Archive of Our Own

The problem, or at least the obvious problem, is that it takes Gun an appallingly long time to notice when people are into him. The worst time was when Pompam, of all people, leaned over from the chair where he was getting his makeup done to point out that the new PA had it so bad for Gun that he’d dropped coffee twice. It was embarrassing to have a senior comment on something like that, but what was more embarrassing was the way Gun had said “Really?” and whipped his head around.

The PA, Own, was already looking at Gun and when they made eye contact, he blushed. Huh. Gun knew himself too well to deny that it was flattering, and that the flattery drew him in. They fooled around for a while, and then Gun went to go film a movie. They still message sometimes.

The less obvious problem is that when he does notice on his own, it’s because there are signs not even he can miss.

The way that Off is looking at him, for example.

They’re waiting in a hallway while the set dec team is making some minor tweaks to the ‘Third’s Room’ set to show the passage of time. It’s a long day, not abnormally long for a filming day, but they’re six hours into a probable twelve hours. Gun is leaning against the wall, feet planted a foot out and both shoulderblades pressed against it. He wants to rub his head against the wall but he knows better than to mess up his hair so he distracts himself by humming. He’s got some song in his head. He can’t figure out what it is, can’t remember any words, but he knows the hook so he keeps humming it.

He turns to ask Off if he recognises it and Off is closer than he should be. That’s the first thing. He’s perpendicular to Gun, and their shoulders are almost touching. Off is looking down at Gun, eyes focused entirely on Gun’s face. Gun’s breath catches. If Gun tipped his head up, they’d be—

Gun knows this look.

This is a problem.

Gun carries on like it’s normal. He doesn’t move, doesn’t react. He asks Off about the song, and when Off says he doesn’t recognise it, he pretends to be frustrated. “Papii, you have to know,” Gun says, “You know all the songs.”

A small smile plays at the corner of Off’s mouth. “Not this one.”

The day ends up being fourteen hours and Off and Gun catch a ride with crew on the way home because none of them are fit to drive. Gun knows he needs to sleep. They have a six a.m. call time, he needs the rest or he won’t remember his lines. But he also needs to figure out what to do.

A younger, more naive Gun would try to ignore it. Act normal, and hope it goes away when Off realises that Gun isn’t giving him anything.

But he is not a younger, more naive Gun, and it never works that way.

It works like this: Gun ignores it and ignores it and ignores it and eventually there’s a moment, sometimes sudden, sometimes agonising in its progress, where the glitter of interest and affection turns hard and brittle and angry. The wanting, left unfulfilled, calcifies.

He could tell Off he’s not interested, but first of all, Off never said he was, so if Gun does a direct rejection, odds are good that Off will take it badly and pretend he never was in the first place. Right now Off is into Gun. If Gun embarrasses him about it, then he’ll be into Gun and resenting it, which is the exactly problem Gun wants to avoid. And secondly is that Gun would be rejecting Off. He can’t do that. That’s not who they are to each other.

What Gun would like to say to Off is: I see the way you’re looking at me. I don’t know what’s caused it—maybe you’re a little too in character or we spend too much time together and you’ve gotten used to the way I smell. He could maybe say that, but Off would be embarrassed, might get defensive. People don’t like it when their feelings are exposed. It wouldn’t put Off in the right headspace. And he definitely can’t say to Off what he thinks they should do about it, which is get it out of his system.

He doesn’t mean it in a bad way. Who hasn’t gotten into a coworker? They’re all spending long hours together, and they’re all attractive people, they’re bound to start having thoughts and imaginings. Off’s caught a little bit of inconvenient attraction. It happens. It only becomes a serious problem if it’s allowed to spiral. If he ignores it, the toxin of Off’s attraction to build up between them until it poisons them. The thought of Off deciding he can’t be near Gun makes his stomach go hard and cold. They’ve been there before. It’s taken them so much work to get them to where they are. Gun can’t waste that.

They need to drain this feeling while they still can.

***

The next day Off comes up to him. “It’s Wonderframe,” he says.

Gun smiles at him, not understanding.

Off clarifies. “The song from yesterday. I figured it out. It’s by Wonderframe.” Off pulls out his phone and plays a bit.

“Oh! Yeah!” Gun says, listening. He hums along. “I must have heard it when I was out last week.”

Off smiles at him, just a little too soft for normal. Gun likes how it looks on him, and thinks he couldn’t bear it if resentment turned the smile sour. So he asks, “What are you doing Wednesday?” Their schedule is three dailys filming, two for prep, one day for rehearsal. Wednesday is a prep day and they aren’t required.

Off thinks about it. “No plans.”

“Can I come over?” Gun gives Off a pleading smile. “We can watch a series?”

It would be alarming how fast Off agrees if Gun hadn’t been banking on it.

***

Honestly, Gun’s not great at seducing people. He’s never gone after someone who didn’t want him first. Generally, he signals that he’s seen their interest and is available and that’s usually enough.

Which means he doesn’t have moves so much as a strategy, because a lot of guys get shy if he says that directly. Not all of them, some he can walk up to, put a finger in their belt loop and say ‘I saw you watching me, do you want to go somewhere?’ and they say yes. Gun knows Off, though, and he’s sure that’s not going to work here.

Gun picks out his outfit carefully. On one of his racks of clothes, tucked behind all of the things he’d wear out, and behind the piles of new things, are the clothes he doesn’t wear anymore, not since he figured out his personal style. Nowadays he can sum up his look as ‘expensive, on-trend, youthful.’ It’s oversized shirts, but branded, and designer sandals.

For tonight he pulls out a fitted white t-shirt and cut-off jean shorts. The shorts are tight enough that he can’t tuck the shirt in, which is fine, because the shirt is short enough that the hem isn’t much past the button on his jeans. He checks himself in the mirror. He looks small, and sleek, and incredibly gay.

Gun sees Off react to it and he knows he’s picked well. Off opens the door and pauses. His eyes flick from Gun’s neck, to where his collarbone stretches his shirt, down to the cuffs of his shorts, before flicking back up to his face. Off swallows. Gun smiles and steps inside. He turns and bends down to take off his shoes, looking back over his shoulder to make sure Off is watching.

That’s good, but also not. This was Gun’s last check in case he was wrong and had misinterpreted the look Off gave him. But this feels pretty definitive. When did this happen? It feels like it came out of nowhere. He wants to ask the people around them if they saw it, but he’s afraid they’d tell him.

Well. Doesn’t matter when it started, he’s going to fix it.

He walks to Off’s couch. Off is still standing by the door so Gun raises his eyebrows at him. It’s so like what he’d do if Off missed a cue at a stage show that it almost pulls Gun off of his plan and back into the groove of what is comfortable and familiar. The goal is to not act like he normally would.

Off jerks into motion and comes over. “Do you want a drink?” Gun thinks about it, then shakes his head. Off tilts his head. “Are you going out after?” A reasonable assumption.

“Maybe,” Gun says. He’s left his night aside from this; it all depends on what Off wants to do after.

They’re still standing next to the couch.

Gun thinks, might as well. This is as good a moment as any.

He steps closer to Off, not touching, just in case. Looks up at him. He thinks about it and lets it show. Off is close to him; and closer and Gun would feel the warmth of his body. Closer, and he could touch Gun’s neck and his fingers would be soft, soft enough to tickle. If Off leaned in, Gun could lean up and they could kiss. On his tiptoes, Gun’s ass would be at Off’s hand level and in these shorts it would be trivial for Off to slide his fingers below the hem. Off has touched him there before, but never on his skin. Gun lets himself imagine it, lets himself want it like he never ever has.

This is the truth about acting that his non-actor friends don’t get. Acting isn’t about pretending. Acting is about letting the truth of the feeling shine through. Gun’s truth of this moment is: I’m available, you can have me; it would be easy.

“Hey,” Gun says.

He can see the moment Off gets it. Gun’s never looked at Off like this before, but Off has seen it.

Back when they first realised that OffGun was going to be a thing, Off had struggled a lot. They talked about it and worked it out, but Gun eventually prised out of Off that one of his problems was that he was worried that he’d give Gun the wrong idea and that Gun would go after him for real. They spent a lot of time flirting for the crowd, after all. Gun had thought, fair enough; if Off couldn’t tell what real flirting looked like on Gun, Gun could show him.

It took a bit, but when they were out next with Gun’s boyfriend at the time, Gun let himself be a little less polite to the public and a little more real. Tay was surprised at first, when Gun plastered himself against Tay’s side and played with the fine hair on his arms, but when they made eye contact and Tay saw the look there, he only swallowed and pulled Gun closer. It was nice. They spent the evening like that, veering in and out of each other’s orbits, letting themselves look for as long as they wanted to when they did, glances that were just the two of them and didn’t admit anyone else. And at the end of the night, Gun had risked looking at Off and saw a calculating expression there.

Things were better after that. And Tay got to put his hand in Gun’s back pocket when they were standing around, so there were a lot of wins.

So Off knows this look, he knows the context, he knows the meaning. Off swallows.

Gun takes the risk of putting his arms around Off’s neck. That seems to be the breaking point.

Off wraps his arms around Gun’s body and pulls them flush while he leans down for the kiss. Gun goes all the way up on his tiptoes to reach it. He’s barely balanced on them, and if Off let go, he wouldn’t be stable.

Kissing is familiar and new at the same time. Familiar because of the number of times they’ve practised, but entirely different because Gun isn’t thinking at all about what they look like. He’s not cheating a little to the left so he doesn’t cast a shadow. He’s not counting seconds to make sure they aren’t staying in one position too long and blowing their rating. He lets himself feel it. He nips at Off’s bottom lip, finding the edges of it with his teeth so he can get enough of a grip to pull it into his mouth. He flicks Off’s lip with his tongue as he sucks. Fuck, he loves having something in his mouth. He lets go and opens his mouth as a hint and is gratified when Off takes it, gripping Gun’s face with both hands so he can press their faces together and get his tongue inside. Gun hums.

It feels great, better than he expected, but pressed this close together he can’t really breathe and they have to split apart eventually. Gun doesn’t let go when he drops down to flat feet. But it wouldn’t matter even if he did because Off is clutching at him, hands roaming over Gun’s shoulders and down his spine.

On impulse, Gun kisses Off's neck, the same thing he's done a thousand times before. Off shudders. Gun shouldn't have done that; that's an outside thing and next time he does it he's going to be thinking about the way Off's eyes are heavy lidded and his lips are kiss bitten and that when Gun kissed his neck his whole body shook with it like Gun's lips connected him to a live wire.

Gun tries to tug them down to the couch. Off doesn’t let him.

He bites his lip.

Gun brought them to the couch because couches are great low pressure areas for makeouts and also in case Gun ended up on his knees sucking Off's dick, but Gun would totally be into doing this in a bed. Gun would love to be in a bed, if he can get it, if it’s not too much, and if Off wants it too. He doesn't know Off's fantasy here.

"Papii," he whispers. "What do you want?"

"Uh," Off says. His hair is all messed up. Gun did that to him. "This is nice?"

Gun resists the urge to stamp his foot. He gives Off a couple more kisses instead. "What else?"

"Whatever you—I don't—"

It's a little flattering to know that a couple of kisses from Gun turned Off from a guy who always has a comeback into someone who can't finish a sentence. But it’s not very helpful.

"If you tell me what you want, I can give it to you," Gun says, belatedly realising how dark his voice has gone when Off's fingers dig into his back.

Gun isn't sure Off will be able to say. Some guys can't. Gun has to pry it out of them. It’s generally a pretty reliable indicator of how good they’ll be in bed. People who are self-conscious or caught up in themselves are bad at sex, like they’re more worried about what someone will think of them than on feeling good.

Off takes a step back and his hands keep Gun in place. Off looks down at him, and Gun realises he just wanted to make eye contact. Gun looks at him expectantly. Off’s face looks weird, wider somehow and his eyes are bright. “We don’t have to go fast,” Off says.

Gun is nonplussed. “You don’t want…?” He’s pretty sure Off does. He’s almost certain he felt his dick against Gun’s thigh when they were kissing.

“I do,” Off says, immediate. “I really—you don’t know how much.” Off’s face scrunches up. Then tell me, Gun thinks. This whole conversation is very confusing. Gun is literally right here.

“Okay,” Gun says instead. “It’s alright.” Gun reaches up to rub a thumb between Off’s eyebrows. “Take your time, I’m not going anywhere.” That’s the whole point of this. Above anything, Gun is going to stay with Off. Something in there must be right because Off’s face relaxes. It makes Gun feel relaxed too, feel like himself enough to add, “unless it’s a bed.”

Off groans. “You’re going to be the end of me,” Off says and reaches down to scoop his hands around Gun’s ass. Gun squeaks. His shorts ride up and Gun can feel the tips of his fingers sneaking beneath them. “Up,” Off says, and Gun jumps instinctively—he knows Off can hold him.

He expects Off to dump him on the bed, but Off sits on the edge instead, with Gun in his lap. It’s honestly Gun’s preferred position because he gets to control the kissing. So he does. He puts his hands in Off’s hair and kneels up so it’s Off’s turn to tip his head back. Off’s hands drift up and down the back of Gun’s thighs.

“You can touch,” Gun says into Off’s mouth. Off makes an inquisitive noise so Gun shows him, reaching back to move Off’s hands to his ass. Gun places them, and Off gets it immediately, squeezing.

“Your ass,” Off says. Gun preens.

“You like it?” He knows the answer but he likes to be told.

Off laughs. “Baby, you know what you look like.”

Gun’s breath catches.

If Off is going to talk like that then Gun needs to be a lot more naked. “Can I…” he starts, fingers reaching for the hem of his shirt, and then worries. Is this what Off meant by too fast?

“Oh,” Off says, and takes his own shirt off. His skin is smooth. Gun reaches out to touch and feels fine hairs on Off’s chest. Off kisses him again, pinning Gun’s hand between them before leaning back onto his elbows to give Gun room.

Gun pulls his shirt off and throws it to the side and then sits back down on his haunches. It brings his ass in direct contact with Off’s dick. It’s hard. Gun grinds down.

“Fuck,” Off says. He grips Gun’s hips so when he pushes up Gun stays in place. Off’s fingers are hot on the skin above Gun’s waistband. They push and pull on each other, a mimickry of a fuck, but with Off lying down like this, Gun can’t reach him.

“Papii,” he whines, “kiss me.” Off surges back up and they rock together, skin on skin. Gun’s jeans are starting to hurt with how hard they’re being driven into his skin and he can’t imagine what it feels like for Off.

Off flips them and Gun scoots up the bed. He’d like to know if Off has something specific in mind. If Off wants to fuck, it really could go either way. Gun does know what he looks like and what that makes people want, but he also knows that guys who don’t often get with other guys can be desperate to get fucked. Gun gets that. Everyone is a top until they find out how good it feels.

Off only kisses Gun again, lying on his side so he can run his hand over Gun’s chest. Gun can’t do a ton in this position aside from try not to wriggle. Something that gets harder when Off pinches the thinner skin over his ribs. “Papii!” Off soothes the skin with a pet. “Come on, don’t you want—” he cuts himself off. He’s not going to push until he has a clue.

“What do you like?” Off asks. His mouth is red but his voice is even. Gun, who wants to set their clothes on fire with his eyes if it’ll get them more naked, feels like he took a wrong turn somewhere.

He makes a high, frustrated whine. It’s not charming. Off laughs again, and pecks Gun’s mouth.

“Are you being shy?” Off asks, and he’s teasing, which is unfair. “I didn’t expect that.” Which meant he expected something, that he’d been thinking about what Gun would be like. Of course he did, he’d looked at Gun with intent. That intent had to come from somewhere. Off kisses him again and Gun burns. His lips are starting to get sensitive, but it’s more from the way Off seems to be so himself.

Gun pulls his head away, lip catching on Off’s teeth. “What did you expect?”

Off’s eyes are still on Gun’s lips. “I think I thought you’d point your finger in my face and go, ‘Papii, fuck me’ like when you want to go to another store at the mall and I’m tired.” Off’s imitation is uncanny. Gun can feel his face burning and wants to bury it.

“You should,” Gun says instead. Off hums a question as his fingers brush along Gun’s cheeks, cool on his heated cheeks. “Fuck me.”

Off’s eyes go dark. “Gun, Gun, can I?” Off asks, hands roaming all over and Gun doesn’t miss being called baby, not at all. He nods.

“Let me just…” He pushes back on Off’s chest until he can get out from under him. This was poor planning but he wasn’t expecting to get carried away—literally. Gun pads back into the main room and grabs his bag.

Gun drops his bag on the bed and takes the opportunity to take his shorts and underwear off. Off scrambles to do the same. Gun watches him. It’s not a sexy striptease by any length of the imagination, not with Off getting one foot caught in a pant leg and his ugly boxers that have the elastic starting to separate on them. But it’s Off, and Gun knows him. He knows those shitty boxers from changing backstage. And that’s Off’s dick, which he doesn’t know, but he’s going to. It looks good too, long and mostly hard, curving a little to the right. Gun’s mouth waters.

“Okay,” Gun says, and pulls out lube and condoms.

“I have lube,” Off says, gesturing at his bedside table.

