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🖌🖌🖌
Nay wakes up to the feeling of his head wanting to break in half.
He groans, the itch creeping up his throat making him gag as he attempts to sit up. With eyes refusing to open, he extends his right hand towards the side of his bed, roaming aimlessly until it bumps into the wooden frame of his side table. He grabs the phone lying on top of it, and within a few seconds, he manages to force his eyes open to check the time.
Ten in the morning.
Another guttural wail leaves his throat before he unlocks the phone and checks the recent calls. Ten missed calls. All within the past fifteen minutes and from one person. The same person whose name is now flashed on his screen.
“Nay? Where are you? You missed the first class,” the voice on the other line exclaims, the concern in their voice prominent.
“Nuea…” Nay whispers, instantly cringing at how horribly hoarse his own voice had become, “I think I’m dying.”
Nay hears a thud on the other line, followed by a yelp and a barrage of quiet apologies. He figures his utterly clumsy best friend had smacked someone with his painting canvas while walking through the hallway again.
“Huh?! What do you mean you’re dying?!” screams Daonuea a few seconds later, and Nay had to pull the phone inches away just to keep his ear safe from suddenly becoming deaf.
“For fuck’s sake, pipe it down, will you?”
“Don’t give me that! Are you saying you’re sick?!”
Nay can tell that the anxiety in his best friend’s tone had tripled, and understandably so. It’s a known fact in their small friend group of three that Nay lives a pretty healthy lifestyle and thus, it is rare for him to get sick. In fact, apart from the hangovers he’d get after drinking parties (which he rarely attends anyways), he has never been sick since he got into college.
But even the strongest of immune systems would crumble when you’re a college student raging through a storm called finals season. Nay has been powering through the past two weeks of endless exams and art workshops with two hours of sleep a day, ounces of bottled caffeine, and a tower of boxed takeout food— all unhealthy choices that are finally coming back to bite him in the ass.
“So where are you? Are you at your condo? Did you call your brothers?” probes Daonuea without missing a breath, the engine noises in the background hinting that he was already settled in his car.
“No,” Nay whimpers as he switches to lie on his side, “Koh’s in charge of the repair shop while our parents are away, and Win’s busy with band practice. Don’t want to trouble them.”
The sigh his best friend lets out is so drawn out it could practically pull at his ears from within the phone.
“Always trying to be the big, strong guy you’re not,” remarks Daonuea, clicking his tongue in disapproval, and frankly, Nay has no energy nor right to rebut that statement, because it was somewhat true.
Being born as a middle child, Nay grew up in between a rock and a hard place— that is his big brother Koh and his younger brother Win.
Now, don’t get him wrong. At their core, Koh and Win are people with big hearts who Nay would never trade for anything, but their brash impulsiveness and anger issues often cause them to clash about almost anything imaginable — toys, games, automobiles, puberty, girls (and boys later on), and most recently, career prospects — and Nay finds himself always having to take the role of a mediator, making sure the two never end up with their hands on each other’s throats.
And while Nay takes pride in his ability to maintain peace in the house and keep his siblings in their place, it inadvertently created a persona for him— a facade of a strong, independent child who should never be a burden and a cause of worry for his family.
“You have to keep your siblings in check,” was his parents’ daily mantra and eventually his sole purpose in the household.
And the harm and loneliness of it all did not register in his brain until he went beyond the confines of his home and began navigating through his post-puberty years, where he would encounter a myriad of people from all walks of life and figure out that life should be more than just being an intermediary-on-call in your own house, that it’s also about making mistakes and being a bother to others once in a while, and not being an invisible shadow only to be noticed when you are needed. It scratches at his conscience at times like these, when he’s clearly in a vulnerable position but refuses to admit it, even when other people are already shoving it into his face.
Another long sigh from the other line pulls Nay from his train of thought.
“All right,” exclaims Daonuea, and a whirr of an engine is heard again in the background, “If your brothers aren’t coming, then I am.”
Nay frowns, about to retort and reject the offer but his best friend quickly cuts him off, “And don’t even think of telling me not to. I am heading there now,” Daonuea insists and Nay can only accept defeat.
