The early morning sun streamed into the café,
casting golden rays onto the kintsugi bowls neatly aligned on the shelf.
The place hadn't opened yet, but the quiet hum of the fridge and the faint scent of roasted beans filled the air.
But what took over the quiet and peaceful place were the brilliant flashes of camera lights and screams that echoed from Pond's phone.
"And that was Phuwin's latest award-winning performance!"
"Yet again Phuwin bagged the grand prize for 'Actor of the Year' this time too!"
"His latest movie is shattering records! He's currently the most followed and trending actor on all social media platforms!"
"Truly a rising star of this generation!"
The live interview had taken over every news channel and streaming platform. Social media buzzed with hashtags: #PhuwinNation, #GoldenBoy, #IrisAward.
And yet, in the tiny café on the quieter side of the city, one person sat still, his eyes wide with admiration and a not-so-subtle sparkle of fanboy devotion.
Pond leaned over the counter, chin resting on his palm as he watched Phuwin speak on-screen, effortlessly charming everyone with his gentle smile and soft-spoken elegance.
"I think art has a way of healing us. Even if it's just for a few moments... it reminds us we're still alive."
Phuwin smiled at the interviewer, his soft voice echoing with quiet strength. His eyes-deep, expressive, almost fragile-held stories that never made it to the headlines.
Clad in a tailored cream suit, answered with a modest laugh,
"It still feels like a dream. I'm grateful for everyone who believed in me...
I want to use this moment to remind people: your past doesn't define you. Your scars don't make you weak-they make you real."
The words hit Pond deeper than he expected. He stared at the screen, momentarily lost..
He finally let out a deep sigh,
"How can someone be this real and still look like they walked out of a fairytale..."
"Should I be jealous?" came a calm voice behind him.
Pond jolted, nearly knocking over a tray of macarons.
"Yotha! Don't sneak up like that!"
Pond cleared his throat, cheeks burning.
"Anyway... just reminding you-I'll be leaving early today. Got... an important errand."
Yotha raised a brow. "Hmm. An 'errand'? To the grand fanmeet of one Phuwin Chimsiri at 3 p.m., Hall 7 of Royal Dome? Fancy 'errand' that is."
Pond gawked. "H-How do you know?! Have you been stalking me?!"
Yotha gave a rare smirk. "You wear your excitement like a neon sign. You've been talking about it in your sleep."
Pond gasped, scandalized. "You eavesdrop?!"
"Hard not to when your snoring turns into love confessions," Yotha replied dryly
Caught red-handed, Pond scratched the back of his neck. "Okay... maybe. But I'll be back before closing."
Yotha didn't press. Instead, he gave a rare amused smile, a flicker of warmth in his otherwise impassive expression.
"I doubt that. Anyway, don't faint when you meet him. I won't come to get you."
"No promises," Pond grinned, already grabbing his bag.
Confused, Yotha asked, "Isn't the fanmeet afternoon? Where are you rushing to now?"
"Gotta look presentable in front of my idol! I have to go shopping! Take care of the café, Mr. Ice King!"
"Wait!! Pond you can't-" Yotha yelled as Pond swiftly ran out.
"That little Brat!" he mumbled as he walked towards the counter.
AT THE ROYAL DOME: Phuwin's Fanmeet
The venue was bursting with excitement.
Bright banners waved above, fans squealed with joy, and camera phones glittered like stars under the overhead lights. The fanmeet was being held in a luxurious event hall, decorated in silver and royal blue-Phuwin's official fan colors.
Pond stood among the crowd, slightly breathless, his staff apron hastily crumpled in his bag. He wasn't in café mode anymore. He was here-in Phuwin's world.
He clutched a small, neatly wrapped gift box with trembling hands. It wasn't fancy-just something simple, handpicked. Something real.
A collective gasp rippled through the audience. And there he was.
Phuwin entered with a smile so radiant the room practically dimmed in comparison.
He waved, bowed slightly, and greeted fans with his usual grace.
But there was a gentleness today, a weight behind his eyes that Pond noticed instantly.
Phuwin smiled and answered questions, signed posters, and laughed at fans' sweet confessions-but then came the photo session.
Pond stood frozen in line, heart pounding.
When his turn finally came, he stepped forward-hands slightly clammy, yet eyes unwavering.
Phuwin turned to him with a dazzling smile, the kind he gave hundreds of times that day.
"Hi! What's your name?"
But instead of squealing or fumbling, Pond looked at him-truly looked at him.
"...Are you alright?" he asked softly.
Phuwin blinked.
"There are dark circles under your eyes," Pond continued, tone low but warm. "Your lids are swollen, like... like you've cried all night."
For a moment, time suspended.
Of all the smiles and rehearsed greetings, of all the gifts and declarations of love, not one person had said that.
Not one noticed what Phuwin tried so hard to hide behind his well-practiced grin.
