Chapter Text
The sun hung low over GMM International University, painting the old campus buildings in warm shades of gold and amber. Beneath the sprawling branches of the ancient Bodhi tree, a small crowd had gathered, whispering excitedly, phones held high. This was the spot where legends were made—or so the campus rumor mill claimed. Today, it was supposed to be the stage for the most anticipated romantic event of the semester: Gemini’s confession to Fourth.
Gemini, the lead vocalist of the Music Club, stood nervously near the tree trunk, holding a guitar. His cheeks were flushed pink, his fingers plucking a soft, sweet melody that floated through the air. Fourth, the club’s brightest pianist and the object of Gemini’s quiet affection, stood a few paces away, dressed in a soft white shirt, looking like he had stepped straight out of a romance drama. Everyone knew they were perfect for each other—soft, talented, and always looking at one another when they thought no one was watching.
“Is he really going to do it?” a first-year student whispered.
“Shh! This is history in the making,” another replied.
Gemini took a deep breath, looked directly at Fourth, and opened his mouth to sing the lyrics he had written over weeks of sleepless nights. The melody rose, gentle and sincere, and Fourth’s smile grew soft, his eyes shining.
Then—CRACKLE.
A sharp, static noise tore through the speakers hanging from the tree branches. The sweet guitar music died instantly, replaced by a low, exaggerated, heavy breathing sound that echoed across the entire courtyard. Hhh-hhh… hhh-hhh… It was loud, wet, and unmistakably menacing in the most ridiculous way possible.
Before anyone could react, the speakers blared to life again—but this time, instead of a love song, ear-splittingly loud Thai country music blasted at maximum volume. The fast-paced, brassy tune was so loud that people instinctively covered their ears. Leaves shook loose from the Bodhi tree, falling like rain. Gemini froze, his guitar slipping slightly in his hands. Fourth jumped back, eyes wide, looking around in confusion.
From the edge of the crowd, a figure darted away—tall, bulky, wearing an enormous, grey elephant mascot head that wobbled comically as it ran. It carried no weapon, left no threat, but the message was clear: Your romantic moment has been interrupted.
Right there, in the center of the page—as if the story itself was typing it out—bold text appeared:
Heartbreak Count: 1
The crowd erupted in laughter and chaos, but one person was not amused.
Phuwin, President of the Student Council, stood at the edge of the courtyard, arms crossed tightly over his chest, his expression sharp and severe. He adjusted his glasses, his mind already racing through the implications. GMM International was an elite institution, known for its order, its prestige, and its flawless reputation. Pranks were one thing—this was a calculated disruption of campus order. And Phuwin, being the brilliant, rational, and slightly cynical leader he was, took order very seriously.
“Unbelievable,” he muttered to himself. “First the cafeteria food fights, then the library book hiding, and now… this. A mascot with a breathing problem and a grudge against romance?”
He turned on his heel, ready to march back to the Student Council office and draft an official report, when a shadow fell over him.
“Well, that was dramatic, wasn’t it?”
Phuwin looked up to see Pond standing there, leaning casually against a stone pillar, grinning that bright, charming smile that seemed to make half the campus swoon. Pond was everything Phuwin was not: an Engineering student, effortlessly popular, playful, and famously romantic. He was also, much to Phuwin’s constant annoyance, always underfoot.
Pond pushed himself off the pillar and stepped closer, his dark eyes glinting with amusement—and something softer, something he’d been hiding for months. “Our esteemed President looks like he’s about to declare martial law. You aren’t going to expel an elephant, are you?”
Phuwin sighed, rolling his eyes. “This isn’t funny, Pond. Whoever that was is disrupting campus activities, embarrassing students, and turning this university into a circus. I need to find out who they are and stop them before the open house next week. If parents see this… nonsense… my perfect record will be ruined.”
Pond laughed, stepping even closer until he was standing right in front of Phuwin. He leaned down slightly, his voice dropping to a warm, teasing tone. “You worry too much, Phuwin. But… since you look so stressed, I have a proposal.”
Phuwin narrowed his eyes. “I don’t like the sound of this.”
