The kiss ended slowly, both of them breathing hard, foreheads pressed together, reluctant to pull away. Win's hands were still fisted in Ratch's shirt, Ratch's arms holding him tightly around his waist, and for a moment, the world consisted of nothing but the sound of their ragged breathing, the sound of their pounding hearts, and the distant hum of campus life continuing around them.
Ratch pulled back just enough to meet Win's eyes, his voice low and rough with satisfaction. "You see? Your body remembers what we have."
Win's breath hitched, but his walls snapped back into place almost immediately, his voice carefully controlled. "What we had."
The correction hung between them like a challenge. Ratch's jaw tightened at the past tense, but before he could respond, Win was already pulling away, smoothing his shirt and avoiding Ratch's gaze.
"I have to go," Win said, glancing over at Pat, his voice steadier than he felt. "My best friend is waiting on me and I already have to explain to him whatever the hell this was that just happened between us."
Ratch caught his wrist as he tried to step around him. "Win—"
"Don't." Win's voice was sharp, protective. "Don't make this more complicated than it already is."
He pulled free and walked quickly toward the main walkway, leaving Ratch standing there, frustration and determination warring in his expression.
From his position near the building steps, Pat watched the entire exchange with growing concern. He'd seen the kiss, seen the way Win had melted and then immediately pulled away, and now he was watching his best friend practically flee across the quad.
Win's phone buzzed twice in quick succession. The first message contained a photo of him and Ratch kissing, their bodies pressed together, clearly taken from a distance but sharp enough to be unmistakable. The second showed Win walking away from Ratch moments later.
Now was that worth it? Priceless.
Win's steps faltered as he stared at the messages, blood draining from his face. Now he knew someone was definitely watching him. He had proof. Someone had been close enough to capture everything.
Win made it to where Pat was standing, his best friend's expression a mix of surprise and knowing smile. Pat looked him up and down, then shook his head with a grin.
"Now I know you're going to tell me what the hell is going on right now and who was that," Pat said, taking one last look at Ratch still standing by the side of the building before slinging his arm around Win's shoulders. "Let's go grab some lunch and I want to hear everything. Leave nothing out."
Win shook his head, not trusting his voice. His lips still tingled from Ratch's kiss, and his heart was hammering against his ribs, but the photos on his phone had confirmed his worst fears - he really was being watched. The confusion and fear he'd been feeling now had proof.
"Win," Pat said gently, noticing his friend's pale complexion. "I saw how you looked and reacted to him. So help me understand something."
"What?" Win asked.
"Why are you running when it's clear you have feelings for each other?"
Win finally stopped walking, turning to face his friend. "You don't understand, Pat. It's complicated."
"Then explain it to me."
Win glanced around the busy campus, students flowing past them with backpacks and coffee cups, everyone moving with purpose while he felt completely lost. "There's history. Things that happened before university that I can't just... forget."
Pat nodded, not pushing for details. "But do you want to forget?"
The question hit Win harder than he expected. Did he want to forget? Forget the way Ratch's hands felt on his skin, the way he'd felt completely seen and wanted? Forget the summer that had changed everything?
"I don't know," Win admitted quietly.
"Then maybe that's your answer," Pat said. "Maybe you don't have to decide everything right now. Maybe you just have to stop running long enough to figure out what you actually want."
Meanwhile, Ratch returned to the cybersecurity club booth, his friends now watching him curiously. His phone buzzed with messages, and he pulled it out to find two photos. The first showed him and Win kissing, their bodies pressed together, clearly taken from a distance but sharp enough to be unmistakable. The second captured him watching Win walk away, the expression on his face looking broken and defeated.
A kiss doesn't mean he's yours. He ran, didn't he?
Ratch stared at the messages, jaw clenching. Someone had been watching them, had captured their most intimate moment and then taken the time to photograph his pain afterward. But why? What were they getting out of sending him this? What was the point of capturing such a personal, painful moment and shoving it back in his face like this?
"You look like someone who just won and lost a fight at the same time," Bom observed, glancing up from the laptop where he was updating their club's social media.
"Something like that," Ratch muttered, deleting the messages and dropping into the chair behind their booth. He grabbed a stack of flyers and began arranging them with more force than necessary.
