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Of course it would happen to him.
This was just his luck.
He gave a loud, frustrated groan at the helplessness of the situation. He weighed his options of what he should do next, mentally ticking them off as he went.
His first option would have been Tutah. Normally he would have gone directly to his place, but the man was on a gay getaway to “find the love of his life”, or so he had said.
Knot was away on a business trip. Crossed him off of the list.
Prem was... he paused at that thought, shuddered at the last time he had tried to go over to his place at this time of night. He would like to avoid a repeat performance of that unfortunate time, thank you very much. So Prem was out of the question.
He hesitated with his last choice.
He didn’t want to incur the Kraken’s wrath at this ungodly hour but he was out of options at this point. He resigned himself to facing the lesser evil, mentally fortifying himself for the decision he was about to make. He heaved another ragged sigh, rubbing a hand through his face, anxious and tired. His head was throbbing, his heart was broken, and his hand itched with the urge to do something that would end in regret.
He hailed a cab and slurred the address to the taxi driver to take him to his destination.
---
Loud, raucous banging sounded against the apartment door, the knocks incessant and obnoxious in their noise level and increasing frequency. People were being roused from their slumber by the disturbance that echoed the hallways of the apartment complex.
A harried shuffle could be heard from behind the door, someone possibly tripping on something and cursing on the way over. A head popped out unceremoniously. Arthit opened the door, hair in complete disarray, breathing slightly labored, a pale blush across his cheeks and blossomed on his chest, eyes suspicious and weary at the uninvited nuisance at his door.
“Why are you here at 4 in the morning?” Arthit had hissed, annoyance clear on his face.
Bright swayed, placing open palms against the wall to steady himself and grinned widely, lopsided from the alcohol and the frenetic, lonely beating of his heart. Never let it be said that Bright didn't know how to make an entrance.
Arthit must have seen something in his smile, because he didn't continue scolding him like usual, and instead quickly ushered him in, to return the peace to the empty corridors and the silent building.
Arthit led Bright to the sectional sofa, gently but firmly depositing him to the comfortable couch, frowning once more at the sight before him. Bright made himself comfortable on the plush pillows that laid haphazardly on the couch, as if someone had recently battled with the large chair and lost. He didn’t pause to think about why that may have been.
“I’ll go make you a cup of coffee,” Arthit murmured, half to himself, going through the motions as a distracted host, to ease the lines of tension that lay heavy on Bright’s shoulders. Bright felt himself relax a fraction of an inch, comforted by Arthit fussing over him. Arthit turned on a light in the kitchen, fumbling about to get the rinds to make a fresh pot of coffee. He'd always been that way, even in their university days. Arthit portrayed himself as gruff on the exterior, but truly was the kindest and warmest of their motley group of friends. It was why Bright chose to go here-- partially. Kind of.
"P'Arthit, is everything all right out there?"
A voice drifted from inside the bedroom.
Of course. How could he have forgotten, Bright mentally facepalmed to himself, recognizing the voice as his junior's. Arthit had mentioned in the group chat that Kongpob had just returned to the city from a business deal he had to close in Phuket. Bright had completely forgotten that in his haste to get to Arthit's apartment and in a delirious state of mind. He knew when he was intruding on his friend’s time with his boyfriend. He made to leave, getting up from the couch.
"Sorry, Thit, I didn't mean to interrupt. I'll find a taxi and take my leave--", he had started, jacket half on and one sleeve in the process of being donned again. He paused halfway through his sentence, hearing footsteps padding across the floor. Kongpob emerged from the bedroom, shirtless.
“P’Bright, it’s nice to see you.”
“Hey N’Kong, been awhile. Sorry for interrupting you guys so late.”
Kongpob casually shrugged his shoulders, a kind smile on his lips.
