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It is a little like this: the sun shining a little too brightly for it to be only an hour until sunset, as always. The mud under Tian's shoes seeping into places that he won't have the heart to scrub away, a little reminder of Pha Pun Dao staying with him, forever. The smell of the soil, so distinctly Pha Pun Dao, that Tian feels unsettled if it doesn't surround him. The trees, still dancing in the wind to the tune of the birds that pull them apart. Nothing out of the ordinary from another, ordinary day at Pha Pun Dao.
It's also a little like this: the chief's face still pulled into a frown, back from when Tian had (unwittingly) insisted that they walk back to his home. The chief's warm, broad hand splayed across on the small of his back, a grounding force, pulling him back when his thoughts drift a little too far. The chief's slight hitch in his breath, the tremble in his hand as he helps steady Tian whenever he stumbles. The silence, an awful, awkward silence stretched across the moment they share — a silence that never existed before, a silence that Tian grows restless in, willing to do anything, just about everything for a little reaction from him. It is nothing like an ordinary day at Pha Pun Dao.
The place that felt a little too much like home, feels too big — or Tian feels too little, flailed across in the empty spaces the village never had, before.
"Chief…" Tian starts, not knowing how to end. He just— he just needs to make sure that he hasn't, somehow, fucked up.
"Yod has gone to town to get your medicine," Phupha replies with something that Tian had already known. Perhaps to fill in the gaps.
(Tian does not miss the slight shake in Phupha's hands every time his fist unclenches. I caused this, Tian thinks.)
"Yes," Tian replies regardless.
A beat, and then: "Thank you." Tian schools his voice to sound unbothered, as though he's only thanking Phupha for asking his subordinate to get him his medicine. Instead, it comes out in a waver, his fear still clinging around the edges. He doesn't know what exactly he is thanking Phupha for — the fact that he's looking out for Tian, even now when he'd indulged in a lie, the fact that he is here, with him, instead of letting him go home all by himself, or whether he is simply grateful that he gets to exist, as he is, with him.
They come to a stop then; Tian had not even realised that they've come home until he looks away from Phupha's intense gaze, still unmoving, still peering into his soul.
"No problem," Phupha replies, his voice soft, his hand still fixed on Tian's back, as though he'd fall apart if Phupha didn't hold him.
"I should go now," Tian says, pointing at his door.
Phupha nods, letting his hand fall away, leaving Tian's back a little cold.
They've been here before, right outside his door, only saying goodbye to each other, but never truly meaning it.
(He can't, Tian realises with utmost clarity, he can't even think of saying goodbye to Phupha. You can't say goodbye to the other half of your soul.)
"Chief…" Tian starts again. "I am sorry for scaring you."
Phupha lets out a shuddering breath at that. He steps in, his hand extending, his fingers splaying out — and for a moment Tian thinks, yes, hold me again — before he clenches them again, and holds his hands behind his back.
"Why didn't you—" Phupha looks away, before meeting Tian's eyes again.
"I am worried," he says, at last. "I—" Tian has never seen the chief so out of composure, as though words have failed him entirely. His heart tugs towards Phupha. "It's you, you know?" Phupha says earnestly. "How can I not be worried?"
Words flail inside Tian's chest. It's you, the chief says, as though Tian is not someone who has, for the lack of a better word, fucked things up in the place he dares to call his home, with the people he dares to call his family. It's you, the chief says, as though he's worth the raw vulnerability in his eyes.
"Let me cook for you," Phupha says, stepping forward.
"Chief, I am alright." Tian realises that he's said the wrong thing when Phupha tenses up.
"Let me cook for you, Tian," Phupha says again. "Let me stay with you for a little while. Let me take care of you."
"You don't need to protect me," Tian replies on instinct.
The chief doesn't flinch the way he would've, before. "You call the villagers your family, didn't you?"
At Tian's nod, Phupha says, his eyes as warm as the setting sun, "I am from this village too. Family takes care of each other. Let me take care of you."
