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Kim had sent him the address of a café in a part of Bangkok he had never been to before. Especially because Porchay could never afford anything in that area anyway. Still, he had agreed without hesitation, scraping together half of next week’s grocery money and every last baht he could find. If he was lucky, it would be enough for a tea and a coffee. Porchay didn’t expect Kim to pay for him. Never. More than anything, he hoped he could be the one to treat his… friend for once.
The bus ride to get there had taken nearly an hour. By the time he finally arrived in front of the café, he was so nervous his palms were sweating, and he kept wiping them on his jeans. People in the trendiest outfits walked past him, too cool to give him even a glance, while he stared admiringly at their clothes. All those big designer brands had already passed him by, and Porchay, in his best (of course no-name) shirt, his newest jeans, and his fake Chucks, felt so completely out of place that he would have left long ago if it hadn’t been Kim he was waiting for.
For probably the fifth time in a row, Porchay checked his phone. They were supposed to meet at 5 PM. It was already quarter past, and Kim was still nowhere to be seen. Just as he was about to shove the phone back into his pocket, a message popped up.
‘Sorry running late go on in, order whatver you want I’ll need another 10 minutes.’
The message had clearly been typed in a rush, no punctuation, one word misspelled. Or could it be possible that Kim had actually written it while driving? Porchay hoped not. He didn’t want Kim risking his soundness because of him.
Although the message said otherwise, Porchay considered waiting the ten minutes outside anyway. But Kim had told him to go in. To order something. Porchay wrestled with himself for another minute before he decided to follow Kim’s suggestion. A little part of him quietly lit up, happy to be told what to do.
From the outside, Porchay hadn’t been able to guess what awaited him inside. The warm light, wooden textures, and countless plants hanging in woven baskets from the ceiling, next to glowing bulbs on thick ropes, gave the place a cozy, floating feel. The walls were plain concrete, decorated with emerald green, diamond-shaped tiles that looked like marble, arranged in geometric patterns with golden frames. Tables and benches were made of warm wood planks, supported by black metal frames. But the most striking part were the seating areas installed like a second level. Built from the same warm wood and black metal, many small, separated booths hovered above the main floor, accessible only by staggered wooden planks, something between stairs and a ladder. Porchay wondered how anyone was supposed to carry drinks up there safely.
Yet the seating on that gallery level looked so cozy and private from below that Porchay couldn’t resist choosing the little table in the farthest back corner, which, luckily, was still free. That particular ascent seemed a bit safer, with a black metal pole to hold onto on one side.
Since the café was quite busy and Porchay definitely didn’t want to lose the perfect spot, he confidently made his way through the room and climbed the adventurous near-stairway.
In the small, wooden-walled booth, there was just enough space for two benches and a table. A simple but lovely flower arrangement sat in the middle. Soft cushions made the hard benches more comfortable. From up here, Porchay had a perfect view of the entrance so he wouldn't miss Kim when he arrived.
Porchay had just leaned his backpack against the concrete wall when he noticed the little sign on the table: Self-Service.
The fact that the café was self-service almost made him reconsider. Almost. For the perfect date with Kim, he’d find a way to carry cups or glasses up there somehow.
From his spot, Porchay could see the large chalkboards above the bar. Written in bold, elegant script were the drink names and prices. There was tea in endless varieties, all kinds of coffee specialties, homemade lemonades, fancy organic cocktails, sandwiches, cakes, cookies. The prices weren’t quite as astronomical as Porchay had feared.
Holding his wallet tightly, he waited for a gap when no one else was ordering. When he climbed back down and reached the bar, he was up next right away.
Of course Porchay knew that Kim liked his coffee black. Not sweet and milky like Porchay used to have his.
“Hey, have you decided yet?”
“Yes. One Americano and one milk coffee, please. Lots of milk, if possible. Do you have coconut milk? That’d be great!” If Porchay was going to splurge, then properly.
“Of course! Coconut latte’s on the menu.”
“Perfect, I’d like to have one, thanks!”
The price was honestly intimidating, Porchay probably should’ve gone with the Americano too. But today was special. Another date with Kim. At least Porchay considered it a date. He wasn’t entirely sure how Kim thought of it. They’d been meeting for a few weeks now, ever since they had met at Kim’s university’s freshman event. Kim had performed there as WIK. WIK, whom Porchay had admired for so long.
First, Kim had offered him guitar lessons. Then they’d met at the studio where Kim practiced. Then they’d talked about an ice cream stand near campus and met there a few days later. During a walk, Porchay had mentioned the banana sticky rice he sometimes bought on the way to school. So next time, they’d gotten a snack there before their lesson. And so on, and so on.
Porchay had to admit, his idolization had turned into a serious crush pretty quickly.
And now, Kim had suggested a meeting at this café. In the early evening. No lesson in sight.
A real, actual date.
“Sure thing, coming right up. That’ll be 260 baht, please.”
Porchay paid, nevertheless happy that he was able to treat Kim, and had to wait a moment for the drinks. In the meantime, he studied the wall covered with photos like wallpaper, stretching all the way up to the gallery seating. Images of beaches and palm trees, beauty shots, buildings, sunsets, bicycles, market stalls.
