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Tine stands in the giant ballroom, watching over the crowd with a bored gaze, lifting his glass of champagne to his lips for a sip.
To say that he’s annoyed is a serious understatement– he’s aggrievedly displeased, absolutely infuriated, and extremely vexed that he has to attend this stupid gala.
He’ll start at the beginning. Today is his birthday, a day he normally loves because he gets to do whatever he wants and ignore his duties, but today he turns eighteen, which is what he dreads the most because this ball was specifically meant for him to find a suitor. He expressed his opposition to his brother– Type, the king– several times a few days before, but he just replied to him with a wave of a hand and said in a blank voice, “It’s tradition, Tine. I also had to went through this, so you have to too.” He didn’t even flinch as Tine screamed in annoyance, kicking a chair nearby and vowing to himself that when he becomes king, he’ll make sure to remove that idiotic law so his kids won’t have to go through that.
The whole night was just him trying to get through the room while girls repeatedly threw themselves at him and offered him roses, a sign that they wanted to have a dance with him. He’d always reject them as politely as he could because he knows that if he accepts one rose, everyone in the room would immediately come to the conclusion that the girl he accepted the flower from is the one he was going to marry. So he had no choice but to decline them each and every time, almost taking an hour to reach the corner on where his friends were encircling at.
“I don’t understand why you won’t talk to any of these girls because I gladly would!” His best friend and personal guard, Fong, exclaimed in outrage. He slings his arm around his shoulders, which made Tine huff at the sudden weight, and pulls him close. “Do you see them? Their beauty is incomparable to a hundred sunsets, to a thousand flower fields! They’re even as beautiful as Pear!”
“Hey.” Earn snaps from beside him, elbowing him in the stomach as she grasped Pear’s hand tightly in her own. “This beauty is taken, Fong. Don’t even dare.” Pear giggled at her girlfriend’s jealousy-filled words while Fong whined, holding his stomach in pain.
“I know! I wasn’t suggesting anything at all!”
Tine rolls his eyes and takes Fong’s arm out his shoulder. “I’ll tell Chat that you’re cheating on him with girls whose ‘beauty are incomparable to a hundred sunsets’ if you don’t shut up.”
Fong’s eyes immediately widened in fear as he clasped his hands together desperately. “No, please! He’ll be hurt and I love him too much!”
Tine smirks. He does know that. Fong isn’t really the type to be vocal about his feelings, but Tine sees the way Fong looks at Chat; with fondness and love dripping from his eyes, like he’s the only person Fong would spend his entire life with.
Good for them, Tine thinks, a bit bitter but nevertheless happy for them. At least they get to show their relationship openly without anyone else caring or the world’s eyes on their backs. They get to love each other so freely, unlike Tine, who has the responsibility of an entire kingdom and the reputation of the royal family on his shoulders. He’s a public figure; with gazes following his every move and judging every action he makes, including the people he dates.
The reason why Tine doesn’t date around anymore as much as he did when he was a prepubescent teen is because while the years pass, so does his awareness of what’s going on in the world. The girls he dated would either be bombarded with paparazzis, break up with him because of all the pressure, or just accepted to be with him because of his wealth and status. When he reached fifteen, he decided he’d never date anyone that openly anymore and he still holds that decision true to his heart ‘till this day.
But just because he had terrible experiences with dating doesn’t mean he’s angry at his friends for having their significant others. He loves his friends and cares for their happiness very much! He helped Earn and Pear get together, also P’Dim and Green, P’Air and Pam, and Fong and Chat...
Technically, he’s a matchmaker for all of them, which is a lot better than dating, really.
“I don’t know why you’re all pressuring Tine to talk to a girl.” His other friend– Ohm, who’s a technological and internet enthusiast– shakes his head, quickly getting Tine’s drink from his hands and taking a sip, causing Tine to look at him in bewilderment. “I’m happy just staying single.”
“I had to wait an hour to get that drink.” Tine grumbles under his breath, glaring angrily at Ohm, shoving his hands in the pockets of his slacks instead because he doesn’t have a drink to hold anymore.
