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It was almost daybreak when there was a steady (if we couldn’t call it demanding) knock on his apartment’s door. Kongpob, who was still working on rewriting the third chapter of his thesis since hours ago, frowned his eyebrows. He didn’t have any appointment with anyone at this ungodly hour (who on their right mind would do that, anyway?), so who might be at the front of his door?
His over-stimulated brain suddenly remembered some horror stories his classmates told them during one of their hanging out sessions at a pub, that a friend of his friend’s cousin’s friend (don’t think hard about it, I am confused too) once heard a knock on their door in the dead of the night and when they opened the door there was a floating, severed head asking for them whether they had seen his body. Kongpob shook his head wildly, tried to shake away the gruesome imagination out of his head.
The knocks were heard again, even more demanding now. Kongpob finally stood up and went to the door after he grabbed the heaviest item he could find in his kitchenette: the cast iron wok his mom bought him during one of her visits. He slowly peeked through the spy hole, fully hoping that he wouldn’t have to see a severed head floating in front of his door. And of course, he wouldn’t see one. Instead, what his eyes saw made him single-handedly open the door as wide and as fast as he could without any hesitation.
His eyes turned into saucers in shock as he drank the view in front of him, and without further thinking he drew his guest into his hug. One of his hands clasped hard on the waist of the person in his arms; the other still held the wok firmly. He was so elated; the one who had been tormenting him even in his sleep finally showed up, and on top of that, that person was in his embrace.
“This isn’t a dream, right? I am not dreaming, right?” His voice trembled while the one in his hug just gave out a muffled laugh. When the hug was released and they put their forehead against one another, Kongpob whispered the first question he had without further thinking, “Wh… Wh… Why are you here, at four in the morning, for God’s sake??!”
There was actually a long train of questions wanted to slip out from his tongue but it failed miserably as he felt another lips came crashing on his without warning, in a hot, demanding kiss, sealing in all the words threatening to come out.
When he reluctantly broke the kiss to grant air into their screaming lungs, he could see Arthit frowned his eyebrows in a half teasing and half reprimanding way, and asked him back, “Seriously? We haven’t met for nearly 6 months straight and that’s the first thing you said to me?”
Kongpob smiled sheepishly at the question, but he didn’t have the chance to answer because he noticed that Arthit’s playful expression had morphed into confusion in a split of second. As he followed Arthit’s line of sight, he saw the heavy-looking wok was still in his hand, which seemed ready to fly towards anything or anyone to protect its owner. He abruptly hid the wok behind his back with slight embarrassment.
“There’s a reason for that, a long story even, but now please come in,” Kongpob invited Arthit in, which he followed without further ado. As Arthit took his traveling coat and jacket off, Kongpob silently returned the wok to its place and went to his wardrobe.
“I know this is almost breaking dawn, but please refresh yourself Phi. The flight seemed to get you quite bad.” Kongpob said as he handed Arthit a set of new toiletries, a pair of pajamas, a clean towel, and pointed to the bathroom. Arthit just nodded and smiled weakly as he muttered a soft thank you and walked to the direction Kongpob showed. “Is a cup of hot tea okay for you? Or milk? Sorry, I have no coffee left.” Kongpob asked from his kitchenette as he preparing to brew.
“Anything would do. All these delays really got me.” Arthit replied from the bathroom. Upon listening to the voice, Kongpob just gave an ear-splitting smile. His Sun was indeed here, in his apartment, within his arm reach. He wasn't dreaming.
-----
China, thirty-six hours prior.
It was just 4pm in the afternoon but the outside was so gloomy it looked liked just few seconds away to dusk. Dark clouds were looming in the sky; what was once light breeze slowly had picked up pace and turned into strong breeze that seemed to be able to morph into high wind at any given time.
Kongpob slumped on a desk in a corner of the student lounges in his faculty. Splayed-open books surrounded him, multiple tabs of journals opened in his browser. A cup of coffee that once piping hot and now had lost it warmth sat next to his folded eyeglasses. His tired eyes wandered into the gloomy weather outside through the window in front of him.
Kongpob was homesick. Sorry, double cross that one; Kongpob was Arthit-sick. He was on the maximum level of Arthit-deprivation that all he wanted to do right now was to book a flight and fly back home, consequences be damned. He would totally and immediately do that if only his conscience didn’t stop him and he didn’t remember Arthit’s current state of affairs.
No, they were still in good terms, super good terms even, as their parents finally knew their relationship and gave them the green light. It was just that currently Arthit was taking part in his company’s Training and Development Program, which was important for the advancement of his career, for a whole month. He had given him heads up that their communication would be highly affected, as he wouldn’t be able to freely contact him anytime he wanted to and that probably he would only had time in the dead of the night.