Bright stared appreciatively at Kongpob's shirtlessness, musing to himself that in another lifetime, in another universe, he probably would have tried to get at that. What? It wasn’t really any surprise. He was a healthy, full-blooded man, he had perfectly working eyes, he knew hotness when it stood in front of him. And Kongpob was hot. Objectively speaking. It was unfair, really, how scorchingly handsome he was with his perfect body and perfect manners and perfect life, to boot. It probably wouldn’t have worked out between them, in that alternate universe. Besides, he contemplated, Arthit would still end up together with Kongpob regardless of what alternate universe they were in. Those two were made for each other. No parallel world would stop them from finding each other again and falling in love with one another, Bright was sure of it.
“I’ll go help P’Arthit in the kitchen. Please make yourself at home.”
Kongpob’s gentle voice soothed him further, placating him as he sat back on the couch, taking to the subtle sounds that emanated from the kitchen as Arthit continued to rummage around the kitchen, grabbing cups from the cabinet, sugar from the pantry, condensed milk from the fridge. Kongpob confidently strode over to Arthit, talking to his lover in hushed tones, nodding at whatever he was saying, lending a hand while Arthit gave instructions.
Bright observed the scene before him, as Kongpob placed a hand on the small of Arthit’s back, whispering to him, a small smile peeking through. They moved in tandem, like a well-oiled machine, at ease with each other, sharing subtle touches in between what they were doing, eyes trained on the other with tender fondness even as they continued on with the task at hand. They breathed each other’s air like it was the only thing keeping them alive, the world around them condensed down to that small bubble only meant for them, love blanketing their steady, lovestruck inhales and smitten smiles exhaling from their mouths easily, naturally.
Bright had to look away, a solemn, disheartening emotion sitting heavy on his tongue, constricting his throat, swallowing the bitter pill back down into his pit of his stomach. Bright’s heart twinged at the breakup from hours earlier. She had broken up with him, saying they weren’t meant for each other, extolling his vices and ignoring his virtues. He drank too much, he slept too little, and he nursed his hangovers like they were his lovers. It may have been why this most recent relationship had been doomed from the start. He quashed all of his feelings down, refusing to acknowledge the dull ache it brought him, combined together with the excess amount of alcohol he had consumed. He was content, instead, to pseudo psychoanalyze someone else's relationship while decidedly ignoring his own failed one.
In contrast, Arthit’s relationship with Kongpob was five years and going strong. And just like being a genius at engineering, Arthit was brilliant at being in love as well, which was wholly unfair because Bright’s name was Bright, for fuck’s sake. It should have been him that was given an abundance of luck in life and in love. His life should have been lit up with romance and all that he could want. But he wasn’t and isn’t, and that’s why he was here in the first place. Ugh, he needed another drink if he was going to go down this line of thinking. A stiff one.
He had nothing to say to anyone nor did he want his thoughts to descend further, so his eyes started to roam around the room, the percolating of coffee bubbling in the background. Bright’s gaze swept over everything, cataloguing the life of Arthit and Kongpob in the process. There were traces of both of them everywhere he looked-- two sets of keys hanging next to the front door; two jackets haphazardly strewn over the dining table; the wall adorned with photos of them and portraits of friends and family; memorabilia from their early years of courtship to their anniversary gifts of late; the coffee table in front of couch, precisely chosen with both of their styles in mind, with an eclectic collection of books atop the same table; love exuded from every corner of the house. It's not like he hadn't been to their place before, but this was the first time Bright had the chance to take a closer gander at their place. He was nothing if not an observant man. It’s how he had coasted through life thus far. It's how he did so well with the ladies. Most of the time. Half of the time. Some of the time.
The sound of plates clinking and cabinets closing distracted him, Arthit coming closer with two cups of coffee in his hands. Kongpob followed closely behind, holding another mug for himself and a plate of snacks. Bright was grateful for their interruption. He was starting to feel rather maudlin and it really wasn’t him.
Arthit gently placed the cup in front of Bright, putting the second one close by and walked away to the room. Kongpob held on to his mug, cupping the ceramic and enjoying the heat emitting from it. He sat on the opposite end of the L-shaped sofa, enough space between Kongpob and Bright, sharing a companionable silence, both of them awaiting Arthit’s return. The quiet stretched on. Bright was the first to break the silence.