“Hear me out,” Pond said, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “I’m an Engineering student. I know about security systems, surveillance, crowd control… and I’m very good at… observing things. I volunteer as your personal assistant, your investigator, your… bodyguard. I’ll help you catch the ‘Heavy Breather’ or whatever we’re calling them. In exchange… you just let me stick by your side. That’s all.”
Phuwin stared at him, trying to find the catch. He knew Pond had been trying to get close to him for months—always bringing him coffee, always volunteering for extra Student Council work, always finding reasons to be near him. Phuwin had convinced himself it was just Pond being friendly, or bored, or just naturally charming to everyone. But deep down, there was a flutter in his chest that he refused to acknowledge. He was a man of logic, of facts, of schedules. Romance was a distraction he simply did not have time for.
But… Pond did have a point. He was smart, he was connected, and he knew everyone on campus. And Phuwin had to admit—having someone else to run errands and gather information would make the job easier.
“Fine,” Phuwin said, finally, trying to sound stern despite the faint pink rising on his cheeks. “But you follow my orders. No detours, no jokes, and absolutely no… unnecessary touching.”
Pond’s grin widened, and he extended his hand, palm open. “Deal. But you know, in detective movies, partners shake hands to seal the agreement.”
Phuwin hesitated for a second, then placed his hand in Pond’s. The moment their skin touched, Phuwin felt a jolt run through him—warmth, solidity, something that made his heart beat just a little faster. He pulled his hand back quickly, shoving it into his pocket.
“Let’s go,” Phuwin said, turning away to hide his flush. “We have work to do.”
Behind him, Pond watched him go, his smile softening into something much more tender. He had been waiting a long time for this chance. If a mysterious prankster in an elephant suit was the key to getting closer to Phuwin, then Pond was going to make sure this investigation lasted as long as possible.
Somewhere in the distance, a heavy, exaggerated breath seemed to echo on the wind. Heartbreak Count: 1 glowed in the air, but for Pond, the game had only just begun.
---
By the next morning, the story of the Heavy Breather had spread across the university like wildfire. Social media was flooded with memes, videos, and theories. Students were half terrified, half delighted, and the campus atmosphere was buzzing with chaotic energy. Phuwin spent the early hours in the Student Council office, surrounded by files, maps, and notes, while Pond sat on the desk, swinging his legs and sipping iced coffee, watching Phuwin work with adoring eyes.
“Have you noticed the calling cards?” Phuwin asked, tapping a photograph on the desk. It showed the spot under the Bodhi tree where Gemini’s confession had been ruined. Right in the center, left like a signature, was a giant, bright yellow paperclip, easily the size of a hand.
Pond leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand. “Giant paperclips, loudspeakers, bad music… whoever this is, they have very specific tastes. And very strange ideas about crime.”
“It’s not a crime, technically,” Phuwin corrected, adjusting his glasses. “It’s a series of pranks. But they are targeted. Look at the pattern. Every single incident happens when two people are… in a romantic situation. It’s always couples. That’s the motive.”
Before Pond could reply, their phones buzzed simultaneously. A new alert had been sent out: The Breather has struck again.
They rushed out of the office and toward the main campus grounds, where the annual float parade was taking place. Colorful floats, representing different faculties, were moving slowly down the main avenue, decorated with flowers, lights, and banners. Crowds lined the street, cheering and taking photos.
Near the Engineering float, Joong and Dunk stood together, looking like they had stepped out of a period drama. They were dressed in matching cream-colored outfits, holding hands, their faces turned toward each other in that dramatic, intense way they always did. They had planned this moment for weeks: a romantic, cinematic confession, right as their float passed by the grandstand. It was going to be the most beautiful, dramatic moment of the year.
The sky, conveniently, had turned grey, and a soft, misty rain had begun to fall—perfect for their dramatic scene. Joong held up two large, elegant umbrellas, ready to shield them both, his eyes locked on Dunk’s.
Then—Hhh-hhh… hhh-hhh…
The heavy breathing sound returned, booming from the speakers mounted on the float. Before anyone could move, a figure in the grey elephant mascot suit leaped out from behind a cluster of potted plants. With surprising speed, the Breather snatched both umbrellas from Joong’s hands and replaced them with two enormous, floppy, green banana leaves, still dripping wet and leaking rainwater everywhere.
