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Like all catastrophes, it began with a spark, a whisper, a sign.
Ira just couldn't resist, not when they'd spent nearly a week apart. Tawan had spent the last few days back in her hometown on family matters, and Ira had spent every waking moment working on her new songs, her mind always slipping back to the longing of her bodyguard.
When Tawan got out of the car in the underground parking lot of the record company building, Ira ran to her as soon as the elevator doors opened, wrapping her arms around Tawan's neck and pushing her until their bodies collided with the car on their back, pressed together, her messy long hair flying over Tawan's face, their kiss feverish, sprightly and deep, the bodyguard's hands gripping Ira's hips tightly, granting the same longing and desire in return.
Right at the moment, it felt glorious. They missed each other so much that Ira whimpered shakily into Tawan's mouth and Tawan gasped and kept her eyes closed for a long time after the kiss was over. Behind them, even Suzie, Ira's manager, and Kriang and Prayut, Tawan's agents, had to look away from them and no one could resist chuckling lightly at their eagerness.
It was in the aftermath where everything fell apart.
No one could have expected the reckless gatecrasher and the camera. He was not a threat or an enemy, just a young boy, a fan of Ira who just wanted a moment with the idol for a photo and an autograph. But there he was, caught in the act of a precious intimacy, photographing their kiss, hidden behind a concrete column. He shared it on his Weibo account, celebrating as if he had witnessed something beautiful before his eyes, and the internet went wild.
It was a blurred photo, but it was cleary Ira kissing a woman, the idol's hair hidding her face.
Thousands of shares, speculations, opinions, compliments, criticisms, reactions of all kinds, even from heartbroken, deluded, passionate fans. The news traveled through the capital and spread throughout the country, and there was not a single channel that did not ask questions about the mysterious woman that Ira was kissing so passionately.
Now here they are.
Ira’s entire team and her manager, and Tawan and her two loyal agents, in the conference room at the record company, a dead silence and tension in every eye. It’s as if everyone is waiting for Ira’s reaction, giving her some borrowed time to settle the chaos. She stands there, arms crossed, staring out the large windows on the top floor of the building, one shoulder leaning against the wall, distant, more resigned and silent, features that are nothing like her vibrant, playful and mischievous energy.
Tawan wants to reach her, but she can’t, not yet. She held Ira for hours last night, as the musician sobbed for forgiveness, feeling guilty, while Tawan promised her that she hadn’t done anything wrong and that they would get through this together, even if she wasn’t sure of anything herself. But for now, she needs to let Ira decide the course of things, and her team’s suggestions are already overwhelming enough.
"N’Ira, trust me, it's a great plan." Suzie, her manager, breaks the silence. "It worked wonders when I was managing actress Earn Sanithada. We made her relationship with Doctor Thananusak public and set boundaries and got the country rooting for their love. It worked then and it will work again."
Ira has trusted Suzie since forever. She remembers this case, the renowned actress who professed her love for a respected doctor, heiress of the St. King's Hospital chain. Ira believes it could work, she would like to go for it, but it is quite different this time.
Tawan is not a famous public figure lile the actress and the doctor. Tawan’s job requires discretion, alertness and composure. It’s all about moving quickly and quietly and being prepared for action with maximum advantage. Her family’s security company, The Sentinel, is trusted by its clients precisely because it is the best at keeping chaos under control.
Ira feels nothing but chaos right now.
So she won't. She won't expose Tawan to the cruel lens of the world, she won't let the newspapers and television and social media plaster Tawan’s beautiful face for everyone to see and gossip about.
This is about her and her alone.
Tightening her grip on herself, Ira turns to the people in the room, but her eyes blaze with firmness and certainty only for Tawan, who looks back at her with a kind of love that seems to overflow from the hands she flexes as if she is about to rush to catch Ira back in her space.
Ira wants it. She would let Tawan sweep her off her feet and carry her back to where no eyes can see them and no words can touch them and Tawan is the only existence she can feel.
"I'm grateful for your hard work, all of you. And for sticking with me through it all. But I've made my decision, and I'm not exposing my girl to the world."
My girl.
Tawan feels dizzy.
Reactions diverge as everyone looks at each other, the team confused and anxious, Suzie surprised and worried, Tawan's agents looking at their boss, but Tawan herself, through and through, never escapes Ira's eyes, hers turning into something bittersweet and yet so filled with confidence that Ira knows she needs to keep going until the end of this.
Ira takes a breath and turns to the manager. "P'Suzie, do you think you can get an exclusive with Pompam on short notice?"