Natee glanced between Ratch and the direction Win had disappeared. "The freshman giving you trouble?"
Ratch's hands stilled. "It's nothing I can't handle."
"For the last two days you haven't been handling nothing very well if you ask me," Bom said with a knowing expression.
Ratch snapped, "Well, it's a good thing I'm not asking you."
"Look, I'm just saying," Bom continued, unfazed, "maybe it's not worth the trouble you're putting yourself through. You don't usually let anything get to you like this."
Ratch looked over and gave Bom a smile. "Oh, he's worth it."
Ratch found himself thinking about those words as the afternoon wore on. Win was complicated, walls firmly in place to keep him out, still carrying the hurt from their summer, making it clear that Ratch had been the one to run in the end. But the way Win had kissed him back, the way he'd clung to Ratch's shirt like he was drowning—that wasn't pretense. That was real. And if it was real, then Ratch wasn't giving up. Anonymous messages or not, he would find a way to break through Win's walls.
Win made it through his afternoon orientation sessions on autopilot, his mind replaying the kiss over and over. Every time he tried to focus on campus tours or club presentations, he found himself touching his lips, remembering the heat of Ratch's mouth against his. By the time he got back to his apartment, he was exhausted from fighting his own thoughts. Parin was sitting at the dining room table, orientation materials spread in front of him, but he looked up when Win entered.
"You look like you're emotionally damaged," Parin observed, half-jokingly, setting down his highlighter.
Win collapsed onto the sofa, staring at the ceiling. "Something like that."
Parin was quiet for a moment, then pushed his paperwork aside and turned to face Win fully. "You know, I was thinking... we haven't really had a chance to talk. Just us. Maybe we could order some takeout later tonight? Have some brother bonding time since we're both here."
Win turned his head to look at his twin, surprised. It had been so long since Parin had made any effort to spend time with him one-on-one. "You want to order takeout with me?"
"Yeah," Parin said, his voice softer than usual. "I feel like we've been living parallel lives instead of actually being brothers. Maybe it's time to change that."
Something warm unfurled in Win's chest. "I'd like that."
Parin smiled, the expression transforming his usually composed features. "Good. And Win? Whatever's going on with you lately—you don't have to carry it alone. I'm here if you need me."
Win felt his throat tighten with unexpected emotion. "Thanks, Parin. Really."
They lapsed into comfortable silence, the atmosphere in the room feeling different. Lighter. For the first time in so long, Win felt like maybe he was getting his brother back.
Win's exhaustion from the emotional day and sleepless nights finally caught up with him. His eyelids grew heavy as he lay on the sofa, and before he knew it, he had drifted off into a much-needed nap.
He woke to the rich aroma of Thai food filling the apartment. Win blinked, disoriented for a moment, then sat up to find Parin setting containers of takeout on the dining table.
"Good, you're awake," Parin said with a smile. "I ordered from that place by the river we used to love. Figured you'd be hungry when you woke up."
Win stretched, feeling more rested than he had in days. "That smells amazing. What did you get?"
"A little bit of everything," Parin replied, opening containers to reveal pad thai, green curry, spring rolls, and mango sticky rice. "I wasn't sure what you were in the mood for."
They settled at the table together, the first time they'd shared a meal alone in months. The conversation flowed easier than Win had expected - Parin asking about orientation and if there were any classes he wanted to drop from his first semester, Win sharing his thoughts about the campus tours, both of them carefully rebuilding the bridge between them.
"Remember how Mom could never get us to eat without the other one around?" Parin said, twirling noodles around his fork. "We refused to have dinner if one of us wasn't there."
Win nodded, a smile tugging at his lips. "You always tried to steal my spring rolls."
"Still do," Parin grinned, reaching across to snag one from Win's plate.
Win laughed, playfully slapping his hand away, the sound genuine and light. For the first time in so long, he felt like he was just... himself. Not the overlooked son, not the confused boy running from his past, just Win, sharing dinner with his brother.
As they finished eating, Parin leaned back in his chair. "This was nice. We should do it more often."
"I'd like that," Win said softly.
After they cleaned up together, Win retreated to his room, feeling emotionally settled but creatively restless. The day's events - the kiss with Ratch, Pat's understanding, Parin's unexpected support - had stirred something in him. He wanted to capture this feeling, this sense of hope mixed with uncertainty.
