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Pond is only ever certain about a few things in his life.
Pond is certain he’s not terrible at playing the guitar.
Pond is certain physics isn’t the worst subject to study. There are other things that could be worse, organic chemistry is one.
Pond is certain vanilla milkshake tastes best when the weather is warm, midsummer day in June.
Pond is certain One Piece is the best anime to ever be made by mankind. It’s a factual statement.
Pond is certain the clogged sink in his shared bathroom with Joong isn’t going to fix itself, they will actually have to call someone to come and take a look.
Pond is certain about a few things in his life.
Pond is certain that he likes fucking Phuwin, he likes having Phuwin under him. Moaning and glistening with sweat, hair sticking to his forehead as his heels dig into Pond’s lower back, pulling Pond closer, allowing Pond to fuck him deeper.
Pond is certain he likes the sex. The fucking. Pond is certain there’s nothing else to that.
“I wanna ride you,” Phuwin whispers, all breathless and it vibrates through every muscle of Pond’s body.
Pond pulls back, taking in Phuwin’s swollen lips, hair sticking out on his bedsheet. The light of his desk lamp reflects on Phuwin’s eyes and Pond finds it hard to drift his gaze away. He leans in to kiss Phuwin, once, then twice. “Yeah. Yeah, whatever you want.”
Because it has always been whatever Phuwin wants. It has always been about Phuwin. Pond can’t draw back to the time where something isn’t about Phuwin. These days, everything just seems to go back to Phuwin. Like clockwork.
So Pond lets Phuwin ride him, taking in the way Phuwin bounces on his cock, gripping onto the feeling as Phuwin slows his pace and grinds into pleasure when he feels the tip of Pond’s cock hitting the tissues of his wall and Phuwin’s entire body tightens and Pond feels it. He fucking feels everything. The way Phuwin curls into him, hands around his neck as he breathes into Pond’s mouth, asking, pleading, “fuck me.”
And Pond does. He flips them over and he fucks Phuwin like it’s a missionary. He fucks Phuwin until Phuwin becomes a mess under him, until Phuwin comes all over, until Pond hides his face in Phuwin’s neck, picking up the pace as he thrusts faster into the heat, chasing and chasing and Phuwin does give, seeking something similar as Pond and Phuwin is a mess but Pond doesn’t think he’s any better. So Pond fucks Phuwin, fuck Phuwin until he’s plaint underneath him, until he lets Pond does whatever, until Pond spills into the condom, Phuwin’s name pulsating on his lips.
Sex with Phuwin is good. Pond is certain of that. Among other things.
𓈒∘☁︎
Phuwin calls him when he’s drunk. He never knows what to make out of that. But almost always, Phuwin calls him when he’s drunk.
Phuwin calls him when he’s out somewhere with his friends, way past the tipsy stage, and he calls Pond like Pond is the only constant variable on his mind.
“Baby,” Phuwin beams the moment he shows up at the table. Phuwin’s friends raise their hands to greet him like this is a normal occurrence that has happened far too many times.
His stomach does a funny thing at the nickname, but he quickly shakes himself out of it. He shows up for the sex. They’ll go back to Phuwin’s place and they’re going to fuck. And then Pond will be on his way. That’s all.
Except, they arrive at Phuwin’s place and they’re not fucking. Phuwin presses kisses all over him but he is suddenly more concerned about getting a glass of water for Phuwin than sucking his dick. And that’s a problem. Because Pond came mainly for the dick.
But Phuwin is a little more wasted tonight than usual and he looks like he could fall asleep on him at any moment. He lets Phuwin licks into his mouth, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth, sucking it into the wetness of his mouth before he mindlessly bites on it. And Pond immediately pulls back, wincing at the sudden sharp pain, “Phuwin, wait…ow.”
Phuwin only giggles at that, body leans back, stumbling on his own feet and Pond grips his body closer so the latter doesn’t trip over completely. Phuwin glazes his fingers along the side of his face before he moves to pinch his cheek, “you are so cute.”
Pond wants to grimace at the compliment because he is trying to stick his dick into Phuwin’s ass and Phuwin giggling in his arms and squeezing his cheek and calling him cute isn’t the foreplay he was hoping for.
They meet up exclusively for sex. Pond should make sure they stay on that agenda.
“Wanna fuck you,” he tries to switch up the mood, pulling Phuwin’s earlope into his mouth and suck on it slightly as he brings his hands onto Phuwin’s ass, squeezing onto the firmness of it.
Phuwin giggles. Phuwin fucking giggles into his neck, “you’re tickling me.”
Great. Just what a guy wants to hear when he tries to get his dick touched.
