Again?

The morning air at the university was usually thick with the scent of iced coffee and the sound of hurried footsteps, but today, it was thick with something else: scrutiny.

JJ felt the shift the moment he stepped off his motorbike. Groups of students who usually ignored him were huddled over their phones, their eyes darting from their screens to his face and back again. He adjusted the strap of his guitar case, his expression hardening into its usual mask of indifference. He knew that look. It was the look of people who had just consumed a very juicy piece of information.

By the time he reached the music faculty lounge, his friends were already waiting. Ohm, Kim, and Namping were practically vibrating with suppressed energy.

"JJ," Ohm started, holding up his phone like it was a holy relic. "Care to explain why you’re trending on the university’s confession page?"

JJ didn't even look at the screen. He knew what it was. A friend had sent him a screenshot at 2:00 AM. It was a photo from their high school yearbook—a candid shot taken in the library. In it, JJ was asleep on a pile of textbooks, and Net was leaning over him, resting his chin on his hand, looking at JJ with an expression so tender it was borderline embarrassing. The caption read: Spotted: The ice prince of Music and the star of Theatre. Turns out, 'strangers' is a very loose term.

"We dated," JJ said flatly, setting his case down. "In high school. It ended. Can we go to practice now?"

Kim choked on his drink. "‘We dated’? Just like that? JJ, that’s Net Siraphop. The guy who has half the campus chasing him. You’ve been acting like he’s a ghost for two years!"

"We had an agreement," JJ replied, his voice clipping short. "If we went to the same university, we’d act like we didn’t know each other. It was easier that way. It’s not a big deal."

"Not a big deal?" Namping squeaked. "JJ, he’s looking at you in that photo like you’re the only person in the world! And you’re telling us it’s not a big deal?"

JJ turned his back on them, fiddling with his tuner. "It’s in the past. Leave it there."

Across campus in the Theatre Arts building, the atmosphere was entirely different.

"He was so cute back then!" Net exclaimed, leaning over Latte’s shoulder to look at the same post. A dreamy, far-off look had taken residence in his eyes. "Actually, he’s cuter now. His jawline got sharper, don’t you think? But back then, he used to let me share his earphones during lunch. He’d complain about my taste in pop music, but he never actually took the earbud out."

Latte and Keng exchanged a look of pure bewilderment. They were used to Net being charismatic and flirtatious, but this was a version of him they’d never seen—a man completely undone by a single photograph.

"Net, focus," Keng said, poking his arm. "You two literally walk past each other in the cafeteria every Tuesday and don't even nod. We thought you hated him!"

"Hate him?" Net laughed, a bright, melodic sound that drew eyes from across the hallway. "I could never hate JJ. I was just being a good boy and following the rules. He wanted to be strangers, so I gave him what he wanted. But now..." Net tapped the screen of the phone, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "The secret is out. I don't have to be a stranger anymore."

"Oh no," Latte whispered. "You’re going to be a menace, aren't you?"

"I’m going to be a delight," Net corrected, beaming.

The "delight" began an hour later.

JJ was sitting in the courtyard, trying to focus on a complex arrangement of chords, when a shadow fell over his sheet music. He didn't have to look up to know who it was. The scent of expensive cologne and the sudden hush of the nearby tables gave it away.

"I think you missed a flat in the third measure, JJ-kun," Net said, his voice dripping with playful sweetness.

JJ looked up, his eyes narrowing. "Don't call me that. And I didn't miss anything. Go away, Net."

Net didn't move. Instead, he sat down on the bench directly opposite JJ, leaning forward so their knees almost touched. "Everyone’s talking about us. Did you see the post? I think I look a bit chubby in that photo, but you look like an angel. A very grumpy, sleepy angel."

"It’s an old photo," JJ said, his voice low and dangerous. "It means nothing. We have a deal."

"The deal was predicated on us being anonymous," Net pointed out, resting his chin in his palms. "We aren't anonymous anymore. The cat is out of the bag. The bird has flown the coop. The—"

"The annoyance is sitting right in front of me," JJ finished, slamming his folder shut. He stood up and began walking toward the library.

"I’ll see you at the cafe later!" Net called out, waving enthusiastically as students watched the exchange with bated breath. "I remember you like your Americano with exactly half a pump of syrup!"

JJ didn't look back, but his ears were burning a bright, betraying red.

For the next three days, Net was everywhere.

When JJ went to the recording studio, Net was there "helping a friend with a voiceover." When JJ tried to hide in the furthest corner of the lawn, Net would "accidentally" trip over his legs while carrying two cups of coffee.

"You're stalking me," JJ hissed one afternoon when Net appeared in the music building’s private practice wing.

"Stalking is such a harsh word," Net teased, leaning against the doorframe of the practice room. "I prefer 'serendipitous intersecting.' Besides, I have a rehearsal in Room 4B. I just happened to hear someone playing a very lonely-sounding piano and thought, 'That must be my JJ.'"

"I am not your JJ," JJ snapped, though his heart hammered against his ribs.

Net’s smile softened, just for a second. The teasing mask slipped, revealing a flicker of something raw and aching. "You were once. And you never told me I couldn't try to win you back if the secret got out."

