In the Grip of Jealousy (PondDunk)

Chapter 3

Constant thoughts of Dunk and Joong were distracting Pond from his work. Once, he effortlessly immersed himself in his role, each frame imbued with his passion and energy. Now, he found himself distracted, forgetting lines, and unable to focus. The director was giving him notes, and his colleagues were eyeing him with puzzlement.

During a scene where he was supposed to express deep sorrow, Pond suddenly laughed. The entire shoot came to a standstill. The director, arms crossed, stared at him disapprovingly.

"Pond, what's wrong? You seem completely disinterested in this project," he said, his tone cold.

Pond flushed. He was ashamed of his inattentiveness. He tried to apologize, but the words caught in his throat. The director sighed deeply.

"Let's take a break and try again," the director said, patting Pond on the shoulder. "Fifteen minutes, folks," he announced to the crew, and Pond wandered towards his chair.

He collapsed into it with a heavy sigh, shielding his eyes with his hand. Dunk hadn't shown up last night as planned, texting that the shoot had run late and it was closer to go home. Pond understood as well as anyone – sometimes the schedule was so packed, snatching an extra half-hour of sleep was like finding an oasis in the desert. But understanding didn't stop the longing, or the endless stream of what-ifs.
Lost in thought, Pond didn't notice Phuwin approaching. Phuwin watched him with undisguised concern.

"Hey, are you alright?" Phuwin asked, gently placing a hand on Pond's shoulder.

Pond opened his eyes and looked at Phuwin. His gaze was filled with a sincere desire to help.

"Not really," Pond admitted. "The shoot has been tough, and..." He trailed off, unsure how to continue.

Phuwin nodded, a knowing look in his eyes.

"I've noticed you've been a bit distracted lately," he said. "Want to talk about it? It often helps to get things off your chest."

Pond sighed. He really should talk about it. But how could he tell Phuwin about his feelings for Dunk? About the jealousy that was eating away at him? About feeling so alone and misunderstood?

"Yeah, you're right. It's just... you know how close Dunk and I are," Pond began, hedging.

"So it's about Dunk?" Phuwin asked, clarifying.

Pond nodded.

"He's my best friend, but something's changed lately," he confessed. "We've both been so busy, and we hardly see each other. I feel like I'm drifting away from him, and it scares me."

Phuwin listened attentively, without interrupting, and then smiled warmly.

"I think you should tell him that, not me. People can't read minds. If you don't say something, it'll only get worse."

Pond stared at Phuwin, acknowledging the obvious truth in his words. It was a bitter pill to swallow, knowing that he was right, and even more so, knowing that he knew it himself. He'd always believed that sweeping problems under the rug was never a solution.

"You're right, you're absolutely right," he mumbled. "It's just that he's always too busy to talk, so what's the point of even trying?"

Phuwin sat down beside him.

"You sound like a lovesick puppy," Phuwin teased, holding up his hands as Pond shot him a look. "Just kidding. But seriously, what's up with you two? Are you guys on the outs or something?"

Pond avoided his gaze.

"We didn't argue," he said sullenly. They hadn't, had they? Pond asked himself. But their last conversation had been rushed, somehow fragmented.

"That's not very convincing," Phuwin remarked.

Pond looked up at the sky. The bright sun blinded him, and the nearly white sky offered no answers. He was overwhelmed by the urge to speak, to share his burden. And he didn't want to hide anything from Phuwin.

Who else would understand him like Phuwin? He knew Phuwin wouldn't go blabbing about his relationship with Dunk, knowing full well that a public romance between two actors could damage their image, alienate fans, and even cost them lucrative contracts. And considering their popular ship, news of his relationship with Dunk could cause a real scandal.

Pond squeezed his hand tighter.

"Yeah, you're right, we are fighting. We're fighting because Dunk is more than just a friend," he admitted, his voice barely a whisper. And even if Phuwin's face showed surprise, Pond couldn't see it. "I'm jealous of him and June. I'm jealous that they spend so much time together, that they eat together, read scripts together, come home from set together. I'm so jealous that sometimes I can't think about anything else."

Pond ran his hand through his hair and took a deep breath.

"They're all over social media together: photos, videos. Fans are everywhere, saying what a cute couple they are..."

"Fans are everywhere, saying that you and I are a cute couple too," Phuwin smirked, mimicking his words so that Pond himself could hear how ridiculous it sounded. "So what? Where would we be without fan service these days? That's not what you're worried about, is it?"

Pond looked up at Phuwin, who didn't seem the least bit surprised by his confession.

"No," Pond agreed, his voice softening. "I'm afraid that eventually, Dunk will decide he's happier with him..."

"Than with you, you mean?" Phuwin finished.

Pond nodded. Phuwin leaned in and squeezed Pond's shoulder again.

"Pond," he said gently, "you might not see it, but the way you two look at each other, it's clear how much Dunk cares. I'm positive that if you talk to him, you'll see there's no reason to worry. But if you're nervous about saying it out loud, write it down. It's always helped me."

Pond looked at Phuwin and felt a weight lift off his chest. He placed his hand over Phuwin's and squeezed.

"Thank you," he said sincerely.

Phuwin blushed and pulled his hand away, then slapped Pond on the back.

"No problem, man, but later I want to hear all the juicy details about your relationship," he said, winking at Pond before standing up. "Let's go."

Pond nodded and stood up too.

As they returned to the set, Pond felt a renewed sense of purpose. He pushed his problems aside and immersed himself in his character, determined to give his best performance.

***

Late into the night, Pond sat on his balcony, a pen and notebook in hand. The words were slow to come, a far cry from the chaotic thoughts swirling in his head. What would he say to Dunk? Accuse him without proof? Demand a declaration of love? He wasn't sure.

He looked up at the starlit sky, searching for guidance, before returning his gaze to the blank page.

"Dunk," he wrote, the name a tentative beginning. But as he wrote, the words flowed more freely, pouring out the emotions he'd been holding in.

With each word, the weight on his chest lifted a little more. When he finished, he sat for a long time, watching the night sky. He felt exposed, yet strangely liberated. He had finally spoken his truth. Now, it was out of his hands.