His lips parted, stunned-but before he could speak, a staff member politely ushered Pond forward.
Phuwin turned his head as Pond walked away, gaze lingering. His smile had faded-but not from offense. From realization.
That wasn't the gaze of a fan.
That was someone who saw him.
He was hard to miss in a crowd-taller than most, sculpted like an artist's daydream, with a face that felt oddly familiar...With eyes full of honest wonder and a voice so deep and rich it sent shivers up his spine, Pond didn't feel like a fan. He felt like someone meant to matter.
The fanmeet had gone off beautifully.
Later that evening...
Phuwin stepped out the back door of the venue, his cap pulled low and coat zipped up to avoid attention. He wanted just a moment of peace. A breath.
But fate had other plans.
Footsteps followed.
Then came whispers.
Then came shouts.
Three girls from earlier had slipped past the guards and now raced behind him, wild-eyed and desperate.
"P'Phuwin! Wait!"
"Just one selfie!"
"Don't run from us! Why are you so rude?!"
Panic kicked in. Phuwin turned into a side alley, breathing hard-but the footsteps grew louder.
'You can't run away from me(demonic laugh in the background taunting him)
Where do you think you can run off to?'
Phuwin covered his ears. His trauma bounced back haunting him with words he could never take away from his mind
And then-
A strong hand grabbed his wrist and yanked him behind a wall of crates. He was about to scream-
"Shh!Don't scream!"
Phuwin looked up.
A tall man with jet-black hair that framed his sharply defined features-like a protagonist drawn straight out of a shoujo anime. His deep-set eyes carried both warmth and intensity, and his voice-low, velvety, and calm-had the power to quiet a room or melt hearts, depending on how he used it.
It was Pond. Holding Phuwin in his arms gently. And all of a sudden Phuwin's trauma faded away.
His voice was soft but firm.
"Stay quiet."
The girls' voices passed by, growing distant.
Phuwin's heart raced, his chest brushing slightly against Pond's as they remained hidden.
The grip on his wrist loosened into something gentler. But Phuwin didn't pull himself back instead he felt safe in Pond's warmth.
"Are you okay now?" Pond asked, barely above a whisper, yet warm and grounding.
Phuwin's eyes widened. "Uh, uh yeah...you... again?"
Pond gave a small, lopsided smile.
"You're easy to recognize when you glow like that."
Phuwin laughed quietly, more from disbelief than humor. "You followed me?"
"No.Just... wrong place, right time," Pond replied, his eyes searching Phuwin's face.
"...Or maybe it's the other way around."
For a long beat, they stayed like that-huddled in a sliver of quiet amidst a chaotic world.
Something had just changed.
Forever.
"I wasn't following you, I swear." Pond said hastily.
Phuwin didn't move.
He just looked at him. "So, what then? Coincidence?"
Pond's expression softened. "Maybe fate."
A tiny breath escaped Phuwin's lips. He didn't laugh. Not this time.
"You're not like the others," he said quietly.
Pond shrugged slightly. "I'm not trying to be."
Phuwin tilted his head, voice barely above a whisper.
"Then why are you here?"
The question hung heavy between them.
Pond's gaze didn't waver.
"Because I saw something in your eyes back there. Something tired. Something sad. Something I... recognize."
Phuwin's breath caught. He looked away, then back, searching Pond's face as if he were reading a language only he could understand.
"I don't let people see that," Phuwin whispered, more to himself than to Pond.
"I've spent years hiding it."
"You don't have to with me," Pond said, gently.
A long pause. Phuwin stared at Pond blankly, he had no idea why or how the words he's been keeping to himself for years slipped from his mouth near Pond at an instant.
A cold breeze drifted through the alleyway. Phuwin pulled his coat tighter instinctively, but Pond, noticing, reached to adjust the collar gently around his neck.
"You need to take better care of yourself," Pond said, not scolding-just quietly concerned.
"I don't have anyone to remind me of that," Phuwin admitted. "Not really."
"Well," Pond said, his fingers brushing briefly against Phuwin's wrist, "maybe now you do."
They stood there for a while, in silence.
And in that small pocket of time and space, something rare unfolded-not the artificial bond between star and admirer, but a flicker of something deeper, realer.
Phuwin looked down, then back up, almost shyly. "...You'll keep showing up like this?"
Pond smiled gently. "Only if you'll let me."
Phuwin was left speechless.
Just something about this stranger comforted Phuwin in ways nothing else could.
A few moments of silence and then Phuwin clutched his jacket tighter as he peeked past the crates again. The girls were still lingering near the black car at the end of the alley, giggling, whispering, eyes darting for a glimpse of their beloved star.
He sighed. "They're waiting near my car. I don't think I can make it without being seen."
Pond looked over his shoulder, assessing the distance, the curves of the alleyway, the blind spots. His mind worked quickly.