“Same here.” Phuak, his personal chef for more than ten years, agrees with a nod of his head.
“Sure, sure.” Earn says, rolling her eyes at them. “I’ll make sure to say the same thing about you guys when you’ll talk to girls later.”
“Earn!” Ohm and Phuak whines. “Don’t ruin the fun for us!”
Tine just sighs harshly as he ignores them, watching the people around him instead. The huge room was filled with various people from all around the world to see the prince– who is unfortunately Tine– pick the lucky girl who he’d be wed to. Kings and queens and princess and princes and other people who were rich enough to be invited were chatting and clicking their glasses of wine or champagne with one another, all wearing fancy hand-tailored suits and assorted gowns and dresses.
Some people were here to hope to be Tine’s special suitor, some were here just for the party, and some were the people he became friends with over the years. Tine looked over them, wanting nothing more than to leave this party but had no choice to stay because of a certain someone.
(Definitely not his annoying brother.)
“But in all seriousness, Tine.” He hears Fong say as someone from the stage announced that it was time for one of the prince’s performance. At that, Tine stands properly, a smile making its way to his lips, his stomach stirring with a familiar fuzzy feeling when he sees the prince enter the stage. “Why don’t you want to talk to any of the girls?”
Tine ignores him in favor of walking a few steps forward, hoping he’s standing tall enough for the prince to see him, which he did. Their eyes connected in the middle of the enormous ballroom, a spark electrifying in his veins, warming him all over. Tine grins brightly at him, which the prince reciprocated to with a small but soft smile.
Sarawat.
Fong follows Tine’s fascinated gaze, sighing knowingly when he sees him looking at the prince up stage. “Because of Sarawat?”
Obviously. “Yeah.” Tine whispers, low and full of fondness, eyes staring at Sarawat like he’s the stars.
When Tine was fifteen, after breaking up with his girlfriend that time, decided to head out the castle and walk around the town, disguising himself so he wouldn’t be recognized. After moping around and sulking all day, he finally started to walk back home, not before he was rudely bumped into by another boy around his age, causing him to promptly fall on his ass and scrape his hand against the ground. Tine was about to ask the other boy if he was okay, despite the throbbing pain in his hand, but the words dry in his throat when he saw the boy’s features.
He was beautiful.
Doe-like eyes, slightly tanned but flawless skin, a head full of hair that swept over his eyes, and curvy lips that were starkly different from his own. He’s the kind of beautiful that has Tine reeling, completely attracted by first sight alone. He’s the kind of beautiful that didn’t compare to any of the pretty flowers back in the castle, that was so much better than any of the stars his brother was making him learn about. He was too lost in the dizzying feeling that was crawling up in his bones the more he looked at him that he didn’t notice the blood dripping down from the wound on his hand. Thankfully, the boy did.
The boy immediately helped him up, cradling his injured hand gently in his own, scrutinizing it with a frown on his beautiful lips. Tine remembers, hazily, that the boy wasted no time in dragging him through the crowded streets, searching for a first aid kit. They eventually found one, and Tine remembers the boy sitting him down as he gently started to wipe the dirt away on his hand, disinfecting it right after, which he then wraps up with a bandage. Although sloppy, it was still a heartfelt gesture that the boy had kindly given him.
Tine wanted to hang out with him more, possibly know his name, but it was nearing nighttime and he knows that Type will worry about him not being at home. So, instead, Tine tells the boy his name before quickly parting with him, though sadly. He remembers not being able to get the boy’s face out his mind for the whole night, blushing and turning in his bed, the memory of the boy biting his lip while he focused on cleaning up his wound deeply planted into his memory. He really wanted to meet him again, so he stayed up all night to hatch an intricate plan to go out the next day to see him again, possibly.