The Breather vanished into the crowd before anyone could grab him. Joong and Dunk stood there, soaked, holding sagging, leaking leaves, looking less like romantic leads and more like two confused farmers caught in a storm. The crowd burst into laughter.
Heartbreak Count: 4 flashed boldly in the air, right above them.
Phuwin groaned, grabbing his head. “Four! It went from one to four! How did I miss the other two? What happened?”
Pond pulled out his phone, scrolling quickly. “Oh, right! While we were busy analyzing paperclips… Force and Book tried to have that fancy dinner date at the rooftop restaurant. Someone swapped their steaks for raw stinky tofu. And Milk and Love—they were celebrating their championship win in the locker room, sharing a quiet moment… and suddenly a leaf blower blasted them with a mountain of baby powder. They look like ghosts in the photos.”
Phuwin stared at him, horrified. “Stinky tofu? Baby powder? Banana leaves? What is wrong with this person?”
“Clearly, they have a grudge against romance,” Pond said, grinning. “Or maybe they just really hate happy people.”
Suddenly, a commotion started nearby. The elephant mascot had been spotted near the food stalls, moving quickly through the crowd.
“There!” Phuwin shouted, pointing. “Come on!”
He took off running, Pond right behind him. They wove through students, dodging floats and banners, chasing the bulky grey figure toward the old service buildings at the back of the campus. The Breather was surprisingly fast, but the suit was clumsy, making it hard to navigate tight spaces.
They cornered the figure near a row of storage closets. Phuwin was about to step forward and demand they take off the head, when the Breather suddenly turned and shoved open the nearest door, slipping inside.
“Got you now,” Phuwin said, marching forward.
But before he could reach the handle, Pond grabbed his arm and pulled him sharply to the side, shoving them both into the narrow, dark space of the adjacent broom closet. He pressed a finger to his lips, listening carefully. Footsteps ran past the door, heavy and fast, before fading away.
They were safe, but the space was incredibly small.
Phuwin found himself pressed back against the shelf of cleaning supplies, his chest almost touching Pond’s. He could feel the warmth radiating from Pond’s body, smell the faint, sweet scent of his shampoo, hear the steady rhythm of his breathing. Pond’s hands were still resting on Phuwin’s arms, holding him gently but firmly in place.
In the darkness, Phuwin’s heart began to race—fast, hard, and loud. He told himself it was adrenaline. He told himself it was fear of the mysterious prankster. He told himself it was just the excitement of the chase. But deep down, he knew it was none of those things. It was Pond. It was the way Pond was looking at him, his eyes dark and soft, filled with an emotion Phuwin had been trying to ignore for months.
“Are you okay?” Pond whispered, his voice low and intimate in the tight space.
Phuwin nodded, unable to speak, his throat suddenly dry. He looked up, and their faces were so close that their noses almost brushed. He could see every detail of Pond’s face, the curve of his smile, the way his eyelashes cast soft shadows on his cheeks.
“You’re breathing fast,” Pond noted, his thumb brushing lightly over Phuwin’s arm. “Scared of the elephant?”
Phuwin swallowed hard, forcing himself to look away. “Of course not. It’s just… confined spaces. Lack of oxygen. That’s all.”
Pond chuckled softly, the sound vibrating through his chest and into Phuwin’s. “Sure. If you say so, Mr. President.”
They stayed there for a few more moments, hidden in the dark, surrounded by the smell of lemon cleaner and old dust. For Phuwin, the world outside didn’t matter anymore. The pranks, the mascot, the chaos—none of it seemed important compared to the feeling of being this close to Pond. It was terrifying, and wonderful, and completely against every rule Phuwin had set for himself.
When the footsteps were completely gone, Pond opened the door just a crack, letting in a sliver of light. He stepped out first, then turned back and offered his hand to Phuwin, helping him out.
Phuwin brushed off his clothes, trying to regain his composure. “We… we need to keep going. We have to find out who this is before they ruin the masquerade ball next week.”