He knows his best friend means business when he uses that tone, so he just hums an unwilling noise of approval before ending the call and going back to sleep, intentionally ignoring the text message notification that had just flashed on his screen seconds before he locked it.
🖌🖌🖌
It’s about an hour later when Nay wakes up again, but this time, it’s rummaging noises coming from outside his bedroom that stir him from his slumber.
Is Daonuea here already? he wonders when his ears register the unmistakable sounds of footsteps approaching the door.
“You got here quick—” his words falter into a halt when the door opens, wide enough to give him a full view of his visitor, and the racking ache in his head suddenly seems minuscule compared to the pounding in his chest when he discerns who exactly it was standing behind his door.
“Sean?”
Despite the mask covering the lower half of his unexpected visitor’s face, he could see the wide grin it breaks into at the mention of his name.
“May I come in?” carefully implores Sean from the narrow space between the door and its frame, his index finger peeking through the seam to point toward the inside of the room.
For a second, Nay wanted to tell him no because fuck, his room is an absolute mess— used clothes, stacks of papers, leftover snacks, cluttered art supplies scattered all over the floor. Heck, he is an absolute mess— had not showered (let alone brushed his teeth) since this morning, is in his most hideous loungewear (since all his better clothes were in the laundry pile), has the most horrific dark circles from pulling all-nighters.
Yeah, definitely not appealing, and Nay would rather die than not be appealing to Sean.
But when there’s a pair of shimmering crescent-shaped eyes staring at him expectantly, his resolve instantly melts like ice on a hot summer day, too afraid to break the hope ingrained in that gaze.
Sending a nod of approval, Nay retreats into his cat-patterned duvet as his surprise visitor makes his way inside the room. He has no clue whether this new wave of heat coursing through his body is still from his fever or from the sheer radiance cast by the new presence in his space, the jolly man who just happens to have his university polo flayed open to the second button, the tan skin underneath peeking like a freshly-opened mocha bar—
“Nay? Are you listening?”
Nay blinks, sending himself back to reality, and turns an embarrassing shade of red, because he was clearly not paying attention at all.
He sees Sean sigh into his face mask before settling on the floor right beside the bed. He pushes down on the bed and reaches out his arm to press the back of his right hand against Nay’s forehead.
“You’re burning up,” Sean remarks, his eyebrows meeting at the top of his nose, face morphing into a contorted look of concern, “We need to get your temperature down—”
“Why are you here?”
That’s probably the rudest thing Nay could ask someone who cared enough to check on him when he’s practically suffering alone in bed, but it didn’t seem to offend Sean in the slightest. In fact, it’s almost like he expected the question.
Sean leans back, straightening up in his space on the floor.
“Well, you weren’t answering my texts so I went to your building but I couldn’t find you,” he explains but pauses to get up from where he was seated and walk into the en suite bathroom.
At those words, Nay’s mind flashes back to the text message notifications he purposefully ignored minutes ago, a pang of guilt hitting him like a dump truck running at full speed. Even though there was no hint of anger in Sean’s tone, he could tell the other was disturbed by the unusual silent treatment, at least enough to make him visit his building.
In the midst of being lost in his thoughts, he sees Sean walk out of the bathroom, a small basin in his hand. It had been filled with water and a hand towel is swimming in it. After finding his place on the floor again, Sean wrings out the towel and begins wiping Nay’s face. Nay nestles into the touch, basking in the warmth of the towel and the comforting strokes of Sean’s hand, an action that evidently pulls an endeared smile out of the other.
“Then when I was passing by the parking lot, Daonuea came up to me out of nowhere and started talking about how you were sick and he was gonna visit you but he had plans with P’Fah and he didn’t know what to do. Next thing I knew, he had rushed off in his car and I was left with bags of medicine and a spare key card to your place.”
Nay can’t help but roll his eyes as he imagined the scenario. Leave it to his best friend to forget his appointments when it matters most.
“And that…” continues Sean, the towel he was using to clean Nay’s face now back into the basin and getting another soak before being wrung dry again and folded neatly over Nay’s forehead, “...is how I ended up trespassing in your condo.”
He didn’t think of it at first, probably because of the shame from having his (literal and figurative) dirty laundry exposed, not to mention the stench he’s likely emitting from not having showered yet, but it does eventually Nay like a brick to the head.
