Chapter Text
The weather that greets First as he steps out of his car is the exact kind of early spring warmth that he associates with some of the best days of his childhood. Perhaps it’s meant to be a sign that this new beginning was the right choice. He discovers that a smile has crept onto his lips, small and peaceful.
Spring always comes early to Kilbett. It’s one thing First adores about the area - that the rejuvenating power warm weather has on him displaces the winter gloom as early as mid-March. He takes a moment, like his therapist is always telling him, to breathe in the air and appreciate how much fresher it is than the big city. Familiar birdsong drifts to his ears. His heart squeezes with a mix of emotions.
When his sister brought up the idea of First taking over the farm, their dad was still alive. Frail, gravely ill, but still with them. At the time, First was outraged. He laughed at the notion, but then he saw his sister’s wife avoiding his eye, like the topic was something the two had already discussed, and he sobered up. He pulled Rung outside of the hospital room where he could protest a little louder without disturbing his sleeping father. As blunt as Rung could be, she had clearly been planning what to say to First and when she laid out her arguments, they actually kind of made sense. It didn’t help that their little brother, Witt, backed her up.
It took a while for First to get used to the idea. As his dad slipped in and out of consciousness, always giving his children his warmest smile whenever he was awake, First’s mind desperately sought comfort in anything that would help him through the onsetting grief, that would keep him connected to his dad. At times, all he could do is hold his dad’s hand and through tears repeat promises of how well he’d care for the farm, how he’d carry his dad’s legacy on forever.
The funeral and the immediate shock of the loss kept his mind occupied for a while. Knowing that he and his siblings were now technically orphans was simultaneously unfathomable and not that strange a thought. By the time he had to make the hard decisions about whether he’d take over the farm or they’d sell it, he felt warmer about the idea of moving back to Kilbett. He needed a change. Dealing with draining stress for years showed him that much.
So a few months after the funeral, here he is, returning to his hometown in his city-slicker car, a small trailer full of his possessions pulled behind.
In his gut is a mixture of anxiety and excitement. He hadn’t expected the latter. It’s a welcome sensation.
By the time dusk is settling, First has dragged his suitcases and a box or two of immediately needed items into the house. The drive depleted all his energy reserves, so he plans to deal with the rest of his belongings tomorrow. Maybe he’ll hire some movers to do it for him. Luckily, he didn’t need to bring any furniture, as the Puitrakul family home is more than well-stocked.
He takes a quick shower to wash off the sweat and grime of the drive, throws on a T-shirt and sweatpants, and ambles downstairs to the living room. All around him are reminders of his deceased parents. His exhausted heart can’t decide if it wants to mourn or be warmed by the memory of them. First sits on the couch and heaves a sigh. His stomach rumbles. He groans inwardly at the thought of figuring out dinner at this hour.
The loud sound of the door knocker startles him hard enough to curse out loud. First realizes that he had dozed off on the couch. He rubs his face and walks over to the parlor. Who could be on his doorstep at this hour?
He pulls the door open to a figure a few inches shorter than him. In the near-darkness, it’s hard to tell who the person is, so First flips on the porch light.
“Hi there, good evening,” a gorgeous man smiles at him. First’s eyes widen slightly. Where did this guy come from? “I’m so sorry to bother you, I hope I didn’t scare you, you probably weren’t expecting visitors.”
First’s mind, sluggish with tiredness, is stuck on the man’s sweet apologetic smile, the way his eyes crinkle into crescents. It catches up to reality finally and First clears his throat.
“No, no, no problem. How may I help you?”
“My name is Khaotung Thanawat, I live up the road, we’re neighbors. My family’s farm shares a border with yours. We briefly went to high school together, I’m not sure if you remember…”
First narrows his eyes, trying to summon a spark of recognition for the name or the face. Surely he would remember a man this beautiful?
“Um…I’m not sure–”
Khaotung waves a hand, “Nevermind, nevermind, um– I don’t want to keep you long, I’m sure you’re exhausted from your trip. I heard that you were moving in today, and I figured that you’d be beat from the road. I had ribs and chicken in the smoker for dinner, so I thought I’d bring you some, in case you were hungry. Just a little something to say ‘welcome back to Kilbett’! Things around here close early, so you’d have to drive out far to get a bite at this hour.”
Only now, as Khaotung adorably rocks on his heels, does First notice that he’s carrying a large baking dish covered in foil. The smell hits his nose and assaults his stomach right then - a mouthwatering mixture of sizzling meat and creamy mac and cheese. He swallows thickly.
