Only Friends: Dream On.

Upon arrival, Rome, who was accompanied by Raffy, was unexpectedly ushered behind the studio by the crew. They mistook Rome for an aide or close associate of Runchalee, the celebrity's son, who was a key guest on the show that day. Ranchalee was stunning and elegant. She walked in with a regal bearing and a special aura befitting her status as a top actress of the past era. She glanced at her son with a moment of disapproval before giving her trademark smile to Rome, who stood awkwardly beside her.

 

"Who is this?"

 

"Grab," the son answered his mother curtly. Rome chuckled, but still spoke to Ranchalee with the courtesy he had been taught.

 

"I'm Raffy's friend. His car broke down, so I offered to give him a ride."

 

"Oh no," Ranchalee looked at her son again, "How could the car break down? Raf didn't take it."

 

"Do you have the kids at home check the car every month, as Mom told you?"

Rome let out a smile. "That's little Raffy..."

Raffy was so embarrassed that he wanted to bury his face in the ground. He hated it when his mother called him in front of a public audience; he would say, "Let's put that matter aside for now. I'm doing my best to hurry."

 

"Why are you still wearing a student uniform? We're going to be on a TV show. Together with Mom in this outfit."

 

"I rushed here from the university. What could I possibly wear?"

 

"Change it," the voice was cold. "It's good that Mom told the team to prepare."

 

"I knew this would happen. I had a feeling it would be like this." Ranchalee turned to look at the crew.

 

"Call the stylist to bring in the clothes," everyone readily obeyed, and before long, they were running around busily, acting as instructed.

 

"Raff is 180 centimetres tall, wears a size M shirt and size 43 shoes."

 

"I wear number forty-two."

 

"My son wears size forty-three," Runchalee smiled. How could her son know better than his mother? "You read the question I sent you on Line, right? Answer well. The host is a producer; maybe he'll call you to act in a show."

 

"Your clothes are ready," a female staff member bowed and approached, looking at Raffy with excessive admiration. "Wow, such good skin, and so handsome. He'll probably become a famous star like his mother someday."

 

"You can call Raff in for an audition. He's very talented. He's currently studying acting and could even be the lead in a play by his faculty. I guarantee you won't be disappointed."

 

Raffy, utterly exasperated, shooed Peedfid along with the crew, leaving Rome, who had witnessed everything before, frowning in bewilderment. He felt his own ordinary life seemed perfect in comparison to the problems these people were causing.

 

Rome decided to stay and watch the show's filming because he had nothing else to do that day. He kept his arms crossed the entire time Runchalee was interviewing him, wondering why the life of one celebrity was so smooth—a model...a famous actress...

She married a billionaire... and eventually had a handsome son... who is now a leading actor in the Thai entertainment industry. Some people are truly born with good fortune, aren't they?

 

"Finally, Ms Ranchalee, would you like to say something to the fans who are watching the show?" the host asked at the end of the interview.

 

"By the end of this year, there will probably be a drama for everyone to watch. I guarantee you'll stop missing it."

 

"Of course... I really wanted to entrust my son to you," Ranchalee glanced at the person beside her. Raffy's face automatically fell.

 

"Soon, Raff will be performing in a play by the troupe. Everyone is probably familiar with them, as it's an annual tradition. This year, Raff will be playing the lead role. Tickets will go on sale soon. Please follow the news and support my son!"

 

Rome, who had been listening quietly in the studio, couldn't help but chuckle when the filming was over. He decided to go backstage to find Raffy. He stood peeking from the dressing room door, watching the other man angrily wiping off his makeup. Rome knocked softly on the door, making Raffy jump before realising who it was.

 

"I thought you had gone back already."

 

"Not yet," the young DJ said, "and I listened to your interview too. No... I listened to your mother's interview."

 

"They are interviewing her on your behalf."

 

"Okay then."

 

"You're just as much of a coward as I am," Rome said, pulling a chair over to sit down. 

 

"You lied to your mother that you got to be the lead actor in a theatrical troupe?"

 

"I didn't tell her!" Raffy immediately retorted in a serious tone, the look in his eyes making Rome, who was originally intended as a tease, immediately freeze.

 

"My mom added that in herself. I never said anything to her. I don't have a habit of exaggerating or taking credit for others. I know I was just an extra. I'm not shameless enough to brag about myself to my mom."

"I didn't mean it like that..."

 

"You can think whatever you want about me, but I'm just telling you as a son that my mother was never satisfied with anything about me. I was never good enough in her eyes."

 

It was as if Rome was about to say something, but ultimately swallowed his words. He looked at Raffy understandingly, able to see how upset he was. In fact, he had noticed it since the mother and son gave their interview during the show's filming.

 

"Are you planning to chase after Jack again today?"

