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Mile doesn't realize he's been following Apo around everywhere until Apo whirls around and turns an impatient frown on him.

"Really? The bathroom too?"

"I was gonna wait outside..."

Apo sighs.

"Dude, let me go five minutes without the smell of your perfume invading my nostrils. I'd like to smell myself every once in a while..."

"Sorry." Mile flushes like a beetroot. "I'll...give you some privacy."

It's true. Mile can't deny that he tends to gravitate towards Apo at all times.

It's not just because he enjoys Apo's vibrant, radiant aura so much. It's partly because Apo is an enigma to Mile.

Mile can't quite tell what the other man is feeling. What stems from friendly camaraderie and what stems from something more, from the same aching longing that's been plaguing Mile all these years? What does he mean by the comments he leaves on Mile's social media?

It's impossible to tell, because even if Mile had the courage to ask him, Apo doesn't sit still long enough for a serious conversation. There is no pinning that butterfly.

Mile's family has questions. He has the difficult task of explaining to them that he's decided to star in a Yaoi series alongside that one dude whose thirsty comments they keep seeing on his Instagram posts.

Mile calls his mother with regular updates about Apo and the KinnPorsche project. She is his favorite person, the woman who loved him when he was an awkward, chubby little boy, before the elegance and fame and fortune. He wouldn't be who he is today without her and his father.

One thing is clear: Apo is a happy person. He is obviously doing what he wants to be doing and that makes Mile's chest swell contently, because he knows he's a big part of that.

Meanwhile, Mile is in the best shape of his life. He's been refraining from eating too many sweets, which is a challenge because he's loved food since he was a child. Apo also has a sweet tooth, Mile's come to learn, but restrains himself when he sees Mile's discipline and dedication.

The more they work together, the more Mile realizes his initial perception of Apo was flawed. He has taken Apo for some sort of deity. But every interaction chips away at the shiny veneer Mile painted Apo in. Apo is a bit annoying, and sometimes rude. His lack of manners shocks and horrifies Mile at times. He remembers an angel from the runway. But Mile's memory has glorified Apo, painted over his flaws. The real man is no angel; he's just that, a man.

"I have to go home after hanging out with you and just sit in silence to recuperate," Mile jokes.

He's expecting Apo's quintessential laugh. He loves that belly laugh, and the way it makes something soft and warm stir inside Mile.

But Apo's smile doesn't reach his ears, and Mile instantly regrets the words. He's still nervous around Apo, and takes 'boys are mean to you because they like you' to a new level.

"Aha...please tell me if I'm getting too annoying." Apo shrinks into himself.

It's hard for Mile to explain, but Apo commands affection. He needs to be protected, treasured and adored. He needs to feel safe and warm and loved in order to thrive as his unique self. He needs to be praised, needs a grounding touch at all times. Mile has discovered what most others don't yet know about Apo: he is just a sweet baby under that handsome, masculine exterior. He is so extremely sensitive as to cry if no one plays with him. Mile tells himself he will do his best to make Apo feel protected.

"You're not. You're cute." Mile clears his throat a little too loudly. "Wanna hang out after rehearsal?" he proposes, gently knocking Apo's shoulder.

"Okay." Apo is instantly cheery again.

"Okay. Cool. I'll drive." He feigns nonchalance, but his heart is fluttering. It is precisely because Mile likes Apo that he acts as if he dislikes him. He avoids sitting next to him or across from him at work, and prefers to leave the room when Apo enters rather than trying to make conversation. He knows he will slip up if he tries saying something. Everyone will hear the way his voice changes, and stutters, in Apo's presence. The rowdy boys in the cast are always looking for weakness, something to tease you for. Mile doesn't want to lose their respect. What is more pathetic than falling for the man who gets paid to kiss you?

But then Apo is asking Mile to drive him home, claiming he doesn't have gas money. Sitting too close to him on the couch while Mile shrinks into himself and wills him away. Feeding him. And now Mile has gone and done this.

Apo gawks at Mile's matte black Mercedez Benz.

"It's a c238, E-class." Mile rubs the back of his neck, simultaneously shy and preening with pride. Mile is aware it looks expensive and smells like money, well befitting its driver.

Apo requests something vegetarian for dinner. Mile treats him to Bangkok's finest, grateful for the opportunity to spoil the beguiling man.

Mile is not surprised to learn that Apo only eats healthy food. His body is a temple. And, oh, what a beautiful, sacred temple it is. Mile wants to worship there every minute of every day and night.

