Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Chapter 1  

The thing is, Phum hadn’t meant to lie. He’d lied to his friends about Peem (a lie by omission, but still a lie ) and he was quite done with it. But he’d been talking to Peem, sharing the broken pieces of his childhood, and he had gotten scared. Terrified, that this new, fragile thing with Peem would fracture, replaced with pity. 

So he’d shared half-truths, admitting that he was a sickly child, that he was sent away and given the name Phum so that he would be strong. 

And yet, in a fit of cosmic irony, Phum was the opposite of his name when it came to Peem. He’d lied, hidden a key aspect of his past because he was scared. Weak.  

The door opening pulls him from his thoughts, and Phum tightens his hold on his bear and settles back on the sofa as Peem steps through the doorway. 

“Thinking hard?” Peem teases. “I didn’t expect to startle the great Phum just by opening the door.” Peem pauses for a moment before crossing the space, taking a seat next to Phum. “I’m not interrupting anything, am I?” Peem asks, already leaning away.  

“Never,” Phum counters, grabbing Peem’s wrist and glancing to the paper beside him.  

“Something important?”  

“Reminder for a medical checkup,” Phum answers, gathering up the paper and shoving it into his pocket. “So,” he continues, turning slightly so he’s now facing Peem, “What brings my handsome boyfriend by?” 

“I can’t just want to spend time with you?” 

“Cute,” Phum smiles. “But that’s not why you’re here. Or,” he continues, gesturing to the canvas Peem had set down by the door, “that’s not only why you’re here.” 

“Toey came by the studio,” Peem begins, “and it’s really hard to focus on painting when your best friend is loudly flirting with his boyfriend. There’s certain things I do not want to know.” 

“I’m not your best friend?” Phum questions, keeping his voice light. 

“Shut up,” Peem laughs, hitting Phum with a pillow. “That’s what you focus on?” 

“Your easel is still in the bedroom. Feel free to finish your assignment. I was getting ready to work on my project anyway.” 

“The case study?” 

“Mhm,” Phum agrees, setting aside his bear to stand. “I think I have the causes of contamination identified, but I’m still working on the most efficient solution.” He offers his hand to Peem, helping him rise off the sofa.  

“You were getting ready to work on your project, “ Peem repeats, skeptical even as he keeps hold of Phum’s hand to lead him toward the bedroom. “From the sofa, without your notes or computer.” 

“Getting ready,” Phum reiterates as Peem detours to grab his canvas with his free hand. “I was getting ready to work.” 

“Sure you were, Puppy Phum.” Peem teases. “But I won’t say no to spending more time with you while I paint.” 

Phum smiles and pauses to pull Peem back towards him, ignoring Peem’s fake frown of irritation. “I’m glad you’re here, even if it’s only to escape Q and Toey.” 

“Hm,” Peem hums in reply, staring at Phum. “Maybe not only to avoid them.” 

Phum smiles and holds Peem’s gaze before slowly leaning forward, only to be stopped by Peem’s finger on his lips. 

“We have work to do, remember?” 

“I don’t get a kiss for sharing my workspace?” 

“I thought everything of yours was mine, too?” Peem counters, “And besides, it’s never just a kiss with you.” 

Phum laughs and steps back, “Later, then.”  

“Come on,” Peem smiles and leads Phum into the bedroom before releasing his hand. “Get to work,” Peem nods toward Phum’s desk. 

Phum raises his hands in mock surrender and steps away, pulling out his textbooks and waking up his laptop.  

He lets himself get lost in the work, figuring out contaminates and the best counters to protect the environment, and in turn, the people who live there – the gentle sound of Peem’s brush on canvas a soothing backdrop as the light shifts through the windows, lengthening the shadows until Phum is forced to turn on the overhead lights.  
 
“Why the environmental engineering concentration?” Peem questions, breaking the silence. “Your parents’ suggestion?” 

“Want to know more about me?” Phum teases before sighing, keeping his eyes on his laptop as he gathers his thoughts. “It wasn’t my parents. They...don’t seem to care what I do, in school or out. But I suppose I wanted to help people. Contaminates from faulty transports or pollutants from businesses do more than damage the environment. They can hurt residents or the workers in a building. People....people can get sick, and while not all illnesses are preventable, some are.” 

Silence blankets the room, and Phum forces himself to return his focus to the case study, to calculations and methods for first isolating and then reclaiming the contaminated area. 

He jumps when a hand lands on his shoulder, and he looks up to see Peem smiling softly,  

“You’re nothing like I thought.” Peem reaches up and pushes aside Phum’s hair. “You ruined my painting and didn’t even apologize –” 

“Would it help if I said I was having a bad day?” 

Peem shakes his head. “You ruined my painting,” Peem repeats, “but you’re studying environmental engineering .” 

“Yes?” Phum questions, still confused. 

“You want to protect and clean the environment,” Peem states, leaning closer and lowering his voice. “You want to help people – help prevent people from getting sick due to selfish, uncaring businessmen. You, Khaophan, are a good man, and I have never been more glad to have my first impression proven wrong.” 

“What was your first impression?” Phum asks, proud when his voice cracks only once. 

“That you were a pompous, self-centered, handsome asshole.” 

“And now?” 

“Fishing for complements?” Peem smiles even as he shakes his head. “I already told you,” Peem wraps his arms about Phum’s waist, and the paper rustles in Phum’s pocket, “You’re a good man, and I love you.” 

“I love you, too.” Phum says, an automatic response before he leans in for a kiss. 

Later, dressed in pajamas and with Peem wrapped around him, Phum watches as Peem scrolled through the delivery app, considering what to order for dinner. 

“You really have no preference?” Peem asks. 

“No.” 

“What about,” Peem pauses, “What was your favorite meal as a kid?”  

Phum freezes. 

“Oh I don’t - I don’t remember.” Phum forces a half-hearted laugh, “Not sure I even had one.” 

A preemptively teasing grin grows on Peem’s face. “It can’t be that embarrassing. Did little Phum just want to eat dessert? Tell me.” 

Phum sighs and focuses on his blank television. “I didn’t have a favorite meal.” Phum gives a small shrug. “It wasn’t like your family meals...food was just provided. It’s not like I went hungry or anything; I just didn’t choose what to eat.” He really didn’t. Meals were chosen by doctors, or distant relatives. 

Silence. 

“You were gone for over ten years,” Peem begins, “and you never got to experience a favorite meal with people you cared about.” Peem sighs, his hold tightening around Phum, “I really don’t know the whole story, do I?” 

“I’m sorry,” Phum starts, “I can tell you –” 

“No,” Peem interjects. “Not like this. Tell me when you want to – not because we’re trying to choose what to eat for dinner.” 

Finally, Phum shifts, turning so he faces Peem. “I love you.” He leans forward to press a kiss to Peem’s forehead. “And I will tell you, but for now, how about Pad See Ew? It’s my favorite now, after your cake, of course.” 

“I’m too tired to bake a cake,” Peem replies, “but I can order one along with the Pad See Ew.” 

Peem proceeds to place the order and Phum plucks the phone from his hand once he’s done. “I wonder,” Phum starts, smiling as he leans into Peem, “how we should pass the time. Any suggestions, Cat?” 

Peem offers a sweet smile even as he blocks Phum’s kiss with his index finger. “I didn’t finish my painting earlier, and I doubt you completed your case study.” 

“Things have changed,” Phum jokes as he shakes his head. “Now you’re the task master.” 

“Yes I am,” Peem agrees even as he pulls Phum to stand beside him. “Get to work so you’re not stressing later.” 

“So you were serious,” Phum comments as he heads back to the bedroom. “You’re not procrastinating?” 

“You’ve been talking to Q,” Peem says in answer. “Now, I believe you have research?” 

“Task master,” Phum repeats even as he opens his laptop. 

“I’m working too,” Peem says from across the room. “I’m not making you work while I do nothing – unlike some people.” 

He’s teasing. Phum knows Peem is teasing, can even picture the smile on his face based on his tone. 

And yet. 

“...Was it really that bad?” Phum refuses to turn around, keeps his eyes focused on the best precautions the manufacturer should have in place to prevent potential contamination of the surrounding area. He has to account for dangers to both the environment and the people, and the chemicals outlined in the case study are extremely hazardous. He’ll get deductions if he fails to account for – 

“Only when you abandoned me at the mall,” Peem answers, unconcerned.  

“I really didn’t think you’d wait,” Phum mutters, quietly, going back to his reading. 

By the time Phum’s phone beeps with the notification that their delivery driver has arrived with their dinner, Phum has a workable draft for the answers to his case study.  

He turns to tell Peem about the food and finds his boyfriend already staring at him, his gaze contemplative and steady. It’s obvious he’s been staring for some time, and Phum is struck still for a moment because he knows that expression. It’s the look Peem wears when he’s trying to figure out how to complete one of his paintings, when he has the beginnings of an idea, but hasn’t yet put it all together.  

Curious, that Peem has that look now, directed at Phum. For a brief moment, Phum considers asking his boyfriend what he was trying to figure out, but without already knowing the answer, Phum decides he doesn’t want to know.  

“Distracted by the handsome boyfriend?” Phum teases, even as he reaches for Peem’s hand. “You finished painting so you decided to stare at me instead?” 

“What if I did?” Peem questions, losing his thoughtful mood in an instant. “Are you complaining?” 

Phum smiles at the joking tone, shaking his head. “Complain that my handsome features distracted my boyfriend? Never. But our food is here,” he continues, walking them both toward the door. “And I’d hate for my boyfriend to starve to death because he was staring at me instead of eating.” 

Five minutes later they’re settled on the sofa, and Phum sorts the food and drinks while Peem chooses something on the TV. 

Phum has just found the second pair of chopsticks when Peem turns on the sofa, bending his left leg so he’s fully facing Phum. “Of course I waited.” 

“What?” 

“Earlier, when you were working.” Peem waves toward the bedroom. “You said you didn’t think I’d wait for you, at the mall.” 

Swallowing, Phum hands Peem his food and chopsticks. “What?” 

“Earlier,” Peem repeats, trying to catch Phum’s eye, “You asked me if our deal was bad, and then you said you didn’t think I’d wait for you.” 

“Yeah,” Phum agrees, focusing on his food.  

“Phum,” Peem pauses, and only continues once Phum has met his gaze. “Why did you think I wouldn’t wait?” 

Phum looks away, and allows himself to take two bites of food before he answers. “It was just meant to be a prank,” Phum says, fiddling with his chopsticks. 

“I’d figured that out already, thanks.” Peem states, a slight bite in his tone. “But that doesn’t answer my question: Why did you think I wouldn’t wait for you?” 

“Why does it matter?” Phum eventually asks. “I acted like an asshole, and I’m sorry I left you there.” 

“You did,” Peem agrees, “And you’ve apologized for it. Several times.” Peem gives a small smile before reaching for Phum’s hand, “But even though you acted like an asshole, you also thought I wouldn’t stay. It was worse because I did,” Peem briefly tightens his hold on Phum’s hand. “I waited until the mall closed, but you thought I’d left hours earlier. Why? Why did you think I wouldn’t stay when you’d specifically asked me to?” 

Phum runs his free hand through his hair and looks out the window, unable to look at his boyfriend. He doesn’t want to see the change in his expression, doesn’t want to witness when Peem’s look goes from inquisitive to sorrowful, or worse, pity. 

“Because no one has before,” Phum forces himself to continue, voice flat. “People don’t wait, Peem, certainly not for hours. They leave because there’s something better to do, or someone else to see.” Phum shrugs and chances a glance at Peem, whose face has gone blank. Phum returns to looking out the window. “I honestly thought you’d have gone home, and you’d yell at me the next day.” 

“I did yell at you,” Peem finally says, squeezing Phum’s hand. “And then you apologized, which was completely unexpected. It went against your image.” 

“My image,” Phum repeated, looking back to his boyfriend. 

“You were pompous and self-centered, remember? But then you apologized, and got me a latte, so I had to re-evaluate.” 

“You forgot handsome,” Phum jokes, leaning closer.  

“That didn’t change,” Peem counters before his voice turns serious. “But Phum, of course I waited. I said I would, yeah?” 

Phum remembers his father, tall and imposing, telling Phum he was going abroad. Phum hadn’t fully understood at first, thinking it was to be a family holiday until his father had explained that Phum was going alone. He would be separated from his mother, from Oat, from Fang, but his father stressed that the time would pass quickly for Phum – he wouldn’t even miss them. 

Phum thinks of his parents, promising they’d call. He remembers sitting in cold rooms, waiting, even if he can’t pinpoint the day he realized his phone was never going to ring. He remembers being told the pain would be fleeting, just a pinch, and then finding out that the pinch could happen seven times in a row. 

For Peem to understand, to truly grasp Phum’s shock at Peem having kept his word, he would have to explain everything. 

Phum could share the whole story Peem has been wanting to hear. 

“Thank you,” Phum says instead, “for keeping your word.” 

Phum meets Peem’s eyes, but otherwise stays still.  

“I always will,” Peem softly replies. “But,” he continues, “if you ever abandon me again –” 

“I won’t,” Phum interrupts. “I promise.” 

Peem holds his gaze, and Phum feels the moment stretch as Peem measures his sincerity.  

“Good,” Peem eventually says. “But now,” Peem leans back and uses his free hand to point a chopstick at Phum’s rice, “eat your dinner before it gets cold.” 

“So bossy,” Phum teases, even as he releases Peem’s hand to reach again for his chopsticks.  

Next to him, Peem hums in agreement. “How terrible I am, making my boyfriend eat his dinner.” 

Phum nods even as he begins to eat, making Peem laugh when he struggles with a particularly slippery piece of broccoli. 

“So,” Peem starts once he’s stopped laughing, “you don’t have to answer, but I’m curious: What did you eat as a kid, even if it wasn’t your favorite?” 

Phum carefully eats another bite of his food before answering. “Leberknödel,” 

“I said you didn’t have to answer if you didn’t want to.” Peem glares and elbows Phum’s side. “No need to make up words.” 

