He saw it immediately—the way Khao froze, lips pressed tight, shoulders stiff. He didn’t move, didn’t speak, but First knew. He knew exactly how much it was getting to him.

First shifted closer, his hand brushing against Khaotung’s. Leaning in, he spoke low, meant only for Khao’s ears. “Don’t mind them… just look at me.”

The warmth of his touch and the steadiness of his voice were enough to pull Khaotung back, if only a little, from the weight pressing down on him.

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.

.

It had been a hard day for both of them, and though First tried to keep things light, Khaotung still carried a gloomy air about him. Of course he did—how could he not?

So when First mentioned that their friends had invited them for another tennis match, he gently coaxed Khao to come along, to play, to sweat it out. 

A distraction, if nothing else.

Beforehand, First had quietly warned their friends not to bring up unnecessary topics—obviously, the scandal. 

Everyone understood. That was the good thing about their circle: they were sensible enough to keep issues out of their gatherings.

The game went on late into the night, laughter and playful banter filling the air until nearly midnight, when exhaustion caught up with them. One by one, they said their goodbyes and parted ways.

First had asked Khaotung to head to the car first, handing him their bags so he could bring them along. The shorter one obeyed with a small smile, trudging ahead to the car park area. He placed all their belongings in the backseat before slipping into the passenger seat, sinking against it with a sigh.

Then a thud.

He turned at the sound and saw First’s mini-pack on the floor. 

Reaching back, he picked it up, only to feel it vibrating nonstop in his hand.

His chest tightened. His heart hammered.

It was their phones—First’s and his. But the frantic buzzing… he knew it was his.

He froze, remembering First’s strict words that morning: Don’t touch your phone today. At the time, he had agreed. But it has been hours that passed since then; he thought maybe he’d calmed down enough, maybe he could finally face the storm.

But with the vibration rattling in his palm, unease flooded back in.  

Slowly, shakily, he unzipped the pack. His heart pounded so hard it hurt. He braced himself, and pulled the flap open.

The glow of the screen hit him like a slap. His phone was lit up, notifications exploding one after another. Hundreds. Thousands. From every platform. Comments, mentions, tags, messages—each pop-up like a dagger.

His eyes blinked rapidly. His hand hovered mid-air, trembling so badly it felt like it didn’t belong to him.

He swallowed hard, throat burning, before finally forcing his fingers to close around the phone.

And with that single grip, Khaotung knew he was about to break all over again.

With a trembling thumb, Khaotung unlocked the screen.

The flood of hate hit him instantly.

Comment after comment, notification after notification—like a tsunami of venomous words.

“Just admit it already, you have a girlfriend!”

“I supported you for years, but no more. Not a single dime from me again.”

“You’ve lied to us. All this time, pretending.”

His stomach twisted, but he kept scrolling, his eyes darting desperately, as though searching for something kinder, but he could not see it even as his eyes passed by them. His brain suddenly was rooted with only seeing and reading the poison.

“You’re dragging First down with you.”

“Fake friend. You don’t care about him at all.”

“Stop using First’s name to boost yourself. He deserves better than you.”

“Because of you, his career will be.”

Khaotung’s breath caught in his throat. His hand flew to his mouth, but the sob he tried to suppress slipped through his trembling fingers. His vision blurred, the screen glowing through the film of his tears, but the words burned into him all the same.

Each sentence was a dagger—not because of what they said about him, but because of what they accused him of doing to First.

First, who never left his side.

First, who will shield him when the world turns cruel.

First, who was still out there, smiling, carrying half his weight without complaint.

And now… now the world was calling him poison to the one person he loved most.

His chest heaved, shallow and uneven, panic rising with every notification that refused to stop. He wanted to throw the phone, but his grip was locked, his fingers stiff with despair.

A single thought cut through his mind, mercilessly:

Maybe they’re right. Maybe I’m the one ruining him.

His whole body shook, his breathing ragged, and in that moment, Khaotung wanted nothing more than to drown it all away—every word, every voice, every accusation in anything that could numb the pain clawing at his heart.

He couldn’t read anymore. His eyes refused to follow the lines of text, his heart too weak and vulnerable to endure another word. He didn’t want to see.

Tears streamed freely down his cheeks, hot and relentless, yet he quickly wiped them away, terrified that First might notice. He didn’t want him to see him like this—not again. First had already carried too much of his pain today. He couldn’t keep being a burden.

With trembling hands, he set the phone down, shoving it back into the bag as if hiding it would erase what he’d seen. He drew in a shaky breath, wiping at his face, desperate to calm the storm in his chest.

But when he closed his eyes, there was no escape. The darkness only magnified the voices. The hateful comments etched themselves behind his eyelids, replaying in an endless loop. Accusations. Betrayals. Words that told him he wasn’t just ruining himself—he was dragging First down with him.

