Work Text:
It was a slow Friday afternoon, thick with humidity and lazy laughter.
Thomas was lounging on the old sofa in AuAu’s condo, a half-empty bottle of water sweating on the floor next to him. His friends were cracking jokes and retelling university stories, but his attention was on his phone.
The screen blinked with a new notification.
boiled egg 🥚 [16:32]
p’thooo
boiled egg 🥚 [16:32]
kong is done with classes for the day!!
boiled egg 🥚 [16:32]
are we still eating out?
Thomas smiled, typing a reply as fast as he could.
me [16:33]
of course, boiled egg. phi promised to treat you dinner tonight, didn't he?
me [16:33]
phi will be there in 10, okay?
boiled egg 🥚 [16:33]
hmm okay! be careful on your way here
“I’m heading out,” Thomas said, sitting up immediately and grabbing his keys.
AuAu grinned, raising an eyebrow.
“Lemme guess. Is it MR.T working hours already?”
Thomas rolled his eyes, feeling the teasing tone in his friend's voice. It wasn't uncommon to him anymore — it happened a lot, especially when Thomas was picking up or dropping off Kong somewhere.
He even got a nickname for that — MR.T — and it became an inside joke between them.
“N’Kong’s classes just finished, I'm picking him up.”
“So you're ditching your friends,” Save sighed dramatically, placing a hand over his heart and making the saddest face he could.
“I promised to treat him to dinner tonight.”
Save chimed in again, teasing.
“Why do you treat N’Kong differently, huh?”
Thomas paused mid-step. What did Save mean with that?
“I don’t,” he said, blinking. “I treat all my friends the same.”
AuAu and Save burst out laughing like he’d just told the funniest joke of the year, making Thomas' frown even deeper.
“Yeah, sure, P’Tho ,” AuAu said, using a whiny tone while nudging Save. “You’re totally just a generous friend who buys snacks and gives rides to all of us. Totally .”
Thomas frowned again, confused, but they waved him off before he could ask more. Still, the question clung to him like Bangkok heat.
The sun had just started to dip behind the tall buildings of Bangkok when Thomas pulled up in front of Kong’s university building. It took him a bit longer than he planned to get there — the traffic was awful and it was so hard to find somewhere to park — but, luckily for him, Kong texted him saying he'd take more time than he expected to leave his classroom.
The campus was still bustling with students, which made Thomas miss a bit of his time at university. He was reminiscing when his eyes found N’Kong right away.
Kong waved, jogging over with his bag bouncing against his side. His smile was easy, bright, and it tugged at something in Thomas’s chest every time.
“Hello, P’Tho,” Kong greeted as he slid into the passenger seat. “Did I make you wait too much? Sorry, the professor was giving me some insights about my assignment.”
Thomas shook his head, smiling fondly. He noticed the droplets of sweat dripping from Kong's temple and immediately got a few tissues, wiping it gently. Kong turned to him slightly, letting the older man take care of him, smiling when Thomas murmured “all done”.
After making sure all the used tissues were on the trash bag, Thomas adjusted the AC, watching Kong relax against the passenger seat and close his eyes.
“Is it better?”
“Much better,” Kong smiled widely. “Anyways, I didn't ruin any of your plans for today, did I?”
“I didn't have anything better to do.”
Kong peeked at him, suspicious. That was the answer Thomas always gave him when he asked if he was bothering.
“I'm pretty sure you do have something better to do.”
“Nah. Besides, I like driving around here.”
“P’Tho, the traffic in this area is awful.”
“Traffic wasn’t that bad,” Thomas lied smoothly, turning the engine on.
Kong laughed and leaned his head back against the seat. He seemed a bit tired, but the smile never left his lips or his eyes.
“ Sure , whatever you say, little frog.”
Thomas looked at him out of the corner of his eye and smiled. As they got stuck in traffic on the way to their favorite restaurant, Kong kept gossiping about his classmates or whining about the exams he still had to take. Thomas, meanwhile, just listened, adding a comment or two here and there.
That night, lying in bed, Thomas realized: he would brave the worst traffic for N’Kong.
Without hesitation.
And he wouldn’t do that for just anyone.
It was supposed to be a quick stop at 7-Eleven.