Gun doesn’t put his faith in other people’s lube. Most times people have cheap stuff, or stuff more for jerking off. Gun has the good stuff, thick and water-based. “This is my favourite brand.”

Off’s eyes crinkle.

“What?” Gun asks.

“It’s you,” Off says.

Gun doesn’t know what to say to that. He kneels on the bed and slicks two fingers. His goal here is wetness. He did some initial preparation earlier but the thing about lube is that it always needs to be reapplied, like lipstick.

It’s Off’s turn to watch. Gun thinks about trying to make it a show, but frankly he doesn’t think this part is hot and he’s beyond being patient. “Get ready for me?” Gun manages to make it a request instead of an order. He might be being too bossy, but if he is Off doesn’t seem too turned off by it. Off cups his balls and rolls them gently. He’s not touching his dick which means Gun has an unobstructed view of the way Off’s dick fills in all the way, rounding out and stiffening.

“Yeah,” Gun says and licks his lips. He slides his fingers inside. It isn’t deep, so it’s more of a tease, nothing that satisfies the itch, but it’s satisfying because Gun knows it’s for a purpose. He transfers as much of the lube as he can and then pulls out, wiping his fingers on his thigh before grabbing a condom. Off’s dick jumps against his stomach when he does.

Gun crawls over to Off. There’s something in Off’s expression that makes Gun pause. “Hey,” Gun says.

“Gun,” Off says and traces one of Gun’s eyebrows with his thumb. “We don’t have to.”

They do though. Gun’s head and his dick are totally aligned on this. Gun takes Off’s hand off of his face, feeling the shape of his fingers. He doesn’t get to touch Off’s hands that much. They’re soft. Each knuckle feels round. “I need it,” Gun says, dragging Off’s hand down to his dick. He’s so hot there that Off’s hand feels cool. “Do you feel how much?”

Off groans, nodding.

Gun gets the condom out and rolls it down Off’s dick. He’s flagged, just a little, which is a pretty common reaction to the squeeze of the condom, but Gun needs him to be as hard as possible to make it easier to get him inside. So he ducks down, folding himself over to get Off in his mouth. He goes down as far as the angle will let him and is gratified to feel Off hit his throat. Gun swallows to feel him better. He loves this feeling, but he has a mission. So he works his other hand on Off’s balls because it seemed like he likes that and when Off’s dick springs against the top of his mouth when he flicks it with his tongue, he pulls off.

Off’s head is thrown back. He’s got his hands fisted in the blanket, which is a shame. Gun should have asked him to pull his hair. Off’s hips chase Gun’s mouth and Gun can relate; he didn’t want to stop either. But there’s a plan, something that Off said he wanted.

Gun goes to climb on top, but Off flips him, which makes Gun’s heart beat crazy fast. Fuck. He loves that, loves getting moved around. He gets between Gun’s legs, which spread happily.

“Lube,” Gun reminds him.

Off curses, flailing in the blanket for it. The sound of his wet hand on his dick is obscene.

Gun helpfully hooks his hand around the back of his knees so Off can use both hands to guide himself inside. Gun can’t help the whine he lets out when Off gets halfway in. It’s so good. He loves this feeling, loves the slide.

Off moves in him and Gun gasps. He drops his legs so he can dig his heels into the bed to push up into the thrusts.

“Does it feel good, baby?” Off asks.

Gun whines again. Off smiles at him. Gun doesn’t know what Off is talking about when he says his smile looks bad. It’s so bright and warm. Off keeps moving, steady and even and it sparks something in Gun’s chest. Gun makes grabbing hands, pulling Off down so he can kiss him. It drives Off a little deeper.

In this position Off can’t make his thrusts as long, but Gun doesn’t care about that, not when he can feel Off reaching so deep inside of him. They kiss, sloppy and uncoordinated as the space between them heats up.

Off thrusts in and stays there, grinding his hips. Gun throws his head back, breaking their kiss. Off presses wet kisses to his neck, along his jaw, and up to his ear. He pulls Gun’s ear between his lips and Gun feels like he was jolted by a livewire.

“Papii, fuck.”

“Yeah, baby, yeah. You’re so good, feel so good, sound so good, just like that.” The things Off says… it’s too much.

Gun needs to come. He’s fucking himself on Off’s cock as much as he can, little jerky twitches of his hips. He realises he’s been chanting “please, please, please.” He doesn’t even know what he’s asking for.

Off says, “I’ve got you,” and pushes forward until Gun’s knees are up at his ears and Off is driving down into him. Gun feels his eyes roll back in his head. On pure feel he reaches and grabs his dick, stripping it quickly, like he needs to chase an orgasm that’s trying to escape him.

“I’m going to come,” Off says.

“Please,” Gun says, like that’s the only word he knows. He wants Off to come, hopes Off comes first. He wants to see what he looks like when he does, wants to know it was him who made him feel that good. But it’s so hard to hold on. When Off is making sounds now, small and in the back of his throat, when he’s staring down at Gun like he can’t look away… Gun is only one man. He can’t take getting fucked this well and look at this much without shattering.

Luckily, he’s still holding it together with the skin of his teeth when Off’s hips stutter. Off thrusts into him a handful of times, one more. Gun lets go, vision whiting out when he comes.

When his eyes focus again, Off is lying next to him, stroking his arm. Gun blinks at him.

He can’t believe how good it was.

“I had no idea,” Gun says.

“I think that’s my line,” Off says. “I didn’t think you wanted this.”

Right. It’s all coming back to him. Off isn’t just his partner and apparently an incredible fuck. Gun needs to be careful here. “Well, I guess we were both surprised.”

***

When Gun wakes up, it’s morning. He tries to evaluate how well everything went. It’s tough to say. He didn’t do a great job focusing on Off, so he can’t be sure if Off got enough of what he needed. But he didn’t seem disappointed. And the sex, again, was phenomenal. Gun would do it again. Especially if he could suck Off properly.

He shifts a bit in the sheets.

Which is how he notices that Off has an arm thrown around him. Off’s warmed up to cuddling a lot but Gun still starts it most of the time. So he’s a little surprised. But people are different in bed; sex does something to the brain. Gun doesn’t really get why it does; shouldn’t feelings be feelings and touching be touching? But it does change things, so Gun respects that.

The other thing the arm means, aside from Off being a cuddler, is that Gun is awake first, which is unusual, but he usually goes to bed way later than Off does. Both of them are always behind on sleep with their schedules but Gun is the one who tries to catch up in the mornings as much as possible. Off has some internal clock that makes him get up before noon.

He should see what Off wants first, though. See: sex makes people weird. Slowly detangling and re-directing those sex feelings back into their normal friendship and working relationship is delicate. That makes it sound like he has a plan, which isn’t true. He wishes he had a plan with steps;what he has instead is practice and a track record that shows it can be done.

All he has to do is try and take cues from Off, and wait for Off to realise he’s experienced the entirety of what Gun can give. The full Gun experience, as it were.

Gun just has to be patient.

He lies there, looking at the white ceiling. The room is bright, light coming through the blinds. Off is so quiet while he sleeps. Gun could almost pretend he wasn’t there, except for the weight of his arm on Gun’s middle.

Gun exhales.

Gun looks around. The room is just as he remembers. He tries to see if his phone is within reach. No luck. It’s just out of reach on the bedside table.

He wiggles his toes.

It would be great if Off woke up soon.

But Off seems pretty content to keep sleeping. Unfortunately, Gun is so bored. Maybe if he stretched? He could catch his phone with his fingers?

He strains, arm going as far as it can. Nope. Well, maybe he can shift a bit. As carefully as he can, he slides toward the side of the bed. Off’s arm sticks to him as he moves, resisting until Gun puts enough force behind it and manages to slip just a little. He’s getting closer, but not quite close enough.

He shifts again and starts reaching, mustering every bit of strength to push his arm out as far as he can. When he finally gives it up, he’s breathing hard from the tension.

Well, this is the worst. If he had a bag the same dimensions as him, he could slide it under Off’s arm, dash to get his phone, and slide back. But he doesn’t have that and his phone is still stubbornly out of reach.

He sighs. He looks at Off… who is looking back at him. “How long have you been awake?” Gun demands, which is not the soft ‘good morning’ he’d meant to give.

“Not long,” Off says. “Long enough to watch you attempt the heist of the century, though.”

“Papii.” Gun pouts.

“Let me,” Off says, and reaches over Gun to grab his phone. Tall people have no idea what the world is like. He grabs it off of the side table and puts it in Gun’s hand, pausing to press a kiss to Gun’s temple before he settles back down.

So. Gun is pretty sure that this isn’t going to be a one-and-done. That’s fine, hadn’t Gun just thought about a second round?

Then his stomach rumbles.

“C’mon,” Off says. “Let’s get breakfast.”

***

It’s not a series filming day but Gun has a Talk with Toey interview and Off is doing a photoshoot for EST cola, so Gun takes a taxi back to his to get his contacts and pick out his clothes.

Gun’s on a video call with Arm when he gets a Line notification from Off:

What are you wearing? Sometimes Off asks when they have separate appearances so they can try not to look too matchy. It’s not their fault they like the same type of clothes, but it can seem a little coordinated. Gun drags the notif down to answer when he sees a follow-up 😉 and he bursts out laughing.

Arm’s slightly tinny voice squawks out of the speaker. “What! Why are you laughing?”

Still giggling, Gun says, “I’m not laughing at you, Papii sent me a message.”

“Say hi from me,” Arm says. “Oh, I have to go.” They say goodbye and end the call.

Arm says hi

Then Gun takes a pic and captions: Sexy Balenciaga 🙄

It’s a long-sleeved oversized t-shirt and dark pants, it’s nothing special even with a couple of accessories.

Looks good

It’s time for Gun to go onstage, so he doesn’t reply, but his heart feels warm. This is nice, and fine. They often message.

***

They’re back on set the next day. It’s some university scenes so they get to hang out with the gang. The sun is barely up, and Gun is barely out of makeup when White comes barrelling up to him.

“Did you hear the new Blackpink song?” he demands, already holding out his phone.

Everyone with taste likes Blackpink but Gun does think it’s funny how much White does. Gun likes to dance, but no one likes to dance as much as White does when Blackpink comes on.

“No,” Gun says, and makes grabby hands. White puts one airpod in Gun’s ear and keeps the other for himself, angling the screen so they can both see it if they get close. White puts both of his arms around Gun to make it easier their second playthrough.

“Is this their best song?” White whispers so it doesn’t distract from the music.

Gun cranes backwards to look at him incredulously. “Not better than DDU-DU DDU-DU.”

“I dunno,” White says, eyes fixed on the screen, reaching out to hit replay.

“What are you watching?” Off asks, out of nowhere. They both startle. Where did he come from? Out of nowhere.

“New Blackpink,” White says.

“It’s called ‘Kill This Love,’” Gun adds.

“Show me?” Off says, crowding in. Gun looks at him.

White disconnects the headphones and plays the track. Off edges in a little more to see the screen, turning sideways. His left hand, the one that’s closer to Gun’s back, slips under Gun’s shirt, index and middle finger brushing the skin above his hip. It tickles a little so Gun shifts. Off grips a little tighter, which feels better. They settle in and watch it one more time.

Afterwards, White says, “That one move, where they—” he steps back and mimes it, pulling his right arm back like he’s drawing a bow.

“Yeah,” Gun says, echoing it and snagging his shoulder on Off. “Oh, sorry.”

Off pats his shoulder. “You two have fun,” Off says, and goes off. Gun turns back to White to talk about other bits they liked.

After a bit, White says, “P’Off seems pretty comfortable with you.” His eyes dart away when he says it, even though his tone is perfectly even. “More comfortable,” he clarifies.

Gun stills. “Does he?” Was the way they were standing there unusual? Too close? It didn’t feel weird. He’d act that way with lots of his friends. But maybe not with Off, actually. Not with Off putting his hand up Gun’s shirt. Maybe it’s a good sign, though. Maybe they’re normalising. What was a potentially dangerous build-up of tension might take them to a place of… comfort, like White says. Comfortable friendship.

***

They aren’t normalising.

It’s a day shoot on location so the actors are released at sunset, which is an unusual luxury. It’s only a twelve hour day because of that.

Gun is about to give his costume back to wardrobe when Off catches his hand. Gun grips back and then a moment later realises what’s happened. His hand. Not his wrist. Should Gun let him? They’re not in public but they are at work—but it’s not fanservice work. It hurts his head. He’s never been great at figuring out what the appropriate way to be is, he usually just does what feels right and then sort of dares people to have a problem with him, and that’s mostly worked.

And this does feel nice, so. Gun decides not to overthink it.

He smiles at Off, who immediately smiles down at him with such a gentle expression that Gun feels his entire heart slosh around in his chest. It’s the kind of good feeling that promises badness, like that last drink that lets him know he’s had one too many and tomorrow is going to suck.

The problem with the last drink though, is that he has to swallow it to know he shouldn’t have.

“Come back to mine?” Off asks, so soft.

Gun nods.

They pick up food on the way but it ends up dropped by the door when Off pushes him back against it. Off is kissing him and his hands are roaming everywhere, under Gun’s shirt, over his arms, around his back to squeeze his ass.

Off’s fingers are so strong. He presses into the meat of Gun’s ass and Gun can’t help but rock into it. It makes him hard, so fast. Gun hooks one leg over Off’s hip so he can get closer and grind. It puts him in a precarious position because he’s only up on one tiptoe, and Off isn’t helping much, too preoccupied with groping Gun to stabilise him much. It’s no surprise when Gun tips and staggers.

Off helps Gun get his feet beneath him before turning him so he’s facing the door.

Gun isn’t particularly loud, but like this he’s acutely aware of the need to be quiet. He braces himself with both hands. Off reaches around and undoes the button and fly on Gun’s pants, pushing them and his underwear down. They pool around Gun’s feet.

“Fuck, your ass,” Off says. He puts his hands back on it and Gun helpfully arches. “How do you not burst out of your jeans.” The actual answer is that he gets his pants tailored so they hang loose. He knows his ass is a problem and his managers are always having to flip his shirts down to make sure it’s covered when he does variety shows. School Rangers is a good, reliable gig, but he knows it drives Boyd to exhaustion dealing with wardrobe on Gun.

But it has its upsides and the worshipful tone Off is using to address it is one of them.

“I gotta,” Off says and Gun hears his zipper. He’s not surprised when he feels Off’s dick against his ass, but he is surprised when Off seems perfectly happy to just rub against him. Off drags his dick around Gun’s ass seemingly without a pattern.

“Take your shirt off if you don’t want me to get it dirty,” Off says and Gun risks not bracing himself to do just that.

Then off takes two handfuls of Gun’s ass again and slides his dick between his cheeks. He squeezes them together around his dick, moving the flesh around like it’s a fucking toy. That’s so hot. Gun moans, bites it back as quick as he can, but he can’t help it. It can’t be that comfortable for Off, not dry like this, but he’s moving steadily and starting to pant against Gun’s shoulder. He turns those into wet kisses, mouthing along Gun’s shoulder, the knob of his spine. He drags his teeth and Gun jolts.

Gun’s own dick is straining. He wants to touch it, but what if he falls again? The way that Off is carrying on, Gun isn’t sure he’d even notice. He might be too focused on using Gun’s ass. What if Gun lost his balance and Off just kept going, kept fucking him, like he wanted it too much to stop.

Oh fuck, Gun has to come. He decides to risk it, getting a hand around his dick. He’s so hard that he hisses the moment he touches himself, so much sensation that his brain doesn’t even process it fully as pleasure, but rather as pure feeling.

“Do that again?” Off says, voice hoarse.

“Mm,” Gun asks, not able to focus enough for words. Off’s fingertips dig into Gun’s ass, and that makes Gun squeeze his dick and—

“Yeah,” Off says, and does it again. Gun’s whole body spasms, clenches.

Gun gets it. He tenses his ass as much as he can and Off curses, and comes. Gun feels the splash on his back and it surprises him so much he drops his dick. He didn’t even know Off was close.

Off grunts and bites Gun’s neck as he finishes pulsing out. Then he lets go and spins Gun around again, pushing him back against the door. He drops to his knees and that’s a sight that Gun wants to commit to memory. Off, dishevelled, sweating, still hard dick glistening, looking up at Gun like he’s starving.

He pulls Gun into his mouth. Gun tries his best to keep his eyes open, he doesn’t want to miss this, but Off’s mouth is so hot, and he’s so on edge he can’t manage it.

Off grabs his ass again, fucking his own face with Gun’s dick. His fingers slide on his own come and into the finger bruises that Gun can already feel forming. It makes his knees shake.

It doesn’t take long for him to come and when he does his over-tired legs give up the ghost and he crumples into Off’s arms.

Off lets him, turning himself into a cushion so they can both lie on the floor. Gun kicks his legs feebly until he finally gets his pants off all the way.

Gun is feeling pretty sleepy and heavy now, the workday and the orgasm catching up to him. It’s easy to snuggle in, especially when Off is so comfortable. He feels so relaxed. He reaches out and pats Off’s now soft dick as a thank you.

That reminds him. “Is it ok? I could get an ointment.” He’s not sure he could get up but he can at least offer.

