one shot

pondphuwin

Phuwin had always believed that he was strong. Strong enough to hold his emotions in check, strong enough to be a good brother, a good friend. But that belief was shattered the moment he met Pond.

They met during their freshman year at university. Pond was charming, with an effortless smile and a magnetic personality that drew people in. Phuwin couldn't help but be captivated by him. They quickly became friends, bonding over shared interests in music, late-night ramen, and their similar sense of humor. Phuwin found himself smiling more, laughing more—because of Pond.

But what started as a simple friendship for Pond turned into something deeper for Phuwin. He couldn't pinpoint the exact moment it happened, but one day, he realized he was in love. Pond, however, seemed blissfully unaware, treating Phuwin like a brother, never seeing the longing in his eyes or the way his heart raced whenever they were together.

Phuwin never told Pond how he felt. He was too afraid of ruining their friendship, too scared of rejection. Instead, he kept his feelings buried, convinced that it was better to have Pond in his life as a friend than not at all. He could live with that, or so he thought.

Everything changed when his sister, Nam, came into the picture. She met Pond at one of their mutual friends' parties. Phuwin watched from across the room as they hit it off instantly, laughing and chatting like they'd known each other for years. It was like a knife to his heart, but he smiled through it, pushing down the jealousy that threatened to overwhelm him.

Soon enough, Pond and Nam started dating. It was a nightmare come true for Phuwin, but he kept quiet, not wanting to seem petty or jealous. He told himself it was for the best. Pond was happy, his sister was happy—that was all that mattered. Or at least, that's what he tried to believe.

But watching them together was torture. Phuwin would sit in silence as they flirted and exchanged sweet nothings, pretending that it didn't bother him. Every affectionate glance they shared, every kiss they exchanged, felt like a dagger to his chest. Yet, he couldn't distance himself from them. He was too deeply intertwined in their lives, too tied to Pond to just walk away.

Then came the night that changed everything.

It was another university party, one like countless others they had attended over the years. Pond had drunk more than usual, his normally composed demeanor unraveling as the night wore on. Phuwin watched him from across the room, his heart aching with the same mix of longing and despair that had become all too familiar.

When the party ended, Pond was too intoxicated to go home. Nam was out of town for a family event, so Phuwin offered to let him stay at his apartment for the night. It wasn't the first time; Pond had crashed on his couch more times than Phuwin could count. But tonight felt different—there was an undercurrent of something neither of them wanted to acknowledge.

Back at Phuwin's apartment, Pond collapsed on the couch, still holding his drink. Phuwin sat beside him, close enough to feel the heat radiating off his body, the scent of alcohol and Pond's cologne filling the space between them. They talked, their conversation drifting in and out of coherence as the alcohol clouded their minds.

Then, without warning, Pond leaned in and kissed him.

Phuwin froze, his mind going blank. It was everything he had ever wanted, but nothing like he had imagined. Pond's lips were warm and insistent, tasting of whiskey and something else, something uniquely him. Phuwin's heart pounded in his chest, his body reacting before his mind could catch up.

He should have pulled away, should have stopped it before it went too far, but he couldn't. He was too weak, too in love. The years of longing, of wanting something he could never have, all came rushing to the surface, and Phuwin found himself kissing Pond back with a desperation that scared him.

They stumbled to Phuwin's bedroom, their hands fumbling with each other's clothes. It was messy, uncoordinated, fueled by too much alcohol and too many unspoken feelings. When they finally came together, it was rough, urgent, and far from the romantic fantasy Phuwin had built up in his head. But it didn't matter—he was with Pond, and for a brief moment, that was enough.

When it was over, Pond passed out almost immediately, his body slumping into the mattress. Phuwin lay beside him, staring at the ceiling, his mind racing. The reality of what had just happened began to sink in, and with it, the guilt. He had slept with his sister's boyfriend, the man he loved but could never truly have. It was wrong, so terribly wrong, but the worst part was that he didn't regret it. He knew he should, but all he felt was a hollow emptiness mixed with the lingering warmth of Pond's touch.

He told himself it was a one-time mistake, something that would never happen again. But deep down, he knew better. He was too far gone, too in love to walk away now.

And he was right.

The next time it happened, Pond was sober. Phuwin had avoided him for days, unable to face him after what they had done. But Pond showed up at his apartment late one night, unannounced, with a look in his eyes that Phuwin couldn't quite read. They didn't talk about what had happened before, didn't acknowledge the growing tension between them. Instead, they fell into bed together once again, this time with full awareness of what they were doing.

Phuwin knew he should stop it, knew it was wrong on so many levels, but he couldn't. Pond was like a drug—addictive, consuming, impossible to resist. Every time Pond touched him, every time he whispered Phuwin's name in the dark, all the guilt and shame melted away, leaving only the love that had consumed him for so long.

But as their secret affair continued, Phuwin began to see a side of Pond that he had never seen before. Pond was selfish, using Phuwin to satisfy his own needs while keeping his relationship with Nam intact. He never acknowledged what they were doing outside of the bedroom, never talked about it when the sun came up. It was as if it didn't exist in the daylight, as if Phuwin was just a temporary escape, a way for Pond to indulge in something he would never fully commit to.

Phuwin saw all of this, but he was too blinded by his love for Pond to stop. He convinced himself that it was enough, that having Pond in this way, even if it was wrong, was better than not having him at all. He knew it was a lie, knew he was only hurting himself, but he couldn't bring himself to end it.

The guilt gnawed at him every day, especially when he saw Nam. She was happy, blissfully unaware of the betrayal happening right under her nose. Phuwin hated himself for what he was doing to her, hated himself for being so weak. But every time he tried to pull away, Pond would come back, drawing him in with a smile, a touch, a whispered promise that never quite materialized.

Phuwin's world became a twisted web of lies and secrets, and he was trapped in the center, unable to break free. His love for Pond was like a poison, slowly killing him, but he couldn't let go. Even as he watched Pond go back to Nam, acting as if nothing had happened between them, Phuwin clung to the illusion, telling himself that it was better than nothing.

But deep down, he knew it was only a matter of time before everything came crashing down. The guilt, the shame, the lies—it was all too much to bear. Yet, despite knowing this, Phuwin continued down the same path, blinded by a love that was as toxic as it was consuming.

Because sometimes, love wasn't about doing what was right. Sometimes, it was about holding on to the only thing that made the pain bearable, even if it meant losing yourself in the process. And for Phuwin, that love, that desperate, hopeless love for Pond, was all he had left.