“Oh wow! Oh, you really shouldn’t have, this is so sweet of you,” First smiles back, taking the glass dish. “It smells delightful, thank you! Very thoughtful of you because you’re very right, I was just dreading figuring out what to have for dinner right before you knocked.”
“Not a problem at all. And actually…I may have gone a bit overboard. I brought you some extra sides and cornbread, they’re in my truck, just give me a second.”
Khaotung jogs over to his truck, parked next to First’s car in the driveway. For the first time, First takes a better look at the man. He takes note of his faded jeans tucked into worn out leather boots. A beige plaid shirt hugs his compact torso. On his head is a scuffed hat with a medium brim. A classic countryside look, somehow made sexy.
Khaotung comes back with a stack of glass tupperware.
“Here you go… I made too much sides, so I thought I’d bring you some. The potato salad is my specialty, I hope you like that,” he passes the containers to First after First sets the large baking dish inside. “And don’t worry about returning the dishes! Whenever you have a moment, we’re just up the road, no rush at all.”
Khaotung’s smile is bright and infectious. First grins back gratefully. The food is so neatly packed and looks delectable. First is about to ask if Khaotung’s wife made it, when he remembers he said he cooked it all himself. He glances at the man’s hands and doesn’t see a ring, then scolds himself for that train of thought.
“I honestly don’t know what to say, thank you so much, Khaotung. What a warm welcome.”
“It’s nothing, really. Your, um…your father and my father were friends, and he and I became close too over the last few years since I took over the farm. My condolences, by the way. I’m sorry for your loss. Mr. Suphisit was a wonderful man.”
“Thank you. Thank you, yes, he was. You knew him?”
“I did, yes. I learned much from him.”
First nods and the two of them take a moment in respectful silence. First’s raw, exhausted heart is touched and a bit stunned - by how sweet the gesture is, how beautiful this man is, and how much he misses his father.
Khaotung clears his throat.
“Well, I’ll leave you to it. Welcome back to Kilbett once again, and I’ll see you around town.
First thanks him once again, smiles and bows and watches him walk back to his truck. There’s something graceful and adorable about his gait.
First has just pressed the door closed when a thought occurs to him, and he smacks his forehead. Why didn’t he invite the man in? How rude! Khaotung may refuse, especially if he has a family to get back to, but it would at least be polite to offer. He snatches the door open again.
“Khaotung!” he calls out just as the man is getting back in his truck.
“Yes?” his face pops up above the open door.
“I’m so sorry, I should have asked earlier. Would you like to come in and join me for dinner? You’ve brought so much food and it smells wonderful, please, come have a bite with me. That is, of course, unless your family is expecting you..”
“Oh, um…” Khaotung smiles brightly again. He rubs his neck, “No, they’re not, but uh…I don’t want to intrude, I’m sure you could use some time to yourself. You’re very kind to offer though.”
“Are you sure? Please, I insist!”
After some polite back and forth, Khaotung finally acquiesces. He walks back to the porch and First welcomes him inside the house. He’s mentally grateful that even if he didn’t think to buy dinner on the road, he stopped at a gas station and nabbed a large pack of beer.
The last thing First had expected on his first night back home is to have company, let alone an attractive guy who cooked him dinner. He’s suddenly self-conscious about the dusty smell of the house, about his own tired appearance. He fumbles around the kitchen for a while, finding the right plates and utensils, while Khaotung patiently waits at the dining table.
When they dig into the food, First nearly cries in delight. The ribs are falling off the bone as he eats, while the meat melts on his tongue alongside the rich mac and the refreshing potato salad. The cornbread is light and fluffy, a crispy crust on the bottom. Khaotung watches him enjoy the meal with unfettered joy.
At the beginning, they exchange small talk only, while First wolfs down plate after plate. Eventually, their conversation moves into getting to know each other and sharing tidbits about the late Mr. Suphisit. Apparently, Khaotung was at the funeral. First doesn’t remember; the ceremonies were a blur to him.
“What are your plans for the farm?” Khaotung asks as their meal winds down. He smiles, “Big question, I’m sure. You don’t have to answer in detail.”
First sighs, but he’s glad to be sharing with someone whose opinion will actually be an informed one.
“Well, the original plan was to just take over and resume things as normal. Dad downscaled over the years, so it was supposed to be fairly manageable for someone like me who knows hardly anything about running a farm. Unfortunately, lots of things dragged after the funeral and I had to delay my move. We didn’t have the money to keep paying the farmhands to run everything. Today was Pawin’s last day; he did the chores this morning. You know him? You probably do. He was dad’s lead farmhand.”