It’s eleven in the morning. Sean’s classes today do not finish until three in the afternoon. Sean is in his condo when he’s supposed to be at school. That plus the unironed uniform he’s wearing, his messy and disheveled hair, the beads of sweat dripping from his forehead and neck. It’s safe to say Sean headed over here in a panic right after finding out he was sick.
There goes another guilt brick to the head.
“You didn’t have to rush over here, you know,” Nay mumbles apologetically, but Sean only looks back at him with genuine confusion in his orbs.
“Why wouldn’t I? My boyfriend is sick. Of course, I would rush over here.”
And the boiling pangs of conscience rising in his mind simmers down and his heart instantly grows tenfold, his chest physically aching because holy crap, that’s right—
Boyfriend. Sean is his boyfriend .
It’s outright embarrassing how he still blushes at the word when it’s been four months since he and Sean crossed the friend zone and began dating. Maybe because it’s his first-ever serious relationship and everything is new to him. No matter if it’s something simple like them sitting on the sofa next to each other fighting over popcorn, or grandiose like Sean waiting outside his classroom with a box of chocolates and a giant stuffed kitty doll, or flustering like when he’s writhing in pain and pleasure from having Sean buried deep inside of him, every second they’re together has been nothing but a series of bizarre to him— lovingly, delightfully so.
Sean’s chuckle grabs his attention away from his mulling thoughts.
“Are you turning red because of the fever or…?” his boyfriend asks, the teasing glint in his eyes causing more blood to rush to Nay’s face. He takes his hand from under the duvet and delivers a slap to Sean’s arm.
“Shut up,” he retorts, pathetically, and the other just laughs at his poor attempt to fight back.
Nay then pauses, his hand settling on top of his boyfriend’s arm and staying there, and starts mindlessly drawing circles on it. Sean’s texts, which he ignored moments ago, resurface in his head, along with a thought he is hesitant to voice out.
“What is it?” questions Sean, the sudden silence getting to him, and Nay takes a deep breath before answering.
“I’m sorry I didn’t answer your texts. I just didn’t want to be a bother.”
With half of Sean’s face hidden by the face mask, Nay finds his anxiety brewing, both curious and scared to know how the other truly looks underneath that cover. And the following words Sean utters only drive his fear further.
“Yeah, I figured. You’re always like that.”
Nay grabs onto his duvet for dear life, his nails digging into his palms as his hold tightens.
“It’s just…” he hesitates but the need to explain himself takes over, “You have exams and I didn’t want to get in the way. I know how important they are to you.”
Ah, it’s this again , Nay muses as he registers the words spilled from his mouth.
Indeed, it strikes again, in full technicolor, his ridiculous tendency to place little to no importance on himself, stemming from an upbringing that forced him to grow up quicker than his siblings, to be the better and middle person for them, to put his family’s peace first and his inner peace last, to view himself as the shadow whose existence and value is tied to others.
But mayhaps it can’t be helped this time, not when this whole ordeal centers around Sean, because Sean is, and this is no exaggeration, the best thing to ever happen in Nay’s life— handsome, smart, kind to everyone, friendly even with the street gangsters, communicate his feelings well, is great in bed, and has so much love to give.
The last thing Nay wants is to lose all of this, lose Sean by exposing his weakness, by revealing that he doesn’t always have his shit together, that he also neglects his well-being once in a while, that he has days where he cannot find in himself the oh-so-adorable boyfriend Sean fawns over.
“You’re more important to me, though.”
Hearing those words, however, it dawns on Nay, that mayhaps it’s not only his value that he underestimates but also his boyfriend’s capacity to love, because embedded in Sean’s eyes right now is nothing but raw and pure affection, as if Nay had plucked the stars and given it to him on a silver platter.
Sean lifts himself off the floor and lands on his two knees, leaning fully on the bed to slither his hand under Nay’s ear and caress his reddening cheeks.
“Exams, I have plenty. An adorable boyfriend?” Sean muses, thumbs pinching the bridge of Nay’s nose, “...Just you.”
And Nay is so used to being shoved to the side, being the giver and never the receiver, being the middle ground and never the heaven, that when someone walks into his life and finally showers him with the attention and care he has barely gotten throughout his life, it makes his stomach churn in the most inexplicable way.
