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“Oh dear,” Cher’s mom said from behind the counter of their gold shop. Cher looked up from the merchandise he’d been organizing and followed her gaze to the window. “The Phadetseuk boy is back again.”
In front of the shop, a man was pacing back and forth like a pendulum. He appeared to be talking to himself.
“Who?” Cher asked, but his mom didn't bother answering his question. She was too busy running away.
“Don’t let him see me,” she whispered furtively as if the boy outside was capable of hearing through walls. “He’s starting to get suspicious. He thinks I’m overpaying him, but he’ll believe it coming from you. Whatever he’s selling, just give it to him at cost.”
“So you are overpaying him?”
“Hush,” his mom scolded. “He needs the money more than we do.”
“But—” Before Cher could argue that they would be the ones pawning their belongings if they didn’t turn a profit, his mom rounded the corner and disappeared into the back room. Right on cue, the bell over the door rang. The man was taller than he’d looked through the window. More attractive, too. His eyes were the color of amber.
Cher put on his best customer service smile. “Good morning, Phi. What can I help you with today?”
“I’m here to sell,” the man said, stepping up to the glass display case Cher was standing behind. He was looking around as if in search of Cher’s mom, but Cher couldn’t tell whether he was relieved or disappointed that she wasn’t there. “I can come back later—”
“No, I can do it,” Cher said, ducking down to pull out their gold testing kit. When he resurfaced, he set it on the counter and then held his hand out expectantly. The man swallowed hard before finally reaching into his pocket and pulling out a pair of matching gold rings. Wedding bands. He gave them one last look before passing them over.
“These seem sentimental,” Cher noted.
The man raised a single eyebrow in his direction. The amber caught fire in his eyes. “Do you pay more for that?”
“Sorry,” Cher said with a smirk. He was nosy by nature. It was rare for someone to be brave enough to call him out on it. He had a face people found too adorable to argue with. “It’s none of my business.”
He rubbed each of the rings across a black slate and performed an acid test on the etchings to check the gold for authenticity. He could feel the man watching him the whole time. The store felt too quiet.
“I’m Cher,” he said, glancing up just long enough to smile. He never had been a fan of silence. “My mom owns this place.”
This seemed to relax the man somewhat. His muscles uncoiled. “I’m Yei.”
“And what do you do for work, P’Yei?” Cher asked. Yei had the body of an athlete and the face of a model. That alone should have been enough to earn him a decent living without having to resort to selling family heirlooms. Cher had just graduated top of his class with a business degree and people’s poor financial decisions called to him like a puzzle.
“I own the Phadetseuk Boxing Gym down the street,” Yei answered. It was his turn to smirk. “Why? Are you concerned I’m not managing my money properly?”
Cher felt his cheeks burn, but he was determined not to show any outward embarrassment. “I was just curious.”
There were several long seconds of silence as Cher continued working and Yei continued staring. Cher could feel Yei's eyes on him like a physical touch. He resisted the urge to shiver.
“How old are you?” Yei asked. It was a common question. Cher had never quite been able to shed the baby fat from his cheeks and people didn’t like their gold to be handled by children.
“Old enough,” he said, throwing his nose into the air.
Yei smiled and then explained, more patiently than Cher deserved, “The gym hasn’t been able to host matches since COVID started and that’s my primary source of income, so…here I am.”
“Here you are,” Cher agreed. The acid test had come back positive for both rings, so he weighed them and then offered Yei a price. At cost. Just like his mother had instructed.
Yei frowned. “That seems a bit high.”
“Are you calling me a liar?”
“No,” Yei amended hastily. “Fine. You have a deal.”
They signed the papers, exchanged the money, and then it was time for Yei to leave. He looked down at the rings one last time and there was a sadness in his eyes that haunted Cher. That’s the only explanation he had for what he said next.
“Does your gym offer lessons? I’ve been thinking of taking up boxing.”
“You have?” Yei asked, his judgmental eyebrows back in full force.
Cher, who had never willingly played a sport in his life, shrugged. “Sure. Why not?”
“We can’t hold group lessons right now because of social distancing. Maybe in a few weeks. If we’re lucky.”
“Private lessons, then,” Cher countered. “Do you offer those?”
Yei narrowed his eyes. “You seriously want to pay me to teach you boxing?”
Cher looked Yei over, dragging his gaze from his face to his well-toned body. Although the idea of boxing held no particular fascination for Cher , the idea of watching Yei box? That was a different story. That he was willing to pay for.
