Work Text:
5 years ago
The GMMTV building was a labyrinth of glass and ambition. For Joong Archen, walking through those doors felt like stepping into a dream he hadn't quite earned yet. He was still shaking off the jet lag of moving back to Thailand from his failed attempt in China, his mind a whirlwind of "what-ifs."
"Joong Archen?"
The voice was authoritative yet warm. Joong turned to see a sharp-eyed man approaching.
"Hi. Welcome to GMMTV! I am Sataporn, an executive of the company," the man said, offering a hand that Joong shook with reflexive politeness. "You are here for the contract signing, right?"
Joong nodded, his throat a bit dry. "Yes, sir. I’m... a bit early."
"Let’s do that later," Sataporn waved a hand toward a set of heavy double doors at the end of the hall. "First, there’s an audition currently ongoing for a new project. Why don’t you try for a role? The directors are looking for a specific spark."
Joong blinked, startled. "But, I didn't even prepare anything. I don't have a script."
"Nah, just walk into that room. Let them see your face. That’s enough for now."
Joong followed the advice, his heart hammering a rhythm against his ribs. When he pushed open the door, the room was thick with the scent of coffee and nervous energy. Rows of chairs were filled with young men who looked like they’d stepped out of a magazine.
"Oh, you’re here for the audition?" a staff member asked, checking a clipboard.
"Yes," Joong replied, trying to steady his breathing.
"Perfect timing. You can just sit beside anyone. We’re about to start the chemistry reads." The staff member clapped his hands, calling for order.
Joong scanned the room for an empty seat. That’s when he saw him.
Sitting near the back was a guy in a plain black shirt. His hair was parted perfectly down the middle, and a black mask hung loosely beneath his chin. He wasn't scrolling through his phone like the others; he was staring straight ahead, his posture rigid. He’s aura being different compared to others. As Joong approached, the guy’s eyes flickered upward. For a split second, Joong saw a flash of something, recognition? Terror? It vanished before he could even describe it.
"Excuse me?" The guy in the black shirt raised a hand. His voice was steady, but his fingers were curled tight around his phone.
"Yes, Khun Dunk?" the staff member asked.
"Can I go to the bathroom first?" Dunk asked.
"Yes, of course. Go ahead. Be quick."
As Dunk stood up, Joong realized the guy was tall, nearly as tall as himself. As Dunk walked past, Joong felt an inexplicable urge to follow. It was as if a thread had been tied to his chest and was being pulled.
"Actually," Joong spoke up, "can I go too? I... I’m new. I don't want to get lost."
The walk to the restroom was silent. Joong watched the back of Dunk's head, noting the way his ears were slightly pink. Inside, the hum of the fluorescent lights felt loud. Joong stood at the sink next to him, turning on the cold water to splash his face.
"I'm Joong," he said, glancing at Dunk through the mirror.
Dunk was staring at his own hands under the water. He didn't look up immediately. "I know," he whispered, then quickly cleared his throat. "I mean... I’m Dunk. Nice to meet you."
"You're very handsome, Khun Dunk," Joong teased, flashing his signature grin to break the ice. "If we’re competing for the same role, I’m in trouble."
Dunk finally looked at him. His eyes were wide, dark, and filled with a depth that felt far older than a first meeting.
‘You're not in trouble, Joong’ Dunk said softly in the back of his mind. "I think you’ll do great!” He smiled back.
By the time they crossed the hallway back into the audition room, the heavy air of competition had dissolved, replaced by the easy cadence of shared laughter and an unexpected familiarity. Sataporn and the other executives watched them enter, their eyes tracking the pair who now appeared less like unknown people and more like old souls reunited. Sensing an undeniable spark, they were asked to read a scene together right then and there. It was the moment the universe clicked into place, a new Star Couple was born, but it was not yet known to the both of them.
“Hey, Phi!” Joong caught up with Dunk. “Can I get your Line ID? Just for communication, in case you know.” Joong asked shyly.