“And if my one and only needs help, you’re sure as hell I’ll be running to him, exams be damned.”
Nay’s heart swells once more. Damn , Sean is truly the best thing to happen in his life.
He wishes it was him who had a mask over his face instead of Sean because he is struggling to hide the smile his face is threatening to break into. So instead, he turns his head away from Sean’s line of sight and slides himself deeper into the duvet.
Sean doesn’t seem to mind, based on the amused chuckle his ears pick up from beneath the covers, “Did I make you shy?”
“As if,” hisses Nay, the intensity he intended to deliver with those words getting muted seconds later by the growling of his stomach, and he bites his lips in shame when he hears another teasing laugh.
Sean pulls at the duvet, easily taking it off to peek inside and lock gazes with him, his charming smile triggering more chaos in his brain.
“I brought some porridge. Let me heat it up real quick, then you should take your medicine.”
It’s not like Nay had a choice to refuse when his stomach’s already making decisions for him. After a begrudgingly-given nod from him, Sean disappears to the outside of his bedroom, and Nay lays back on the bed like all the energy had been sucked out of him.
He cannot remember the last time someone had been in his condo. After all, he and his friends would usually hang out only at Daonuea’s place or their favorite spots on campus. The idea of having a person, his boyfriend no less, coming over to his condo not only to hang out but to practically nurse him back to health, feels surreal to Nay who ordinarily only had himself as his own caretaker.
The butterflies in his stomach flutter as his bedroom door creaks open and gives him a perfect view of Sean in his kitchen, his motions paced but calm as he maneuvers around the area to complete his mission of preparing the meal. Nay snorts to himself when he sees Sean letting out a frustrated frown, most likely because he can’t find where the bowls are, and his face heats up when Sean catches him staring and sends him a flying kiss from behind the kitchen counter.
That flirt, he curses under his breath before letting out a vexed sigh. Is four months too early to say you want to marry someone? Probably. Yet Nay can’t help but pray to the heavens for him to have this view of Sean for the rest of his life.
That prayer sits at the tip of his tongue while Sean sets up his meal in bed. It lingers in his mind as Sean spoon-feeds him the porridge until the last drop. It flutters in the air while Sean guides him into drinking his medicine. And it ultimately takes over his body, urging him out of his post-meal drowsiness to hold onto Sean’s arm, preventing him from fully getting up from where he was seated beside him on the bed.
“Ah, fuck, sorry. I—”
“Want me to stay?”
Nay doesn’t know how Sean does it, has no idea how this man can just read him like an open book as if he wasn’t written in a language often unintelligible to common folks. Yet he does. To no fail. Reads him, studies him, comprehends him, accepts him. And if there was anyone who Nay could— should open up to, and be honest about his perfect imperfections and deepest desire, it had to be Sean.
So Nay does just that, shifts in his bed to make space, and lets his heart take the wheel, reaching both of his arms out to Sean like the spoiled child he never got to be growing up. He closes his eyes and feels himself breathe easier when the bed creaks beside him and a veil of warmth envelopes him like a blanket on a winter evening.
Sean fixes their position so that Nay’s head is lying comfortably on his arm while the other wraps around Nay’s shoulder to play with the hairs on his nape.
“Sweet dreams, love,” Sean whispers, planting a soft kiss on Nay’s forehead.
And this is the first time in a long while that Nay felt absolutely, undoubtedly, utterly loved.
🖌🖌🖌
Nay recalls it was Valentine’s Day.
Sean had messaged him the night prior asking if he was free. Apparently, there was a newly-opened cat cafe in the neighboring town that he wanted to check out. Nay, being the sucker for cats, agreed in a heartbeat, not really thinking anything of the invitation. After all, with Khabkluen and Daonuea dating, their friend groups have been convening more often, and Sean just happened to be the person Nay warmed up to the most. With their personalities and interests clicking, their relationship evolved quickly enough that they began meeting up on their own— library study sessions, movies at the cinema, cat cafe visits, even a spontaneous camping trip to the mountains once.