 

Raffy looked like he was about to scold, but Rome quickly got up from his chair and snatched the bag. The other person took it and held it.

 

"Because if not, you have to have dinner with me right now." Raffy paused. "Are you not mad at me about Jack anymore?"

 

"Why would I get angry…?" Rome smirked provocatively, "If you want to get Jack, go ahead. But know this: I'm the only one right now who has always had you."

 

Raffy froze, unsure how to react to that statement... embarrassed or shy? But one thing was certain: he was overjoyed that Rome was finally talking to him.

 

"Go ahead. You wanted me to be a Grab driver, didn't you? Do you know that hiring Grab for the whole day is a lot? It's expensive."

 

Finally, Raffy stood up. Rome smiled as he nudged him from behind, urging him to hurry and get out of the studio. They tiptoed away quietly, without saying goodbye to the crew or even Ranchalee.

 

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Even though at the time, Tua was just using Arnold's name to get out of dinner with Boston, he eventually took Arnold out to dinner. They chose a restaurant...Mexican food. Arnold was quite nervous and excited because this was his first time in this type of restaurant. The young man was amazed by the pictures of the food, which were accompanied by prices much higher than what he usually paid. Tua noticed his demeanour and offered to help him.

 

"Don't overthink it. Just order whatever you want. You're hungry, aren't you?"

"I was trying to be selective. Since I get to eat something like this, I wanted to order something I could eat. And then I felt full."

 

"My method is, if I don't know what to eat, I just tell the staff, 'I want everything. One of each on the menu page.”

 

"That's funny," Arnold laughed at Tua's joke, but the fun ended abruptly when an uninvited guest suddenly appeared near their table. Boston smiled slyly, glancing back and forth between the two of them.

 

"Wow, we're eating at the same restaurant!"

 

When Tua saw Boston's face, he froze instantly. Arnold also quickly turned to look at the person next to him. Observing their demeanour with concern. Boston was completely unaware of his unwelcome arrival. He casually sat down in an empty chair, snatched the menu from Arnold, and began browsing the menu before acting as if he had just remembered something.

 

"Yeah, I wanted to ask you that during practice," Boston said to Arnold.

 

"Are you free tomorrow night?"

 

"I'm free, why?"

 

Boston glanced at Tua, who was looking back at him with a wary expression, for a moment. Then he smiled with delight.

 

"It's about the profile picture photos we talked about. I'm free right now, maybe I can use your picture to help promote the studio."

 

"Arnold's not available," Tua replied with a displeased tone. Boston ignored the refusal.

 

"This job is so easy, you just pose for photos, and you get paid."

 

"Are they giving me money too?" Arnold asked.

 

The person in question felt uneasy because they knew how much the other party needed the money. If Boston were to use this as leverage, it would play right into their hands.

 

"That's great! What kind of person do you think I am?"

 

"It won't take long, right? If it's not long, I can do it."

 

He clutched Tua tightly. He had anticipated this outcome. Boston was so delighted that he snapped his fingers, whistled cheerfully, and glared at the Tua mockingly.

 

"Okay, then I'll see you tomorrow at the studio..." Boston glanced at the Tua again.

Before emphasising the phrase "at night".

 

"I'm really busy during the day, Arnold."

 

"No problem. See you later," Arnold agreed.

 

"I think I've changed my mind. Let's go eat ramen instead. You guys eat to your heart's content," Boston stood up from his seat, waved goodbye to the two, and walked out of the restaurant in a good mood.

 

The boss, Gorabhos, and Arnold were both annoyed, but he had agreed to go to the photoshoot. His profile is the same; he's lost his appetite and wants to go home.

 

"What's wrong? Is there anything you'd like to eat in particular?" But Arnold's voice made him change his mind. His sullen expression instantly turned into a forced smile. He wanted to spend time with the other man while he had the chance, because he had a premonition that Boston was about to take him away from him.

 

"No, you order it."

 

Arnold made sure Tua was undamaged, then raised his arm to call a staff member to order food.

 

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Timmy was the one who organised everyone to come over for drinks and a celebration at the bar. The Pink Pony Club has an announcement to make today.

 

"Our play got a sponsor, yayyy! Cheers!!!" 

 

Everyone at the table cheered, except for Dean, who sat yawning and staring at his friends, fed up

 

"Damn, that much money is probably only enough to hang a black cloth for the stage. Who knows if it'll even reach the clothes for that guy."

 

The person mentioned wasn't everyone involved. Tua kept staring at his phone, checking Boston and Arnold’s Instagram stories every two minutes. Seeing his friend acting strangely, he frowned and asked, concerned but also in a teasing tone.

 

(Falling into a coma)

"What's wrong now, drama queen?"

 

"No, I'm fine."

 

Dean looked at his friend from head to toe; he looked like someone whose soul had left his body. Even after all that, you still dare to say that? Timmy didn't let the atmosphere get awkward.

