LONGTIME

For three years, the unspoken rhythm between them had stayed firmly behind closed doors.

It was a delicate, suffocating architecture that JJ had built out of sheer self-preservation. When they had tumbled into Net’s apartment after a drunken night out before their freshman year even started, JJ had woken up to sunlight, a pounding headache, and the terrifying realization that he had crossed an irreversible line with the one boy he had secretly loved for months. Net was incandescent—a theatre major in the making, charming without trying, the kind of person who collected people simply by existing. Terrified of becoming just another casual casualty in Net’s orbit, JJ had panicked, gathered his clothes, and fled.

When he returned days later, he put up a fortress before Net could break his heart. He offered an arrangement: friends with benefits. Strictly physical. No strings attached, no public acknowledgment, no messy feelings.

JJ thought he was being clever, using the arrangement to keep Net near while protecting his own fragile heart. He never suspected that Net, who had loved him quietly and desperately for just as long, only agreed because having JJ under false pretenses was better than not having him at all.

So they played strangers in the sun and lovers in the dark. In public, JJ stayed tucked away in the music building with his headphones around his neck, keeping to his small sanctuary of friends—Namping, Kim, and Ohm. Net dominated the campus lawns and theatre auditoriums, flanked by Keng and Latte, turning heads with every laugh. If their paths crossed near the campus courtyard, JJ looked right through him, and Net dutifully looked away.

Until their third year, when Net decided he was done waiting for their fragile illusion to shatter on someone else’s terms.

It began on a sweltering Tuesday afternoon. JJ was sitting under the shaded pavilions behind the music building, his notebook open as he tried to clean up a chord progression. A shadow blocked his light, followed by the clinking sound of a condensation-slick plastic cup being dropped onto his desk.

"Iced Americano, one pump of classic syrup," Net said, leaning over the back of the bench. He had a brilliant, infuriating smile plastered across his face. "You look like you're about to murder that notebook."

JJ froze, his heart slamming into his ribs. He looked up, his knuckles white around his pencil. "What are you doing here?"

"Buying coffee for someone cute," Net replied smoothly, resting his chin on JJ’s shoulder from behind.

Panic flared bright and hot under JJ’s skin. He shoved Net’s face away with the flat of his hand, glancing frantically across the courtyard. "Go away. People are looking."

"Let them look," Net said cheerfully, catching JJ’s wrist and brushing a thumb over his pulse point before letting go. "Drink the coffee, JJ. Your notes are sounding a little flat."

From that day on, Net became a relentless phantom.

He materialized everywhere JJ tried to hide. When JJ was struggling to carry a heavy synthesizer amplifier across the lawn, Net seamlessly stepped in, effortlessly lifting the heavy gear onto his shoulder while winking at a group of gaping freshmen.

"I didn't ask for your help," JJ hissed through gritted teeth, jogging to keep up.

"You didn't have to," Net shot back, completely unbothered. "You're too pretty to throw out your back."

When JJ sat with his friends in the central cafeteria, Net would casually stop by their table on his way out, tap JJ's shoulder, and slide a packet of grape gummies across the surface.

"For your blood sugar," Net had said loud enough for everyone to hear, flashing that blinding, public-favorite grin before walking off with Keng and Latte.

"Since when do you know Net Siraphop?" Namping had asked, his eyes wide as he stared at the candy, then at JJ.

"I don't," JJ said immediately, his voice sharp to disguise the violent thumping in his chest. "He has the wrong person. He’s just annoying."

"He called you by name, bro," Ohm pointed out, squinting. "And he knew what gummies you like."

JJ tore the wrapper with excessive force. "He's just messing around."

Across the courtyard, Latte was grilling Net with equal suspicion. "Since when do you talk to the quiet music kids?"

Net had only smiled into his drink, entirely unbothered. "He's not just any music kid."

The charade stretched for two agonizing weeks until JJ finally reached his breaking point.

