Chapter 7

They didn’t walk for long, Joss guiding Gawin through the streets. He had no idea where they were going. They just needed to go far. Away from the crowd, the café, and the bitter feelings Podd’s appearance had stirred.

Gawin was silent beside him, lost in thought and still visibly shaken. Joss stayed quiet too, walking slowly and stealing glances as Gawin collected himself.

What had happened with Podd? Did he come to try and win Gawin back? The singer had looked torn, his brown eyes shifting from ice to sorrow as he listened to his former screen partner. In the end, thankfully, whatever Podd had come to do hadn’t worked.

Joss risked another glance at Gawin, who was chewing his lip as he followed him.

He hadn’t asked where they were going. Not that Joss had an answer to give him anyway. He was still trying to wrap his mind around it all. Podd had sworn there was nothing between them anymore, but either he’d lied or he’d changed his mind.

Joss glanced again at Gawin, who walked quietly at his side, eyes down behind his frames, the air heavy. Joss felt an invisible pressure drop on his shoulders.

How can I help him? He wondered, with woe.

Gawin didn’t seem bothered by the blazing sun, though his face was reddening with the heat. Joss shifted sideways, shifting their spots so Gawin could walk closer to the line of buildings, steal some shade, and enjoy the breath of AC that spilled from the tiny shop doors.

They reached a red light.

Joss barred Gawin’s way instinctively with a watchful arm, preventing him from going further. A line of motorbikes passed them at full speed, blowing fumes in their noses. Joss’ heart was still thudding after the bikes and their danger had gone.

“Sorry,” Gawin said, wide-eyed at how close he’d been to getting run over.

“It’s okay.”

Joss gave him a reassuring smile, though tension still pinched the corners of his eyes.

“Are you good?” He asked, stepping closer to the singer. Just in case.

“Yeah.”

Gawin’s gaze cleared as he took in their surroundings.

The light turned green.

“Where are you taking me?” He asked as they crossed the street.

Joss quickly scanned the area. He needed something, anything, to get Gawin out of his dark thoughts. Then, he spotted it. A few paces away stood a small arcade, its windows splattered with fading gaming posters. Inside, neons were scattered around dark walls, and various machines flashing pixelated characters, cars, and machines, buzzed with retro sounds, their buttons glowing invitingly.

“I bet I can beat you at King of Fighters,” Joss said, jerking a taunting thumb toward it.

Gawin let out a surprised laugh, amusement brightening his features.

“What?”

Joss pushed the door open. A chime rang, and a bored teenager behind the counter greeted them, barely looking up from his phone.

“Didn’t you say you learned how to throw a punch?” Joss teased, pulling out his wallet. He bought a hundred coins, the largest package. “Here’s your chance to hit me without consequences. So…” Joss shook in front of Gawin’s face a tiny basket full of silver chips. “Are you game?”

Gawin snorted.

He raised toward Joss a gaze full of disbelief, before a grin spread across his face. He reached into the basket and snatched a handful of coins.

“Game on.”

Joss didn’t know if it was because Gawin was a musician, but just like in basketball, he was exceptionally agile, his movements fast and precise. And even though Joss was an actual fighter and also had quick reflexes, Gawin easily dominated the game.

Focused, he pressed his lips together as he smashed the buttons with impressive speed, hitting combo after combo. On the screen, his small pixelated character jumped, kicked, and punched without mercy. Joss tried to fight back, but Gawin was just better, pulling off techniques Joss hadn’t even known existed, a vein bulging at his temple with concentration. He had pushed back the sleeves of his shirt, and leaned over the machine, his long legs anchored on the floor as he obliterated Joss’ character.

He was unbelievably hot. Joss found himself distracted more than a few times. That’s the reason he clung to after losing four games out of five. He was not that bad at the game. Gawin was just too good-looking.

“Okay, you win!” Joss raised defeated hands in the air. His fingertips hurt from slamming the buttons so hard.

Gawin beamed at him, his posture relaxed, the earlier worry completely wiped away from his features. He leaned to the side, childish and cocky, and wiggled a teasing finger at Joss.

“I thought you never started a game you couldn’t win,” Gawin he asked, his eyes glinting in amusement. Joss’ heart swelled at the sight. He would lose a thousand more games if it could Gawin guarantee Gawin’s happiness.

