Another Chance
The Ghost in the Passenger Seat
The highway was a ribbon of black asphalt cutting through the neon-drenched outskirts of Bangkok. Inside the car, the air was heavy, thick with the salt of JJ’s tears and the hum of a high-end engine. Net kept his left hand firmly over JJ’s, their fingers interlaced so tightly it was almost painful. He didn't dare let go; he felt as though if he did, JJ might simply evaporate into the shadows of the cabin.
JJ hadn't spoken since they left the restaurant. He was slumped against the door, his eyes fixed on the blurring lights of the city. He looked hollowed out, a shell of the man who had spent the last two years throwing verbal daggers at Net’s heart.
"I didn't want to leave," Net said finally, his voice cutting through the silence like a dull blade.
JJ didn't move. He didn't even blink.
"My father... he found the photos, JJ. The ones we took at the beach during our second year of university. He didn't just threaten to cut me off. He threatened you. He knew your agency, he knew your manager, and he told me that if I didn't get on that plane to London, he would make sure you never worked in this industry again. He called it 'cleaning up a mess.'"
Net’s grip on JJ’s hand tightened. "I was twenty. I was terrified. I thought if I stayed to fight him, I’d take you down with me. So I left. I thought if I just vanished, he’d lose interest in you. I didn't get to say goodbye because he took my phone, he took my passport, and he drove me straight to the airport. I sat in that terminal for six hours, JJ, just staring at the gate, wishing I had the guts to run back to you. But I was a coward. I chose your career over our goodbye."
A small, choked sound escaped JJ’s throat, but he still didn't turn around.
"I spent three years in London trying to hate you so it would stop hurting," Net continued, his voice trembling. "I tried to build a life there, but everything I did felt like a rehearsal for a play that was never going to open. When I finally cut ties with my family—when I walked away from the inheritance and the name just to come back here and act—I did it for one reason. I wanted to find you. I wanted to tell you the truth."
Net pulled the car onto a deserted overlook, the engine idling with a soft purr. He turned in his seat, his eyes searching JJ’s profile.
"But when I saw you again, you looked at me with so much hatred that I froze. The 'beef'... it was the only way I could get close to you. If I acted like a jerk, you’d talk to me. If I teased you, you’d look at me. It was a pathetic, twisted way to stay in your orbit, but I was so desperate for any piece of you that I took the anger. I took the insults. I just wanted to be near you, JJ. I never let go. Not for one second."
JJ finally turned. His face was a map of devastation, his eyes red-rimmed and swimming with fresh tears. "You should have told me," he whispered, his voice cracking. "You should have let me choose. I would have given it all up, Net. I would have worked in a coffee shop, I would have quit acting—I would have done anything if it meant I didn't have to spend five years thinking I wasn't enough to make you stay."
"I know," Net said, his own voice breaking. "I know that now. I was wrong."
JJ let out a jagged, howling sob and lunged across the center console. He didn't hit Net; he grabbed him, burying his face in Net’s shoulder and wailing. It was a sound of pure, unadulterated grief—a release of every suppressed emotion, every lonely night, and every bitter lyric JJ had ever written.
Net pulled him into his lap, ignoring the cramped space of the car. He held JJ’s head against his chest, rocking him back and forth as JJ’s fingers clawed at his shirt.
"I hated you so much," JJ gasped between sobs. "I hated you because I loved you, and it was so loud, Net. It was so loud and I couldn't turn it off. Every time you smiled at the camera, I wanted to die. Every time you poked me, I wanted to scream."
"I'm here," Net murmured, his tears falling into JJ’s hair. "I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere. We can be real, JJ. No more beef. No more scripts. Just us."
They stayed like that for a long time, the only sound in the car the fading hiccups of JJ’s crying. Slowly, the tension began to bleed out of JJ’s body. He went soft in Net’s arms, his forehead resting against Net’s collarbone. The intimacy was quiet, fragile, and heavy with the weight of a second chance.
"We have to try," JJ whispered, pulling back just enough to look Net in the eye. "Not for the fans. Not for the show. For the kids we were before the world got in the way."
"Whatever you want," Net promised, leaning down to press a soft, lingering kiss to JJ’s forehead. "We'll figure it out."
The peace lasted exactly twenty minutes.
It was the persistent, aggressive buzzing of Net’s phone in the cup holder that broke the spell. Then JJ’s phone followed suit, a frantic staccato of notifications that lit up the darkened car like a distress signal.
JJ frowned, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand as he reached for his device. "What is—"
He stopped. His face went pale, the little color that had returned to his cheeks draining away instantly.
