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For starters, this is his first time getting out of the four corners of the complex.
Maitee doesn't understand why all of a sudden, a plate full of — what's that again, riso…? r-i-s… forget it! — pasta is being served towards him.
He's been used to the usual fast food that her boss would usually bring home, or at worst cases, that one microwaved bowl of macaroni from the local grocery. Nothing ever came close to the drizzled serving of pasta that was currently taking space in the dinner table.
The dinner table that just so happens to be long as hell.
Nobody informed him that he was going to see a bunch of unknown faces in the first place; or that he was going to sit in between the house's resident gardener, Teedet, and… someone.
He doesn't know why the seat to his right is still vacant, despite every chair in the table having its own owner. He shrugs the thought away, taking time to talk to the person in front of him instead, who happens to be the caretaker of their boss' well-prized pupper: T-Rex.
"Hey," It starts off as a hushed tone, until he finds himself nudging him with her own foot from annoyance.
"What?" He whispers back, before taking a big bite of the clubhouse sandwich.
"Do you know who's sitting beside me?" He comes closer to the middle, keeping his voice to a minimum so as to not catch his bosses' attention.
"Who? Teedet?" He asks, dumbfounded.
"No," Maitee rolled his eyes.
"I meant the other side!"
"Don't know," T-Rex responds with his mouth full, with a matching shrug.
"Why do you care?" He follows nonchalantly. Classic T-Rex. The nosy one.
The house cook avoids the younger one's gaze which was piercing yet innocent at the same time.
"Can't I be curious? This is our first time to share dinner outside with Miss Pim and you expect me to remain calm?!"
Pim.
A breadwinner of her own, who currently handles almost a hundred branches of her bakery in Thailand.
The same Miss Pim that Teedet, T-Rex, and Maitee happened to work for.
How she manages to pay all her workers still remains a mystery for him, but it was enough for him to sustain his studying.
Who was he to snoop anyway? It's not like he was a part of the paparazzi in her past life, and neither were he interested in her investments and stocks — what matters is that she, along with her adopted son, Tee-do, are both satisfied with the food he cooks every day.
It's the same cycle everyday: he cooks for the three's breakfast, lunch, and dinner, T-Rex takes Jab out for walks and feeds him, and Teedet cares for the bonsais and the cacti (and for some reason, pays way too much attention to Tee-do's bonsai he brought for show and tell in fifth grade) because that's what he's good at.
But everything changes when Miss Pim suddenly invites all of them — and for once, he gets tired of being introduced to almost everyone in the group, not to mention that he can't even digest the food, but who was he to be ungrateful?
He cannot even get past the 25 rounds of Miss Pim introducing him to everyone, but he shakes the thought away. However, he learns more about them as the greetings pass by.
That it's a dinner between twin sisters: Ploy and Pim. That Miss Ploy is oddly related to T-Rex for some reason.
That she has no one left but her son — who also happens to be a little scoundrel at times, like she says he is — by her side. That he barely goes home.
From the story itself, it's normal to feel upset towards the son, right? Hell, Maitee doesn't even know the boy personally, but a pang in his heart tells him there's more than meets the eye.
Somehow, he feels... something else can change his mind.
"Watee?"
He feels as if every noise in the restaurant falls to the ground. He only hears Miss Ploy's voice; and for what it's worth, he dares himself to look up.
And he blamed the heavens for letting him do so.
It did not warn him that he was crossing the line. It did not give him any sign that he was going to play with fire — and that he would delve in it, further, despite the danger.
Maitee didn't even notice how he was mindlessly chewing his food... but all his attention was all on him.
Miss Ploy was right: things always go his way.
Watee's way.
"Sorry," He forces himself to say. "I'm late… mom."
Next thing the cook knows, Watee's already managing to move the chair beside him, causing the other to grow conscious of the space between.
He rushes to take a mental note: that their shoulders should not brush nor should their knees become in close contact.
It's difficult. (An overstatement, if he were to be honest.)
Hard, rather, to not look at the boy beside him.
Watee doesn't greet him, which he silently thanks the heavens for. Yet he still calculates whether their elbows will nudge every time he picks on his food, because he know he will end up fucking it; bigtime.
