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Team finishes sending a text to Win and puts his phone down on the canteen table. Manaow’s voice has been a dull noise in the background for almost the entire lunch break. She’s been waxing poetic for the last twenty minutes about ‘love languages’ and the quiz she found about them, and somehow managed to rope Dean and Pharm into it.
Team can honestly say he hasn’t been listening to most of it, but tunes back in just in time for Dean and Pharm to have received their results.
“There’s five possible love languages,” Manaow explains. “Words of affirmation, physical touch, receiving gifts, quality time, and acts of service. Whichever one you get represents how you best connect with your partner and express affection.”
Pharm focuses on his phone screen. “This says my love language is quality time.”
“Mine too,” Dean says, smiling gently at him. Pharm beams radiantly back.
Team is a little surprised Dean agreed to take the quiz in the first place, though Pharm seems incredibly endeared about it, so he supposes that’s the reason.
Manaow practically squeals. “You’re both so compatible!” she scrolls on her phone, reading off a passage. “This says that couples who share the same love language are more likely to be a good match because they can anticipate their partner’s needs. Those who don’t have matching love languages have the potential for miscommunication.” At this, Manaow gets a dreamy look in her eyes. “Mine and P’Pruk are both physical touch,” she says giddily.
“Gross,” Team informs her.
Manaow directs the full force of her attention onto him, and Team immediately feels like he made a mistake. She wiggles her phone playfully.
“Don’t you want to know what P’Win’s is?” she teases.
“No,” Team retorts, crossing his arms defensively.
“Is that because you’re already an expert in Win’s love language by now?” Manaow’s eyes glint, and even Dean and Pharm look amused.
Team refuses to let anything show on his face, even as his ears go warm. He pointedly says nothing as Manaow attempts to stare him down.
“I’m pretty sure Win’s love language is causing problems on purpose,” Dean eventually offers.
Team snorts, opening his mouth to agree.
“Yours too, Team,” Dean adds, and Team’s mouth clacks shut, slumping further down in his chair. When Pharm pats his shoulder consolingly, he’s only slightly mollified.
“You’re all wrong,” Manaow says confidently. “It’s very obvious that P’Win’s love language is acts of service. Isn’t that sweet?”
“What does that even mean?” Team asks, frustrated at himself for being interested.
Manaow’s expression is smug now that she has Team’s attention. “It means he expresses and feels love doing nice things for others. Think about it, Team. He’s always paying for meals, and offers to tutor us if we need it. And he runs extra swimming practice for any of the newbies who are struggling. Don’t you agree?”
Team does agree. Win has done more nice things for him than anyone else at this table, including Dean. The others don’t know the true extent of Win's kindness towards him. His first act of service was to open his room and his arms to a scared freshman he barely knew just so his mind would quieten enough to sleep.
The others are all looking at him expectantly, so he says, “I guess so.”
Manaow rests her chin on her hand, assessing, like Team is a particularly difficult puzzle she’s trying to figure out.
“I’m usually quite good at guessing, but I can’t work out what your love language would be. It’s kind of hard to get a read on you, sometimes.” She makes a considering noise, “Maybe receiving gifts, but I’m not too sure. How do you feel when P’Win gives you gifts?”
“Um,” Team thinks about it, “It feels nice, I guess? He mostly buys me food, which I enjoy. But I’m pretty sure everybody in the world likes receiving a gift, I don’t see how that has anything to do with—”
Team cuts off as a familiar blond ponytail enters the canteen, making a beeline in their direction. Win places a takeout cup on the table in front of Team, steam rising from the spout, and Team automatically cups his hands around it. The air conditioning inside the building is situated right above him, and his hands were beginning to go numb from the continuous blast of cold air.
“What a wonderfully kind act of service you’ve performed, P'Win,” Manaow pipes up, shooting Team a pointed look. Team tries to kick her shin under the table but, to his dismay, misses completely.
“Um,” Win says, glancing between them. “Thanks?”
“Hia,” Team interrupts before Manaow can start anything again, “I thought you had tutoring to do this afternoon?”
“I do. Your text said you were cold so I picked you up a hot chocolate,” Win explains. He looks questioningly around at the group, “It also said you were bored, so I assumed you were on your own.”
“Manaow wouldn’t stop talking,” Team says flatly.
“Hey!” Manaow yelps, which he ignores.
Win smiles fondly. “I was planning to keep you company before my students arrive for tutoring, but one of them got there early.” He looks gravely down at Team, placing a bracing hand on his shoulder. “Will you survive here on your own, as boring as it is?”
Team places a solemn hand over his chest. “I will do what I must.”
“You’re the bravest person I know,” Win says seriously, then brightens. “I’ll see you later?”
Team nods up at him with a smile, “Thanks for the drink, hia.”
