Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

PO

Sitting in ONER's open area wasn't something that Po always did, but when he did, it was always because he was waiting for Thame's messages. Then again, not a lot of things work for him, so when Jun's interruption in his personal time started, and when the man also answered Thame's call on his own phone, Po almost did something that he cannot undo. 

Thankfully for him, he had control of his own mind and body. But if not, he would have punched Jun or done something worse. 

At the moment, the said man's annoying presence follows him as he types a response to Thame's messages. No matter how hard he tried to ignore it, Jun would always make sure that his day would either be disrupted by his glorious presence or whatnot. 

Most of the time, he'll flirt. 

And sometimes, like now, he'll say something dumb. 

Such as—

"Oi.....do you actually think what Thame's doing right now makes you any different from all the people around him?"

Caught off guard, Po stopped typing and instead looked at Jun. ".....What do you mean?"

Jun said nothing immediately, but Po saw the man look at his phone, so he immediately locked it, set it on the table, and stared at Jun again. 

And then the silence. Truth be told, he hates it so much. He wasn't really that close with Jun, so it's hard to gauge whatever this silence meant. Not only that, but it makes him think of things that he should not be thinking of right now—such as what Jun means when he said 'makes him any different from all the people that Thame knows.'

Baifern also once said that he was a pretty good overthinker, so really, this silence wasn't doing him any good. But then again, this was also Jun. Jun, this man, is cunning, sharp, and calculating in ways that are important just to cause enough chaos. 

With that in mind, he thought—no, he's just saying random things, Po, don't listen to him. 

So, Po exhales deeply, making sure that his irritation is showing through as he looks at Jun straight in the eyes. "What about it?" he says, dismissive. "We're fine. i don't need you to read into it, Jun."

With that, he opened his phone again and started to construct another sentence that he was going to say to Thame. Something about their plan to get the other members back, and once he had sent it, he saw the 'seen.' 

The bubble appeared, but to his dismay, there was no message at all. Ultimately, it disappeared, a minute or two passed, and Thame's status went offline. 

That, right there, that made his chest feel all sorts of things—something along the lines of pain, hurt, disappointment, anger even. And as if that wasn't enough, Jun, from behind him, suddenly lets out a low laugh. 

It did not sound amused or kind; it sounded more like a mockery of what his head is feeding his chest right now. 

"You know.,,back when we were trainees...we did all of that too." Jun says lightly and sits back beside him again, crossing his legs. "The calls, the messages, the staying up, and acting like that—like what you two are doing right now," Jun then puts his face on his palm and faces Po with a smile, "It's not new, you're not special."

He's not special, Jun said. 

Po looks to the side, deadpan, "So?"

"So, get your head out of the gutter. Thame's treating you just the same as he treats others when he wants to be their friend. That, is what I am saying."

Friend, Jun said. 

Po looks back at Jun, but this time, with an irritation that was almost beyond annoyance and entering the territory of anger. "What is your problem?"

That's when Jun stared at him, like really stared at him, and then finally looked away, as if he was thinking something important, then said. "Nothing."

"Then what is all this—you're saying all this stuff, for what?"

"Nothing," Jun said again, before brushing his hair back and leaning on the chair. "Just thought I'd do you a favor and tell you something before you get too....comfortable and used to it."

"I am not used to it, and I am not comfortable—and look," Po shoots back quickly. "even if I was, that's really none of your business."

Jun just laughed at him. 

This time, he looked amused, but unlike the other smiles that he had seen, this one looked less like a smile and more like a mask that someone would wear to deflect. Somehow, that alone scared him already. 

What does Jun want from him? He thought. 

"Right....you don't need advice." 

Po nodded his head, "I don't."

"Yeah, whatever," Jun shrugs and then looks away. "Got it."

Then he stood, Po looked up, and expected the man to be gone the second he breathed a sigh of relief. But then Jun stops two or three steps away from him, and when he speaks, the humor's gone already. 