Thomas just needed a drink. But then he spotted a famous snack’s brand new flavor — extra spicy shrimp.
His first thought?
N’Kong would love this.
Without thinking, he grabbed two packs and added them to his basket, not forgetting to get a bottle of strawberry milk.
On the way to Kong’s apartment, he also stopped for bubble tea because he remembered Kong saying earlier in the week that he’d been craving the brown sugar kind.
As soon as Kong opened the door, Thomas handed the bag over like it was nothing and entered the apartment as if it was his own condo.
Kong didn't mind. Instead, he beamed and took a sip of the drink.
“P’Tho, you’re the best.”
Thomas shrugged, sitting down on Kong's couch.
“It’s just snacks.”
But later that afternoon, as he looked at the crumpled boba receipt in his pocket, he caught himself smiling.
It wasn’t just snacks.
He always looked for things that would make Kong happy.
His favorite drinks, cute keychains, music he might like. He remembered everything.
He didn’t do that for anyone else.
Thomas didn't like parties.
Too loud. Too crowded. Too many people trying to talk all at once.
He'd rather be at a cafè, sipping his coffee, or at home, where he could enjoy the silence peacefully.
So it made no sense that he was standing in front of Kong's apartment, wearing his best clothes with his styled hair, ready to go to a party.
Of course, it was Kong's idea.
“It'll be so much fun, P’Tho! Please?” Kong pleaded, blinking those big sweet brown eyes at Thomas, who tried to look away, feeling his heart beating a little faster. “I promise to stay with you the whole night, little frog. Can you please go to the party with me?”
Thomas didn't understand why Kong wanted him to go so bad when he knew he wasn't a big fan of parties. He didn't want to make Kong lose all the fun being stuck with him all the time — because, honestly, he was going to be sitting on the corner, drinking until boredom took the best of him.
However, Thomas didn't have it in him to say no when Kong was looking at him like that .
“Fine.”
“My little frog is the best in the whole world!”
Thomas sighed, leaning on the car’s side, waiting for Kong to get there. He got a text saying he was getting on the elevator a few minutes ago and apologizing for being late — which Thomas didn't really care, it's not like he was excited for the party anyways.
“ P’Tho! ” Thomas looked up to the building's entrance and he felt himself swallow hard. “Kong's here!”
Thomas knew Kong was pretty. It was obvious , no one could deny his beauty.
But.
Kong wasn't only pretty, he was breathtakingly gorgeous. His hair was perfectly styled, showing part of his forehead. The chosen outfit for tonight was all black, consisting of a see-through button-down shirt with silver details and velvety slacks, hugging perfectly his small waist.
Something else took Thomas attention: the pearly necklace Kong was wearing. Thomas' gift.
“How do I look, P’Tho?”
Thomas felt his answer took longer than it should.
“You look good, boiled egg.”
Kong beamed. “Just good ?”
Thomas cleared his throat, trying to look anywhere but at the boy’s glittering eyes and exposed collarbones.
“You look… fine. ”
Kong laughed — loud, delighted, unbothered — and slipped his arm through Thomas’s as they made their way to the car.
The party was exactly what Thomas expected. Music thumped through the walls. Laughter echoed from every direction. There were too many bodies pressed into too little space.
He already wanted to go home.
Kong, on the other hand, lit up the room. As soon as they walked in, people gravitated toward him — classmates, friends of friends, people who barely knew him but wanted to. He greeted everyone with the same warmth, that contagious energy that made people want to be close to him.
Thomas ended up exactly where he said he would: in the corner, nursing a drink, watching the party through a hazy golden light.
But mostly, he watched Kong.
Dancing. Laughing. Glowing.
Every time Thomas’s gaze drifted, it found its way back. He told himself it was just to make sure Kong was okay.
At one point, Kong caught him staring.
Thomas didn’t look away.
Kong tilted his head, smiled — that small, knowing smile — and began weaving through the crowd. A few people tried to pull him back into conversation, but he only offered quick words and polite bows before reaching Thomas.
“Why are you hiding here, little frog?” he teased, gently nudging Thomas’s shoulder.
The older man looked away, embarrassed to be caught. “I told you I’m not a party person.”