(Turns out, he didn’t have to do that at all. He stares, mouth agape, eyes wide, as Type introduced him to the Guntithanon family, who were royals like they were and how they had formed a new alliance together. He stares dumbly, surprised and shocked, while the boy who bumped into him yesterday gave him a curt bow, a small smirk on his lips, his head tilting innocently at the side. “Why, I am pleased to be graced with your presence, your highness. Your name is Tine, is it not?”)
(Tine couldn’t help himself from blushing madly as Type looked at the two of them in confusion, wondering how the prince knew his brother’s name without him even saying it yet.)
Later on, Tine found out that the boy’s name is Sarawat. He’s fifteen, like Tine, and just arrived in their kingdom yesterday afternoon. The reason he bumped into him was because he was running away from his chauffeur to explore the city because he knew he wouldn’t be granted permission if he asked, and that’s how they managed to meet.
Tine watches, his heart pounding in his chest, as a soft and slow tune filled the room, an obvious sign that the song Sarawat will be singing is a love one. Tine, mesmerized, trails his eyes all over Sarawat’s appearance, the white suit adorning his body tailored just right, making him look more fancy, more fashionable, which he rarely looks like because he doesn’t really care about his looks or how he presents himself. His hair was slicked back, styled with gel that makes it look even more soft and shiny in the glowing light. Amidst of everything, Sarawat stood out more so than all the people he was with on stage, in the whole room.
Tine breathes out a shaky exhale. He’s perfect, in every way possible.
Sarawat gave the band behind him a smile and a nod at each one of them, before turning to look back at the crowd, opening his mouth to sing.
“You’re in my arms
And all the world is calm
The music playing on
For only two
So close, together
And when I’m with you
So close
To feeling alive.”
The large room grew quiet, and the only thing filling up the room was the notes being played delicately in the air. The melody was beautiful; a compelling harmony along with Sarawat’s soft voice that silenced hundreds of people and made it hard for them to look away. It was... fascinating, captivating, almost. Sarawat had hypnotized and enthralled everyone in the room, and Tine is not ashamed to say that he’s one of them.
He hears Fong asking something behind him, but he couldn’t bring himself to answer as his heart started to race, picking up as the gorgeous man on stage continued to sing, looking handsome while he did, making the other princesses and ladies in the room swoon with his clear and smooth voice.
“A life goes by
Romantic dreams must die
So I bid mine goodbye
And never knew
So close, was waiting
Waiting here with you
And now, forever, I know
All that I wanted
To hold you so close.”
Tine knows the song wasn’t for him; he knows that the song was just given to Sarawat to perform to please all the guests. He knows that there’s no way something so beautiful would be for him. He knows, but god damn it, he can’t help but gaze in amazement, his heart thundering in his ears, thinking that Sarawat was singing the song just for him– that no one else was around and that they’re the only two people in the room.
It’s too good to be true, Tine knows, but with the way Sarawat’s eyes had found his once more, in the middle of the crowded room, an unexplainable emotion crossing over his features– he thinks it isn’t such an impossible thought after all.
“So close to reaching
That famous happy end
Almost believing
This one’s not pretend and
Now you’re beside me
And look how far we’ve come
So far, we are
So close.”
Tine feels himself go breathless with every second that passes with Sarawat’s gaze connected with his, refusing to look anywhere else. Tine swallows a lump in his throat, his mouth running dry, a clenching pain throbbing in his heart the longer he stares deep into Sarawat’s eyes.
He wants to go up there, wants to run his fingers in that combed hair, wants to kiss those pretty lips and ignore everyone else while at it. He wants to do everything and nothing at all, frustrating his insides for letting himself think that way, and for actually hoping for something so ridiculous.
Sarawat sung the next few lines, eyes never straying from Tine’s, making him feel like the most luckiest person in the room for having Sarawat’s attention on him, something the girls near the stage couldn’t seem to have. He’s proud of that fact, that even though Tine is pretty enchanted by Sarawat and his ability, Sarawat was even worse; always only looking at Tine and no one else.
But Tine knows that Sarawat deserves so much better than him, better than anything else Tine could possibly offer him.