Win ruffles his hair affectionately, and Team almost forgets to pretend he doesn’t enjoy it. Win aims a goodbye wai to Manaow and Pharm, sends a finger heart to Dean, who recoils instantly, and then leaves.
Team goes to take a sip of the drink, freezing halfway to his mouth when he spots Manaow. She’s peering at him so closely it’s like she’s trying to see right through him and into his very soul.
“Maybe words of affirmation,” she says consideringly.
Team flicks her on the forehead, to which he receives an enraged ouch!, effectively putting an end to the conversation.
Manaow has shared the love languages quiz on her Facebook page. Team knows it’s a bad idea to indulge her, but he’s alone in his dorm room, and he’s extremely bored. And, okay, maybe a little curious about what Manaow said about love languages. Mostly about what they can represent for compatibility.
Against his better judgement, Team clicks the link.
The explanation of each love language is easy to understand, and it certainly seems more plausible than some of the other theories of romance that Manaow has subjected them to in the past. If he takes the quiz, it will reveal which love languages mostly apply to the way he demonstrates love.
Team hopes his isn’t receiving gifts. He couldn’t bear it if Win went out of his way to do things for him to show his love and all Team does is want presents. He appreciates the things Win buys for him, but he doesn’t need them in order to feel loved. Win buys him chips and pays for meals because he genuinely wants to, not because he thinks it will keep Team interested. Win has never had to do anything but be himself to hold Team’s interest.
Team takes the stupid quiz.
Some of the questions make him blush slightly: Do you like it when someone compliments you? Do you sleep better while beside another person? Do you like receiving someone’s undivided attention?
Physical touch, it informs him, is his love language, and Team balks slightly. He’s relieved it isn’t gifts, but the webpage informs him he expresses and feels love through various types of touch, both intimate and non-intimate. He’s about to dismiss the whole thing as ridiculous when his thoughts slide to earlier today, when Win ruffled his hair, like he always does, and the feeling had Team warm from the inside out.
He recalls the way Win throws an arm over his shoulders at every opportunity, and how he really doesn’t mind it at all. When they sit beside each other, Win is always a comforting line at his side, pressing their legs together from ankle to thigh, out of sight of prying eyes.
All the times he’s squirrelled Win away into a hidden alcove or a parking garage just to press a kiss against his lips, the elation of it when it’s just the two of them. The way his mind struggles to find peace at night unless he’s wrapped safely within Win’s arms.
Hia, his mind echoes, Can I hug you?
In hindsight, perhaps this isn’t such a stretch after all. It’s certainly unexpected, but on closer inspection, makes a lot of sense.
Coming in at a close second is quality time. Team revels in the presence of his friends, no matter what their plans are, and he can freely admit the thrill when he holds Win’s undivided attention.
Team reads the description for acts of service and is taken aback at just how much it screams Win. A whole series of events flashes before him: Win letting him sleep in his bed; Win tutoring him for no charge; Win paying for every meal they have together; Win taking him to see the Christmas lights before they were even officially together.
He’s a little angsty that this whole thing seems to make sense, because now it’s in his head and he can’t stop thinking about it.
You have to speak to someone in their own love language, Manaow’s voice echoes, Otherwise there’s the potential for miscommunication.
Win does so much for him. And Team… Team really tries to give back. At least, he thought he did. But the acts of service Win does for him far outweigh anything Team has ever given in return. The possibility that Win may come to eventually resent him for the lack of reciprocation makes something uncomfortable turn in his stomach.
Win has always spoken to Team in Team’s love language, whether he picked up on it or not. It’s about time Team started to speak to Win using his.
Team decides to ask for consultation on how best to give back to Win. The whole gang is at a restaurant, and he swiftly drags Manaow and Pharm over to a table as Dean goes off to the counter to order for them all. They’ve recently started a new tradition where, once every two weeks, they go out to dinner and one person decides what food they all eat. Win has excused himself to the bathroom, so now is the best opportunity.
“I need advice,” Team tells them, and they both immediately snap to attention. They really are his best friends, and his fondness for them is neverending.
“What about?” Pharm asks.
“I want to find a way to show Hia Win I appreciate him, just like he does for me,” Team explains. “I don’t think I’m very good at this kind of thing, so I need some ideas.”
Pharm hums thoughtfully. “Do you have any idea what you’d like to do?”
Frustration bleeds out into his voice, “I don’t know. I just wanted to make a… gesture,” he finishes lamely. “He does a lot for me, and I don’t want him to feel like I don’t appreciate it.”
“I don’t think that would ever happen,” Manaow cuts in casually. “It’s obvious to anyone with eyes that P’Win is head over heels in love with you. And it’s entirely obvious that you’re completely gone for him, too.”
Team tries not to gape, even as his cheeks prickle with warmth. Manaow and Pharm simply watch him, allowing him to process for a moment.