“Of course you can fuck me, cutie,” Phuwin says the words into his neck, pressing a quick kiss on the skin there before he pulls off and stepping out of Pond’s arms completely. His hands reach out to Phuwin on an instinct to make sure he doesn’t fall over, but Phuwin is already moving on his feet.
He follows Phuwin into the bedroom, only to find Phuwin spreads out on the bed like a starfish, low giggles rolling off his lips, “okay baby, fuck me. I’m ready.”
And Pond thinks Phuwin is so fucking adorable that he might actually die. Can you die from finding someone too fucking cute? Because Pond might just do that.
Cute or not, he isn’t going to say no to the open invitation. He is on a mission, after all. So without a second thought, he straddles onto Phuwin, knees pressed into the mattress on each side of Phuwin’s hips before he leans down to press his mouth onto Phuwin again. And Phuwin reciprocates every kiss that Pond presses into his mouth, yet something feels off.
Pond pulls back, face morphs with concern as his brows furrow slightly, “maybe we just need to get you into bed, yeah?”
Phuwin insists, “I’m fine, I swear my dick is still functioning just fine.”
Pond holds back a smile, “I’m sure it does. But I also think you might fall asleep on me at any moment.”
Phuwin hums, wrapping his arms around Pond’s shoulders, “kiss me?”
And Pond does do that, he kisses Phuwin until Phuwin actually does fall asleep on him. He pulls back and listens to the low snorts from Phuwin, and Pond no longer attempts to hold back the smile that spreads across his lips as he hides his laughter into Phuwin’s neck.
He ends up stripping Phuwin off of his outside clothes before he tucks him under the blanket; he makes a quick run over to the kitchen to grab a bottle of water, in case Phuwin feels dehydrated in the middle of the night.
When he finally lays back down beside Phuwin, he lets his fingers run through Phuwin’s hair, watches the way Phuwin instinctively seeks for warmth, pressing himself closer into Pond.
And Pond normally doesn’t like people who make a lot of noise in their sleep and Phuwin does almost everything. He snorts, he talks in his sleep, he physically fights too, often smashing Pond so hard across the chest that Pond would spring up in the middle of the night. But somehow, Pond isn’t bothered by it. For whatever fucking reason, he has yet to make sense of, Pond thinks Phuwin is cute. Pond finds a grown man snoring and being violence in his sleep to be cute.
And he is certainly going to die because of Phuwin’s cuteness. Among the few things he’s certain of, that has to be one of them.
𓈒∘☁︎
He stays the next morning. Not only is he staying, but he’s fucking mixing the pancake batter and tiptoeing a little too far off the territory of what is considered a casual sex situationship. Friends with benefits and what not. Making your sex buddy your family nutella pancake recipe feels a bit too domestic for his liking but Pond always overthinks and gets too much into his own head so he tries to reason that he’s just trying to feed a hangover human. Something he would do even for stray dogs on the street. Though, Phuwin is more like a cat. A really cute cat.
He feels a pair of arms wrapped around his torso and Pond’s body instinctively caves into the warmth. Phuwin kisses the back of his neck and Pond is so totally fine. This is fine. Just a typical Sunday morning.
Phuwin hooks his chin over Pond’s shoulder as he watches Pond flips over the pancake, batter splashes over the pan because Pond is a shit at cooking before anything else, and he definitely flips the pancake too soon because his brain short circuits any time Phuwin is nearby.
Phuwin pulls away after a long moment and he thinks he can breathe again. But Phuwin only moves to press his hips against the kitchen counter as he watches Pond try to fix his half burnt semi circular pancake. Pond is pretty sure he looks ridiculous and he sure doesn’t belong anywhere near the stove but Phuwin fucking beams when Pond turns to him and shit, yeah, he feels it in his chest again. The kicks. The hiccups. The way his heart starts climbing back up league by league, foot by foot.
Pond clears his throat and fixes his gaze on the batter in the pan.
“You’re cute, Pond. You know that?” Phuwin scoots closer to Pond, eyes all over him.
No, Pond does not want to know that. Pond doesn’t want to be cute in Phuwin’s eye. Pond wants to be hot, this ridiculously hot dude that Phuwin is fucking. Hot is the kind of word one uses to describe the dude they’re sleeping with. Cute? Cute is the nerdy loser that you share a bathroom with in your college dormitory. And Pond doesn’t want to be the nerdy loser that Phuwin shares a bathroom with. Pond wants to be hot. Scorching. Scalding. The kind of hot that stops Phuwin in his tracks, the kind of hot that makes Phuwin’s brain go hazy and dumb. Like the way Pond feels every time he looks at Phuwin a little too long.
“I’m not cute,” Pond mumbles, if he’s pouting, he’s glad Phuwin doesn’t bring that up. Because that’s not helping his agenda to be ‘the hot dude’.