“I said I always gave my best… How are you this good?”

Gawin crossed his arms and raised mock-thoughtful eyes. “Maybe I had a little practice… or a lot of practice.” He chuckled at Joss’ outraged expression. “My sister and I played this game a lot growing up. So I know a trick or two.”

“Oh, and you didn’t think of mentioning that before murdering me?”

Gawin patted his arm in comfort, his warm hands settling on Joss’ bicep.

“A good player never reveals his tricks.”

His body always ran a little hot, Joss noticed, as he looked down at Gawin, the hand on his arm sending delicious shivers up his spine. He was struck once again by how handsome Gawin was, his feathery eyelashes shadowing his dark eyes, pupils large and gleaming, feline-like in their intensity.

Joss’ pulse quickened. His gaze slid to the curve of Gawin’s cheek, then traced the line of his straight nose before finally landing on his lips. Want pooled in his guts. He was hit by the sudden need to cup that pretty face and find out how hot Gawin’s mouth would feel against his.

Joss licked his dry lips, feeling hazy.

He looked away, ashamed.

Taking advantage of someone when they’re down… After all he’s been through today… Really, Wayar, really? Guilt surged, smothering the desire. Now was not the time for this. He needed to get a grip, and make sure Gawin felt better.

Joss cleared his throat and took a step back. Gawin’s hand fell back to his side, leaving a searing print on Joss’ skin.

Joss ignored the pang of loss at the absence of contact.

He met the eye of the cashier across the room. The tee had put their phone down and was watching them with a smirk. Joss let out an embarrassed laugh that came out more like a gargle, and turned his attention back to Gawin. The singer had an odd expression on his face.

“So… Want a rematch?” Joss asked. They still had plenty of coins.

Gawin studied him for a few seconds with that mind-numbing stare, turning Joss’ knees into jelly. He swayed on his feet.

“No, let’s try something else.” Gawin at last, his warm smile returning. “You paid. I shouldn’t humiliate you too much.”

Joss barked a laugh.

“Ouch.”

They played almost every game in the arcade: shooting aliens, racing cars across the world, battling at air hockey, pucks thudding on the table, before finally spending their last coins on Dance Dance Revolution.

It had been Joss’ idea. Gawin grimaced at him before conceding. They both delivered abysmal performances, pounding uncoordinated feet on the dance pad, shoving each other to steal the lead, Gawin nearly toppling off the platform.

By the end, Joss’ shirt clung to his back with sweat, and Gawin was breathless with laughter. The screen flashed, declaring Joss the winner. Joss sneered proudly. His pride was saved.

Panting after three rounds of stomping on glowing arrows, their coin basket empty, they drifted toward the claw machines. Gawin, flushed from exertion, had stripped off his overshirt and slung it carelessly over his shoulder. Nose to the glass, he checked all the available prizes before leaning back against one of the machines. Its bright, blue glow circled his silhouette and darkened his features. Joss had to squint to make out his face. Like this, Gawin looked like a prize, too. A prize Joss would strive to win.

“Should I get more coins?” Joss asked.

“No…” Gawin said, all teeth. Though he’d gone back to being strangely quiet, he no longer looked sad. Joss wondered with a pang in his chest if Podd was still on his mind. “You lost the bet, remember? You owe me.” Gawin continued after a pause.

“Ah,” Joss raked a hand through his hair, ignoring the stuttering of his pulse. It was getting long, he’d need a trim before the competition. “What do you want?”

Gawin straightened and stepped closer. He looked taller then, the few centimeters that differentiated them suddenly meaningless. Gawin stopped close, too close. Looming. Joss’ breath caught in his throat.

Around them, the arcade blared with robotic voices, machines chanting and jeering, urging customers to play.

“What do you offer?” Gawin’s tone was velvety.

“Mmh…” Joss hummed, his body heating up at the renewed proximity. “Shoot your shot. I’ll see what I can do.”

“Anything, then?” Gawin asked, voice low.

Joss’ eyebrows shot up.

“Huh?”