Pond stood watching him, his expression soft and knowing. He reached out and adjusted the collar of Phuwin’s shirt, his fingers lingering for just a second longer than necessary.
“Don’t worry,” Pond said quietly. “I’ll be right here. I’m not going anywhere.”
Phuwin looked at him, his heart still fluttering wildly. He wanted to say something sharp, something logical, something that would put distance between them again. But instead, he just nodded, turned around, and walked away, leaving Pond standing there, smiling to himself.
Somewhere, unseen, the heavy breathing echoed again. But for Phuwin, the real mystery was no longer the Breather. It was why, every time Pond touched him, his carefully constructed walls threatened to crumble completely.
---
By the third day, the campus was practically in a state of emergency. The student body was divided into teams: some tried to catch the Breather, others tried to protect romantic moments, and a third group just wanted to see what ridiculous prank would happen next. The administration was growing nervous, and rumors were flying faster than gossip in the cafeteria.
The most popular theory, it turned out, was also the most ridiculous: the culprit was the university janitor, Uncle Nuea.
Uncle Nuea was a campus legend. He was an older man, quiet and eccentric, who walked with a strange, lopsided gait because of an old injury. He always carried a long plunger over his shoulder, wore mismatched socks, and rarely spoke to anyone. He was harmless, sweet, and beloved by students, but because he was different and because he was always around, people had decided he must be the mastermind behind the elephant suit.
“It’s obvious!” one student argued loudly in the cafeteria. “He walks funny—just like the person in the suit! He has access to every building! And that plunger? That’s definitely a weapon! Or a tool for pranks!”
Phuwin listened to the conversation with a deep frown, stirring his rice absently. He knew Uncle Nuea. The man had helped Phuwin carry boxes during his first year, had fixed his bike tire for free, and always left extra snacks for the stray cats near the dorms. He was as innocent as a kitten. But logic didn’t matter when people were scared and excited.
“This is absurd,” Phuwin muttered, pushing his plate away.
Pond, sitting across from him, leaned back in his chair, watching Phuwin with amusement. “You’re angry.”
“Of course I’m angry! They’re accusing a sweet old man just because he’s different and convenient. And they’re ignoring the actual clues we found.” Phuwin pulled out his notebook, slamming it open on the table. “Look at this. Every item used in the pranks—paperclips, sound equipment, durian fruit, fish sauce, baby powder, banana leaves… these aren’t things a janitor would have easy access to in such large quantities. These are things you buy at markets, or borrow from club storage rooms. This is someone who knows the campus layout, who knows exactly where couples go, and who has the time and resources to plan this out.”
Pond nodded, his expression turning serious. “You’re right. Uncle Nuea couldn’t organize a prank this big even if he tried. And besides… did you see the size of the person in the suit? They were tall. Younger. Much more agile.”
“Exactly,” Phuwin said, closing the notebook firmly. “We need to prove his innocence and find the real culprit. Tonight. We’re staying in the Student Council office to go over every report, every witness statement, every photo we have. No sleep. No breaks. Until we solve this.”
Pond smiled, shaking his head. “You really are incredible, you know that? Okay. I’m in. But… I have conditions.”
Phuwin raised an eyebrow. “Conditions?”
“One: I get to order the food. Two: You have to take breaks when I say so. And three…” Pond leaned forward, his voice dropping to that warm, teasing tone again. “…You let me help you. Not just with the work. With everything.”
Phuwin looked away, feeling that familiar heat rise in his cheeks. He knew exactly what Pond meant. Over the last few days, Pond had become less of a helper and more of a constant presence—carrying his bag, opening doors, bringing him drinks, always there, always smiling, always making Phuwin’s heart do somersaults he couldn’t explain.
“Fine,” Phuwin said, standing up quickly to hide his reaction. “But don’t get in my way.”
That evening, the Student Council office was lit only by desk lamps and the glow of computer screens. Piles of paper covered every surface. Phuwin sat at his desk, glasses slipping down his nose, typing furiously, cross-referencing schedules and club activities. Pond sat on the edge of the desk nearby, working on his own laptop, but mostly watching Phuwin.