“Oh, but you are,” Phuwin is almost cooing and Pond thinks if he just pushes Phuwin onto the kitchen counter and takes him as he is, maybe Phuwin wouldn’t think he’s so cute then. “Your nose is cute. Your lips are cute. The little mole under your eyes is cute. Your face is made of everything that is cute.”
“And you’re making my favorite nutella pancake for me,” Phuwin adds, “peak cuteness.”
At this point, Pond is pretty sure Phuwin is mainly saying it to tease him.
“I’m not cute, I’m hot,” Pond states, lips pressed into a firm line as he gives Phuwin a quick look, only to see Phuwin holding back his laugh.
“Of course, you are, baby,” Phuwin grins at him and the wheel in Pond’s brain is going backward again. “The hottest.”
Pond’s beating heart trying to choke itself inside his chest, reaching up for his throat in search of air, a bigger space to breathe.
Pond puts the last pancake on the plate before he turns off the stove and shifts his body to Phuwin, “hot enough for a quick morning fuck?”
Phuwin’s face perks up at that, “oh?”
Pond leans in to kiss Phuwin, letting Phuwin run his fingers through his hair, carding his fingers through the strains. He presses onto Phuwin until they’re body to body, hips to hips, until he feels the hardness against his stomach. He rubs circles on Phuwin’s hips before dragging his fingers along the skin under Phuwin’s shirt. Pond lets his fingers linger there for a moment before he lets him graze over Phuwin’s back, pressing smiles against the boy’s lips as Phuwin’s body voluntarily keens into him.
They don’t make it to Phuwin’s bedroom and Pond ends up fucking Phuwin on the sofa instead, and it’s not the most comfortable spot but everything feels more languid than usual, like they are just taking their time at feeling each other. Like they’re not fucking for the sake of seeking an orgasm, like Phuwin wants Pond to fuck him so that he feels the way his heart beats against his. Like Phuwin wants Pond to fuck him so he can feel the pleasure vibrates and pulsates through his body until it seeps its way into the veins in Pond’s body. Phuwin wants Pond to fuck him until he becomes a part of Pond, somewhere deep in Pond’s core being.
Pond is certain of only a few things.
This isn’t one of them.
𓈒∘☁︎
Pond isn’t good at romance.
Pond is, as a matter of facts, terrible at romance.
He thinks it has to do something with the fact that he’s naturally an introvert and he’s more awkward than most people, so his mouth always seems to run faster than his brain.
They’re sitting in a group setting in the library because Perth had suggested a group study but Pond doesn’t think it’s working out too well since everyone seems to be doing anything but study.
For one, Phuwin and Fourth are engaged in a conversation where Fourth keeps asking Phuwin if his hands look weird.
“Fourth, they’re normal.”
“Yeah, but don’t they look a little weird to you?”
“They look like any other normal hands, Fourth.”
“So they’re not weird to you? Like I think they stopped growing the past 2 years.”
Santa whines in annoyance, “jesus fucking christ, it’s because they are not supposed to! You just turned 20, you idiot, give up. Your body has already stopped growing.”
Pond feels his brain shrinking from listening to the conversation.
So yeah, they’re not getting much school work done. Because for one, there’s that whole conversation with the overly concerned Fourth and his miniature fingers.
For two, Pond can’t stop looking at Phuwin. No one is being productive.
“You’re staring, dude,” he hears Joong whisper beside him. “In case, you didn’t know that already.”
“I’m not staring,” Pond immediately denies any allegation of him ever staring at Phuwin, at all. Pond has never once stared at Phuwin, or a single thing in his whole life. As a matter of fact. “I’m staring at the poster behind him.”
“You’re staring at a poster of Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles?” Joong looks at Pond with eyes full of judgment. But he is hardly offended because Joong is normally full of shit anyway.
“Yes. Why is there a poster of Ninja Turtles in the library again?”
“I don’t know,” Joong shrugs, “political science students’ tactic at encouraging the youth to fight the evils in the modern world?”
Pond almost snickers at the irony of that, considering the current state of the modern day political circles.
“Anyways, don’t stare too hard, you might burn a hole in his head.”
“I’m not-” before Pond can finish his sentence, Joong also wheels his chair back to his spot at the table.
Pond tries to focus his attention on his laptop, he swears he doesn’t mean to stare. It’s just, Phuwin looks really fucking pretty today. Pond doesn’t even know what it is, exactly. He looks like how he does any other days, but he’s wearing a light yellow cotton shirt today and Phuwin looks really fucking good in yellow. Pond can’t think of a color that Phuwin doesn’t look good in, but Phuwin definitely wears yellow better than every person he knows.