Was this… Was Gawin actually making a move on him? Joss was sure his face had turned burgundy, every cell of his body reacting at once. The air thinned as the singer approached, blood rushing south. Good God. His brain short-circuited. For a split second, its two halves warred, all previous resolutions ebbing: one half urged him to grab Gawin by the shirt and devour him whole, while the other screamed to flee before it was too late.

Joss’ hands twitched at his sides.

The first half was winning.

He was about to act on it when Gawin giggled, shattering the moment. He raised a hand to his mouth, hiding a wide grin. His eyes gleamed with mischief, and under the arcade’s neon lights, it looked like fireworks exploding in them.

“Ice cream.” He said, between laughter. “Buy me an ice cream and we’re set.”

“Ice cream?” Joss repeated dumbly, his heart still beating frenetically. He shifted, trying to hide the heat swelling inside his pants.

“Yeah,” Gawin said, eyes crinkling with jest. “I want a really big one.”

 

***

 

“Thank you for today. You’re really fun to be around,” Gawin said.

Joss smiled as Gawin let out a delighted sound at the first taste of his ice-cream cone.

He had chosen the largest option: three scoops of decadent creamy goodness, topped with chocolate syrup and sprinkles. The cone was so impressive that a few children had thrown him envious looks as they passed by. After leaving the arcade, they had found an ice-cream truck at the edge of a small park. Painted in eye-catching shades of pink, purple, and green, the truck blasted 80s Thai music, the owner singing along with gusto.

A few plastic tables and chairs were scattered nearby. Gawin had picked a spot in the corner, where the breeze was cooler. Not far from them, children played tag, chasing each other while blowing soap bubbles.

Gawin’s gaze followed a drifting bubble, its surface shimmering with rainbow colours. He hummed along with the music. His ice cream was so big it required a spoon, and he bobbed it like a conductor’s baton with the beat.

“I’m a fun guy,” Joss said matter-of-factly, and maybe puffing his chest a little too much.

He took a sip of his vanilla milkshake. It was cloyingly sweet, almost stinging his tongue, but he took another sip anyway.

Gawin sneered at him.

“I guess you are…” He admitted with a smile. His enormous ice cream was already melting under the heat, dripping down his fingers. “The more I hang out with you, the more I realize you’re nothing like I first thought.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Joss asked playfully as he handed Gawin a stack of napkins.

“You’re just…” Gawin trailed off. He wiped his fingers, thoughtful. “You’re just different, is all.”

Joss gaped at him.

A little girl with lopsided pigtails ran past, leaving a stream of bubbles in her wake as she giggled gleefully.

“I’m not sure how I’m supposed to take that…” He said.

Gawin took a large mouthful of his ice cream, eyes still tracking the kids’ game.

“It’s a compliment.” He said finally, looking back at Joss.

His cheeks were rosy, and his smile slightly teasing.

Joss exhaled slowly through his nose, soft tingles spreading from his fingertips to his chest. I like him so much, he thought, with a bit of despair. He looked away before the words slipped out.

“Well, thanks.”

Gawin tilted his head, beaming.

“You’re welcome!”

They lingered for a while, their conversation meandering from topic to topic without much rhyme or reason. It felt nice. Easy. Natural. This, Joss thought with a quiet smile, feels awfully like a date. If it weren’t for Podd’s earlier intrusion, the day would have been perfect. Just thinking about the older actor soured his mood.

They settled into a comfortable silence, Gawin chewing through his cone with determination, one of his knees bouncing lightly under the table as he munched, his cheeks puffed with food. Joss scrunched his nose. Too cute.

“Uh, about earlier…” Gawin said at last, swallowing thickly. “I wanted to apologize. For what happened with Podd, I mean.”

A sudden heaviness fell between them, gloom circling back into the air. Joss set his empty milkshake cup on the table and leaned forward, his features sharpening with seriousness.

Gawin’s knee bounced harder.

“I didn’t mean to… Make a scene or cause drama… I’m sorry. You shouldn’t have had to deal with that.”

He fiddled with his spoon, frowning. His shoulders hunched as he twirled the plastic spoon between his fingers. But it was the shame weighing on his posture that hit Joss the hardest.

Joss sighed, sympathy and anger twisting together as he studied the singer. He never wanted to see shame on Gawin’s face again. Especially when he’d done nothing wrong.

