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There’s nowhere else to sleep in Kit’s apartment but the bed.
Kit stands at the foot of said bed, tapping his feet, impatient with himself. He already showered. He brushed his teeth. He’s in his pajamas. It’s so late that he can’t even use studying as an excuse to stay awake any longer. He needs to sleep before his morning class comes in just a few hours.
And he’s not about to sleep on the floor in his own apartment.
He takes a deep breath and unfolds his arms. He’s being silly about this. He just needs to get under the blanket and close his eyes and morning will be here before he knows it.
“Okay, I’m doing it,” he whispers to himself.
He rounds the corner of the bed, pauses for a second to switch off the light, and then carefully peels back the edge of the blanket. He climbs onto the mattress with as light a touch as possible and wiggles himself beneath the covers, hardly daring to breathe. Once he’s lying flat, he turns his head just a little. Just to see.
Mark hasn’t moved an inch.
Kit huffs out an annoyed breath. All of that effort on his part, but he should have known that it didn’t matter. Mark is too wrecked to wake up for a tornado in the room, let alone Kit tentatively climbing into bed next to him.
Kit narrows his eyes at his sleeping companion, contemplating the tirade that’s pent up inside of him, half-wishing Mark would wake up so Kit can unleash it. He peers at Mark’s neck, but it’s too dark now to really make out the red bruise he saw there earlier. Probably for the best. If Kit could see it, he might not be able to resist pressing his fingers there viciously until Mark does wake up to answer his questions.
Who has been giving him hickeys? Kit doesn’t want to think about this, but it keeps taking over his other thoughts. Who has he been seeing besides me?
Kit huffs again, rolling flat onto his back to stare up at the ceiling.
He really believed Mark. He believed all of his pretty words, his romantic notions, his possessive gestures. He tried not to, but Mark kept showing up, unexpectedly making Kit’s heart flutter. He kept getting closer to Kit, reassuring him with words and actions alike that none of this is the game Kit first assumed it to be. Mark is serious about making Kit his boyfriend. He’s serious about taking care of Kit, about loving him.
Kit believed all of that. He was ready to say yes when Mark asked him. He wanted to say yes so badly.
But he also wanted to help Pha. And Wayu. And Mark’s timing couldn’t have been worse.
When Kit came back to explain, Mark wouldn’t let him. He stood behind that wall of painted parasols with an expression Kit had never seen before, something grim and heartbroken there. Kit wanted to explain — but Mark told him that he was done. Mark told him he was giving up. After everything . After all of those late nights, those endless afternoons, of Kit trying to shake him again and again and Mark refusing to be shaken. After all of that, now Mark wants to give up?
Kit blinks in the darkness, too wired now to even try closing his eyes.
He also believed Mark when he said Kit was the only person he was hitting on. He didn’t at first, but he’d gotten reassurances from…. well, practically everyone. The fact that someone like Mark — who could truly have his pick of nearly anyone on campus — chose to be serious about Kit…? That was the part that made Kit believe all the rest.
That hickey though. Kit can’t pretend that it isn’t there. And knowing Mark has been getting drunk at the bar every night with his seniors… Does that mean he’s been hitting on other people ever since he gave up on Kit?
He can’t get that conversation from this afternoon out of his head.
“I always spot them at that bar. You know why? Because of that college beau freshman from Engineering. His gorgeous face stands out in the middle of that group. Wherever you are in the bar, you’ll see him! It’s such a shame that he’s always wasted. He must have been dumped…”
Kit shakes himself. The other students hadn’t mentioned anything about Mark making out with random people, and Kit has no doubt that would’ve been a juicy topic of discussion had they been aware of even a rumor of it happening. So how did Mark come by that hickey?
Kit squeezes his eyes shut for a moment. This is so stupid. He should not be worried about this. He should trust Mark. Didn’t he just tell him — not that Mark will remember — not to lose faith in Kit? So Kit really shouldn’t lose faith in Mark. Right?
He turns on his side and rests his head on his folded hands. Beside him, Mark still hasn’t moved. Kit took pity and covered him with the blanket before he left to shower, but all Mark did then was murmur something completely incoherent and snuggle deeper into the pillows. He’s in the same position now, head turned toward Kit, one arm tucked beneath the pillow, the other resting over his chest. His hair is tousled, his lips slightly parted. He’s breathing softly, thankfully not snoring although he smells like a distillery.
