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Fighter leaned against the wall, glaring at anyone who dared to look at him. Of course he’d known about the meeting for weeks but he never thought it would turn out like this . He’d initially decided to avoid going to the meeting but unfortunately, Dew had found him in the nick of time and dragged him to the hall that was currently filling with engineering students.
It was their last meeting for the freshmen and Fighter couldn’t wait to get this over with so he could go home. He was already exhausted from the lack of sleep after the whole… ordeal with Tutor and he didn’t want to deal with the heartbreak that would cloud his mind the second Tutor walked into the hall. Adjusting to life without him was already difficult enough. Fighter was certain that if he saw Tutor again he would break down and that was something he’d rather avoid.
Fighter couldn’t blame Tutor though. He’d wanted too much too fast and it hadn’t worked out in his favour. Fighter hadn’t seen that at first but after the rather shameful event in Tutor’s condo it was clear as day — Tutor didn’t want him anymore. He didn’t love him anymore.
Oh God , Fighter wanted nothing more than to take back his actions from that day. He’d hurt Tutor and done something he’d vowed to himself never to do. To anyone. Just thinking about it was enough to make Fighter want to sink through the soil beneath his feet. It had all happened in the spur of the moment but now it was something Fighter would never forget. He was sure that Tutor would never forgive him and he didn’t want his forgiveness, to be honest. Fighter actually hoped that Tutor would never forgive him for what he’d done.
As Fighter was wallowing in pity and self-loathing Tutor entered the hall with Saifah and Day, joining the mass of second year students that leaned against the walls of the hall. Fighter’s first instinct was to flee the hall as fast as he could, however Dew was keeping a close eye on him to make sure he didn’t leave. So instead, Fighter eyed Tutor from head to toe. His hair was unusually unkept and his complexion was a greyish hue. From what Fighter could see Tutor had dark circles beneath his eyes which was really odd.
A million thoughts raced through Fighter’s head. Why would Tutor look this way? Why did he look like he was falling apart when Fighter was the one who was dumped? Shouldn’t he look like it was one of the best days in his life — like everything was sunshine and nothing could bring him down? After all, he didn’t have Fighter following him around like a lost puppy anymore. Tutor should be celebrating his freedom but instead he looks like that. He was still heartachingly beautiful, Fighter noted.
Tutor’s eyes searched the room until they landed on Fighter. Now Fighter wanted nothing more than ever to sink through the ground. The senior turned away, shoulders hunched. He’d done enough crying these past few days in the comfort of his own room and there was no way he was going to break down in front of his juniors.
And especially Tutor , his mind supplied.
Fortunately the head hazer took the wheel and began speaking, tearing Fighter away from his wallowing. Un fortunately all the words that came out of his friend’s mouth went in one ear and out the other. Fighter couldn’t focus. He was vaguely aware of Tutor’s eyes darting to him once in awhile. Fighter squeezed his eyes shut, pushing away the burn of tears that was building behind his eyelids and threatening to spill.
He let out a shaky breath — he couldn’t do this anymore. Fighter had to leave before he actually broke down, screw what his seniors and juniors thought.
Just as Fighter was about to make his way towards the exit he saw Tutor collapse out of the corner of his eye. Surprised and concerned gasps echoed through the hall and any thoughts Fighter had on leaving quickly flew out the window. Without thinking he leapt off the stage and into the crowd of confused students. He pushed them out of his way until he reached the second years who where crowding Fighter’s ex. He barely had time to think about how the word “ex” stung deep in his heart before he fell to his knees, helping Saifah and Day with Tutor.
“P’Fight?” Saifah sounded baffled.
Fighter ignored him in favor of slinging Tutor’s arm around his shoulders and snaking his arm around his junior’s waist. He pulled him up.
“What happened?” he asked, a little out of breath.
“We have no idea,” Day said, wiping sweat from his forehead. “He’s been like this for a week and he refuses to tell us what it’s about.”
I think I might have an idea what it’s about, Fighter’s subconscious supplied. Shut up, he scolded himself. Now was not the time.
“P’Fight?” came Tutor’s voice, weak with fatigue.
Fighter rubbed calm circles on the small of Tutor’s back before turning back to Saifah and Day.
“I think he might have a cold,” he said and started to make their way toward the exit. “I’ll take him back to his place.”
“P’Fight do you know where his condo is—” Saifah started but the pair had already made their way out of the hall, leaving confused engineering students behind them.
Day slid up to Saifah’s side as they watched the two leave. “Do you think something’s going on with them?” he asked.
“I have no idea,” was Saifah’s answer before the head hazer demanded their attention again.