 

"With this kind of money, you have to please the sponsors, understand? Everyone, especially you, Jack! If the sponsors want to put up their logo on a billboard in the theatre, whether it's the size of a washbasin or whatever, you have to agree. Understand?!"

 

Jack nodded wearily. In truth, he wished the theatre were empty to help create a better atmosphere for the play, but, as they say, we live in a capitalist world where money is paramount. Timmy was pleased to see the talented director's dejected expression. It was rare for him to obey so readily without arguing. He quickly called a waiter to order another beer tower to celebrate another achievement.

 

Dean seemed still infatuated with him. The Prince of Fine Arts squeezed closer to his friend and tried to peer at his cell phone. He quickly locked the screen, not wanting the other person to see.

 

"Hey, you can tell me anything."

 

"I told you there isn't," he replied, trying to hide his tense expression. "Okay, suit yourself. I'm going to the restroom then." Dean was too tired to keep pestering him. Let your friend handle the drama on their own.

 

The bar was unusually crowded today because it was a holiday, so it wasn't surprising to see people lined up along the walkway to the restrooms, causing a traffic jam. Dean tried to push his way through the crowd to use the service. He walked past a table of his fellow university students who were quite drunk. One of them was causing a ruckus and making a lot of noise, leaving some of the other guests looking disgusted.

 

Dean was about to walk past when he was suddenly attacked with a mysterious hand slapping his buttocks hard. He quickly turned around, displeased, but the man showed no remorse, instead smirking and taunting him as if he enjoyed it.

 

"How much do you charge for grabbing my butt like this, James Dean?"

 

"It's free," Dean grinned. "But why don't you try touching your mom's? She has something similar. Let's do it together."

 

"Hey, you bastard! Are you insulting my mother?" The other person became furious.

"That's a shame! Aren't you a prostitute?!"

 

"Wrong," Dean pointed his finger at the plaintiff, mimicking a TV host on One Channel. "I'm an escort, it's different. But you look stupid. I won't hold it against you, but let me tell you, if I were a prostitute, I wouldn't sell myself to a filthy pig like you."

 

A fist landed squarely on Dean's face, instantly blinding him, but he still had enough presence of mind to retaliate with an uppercut to the other man's chin. The man, enraged, lunged at Dean again but was restrained by his friends. Some of the friends who were still conscious quickly apologised, their faces showing remorse. But they couldn't hold him for long. The troublemaker shook off his friend's arm and lunged at Dean again. 

 

This time, Jack, who had just walked into the situation, quickly pulled Dean away, and the punch landed squarely on Jack's temple. Without waiting for the pain to take its toll, Jack kicked the other man, sending him tumbling over and smashing a table. But the troublemaker continued to yell insults.

 

"What the hell are you interfering with, you bastard?!"

 

"Still not stopping, huh? Want another kick in the face?!" Jack was about to attack again, but Dean grabbed his arm, holding him back. He changed his mind, instead taking Dean's hand and leading him through the onlookers, clearly annoyed.

 

"What the hell? I just looked away for a second, and there's trouble already?" Timmy sighed, watching Dean dotingly attend to the director with worried eyes, but ultimately choosing to drink beer instead. The young producer went to enjoy himself with acquaintances at another table. Dean winced when Jack groaned upon touching the painful spot. Luckily, his head wasn't cracked open, just a bruise that would probably swell up soon. The Prince of Sin quickly grabbed some ice wrapped in tissue paper to apply, hoping to alleviate the pain.

 

"So, you were a director, but you didn't like it? You wanted to be a leading actor?"

 

"Shut up," Jack glared. "I was only nice to you for a little while, and you're already causing trouble."

 

"You've got me into trouble again."

 

"Look at how you're talking, it's so rude. What do you want me to do?" He smiled and said,

 

"Thanks for grabbing my butt, hahaha!"

 

"Not quite that bad."

 

"Yeah," Dean said, crossing his arms. "If someone like me is going to be touched, then so be it. I need the money!"

 

Dean only intended to make a joke to break the tension, but Jack didn't seem to find it funny. "You're still not giving up, are you?"

 

"So what am I supposed to do? I can't change my past. The only thing I can do is learning to live with it."

 

"See? You still want to be a philosopher," Jack said with a grin.

 

Before making eye contact with his ex, Dean blushed and pretended to roll his eyes to cover his embarrassment. He stood up and slipped into Jack's arms, sitting on his lap. Jack flinched as if it were heavy, but didn't object, allowing Dean to wrap his arms around his neck.

 

"I really want to show you a new person. I told you I'd be a new Dean."

 

"Phu believes you can do it," Jack said from the heart. "At least we've seen it now. I'm telling you, you've become stronger."

