Archive of Our Own

It’s not that they wanted to hide their relationship from Chanon, it’s just that… well, with everything that’s happened to them over the past few months, breaking the news of their dating never seemed that high on the priority list.

To be fair, there was a point in time where Palm wondered if he should even bother with telling his dad. Their relationship was—well, not exactly strained, but not exactly close either. It had always been that way, and Palm had generally chalked it up to Chanon spending the majority of his time serving a wealthy family in the glitz and glamor of upper Sukhumvit, while leaving his son behind to be meagre fisherman with no direction in life or goals for the future.

Palm doesn’t resent his father for his dedication and loyalty to the Kiattrakulmethee family, though. Sure, he’d originally been upset and angry at how easily his dad had traded over both their lives to this family, but it was hard to be mad after he learned what Pipop had done for them, back when Palm was but the sick child of a single father with gambling and alcohol addictions. On a fundamental level, he could understand how Chanon’s undying loyalty to Pipop was, in a sense, his way of expressing his love for Palm. It was a testament to his gratitude that Palm was given another chance at life, that his son wasn’t torn away from him prematurely because of his own vices and ineptitudes as a father.

Besides, if it weren’t for Chanon’s debt to and service for the Kiattrakulmethee family, Palm never would have met Nueng. That, in and of itself, is enough of a reason to tell him about their relationship.

Still, figuring out the timing has been tricky.

Since coming out of hiding, having all the charges against him cleared, and being gently removed from service by Thanya— “you’ve done more than enough for my family, Chanon, you deserve to go live your own life”—Chanon has been a bit aimless in life. It’s been so, so long since he’s had any sort of freedom like this to just explore life and ponder his future. Even when he did, back in the days long before he ever met Pipop Kiattrakulmethee, he was just a small-town boy. At that time, his biggest dream was having a successful enough fishery business to buy a big home for his future wife and children, and nothing much more than that.

That’s hardly a dream worth chasing now, though, with a dead ex-wife and a fully grown son.   

So instead, he’s taken to helping Palm out at the bar more. It’s worked out well enough, with Nueng stuck in Bangkok for hotel business the past week and a half. This way, Chanon has something to do with all the free time that’s been thrust upon him, while Palm has some extra hands to help with the end of tourist season.

Except, Chanon didn’t exactly know that he was stepping in for Nueng when he offered to help, which takes them back to their original dilemma.

Nueng may be stuck in Bangkok for business now, but it’s not a permanent thing. Eventually, he’ll come back, and Palm will be stuck having to explain why Nuengdiao, heir to the largest hotel conglomerate in Thailand, is spending his time working as a waitstaff at a small island bar.

At Palm’s small island bar.

It’s a miracle Chanon hasn’t asked about the name “Nuengdiao Bar & Café” yet. Granted, just because he hasn’t said anything about it, doesn’t mean he hasn’t taken note of it. With any luck, he already has an inkling of the relationship between Palm and Nueng, and he just hasn’t said anything because he feels awkward about it and doesn’t know how to bring it up.

There’s a chance his mind is going the complete opposite direction, though, and he thinks that he somehow passed his fervent loyalty for the Kiattrakulmethee family onto Palm, who named the bar solely out of undying gratitude and servitude for Nueng. Or maybe, he thinks that Nueng funded the whole endeavor as a testament to their friendship, and the name of the bar was a way for Palm to repay him for his gratitude. Or maybe, just maybe, he thinks that Palm just thinks the name is nice and left it at that—nothing more, nothing less.

Honestly, Palm’s run mental circles around dozens of possibilities at this point, and he’s still not really sure which he prefers.

Regardless, he had planned to shelve the thought of coming clean to his dad until Nueng had a clearer idea of when he’d be coming back. He didn’t want to add another thing to worry about to Nueng’s already stacked plate, and it was almost completely useless to spend time fretting over it on his own. Plus, he figured that now was as good a time as any for him to try bonding with his dad, and he’s pretty sure that dropping the whole “boyfriend” bomb on him would probably get in the way of that.

So, he had resolutely swallowed his own awkwardness and swore not to bring up Nueng to his dad until the time was right.

That had been his plan, at least. He’s able to stick to it fairly well, too, until suddenly, an opportunity arises one gloomy Saturday afternoon.

Palm’s FaceTiming Nueng while preparing to open the bar for the night. It’s basically a daily ritual at this point, one they’ve taken to ever since Nueng realized he’d be in Bangkok for more than the original three days he promised Thanya. Nueng’s all pouty and grumpy, upset about his mom asking him to stay an extra few days to handle issues with British investors. If he agrees to stay, it’ll mean that they’ll be missing each other for a whole two weeks. It’s the longest they’ve been separated since reuniting, and the separation is already killing them both.

While Palm wants to put on a strong front and encourage Nueng to help his mother out, Nueng has no such misgivings.

“I don’t get why they always have to come and see us in person, I mean, everyone uses Zoom nowadays, why bother with flying out?” Nueng gripes, throwing himself onto the couch in his office at the hotel with a loud huff.

“But these investors are important for your European operations, aren’t they?” Palm asks. While he doesn’t quite understand all the intricacies of the hotel business, he tries to keep up with whatever Nueng is telling him and support him however he can. “So, you have to play along with whatever they request?”

“But it’s stuuuupid.” Nueng lets out a long groan as he throws his head back.

Palm can’t help but gulp as he watches the pale column of Nueng’s neck stretch before him. He’s in a crisp black suit today, one that makes his dark, glimmering eyes stand out and his unblemished skin seem even paler than usual. Were he here in Surat with Palm, that sweet skin would be sun-kissed and littered with small splotches of pink from Palm’s kisses, barely hidden under the billowy fabric of his Hawaiian shirts.

Fuck, wait, what are they talking about again?

Clearing his throat, Palm desperately wills his voice not to shake as he speaks, “How about this? You stay there, and I’ll close up the bar for a few days to come visit you instead.”

Nueng whips his head forward at that, so quickly he gives himself whiplash, judging by the way he blinks rapidly for a few seconds before looking back at his phone.

“Really? You’d come visit?”

Palm wants to be offended by Nueng’s shock, but he can’t. He understands it, more than he’d like to admit. After all, he hasn’t been to Bangkok once since he left Nueng all those months ago, not even for the court proceedings against Suphakit where the charges against his father were cleared. Even after he and Nueng reconciled, it’s always been Nueng coming and staying with him on the island, and not the other way around.

To be honest, he’s not even really sure why he feels so awkward about it, why he’s hesitated so much to go back.

Maybe it’s because he no longer has his flat back in Bangkok, having broken his lease when he ran away from Nueng. If he went back to Bangkok, he’d have no choice but to stay at the Kiattrakulmethee mansion as opposed to taking care of and hosting Nueng in a place of his own like he wants to. Or maybe, it’s the comfort and familiarity he has with the island, how to his heart he’s not a city boy and going back to Bangkok is a constant reminder of how different he and Nueng are. Or maybe, it’s this intrinsic, irrational fear deep inside him that if he goes to Bangkok, away from the safety of the island, something will try to kill him and Nueng again, try to tear them apart, try to destroy this delicate peace they’ve found together.

None of those thoughts are rational, though, and Palm hasn’t seen his beloved in far too long to care about any of them right now.

“It doesn’t get too busy here until mid-week anyway,” Palm says in lieu of a response. “I’ll close for a few days so I can come see you. If we need to, P’Tam and dad can always reopen later in the week and manage things on their own until you and I can come back.”

Nueng’s eyes are practically shining with each word, and any bit of hesitation Palm may have had immediately evaporates as he sees the glee on his face.

