Epilogue
Bangkok shimmered under the weight of anticipation. Outside ICONSIAM, fans flooded the red carpet, waving glowing signs and banners that read #LingOrmIsBack, THE GL ROYALTY RETURNS, and We waited. It was worth it.
Camera flashes lit up the early evening sky as the cast of the most anticipated GL series of the year arrived one by one—Englot, FreenBecky, LM Sy, MilkLove. But the crowd’s roar didn’t truly erupt until a sleek black car pulled up to the edge of the carpet.
And then, they stepped out.
Lingling Kwong, resplendent in a crimson silk gown with a deep slit and subtle gold embroidery that whispered Hong Kong royalty. And beside her, Orm Kornnaphat, in a tailored black suit with a velvet lapel and just the faintest glint of red lining to match Ling’s dress. Their fingers were interlocked. No hiding. No pretending.
The scream that followed shook the barricades.
Orm gave a small wave to the cameras before leaning in to whisper something in Ling’s ear. Whatever it was, it made Ling smile—and not the carefully poised smile she gave during press junkets. This one was soft. Real. The kind she used to give only Orm. And now, she was giving it to her again, in front of the entire world.
The reporters nearly tripped over each other.
“Lingling! Is this your official reunion?”
“Six months ago you were filming—did the sparks reignite?”
“Are you two… back together off-screen too?”
Ling didn’t answer right away. Instead, she tilted her head ever so slightly toward Orm, eyes glinting with quiet mischief under the camera flashes. Orm’s lips quirked in response, as if they were sharing an inside joke the world would never be let in on.
“We’re here to celebrate the series,” Ling finally said, her voice calm, smooth as velvet. “It’s a beautiful project. We’re proud of it. That’s what tonight is about.”
Orm, standing just a breath behind her, added with a faint smile, “Let the work speak. Everything else... we’ll leave to your imagination.”
A beat of silence passed before the reporters erupted into more questions, but the two women were already walking past them, hand in hand, toward the photo backdrop.
They posed side by side—confident, radiant, completely in sync. Ling’s fingers lingered on Orm’s wrist a second longer than necessary as they adjusted positions. Orm’s gaze drifted toward her just once, soft and fleeting. The cameras captured every moment, the internet already exploding with edits, slow-motion videos, and wild speculation.
“They didn’t have to say it. LOOK at them.”
“Same color palette. Same energy. Same heartbeat.”
“They’re not confirming it, but the way Orm looks at Ling? That’s a wife.”
Inside the theater, the premiere began. Fans screamed at every lingering look onscreen, every unscripted touch. And when the credits rolled, Orm reached over and brushed a curl from Ling’s cheek as they stood for the final applause. Just once. Just enough.
Backstage, away from the crowd and chaos, they finally exhaled.
“I think they know,” Orm said, her voice low, teasing.
Ling looked at her sideways, smirking. “They’ve always known.”
Orm’s laugh was quiet. She stepped a little closer, just enough for her shoulder to press against Ling’s. “Still. You didn’t deny it.”
“Neither did you.”
Outside the dressing room, their names echoed down the hallway. Staff calling them back for more interviews, more cameras.
Ling took a breath, composed as ever. “Ready?”
Orm looked at her, her whole expression softening. “With you? Always.”
And as they walked out again—shoulders brushing, fingers nearly touching but not quite—it was clear: they didn’t need to confirm anything. The world had already decided.
Whatever it was between them, it was real.
And this time, they weren’t running from it.
The screening ended in thunderous applause.
Standing ovation.
Cheers echoed through the grand hall as the final scene faded to black—a shot of Ling and Orm’s characters, eyes locked, foreheads touching, no words exchanged. Just breath. Just heart.
And now, real life was echoing fiction.
The cast took to the stage for one last bow. Orm and Ling stood side by side, fingers brushing but never clasping, faces lit by the spotlight and something more intimate—something only the two of them could feel. Fans screamed their names, holding up phones and signs, some crying openly. The room pulsed with admiration and electricity.
Backstage, producers, celebrities, and executives flooded them with praise.
“You were brilliant—both of you.”
“The chemistry? Unreal.”
“People are going to rewatch this for years.”
Ling smiled graciously. Orm thanked them all with a hand on her heart. But behind their perfectly timed smiles, something else flickered. A glance. A nod.
A plan.
