“Khunpol,”

And so, there is something about the confidence the caller had that made Khunpol Pongpol pried his eyes away from his gelato aside from the fact it was said with a perfectly fine Thai accent. Como is technically a small city and even if it is only an hour away from Milan by train, the chances are slim for him to encounter a friend, yet Khunpol didn’t have the time to count how slim exactly it was. “Right?” The hesitation came afterward, most probably because Khunpol was unfazed. 

“I’m Alan— Alan Pasawee, we went to the same primary school together? We lived in the same area many years ago,” The person — Alan, continued as he put the bicycle he was riding in parking mode and straightened his shirt, “Hi— I guess, I don’t know whether you remember me or not, we haven’t met in a long time, to be very honest.” 

“I do.” Khunpol tilted his head in amusement as he offered a smile, it was indeed interesting — the sureness, the certainty that the latter carried in his words. “I was just wondering a little bit, you know, how did you recognize me and how are you so sure if we haven’t met in so long?” The question definitely sent Alan into a momentual shock that he tried to cover by brushing his hair back and a laugh that came out rather awkward. 

“I probably saw you on Thai’s Instagram recently— uh, Chayanon?” Alan looked way, way older than Khunpol remembers him. He grew tall — undoubtedly taller than Khunpol is, and the sunlight hitting his face perfectly as it seeped through the winter clouds. It complimented the way Alan wore a denim jacket and a plaid shirt underneath that he let loose — the entire thing made him look like an early summer instead. 

“You’re an Instagram friend with Thai?” Khunpol asked instead, still with a lingering amusement of meeting someone in the middle of Como during his free days. 

“Yeah, I came to his university graduation house party,” Alan elaborated, “We exchanged numbers and socials since.”

“I was also on his graduation day—.”

“I know, I saw you,” Alan cut in, before he realized he answered a tad too swiftly. “That is also probably, uh, why I recognize you, now, you know, uh, back then I didn’t, you already left when I wanted to say hi, I mean, I was late to the party anyway, and it was late, so, I don’t—.” Alan’s blabber got cut by Khunpol’s chuckle in the middle of it. 

“Okay,” Khunpol said afterward, “Okay? Okay, Alan Pasawee, it is nice meeting you again after years then.” Khunpol stretched out his hand — Alan took his hand gladly and did the handshake. 

“So, what are you doing around here?” Alan eyed Khunpol’s gelato for a second, “Beside hunting for ice cream?”

“Uh, work, actually,” Khunpol replied with another grin, “For Milan Fashion Week.”

“As a model?” Alan raised his eyebrow. Khunpol thought he was joking until Alan didn’t budge with his own conclusion, and genuinely looked so serious as he waited for Khunpol’s answer. 

“With a fashion house, I do marketing and brand strategy, and campaigns, press releases stuffs,” Khunpol explained and Alan made a small understanding noise, “Hey, what was that?”

“What was what?” Alan blinked rapidly in a slight confusion.

“Why do you think I was a model?” Khunpol chuckled, “That’s funny, I barely have the confidence to walk on a runway.” 

“Really?”

“Yeah,” Khunpol confirmed as he scooped his gelato and put a spoonful in his mouth, “So what’s going on with you, Pasawee? Besides riding on a bicycle until you found me on some random street in Como?” He added as he leaned to the gelato parlor’s side wall. 

“Work, actually, too.” Alan offered a sheepish grin, “I do some photography jobs, someone hired me to take pictures for their villa that they are trying to promote. I am on my way there actually,” Alan elaborated, “And a prewedding photoshoot for this weekend in Lake Como,” Alan continued as he blew the hair that fell into his face because of the winter winds. 

“Sounds like you have a very cool job,” Khunpol returned with a wide smile and didn’t miss the way Alan’s ears reddened. 

“Hey, you’re running a marketing campaign within MFW, that’s kind of, way cooler than what I do.” Alan emphasized the word way, and Khunpol had to bite his lips not to tease the latter because they were practically strangers at that point. 

“Thanks, Alan, you’re very nice.” Khunpol paused as he pointed his gelato spoon at Alan’s direction hastily, “You know what? I have always remembered how nice you were back then when we were kids,” Khunpol said, “You used to guide others to stay in line with pedestrians while waiting for the bus.” 

“I did?” Alan scrunched his nose, Khunpol nodded rapidly in return. “There were like a dozen of us, kids, back then, no?”

“Yeah, I guess around that number, supposedly.” Khunpol nodded again in agreement. “We were in different grades.” Alan looked a tad lost when Khunpol added, “Do you still keep in touch with them?”

“On top of my head, I still connect with Thai.” Alan chuckled, “Then, uh, probably Nattakit, and Peem?”

“Peemwasu?” Khunpol laughed at the mention, “He’s still a kid in this sense.”

“That’s true,” Alan agreed effortlessly, “Supposedly I did connect with the other kids too, I just can’t think of them right now.” 

“Except me,” Khunpol stated — Alan would’ve thought that the latter was offended if Khunpol wasn’t grinning ear to ear while saying it. 

“Except you, unfortunately,” Alan said with a lingering regret, before he quickly fished out his phone from his pocket and handed it to Khunpol, “Therefore, I’d like to change that, Khunpol.”

“Sure, Pasawee.” Khunpol let out another small chuckle and took Alan’s phone from his palm, and Khunpol didn’t— couldn’t miss the way Alan awkwardly turned his attention away from Khunpol when their hands brushed against each other. 

“Thanks, you know, it’s really nice seeing you,” Alan said after clearing his throat out of the blue, while Khunpol was inserting his number and Instagram on Alan’s phone, “Do you have any plans tonight?” 

“I’m going back to Milan, since my free days are done by tomorrow,” Khunpol said as he gave the phone back to its owner.

“I can go to Milan,” Alan replied almost immediately and retreating in another speed of light even before Khunpol can react, “I mean, uh, you know, after work, Milan sounds fun, yeah? About an hour away by train, right?” Alan brushed his hair back which made it way worse, because his red ears became even more visible. 

“Yeah, only an hour away,” Khunpol confirmed with an enthusiastic nod, “You know what, in that context of the situation, then I don’t have any plans in Milan tonight, but I might join my team for dinner, who knows?”

“Okay, okay, that’s cool, you know, I’m going to text you then.” Alan nodded back, like a promise, as he raised his phone.

“Sounds good to me.” Khunpol smiled before he said, “It’s good if we have the opportunity to catch up more.” There is something about the way Alan beamed at the statement, as the winter winds blew softly in between them, carrying warmth that speaks in the language of rebirth — oh well, spring is coming, anyway. 

—

In fact, Alan Pasawee remembers Khunpol Pongpol in fragments that he pieced together in his head from the recollections that he gained throughout the years. Khunpol was right, that there is no way Alan would just randomly recognize someone like that on a street, in Como on top of everything. Alan did not give the strangeness in the coincidence a single thought when he fell into the urge of calling Khunpol’s name. 

How did he even remember Khunpol’s name like it’s a language of its own? Probably because  Thai  Chayanon kept saying the name the last time they met. “You should meet Khunpol too, you guys haven’t talked in years, right?” Thai had said, and followed by, “Oh shit, he went home already.” Alan had known, Alan had caught him walking out of the party before he came inside — and his eyes had followed Khunpol until he disappeared completely, the inability to look away was highly questionable. 

That night, Alan had clicked on Khunpol’s profile that Thai had tagged on his Instagram post. Khunpol, in Alan’s genuine opinion and good interest, had looked out of this world — Alan didn’t know how to phrase it better — with a face straight out of a magazine or whatever The 1975 said in one of their songs. Alan’s finger had hovered on the follow button that he ended up ghosting, “Fuck, I should have come early.” Alan had groaned under his breath and tossed his phone aside.

In all honesty, that wasn’t the first time Alan had spotted Khunpol in real life after he went abroad for study. He recalled his own memories of seeing Khunpol a couple times at some community events since their families live in the same area — but never once he had said a greeting to the latter, or vice versa. It was a bit ridiculous, and weird, and Alan didn’t know why, he wasn’t sure. 

He probably recognized Khunpol instantly from his peripheral vision because Khunpol looked even insanely better in real life, with a touch of persisting winter wind and an oversized leather jacket that complimented his figure flawlessly. The slight tousled hair and fringe that styled to perfectly frame his perfect face. Alan had used like a ten perfect in the span of ten seconds, as he threw the last bit of sanity and let the intrusive thoughts win over when he called Khunpol’s name with his utmost confidence. 

He would have thrown himself and his rented bicycle to Lake Como if Khunpol had forgotten about him — maybe he did, maybe Khunpol was just too nice to embarrass Alan. There was a calming notion when Khunpol didn’t stop smiling throughout their entire conversation, and thinking about Khunpol smiling had made Alan smile as well when he received a text, “Hey, I don’t think I’m going to my team dinner,”

Alan was already standing in front of the station anyway, and Alan probably shouldn’t because he actually has had more work to finish after the shoot he did earlier. Yet he had decided that he no longer wanted to remember Khunpol in fractions, or Thai’s Instagram post. At the very least they should talk more, about how their lives have been going respectively, about the years they grew apart. Alan wanted to know, Alan wanted to fill the puzzle. 

“I’m on the train already. See you, Khunpol.” The universe has its funny way of putting two people at the same time and at the same place. Alan had to physically pried his eyes off his phone and banged his head to the train’s window to gain his sense back when Khunpol texted, “See you then, Pasawee.” 

Alan wanted to know what made Khunpol end up in Como alone, or what his favorite ice cream flavor is, or whether Khunpol is aware that when he smiled a little bit too wide then his eyes would start disappearing as well. Alan didn’t remember much from his childhood years, and he couldn’t say that he recalls much about Khunpol — it was too many years ago. 

Yet the familiarity sitting in the corner of the room, at the quiet edge of the house and painting the wall around it with the color of sky blue like a daydream. 

—

“I called my mom and told her about meeting you, Pasawee.” Khunpol folded his legs to get into a comfortable position as he seated themselves on the pavement. “She told me that it’s so weird that we didn’t meet before this, our families were in the same community gatherings a lot of times,” Khunpol exclaimed as he pulled out a bag of croissant and put it on Alan’s lap out of the blue, “For you.”

“I know, but I guess it’s understandable— oh hey, thanks!” Alan replied as he received the croissant with a slight confusion that he didn’t speak out loud, “I went abroad for middle school, and also for university, semi-boarding school for high school.” Alan shrugged as he handed Khunpol a bottle of water in return before he opened the croissant, “It smells really good.”

“There is a local bakery near my hotel so I just thought of buying one for you.” Khunpol shrugged it off with a chortle, “Just because.”

“Thanks, Khunpol.” Alan laughed it off before he added, “Anyway, I did go to Marc’s high school graduation party at his house though, I remember.”

“Wait, me too.” Khunpol tilted his head in amusement, “Why didn’t I see you?”

“I did,” Alan replied almost just a heartbeat later, “I saw you briefly,” Alan said it so softly that it almost got drowned in the noise of the crowd that were around the Piazza. “I just didn’t, we didn’t, yeah.”

“How many times exactly have you seen me before today? Like in real life?” Khunpol chuckled lightly, more in merriment and distraction, as if the Duomo that stands majestically in the middle of the square wasn’t distracting enough. 

“A couple,” Alan admitted at the end, “It’s so insane that I have never gotten a chance to say hi until today? It’s either I’m late or you’re leaving at that time,” Alan added. 

“I don’t believe that,” Khunpol replied instead, “Missed timing, you know?”

“Because we are supposed to work the timing if we really want to?” Alan raised his eyebrow.

“Yeah, mostly because time is a concept.” Khunpol stopped for a breath, “But I do believe in fate. That makes more sense for me. We didn’t miss the timing, Alan, we were only just fated to meet again today.” Khunpol offered a smile. 

Alan let out a soft chuckle, “Are you flirting with me?”

“You know what’s funny?” Khunpol chuckled along in return, “My mom also told me that I used to have a crush on you back then when we were kids. She said I used to run around and call your name,” Khunpol added, “Alan, Alan,” He then mimicked his younger voice. “She said I was pretty bummed when you went abroad.” 

“Really?” Khunpol responded with a light nod, “Yeah, it’s definitely weird that we didn’t meet or connect sooner, but I dig your fate theory,” Alan added, “You don’t miss the person you are supposed to meet, whenever it is.” Alan paused, “But this is no longer fate, I think, this one— is a decision.”

“What is?”

“People watching with you at Duomo di Milano.” Khunpol laughed a tad too loud at the reply, which made Alan smile — Alan thought the smile might find a permanence since earlier that day. 

