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This is probably one of the dumber ideas Tine’s had in his life.
But it’s like an intrusive thought: either flip the lightswitch back or your mom is going to break her arm. It doesn’t make a spot of sense but he absolutely has to do it.
He’s at the little dining table in his dorm-room doing what he can without any artistic talent to write Sarawat’s name across the back of an oversized cotton tee, above where he’s already done the number 12.
Tine’s going all out; he’s even going to use the black paint to draw the double stripes on the sleeves to match Sarawat’s real jersey. He’s being oddly attentive to detail with this little project and maybe that stems from how anxious he is to be doing it in the first place. Sarawat is going to laugh at him, Tine is pretty sure, but he supposes that if he gets Sarawat to laugh that will be better than nothing. (Besides, there’s a mini strawberry cake in the fridge, so if this fails completely there’ll be at the very least dessert to even out the night.)
Sarawat is spending the weekend with his family and won’t be coming by, so Tine feels confident to leave the t-shirt out on the balcony to dry on a towel knowing it won’t be seen. He really has to admit that he’s impressed with his own planning of this, considering a lot of what Tine decides to do is spur of the moment. Technically, he’d only decided to do this yesterday but unlike other times, he’d had an entire 24 hours to get everything together and he’d done so, and that’s something to be proud of, in his book. If he said that aloud to his boyfriend, Sarawat would probably shake his head, but he’d be smiling too.
Just thinking of Wat’s smile trained on him makes Tine’s face turn red where he works alone in his dorm. He’s long gotten past being embarrassed about it, though; it’s not going to change. It’s kind of romantic, really, that after over half a year together Sarawat still makes Tine blush, and Tine challenges anyone to say otherwise. (Green’s muscled gym buddies would beat up any shit-talker anyway.)
Thinking of Sarawat’s smile (among other things) keeps Tine awake nearly the entire night through. The Guntithanons had told Tine to join them for the birthday weekend; they’d insisted that Tine is a part of the family as much as their own sons, but Tine couldn’t bring himself to accept their invitation. He gets to see Sarawat every day, while they see him once every couple weeks. They deserve a little while with just themselves, and although having to wave as Sarawat backed out of the lot activated Tine’s desire to cry on command, he knew that he could survive a little while on his own. And now Sarawat is coming back, and his eyes will be shining in that special way that only comes from time spent with his family; and Tine will get to watch in real time as that expression shifts into the one Sarawat only gets when looking at him.
Tine’s sure to melt at the sight. He can’t wait.
He takes it upon himself to go to Sarawat’s apartment with the shirt and cake in preparation for his boyfriend’s arrival home, figuring it would be inconsiderate to ask him to go to Tine’s after the drive if he’s tired. Sarawat would, is the thing; if Tine asked, Sarawat would go right up to Tine’s dorm, bags and all, if it meant seeing him as soon as possible. He’s time and time again dropped everything for Tine, and if only for today Tine wants to do something for him.
He’s in the bathroom changing his clothes when he hears the door open out front, and the sound makes Tine’s heart stop in excitement. He can’t help smiling at himself in the mirror. He’s flushed already, like he’s been drinking. Maybe he should have, to make this less terrifying. Sarawat’s home.
His phone buzzes with a message. It’s his boyfriend, of course, asking if Tine is around to stop by. He takes a slow breath in and nods once. Tine walks out into the hall from the bathroom.
“Wat,” he says, and Sarawat jumps. He’s pouring himself some water by the sink and, startled by Tine, he nearly drops the glass to the floor. “Sarawat!”
“Tine, you…” Sarawat starts, sounding his usual mix of fond and exasperated as he puts his water onto the counter. He looks at Tine for real then, and Tine tries to smile like he doesn’t want to run from the apartment. Wat’s hot-chocolate eyes, looking only at Tine. His nerves are back and he feels crazier than ever to be wearing this.
Logically, he knows that it isn’t that big a deal; it’s just a white tee, the definition of no frills. It’s probably a double large and just about covers Tine down to the bottom hem of his boxers. His painting job had been an attempt to make the shirt resemble Sarawat’s football jersey so that he could wear it in a semi-sexy way but, by the look of astonishment and vague confusion on his boyfriend’s face, Tine’s starting to realise that this really was not his best move.