As the crowd buzzed louder, they slipped away—through a side corridor only staff used. Security opened the back door without a word. No cameras here. No questions. Just night air and the sound of their footsteps echoing in sync.
A black car waited with the engine running. The driver opened the door, and Orm climbed in first. Ling followed, her gown sweeping the concrete like smoke trailing fire.
From the distance, behind the venue, a few fans spotted movement. Then—
Screams.
Flash.
Someone had seen them. Phones rose like a field of stars. LingOrm. Together. Same car.
But the car was already gliding forward, tinted windows hiding the soft laughter inside.
Inside, Orm reached over and took Ling’s hand in the quiet.
“You okay?” she asked, voice a hush in the low hum of the ride.
Ling turned to her, eyes glowing even in the dark. “More than okay.”
Orm brought their joined hands to her lips, kissed her knuckles once.
Outside, the city screamed for confirmation.
Inside, they gave none.
They just drove away—together.
Finally together.
Inside the car, the world slipped away.
The windows muffled the screams of fans and the flashing lights faded into soft pulses behind tinted glass. The air inside was still, hushed, like a secret shared between lovers who didn’t need the noise anymore.
Ling slipped off her heels, sighing as she sank back into the seat. “My feet are on strike,” she murmured, stretching her legs across Orm’s lap without asking.
Orm chuckled, instantly placing her hands on Ling’s bare calves to gently rub them. “Poor little princess. Do we need to stop for fries and iced tea?”
Ling grinned. “That would be a dream.”
Then she turned to the driver, lifting her hand lazily.
“P’Trin,” she said, her voice low and sleepy-sweet. “Home, please.”
“Yes, Khun Ling,” the chauffeur replied smoothly. “To your apartment?”
“Our apartment,” Orm corrected, glancing out the window with a soft smile. “She finally let go of Hong Kong, remember?”
Ling smirked, looking sideways at her. “I didn’t ‘let go.’ I let you in.”
Orm leaned closer, forehead resting briefly against Ling’s temple. “Same thing.”
They fell into a quiet silence, the kind that only came when nothing had to be said.
Their hands found each other again—like they always did—and rested over Ling’s stomach, fingers tangled, thumbs brushing back and forth in a rhythm only they knew. Ling turned her head and studied Orm’s profile: the gentle slope of her nose, the soft curve of her lips, the way her lashes fluttered when she blinked slowly, as if trying to memorize the moment.
“I still can’t believe we made it back,” Ling whispered, her voice nearly lost in the hum of the city outside.
Orm looked at her, eyes suddenly glassy but bright. “I can. I never stopped believing we would.”
Ling melted, her whole body turning so she could curl into Orm’s side, head resting on her shoulder like home. “I love you,” she murmured, almost shyly.
Orm kissed her forehead, her voice breaking into a soft laugh. “Took you long enough to say it again.”
“You say it every day,” Ling replied, pretending to pout.
“Because I mean it every day.”
They kissed slowly, unhurried, like they had all the time in the world now.
And maybe they did.
Because this wasn’t the beginning or the end anymore.
It was what came after.
A shared home.
A shared life.
A quiet kind of forever.
Outside, the city continued to buzz with speculation, theories, hashtags, and headlines.
But inside the car, and within the four walls of the life they built together—Ling and Orm needed no audience. No confirmation. No performance.
Only each other.
_________
The scent of jasmine rice and roasted pork floated through the apartment.
Sunlight poured into the open-plan kitchen, warm and golden, kissing the hardwood floors where a fluffy golden retriever—named Mooncake, because Orm insisted it was “round and sweet and a little dumb, like me when I’m in love”—rolled over dramatically to demand belly rubs.
Orm stood by the stove, wearing Ling’s oversized “Keep Silent” merch tee and absolutely nothing else. Her hair was a sleepy mess, her eyes still puffy from last night’s afterparty laughter, but her smile? Easy. Whole. Alive.
Ling padded in barefoot, her own hair in a loose bun, wearing Orm’s Dior hoodie over boyshorts. She looked rumpled and soft, like every kind of morning Orm ever dreamed of.
“You’re making breakfast,” Ling mumbled, blinking as she leaned against the counter and stole a piece of crispy pork from the cutting board.
Orm mock-gasped. “Thief.”
“You love it,” Ling said, already reaching for a second bite.
“True,” Orm replied, smirking. “But only because you’re cute when you pretend to be innocent.”