“I didn’t,” Phum replies around his laughter. “Leberknödel are meat dumplings – they're very popular in Heidelberg.” 

“Heidelberg,” Peem repeats, slowly setting down his food and turning to fully face Phum, eyes pinched and frown firmly in place. “They sent you to Germany?!” 

Peem’s raised voice has Phum dropping his chopsticks in surprise. “Beer told you I was sent away –” 

“Yes,” Peem interrupts, harshly pushing his hair back in aggravation. “You were sent away when you were too young and you didn’t understand the language.” Peem grabs Phum’s hand, and Phum forces himself to stay still despite the strength of the grip. “They sent you to an entirely different continent.” 

“They did, but –” 

“Who does that?” Peem continues, seemingly to himself. “Who sends their child to an entirely different continent, to a country surrounded by people they couldn’t talk to?” 

Phum shifts slightly, and brings his other hand on top of Peem’s. "Peem –” 

“No,” Peem sighs and runs his free hand through his hair before softening his tone. “I’m sorry. I just don’t like thinking of you being alone.” 

“I’m not,” Phum replies, slowly gathering his thoughts. “I haven’t been for a while.” 

Peem still looks distressed, “But –” 

Phum briefly tightens his hold on Peem’s hand. “Please,” he starts, “you don’t have to worry. I have the cutest boyfriend in the world to keep me company now.” 

Peem freezes for a moment before he laughs and shakes his head. “You’re ridiculous.” 

Phum shrugs. “Let’s finish dinner, yeah?  We can relax and watch that series you mentioned.” 

For a moment Phum worries Peem will ignore the blatant change of subject, but then Peem smiles fondly, grabbing his food before leaning back against the cushion.  “Alright then. Let’s eat, Puppy Phum.” 

As they eat, Phum keeps glancing to Peem, incapable of actually focusing on the drama Peem had mentioned. Phum has to tell him – he has to tell him soon. Peem, who had accepted Phum’s limited explanation tonight, trusting Phum and not pushing him, deserves to know Phum’s story. 

Phum forcibly ignores the tiny part of him that thinks of how it maybe would have been easier to tell Peem if he had pushed. If Peem had demanded an explanation. 

Forcing the thought away, Phum takes another bite of his food, thinking about his and Peem’s schedules. He doesn’t want to tell Peem before his painting is due, doesn’t want to risk distracting Peem from his assignment. He also needs to choose a day when Peem is visiting him, so if Peem is upset there’s no eavesdropping aunties nearby. 

Phum slowly continues to eat, smiling when Peem occasionally meets his gaze even as he plans out the next few days. 

He will need to pull as much information as he can. He knows Peem. His boyfriend may be an artist by trade, but Peem is meticulous when it comes to things he cares about. He strives for perfection, and will want to know as many details as Phum can share. 

And Phum refuses to break his promise. He won’t keep things from Peem, so he’ll answer all his questions and share as much as he can.  

Still, Phum worries – what if Peem is too angry to listen? What if he stays for the explanation, but his love is fundamentally changed? He glances at Peem again before setting his partially eaten food on the table and leaning back, crossing his arms against his chest. This won’t break them, Phum won’t let it. But Peem will have questions, and Phum must be prepared to answer them. 

Phum startles when his bear hits his side before rolling against the cushion.  

“Come here,” Peem orders, gesturing to his lap. “Use your pillow and relax. Stop thinking so hard. Your project will still be here tomorrow.” 

Phum musters a smile and sets the bear aside, easily moves to lay his head in Peem’s lap, sighing when Peem’s hand begins to card through his hair. “Love you.” 

“Love you, too,” Peem replies. “Now hush. We’re watching a show, remember?” 

Smiling, Phum adjusts until he’s comfortable, pulling Peem’s free arm around him and holding his hand. 

Phum has no idea who the characters are on the screen, much less why they’re apparently hiding their relationship (he can always ask Peem later), but he resolves to watch it anyway. 

Peem asked him to, after all. 

Chapter Text

Chapter 2 (The Interlude) 

“They sent him to Germany!” Peem fumes as he drops his bag on the table in front of Beer, resting one foot on the bench. 

“Hello, Peem,” Beer says, setting down his pencil. “Something on your mind?” 

Peem glares and lowers his leg, moving to sit before leaning forward. “Tell me about Germany.” 

“It’s a country in Europe?”  

Peem huffs and glances away before looking back at Beer, taking in his raised eyebrows and slight smile. 

“Sorry.” Peem shakes his head and musters a flat apology.  “I just –” 

“Oh,” Beer interrupts, “I should have known. You have more questions about Phum.” 

“Yeah,” Peem agrees, voice soft but pointed. “A few.” 

“Alright then,” Beer replies, pushing aside his textbook and meeting Peem’s eyes. “Ask away.” 

“They sent Phum to Germany.” 

“They did,” Beer confirms, and Peem’s hands clench on his thighs, bunching the fabric of his pants before he releases his grip with a deliberate, forceful exhale. 

“Why did they send him to Germany? He was so young,” Peem comments, leaning forward. “Why would they send him so far away?” 

“He stayed with some distant cousins, I think,” Beer answers, voice flat.  

“That doesn’t answer my question,” Peem frowns. “Why did they send him away, Beer?” 

“I can’t tell you.” 

“You can’t tell me?” Peem’s hands move to rake through his hair and he lets out a huff of frustration. “You trusted me enough to tell me about a little boy who clung to dolls and must have been so scared, so alone, surrounded by people he couldn’t talk to. But now, you won’t tell me why? 

“And don’t say it was because of some issue with the family business.” Peem argues, pointing a finger at Phum before glancing away. “That just doesn’t make sense. Why only send away the youngest child? If the business was doing that poorly, why not send Fang with Phum?” Peem questions, turning back to Beer. “You’ve known them for years; you know more than you’re sharing.” 

Beer sighs. “I already told you –” 

“No,” Peem snaps, “you left out some details.” 

“I may have known Fang and Phum for years,” Beer eventually replies, “but I don’t know everything.” 

“You know more than most,” Peem counters. “And I’m not asking for everything. I just want to understand.” 

“You know Fang used to get into fights?” At Peem’s nod Beer continues, “Phum came back right after we started upper-secondary,” Beer says after a moment, finally meeting Peem’s eyes. “I was the only person he knew in our year. I introduced him to Mick, too, but not everyone was happy that a new student was upsetting the well-known class rankings.” 

“It didn’t bother me,” Mick comments, startling Peem, before returning to the game on his phone. Peem stares for a moment, having not registered the bent head further down the table as Phum’s friend before looking back at Beer.  

“He was one of the few,” Beer agrees as he fondly shakes his head. “And the others weren’t exactly quiet about their displeasure.” 

“Fang fought because of Phum,” Peem murmurs. “I’m sure that went over well.” 

Beer shrugs. “I did say he turned his back on the world. There’s a reason Phum spends most of his time at home, away from people.” 

“He was trying to keep Fang out of trouble.” 

“Yeah,” Beer agrees, “and avoid being a target. We would hang out, but it was mostly at the house. Fang would join us sometimes, but he also spent more time with their parents –” Beer stops abruptly, shaking his head before continuing. “Don’t judge him for it. Fang spending time with them helped there be fewer arguments in the house. When Phum first got back he didn’t speak with his parents at all.” 

Peem takes a moment to consider what he’s been told. He hasn’t spent that much time with Fang, at least not one-on-one, but he knows Fang cares for Phum. His boyfriend’s older brother is quiet, more often than not, but he’s caught glimpses of Fang’s personality here and there. Fang may be quick to suggest violence, but the closest Peem has seen to Fang following through is when he’s pummeled Phum with his countless dolls (Phum may have deserved it). 

Everything else he knows about Fang has been learned through observing his interactions with Tan.  

“I don’t actually know Fang that well,” Peem admits. 

Beer laughs, “He’s not the brother you spend time with, and any free time he has is spent with Tan.” 

Peem nods. “Was it different in high school?” 

“He wasn’t spending time all his time with Tan,” Beer jokes, and then raises his hands in a placating gesture at Peem’s glare. “He was protective of Phum,” Beer continues, “to the point that they had arguments about it. That’s around the time when he started to be more aggressive with his fights: Hit first, rather than talk.”  

“He started them?” 

Beer shrugs. “At least that way by the time Phum and I got there the physical fight was usually over.” 

Peem takes a moment to reconcile the image he had of Fang – the quiet, teasing older brother who brought Phum spaghetti – with that of someone who threw punches and started fights. 

“Okay,” Peem nods, “so Fang didn’t have it easy either. I’m sorry about that. But that still doesn’t answer my question.” 

“You did say you had a few.” 

“Why did they send him away for so long?” Peem questions, voice low. “Surely any business issues were handled before upper-secondary.” 

“I don’t know about their business,” Beer leans back slightly, looking away from Peem. “But I can tell you that I only ever heard them ask about his grades.” 

“Beer.” Peem keeps his tone flat, resisting the urge to snap at his boyfriend’s closest friend. “Why did they really send Phum away for so long?” 

When Beer stays silent Peem pushes back from the table. “I don’t know why you think you can’t talk to me now, but I hope you’ll change your mind.” Peem stands and heads for the canteen, refusing to look back as he goes.  

“Here,” Peem hands Beer an iced green tea latte a few minutes later. “I figured you could use it." 

“Thanks,” Beer takes the drink, tone cautious.  

Peem offers a slight shrug as he leans against the table, taking a sip of his own latte. “Why did you tell me?” At Beer’s raised eyebrow Peem sighs before continuing. “Six months ago,” Peem moves, stepping over the bench to sit across from Beer. “Phum and I weren’t even dating yet when you told me how he’d been sent away.” 

“I knew Phum liked you,” Beer comments after a moment. “And I thought you’d be good for him. But I also know Phum, and despite appearances to the contrary, he assumes he’s the last choice. He wanted you to like him, but he would never make the first move. I figured it couldn’t hurt to talk to you about the Phum I know. But honestly?” Beer takes a sip of his latte before continuing, “I thought you could make my friend happy.” 

“So what,” Peem questions, “now that I’m actually dating Phum you no longer think so?” 

“I know you make him happy,” Beer responds, and Peem is torn between relishing in the fact that Beer, Phum’s friend , knows Peem makes him happy, and snapping: Why, if he knows Peem can make Phum happy, is he not trusting Peem with information about his boyfriend? Beer begins talking again before Peem can decide on a response. “It’s not that I don’t trust you, Peem. I’ve never seen Phum as happy as he is with you.”  

“Then answer –” 

“Peem,” Beer interrupts, “listen to me. I can’t answer your question.” 

“You can –” Peem cuts himself off, carefully watching Beer. “You can’t answer my question,” Peem repeats. “You can’t,” he continues, picking through what Beer hasn’t said.  “Right,” Peem states, pulling on his bag and grabbing his drink, “I’ll see you later, yeah?” 

“Going somewhere?” Beer questions with a hint of amusement in his tone. 

“Architecture!” Peem answers, already turning from the table. 

He’s gone moments later, not glancing back to see Beer drop his head to table with a groan of frustration. 

“I thought you weren’t procrastinating anymore?” Q questions as Peem sighs yet again. 

“I wouldn’t be here if I was procrastinating,” Peem mutters with a look around the studio. “Besides, my concept was approved last week.” 

“And yet you’re not painting.” 

Peem throws a brush in the general direction of where Q is lying on the floor behind him.  “Neither are you.” 

“No, but I also didn’t come here to paint. I came here to nap until Toey is done with his class, but I can’t because of you. So. What the fuck is going on?” 

“Nothing.” 

Peem startles backwards when a paintbrush bounces off the canvas in front of him, narrowly missing his left shoulder as it rebounds. “Hey!” 

“You started it,” Q mutters from behind him. “Either start talking or go somewhere else.” 

“I would,” Peem answers as he turns around to face Q, “but according to Tan, Fang’s not out of class yet.” 

“Why are you waiting for your brother-in-law?” 

“He’s not –” Peem huffs out a breath and runs his right hand through his hair as he glares at his friend. “You’re an ass.” 

“And you’re avoiding the question.” Q hasn’t moved from his position on the floor, and Peem absently wishes he had even an ounce of Q’s indifference.  

“I just need to ask him something.”  

“Something you can’t ask your boyfriend, who you basically live with? Must be some question.” Q’s dry, mocking tone sets Peem’s already frayed nerves on edge.   

“How long until Toey’s done with class, again?”  

“Too long for you to get away with avoiding this conversation. Save yourself the trouble and just tell me what the fuck is going on with you and your rich engineer.”  

Peem shoots him a glare that Q doesn’t see given his closed eyes, and stays silent. 

“Sorry,” Q laughs, unrepentant. Taunting Peem a moment later, “Did I hit a nerve?”  

“Just so you know,” Peem starts, voice clipped, “your comments are not appreciated.”  

“I’ll survive,” Q answers. “Now talk.” 

Peem waits a moment before slowly getting off his stool and moving to sit on the floor next to where Q is still laying down. 

“I knew that Phum’s parents had sent him away when he was a kid, but I thought – well, it doesn’t matter. Turns out they sent him to fucking Germany.” 

“And finding out the country is a big deal?” 

For once Q doesn’t sound sarcastic, and the change in tone has Peem biting back his planned response.  

“I just don’t understand,” Peem eventually says. “Why would Phum’s parents send him to an entirely different continent? Beer mentioned before that it was due to some issue with their family business, but that doesn’t make sense. If it was an issue of finances, why only send Phum? Besides,” Peem adds, twisting the hem of his shirt in his hands, “they left Phum there for years.” 

“And this history has you upset.” Q has reverted to his dry, bland tone. 

“I told you,” Peem says around a sigh, “it just doesn’t make sense. And Beer won’t give me an explanation, so I have to ask Fang.” 

“Instead of your boyfriend.” 

“Phum is working on a big case study,” Peem crosses his legs and leans more fully against the wall. “And talking about his parents always upsets him.” 

“So you’d rather just upset me .” 

