Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Rusty apartment building, room 101, has three things Alan, a loan officer with a masters in finance and a minor in Political Science, likes about it.

One of those things is that his apartment is named complex 101 but artfully dubbed room 101, which often reminds him of George Orwell’s Dystopian novel 1984, which helps soften the suffering that it is to live in complex 101 because it is exactly as it is dubbed, a room. Another is that room 101 is the only 100 number on the hall, except for room 100, and that is because the plates switch from the 100s down to the lower digits, like 90, because—yes, that is correct—Alan lives on the very last, top floor, at the very end, of the last hall. Alan also likes that his room ends on an odd number because, and this may be his mother’s fault, he’s always preferred oddity over expectation.

Alan had always been a smart kid, always needed glasses, always expected to major in finance—not just math but finance. Partly, because as a kid he’d asked his mom what in her life causes her the most stress and when she’d easily said taxes, he’d asked further until reaching the conclusion that financial debtors are the cruelest people known to man; they are also top of the food chain.

Alan hadn’t wanted to become a finance major to become one of those though, what he really wanted to do was ease the pain his Mother went through, take care of her; though he did also want to be top of the food chain.

Nothing can touch you at the top, he’d thought as a naive child.

So, he studied finance.  He was a fool. He fell into the trap of security, being stable and unchanging makes you the most fearful person of all.

But Alan has always had this fixation, that’s why, when the end of high school came, he’d asked out his crush; a man. No one expected that of him. Just like how no one expected him to waste his minor on political science. If it were up to him and not his counselor he would’ve said screw it and spent it on fine arts for the fuck of it.

Eventually, even in the work place, unpredictability hit and elevated him to dealing with people as a loan officer rather than handling cash and numbers as a bank teller. In the end it didn’t matter, he doesn’t use his minors, just as how his crush-turned-boyfriend of 6 years now, all of a sudden, has no use for him.

He tries not to let it bitch around his life but, well, you can only like to expect the unexpected for so long. It’s when it turns around and bites you that makes you bitter. Maybe that’s why Alan hates those three things he used to once love about this apartment. Now there’s not much to love about it.

Wen doesn’t live in it, they don’t bump hips when they do the dishes, there’s a chair in there sitting at a table that’s always empty and a window stuck perpetually open to the point that he might not even get his deposit back, it’s been left open too long to close. It’s how Alan feels. How can Wen close their life together so quickly? How can he move on without even looking back once? It was unexpected, unpredictable, it came out of nowhere. Alan hates it, oddity in a stable and predictable life that he had had. He no longer has it, all because of oddity. 

So no, he doesn’t like that room 101 is so small that it could barely fit Wen and him, that it no longer has to try so hard and that it feels almost too large. He doesn’t like that it’s the last door at the last stair of the last floor. He doesn’t even care much for the reference to 1984 because Winston and Julia lose their love in the end too and that, it just reminds him of Wen all over again.

Alan’s thought about moving, over and over, again and again, sitting at that table with an empty chair—he’s thought about it. But, no, he couldn’t, not after what happened that night on summer’s eve.

Alan has a neighbor. Prior to this, this hot and humid night, this night in which he comes stumbling home from the bar where Wen’s dropped him off to after their final goodbyes—it was supposed to be closure—Alan hadn’t known of the neighbor that lives in room 100, an even number, a number thought of at first glance; predictable. But he met him in the most embarrassing way possible.

It’s hot, that’s all he’s really aware of after making it up those 70-odd steps. Odd, he laughs to himself. Funny. Not funny at all, he thinks twice, as he just about catches his face with a wall. His hand saves him, nearly, then his shoulder. God, how much did he drink?

He’d been drinking before Wen, then with Wen, then after Wen. Alan’s forgotten all time apart from him, Wen. His entire universe revolves around Wen, or used to—still does. There’s no way he can move on so fast, not when he feels like this, not when he still feels— his knee catches him this time, but it’s not strong enough to hold him.

He expects the floor, predicts it. He doesn’t get it.

A warm, hot, hand holds him under his bicep, a soft chest and meaty shoulder. Whoever this body belongs to smells like almonds and aftershave and something tangy like sweet and sour sauce. He, Alan feels a slight stubble rub against his ear as he tries to find his balance against cheek and shoulder, smells fucking amazing. Or maybe Alan’s just drunk and tired of smelling vodka.

Either way, he’s sweet, in manner and smell. “Hey buddy, you okay?” He uses all his grip and part of the wall to get Alan up and stable on his own too legs. The distance between them gives Alan a chance to see him, his knight in shining bathrobe. It’s pink. Baby pink. It suits his tan skin tone.

“‘M fin’e.” Alan shrugs, wall so stiff that only one arm really goes up. He’s not fine, not at all. He still wants to cry. He could. He might.

The stranger seems to see that, sparkling eyes that look like an animal, a deer or something, maybe a hamster, “Alright, where do you live? I assume on this floor, I’ve been hearing your shoulder all along the wall there.”

Alan stares at his mouth, trying to pick apart the syllables. He gets the sense the guy is saying something, a lot of something, like Alan was bothering him so he came to check and help him to his room, his complex—his room. “T’ny thin’g, these,” he breathes, brow pinching in a blank stare, “complexes.”

The strangers eyes are wide, “huh?” He asks then, the slightest hint of a smile starts to expand, “hah,” he shakes a lip, “Oh man, you are drunk bud.”

“‘M. Ast’u—te.” Alan hiccups.

The stranger nods, thick tight lipped grin. He’s enjoying this. Alan’s glad at least someone is. He just wants to go home.

“Alright buddy.” The stranger says, coming up by his side, “let’s get you home. What room?”

“Room 101.” He says in his best O’Brien accent.

The stranger stares at him a single moment then laughs. “Okay Big Brother, I’m serious, what room?”

Alan looks down at him like he’s crazy, is he crazy? Maybe he’s just new. “Room 101.” Alan says, then he points, down the hall beneath the flickering light by the guarded window, lies a door. It’s not much further from room 96, the wall Alan occupies, and really it’s right next to room 100, he figured the stranger could figure that.

“You know you’ve got a lot of snark for being a drunk man on a Tuesday.” The stranger says. “Gaipa, call me Gaipa.” Gaipa says.

“It’s summer.” Alan says in defense.

“It is summer Alan.”

“How’d you know my name?” Alan asks.

“You’re drunk, you’re speaking aloud.”

Embarrassing. Gaipa shakes his head and giggles, downright giggles at him. Alan’s never heard a grown man giggle, not even Wen.

Gaipa sobers, “Who’s Wen?”

Alan looks down at him, the wide eyes gaping up beneath his shoulder, equally wide grin framed by plump cheeks. Alan looks away, down the hall, “Room 101.”

Gaipa does deliver him to his room, even helps rifle through his pockets for his keys. It’s not invasive but there are some accidental touches to thigh and, other extremities, that by the time Gaipa has the door unlocked his face is so bright it acts as a lamp.

“Well!” Gaipa claps, hands now free since Alan has found the door, “I take it that’s the end of tonight’s ‘venture.”

Alan nods, “Thank you Khun Gai’a.”

“Gaipa.” Gaipa smiles.

Alan nods, “‘Gai’a.”

“You are so drunk.” Gaipa giggles to himself, closed hands coming up to his lips like he could wipe the smile away himself. “Drink as much water as possible before bed.” And then he’s gone, waving by down the hall as he enters his own home. The last thing Alan hears as the door closes is a song, “Honey! I’m home~”

It’s quiet and empty the moment Gaipa is gone. And Alan, suddenly reminded of closed doors, drinks as much water as he can before bed.

It was his mother’s fault for his oddity complex. She was a planner, much like Alan, if anything she raised it in him. But she was, a degree harsh. She was paralyzed without a plan. She could not function without a plan. She was afraid, violently, of everyone and everything. A plan was her way of controlling that fear. It was her method of control.

That must be why in times of struggle he reverts and takes on her traits.

He’s done the dishes and prepared the washer for the next time he needs to do the dishes. It is 4am. He’s unpacked the refrigerator and moved all the old produce to the front in order of use. It is 4:15 am. He’s checked all the expiration dates on the boxes in the pantry and likewise, they sit front of the row in order of first bought first serve. It’s a method of control. He will not be taken by surprise when a nasty odor stinks up his fridge or when his cereal goes stale.

It’s a method, of control, and it is innocent. It is all he has got.

It is barely 4:32 in the morning on a Wednesday. He does not go into work until 7:00, does not leave til 6:00 to get in a half hour early. His first appointment is not til 9:00. He is over-prepared. He should be asleep. But he does not control that. It makes him restless.

With nothing to do Alan sits himself on his sofa and stares at the window costing him his deposit and the second reason he has hesitated moving out for so long. He could get it fixed, then get his deposit back. But it would cost more than the deposit is worth in the end. He spends an hour thinking about it, solving the problem, when at 5:45 he hears the first reason he has yet to move out.

At the time he had not known him as such, he had only known him as Khun Gai’a, the man who lives in apartment 100, but he had learned something knew that morning. Gaipa is an early riser. It felt like solidarity.

There are few things you can control, but waking up in the morning before the sun rises, is the most unpredictable predictable thing you can do. And Gaipa, a kid with wide eyes and a healthy face, was the last person Alan expected to be a morning person. Oddity at its finest. But it didn’t feel like a bad one, it sits safely tucked next to his political science minor; the oddity of Gaipa from room 100.

There are many oddities Alan learns, of Gaipa from that day on. Little things he notices simply because he knows there’s someone living next to him now, it almost makes him hyper-aware. But one of the most surprising things is that, that night hadn’t been their first time meeting at all.

Alan and Gaipa first met on the stairs, Alan going up, Gaipa coming down. Gaipa’s always going somewhere, out. Alan feels like he’s always coming home, despite not having any reason. He wonders if it’s the same for Gaipa, he’s got no reason to go out, but he does.

It’s a simple routine, “Good morning!” Gaipa had greeted first.

“Oh, Good morning.” Alan had reciprocated as he walked up those steps and passed by.

The first thing he recognizes is the height difference as they pass each other on the flat, then Gaipa’s going down and Alan’s going up.

It happens again, and again, and Alan begins to notice how in sync their schedules really are.

“Good morning neighbor.” Alan greets this time. It is 6:28, Alan is heading off to work.

Gaipa looks over his shoulder, nearly running into Alan, “Oh Good morning!” And then they pass each other, going opposite directions out of the building.

The bank is located in a busy part of the city, luckily it’s not a far trip, he doesn’t even really need the car he takes but he takes it anyway because sometimes he’s worried if he walks he’ll run into someone he knows. It’s better to drive the car he spent a mini fortune on just to get it running.

He walks in to the bank at 7:00, lightly greeting Aunt Anong’ at the front desk, before walking down the long hall to his office. It’s neat and orderly but every morning it smells a bit of dust and Alan spends these early hours cleaning up.

He takes the wipes from his briefcase and removes the bobbles from his desk. He ignores the picture frame in his drawer when he clears away the trash from the top roll. He clicks on and starts up his monitor and cleans out his email list. He marks a sticky note to remind himself to respond to one from a new customer, an elderly woman looking to take care of her house and finances before her passing.

By the time 9 strikes, his office is ready for visitors.

The day goes by quickly, with little annoyance or surprise. It’s all very predictable, comfortable. Or it’s supposed to be, but it mostly just feels stale, stagnant, like dust. And the only unpredictable thing is easily solved, a customer shows up late for an appointment. He reschedules for a day later. Problem solved. Now he has no more problems left.

Alan is a thinker, a solver, it’s what he’s comfortable with and honestly gets a bit excited by. Him and Wen used to have a multitude of problems, maybe that’s why he was so attracted to their relationship, it gave him something to do—something to solve. But now, sitting in this office with a clock that tells him when to leave and when to come back, it all feels, dull. It’s boring. Alan misses a little problem in his life.

But he can’t say he misses surprise. That would like saying he missed the day Wen came home with bruises on his neck. Or like missing the day Wen left him at that restaurant and bar to drink himself to oblivion just so he didn’t have to handle him anymore. No, Alan doesn’t miss that. So really, he’s grateful for this boring and stagnant life. He can control it. He’s grateful, he tells himself, and tries to believe it.

It is only on the way home that Alan realizes how out of sync their schedules really are; him and his neighbor. “Good evening.” Alan waves.

Gaipa looks over the railing, smile beginning to grow only to crescent at the sight of him, “Good evening!”

It is now 6:30pm and Alan is heading back from work; he wonders where Gaipa is off to so late in the day. He may never find out, he figures, as he watches the man’s back disappear down the stairwell.

Alan fishes for his keys, finding them stuffed in his briefcase among an empty pen and old receipt. It lets him into his home easily but the wind from the open window tries to keep him out. Luckily, he wins. The door closes behind him.

He sighs, dropping his brief case gently onto the table by the sofa, then he begins to fight with his tie. It comes off submissively and he wins another day against the cloth. He hangs up his blazer on the hanger by the door, rolls up his sleeves, then gets to work; it’s Wednesday.

He starts in the kitchen, taking out the dishes from the washer, putting them away, then putting on a pot to bowl some rice. He opens the vents in the bathroom and gathers the bleach in a bucket to scrub the sinks in the kitchen. He airs out the grill of the oven, puts the old dish clothes in the laundry. By the time he’s done cleaning dinner is ready. Vegetables and rice and a Tupperware of heated up meat; beef. It’s delicious, even when eaten alone.

After his meal he starts on the living room. He flicks on the radio, low jazz filtering through, as he passes by. The sun starts to lower and the lamp is clicked by the toe of his shoe. He vacuums the sofa, wipes up the table with a fiber cloth, feels his bangs fall into his face. He wets his hand when ringing out the rag and uses it to push his bangs back. They sit for a minute, then begin to fall.

Alan’s so lost in the control of cleaning that he startles when the door closes to the complex next to him. It’s only when he hears that tale tell song, “Honey, I’m home!” That he recognizes it, Gaipa’s home.

Alan wonders, for a short moment, who he lives with. He’s never seen them before but Gaipa greets them every time he returns. It’s a curiosity, an oddity in Alan’s daily stagnant life and that’s really what this is all about. This strange almost analytical account of his neighbors daily life. Alan’s being strange, but he’s bored, this occupies him at least. So he lets himself wonder, about the unknown partner his neighbor lives with.

He cleans the bedroom. It’s a successful cleaning day, it’s easier to clean when there’s less mess, but, it’s systematic and dull. There’s no socks in the way of his vacuum, no feet poking his back when he fixes the bed sheets. There’s no extra dishes in the sink when he goes back to ring out the rag. It’s dull.

Alan finishes cleaning, feeling unsatisfied. It’s the reason he teaches for the wine cabinet. The jazz station plays on as he uncorks and drinks from the mouth.

There are a few reasons Alan hasn’t moved out yet, besides the deposit and his neighbor. But most of those reasons have to do with sentiment and Alan just can’t find it in himself to let go. He knows he has to, but he doesn’t want to. Not yet. Plus, there’s Gaipa next door.

Alan doesn’t know what that means yet, but in the point of time that he’s thinking back on how this all came to be, he knows it’s the sole reason he stays. Alan will understand soon how important Gaipa is in this decision, but for now he blames it on sentiment and a broken window. And he drinks. He drinks to oblivion.

Somehow, he can’t really remember how, he ends up outside of his apartment. He can still hear the jazz station playing inside. Alan sighs, head resting against his apartment door. With a half hearted attempt, he wobbles the handle, it doesn’t move. The door is locked. Shit.

It’s the sound of cheery whistling down the hall that tells him Gaipa’s come home. Double shit. Alan hadn’t even realized Gaipa had left his apartment at any point which means it must be early in the morning and Gaipa must’ve gone to get the mail only to come back. This is embarrassing. Who could guess the twice happening of such an event? This was something Alan had not predicted.

He also doesn’t expect Gaipa to take one look at him, smile something incredulous, then—he sits down next to him. “Rough day?” Gaipa asks, back sliding to the empty space of door next to Alan.

“Months, m’re like.” Alan mumbles.

Gaipa hums, “Not a fan of summer?”

Alan stares at a patch of carpet, nothing special about the patch, it’s just carpet, “Not anymore.”

“Girlfriend dump you?” Gaipa questions.

Alan nods, “He did.”

Gaipa nods, undeterred. “That sucks. He lock you out?”

Alan shakes his head, “I live alone. That’s why I’m locked out.”

Gaipa stares at him a moment, then, “How often does this happen?” Alan knows if he were to turn and look at him he’d see a pulling smile, he hears one in his voice.

Alan tries to think up a number, something accurate. “Twice.”

Gaipa looks surprised. “So this isn’t a daily occurrence.”

Alan shakes his head, a smile biting his lip, he throws his head back, bumping the door before looking over at Gaipa, his throat hurts stretched so far exposed, “No.” he tells him. “I’m usually much more in control.” He says, a bit proud of that fact.

Gaipa watches him, Alan watches him back. Alan watches those eyes flick across his face, his neck, his face again. “You should get a spare key.”

Alan hums, “Smart. I should.”

Gaipa nods. “Well,” he claps, cutting through something Alan can’t quite describe, “We should get you inside.”

Alan’s brow furrows. “How? It’s locked.”

Gaipa just smiles then removes a safety pin from his jeans. They only sink a little lower, not enough to show anything but his tummy. Alan’s stuck staring at that before he notices Gaipa’s poking at the lock of his door. It opens. Alan blinks. Unpredictable.

Gaipa turns back to him over his shoulder, a self satisfied smile, “You’re welcome.” He says, like a farewell or a goodnight. Alan watches him all the way to his door and enter his home. The door shuts and then, “Hi honey, I’m home.”

Alan enters his room of jazz.

In the morning he blames his head ache on the time rather than the empty bottle on the table. It leaves him off kilter for the remainder of the morning but he makes it out of his apartment by 6:34 and he’s resetting his watch on the way down the stairs when he hears him, “Good morning!” Gaipa greets.

Alan looks up, a bit startled, then down. Gaipa is just coming home it looks like. “Good morning.” Alan nods, silently registering the running clothes Gaipa’s wearing.

He must’ve gone out for a jog. Alan misses when he did those, he’s been in a slump for a bit so—anyway, he continues down the stairs. Gaipa’s bare arm is hot, even through his blazer, when they cross the small flat of the stairwell. And then they’re continuing on as if they’d never greeted each other. Such is life.

Alan gets to work at 7:05. It leaves the remainder of his day feeling off kilter, similar to his morning. It’s unusual, it’s annoying. It makes him fearful and out of control. Then his rescheduled client comes in at 7:45, and hour early. Alan wants to scream. She’s an elderly woman with a nice smile, Alan doesn’t scream.

He invites her to take a seat and offers her some water but she’s busy staring at the rainbow pen in his holder, a gift from Wen when he went to pride. Alan hadn’t forgotten to get rid of it, it just, still had ink left.

“I’ve made the right choice.” Says the woman sitting in front of him.

Alan blinks. “I’m happy to hear that.” He says, slowly.

She turns to him, eyes beginning to crescent, a genuine soft thing, it makes Alan feel warm. “You’ll do a good job at taking care of me and my son.”

Alan nods, professionalism daring to slip in front of a strong and comforting mother figure, but he’s in control here, in his office. His tie chokes him. “I will do my best Ma’am.”

“Aunty, you can call me aunty.”

“Yes Mrs. Hong, I mean Aunty.”

She smiles wider. “Now then, let’s get down to business shall we?”

Mrs. Hong is very well versed in what it is she wants done, handled, and how she wants it done, handled. It’s surprising but it makes Alan’s life a lot easier, and for an odd reason he wants to impress Mrs. Hong. So he does his very best.

“That should be everything for today.” He announces.

Mrs. Hong nods, “Good, I’ll be back to check on you within a week.”

Alan blinks, “That’s not necessa—“

“I may want to take out another loan, you never know. Schedule me for Thursday, 8:45.”

Alan blinks, then does as she says. “Yes Mrs. Hong, I’ll see you Thursday then.” He makes a sticky note, Mrs. Hong will arrive at 7:45.

Mrs. Hong arrives at 8:45 on the dot. Alan’s prediction was wrong. It’s a bit frustrating seeing as how he’s been consistently checking his watch and waiting for her but, it makes him a bit excited for their next appointment. Will she show up early? Or maybe she’ll be late again like she was the first time they were scheduled to meet. It’s something to solve while he grows bored in this stuffy stagnant office.

Despite Mrs. Hong’s financial affairs being mostly in order, she schedules frequent weekly appointments. They do get business done, like answering Mrs. Hong’s questions about personal finance and how to get equity on her house but, he’s also learned that when Mrs. Hong gets on a topic, only Mrs. Hong can get off the topic.

“And that’s how I found my son painting on the bathroom mirror at nearly four in the morning. He’d said it was a way to exercise control by creating a contained chaos. I never understood it really,” Mrs. Hong has lots to say about her son, that’s what majority of their conversations seem to be about during these appointments.

Mostly, Mrs. Hong is an oddity in his workplace. It’s almost refreshing and in a way she reminds him of Gaipa. Putting aside any physical difference and oddly similar smiles, the two are unpredictable in the oddest of ways and Alan’s finds himself intrigued by thinking of them often throughout his day. It’s a controlled chaos in his otherwise stagnantly contained life.

It only makes sense that, similar to the way oddities crawl and creep into his mind, he’s begun to run into them outside of it as well. His neighbor is not an unexpected character to run into in their shared apartment building, but running into him at a mall while window shopping after work? Odd. Highly unusual. Its going to plague Alan’s mind for days.

“Khun Gaipa,” Alan nods his greeting, it’s only polite, “fancy seeing you here.”

Gaipa looks up from his perusing, a men’s blazer twice his size, “Oh! Room 101.” Alan doesn’t roll his eyes but if they were on friendlier less strange terms, he might’ve. “I’m just kidding with you,” Gaipa smiles, “nice running into you Alan. Doing some shopping?”

“Just looking, have to keep the ties updated.” Alan says, like it’s funny or a joke that Gaipa would understand. It is neither but Gaipa laughs nonetheless, it sounds genuine. “And you?” Alan asks, watching the day Gaipa seems to notice the blazers he’s looking at wouldn’t fit him in a million years.

“Well,” he says, looking away from those blazers and looking at the ties instead, they wouldn’t suit him either, “I’m waiting for someone to be done with her own shopping.”

Alan hums, oh, the partner. Maybe he’ll get a chance to see what she looks like. He wonders but despite the excitement at that, he feels a bit disappointed. Maybe with how well Gaipa had taken the reveal of his disposition, Alan had been hoping Gaipa was gay too. An odd thing to get disappointed over but Alan’s been experiencing a lot of odd things lately, it’s almost overwhelming.

The conversation doesn’t die, but it slows a bit. Alan doesn’t really know how to continue but he also doesn’t feel like ending it. Luckily, Gaipa picks it up for him. “Usually I go to the market,” he says, touching the fabric of a tie that Alan already owns but doesn’t like very much, from the way Gaipa immediately moves to the next he must not like it much either, “but I’m out with my Ma and she prefers the mall.” His mom? So he’s not with his partner. This really might be the most unpredictable man Alan’s ever met. He almost wants to laugh. “Hey Alan,” Alan turns, “what do you think about this one?”

Gaipa’s holding a black paisley and royal blue combination tie, it has a tasteful white strip. It looks luxurious but is actually quite cheap because of its materials. “It’s good, why what makes you like it?”

“I don’t know,” Gaipa hums, “I just think it’d suit you.” Gaipa’s eyes smile before the rest of him does. “It’d match your glasses.” He reasons.

Alan blinks. He looks away from Gaipa’s eyes to the tie, he swallows. “It would.” Then Gaipa drops it and that’s the end of that.

They chat for a bit more, small talk, like the weather. And in the end Alan never does meet Gaipa’s mom. The two exchange goodbyes shortly after. Alan holds the bag to his new purchase as he waves to Gaipa.

On his way home he stops to think about it, the impulsive decision he made.

The tie sits neat in a box in a bag, it’s not like he couldn’t afford it but, it was impulsive. And it’s not like he needed it. He hadn’t gone to the mall planning to buy anything, he was quite content with keeping his balance the way it was, it made him comfortable knowing he had money, and that at any moment he could spend it. But actually spending it? That was a different affair. And usually took a larger decision than a simple suggestion.

Either way, he locks the door behind him, he’s not dissatisfied he decides. He sets the bag on the table and removes his current tie. Taking the box from the bag he opens it to see the paisley.

It’s pretty, and it does suit him. He holds it up to his neck, turning to the mirror by the door; it does match his glasses. So, he’s not dissatisfied he decides. It was a worthy purchase. He puts it away in his bedroom drawer and tries hard to avoid the thought that he doesn’t own a blazer to match it. He can always buy one later.

Odd. Such an odd thought. He forgets it for another.

The bedside light is on. Someone’s been by. Alan sighs, no feeling of worry or fear, just frustration. If Wen was looking to grab his stuff he could’ve done the decent thing and left a message or not come by when he knew he’d be gone. Or not come by at all, a bitter part of Alan thinks.

Alan actually agrees with this bitter voice. Wen had no business here anymore, he never even really liked this apartment.

Whatever, he turns on his heel and starts the shower. He doesn’t want to think of that, of Wen, anymore.

Water feels nice. Water is water and always water, predictable? Wrong. Water is never the same. Water is always unique, too hot, too cold; above all it tastes different each time. Tap water and bottled water, all different brands, even if it’s from the same bottle it’s taste is, irregular. It’s all unpredictable. But it’s out of his control so Alan’s gotten used to being content with enough.

Warm water that mimics the shower he’s had the night before feels like the proper temperature. If he suddenly feels like diverging from routine he can end this shower with cold water and exfoliating soap. He could even brush his teeth in the shower if he so pleased but then that throws off the entire routine for the night and really, why bother at that point. It’s no longer a change in mundanity but a change to his life and that’s, overwhelming.

Alan prefers routine, he enjoys oddity, but he prefers routine. He just wants to be content at all times. But you can’t expect a feeling. Other than sex, you can expect pleasure from sex. But if you add another partner than even that, you cannot expect pleasure, sometimes it’s only pain. Alan’s not a big fan of sex either then, he decides.

He likes things that he can expect reward from. He likes good food and ties that come undone easily. He likes numbers, you can expect the correct answer with the correct numbers; he’s a numbers guy. Alan likes, well, many things but he can’t really put it all in one cohesive thought right now. The water is going cold, he’s run out of time to think of it all.

He turns the knob; the water stops. That’s the end of his shower for tonight. He readies for bed.