Of course Kongpob knew the nature of the program – he had grown up seeing his father assessed and developed similar ones. It usually would be packed with studies, discussions, presentations, assignments, and projects that he knew the participants would even barely had time for themselves. In stricter companies, they even wouldn’t be granted access to mobile phone during the day.
During their late night chats and video calls this past four weeks, Kongpob could see the exhaustion is his fiancé’s face although Arthit insisted that he was just fine. Sometimes he was even left hanging as Arthit fell asleep during their calls. Even on the weekend, if Arthit didn’t sleep like a log, he would be still preoccupied with his assignments.
And as if the lack of proper emotional-charging wasn’t enough to turn him almost crazy, The Universe decided to play with him even further. A week ago he had just had a heated discussion with his thesis supervisor on the chapter three of his thesis – basically the core of his work, and the result was practically he had to rewrite the whole chapter that he had whipped for the past month within a span of two weeks. He had asked for extra time but his supervisor simply said that he believed Kongpob could do within the time frame he had set. He was left with no room for objection.
Now, halfway through into his task, his head felt like it was spinning one hundred and twenty miles an hour that he almost felt the gears in his brain slowly burned up, melted down, and released heavy smoke seeping through his ears and pooling on the top of his head like a mini storm cloud with roaring lightning in it.
Kongpob knew he was on the edge, on his lowest low, and he missed his solace so, so bad. Almost on autopilot he grabbed his phone and opened the video call app with one name revolving in his head. However, his hand only hovered on it, unable to tap the name on his favorite list.
Yes, Kongpob’s levelheadedness would always win.
He wouldn’t deny that he missed his phi and their normal communication so much, that sometimes he really wanted just to be selfish and to take up all of Arthit’s time just for himself. However, he fully understood that life indeed happened, where currently they had two separate battles that they needed to overcome the best they could, with minimum support from their other half.
So Kongpob tried his best to bear with it until Arthit’s one-month hell had done, which was in the next two days. Just two more days and he could get his solace back. He refrained himself from calling Arthit no matter how hard he missed him or how badly he needed to see his fiancé.
He mentally patted his own back, asked himself to hang on for a little while. He had survived the last four weeks unscathed, albeit the last seven days were a real hell for him, he wouldn’t let the last two days to ruin everything.
Kongpob closed the call app and moved to Spotify instead to play a song that he had played on the loop since a week ago when he felt at the deepest point of missing someone. Slowly a soft tune came out from his wireless earphone and Kongpob hummed into it.
"Wish I could be there with you
I'm feeling lost without you
In this empty bed where I'm all alone
I've been such a mess
Need a one way ticket
Anywhere you are is where I want to go
You are my address..."
He scrolled through his chat with Arthit, smiled fondly at any arguments and comments and reprimands and whines and innuendos and memes and selfies they had shared. Wrong move, so it seemed, because instead of helping him to alleviate his mood and probably to ease his longing, it only made him miss Arthit even more.
Carried by the moment, he thought to send short message and the song to Arthit some time later, just to let him know how he had felt in the past four weeks with restricted contact. He was typing the draft when he noticed that the weather outside was getting murkier. Learning from his previous experience, he hurriedly packed his stuff and went back home before he got stuck in the lounge. It was a right move, because once he arrived at the lobby of his apartment building, the torrential downpour started.
Bangkok, the same day. 17.56 pm.
It was the last day of the Training and Development Program and Arthit was even busier than ever. In the morning, he was scheduled to present his final project in front of the Board of Examiners and it took him a whole two hours. After the short lunch, he proceeded to do some written exams. Afterward, he still needed to fill hundred sheets of the program’s administrative evaluation. By the time he finished them all, it was almost dinner. Of course he too had to attend the closing ceremony-cum-dinner, but he made excuse to refresh himself first.
It was almost 6pm when Arthit returned to his room, all weary and exhausted, when he finally could check the phone he put in his drawer since he left for breakfast. Once the airplane mode was turned off, it vibrated incessantly as messages after messages and notifications after notifications inundated him like a broken dam. Amidst the sea of messages and notifications, one message caught his attention.
Arthit tapped the message immediately. It was just a Spotify link to a song and a short note, sent sometimes around 3.30pm in the afternoon. Upon reading the message, his fatigue just disappeared. He Googled something, packed his stuff, excused himself to the committee (urgent family matter, he said), and flew back to Bangkok right away, completely skipped the closing dinner. To hell with the rest of the event and the messages, he would deal with them later on when everything was settled.