Manaow asks, “Was it supposed to be a secret that you’re both completely smitten with each other?”
Team answers, “No?” with only a slight crack.
Manaow stares at him, unimpressed. “Remind me to never trust you with a secret.”
While Team splutters, Pharm says, “I think we’re getting a little off topic here. I have a few ideas that might help,” Team looks at him in relief, “But P’Win might be back any minute. Manaow and I will send things to the group chat tonight, and you can pick which ones you like best.”
“Pharm, you’re like an angel with no wings,” Team informs him.
“So, like a person?” Pharm replies, smiling.
“This wouldn’t happen to be due to a special occasion, would it?” Manaow cuts in, “Like, for example, your anniversary?”
“What?” Team is bewildered by the swift change in topic. Both of them are suddenly looking at him with such laser focus that he feels like he’s being hunted. “No, it’s not our anniversary yet.”
“Because none of us actually know when you and P’Win officially got together,” Pharm adds casually. “Not even P’Dean. P’Win wouldn’t tell him anything out of loyalty to you.”
This conversation is not taking the direction he thought it would. But he absolutely does not want to admit he’s doing all this because of a stupid love languages quiz, so Team stays silent and waits, because he’s pretty sure they’re building up to something he hasn’t picked up on yet. As expected, Manaow is the first to crack.
“There’s a betting pool,” she explains, “For the official date you and P’Win got together. Almost the entire swim team are in on it, as well as Pharm and I.”
“Hate that for me,” Team responds.
Manaow continues like he never spoke, “We were wondering if you would finally settle the debate.”
Team looks deeply into both of their hopeful little faces and says, “No.”
“Team,” Manaow whines, reaching forward to claw desperately at his sleeve, “Don’t be unreasonable. If you tell me, I’ll never ask for anything ever again.”
“That’s not true,” Team tells her, shaking her off, “And my answer is still no.”
Pharm is laughing softly at them now, and Manaow huffs. “Fine,” she grumbles, “I’ll just wait until you and P’Win get married. You can’t exactly keep your wedding anniversary a secret if I attend the wedding.”
“Bold of you to think you’ll be invited,” Team quips, before he registers the implication of his words. Pharm and Manaow look at each other with twin expressions of manic delight, and Team feels like he might burst into flames.
Win chooses that exact moment to appear in his line of sight, heading towards Dean, who is just finishing up their order at the counter.
“If either of you loved me at all,” Team’s voice is tight with mortification, “You’d forget what I just said.”
“Not likely,” Manaow tells him cheerfully.
Pharm takes pity on him and mercifully changes the subject. “Why did you ask for our advice on this?” he asks curiously. “P’Dean and P’Pruk are both closer to P’Win, and they’re older, they might have had better ideas.”
“Pharm, with age doesn’t always come wisdom,” Team says wistfully as he turns his head to watch Win attempt to scare Dean from behind. When Dean doesn’t react to his jump scare, Win crosses his arms over his chest, unimpressed. Dean cuffs him over the back of the head which prompts Win to counterattack, both of them now locked in a playful scuffle.
“Should we stop them?” Manaow asks.
“Nah,” Pharm replies, “I like seeing this playful side of P’Dean.” Across the way, Dean has put Win into a headlock and is ruffling his hair violently. “Even if it comes at the expense of P’Win.” He looks sheepish, “Sorry, Team.”
Team waves him off as Dean drags Win back to their table. “Don’t worry about it. He has a hard head, he’ll be fine.”
Win looks up as best as he can while locked underneath Dean’s arm, placing a sarcastic hand over his heart. “Your support is so touching, Team.”
Team gives him a thumbs up. “You’re doing amazing, hia.”
After Dean releases him, Win straightens out his clothes and hair then points at Team. “You’ll be punished for your insolence,” he promises, even as he slides into the booth and throws his arm around Team’s shoulders. Team revels in the heavy weight of it, the attention of his friends the only thing preventing him from snuggling closer.
“I’d like to see you try,” Team teases.
Win’s eyes take on a mischievous glint, opening his mouth to retort.
“So,” Pharm interjects before things can escalate, “What did you end up ordering?”
The group falls into easy chatter, just like they always do. Team zones out midway through the conversation when Win begins to trace idle patterns over Team’s shoulder blade, unseen by the others.
Win doesn’t give any indication that he’s aware he’s doing it, continuing to laugh at whatever Manaow is saying, and replying to Dean when prompted. Team feels his world narrow to that small touch tethering him to Win, a hidden connection just for the two of them. Team is once again overwhelmed by the ways Win silently shows his affection, while still ensuring Team is comfortable.
“Hey,” Win murmurs. Team’s eyes flick up to meet Win’s concerned ones. Their food has arrived, and Win has taken advantage of the others’ distraction to lean in closer where they can’t overhear. “You’ve been quiet for a while. Are you okay?”