That evening, Win's phone buzzed with notifications from the fiction site. "Summer's End" had gained another thousand readers overnight, and the comments section was exploding with theories about what would happen next. Win scrolled through them, amazed by how invested people had become in Alex and Kai's story.
This is the most realistic portrayal of first love I've ever read, one comment said. The way you write their connection—it feels so genuine.
Please tell me they get their happy ending, another reader pleaded. I can't handle it if this ends in tragedy.
Win found himself smiling despite the chaos in his own life. Here, as InvisibleHeart, he was beloved. Here, his words mattered to hundreds of people who hung on every update. It was intoxicating and terrifying in equal measure.
He opened a new document and began typing, channeling his confusion about Ratch into Alex's internal struggle:
Summer's End - Chapter 3by InvisibleHeart
I woke the next morning with my head laying on Kai's chest, our legs tangled together. Sunlight streamed through his bedroom windows. For a moment, I just lay there, listening to the steady beat of his heart, feeling the rise and fall of his chest beneath my cheek. I'd never spent the night with anyone before, and I was amazed by how right it felt—how safe and wanted I felt in his embrace.
Kai stirred, pressing a sleepy kiss to the top of my head. "Morning, beautiful," he murmured, his voice rough with sleep.
"Morning," I whispered back, suddenly shy in the daylight.
He seemed to sense my nervousness because he tightened his arms around me, holding me closer. "Hey," he said softly. "You okay? No regrets?"
I looked up at him, seeing nothing but warmth and concern in his dark eyes. "No regrets," I said, meaning it completely.
His smile was radiant. "Good. Because I was hoping you'd let me make you breakfast."
"You cook?" I asked, surprised.
"I make amazing pancakes," he said with mock pride. "It's basically my only talent."
I laughed, feeling the last of my nervousness fade away. "I'd love some pancakes."
He led me to his shower first, and under the warm spray, he was different than he'd been the night before—more demanding, hungrier. He grabbed me by the hair, pulling my head back as he put his hand around my neck, pressing my back hard against the cold tile wall. The contrast between the hot water and the cool surface made me gasp, and he swallowed the sound with a claiming kiss that left me breathless.
"Mine," he growled against my lips, his grip tightening just enough to make my pulse race. "Say it."
"Yours," I whispered, the word torn from my throat as he marked my neck with his teeth. My body arched into him, responding to his dominance like it was made for this, made for him.
He took what he wanted with a fierce intensity that left me shaking, water streaming down our bodies as he claimed every inch of me. When he finally pulled back, his eyes were dark with satisfaction.
"You're so beautiful," he murmured, pressing kisses to my wet shoulders. "I can't believe you're here with me."
I felt like I couldn't speak, could only respond with my body. So I kissed him again, saying everything I was feeling and putting it all in that kiss—how much I wanted him, how much he already meant to me, how completely he owned me in this moment.
Afterward, he wrapped me in one of his oversized t-shirts and made breakfast while I sat at his kitchen counter, stealing bites of cut up fruits and making him laugh. The pancakes were indeed amazing, but what I loved most was watching him move around his kitchen, completely at ease, humming softly to himself.
"So," he said, settling beside me with his own plate, "what do you want to do today? I was thinking we could go to that arcade downtown. I want to win you one of those giant stuffed animals."
"You don't have to—" I started, but he cut me off with a kiss.
"I want to," he said simply. "I want to take you on dates, Alex. I want everyone to see how lucky I am."
My heart did a little flip at his words. "Okay," I whispered. "I'd like that too."
As I sat there in his kitchen, wearing his shirt and watching him smile at me like I was something precious, my body aching in the best of ways, if I only knew at that moment, at the peak of my happiness, that I should have been locking those times in my memories as the best part of my summer.
Win posted the chapter and immediately watched the notifications flood in. Within minutes, readers were commenting, analyzing every word, begging for more. The response was intoxicating, but it also felt like standing naked in front of a crowd—exposed and vulnerable in ways he'd never experienced.
His phone buzzed with another anonymous message: Were you able to tell your best friend the truth? I'm curious how you explained that kiss.