"Net," JJ breathed, his voice trembling. "Look."
Net picked up his phone. His lock screen was a waterfall of Twitter notifications and LINE messages. At the center of it all was a trending hashtag that made his heart drop: #NetJJTruth.
He tapped a link, and there it was. A grainy, candid photo from five years ago. It was taken at a small, dimly lit noodle shop near their old university. In the photo, a younger Net was leaning in, his nose pressed against a laughing JJ’s cheek, his arm draped possessively around JJ’s waist. They weren't actors then; they were just two boys in love, and the camera had caught the kind of raw, domestic tenderness that no "rivalry" could ever explain away.
"Who leaked this?" Net muttered, scrolling through the chaos.
The internet was in a state of absolute meltdown.
*@ship_it_maybe: ARE YOU KIDDING ME??? Look at the way Net is looking at him! This isn't 'rivalry' chemistry, this is 'we've been domestic for years' chemistry!*
*@user123: The beef was a cover?? They were always in love, not just fighting! My whole life is a lie.*
*@series_stan: Imagine lying to us for years. All those interviews where they looked like they wanted to kill each other... were they just trying not to kiss? I can't—this is them??? No way.*
*@daily_netjj: [Video Clip] Rewatching the EP 4 behind-the-scenes. Look at Net’s hand. He’s not teasing JJ, he’s checking if he’s okay. We were so blind.*
"It's everywhere," JJ whispered, his eyes wide as he scrolled. "The agency is going to lose their minds. The fans... they think we played them."
Before Net could respond, his phone vibrated with a flurry of messages from his private group chat with his closest friends in the industry.
**[THE BOYS]**
**Keng:** "Bro what is this leaked pic—THAT’S YOU??"
**Latte:** "Why are you two dating?? Or were you?? I’m so confused, my head is spinning."
**Keng:** "Net, answer the phone. The director is asking if we need to release a statement."
**Net:** "I told you not to be shocked. We have history."
**Keng:** "History?? You guys looked like you wanted to file restraining orders! So the beef… was never real beef?"
**Net:** "It was… complicated. But yes. It was real, but not the way you think. I’ll explain later. Just... tell the director to stay quiet for now."
On the other side of the console, JJ was staring at his own screen, his thumb hovering over a flurry of messages from Kim and the rest of their inner circle.
**[TRUTH TELLERZ]**
**Kim:** "JJ???? That photo??? Tell me that’s a deepfake or I’m going to scream."
**Ohm:** "You weren’t serious when you said you didn’t care about him, were you? You’ve been pining for five years while pretending to be an ice queen."
**JJ:** "Stop. Please stop."
**Namping:** "Bro you two look like you never broke. The way he’s holding you in that pic... that’s not 'teasing,' that’s 'mine.'"
**Kim:** "JJ, talk to us. Are you okay? Where are you? You disappeared from the restaurant with him."
JJ turned his phone off and dropped it into his lap, leaning his head back against the headrest. He looked exhausted, the emotional toll of the night finally catching up to him.
"They know," JJ said, his voice flat. "Everyone knows."
Net reached over, taking JJ’s hand again. He didn't look at his phone. He didn't look at the trending topics or the frantic messages from their managers. He only looked at JJ.
"Let them talk," Net said firmly.
JJ looked at him, surprised. "What?"
"We’ve spent years performing for them, JJ. We performed the love, then we performed the hate, then we performed the 'beef' for the brand. I’m tired of acting. If they want to speculate, let them. If they want to dig up old photos, let them. We don't owe them an explanation tonight."
"The agency will want a press conference," JJ pointed out, though a small, weary smile was beginning to tug at the corners of his mouth.
"They can wait until Monday," Net said, shifting the car into gear. "Tonight, I’m taking you home. My home. And we’re going to turn off our phones, order the greasiest food we can find, and figure out how to be Net and JJ again. Not the brand. Just us."
JJ looked at their joined hands, then back at Net. The fear was still there, flickering in the depths of his eyes, but it was being slowly crowded out by something else. Hope.
"Okay," JJ whispered. "Just us."
As the car pulled back onto the highway, the digital world continued to scream. Thousands of miles away, servers hummed with the weight of a secret revealed, and millions of strangers dissected a love story they had only ever seen the edges of.
But inside the car, there was only the sound of two people breathing in sync, finally moving forward into a future where the only audience that mattered was the person sitting in the next seat. The war was over, the truth was out, and for the first time in five years, Net and JJ were exactly where they were supposed to be.