Chapter Text
This, Ohm thinks as he walks into the bar with Leng, may be step one of retribution.
It’s rare enough to be invited to a private party with the other GMMTV artists, let alone at a bar. They all usually do their own things after shows and Ohm almost always heads home as soon as it’s time to clock out. But it seems like the strings have loosened around Nanon’s circle of friends tonight, especially after what had happened between them and the friendship politics that came in the aftermath.
You two are invited, Tay texts him, you should come.
Leng, huh?
For a moment, Ohm wonders if he’s invited as a form of formality because of Leng instead. Leng has instantly clicked with everybody. Faster than Ohm ever did with the people from the company. Even with Ohm leading him around by the shoulders over the first few weeks of joining the company, Leng was a social force to be reckoned with.
But it doesn’t matter, not when the opportunity to see Nanon has presented itself. He texts Perth first. He’s almost always part of the group chat lists. He’s not stepping foot into that place without his own friends. When Perth texts him back with a green light, he shoots Leng a text.
ohmpawat: you wanna go to tay’s party?
lengso: yeah!!! 🙋
lengso: i wanna see you know who 🧏 🫨🤭 🤡❤️🩹
ohmpawat: what’s the clown for?
lengso: look in the mirror, phi 🫵🪞❗️🫰
ohmpawat: 😡😡😡 get your own ride, nong leng
lengso: my fanservice gets paid through free rides, phi
ohmpawat: …
ohmpawat: i’ll pick you up in two
Ohm does a lot of mental gymnastics to bring himself out of the house.
He washes his hair again to get rid of the gel from earlier today (his hair is nicer when it’s soft) (what if someone has the urge to pat his head? he must be ready).
He wears the most casual white t-shirt and jeans he can find after switching his outfit three times (too much effort reeks of desperation for attention).
He pockets a Chapstick just in case (he’s not hoping to kiss an ex-soulmate, but still).
And as just another precaution, fumbles through his bedside drawer for whatever impossible scenario he concocts in his mind (he’s not going to sleep with the asshole who pretends he doesn’t exist but on the off chance that said ex wants to, well, Ohm is uh—).
It’s dark inside when they walk in. It’s a small bar, but it’s bustling with familiar faces. Perth, already wine red and his face puffed up, hollers at him and Leng before beelining his way towards them.
“I thought the party just started,” Ohm tells Perth as they make their way to the bar area.
Perth’s eyebrows rise all the way up, eyes flitting at him and Leng before turning to the dance floor. Quietly, he picks up the two glasses of beer from the bartender and holds it out for Ohm and Leng.
“Well,” Perth starts, clicking his tongue, “tonight might be a long one, so. Mon and I did a pregame at my place.”
Ah. That makes sense. The children of the divorce. Perth gives him A Look when Ohm opens his mouth and shuts it close again.
“Just—don’t look at each other like you’re Kwan and Riam in this lifetime, alright? Just because you’re both stubborn idiots doesn’t mean we have to suffer too,” Perth says before walking away, ignoring Ohm’s babbles of, “—we’re not that dramatic, what do you mean by stub—”
Leng sighs next to Ohm, settling on a bar stool. “The poor victims of,” Leng waves a hand, “whatever this is.”
“Hey,” Ohm wails, “I’m suffering here too.”
Leng links an arm with him and blinks prettily. “Says the one who brought a plus one to meet his ex.”
“We’re not exes,” Ohm corrects him.
Chuckling, Leng lets go. “But I’m a plus one.”
“You offered some clowning.”
“I just want to see you suffer,” Leng says, smirking at him. “But seriously, though? You brought Chapstick.”
Ohm rolls his eyes at him. “In case the clowning works—”
“Try harder, phi,” is all Leng says.
Just in time, Ohm barely catches sight of Nanon in a sea of heads a few feet away from him. Ohm sees a silhouette of his self-proclaimed soulmate and he can just build the rest of what his eyes chance upon. Nanon is holding a glass of beer and wearing an oversized t-shirt. Blue always looks good on him. He’s not wearing sunglasses indoors for a change, but Ohm knows that Nanon’s not going to look at him anyway. He barely does nowadays.
But one thing Ohm knows through some secret wavelength that remains unbroken despite whatever the fuck state they were in is that Ohm can still catch his attention, just enough for a millisecond reaction that Ohm can savor for the rest of the night.
So, he loops an arm over Leng and throws him a hundred-thousand-baht smile under the strobe lights of the bar. It’s a sufficient gesture for Leng to catch the sight of Nanon stiffening simply at the sound of Ohm’s laughter not being directed at him.
Ohm can tell Leng’s ticks now—much faster than how he usually does with his other coworkers with the amount of time they spend together. Leng scrunches his nose, a cute crinkle at the bridge and his eyes slipping into bows. His eyebrows curl inwards, unabashed and completely unhinged enough for Ohm to know he’s judging him.
