Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

His eyes are closed, his eyebrows slightly drawn together in concentration, and his body leaning slowly forward, the very picture of someone in deep focus, listening intently. His delicate fingers tap on the keys in front of him to replay those few seconds over and over again as he tweaks the tiny barely discernible details. Move that track's volume up one notch, adjust the reverb, tweak the gain.

He has spent hours in this hyper focused state, lost to his perfectionist tendencies. He clicks the key to playback that section again to check the adjustments he’s made. But the sound he hears isn’t the track he’s been working on but the tiny buzz of his phone on the table behind. Sighing in frustration he taps the pause button and spins his chair around and swipes the offending phone off the table.

P’May (4:46 p.m.): Don’t forget you have a meeting in an hour.
P’May (4:47 p.m.): Please don’t forget to eat something beforehand this time. I know you’re in your genius music maker mode, but you have to be alive to make music.

Sound wants to roll his eyes and type out a snarky comment but his stomach rumbles, reminding him that he actually hasn’t had anything to eat all day. Glancing over at the open editing program, he sighs in resignation. He reluctantly saves the file and shuts down the program before gathering his stuff and heading out of his studio. While walking down the hall he sends a quick response to his manager.

Sound (4:51 p.m.): I’m leaving the studio now and I’ll get something to eat at the convenience store before I go to the office.

May looks at the message from her artist and shakes her head with a small smile. Would it kill the stubborn man to thank her for once? They’d been manager and artist for 4 years now and Sound had never shown her any sign of affection. Even still she had a soft spot for the grumpy man. She could see under all that tough bravado was someone who needed to be taken care of and loved.

As is his manager she did the best she could for him. Sometimes she really felt like his mom, making sure he remembered to eat and drink water and actually get sleep whenever he would get in these obsessive perfectionist work modes. She worried about him a lot beyond his bad self-care though. She worried about his lack of friends. With her other artists she had to be aware of their friendships and when they would go out, always on the watch for scandals. With Sound though she wished she had that problem.

All he ever did was work. It was like he was filling up a void inside him with work. She desperately wished he would make friends. Every time he got cast on a new show or he had a new brand appearance with another celebrity she hoped that he might strike up a friendship with them and things might improve. However, four years have made her hopes seem quite hopeless.

“Phi~ Is this the paperwork we need for the meeting?” A younger member of her staff broke May from her thoughts.

“Ah yes, that one and let’s add these too” She walked with the staff over to the computer and began sorting through documents to help set up for their upcoming meeting, setting aside her usual worries about Sound for now.

Sound wandered up and down the aisles of the convenience store, his eyes scanning the shelves. He wasn’t really sure what he wanted to eat, he just knew he was hungry. His eyes lingered a little longer on a bag with a label advertising healthy chips with a little cartoon of a smiling pumpkin dancing underneath the brand name. He felt a pang in his chest, the little twinge he still feels every time he sees anything pumpkin related.

Irritated, he tore his gaze away and quickly left the snack aisle. He didn’t care anymore about what he ate so he just randomly grabbed a sandwich out of the fridge without checking its label and a bottle of water and walked over to the counter to pay. He saw the cashier's eyes widen slightly upon noticing him so he did his best to hide his irritation under his patented ‘Sound the performer’ mask and greeted them politely. They greeted him in turn, clearly trying to feign being calm. Afterwards, he’s sure they’d write a long post about meeting him today so he took extra care to be polite, despite his internal grumpiness.

Originally he had planned to sit at one of the tables at the convenience store to eat, but now that didn’t seem like the best idea. So he took his sandwich and his water bottle and walked over to his company office building and headed to the meeting room early. In the elevator he did his best to shut his brain back down and stop the flow of thoughts that were trying to break through his barriers. He fucking hates pumpkins. Stupid vegetable always has this effect on him. He kicks the wall of the elevator lightly, not wanting to cause any disturbance but still feeling the need to vent somehow.

By the time the doors open again, he has composed himself and re-buried his emotions. He’s back to the cool guy Sound, not the one who wants to cry when he sees a stupid orange squash. He struts down the halls of his company with a haughty air and walks straight into the meeting room, plopping himself down into a chair. He pulls his phone out of his back pocket and sends a quick text to P’May before looking at his sandwich and grimacing.

Sound (5:20 p.m.): here

May looks down at her phone and sighs. Well at least he’s not late. “Sound’s here. I’m going to go check and make sure he doesn’t need anything. Are you ok to finish printing these?” She asks, and the younger staff member nods happily while giving a thumbs up.