Insecurity gnaws away in his mind, reminding him once again of how unworthy he is of Sarawat’s gaze, of his affections. He feels guilt consume him, for being selfish, for being unbearably insensitive when he doesn’t have the right to.
He turns, wanting nothing more than to leave the place. Everything felt so tight– the room, the walls, his heart– and he doesn’t think he can handle being here. A sudden burst of claustrophobia twisted in his chest, making him walk faster towards the exit doors. Before he could reach them, however, a strong hand clasped over his wrist, and Tine looks up to see that it belonged to Fong, who had a concerned expression on his face. “Are you okay?”
Tine gives him an assuring smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I’m fine.”
“Tine,” Fong says desperately, eyes searching in his own. Tine wonders what he’s looking for. “If this is about Sarawat–”
Tine’s heart immediately twisted at the mention of his name, tears pooling up in his eyes, quickly shaking his head to stop the sentence from going any further. Fong shut his mouth, eyes still laced with concern.
“I need to go.” Tine whispers, quietly with a slight crack in the end. Fong hesitated for a moment before he lets go of his grip on his wrist. Tine gives him a grateful smile before promptly exiting the ballroom, leaving behind a lingering smoke of sadness, a pair of eyes across the other side of the large room trailing after him in confusion and sorrow.
“Why did you leave?”
Tine sighs when he hears the familiar smooth voice fill in the silence of the cold night.
After Tine left the ballroom, all he wanted to do was to cool down from all the varying emotions that were clouding his mind. He walked around the castle walls for a while, but the feeling of suffocation stayed with him the more he stays trapped inside. So he decided to go to the next best place he could think of; the garden.
Ever since he was a kid, he’s always had a strange pull towards the garden outside the castle. He doesn’t know if it’s because it was his late mother’s favorite place to be, or because of the stories Type tells him about Tine being birthed here because their mother couldn’t get to the royal clinic in time, or just because the well in the middle of all the greenery was named after him because of how much his mother loves him. Everyone close to him knows how much he spends his free time here– reading, studying, listening to music, or just admiring the beautiful plants that were very much taken care of by the gardeners.
He doesn’t really know why this place attracts him so much. There weren’t any pretty flowers here, and the plants only looked gorgeous because of the gardeners’ daily trimming and cutting to make it that way. There wasn’t anything here that made the site so special, mainly because no one ever pays attention to the garden in the first place, and the only thing that holds value to Tine here is the well that had his name in a gold plaque. But even that doesn’t mean much to Tine because he never really got to know his mother that much (since she died when he was just three years-old) and he only came here to give this place some sort of sentimental meaning to give justice to her because he knows how much she means to his brother, who got to grew up with her motherly care and warmth.
He was in no way jealous of his brother, by the way. He’s perfectly content with the life he grew up having; surrounded by friends who became family to him just as much as him to them, no parents but a strict and overly caring brother who loves him very much. Type is the reason he was shaped into the man he was today– and he’s glad to have him as his older brother, though he will never admit it out loud.
And maybe that’s why he’s so intrigued to the garden. Because whenever his brother would see him wandering around here, a small smile on his face would appear; one of softness and nostalgia, probably remembering all of the memories he had with their parents here before they both died in a terrible plane crash while coming back to their kingdom. So he comes here nearly everyday, just to see happiness fill up his brother’s eyes, because he knows how depressed he had been to take on the role of the king at an early age. It made him give Type a sense of relief whenever he’d talk about their parents in a way that wasn’t heavy with grief.
No one knows about his intentions on why he hangs out here so much, mainly because he keeps it locked somewhere deep in his heart. But as the years go by, he grew to genuinely enjoy the peace the garden brought him. It gave him solace, comfort– a safe place he knew he’d get to relax his body after a particularly hard or tiring day. This place was his reprieve, his shelter from the word, a refuge no one gets to have but him.
Well, him and another person that also shares his perspective of this place being a sanctuary.
Sarawat.