Leng’s arm finds its way onto Ohm’s back. It barely fits in the space between Ohm and the bar counter.
“Smile,” Ohm says through gritted teeth, still flashing them like he’s committing the perfect crime.
Leng smiles—sickeningly sweet and charming, dimples lining his cheeks more than the profound craters Ohm is familiar with—towards him. “You’re an idiot,” Leng tells him through his own grin.
Ohm leans down. His face gets hidden at the crook of Leng’s shoulder, his gaze now trained on the wall of alcohol behind them. “But is it working?”
“Boy literally turned around to dance with his friends,” Leng says, patting his back. “He’s got his arms around P’Tay now, so who knows really.”
“Maybe you should put yours around me too,” Ohm grumbles. it’s lucky that Ohm has his face away, or anyone can tell how big his pout is despite the obnoxiously loud and fake laugh he lets out.
“I’m not getting on your back and hold you like a baby gorilla while we’re sitting down.”
Ohm grouses like a jealous teenager. “Is that what he’s doing to P'Tay right now?”
“Why don’t you look?”
Ohm sniffs. “I’m going to seethe in jealousy.”
“You’re such a loser.”
“And you chose to partner up with me,” Ohm chides back, finally sitting normally with his back pressed on the counter. “So, who’s the real loser here?”
Leng moves his palm to pinch his side. “I’m going to tell Moon you’re an asshole.”
Ohm twitches, body folding like an acute triangle facing Leng. “This is why we’re both his best friends.”
“Fine, fine.” Leng laughs loudly enough for anyone in close vicinity to slightly tilt their head towards them and catch attention. It’s a blessing in disguise that Leng is not easily fazed. “Either he gives zero fucks now or he gives a hundred ten and is masking it up. I can’t tell, honestly. You’re more well-versed with your own soulmate. You tell me.”
“Ex-soulmate,” Ohm sighs dramatically, finally looking at the dance floor to find that familiar back swaying to the music. “But it’s probably the former.”
Leng pats his back sympathetically. “You’re right. Not being delusional is always the optimal way of life.”
Ohm turns his head and squints his eyes at Leng in an awful attempt of a glare. “You’re terrible to me.”
Leng’s eyes form little mocking bridges over his face. Even in the dark, Ohm can tell the disrespectful twinkle in his eyeballs as he pats Ohm’s head gingerly. “You’re the one who said the former,” he says, smiling innocently.
Ohm replicates his expression with a forced laugh. “You’re supposed to correct me.”
“I signed up to be part of the Nong List,” Leng says. “Not to be your love therapist.”
“More like hate therapist,” Ohm whines, dipping his forehead down Leng’s shoulder in surrender. Step one of retribution, my ass. Nanon isn’t even looking his way. “Maybe it’s time we get on the dance floor too.”
He can feel the snort come up Leng’s entire body. “You know best we both can’t dance for shit.”
“Well,” Ohm says with a sigh, comically dragging his beer towards Leng. “We can do anything with enough drinks in our system.”
“Fine,” Leng says, linking their arms together in a love shot. Ohm blinks at him, amused. “What? We gotta step it up.”
Ohm’s fake giggle turns into a real one as his friend cackles at another attempt to make his ex-partner seethe in secrecy. He lifts his glass to his lips, feeling eyes on them from the dance floor, and chugs his beer all the way.
“You’re good at this,” Ohm tells him, feeling the burn of the fizz on his throat.
Leng leans close to him. Too close. They haven’t unlinked their arms. Ohm can smell the alcohol they just downed together.
“Don’t look, but he’s looking,” Leng mumbles softly. “Now smile like you’re fond of me, phi. Like you mean it.”
“I am fond of you,” Ohm says honestly, his smile a beaming sunray as warm as the alcohol swirling inside him.
“Sure, sure,” Leng says. “Make sure he doesn’t hate me after this. He’s my idol, you know.”
Ohm curls his eyebrows. “I thought that was me.”
The corner of Leng’s mouth turns up into a devious smile. “Eh,” Leng shrugs, finally leaning back. “They said not to get to know your idol and here I am now, so.”
“You’re a menace.”
“I’m a menace who gets things done,” Leng says.
Ohm knows exactly what he means by that.
*
Four shots and three beers later, Ohm finds himself stumbling to the bathroom hallway alone.
Leng, it turns out, knows his way around alcohol well, but still he indulges Ohm with dancing like silly geese on the dance floor with a drunken Satang sandwiched in the middle. Last Ohm remembers seeing him, he was sidled into a corner where the darts board is with Tay and Mark.
Ohm is humming to the song playing in the background as he blinks through the hazy neon red and green lights lining down the hall. It’s more muted than the sound outside, but he still sways off-beat to it. Luckily, the hallway is narrow enough that when Ohm stumbles, he can easily anchor himself against the wall.