“Then be a Kong person,” he said simply, holding out his hand. “Come dance with me.”
“I don’t dance.”
“You do with me.”
Before Thomas could get another word out — another half-formed excuse — Kong grabbed his hand and tugged him into the crowd.
And the thing was… Thomas did dance.
At first, it was painfully awkward. He moved like someone trying to dodge invisible wires, too aware of his arms, his legs, the way people brushed past him. The bass thudded in his chest like a second heartbeat, disorienting and too fast.
But Kong didn’t let go.
He stayed close, one hand wrapped firmly around Thomas’s, the other gesturing wildly in the air as he danced with reckless, effortless joy. His shirt shimmered under the spinning lights, translucent fabric catching flashes of red, blue, and gold. Strands of his hair had fallen over his forehead, sticking slightly from sweat, but he looked radiant — a firework in motion.
Kong laughed, and it was bright and loud and real. He tossed his head back as Thomas attempted a step that resembled more of a stumble, and instead of teasing him, he leaned in and shouted over the music, “You’re doing amazing, little frog!”
Thomas groaned, covering his face with one hand. “I’m a disaster.”
“You’re my disaster,” Kong replied with a wink, grabbing both his hands now and making him spin. “Just let go, P’Tho. No one's watching but me.”
And slowly, Thomas did.
His steps were still clumsy. He bumped into Kong more times than he could count, and at one point, he was sure he elbowed someone behind him. But Kong just laughed harder and pulled him closer, guiding him through the rhythm like they were the only two people in the world. It didn’t matter how he looked. Not with Kong watching him like that — eyes crinkled with joy, cheeks flushed with exertion, every bit of him alive with the music.
And maybe that was why it felt okay.
Maybe that was why Thomas found himself laughing too — genuinely — for the first time that night.
They kept dancing, tangled in their own little orbit, until Thomas couldn’t feel the stiffness in his limbs anymore. Just the heat of Kong’s fingers, the rush of adrenaline, and the impossible fact that this felt… good.
Fun, even.
Later, as Thomas drove a dozing Kong home, the world felt quieter than usual. The city lights passed in streaks, casting a soft glow across Kong’s face where he’d fallen asleep against the window, one hand still adorned with glitter from someone else's jacket, the other curled in his lap like a cat.
The necklace — the one Thomas had given him — gleamed faintly against his skin.
Thomas stole a glance, heart tugging.
He thought about the way Kong had pulled him into the crowd without hesitation. The way his smile made everything else fade. The way Thomas, who hated parties, had danced — really danced — just to keep up with him.
It hadn’t been perfect.
It had been chaotic, ungraceful, loud.
But it had been theirs.
And Thomas knew, as he pulled into Kong’s street and parked quietly, that he wouldn’t have had even half as much fun with anyone else.
Only with Kong.
The sun was beginning to dip, casting a golden glow over the backyard. The grill hissed with the smell of sizzling meat, the smoke curling into the air and mixing with the sound of laughter. It was one of those lazy afternoons that stretched into evening — a homemade barbecue with mismatched chairs, cold drinks, and someone’s playlist playing half too loud through a speaker.
Thomas stood near the grill, tongs in one hand, flipping skewers with the calm precision of someone who took cooking very seriously. He wasn’t much of a party guy, but this? This kind of thing was fine. Chill. Manageable. Especially because Kong was there too — sitting cross-legged on the picnic blanket, holding a plate piled with food — Thomas’ doing — while talking animatedly to their friends with his mouth still full.
“Alright!” Save clapped his hands as soon as everyone had eaten. “Time for something fun. I vote karaoke.”
A collective groan went up from the group, but it was good-natured. A few people were already reaching for their phones to queue up songs.
They liked to have these moments once in a while.
“Thomas,” someone called, “you’re up first.”
He didn’t even look up from the grill. “No.”
“Oh, come on,” another voice chimed in. “You have that deep, dramatic voice. It’s perfect for ballads.”
“I’m not doing karaoke,” Thomas said, unmoved, plating the last of the grilled vegetables.
Save pouted exaggeratedly. “Not even one song? One tiny, little , embarrassing pop song?”
“No.”