“Were you expecting me to suggest a more fun and touristy activity?” Khunpol tilted his head, the leftover of his laughter still hanging on his lips. 

“This is fun! I’ve never done this before.” Alan nudged Khunpol’s arm softly, “You even ditched your team dinner to do this.”

“You came all the way from Como to do this,” Khunpol returned. There was a pause where one of them should’ve asked why — none of them did, Khunpol just laughed again like that was the silliest thing, Alan smiled because he most probably would take the train to Milan again and again. 

“Have you ever people-watch in Bangkok?” Alan asked afterward, “We should meet up back home too.”

“With the others? I think Chayanon would be thrilled.” Khunpol shrugged, “I mean it’s easy to gather all of us anyway, we all live in the same area.” 

“I’m saying just you and me actually, but I’m very much down to meet the others as well.” Alan cleared his throat, “Which means I get to see you twice already in the future.”

Khunpol stared back at him with a scrunched nose, “Just say it if you want to ask me out on a date.”

“I’m trying, Khunpol,” Alan replied with a little huff, it made Khunpol grin. 

“What if I’m already seeing someone, Alan?” 

“Are you seeing someone?” Khunpol didn’t answer immediately and was only looking at Alan in amusement, Alan had to bite back every single cell on his body not to call the latter beautiful — yet instead the whisper came out of Alan’s mouth like it’s a plea, “Please say no.” 

—

For one fact, Bangkok didn’t welcome spring the way Milan did, there isn’t even a spring to begin with — no lingering winter air, no cool breeze, no gloomy afternoons. “What’s your favorite color?” Khunpol almost laughed at how distressed Alan actually sounded when he delivered the question in the middle of the meal. 

“What was the original question, like, the one that was in your head first?” Alan actually laughed at the response when Khunpol was still trying to take the entire conversation seriously. “I was about to ask you regarding your view on the state of the current global financial system from a macroeconomics perspective but hey— that’s actually for the second date,” Alan played along nonetheless. 

“Second date, huh?” Khunpol raised his eyebrows in amusement.

“You can start outlining your answer from now, though.” Alan deadpanned. 

“Uh, the global financial system from a macroeconomics perspective, huh? Probably I’ll start with the topic of GDP—.”

“You’re actually a tiny bit insufferable, yeah?” Alan cut in as he brought his point fingers and thumb together to form a very small gap to prove his point.

“Is it showing already? I’m so sorry, Alan, I was actually saving it for the third date.” Khunpol huffed like he was actually regretful, all that with a slumped shoulder and little frown. 

“I’m kidding, I found you very cool back then in Como, you know.” Alan dismissed the mention of the third date, because Alan was definitely down for a fourth or fifth-hundredth. “You also mentioned earlier that this is your early years of working, which makes you twice cooler than I will ever be because you were already running around fashion week— that’s huge, Khunpol.”

“I get that a lot.” Khunpol offered a smirk, “But don’t piss me off, Alan, Thai said that you are flying every two weeks for multiple jobs,” Khunpol added and absolutely meant it for Alan to know that he did ask around about Alan, “And you’ve been working since you were in high school.”

“Were you asking Thai about me?”

“I need to make sure that you didn’t grow up to be a psychopath?” Khunpol reasoned nonsensically, which made Alan gasped in disbelief. 

“You could’ve texted me! Hey, Alan, I’m just making sure right there for a second before we go on a date— do you perhaps, currently suffer from any mental disturbance that could cause me harm?” Alan joked and Khunpol took the bait when he chuckled in astonishment. 

“Sorry,” Khunpol returned with an unapologetic shrug, “I’ll ask you now then— hey Alan, do you perhaps currently suffer from any mental derangement that could cause me harm?” Khunpol tilted his head and schooled his expression into a more serious one.

“No.” Alan huffed nonchalantly and Khunpol broke into a grin, “But I get it, that’s okay. We did meet in a rather— kidnapping style way,” Alan concluded nonetheless. “You shouldn’t be out and about just like that in any street, Khunpol.”

“Not everyone has a kidnapping style like you, Alan,” Khunpol replied instead, “You know, most people don’t stop on their tracks just to claim that they know me on the most random street in Italy.” Khunpol shrugged as he took a sip of his lemon tea. 

“Don’t piss me off now, you are totally underestimating how pretty you are, that’s why I keep spotting you time to time, you just don’t forget that kind of face,” Alan said in an effortless way until he realized that Khunpol was staring at him like he just stated the craziest thing ever. “You see, uh, I mean, it’s just a fact, I think, you, I think— Khunpol, I think you are very breathtaking.” Alan blabbed afterward and ended with blood rushing over his face. 

“You know, I would usually respond with something like— I totally know that.” Khunpol released the straw from the grip of his teeth, eyes were still on Alan and the urge to grab Alan’s reddened face was creeping through his fingers. “But, uh, that’s, that’s very kind of you.” 

“It’s not me being kind, it is me stating a general fact.” Alan pressed his lips together before it turned upward, mirroring the way Khunpol smiled at him. 

“Green,” Khunpol said after a little while with a little nod as he broke their eye contact and focused more on his plate. 

“How green?” Alan took a while to register the answer, and tilted his head when he did. “Like sage green?”

“Forest green, green.” Khunpol grinned, “Yours is red.”

“There is no way Thai would know that kind of information,” Alan replied in disbelief.

“He doesn’t, I just guessed.” Khunpol’s grin grew wider, “I don’t know how or what kind of red though.” Alan was about to respond when Khunpol added, “And I am more than willing to learn how and what kind of red.” 

—

Khunpol tried to put it into words even if he ended up making no sense — but being with Alan feels like sitting on a meadow where the grasses are blue instead of green, and there’s a soft winter wind on the back of his neck like the air on the day they met again after years. There is some sort of gentleness, not wave crashing or soul crushing type of feelings — instead it was something more placid, like an unruffled water on the lake in the middle of the mountains. 

Khunpol remembers Alan like a childhood dream — they used to walk to the bus stop together with like, ten other kids from various different grades because they all live in the same neighborhood and went to the same primary school. Alan used to be the tallest before they knew he was the eldest one, and that was why Alan used to guide them whenever they were waiting for the school bus to come. 

His mother then told him that he begged her to go with Alan when they were informed that Alan would be going abroad for middle school — it was a tad comedic when she told the story, because a child crushing on another child was an endearing little thing. “I didn’t know why you two didn’t reconnect sooner, seriously. His mom is wondering the same thing too,” His mother said, “You boys should all gather together sometimes, a dozen of you kids used to be the cutest thing in the area.” 

They probably were and were not at the same time, since Khunpol remembers how loud it was whenever they were together. Khunpol didn’t recall much afterward though, they sort of split up as life went on and lived their own paths after primary school — a silly little childhood group of friends living an imaginary adventure kind of story.

“So we both know Thai, and I connected with Marc, Nattakit— Nex, and Peem,” Alan tried to list them on their fifth date some time ago. There was the first, the second— the sixth, the seventh, and the next thing they knew, they were seeing each other almost every single time they were both available. 

“Ah, Peemwasu, he grew very tall, you know,” Khunpol replied, “I still talk to Jung, and I talked to Heart a couple weeks back. Oh, Ashirakorn too,” Khunpol continued as he counted with his fingers. “Ashirakorn is definitely in touch with Phutatchai.”

“That’s ten, I think Thai is in touch with Copper and Jinwook,” Alan added afterward.

“He definitely does, they were at his graduation party, Alan,” Khunpol stated while raising his eyebrows. 

“Hey, is now the correct time to say that I actually only remember seeing you from Thai’s graduation party?” Alan pressed his lips together in slight guilt.

“What? Like it’s the only thing you are able to remember or like I’m the only one you remember seeing?” Khunpol scrunched his nose in confusion. 

“Like—.” Alan paused, calculating possibilities and attempting to put them into words, “More like it’s the only thing that matters.”

Khunpol knew at that moment — how his cheek flushed and his eyes meeting Alan’s wandering ones, and his cheeks don’t turn red usually yet they apparently know how Alan likes red. It didn’t send him into overwhelming panic or over excitement — the thumping on his chest didn’t feel suffocating, it was closer to feeling a gentle breeze of longing and wanting. Like how the first flowers of spring have finally entered its blooming season.

“I’m a little bit in love with you.” Alan was walking Khunpol home to his parents house, which is only a walking distance from his own parents house. Alan no longer lives with his parents, but the neighborhood hasn't changed ever since Alan left it. They were helping Alan’s mother to move some of her stuff in Alan's old living room because she ordered a new couch and more decoration — they spent dinner together afterwards. “Big words, that’s why I added a little bit in front,” Khunpol added as he chuckled like he didn’t believe in himself. 

“I am already a little bit in love with you ever since we met back in Como,” Alan replied instead, gently nudging Khunpol’s arm with his own.

“This is not a competition.” Khunpol laughed it out — thus the desire feels so soft that one is not afraid of falling. Desire wasn’t even supposed to be in the same sentence with soft, yet Khunpol didn’t have better words to describe whatever he experienced with Alan. Khunpol could have just said that he really, really liked Alan, but even he wasn’t sure that it would suffice. 

“This is definitely a competition, Khun.” Alan grinned sheepishly before he started running, “Whoever reaches your house last is buying the winner a meal!” 

“Hey, that’s unfair,” Khunpol commented and ran after Alan nonetheless. 

“You’re unfair,” Alan replied when Khunpol managed to reach his side as he circled his arm around Khunpol’s shoulder and dragged the latter closer, his cheek touching Khunpol’s head, his lips was a breath away from Khunpol’s temple, “You can’t look like that— like you, and expect me not to fall in love a tiny bit on the get-go.” 

Khunpol let out a snarky giggle and returned, “How big is it now then?”

—

Alan found out about how he was willing to deviate when he was kissing Khunpol — that he didn’t hate the entirety of moving slowly. Alan had lived a fast-paced life that required him to move swiftly, to become a force, to jump from one city to another and one client to another. It was thrilling — the adrenaline rush that was addicting and consuming. Alan likes the adventurous notion and the sensation.

Yet with Khunpol though — it was something unhurried and gradual like drowning, because if Alan had tried to hide and swallow all the feelings he felt for Khunpol then he might have suffocated greatly and choked immediately. Something like drowning, would it be so bad if giving in is as serene as being surrounded by the water? The depth of the shade of blue has always been beautiful. 

Khunpol let out a chuckle against his lips that sounded like they could save Alan and it definitely did. “Let’s go,” Khunpol said and intertwined their fingers together.

“Okay, yeah, let’s go.” Alan would have said yes anytime and to anywhere. It was most probably never love at the first sight — goodness yes, Khunpol might be the most beautiful person that Alan has ever encountered and stole Alan’s attention ever since, but it was something calmer and stiller than an instant infatuation. It then turned into something strong and stable, so stable that it felt like a guard around his beating heart. 

“Alan, let’s go,” Khunpol said again, as he tried to pull their joint hands because Alan was immovable from his seating spot. 

“Kiss me one more time,” Alan demanded instead, pulling Khunpol back closer to him. 

“If I’m missing the sparkle because I’m kissing you, I swear—.” Khunpol paused, contemplating at his best before he leaned closer to press his lips against Alan once again, and again. Alan couldn’t let go, so he cupped Khunpol’s jaw just for them to stay kissing a little longer. It was only after a while that Alan then let Khunpol drag him as they climbed down the stairs where Khunpol even jumped a little bit here and there, and Alan wanted to keep him. The electrifying realization rushed through his veins, he knew he’s so done for.

Paris was generally more crowded during fashion week, yet Alan managed to find a spot for Khunpol to watch the glittering of the Eiffel Tower. Khunpol chuckled along the way when the tower lights up, and Alan could picture his face exactly without seeing Khunpol’s face while he was hugging the latter from the back. 

“I’m definitely very much in love with you, Khunpol,” Alan said first thing first, facing straight to Khunpol when he twirled Khunpol around after the sparkling tower show ended. 

“Saying that under the Eiffel Tower and in the middle of Paris? Wow, you’re serious.” Khunpol laughed again — Alan wanted to bite his nose and shut Khunpol up by kissing him. Khunpol beat him by a heartbeat as he cupped Alan’s face and kissed him first instead. How silly, maybe this is exactly how people fall in love in the movies. Maybe this is how two people are when it is not an almost, not an excess — just right. They are in love within all the corresponding and comparable amounts, and that is probably all it ever going to take. 

“I’m probably going to die again tomorrow,” Khunpol commented while munching on the sandwich, “They really don’t tell you in detail about dying while working for fashion week because how very complicated it is.”

It was almost midnight when they decided to eat instead at one of the cafes that was still open, though Café de Flore ended up being around three kilometers from the Eiffel tower, “Let’s not go around tomorrow night then, you should rest,” Alan assured with a small smile.