“Okay, okay, but I’m going to ask my mom for a day off before we go back, so we can go out,” Nueng says excitedly, eyes darting around his screen rapidly. “Hang on, I have a list here somewhere…”

“A list?”

“Yeah, of date ideas.”

Palm’s brain stops working right at that second, but Nueng doesn’t seem to notice, eyes transfixed on this list that he’s apparently pulled up.

“You have no idea, how crazy I felt, Googling all these things instead of doing my homework.”

Huh?

“The number of times I cleared my search history, I swear. Of course, I had no clue whether you’d ever actually want me back—”

“You wanted to take me on dates?” Palm finally asks, his brain finally catching up.

Just the thought of it seems so implausible, so unbelievable. Nueng, the jaded, lone-wolf prince of the school, had liked Palm so much that he’d been picturing them going on all sorts of dates around the city. He had a whole list of the places he wanted to take Palm out. Palm, the clumsy kid from a fishing boat who’d inexplicably been assigned to be his bodyguard with absolutely no qualifications.

Not for the first time, Palm feels a bit of remorse etch at him, for how long the world kept them apart through their social statuses, through Suphakit, through their own stupidity.

“Shut up,” Nueng snaps, and suddenly Palm’s brain is catching up to the current situation enough to look at Nueng’s face properly. He’s lowered his screen a bit so he could more comfortably read through his list, but even so, Palm can see the light pink dusting on his cheeks.

God, he’s so cute.

“Not my fault you’re so dense. I was dropping so many signs, so many! But nooo, you just had to keep acting cool—”

“Nueng?”

“—like you didn’t—hm?”

“I love you.”

The pink dusting turns into an entire red blossom, lighting up Nueng’s cheeks, but Palm can’t even tease him for that, not when his lips are curling up into this beaming smile that could light the entirety of Thailand.

“I love you too,” Nueng says, softly and sincerely. “Wanna hear about some of the places I found? Or do you want it to be a surprise?”

“Hmm, I don’t know, my boyfriend doesn’t really like surprises…”

Nueng rolls his eyes, having heard this joke probably a hundred times by now. Yes, he still doesn’t like surprises, but he’s made a special exception just for Palm ever since that very first surprise on the island, when Palm took him to the secret beach for the first time. Now, any surprise Palm has in store for him, he anticipates with unveiled glee.

“Well, your boyfriend is happy to just plan everything, if you don’t want to hear about it—”

“I’ll love it no matter where we go, as long as I’m with you,” Palm says, earnestly, and Nueng’s expression softens immediately. “But I’m happy to help plan too, if you want.”

“Okay, okay, so I broke the list down by neighborhoods, so maybe we could start—”

“Nueng?”

A familiar voice rings through the air, cutting Nueng off, and even through FaceTime, Palm can immediately tell who it is.

“Oh, hey Mom,” Nueng greets, and sure enough, just a moment later, Thanya’s hand is appearing in screen and settling gently on Nueng’s shoulder.

“Is that Palm?” Thanya asks, and when Nueng nods, she sits down next to him on the couch and leans in so that her face is fully visible in the screen. A warm smile spreads on her face when she sees Palm, and Palm instinctively raises his hand into a quick, one-handed wai. “Hello Palm, it’s good to see you.”

“Hello, Mrs. Thanya,” he greets a little stiffly.

He knows, in theory, that Thanya knows about their relationship. It makes sense—after all, Nueng is open with his mother about almost everything, so why not this? Apparently, Nueng hadn’t even told her about them at first, she’d just figured it out on her own while recovering from her coma and seeing how miserable Nueng had been after Palm ran away. Since their reconciliation, Nueng’s been much more open about their relationship to her—with Palm’s permission, of course—and really, Palm is incredibly grateful for how supportive she’s been all this time.

 That doesn’t mean he doesn’t still feel a bit awkward about it, though.

His interaction with Thanya has been pretty minimal since their conversation in the hospital that one fateful day. Since then, his contact with her has been limited to the very occasional greeting when Nueng calls her from the island and drags Palm into frame for the half-second he’ll allow before he finds an excuse to escape until Nueng’s done. There have also been a couple instances where Nueng’s called Palm from Bangkok after finishing his work, and Thanya just happened to be passing by at the same time. She’d always make a point to greet Palm pleasantly, but she never stuck around for long, seemingly busy with all the responsibilities only a major hotel conglomerate owner could have.

It doesn’t seem to be one of those situations now, though, as Thanya gets comfortable on the couch and Nueng looks to her excitedly.

“Mom, can I take Monday off?”

“Hm?” Thanya looks to Nueng with an eyebrow raised. “All of a sudden? You know you have that meeting with the Primera group on Monday—”

“Okay, okay, Tuesday then. C’mon Mom, pleaaase?” As though to really sell his case, Nueng curls his arm not holding up his phone around Thanya’s, rubbing their shoulders together and nuzzling the side of his face into her neck. He’s got this great big grin on his face, and his eyes are wide in expectation. “Please?”

Thanya looks almost amused at the request and the sudden clinginess, reaching her free hand up to ruffle his hair lightly.

“What’s the occasion?”

“Palm’s coming up to visit for a few days.” Nueng glances at his phone and gives Palm a little wink. “We’re gonna go on a date.”

Thanya blinks a couple times, as though she’s processing the words, and then she just chuckles, ruffling Nueng’s hair again. Palm, feeling a little mortified at Nueng’s bluntness but mostly endeared by the mother-son scene in front of him, keeps his mouth shut.

“Sounds fun,” she says, before turning back to the camera. “When will you be coming into town, Palm?”

“Ah, uhm, well,” Palm stammers, barely regaining his composure enough to choke something out, “I was thinking I could come up tomorrow and stay… until Nueng’s done with work, if that’s alright?”

Until Nueng can come home with me, doesn’t quite sound like the right thing to say to Nueng’s mother, but he’s not sure it sounds much better this way either. Thankfully, Thanya doesn’t seem to mind, just smiling brightly and nodding.

“Of course it is! It’ll be lovely to have you in the house again, Palm.” Her smile takes a bit of cunning edge, as she nudges Nueng with her shoulder. “If I knew all I had to do to get Palm to visit was to keep you here for a week, I would’ve expedited this deal ages ago.”

“Moooooom,” Nueng whines.

“What? Can’t a mother want to see her future son-in-law sometimes?”

Damn, Palm can’t deny the way his heart flips at the phrase future son-in-law, and judging by the way Nueng looks at the camera, Palm’s willing to hedge his bets that he feels the same way.

“I’m sorry I haven’t visited, Mrs. Thanya,” Palm says sincerely, and Thanya waves him off.

“It’s okay, Palm, I’m just teasing. I know you’ve been busy, but I’m glad you’re coming now. I feel bad we never got a chance to have dinner together, the three of us.” She pauses, thinking for a second. “Is there anything you’d like to have, Palm? I’ll tell Nid.”

“Oh, that’s okay, really—”

“Oy, Palm!”

Chanon’s booming voice makes Palm jump before he can help himself, and he whips his head up to see his father walking towards him, a small plastic bag in hand.

“Auntie Pai gave us extra pork skewers, eat up before you open for the night—” Chanon cuts himself off when he gets closer, suddenly noticing the phone in Palm’s hand. “You’re talking to someone?”

“Uhm, I…”

“Oh, is that Chanon?”

Palm watches as his dad’s back instinctively goes straighter as he undeniably recognizes the voice on the phone. He shoots Palm a questioning glance, but still obediently walks around the side of the bar to stand behind Palm and smile politely at Thanya and Nueng.

“Mrs. Thanya, Young Master,” he says curtly, bring his hands together in greeting. “It’s good to see you both.”