And Pond likes things that are pretty, the stars, the universe, the galaxy and Phuwin reminds him a lot of moondust and starlight. So it’s partly Phuwin’s fault for being so pretty that Pond has no choice but to look. Phuwin’s fault.
Although, Pond should have listened to Mick’s warning about staring too hard because Phuwin turns to him the next moment, and Pond’s brain short circuits again. His brain gotta stop doing that, maybe there’s an underlying problem that he needs to get checked out. Is it normal for one’s brain to short circuit this frequently because of some guy? A very pretty one at that.
It seems like he’s going through a lot of medical complications lately because of Phuwin.
“You’re staring, Naravit.”
Calling him out with his government name and everything.
And Pond tries to play it off. He thinks he can do that pretty well. Pond likes to think he’s a pretty lowkey kind of guy. Pretty nonchalant for the most part. He normally doesn’t have much reaction to things, he keeps it cool. He stays at a constant level of cool. Sub-zero, freezing point.
Pond shrugs, “your eyes are nice.”
Yeah, good one, stud. You were staring at his head, but go ahead, compliment his eyes because you have probably thought about those eyes more often than you would like to admit.
Phuwin squints his eyes at him, “are you trying to be romantic?”
Pond laughs it off. Him? Trying to be romantic?
Pond doesn’t do romance.
Pond doesn’t do romance because he’s shit at it.
“I mean, they got a nice color to them,” Pond tries to nonchalantly point out. Because after all, he’s a very nonchalant guy. “Like a nice shade of brown. Like the color of dirt.”
Phuwin narrows his eyes slightly, lips curl downward at the statement, “why are you like this?”
Pond scoffs silently to himself, trying to ignore how close Phuwin’s face is to him. Pond kind of wishes so badly he could lean for a quick kiss, it’s a constant urge that he’s been having these days. Sure, his brain is mainly occupied by anime and getting Phuwin naked, but lately, he just wants to lazily make out with Phuwin under the sun on a summer day or some really weird, romantic shit like that. And Pond is so terribly bad at romance, in case he hasn’t made that obvious enough.
Phuwin averts his eyes to his assignment once again and since Pond has already been called out twice for staring, he doesn’t put in an effort in being a little less obvious about the whole staring thing this time. It is what it is.
Aside from Pond constantly staring at Phuwin because he’s insanely pretty to look at, Pond also notices the bags that are sinking under Phuwin’s eyes. Pond knows that Phuwin probably hasn’t had the time to eat anything, now that finals are near and art students tend to have projects stacked on top of projects. Phuwin made a passing comment once or twice that he sometimes skipped meals if he got too overwhelmed with schoolwork. And ever since, Pond has made it his personal mission to make sure Phuwin is well fed. It’s chill. Pond is just somewhat concerned about Phuwin’s wellbeing. Platonically worried. Like a bro kind of worry. From one bro to another.
Pond rolls his chair over to Phuwin this time, “you ate yet?”
Phuwin turns to him, before he nods his head toward the plastic wrap of a canola bar.
Pond frowns, “that’s no real food.”
Phuwin doesn’t say anything to that, instead, he turns back to typing into his word doc. Pond sighs, “let’s go eat.”
“Now?” Phuwin widens his eyes, “I have to finish this report by 12am tonight.”
“And you have,” Pond taps the screen of his phone, “6 hours to do that. And I’m pretty sure you can spare 30 minutes to get a proper meal.”
Pond doesn’t leave any space for argument, he closes his laptops and motions Phuwin to do the same, which surprisingly, Phuwin easily complies. They let their friends know that they’ll be back in a few and only when they are walking away does Pond sees the kissy face Joong was throwing at him. Pond feels pretty good about the middle finger that he throws back at Joong.
𓈒∘☁︎
Phuwin and Pond are friends at most. Or maybe they aren’t. Pond is never sure about the actual status of their relationship. They technically didn’t start out as friends. They sort of just fucked the night they first met and it’s just been the consistent hooking up ever since. And it’s nice, for a while, Pond liked the way things were going. Low commitment, no string attached. Bare minimum level of emotional connection. And it worked out great. It worked out great until Pond learned that he is, as a matter of fact, a very emotionally committed type of guy. It worked out great until Pond learned that he kind of wants to do a lot more than just fucking Phuwin. He kind of really wants to hold Phuwin’s hand under the table and kisses him goodnight and goodmorning. He wants to take Phuwin on little cute dates by the sea, because Phuwin has once told Pond that water keeps his mind calm. So yes, it’s not like Pond hasn’t thought about the romantic aspect of their relationship. It’s just that, it’s all up in his head. He thinks he’s making it all up.
Because for all he is certain of, among the list of very few things, he knows Phuwin wants things to be as they are. Sex. Just that.