“But how am I going to spend time with you?” Khunpol raised his eyebrows and frowned. When Khunpol told Alan that he was definitely going to Paris for fashion week, Alan made an effort and somehow managed to score some jobs in Paris as well on the same week, with a less tight schedule than Khunpol — just enough to follow Khunpol around whenever Khunpol wanted him too.

“We can just come back when it’s not fashion week season.” Khunpol glared at Alan and softened up almost immediately from how Alan actually looked so genuine. “We have all the time in the world, Khunpol.” 

—

There is always something about watching Khunpol walk out of his office building, all dressed up in his fancy leather jacket and a cigarette in between his lips — the sight always undoes something in Alan, over and over again. “Hey, boyfriend.” Alan raised his hands naturally, and Khunpol high-fived him when he got close enough to do so. “Rough day?”

“Manageable, hey, I’m still alive.” Khunpol nodded and shrugged nonchalantly, “Just a little bit busier, sorry I made you pick me up.”

“Nonsense, take that sorry back!” Alan squished Khunpol’s cheeks lightly as Khunpol scrunched his nose and removed the cigarette. 

“Sorry I said sorry.” Khunpol huffed.

“You said sorry twice now,” Alan commented nonchalantly and circled his arm around Khunpol’s shoulder afterward. “Do you want to finish that?” Alan pointed at Khunpol’s unfinished stub and Khunpol simply shook his head and tilted his body to put a distance in between him and the cigarette. “Okay, let’s go to the car, yeah?” Alan learned about Khunpol’s smoking pattern as if it is a habit — it is not, Khunpol mostly only smokes when his works are being unusually too demanding and Khunpol needed to perform without having a mental breakdown, which means Alan was right. 

“For you.” Alan handed Khunpol a stem of blue hydrangea that he grabbed from the backseat as soon as they both seated themselves inside Alan’s car, in which Khunpol responded with a bewildered and questioning expression. 

“Huh?” Khunpol raised his eyebrows afterward, and tilted his head as he held the flower. 

“You sounded distraught and distressed in the chat room, I thought a flower would cheer you up.” Alan shrugged. 

“I did not, I typed like I always type to you,” Khunpol replied instead. 

“Well okay, true— I just have a perpetually accurate gut feeling regarding you.” Alan formed a smug smirk, while Khunpol was staring at him skeptically. 

“This was the property from your earlier set, huh?”

“Shut up, why would you say— that is absolutely correct, actually.” Khunpol let out a laugh when Alan admitted defeat so quickly, “Khun, this isn’t fair because you know me too well.” Alan huffed and frowned back at Khunpol.

“A for the effort.” Khunpol raised his thumbs up, “Now let’s get going, I’m actually starving. I could eat a person.” Alan’s smug smile returned instead as the response to Khunpol’s request, which made Khunpol tilt his head in confusion when Alan turned his figure again to the backseat. 

“I bought you— your beloved chicken wings,” Alan announced as he put a box of a familiar brand in Khunpol’s lap. It was still warm, almost like it was fresh. 

“You did not, Alan,” Khunpol gasped in excitement as he held the box, “What was the hydrangea for?”

“You sounded distressed and distraught.” Alan shrugged before he added, “You really did, at least I thought you did even if you think you didn’t. I think the hydrangea would be a fun, silly touch to the chicken wings.”

Khunpol was still looking at him in disbelief, “I did?” Alan nodded in return as an agreement, “I didn’t realize, I was just really swamped with work.” 

“Do you want to talk about it? We have chicken wings,” Alan said as he tapped the box, before removing the plastic bag and actually opening the box, “And a stem of hydrangea!” 

Khunpol chuckled at the mention of the flower before it faded into a sigh, “I am not sure, Alan, I guess I just have to be better at my job and at regulating my emotional management in professional settings.” Khunpol winced his eyes before he shrugged it off, “But I have chicken wings now, I am going to be fine.”

“Hey,” Alan said so quietly, it almost ended up as a whisper, “You are already so good— too good, Khun.” He ended up patting Khunpol’s head once. 

“I totally know that,” Khunpol responded with a chuckle before it turned into a relaxed sigh, “Ah, what am I going to do without you, Pasawee?”

“So many great things, you are too good, I just said that!” Alan exclaimed in excitement and softened himself up, “You are made out of dreams, Khun, you’re so dedicated, you make me want to be better at what I am doing.” 

“Okay, yeah, but who’s going to bring me chicken wings?” Khunpol asked rather seriously even if he was smiling throughout the question, “And pick me up with a car that has no coins because the owner is a hater.”

“That’s unnecessary.” Alan rolled his eyes at the comment while Khunpol was already laughing again. “Eat your chicken, Khun,” Alan said as he grabbed a piece of the chicken wings and stuffed it into Khunpol's mouth playfully to shut Khunpol up. 

They talked a little bit more about work as Khunpol made himself comfortable on the passenger seat and deboned the chicken wings for Alan, while Alan told him a story about his job that day, “Yeah, and then the fountain is working just fine afterward so the shooting went well.” Alan shrugged nonetheless as he added, “Hey, I have never told you this one funny story before.” 

“What?” Khunpol raised his eyebrow curiously as he stared at Alan while munching on his chicken. 

“But you are going to think that I’m flirting,” Alan claimed. 

“You’re always flirting with me anyway.” Khunpol deadpanned. 

“That’s true!” Alan laughed when Khunpol fed him a chicken wing in between. “You know, I visited Rome briefly before I went to Como back then when we met,” Alan continued, “To sightsee, do some touristy stuff, test my new camera, and I remember buying an ice cream and despising the way the shop gave me coins as a change. It was like almost five euros, I guess, three coins.” Alan chuckled at the way Khunpol rolled his eyes. 

“Long story short, I went to the Trevi Fountain.” Khunpol shot him a knowing look, like he had predicted where the story would go, “I then did the rituals and threw all three coins into the fountain instead so I got rid of the coins,” Alan finished his story rather proudly with a clap.

“You are a dedicated hater, I have to give you that,” Khunpol replied with a sheepish grin, after a little pause. 

“You know what is also given to me? You,” Alan stated, in which Khunpol only replied weeks later.

—

When it was December and they were watching an episode of Modern Family on Alan’s couch at his apartment, Khunpol opened with, “I have a confession to make,” as he turned his figure around and faced Alan. “You weren’t the only one who went to the Trevi Fountain.”

“You ate my last piece of ice cream in my fridge yesterday,” Alan stated in unison instead with a scandalous tone that made Khunpol make a mirroring scandalized expression before he burst into a giggle. 

“I definitely did.” Khunpol laughed when Alan attempted to grab his cheeks before he attacked Khunpol with tickles instead.

“I knew it!” Alan returned, “I was saying it was Nex but he was so clueless about it.” 

“Why would Nex do that?” Khunpol raised his eyebrows in confusion after they calmed down, “He doesn’t even like ice creams.”

“True.” Alan huffed as he nudged Khunpol’s arm, “What about Trevi Fountain?” 

“I, um, this is so funny but you said about how you went there before we met at Como a couple weeks ago?” Alan nodded in response as he settled his fingers on Khunpol’s fringe, playing with them gently, “I went there too before we met at Como.”

“No way.” Alan tilted his head in amusement.

“Yeah, before you though, I guess— I was there with my team back then, we needed to go to the Rome boutique so,” Khunpol elaborated, “We did some touristy things and decided it’s fun for shit and giggles to throw some coins at the Trevi Fountain, some Italian teammates also encouraged us, therefore we did.” Khunpol shrugged. 

“What a weird timing.” Alan blew a raspberry, “We could’ve met sooner.”

“You know I don’t believe in that.” Khunpol chuckled it off.

“I know, but you do believe in fate.”

“I do,” Khunpol agreed, “And I’m going to tell you this even if it’s going to sound like an awful lot of flirting.”

“I am ready to be flirted with, Khun.” Alan grinned nonetheless.

“I threw three coins too,” Khunpol continued, looking directly to Alan’s eyes and finding that Alan was already looking at him back, “And the reason why I remembered is that, uh, I thought the more coins you threw then your wish could be truer— and I was wishing for a good and happy life, you know, very general stuff.” Khunpol paused, “Until my Italian workmates said that I will definitely go back to Rome, I will find the love of my life, and I will definitely marry them.” Khunpol’s smile broke when Alan’s amusement grew so visible, “Because that’s what three coins are supposed to mean, Alan.” 

“This is not flirting anymore,” Alan replied in a low voice, so low it almost came out as a whisper. 

“It still is, a bit.” Khunpol bit his lips when he patted Alan’s cheek, “Sometimes it scares me to think about how much I seemingly stumble whenever I am not with you.” Khunpol pressed his palm closer to Alan’s face, as if he couldn’t get enough, “I never thought about asking the universe for you, Alan, yet what if the good and happy life it granted me is alongside you?” 

“Yes,” Alan replied so swiftly that it scared him too, and it’s even scarier that he knew Khunpol knew the feelings without him having to say it — it was always the way Alan and Khunpol don’t have to pretend that it wasn’t scary, because it was scary, the same way it was reviving. 

“Yes, what?” Khunpol let out a small chuckle and squeezed Alan’s cheek before letting it go.

“Anything you’d ask, actually.” 

“Do you imagine a future with me?” Khunpol asked afterward — it came out small, but Khunpol didn’t flatter. 

“You know what I do not imagine, Khun? A life without you,” Alan said with such determination that it sent Khunpol into forming a full smile and bliss. 

Sometimes, love is just this — Khunpol tilted his head hastily like he was asking Alan to head out, “Wanna get married and start preparing a wedding with me then?” 

Sometimes love does not taste like wars before it turns into poetry.

—

Alan was running on the street of London exactly because of two reasons — first was that the job took way longer than he expected and that his phone died in the process without him noticing, second was that he would be married by October with someone who was waiting for him at Hyde Park. 

South Kensington alone is a big street and he was on the wrong side of the whole area, Alan counted minutes on his head as he reached the street that would lead him to the Royal Albert Hall. He didn’t even run like that back in his university years when he was trying to catch the classes on time.

He was about to cross the road when he noticed a very familiar figure on the other side — he didn’t believe his eyes at first, yet there was just not a way he would miss Khunpol anywhere. “Khun!” Khunpol was already looking at him anyway before he called and smiled warmly at him, before he signaled Alan to stay at his spot. 

“I didn’t, hey— I’m sorry, my phone died and— ah, I’m so sorry,” Alan blabbered as he hugged the latter immediately and Khunpol let him before patting Alan’s back in return. “Are you going back to the hotel? I swear we can still catch the sunset, it’s not that late—.”

“I was about to look for you,” Khunpol said instead. “I got worried just waiting at the park.”

“But I— my phone died, Khun, how will you find me?” Alan let out a chuckle as he pulled away from Khunpol.

“I don’t know, with guts feelings I suppose.” Khunpol shrugged, “Hey, I found you, did I not?” Khunpol smirked proudly nonetheless.

Alan wanted to break so badly or cry in the middle of the street, maybe both, “We can still catch, uh, sunset,” He added as he pulled Khunpol to another hug — tighter and more bone-crushing, in which Khunpol returned with a light chuckle as he hugged Alan back without any question. “Khunpol,” Alan said on the top of Khunpol’s muttering on his chest, he was probably agreeing on Alan’s suggestion of still catching the sunset. 

Alan had watched countless sunsets in London during his university years, and sharing the dusk with Khunpol might have become a thing on his bucket list in recent years. Thus when Khunpol suggested that they have their pre-wedding photos in London — all because he excitedly wanted to learn more about Alan’s life back there, Alan knew he had to do it during sunset. 

Alan had definitely done a lot of things alone in his life and had enjoyed the solitude of it all yet there was not a single hesitation in his body when he agreed to getting married to Khunpol. He was very much sure it was a whole different genre of life, but it was way harder to picture life without Khunpol in it. There was this quiet bravery that he gained if it was with Khunpol, because he knew that Khunpol would always meet him in the middle. 

“We can still go to the park, let’s go,” Khunpol said when Alan pulled back for the second time, “I’m just glad you are fine and alive.” Khunpol smiled — the way that his eyes disappeared was just the final call. 

“Ah, fuck the park,” Alan groaned and got on his one knee instead in the middle of the pavement. It took Khunpol exactly five seconds to register the situation as Alan took a box out of his leather jacket, “So, I’ve got a question.” Khunpol laughed first thing first — giggled at the very bits of existence when Alan added with a very serious face, “Will you marry me, Pongpol Panyamit?” There is something about the way Khunpol didn’t stop laughing afterward — and dear goodness, how Alan is even in love with the sound of Khunpol’s laughter, yet the unanswered question got Alan all nervous for no reason at all that Alan had to whine, “Khun.”