His heart clenched painfully, a pressure built behind his eyes; his vision blurring. He gripped the edge of the seat until the knuckles whitened. The idea that he had become the architect of First’s ruin hammered through him. Because of me. Because of me. The repetition turned into a chant that shoved him further down.

For a long, suspended second, he teetered on the edge, his instinct begging for escape from that darkness. His chest was a storm of pounding heartbeats, each one pulling him closer to collapse. And then, through the haze of panic and despair, came a glimpse of light. First, emerging from the parking lot, walking toward the car. It was like light piercing through the storm—so bright it could hurt the eyes, yet it still pulled him back.

He followed First’ every step until he reached the car. 

First slid into the driver’s seat and glanced at Khaotung. The weary eyes gave him away, as did the faint redness along his nose, under his eyes, and across his cheeks. He knew that First could tell that he cried.

First’s chest ached at the sight. Nothing hurt him more than seeing Khaotung in pain. Without a word, he reached across the console and took Khaotung’s hand in his own, his thumb brushing gently over the knuckles.

It was a quiet gesture, but one heavy with meaning, at least for both of them. 

He hoped Khaotung could feel it—that no matter what was weighing him down, no matter what storm he was caught in, they would fight through it together.

And if the world insisted on dragging Khaotung down, then First silently promised himself: he would be the one to hold him up.

One hand remained wrapped firmly around Khaotung’s, unwilling to let go, while the other reached for the keys. The hum of the engine came to life, filling the silence between them.

Just then, Khaotung turned toward him. His voice broke the quiet with desperation, voice still heavy with anxiety.

“I want to go to karaoke… and drink a little. Please?”

Khaotung didn’t really need to plead like that. First would give him anything, no matter what he asked. But tonight was different. Tonight it sounded like begging.

First’s grip on his hand tightened just slightly, enough to steady him. He turned his gaze from the road to Khaotung, reading the desperation in his eyes.

“Okay,” he said softly, no hesitation in his tone. “If that’s what you want, let’s go.”

First decided to take Khaotung to the outskirts—an hour, maybe two hours away. There, hidden away from prying eyes, was a place they had stumbled upon during one of their past adventures: a quiet resort with cottages, cozy and private. The bar and restaurant stayed open overnight, so if Khaotung wanted to drink, he could drink until the weight in his chest eased up, without anyone watching or judging.

He was thankful, almost relieved, that they were given a two-day break before their next schedule. 

He knew Khaotung needed time—time to breathe, to reflect, to heal. Management had already made it clear that he should stay off social media for now.

The drive passed in silence, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Khaotung leaned against the window, his gaze distant, but his hand never let go of First’s. That grip told him more than words ever could.

First’s mind, though, was far from quiet. This wasn’t the first time they’d faced something like this. Rumors, speculations, scandals—they came and went like waves. Over the years, they had agreed that silence was their shield. They would never give away every piece of their private lives, because at the end of the day, they were human, and even humans in the spotlight deserved privacy. It had worked before. The rumors caused dents, yes, but with the love of their truest fans, they survived. They grew.

So why did this feel heavier? Why did it cut deeper?

First already knew the answer: because of Khaotung. 

Each time a noise started, Khao unraveled. He took it harder than anyone realized, harder than he ever admitted. And worst of all, he always believed that by being at his side, First would be dragged down, too.

He would always think of this. Although time and again, he would remind Khaotung that it is not true.

First tightened his grip on the wheel with one hand, on Khaotung’s hand with the other. He didn’t need proof, but he felt it in his bones—Khaotung had looked. He’d opened the phone. He’d seen the poison. The tighter grip, the gloom radiating from him, the way anxiety seemed to leak from every pore—it told First that he saw the nasty posts and comments..

And in that moment, First made a vow.

He would not let this pass like before. Not this time. 

He wouldn’t let haters and strangers decide their story, or crush what they had built with the people who truly mattered—their families, their friends, their fans who had been with them through every stumble.

He had a plan.

He didn’t know if it would work. He didn’t know if management, his own team, or even Khaotung would let him go through with it.

But he knew one thing for certain: he had to try. Because losing Khaotung to this storm was not an option.

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They arrived at the resort with little conversation. 

Khaotung stayed behind while First checked them in, and soon enough they carried their bags to the cottage before heading straight to the bar. A private karaoke room was booked for two hours, their own little refuge away from the world.

At first, Khaotung stayed quiet, sitting shoulder-to-shoulder with First, his silence heavier than the dim walls of that tiny room. All the while, First just watched, observed every small shift in Khao’s expression, every sigh, every restless tap of his fingers.

They started with a few beers. But then Khao asked for something stronger—tequila shots. After a while, he switched to vodka. Then the order came for a bottle of whiskey, First’s unease just grow.

He knew Khaotung could drink, but not like this. Not when his heart was already heavy. Mixing strong liquor after strong liquor would only end badly. Still, he stayed close and will remain that constant presence. 

