Archive of Our Own ^beta

Zee wakes with his skin feeling too warm. It's not an uncommon feeling in Thailand, the weather unforgiving with its humidity and heat on most days, but he knows it's different today.

What they don't tell you about the entertainment industry is that you get used to being watched. Whether it be your physical self or your words or your actions, some part of you is always being scrutinised.

It doesn't happen often, but some days, Zee will wake and feel like every cell in his body is on alert, screaming at him: Run. Hide. Do not even breathe.

You are not safe here.

He knows, in some distant, rational part of his brain, that he isn't in any danger. No one is actually watching him; there are no cameras flashing blind spots into his vision—no microphones shoved too close to his face—no paparazzi hiding in the bushes waiting for him to slip up.

Yesterday had been fine; he'd been productive, and smiling had come easy to him. Though he'd been tired by the end of it all, it'd been a good day.

But today, when he blinks his eyes open, everything feels wrong. Like overnight, the world had experienced some invisible but life-altering change—as if everyone had started breathing nitrogen instead.

The ceiling above his head is not his own, painted in an off-white colour that is familiar regardless. Aof's house is a comfortable place for him most days, but suddenly the window casting sunlight onto the bed feels too exposing.

He knows, he knows, Aof's house is safe.

Except it isn't, and despite every protesting voice in his head telling him to stay still, he bolts out of bed, just stopping himself from breaking his nose against the wall when the blanket tangles around his legs. He whips the curtains shut, then dives back onto the bed.

The room is plunged in darkness, just the smallest wedge of light leaking in from beneath the curtain, but Zee still feels the simmering paranoia beneath his skin. His heartbeat pounds in his ears, his breath coming out shaky and too loud as adrenaline overcomes him—possesses him.

The house is too quiet, even with the sounds of cars filtering in from outside and the whirring hum of some appliance from another room. He'd let himself sleep in because he had no morning schedule, but that meant Aof had likely already left, and Zee had been too tired last night to notice if anyone else had decided to stay the night. There's a ringing in his ears, and it's sharp and niggling and completely unrelentless.

He's getting himself too worked up, and he knows it, but knowing is one thing and being able to stop it is another. Zee has handled this before, and each time, he thinks he'll know better the next time, but somehow it's even worse—he knows exactly what's going wrong, and it's all useless to him anyways because he can't stop.

He is a deer caught in the headlights, knowing the car is approaching—the car isn't stopping—seeing it with his own eyes, his mind racing, racing, racing—he needs to do something—it's going to hurt—oh god, it's so close—it's speeding up—why won't it stop—and still, his legs lock up, he can't do anything but brace himself, eyes squeezed shut, and he thinks, when's it going to hit me? How bad is the damage going to be? Oh god, why can't it just be over with?

He doesn't know how or when, but somehow he ends up with his legs tucked against his chest, chin resting on his knees, blanket thrown over his head. His hands are trembling badly—so utterly out of his control—as he presses them to his ears against the ringing. His skin is too hot, the air beneath the blanket stuffy and dusty, but removing it is not an option because it is not safe out there.

The blanket is scratchy against his skin, and it's something he latches onto, trying to ground himself before he truly sinks down under. Even with the muggy air, Zee forces himself to breathe.

Time passes by differently tucked underneath the blanket, and even when he manually gets his breathing back into a steady rhythm, the world feels lethargic and sluggish and offbeat.

Slowly, as if expecting something to jump out at him, he pokes his head free of the blanket. He's calmer now, but the last of the nerves tickle along the edges of his consciousness, and he doesn't truly let the blanket fall away until he's scanned every corner of the room.

Then—

A quiet knock on the door, and Zee tenses again, shoving the blanket back up around his shoulders.

Danger, his mind screams, Danger Danger Dange—

"Hia?" The knock comes again, slightly louder. Zee knows the voice, is suddenly overwhelmingly grateful that only one person calls him 'Hia'. "Are you awake yet?"