It was almost midnight when he finally arrived at his own apartment. He made a mental note to go to Ocean Electric first thing first in the morning to meet Khun Danai and Khun Durian, while he hurriedly packed his stuff and forced himself to sleep. The next day would be another long day, so he needed to take a proper rest.
-----
Kongpob had just finished making a cup of tea latte when Arthit stepped out from the bathroom in Kongpob’s pajamas. Face flushed, hair damp, skin looked smooth and plump. Kongpob really held into the last bit of his wit trying not to jump into Arthit right there and then.
“I… I thought you were still busy with your program, Phi?” Kongpob desperately tried to distract himself as he gave Arthit the hot drink and proceeded to grab a small towel from his drawer. He then motioned Arthit to sit down on the edge of his bed, to which Arthit immediately complied after taking a few sips of the tea and putting it back on the counter.
Kongpob stood up in front of Arthit, his body was sandwiched between Arthit’s legs that were splayed to give him better access to his head. Soon he felt a pair of hands snaked on his waist. He just smiled and slowly began massaging Arthit’s scalp. “It was done yesterday. All was well.” Arthit mumbled as he put his face on the abs of the younger and inhaled the scent he missed so bad.
“Congratulations, Phi. I knew you would be able to manage it wonderfully,” Kongpob replied. “I wish I could be there, I might want to take you out for a dinner to celebrate.” He continued. Arthit just wiggled his head as a reply.
“I really missed you drying my hair this way, Kong” He muttered as he enjoyed the younger massaged his scalp and manually dried his damp hair. His eyes closed as if he wanted to savor every seconds he had; his hands were still on Kongpob’s waist. “This morning I wrapped everything up, confirmed my three weeks leave that I…”
“Sorry, you took three weeks leave immediately after the program?” Kongpob intercepted as he couldn’t believe his ears. Arthit chuckled.
“I admitted that I pulled few strings here and there, but in my defense, I hadn’t taken any single day of the offered paid leave during my 5 years working there.” Arthit pouted. “Besides, I had applied for the leave for next month. I simply just asked them to reschedule it.” He continued. “I took the 17:45 pm flight from Suvarnabhumi. It was supposed to land around 11pm the same day, but the typhoon had it all delayed. And here I am now at this wee hour.” Arthit continued.
“And you took all that trouble just for a head massage?” Kongpob teased. He twirled Arthit’s now-dry hair. One of his hands caressed the older’s back, conveniently brought Arthit into his hug once again, which the older didn’t bother to resist. Instead, he tightened his embrace and snuggled even closer. Casually he replied, “No, I came because of your latest message.”
He could feel that Kongpob was surprised, so Arthit slowly lift his head and he met with frown on Kongpob’s eyebrows. He seemed to be in deep thought.
Yes, Kongpob was puzzled. As long as he remembered, he didn’t send Arthit anything recently. Unable to find the answer, he asked back, “What message, Phi?”
Arthit frowned. It didn't sound like Kongpob to forget anything as intriguing as that, so Arthit reached for his phone and gave it to his fiancé. “Care to explain?” he asked.
Kongpob took a look at the message and immediately all of his blood ran away from his face. Well, anyone receiving that kind of message with red-flag words scattered around would definitely drop anything and rush to the sender without further thinking. He was stunned and all he could do now was to open and closed his mouth like a gold fish as words failed him.
“Phi, I didn't mean it that way. It wasn’t that bad, actually. I just…” Kongpob slumped to the bed next to Arthit, hands messaging his own temple; his head hung low. Arthit bit back his smile and instead pulled him into side embrace and brought his head to rest on his shoulders.
“Shh, I know. I know. I felt that too, sometimes. I am not good with words and I can’t converse what I want well, but I do feel the same way with you multiple times. But, I guess that is a part of growing up in a relationship? We respect each other spaces and hold on for a little while, right?”
Kongpob sighed deeply. Still laid his head on the older’s shoulder, he then proceeded to tell him The Tale of The Killer Supervisor, His Third Chapter, and The Two Weeks Deadline (sadly, the tale didn’t involve a magical wardrobe or a magical wall in a train station). Arthit listened attentively; he tried giving comfort by stroking his lover’s arm once in a while.
“I was feeling blue that day, and the song I listened to even made me wanted to go to you at once, so I thought I’d like to send you a note. It wasn’t completely done though. When I was typing the message, I noticed that the weather was getting hostile so I hurriedly packed my stuff and went back home. Probably I hit the sent button accidentally when I was still packing my stuff.” Kongpob reasoned. “When I was home, I was preoccupied with my work that I totally forgot to take a second look at it.” He continued.