Half an hour passed, and the alcohol had clearly taken hold. Khaotung’s silence cracked, replaced by sudden bursts of energy. He leaned toward First with a lopsided smile, “Sing for me First!” His voice was eager, slurring at his words.

First agreed, picking lively songs to keep the mood afloat. They sang together, Khaotung laughing between verses, drinking between refrains, spinning his tipsiness into wild, reckless energy. After ten songs and who knew how many drinks, he was flushed red, dizzy, his steps uneven.

He stumbled toward First with a giggle, “Firrrr~ (hiccup) sing for me too! Come on, let me hear your golden voice naaaa~ hehehek.”

Before First could answer, Khaotung plopped himself onto his lap, looping his arms lazily around his neck, rocking them both side to side like a child urging for attention.

First’s arms instinctively circled Khaotung’s waist, steadying him. His eyes softened as he gazed at him—cheeks flushed, eyes sparkling with intoxicated joy, giggles bubbling out without care. To anyone else he was messy, drunk. To First, he was adorable. Irresistibly so.

“Okay,” First murmured, his lips curving into a gentle smile. “Anything for you.”

That smile made Khaotung giggle again, head falling briefly against his shoulder in giddy delight.

First chose a long song—Yours Ever, the ballad from LOL 2025 that had once gone viral because of the kiss on the forehead. Their song.

The opening chords filled the room. First’s voice rose smoothly, carrying the lyrics with practiced ease.

Khaotung quieted. He leaned against First, resting his head on his shoulder. Whether it was the melancholy of the song, the haze of alcohol, or the weight of the day finally breaking through, he could feel every word sinking into his bones.

First felt it too. Every line seemed to echo their story—two lives, intertwined and tested, but refusing to let go. Singing it with Khaotung by his side made it real in a way nothing else did.

He didn’t just love the song. He loved singing it with him.

The last note of Yours Ever faded into silence, leaving only the faint hum of the speakers. For a heartbeat, neither of them moved.

Then Khaotung’s body started to shake. His head slipped from First’s shoulder as his breath caught—and it all spilled out.

Ugly sobs broke out unrestrained. Tears streamed down his flushed cheeks as he clutched at First’s shirt, voice cracking between gasps. 

“I ruined it… I ruined everything. My career—our career. You, Fir… you don’t deserve this. You don’t deserve to be dragged down because of me.”

His words tumbled over each other. “They’re right, aren’t they? That I’m selfish, that I’m using you, that you’d be better off without me—” His voice collapsed into another sob, choked and painful.

First’s heart ached at the sight. The Khaotung he knew—the one who lit up rooms with his soft smile and cute laughter, who brightens everyone’s day every time he passes by—was now bare, stripped down to nothing but fear and self-blame.

First wrapped his arms around him, pulling him close. One hand threaded gently through Khaotung’s hair, the other rubbed circles into his back. 

His voice was steady and overflowing with tenderness. “Enough, Khao. Stop.” He pressed his cheek against the crown of Khaotung’s head. “You’re not ruining anything. You’re not ruining me, you could never ruin me. Don’t you get it? You’re the reason I’m standing where I am. You’re the one I want beside me, no matter what people say.”

Khaotung sobbed harder, burying his face against him, his whole frame shaking.

First tightened his embrace, holding Khaotung as though he could shield him from every cruel word that had ever been thrown their way. He lowered his voice, whispering directly into his ear, the kind of whisper that wasn’t just words but an oath carved into their soul.

“Let them say what they want. Let them doubt. I’m not leaving—not today, not ever. We’ll get through this together.”

His hand slid up to cradle the back of Khaotung’s head, fingers weaving into his hair, grounding him. He spoke again, firmer, but no less gentle, sealing a vow only the two of them would ever hear.

“You know I’ll always—always—be beside you, no matter what happens. We promised each other that, didn’t we? And I don’t break promises. Not with you.”

He pulled back just enough to tilt Khaotung’s chin up, so their eyes met. Red, swollen, and tear-filled though they were, First held that gaze like it was the most important truth in the world.

“What we have is real, Khao. No rumor, no scandal, no stranger’s words can erase that. So don’t listen to them. Don’t let them decide who you are, or what we are. 

Just listen to me. Only me. Okay?”

His thumb brushed away a tear trailing down Khaotung’s cheek, lingering there as he whispered the final words with profound conviction: “As long as I’m here, you’ll never face any of this alone.”

He sealed the vow with a soft kiss—at first to Khaotung’s damp cheek, then lingering at the corner of his trembling lips—gently, reminding him of the only truth that mattered.

First’s words washed over him, warmth of his embrace steadied the storm inside. The kiss to his cheek, the brush at the corner of his lips—it slowly pieces him back together. His trembling hands fisted in First’s shirt, clutching him like a lifeline.

Through sobs, he finally spoke.