“Oh,” Off says, “I don’t use lube to jerk off and your ass is softer than my hand, so.”

That’s an image. Gun’s own dick tries to twitch about it but Gun makes a mental note to ask Off to jerk off for him later.

“I can’t believe we did it at the door,” Gun says, laughing a little at them both. There’s a stain on it that Off will have to clean up. He lets his fingers trace soft patterns on Off’s skin.

“We’re lucky we made it inside. I can’t believe I had to wait a whole day,” Off says.

“Hm?” Gun asks, fingers following the line of one of the veins in Off’s forearms.

“A whole twenty four hours of knowing I could touch you and not being able to.”

Gun feels his face pink up. Off is always like this. They’ll just be talking and then Off will say something that makes Gun’s brain feel like it’s being mashed by a pestle. Gun puts both of his hands on Off’s mouth and tries to smother him.

Off tries to break free, but Gun is pretty sure Off shouldn’t speak anymore for Gun’s health, so it devolves into wrestling.

Off wins the bout conclusively when he’s able to get both of Gun’s hands pinned. And then he leans down. Gun is half expecting him to bite, since he can’t pinch him with his hands busy, but instead he presses one soft kiss to Gun’s lips.

Gun’s face goes so hot he thinks he’s going to cook. He feels buzzy. “Papii.”

“Yeah,” Off says. Gun thinks he’s going to lean in to kiss him again, but instead he slaps a hand on his own thigh and pulls himself up to standing, offering a hand to Gun to do the same. He wipes Gun down with his t-shirt and it makes Gun giggle a little. They pull their boxers on and Gun also puts his shirt back on. Off stays shirtless. When he sees Gun looking he flexes, making a duck face at the same time. Gun bursts out laughing.

***

Gun is absolutely not going to fuck at work because getting caught will never be worth it. And it’s never been a problem before even when he was actively fucking a co-worker. When Gun is at work he just… doesn’t think about sex. It’s like there’s a door in his mind where he can picture it and he closes it. It’s kind of the only way to stop himself from giving himself away, like how Off had. He doesn’t look with intent, he doesn’t parse innuendo. It’s not that he’s pretending not to understand the jokes, he just isn’t in the frame of mind to get them.

But now he does notice the way Off hovers a little closer to him at meal break. They end up in a bit of a rhythm where Off drives him home after work and they take a detour at Off’s apartment to fuck. Never in the doorway again, but it’s come close a few times.

He knows it’s different, between them, because White does keep looking at Off like Off is a way too full glass of water—bubbling over the top, kind of a miracle it hasn’t spilled but worried like it’s going to any second.

It still feels like them, though, just more touching.

Gun is also watching Off closely, but he’s not seeing what he’s expecting to either. Not everyone Gun knows decides they want to fuck him, but those who do follow the same pattern. Gun’s system for trying to keep friendships alive with those people, such as it is, is based on the idea that people want something—Gun—when they don’t have it, and when they do, they discover it isn’t as good as they thought it was going to be. The danger comes in from the wanting, from the way it can grow in the imagination. “If I had sex with Gun,” or “if I was his boyfriend, then all of these things would be better and different.”

The imagination does the damage.

The reality is the cure. People realise pretty quickly that what they see from Gun is what they get. One-on-one he’s still as energetic and whiny and demanding as he is in a group. He doesn’t ‘chill out’ just because they’re tired and done for the day. Gun’s always thought this was a little funny—not funny haha, but the other type of funny—because those are the qualities they liked about him in the first place.

People like that he bounces around and wants to do things until they think he should be still and quiet. They like that he likes making new friends up until he makes the friend that comes next after them.

And then they get bitter and resentful. Gun knows he’s doing something wrong to get people to turn on him like that, but he can’t seem to stop it. He tries so hard, he really does, he wants the people he cares about to be happy and feel good. He doesn’t get why the things he does are fine up until they aren’t.

But they don’t have to get resentful. There’s a window in there where they can get their curiosity sated and then as soon as they start to turn, they can end it and still be friends.

So he’s been watching Off to see when he’ll realise that this is all there is to Gun, and start to get bored with it.

But so far Off seems fine. He sees Gun a lot between work and post-work orgasms, but he hasn’t asked or been able to spend a ton of one-on-one time together, so maybe he hasn’t gotten oversaturated yet.

Either way, the equilibrium is still good. Even if White is watching them strangely, even if Gun knows that he’s right to.

***

Filming School Rangers really brings it home to him. They’re not on the same team, Gun is paired with Arm, which is fun. It’s nice when he’s with a friend, especially when they’re fitting it in during series filming. It means he can spend a little less energy on being careful and focus on what matters: winning.

Gun catches eyes with Off and can see he’s thinking the same thing. Off is slightly less competitive than him—he has MC instincts and can actually keep their goal in mind. Gun loses his head immediately and tries to cheat at rock-paper-scissors because that’s who he is.

Things like this are interesting because they’re here as Off and Gun, they’re still a bit of a package deal, which Gun likes, but producers aren’t poking them the whole time to show off. Gun doesn’t pay a ton of attention to Off during the filming, focuses up when Off is talking, watches him compete, sure, but he’s not seeking him out.

He’s surprised when it’s Off who comes over. They’re having a small water break while the crew sets up cameras, all of them sitting on the floor, when Off comes over. Off stares at him for a moment and Gun leans back to make eye contact. And then Off sits in his lap.

Gun freezes. They’ve done this before. Gun does this with friends all the time. But there are people around, and Gun is deeply aware that this is not something Off does with him when it’s public and there are people around. This is private behaviour. It feels like poking a hole in the barrier that keeps Gun from doing reckless things at work.

But no one is reacting. Arm hands Off a squeezable drinking yogurt. So Gun unlocks his strangely noodle-feeling arms and puts them around Off.

He thinks they’ve gotten away with it but when they get up to fall in line, Arm catches Off’s elbow. “You okay?” he asks in a voice too quiet to be picked up.

“Just tired,” Off says. His eyes are locked on Gun’s. Gun feels a hysterical laugh bubbling up so he turns to face Leo. Absentmindedly, Leo puts his arm around Gun. It helps, calming enough that he can get his breath under control.

Gun waits for a sternly worded message about his behaviour, but he doesn’t get one. Godji, for all she teases him, would let him know immediately if he was in danger. And Off doesn’t seem like he got scolded either, so Gun guesses this is fine. Off didn’t use to let Gun kiss his neck, and then he did and everyone thought that was great, so this is probably also fine. Gun feels his shoulders drop. Actually, this is great. It’s hard for him to keep track of how to act, so if he can act comfortably with Off on camera then that helps him.

“Do you want to stay over?” Off asks. They don’t have anything scheduled tomorrow—an exceptional luxury—so Gun doesn’t see a reason to say no.

***

They wake up naturally in the morning, a luxury Gun will never get used to. The feeling is almost better than sex. He looks over at Off, who is lying next to him scrolling on his phone and reconsiders. It’s second place, though.

They get breakfast. Then Off says, “I bet you want to go shopping,” so they end up at the mall. Gun sees a pair of shoes he likes and Off says they’re cool so they both end up buying them. Gun posts a pic of both boxes to his close friends story and instantly is hit with a wall of cry-laughing emoji and other teasing from friends. Tay just sends 👀. Gun was about to complain to Off that their friends are giving him a hard time, but the eyes make him pause. Is it weird that they went shopping? No. And they’ve bought the same stuff before, so. But Gun has clearly missed some cues.

“Anyone up to anything exciting?” Off asks while browsing a rack of sunglasses. He only sounds half interested.

“No,” Gun says. He tucks his phone back in his pocket.

They hang out, doing this and that, and eventually get dinner. The day has been really easy. Gun has spent this much time with Off before, many times, but normally with other people around, coming in and out. They get shabu shabu because Off likes it and because that way they don’t have to worry about sharing any dishes. Food is one area where their tastes diverge a lot.

After dinner, somehow without Gun really making a conscious choice, he ends up back at Off’s.

“Do you want a shower?” Off asks. Gun does, it’s been a long day. Off is standing really close to him when he asks, though.

Gun keeps his chin even and looks up at Off through his lashes. He’s gratified when Off swallows.

“Together?” Gun asks. Off steps even closer, until his body touches Gun’s and Gun knows that was the right question.

Gun loves sucking cock in the shower. Yeah, the tile is hard, but that’s nothing, Gun knows how to distribute his weight between his knees and his feet. There’s a moment of shock when the water hits his face, an instinct to close everything down, close his eyes, stop breathing, but that’s just a moment. Gun knows that he can breathe under the stream, and the water won’t hurt his eyes. He’d have to choose to drown.

Off makes it easy for him too, feeding Gun his cock in easy presses, keeping a hand on the base to control his aim. All Gun has to do is remember to swallow. He lets his hands roam up and down Off’s thighs, thumbs into the divot of his hips. He wraps his hands around to grab Off’s ass to encourage him to go deeper. When he squeezes Off makes a punched out groan that makes him gasp, water seeping in around the seal of his lips.

After, Off pulls him up. They kiss under the spray, everything wet and sticking. Water drips off their hair to run down their faces, drops gather on their shoulders until they get too heavy and run down their arms and the channels made by the gaps between their interlinked fingers.

They break apart and press their foreheads together.

“Can I wash your hair?” Off asks.

Gun’s heart jumps sideways. Something about that question feels dangerous, but it also sounds like it’d feel really nice.

He nods.

Off does it, holding a hand perpendicular to Gun’s forehead when he rinses the shampoo out so the soap doesn’t get in his eyes. Gun shivers, despite the shower staying just as warm as when they started. Gun tries to return the favour, with less success. A 20cm height difference is nothing when he’s on his knees, but leads to a bit of a soapy situation when he’s trying to reach up.

Gun tries to wipe it away with his hand, but his hand is also covered in bubbles so it doesn’t do much. Off ends up squinting, trying to stop the stream of shampoo escaping his hair. Gun curses, trying to tip Off’s head back, trying to cup water into the right spot. Gun detaches the showerhead and blasts Off with it, relying on power when finesse wasn’t doing it.

Off breaks first, wiping shampoo away from his mouth and laughing, eyes still closed so he can’t see Gun’s glare. But then Gun’s mouth twitches. He starts laughing too, has to press his hand on Off’s chest to keep himself from slipping.

They make it to bed with no other incidents. Gun texts his sister and grandma to let them know he won’t be back, reminds Pim to do her homework. It’s a running joke between them since Gun was such a bad student and he smiles when he sees the obligatory eye rolling face response.

That done, he flips over to Instagram.

Off makes a small noise and Gun looks over. Off angles his phone towards Gun in response. It’s open to his Line chat with Tay.

There’s a screenshot of one of the pictures from Gun’s story. It’s not the one of the bags, it’s a mirror selfie of them in the store wearing the shoes. Off is doing his classic squint with middle finger pinching expression. Gun doesn’t get why Tay would screenshot that until he reads the message that comes after.

Gun is wearing your clothes 🤔 🤔 🤔

How did Tay notice that? Off has a huge closet. Nothing on Gun’s, but still.

Gun looks at Off, trying to figure out how to feel. Off shrugs. “We had to tell him sometime.”

Tell him what? Gun stares at Off trying to figure out what that means. Tell him they’re hooking up? Off and Tay do talk about everything. Off is smiling at Gun, a bit of colour in his cheeks. He looks… embarrassed? No. That’s not quite it. He looks bashful.

“Right,” Gun says, feeling like the sound is coming from far away. Off reaches out and interlinks their fingers. Off’s hand feels hot. Gun tugs his hand free before Off can burn him. Off’s soft smile tilts down. Gun forces a quick grin. “Bathroom.”

He pinballs his way in, locking the door behind him.

Gun grabs a small towel, folds it up and puts it between his teeth. He squats on the floor, squeezing his thighs against his ears. He learned this trick when he was younger and a director was disappointed in him. It worked when he was worried about doing promo on his own too. He hasn’t had to do it since he was partnered with Off. He bites down as hard as he can on the towel and scrunches his eyes. He holds everything tight, not even breathing, for ten seconds, twenty, and then he relaxes. The back of his neck throbs. He does it again.

Next time he relaxes, he says to himself: I have a boyfriend. Off and I are dating.

They didn’t talk about it, but that’s what Off means, right? He’s telling Tay right now, lying in bed and smiling about it. No wonder Gun felt weird when Off wanted to wash his hair, that was like, boyfriend shit.

Fuck.

***

He goes back to bed, sliding between the covers and giving Off a small kiss before he turns onto his side. Off turns too, bracketing him. Gun keeps his body relaxed.

The thing is, Gun is terrible at being a boyfriend. Gun is fun! That’s his best quality. He’s a great time. He was hoping he could stay in that zone, where he knows it’s the best. But if they managed to slip into boyfriend, that’s more dangerous. Boyfriend comes with expectations and needs that Gun is either bad at or incapable of.

But he needs to be good for Off, which means he needs to get better immediately. He doesn’t want to disappoint Off.

He can’t.

***

Call time is 6 a.m. and the alarm is almost physically painful. Gun stumbles around, trying to move on an autopilot that was trained for different terrain. There are obstacles in Off’s apartment where he isn’t expecting them.

They brush their teeth side by side.

“I have to go home and get my contacts,” Gun says when he rinses his mouth.

Off nods. “I’ll drive you.”

Gun pauses. He hadn’t expected that. It will be convenient, though. “Thanks.”

While in the makeup chair Gun hits the group chat. I’m not going to be around for a while? Best to let them know now. One time he skipped club night because of being overscheduled and losing track of time and Jane broke into his apartment—okay she used her spare key—to find out where he was.

Typing bubbles appear.

It’s 6:30 in the morning, wtf from Jeng

Is this for a role or are you accidentally dating someone again

Again???

Oh I forgot you’re new, Gun does this. He almost moved in with a guy accidentally once

Why does Gun have friends? They’re the worst.

He defends himself: I thought he wanted a roommate

You were fucking him. Fucking+living together is getting married

The chat devolves from there.

They’re doing cafe shoots today, so the whole gang is there. It’s nice to have other people there since Gun is still a little off-kilter, but also Gun isn’t sure how to act. Off comes over. He’s still got tissues tucked into his shirt collar so the foundation won’t get on him. Gun waves. Waves. Who does that?

Off raises an eyebrow and comes over.

There’s a lot of downtime on set. Not for everyone, but the actors have gaps. Everyone has their own ways of relaxing; Gun likes to chat with the crew, whoever is free. He’s made some good friends this way.

But when they’re re-setting for new angles, Gun gravitates towards Off. Everything between them feels so new, Gun feels like they’re balancing a soap bubble between them.

Gun opens his mouth to say something, he isn’t sure what, when their acting coach calls his name and he immediately snaps to attention. Gun heads over. Off touches his arm as he walks by. Gun doesn’t turn back.

“What do you think Third is feeling here?” the coach asks.

It’s the scene where Un comes in to help tutor.

Gun thinks about it. “He’s trying to act like it’s a regular study session because he’s used to pretending there isn’t any tension or anything when they study.” He gets an encouraging look, so he continues. “But it isn’t normal because Khai is acting strangely, so the rhythm between the two of them is broken and it’s annoying Third.”

A thoughtful nod. “It’s important to remember here that the story is with Khai now, not Third. When it was with you, your emotions were more open, you got the reaction shots. Those are going to Khai now.”

Gun thinks about it. “So should I be more obvious?” That way the audience could still track Third’s devotion but determination to get over it. He thinks about it. “Or, because it’s Khai’s point of view, Third is less obvious. Khai can’t tell if Third still likes him, so the audience shouldn’t either.”

“Let’s get the director’s thoughts.”

They call him over. “P’X,” Gun starts, and explains.

“The second,” he decides.

“But,” Gun says, and stops, surprised at himself. He doesn’t argue with directors. He gets an encouraging wave. “That’s hard on Khai, he won’t have any encouragement.” Gun knows exactly how he’d feel if someone he was used to feeling supported by stopped; there but not there.

“We need that so Khai understands how much he took for granted.” A pause. “Also so the audience can muster a little pity for Khai after so long watching him hurt Third.”

Gun nods. It makes sense. And eventually everyone will know that Third never gave up on him.

They do the scene.

When they’re released, Gun pulls Off into a real hug, a chest to chest one. He closes his eyes and lets himself lean into it. Off holds him right back.

“You okay?” Off asks, and he’s so considerate. He knows how to do this—be boyfriend.

“Tired,” Gun says.

“Do you want me to drive you home?”

Off drops him at home. Gun isn’t sure if he should invite him in, since they do usually spend some alone time together after filming since they started… dating… but it’s been a fourteen hour day and Gun isn’t sure he has anything in him aside from sleep. Gun knows sometimes his friends—Jennie, mostly—give him shit for partying so much, but he doesn’t really go that much when he thinks about it. He works every day, and these aren’t short days usually. They’re twelve, fourteen easily when he’s shooting. When he’s not he does promos and magazines and endorsements. So when he gets time to himself, he likes to have fun.

It’s important to him, because most days are like this day, where he gets home exhausted and can barely do his skincare and a small workout before he passes out holding his phone.

