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Consciousness graces him with all the elegance of a sledge hammer, and Sky groans under his breath with a pitiful whimper. It only takes seconds for the throbbing pulse of a headache to become all too prominent; beating like a drum against the back of his skull. A warning he might splinter at the seams if he attempts to move.
His hand glides across the mattress, seeking out the embrace of another who usually warms the sheets, who would be all too willing to nurse his discomfort with light kisses, but whose presence is notably missing.
Sky braces himself, holds in his breath as he tries to prop himself upright. The movement sends his head careening, has the world tilting on its axis and his stomach follows suit with a horrendous somersault. It takes a good minute or two before he’s able to steady his vision long enough to glance around and confirm he is indeed in his own bed. At the very least, it’s proof he did make it home. Prapai’s red racing jacket has been thrown over the chair in the corner, which means his boyfriend must be up already though it doesn’t indicate where.
He leans precariously towards the night stand and notices Prapai’s watch and wallet are missing. Instead he finds a glass of water and two painkillers, accompanied with a small handwritten note.
Take these when you wake up. I’ll be back soon. Prapai.
Sky doesn’t hesitate to throw the tablets back, taking a few extra gulps of water for good measure. He shuffles against the pillows in a desperate bid to ease the swaying of the room from beneath him. He can't decide if keeping his eyes open or closed is worse. As he straightens out both legs, his right ankle cries out in complaint. Alarmed, Sky lets out a sharp hiss as he reaches down in search of the source of pain, answered by a twinge of soreness that wasn’t there before.
Great.
A very vague semblance of a memory prompts at the edges of his consciousness, prods him of the fact that he must have fallen or tripped over something. But he doesn’t remember exactly how. He’s never agreeing to drink with Sig ever again. A terrible suggestion on Rain’s part.
Sore head. Sore ankle. Whatever next?
He’ll have to find out if anyone in their group can shed light on their drunken antics of the previous evening. It’s seriously doubtful if he's anything to go by. He makes a mental note to call Rain later. Much later.
In the meantime, Sky stays decidedly still, hoping the pain relief will work its magic in earnest. He rubs his eyes blearily, weighing up the possibility of remaining immobile for the rest of the day. It’s the weekend. So perhaps. He doesn’t tend to be lazy, but he figures this is as good an excuse as any. He wishes Prapai were here with him right now, stroking him on the back until he feels marginally more human. The promise of those arms are what convince him to pry his eyes back open.
The morning light sifts through the windows, caressing the bedspread and casts a glint off of his hand. Eyes blinking, he glances down with a frown.
Sky feels like he’s been hit by a truck, or struck by lightning. He feels like he might throw up.
He’s wearing a ring.
A ring.
He glances around in panic, as if by doing so may prompt Prapai to materialise.
Wait— What did I do? Where did this come from? Oh dear god, what happened last night?
He detects the muffled sound of movement beyond the room outside; a door opening and closing, the weighted tread of footsteps. Sky tries to process the inexplicable frenzy that has him firmly grasped in its clutches. His brain runs wildly through the worst possible scenarios that may explain this. His mind comes up empty. What if Prapai doesn’t know? Worse still, what if Prapai isn’t the one who put this on his hand? You wouldn’t do something that stupid would you Sky? And what if Prapai is the one who did?
He’s not wearing his watch or anything else from last night, which means Prapai must have been the one who undressed him, changed his clothes and put him to bed. Because he certainly doesn’t remember doing so himself.
Despite his heart racing, Sky remains completely immobile, overcome by the impulse to either dive under the covers or run and lock himself in the bathroom. He doesn’t get a chance to make good on either, because the bedroom door promptly swings open.
Prapai looks miles better than he feels. Sky would even describe his boyfriend as suitably radiant this morning, and the sight brings him up short. The audacity of it should irritate Sky, considering his current condition, but he’s far too blindsided by the brilliance of his boyfriend’s entrance. Prapai’s hair isn’t gelled back today and it flops endearingly into his big brown eyes. He’s wearing a white linen shirt that’s rolled up at the sleeves, exposing his taut forearms. The sunlight streaming in seems to cast a halo around him as he approaches the bed. Sky particularly adores it when Prapai looks like this, all dressed down and soft.