“Like, imagine me saying no,” Khunpol managed to say in between giggles and he squatted down to join Alan on the pavement.

“Yeah right, you do know the down payment for our Four Seasons venue booking is non-refundable, right?” Alan reasoned nonchalantly. “But you know! For the novelty of it, and because you deserve the diamond,” Alan added, and because Khunpol deserves everything more. Alan would give even without Khunpol asking for them. 

“Why? I want to hear the speech though,” Khunpol said instead as he held Alan’s hands and attention. 

“You are the coolest person I have ever known,” Alan said almost immediately, “The words are just all too small to describe this massive feeling that I feel for you and at the same time, there is nothing ever in the world that can make me feel safer than you do,” Alan added before he exhaled, “You never told me to be brave when I’m scared, you just— you just never let me be scared alone. This ship, the ocean, the waves— aren’t scary at all because I have you.” 

“Oh, you do prepare a speech,” Khunpol cooed as he patted Alan’s head, “You’re so endearing.”

“You are! Look — I mean, what the hell are you even doing here? You are supposed to wait for me, but you just, you just find me in the middle of the road like—.” Alan stopped in disbelief, blended with amusement, “I am just so irrevocably in love with you,” Alan stated like it was the only thing left, “I love you, Khunpol, therefore you got me, always.”

“Yes,” Khunpol said instead in return, “I will marry you, Pasawee. Easiest yes ever, actually.” Khunpol smiled as he circled his arms around Alan’s neck and threw himself effortlessly because Alan would always catch him, “You are always so silly,” Khunpol said before he kissed Alan hastily and wholeheartedly. “A very good proposal event, I’d say.” Khunpol chuckled after the kiss, Alan had to squeeze the latter’s cheeks before smothering Khunpol with little kisses instead of commenting more.

Alan then took the ring out of the box and slipped it into Khunpol’s ring finger and kissed Khunpol’s hand softly. “I was really going to do it in the middle of the park during the sunset, you know?” Alan raised his eyebrow as he helped Khunpol to stand up — Khunpol then immediately linked their arms together and rested his head on Alan’s shoulder.

“Of course you do, you’re such a sap, Pasawee.” Khunpol nudged Alan’s shoulder with his head, “We can still visit the park and feed some ducks. I saw ducks and swans earlier!” Khunpol exclaimed afterward and they ended up at the park a little while after sunset, and scored an empty grass spot near the pond. Khunpol then insisted on buying some bread for the ducks — Alan laughed and kissed Khunpol again, before letting him go to find something to eat nonetheless. 

“Happy proposal day,” Khunpol said when he came back from his quest as he offered a piece of croissant in front of Alan’s face.

“A croissant?” Alan raised his eyebrow and stared at Khunpol playfully. 

“Hm, I gave you one back in Milan too when we first met again after years.” Khunpol nodded lightly, “I thought it’d be cute,” Khunpol added with a smirk, “Who knew that we would get this far?”

“I do.” Khunpol raised his eyebrow skeptically with a snort when Alan replied without a single hesitation, before Khunpol broke into a light chuckle.

“You always thought of proposing to me from the first time we met?” Khunpol replied as he took a seat beside Alan, letting half of his body weight resting on Alan while Alan circled one of his arms around Khunpol. 

“I always thought you’d matter.” Alan let out an exhale, “To me.” Khunpol hummed at Alan’s comment before they both fell into a silence. “You know what I never thought about though? Proposing someone in London, this city is actually not my most favorite but then again it has funnily witnessed many parts of me growing up.” Alan let out a chuckle when Khunpol snorted on purpose. 

“Life has always been a little bit like that, running around in a foreign country alone and leaving pieces of myself in many places whether I like it or not." Khunpol decided to sit himself up and turned his body to face Alan and folded both of his legs in front of him, “But you make life bigger, Khun.” Alan smiled as his gaze met Khunpol’s eyes.

And it has been the truth, that Alan had been to so many places and worked with so many faces, running around trying to capture and infinitize moments. It has always been his passion and love for photography, to create and build visuals that can be translated into stories and something more, to make vast connections with so many cultures and people — because Alan has always wanted to create something meaningful, and in the process of it, Alan had left so many fragments of himself. 

Yet Khunpol still managed to widen his horizon in ways he had never experienced and expected before, and in the process of loving Alan, Khunpol has held Alan together as a person. 

“Is this still part of your proposal speech?” Khunpol drew a sheepish grin. 

“Maybe.” Alan scrunched his nose and stole a kiss from Khunpol, “I just want you to know that—.” Alan paused, “Thank you for finding me in the middle of it all even when I’m scared that I couldn’t find you, and for being my solid ground, and I have never regretted stopping my bicycle in the middle of Como or taking that train to Milan, because you, you made life bigger yet easier, you ease everything,” Alan added afterward — Khunpol’s palm that was pressed against his cheek felt warm and soft, and familiar, and Alan wanted to bury himself in the gentleness of it all. Thus he nuzzled his face on Khunpol’s hand and made Khunpol chuckle. 

“This is actually feeling a little bit scary, there’s a weight on my ring finger like— goodness, this is getting real,” Khunpol said through his smile. 

“It is.” Alan laughed back, “Thank you for the croissant though, very supportive and endearing of you.” 

“I thought I’d puke at some point, you know?” Khunpol added afterward. 

“What? From waiting for me alone at the park?” 

“Honestly, I know you’d come,” Khunpol cut in without hesitation, “About the whole thing, like saying that I’m in love with you, or when I asked you whether you want to get married with me or not. You know, all that jazz yet not even once I wanted to puke, because it was never too much or too overwhelming,” Khunpol continued, “I also want you to know that— this is a scary little thing, but I am not scared because I’m doing it with you.” 

There was something about Khunpol that kept smiling throughout his statement that made Alan want to cry and hug Khunpol, or hide Khunpol inside his pocket so that he can carry Khunpol infinitely if he hasn’t done it yet. Alan had long realized that the world doesn’t dramatically change when Khunpol is around, it is just that something inside him had stopped searching for an unknown thing instead. 

Like a seed finding the right soil to bloom, Alan would have chosen that exact scenario over and over again. He would have chosen Khunpol over and over again, and knowing Khunpol would deliberately do the same is freeing — he’d put the ring on Khunpol’s finger over and over again. “I always got you, Khunpol.” 

—

Khunpol placed his phone on top of the metallic table, and the ‘Gravure spreads its influence into London’s creative media market as Gravure London officially launched today’ headline grazed his screen in bold font. “Seoul, London, I think they scored a deal with London around July last year,” Khunpol muttered as he tapped his left hand on his phone, a wedding band and an engagement ring gracefully sitting on his fourth finger. “They are very much going to adjust the advertorial price,” Khunpol concluded at the end. 

“Unusual pattern, if you ask me,” Alan commented while stuffing his mouth with a fried squid, “They are probably just playing darts with which big cities we should open next.” Khunpol let out a snort at the response and took the idle chopstick to start deboning the fish — Chinatown was surely packed that night, yet Alan wanted the seafood so bad. 

And Alan was flying out to Spain for Primavera Sound the next day to work, and Khunpol wouldn’t miss the chance to spend some free time with Alan before he traveled. “Their Seoul expansion is doing really good though,” Khunpol said as he raised his chopstick to feed Alan with fish meat, “Maybe it’s just their strategy.” 

“But using a dart is also plausible.” Khunpol raised his eyebrow at Alan’s comment and shrugged it off, “The biggest media and magazine company in Thailand is using a dart as their expansion strategy, imagine that.” 

“I’m so going to miss you and your ridiculous suggestions about marketing strategy, Pasawee,” Khunpol said. 

“I already miss you, Khun,” Alan hummed back. “But I don’t want to miss what’s in front of me, so I will say that I am going to miss you too. I wish I could just haul you to Barcelona.” 

“Me too, but I got work to do.” Khunpol sighed, before he caught Alan’s eyes. “And I’m not resigning, Alan, I love this job.” 

“I know, that’s why I didn’t say anything.” Alan smiled and patted Khunpol’s head, “I never want you to leave something you love, I would never ask you to do that,” Alan added before he raised his voice into a tiny sound and scrunched his nose, “But if it ever got a tiny bit exhausting or tediously boring—.”

“I thought we are saving up for an early retirement plan,” Khunpol cut in with a chuckle, and Alan is down bad for good, “A house in Como, nothing all day but sipping orange juice that we pick by ourselves from our backyard and hunting ice cream.”

“We will,” Alan said rather confidently, “We are going to be fine, Khun, we are still buying that house in Como.”

“I like the underlying conceited tone, you know, very poised, I like that about you, Pasawee.” Alan rolled his eyes at the comment, or whenever Khunpol is trying to be a tiny bit insufferable just to tease Alan. “But yeah, no— it’s not the money,” Khunpol added as he pried his eyes off Alan and concentrated on the rest of the fish instead. 

“I know.” Alan nodded as he grabbed Khunpol’s pinky finger just to play with it, “Well, before Como, we have to house hunt in Bangkok first though—.”

“There you are!” Alan definitely felt the presence and how the seat beside him was taken hastily, “We’ve been looking for like, twenty minutes.” Alan turned his head and found Heart staring at him in judgement.

“I am buying time to spend alone with my husband, can I not?” Alan reasoned with a slight scoff. 

“Yeah, it’s not too late to disown ten kids, you know, but try telling that to Thai and Peem that you’d like to renounce their adoption.” Marc deadpanned, in which Khunpol responded with a chuckle. 

“And Copper,” Heart added. “Phu and Ashi would probably be fine, Nex and Jung would probably throw a chair but they’ll get over it. Jinwook would throw a fit though.”

Alan palmed his face with his hands as he leaned to the table, “People would think that I did sign any adoption paper when I never did,” Alan stated.

“Where are they though?” Khunpol raised his eyebrows when he didn’t see anyone coming behind Marc and Heart. 

“Scattered, what are we expecting since we brought them to Yaowarat?” Heart shrugged as he took an idle chopstick and started feeding himself fried squid. “I suggest that you pick a house with a minimum of three bedrooms though, too many kids.”

“We are moving out of Alan’s apartment exactly because of that reason, you know.” Khunpol nodded while Alan was groaning in protest. 

“That’s great! This is going to be so much fun.”

—

On their wedding day that happened some months ago, Alan and Khunpol seated the ten of their dozen on the same table because they thought it would be a cute and silly little reunion of their friend group from their childhood memories. “It’s insane! How did you two end up together and married? That’s freaking insane!” Jinwook said first and foremost — he had flown from Seoul for the wedding which was very nice of him.

“Just— you know, we reconnected some times around last year and hit it off.” Khunpol laughed as Alan pulled him closer. 

“No, but this is like? What? When exactly did you two hit it off? We should have gathered together like a thousand years before this since our families are always in the same gathering by the way!” Copper chimed in with a huge grin from the other side. 

“A thousand years’s a bit too exaggerated but okay,” Heart commented nonchalantly. 

“Oh, I know exactly when they hit it off,” Thai commented, “Khun literally texted me and was like hey, do you remember Alan Pasawee? And I was like uh yeah, he was at my graduation party!” Thai added. 

“But it’s weird because I swear I met you both at some community gatherings way before last year yet you two never talked until then?” Marc raised his eyebrows in amusement. 

“I keep telling Alan that I went to your high school graduation party at your house,” Khunpol answered. 

“I saw you both there, I think,” Phutachai commented. “We talked, right?” The question was directed to Alan, who was busy directing his attention elsewhere as he tried his best to remember. 

“I’m betting like a hundred baht right now that he would say that the only thing he remembers from that graduation party is seeing Khun,” Thai said out of nowhere. 

“You know what, I bet he did,” Jung agreed and high-fived the latter. 

“Hey!” Alan let out a groan, “A little respect for the groom, please?”

“But it’s really cute though, I like the fact that you both just met randomly in Italy,” Ashirakon added with a small smile and raised his glass.

“Some divine intervention thing— bringing soulmates together kind of story,” Nex commented afterward. 

The dozen had stayed for a while, catching up with each other — and then Thai and Peemwasu did the thing where they got drunk and started hugging each of them one by one at the after party, “You guys! We actually made a pretty good team!” Peem called out in front of Jinwook’s face, and then Marc’s face, before he dropped his weight to Jung’s lap. 

“We should have a group chat together! So we can send—,” Thai paused when he saw Peem raising his thumbs, “Pictures! And memes!” Thai started sobbing, “Oh, I miss you guys a lot!”