Unfortunately, he was awake enough to read the latest updates in the group chat.

Srsly though, why warn us. Four accidental boyfriends and we know they don’t stick around long

Yeah, that is a good point

Unless this one is serious???

Did you catch feelings?

Sleepy fingers make it hard and he can only hope autocorrect doesn’t drag him down worse than he’d do on his own, but he types back, I always loved them and hits send before passing out.

Wakes up to nineteen rows of vomit emojis, which is fair enough.

***

If boyfriending is happening, Gun will do his best. It’s not like he can break up with Off, so it’s really the only option. It’s tough, though. They’re already together so much, and it’s not like they have a lot of downtime to go on dates.

Filming breaks for lunch. Off always needs a minute or two to get out of character when they break, which Gun doesn’t, so Gun always goes ahead and gets them both food and saves a spot at the table for Off. Today, wracking his head for boyfriend stuff, he gets some bland food for himself so they can share. Cause sharing food is a boyfriend thing, right?

Off just takes a look at what Gun is eating and says, “Did they not make anything good for you today? That’s too bad,” and digs into his rice.

Gun tries to work up the nerve to serve some of what he’s having to Off, but gets too embarrassed and just sits there eating. His brain keeps snagging on the fact that it’s Off. Off who used to mime throwing up after they’d finished filming any particularly egregious fanservice. Off doesn’t do sappy things.

But he can do other stuff.

They go out for dinner with friends. Gun sticks close to Off instead of wandering between conversations. Off gets into a joking argument about who has the worst table manners and Gun backs him up. And at the end of the night, when some of the group talk about going out for drinks, Gun declines, waiting with Off for a ride back to his.

“You don’t want to go out?” Off asks.

“I want to spend time with you.” Gun says, nestled against his side and smiling.

The way Off smiles back, soft and open, lets Gun know he did the correct thing.

Maybe he can do this.

***

This goes on for three weeks.

Every day, Gun watches Off closely to see if he seems bored or frustrated. And every day he seems the same. Regular Off but—how did White put it?—more comfortable with Gun. Comfortable enough to link hands when they fell asleep, comfortable enough to start hugs, comfortable enough to smile at Gun even when there are people around.

It’s nice. It should be nice. Gun likes Off a lot and he likes being able to touch without worrying Off won’t want it. But being a boyfriend is another thing Gun has to remember to do. He’s not great at multitasking.

Off hasn’t said anything but Gun knows he’s wanting in the boyfriend department. They get dinner and Gun sees the nicest meatball in the soup and lunges for it, eating it before he realises he should have given it to Off. Gun could almost fool himself into thinking they’d managed a friends with benefits situation except that when they’re alone together Off looks at him with so much behind his eyes that Gun has to hide his face in Off’s chest. Gun wants to ask him why, and maybe why now, but that’s not the type of question people want to answer.

So Gun keeps careening around, doing a patchy job at being a boyfriend at best, and Off seems pretty satisfied? It’s giving Gun stomach cramps because he doesn’t totally get what Off is looking for, and he doesn’t know if he’s giving it.

He needs advice.

***

“This isn’t funny,” Gun says, waving his arms a little as Tay laughs. Tay’s laugh is one of his best assets and Gun usually finds it infectious, his eyes get all crinkly and Gun can see all of his teeth. And Gun likes that he can make Tay laugh but this time he’s not joking.

“No, yes, Pet, I’m sorry,” Tay says and schools his face before cracking into a wide smile immediately. “It is a little funny, though.”

Gun makes a noise of frustration. This is not how he expected this conversation to go. He’s been sitting on this secret for three weeks and it finally burst out of him when Tay came over to try on clothes. Tay is currently wearing three of Gun’s shirts and he’s tucked a pair of sunglasses into the neck of the top one, which is the only reason Gun isn’t pushing him over. The clothes don’t deserve it.

“Alright, go back to telling me about how you ended up dating my best friend but you’re not sure how, and I’ll try not to laugh.”

“I know how,” Gun corrects. “I’m just not sure why.” Gun was there for the how.

The smile on Tay’s face disappears. “What do you mean?”

Gun starts talking quickly. He doesn’t want Tay to be mad at him, so maybe if he explains— “We’re dating on purpose, I’m not going to break up with him. I just don’t get what he’s looking for here. We’re not really doing boyfriend stuff, and I’d sleep with him without it. Does that make sense?”

Tay puts a hand on his forehead. He unhooks the sunglasses and takes off the oversized baseball style jersey with sparkly stripes. He gestures with a hand and Gun crawls into a hug. Tay pets his hair. Without lifting his hand off of Gun’s head he says, “No. Walk me through this. If you don’t want to be dating Off, why are you? Why don’t you break up? He really likes you.”

Gun sighs and snuggles in a little. “I could tell,” Gun says. And then he tries to explain. But he doesn’t know how to start.

There’s the true thing, which is that Gun saw that Off wanted him, so Gun offered. But Tay asked why, and that’s more complicated.

“I could tell he suddenly liked me,” Gun starts. “And I didn’t want him to feel rejected.” That’s kind of it.

***

Tay doesn’t understand.

Gun knows he leads people on. He doesn’t mean to. He does things that give people hope, but it’s accidental. He likes people, and likes being close, and doesn’t like being alone. When he meets someone cool, he wants to spend time with them. He’ll invite them along clubbing, he’ll go find them at lunch. And despite his job—or maybe because of it—he’s not that good of a talker. Get him in a group and people will talk over him. They’ll banter over his head. He’s not good at quick comebacks and he often doesn’t realise he’s walked into a joke. It’s part of what makes his partnership with Off work. Off balances him out and makes him more entertaining for the audience. But when Gun combines not being much of a talker and finding new friends interesting, he listens a lot. He asks a bunch of questions.

He’s had the phrase ‘you made me feel special’ spit in his face several times as someone walked out of his life.

The first time he heard that in the present tense he felt great about it. “You make me feel special,” his classmate Nan said on one of the rare days he was at school, smiling shyly at him. Gun’s chest had ached with how much that made him feel. He likes his friends so much, they’re everything to him, and he loves the idea that he made them feel good.

Gun learned to dread it, though. Because ‘special’ somehow meant ‘unique’ and Gun couldn’t give that. He loves his friends. Emphasis on the plural. Then they notice that he does all the things that made them feel special with other people and resent it.

There was always a moment when the small, happy smile that someone would give him twisted. When the expression turned hurt, and bitter, and eventually angry.

He hated losing people.

It was so confusing for him at first. Nan leaned in and asked him for lunch.

“Oh, I can’t,” Gun said, “I’m having lunch with Jane.”

Nan's smile snapped off her face and she leaned back. “I see.”

She was upset, Gun could tell. But he didn’t know why. He and Nan only had lunch sometimes. Gun didn’t have a fixed group he ate with, he moved around. That had been true for as long as they’d known each other. So why was she upset now?

It took a few more times of this before he started getting some of the pieces.

What he gave stopped being enough.

It was fine when he first met someone. They liked that he was friendly and wanted to get to know new people, but they expected that they’d always get more time, more attention. When they realised that the amount they hit the max, that Gun had nothing left, they got upset and left.

Gun thought about trying to let them take over. When Kla pouted at Gun when he said he wanted to go play soccer with some other boys, Gun changed his plans and stayed back to play video games.

He stopped spending time with other friends, he spent time with Kla every day even when it was really late at night and he’d just gotten back from a 14 hour filming day.

It didn’t help.

Kla wanted more from him. He asked for it, he demanded to know what Gun was thinking, feeling, like Gun didn’t already tell him everything. He wanted Gun’s opinions on things that Gun didn’t have any for.

And Gun was lonely. He didn’t know how, when his time was monopolised, but he was.

They went to see Iron Man. Kla loved superhero stuff, and Gun liked movies so they often watched things together. And it gave them something to talk about. Kla was shooting Gun rapid fire questions. What did Gun think of the effects? What about how he didn’t have a secret identity? Were they going to make more? Gun knew movie people so maybe he’d be able to tell if a sequel is coming. If they did another superhero, who would be a good one? What if—

“I don’t have anything to say about this,” Gun snapped, frustration crackling along his teeth.

Kla looked at him, hurt, and Gun regretted it immediately.

“Right,” Kla said, and shifted away from him. And that was the beginning of the end. Kla ordered more model kits and got more movies and had lunch with Gun every day, and every day he looked more frantic about it. Nothing Gun did calmed him down. Being friends with Kla made him feel like there were creeping vines growing over him until he was covered, nothing left for anyone. Even when he had all of Gun’s attention and time, it wasn’t enough. Gun knew he was being asked for something, but he couldn’t give it—didn’t know what it was… he’d already given everything he could think of.

When Kla stopped wanting to hang out, Gun had no one. And that was… unbearable.

It was better to have a friend group. But that put him back to where he was, people meeting him, liking that he wanted to be friends, and then hating him when he decided he wanted to make a new friend.

Sex made things easier, in a way. It felt like the something extra that Gun had felt like he was being asked for but didn’t give. But it turned out that wasn’t true either. He could be in bed, touching someone, and they’d look at him like he was a million miles away, far enough away to need a crushing grip to grab at him. So sex wasn’t the answer.

That’s the step that Gun is trying to avoid with Off, but he doesn’t know how.

***

How can he explain this to Tay?

“I wasn’t expecting Off to like me like that.” Gun feels like he’s scooping around in his own insides to find these words for this. “I don’t think I did anything different, and I know that he didn’t use to like me.” Gun is very sure of this. Off was never cruel but when they were first working together Off barely tolerated him. He was professional enough to get through the workday, but he’d joke between takes about how silly what they were doing was, bonding with the crew over it while Gun stood there. And Gun gets it, acting is weird, and of course he didn’t want people to assume he was his character. And then becoming a bl couple wasn’t what Off had expected from his career. All of the promo was full of long hours and it was tiring. Off has a temper and Gun is annoying, it meant a reasonable amount of Gun getting snapped at until they got more used to each other.

They’re friends now, Gun is confident of that.

“I thought maybe he was just a little pent up or, or something when we slept together. But then he said we were boyfriends and I don’t get why he’d want to? With me?” Gun realises that he’s dropped his gaze to his feet, like the gaps between his toes would have an answer. “Because I didn’t do anything different and he didn’t want to before, so now I’m not sure what I’m supposed to be doing. Off doesn’t really act differently, so I can’t tell if he’s happy or not, but he can't be, right? He has to be getting bored by now.” He darts a glance at Tay. “As you know—” he gestures between them, “I’m not great at boyfriend. I thought three weeks would be enough for him to get bored and realise it but he doesn't seem like he wants to break up, so I'm kind of worried.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Tay asks. His usual smile is missing.

Gun wriggles a little. Maybe this was a mistake. “Because you love him too,” Gun says. “I thought… you’re someone I could talk to who would be on his side. You could help me figure out how to do what he wants more.”

There’s a crack, somewhere, in Tay’s face. Tay is so expressive, Gun always knows what he’s feeling. But not right now. Right now Gun can’t tell at all except that it’s not good. “Have you tried not taking unilateral responsibility for your relationship?” Gun sounds out unilateral in his head.

“What do you mean?”

“Like you’re trying to make it work on all on your own. Remember when you first started being in a ship and you tried to make all the promo happen on your own while Off reminded you he had a girlfriend like every two minutes?” Gun does remember this.

“That’s not fair, Off always showed up.” Gun wasn’t alone, Off just wasn’t used to the more fanservicey stuff. Or being touched. And Off got better at it pretty quickly, he got better than Gun, especially at the wordplay or saying cute things.

“It is fair. I was there. You saw the potential for the ship and it didn’t matter what Off thought or did, you were going to make it happen.” Tay’s voice goes bitter at the end. “You built the ship around him until it would have been dumb of him not to see how good it would be for his career. If you’d discussed it with him, he might have said no, and then where would you be?”

Oh, Tay means it as a criticism.

Gun thinks for a moment. That was oddly strong from Tay. Gun crawls off his lap so he can kneel and look him fully in the face.

“Are you talking about this or are you talking about us?” Gun and Tay had dated for a few months in 2017. Gun really liked Tay—really likes Tay. He’d even thought, maybe, that he and Tay would work out. They were both actors, both had big friend groups. They were even putting Tay in a bl ship, so he’d get it. And then one day they’d been out, him and Gun and Off and they’d run into a fan. It was still a rare-ish novelty back then. Immediately they’d rearranged, Gun leaning into Off’s arm and Tay half a step separate from them. There was a flash in Tay’s eyes as they’d separated, enough that it stuck with Gun hours later.

Afterwards, Gun had gone home with Tay. They’d been lying in bed and Gun had asked the question.

“Did it bother you that the picture was of Off and me together?”

Tay thought for a second. “A little, yeah.” He rolled over and looked at Gun. The light was low, barely enough to catch in his eyes. “It would be nice for it to be us.” Gun felt a pit drop cold and fast into the centre of his belly.

“Tay…” he’d said, and held him. Three weeks later Gun ended it. Gun knew the ship and the publicity were only going to get worse; it was going to be Off and Gun in the public world, Tay to the side. Maybe it only bugged him a little now, but what about later? Every time an extra weight put down until it cracked the thing between them.

It was better this way, as friends. They’ve been fine. It’s been years. Gun thought they were fine.

Tay rubs his face. “I don’t know.”

“Oh.” Gun is kneeling in the middle of his room, surrounded by clothes. His hands want to reach out to fidget with one. “Maybe I should—” he starts miming getting up.

“It’s your room,” Tay says, interrupting. “In your house. I should go. You don’t need to manage this. It’s fine.” It’s such an echo of what Gun has been thinking that Gun feels his jaw drop a little. Tay stands up.

“Are you mad at me?” Gun asks in a tiny voice that he hates because he didn’t mean to. He’s not trying to manipulate Tay.

Tay closes his eyes for a long moment. Then he kneels down and pulls Gun into a hug. “Never, ok? Never.”

Gun hugs him back, one squeeze, and then Tay is gone.

***

Gun gives Tay a couple of hours to calm down and then sends him a pic of a tree. Tay likes photos and likes taking them, and he also likes critiquing the ones that others take.

Tay responds pretty quickly, they go back and forth a bit and it ends with Tay sending a picture of a smiling sun, because he loves a pun.

They’re alright.

***

Gun hasn’t seen Tay since they talked and he doesn’t know if it’s going to be awkward and if Gun should give him space til he feels better. But if he gives him space, then Off might wonder what’s wrong, and Gun doesn’t want him to ask. So Gun is a little nervous the next time Off’s friend group goes out for dinner.

But Tay is fine, throwing an arm around Gun as soon as they meet up, and sitting next to him at dinner.

Gun has also spent some time wracking his head about boyfriend stuff and put together a list. One of the items on it is to make an effort to show off the gifts Off has got him before. People like that. Gun’s ex-boyfriend Sea liked to buy him clothes for him to wear at certain events so the Gun others got to look at was the one he wanted them to. Made him happy. That was before Gun was getting professionally styled for most things, of course.

The only thing making it difficult is that Off hasn’t gotten him that much stuff. They don’t really do presents outside of birthdays. They’ll buy each other meals or sometimes spontaneously send a little cash for a special occasion. But Gun does have a few things.

“You’re wearing the watch,” Tay says at dinner. Gun finishes reaching for water and then gives his wrist to Tay to inspect. The Mickey Mouse Rolex is very cute. Tay rolls Gun’s wrist back and forth a few times. “It looks nice. Don’t you think?” Tay directs the question to Off. Tay pushes Gun’s wrist up so he can see it, thumb sliding back and forth beneath the strap of the watch.

Off stares for a second.

Gun feels his stomach slip-slide. He smiles at Off, and it feels as lopsided as his insides.

“It does look nice,” Off says, eyes narrowed in Tay’s direction. And then he turns to his left to continue talking with Arm.

Whatever just happened there, Gun doesn’t like it.

Off wants to go home, so Gun excuses himself to the bathroom before they go. When he gets back to the table, neither Off or Tay are there. He looks around and sees them in the corner. He walks over to let Off know he’s ready, and then he starts to hear their conversation. It’s just too angry to be a whisper.

“—the fuck was that,” Off says. “You trying to make me look like a possessive bastard?”

“I shouldn’t have to do that to get you to notice your boyfriend’s effort and tell him he looks good.” Tay is pointing his index finger into Off’s chest.

“It’s none of your business—” Off starts and Gun winces. That’s a mean thing to say to a friend.

“You’re letting him do it again. He’s doing it all and you’re just… whatever. Show up.”

And that’s… the opposite of what Gun wanted. Off isn’t the problem here.

Gun can only see them from the side but he can see Off’s face twist. Off opens his mouth and he knows that whatever he says is going to be hurtful. Off and Tay are best friends, Gun doesn’t want them to fight.

He propels his body into action, bounding up to them. “I’m ready!” he announces and leans on Off for a second, the amount of time that Off usually tolerates it. Gun won’t push his luck right now.

Gun grabs Off’s wrist and drags him off. He looks back to wave at Tay. Tay watches them go.

***

In the car, Off puts the key in the ignition but doesn’t start the car. Gun darts looks at him out of the corner of his eye.