"From Diversity?" Suzie brightens. "Of course, they've been trying to schedule an interview with you for ages now. Your friend and CEO Samanun herself called me the other day and I had to decline because of the tour. I bet we could manage it in a couple of days."
"Reach them." Ira takes another breath, as if she has to remind herself not to stop. She turns back to Tawan, always back to her. "Tell them we're going to give them something to remember."
"N'Ira..." Tawan calls softly, almost too whispered for the others to hear.
They're on opposite sides of the room, separated by a long table and a bunch of alarmed people, and yet it feels as if Ira is making a silent promise just for Tawan to trust.
"If they want to know about my sexuality, that's exactly what we're going to give them." She breathes. And breathes. And breathes. "I'm going to step out into the world, on my own terms, with my own words."
No questions, no retorts, no protests or encouragement. The team begins to move, making calls and arrangements, and Suzie immediately runs out of the room with Diversity on the phone. With a discreet nod from their boss, Agents Kriang and Prayut silently leave with the others.
In the midst of the movements, Ira stands once again with her arms crossed, staring out the windows, trying to steady her frantic beating heart. She doesn't want to tremble, she needs to be more certain than ever, but when Tawan's faded reflection appears behind her and strong arms pull her closer, into the fortress of her lover's arms, no words exchanged, Ira feels herself soften, stunned and falling, knowing that Tawan will never let her reach the ground, feeling how she holds her tight and gentle, another silent promise through it all.
That same afternoon, Ira sends a short message to her mother informing her that she is going to do something important that could impact everything else, but fortunately the Lady responds with a white heart emoji and nothing more is said between them.
Sam, Diversity’s CEO, comes in person to iron out the smallest details with Ira and her team. She seems proud of her friend, but she never says too much and never offers more than Ira is asking for, a safe space, a relatable presenter, a moment of honesty to protect what’s most dear to her.
And this is Tawan.
On the other hand, Tawan can barely sleep for the next two days. She holds Ira in her arms, silently assuring her that she won’t let go or try to stop her. But this inevitable guilt creeps into Tawan’s chest like an ache, and she wonders if it’s cowardice to let Ira go up on that stage alone, to let her expose her truth but not their relationship. She wonders if she should be doing more and better.
But in the day of the interview, when Ira wakes her with glowing amber eyes, when she kisses her until the oxygen runs out, when she makes love to her rawly in the shower and doesn't let go of her hand until they're out of the car in Sam's private parking lot at Diversity – right at that moment, a last gaze between them as Tawan goes to her post behind the audience and Ira is led by Suzie to the backstage – Tawan knows that all Ira needs is for her to be there, deep in the presence, as much as she's always been deep in Ira's heart since she saved her years ago.
The auditorium is filled with fans, journalists and photographers. In the front row, surprisingly, Ira’s friends, out and proud queer women in the industry, come to support her, being photographed and observed by the same eyes and lenses. From her seat, Sam looks at Tawan and nods solemnly, and this strange gesture seems to calm the stern bodyguard.
Pompam opens the show cheerfully and calls Ira on stage, a round of applause and distinct cheers from the crowd as she walks in with a bright smile, waving confidently, like the star she is in her flowing pink dress.
Her eyes, however, seek and find Tawan in the shadowy corner of her post, and her charming wink almost makes Tawan chuckle in the cracking center of her tension. Ira is equally tense, fearful, almost trembling in her own steps, but there is no turning back and withdraw at this point.
And maybe she just doesn't even want to.
“Khun Ira, my dearest!” Pompam clasps his hands together and bows, smiling at her and offering the seat next to him, waiting for her to sit gracefully. “Welcome, welcome. You know, I thought we’d have to kidnap you in order to get an exclusive. Are you always this busy for us?”
Ira laughs with practiced ease, brushing away a strand of her golden-gray hair. “My music and my fans come first, P’Pompam, don’t be so dramatic. You know I’ve been wanting to come to your show forever.”
"Alright, I'll let this one slide this time, but only because I know you have good news for your fans and we have a lot to talk about tonight, if you're willing to."
Breathe, Ira.
"You must know I never run from a fight, P'Pompam. Bring it on." She shrugs nonchalantly, causing the audience to laugh and applaud, along with the humorous host.
She is so absolutely endearing.
Into the darkness, in secret, Tawan smiles.
"First of all, of course, congratulations on the success of your album and the tour that has attracted fans all over Asia! Can we have a moment of cheering here?" Pompam stands up and waves his arms in the air, receiving the shouts and excited footsteps of the fans, followed by more applause. "There, there..." He calms everyone down, returning to his seat. "How does it feel to be in the spotlight, Khun Ira? Did you expect this, and did you always want to be a musician?"
