Chapter Text
There is only him and the junior assistant his manager sent upon JJ's request. And Net is thankful for that, because he doesn't have to talk; the assistant is busy scrolling on social media. With his head splitting in two, the migraine doesn't seem to lessen even if he took a painkiller earlier. That's what he gets for drinking and staying up late.
Net can already hear JJ's grumpy voice saying, 'I told you so'. And that's if he wants to speak to him in the first place. Something tells Net it's not going to be easy, so he's already thought of what cakes JJ will enjoy this time. Might as well buy a whole bakery.
Net immediately schools his expression when the assistant stares at him curiously. What can Net do if he can't help but smile just thinking of his onscreen partner? Is Net on JJ's mind now as well? Judging by the forty-seven missed calls Net received from him earlier, he must be occupying all of his thoughts, too. Net knows he messed up, but making up will be even sweeter. Sulking JJ is a sight to see, and Net is the only one who gets to experience it.
"Don't mind me, just thinking of Ju, as always," Net shrugs and hides his smile as he looks at the busy city out the window.
He doesn't notice how the staff frowns and says in a low voice, 'Who is Ju?'
Their company building (if you can call it that) is full of other fellow actors. Net greets them with a smile despite wanting to drop to the ground right there and then to get some sleep, even fifteen minutes sound like heaven. From what he can barely recall, they're supposed to have a quick meeting regarding their future activities, him and JJ. He must already be in the meeting room by now.
As Net enters the said room, a sheepish grin plastered all over his face, only empty seats are there to welcome him. He looks at his phone. No, he's not early nor is he late - right on time, in fact (a rare occasion). Scanning the surroundings, as though JJ hid somewhere near, Net stands, bewildered, hand still on the doorknob.
Right when he's about to text JJ, a staff member enters.
"Khun Net? The photographer is waiting for you."
"But we don't have a photoshoot scheduled for today. I checked," Net replies.
"We? Khun Net, it's only you this time. I think we need to go, let me show you the way."
Net wants to say he knows the way, but it's not the point right now. He's sure of his schedule; he checks it almost every two or three hours like crazy, afraid he misses something minuscule. And where is JJ? Wasn't he supposed to be here?
Not knowing what to even do, he cluelessly follows the staff member. The tiny studio is only about twenty steps away from the meeting room, so Net decides he might as well see what's going on. Perhaps there was a slight change and their manager forgot to inform them on time. It seldom happens, but happens nonetheless. If it weren't for his headache, he would've asked a few follow-up questions. Net leaves it for later.
JJ is not in the studio either. When they drag him towards a vanity where the make-up artist patiently waits, Net finally concludes enough is enough.
"Does JJ know about this? Have you contacted him? I'm sure he's somewhere in the building. I'd like to start the work when he's here. May I?"
Net looks at the door, waiting for it to slam open and for JJ to walk in.
Both the makeup artist and the photographer exchange confused glances, eyebrows raised slightly.
"I'm sorry, who is, uh, Khun JJ?"
It's a question Net would've never predicted to hear. The two employees are not new, they've been in Domundi for at least two years, if not longer. Just yesterday, they talked to JJ about the looks he'd like to experiment with.
"What? Who is JJ? JJ Radchapon, my partner," retorts Net, stepping back. "Is this a prank? JJ, you can come out now."
No one pops out, laughing and pointing a camera at his face. The only sound is the AC, running at full power, blasting at the three very baffled individuals.
"You know what," Net sighs as he waves his hand, "let me call him."
Net opens up his Line, finger instinctively going to the top where he has JJ pinned as his first contact, but instead of the chat he needs, a profile of his brother stares back at him.
"What the hell?" Net exhales out loud before scrolling down, eyes scanning the pixels and looking for the familiar profile picture. No sign of JJ. Typing the name into the search bar is fruitless too. Net calls his number, which he memorized by heart. When the annoying voice informs him that the said number doesn't exist, Net looks up from his screen at the employees, who have an indecipherable expression on their faces.
"Khun Net, are you feeling alright? You seem quite tired. Would you like some water or coffee?"
Net shakes his head before sprinting out the door. If it's a prank and someone took his phone without him noticing to make all the changes, it's not funny.
Net is not having fun.
And he's sure JJ isn't in on it. He's not the kind of person to do that. Teasing and joking - yes, but not something elaborate and mean like this. He even checked all the corners in the hallway he's in for any hidden cameras. So far, everything is in place, nothing out of the ordinary, except for JJ's absence, which is not acceptable. Not in the slightest.