He likes his bed, Alan thinks. He likes satin pajamas that feel nice, he even likes that sometimes they rub static onto his skin and if he kicks his legs beneath his sheets they’ll create a warm feeling that electrifies his body. It makes him feel giddy. It reminds him of being a child. Alan likes satin pajamas, but he doesn’t like waking up to the pant legs riding up his thighs. That is less fun. Uncomfortable. Unpredictable.

Alan sighs. He’s tired, he just wants to sleep. But he can’t seem to stop thinking. It’s what he’s good at, so really, he should be content with this. But, no, it’s a bother. It steals his time and eats at him. There’s nothing left to think of so why does he persist? This is where a good round of sex would be appealing. Turns his brain off. But the unpredictability of sex with a partner is, intimidating.

It could be good, or it could be bad; it can be shameful and it can be painful and it can be irreversibly detrimental to routine and life. It could end with his heart pounding and easy rest, or it could end with guilt. What for? He does not know. He just feels, so guilty . Alan prefers running.

It gets his heart racing, it can be done alone, and by the end of it, he’s ready to sleep without thought. He misses jogging, he misses running. He is too tired to get up and do it now but, he’ll do it, he plans. He plans to start jogging again. It’ll content him.

The sun blinks at him. Alan blinks back. So he did sleep after all.

With another look and a sigh Alan gets up. It’s easy to get up, he has the energy which pulls him from his bed. It makes him walk around his apartment, this room, and open all the curtains. He grabs his suit and changes in the bathroom, brushes his teeth, combs his hair and applies something that smells like sunscreen. It’s been making his skin smooth and Wen bought it for him on a birthday a year ago so he uses it til the bottle runs out. When it’s gone, well, he just won’t use it anymore. It’ll effect his routine.

He doesn’t think about that as he turns on the stove. He makes something to eat, something that uses the rest of the eggs, the leftover carton of milk and the spice rack he has to reorganize. It’s a daunting task, that spice rack, but he’ll get to it—eventually.

He eats at the table. Spoon after spoon. He hardly registers the taste other than the fact that it’s warm and he likes warm food. He drinks the water from his glass. Disgusting. Today’s water tastes like dust for some reason. He chews an ice cube instead.

He stands, washes his plate and drains his cup. He clears that table and checks his watch after. Time to leave it tells him, so he does.

It’s as he’s coming down the stairwell that he runs into him, Gaipa. “Good morning!” He calls, he’s wearing his jogging clothes.

Alan wants to jog too, maybe he’ll go the next morning. “Good morning,” Alan greets, a polite smile turning down the stairwell.

Gaipa smiles back at him. Alan sees those eyes glance to his neck then glance away. He’s not wearing his new tie, he’ll have to buy a suit to match it later. Gaipa looks a bit disappointed. Alan feels a bit disappointed now.

Regardless, Gaipa starts conversation, “Did you have company yesterday?”

“Hm?”

“Oh well,” Gaipa blinks, hand on that rail going a bit tight, “a neighbor said they saw someone go inside your apartment and was curious since you don’t get many visitors.”

Gaipa doesn’t seem to have any idea how creepy that sounds. “You talk with the neighbors?” Alan questions.

Gaipa nods, “They call me friendly.”

Alan nods back, “You are,” he agrees, “and no, I don’t get many visitors.” He checks his watch half-heartedly, “Someone just came by to pick up his stuff.”

“Ah,” and then something clicks, “Oh, I see.” Gaipa suddenly looks so bashful, “I’m sorry for prying.”

Alan shakes his head, usually he would mind, he doesn’t like people in his business, but it’s Gaipa, “It’s alright.” He says, he means it, “Thanks for keeping an eye out for me.”

Gaipa blinks, “Oh, yeah! Of course.” He smiles.

Alan smiles back. He doesn’t feel bothered at all, not by Gaipa. He heads to work feeling much better than he did the night before.

By the time he gets in, Anong calls him on the intercom. “You’ve got a client who’s been sitting for a bit.”

“Already?” And then Anong sends in Mrs. Hong and Alan has no questions. “Mrs. Hong,” he stands immediately, “I am so sorry for the wait.”

She waves him off, sitting down easily in front of his desk, “It’s no trouble.” She assures, “I know I’m impatiently early.”

Alan sits in his seat, tugging at his tie, “The client sets the schedule.” he says, hoping to ease any worries she may have.

Mrs. Hong has no worries it seems. “You really are the perfect Banker Khun Alan.” She says.

“I appreciate the compliment.”

“And I appreciate you,” she smiles, “Now then, business?”

Business is signatures and signings on a new lease for a building she’s selling. An old chicken stall it seems. “I have no use for it anymore and my son is going back to school so I want to open an account to invest in for his loans.”

“Of course, we can do all that right here, I’ll just need your signature.”

“Great, do you have a pen?”

Alan goes to grab the rainbow one in its holder but as he tries it on an old receipt, it fails him. “Just a moment.” He opens his drawer, looking for another but, it’s the wrong drawer. The picture frame lays face down. He spares half a mind grabbing it and putting it on the desk, looking for a pen. It’s only when he finds one that he realizes his mistake.

“Who’s he?” Mrs. Hong asks, looking at the framed photo, face up.

Alan swallows a sigh, “My ex.” He’s always hated that photo, he lies.

Mrs. Hong looks away from it, she looks at Alan’s face instead, “How long were you two together?” She questions.

“6 years,” Alan can’t seem to look away, he really, really had loved that photo, “nearly married if it weren’t illegal.” But he hates it now. He puts it back in the drawer. He shuts it without a second look.

“That’s tough.” Mrs. Hong acknowledges. Alan nods. “Have you got back into the dating scene yet?”

Alan feels a bit weird, discussing his personal life with a client but, it’s Mrs. Hong. She feels like a mother to him. “I haven’t, can’t quite move on yet.”

“You should, moving on is the only thing you can control in situations like these.” Control. He can’t control his emotions. There’s no way he could control moving on. “Have you tried falling in love again?”

Alan replies honestly, “I haven’t. I just don’t think I’m ready.”

“No one ever does, take my son for example,” Alan feels that smile tugging at his face. Trust that beneath the oddity of Mrs. Hong, she will always be expected to bring up her son in conversation, at least once.  “The kid had this crush on this man for years, and I mean years! Come on Alan I’m telling you, this boy was over the moon for him. He’d bring him food every day and he’d always come to me and go, Ma, what else do you think Uncle Jim would want? And I’d just shake my head, How about a date? I’d tell him, but he’d just go red and shake his head! Kid was too shy to start anything.”

Alan nods, setting down his pen to listen, “What happened next? Did the two date?” He asks.

Mrs. Hong smiles, “No, they didn’t. Uncle Jim found out about his feelings and rejected him, he was as soft as he could be but, well, he’d walked in on him and his lover the day before so, I don’t know how gentle one can be about that .”

Alan’s mouth tugs into something low, “I’m sorry to hear that.”

Mrs. Hong laughs, “I’m not, the kid’s got a new crush now. He moved so he didn’t have to be stuck around the guy who broke his heart but now he’s found a new guy to do it for him. I never doubt my son’s ability to fall in love though, and honestly isn’t that the only thing we can do? We can’t control when we lose love, but we can control when we get it. So my advice would be to go find yourself someone to love.”

Alan looks at the satisfied and confident face or Mrs. Hong and for a moment he entertains her crazy idea. What would it be like if Alan could choose to love again, who would he love?

For a moment he thinks of Gaipa, he thinks of Gaipa and his partner and the song, “Honey, I’m home!” Would it be like that if Alan fell in love again? Could he get a love that waits for him and greets him when he comes home? Or maybe even just a crush like Mrs. Hong’s son, someone to think about and keep his boring days exciting.

It’d be nice, if he could control that, but he doesn’t. Love isn’t a choice, it just happens. But Alan doesn’t bother arguing with Mrs. Hong, there’d be no point, so he just smiles and nods. “So then, that signature?”

Mrs. Hong allows the change gracefully, and opens the account for her son. Business that day is successful.

When he parks his car in the garage below the building he’s left thinking of it—business. It would be nice to fall in love, he thinks, sitting in his car, engine running.

There’s a song on the radio and it goes a little like “dum didi dum” and it sounds like the moment Alan met love for the first time. That very first time, before Wen. He’d met unpredictability. He’d met a boy, a young boy, in an advertisement. It felt striking, it felt good, it felt odd.

Alan misses falling in love that quickly, with an advertisement, with a song. He turns down the radio. It’s stopped sounding like that memory after the chorus. Now it just sounds like it’s popular and Alan has no familiarity with popularity. His life isn’t so predictable, it’s odd.

If it had been, he’d have stayed with Wen. Wen, would have stayed with him. Really, he’s been over this, he should be over this. And he thinks he is, somewhere, inside his mind he’s done with Wen but, it’s love. Alan isn’t done with love yet. He misses it, desires it.

He’s over Wen. Really, he is. Alan thinks he was over Wen before Wen was with him. It’s just that the thought of coming home to that empty room was terrifying. Alan couldn’t do it. He does it every day now. He’s tired of it.

This is what he’d hoped to avoid through predictability and routine. Through order and control he’d hoped to prevent this fear from coming true. But it’s here now. And Alan is alone without love and without familiarity.

Maybe he should get a pet. And that’s the line because getting a pet to live alone in that tiny room while he’s at work all day is cruelty and Alan stops thought at cruelty. He will not allow it. His desire is not to be sated at the expense of another, it’s not fair.

But all he wants is to care for someone. Is that wrong? All he wants is to come home to the light on, to wake up early and make breakfast, to wait at a table and see that empty chair be filled. He wants to bring flowers home for no goddamn reason but to bring beauty, a smile. Now that , is unfair.

To think Alan craves what he could never deliver before. So then it really was him, the problem, not Wen. He should’ve taken better care of the pet he’d owned, of Wen. Trapped, alone, in that tiny room all day while Alan was at work.

The radio no longer sounds like love but cruelty so Alan switches off the engine altogether.

Walking up the steps to room 101 is a feat every day, it reminds Alan of his plans for tomorrow morning. He’ll get up before 6, he’ll get up at 5, no need to be awake at 4 when he barely gets to bed at 10. So he’ll be up at 5 and he’ll put on his shorts and shoes and he’ll grab that little pocket sized music player that Wen bought him for their first Christmas and he’ll walk down these very steps and he’ll run to the park and back.

He’s just thinking of how many laps it will take to hit 6 when he passes Gaipa in the stairwell.

“Good evening,” Alan greets without thought as they pass each other on the flat.

Gaipa looks up, he’s shorter than him like this, “Good evening!” He smiles, “Welcome back from work.”

Alan smiles back, “And you,” he nods, “wherever it is you go around this time. Safe travels.” He says like a goodbye but he hesitates to take the first step up the next case of stairs.

Gaipa blinks, he looks like he might say something but, he smiles. “Thank you.” Then he’s gone. Alan continues to that staircase.

Gaipa is always going out when Alan is coming in, but he comes in when Alan goes out. Odd. An oddity Alan knows of and so that should be the end of it, he’s made the observation there should be nothing more but, he’s a solver and this feels like a question.

Where does Gaipa go?

Firstly Alan should look for why, incentive, motivation, a reason to come in. In the mornings Gaipa jogs, he seems to finish just as Alan leaves for work. Fair. In the evening he leaves. Where? No, why?

Every evening that Alan comes home Gaipa leaves the building. Alan almost wonders if Gaipa leaves so often to escape something, but the only thing he can imagine running from would be his room, which would mean he leaves his partner every evening. For a moment Alan imagines it is the partner that he’s running from, who he also shares that apartment—room—with. But that thought makes Alan feel guilty. Why? He doesn’t know really, but he does, feel guilty.

He’s sure Gaipa’s relationship is lovely, going fine. Not everyone has screwed up relationships, not everyone screws them up.

Alan fights his way in the door. It’s his fault really. He knows this. He solved that in the car before he even ran into Gaipa escaping down the staircase like he’s—he’s not running away. Alan knows that.

Gaipa looks happy when he leaves. Gaipa isn’t running away from anything he’s running toward something. The partner? Maybe the partner works late, veto—no. The partner is always inside the apartment when Gaipa returns. So, something else? Another partner—veto, no. Gaipa isn’t like that.

Alan can’t solve this, it’s insufficient information and honestly, he has no reason to ask. He’s just bored. Really. Him and Gaipa his neighbor aren’t close. They barely know each other. But this room is so small and boring and Alan for some reason is so damn curious about where Gaipa goes in the evenings every day, routine .

Gaipa has a routine. Maybe Alan’s surprised by this so that’s why he’s fixated? Alan knows Gaipa has routine, he goes jogging. Maybe he’s jealous? Alan has routine, his routine is that every damn time he runs into Gaipa he’s left trying to figure him out like a rubix cube.

That’s enough he decides. There’s a few things to prepare for the plan tomorrow morning so he quickly stops whatever it is about to obsess him. Gaipa, from room 100, the oddity.

Then his next thought is, is it an obsession?

He readies for bed quicker than usual; he wants to run. He showers and shaves and slips into satin despite static already buzzing in his legs; he wants to run. He figured if he sleeps faster then he’ll wake quicker and he’ll be running down those steps. Will he catch up to Gaipa in time? Will they even run into each other? That would be odd, so odd; Alan is giddy.

His life is so boring and lonely, he needs a friend. He can’t get a pet, it’d be cruel, but he can have a friend, right? Gaipa would be a good choice. He has routine and he’s predictable; he’s odd. He jogs in the mornings and leaves in the evenings; their schedules are never in sync. Is Alan really so desperate?

“Mama, am I really so desperate?” He has to ask. She does not reply. He turns over on his side and the energy tingling his legs has him stuck to the bed; heavy. This is cruel. He doesn’t have a single thought further.

It is 4:58 when he wakes. There’s no need to be up at 4 but he’s up and by the time it’s 5 he has his shoes on and the key turning the knob. Locked. He wants to run. He’s in the hallway at 5 in the morning, he walks.

He greets the staircase and, no Gaipa. They don’t usually meet at the top. He takes the next step. Halfway through he realizes he’s looking for him over each rail and case he enters and he feels bitter, disgusting, something ugly at himself.

How dare you? It says. It is not a question.

He should not be expecting to see Gaipa, he should not be looking for him. Why? It’s cruel. You can’t force someone into your life, into your activity. He’d tried with Wen. If he runs into Gaipa now he will most definitely force him into running with him, somehow, in a way unbeknownst to him because even when he does not mean it, he is controlling. He knows this. Wen said so. Cruel.

Alan bites his lip and shuts his eyes on the next stair case. When they open, there is no Gaipa. Cruel. He leaves the building and he runs til 6.

By the time he returns to the building and reaches the end of the staircase, he’s given himself an hour-long window to shower and change before work. That hour is quickly being eaten by the appearance of Gaipa. Alan had thought they wouldn’t run into each other after he failed to see him but, unpredictable is he. He’s coming down the staircase.

“Oh! Alan!” Gaipa seems to always wear a smile when they see each other. “I rarely see you out of that suit, go for a run this morning?”

Alan nods, a bit stunned. Gaipa is standing above him, tall, coming down the stairs when he’s usually looking up. “Yes.” Alan breathes. He’s not out of breath. “Where are you heading?” The sound of his mouth closing so fast is swallowed by the answer.

“My mom called me in early, so,” Gaipa says, he looks excited about being asked. Alan feels mortified. But it’s like he’s said the magic word and now, all the information he’s been looking for is being given to him. “I help her out usually in the evenings but she has an appointment later today so I’m coming in now. She’s been really excited about it actually, and I’m happy we still keep in touch after I moved.”

“Ah,” Alan doesn’t know what to say, he’s been hit with so much to process, “what, do you help her with?”

That smile on Gaipa’s face, something so polite, turns into something genuine, like joy. And he tells him, Gaipa tells Alan all about the newest ventures his mother has been getting up to, how he used to work with her and ever since he moved he promised not to drift away. In the evenings they go for lunch and she calls it helping her out but they both know it’s just an excuse to stay in touch.

“And where are you going this time?” Alan asks, something easy tugging his lips. The rail is setting into his hipbone but he pays it no mind.

“I’m not sure, I’m picking her up right now but, I haven’t planned that far.” Gaipa’s eyes sparkle, “Any recommendations?” He asks.

Alan blinks, “Well, at this hour,” he checks his watch only to go light headed at the time. It’s nearly 6:45 already, “Shit I’m gonna be late.” He looks back up and Gaipa’s face matches his.

“Oh my god,” Gaipa rushes, “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to keep you so late!” He apologizes.

Alan waves him off, “No its not your fault! I asked, I was going to say though that this early there’s nothing really open but in an hour or so there’s an art exhibit down by the telephone company, the big building next to the mall. You should check it out some time today.”

Gaipa’s smile is blinding, “Thank you, I really appreciate it and your time. Please don’t be late now!”

Alan blinks, as if he hadn’t forgotten, and nods, “Right, no, thank you! I took your time as well.” And then they part. Alan watches the crown of Gaipa’s head disappear down the stairwell and he feels his heart go with it as he checks the time, god he’s going to be so late.

He is. He is about an hour late by the time he gets into the office. He’s in no big trouble other than the fact that news travels and even though it really isn’t that big of a deal, Mrs. Hong finds out about it from the receptionist when she comes in that evening.

“I can’t believe you came in an hour late!” She’s grinning with all her teeth.

Alan nods again and again, waiting for it to end, “Mistakes happen.”

“What did you mistake your watch for a piece of chicken?” She scoffs, leaning in back in her chair only to lean forward again, “How did that happen? You’re always glued to your time teller.”

Alan avoids eye contact, “I ran into a neighbor and lost track a time.”

Like a shark to blood in the water, “A neighbor you say.” Mrs. Hong is locked in. “Is he attractive? What’s his credit score?”

“Mrs. Hong!” Alan scolds.

“Aunty!”

“Aunty Hong!” Alan scolds with a smile.

“So you can’t tell someone’s credit info within a glance?” Mrs. Hong looks disbelieving, “Aren’t you a banker?”

Alan rubs his head, “Loan officer but sure, and no. I can’t.”

“You should.” Mrs. Hong says, like he really should and that it isn’t probably, definitely, illegal. “So, you ran into this neighbor and he made you late.” She gathers, hunting for more, “That cute huh?” She grins, “Any cuter than my son?”

“Please stop trying to hook me up with your son, its unprofessional.” Alan pleads, something he’s said numerous times after making her acquaintance. She’s persistent, he’ll give her that.

“So you like your neighbor more than my son.” She looks like she’s double checking, as if he’ll turn around and say he was fibbing or maybe that he’s been secretly into her son this entire time.

“I don’t like my neighbor.” We’re not even friends. He doesn’t say. “Anyway, back to business Mrs. Hong.” He sits up in his chair, “You were just here yesterday so what brings you to my office so soon?”

“Right, well, you know that stall we sold?”

Alan’s day gets much busier. Mrs. Hong has him scrambling to purchase a new stall in a different spot in the market because the previous one has a hold on it for another name, and then, well, really it’s just a mess.

“And why do you need a stall in this market again?”

“Oh you wouldn’t get it, chicken politics, but really if I want to keep my bid in the annual taste testing competition then I have to be apart of the market, legally.”

“Legally.” Alan exits the last bar on the document and with a sigh he takes a sip of his water. He’s finished about 5 of these.

Honestly, part of him thinks Mrs. Hong is fibbing and just looking for excuses to steal his time but Alan gets paid by salary so, it doesn’t bother him if that theory were true. It’s nice having a friend like Mrs. Hong. At least she is vocal enough about their relationship that he knows they’re friends.

“I’ll be back again to check on how that bid is going for the stall.” She grabs her purse and finishes her water before standing.

Alan stands just to stretch his legs then uses the excuse to walk her to the door. Mrs. Hong catches him with a smile but says nothing, she just grabs him into a hug and leaves before Alan can process.

He feels emotional by the time he’s got his wits back. He grabs for his neck and tidies his professionalism til his tie chokes him. There’s no time for that.

There’s this tie and that tie and, oh, there’s another that he’s never seen before. Each one makes him feel a little better about the weekend finally being here, and just a little less bitter about the paisley suit he bought just a minute ago. He’s carrying it around with him in a very expensive bag while perusing these inexpensive ties.

None of the other suit shops had the perfect match and he had to make sure it was a match. It’s not like he can’t afford it but, it’s a bit excessive. He doesn’t even have an event to wear this too. But still, it’s a nice suit and he doesn’t regret the purchase. The ties are nice too, not enough to buy but perfect to de-stress.

“This really is where to find you.” Alan turns around at the sound of him, “Not that I was looking for you just,” he shakes his head, Alan stares, “Hi.” Hair falls into his face. They meet again in the mall, Alan muses. “You must like ties a lot.” Gaipa says, he’s carrying a smoothie.

Alan follows the shape of Gaipa’s brow with his eye, his hair covers it a bit, “It’s a way of unwinding,” he says, “window shopping.” He almost thinks to hide the bag, proof of purchase.

Gaipa glances to it, then back to him. He raises a brow, “So you don’t come to the mall to spend as much money as possible?”

Alan shakes his head, “I’m more frugal than that.”

Gaipa gasps, “Oh come on!” Alan is almost taken back by his passion, polite reservation gone in the blink of an eye, “If you’ve got the money you have to spend it. Money is for experiences and little things that make you happy, it’s not all just for unwinding, sometimes you’ve got to get wound up!” Gaipa seems extra friendly today, like they’re not just neighbors and that thought makes him a bit nervous. Alan doesn’t expect it, the philosophy or the excitement but, he kind of gets it.

“You like to live in the moment a lot huh.”

Gaipa’s eyes brighten, “You figured that much out about me?”

Alan swallows, “Well,” he says, “we see each other on the stairs a lot.”

Gaipa giggles, “Guess my personality jumps at you a bit.” He nods to himself, then he takes a sip of his smoothie. The straw looks like he chews on it, his lips look bitten; a biter. Alan quickly looks away, he should not be observing that closely.

“So,” Alan clears his throat, “you come with anyone today?” He doesn’t know what he’s saying just that he wants Gaipa to respond so he can say something else, so they can keep talking. Alan has nothing better to do on a Friday night.

Gaipa hums, “No, not today. Ma’s busy with something new and I’ve always wanted to try the smoothie store downstairs so.” Then his eyes shine, “Speaking of Ma, she used to grow trees with fruits that tasted just like this.”

Alan’s noticed something that he can trust to happen at least once when talking with Gaipa, he’s bound to bring up his Ma in conversation. It’s predictable, a comfort. Alan means it this time. Because with this, he knows how to respond. It’s easy conversing with Gaipa, like this.

Alan nods, “And I take it it’s good? Worth the trip?”

Gaipa smiles, “It’s pretty good. And you?”

Alan blinks, “Hm?”

“Not just here for tie shopping?” Gaipa nods his head to the bag, “What’d you get?” He asks.

“Oh,” Alan pauses, a little embarrassed, “it’s a suit.”

“A suit?” Gaipa blinks. His eyes are so wide that the reflection of the retail store’s fluorescents look like stars. It’s shockingly poetic but it’s Friday, Alan can get away with it. What he can’t get away with is hiding the bag from Gaipa’s curiosity.

Alan explains, “To match the tie.”

Gaipa’s eyes widen, understanding dawning, “Oh, oh!” He looks as excited as he is shocked. “Really? No way. I didn’t think you liked the paisley that much.”

Alan shakes his head, “No, I just didn’t have anything to wear it with yet.”

Gaipa looks delighted when he says, “So you bought a suit, just to wear it?”

Alan shrugs, a bit embarrassed, “It had to match.”

He knows it’s strange that he’s so perfectionistic even when it comes to clothes and design but mismatching ties just, bother him. But he’s not going to explain that to Gaipa, that’d just be more fuel to judge him and Alan doesn’t want Gaipa to find something unpleasant about him. Not when Gaipa is so, pleasant. With his round eyes and polo shirts.

Gaipa makes khakis look good, that’s got to be some sort of note on his personality. Gaipa makes oddity attractive, like unpredictability can be a good thing. And because of that Alan wants to impress the guy a little. So no, he’s not going to volunteer material about the quirks that probably made Wen leave him.

“So I’ll get to see it right?”

Alan blinks, “See what?”

“You in the suit.” Gaipa says.

“Maybe,” Alan nods, “eventually.”

Gaipa smiles, “You won’t model it for me right now?”

That’s when Alan realizes they are standing next to a men’s dressing room and he totally could give in and agree to change into it for Gaipa only that, “I’ve left the tie at home.”

“Ah,” Gaipa hums, sounding a bit disappointed.  “Well, there’s always the staircase. I’m sure we’ll run into each other there and I’ll see it.”

Alan nods, polite and agreeable. A complete dichotomy to how he feels.

They chat a bit more before Gaipa leaves, similar to the last time, with an excuse to do some more shopping for the day. It leaves Alan with his mind on Gaipa’s philosophy and it sticks with him so much that he comes home with an extra purchase or two.

He didn’t expect to like it so much though and because of that it almost becomes routine. Alan tries to follow that philosophy every time he enters a store now. He buys a small simple thing that makes him happy. His room feels less empty when he enters it now, filled with the little things he bought.

The closet is similar. Alan unwraps the paisley suit, hanging it up on the far end away from his normal blazers. He hangs the tie on the same hanger then shuts the light off. He wants to sleep early tonight for his run in the morning.

He opens the blanket to his bed, slipping in with satin covered legs. His glasses slip off easy and he leans back as he sets them on his night stand. The sun is going to bed the same time he is, they’ll rise with each other too. It is Alan’s favorite color, the color of the sun falling asleep.

That morning he wakes to moonlight. Odd. It’s summer, 5 is usually orange. But he’s not awake at 5, he is awake at 4 and that, he sighs. He lays back in his bed, legs electrified and heart stammering. He’s dreamt of something but he can’t remember. But it’s the reason he’s awake at 4. His body is on fire, energized and unable to fall back asleep. Alan is restless.

What did he dream, he wonders. 4 is not a reasonable time be up, but he is up. He stares at the ceiling, painted in moonlight. It is blurry, a bit, not much but it is, a bit. He wouldn’t be able to read any letters on the ceiling, and really only his left eye is effected. He has 20 in the right but the left effects the right when it is open. What a shame. So, he wears glasses. Not a big deal.

He sighs. He is awake and it is 4. He cannot remember what it is he dreamt nor why his body feels so restless but, he kicks satin legged feet and rises with a huff. He might as well start early.

He’s down the stairs by 5, too early. He’s out the building before the sun, it’s way too early. The park is nearly empty this early in the morning. The sun has just begun to bloom into the sky, bringing with it that orange light that makes the grass look urban.