"Why are you staring at me?" Apo frets. "Do I have something between my teeth?"

"No, no, I just...I really admire that about you." Mile instantly lowers his gaze, feeling flushed.

Apo emits his signature belly laugh.

"You're smitten with me already."

Mile doesn't deny it.

"You have a lot of impressive traits."

Throughout dinner, Mile sneaks subtle glances at his coworker, hoping he doesn't notice.

Apo is so handsome it's uncanny; he's mathematically perfect. He has the most beautiful, expressive honey eyes, framed by lashes that kiss his high cheekbones when he looks down, and lips as full as a ripe berry Mile would like to pluck, over and over again. Confoundingly, Apo also has the muscle tone of a strong man in his prime. Slender but strong. What a bizarre feature set, Mile marvels. The duality Apo holds is insane. He says the dirtiest things with the prettiest mouth. He's wild and untameable but also carries a little tent around on set for meditating. He's beautiful to look at but hot to the touch. Mile wants to withdraw his finger from the flame, but Apo keeps pulling him in. So he surrenders to his attraction with the honor of a soldier whose army has been vanquished.

"What is it?" Apo looks up with a bit of noodle poking out between his plush, tempting lips.

"Oh, nothing," Mile dismisses hurriedly. "You just - I thought you had something between your teeth."

"Oh." Apo runs his tongue over his teeth in a way that makes Mile ache to do it for him.

"Better?" He grins at his costar.

"Yeah," Mile nods grimly. "Problem solved."

Yet, his problem is sitting right in front of him, and isn't going anywhere.

•••

Apo calls Mile and asks to be picked up for the workshop training session. And even though Mile doesn't normally allow anyone else in his precious car, he obliges Apo; of course he does.

Apo is wearing a blue t-shirt and white baseball cap and thrumming with nervous energy. Mile gets a glimpse of his apartment for the first time, and it's a hot mess. It's got fairy lights and a jungle of plants - some wilting - and quilted rugs and random knickknacks strewn everywhere. None of the decorations or furniture match each other. Everything is just stacked haphazardly. He's got shoeboxes serving as shelves.

This is the apartment of a man who doesn't know what a big deal he is. Mile imagined an apartment more befitting of Apo's glory, something sleek and modern with expensive furnishings - at least something clean. But Apo really is just a child. Messy and carefree and irresponsible and, fuck, Mile loves it. He has a wilting plant on top of the microwave which is on top of the fridge, for fuck's sake. Mile can't believe this is the man his heart has chosen.

"Wow." Mile's mouth opens and closes. "It's - nice!"

Apo begs to drive the Mercedes. Mile would indulge him even if he were begging for an organ.

They almost don't make it to the workshop. Mile lets Apo drive for all of two minutes before he realizes the extent of Apo's insane road rage. Much honking, swerving, and a near aneurysm later, Mile knows much, much better.

"No matter how well I drive, and follow all the rules, I still end up with something unpredictable," Apo pouts. Mile fights to contain his laughter, instead smiling and nodding.

"Bikers are the worst," he agrees.

Apo is cute, really cute. But Mile will not be risking a repeat performance by allowing him to drive the car again.

Kru'Ning leads them through several intimating exercises in order to help them step into their roles as Kinn and Porsche. A mirroring exercise has them sit across from each other to stare into each other's eyes, and listen to each other breath, and simply synchronize.

Their practice script is simple: Porsche lifts Kinn's shirt, checking a wound. Kinn grabs his hand; they stare into each other's eyes. Kinn kisses Porsche. Porsche, still unsure about Kinn, kisses back momentarily, then panics.

Mile's heart already beats faster when he's around Apo. It threatens cardiac arrest at the prospect of kissing Apo again.

They are being filmed, which slakes Mile's ardour somewhat. But when he zeroes in on Apo's lips, the rest of the room fuzzes out into white noise. Apo closes his eyes, instinctively pulling away as Mile leans in. But Mile cannot wait any longer. Apo's mouth is the sun and Mile's mouth falls helplessly into orbit. Mile grips his shoulder to hold him in place and gives him the most gentle and reassuring of kisses, a kiss that promises, it's okay. The younger man kisses him back hesitantly.