"You don't want advice, okay, but I'll say it anyway—"

"Jun, I don't—"

"—Because whether you like it or not, you only matter to Thame because you're a key piece to put MARS back together."

"...."

This time, Po doesn't look up; he just stares at his phone's screen, getting stuck on the fifth digit of his password. 

"Whatever you think is going on between you and Thame, I'm sorry to break it to you, but you're the only one thinking it."

"...."

You're the only one thinking it, Jun said. 

"Once MARS is back together, he;s going to let you go—"

He's going to let you go, Jun said. 

"And when he does, you'll finally get why I said these things in the first place. And maybe you'll regret it too—"

And maybe you'll regret it too, Jun said. 

"But then again, the choice is yours, Po.....whatever you want."

The choice is yours, Po, Jun said. 

But that was also the thing, the choice was Po's, and it would always be his. For him, it was just another day of Jun trying to get into his nerves, so he tried to ignore it. 

For a few hours of that day, Po tried to treat Jun's words as a passing teasing. He didn't overthink it; it just caught him off guard. Those jokes exist, especially because Jun doesn't realize he's sensitive. So he continued on with his work, but that night, Po had to cancel his and Thame's scheduled meet-up to stay up in his own room and stare at the black screen of his phone for absolutely no reason. He turned the conversation over and over in his head, replaying Jun's tone, the seriousness and the lack of humor, the pauses, the way Jun had looked at him like he knew something that Po didn't.

It unsettled him more than he wanted to admit. Not because he believed it, but because some part of him couldn’t immediately dismiss it. Because no matter how kind Thame is, the fact remains that they have no label, and Thame never really told him what's with them. 

It lasted him the whole day at work; he was restless the entire time. He had to lock himself in his room and call Baifern to vent his thoughts. 

Just like always, he didn't use the name because Baifern can be a little too nosy. He told her about Mr. A and Mr. B and insisted that the situation was hypothetical. And of course, Baifern caught up easily. The girl knew him too well to be fooled by his excuses, but the point is, he would never say that Baifern is correct. Eventually, they did talk about it. Baifer listened and explained what he and Thame are doing and where they are at the moment. From the late-night calls, the messages, the walks, the topics, the lingering gazes, the smiles, the tension, and everything, when he finished, Baifern only said—

"Po," she started and sighed. "People don't just invest time and emotions like that for no reason. That doesn't sound one-sided to me."

It wasn't an argument; it was just that. 

And when Baifern said those words, it was already enough for him. It was enough assurance that he wasn't just really imagining things as Jun had said. 

It was enough to keep Jun's words out of his mind, and while it did not completely get rid of the thoughts, it still felt like he was already leaning into what he already believed—that none of his feelings were one-sided, that Thame wanted him too. 

That it was enough to trust what he and Thame had. 

The next few days passed easily after that, as if nothing had disturbed his peace at all, as if nothing of Jun's words had been said. Thame still texted him the same way—short messages when he was busy, longer ones when he wasn’t, sometimes just sending a picture without context, like he wanted Po to see things as he saw them. They still called, often later than they should, voices softer as the hours pushed through their ability to stay up, conversations moving from casual updates into something more personal without either of them needing to point it out. They talked about everything—plans for Nano’s comeback, ideas for MARS’ self-release single, the direction Pemika might take, but it never stayed strictly about work.

It couldn’t.

Po knew that they both couldn't

Because somewhere between all of that, they learned from each other in subtler ways. Favorite songs, favorite colors, the kind of books they reached for when they couldn’t sleep. Stories about friends, about family, about small and ordinary things that didn’t seem important until they were shared, until the two of them are talking like it's the only thing that matters in the world. Even the in-between moments, what they ate that day, which video made them laugh, which lyric stayed in their head longer than it should have, are part of preparing for the music video. Work or not, all became part of it.

And Thame listened every time he talked, even when it didn't make sense anymore. 