“Fir… I’m scared. I—” he choked on the words, tears spilling again. “Every time this happens, I feel like... like I’m the reason your career, your dreams—everything you worked for—might get ruined. I hate it. I hate myself for it.”

First shook his head immediately, ready to speak, but Khaotung pressed on, desperate, vulnerable. “And yet…” he whispered, almost ashamed, “I can’t let you go. Even if people say I’m using you, even if they say I’m selfish—I can’t. Because I love you. Too much. More than I should. More than I know how to carry sometimes.”

His words broke into a sob, his face pressed against First’s chest. “If I lose you, Fir, I lose myself. And I don’t think I could survive that.”

The confession hung between them, fragile, and undeniable.

First’s arms tightened around him, one hand tilting his chin up again. His eyes glistened, he leaned in, lips brushing softly against Khaotung’s, whispering against them: “Then don’t let me go. Because I love you too. Always have, always will.”

The kiss that followed was tender, slow—full of promises. But even as Khaotung melted into it, the anxiety lingered at the edges. 

The fear hadn’t vanished; it pulsed faintly beneath the warmth, reminding him of the hate, of the comments, of the shadows that clawed at his mind.

And that fear—mixed with the intensity of his love—fueled a desperate need. A need to forget, to drown the voices.

When the kiss broke, Khaotung’s lips trembled against First’s as he whispered, almost pleading,
“Fir… make me forget… please.”

The request was fragile yet burning, the kind of plea born from both love and fear. And First, looking into his tear-stained face, knew what he meant. 

The moment Khaotung whispered those words, First felt his heart clench. Make me forget.

There was no hesitation, no second thought. He leaned in, capturing Khaotung’s lips with a kiss that was no longer soft or tentative—it was deep, searing, full of desperation and love tangled together.

Khaotung melted into him, his arms tightening around First’s neck as if he might fall apart otherwise. Their mouths moved hungrily, breathless gasps between kisses that grew hotter, and heavier. 

The taste of whiskey lingered on Khao’s tongue, mixing with the salt of his tears, but all First could think was mine—he’s mine.

First pulled him closer, their bodies flush, Khaotung straddling his lap again. His hands roamed up First’s chest, trembling but eager, tugging at the fabric of his shirt as though it was one more barrier he couldn’t stand.

“Fir…” Khaotung murmured against his lips, the word half-sob, half-moan. His forehead pressed to First’s, eyes fluttering shut. “Don’t let me think. Don’t let me remember anything but you.”

First cupped his face with both hands, kissing him deeply, swallowing his plea. “You don’t have to,” he whispered between kisses, voice low, husky. “Just… feel me.”

First’s lips moving along Khao’s jaw, down to the curve of his neck. Each press of his mouth was  making Khaotung gasp and cling tighter. His fingers tangled in First’s hair, urging him closer, trembling under every touch.

When First’s hands slid beneath the fabric of his shirt, warm palms gliding over his skin, Khaotung shivered. The contact was electric, a touch that could always burn away the ache in his chest. He arched into it, into him, needing more, needing all of him.

Before they could do more, First pulled back, still his hands caressing Khao’s waist underneath the clothes. 

“Let’s go to our room.” He whispered before kissing the man again with a soft gentle kiss.

They rushed back to their cottage, both of them flushed and burning, clinging to each other all the way through.

The moment the door closed, they stumbled toward the sofa, lips never parting, hands roaming with growing urgency. 

Khaotung pushed First towards the sofa and sat on him, desperate to lose himself completely, while First steadied him—guiding as he kissed him with a passion that was both consuming and tender.

“Fir… please,” Khaotung gasped, his voice breaking with need. “I need you.”

First silenced him with another kiss, slow and consuming, before pulling back just enough to look at him—red-cheeked, eyes heavy with both tears and desire. 

His eyes full of adoration, heart full with the weight of everything Khao meant to him.

“You have me,” he whispered, brushing his thumb across Khao’s swollen lips. “Always. Tonight, tomorrow… forever. I am yours, forever.”

Then he kissed him again, harder this time, pouring every ounce of love and promise into it.

He tugged at the hem of his shirt, pulling it over his head, then did the same for Khaotung. Lifting his gaze, he leaned forward and pressed his lips to Khao’s chest, right where his heart beat. He could feel it trembling beneath his lips—loud and fast.

First laid his palm gently over that spot, while with his other hand he took Khaotung’s and placed it against his own chest.

“You’re the one who lives here,” he whispered, his voice thick with conviction. “Don’t ever forget that. No matter what others say, this—” he pressed Khaotung’s hand firmly against his heart, “—will always belong to you. And nothing, I say, nothing can tear us apart.”

Khaotung’s hand trembled, his eyes welling once more with tears upon hearing it for the hundredth—no, the thousandth—time. The same words he treasured, the words he carried in the deepest part of his heart.

