Chapter Text
Starting the day with a meeting with his mother was never a good omen. Despite Jun being a promising young CEO who’d built his company from scratch, it still wasn’t enough for her. She always demanded more of his soul, as if success could only be measured in the pieces of himself he sacrificed.
Arranged marriage.
The words clung to him, thick and suffocating. They’d followed him out of his mother’s pristine dining room, across the parking garage, and now they sat in the passenger seat beside him like an uninvited guest who refused to leave. Jun’s knuckles had gone white against the steering wheel somewhere around the third red light, and he hadn’t been able to unclench them since.
He loosened his tie—it felt like a noose—then tightened it again with trembling fingers before griping the steering wheel again. The haggard look staring back from his rearview mirror showed dark circles no expensive skincare could hide and a tightness around his mouth that made him look older than twenty-five. His reflection looked like a man being marched to his death, knowing the outcome.
The drive to the office should have taken twenty minutes. Jun made it last forty, taking a route that wound through side streets he didn’t really pay attention to, delaying the moment he’d have to step out of the car and pretend his entire future hadn’t just been signed away over. Every traffic light that turned red felt like a small mercy. Every green one felt like betrayal.
Couldn’t his mother just let him meet someone on his own? How was he supposed to force himself to marry a stranger like they were still in the 18th century? But you couldn’t say no to Lohanee. Her name literally meant “lady of metal,” and she was as hard as steel. Her presence filled rooms with an authority that made grown men shrink. Jun was doomed.
His parking spot, labeled with his name, waited for him in the underground garage, a reminder that he owned this building and everything in it. Today, the sight of his name on that little plaque made his stomach turn. He’d built this place to prove he was more than his family’s money, more than the Tangsakultham name. And now his mother was reducing him right back down to it: a name to be married off, a legacy to be continued.
Jun sat in the parked car for far too long, engine off, hands still gripping the wheel. The silence was worse than the noise of traffic had been. In the silence, his mother’s words expanded, filling every corner of his skull. “By year’s end, Jun. Her name is Aya. Her father and yours have been discussing this for years.” Years. They’d been planning this for years, and he’d had no idea.
He tried to push the thoughts aside, knowing he had other fish to fry. An important meeting with sponsors for his new pair of actors loomed, one that could make or break months of planning. Starting an entertainment company had aged him in invisible ways. The hardest part hadn’t been finding young, handsome, aspiring actors—those were plentiful. No, it had been assembling good writers who understood nuance, producers who could stretch budgets without compromising vision, but mostly staff who believed in the mission rather than just collecting paychecks. Jun had lucked out with his friends. What started as a small company producing one BL annually was now thriving with three simultaneous projects, though one still lacked funding.
But even as he mentally catalogued the day’s agenda, the dread kept seeping back in like water through cracks in a wall. It pooled in his gut, heavy and nauseating. None of today’s meetings felt real against the crushing weight of what his mother had just dropped on him. How was he supposed to care about production timelines when his entire personal life had just been auctioned off?
Jun forced himself out of the car. The slam of the door echoed through the concrete garage, and he flinched at the sound as though it were a verdict being delivered. His legs felt leaden as he crossed to the elevator, each step requiring conscious effort, his body rebelling against the performance it knew was about to be demanded of it. He caught his reflection in the elevator’s mirrored doors—hollow-eyed, jaw clenched so tight the muscles in his temples twitched—and deliberately arranged his face into something resembling composure. Mask on. CEO mode. The dread would have to wait.
Putting on his jacket, Jun squared his shoulders and entered like he owned the building—which he did, though some days that felt more burden than achievement. Courteous nods and wais greeted him, and he returned each one automatically, his mouth forming pleasantries while his mind screamed behind his eyes. The hallway to Thame’s office stretched endlessly, every sound scraping against Jun’s frayed nerves. He barely knocked before entering Thame’s office, thinking him to be alone. He needed to talk things out with his best friend before the big meeting.
However, Jun froze at what he found. Facing Thame sat the prettiest grey-haired guy Jun had ever seen, and he’d seen plenty.
The dread stuttered. For one disorienting second, the weight pressing down on Jun’s chest lifted—not gone, but suddenly competing for space with something else entirely that cut clean through the fog of his spiraling thoughts.
The stranger’s eyes were small and slightly upturned, so narrow when he frowned that Jun could barely make out the dark brown irises. His grey hair caught the light from Thame’s window, shimmering almost silver, and it framed a face that was simultaneously delicate and defiant with full lips set in a displeased line. Damn, the kid was gorgeous.
Jun’s brain, which had been drowning in images of wedding ceremonies and his mother’s triumphant smile, suddenly went quiet. Blissfully, mercifully quiet. All that noise and suffocating dread retreated to the edges of his awareness, shoved aside by something far more immediate: the visceral need to know who this person was.
Jun could always count on Thame to find the best recruits. Even without upcoming projects, Jun would create something for a face like that.