And despite what Daonuea and Pokpong would tell him many times, he refused to believe that there was any deeper meaning behind his growing closeness with Sean. Not even when Sean was giving him obvious signs. Not even when he himself was giving obvious signs. Not even when Sean had appeared in his condominium driveway on Valentine’s dressed in the most sparkling clothes he has ever seen the guy donned and his heart began thumping like a dance club speaker on maximum volume. Not even when they arrived at the cat cafe and the owner (who turned out to be Sean’s cousin) welcomed him like he was family and escorted them to a private room.
It wasn’t until an hour into the meal and Sean pulled out a huge bouquet of red roses along with the owner’s cat who had a sign saying ‘Will you be this poor guy’s boyfriend?’ hanging from her ruby-colored collar that Nay gave in. Sean had no intention of letting them hide their brewing romantic feelings for each other any longer, and really, how could he refuse?
“Using your cousin’s cat to confess is cheating,” Nay had whined, yet the smile on his face betrayed him.
Sean laughed, scratching his neck bashfully, “I figured if I confessed normally, you wouldn’t believe this was real.”
Indeed, even after four months, as he lays in his bed clad in Sean’s long arms, the other’s breath grazing the top of his hair ever so slightly, Nay still cannot reckon that this is the reality he’s living now. Taken in all forms by the guy who was just one of his best friend’s roommates but turned out to be the biggest plot twist in his life.
He wonders how his brothers would react when he finally tells them he’s dating someone and it’s also a guy, just like their lovers. Considering his older brother’s protectiveness and the nosiness of his younger brother, it’s bound to be a meetup filled with chaos, one that his boyfriend will most definitely pull through because he’s amazing like that, though he won’t ever admit it.
His parents’ reactions, however, are fairly easier to guess. After all, they never seemed interested in his matters. As long as he wasn’t causing trouble like his brothers often did, they just leave him be, letting him do whatever he wanted. And in hindsight, it may sound nice, but Nay would figure out later that it wasn’t a sign of trust or faith in him but of sheer indifference. They just couldn’t be bothered to care. His father is always busy doting on his older brother Koh, training him to take over their family’s shop, while his mother centers her time and affection around the youngest child Win.
In the end, Nay grew up always being left to his own devices, and while it helped train his independence, it also made him too independent, believing he does not and should not need the aid of others in his life.
A belief he is finally letting go of bit by bit, with the help of his lover who is more than willing to spoil him rotten.
“What are you grinning about?”
Nay’s journey down memory lane is put to a stop when he feels Sean squeezing his cheek. When did he wake up?
“Nothing,” Nay replies, closing his eyes instinctively when his boyfriend bumps their foreheads together.
“Hmm… Your temperature’s gone down,” utters Sean, audibly relieved and pleased, “How are you feeling?”
Nay touches the base of his neck with his hand. His throat does not seem as sore as it did hours ago, and his nose is not clogged anymore as well, “Much better.”
Sean hums in satisfaction, “Looks like the medicine worked.”
Nay wanted to say it was not just the medicine, that having Sean by his side likely worked more wonders than the tablets he just drank. After all, Sean always made things better for Nay.
But words just weren’t flowing and he could only resort to slipping his arms around his boyfriend’s waist and pulling him closer, something that was not met with any protest.
For the next few minutes, they remain in a lull, pressed against each other like they were peas in a pod. Nay ponders whether or not Sean having his mask still bore any significance when he had already spent half of the day stuck like glue with a sick person in a bacteria-infested bed.
Which reminds him…
“You really didn’t leave.”
He senses Sean moving in his place, the hand that was on his shoulder shifting to give gentle pats on the back of Nay’s head.
“Mm…” murmurs Sean, his chest echoing against Nay’s ear pressed against it, “You wanted me to stay.”
Nay buries his face into Sean’s nape, refusing to budge even when he is being pushed back, because he cannot afford to let his boyfriend see his face after hearing those words, not if he still wants to keep the tiny bit of dignity he has left.
It was after a while that Nay finds the urge to pull himself out of Sean’s grasp and off the bed.
“Where are you going?” Sean asks, confused.
Nay looks back at his boyfriend before pointing to his pajamas, “Gonna bathe. Feel sticky.”
A look of understanding flashes on his boyfriend’s face before he jumps out of the bed and heads over to where he is standing, just right outside his bathroom door.