Team sends him a small smile. “I’m okay. I was just thinking.”
Ordinarily, Win might tease him that thinking can be dangerous, but the slight worry on his face overrides that. Instead, Win gives a comforting squeeze and says, “Don’t get lost in there, okay?”
Win’s hand slips from his shoulder, and Team’s mind clears back to reality, even as he feels the loss of the touch like an ache.
After they’ve eaten, Win offers to pay for all of them, immediately shooting down all their arguments to the contrary, and the knot in Team’s stomach tightens a little more.
The next day, the first mission in Operation Team Gives Back hits a snag. Manaow and Pharm had given him several ideas last night, but this one he already came up with himself. Team clutches the coffee for Win—half sweet, caramel syrup, whipped cream—like a lifeline as he heads towards Win’s favourite study bench. It’s outside under an awning, and usually relatively quiet.
When he gets there, he pauses briefly when he sees Pruk sat opposite Win, but then his boyfriend spots him and smiles so radiantly he completely forgets about anything else.
“Team,” Win’s voice is impossibly warm, “I didn’t think I’d see you until tonight.”
“I was passing by the cafe and thought you might want a coffee,” Team explains breezily, holding it up for him to see. “It was on the way to my next class.”
That’s a lie. Win’s favourite coffee shop is situated on the other side of campus, in the complete opposite direction of Team’s next class. He’d woken up thirty minutes early just to have enough time to make the round trip.
Judging by his expression, Win seems to suspect there’s something off about that explanation, but thankfully doesn’t mention it. Instead, he shoots Pruk a look, who is staring at something in front of Win on the table. Team instinctively follows his gaze and spots the coffee cup partially obscured by Win’s grip. Win must have made an attempt to hide it when Team showed up with another, but wasn’t too successful.
“Oh,” Team fights to keep the disappointment out of his voice, “You already bought one.”
“I can have two,” Win hastens to say, holding his hand out.
Team hesitates, “Isn’t that too much caffeine?”
Win’s expression is unbearably hopeful, so he concedes and relinquishes the caramel monstrosity over to his boyfriend’s possession. Win immediately dismisses the half empty one, pushing it to the side, then cradles Team’s gifted drink like it’s something precious.
“Thank you for thinking of me,” Win says, warm and grateful.
I’m always thinking of you, Team thinks, but the words die in his throat before he can utter them.
“No problem,” he says awkwardly, fighting the urge to fidget.
Despite Win’s gratitude, something like embarrassment is settling into the pit of his stomach. Pruk is watching the whole exchange with only mild interest, but Team feels completely exposed, stripped bare for anyone to see. As he turns to leave, Win calls his name, and Team pauses in his movement.
“I was going to give this to you later,” Win is rifling through his backpack, “But since you’re here, it makes sense for you to take it now.” He triumphantly pulls a blue notebook out of his bag, holding it out towards Team.
Team only stares at it in confusion, prompting Win to speak.
“You said you were having a bit of trouble with some of the more complex calculations, right?” Team nods, slowly taking the proffered notebook. “These revision notes should help you with learning the formulas. I put them together a few nights ago while you were sleeping.”
Team flips open the notebook only to be met with extensive, colour coded notes for his Advanced Calculus module. He recognises Win’s handwriting documenting helpful tips to make the calculations easier, in addition to the required formulas. The whole thing is neat and precise and exactly what Team needs to help the knowledge sink into his long term memory. Win is familiar with the best way he learns, and always adapts his teaching methods accordingly.
Team’s small attempt at giving back pales in comparison to the care and effort that Win put into this notebook. A lump forms in his throat as he snaps it closed.
Win is smiling at him, but Team can barely manage the small lift of his mouth in return.
“Thank you,” he rasps.
Win’s face drops slightly, uncertain. Team needs to leave before he vibrates out of his own skin, hurriedly shoving the book into his backpack.
“Team,” Win says cautiously, “Is everything okay?”
“Everything’s fine,” he dismisses, “I just don’t want to be late.”
Team turns on his heel and leaves, forcing himself to slow his pace to something that passes as normal. He feels Win’s eyes on him up until he disappears around the corner, out of sight.
After another brief (slightly panicked) consultation with Pharm, his best friend suggests cooking for Win as a token of his appreciation. He takes a detour on the way home to buy ingredients, and Pharm kindly sends him a simplified recipe for fried rice and omelette, including step by step instructions. Win’s dorm is equipped with a tiny kitchenette, mostly unused, but it’s perfect for simple dishes.
Team is so focused on stir frying the vegetables that he barely hears Win’s key turn in the lock. He panics for a beat; Win isn’t supposed to be back for another fifteen minutes at least, and Team wanted the meal to be fully prepared as a surprise for when he arrived home. Win’s tutoring session must have ended early—which hampers that plan entirely.
“Hey,” Win’s voice greets from behind him.