The benches are quiet and the sidewalk clear. There is nothing but his breath and the song that changes each block he takes. There is nothing until there is someone on his side, catching up.

Alan’s breath leaves him. It’s the lapse in the song’s change that has him hear his voice, “Good morning neighbor.” Gaipa.

Alan pauses the start up to a new song and feels his legs grow half hearted, “Good morning.” He breathes.

Gaipa’s smiling, his forehead clear of bangs and his eyes a crescent at sight. “I knew I’d run into you eventually like this.” Gaipa tells him.

“Did you.” Alan can’t look away, but he does. The next block is coming, his song remains paused.

Gaipa hums, both content with the easy pace of a jog, to chat. “I was a bit sad the other day when I saw you were coming back from a run that I couldn’t go on.”

Alan’s eyes remain forward, otherwise he’d trip, “Really?” He sounds nonchalant but his chest is pounding.

Gaipa’s grin is in his voice, “Mm!” He hums, “I feel like we rarely have reason to chat with each other outside of the stairwell, and the mall is just coincidence,” Gaipa says, easily carrying a voice and topic on his own.

Alan could listen forever honestly, Gaipa is good company. Alan likes that he’s not left to finding things to talk about, especially when sometimes all he really wants is to talk just for the sake of talking. Conversing with Gaipa like this feels like that, something lazy without real purpose, just to feel good.

Alan’s also glad that somehow, in some way, fate has tied the two together like this. Gaipa fits himself into every moment that Alan’s thought he could, like he was meant to be there.

Alan suddenly wants to tell Mrs. Hong about Gaipa, about his oddities, how he’s become so familiar. Alan wants to find more excuses just to see Gaipa, to talk to him, listen to him and hear more about how, “the ice cream parlor on fifth actually closed down recently, I was just so shocked! On a day when I was so looking forward to ice cream, and it’s gone!”

Alan likes this meaningless conversation. Talking for the sake of being heard.

“Did you go to another that day?” Alan asks, curious.

Gaipa smiles and shakes his head, “I’m particular. I wanted that ice cream from that store but, since it wasn’t there I just went home. A bit dissatisfied.”

Alan hums, “That is particular.”

Gaipa looks over at him, brow raised, “That’s not judgement, is it?”

Alan shakes his head, ignoring his growing smile, “No, not at all. It’s good to be particular sometimes. Less waste when you know what you want.”

Gaipa’s expression turns happy, a little satisfied, “Are you particular?” He asks.

Alan thinks, he looks at the sky as he does, watching the sun come in, “Yes.” He answers, “I am very particular.” He thinks of his perfectionism, “I like being satisfied so,” he shrugs, then looks to Gaipa, he’s already watching him, “It benefits me to be particular.”

Gaipa’s face is stuck between an expression, he looks like he’s thinking about something while looking intensely interested in Alan’s explanation. Then, satisfied, he smiles, “That’s good.” He says, “It’s good to know who you are and what your quirks are.”

Quirks, Alan thinks. He’s never thought to call them that before. “Are flaws quirks?”

“Is being particular a flaw?” Gaipa asks.

Alan watches him, that leftover smile and those eyes that turn to him when looking for his response, looking for him. “No,” he tells those eyes, tells them because they asked, “I don’t think particularity is a flaw.” He doesn’t think oddity is either.

Gaipa smiles, “Particularity just means you know what you want.”

Alan blinks, “Does it?”

Gaipa nods, turning to the sky, “It does. You can afford to be particular because you know exactly what it is you’re looking for. Even if it means being dissatisfied for a moment, you know the satisfaction of getting what you really want, will be worth it.”

“Getting what you really want.” Alan parrots.

What is it he really wants, he wonders. He looks at Gaipa and sees that friendly smile. He is such an odd person, but he’s grown familiar. Alan can’t imagine his life without him. Alan can’t imagine returning to that tiny room of his all alone and not seeing Gaipa anymore.

Alan’s sad when he comes home to no one, but he thinks he’d be sadder if he came home to a hall without Gaipa in it. Particular. If it were anyone else, he doesn’t think he’d feel this way. But because it’s Gaipa, he particularly worries about losing this life because it’s Gaipa.

He turns his head. Having these thoughts on a run is dangerous. He could fall.

The end of the block approaches and the sidewalk that leads to the building is near. Alan checks his watch, he should return soon.

Gaipa notices. “Wanna head back together?” He offers.

Alan, a particular man, agrees. Maybe because it’s Gaipa, particularly because it is Gaipa.

Up those stairs Gaipa talks and chats and Alan listens. He asks questions here and there to prompt more conversation and he delights in the way Gaipa is delighted. It’s up those stairs that they inevitably part. Alan waves goodbye outside his door and Gaipa waves back. It’s only as he goes inside that he hears, “Honey! I’m home!” And that song, that particular song, feels like familiarity.

Work is familiar too. He goes in and he comes out and another day has passed. His shoulders are stiff, he feels a little sore, a little like he wants a treat. He thinks of ice cream but the shop closed down, it’s not a need, he’ll survive.

He heads to his car, clicking the alarm and opening the door. He slides in, feels the rawness of his neck pop the same time he steps on the break to open the engine. He leans back, satisfied like the purr of the AC kicking his chair. His seatbelt clicks lazily as he breathes.

He’s a bit tired today, legs sore from his morning run, chest full from electricity. Work just makes his head hurt but it’ll go away in time to clock in tomorrow. Today, Alan survives. The radio kicks on and Alan drives home, he survives.

On his way up the stairs he finds routine. Gaipa smiles at him.

Alan smiles back, “Off to see your mom?” Alan greets.

Gaipa nods, “Mm! Ma has me helping out more often these days,” he says, he’s carrying his keys in his left hand and wearing a band T Alan’s never seen, “before it was just to catch up but now she’s opening a new business and, well, it’s a lot.” Gaipa looks to the left when he’s thinking what to say, Alan notices, “You don’t think I could get you to feed my cat could you?”

Alan blinks. “Are you not coming home tonight?”

Gaipa shakes his head, “Probably not, I just, it’s just in case I mean, it’s fine if not—“

“I can!” Alan says, a bit nervous at the prospect, “I’d love to help.” He says, honestly.

Gaipa’s cheeks tug into a smile, something satisfied. “Alright,” he nods, “Alright, um, I’ll leave my key with you,” he comes down that last step and walks over to Alan, he’s shorter than him like this. “Here.” he holds out the key and Alan takes it, it’s not too different from his own. “In case I’m not back I can just knock on your door to let me in, yknow, return the favor?” His eyes shine like he’s telling an inside joke and Alan realizes instantly that it’s one between them.

“You,” he says, teeth caught between his lip, he shakes his head, “alright.” He gives in with a smile, “You win.”

Gaipa giggles and steps back. “Thank you Alan.” And then he’s off to see his Ma, going down that stairwell.

Alan continues home, closing his door behind him and dressing down for the evening. It’s cooling off these days, the closer to the end of summer that they get. Alan removes his tie and sets his briefcase away. He wonders what time he should check on the cat.

Alan never knew Gaipa had a cat. This information doesn’t seem so odd, just that Alan couldn’t imagine a pet living in that room and Alan not having heard it at least once before. Must be a quiet cat, he assumes.

He does the dishes and makes a quick dinner while he wonders about the cat. He’ll check on it after dinner, he tells himself. Then he cleans up after dinner and sweeps the floor. He should check on the cat. The sun has fallen.

He looks at the key sitting on the table. It feels a bit, intrusive. Is it alright to enter Gaipa’s space like this? Well, he invited him. It’s only as he’s standing in front of the door that he remembers the partner. What will he say to them? Surely if the partner was there, they could keep an eye on the cat. Maybe they’re not home then.

Alan unlocks the door. When he enters he sees no cat but he sees signs. A cat tree and a scratcher, some beds placed here and there. The place is relatively put together. But, it’s also a bit of a mess. A problem. Alan wants to clean it; he’s a solver.

When he comes inside he looks for the cat, ignoring the papers and the jeans strewn across the couch side. “Kitty!” He calls, coming around the corner. He doesn’t see a cat.

He finds the kitchen before he finds the cat.

Where is this cat?

“Meooow!” Something calls back. Alan turns around. Under the jeans. There’s the cat.

A grey mound of fur props itself up on its paws, stretching onto its belly before yawning so wide it’s teeth catch its own lip. It blinks at him. Alan blinks back.

“Mrau.” Says the cat.

“Hello.” Says Alan.

The cat comes over immediately. Alan, nervous and unsure of its personality, gets on his knee. He can’t remember the last time he’s met a cat before. The cat comes right up to him, sniffing around his pant leg then to his hand. It’s fur is soft as it rubs its head into his palm. Alan is mystified. He’s never wanted a pet more than he has in this moment.

“Hello.” He greets, smile taking his face.

“Mrau.” The cat greets back, enjoying the way its cheeks get scratched by Alan’s hand. It puts its entire weight into Alan’s palm, flopping its body onto his forearm. Alan tries to carry its weight without dropping the poor thing.

He is mystified. He’s never met such a friendly cat. Trust Gaipa to be the owner of such a creature.

The cat purrs. Alan blinks. “Merauu!” Says the cat, trying to crawl its way into Alan’s hand. He takes it as permission to pick up the cat and is surprised to see the cat perfectly fine with this.

The grey mound noses it’s face into his chest, quickly finding a comfortable position, like a baby. Alan stands with the cat in his arms and wonders, “Now what?” He whispers.

Alan looks around the apartment, looking for it’s food bowl. He should feed it. Where is the food anyway? The kitchen?

It’s as he’s looking around, cat in his arms, that he notices a lack of something. There’s only one set of socks tossed in the corner, and the dishes are quite low. Alan can’t find any evidence of someone else living here. Odd. But maybe they’re just more clean than Gaipa is, it’s a possibility.

“Meooowww,” the cat yawns into his chest, looking uncomfortable, so Alan walks over to the couch to set it down. The cats ear’s shake as it stands. It walks over to its food bowl. Right, food.

Alan goes back to the kitchen. He opens a couple cupboards, a drawer. He feels invasive but under the sink is the cat food. “How much do you normally eat?” He asks the grey cat, a plump little thing, sitting patiently next to its bowl.

He measures the span of the bowl with the food, trying not to spill kibble onto the cats head as it dives in. “Should I add water to the kibble? Don’t cats get dehydrated easily?”

The cat doesn’t answer him, too busy shoveling kibble like it’s going out of style. Alan figures water can’t hurt, bringing over a small cup full to pour into the bowl. The cat is unbothered.

It’s when he brings the dish back to the sink that the problem arises. There are dishes in the sink. Alan wants to clean them. He feels such a strong desire that it’s near impossible not to turn on the hot water and fill one side with soapy water.

He only realizes as he’s drying the dishes that this is the invasive part and really, he should’ve just fed the cat and left. But now he’s stuck deciphering the perfect spot for the dishes he’s cleaned. And then he finds the broom. The cat isn’t particularly messy but it’s not clean either.

He sweeps up the kibble, then the cat hair under the coffee table, then as he’s emptying the pan into the trash he figures he may as well do the kitchen too. And after that the trash is full so he takes it out, it’s only polite. When he comes back he recognizes his mistake. He came back.

Alan stands in Gaipa’s apartment and for a moment, he just processes what he’s doing. Why is he still here? The grey cat looks at him from its pile atop the jeans on the couch side. It doesn’t look upset by his presence. The cat is good company Alan decides, as he finds himself giving in and dusting the rest of the apartment.

He’s so lost in the routine of cleaning that he nearly doesn’t hear it, the sound of the door opening, but he hears the song, “Honey I’m—oh!” Gaipa stands in the doorway, “Alan” he smiles, “you’re still here!”

“Yeah,” he breathes, “sorry,” Alan looks to the side, making eye contact with the grey mound, “I um, got distracted by the cat.”

Gaipa shuts the door behind him, “He’s pretty isn’t he?” He says, coming over to the purring mound looking at him excitedly, “I don’t mind, he gets lonely being inside all day.” The grey cat chews on Gaipa’s fingers, pushing its head into his arm.

Alan nods, he figured so. “Thought you weren’t coming back so soon.”

Gaipa nods, picking up the grey cat, “Me too.” He scratches just under the cats chin as he looks around the place, “Ma went to a friends place at the last minute so I got to come back.” He makes eye contact, “Did you do my dishes?” He’s smiling.

Alan feels like he’s about to have a heart attack. “I’m so sorry—“ he starts.

Gaipa laughs at him. A very sudden and explosive little thing. The cat is unbothered, jostled but unbothered; tiny paw clutching Gaipa’s chest. “No please,” Gaipa says, “it’s no trouble for me. I’m sorry I left it such a mess.”

Alan shakes his head, “It’s your apartment, you pay for it so it’s up to you how you want to leave it.”

Gaipa has that smile on that tells Alan he’s about to say something sweet, “You think so?” And it is, the words make his cheeks big and his voice pitches in a way that Alan can’t describe as anything but cute really. He just says it in such a small tone, like he’s never been told he’s allowed to live the way he does before, without judgement.

Gaipa says it while looking around, looking at jeans on his couch and an empty cup Alan forgot to grab sitting on a chair, like it was forgotten by Gaipa too. Then he turns back to Alan. Those smiles are what makes him sweet, Alan thinks. His face is just, Gaipa has a sweet face.

“Thank you for doing my dishes.” Gaipa says, a little nod like a bow.

“I swept the floors too.” Alan says, not really conscious of it but wanting to hear what Gaipa said before. Say it again, something in his mind says, thank me again.

Gaipa looks down like he’s just now noticing, “You’re right, my feet don’t feel so bothered now,” he looks back up, a dimpled smile, “Thank you.” And this is what falling feels like. Alan’s tripped somewhere.

“You’re welcome.” He says and Gaipa invites him for dinner but really, Alan’s overstayed his welcome.

Gaipa’s partner will be home any minute, Alan’s sure. Alan knows from the way Gaipa mistook him for them, the song that’s not meant for him. He has to go back to his apartment, his room, all alone. He has to.

He declines. He’s polite about it but he declines and Gaipa nods, like he understands, still holding his cat. Alan says he’ll see him tomorrow, he doesn’t plan to but he hopes and Gaipa smiles something that tells him he does too, or maybe he’s just being polite. Alan can’t really tell right now. He’s, he’s having a heart attack he thinks.

He finds his way home, in, finds his way in his home and shuts the door and slides down and this is what falling feels like. He’s tripped somewhere, over his front foot and back, he’s landed on his back. He’s grounded. He’s fallen and he’s grounded and he can’t move from this spot.

This is odd, unexpected, unpredictable. This is something he couldn’t have planned for. This is, this is what falling feels like. Fuck. What chaos.

His bangs are long, falling in his face. Alan just wants to be helpful, be of use, to him, for him. He pushes the hair across his face, dragging it behind his ear. He’s suddenly so close. His hand cradles Gaipa’s face, his thumb feeling the shell of his ear; it’s soft. Gaipa is soft. Alan just wants to make him feel good.

He’s suddenly so close. “Gaipa.” He whispers but he can’t hear himself.

Gaipa’s eyes sparkle, wide and dark and he’s so close. His face is soft. Alan’s hand follows the curve of his jaw and he feels it, rough stubble. He follows that feeling, the surprisingly different feeling, the unpredictable plain of his face.

Just above his lip it is rough, but below…his thumb drags that lip, soft and wet. He is suddenly so close. He just wants to feel good. Gaipa kisses him first.

This must be a dream. There is no other explanation for this fanciful feeling, as if touch is slipping through his fingers. He can sort of remember the way Gaipa’s tongue touches his, the way he pulls against him, but in that same thought, it fades. It must be a dream, otherwise Gaipa wouldn’t have him against a wall like this. Alan doesn’t remember there being a wall behind him. It must be a dream, otherwise, Gaipa wouldn’t want him like this.

Regardless, it’s fucking amazing.

Alan wakes to satin pants riding up his thigh. His chest is full of electricity. “What the fuck.”

It was a dream, he realizes. It is 4, the sun is not awake and it is moonlight covering his ceiling. His legs are bare, satin pants bunched uncomfortably around his thighs. This is, cruel.

Being attracted to his neighbor is one thing, finding him cute and sweet and feeling his heart tumble when he thanks him, that’s all, one thing. But this, this is, this is fantasy. And fantasy is cruel. This is against Gaipa’s will. Gaipa can’t consent to Alan’s mind. This is cruel. How dare he? And yet, how dare he,,, Gaipa is a dream, and Alan wants to go back to sleep. Desperately, he wants to return to that dream.

God, can’t it be enough? He must be lonely.

Loneliness can only be true if you are lonely. You feel loneliness from being lonely. Loneliness is a symptom, being alone is the illness. Alan is lonely. He knows this because he knows what it is to not be alone. He had forgotten, for a while, what it was to desire more. To desire more than to just not be alone is like asking for ice cream and not caring where it comes from. Being particular is dreadful because now he knows.

Alan wants ice cream from the shop that closed two days ago, ages ago, long before he even knew it existed, before he’s ever even tried it. Alan is particular, he knows what he wants. Alan is particular, he knows who he is. Alan is lonely, but not anyone will do.

What a shame it is to love. What a shame. This is not what he had had in mind. Not at all.

His heart is restless, his legs buzz with static and he needs a cold shower. He needs to run. Alan does not go back to sleep, he gets up, he eats something small and he puts on his shoes and shorts.

He’s in the park, running off the burn of a dream. Kissing a neighbor in a dream isn’t a crime, wanting to be kissed back isn’t either, but he’s feeling the after effects of emotion and that’s bad. That’s bad. Alan knows how he gets, when he likes something. He’s, particular. He’s needy. He’s controlling.

Gaipa has a partner. Honey, I’m home. Gaipa has a partner, this feeling he feels is cruel.

The universe is worse. “Good morning!”

Alan doesn’t turn, he doesn’t need to, he knows that voice. There is no one in his life but him. It is a universal constant, it is predictable, Gaipa is no longer an oddity.

“Good morning.” Alan greets. Alan hopes it will end. The world, maybe.

Gaipa no longer being an oddity is a good thing. Alan has no reason to be fixated anymore.

“How’d you sleep?” Gaipa asks, making conversation.

Alan is fucked. Gaipa becoming predictable does not make him any less desirable. That’s what makes conversing with Gaipa so comfortable, predictability.

“I slept.” Alan says, as a response.

Gaipa nods, curious but he doesn’t ask. Alan is grateful. Gaipa brings up something else, his Ma. Alan finds his erratic heart slowing, even in a jog, and the lap passes safely. Their walk up the stairs follows the same routine. Gaipa speaks and Alan listens and they part for work. Their routines have become synced. Alan ignores that thought for a shower.

Mrs. Hong comes in that day, an appointment Alan sees that they’ve had scheduled for days now and yet, he’d forgotten.

“You seem spaced out.” She clocks, the moment she sees him. She’s tapping at his desk, playing with his pens and staring into his soul. Alan is just trying to survive.

“ I am.” He surrenders. Submission is how most animals fend off natural predator in the wild.

Mrs. Hong hums, “I see.” It’s working. “And why is this?” Alan forgot, she’s nosy. Submitting won’t win him this battle.

“No reason in particular,” he opens the files she’s brought in today, she’s looking to sell the stall she’s recently bought. “And this?” He looks up with a raised brow.

Mrs. Hong pointedly looks away. “And what?” She leans back in her seat, making eye contact with the clock. It’s nearly lunch time.

“I take it you no longer need validity to be entered into a contest anymore?” He stares at the fidgeting of her left hand.

She huffs, then sighs, “I’m running out of excuses to come see you Alan.” She leans forward, arms catching the desk. She looks like she’s looking to him for help, for another excuse.

Alan smiles, “You don’t have to keep doing this. If you would like to see me just ask for my number like a normal friend.”

Mrs. Hong looks over her shoulder then back, “I can’t do that. My son is nosy. And if he meets you before your date then you might say something awkward and ruin it.”

Alan falls back into his seat, laughing hard and sighing all the while, “Mrs. Hong!”

Mrs. Hong is not having it, this is her new excuse. “I’m telling you! Our relationship has to be confined to this office.”

Alan shakes his head, “You don’t want to be seen with an old man like me?”

“Hush, you make me look like a cougar.” She pouts.

Alan has to bite his cheek to keep from howling, “Mrs. Hong,” he coos, “not a day past 45.”

She glares at him and this time he does howl. “You!” She thrusts her finger accusingly but she’s cracking too. “Gosh, banker’s these days, no better than loan sharks.”

“Do you regret it yet?” Alan asks, holding onto his head with his hand.

“No,” Mrs. Hong says, “not a day past our last appointment.” She sends him laughing again and really, he forgets all about being lonely when Mrs. Hong has an appointment.

He’s short, shorter than him. He fits like this, in his arms, in the space between the door and Alan’s chest. Gaipa has to look up at him and it makes his eyes wide; they sparkle. Alan can’t get enough. This angle makes him want to kiss.

Alan wonders what that feels like, Gaipa’s kiss. In this dream they don’t. Alan doesn’t control what they do, he just feels it and forgets it and wakes with an aching sense of loss. Right now, in this dream, Alan feels Gaipa through his pants. He feels him through his pants.

Alan wonders if sex with Gaipa could be predictable, or if it would be odd. Would it be good? Alan thinks his heart would make it so. He likes Gaipa too much for it to be bad.

This is bad. Thinking of sex with Gaipa in a dream where he can’t even kiss him. That thought has him waking up. It’s a senseless ache of loss and satin pants electrifying his legs. But Alan continues to think. It is 4, he has time.

The sound a kiss makes depends on the kiss. Alan wants to kiss Gaipa breathless. He wants, desperately, to hear the sound they could make. He wants to know how Gaipa responds to a kiss.

Does he smile through it? Does he hum into it, creating electricity, traveling from his chest to his throat. Does he kiss back? Does he hold on, grab tight and close, pull you back to kiss more, to kiss longer. Is he desperate and aching like Alan? Is he a biter?

Alan the solver sits in his bed, alone, and he wonders. He tries to solve it in his head but he’s had so many kisses with Gaipa that he can’t tell. None of them are real, none of them are the answer. Alan figures, he may never know. And that is the one oddity he may never come to terms with.

It’s getting worse, feelings are like an illness, these dreams a symptom. It’s taking over his nights. Mother would be aggrieved. She hated his oddity fixation. This is just another one.

Alan sighs. Thinking of his mother calms his down, sure enough, but thinking of his mother just reminds him of her birthday coming soon. He’ll have to go visit. But it’s 4 in the morning and he has work in a couple hours so he doesn’t bother with that right now. Instead he gets up and makes something warm for breakfast, something comforting. He needs a little comfort right now.

It’s sad, to think about Gaipa. He likes him, a lot. But he can’t have him, Alan knows this. He can’t ask him on a date or hope for more. Gaipa has a partner, Alan doesn’t even know if he’s gay, he just knows he has a partner. Alan has no chance. Alan wasn’t even an option before there was a chance.

It’s sad. He makes eggs and toast and eats them warm at his table. It’s sad. That chair is starkly empty. Alan feels sad. Alan feels a sigh take his shoulders. He sips his water. Disgusting.

He goes to work. There’s really nothing else he can do, he skips running, misses his chance to run into Gaipa at all and heads to work. The radio is mostly commercials on the way through the city and it’s right as he’s parking that Alan’s favorite song comes on. Disappointing, he shuts the engine off anyway.

Walking into the bank he sees business is relatively empty; slow. And that is going to be a bother. Mrs. Hong doesn’t have an appointment today, another bother. When he slides into his chair the notch falls down by one and suddenly the world feels off kilter. Even as he tries to correct it, it doesn’t feel quite right.

Everything is bothering him today. He just can’t quite figure it out or predict what could be next. And then his boss surprises the office with a paid lunch.

Pad Thai is good, warm and made well. Alan is glad to see not everything about today is shit, that is until his throat closes up. The receptionist has an ambulance on the way within the moment he presses the dial on his phone connector.

He doesn’t understand what’s happening but his throat is swelling and he can’t breathe and the EMT who comes rushing in saves him within an inch of what feels like his goddamn life.

Suddenly he can breathe. His face is red and his leg stings. Is that an epi-pen? He just about loses his sight.

The doctor is kind, a young man who’s looking at Alan like he’s handled many patients as confused as he is before, “Peanut allergy?”

Alan’s throat is still sore. He’s been sipping from a water cup since he entered the hospital. The water tastes like dust. But the front desk lady is nice and sends him glances here and there from his seat in the nearly empty waiting room. Luckily Alan didn’t need to get a room just for this consultation.

“Yes,” the doctor says, slowly, “have you never gotten it checked before?” He’s holding a pen and a pad and taking notes to sign him out. Alan will be released the same day and prescribed something to keep the reaction down, or he assumes as much at least.

“No,” Alan shakes his head, he’s never had a reaction like this before, “I didn’t think I needed to.”

“Well,” the doctor clicks his pen, “it’s not terribly dangerous for you but it is unpleasant.” He says with a smile, Alan is perturbed, “I’d recommend avoiding peanuts for the foreseeable future.”

Alan looks away with rolled eyes and a sigh. Fuck his life and unpredictability.

Gaipa appears through the sliding doors of the hospital. Fuck his life, he thinks a bit wistfully.

The doctor, seeing Gaipa’s approach, takes his leave quietly.

“What are you doing here?” Alan questions the moment Gaipa enters hearing distance.

His hair looks a bit ruffled today. “I speak with our neighbors.” He says, in his defense, like it explains anything.

He’s an oddity. Alan desires him all the same.

Alan doesn’t care to question that further, he’s just happy to see him; oddly enough. “Want to go get ice cream?” Alan asks.

Gaipa smiles. “There’s a new shop a couple minutes from here.”

Alan is so particular.

The water at the ice cream parlor is surprisingly good. Their tables are nice too. Alan takes a spoonful of ice cream, shoving it into his mouth at the direct moment Gaipa chooses to speak.

“So, what sent you to the hospital?” Gaipa asks.

Alan swallows his bite, “You don’t know?”

“The neighbors just said you went to the hospital,” Gaipa twirls his spoon, “had an ambulance and everything.”

“It was dramatic.” Alan says.

“What happened?” Gaipa asks.

“Apparently I have a peanut allergy.”

Gaipa suddenly stops. He looks at the ice cream Alan is holding, “That doesn’t…”

Alan shakes his head, holding back his laugh, “No,” he says, “Why would I buy something with peanuts in it right after getting diagnosed with an allergy?”