“Happy birthday, Wat. I mean, I know it was yesterday, but obviously I didn’t see you. I messaged you. Which you know, because you replied.”
He’s rambling. That’s even sexier. Tine would like to just once do something right in his life. The boys always tease him for having no brain-cells and sometimes, like right now, he sort of believes them. Anyway, it’s their fault for telling him that wearing a boyfriend’s sports gear is attractive; he should’ve known that they’d been messing with him.
If he tells Sarawat that, maybe he’ll agree to pretend this never happened. Maybe Sarawat doesn’t even realise what Tine is wearing and he can escape with some dignity. That sounds good. Tine goes to turn for the bathroom where his real clothes are folded—because if nothing else in his life Tine’s a master of folding laundry—but has to stop when he feels Sarawat’s fingers gently encircling his wrist.
“Hey,” he says to Tine. He turns him around to see the back of the ensemble, and a smile tugs at Sarawat’s mouth when he sees his own name there, drawn in Tine’s meticulous handwriting. “What’s this about?”
“Peuk said you’d like it,” Tine blurts. He’d really wanted to sound less panicked in his explanation, but why would that be possible? The cake is still in the fridge, Tine reminds himself, he has that to fall back on. God, why had he taken advice from those idiots? “Girls wear their boyfriend’s jersey, and I thought I could wear yours since you… have one. But then I thought you’d like the bigger top so I painted it. And this sounds really stupid now that I’m trying to tell you about it. So I’m going to change, and we can forget this.”
“Tua woon wai,” Sarawat says. He holds Tine there with a hand to his hip and the other on the side of Tine’s neck, his thumb brushing feather-light over Tine’s cheek.
“I just wanted to do something nice. I missed you.” Tine prepares himself for Sarawat to tease him as he normally does, but Sarawat presses his lips to Tine’s in a soft kiss, and Tine can’t say that isn’t a better deal.
“I missed you too,” Sarawat says in return, after a moment. He walks Tine backward until they can land on the mattress, where he grins at Tine. “I really missed you. Are you my gift to unwrap?”
“Shut up,” Tine orders, cheeks reddening. “You’re a perv’.”
“So you didn’t put this on to rile me up?” Sarawat asks, lifting his eyebrows. Okay, that’s fair. Tine had chosen his shortest boxers and purposely mussed his hair in the hopes that it would do Something to Sarawat, but does that make him a criminal? Is that not allowed?
“I did,” he admits.
Sarawat’s smile widens and he puts another kiss to Tine’s mouth, skating a hand under his ridiculously too-big shirt. Palms to Sarawat’s shoulder blades Tine can keep him close, the way they both prefer.
“How was your birthday?” Tine asks, only slightly pitched as Sarawat dips to kiss Tine’s collarbone.
“Good,” he says. “My mom said next time she won’t take your no for an answer.”
“I was trying to be considerate,” Tine says, ignoring the jolt he feels at thinking that he and Sarawat will still be together this time next year. “Oh! There’s a strawberry tort in the fridge; I know you love them from that one bakery.”
“What a sweet boy,” Sarawat laughs, but his eyes are soft as he looks down at Tine. He brings his hand around to Sarawat’s cheek. He holds it there, smiling softly at the feel of the smooth, familiar skin under his fingers, and Sarawat asks, “What is it?”
“You’re just so pretty,” Tine says simply.
Sarawat’s lips quirk and he kisses Tine’s forehead, lingering. “I love you.”
“Love you,” Tine answers, as he always does, but he flushes as he says it, also as he always does. It’s still hard to believe sometimes that a guy like Sarawat… or that Tine… Well, a lot has changed, but it’s been months and this hasn’t. Nearly every day, Sarawat’s been there to remind Tine that he’s loved, and Tine can say with confidence that for as long as he can be, he’s going to be there to remind Sarawat of the same.
“I love this shirt too,” Sarawat says, and he tugs pointedly at its hem, “but I’d love it even more off.”
“Insatiable.”
Sarawat laughs against Tine’s throat, his hand still running circles across his boyfriend’s chest. “It’s been two days,” he murmurs, a kiss here, and there, “cut me some slack. Either I eat you now, or the cake.”
Needless to say, Tine takes the shirt off.
(And vows to wear it again. He’d spent hours on it, only to toss it by the wayside after ten minutes. He’s going to get his time’s worth eventually. Shouldn’t be too difficult to manage.)