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The other half of the bed was empty when Tol opened his eyes on his pillow. The raging headache had woke him up earlier than a typical Saturday.
As for how he got home last night, he could only recall fragments. Somebody definitely dropped him off, most likely a colleague who stayed sober. The last thing he remembered was Tin helping him into comfy pajamas from that tight-fitting suit. He might have uttered something stupid as well. Not that Tin would mind, but that thought still hit Tol like a wave of belated embarrassment and remorse. Tol shuddered, covering his face with his palms, just as Tin walked in.
Tin set down the mug of warm milk on the nightstand.
"I am sorry, p'Tin." Tol blurted out before Tin said anything.
"It's okay, I know you would do the responsible thing." Tin's smile did not reach his eyes. He gave a gentle tap to Tol's shoulder. "How are you feeling?"
Tol stared at the dark circles around the doctor's eyes. "You barely slept."
"That wasn't your fault, Tol." Tin answered him with the kind of sympathy that made Tol slightly unnerved. "I just wanted to make sure that you were alright."
They had talked about this before. Tin never forbade him from drinking, but Tol knew -- from the tragedy of his sister to all the loops where he thought Tol was a reckless drunk driver who deserved everything. Tin didn't talk about his flashbacks often, but Tol knew he had them. They both did.
This is no fun.
Tol used to love a good party deep into the night, but doing the exact same thing for work totally ruined anything. The same glass of high-brow whiskey now just tasted like the awkwardness of doing as everybody else did, and pretending to love it too. He let out a deep breath.
"P'Tin...I never wanted to hurt your feelings, doing something I don't even enjoy." sitting up on the bed, he looked into Tin's eyes: "Knowing that even the smell of alcohol makes you anxious. I am sorry."
"My preferences aside," Tin's voice softened after a pause, "do you have to drink if you don't even like it?"
"...I dunno. We were there to keep the client's company." Tol's answer tailed off, "Plus, that's how the new hires fit in, isn't that what people say?"
Tin looked at him somewhat curiously. "Well, I never needed to do that. I cannot speak for the world of business, though."
Tol cupped his hands around the warm mug. Honeyed milk never tasted so good.
"When dad comes home late from those dinner parties reeking of alcohol, mom never liked it. I didn't either." sipping from the mug, Tol muttered before sighing like a disgruntled old man: "Is this how it is to be a grown-up, eventually doing the things you used to hate?"
Now Tin smiled at him, somewhat contemplatively. "Not necessarily."
"How did you decide to become a doctor, p'Tin?" Tol shifted. It occurred to him that he had not asked this before.
Tin didn't expect this question either. He thought hard for a moment. "Hmm... you know that my sister was an architect. As far as the family stereotype goes, I could have become an engineer. Or a lawyer, even."
"I can easily see that." Tol chortled. "But you chose medical school."
"The idea was simple. Saving lives."
"And you've done plenty of that."
They held the silence between them for a moment, before Tin continued. "Of course, being an actual doctor for ER is very different from what I imagined as a kid, but I don't regret it. Well, most of the days."
"Not everyone can say that, I'm sure." Tol said quietly.
"Indeed. Med school itself always has the highest drop-out rate already. In fact, you've just reminded me..." said Tin with a slight chuckle, "One of my seniors from back then is now a Michelin chef."
"Wow!"
"It's actually a chicken rice stall passed down from his family, the one on all the tourist maps." Tin explained calmly, "You might have heard of it."
"Oh! I know the one you're talking about." Tol exclaimed, excited to make the connection. "But I've never gotten to try it, there's always a massive queue."
Tin contemplated briefly, then glanced at the time. "If we leave right now, we might still have a chance before they run out. I haven't visited him for a long while."
The humble stall, tucked away in a quiet alley off one of the busiest streets, took some walking from the nearest parking space. But it was impossible to miss: on a Saturday, the queue of visitors and locals alike was overflowing.
"We'll be starving by the end -- I hope they don't run out by then!" Tol mumbled as they joined the end of the haphazard line.
To his relief, the line moved forward at an impressive speed. A few minutes of casual people-watching already brought them close enough to the aroma from the pot, along with the most concise directions possible in English.
"Small 60 baht, big 100 baht!!" The stout lady standing at the front was practically yelling. The group of visitors from all continents, though flustered, made their choices with due efficiency. "Wait there, okay." she took the cash before cheering with renewed energy, "Next!!"
"That's his aunt." Tin whispered, "She had always been pricklier than Dr. Sing, quite the tough business woman."
Tol giggled quietly at the allusion. It was their turn to get yelled at in no time. The chef behind the stall was busy scooping a fresh batch of glistering whole chickens from the gigantic cauldron. He promptly ripped off his mask as Tin gave a little wave.
"Oi, Tin!! You should have told me!!"
"Getting in the queue is part of the experience, p'Ted." Tin grinned broadly. "This is my fiancé, Tol."
Ted nodded, with a smirk that clearly said you lucky bastard. "A romantic date at my place? Let me pick the best cut for you, on the house."
"I know you would do that, p'Ted." Tin smiled as Tol handed over the sizable pastel paper bag, "Here, we brought cheesecake from your old favorite place."
"Eh, Tin, you shouldn't have. Thank you, Tol." As they spoke, Ted had already chopped up a plateful of boneless tender meat and piled on extra sauce on the side. "Enjoy! Next!!"
Holding the plastic plates in their hands, they managed to find a cleanish curb-side table. In the less-than-romantic setting, Tol had an epiphany between flavorful bites.
"So... if you're really good at what you do at a fair price, you can even yell at your clients." he chewed thoughtfully, "Is this chicken rice with morals, p'Tin?"
"...What morals?" Tin blinked with genuine confusion as he dipped his fork into the ginger sauce. "I had no idea p'Ted could run the business like that. He used to be quite timid back in med school, to be honest."
Tol lifted another spoonful of broth-infused grains without further inquiries. "Ah, this is to die for. I don't mind a little yelling."
"Daddy will be home soon, Seudan. Hopefully."
Tin casually talked to the cat before picking up a book. Zebra promptly joined him on the sofa.
Just another Friday evening where Tol was at one of those business receptions. Truth be told, Tin didn't mind having the whole house and both cats to himself once in a while. He had barely finished a chapter when the familiar sound of Tol's car came through the garage. Tin raised an eyebrow in surprise. Tol entered, visibly sober and proud of it, to give Seudan a good rub.
"The curry in the pot should still be warm." Tin kept his eyes on the pages. "You might want to pop the rice in the microwave though."
"Ahhh I'm starving!" Tol hurried to the stove before even changing out of his dress shirt. "You know they never serve real food at those cocktail parties. Did you eat already, p'Tin?"
"I did, but I can use a bit more."
They sat down at the dinner table, both covered in cat hair.
"I got away without drinking a single drop today, p'Tin." Tol lifted his puppy eyes.
"Hmm?" Tin pretended not to notice, suppressing a smile. "What did you do?"
"Stick to juice. An overpriced glass of coconut-pineapple mix that I didn't pay for, at least."
"I've enjoyed a decent piña colada before." now Tin was smiling fondly. "Did your clients say anything?"
"I said that my new medication prohibits drinking." Tol sounded rather smug, "Everyone was quite understanding. The clients even shared some stories from their family members with various conditions."
Tin nodded, the tenderness in his eyes slowing turning into a doctor's austerity.
"You do have a bit of a heart condition, Nong, should you ever need a doctor's note for it."
Tol took a sip of water, and lifted his gaze with a matching sort of seriousness.
"Right. And my heart condition is only for one particular doctor, too."
END