“Are you happy?” Off asks, staring straight through the windshield at the dark parking garage.

Immediately Gun recognises that he isn’t asking about right now, or dinner. He resists the urge to answer instantly and thinks about it. The thing is, Gun has everything he wants right now. He gets to act, he has friends, his family have what they need. And he likes spending time with Off. Aside from the creeping wave that rises and falls within him saying that everything could fall apart at any moment, things couldn’t be better. And if he thinks about today, doing an appearance, having nice dinner, seeing friends, and now getting to go home with Off, the answer is obvious.

“Yeah,” Gun says. He reaches out and touches Off’s wrist, gripping the steering wheel. “I am.”

“Okay,” Off says, and pushes the button to start the car.

“You okay?” Gun asks. Off checks the mirrors for pedestrians.

“For sure,” he says. “Tay is an idiot.”

“That’s what you say but he’s your favourite,” Gun says.

Off grumbles and the sound is so familiar it soothes the worries Gun had pricking up.

***

It gets fucked up. Of course it does.

Gun’s at the bar with his friends for the first time in two months.

He’s here because Off suggested it. Off was tired and Gun didn’t know what that meant. He was dreading having to head back to his own quiet house when Off said, “Yeah, I’m not up for much tonight, you should go have fun with your friends.”

Gun should have known that was a test.

He’s had a few drinks and it’s like all of the double-guessing and worrying melts away. He’s just Gun here, and all he has to do is what he wants to do, which is dance. No one is expecting him to give the right answers, if he wanted to talk it would be too loud anyway with the band they have.

It’s three a.m. when Gun heads out, sweaty hair sticking to his forehead and arms and legs loose. Dancing is better than any type of massage for getting every bit of the body to unwind.

He steps out into the street, cooling down in the night air while he waits for the car. Gun pulls out his phone from his back pocket. It’s stuck in there as sweat moulded his pants to his body, almost vacuuming sealing his phone in. But he fishes it out with two fingers. He takes a look at his notifications and his breath turns to ice, icicles hitting his lungs in gasps and he sees a missed message from Off.

He swipes to open it, thumb missing it twice before he opens it.

Keeping your spot warm 😊 the message reads. There’s a picture attached.

It’s a picture of Off’s face against his pillow, barely pulled back enough to see the edge of his white sleep shirt. He didn’t use to wear one to sleep but Gun didn’t like sticking to his skin when he stayed over. He’s dressed like he would if Gun was there. Pointing out that Gun isn’t.

Gun checks the timestamp of the message, knowing that he’s hopelessly late. 11 p.m. Even if Gun called now, went over, Off would already be asleep. Fuck.

Off was waiting for him. Gun should have seen this coming.

“---un. Gun.” It’s Air, she’s trying to get his attention. He tries to focus on her face. She’s really close to him. Her eyebrows take up his entire field of vision. They’re really well done, he should find out who does it for her. Oh. She’s talking. “You okay?”

Gun blinks. Then he giggles.

Next thing he knows, he’s waking up in his bed. His alarm is blaring and light is coming in.

Gun stumbles out of bed. They have a press day. It's interview in the morning, shoot in the afternoon. Maybe if Gun hustles he can get to Off’s and they can drive in together. And that way Gun can use the car ride to figure out how he can make up for this.

He agonises at his closet. What should he wear? Can he play the cute and pathetic angle? Or should he show up more sexy and distracting? Or genuine and very sorry? He doesn’t know what Off likes. He doesn’t know what Off likes.

Gun messages about the ride but Off says he’s already at the building. Which is weird because it’s early, Gun isn’t running late. Gun is never late. It’s one of the first lessons he learned as a kid on set. The most important thing, more than being good, is to not waste anyone’s time. Actually, being good at acting is the least important part of the job. Which is a little unfortunate, because it is the part that Gun is best at.

Today is one of those days that are more about the other pieces—being a polite co-worker, remembering the talking points, going where directed, being charming. Off is great at that stuff so Gun is lucky that they’re almost always paired. But he’s not sure he can count on Off to smooth over the cracks today.

Off is in the makeup chair when Gun gets there. Off cuts him a look but keeps his head face forward to not disrupt the work. “Hey,” Gun says. Off can’t say anything back cause of the makeup.

Gun gets pulled into his own chair. It’s a basic look. There’s going to be a small photoshoot after so they’ll be back in the chair for that, but right now they’re supposed to look ‘natural.’

Then they’re up. The chairs are high and Gun has to hop to get into it. Even Off’s feet aren’t on the floor, but he can hook them at their midpoint fold. Gun is left kicking them. Which he does until Off puts a hand on his knee. Gun stills his legs immediately. Off squeezes his knee. Gun shoots him a look. Off doesn’t look annoyed. He gives Gun a smile. Does that mean maybe Off isn’t that mad?

Gun wants to do something back, something that screams ‘I also missed you last night and think of you all the time, boyfriend’ but he doesn’t know what that would look like. This is work. The type of work where Gun, in the most blunt way, can’t be gay. So Gun doesn't know what he can do.

He tries giving Off extra compliments. He mentions Off’s acting, his dedication to the script and the character. Off nods along when Gun talks, but he doesn’t… it doesn’t seem like anything. Off isn’t as compliment oriented as Gun is, he doesn’t need the reassurance. And then Off makes a self-deprecating joke and it sounds like Gun set him up for it, but that’s not what he meant. There’s too many paths here, too many layers to what is being said. Gun can feel a drum starting to beat behind his forehead.

He keeps a smile on his face.

Off says, “And I’m lucky to have a partner who is so diligent and helps me.” He's not sure if that's a dig about Gun abandoning him last night, the first sign that Off is pissed off. Off leans a shoulder towards him. Any other day Gun would take that as a sign. That’s a cue for him to blush and look at Off, maybe touch him. But if Off is mad at him, Gun shouldn’t touch him. If Gun tries to touch Off while Off is mad, it makes Off even more mad. But people touch their boyfriends to show affection. There’s a tug of war in Gun’s mind between all of the things that he’s learned are correct and he can’t pick. The moment goes by and leaves him behind.

Eventually they’re done and re-dressed for the photospread. Gun gets a generous highlighter application, he’s pretty sure he’s reflecting enough light that the camera won’t need a bounce.

They aren’t mic-ed but they are being filmed. The photographer orders them to switch up for the next shot and they break the pose. Before they get into the next one Off leans in, ear hidden from the camera, “Are you okay? You seem a little out of it.” Their cheeks are almost touching so Gun can’t see his face.

Gun should have known Off would notice. They don’t know this crew, but Gun knows he’s pretty obvious, so anyone who could compare how he normally is would be able to tell that he’s off.

“Just tired,” he says, like an idiot.

Off nods. “Must have been a fun night out.”

Gun’s body stutters, a freeze and unfreeze. “No,” Gun says. He can feel Off’s breath by his ear. “Yes,” he corrects. “I mean yes, but I missed you.”

Off pulls back to look at Gun’s face. Gun hopes he’s giving off sincerity but he can’t quite tell. His emotion isn’t settled enough for it to be a clear signal.

Off’s eyes rove over Gun’s face. Whatever he’s looking for, he’s not seeing it, and Gun feels his heart drop even lower. “What—” but the photographer is calling for them, so they have to move.

***

They get out of wardrobe, and faces wiped off. They’re supposed to be at the GMM building in an hour to review schedules but Off keeps shooting looks at Gun and each one is like a chisel prying Gun apart. He knows that acting like this is making it worse, that whatever Off says next Gun won’t be able to respond right to, will be too wound up to make it seem natural, but he can’t stop.

When they get out of the car, Off puts a hand on Gun’s back, steering him through the lobby, into the elevator, up to the floor, between the cubicles, and into a dark office. Off leads him inside and only then does his hand drop so he can double back and close the door. There’s a moment where Gun stands alone, in darkness, before Off flips the lightswitch.

“What happened?” Off asks. He sounds concerned. Which is both unlike him, and not what Gun was expecting. Gun wishes he had a mirror or a monitor to check what his face is doing.

Gun can’t puzzle out the right answer to that question, so he says, “I’m sorry I missed your message yesterday. I wasn’t checking my phone. I’ll do better.”

Off stares. “Uh,” he says. “I mean, you should appreciate my thirst traps, so, sure?” Gun blinks at him. “Dude, you’re freaking me out, what is going on with you?”

Off doesn’t seem mad. Gun assumed he would be, but he isn’t, so everything Gun is doing right now isn’t right. He should feel relieved, but he doesn’t.

“Sorry,” Gun says, shaking his head to try to clear it.

“You thought I’d be mad,” Off says. It isn’t a question. Gun feels himself flush with embarrassment. Off puts a thumb on each cheekbone, hands coming up to cradle Gun’s face. He presses down a little, just enough for Gun to feel pressure and the coolness of his thumbs on Gun’s heated skin. “I knew you were out, why would you be watching your phone?” He grumbles that last bit.

Gun feels like he’s offended Off. Gun is swerving to avoid pitfalls and overcorrecting his way into a ditch. He smooths his face before putting on an earnest smile. He can feel the skin of his cheeks tug against Off’s palms. “Definitely,” he agrees.

“Hey, no,” Off says, frowning. “Don’t do that.” Gun keeps smiling even as he inwardly curses. Do what? What is he doing? Off lets go of Gun’s face to pull him into a hug. “You were really stressing, huh?” Gun doesn’t get what he means. Of course he is? Gun still feels like he’s lagging. He hasn’t even put up his arms by the time Off let’s go. “I know you. When you’re out having fun, you’re not going to be checking in. I don’t expect anything.”

He says it like a gift but it pisses Gun off. He doesn’t expect messages back, he doesn’t do anything different than before. “If you don’t expect anything from me, then why are we dating?”

Off looks struck. “Gun…”

“I thought we were fine,” Gun says. “But you said you wanted… and I’ve been trying. I’m trying, ok? But I don’t know what you’re getting out of this.”

“Gun, I’m getting you, that’s what I—” Off reaches out to grab Gun’s hands.

Gun throws his hands off. “You already had me. I thought we had a good thing. And then you had to want me. You’re supposed to know me, you’re supposed to know better. I’m not good at that stuff, I’m not good for it. Why? Why did you do that?” Gun can feel the frustration building up as heat behind his eyes.

Off’s face is going stormy, eyebrows drawing in. Gun tries to turn away, pull himself together, but Off doesn’t let him. This time when Off reaches for his hands, he doesn’t let Gun back down. His grip is strong.

“I wanted? You’re the one who… we did…” he keeps training off. His eyes are locked on Gun’s and his angry expression twists more, eyes widening and lip curling. “Why did you kiss me?”

Abruptly, the frustration and anger drains out of Gun. He lost sight of his goal. He can’t believe he said that.

Gun clams up. Off is squeezing his hands so tightly Gun’s hands are starting to tingle.

“Answer me.” Off’s eyes bore into Gun’s. Gun doesn’t say anything. “Gun.” Gun knows he’s done badly in this conversation. He doesn’t know how to fix it; words aren’t his tools. “How about this: what do you want from me?”

Off shakes Gun’s wrists when he stays quiet. The heat behind Gun’s eyes has cooled, water pooling in the corners. “I want you to stay with me. I don’t want you to leave.”

“Okay,” Off says. He lets go. He exhales once, hard. “This is… fuck you.”

Gun’s vision blurs. He feels rooted to the floor.

Off starts pacing back and forth. “The worst part of this is, I think I understand what you were thinking.” He pauses for a moment, looking Gun up and down. Gun feels stripped by his look. “You thought this would make me happy, so you did it. It’s. It’s fucking fanservice, but for an audience of one.”

Gun breathes in a shaky breath. “I love you,” Gun says, knowing it doesn’t matter.

Off looks at him, eyes flat. Gun has never seen that expression on his face before. “Don’t say that to me.”

“But—” The tears are running down his face now.

Off starts to walk out. Gun’s feet unstick and he rushes to the door, arms wide, to block him. He can’t let Off leave.

“Move,” Off says. Gun doesn’t. “Move, or I’ll move you.” His hands are in fists. Off hasn’t hit him, not like how he’d hit his friends. He’s wound up a few times, and always turned it into a poke or a sigh. Gun isn’t afraid that Off will hit him now. But he is afraid of Off pushing him aside.

Gun moves.

***

After Off leaves, Gun doesn’t know what to do. He stands in the office, alone, in a silence so loud that he can hear both his heartbeat and the slight buzz of the lights.

Every beat of his heart pushes the knowledge into more deeply about how much he’s fucked up.

Fanservice.

Gun wants to chase Off down, wants to argue with him. But is Off wrong? Tay said it too, Gun did all of this to try and keep Off. He did think Off would like it. He hadn’t expected Off to want to be boyfriends but he went along with it to keep him happy.

And even if he could convince Off, he’s already failed. Off is mad at him now. He left.

The room feels too big around Gun when he’s alone in it.

He sinks down, arms around his knees. There’s a fine tremble in his legs, leftover energy from when he tried to stop Off from leaving. Or maybe it’s his phone.

He pulls it out. It’s Jennie.

He picks up the call. “P’Jen,” he says. His voice tries to go in three separate directions.

A pause. “Gun?”

Gun tries to say something but every time he breathes his voice catches. It makes an almost mechanical sound, glass on metal, grinding.

“He left,” Gun manages, eventually. It’s the only thing inside of him. Off left.

“Where are you?”

When she comes in she gets him to sit on the couch. Gun presses his hands together and grips them between his thighs.

Her forehead is furrowed. Gun looks at the wrinkles above her nose. He counts them, one, two, three. “Tell me what happened,” she says, and he does.

He does it in fits and starts, afflicted with his usual problem where the longer he talks the harder it is for him to keep track of where he is going, the words piling up and feeling more precarious.

She blows out a breath when she’s done. “Have you ever heard the phrase ‘self-fulfilling prophecy’?”

Gun looks at her through blurry eyes. “I get it, I’m dumb, I don’t know things.” He can’t spell and he isn’t smart; all he knows how to do is act.

“That’s not what I—you’re not dumb.” She bites her lip. He rolls his eyes, then swipes away the wetness the motion releases from his eyes.

“But I did a dumb thing, right?” He’s not even sure which part was the dumbest. Yelling at Off or thinking he could keep him.

Jennie shrugs, not arguing with that. “What are you going to do?” It’s a very Jennie response, to ask him a question.

“I have to get him back,” Gun says. The how is unclear but he can’t let Off get away.

Jennie tilts her head. “Are you sure you lost him?”

“He left.” Did she miss that part of the story?

“He left the room, yeah, left the fight, which is personal growth, frankly. Remember when he used to blow up?” Off’s temper runs quick and leaves just as fast. He’d snap and then five minutes later be chill again. Somehow Gun doesn’t feel like this is on the same level as someone eating the last snack. Yeah, it’s been three years, but those weren’t easy. He likes what they’ve had recently; they’re easy in each other’s company. They worked for that, and Gun knows that things can get better but they can also get worse. His face must say that because Jennie keeps talking: “Maybe you have to figure out how to apologise, maybe he needs space, but I don’t think ‘losing’ him is even a worst-case scenario.” Gun must still look conflicted because she puts a hand on his knee. “Does it feel worst-case?”

Promptly, Gun says, “No, worst case scenario is he tells everyone I’m gay and came onto him and I lose my endorsements.”

Jennie’s expression sharpens. “Do you think he’d do that?” The question isn’t judgmental, she’s genuinely asking. She knows just as well as he does what a scandal can do, even if she isn’t keeping the secrets Gun is.

“You didn’t ask me that, you asked me what the worst was.” Truthfully, Gun doesn’t think Off would do that. They’ve got so many gay friends and Off never had a problem with them. He’s been loud about his support, as much as he can, and Gun knows it wasn’t just for his benefit. But he also knows people can do things they don’t agree with when they’re upset and Gun is great at making people upset.

“Yeah, and you had that answer ready.”

Gun shrugs. He’s always thinking about it a little. He knows he’s obvious, and that’s why he has to be extra careful. He’s already right on the line. And it just takes one slip and it can’t be undone. There’s no re-take. There’s no clarifying interview, or agreement on an alternative story like ‘we were playing and it was hot so we had a fight.’ This is the big thing that Gun is always carrying that he has to be perfect about. All of his work isn’t security against this. There’s no margin of error.

“He won’t do that. But he might not want to work together again.” That seems likely.

Jennie looks at him shrewdly. “Is that what you’re most worried about losing?”

He knows what she means. Should he be most concerned with keeping Off’s friendship? “It’s the thing that matters most.” It’s why they did all of this. Gun’s feelings are his own stupid little problem and they don’t have a place in making decisions.

***

Unfortunately, his feelings don’t seem to agree. He can’t focus at the meeting, stomach twisted up about their fight. Off isn’t there, begging it off and he’s so reliable that no one takes it badly. Gun’s there, but he might as well not be, the way he’s carrying on.

He’s not better for the rest of the day. He goes out to the bar with friends, knowing that if he sits alone he’ll fully fall apart. He drinks too much, sweats too much, and shows up on set tired and drawn.