First was reminding him again, as he always did, about their promise. Over and over, like an anchor pulling him back whenever the storm threatened to sweep him away. Each repetition carves deeper into his soul.

Khaotung lifted both hands and cupped First’s face in his smaller palms. Big tears streamed down his cheeks as he leaned in, kissing him with reverence—with all the love and endless devotion he had for this man.

When he pulled back just enough to breathe, his lips trembled as he whispered, “Thank you...” He leaned in again for another lingering kiss, this time murmuring against his lips, “I love you.”

Then he claimed him fully, kissing his man with hunger. Their mouths moved together in a desperate, consuming rhythm—passion, desire, and love colliding in one endless, soul-deep kiss.

First lifted Khaotung, his hands firm beneath his thighs, carrying him from a short distance to the bed. He lowered him gently onto the soft linens, his body sinking into the mattress.

Without breaking their kiss, First tugged his own shorts off, tossing them carelessly aside, then reached for Khaotung’s and slid them down, casting them away to join the rest. 

His hands roamed Khaotung’s bare torso, chest rose and fell with unsteady breaths as First’s fingers teased over his skin, circling his nipples before brushing lightly across them. His lips followed the path of his touch, trailing downward in slow kisses and tiny licks..

The shorter man could only moan and sigh, every sound spilling out helplessly as waves of sensation coursed through him—from the tips of his toes to the smallest nerve sparking in his brain. 

This was the effect his man always had on him. Especially in moments like this, when every touch was more than desire, it was devotion.

He felt it in his entire being: how he was cared for, how he was loved, how he was worshipped. Every caress, every kiss told him the same thing—that to First, he was everything.

First’s lips moved lower, his kisses and touch both gentle. He trailed his mouth across the plane of Khao’s chest, down to his stomach, each press of his lips speaking words he didn’t need to say aloud. He wanted Khaotung to feel it—how cherished he was, how deeply adored.

“Fir…” Khaotung gasped, his voice breaking into a plea as his back arched off the mattress. His hands reached for him blindly, fingers threading through First’s hair, urging him closer, deeper, needing more.

First looked up briefly, catching the sight of Khaotung’s flushed cheeks, his tear-bright eyes clouded with need. The sight alone made his chest and body burn. He leaned back up, capturing Khao’s lips again in a kiss that was nothing short of consuming—hungry and tender all at once, if that’s even possible.

Their mouths collided, tongues tugging playfully, breaths shared until they were both dizzy. Khaotung moaned into the kiss, his body arching to meet every movement of First’s. Their lower body grinding against each other’s hardness eliciting more lewd sounds. 

Khaotung held both of their aroused cock and held them firmly. First thought he saw stars when his cock was enveloped by Khaotung’s warm hands and the man’s hard cock, he had to bite his lips to make himself stop from coming at that very moment. 

“Baby, ahhhh…” 

The shorter didn’t give First enough time to recover and he captured the man’s mouth one more time swallowing his groans. Then, he took First hands and put his fingers in his mouth, kissing, sucking and soaking them wet. 

They didn’t have a lube nor a condom, but the way the shorter sucks Firsts’ fingers were making him even harder and he’s pretty sure he’s not gonna be able to stop himself, but he also doesn’t want to hurt the man. 

“Babe, we don’t have lube, this is not enough, I’m gonna hurt—” Khaotung silenced him by placing his index finger against First lips.

“You won’t hurt me…,” Khaotung whispered, voice small and yearning, “Teng—make love to me?”

First held his gaze, drinking in the shine in Khaotung’s eyes. He leaned close until their foreheads touched, his breath warm against Khao’s lips.

“Whatever you want, Teng…” He kissed him then—slow, deep, a promise sealed with heat. Fingers threaded through Khaotung’s hair as he pressed their bodies together. His soaking hands glided down Khaotung’s back before cupping and squeezing his ass, drawing out soft whines and helpless whimpers from the smaller man.

His fingers slide over the rim of the smaller man’s asshole, and it make the shorter retract his body, arching his back either with an attempt to pull away or push closer to the long fingers touching him. 

“Ahh, Fir…” 

His long middle finger attempted to penetrate but the smaller was clenching. “Baby, just relax…” he whispered against Khao’s lips, other hand groping his waist. 

He distracted him with his mouth as he sucked and bit the smaller’s nipples, at the same time, his fingers tried poking again and slipped in. 

“Nggghhh…” his kitten-like whines, a music to Firsts’ ears. 

In and out, his middle finger curling inside as he stretches that tight hole. 

Another finger added, Khaotung could feel the little pain causing another wave of pressure making him groan, his hands clutching First’s biceps so tightly his nails will surely leave marks. “Ahhh…” he gasped, breath coming heavy and uneven.

First leaned close, his voice tender as he whispered words of comfort, soothing him with soft praises. “You’re doing so well, Teng,” he murmured before pressing a trail of kisses across Khaotung’s face—his temples, his cheeks, the corner of his lips—showering him with gentleness until the tension in his body eased.