"Nunew?" he rasps out, just to confirm, and the door swings open.

"Mm, good morning, Hia," Nunew–it is Nunew–timidly peeks in, hands steepling together to wai at him. "I was going to—"

Nunew cuts himself off, eyes seemingly adjusting to the darkness of the room well enough to realise that something was wrong. He tilts his head, losing the shyness he always has around Zee, stepping further into the room and gently closing the door behind him.

"Hia?"

Zee coughs to clear his throat, having to consciously release his deathgrip on the blanket. Nunew pads towards the bed, hands raised slightly like he's scared of spooking Zee. He settles himself lightly on the edge of the bed, eyes darting over Zee's face.

A look like that should make Zee's skin crawl, the assessment in his eyes reminiscent of people looking to pick him apart, but Nunew just watches him calmly, face neutral as he takes in Zee's sweat-damp hair, his chapped lips, the tremble in his hands that he hasn't quite managed to quell.

It's so far off how Nunew usually is—some days still too shy to even look him in the eye without turning a pretty shade of red—that it shocks something in Zee, pulling him a comfortable distance away from that panicked edge.

It's then that Nunew opens up his arms, and asks him in a sweet voice, "Hug?"

The air in the room is uncomfortably warm, and he can feel sweat collecting in the dip of his collarbone, but Zee finds himself wanting the comfort offered anyways, so he shuffles into his arms. Nunew's arms close around him tightly, hands coming to settle on his back. Zee's tank top clings to his back, his skin sticky with sweat, but Nunew doesn't pay any mind to it, only pulling him in closer.

Zee is taller than him, with broader shoulders too, but as he lets himself sink into the comfort of Nunew's hug, he feels small. Vulnerable, in a way, but when Nunew rests his cheek on top of his head, gently patting his back with one hand, Zee can't bring himself to mind.

He closes his eyes and breathes properly for the first time in what feels like hours, and is endeared by the mellow, sweet scent of Nunew's shampoo in his hair. It's such a mindless little detail, but it calms the scared little creature in his head, and finally the itch under his skin subsides.

Nunew keeps holding onto him, even after Zee lets out a quiet sigh against the skin of his neck, but interrupts the silence to say, "I was going to ask Hia if he wanted breakfast."

Zee huffs, raising a hand in Nunew's general direction to make a so-so gesture. He has no appetite, but knows well enough that some food will make him feel better.

"Does Hia not want to talk today?"

His knee-jerk reaction is that he could probably talk if he worked up the effort; that in the entertainment industry, not talking isn't an option. But Nunew's voice is low and quiet, mindful of overwhelming him, and it makes Zee feel comfortable enough to nod against his shoulder.

"That’s okay," Nunew tells him, tapping his fingers on Zee's scapula, "Nhu can do the talking today. Hia doesn't have to say anything if he doesn't want to."

He pauses, then adds, "And I'm saying Hia definitely needs to eat. I'm hungry too."

The abrupt brattiness startles Zee enough that he pulls back to bark out a laugh, his shoulders shaking and eyes crinkling up. It's not a long laugh, but it feels good, and Nunew looks at him, satisfied.

It's strange, he thinks, that Nunew can look at him so normally, as if he hadn't just had to comfort someone nine years his senior. But then Nunew stands from the bed, tugging on Zee's forearm to get him to stand too, lightly pushing him in the direction of the bathroom, and the thought leaves him. "Hia should brush his teeth. Nhu will handle breakfast."

Nunew waits for Zee to nod before he leaves the room, the sound of his footfalls muffled by fluffy socks as he makes his way to the kitchen. Zee stays there, listening to them fade away until he can't hear them anymore, then goes to brush his teeth.

He takes longer in the bathroom than he expects, startled by how disheveled he looks when he catches a glimpse of his reflection. He runs a comb through his hair, though it still flops a bit sadly over his eyes, and throws on a fresh shirt, but traipses to the kitchen still slightly unkempt because he can't find it within himself to feel too self-conscious.