Team spins guiltily away from the counter, as if he’s been caught doing something illegal. He has no idea why he feels so jittery all of a sudden, but he really, really wants to get this right for Win. Team’s body is blocking the pan, and Win seems a bit too distracted to have noticed it yet.
Win approaches him warily, looking uncharacteristically unsure. “Team, I’m sorry if I overstepped earlier with the notebook.” A horrible feeling of guilt creeps into Team’s chest. “I know you’ve been studying fine on your own, but I thought it might help—”
“Don’t be silly, hia,” Team reassures quickly, “The notebook is great. I’ve already memorised half of it.”
Win’s body language relaxes instantly. “That’s a relief,” he begins to move closer, “The way you ran off, I was worried you—” he comes to a halt an arm’s length from Team, nose twitching like a kitten as he scents the air.
His eyes lock on Team’s, who is making his best effort to appear casual. Mouth curling upwards slowly, Win aims a pointed look at the stove behind Team. “What are you doing?”
Team turns back to the pan, stirring the contents as a means of stalling. “What does it look like I’m doing?”
Win’s big hands cup his waist, peering down into the pan over Team’s shoulder. Team tries to not get distracted at the long line of him pressed against his back.
“It looks like you’re cooking,” Win replies, matter-of-fact. “And therein lies my concern.”
“Okay,” Team says loudly, whirling to push Win back towards the bed. “You’re going to sit here and wait until I’m finished.” He pushes down on Win’s shoulders until he gets the hint and sits on the edge of the bed. “I need to concentrate. Don’t distract me.”
To his credit, Win makes it three whole minutes in silence before he speaks again. Team has just finished cracking eggs into a bowl when Win asks, “Did I do something to make you hate me?”
Team recoils, spinning to gape at him. “What?”
“Why else would you be trying to poison me?” Win is leaning back on his hands, effortlessly casual, an amused upturn to his mouth.
Team points the wooden spoon at him. “That can still be arranged,” he threatens.
“I’m sure it can,” Win grins, happy to annoy him.
Team goes back to whisking the eggs with chopsticks, like Pharm had advised, intent on ignoring him. There’s a rustle of movement behind him, and then Win is suddenly at his back again, placing a sweet kiss into the back of his hair.
“I’m gonna go wash my face,” he murmurs, then disappears into the bathroom.
Team takes a deep, cleansing breath, and then gets to work. By the time Win emerges, after finishing his skin care routine, Team is spooning fried rice into two bowls and topping them off with an omelette.
Win settles on the floor in front of the low coffee table, crossing his legs underneath him. His hair is loose now, and there’s a damp section at the nape of his neck that he must have accidentally splashed when rinsing his face. It’s beginning to curl against his skin as it dries, and Team finds it so adorable that something stutters against his ribcage.
As Team hands him a bowl, Win asks, “What made you want to cook?”
Team shrugs, settling across from him, not meeting his eyes. “I just wanted to do something nice.”
The for you goes unsaid, but Team is certain Win understands anyway. Win is looking at him in that way he used to before they were officially together, when he thought Team wasn’t aware of it. There’s something precious and secret about it, and Team hopes that he never stops looking at him like that, as if there’s something special in him that Win can’t quite figure out. Team presses his lips together and looks into his own bowl, pretending not to see.
The moment passes, and Win scoops up a spoonful of rice and looks at it suspiciously, sarcastic and teasing.
Team shoots him a look. “Seriously?”
Win smiles. “You go first,” he says, and Team rolls his eyes and takes a comically large bite.
“It’s safe,” he says, mouth full. Win laughs at him and eats too, seeming to really consider the taste.
“This is really good,” Win tells him, with only a hint of surprise.
The compliment has pride flooding through him, but he tries not to let it show on his face.
“Are you sure you wouldn’t have preferred poison?” Team asks sweetly.
“I’m serious,” Win’s face is overwhelmingly impressed, his delight radiating outwards, settling over Team like a blanket. “This was really thoughtful of you. Thank you, baby.” He leans in to press a quick kiss to the tip of Team’s nose, then goes back to eating, humming appreciatively at the taste.
The recipe is the simplest one he could make without burning it, but with the way Win is reacting, you’d think Team had served him a Michelin star dish. It’s a good start to matching Win’s kindness, but Team needs to do something bigger. Something more worthy of Win.
“You’re really not gonna tell me where we’re going?” Win asks for the fourth time today, after they’ve been in the car for about twenty minutes.
“Sorry,” Team says, determined not to look over at the passenger’s seat and get distracted by Win’s teasing face. “You’re going to have to wait a whole hour to find out. I’m sure that’s going to be very hard for you.”
“An hour?” Win peers at a passing road sign, then laughs softly. “So one of the beaches in Chonburi, then?”
Team turns for just a split second to shoot him a glare. “Don’t ruin the surprise.”