“You being unable to nap isn’t my fault.” 

“It is, actually,” Q retorts as he shifts, moving to sit up next to Peem. “Between your sighing and moodiness, it’s a wonder you haven’t disturbed the whole studio.” 

“Everyone else seems fine,” Peem gestures toward where a handful of other students are focused on canvases. “Pretty sure you’re just nosey.” 

Q shrugs. “So you have to talk to your brother-in-law and you’re annoyed that architecture’s class schedule is different from ours?” 

Peem sighs and avoids Q’s gaze. “A bit. I just need to talk to him. I need to understand what happened then so I can help Phum now . Besides,” Peem shrugs, “Fang owes me.” 

“Fang owes you,” Q repeats, voice flat. “How the hell does Fang owe you?” 

“Can’t tell you that,” Peem quips. “Just know that since he does, he’ll have to answer my questions.” 

A pause, and a glance to his left reveals Q looking back, suspicious. 

“What.” Peem doesn’t phrase it as a question. 

“I know you.” Q states. “And you’re already annoyed, and apparently Fang somehow owes you. You’re going to find him and start the interrogation before you even ask about his day.” 

Q smirks as he folds his arms to rest his head on his hands rather than the wall.  Peem runs a hand through his hair, refusing to acknowledge the accuracy of Q’s prediction. 

“So?” 

“So,” Q comments, tone dry, “I just think that maybe you shouldn’t accost your brother-in-law for information the minute he’s out of class. Plus, if their parents are as shitty as they sound, it’s not like he would have had a great time growing up either.” 

Peem freezes.  

Q is right. For all that Peem has been justifiably upset on his boyfriend’s behalf, he hadn’t considered what life would have been like for Fang. 

Fang, who is only a year older than them. 

Fang, who, at five years old, suddenly had his little brother sent away. 

“Toey told you something,” Peem eventually replies. “You wouldn’t be thinking of Fang’s feelings otherwise.” 

“Toey tells me lots of things.” Q smugly answers. “I hear that’s part of a healthy relationship.” 

“I hate you,” Peem sighs, “so much.” 

“That’s fine,” Q laughs, “your mom loves me.” 

“Q.” 

“Fine,” Q huffs, drawing out the word as he adjusts against the wall, “but it’s really not much, so don’t get mad at me when you’re disappointed.” 

“And to think,” Peem murmurs, “you were annoyed at me for avoiding a question.” 

“That’s different,” Q says with a smile. “I just can’t make it too easy for you, especially when you’re being nosy. You, one the other hand,” Q drops his arm around Peem’s shoulders, “were deliberately being secretive.” 

Peem shrugs off Q’s arm. “Just tell me, Q.” 

“You know,” Q begins as he leans back against the wall, “you’re not as fun as you used to be.” 

“Lies,” Peem counters. “I’m as fun as I’ve always been; you’ve just become a weirdo who’s obsessed with his younger boyfriend.” 

“Hey now. No need to bring Toey into this. Besides,” Q continues with a too-sweet smile, “do you really want to talk about who’s obsessed with their boyfriend? I thought you had questions about Fang.” 

For a moment, Peem considers letting himself fall into the familiar easy conversation with Q, but just as quickly his mind flashes back to Phum’s stilted conversation with his parents, and his forcibly casual mention of being sent to fucking Germany. 

“I do have questions about Fang,” Peem sighs. “So stop with the joking and just tell me.” 

Q lets out a dramatic sigh and closes his eyes.  

“From what little Toey has said about high school, almost any time he went to Fang and Phum’s house, their parents were absent. But,” Q continues, “he also said that the few times the parents were there, Fang was always doing his best to appease them to make sure your boyfriend didn’t get in another argument with them.” 

“He still does that,” Peem murmurs. “And I’m grateful, but I’ve also never seen him stand up to them. Or even agree with any of Phum’s comments.” 

“I can’t imagine it was easy. It’s not like he’s that much older than us,” Q states, as Peem turns to stare. “His little brother was sent away, and he was left alone with only his parents, who I’m guessing also weren’t around that much. It’s easy to do what they ask when you only see them once a month, and that’s a hard habit to break. Plus, now he’s trying to keep them happy and has to watch you flirt with his brother.” 

“Glass houses,” Peem comments, offering a smile when Q just raises a certain finger in response. “But,” Peem adds, dropping his teasing tone. “I guess it would have been tough for Fang too, especially with him trying to keep the peace.” 

“Yeah,” Q agrees as he finally opens his eyes to look at Peem. “So maybe don’t bite his head off as soon as gets out of class?” 

“I wasn’t -” Peem stops midsentence, shaking his head. “Alright yeah. You maybe have a point.” Peem raises his right hand and moves his thumb and index finger so they’re about a centimeter apart. “A small one.”  

“Asshole,” Q lightly jostles Peem. “See if I help you with your boyfriend issues again.” 

“I’m not having boyfriend issues ,” Peem snarks back.  

“Brother-in-law issues then.” 

Peem reaches over and shoves at Q’s shoulder. “Not my brother-in-law, and you’re a dick.” 

Q shrugs, unconcerned. “I still saved your relationship with your boyfriend, since I stopped you from terrorizing his favorite brother.” 

“I wasn’t going to terrorize him,” Peem replies as Q rises from the floor.  

“Sure you weren’t,” Q comments, his tone light, as if appeasing a small child. “But Toey’s class is over, so as much fun as this has been, I’m out.” 

Peem shakes his head and tosses Q his bag. “Don’t forget your shit, and remember that Tan wanted to have dinner on Friday so don’t make that a date night.” 

“Toey and I don’t plan date nights,” Q answers. “We’re not an old married couple who needs to plan those things.” 

“I know for a fact that you make sure Toey is free for your coffee dates at Granny’s.” 

“That’s coffee, and we don’t plan to go at night. Like I said,” Q pauses on his way to the door to turn and look back at Peem, “we’re not the old married couple.” 

Q gives a mock salute and is gone before Peem can come up with a reply. 

Asshole . 

It had taken a not inconsiderable amount of effort to convince Tan to let Peem meet Fang in the Architecture building first. Upon seeing his friend near the entrance, Peem had been quick to catch Tan by the arm and request he wait so Peem could talk to Fang. 

He’d forgotten how persistent his friend could be. 

Honestly, he’s worse than Q is about Toey. 

Finally, after promising both snacks from Aunt Pui and to keep the conversation to twenty minutes at most, Tan had acquiesced. 

Still, knowing Tan, Peem resolved to keep the conversation short – he’d be lucky if he got ten minutes with Fang before Tan interrupted. 

“Fang!” Peem calls as soon as he sees him. “Got a minute? I wanted to talk to you about something.” 

Fang offers a sincere – if slightly confused – smile and nods, meeting Peem at the bottom of the stairs and following him over to an empty table. 

Sitting across from Fang, bags haphazardly strewn across the tabletop, Peem takes a moment to consider what comes next. 

He doesn’t want to ambush Fang (like he had Beer), and yet Q’s comments about Fang have Peem reconsidering how to start the conversation. 

“I talked to Beer earlier,” Peem finally settles on, pushing back his bangs. “I was hoping he could help me understand something.” 

“I’m guessing he couldn’t?”  

Peem shrugs and leans closer. “Hopefully you can instead.” 

“Well,” Fang offers a small smile. “I can certainly try. What are you trying to understand about my brother?” 

Peem startles, his arm completely missing the table and nearly busting his chin in the process. He manages to right himself after a moment, resting both arms on the table as Fang weakly attempts to hide his laughter behind his hand. 

“Just so you know,” Peem says in a forcibly calm voice, “you’re not funny.” 

“In my defense, I wasn’t trying to be.” 

Peem narrows his eyes before shaking his head. “It’s fine. Really. And you’re not wrong. I just –” Peem stops and rakes a hand through his hair before looking directly at Fang. “Why was Phum sent to Germany for so long?” 

“Our family business –” 

“No,” Peem interrupts. “No issue with your family business would make your parents only send one child to another continent. If things really were that bad, you would have been sent too.” 

“What exactly are you asking, Peem?” 

“It’s important to have a relationship, or part of one, with your parents." Peem starts, talking around the issue. “But I can’t help him with this because I don’t know what happened. He was so young when they sent him away. Why send their youngest child to Germany when he was barely five years old?” 

“They had their reasons.” Fang answers, looking at the table. 

“So tell me what they were,” Peem replies, a hint of a demand in his tone.  

“They didn’t plan for Phum to be gone that long. Not at first.” Fang says, finally looking up. “I kept asking when he was coming home and I don’t think they were lying when they said that it would only be a for a year or so.” Fang pauses, seemingly gathering his thoughts.  

“It wasn’t.” 

“No,” Fang agrees, “it wasn’t. I still remember the day he left. He was holding his doll – you've seen it at his apartment – and kept trying to hide behind Mae because Pa had told him not to cry.  Phum tried not to, I know he did, but he didn’t quite manage it. “ 

Peem can picture it. Tiny Phum, holding a bear almost as big as he is (Peem has seen pictures) clutching his bear and attempting to hide his tears behind his mother. Tiny Phum, being sent away from everything he’s known, getting on plane that would end up taking him to fucking Germany.  

And Peem still didn’t know why . 

“Fang –” 

“I remember that they really were busy with the company.” Fang continues, cutting off Peem’s response. “I helped with what I could, once I was old enough. But they didn’t have time for a lot of things, and with the time difference,” Fang shrugs. “Calls were missed.” 

Peem’s phone pings before he has a chance to reply to Fang’s comment. He takes the time to pull it from his bag to check his messages, taking a calming breath. He can’t snap at Phum’s brother.  

Phum 🐶💘📷 

Where are you? I’ll give you a lift. 💖 

Met up with your brother   

Meet you outside the canteen?  

Why are you meeting Fang?  

He interrupts us enough already  

Had free time.  

And a certain puppy was in class.  

😢 

Dinner? You can’t spend more time with my brother than me.  

I’ll even buy.  

You always buy 🙄 

Have to keep you interested 😉 

And fed.  

Feeding you is important.  

You’re ridiculous.  

See you soon 😘 

😍 

“Phum’s on his way,” Peem says as he slips his phone into his bag. “But Fang,” Peem looks up to make sure Fang is giving him his full attention. “You never did answer my question.” 

“I’m not sure what exactly it is you want to know,” Fang replies. “You already know that Phum was sent away, and that his relationship with our parents has been difficult since he came back.” 

“More than ten years later.” 

“That’s not a question,” Fang says, “so again: What do you want to know?” 

“Why was Phum the only one sent away? And why for over a decade?” 

“Our parents had their reasons,” Fang finally says. “Over time, though, I think they got used to just having me be at home, especially when Phum was gone for so long.” 

“Fang,” Peem begins, voice sharp, “just answer the question.” 

“Phum had to be sent away,” Fang murmurs, barely audible over the hum of strangers’ conversations in the canteen. “He had to go,” Fang continues, “and then it was just easier for Phum to stay away. He came back so he could study to take his O-NET and General Admission Tests and attend a Thai University. If you want to know more, you really should talk to Phum.” 

Peem narrows his eyes and rakes a hand through his hair.  

“Phum. Tiny, five-year-old, doll loving Phum had t o be sent to another continent. To a country where he couldn’t speak the language. ”  It’s not a question, but Peem still expects an answer. 

“He did,” Fang confirms. “But if you want to know more, talk to your boyfriend. I’m not avoiding your question, Peem, it’s just not my place to be the one to answer it.” 

“Babe!” Tan’s exuberant call pulls Fang’s focus away, and Peem stifles a sigh. A glance at his watch shows that he’d been overly generous with how long Tan would last before interrupting any conversation. 

It’s been seven minutes. 

Peem briefly drops his head and resists the urge to deck his friend. 

“Tan,” Fang says, “done with class?” 

“You know my schedule!” Tan exclaims, happily captivated as he drapes himself over Fang. Peem puts on his bag and moves to leave the table. 

Phum 🐶💘📷 

Almost here?

Tan’s literally hanging off your bother 😧

2 minutes.

Sorry. My group had questions about our project.

I’ll make it up to you 😚 

“Peem!” Tan says, a touch too loud. “How was your talk with Fang?” 

“Short,” Peem replies, looking up from his phone with a pointed glance at his friend. “Although I think it was wrapping up anyway.” 

“Oh,” Tan answers, briefly apologetic before returning to his usual besotted expression. “Well, I’m glad Fang could help!” 

“Yeah,” Peem says after a moment. “But you’re not getting any snacks from me.” 

“But you said –” 

“No,” Peem interrupts Tan. “You didn’t even give me ten minutes, and you interrupted us.” 

Tan slouches down, pouting, as Fang amusedly looks at his boyfriend. 

Peem takes that as his cue, grabbing his bag after making sure he has his phone. He does offer Fang a nod as he steps away, heading for the counter. He has time, so he may as well get drinks for himself and Phum; plus it’s an excuse to leave before Tan stops pouting and goes back to cuddling with Fang.  

Outside moments later, drinks in hand, he smiles as Phum walks up. 

“Couldn’t wait to see me?” Phum nods toward the drink. “And with a drink? I thought I owed you.” 

“I needed an excuse to get away from Tan and your brother,” Peem comments. “And,” he continues with a forcibly flat tone, “they messed up my order.” 

“They messed up your order,” Phum repeats, “with my drink?” He grins. “Are you sure you didn’t just happen to order a drink for your boyfriend?” 

“Shut up,” Peem replies, handing Phum one of the cups. “You mentioned dinner?”  

“Yeah,” Phum agrees with a smile. “Anywhere you want.” 

Peem reaches for Phum’s hand. “Let’s go.” 

Chapter Text

Chapter 3 (The Crux)  

Phum tightens his hold on his bear and leans back on his sofa, ignoring the drama playing on his tv. His computer sits abandoned on the table, his need for a break having superseded his anxiety about his upcoming project.  