They had barely left for Fighter’s car when Tutor started struggling against him. Tutor’s protests didn’t go unnoticed by Fighter but he chose to ignore them anyway. Tutor wasn’t feeling well and even though things weren't the best between them Fighter felt obligated to take care of him until he felt better. Eventually they made it to Fighter’s car.
“P’Fight,” Tutor said, voice raspy. “Let go.”
Fighter did as he was told and let Tutor go. Despite their current predicament Fighter flicked Tutor softly on the head. “Can you stop doing things like this? You don’t look well. Don’t you get that you have to take care of yourself?”
Tutor’s eyes roamed his as the senior scolded him. Fighter settled his hand against Tutor’s forehead, feeling his junior’s rising temperature beneath his palm. His fingers stiffened when Tutor flinched away from his touch. Fighter tried to not let that get to him but it still stung.
“You’re burning up, Tutor,” he softly said.
Tutor shook his head. “I’m not. I just got some sun.”
Fighter knew that Tutor was lying. He slowly exhaled through his nose. He understood that Tutor didn’t want to be around him, but did he have to be so incredibly stubborn all the time. Fighter told him such:
“Look, can you stop being so stubborn?” he said, an unimpressed expression on his face.
Silence settled around them (if you didn’t count the buzz of Bangkok traffic around them). Eventually Tutor said: “I’m going back to my condo,” but Fighter’s hand softly closed around his upper arm before he could take a step, holding him back.
“I’ll drive you there then,” he insisted. “I’m begging you Tor. Let me take care of you until you get better.”
His tone was remarkably pleading and vulnerable. Fighter hated it. However he couldn’t bring himself to care that much at the moment.
“Maybe only for today,” he added. “Please?”
Tutor seemed hesitant at first but eventually he nodded.
Fighter flashed him a small, private smile and opened the car door for him. “Let’s go.”
The car ride to Tutor’s condo was quiet but the silence wasn’t awkward. Some cheesy love song was playing on the radio and the air-condition hummed in the background.
Fighter’s stomach bubbled with a mix of excitement and dread. He felt as if something familiar was being past between them however he couldn’t put his finger on it. Fighter didn’t want to but he hoped that this meant something for the other too, because it meant a great deal to him.
Sometimes he would glance at Tutor out of the corner of his eyes to see a small smile play on his lips.
Strange .
They stopped at the pharmacy on the way to get some medicine and then at the supermarket to buy congee for Tutor.
When they finally arrived at the condo, Fighter helped his junior out of the car and to the elevator. Tutor had to be really sick because he clung to Fighter’s upper arm, nails digging into the dark blue fabric of his shirt.
Once they made it inside Tutor’s condo, Fighter guided his junior to his bed. When he was sure Tutor was comfortable beneath the duvet Fighter headed to the kitchen to put the now cold congee in the fridge. Then he started looking through the cabinets for some kind of basin or bowl. After finding one to his liking he started filling it with cold water.
Fighter moved automatically around Tutor’s condo in search of a towel. Not much had changed since he was there last. The only remarkable thing was that the apartment was kind of messy. A lot of things weren’t in their usual spot and were instead thrown about around the small space. Maybe Tutor hadn’t had time to clean? Maybe he hadn’t cared about how it looked? Fighter wouldn’t know. It wasn’t his place anymore.
Fighter filled a glass of water for Tutor instead of giving into the depressing thoughts. Fighter noted that his junior seemed to be asleep when he started moving the things into Tutor’s bedroom. The glass of water and medicine found its place on Tutor’s bedside table but Fighter had to walk a second time for the basin and wet towel.
Fighter tiptoed back to Tutor’s bedside. His junior looked so peaceful.
And beautiful , his mind teased.
Fighter shoved the thought into the very back of his head as he sat down next to Tutor, being careful not to spill any of the water on Tutor’s bedspread as he made himself comfortable. He leaned over Tutor, snaking his arms around his junior’s back and legs. The motion woke Tutor up. He seemed to understand what Fighter was trying to do and heaved himself further up the mattress. Fighter grabbed a pillow and stationed it behind Tutor’s head.
He reached over to the bedside table and grabbed the glass of water and the medicine. Fighter watched Tutor take it and swallow it down with the water before setting the glass back on the wooden table. Fighter leaned back to grab the basin and towel.
“P’Fight what are you doing?” Tutor asked, brown eyes searching his.
“I’m gonna try to reduce your fever,” Fighter simply said.