May heads down the hall towards the meeting room where she assumes her artist will be. Opening the door to the room she finds him sitting at the table and staring down at a sandwich.
As soon as the door opens Sound looks up at May, his face clearly showing displeasure.
“Is something wrong with your sandwich?” May asks in confusion, trying to read his expression.

“It’s pumpkin.”

“Oh”

May understood. Well she didn't but she did. Sound refused to explain it to her but in the 4 years that they’d worked together he had shown a strong aversion to everything pumpkin. Pumpkin flavor, pumpkin scent, pumpkin images, you name it. If it was pumpkin you can bet Sound hated it.

“Why did you buy it?”

“I wasn’t paying attention. And who makes a pumpkin sandwich anyways?” he shoved the offending sandwich away from him and sat back in his chair, clearly refusing to eat it.

“Sound, you need to eat something…” May started to coax.

“You know better than to try to get me to eat that” Sound said looking at her stubbornly, and she did. So she sighed and dialed a number on her phone.

“Hi, yes, I’m sorry to ask but can you please pick up a sandwich from the store on your way up? Yeah it’s for Sound. Yeah, thanks” Hanging up the phone she looked at him with slight exasperation “ Jane is coming back from another meeting, she’ll stop by the convenience store on the way up and bring you something. Just wait a few minutes.”

Sound nodded and muttered a “thank you”, knowing he was being difficult.

May just shook her head at her kid and removed the offending sandwich from the table. “I’m gonna finish getting things ready for the meeting. If you need anything else let me or the staff know ok?” Sound nodded gratefully and May left the room again, taking the sandwich with her. As she walked back down the hall she looked at the poor discarded sandwich and wondered, for the umpteenth time, what caused Sound’s aversion to pumpkins.

“The tracks will be done soon.” Sound confirmed, ignoring the doubtful glances the team members shared across the table. He’s fully aware of how they all viewed his perfectionist ways, but he refused to put out an album that had even one note, one millisecond that wasn’t tuned to perfection.

“Ok, then let’s look at some of the design concepts” May said, motioning for someone to bring up the presentations on the big screen at the end of the table.

The team shared their opinions as they scrolled through each of the prospective design concepts, but Sound remained silent through the whole thing, his tell-tale eyebrows broadcasting his growing displeasure. As they reached the end of the final concept the team all turned away from the screen and back to the group.

“I liked concept 4” Jane said matter-of-factly, tapping her pen on the desk as she spoke. “The black and white photos match the overall vibe of the songs and Sound looks great in suits.”

The other members of the team nodded agreement, generally all sharing the same opinion. May turned her attention to Sound, who was still silent. “What do you think, Sound?”

“None of them are right.” He says simply, knowing he’s being difficult, but this album means too much. After four years, he’s finally decided to write about some things that are very personal to him. Most of the staff didn’t know that the songs were his own personal story, they didn’t realize how much this meant to him, but May could read him better. She’d known him longer. She knew that despite his bravado and stubbornness, he was feeling very vulnerable about this particular album.

“Ok, then let’s keep thinking” She said, with a warning look to her team. She knew her words would frustrate them. They’d been working on these concepts for a month now, and they’d all been rejected, so now they had to start over, of course they’d be frustrated. Since the meeting had reached a point where they couldn’t move forward anymore she decided to bring it to a close. “Let’s come back again in two weeks for another discussion?”

Her staff all agreed reluctantly, gathering their stuff and leaving the room. As they are trickling out of the room May gets an email notification. The art gallery that she likes has just announced a new exhibition that opens this weekend. Looking down at the email advertisement an idea pops into her head.

“Sound?”

“Mm?” Sound had his head buried in his notebook, clearly making adjustments to lyrics. Always the workaholic.

“What about paintings instead of pictures?”

Curious, Sound looks up from the notebook.” What do you mean?”

“Well, you thought none of the concepts felt right. So, maybe something completely different. Instead of photos of you like the previous albums, what if we used paintings?”

Sound was intrigued by the idea so he got up to look at the phone that May was holding out to him.

“This gallery I really like is opening a new exhibition this weekend. Why don’t you go check it out and see if anything inspires you?”

Sound looked at the email with tentative interest. He’d never been to an art gallery before. He had to admit, the painting idea did seem interesting.