“Need help?” probes Sean, his hands seizing Nay by the waist, and the playful wink he sends makes Nay slam his hands on his boyfriend’s shoulders.
“I don’t think you’ll be any help if you get in there,” scolds Nay, squeezing the other’s shoulders firmly before rushing to the bathroom, closing the door with a thud, and pressing on the lock.
Sean chuckles from the other side, “You didn’t have to lock the door, love.”
Nay rolls his eyes in exasperation before yelling a loud “Safety precaution!” from behind the door.
Throughout his bathing time, Sean had knocked on the door thrice— the first two times to check on him (because Nay had been awfully mute since settling in the bathtub and Sean was worried he had fainted), and the third time to ask if he could clean up the bedroom, which Nay instantly approved (because it’s easier to just let Sean do whatever he wants and it’ll save him from dealing with his own mess).
Halfway through drying himself and putting on his clothes, Nay hears the sound of a vacuum from the other side of the door, and he grins sheepishly at the domesticity of it all, of his boyfriend decluttering his room while he’s in the bath. He may be tightlipped about it, but he cherishes these wholesome moments with Sean very much.
Right as the vacuum sounds subside, Nay realizes the hand towel usually hanging from the wall next to the sink is missing. It’s probably the one Sean used earlier, he thinks, recalling that Sean had used a hand towel to wipe his face hours ago. He leans against the door and calls out to Sean, who immediately rushes over to him.
“Do you mind getting me a new hand towel?” yells Nay from inside the bathroom, “They’re in the third drawer on the right when you open the closet.”
“Got it!” yells Sean back, giving him the affirmative and quickly shuffling away.
Perhaps it’s the lingering drowsiness from a long sleep or the giddiness from having someone fetch things for him, but Nay does not register how bad of an idea it is to let Sean walk into his closet. It’s not until he hears the door to his closet creaking open that he remembers that that is inside the closet.
Oh, shit! he curses internally, and he scrambles to open the bathroom door, nearly tripping over his feet while running out of there as fast as he can.
“No, wait, let me get it myself—”
But it was too late. The door to the closet had been opened, and in front of it stood Sean, wide-eyed and in a daze. Nay quickly grabs onto his boyfriend, desperate to take his attention away but to no avail. The other only remains frozen in his spot.
Nay buries his head into his palms. Great. Just great. Way to go, idiot, he mentally scolds himself, as he threads his fingers through his hair (as if that will solve the issue at hand). It took him so much effort to keep that under wraps. Canceled dinners with his friends. Didn’t go back home for Koh’s birthday. Went as far as (nicely) forbidding Sean from visiting his condo during finals week.
All of that, just so he could keep that secret until the perfect time.
Yet it only took one day of being at the mercy of a fever (caused by a plethora of, frankly, wrong decisions he made along the way) for his surprise to fail miserably—
“Is that… a painting of me?”
Before Nay could spiral further into his dark thoughts, Sean turns around and looks at him, his index finger pointing to the large painted canvas in the middle of the closet.
The truth is, in between making art pieces for his major classes and studying for exams, Nay was also preoccupied with a special project— his present for Sean’s upcoming birthday.
Deciding on the perfect gift was borderline torturous for Nay, because not only did Sean’s birthday coincide with finals season, it was also the first time he will be celebrating with him as his boyfriend , not as one of the friends Daonuea brings along to drinking parties, so he wanted this to be as memorable for Sean as possible.
But Nay not only has his insecurities to pull him down, he is also very stubborn and hard to please, so any idea he or his friends came up with simply didn’t feel satisfying. He researched the most romantic places he could take Sean to— restaurants, amusement parks, the cat cafe Sean’s cousin owned, the mountains. He window-shopped for the fanciest gifts— flowers, jewelry, perfume. Yet nothing piqued his interest.
Until that one dinner date when he ranted about not getting a perfect grade on one of his assignments for a major class.
Typically, Nay doesn’t like bragging about his artworks to others, but his lofty goal in showing Sean his painting at the time was to prove a point, that his professor was being stingy and he deserved an A for what he made.
What he got, however, was more than what he bargained for— an amazed gleam on Sean’s face as he admired Nay’s painting. It was something Nay had not witnessed in a long while, that look of awe a person would have when looking at his art. Perhaps he had subconsciously been programmed to expect a dull and disinterested response, like what his parents would give whenever they see his painting in their backyard.