And yet, the moment he had put away his project, his thoughts had turned to Peem and the conversation he still wasn’t sure how to have. Fang’s pointed texts two days ago had let him know Peem hadn’t forgotten their conversation about Germany. His brother’s confirmation of Peem’s interest in his past had simultaneously filled him with affection and dread.  

He had his research and an idea of how to explain the situation.  

He just still didn’t know where to start .  

Beer 🍺🎂👑  

Just tell him  

He won’t be mad and then you can stop worrying  

And I won’t keep jumping whenever someone sits at my table  

A win for everyone  

You make it sound easy  

It is  

He needs to know, and you want to tell him  

Easy  

It’s really not  

But I promise to tell him soon  

Stop procrastinating  

Tell him tonight  

??  

He’s already talked to me and Fang  

Next he’ll end up asking Mick  

Is that how you want him to find out?  

“You can’t be serious,” Phum said once Beer answered his phone. “You can’t expect me to just tell him today.”  

“Why not?” Beer questioned. “It’s not like it’s some state secret.”  

“I told you,” Phum stresses as he turns off his television, “that it’s not that easy.”  

“Please,” Beer starts, “for once just stop overthinking it and talk to your boyfriend.”  

Phum tightens his grip on his bear. “Any insights on how to start that conversation?”  

“I can’t actually have the conversation for you, you know.”  

“Sure,” Phum agrees, “but I can’t fuck this up. Remember the last time I was supposed to just talk to my boyfriend?”  

“Vividly.”  

“So,” Phum comments, adjusting his grip on his phone, “how do I do this, Beer?”  

Silence.  

“Oh,” Phum says as realization hits. “You don’t know either, do you.”  

“Well,” Beer responds after a moment, “It’s not exactly a situation I’ve been in.”  

“As far as I’m aware, you didn’t blackmail the person you wanted to date into spending time with you either, but you still had an idea of what I should say.”  

“That was common sense.”  

“Hey!” Phum laughs, indignant, “I have common sense!”  

“You have good genetics and a very aesthete and forgiving boyfriend.”  

“Did you just imply that Peem is with me because of my looks?”  

“No,” Beer answers. “It wasn’t implied. He’s admitted that he thinks you’re the prettiest.”  

The reminder threatens to derail Phum’s train of thought, but he manages to refocus after only briefly remembering part of that memory.  

“I’m going to tell him to you said that.”  

“That’s fine,” Beer agrees, and Phum reflexively tightens his hold on his bear at his friend’s casual tone. “You can add it to what you’ll tell him when he gets to your condo. Or his place,” he continues after a moment, “wherever you end up.”  

“You seriously expect me to tell him tonight,” Phum murmurs.  

“Oh my –” Beer starts, voice harsh with exasperation before he stops abruptly. Phum counts the even, measured breaths (four in total) before Beer starts again. “Yes, Phum. Tell him tonight before he remembers that Mick has also known you since high school.”  

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”  

“I promise you that I’m really, really not.”  

“I’m not sure if I believe you.”  

“Phum,” Beer’s voice has taken on a tone Phum can’t place, but he’s certain he’s not going to appreciate whatever Beer says next. “It’s Friday night. Your boyfriend might be busy at the moment so you’re lamenting your current circumstances, but this wasn’t exactly how I planned to spend my evening.”  

Phum takes a moment, considering his possible responses. “You say that,” he finally settles on, “but you still answered the phone. And you haven’t hung up on me.”  

“What can I say,” Beer replies, “apparently I’m unable to say ‘no’ to a friend in need. It just so happens that my dumbass friends need help all the time .”  

“Hey!”  

“Phum,” Beer’s voice has gone flat again, “You too self-aware to pretend to be offended. And,” he continues, “as enlightening as this conversation has been, I really did have other plans and I’d like to get back to them. So talk to your boyfriend. And don’t fuck it up. That’s it. That’s my advice.”  

“But what if –”  

“No,” Beer interrupts. “No more what ifs. Look, you won’t fuck it up. I know you’ve researched what you can, and you care too much for Peem to mess up the rest. So,” Beer says in a firm tone, “answer Peem’s questions and just talk to him.”  

Phum closes his eyes and leans back into the sofa cushions. “You’re sure I can do this?”  

“Talk to your boyfriend? Yeah. I’m pretty sure you can do that.”  

“Beer,” Phum sighs, finally sharing the secret he’s held for weeks. “I’m scared.”  

“I know,” Beer murmurs. “I won’t tell you not to be. But I know you and I think I know Peem pretty well too. He won’t be mad; you know he won’t. So what are you scared of?”  

“I don’t want things to change.”  

“Well that’s dumb.” Beer responds, and Phum nearly drops his phone (he does drop his bear).  

“What?”  

“Things always change, Phum.”  

“Thanks for the reminder.”  

Beer sighs. “Just talk to him, okay? I know in the past, changes were generally shitty for you, but do you really think telling Peem something he genuinely wants to know is going to end badly?”  

“It could,” Phum mutters halfheartedly after a moment.  

“Bye, Phum. Tell me how it went tomorrow, yeah?”  

Beer has hung up before Phum can respond, and he stares at his phone for a moment before tossing it beside him on the sofa. He sighs before reaching for his computer, deciding to pull up his research.  

He needs to be as prepared as possible for when he talks to Peem.  

Beside him on the sofa, Phum’s phone buzzes.    

Phum sets his bear aside and stretches before running a hand through his hair. He’d finally admitted he was as prepared as he could be for his conversation with Peem, and had turned on the drama from earlier in hopes of distracting himself.  

He’d overestimated himself.  

His phone buzzes again, and he reaches for it without bothering to pause the show.   

Peem 💘🎨😽🖌️  

Save me from Q and Toey  

I think I preferred it when Q would lay on the floor 💤  

Doesn’t Q still lay on floors?  

You know what I mean  

Are they being insufferable?  

You have no idea  

You have a key 🔑  

When his phone doesn’t immediately buzz with a reply, Phum sets it back beside him on the sofa with a sigh. He looks at the drama still playing on his television, but the main characters are speaking to someone he doesn’t recognize.  Phum sighs, already looking around him for the remote, knowing that he’ll have to restart the episode to have any hope of knowing the plot.  

Phum smiles when he finally spies the remote, half hidden under a pile of his notes. He hits pause on the tv before turning it off, too anxious to try to become engrossed in someone else’s drama. He reaches for his discarded notes, deciding he might as well get some work done.  

Twenty minutes later, after he’s reviewed his notes and added information to his outline, his phone buzzes beside him.  

Peem 💘🎨😽🖌️  

I have a canvas due next week  

I at least have to the get the background done in the studio  

How long will that take?  

Want me to bring you food?  

I’ll come to your apartment when I’m done  

And don’t come pick me up  

You have your project and are nowhere near campus  

I don’t mind the drive  

I know  

But you have work to do  

I’ll see you soon 😘  

Setting aside his phone and taking his computer, Phum focuses on the case study, reviewing what he had added earlier. He notices several small errors, typos and extra spaces, before he finds the comment he had left for himself; he has ideas for where to take the information he’s found, but he still needs to find the specific articles to make sure the data connects.  

He pulls up one article, by far the most tedious to read (and therefore the most likely to distract him) and begins looking for the necessary quotes. Almost an hour passes as he slowly makes his way through the article, and he leans back, stretching his arms when he finishes the last page.  

After a glance at his still silent phone, Phum sighs before opening one of his new research articles. He has read the article once, and is working on his annotations during his second read through when he hears the door open.  

“Still working?” Peem questions as he closes the door and moves to take off his shoes.   

“I can take a break,” Phum answers, moving his work to the coffee table and walking to stand next to Peem. “Hi.”  

“Hello,” Peem replies with a smile. “Having a good evening?”  

“Well it’s certainly better now,” Phum murmurs as he leans in for a kiss. “What did you want to eat? We can order something.”  

“I didn’t say I was hungry,” Peem answers, idly fiddling with hem of Phum’s shirt.   

“You’ve been at the studio,” Phum replies, “so I know you haven’t eaten, yet.”   

“Fine,” Peem says even as he ducks his head. “Noodles? I’m not in the mood for rice.”  

Phum smiles as he leads them back to the sofa, pulling up the delivery app and selecting their favorite restaurant before handing his phone to Peem.   

“How’s your project?” Peem questions, tilting his head toward Phum’s abandoned computer as he deftly makes selections on Phum’s phone.  

“As irritating as it was yesterday,” Phum sighs. “But closer to being done.”  

“Good,” Peem murmurs, “I don’t like how stressful this is for you.”  

“Worried about me?” Phum teases.  

“Yes,” Peem states, surprising Phum with his matter-of-fact tone.   

When the silence stretches, Phum leans over to rest his head on Peem’s shoulder. “I’ll be okay,” he comments. “It’s just the time of year. Our professors give us hard projects and we power through – I have each year. You can even check with Fang.”  

“That’s not the reassurance you think it is,” Peem mutters even as he kisses Phum’s cheek.  “Here,” he adds, dropping Phum’s phone on the sofa, “food should be here in twenty minutes.”  

Phum hums in acknowledgement before leaning back and turning to fully face his boyfriend. “I was kidding,” he starts after a moment. “You really don’t have to worry - it’s just a project. But,” he rushes to add, “it means a lot, that you do.”  

“Of course I do!” Peem snaps, even as he reaches for Phum’s hands. “You’re stressed and you’ve been staying up even later than usual.”   

Phum looks away, resisting the urge to wince. He has been staying up late, but not only because of his case study. It just worked out that it was easier to look up what he needed for his conversation with Peem when he was already on his computer.  

He knew Peem noticed. He even knew Peem was concerned; he just had underestimated how upset it was making his boyfriend.  

Not his best moment.  

“I –“  

Peem tightens his grip on Phum’s hands, interrupting. “Of course I worry.”  

Phum glances away and hopes Peem doesn’t see his guilt.   

“I’m sorry.” Phum manages to breathe out the apology, looking back to Peem. “I didn’t mean to –”  

“No,” Peem interrupts again. “You don’t get to apologize for me worrying about you.” He says firmly, “Especially when that’s part of what it means to be in a relationship. You worry when I lose my inspiration, I worry when you have a difficult project.”  

“I know.” Phum sighs and carefully withdraws his hands from Peem’s. “I know,” he repeats, “but that’s not all you’ve been worried about, is it?”  

“No, but that’s not your fault, Phum.”  

Phum lets out a breathless, slightly hysterical laugh and pushes himself up from the sofa, grabbing his bear as he goes. “This really is, though. I didn’t mean to – I really didn’t want you to worry, so I’ve been trying to figure out how best to tell you.” Phum squeezes his bear against his chest. “But now I’ve gone and messed it up.”   

Gentle hands pull Phum’s bear free before its tossed to the sofa. “You haven’t messed anything up,” Peem says, standing as he wraps his arms around Phum’s waist.  

“You’re too nice,” Phum murmurs into Peem’s shoulder.   

“I’m really not,” Peem laughs, “or have you forgotten the day we met?”  

“That was an outlier.”  

“Sure,” Peem murmurs. “I guess we can call it that. Now,” Peem continues, his arms tightening around Phum’s waist, “do you want to tell me what you think you’ve ‘gone and messed up’?”  

Phum froze.  

“I -”  

“You don’t have to,” Peem hastily reassures. “I didn’t mean to pressure you.”  

“You didn’t,” Phum replies. “And I will tell you – I want to.  Just,” Phum raises his head from Peem’s shoulder, “can we talk after dinner?”  

“Okay,” Peem answers, as easily as if Phum asked to borrow a pencil and Phum resists the urge to sigh in relief. He knows Peem will be upset (hopefully not so much that he can’t stand to stay), and he should eat before that happens.  

Phum smiles. “Thank you. But, I don’t think I can focus on my project now.”  

“No,” Peem agrees. He pauses, considering. “We could watch something? Not a full episode, but part of one, at least.”  

“Sounds good,” Phum agrees, ignoring the small voice in his head calling him a liar. Maybe with Peem here he will actually be able to focus on a show. “Something happy?”  

Peem narrows his eyes. “When have I ever suggested we watch something not happy, Phum?”  

“You haven’t,” Phum states with a slight shrug. “But I thought I’d mention it just in case you wanted something different tonight.”  

“You’re impossible,” Peem mutters as he shakes his head. “Like I’d have us start a new, not-happy show when we have less than twenty minutes and are already partway through three different series. C’mon,” he teases as he pulls Phum back down to the sofa, “we should start it so we don’t have to pause ten minutes in.”  

After eating dinner and cleaning up, Phum slowly walks back to sofa with a sigh, forcibly stilling his hands as he goes. Peem offers a smile as Phum approaches, even as a crease forms between his eyebrows as he takes in Phum’s expression.  

“Breathe,” Peem murmurs as Phum joins him on the sofa, “Whatever it is, it’s going to be okay.”  

“Yeah,” Phum agrees, even as he looks over to his computer. “I know -” Phum pauses, starts again. “I know you talked to Beer last week. And Fang.”  

Peem ducks his head and Phum reaches out, resting his left hand on Peem’s shoulder and using his right to carefully make Peem look at him.  

“I’m not mad,” Phum says, “honestly I’m actually flattered that you took the time to go all over campus.”  

Peem’s gaze turns contemplative. “You’re too confident to really believe that I don’t want to know more about you.”  

“Sure,” Phum smiles. “But you still took time out of your day to talk to them, and I know how busy you are with your projects.” Phum shrugs, dropping his hands. “You had other things you could have done.”  

“Maybe,” Peem agrees, “but I chose to talk to them.”  

“You really do like me,” Phum teases, and Peem kindly ignores the tension in his voice.  

“But I don’t understand.” Peem questions, “If you’re not upset, what are you worried about?”  

Phum takes in a controlled breath and briefly closes his eyes before reaching for his computer, resting it on his lap.  

“Last week, after I told you about eating Leberknödel, you asked how my parents could have sent me away. I should have told you then. Or before then, really. I didn’t mean to not tell you. I’m just used to not talking about it. Not that I –”  

“Slow down, Puppy Phum,” Peem interrupts Phum’s hurried words, softly chastising even as he rests a hand on Phum’s knee. “I’m not going anywhere.”  

