Work Text:
The sound of the clock in Photjanee’s personal office tolling the hour is barely audible.
Photjanee looks up from her paperwork and sighs. She really doesn’t want to be the bad guy, but the school administrator said these end-of-term documents were overdue to be edited and signed, and the noise is making it impossible to focus.
She stands from the desk and walks quietly down the hall to her husband’s study, the room where the ruckus is happening. The sound gets louder and louder as she approaches. She knocks, and opens the door.
Tinn’s father is proudly dancing around the room, singing at the top of his lungs, and enthusiastically rocking out to the song Photjanee recognizes from the school prom. Tinn is seated on a stool, his head bobbing belatedly to a beat that is not really being kept by anyone. He has Gun’s guitar on his lap uncertainly, his right hand strumming over the sound hole, glancing periodically at the neck, and doing his best to sing along. Gun is draped over his boyfriend, from behind, his left hand forming the correct chords on the neck of his guitar, singing the lyrics loudly to direct the other two. Gun’s head nods to try and keep the rhythm of all of them together. It’s a mess of raucous sound, asynchronously played at once by the three of them, delighted more by their attempt to play at all than any worry about playing well.
(Gun was invited over originally to hang out with Tinn, but Tinn’s father asked him if he would bring his guitar and teach him some of the Chinzhilla songs. This escalated into an all-out jam session, which is lovely in theory, but it’s been going on for the better part of an hour, and Photjanee has the aforementioned work to complete.)
Tinn is the first to notice his mother’s presence. “Mom!”
Gun stands up and backs away from Tinn, his grin fading fast and his hands fanning out, as though caught. Noticing the sudden silence, Tinn’s dad turns around and stifles the guitar strings when he sees his wife. “Oh! Honey… ah.”
“Good evening,” she says, pleasantly. “Having fun?”
“We were too loud, weren’t we, mom?” asks Tinn, with a guilty expression. Tinn’s dad and Gun wear similarly regretful faces.
Photjanee nods slightly. “It’s just that I’m trying to get some work done. If it wasn’t important, I wouldn’t mind. But I really can’t hear myself think just now.” She looks at each of them in turn, apologetically. “Do you think we could… do something else for a little while?”
Tinn’s father puts the guitar back in its stand. “Of course, my darling. So sorry about that. We’ll go downstairs for now, and keep quiet.” He turns to the boys. “Come on, then. We can play another time. Thank you, Gun, let’s all go downstairs.”
They each exit the room, one after another, with bowed heads and soft apologies, before heading down the stairs together. Photjanee sighs again, as the relative quiet settles back into the house, and returns to her desk.
~
After dinner, it starts to rain heavily, so Photjanee volunteers to drive Gun home. “I’ll be back soon,” she says to her husband, and watches Gun hug Tinn goodbye.
In the car, Gun thanks Photjanee for driving him, and then falls silent for the remainder of the ride. Photjanee struggles to choose a topic of conversation, so she just lets the noise of the rain on the car take her attention instead.
When they arrive outside Mrs. Gim’s, Gun is the one who finally speaks.
“I’m sorry, ma’am,” he says, quietly.
Photjanee glances at him, frowning. “What for, Gun dear?”
“We disturbed you earlier. It was my fault.”
“Oh, it’s okay, really,” she says, offering him a smile.
Gun gives a sad, perfunctory kind of smile back, and it fades quickly into an expression of resignation. “I know that you don’t like me much.” He unbuckles his seatbelt, and nods to her. “It’s okay, ma’am.” His hand moves to open the door and leave.
“Wait a moment.” Photjanee frowns deeply, turning to face the boy in her passenger seat. “Gun,” she says, “why do you say I don’t like you?”
Gun turns to her too, his mouth opening in surprise, in confusion. “I – I, uh… so many reasons?? I’m in the music club, ma’am... the one you wanted to get rid of? I’m a troublemaker kid who sits in the back of the class? I caused a lot of problems for your school?” He ducks his head, itching the back of his neck, guiltily. His voice drops to an embarrassed mumble. “I called Tinn an asshole right to your face that one time...?”
“Oh,” says Photjanee, remembering. She takes a breath.
Gun barrels on. “Ma’am… I know that I’m not – I mean, Tinn is perfect, okay? He’s handsome, and smart, and kind, and – and he’s your son, I don’t have to tell you that he’s amazing, because he is, I think you know that already. And if you could pick anyone in the world to date him, I know it’s not me, not by a long shot.” He pauses for breath, before continuing. “I’m probably the worst choice, actually… But it’s okay, really. I understand. You don’t have to like me. It’s okay.”
“Gun, it’s not okay,” she begins, trying to choose her words carefully, “it’s not okay for me to let you keep thinking that. Sure, maybe we had a challenging year as a student and principal, but I don’t want you to think I don’t like you.”
Gun stares at her, speechless. “...Ma’am?”
“Forgive me,” she says, “I always try to speak carefully, and you deserve the hear the truth.” She collects her thoughts for a moment, and Gun stays respectfully quiet, waiting. “I don’t mind that Tinn is dating you. I don’t mind that Tinn likes boys in general and you in particular. I admit the idea took some getting used to, when I first found out.” She pauses, remembering. It has only been a little over a week since the incident with the counselor, and prom. It’s still very new. “But, it’s about… other people telling Tinn he doesn’t deserve his happiness, you know? And… that includes me.”
