Unlike Apo, Lamai desperately wants to be spotted with Mile. He quickly discovers that she is obsessed with social media and being seen, and is only with him because of how his fame can benefit her. Mile is a private man who prefers picnics in secluded areas - preferably with a certain hurricane of a man in cowboy boots.

She wants to eat on an open terrace at a restaurant known to have paparazzi lying in wait. Mile is a generous partner, but he refuses. They settle on somewhere more private, so they won't be spotted.

He studies his dinner date while she eats. She is pale, prim, petite and proper, Apo's opposite in every way, and takes tiny bites of her food at a time. Mile would have thought it cute, two years ago. Now, he thinks cute is the uncouth way Apo shovels food into his mouth. He looks at Lamai but sees Apo's face instead, lips coated in tiny, buttery croissant flakes.

Good date? Apo texts him. Need rescuing?

Needless to say, there is no second date. But there is a second girl. And a third. And a fourth. Mile is nothing if not determined.

•••

Mile passes under a new awning on his way into work.

He can't explain the odd pang of guilt he feels joining Apo on set. Apo, he quickly realizes, has no such qualms. Mile's dating life hasn't phased him.

During their ELLE interview in late September, Apo has the chance to get his revenge when asked by the interviewer about flirting.

"Honestly, I don't know how to flirt," Apo admits instead, and proceeds to trip all over his words. Mile makes out: "Trying is trying. It should be effortless. When you're doing what you love, I believe it will bring you to the right person."

"This means if you like Apo, you have to be the one to initiate it," Mile says.

Mile's chest swells. He's never wanted more to know what's really going on inside Apo's head. Does Apo see - finally - that they're the right person for each other?

"I'm also not good at flirting just like Apo." Mile answers in turn.

"This means if you like Mile, you have to be the one to initiate it," Apo says.

•••

Apo invites Mile to his hometown of Hua Hin.

Mile's analytical brain says he shouldn't be travelling right now. He doesn't regret his recent business investment. He misses the money dearly departed from his bank account, but he would miss Apo more if the actor were to pack up and return to New York in disgrace. Apo doesn't know the half of the fight Mile goes through to keep Apo in his life.

Saying no to Apo is not an option for Mile.

They go to Hua Hin.

Apo drives, and Mile uses his arms to shield his vital organs just in case. It's a five hour drive.

Mile's heart thunders when he meets Apo's parents.

Apo's father is adorable. He's a tiny man, but Mile is able to trace so many of Apo's features to him. As for Apo's mom, Apo stole her entire face. The parents are the designers; Apo is the design. 

Mile blushes and stammers and says things he shouldn't.

"Do you have to be so obvious?" Apo chides when they've reached their hotel suite.

"Sorry." Mile looks away, disgruntled.

Mile uses the elephant towel figure to wipe the sweat from his face and neck while Apo films around.

Why does Apo refuse to name this thing between them? Surely it isn't just Mile feeling it. He doesn't want to fall in love alone, but he's afraid that's exactly what's happening.

He's exhausted after the trip. But at least they're alone now. There are no cameras. No one will ever know of this moment. Mile desperately needs to be close to Apo, and he can't handle another rejection.

Even though their room has double beds, Mile crawls in next to Apo.

"What're you doing?" Apo murmurs groggily.

"Please," Mile mutters. That's it. Please. He doesn't know what else to say, and is too tired to be more colorful or inventive.

"Come here." Apo pulls back the blanket and Mile slides in next to Apo. Apo closes his eyes and gently kisses the tip of his nose before laying his cheek on Mile's shoulder. He feels up Mile's abdomen. "So muscular," he mutters before nodding off. Mile's arm goes numb, yet he doesn't move, except to kiss and stroke Apo's hair.

Mile forgot about morning wood. He didn't think that far ahead when he insisted they share a bed. Fortunately, he wakes up with his back to Apo, and immediately turns onto his stomach to conceal it.

"You toss and turn a lot," Apo comments.

Apo watches him shower through the open bathroom door but pretends to be busy pulling clothes out of his suitcase. And Mile leaves the door open for him. He doesn't want to intimidate Apo; he wants him even bolder.

They take pictures of each other, and Mile agrees to wait until a few months after Apo posts so as not to rouse suspicion.