Mooncake barked happily and trotted over to Ling, tail wagging like a flag of domestic bliss. Ling bent down to kiss the dog’s head and scratch behind his ears.
“You hungry too, baby?” she cooed. “I’ll make your boiled chicken after I eat. Can’t have you going diva on me again.”
Orm watched them, her heart so full she thought it might split at the seams. “Remind me how we ended up like this again?”
Ling turned to her, eyes sleepy but bright. “We chose each other.”
Again.
And again.
They ate breakfast curled up on the couch, legs tangled, Orm feeding Ling spoonfuls of rice while Mooncake snoozed at their feet. No cameras. No interviews. Just shared glances, soft laughter, and coffee that tasted sweeter because it was made by the person who knew exactly how the other liked it.
Later, Orm would work on a script for an upcoming drama. Ling had a Zoom call with her new production team in Hong Kong. Mooncake would demand a walk, only to fake limp halfway through so he’d get carried.
But right now, it was quiet.
And in that quiet, Ling leaned over and kissed Orm’s cheek.
“I like this version of us.”
Orm looked at her and whispered, “Me too.”
And as Mooncake stretched out across both their feet, tail thumping lazily, they both knew—
This wasn’t just a chapter.
It was the life they fought for.
The sun dipped lazily across their little garden terrace, casting long golden streaks across the tiled floor where Orm chased Mooncake in slow circles, both of them laughing—well, Orm was laughing; Mooncake was barking like he’d discovered the meaning of life in a tennis ball.
Inside, Junji sipped iced coconut water on the living room couch, eyes tracking Orm through the sliding glass doors, then flicking back to Ling, who stood barefoot in the kitchen arranging slices of mango on a ceramic plate.
“You’re glowing,” Junji said, one eyebrow raised. “Like actually glowing. I thought it was just the sunlight at first. But no. You’re in love.”
Ling gave her a mock-scowl, though her cheeks were already turning pink. “I’ve always been in love. That’s not new.”
Junji leaned back and smirked. “No, babe. You were in love before. But now? You’re happy. That’s the difference. Before, it was all... passion and fire and chaos. But this? This is peace. You look like someone who knows where she belongs.”
Ling placed the mango plate on the coffee table and sat beside her, her eyes drifting to the window. Orm was now rolling on the grass with Mooncake, letting the golden retriever trample her like he owned her heart (he kind of did).
Junji nudged her with a grin. “So. Spill. What’s going on in that soft little heart of yours?”
Ling didn’t answer right away. She stared at Orm for a long moment. Then she exhaled, like she was letting go of years of weight. And when she turned back to Junji, her voice was steady. Certain.
“I’m going to marry her.”
Junji’s mouth dropped open. “Wait—what?!”
Ling laughed quietly, eyes shining. “I haven’t told her yet. But I know. I’ve known for a while now. Since she followed me to Hong Kong. Since we came back. Since she made tea for me that morning I cried over my script. Since she adopted Mooncake just because he looked like he’d keep me warm on bad days.”
Junji blinked back tears, clearly caught off guard. “Holy shit. I never thought I’d hear you say that.”
“I used to think Orm was the chapter I had to close to grow,” Ling continued softly. “But turns out, she’s the one I had to grow for. She’s… it. She always has been.”
Junji let out a shaky laugh, covering her mouth with her hand. “Damn it, Ling, don’t make me cry on your luxury sofa.”
Ling giggled and leaned in to hug her best friend tightly. “You’ve always been here for me. You’re gonna be my maid of honor, by the way. Start thinking of speeches.”
“Excuse me—maid of honor?!” Junji choked. “Do I at least get to approve the proposal outfit? You know she’s gonna go feral with sequins.”
“I want her to go feral,” Ling grinned. “That’s our brand.”
Just then, the door slid open, and Orm came in barefoot, hair tousled, cheeks flushed from playing with Mooncake. “What are you two whispering about?”
“Nothing,” Ling said sweetly, walking up and pressing a kiss to Orm’s nose. “Just how lucky I am.”
Orm gave her a suspicious squint. “You’re being suspiciously cute.”
“Maybe I’m in a dangerously good mood,” Ling teased, pulling her close.
Junji stood, grabbing her bag dramatically. “I’m leaving before I third-wheel my way into emotional damage. But Ling? Text me later. We’ve got rings to talk about.”