His feet drag him towards the director's office. Net hopes Aof is there. Knocking once softly and then twice with more power until Net hears the director's voice letting him in.
It takes Aof only a fraction of a second to tell something's not right all by looking at Net's face.
"Net?" he shoots up from his chair, closing his laptop. "What's wrong?"
"Phi, where's JJ? He's supposed to be here. Everyone is acting so lost. On top of that, someone deleted his contact off my phone. I'm worried. Is this something for a hidden camera show? A prank video?"
Net purses his lips into a thin line, arms crossed over his chest. He awaits Aof's answer, but the only thing he gets is the same confused and almost concerned look.
"Who are you talking about? Can you repeat their name?"
"JJ Radchapon Phornpinit, an actor under Domundi, my official onscreen partner. You just had a conversation with him the other day!"
"I don't- I don't recall anyone with that name." Aof scratches his neck, eyes looking up as if trying to remember, but to no avail.
Letting out an audible sigh, Net opens the photo gallery on his phone. He can't believe he has to go through this right after the busiest nights of the year. JJ was right, he shouldn't have partied too long. Today's bizarre situation doesn't go so well paired with his headache.
His thumb freezes above the screen. It can't be, it's impossible. There's no trace of JJ in any of the photos. Every selfie they took together, every candid shot of JJ smiling, eating, pouting, going about his daily life, is gone; everything is gone. Net scrolls as far as 2024, when he met JJ, when they were made official. Still, nothing. There are only his own photos, of his friends, family and cats. No videos of him and JJ saved, not a single piece of evidence of his partner's existence.
"Er, Net?" Calls him Aof, he too holding his phone, screen pointed towards Net. "Are you sure you got the name right? I don't think you did. There's nothing about him on the internet, look."
Net slowly pulls Aof by hand so that he can take a closer look. Unfortunately, his director is correct. Nothing shows up on the searches. Not a single article, not a single page. Just a typical suggestion asking if they meant to type a different name. Letting go of his hand, Net leans back on a wall, legs almost giving out. He scrunches his face so hard black spots swim in his vision.
In his peripheral, Net sees how worried the director looks by the way he fidgets with his fingers. So… not a prank after all.
"You know, if you're feeling unwell," Aof speaks up after several minutes of complete silence and nods reassuringly as Net lifts his head, eyes pointed at him, "or, like, feeling under the weather, we can cancel the photoshoot and schedule it for another day, how about that? You can go home right away and take some rest."
Ever since Net was a kid, everyone praised him for always pushing his limits, despite various obstacles. Even while sick, he never skipped classes. The same applied to his work. JJ and he got scolded on multiple occasions for not disclosing their condition so that the company wouldn't cancel events.
But today of all days is different.
"Sounds good," a sign leaves Net's pursed lips. "Thank you, Phi."
Yet when Net arrives home, dizzy and on the verge of passing out, he doesn't indulge in a tasty meal nor does he go to sleep. He spends hours searching for JJ on every platform possible, even on employment websites. All the efforts prove to be useless.
Upon asking his parents whether they know JJ or not and receiving blank expressions all over again, Net begins to feel the grip of hopelessness slowly tightening on him like a noose.
The sun sets and the long-awaited night casts its shadows on the city. The street lamps don't let them overtake their turf entirely, but it's calmer than during the day, which is too lively and busy for Net, that is.
When the outside seems dark enough, Net drives his car to the place he frequents almost on a daily basis. The place he tends to call his second home in his mind, never daring to say it out loud. He has left so many clothes there, some by accident and some on purpose. The thought of not finding JJ is at the back of his mind, sitting there, poisoning all the good memories. It's bitter, so he tries to shoo it away as much as he's able to. Though it refuses to let him go completely.
The building doesn't catch Net's attention at first, unfamiliar to the eye. But he hits the brakes as the realization dawns on him. Instead of a cozy residential building, there pierces the sky a whole new one, and judging by the façade, it's an office complex. Net takes a double look around the neighborhood. No, he's not wrong. Yes, he remembers the address and the exact route from his house to JJ's like the back of his hand. Net could drive here with his eyes closed.
Getting out of the car is useless, so he just stays parked next to the building he's seeing for the first time, head rested on a steering wheel.
Thousands of possibilities and theories dance across his mind, and none make sense. Nothing makes sense. Fingers gripping the wheel until they redden, Net drives off.
