Chapter Text
It wasn’t an immediate transformation. After Can broke his heart, Tin couldn't fathom ever truly smiling again, much less laughing and joking and celebrating with a whole group of friends by year’s end.
He'd meant to close himself off again. Hide away from the world and remember forever, never again to forget, that he could trust no one. Anyone and everyone would betray him if given the chance.
So he would give no more chances.
That's why, when Pete showed up outside his door one week later—buzzed through the gate by a maid who didn't yet know Tin's new policy of 'No more friends'—Tin had every intention of serving Pete with the coldest expression known to man before closing the door right in his face. Surely that would get the message across, even to Pete. And if it didn't, well... He'd go on ignoring Pete's texts and calls and visits until the message did sink in. Not even saintly Pete could keep up a one-sided friendship indefinitely. With this plan in mind, Tin swung open the door, feeling hard as stone and cold as ice.
Pete stood a couple of feet away. The look in his eyes was so soft, so warm and yet so sad, that Tin found himself struck dumb, his lips failing to deliver a final goodbye, his hands failing to shut the door between them. Then,
"Ai'Tin..." said Pete, his voice just as soft and warm and sad as his eyes. "Oh Ai'Tin, I'm so sorry."
Tin crumbled. Lips quivering, a first tear fell down his cheek. Then another and another. His erect posture sagged, until the only thing keeping him vertical was his tight grip on the door frame.
All too suddenly, he realized the truth. Can had broken him open and there was no way to seal up the cracks he'd left behind. Because the truth of Can's betrayal was that he hadn't betrayed Tin at all. He'd made no promises, broken no vows. He'd given Tin only the truth. Unlike those who had hurt Tin so badly in the past, Tin realized that he didn’t, that he couldn’t hate Can. Can hadn't revealed himself a monster, like Tul. He was the same wonderful, kind, trusting, honest Can he had always been. And Tin loved him. He loved him with all his mangled heart—a heart he'd once thought dead, but which now beat with vicious life inside his chest.
It was he that was the unlovable one. And that's why Can had left.
Not until he felt Pete's arms around him did Tin realize that he was yelling. He realized simultaneously that they were both on the floor now, Tin in a defeated slump and Pete kneeling beside him, arms wrapped cautiously around his shoulders. Later he couldn't remember the trek that he and Pete made through the house up to Tin's bedroom. But he was desperately glad none of his family had been home to witness his meltdown.
Once in his room, Tin sat on the bed, legs pulled up to his chest. Pete seated himself in a chair close by. Some voice far back in Tin’s mind gave an amused huff at the distance Pete maintained between them—no doubt driven by Ae's jealous nature. In fact, Tin would consider himself lucky if the possessive Thai Programme boy didn't punch him just for the embrace he'd received at the door.
Tears drying up, Tin swiped his hands across his face to vanish all trace of them. He was too embarrassed to lift his gaze from the duvet.
"Maybe... Ai’Can will change his mind...?”
Tin glared at his friend. “Don’t.”
Pete looked down, chastened. He didn’t ask Tin to clarify. He understood that it was an all-encompassing “Don’t.” Don’t say his name. Don’t give me false hope. Don’t comfort me with lies.
After that they sat together in silence, but Tin didn’t mind. Actually he liked it. Over time his breathing returned to normal and the scream that had been living inside his chest for a week was blissfully gone now.
When half an hour had gone by, Tin’s brow creased. He stretched out his legs and turned to Pete, who was staring at his own hands clasped together in his lap.
“Ai’Pete,” he said.
The other boy looked up. “Mm?”
“How... did you know?”
Expecting Pete to look away guiltily, Tin was surprised when he held Tin’s gaze. He was quiet for a moment before speaking.
“You weren’t answering your phone. I hadn’t heard from you in days. I was worried.” He paused again, considering, though his countenance remained neutral. Then, “I called Ai’Can. He told me what happened. He said—”
Pete cut himself off, sitting up straighter and looking away. His eyes widened slightly, as though he knew he’d almost made a terrible misstep. Finally some sign of the uncertainty Tin knew he must be feeling—Pete’s tender heart trying to navigate the situation without causing his friend more hurt.
Ignoring the way his heart clenched to the size of a raisin, Tin asked, “What did he say?”
Pete’s eyes flicked upwards from beneath his bangs and met Tin’s, hesitant. Once upon a time, no matter what Pete believed, such a look from his friend would have made Tin’s heart flutter in his chest. No, it was never love, perhaps. But there was no denying that Pete was cute. And Tin had discovered recently that ‘cute’ was very much his type.
“He said... that he could no longer take care of you. He asked that I take care of you in his place, and make sure that you continue to smile more.”
Jaw tightening, Tin turned his gaze to the wall. He would not sob again. He wouldn’t.
“He sounded sad. Like he’d been crying.”
Tin sucked in a harsh, surprised breath, Pete’s words hitting him like a punch to the gut.
“Ai’Tin.”
He turned back to Pete, every muscle in his body tight. The look of intense sympathy he found there made him want to break something. An expensive vase, perhaps. Or one of his own legs.
“Are you sure this is what you want?” asked Pete. “I know he misses you. He still wants to be friends, you don’t have to—”
“If Ae wanted only to be friends with you,” Tin cut in, practically snarling, “would you accept him that way?”
“Yes,” was the immediate response.
This gave Tin pause. He leaned backwards. “You would?”
Pete nodded. “Yes,” he said simply. “I would accept Ai’Ae however he wished, so long as he was by my side.”
After a moment Tin shook his head, the crease between his eyes furrowing deeper as his lips twitched into a frown. “Then I’m not like you, Pete. I can’t...” He searched for the words to explain. To his horror, he found no words but only tears instead, which again began to fill his eyes. “I can’t,” he repeated.
“...okay,” was the soft reply.
Then Pete took hold of Tin’s hand and he jumped. He hadn’t known he was wringing his hands together until Pete’s delicate fingers intervened and held them instead.
“I don’t think Ai’Thai Programme will appreciate this.” He tried to say these words as an insult, but even to his own ears they sounded tired and sad.
Pete cracked a smile, as though he could see right through Tin. “Don’t worry about Ai’Ae; I won’t let him rough you up. Too much.”
Again startled out of his numb state, Tin’s eyes shot up to Pete’s. At the mischief he saw there, he couldn’t help but break into a smile of his own, even letting out a quiet chuckle.
Pete squeezed his hands once before letting go, truly smiling now. Tin tried to widen his smile to match the other boy’s. It took a herculean effort, every cell of his body still aching with the pain of his loss, but he felt better for it. Especially when it caused Pete’s smile to grow in response, bringing a new shine to his eyes.
Tin sighed. It was a happy sigh, one that took with it much of the pent-up tension and agony of the past week. His smile brightened more naturally. This... Maybe this wasn’t so bad. Maybe... even if he couldn’t have Can... his precious Cantaloupe... Maybe he could still benefit from the openness that Can had brought out in him. Maybe it would be okay to... to smile, and laugh. With friends. Maybe he could let himself trust again.
Maybe it would all be okay. Maybe he would be okay. Maybe he could even be happy.
A strange idea, but... one that might possibly come true?
And if he happened to know for a fact that Can liked happy people... well, that wasn’t part of the equation. Not in the slightest.