Phum ignores the voice in his head that adds a ‘yet’ to Peem’s sentence.  

“I really didn't mean to hide it,” Phum repeats, needing Peem to believe him.  He looks up and hopes Peem can see the sincerity behind his desperation. “I just didn’t know how to tell you so you wouldn’t worry too much.”  

“Phum.”  

“I told you how I got my name,” Phum begins, navigating to the correct tab on his computer’s browser. “And I did have allergies, but I kept getting sick. I got fevers, too, and eventually I was diagnosed with Acute Lymphoblastic Leukemia.”  

Phum turns his computer toward Peem, open to the site he’d found with the most comprehensive (yet accessible) information about his childhood condition. It had taken hours, and he’d even made a spreadsheet to evaluate the different sites he’d found to decide on the best ones to use. The site on display is one of three that made the cut.  

“This site has the best information,” Phum says as he looks to Peem, “I have others, too, but this one should cover the basics.”  

Peem doesn’t move, stays silent in the wake of Phum’s confession.  

“Peem?”   

Phum panics as Peem continues to ignore him, even as his gaze stays fixed on Phum.   

Shit .   

Beer was wrong. Phum could continue to fuck it up even when all he had to do was talk to his boyfriend. He should have started with the data, or brought it up while describing what it was like in Heidelberg. He should –   

Phum grunts when Peem suddenly launches himself forward, wrapping his arms around Phum and burying his face in Phum’s shoulder. Phum catches him instinctively, even as his computer gets trapped between them, the top corner digging into his stomach.  

Peem’s hold doesn’t loosen, and Phum slowly runs his hands up and down Peem’s back in an attempt to soothe.  

And then Phum feels tears against his shoulder.  

Fuck . Phum had fucked this up so badly he made Peem cry. He’d promised himself (and Peem, albeit silently) that he wouldn’t make Peem cry again. It was bad enough when he’d fucked up the first time, attempting to spare Peem the brunt of his negativity on his boyfriend’s big day Instead, he’d managed to not only make Peem worry, he’d brought Peem to tears.  

And now he’d done it again.  

“I’m sorry,” Phum says helplessly. “I didn’t -”  

“Don’t you dare apologize,” Peem starts, voice tight despite his tears. “You don’t get to apologize after you tell me you were diagnosed with fucking cancer.”  

“Okay,” Phum manages after a moment, taken aback by the force of Peem’s tone. He wants to add more, but words fail him. He doesn’t want to make this worse, but he doesn’t know what to say.  

Peem takes the choice away moments later, leaning back enough to look Phum in the eyes. “You were diagnosed with cancer as a kid.”  

“Yes,” Phum confirms, “when I was four.”  

“They sent you away when you had cancer .”  

“They did. Heidelberg University Hospital is one of the best for treatment.”  

“They sent you alone, Phum,” Peem hisses, tightening his hold on Phum’s waist. “You were a child – you were a sick child and they sent you to another continent.”  

“I did tell you I had a complicated relationship with my father,” Phum shrugs, attempting to lighten the mood.   

“This is where you show restraint,” Peem mutters as he narrows his eyes. “Of course.”  

“I -” Phum stops, taking a moment to slide his computer (and its sharp corners off his lap and onto the sofa. “I really am not used to talking about it. It’s not an excuse,” Phum adds as he wraps his arms around his boyfriend. “It’s just how it is.”  

“You’re not used to talking about it,” Peem repeats, pensive.  

Phum ducks his head, unable to keep Peem’s gaze. “When I came back to Thailand,” he begins, “everyone asked me how it was studying abroad. All the colleagues at the business dinners my parents dragged me to, the neighbors, even my father’s secretary.”  

Silence.  

When Phum dares to look back up, Peem’s mouth is set in a firm line, and at Phum’s back, Peem’s hands tighten their hold on Phum’s shirt.  

“They didn’t correct them.” It’s not a question, but Phum answers just the same.  

“No,” Phum says with a slightly bitter chuckle. “I guess even they knew it wouldn’t look good if it got out that they hadn’t come with me when I was being treated for A.L.L.”  

“A.L.L.?”  

“Sorry,” Phum mutters. “Acute Lymphoblastic Leukemia. A.L.L.“  

“Oh. That makes sense.”  

“It’s certainly easier to say,” Phum says with a touch of humor.  

“Yeah,” Peem agrees. “So you went to Heidelberg to get treatment for A.L.L.” Suddenly Peem jerks slightly in Phum’s hold, and Phum looks up in alarm. “Phum. You were in Germany for over a decade.”  

“Yes?”  

“Did the treatment –” Peem lets the sentence trail off, and Phum winces even as he prepares the answer the unfinished question.  

“Not the whole time. The first treatment lasted about two years, and then I had the second almost two years after that,” Phum looks away, “after my relapse.”  

“You had a relapse?” Peem questions, stricken. “Are you still sick?”  

“I’m fine!” Phum hastens to reassure his boyfriend. “I just had the one relapse when I was nine, almost ten.” Phum pauses for a moment, lost in his memories of being unable to eat his small, bland birthday cake. “I still have checkups now,” Phum states, shaking away the memory, “but I’m basically cured.” Phum raises his arms to cradle Peem’s head, brushing his thumbs across Peem’s cheekbones. “I’m okay.”  

“You better be,” Peem murmurs before he leans in for a quick kiss. “You still have checkups?”  

“They’re just a precaution,” Phum reassures. "I even have the notes from my last appointment, if you want to read them.”  

“Hm,” Peem hums in agreement. “When’s your next appointment?”  

“I haven’t scheduled it yet,” Phum admits, thinking of the crumpled paper he’d retrieved from the laundry basket last week. “Why?”  

Peem gives him a look that’s equal parts exasperated and fond. “Because I’m going with you.”  

“Oh,” Phum exhales his arms falling to his side in his surprise. “You really don’t have to. It’s just some tests.”  

“I don’t care,” Peem replies, his calm tone at odds with his tense expression. “I’m going with you,” he continues, tapping Phum’s shoulder to emphasize his point. “I’ll be going with you to every appointment in the future.”  

“Peem,” Phum begins, hopelessly in love and so, so fond of this man. “I promise it’s nothing major. You really don’t have to waste your time –”  

“I’m not ‘wasting my time,’” Peem interrupts, “going to your appointments with you. It’s my right as your boyfriend. Just because you had to deal with this alone as a child doesn’t mean that you still have to, now. Besides,” Peem continues, tone shifting from indignant to soft and honest, “I need to know you’re really okay.”  

Peem’s words leave Phum momentarily speechless.  

Phum was an idiot.  

Of course Peem would want to come with him. Of course he’d need the confirmation, the official word of the doctor to truly accept that Phum was fine. For all that he’d spent hours researching the best, most informative websites on his disease, he’d neglected to even think of the practicalities for after .  

After he managed to finally tell Peem the answer he’d been seeking.  

After Peem knew the last secret Phum held.  

After Peem knew that Phum was part of a statistic.  

“Okay,” Phum agrees with a nod. “But I wasn’t always alone, before. My relatives took turns, when they could get away from work. That’s actually how I got my name.” Phum adds as he offers Peem a smile, “My cousin had called me ‘Phum’ a few times before I lived with them, but one of my first treatments left me really sick.” Phum pauses, remembering painful needles and how even the thought of food had left him throwing up bile. “He called me ‘Phum’ the whole time; he said it would make the treatment work faster and I’d have fewer side effects because I had to live up to my name.”  

“It suits you,” Peem murmurs. “You’re the strongest person I know.”  

Phum ducks his head, although he knows Peem saw his blush. “You’re biased.”  

“So what if I am?” Peem questions, voice firm despite his casual words. “That doesn’t make it any less true, and you,” Peem continues with a tap to Phum’s head, “don’t get to argue with me.”  

“Alright,” Phum agrees with a slight shrug: Phum wouldn’t argue with Peem anyway, not after tonight’s conversation.  

“Now,” Peem leans back enough to tilt his head towards Phum’s abandoned computer. “What did you want to show me?”  

“Oh,” Phum had forgotten about the device, despite his frantic need to have every piece of information about A.L.L. meticulously organized before Peem had arrived. “I figured you’d want more information about everything, so I have a folder with the bookmarks of the best sites that explain Childhood A.L.L. I copied the reports of my status, too.”  

“Of course you did,” Peem replies, voice soft and fond. “Show me?”  

Phum nods, reaching for his laptop and turning so he’s sitting fully beside Peem, rather than facing him. Once his computer is open, carefully balanced on his and Peem’s laps, he wraps his left arm around his boyfriend, needing to feel more than the slight weight and heat along his side.  

“This one,” Phum starts, showing Peem the open tab, “has the best general information. This one,” he continues, moving to another tab, “has information about my relapse. I have others that are more detailed, but these are the best I found that discuss it without needing to look up medical terms.”  

“Okay,” Peem murmurs, “okay. Can you send them to me so I can read them when I’m not here, too?”  

“Already have the email drafted,” Phum says with a soft smile.   

Peem offers a smile in return as he reaches for the computer. “Anything else I should know before I read this?”  

“I love you,” Phum replies, “and I really am fine, now. Promise.”  

“I believe you,” Peem answers, “but I’m going to read now.”  

Phum nods and goes to move his arm, ready to give Peem space as he reads.  

“No,” Peem sharply says, leaning more into Phum. “Stay. Please?”  

"Of course,” Phum replies, already settling back into the sofa. “Anything you want.”  

He means it.  

Toey might have everyone wrapped around his finger, buying him food and treats and whatever else he sees while they’re out, but Phum is determined to make sure Peem never wants for anything.  

Food.  

Green tea.  

Art supplies.  

Whatever Peem wants, Phum will get it for him. It’s not like he can say no to him anyway.  

Phum slightly shakes his head and reaches for his notebook. He might not be as productive as he was earlier, but he can at least try.  

A cushion away, Phum’s phone buzzes. Phum sighs and sets his notebook in his lap, reaching for his phone.  

Beer 🍺🎂👑  

So is Mick going to be your messenger?  

No  

Good  

As wonderful as he is, that conversation wouldn’t have gone well  

He probably would have said it by accident  

I know  

That’s why I told him  

And he didn’t run away screaming?  

No  

So I was right 😏  

You just had to talk to him and not fuck it up  

Shut up  

But I was right  

🖕🏼  

 

Phum tosses his phone to side and turns to look at Peem. His boyfriend is studiously reading, intent on Phum’s computer.  

Phum gently squeezes Peem’s shoulder, releasing a fraction of the endless affection he holds for him. His phone buzzes again, and Phum debates for a moment before reaching for the device, opening his messages.  

Beer 🍺🎂👑  

I’m glad it went well  

Even though it was always going to go well  

You were that confident?  

You know how badly I can mess up when I’m talking  

Even if you messed up Peem wouldn’t hold it against you  

He didn’t before  

And you’re both too invested  

??  

Your boyfriend has argued with Toey about how pretty you are  

And you’ve been stupidly obsessed with Peem since you met him  

I’m not obsessed  

I just love him  

I know  

Trust me, everyone knows  

Good  

Obsessed  

I’m going back to my evening plans now  

Since I was right  

🙄  

Chapter Text

Chapter 4 (The Cabiata)

Peem carefully packs his notebook in his bag, ignoring his classmates’ chatter as they exit the classroom. The world feels wrong. It’s felt wrong since Phum had finally answered the question that had seemed branded in Peem’s mind. 

He’d thought that maybe Phum was needlessly embarrassed, or worried about Peem’s opinion of Phum’s family. Peem thought he had been prepared for any answer Phum could give.  

Peem had been wrong. 

Peem had been so wrong it would be laughable under other circumstances. 

“I was diagnosed with Acute Lymphoblastic Leukemia."  

Cancer. 

Phum, his puppy of a boyfriend, has had cancer. 

Twice. 

And both times he’d gone through the treatment alone, without his brothers, without his parents. And Peem had looked at the research Phum had showed him, plus some sites that shared a bit more detailed information – he now knows exactly how taxing the treatment was that had saved Phum’s life.  

Yet these revelations haven’t actually altered the world. 

They’ve just altered Peem’s. 

So the world feels wrong, and Peem is torn between wanting to rage because his Phum dealt with his childhood cancer alone, and wanting to freeze because of the crippling knowledge that Phum’s cancer had relapsed. 

What if it did again? A ten to fifteen percent chance of recurrence is still ten to fifteen percent more than Peem is comfortable with. 

Phum seems fine; energetic and healthy and as sweet as always. 

But Peem is terrified in ways he didn’t know it was possible to be. 

Because he can’t lose Phum. 

This isn’t lying about additions to a painting so he can spend more time with Phum: This is something completely outside of Peem’s control. 

“Procrastinating again?” 

Peem startles at Q’s question, jerking back and almost dropping his bag in the process. 

“You need a bell,” Peem grumbles, “and why do you always think I’m procrastinating?” 

“Because you always put things off,” Q comments as he gestures towards him, “and that apparently includes packing up your shit.” 

“Shut up,” Peem mutters, throwing his pencil case in the largest compartment and putting on his bag as he follows Q out the door.  

“ I was diagnosed with Acute Lymphoblastic Leukemia.”  

Phum is fine now. 

He’s been fine since he came back for upper secondary. 

He’s been fine. 

“I’m meeting Toey for coffee and snacks. You can join us,” Q comments, pulling Peem from his thoughts again, “if you want to procrastinate some more.” 

“I’ll pass,” Peem replies, already envisioning Q and Toey’s flirting. “And I wasn’t procrastinating.” 

“Sure you weren’t,” Q answers. “Oh,” Q pauses before continuing, “so that’s why you were so slow, you were waiting,” Q laughs. “I should have known.” 

“What?” 

Q points and Peem doesn’t even try to suppress the smile that breaks out when he sees Phum walking up to the base of the stairs outside of the Fine Arts building.  

“Go enjoy your date, Q,” Peem comments as he heads down the stairs. 