“Doesn’t hurt to try” He said, shrugging and handing the phone back.

“So you’ll go?” May asks, a bit surprised, she’s not used to him willingly going anywhere that wasn’t work or his home.

“Sure.”

“I’ll pick you up at 1pm on Saturday!” She smiled at him excitedly.

Sound grimaced a bit at her enthusiasm but decided to just go through with the whole thing since he’d already agreed. He nodded that he agreed to the plan, gathered his things and left the meeting room simply saying “goodbye phi” on his way out.

May was unfazed by his slightly rude departure, it was not at all uncommon for him to leave a conversation that way. Besides, she was too happy that her wayward son was finally going to go out and do something besides work on a Saturday afternoon! Even if it was with her, a married woman who was more like his mother, and he only agreed because it sort of connected to work. Still she saw it as a win. She happily opened the link in the email and reserved a parking space at the gallery for Saturday.

Peem grabs the mail from the gallery's delivery box on his way in. As he walks he peeks at the contents in his hand, noting hand-written letters addressed to both him and Q amongst flyers, bills, and bank statements. When he gets to the small back office he quickly divides the papers in his hands between his own desk and Q’s. Peem makes himself a cup of coffee and then sits down to open his mail.

He’s just finished reading the last piece of mail when his best friend Q walks into the room rubbing the back of his head and yawning.

“Morning” Q says, heading towards the coffee machine.

“We’ve been invited to another gala that I’m sure you’ll ignore” Peem says waving the letter in his hand.

Q grunts in response. They both know that Q is definitely not attending any galas. Peem is honestly surprised that these organizations still tried to invite the famous painter. In all of the years that Q had been invited to these events he had never once appeared at any of them.

Q is a very sought after genius artist who has made a big name for himself in the industry. So of course he is often invited to many big events, but he turns them all down because he doesn’t really care about the fame part of it all. He just wants to create art and have people admire it. So, he has garnered a reputation for being a bit mysterious and arrogant.

Peem was a well-known and respected artist in his own right. So he got his fair share of invites as well. Unlike Q he sometimes would attend, if he felt like it, and if his husband was available to come dressed in a suit. If he was being honest, he mostly liked to go to big fancy events because it was an excuse to see his hot husband dressed up in a fancy suit. Smiling, Peem sent a message to his husband.

Peem (8:09 a.m.): gala event next Saturday?

Phum (8:10 a.m.): black suits or blue?

Peem laughs. His husband knows him too well. Q notices his friend being lovey-dovey on his phone, rolls his eyes, and throws a towel from the coffee counter at him.

“Hey!” Peem protests, but he’s laughing still.

“I’m going to check that everything is ready for today’s exhibition” Q said, turning to leave their office, coffee in hand.

“Wait, I’ll come with” Peem stands up, shoving his phone in his pocket, grabs his coffee off the table and joins his friend as he heads out the door.

They spend the next hour double checking all of the preparations for the exhibition are in order. When they’re both satisfied that everything is set how it should be, Peem checks his watch.

“It’s almost time to open.”

Q nods, pats his friends shoulder, and walks out of the public gallery spaces and into their private spaces in the back of the building. Peem watches him walk away with a knowing laugh, he’s used to the drill by now. Despite being one of the two artists celebrated at the gallery, Q will not be appearing today, he doesn’t want the attention. This leaves Peem to do all the mingling and socializing, at that thought he heads off to get another cup of coffee.

Q walks into his favorite place, his workshop. The ever-present scents of paint and turpentine mix with the cacophony of natural scents that spill in from the big windows to the garden at the back. Q grabs his painting apron off the back of the chair where he’d carelessly thrown it when he’d last left the room and ties it around his waist while walking towards the canvases piled in the corner.

There were several canvases that he had recently finished stretching and attaching to frames in preparation for painting, all in varying sizes. He picked up a small rectangular one in his left hand and a slightly larger square one in his right hand. He held the two up before him for a moment, contemplating which canvas was calling to him. After a moment of consideration he set down the square one and brought the rectangular canvas over to his easel and clamped it into place.

He then set about getting the paints that he wanted to use ready. He hovered over the different types of paint. Did he want to use acrylic? Maybe use a thickening medium and play with textures? Or oils? As his fingers tapped on the small tubes of paint in front of him he found his eyes drawn to a tube of yellow ochre oil paint. Following the instinct he grabbed the tube as well as some other tubes of oil paints and brought them over and set them on the small work table next to his easel.