***
It is a little bit like this: Tian was always bound by time — either before the transplant or after — but not like this, never like this. Here, in the time that Tian has spent looking at Phupha cook from his bed, time almost feels fragile. Revel in it too deep, and time will be over before he knows it. Not savour it enough, and time will be marred by the lack of meaningful memories. It feels like this will soon slip away, like sand between his fingers, and he won't even get to hold it close to his heart.
It is a little bit like this: Phupha attempting to make senseless conversation over a simple dinner, just because he knows, somehow, that Tian doesn't need to think, much less talk about what happened today — at least not for the night. Just the other day, Tian had accused Phupha of not smiling, but ever since then, Tian had been privy to his warmest smiles, making Tian bask in the selfish glory of it (no-one gets to see it, no one but him).
It is also a little bit like this: Phupha, making a home for himself in Tian's space long after it's dark, setting up Tian's mosquito net without prompting, a hushed silence falling onto them both before Phupha breaks it with a quiet, "Would you consider extending your stay?"
Tian looks at him shocked, unable to form words or find his voice for the hundredth time that day.
"I'll think about it," Tian answers at last, despite wanting to scream, yes, yes, thousand times yes.
The smile on Phupha's face at Tian's tentative answer is incomparable.
Phupha moves then, and at that moment, that singular moment stretched across the spaces in time, Tian doesn't know what takes over him. He's so reluctant for this night to end, so reluctant for Phupha to go away, and he's scared, he's so scared damn it, and just wants somebody near him that he rushes forward to grab Phupha's hand with his.
Phupha looks at their joined hands, before meeting his eyes, prompting Tian to blurt, "Can I sleep with you?"
The chief's eyes widen, ever so slightly.
"I meant!" Tian is quick to amend. "Beside. Can I sleep beside you, I meant. I—"
Tian looks around his room, suddenly feeling as though the space is too big, too large to contain what very little is left of him. "I don't want to stay alone. Right now, that is. But it's okay if you can't," Tian feels so unlike himself. Sleeping alone would have been preferable to this mortifying conversation.
Phupha's warm hands come to rest on Tian's shoulders. "I will," he says softly.
***
In his room, in the velvety darkness they surround themselves with, it is a little like this: them, sharing a blanket (again). Their hands gravitating towards each other in the dark — this time, Tian does not hesitate to envelop the chief's hand with his, before the chief flip their hands over and threads their fingers together. Tian feels safe here; secure.
He moves a little towards the chief, towards the warmth he perpetually emanates. Tian does not miss the chief moving closer too; Tian wonders why he would, for Tian always runs cold. It could not possibly be comfortable.
They move closer until their shoulders are touching. Tian does not have to look at the chief to know that he's looking at him.
Tian has already lost face in front of the chief today, on several different occasions. He nudges his cold toes against Phupha's ankle.
Phupha's sharp intake of breath, and the fact that he doesn't move his foot away, tell him all there is to know.
"Can we," Tian starts, not knowing how to end that sentence.
Phupha hums, curious.
They haven't even hugged, for god's sake. They've only...Tian has only wished that they would. He does not know what prompts him to say it.
"Can we cuddle?"
Phupha does not hesitate before letting out a relieved, "Yes."
Their hands tighten around each other.
"What do you— are you the...big spoon or the small spoon?"
"Tian."
"What? It's a valid question. I wouldn't mind being the big spoon, chief." Tian thinks about wrapping him in a hug from behind. But tonight, Tian thinks—
"Just turn around, Tian," Phupha demands.
"Geez, okay, so bossy," Tian says, leaving their hands and turning around.
Phupha does not wait a second before pulling Tian into his warm self.
Tian can already breathe easier. He gingerly puts his hand atop Phupha's and squeezes onto it.
It goes something like this: Tian wrapped safe and secure in Phupha's arms. Phupha, pulling him closer, muttering sweet nothings into his hair, a melody, a lullaby. Phupha, making sure that Tian sleeps better than he had, ever. Phupha, Phupha, Phupha.
Tian feels more at home than he'll ever be.