Around midnight, Phuwin rubbed his eyes, yawning quietly. He had been working for hours, his shoulders stiff and aching. Suddenly, a tall glass of iced Americano appeared in front of him—his favorite, exactly how he liked it, less ice, extra shot.
He looked up to see Pond standing beside him, holding the drink, his other hand resting gently on Phuwin’s tense shoulder.
“Drink,” Pond said softly. “You’ve been staring at the same screen for three hours. Your eyes are going to turn square.”
Phuwin took the glass, his fingers brushing against Pond’s. “I’m fine. I just need to find the pattern.”
Pond didn’t move away. Instead, he began to massage Phuwin’s shoulders firmly but gently, working out the knots of tension that had built up there. Phuwin froze for a second, then slowly relaxed, letting his head fall forward slightly. It felt… wonderful. It felt safe. It felt like something he had wanted for a long time, but never dared to ask for.
“You work too hard, Phuwin,” Pond murmured, his hands moving slowly up to Phuwin’s neck. “You carry everything on your own. You don’t have to, you know. I’m here. I want to help. Not just with the mystery… but with everything else, too.”
Phuwin closed his eyes, breathing in the scent of Pond’s cologne, feeling the warmth of his hands. In the quiet of the office, away from the chaos of the campus, the walls he had built around himself felt thinner than ever.
“Why?” Phuwin asked quietly, without opening his eyes. “Why do you do this? Why do you help me? Why do you… stay?”
Pond’s hands paused for a moment, then continued their soothing motion. “Because I like you, Phuwin. I think you know that. I’ve liked you for a very long time. You’re smart, and strong, and you care so much about everything and everyone… even if you try to hide it behind that serious face of yours. I see you. And I want to be the person who takes care of you, just like you take care of everyone else.”
Phuwin’s heart hammered against his ribs. He wanted to turn around, to look at Pond, to say something, anything. But fear held him back—the fear of ruining their friendship, the fear of being wrong, the fear of letting romance disrupt his carefully ordered life.
Instead, he cleared his throat and sat up straight, pulling away slightly. “We… we should get back to work. We have the masquerade ball coming up. If I was the Breather… that’s where I would strike next. It’s the biggest romantic event of the year. The perfect target.”
Pond smiled softly, recognizing the deflection, and didn’t push. He simply nodded, sitting back down next to Phuwin, close enough that their arms touched.
“You’re right,” Pond said, his voice warm and steady. “The Masquerade. That’s the climax. If we don’t catch them before then, they’re going to try something big. Something… unforgettable.”
They worked through the rest of the night, side by side. As the sun began to rise, casting soft pink light through the office windows, Phuwin finally found it—a connection, a name, a pattern he had missed before.
He sat back, stunned. “I know who it is.”
Pond looked at him, wide awake instantly. “Who?”
Phuwin turned to him, his expression serious and a little sad. “It’s not Uncle Nuea. It’s… it’s someone much closer to us.”
And as the morning sun lit up the room, Phuwin realized that solving the mystery was only half the battle. Because as much as he wanted to catch the Breather, he was starting to realize something far more important: he was falling in love with the man sitting next to him. And that was a mystery he wasn’t sure he was ready to solve yet.
---
The night of the Annual University Masquerade Ball arrived in a blaze of lights, music, and elegance. The grand hall was decorated with silk drapes, fairy lights, and hundreds of fresh flowers. Students arrived in stunning formal wear, wearing intricate masks that hid their identities, turning the room into a magical, mysterious world.
For weeks, Phuwin had been preparing for this night. He was certain that the Breather would make their grandest appearance here. It was the heart of the romantic season, the night when couples traditionally became official, confessed their feelings, or shared their first kiss. To the Breather, this was the ultimate prize.
Phuwin stood near the entrance, scanning the crowd, his sharp eyes missing nothing. He wore a tailored deep blue suit that fit him perfectly, and a simple silver mask that covered the upper half of his face. He looked every bit the brilliant, composed Student Council President. But inside, he was nervous—not just about catching the culprit, but about the person standing next to him.