Nueng looks about as ready for this interaction as Palm does. He barely manages to pull a smile up onto his face in time to seem natural, and his hands are stiff and slow as they return Chanon’s greeting. In the meantime, his eyes dart around the screen at rapid speed, as though speaking to Palm in code, but there’s no SOS he can answer now, not when they’re both stuck in this unspeakable awkwardness for the foreseeable future.

Thanya and Chanon seemingly haven’t noticed their sons’ panic, or if they have, they haven’t said anything. Instead, they’re just exchanging pleasantries as though nothing was amiss. Simple questions of what have you been up to and how is the business fly over Palm’s head as he desperately tries to come up with a way to end this interaction as quickly as possible.

Before he gets that chance, however, Thanya puts the final nail in the coffin.

“Oh, this is perfect!” she says, suddenly clapping her hands together. “Chanon, why don’t you come up to Bangkok as well, and we can have a nice family dinner, the four of us?”

Fuck.

“As well?” Chanon asks quietly, turning to Palm in silent questioning, and Palm just resigns himself to his fate. In the background, he hears Thanya talking to Nueng about what food to have prepared for their dinner.

“I was going to close up for a few days and go to Bangkok,” he explains just as quietly. “Nueng and I were going to, uh, hang out.”

Not exactly a lie, but of all times, Palm isn’t sure now is exactly the right time to drop the d-word. Vaguely, he wonders if his father’s shocked at his use of Nueng’s first name, as opposed to calling him Mr. Nueng or Young Master as he had always done. If he is, he doesn’t show it, instead staring at him with this unreadable expression, mouth opening and closing a couple times as though he was chewing around the words he wanted to say.

Before he could try to get them out, though, Thanya is interrupting.

“Oh, I need to go to my dinner meeting, but Palm, do tell me when you’ll be arriving, okay? Do you need a driver? And really, if there’s anything you’d like to ea—”

“It’s okay, Mrs. Thanya, we’ll be fine,” Palm cuts in quickly, giving her his best charming smile as he wills this conversation to end as soon as humanly possible. “I’ll figure out all the trip details and send everything to Nueng as soon as I can.”

Thanya seems pleased with that, bidding him and Chanon farewell once again before getting up from the couch and walking out of frame. Nueng wraps the call up soon after, hastily saying goodbye to Chanon and telling Palm he’ll call him later, which really goes without saying. They both need each other to freak out over this impending dinner, after all.

When Nueng finally hangs up, silence looms over Palm and Chanon for what feels like a millennium. Palm resolutely doesn’t lift his head from his phone, making a show of looking at his phone calendar even though he knows there’s nothing on it, just to seem busy. Even so, he can feel Chanon’s eyes burning holes into the side of his head— god knows what his expression looks like right now. Palm will never know, though, because Chanon eventually relents, dropping the bag on the counter by Palm’s side and clapping his shoulder with just a tad bit more strength than usual.

“Eat up, you need to open soon.”

-

To say they’re nervous is quite possibly the understatement of the millennium.

Nueng is at least holding it in better, Palm thinks. Even though Nueng will claim that Palm is the tight-lipped, reserved one between the two of them, the truth is that he’s not as great as hiding his feelings as Nueng says he is. He’s impulsive where Nueng is thoughtful, explosive where Nueng is calm. It shows now, in the way he can’t stop shaking his leg, the way he keeps clenching and unclenching his fists, the way he can’t seem to shut his brain up for even a second.

Nueng, in contrast, looks nothing but calm and collected when he comes to greet Palm and Chanon at the door. He’s all pleasant smiles and light, platonic­ touches, ushering them both in with a sort of practiced affability that Palm doesn’t know how to respond to. Thankfully, there’s enough chaos in getting them situated that he can just kinda smile and nod along, but he knows better than to assume that’ll last long.

He gets a breather, thankfully, just a few minutes in. It doesn’t take long for Chanon to get accosted by Nid and some of the other house staff who’ve missed him these past months. And sure, they’ve missed Palm too, but they’ve known Chanon for so many years, it’s no surprise that Palm gets a little ignored. He doesn’t mind it, revels in it in fact, because it gives him the perfect getaway window to escape to Nueng’s room.

Which is exactly what he does the second he and Nueng make eye contact over Chanon’s shoulder. It doesn’t take much to sneak away, Chanon still engrossed in his game of catch-up with everyone, and before he knows it, Palm is slinking up the stairs with Nueng. He’s cautious though, and he hardly lets out a breath until he’s finally in Nueng’s room, the door shut behind them and protecting them from the rest of the world—or, in this case, Palm’s dad.

“Thank god my mom’s not here,” Nueng quips.

Palm chuckles lightly, opening his mouth to respond, but the words get caught in this throat when he raises his head to meet Nueng’s eyes. He’s staring, a sort of red-hot intensity in his eyes, and it makes Palm’s breath hitch. He’s no better, of course, staring back just as fervently, and they have a moment where it feels like time goes still, their bodies frozen in place as they just take in the sight of each other. It’s almost hypnotic, and Palm feels dazed just looking at Nueng right now. They’ve been apart for a whole week and a half, a painful week and a half, and yet now that they’re together again, Palm feels locked in place at just the sight of him.

Nueng, thankfully, breaths the trance first.

“Fuck, I missed you,” is all Palm hears before Nueng is barreling into him, throwing his arms around him in a total bear hug.

Palm barely manages to keep his bearings together enough to catch Nueng, accepting his weight with a quiet grunt before wrapping his arms around him. He buries his face in the crook of Nueng’s neck instinctively and closes his eyes. God, he’s almost forgotten what it was like to have Nueng in his arms like this, warm and soft and sweet in his embrace. Maybe that’s a bit dramatic to say after being apart for less than two weeks, but he can’t help himself. Every second away from Nueng feels achingly long, and just holding him like this now makes him feel like a man drinking his first drop of water after surviving days in a barren desert.

He very nearly whines when Nueng pulls back a bit, but he swallows the sound quickly when their lips touch. He feels ravenous with Nueng’s mouth on his, sucking and biting at every millimeter of skin he can get to. He wants to stay like this forever, tangled in each other’s arms, eating away at each other until it feels like they’re one connected being, forever inseparable.

It feels almost painful to pull back for air, and even when they do, they keep their faces exceedingly close. Noses and foreheads touching, their heavy breaths waft over each other’s faces. Their gazes remain locked in place, as though breaking eye contact for even a second could shatter this reality where they’re finally back together again.

Surprisingly, Nueng is the first to pull away completely, taking a step back only to drag himself and Palm to sit on his bed. Palm follows along, not unlike a lost puppy as he trails behind Nueng as closely as he can humanly manage without tripping them both. They manage to eventually seat themselves side-by-side at the edge of Nueng’s huge bed, their shoulders and thighs pressing against each other’s. One of Palm’s hands wraps around Nueng’s back and settles on his waist, while his other hand is caught in a vice grip on his lap by Nueng’s hands. Somehow, it doesn’t feel close enough, but it’ll have to do for now.

“What are we gonna do?” Palm finally asks, despite his best judgment.

He doesn’t want to think about the potential ticking time bomb awaiting them downstairs, but he knows they only have a limited amount of time before someone comes looking for them. He’d hoped to arrive a bit earlier and give them more time before dinner, both so they could enjoy their private time and so they could plan for the inevitable conversation with Chanon. Alas, Bangkok traffic had other plans, and it’s honestly a miracle he and Chanon managed to make it before Thanya got back home from work.

“I told my mom that he doesn’t know,” Nueng says slowly, eyes monitoring Palm’s reaction closely. “She won’t say anything unless we do.”