Phuwin calls him over to fuck and Pond never denies a booty call so he comes rushing on his bike, only to find that Phuwin must finish his art report first because they can be nasty together. And Pond just kind of wants to get nasty with Phuwin right at this instance, but he supposes he shouldn’t put Phuwin’s degree at risk just to get his dick touched. He’s not that selfish.
So instead, he does sit ups. And Phuwin is staring from where he is sitting on the couch. Pond knows Phuwin is staring.
And while Pond desperately always wants Phuwin to stare at him because he finds Pond awfully attractive, Pond thinks Phuwin is currently staring at him because he’s judging him.
Having had enough with the judgment eyes, he sits up completely and turns to Phuwin, “what is it?”
“Why are you doing sit ups in a turtleneck sweater in the middle of April?”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s weird.”
“You’re weird.”
“Don’t be rude.”
“You’re being rude first. You judged me.” Pond swears on his piggybank he isn’t pouting. “Focus on finishing your assignment, Phuwin. I’m here to get you naked and I stand on business.”
“How am I supposed to focus when you’re grunting and dripping in sweat like a fucking caveman? In a fucking turtleneck on top of that.”
“Everyone was insulting my turtleneck today and I spent like 40 dollars on this thing. So I’m just, you know, preserving my dignity and justifying my way off budget purchase.”
Phuwin raises his eyebrows at him, “and to do that, you’re gonna do sit ups in them?”
“Don’t lie, I know you think I look hot in it.”
Phuwin giggles , “not with gym shorts, baby.”
Pond glares at him, “when I wear it with jeans tomorrow, you’ll see. They will all see.”
Phuwin actually lets out a laugh at that, “how did I let a dude like you get me naked?”
Pond should be insulted but he isn’t. Not with the way Phuwin’s face is all scrunched up, nose wrinkles slightly with a smile that feels so fucking delightful, like a taste of sunlight. Lingering at the tip of his tongue and Pond just wishes he can savor it a little longer.
When Pond has Phuwin on his laps later, his tongue down Phuwin’s throat, he says to Phuwin, “admit it, the turtleneck turns you on.”
“You always turn me on, Pond,” Phuwin easily tells him as he leans in to kiss Pond again.
Pond lets Phuwin deepen the kiss before he pulls back again, “yeah. But the turtleneck is working, right?”
Phuwin laughs and he’s practically glowing in golden hours of a late afternoon, Pond thinks Phuwin kind of resembles a cat in warm summer day basking in the sunlight. His heart swells at the sight and his chest tightens and he’s so entirely and undeniably enamored by Phuwin.
“You’re going to keep being adamant about the turtleneck, aren’t you?” Phuwin looks down at him, with his hands cupping the sides of Pond’s cheek. “Okay, yeah it did something for me. It’s doing a lot, actually.”
“After how many sit ups?” Pond asks, too fucking smug about the whole thing.
“Five?” Phuwin pretends to think, eyebrows knitted together. And Pond should tell Phuwin that he’s not allowed to act cute when Pond is trying to get him to sit on his dick.
“Nice,” Pond grins, lips stretching from ear to ear.
Phuwin rolls his eyes, “okay, can you get your hands in my pants now?”
Phuwin swipes his tongue against Pond’s lips, and Pond can taste the sweetness of strawberry milk that he was sipping on earlier, but also Phuwin’s lips taste inexplicably like Phuwin. Like the sweetness drips off from within him, and not from the strawberry milk.
Phuwin presses closer to Pond, hips grinding into his as he curls his fingers in Pond’s hair and Pond responds by gripping onto Phuwin’s waists and digging his fingers deeper into Phuwin’s skin. Pond bites into the heat of his mouth and strokes hot touches all over his body and he lingers in the way Phuwin always responds to every insistent lap of his tongue on his, returning back the same kind of fervor.
Pond pulls back again, “I can wear this badass turtleneck for you any time of the day, Phuwin. Everyday, if you want.”
“Oh my god, Pond,” Phuwin almost cries out, “let it go, already.”
Pond laughs when Phuwin presses his hot tongue back against his own and Phuwin presses the laughter back, letting the sound rumble against their connected chests.
Pond feels the way Phuwin’s breath starts to become erratic as his mouth pries Pond to open a little more, as he picks up the pace of his grind, letting a low gratifying groan that immediately sends immediate shiver down Pond’s spines.
Pond buckles up his hips to meet Phuwin’s grind, and he drinks in the obscene sounds that Phuwin is making as he rolls his hips on Pond, meeting every beat of Pond’s movement. Phuwin keeps pushing until Pond is lying flat on the carpet as Pond’s hand reaches out to squeeze Phuwin’s ass and guides it downward onto his crotch until they’re flushed against each other again.