He carefully squeezed out the resisting water and folded the towel a couple of times before softly taking Tutor’s arm. Fighter worked in silence, casually glancing up now and then to check on his junior. Tutor sat in silence and stared at his senior with a look that Fighter could only decipher as wonder and something like admiration, which was not a look you were supposed to give someone you claimed you didn’t love. It made it all very confusing to Fighter but at the same time it was intimidating but familiar and safe to have Tutor’s unyielding attention on him.
Fighter decided to move on from Tutor’s arms to his chest however one of Tutor’s stubborn limbs decided that the position it had on Fighter’s knee was far too good of a spot to abandon. Fighter leaned in closer to his junior. “Stay still and I’ll take care of it.”
Tutor hummed, letting Fighter unbutton his grey shirt and exposing a good part of his chest. Fighter’s mind went numb for a second. He had to wet the towel once more and when he’d squeezed out the remaining water he let the towel follow its own way across Tutor’s exposed chest, the other drawing in a shaky breath when the cold towel met his feverish body.
This is nice. This feels like us , Fighter thought wholeheartedly but he was quickly scolded by his head, because there was no more “us”.
His heart ached in his chest. Being this close to Tutor was emotionally suffocating. He could see him but not touch him. Well not that Fighter wasn’t touching him (because he was currently physically touching him) but it wasn’t the same as this was only for today. Fighter was sure that Tutor would continue ignoring him when he was healthy again. Fighter supposes he’ll have to accept it eventually. He just didn’t expect to have to accept it so soon.
As Fighter pulled himself out of the deep depths of despair, the towel trekked to the muscle where Tutor’s heart laid beneath. Tutor’s heart started beating more rapidly than usual when he did such. Fighter couldn’t help himself when he inched closer to Tutor’s chest, eventually laying his head against it. Fighter’s own heartbeat started increasing as well from the sound of Tutor’s.
Fighter pulled his head away, brown eyes glancing up to meet Tutors’. “Your heart is beating really fast,” he stated.
Fighter couldn’t really read the look Tutor had on his face. His eyes were wide open but he didn’t smile. It was as if he were to say something along the lines of: “Yeah, I know.”
He’s so cute , Fighter’s heart told his brain.
He searched for his junior’s hand before he could think better of it and pulled him closer, settling Tutor’s hand against his heart.
“My heart is beating really fast too,” he said, voice barely above a whisper.
The corners of Tutor’s mouth pulled up slightly, eyes crinkling at the edges as well. Fighter swallowed. No one could beat Tutor when it came down to it, because his junior had one of the most beautiful smiles Fighter had ever seen.
Fighter tried to convey everything he was feeling through his eyes as his heart glowed.
I love you , he thought, eyes darting all over Tutor’s face. I love you so much, can’t you see that? I love you so much that my heart aches just from being away from you. My heart physically hurts by being so close to you, yet so far away at the same time. I love you. I love you, Tutor.
Fighter pulled away Tutor’s hand, gently guiding it to the side. When the older tried to pull away his hand, the younger held tightly onto it. Not tight enough to hurt or anything but enough to keep Fighter’s hand in place.
“Comfortable?” the older asked.
The warm look Tutor sent him was enough of an answer for Fighter to leave the topic.
“You should rest,” he said as he pulled his hand away.
Tutor however didn’t seem fond of the idea. When Fighter was about to draw back Tutor’s hand flew out and captured Fighter’s arm.
“P’Fight,” his voice was almost pleading. “P’Fight, can you not go yet?”
When Tutor’s eyes grew to the size of tennis balls and he displayed a small pout, Fighter knew he was a lost cause. How the heck did Tutor think that Fighter could say no to him? This couldn’t stop Fighter from smirking, though. He leaned closer, not enough to make either uncomfortable nor too far away that he couldn’t spot the admiration in Tutor’s eyes.
“You missed me, right?” Fighter teased.
He didn’t expect Tutor to regard him with such a fond look in his eyes and he definitely didn’t expect Tutor to smile at him either. Fighter took that as a yes.
“Are you asking for tender loving care?” he continued.
Tutor’s smile got even bigger. He reached over to Fighter, wrapping his arms around his waist.
“P’Fight please stay with me for awhile,” he croaked, voice dripping with exhaustion.
Something warm bloomed in Fighter’s stomach as he wrapped one arm around Tutor’s shoulders and one around his waist, pulling him closer. Tutor’s head came to rest in the crook of Fighter’s neck. He snuggled closer, almost pressing his nose to his senior’s throat. Fighter held Tutor close, nose pressing into his hair. There was just something about the position of their bodies pressing against each other and the smell of Tutor (soap and coconut, Fighter had noticed over the last few weeks) that made him feel very nostalgic. They had held each other like this only a few weeks ago. Fighter was grateful to whatever higher power that was looming over them that he was able to hold Tutor like this for one last time.