“Hey,” Joss said, halting Gawin’s fidgeting with a hand on his wrist. “It’s okay. I’m glad I was there.”

Gawin’s frown deepened.

“Why?” He asked, confused.

Joss smiled. He wanted to pull Gawin into his chest, stroke his hair, and melt the worries away with his touch.

“We had a great time afterwards. We left that stuffy place…” Joss raised a finger with each reason, his other hand still on Gawin’s wrist. He raised his nose, glancing at Gawin from the corner of his eye. “I even proved who the real Dance Dance Revolution Champion is… ”

“You were just as bad as me!” Gawin blurted with a laugh.

Joss ignored him and lifted a fourth finger, grinning.

“… and I got to cheer you up. To be there for you, when you needed me. That’s another win.”

A soft, cooling breeze brushed their skins.

Gawin’s mouth fell open, stunned. His face flushed crimson, his pulse skipping a beat under Joss’ thumb. He gripped the spoon tightly.

“So, you have nothing to apologize for,” Joss concluded, holding his gaze. For a moment, they were suspended in a bubble of time, drowning into each other’s eyes, and Gawin’s pulse hammering under Joss’ fingers. Music, voices, and the bustle of the park, dimming to a blur.

Then, as it always did, the bubble popped. Gawin blinked and pulled his hand back to his chest. Ears burning red in embarrassment, he looked away.

Joss’ smile widened.

Silence settled between them once more, the pressure in the air wavering. Gawin had dropped the spoon on the table and was now drumming his fingers against both of his bouncing legs. Every so often, he sneaked glances at Joss, who pretended not to notice.

Joss slid to a more comfortable position, crossing his arms over his chest. The children had stopped running around and were now sitting under a tree with their caretaker, wolfing down snacks. A slow rock ballad spilled from the truck, an electric guitar strumming in lamentation.

Joss bit his tongue, contemplative. The mood was lighter now, Gawin’s frown had softened to a single worried line. Joss was glad he’d put a smile back on his face, but something still bothered him. He hated to bring the subject back, yet curiosity chewed at his insides.

“If it’s okay… could you what happened out there? What did Podd want?” He asked, regretting the question as soon as it had crossed his mouth. Gawin folded into himself even more beside him. Joss cursed himself for asking.

“Oh,” Gawin murmured, his gaze dropping to the cobbled ground. “He just came to apologize.”

He nudged a rock with the tip of his sneaker, hands gripping the sides of his chair. Joss’ jaw tightened. What did Podd do to upset him this much?

“He was my first real friend in this industry, you know?” Gawin went on, chewing his lip, gaze veiled with memories. “My first partner… and I was his, too. Everything was just so new for both of us. You know how confusing it can be.”

Joss nodded. Their line of work could be difficult for some people, especially for the young and impressionable. He’d heard too many stories of aspiring actors burned by the industry.

“He just has a hard time accepting we’re better off as friends. Especially since -” Gawin flicked toward him, then away. He stumbled over his words. “Well. Whatever. Nothing major happened between us or anything.”

Joss’ gaze glided over Gawin’s face, searching for a crack. A frown, a pout, anything to help him decode the tangle of thoughts inside the singer’s head. But Gawin was unreadable, written in a language Joss was not fluent in yet. Joss pressed his lips into a thin line. Frustration coiled inside him, and questions burned at the back of his throat. He wanted details. He wanted everything.

“Did you love him?” The question escaped him, nerves crushing his insides in a ruthless grip.

Gawin inhaled sharply, as if the words had slapped him. When he looked at Joss, fear flashed in his eyes.

His mouth opened and closed a few times wordlessly, confusion and unease painted across his beautiful face. Joss’ heart froze. Gawin finally dropped his gaze back to the stones and shook his head.

“I- I don’t know,” he whispered, the corners of his mouth pulled down.

The pain that followed his words bit deep. Jealousy slithered up Joss’ throat, serpentine.

He doesn’t know.

Maybe he did love him.

Maybe he still does.

Gawin shot to his feet abruptly. He braced his hands on his hips. A wobbly smile tugged at his lips, insincere.

“How about we head back?” He asked, too quickly.

Joss nodded.

“Sure.”

His voice sounded rough, even to his own ears.

***

Jab.

Right hook.

Lead uppercut.

Straight right.