Kit wrinkles his nose. He should have insisted Mark at least brush his teeth. He has an extra toothbrush for Phai in the bathroom and everything. But then he contemplates the chaos that would have ensued trying to maneuver Mark in and out of the bathroom, and he lets it go. It was difficult enough to get Mark up to the apartment, never mind trying to get him to practice some much-needed personal hygiene.
“P’Kit…”
Kit startles. Mark’s whisper is so faint, just an exhalation really, that he almost thinks he’s imagining it. But then Mark shifts a bit, his brow puckering as his hand reaches into the space between them on the bed.
Kit thinks about moving. He should move. It wouldn’t be difficult to avoid Mark’s blindly questing hand.
He stays still instead.
Mark’s hand finds Kit’s forearm. He lets out a little humming noise of satisfaction and his fingers curl tight against Kit, gripping him like he’ll never let go again.
Kit waits, but Mark doesn’t say anything else. After a few moments, his grip relaxes a bit, and he seems to sink even deeper into sleep.
Kit isn’t sure what to do. Should he push Mark away? Likely, yes. But part of him wants to slide his arm down until he can catch Mark’s fingers in his own, to fall asleep holding Mark’s hand, warm in his own. He wants to feel the physical reassurance that something still exists between them, something that they share.
Instead, Kit does nothing. He lies there quietly, staring at Mark’s shadowed face. He’s wondering what Mark has been thinking about in the small hours of the morning like this. Wonders if Mark has been tossing and turning the way Kit does. Does he also dream about how the day Mark asked him to be his boyfriend could have gone if circumstances were different? Kit has woken up so many times from dreams where Mark’s arms are wrapped around him that he’s taken to throwing all the extra pillows off the bed before he falls asleep just so he doesn’t wake up with aching muscles from where he’s been clutching a pillow tight against him half the night.
Kit can’t help himself. He reaches into the space between them. Lets his fingers hover uncertainly in the air, centimeters from Mark’s face.
That girl’s words echo in his head.
“It’s such a shame that he’s always wasted. He must have been dumped…”
And Kit knows.
He knows that Mark has been drinking so he won’t chase his thoughts in circles into the small hours of the morning like this. He’s been getting wasted precisely so he won’t toss and turn the way Kit does, or have the dreams that Kit does. Is this actually the only way Mark has been able to sleep recently? Kit suddenly wouldn’t doubt it.
He touches one fingertip to Mark’s cheek. The skin there is soft and warm and Kit runs the pad of his finger gently over the curve of Mark’s cheekbone. He traces down his jaw, touches his chin, then stops at his mouth.
He also dreams about kissing Mark. Sometimes it’s like the kiss Kit gave him in his car, sudden and hungry, and sometimes it’s like the kiss Mark returned to him a few days later, slow and gentle, a question more than an answer. But more often, Kit dreams about the sort of domestic kisses he’s never experienced before: chaste kisses to say good morning before breakfast, quick presses of lips to temples just to say “ hello” or “I saw you a few hours ago, but I missed you”, lingering open-mouthed kisses that start by the door but end in the bed…
Kit grazes Mark’s lips with his finger. What he wouldn’t give for Mark to be in his bed for an entirely different reason this evening. What he wouldn’t give to be a different kind of person, to be able to just give in to his impulses and wake Mark with caresses and kisses and whispered words of the adoration Kit knows he feels but can never say out loud.
Kit withdraws. He tucks his hand back beneath his head. He’s not that kind of person, and he doubts he ever will be.
But.
Mark’s interest has already changed Kit in unexpected ways. Didn’t he go to that bar tonight to worry over a man he’s not even dating? Didn’t he take Mark home with him even though he was so wasted Kit almost couldn’t get him up the stairs? And isn’t he right now lying next to Mark in bed, letting Mark hold onto him even though it violates nearly every boundary Kit usually holds so dear?
Kit takes a deep breath and lets it out again slowly. The tension eases from his shoulders. His spine relaxes. He blinks languorously at Mark, distantly aware that every one of Mark’s fingers on his arm feels like a brand, burning hot, marks of longing.
In the morning, Kit will sneak out of the apartment before Mark even wakes up. He’ll call Wayu and tell him to get a better handle on his out-of-control best friend. He’ll go to class and pretend that tonight never happened.
But for now, Kit will sleep secure in the knowledge that he and Mark still want each other. He’ll dream that they can fix what’s broken between them.
As he finally drifts off, he thinks about his reply to Mark’s drunken plea earlier. He knows he can’t say it, no matter how dead asleep Mark seems.
I won’t leave you, Mark. I only have you too.