Ohm hasn’t had this much enjoyment in a long time while intoxicated. Oftentimes in the last few months, he’d drink with Perth or his dad and Thai at home and have meaningful conversations unsealed by insobriety.
He almost forgets the reason why he came here in the first place tonight until he sees a figure crouched on the ground. If Ohm wasn’t paying enough attention to not falling face flat on the floor, he probably would not have seen him and maybe even tripped over him.
“Oh,” he mouths intelligently, squinting at the person. His hair looks so soft. Ohm wants to pet his head, so he drags his feet with a sleepy smile and does exactly that.
Said person looks up from his forehead planted on his forearm.
For the first time in a long time, they lock eyes for more than twenty seconds. Ohm still has his fingers curled over soft brown hair.
A hoarse, sexy voice breaks Ohm out of his trance. “What are you doing?”
He pulls his hand away and straightens up. “Oh. Sorry.”
Nanon doesn’t say anything, but he does run his own hand over the tops of his hair. He doesn’t do anything to indicate any intentions of getting up and away from Ohm. Far, far away, like how he normally does so when possible.
Ohm’s heart races as he tries to find any string of words to come out of his mouth.
Finally, Ohm says, “I need you to leave.”
Nanon turns to look up at him. He’s glaring at Ohm as if he’s done more than ask him to move. “What?” Nanon asks, offended. “Why would I leave? Shouldn’t you leave with your—with—”
Huh? Huh. Ohm’s head spins. “Oh! I meant out of the way. I need to pee.”
Nanon turns to the door next to him. He’s planted right at the entrance.
“Oh.”
Even in his own haziness, Ohm can tell Nanon’s just as equally fucked up.
“Yeah, I don’t want to pee here,” Ohm says hastily. “Sorry. Excuse me.”
Nanon scrambles on his feet and finally moves out of the way.
Despite the urgency of them finally talking, there’s a more urgent matter for Ohm to take care of. He speedily finishes up. His head is fuzzy while he washes his hand and puts the damn Chapstick on, his heart in his throat with the wonder of whether Nanon will be out of sight the moment he steps foot outside of this door.
Surprisingly for Ohm, Nanon’s still there. He’s got his forehead pressed on the wall as he stands in front of Ohm. Ohm lets out the breath he’s holding.
“I’m done,” he dumbly announces.
Nanon remains unresponsive. His eyes are closed, and he stands extremely still.
“Hey? Do you wanna use it after me?”
Well. Maybe Nanon just wants his own quiet time to simmer. As much as Ohm wants to talk to him, bask in his attention, rejection swirls in his insides from getting ignored.
“Alright, let me just,” Ohm mutters, looking at the ground rather than watch Nanon continuously snub him. He tries to find a way around Nanon in this narrow hall and steps to the end. He’s still wobbly, so he ends up brushing an arm against Nanon's back.
“Sorry,” Ohm says, halting in his step and twisting so he’s parallel to Nanon.
Nanon straightens up. Ohm can’t see his face but can feel the space between them lessening. He finds himself facing locks of brown hair and a broad shoulder covered by a pretty blue reflecting the red neon light over them.
“Stop saying that,” Nanon says lowly.
The contrast between the quietness of his voice compared to the music blaring outside is hypnotizing.
Ohm unconsciously leans closer. “Hm?”
“Stop apologizing.”
“Okay.”
“Don’t you have anything else you can say to me besides I’m sorry?”
Ohm swallows the words bursting out of him. I miss you. I miss your voice. I miss the smell of you. I miss touching your hair. I miss your warmth. I miss holding you. I miss you I miss you I miss you—
I’m sorry. Can we be friends again?
“No.”
A whiff of musky vanilla intermixed with tequila and sweet punch. Soft hair that tickles Ohm’s cheek. Warmth coats his front as he gets pushed back against the wall, his face now nuzzled onto soft skin. He digs his nose down the expanse of skin exposed from the thick blue shirt, his hands coming up to clasp a waist in front of him.
Ohm doesn’t know if he pulled Nanon first. He doesn’t know if Nanon leaned himself back on him first. It doesn’t matter. What matters is the warmth he’s holding in between his fingertips, the familiar scent filling his lungs, his lips pressing down a familiar trail from the bottom of Nanon’s left ear down to his pulse point. What matters is the clammy fingers wrapped around his forearm as if wanting to keep him in place in this embrace.
There’s no mistaking the shaky exhale Ohm hears.
Ohm lifts a gentle hand to turn Nanon’s head sideways. He has his eyes closed, but Ohm can smell the intoxication exuding off him.
“Do I have to apologize for this?” Ohm says, pressing a soft kiss against a cheek where he knows from memory a dimple would be.
He doesn't need to hear the answer. Nanon shows him instead.