Chapter 1: Last Reaction
The stupid ring light was cooking my face like a rotisserie chicken.
I blinked into the camera, wiping sweat off my forehead with my “BL is Life” sweatshirt sleeve. One more scene. One more reaction. Then I could collapse into bad decisions and packing cubes.
“Alright, fam,” I said into the mic, voice cracking from too much screaming over fictional boyfriends. “Last episode before I yeet myself across the world. Let’s do this.”
I hit play, and My Softest Goodbye’s opening notes blasted through my headphones. Instantly, my heart squeezed. The two leads sat under a frangipani tree, looking at each other like the universe was ending and they’d never kiss again.
God. I’m such a simp.
I leaned closer, narrating between half-sobs and gasps. “No, no, no, don’t you dare back away from him, Kao! Kiss him like your ancestors depend on it!”
Ten minutes later, when the final credits rolled, I ripped off my headphones and threw myself dramatically onto my bed, limbs starfished out like I’d fought in a war.
“AND THAT’S HOW YOU DO A FINAL EPISODE,” I declared to the ceiling.
The camera was still rolling, so I pushed myself upright and grinned into the lens. “Alright, loves. That’s it for me! I’m off to Thailand tomorrow. If I disappear for a few weeks, don’t call the FBI. I’m just gonna be living my best soft gay life abroad. Thank you for being the best fandom in the world. Love you guys. Ket out.”
I threw up a heart sign and ended the recording with a satisfying click.
The silence that followed was weirdly deafening. Just me, my overworked laptop, my tower of half-finished energy drinks, and the framed photo of Mek Pasut Kunamasayawan smiling serenely from the bookshelf behind me.
I caught his eyes by accident and immediately looked away, like a teenager caught crushing on his high school lab partner.
“Don’t judge me,” I muttered at the photo. “I’m just… passionate.”
I stood up, stretching until my back popped, and surveyed the chaos. Plushies littered the couch. My passport peeked out from under tangled charging cables. A wrinkled list titled “THAILAND OR BUST” was taped to the wall, half the items crossed off.
Passport? Check.
Flight tickets? Check.
Emergency copies of travel docs? Check.
Thai phrase cheat sheet? …Sorta check.
Courage? …Pending.
I yawned so hard my jaw cracked and stumbled over to shut down my filming setup. The second I turned off the ring light, the room plunged into golden dusk, my fairy lights flickering to life like little stars.
God, I was really doing this.
Flying halfway around the world.
Chasing some ridiculous fantasy that real life could be as magical as a BL drama.
Maybe I was insane.
Maybe I was finally brave enough to be.
I had just started gathering my half-packed suitcase when my phone buzzed loudly against the desk.
I glanced down, expecting a “Don’t forget your adapters!” text from Bee Bee.
Instead, it was a FaceTime call.
Bee Bee
My stomach dropped.
I snatched up the phone and answered immediately. “Boo, what’s wrong? You good?”
The screen blinked into life and there was Bee Bee, lying in a hospital bed, her hair laid for the gods.
“Heyyyyy,” she said weakly, flashing a thumbs-up.
I stared at her for a long beat. Then, very calmly, I said: “What. The actual. Hell.”
The screen froze before Bee Bee’s face reappeared—wincing, but still trying to smile like this wasn’t the world’s most obvious disaster.
“You look like you got hit by a truck,” I said, heart pounding.
Bee Bee shrugged awkwardly. “Nah, just some stairs. And gravity. Gravity’s a bitch.”
I sat down heavily in my desk chair, still clutching the phone. “Explain. Now.”
“So, I was trying to carry my suitcase down to the Uber, right? One hand on my bag, one hand on my phone—’cause I was texting you a meme, obviously—and boom! My heel caught. I flew down three steps, twisted my ankle, and somehow broke my foot.”
She lifted her casted leg slightly like grim show-and-tell.
I pressed the heel of my hand to my forehead. “You messed up your foot? The night before Thailand?”
Bee Bee made a tiny “oops” face. “Yeeeep.”
Stunned silence stretched between us.
Finally, I said, “Okay. Fine. We just postpone. No biggie. You heal, we rebook later.”
Bee Bee bit her lip.
“What,” I said, already sensing incoming doom.
“Sooo…funny story…” she said in her most guilty voice, which instantly set off every alarm bell in my body. “Your ticket’s non-refundable.”
I blinked. “…Excuse me?”
“I double-checked just now. Remember when we were rushing to buy the tickets because the sale was ending? Yeah. I only got travel insurance on mine.”
“You insured yourself,” I repeated slowly, “but not me.”
She nodded, all wide eyes and innocent regret. “Yup. Total accident. Love you!”
I leaned back in my chair, stared at the ceiling, and let out a noise somewhere between a groan and a death rattle.
“Boo,” Bee Bee said softly. “I know it’s scary. But this is fate.”
“Fate?” I squawked. “You breaking your foot is fate?”
“Maybe not the foot part. But you? Going to Thailand alone? You gotta do it, Ket. You were meant to.”
“I can’t even order Starbucks in Thai. You want me to survive Bangkok solo?”
“You know enough,” she insisted. “You’ve been practicing with me for months! You can say ‘hello,’ ‘thank you,’ ‘where’s the bathroom,’ and more importantly—‘this boy is cute.’”
I buried my face in my hands. “This is a disaster.”
“This is an adventure,” Bee Bee countered, grinning from her hospital bed like the world’s most chaotic fairy godmother. “Come on. You’ve been talking about Thailand forever. All the BL locations, the food, the beach selfies. You’re gonna kill it.”
I peeked at her through my fingers. “And what if I get lost? Or mugged? Or culturally offend someone and get deported?”
“Then you’ll have a great story to tell during our next reaction collab.”
“Not funny.”
“A little funny.”
I dropped my hands with a dramatic sigh, feeling the weight of the decision settle on my chest. I could cancel. Eat the cost of the ticket. Stay home, safe and boring.
Or I could go.
Terrified, unprepared, and utterly alone.
But maybe…for the first time in my life…open to something bigger than my fear.
Bee Bee must’ve seen the shift in my face, because she beamed.
“That’s my brave boy,” she said, tapping her cast lightly. “Do it for me. Do it for all the fictional gay boys we cried over at 3 a.m.”
I laughed, shaky but real. “You’re the worst motivational speaker.”
“And yet you’re convinced. Funny how that works.”
I shook my head, a reluctant smile pulling at my lips. “Fine. I’ll go.”
Bee Bee let out a triumphant whoop that earned her a scolding from a passing nurse.
“Text me when you land, okay?” she said, lowering her voice. “And call me if you need anything. I’ll be on FaceTime 24/7.”
“Thanks, boo.”
“Love you, boo.”
We hung up, and for a moment, I just sat there in the golden fairy light of my room, staring at my open suitcase.
Tomorrow.
Thailand.
Alone.
I glanced once more at the framed photo of Mek on my bookshelf. His smile looked a little too knowing tonight.
“Don’t look at me like that,” I mumbled at him.
Then, softer: “Maybe I’ll see you there.”
I turned off the lights, the room sinking into a sleepy purple glow, and pulled my suitcase closer.
Time to pack for destiny.