“This… is incredible,” were the only words Sean had let out as he scanned Nay’s work, the corners of his lips climbing higher and higher, and later it would not be the canvas that was in his hands but Nay’s face, cheeks cupped in his grasp. And as he peppered Nay’s lips with kisses, he muttered, “ My boyfriend is so talented.”
Nay has not forgotten that night since, could not forget the look of amazement on his boyfriend’s face, the feel of Sean’s lips brushing against his as he showered him with affection, the tenderness in his heart at every affirming word whispered in his ears. He longed for that moment again, to relive the pride and joy he got from presenting his art to Sean.
Since then, Sean has become one of Nay’s biggest inspirations to create art, and what better present is there to give to someone who sincerely loves his art than an artwork made solely for him?
That’s how Nay found himself spending the finals period juggling his time to finish his academic requirements, review for his exams, and paint a large canvas portrait of Sean.
And he tried. He tried to keep his priorities straight, reminded himself that his studies should come first because he’s responsible and that’s what Sean would want as well. Yet he ended up completing Sean’s portrait way before finishing the required art pieces for his major subject and stashing it in his closet, waiting for the precious day it would be given to its rightful owner.
This, however, was not even a millimeter close to how Nay planned to reveal his art to Sean, and he only has himself to blame for letting his sickness and carelessness get the best of him.
“Nay?”
He was getting too caught up in his self-loathing again because Sean is now standing across him face-to-face, a hybrid of curious and anxious.
Accepting his faith, Nay takes a deep breath. Why is this making him more nervous than when he answered Sean’s confession months ago?
“Yes,” admits Nay after a few more inhales, “That’s you. I… painted it for your birthday.”
Sean’s doe eyes widen at the admission before turning towards the painting. Silent, he walks over to the canvas, stopping only when he was a few feet away.
The painting, a half-length portrait of Sean smiling with a bouquet of red roses in one hand and a ruby-colored string in the other, is perched on a wooden easel that had been angled to stand right around his height.
Nay followed a few inches behind Sean, taking in his own work from afar. It wasn’t his first time making a portrait, but it was definitely the first time he was making it for someone, and he had no intentions of going about it willy-nilly. He had worked this painting from a core memory he made last Valentine’s of Sean right after he said yes to his confession. That was the first time he had ever seen a smile that breathtaking on the other, and all he kept thinking after that day was wanting to keep that smile on Sean’s face for as long as the heavens would allow him.
Materializing it through a painting, Nay figured, was one of the best ways he could do that.
For a good long minute, it’s pure silence, with nothing happening except the up-and-down bobbing of Sean’s head as he scans the painting while Nay waited in agony. Although it was Sean’s prior animated reactions that pushed him to create this, one can never really know what to expect, and right now, Nay’s mind is drawing blank, incapable of predicting how his boyfriend will react to his painting this time.
The last thing he expected, however, was to see tears flowing down Sean’s face.
“H-Hey, what— why are you crying?” Nay asks, baffled, stuttering as worry overwrites his crippling fear.
Sean doesn’t answer him verbally. Instead, he pivots and pulls him into a tight embrace. The shock from the unexpected reaction triples when Sean’s chest starts pulsing against his, the ringing so loud and harsh against his skin, you’d think it’s going to burst at any minute.
“What’s going on with y—”
“It’s beautiful,” mumbles Sean, his arms settled around Nay’s waist tightening even more, their bodies pressing against each other closer than seconds before.
Nay wanted to reply with a quirky “Of course it is,” like how he usually does when Sean compliments his art, but this time, it didn’t feel right. Because no matter how many sleepless nights he spent on it, no matter if he used the finest equipment in his stash, no matter if he got possessed by the dead artistic prodigies, this painting, and maybe any painting for that matter, could never encapsulate the beauty that is Sean.
But perhaps it wasn’t about putting Sean’s beauty to paper, but something else. Something Nay has always struggled to express in conventional ways, simply because he didn’t get enough of it in his life. But now he does. He’s feeling it, receiving it, being showered with it, and he’s overflowing with it, and he’s now become filled enough to be able to give it.