“Why the sudden trip, anyway?” Win asks, something curious in his voice.
Team knows it’s a reasonable question, but he can’t help but bristle slightly. “You’re not the only one who can plan dates,” he says, fighting to keep the defensiveness from coming through in his voice.
He doesn’t have to see Win’s face to know that his expression has gone soft; he can hear it in his voice. “I know. I’m sure whatever it is, I’m going to love it.”
There’s something else to the patient tone of his voice, like Win can tell there’s something more to this but doesn’t want to push, but he kindly changes the subject to the upcoming swimming competition.
Win relaxes the further out of the city and the closer to the sea they get. It’s late into the evening, far past the time where any tourists or regular beach goers would be milling around. The sun is about halfway down in the sky, an orange glow of comforting warmth as they drive, and Team desperately hopes they won’t be too late for what he has planned.
By the time they arrive at the beach, Win is smiling gently. Win always looks most at home on a beach, by the water, like he was made for it. Team fishes the picnic basket out of the back seat that he kept hidden with a blanket, packed with food courtesy of Pharm. He brings both the basket and the blanket with him as he heads onto the sand.
Win is talking about their next swim meet, his voice going brighter when he spots the picnic basket, but he bites down on another smile and keeps going like he hasn’t seen.
The sand is a comforting warmth against Team’s feet, the sea curled upon the shore like a necklace. It stretches for miles either side of them, and as they walk further down the beach, the only other people there are two men. They look to be a little older than them, but not by much. They’re both standing a little closer to the ocean than Win and Team are, so Team decides it would be best to pass by them and give them their own privacy.
One of them has stepped into the water, his longer hair swept back out of his face. The waves are a little rougher than they would normally be, and the other man, the one with shorter hair, makes an aborted movement as if to stop him from going any further.
“Kongpob,” the one with shorter hair calls, “I’m not pulling you out of the water if you start drowning.”
“Why not?” The other boy, Kongpob, calls back around a grin. “You did it for me once before already. You’ll always be my hero, P’Arthit.”
Arthit, arms crossed, feet still rooted stubbornly into the sand, makes a noise of disgust that sounds like blegh. The other boy laughs like he expected it, turning to wade up to his ankles. The waves buffet his shins, but not too rough that there’s any realistic risk of him being swept away. Regardless, as if he can’t help it, Arthit drifts closer to the shore line, where the water caresses his feet.
“Be careful,” he chides, barely loud enough to be heard over the crashing of the waves.
Kongpob turns, wordlessly, outstretching his hand in offering. The silver ring on his finger catches the sun, glinting in the light. There is no hesitation as Arthit reaches forward to twine their fingers together, matching rings interlocked and shining. Arthit allows himself to be tugged until the water meets his ankles.
Kongpob’s expression shifts, melting into something softer, and it’s eerily similar to the look of infinite tenderness that Win often directs at Team. Team immediately feels like he’s interrupting a moment only meant for two, so he quickly averts his gaze as they walk past.
They walk a little further down the beach, but there’s nobody else there for miles. When Team looks back, the couple are curled into each other in the distance, with the kind of aching familiarity that only comes from years spent together. Team can’t help but hope that his future with Win will look something like that.
They stop at a stretch of beach with untouched golden sand. Team immediately shakes out the blanket, meticulously smoothing out any wrinkles.
Team yells, “Wait!” when Win makes to sit down, and Win freezes in place, his eyes wide. “I need it to be perfect first,” Team is quick to say, ignoring Win’s calculating gaze as he sets out the food from the basket. Once he’s satisfied, he pats the space next to him, and Win settles on the blanket.
Without ceremony, Win asks, “What’s going on, Team?”
Team hesitates for only a second. “Do I need a reason to take my boyfriend to the beach?” he deflects, busying himself rearranging the food.
Win doesn’t back down, but he does soften a little. “Of course not,” he says, leaning forward to still Team’s hands. “But I know that look. Something’s been bothering you, and I think you should tell me what it is so we can work through it together.”
Ah.
Inevitably, Team got so caught up in paying attention to Win that he forgot how good Win is at paying attention to him, too. Team can feel his resolve crumbling under the gentle, knowing look Win sends in his direction, so he averts his gaze.
“It’s going to sound stupid,” Team says.
Win tilts his head so that it’s in Team’s line of sight, face clear of judgement. “Try me.”
“Manaow showed me a quiz,” Team starts slowly. He sneaks a peek at Win, but he hasn’t even reacted. “About love languages. It said that yours is acts of service, which means you express love through helping people, and doing things for them, and it also said that couples should use each other’s love language but I—I’m not good at doing things for you, or helping you, and you do so much that I couldn’t ever make up for all those things or give enough back to you,” he knows he’s rambling, but Win’s face is open and gentle, and it makes all his frenzied thoughts spill out of him, “And I started thinking how I could do better, or do nice things for you, because I didn’t want you to eventually resent me for never giving back and I—” his voice cracks a little, “I just want to make sure I’m enough for you.”