Nunew makes a pleased little noise when Zee enters the kitchen, just finishing serving up two bowls of rice porridge, sliding a spoon into each one. Zee's stomach rumbles when the smell of warm ginger hits his nose.

"Does Hia want to add anything to his?" Nunew offers. Zee shakes his head, hungry but not sure if he can stomach anything too heavy, and Nunew picks up the two bowls, making his way to the dining table. He dodges out of the way when Zee reaches out a hand to help, beaming angelically when Zee squints at him.

Nunew starts chattering inanely about an anime series he'd been up late watching, setting the bowls down on the table and waving a hand towards the chair as he explains the plot. Zee takes the seat, nodding along as Nunew starts describing some of the characters, smiling a little when he brings his hands up to mimic a particularly gravity-defying hairstyle.

Zee eats the porridge, taking in small mouthfuls as Nunew makes cute sound effects and gestures wildly with his hands. Every now and then, Zee will tap his nail on the wood grain table to remind Nunew to eat, and he'll pause to shovel some porridge into his mouth before resuming. It's the most Zee has heard Nunew say to him, and it warms something in his chest to think that Nunew was doing it for his comfort.

"Thank you," Zee says, when Nunew takes another break to eat, and reaches forward with a napkin to gently clean the corner of his mouth.

Nunew's face breaks into a wide grin, patting the back of Zee's hand before moving on to tell him about the anime's soundtrack.

Zee sits back, hooks his feet around Nunew's under the table, and listens attentively, spooning porridge into his mouth. The open windows shine light into the room, and he feels okay.

After that, Nunew changes.

Well, 'changes' may not be the right word: Nunew simply becomes more of himself.

He becomes less reserved, more willing to tug on Zee's sleeve and poke his arm when he wants attention. He'll grab Zee's hand from his own lap and drag it to rest on his thigh, twisting and fiddling with his rings on the days Zee wears them. He talks more, not discouraged when Zee just nods along, and doesn't apologise so much for going on random tangents, because it seems to click with him that Zee genuinely likes listening. He's still polite, but he also learns that the boundaries aren't quite as rigid as he once thought they were.

Zee changes too. After that morning, when he'd bared his heart to Nunew without prior notice, it dislodges something from his mind. The protective, mentor-like stance he'd assumed when he'd taken Nunew under his wing had been shed, and Zee let himself loosen up a little, let himself be silly and childish, let himself play along with Nunew.

He makes noises back at Nunew when he uses his baby voice, he pretends to bite him when Nunew pokes a finger near his face, he sticks his tongue out at him when he's feeling particularly cheeky. Zee messes around, has fun with it all, and Nunew seems to absolutely love it.

It helps him too, when his timidity returns in front of the press, and Zee's antics and easygoing playfulness put the reporters and photographers in good moods. Nunew grows into himself, becomes more confident when he speaks, and Zee starts stepping back more to let him take his rightful spot in the limelight.

It had never been a matter of doubting Nunew's capabilities. The entertainment industry could be a particularly vicious beast even on good days, and learning to tame it took an entirely new skillset. Zee had wanted to keep Nunew from its claws at least until he could find his footing, and it had worked because Nunew had indeed learnt. He'd flourished with it, charming the public just as Zee predicted he would.

Zee finds himself subconsciously leaning back on Nunew as he makes himself out to be an equal, and it becomes apparent one day when, after an early morning start for a photoshoot followed by a live solo interview, he gets a migraine from all the bright lights.

It's a common part of his career, and he's used to it, but sometimes it catches up with him. And so today, he peels out of the building's carpark towards Aof's house the second he's cleared to leave. It doesn't register to him that the logical move would be to go home, and instead drives to where he knows he'll find Nunew.

It's a long, excruciating drive, the searing pain in his head only exacerbated by the sunlight. Bangkok traffic isn't kind, especially during the midday rush, and by the time he makes it to Aof's house, he has to take a moment to rest his head on the steering wheel. When the pain ebbs, he meanders to the door, a hand held over his eyes. Aof opens the door almost immediately when he knocks, like he's been expecting him.