“I’m kind of drunk.”
“So I see.”
“I woke you guys up.”
“We were already u-- it’s fine, you didn’t wake us up.”
“My head is spinning.”
“Drink the coffee, P’Bright, it will help.”
A pause.
“She broke up with me.”
“I’m sorry to hear that, P’Bright.”
“It’s fine,” Bright brushed off the sadness that threatened to envelop him, “we weren’t a good fit anyway. I’m too good for her. I mean, look at me.”
He didn’t know if he meant it in a positive light or a self-deprecating way. It hurt to think about. Bright broke into a watery laugh. He took a swig of the coffee, letting the taste linger.
They both cradled their mugs, steam wafting in the quiet left behind, sips replacing words and conversation. A few moments into the lull, Bright had a sudden need to know.
“N'Kong, I have a question to ask you.”
“Sure P’Bright, what is it?”
Bright hesitated to ask, but dozed ahead.
“How did you know that Arthit was the one for you?”
Kongpob blinked in surprise, not expecting that question from his senior. A million words tumbled about in his brain, none of them even close to properly explaining how Arthit was the only person in Kongpob’s entire life who brought such warmth into his whole being that it filled all the cold, empty spaces in his heart, how Arthit had singlehandedly become the hearth of his home, how he was the Sun and Kongpob was the world that revolved around him, forever in his orbit. Kongpob tried to convey all of that, emotions overflowing as he spoke.
“People think that I’m the strong one of the two of us, but it’s P’Arthit who’s been the anchor in this relationship. He loves enough for the both of us, which makes me want to love him even more. When I think I’ve learned the limitations of what love is, he surpasses that expectation and leaves me wanting more. I want to do more for him, be more for him. The moment I knew that I loved P’Arthit, that was it. Really, there was no one else for me once P’Arthit came into the picture. I want to build a future with him, together for the rest of our lives.”
The rest of Kongpob’s words stuttered off, wrapped itself on his tongue as the other occupant of the house was making his return. The corner of his mouth curling up, tender and besotted. Kongpob’s eyes met Arthit’s as he was coming back, t-shirt in hand, stretching one arm out to hand it to his beloved. His eyes were shining with such affection for him. Bright doesn’t think he’s ever seen two people more in love than in that millisecond of eye contact, all of their emotions playing on their faces over a damn shirt. It was almost baffling. But it also made complete sense. These were the moments that people never saw, that they weren’t privy to in the daytime, the things that carried on into the late hours. It made Bright yearn for a love he could never have. He hid it with a yawn.
“All right kids, it’s been fun but I gotta crash.”
“Bright, you can stay here for the night, er, morning.”
“If you guys insist.”
Bright dove head first into the couch, snagging an errant pillow on the way to cushion his head. His eyes felt heavy, sleep-laden, drowsy. Arthit took the blanket he held in his other hand, placing it on top of Bright, tucking him in. He was out like a light. The couple quietly tiptoed back to their room, light touches between them with the promise of more. Bright was already knocked out at this point, snoozing like a freight truck had hit him. The last sounds heard were loud snoring, and a kiss behind closed doors.
---
Never let it be said that Bright was not magnanimous, as he slipped away in the later morning after a scant two hours of sleep, a cup of pink milk and soy milk placed on the kitchen counter, a hastily scribbled note saying ‘thanks’ written to the gracious couple.
He slipped out the door, closing it with both hands so as to not make a sound. He stood in the hallway, taking in a deep breath. He felt much lighter now that he had some shut eye, more like himself. The alcohol was probably still coursing through his veins, mind you, but he felt more or less like the Bright that everyone knew and loved. He’d be fine, in the end. It always turned out fine; no sense in worrying about it any more. He whistled, in higher spirits today, making his way to the elevators.
He promised himself he was never going to drink that much again.
(Probably.)