That was what stayed with Po the most.

Thame always listened in a way that felt effortless, like he didn’t need to be told what mattered when he was talking. Thame just let him, like he just knew. It was so different from what Po had been used to before. Earn had always needed things spelled out and controlled, needed Po to reach first, to explain, to ask for attention. Po needed to be vocal; he needed to say he wanted to be seen. Not ignored.

But with Thame, it wasn’t like that.

Thame made time, even when he didn’t have it. He showed up without being asked. He stayed, he just stayed right there beside Po without having to be told what to do. 

There were nights they walked with no destination, just talking, letting the conversation drift from plans to something less than work, something that felt almost too easy to hold, something more personal.

And slowly, without Po realizing exactly when it happened, the days turned into weeks.

And slowly, without Po realizing, Jun's words started to drift. 

But the words didn’t disappear; they simply lost their meaning and power to make him feel anxious at night, the way he used to when it was still freshly said to him. They became something distant, something easy to set aside, until Po stopped thinking about them altogether. Because everything in front of him felt real.

Life felt steady and perfect. 

For once, it felt like something in his life wasn’t slipping through his fingers.

So when Thame invited him to the dorm, Po didn’t hesitate.

It was casual. It was a late lunch that turned into an early dinner, a small gathering to welcome Pepper and celebrate the fact that Gam, someone they all knew through ONER, was actually his girlfriend. It sounded light, easy, like something Po could step into without overthinking. 

In fact, when he arrived, the first thing he saw was Pepper running to Jun to get him for flirting with Gam. 

It was just so peaceful, it was so easy to feel at home with MARS, with Thame. And so he took everything as it is. More than that, it meant time. A few more hours with Thame before everything became busy again, before the single drops and schedules tightened around them.

And, again, it was easy.

It was really easy. 

Well, at first.

The dorm was loud in a comfortable way, filled with familiar voices and laughter that came too easily to be pushed away. They ate together, crowded around the table, conversations shifting from one topic to another without pause. Po found himself laughing more than he expected, falling into the rhythm of it as if he belonged there in the first place, like this wasn’t something temporary.

Hours passed without Po noticing, and nothing felt off; nothing would or could break it off. 

This happiness. 

This fantasy. 

Until he stood up and excused himself. 

It wasn't anything important; he just needed to go to the bathroom, and he just needed to breathe away from the noise. He didn't put much thought into it, did his business, and when he stepped out again, he dried his hands and started walking through the hallway to the small garden of the dorm. 

Until he heard plates and utensils moving in the kitchen. 

From where he stood, he could see part of the kitchen, where Dylan was standing, and Thame's leather jacket facing him. The thing is, he wasn't really trying to listen or anything, he just....he was just there, in the wrong time. 

And then Dylan talked, "You've been getting pretty cozu with P'Po, Thame."

Thame laughed, sending his heart into bursts of fireworks from happiness. "You think so?"

"Yeah....you look cozy, you look happy. I'm glad, though. You two fit."

Fit, Dylan said. 

Immediately, he his at the wall and made sure that he won't be seen anytime soon. His heart picked up its beat, and for reasons he didn't dare question. All he felt was that he was happy, he felt soft and mushy, and a little bit overwhelmed. 

Then Thame spoke. 

"Oh, P'Po? What do you mean we fit?" Po bit his lips in nervousness, and then Thame continued. "He's just a good friend, nothing more."

And as easy as that, every single beat that his heart beat no longer felt like a romantic bell. 

Somehow, it just shattered. 

Now, all it sounds like is silence in his heart. 

And then Jun's voice came back to him. 

And you might regret it too, Jun said. 

Once MARS gets back together, you'll be forgotten, Jun said. 

He's going to forget about you soon, Jun said.

He stays where he is, hidden by the wall, not only his body, but his heart, from this sudden conversation that he wasn't prepared to hear. Still, he tells himself to stay there, because that can't be it. 