"So how are things going on at home, Watee?" Tee-do breaks the ice, and for someone who is known for being a typical conversation starter, it's weird for Maitee to see Tee-do like this.
For an odd reason, Maitee finds his lips curling into a little grin; but tries to cover it up, taking a swig of the ice-cold water from the wine glass.
"What do you mean?" Watee responds, almost as if it's a huff.
"What are you up to?" Tee-do reiterates his question, even doing animated gestures in an attempt to lift the mood.
"Nothing much, I've been into work," He replies in a deadpan manner.
"Oh," The other son had no choice but to cut the conversation, noticing how Watee was obviously uninterested.
That didn't stop Maitee from being curious, still.
He finds himself sneaking a glance; once or twice, whilst taking bites of the indigestible pasta.
As if there were no spirals brewing inside his stomach.
He comes to think of it: isn't it just thin air? The battered boy refused to believe those books he'd believed and read when he was younger. That those seemingly butterflies circling in and out of his system were only a product of pocketbooks and romcoms. No more, no less.
"Son," Miss Ploy calls the lost boy beside Maitee.
Watee gives an eyebrow raise back. The cook chews his food in silence, giving them their space.
"Ink told me you weren't visiting her anymore."
Watee's nose crinkles in disgust, and Maitee knew from that exact moment, this family dinner wasn't going to end well. At all.
"She's not my girlfriend anymore," He mutters underneath his breath, and for a split second, Maitee's heart skips a beat of its own when Watee avoids his mom's gaze, forcing him to turn to the other side.
Which is in fact, Maitee's side.
He acts normal. Or at least, just even try to do so.
Stiff limbs? Check.
Palms that grow sweaty — that with just one mishap, he might drop those utensils? Check.
A heartbeat so damn fast that he can't even drink water without going crazy? A big fat check.
In short, Maitee was nowhere near normal.
So much for trying to act like he is, huh?
"Do you really not have any ounce of respect for her? She helped you get through every single day while you're away and you're just going to discredit her like that?" Ploy argues, clearly in disbelief as she puts down her utensils.
"How many times do I have to tell you that we broke up already, Mom?!" Shit. He’s mad. Mad mad.
Definitely not going well!
Maitee nudges himself closer to Teedet’s side, feeling the tension rise within the boy sitting beside him. “So you’re just going to shut her out like that? Watee—”
“Mom, you’re embarrassing me so much that you even forget we’re in public,” Watee runs his hand through his hair, mumbling through his teeth. He buries a hand further inside his pocket, feeling his nails dig on the surface of his palm.
“I just want to know why. Why can’t you give her a break?”
Watee ducks his head down, letting go of his spoon and fork with a heavy sigh. Maitee gulps; he knows he’s fed up.
It’s his last straw.
In a fast pace, Watee stands up, subtly sliding his chair to the side, startling Maitee. Hands are being slammed on the table, finishing off with a snicker to himself. The next thing the cook knows, he’s already lost attention to everything else, except the fuming boy.
“Why can’t you give me a break, huh?” He spat out.
“So rich yet you can’t even call your son up and want him back home. And you’re telling me to give her a break?”
“Are you really fucking kidding me right now?” Maitee finds himself chewing his lip in nervousness as Watee finds the courage to curse in a restaurant.
He bets he doesn’t care. He would brush it off as nothing.
He’d forget about it minutes later because he’s Watee.
Ploy’s eyes widened at what Watee, her own son, just told her. She breathes deeply, feeling her eyes getting coated with tears.
Whatever she did, it wasn’t enough for her son at all. Less than he expected. Less than he ever needed.
Much less than he ever needed from a mother like her.
“Excuse me.”
Soon enough, the table was one less of a person.
Maitee had no one sitting next to him, again.
For some reason, guilt is eating him alive. He can’t even look at Ploy without thinking about Watee’s outburst nor can he dare to start a small conversation with the others because it’s just not the time.
Maitee plays a little game in his head: to go or not to go. To follow Watee wherever the hell he is because a peacemaking cook with no say whatsoever wants to resonate with the lost boy or to stay and let his thoughts drown him alive — and allow himself to wallow with the what-ifs and missed opportunities.