Mile's lips glance off Apo's lush mouth and softly kiss the tip of his nose. There. Now Apo's lips are parting in anticipation, Mile's heart acknowledges with a flutter. He goes in for another kiss, emboldened and delighted. This one is firmer; Mile leans in until Apo's back is at a hundred degree angle with the ground. Two kisses, and then Apo leans forward into Mile, giving as good as he's getting. Their lips seal and unseal over and over again without breaking contact, the pressure light but steady. Mile hears only their soft little sucking noises and indrawn breaths. He doesn't stop until Apo is nearly flat on his back. Apo can't even fall because Mile is holding him with an arm bulky enough to wrap around Apo's body like a snake around its prey.

Apo is learning to trust Mile, in every way a person can trust another person.

Mile breaks the kiss and noses into Apo's neck. Apo's head immediately snaps back to give him unfettered access. His Adam's apple bobs, eyes still shut, as he swallows in anticipation. The responsiveness of the younger man gives Mile pause, threatening to ruin his self-control. He takes a long moment to compose himself, battling wild impulses to bite and suck on the neck bared so readily for him. Eventually, Apo's eyes flutter open as he realizes there will be no more kisses. He finds Mile staring at him, soaking in his resplendent beauty. Mile doesn't know how much of the ensuing panic is Porsche and how much is Apo.

They must now become acquainted with every square inch of each other's faces. Again, Apo closes his eyes. Mile explores every nook and cranny of Apo's face with his own, worshipping Apo with tentative kisses as light as the flutter of butterfly wings. Apo has goosebumps. His face appears tense, taut and strained. Mile thinks he knows why but doesn't dare look down at his lap to confirm his theory. Instead, he swoops in to claim Apo's lips again. Apo kisses him back briefly before pulling away, his breathing ragged.

Finally, each man feels his way blindly around the other's face with his nose, learning every plane, becoming familiar with each curve and contour, while the other remains still as a statue. Apo follows the rules. Mile, however, can't resist skirting his lips along the planes of Apo's handsome face along with his nose. Every square inch of Apo's face is kissed.

Mile feels emotion rise in his throat. He never wants to open his eyes. This is more than a job for him. This is a treasured, long-awaited, cathartic moment of intense gratification, a much-delayed release of pent-up longing. This is what he pictured all those years ago; he is finally able to adore Apo like he wanted. And it's better than Mile dreamed it would be.

Mile's acting is naive. He still doesn't have full control of himself like a good actor would; he pours everything into his kisses with Apo. He's been attracted to the man for years and it's impossible for him to hold back now. He is told over and over and over again by every member of the staff: slow down. Take it easy. Make it romantic. Go step by step. Stop eating his face. Control yourself.

Apo looks kind of spooked after the kisses. But Mile has hungered for this man for too long to be good now. The directing is futile, and eventually they give up.

The car ride home is silent.

•••

Before they get naked together, Mile pulls Apo aside.

"You're safe with me. I will always treat you with respect, whatever you're wearing or not wearing."

Apo gazes at him, eyes limpid and guileless, and nods.

When Apo emerges from the changing room completely nude except for the sock covering his privates, Mile's mouth goes dry. He's stunned speechless, rooted to the spot. He planned to say something light to diffuse the situation, but now finds that he can't say anything that won't betray his feelings so he just - panicking - nods and turns on his heel.

Mile has noticed that Apo has a thing for his chest. His eyes seem to gravitate there. On numerous occasions, he's suggested: lose the top buttons.

Mile has even come up with a little, almost-haiku, poem for it.

Apo is not gay.
From my cleavage on display, he can't look away.
But, again...he's not gay.

"Look at this," Apo mutters, flicking his nipple. "This is a solid A-cup, at least."

•••

No one can find Apo on the set before a rehearsal. He's always late. He'll stop and look at all the little things around him: flowers, sculptures, even ants. Mile often needs to grab his hand and pull him away.

They are complete opposites: water and fire. Mile is graceful. Apo burps and farts like a machine. Mile is quiet. Apo is chaotic. Mile laughs silently with a cheeky, dimpled grin. Apo has a loud, boisterous laugh that can be heard on every floor of the Filmania building. Mile's body temperature runs hot. Apo gets cold easily, and has a habit of turning off the AC in every room he passes through, leaving Mile baffled until he figures out why the room has gotten hotter. Mile is cool as a cucumber. Apo is a wild kitten, a sweet but untameable force. Beautiful but lethal. He's a wildcard, completely unhinged; you never know what he's going to do or say, just that it will be crazy. Even Mile's safe, appropriate Instagram page is now a riot thanks to Apo.

