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The day after Team’s last exam as a second year is rainwater rushing through a gutter. He lets the day happen, barely contributing to it past a nod or a word here and there. He scarfs down lunch in half the time he usually takes just so he can put his head on Win’s shoulder and close his eyes. He hears the teasing, but he just grunts and turns his face more fully against the fabric of Win’s warm school shirt.
Win says nothing either. He just switches the hand he’s eating with, presumably to jostle Team’s head less, and when conversation resumes, the fingers of his newly freed hand sift gently through the back of Team’s hair. Team feels Win’s fingertips catch on the sweat beaded on his scalp and enjoys the intimacy of the brief neck massage that follows. What Win’s doing isn’t subtle by any means, but no one takes up the teasing torch again.
It’s balmy, the day is only half finished, and Team’s brain feels like a deflated balloon that was filled too fast and almost past its capacity.
Win’s classes are over, but Team has one left, and as they reach the perimeter of the canteen, Team takes hold of Win’s sleeve and sulks at him.
Win smiles, hooks his finger inside Team’s open shirt, and tugs him down for a kiss to the forehead.
“Attempt consciousness,” Win says.
Team half-grunts, expanding the vocabulary of his new language.
He doesn’t learn a thing in his next class, and in fact, he hardly knows what it is he’s supposed to be learning.
He’s not thinking at all, in the traditional sense. Instead, he’s captivated by the wall next to his desk and how if it weren’t there, he’d be able to see the parking lot.
When his head drops, Manaow hits his shoulder with her pencil case to wake him up and attracts the eyes of half the class, including their professor.
After class, Pharm—his actual kind best friend—gives Team a simple ja mongkut and asks if he can get home by himself.
“Hia can drive me,” Team says.
“Didn’t he leave after lunch?” Manaow asks, eyebrows lifted. “And didn’t you drive here by yourself today?”
“Oh,” Team says.
He sits on the nearest windowsill and rubs his eyes.
“Team,” Pharm says. His hand cups Team’s bicep and squeezes. “Maybe you should let one of us drive you.”
Team’s about to dismiss the offer when pressure lands on top of his head.
Pharm says, “P’Dean!” with delight.
Team tips his head back and does indeed discover Dean’s arm retracting from his head.
“Hi, Phi,” Team says, raising his hands and secretly proud of himself for remembering to do it. Three minutes ago, he tried to open the empty space in the open classroom doorframe. He’s pretty sure that’s what prompted Pharm to give him pity sweets.
Oh.
Hey.
He stuffs the ja mongkut into his mouth and the sweetness brightens his brain for a few precious seconds. He smiles and sighs.
The snapping in front of his face startles him badly enough that Dean has to grab his shoulder so he doesn’t fall out the window.
“How late did Win have you studying?” Dean asks.
The question and Dean’s tone of voice set off a little bell in Team’s head, and he hears himself saying, “Wasn’t his fault. I got up after he fell asleep.” Then, to cover, he adds, “Uhh, please don’t tell him that.”
“Team, you idiot,” Manaow says, smacking the side of his head with far less force than she usually uses. “Studying that much isn’t good if you don’t sleep! Lack of sleep is bad for your brain.”
The absurdity of hearing that after the way he spent his first year is too much and Team giggles for a while.
“I think he knows,” Pharm says, a hint of chiding in the lift of his eyebrows.
Team says, “Yeah…you.” He was going to call her a very rude name, but chose not to in front of his senior, and now he realizes it sounded like he couldn’t remember her name. Belatedly, he adds, “Manaow!” to prove he’s still got a few cylinders burning.
“Um,” Manaow says, “maybe you two should take him home before he passes out.”
Team’s about to insist he’s fine again but before his mouth is fully open he catches a shift of movement in his peripheral vision and peers down the hall at—
“P’Win!” Manaow calls. “Your boyfriend is a child and can’t take care of himself!”