Ling winked. “You know I will.”
As Junji slipped out, Orm looked between her and Ling with amused confusion. “What was that about?”
“Secrets,” Ling said, tugging Orm toward the couch. “And mangoes. And maybe a future.”
Orm tilted her head. “A future?”
Ling kissed her. “You’ll see.”
And as Mooncake leapt up to squeeze himself between them like the clingy child he was, Ling smiled to herself, heart full. The love of her life was right here. And soon, she’d ask her to stay forever.
The city outside their windows had quieted to a slow, humming hush.
Inside, their apartment was dimly lit—just the golden hue of a bedside lamp, the distant flicker of traffic lights outside. Mooncake was long asleep in his oversized donut bed, snoring faintly in the living room.
Orm stood at the dresser, towel-wrapped after her shower, hair still damp. She was flipping through the drawer for pajamas, humming low under her breath when she felt it.
Ling’s presence.
The shift in air behind her.
Heat like a storm rolling in.
She turned—and Ling was there. Already shirtless, her body lean, defined, and breathtaking in the low light, pajama pants hanging dangerously low on her hips. But it wasn’t the view that made Orm’s heart stutter.
It was her eyes. How she looked at her.
Ling’s pupils blown wide. Jaw clenched. Her tongue pressed to the inside of her cheek like she was holding something back. Barely.
“Baby?” Orm asked, voice soft, teasing. “You’re staring.”
Ling moved forward slowly, like a hunter who’d already cornered her prey. “I’ve been staring all day at this amazing ass and body of yours.”
Orm leaned one hip against the dresser, towel still clutched to her chest. “Yeah? What took you so long to do something about it?”
That broke whatever restraint Ling had left. In a flash, her hands were on Orm’s waist, pushing her back until she hit the wall with a soft thud. The towel dropped uselessly to the floor. Orm gasped as Ling’s mouth crashed into hers—hungry, desperate, no pretense left.
Orm gripped her arms tightly, fingers digging into Ling’s biceps. “You’re on fire,” she breathed between kisses.
“I’ve been trying to behave all day,” Ling growled against her lips. “But the way you looked tonight… in that gown… smiling like you belonged to me—”
“I do love,” Orm whispered, voice trembling as Ling’s hands slid down her thighs and lifted her up in one swift motion. “You don’t have to hold back.”
Ling pressed her against the wall, hips grinding forward until Orm whimpered. “Good,” she said, kissing her jaw, her neck, her collarbone with a heat that made Orm arch against her. “Because I don’t think I could if I tried.”
They didn’t make it to the bed right away.
Orm’s legs wrapped around Ling’s waist, her back against the cool wall as Ling kissed her like she’d starved for months and finally got her first taste again. It was messy. Deep. Filthy with love.
Eventually, they stumbled to the bed, half-laughing, half-moan tangled in the air.
Ling lay her down gently—but the gentleness didn’t last.
Once Orm was beneath her, naked and panting, Ling finally freed herself from her pants, and Orm’s eyes widened with that familiar glint of anticipation.
“Touch me,” Orm whispered.
“Only if you’re ready,” Ling murmured, even as her voice shook with restraint.
“I’ve been ready,” Orm said, pulling her closer, breath ghosting against her lips. “I want all of you tonight. I want you deep in me and you to fill me up”
That was all Ling needed.
She slid her hand between Orm’s thighs, finding her soaked and open, and the sound that left Orm’s mouth nearly undid her, Ling putds her boxer, freeing her length, Orm’s favourite view. Ling kissed her slowly as she entered her, deep and deliberate, her free hand gripping Orm’s thigh as her body rocked in time with every gasp, every cry.
Orm clung to her like she was drowning—like this was the only air she needed. “God, Ling—don’t stop—”
“Never,” Ling whispered, voice breaking. “I’m never letting you go again.”
They moved together, a rhythm only they knew, learned over years of love and longing and loss. And when Orm came, her back arched and her nails left red trails down Ling’s back, crying out her name like a prayer.
Ling followed seconds later, hips stuttering, forehead pressed to Orm’s, teeth grazing her lower lip as her whole body trembled in release.
And then—quiet.
Heavy breathing. Tangled limbs. Ling’s face buried in Orm’s neck as she whispered, “I love you. So much I can’t breathe.”