“Not even if we all do one too?”
“Still no.”
The group laughed, taking bets on what it would take to get Thomas to crack. One of them even started chanting his name. Thomas ignored it all, wiping his hands on a towel with the stoicism of someone who had spent years resisting peer pressure.
Then Save grinned like he had a secret weapon. He turned to where Kong was lounging on the blanket, now leaning back on his elbows, watching the whole thing unfold with a smirk.
“N’Kong,” Save called, “can you ask him?”
Kong tilted his head. “Ask him what?”
“Convince your little frog to sing.”
A few people chuckled at the nickname. Kong just grinned wider and got up, brushing crumbs from his shirt. He strolled over to Thomas, who was now trying to clean the grill with far more focus than necessary.
“P’Tho .. .”
Thomas didn’t look at him. “ Don’t .”
“But I didn’t say anything yet.”
“I already know what you’re going to say.”
Kong stepped closer, voice softening into that sweet, teasing tone Thomas had no defenses against.
“Just one song,” he said, poking his arm. “Please?”
“No,” Thomas replied — but it was weaker this time. Less certain.
Kong leaned in closer, pouting. “Please, little frog?”
Thomas stopped scrubbing the grill.
There was a beat of silence.
Then he sighed. Deeply. Dramatically. Like the universe had betrayed him. Slowly, he turned and handed Save the towel like it was a burden.
“One song,” he muttered, already regretting everything.
Save whooped. The group cheered.
Kong? He just smiled — innocent, victorious.
Thomas shot him a look as they walked toward the makeshift stage (aka a spot near the speaker), and Kong only raised an eyebrow like, what? But there was a glint in his eye — a smug sparkle that said he knew exactly what he’d done.
And Thomas realized something with a quiet jolt:
Kong had him completely wrapped around his little finger.
Worse — he knew it.
And worst of all?
Thomas didn’t even mind.
Songkran did something amazing to Thailand’s streets — loud and fun music, splashes of water coming from every possible direction and people from all around the world shrieking with laughter. Everyone felt more free, lighter.
Thomas wasn’t usually a fan of crowds, but somehow, with Kong pulling him by the hand into the heart of the festival, he didn’t feel overwhelmed. He felt… alive .
His shirt was soaked. His hair clung to his forehead. His sandals squelched with every step.
And he was smiling .
Kong had on this black t-shirt already sticking to his skin and a matching black hat that kept his face partially protected and his hair tamed. His face was flushed from the heat — and maybe the beers he’d been sneaking from their friends’ cooler — but his grin was pure sunshine.
Thomas had been sipping a bottle of beer, half-lost in watching Kong laugh as he ambushed a group of teenagers with a bucket of icy water, when he noticed it: the slight wobble in Kong’s step. The way he leaned a little too much on whoever was nearest. The way his eyes sparkled with something hazier than just joy.
He tossed the beer in a nearby bin and quietly grabbed a bottle of soda instead.
“N’Kong,” he called, catching up as the younger boy nearly slipped again.
Kong turned, face lighting up. “ P’Tho! ”
He stumbled into Thomas’s chest, arms wrapping around him in a soaking-wet hug. Normally, it would make Thomas grimace, but he realized he didn’t mind it.
“You’re so slow. I almost drowned in foam back there.”
“You’re fine,” Thomas said, steadying him with a hand on his waist. “You need water.”
“I drank water,” Kong mumbled against his neck. “It had bubbles. Tasted sweet.”
“That was cider.”
Kong just giggled, resting his full weight on Thomas now. And, being so close, Thomas could feel every line of him — warm, damp, loose with the kind of tipsy affection that made his heart flutter and ache all at once.
They stayed a bit longer, Thomas guiding Kong through the crowds with a gentle hand at the small of his back, shielding him from the more aggressive splashes. Kong kept clinging, tripping, wrapping his arms around Thomas’ neck or shoulders whenever he lost his balance, pressing in close.
Not only that, he kept whispering in Thomas' ear, his warm breath on Thomas’ cold skin.
It was sweet.
It was a little maddening.
And it was getting harder to pretend it didn’t affect Thomas.
After a few more hours, Kong finally slumped against him and sighed, “P’Tho, I think the ground is dancing.”