Gaipa releases a breath, “I don’t know man, you tell me. Just don’t freak me out like that.”

Alan nods, “Ha ha.”

Gaipa looks to him, a funny expression , then he laughs, “Don’t sarcasm me.”

“Don’t underestimate me.” Alan challenges.

“If anything I’m overestimating you,” Gaipa says, a grin crowning, “Mr. Peanut Allergy.”

“Oh come on,” Alan chides, “picking on a man for his allergies is just low. There’s tons of other things you can pick on me for.”

“Oh?” Gaipa looks around, “like what?” He asks, seeming genuinely curious.

Alan stares, a moment, then, “I have many quirks.” He says.

Gaipa smiles, “Tell me.”

Alan hesitates, he thinks of Wen, but he also thinks of particularity. Gaipa asked after all, he should tell him, “I’m cruel.”

Gaipa hums, “Are you.” Not a question just an expression. “What else?” He smiles.

Alan thinks, “I’m over-prepared.”

Gaipa laughs a grin at that, “That I can see, you seem the type.”

“I don’t like surprises.” Alan admits.

Gaipa nods, “Does it depend on the surprise?”

Alan stops, “It,” he thinks, “might.”

Gaipa smiles, “So you do like surprises. You just don’t like the anticipation of a surprise.”

“Maybe,” Alan doesn’t really know what that means, but it might be true. “I’m needy too.”

Gaipa blinks. “Are you.”

Alan nods, “I am.”

“It’s true.” A man’s voice cuts in.

Alan’s neck snaps up so fast he’s seeing red when he sees him.

“Excuse me?” Gaipa asks the man interrupting their conversation.

“You.”

“Alan.” Wen.

“Alan?” Gaipa. Alan turns to Gaipa. Gaipa turns to Wen. “Oh,” it’s quiet, but profound. Gaipa recognizes who he is. “Oh.”

“What are you doing here?” Alan asks, calmly.

Wen looks down at him, hands in his pockets. “Getting ice cream.” He says.

“And you think you’re welcome to walk up to me?” Alan questions. Gaipa is here, he won’t cause a scene.

Wen’s brow twitches. “It didn’t feel right to just ignore you.”

Alan has words, Alan has so, many, words to say to that. He doesn’t say them, he won’t cause a scene. He sighs instead. “You can see I have company, can’t you?”

Wen looks to Gaipa, Gaipa looks back, visibly uncomfortable. He looks to Alan next then, when Wen speaks, those eyes of his turn to another voice. “I have company too.” Wen says, as if a grand reveal is being made and then a hand slips into his.

Alan really is seeing red.

The man is tall. He’s carrying his purchase, an alibi, they really were here just for ice cream. But he’s looking down at them and holding Wen’s hand and for a moment, Alan recognizes something on that hand. “You gave him your promise ring?” It’s quiet, merely an observation, but Wen hears it.

“Alan…” like he’s calming a storm.

Alan stands. He wasn’t going to make a scene but, “You gave him the promise ring I gave you?”

Wen sighs, fast and harsh, “it’s not like that—“

“Oh fuck off!” Alan’s words spit like a growl. He has no patience left for this bullshit spinwheel of a day. “How much more predictable does life need to be just to know the next bullshit to come is gonna be shit.”

“I can see I’ve upset you.” Wen proceeds.

“You piss me off.” Alan tells him, “Close your mouth.”

“Alan I—“

“It’s all shit, close it.” No more, not one more thing.

“Alan.” Wen has that face on, there’s more and he’s lying and he’s trying to pretend to be nice and, he came back to their apartment for his ring? To give his new boy Alan’s ring? Alan should’ve known, he should’ve expected this when he saw the bruises that one night, the hickeys, “I didn’t mean to tell you this way.” Wen tells him.

“What that you were fucking him while you were being fucked by me?” The shop goes silent; dead. Alan could only wish. He’s causing a scene. Gaipa is listening, that is the only thing that brings Alan back to the ground. “No more bullshit today,” he is grounded, he is also done, “please.” He’s not begging Wen, he’s begging life.

He walks off without politeness. Screw it all anyway.

Gaipa finds him outside, on a bench. Alan couldn’t leave him there, it’s the only reason he stayed. He already feels like an asshole for leaving him inside but it felt like he was having another reaction and, now Alan is just reaching for excuses. How cruel can he be?

Gaipa walks over slowly, taking the empty spot next to Alan. He seems hesitant, unsure of what to say maybe. He nods to himself then speaks, “Your ex’s new boyfriend was my ex crush.” Alan just about bites his tongue.

“What?” Alan’s head whips around, stunned. What a small word. Incredulous, he’s incredulous really even though he’s laughing. “God don’t lie to me, are you serious?” He asks through teeth.

Gaipa nods, unsure if he should be smiling back.

Alan let’s out a breath, falling back against that bench. “That’s, odd.” He shakes his head, face pulling back into that smile he’d dropped, “So odd.” Yeah, his life is one unpredictable spinwheel.

Gaipa laughs at that, nodding along. He smiles something that tells Alan he can only imagine. And at the very least, Alan figures, life has given him this; his neighbor from room 100.

“I think we need more than ice cream this time.” Alan sighs, he turns, looking over at Gaipa, “How about a drink?” That answering smile is just the sweetest thing Alan’s ever witnessed.

“Of course.” Gaipa grins.

Alan doesn’t know many bars, but Gaipa seems to. “I drank a lot back then, during my, pining.” He says.

Alan listens to him speak about it, Alan hadn’t known he was gay. This doesn’t feel too odd.

“It sounds like you really liked him.” Alan murmurs, sipping slowly from a small glass. He doesn’t want to be drunk, he just wants an excuse to not speak so much.

Gaipa nods, a wry smile taking him, “I did, but life goes on.” He takes a much larger drink.

Alan wonders if this is the part where he asks about Gaipa’s partner, finds out about their love story and how Gaipa comes home to them each day. But, Alan’s not selfless enough to do that. Not quite yet. He’s not prepared for the feeling that will bring. So he basks in the predictable routine of Gaipa bringing up his mother.

Alan watches his smile go lazy and drunk and this time it’s Alan who has to bring Gaipa home. Alan’s not too much better himself, but he doesn’t need the support of Gaipa’s arm as much as he’s using it.

“Which room, Alan ask me which room.” Gaipa giggles, hitting his shoulder over and over excitedly.

“Mm, which room Khun Gai’a.”

Gaipa’s brow furrows, a bit uncoordinated, “Gaipa.” He says.

Alan nods, smiling, “Gai’a.”

Gaipa tuts, turning back to the hall and pointing downward. In his best Alan impression he goes, “Room 101!” And promptly falls into Alan’s side.

“Oi, don’t fall like that!” Alan rushes to stand him up.

“Don’t fall like what?” Gaipa questions, lazy eyes looking upward, chin caught on Alan’s chest. There’s stars in this hallway. “Don’t fall like what Alan?” Gaipa repeats, almost like it’s meaningful. “Don’t fall?” He asks, “Why not?” He’s pouting, “Why can’t I?” He’s whining. Alan worries he may cry. Alan worries he may want him too.

With that thought he turns away. This is out of hand. This is cruel. “Let’s get you home.” He tells Gaipa while scolding himself.

Gaipa is less easy to plead with. “No.” He says, “I want you to tell me why not to fall.”

Alan doesn’t have the mind to make sense of his drunkenness, “Gaipa, if you fall you’ll hurt yourself.”

Gaipa stops. His stare is so intense, and yet equally sad. He sighs, “I know.” He admits, “I know I will.”

Alan doesn’t want him to look this way. “Don’t worry,” he tells him, “I’m here to catch you.”

That expression vanishes. In its stead, a smile, and Gaipa is placated. He leans onto Alan for support and they make it to his door.

“I’ve got you,” Alan tells him every couple steps and Gaipa hums, “You’ve got me.”

It’s right as they’ve reached his door that Alan thinks of it; the partner.

He stops, Gaipa’s nodding head lolling against his shoulder; his body is warm. Alan hesitates. Surely, this will cause a problem. Alan has experienced nothing but trouble today, there will be another problem.

“Alan?” Gaipa’s voice is sleepy sounding, his eyes are closed and he turns his nose into Alan’s shoulder. He’s short. “Are we home yet?”

Alan takes a breath, “We’re here.” Then he knocks on the door. He doesn’t have the key, and he doesn’t assume Gaipa is sober enough to find it but surely, the partner will answer.

Alan lifts his hand, delivering a sharp knock, once, twice. He stands there with Gaipa half asleep leaning into his body, and he waits. The sound of the hallway lights flickering passes and then, the door handle turns.

The creak of the door matches the sound of a man’s voice, “Oh,” he says, upon seeing Alan standing then he looks to Gaipa, “Oh!” He turns back to Alan, “Hello,” he greets, a polite smile, then he angles to grab hold of Gaipa.

Alan has half the sense to pull him back, but he doesn’t, he delivers him to the partners chest; a man.

“Thanks for getting him here safely!” The partner says. It’s loud and startles Gaipa.

“Are we home yet?” He asks, looking up at his partner and, “Oh!” He blinks, “You,” he seems to sink into the man’s arms, comfortable.

The man smiles, “Yes me. Bed time.” Then he turns back to Alan, “Again, thank you!”

“Oh, yes,” Alan mumbles, “Of course.”

“Sorry for the trouble!”

“No trouble.” The door closes. “No trouble at all.” There is no problem, not really, but Alan feels as if he’s experienced no less than devastation.

He shuts the door on it all, literally as much as it is figurative. Alan doesn’t need one more odd thing in his life. He’s had it with oddity. It’s unpredictable. He just wants sudden change to stop.

The partner is not an oddity, Alan has been aware of this since the night they met, since he first heard it, “Honey, I’m home!” This is not an oddity. It is just, devastating.

Alan is devastated. He is left sitting at that table across from that chair and he has no thoughts left to think about. He should plan for his next day. It’s the weekend. It’s nearly the end of July, almost august. Mother’s birthday is, shit. This Sunday, already?

Alan can’t believe how lost he’s been in his head. So lost to forget a plan he’s made in advance. So lost to forget about mother. He didn’t forget her, he defends. He sounds petulant, even to himself.

So he goes. He goes that Sunday and he visits mother.

The stone steps are the same each time, familiar. Alan knows the exact number it takes to reach her. He’s counted before, once, then again just to be sure.

Number 12, number 36, number 48.

It’s at the end, number 101. A coincidence? Alan doesn’t know. He just knows he’s late.

“I’m sorry Mother.” It’s 2:32pm, he’s two minutes late. She’d be aggrieved. “I know,” he sighs, “this is unexpected of me. I’m not being very characteristic lately.” He says, thinking of the man next door who lives a perfectly good life with a perfectly good partner and despite it all, Alan wants to mess it up. Cruel. He wants to be with him. So cruel.

His mother’s grave doesn’t say a word to him, dead silent. It’s not even a funny thought, nor is it a bleak moment, it’s just a grave in a cemetery and Alan is just a boy, who forgot to order flowers in advance.

“I know you don’t like these ones.” He bends down anyway, placing the azaleas on the rim of her stone. It’s not the fact that they’re azaleas but the fact that they’re white. Mother hated the color white. “I know, it gets dirty too easily. You can’t get stains out of white.”

The wind sounds like it says something to him, but Alan knows it doesn’t. Mother never had any interesting nor cute monikers for him. Just a nod or a look and Alan would nod and look back. That was mother. Mother was quiet. Mother was rarely angry, but always annoyed. Something was always a bother. Alan thinks he gets it now. Alan also thinks he gets his loud from being her son.

He’s quiet, in the bank, but in life, in anger and annoyance, Alan gets loud. He can’t hold himself back the way mother did.

“Wish I could.” He tells her. The stone doesn’t say a thing back. Neither would she. “Alright.” And with that he stands and leaves. That’s the end of his weekend.

Early Monday morning Alan’s heading into work. First he’s heading down those stairs to get to his car but before that he’d been on his run, a silent run because he’d forgotten the headphones to the mini radio thing. But now he’s on the stairs because before when he was on his silent run he’d taken one look at the park and skipped it altogether, leading him back to his apartment a bit late and now he’s on the stairs heading to his car to head work. His head is a mess. He can’t afford to be late because of it.

Only thing is there’s Gaipa. “Good morning!”

“Good morning.” Alan greets. He must sound distant, or he must look it.

Gaipa continues to smile at him. The moment Alan steps foot on that landing, the moment Gaipa is shorter than him, he looks as if he has something to say. But Alan can’t hear it. He has work today and has had a silent run, he will not be late.

He has no room for oddity right now.

Alan continues on to the stairs below and does not look back to see how Gaipa thinks of that.

“Heard you were late again.” Mrs. Hong stares at him with crossed arms.

“Heard you want to buy another stall.” Alan continues to rearrange his new pack of pens he bought on the way to work this morning.

“Stocks actually, more of them to use,” Mrs. Hong leans forward like she’s discovered something, “if I buy a new one each time then—“

“You’ll turn up broke.” Alan informs.

Mrs. Hong is unfettered, “I can sell them.” She says, a solution.

“So,” Alan puts the pens down, neat and ordered, “we’re taking up gambling today?” Not odd in the slightest. “I hope you’re prepared.” Alan is, he’s created a spreadsheet for this occasion. It was only a matter of time that Mrs. Hong came in with this idea. “Shall we get started?”

She looks considerably less amused, but business is business and it goes on nonetheless. It is successful, eventually.

By the time the day is counted for and done, Alan is on those steps again. He’s counting the days in his head, if he calculates his next paycheck properly then he can pay his gas and electric in the same day. And that gives him the allowance to not have to cook next Sunday, he could order out, or dine out even. He could go to a restaurant, or see a museum. He just needs to be out of room 101.

He’s on those stairs, heading up, formulating the day and the next, and then he’s looking at Gaipa.

“Good evening.” Gaipa smiles, something sweet. He doesn’t have his usual excited buzz, but he doesn’t look any less happy to see Alan.

Alan looks up, he’s on the landing alone this time, looking up at the stair he was about to take. It’s occupied.

“Good evening.” Alan says, neck stretched.

“How was work?” Gaipa comes down that step.

Alan’s neck relaxes, “Business as usual.”

Gaipa smiles so sweetly, so calmly, as if all his excitement has been stolen, “Sounds eventful.”

“Predictable actually.” Alan wants to ask where his energy has gone. Why do you look so tired?

Gaipa looks as if he’s expecting something, maybe a word to continue the conversation but, Alan has plans. “I’ll see you later then.”

He feels Gaipa watch him disappear up those steps but he doesn’t turn to see him go down the stairwell. Business, as usual.

Alan is falling into a bad habit. No, Alan has already formed this bad habit it’s just turning up at the most inopportune time.

Alan is over-prepared. He has prepaid all of his utilities, he has done the dishes to the point where he is scared to start dinner because he has just cleaned those dishes too. There is nothing left to do. Alan had plans that couldn’t be avoided but, he’s gotten to them too fast and now he realizes he could’ve had that conversation.

Alan would’ve been much happier had he had that conversation with Gaipa. He wants to ask him, why are you tired? Did you get to bed safely? What is your partner’s name?

But Alan fell into his bad habit. He had plans. Plans to sit around his apartment and think all about how he’s scheduled a reservation for dinner at a restaurant that he doesn’t even really like. He just needed something to do. He is over-prepared. And now he is done. And now he is regretful.

How cruel. How predictable. Alan misses the oddity.

It’s a shame, that you only miss what you start to lose; another bad habit. Alan is tired of collecting habits. This is why he developed the oddity complex in the first place, in order to get rid of the staleness habit causes in his life. But Alan has also broken due to oddity.

Too much in great doses is suffocating. Alan is tired of being breathless. He is just looking for a little comfort. But routine isn’t doing that for him. Reverting to his basics and becoming mother isn’t helping in the slightest. He misses the oddity. He’s tired of being stale.

To get rid of that feeling, Alan says fuck it and does something odd.

Closing his apartment door behind him he doesn’t bother with the lock. There’s nothing to steal that Alan would bother over, and it’s better than getting locked out at—he checks his watch—nearly 7pm.

Usually he’d be getting ready for bed by now. Instead, he leaves that room.

The hallway is empty, quiet, Alan follows it to the stairwell. He’s halfway down when he starts looking for his headphones. He’s just outside the building when he realizes there’s nothing to connect it to. He forgot the damn iPod. God, how predictable, it seems his life falls apart without oddity. 

Alan, rather than be frustrated, takes it with a sigh and starts for the park. It’s orange, the sky, like it is late in the morning when he’s just finished. Alan’s never taken up evening jogging before but the air feels different. It feels charged and there’s a dog being walked that wags it’s tail at him. Alan doesn’t plan to stop but upon closer look he thinks he wants to.

He ends up petting the dog. The owner calls him by a funny name and introduces him like it’s normal. Alan acts like it is and pets behind the dogs floppy ear. Once he’s done he returns to his jog. His routine is interrupted but life continues. 

He likes evening jogging he decides upon coming home. He’d fallen asleep quickly that night. A little oddity worked. He tries something new the next night.

It’s quiet and the air is crisp. His lungs are heavy but he feels like he can breathe. It beats sitting in his bed all night at nearly—he checks his watch—midnight. His breath comes but it’s too dark to see. The street lamps light his path through the empty park. 

It’s quiet, he left his iPod at home, he wishes he could say it was on purpose this time. But Alan, a fool to routine, had already made a new habit, and that habit seemed to be forgetting the poor thing behind. He’s only a little bothered, he doesn’t know what he’d listen to anyway.

It’s quiet, even as the sky brightens. Alan figures returning for the day, put an end to this oddity, but he should’ve realized something. Scheduled oddity is no longer oddity, it is just a break from normality. There is only one thing that can truly grab Alan’s attention like no other.

You can not run to oddity, oddity comes to you. Gaipa. The man is jogging on the opposite side of the walk, headphones in and neck bobbing along to sound. He looks up, he notices him. Alan does not realize how much he’s missed Gaipa til he sees that smile.

Honey, I’m home.

Alan doesn’t have to pause his music when Gaipa comes up on his side, maybe forgetting his iPod was a good thing, “You do realize it is late.” Alan asks this terribly energetic man.

“Early,” Gaipa smiles, “it’s just turned 1am.” He doesn’t sound out of breath in the slightest.

Alan laughs a breath, “So you’re aware how odd you are.”

Gaipa nods, “I am,” he ducks his head, a smile tilting his face, “but you’re up too.” He says, those eyes coming up just to stare at him. He feels pinned beneath them.

“I am,” Alan admits, “I did it on purpose.”

Gaipa’s smile widens, “So did I,” he looks excited, then he starts, “I just wanted to thank you for getting me home that night.”

Alan blinks, Gaipa probably doesn’t mean it the way Alan’s taking it. There’s no way Gaipa got up to run just because he heard Alan get up, did he? That would be, odd. Or maybe predictable. At this point Alan doesn’t know when it comes to Gaipa. He can’t form expectations of this man, but he can expect so much from him. That oddity is what Alan’s missed.

What a fucking shame the man’s taken.

“No trouble,” Alan turns his head, unable to look any longer, “no trouble at all.”

Gaipa stares, “Are you okay?”

Alan sighs. He stops, legs tired, heart tired, so tired, “I’m sorry.” He was cruel. “I didn’t mean to be—“

“No,” Gaipa stops him with a smile, “You’re okay, I understand sometimes things happen and we can’t control our expressions. I don’t blame you.”

Alan has never been more in love in his life.

“Really?” He sounds pleading. He sounds sad. He sounds desperate.

Gaipa just smiles, it’s Alan’s favorite expression, “Yes really.” He tells him in front of the waking sun, lit up in Alan’s favorite color. Then he asks, “Want to sit and take a break?” And that’s all Alan wants to do for the next eternity, but he declines.

“I have to keep moving if I want to finish.” He reasons.

Gaipa hums, then nods, “Then I’ll join you,” he smiles, “I probably have to do the same. Better incentive if I join you.”

Alan looks at him, a little visibly pleased, “Is that so?”

Gaipa doesn’t seem to notice, “You keep me accountable.” He tells him, “It’s why I like running with you.”

Alan blinks, “You do?”

Gaipa hums, “I do.” Sunshine is such a pretty face on him. 

Alan hums to himself, turning away to look at the next block ahead. He’d planned to turn home but, he doesn’t stray from the path as they continue up the next bend. He can take another lap.

Gaipa’s breathing next to him is like a metronome, calm, predictable. He will breathe, again and again, Alan can predict that. But he can’t predict when it’ll break for him to speak, Gaipa always speaks in unexpected moments. It is never twice the same. 

Alan is endearingly fixated. 

He listens to Gaipa’s breathing, one in then one out, “I just wanted to ask,” Alan starts, “I know it’s none of my business but, you just, seemed tired the other day—“

“Oh!” Gaipa brightens, head turning to Alan immediately, “Yeah,” he smiles, “don’t worry my Ma just kept me up all night on the phone asking me about ideas for something.” He looks up like he’s trying to remember what it was, “I also had company over so,” he shakes his head to one side, “you know how it is, things get stressful.” He hums.

“Company?” Alan questions.

“Oh that’s right,” Gaipa blinks, “you took me home the day he came over.” The trees seem to wake up with the sun, wind brushing through and sweeping across Gaipa’s flushed face, “I don’t know if you met Leng or not but he’s an old friend who just came into town for his Wife’s birthday.” He explains, he’s got this expression on, calm and happy and Alan deems it his talking face. When Gaipa feels chatty his eyes get calm and his smile grows, “I think she decided to stay with a friend too.” His lips do a thing, another expression to show a mood, “She’s allergic to cats or something,” he shakes his head, “that was the excuse anyway. Personally I think she just needed a reason to go see her friend in the city but,” he suddenly stops himself, turning to Alan, “sorry I’m rambling.” He apologizes, an unsure tilt to his mouth.

“No it’s alright,” Alan’s a bit dazed, zeroed in on observing Gaipa that he really could not care if Gaipa decided to never stop talking, “I don’t mind.” He tells him and it’s the truth. He wants another excuse to keep staring.

Gaipa chirps, “Really?” His teeth catch his lip, a little self conscious, a little beautiful.

“Really,” Alan assured, “I asked.”

“I know,” Gaipa laughs, a bit nervous, “but you didn’t ask for all of it.” He looks like he’s trying to make fun of himself, maybe to distance from his embarrassment. Alan doesn’t find him embarrassing.

“Sometimes I do.” Alan tells him, “Sometimes I ask in hopes you’ll give me the full story,” Alan feels his face tug, a smile, “I like it when you do.”

“Really.” Gaipa watches him, eyes flitting back and forth like he’s thinking of something, “huh.” He says. Alan can’t meet his eyes.

Eventually, a smile dawns and Gaipa goes back to chatting. Alan finds comfort. Oddity is good, a little oddity is all he needed. 

Alan doesn’t think much about what Gaipa was saying in the park til he’s going over it in his head on the way to work. So that wasn’t his partner; odd. Stranger is that Alan doesn’t think he’d mind if it was. He feels calm, in a way that is unusual, he feels content and at peace. As long as he can keep the oddity of his neighbor Gaipa from room 100 in his life, he thinks maybe he’ll be okay.

Maybe it’s best this way, Alan reassures himself with this thought. Since Gaipa has a partner Alan won’t ask him out. Since Gaipa has a partner Alan won’t have any excuse to be cruel and controlling to Gaipa. Alan won’t have any effect on Gaipa, not like he did on Wen. Gaipa’s life will continue to run on routine. Alan is not the oddity looking to break that routine for him. It would be cruel.

And he’s content with this for the duration of the ride to work. It gets harder to hold onto in his office. There’s no particular reason, it’s not any less true, it’s just, hard.

Alan has a client today, a woman he’s had a couple appointments with before. There’s nothing particular about today, she’s as talkative as she is usually which is less than Mrs. Hong.

She doesn’t say anything odd, she’s just been making small talk, “You really should check out that museum next to the old telephone company Khun Alan,” she says, putting her phone away from the photos she’s just shown him of the museum, “my cousin just went the other day.”

“Thank you,” Alan smiles, something professional, “I’ll look into it.” He says with half a mind. Suddenly he stops, “Actually, do you know of any restaurants in the area?” He has a reservation on a Saturday, it’s good to be prepared if it falls through.

“Oh yes actually, I heard there’s an old vineyard inspired outdoor dining just over behind the mall strip. You should check it out too.”

“I see, thank you,” he smiles, “I’ll look into that too.”

There is nothing odd about the ride home, nor the walk up the stairs. Alan sees him, Gaipa, as he does everyday. Predictable. It puts a smile on his face. He expects him every time he sees these stairs.

“Off to see your Ma?” Alan greets, feeling a sense of deja vu.

Gaipa smiles, “I am. I’ll tell her you said hi!”

Alan blinks, “You tell her about me?”

Gaipa’s expression flickers then, “Oh, uh, I guess?” He seems to flee once he reaches around Alan, using his chance at a quick escape, “See you later!” And then he’s gone.

Odd. Not predictable at all. Life continues.

He turns the knob to his apartment, feeling the crisp air and shut door behind him. He sighs, no particular desire to do so he’s just, a bit breathless. He releases his tie from his neck, easy, and tosses it across the arm of the couch.

Alan looks at the bowl and towel on the drying rack in the kitchen. Ultimately, he decides to put it off for later. Instead he checks out those places his client mentioned.

Time passes as he goes through page after page. Some websites are dead ends, others are just articles on the places. News and media, local, social; Alan continues. He finds the location, checks the time and distance. He finds a Facebook that links to the museum’s personal collection, an auction for the art exhibit; interesting.

He finds photos on the restaurant nearby too. It’s pretty. He saves the location for later—for in case. Time passes this way til it’s dark and Alan’s neck is stiff. He should get to those dishes.

“Oh,” he thinks suddenly, voice coming quiet in the small apartment, “I should get the mail today.”

With that decision he stands. He grabs his keys off the wall, slips into his shoes and heads for the hallway. He wonders if Gaipa’s returned home yet, it’s gotten late.

Down the stairwell Alan continues, all the way to the end. His foot hits that last landing and, his neck still stiff, pops. He sighs as he comes upon the mail wall—where he recognizes that back instantly.

“Funny running into you here.” Alan greets.

Gaipa turns quick, a surprised face. He relaxes at the sight of Alan, “Is it?” Gaipa smiles, “I only ever get my mail in the evenings,” he turns back to close his box, key in hand, “Ma always said I’m too predictable for my own good.”

“Really?” Alan’s never noticed, odd, “Predictability is good sometimes you know,” He tells the man who has single-handedly destroyed his perception on predictable. “Stability.” He reasons.