Orm’s fingers curled into her hair. “I love you more my heart.”
They stayed like that—skin to skin, hearts calm but full—until sleep finally claimed them both.
Tomorrow, Ling would start planning the proposal.
But tonight, she was exactly where she belonged.
Inside the only person who ever truly held her heart.
_______
The sunlight poured in slow and warm through the linen curtains, casting golden stripes across their bed.
Orm was still asleep, curled on her side facing Ling, her mouth slightly parted, one hand tucked under the pillow, the other resting lightly on Ling’s waist like it never wanted to let go. Her lashes fluttered faintly with each dream, and her lips were a little swollen from all the kisses Ling gave her last night—and maybe a few this morning.
Ling didn’t move. Didn’t dare.
She just lay there watching her, bare shoulders peeking from under the covers, skin still carrying the marks of love. Her chest ached—not in pain, but in fullness.
That was her girl.
Her everything.
Carefully, she slipped out of bed and pulled on one of Orm’s hoodies—again—and padded barefoot into the living room where Mooncake immediately perked up from his bed, tail wagging like it was on overdrive.
“Shhhh,” Ling whispered, crouching down and petting him between the ears. “Mama’s sleeping.”
Mooncake gave a happy little snort and leaned into her touch.
Ling sat cross-legged on the rug beside him, rubbing his belly. “You wanna know a secret, little dumpling?”
He blinked at her with wide, adoring eyes.
“I’m gonna ask her to marry me.”
Mooncake sneezed. Ling laughed.
“I know, right? Took me long enough.”
She leaned back on her hands, gazing toward the bedroom with a soft smile. “I used to think love like this burned too hot to last. That we’d ruin each other if we tried again. But now... it’s different. We’re different.”
Mooncake flopped into her lap dramatically.
Ling scratched behind his ears. “You think she’d say yes?”
He barked once, tail thumping the floor.
Ling grinned. “Okay, I’ll take that as a yes. Now we just need to find a ring. And a date. And figure out how to keep her from figuring it out.”
A sleepy voice floated in from down the hall. “Keep who from figuring what out?”
Ling turned to see Orm leaning against the doorframe in one of her shirts, hair a sleepy halo, brow raised.
Ling froze like she’d been caught with her hand in the cookie jar.
Mooncake barked again, completely selling her out.
Orm narrowed her eyes playfully. “What did I just interrupt?”
Ling stood slowly, crossing the room to her. “Nothing important,” she said, kissing her softly. “Just talking to Mooncake about breakfast plans.”
Orm hummed. “Uh huh.”
They kissed again, and Ling swore her heart nearly floated out of her chest.
She’d wait. She’d make it perfect.
But inside her mind, the countdown had already begun.
Because she wasn’t just planning a proposal. She was planning forever.
____
“Okay,” Junji said, slamming her iced coffee onto the café table. “I’m gonna need full disclosure. Are we thinking diamonds, sapphires, or something disgustingly custom like a meteorite shard engraved with your love language?”
Ling blinked at her. “...Is that a thing?”
“Only if you’re rich enough,” Fluker muttered, scrolling through his Pinterest board titled ‘Queer Rings That Scream I’m Taken but Still Hot’.
They were tucked into a quiet corner of a boutique café-slash-jewelry concept store in Ari, the kind that served oat milk flat whites and had engagement rings displayed like pastries behind glass.
Ling, dressed down in sunglasses, a hoodie, and a cap, looked like she was about to rob the place, not propose in it.
“I want something simple,” she said, voice soft. “But it has to feel like her.”
“Then absolutely not simple,” Junji said, already dragging her to one of the cases. “Orm? Baby? She is the moment. You need something that says I fought for you and I’m never letting go.”
Fluker nodded sagely. “With just a touch of ‘I’ll kill anyone who hurts you again.’”
They’d gone through five cases, four impulsive coffee orders, and one flirtation with the very confused sales clerk when it happened.
Orm walked in.
Ling didn’t see her at first—she was holding a pale gold band in one hand, her heart low-key doing parkour as she imagined slipping it onto Orm’s finger while kneeling in their garden, Mooncake in a bow tie, maybe Junji sobbing in the background.
But Junji did see her.
And her eyes went WIDE.
“Abort,” she hissed. “Abort. SHE’S HERE.”
“What?” Ling looked up, heart seizing.