The lock clicked open, and JJ slammed the door to Net’s apartment shut behind him, breathing heavily. Net was sitting on the rug by the coffee table, a script in his lap, looking infuriatingly relaxed in an oversized grey T-shirt.

"What is your problem?" JJ demanded, throwing his backpack onto the entryway floor. "Are you out of your mind? Do you know what people are saying? Everyone’s asking questions! You broke the rules. We had a deal, Net!"

Net slowly set his script aside. He didn't offer his usual playful grin. Instead, he rose to his feet, closing the distance between them with slow, deliberate steps until JJ was backed against the front door.

"Net, back off," JJ muttered, though his voice wavered under the sudden intensity in Net's dark eyes.

"I don't want to back off," Net said softly. His defense mechanism—the bright charm, the effortless flirting—fell away like stage makeup. "I'm tired of the deal, JJ. I’m sick of pretending I don't know you when you're three feet away from me. I'm sick of watching you walk past me like I'm a ghost."

"We agreed—"

"I don't care what we agreed to three years ago!" Net’s voice cracked, raw and exposed. He invaded JJ's space, planting his hands against the wood on either side of JJ’s head. "I agreed because I thought it was the only way I could keep you. Because I thought if I didn't say yes, you'd run away and never look back. But I'm miserable, JJ. I can't keep pretending this is just casual sex when I've been in love with you since before we even set foot on this damn campus."

JJ's breath caught in his throat. His sharp retorts withered into dust. "Net..."

"I love you," Net said, his eyes glassy, his chest heaving as if he had just run a marathon. He looked completely unraveled, stripping away every ounce of pride he had. "And if you tell me to get lost right now, if you tell me that you truly don't want this, I will. I'll leave you alone. I'll stop following you. But please... just give me a chance. Let me be your boyfriend. Please."

Net squeezed his eyes shut, bracing for the impact of rejection, waiting for the sound of the door opening and JJ bolting again.

Instead, a pair of arms wrapped tightly around his waist.

Net gasped as JJ buried his face against Net's shoulder, holding him with a frantic, trembling grip.

"You idiot," JJ choked out into Net’s collarbone, his fingers digging into the fabric of Net’s shirt. "You absolute idiot."

Net stood frozen for a second before his hands came up, clutching JJ’s back like a lifeline. "JJ?"

"I thought you were a player," JJ whispered, his voice muffled by tears he refused to let fall. "The first night... I panicked because I was already in love with you, and I couldn't bear being just another body in your bed. I made the deal so you wouldn't throw me away." He pulled back just enough to glare at Net, his eyes shining, his cheeks dusted crimson. "I've been in love with you this whole time, you blind fool."

Net stared at him, stunned into silence, before letting out a wet, breathless laugh. He framed JJ’s face with both hands, thumbing over his cheekbones. "So we wasted three years being scared?"

"Shut up," JJ mumbled.

Net kissed him then, deep and desperate, with all the tenderness he had been hoarding in the dark for three long years.

They decided to keep it between them for a little while longer—not out of fear, but because it felt sacred to finally have each other without the shadows. At school, Net still teased him, and JJ still scowled, but the anger had melted into quiet fondness, hidden behind shared glances across crowded rooms.

Then came the mid-semester music and arts festival.

It was an open-air event on the university grounds. Fairy lights hung from the trees, bass thumped from temporary stages, and alcohol flowed freely under the relaxed supervision of student council members. By midnight, the campus was buzzing with drunken camaraderie.

Near the eastern courtyard, tucked behind the sound booths, Net was leaning against a wooden bench, a red plastic cup in his hand. JJ was beside him, utterly exhausted. The combination of three light beers and days of rehearsals had caught up to him.

Without thinking, his inhibitions eroded by the alcohol and the quiet intimacy of the corner, JJ slumped sideways, wrapping both arms around Net’s waist and resting his cheek against Net's chest. He let out a soft, sleepy sigh, entirely unguarded.

