“If you don’t smile, I’m docking your pay.”

The voice was soft but unmistakably firm, right next to Phaayu’s ear. He turned sharply to glare at the speaker, brows furrowed in irritation—until he saw the face behind the voice and let out a long sigh.

It was his first official day on the “job” as Thee’s fake boyfriend.

Thee—Mr. Engineering Faculty Heartthrob, known for his cool looks and colder attitude—stood beside him, calm and unfazed in his perfectly pressed navy-blue workshop jacket. His slightly tousled hair looked effortlessly stylish, and those sharp eyes beneath thick lashes seemed to pierce through people even when he wasn’t trying.

Phaayu, arms crossed tightly across his chest, stood in front of the main lecture hall, a three-story cream-colored building buzzing with students rushing in all directions. Thee’s voice somehow cut through the chaos like the rest of the world had gone silent.

“I’m not some clown, okay,” Phaayu muttered under his breath, suddenly aware of how self-conscious he felt. Today marked the start of their “performance,” and it was already making him uncomfortable.

“I’m paying you to be my boyfriend, not to stand there like a damn light post,” Thee shot back, flashing a smug little smirk. Then, without warning, he reached out and grabbed Phaayu’s hand.

His hand was warm—much bigger than Phaayu’s—and his fingers interlocked with his so naturally that Phaayu didn’t dare pull away.

Immediately, the whispers began.

“Is that Thee’s boyfriend?”

“Didn’t he show up alone yesterday?”

“Since when are they a thing?”

Some students stared. Others sneakily took pictures. A few even walked by and deliberately turned to glance again. But Thee didn’t flinch. He kept holding Phaayu’s hand like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Then, as casually as ever, Thee pulled out a snack from his bag and handed it to him.

“Eat. You like this one, don’t you?”

Phaayu blinked, dumbfounded. It was his favorite wafer—same brand, same flavor. The one he always bought from the shop near his apartment.

“How’d you know I like this?” he asked, voice low, but with a tinge of genuine surprise.

Thee didn’t answer. Just shrugged and walked into the building, still holding his hand the entire time.

…

At lunch, they sat together at a table beneath the Business Faculty building—part of the “fake couple routine” they’d agreed on. Phaayu had to act cozy, laugh on cue, lean on Thee’s shoulder when he giggled, even sneak glances and smile when people walked past.

And he was good at it. Too good, maybe. His friends began teasing relentlessly.

“You two are so sweet it’s disgusting!”

But as he sat beside Thee, laughing on cue, something strange stirred inside him.

Thee was looking at him—not with that usual guarded indifference—but with something softer. Gentler. Like he wasn’t watching a performance, but something real.

Phaayu’s smile faltered.

“Am I the only one acting?” he wondered. His heart started beating faster from that moment on.

…

That evening, Thee walked him home. They stopped under a large pink trumpet tree near the apartment entrance. The golden sunset lit the falling petals like a scene straight out of a romance film.

Phaayu chuckled, turning to face Thee.

“Guess I’ll dream of you tonight—helps with the roleplay, right?”

Thee went quiet for a second. He looked straight at Phaayu, eyes unreadable, before replying softly but clearly,

“Dream of me all you want. Just don’t wake up with real feelings.”

Time stopped for Phaayu. His heart skipped hard in his chest. He couldn’t tell if Thee was teasing… or warning him.

But the look in Thee’s eyes said more than the words ever could.

Phaayu swallowed hard.

He didn’t know anymore if he was still “acting,”
or if he’d already started slipping out of the script.

He’d always thought he was good at pretending.

But maybe—just maybe—Thee was even better at it.