The sunrise hasn't greeted anyone yet, but Net is already at their company office, walking back and forth from one corner of a hallway to another. His footsteps echo lonely to the rhythm of his unrested heartbeat. As soon as he notices someone entering the building, he pulls out a sticky note from the pocket of his pants and turns towards the entrance.
"Good morning, Phi! Good morning, Nong!" Net shows them the note, voice giving away his desperation. "You know JJ, right? You've just seen him recently; you know him? JJ Radchapon?"
An actor after actor, an employee after employee, Net asks every single person who arrives at the office. Each of his questions faces perplexed stares, furrowed brows, and helpless shrugs. By the twenty-sixth person, Net's resolve suffers damage, cracks unhurriedly making their way to the center.
"Aren't you supposed to take a rest today?" asks Latte, squinting his eyes at the sticky note Net holds up to his face way too close. "Did you draw this?"
Net nods as he places it in his phone case, gently as ever. He doesn't even know himself which question he's nodding to. Everything takes a blurry form.
"Yeah, not an artist, are you? This looks like any other person. This could even be me, P'Net. And who's that JJ you're going on about? P'Kim said you asked him the same thing. Now I'm really curious."
Taking a seat on a nearby surface, which happens to be the floor, Net buries his head in his palms. He wants to scream, to cry and laugh at the same time.
"Out of all people, why him?" Net whispers.
Looking around as if they're sharing a secret, Latte pats him on the shoulder twice before awkwardly plopping down beside him.
"Does he even exist?" Latte pulls out his laptop from his backpack and types the name in a browser.
"Already tried, no luck there."
Latte rubs his chin, switching from one tab to another. He looks through the records of several universities in Thailand.
"What if you, let's say, dreamt about him and now you're just confusing it with the actual reality? I've heard it happens sometimes. I've had a dream one time that made me question my whole existence and…"
Net lets him ramble on. At least hearing Latte's voice makes his inner one sound quieter, still audible, but muffled. He draws circles on the floor with his fingernails, not minding the dust. Latte notices how he's not listening anymore, but continues his monologue, sensing it's what Net might need at the moment.
That day, Net returns home even more tired than before, thoughts all jumbled and foggy to detangle.
Only when he rests his head upon a pillow does he remember to check the series he acted in along with JJ. He learns that all the series they performed as a couple have other actors in their stead. What stings is that Love Upon A Time got canceled entirely as they couldn't find the right person for Nakhun's role. Or maybe it's good, because it only proves that no one could take the role except for JJ himself. Only him, his JJ.
Upon checking his own filmography, Net releases a huge sigh of relief. He doesn't have an onscreen partner. That would have been another huge blow otherwise. Even if Net had one, he'd probably terminate the contract right away. No one could replace JJ. But does JJ exist in this weird alternative universe in the first place? Can he even call it that? Headache returns like a tide.
Net breaks on the fourth day. The short recess Net managed to get prior did nothing beneficial for his condition. Despite that, Net is called for a meeting he knows nothing of. Taking a quick shower and putting on whatever clothes he finds lying across the furniture, Net sets foot to the company building. Thankfully, it's not busy today, so he sneaks into the meeting room unnoticed.
As Net makes eye contact with his manager, the guilt rises and stirs in him unpleasantly. Just yesterday, Net got an email from her explaining his schedule for the upcoming month and he didn't even open the document, didn't reply.
"As per my email," the manager struggles with lifting a huge stack of papers and drops it on a table in front of him. It lands with a loud thud. "These are all screenplays and offers for you. Please review each one and choose the four best you're most interested in. I'll leave you to that. You've got time until lunch. Think you can go through them all?"
"Am I that in demand in this universe?" Net says under his breath, taken aback by the sheer quantity.
When the manager arches her eyebrow at him, Net just waves it off, taking a screenplay from the top.
"I'll try."
She nods and walks out of the room, and perhaps it's for the best. Net prefers to be left alone right now.
Flipping the pages of the first one and then many others, Net's heart sinks further and further down. There is only one role offered in all the screenplays, only for Net Siraphop Manithikhun. Some of them are worth his attention, ranging from intense action to sitcoms and comedy. Yet, as soon as he reads just his own name, he immediately shoves it away. Net is done with the stack in a matter of minutes. His fingers are pulsating from the paper cuts he earned absentmindedly going through the papers.
If JJ were here, he would've gently taken his hands into his own and tended to his wounds, while pouting and concentrating on doing it as softly as possible. Net's fingers would've been covered in cute band-aids with drawn animals (mainly capybaras) printed on them. Net wants to hear JJ scolding him for being clumsy and careless when it comes to himself. Wants to see the sulking expression morphing into a happy one once Net promises to be more mindful next time.