Pond eventually flips their position before he’s looming over Phuwin, taking in the sight of Phuwin underneath him before diving him again. Lips on lips. Hips on hips. And it’s in a matter of seconds before Pond has his fingers curled into the heat past Phuwin’s tight rim and Phuwin taps him once, then twice, letting him know that he’s more than ready. So Pond presses into Phuwin, slowly until he’s fully seated. Until Phuwin cries for him to move, and then he moves. Setting up a pace for the both of them, and Phuwin meets every thrust, body arching into Pond. Pond lets his lips trail along Phuwin’s jawline before they latch onto his neck, muffling out the moan that rolls off his tongue.
And they fuck. And they kiss. And every kiss feels different. And Phuwin is such a good kisser and kissing has never been this good with someone else like it has been with Phuwin. Phuwin kisses are never sloppy, he always kisses fiercely, he sucks and licks into Pond’s mouth with intentions and it drives Pond insane every time. And he kisses Pond until he’s coming all over them. He kisses Pond as he tightens around Pond, body arches into Pond like it’s on tight string, ready to snap apart at any moment. Waiting for Pond to snap so he could too. If Pond drowns, Phuwin will too.
And Pond isn’t good at romance. But he’s not entirely sure what romance is made up of either. He thinks it’s in the way Phuwin kisses him languidly after they fuck. He thinks it’s in the way Phuwin would snuggle up to him, snorting quietly into his neck, body loose and warm all over him.
Pond isn’t good at romance. But perhaps, he could be good at Phuwin. Or maybe, he isn’t. Maybe Phuwin is just really good at making Pond believe that something is there when it isn’t.
𓈒∘☁︎
“You’re whipped, by the way,” Joong says as they stand between the aisles of pancake mixes and cereals. “In case you didn’t know that already.”
Are there any other vocabularies that exist in that tiny brain that is tucked away in Joong’s head?
“I’m not whipped,” Pond defends himself. Because he is not.
“Okay and what exactly are you doing right now?”
“Buying pancake mix…?”
“For?”
Pond rolls his eyes with a gruntled sigh. He knows where the fucker is going with this one. Okay, so what. He’s currently buying Phuwin’s favorite pancake mix. So what? That doesn’t mean he’s in love with him or anything. He would gladly buy Joong his favorite pancake mix if Joong asks him, although Pond would definitely ask Joong to transfer the payment.
Joong lets out a tired sigh as he leans in closer, throwing one hand over Pond’s shoulder, “look man, all I’m saying is, if YOU insists that there’s nothing, you gotta set boundaries, my dude. You can sleep with him but you can’t go around and buy him pancake mix. You can pick him up if he’s drunk but ONLY if there’s no other option around it, like he’d end up on the street or something if you don’t. You can stay over but only if it’s super late, like dangerously late, however you can’t make him breakfast in the morning. You can buy him food but only if he’s starving and on the brink of dying. You gotta stop acting like his boyfriends.”
Pond makes an attempt to say something but Joong quickly shushes him, “just the other day, you went mattress shopping with him because quote on quote, ‘he cares about which mattress I feel comfortable on.’ That’s dating, dude, that’s like 50 stages past dating. Like tiptoeing into being married, you’re playing on a very dangerous field here, my guy. You gotta set your foot on this matter, you can’t be running around him like a puppy ready to service him 24/7 if neither of you is putting a label on it.”
In Pond’s defense on the whole food thing, it’s just that Phuwin is terrible with his eating schedule and sometimes when he’s too caught up with his projects, he would skip his meals. And Pond tells himself that he’s just concerned that Phuwin would pass out from malnutrition with Pond’s dick deep in him or something. It would be a crime case for sure and Pond watches too many true crimes videos on youtube to know he’ll be the guaranteed main suspect. So yes, he often buys Phuwin food, if not, he’d take Phuwin out to eat before they fuck. But Pond thinks it hardly means anything, Pond is just doing it out of the goodness of one civilian to another. So he won’t end up in jail or some shit. That’s all. Joong doesn’t know what the fuck he’s talking about anyway.
“You’re basically his caretaker, you know that? And a cuddle buddy on the side. You’re the boyfriend without the boyfriend title.”
Pond glares at him. He is not a caretaker. He’s certainly not Phuwin’s boyfriend. And it’s chill. And he’s chill with that. It’s fine. It’s whatever, at most.
“Now tell me, do you want to cuddle him or suck his dick?”
Ideally, Pond wants both but that’s neither here nor there and Joong certainly does not need to know that.
Joong pats him on the shoulder twice, “set your boundaries, dude.” And before he walks off, he points his index finger at the pancake mixes on the shelf, “if he likes strawberry flavor, buy the banana one. Cause remember, you’re not his boyfriend.”