That’s strangely reassuring. Palm hadn’t even really considered the possibility of Thanya outing them unintentionally, but it makes sense. She’s enthusiastically supportive of them, but Palm could easily imagine that overenthusiasm coming out over dinner, in a way that none of them would be ready for.

“Do you…” Nueng starts before pausing, pursing his lips together.

“Hm?”

“Do you want to tell him?”

And that’s the million-baht question, isn’t it? They’ve only talked about this in vague terms before, off-handedly mentioning that they should really rip the bandage off and tell Chanon soon, for the sake of everyone’s sanity. But broadly hinting doesn’t exactly cut it anymore. They’re at D-Day now, and they have an hour at best to get their act together before they’re thrown into the deep end. There’s only so long they can keep the ‘friend’ charade up, and Palm knows it’ll only get more difficult to explain themselves with each passing day.

“We don’t have to tell him,” Nueng hastily adds, when Palm doesn’t respond immediately, “if… y’know, you’re not ready.”

Palm can tell that Nueng’s doing his best to act calm and composed, but he sees through him right away. His fingers anxiously tap on Palm’s hand in his lap. His lips are pursed tightly together, and his gaze is flittering about all over Palm’s face with these miniscule jumps, as though he’s trying to dissect every little bit of Palm’s expression to understand what he’s thinking. There’s even a set in his jaw, a barely-there tension that Palm wouldn’t even notice had he not been looking closely.

Over the past several months of managing the Kiattrakulmethee businesses, Nueng’s gotten very good at hiding his emotions and appearing unfazed, but with Palm, all of that concealment goes out the window.

“I just… I don’t want you to feel forced into it, just for me,” he continues, “I know it’s, it’s a big thing to just, I dunno, announce.”

It’s not hard to see where Nueng’s uncertainties stem from. Nueng never had the luxury of being able to love or even explore love without the scrutiny of everyone around him. The second he opened his heart up to someone, both his blooming relationship and his sexuality was blasted for their whole school to see. Fellow students jeered at him and bullied him, adults who were supposed to support him scorned and belittled him, and even the one he put both his heart and his neck out on the line for betrayed him.

Sure, he had support from his mother and from Palm, but the hurt undoubtedly still ran deep. The idea of potentially opening Palm up to that sort of pain must bother him deeply, if he’s acting like this, and to an extent, Palm understands. Granted, their situations are as different as they could be. There are no cruel high schoolers here now to try and ruin their lives, no snooty principals who care more about their school’s reputation than their students, no blackmail plots concocted out of petty vengeance and jealousy.

At the same time, there’s one thing that remains the same—a parent, and the aching uncertainty of how they’ll react.

Palm remembers with startingly clarity the fear and anxiety Nueng had felt in the moments leading up to his conversation with Thanya. Walking back home from the rooftop, Nueng couldn’t even begin to mask his nerves as each step brought him closer to a confrontation he had hoped to never have. Even as he laughed along to Palm’s lame jokes, he couldn’t hide the ways his hands wrung together, the way his eyes twitched, the way his shoulders remained tense and raised the whole walk home.

And while their relationships with their respective parents couldn’t be more different, a rock settles in Palm’s stomach all the same when he thinks about his dad potentially disapproving of their relationship.

To be honest, he has no fucking clue what he’d do if his dad didn’t support them. He sure as hell wouldn’t leave Nueng, and he’d probably throw in a few solid curses at his dad in the privacy of his and Nueng’s flat back at the island. But beyond that? He doesn’t really know what he’d do.

Would he try to change his mind? Would he keep pushing to mend their already estranged relationship? Or, would he just let him go, allow them to drift apart as father and son who feel more like strangers most days?

Damn, he really hopes that’s not a decision he has to make.

“I want to tell him,” Palm says after another moment’s silence, holding Nueng’s gaze steadily as he speaks. “I…I don’t want to lie to him anymore.”

Nueng grips his hand impossibly tighter, a solid weight grounding Palm as he lets waves of emotion pass over him.

“Are you sure?” Nueng asks quietly after a pause.

Palm nods.

“I need him to know, I think. No matter how he reacts, I just… I don’t think I can keep skirting around it like this. I don’t want to hide you anymore, hide us.”

He shakes his hand out of Nueng’s vice grip then, only to raise it up to cup his cheek again. Nueng’s eyes shine with adoration and understanding as he looks up at Palm. He nuzzles his face into Palm’s hand, scooching impossibly closer and nodding.

“Whatever you want,” he says quietly, and Palm can feel the sincerity in every word.

His heart swells with love as he caresses Nueng’s face, and he can’t hold himself from leaning in then, crowding in close until his lips are pressing softly against Nueng’s. It’s a light kiss, nothing more than a gentle press of the lips that’s more about just feeling each other than anything else, but Palm revels in it regardless. Any point of contact between them feels electric, his whole body singing to just feel more of Nueng against him.

He pulls away far too soon for either of their comfort, his paranoia overtaking all his other senses as he considers what they’re about to face.

“We should probably figure out what we’re going to say,” he says, regrettably as he watches Nueng frown.

Before he can say anything else, though— before he can even think— his vision goes blurry and his whole body is moving before he realizes. It takes a second for him to realize he’s being shoved down onto the bed, and he lets out a small grunt as he feels his back hit the bed. He blinks rapidly, and as he slowly reorients, he finds Nueng crawling on top of him and grinning.

“Later,” Nueng says simply, hands holding down Palm’s wrists as he grins. “We have some catching up to do first.”

Palm moans when Nueng’s lips touch his again, this time a much hungrier kiss that’s more about staking a claim than anything else. All thoughts fly out the window as he loses himself in the feel of Nueng’s plush lips against his, and before he can even think, his hands fly up to Nueng’s waist. His fingers dance across the bottom seam of his polo shirt and slip underneath, tracing soft, warm skin Palm’s been aching to feel for the past several days.

Well, they can always plan later, he supposes.

-

They do not, in fact, plan later.

It’s a miracle they’re decent by the time Auntie Nid calls them down for dinner, though Palm’s not 100% sure he doesn’t still look a bit too disheveled to justify. Nueng, of course, waved him off saying he looks fine, but he’s hardly the most unbiased judge, considering how much he likes to see Palm flustered and frazzled. It’s not like he’s looking totally pristine either—even with their best efforts, Nueng’s hair is still clearly ruffled in the back, and if anyone asks, they have no good explanation for why he’s changed his clothes in the last half an hour.

Thankfully, if Auntie Nid suspects them at all, she doesn’t say anything, simply ushering them down the dining room.

Thanya and Chanon are, unsurprisingly, already there, with Thanya sitting at the head of the table while Chanon sits to her right. After a brief second of contemplation, Nueng moves to sit on her left, and Palm quickly follows to sit beside him. Chanon raises an eyebrow, clearly puzzled, though Palm’s not sure whether that’s because he chose not to sit next to him, because he disappeared right after they arrived, or because of something else altogether.

Thankfully, that expression is quickly covered by polite pleasantness when Thanya speaks.

“Oh, isn’t this lovely?” she remarks, seemingly ignorant to the tension around the table right now. Or maybe she’s simply choosing to ignore it—Palm was never the best at reading her. “I’m so glad you were both able to make it, Palm, Chanon. It’s a shame we weren’t able to do this earlier.”

Palm nods along pleasantly, hoping the smile on his face actually looks like a smile and not just a grimace.

“Thank you for having us, Khun Thanya,” he says lightly.

“Oh, mom,” Nueng says suddenly, “About that meeting on Monday…”

Nueng and Thanya quickly dissolve into work talk, and Palm immediately relaxes as the spotlight is quickly shifted away from him. He knows this relief won’t last for long, but he’s satisfied with whatever little time he gets to not be the center of attention today.