The loud thud of leather against leather and the clinking of the chains as the bag swung reverberated through the gym. Joss shifted his stance, stepped around the bag, and struck. The ghost of his future opponent loomed before him, a threatening shadow.

The match was only days away.

He felt good. Confident.

His body was in peak condition.

The shadow charged, morphing into another rival. Joss dodged, fist tight at his middle, his guard strong. In one fluid motion, he planted his left foot, twisted his hip, and launched an uppercut. The impact cracked against the bag.

Joss knew he was being immature.

“Did you love him?”

“I- I don’t know.”

Gawin’s answer echoed in his head, bringing in its wake fresh waves of jealousy.

Joss adjusted his earphones and wiped his brow, before switching to footwork drills.

Every time he and Gawin made progress, something (or someone) pushed them back two steps. Infuriating.

It’s all in the past, Joss told himself, throwing another punch. He wants them to stay friends. 

Still, wild scenarios kept racing through his mind ever since that day, his brain trying to piece together scraps of information. Gawin had admitted he and Podd had a confusing relationship. That wasn’t unusual for actors. Sometimes the lines blurred, leading people to mistake their character’s personality or feelings with their own. Sometimes feelings bled through the screen. It had happened to Joss.

At the end of the day, they had to remember to shed the character’s skin and stay grounded. A good support system helped, but not everyone had that. And in BL series, actors spent so much time together that lines only blurred further. Catching feelings wasn’t uncommon.

Podd and Gawin having a fling for a while, even if Joss hated that thought, wasn’t far-fetched. They’d ended their partnership years ago, though, so maybe it’d gone deeper than Gawin had let on. Joss couldn’t shake the feeling there was a lot more to the story…

The deep bass in his earbuds cut out.

His phone buzzed inside his gym bag. Panting, Joss pulled off a boxing glove and tapped an earbud to accept the call.

“Allo?” He said, breath ragged, sweat dripping down his neck.

The voice on the other end startled him: P’Ark, a director he knew well.

“Good morning, Joss. I hope I’m not interrupting.” The man said cheerfully.

Joss grabbed a towel and patted down his neck, intrigued.

“Not at all. I was just working out. How can I help you, sir?”

“I’ll keep it brief. I just spoke to your manager, and she said it’d be better to call you directly. I’m working on a new series, and I want you for one of the main roles. This part was made for you.”

Pleasantly surprised, Joss thanked him. Ark was a very well-known figure in the industry. Getting picked by him was no small honor.

“It’s a supernatural love story. I think you’d be a perfect vampire.”

“Me? A vampire?”

Joss raised his brows. He’d never thought he’d be cast for such a role. He didn’t really fit the vampire look. Vampires, to him, were long, thin, and pale creatures with delicate otherworldly beauty. Nothing like him.

“Yes!” Ark replied with enthusiasm. “A modern Thai vampire. You would be perfect!”

Joss had trouble picturing it, but the idea of playing a superstrong, bloodthirsty creature of the night seemed like a lot of fun. He told the director as much.

“Amazing. Let’s set a meeting to go over the details.” Ark concluded.

“Sure. Thank you for the opportunity. I’m honored.”

“Don’t mention it,” the director said with an evasive laugh. “We’re going to make a great show together, Joss.”

 

***

The boxing ring felt huge.

Bigger than the one he usually trained in. In reality, both the rings were the same size, but under the lights, with the crowd cheering from the stands and the MC shouting excitedly at his side, everything seemed massive. Important.

Joss bounced from foot to foot, shaking tension out of his muscles. Across the ring, his opponent slipped off his white boxing robe, ready to spar.

Adrenaline surged up Joss’ spine. He smiled.

Finally.

The months of training had led to this. His smile faded, soon replaced by deep, unwavering focus. In his mind’s eye, he saw the fight unfold. He visualized driving his opponent into the corner, throwing a straight right, followed by a hook, his rival’s guard breaking, and Joss would strike. He’d repeat the routines he had practiced and throw punch after punch until the referee lifted his hand in victory.

You’ve got this, Wayar. Winning is the only option.

As that thought crossed his mind, his gaze swept the crowd, catching on the section where all his friends and colleagues gathered. The sheer number who had come to support him filled his chest with gratitude.