"Where's Nunew?" Zee asks as he kicks off his shoes.

Perhaps it was slightly rude to not greet him first, but Aof is unfazed, gesturing behind him. "New's in the kitchen."

Zee nods, wincing when it sends a bolt of sharp pain through his temple. He haphazardly lines his shoes up by the door, then trots into the kitchen. Nunew is leaned over the stove, humming a little tune to himself, with an apron tied around his waist that Zee is almost certain doesn't belong to Aof.

There's something sizzling away in the pan he's tending to, chopsticks in hand, but Zee doesn't have a mind to check what it is. He approaches Nunew, hugging him from behind and dropping his face into the soft fabric of his hoodie. Nunew jolts in surprise, almost dropping the chopsticks.

"Ui, Hia scared me," he half-heartedly protests, but rests his free hand over where Zee's arms are linked around his waist. Zee sighs, closing his eyes and breathing in the scent of his fabric softener.

Zee hadn't noticed Aof follow him into the kitchen, but he must have, because then he hears, "These Phinong take care of each other so well."

Nunew shifts his body slightly to face Aof, Zee shuffling his feet to accommodate the movement because he isn’t ready to let go just yet. He can't see what Nunew does in response, but Aof laughs before leaving the kitchen.

Nunew turns back to his cooking, not asking Zee to let go, just quietly telling him when he needs to grab something from the fridge or overhead cabinets so Zee can manoeuvre along with him.

Eventually Nunew seems to finish cooking, the clinking sounds of chopsticks cutting off when he sets them down on the countertop. He does nothing to coerce Zee out from under his chin, content to lean back into his chest and make thoughtless little noises, especially when he realises that they make Zee exhale amused breaths out his nose.

When Zee finally lifts his head, eyes bleary and hair sticking up at weird angles, Nunew turns around to give him one last hug, squeezing him tightly. Then, Nunew tilts his head back, inspecting his hair, fluttering his hands over the crown of Zee's head to press down on rebellious strands.

Once he's satisfied, Nunew turns around to pick up two bowls, holding one out to Zee. Zee blinks down at it, a bit out of it, until he realises exactly what he's looking at.

"Hia worked hard today." Nunew smiles as Zee stares down at a neat bed of rice topped with crispy pork and stir-fried Chinese broccoli; his favourite dish. "You should eat, so your headache gets better."

The headache is the last thing on his mind, more focused on how Nunew had anticipated his arrival and somehow picked up on his headache, all without any prior notice. Zee raises a brow at him, confused. "How did Nhu…"

"Hia kept squinting and looking down today in his live." Nunew explains casually, like he’s just commenting on the weather.

See, there's something about Nunew that people tend to forget. Beneath the boy who likes to be babied, behind all the cute voices and the whining for attention and the fluttery lashes and pretty smiles, Nunew is smart. He's observant, meticulous with his work, able to pick up on small details, and a quick learner, as well as in possession of a good memory. He doesn't make himself out to be stupid, but he doesn't actively broadcast his intelligence either.

It isn't that Nunew's cuteness is a facade; it's as much a part of him as his intelligence.

But it makes it easy for people to tuck that fact in the back of their minds, more enamoured by the perfect heart-shape his lips make when they're puckered, or the swoop of his hair when it's long and styled up.

Some days, Zee wonders if Nunew is even aware of what he's doing. Because Nunew, just like him, likes to observe. He collects information, and uses it well. He knows when to keep quiet, how to skate around invasive questions, how to articulate his thoughts when he does choose to speak up.

And though it took a bit for Zee to realise it too, it's not something so easily dismissed by him anymore.

See, many people tend to forget that Nunew is smart.

Zee could never, precisely because of moments like this.

Nunew pushes the bowl against Zee's sternum until he takes hold of it, reaching back to undo the bow of his apron. He pulls it over his head and folds it up neatly, then starts triumphantly sashaying towards the dining table with his own bowl.