At the same time, Nueng brings a dish closer to them, helping Palm serve himself without breaking conversation with his mom. Unsurprisingly, Auntie Nid has cooked up a storm for today, filling the dining table with a slew of dishes that they most definitely won’t all be able to finish in one sitting. There are some that Palm can’t even name, and he can’t help but wonder how one person can handle this much cooking.

He silently grabs the bowl from Nueng so he can serve food for him as well, and when he turns to place it back in the center of the table, he immediately catches Chanon’s eye. It makes him jump in his seat slightly, and he feels like he’s just been caught red-handed in a crime, under the cool, unreadable gaze of his father.

Nueng seems to have noticed it as well, tensing slightly even as he casually answers Thanya’s questions without even a hitch in his breath. It’s honestly impressive, how easily he’s able to seemingly keep his cool, and Palm can only hope that he’s doing half a good a job as he looks away from his dad and digs into the food.

The conversation floats around after that, Thanya realizing after a few moments that just talking about work the whole dinner doesn’t exactly make her a good host.

“So, Chanon, tell me, how has retirement been treating you?” she asks lightly, and Palm resists the urge to grimace. His dad doesn’t love the word retirement—he’s just ‘figuring his next steps out,’ he’d always tell Palm—and even now, he seems to struggle with responding to Thanya.

“I, uh, I’ve been enjoying helping Palm at the bar,” Chanon responds, and Thanya just clicks her tongue.

“You’re always keeping so busy, when do you get the chance to relax?”

“Like you’re one to talk, mom,” Nueng quips, and Thanya’s quick to pinch his cheek in retaliation.

“Hush, you.”

“I’m just saying, it wouldn’t kill you to take a break sometimes.”

“Mhm, except if Palm didn’t come into town, you wouldn’t have even taken time off, so don’t you talk to me about workload, mister.”

Thanya says it lightheartedly, nothing but a bit of fun, good-natured teasing, but it makes Nueng tense regardless. Palm watches as he glances over to Chanon, silently appraising him to try and detect anything unusual in his reaction. Chanon is unbearably stoic, though, nothing but a stone that neither Nueng nor Palm could dare to attempt to decode.

Still, Thanya seems to pick up on their anxieties quickly as she skillfully switches the conversation topic to something else. It’s no use, though, because every few minutes, something else comes up that sets the both of them on edge. It doesn’t matter whether it’s an offhanded comment from Chanon about Palm not hiring help for the bar, or a casual remark from Thanya about how much more relaxed Nueng seems today, everything seems to send a line of unexpected tension into the air that they’re only barely able to recover from.

Nueng and Palm artfully skirt around things the best they can, and they make it through about half the dinner like that before Palm is nudging Nueng with his knee. Nueng, who’d been busy pretending to listen to Thanya and Chanon talk about some recent political drama, glances back at him as best as he can without being obvious. His brows are furrowed as he looks back at Palm with a questioning look, but Palm just nods his heads towards Chanon subtly.

Nueng, unsurprisingly, catches on quickly, his eyebrows raising then furrowing as he nods back reluctantly, as though to ask: are you sure? Palm just nods back resolutely at him though. It’s now or never, he supposes, and he’d rather not wait any longer and risk losing his spine.

Nueng seems to be on the same page, because after a deep sigh, he nods back before looking over to their parents once again. Palm follows suit, straightening his posture without thinking as he opens his mouth to speak.

“Dad—”

“Uncle Non—”

They pause, sharing a meaningful glance as both Thanya and Chanon cut off their conversation and look at them with intrigue. There’s this steady resolve in Nueng’s expression, and the sight of it has Palm swallowing the lump in his throat. Nueng gives him a small, barely-noticeable nod before placing his hand on the table, palm-side up. Palm stares it for a brief moment, nods, and lifts his own hand up to place it into Nueng’s, their fingers intertwining silently as they looked back at Chanon.

“Nueng and I are together,” Palm says, voice miraculously steady despite the butterflies threatening to burst through the seams of his insides. “We’re lovers.”

Nueng squeezes his hand, but otherwise stays quiet as they watch Chanon’s face with bated breath. His expression is completely unreadable, and it has Palm’s stomach turning. He’s seen that blank, perfectly neutral expression on his father’s face before while he was working, but never directed at him. Right now, Chanon is a perfect mannequin, his face revealing nothing of the inner workings of his mind, and Palm can barely resist the urge to run away at the sight.

Then, after what could’ve been a minute or a millennium—Palm can’t tell—Chanon sighs.  

“I know.”

…Right.

Palm had prepared for this, of course, mentally going over all the different possibilities of what Chanon could say and how he’d respond. That doesn’t mean shit, though, when they’re actually here in the moment. Palm feels paralyzed by fear, eyes scanning every inch of Chanon’s face for even the slightest hint of emotion. After all, that’s what he had planned for. In his ruminative brainstorming, he had tried to imagine what he’d do if Chanon was furious, thinking Palm had compromised his previous duty to protect Nueng by falling for him or, worse, thinking Nueng had taken advantage of Palm’s loyalty to force him into a relationship.

He thought about what he would do if he was supportive, if he was confused, if he was upset, but all that planning requires Chanon to respond, to say something, to do anything.

Instead, he’s still sitting there with that perfectly schooled expression, a blank wall revealing nothing and concealing anything. It’s almost as though he’s appraising them as much as they are him, taking in every little twitch or tremble in their expressions before he dares respond. Just that thought alone makes the hairs on the back of Palm’s neck respond, and he can’t help but tighten his grip on Nueng’s hand in comfort.

Eventually, though, Chanon takes pity on them, sighing once more before leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms.

“I kinda figured it out,” he starts, and Palm doesn’t know if that faint smile he sees on his father’s face is real, or if he’s finally just gone delusional. “A while back, actually.”

“Since when?” Nueng asks, just a little too quickly, and he flushes in embarrassment as he continues. “I mean… when did you find out, Uncle Non?”

“When Palm was in the hospital.”

Chanon turns to Palm then, staring at him with an intense fondness he hadn’t seen on his father in a long time. That whisper of a smile that Palm had thought he hallucinated has grown, full and warm in a way that Palm hasn’t seen from his father in a long while. His brows are furrowed just a little bit, and he lets out a small, wistful sigh before he continues speaking.

“I was supposed to be in hiding until the court trial happened, but when I found out you had been shot, I couldn’t stop myself from coming to see you. You had just had the surgery and you hadn’t woken up yet, but when I arrived, I found out that the Young Master hadn’t left your side the entire time.”

Palm slowly takes in his words, thinking back to that time. He’d been out cold for two days following his surgery, his body needing the time unconscious to rest and recover. After he’d woken up, Nueng had given him a brief rundown of everything that happened while he was out: he got shot and had a temporarily paralyzed leg, Suphakit got shot and arrested, and Chanon was going to be cleared of all charges. With such a whirlwind conclusion to everything, Palm hadn’t really thought to ask if anything else happened. He certainly hadn’t thought to ask if his dad had come to visit at all.

Clearly, Nueng had missed a couple details in his recollection.

“He told me everything that happened with Suphakit, and about your condition,” Chanon continues. “I thanked him for all of his help and told him he didn’t have to sit with you, that he could go tend to his own matters, but he,” Chanon nodded to Nueng, “refused.”

“I—” Nueng stars, but Chanon quickly interrupts him.