He clutches the duffel bag slung around the chair, and switches looks between Pim, T-Rex, and Teedet. Nudging T-Rex’s foot along with a slightly believable wink, he slowly stands up, tightly gripping the strap of his bag.
With his head ducked down, knees trembling (because he hasn’t done this before and chasing after an obviously upset volcano wasn’t helping either), and an apologetic smile, the cook clears his throat in front of everyone else, catching their attention in the process.
“Miss Pim,” He says in his usual timid and hesitant tone. “Can I go out? I just need to go to the bathroom, but it’s outside.” He was lying at the tip of his tongue, but what can he do? He feels bad that he had to lie to his boss but at the same time, letting go of that one chance seemed worse than everything.
“Sure, Maitee.” She gives him a crooked smile, giving her cook a glint that maybe only she can understand.
Maitee trudges subtly out the venue, his worn-out bag still slung around his arms.
Then he bolts away like his life depends on it.
It’s safe to say that he has never run this fast before.
But he did. Miraculously.
His feet dragged him to a secluded spot of the park, not too far from the restaurant. He can still see the mellow lighting of the place they just ate at which makes him a bit relieved.
Maitee walks a bit. Treading a few steps so as to not disturb anyone. Or make it seem like he’s an esteemed escape artist.
And there he goes — ending up in front a park bench, with a forlorn-looking Watee, a frown on his lips. Anger doesn’t look good on him as much as the boy thinks he does, in fact, Maitee thinks he’s horrible while angry.
It just makes Ploy’s gossip 10 times more believable, even if Maitee doesn’t want to believe anything she said earlier.
“Wa-” Before he could even speak, Watee cuts him off.
“Why did you follow me here?” The boy retorts, eyes fixed on the ground and not at Maitee.
Before the cook could even open his mouth and stand up for himself, the other already had another batch of complaints thrown towards him.
“I don’t even know you,” He chuckles in a bittersweet manner and his eyes flicker to the obviously startled Maitee.
“You don’t even know me, and you decide to follow me in the middle of the night?”
Watee gives him one full look before returning his attention back to the concrete.
“You don’t even know what you’re getting yourself into.” It seemed like a normal, nonchalant statement for the boy, but the other had another perspective towards it.
“I know,” Maitee attempts, gulping all the nervousness piling on his throat. “You think that no one understands you, but—”
“You do?” Watee looks at Maitee intently, a pained expression written all on the seemingly stingy boy’s face.
Then he does another eye roll. Looks back again in disbelief. A laugh escapes his lips.
“Come on,” He defeatedly says, “Have you got any other excuse that’s more lamer than I understand you?”
Maitee, on the other hand, cannot believe the words that left Watee’s mouth. At this time of distress, he did not expect the other to just trash his attempt of forming a bond like it’s some cheap, chewed gum. But then, after all, who was a simple sleepless and lonely cook to judge him?
Watee did have a point, somehow — Maitee had absolutely no knowledge of him. How his mind works, how he looks at people when he’s sad, the reason for his anger, his hardships; of course the cook never had the time to look over his background.
But for some reason, Maitee decides to erase that and push those thoughts away.
“I’m not here to backstab you or to make fun of you. Ms. Ploy or Ms. Pim didn’t ask me to be here. I went here because I wanted to,” He starts. “I ran all that and everything else because I really want to help you. I know you just need someone, I see it.”
“Help my ass. Be realistic,” Watee stands up, nudging Maitee’s temple with his index finger to prove his point. “I’m not basic and I definitely do not need your help. Don’t you have work to do? Pasta to digest?” The boy eyes him up and down, a look of disgust forming on his face.
Maitee sighs to himself, the idea rummaging through his mind suddenly growing more and more possible as the moment passes by. I don’t care if he’ll find this embarrassing. Double or nothing, then!
In a fast motion, he zips his duffel bag open, bringing out a reusable container with macaroni inside. He hands it out for Watee to see, the latter’s head cocking to the side, not understanding what Maitee meant.
“It’s mac and cheese. Cooked it in case I couldn’t eat anything for dinner.” Maitee explains. “You barely ate anything earlier.” He pursed his lips, waiting for the other’s answer.