He grabbed his bucket of oil brushes, set it next to the paints, and filled up a bucket of water to set beside it. He grabbed a work towel and threw it over his shoulder so he could use it comfortably as needed. He grabbed a bottle of water from the small fridge he has in the corner and placed it on the work table beside the paint supplies. Surveying his preparations he nodded in satisfaction. It’s time to get started. So he took a hair-tie from the small dish that he kept them in and tied back his bangs so they’d stay out of his eyes while he worked.

Finally, he picked up the small remote for his stereo and turned on some music. He spent only a few minutes choosing today. Somedays, it would take him a long time of careful consideration to pick the perfect music to listen to while he worked. He found that the tone of the music he listened to would affect the tone of his paintings as well, so he was very picky with what he chose most of the time.

Today, as soon as he turned the stereo on, his Tattoo Colour playlist started playing. With a nod of satisfaction, he set down the remote, sat on his stool, and began painting a base layer of titanium white onto the canvas.

Sound admired the clean white building as he got out of the passenger seat of P’May’s car. The crisp white of the paint made a pretty contrast against the greens of the trees planted around the building. He could feel that whoever was the architect of the building had wonderful taste.

A security guard came over to check their parking spot reservation, which May confirmed, showing him the email on her phone. The guard smiled at them warmly and gestured for them to follow him to the entrance of the building. Sound gave a small nod to the older man and followed quietly, still admiring the architecture.

Once they reached the front door the security guard excused himself and returned to his post outside. Sound and May continued into the pleasantly air-conditioned interior where they were met with a small front desk. Once again May was asked to show a reservation confirmation, which she pulled up on her phone.

The friendly trans woman behind the counter handed them a pamphlet about the exhibition, leaning forward conspiratorially and whispering “this one’s my nephew~” while pointing at the name of one of the two featured artists. “He co-owns this gallery with his friend.” She continues proudly.

“Oh wow, you’re Khun Peem’s Aunt? I’m a big fan of his!” P’May gushes excitedly. The two older women begin to chat happily together. Sound tunes out their conversation after a little while, his eyes lazily perusing the pamphlet in front of him. While waiting for May to finish her gossip he reads the two artists’ biography sections.

A pretty standard bio, Sound thought to himself, nothing exciting. This Peem guy sounds like he would have a lot of friends. It made Sound think of someone he once thought of as a close friend, someone who used to be the center of his own gang of friends. Sound shook off that train of thought before it put him in a funky mental headspace and moved his eyes down to the second bio.

Sound snorted. This guy just copied the other guy didn’t he? Just like a student who didn’t want to do his homework so he took his friend’s.

That’s it? Sound thought confused. The first artist had mentioned friends and family, and through a few short sentences painted a clear picture of being a friendly well-liked guy. This second guy? Sound smiled bitterly, so you’re a loner too huh? He thought to himself and felt like he’d found a kindred spirit in this mysterious painter.

“...Sound?” May said awkwardly trying to get his attention.

“Huh?” Sound hadn’t realized that May was talking to him, he was too busy staring at the pamphlet and trying to picture what this Q guy was like.

“Khun Pui…”

“Khun? No~ Call me Jie~~”

“Ah! Jie Pui has offered to make us coffee, would you like one? A latte?” May asked knowing Sound preferred lattes.

Sound agreed that a latte would be good, then asked where the bathrooms were. Pui instructed him where he could find them before disappearing through a door to make their coffees.

“I’ll wait for you here~” May said cheerily, plopping into a seat in the reception area.

Sound nodded and walked through the archway in the direction that Pui had pointed.

As he was washing his hands, he heard someone else enter the bathroom so he looked up into the mirror to check.

Sound’s heart stopped. His whole body felt heavy and cold. He felt the panic resonating from his core out to every pore, every hair, every inch of his body. He was frozen and couldn’t move in panic for a moment. Then all at once his heart started working again, but too fast, as if to make up for the seconds that it had stopped. His heart was erratic and his whole body felt like it was being electrocuted.

The other man must have noticed the sharp intake of breath he took because he gave him a strange look. It was that look, that look that held no recognition, that made it clear to Sound that this man was not Win. Just a man who looked scarily similar. Sound forced his gaze away from Win’s doppelganger and splashed his face with water, desperately trying to calm his frazzled nerves. His hands were shaking and he was having trouble taking in full breaths.

