DARE
The Fine Line Between Mimesis and Reality
The silence in the student council office was heavy, thick with the scent of old paper and the lingering aroma of the coffee Ohm had spilled earlier that afternoon. The sun was dipping below the horizon, casting long, amber shadows across the desks where the rest of the group—Keng, Namping, Latte, and Kim—had recently vacated, leaving only the President and Vice President to lock up.
JJ felt like his skin was two sizes too small. Every time he glanced at Net, he saw the ghost of that moment from two days ago. It had been a joke. A stupid, impulsive dare. *“If you’re really that much of a disaster, Net, just admit you’re an idiot and I’ll be your boyfriend,”* JJ had taunted, fully expecting Net to scoff and throw a witty insult back.
Instead, Net had looked him dead in the eye and said, "I’m a complete idiot. A total disaster. I’m yours."
He had said it so fast, with such terrifying sincerity, that the air had been sucked out of the room. Since then, the teasing had stopped. The sharp barbs that usually flew between them had been replaced by something far more dangerous: a quiet, watchful intensity from Net that made JJ’s heart hammer against his ribs like a trapped bird.
"We should go," JJ said, his voice cracking slightly. He fumbled with his keys, refusing to look up. "Keng and the others are probably already at the night market. If we don’t hurry, Namping will eat all the grilled pork."
"JJ."
Net’s voice was calm, but it had a weight to it that anchored JJ to the spot. Net was leaning against the edge of the large conference table, his arms crossed over his chest. The theatre major knew how to hold a room, how to use his presence to command attention, and right now, all that focus was directed solely at JJ.
"Look, about the other day," JJ started, forced laughter bubbling up in his throat. He finally looked up, putting on his best 'Presidential' mask—the one that was all smiles and easy deflections. "It was a good one, Net. Seriously. You really had me there for a second. Your acting skills are top-tier, I’ll give you that. You totally won the dare. We can stop now."
Net didn't move. He didn't smile. "Stop what?"
"The... the boyfriend thing," JJ said, waving a hand dismissively. "The joke. It’s been forty-eight hours, the bit is over. You proved you’re willing to self-deprecate for a win. Point to Siraphop. Now let’s go back to normal."
JJ turned to grab his bag, but a hand clamped firmly around his wrist. Before he could process the movement, Net had stepped into his space, forcing JJ back until his shoulder blades hit the cool surface of the wooden door. Net didn't let go. He leaned in, trapping JJ between the door and his own body, his eyes dark and unreadable.
"You think I was acting?" Net asked, his voice dropping to a low, resonant register that vibrated in JJ’s chest.
"Weren't you?" JJ challenged, though his breath was hitching. "You love winning. You love getting under my skin. This was just the ultimate way to do it, right? To make me feel awkward?"
Net let out a short, breathy laugh that lacked any humor. "JJ, you’re supposed to be the smart one. You manage the whole council, you see through everyone’s excuses, yet you’re blind to this? I’ve been trying to get under your skin for three years because it was the only way you’d actually look at me."
JJ’s mouth went dry. "Net, don't—"
"I didn't say it to win a bet," Net interrupted, his face inches from JJ’s. The smell of his cologne—something woody and expensive—was overwhelming. "I said it because it was the first time you gave me an opening to say what I actually wanted without you laughing it off. I’m not playing a game anymore, JJ. I’m tired of the joke."
JJ tried to find a witty comeback, a way to deflect the sudden, raw vulnerability in Net’s expression, but the words died in his throat. The irritation he had cultivated like armor for years was dissolving, leaving behind a terrifying, electric attraction he had spent far too long denying.
"I don't... I don't know what you want from me," JJ whispered.
"I want you to stop pretending you don't feel this," Net replied.
Then, he closed the distance.
It wasn't a tentative kiss. It was a collision. Net’s mouth crashed against JJ’s with a desperation that spoke of years of repressed longing. JJ let out a muffled gasp of surprise, his hands instinctively coming up to push at Net’s chest, but the moment their lips connected, the resistance vanished. It was like a fuse had been lit.
JJ’s fingers curled into the fabric of Net’s button-down shirt, pulling him closer as he began to kiss back with a fervor that matched Net’s. The kiss was messy, deep, and hungry. Net’s tongue swept against JJ’s, claiming him, tasting of mint and something uniquely *Net*.
Net groaned into the kiss, a low, primal sound that made JJ’s knees go weak. Net’s hands migrated from JJ’s wrists to his waist, his large palms sliding under JJ’s blazer to grip his hips through his shirt, pulling him flush against his body. JJ could feel the hard line of Net’s thighs, the heat radiating off him in waves.
JJ tilted his head back, opening his mouth wider, inviting Net in. He felt Net’s teeth graze his bottom lip, a sharp spark of sensation that sent a shiver racing down his spine. He reached up, his fingers tangling in the soft strands of Net’s hair, tugging slightly to bring their faces even closer. The world outside the office—the student council, their friends, their responsibilities—ceased to exist. There was only the sound of their labored breathing and the wet, rhythmic friction of their mouths meeting.
Net shifted his weight, pressing JJ harder against the door. One of his hands traveled upward, his thumb tracing the line of JJ’s jaw before burying itself in the crook of JJ’s neck. He pulled away from JJ’s lips just an inch, his breath hot against JJ’s skin.
"Is this still a joke to you?" Net rasped, his eyes searching JJ’s blown-out pupils.
JJ couldn't speak. He could only shake his head, his chest heaving. He reached out, grabbing the lapels of Net’s jacket and pulling him back down.
This time, the kiss was even more intense. Net’s hand slid down to the small of JJ’s back, arching him forward so their bodies were fused from chest to knee. JJ’s senses were reeling. He felt the scratch of Net’s stubble, the dampness of their shared breath, the way Net’s heart was drumming a frantic rhythm against his own. Net’s tongue was relentless, exploring every corner of JJ’s mouth, demanding a surrender that JJ was more than willing to give.
JJ let out a soft whine when Net moved his kisses to the sensitive skin just below his ear. "Net..."
"I’ve wanted to do this since freshman year," Net murmured against his skin, his voice thick with desire. He bit softly at the cord of JJ’s neck, making JJ gasp and arch his back. "Every time I teased you, every time I made you angry... I just wanted you to notice me."
JJ felt a surge of heat that had nothing to do with the stuffy office. He realized then how much energy he had spent hating Net just to avoid loving him. The annoyance had been a shield, a way to keep the Vice President at arm’s length because the alternative was too overwhelming to contemplate. But now, with Net’s hands all over him and his head spinning from the sheer physical force of their connection, the shield was shattered.
He pulled Net’s face back to his, his eyes fierce. "You’re an idiot, Net Siraphop."
"Your idiot," Net countered, a small, genuine smirk finally breaking through his serious facade.
"Yeah," JJ breathed, a smile finally tugging at the corners of his own mouth. "My idiot."
He wrapped his arms around Net’s neck, pulling him down for another kiss, one that was slower, deeper, and filled with a new kind of promise. The game was definitely over, and for the first time in his life, JJ didn't mind losing at all.