Hold me as tight as possible {JoongDunk & PondPhuwin}

24. Unspoken Truths

Joong's pov:

Football team parties are their own breed of chaos—loud music, enough drinks to drown a small army, and a guarantee you’d wake up regretting at least half of your choices. Last night at Niran’s place? No exception.
The house had been packed wall-to-wall, the bass from the speakers vibrating through the floors and mingling with the shouts and laughter of my teammates. Pond, as usual, had been in his element, downing some bizarre green cocktail while challenging First to a dance-off. It wasn’t pretty.
I’d been roped into a round of truth or dare early on. Of course, Niran, being the sadistic mastermind he is, made it his mission to humiliate us.
“Joong, truth or dare!” he’d shouted, his grin practically splitting his face.
I sighed, already bracing myself. “Dare, I guess.”
The grin widened. “Perfect. I dare you to chug a beer while doing pushups.”
The room erupted in cheers and laughter. Before I could protest, someone handed me a beer, and Pond crouched beside me, recording the entire thing like it was the highlight of his year. Beer spilled everywhere, my form was atrocious, and by the time I flopped to the floor, I was convinced this night couldn’t get worse.

I was wrong.

---

The next morning, I woke up sprawled on Niran’s lumpy couch, my head pounding like a drum. The sunlight streaming through the windows felt cruel, illuminating the mess from the night before—empty bottles, discarded cups, and what looked like someone’s shoe in the sink.
On the floor, Pond was snoring lightly, half-buried under the coffee table with an empty beer can clutched in his hand.
“Pond,” I croaked, nudging him with my foot.
He groaned, burying his face deeper into the carpet.
“Get up. We’re late.”
“What time is it?” he mumbled, his voice muffled.
I squinted at my phone. “Almost eight.”
Pond sat up groggily, rubbing his temples. “Please tell me we have a car.”
“We don’t.”
“Great.” He flopped back down dramatically.
I sighed, scrolling through my contacts. Dunk’s name stared back at me, and I hesitated for a second before hitting call.

He picked up on the second ring, his voice groggy but distinctly unimpressed. “Joong? What do you want?”
“We’re stranded at Niran’s. Can you pick us up?”
There was a pause, and I could feel his judgment through the phone. “Fine. But I’m bringing Phuwin. He has a morning class.”
“Thanks, Dunk. I owe you.”
“Yeah, you do.”

---

Fifteen minutes later, Dunk’s car pulled up outside. He looked way too good for someone who’d just rolled out of bed—hair artfully tousled, sunglasses perched on his nose. Phuwin was in the passenger seat, scrolling through his phone.
“You two look like death,” Dunk said as Pond and I climbed into the backseat.
“Thanks,” I muttered, leaning my head against the window.
Phuwin glanced back at us, a small smile on his face. “Rough night?”
“You could say that,” Pond grumbled, his voice hoarse.
Dunk rolled his eyes. “You guys are lucky I’m a good friend. I should’ve left you there to suffer.”
“Noted,” I said dryly.

---

Once we got to campus, coffee became the immediate priority. Dunk grabbed his usual black coffee while Pond and I ordered enough caffeine to keep us upright for the rest of the day.

We found a table near the courtyard, surrounded by students buzzing about their day. The Valentine’s Day decorations were in full force—heart-shaped balloons, pink streamers, and tables selling overpriced chocolates.
“So,” Dunk said, breaking the silence, “what’s everyone’s week looking like?”
“Classes, labs, the usual grind,” I replied, sipping my coffee.
“What about you, Phuwin?”
Phuwin looked up from his cup. “Mostly practicing. I have a recital coming up, so I’m trying to perfect my setlist.”
“That’s cool,” I said. “What’s on the setlist?”
“Some piano, a bit of guitar. Mostly originals.”
“That’s impressive,” Pond chimed in, his tone unusually soft.
Phuwin smiled. “Thanks. I’ll let you know the date if you want to come.”
“I’d love to,” Pond said quickly, then seemed to realize how eager he sounded. His cheeks turned pink, and he covered by taking another sip of coffee.
Dunk smirked at me, leaning closer. “Your boy’s so obvious.”
“I know,” I whispered back, suppressing a laugh.

---

After coffee, Dunk headed off to his art studio, and Phuwin disappeared toward the music building. Pond and I made our way to engineering, the walk quieter than usual.

Finally, he broke the silence. “Joong, I need your advice.”
“This about Phuwin?”
He groaned, running a hand through his hair. “Am I that obvious?”
“Yes.”
He sighed. “I want to ask him out, but… what if he doesn’t feel the same?”
“He does,” I said, cutting him off. “Anyone with eyes can see that.”
Pond hesitated. “You’re sure?”
“Absolutely. Just keep it simple.”
“Simple,” he repeated, nodding as if trying to convince himself. “Okay. I’ll figure something out. Thanks, man.”
“Anytime.”

---

By the time I got back to my place, exhaustion weighed heavily on me, but my mind was too busy to let me rest. Dunk had been on my mind all day, his teasing smirk and the way his eyes seemed to linger just a moment too long.

I found myself scrolling through old messages, reliving past conversations, and trying to make sense of the tension between us. It wasn’t just friendship anymore, was it?
Pond wasn’t the only one overthinking things.
If he could find the courage to make a move with Phuwin, maybe I could stop dancing around whatever was happening with Dunk.

And maybe, just maybe, I’d finally take the leap.

I was brought back to reality when I got a notification on Instagram.
I was tagged in a post with 50 other people.
What the fuck.
The post was videos and photos from last night.
I laughed to myself as I scrolled through.
There was a video of Force and Sea singing karaoke together, a video of First jumping in the pool fully clothed, and a video of me chugging beer while doing push-ups.
What the fuck.
I'm never showing my face at school again.