He ignores the “I will!” half shouted at his back, coming to a stop in front of Phum. 

“What are you doing here?” Peem questions as he reaches up, anxious hands adjusting his grip on his bag. 

“I thought we could go to the park,” Phum smiles, “unless you want to go somewhere else?” 

Peem shakes his head. “Running away from work?” 

“Maybe,” Phum smiles, “want to run away with me?” 

“You’re ridiculous,” Peem mutters, letting Phum take his hand. 

“You didn’t say no,” Phum laughs as he leads Peem to the car. 

Sitting in the shade twenty minutes later, purchased snacks and drinks on the grass beside them, Peem leans back, arms stretched behind him to brace himself, and turns to look at Phum. 

His boyfriend looks happy, comfortable despite still wearing his uniform. Really, it isn’t fair sometimes, how beautiful his boyfriend is without trying.  

“I needed to get away,” Phum comments with a slight shrug, “even if it’s just for a little while. And,” he continues, reaching for Peem’s hand, “I promised I’d tell you about everything.” 

“Bad day?” Peem questions, steadily taking in Phum’s pursed lips and tense shoulders. 

Phum hums in response and looks away. “My parents are coming back to Bangkok tonight. They always want to do at least one dinner with all of us. But,” Phum shrugs, “you know how those go.” 

“Hm,” Peem briefly tightens his hold on Phum’s hand. “I’ll go with you.” 

“Peem,” Phum starts, turning back to face him. “You don’t -” 

“No,” Peem interrupts, leaning forward to place a finger over Phum’s lips. “I’m going. It’s my right, isn’t it?” 

Phum had frozen when Peem had leaned forward, and Peem worries for a moment that he’s overstepped. That when Phum finally does move, it will be to offer Peem a stilted smile that doesn’t reach his eyes.  

It’s the smile Phum gives to acquaintances, or overly enthusiastic vendors. 

Secretly, Peem hates that smile. 

Peem waits. As two seconds become seven Peem forces his breathing to remain steady and keeps his eyes on Phum. 

At eleven seconds Phum seems to shake off his frozen state, carefully moving Peem’s hand from his mouth and clasping it in his. 

“Of course it’s your right; it’s certainly not anyone else’s.” Phum tilts his head slightly, keeping Peem’s gaze. “I just don’t want you to feel like you have to,” Phum eventually says, “especially since the dinner won’t be anything like dinner with your family.” 

“Phum,” Peem debates for a moment before shifting, sitting up fully and turning so he’s facing his boyfriend. “You know that doesn’t matter to me, right?” Peem reaches out so he’s holding both of Phum’s wrists. “I’m going to spend time with you, not your parents.” 

“Of course,” Phum agrees, but his voice has gone flat and he’s dropped his gaze to where Peem is still holding his wrists. 

When Phum doesn’t continue, Peem softly sighs before letting go of Phum’s left wrist and moving back to sit next to Phum, leaning against Phum’s right shoulder and adjusting his grip so he’s holding Phum’s hand. 

Phum seems content to let the silence stretch, and Peem allows it for a time, taking in the gentle sound of water lapping against the bank and the indistinct snippets of conversation from strangers. 

Beside him, Phum looks like any other college student enjoying the park: He looks young, vibrant and healthy in the afternoon sun. 

Phum looks healthy, but he was diagnosed with Acute Lymphoblastic Leukemia as a child. 

Phum looks relaxed, but his brows are drawn in a tense line because of an upcoming dinner with his parents.  

“Tell me about Germany.” Peem says, offering Phum what he hopes is an encouraging smile. 

“Germany,” Phum repeats. “Okay. What do you want to know?” 

Everything. Peem wants to know everything. What was it like, moving to a new country as a sick child? Was he scared? Was he lonely? How often did he cry? 

Is Germany why Phum didn’t let Peem know about his birthday? 

“What was it like?” 

“Cold,” Phum answers with half a smile. “I didn’t spend a lot of time outside, but I remember it being cold if it wasn’t summer. I remember drawing in the frost on the windows.” 

Peem smiles, picturing a small Phum using his finger to make designs on the glass. “I’m sure they were masterpieces.” 

“Definitely not,” Phum laughs, “but I always made a bear first, or at least its face.” 

“Of course you did.” Peem murmurs. “What else?” 

“The tv in the activity room at the hospital rotated the same three cartoons,” Phum answers lightly, slightly shaking his head. “I had them memorized for years, even after I came back.” 

“I bet you weren’t the only one.” 

“No,” Phum shares, even as he looks back out across the park. “I didn’t even know what I was saying, but it was easy enough to pick up. It was a good distraction, I guess.” Phum shrugs. “I still remember some of the theme songs now, and it’s been years since I’ve seen any of them.” 

Peem tightens his hold on Phum’s hand, fondness warring with disquiet because he can imagine it. Tiny, sick Phum watching cartoons he can’t understand often enough he memorizes foreign words. 

How much time did Phum spend in that activity room? 

As adorable (Peem is certain of that, if nothing else) as Phum would have been, singing along to German cartoons, Peem also cannot help but think of the reason why Phum was in that hospital in the first place. 

“I wish I’d known you then,” Peem offers a wan smile. “It sounds like you could have used a friend.” 

“If only,” Phum murmurs. “We could have been like one of our dramas, childhood best friends who fall in love.” 

Peem lets out a breathless laugh. “Yeah. That would’ve been nice. Late night phone calls, right?” 

“Oh,” Phum answers, ”yeah. It’s a five-hour time difference, though.” Peem’s breath catches at the lost quality of Phum’s voice, and he’s viscerally reminded of how only Fang had answered Phum’s calls. 

Peem resists the urge to bang his fist on the ground due to his lack of tact. Still, there will be time for him to yell in frustration later; now, he needs to steer the conversation back to safer waters. 

He needs to remind Phum that he’s no longer alone. 

“So?” Peem questions with a deliberately casual air as he turns, ensuring Phum is looking directly at him. “I’ve always enjoyed our talks at night. Besides,” Peem continues with a smile, “I always want to be your comfort zone.” 

Peem startles when Phum uses their clasped hands to twist and pull Peem to him, catching Peem against his chest before wrapping his arms around him in a hug. 

“You would have been,” Phum murmurs. “And you are now. Always.” 

Peem exhales. 

“Of course,” Peem agrees, “but I’m sorry I couldn’t be before. That you were alone, then.” 

Peem drops his head to Phum’s shoulder, hopes Phum missed how his voice cracked midsentence. 

Phum’s arms tighten around him briefly before Phum leans back and Peem meets his gaze.  

“It wasn’t all bad,” Phum starts. “I mean, the treatments weren’t exactly fun, and I was inside all the time at first, but afterwards school wasn’t that bad. I got to experience a country I never would have, otherwise.” 

Oh no. 

Peem wants to hear about Phum’s time in Germany. Truly. He wants to know what it was like, how Phum spent his days. He wants to know what Phum ate besides Leberknödel, and what music he listened to. He wants to truly understand what that time was like for Phum. 

He doesn’t want Phum downplaying the experience in an attempt to spare Peem’s feelings. 

Shit. 

“Phum.” 

“Yes?” Phum answers, complete with a quizzical half smile. 

“You don’t –” Peem sighs, starts again. “What did you like the most, while you were there?” 

Phum smiles, and talks about the markets, and the orchestra performances he got to attend when he was older. 

Phum describes his tutors, and Peem even smiles when Phum describes the time he convinced his younger cousins to cover their garden in bubbles. 

And yet Peem keeps returning to Phum’s earlier words. 

“The treatments weren’t exactly fun.”  

“My cousins took turns visiting when they could.”   

“I was inside all the time.”  

Peem rests his head on Phum’s shoulder and plans. 

“Food’s here,” Peem calls, setting the bag on the table. “Pad Thai and Pad Kra Pao for you hungry people.” 

“You love us,” Tan comments as he bounds over to the table, “even though you didn’t let me invite my teerak.” 

“I couldn’t bring mine either.” Toey pouts, “Are you mad at Q?” 

“What?” Peem questions, distracted. “No, I’m not mad at Q.” 

“Then why wasn’t he invited?” 

“He has questions about Phum,” Beer answers Toey, walking up with Mick a step behind him. “We all knew Phum in high school.” 

“Sometimes,” Peem starts, shooting Beer a half-hearted glare, “you could try not being  omniscient.” 

“I could,” Beer replies, “but there’s no fun in that.” 

“For you,” Peem mutters, taking a serving of Pad Kra Pao.   

Beer smiles and takes a seat across from Peem as Mick sits to Beer’s left, barely looking up from his phone.  

“You want to know more about Phum?” Tan questions from beside Peem, “Why not just ask him? Isn’t your teerak honest with you?” 

“Of course Phum is honest with me,” Peem snaps, thinking of the countless websites and copies of medical reports Phum had shared. “But you’re dating his brother: How often does Fang downplay something because he doesn’t want you to be upset?” 

Tan appears to suddenly be starving, judging by how quickly he begins to eat. 

“P’Phum is worried you’ll be upset about something from high school?” Toey questions from Peem’s left, drawing his attention away from Tan and his truly awful table manners. 

Peem sighs and takes a bite of his dinner.  

“You know Phum,” Beer answers when Peem lets the silence stretch a beat too long, “he doesn’t like upsetting his friends,” Beer turns to look at Peem, “or his boyfriend.” 

“I’m still confused,” Toey states, looking from Peem to Beer.  

“How was Phum when he first got back to Thailand?” 

“P’Phum was so nice!” Toey answers Peem’s question with a smile. “He always brought me snacks and he and P’Fang looked out for me. You can’t get upset with him for that though. He never started the fights, just helped me when the seniors were bullying me.” 

Peem shakes his head. “I knew that,” he confirms, “and I’m not upset that he helped you. I meant,” Peem sighs, “was he sick?” 

“Peem.” 

“What?” Peem raises his eyebrow in question, daring Beer to continue. “It’s just a question.” 

“He wasn’t,” Mick answers, finally looking up from his phone. 

“Mick -” 

“Phum was quiet,” Mick continues, ignoring Beer’s interruption, “like me. We’d play video games in his room and talk about all the things people said when they forgot we were around.”  

Peem stops, chopsticks laden with Pad Thai halfway towards his mouth. How did you forget Phum was in a room?  

How could someone forget Phum ? 

“He wasn’t always quiet,” Tan counters, pulling Peem from his thoughts. Peem quickly takes the bite of his Pad Thai, ignoring the amused glance Beer sends his way. 

“No,” Beer agrees, “not when we were playing a game, but he wasn’t joining us for class events.” 

“P’Phum came to my class play,” Toey adds. “I only helped with the set, but he and P’Fang came anyway. They even brought me noodles.” 

Of course they did. 

“He’s a good friend,” Peem comments. “I’m glad he looked after you, Toey. But you’re sure he wasn’t sick?” 

“He and Fang were just being harassed by classmates,” Tan says. “Other than that, he was fine from what I saw.” 

“Well I didn’t have classes with him,” Toey looks to Beer. “Was he absent a lot?” 

“No,” Beer comments, “he wasn’t. No more than anyone else, at least.” 

“You’re sure,” Peem confirms, looking between Beer and Mick. “Phum was okay.” 

“He helped me with homework,” Mick states as he steals a bite off Beer's plate, “especially when preparing for the O-NET.” 

“We would study at his house,” Beer adds, “especially once the library got too crowded.” 

Peem can picture it; Phum, Beer, and Mick surrounded by textbooks and takeout, notes scattered across the floor. 

“And his parents?” 

“Wait,” Tan leans across the table. “You’ve been asking about Phum.” 

“Please tell me you noticed that before now,” Beer comments as he takes a bite of Pad Kra Pao.  

“Ha,” Tan replies. “I just don’t get why Fang wasn’t invited, since you’re just talking about his brother.” 

Peem freezes. 

“I don’t -” 

“Fang was busy, Tan. When he wasn’t in his classes he was helping his parents with their business. And,” Beer pauses, glancing at Peem before continuing, “I’m sure Peem didn’t want to put Fang in an awkward position.” 

“Huh?” Tan drops his chopsticks in his confusion. 

Peem sighs, “Fang is very loyal.” 

“Yes?” 

“Fang’s quiet too,” Mick murmurs. 

“He is,” Beer adds with a nod. “Often because he doesn’t want to betray anyone’s confidence.” 

“My Fang would never –” 

“He wouldn’t,” Peem agrees, “so I couldn’t trust he’d answer my questions, especially since he didn’t once already.” 

“You asked about their parents?” Beer questions before Tan can interject (probably a good thing, judging by the look on his face). 

“Yes,” Peem exhales. “I don’t know them that well, and Phum’s relationship with them is strained. How was it when you visited their house in high school?” 

“Probably not different from how they are with you,” Toey comments. “What?” he questions at the incredulous looks sent his way. “People don’t change that much.” 

“And you’re an expert now, nong ?” 

“Hey!” Toey laughs in mock outrage, pointing his chopsticks at Tan. “I know things!” 

Peem leans back in his chair, letting the bickering of his friends ease some of the tension from his shoulders. 

Phum wasn’t sick when he got back to Thailand.  

Phum wasn’t sick. 

Peem smiles and leans back against Phum’s chest, laughing at the characters on screen. Phum had been quick to agree to a break, and the happy surprise that had taken over his face when Peem had slotted himself against his chest was something Peem would be secretly sketching at the first opportunity. 

Q could never see; he would never let Peem live it down. 

For now though, Peem simply enjoys the warmth of Phum against his back, and the knowledge that his boyfriend is here with him. 

“I told you you’d like it,” Phum murmurs against his ear. 

“I never said I wouldn’t,” Peem counters, easily matching Phum’s light tone.  “Now be quiet; I’m trying to watch your show.” Phum drops a kiss in Peem’s hair and Peem swiftly turns to face him. “You’re shameless.” 

“Only with you,” Phum teases, “but I thought we weren’t supposed to be talking?” 