“Yes,” he said confidently. “I do.”
It took Cher twenty minutes to pick out what he wanted to wear for his first boxing lesson. He didn’t have much in the way of options—his usual attire was a bit more refined—but he eventually decided on a tank top with open sides and the shortest pair of shorts he owned. He wasn’t sure what it was about Yei, but he felt drawn to him. He wanted to make a good impression.
Yei was mid-workout and already covered in sweat when Cher arrived.
“I wasn’t sure you would make it,” he greeted, discarding his gloves and grabbing a towel so that he could wipe the sweat from his forehead. He was shirtless and breathing heavily and Cher found himself, for maybe the first time in his life, speechless. It took him several seconds to realize Yei was waiting for him to respond.
“I told you I would,” he said.
“You did,” Yei agreed with a small laugh. He grabbed a water bottle from amongst his things and took a large swig. Cher watched as his Adam’s apple bobbed with each swallow. Once he was done, he re-capped the bottle and pulled a tank top over his still sweaty form. “Come on then. Let’s get started.”
The first thing he taught Cher was the appropriate stance. “Arms up,” he said, so Cher raised his arms in some approximation of what he had seen boxers do on TV. He watched as Yei clocked the pride tattoo on his right forearm and then quickly looked away, and although it was hard to tell since he had been flushed from exertion already, Cher could have sworn he blushed.
Cher wasn’t ignorant to the way he looked; he had long ago learned to use it as a weapon. He had this doe-eyed innocence about him and features soft enough to attract even the attention of straight men. But straight men didn’t blush at the sight of him. They didn’t take great pains not to touch him, even when touching would be easier.
“Which foot?” he asked a little while later. Yei was behind him now, close enough that Cher could feel the heat from his body, but not close enough to touch.
“Your left one.” Yei was starting to get annoyed now. Cher purposefully moved his right foot instead. “Do you not know your left from your right? This one.” Finally, Yei reached out and smacked Cher’s thigh in demonstration. Cher counted it as a win.
After Yei had maneuvered Cher into the correct position, they practiced punching. Cher found the exercise simultaneously infuriating and exciting—infuriating because he wasn’t particularly good at it, but exciting because no matter how hard he hit him, Yei didn’t budge. It was like Cher was punching a brick wall. He couldn’t help but think that Yei’s assets were wasted in a boxing ring.
The lesson lasted an hour and then it was over. It was too soon. It wasn’t soon enough. Yei passed Cher a water bottle and then the two of them collapsed down onto the mat to drink together. Although there were other boxers in the gym, no one paid them any mind.
“You’re not bad for a beginner,” Yei said.
Cher snorted. “I think my beauty might have blinded you to my lack of talent, Phi.”
Yei looked away, a smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah, well…” He trailed off, the thought unfinished, but Cher couldn’t help but notice that he didn’t deny it. It gave him the confidence he needed to stand up and make his way over to the wall where a series of photographs were hung. He’d been trying to get a better look at them all lesson.
Just as he’d suspected, the largest one right in the center was of Yei. He was younger in the picture, his hair shorter, his muscles slightly more pronounced, but there was no doubt that it was him. Cher felt someone walk up behind him.
“Is that you?” he asked, turning. Yei was closer than he’d expected him to be and it was slightly unnerving to suddenly be able to make out the flecks of green in his eyes, but Cher didn’t pull away. Yei didn’t either.
“Yeah,” Yei agreed, turning from Cher to the picture. “That was the day I won the world championship. Just like my dad.”
“He must have been proud of you,” Cher said.
“I guess,” Yei said with a shrug. There was a look on his face that Cher couldn’t quite read. “But then I got injured.” He backed away, whatever was between them gone. “Same time next week?”
“Um, yeah, sure,” Cher said, but Yei was already gone, collecting his things from the mat where he’d left them. Cher showed himself from the building.
Over the next few weeks, Cher made minimal progress with his boxing, but major progress with Yei. Cher couldn’t tell whether Yei liked him, exactly, but he was certainly fond. It was a start.
“I don’t want to work out today, P’Yei,” Cher whined as soon as he stepped foot in the gym for their fourth lesson. He grabbed Yei’s arm, looked him in the eyes, and pouted. “Please don’t make me.”
“You’re paying for the lesson,” Yei reminded him. “I’m not going to let you waste your money watching me box. Not again.”
But despite his protestations, Yei wasn’t immune to Cher’s charm. He ended the lesson early and they went out for smoothies instead. Cher paid. Yei let him.