And so heart-achingly handsome.
Prapai’s lips are adorned with the sweetest of smiles as he looks at Sky, eyes twinkling with mirth. “I’m glad you think so.”
He instantly stiffens. Did he really just say that out loud?
“Here, this should help you feel better,” Prapai places a mug down on the side table so it can cool, before he leans in to kiss Sky lightly on the forehead. “How are you doing sweetheart?”
Sky eyes Prapai pointedly, mouth rounding and shutting a few times before he can make an actual sound.
“P’Pai–”
He can’t decide whether to risk incurring his boyfriend’s displeasure in the event this was some crazy joke he participated in whilst under the influence of insanity. Not that it sounds like something he would do - maybe he was coerced - but that’s besides the point. If there did happen to be another culprit involved, then there was no telling if Prapai may be tempted to hunt them down. Prapai had a notoriously possessive streak that could be unwittingly provoked if one were too careless; a line that was all too easy to trespass. This tendency had become more prevalent since that night at the condo. It was fuelled by Prapai's all encompassing desire to ensure Sky was never taken advantage of again, which thereby manifested itself as a no tolerance policy. Sky had been witness to this on more than one occasion, where an all too enthusiastic passerby may have tried their luck to flirt with him. Even worse if they tried to be handsy. A decision they’d all too quickly regret.
“I bought some breakfast from that cute little place we passed last week. Would you like to shower or eat first?”
“—P’Pai,” Sky raises his hand wordlessly, swallowing hard. Still unable to say it out loud.
The mattress dips as Prapai perches down on the edge of the bed, “It suits you.”
Sky gapes, wondering if Prapai even heard him, “I’m wearing a ring P’Pai.”
“It’s from me, in case you weren’t sure. Though I’d have to ask why. If someone else had put that there, I’d be the one asking questions,” Prapai teases jovially with a cocked eyebrow, “Not to mention, no one can compete with my impeccable taste.”
Sky’s overwhelmed by the need to massage his temples but at least he has an answer to his earlier concern, "Not what I was asking.”
“Do you like it?”
“I’m wearing a ring–” He emphasises again, aware he sounds like a broken record.
“Relax sweetheart, it’s not what you may think it means.”
Sky eyes widen then, a little fearful and confused, “And what does this mean?”
Prapai leans over to pluck Sky’s hand into his lap, caressing it gently. His thumb grazes the edge of where the ring sits and Sky can’t help but shiver. He knows Prapai is trying to coax his worry away but he instinctively braces himself for the worst. This is just a ring Sky, he imagines Prapai saying. Not that kind of ring, he tells himself. Are you mad? You’re jumping to conclusions. Even if Prapai mentioned it a while ago, it’s not like he was bound to it. You haven't brought it up since then either, so maybe he thought you’d gone off the idea. So why would he give you that kind of ring? Precisely. You’re over-thinking this.
“I want you to have it. For safe-keeping.”
As if that’s supposed to make any more sense.
Sky’s brain is far too sluggish to follow Prapai’s absurd line of thinking. He’s still staring at his finger, trying to process what is going on, let alone how he feels about it. It hits him harder than he ever thought possible. Some part of him had admittedly indulged in the image of it, feeling somewhat delusional whenever he did, as if this was still only a dream and nothing more. But he’d only done so in the secrecy of his own thoughts. Now he realises the reality is far greater to digest. The enormity of it.
God, he wishes he didn’t feel quite so awful right now. That really isn’t helping his lack of brain function.
After a prolonged pause, Prapai gives his hand a small squeeze, peering at him intently, “Sky. Don’t panic. You still want to marry me don’t you?” Seriousness has crept into Prapai’s tone, which means he’s starting to worry over Sky’s reaction.
He registers an intense surge of something he can’t quite describe. The answer is immediate, completely unwavering and resolute.
Yes. I do.
Those three words send Sky into an intense tailspin of embarrassment.