JJ felt a lump form in his throat. He turned back to the piano, his fingers hitting a discordant note. "Go to your rehearsal, Net."

Net lingered for a heartbeat longer before retreating, his footsteps echoing down the hall.

The breaking point came on Friday evening. The sun was setting, painting the campus in hues of bruised purple and gold. JJ had stayed late in the rehearsal hall, the silence of the building finally giving him room to breathe. He sat on the edge of the stage, his guitar resting against his thigh, staring at the empty rows of seats.

He heard the heavy doors at the back of the hall creak open. He didn't turn around. He knew the rhythm of those footsteps.

Net walked down the aisle and stopped at the foot of the stage. He didn't say anything funny. He didn't make a joke about the yearbook or the gossip. He just stood there, looking up at JJ.

"What are you doing, Net?" JJ asked, his voice echoing in the vast space. It sounded tired. "What do you actually want?"

Net hopped up onto the edge of the stage, sitting a few feet away from JJ. He looked out at the empty hall, his usual bravado nowhere to be found.

"I want to stop pretending," Net said quietly. "I’ve spent two years walking past you like you were a statue in a museum. I’ve watched you grow up, watched you get better at music, watched you make new friends—all from a distance because that’s what you asked for. I thought if I played along, eventually the feeling would go away."

JJ looked at his hands, his knuckles white as he gripped the neck of his guitar. "You made it look so easy. You’re always smiling, always talking to everyone. I thought... I thought I was the only one who was still stuck."

Net let out a short, dry laugh. "JJ, I’m an actor. That’s my major. I’m very good at pretending I’m okay. But every time I saw you, it felt like someone was stepping on my chest. I only agreed to the 'strangers' thing because I knew how much you hated the drama back in high school. I loved you enough to let you have your peace. But I never stopped loving you."

The honesty of the statement hit JJ like a physical blow. He looked at Net, really looked at him, and saw the exhaustion behind the sparkle. He realized then that his demand for silence hadn't just been about peace—it had been a defense mechanism born of fear. He had been so afraid that Net would move on faster than him that he’d demanded they not try at all.

"I was selfish," JJ whispered.

Net shook his head. "You were hurt. We were young."

"I missed you," JJ admitted, the words feeling heavy and strange after so long. "Every time I saw you on campus, I wanted to say something. But I was the one who made the rule. I didn't think I had the right to break it."

Net moved closer, his hand hovering over JJ’s on the stage floor. "You always had the right. You’re the only one who has the key, JJ."

JJ looked down at Net’s hand, then slowly slid his own over until their fingers intertwined. The contact felt like a circuit closing, a rush of warmth that he hadn't realized he’d been missing for years.

"I still have feelings for you," JJ said, his voice steadying. "A lot of them. It’s annoying."

Net chuckled, his thumb brushing against JJ’s knuckles. "I can live with annoying. Does this mean the 'strangers' rule is officially dead?"

"It’s dead," JJ confirmed. He leaned his head against Net’s shoulder, a long-overdue sigh escaping him. "But if you keep teasing me in front of the whole school, I might reinstate it."

"No promises," Net whispered, kissing the top of JJ’s head. "I have two years of flirting to make up for."

The next morning, the university’s social media landscape shifted once again.

Net Siraphop, a man who usually posted polished headshots and aesthetic cafe photos, uploaded a two-slide post that sent the campus into a frenzy.

The first photo was a grainy, never-before-seen shot from high school: Net and JJ sitting on a rooftop, sharing a single bag of chips, their shoulders pressed together.

The second photo was taken in the dim light of the rehearsal hall. It was a selfie, slightly blurry, showing Net beaming at the camera while JJ tried to hide his face against Net’s neck, though a visible, genuine smile was tugging at the corner of JJ’s mouth.

The caption read: I finally caught him! 🏆 After two years of playing hide-and-seek, the most talented, beautiful, and stubborn man in the world has officially agreed to be mine again. Sorry to everyone who had a crush on me, but I’ve been taken since 2020—I just had to wait for my boyfriend to realize it. I am the luckiest man in the universe! Love you, JJ! ❤️✨🎸

JJ sat in the music lounge, his phone buzzing incessantly. He scrolled through the comments, his face heating up.

Latte_Real: FINALLY. I couldn't take another day of Net moping in the dressing room. Congrats, lovebirds!

Ohm_Music: So... does this mean we have to hang out with the theatre kids now? JJ, blink twice if you’re being held hostage by his charms.

Keng_K: Net, you sound like you won the lottery. Calm down.

Net_Siraphop: I DID win the lottery! The JJ lottery!

Campus_Gossip_Official: The yearbook mystery is solved! We’re officially stanning.

JJ sighed, a small, private smile playing on his lips. He tapped the comment box on Net’s post. He wasn't a man of many words, especially not in public, but he owed him this much.

JJ_Radchapon: You’re so loud. See you at lunch.

Within seconds, the comment had five hundred likes. Net’s reply came almost instantly.

Net_Siraphop: I’ll bring the half-pump syrup Americano! Love you! 😘😘😘

JJ tucked his phone away, ignored his friends’ hollering, and picked up his guitar. For the first time in two years, the music he played didn't sound lonely at all.