Zee smiles to himself, endlessly entertained by how contradictory Nunew could be, then makes his way out of the kitchen, pulling out Nunew's chair for him. He moves to take the seat across from him, but Nunew lets out a protesting noise and pats the one next to him. Zee slides into it without protest, and Nunew sidles closer until their shoulders press together.

Nunew doesn't pick up his chopsticks yet, instead watching Zee as he takes his first bite. Zee hides his mouth with his hand as he chews, mostly to cover up the way his lips tick up in the corners.

It's a dish that isn't hard to make, but Nunew's attention to detail shines through in all the little things. The rice is warm and fluffy, the pork seasoned with care, crackling with the most satisfying crispness, and the Chinese broccoli a nice balance of savoury and sweet. It's perfect, but Nunew wiggles in his seat like he's anxious that it isn't.

"Is it yummy, Hia?" He wrings his hands together under the table, and Zee sets down his chopsticks to stop the fidgeting before he hurts his fingers.

"It's delicious." Zee says genuinely, and Nunew brightens, eyes sparkling. Then, because he can't help teasing him, Zee asks, "Did you make it with love?"

Nunew pulls his hands away, crossing his arms and turning away from him. He tilts his nose up haughtily. "No."

Zee plays along, pretending to be offended as he starts turning away in the opposite direction. He doesn't get very far before Nunew whines, pulling on his bicep to get him to turn back around.

Zee tosses his head back and laughs, headache forgotten.

Zee knows it's the start of a bad day when he closes his eyes at night, blinks once, and morning greets him. It feels like he hadn't slept at all; an entire eight or so hours disappearing within a literal blink of an eye. His eyes feel crusty and bloodshot, and fatigue laps at him like a low tide against the shore.

Zee knows he's not the epitome of perfection. That's okay with him—it's nothing he hasn't come to terms with before, and it makes sense to him to constantly want to better himself.

And for the most part, Zee can set aside any criticisms and just work on himself. He doesn't need external validation to want to be a good person, because he knows he can't please everyone.

But there are days he'll realise just how many people don't accept that. Yesterday had been one of those days.

It's like this: you're climbing some steps. You know it's leading to exactly where you need to go; it's simply putting one foot in front of the other, and eventually you'll get there. The staircase isn't winding or tortuous, it doesn't ask you to choose between multiple paths. You don't need to do anything except take the next step. It's simple.

But it isn't easy. Because on days like this, you'll look up from where you're taking each step, and realise you can't see the top. You've been walking for so long already, you're exhausted and drained, so why aren't you there yet?

And then you start doubting yourself. How much longer? What was at the top again? Have you ever truly seen the top? How do you know what's at the top if you can't even see it from here?

Maybe… maybe you should just stay put.

What’s the point in continuing?

You spiral and spiral, and it makes you feel like you're back to step one again.

Zee, today, feels like he can't even breathe right. Physically, he can breathe just fine. But yesterday had been bad, and the mess had made him feel like he wasn't allowed to breathe—that no matter what he tried, someone would find something wrong with it.

Criticism is one of the cornerstones of the entertainment industry, and Zee would not be where he is today if he didn't know how to move forward from that.

But it still gets to him, because he's only human. It had been messy enough yesterday that Aof had pulled him aside, looked him in the eye, and told him to take the day off tomorrow. Zee wonders how he must have looked yesterday, if Aof had gone out of his way to postpone a workshop.

(Tired. Pale. Defeated.)

Zee, with little to no real sleep in his system, feels like yesterday never ended. The unease of yesterday had seeped across into the horizons of today, and Zee is out the door, car keys in hand, with a one track mind to find the one person who would make it go away.

The drive passes by in a haze. He isn't cognizant of anything until he pulls into the driveway of Aof's house. He must be losing time too, because one second he's in the car and the next, he's knocking on the door.

He's half spaced-out when it opens, barely registering who opens the door to him as Tommy.