“No matter what I said or did, he just insisted that he would take care of you, that I shouldn’t worry, that I should go back into hiding until the charges against me were all formally cleared.” Chanon pauses, his expression turning thoughtful as he furrows his eyebrows and frowns slightly. “I didn’t want to, obviously. The idea of leaving my son who’d been shot had already been difficult, but knowing that it was my fault…”

“It wasn’t your fault, dad,” Palm half-shouts, because it’s true. The only one to be blamed here is Suphakit, and he’s about to say as much when his dad lifts a hand in a gesture for him to stop.

“I was the one who told you to guard Young Master Nueng, to devote yourself to this family.”

“But—”

“Palm.”

Palm can tell by the look on Chanon’s face that he wouldn’t let this conversation continue any further, so after a moment, he takes a deep breath and gestures for his father to continue.

“I stayed by your side for a day. That whole day not once did the Young Master leave you alone for more than five minutes at a time. Young Master Chopper and his friend had to bring him food because he refused to go out anywhere to eat, and they even brought him fresh clothes and toiletries because he wouldn’t go home to shower and change. The few times he napped during the day, he only slept if he was sat right next to your bed.”

Palm can’t help but break his eye contact with Chanon at that point to gaze at Nueng instead, whose face is now a rosy shade of pink as he stares down at his cutlery like they’re the most interesting thing in the world. Palm had known, vaguely, that Nueng had stayed by him while he was unconscious, but hearing it laid out in detail like this, Palm feels his chest bursting with love and affection for his beloved. He wants to yank Nueng into his arms in an endless embrace, to kiss him breathless, to shout from rooftops just how much he loves him.

But they’re in front of their parents, so Palm contains himself to just squeezing Nueng’s hand.

“But do you want to know how I really figured it out?”

Palm brings his attention back to Chanon, whose expression has softened substantially.

“I have known Young Master Nueng since he was very, very little,” he starts. “I have seen him grow up just as much as I saw you grow up, and throughout all of that time, I have seen firsthand the deep love he has for his parents.”

At that, Nueng glances up at Thanya, who’s been surprisingly quiet during this entire exchange. She smiles back at him, then at Palm, and finally, at Chanon.

“At the same time that you were hospitalized and recovering from surgery, Mrs. Thanya was bedridden. She’d been shot and had been in a coma for weeks with no clear guarantee that she would ever wake up. Even after she did, she was severely weakened, and there was even the possibility that she may be paralyzed from the way the bullet grazed her spine.”

Nueng outwardly winces at the recollection, and Palm squeezes his hand gently.

“And yet,” Chanon continues, “rather than stay with her and take care of her, the Young Master remained glued to your bedside for the entire time I was there and, from what I heard, long after that.” Thanya and Chanon share a knowing glance. “For you to be that important to him, for him to be that steadfast by your side rather than Mrs. Thanya’s… it was obvious just how much you two meant to each other from that alone.”

Both Palm and Nueng are silent, grasping each other’s hands tightly as they mull over the words.

“After that, I knew that even if I had to stay in hiding for a little longer, my son would be okay, because he had such a faithful guardian watching over him.”

“Are, are you okay with it, Uncle Non? About Palm being with… me? A man?”

Palm glances over at Nueng, surprised that he spoke up first, but he supposes it makes sense. They’re incredibly lucky, they know, that Thanya is whole-heartedly supportive and has been since the beginning. There’s no guarantee that it’ll be the same with Chanon, though.

Not even considering the history between their families, Palm had never even once hinted at his interest in men to his father. He’d been hopeful, of course, after seeing his reaction to Nueng being outed. When the photo of Ben and Nueng’s kissed leaked and Nueng’s sexuality was aired out to the whole school, Thanya had confided in Chanon, shared her fears of Nueng being ostracized or hated just because of who he loved.

Palm himself only knew about this conversation because that night, Chanon had sat him down and made him swear that this incident wouldn’t compromise his loyalty to Nueng and the Kiattrakulmethee family. At the time, he’d seemed quite sympathetic to Nueng, but at the same time, he’d had no idea how his own son fit into this picture.

It was always easy for people to accept things until it affected their family, after all.

“I didn’t like it, at first.”

Chanon’s words pull Palm out of his reverie, and he can’t stop himself from tensing once he processes the words. Nueng is no better, his grip on Palm getting impossibly tighter as he tries and fails to school his expression into a neutral one. The little furrow in his eyebrows gives him away, and Palm fights to urge to kiss it away.

Instead, he looks back at his father, who’s looking solely at Nueng now.

“I was worried that Palm made a mistake,” he says, and Palm’s blood is boiling before he can stop it.

Slamming his hand on the table and standing up, he shouts, “Dad—!”

“I wasn’t done,” Chanon interrupts him cooly, returning Palm’s heated glare with a calm stare, but after a moment, his expression morphs into something softer, more apologetic. “Palm, please.”

At this, Nueng squeezes his hand, and when Palm meets his gaze, he’s staring at him with silent plea in his eyes. Gritting his teeth, Palm finally sits back down, but he keeps his gaze stony as Chanon turns to look back at Nueng.

“I wasn’t worried about you being a man. I was worried that Palm mistaken his duty to protect and care for you as love, and that you’d both end up hurting each other in the end,” Chanon clarifies.

“Dad—"

“I know you’re both adults,” Chanon keeps going as though Palm never spoke, “but you’re also incredibly young. You’ve been through more in the past several months than most people will ever go through in their lives. You were attacked, threatened, chased, nearly killed. You went into hiding after a deeply traumatic incident, where the only ones you had to rely on, the only ones you could trust, were each other. In the heat of something like that, it’d be easy to call your feelings love, even if it wasn’t.”

Palm swallows, but the knot in his throat seems to only grow. They wait with bated breath as the seconds pass by, tense silence filling the room.

And then, finally, a small smile cracks Chanon’s face again.

“But… I don’t have that fear anymore.”

Palm blinks, looking at Nueng who’s looking back at him with eyes wide in anticipation, an expression Palm is sure he’s sporting himself too. When they look back at their parents, they find Chanon and Thanya grinning, sharing this knowing look that Palm can’t even begin to decipher.

“Dad—”

“I won’t dare assume that only I know what’s best for you,” Chanon cuts him off, “or that I have the authority to dictate how your lives go. All I ask is that you continue to care for each other, to support each other, to protect each other no matter what happens.”

“We will,” Nueng says, firm and unrelenting in his tone as he looks at Palm with the same fierce dedication he always does. “Always.”

“Always,” Palm parrots, unable to stop himself this time from bringing their joined hands to his face and pressing a soft kiss to Nueng’s knuckles. His ears go red as he hears Thanya hum pleasantly at the sight, but he can’t find it in himself to care much when Nueng is looking back at him with all the love in the world.

“Alright, alright, let’s finish eating,” Thanya chimes in, clearly amused as she serves herself some rice.

Conversation come surprisingly easily after that, as Thanya quickly transitions to asking about how the bar’s been doing and apologizing for keeping Nueng away for so long. Chanon gives Palm a once-over at that, and Palm can feel his face burning as he stumbles over reassuring Thanya that it’s totally fine, he understands, his dad’s been such a great help in running the bar while Nueng’s been away.

At the same time, Palm’s traitorous brain starts imagining what life will be like once they do go back to the bar, all three of them. Somehow, the idea of his dad and Nueng working side-by-side, serving drinks and cleaning dishes, feels outright comical, and it takes all of his mental effort to not burst out in laughter right then and there.

He’s sure he must still look bizarre, judging by the amused side-eye Nueng gives him at one point, but that’s neither here nor there.

He’s almost entirely relaxed, when Thanya speaks up again.

“Oh, and before I forget,” she says as conversation begins to lull, “we should figure out where you’ll both be sleeping before it gets too late. Where did you put your bags?”

Palm freezes, all coherent thought flying out the window as he processes the question.