Sound was so focused on getting his panicked body settled that he didn’t even notice when the other man came and stood next to him.

“Here” he heard the voice say beside him, a towel being offered in his peripheral vision. He didn’t sound rude or anything but he also didn’t sound particularly compassionate.

Sound took the towel, trying desperately to keep the shakes from his hand, and muttered his thanks. He didn’t know who this person was but he certainly didn’t need some random stranger seeing him have a panic attack. Especially not one who looked like Win. As Sound buried his face in the towel, wiping his face dry, he heard the man beside him wash and dry his own hands.

When Sound finally looked up from the towel he found himself alone in the bathroom. What the fuck? Did the guy just leave him here? Now he didn’t even get the chance to make up an excuse? This guy was probably imagining that he was some weirdo. Sound’s panic was quickly replaced by annoyance. Why did Sound always have to meet irritating but attractive boys with thick triangular eyebrows and piercing eyes in bathrooms? What kind of dumb curse was this, he thought to himself, frustrated, as he threw the towel into the laundry basket under the sink.

He fixed up his appearance in the mirror, noting the annoyed crease between his eyebrows. Not wanting to deal with questions from P’May he turned on his actor mask, hiding away any true thoughts or feelings behind a well practiced face of indifference. Satisfied that he looked normal again, he walked out of the bathroom and back to where P’May was waiting for him along with P’Pui and their coffees.

“When you’re done with your coffees, you can leave your dishes on the counter here and then head into the gallery at your leisure~ I need to go prepare some things in the back.” P’Pui said, excusing herself politely.

A few minutes later Sound and May walked down the hall into the main gallery room. It was split into two distinct exhibitions for the two artists. On the left were paintings of various water scenes with different focal points. Without a word May lead them in that direction first. Sound smirked, she had said she was bringing him here for inspiration but it’s clear she also just wanted to see the work of the artist she liked. So he hung back a little and let her eagerly walk up to Peem’s first piece.

He stood back and took in each piece with respect. He may not be an artist in the same way but as a musician and song-writer he felt like he understood how much of an artist's soul must go into each piece. So he spent a long time in front of each painting, taking it in, trying to feel the painter’s message.

The more paintings he saw on this side of the gallery the more sure he felt that this artist was someone who was surrounded with love. Each painting was filled with the joy of friends, family, and special people. They each held a clear feeling of love and being loved. It made Sound ache. It was like looking at what could have been, what he used to have and lost.

Sound was lost in his melancholy, taking in a painting of the ocean that had 5 old beat up backpacks in the foreground. The kind of bags that were used by high school students. There was something about the backpacks, they should look discarded and lonely, all old and left on the beach like that. But the feeling was warm, like the 5 owners of the backpacks were just out of frame, never far from each other. The age and wearing on the backpacks seemed to represent not a sadness but a strength, as if these 5 had been through long difficult times together but hadn’t fallen apart.

Sound moved closer to check the name of the painting, “We Are”, and stepped back puzzled. Who are these five backpacks, he wondered.

“Do you like it?” The voice startled Sound, he hadn’t noticed the other man who had joined him in looking at the painting.

“it reminds me of …something…” Sound thought of Niyomsil high school, of Chinzhilla, and his voice wandered off, not wanting to continue the thought. “I wonder who the backpacks represent.” He said instead.

“Good. Most people don’t realize that the backpacks represent people.” The man said, impressed, “They're my best friends, one backpack for each of the four of them and one for me.” He pointed at the bag in the middle when he said that “We’ve been together since high school.” The man said as a simple explanation.

Sound looked over at the man, really taking in his appearance. He was tall, maybe a centimeter or two taller than Sound himself. He had a handsome face and mischievous cat-like eyes. There was something instantly likable about the man. He wasn’t exactly as Sound was picturing him, not quite the charismatic leader type that Gun was, but still, Sound could imagine this man also being surrounded by love and loyal friends.

“Khun Peeranat, it’s nice to meet you. I’m Sound.”

Peem chuckled. “You’re very observant indeed and I know who you are, Sound, don’t underestimate your own fame. Please, just call me Peem.”

Sound gave a small smile in return, feeling oddly comfortable with this man he’d just met. “Your paintings are beautiful. Also this gallery,” Sound gestured to the building around them, “I was admiring the architecture earlier.”