“But–” He doesn’t know what he’s contesting here. But, you should have given me ample warning? But, you should have consulted me before popping this fun little surprise on my hand? But, you could have chosen a moment where I wasn’t quite so hungover to process what on earth is happening?
It’s not the lack of spectacle that has Sky reeling. In fact, he had always hated being the centre of attention, particularly when it was unwanted attention. Dreaded that peculiar feeling of having everyone’s eyes on him. He’d always been fearful that Prapai may subject him to a big showy display of romance one day, especially when he considered the manner of proposals and just how flamboyant Prapai could be if encouraged. The very thought had left Sky’s palms sweating. That’s not what Sky deemed to be important. It never was. So he was always encouraging Prapai to tone things down. Because it was ultimately the quiet, unassuming moments they spent together that Sky most treasured. The trivially mundane and ordinary. Time that belonged only to the two of them, with no one else involved or to bear witness. No one else to intrude. Those were the spoils that had the most gravitas to Sky.
The fact that Prapai had not chosen to do this in a circumstance of exceptional splendour, suited Sky fine. That isn’t the reason why he’s dumbfounded. And it certainly doesn’t make it mean anything less. Truthfully, to Sky, it possibly means more. Because it implied that the gesture needed no public declaration. No song and dance. It just is.
We just are.
It only seemed fitting considering how Prapai had so casually implied the intention to begin when they’d walked in synchrony by the sea that fateful day, leaving a trail of matching footprints in the sand.
Prapai is watching him carefully, “I’ve already told you that I’m set on marrying you. It doesn’t matter when, where or how. So I want you to keep that ring, because I don’t plan to put one on anyone else.”
Sky’s mind is still operating on a delay. It never ceases to surprise him how Prapai can be so absolutely infuriating and endearing in one fail swoop. It frequently drives him to his wit’s end to try and keep pace. A constant battle over whether to smack or kiss the man. Feels compelled to do both. Just in what order?
“When did you even get this? How–” How did you know what size to buy?
Prapai smiles a little sheepishly. “Shortly after that day on the beach. I’ve had it a while now.”
Sky stares at that little silver band, something all too eagerly jumping in the pit of his stomach, fighting to break free. His whole body feels ready to run a million miles, and yet he doesn’t really understand why. Is it really this easy? You wake up one morning with a ring on your hand, and it’s a done deal? That’s not how it works, is it?
The last thing he wants is to hurt Prapai’s feelings. Doesn’t want him to get the wrong idea that he’s in any degree of uncertainty regarding such a commitment. As much as the gravity of it all has him temporarily paralysed, he does want this as much as Prapai does. The battle that he's having is quite frankly that… This is all too good to be true. All of it. Everything. From day one Sky’s been living in a fantasy. A fantasy version of his life.
This tiny little adornment makes it all too real. Makes him truly question how this is even possible. How any of this is possible. How he got here. If this was some higher power making a stratospheric gag at his expense, he’d really rather find out now rather than later. Hah. Hah. Very funny, he wanted to say. You’ve taken the joke quite far enough now.
“Baby? Are you okay?”
Sky runs his fingertips along Prapai's knuckles, an attempt to reassure whilst he continues to fumble for the right words.
“I’m still studying.”
“I know.”
“We can’t actually-”
Softer, “I know.”
“We haven’t, I haven’t told–”
Prapai tips his chin upward so Sky is staring him level in the eyes, “Trust me, I know.” His smile is comforting and sure. It sinks into Sky’s apprehension with its ability to mellow. “Like I said, this doesn’t mean what you may think it means. I’m not rushing you. I’m not asking for anything else, anything more. I’m perfectly happy with things as they are. Beyond happy. So this doesn’t have to change anything in the slightest. I just have the ring already, and I want you to keep it. That’s all. It would be a shame for it to just sit in my drawer anyhow.”
Prapai's thumb swipes circles within the palm of his hand, “You don’t even have to wear it on your hand if you prefer not to. I’ve got a chain as well, so you can wear it around your neck if you’d rather be discreet until the time is right. Whatever you want. I don’t mind at all. I just want you, nothing else.”