"P'Zee?" Tommy greets him, baffled and concerned all in one breath. He steps aside to let him in, hovering his hands around him as if worried Zee will collapse.

Zee is sure he's a sight to see; he doesn't think he brushed his hair this morning, nor did he change out of his sleep-rumpled clothing. The only reason he knows he brushed his teeth is because there's a faint tang of iron to his saliva—he must have brushed too roughly.

Tommy says something else, but Zee doesn't hear it, because a tinkling, high-pitched voice drifts from the living room, and Zee makes a beeline towards the sound.

When he enters the living room, it's filled with most of the Domundi boys watching a mindless cartoon playing on the TV. Zee zeroes in on the one seated on the sofa, leaned over the coffee table and scribbling something into an exercise book.

Some of the boys make startled noises when they see him, and Zee thinks he acknowledges them when they call out surprised greetings, but the world around him is fuzzy outside of Nunew, who looks up from his book and directly into his eyes.

On days like this, where Zee doesn't feel like he's allowed to breathe, let alone ask for any kind of comfort, Zee is endlessly grateful for how Nunew has learnt to read him. It's a vulnerable feeling but a rewarding one, because Nunew sees him, truly sees him, and pushes the coffee table away, gesturing for him to come.

Zee goes, folding himself down in front of him on the floor, and buries his face into Nunew's thighs. Two hands come to cradle his head, one resting in his hair, the other on the nape of his neck. To any other person, it’s a suggestive position, but for Zee, in that very moment, it’s you’re here you’re here you’re here.

Nunew runs his fingers along the short hairs at the very edge of his hairline, and the world starts crystallising, coming back into clarity. He knows that because he's able to hear the put off groan that comes from somewhere off to his side.

Max follows it up, complaining, "Oh, would you two get a room?"

There's some cooing and heckling from the boys, teasing them, but it's mild because even they know just how rough yesterday had been, and above all, Domundi looks out for each other.

Nat reaches over, smacking Max's leg, and makes some retort Zee can't hear too well. It makes the rest of the room break into laughter, Nunew included, and Zee can feel his thighs shake as he does so.

When the room settles, with quiet conversations being struck up between some of the boys and others focusing again on the cartoon playing, Nunew cups a hand under Zee's jaw, turning his head to the side so he can breathe properly. Nunew ducks his head down, lowering his voice.

"Hia just woke up?" His fingers trail up, gently stroking the skin beneath Zee's eyes.

Zee hums, his chin digging into Nunew's thigh. He shuts his eyes, and feels Nunew run his thumb delicately over his eyelashes.

"Are you still tired?"

Zee doesn't answer, just raises his arms up to wrap around Nunew's legs, pulling them against his chest and squishing his cheek further into his thighs.

"Okay." Nunew wiggles a bit in place to make himself more comfortable. "Hia should rest."

Zee nods, and feels movement above his head, the sound of fabric shifting as Nunew leans over to whisper something to James, who's sat beside him.

James murmurs back at him, and there's a pause before the volume of the TV lowers.

Nunew clears his throat, and when he starts singing, all the conversation in the room fades to quiet.

"Wǒ xǐhuān nǐ quán shìjiè dōu zhīdào cháoxiào bié nào.

Wǒ huì jìxù qǐng nǐ zhǔnbèi hǎo."

Zee doesn't understand the lyrics, but Nunew's voice is sweet and sincere, soft in the same way that he covers Zee's eyes with his palm, shielding them from the light. He swipes his thumb across one of Zee's brows, and it feels like Nunew takes the weight of yesterday away with it.

“Wǒ xǐhuān nǐ quán shìjiè dōu míngliǎo jiān'áo biè qìnǎo.

Wǒ duō nàixīn qǐng nǐ děngzhe qiáo.”

Sleep beckons him gently, and Zee feels himself melt into Nunew as he drifts under, soothed by soft palms sheltering him from light and a lullaby sung just for him.

Oh, is Zee's last thought, this is what it's like. I'm safe here.