“That explained a lot, then.” Arthit replied. “I was so shocked reading it, I thought you might need professional help or what.” Arthit continued. “That’s why I hurriedly come here.”
“Sorry for the bother, Phi. But yeah, I DO THINK I need help from professional,” Kongpob replied; there was mischief in his tone which Arthit didn't fail to notice. The tone was promptly followed by a hand traveling to the hem of Arthit’s pajamas, tried to snake underneath. But being together for years had made Arthit well prepared. He grabbed Kongpob’s hand and shook his head firmly.
“Not now, Kong. Let me have a proper sleep, please?” he said. Kongpob whined and gave out his puppy eyes, tried his best to soften him out. But no, Arthit had grown stronger day by day. Kongpob needed a better weapon than that, and before Kongpob could whip another trick, Arthit decided to perform his counter attack.
“You know, Kong… um…,” Arthit paused for a while, thinking about the most proper way to deliver his ideas. Kongpob looked at him intently and it made the lump in his throat grew even bigger. Arthit shook his head and cleared his throat in an attempt to articulate his mind better. He then took a deep breath and said, "Kong, if you could complete your chapter three within the time frame given, I’ll give you a reward.”
There, the cat was out of the bag. And as Arthit subconsciously predicted, he could sense a change of mood in Kongpob. And a stronger mischief aura. Arthit felt his breath hitched as his eyes met Kongpob's that now flickered naughtily, and that instant Arthit knew he regretted his last statement. “What kind of reward, Phi? Be specific, please. I might take it the wrong way, you know.” Kongpob asked, teasingly.
See? The lion was now on the loose, preying on his Sun. Arthit gulped. He knew there was no way available to take back his words. Also deep down he knew he wanted it too. So he braced himself up and replied, “Anything you want. Literally.”
“Oh.” Kongpob replied. “So, anything?” he asked.
“Anything.”
“Anything?” Kongpob asked again.
“Anything,” Arthit parroted, “And, umh… any kinks.” He said steadfastly, albeit his cheeks flamed immediately at his own word. He turned his head away from his junior, and his eyes traveled anywhere but to him.
Kongpob eyes turned into saucers. He smirked. He was about to say something when Arthit’s forefinger landed on his lips.
“But before you submit the chapter, no making out session, in any forms. I take no but and no complain. You break it, I’ll take back my rewards.”
“Phiiiiii…” Kongpob whined at the new additional condition. “Why are you so cruel?” He massaged his temple. For heaven’s sake, Kongpob knew he wouldn’t be able to keep himself in his pants if they were to live under the same roof for the next few days until he submit his draft. No, let alone few days, Kongpob knew it well he wouldn’t be able to hold it for the next few hours, or minutes even?
Arthit smiled. He knew Kongpob was trying hard not to pounce on him the moment he arrived. Hell, he was the same too. Everything about Kongpob at the moment was so enticing. So alluring. So inviting. He indeed knew very well he had to find another room to stay in order to keep his word. But it would be tomorrow’s task. Now, he needed to rest.
“We’ll think about the best way tomorrow, err, afternoon I mean. Now sleep with me.” Arthit distracted himself. “Sleep, we have to literally sleep. Your eye bags are awful, and my body is aching due to the flight too.” He continued as he removed the towel from Kongpob shoulder, put it on the hanger in front of the wardrobe, and dimmed the light on the nightstand. Kongpob finally gave in.
He crawled on the bed and laid himself on the right side of the bed just like what he always did. Kongpob soon followed suit, laid himself next to him. Soon they were on their favourite sleeping position: Arthit snuggled himself on Kongpob’s chest while casually hugging him, and Kongpob – letting one of his hands as a pillow, draped his other hand on the waist of his senior, brought them into an embrace.
“Good morning, Kongpob.”
“Good morning, Phi Arthit.” Kongpob replied, kissing the crown of Arthit’s head. His mind was still running, but it went slower now and he could process things better. His body felt more relaxed as it should be. Suddenly he felt that half of the burden he shouldered had vanished into thin air. Suddenly there was a surge of warm feeling telling him that everything would be fine. Suddenly all of his gloom and doom he felt worsening since last week became far and irrelevant. It was truly a wonder how the sole presence of his beloved had enough power to lift the weight and chase the clouds away from his mind easily.
And soon Arthit’s soft snore had lulled Kongpob into slumber too; for the first time in a week he could finally sleep peacefully.
--- end ---