She looks at Gun earnestly, sees him listening with intent. Gun still doesn’t dare to speak.
Photjanee continues. “You may be the lead singer in the rowdy music club, and you may sit at the back of your class. Yes, Gun, it’s true. And I have seen you that way. But now, Gun... I want to see you differently. Because you get to see Tinn differently than I ever have.” She smiles hopefully at the boy across from her, shy and nervous as he is. Brave, she realizes, for him to be here, and say what he said. Brave like my son. “You make him so happy, Gun. You sang that song for him at prom, in front of everyone, and the way he smiled at you… I haven’t seen him smile like that in a very long time. You are the one he chose, Gun. And that’s what matters.” She laughs, gently. “How can I possibly dislike you?”
Gun feels his heart pounding, and he still doesn’t have words. He looks down, fumbling for sincerity. “I… I don’t… I don’t know what to say.”
Photjanee nods again. “I’m sorry if I let you believe that I disapproved. It’s all still new for me, I admit.” She looks down at her hands, fidgeting a little in her lap. “But... Tinn means everything to me, Gun. I want to be someone he can always share his happiness with. And... I think you want that too.” She smiles at him, earnestly. “So, can we forget about... the past year? Start over fresh.” She holds up her hands, in greeting. “Nice to meet you, Gun. I am Tinn’s mom.”
Bemused but smiling shyly, Gun also holds up his hands. “Nice to meet you, ma’am. I am… Tinn’s boyfriend.” He blushes, trying to hide a growing grin.
“I’m so happy to get to know you, Gun. You seem like a really lovely young man.” Both of them bow their heads to their hands, at the same time. When they look up again, Gun is watching her with a kind of bewildered joy on his face. Photjanee smiles warmly at him.
She glances out the windshield, at the sky. “I think it stopped raining for the moment,” she remarks. “You’d better hurry and run inside while you can. Oh! And please say hello to your mother from me.” She looks back at Gun again. “Tell her I’d really like for us to become better acquainted, okay?”
“Oh… uh, thank you, ma’am. I’ll tell her,” says Gun, still a little stunned. “Thank you, again, for driving me home. And good night.”
“Of course. Good night, Gun.”
Gun exits the car, with a flash of a grin, and waves goodbye, before he vanishes into the house.
~
When Photjanee returns from dropping off Gun, she finds Tinn washing the dishes from dinner.
“Oh, Tinn, I can finish those, if you want to go take a shower?” She pats his head.
Tinn nods. “Okay, Mom. Thanks.” He smiles at her, and dries his hands.
“I think your father made khanom tom for dessert. I’ll bring you some later, yeah?”
“Yes, please, Mom.” He kisses her on the forehead, and leaves to go upstairs.
Photjanee turns her attention to the sink. She finds herself humming the song from earlier, the one she walked in on them jamming to. While her hands are busy scrubbing plates and utensils clean, her mind busies itself trying to remember all the lyrics to the song, now that she’s heard it a few times. It takes a while, but eventually, Photjanee remembers the chorus, and dances a little while she sings to herself:
“Having you with me, I want you to know
No matter how long, no matter how far,
You are the only one
And I don’t mind –”
Suddenly, she startles, as hands grab her from behind, and spin her around. Photjanee is greeted by her husband’s delighted face. “Pa!” she exclaims, surprised. “You scared me!”
“Don’t stop singing, my love,” he says, sweetly. “You seem to really like the song.” Tinn’s father takes the plate she’s holding out of her hands, and gives her a towel.
“It’s stuck in my head, from listening to you all earlier,” she admits, drying her hands.
“Do you remember the lyrics? I’ll help...” he says, tossing her towel aside and pulling his wife in close, inviting her to dance with him. She leans into his embrace, as his hands hold her comfortably, lovingly. They start moving together, beat by beat, as he picks up singing where she left off:
“And I don’t mind being a rock
I’m shouting from the rooftops –
I love you lots and lots
I am a rock on the star...”
She blushes and laughs, embarrassed and enamored in equal measure. Tinn’s father can be quite romantic, when he tries. She loves that they haven’t lost that, even after so many years together.
They dance aimlessly around the kitchen, muddling through the words to the song together, mumbling and laughing wherever they aren’t as sure. Tinn’s dad makes sure to periodically twirl his wife, making her giggle even more when he pulls her back in close. They stumble through the lyrics piece by piece, singing loudly together at the choruses, and swaying energetically in time to the melody.
One more spin from Tinn’s dad causes Photjanee to see her son, standing at the entry to the kitchen, watching them both with a curious grin on his face.
“Oh! Tinn!” she says, laughing, flustered and warm from all the dancing, as well as from flirting with her husband.
“Mom? Dad?” Tinn walks into the kitchen timidly. “Is dessert ready?”
“Oh, the khanom tom, of course!” Tinn’s father puts on a guilty expression. “Were we being too loud, Tinn?”
Tinn laughs, approaching his parents with a wide smile. “No, not at all,” he says happily. “I just didn’t expect this.”
“Your mother was singing the song before I came in,” says Tinn’s father, as though sharing a secret. He winks at Photjanee, who swats playfully at him.
“Well, my son has good taste in music,” she says, coyly.
“Music, or musicians?” asks Tinn’s father.
Photjanee goes over to Tinn, and gives him a hug. “Both,” she says fondly, smiling and patting his head.