Through the glass doors, Orm was stepping into the shop, sunglasses perched in her hair, a tote slung over her shoulder. “Ling?” she called out, brows pinching. “What are you doing here?”
Ling’s soul left her body.
Junji did what Junji does best—lie on instinct.
“She’s helping me pick out earrings,” she blurted, grabbing a random tray of pearl studs. “For my cousin’s wedding. In… Bali.”
“Didn’t know you had a cousin in Bali,” Orm said, suspicious but tired.
Fluker jumped in. “She’s adopted. It’s a complicated story. Don’t ask.”
Orm narrowed her eyes but didn’t push. She looked at Ling, eyes still soft from sleep. “I was looking for you. Mooncake threw up on the rug again.”
Ling cleared her throat, voice barely stable. “He… he probably ate the orchid again.”
“Yeah. Definitely your dog.”
Orm took a step closer and smiled, brushing a kiss to Ling’s cheek. “You smell like coffee. Come home soon?”
Ling nodded mutely, kissing her back. “In a bit.”
Orm left. Just like that. No suspicion. No clue.
As soon as the door shut, Ling collapsed into a nearby chair.
Junji clutched her chest. “That was the closest I’ve felt to death since we got lost in Chinatown at midnight.”
Fluker wiped his forehead. “We need a better plan. And a decoy.”
Ling stared at the ring in her hand.
“I’m gonna ask her next weekend,” she said quietly. “In our garden. Just us. Maybe Mooncake in a tux.”
Junji sniffled. “You’re gonna ruin me.”
Fluker grinned. “We’ll be there. Hiding in the bushes. With tissues. And cake.”
And as Ling turned the ring over in her fingers, her heart was calm.
The chaos was worth it.
Because the next time Orm caught her off guard, it would be with a yes.
_________
The garden was glowing.
It was late afternoon, the sky soft with pale orange clouds. Paper lanterns floated gently overhead, swaying with the breeze. The little terrace had been decorated subtly—nothing over the top. Just fairy lights, rose petals, and a small table set for two.
And in the middle of it all: Mooncake in a tuxedo.
He sat proudly beside the table, tongue lolling out, with a tiny silk pillow strapped to his back.
The ring box was tucked inside.
Ling adjusted the collar of her suit jacket for the tenth time, then bent down to look Mooncake in the eye.
“Alright, my dude,” she whispered. “This is it. You don’t mess this up, and I’ll give you an entire chicken breast for dinner.”
Mooncake barked once, then licked her nose.
Footsteps echoed on the patio tiles.
Ling straightened.
Orm stepped out from the kitchen doors, barefoot, wearing a soft white sundress that fluttered slightly at her knees. Her hair was down, curling gently at the ends. She looked radiant. Effortless. Like a dream Ling had never stopped having.
She paused when she saw the garden. The setup. Mooncake.
Then she looked at Ling.
“Ling…” she said softly, already blinking too fast. “What’s all this?”
Ling walked toward her slowly, stopping just in front of her. She reached out and took her hands.
“It’s us,” she whispered. “It’s every second I almost lost you. Every moment I got you back. And everything I never want to risk again.”
Orm’s lips parted. Her hands trembled slightly in Ling’s.
“I had a thousand ways I wanted to say this,” Ling said, dropping to one knee. “But the truth is… I’ve loved you since the day you made me laugh on set with tea in your hand and glitter on your nose.”
She opened the box.
Inside was the pale gold band, simple and elegant, with a tiny diamond nested in the center like a whisper.
“I want forever with you,” Ling said, voice steady despite the lump in her throat. “Will you marry me, Orm Kornnaphat?”
Orm didn’t answer right away.
She just stood there—hands covering her mouth, tears falling freely now, body shaking as she let out a laugh-sob and dropped to her knees, wrapping her arms around Ling.
“Yes,” she breathed, over and over. “Yes. God, yes.”
Ling pulled back, just enough to slip the ring onto her finger.
It fit perfectly.
Mooncake barked once and trotted over, tail wagging so hard it knocked over a flower pot.
They both burst out laughing, faces still damp with tears, and Ling pulled Orm into the softest, sweetest kiss under the glow of fairy lights.
Later, Junji and Fluker would burst out from the bushes (literally), champagne in hand, screaming and crying and filming everything for their private story only.
But in that moment, it was just them.
Two hearts that had found each other again.
And this time, they were never letting go.