Pond had arrived ten minutes earlier, and Phuwin had almost forgotten how to breathe when he saw him. Pond was wearing a black suit with a gold waistcoat, his mask a matching gold and black design that framed his eyes perfectly. He looked handsome, charming, and completely devastating. He walked up to Phuwin, offered his arm with a sweeping bow, and smiled that smile that made Phuwin’s knees weak.
“May I have this dance, Mr. President?” Pond asked, his voice low and smooth. “For investigative purposes, of course.”
Phuwin hesitated, then placed his hand on Pond’s arm. “Of course. Strictly… investigative.”
They moved onto the dance floor, joining the swirling couples. The orchestra played a slow, waltz-like melody. Pond placed one hand firmly at Phuwin’s waist, the other holding Phuwin’s hand gently but securely. They began to move together, perfectly in sync, as if they had been dancing together for years.
Around them, the room blurred into a sea of colors and lights. Phuwin looked up at Pond, and for a moment, the investigation, the pranks, the mystery—all of it vanished. There was only this: the music, the warmth of Pond’s body, the way Pond looked at him as if he were the only person in the room.
“You look beautiful tonight,” Pond said softly, leaning down so his lips were close to Phuwin’s ear. “Not that you don’t always… but tonight… you’re breathtaking.”
Phuwin’s face burned, hidden partially by his mask. “Pond… we’re supposed to be watching for suspects.”
“I am watching,” Pond replied, his thumb brushing lightly over the back of Phuwin’s hand. “I’m watching you.”
Phuwin’s heart raced. He knew he should pull away, should focus on the task at hand. But he couldn’t. Being this close to Pond felt like coming home. It felt right. For months, he had told himself he had no time for romance, that it was a distraction, that logic was the only thing that mattered. But here, in Pond’s arms, logic didn’t stand a chance.
He looked deep into Pond’s eyes, seeing the affection, the devotion, the love that had been there all along. He realized then that he hadn’t been ignoring Pond’s feelings because he didn’t feel the same. He had been ignoring them because he was scared. Scared of losing control, scared of getting hurt, scared of letting someone see all of him.
But Pond had already seen him. Pond had seen the tiredness, the stress, the kindness he tried to hide. Pond had stayed anyway.
Slowly, the music softened. The other couples seemed to fade into the background. Pond leaned down, his face coming closer, closer… his eyes drifting down to Phuwin’s lips. Phuwin’s breath caught. He leaned up slightly, his eyes closing, ready to finally let go, ready to let this happen.
Hhh-hhh… hhh-hhh…
The sound boomed through the speakers, loud and distorted, cutting through the music instantly.
Phuwin’s eyes snapped open. The spell was broken.
Laughter and gasps erupted around the room. From the ceiling, descending on a rope, came the familiar bulky figure in the grey elephant mascot head. In its hands, it held a massive, oversized metal bucket, heavy and dripping slightly.
The Breather swung the bucket back, ready to dump the entire sweet, sticky, yellow mess over the dance floor, ruining the night for everyone.
“Get down!” Pond shouted.
Without hesitation, he grabbed Phuwin and pushed him behind a large pillar, shielding him with his own body. Then, Pond launched himself forward, sprinting across the dance floor, and tackled the descending figure mid-air.
They crashed to the floor with a loud thud, the bucket flying from the Breather’s hands and spilling its contents harmlessly onto the side of the stage. Students screamed and cheered, pulling out phones to record.
Phuwin was there in seconds, dropping to his knees beside the struggling pair. “Hold them down! Don’t let them go!”
Pond pinned the figure’s arms to the floor. Phuwin reached out, grabbed the oversized elephant head, and pulled it off with one sharp tug.
The room went silent.
Standing up, brushing dust off his clothes, was Not, the Vice President of the Student Council.
Not—quiet, polite, always helpful, always standing just behind Phuwin, always single, always watching couples with a faint, sad expression.
“It was you,” Phuwin said, stunned. “All this time… it was you.”