But now as he turns to his right, there's only an empty chair. Net grits his teeth; if he lets himself go, he's not sure he'd be able to stop. His forehead hits the table, arms covering his head as though he wishes to hide from the merciless world. Fate has played a cruel joke on him.
Net doesn't know how long he's been asleep for, but judging by a takeout bag, it must be around noon. Quickly wiping away the drool off his chin, Net gets on his feet.
"I've brought you food. I called you, but you didn't answer, so I just grabbed a few items. You can pick." The manager gestures at the bag.
"I'm ok, thanks. You should ask Juju what he wants, he-" Net catches himself this time.
"Juju? Is that infamous person you've been obsessed with lately? You asked everyone in Domundi about him. Who is he?"
Net simply shakes his head. It's pointless. No one remembers JJ, no one knows JJ.
"Never mind. Did you make a decision?" She gathers the screenplays scattered across the table.
"Can I let you know this evening? I don't feel good. I'll head out."
"Fine. Also, could you take a peek at the schedule and confirm it with me? I have a deadline for that as well, please try to understand me."
"Noted." Net avoids his eyes. "See you tomorrow."
The sunset outside the window of his bedroom used to catch his attention almost every evening, and he'd sit beside it, mesmerized by the view.
When the door shuts behind his back, Net doesn't spare a single glance at it, posture slouched and eyes downcast. He drops his bag beside a dresser on the floor. It lands rather hard and some of the items inside must be broken already, judging by the sound. But he doesn't care.
Even the sight of an empty couch makes his breath hitch. Usually, it has always been drowned by capybara and bunny plushies. No JookKroo and carrots on it either now. Shutting his eyes as tight as possible until tearducts start working and it begins hurting doesn't help. Alas, it's not something he can snap out of.
Is this it then? No waking up in sweat and fear while being thankful it was just another of those long and realistic nightmares. Up until this point, denying everything has helped; believing it must be all in his messed-up head and he just needs to wait was a sliver of hope Net pathetically clung to. And now, the terror replaces it.
Net takes a deep breath through his nose, but when it doesn't fill his lungs fully, he resorts to inhaling through his mouth.
The sun has already hidden below the horizon's line, no longer painting the bedroom red. Yet, Net stands still in the middle of it, gaze set into the distance. In this world, there's no JJ to paint Net's life in orange hues.
"I should've told him." He clenches his fists, nails digging into the tender skin.
Net sinks to the floor and his knees hit it painfully. A laughter engulfs the space, uncomfortably echoing off the walls. Hugging himself, Net lowers his head down until it barely touches the carpet. He harshly slaps a hand over his mouth to muffle himself, to stop whatever sounds are coming out of his throat. But it does nothing. The skin under his fingers turns purple, almost bluish. Only when there's no air left in his chest does the laughter subside. Net pants.
In his peripheral vision, he catches something blue sticking out of the wardrobe. Net knows what it is. He wishes he didn't. He wishes he didn't see it at all. It does not belong here, it's not supposed to be here. It takes all the strength in him to arise and walk over to the wardrobe. Its door opens with a creak. Net's hand reaches for the material. It's soft under his fingertips. He bites his quivering lower lip, not minding the sting.
It's the blue shirt Net gave to JJ on Songkran, and it ended up being JJ's shirt without him noticing. Or at least, Net pretended not to notice and didn't ask for it to be returned either. JJ looked so small in it. The shirt's place is at JJ's house, its place is on JJ, not here in his wardrobe.
Net pulls it off the hanger and buries his face in it, seeking the traces of JJ's scent, but it smells only of his own cologne.
For the first time in this cursed world he's been in for a few days, Net lets his tears fall and stain the shirt.
In the middle of the night, Net responds to his manager's email. The schedule for the next month is open on a separate tab, but Net doesn't want to look at it for the second time. All the slots are filled only with his name and photo. Only him. And no matter how many times he stares at it, refreshing the page, to the point of his eyes getting irritated without blinking, it won't magically make JJ appear on it.
Net's aware that when she reads his reply in the morning, it's going to cause some issues for the stakeholders involved. The guilt that Net would usually feel if such a force majeure occurred is not present this time. Not even a pinch of it.
He falls asleep at last. When the sunrise bleeds through the clouds, JJ's shirt is clutched to his chest, over his heart.