Gun is quiet in the makeup chair. They’re in Two’s room today. They’re starting with the scene where Third records the video confessing his love to Khai. White has a later call and after meal they’ll do some joint scenes.

It means Gun doesn’t need to see Off today, which feels like more of a curse. He’d kind of like to get it over with, see how bad it is. He’d even prefer it if Off yelled at him, this waiting drags him down.

He gets his wish the next day and Off is… fine. He greets Gun when he sees him. Gun doesn’t know what to say to him, and Off is has makeup and wardrobe and blocking review, so they aren’t face to face until they’re about to film.

Gun would worry about the acting, but this is the part he can do. As soon as they’re slated, he’s in character. Third is in love with Khai, Third doesn’t want Khai to know it, but he can’t help but he can’t help himself from looking a little too long. He smiles a little too wide, and if Khai touches him he can’t help but stiffen up, not able to act relaxed when he gets a bit of what he wants.

And then they call cut and Gun is back to being himself, uncertain and in the wrong and wanting reassurance despite it.

They don’t talk.

***

Filming is Gun’s escape. The bits where they’re in character and Gun can look without second-guessing how it looks to other people (Off), if he’s sending the right message (to Off). They’re both professionals.

Mostly professionals.

Honestly, the kiss scenes are hard. In Puppy Honey their kiss was hard because Off made such a big deal about it that it got in Gun’s head. It made Gun feel like he couldn’t approach the scene earnestly because if he was serious about it and Off was making jokes it made it look like Gun was in it for real and Gun was worried about what Off would do if he thought that for real instead of just joking about it. So Gun kept falling out of the headspace.

This kiss scene worries Gun for the opposite reason. In character, Khai is trying to win Third over, a Third who knows he shouldn’t give in so easily but wants it more than anything. Off is taking this one very seriously because he took the criticism of their Puppy Honey kiss to heart. They’d talked about it a lot, before. Off had gotten into the character motivation, he’d bounced ideas back and forth with Gun about the mindset.

He’s still serious at rehearsal, talking about the blocking, and the angle. They don’t practise the kiss itself. They practise the leadup.

It’s three days away and the worm digging a hole in Gun’s stomach burrows deeper every day. He doesn’t want to think about kissing Off again. It feels like there’s only bad outcomes here. There’s a world where he kisses Off, and it’s the same, it’s the exact same as all of their kisses before and Off looks at him and thinks ‘Gun was always acting’ and Gun won’t be able to defend himself. Even though, for his part, he doesn’t know how to kiss him without the weight of every kiss they’ve shared before, every late night and stolen morning, bleeding through.

Or they kiss and it’s different because Off doesn’t love him anymore. Gun isn’t ready to find that out.

So, he’s not looking forward to it.

By Wednesday, he’s worked himself up to a fever.

Rationally he knows that the fever is probably the product of not sleeping and travelling but it also feels right, somehow. Like his brain and body know he’s been stewing in his own badness and are punishing him with physical symptoms.

Gun gets into character. He stares at the ground, but his eyes don’t see it, getting into Third’s headspace. Third has made so many resolutions to resist Khai but fundamentally he still wants him, and Khai has been sweet, so. Third can’t ignore how good that feels, how much it’s what he wants no matter what he tries to tell himself. Third is conflicted but willing.

Khai leans in for the kiss and Off’s lips touch Gun’s. Something in Gun snaps as quietly and easily as a single dry noodle. Gun rushes forward, pushing into Off’s space. Off rocks a little, not expecting in and Gun braces them both, one arm around Off’s back, one snaking up into his hair to angle his head just right. Gun isn’t thinking at all, operating on pure feel, otherwise he’d never touch another actor’s hair unless it was choreographed. Off pushes back just as hard.

Gun’s so caught up in it, he doesn’t even realise they’re moving until he bumps the table behind him. He jumps a little, startled, and the director calls, “Cut!” He doesn’t dare look at Off. He can already feel his eyes swimming, too much embarrassment to be contained.

“---take it down a few notches,” Gun hears.

“Yes, P’X,” Off says.

Gun looks up. They’re getting direction on the scene. Gun should listen to that. He tries, getting that the gist is that was too much for the characters. Off’s hair is a mess, product making the places where Gun ran his fingers through stand out unnaturally far. Absentmindedly, he reaches out and starts to smooth them. Off presses two fingers to Gun’s wrist. His face is blank. Gun freezes.

Slowly, he pulls his hand back. Off’s fingers drag on his skin.

“Gun,” the director says.

“Yes, P’X,” Gun says, snapping his eyes away from Off’s face.

“Just… keep your hands by your side.” He’s got one finger on his chin, looking at them both consideringly.

“Okay,” Gun says.

Makeup has already come over with hair picks to settle Off’s hair. They look at the pictures they took of it this morning and cluck while getting them to match.

Gun’s stomach churns. “Sorry,” he says to them. They wave him off.

They kiss for a while, getting the angles that they need so there’s options for the edit.

By the end, Gun is exhausted. His head hurts, and his lips hurt, and he’s hot, sweating enough that he’s sticking to his costume. They have to go back to the Grammy building after and Gun presses his head to the window in the car for the length of the drive. The chill of the air-conditioning makes him shiver.

He stumbles around for a bit, and eventually finds a corner set up with a little tent to nap in. Why is there a tent? He doesn’t ask questions. He puts a jacket on himself as a blanket and curls up, falling into a light sleep quickly. Napping in random places is a critical skill he’s developed and it doesn’t desert him now.

He rouses a little when the light changes. Someone is close to him, blocking the glare from the fluorescents. Gun can’t even make a noise before that person drops down, letting the light shine bright again, crawling into the tent with him.

“I’ll get you sick,” Gun says when Off settles on top of him.

“We spent the whole day kissing.” Off makes a fair point. “If it’s going to happen, it’s going to happen.”

“Okay,” Gun says, too tired to fight. He pulls Off closer against him.

***

When Gun wakes up, Off is there, mostly next to him, but his shoulder is still on top. “Papii?” gun asks, quiet.

“I shouldn’t have done this,” Off says, sitting up.

“Oh,” Gun says, carefully controlling his breathing. “Right, cause it’s…” he doesn’t know what it is. He doesn’t know why Off did it, he doesn’t know anything about what Off is thinking, really. Hasn’t this whole last while.

Off is looking at him. His eyes are slightly narrowed. “What do you want from me, Gun?” That’s Gun’s question.

“I want things to be normal,” Gun says, immediate. “I want us to be ok.”

Off nods, like he expected it.

Gun figures this must be ok to ask because Off did. “What do you want from me?”

Off laughs once, and rubs a hand on his face. “I don’t expect anything from you.”

Gun also tries to nod, but it feels slow, like his blood is pumping sluggishly.

“Just… do what you want,” Off says, and gets up. He walks away.

***

Well, they talked about it. So everything should be fine now, Gun supposes.

Gun isn’t sleeping. He’s catching snatches on set, sacked out on chairs or in corners. This is pretty normal for him, a big believer in getting sleep where he can given their packed schedules.

Gun is sleeping lying on some chairs, when his shoulder is shaken. He unwraps his arms from around himself and sits up, careful not to rub his eyes. “Is it time?”

“Yeah,” Off says. Gun startles. He almost falls off the chair and Off settles him.

At this point, Gun would not rule out that he’s hallucinating, but he feels awake and Off looks solid.

Off steps back. Gun resists the urge to reach for him. “Okay,” Gun says.

They film the scene.

***

Off starts showing up in Gun’s orbit. It’s always at reasonable times, like when Gun is running lines, or during meal break, or when Off is finished with makeup but Gun is still in the chair. It should be normal, but Gun startles every time.

Gun tries to roll with it. He starts grabbing food for Off again, he angles his script so Off can see it when they’re practising, and he rubs the inside of his lips raw with his teeth, biting them to stop himself from asking: are you still mad at me?

He’s at dance class with his friend Air. He’s getting private lessons, so naturally he asked his friends to come with him. He wipes his neck with his small towel. He found a cute place that monograms them so he got them done up for everyone.

“I don’t get what you’re complaining about. He’s acting normal, isn’t that why you did everything?”

He flicks his fingers, trying to shake the words out. “But shouldn’t it be harder for him?” Gun still feels guilty, shouldn’t it be even more feelings on Off’s side?

Air looks at him shrewdly. “Do you want it to be harder for him?” Gun opens his mouth to say no. “It sounds like you want him to be having a harder time getting over you.”

“That’s not… no.” She’s right that reaching an easy but distant type of friendship is what Gun’s eventual goal was, but this doesn’t feel like that. This feels unsettled. How can it be uncomplicated friendship when there’s this big emotion thing spinning between them?

Right?

***

But it doesn’t seem like Off does have any particular hangups. It’s Gun who feels like he’s always half a step off.

***

They go to film on location. Location always sounds fun, but there’s so much less control over weather conditions and sound pollution, and the tents they set up for shelter are good but they can get really hot. Gun doesn’t complain because he knows he’s lucky, but when he can pick where to film he likes it when they can stay indoors. But on the plus side the days are longer so there’s less time that Gun needs to fill.

He can’t stop watching Off. There should be some clue, right? Some hint? It’s not that he wants Off to be mad at him, he doesn’t, but it’s starting to freak him out how different Off is than the Off from a month ago. It makes Gun wonder if he overreacted, if Off had only had a glimmer of dust in his eye and that’s why his eyes had shone and he’d seemed intent. It’s Gun who pushed them, after all. Cause it doesn’t seem possible that someone could go from so interested to so uninterested so fast.

But there are things Gun remembers.

Like, they’d been at the monitor watching playback on a scene. Off shifted slightly so he was behind Gun. And then. Hidden by Gun’s wardrobe and the way they were standing, he’d slipped his hand under Gun’s shirt and started running two of his fingers along Gun’s hip, right at the point where his skin was exposed.

Gun used everything in him to stay still. He looked at Off, whose eyes were fixed on the video—until he saw Gun looking at him. The look he gave Gun then was so full of promise. Heat and want in its fullest expression, something that made the original look that Gun had interpreted feel like a sliver. A slip of a thing. There was so much there. The thought made him shiver.

“Papii, your breath is tickling me,” Gun said to cover it up.

“I’ll hold it, then,” Off says. He never looked away.

He’s doing a lot of looking away now.

He laughs with the PAs, he puts his headphones on to focus, he does his job. Gun watches him do his job, uninterrupted, because Off isn’t looking at him unless it’s time to work together.

They end up sitting at the edge of the beach facing the water and Gun isn’t surprised when the director decides that’s a frame he wants. Gun can appreciate the sense of drama to it.

He’s sun tired and work drained when he gets back to his room, but it’s not easy to let go of the tension that he’s carrying when it comes time to sleep. It’s like there’s a string holding him up and every time he starts to relax it snaps tight and jolts him back into alertness. He keeps running through lists of what he needs to do to try and tell himself there’s nothing he can do now that can’t wait til tomorrow, but it doesn’t help.

It’s probably good that he and Off aren’t doing their thing, he thinks between blinks up at the ceiling. Because if they were and Gun couldn’t sleep, there’s no way he could resist crawling over to Off’s room. They’d have been caught for sure. Times like these, when Gun’s brain buzzes and his body feels like it’s floating away, it really helps when there’s another person there to help tether him to the earth. Off is particularly good at it too. He’s seen Gun at all of his most frazzled moments before live events. So yeah, there’s no way he’d be able to keep himself in his room if he had another option. Even as it is, he has to picture Off’s face when he said Gun was doing fanservice, keep it right behind his eyes so he doesn’t try anyway.

It would be a bad idea.

Gun knows it isn’t great that he gets like this. Other people can calm themselves down no problem. Gun has played some of those characters so he’s been in that headspace. Characters who don’t care what other people think of them, who have lives that aren’t dependent on the goodwill of others. People who feel settled into their bones. Gun isn’t like that. He often feels like he’s coming back to himself. He flies off and it isn’t until someone reacts that he clicks into what he’s doing. It’s the way they look at him that tells him what he’s done.

Gun doesn’t really know who he is when no one is looking at him.

And when there’s too many people, Gun doesn’t know what it means. It’s the big wave of everyone’s faces pulling at him. That’s when Off steps in. He tells Gun to look just at him and Gun doesn’t get dragged under.

Right now Gun can’t look at Off. There’s nothing good for him to see.

***

They get back, and Gun is tired from travel but it’s still pretty early when Gun gets home, like only nine, so he makes plans to go out with friends. They go the bar, it’s a full table. That’s great, it means there’s always a conversation happening, and always someone dancing.

By all rights he should be having a great time, but instead of relaxing into it, he keeps checking his phone.

Ball catches him unlocking and relocking his phone for the fourteenth time and jabs him with his elbow. “If your boyfriend let you out for the night you should just enjoy it!”

This is a terrible way to remember he never told the group chat he broke up. He doesn’t have to, because Air jumps in.

She gestures with her drink, “That’s way over.”

There’s groans and heckling from around the table.

Ball waves his hands. “Come on, be nice, what if his heart is broken?”

Air slashes her hand horizontally through the air. Her drink sloshes and she licks a droplet off of the fleshy part of her thumb. “No, he wanted to break up, it was part of the plan. You can congratulate him.”

Gun’s heart skips sideways. She isn’t lying, this was exactly the hope. And Off is even acting normal with him. So he should be congratulated. He didn’t ruin the most important professional relationship he has. So why do her words make him feel like he wants to personally crack his ribcage open and scratch at his heart until it stops twinging at him?

“Well, then, if that’s the case,” Ball says. Gun squeezes a smile onto his face. Air and Ball crowd into his space, suddenly looming. “Gun, are you okay?”

Gun tries to ask him what he means but Ball is talking above his head. He’s got an arm around Gun’s shoulders. “He didn’t drink too much, right, Air? So he shouldn’t be sick?”

She shakes her head.

“I’m fine,” Gun says, shaking his head to clear it.

Ball and Air look at each other again. “Sweetie,” Air says, “Is this about your breakup? Cause if you don’t want to be broken up, that’s fine. You could always talk to O—”

“Looks like we need more drinks,” Gun says, loud enough that he doesn’t have to hear her say Off’s name. Off and the club don’t mix. Not like the drinks that the rest of the table, blissfully unaware of this conversation, are cheering for.

***

He wakes up the next morning with a groan. He’s not too hungover, luckily, cause he drank the chicken essence and the water and took painkillers, all things he can do on rote after a good night out. But his alarm is loud and the shrillness of it drives into his brain.

Gun reaches over to unplug his phone and turn it off. His eye catches on his LINE notifications and he stops breathing for a second. He didn’t, did he?

He did.

He thumbs his phone open and there is bright bubbles is evidence that he definitely drunk messaged Off from the club. It’s a video clip. Gun plays it back. The video is loud, people shouting and Gun is clearly half listening to them, giggling before focusing back on the screen.

Gun’s face is flushed and he’s got the collar of his oversized shirt all the way off of his shoulder, neck and collarbone exposed.

“Papii,” Gun hears himself whine, so there’s not even any deniability about who the message is for. “You’re so pretty.” Gun in real life closes his eyes, and then yanks them open, needing to know exactly what he did. The whole thing is coming back to him. He’d gotten more drinks, he’d danced with his friends. He’d thought about how nice it would be if he was with Off instead and Off was holding him. It wasn’t even a horny fantasy, which Gun would find more forgivable. Gun in the video giggles again, then bites his lip. “You smell good.” Video Gun’s voice goes low for that. Then his eyes cut to offscreen, someone clearly getting his attention. Video Gun says, half distracted, “kiss, kiss,” and then kisses at the screen before the video goes shaky and dark before ending.

Real life Gun already wants to scream with frustration, and that’s without reading Off’s comment below, sent twenty minutes ago because Off turns off his notifications when he sleeps.

All Off wrote in response was: don’t

Gun puts a pillow on his face and screams until he starts to feel lightheaded.

***

The only positive side to this that Gun can think of is that if Off hadn’t been turned off of Gun before, he must be now. He’s really seen the full uncharming array of Gun’s shitty behaviours.

***

There’s no filming today but there’s a GMMTV group thing, so the artists are all meeting at the building to get bussed out. Gun would stay away from Off, give him space, but of course today is a day where they have to be OffGun. So he goes and stands near him for wrangling purposes, and tries to gauge how angry he is while not making it obvious.

Off doesn’t look at him. So pretty angry then. Gun thinks that’s fair enough. He resolves to be as unannoying as he possibly can.

The coordinator comes up to them wearing a black t-shirt with GMMTV blazoned on it and a clipboard in her hand and asks him and Off if they have a preference of which van they ride in.

“Whatever P’Off thinks is most convenient,” Gun says, politely.

Off looks at him for a long moment. Then he turns to the coordinator. “Can you excuse us for a second.”

Off beckons and Gun follows him. It’s a quiet space they’re in. Off wheels around and Gun, not ready for it, almost bumps into him.

Off has his hands on his hips. “Stop acting like—” he looks around, searching for the word, “like I’m doing something to you.”

Gun feels stricken. “I’m, I’m not. I’m just trying…” He’s not sure what he’s trying. He’s trying to do the right thing but everything feels wrong.