Gaipa looks at him, like maybe he’s really seeing something. Then he smiles. “I think you’re right.” He brings up his Ma right after.

He’s predictable. Alan desires him all the same.

They chat on the stairs too, carrying mail side by side. “Get anything good?” Gaipa asks.

“Nothing really, ads mostly.” Alan says, flipping through a jewelry magazine.

“Hm, worse than bills?” Gaipa hums.

Alan laughs, “Nothing is worse than bills. I’ve paid mine already though, easier to do in advance.”

“Oh-ho! What an organized man. How responsible.” Gaipa teases.

Alan smiles, “And? When’s the last time you paid a bill?”

Gaipa goes silent a moment, then, “I’d have to check my calendar.” He turns away, unashamed.

Alan just shakes his head, “You can’t tease me for being prepared—“

Gaipa turns back over, looking down at Alan just a stair below him, “Over-prepared, I distinctly remember you counting that as a flaw.”

Alan raises a brow, lip twitching, “I thought we called them quirks?”

“Quirks, you’re right,” Gaipa seems to lose a response after that. “That’s all.” He says, then turns back around, continuing up those stairs.

Alan doesn’t argue, just follows; moth to flame.

They part at the end of that hallway. “Have a good night!” Gaipa calls.

Alan calls back, “You too.” As he watches him disappear.

That song returns, “Hi Honey! I’m home!” And all of a sudden, Alan isn’t so content anymore.

Fuck. What chaos.

Alan does those dishes. He closes the door behind him entering his apartment, turns on the radio and fills the sink. The room washes warm with light as the canvas of the sun disappears. It is just darkness that allows the orange lamp to paint his kitchen table a pretty hue, but it is beautiful all the same.

Alan likes this color. The color of missing the sun.

The dishes sit, drying on a rack. Alan wipes down the fridge. There is nothing to do on nights like these. Alan cleans his already clean home, apartment, the room. It’s nights like these that he misses loving.

He doesn’t miss just the feeling he misses the presence of it. He misses love in this apartment. Alan misses things to do. He misses the motivation to do it; incentive.

There is nothing left here. Alan sits on the sofa looking at his orange lamp and open window. There is nothing left. His wall is empty. The coat rack gathers more dust than anything else. There are no shoes in front of the door. Alan is so, stale.

He showers. He plans to take his time but halfway through realizes there’s nothing to occupy it. He’d rather not waste the water just standing here. He turns the knob.

He towel dries and brushes his hair. He finds his glasses and dresses for bed. His bathroom is small but he doesn’t bump into anyone like he’s used to. The mirror is fogged up. Alan readies for bed.

The sheets are cold. Alan’s back is quickly warming, body slowly sinking. His pillow is hot against his neck. He is only half satisfied, the sheets are cold.

Alan sighs, a deep breath that pushes his stomach to his toes. He is tired but his eyes don’t close. His lashes aren’t sticky nor do his eyes burn, he is just so, heavy.

Sleep will come, he reassures. He does not know when but sleep will come. Alan is not a patient man but if he lies to himself, it may become true. This is not even a lie, Alan knows he will sleep tonight. As he will rise in the morning to run, as he will run into Gaipa and start his car and enter his office. Alan expects these things. He just doesn’t know when they will all come.

Sometimes, Gaipa meets him on his run, or like tonight at the mailbox, Alan can expect to meet Gaipa in any of the instances that include this building and his apartment. Alan can even expect Gaipa outside of it, like at the mall or the hospital.

No, that’s not true, none of those are expectations. Those are all instances in which Alan has run into Gaipa out of coincidence or fate. Alan can’t predict them to happen again. All except, for the stairs. Alan can expect to meet Gaipa on the stairs. Their schedules are in sync.

Alan will sleep tonight and he will run in the morning and life will go on. Alan will sleep, he knows, he just doesn’t know when. Alan will meet Gaipa again, it just won’t be tonight. Alan does not know when, that is not something he can predict. Gaipa’s appearance is not something Alan can control. How cruel.

If it was, Alan would turn and have the expectation of Gaipa. He’d be right there, in his bed. Gaipa would turn to him with a smile, a soft affectionate thing, and Alan would grab hold of his hand and pull him close. Gaipa, the Gaipa controlled by Alan’s desire, would push himself into Alan’s arms.

Gaipa would kiss him, Alan thinks. Gaipa would like to and it’d be nice. Neither of them would be able to sleep, Alan knows this because he cannot. He is tired and heavy but he cannot sleep and in this dream of his where Gaipa’s desire is his own, well, Alan doesn’t think they’d end up sleeping at all.

Alan throws himself onto his front, stuffing a pillow into his face and exhausting his voice. God. He cannot allow that to happen again. Gaipa does not deserve to be thought of that way. How cruel. Alan is heavy. Alan cannot breathe. Sometimes, he prefers it that way.

That’s how sleep finds him, stomach devoured by cold sheets and face warmed by acrid burning hot; sufferer is he. He sleeps.

Running is also hot, acrid and burning, sufferer is he. The sun rises early these days. Despite that there’s wind, a lot. Alan doesn’t mind these conditions for a run but it makes it hard to speak through.

“I never thought he’d do that though!” Gaipa tells him, voice being threatened to muteness by the wind. “My cat has always been very good, usually.” He smiles funny as if remembering something.

“Maybe he was bored.” Alan offers. The run is almost over, he can see the block just up ahead. Good, he’s suffering.

Gaipa hums, “Maybe, maybe I should find him a friend.”

Alan shakes his head, “He probably just misses you.”

Gaipa looks at him, then looks away, “Maybe you’re right.” He doesn’t say much else, most likely thinking of a solution to keep his cat from eating carpet again.

Alan thinks about work. He’s lying to himself but he nearly succeeds. Now he’s thinking about work. And now he’s thinking about what he was actually thinking about which is Gaipa and now he’s trying very hard not to think about Gaipa. How cruel.

The block ends immediately. What suffering.

Alan assumes that’ll be the end of seeing Gaipa for the morning but he runs into him on the stairs going down. “Where are you off to now?” Alan asks as Gaipa comes down on his side.

“I think I’m gonna get her some treats.” Gaipa says, taking step by step, in sync with Alan. “And you?”

“Work.” Alan shrugs, nothing more to say.

Gaipa smiles, they’re at that last step, “Have fun at work today!” Gaipa tells him, he wishes him well and Alan nods.

Alan nods and hopes this one isn’t a lie.

Work turns out to be enjoyable. Mrs. Hong comes in today and doesn’t even bother to schedule anything.

“It’s my lunch break.” Alan tells the woman who’s just slammed his door shut. She looks a bit apologetic about that, a wince taking her face before she quickly recovers and excitedly steals his chair. Alan continues chewing. “It’s my lunch break.” He tells her.

Mrs. Hong is unperturbed, “You are so lucky I came to visit today.”

“Yeah?” Alan hums, “and why?”

“Well, let me start.” She starts a stare but doesn’t finish.

Alan looks at her, waiting, “Floor is yours.”

Mrs. Hong continues to stare, then, “Alright,” she takes a deep breath, “you have a date.”

Alan chokes. “What!” He grabs the water cup by his pen holder, nearly spilling it over his shirt. Mrs. Hong winces. Alan swallows, properly breathes and clears his throat. Again, in a smaller voice, “What?” He asks.

“All I said was you have a date.” Mrs. Hong looks a bit like she thinks he’s being dramatic.

Alan shakes his head, unsure where to start first, “When?” He asks.

Mrs. Hong smiles, “When are you free?”

“For a date?” Alan raises a brow, “No time soon.”

Mrs. Hong rolls her eyes. “Saturday.”

“I have a reservation Saturday.” He tells her.

“Great!” She claps, “Turn that table from ‘for one’ to ‘for two!’”

“No,” Alan declines, “I won’t.”

Mrs. Hong pouts, “Why not,” She asks, “don’t you want to meet my son?”

“On a date?” Alan sighs, “I’m sorry Mrs. Hong, that’s,” Cruel, “inappropriate.”

Mrs. Hong rolls her eyes again, looking putout with a sigh.

“Unprofessional.” Alan argues.

Mrs. Hong stares, mouth unwavering.

“Do you want me to get fired for fraternizing with clients?”

Mrs. Hong laughs at that, “That’s different! It’s only fraternizing if it were you and me, this is my son! He doesn’t count—“

“He totally counts.” Alan argues, “He’s on my book! After you comes him and then—“

“He can transfer.” Says Mrs. Hong.

Alan blinks, “You chose me in hopes I’d get along with your son, so I’d make him comfortable in this office.”

Mrs. Hong nods, “I did.”

“And you’re willing to throw that away, for a date?”

“For you to be in my son’s life.”

“Why?” Alan asks, “What if we don’t work out, what if he doesn’t even like me?”

“Khun Alan,” She looks placating.

Alan raises a hand. “Tell me why first.”

Mrs. Hong sighs, then, “I’m worried about his crush.” Alan waits. Mrs. Hong hesitates, but eventually, “I haven’t met him, my son’s crush, and all I know is he doesn’t seem very responsive.”

“Responsive?”

“Well My son’s been pursuing him this long and they haven’t gone out yet.” She reasons.

“Is this all speculation?” Alan asks.

“Of course!” Mrs. Hong bursts, “I haven’t met him yet but my son tells me every detail when we go out together and really, I could probably guess the man’s bank info.”

Alan shakes his head, “Illegal.”

“But I could.” Mrs. Hong says, “And I don’t know, maybe I’m worried too.” She admits.  “With his last crush I knew the guy, he was a family friend! You know? Safe! But I don’t know this man at all and I’m worried that my son is gonna get his heart broken or worse, stay single!”

Alan’s mouth flattens, a bit sad to say but, “I can’t date your son for a reason like that.”

“Just a date,” she pleads, “show him what a date really feels like.” She explains, “Show him what it’s like for a man to really appreciate him.”

“I can see your good intentions but Mrs. Hong—“

“Aunty.”

“Aunty.” Alan tries as reasonable as he can, “I can’t, in good conscience, agree to this.” He reasons, “He doesn’t even know me.”

“Blind dates are totally common these days.” Mrs. Hong says.

“Aunty,” Alan sighs, holding her eye and expressing his sincerity as much as possible, “I can’t.”

Mrs. Hong watches him then, seeing no falter, sighs. “Alright.” She gives in. “I understand. I’m just, worried about him.”

“I see that.” Alan tells her, “and I think it’s admirable how much you care for him. But I also think it’s a part of life to get heart broken.” He tells her, “It’ll heal.”

Mrs. Hong looks up, “Will it?” She asks, holding his eye.

Alan gulps, ignoring the picture in his drawer, “It will.” He lies.

Mrs. Hong is placated for the day. She leaves at the end of his break. Alan continues with his last client and after that’s over he packs up to go home. He drives the city roads down the block, passed the mall, passed the art exhibit. Alan turns around.

He hasn’t perused the mall lately, he reasons, as he finds himself down these familiar isles. They have a new blazer set on display. Alan peruses. He has time, he figures, so he uses it.

He doesn’t buy anything in the end, except for a small keychain that he thought was a bit eye catching. He puts it on his windshield lever.

It must be because of that trip to the mall that he misses Gaipa on the staircase. Or Alan had thought so until, “Alan!” Gaipa calls.

Alan looks over his shoulder, then down the stairwell. “Gaipa, hello.” Alan greets, “You’re coming in late.”

Gaipa’s teeth show, “I’m sure you can guess who’s at fault for that.”

Alan smiles, “Your mother?”

Gaipa smiles back, “You know me so well. How was work?” Gaipa asks.

Alan hums, “Well,” he sighs, “My client just tried setting me up on a date.” He says, as easygoing as he can sound.

Gaipa blanches, “Oh.” He looks stunned. “Really,” he breathes, “that’s, odd.”

Alan shakes his head, “Couldn’t agree more.” He smiles, “Odd.” His life has become so.

“Well,” Gaipa comes up those stairs, following by his side, “Did you accept?”

Alan shakes his head, “It’s against my companies policy, plus I’ve never met him and my client hasn’t even arranged it on his side either so.”

Gaipa hums, “Sounds complicated.”

“It would be,” Alan agrees, “But I’m a homebody anyway so it’s not like I had any other excuses.”

“You were running out of excuses?” Gaipa smiles, looking curious.

Alan smiles back, “How else am I supposed to gently let down one of my most thorough clients when she asks me to date her son?”

“I don’t know, taking the date is always an option.”

Alan pauses. That’s right, it is. And Gaipa would always assume Alan has that option. But Alan doesn’t control how he feels. If he did take that date it’d only be cruel. He can’t transfer his feelings for his neighbor onto Mrs. Hong’s son. How he wishes, it may honestly be easier if he could. Alan hums.

Gaipa looks at him, “So,” he changes the topic, “Why’re you back so late?”

“Oh,” Alan blinks, “I stopped by the mall.”

Gaipa looks at him out of the corner of his eye, “That one store with the tie section?”

Alan nods, “Yeah.”

“Anything good?” Gaipa asks.

“Not this season,” Alan tells him, “but I did get a keychain.”

“Oh!” Gaipa grins, “Do you have it? I want to see!”

“It’s in my car,” Alan says, a little disappointed he doesn’t have it to show off, not that’s it anything special really, “I used it as decoration.”

“Oh!” Gaipa smiles, “I see.” His expression says he knows why Alan bought it and that it makes him happy. Alan tries to hide his answering expression in turn. His says something like ‘I love you’ probably.

Alan turns back to look at the next step, one after the other. It takes him home. Gaipa follows behind.

As they reach that hallway, Alan gets this odd sense of foreboding, like he knows what will happen after this. He will go home, close his door to the sound of a song not meant to be heard by him and he, will be in that room. Room 101. Alan will be in that room alone.

Loneliness is, devastating. Alan is terrified to go back to it. Just a bit longer, something inside him screams, pleads, begs, it is horrific and ugly and shaking and he, pauses. Just a little longer, not yet. Loneliness is devastating.

“Hey Gaipa.” Alan speaks suddenly.

Gaipa turns, coming up on his side, “Hm?” He hums.

“What are your plans for the evening?”

Gaipa blinks, “Uh,” his eyes do that thing where they unfocus, he’s thinking, then they shift, to a wall then back to Alan, “nothing special, why?”

Alan’s chest tightens, “Want to get ice cream?”

Gaipa blinks, “Ah-eh?” his head tilts, “Right now?” He asks, looking back at those stairs they just climbed up. Alan nods. Gaipa’s face tugs, a smile. “Yeah!” He grins, “Yes, let’s go!”

Alan smiles, “Alright,” he turns away from that hallway, away from room 101, he turns toward Gaipa, coming up on his side, “Let’s go.” He holds his car keys in his hand, tugging them from his slack’s pocket. “I’ll drive.”

Alan takes the first step on the stairwell and nearly trips.

“This means I get to see your totally impulsive purchase right?” Gaipa’s voice is loud in his ear, right behind him.

Alan turns around, face pulling into the blankest expression he has as he looks up. His ears are on fire. Gaipa looks unaware of what he’s just done, looking down with a smile. Alan decides to blame the stairs.

“If you’re nice about it yes.” Alan says. Gaipa mimes zipping his lips but his smile is too wide. Alan tells him so, “That’s not working for you very well.”

Gaipa giggles, “S’ppose not.” He bounds over the stairs, brushing past Alan and taking two at a time before looking behind himself. He looks up and it makes his eyes wide. “Come on, what are you slow?”

Alan shakes his head, but he can’t shake away that growing smile. He follows Gaipa; moth to flame.

Alan becomes the leader once they enter the garage, easily finding his car among the row.

Gaipa let’s out a low whistle, “So this is what salary money can afford.” He says upon approach Alan’s 2006 that just got a car wash.

Alan clicks the fob, car chirping, the doors unlock. “This is what a good 6 months of saving salary money could afford, upkeep is a different story.” He says, like he’s bragging. He’s not really, because he’s mostly lucky the engine still runs.

Gaipa shakes his head, “I don’t know a thing about car upkeep nor do I want to know how much it costs,” he looks happy just to see a black car with a neat paint job up close, “I’ll go in debt just hearing about it,” he says, looking up from his busy admiration, “but you can tell me more about salary money if you want.”

Alan comes up to his side and opens Gaipa’s door, his smile is hard to control in front of him. “Is this your way of asking about me job?”

Gaipa blinks, looking like he’s trying his hardest to be coy. “What ever gave you that impression.” He smiles. Then he turns his head and slides into the passenger seat. “Weren’t we getting Ice cream? Come on salary man.”

Alan really can’t control his smile in front of him. “Alright, ice cream.” He shuts the car door.

He slides in on the other side. It’s as he turns the engine on, when his hand hits the keychain dangling between the lever under the wheel, that he even remembers it. It feels silly to just, hold up and point out; like a kid excited to show mother his new toy. Well, its something mother would’ve never actually cared to see anyway. But still, silly.

Somehow though Gaipa spots it himself. “Oh that is a worthy purchase.” He says, then he looks up, “Never expected you to be the type to buy a pride keychain but I like it.”

“So you admit you have preconceived perceptions of me?” Alan clicks his seatbelt.

“Don’t you have them of me?” Gaipa’s brow raises, hand grabbing for his own.

Alan looks at him, “I try not to,” he tells Gaipa, “You surprise me too often. I’ve learned to not expect a thing.”

The AC kicks on as the car sits.

Gaipa blinks, “Huh.” He smiles, “You’re not too predictable yourself you know.”

“Really?” Alan asks, putting the car in drive, he turns to look at the garage he’s pulling out of, “Odd, I think I’m pretty typical. Typical things tend to be predictable.” He pulls out slowly.

“Salary man, sure,” Gaipa nods, “but I don’t know what it is you do.” He admits, “And really the only reason I know you’re a salary man is the suit and tie. I guess another unpredictable thing is,” Gaipa hums, looking around as he thinks, “that keychain for sure.” he grins.

Alan raises a brow, “Because I’m gay?”

Gaipa giggles, “I actually wasn’t going to say that, I was going to say you seem the type to be very conscious of his purchasing power but, you bought a keychain. A pretty useless invention. That’s unpredictable of you Alan.”

Alan uses driving as an excuse to look away, “You know it’s your influence,” he’s not pouting, “why act otherwise?”

Gaipa giggles, “Maybe I just wanted to hear it validated.”

“You’re the odd things about me.” Alan admits, a bit quiet. He doesn’t mean it to come out so serious.

“Strange,” Gaipa takes it seriously, “I like that title.” He tells him, sincere, “I’ve never had such worth before.”

Alan looks at him out of the corner of his eye, “Worth?”

“I’m usually just,” Gaipa shrugs, “Gaipa,” He says, he turns to Alan as he admits, “I’m friendly. That’s as far as it goes.” He turns back to look out the front window as he tells him, “I’ve never been someone’s oddity before.”

Alan thinks about it, “The neighbors seem to like you.”

Gaipa smiles, “Yeah, I’m always the boy next door.”

Ah, Alan seems to have hit a sensitive topic. He never thought he’d have a conversation like this with Gaipa but, now he’s curious. “Tell me about it.”

“Hm?” Gaipa’s head shoots over, a curious and cute face on.

“Tell me,” Alan shifts the gear as they turn from the garage into traffic, “what makes you the boy next door?” He asks, switching on his blinker and nodding thanks to the woman who lets him in the line. He turns an eye to Gaipa when he tells him, “I want to know what made you feel that way.” It’s a very roundabout way to ask about Gaipa’s childhood but, Alan never said he was brave.

Gaipa watches him. Alan can’t really turn to read his expression, he’s driving, the line just started moving, but if he were at a red light he might get lost in the sight of Gaipa in his space. Gaipa is in his car right now. It’s like his two world’s colliding. Alan doesn’t know how to feel about that. They’re on their way to ice cream right now. Odd.

Then Gaipa starts talking. And easily Alan has something to listen to on the way to the shop. He never once has to speak up, just hums here and there when he agrees or is surprised or simply wants to be heard and hear Gaipa’s, “right?” In return.

It’s informative and it’s nice and it’s odd because Gaipa has a very odd life. He has a very comforting mind, one that looks for comfort in every moment, a very sweet mind. Gaipa just wants to feel good and Alan can respect that motivation. It makes it a little hard to hear about the parts where the people in his life have devalued that, or worse, devalued him.

Gaipa, from the sounds of it, becomes an easy staple in people’s lives. He becomes a constant, a habit, and he’s friendly. But people overlook him once they get used to him. Alan can’t imagine that. Gaipa is so odd, how can you get used to his oddities? How can you predict or expect Gaipa enough to overlook him? Alan always anticipates Gaipa so he can’t really see what it is Gaipa says he “kinda gets.” It’s odd.

“Strange.” Alan says, they’re at a stop light.

“What is?” Gaipa asks.

“That one guy,” Alan taps the steering wheel, “the one who never asked you anything. He never tried starting a conversation with you but he was your friend for years?”

Gaipa blinks, “Oh, yeah, I guess.”

“Odd.” Alan nods, then turns right, the shop is coming up. “I understand maybe being shy but once you’re friendly with someone,” Alan hums to himself, “Yeah, I still don’t get it. He makes no sense to me.” He turns the wheel beneath his hand, scanning the isle for a parking spot, “Just sounds kinda,” he trails off, unsure where he was going with that while also finding the perfect spot. He turns into it, completely forgetting to finish himself. The sound of Gaipa giggling has him turning. He makes sure to switch to park first, foot on the break, then he turns. “What? What’d I say?”

“It’s what you didn’t say that’s making me laugh.” Gaipa admits. “You,” he breathes, “I think I’m glad.” Gaipa says. He leans back in his seat looking happy.

“Hm?” Alan’s confused.

“I’m glad you don’t understand him.” Gaipa admits, “I’d be sad if,” he chews on the inside of his cheek, “if you stopped making conversation with me. I’d be sad.”

Alan stares, at the face of Gaipa, at the sight of Gaipa, at the feelings on Gaipa’s face. “I don’t like the thought of you sad.” Alan mumbles.

Gaipa turns to him, eyes flitting. He looks a bit emotional but also like he’s getting himself under control. Then he smiles. Alan’s so happy to see that smile.

“Thank you.” Gaipa says. “For asking about me.”

Alan stares, “Of course.” He can’t imagine not. He’s too odd not to. Alan is too curious about him not too. “So,” he smiles, “ice cream?”

Gaipa smiles back, something with teeth, he’s so beautiful, “Yeah.” he nods, looking excited and happy and so beautiful.

The two enter the shop together.

Alan’s lucky it’s not closed yet, they both are, neither checked online beforehand. It’s the same shop as last time, no need to find someplace new when Alan knows they both like this one. It’s also probably the only one not beginning to close this late into the evening.

Luckily, because of the time, they’re the only customers in here. It’s a blessing.

Alan turns to Gaipa, “What’s your flavor?” He asks.

“My flavor?” Gaipa blinks.

“If you were ice cream,” Alan explains, “what would be your flavor?”

Gaipa’s expression changes the instant those eyes turn from the board to Alan, “What is this,” he smiles, a personality test?”

Alan shakes his head, looking at Gaipa and only slightly getting lost in his eyes, “Just a question.”

Gaipa takes a breath, that smile grows, “Peanut butter probably.”

Alan’s smile takes form too, “You had that ready way too quick, how long have you been waiting for someone to ask your ice cream flavor?”

Gaipa shakes his head, “It came to me just now, no lie.” He says.

Alan shakes his head, “I don’t believe you.”

Gaipa shrugs, “Well it’s true.” He looks up, “What about you? What’s your flavor?”

Alan hums, looking at the board that lists flavors. It’s just an excuse to protect himself from Gaipa’s face. “I don’t know, maybe chocolate.”

“Typical,” Gaipa hums, “I get it now.”

Alan smiles, “Predictable?” He asks.

Gaipa shakes his head, “No actually, predictable would’ve been vanilla. You went with chocolate.”

“Sure,” Alan says, “but it’s not odd.” He defends.

“Neither is peanut butter.” Gaipa tells him.

“Well then,” Alan says, “you’ve got a really normal ice cream flavor but I bet you do something else with it, like, put honey on it straight or—“

“Pickles?”

Alan snaps his fingers, “Pickles! Pickles?” He does a double take, a disbelieving tug on his mouth showing his teeth. Even through oddity he’s smiling.

Gaipa’s grinning like he can’t help it. “I’m lying.” He admits, grin growing wider.

Alan breathes, “I hoped so, that would be so odd.”

“I actually don’t like toppings.” Gaipa says.

“I take it back,” Alan looks away, “nothing could be odder than that.” He looks back at Gaipa, “No toppings? What are you, sad?”

Gaipa blinks, “What’s wrong with liking it simple?” He grins, like he knows the exact effect of what he’s just said and he’s being contrary anyway.

“I don’t know,” Alan plays with him, “what’s wrong with liking your life?”

Gaipa guffaws, “Oh my god, it is not that serious.”

“For some people it is.” Alan says, staring resolutely at the board of Ice cream.

Gaipa has not once looked away from Alan’s face, “Are you some people?”

“I might be,” Alan gives in, looking back, “what’s it to you?”

Gaipa just smiles, “Are we gonna order our ice cream now?”

“Yes,” Alan smiles back, “yes we are.”

Alan might be a little in love with the way Gaipa speaks to other people. It’s not strange that he thinks this way after witnessing Gaipa’s smile at the tired student scooping their ice cream. Gaipa’s just sweet, and Alan likes seeing it.

Alan’s always liked sweet people, even when Wen wasn’t, he always thought a little sweetness would brighten his mood. But some people just don’t have it in them to be as polite and sweet to workers as they can be.

Alan’s one of them. He gets too nervous to be sweet, or worked up sometimes. But after seeing Gaipa, he tries, he tries for a smile and when the worker doesn’t spare him a second glance he turns and Gaipa’s watching face is enough. He hopes Gaipa likes sweet people too. Alan would be sweet for him.

He stops that thought there, it’s unfair.

“I’ll pay,” Alan says, digging into his pocket for his wallet, “I dragged you out here.” He reasons.

Gaipa rolls his eyes, “Come on, I may joke about my own debt but I’m not broke.” He says, “I can afford random afternoon ice cream.”

“I can also afford it,” Alan tells him, “I’m just trying to be a gentleman about it.”

“I’m paying.” Gaipa says, and Alan only realizes in that moment that Gaipa’s already swiped his card. Alan gapes. “I told you.” Says a smug face.

“Cruel.” He’s smiling.

Gaipa smiles back, “Where should we sit?”