Dunk smiled. “Of course.” He grabbed the others’ phone and typed his number.
Joong smiled widely. “I’ll call you later phi!” He said as he waved goodbye to the other. That simple wave unbeknownst Joong, sent ripples to Dunk’s heart.
ChenRcj posted…
😊
Dunk smiled wider, knowing it was finally meant for him.
That same night, they called and talked about the most random things. The call even lasted three-hours, to which both of them never really minded.
But the road wasn't all fan meetings, flowers and sunshine. Their early filming days were riddled with stiff movements and high-pressure expectations. There were nights on set where the chemistry felt forced, where the director’s "Cut!" felt like a personal failure. They faced bitter arguments in dressing rooms, hushed whispers about "incompatibility," and moments where the exhaustion of being a "shipped" pair nearly broke them. There was a point, around three years in, where they sat in a parked car in total silence after an event, both thinking that perhaps it was time to end the partnership and go their separate ways.
Yet, they stayed. Joong stayed because he couldn't imagine a set without Dunk’s calming presence. Dunk stayed because he wanted everything, but wanted it with Joong.
At the Present
And as another year came, another birthday event.
The illuminating lights hit Dunk as he walks toward the love of his life, cake in hand with yellow letters “MY MJ”. He looks at Joong as the Happy Birthday Song, Cat version echoed through the hall.
Joong gripped the microphone, his voice echoing through the arena. "I want to say this clearly. I have been a fan of this person for five years.
The fans screamed, a deafening wave of "Awws" and camera shutters. Joong felt a swell of pride, five years was a long time in this industry. He looked at Dunk, expecting a shy smile.
Dunk took the microphone. He didn't look at the crowd. He looked directly at Joong, his eyes shimmering with a secret he had kept locked away since 2018.
"I’ve been a fan for eight..." Dunk said, his voice steady.
The arena went deathly quiet for a heartbeat before erupting in confused murmurs. Joong’s heart skipped. He let out a startled, breathless laugh, leaning into Dunk’s space.
"Wow, are you flexing, Dunk?" The MC teased.
Joong meanwhile just looked at Dunk, though his brain was frantically doing the math. "Yeah? Eight years?"
"Yeah," Dunk nodded, a playful but firm glint in his eyes.
The MC stepped forward, eyes wide. "He has five, you have eight—Dunk, when did it start? How is that possible?"
Dunk leaned into the mic, his expression a mix of nostalgia and hidden triumph. "From his first series… I’ve been watching him since then. For eight years."
Joong stood frozen, a wide, confused smile plastered on his face. His first series? Joong was barely eighteen then. He was a rookie with no fan club, struggling to learn his marks. He scanned Dunk’s face, looking for the punchline, but all he saw was a terrifying, beautiful sincerity.
The drive home was heavy with the ghost of that revelation. The city lights of Bangkok blurred past the windows of their car. Joong kept stealing glances at Dunk, who was scrolling through his phone, seemingly unfazed by the bomb he just dropped on stage.
"Eight years, Dunk," Joong finally said, his voice low. "You weren't just saying that for the fans? For the 'fan service'?"
Dunk locked his phone and turned to face Joong. The car pulled into their condo’s dim parking garage. "I don't do fan service with my heart, Joong. You know that."
Joong killed the engine. The silence was absolute. "But... 2018? I was nobody. I was just a kid in a supporting role who didn't know how to cry on cue."
"You were the kid who practiced his lines in the hallway when you thought no one was looking," Dunk said softly. "I saw you at a mall event back then. I wasn't even an actor yet. I was just a student who happened to see this guy on a stage who looked like he was trying so hard to be brave. I followed your career from that day on."
Joong felt a chill. All the struggles they had, the fights where they almost quit, the days he felt like he wasn't "good enough" for the pair, for Dunk and he had seen it all. Not just as a partner, but as a witness to Joong’s entire journey.