Team glares at her for posterity, but he’s much more interested in why Win is here, so he watches his boyfriend’s approach instead. This allows him to see Win smirk as he says, “That’s correct. Which is why I’m here.” He fills the last gap encircling Team and runs his hand over Team’s hair. “Hey, sleepy.”
Team’s stomach becomes soft fire. “Hi, hia,” he says. He’s not in any way responsible for the warmth in his voice.
“Dean just texted me,” Win says, “and said you almost fell out a window.”
“I did not,” Team says, but he isn’t totally sure, so he glances at Pharm to confirm this.
“Well,” Pharm says, when Win looks at him as well. “Almost. We wouldn’t have let him, though.”
Win thumbs coconut flakes off Team’s cheek and pops them into his mouth casually. “Ready to go?”
Team says, “You’re gross,” while Dean rolls his eyes emphatically.
“I’m famished and opportunistic,” Win corrects.
“Smaller words,” Team whines. “My brain aches.”
Win hauls him up by the wrist and the small group disperses with promises to see each other after the weekend. It isn’t until Team’s in the passenger seat of his own car with Win behind the wheel that he thinks to ask, “Why are you on campus anyway?”
Win stares pointedly at the jilted seatbelt over Team’s shoulder until Team groans and yanks it over his chest and pops it into the buckle. Win promptly starts the car.
“I didn’t leave,” Win says. “I swam for a while with some of the guys while I waited for your last class to finish.”
Team processes that, blinks, and asks, “Why?”
Win reaches across the car to brush his knuckles against Team’s cheek. “Because, you absolute horror, you fell asleep on my shoulder at lunch. How irresponsible would it be of me to let you drive yourself back like that?”
“What about your bike?”
“It’ll be fine ’til tomorrow.”
Team sits with that for a few seconds, then touches the back of Win’s hand, resting on the console, and says, “Thanks, hia.”
Win smiles out the windshield and turns his hand over, accepting the slide of Team’s fingers between his.
“You’re welcome, baby.”
When they arrive at their dormitory, Team indulges in a low whine for the entire duration of the walk from his car to the elevator. Win presses the button for his floor and Team leans on him without even considering the button for his own. Team’s dorm room is still occupied by Team’s possessions, but Team rarely ever sleeps there. It’s a secret he guards closely because people are starting to get bored of teasing Pharm and Dean and Team knows he and Win are standing much, much too close to the firing range for his comfort.
Win asks if he’s hungry, but Team has already begun a dive into the bed so he doesn’t bother answering. His head didn’t land close enough to the pillows, so he reaches up for the nearest one, snags Win’s, and hauls it to his face so he can yell, “GOOD NIGHT,” as loud as he can.
Win’s laughter is genuine, and Team smiles into the fabric.
Within minutes, he’s out.
Of course, it’s barely four in the afternoon, so he’s not surprised when he opens his eyes to the sun gone and Win’s small desk lamp providing the only light in the room. Win himself has his headphones and glasses on, wearing maroon sweatpants and Team’s old black T-shirt, his bare feet propped on his desk and his phone horizontal in his hand, his laptop’s sleep display a swirl of color on the desk next to him.
Who gets a first love like him? Team wonders.
For a few minutes, Team watches Win’s eyes, assuming Win will sense him looking, but in the end, Win doesn’t, and Team experiences a tiny thrill of undetected victory as he slips under again.
The sensations of Win crawling into bed and getting comfortable don’t wake Team, so he’s not entirely sure what does. He just knows without opening his eyes that it’s completely dark, rain has begun a drumroll against the windowpane, and Win’s head is resting on his chest.
He’s cleared the slide down the gutter, and his mind feels fresh and alert as he opens his eyes to take in the ugly time on Win’s clock.
In a few minutes, he’ll persuade himself to get out of bed to pee and then brush the sour fuzz off of his teeth, but for now, Team angles his chin down to see Win’s peaceful face better and indulges the smile no one but Win ever sees.
Who gets a love like him?
For whatever reason, the memories of today will stay with Team for years after, thrillingly mundane and vehemently cherished and quietly remarkable.