"I've got an idea," he said.
Phuwin raised a brow. "I'm listening."
"I'll go out there, act like I just saw you leave through the west alley, and distract them. Most of them just want a photo or proof you were here. While they're chasing shadows, you slip through the side entrance and call for a ride from the next street."
Phuwin looked hesitant. "That could get you in trouble.
That way will lead you to the security guards. You might be mistaken as a sasaeng too."
Pond smirked. "I've handled worse. Besides, I'm not exactly a stranger to chaos."
Phuwin's breath trembled as he watched the girls linger near his car. His usual calm was cracking. The fanmeet had drained him, and now this-cornered and exhausted.
Pond noticed the fear hidden behind Phuwin's calm exterior.
Without thinking, he gently placed a hand on Phuwin's shoulder.
"It's alright," he whispered. "I've got you."
Before Pond could turn to step away with his distraction plan, Phuwin reached out and grabbed the hem of Pond's shirt-tiny fists clutching like a lost child afraid to let go.
Pond paused.
The grip wasn't strong. It was soft, almost hesitant-but it held.
There was a pause. Then, Phuwin touched Pond's arm.
"Why are you doing this?"
That softness again.
Pond met his eyes. "Because you saved me too, you know."
Phuwin blinked. "Me?"
"You're more than just an actor, Phuwin. There were nights when your voice-your films-kept me going. When I felt invisible, your work reminded me that I wasn't. That someone out there felt things I felt."
Phuwin's mouth opened slightly, stunned by the depth in those words. They weren't compliments. They were truths. Raw ones.
"I just wanted to return the favor," Pond said with a small smile.
"Even if it's just a little."
Phuwin's throat tightened. "Thank you," he said, barely a whisper.
Pond winked, backing away.
"Time to be a decoy. You better run fast, superstar."
And with that, Pond stepped out of the alley.
"Hey! I just saw Phuwin! He turned the corner and went the other way!"
The girls screamed and bolted in the direction Pond pointed. It was chaos-but organized chaos. And it worked.
Phuwin slipped quietly down the opposite path, heart pounding-not from running, but from feeling. For the first time in a long time, he didn't feel like a star... just a person. A person someone saw.
BACK AT THE CAFÉ
The golden light of the setting sun spilled across the cobblestone street as Santa stepped through the café doors again, the familiar chime ringing above his head.
But something felt... off.
The warmth was still there. The glow of kintsugi bowls behind the counter. The subtle scent of roasted coffee and something sweet baking in the oven.
Only-Yotha wasn't there.
Santa scanned the café, his brows furrowing. No tall figure behind the counter. No silent presence in the corner. Just the soft murmur of a couple guests and the sound of a spoon clinking against a ceramic cup.
"Looking for someone?" one of the part-time staff asked kindly.
Santa blinked. "Uh... is Yotha here?"
"Oh, sir? He stepped out a little while ago. Out back, I think."
"Wait... 'sir'?" asked a bewildered Santa
"Yes, Mr. Yotha owns this place." said the part-timer with a smile
Without really thinking, Santa thanked her and slipped through the side door, curiosity leading him past the herb pots and stacked crates.
And then he saw him.
Yotha stood a few feet away near the alley, crouched low with a gentle hand extended. A trio of stray cats purred around his legs, nibbling delicately on saucers filled with leftover fish and warm bread. Beside them, a few kids-local ones Santa vaguely recognized from the nearby school-were eagerly munching on small cups of pudding and melon pan.
The golden afternoon haloed Yotha's silhouette, and for a moment, Santa just watched.
His heart softened.
The man everyone called cold. Distant. Ghost-like.
Here he was, smiling faintly as one of the kids offered him a crayon drawing in thanks. Yotha took it with a simple nod, tucking it into his apron pocket like it was made of gold.
Santa stepped forward quietly.
"I didn't know you offered room service to cats and schoolkids," he teased lightly.
Yotha turned, startled for half a second before his face returned to that unreadable calm.
"They're good customers," he said, tone dry but not unkind.
"Never complain. Always purr or smile."
Santa chuckled, walking closer. "You really are full of surprises."
Yotha didn't say anything right away. He handed one last pudding to a boy who thanked him with a wide grin before dashing off. Then, standing straight, he met Santa's eyes.
"Everyone has pieces of themselves they keep hidden," he said quietly. "Doesn't mean they're not real."
Santa felt his breath catch.
"I guess I'm just... lucky enough to see this side of you," he said, voice softer than he meant it to be.
Yotha looked away, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
"Maybe you are."
Santa blinked. Did he just... smile?
And for a moment, neither of them spoke. The soft breeze carried the scent of vanilla and sugar between them, and the cats brushed past their ankles like silent shadows.
Santa couldn't help but smile back.
"Maybe you're not as cold as you want people to think."