"The bathroom meeting," Joong whispered, the memory of their first interaction shifting in his mind. "You acted like you didn't know me. You acted like it was just a random meeting at the sinks."
"I had to," Dunk admitted, reaching out to brush a stray hair from Joong's forehead. "How do you tell the person you’ve admired for three years that you’ve been rooting for them from the back row of every event? You’d think I was a stalker."
Joong let out a shaky laugh, leaning his head back against the seat. "Eight years. You watched me fail, you watched me get replaced in projects, you watched me grow up... and you still chose to be my partner?"
"I didn't just choose to be your partner, Joong," Dunk whispered, leaning in until their noses touched. "I chose to be yours. Period."
Joong closed the distance, kissing Dunk with a courage that spoke of five years of partnership and eight years of a love he was only just beginning to understand.
The elevator ride up to their penthouse was silent, but the air between them hummed with a new, frantic energy. The moment the door clicked shut behind them, Joong didn’t head for the kitchen or the shower. He stayed rooted by the entryway, watching Dunk toss his keys onto the marble console.
"Show me," Joong said, his voice a mix of a challenge and a plea.
Dunk paused, a faint, embarrassed flush creeping up his neck. "Joong, it’s late. We have a shoot at 6:00 AM—"
"Dunk. Eight years," Joong reminded him, stepping into his space. "You can’t drop a three-year head start on me at a birthday event and then expect me to sleep. Show me the archive."
With a resigned sigh that bordered on a smile, Dunk led him into their shared study. He bypassed the sleek iMac they used for scripts and went to a bookshelf in the corner. Tucked behind a row of heavy engineering and media textbooks was a navy blue binder.
Dunk pulled it out, his fingers lingering on the cover before handing it over. "Don't laugh. I was eighteen and sentimental."
Joong opened it. His breath hitched.
The first page wasn't a professional photo. It was a clipped magazine snippet from 2019, a promo for 2moons2. There was a tiny, grainy picture of Joong as Ming, looking young, lean, and intensely focused.
"I watched every episode," Dunk whispered, standing just behind Joong’s shoulder. "I remember thinking that the guy playing Ming had eyes that looked like they were constantly searching for something. I wanted to be the one you found."
Joong flipped the page. It was a graveyard of memories:
A physical ticket stub from a small fan gathering in a suburban mall where Joong had performed a cover song.
Printed screenshots of Joong’s old Twitter account from when he had less than 10,000 followers.
A handwritten list of Joong’s early "Likes" and "Dislikes" that Dunk had compiled back then, just to feel closer to him.
"You were my 'bias' before I even knew what the word meant," Dunk admitted, his voice dropping an octave. "When we had those big fights after filming The Heart Killers... when I almost walked away because the pressure of being a 'pair' was too much... I’d come back to this room and look at this binder. I’d remind myself that I wasn't just fighting with my co-worker. I was fighting for the person I’d spent three years dreaming of standing next to."
Joong traced the edge of the 2moons2 clipping. He remembered that time, the uncertainty, the fear that he wouldn't make it in the industry, the loneliness of being a rookie. He had felt so alone back then.
"I thought I was invisible in 2019," Joong said, his voice thick. He turned around, pulling Dunk into the circle of his arms, the binder still clutched in one hand. "I spent five years trying to prove to you that I was a good partner. I didn't realize you’d already decided I was the only one for you before we even stepped into that bathroom."
Dunk leaned his forehead against Joong’s, a soft, triumphant glow in his eyes. "Five years as a pair, Joong. One year as a couple. But in my head? It’s always been us. Since the very first frame of your first show."
Joong closed the binder and set it on the desk, his gaze never leaving Dunk’s. "Then I guess I have the rest of my life to make sure your eighth year is the best one yet."
"Make it ten," Dunk teased, sliding his arms around Joong’s neck. "Then twenty. I’ve already waited this long; I’m not planning on stopping."
Joong laughed, low and warm, before leaning in to seal the eight-year-old promise with a kiss that tasted like home.