Thame can't be.....He can't be saying that, right? Po asked himself. 

In the kitchen, Dylan lets out a laugh, something that irked and struck Po's ears like a sharp weapon. 

"Just a friend?" Dylan asked. "Come on, Thame. I've seen the way you are with him, and you've been hanging out too much to be considered just friends."

Right, Dylan knows too; he can't be the only one. Po thought, maybe Thame was just being shy. 

"What way?" Thame asks.

"Don't do that with me, I'm not dumb," Dylan said as Po heard plates being stacked on top of one another. "You're not like that with anyone else. I hear you two talk at night, and the way you focus on him when he's in the room. He's not just a friend."

Dylan sees it too—Po thought as he clasped his hands together, praying that he's not the only one. And that Thame might just be joking with Dylan, or shy. 

For a few seconds, he didn't hear anything but the plates, utensils, and water. So he took a look, and when he did, he saw that Thame was staring at the counter, thinking. 

Then he exhales slightly and shrugs his shoulders, and then simply says. 

"You're reading too much into it, Dylan."

Oh. 

Oh. 

.....Oh.

"Am I?" Dylan asks back as Po's chest tightens, his mouth hanging open, unsure what to do or how to react to what he just heard. 

"Yes," Thame said. 

"But....you do like him, right?" Dylan pressed. "I mean, I'm not saying you have to call it anything, but it is so obvious that you care. You two look like—"

"Friends. Good friends."

Friends. Good friends, Thame said. 

He heard Dylan scoff and then laughed, "Friends or like more than that? No?"

And then another silence. 

And Po, so badly, he really wanted to go run in the kitchen and shout at Thame and tell him to say something, just not friends. 

But he knew that he couldn't, and he won't. Not when his vision is starting to blur now, not when his throat is starting to tighten around his own neck, and not when he cannot swallow anything anymore. 

Then he heard Thame sigh, "Dylan.....P'Po....P'Po is....he's a good person."

Good person, Thame said. 

"He's kind, and easy to be with, he's....he listens," Thame said and then lets out a soft breath of contemplation. "I like having him around....."

But what? Po asked impatiently in his head. 

"But what? I know you want to say something more, Thame." Dylan said.

"But I don't see him in that light, or in that way."

Final. 

Clean. 

No space for argument. 

Thame doesn't like him, and it was just him imagining everything all along. 

It was really just him all along. 

Just him. 

"You're sure?" He heard Dylan say from the kitchen as he tried to wipe the tears running down his face. 

"Yeah...I'm very sure," Thame said. "He's nice, a really nice man. But....I really don't feel that kind of thing for him. I just....don't see myself being with him in that manner."

I don't see myself being with him. 

I don't see myself being with him. 

I don't see myself being with him. 

I don't see myself being with him. 

I don't see myself being with him. 

Thame.....doesn't see himself....being with him. 

Po, with that thought, pressed his lips together tighter, but it didn't stop the sounds of his cries, the way his breath stutters unevenly, and the way his eyes burn more, and before he could even think about it, he let out a gasp for air. 

Good for him that the water was on, or he would be heard. 

He can't. 

He can't be found out, like this. 

So he continued listening. 

"Well, alright," Dylan says quietly. "If you're sure, then so be it."

"I am very sure."

And there, Jun's voice comes back in his head—You're not special, Po. 

In that moment, the only thing he thought was that maybe he should have just listened to Jun. After all, good things never find him, never. 

If it failed to find him a few years ago, then why would it find him now?

---

The next morning, nothing really changed. 

Po woke up the way he used to after nights spent up late because of work, but this time it wasn't just physical exhaustion. It was the emotional pain, hunger to be loved and wanted, and the need to have him. 

He doesn't really remember how he got home, but he does remember saying something about an emergency to Gam and Pepper as he excused himself and ran like a madman. He wasn't sure how he got out of MARS' dorm, but he does remember why his chest is in pain right now. 