Net didn't push him away. Instead, his entire demeanor softened. He dropped his cup, wrapped an arm around JJ's shoulders to pull him closer against the night chill, and rested his chin atop JJ's messy hair. His gaze was hopelessly fond, his eyes bright with gentle adoration as JJ fought off sleep against his collarbone.

A flash went off twenty feet away.

Neither of them noticed.

By three in the morning, the campus photography society had dumped an album of festival candid shots onto the university's central student board and social media pages.

By four in the morning, photo number forty-seven had hundreds of shares.

The lighting was cinematic—warm string lights framing the silhouette of Net, the theatre department’s undisputed crown prince, looking at the boy in his arms like he hung the stars. And the boy in question was JJ, the notoriously aloof, unapproachable music major, clinging to Net like a koala, looking softer than anyone on campus had ever seen him.

The comments were an avalanche.

[@theatre_club_tea]: IS THAT NET SIRAPHOP??? WHO IS HE HOLDING??? [@chords_and_chaos]: wait wait wait isn't that JJ from 3rd year contemporary music???? JJ DOES NOT HUG PEOPLE. [@campuscandids]: The way Net is looking at him... you guys they are not just friends. I repeat, THEY ARE NOT JUST FRIENDS. [@nampingg]: ...what the actual fuck.

Back in Net’s apartment, the curtains were drawn tight against the morning sun.

JJ was sprawled across the mattress, completely out cold, with Net tangled beside him. On the nightstand, phones were vibrating relentlessly, skittering across the wooden surface like angry hornets.

Net groaned, squinting through the brutal haze of a hangover. He reached out blindly, his hand patting the nightstand until his fingers curled around a phone.

He didn't realize it was JJ's.

Net held it up to his face. The screen flashed, recognized Net’s registered Face ID, and unlocked instantly into a barrage of notifications. Net squinted through one eye, his brain functioning at five percent capacity.

A group chat called [Soundboard Idiots] was blowing up with dozens of unread messages.

Kim: JJ where are you? Ohm: We went to your dorm. Your roommate said you didn't sleep there. Namping: Send your location right now. We saw the photo. You are NOT avoiding this today. Kim: SEND LOCATION.

Net, barely conscious and entirely on autopilot, saw the words send location. Without reading anything else or looking at the names, he tapped the plus icon, hit Share Current Location, pressed send, and dropped the phone back onto the table.

He pulled JJ closer to his chest, buried his face in JJ's neck, and fell back asleep.

Two hours later, the smell of burnt toast gently roused the apartment.

JJ had dragged himself out of bed first, his hair sticking up in all directions, clad in a pair of Net’s sweatpants. Net was standing by the stove in shorts, stirring a pot of instant noodle soup, smiling softly as JJ shuffled into the kitchen and leaned his forehead against Net’s shoulder blade.

"Head hurt?" Net asked gently, reaching back to stroke JJ’s arm.

"A little," JJ mumbled. "Toast is burning."

"It's not burning, it's just—"

BANG. BANG. BANG.

The front door shook on its hinges.

JJ jumped, his eyes flying open. "What was that?"

BANG. BANG. BANG.

"Net Siraphop, open this goddamn door!" Latte’s voice bellowed through the wood.

"Radchapon, we know you’re in there, your pin is directly on this unit!" Namping’s voice roared right after.

JJ turned pale. "Did... did Namping just say my name?"

Net froze, a wooden spoon hovering in the air. A sudden, terrible flash of memory hit him—reaching for a buzzing phone, tapping a map pin. "Oh. Oh no."

"What did you do?" JJ whispered, horror dawning on his face.

Before Net could answer, the door handle rattled furiously, and since Net had forgotten to throw the deadbolt, the door flew wide open.

A stampede marched into the entryway.