 

Dean's eyes flickered for a moment, his playful demeanour vanishing. He was grateful to hear those words from Jack.

"Thank you for helping."

 

"No problem"

 

"But you've always helped me, haven't you?" Dean's voice trembled as if he were about to cry.

 

"Jack..."

 

"How is it going?"

 

"Do you still love me at all?"

 

Jack paused, as if using this moment to ponder the question. He met the other's gaze, looking deeply into it with scrutiny. Soon, he slowly lowered the hand holding the ice pack and leaned in to share a passionate kiss—a slow kiss amidst the chaos of the bar, as if the world consisted only of the two of them. But Dean pulled away from the kiss when he suddenly felt something was wrong, before looking around the table.

 

"Where did Tua go?"

 

Jack shook his head, saying he didn't know either. Dean worried about his friend for a moment, but finally shrugged. He knew his friend could take care of himself, and then kissed Jack again, and the feeling was just as wonderful as the first time.

 

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Arnold's eyes scanned the photographs of the well-built male models that Boston had brought as examples, with great interest. Boston smiled slyly as he walked over with a can of beer, before handing one to Arnold. Arnold took the beer and drank before asking a question.

 

"Am I really going to look this good?"

 

"Good job, you already have a great physique," Boston said. "If you're ready, take off your shirt. I'll go set up the camera first."

 

Arnold spent more time looking at the pictures before finishing his beer can and taking off his shirt without hesitation, revealing the muscular physique and perfect build of someone disciplined by exercise and dance practice. He walked over to Boston, who had just finished setting up his camera. The photographer signaled that he was ready, and Arnold walked to the marked spot—a tall chair in the center of the frame.

 

"Should I post it?"

 

"Yeah, post whatever you want."

 

Arnold sat down in the chair, then raised his arms, revealing his muscular arms and toned abdomen. Boston gazed at the handsome physique with a hidden meaning in his eyes. He smiled subtly as he continuously pressed the shutter button.

 

"Have you and Tua been close for a long time?"

 

"Since my first year," Arnold answered the photographer's question.

 

"You’re really close," Boston said before a flash of light illuminated the scene.

 

"I pressed the shutter," Arnold remarked, "but he doesn't look like a friend. He looks like something else." He stopped posing immediately, getting down from his chair to stand at his full height, his face expressionless as if displeased. Boston, however, raised an eyebrow, seemingly deliberately provoking him.

 

"The real reason I came was to talk to you about Tua," the model said. "Stop making him uncomfortable. You can see he doesn't like it."

 

"So what does he like? Is it you?" That question made Arnold pause for a moment.

 

"I'm just worried about him. I'm not sure about anything else, but what I am sure of is that someone like Tua is too good for you."

 

Arnold approached the photographer as if to intimidate him, his tall figure towering over the camera tripod as if deliberately looking for trouble. Boston, however, remained unfazed, walking towards the other man fearlessly before stopping just inches away, close enough to feel each other's breath.

 

"And if I agree to stop interfering with Tua, what will I get?" Boston smirked.

 

"Do you have any interesting offers to make in exchange?" Boston moved closer to Arnold, leaning in and burying his nose in his neck, playfully nuzzling him. However, a studio door suddenly burst open, revealing a startled figure staring at them.

 

"What are you guys doing?"

 

"Wow, you even followed me?" Boston pulled away from Arnold. "Why? Did you think I was going to do anything to your friend?"

 

"What exactly are you about to do?" Tua entered the set, looking at the two men alternately before squeezing in front of Arnold.

 

"Calm down, we're just talking. We haven't gotten anywhere yet," Boston deliberately continued to tease. "Arnold told me to stop bothering you, but he seemed to want to say something just now... What was it, Arnold? You have feelings for him, don't you?"

 

"Me..." Arnold stammered, feeling even more flustered by Tua’s suspicious gaze.

 

"How's that pose, man?" Boston swung his arms over his shoulders to show his coolness. The owner said, "Talk to him like you told me to. If you won’t, I'll take him first."

 

Boston was about to kiss the other person on the cheek, but Arnold, being quicker, snatched Tua and stole a kiss right in front of them. The other person was stunned, their eyes wide with shock, but couldn't resist the greedy, almost devouring touch. They couldn't pull away from the other person at all.

 

It turned out that Boston was particularly pleased. He watched the two kiss with a satisfied smile before walking over and resting his chin on Arnold's shoulder, one hand gently tilting Tua’s chin towards him, clearly wanting to join in as the third person without any embarrassment. Tua, lost in the passionate kiss, almost let himself be carried away by the emotions, if Arnold hadn't pulled him aside and hidden him behind him.

 

"Leave me alone!"

 

Arnold walked over and grabbed Tua's shirt while still holding his hand tightly. The two of them walked out of the studio, leaving Boston standing alone, watching them go.

...with a smile.