But before he drowned in it, he shook his head and reached for his phone instead. And right there, first on the list—Thame. 

Po's thumbs stopped right on track. But once he clicked it, the timestamps stacked one after another, and showed how Thame had a message from the moment he left, and right until just a few minutes ago. 

There was a huge gap in the middle, 3 hours or so. Thame had probably fallen asleep, but still, the man was looking for him and checking on him. 

He tapped it open. 

7:25 pm

Thame: Hey, P'Po. P'Gam and Per told me you had an emergency? They also told me that you were crying when you left. Are you okay?

Thame: I'm really worried.....you left your blazer here too. 

7:39 pm

Thame: Do you think we can meet tomorrow if you're finally free? I'll give this blazer to you, and we can also talk about anything.....the emergency.

Thame: I'm really worried. Please reply to me when you get this message. 

8:23 pm

Thame: P'Po, have you reached home?

Thame: I'm sorry for bombarding you with messages, but if it'll make it better, the boys want to know too if you're doing just fine...

8:45 pm

Thame: P'Po...

Thame: I'm really, really worried. 

Thame: Did something happened? Your parents? Is it Auntie and her husband? Or is it Uncle and his wife? Did they fought?

Thame: Please...message me, I'm really worried. 

9:12 pm

Thame: Per already went out with P'Gam, and we're done cleaning up here. And I tried calling but its not going through....are you busy? Or are you already resting?

Thame: Please, can you just let me know if you're okay. Please. 

9:47 pm

Thame: If something happened, you can tell me, okay?

Thame: I'll stay up late to do some stuff with Dylan anyway, you can message or call me anytime. 

Thame: You don't need to handle it alone. 

10:18 pm

Thame: I keep thinking about what Per and P'Gam said, that you were crying before you left....but I also remembered how you were so happy when we were eating. 

Thame: Did something happen here?

Thame: Did someone said anything? I can talk to them.

10:56 pm

Thame: I'm really overthinking now. 

Thame: Please tell me if you're safe, P'Po. 

11:34 pm

Thame: I don't like this, P'Po....

12:08 am

Thame: You always reply, you would have replied by now.

Thame: Like, 'im home,' or 'im okay.' I'll take anything. 

12:52 am

Thame: I’m sorry if I’m being too much.

Thame: I just.....I don’t know what’s going on.

1:27 am

Thame: Did I miss something tonight?

5:16 am

Thame: I fell asleep for a bit.

Thame: Still no message from you

Thame: I'm more worried now. 

5:18 am

Thame: P’Po, please.

5:26 am

Thame: If you’re upset with me, can you at least tell me why?

5:41 am

Thame: Did I do something wrong?

6:03 am

Thame: I keep thinking back to last night and I don’t know what I did at all. Or if some of the boys said or did something. 

Thame: Was it us? 

Thame: What happened?

6:25 am

Thame: If I said something, or if I didn’t notice something I should not have. I'm sorry. I won't do it again. 

Thame: Please just tell me you're okay and you're safe. 

6:42 am

Thame: Just tell me. I’ll fix it.

7:05 am

Thame: P’Po, please answer me when you wake up.

Thame: I’m really worried about you.

And then there was Jun's message. 

7:18 am

Jun: I told you. 

After that morning, something in Po changed, and even he, himself, didn't know what. It was like a continuous tug in his chest that refused to be eased, and it was annoying. It was painful, and it was just there, stubborn and staying. Even then, he still got up and ignored every single message that he had. He prepared himself and still went to work. From the outside, nothing looked wrong; he was sure of that—save for his eyes, he was doing just fine. He dressed the same, moved the same, spoke when spoken to. If anything, he was quieter, but not enough to draw concern, just enough to feel slightly out of reach.

A few people noticed, though. Except for the puffiness around his eyes, there was also the way his face looked like sleep had only walked slightly past him without actually staying. He had an answer ready before anyone could look too closely and ask, something simple and believable that required no follow-up. It worked. It always did; it worked when Earn left.