Tine drags his fingers on the bricks of the well he was standing closely to, staring at his reflection on the water before turning around, facing the aforementioned man a few steps away from him; looking as gorgeous as ever like he was when Tine saw him on stage.
His eyebrows were creased in worry, a frown decorating his beautiful lips, his hair looking disheveled but also managing to look proper at the same time.
Gosh. Tine didn’t even care that Sarawat spoke in that slightly angry tone because he’s too captivated by his overall appearance and how he makes his heart pound harder, a rhythm he’s very well familiar with but can never really get used to.
“Tine,” Sarawat says, Tine’s heart skipping a beat at the way he says it– with a strange tone of fondness and a tinge of exasperation. “Why did you leave? I was just about to sing your favorite song.”
A swell of affection bursted in Tine’s chest, making him scold himself internally. If he stayed for a little while longer, he could’ve heard more of Sarawat’s lovely voice singing the song he loves and he hates himself for missing that– for being too caught up in his emotions that he had no choice but to leave. Tine mustered up a smile, not quite fake because he’s always managed to be honest whenever he’s with Sarawat, but not quite real either. It was empty, and for some reason, it was harder to hold this broken smile than any other weight he has ever carried before. “It hurt too much to look at you.”
It was true. The longer Tine stared at him on that stage, performing a song for the whole audience, the guilt and stabs of pain through his heart was almost too much for him to bear. How could he not be guilty when he’s lying to almost everyone around him– lying to his own brother, his friends, the whole world?
Sarawat’s gaze grew soft, the worry etching in the middle of his eyebrows smoothening out. “Oh, Tine.” He whispers, stepping closer to him. “Come here.”
He held his arms out for a hug, which Tine knows he probably needs right now. Tine sighs and went up to him, wrapping his arms around his middle as he let his head fall on Sarawat’s shoulder. He feels warm as Sarawat wraps his own arms around him protectively, almost as if securing him from any other dangers of the world around them. He inhales Sarawat’s unique and musky scent, an overfamiliar calmness washing over him from the other’s smell. They’d done this multiple times before, hugged every time they’re alone, but god, Tine will never get used to the comfort the boy would bring him whenever they’re both engulfed with the other’s body, their arms fitting just right in the curves of each other.
Tine hugs him tighter, relishing every touch Sarawat would rub up and down on his back, attempting to soothe him from the tension in his muscles and the stress in his mind. Even like this, with no words spoken at all, Sarawat knew exactly how to calm Tine’s nerves, knowing his insecurities like the back of his hand, always easing him back to the light whenever his thoughts would pull him into a void of restlessness and fear.
They stay like that for a while– hugging in the garden while the stars and moon above shone on top of them. Tine couldn’t hear anything else– not the party, not the chatter of the people, not any of whatever music that would be playing because Sarawat wasn’t performing anymore– but what he can only hear is the rustles of the leaves around them, a cricketing noise in the distance, and his and Sarawat’s even breathing in the air. It was enough to quiet down the voices in his mind for a while.
“Better now?” He hears Sarawat murmur in his ear. Tine nods, his face still buried in his shoulder, refusing to show his face and the stinging tears he knows are there in his eyes. He knows Sarawat doesn’t like it when Tine cries. Tine knows that when he sees him crying, he’ll start to feel sad and Tine doesn’t like it when Sarawat’s sad.
“Tine, look at me.”
Tine furiously shakes his head, petulant and stubborn. He won’t let him see his tears. He won’t let him see him cry. Sarawat was already comforting him, the least Tine could do was force his tears back inside so Sarawat wouldn’t be sad when he sees them–
“Tine, please.”
Tine swallows a lump in his throat at Sarawat’s plea. He normally doesn’t beg. Between the two of them, only Tine would be the one asking him to do stuff for him, which Sarawat doesn’t complain to and gladly does with a small, fond smile on his lips. It was rare of Sarawat to ask something of him, and he doesn’t get that at all because he should know that Tine would do anything for him in return for all that he’d done for him the last few years.