“Whatever you’re trying, cut it out. Everyone can see your puppy eyes and the way you’re edging away from me. Just act normally. This is our job, this is our work. You’re always the one who puts that first. Do you want rumours of us fighting to get out?” Off is speaking slowly and each word gets a little bit louder. Gun can tell he’s trying to stop himself from shouting.

“I can’t,” Gun admits. He’s bad at this type of pretending. This is improvisation. He needs a script, he needs time to prepare if he’s going to be someone else. And he has to be someone else to act like he did before, because that Gun was happy. This Gun, the Gun he is right now, can’t be happy because, “I miss you.”

Off closes his eyes. Gun watches him. Gun’s hands grip each other, squeezing and twisting his fingers. He shouldn’t have said that. He shouldn’t have said anything.

“What do you want me to say to that?” Off’s eyes are open and they’re full of fire. “Do you want me to say that I’m right here? Like you did when you were pretending?” He sneers. “It’s just as true, isn’t it. I’m right here and you’re still not happy.” The words hit Gun in the stomach. “When you said that I thought… Do you get how fucked up that is?” Off takes a step away, jerks his head, comes back. “Why did you do it?”

“I didn’t want you to leave me.”

“And you thought you had to date me for that?”

“No,” Gun clarifies, “not date.”

Off goes really still. “Right. Just sex. That’s worse, you have to see that’s worse. Insulting to think that after three years, I’d be mad that you don’t put out.” And you couldn’t hold my hand for two of them, Gun thinks. Things change, relationships change. The Off of three years ago didn’t want the same things from Gun that he does now. Gun hears what Off is saying, though, and he doesn’t want to be difficult.

“Wouldn’t you?” Gun asks instead, genuinely curious, even if he thinks Off might not be able to actually honestly answer the question. People lie to themselves all of the time. “If you wanted something from me and couldn’t have it? Wouldn’t you get annoyed with me? You’d say it was fine but it wouldn’t be, you’d resent it, and resent me, and find someone else to love.” Gun means it totally neutrally, as an observation, but he can feel his traitorous eyes burn hot. He shouldn’t have said that. This is Gun’s worst trait, worse than being whiny and clingy, worse than spending too much money. Worse than spreading his emotions around. He gets too caught up in the moment. He can’t ever keep perspective, can’t remember what the right things to do are. He gets competitive when they do variety games, he answers too genuinely during interviews. He needs Off to balance that out for him, to charm the crowd, to keep in mind that their end goal is entertaining people. He can’t do it alone. And if Off is working against that, then it’s over.

If he could hold onto a little perspective, then he wouldn’t crack open and say the things he knows are most guaranteed to get people to leave him.

Off stares at him.

There’s a knock on the wall and the coordinator walks back in, bowing a little. “P’Off, P’Gun,” she says and she’s so new and wide-eyed, he feels bad for her trying to wrangle all of their big personalities.

“Do we need to go?” Gun asks.

She’s nodding before he finishes speaking and Gun looks at Off instinctively, checking in. Off meets his gaze.

Gun heads out first. He can hear Off following him.

When they get to the event the tension between them is neutralised. They make eye contact and a wordless truce is formed. Sure, they need to figure things out between them but what’s most important is winning all of these games.

The first one is a piggy back race. Gun jumps up, settling easily on Off’s back with his arms around Off’s neck and his legs around his waist. It’s important that Gun does the holding on so Off can focus on the running, so Gun makes sure he’s secure. Off starts to run and Gun tightens his grip, and then the MC admonishes him for jumping the gun. Gun snorts, just because everyone else isn’t ready isn’t their fault. He squeezes Off a little in reassurance and Off pats his calf, attention mostly focused on the start signal.

There’s a few other competitions. It’s more like school rangers than a fanmeet in terms of the level of fanservice, but he and Off are paired for all of them, so it’s kind of a hybrid.

Later on, there are interviews. It’s the same questions as always, what is your favourite thing about each other, what did you think when you met each other, etc. At the end, the interviewer asks them if they have any well-wishes for each other, or any worries. Gun gives a genuine but practised answer about how Off works really hard and he wants him to be able to relax, and also mentions that Off drives fast. Both of these are sneaky compliments because they show that Off is desired as an actor and presenter, and also Gun knows that Off is proud of his driving skill. Gun can drive fine, but there’s a reason Off always drives when they ride together and it’s because he genuinely enjoys it.

Gun puts the microphone down and waits to listen to Off attentively. Off has his own answer for this about Gun being careful with his money, which isn’t a compliment but is fair, especially because there’s a collab coming out soon that Gun is already strategising how to duck out of work to get it.

Instead Off gives a different answer. Gun startles, but tries to hide it by nodding along. “I want him to be surrounded by good company,” Off says. “I don’t want people to take advantage of him. For him to be tricked or hurt.”

Gun wonders what that means.

He tugs on Off’s sleeve after, when they’re de-miced. “It’s not my friends who made me send that video, it was my stupid idea. Don’t be mad at them. If that’s what you meant earlier. And I’m sorry, by the way, I should have led with that.”

He’s trying not to do the cringing and puppy dog eye thing that Off said. He’s a twenty five year old adult man, he knows how to stand up.

“Whatever you want to do next, I will do better. You don’t have to worry, though I get if you do. I know I keep fucking up,” Gun says, and it comes out as a whisper, which kind of goes against the whole taking responsibility thing he’s trying to do.

Off shifts his weight and Gun thinks he’s going to walk away again but instead he pulls Gun into a hug. “It’s really hard to stay mad at you when you’re like this,” Off says, and his voice is thick. Gun can’t even put his arms up to hold Off back because he’s so shocked.

“Where is your confidence, huh?”

Gun barks a laugh. “Right.”

***

Gun makes a better effort, after that, to be normal. And it feels like it’s working. Off comes by at the normal times and Gun does the normal things. He gets them both lunch, he sends funny pictures, he video calls Off when he’s at the mall and he sees a shirt that he thinks matches Off’s style.

And he hates it.

“Stop fretting,” Tay says, poking Gun in the forehead.

“Sorry, P’Tay,” he says. He looks down at the… somtum that they’re eating, apparently. Wow he has been out of it.

It’s a nice stall, in one of the back alleys in an area Tay likes to take photos in, which is their plan for after they eat.

“Tell me what’s bothering you.” Tay steeples his fingers together and Gun can’t help but grin, Tay is so funny and he always knows how to make Gun laugh.

It makes him want to talk, but, “I shouldn’t.” Tay nudges him. Gun gives him imploring eyes. “I don’t want to make you sad.”

Tay’s mouth makes an ‘oh.’ “This is about Off?”

Gun nods his head, a little ashamed. He specifically didn’t want to bring his Off problems to Tay’s door.

“You’re still having problems?”

Gun wonders what he means. Technically, no. They are not having problems. Gun is having a problem, like always, and he can’t figure out why. Air was right, he got what he wanted, there’s absolutely no reason that Gun should be upset. But also, Tay asking is weird. It sort of makes it sound like Tay doesn’t know that they broke up.

Tay says, “You’re going to figure it out. It’s you and Off, he’s always come first for you. It’s obvious how much you care about him; I know you’ll do what it takes to keep him. That’s why you dated me. To make him feel more comfortable, right?” Gun feels the words like a dagger. “So if there’s an answer, you’ll find it.”

There’s a ringing in his ears and it’s all Gun can focus on. “That’s really what you think of me, huh.” Gun puts his hands on the table carefully, perfectly flat. “I think I’m going to go home,” he says. He deliberates for a second, then adds, “but for the record, I really liked you. You can think what you want if you don’t believe me.” Gun thinks his track record actually proves what a shitty liar he is even when he puts everything he can into it. But he can’t say he blames Tay, he deserves this summary judgement. He’s been staring at his fingers while he speaks so he doesn’t have to look at Tay’s face and whatever resentment has to be there.

He gets up, pushing down on the table to help himself up. Tay grabs at Gun’s wrist but Gun is faster, pulling away. He can’t help but follow the line of Tay’s arm up to his face, though; Tay looks stricken.

“I didn’t mean…”

“Yes you did,” Gun says, and walks away.

***

He goes to dance class to fill the time. He likes it and they’ve got enough fanmeets coming up that Gun can justify it as something that will help him pick up the choreography faster.

Class is fun because it’s practice. There’s no one watching him do it except himself in the big mirror. He doesn’t have to worry so much about both doing the thing and how other people will see him doing the thing and not having to split focus is pretty relaxing.

Gun focuses entirely on the movement, on learning the steps.

He leaves class tired and sweaty. He picks up some food on the way home, briefly gives kisses to his grandmother, and then tramps up to his room. His body feels heavy when he showers, limbs giving just a little bit of extra resistance.

It’s a full body tired. He hopes it’ll be enough to let him nod off, but no such luck. For the last couple of months he’s felt like his brain has been buzzing around the edges, getting louder and more shriek like every time he’s tried to poke at it. But between the conversation with Tay which left him knocked off of centre and the dancing, he feels kind of… blank. It would freak him out but he’s too tired.

Blank enough that when he asks himself if Tay was wrong about him, the question lands and sticks instead of bouncing off of the obstacles in his mind that keep him from thinking clearly.

He didn’t date Tay to make Off more relaxed, but he did notice that it did, and he liked that side effect. And that’s because… he wanted Off to be comfortable. He can’t justify that by saying their careers depended on it because at that time they really didn’t. They weren’t OffGun yet, they were just one of many CPs starting to pop up. Other CPs broke up, they could have too.

But even thinking that felt wrong. Gun didn’t want to be paired with someone else and have to do fanservice and spend 12 hour filming days with someone else. He wanted what he had with Off to work. And as they got to know each other, that only became more true. They message and share funny stories. They’ve met each other’s families.

So there’s no rationalisation, it’s all feelings. Which means that in a bigger way, Tay was right. Off comes first for Gun. Off sort of always has.

One of the things about acting for television that Gun tries to teach the juniors, is that it’s important to know the camera angles, and not just because it’s critical to hit the mark. Sometimes new actors think either too much with their face or too much with their whole body. They’re focused on themselves. But what matters is what’s in the frame; everything else is invisible. So Gun always asks what can be seen. And he uses that information. If his character is supposed to be nervous and it’s a close up, maybe he’ll pick at his collar, but if it’s a wide, maybe he can put his hands in fists at his side—something that wouldn’t matter if the angle was tighter.

He tries to remember that the closer it is, the less is visible.

He wonders if that’s how it’s been about his feelings for Off. If they’ve been dancing on the surface of his skin, in the gap between his eyes, inside of him—too close for him to see.

Gun tries to pull his attention wider, really look at himself. He sees the same Gun as always, but this time he thinks, this is what it looks like when I’m in love with Off. He knows what that same feeling looks like on Off, but now he can clearly see them as a matched set.

***

He wakes up to a ton of messages from Tay, which startles him because Tay does not double message like, ever. There’s two modes with Tay: either he messages ‘do you want to meet up in 15 minutes’ and if you miss that message it’s over, or he’ll painstakingly schedule something in for months in the future. But in either case it’s not so much a conversation. Gun could scroll back through their chat and see basically nothing but ‘where are you’ and ‘my place?’ reacted to with a smiley. Sometimes there are little check-ins from Gun, just to see how Tay is, and Tay usually responds to those.

A bunch of messages is a bit of a surprise. Gun starts scrolling through them, half-asleep before his brain kicks in and he remembers why Tay might be messaging. It gives context to all the crying sun and bowing person stickers.

Gun taps the text bar and his thumbs hover over the keyboard. What does he say though? He doesn’t want to say they’re fine when they’re clearly not. He’d thought they were, that they’d seamlessly transitioned into friends, but turns out Tay was thinking some pretty shitty things about him. And maybe Gun deserves that in general, but not that specific one. But he can’t blame him, he can see exactly how Tay might have come to that conclusion.

And besides, he was right about Gun being in love with Off.

Normally this would make Gun panic—the idea that someone is secretly resenting Gun is one of his worst nightmares. He looks inside himself for the instinctual reflex to please and charm. He should want to win Tay over, make him feel good.

Instead he feels like a tube with a flashlight at one end, empty but glowing with it. There’s no space in him for this anxiety right now, everything has been scoured away by the revelation of last night.

He taps on Tay’s contact, pulling up the phone icon. Then he closes his phone.

***

Filming is filming. Acting is a release and an escape, and the time between is spent either napping or alert for being called over.

Off waves at Gun and Gun’s heart does a wobble. He’s here, it says to Gun, and aches for him. Gun squashes it back down. On the outside, Gun smiles back. He walks over. “Hi,” he says and his smile is so wide he can feel his cheeks stretching. Off gives him a look. Gun realises that his whole ‘love’ revelation was only in his mind. Off doesn’t know that Gun is different.

Gun opens his mouth to tell him.

“We’ve got posters to sign for the fan meeting after this, do you want a ride?” Off asks.

Gun closes his mouth.

That weird glowing feeling wiped away everything, but the world is coming back. And with it the second fundamental truth: it doesn’t matter if they’re in love or not, they can’t fuck this up. Gun has already proven that fucking it up is all he’s capable of. What’s the ideal situation? They go back to dating, and then it doesn’t work out. Gun has experienced some explosive friend breakups, shouting, things being thrown at him etc., and it hurt, but it was fine. What Gun understands on a bone drilling level is that he can’t afford that with someone he’s dating. Gun can’t keep someone in love with him, he knows that forever is a fantasy. He can’t give whatever it is that people need to keep them around.

“Sure,” Gun says. He can carry this.

“Tay owes me twenty baht,” Off says smirking. Gun freezes at the mention of Tay. “He bet me you wouldn’t get in my car again.”

“You drive too fast,” Gun says automatically. He bites his lip. Be nice. “But you’re good at it.” A pause. “Besides, it makes sense.”

“No need for us both to get stuck in traffic,” Off agrees, nodding. “Not when we’re going to the same place.”

***

Nothing has changed, Gun reminds himself. The plan is still to act normal until it feels true.

He has to tell himself this about ten times an hour. He leans towards Off, wanting to be close to him, then realises that he’s not supposed to reveal his feelings, so he pulls back, and then he remembers that he’d lean on Off normally, so goes back to it. It gives his movement a bit of a stuttering quality, like a film with duplicated frames.

Off, being the decent guy he is, doesn’t call Gun out for it.

Gun assumes it’ll smooth itself out eventually.

They go to film Jennie’s show. Gun has to focus on remembering his lines, and on the games, and he can’t keep track of that and double-guessing himself. They do a bit where they get blindfolded and Jennie says it’s ok to kiss her while she can’t see and immediately Gun leans over to kiss Off’s cheek. He hits blindfold and before he can readjust Off angles his face so Gun’s lips touch his skin.

Sounds from Godji and the crew let him know that he did it right.

When they take the blindfolds off, Off gives him the indulgent smile that the occasion demands and Gun’s breath catches. It’s nice when Off smiles at him, even when it’s part of the bit. Off isn’t stingy with his smiles but they hit every time.

They have a dedication ceremony afterwards, but Jennie pulls him aside.

She waves off his worries. “You’ve got time. Tell me what’s going on with you and your Papii now.” Gun feels his cheeks heat. She pokes him in the chest. “I know there’s something. You were fighting before and today you were both flirting so much.”

“Were we?” Gun marvels, trying to think back over the filming.

She snaps her fingers in his face. “Focus. Tell me quickly.”

“Nothing’s changed,” Gun says, hesitant. She moves to poke him again and he puts up a hand. “But…” Gun lifts his head to look her full in the face. “Panhan—”

Her face gets serious immediately. “Tell me.”

“I love him.” Gun whispers the words so quietly, aware that people could be anywhere.

Her face cracks in relief. “I thought you were going to say something bad.”

He goggles at her. Not bad? What could be worse? She must correctly judge his expression because she says, “When two people love each other it isn’t a tragedy.”

“Isn’t it?” Gun is genuinely asking. “Knowing how it could end? What’s at risk? Best case is I hide it and he keeps on getting over me.” Gun is pretty sure he won’t get over Off, not the way things have gone between them, how Gun was drawn to him immediately and completely from the moment they met.

Jennie reaches out and holds his hand. “You know I’m not great at love, but I’m going to give you some advice as your senior.” She doesn’t pull that card often on him. He straightens and prepares to listen. “You need to ask yourself if it’s hurting already. You’re thinking of all the ways it could go wrong, but you haven’t considered that you might be in the middle of it going wrong. I don’t know a lot, but I do know that if you love someone—if anyone loves anyone—and they try to twist themselves away from it, then that’s violence.”

He walks to baulk. She doesn’t let go of his hand.

“There are things you have to do for this job, to keep this job. But those are things you do, you can’t let it take away who you are. And your love is part of that. If you try to deny it, it’ll kill you just as bad as the worst hurt anyone else can do.”

“P’Jennie,” he whispers.

She squeezes his hand and lets him go. “Ah, that’s a lot of seriousness. You go do your work.”

Gun stands there for a second, trying to think of what to say, but she waves him off.

He goes.