"It's been a blessing full of surprises for sure, P'Pompam, especially because of the fans. And I've always appreciated music, yes." Ira's eyes warm with fond memories. "I used to make such a mess of sounds around the house, you can only imagine how parents in the military must have felt in the middle of that chaos." She makes a mischievous face and the fans and even journalists in the audience laugh. "Very early on I knew that I wanted to keep making sounds, maybe just a little more harmonious."
Everyone is laughing again, her sweet smile spreading wide, charming everyone. Beneath the surface, though, Ira can feel the sacred moment approaching, the inevitability of what this night means. Then, even from a distance, she meets Tawan’s eyes once more, and it’s a reminder of all the reasons that matters.
As the evening progresses, the host asks questions about her youth, her career, new compositions for her next album and even the possibility of expanding her tours to other continents. Ira answers everything with grace and a gentle smile, navigating through her reminiscences and desires even as her mind keeps returning to Tawan at her post, always looking for her, always needing to find her.
"We're on time, folks, getting to our last questions now!" Pompam then seems to finally look at her with less of a comedic air, offering some tenderness. "Khun Ira, you've been lighting up tonight as our most distinguished guest, but I believe there's something you'd like to share with all of us."
"There is something, yes." Ira responds with a confident smile, wrinkling her nose adorably at the fans already cheering at their posters and colors in the seats.
"I'm going to ask you a couple of questions now, then, and if you feel comfortable, you can answer them. How does that sound?"
"Come on, P'Pompam." Ira straightens up dramatically, causing more laughter. "I told you before, bring it on."
"Okay, you're the star...!" Pompam dramatizes back, raising his hands in mock surrender and laughing along with everyone else. "Khun Ira, recently a fan shared a photo of what appears to be you with another woman. What can you say about this? Is she a lover?"
"My lover." Ira answers without an inch of hesitation. "My girlfriend."
The crowd, which for a moment seemed to hold its breath, erupts in whistles and taunts, camera flashes and applause and shouts mixing together loudly. Tawan stiffens and watches, her eyes never leaving Ira's figure, ready to pull her off the stage and away from everyone's scrutiny, no matter the cost.
"Oh, love is in the air, then?" The host teases cheerfully. "Who is she, Khun Ira?"
"I'm not telling you, P'Pompam!" Ira sulks, playing jealous and irritated, folding her arms around her waist, almost towering over the poor man in her chair. "Trust me, she's very pretty and you might want to steal her from me."
Pompam laughs, shrugging. "Well, I'm happily married to my gentleman, so you'd be safe, but okay, young lady, keep your secrets!"
Ira smiles at him. Pompam has been openly gay for a while now, but the reassurance that they're on the same side eases the anxious tug at her heart.
She looks back at the audience, playing with gestures and expressions, but her eyes search only for Tawan, finding her in the same place.
Her own gentlewoman.
"Come closer, Khun Ira, there must be at least one hint you can give us about this romance of yours..." Pompam leans in like a curious little boy, waggling his eyebrows at the fans in the audience, who make noises of encouragement. "Have you always had a thing for the ladies or is this one special?"
Breathe, Ira.
Breathe and find Tawan among all people. So she does. She does find Tawan and she wears that same look, devotion, confidence, certainty, always gleaming for her.
"I fell in love with a woman a long time ago, when I was very young." Ira replies, her eyes on Tawan, no one around her able to see how unbreakably connected they are in the darkness. "But I've been interested in women over the years, and I guess it's always been there. In my heart, though, there's only her."
Adorable gasps and groans echo from the audience, and even her friends in the front row can't resist whistling and teasing. Pompam dramatically clasps his hands to his chest, closing his eyes and pouting, causing a new wave of laughter from everyone, Ira included.
Tawan would be laughing along if she weren’t feeling something quite other than easy amusement. Her heart is racing wildly, sweat pooling at the base of her spine beneath her blazer and on the back of her neck.
For Ira chooses not to expose her and their relationship, but she still makes a statement, she bravely asserts a truth, that for her there is the one and only, that her revealing her sexual orientation to the rest of the world does not mean she is available, because her heart already belongs to someone, only one.
Only Tawan.
"What a treat to know you're a romantic, Khun Ira, at this rate you'll have us all melting before the night is through." Pompam resumes and winks at her, amused. "As I said when we began, this is good news and Diversity is proud that you chose us to speak your truth. Do you think this will affect your public life from now on, if I may ask, and does that concern you?"
Breathe, Ira.
Tawan is right there. From the darkness, the bodyguard steps forward, her chest swelling, her fists clenching. One signal, one look, and she will run down the stairs and take Ira in her embrace and hold and shield and protect her from everyone and everything.