“Do you like owning a gym?” Cher asked as they sat out in the sunlight sipping their drinks.
“I like boxing,” Yei said and then shrugged as if he had never given the question much thought. “The business side of things is a bit lost on me, but yeah. I think I like it. It’s all I’ve ever known.” He paused and then turned to Cher pointedly. “You know what I don’t like? Teaching spoiled brats how to box.”
Cher gasped in faux outrage and reached across the table to shove Yei playfully in the chest. His hand touched nothing but hard muscle. “I’m not spoiled,” he countered. “I just think I ought to be.”
“Yes,” Yei said with a grin. “You’ve made that perfectly clear.”
It was during their next lesson that Cher gave up the act completely. He’d been trying unsuccessfully to land a punch on Yei for over ten minutes when the frustration finally overwhelmed him. Realizing that playing fair was getting him nowhere, he kicked out with his foot and swept Yei’s legs out from under him. Yei immediately toppled, but what Cher hadn’t expected was for him to grab Cher and drag him down with him.
They fell onto the mat together, Yei on his back with Cher sprawled on top of him, their limbs tangled, their lips close enough to kiss. For a second, they both just stared, lost in thought, lost in possibility, until a sound from the other side of the gym startled them apart.
“I didn’t know you had that in you,” Yei said with a laugh. He didn’t bother to stand, which Cher was grateful for. Instead, they sat down next to each other on the mat and removed their glovrs. This time when their legs touched, Yei didn’t pull away. “A bit against regulation, but—”
“I don’t actually care about boxing,” Cher interrupted.
“You don’t say?” Yei teased. “You know I can make ends meet even without your extra thousand baht a week, right? Why do you keep coming back if you don’t like it?”
“Because I like you.”
Yei’s mouth opened in surprise as if he had assumed the flirting was just a game they were playing. It wasn’t. It never had been. Not with him. “Cher,” Yei started, but Cher didn’t like his tone, so he interrupted him.
“You know what I really want to do?” he asked with a suggestive drawl, leaning forward so that they were only a breath apart.
“What?” Yei asked. His eyes drifted down to Cher’s lips.
“I want you to give me a good look at your…” He trailed off, pausing for dramatic effect. “Finances.”
Yei rolled his eyes and pulled away. “Yeah, okay,” he mocked.
“I’m serious,” Cher said and for maybe the first time since they’d met, he let the playful air he carried around with him like a shield fade into something more serious. “I think I could help you. C’mon, Phi. What do you have to lose?”
He saw the exact moment Yei’s resolve finally crumbled.
“Everything’s in the office,” Yei said, leading Cher through the gym. “I can’t promise it’s in any kind of order, though.”
“I wasn’t expecting it to be,” Cher said.
Yei opened the door and froze. Cher looked around him to find another man already inside. The man glanced over at the two of them and, unsure what else to do, Cher waved. Yei sighed heavily as if the two of them meeting was the most unfortunate thing to happen to him all day.
“Cher, this is my brother, Yak,” he introduced, finally allowing Cher into the room. “Yak, this is Cher—the boxing student I told you about.”
Yak took one look at Cher—at his short shorts and his rainbow tattoo and his tank top that had “God’s Favorite Twink” written across the breast—and smirked. “I think you may have left some things out,” he said, but it seemed like he was done with whatever he’d come into the office to do because he pushed past them towards the door. “Have fun now.”
“We’re not—” Yei started, but before he could finish, the door slammed shut.
“We’re not what?” Cher asked innocently.
Yei rolled his eyes. “Don’t you start, too.”
Cher sat down in front of the laptop and Yei leaned over him, clicking around to find the records Cher asked him for. Once he had them all pulled up, Yei tried to explain them, but it was clear he barely knew what he was talking about and Cher had always found it was better to let the numbers speak for themselves. He turned and forcibly pushed Yei away.
“Shoo,” he said. “Leave me alone to work. I’ll call if I need you.”
Yei looked hesitant to leave Cher alone with his livelihood but in the end, he did. “I’ll order us dinner,” he said and then he was gone.
It took a week for Cher to get everything in order. He called vendors, negotiated prices, and even convinced a few of his friends who were actually interested in boxing to sign up for classes. By the end, the number at the bottom of the budget sheet had turned from red to black.