Keng and Latte led the charge from the theatre side, both wide-eyed and holding their phones like weapons. Right on their heels were Namping, Kim, and Ohm, looking like a rescue team that had just discovered a crime scene.

"JJ!" Namping shouted, marching straight past Net and grabbing JJ by the forearm. "You're alive! And—why are you wearing clothes three sizes too big for you?!"

"What the hell is going on?" JJ gasped, stumbling backward as Kim and Ohm flanked him.

"You're sitting down," Ohm declared, steering JJ toward the sofa. "Both of you. Sit."

"Wait, why are you guys here?" Net protested, but Latte grabbed him by the scruff of his shirt and shoved him down onto the couch right next to JJ.

All five friends stood in a semicircular firing squad in the small living room.

"Explain," Keng commanded, thrusting his phone directly into Net's face.

The screen was displaying the festival photo in high definition. There they were, bathed in golden fairy lights, looking utterly, indisputably in love.

JJ felt all the blood rush straight to his ears. He instinctively pulled his knees to his chest and looked at the floorboards, refusing to meet anyone's eyes.

"We saw the picture at dawn," Latte crossed his arms, glaring at Net. "Then we tried to call you, you didn't pick up. We ran into these guys outside the music hall looking like they were ready to file a missing person's report."

"And then JJ miraculously sent a live location pin to our group chat!" Namping threw his hands in the air, pointing an accusing finger at JJ. "A pin that led straight to this building! To this apartment! Are you dating? Are you sleeping together? Since when do you two even speak to each other?!"

"Wait, you sent the pin?" JJ whipped his head around to glare at Net.

Net offered a sheepish, apologetic wince. "I thought it was my phone, babe. I was half-asleep."

The room went dead silent.

"Did you just call him babe?" Kim whispered, his eyes practically bugging out of his head.

JJ buried his face in his hands, letting out a long, agonized groan. "I want to disappear."

Net looked at JJ’s crimson ears, then at the circle of their closest friends who were looking between them like their heads were about to explode. The fear that had kept him quiet for years was nowhere to be found. Instead, a quiet, resolute warmth settled in his chest.

Net reached out, gently prying one of JJ’s hands away from his face and weaving their fingers together in plain view. JJ stiffened, but he didn't pull away.

"Yes," Net said clearly, meeting his friends' eyes one by one. "We're dating."

"How long?" Latte demanded, his jaw dropping. "Net, you literally told me two weeks ago you just thought he was interesting!"

"We've been seeing each other for three years," Net admitted, his voice softening. Beside him, JJ squeezed his hand tightly, still staring resolutely at the coffee table, too stubborn and embarrassed to speak. "We kept it casual for a long time because we were both cowards. But we made it official a few weeks ago. He's my boyfriend."

Namping stared at JJ, who was turning progressively darker shades of red. "JJ? Is this true?"

JJ swallowed hard, his gaze shifting to the side. "Yes," he mumbled, barely audible. "It's true."

For three agonizing seconds, no one moved.

Then, Keng let out a deafening whoop that shook the apartment walls.

"I KNEW IT!" Latte roared, throwing his arms in the air. "I told you! No one buys grape gummies for someone they 'just want to annoy'!"

"Three years?!" Ohm yelled, grabbing Kim by the shoulders and shaking him violently. "Three years, JJ! We thought you were a monk! We were worried about your social development!"

"He bagged the most famous guy on campus and kept him in his pocket for three years," Namping cackled, clapping his hands together in absolute delight. "Radchapon, you terrifying genius!"

The room erupted into laughter, cheers, and playful shove-matches as their friends swarmed the couch, ruffling JJ’s hair and clapping Net on the back.

Amidst the chaos and shouting, JJ finally looked up. He caught Net watching him, that same fond, incandescent look in his eyes that had been captured in the photograph for the whole school to see.

JJ rolled his eyes, his cheeks still burning, but this time, he didn't pull away. He just smiled, leaned his shoulder against Net’s, and let the whole world in.