Apo knows what he's doing, wearing the same shirt he was wearing during their first kiss. It makes it really, really hard for Mile to be good.

They hit the town, no plan in mind.

First, Apo wants to find the perfect quaint, idyllic café. They finally settle on Cosmic Café.

They make plans to go to the waterpark. Over lunch with Apo's parents at Moka.Cafe & Space,

[There should be a GIF or video here. Update the app now to see it.]

Mile finds himself wishing he could tell them how badly he wants to be with their son. Apo should want him too. He's got a lot of money, a nice car, and heated floors to boot. He's a suitable partner for Apo. He could give Apo the world. He wants nothing more than to treasure and spoil their beloved son.

We would make such good boyfriends, Mile laments inwardly, wanting to scream it from the rooftops. We're perfect for each other. So perfect I can't even believe it. I never thought I could achieve this level of compatibility with another man.

The romantic and sexual compatibility between Pisces and Capricorn is insane. Sometimes Mile feels like rolling his eyes. They're so well-suited - fated - for each other it's like they're characters in a cringey romance novel. It's almost too much. So why doesn't Apo see it?

"So how'd the date go?" Apo queries when they're laying on the shore of a reef not far from the coast of Hua Hin.

"The date with the girl."

Mile has almost forgotten about it. He doesn't appreciate being reminded.

"Why are you saying it like that? It was a date and it was with a girl."

"Uh-huh. So defensive. So how'd it go?"

"It was fine," Mile answers shortly, not really wanting to talk about Lamai right now, or ever. He doesn't see the point, when Apo is right here and they have a million other topics they could be talking about. "There won't be another one, though," Mile admits.

"Mhm." Apo nods slightly. He doesn't sound surprised, which Mile finds inexplicably vexing.

"But there've been others. I'm still looking. Hey, I know what'll make you happy... Let's go to the waterpark tomorrow."

•••

Mile and Apo have a good time at the waterpark. Mile likes it so much that, a few days later, the rest of the cast and crew are invited on a BOC-sponsored trip.

Mile posts two pictures to Instagram but doesn't tag Apo, which of course doesn't stop Apo from commenting.

Apo is in his element, thriving. Mile is stunned by Apo's energy. He feels like a dad on a Sunday after a long week, who just wanted to sit at home and watch the football game, but whose wife forces him to come to the family gathering against his will.

Everyone is done with Apo.

"Why are you so talkative today, Apo?" Job grumbles.

"Put the camera down, Apo," cries Tong. "Why are you so hyper? Knock it off!"

It doesn't dampen Apo's mood one iota.

The place needs an elevator. Tong needs to be carried up the stairs by four men. But Apo just floats up them, buoyed by a sense of excitement and too much caffeine, as always.

Mile is still winded, legs shaking, hands trembling, shivering from the cold, when Apo comes up to him and asks to go on the dropper next. Mile is speechless. But Apo drapes himself over Mile's body and herds him away, and Mile goes willingly.

When Apo asks him how the ride was, he laughs shakily, raking his hands through his hair.

"Very intense. I almost went into shock. Is there anywhere I can throw up?"

Barcode screams like a girl going down. Jeff and Build handle it better.

After hyping everyone up, it's finally Apo's turn.

"Hey, it was fine. Looked pretty cool, right?" He asks the camera afterward.

They take the GoPro down the waterslide and into the pool, getting some amazing - and embarrassing - shots.

"Have you never been on a slider before?" A giggling Apo asks a winded and soaked Mile. "Was it fun?"

"Very fun. Water went up my nose." Mile draws his hands over his face while Apo runs his fingers lovingly through Mile's hair.

Bonds are built, friendships are forged, and Apo looks amazing in tiny orange shorts.

Afterwards, they all grab dinner. Apo excuses himself early. When Mile lets himself into their hotel room, Apo is meditating. Mile knows Apo's brain frequency has been erratic all day, and he's trying to adjust it to stable levels. Mile waits for Apo to come to bed, but he never does.

•••

It's December again, and they're back where they started, shooting from the top. Apo has been giving Mile space. It's not until the tenth day of shooting that he leaves more of his infamous comments on Mile's Instagram.