"Being a public figure, as you may know, every move, spontaneous or premeditated, is a risk." Ira tries to keep herself composed, whole, letting out an easy laugh as she receives a profuse nod from the host. "I think we have to learn to navigate between what matters and what doesn't, what is true and what is projection, and as long as we stay true to ourselves, everything will be fine. I'm still Ira. I'm a public figure, an artist, and also a lesbian woman, and still a human being, not much different from everyone else."
The spoken word, the revealed truth, arouses a furor of voices and exclamations and more flashes and applause and excited howls. But Tawan feels starstruck at her words, because Ira can be so impulsive, anxious, irritable and moody at times, but here and now she sounds serene, so sure of what she is saying, so fierce yet soft in her truth, and the applause from the audience is the proof.
Look at me again.
Tawan can only silently plead.
I need to see your eyes.
And Ira, as if she knows, does it so sweetly in its brevity, that Tawan almost gives in and makes the desperate dash to jump on stage and catch her.
"I think you're absolutely right, Khun Ira, absolutely." Pompam draws another round of applause, smiling at her. "To conclude this brilliant evening of ours, then, my dear, is there anything else you'd like to say to your fans and the world watching us? The stage is all yours now."
Breathe, Ira.
Don't you dare stop breathing.
Tawan is the one who stops breathing when Ira rises from her chair and scans the room with a bittersweet gaze. She seems to look into everyone's eyes, first the host, then her friends, then the journalists and photographers, then each of the attentive and eager fans. Finally, after a while, she locks her eyes with Tawan once more, a tender smile on the perfect curve of her lips.
"To my fans here and out there, I encourage you to be yourself. Be authentic and brave, but also patient. Life can be tough, and being different can make it even tougher, and sometimes it may feel like you can't hold it all together in your hands."
There are tears at the edges of Ira's eyelids, but Tawan knows that no one else will be able to see it but her, and Ira won't let them fall yet. She takes another step forward, as if to be closer, some light covering part of her face, Ira tilting her head from the stage gently.
"But if you look carefully enough, maybe even if you're lucky enough..." Ira keeps going, breathing. "There's always someone there. Sometimes in the deepest corner of your heart, sometimes right next to you holding your hand. And if there isn't someone yet, you'll find them, and they'll change everything, and life will become a little easier for you and for them."
Everything goes silent as Ira speaks. Tawan herself is no longer sure if her heart is beating or bursting out of her rib cage. Ira never stops looking at her. Ira never loses herself in a dazed and dumbfounded crowd. She’s right there, with her.
"So..." Ira finally laughs softly and watery, nodding confidently. "You guys stay strong. Keep singing. And remember that it's not your duty to change the world, but that there are small, subtle changes, the ones that start when we choose ourselves, despite everything that could go wrong, that are possible, that are reachable, and that are worth trying and fighting for."
The crowd of fans echoes in cries and shouts and applause throughout the auditorium, all of them rising from their seats in a chorus of thanks and tears, some gratitude and pride for their idol written all over their moved faces. Ira's friends cheer proudly and the journalists and photographers quickly start moving, taking pictures and shouting questions, but Ira just smiles graciously and starts walking off the stage after a grateful nod at the host.
"Khun Ira, everyone!" Pompam waves a reverent arm in her direction as she walks off, joining in the chorus of applause, Ira waving and blowing brief kisses to the fans, disappearing from view and leaving Diversity and Suzie to deal with the countless questions and compliments and Tawan's agents to keep photographers from climbing onto the stage after her.
For now there is only one place she needs to be.
They had arranged to meet after the interview in Sam's private conference room, and Ira doesn't waste a second, leaving the auditorium and running through labyrinthine hallways, an euphoria after all the restraint taking over her every move.
Through the opposite exit above the stairs, Tawan finds the same rush, almost a kind of desperation, of having Ira close to her again after all she’s accomplished tonight, never backing away, never losing sight of Tawan in the darkness around her. She doesn’t run, but her footsteps carry through the building with a renewed, unstoppable force, the longing to find and touch and hold stronger than ever over her.
The barrage of emotions spills over Ira's senses as she runs. A part of her insists that she doesn't know what Tawan is thinking, whether she's pleased or disappointed, whether she thinks her decision has made things worse for them, whether she's exposed herself to the world even though she tried not to.
But another part, great and strong, precious as all else, knows that all her doubts are in vain. It was a look, precisely, the look on Tawan's face that she caught briefly as she left the stage.
The same look she had when Ira, on the rooftop of the company building, long ago, confessed her love for the bodyguard. A tender and frightened look, reverberating a reciprocated love, a chance to be and to belong, a glimpse of surrender.