Other times, Apo is shockingly sweet.

Sweet and dirty.

And above all, flirtatious.

Mile and Apo have been hanging out between shoots, with Mile usually inviting Apo shopping.

Mile eagerly takes Apo to some of his favorite places. His car windows are tinted so he's sure he won't have to answer for what they've been up to. He and Apo prefer the early hours of the morning and late hours of the night when there are fewer chances of being recognized.

Their favorite place to shop in Bangkok is the Chatuchak Weekend Market. Both men love vintage items, items with a story behind them. They love to ask the sellers about them before they make a purchase. Mile could listen to Apo haggling for vintage wares and clothes forever. When they get tired of walking around, they stop for food. Mile, who will eat almost anything, sometimes appals the pickier Apo. He eats frog legs on one such outing, and Apo looks ill.

"You plan on kissing me with that mouth?"

"They're a delicacy," Mile insists.

"My ass is a delicacy," Apo retorts. "You brush your teeth the instant we get home or I'm never kissing you again." He personally oversees the entire two-minute process of Mile cleaning his mouth.

"Happy wife, happy life," Mile mutters wryly when he's done.

"Hmph," Apo sniffs in reply, nodding his approval when Mile flashes his minty-fresh, pearl-white dentition.

Another time, they watch the sun rise over the Khlong Saen Saep canal. More accurately, Apo watches the sunrise and Mile watches Apo. Apo turns to him and stares back for a beat before revealing softly, "I love your smile."

Mile wants to reply, I love your eyes, but the words get stuck in his throat. Apo is already rambling about something else by the time he musters up the wherewithal to say it.

Like Mile, Apo loves the Phra Nakhon district. It's a bit far from his place but too beautiful and romantic not to bring Apo to. They talk about cocktails - Apo knows a lot about bartending - and generally take the time to tune in to each other.

Mile likes to buy everything Apo so much as glances at. It amounts to a lot of street food. Apo looks at him as Mile swipes his credit card.

"Anyone ever tell you you give off rich sugar daddy vibes?"

"You give off little boy with daddy issues vibes," Mile sniffs in retort.

Apo's rich belly laugh is music to Mile's ears.

"Then we're perfect for each other."

Mile proudly shows Apo his music collection. He has old amplifiers, old vintage guitars with a warm sound and ones with a high definition sound. Apo applauds emphatically after each performance, especially Mile's favorite: When You Say Nothing At All. They can spend hours on end singing along to Apo's favourite Frank Sinatra vinyl: Fly Me To The Moon. Elvis, blues rock, their shared taste in music is almost eerie.

Mile was all about quality in-ear monitors and headphones. Apo prefers vintage vinyls. And now that he's taken Mile out to his favorite vinyl record stores, Mile is a convert. He loves the rich, warm sounds. It's a whole new world, a stark departure from the one he normally lives in as a musician. He now frequents second-hand vintage stores and studies the patterns of vinyls intently.

Mile can't keep up with Apo. The man has those vintage, authentic, classic coffee shop vibes, yes. There's a type for that. But then he's always wearing dirty pants, with paint streaks or tie-dye that Mile suspects he did himself. And he also loves classical music. What an eclectic blend. There's no one quite like him.

They started out as mere coworkers. Now Apo texts him things like, I brought you food, and I'm going to be late, you head home first. Mile himself always makes sure to order takeout for two or ask the cart guy outside of his condo to wrap something, deliver it to the Filmania office and have it sent up to Apo. He saves the selfies Apo sends him with the food.

They used to call to run lines together. Now, they call each other every night to talk about work and life, especially if they're too busy to hang out or their schedules conflict. How'd it go, cutie? Mile often greets. The calls last well into the morning. The area under Apo's eyes is swelling more and more with each sleepless night and Mile's musculature is in decline because he doesn't have as much time to work out anymore, but neither complains. Even after hanging up, Apo calls back another three or four times, and Mile makes sure to stay up so as not to miss his calls. It should be annoying how much Apo calls, and over what senseless things, but Mile secretly craves it. He loves that Apo needs him like this. He loves that he's the one Apo calls when he could be calling another friend or a family member or a significant other. He loves that Apo misses the sound of Mile's voice almost as soon as the call ends. Apo is needy, and Mile loves it.

It is absolutely imperative that they say goodnight to each other. Mile's familiar, comforting voice lulls Apo to sleep. And Mile can't pretend like he doesn't need this nightly ritual too.

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