Apo must know, standing before Mile in nothing but white briefs slung so tantalizingly low on his hips, that he is in control. The amount of power he holds over Mile is unreal.

If Michelangelo had seen Apo, he would have sculpted him instead of David; Mile is sure of it.

"You like me, don't you?" Apo is playing giddy and drunk, leaning on the edge of the bathtub. There's a teasing glint in his eye, and, of course, Mile interprets a hidden meaning.

"My type is nice, unlike you," he denies woodenly, never having felt more in tune with Kinn's character. Both men just want to protect their hearts from what their hearts want.

Apo grabs Mile's crotch, sending a zing of electricity through Mile's groin. He makes a halfhearted attempt to brush Apo's hand off.

"That's why he's still asleep." Apo's tongue pokes between his teeth, his eyes bright. "Oh, you're mad?" Apo flicks his nipple, making Mike's entire body shudder. "You can touch mine back." His hand coils smoothly around Mile's, bringing it to his crotch.

Mile is on fire. Touching Apo like this, in this spot, sends his body into overdrive. His head is spinning; sweat breaks out on his brow; his breath catches in his throat. Time slows down; his brain wills it, and his senses sharpen. Apo is warm, hot, and more than a little hard. Mile's breath stutters out. He never wants to move his hand. Apo feels so good.

Apo wriggles his brows almost imperceptibly, and Mile remembers to wrest his hand away.

"Focus." Apo laughs, teasing. He really has no idea the effect he has on Mile.

The way he sucks Mile's upper lip between his in a vacuum-seal, the taste of his nipples, the way his fingers clench around Mile's, teeth gritted, when Mile nibbles on his earlobe and pretends to thrust into him, is intoxicating.

Only the director and cinematographer are left on set during intimate scenes, in order to give the actors a bit more privacy. Too many onlookers would affect their performance, and confidence. There are many erections, but no awkward excuses. It's implicitly understood: what happens between them, stays between them. Intimacy coordinators have already let the cast and crew know that arousal is a possibility before shooting. Their policy is to simply take a break and resume shooting when the actors are ready.

Mile rehearses a million times in his head exactly how he's going to rock Apo's world, and show him that a man can make him feel good. And it pays off. Apo is stunned, stuttering out questions like, where did you learn how to do that? with equal parts curiosity and dread.

"Everyone thinks we're having sex," Apo tells him point blank one day.

Mile spits out his water.

"Really? You deliberately waited until I was drinking my water to tell me that, didn't you?" Knowing Apo, he definitely did.

"Sorry for saying the word sex in front of your water." Apo rolls his eyes.

"My water does not forgive you."

Apo's right leg jitters. He makes no move to leave, and Mile arcs a brow. "Do you want to have sex?"

Apo's mouth opens and then closes. Apparently, he hadn't thought that far ahead. Mile thinks he knows him well enough to understand him by now. Apo is just tired of Mile having all the control over him. He wanted to catch Mile off guard. But he wasn't expecting Mile to be so direct. "Ask me again when you know what you want." And, yet again, Mile has come out on top.

Apo stomps out of the room, leaving Mile smirking and biting his lip.

•••

Mile's gloating doesn't last long. Apo has been giving him the cold shoulder, and Mile can't take it any more.

Mile shows up at Apo's place unannounced. It's unchanged, still exactly what one would expect from a man who wears salt crystals, white paint-painted jeans and tie-dye. It's pretty, covered in plants and fairy lights and tasseled rugs with minimal, wood furnishing. Traditional and modern fusion. Cat things everywhere. Tiny kitchen. Great music selection featuring classical, jazz, and pop. It features a random, mismatched assortment of furniture - three different kinds of chairs - and photos stuck to the wall with scotch tape, yet Mile wouldn't change a thing. Mile loves Apo's vibe, and his home encompasses it perfectly.

He hands Apo a box of chocolate croissants dusted with powdered sugar, and it must give Apo amnesia because he smiles like he can't remember why he was mad in the first place.

•••

Mile likes to tell Apo in advance: I'm going to touch you like this or I'm going to touch you like that. Much of their intimacy is unscripted and Mile wants Apo to consent to every touch so he feels safe.

Tonight, in his living room, he tells Apo: "I'm going to put my hands down your briefs like this." He models it without sticking his hands under the waistband.