Win kind of looks like he’s in pain and is trying his best to hide it. Team blinks rapidly, trying to calm his breathing. Win reaches for him and Team goes willingly, letting Win pull him across the blanket and into his arms, until his nose is nestled into its place in Win’s neck. Something that’s been unmoored inside him settles instantly, his mind going blissfully quiet as Win holds him.
“Did you get it all out?” Win asks. His voice is calm, overtly so, like he’s holding himself steady for Team.
Team takes a final, cleansing breath and nods, pulling away to look at him.
“That’s good,” Win says absently, and then, “Team, you threw a surprise party for my birthday a few months ago.”
There’s a patient tone to his voice, but his gaze is pointed.
“Well—I mean…” Team flounders a little, taken aback by Win’s immediate reversal. “It was your birthday,” he argues lamely. “I wasn’t just going to do nothing.”
Win’s face is doing that thing; that wonderful, awful, tender thing where he gazes at Team like he’s the most precious sight in the world. It never fails to set his heart racing, and he has to fight the urge to look away.
“How can you not realise how much you do for me?” Win’s eyes are shining with something reverent. “You make me laugh every single day, Team,” his smile is delicate, “Even when I’m so stressed out I feel like nothing positive will ever happen again. I can think of a million examples of when you took care of me, or stopped me from working myself into exhaustion.”
Team swallows hard. “Like what?”
“Like that time you drove to the library at two in the morning to pick me up,” Win answers quietly. “I’d finally submitted that essay I’d been working on for two weeks, and I was so exhausted I could barely open my eyes. I don’t even remember the journey home, but I remember you were there. I remember you tucking me into bed and refusing to fall asleep until you were sure I was sleeping, too.”
Team stays silent. This newfound insecurity of his is being washed away by Win’s words, like the sea washing away their footsteps in the sand.
When Team doesn’t respond, Win says, “You play the guitar for me whenever I ask.”
“I thought you were just indulging me,” Team’s tone is uncertain.
“That doesn’t explain why you went out of your way just to learn my favourite songs,” Win points out gently.
Team laughs, but it sounds hollow. “You’re right,” he rasps, “I learned them just for you.”
“I know,” Win says, but his voice is kind.
Win reaches out to hold his hand as the words sink in, which helps Team to catch his breath. Win lifts it to his mouth and kisses the back of it, watching him from under his lashes, then leans forward and kisses him, soft and sure. Team relaxes completely, beginning to smile into it, and he can feel the answering curve of Win’s smile against his mouth.
When he pulls back, Win has an air of mischief about him.
“My favourite one was the incident with the classmate of yours I was tutoring,” he says innocently. “He would always arrive twenty minutes late and make me stay longer to make the time up, which would sometimes make me late for our dates. Not to mention all the times he missed his sessions with terrible excuses. I shouldn’t have kept letting him reschedule, but I was a little too much of a pushover.”
“Kind,” Team corrects. “He took advantage of you because of your kindness. He knew you wouldn’t say no, regardless of how ridiculous he was being. You like to help people, hia, and he exploited that. I just politely asked him to ease off.”
“You practically backed him into a corner and threatened him. The poor boy looked absolutely terrified.” The corner of Win’s mouth curls, satisfied. “It was hot. You’re extremely attractive when you get protective.”
Team’s cheeks flush with warmth. “I do remember something like that, now that you mention it.”
Win rests his chin on his hand, smug. “You told him to fuck off.”
Team fights to tamper down on a smile. “I did,” he confirms.
Win leans closer. “Hot,” he repeats.
Instead of responding, Team meets him halfway in another sweet, tender kiss, with Win’s thumb swiping a soothing rhythm over the apple of his cheek.
“Do you believe me now?” Win murmurs, pulling back only far enough to catch his eye. His hand is cupped delicately around Team’s jaw in a comforting hold, his vision filled only with him.
Team nods, his affection for Win filling his chest like a balloon.
“I don’t do the things I do for you because I expect something in return,” Win says quietly. “But the things I do give you, you give back to me ten times over. Please don’t ever feel like you’re not enough for me. Everything I have to give is yours. I choose to give it to you freely, Team.”
There is a surge of something golden and bright that floods through his veins at that.
“You too,” Team says, swallowing past the lump in his throat. “Anything I can give. It’s yours, hia.”
Win smiles lovingly. “I know, baby.”
Team burrows back down into the crook of Win’s neck again, finally unable to stand the look on his face. Win laughs, soft and endlessly fond, and the affection in Team’s chest bubbles up and out of him, overflowing and incandescent.