Watee moves Maitee’s outstretched arm with his own, swatting it away. It makes Maitee hold the container back to his chest, still not getting the reason why Watee is exhibiting such rash behavior. I thought no one could ever say no to my mac and cheese… that boy Tee-do really filling my head with lies.
“Look, can you just stop? I don’t even know your name. Stop snooping and for once, mind your own business, maybe? And how come you even know how little I ate? You’re too engrossed that you’re looking like a creep.” Watee says, annoyed.
“I’m supposed to be alone here, with fresh air, having inner peace, but no! You made it worse, you’re making yourself look bad and you’re trying so hard for nothing. You’re not going to get anything and you’re not going anywhere.”
“If I were you, I would’ve got lost and ate to my heart’s content.” Watee sneaks a glance towards Maitee, who he notices was on the brink of tears. His glossy eyes say so. God, what a vulnerable dummy.
Maitee heavily sighs to himself.
“Then let me be alone with you.”
Watee gets caught off guard with Maitee’s words. What the hell is he saying? At this hour?
“Can you give yourself a break, Watee? I may not know every single thing about you but just for once, can you not shut someone out? We’re both tired and yet you’re still wasting your time pushing me away. Isn’t that too tiring? Aren’t you exhausted?”
“Cut yourself some slack. Please. You need one. In exchange, let me eat in peace, at least with anyone. I’m giving you the freedom.” Maitee offers.
“I don’t even owe you anything.” Watee mumbled, hoping that Maitee wouldn't hear it.
But he does.
“Exactly,”
“And if I were you,” Maitee points to Watee’s chest — that had a heartbeat so arguably fast he could faint.
“I’d take this over anything at this point.”
Watee bites his lip. He’s stricken by guilt but at the same time, a part of him still wants to be fully alone.
And some part of him wants to know how it is to be alone with someone.
“I hope you know I hate you.” Watee blurts out, head ducked down. “For what? For annoying you, pushing your buttons, making you feel like crap--" Maitee pretends to count with his fingers.
"No, dumbass." Watee shakes his head.
“I hate you for making me change my mind.”
No one would imagine the reckless and uptight Watee sitting next to the shy and selfless Maitee and his prized bowl of macaroni and cheese — but in a surprising turn of tables, he does.
He hates that he's enjoying it.
He hates the fact that he's actually finding some sense of comfort that he didn't even find once in the four corners of his mother's home.
Lounging next to a mediocre cook picking off his food was not what he ideally wanted as his definition of solace and comfort; but it's starting to look like so.
"So from what I've heard," Watee still doesn't plan to look Maitee completely in the eye. "You cook for my aunt?"
"Yes, and I wash the dishes. T-Rex, the one shorty with glasses, he helps me sometimes. But I tell him not to." Maitee narrates, a little grin appearing on his lips. "It's not his job to do anyways."
"You refuse to get any help? Are you kidding me?" Watee replies, shocked and still in disbelief at the same time.
"Again, it's not his job." Maitee talks despite his mouth being stuffed with macaroni. Watee cannot help but notice this, resulting in him being a chuckling mess thereafter.
"What? What's wrong?"
"You really cannot eat that pasta from that place, can you?" He says in a teasing tone.
"You do not wanna know," Maitee says, shaking his head as the thought of the weird-tasting fancy pasta already makes him shudder to the core.
"Either way," The sound of his chopsticks hitting his container and him happily munching was the only thing Watee could hear.
"This isn't what I'm supposed to end up with."
"Oh?" Watee adjusts his position, finding the topic interesting. "You don't seem like you entirely hate your job."
"Yup. It's because I've wanted to take something similar. Gastronomy in college. But I was out of luck and money, so I ended up working for your aunt."
"Seems fair." Watee shrugged, not knowing what to say towards Maitee.
"How about you?" The cook returns the question.
"Always dreamt of getting lost. But I wanted to do it with Mom," He cleared his throat to sound strong. As if he's not affected one bit.
"We would do so many things together. Maybe even get a house and it's just the two of us. Not with a bunch of people I barely even know because I rarely went home,"
"Maybe take her out to a restaurant. Much fancier than that. Spoil her. Then we'd…" Watee stops once he feels a tight feeling in his throat. Fuck. I'm about to cry, aren't I?
