The one for me

chapter 7 Blue eyes in the glow

The private suite plunged into velvet darkness, the sudden absence of light amplifying every held breath, every flicker of the twenty-two candles atop the wheeled cake. Win sat frozen at the head of the long table, his brown eyes narrowing against the shifting shadows, the day's frustrations—a hollow birthday, fifty-one unanswered calls, Alex's unwelcome closeness—coiling tighter in his chest like a spring wound too far.

Then, in that intimate golden glow, a pair of piercing blue eyes met his own, serene and unmistakable as Mediterranean depths. The world narrowed to those eyes alone.

Moody tension shattered; Win's lips curved into a genuine smile, rare and radiant, softening the sharp lines of his face like sunlight piercing storm clouds.

Juju stepped forward from the gloom, ginger ponytail swaying gently, his wide megawatt smile lighting the dimness brighter than the flames themselves.

He held the cake steady with both hands, voice lifting in a playful, off-key rendition of

"Happy Birthday,"

the melody warm and unpolished, wrapping around Win like a long-missed embrace. Surprise rippled through the room—Alex and the agency coworkers exchanged bewildered glances, whispers stirring like dry leaves. No one had planned a cake; this was pure, unscripted chaos invading their polished event.

The overhead lights snapped on with a sharp click, flooding the space in harsh white, revealing Juju fully: the same boy from Win's live stream two days prior, dressed in casual black-on-black old-money chic, blue eyes sparkling with irrepressible mischief.

Alex's gaze locked onto Win's face, transfixed. That smile—a real one, unguarded and luminous—struck like a revelation. In a full year of acting together, through countless scripted intimacies and fanservice poses for the cameras, Alex had never witnessed it. Win's expressions on set remained professional frost, calculated and distant; this was unguarded fire, reserved for someone else entirely.

Juju's grin widened impossibly, dimples carving deep into his cheeks as he positioned the cake directly before Win,

His voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Make a wish."

Win's eyes softened further, the last remnants of frustration melting away. Without a word, he lifted the cake from Juju's hands and passed it to their college friend Nat, who accepted it with a knowing nod and a subtle wink—well aware of the inseparable duo's sacred rituals. Alex and Win's college mates stood awkwardly in the periphery, suspended between confusion and the electric pulse of the reunion, unsure whether to applaud or intervene.

All frustration evaporated for Win—the fifty-one ignored calls, the empty bed that morning, the gnawing absence that had shadowed his every step.

He needed only Juju here, now, for their shared birthday. The two closed their eyes in perfect unison, whispering silent wishes to themselves,

counting softly together—"one... two... three"—then leaned in as one to blow out the candles in synchronized breath.

They seized the knife from the table's edge and sliced the first piece together, feeding each other bites amid frosting-smeared laughs and shared glances that spoke volumes. The room erupted in applause—genuine cheers from close friends who understood, polite claps from agency colleagues masking flickers of envy.

Juju spun on his heel to face Win's colleagues and Alex, his cool charisma radiating effortlessly.

"Hi, hello, everyone," he announced with easy confidence, thumb jabbing playfully toward Win.

"He will not introduce me properly, so I will handle it myself."Win leaned back in his chair, a playful glint sparking in his brown eyes.

"Why would I introduce you? You will not see or remember any of them after tonight anyway."Juju stomped lightly on Win's foot under the table, flashing a devilish smile that revealed the tips of his teeth.

"They do not need to know that," he quipped, utterly unconcerned with the truth. Alex watched from the side, bewildered by their effortless overattachment—the casual touches, the shared glances, the inside rhythms that flowed like breathing. He wedged himself between them with deliberate casualness, plastering a professional smile across his face.

"I am Alex, Win's on-screen partner." He extended a hand expectantly.

Juju glanced down at his own fingers, dusted with cake crumbs from the shared slice.

"Sorry, my hands are messy from the cake. Nice meeting you, Alex. I am Julian."

Alex flushed slightly, his hand hovering awkwardly before dropping, shooting Win a quick glance for rescue. But Win stared only at Juju, lost in the moment, oblivious to the exchange. Juju moved fluidly then, greeting each agency worker one by one—handshakes now crumb-free, easy banter disarming even the stiffest executives, his extroverted charm turning skeptics into smiles.

With theatrical flair, Juju hoisted himself onto the center of the table, balancing lightly on the balls of his feet as champagne glasses rattled.

"Listen up, everyone," he announced, voice carrying over the murmurs.

"It is mine and V's—no, sorry, Win's—birthday today. Party here all night on our dime; it is our treat. Win pays for everything." He pointed at Win with a triumphant grin.