Sky isn’t sure what he’s more surprised about. Prapai really has a habit for thinking of everything. An insane ability to pre-empt all the possible concerns Sky may have, and ready the answers to staunch the threat of Sky's anxiety spiralling out of control.
“You really want to do this now?” Sky whispers.
Prapai smiles, as if confirming something in his mind, “Yes, now.”
“When I look like…?” An absolute calamity, most likely.
Prapai leans in to peck his cheek, “You’re always beautiful to me.”
“But why?” Sky finds himself asking that question a lot where Prapai is concerned. He's not certain which 'why' he's referring to in this instance. There are far too many to count.
“Why not?”
He has to give it to the man. Sky often wonders what extremity of rock bottom would it take to scare him off once and for all. Prapai had seen him in all manners of unsightly, more so than any average person could expect to experience in their burgeoning relationship. From seeing Sky in the throes of raging fever to the uneasy depths of catatonic trauma. He really can’t think of many more situations in which Prapai could be subjected to witnessing him at his absolute lowest. And that still hasn’t put him off yet. Somehow.
If that isn’t the sign of a keeper then I don’t know what is. You’d be insane to question your good fortune.
Sky nibbles on his lip and finds himself asking, “Are you sure?” Despite already knowing the answer. But he has to give Prapai an opportunity to back out.
Prapai squeezes his hand again before holding it to his cheek, “Yes. I am. I've never been more certain of anything in my entire life. I love you,” as if it’s the most obvious thing.
Something in Sky blooms and swells, like the peaking crescendo of a wave, submerging all his reservations with efficiency. He leans in to slide his arms around Prapai’s neck, and clutches on tight. Hold me, he beckons. As if in reply, those sturdy forearms fold around his waist, gathering him seamlessly together as they always do. If he had the choice, he would never leave the comfort of Prapai's embrace. Is tantalised by the very prospect that he could spend an eternity clinging onto Prapai, with legitimate permission to never let go.
“Do you like it?” Prapai asks again softly.
Sky searches for the hand in question, tilts it towards him from behind Prapai’s neck and nods, plastering himself as close as he can muster. “I love it,” he admits quietly, and kisses Prapai’s jaw with a lowered voice, “but I love you more.” The thudding in Sky’s head is slowly ebbing away, as if to make room for the gentle humming headiness of bliss. This really is happening. You better count your blessings Sky. Fate has been exceptionally good to you.
Prapai breathes out an affectionate sigh as his lips trace the edge of Sky’s temple, leaving a trail of small kisses ever so tenderly in their wake. “My sweet Sky. Call me.”
“Huh? Call you what?”
There’s the huskiness of a small, knowing laugh, “You know what. Call me.”
'What did you just call me?' 'Darling.'
Sky flushes. The memory taunts him with glee, resurfacing coincidentally at just this precise moment. He’s never called Prapai that out loud. Ever. It had been on the tip of his tongue many times, but he felt far too embarrassed to actually say it. It just didn’t sound right coming from him. It felt far too sentimental. Too sappy. But he'd liked how the syllables felt when bounced around in his head. Prapai was known to give him all manner of pet names but Sky hadn’t used a single one for him to this day. He’s genuinely horrified that it must have slipped out.
Prapai chuckles when he feels Sky tensing. “Call me baby, go on. Don’t be shy.”
His brain objects vehemently. Nope. No way.
“Please?" When Prapai asks him so nicely, it’s almost impossible to refuse. He used to find it far easier to outrightly object when he was reluctant to do or say something that Prapai desperately wanted. But that defence had gradually waned over time. Prapai was far too attuned at getting under his skin, chipping away at his resolve, until he was guaranteed a healthy dose of guilt should he try to withhold anything back. It’s not a big deal, Sky. It’s just a word. I thought you were made of sterner stuff.
“Please?”
Sky closes his eyes, as if that’ll help dilute his self-consciousness in some small way.
“-Darling.”
He doesn’t know how it’s possible but Prapai’s whole body seems to come alight, buzzing like running electricity in his arms. The laugh that escapes from Prapai is laced with giddiness, and that buoys Sky’s mood faster than anything else. It’s inconceivable not to be infected by it.