“Do you think they’ll be fine or something?” Nex nudged Heart’s arm then, which was answered by, “Yeah, they’ll figure it out, I guess.”

“We used to ride a school bus together, oh my goodness!” Thai’s scream echoed again through the space.

Maybe some friendships do grow apart to find their way back to each other before they last for a really long time — piece by piece, they filled the gaps that formed because life happened after childhood. They soon learned that most of them still live in the same neighborhood and started to schedule regular meet-ups afterward. 

They also learned that Marc had graduated from medical school and Heart had been working for a major bank. Phutatchai took his sport seriously and is a part of Thailand’s national hockey team, while Jinwook is regularly going back and forth between Seoul and Bangkok to work as an interpreter while maintaining his family’s business. 

It was silly, the same way it was endearing and loud — Khunpol had called it, that it was going to be loud from that day they created a group chat and onwards. Yet the friendship grew naturally like ivy growing on houses, blooming in between stones and walls, and made the whole thing greener and lovelier — and none of them seems to mind the fact that they are gradually becoming attached to each other. 

“How’s marriage life?” Khunpol turned his attention to Nex, who had been sitting next to him on the picnic blanket, “And like moving to a new house, all that kind of adult jazz that you are doing?”

Khunpol grinned, “Why? Wanna give it a try?” 

“Don’t be ridiculous, I was just asking.” Nex nudged his arms against Khunpol’s arm. 

“I mean, you did date Phu for a while.” Nex threw a dead glare at Khunpol, “What? You did!”

“We were in, like, third grade of primary school and what do you mean for a while? It was more like one day. You’re high.” Nex snorted.

“Didn’t you break up because Phu didn’t show up for one play date and you thought he didn’t like you anymore and it turned out that he just napped too long?” Khunpol raised his eyebrows. 

“Oh, so now you have access to a memory bank from years ago.” Nex blew a raspberry. 

“I mean there was a spark there, no? I also used to have a huge crush on Alan back then.” Khunpol shrugged nonchalantly, “He’s my husband now, maybe a childhood crush does own its magical power.”

Nex made a disgusted face before he schooled it into a more serious expression, “So, marriage life is going just fine, noted.” Nex then moved to another side of the blanket to snatch a slice of watermelon from Copper’s lap — Copper was too distracted by the volleyball game the others were playing to notice the missing fruit. “I guess I was asking because it is such a big decision on your part. I am having a headache from just having to take masters.”

“Fair.” Khunpol hummed, “To be honest, it didn’t feel that big of a decision back then, when we decided to get married,” Khunpol continued, “I think it just naturally occurred to me that um, it didn’t make any sense if I am not spending the rest of my life with Alan. That fact alone was giving me headaches, because it was scary, it was—.” Khunpol paused for a bit, “Warm too,” Khunpol ended. 

“And it’s nice to know that Alan was also experiencing the same thing, it feels nice to know that you are not alone in going through all that.” Khunpol smiled and patted Nex’s knee, “Marriage is not all headache, it is fun.” 

“Because you are doing it with him,” Nex rolled his eyes as he pointed his chin at Alan’s direction, who was walking towards their direction. 

“Your turn, I’m not doing another round with them.” Alan nudged Nex’s shoulder, signaling him to stand up. 

Nex shot a look to Khunpol who responded, “Hey, I did like three games even before Alan, you were the one who has been relaxing ever since we got here.” Planning a trip to Krabi with a dozen people was a lot of homework, but they made it out somehow — and the next thing they knew after all the planning fiasco, the twelve of them were already chilling on a beach together. 

“I’m here to relax, not do some heavy sports,” Nex complained all the way through as he got up while Phutatchai was already shouting at him to hurry up. 

“Hey,” Khunpol only managed to say before Alan attacked him with kisses, cupping his face, and squeezing his cheeks on top of making obnoxious sounds as much as Alan could with the kisses all over Khunpol’s face. “I know what you’re doing,” Khunpol said as soon as Alan settled his head on his lap, the remaining available space of the blanket could only cover half of Alan’s body — the rest was resting on the sand. 

“What was I doing?” Alan grinned at Khunpol, who was staring at him skeptically. 

“You two are so disgusting, you are disturbing Copper,” Jinwook commented as soon as he arrived, followed by the rest of the boys who were playing earlier.

“I don’t know, I don’t see them actually. I have trained my selective vision and hearing, therefore I can stay unbothered.” Copper shrugged it off and ended up being attacked by Thai with kisses as well. 

“Don’t worry, Per, you got me,” Thai exclaimed as Copper maintained his nonchalant face as Thai hugged him from the side.

“Pizza’s here,” Marc announced as he popped out of the blue with Ashirakon, who was holding two boxes of pizza, “Sorry, the resort took a bit long to prepare them.” 

“See, this is the correct time to take a break,” Nex commented nonchalantly. 

“No, we take a break because you keep complaining as soon as we start a game.” Phutatchai snorted as he took a seat on the blanket, nudging Nex in the process because the blanket was too small for the twelve of them. 

Peemwasu then did a thing and almost knocked the pizza over from the box, which got everyone complaining and grunting — Heart then took over and started distributing the pieces, Jung managed to drag the ice box closer to them so he could give each one a can of soda. 

“This really feels like childhood all over again,” Thai said as he munched, “I’ve told you guys this is a brilliant idea!”

—

It was perhaps Alan's biggest heartbreak after their marriage and most of it was Alan’s fault, “I’m going to cry.” Alan frowned and whined, while Khunpol brushed his fringe away from his face before Khunpol took his hand, “I’m crying,” Alan said with a fake sob.

“Silly.” Khunpol giggled it away when he slipped their wedding band off Alan’s finger, and Alan did a gesture where he clutched his chest with his free hand and an extremely pained expression, before he slumped himself into Khunpol. His husband was sitting on the top of the sink counter, thus the ability of Alan to just drown his face in Khunpol’s chest as he stood in front of the latter. 

“You’re so dramatic.” Khunpol knitted his eyebrows together skeptically, when he guided Alan to stand properly afterward. He then took a necklace chain out of the jewelry box and slipped Alan’s wedding band like it was a pendant. “Let’s not lose this one, deal?” Khunpol said as he circled the necklace around Alan’s neck and clasped both ends together. 

“This gotta be some record breaking thing you know? A brand new set of wedding rings in the second year of marriage.” Alan huffed and played with his new ring that was hanging on his neck. He lost the first one out of pure accident and since their first set was customized, they decided to buy the new second set so Khunpol still would have a new matching wedding band with Alan. 

“You could wear it, still,” Alan said as he watched Khunpol chuckling his comment off and started to slip his ring into another necklace chain, “You don’t have to mirror me because of my clumsiness.” 

“I was thinking about not wearing it on my finger anyway,” Khunpol replied instead and got a funny look from Alan — like he was judging even though he knew it was most probably reasonable. Khunpol stayed looking at Alan for a little while before he added, “I don’t, uh, this is a bit of nonsense— but I am kind of tired of getting weird comments from multiple people at work about how being so young and married is somewhat a reckless thing to do.” Khunpol shrugged it off. 

Alan drew a sharp breath as he placed his arms on both of Khunpol’s side, guarding the latter, “How?” He tilted his head while knitting his eyebrows cynically. 

“No worries, Alan, they were just comments.” Khunpol smiled as he grabbed Alan’s jaw, smoothing it over with his thumbs, “I swear I don’t even think about them, I just, I just want them to stop making comments so I don’t have to listen to them preaching to me as if they care about my life.” 

“What is so reckless about our marriage anyway?" 

“I know right! I— they said I know nothing at this age, which is so strange, I feel like I know everything at this age,” Khunpol said as he chuckled. “I just have to be better, you know?” 

“You are already good enough, Khun,” Alan said instead. 

“Thank you,” Khunpol hummed as he leaned closer to Alan until their gap was just a breath away, palms cupping both Alan’s cheeks gently. “I know what you are thinking but.” Khunpol sighed and took a deep breath, “I love this job, I kind of want to do it for a very long time.” 

“Khun—.”

“And I have you, you got me, therefore I’ll be fine.” Khunpol kissed Alan swiftly and hastily, most probably to stop Alan from talking or thinking and it did. Because Alan would always give in and Khunpol would do everything to keep Alan in his embrace. “I love you, Pasawee.” Khunpol breathed on Alan’s skin as he hugged the latter, burying his entire face on the crook of Alan’s neck, with Alan holding him tight in return. 

—

“No way,” Alan slipped out when he saw Khunpol, dressed in a grey hoodie, twirling while stretching out his hand smugly in the middle of walking in Alan's direction as soon as he spotted Alan. Khunpol had two suitcases with him that were abandoned when Alan ran up to Khunpol and hugged him in bliss. 

“I made it to Bristol.” Khunpol giggled it away when Alan half-carried him up to the air. 

“I know, I know, you’re so sickening.” Alan laughed back and peppered Khunpol’s face with kisses, “I knew you sent me the flight details but this is insane, okay? Oh, I’m so excited!”

“I know, I have never been to Glastonbury, you know?” Khunpol replied instead with a grin.

“I’m excited to see you,” Alan corrected, and Khunpol made an o shape with his mouth. “Glastonbury is work for me.” 

“That’s your problem, Pasawee.” Khunpol deadpanned as Alan returned with a snort and squeezed Khunpol’s cheeks in endearment.

“I don’t care, I have you here,” Alan replied anyway before he placed a long kiss on the top of Khunpol’s head, “That fact alone has already wiped almost ninety percent of my problem.”

The summer when their marriage turned three, Khunpol booked a flight to England. Alan had a job for Glastonbury that he is always excited about, and Khunpol wanted a break from work. Alan had said that he would miss Khunpol a lot and again, and that time around, Khunpol said that he didn’t need to. 

“I almost like, have this worst case kind of assumption that they wouldn’t let you take your leave again at the last minute,” Alan said nonetheless as he dragged one of Khunpol’s baggage afterward.

“Me too.” Khunpol had agreed and had placed literally all worst case scenarios to Alan — that he might not be able to make it to Glastonbury at all. He had despised the thought. “My birds are saying that Gravure might be selling its Shanghai expansion plan to some other publishing house and it was pretty chaotic. It’s not my problem yet but I don’t know, everything Gravure does always concerns me somehow because their actions are, very much, going to impact their advertorial.”

“Hey, I think Gravure did something not long ago, how come they are always doing things?” Alan raised his eyebrows. 

“I don’t know— in the past three months, they have, first.” Khunpol paused as he typed something in his phone, Alan’s arm around his waist to guide him walking, “Scored a deal with The Leamington for their hotel magazine, which is insane!” Khunpol groaned, “We are still negotiating to get into the best placement for that grand project, which they are very secretive about,” Khunpol blabbered as they entered the parking lot. 

“Hey, aren’t you in contact with their art director?” Alan questioned. 

“Not frequently, it was mostly professional— I don’t know, he’s very nice and I don’t want to like, you know? Exposing my relationship with him because my team is going to pressure me into like, squishing information out of him,” Khunpol said as he shrugged rather nonchalantly. 

Alan let out a distasteful noise at the mention of Khunpol’s team somehow, thus Khunpol added while holding up his phone and showed Alan an Instagram post that wrote— The Bangkok Collective and its adoption story by the biggest media empire in Thailand. Khunpol then swiped the post and showed Alan a video of two men and a woman being together in what seems to be a soirée. 

“They can’t stand each other,” Alan commented playfully as he pointed out the two men in the video.

“Don’t say that, they are both the editor-in-chiefs.” Khunpol nudged Alan’s arm, “But this isn’t major, because we don’t care about The Bangkok Collective yet,” Khunpol emphasized the last word. “If we do then I won’t be here, Alan, I will be in our house, working.”

“Okay, good, let’s not care about them.” Alan teased as they both got into the car.

“I will, one day though, not now,” Khunpol replied, “I wonder what’s going on in that building sometimes.”

“How does one work for Gravure though?” Alan raised his eyebrow as he started driving, “Like you know, beside the recruitment process. It seems insane, my client said Gravure is curative about the people that work with and for them. I mean, do you think sometimes they just spot the people they think will fit them and be like— hey bro, wanna work with us?”

“I’m pretty sure there is a proper recruitment process.” Khunpol let out a chuckle. 

“Yeah, you’re right,” Alan said as he nodded, “You hungry?” 

“I am, but ordering room service from the hotel room sounds really nice right now.” Khunpol snickered, and Alan stole a glance at Khunpol before agreeing almost immediately. 

Sometimes when they were away from each other, Alan saw Khunpol whenever he closed his eyes. The longing was so immense, it almost always ripped Alan open and was ready to ruin him. That time, Alan didn’t have to imagine as he had Khunpol on his arms when he woke up, having Khunpol nuzzle his nose into Alan’s neck, having Khunpol’s shoulders for him to circle his arm around. That wasn’t a dream, Khunpol was there. 