His body and mind were moving on their own as his hand snaked around First’s hard cock. The taller’s jaw tightened as his groin is shooting electricity in his head. In a moment of pleasure, he suddenly added another finger drawing a high-pitched scream from the smaller. 

“I’m sorry baby, I got excited.” First whispered alongside soothing kisses. 

He opened his eyes and smiled, sweat glistening on the smaller’s forehead. “I’m good. I needed that.” 

Their kisses are once again borderline sweet and desire-driven. 

Feeling like he’s ready, Khaotung pulled away from the kiss and turned around, his back against First’s chest. 

“Not yet, babe, you’re not re—,” he was shut up with another mind blowing tongue-tugging wet, sloppy make-out from his tiny lover. 

“But I am. Love me na..?” 

And with such state, flushed red, their bodies hot and wanting, the taller could not deny him. Not ever. 

“I always love you.”  Holding the smaller’s sweat stricken, flushed face, his lips glide against the man’s lips, slotting them perfectly, slick tongue tugging, exchanging saliva as they devour each other. 

The taller position his dick and slowly slid in. 

He had a hard time but he continued to push in. 

With just their saliva, no lubricant, the smaller’s ass is so tight and the penetration causes discomfort and pain. 

But this is what Khaotung wanted. 

He wanted to feel everything. He wanted it raw and tight and painful and pleasurable. 

Both were sweating from the struggle, but when First finally bottomed-out, a deep growl escaped his lips. It was warm and tight and he thought he’d cum right away. 

Khaotung on the other hand screamed. “Fuck!” 

First got worried and held his lover, “How are you? Is it too painful?”

“No, no. I- (huff) I’m okay. Just (huff) just what I need.”  

“Are you sure? I can, I can pull-out.” 

“Don’t, I’m fine. Just (sigh) wait for a moment.” Khaotung huffed and asked. 

As their bodies stayed connected, they shared soft touch and pepper each other with gentle kisses. A moment of solace from becoming one. 

The smaller tugged at First, keeping their lips locked, the urgency in his movements clear without words. His kiss deepened, longing, as though begging him to move, to take him further.

Understanding, First brushed his thumb along Khao’s jaw, he slowly pulled out just enough,  a faint whimper slipped from the smaller’s throat, the sound swallowed by the taller.

He thrusted in and deep, drawing out deep growls from him and a scream and sob from Khaotung as both pain and pleasure hit, ecstasy shooting straight through his brain, he swore he saw stars at the back of his eyelids.

“AHHHH!” 

“Urggggghhh, you're tight and so warm!” 

With all of the sensation he felt in his entire body, Khaotung could only make more sound in response. 

“Nggghh!..” 

He moved again,deliberately slow, each thrust carrying them higher into a bliss that felt like they were floating on cloud nine. 

With his every motion was a vow, he wanted Khaotung to feel loved, to feel worshipped, to know what it meant to be cherished. In this unhurried pace, he was certain his lover could feel the full weight and intensity of his love.

This is not just them having sex, but it was them in another form of expressing love towards one another, in the most passionate, intimate way. 

Khaotung was lost in it, surrendering completely. He moved with First, matching his pace, his mind spinning from the overwhelming arousal. His kisses turned ungraceful, sloppy, but no less meaningful—each a desperate attempt to pour out the depth of what he felt, to consume and be consumed by the man he loved.

And in turn, they consumed their love as if it were both the first and the last time.

Both felt the undeniable effect of their passionate love-making, they could feel the knot in their bodies, the arousal rising to its peak, any moment they would give in. “You’re mine,” First whispered, his voice low and rough, vibrating against Khaotung’s lips, “Always mine.”

Khaotung breathed back, his voice trembling with both passion and certainty. “Only yours.”

Their bodies moved with urgency, with desperation. Every move, frantic yet tender, driven by love as much as desire. 

Each thrust, kiss, whispered word was a promise: You are my forever. Nothing will tear us apart.

First’s pace faltered into wild and desperate, deeper and uncoordinated. His hands gripped Khaotung’s body tightly, pulling him closer as though he could fuse them into one. The room filled with the raw sound of skin slapping, gasps breaking into groans, breath falling heavy and rough, echoing their urgency.

He changed position, kneeling on the bed, pulling Khaotung’s body with him, slapping one of his ass cheeks before ramming him again and again and again chasing the high.

“Baby, ahh! I’m.. ahhh… I..ahhh!... C-(huff) coming!.. Said the smaller, eyes rolling at the back of his head as he shot his load on the mattress as soon as he said it. In effect, he clenched and First immediately came and felt the warm liquid flowing out of him and in shooting the smaller’s asshole. 

When the intense climax, it wasn’t just release—instead it was the union of two hearts, two souls, tangled together for life.

