Work Text:
Tine moved into a cottage near the outskirt of Bangkok which is not that busy. He retired from his law firm and decided to wind down all the business that once occupied him.
He was always that cheerful person who greeted everyone in the neighborhood. Pear and Boss came after Love set up her clinic nearby. He was his usual self - brought laughter into the daily scene.
"Hey, would you like some green curry, Pear?" Tine talked to Love on the phone.
"I miss your green curry, my friend," Pear smiled fondly. She could smell the spices and chicken even by thinking of it.
Green curry. It had always reminded Pear the bond between Tine and Sarawat, how everyone thought they were inseparable, how much Sarawat loved Tine's cooking. She tapped on her office desk with her pen. Until Boss walked in with her lunchbox.
"My cute doc, you must be hungry..." Boss tried to steal a kiss from Pear as he put down the boxes.
Pear leaned in to reward her cute husband. How can he be so adorable after so many years, Pear had no idea.
Green curry. Tine absentmindedly tasted the sauce from the ladle. Ouch. He burnt his tongue. He should have know better not to taste directly from it. Tine thought to himself.
Tine turned to get a sip of cold water. If that person was here, probably he would be running in circles and grab plaster to heal his tongue. The freezing cold temperature touched the tip of his tongue, silently swimming to his throat. He could feel his eyes become blurry, his nose itching. Tine bit the inner walls of his mouth.
It wasn't anything tragic. He and that person grew old together, spent numerous days making green curry and travelling around with music all the time. It was just an inevitable time ticking moment that he had to let go.
Tine bid his farewell. He continued with his law firm business until one day he fainted in his office due to hard work. P'Type's worried eyes hit him somehow. It faintly recalled a piece which he had long forgotten somewhere at tge back of his mind.
"Tine, if you don't rest well when investigating cases, I'll be coming home to punish you for not taking care of my Tine."
"Make sure you drink your water."
"Baby, you'll be fine."
'Tine...'
'Tine...!'
'Oh! P'Type! Your too loud!' Tine covered his ears.
'Dad, promise me you will take good care of yourself, K?' Dome patted his shoulder as if he was the child.
'Prepare for the wedding and I'll be ready to walk you down the aisle,' Tine teased his son.
'I don't think so, Dad! Stop messing my hair!'
Tine did not cry. Not on the day he said goodbye. Not on the day he left the house they bought together. Not when their son hugged him tight at the temple.
He might have lost all his tears. He thought as everyone looked at him like a fragile little thing. He is Tine. The lawyer who won cases people thought would never win.
Tine clasped his hands, prayed silently. He straightened his back as he stood up.
The tears were too precious to lose. Every tear was going to take him away from him. He curbed into a ball that night.
Night was cold. Bed was cold. He was cold.
Everybody who knew him and that person did not mention him in front of him. He himself rarely talked about that person. Only memories remained and he had confined them all to his heart, all to himself.
Simply by uttering a single word about him, Tine would be so afraid that he could not hold onto what he owned. The memories would fade. To him, he would rather curb into a ball to protect what was left.
Tine continued stirring his green curry. This is his little magic potion that takes him down the memory lane.
Sarawat.
He'll keep Sarawat in his Wat.