The best part of it all was Khunpol being close to him on every set of Glastonbury that year. Alan loves, goodness, if there is a word that could’ve expressed the feeling of adoration bigger then Alan would’ve used it— loves the way Khunpol smiles. Khunpol’s smiling like the color blue — not in the sad and melodramatic way, but in the serene way like it was meant to ease breathing, like Alan could have drowned softly and safely. 

Like everything is going to be okay. 

“Do you hate it sometimes that I have to go abroad a lot to work?” Alan asked out of the blue when they were sitting on the top of a picnic mat that Alan borrowed from one of the backstage crew and Khunpol was trying to finish his bunny chow, on top of the fact that Dua Lipa was live in the background on the Pyramid Stage. 

“What?” Khunpol raised his eyebrows in confusion. “Do I hate you?” He tilted his head in more afterward with bemusement. 

“Khun.” Alan chuckled as he wiped the sauce off Khunpol’s lips area, “I said— do you hate it that I travel a lot for work?”

“No?” Khunpol replied almost immediately after it registered correctly into his head, more bewildered that Alan had to even ask, “You are always like that though? We literally met because you had a job in Como.” Khunpol chuckled, “Is it like, do I miss you? Yes, by a lot.” 

“That— that is, you know, I was trying to say that? Do you hate it sometimes that you have to miss me a lot because I wasn’t around? Do you wish I stayed in Bangkok more?” Alan asked again, deliberately that time. 

“Do you wish to stay home more?” Khunpol asked back with a smile that was so assuring that Alan might melt, “I love you, and I know that you love me as well,” Khunpol added instead when Alan failed to answer, “And because of that, I also, very much want you to love life.”

“Yeah, but I—.” Alan thought about it once more because words carry unspeakable weight once it was spoken — Alan wanted to have faith in his own words before saying them to Khunpol. Would Alan give up his life and goals and dreams for Khunpol? Would Alan have to end up choosing at the end?

“I don’t want you to, you never ask me to either,” Khunpol finished Alan’s thoughts, “You have to keep being happy, and live your life the way you envision it, I love you that is why I want you to keep doing what you love, okay?” Khunpol raised his hand at the end of it — Alan let out a chuckle as he high-fived Khunpol nonetheless. “I got you, Pasawee, always.”

Alan then fell into a silence for a while as he got his blood rushing to his cheeks and ears, before he let out an exhale, “Goodness, there is just this huge urge to squeeze you because I’m so in love with you.”

“I mean, sure— fuck kissing, right? Let’s just squeeze me.” Khunpol shrugged as he took the last bite of his bunny chow. “Also, missing you is a privilege.” 

“How so?”

“Because you miss me back as well.” Khunpol formed a sheepish grin. “Therefore, missing you, Alan, is a privilege. I don’t have to do all the longing alone.”

“Sometimes I do more than missing you, Khun.” Sometimes in Khunpol’s absence, Alan fell in love all over again with the thought of going back home to see Khunpol— and Khunpol would wait for him, and then fell in love again with the quiet assurance that he would choose Khunpol— and Khunpol would choose him back. He fell in love again because the love songs that he listened to on the plane would always make sense because Khunpol makes sense. He fell in love again because the world that he experienced and turned into stories, he will always have Khunpol to tell. 

“Okay.” Khunpol smiled as he nodded and leaned closer to Alan, “So squeeze me or kiss me?” Alan did both — squishing Khunpol’s cheeks and then kissing the latter. Sometimes, Alan fell in love for the thousandth time instead of missing Khunpol. 

—

Khunpol got a decent job offer that felt like they wouldn’t call him on his annual leave days, right on the Coldplay set when he was being comfortable in Alan’s arms at Glastonbury — so he decided to move on. One major fashion house to another, how bad could it be? Khunpol felt like he had gone through it all, every nitpick he dismissed was just a sign for him to be better — he knows he is good, he just needs to get better every single time. 

Because Khunpol loves the job he does — Khunpol loves building connections, Khunpol loves having to translate customers' perception of the brand, marketing aesthetic, having cultural relevances, creating stories so something becomes believable enough. 

“You are living everyone’s dream job, do better, Khunpol.” Khunpol did better, delivering KPIs like it’s nothing. “You are so lucky, you get to do things in your early years that many and many couldn’t, be grateful.” They said it as if Khunpol had complained, like Khunpol never appreciated the job enough. “This job is huge, you have to prove yourself that you deserve this job.” Khunpol tried and it was never enough, Khunpol did it all and still got a chain of, “You’re still young, you barely know anything. Just because you do well once or twice, you can’t act like you are all that, Khunpol.”

In the end, Khunpol loves the job and the job doesn’t love him back. 

“You have got to learn to be responsible, Khunpol.” The words rang like an obnoxious alarm clock on Sunday mornings, “Just because you worked on a bigger brand than us before, doesn’t mean you could just leave your task whenever you like.” Khunpol suffocated that time even though he was already so used to it — to the silly comments and harsh criticisms. 

“I’m saying my husband—,” Khunpol emphasized, he wasn’t really fond of telling people how married he is to avoid never ending judgments that he had gone through before too, “—is currently in the hospital, they need me to sign the paperwork.” Khunpol bit his lips so hard it tasted like blood, yet he wouldn’t cry— goodness, he had never cried in all six, seven years that he had been working. 

“And leave in the middle of our crucial campaign planning? Don’t be ridiculous, Khunpol.” How much Khunpol can actually endure in a day was seriously being tested right then, “You can leave when the party’s over and don’t even try using your annual leave. You should go back to your desk and don’t let yourself be a burden. Try to focus on the better thing.” 

All Khunpol does was to try anyway — trying to be good, trying to excel his tasks, trying to manage and regulate his professional emotions, trying not to get too personal, trying not to have breakdowns, trying not to be a burden, trying to be grateful for everything he gets to do and to experience, trying to be reasonable and respectful, and understanding. 

“Khun, I’m okay, I promise. I got Nex and Jung,” Alan lied through the phone, Khunpol could almost see him wincing. Jung texted him the second he hung up that Alan was not, based on how hard he gripped on Jung’s hand and that they had to use a wheelchair to get Alan out of the car. The only decent news was that Marc managed to come later on and to reason, and that because he was friends with the administration staff, to let Alan be handled and promised that Khunpol would sign the paperwork at his first convenience. 

“You know, husband— partner come and go, but if you do this job really well— well, it will take you to greater places, Khunpol.” The reckless statement made Khunpol wish he had more courage to just slam the table and leave it all. 

“Hey, so I’m calling to tell you that it’s most probably food poisoning. He’s not in a dying situation.” It was so apparent that Marc was trying to calm Khunpol through the line, “The doctor that handles him is still figuring out the cause and why it went down so badly with severe abdominal pain and blood vomit.” Khunpol stared at the moodboard in front of him blankly, he didn’t even blink. “But he’s going to be okay, Khun.” 

Khunpol wanted to puke the disheartening feelings out even when Marc said the good news — and the feelings kept following him at almost two in the morning as he walked down the hospital’s hallway, when they finally let Khunpol go from his tremendously demanding campaign plan. Khunpol opened the ward door slowly and saw the first source of light from Nex’s laptop on the sofa. “Hi,” Nex greeted him first as the only person who was still fully awake — Jung and Phutatchai were already fighting the drowsiness with their lives. 

Alan was sleeping soundly on the hospital bed and Khunpol only gave him a quick glance — there was some sort of gnawing guilt that was eating him alive from the inside and he would definitely puke if he was about to see Alan one more time in that state. “Why are you still on your laptop at this hour?” Khunpol asked Nex instead in a slow tone and like a curse breaker, Khunpol’s voice stirred Alan awake instead. 

“Khun?” Khunpol got no reason to keep avoiding Alan at that rate, thus he turned his attention and moved to Alan’s side, “Hey,” Alan added weakly, but the smile grew steadily as he reached out to Khunpol. “You are here.”

Khunpol wanted to die. “Which part is still in pain?” Khunpol managed to say as he seated himself on the space in the bed that Alan patted on, “Tell me.”

“All’s good, it wasn’t even that awful.” The comment got a loud snort from a sleepy Jung and a snicker from Phutatchai.

“Not that awful, his ass— he couldn’t even open his eyes the entire time because of how painful it was—ouch!” Nex elbowed Jung’s rib pretty hard and caused Jung to wince, and then he elbowed Phutatchai because he said, “His knuckles went white from grabbing my hand so tightly to divert the pain.” 

“But I’m fine now!” Alan countered to the rest of the boys before he put his attention back to Khunpol, who had his shoulders slumped pretty low. “I’m fine, Khun, it’s fine, the doctor said that I am definitely going to get better, it’s just—.” Alan was cut by the way Khunpol was suddenly hugging him, swift yet gentle, like he was still scared that he’d hurt Alan. 

“Okay, we’ll be out to find some snacks, I am famished!” Nex announced out of the blue as he dragged both of his friends out of the ward, despite the chain of protests and complaints of how the canteen was already closed at that hour — Nex didn’t listen and forced them three, including himself, to leave anyway.

Alan then proceeded to hug Khunpol back as he let out a really soft chuckle in between, and only hesitated when the exposed skin of his neck blade got wet. Khunpol buried his face closer to Alan when the sobbing echoed through the air. “Khunpol,” Alan called out gently when the sound got louder — Khunpol was crying like he had never shed a tear before. 

“Hey.” Alan patted the back of Khunpol’s head and threaded his hair, “I’m okay.”

“I’m so sorry.” Khunpol muttered in between his tears and multiple attempts to breathe properly — all miserably failed as he cried harder each time he tried to stop. “Alan, I—.”

“What are you apologizing for? You are not the food that poisoned me!” Alan tried to lighten the mood because how badly Khunpol was crying, actually worried him. Khunpol is not a crier in general, let alone a heavy crier — the way Khunpol was struggling to even breathe because he was bawling hard was not a sight Alan is used to. “Oh love, it’s okay, we are going to be okay, I got you.” 

“I’m—.” Khunpol sobbed again into Alan’s neck and the hug got even tighter, like if Khunpol slipped away just a little then Alan would be gone.

“I’m not dying.” Alan rested his temple on Khunpol’s head gently, “I am still very much here, Khun.” 

“But what if you are?” Khunpol muttered, “And what if I’m stuck on my job instead of being with you?” Khunpol was trembling hard at that point, Alan had to hold his hand.

“I promise that I will refuse to die if it’s not in your presence.” Alan really did try to ease the sadness that Khunpol was experiencing, yet instead Khunpol let out another series of bawling — thus Alan let him be for however long Khunpol needed. 

There was a trail of dried tears on Khunpol’s cheeks and very red eyes when Khunpol finally pulled away after what felt like hours of crying, snorting and still a little bit weeping, “I don’t have any tears left.” Alan let out a light laugh at the comment, and Alan has always known that Khunpol was a stronger one in between them — he stands by clear principles and a solid sense of being. Khunpol went through things with a mindset that everything will eventually be fine anyway, Khunpol just needs to grow and learn to always be better. The solution to all of his problems is to constantly elevate himself, thus the reason why Khunpol is so good at everything he does.

“You cried a lot, that’s okay.” Alan wiped Khunpol’s cheek gently, “You should rest, you must be really exhausted.”

“But how am I going to make up for the time I wasn’t here to take care of you?” Khunpol whispered and Alan smiled fondly in return. 

“We have all the time in the world, Khunpol, we always do.” Khunpol didn’t resist, or didn’t possess any energy left when Alan guided him to lie next to Alan, as he softly stroked Khunpol’s hair with much tenderness because Khunpol deserved that and everything. “Have a good rest, Khun.” Alan pressed a kiss on Khunpol’s temple when he felt the latter’s breathing was more regulated as they both drifted away. 

Khunpol only woke up several hours later with puffy eyes and a runny nose — he could feel his cheek flushed as it was pressed against Alan’s chest. “Hey, it’s okay, please sleep more.” Khunpol caressed Alan’s face serenely when Alan stirred as Khunpol moved away to check on his phone. It was around seven in the morning, and there was a message from Marc to inform that he was visiting to meet Khunpol.

“Hm, going?” Alan didn’t open his eyes and spoke groggily, his hand was already reaching for Khunpol.

“Yeah, just for a bit. Marc is stopping by from his shift,” Khunpol whispered as he pressed his lips on Alan’s hand before he spotted how Nex, Jung, and Phutatchai were all sleeping and tangled on one couch — which was a pretty funny sight, Khunpol made a mental note to take a photo. Alan answered with jumbled words that didn’t make sense, and Khunpol had to force himself to stop looking at Alan with worry and moved his body to leave the room.