Thomas chuckled. “Alright, time to go.”
They slipped away from the noise, the festival fading behind them as they took the less busy side streets. Thomas kept an arm firmly around Kong’s waist, making sure he wouldn't fall or bump into someone. Kong’s steps were clumsy but eager — he kept leaning into Thomas like gravity pulled him there.
“Your shoulder’s nice,” Kong murmured, his lips brushing Thomas’s ear. “Strong. Smells like soap.”
“You're very drunk,” Thomas replied, but his voice was gentle.
“Not drunk,” Kong protested, nuzzling into his neck. “Just happy.”
Thomas swallowed.
They stopped at a corner while Thomas adjusted his grip, waiting for their ride. They were both out of breath, skin still damp and sticky from the heat when Kong looked up at him, eyes glassy and soft.
He had the softest and sweetest smile hanging loose on his lips.
“I'm glad we could celebrate Songkran together, P’Tho,” Kong's voice was lazy, but genuine. “This year is special to me.”
“Yeah? How come?”
“We did a lot of things we couldn’t do before. We celebrated your birthday together! And now we’re here,” Kong rested his head on Thomas' shoulder, letting out a breathy laughter. “I guess it’s always special with you.”
Thomas didn’t say anything at first.
He couldn’t.
His fingers tingled where they touched Kong’s waist, and his mouth had gone dry. The warmth of Kong’s body against his side, the lazy lilt in his voice, the way he always said things like that — like it didn’t mean everything.
Thomas glanced down.
Kong's lips were a little chapped, but still soft-looking, pink and parted in a gentle smile. His breath hitched in Thomas’ throat. He’d never noticed how close Kong always stood, how easily he fit into the curve of his body, how he always seemed to know just where to rest his head.
Thomas blinked, heart thudding in his chest.
He wasn’t just nervous — he was buzzing . Like something inside him had just clicked, and it was too big, too loud, too sudden to ignore.
Then Kong looked up at him again, as if he felt it too.
Their eyes locked.
And to Thomas’ surprise, Kong leaned in first.
It was a tentative kiss — quick and shy at first, like testing the water. Their noses bumped slightly, and Thomas could taste the faintest trace of sweetness on Kong’s lips, maybe from the soda he’d sipped earlier. The kiss deepened just a little, slow and clumsy, and yet…
Perfect.
Thomas felt it like a wave crashing over him. His chest squeezed tight. His heart pounded so loudly it seemed to echo in his ears, his neck, his fingertips. All of him reacted, not with panic or confusion, but with an overwhelming, undeniable rightness.
Kong pulled back just slightly, his cheeks flushed, his breath uneven.
Before Thomas could say a word, Kong wrapped his arms around him in a tight hug, burying his face in Thomas’s shoulder.
Thomas held him back without thinking, arms winding around his waist, hands pressing gently against his back. There was no teasing now, no silly comments — just warmth. Just closeness.
Their ride pulled up with a quiet hum.
Neither of them moved for a few seconds.
Kong finally pulled away, eyes soft, but he didn’t say anything. Just took Thomas’ hand and let himself be guided to the car, climbing in with the quiet grace of someone who’d just stepped out of a dream.
Later that night, Thomas laid on his bed staring at the ceiling.
The fan whirred quietly above him. The light from the hallway seeped faintly under his door. But none of it mattered — his thoughts were too loud.
His fingers still tingled from holding Kong.
His lips still burned from the kiss.
He touched them absentmindedly, heart fluttering all over again.
It had been one kiss. One moment.
But now everything had changed.
He couldn’t stop thinking about how it felt to have Kong that close, how easily Kong folded into him, how soft his voice had been when he said, “It’s always special with you.”
Thomas turned onto his side and curled his hand under his cheek.
He thought about the way Kong always made him laugh, how he could never say no to him, how just seeing Kong smile made something ache in his chest.
He’d thought it was just a soft spot.
But it was more.
So much more.
Because now, all Thomas could think about was how much brighter every day felt with Kong in it. How much he wanted Kong to keep kissing him. To wake up next to him. To be his.
A soft breath escaped him, the tiniest smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
Kong wasn’t just his best friend.