“Shut up,” Peem mutters, unable to think of a better rejoinder as he turns back to the television. 

During the brief pause between episodes half an hour later Phum says softly, “I really am fine now.” 

“Hm?” Peem questions, attention split between screen and his boyfriend. 

“You don’t even know you do it, do you?” 

“Do what?” 

“You keep your hand on my pulse,” Phum responds after a moment, raising their forearms to Peem’s eyeline. “I figured –” Phum stops, giving a slight shrug before starting again. “You have been since I told you.” 

Shit.  

“Sorry,” Peem moves to sit up only to be pushed back down moments later, his back against the cushions as Phum looms over him. “Phum!” 

“No,” Phum places his right index finger over Peem’s lips. “Don’t apologize. I told you something shocking, and you can react however you want. Besides,” Phum smiles, “I think it’s sweet.” 

Peem huffs a laugh around Phum’s finger before it’s withdrawn, Phum’s hand moving to rest over Peem’s heart. “You’re impossible.” 

“Not the worst thing you’ve called me.” 

“Phum!” Peem laughs even as Phum leans down, pulling him in for a kiss. 

Peem closes his eyes and basks in the moment. 

“I love you.”  

It’s just as sincere as the first time Phum said it, and Peem ignores the blush he feels staining his cheeks as he refuses to look away. 

“I love you too, even though we have to restart the episode now.” 

“I think we can manage,” Phum comments, shifting so he’s once again behind Peem on the sofa. Once settled, Peem pointedly takes a breath before he returns his hand to Phum’s wrist, fingertips resting on his pulse. 

Phum uses his free hand to reach for the remote, and Peem makes a questioning noise in his throat when Phum presses pause rather than rewind. 

“My parents want to have dinner later this week,” Phum answers. “But Fang will be there, so you don’t -” 

“It’s a good thing I’ll be staying here, then,” Peem interrupts. “It saves you the trip to Auntie Pui’s.” 

“I know what you’re doing,” Phum comments after a moment, tightening his around Peem’s waist. “I just want you to know that.” 

“Just rewind the show, Puppy Phum.” 

He does, and Peem allows himself to get swept up in the manufactured drama, safe in this space with Phum’s pulse under his fingertips. 

Chapter Text

Chapter 5 (The Crescendo) 

Phum leans back against his sofa, tightening his hold on his bear. He still has an hour before he has to leave to pick up Peem from campus, and the words of his case study are blurring, losing their meaning and just becoming a jumbled mess.  

Sighing, Phum stands, planning to head to his room and get his Calc II textbook, only to jump moments later when his front door opens.  

“Shit!” 

At the door, Fang ducks his head, but not before Phum sees Fang’s pleased smile. 

“I’m glad I could amuse you,” Phum mutters. “Is there a reason you’re coming in my house unannounced?” 

“I can’t just want to spend time with my brother?” 

“No.” Phum mutters, carefully setting his bear back on the sofa. “Tan busy?” 

“I do go places without my boyfriend.” 

“Really?” Phum questions as Fang walks over, shoes carefully lined up by the door. “How often?” 

Fang playfully shoves Phum’s shoulder, and Phum lets himself fall back on the sofa with an exaggerated groan.  

“And where is Peem?” Fang questions as he sits next to him. “It’s not like you to be here without him.” 

“Ha,” Phum mutters. “I live here, but,” he continues, giving his brother a half-hearted glare, “you still haven’t explained why you’re in my condo.” 

“I was in the neighborhood.” 

“Sure,” Phum agrees, torn between amusement at Fang’s evasion and annoyance at his interruption. “What for?” 

“I got some snacks,” Fang answers after a moment. 

“In the opposite direction of your apartment.” Phum comments, voice flat. “Must be some snacks. What did you get?” 

“Thong Muan.” 

“Where?” Phum questions. “If you travelled here to get wafer biscuits, they must be delicious since you ate them all already.” At Fang’s questioning look, Phum gestures to where Fang’s shoes sit by the door. “No bag, and you certainly wouldn’t have left any in the car.” 

Fang ducks his head with a slight shrug. “You’ve been watching too many detective shows with Peem.” 

“I haven’t, actually,” Phum disagrees. “We mostly watch lakorns,” Phum pauses, “or kdramas. We’ve been watching more of those lately.” 

“Look at you, settled down and everything.” 

“Shut up,” Phum mutters, “and tell me why you really came here.” 

The teasing smile drops from Fang’s face, and Phum resigns himself to an unpleasant conversation. 

“Dinner,” Fang sighs. “There’s an event this weekend so they decided on Thursday; Mae wants us there before seven.” 

“Oh,” Phum ignores the rushing in his ears and reaches for his bear.  “Alright,” he continues, sitting up straighter and tightening his hold around his bear, “Peem and I will see you there, then. As directed by our parents.” 

Fang turns sharply, eyes narrowed at Phum’s flat tone, “Phum. They’re our parents, not your archenemy. And it’s just dinner.” 

Fang finishes his statement with a quiet sigh and Phum does his best to ignore how he hates it. He loves his brother, he does, but he hates that Fang still defends their parents. He knows it’s not fair to Fang, or rational, but he hates it all the same. 

“You’re right,” Phum answers after moment, voice terse in spite of his desire to not let his anger at their parents impact his conversation with Fang. “It is only dinner. I’m just nervous. It’s the first one since I told Peem why I was sent away.” 

“Okay,” Fang murmurs in response. “I thought things were going better though, after he talked with Tan and the others?” 

“Things were never going bad ,” Phum counters, defensive. “He was just worried about me after I told him something disconcerting.” 

“Right,” Fang agrees with a nod. “But,” Fang pauses, considering. “You know they won’t bring it up.” 

“Yeah,” Phum sighs, before continuing with just a touch of bitterness. “I know. It’s just different, now.” 

“Because he knows why you’re angry?” 

“Because I don’t have a reason to hide that I’m angry.” Phum keeps his eyes forward, squeezing his bear. 

The silence stretches, and Phum resists the urge to look at his brother. As much as he would like to know Fang’s reaction, a greater part of him is terrified of the knowledge. 

In Phum’s experience, he never enjoys what comes after a long pause; if someone needs that much time to figure out what to say, they’re always preparing to share bad news (in some form).  

Two more minutes pass before Fang tentatively rests his hand on Phum’s right forearm. “Are you still that angry?” Fang questions, “I thought things were getting better. You’ve been talking at the dinners, at least.” 

He has. Phum has been responding to his father’s questions in the hope that eventually his father’s comments (less common when Peem attends the meals) will lose their sting. He genuinely does want a better relationship with both of his parents; they may not ever achieve Peem’s family dinners, but Phum would like to at least be able to have a conversation. 

He just wishes it wasn’t so hard. He doesn’t want each word spoken  to his father to war with the memories of being sent away, of being away from his family for birthdays and holidays. But they do, so he keeps his responses short. 

It still hurts though, hearing the relief in Fang’s tone when he comments on Phum’s replies to their father. He has never wanted to make things harder for Fang, truly. It’s why he had avoided school activities and any classmates who weren’t Beer or Mick.  

Phum clutches his bear , fingers tightening in the soft brown fur before consciously, deliberately, releasing his hold as he lets out a breath. “Yeah,” Phum shakes his head, ignoring the despondency that winds through his thoughts. “You’re right.” Phum offers Fang half a smile.  

“Phum  -” 

“No.” Phum interrupts, “It’ll be fine. You and Tan take most of the conversation anyway.” 

“Just make sure to complement the food,” Fang eventually replies. 

“I always do,” Phum answers.  

Fang hums in agreement. “Pretty soon you won’t even need us there.” 

Phum can’t bring himself to reply at first, turning instead to glare at his brother. “I could not go.” 

“Sure,” Fang says with a shrug, “but you will.” 

“Yeah,” Phum sighs, “I will.” 

Phum smiles as he holds the door open for Peem, gesturing his boyfriend in with his left arm. Peem shakes his head as he walks past him, laughing. 

“You’re ridiculous,” Peem comments once Phum has followed him inside. 

“For holding the door?” 

“For driving me home.” Phum tilts his head in question at Peem’s answer, and Peem laughs again before continuing. “It’s out of your way, and I’m helping Auntie Pui.” 

“We can both help Auntie Pui,” Phum smiles as he takes the apron Peem had been reaching for. 

“Hey!” Peem steps toward him, but Phum has already slipped the apron on, reaching behind himself to finish tying the string. 

“Oh let my nephew-in-law help,” Auntie Pui says with a pat to Phum’s shoulder. “We get more tips when he delivers drinks anyway.” 

“Auntie Pui,” Peem starts as he grabs a different apron, “please stop.” 

“Why? It’s the truth. Tell me, Phum,” Auntie Pui continues, “does my nephew not tell you how handsome you are? That’s a shame.” 

Phum exhales a slightly nervous laugh before Peem steps neatly in front of him, partly blocking Phum’s view of Auntie Pui standing by the register. “He knows how he looks, Auntie; why should I have to tell him?” 

“So he’s not stolen away by someone with sweet words.” She’s gone a moment later, getting milk from the fridge and finalizing the half-made drinks on the far end of the counter. 

“Was she right?”  

“What?” Phum questions, paying more attention to Peem’s teasing tone than his words. 

“Is someone with sweet words going to steal you from me?” 

“I don’t know,” Phum muses. “It might be nice to hear sweet words more than once.” 

He steps away then, moving to take the order of the two high school girls standing by the counter, ignoring Peem’s indignant huff from behind him. 

The two girls smile and ask questions about the menu, giggling and pointing at different items. It takes several minutes before they finally settle on iced lattes at Phum’s suggestion. They take turns glancing back as they walk towards a table, and Phum shakes his head, amused. Phum quickly tells Aunt Pui the order, not yet confident in making the drinks himself. He watches, though, and even pours the milk under Aunt Pui’s careful instruction.  

A glance shows Peem gathering up used dishes, so Phum takes the lattes from Aunt Pui and walks them over to the two girls. They smile and one manages a stuttered thank you while her friend giggles beside her. As Phum turns to leave, however, the friends seem to overcome their nervousness, one of them calling his name to get his attention. 

“Yes?” Phum questions, “Would you like something else, too?” 

“Oh,” one of the girls says with a laugh, “no thank you, P’Phum. I’m Nam.” 

Phum offers a wai. “It’s nice to meet you.” 

“I’m Manow,” the girl on Phum’s right says, having finally finished giggling. “I just wanted you to know that I think you look really nice.” 

Phum offers a half-hearted smile, unsure how exactly to respond to the girl. He doesn’t want to upset her, but he also doesn’t want to continue this conversation. He sees Peem two tables over, studiously wiping the tabletop and pointedly not looking in Phum’s direction. 

Manow, not deterred by Phum’s silence, widens her smile a fraction before speaking. “How is university, P’Phum? Was the entrance exam hard?” 

Phum glances down, despite knowing he’s not wearing his Engineering shirt. “You know I’m in university?” Phum questions, a thread of confusion in his tone. 

Manow laughs. “I guessed,” she reveals, “since you’re older than us and working so close to the university.” 

“Good guess,” Phum quietly replies with half a smile. 

“Thanks,” Manow giggles, seemingly unable to help herself. “But,” she pauses, only continuing when Phum stays silent, “how is it?” 

“University’s wonderful,” Phum admits, offering a slight sigh of relief as he answers. “There’s a lot of work, but it’s worth it. And,” he continues, “the exam was difficult, but manageable.”   

“Hm,” Manow hums in agreement, fiddling with her straw before looking up. Phum offers a slight smile since the girl has questions about university, and takes a half step closer as she begins to ask her next question. “Do you have a girlfriend, P’Phum?” 

He really, really should have known better. 

Of course she would ask if he had girl friend.  

Off to the side, Peem knocks over the chair he had been straightening. Phum looks back to see Manow waiting for his answer, taking a slow sip of her drink. 

“I’m dating someone, actually,” Phum murmurs. “Enjoy your drinks,” he remembers to add as he quickly backs away, only stopping when he’s by the register. 

“So,” Peem starts, coming to stand beside Phum’s left, his back leaning against the counter, “are you being stolen away with sweet words?” 

“Well,” Phum turns slightly, angling himself toward Peem, “they were nice to hear.” 

“You -” 

“But,” Phum continues, interrupting Peem, “I prefer the words from a certain Fine Arts student on my birthday.” Phum leans over, whispering into Peem’s ear, “Don’t worry, Cat, I can’t be stolen from you.” 

Peem ducks his head but Phum sees the pink blossoming on his cheeks, the smile that graces his face.  

“I thought you boys were here to help me,” Auntie Pui states as she comes up to the counter, “or was I mistaken?” 

As Peem hurries away, crossing to the tables by the door, Phum shakes his head at Auntie Pui. 

“You snuck up on us.” 

“No,” she denies, “there’s no sneaking when it’s my cafe. And if you help my nephew get the work done now, I’ll let you both leave early.” 

“Peem lives here.” 

“Does he?” Auntie Pui shakes her head. “Seems like my nephew is finding somewhere else to sleep most nights. If he’s going to be here so little, he should take his things. Then I can rent out the room to a college student who actually needs it.” 

“Auntie Pui we – I –” Phum feels his cheeks heat with embarrassment, although he’s not sure how much is due to Auntie Pui’s comment and how much is due to his inability to finish a sentence. 

Auntie Pui laughs. “Why don’t you go wash the dishes until I need you to deliver more drinks.” 

Phum gladly follows the order, pausing only to take the dirtied coffee cups Auntie Pui passes him. At the sink, Phum carefully rinses each cup before reaching for the dish soap. Was Auntie Pui serious or just continuing her teasing? Peem knows his past now, so Phum has no secrets to keep, but as much as Phum would love to wake up with Peem every morning, he’s also terrified. 

Phum has never lived with anyone. 

When he was younger, he was either in the hospital or alone in his room. And once he was back in Thailand, Beer and Mick were only over occasionally. Even Fang kept his distance, visiting like their other friends, but not staying for more than a few hours. Peem has been staying over more often (almost always unless he’s finishing a project late at the studio) but that’s still not the same as him living with Phum. 