And it’s the “I love you too” that Sean whispers into his ear which proves it to Nay, showing him that the true essence of his painting had been delivered loud and clear.
They don’t know how many minutes or hours had passed but they stay wrapped around each other for a long time, basking in the solace and warmth only they can give to each other, not wanting this moment to end because why would they when this is home to them?
It isn’t until Nay catches Sean heave an agonized sigh do they finally pull away, and if it wasn’t for the forlorn look on his boyfriend’s face, he would’ve dived back into his embrace once more.
“What is it?”
Sean purses his lips, frustration clear from the furrowing of his eyebrows, “I’m sorry I ruined your birthday surprise,” he apologizes under his breath, a huge sense of shame dripping from his tone.
Nay is dumbfounded for a second, but as soon as he comes down from his high, he shakes his head, “It’s fine. You were meant to see it anyway.”
His delivery is firm, determined to let Sean know that this and now is more than enough to compensate for the failed surprise (which was entirely his fault anyway). Yet his reply does not seem to appease the other, or at least he thinks it doesn’t, because Sean spends the succeeding seconds staring at him with an indecipherable gaze, like he was processing ten thousand things at once, pitting them against each other in some sort of mental debate, one that likely culminates to nothing because moments later, Nay feels Sean slam his forehead against his shoulder blade, and he can only chuckle in amusement as his visibly upset boyfriend attempts to drill his entire face into it.
“Come on, Sean. I told you it’s fine. There’s no need to get upset over it—”
“It’s not that.”
Sean grunts through his teeth before raising his head and catching Nay’s gaze. His hand reaches upward, fingers landing first on Nay’s left temple before gliding downwards softly like a light breeze grazing his skin, and an audible gasp escapes Nay’s throat when they come to rest above his lips.
“It’s just… right now, I really, really want to kiss you, and hold you, and make love to you,” Sean whispers, his voice suddenly raspy and dropping several pitches lower, effectively sending a chill down Nay’s spine.
Three inches.
Then two.
Then one.
Nay’s heart rate grows faster as the distance between their faces decreases, his anticipation shooting up higher, and higher…
Only to harshly fall back down when Sean pulls away.
“But you’re sick, so we probably shouldn’t, right?”
It’s funny how the thing that surprises Nay from this whole admission is not Sean’s carnal desires, but his refusal to act upon them for the reason that Nay’s ill, because they have been spending God-knows-how-many hours practically glued by the hip since Sean arrived. Heck, even this second, they are literally pressed against each other, with Sean’s arguably useless face mask the only thing blocking them from acting on their impulses. Sean had obviously thrown “avoid catching Nay’s fever” out of the window The minute he agreed to cuddle with Nay earlier, so what is he hesitating for now?
“Your temperature might be okay, but your body’s still weak. I don’t wanna push you.”
But it comes to light that Sean is not even thinking about himself but is simply worried about Nay, about what could happen if he pushes himself onto him when he is not in the best physical condition, and Nay is overwhelmed once again at the thought of someone being so selflessly considerate of him and putting him first like no one else had ever done before.
And though he has never been eloquent with words like Sean, he learned today that love can be expressed in many ways, much like how his painting was able to convey to Sean his immense love for him. So Nay lets his body do the talking for him, wraps his arms around Sean’s neck, takes the face mask off of the other’s face, and meshes their lips together. The kiss is slow at first, but when Sean is finally able to recover from the shock, the corners of his lip curl upwards and he returns the kiss with the same passion.
And as Sean princess-carries him, gently pushes him onto the bed, and hovers over him not a heartbeat later, Nay gets a perfect look at his boyfriend’s face, love-drunk and red-light ruby, and he suppresses a giggle when Sean’s breathy lips glide their way through his collarbone to plant a kiss under his right ear before whispering,
“Let me take care of you, love.”
Oh, and how Nay would want that. To always be taken care of by Sean. To be at the mercy of Sean’s burning desires. To be caressed and explored by Sean’s fingers. To have his name passing through Sean’s lips in every pitch, in both beautiful and broken melodies. To make more core memories of Sean, ones that he will eventually put into canvas once more.
Hopefully not just tonight, but for the rest of their lives.
🖌🖌🖌