It’s such a simple thing, but the idea of just saying ‘oh yeah, I’ll be spending the night with your son’ makes the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. He glances quickly at his dad, then at Nueng, and then back at Thanya as he wracks his brain for something to say. He hardly has a chance to think, though, before Nueng’s pitching in.

“Palm’s gonna be in my room,” he chirps, seemingly unaware of Palm’s internal panic.

Instead, he just curls an arm around Palm’s slyly and grins at him when their eyes meet. In any normal circumstances, he’d preen at the affection, maybe shower Nueng’s cheek with a kiss or ten, but being in front of his dad and his ex-boss/future-mother-in-law seemed to kick any flirtatious sense out of him.

Luckily, Thanya looks amused at the situation, while Chanon only looks mildly uncomfortable.

“Well, if you keep your door open, then I suppose that’s fine,” she teases.

Palm immediately flushes red at the implication, but Nueng takes it in stride, just frowning and clinging tighter to Palm’s arm.

“Mooooom,” he groans. “We’re not kids. We were basically living together on the island. You don’t have to keep an eye on us.”

“Well, you weren’t at home then,” Thanya retorts. “Why? Should I be worried about what you two are getting up to alone?”

“Mom!”

Nueng’s full-blown pouting now, and even the awkwardness he feels can’t stop Palm from grinning at the sight.

“I’ll stay wherever Nueng wants, Mrs. Thanya,” he says, and he’s rewarded with a beaming grin from Nueng.

Thanya nods, turning to look expectantly at Chanon, who looks nothing short of a deer in headlights.

“I, er, uh…” he gets out, and something about the sight of his dad so out of his element makes it hard for Palm to hold back laughter. “If my old room is avail—”

“Let’s get you settled into a guest room upstairs, shall we?” Thanya cuts him off purposefully, a glint in her eye.

Her intention is clear—Chanon is a guest, a visitor, a friend, but not an employee. There’s a depth to this moment that feels palpable, and Palm risks looking to his side to see Nueng giving his mom a knowing glance. She doesn’t acknowledge it, though, keeping her cool, but kind gaze locked on Chanon as he loses himself to his own mental gymnastics.

“I…” Chanon trails off, clearly torn between arguing and acquiescing. But Thanya is stubborn—Nueng had to get it from somewhere—and no one, even Chanon, is equipped to deal with her full might.

“We’ll get you settled after we finish eating,” she says, her tone clear with the finality she demands.

“Y…yes, of course.”

Thanya smiles to herself, clearly pleased, before her expression turns thoughtful.

“Hm, but you know, it’s still so early for bed…” she muses. “Maybe we should do something after dinner?”

Frankly, Palm feels like he could pass out any second now, exhaustion from both the travel here and the emotional anticipation of how tonight would go wearing him down bit by bit. He’s sure Nueng feels the same way too, and he opens his mouth as though to say something about it when Thanya speaks up again.

“Oh, I know! How about a movie?”

-

Thirty minutes of casual chatter, final bites of rice, and awkward shuffling around later, and they’re all settled in the lounge with some cheesy rom-com on in the background.

Palm tries not to feel too out-of-place sat here, doing his best just to focus on the movie and Nueng at his side instead, but it’s hard. He never really lingered around here during his time working at the Kiattrakulmethee mansion, tending to keep his head down and hop between his bedroom, the kitchens, and the pool as much as he could. He hadn’t needed to keep an eye on Nueng while he was just relaxing at home, after all, and those small breaks from his duty turned out to be blissful respites for him to figure out his budding feelings for Nueng. 

Of course, he’d still passed by other areas of the house before, including this lounge, pristine and perfect as it was. He won’t lie— it feels like an almost entirely different room now. It looks and feels far more lived-in now than it ever did the months Palm lived here, in no short part due to the regular movie nights that Thanya and Nueng had apparently been having.

Apparently, after the whole Suphakit issue, after Palm had left Nueng, one of the ways Thanya had tried to cheer him up was through more mother-son bonding time. Whether that be trips—personal trips, not for work—special dinners, or even just casual nights in, she had made it a point to always have some time in her schedule just to be with Nueng. That was how it used to be, back before Pipop died, and it was something Nueng had desperately needed during the three months he and Palm were apart.

Nueng had told Palm about this a while ago, and while he hated himself for being the reason it needed to happen, in a twisted sort of way, he’s kinda glad that his running away helped Thanya and Nueng get even closer.

Still, he digresses. Since then, so many areas of the home feel so much more comfortable and homey than they ever did before, including this lounge. The previously crisp, untouched throw pillows have been crumpled and wrinkled with use, light sweaters and blankets are scattered across the couches for comfort, and a single sheet of paper with a list of movie names is taped on the coffee table. Several of the titles have already been crossed off, no doubt the victims of previous movie nights.

Nueng, himself, has gotten exceedingly comfortable, barely even watching the movie as he leans his body into Palm’s side and totally relaxes. He’s thrown a blanket over both of them too, and just like this, it’s hard to tell whether Nueng’s watching, sleeping, or somewhere in between.

To be honest, Palm feels himself close to dozing off too, as the adrenaline high from telling his dad about his relationship starts to wear off around the same time the comfortable post-dinner relaxation starts to set in. Curled up on the couch with Nueng just like this, he could probably zone out and fall asleep within minutes.

He very nearly does, when suddenly, he feels Nueng jerk in his arms.

Palm looks down, ready to adjust if Nueng was feeling uncomfortable, but he pauses in his tracks at what he sees. Nueng doesn’t move again, but his face is tense even in sleep. There are small beads of sweat starting to form on his forehead, and his breath is coming out shakier than it should. Eyebrows furrowed, lips pursed, Nueng has a line of tension running through his whole face, and Palm knows what’s happening before he even hears the first whimper escape Nueng’s lips.

“Nueng,” he murmurs, quickly shifting in his seat to bring Nueng closer to him with both arms.

Nightmares.

Though the frequency has blissfully declined over the past few months, they both get them frequently enough to know all the telltale signs in each other. Quickly, but still gently so as not to startle him, Palm wraps an arm around Nueng’s legs and tugs them towards him, lifting them and letting them lay across his lap. He gets as far as shifting his arm to wrap around Nueng’s waist before the first noise escapes Nueng’s lips, a broken gasp that’s almost inaudible over the sounds from the movie.

Almost, but not quite.

Palm glances up to see Thanya turn to them, a light smile still on her face as she enjoys whatever dramatic scene is playing on the TV. At first, she just smiles wider at the sight of Palm and Nueng tucked close together, an endeared expression only a parent could have. That quickly drops, however, when she looks at them for a second longer, taking in the tension in Nueng’s face and the worry in Palm’s.

“Nueng? Palm?” Thanya asks. “Nueng, honey? Is everything okay?” When she hears no response, she changes tactics. “Palm, what’s wrong with Nueng?”

Chanon’s looking over now too, surprised and concerned, and Palm immediately opens his mouth to explain. His jaw snaps shut, however, when Nueng suddenly lets out a loud keen, his hand subconsciously clutching at Palm’s shirt like a lifeline.

“No… no, no, nonono,” Nueng is muttering frantically under his breath, head shaking rapidly as his body starts to quiver. Palm holds him close, one arm firmly wrapped around his waist while his free hand goes to cup at Nueng’s cheek and raise his head to face him.