“I do know him, yes. He’s a great guy. Really knows his stuff.”
“Yeah…I couldn’t keep him on, unfortunately. He wanted to take on work at another ranch, at least until I get my bearings around here and can pay him a reasonable wage again. He’s supposed to have left me detailed notes and instructions somewhere… I’ll have to find them tomorrow. But anyway. The plan is that it’s going to be all me for the next few weeks. Getting my bearings and all, trying not to wreck anything around here.”
He chuckles self-deprecatingly and Khaotung smiles back. He tilts his head fondly.
“Well, I’d be glad to help anytime you need anything. I’m just up the road, I can leave you my number too.”
“I appreciate that,” First nods earnestly, pulling out his mobile. As he hands it over for Khaotung to enter his number, their fingers brush and First feels a jolt of warmth that nearly makes him jump. Damn he must be dead wrung-out from the long drive if a simple touch makes him react like this.
“It’s no problem at all,” Khaotung’s eyes are serious as he hands the phone back. “Running this place by yourself can get very overwhelming very fast. It really sucks that you weren’t able to keep the farmhands on. Anything I can do to help you out, count on me. It’s not just me either. You know how Kilbett is, everyone knows everything that goes on, so naturally people heard you were moving in.”
“Really? Oh my…”
“Yes, but it’s not bad, I swear. I keep hearing people say how glad they’d be to lend a hand wherever you and your family need it. I know you haven’t been around for a long time, but the town is fond of your family. We’re a good community. People will be here for you. P’Earth was even saying the other day, he’d be glad to come over and do the plowing for you this spring; he’s got a new tractor he likes showing off. He wanted to come greet you too, but he’s out of town this week.”
Just like that, yet another thing First really couldn’t have imagined would happen on his first night back takes place. He starts crying, in front of his exceedingly kind neighbor nonetheless. His lower lip quivers as tears stream down his face. He stands up to turn away and get himself under control, but Khaotung stops him.
“Oh, First. I’m sorry, my friend,” he wraps First in a warm hug. His body feels solid, his embrace so welcome. “I hope I didn’t say anything out of line there…”
“No, no, I– I just…” First swipes at his wet face, trying to find the words while hugging Khaotung back. “It’s just a lot, you know?”
“I know, buddy, I know. I can’t imagine,” Khaotung’s voice is soft and soothing. “It’s okay. It’s alright. Let it out. We’re here for you, bud.”
Khaotung holds him for God knows how long, rubbing his back. When they pull apart, First lets out an embarrassed laugh, wiping his eyes. There’s nothing but pure compassion in Khaotung’s face. First is touched to see that his eyes seem misty too.
“Sorry…I didn’t mean to break down weeping on your shoulder,” First laughs again after blowing his nose. “I know it’s not what you signed up for when you brought dinner.”
Khaotung dabs at his eyes with a napkin and waves a hand, almost seeming incensed that First would apologize.
“Please…I meant what I said, I’m here for you. Kilbett is here for you. You’re going through a lot, my friend…please don’t feel bad about needing to let it out.”
First nods thankfully.
They clear away the plates and leftovers together. Khaotung insists on helping with the dishes, but First convinces him he’s done plenty and that First will throw them in the dishwasher tomorrow. Khaotung makes his way towards the front door.
“I’ll let you get some rest. The days start really early around here…your chickens will get you up much earlier than you’re used to, I’m sure,” he grins and he’s beautiful. First almost physically shakes his head to clear away the thought.
“Thank you for the warm welcome. I couldn’t have asked for a better first evening back home,” he says, holding the door open.
“The pleasure is entirely mine. Call me if you need anything, okay? I’ll swing by again soon to see if I can lend a hand.”
“I’m sure I’ll end up needing something as early as tomorrow,” First laughs. “Thank you, Khaotung. Have a good evening.”
Shuffling back into the living room as the sound of Khaotung’s truck grows fainter, First feels a wave of exhaustion crash over him. What a day.
Just as he’s about to head upstairs, something catches his eye. A leather cowboy hat, hung on the side of one of the dining chairs. He picks it up, remembering how handsome it looked on Khaotung’s head. He’ll have to give it back tomorrow.
Upstairs, in his childhood bedroom-turned-guest-room, First strips down to his underwear and buries himself under the covers. He sets a 7 AM alarm; he’s out like a light as soon as he closes his eyes.