This time, it will work too.

So when someone asked if he was okay, he said he was fine, and it was just a slight fever and nothing too serious. No one pressed, and that was good, because Po didn’t have anything else to give.

After that, he worked.

That became the only thing he allowed himself to hold onto. Work was simple. It had structure, a beginning and an end, a clear expectation of what needed to be done. It didn’t ask him to feel, didn’t ask him to explain. It just required him to show up, to focus, to finish everything that Mick had asked of him. On normal days, he'd feel shitty, but today, he needed that. Needed the hours, the pay, the reassurance that something in his life was still constant, still within his control.

So he did his job.

The day moved the way it always did. His tasks lined up, and deadlines met one after another, conversations drifted in if important, and out if not, and he didn't need to mingle or engage because, in here, he just needed to work. He nodded when needed, responded when necessary, and smiled when looked at. He let himself be a part of a space that did not feel real even to him. But that was good, too, because it was enough to blend in without standing out. 

Like every single thing around him, everything was totally blurry. 

Except for one thing. 

His phone. On DND. And facing the table's face. 

There were no calls. 

No messages. 

No interruptions broke through the silence as he worked. It was fragile and could easily break, but at least it was quiet. Because if he didn’t see anything, didn’t hear anything, then he didn’t have to decide what to do with it. He could exist in that small space of his office where nothing demanded his answer and attention.

And then the lunch time.

Lunch came the same way it always did, and people moved around him, grabbing food, stepping out, filling the space with noise and movement that felt too chaotic for his mind. 

And then he saw it.

No—he saw him. 

He looked way too familiar. 

And it made Po's chest tighten the way it did last night. 

The hoodie, the leather jacket, the worn-out jeans, and the sling bag. 

He hadn't even seen the person wearing those yet, but it was already enough to send him into a mess. 

Po moved without thinking. He reached for his phone and immediately slipped out from his office station silently, making sure he wasn't drawing attention. Then he walked to the storage room down the hall that was always empty. No one uses it anymore; no one checks it, and it exists only as an overlooked space where items such as trash are left for the staff to collect. 

He stepped inside and closed the door behind him. 

Then he stared at the vacant space. 

Didn't say anything, but just stayed there. 

And time passed, minutes that turned into half an hour, and somehow, he felt like it was already long enough. When he stepped out, the usual noise that meant an artist was in their office was no longer there. When he walked back to the hallway and peeked down the other corridor, he caught a glimpse of Thame. He was already walking away and retreating from his small space in the office, and Po felt himself breathe easier with that. 

Back in his chair, work continued without thinking twice. 

Then, from then on, he kept moving, and it became routine. 

From that day on and the following ones, he'd go to work, act like everything was fine. If he saw Thame or any of the MARS members from a distance, he'd immediately re-route to the storage room. 

For a while, it worked. 

For a few days, Po moved through the building without having to talk to any of the boys or Gam. He became careful and secretive, and some said he looked as if he were hiding from someone he owed money to. 

Some said he looked dimmed down now. 

Some said he looked thinner. 

Some said he looked too stressed. 

People talked, and eventually, words moved faster than anything. And for almost a week, he managed to stay just out of reach. It was a Friday when his streak was broken. 

At first, it felt like the days were just a little too slow for his own liking. He didn't want to acknowledge that he just wanted to go home. But by the time the office's working hours began, his energy was already at its lowest, but he pushed through. 

During the night, Po was already packing up, ready to leave, ready to step out from the job that Mick randomly threw on him over lunchtime that day. He was just so ready to go home, so he tried to fix his table faster and his bag, too. 

Until that. 

"You're hiding from me."

Po's hands stopped moving, but it continued not long after. 

He didn't say anything. 

"P'Po, you're hidi—you're ignoring me."

Po turns around and fixes his bag, not really meeting Thame's eyes. "Hey....Sorry. Busy." And then he started walking on the opposite side of where the other was standing. 