***

Something in what Jennie said feels like it unlocked Gun a little. The next time they’re doing an interview, Gun listens to Off give an answer about if he’s ever been in unrequited love and thinks, I love him, and it doesn’t hurt at all. He teases Off right back and doesn’t second guess himself.

Maybe it’s weird that realising they both have feelings for each other makes it easier for Gun to feel like he did before everything, when they were just close coworkers, but Gun’s never pretended to understand how anything works.

It’s easy now, to lean into Off’s space and to pull him in for hugs. Off just lets him do it. Maybe it’s just as easy for Off now too. Gun would almost say that nothing has changed, except that Off is maybe more comfortable with Gun now. Whatever sense of personal space that Off was preserving before seems to be eradicated.

Gun wonders if he’s imagining that, if the recent awkwardness is looming big in his mind, but they’re at a fanmeet and Off turns to listen to staff off to the side. He leans away and Gun reaches for his wrist to hold him on the spot so all the fans can see him, but Gun’s hand slips and he ends up grabbing onto Off’s hand. His first thought is that he should let go so Off doesn’t react badly in front of all the fans, but when Off doesn’t throw him off, Gun pushes it a little. He pulls slightly and Off tightens his hand.

Gun is so surprised he can’t help but look around, wondering if everyone else is seeing this. Off doesn’t hold hands! Everyone knows that! He ignores the part of his mind that remembers that Off has held his hand before, and not when the cameras were rolling.

It’s a little bit of their private time, pulled outside of the confines of the bedroom.

Gun lets himself enjoy it. Maybe he should worry about it—knows that he normally would—but it’s hard to when it feels nice. He likes being smiled at and touched by the guy he wants. Wouldn’t anyone?

He’d like to talk to Tay about the change in Off, but they haven’t talked since their fight. Gun keeps opening their conversation, looking at it, and then closing it.

They’re prepping for an Oishi promo event and there’s a bit of a wait before they go on. Gun’s thumb drifts to LINE without him thinking about it. He’s got the conversation open without any conscious input from his brain.

Maybe he could at least send a sticker back—Tay’s sad sun is staring at him.

His screen darkens a little as a shadow falls on it. Gun looks over his shoulder and startles when he realises how close Off is looming behind him. Gun bumps into him slightly when he jumps.

“Who are you talking to?” Off asks.

“No one,” Gun says, thoughtless, then corrects, “Tay.”

“Hm,” Off says, which is a bit weird, so Gun looks at him. The corners of his lips are tight. “How is he doing?”

“I dunno,” Gun says. “You’d probably know better than me.”

Off perks up at that, which is also weird. This whole conversation is strange.

It isn’t until they’re wrapping up that it occurs to Gun that maybe Off was jealous.

***

It gives Gun the impetus to finally put thumbs to keys and start messaging Tay.

He starts typing:

Hey, when you said that it was obvious how much I care about him, what did you mean by that? How obvious—

He deletes it.

Tries again.

So I don’t think you were wrong when you said Off comes first for me, but I’m not sure what to do about that, do you have advice—

No. Too desperate.

I think Off is jealous of you which is crazy right? Do you know why he’d be like that?

Even worse.

There’s a new capsule collection dropping, do you want to go shopping

Has the virtue of just skipping past the awkwardness but Tay doesn’t like shopping that much.

Gun chews his lip.

What are you up to later

He hits send.

***

“Are you going out with friends later?” Off asks when they’re waiting for their cars to be pulled around.

Gun thinks about it, half distracted with making sure he has his phone and battery pack and anything else. “Maybe?” Gun thinks about the bare bones message he finally managed to send off to Tay, Gun hasn’t checked to see if he got messaged back yet. He checks his phone. There’s directions to a back alley restaurant that Tay likes. It makes him think about the time that he and Off went on one of Jennie’s shows and Off made a joke about how Gun liked it from the back. Gun punished Off with a hug, which always shut him up back then. “Looks like it,” Gun says.

“Your usual group?” Off asks. He’s going for nonchalant but his eyes are fixed on Gun, which is ruining the effect. Gun would critique that if this was a scene.

“Why do you ask?” This is getting weird. Gun puts his phone in his pocket.

Off’s face goes conflicted. “You seem happy today.”

Gun feels nonplussed. What does that have to do with anything?

Then he thinks about it. Gun’s happy today because he’s in love. Which was apparently true before but now he knows it. But he’s in love with Off. It doesn’t matter who he’s talking to. Unless Off thinks it does. Does Off think he’s seeing someone new?

If asked, Gun couldn’t explain why he does this. Instead of saying anything, Gun shifts so he’s facing Off before stepping just that little bit closer. Close enough to see Off’s throat work when he swallows once, hard. Then Gun tips his head up. Off’s pupils are dilated, Gun can almost see himself in them.

Gun’s lips part. Off’s eyes lock on them.

All of a sudden, Gun realises what he’s doing. He yanks himself back. His fingers are shaking a little.

“I have to go.” Gun turns and flees.

***

He curses himself out in the car. This is the sort of shitty, reckless behaviour he thought he got over when he stopped being a teenager who couldn’t keep his feelings under control. He can’t be going around living on that edge nowadays. And poor Off, hasn’t Gun done enough? Talk about mixed messages.

There’s a treacherous curl of pleasure in his chest offering a discordant jingle against his chorus of recrimination. A feeling that says, well, at least you know he still likes you. Which is not the point.

Before he gets out of the car he presses his forehead to the steering wheel, trying to shove all of his thoughts and feelings back inside. He needs to focus on this conversation. It’s already a struggle to remember why he wanted to talk to Tay in the first place—he’s here to fix the friendship but also if he’s lucky to get Tay to explain Gun to Gun. Clearly Tay has a better sense of what Gun is feeling than he does.

He’s been sitting in the car too long. He bonks his head on the steering wheel once and then another two times to really lock it in and then he gets out.

Tay’s place is a disaster like always, which is fair enough because they’re never home and he doesn’t live with anyone else who might help keep the place livable. There’s stacks of fan gifts and other gadgets he’s bought in one corner, and in the next a pile of shoe boxes. But the living room is fine and that’s where Tay chivvies Gun.

Tay’s wearing huge puppy dog eyes. Gun sits on the brown couch and instead of joining him Tay crouches in front of him and grabs both of his hands. “I’m sorry,” he says.

Gun tilts his head. Why would Tay be—oh right. “It’s fine—you were right… well, no, you were wrong, but…” Gun folds forward and puts his head on top of their joined hands. This devolved quickly. He shakes himself. “I’m not mad.” He lifts his head. “Are you?”

It’s Tay’s turn to quirk his head. Gun wonders if he picked that up from Tay or if Tay picked it up from him. They’ve been friends so long. “I know you worry about that a lot but you do remember that I said the mean thing, right? So why would I be?”

Gun shrugs. “For making you wait for me to reply, or because I got upset.”

“You get more upset when you dip your sleeve in sauce,” Tay points out. But in Gun’s defense his clothes are expensive.

It has Tay’s desired effect. Gun smiles. “Okay, you weren’t mad.” Gun thinks… Gun doesn’t think. But Gun takes a chance. “Have you ever been mad at me?” Tay raises an eyebrow and Gun just knows he’s about to bring up any number of times that Gun pranked him or let Off prank him. “Not like that time I let you eat the cracker from the floor. Like, really mad. Like want to punish me mad.”

Tay’s face falls into serious lines. He doesn’t tease Gun anymore. “No.” Gun remembers Tay saying, no, never, in the same tone. Gun didn’t believe in the permanence of that statement then. Maybe not yet, or, never before. But not, never.

Gun inhales. “Not even when we broke up?”

Tay squeezes Gun’s hands. “I was sad, then. And so were you.” It never really occurred to him that Tay would have cared that Gun was also unhappy about the break-up. Especially when Gun was trying to act like it was fine. “I didn’t… whatever you’re thinking. I didn’t want to hurt you.”

Gun chews on that. The thing is. The thing is that Gun has been carrying the worry ever since he realised he was gay that the slightest misstep would be the end of him. And here Tay is, who has seen Gun at his shittiest, and who clearly does get mad at Gun sometimes because Gun is petty and selfish and didn’t think about Tay’s feelings when he started dating Off—even though that was an accident. But Tay has seen him and the way he acts and has loved him and been saddened by him and gotten annoyed with him, but. That was it.

“I’m in love with Off,” Gun says.

Tay blinks, but he’s used to Gun’s random approach to conversations. Tay waits, but that’s all Gun says.

“And…?”

“I just figured it out.”

Tay bursts out laughing. This is starting to become a pattern when Gun gets into his relationship drama.

He pokes Tay. “I’m serious.” Tay stops laughing. “I’m in love with him and I don’t know what to do about it.”

“It’s probably good to love the person you’re dating?” Tay says. “And I think I’m justified at least one ‘what the fuck’ about the idea that you didn’t love him before.”

“I did, I just didn’t know it, that’s the part you were right about. It wasn’t until you said that I figured that out. And also we aren’t dating. I think. We broke up, I’m pretty sure.”

Tay rolls backwards out of his squat until his butt is on the floor and his legs are straight out in front of him. “What.”

“Which part?” Gun can explain it if he knows which bit is catching Tay up.

Tay puts up a hand. “No, I heard it, I just need a second.”

Gun waits. He’s bad at it though. With every second that goes by he can feel his brain start to vibrate inside his skull. Maybe he should check his phone.

“Gun, you know I’m your friend, but I’m also Off’s friend. If I wasn’t your friend and you told me this, I’d probably wonder what juice you were drinking. Seriously, if you were dating him and you didn’t know why he wanted to but also you didn’t think you wanted to then that’s totally wild behaviour. Completely off-the-wall. I can’t think of a world where that is a reasonable thing to do. Even if this was upside down world where we had a blue sun and a yellow sky, I’d still be like, that’s some fucked up bananas story. Extremely unfair that people describe me as a disaster when this is happening so close by.”

Gun started to get annoyed when Tay was talking but by the end of his little speech he’s laughing, pointing a finger at Tay while he does so.

“And before you ask,” Tay continues, “You’re still my friend despite all of this.”

“So you’ll help me?”

“Absolutely not,” Tay says.

Gun pouts.

“Don’t pout at me, no way I’m getting entangled in this weird-ass net you wove. In fact, if anyone asks, tell them I didn’t know anything about this. I’ll be just as surprised as the next person about whatever happens here. Probably genuinely.”

***

Tay acted like he wasn’t going to help, but he gave Gun a hug and some dumplings on his way out, so he was already doing a lot. And also he had reassured Gun a lot.

He put the dumplings in the fridge and pulled out his vitamin C serum before going into the bathroom to do his skincare. He’s been thinking about a skincare fridge but hasn’t decided yet. There’s not really space in his bedroom for it.

Gun taps serum into his under-eye area with his ring fingers.

His phone speakers are playing Getsunova because they’re recording the MV tomorrow and he wants to be familiar with the song ahead of time. He hums along to it mindlessly as he moves to his next layer of moisturiser.

He’s put this off too long.

Can you give me a ride tomorrow? He messages Off.

You’re home early Off sends back immediately.

Gun rolls his eyes. He’ll reassure Off just this once. Tay doesn’t stay up late. He sends a sleepy bear sticker along with it.

The typing bubble appears and then disappears. Gun puts on his last layer of cream.

I’ll be there at 11

***

Music video filming is always pretty chill because they don’t take sound. Sound is the hardest thing to capture and the easiest to get knocked off the rails by bad traffic or a plane flying overheard. So this shoot where they’re wandering around a greenhouse is pretty relaxing.

Which is good because Gun is having a hard time staying calm. He looked over at Off in the makeup chair, eyes closed and napkins stuffed into his collar and felt his lips buzzing with the words behind him.

They walked around the set and Gun’s knees shook a little with the effort of stopping himself from running.

Half of him wants to just blurt it out but the other half of him knows it’s a terrible idea. He’s back to trying to hold all of these things in while also act normal. Luckily he can lean on being Third, but when they change the angle or the director yells cut, then he’s back to being himself and himself is a mess.

Gun tries to make a plan. Off will drop him off, and then Gun will invite him in and if Off comes then they’ll go to Gun’s room so they don’t disturb his grandma and they’ll talk.

Instead what happens is that as soon as Off gets out of being parked and starts driving down the backstreet, Gun says, “I need to tell you something.”

Off’s hands tighten on the wheel. At the same time that Gun says, “I’m in love with you,” Off says, “You’re dating Tay again, aren’t you.”

They both look at each other for a moment before Off yanks his eyes back to the road.

Gun marvels at him. “Is this why you didn’t tell Tay we broke up?” To make Gun less available?

“We weren’t really dating,” Off says, wry. “Pretty sure both people have to want to be dating for it to count.” Gun notices that isn’t an answer, but he lets it go.

Not the whole topic, though, Gun is still stuck on this. “Why did you think I’d be dating Tay?”

Off shrugs. “Why do you do anything you do? I don’t know. You dated him before and you were smiling and you were with him last night.”

Gun can see this reasoning. “I broke up with Tay—years ago—because he was jealous of you.”

“Why?” Off is keeping his eyes on the road but Gun can feel his attention on him. And he’s not even hitting 80, which means he’s focusing hard.

“Because you come first for me. You always have.” It’s strangely easy to say all of this. Gun doesn’t know if it’s because it’s been pinging around in his head so long that it feels more like it’s escaping his mouth or if it’s because they’re driving or what. For some reason, he doesn’t feel embarrassed to say these things and he’s gone so far through fear that he’s out on the other side.

“I have to pull over,” Off says. “Don’t talk.”

Gun closes his mouth and looks out the window while Off maneuvers them off of the road and into the parking lot of a small shopping complex. Gun thinks he picked up flip flops here once when the spare set he keeps in his trunk broke a strap.

Off turns the car off. “Okay.” He exhales. “What are you trying to tell me?”

“If… if you still want to, I still want to. Date.”

Off still has one hand on the steering wheel. He’s gripping it hard enough that Gun can count the wrinkle lines on his knuckles.

“I can’t answer that,” Off says and Gun’s heart sinks, “without knowing why you offered in the first place.”

Gun squirms. He’d kind of hoped they could skip that. “I wanted to make you happy. I thought it was what you wanted.”

“How do I know you’re not still trying to give me what I want?” His voice sounds smaller than Gun has ever heard it. Off has a big personality and an even bigger voice, trained from years of MC-ing and leading events. Gun’s never heard it like this, like he has to strain to hear it even in the small confines of the car.

“Cause I’m bad at it.” Gun says. “You saw already. I was trying my hardest and couldn’t do it. You know me,” which is the terrifying thing, “I’m not good at dating or making people happy. I always work too much and spend too much time with my friends and I don’t cheat but I will give other people hugs. So. If you didn’t want to date because of all of that, I’d, I’d understand totally. But if you wanted to try then that’s what I want.” Gun waits a bare moment. “What do you think?”

“I think everyone who loved you in the past sucked a lot.” Off lets go of the steering wheel and turns to face Gun fully. “I get shitty and jealous, but when I thought we were dating I knew I’d have to cut that out because I know you love your friends and you like to party. What’s the point of dating you if I’m going to get mad at you for doing the things you’ve always done?” Gun doesn’t gasp, but it feels like his chest fills with oxygen, bright and sweeping into corners he didn’t even know were shadowed.

Gun blinks several times.

His emotions are close to the skin, which is an asset as an actor but sucks when he’s trying to have big conversations.

“What about me, though? You know me. You know I get grumpy when I’m tired and I need time alone. What happens when I snap at you or you need a hug and I don’t want to leave my apartment?”

“I already know what that’s like, and we’ve been fine.” Gun is starting to smile.

“You’re not going to freak out and try to be a perfect doll again?”

Gun shakes his head.

Off gets serious again. “I know you were worried we won’t last and everything will fall apart. Are you sure you’re over that?”

Gun debates how to answer. The truth is that he isn’t over that. There’s still a corner of his heart that is an ice chip of fear. This could go extremely badly. This could be the type of crash he doesn’t walk away from. History amplifies that fear and tells him that it’s most likely. But Tay’s existence reminds him that things can end without leaving him without key pieces of himself. And Jennie’s words force him to ask himself about the other things he’s giving up if he doesn’t try.

“I don’t know the future,” Gun says, pulling his feet up so he can kneel on the seat to face Off. “But I know that when we were apart I missed you. Even when you were acting friendly, I wanted what we had. However things might go, it’s not worth missing any of our time together to avoid it.” Off’s eyes are locked on his, infinitely dark. “Besides, I hear I’m incredibly obvious, so it’s not like I’ve had any deniability before now. Why not get kisses out of it?”

Off laughs. He leans in, at the last second stopping himself and turning to face the front. “Buckle up,” he says.

Gun unfolds his feet and does it. “Why?”

“I need you back at my apartment, right now.” Off starts the car.

Gun thrills. “Maybe you could fuck me on all fours this time? I get great leverage that way.”

Off swallows. “If you want us to get there safely, don’t distract me.” He pulls out so sharp that Gun grips the handle above the window to avoid sliding in his seat.

“But where’s the fun in playing it safe?” Gun asks, and slides his right hand onto Off’s thigh.

“I’ve unleashed a menace,” Off grumbles.

Gun laughs and looks forward.