Alan looks around, then sees their table from last time. Gaipa sees it too, and the two walk to it in silent agreement.

The moment they sit, a short silence falls upon them. Usually conversation just flows between them, but this feels a little deliberate now. Should Alan speak first? It feels, a bit like a date put this way. Which is a horrible thought to have for his mental well-being.

Gaipa looks perfectly content with the silence though, he’s enjoying his ice cream and Alan figures it’s not a problem if he does the same with his. It’s nice not struggling to look for something to say when there’s nothing to be said. It’s nice that Alan can just be in someone’s presence without catering to a presence. It’s comfortable.

Everything about Gaipa is comfortable and really that should be the expectation, comfort around Gaipa. It’s all Alan ever really wants. That’s a sad thought too, because he cant have this, not really. He can’t own Gaipa. He can’t even take him on a real date, show him what that’s like, show him what attention from someone like Alan really means.

In that moment, Alan has a weird thought, a weird wish. If only Gaipa was Mrs. Hong’s son.

Alan takes a bite of his ice cream and relishes in the brain freeze; he deserves it.

“You think very loudly.” Gaipa acknowledges.

“I’ve been told that before.” Alan admits.

Gaipa’s lashes lift to look at him, a face that Alan’s never seen before. This is what Gaipa looks like when he’s content, maybe a little sleepy but mostly calm.

Gaipa tends to be an energetic person, always smiling, heart beating excitedly like he’s winged. But this is Gaipa in an ice cream parlor at nearly 7 in the afternoon and Alan’s never seen this expression before.

“Your thinking is oddly quiet.” Alan notes.

Gaipa’s cheek twitches, “That’s because I’m not thinking,” he says, “I prefer to just feel and experience, I’m really enjoying this ice cream right now.”

Alan hums, looking at the nearly empty thing and that spoon hanging between Gaipa’s lips, “I can see that.”

Gaipa nods, “Trust me, if I were thinking you’d be able to see it on my face. Or you’d hear it, I think aloud.”

Alan tilts his head, “Really.” Fascinating.

Gaipa nods, “I’m not a good thinker,” he says, “I don’t prefer it, but when I do I just do it out loud. Someone else will tell me if I’m doing it wrong. Otherwise I get sad about the wrong things, because I don’t think right.”

Alan blinks, “What’s that mean?” How can someone think wrong?

“I make conclusions that have no logical reasoning.” Gaipa explains, Alan watches him use his spoon to do it. “I could see a neighbor wave at me and think, Oh! They must be signaling that I’m wearing my shirt backwards. But I’m not, and then I assume that neighbor tried sabotaging me.”

Alan can’t help the laugh that comes, “Really?” That’s so odd.

Gaipa smiles, he nods, “Really, I’m serious. My brain doesn’t work too well, or not logically at least. But I’m really good with enjoying things. Like this ice cream, I’m probably enjoying it better than you.”

Alan stares, a smile lost on his face, “You’re probably right,” he admits, “I got so lost in my head that I forgot to enjoy it.”

Gaipa winks, “Experiencing works so much better without thinking.” He says like it’s a secret. “You should try it sometime.”

Alan watches him, the way his eyes are so dark that Alan can see his reflection, the way his cheeks have smile lines. Alan nods, “I will.” Gaipa’s advice is worthy, he decides. He now has no choice but to give it a shot.

“Does that mean we can get more ice cream?”

Alan laughs the night away.

By the time they come up those steps it’s so late that Alan’s starting to get Deja vu, only this time everyone’s sober. The hall light stays still, the carpet doesn’t squeak as they walk, and the stairs weren’t as challenging today. Alan walks Gaipa to his door.

“Thanks for the ice cream!” Gaipa says, waving as Alan walks the five steps back to room 101.

Alan waves back, “You’re welcome, thanks for the advice today.”

Gaipa’s smile widens and Alan nearly forgets himself as he opens his door. His heart picks up at the last moment, a sense of foreboding; Deja vu. Alan races inside his apartment, his room, before he has to hear that song. His heart stutters as the door shuts before—He hears it through the wall. How cruel.

Alan sighs, taking Gaipa’s advice immediately he decides not to think on it. He just clears up the shoe rack and gets ready for bed. He follows his routine relatively content, speeding through to hold onto that feeling. By the time he’s in bed his heart is racing and his legs buzz and he, suddenly feels wide awake. How cruel.

He really can’t escape thinking can he. He’s not like Gaipa, thinking is his thing. It’s what he’s good at. It’s all he’s good at really. Well, shame follows he figures, life moves on. He turns on his side. Sleep finds him eventually, he just never knows when.

The morning comes. Alan does the dishes. He makes something warm on the stove before his run, then he heads out.

Halfway down the stairs he sees the sun rise and by the time he’s out the building, the sky is purple. Red meets blue and Alan watches it blend to fade as the moon falls away. He admires it on his jog to the park.

Past the first block, once the sky is orange, Gaipa appears. “Hello neighbor!” He greets.

Alan smiles, “Hello Gaipa.” He calls back, turning his head to see that grin coming towards him.

“Oh?” Gaipa’s head tilts, lip tugging as he slows by Alan’s side, “Have you always called me by my name like that?” He asks.

Alan’s brow furrows, “Like what?”

Gaipa grins, “So friendly,” he says, “I like it.”

Alan smiles, then instantly tries to shake it off, “How’s your cat?” He asks instead.

Gaipa turns to look at that orange sky, “He’s better, he hasn’t eaten my rug yet, this time.”

Alan laughs to himself, “He sounds like he’s been busy.”

Gaipa huffs, “As busy as a cat can be. He’s probably up to something else and just waiting for me to find it.” He tells him.

Alan nods, “Maybe.” The block turns as they come up to it. The grass is green today. The bench is empty. “I think it’s going to be a good day today.” Alan says, mostly to himself.

Gaipa turns to him with a smile, “I sure hope so.”

They finish their run together and Alan really isn’t in the mood to race up the stairwell to see who gets to the top fastest but, Gaipa smiles at him something devious and Alan does it anyway. Gaipa wins. No one is surprised but Alan’s ego is still bruised.

“You had a head start.” He breathes.

Gaipa laughs, breathless, “You’re just old.”

Alan gapes, “Watch it!” He crows, teeth shining like he’s more amused than he dares let on.

Gaipa just turns around, grin not hiding anything. “I’ll see you later!” He calls.

Alan nods back, entering his apartment and shutting himself in quickly. He finds himself in his bedroom before Gaipa even opens his door.  His heart pounds. Today is going to be a good day.

He makes it to work on time, no traffic, no trouble. He has easy clients and one new nearly clueless just turned 18 person who probably suffers from anxiety. He helps them through it before lunch comes and the rest of his day is pretty much the same, predictable. It’s Friday, he’s just glad to be free for Sunday. The banks are always closed on Sundays.

And Saturday he has a reservation. He drives home with the thought of it on his mind.

It’s been a while since he’s taken himself out to eat, taken himself out in general. Even with Wen, he cooked for him more often then they ever went out. This will be nice, he tells himself. Like a date, but it’s just him. It’ll be nice. He’s earned it. He tells himself so all the way home.

Alan is on the steps walking up when he hears heavy feet tumbling down in a hurry. He doesn’t even register it as Gaipa til he’s whizzed past him.

He looks a bit busy “Can’t talk right now!” He says, “Sorry!” His voice fades down the stairwell.

Alan just looks back, a bit concerned, a bit confused. But he turns back around, minding his business. Gaipa must miss his Ma, he figures, and continues to his room.

He opens his door, shouldering through the sticky paint of the hinge and closing it behind him. He’s back, a bit reluctant to say home, all he can say is; he’s returned. His apartment looms.

The sound of the AC kicking on matches the thud of his briefcase against the back of the couch. He sighs, tugging off his shoes and sliding his tie out from around his neck. His pants tug as he comes around the corner, entering the kitchen with the flick of a light.

He flicks it back off, the sun is still high.

Alan gets to work. He packs up the fridge, throwing out the old produce he never used and wiping down the racks. He soaps up the stove and cleans the pot he used that morning. Alan finishes reorganizing the pantry and makes a mental note to get groceries Sunday, after his reservation.

Alan comes back around that corner, grabbing his tie and blazer on his way to his bedroom. He flicks on the light, the sun has disappeared. He changes out of his work clothes, buttons and belt and socks going to the laundry. He turns the knob on the shower and prepares the warm water. He’s tired, feels it in his bones, this will help.

By the time he’s done, he’s half asleep on his feet. His bed welcomes him face first and he only lightly fantasizes about a hand rubbing his shoulder. He doesn’t think about Gaipa’s face connected to it, but now he’s thinking about Gaipa’s face connected to it.

He sighs, pressing himself further into the mattress til he’s borderline uncomfortable. It’s enough, he’ll survive. Today, he’s survived, and tomorrow he will treat himself for his survival. He will eat overpriced food and listen to loud conversation happening around him that he is not part of. It will be worth it.

He’s so certain that the thought sends him to sleep.

Traveling through the hall in a fit of a dream, he really has no escape from this room, from this life; little, routine, and predictable. How cruel. Alan can’t remember how he feels about it actually, about this hallway. The word cruel just fits somewhere. Something in his mind says it, maybe it’s about him.

Walking through this hall he is dreamlike and untethered, his feet slip through. He stops outside of a door. Room 101. Back to the old house, he thinks. It sounds like a song, maybe one he’s heard before. He hears another song, one he thinks he likes, “Honey! I’m home!”

He turns around and sees nothing. The hallway is empty, but he hears that song. He thinks he hates it. He can’t be sure.

All he knows is that, when he turns back to this door, room 101, he dreads opening it. He doesn’t want to go back. Too many memories. He can’t take it. Just let him be, he pleads.

No one answers but a whistle down the hall. Alan cannot turn his head. The whistle proceeds. Alan recognizes that song. His back meets the door, he did not realize his back was to a door. He slides down, sat upon the ground, head falling back, throat exposed. The whistle stops.

There is a figure looming over him, Alan knows it, but he can’t turn to see him. He feels him first anyway. That figure’s back hits the door and slides down next to him.

They sit, side by side, ankle to ankle, outside of that door. The man doesn’t ask him to go inside nor does he go away. The two just sit. What a comfort. Alan’s head falls to his shoulder and continues right through. How cruel. He is awake again.

This time it is not 4 nor 5 but 6. Alan has missed his morning run but he doesn’t really mind, his body is too lethargic anyway. Regardless, It’s a Saturday and he has a reservation, he’s going to dine out no matter how sad a table for one is.

His reservation is in the evening, he has so much time. Maybe he should do the grocery shopping today. He decides in it an instant and the next moment he is in his bathroom.

Staring at himself in the mirror, shaving at the growing stubble on his chin, he notices his bangs look a bit long. He feels no desire to cut them, they’re not a bother yet. Continuing on, he grabs his keys, socks and shoes, and prepares to leave his apartment. He has a list of things to get, not much, but enough to eat every morning for a week. He contemplates getting lunch foods too, ordering out each lunch is getting expensive.

For a moment he thinks about it, about moving out and finding someplace cheaper for the same size, but he thinks of that window and his deposit. No that’s a lie, first he thinks of Gaipa, then he thinks of his deposit. Both are enough for Alan to suck it up and roll down his car windows, he’ll save on gas this way.

Grocery shopping doesn’t take as much time on the weekends as it does during the week, especially not when Alan has a list. He comes home with enough time to put it all away and even more. The time leaves him thinking. He hasn’t seen Gaipa once today, odd. But Gaipa is usually odd.

The last time Alan had seen Gaipa he’d seemed to be in a rush, that’s a bit concerning. But Alan isn’t apart of Gaipa’s life like that, he can’t just show up and nose around. He’ll have to wait to run into him on those steps, again. Or in front of his door.

Alan thinks about that first night that he recognizes as their meeting. It feels like a dream, Deja vu. Maybe he’s dreamt of it before.

Alan can admit he misses him though. He has too much time to avoid that thought.

He sits back on his couch with all this time and he uses it to think of Gaipa; room 100. It’s nice to have someone to think of when there is nothing to do. Alan’s not ever been one for fantasizing much but, he can see the appeal like this.

If he were a daydreamer he would think of Gaipa sitting next to him, watching life through that open window. He’d think of a glass in his hand and the turn of his hip toward Alan. He’d turn his head too, and maybe he’d smile. No, Alan knows he’d smile. Gaipa is always smiling, even at Alan, a delusional part of himself thinks maybe because of Alan.

Alan isn’t delusional he’s a realist. He knows it’s not like that.

Still, he dreams it. He thinks of Gaipa’s hand on his arm and his chin hooked over his shoulder; it’d be warm. Gaipa would be smiling. Alan feels like kissing.

With a sigh he flips his sleeve. His watch tics,-tic-tic til 7—oh, it’s time. He stands from that couch, easily missing the arm of it bumping into his hip with ease. He opens the door to his room and shuts the curtains as he passes by.

Alan changes quickly, oiling his hair and using the last of the cologne from Christmas. Then he leaves.

He walks past Gaipa’s apartment, oddly silent. Alan forgets he has a cat. He remembers it now, as he passes. But he forgets it just as quickly.

Oddly, Alan doesn’t run into Gaipa on the stairs at all.

It wouldn’t be odd if he’d seen him this morning but he didn’t, he hasn’t seen him even once. Alan usually sees Gaipa once a day, routine. But Gaipa doesn’t revolve around Alan’s world, he’s allowed to be gone, to be missing, to choose not to see Alan. It’s not as dramatic as he’s making it out to be. It really isn’t. But it is .

It’s odd. It makes Alan’s head spin. He heads to the restaurant.

The roads are clear for the most part, a Saturday evening and he only hits one red light. It leaves him 30 minutes to find a parking spot which he seems to need; it’s busy. Less odd, more annoying but he pulls in 8 minutes before his reservation.

He tugs the parking break up, ignition off and listens to the AC shut off. Alan gathers his breath then grabs his phone from the dash and heads in. It’s as Alan’s walking up to the front doors that he takes a look around. He can see the buildings looming across the car park, the mall and the telephone company. It really is close by, he muses, then he opens the door.

He’s seated shortly after reading his reservation. The young woman looks at him and upon hearing his name, smiles, “Yes,” she says, “you’re party has just arrived.”

Alan blinks. “Excuse me?”

She pays him no mind as she gathers a menu in her hand and walks off. Alan, a bit sure he’s heard her incorrectly, follows behind. It’s as they walk toward his table that he recognizes, he did not in fact mishear.

The waitress sets his menu down on the empty side of the table, and with a bow, walks off. Alan continues to stare. “You know,” he starts, “this is the fraternization I’ve been talking about.” He drags his seat open, sitting as quietly as he can. He wants to be dramatic. Alan sighs, “What are you doing here Mrs. Hong?”

Mrs. Hong’s lip is painted red, “Nothing wrong with being friends,” she says, a roll of her neck before she too sighs, “It was supposed to be my son here.”

“You didn’t,” Alan looks away, collecting himself quickly, then back, “You tried crashing my reservation?”

“I just wanted you to give him a chance,” she defends but then she deflates, “Trust me, he gave me an earful.” She does look miffed. Mrs. Hong is relentless despite it, “He was busy anyway, emergency at home or something. So, here I am.” She waves her hands like it’s cute. Alan goes for his water to hide the ridiculous smile he wants to wear, this is ridiculous. “Care to spend your dinner for one with an old lady?” She asks, batting her lashes in a way only Mrs. Hong knows how to do.

Alan tries to be mad, really, but there’s no point. Nothing has effected his routine and it’s not like eating alone is any better, plus, he has a soft spot for Mother figures. “Alright,” he gives in, pulling open his menu and calling over a waiter, “but no drinking he tells her.”

Mrs. Hong’s eye goes mischievous, “Not even a little?”

Alan shakes his head, “No, you drove here didn’t you?”

Mrs. Hong grins, “I took the bus.”

Alan rolls his eyes, “Well I drove—“

“Then you can supervise me!”

“A glass of wine that’s all I’m paying for.”

Mrs. Hong’s smile goes so wide it feels familiar, “You really are a good man Alan.”

It feels tingly. Alan blinks, “Thank you.” He says, polite. But Mrs. Hong smiles at him in a way that feels more than politeness, sweetly, like a mother should. Mother never smiled at him this way. It’s not uncomfortable.

“So then,” Mrs. Hong claps, turning to the first waiter who comes to the table, “Wine?”

Alan makes a note to never give Mrs. Hong wine ever again. “I just don’t know what to do!” She bemoans, “I’m his mother and all I want to do is coddle him but he won’t let me.” Alan doesn’t even think this is the wine’s fault he’s just nervous she’s going to spill and stain her white shirt. “Alan, you have to believe that this kid loves me.” She pouts.

Alan nods, “I do.” He takes a small cut of steak and chews, an excuse to keep his mouth shut as much as possible. Otherwise Mrs. Hong will find fuel to her passion.

“Really,” she exacerbates, “He does. He just doesn’t trust my boyfriend judgement anymore.” Mrs. Hong sighs, chewing a bit of kale from her plate. She makes a face, “I thought greens got better as an adult.” She looks up at him, “It doesn’t.” She says, like a secret. “It never tastes any better.”

Alan’s lip twitches, “I know,” he nods, “I’m nearly 30 and I still hate my veggies.”

Mrs. Hong nods, a smile, satisfied, “Good,” she says, “Good man. My son should be judging his crushes based on their ability to eat a veggie.”

Alan shakes his head, “I wouldn’t make it then, didn’t we just go over this?”

Mrs. Hong shakes her head, “Not if they’re able to, but which ones are honest about not liking them! That’s the catch! Plus, if they genuinely like veggies they won’t match my son anyway. He lives off ramen and takeout and the kid goes green at the sight of broccoli.” She huffs, shaking her head as if recalling something intimately familiar. “That poor kid, he’s gonna be single his whole life.”

“That makes two of us.” Alan hums.

Mrs. Hong hums back, “Guess that makes three.” They toast to that. “At least we’re not lonely.”

Alan sips his water. She’s right, at least there’s that. At least the water doesn’t taste like dust.

The night ends shortly after Mrs. Hong nearly gets away with ordering another wine bottle. Alan shuts that down quickly and in the end he drives her to her bus stop.

“You don’t have to drive me the whole way.” Mrs. Hong argues, looking a little subdued in his passenger seat.

“You’re an older woman walking alone at this hour in the middle of the city, you’re drunk.” Alan tells her, “Trust me, your son will be plenty mad I didn’t drive you home.” 

Mrs. Hong shakes her head, “My son is a sweetheart, he’d thank you just for eating dinner with me. But he won’t know, he doesn’t know I’ve got a friend.” She whispers, a giddy smile on.

“Why not?” Alan asks.

Mrs. Hong smiles, “He’ll think I’m lonely without him.” She says, “Which I am,” she admits, “but he doesn’t need to know that. I miss my kid, every day,” she says, Alan listens, “but I want him to live his life without his Ma attached to his hip.”

The light turns red and Alan rolls to a stop, tapping his steering wheel he says, “He sounds like he wouldn’t mind.”

Mrs. Hong smiles, a bit sleepy, plenty fond, “He wouldn’t. But his boyfriend would,” Alan rolls his eyes as she picks up the conversation again, “If he could get a boyfriend then he wouldn’t want to live with his Ma. I’m telling you Alan, he needs a real kind man in his life. Not that old sucker from down the street. Someone who can cook,” she hums, “yeah, a man who can cook and’ll invite me over for dinner or breakfast maybe. I’d approve of him.”

Alan hums, “Sounds like a good man.” Alan doesn’t think Wen ever cooked for him.

Mrs. Hong nods, the light turns green, “Yeah, real decent like his Pa. That’s all I want for him.”

Mrs. Hong falls asleep in his passenger seat. Alan feels bad for waking her at the bus stop, he feels bad for leaving her at the bus stop but she refuses to tell him where she lives. She can be oddly secretive, but Alan likes oddity. He continues home on a Saturday night, and for such an odd night, he considers it a success.

Alan marches up those steps with a destination in mind, bed. Alan wants to sleep and run in the morning. He’s beyond tired after that dinner and Mrs. Hong’s company isn’t necessarily energizing. It feels like a tornado has blown through and he—he hits that last step and it looks like a tornado has blown through.

Alan sees Gaipa for the first time today and he, looks frantic. There’s a potted plant under the window at the end of the hall but he’s turning it over and, Alan winces as the branch hits the window. Gaipa doesn’t seem to notice. He looks—up, Gaipa is looking up and around and Alan watches as he comes down the corridor.

There are a couple things at this point in Alan’s life that he remembers. He remembers that Gaipa is really the reason he never moved out of that apartment. He also remembers this next instance is possibly the one unpredictable thing in Alan’s life that he’s most grateful for; he tucks it right next to his peanut allergy.

“Honey!” Gaipa calls, Alan flinches, “Where are you honey!” Gaipa continues down the hall and Alan considers walking up that final step and asking if Gaipa’s okay. Is he looking for his partner? It seems a bit odd not to just call them on his phone but, maybe they fought. Alan shakes his head, not his business.

Alan finishes up that last step. Gaipa continues to call. The hallway isn’t that long, by the time Alan’s finished with the stairs Gaipa’s in front of him.

“Oh!” Gaipa nearly trips himself, “Alan you’re back!” Alan nods, but Gaipa grabs his arm. “Have you seen him anywhere?”

Alan blinks, he didn’t see a man on the stairs no. He shakes his head, “I’m sorry.”

Gaipa’s face falls, “God, I really don’t know what I’m going to do this time.”

He’s panicking. Alan grabs his shoulder, “Hey, calm down first, tell me what happened.”

Gaipa looks up, then around, then back. He sighs, head falling, “I just don’t know what he wants from me, I try so hard to make him comfortable and I—“ Gaipa hiccups.

“Hey,” Alan tries to get his attention back, he’s never seen Gaipa so upset before, “Hey, it’s okay.”

“Alan what if he gets hurt out there?” Gaipa breathes.

Alan blinks, “He’s, probably fine.”

“You think so?” Gaipa asks. “I have to find him as soon as possible.”

“Okay,” Alan nods, “Do you have a number you can call?”

Gaipa stands and thinks, “His collar might—I could call the vet, maybe check the local animal shelters—“

Alan blinks. “Uh-hm?” Alan blinks again. “For?”

“Honey.” Gaipa says.

“Honey?” Alan asks.

“Honey!” Gaipa shouts.

Alan turns around at the sight of Gaipa throwing himself down the stairs to catch, a cat. On the first landing walking out from behind a rail is the grey cat Alan had taken care of a while back.

“Honey is,” Gaipa scoops up, “the cat.” Alan blinks, staring at the grey mound bundled in Gaipa’s arms.

Gaipa coos to the kitty tucked into his arms, turning around as he comes up those steps slowly. “Mhm,” Gaipa stops by Alan’s side, smiling, “Yes, this is Montow,” he says, Alan stares, “I forgot to introduce you two back then, I can’t believe he just showed up like that,” Gaipa shakes his head, “he must’ve recognized your voice or something because I’ve been calling him for hours,” Gaipa says, looking a bit put out, “He must like you,” Gaipa smiles at Alan, then down at the cat, “Say hi Montow!”

“Hi Montow.” Alan greets.

Gaipa looks up, then he laughs. He waves Montow’s paw, “Hi Khun Alan kraaab!” Gaipa’s voice is soft and high when he imitates Montow. It’s odd. Alan adores it.

The cat is called Honey. “Is Honey a nickname?”

Gaipa looks up, “Mhm!” He nods, wide eyes bright and happy. He looks relieved.

“How long have you been looking for him?” Alan asks.

“Practically all day,” Gaipa sighs, “I didn’t notice til last night that I must’ve locked him out but I spent all morning looking under couches and stuff. I had to cancel with my Ma just to keep looking for him. I could’ve sworn I’d check the stairwell though.”

“It gets loud during the day,” Alan points out, “he might’ve hid because of that.” He’s a solver.

Gaipa nods, “You know what, that could be.”

Honey is the cat. “What about your partner?” Alan asks, “Why didn’t you ask him to help you look.”

Gaipa blinks, “Partner?”

Oh. Oh. Honey is the cat.

Alan sighs, “This is going to be embarrassing.” He admits.

Gaipa is confused until it dawns on him, “Wait, don’t tell me,” Alan lets it happen, “You thought?” Gaipa blinks then, “Oh my god,” he giggles, he’s giggling at Alan’s stupidity, “Oh my god you thought I had a partner this whole time?”

“Don’t laugh at me.” Alan pouts.

“No because, no! That’s so funny! I’m so sorry.” He’s not, he’s still laughing. “Why do you look so distraught though?” Gaipa questions.

Alan groans, “Because if I knew you were single I would’ve asked you out sooner.”

Gaipa blinks, that smile stuck on his face twitching, disbelief. “Eh-hm?” Alan ignores the embarrassment crossing his neck. “You,” Gaipa breathes, “want to ask me out?” He sounds like he might faint, “This entire time…”

Alan sighs, “I understand if you want to reject, I—“

“Reject you?” Gaipa grabs hold of himself, “No! No god no!” Alan blinks. “Oh my god,” Gaipa breathes, “this entire time.” He curses to himself under his breath and Alan gets the sinking feeling he’s missing something. “I wanted to ask you out!” Gaipa says.

Alan blinks again. “What?” Then it hits him, “Wait! Why didn’t you?”

“Well!  I don’t know, you didn’t seem ready!” Gaipa whines, jostling a disapproving Montow in his arms, “I didn’t want to insert myself where I didn’t belong!”

“Oh trust me, you can insert yourself anywhere you want, it wouldn’t have bothered me.” Alan slaps a hand over his mouth so quick it makes a sound.  The two stop, then gape at each other. “That came out wrong.” Alan admits.

Gaipa chokes then giggles. “I mean, if you’re offering.”

Alan swallows. “Meet me by my door in 10?”

Gaipa’s face brightens, lip bitten smile tearing his cheeks full, “Mm,” he nods, “Of course.”

Gaipa is so beautiful dressed in moonlight, nothing but moonlight. Alan has a new favorite color.

“Do you think this is too fast?” Gaipa whispers, curling close, nose nudging under his bicep, looking to get closer. “What if we’re doing it wrong?”

Alan doesn’t say that if he’d done it his way that they’d have done this a long time ago, he doesn’t say that he’s thought about this with Gaipa before he even fully realized he had feelings for him. He doesn’t really know what to say, just that, “Nothing about you feels wrong to me.” And it’s the truth.

He plays with Gaipa’s hair and feels his pretty smile grow into his skin. Alan wants to kiss it but that would make him stop smiling. It’s a real problem; good thing Alan’s a solver. He hopes he has problems like these for a long time. He wants all of them.