“I will pass your compliments on to my brother-in-law, he was our architect” Peem smiled fondly. Sound once again felt an ache deep inside, this man’s joy and love were so palpable it made Sound’s loneliness feel all the more deep and dark. Taking care to not let his actor mask slip, Sound continued the polite conversation, while fighting the continuous pangs of longing and emptiness that grew the longer he spoke to Peem.

“Well, I’ve probably taken enough of your time, you haven’t seen Q’s side yet have you?” Peem said after a while.

Sound glanced over at the other side of the gallery and the paintings there, he had to admit he was intrigued.

“I haven’t, but first there’s someone who would be very upset with me if I didn’t introduce you.” Sound gestured for Peem to follow him and Sound weaved through the gallery searching for his manager who had gone in amongst the small divider walls, admiring the paintings.

“P’May,” he called out when he caught sight of her “I have someone for you to meet…” As he spoke, Peem stepped out from behind him and P’May caught sight of the artist she was a big fan of. Sound watched in amusement as she grew flustered over his sudden appearance, turning into a giddy school girl despite her age.

After introducing the two he excused himself and wandered off to the other side of the exhibit. The paintings on this side of the exhibit were completely different. They were far more complex. Sound stood quietly in front of the first painting, taking it in and thinking about how it made him feel.

He felt so much more kinship on this side of the room. If Peem’s paintings were like opening his old wounds, reminding him of what he lost, Q’s paintings felt safe. They weren’t overflowing with love and passion and emotions. They were more somber, deeper, darker. These were the paintings of someone who, like Sound, had an empty space in their heart. Sound doesn’t know what it was about the paintings that made him so sure about that, but he just instinctively knew it to be true.

However, none of the paintings outright seemed to represent this thought, it was more like an underlying ache, a constant presence that was there in all of his work. Sound slowly walked from painting to painting, searching for that feeling and finding it there in each one. With each painting he felt more and more sure that this painter could understand him, understand his songs. Sound was taking in the paintings with a critical eye, no longer observing them as a casual gallery attendant, but now with the mind of an artist. He had decided that he wanted to work with this Q Nirandon. He wanted to use his paintings for his album.

He was joined a few minutes later by Peem and P’May “Quite different from mine, huh? He’s always been a bit more…complex than me.” Peem said with a laugh.

“Can I meet him?” Sound said, and May instantly recognized the look in his eyes. That hungry workaholic look. She couldn’t decide if that made her excited or scared.

“Uh…” Peem looked a bit awkward, clearly trying to think of a diplomatic way to refuse. May quickly stepped in on behalf of her charge.

“Sound is actually in search of an artist to collaborate with for his upcoming album, if I’m assuming correctly, he would like to speak with Khun Nirandon about a business opportunity” she glanced at Sound, who nodded in confirmation.

Peem considered her words for a moment then asked them to wait for a moment. “If he’s painting, no one can bother him, not even me. If he’s finished for the day though…and he’s not sleeping…he might be willing to meet with you.” Peem made sure to lower their expectations again before leaving, “but he is stubborn and no one can control him and I won’t force him. So if he says no, I’m sorry but there’s nothing I can do about it.”

May said that they understood and Peem walked towards the offices and studio spaces in the back of the building. May removed her hand from Sound’s shoulder where she had put it to stop him from protesting when Peem had said that last part. Between Peem’s Q and her Sound she really wondered who was dealing with the more stubborn artist.

“If he says no, we’ll just find someone else.” May said reassuringly to Sound, who just made a “hmph” noise in response.

A few minutes later Peem came back smiling. “Good news! He actually just finished painting and he’s in a pretty good mood so he agreed to meet. I’ll lead you to our meeting room now.”

Sound and May followed Peem through the ‘staff only’ doors and into a small but airy meeting room. Once again, Sound admired the architecture of the building, each room felt like it had a fresh airy breeze blowing through it and seemed naturally lit, even this interior room without any windows.

Sound was listening to May and Peem chat pleasantly about art when the door opened and the Win doppelganger walked into the room. Sound was less shocked this time, having already seen him once before, but his body still reacted against his will. His eyes grew bigger and his pulse became erratic. Annoyed at his body's ridiculous reaction to someone that wasn’t even Win, just looked like him, Sound glared down at the table, trying to bite down his emotions.

“Ah Q you’re here” Peem said, greeting the new-comer.

Sound’s head snapped up at this. The Win-look-alike was Q?? The artist he was here to meet was the Win imposter??? Shit. That’s just great.

“This is Sound Saran and his manager P’May. They are here to discuss a possible collaboration with you.” Peem continued.