Not looked around at the crowd, his face flushed, his expression a mix of embarrassment, frustration, and bitter sadness. “You all think it’s so easy, don’t you? Being happy. Being in love. Everywhere I look, there are couples. Holding hands, kissing, confessing, smiling… while I’m always alone. I organize everything, I help everyone, I work harder than anyone… and nobody ever looks at me. Nobody ever likes me back.”
He gestured wildly, his voice cracking. “I just wanted… I just wanted everyone to feel what I feel. That loneliness. That disappointment. If I couldn’t be happy, why should they be? So I became the Breather. I ruined their moments. I made them feel… just a little bit of what I feel every day.”
The room was quiet. No one laughed. No one cheered. They just looked at him with understanding and pity.
Phuwin stood up slowly, extending a hand to help Not up. “You didn’t hurt anyone, Not. You didn’t break anything. You just… acted out of pain. But you know… ruining someone else’s happiness never fixes your own.”
Not took the hand, standing up, head bowed. “I know. I know that now.”
The tension in the room dissolved. The music started up again, softer this time, sweeter. Students began to talk, to laugh, to move on. The mystery was solved. The Breather was unmasked.
Pond turned to Phuwin, his face lit up by the lights, his eyes shining. He stepped closer, taking Phuwin’s hands in his own.
“It’s over,” Pond said, smiling. “The chaos is done. No more pranks. No more mystery. Just… us.”
He pulled Phuwin gently toward him, back into the center of the room, away from the crowd. “And now… since there’s no more investigation… no more distractions… can I finally do what I’ve been wanting to do for months?”
Phuwin looked up at him, his heart full, his eyes bright. He had been through chaos, mystery, fear, and laughter. He had learned that order wasn’t everything, that logic couldn’t explain everything, and that love was worth every risk.
He smiled, a real, bright, open smile. “Yes. Please.”
Pond leaned down, his hands coming to rest on Phuwin’s waist, pulling him close. Phuwin stood on his tiptoes, wrapping his arms around Pond’s neck.
They were surrounded by friends, by lights, by music. The crowd cheered, happy for them, happy that the story had a happy ending.
Pond’s lips brushed against Phuwin’s, soft and warm.
And then—
Phuwin’s eyes snapped open.
---
White. Everything was white.
Phuwin blinked rapidly, trying to clear the fog from his vision. The soft, melodic music of the ballroom was gone, replaced by the steady, rhythmic beeping of a machine. The scent of flowers and perfume had been replaced by the clean, sterile smell of antiseptic and fresh linen.
He tried to move, but his body felt heavy, slow, as if he were moving through thick water. He looked down at his arm and saw a thin tube connected to an IV drip, hanging from a metal stand beside the bed.
A hospital bed.
He was in a hospital room.
Phuwin frowned, trying to remember how he got here. The last thing he recalled was sitting in the Student Council office, going over budget reports, feeling incredibly hot, incredibly cold, and incredibly tired. He remembered his vision blurring, the words on the paper swimming together, and then… nothing.
Then, a soft voice spoke from beside him.
“Hey. You’re awake.”
Phuwin turned his head slowly to the side. Sitting in the chair right next to his bed, leaning forward with worry etched deep into his face, was Pond.
Pond was wearing simple clothes, no suit, no mask, just his usual comfortable shirt and jeans. There were dark circles under his eyes, his hair was messy, and he was holding a small, damp towel in one hand.
Phuwin stared at him, confused. “Pond… what… where are we? What happened to… the elephant? The Breather? The masquerade ball?”
Pond’s expression shifted from worry to confusion, then to a soft, amused tenderness. He reached out, placing the back of his hand gently against Phuwin’s forehead, checking his temperature.
“Still a little warm,” Pond murmured. Then, louder, he said, “Phuwin… you’ve been asleep for three days. You collapsed during the meeting. You have a severe case of seasonal flu—high fever, body aches, the works. The doctors said it was bad enough that you’d probably have very vivid dreams. Nightmares or… adventures.”
Phuwin froze.
The Breather… the giant paperclips… the durian prank… the baby powder… Uncle Nuea… Not… the masquerade ball… the dance… the kiss…
It had all been a dream.
A massive, elaborate, incredibly detailed fever dream.