So, even though he doesn’t want to, he slowly leans away from his shoulder, his gaze directed on the ground. He feels Sarawat’s hand on his cheek, the other gently holding his chin and lifting it up to meet his eyes. He hasn’t even focused properly on his face before Sarawat connects their lips together, pressing a light pressure against his mouth.
Tine immediately melts into the kiss, grasping Sarawat’s coat tightly at the familiar sensation. His heartbeat quickened the more he feels the curve of Sarawat’s cupid’s bow against his mouth, their lips slotting perfectly like the thousands of times they’d done this before. Tine kisses him back insistently, whining at the slow way Sarawat was kissing him with. He hasn’t seen or kissed him in days, damn it. Sarawat’s always been practicing for his performance and Tine’s been busy with being constantly measured for his suit. He wants more.
Tine didn’t even realize he was walking backwards until he feels his lower back hitting the well behind him. He yelps at the contact, and Sarawat wasted no time to shove his tongue in, kissing him more roughly, tongue rolling over his own. Tine moans, bringing his arms up to wrap them around Sarawat’s neck, pulling him closer because he’s not close enough. Nothing is enough, to be honest. He’s eager, needy, wanting more and more because he misses Sarawat’s lips. He misses Sarawat’s warmth. He misses Sarawat’s electrifying touches on his skin, the way he’d soothe his fingers down his back that makes him shiver every time.
He misses being able to do this with him because frankly, they don’t get to do it enough.
Sarawat’s tongue battled for dominance over his own, aggressively pushing his mouth enough to bruise. His hands– his skillful, talented, gifted hands– trailed down his neck, brushing fleeting and intoxicating touches on his shoulders, strokes that has Tine feeling like jelly but also making him feel fiery, hands reaching up Sarawat’s slick hair, his fingers digging into his scalp, enticing a low groan from the back of Sarawat’s throat and gosh, Tine honestly wants to hear more of that. He uses Sarawat’s momentary distraction to suck on his tongue, massaging the underside of it with his own, their saliva deliciously merging together– champagne and strawberries mixing along with their breaths.
Tine knows he has the upper hand now; his mouth was way more assertive, his tongue demanding and forceful, and his grip on Sarawat’s hair was getting tighter as he tasted more of him, his depravity for the past couple days being quenched with the delightful sensations of Sarawat’s mouth and scent. He has the upper hand, at least he thought he did before Sarawat drags his hands lower, pushing his coat open wide– slightly falling off his shoulders– and sprawled his hands on his chest, groping it harshly that it made Tine gasp from the pressure.
Sarawat smirks against his lips, clearly knowing he’s won because of his strange obsession with his chest (or boobs, as Sarawat would like to call it, which Tine doesn’t like at all). They both pulled back, their lips separating with a wet pop, a string of saliva connecting their parted mouths. Both of them panted heavily after what felt like the most intense make-out session they’d ever had, breaths coming out in short huffs. Tine closes his eyes as Sarawat presses his forehead against his own, his fingers still tracing the lines of his pecs. “Tine.”
Tine hums, gently playing with the velvety locks of Sarawat’s hair, just being close to him, letting himself inhale each of Sarawat’s breath and scent. Tine indulges himself a little more, pleasuring himself in the moment because who knows when’ll be the next time they get to be with each other like this? Who knows if they’ll still get to have moments like this when they both eventually return to the ball, splitting apart like they’re not the most important beings in each other’s lives?
Who knows how long Tine will still get to be held by Sarawat before he gets bored of him?
“Tine, you know I love you, right?” Sarawat reminds softly. Tine opens his mouth, his breath stopping in his throat when he sees the passionate look in his eyes; the emotion, the fire, the familiar feelings Tine knows that he also holds for the other boy is all-too encompassing in his eyes, a squeeze and a stab going through Tine’s heart at the deep and sincere gaze.
“I know.” Tine mutters. He does know, if their four-year long relationship is any proof.
Here’s the thing; Tine and Sarawat are actually dating.