And then he saw him.

On the far right, nearly hidden among his peers, stood a young man in orange frames. Gawin. Just seeing him there strengthened Joss’ spirit. He’d win no matter what.

Gawin caught his stare. His face split into a bright smile, and he pumped two encouraging fists into the air.

Joss nodded once, focused back on the ring, and locked onto a single objective: destroying his opponent.

 

***

The belt around his waist probably weighed five kilograms, but at this moment, it felt like nothing. Fist raised in victory, Joss finally let himself relax. Sweat poured down his body, his muscles ached, and multiple painful bruises were already blooming across his skin, but despite all of it, he felt incredible. High on adrenaline.

Everything had gone according to plan.

An undisputable victory.

The rest of the night blurred together. He accepted his champion’s belt, answered journalists’ questions, and posed for pictures. After rinsing the sweat and grime off his body, he followed his friends to a restaurant where he was rewarded with the largest piece of beef he’d ever seen.

He remembered the joy, the taste of the meat on his tongue, the warmth of his friends celebrating around him. He could still feel the spray of champagne on his skin as Force doused him, and the way his heart had exploded when Gawin, like a sunrise, wrapped his arms around him and whispered:

“Congrats. I guess you’re not just a cocky liar, after all.”

 

***

 

“Please, sit down. Do you want something to drink? Water?”

“Yes, thank you.”

P’Ark’s office resembled him. Warm wood, burnt-yellow accents on the walls, and shelves lined with souvenirs from his travels around the world. The tall wall behind his desk was covered in black and white photographs.

Joss accepted the glass of iced water and took a sip. The AC hummed, its soft buzz soothing. He’d rushed from a shoot to the meeting, and Thailand’s unforgiving heat had clung to him all the way there, so the cool air felt like a blessing.

“Congratulations on winning your match, Joss. I’m sad I couldn’t be there to see it.”

Joss thanked the director with a pleased smile, still high from the victory a few days earlier. They exchanged pleasantries, catching up on their latest projects, the director even telling Joss about his latest travel plans. Joss laughed as Ark recounted his encounter with sharks in Indonesia. Then, after a while, the director slapped his thighs, his features settling into something more serious.

“I won’t take more of your time. I know you’re busy, so let’s talk business.”

Joss’ manager had been vague about the project. She had only said it was a good opportunity and that the director would be better suited to tell him more about it.

“As I mentioned before, it is a vampire romance adapted from a novel, My Golden Blood.”

Joss nodded. He hadn’t read it, but the premise seemed interesting. A modern take on vampirism, in which vampires lived among humans, sustained by synthetic blood rather than hunting flesh.

Joss nodded along with the explanations, intrigued by this unique take.

“Your character, Mark, helps maintain order in the Vampire Society and is the guardian of the Golden Blood, who possess immense powers. Mark and the holder of the Golden Blood fall in love, it’s their story.”

Joss could already picture himself playing a powerful vampire, battling monsters, the action scenes epic and bloody. He and his manager would, of course, need to review the script thoroughly before committing, but the offer was enticing.

“There’s one thing, though.” P’Ark’s voice lowered to a soft, careful sound as he leaned across the desk. “I know you’ve said you don’t want to get involved in the genre, but… The Golden Blood is a boy. This is a BL.”

Joss sighed.

His first instinct was to refuse. He had no issue having a relationship with another man on screen, but BL was a world of its own. It meant long-term commitments and expectations that went far beyond filming. He liked the freedom of lakorns: perform well, avoid scandals. That was it. He’d already dealt with more controversies than he wanted.

Most of all, he couldn’t imagine being linked to another actor so closely.

“It’s an amazing story, Joss. Please, hear me out before you decide. We can discuss the details. You can have a say in the casting. The author is also open to revising the script-”

Unless…

“The other lead hasn’t been cast, yet?” Joss interrupted, his mind turning furiously. He winced at his rude interruption, but the director waved it off, eyes wide with sudden hope.

“No, you’re the only confirmed cast so far. Why? Do you have someone in mind?”

Joss pinched his lips together, mind flooding with images of a possible future. Long filming days with someone he’d support and lean on, someone who’d become closer than family…

“Yes,” he nodded, heart hammering. “There is someone.”