“Khun,” Marc called him as he was walking towards him when Khunpol exited the ward, “Oh shit, your eyes are so puffed, everything’s okay?” Khunpol shook his head lightly as he tried to form a small smile at Marc, “Have you been crying?”

“Yeah.” Khunpol snorted back his runny nose as he seated himself next to Marc at the chairs in the hospital hallway. 

“He’s okay, right? The doctor said he’s going to be okay?” Marc hesitated his own statement when Khunpol’s face fell a little bit.

“Yeah,” Khunpol replied almost silently, “Alan’s fine.”

“Okay.” Marc didn’t push further and handed Khunpol a file instead, “The paperwork, I took them from the administration desk. You can sign now.” Khunpol opened the file and stared at the blank spouse column, “Typically they do not require your sign but since Alan’s case was categorized as an emergency, and Alan wasn’t—.” Marc paused because it was visible that Khunpol tensed just from the side, “He was unable to sign for himself,” Marc reworded at the end.

“What did you say to your friend at the admission desk?” Khunpol shifted the topic. 

“Either I forge Alan’s sign or she can trust me that I will get your sign at the first convenience.” Marc shrugged and Khunpol snorted before letting out a small laugh.

“I will bring this back to the administration desk, thank you, Marc,” Khunpol said after he signed the paper. 

“No need, Khun, I have to go back to my station either way. I’ll do you a favor, no worries.” Marc patted Khunpol’s shoulder, “You okay? Oh, I bought this for you,” Marc said as he handed Khunpol a cup of coffee he set aside on the empty chair next to him. Khunpol didn’t respond when he took the coffee so Marc added, “You know you can tell me things, right? I know you’re the parents but I’m still older.”

“By three months, yeah, Marc.” Khunpol let out a chuckle as he turned his figure to face Marc and exhaled, “I don’t know whether it’s still worth it or not at this point, you know, this job.” 

“That’s a lot coming from you.” Marc hummed. 

“What is it? I have no professional boundaries until it’s about Alan?” Khunpol broke a grin, Marc knew better.

“Well, your boundaries have got to start somewhere, and if it starts with Alan then so be it. Your survival kit only consists of Alan after all,” Marc said as he nudged Khunpol’s arm lightly. “I know that you think that you are going to be all fine as long as you have Alan, but you are not required to be mentally drained to do the things you love. That’s like, how people get burnt out, you know,” Marc added at the end. 

“It’s been years, you are allowed to take a break.” Khunpol didn’t meet Marc’s eyes directly after Marc’s statement, he spent seconds to register what Marc meant by it, “Don’t wait until you start seeing your passion with hatred, Khun.”

Khunpol went back to the ward after he stopped by the hospital canteen to buy some breakfast for Nex, Jung, and Phutatchai, only to find Alan and Nex was already up. “Hey, the nurse stopped by to bring breakfast,” Alan informed when Khunpol eyed the tray in front of Alan as he walked to Nex, who was already on his laptop.

“Wait, I’ll feed you,” Khunpol said as he handed Nex the food — the latter said his thanks while his eyes were still fixed on his paper — before sitting himself on the empty space of Alan’s bed. 

“I am actually already healthy enough to eat by myself but who am I to refuse such an offer?” Alan grinned playfully before it melted into a smile as he reached for Khunpol’s puffed eyes, “I can request for some ice.” Khunpol shook his head at the suggestion, “How are you?”

“I miss you,” Khunpol replied instead in whispers, “I’m sorry, you must’ve been worried, I’m fine.” Alan shook his head and held Khunpol’s hand. 

“No, you’re not fine but we don’t have to talk about it right now,” Alan whispered back and pressed a kiss on the back of Khunpol’s hand. “Nevertheless, I love you, Khunpol, and I got you.”

—

Khunpol spiraled into the blues after the hospital incident and after so many years staying in the eye of the storm that comes in the form of Alan while ignoring the actual storms surrounding him — he could overcome every single damage and chaos happening in his life as long as he got Alan, he always could. He could always try if he could not. It wasn’t the first time they argued about it — about Khunpol’s crazy and corrosive work environment that seems to have no end, and how Khunpol is more than capable of finding better places to thrive. 

“You’ll find something, Khun, you’re so good at what you do, companies are at their biggest loss for not appreciating you.” Alan was always angrier than Khunpol about it,  “I know you love to do your job but I don’t want you to suffer while doing it.”

“I’m not suffering as long as I can always go back home to you,” Khunpol romanticized and Alan was not amused by it, rolling his eyes accompanied with series of grunts and all, “I mean if I resign then we are no longer having that double-income-with-no-kids trendy status.” Khunpol tried to reason nonsensically. 

“We have ten kids!” Alan played along anyway. 

“That’s even more reason to not resign.” Khunpol tried so hard not to let out a chuckle because of how inappropriately funny it was in that situation. 

“I got us perfectly fine.” Alan sighed as he held Khunpol’s cheeks, “I have presented the case for you— the three P’s, okay? Pasawee provides and pays.” Khunpol broke into a laugh, “Do whatever you want, Khunpol, I promise you can stay at home or go find another job, as long as none of it kills you inside.” 

In the end, it took Khunpol all the courage he had to quit. There were endless amounts of people telling him how he was wasting his potential, or that he will waste his life away, or that he won’t find any better opportunities. Maybe Khunpol won’t, maybe Khunpol will. He doesn’t know it yet, but the universe can decide for him later. 

“Maybe I can finally learn how to make coffee with your fancy coffee machine now that I actually have the time,” Khunpol teased one morning on his newfound unemployed era and Alan spent a day explaining and tutoring him how to make coffees from scratch. Khunpol ended up being bad still, so he tried whisking matcha instead. 

From rushed mornings with deadlines to slow mornings — it required bigger adjustments than Khunpol thought it would — he suddenly no longer had to deal with intense pressure and unnecessary comments about his works, the nitpicking stopped and never came around anymore. He didn’t have to beg for annual leaves from anyone when Alan asked him to accompany Alan to do some jobs in Japan — he was just suddenly in Osaka with his husband. And Thai. And Jinwook and Peemwasu.

They went to Universal Studio Japan for fun and giggles on the third day of their trip, with a new additional members of Phutatchai and Nex that spawned out of nowhere and showed up on their Airbnb door right before they went to the amusement park. “It’s like we are trailing them on their nth honeymoon,” Thai commented rather in disgust when Alan couldn’t stop kissing Khunpol on their way to the ride — or when they were actually on the ride nonetheless. 

“This one’s on a honeymoon as well?” Jinwook nudged Nex’s arm, who was walking side by side with Phutatchai.

“We are literally just walking.” Phutatchai rolled his eyes and stuffed his hands inside his jacket for whatever reason.

“Someone’s— okay, maybe another two people from our group should date next.” Peem shrugged nonchalantly when his eyes met Nex, who was looking at him skeptically. “I mean, it’s just bound to happen!” 

“Who? Us?” Thai then nudged Peem’s arms playfully and Peem let out a devastated whine. 

“I mean, Nex used to date Phu in primary school,” Khunpol chimed in, Alan’s arm was around his shoulder the whole time. 

“Okay, that was years ago!” Phutatchai huffed. “For one day, and then we broke up because I didn’t give him candy the next day.”

“And then we got back together, and we broke up again because you didn’t show up at the playground.” Nex deadpanned.

“They’re so going to take that one to the grave,” Alan said in a low voice, intending that the sentence would only be heard by Khunpol because he didn’t want to add more fuel to the debates happening behind him. 

“They will for sure.” Khunpol let out a chuckle, and Alan pressed another kiss on his temple. 

Things then being discovered on their fifth day in Osaka, while they were just chilling around, “Hey, didn’t you just pass your probation or something? How can they grant you an annual leave to Japan?” Jinwook questioned Thai rather in confusion. 

“Because my boss is not an ass and my company is a non-toxic machine.” Thai snorted, “Capitalist yes, but never a torture machine.” 

“Gravure, isn’t it?” Khunpol raised his eyebrow as he finished whisking the matcha powder he just bought from earlier. Alan had bought him the entire matcha set bowl from an authentic shop in Osaka, which allowed him to make a glass of matcha latte in their Airbnb. 

“Yeah, but not the magazine! Once again, not the magazine, people!” Thai threw his hands into the air. “I’m with their publishing house, which is way more corporate and handles more boring stuff. Please don’t ask me why blue is the color of the summer of two thousand and twenty-six!”

“Still weird, every time someone mentions a capitalist corporation, I only picture his former companies instead, which are terrible examples.” Jinwook pointed at Khunpol nonchalantly, “I’m glad you moved on.” 

“And living the peaceful life that he deserves after years of chaos,” Thai hummed, “You know, having a rich, working husband and whisking matcha every morning.” Khunpol snorted at Thai’s comment and handed Peemwasu a glass. “My dream in the distant future,” Thai joked. 

“You know, I will start my internship soon— I will too, be a working boy,” Peemwasu commented out of nowhere as he took a sip of the matcha latte, “Oh my goodness, this is so good? Hello!” Peemwasu exclaimed as he took another gulp, “Wait, this actually slaps, what the hell?” Peemwasu nudged Khunpol’s arm excitedly. “This would totally pass if you ever decided to sell it, I swear!”

Because Peemwasu is actually a rising influencer with a rapid growing followers so he had a very valid opinion on what’s happening in social media — he insisted that it was matcha — and because Khunpol possesses an expertise in marketing so the branding and all that jazz came up pretty effortlessly, and because Alan bought a plastic table and a really nice looking table cloth to set up Khunpol’s little matcha bar in front of their garage. 

“This can keep me busy for a bit,” Khunpol said as he stared at his bar setting and then figured out he probably couldn’t get past whisking more than fifteen cups a day after making a cup of matcha latte for everyone in their dozen.

Therefore, Khunpol started to think about playing chess or crocheting. Because he has rooms for hobbies now. Because Khunpol needed rooms for other things. 

—

Khunpol didn’t end up getting into crocheting and playing chess was only fun if he’s doing it with Alan, or Jung, or Heart. The most fun part of his unemployment was when he was trailing Alan to different cities or countries, but even he didn’t have the energy to follow Alan in every job he takes. When Alan’s away, he always has someone in their house and it was basically always a party — so the hollowness wasn’t rooted from loneliness. 

Copper even went and dragged him out of the house one day to a concert of a boyband that Khunpol had no idea who they were, and since Copper worked for Live Nation and was granted free complimentary tickets, Khunpol tagged along with the younger one. He had fun — correction, he had momentary fun. The feelings of a lot of things had been fleeting on the ceilings like a ghost. 

When he was presented with the options after his resignation, Khunpol chose to be unemployed to clear his mind and to navigate his goals and boundaries better. Sometimes he misses the chaos, but he also loves being able to see Alan more on a daily basis and does more mundane stuff together — like a typical married couple. He certainly misses working though, that’s most probably why he stayed so long at his previous jobs. 

“It’s sad that they don’t have Glastonbury this year, I would've hauled you there in a heartbeat.” Three and a half months after Khunpol resigned, he found out that he likes doing laundry. Alan was then leaning against the door frame of their laundry room with his iPad on his hand — he wanted to try doing their taxes before sending it to his family tax consultant. 

“Yeah, I’m still kinda sad that we miss last year’s headliner.” Khunpol was sitting on the floor with two empty laundry baskets, looking up to Alan with a frown. 

“It wasn't as fun as when I was experiencing it with you though.” Alan grinned sheepishly. 

“Wow, you’re so flirting with me.” Khunpol raised his eyebrows.

“That’s my favorite thing to do ever,” Alan replied instead, in which Khunpol responded with head shaking in disbelief and amusement. They fell silent for a little while, the sound of the washing machine mainly filling the small space when Alan said, “Hey, Khun.”

“Yeah?”

“I’m not saying this because I am asking or forcing you to do this, okay?” Khunpol scrunched his nose in confusion, “But like— have you decided whether or not you want to look for a job?” Alan didn’t hesitate when delivering it, but there was some careful tone and consideration on the layers. 

“I have a job, I am actively maintaining my matcha bar and micro business,” Khunpol defended with determination that Alan actually broke into a chuckle.

“Of course you are,” Alan said fondly as he tilted his head, “It’s just that— look, Khun, you’ve spent years enduring shits because you love what you are doing so much, I just, I feel like you are not savoring this whole—.” Alan made a circular motion on the washing machine. 

“Hey! I like doing laundry!” Khunpol let out a giggle. 