“It’s not a permanent solution, but it’ll get you through the next couple months,” he said as he finished explaining everything he’d done to Yei. They were in the office where Cher had made a bit of a home for himself over the past few days and Yei was looking at the financial statements over his shoulder, his eyebrows furrowed as if despite Cher’s detailed explanation, he still didn’t understand how it was possible. “Hopefully by then, the world will be back to normal. The loan’s a separate issue, but you’ll be able to afford the minimum payment for now.”
Yei looked from Cher to the computer and then back again. “But…how? What?”
“You also need to hire an office manager once you have some cash flow again,” Cher continued. “No offense, but your records are a mess. If you ever get audited, they’re going to send you to jail for fraud.”
“Yeah, well, I learned from my father and his records were much worse than mine, I promise you.” He looked at Cher and there was a softness in his eyes that hadn’t been there before. It was as if he was a caged bird that had finally been set free. “I don’t know how to thank you.”
Cher smirked. “Well, I wouldn’t say no to a kiss.”
He had meant it as a joke, but it was as if Yei had known what he planned to say the whole time because Cher’s lips were still puckered on the final word when Yei leaned in and pressed his lips to his. If Cher was being honest, he hadn’t been expecting it. He’d been flirting with Yei for weeks, but Yei had never reciprocated. The most he’d ever gotten out of him was a blush. But he wasn’t about to waste the opportunity. He reached for Yei, wanting to pull him closer, but before he could even touch him, Yei pulled away.
“Sorry,” Yei said. “I—”
Cher grabbed him by the back of the neck and pulled him in again, kissing him harder this time, more desperately, but after only a few seconds, Yei stopped him.
“Wait,” he said. He was breathless and flushed, his eyes roaming Cher’s face as if he were trying to memorize it. “We can’t.”
“Why not?” Cher asked.
Yei shook his head. “I don’t know.” Then he was kissing him again—and this time, he didn’t stop. He was an impatient lover. Cher liked that.
Yei quickly became annoyed by their position—the arm of Cher’s chair was preventing them from touching fully—so, without once breaking their kiss, he picked Cher up and set him down on top of the desk instead. He lifted him without difficulty and it made Cher’s head spin with ideas. Before he could give voice to any of them, Yei swept a whole sheath of papers off of the desk.
“P’Yei!” Cher protested, turning his mouth away from Yei’s lips. Yei didn’t seem to mind. He kissed his neck instead. “I’m going to have to clean all that up!”
“I’ll help you,” Yei said and then he dropped to his knees. Cher found that he no longer cared about the mess.
“Can I?” Yei asked, reaching for the hem of Cher’s shorts. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to.”
“Please,” Cher said, nodding. Yei quickly divested him of his pants. Cher didn’t even have time to feel self-conscious about his own arousal before Yei was taking him into his mouth.
Cher lost himself to the pleasure.
Although Cher had dated boys before, he had never dated someone who truly felt like his equal. Someone he could see himself spending his life with. A partner. A friend. They moved in together after only three months. It seemed stupid not to. He was spending all his time at the gym anyway.
One night after they’d made love, Cher was lying in the bed that had become theirs, running his fingers along Yei’s face as Yei stared at him with those beautiful amber eyes, and he just knew that this was the image he wanted to see every night for the rest of his life. Overcome with emotion, he kissed Yei on the tip of his nose, climbed out of bed, and slipped Yei’s discarded T-shirt over his head before walking towards the closet.
“What are you doing?” Yei asked sleepily. “Come back to bed.”
Cher didn’t reply. Instead, he fished a small black velvet bag out of the pocket of one of his jackets it was never cold enough to wear. Then he walked back to the bed and climbed under the covers.
“Here,” he said, handing Yei the bag. “These are yours.”
Yei sat up and took the bag out of Cher’s hand hesitantly. He dumped the contents into his palm. Inside were two gold rings. He looked at Cher in surprise. “Are these…?”
“The ones you sold me, yes.”
Yei shook his head and immediately tried to give them back. “I don’t need your charity.”
“It’s not charity,” Cher answered, closing Yei’s fingers around the rings again. “It’s incredibly selfish, actually. I’m just giving them to you for safekeeping. You have to return them to me someday.”
His heart was racing, willing Yei to understand, and he saw the moment it finally clicked. Yei looked from the rings in his hand—the wedding rings—to Cher, his eyes filled with both disbelief and love. Cher wondered if he was imagining, like he was, the two of them standing in front of an altar, exchanging the rings that had started it all.
“Think you can do that?” Cher asked, doing his best to sound nonchalant.
“Yeah,” Yei said, his voice softly reverent. He leaned forward and rested his forehead against Cher’s. “I most certainly can.”