"Like how? I don't get it." Apo frowns. "You said-"

"Like this." He slides them in for emphasis. Heat rushes to his groin upon contact with the warm, silky skin. Apo is a furnace.

"Ah, okay." Apo nods. "And-?"

"And do this." He squeezes gently.

"I think it should be a little rougher." There's a teasing glint in Apo's eye.

"Okay," Mile breathes out, squeezing the fleshy mounds experimentally in his hands. Both men grin, mouths gaping slightly.

"I'm gonna kiss and lick you here." He licks a stripe up Apo's nipple for emphasis, using his hand to toy with the other.

"You always do that."

Well, you have nice nips, Mile barely catches himself before saying.

They're going to enjoy the looks on the directors' faces tomorrow. Nobody expected it to be this easy for them. But they've become so in tune with each other, they can play each other's bodies like instruments. Nothing feels too uncomfortable or contrived or theatrical.

Mile would like to send everyone involved in the production of this series a gift basket. It has satisfied so many of his most ardent needs and desires, or at least come very close. He's gotten up close and personal with all of his favorite parts of Apo. Skin? Scratched. Abs? Licked. Tits? Sucked. Ass? Squeezed. Dick? Grabbed. Neck? Bitten. Hair? Pulled. Lips? Vacuumed.

Kissing Apo, touching Apo, just seeing Apo undressed - notwithstanding the wretched sock - has been incredible. They see so much of each other during filming that there's no need to peek at him while they're changing. Why peek when you can openly look? Mile believes peeking is for the weak; he prefers to stare Apo down and make him blush.

Mile sits on the couch while his energetic costar ambles aimlessly around. He points out the musical wall ornaments, the prominent green motif in the decor, the cleanliness. Mile has more fancy cocktail making equipment than Apo - including a rose smoking cloche - and he likes that. Mile listens patiently, just nodding and smiling.

"I'm too annoying," Apo frets, putting Frank Sinatra on. "You're going to get sick of me."

Mile throws his head back and brays a harsh laugh of despair. If only.

"Come here." He beckons to Apo. "Come here," he repeats because Apo looks hesitant. The younger man scurries over and sits cross-legged on the couch beside Mile.

Mile never tires of Apo's beauty. It always leaves him breathless, being this close to the man. And Mile thinks, fuck it. He smooths his hand through Apo's hair and gently applies pressure until Apo lays his head on Mile's shoulder. Mile lays his head against Apo's. Love and caring, soothing and skinship, he just yearns to fulfill all of Apo's needs.

"Put a movie on," Apo instructs.

"What do you want to watch?"

The question gives Apo a full-blown existential crisis. He loves a lot of movies. Mile has barely finished typing one in to Netflix when Apo remembers something else he'd rather see instead, halfway through the trailer of which he remembers another series he always meant to start.

"Okay." Mile claps his hands together briskly. "Here's what we're going to do. I'm going to keep a list of everything you want to watch and we're going to watch one movie a night. Okay?"

Apo looks at him in Mile's favorite way: eyes hooded, a lazy smile playing on his lips, and says,

"I love you."

•••

Apo is in Mile's bed, but not in the way Mile wants. They are acting, and the bed is on set. He files little snippets of these moments away in his brain for later: Apo smiling at him, framed angelically in the morning light, Apo languishing about in the clean white sheets with the blanket wrapped around his trim waist, a flash of black hair and a tickle under his nose when Apo burrows into his chest. Apo's sweet smell. The hot smoothness of his skin, the weight of him on top of Mile, the contrast between his bronze skin and his white briefs.

Gently stroking Apo's hair, Mile wills himself to behave, not to give anything away with his body language and, above all, not to pop a chubby with Apo laying directly on top of him.

But Apo's skin is smooth, creamy peanut butter and he smells like chocolate croissants. And Mile is starving with the whole meal laid out in front of him.

"That looks relaxing," a crew member observes.

Mile nods, murmuring an almost inaudible "yeah," just as Apo denies: "not at all; it's hot."

"No, it's heavy," Mile grins, biting back.

He loves the stark contrast of their skin tones. Mile's milky white chest. Apo's bronze sinewy torso. Like Yin and Yang.