“Say it again.”
Sky hides his face against Prapai’s shoulder, despite knowing his boyfriend can’t see his expression right now. “You’re so greedy, you know that?”
“Just once more, please?” He visualises the picture of delight that must be Prapai’s face right now, and figures that is a worthwhile reason for his momentary shame.
“......Darling.”
Prapai draws back a little so he nudge Sky affectionately with his nose, “You can call me that all the time if you want to. I'll never tire of hearing it. Ever.”
Sky’s pretty sure he’s the colour of scarlet right now, and immediately ducks his chin down. The hairs on his arms have risen to attention in a full body eruption of goosebumps, right down to the tip of his toes. Prapai simply laughs, plants another couple of overly eager and slightly sloppy kisses on his forehead.
After ensuring Sky had finished the entire mug of ginger tea, Prapai insisted on accompanying him into the shower, claiming on the awfully flimsy pretence that Sky might slip due to his ankle. He’s well acquainted with the knowledge that Prapai had other motives. A passing glimpse in the mirror flagged his attention to the bruise on his forehead. He had to refrain from rolling his eyes. Clearly a bout of concussion, along with all his other souvenirs would explain why he'd woken up in such a state.
His stomach is sent into a renewed bout of butterflies when Prapai slides the ring back on his finger, after they’ve finished towelling themselves off. Sky can’t imagine he’ll ever get used to that.
He feels infinitely better than he did an hour ago, and in the wake of his trailing hangover is an insatiable appetite. Thankfully for him, Prapai is already ushering him to where breakfast is laid out on their dining table. Something smells heavenly as Prapai serves a bowl of it and places it in front of him.
Congee. His stomach rumbles expectantly. This is just what he needed.
“It will help settle your stomach. I’ve bought plenty so I expect you to eat up. You’ve lost weight again recently with all the late nights,” Prapai chastises, pushing an additional platter of omelettes and fruit stacked high towards him. Enough to feed a small army of ravenous children. Forgetting to eat was just one of the common symptoms he had when working towards a deadline. Sky didn’t think much of it, but he knew Prapai was keeping score of every skipped meal.
As Sky savours his first mouthful, it does exactly what Prapai promised it would do. The final traces of any nausea are quashed, and Sky welcomes the relief. Not dissimilar to Prapai himself, who was amazingly adept at soothing Sky’s ailments away. Where did you learn that? He wants to ask. Sky isn’t sure if he can take full credit for Prapai’s growing sense of domestic fortitude, but it's definitely improved since they've known each other.
"What exactly happened to my ankle?"
Prapai eyes him pointedly, “I’m supposed to be asking you that. We’re going to get it checked out later. You really don’t remember what you got up to last night?”
Sky shakes his head, “Not much.” It’s not strictly the truth. A few patchy remnants have begun to return to him, consisting of the more ridiculous highlights of their evening, which included holding Rain back from falling into a water fountain, Sky being piggy-backed down the street by Por before being dropped ass-first into a bush. But everything is vastly overshadowed by the ring of Rain’s voice singing, well yelling, in his ear. Did they go to a karaoke bar, otherwise why on earth would that be the prevailing thing he remembers?
“Nothing? Not even once you got home?”
Sky shoots him an eyeful back, taking the bait, “Why? What happened when I got home?”
His boyfriend reaches across the table to pour himself a coffee, “Oh nothing much,” he echoes, very much intended to leave Sky second-guessing. After a solid pause, he accepts Prapai isn’t going to divulge and continues spooning his congee.
“Just that you tried to ravage me.”
Sky nearly chokes on his egg, spluttering, “-I didn’t.”
Prapai reaches over to swipe at Sky’s lips with a napkin. “Oh I can assure you, you absolutely did. Your hands were all over my-"
He quickly stuffs a slice of mango into Prapai’s mouth before he can spout more salacious detail than he can stand to hear about himself. He's not exactly a blushing virgin when it comes to physical intimacy, but he doesn't need to hear it dissected and fed back to him. Prapai grins around the piece of fruit, “I fully take that as a compliment you know. It doesn’t hurt to be reminded of how irresistible you find me.”