Win's blood ran cold and he realized he needed to be more careful of his surroundings. Even his private conversations were being overheard. This was the second time that day his conversations had come back to him. He deleted the message immediately, but the unease lingered.
Back at his apartment, Ratch was having his own sleepless night. He'd tried studying, tried watching LINE TV, tried everything he could think of to get Win's face out of his head. Nothing worked. Finally, he gave up and reached for his laptop, opening the BL fiction site that had become his guilty pleasure. "Summer's End" had a new chapter, and Ratch found himself reading with growing intensity.
The parallels were impossible to ignore. Alex's happiness with Kai, the way he described being claimed and wanted, the intimate moments in the shower—it was all too familiar. Too specific. Ratch stared at the screen, pieces clicking into place. InvisibleHeart. The timing of the posts. The emotional accuracy of every scene.
"Holy shit," he whispered to the empty room. "InvisibleHeart is Win. This is our life, our relationship. I knew it felt familiar."
"You can write about us with so much passion and fire," Ratch murmured to the empty room, "but you can't admit that you're still mine. Your writing says you are, and your actions today proved it. No matter how many walls you try to build, your feelings are still there—your love for me is still alive in your heart."
His phone buzzed with a new message: When you had him before you could not keep him. How could you think a kiss could change things?
Ratch deleted the message without responding, but the words stung more than he wanted to admit. Whoever was sending these knew about their history, knew exactly which buttons to push to make him doubt himself. But they were wrong about one thing—this wasn't just about a kiss.
If Win was InvisibleHeart, then everything in those stories was real. The fear, yes, but also the longing. The way Alex described wanting Kai, needing him, being claimed by him—that wasn't fiction. That was Win's heart on the page. And that confirmed everything.
The next morning, Win woke to a soft knock on his bedroom door. Parin opened it a crack. "Win? Want to go out for breakfast? There's this café by the river I've been wanting to try."
"Yeah," Win said, rubbing his eyes and stretching before pulling the covers off and sitting up in bed. "Let me grab a shower first. Give me fifteen minutes."
The café was quiet when they arrived, filled with the smell of fresh coffee and the soft murmur of early-morning conversations. They found a table by the window, and Parin ordered for both of them while Win tried to shake off the lingering effects of another restless night.
"Thanks for this," Win said, sliding into the seat across from his brother.
"Thanks for coming," Parin replied. "I wasn't sure you would."
They sat in comfortable silence for a moment, watching the river flow past the window. Finally, Parin spoke.
"I know things have been weird between us," he said quietly. "And I know a lot of that is my fault. I've been so focused on being what Dad wants that I forgot to be your brother."
Win looked up, surprised by the honesty. "Parin—"
"Let me finish," Parin said gently. "You've always been stronger than me, Win. You've always known who you are, even when the world tried to tell you otherwise. I've always admired that about you."
Win felt his throat tighten. "I don't feel strong most of the time."
"That's what makes you strong," Parin said. "You keep going anyway. You keep fighting for what matters to you." He paused, meeting Win's eyes. "And whatever's happening in your life right now—whoever's making you look like you're carrying the weight of the world—you don't have to fight it alone."
Win felt tears prick at his eyes. "I've missed this. Us."
"Me too," Parin said softly. "So what do you say we stop being strangers and start being brothers again?"
Win reached across the table, squeezing Parin's hand. "I'd like that. I'd really like that."
As they walked to campus together, Win felt lighter than he had in months. Whatever chaos was waiting for him—Ratch's pursuit, the anonymous messages, the growing attention on his writing—at least he wouldn't face it alone.
His phone buzzed with a message from Ratch: I know who you are, InvisibleHeart. We need to talk.
Win's steps faltered, his heart hammering against his ribs. Beside him, Parin noticed immediately.
"Win? What's wrong?"
Win stared at the message, his carefully constructed walls feeling suddenly fragile. "I think," he said quietly, "things are about to get a lot more complicated."
Parin watched his brother with growing confusion, but decided to let the conversation drop there since Win didn't take it any further.
The campus spread out before them, alive with morning energy and endless possibilities. But for Win, walking beside his brother with Ratch's words burning on his phone screen, the day felt like standing on the edge of a cliff—beautiful and terrifying and impossible to turn away from.