When she sees the doors in the distance, Ira nearly trips over her own feet, storming into the room in gasps, nearly falling from the impact of the door opening under her miscalculated force. But before she can even feel the chill of her impending fall, her cheek collides softly with solid structure, a familiar scent invading, her arms instinctively curling around where she hit.
Ira then realizes, in warm, form and recognition, that it happens to be Tawan's body. As if inevitable, for a moment she considers staying that way, tied to her, letting the events of the last few hours settle in to remind her of what matters most, but she immediately feels the tension in the bodyguard's muscles, causing her to straighten and shyly take a step back, nervously rolling her fingers together, hesitating.
Tawan just breathes loudly, her back turned.
"P'Tawan..." Ira sinks into the possibility that she did everything wrong, her voice fragile, whispered. “Did I overstep? Are you mad?”
And Ira could expect anything, a reprimand, a melancholy, a warning, or even a positive reaction, a compliment, a silly thumbs-up, a reassurance that they’re going to be fine, anything but what she finds when Tawan finally turns to face her.
Eyes wide and swollen, fresh traces of tears, the tip of Tawan’s nose reddened. This lost gaze breaks Ira’s heart immediately, but she can’t even think of asking for any kind of forgiveness for whatever wrong she may have done, because Tawan sighs and pulls her back with overwhelming force, crashing their lips together at last. Ira gives in surrendering, whimpering into her mouth, wrapping her arms around the bodyguard’s neck who can’t seem to get close enough to her, the searing kiss sending her thoughts into a dizzying spiral.
That’s it.
This is what Ira has longed for since she stepped into that auditorium, to run back into Tawan's arms and feel how much she wants this, wants her, how much neither of them can help it, they never could, and there is no force or wickedness or threat in this world that can tear her away from Tawan now that she has found her, now that she has her and given herself to her so completely.
“N’Ira...” Tawan doesn’t get far, panting harshly against her lips, Ira barely able to open her eyes to follow. “You’re so brave. You’re so beautiful. You’re so strong, everything you are”.
“Tee rak...” Ira pants back, eyelids fluttering, her hands reaching for the bodyguard's sharp shoulders.
“You were brilliant down there.” Tawan craddles her face and Ira finally looks at her, finding a dazzled, proud smile, a new one, one more to make her heart wild. “Whatever makes you so brave, there’s nothing to compare. All I can wish is to live up to it, to be worthy of you.”
Ira shakes her head no and buries her fingers in Tawan’s hair, bringing her impossibly closer. “You already are. You have been since the night we met.”
Tawan dives in for another unhurried and yet rampant kiss, feeling how Ira delightfully arches into her arms, hands in her hair and on the back of her neck, both of them falling freely out of the nothingness of the whole world apart from them, and Ira can feel in the outline how Tawan is trying not to smile, the gesture making her heart grow tenfold, barely able to fit inside her anymore, the certainty firmly established that this is exactly where they belong together.
When there is no more air or sense, heads spinning around, their foreheads lean together in the near silence of breathing and exhaling until the atmosphere settles back into place, Tawan's arms tight around Ira's waist and Ira's hands slowly caressing Tawan's jaw. They remain in the suspended infinity, until exhaustion overtakes Ira and her head falls onto Tawan's chest, a last melodious gasp escaping her lips and making Tawan hold her tighter.
“Everything’s about to change, isn’t it?” Ira murmurs muffledly into Tawan’s chest. “They’ll search more, speculate more. They know where to look now.”
With a strong yet gentle hand, Tawan persuades her to meet her eyes, lightly stroking her cheekbone and behind her ear, fixing stray strands of gray-gold hair.
In a heartbeat, she is anything but wary.
“Let them.” Tawan firms, and Ira’s eyes widen, instinctively pressing herself closer into her embrace. “Let them search and let them find us. Let them know that you’re mine and I’m yours, because they have nothing on us.”
Then, at last, finally in the ultimate restraint, through Tawan's sure and whole words, those held back tears, the ones she refused to shed on stage, shine in Ira's beautiful eyes and run down her eyelids as she nods profusely, the weight of all the things said catching up with her, no regrets, no fears, no back downs, just the inherent anguish of the truth and daring existing without letting anyone control the narrative of who she is or who she chooses to love, no matter what she might lose to be free.
Because through and beyond it all, here she is, Tawan, the one who is always there.
Once only in the deepest corner of her heart, now right next to her holding her hand.
She found her, they found each other.
And life, even without sparing them from fear and failure, from questioning and crying, from asking for love Where love will never be denied, seems to become a little easier.