The grey-haired beauty looked him up and down with obvious displeasure, clearly not knowing he faced his boss. And Jun latched onto the irritation in those narrow eyes, the sheer audacity of this stranger looking at him like he was an inconvenience. It was absurd and refreshing. Here was a problem he could actually engage with.
Jun loved brats and loved taming them even more. With his most condescending tone, Jun simply said, “You’re dismissed.”
He heard Thame’s long-suffering sigh, a sound his best friend had perfected over years of witnessing his antics. Jun’s sole focus remained on the pretty boy in front of him, who only cocked an eyebrow in response, the gesture slow and deliberate, almost mocking in its nonchalance. The kid didn’t move an inch, his body language screaming defiance as he remained seated, before turning to Thame with a look that clearly asked, “is this guy serious?”
And just like that, Jun wasn’t thinking about Aya or year-end deadlines. He was thinking about grey hair and a scowl that shouldn’t have been this captivating, and the desperate relief of having somewhere else to put his attention was intoxicating.
“You can go, Dylan. Nano will take over. First office on the right,” Thame said nicely.
Without a word, Dylan stood gracefully. He pressed his hands together in respect to Thame—pointedly not to Jun—and sent one last death glare Jun’s way before walking out. Jun caught lavender scent as Dylan passed, and the fragrance wrapped around him like a whisper. Damn, he even smelled good.
Jun watched him march into Nano’s office, mesmerized by the picture he made, hips swaying with confidence. Only when Dylan disappeared into Nano’s office did Jun close the door to Thame’s office, giving them privacy and reluctantly dragging his attention away from where the grey-haired beauty had vanished.
The dread rushed back in the moment Dylan was gone, filling the space Dylan’s presence had briefly emptied. Jun felt it settle over him again like a wet coat—heavy and impossible to shake. The contrast was dizzying. One second of relief, and then right back under.
“Who is that?” Jun asked, forgetting his original purpose entirely. His mother’s demands had been temporarily overwritten by a grey-haired stranger with a bad attitude. “I didn’t know we were recruiting.”
“Dylan Zhou. New intern. Very promising He was top of his class and already interned at three major labels. My plan is to get him running music production.”
Music. Jun had indeed said he wanted to dive deeper into that field. Seemed like Thame had once again manifested his wishes.
“Not an actor, then?” Disappointment colored Jun’s tone. He sounded too eager, earning another sigh from Thame.
“What do you want, Jun?” Thame asked pointedly.
Okay, okay, back to business, then. One couldn’t even get slightly distracted without Thame calling him on it, but it was also why Jun had brought Thame in with him from the beginning. To keep him grounded, to keep him from making rash, stupid decisions fueled by hormones or impulse that would end up ruining everything he’d worked for, everything they’d built together.
“I fired Sunny last night.”
Genuine surprise crossed Thame’s face. “But Sunny was perfect! She lasted three months, Jun. Three whole months. That’s a record.”
Jun couldn’t keep assistants longer than three months. If he didn’t end up sleeping with them—yeah, cliché, he knew, and he wasn’t proud of blurring those lines—they messed up badly or made things awkward by flirting when he wasn’t interested. Sunny had been perfect… Until she spilled wine on an investor, then tried wiping it off his crotch in front of his wife. And then ended the night by trying to stay in Jun’s good graces by offering herself to him in the parking lot. Long story short, he drove her home in uncomfortable silence broken only by her occasional sniffles, wrote her a hefty check because she had been a great assistant up until that spectacular implosion and told her never to show her face at the company ever again.
Thame’s face grew more horrified with each detail.
“Shit, Jun! Do you think I can find replacements by snapping my fingers? I have three other positions to fill this week!”
Well, kind of. Thame had been good so far at finding the perfect people for each spot, an almost supernatural ability to match person to position. Well, except for Jun’s assistant position, but Jun was complicated, so he wasn’t surprised it was such a struggle. And then, an idea popped into his brain.
“What about pretty boy? New intern, right? Can’t he do the interim?”
If Jun ended up sleeping with his assistant again, he’d make sure to keep him in the company at a different position. Win-win. But Thame’s stormy look stopped him before he could develop that thought.
“Do you have any idea how hard it was to convince Dylan to come here instead of major labels? I practically begged. I promised opportunities, creative freedom. I did not promise him that he’d be babysitting my man-child best friend.”
That startled Jun. Was the kid really that good? Their pay was competitive but not high enough to lure youngsters from bigger companies. Their appeal was the friendly work environment and quick growth prospects.
Jun didn’t ask more. Time was running out before his meeting, and he had another topic for his best friend, not his HR head. Personal, not professional. The dread swelled again, pressing against his throat, and Jun had to swallow twice before he could speak.
“You feel ready to be my best man?”
“You can’t possibly think of marrying Dylan after thirty seconds,” Thame replied, exasperated but amused.