But as soon as he did, Thame steps closer, not buying his words. "The whole week? You were busy?"

"Yes.....You know P'Mick."

"You left last week during dinner....you didn't say anything. You haven't replied to any of my messages, it's been five days."

Po then speeds walk to the hallway. "Yeah, I have been having emergencies. It was....messy. Sorry."

Thame followed his pace. "What kind of emergency?" The man asked as they speedwalk through the hallways. 

"....Family stuff, it's handled now."

"Then why are you still avoiding me?"

"...."

"You're still running away," Thame said as they reached the front of the elevator. 

"I'm not avoiding you," Po replies, finally eyeing the man slightly before looking away again. "I've been....busy, Thame."

And then silence. 

Thame steps closer to him and blocks his hands from the elevator buttons. But the doors already slid open, "Come with me," Thame says. 

Po sighed in defeat, but he didn't argue. He walks inside, and once they got inside it, Thame pushed every single button so that it would open on every single floor to prolong their way down the ground floor. 

"What's wrong, P'Po?"

He shook his head. "Nothing."

"Then look at me."

Po did not; he stared straight ahead. 

"P'Po," Thame took a step closer, and he took two steps back. ".....What....what happened to us?"

Po only looked away. He doesn't trust himself to say anything to Thame without giving himself up. 

Without giving his heart up. 

So he kept his mouth closed until the elevator reached the ground floor. Po moved immediately; he moved past Thame. He pushed the younger just enough and started to walk away, but he also looked back and raised his phone to Thame, "I'll message you later, Thame—"

He was such a liar. 

"—I need to go. Sorry."

"Po—"

"Bye!"

"P'Po! I have—"

Po ran as fast as he could out. Once he got in the car, he asked the driver to drive as fast as possible. And then when he looked back, THame was outside, running towards the car. 

For a second, he held the knob of the car door. But after a long time, he let go, then he turned his head away. Because he knows that if he looks any longer, he will ask the driver to stop as fast as he can. 

He knows he won't leave. 

So he looked away, because it was better this way. 

He needed to protect himself, too. 

---

And that's how he found himself in a freaking bar. 

Po wasn't even supposed to be there. 

The bar only existed because the driver had taken a different route from his usual one. The driver said something about traffic, something about a shortcut. Po hadn’t been paying attention until the neon lights hit the window, catching his eye in a way nothing else had that night.

So he told the car to stop.

He didn’t think, and he entered the chaotic and noisy place. He had been to one or two bars before, but all were with his friends, never alone, and never for the reason of being embarrassingly rejected before he even confessed to someone he liked. 

Once he got inside, and once he realized how utterly left out he looked with his shirt and pink button-up on top, he immediately felt that he didn't belong there. 

However, he was here now. 

He continued inside, took a stool, sat, rested against the counter, and waited. The woman making drinks looked like she was still busy with other customers, so he tried to look like he knew what he was doing, even though he clearly didn't. 

And it might have shown, because someone suddenly popped out from beside him. 

"New here?"

The voice was from his side, but Po didn't bother looking. 

At most, it was probably another soul looking for someone to be with tonight, but he wasn't interested, so he just nodded his head. From there, he heard a soft and cool laughter. It sounded easy, unlike what his brain was left on at the moment. 

"Thought so....you've got that look."

"What look?" He asked as a frown formed on his face. 

"The one where you're acting like you're fine but you're not."

Po laughed at that, "Is it that obvious?"

"Sadly so."

"....."

"Let me guess," the man added, leaning on the space beside him. "heartbreak?"

"....Seems like you've seen a lot of people like me here. Jackpot."

That earned a real laugh this time.

“Yeah. You definitely need a drink.”

Po didn’t argue; he thinks the same.

“Go ahead,” he muttered. “Surprise me.”

The man did not hesitate; he signaled the bartender with a lift of his hand, making Po realize he was a regular. And a few minutes later, a drink slid in front of Po.