“I didn’t mean the washing machine.” Alan huffed and added, “I just, sometimes you spaced out like you are gone for a moment.” Khunpol didn’t think he did that, but there were times where he was so bored and jaded ever since he stopped working, “Strangely, I’ve seen you being stressed and overwhelmed before but you never blanked out like that. I’m very conflicted to decide which one is the lesser bad.” 

“I’m thrilled that you decided to take a break and explore new things instead of jumping right off to the next job on sight, but.” Alan paused as he looked right through Khunpol, “If this doesn’t nearly excite you as much, I don’t think this is a solution either way.” Khunpol didn’t move at the elaboration but his eyes stayed at Alan as Alan took a seat on the floor just across him.

“Khunpol, I love you, and I know that you love me,” Alan said before he breathed out, “But I also want you to love life as well.” 

It has always been exactly like that — they never had to choose between each other or life. They can always choose each other and life, because sometimes love itself doesn’t cost anything. The easiest yes, the doomed fears, the constant courage. “Nonetheless, take your time with it, okay? I got you, no matter how long you take.” 

“You got me,” Khunpol replied in a hushed tone, there was a visible guilt and regret that Alan wanted to kiss away, “I’m sorry I am no longer the boy with big ambitions while running around fashion week that you met in Como years ago,” Khunpol added with a small flat smile, like he truly wanted to get that boy back. 

“What are you talking about?” Alan let out a soft chuckle, “I have loved every version of you, Khunpol, and I will love every incoming version of you, and I love this version of you that likes doing the laundry,” Alan said, more than just an assurance — it was the genuine truth. “Sometimes I do more than just missing you,” Alan added, “Sometimes I fall in love over and over again for a thousandth time.”

“Okay.” Khunpol grew a smile when Alan raised his hand for a high-five — Khunpol made an effort to move and high-fived the latter before they broke into a chuckle. 

“With that being said, I, uh— how do I break this to you.” Khunpol’s eyebrow raised in worry before Alan shook his head, “Hey, it’s not bad news, it’s just— I’m going to stay more in Bangkok for the following months to come,” Alan elaborated, “So, no more work trips abroad— well, there’s still a couple left but it is because I can’t cancel or I have signed the deal since last year, but for now, I am only taking the jobs in Bangkok.” 

“Why?” Khunpol scrunched his forehead, as if he already knew the answer. 

“Look, Khun, I’m not going to let you navigate life alone, okay? We are in this together, let us be confused together,” Alan replied.

“Alan, I’m fine and I’m going to be fine, I promise,” Khunpol replied instead — it came out more like a whine nonetheless as he looked at Alan in mild exasperation.

“Yeah, cool, that’s great!” Alan grinned, “But I still want to be with you more,” Alan added anyway. 

“You literally just told me to love life—.”

“You are the life I want to love.” Khunpol really looked like he didn’t buy the sentence, “I have already loved life a lot previously, and I will probably love life more in the future,” Alan then added, “But for the time being, I want to be with you, right here, right now.” Alan smiled at the end of it when Khunpol let out an exhale that slumped his shoulders. 

“Doing laundry and taxes with you is fun,” Alan continued, which broke Khunpol’s chuckle — which was equivalent to the most exciting sound in the entire universe. 

“The line didn’t go like that, you know? It starts with— in another life—.”

“No, we will have it in this one life.” Alan cut into Khunpol's mid-quote with a wide smile, “If in another life— goodness, I do hope so— that we are still doing laundry and taxes together, then it’s good for them! But I want it in this one.”

“You’re still such a sap, Pasawee,” Khunpol replied with another set of chuckles, and kicked Alan’s leg playfully with his foot. “You can still think about it, you know? I know Glastonbury is cancelled this year, but there are many major festivals around the year, or fashion weeks, or maybe there’s a job in Montenegro— you have been wanting to go there for months!” Khunpol paused, “Think about it.”

“I have been thinking, actually for months since your resignation.” Alan tilted his head and stared at Khunpol affectionately, “I was still thinking about it.”

“Until?”

“Until this morning,” Alan replied rather solemnly — that morning Alan came home from Vietnam and didn’t tell Khunpol that he was coming earlier. He found Khunpol whisking his matcha in front of their garage, Jung on his side watching while Thai was waiting for his matcha latte to be done before he could go to work. Khunpol beamed at the sight of Alan almost immediately and threw himself on him. Khunpol had then said, “Hey, I kinda finally figured it out.”

Alan had tilted his head in confusion, yet letting Khunpol drag him inside the house and to their kitchen area. Alan didn’t get it fully until Khunpol tried to operate Alan’s fancy coffee machine because Khunpol had sworn that he wouldn’t touch it anymore — because he always ended up with terrible tasting coffee. Thus, he would always wait for Alan to be home to make him a cup of good coffee. 

Something had swelled in Alan’s chest instead when Khunpol asked him to taste the coffee he made — and it tasted decent, drinkable. “It’s okay, right?” Khunpol’s eyes widened in anticipation and mirth, “I know it’s not good yet but I’m progressing, I’ll be able to make my own coffee, and for the shop.” Alan kissed Khunpol instead as an answer, there was some sort of unexplainable melancholy that lingered around in the air.

About how Khunpol quietly figures things out alone. About how it silently killed Alan bits by bits. About how Khunpol has always been there waiting for him and never complained about it. About how Khunpol always celebrates his wins and stories, about how Khunpol always holds his being when his nights are blue. About how Alan would rather die than missing Khunpol right then. 

It wasn’t like Alan didn't want Khunpol to be able to do things on his own, but something terribly suffocated him that Khunpol had to. Khunpol deserves him, deserves having him around to do things that Khunpol couldn’t do. The sickening thought about letting Khunpol explore life alone without having Alan around to share his little milestones — Alan felt like gnawing his heart out and offering it to Khunpol as an apology. 

“Don’t learn how to make coffee, I’ll make them for you.” Alan added instead, “Or be good, but I’ll teach you because I’ll be around.” Alan delivered it so delicately that his voice cracked at the end of it. 

“Alan,” Khunpol called out softly. 

“I want you to be good at new things, but I want to be around you to witness you finding your sparks back.” Alan said with a smile, “I love you, Khunpol, therefore, I don’t want you to walk alone,” Alan continued, “Okay?” Alan nodded enthusiastically — he might cry, but he didn’t. “Let me be with you throughout this time, yeah?” 

Maybe Alan did choke on his unshed tears when he said, “We are going to get through this together, you and me.” Actually, he’d offer the world to Khunpol as an apology, but he knew Khunpol would laugh it off and said that there was nothing Alan should apologize for because Alan did nothing wrong. Thus he offered himself instead, as a promise.

“Pasawee, you are unbelievable.” Khunpol sighed, as Alan moved to stand up and walked closer to Khunpol. 

He stretched out his hand for Khunpol to grab as Khunpol looked up to him, “Come on, we missed last year’s Glastonbury and they cancelled this year.” Khunpol raised his eyebrows in confusion, “But we can always dance to The 1975 in our laundry room.” Khunpol let out an amused scoff as he took Alan’s hand.

“I should’ve resigned sooner so that we could’ve jammed to Somebody Else last year at Glastonbury,” Khunpol commented nonchalantly. “Don’t ever get into corporate, Alan.” Khunpol then deadpanned as he circled his arms around Alan’s neck.

“Who knows? I have been thinking that I might fit into corporate jobs.” Alan grinned as he put on the song on his iPad before putting it away. 

“What.” Khunpol burst into a laughter on how there was an underlying seriousness in Alan while saying it, “You’ll get bored, I know you.” 

“There’s no harm in trying!” Alan laughed back, “We can job hunt together if you want to.” Khunpol didn’t react to the suggestion for a little while, letting the sound of the song and the washing machine take over the air — Alan had always known it was coming, he didn’t know Khunpol just yesterday. He knows Khunpol like one just knows how to breathe — they were entering their fifth year of marriage anyway, Alan had long learned and is familiar with how Khunpol operates like the back of his hand. 

“I don’t know, Alan, it’s—.” Khunpol scrunched his nose before dropping his head, there was a hint of sadness that remained, “I have never been this terrified about jobs— but not like about the jobs itself,” Khunpol said in a low tone as he bit his lips, “I keep thinking about that night at the hospital and thought how I will never find a good company to work at, they are all probably the same, I know it’s not the case but.”

“That’s okay, take your time. I can take care of you.” Alan exhaled as he dipped his head lower and bumped their noses together, “Hey.” Alan raised Khunpol’s chin with his fingers as Khunpol’s grip tightened around his neck, “I’ll be here, I got you, Khun, I promise.” His eyes met Khunpol’s lost ones, “You’ll find a company that loves you as much as you love doing what you are passionate about.” 

—

“In Gravure, we believe that the process is as important as the results, and the creative process is such a complex and dynamic thing. Therefore, we have always thrived to make Gravure a hospitable place to learn and to explore.” The sound from Thai’s iPad was loud and clear, while it was sitting on Alan and Khunpol’s dining table. “Please drop it gently that Gravure is stopping the internship program,” Thai whispered to the screen. 

“Wasn’t it pre-recorded? It’s an Instagram content, Thai.” Khunpol chuckled from the side. 

“Yes, but we didn’t get to review the script, okay! And it’s sending my boss into a spiraling headache because Gravure is getting a tiny bit rebellious. Oh my goodness, now that I think about it— it’s probably not scripted since he’s the one talking!” Thai blabbered as he pointed at the screen. 

“Why? You don’t think it’s some sort of scripted thing? We thrived to make Gravure a comfortable place to work— you think it didn’t sound scripted and bullshit-y?” Khunpol raised his eyebrows. 

“Arm Weerayut would never.” Thai huffed as he stared at the man on the screen, “He’s a lot of things but sprouting bullshits is not one of them. Let me tell you that he’s all about principles and pride,” Thai added nonchalantly, “And the whole house has some sort of attachment issue with him, so you can hold on to his words, I think.” 

Arm Weerayut is probably the most influential editor-in-chief of the most influential magazine in Thailand — the influential being mentioned twice is always intentional. “He’s charming,” Khunpol replied instead as he stared at the screen.

“He is, he’s borderline perfect — goodness knows what his weaknesses are. He’s eloquent, he’s freaking rich, he drives the newest Audi each time. He smells good, dresses even better,” Thai added as he threw his hands into the air and immediately exhaled when Arm Weerayut delivered the smoothest line with his even smoother smile, of why Gravure is stopping their internship program, “See, he’s perfect.” 

“And he’s not, you know, conceited or something?” Khunpol raised his eyebrows. 

“My boss, which is technically his boss, likes him. He is her favorite golden child. Here’s the thing, my boss only likes a handful of people genuinely.” Thai didn’t actually answer the question anyway until he added, “Nope, he’s nice, he’s too nice. Goodness, way too nice, you’ll like him.”

“You’ll fit Gravure, you know,” Thai commented after a brief pause, “The magazine, not the publishing house like me,” Thai emphasized, “It is kind of your niche, big brand names, insanity that is rooted from creativity, fashion and lifestyle stuff, printed media, advertisements that create stories instead of just marketing.” 

“Too bad they just stopped their internship program.” Khunpol joked as he chuckled, before he felt a weight from behind — Alan then made a sound as he rested his entire body on his back, arms finding his way hanging from Khunpol’s shoulders and his lips on top of Khunpol’s head. 

“You’re way too skilled to apply for internships, anyway!" Thai exclaimed.

“I can, I never had a corporate experience before,” Alan said instead as he rested his chin on Khunpol's head. 

“They’re closing the internship program,” Khunpol said as he patted Alan’s arms lightly.

“Why’s he serious about job hunting?” Thai pointed his chin at Alan in a much questioning manner, “You are already self-employed, corporations are evil.” 

“I’m just curious.”  Alan shrugged nonchalantly. 

“Anyway.” Thai rolled his eyes, “I am asking this because I know this is like, your expertise but this is also highly hypothetical, okay?” Khunpol nodded when Thai turned his whole figure to face Khunpol, “Like, hypothetically, how bad it is, you know?” Khunpol let out a chortle when Thai looked like he expected an answer already, thus he shook his head afterward. Thai let out a sigh as he added, “You know, if let’s say— an entire advertorial catalogue, is being leaked and sold to a dark web?” Thai blabbered, “Hypothetically!” Thai added when Khunpol’s eyes widened. 

“There’s literally nothing good happening in your sentence,” Alan replied instead. 

“I know! But hypothetical!” Thai showed his teeth and raised his thumbs up, like he wanted to grin but this wasn’t entirely funny for him. 

“It’s like, really bad, Thai,” Khunpol replied afterward.

“Okay, good to know, good to know.” Thai nodded his head rapidly and clicked his fingers together, “Actually very overwhelming to know! But you know! Everything is going to be just fine.”