Jun deserved that. Given his track record of impulsive decisions and whirlwind romances that burned bright and fast, it wouldn’t be completely crazy for Thame to think this. But, unfortunately for Jun, that had nothing to do with the new recruit, as appealing as the idea suddenly seemed.
“Not talking about pretty boy. My mother’s decided I should be married by year’s end and found me the perfect match.”
The words landed in the room like a grenade with the pin pulled. Saying them to Thame made the situation irrevocable in a way that his mother’s pronouncement hadn’t quite achieved. His mother’s words had felt like a threat, suffocating, but still abstract. Saying them to Thame made them a fact.
Thame’s frustration melted into genuine concern. That didn’t help Jun at all. He wasn’t here for pity or to be coddled. He wanted a shoulder to whine on, permission to be weak for just a moment, and, most of all, a game plan. But seeing that concern on Thame’s face—the way his best friend’s expression shifted from annoyance to something softer, something almost grief-stricken on Jun’s behalf—made the dread crystallize into something that felt permanent.
Jun knew his playboy reputation was mostly deserved. But he’d always been faithful in relationships. He had no doubt that when finding the one, he’d settle down without hesitation. He was still searching—and his mother had apparently decided she’d waited long enough. Which was crazy, because he was only twenty-five. He had time, or at least he thought he did.
“You can’t be serious,” Thame finally said.
“I wish! Her name is Aya. Daughter of one of my dad’s business partners. They’ve apparently been discussing this alliance for years. I’m supposed to have dinner with her Saturday.”
The more Jun spoke, the more bewildered Thame looked. Jun was just as dumbstruck, still struggling to process everything his mum had talked about in that morning meeting. Of course, his dad had been absent from the meeting, always managing to avoid such discussions with convenient business trips or sudden emergencies. He knew his father wouldn’t be able to side with Jun anyway, wouldn’t stand up to his wife even for his son. It was maddening to know his dad was mostly reasonable—progressive even, in other aspects of life—but was awfully ill-equipped to say no to his wife, rendered helpless by decades of conditioning and the path of least resistance.
“I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. Your parents met through arrangement,” Thame said unhelpfully, reminding Jun even more of why his mother found it to be the perfect choice, the natural order of things. She saw her own marriage as proof of concept, ignoring the years of cold politeness Jun had witnessed, the separate bedrooms and perfunctory affection.
“Just wanted to let you know so you can get ready, because there’s no way I’m going through this without you by my side.”
Jun wasn’t one to seek help in such matters. But he couldn’t imagine chaining himself to someone unwillingly without his core support—mainly Thame, his brother in everything but blood, and by extension Po.
“Jun, are you really going to marry this girl?”
It was cute how Thame thought he had an escape route. What could Jun do when his mother was dead set? He had no alternative to show for himself. His brain unhelpfully supplied an image of the grey-haired pouty beauty who’d just left, and the dread loosened its grip for half a second before clamping down harder. Because that was crazy. He didn’t know the kid, and bringing a man into this wouldn’t help. He didn’t think his mother was homophobic per se—she had gay friends, donated to the right causes—but she expected an heir, and she expected Jun to marry a woman. Those expectations were carved in stone, immutable as the laws of physics.
“I don’t really have a choice.”
But Jun wasn’t fully defeated yet, couldn’t let himself be, not when there was still fight left in him. He still had some time to fight back and find a solution, even if the clock was ticking down with every passing second. Right now, it was too fresh. His mind was still reeling from the morning’s ambush, every thought circling back to the same suffocating conclusion before scattering again. But maybe there was a way out, even if he couldn’t see it yet. He just needed time to strategize and find the loophole in his mother’s perfect plan.
And he needed the dread to stop drowning out everything else long enough for him to actually think.
“Are you sure you can’t lend me pretty boy for a few days while you find someone to replace Sunny?” Jun insisted, too willing to grasp at any distraction, desperate for something to focus on besides the impending disaster of his personal life. The request came out more urgent than it should have, and Jun knew exactly why. Dylan had been in his line of sight for less than two minutes, and in those two minutes, the crushing weight on Jun’s chest had eased enough for him to breathe. Besides, something about Dylan intrigued him, a pull he wanted to explore even if it was monumentally stupid.
Thame sighed. “I’ll see what I can do. Please don’t scare him away. He could be a real asset, Jun. We need him.”
Jun nodded, promising good behavior, then headed to his meeting. He’d be fine without an assistant temporarily, inconvenient but manageable, but he needed one quickly to handle all the paperwork and his calendar, the administrative burden that threatened to drown him. The company didn’t need him as much anymore, had grown beyond his day-to-day involvement in many ways, but he was still the face, the name needed to sign paperwork and the one handling all the big meetings with sponsors, the public persona that gave investors confidence.
As Jun walked toward the conference room, his mind churned with arranged marriages and grey-haired interns, obligations and attractions. The future felt like it was closing in, and for the first time in his adult life, Jun genuinely didn’t know how to save himself.