To Khaotung, it was overwhelming—the way First touched him, kissed him, filled him—every sensation layered with love so intense it bordered on unbearable, yet he bore it willingly, happily. He felt cherished, seen, and utterly consumed.

To First, it was more than passion—it was a vow, his vow, their vow, carved into skin and breath. 

Breathing heavily and sweat-slicked warm bodies, they lay tangled in the sheets, breathless and trembling, their hearts pounding in sync. Khaotung’s face pressed onto the pillow, his body still tingling with the aftermath. 

Bodies still connected, First kissed the top of his head, holding him close, whispering against his hair like a prayer: “Love you.”

And Khaotung felt ecstatic, satisfied, and content. Everything else is forgotten. 

Everything he needs is here with him. 

.

.

.

By the time First woke up, there was afternoon light already spilling through the curtains. Khaotung was half sprawled across his chest, breathing steady, his warmth, a weight that First never wanted to lose.

He watched the man he loved—the man he had vowed to fight for in this lifetime and the next—something solidified inside him. 

The conviction, the strength of their love, stretched beyond infinity. 

He knew what he had to do. He had been preparing for this moment, whether he realized it or not.

This year has been different. The boldest yet. 

In front of the cameras, he had been more open, more unguarded than ever before. 

He had shown the world his love, his jealousy, his possessiveness—the lengths he was willing to go to prove that Khaotung was not just his partner in work, but in life. 

His world. His happiness.

And it’s time for the world to see a glimpse of their love more than what they’ve already shown on camera. 

He reached for his phone and called the manager. 

From their many visits to this place, the staff already knew them well—people who respected privacy and confidentiality. Not once had their presence here been exposed, which was why First trusted them.

He made a few requests: remedies for the headache he knew Khaotung would wake up with, and arrangements for later, when they would step out to the beach at sunset.

Beside him, Khaotung stirred, a soft groan slipping past his lips. His body still ached from the night before, though the warmth of First’s embrace made him want to sink back into sleep. 

But then he heard First’s voice in a hushed tone.

It pulled him back, eyelids fluttering open. His eyes met First’ who was still talking on the phone but then ended it right away.

Khaotung only gathered that it was about dinner.

“Morning, kitty,” First whispered in a teasing tone, brushing his lips against Khaotung’s hair.

“Mnmnn…” Khaotung groaned in protest, though the small smile tugging at his lips betrayed him.

.

.

.

The afternoon drifted by with the two of them holed up in their cottage. First, ever the sweetest caretaker, requested from the resort to prepare hangover soup which he fed the man, and handed him medicine for his aching head. 

Between spoonfuls and sips, he doted on him, fussing in ways that made Khaotung laugh softly.

They never once spoke of the scandal. 

It was as though there was a silent pact between them—this break was theirs, and theirs alone. Work, the noise, the world outside—it could wait.

Khaotung believed that all this trip was meant to be for them to heal and calm the storm.

As the golden glow of sunset began to seep through the windows, First’s phone buzzed. 

He glanced at the screen and excused himself with a calmness that gave nothing away. It was the manager of the resort, confirming what had been arranged. First kept his voice careful, answering only briefly so as not to raise suspicion.

When he hung up, he turned back with a smile.

“The resort prepared something special for us—a dinner by the beach.”

By then, Khaotung was already looking brighter, his headache gone and the stiffness from the night before replaced with an excited spark. 

At the mention of a dinner set by the ocean, his energy lifted even more. He grinned, eyes softening with a childlike gleam.

“Really? By the beach?”

First nodded. 

In his mind though, tonight would be more than dinner. Tonight would be a step that would turn everything upside down, anticipating both good and bad outcomes.

They stepped out, the sun was beginning its descent, painting the sky in soft streaks of gold, pink, and lavender. The ocean shimmered as though it was scattered with diamonds, and the breeze carried a cool and gentle sensation against their skin.

When they saw the table for them, with candles flickering in the wind’s embrace, lanterns hanging delicately from the poles, and petals scattered across white linen; two glasses of wine, the scene was intimate and just, breathtaking. 

Khaotung gasped softly, his lips parting at the sight. “Fir… this is beautiful.”

“Not as beautiful as you,” he teased lightly, earning the expected playful nudge on his arm.

They sat side by side, their chairs angled toward the horizon so they could watch the sun slowly sink into the water. 

Dinner came in courses—grilled seafood, warm bread, fruit sweetened by the summer air. It was a delightful meal, but what really mattered was the laughter between bites, the way Khaotung leaned into First’s shoulder with wine-warmed cheeks, and the comfortable silences where words weren’t needed.

At one point, Khaotung rested his chin in his hand, gazing out at the sea. “I wish time could stop here,” he murmured. “Just you and me, no one else.”