They started going out with each other when they were both fifteen. They were playing and having fun in the garden, Tine laughing his ass off when Sarawat had tripped on a plant. He offered his hand to him, a playful smile on his face as he waited for Sarawat to take it. But Sarawat was in a daze; looking up at Tine with his blank but repeatedly blinking eyes, his hair sweeping over his brows, his mouth parted like he had made a mind-blowing realization. Tine was about to say that he won’t help him up if he doesn’t take his hand, but Sarawat just tilts his head to the side, a clear look of innocence on his face before saying, “I like you, Tine.”
Luckily for Sarawat, Tine also likes him back.
Their relationship was fairly new that time; both just testing out the waters and handling each other’s feelings delicately. They first kept it a secret from everyone, just in case if anything would go wrong or if dating each other would become too awkward that they’d rather stay as friends instead.
That never happened.
Eventually, the days they spent together turned the months that passed by into a year– their feelings just growing more and more stronger. By the time both of them were sixteen, they had fallen head over heals for one another. Sarawat always tells him how much he loves his smile, and Tine is completely smitten with Sarawat’s skill of playing the guitar. Tine never thought that there would be someone so perfect for him, and how he also complements Sarawat in every way, and how it seems like they were both made for each other.
They were about to come out about their relationship to everyone, actually. But it was always so hard. Every single day, they did better and better to hide their feelings around each other, sneaked in multiple rooms all over the castle, and overall just got good in not revealing their relationship. It became natural for them to do that. They always promised one another that they’d come out the next day, or the next, but it never comes.
Tine always feels guilty, though. It’s not like he wants to keep what they have a secret, but the thought of revealing to the whole world of their relationship gets Tine... scared. Not for himself, but for Sarawat.
Tine doesn’t care if he gets attacked or whatever Sarawat’s fans say about him if they come out, but Tine is scared for whatever happens to Sarawat if they do. He doesn’t want reporters to speak badly of him, or to harass him like all of the people Tine has dated before. If that would happen, Tine would rather just break up with him or keep their relationship a secret forever.
Sarawat would always be patient to him, even though Tine knows how much he hates hiding secrets. He’s always so good to him, something Tine honestly doesn’t deserve. He doesn’t deserve seeing Sarawat’s secret smiles, or his sincere affections, or his amazing kisses. Sarawat deserves someone who will be proud to shout their relationship to the whole world, unlike Tine– who’s confused and scared of what the outcome will be if they decide to do that.
“Then why was it painful for you to look at me?” Sarawat asks gently, his hands dragging down and landing on his waist. Tine tries not to melt at how perfect his hands fit at the spot.
“I feel guilty.” Tine admits quietly, his fingers nervously twirling a strand of Sarawat’s hair. “You looked so excellent up there and... and it made me think how you deserve more–”
“Stop.”
“But it’s true, you know it’s true–”
“Tine.” Sarawat begs. Tine instantly shuts his mouth. “Stop. I love you, okay? I don’t want anyone else, nor do I deserve them, but I do need you. Tine, I don’t know if I’ve ever told you this, but when I first met you, I just knew what love is.”
Tine inhales a sharp breath, looking deeply into Sarawat’s adamant gaze, trying to find some sort of lie underneath all that passion and emotion and love he sees there.
He finds none.
“Tine, I know you’re still scared, but I want you to know that I don’t care whether we keep our relationship a secret or not.” Sarawat assures, filling Tine’s eyes up with tears by how intense he says the words. Gosh, Tine doesn’t deserve him. “I’m okay with what we have, and I’ll always be okay just as long as I’m with you.”
Shit.
“You’re making me cry, Wat.” Tine mumbles, trying his best to hold back a choked sob. Sarawat smiles at him and brings his hand up, catching the stray tear that trails down Tine’s cheek. Tine leans into Sarawat’s palm, having grown accustomed to the warmth it brings him. Sarawat presses a soft kiss on his lips, making Tine’s heart skip a beat at the tenderness.
“If it’s because you realized that I’m not going anywhere, then go ahead and keep crying.” Sarawat smirks, topping it off with a wink.
