Work Text:
Duang has a bad habit of neglecting his apartment for days before suddenly getting a random shock of motivation to turn the place upside down. Literally. He kicks his bed frame to its side to reveal the devastating state under his bed, he takes out every article of clothing from the closet to neatly arrange them by colors, then he finds better ways to arrange his books or trinkets in his big shelves before deep cleaning his kitchen as he does the laundry.
It’s horrible, but it works for him. It doesn’t matter if the urge strikes at the ass crack of dawn—it doesn’t matter if the urge strikes when he’s not even anywhere near his apartment. When it comes, it happens.
That’s why Duang finds himself lying on his newly changed sheets, spotless and clean, after showering at three in the morning. His room is devoid of dust that his lungs clear up when he breathes. Inhale. Exhale. It’s one thing done right. Maybe in the morning, Duang can feel like starting something new or trying again. But tonight, he settles for the comfort of his newly cleaned room.
The strange doesn’t end with Duang’s random surge of changing his life at dawn. Instead, his phone vibrates against the wooden material of his side table, and he double takes before answering.
Qin is calling. Qin is calling? Duang barely had time to process when the phone slipped. “Fuck,” he cursed. You’re not exactly the best version of you when you’re running low on adrenaline and are sleep deprived. “Qin?”
“You answered.”
Duang isn’t exactly sure how to respond to that. “You called.” He hears shuffling and breathing—not exactly harsh, but Qin doesn’t try to be subtle either. There’s the sound of cars driving by in the background and the sound of plastic hitting the back of Qin’s phone. “Where are you?” he finally asked, growing impatient when Qin refused to speak further.
“Out.” Qin is a man of very few words. Duang used to think it's cute, but now it fills him with so much frustration, he almost dropped the call entirely.
“Where —”
“Come down. I can’t enter your complex without a key card, remember?”
Duang wants to play stupid and ask him why, just to get a semblance of control over the situation at hand. But his hold is weak and vulnerable against his own sick desire to see Qin again. Duang loves Qin so much that he can pretend like nothing’s hurting. He loves Qin so much that his knees weaken over the sight of Qin waiting for him by the entrance, following him to the elevator, and slipping inside his apartment without hesitation. It’s pathetic.
Qin is many things, but he’s definitely not oblivious. Duang doesn’t know why Qin is looking past the obvious problem between the two of them when they barely spoke at all this week.
“Are you just gonna stand there?”
Duang doesn’t like the way Qin talks to him. Rude and arrogant. It’s as if Qin didn’t show up unannounced at god knows what time it is right now. “Don’t use that tone with me,” Duang sighs in his speech. The fatigue is getting to him, but he feels rather ill beyond any physical aspect.
Qin stiffens when Duang walks right past him in the hall. “Duang,” he calls. “You won’t even look at me?”
“I’m tired, Qin. It’s almost five.”
“Five?” Qin scrambles for his words, the tough persona crumbling as he speaks. “I didn’t know.”
It only confuses Duang more. “It’s okay. Just… take the bed. I’ll take the couch.”
Duang’s resignation from the conversation and from Qin’s presence alone must have been the tipping point. Not long after he gathered new blankets for the couch, Qin held the cuffs of his sweater, demanding the attention Duang refused to give. “Are you seriously going to keep acting this way? I’m trying here, Duang, but if you won’t let me, how am I supposed to make it right?”
“This is you ‘trying’?” It came out as a whisper when Duang’s voice seemed to have fallen asleep. “Is it when you let me walk away? Or is it now, when you’re coming over because nobody can see?”
“Duang —”
“You never even apologized,” Duang said in finality. He frees himself from Qin’s hold, in more ways than one, and tries to hide from the world outside the sheets.
It’s both a blessing and a curse that humans can feel the stare of another individual, because Duang would rather not know Qin’s piercing gaze through the thick cotton separating them. Inhale. Exhale. Qin’s trembling lips, glassy eyes, and heaving chest keep flashing in his mind. He hates seeing Qin cry, but can’t he be entitled to even be just a little upset about his boyfriend? Duang has come to terms that Qin can never meet him halfway—it just never occurred to him that Qin can be so cruel.
“Duang, please.”
“Please, Qin. Let’s talk later.”
Qin doesn’t listen. Instead, he squeezes himself in the tiny space between Duang and the backrest of the couch with a strong determination to invade his boyfriend’s hiding spot. It’s easy in theory, but application is a lot more challenging when it’s not meant to hold two grown men side-by-side like this.
“Qin, what the fuck!” Duang made the mistake of popping his head out of the blanket, because Qin took the opportunity to push half of it down his stomach. Suddenly, Duang is locked in a tight hold with Qin’s hands latching on his exposed skin, and head pressed against his nearest clavicle. It’s not the most comfortable, but Qin skillfully managed to fully wrap himself around Duang like an octopus attached to a log. “This is ridiculous. I can barely move —”
“I’m sorry,” Qin blurted out. “I’ve been a bad bad boyfriend. I don’t deserve you, but I’ll fucking die if you leave me —”
“Qin, do it properly.”
“Baby, I’m sorry. It was wrong for me to make you feel used, and it was wrong for me to treat you like you’re not the most important person in my life.” Qin swallows from rugged breaths and choking words. “I’m sorry for making you feel like you’re not all I think about every morning and every night. I pray that you appear in my dreams. I wait for the next time I see you as soon as we part. I- I want you in every way I fantasize.” He breathes. In. “Duang, I’m sorry that I’m stupid enough to make you feel like I don’t love you, when loving you is all I know.” Out.
Inhale.
Exhale.
“Was that difficult?” Duang asked. He escapes from Qin’s hold, despite his protest, and turns to face him. “Apologizing—is it hard to do?”
Qin’s lips drew a trembling frown. Unable to speak, he shakes his head.
“Don’t cry. Duang hates it when you cry.”
Qin is reduced to sobs, whines, and nods. He really doesn’t listen. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Please, don’t leave me.”
“Hm. It’s okay. It’s okay.”
“I’m sorry for coming over so early. I really —” He sobs. “I really didn’t know what time it was. I got here as soon as class ended, and I was so scared to call you,” he tells Duang everything, like a child to a parent.
“Scared, why?” Duang finally allows himself to coddle the mess that is Qin, when he’s falling apart in his arms.
“Thought you don’t want me anymore.”
This is a new side of Qin that he’s never seen before. “Oh, baby,” he coos.
Qin is a lot more sensitive than he lets on—a lot more terrified and vulnerable. Duang is starting to understand that Qin loves him more than he knows, and that alone must have made Qin believe that a fight can be so detrimental to their young relationship. “Teach me, Duang. Tell me all the ways to make it better.”
Duang has a horrible habit of finding Qin adorable in the most unexpected scenario. He wipes his boyfriend’s sweat, arranges his hair off his eyes, dries his tears with his sleeves, and kisses his wet trembling lips in pure, earnest adoration. Then he also finds it cute when Qin eagerly kisses back, pushes him down to climb on top, and holds his wrist tightly for security.
Just apologize, Qin. I’ll always come running back to you.