Phuwin felt his face turn bright red—hotter than the fever itself. He buried his face in the pillow, groaning loudly. “Oh my god. Oh no. I dreamed… I dreamed the entire campus was terrorized by a prankster in an elephant suit who ruined romantic moments. And I was the detective. And you… you were… you were….”
He stopped, unable to say it out loud. In his dream, Pond had been his devoted bodyguard, his partner, the person who loved him, who held him, who danced with him, who was about to kiss him.
Pond chuckled softly, the sound warm and close. He reached out, brushing a strand of hair away from Phuwin’s damp forehead. “I was… what? Your handsome assistant? Your knight in shining armor? The love of your life?”
Phuwin peeked out from the pillow, his face burning. “You… you were being very nice to me. Too nice. And I… I let you.”
Pond’s smile softened, his eyes sparkling with something deep and happy. He squeezed Phuwin’s hand—the same hand he had held so many times in the dream, but this time, it was real. Solid. Warm.
“You were muttering in your sleep, you know,” Pond said quietly. “Mostly numbers and words I didn’t understand… ‘paperclips’, ‘stinky tofu’, ‘elephant head’… but sometimes… you said my name. Over and over. You sounded worried. And then… you sounded happy.”
Phuwin looked up at him, his heart racing just like it had in the dream. “I… I did?”
“Mm-hmm.” Pond leaned his elbows on the edge of the bed, resting his chin on his hands, looking at Phuwin with that same soft, adoring expression from the dream. “So… tell me. In this dream of yours… was I the hero? Did I save the day? Did I… take good care of you?”
Phuwin looked at him—really looked at him. He realized then that even though the mystery, the pranks, and the elephant were all made up… the feelings were real. His subconscious hadn’t invented Pond’s affection. It had only amplified what was already there. It had given him the courage to feel what he had been hiding all along.
He had dreamed of Pond protecting him, staying by his side, loving him… because deep down, that was exactly what he wanted. That was exactly what he hoped for.
He took a deep breath, gathering all the courage he could find—more than he had needed to face a mascot, more than he had needed to solve a mystery.
“In the dream,” Phuwin said, his voice soft but clear, “you were… perfect. You were funny, and kind, and you never left my side. You helped me even when I was stubborn and difficult. And… you liked me. You told me so.”
Pond’s eyes widened slightly, then crinkled at the corners as his smile grew brighter, happier than Phuwin had ever seen it.
“And did you like me back?” Pond asked, barely a whisper.
Phuwin sat up slowly, ignoring the slight dizziness, ignoring the IV line, ignoring everything except the boy in front of him. He reached out with his free hand, touching Pond’s cheek, feeling the warmth of his skin, the reality of him.
“In the dream… I did,” Phuwin admitted, his face pink but his eyes steady. “And… I think… maybe… I do in real life, too.”
Pond let out a breath he seemed to have been holding for months. He leaned into Phuwin’s touch, covering Phuwin’s hand with his own.
“Thank goodness,” Pond said, laughing softly, his voice thick with emotion. “Because I’ve been waiting for you to realize that for a very long time. I’ve been right here, Phuwin. Just like in your dream. I’ve been yours all along.”
Phuwin smiled, a genuine, bright, happy smile. The fever was breaking. The confusion was gone. And in its place was clarity.
He pulled Pond closer, until their foreheads touched, until there was no space left between them.
“So… no elephant suit?” Phuwin asked, teasing softly.
Pond shook his head, grinning. “No elephant suit. No pranks. No Heartbreak Count. Just… me. And you. And whatever we want to be.”
“Good,” Phuwin whispered. “Because I prefer this version.”
He closed his eyes, leaned up, and pressed his lips to Pond’s.
It wasn’t a dream this time. It was real. It was soft, sweet, and full of all the feelings they had been hiding, all the moments they had missed, all the future they were about to have.
Outside the hospital window, the sun was shining bright. Somewhere far away, a heavy breath might have echoed in the wind, but neither of them heard it. They were too busy holding onto each other, finally, perfectly, happily together.
And this time, there was no wake-up call. This was the happy ending.