A laugh bubbled in Tine’s throat, sounding strangled and clogged up. This idiot, really. Tine really doesn’t know what he’d do without Sarawat’s dumb lines and flirty attitude.
“But seriously, stop crying.” Sarawat whispers, his smirk melting to a small smile. He brushes his thumb on the corner of his mouth, tugging it upwards. “You’re much more beautiful when you’re smiling.”
Tine laughed harder, his heartbeat quickening, too lost in his laughter that he didn’t notice how Sarawat gazes at him, with softness and pure love shining through his features, eyes firmly trained on Tine’s happy smile.
It was nice, being like this. It was like they were the only two people in the world, like their love wasn’t a secret and that they didn’t have their statuses, or their wealth– just each other. And at that moment, at that moment of crystal clarity and clearness, Tine realized that he’s tired. He’s tired of hiding, of not being able to kiss Sarawat openly, of not being able to say that he loves him because he does. He loves Sarawat so damn much, and he wants nothing more than have him for life, forever.
Tine stopped laughing, glancing down nervously. “Wat...”
Sarawat hums, his other hand circling comforting touches on his waist.
“I don’t want you to get bored of me.” Tine whispers. He doesn’t. He really doesn’t.
Sarawat softens. He then takes Tine’s right hand in his left one, putting a gentle kiss on his fingers. “Do you see this, Tine?” Of course Tine sees it– it’s the matching tattoos they have on both their ring fingers.
When Sarawat and Tine turned seventeen, they both decided a simple and clever way to showcase their love without anyone else noticing it. They both had a little tattoo on their ring fingers– Tine’s on his right and Sarawat on his left– that signified a ring. Both their designs were the same; musical notes attached together in an intricate manner, making it beautiful and more gorgeous with all the complex and tangled lines of ink on their skin. They can easily cover this up when needed, but at night when they’re both alone in Tine’s room, they can’t help but stare at their intertwined fingers in wonder, their matching black rings shining in the moonlight.
“I see it.” Tine answers, low and quiet. He feels more tears sting his eyes.
“This,” Sarawat gestures, holding up the tattooed finger to his face. “Is not going away, and so will my love for you. I’m not leaving, Tine. What we have isn’t temporary, okay? I’ll always be beside you, no matter what, and you should better make yourself cozy ‘cause I plan to be that way for a long, long time.”
Damn Sarawat knowing exactly what to say.
Tine kissed him again because he’s not good in words, not good in saying how much he wants that as well. But he hopes Sarawat can tell, from the way he passionately kisses him, from the way he pulls him closer and closer, that he knows that their love is permanent. And from the way Sarawat kisses him back, just as passionately, he thinks he already knows.
“And why would I be bored of you?” Sarawat mumbles through his lips. He smirks that mischievous smirk, something Tine knows all too well that he’s going to say something embarrassing. “I’m already coming up with the names of our kids and planning their college fund–”
“S-Shut up, Saraleo!”
Afterwards, there was another reason why Tine liked going to the garden. It wasn’t because of his mother, or the history of this place, or his brother– but the thing that makes the garden so special is because that’s where Tine finally decided to be brave enough to come out to the whole world about his and Sarawat’s relationship.
(They were all very supportive of them. And Tine’s slight suspicion of Fong knowing turns out to be true because Fong only smirks at them as he claps along with the others. Tine wonders how long he knew about them. Was it when he got the tattoo, or much longer than that?)
(They got married quickly– after three years. The countries rejoiced, but there were still some assholes who couldn’t accept them. But that’s fine because Tine honestly doesn’t care about them anymore. In the next six more years, Type had finally stepped down to hand over the throne to Tine; who swore to rule the country just as great as he did. Type immediately went off in a honeymoon with his husband, Man, in another country as soon as Tine’s coronation was over.)
(And in the ten years of being happily married to someone who holds his heart, Tine finally lets himself love Sarawat openly and freely. Sarawat did keep his promise, after all.)
(He did not get bored of him.)