He doesn’t know why Joong was having this conversation with him in the middle of their weekly grocery run and everything Joong said was pure bullshit but perhaps, Joong is right about one thing. Boundaries. Pond does think he should start setting boundaries.
So that night, when Phuwin calls him over, Pond determines that he’s only going for quick fuck. A literal hit it and quit it. No pillow talk. No cuddling. No staying over. No goddamn nutella pancake with strawberry and banana in the morning, just the way Phuwin likes it.
So he shows up at Phuwin’s door and he doesn’t wait before he pushes Phuwin against the closed door, tongue feverishly sucking into Phuwin’s mouth. He grinds his hips on to Phuwin and Phuwin lets him have for a moment, responding back to Pond like he always does. Then Phuwin pulls back, entirely too breathless and pretty, lips all read and swollen, so fucking gorgeous when he looks up at Pond like this. And Pond swears his heart is about to fucking jump out of his chest, and he quickly wonders if a person could get a cardiac arrest from being extremely aroused but like… in emotional way…? Like in the, ‘I want to suck this guy’s dick but also I want him to tuck my hair behind my ear and tell me he loves me’ kind of way. Is that a thing? Because Pond feels like he’s very much emotionally aroused right now.
He should make a note to check with his pre-med best friend, Santa, about that later.
Phuwin pushes himself off of Pond completely, “let’s go get dinner.”
Dinner. DINNER? Dinner was not on the fucking agenda.
Pond reminds himself, boundaries.
“Phuwin.”
He avoids Phuwin’s eyes as he calls for his name, because Pond is just a dude. A dude who will always be weak at the mercy of Phuwin’s hands. “You can’t be doing this.”
“Doing what? Eating?”
“No. That’s not what I-” Pond tries not to whine because Pond is chill. So totally chill and casual about all of this. And someone who is chill and casual does not whine. “This,” he points between Phuwin and himself. “If you call me over to fuck, then we fuck. We can’t be getting dinner. You can’t stop by my class with a cup of coffee. You can’t call me to fetch you every time you’re drunk. You most definitely shouldn’t care whether your next purchase of mattress is up to my liking.”
“You were the one who kept complaining about my mattress making too much noise,” Phuwin points out. “And weren’t you the one who insisted on going with me?”
Pond ignores that. Phuwin can’t be right all the time.
“You can’t keep calling me cute. Cute is for the nerdy loser you share a bathroom with in a college dormitory. And I don’t want to be the nerdy loser you share a bathroom with. I want to be hot to you. Because hot is reserved for the guy you want to bend you over a diner table or something.”
“What?” Pond can see the way Phuwin tries to hold back his smile. “Baby, you are cute. And I would definitely let a cute guy bend me over a diner table.”
Phuwin is really drifting away from the very important matter on hands.
“You can’t play with my hair or run your fingers through it if we’re not fucking. Hair playing is strictly reserved for fucking. And no more nutella pancakes! I know I’m shit at cooking and I know I don’t make it that good. I have tested it out with my friends before and they all said it tastes like undercooked garbage.”
Phuwin almost looks offended on Pond’s behalf, “who said that? You make a mean nutella pancake.”
Pond almost smiles at that. Almost.
Phuwin pouts when he says, “and I thought you love when I play with your hair.”
Pond does. Fuck, Pond fucking loves when Phuwin plays with his hair. Fucking or not fucking.
Pond takes a long breath in and out. Joong said to set his foot on the matter, and he’s setting his foot on the matter, goddamnit. “Look, all I’m saying is I can’t be going around and acting like your boyfriend when clearly I’m not. If we’re just exclusively fucking, we gotta just stick to that. Strictly.”
“You’re not?”
“Yes you can’t be asking me to run little errands for you— WAIT WHAT ?????”
“You’re not my boyfriend?”
Pond feels like his head is spinning. He should probably hold onto something before he trips over his own feet and like gives himself permanent brain damage or some shit.
“I’m not your boyfriend? Am I your boyfriend?”
“Who said you’re not my boyfriend?”
“Joong?”
Phuwin looks at Pond’s answer, mouth drops slightly as if everything Pond had said, that was most the most shocking thus far.
“You went to Joong for this?”
A lot of points being made here, Pond sees exactly where Phuwin is coming from. But in Pond’s defense, everyone has their low once in a while. And Pond’s latest low is going to Joong for relationship advice. Though, he can defend that too. Joong technically was giving advice on his own records, Pond didn’t actually seek it.
Phuwin sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose, “Pond, what do you think we have been doing for the past months?”
“Fucking?”