Kong was the beginning of something he hadn’t even realized he’d been waiting for.
And Thomas couldn’t wait to see what came next.
It was late — the kind of late that made the world feel hushed and sacred.
The city outside had settled into its usual evening hush. The occasional car passed by the window, headlights casting fleeting golden lights across the living room floor where Thomas and Kong sat, curled up together beneath a thin blanket. A movie played quietly in the background, more for ambiance than attention. Their bodies were warm, pressed shoulder to shoulder, legs tangled slightly as they sat close on the couch — neither of them speaking, both simply soaking in the comfort of shared silence.
Kong rested against Thomas’ chest, knees tucked close, his cheek warm against Thomas’ shoulder. His breathing had evened out, but every now and then he stirred, tracing lazy shapes on Thomas’ arm with his fingertip.
Thomas exhaled softly.
His fingers were buried in Kong’s hair, absently brushing through the soft strands. It had become a habit — touching him whenever he could, like his hands were finally doing what his heart had been trying to do for years.
Kong hummed quietly at the gesture, a small sound that made Thomas’s stomach flip. It was soft, pleased — like a cat purring under sunlight. He shifted a little, eyes flickering toward the movie for the first time in a while.
The screen showed the protagonist stepping into something difficult — it wasn’t loud or heroic in the traditional sense, but it was brave. Vulnerable and raw and human. They stood up for themselves, said something that had been buried for years, trembling but determined.
Kong watched for a moment and whispered, almost absently, “I want to be brave like that.”
Thomas turned his head slowly, eyes fixed on Kong’s profile — his slightly parted lips, the softness in his gaze.
“I think you’re the bravest person I know,” Thomas said, voice low and steady.
Kong turned to look at him, blinking slowly. “What makes you think that?”
Thomas shrugged.
“You’re just… so much. So bright. Loud in a way that fills the room instead of drowning it. You say what you feel. You move toward things. And somehow you’re still soft. Still kind.”
Kong tilted his head. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
“No,” Thomas murmured, gaze dropping to his hands. “It’s what I admire the most about you.”
Silence.
A soft breeze brushed through the half-open window, cooling the room just enough to make the blanket feel warmer. Thomas swallowed, then looked back at Kong.
“I hold everything in,” he continued. “I take too long to say things. I second-guess every word before I let it out. But you… you make it easy to breathe. Like being near you makes everything feel... right .”
Kong didn’t say anything. Not yet.
He just looked at Thomas, expression unreadable in the half-light. And then...
Then he smiled.
“You know,” he said, voice gentle, “you’re not as subtle as you think you are.”
Thomas blinked. “What?”
Kong leaned in, shoulder pressing lightly against his. “You don’t say it. But you do say it.”
Thomas looked away, heart thudding against his ribs.
Kong continued, “Every time you wait outside my class just to take me home, even if I never ask. Every time you act like you just happened to buy my favorite snack. Every time you show up at a party, even though I know you hate parties, just because you know I like it. I’ve always known, P’Tho.”
Thomas’s mouth parted, but no sound came out.
Kong smiled wider, warm and playful. “You look at me like I’m your favorite story.”
Thomas turned his face slowly, eyes locking with Kong’s. The moment settled around them like falling petals — quiet, deliberate, soft.
“And you…” Thomas whispered, barely breathing, “You feel like the only thing I’ve ever gotten right.”
Kong blinked, and something in his expression softened even more. His lashes lowered slightly, and he leaned forward, slow and sure.
“You’re so dramatic,” he teased.
Thomas didn’t even get to respond because Kong kissed him.
It was the gentlest thing — hesitant at first, a soft brush of lips like he was asking a question. Thomas froze for a second, stunned, and then answered with a kiss of his own — deeper, more certain. Their mouths moved slowly, like they had all the time in the world to get it right. And maybe they did.
When they finally pulled away, Kong tucked his face into Thomas’s neck, smiling so wide it hurt.
“I already knew,” he whispered again.
Thomas kissed his temple, heart fluttering.
“I still needed to say it,” he replied.
Kong snuggled in closer. “I’m glad you did.”
And beneath the dim light, wrapped in a blanket and each other, everything fell quietly, beautifully into place.