“Nueng,” he says, quiet but firm. He rubs circles into Nueng’s hip, putting just enough pressure for him to feel it even through his dreams. Meanwhile, he gently pats Nueng’s cheek, urging his conscious brain to take over and wake him up. “Nueng, baby, it’s me. It’s Palm, baby, Palm. C’mon, it’s okay, you’re okay, it’s just a bad dream.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Palm can see Thanya standing, the movie entirely forgotten. Thankfully, though she doesn’t make any move to come closer, at least not yet, instead just watching from afar with worry in every inch of her face. Chanon stays seated, but he’s watching the scene like a hawk, poised to jump into action at a split-second. Palm knows they must be freaking out, as they often do when Nueng’s involved, but he’s grateful they stay back—the two of them fretting over them really won’t help anything right now.

Nueng lets out another cry, and Palm brings all of his attention back to him. He returns to gently tapping and rubbing at Nueng’s skin, watching his face closely for the first signs of wakefulness. All the while, he continues to murmur quiet reassurances to him, letting his voice lull Nueng out of whatever nightmare he’s having back into reality. Not once does he let Nueng go, and soon enough, those beautiful eyes that Palm loves so dearly as fluttering open.

Blinking a few times, Nueng stares at Palm for a moment, his eyes shining with unshed tears and his gaze dazed and unfocused as his brain caught up to the present day. That only lasts a few seconds though, and just a beat later, recognition flashes in Nueng’s face as his eyes open wide and his breath hitches.

That’s the only warning Palm gets before Nueng is flinging himself forward, throwing his arms around Palm’s shoulders and letting out a painfully loud sob.

“Palm,” he cries, embracing Palm with all the strength he can muster, and Palm curls both of his arms around Nueng’s waist and holds him just as tightly.

“You’re okay, you’re okay.”

Palm has no idea how much time passes like that, with Nueng crying in his arms, but it doesn’t matter. He stays rooted in place, letting Nueng’s hands clutch onto him as his life support and his tears soak into his shirt. By now, Thanya has floated closer to them, but she looks terrified, her hand half-raised as though wanting to comfort Nueng, but unsure if she can. As much as he can in this position, Palm turns his head to her and nods shortly, trying to give her a reassuring smile when she finally lays one hand on Nueng’s back.

“Everything’s alright, son,” she says, mirroring Palm’s soft reassurances. Nueng lets out a strangled cry, but Palm can tell it helps by the way his grip loosens just a fraction.

“What was it this time?” he asks, making sure to keep his mouth pressed against Nueng’s ear and his voice low, so neither Thanya nor Chanon could hear it. Nueng just shakes his vigorously, clutching onto Palm impossibly tighter and hiccupping uncontrollably. “Nueng?”

“You…” he starts, voice shaking. “You didn’t… After… Uncle Kit, he… he kil—”

Nueng can’t bring himself to say it, words breaking off with another wet sob, and Palm holds him tighter. It’s been a while, since he’s dreamed of Palm’s death, and it’s always the one that’s been the hardest to deal with. It’d been far worse, Nueng had told him, during the three months they were apart, when even though Nueng’s rational brain knew Palm was alive and well somewhere away from him, his subconscious brain kept putting these images of him dead into Nueng’s brain.

It’s yet another reason that even now, guilt eats away at Palm for having left Nueng at all.

Even now that they’re back together again, Nueng gets most shaken up by this nightmare. No other nightmare seems to set him off quite like this—not the recollections of his father or Mamma Mam’s death, not the scenarios of his mother dying, not even the dreams of Palm just leaving him or breaking up with him. Just the thought of Palm dying, especially dying protecting him, sends him into a spiral of guilt and fear and pain that’s never easy to come back from.

And Palm gets it, he really does, because it’s the same way for him. Nothing tears him apart nearly as much as nightmares of Nueng’s possible death, whether that be from the day Thanya got shot, or from that night when Nueng was home alone and went 1-to-1 with a gunman in his house, or even that terrible night with Suphakit. Every time, Palm’s subconscious conjures up the worst images possible, all stemming from the underlying terror of: what if he hadn’t been quick enough to save Nueng? It’s wholly irrational. He knows that, Nueng knows that, but his brain sure as hell doesn’t seem to know that.

But it’s alright—they’re together now, and they’re sure as hell not going to lose each other to nightmares.

After a few more minutes of gently soothing Nueng with his touch and soft words of comfort, Palm finally feels his trembling subside. He’s still sniffling, but sobs are no longer wracking his body, and after a moment, he’s slowly untangling himself from Palm’s arms to look at him.

“Hey,” Palm says quietly, running his hands gently up and down Nueng’s side.

“Hey,” Nueng replies and smiles weakly, which Palm quickly returns with a soft smile of his own.

“Better?” Nueng nods simply, before turning to his side. Palm follows his gaze to see Thanya, whose face is still pinched with worry.

“Nueng…” she murmurs, her voice stricken as she kneels down and brings both hands up to cup Nueng’s cheeks and thumb at the tear tracks on his cheeks. “Are you okay, son?”

Nueng sniffles again and nods, unwinding one arm from his vice grip on Palm to rest over one of her hands instead.

“Mhm,” he replies quietly, eyes flickering to the long-forgotten TV screen, “Sorry, I ruined movie night.”

“The movie was boring anyway,” Thanya quips, and Nueng lets out a shaky laugh in response. “Does… does that happen often?”

Nueng averts his gaze, and Palm rubs his hand down his back in comfort.

“Not often, just… sometimes, I guess,” Nueng replies after a minute, looking like he’d rather be anywhere but here. “It’s gotten better with time… and Palm helps.”

“Just returning the favor,” Palm says softly, and he knows Thanya picks up the hint from the way her eyes widen a fraction.

She lets out a soft sigh, and before Palm knows himself, he finds himself being engulfed in a loose hug. Thanya wraps her arms around the both of them and draws them close, her warm hands rubbing their shoulders slowly.

“I’m sorry,” she says quietly, and when Nueng makes a quiet dissenting noise, she simply continues, “You’re only children, and you’ve been through so, so much more than you ever should’ve had to.”

She pulls away then, letting them both pull back to meet her gaze. Her eyes are shiny with unspilled tears, and she reaches up to cup both of their faces gently.

“Take care of each other, okay? This life isn’t easy, but it’s bearable when you have those you love with you to support you.”

“Mom…” Nueng murmurs, voice tinged with awe.

Thanya simply smiles at him and leans in to press a soft kiss to his temple before turning and doing the same to Palm’s. Palm gapes at her, resisting the temptation to raise his hand up to where her lips touched. Something about it, about her demeanor, about her calm smile strikes a chord in Palm, and he feels the emotions bubbling inside of him. It reminds him, oddly enough, of Mamma Mam in those last few moments before she was shot, and just the thought makes his chest tight.

Unable to help himself, he sneaks a glance up at his dad, only to see Chanon staring right back at him. He’s stood just a couple steps behind Thanya, staring at the scene before him with a deep-set frown and furrowed brows, the most upset Palm’s ever seen his father look. The second their eyes meet, Chanon scooches forward, bringing a hand up to clasp on Palm’s shoulder tightly—not in punishment, but in comfort.

“You’re both incredibly strong,” he says, gaze flickering back and forth between Palm and Nueng. “Any challenge you face will be nothing, so long as you have each other. Remember that.”

Chanon is smiling then—a real, genuine, heartfelt smile that Palm can’t remember ever seeing on his father’s face, and it’s contagious. His own lips curl upwards as he nods, and when he turns back to look at them, he sees Thanya and Nueng smiling as well.

They retire to bed soon after that, the emotional exhaustion of the day finally taking its toll on the both of them as they waddle upstairs to Nueng’s room. It’s a battle just to get changed into sleepwear, and by the time they’ve said their “good night”s to their respective parents and gotten ready for bed, they’re barely conscious.

Palm falls asleep cradled in Nueng’s arms that night, his breath even and limbs heavy as for once, he simply allows himself to be.

And somehow, that’s enough.