"We'd bake cakes. Yeah… that one with cherries. Then I'd eat the hell out of those," Maitee can't help but look at Watee with such adoration as if he's some beautiful flower he finds on such sidewalks.
He sadly smiles, raising a hand to rub Watee on the arm. And maybe tell him that it's alright.
"But she's just too dense! That's why I'm never home. Tell me, can you be in the same room with someone who doesn't understand anything you do and brings up some useless shit you've done three years ago?" He turns towards Maitee, tearing up due to frustration.
"No." Maitee replies.
"Imagine bringing back your ex for three years. Who in their right mind wouldn't be upset? I mean, Ink has been my friend for so long… of course she'd have the tendency to help me." Water pauses, subtly wiping off a tear, silently hoping the other doesn’t see this quite vulnerable side of him.
"It's like I have no one at this point."
You have me.
But Maitee doesn’t say it, though. Or well, almost does.
“You…” He trails off, cutting himself mid-sentence realizing how awkward the other’s reaction might be.
To make things worse, Watee turns to him, giving full attention. Even raising an eyebrow to show he’s waiting for what he’s going to say.
“You don’t deserve that.” Maitee nods his head to his own statement, as if giving himself a personal pat on the back.
“Thanks,” Watee replies in a hesitant manner, still feeling the awkwardness towards Maitee.
His trust has a long way to go — but little by little, Watee can somehow find a common ground of comfort between him and Maitee.
"And I don't know if this helps but…"
"My presence is still… somehow there." Maitee stammers towards the end, realizing how weird that sounded.
"Wait, did you hear that? That's so weird, please don't-" He rambles, finding ways to divert the sentence.
"No, thank you." Watee says, shrugging.
"At least I know someone still wants me to the point where they'll chase me to a park. And bear with an explosive-like human."
The two chuckle in unison, Maitee smiling to himself.
The cook gets one last scoop of macaroni and swallows it whole before hurriedly closing his container. Watee's eyebrows furrowed in confusion, wondering as to why the other is acting like there's a taxi waiting for him.
"I-I need to go." Maitee says, like he's hit by a sudden realization. He immediately tries to fit the container inside his bag, not caring if the zipper couldn't pass through.
"Oh," The other says, but clears his throat in an attempt to hide the disappointment in his voice.
Maitee stands up, bag slung on one of his arms, a timid smile on his lips. He dusts his pants with his hands, before looking back to a stoic (and quite sad?) Watee.
"Um… how are you going to get home?"
"Pretty sure there are still taxis. I can manage." He doesn't dare look at Maitee.
"Are you sure?" Maitee asks, unconvinced.
"Yeah," Watee flashes him a grin and a thumbs up. The cook sighs in defeat.
"Okay. Whatever you say." He concedes, walking away from Watee.
He thinks he's done — they have talked and shared so much, but he won't allow this one moment to be the end.
Maitee stops in his tracks; before turning to face Watee who was already standing and fixing his shirt and denim jacket.
"Hey, um, I hope we still get to talk after this."
"I don't think you would want that." Watee replied, scratching his nape.
"I do," Maitee cracks a smile that's wider and sweeter than any piece of candy — enough for a small grin to appear on Watee's lips as well.
"I really do." He nods his head before running away back to the restaurant, the younger watching him intently before his own eyes.
It was an understatement to say that Maitee somehow managed to lift his mood in a matter of minutes? Hours? He wasn't counting.
All that mattered was the fact the cook gave him reasons to smile. He just doesn't know that the cook himself is the reason why he's smiling like a lovesick puppy.
And in the deep ends of his heart — he hopes and wishes and even prays that they'll cross paths once again; that he'll reach that phase where Watee himself will be the one chasing now, the one running after Maitee.
For some reason, he finds him nice. He has layers. He's well-mannered and kind and hesitant that Watee finds it absolutely adorable. He hates that it's going to be the only thing leaving his lips for the next 24 hours.
The next 48 hours.
The next 30 days.
The next year.
Watee Reuangritthiroj has hated the word 'trust' almost his entire life.
But maybe Maitee could be the only exception.