Q looked at Sound as he sat down, his face unreadable. He obviously recognized him from the bathroom. Go ahead, say something, Sound said with his eyes glaring a challenge at this fake Win.

“Nice to meet you” May said, greeting Q politely. She took a furtive glance at Sound. What the hell was wrong with him now? Why was he glaring at the artist they just tried so hard to get a meeting with? Realizing that Sound clearly wasn’t going to speak for himself, May decided to lead the conversation. “You may or may have not heard his music before, but Sound is a musician.” She pulled up his official profile on her phone, passing it across the table to the two artists.

Peem accepted her phone and placed it on the table between him and Q so that they could look at it.

“We’re currently in the process of preparing for Sound’s next album and this time we would like to use artwork for the cover art instead of photographs. Sound saw your paintings in the exhibition and was interested in your work, so we requested this meeting.” At the mention of Sound, the other three naturally turned their attention to him. Unfortunately, he was still looking at Q with suspicion.

May cleared her throat awkwardly. “We are willing to meet you at your commission rates, the company would be paying you as you rightfully deserve and giving you full credit for your work…”

Q stared at Sound for a moment, then shook his head and simply said “no” before getting up and leaving the room.

May looked at Peem in surprise and he just offered her an apologetic smile. “Sorry, like I said, he makes his own choices and I won’t force him. Let me show you the way out.”

Peem apologized again for his friends' stubbornness and bid them farewells at the door.

May asked Sound to wait in the garden for her while she went to the bathroom, so he grumpily walked into the small garden area on the side of the building. He was fuming. How dare that jerk look him in the face and refuse him like that. Just abruptly walk out of the room with no explanation. On what grounds? He angrily kicked a rock that went skipping down the small garden path. He hadn’t been this riled up in a long time, he felt his whole body prickling up with rage.

As he turned the corner to the back of the building to the bigger open garden area he saw just the person he was angry at and before he even knew what he was doing, he stomped right up to him.

“Give me a good reason why you won’t work with me you jerk,” He said pointing his finger at Q.

“You’ve got an attitude problem, you know that?” Q responded, slapping his hand away. “Just go away and find a different artist.”

“I have an attitude problem?!” Sound practically yelled “I didn’t even say a single word to you and you refused to work with me! What did I even do to you?”

“You keep glaring at me” Q said, crossing his arms and lifting one of his eyebrows in challenge. “I don’t appreciate getting glared at all the time.”

“I…I didn’t…” Sound wanted to argue, but even he knew he couldn’t. “It’s because of your face!” he finally yelled out in exasperation, “if you didn’t look like that, everything would be fine.”

As soon as he said it, he knew it didn’t make sense. It’s not that there’s anything wrong with Q’s face. In fact, Q has a great face, a very handsome face that is actually very much Sound’s style, too much Sound’s style. That’s the problem. He can’t see Q’s face without thinking of Win. And Sound can’t think of Win. He’s managed to suppress Win and Chinzhilla for the past 5 years. He wasn’t going to let some random painter bring all of that back up just because of their stupid imposter face.

“My face??!” Q retorted incredulously.

Sound sighed frustrated with himself and the situation “Maybe I’m just cursed, men who look like you are just meant to ruin everything for me.” Sound said, his words bitter and biting. With that, he turned around and marched straight to P’May’s car and stood waiting beside the passenger side door. His arms folded over his chest, his whole body still quivering with anger.

Q stood in confusion. What the fuck just happened? This self-centered jerk glared at him in the bathroom, glared at him again in the meeting room, then blamed it on his face? Then he had the audacity to look hurt? Q couldn’t ignore the pain in the other man’s eyes when he said that last sentence. It was so raw and palpable, so similar to Q’s own pain. It’s clear there is a story there, but that’s none of Q’s business. They’re never going to see each other again, and good riddance.

Q (2:15 p.m.): going home

Peem (2:16 p.m.): you ok? What was that about earlier?

Q (2:17 p.m.): I’m fine

He shoved his phone into his pocket, choosing to ignore the second question, too lazy to try to explain it or even really figure it out himself. He just wanted to go home and sleep and get away from the annoyance he was feeling.

Q saw Sound waiting at his manager’s car as he was getting in his own to drive home. They both deliberately ignored each other’s existence as he passed. “See you never again grumpy little musician boy,” Q muttered as he watched the boy disappear into the distance in his rearview mirror.