Would Peem even want to live together?  

“I think it’s clean,” Peem comments with a laugh as Phum fumbles the cup, dropping it in the sink. 

“You take after your aunt.” 

“Commenting on you doing dishes?” 

“Startling people,” Phum answers, flicking the water from his hands in Peem’s direction. 

“You’re lucky the apron blocked that,” Peem replies, before gesturing toward the cup. “Lost in thought?” 

“Something like that,” Phum comments, hoping Peem won’t question him further. 

“Want to talk about it?” 

Yes . Eventually. Definitely not standing in Auntie Pui’s cafe with an audience of customers. 

“Later?” Phum dries his hands on the kitchen towel and tangles Peem’s left hand with his right. “I promise it’s not me keeping anything from you. You’re still my comfort zone. I –” 

Peem’s finger rests against Phum’s lips. “Take a breath, Puppy Phum. We can talk later,” Peem takes half a step closer and smiles, “just us, yeah?” 

“Just us,” Phum confirms, leaning into Peem.  

Aunt Pui calls out then, and Phum huffs a laugh even as he steps back. “But we have work first.” 

“Yeah,” Peem sighs. “Work first.” 

Phum unties the bag of takeout as he glances to where Peem had set their school bags down by the sofa. It’s a subtle reminder of his boyfriend, but Phum smiles regardless. It doesn’t matter that they’ve only been apart for twenty minutes, that Phum had dropped Peem off so he could shower while Phum had left to pick up dinner. The sight of their bags, placed side-by-side by Peem, reminds Phum that he’s not alone; Phum lives for those small, unconscious reminders. 

His friends can never know: He’d never live it down. 

By the time Phum’s taken out the containers and put the reheated jjajangmyeon on two plates, Peem has joined him in the kitchen, hair still damp from the shower and in clean, paint-free clothes. Peem absently pats Phum’s shoulder as he takes one of the plates. 

“No one else likes black bean sauce,” Peem comments. “Thank you for ordering it.” 

“Of course,” Phum grabs the remaining plate and follows Peem to the table. “Your friends are idiots.” 

“Hey!” Peem laughs, “They’re your friends too.” Peem pauses and takes a bite of sauce and rice, “But they are wrong about jjajangmyeon.” 

Phum hums in agreement, mouth full. “Of course,” Phum adds after he’s swallowed. “We’ll just have to order it more often.” 

“I knew there was a reason I love you,” Peem states with a teasing smile. “I’m thinking at least twice a month, maybe more. And at least once with our friends here, just to see Q’s face while we eat it. He can’t stand the texture,” Peem adds with a small laugh. 

Phum smiles and subtly shifts his chair closer to Peem, moving until their knees touch. Peem doesn’t comment, but he does softly push his knee against Phum’s. They stay that way throughout dinner, and Phum wonders (again) what he did in a past life to have Peem with him now. 

He wishes he knew, so he could do it again to ensure he and Peem are never parted. 

On the table, Phum’s phone buzzes. 

Beer 🍺🎂👑 

Fang said you’re being melancholy?  

Fang doesn’t know what he’s talking about  

Okay.  

So tell me why Fang *thinks* you’re being melancholy  

Phum sets his phone aside without replying. 

“Anything interesting?” Peem questions. 

“No,” Phum answers after taking a final bite of food, “just Beer thinking he’s smart." 

“Beer seems to be pretty smart,” Peem replies with a shrug. “He’s right most of the time,” Peem explains. “As annoying as that is.” 

“Yeah,” Phum agrees with a sigh. “I know. I – ” 

Phum’s phone buzzes again. 

Beer 🍺🎂👑  

Dinner with your parents.   

That’s rough  

 

It’s not my favorite thing  

No, but it’s also not anything new   

Peem knows now  

And he’s been so happy when I talk to them at dinner  

I don’t want to upset him  

You won’t  

You don’t know that  

I do because we already had this conversation  

Peem loves you   

If you’re actually worried just tell him  

It worked last time  

Stop being smug  

You can’t know it will work out this time  

Talk to your boyfriend  

Please  

I have much more enjoyable conversations planned for this evening  

Let me have them  

You’re the one who texted me  

I’m a kind-hearted friend  

Now go talk to your boyfriend  

And don’t call me later saying you messed up  

It’s a conversation  

Phum shakes his head and sets his phone back on the table, staring at his mostly empty plate. 

“Stop thinking so hard,” Peem teases from beside him, “and talk to me instead.” 

“Sure,” Phum agrees as he pushes his plate away, no longer hungry. “How’s your painting? Almost done?” 

“Phum,” Peem replies, “I don’t want to talk about my painting.” He smiles, taking Phum’s hand and leading him to the sofa, “What were you thinking about at the cafe?” 

"Oh,” Phum murmurs, considering. He thought several things at the cafe, but one has more immediate impact. “Fang came by. My parents want us to attend dinner on Thursday, since they have something this weekend.”  

“Okay. We –” 

“It’s alright if you can’t go,” Phum rambles. “It’s a weekday, and I know you have a lot of work for your classes. No need for both of us to suffer.” 

“Hey,” Peem counters. “I told you already that you’re not going alone. Now,” he continues, shifting so he’s facing Phum more fully, “what are you really worried about?” 

Phum sighs. “I’m not – " Phum pauses, restarts. “They bring out the worst in me,” he admits. “My father especially. And it’s been getting better, but I’m still angry at him and sometimes I can’t hold it in. I can’t always stay quiet, and now you know – you know why I was sent away.” Phum takes a breath when Peem squeezes his hand and leans forward a bit more. 

For a moment, Phum just stares at their clasped hands, waiting for Peem’s judgement. 

“You’re worried you’ll say the wrong thing?” Peem eventually questions, voice soft. 

“I’m worried I’ll say what I’m thinking.” Phum answers. “You know now, so I’m not trying to hide anything. But what if I can’t stay quiet this time? What if I say the things raging in my head? I don’t what to be that person to you.” Phum continues, quieter. “I don’t want you to see me differently.” 

Phum startles when Peem forcefully taps the back of his head. “You’re an idiot, Puppy Phum.” 

“What?” 

“You honestly think I’ll look at you differently if you say something at dinner?” Peem drops Phum’s hand and instead grasps both of Phum’s shoulders. “If I was going to judge you based on conversations, I would have stopped talking to you after you told me I couldn’t talk to Kluen.” 

Of course. 

That wasn’t one of Phum’s proudest moments.  

“This is different though,” Phum states. “It’s not just me saying the wrong thing because I’m upset and jealous. If I do say the wrong thing at dinner, it will be out of anger.” Phum sighs, “I don’t want that anger near you. I don’t want to talk to you the way he talks to me.” 

“You didn’t give in last time.” Peem affirms. 

“You didn’t know why I was sent away last time,” Phum counters.  

“You’re regretting telling me?” Peem questions, and Phum's hand clenches into a fist when Peem’s voice cracks with emotion. 

“Never,” Phum exclaims, almost tripping over his words in his haste to reassure Peem. “I will never regret telling you.  I’m just terrified.” Phum admits with a one-armed shrug. “You’re the first person I’ve told about Germany,”  

“What do you mean?” Phum questions after a moment, leaning back slightly and looking directly at Phum.  

Phum looks away. 

“It’s the thing we don’t talk about,” Phum mutters. “Always has been. Beer and Mick only know because Fang told them; he wanted someone to keep an eye on me at school.“ 

“Phum,” Peem says, voice soft. “Look at me, yeah?” Phum slowly looks up and Peem briefly tightens his grip on Phum’s shoulders. “I’m so sorry you didn’t have a space to talk about it before. But now you can always talk about it with me, okay?” 

Phum ignores the sting in his eyes and the tear he feels falling down his right cheek, managing a nod if not a verbal response. He takes a moment, focuses on the weight of Peem’s hands on his shoulders, and the honest (if slightly sad) expression of Peem before him. 

“But we don’t talk about my A.L.L. and I hate that sometimes. I get so angry, and now that I’m not hiding the cause from you, I’m terrified, Peem. What if I upset them at dinner? What if he says something and this time, I don’t just let it go?” 

“Then I’ll take over the conversation,” Peem quickly replies in a firm tone. “I’ll be there, right beside you.”  

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Phum reiterates. “I never want you to be hurt, and I’m terrified that I’ll get so angry at him I’ll turn on you.”  

“You won’t.” 

“You don’t know –” 

“I do, actually. Because the last time your father upset you, you kept yourself away from me for hours on the off chance that your mood would upset me.” Peem leans forward slightly and offers Phum a small smile before continuing. “And even if you do say something on Thursday, I would never judge you for it. Regardless of what happens, I’ll be going home with you after.” 

Phum freezes. 

Part of him (the majority, actually) accepts what Peem is saying. He knows Peem won’t leave, won’t abandon him because of a wrong word. But the rest of him is terrified. Peem won’t leave him, regardless of what Phum says: What if he lashes out at Peem? 

Phum can’t hurt Peem. 

It’s the rule he gave himself after his disaster of a prank at the mall.  

“I don’t want to say something to you that could hurt you,” Phum admits. “You don’t deserve that.” 

Silence reigns and Phum studiously looks at where his hands are clenched in his lap. He can’t bring himself to look at Peem, to see the disappointment Phum sees in his nightmares. 

“You’re right,” Peem says and Phum flinches, knuckles turning white in his lap. “I wouldn’t deserve it, but,” Peem’s gentle hands raise Phum’s head, “you’re forgetting that I know you. I know you wouldn’t mean it. Besides,” Peem continues with a warm smile, “there’s no reason for you to worry; I’d forgive you.” 

Phum flinches back, startling Peem to the point that Peem’s hands drop from his shoulders. “Don’t.” 

“Phum?” 

“You can’t do that,” Phum whispers. “You can’t just forgive me when I hurt you. You deserve better than that, Peem.” 

“Phum -” 

“No,” Phum continues, ignoring Peem’s wide eyes and the concerned line of tension between his brows. “I don’t want to be that person. I don’t want to be a person who hurts you, and you shouldn’t let me get away with it just because we’re dating.” 

Phum’s shoulders drop when he finishes his comment, but he still can’t bring himself to look up at Peem, to see what reaction has been brought on by his words.  

As the silence stretches, Phum feels his shoulders begin to hunch again, and he silently prays that he hasn’t royally fucked this up.  

Seconds pass, then a full minute, and Peem still doesn’t speak. 

Damn it.   

Fang was wrong. Hell, Beer was wrong. Phum has absolutely fucked up this conversation. He should have known better, really. He just got lulled into a false sense of confidence after telling Peem about his A.L.L. Obviously, he hadn’t explained himself well.  

Again. 

He startles a bit when he feels lips brush his forehead, and a glance up shows Peem leaning into his space, lips still a hairsbreadth away from his skin.  

“I told you to stop thinking so hard,” Peem murmurs, breath ghosting across Phum’s face with every word.  

“I -” 

“Shh,” Peem hushes him, placing a finger across Phum’s lips. “It’s my turn to talk.” 

Phum keeps his mouth closed. 

Peem smiles. “You’re thinking too much, Puppy Phum. You would never hurt me on purpose, okay? You wouldn’t. But we will hurt each other sometimes.” Peem wraps his left hand around Phum’s still-clasped hands. “We’ll get hurt and it will be an accident, and we’ll forgive each other because we love each other. I can say that I’ll forgive you for anything you say because I know whatever you say won’t actually be directed at me. And,” Peem continues, “just because we both know I’ll forgive you doesn’t mean I won’t make you earn it. When have I ever let you off the hook, Phum?” 

Phum watches his boyfriend, looks closely at his soft smile and relaxed shoulders, comfortable in an oversized t-shirt Phum is fairly certain is his.   

“Thank you for that,” Phum finally replies. “And I know you’ve held me accountable,” he adds with a slight laugh. “I’m just really not looking forward to dinner.” 

“So look forward to after,” Peem states, calm as ever. 

“Oh?” Phum questions, leaning forward. “What’s happening after?” 

Peem smiles. “We’re going to put on our pajamas,” Peem starts, voice smooth as silk, “and then sit on the sofa and finish our drama.” 

“Just watch our drama?” Phum doesn’t attempt to hide the teasing note as he speaks, even as he makes sure he keeps his voice low. “That doesn’t sound particularly special.” 

“Are you saying spending time with me isn’t special?” Peem murmurs with an exaggerated pout. 

“Peem.” 

“Who said that’s not something special?” Peem questions again. “Or do you not want to watch the show with me? I could always watch it alone.”   

“No,” Phum quickly answers. “We started it together,” he whines, “so you can’t watch it without me.” 

“Great,” Peem smiles as he leans back, grabbing the remote. “No time like the present, right?” 

“I guess?” Phum says, watching with hint of confusion as Peem turns on the television, navigating to the correct application.  

“What?” Peem questions from beside him, voice still light. “Did you have other plans?” 

“No,” Phum answers after a moment. “You know that.” Phum watches as Peem smiles, comfortable and teasing (even if at Phum’s expense) and easily the brightest point in Phum’s life. 

“I did,” Peem confirms. “I -” 

“I love you,” Phum interrupts, unable to stay quiet, “so much. And I don’t know how I got so lucky, really, but –” 

“I told you,” Peem interrupts as he climbs into Phum’s lap, hands on the back of the sofa and knees bracketing Phum’s thighs, “to stop thinking so much. I thought the show would help, but apparently you’re too stubborn.” 

“Peem?” Phum’s hands rest on Peem’s waist, having instinctively moved when Peem did. Still, Phum’s startled by the sudden shift (and the warm weight of Peem against him). 

“Phum,” Peem sighs, leaning forward and brushing back Phum’s bangs with his right hand. “It’s time to stop overanalyzing for the night,” he orders, voice soft, right before he kisses all the thoughts out of Phum’s head. 

Phum may be stressed, and terrified, and a host of other emotions he cannot begin to name. But he’s not stupid.  

He kisses Peem back.