A lump formed in his throat when he remembered that this probably was the last time he would be this close to Tutor. He swallowed the lump in his throat and he ignored the tears burning behind his eyelids. He didn’t deserve to hold Tutor like this — not after everything he’d done to him.
Fighter could barely bring himself to think about what he’d done — or almost done — a few days prior. Tutor’s breathing evened out and slowed down.
He wasn’t sure if Tutor was asleep or not but Fighter decided that he would try to apologize anyway. What he’d done was messed up enough as it was and he couldn’t ever begin to imagine how Tutor had felt at the time. He didn’t expect Tutor would forgive him either but Fighter could at least try to atone for his actions.
“Tutor,” Fighter started. “I don’t know if your asleep or not but if you aren’t I just want to apologize for the way I acted a few days ago.”
When he didn’t get an answer from the other he continued on, even as a new lump was forming in his throat. “I was drunk and stupid and I know that that’s not an excuse but I just want you to know that I never wanted to hurt you. I never wanted to do that to you. I don’t think I could live with myself if I did that to anyone, especially you.”
Silent tears escaped him but he made no move to brush them away as the movement would probably have woken Tutor up.
“I know that I’m in no place to ask for your forgiveness — I’m not even sure I want it — but could you try? I know it’s a long shot but if we are to part for the rest of our lives I hope that you move on without my actions holding you back anymore. You deserve at least that.”
Fighter drew a shaky breath as he tried to calm himself.
“You deserve the world, Tutor,” he confessed. “I’ve seen you fall so many times yet get up again. I know that the words may not mean that much to you but I’m proud of you. I’m so proud of you Tutor and I know that you don’t, but I love you.”
The last three words where barely a whisper (more like a breath) however they where still the same. Despite everything, Fighter still loved Tutor. He could’ve sworn there was a hitch in Tutor’s breath at the words but it was most likely Fighter’s mind playing tricks on him.
Fighter wiped away the tears with the back of his hand and held Tutor closer to him, breathing in his scent. The only sound Fighter registered was the heaving of the air-conditioner and the faint sound of traffic outside the thin walls of the apartment.
Eventually Fighter’s eyes started drooping. His breathing evened out, his muscles relaxed and his mind started boarding the line to sleep. He felt some movement from Tutor as the weight of the duvet settled on him.
Fighter thought he heard Tutor whisper: “I’m sorry,” and “I love you too, P’Fight,” and he thought he felt Tutor gently press his lips to Fighter’s forehead, however his eyelids weighed like lead as he was already too lost to the comforting darkness of sleep to open his eyes again. In the end sleep captured him in its arms and pulled him beneath the waves with it.
Buzz.
Buzz.
Fighter was really annoyed at whoever kept texting Tutor in the middle of the night. He hadn’t slept so well in weeks, he realized as he pried his eyes open and the answer to why that was revealed itself in front of him.
Tutor.
Tutor was the reason Fighter had slept so well. Being able to wake up next to Tutor one last time was wonderful and heartbreaking at the same time—
Buzz.
Ugh, Fighter thought and reached over Tutor to grab his phone.
Fighter never meant to actually look at the messages, he really didn’t. He merely meant to turn the device off but when his eyes drifted across the screen and he read his own name he couldn’t help but unlock the phone.
It was incredibly rude and Fighter knew that he was crossing every line as the Line app opened but if it was about him, didn’t he have a right to know what it was about? Besides, what kind of idiot didn’t use a code on his phone?
Fighter felt bad for thinking about Tutor in that way but the thought quickly washed away as the chat exposed itself to him.
The message was from Zon.
Zon (08:37 PM)
How are you Tutor?
Zon (08:38 PM)
Saifah told me you’re sick. You’re worried about P’Fight, right?
There it was.
Zon (08:40 PM)
Can I suggest something?
Fighter heaved himself up toward the headboard and held his weight with his elbow while he waited for the three dots to disappear and be replaced with actual words.
And then the ball dropped.
Zon (08:41 PM)
I think you should talk to P’Fight about his dad. There has to be another way.
Fighter’s dad was involved? Things finally started to fall into place. Dread settled in Fighter’s gut.
He threw Tutor a last glance before he pushed away the covers and got up, dialing Zon’s number in the process. He closed Tutor’s bedroom door quietly behind him just as Zon picked up on the other side.
“Tutor?”
“Zon,” Fighter tried his best to even out his voice and not show his junior how shaken he actually was.
“P’Fight?”
“Zon,” Fighter repeated. “I need you to tell me how my father and Tutor are connected.”