"Ah, sorry, everyone—Win gets awkward when I call him V. Order the most expensive dishes, wines, drinks—go wild. Very sorry to cut this short, but it is nearly eight o'clock; we have a house emergency to handle. Need anything else? Ask this man right here." He clapped Nat firmly on the shoulder.

"He will explain everything. Bye for now!"

Juju hopped down with cat-like grace, grabbing Win's arm and steering him toward the exit. They slipped out of the suite together, the door swinging shut behind them on a wave of stunned silence.Alex and the agency artists remained rooted in bewilderment, champagne flutes forgotten in their hands.

Nat cleared his throat into the nearest microphone, an awkward grin spreading across his face.

"Sorry about that, everyone. They are always like this—ditching us mid-celebration without a second thought. Do not mind them at all. Order whatever you desire; Win's card is with me, and it has no limits. And please, do not take Juju's chaos personally; he is always exactly like that."

The suite transformed swiftly into a scene of unrestrained revelry: waiters delivered platters of lobster thermidor, bottles of vintage Dom Pérignon, and towers of caviar. Laughter swelled, glasses clinked in toasts to absent hosts. But Alex sat apart at the edge of the table, his untouched plate growing cold, a gloom settling over him like evening fog. A new face—unplanned, uninvited—had swept into the room like a storm, snatching every ounce of Win's attention and affection. Alex did not like it one bit. Quietly, he rose from his chair and slipped from the room, his face shadowed by unspoken resentment.

They burst from the private suite into the hushed hotel corridor, the muffled roar of revelry fading behind the heavy closing door. Win slipped his hand free from Juju's grasp, the sudden separation halting them mid-stride amid the plush carpet and golden wall sconces.

Juju turned back immediately, blue eyes knowing and expectant, well aware of the flood of questions brewing behind Win's composed facade.

Without a word, Juju fished into the pocket of his black trousers and pulled out a thick envelope stuffed with euros—the absurd pocket money from his French grandparents.

"This is for you," he said earnestly, pressing it into Win's palm with both hands.

"I visited Grandpa and Marie Nana while I was there. She asked about you specifically—wanted to know when you would come with me next time. She sends her love."

Win's expression remained a perfect poker face, brown eyes unreadable beneath arched brows, arms crossed over his chest in lingering defense. Undeterred, Juju shifted tactics seamlessly,

summoning a pitiful pout that exaggerated his lower lip and widened his blue eyes in feigned innocence.

"You know I came directly from Paris without taking any rest whatsoever. Straight off the plane, no sleep at all, just to make it here for you."

He glanced up hopefully, searching Win's face for a c***k. Still stone.Juju sighed theatrically, clasping his hands together in mock supplication.

"I lost track of time completely—my phone died on me, and then I overslept through the alarm. Just scold me properly or hit me if you must, but remember it is my birthday today."

He paused, then corrected himself hastily with a sheepish grin.

"Our birthday, I mean. Okay, okay—I will let you kill me tomorrow as punishment."

Win's lips twitched at last, the corner of his mouth betraying the inevitable thaw. Juju's megawatt smile broke free in full force, dimples carving deep into his cheeks.

"Where are your car keys? I will drive us home."Win retorted swiftly, plucking the keys from his own pocket with a deft flick.

"Why, so you can kill us both on the road from exhaustion? You are clearly tired. I will drive. Get in the passenger seat."

Juju saluted playfully, mock-military crisp.

"Okay, boss. Lead the way."Inside the sleek Mercedes-Maybach, city lights streaking past the tinted windows like comet tails, Juju buckled into the passenger seat, his head already lolling against the soft leather headrest almost instantly.

"Did you call Mom to prepare food for us?" Win asked, pulling smoothly into the flowing traffic of Bangkok's evening arteries.

"Of course I did," Juju mumbled, his eyelids drooping heavily, voice thick with encroaching sleep.

"She knows the full menu—basil chicken, sticky rice, everything. Wake me when we reach home, okay? I need a little nap right now."

"Okay,"

Win replied softly, his tone stripped of all earlier edge. Juju drifted off within seconds, his chest rising and falling in peaceful rhythm, ginger ponytail spilling messily over the headrest like a cascade of autumn fire.

Win glanced sideways at a red light, brown eyes tracing the familiar lines of Juju's sleeping face—the long lashes fanned dark against pale skin, lips parted slightly in repose, the faint freckles dusting his nose from Paris sun. A genuine smile curved Win's lips fully now, warm and unguarded, frustration fully dissolved into quiet contentment. The road home stretched invitingly ahead, their birthday finally, truly complete.