First reached over, entwining their fingers gently. His thumb brushed across Khaotung’s knuckles in the same steady rhythm he had given him countless times before. “Even if time doesn’t stop, Teng,” he said softly, “From now on, I’ll make sure every moment feels like this.”

Khaotung blinked, his heart swelling as he turned toward him. The candlelight danced in First’s eyes that was lit with certainty and confidence.

First leaned in, close enough that his voice was a breath across Khao’s lips. “You’re my forever, Teng. Nothing can change that.”

Khaotung smiled, cheeks glowing bright as the sun set, prettier than the sky.

.

.

.

They had talked about it before, countless times behind closed doors. 

They both knew that what they had was beyond friendship, far deeper than labels could contain. And they had given it a name, a promise, long ago. They had been with each other for years now—soulmates, partners, lovers.

Still, they had kept it private. For privacy, not bringing their private lives in the limelight. 

But as First held Khaotung close, watching the glow of candlelight dance across his smile, he realized he no longer cared about keeping it hidden. They were private, but not really a secret. 

But no one knows, everybody just assumes.

And with the issues coming into play, he will not let others tell them what to believe. Not when their truth was the most beautiful thing he’d ever known.

Thus, the entire evening had been captured. 

Discreetly, quietly. Photos of their laughter, stolen kisses, the way their hands never let go. Clips of them swaying barefoot on the sand, voices overlapping in laughter, gazes locked like no one else existed. 

Every picture and video were synced directly to First’s phone, ready for him when the time came.

He had thought long and hard about this moment. 

About the risk, the fallout, the headlines. But he also thought of the fans who had always seen through and respected their silence, who had cheered for them even without a confession. He thought of the families who loved them, of the friends who supported them. Of the life he wanted—their life.

And he knew: it was time.

The waves were already darkening to indigo when First reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. Khaotung was still laughing from something he’d said. He was just having fun, enjoying the company of his best friend, turned lover.

“Come here,” First said softly, tugging Khaotung’s hand. He led him closer to the shoreline, where the fading sun painted the horizon in fire and gold. They stood together, hands clasped, watching the light sink into the water.

The shutter clicked. Once, twice. Both on the phone in First’s hand and the one a bit further away from them.

The image appeared on Firsts’ screen, the silhouette of their intertwined hands against the setting sun. It was majestic and beautiful. 

Khaotung glanced at it, smiling, “That’s beautiful, Ter,” he murmured, resting his head briefly on First’s shoulder. 

Later that night, when they retired to their cottage, Khaotung curled against him, drowsy and content, after taking dozens of playful selfies that filled First’s phone. He tucked Khaotung in, brushing a hand over his hair as the smaller man drifted off.

This—this quiet, this closeness—was everything he had ever wanted. 

A life with his partner. With his man. With his soulmate.

Whatever the world said tomorrow, none of it would change that.

.

.

.

The next day, the world woke to breaking news.

Another photo. Photos. 

Posted 6 hours ago.

Another “scandal.”

But this time, it was different.

Because no, it was not a scandal. It was a revelation, a silent confession.

Not a misunderstood post.

This was clearly posted with intention.

A photo of First and Khaotung posted under First’ social media account, hand in hand on the beach at sunset, smiling like the world itself was theirs and another of Khaotung resting his head against First’s shoulder, while First kissed his forehead. It may be a little dark but their faces are clear. Soft and full of expression of trust and love.  

With a ‘Some secrets are too beautiful to keep forever.’ with a heart as the caption.

It was both subtle and not. A glimpse of private time in the most intimate way. 

The internet erupted. Headlines blared. Comment sections exploded.

Alongside the noise came the waves of support. Fans trending hashtags with joy. Messages filled with finally, we knew it all along, we’re so proud of you both. 

Some haters insert themselves somewhere that immediately gets buried, that it was reckless, fake and all.

But many called it brave. The overwhelming noise was of support and love. Friends and family posting and sending messages with congratulations.

For the first time, the truth wasn’t a secret, or a scandal.It was a celebration.

And as Khaotung blinked awake to the sound of his phone buzzing endlessly on the nightstand, First was already there, ready to hold him through the storm and into the light.

Because whatever came next—they would face it together.

And as Khaotung scrolled through the notifications with wide eyes, his heart pounding in disbelief, First wrapped an arm around his shoulders and whispered, steady and sure, 

“This time, we tell our story. No one else.”

He took the phone from Khaotung who still looked stunned, eyes welling and he stared sincerely at First. 

Choose the photo with their clasped hand, and captioned it, 

‘Hold my hand forever love. We’re locked in for life.’

First hit post.

The photo spread like wildfire and new comments, tags, messages came in seconds.

The social media and entertainment people went wild for the second time that morning.

Fans who had been with them for years recognized it instantly—not just two hands, but their hands. 

The caption was dissected, replayed, translated into every language across every platform. Hashtags trended within the hour: 

#FirstKhaotung, #ForeverLove, #ReeltoReal

[END]