"Watersplash cherry," the bartender said with a knowing smile before walking off. 

And he really didn't care; he just needed a drink right now. So he reached for it, but before he could, a hand caught his wrist. 

"No, not like that."

Po sighed, but this time, from annoyance. He kept his hold of the shot and then turned on his left, but when he did, his brain stopped working altogether. 

"....W-what? T-Thame?" 

Thame. 

It....this is Thame. 

Well, the face was Thame's, but everything else wasn't him. The hair was longer, slightly messy, like he didn’t care enough to fix it. His shirt hung loose, a few buttons undone, sleeves pushed back carelessly. There was a chain at his neck, catching the moving light. And his expression, that smirk. 

It wasn't gentle like Thame's. 

It was unkindly gentle. 

That made him stare, and it seemed like the man noticed it easily. 

That's when he saw a wider smile, if not a smirk. 

"Yeah. I get that a lot. The idol kid, right?"

Before Po could say anything, the man took the glass from him, "Here, let me teach you. Watch carefully."

Then the man leaned in, close to his own lips, not to Po's. But before that, the man looked at him and whispered, "Relax. Your head is too loud."

Just like that, the man took the alcohol, drank it for himself, then pulled his face and transferred the contents of the shot to Po's mouth. In short, the man just drank the alcohol and spat it into his mouth. 

And instantly, he pulled back, pushed the man away. "What the hell?! Thame! What—"

The man laughed and wiped his mouth, and Po mirrored him before looking at the other, horrified. 

"Nope, not Thame—I'm Dean."

Nope. 

This had to be Thame. 

"You look exactly like—"

"Yeah, yeah," the man said, waving his arms to dismiss it. "Heard it before. But nope, not me."

Po looked at the man and briefly stood up. He took money from his pocket, put it on the counter, and pushed himself away from the chair. 

"I'm not doing this today, Thame—"

"Wait, your drink's not done yet. You paid, right? You should get the full experience then." 

"I don't care—"

But the man named Dean suddenly pulled Po's waist confidently and pulled him closer until he was plastered in between the man's legs. 

Their faces were suddenly inches apart. 

"Do you want to get your money's worth or not?" Dean asked. 

Po looked at the man, and somehow, he couldn't say anything. 

He couldn't even move. 

There, Dean's gaze evidently moved on his lips, then back up, and with a smirk, the man said. "Yeah, I thought so, Bambi."

Dean leaned in. 

But this time, there was no alcohol. Instead, it was his lips being consumed by the man who just introduced himself as Dean, while looking completely like Thame. From a feverish and hungry kiss, it then turned to a tongue being pushed right through his throat. 

And when they pulled back, it wasn't rushed. Unlike his initial plan, he didn't hate it now. 

Po realized it late, too, but he saw how his hands were gripping Dean's shoulders, how his body had leaned in instead of away, and how his breathing had gone more uneven than when he ran away to the car just a few minutes ago. 

Then he saw the faint sheen on Dean's lips, and because of the lights, he also saw a string that connected his own lips to the man's. Along with that was the taste of something sweet and bitter, the shot. 

He wanted to say something. 

But his thoughts refused to catch up. 

And the only thing he could say was, "...Bambi?"

Dean’s smirk deepened, the hands on his waist tightened, and the man's face moved closer. Then, his thumb came up, brushing lightly at the corner of Po’s mouth—sultry and slow, like he had the whole night to do just that. 

“Look at you,” he murmured. “All wide-eyed, shiny big orbs."

"....What?" Po whispered in confusion, but the way Dean's eyes softened on him only made everything more dangerous than it already was. 

“You’ve got really pretty eyes. Makes me want to ruin you a little.”

What the fuck?

Po stared at him.

Heart racing.

Mind completely off-balance.

Because nothing about this made sense—

And yet somehow, he still hadn’t pulled away, and that was the scariest thing that was happening right now.