“I love you,” he mumbles into the bare skin of Win’s neck, and feels the truth of it roll through him as he does. He doesn’t usually initiate those words, but Win deserves everything he can give.
“I love you too,” Win replies, soft and sure.
The sun is beginning to set beyond the horizon. It blossoms golden upon the evening sky, throwing them into hues of orange and red. The last rays of light before twilight will beckon the stars.
“Is this why you brought me here?” Win asks, awed.
“I thought you’d like to watch the sunset with me,” Team answers.
“It’s beautiful,” Win’s voice is filled with wonder, “Don’t you think?”
Team looks at him. Win’s irises are glowing amber under the light of the approaching dusk. There’s something radiant in the gentle slope of his nose; in the faint cut of his cheekbones, in the shape of his mouth. The sun sets just beyond them, the night air balmy against their skin, but Win is the warmest presence here.
“Beautiful,” Team agrees quietly.
They’re back at Win’s dorm, cuddled together on the bed with Team’s head on Win’s chest, when Team remembers.
“I forgot to tell you,” Team cranes his head to look up at his boyfriend, “The entire swim team has a betting pool for when our first anniversary is.”
Win makes an amused sound and begins to count off on his fingers, “First time we slept together, first real date, or first day we considered it official.” His hand drops down to Team’s head, carding through his hair, and Team’s eyes flutter closed. “They’re going to have to narrow it down, or else we have three different anniversaries.”
“I demand three presents,” Team mumbles.
“That can be arranged,” Win replies, fond.
Win’s fingers are massaging the delicate shell of his ear. It feels nice, his brain sliding into the familiar contented fuzziness he’s come to associate with Win’s touch.
After a few beats of contemplative silence, Win asks, “What do you say next time Manaow advises you to take a random internet quiz?”
Team presses into Win’s hand like a cat and responds, “Fuck off, Manaow.”
Win blinks, then somehow manages to keep his voice even. “We can work on the details later.”
Team makes a vague noise of agreement.
Curiously, Win asks, “Where did Manaow even find that quiz anyway?”
“Online,” Team reluctantly disengages from Win to reach for his phone and open up the webpage, showing Win the screen. Win takes the phone and squints at it, considering.
“Curious?” Team wheedles.
“Not about mine,” Win dismisses. “I think we’ve already established what my love language is. But I bet I can take the quiz to work out what yours is.”
Team remembers how surprised he’d been at his result. Honestly, he’s fairly sure Win might get quality time for him, which would be fine considering that was a close second. But Team doesn’t know what he’ll do if Win comes to the conclusion that his is receiving gifts. He isn’t sure he’ll be able to disguise the reaction on his face if he does.
With fake confidence, Team gestures to his phone and says, “Be my guest,” and then heads to the bathroom to wash up for bed.
He takes his time, but when he emerges, Win is still tapping at the screen, a cute furrow of concentration between his eyebrows. Team slips between the sheets beside him, making an aborted move to pick up his phone from the bedside table, until he remembers Win is holding it. Then he remembers the reason Win is holding it, and has to remind himself that the result doesn’t actually matter. Like Win said earlier, they both help each other in their own ways. It doesn’t matter if Win doesn’t get this right.
Win makes a triumphant noise as he finishes, leaning over Team to place his phone back where it belongs. There’s a confident smile on his face that Team eyes with a slight edge of amusement.
“Well, you certainly seem sure of yourself,” Team observes.
Silently, Win reaches out and Team gravitates to him, settling easily into Win’s arms. Win gazes at him for a second and Team starts to blush at being observed so closely. Just as he begins to squirm, Win kisses him sweet and slow, something beautifully intimate about it. Team sinks into him, and it isn’t until their lips separate that he realises just how close Win has pulled him. There’s not a single part of his body that isn’t touching Win’s, as Win noses over the soft skin of his pulse.
“Team,” Win’s voice is low and teasing in his ear, “Do you wanna be the little spoon?”
Bonus Content - 'Operation Team Gives Back' Group Chat
[Team | 21:22]
i’ve written the best ideas into my notes app
[Pharm | 21:22]
we’ve come up with a lot of good stuff
you do realise that p’win just likes you though right
[Manaow | 21:23]
team should just tie a bow around his neck and give himself to p’win
[Pharm | 21:23]
that would work
[Pharm | 21:28]
team why aren’t you responding
[Manaow | 21:28]
he’s busy thinking about it
[Team | 21:29]
NO I’M NOT
[Pharm | 21:30]
I have some spare ribbon if you need any
[Team | 21:30]
I DON’T
[Manaow | 21:30]
my name is team and i’m a terrible liar
[Team | 21:31]
IDENTITY THEFT ISN'T A JOKE MANAOW
I’M GOING TO BED GOODNIGHT
Private Message to 'Pharm'
[Team | 21:45]
do you really have ribbon
[Pharm | 21:45]
I got you