“How was it?” Gaipa asks next.

Alan smiles, “Beyond.” Alan didn’t know sex could be so comforting, but it makes him excited to try it again, and again, and maybe, again?

Gaipa, as if he can read thoughts, flushes and bites his smile into submission. He fails. Alan helps him kiss it off. He’s a solver.

“I want to date you.” Alan tells Gaipa between their next kiss.

Gaipa is busy trying to crawl into Alan’s skin but he pauses, just long enough to respond. “I’d like that.”

Alan smiles, pressing another kiss to his lips, “I heard there’s an art exhibit by the telephone company,” Alan feels Gaipa’s smile against his mouth, “y’know the one near the mall.” He whispers.

Gaipa giggles, “Really, I don’t think I’ve ever been.”

“Really?” Alan blinks, acting dumb, “You’ve never gone? Then you should take your Ma, I think she’d like it.”

“Oh, oh” Gaipa coos, grabbing Alan’s face, “No don’t worry, she’s already been. I’d like to go with my new boyfriend though, I think it’d be a great excuse to finally see him in paisley. Don’t you think?”

“Oooi,” Alan’s grin turns unabashed. “Mm,” he nods, “alright.” He agrees. Gaipa could not look more pleased.

He wears that paisley suit and tie.

The art exhibit is beautiful, not Alan’s interest but he can see what grabs Gaipa’s attention. He’s more fixated on the odd expressions his face makes when he sees another modern art sculpture of an atom in a white room. It really entertains him.

“I don’t get it, so much space and they chose to put a broken chair and nothing else? Who decides that that chair is the only art worthy of being a center piece? It’s a large room too so—“

“Mm.” Alan hums, so content with just listening to Gaipa speak under a grapevine awning. This restaurant really was a good choice. It paints his face so pretty.

Gaipa’s hand twitches as he gets more passionate, but not once does it release from Alan’s hold. Actually, when Alan had gone to let go to grab his water Gaipa had shot him the nastiest look and tightened. Alan decides water isn’t worth it. That’s what straws are for.

“You’re staring.” Gaipa picks at a strand of fabric on the table cloth.

“I am,” Alan nods, something lazy, “do you mind?”

Gaipa looks at him out of the corner of his eye, “Not really.” He grabs for his straw.

Alan smiles. This is nice.

The light above Gaipa dresses him in gold and silver. The light breeze tucks under Alan’s paisley, keeping him cool. That very wind plays with Gaipa’s hair, bringing that attractive face out for Alan to admire. Unabashedly he does, admire, stare. Alan has a staring problem when he’s around Gaipa, he can’t help it. The man is beautiful, the man is lively, the man is more interesting than the art in the very museum he introduced him to. 

Alan is infatuated, beyond. Alan looks at Gaipa and feels so heavily these feelings of bliss and excitement and yet, a calm content washes over him knowing he knows Gaipa. Alan feels content, the kind of content that comes from predictability. A safe space. Gaipa is that safe space that tells Alan he has someone looking out for him, someone to talk to. Gaipa is proof Alan is no longer lonely.

It’s different from the feeling Alan gets around Mrs. Hong. Mrs. Hong is the definition of life to a party, you can’t be lonely around Mrs. Hong. Gaipa is, different. Gaipa is receptive, Gaipa is bright and the radio in life that Alan favors. Gaipa is Alan’s favorite song. Gaipa is green lights on every stop and a long red at the end of a scenic route. Gaipa is the anticipation of seeing a man with excitement on the stairs every morning. 

Gaipa is the man Alan is in love with, that’s all. That’s why it’s different. 

He just doesn’t know how to tell him that. It’s too soon, he knows that much, but it’s true. Alan is in love with Gaipa from room 100 and it blows his mind to think he’s on a date with him right now. Alan catches Gaipa’s little glances here and there, moments where he looks and stares and the history of a smile charming the light on his face is proof that Gaipa is at least attracted to him. If Alan’s lucky, Gaipa likes him. 

It blows his mind. 

Alan doesn’t know how to say that though, so he doesn’t. Alan doesn’t choose to do much about it, his love, but it lets itself be known throughout his time with Gaipa. It’s in the way he hides the bill from him, in the way he tucks the leaf out of his hair and pockets it, in the way he opens Gaipa’s door and places his hand on his seat as he backs out of his parking spot; no reason for it really, he just, needs an excuse to be close to Gaipa. 

Alan walks Gaipa home. Alan listens to Gaipa talk about Montow on the stairwell steps and slowly observes how the conversation changes to his mother. Alan is amazed every time. They’re outside of Gaipa’s house before Alan’s even finished listening to his story. Alan doesn’t mind standing there as Gaipa finishes, Gaipa doesn’t seem to mind either. 

The smile stuck on Gaipa’s face is mesmerizing. Gaipa’s gone quiet, just a bit, his story is finished, and this is where Alan wonders if he should kiss him. Should he invite him back to his place instead? Alan has work in the morning, but, he wants to. 

Gaipa blinks then giggles, “You’re thinking face is so obvious.” And then he stands on his toes and steals Alan’s mouth himself.

Alan doesn’t care about his obvious face, not when it leads to a kiss like this. Gaipa’s lips pull Alan’s voice to his tongue. Alan’s hand searches Gaipa’s body for stability and purchase and Gaipa holds him in return. He grabs that hand and holds his chest and Gaipa is so warm. 

Gaipa pulls away, a dazed face that looks thoroughly satisfied. Beautiful. Gaipa is smiling. He is so beautiful. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” Gaipa whispers, stealing a second long kiss. Then he turns to his door, “Thank you for walking me home.”

”Thank you for going on a date with me.” Alan says. 

Gaipa giggles. “I’ll go on another, ask me about Thursday.”

”Are you free Thursday?” 

Gaipa bites his lip, smile begging to break loose, he nods. “Mhm.” And then he disappears behind that door. 

Alan stands there, a bit dazed. He stands and listens and for the first time, at the sound of Gaipa’s song, he smiles. Honey, I’m home. 

Alan goes to bed easily that night. Easy enough with the memory of Gaipa sleeping next to him but an absence of the man. Alan is content for now, he’ll drag him in later; moth to flame. Alan won’t control Gaipa, he tells himself. But, he’ll see him tomorrow. He falls asleep with a smile. 

That feeling of satin, hot and sweaty, soft and bruising, it sticks to him. His lashes unpeel, stuck. The sight of nothing but a pillow and a tossed over sheet, it sticks with him. This feeling, hot and soft, reminds him of that night.

That night, carved into his present thought, is a night acknowledged as Alan’s second meeting with Gaipa. That meeting was unlike the first, an introduction to his person, this was an introduction to his spirit. Gaipa’s spirit is hot and soft, gentle and sweaty. It’s the spirit of summer. Gaipa is so, satin. Alan doesn’t know what that means, just that he misses him. He misses the feeling of his skin that lasted that night.

To do it again, and again, and maybe again; Alan thinks of it. He dreamt of it he’s sure. But Alan doesn’t usually dream like that. Alan doesn’t usually yearn like this. For essence, Alan doesn’t yearn for essence. Alan yearns for person and place and activity but this is, spirit.

The spirit of Gaipa is summer and bruising and Alan feels along his shoulder for Gaipa’s kiss, proof left to remind him. Proof, Gaipa is walking proof that Alan is no longer lonely. Alan yearns for that spirit, to charge him for today, maybe. That must be why he yearns. He’s never felt so charged before. Alan misses it. He misses the spirit and touch of Gaipa. It leaves him aching.

Alan throws his legs into that empty space, crawling to a stand on the opposite side of the bed. He takes in the sun Gaipa must’ve seen. He takes in the feeling of touch on the carpet that Gaipa must’ve had. This experience, to experience what Gaipa did—Alan yearns. Did he like it? Maybe that’s what he wants to know.

Did Gaipa like it like Alan did?  

Alan makes for the bathroom. He turns the knob of the shower, listening to the sound of heat spur, it sucks up the cold space and tile. Alan’s feet warm as they cross to the sink. His bangs fall at an angle. Alan undresses in front of the mirror; he wants to see it, the proof.

He is not lonely, not like this. He touches the kiss of Gaipa, one on his shoulder, another across his stomach. Gaipa is everywhere Alan turns. Gaipa must’ve liked it then, Alan thinks. This is, a mark, left meant to last. This is territory, Alan thinks Gaipa must be a bit possessive. How beautiful. Alan hopes Gaipa is the same as him. How beautiful.

Alan thinks about those kisses in the shower. His small shower experienced it all. The aftermath of explorative discovery, an introduction.

The shower was nice, Alan thinks it was his favorite scene. Gaipa kissed him between soap and touch and Alan thinks Gaipa’s hands clean him better than his own. Gaipa seems to touch Alan better than Alan can. Alan feels known when Gaipa pets his shoulder, when he holds his chest, when he rubs behind his ear because he wants a kiss that he can lean into. Alan does, he kneels and holds Gaipa so he can lean close and closer.

Kissing Gaipa is Alan’s favorite scene. It is Alan’s favorite song, the sound. The shower delivers the sound so beautifully, acoustic. It is Alan’s favorite song. It tells him the memory of Gaipa’s taste. God. He misses his kiss. He tastes like sunshine. Alan misses him.

Alan finishes quickly. He doesn’t feel as clean but, it’s enough. He dresses without staring too much. He knots his tie and redoes it, he knots it again—third time’s a charm. Alan grabs his socks on the way through his bedroom, pointedly looking away from what could only trigger another memory of spirit. Alan misses him.

Alan cooks breakfast. It leaves him to wondering. What is Gaipa’s favorite food? How does he like his congee? Chicken or beef? How many bits of skewered pork—Alan shuts off the flame. He won’t burn his food today.

Alan sits at his lonely table, thinking of how lonely he isn’t. In person he is not lonely, in spirit? His essence feels dragged by loneliness.

He misses him.

How much lonely can he get? He has a boyfriend. Alan has a boyfriend. Alan misses his boyfriend. It’s only been a day, a night, a morning. But Alan wants to share these moments with him. How cruel. He can not force Gaipa into his activity. He still wishes, hopes, yearns, that Gaipa might like to; that Gaipa might wish to be in Alan’s space too. How beautiful that thought.

Alan heads to work. It is a shame that Gaipa does not appear. Alan does not expect Gaipa every morning, Alan missed his run after all, but he is saddened. It’d have been nice. Alan heads to work.

He clocks in through the receptionist then heads to his office. It’s dusty so Alan cleans. His first client is on time so he introduces their bill of exchange and wraps up their purchase. His next client reschedules. Alan has time to check his dues.

Alan doesn’t run into Mrs. Hong this day, but he checks his work calendar and sees Mrs. Hong scheduled online for Thursday morning. Alan shakes his head. She works quick.

The day goes by relatively easy.

He returns to his car, hits every red light and then finds green at the end of the road. He parks and turns off the AC as his favorite song comes on. He listens to it a bit, then at the chorus, he shuts off the engine.

Alan follows up those steps. He misses Gaipa, he yearns for him in a way that is difficult. He knows what Gaipa tastes like, he misses that. Alan finds it hard missing someone when you know what it is you miss; he’s particular. Alan wants to kiss him again.

Loud, hurried, feet come bounding down. Alan looks up, a bit concerned and then, his smile arrives. Gaipa.

Gaipa looks beautiful, sunshine lips grinning so wide those teeth wink at him.

“And where are you off to?” Alan has to ask that beautiful man.

“Hm,” Gaipa tilts his head , “I came to pick up something.” He says.

“Hm?” Alan tilts his head, “A package?” He asks.

Gaipa grins, “You could say that.”

He comes down those steps in a flurry, flinging himself down the landing. Alan drops his briefcase to catch him. Wide eyes turn to look up at him between his arms, fast beating chest beating against fast beating chest.

Alan smiles, “Hello.”

Gaipa smiles back, “Hi.” Then something changes in his expression, “Want to come meet my cat?” He’s devious. Alan desires him all the same.

“I’d love to.” Alan has missed him so desperately.

Meeting Gaipa again, for the 3rd time, it’s a feeling Alan can’t describe, so he just lets himself feel it. Alan turns into Gaipa’s touch and lets him kiss him, eager and excited. Gaipa must’ve missed him too. Alan has missed him so much. Alan can’t even explain.

They live next door to each other but it feels too far. Alan wonders if Gaipa waited all day for him to come home, it reminds him of a cat and Alan worries. He doesn’t want to wear him down by waiting so long. But Gaipa, Gaipa doesn’t look worn. Gaipa just looks excited. Gaipa must’ve seen his mom today. Alan is glad.

Alan is introduced to Gaipa’s bed. This is a first Alan didn’t expect to have so quickly but he doesn’t mind. He’s seen apartment 100 before, now he’s seeing Gaipa’s room. It’s orange and illuminated by cat hair and t-shirts. Alan wants to clean it, organize the spirit of Gaipa in this room and maybe leave a tie on his dresser. It’s a horrible thought to have but with Gaipa smiling at him like this, Alan doesn’t think a horrible thought exists in his presence.

This is bad, Gaipa can not be Alan’s excuse. But Alan thinks Gaipa’s like of him is all he needs. Alan can not be cruel, Gaipa likes him. Gaipa wouldn’t like cruelty, surely, Alan can not be a bad thing. Not with how Gaipa likes him, not like this.

Gaipa kisses him so sweetly, so eager and excited, like he’s missed him. Alan swallows his smile, too happy to regret. He’s missed him. The taste of sunshine is so much better then breakfast.

No, Alan can not be cruelty. Gaipa smiles at him. And that is no excuse.

Alan can admit when an addiction in his life arises. At one point Alan could’ve been classified an alcoholic but this is nothing like that. Alan could be called a workaholic but he’s not addicted to the sense of stability and routine in an office quite the way he is to this.

Alan’s only tasted Gaipa once like this, in a bed, but he’s addicted, he knows he is. There’s a sense of intimacy with Gaipa that makes sex appealing. It feels like love. It feels like pleasure and prediction and sometimes, it’s odd. Gaipa makes sex so appealing. Alan can’t get enough.

It’s all he can think about while he lies here, awake, staring at Gaipa, asleep. He is beautiful and divine and young in a way Alan does not envy. A young Alan was impulsive and fearful, the older Alan is not too much better but at least he has money and with money comes security. Alan has a room and he can afford a paisley suit for a paisley tie. Alan can afford to take Gaipa on a date and pay the bill without checking with his bank first.

Alan does not envy the youth he had, but there’s a youth Gaipa wears that Alan is mesmerized by. Alan’s never been so attracted to youth, not quite like this. It must just be Gaipa. Alan thinks he’d like Gaipa just as much old as he does young. He is like the sun, radiant, an everlasting amount.

Alan is in love. Alan is so in love. Alan does not fall in love very often but he can admit that when it comes, he can not find his way out of it. There is no choice but to surrender. He surrenders. Alan surrenders to Gaipa. Alan does not mind submitting, as long as it’s Gaipa he submits too. One could even call Alan submissive, as long as that one is Gaipa.

How odd. Alan is so, so odd around Gaipa. Alan still wouldn’t change a thing. He’s in love with this oddity too.

He’s in love with this oddity too.

“You’re staring.” A grumbled morning voice rumbles against Alan’s chest. “Not that I mind,” says Gaipa, a man who has yet to peel open his lashes, “It’s just a particular quirk of yours.”

He looks happy to be waking up with his arms around Alan. Alan feels happy to see that smile.

“I was going to slip out and make you breakfast while you were sleeping.” Alan tells him.

Gaipa hums, “I would’ve been sad to see an empty pillow.”

Alan smiles, “I’m glad I didn’t then.”

Gaipa unsticks those lashes, bleary eyes looking up, “What kept you?”

“You,” Alan tells those eyes, “I was busy.” He thinks they’d understand with the way they stare so hard at him. They flit across his face as if taking him in for the first time. It leaves him tingly.

“Busy?” Gaipa’s smiling like he knows the answer already. He asks anyway, “Doing what?”

“Admiring you.” Alan admits, no reason to hide this feeling he feels. He’s sure Gaipa can see it on his face.

“Ooooh,” Gaipa’s teeth threaten to bite his smile, Alan hopes he won’t. He loves that smile. He wants to bite it for him.

“Would you like to join me?” Alan asks.

Gaipa’s cheeks widen, “Mhm,” he says with a nod. Those teeth threaten him, Alan has to kiss him now. Gaipa doesn’t seem to mind.

They find themselves in the kitchen just in time for the sun to greet them. Alan makes something warm, congee and beef and cheese. Gaipa likes beef. Alan knew he liked him for a reason. He tells him so and smiles at the giggle from Gaipa’s chest. He’s so beautiful, especially in Alan’s old favorite color.

Alan is introduced to Gaipa’s couch and coffee table, Gaipa’s version of Alan’s little table. Alan sees a perfectly good spot for a small dining room table but, he looks away, apartment 100 is not apartment 101. The couch suits them just fine. Alan likes the way Gaipa fits his feet across his legs. It’s odd.

Montow joins them. He opens his mouth as he comes close up on Alan’s side, nose twitching. Alan knows he can’t feed the cat but his lip pulls at the sight of Montow trying to breathe in the food through scent alone. He’s odd too.

“You and your cat are just alike.” Alan tells Gaipa.

Gaipa looks over, cheek full with a bite, “You think so?”

Alan smiles, “I know so now, you’re both food fanatics.”

Gaipa smiles, swallows his cheek and goes for Alan’s plate. Alan only half tries to keep it away from him, he gives up pretty quickly though. Gaipa is satisfied, cheeks full. Alan hopes he can feed him forever, it’d be nice.

Alan stands once his plate is suddenly, mysteriously empty. Gaipa’s still finishing his but it only takes one more “Gaipa bite” and it’s gone. Alan takes his plate as well, as he heads over to the sink.

He fills one side with hot water, the other he organizes the dishes. There’s less dishes than the last time he was over he recognizes. He wonders if that’s his effect or simply because Gaipa’s forgotten to move some dishes into the sink. Alan wonders if he’ll get to go find some around the apartment. It’d be fun. Alan grabs the dish soap.

“You know you don’t have to clean every time you come over.” Gaipa’s hand slides across Alan’s back, traveling the plain between his shoulder and spine. It tingles.

“I do know,” Alan nods, unbuttoning his sleeves to roll up his arms, he may not be wearing pants but he is always wearing his button down, “I also just like to do it.” He tells Gaipa, “I like having things to do.”

Gaipa hums, hooking his chin on Alan’s shoulder. Alan feels his grin before he hears it, “You could always do me.”

Alan has nothing to say to that except, he turns the sink off. The dishes can wait. How odd it is to break a routine when Gaipa is involved. How nice it is to be odd sometimes.

It’s been a week now and Alan can openly admit when he misses Gaipa’s dirty dishes now. Sometimes, walking past room 100, he’ll get the urge to knock on that door and let himself in, even if Gaipa’s out, he just wants to do his dishes. But it feels invasive and Alan is insecure about how far Gaipa will put up with him, so he doesn’t.

Alan continues to room 101 and readies for bed and work and runs in the morning like he always does. This time when he meets Gaipa on his run, he’s not just meeting his neighbor, but his boyfriend. Gaipa likes to hug him even when he’s full of sweat, prefers it even. Gaipa likes to wipe the back of Alan’s neck and kiss him just to lick up the moisture on his top lip. It’s so odd, Alan can’t get enough.

“Good morning Room 101.” Gaipa smiles.

Alan blinks, a bit lost in what’s just happened, “Good morning.” He wants another kiss.

Gaipa giggles, he must be able to tell. Gaipa watches him though with a smile, then he nods and returns back to his own space. They continue to run. Alan can’t get it out of his head.

All the way up those stairs Alan thinks of Gaipa’s kisses and honestly at this point he should know how to ask for them himself. But he doesn’t . Alan’s insecure. What if Gaipa doesn’t like neediness. What if Gaipa doesn’t like kisses.

Alan knows Gaipa must be able to see the thinking on his face, maybe he even knows what he’s thinking of, but he doesn’t interrupt him. It stays like that all way up to room 101.

“Have a good day at work!” Gaipa says, then disappears into his apartment and Alan is still thinking about his kiss.

He enters his own apartment and worries the pros and cons of embarrassment over acceptance. He could reject him, sure, and Alan would have to be okay with that. Making Gaipa uncomfortable is worse then being rejected. Suddenly that defeats the point of asking, to expect rejection. But, he could accept. There’s incentive.

Alan sighs. A dilemma. He finally has something to solve.

Alan figures it out in the car at a red light on the second turn to the bank. If he communicates his desire using clues, then Gaipa would not only have the option to observe and ignore it without full faced rejection—plausible deniability—but he would also have something to observe. Gaipa is an observer, he likes having something fun to look out for. This would hold his interest too, like a game. Gaipa likes games. It could work. Alan could use this to escape insecurity and the dilemma of rejection.

Avoidance, this isn’t a solution, not really. But, he reasons, it’s worth a shot.

He tries it out on his way home; just up those stairs and down the corridor, Gaipa’s coming home.

“Oh!” Gaipa notices him, “Alan!” He smiles widely.

Alan smiles back, he can’t help it, “Hi.”

Gaipa slows his steps to match Alan’s, “How was work?” He asks, wide eyes keeping hold of him.

Alan nods, “Good.” He holds those eyes back.

Gaipa stares, a bit intense, or maybe it’s always been this way. Alan tends to look away, but he doesn’t plan for that today. Gaipa smiles, “Good.” He says, something a little quieter. He looks away first.

Alan blinks. Gaipa’s face is a bit coquette, or maybe sheepish is a better word for it. Alan’s never seen him like this before. How cute. His smile grows.

He won’t be able to test his solution on Gaipa like this, he recognizes. But he doesn’t mind too much, he feels like he’s won something in the end anyway.

And he has, at the door to Gaipa’s apartment Gaipa looks up at him and it’s that stare that Alan recognizes. “Want to come inside?”

Alan swallows his insecurity, “Yes.” And then he swallows Gaipa’s tongue.

Passion travels like a chase through the small apartment. Alan suddenly finds themselves inside, in that room, in front of that bed. Gaipa giggles between bed sheets and Alan can’t help but follow him in. Moth to flame, Alan is choked by the emotion he births at the sight of him.

“Hello Honey.” Gaipa calls and Alan is gone. Alan desires him beyond.

“Hi.” Alan breathes.

Gaipa giggles at the sound of him. Alan smiles at the sight of him.

Alan had thought that he’d discovered all oddities of Gaipa from room 100. Nothing could be more odd then him suddenly becoming his boyfriend after all. But Alan, as he’s beginning to realize is common, was wrong.

It takes a week into dating Gaipa for Alan to meets his mom.

Alan has resolved with himself that he will make Gaipa breakfast and before he wakes up he’ll shuffle back into bed. Gaipa won’t even realize he’s gone, no hurt no foul. He’s nearly made it to the kitchen, part one success achieved, when his efforts are halted by a knock on the door.

Alan looks up. Who would be here at—he checks his watch, rolling up that sleeve of his—7 in the morning? The door receives another knock, this time heavier, and then that knob turns and Alan goes still. He stands there in nothing but his boxers and button down and suddenly comes face to face with—

“You.” She stares, hand still left on the door handle, “You!” She grins, door falling shut behind her loudly, “You’re the neighbor!” She shouts, just loud enough to wake everyone down the hall.

Alan gapes, “Mrs. Hong.”

Sure enough, that has Gaipa crawling out of his bedroom. He rubs at his face, first contact being Alan’s eyes. Gaipa smiles, sleepily coming over to hold onto his shoulder when he turns and, “Ma?” He blinks.

“Hi Gaipa honey!” Mrs. Hong grins, she looks beyond excited.

Alan thinks he’s swallowed his tongue. This, makes too much sense, oh god.

Gaipa’s head falls onto Alan’s shoulder, “What’re you doin’ here Ma?” He asks, rough accent slipping in a way Alan adores.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were dating my son!” Mrs. Hong cries, suddenly turning to Alan. Alan wants to sink into the floor. How was he supposed to know?

Gaipa looks up, then at his mom, “You too know each other?”

Mrs. Hong is an unstoppable force of excitement, “Oh my days this entire time!” She laughs, “I knew my son had good taste,” she clears her throat, walking over like she’s polite then sticks her hand out, “Hello Khun Alan.” She greets.

Alan takes it just to amuse her, “Mrs. Hong.” He nods.

Gaipa scrubs at his face again, “Please explain.”

Mrs. Hong bounces back, “Oh, Oh!” She exclaims, “Yes, Come on we’re going out for breakfast right this instant, my treat! We can talk all about it!” She’s already grabbing her purse. Alan’s gonna need some pants. He looks over at Gaipa, him too.

“Give us ten minutes and we’ll meet you back out here, Mrs. Hong.”

“Gosh! Call me mom now! Yes yes, I can wait. Where’s my Montow?”

Alan takes her distraction as a moment of escape. He takes Gaipa with him as he goes, shutting the bedroom door behind him. Gaipa’s busy looking up at him with that endearing face of his.

“I’m confused.” He says.

Alan nods, “Me too.”

Gaipa blinks. “I’m sure I’m more confused than you.”

Alan hums, “Your mom is my client.”

Gaipa looks at him, quiet for a moment, then, “How long?”

Alan thinks, “Probably as long as we’ve known each other?”

Gaipa blinks, “Huh.” Then his eyes widen, “You’re a loan officer aren’t you.”

Alan nods, “I am.”

“Oh my god,” Gaipa’s hand finds his face, “You’re the man my mom tried setting me up with.”

Alan nods, hand finding Gaipa’s neck, brushing into his hair.

“That’s so weird, we’re gonna talk about this later and why that’s suddenly really hot to me.” Gaipa says and Alan has to blink to come back to the conversation but Gaipa’s already moving on. He goes around his room looking for clothes acceptable for breakfast with his mom and Alan, like moth to flame, follows his lead.

Somehow Alan ends up in Gaipa’s shirt, and he only recognizes it’s Gaipa’s because Gaipa’s busy wearing Alan’s and, it does not escape Mrs. Hong’s notice. Her grin is so familiar. Really, Alan should’ve known.

“So,” Mrs. Hong grins, red lips poking at her straw, “Tell me everything. ”

Alan leans back in the booth seat, taking in the sound of busters waiting on tables, clearing away for the transition from breakfast to lunch. They’ve already been here an hour, busy explaining the origin story of how Mrs. Hong and Alan came to meet. Gaipa had many questions. There was a lot of groaning too at the sound of the intense dating regimen and bribery Mrs. Hong went through.