Sky cringes in his seat. Not just a clumsy drunk but a horny drunk. It had been such a long while since he’d been on a night out like that, he’d genuinely forgotten how raucous things could get.
“My offer still very much stands by the way.”
“Offer to what?”
Prapai juts his lip out a little, “You genuinely don’t remember? Or are you just feigning ignorance to avoid me teasing?”
“You’ll tease me regardless, so why would I bother?”
“True.” Prapai leans over and his breath glides over Sky’s ear, “If you still need to let off some steam, I’m all yours. I'm free all day, happy to be of service.”
'Tomorrow you can have your wicked way with me however many times you want and however you like. How about that?'
Sky immediately smacks Prapai on the arm, who doesn’t bother shirking away, anticipating exactly how he was going to react. He doesn’t plan to get that drunk again anytime soon. The sheer volume of material that Prapai now has at his disposal to make him squirm is far too much for comfort. He’s had enough to contend with this morning; what with the raging hangover, followed swiftly by shock. He could do without indigestion thrown in the mix as well.
“Don’t start what you can’t handle,” Sky rebuffs, plucking a grape, already plotting his revenge.
“Is that a challenge?”
It’s Sky’s turn to scoff, “You know the answer to that better than anyone.”
Prapai slides back with a shrug, letting him finish his congee in peace, seemingly satisfied to see Sky eating so well and promptly serves him another bowl without asking.
It’s whilst Sky finishes off his second helping that he realises Prapai’s been far too quiet. He looks over to where Prapai is resting his chin in his hand, just watching him all starry-eyed and glazed over, his own plate relatively untouched. Sky’s heart still skips a beat when he's subject to that gaze in particular. When Prapai looks completely lost in the act of doing so, his mind miles away. It hasn’t escaped his notice that Prapai’s eyes have been periodically flickering back and forth between his hand and his face.
“I can’t eat if you keep staring at me like that.”
Prapai releases a small sigh, “You don’t know how long I spent picturing you wearing that ring. Now that you are, let me savour it." He wants to point out that Prapai will have years to do that, but he's equally stuck on the same exact point himself, so he can't afford to be hypocritical. He knows it must be an illusion, but his hand feels noticeably heavier. Oddly enough, he feels like he’s gained a piece of armour. Something that makes him feel inexplicably safe. Like this is Prapai’s protective charm, a watchful eye of sorts over their future. And he knows just how silly and daft that may sound. But it means a lot to him. To them both. So he'll relish this for the time being too.
"Besides, I plan to look at you forever, so get used to it,” Prapai quips.
He understands that Prapai - on some basic, fundamental level - found peace in having Sky belong to him. Which didn't mean he needed that sealed with some form of oath, but it certainly didn't hurt. He knows Prapai appreciates and enjoys the physicality of it. Just as he enjoys having his arm wrapped around Sky’s waist when they’re in public. Likes to keep their hands joined when they’re wandering down the street; tugs when Sky strays too far.
And Sky can’t deny that he likes that feeling also. Of belonging to Prapai.
Prapai reaches across the table and steals his hand again, brushes it against the corner of his mouth. He wonders if Prapai wasn’t kidding, and this compulsive new obsession for repeatedly keeping Sky’s hand hostage will continue until further notice. He’s lucky it’s his left hand or he’d be effectively incapacitated for the foreseeable future.
Just as Prapai is about to let go to pick up his fork, Sky tightens his grip, anchoring their hands together against the table. This way Prapai can feel the coolness of the ring pressing against both their fingers. Prapai beams without protest, and reaches for his fork with his other hand.
You need one too, Sky thinks as he peeks at Prapai from over his mug.
He doesn’t like the fact that Prapai’s hands are empty. If I belong to you, then you belong to me too. It’s only fair.
In good time Sky. All in good time.
If this is how it felt to be caught up in a whirlwind, then the rest of their lives held the promise of something far better.
I can't wait to be married to you.