Phuwin frowns, giving him a look of ‘yeah no shit, Sherlock. Really fucking crack the code on that one.’
“So what? You go around doing everything you did for me to people you’re casually fucking?”
Pond knows it’s not the time but Phuwin looks like a cat who is hissing because he’s upset. Phuwin is cute. And in case Pond has not made it clear, he has always been a cat person.
And to answer Phuwin’s question, no. Technically Pond hasn't slept with anyone else ever since Phuwin. At first Pond just told himself that he’s just terribly bad at multitasking. Fucking multiple people just sound like a recipe for disaster for someone who probably has an undiagnosed moderate case of ADHD. And then he slowly came to terms with the fact that he simply does not want to sleep with anyone else other than Phuwin.
“So you thought we were dating the whole time?” Pond asks. He just really really needs Phuwin to be really really straight about this. If Phuwin could spell it out to him like he’s learning to listen and comprehend human language for the first time, he would very much appreciate that. Because among many other things, Pond is an overthinker and if Phuwin is being even slightly vague about all of this, Pond will find a way to somehow turn this whole thing against himself in the worst case scenario.
“Well maybe not exactly dating since we never actually talk about it. But I could tell we were going steady and I know you’re not going around sleeping with other people,” Phuwin tells him, “and I could tell being emotionally constipated is your thing so I was just letting you come to terms with your feelings about all of this on your own time. I was ready to talk about it whenever you are. Although, now I’m starting to think I should have been more upfront with you.”
“I’m not emotionally constipated,” Pond grumbles under his breath.
He could almost hear Phuwin rolling his eyes, “one time I looked at you in the eyes too long while we were fucking and you told me I was breathing too loud. That was me moaning, you asshole. It’s a thing that people do during sex. I was moaning because your dick was that good.”
Oddly enough Pond remembers that very instance. It’s just. Phuwin is not allowed to look that pretty under him, all sweaty and glowing and eyes glinting like they hold the galaxy in them or something. What the fuck was Pond supposed to say in that situation.
“So we’re dating … like dating DATING? Like you actually like me LIKE THAT ?”
Phuwin amps up the dramatic eye rolls to the max for that one, “let’s go eat and maybe I can give you a quick run down on relationship 101 afterward.”
And Pond is only ever certain about a few things in life.
Love is not one of them.
Romance is certainly not in the mix.
Pond will trip and fumbles through this whole thing, it’s inevitable.
But Pond is certain of this. He likes Phuwin the best when he smiles. Because the universe is seemingly huge, cold and hollow. And in the depth of the darkness, Phuwin smiles and he somehow puts the stars back into the night sky. Phuwin smiles and he’s the single light in a blackout, Phuwin smiles and he becomes Pond’s favorite song that plays in a crowded room. Phuwin smiles and the sun rises again. Phuwin smiles and it’s honey dripping, midsummer night in June all over again. Pond likes Phuwin the best when he smiles and Pond is going to do everything he can so the stars won’t ever disappear.
Phuwin is not certain about a lot of this. But Phuwin, Phuwin, he will be certain about.
𓈒∘☁︎
Pond meets Phuwin on a midsummer day in June when he was invited to a friend’s birthday gathering.
In a room full of people, Phuwin looks at him, eyes gleaming with something that Pond couldn’t make of.
And Pond looks back.
The corner of Phuwin’s lips slightly curls upward and Pond buries Phuwin’s smile until it carves a space in the depth of his mind. Phuwin smiles and Pond thinks he gets it now, why people say a smile can power the sun. Pond gets why a smile can light up the entire galaxy, Phuwin smiles and Pond sees the way the stars glitter in the distance.
Phuwin was the sunrise after the winter solstice, the fireworks above them, gleaming, bursting, and crackling in chaos.
Phuwin was the sunkissed sky and the wind that brushes along the summer car rides.
Phuwin was the light shining through the winter storm in the midst of the dark night.
And the softness within Phuwin came straight from the starlights and it filled every part of Pond’s to the bones.
Phuwin smiled at Pond and everything within him moved.
Oh. Love.
It must be that.
Pond remembered every exchange he had with Phuwin that night, down to the yellow button down that Phuwin was wearing. Yellow has always looked on Phuwin, among the many other things that Pond likes about him.
And Pond never cared much about the color yellow before. But suddenly, he sees it. There’s yellow everywhere. The yellow leaf on the maple tree, breezing through the days in the midst of late October. The yellow cup in the kitchen cabinet. The yellow bike parked near their apartment complex. The yellow cabs. The yellow raincoat. Yellow in the way Phuwin kisses him, yellow in the way Phuwin touches him, yellow in the way Phuwin looks at him. Pond sees yellow in everything. Because yellow is Phuwin. And Pond sees Phuwin in everything.