Joylada Gang One-shot Collection✨️

Between Us [PP]

After working with his co-partner for 3 years Phuwin think it's time to branch off to something different, pursue something different even if it's to get rid of his unrequited love. He took the step and left.

With Pond finding out about it and came to his condo unexpectedly and drunk the night he was supposed to leave.

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9:45pm

The room was dimly lit, the faint hum of the city filling the silence as Phuwin packed the last of his belongings. The decision to leave had been weighing heavily on his heart for months, ever since he realized that working alongside pond for the past three years was becoming unbearable—not because of any fault of his, but because of the feelings Phuwin harbored, feelings he could never express.

Unrequited love was a burden he’d carried long enough.

Phuwin being halfway through zipping his suitcase. He heard a loud knock on the door. He weren’t expecting anyone. The knock persisted, more frantic this time, accompanied by a muffled voice.

Opening the door, he was met with the disheveled sight of him— his co-star, his friend—eyes glazed, leaning against the frame for support. Phuwin could smell the alcohol on his breath before he even spoke.

“What the hell are you doing here?” he asked, heart racing as he tried to keep his voice steady.

He stumbled inside, brushing past him. “What’s so wrong with staying with me, huh?” His voice slurred, yet there was a raw edge to it, something vulnerable beneath the bravado.

Phuwin froze, caught between confusion and the undeniable affection swelling in his chest. Seeing pond like this—so unguarded, so...adorable—was a painful reminder of why he'd fallen for him in the first place.

Pond wobbled but didn’t stop, moving towards Phuwin’s half-packed bags, a mixture of frustration and desperation evident in his expression. “Don’t you get it, Phu? These three years—” He paused, struggling to find the right words. “These three years... that’s how long I’ve been holding back.” His voice broke, eyes locking onto Phuwin's an intensity that sent a chill down his spine. “And to think you’d felt the same.”

His breath hitched. Felt the same? What the hell was he talking about?

“I—” Phuwin tried to form a response, but the words got stuck in his throat.

Did he...?

“You can’t pack up and leave,” he said, his voice softening, and in an instant, his usual bravado cracked wide open. His eyes, now glassy with unshed tears, searched Phuwin's, pleading. “You’re stuck with me Phuwin Tang.”

A silence settled between him, thick with unspoken truths, his mind racing as he tried to comprehend what was happening.

He feels the same?

Phuwin stood there, stunned, his heart pounding in his chest. How bad he wanted to believe him, to believe that the confession spilling from his lips was real.

But then he looked at him, really looked at him—disheveled, eyes unfocused, his words slurring together. Pond was drunk, not thinking straight. He sighed, shaking his head.

“You’re out of it,” he said softly, reaching out to steady him as he swayed. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”

Pond pushed his hand away, a frustrated frown pulling at his lips. “Don’t do that.” His voice was sharp, though still tinged with that vulnerability. “Don’t act like I’m just saying this because I’m drunk. I’ve wanted to say it for so long...”