Yotha didn't answer, but his eyes-those eyes-held a quiet warmth Santa hadn't seen anywhere else.
They went inside the café and after sometime had passed,
"Here," Yotha said quietly.
Santa blinked. A dessert was set before him-an elegant matcha parfait layered in a small bowl with fine golden seams. It looked like something out of a dream, topped with whipped cream and glistening fruit.
"I didn't order-"
"You looked like you needed it."
Santa stared at him.
No hesitation. No awkwardness.
Just... a simple offering. One that made something in Santa's chest ache.
He took a bite, and his lips curled almost involuntarily.
"This tastes like... warmth," he murmured.
Yotha didn't reply.
Santa glanced up, and their eyes locked again. Something about Yotha's gaze-it wasn't cold at all.
"So..." Santa began, leaning against the chair, "do you always hand out desserts to stray souls?"
Yotha tilted his head, his gaze calm. "Only the ones who look like they need it."
Santa smiled. "Then I must really look like a mess to you."
"No," Yotha replied without hesitation.
"You look like someone who's been searching for something."
The words struck Santa deeper than he expected.
He turned toward Yotha fully, watching him in the waning sunlight that caressed his posture through the clear windows.
"What do you think I'm looking for?"
Yotha didn't answer immediately. He glanced down at the crayon drawing in his pocket, fingers brushing over it thoughtfully.
"Maybe... something you lost. Or someone."
Santa's breath hitched.
How was it that every word from Yotha's mouth seemed to peel back a layer of himself?
He laughed it off with a light scoff. "A little too observant for someone who doesn't talk much."
Yotha's lips twitched again in that almost-smile.
"I just don't talk much. Doesn't mean I don't see."
"And here I thought I was the only one watching you."
That got Yotha to raise an eyebrow, subtly amused.
"You're an interesting person, Yotha."
"So I've heard," Yotha said. "Though usually people call me 'cold' or 'difficult.'"
"I don't see that."
Yotha looked at Santa with a flicker of emotion in his gaze-uncertainty, maybe, or a hint of gratitude.
"Maybe you're the only one who's trying to see past it."
Before Santa could say more, a familiar voice rang out behind them:
"WELL, WELL, WELL-what's this lovely scene?"
Santa turned, startled.
Pond stood a few feet away, hands on hips, the biggest, most mischievous grin spread across his face.
His cheeks were still flushed from excitement, and his whole body radiated joy like sunlight bouncing off glass.
"I just came back from the most unreal fanmeet-slash-action-movie-chase sequence," Pond declared dramatically, stepping toward them.
"And what do I return to? You, Ice King, chatting like a Disney prince with a customer!"
Yotha sighed, turning his head without breaking composure. "I was being polite."
"Oh no no no," Pond wagged a finger, "this wasn't just polite. I've never seen you talk this much. Ever."
Santa raised an eyebrow, hiding a laugh.
Yotha crossed his arms. "You're being dramatic."
"Am I?" Pond leaned in closer to Santa with a mock-conspiratorial whisper,
"He's never like this. Ever. Trust me-I'd think he was malfunctioning if I didn't just witness it myself."
Santa chuckled. "I feel honored."
Pond narrowed his eyes with a sly grin and pointed between the two.
"I don't think this is just a normal chat between an owner and a customer... something's definitely going on."
Yotha turned his face away to hide a twitch in his lips.
Santa couldn't help but smile.
"You two get along pretty well." said Yotha as he turned away.
"Are you shy Yotha? Where are you running off to?" Pond said mockingly.
"Shut up. And what about your dream-come-true fanmeet?" Yotha tried to deviate the topic quickly.
"Well, that's quiet a long story..."
Pond stated, chuckling reminiscing the day's hilarious events.
As the three of them stood in the fading light-dessert trays emptied, the alley quiet, and a strange kind of warmth in the air-the threads of something new, something deeper, had begun to weave between them.
And none of them were ready for where it would lead.
Safely tucked into the backseat of a taxi, Phuwin looked out the window, buzzing vehicles amidst the brightly lit towers- his breath fogging the glass.
He couldn't stop thinking about that man with the quiet confidence and warm eyes.
This was one of the most uncanny encounter he ever had had with anyone before.
He found himself smiling like an idiot rewinding the day's drama-like event with a complete stranger.
Phuwin found solace in this man who came out of nowhere and saved him like the male lead of a k-drama.
Before Phuwin even knew it, he was totally surrounded by Pond's thoughts.
What's his name? Will I meet you again Mr. Totoro?
Then, a memory flickered. As Pond had turned, his backpack shifted open, and something slipped slightly out: a black apron, neatly folded.
Just barely, Phuwin caught the words embroidered in gold:
'Coffee with Kintsugi.'
His lips curved into a soft smile.
"Looks like I have somewhere to go," he whispered looking at the shining city lights.