“Hey don’t groan at me,” Mrs. Hong pouts, “I did it for you kid!”

“Clearly your method didn’t work out.” Gaipa stares, flat.

Mrs. Hong grins, “But yours did, how’d you do it?”

Alan gets to see how Gaipa talks with his mom like this, sitting and watching the two go at it like little kids. He has to admit, he is thoroughly enchanted. Gaipa does not leave out a single detail once he gets going.

But half way through Alan notices something, “Wait,” Alan shakes his head, “all that time you—you were chasing me?” The park and the stairs and the mailbox. The hospital .

“What?” Gaipa blinks, “I liked you.” He says, like he’s innocent.

Alan shakes his head. That’s hotter than it should be. It’s odd. It’s also reassuring. Gaipa likes him too, Gaipa chased him. Gaipa liked him so much that he put himself in Alan’s life outside of his peripheral vision, just often enough for Alan to act like he did something by interacting with him. It’s, smart. And Gaipa doesn’t seem to find it so strange.

Alan wonders if he did this with his ex crush. Did that man interact with Gaipa like Alan did? Did he invite him into his life? Did he try to incorporate himself into Gaipa’s? Alan hopes not, but then Alan wonders how he couldn’t . Gaipa is, odd, how can anyone ignore oddity?

Alan’s hand finds Gaipa’s under the table, comfortable and safe with the way Gaipa wraps his fingers around his, an eye sent his way but otherwise unbothered. Alan watches the way he talks with Mrs. Hong and Alan wonders how he can ever feel lonely again.

The weekend is over, the absurdity of Mrs. Hong being Gaipa’s mom has worn off and they’ve, thoroughly, discussed the events that both have missed in each others life. Like, Mrs. Hong crashing Alan’s reservation and how long Gaipa waited in the mall hoping to run into Alan. It was all very informative and, exploratory. Alan enjoyed it.

But now it’s Monday and Monday is, exhausting. Especially when there’s been a mixup in clientele scheduling and suddenly Alan has 4 meetings back to back and misses his lunch over it. The receptionist could do nothing but bow her head in apology. Alan can do nothing but sigh and close his car door, slumping over his steering wheel.

Alan’s finally clocked out and feeling particularly stressed. He wants to talk about it. He wants to talk about how this isn’t the first time that receptionist has fucked up his schedule. He wants to talk about how clueless his third client was and how they requested the wrong officer for the job they needed done. He wants to complain about how cold his food was by the time he ate it.

With Wen he did, Alan would come home and complain and that was his mechanism, his way of unloading. But, that always bothered Wen. Alan wonders if it would bother Gaipa.

He thinks of watching that smile grow more tired over and over as all Alan does is talk about how shit his day was. Alan knows he wouldn’t have the energy to listen to Gaipa after that.

He doesn’t want to do that to Gaipa. He doesn’t really feel any need to complain either he just, wants to feel better. That’s where a new solution comes. What he needs is a distraction from work. He needs a de-stressor. Hanging out with Gaipa always makes him feel better, he thinks. He calls him.

Gaipa picks up on the second ring, “Alan?”

“Do you want to go the mall?”

A beat passes, “Absolutely.” Alan turns the wheel and heads home.

Alan leaves Gaipa to getting ready, hearing the dial click dead. He turns up the radio and passes the green light. Alan could complain, he could , but work is meant to stay in his office so, he tries to shake it off. He picks up Gaipa from the building, waiting for him at the end of those stairs with a smile, and they go to the mall together.

Gaipa must be able to tell his mood, because the second they get in the car, he’s attentive, “Do you want to talk about it?”

Alan thinks about the offer, seriously. Then, he shakes his head, “Not really.” He already feels better after seeing Gaipa’s face, he thinks a little more of this and he’ll forget about work completely.

“Alright.” Gaipa smiles, “You sound like you need a smoothie.”

Alan’s cheeks go wide, “I could go for a smoothie.”

Gaipa smiles, “I’ll pay.”

Alan shakes his head, feeling the urge to resist but he knows he won’t win, “Okay,” it’s not a war, Gaipa just wants to do something nice for him, “You can pay.” Gaipa’s answering expression is enough for Alan’s ego anyway.

Alan parks on the top floor of the car park because Gaipa likes stairs, he says, but Alan finds his true intention is he wanted a cover to kiss him every landing they arrive to. Gaipa’s hand grabs his wrist and pulls him over behind the rail. Gaipa kisses his cheek, and then he finds his mouth. It’s bliss.

Gaipa swallows the sound of Alan’s satisfaction and giggles against his tongue. Alan craves the taste of his smile. “So this is why you like stairs.”

Gaipa grins, kissing him with his breath, “Don’t you like stairs too?”

Alan can’t suppress a smile like this, he has to admit it, “With you? Always.”

They make it to the entrance of the mall in 20minutes. The walk should’ve only taken 5. Alan doesn’t mind.

“So,” Gaipa hums, “Smoothies?” He asks with those dark round eyes.

Alan nods, “Smoothies.”

He lets Gaipa take the lead, dragging him around and taking short cuts through stores, pointing out cute outfits that Alan imagines Gaipa wearing only for Gaipa to turn around and say he meant Alan.

“I just think a crop top would look cute on you.” Gaipa says and Alan doesn’t choke but he does hesitate on the thought.

“Really?” He asks, a smile beginning to grow teasing, “You can just cut one of my shirts then.”

Gaipa laughs, “You really trust me with scissors near your button downs?”

Alan shrugs a shoulder, pleased with the way Gaipa holds onto his arm, taking him from place to place.

They arrive at the smoothie shop. Gaipa’s smile grows giddy. Alan watches as Gaipa bounds over to the display, juicers pre-mixed and advertised as refreshing. Gaipa can’t seem to choose.

“We’re gonna need all 4.” He sounds so sure.

“We can’t get all 4.” Alan tells him.

Gaipa looks over, “Why not?”

Alan shakes his head, “We don’t need it.”

Gaipa sticks out his bottom lip, “I just said we did, need, Alan. It’s need.”

“Who’s gonna drink it all?” Alan asks.

Gaipa’s chest puffs, “I will.”

Alan raises a brow, “I’ll let you buy me a smoothie and you can have some of it. Get two flavors you like.”

Gaipa perks up, “Really? You’ll even let me pay, seriously?”

Alan nods, “If it makes you happy.”

Gaipa smiles, “You make me happy.”

Alan feels the burn in his face, he also feels the butterflies in his stomach and the degree of giddy that Gaipa looks. God, that smile does things to him. Alan has to look away, but he can’t. He smiles back. Gaipa preens.

Alan watches Gaipa place the order, two smoothies of different flavors that Alan’s never heard of. Gaipa looks so happy. Alan is content.

Once Gaipa secures the smoothies, he comes over to Alan, shoulder bumping shoulder. Gaipa takes sips out of both. Alan, waiting his turn, manages to steal a sip from one straw while the other is occupied.

“Peppermint?” Alan deduces.

Gaipa’s cheeks lift, “My chapstick.”

Alan hums, “So that’s what I tasted earlier.” Alan thinks of the stairs.

Gaipa grins, “Mhm!”

Alan doesn’t steal a kiss in public, but he thinks about it. Gaipa looks like he is too. What a shame they came to the mall, Alan thinks for a moment. But that thought reminds him why they did and he recognizes in that moment that he’d forgotten all about it. But now that he’s remembered, well, it’s a bit of a bummer.

Gaipa doesn’t let it last. He grabs his arm, smoothies in both hands, and points to a shop on his right. “That way.” He says, and waits for Alan to take the lead.

God, it’s beyond. Alan is struck by him.

And Alan delivers whatever Gaipa wants. They head into any shop Gaipa points at. Alan threatens the concept of buying anything Gaipa looks at, but Gaipa is smarter than Alan and he moves on faster than Alan can think. Gaipa doesn’t have to after all, he just feels, and he smiles and Alan feels like smiling too. Maybe thinking isn’t all there is.

Alan wants to try out feeling, and with Gaipa? That’s the easiest thing in the world.

Eventually, they end up wandering into the “suit and tie store” as Gaipa dubs it.

Gaipa, upon entering the first isle, says, “I think you need another paisley suit.”

Alan smiles, “Is this you asking me on a date?” He sips from the leftovers of Gaipa’s smoothie.

“You’re free on Sundays,” Gaipa grins, “I know that much.”

“I could be free on a Friday if you ask me in advance.” Alan tells him, watching the way Gaipa walks through the store. His hand touches everything.

“We’re going to that restaurant you went with my mother.” Gaipa tells him, “I want my date back.” He brushes a hand over a plaid blazer and makes a face.

Alan laughs, “Okay,” he smiles, “I’ll take you there,” it’s a promise, “I’ll make a reservation for Friday.”

Gaipa smiles, “I’ll pick out your tie.” And he does, he heads straight for the tie rack.

The apartment door opens at 8am, Mrs. Hong has decided to forego knocking for the duration that Alan has seemed to stay over. It only ever happens when Alan is here, in the kitchen making breakfast in a night shirt and boxers.

“You’ve got to stop walking in like this.” Alan greets, not once looking away from the stove, porridge nearly done.

“Just invite me in for breakfast already.” Mrs. Hong grumbles, coming in to gripe for something yummy. She smiles at the empty sink, “The apartment always looks so nice when you’re over.”

Alan shrugs, “I like to clean.”

“That’s a good thing with Gaipa.” Mrs. Hong muses.

Alan smiles, “It is.”

Mrs. Hong goes quiet and Alan has to turn over to see why. She’s smiling, real wide. “I’m so glad,” she says, “I am so glad.” Then she walks away cryptically. Alan just shakes his head. So is he, so is he.

Once the stove is done, Alan shuts off the flame. He passes Mrs. Hong sitting at the new breakfast table Alan sort of bullied Gaipa into buying, and sets down his coffee mug as he goes.

Gaipa’s door is still shut, meaning he’s still sleeping. Last time Alan was in there Gaipa had blinked awake, sleepily grabbing onto his waist and asking him where he was going. He’d fallen right back asleep after Alan had coaxed him with the idea of fresh food the next time he opens his eyes.

Alan opens the door gently, careful not to startle Gaipa. And there he is, tangled among bed sheets and morning light. His hair is fluffy, his cheeks a bit red from moving them against pillows. Gaipa’s a deep sleeper. Alan can never resist an image with Gaipa like this.

He comes over to Gaipa’s side, sitting down by his legs and watching his presence slowly become known. Gaipa moves in his sleep, waist twitching as his body turns, right into Alan’s body. Gaipa makes a sound, a noise like he knows who it is and has been looking for a long time for.

“Hon,,ey,,,,” Gaipa murmurs, turning his nose into Alan’s side, hands coming up to grab at his shirt. Gaipa smiles, rubbing his cheek into his thigh, “Hi ‘oney.” Gaipa sighs, happy.

“Hi,” Alan smiles, hand carding through Gaipa’s fluffy morning hair. He likes the way Gaipa leans into it when he scratches behind his ear, like Montow. “Mrs. Hong is at the breakfast table.”

“Oh?” Gaipa mumbles, eyes hesitant to open, comfortable among his bed sheets, “Ma’s over for brea’fast?”

Alan hums, “She is.” He touches the skin of Gaipa’s cheek, finding his nose and neck and taking in the sight of Gaipa’s slow mornings.

“Does ‘at mean I have to g’t up an’ greet ‘er?” Gaipa yawns halfway through his sleepy mumbling.

Alan smiles, “It does, but she probably won’t mind waiting with Montow for a bit while you get your yawns in.”

Gaipa’s sleepy smile grows. Even with his eyes closed he smiles just the same. Alan watches Gaipa fight with sleep, his bed dragging him under covers. Gaipa twitches like he’s going to get up, only to soften and sink. Alan kisses him, it’s the only way to energize him.

“I smell.” Gaipa says, not refusing a single kiss.

Alan pets his shoulder, “I like your smell.”

Gaipa huffs a laugh, turning into Alan’s hands, “You’re odd.”

Alan shakes his head, “No, you.”

Gaipa finally blinks, eyes peeling back to look up at Alan. “You are so odd.” He whispers, looking amused and awed at the same time.

Alan smiles, “It’s why I like you.”

Gaipa laughs, grabbing him by the sides and dragging him into bed. Alan laughs as he goes, trying to evade wandering hands finding themselves up his shirt. Gaipa’s excuse is to tickle, but Gaipa’s motive is, well there’s a hand on his chest and another on his ass. Alan thinks he can guess.

“You’re mom is waiting for us.” Alan tells Gaipa, holding him by his neck to kiss his face.

Gaipa whines, “She’s always there. What happened to me moving out and such?”

Alan shakes his head, “She just likes you.”

Gaipa shakes his, “She’s only here for you.” He says, sudden and true as anything.

Alan smiles, “Alright, maybe a little for me. But, she’s your mom. She loves you, we’ve got to be there for that.”

Gaipa smiles, falling back with a sleepy sigh, “Alright, I believe your logic is sound. Carry me there.”

Alan giggles, “Don’t ask for what you don’t want.” He wastes no time in picking Gaipa up under the ankles, reveling in the giggles torn from Gaipa’s chest. They laugh and tease all the way to the kitchen table.

“Energetic as always boys?” Mrs. Hong bats her lashes as she sips from the coffee Alan had made himself. It’s fine, she needed it more anyway. He’s got his energy for the day in his arms.

He’s got his energy for the day in his arms.

“You two are just so cute.” Mrs. Hong good, “So glad Gaipa found a man to put up with his late morning tendencies.”

“I thought he was a morning person but I’m starting to suspect.” Alan smiles.

Gaipa grumbles, “I am when I have a goal.” He slides out of Alan’s arms with a practiced ease, “Like opening up Ma’s shop.”

“Or stalking me on runs at 5am?” Alan adds.

Gaipa sends him a side eye, smile beginning to form, “That too.”

Mrs. Hong shakes her head, “Too cute.” She says, eyes sparkling as she holds that mug in her hands. “Come on everybody, sit down, share this meal with this old woman. Alan it smells delicious.”

Alan smiles, “Thank you, I went grocery shopping.”

Mrs. Hong hums, “Oh, so that’s why you were able to cook something edible in this apartment.”

“Ma!” Gaipa whines.

“You know it’s true Gaipa!” Mrs. Hong defends.

Alan shakes his head, touching Gaipa’s fingers beneath the table and feeling the soft pad of thumb twine with his. “It’s a little true.” Alan whispers. That hand’s grip goes deadly.

Luckily Gaipa’s still tired and he’s a bit like Montow when trying to be aggressive, it ends up being more cute than anything. And Gaipa quickly gives up, head falling to Alan’s shoulder, curling his side close. Alan does him a favor and moves his chair over so he doesn’t fall.

“Eat before you fall asleep.” Alan chides gently, making a plate up for Gaipa.

Gaipa hums, a nod of his head and a sound. The two of them listen to Mrs. Hong carry the conversation for the entire meal.

“Alan, Honey?” Gaipa’s voice comes from the bedroom, “Do you know what happened to my sock?” He asks, voice sounding closer as he walks out from behind the doorway.

Alan hums, “Which one?” He asks, flipping through the book he brought over from next door. He’s started leaving it on Gaipa’s shelf.

“The cat one,” Gaipa says, looking around the living room as he comes over, “Montow’s birthday gift to me.”

“Oh,” uh oh, “check the basket.” Alan’s getting the creeping suspicion he might’ve washed it with the wrong load.

Gaipa comes back out with a sock that sure enough, looks a bit, wrung out.

Alan’s face falls, “I’m so sorry.”

Gaipa’s still looking at the deformed sock, holding it up to the light before, he laughs. “It kind of looks like Montow now.” He says.

Alan gets up, “I’m so sorry Gaipa, I didn’t—“

Gaipa turns, “Sh-Sh-Sh,” he finds himself in Alan’s arms, rubbing his chest as he passes, “You’re okay, not your fault. I would like you to make it up to me though,”

Alan nods immediately, “I’ll buy you a new pair—“

Gaipa shakes his head, “Can’t buy sentiment Honey,” Gaipa smiles, “But we can make new ones. Want to help me wrestle Montow into a cat harness and make him pick out a new pair?”

Alan looks shiftingly to the cat sunbathing. As if he knows what they’re talking about, his head rises. He gives them a blank stare.

That’s not going to be easy. Alan agrees all the same, “I’ll do anything to make you happy My Heart.”

Gaipa smiles, “I know you would.” and it really is odd. Alan wouldn’t predict a thing different.

They make plans to go to the mall on a Thursday evening after Alan’s finished work and Gaipa’s finished his lunch with Mrs. Hong. Only thing is, Alan’s schedule seems to have a kink in it. Alan is standing inside their building by the bottom of the stairs, checking his watch periodically as he looks for any sign of Gaipa. He wasn’t in his apartment and he hasn’t picked up his phone.

It isn’t until Alan gets a short message, a text, “On my way!” That Alan releases a breath. He was close to declaring him missing and going to the police. But he’s on his way, so Alan waits.

Alan watches passerby’s continue down the stairs passing him by the main entrance. Alan tries to ignore the sense of awareness he has over his body and his hands and how he looks, like they’re all watching him when he knows they couldn’t care less. But he’s in public, alone, and that makes him a bit antsy.

Public is always more fun with another person, you can focus your attention on that person rather than on the public. It’s fine, Alan’s only so conscious because he’s waiting, usually he doesn’t care. It’s just because, he’s waiting. Alan checks his watch again. Gaipa’s running late.

Alan sighs, a sound from the depths of his chest. It releases a bit of the tension but it just makes him feel, bad. He can’t fault Gaipa, or at least he doesn’t want to. He knows there’s a logical explanation for why he’s late, and really no one’s as much of a stickler for time as Alan is so he can’t expect Gaipa to be right on the dot, but, time goes by.

Alan doesn’t know how long he ends up waiting, just long enough. Gaipa finally arrives, but it feels like no victory.

“Hey!” Gaipa calls the moment he arrives through those doors, panting as he jogs over, “I’m so sorry I’m late!” And he looks it, his eyes are shaken and his brows tilted. Gaipa looks a bit scared, or just sad and guilty.

Alan could say it was okay, knowing it’s not, knowing this has stressed him out the entire time he’s been waiting for Gaipa. But also, it’s Gaipa, he knows it wasn’t intentional. He could also let it go, it’s Gaipa. But he thinks Gaipa also knows how this has effected him and it’s while he’s thinking how to react that Gaipa comes up to him.

“Hey,” Gaipa breathes, he passes a hand over his heart, “It’s okay,” Alan’s sure he can feel it, “you can be upset with me.” Gaipa tells him, “I promise I’ll make it up to you.” He promises.

Alan nods, unsure what to say. “What will you do?”

Gaipa smiles, hearing the sadness in his voice, “Anything,” Gaipa tells him, “first, I’ll set more alarms and be more conscious of your schedule. Second, I’ll plan another event for me to be early to so I can give you back your time,” Alan nods, “how’s that sound?”

Alan smiles, grabbing Gaipa’s arm and leading him behind the staircase, “Kiss me and I’ll be alright for the rest of the day. Then we can plan tomorrow.”

Gaipa smiles, and he kisses the life out of him.

“Alright, now we really are going to be late.” Gaipa says, pulling away to breathe.

Alan shakes his head, “Change of plans, let’s be a bit later.” He leans in for another kiss. He can feel Gaipa’s smile against his mouth.

A moment passes, tangled up just like that. It’s Gaipa who brings them back.

“So,” Gaipa pulls away, breathless, “Ready to help me wrangle a lion into a cat bag?”

Alan grins, feeling thoroughly kissed in the best  possible way and running on that high, “Let’s go get him.”

They race up the stairs like children. Montow must be able to hear them because when they open up the door, Montow is nowhere to be seen—hiding. Alan and Gaipa share a look and Alan sighs.

“Alright, I’ll get the cart treats.” It only takes 30 minutes of coaxing, an impromptu cat nail trimming session, and a bucket of sweat to get Montow safe and situated into the hand bag Gaipa bought. It has a Lion’s mane around the cat hole where Montow’s head peeks out.

“He looks so much more gentle now.” Gaipa sighs, leaning back into Alan’s chest, unable to support his own weight anymore.

Alan hums, trying to breathe while he too sinks into the couch cushions. “He’s a terror, for no reason. ”

Gaipa’s laugh shakes his whole body, Alan’s too. It’s so odd, Alan wouldn’t trade it for the world.

Montow likes the pet store, Alan learns. Montow just doesn’t like not being able to touch everything in the pet store.

“Is there where you got your last pair of socks?” Alan asks, carrying the demon as he tries to jump out at the cat scratchers.

“Yep,” Gaipa smiles, looking down the isle, “I got us matching pairs, Montow wouldn’t let go of them.”

Alan turns an eye to Montow. He could see that.

Their mission is declared a success when Montow meows politely at a pair of orange and white socks with paws on them. And then he nearly strangles himself trying to fit through the hole in the bag. Alan decides to carry him home in his arms the whole way back to the car.

Alan tried handing him off to Gaipa, so he can drive, but Montow is stuck, glued, clipped claws digging into his lap.

Alan sighs, “Here,” he says, handing his keys over, “You drive. I’ll hold him.”

Gaipa blinks, “You, trust me with your car?”

Alan blinks back, “Of course,” he says, “I trust you with anything.”

Gaipa doesn’t seem to know how to respond, but Alan sees him fighting a smile. “Alright.” Gaipa whispers, sliding into the drivers seat.

Gaipa’s a really cautious driver Alan discovers, or maybe he’s just cautious with Alan’s car. He tries his hardest to not slam the break when lights change, he slows down at least a block before the intersection and somehow makes it to the white line without running out of momentum. It’s actually so smooth that Montow falls asleep.

“You should drive me to work.” Alan muses, feeling sleepy himself.

Gaipa chuckles, “Alright.” He says.

Alan blinks, “Hm?”

“I could.” Gaipa offers, “Whenever, if you’d like. And I won’t be late like I was today.”

Alan, doesn’t know how to respond, just—he bites back a wild smile. “Alright.” He says, “Alright.”

Montow is full of energy by the time they enter room 100. “Maybe sleeping in the car wasn’t such a good idea.” Gaipa muses, watching his beloved cat throw itself into a couch cushion and then a wall in the same burst of speed.

“All I know is I am not letting Montow drive my car.” Alan sets down the cat bag on the coffee table.

Gaipa laughs, coming to join him. “You’re staying tonight aren’t you?” He asks, a bit conscious.

Alan nods, “If you’ll have me.”

Gaipa smiles, “Always.” He sits next to Alan on the couch and turns into the hand that presses into the back of his neck. Alan sits there and passes the time with massaging knots out of Gaipa’s spine. Montow comes over to do the same to Alan’s shoulder. It’s a good thing they trimmed his claws.

Alan’s having a bad day, just real rough, a tough day that he wants nothing to do with. Not even a smoothie could cure this feeling. Really all he wants is to go home, home . He thinks about it all the way up those stairs, all the way down that hall. He looks at room 101.

Alan turns on his heel. He wants to go home.

He knocks on that door; room 100. He stands, briefcase in hand, tie strung tight, he’s choking. A beat passes then it creaks, that door, “Alan?” Gaipa.

Gaipa’s smile widens at the sight of him.

Alan doesn’t say a thing, just finds himself in Gaipa’s arms and drops his briefcase. “Kiss it better please.” He whispers into the crook of his neck.

Gaipa hums, “Okay,” he turns his cheek and holds his head, “Of course,” he says, and he kisses him. Gaipa kisses his hair, his ear—it’s loud—his face which he finds tucked away. Gaipa kisses him all over his face, Alan gives him his mouth.

The door shuts behind him as he crawls into Gaipa’s space, Gaipa pulls him in. His mouth is soft and comforting and communicates that he’s allowed, he’s welcome. Alan could kiss forever. He thinks he does. The sky blends when he breathes.

Gaipa pets his head, Alan’s ear above his heart. “Rough day, hm?” Gaipa asks.

Alan gives a noncommittal answer, perfectly content with laying still and breathing. Alan can hear Gaipa’s smile from here, like it tugs at his chest.

“I hear you,” Gaipa hums. He pets his head, gentle fingers brushing the pads beneath the skin of his ear. It sends a tingly feeling each time. Alan understands Montow.

A moment passes, many moments. The moon fades and darkness gives to a yellow lamp. Montow has joined them, sleeping above on the back of the couch. Alan continues to listen to the beat of Gaipa’s heart, to the sound of his breathing, to the little hums he makes here and there as he tries not to send himself to sleep in the mass of comfort.

Then Alan, through Gaipa’s sternum, hears him speak, “Move in with me.” Says Gaipa.

“Yes.” Answers Alan.

And that’s it, that is the final and only reason Alan moves out of room 101.

Alan turns, anticipation and expectation nourished by the very sight of him, Gaipa. He lays there with a smile, turns to him and crawls into his chest, looking up. His eyes are so wide. Alan has to kiss him. Gaipa kisses back.

“Hi Honey.” Gaipa kisses into his skin.

“Hello Lover.” Alan is so odd around Gaipa. He was never like this with Wen. He couldn’t be more fixated.

Winter has just begun,

Alan knows because it’s cold and Gaipa’s skin has never felt any better. The man runs like a boiler all on his own and in summer, it’s not a preferable trait but, Alan’s desired him all the same. Whether they’re sweating between each other or huddled with the excuse of Christmas upon them, it’s all the same, Alan and Gaipa, together. It’s not an oddity at all. What a comfort.

Or at least Alan thinks so. This room that always tends to grow cold in winter has become just a bit more comforting actually. Maybe it’s because he’s moved out of that apartment with the open window and the odd number but, ever since he did, he’s felt better. There are new things to like about his new place. For one, it starts with a predictable number.

Apartment room 100 is not the last room on the last floor of the last staircase in the building, but the second to last; which is a fascinating oddity. Apartment room 100 also has a pet, a cat who doesn’t mind staying home all day, alone, cuddled up in the couch seat. Occasionally, the cat will steal the tie Alan takes off fresh from work; it’s an odd cat. Alan likes it very much.

There are many things to like about room 100, other than the fact that it really doesn’t feel like just a room nor that it holds out the winter cold so well. But Alan’s favorite, most definitely, is because he has a roommate, a partner. And he doesn’t have to worry about an empty chair or a lonely breakfast. Nor does he have to worry about being locked out of his house with no one to let him in. And Alan never worries about coming home to a lonely man, never once, because Alan comes home early. Their schedules are so in sync.

Alan comes home to a grey cat and a problem to solve and, “Honey, I’m home!” Is the most predictable song of all.