“Americano and coconut latte?” the barista called his order.
One large coffee cup and one tall glass. How on earth was Porchay supposed to get both up that strange, narrow, steep staircase?
He stopped in front of the first step and, stretching slightly, placed the drinks on the floor of the upper level. Proud of his clever solution, he climbed up. Easier than expected.
Once at the top, he arranged everything on the table, sat down on the bench next to his backpack, shifted around to get comfortable, and looked toward the door.
No Kim.
Surely, ten minutes had passed by now?
Porchay checked the time. Yes. Fourteen minutes had already gone by.
Would it be rude to try his coffee already? Kim had said he should go ahead and order. Was it silly to have ordered one for Kim, too? What if he was much later and the Americano went cold?
So stupid, stupid, stupid.
Another three minutes passed, during which Porchay checked his phone five more times and stared at the door. And maybe tasted the foam from his latte a little. Added some sugar. Tasted again. And added more sugar.
Kim wouldn’t stand him up. He never had. He’d been late before, but never a no-show. And if he did cancel, he always let Porchay know way in advance.
Two more minutes later, the entrance door opened and finally, finally, Kim walked in. Though ‘walk’ was putting it mildly. The door practically burst open, and Kim rushed in, looking unusually flustered. He scanned the room, prompting Porchay to jump up, squeak out an overly enthusiastic “P’Kim!” and, because that wasn’t awkward enough, start waving excitedly.
But it worked. Kim looked up and spotted him. Instantly, some of the tension in Kim’s body seemed to melt. He visibly relaxed, and a smile spread across his face.
‘Chay,’ Kim mouthed. ‘Hey!’ Porchay was able to read every word from those beautiful lips.
Grinning, he flopped back onto his bench and watched Kim’s every step as he approached the stacked planks that dared to call themselves stairs.
Kim hesitated a second, looked up at Porchay in mild despair, then shrugged and climbed up with such smooth grace that Porchay wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d turned into a cat halfway up.
“I should’ve known you’d pick one of these lookout spots,” Kim greeted him with a grin and plopped down on the bench across from Porchay. “You have no idea how evil those steps feel when you’ve been tricked by the ‘organic’ in those cocktails.”
“You thought the cocktails were healthy and less boozy just because it said ‘organic’?”
“I thought it meant fancy lemonades with a shot. Turns out - they’re not.”
“So what are they?”
“Insanely creative. Probably totally fair trade and organic, but above all, very strong.”
“Or maybe you just don’t drink often, P’Kim.”
Kim raised a skeptical eyebrow and shrugged off his leather jacket. Underneath, he wore a plain white T-shirt with the sleeves rolled up. “Unlikely.”
“So you go out drinking a lot?”
That coaxed a little laugh out of Kim. “More like, my family has an interesting relationship with whiskey.”
Kim rarely shared anything about himself. Especially not about his family. And now the first thing Porchay learned about them was that they had a whiskey habit.
“That one’s for me?” Kim pointed at the thankfully still steaming Americano.
“Yeah, I hope I got it right?”
“Plain black, just the way I like it. Thanks, Chay.” Kim hadn’t stopped smiling since he arrived. Porchay practically basked in the sight and even more in those words.
“My pleasure, P’Kim,” Porchay squeaked.
“And what did you get?”
“Coconut latte.”
“Sounds good. Mind if I try?”
With every meeting, Kim had grown more relaxed around him, Porchay had noticed that. But today, today felt different. Kim seemed genuinely happy. Open. And now he even wanted to try Porchay’s drink. WIK’s lips would touch the same glass as his. Porchay could barely believe it.
“Of course, P’Kim!” he chirped, wondering how many embarrassing sounds he’d make before the evening was over.
If Kim minded, he didn’t show it. On the contrary, he beamed at Porchay as if two suns had risen behind him, then pulled the milky drink toward himself. He took a sip and immediately made a face, not disgusted, but a crooked grin, furrowed brow, and a look in his eyes that said loud and clear: ‘Are you serious?’
“How much sugar did you dump in this?”
“Not that much?” Porchay replied, uncertain, snatching his glass back. “Mine.”
“Oh yeah, cutie pie, you can keep all of that,” Kim laughed and took a big sip of his probably bitter Americano to balance it out.
Porchay pouted, cupped his glass with both hands, locked eyes with Kim, and didn’t look away as he slowly sipped from the rim.
Kim set his cup down, held Porchay’s gaze, grinned, and gave a small shake of his lowered head. “You’re just too sweet.”
Porchay beamed like a kid at Christmas as he set down his glass and licked the foam off his lips.
“Way too sweet for me,” Kim added, and for a brief moment, Porchay thought he saw regret flicker across his face. But if it had been there, Kim quickly replaced it with another bright smile.
“But isn’t that perfect? Together we’re bittersweet.” As soon as the words left his mouth, Porchay wanted to melt into the floor. What was that?!
But Kim didn’t seem to mind at all. If anything, his eyes sparkled even more. “That’s strikingly accurate. Bittersweet. I should write a song about it. Right after I cover ‘Too Sweet’ by Hozier and put your face on the cover.”
If Porchay hadn’t been blushing before, he sure was now. Fire-red. Tomato-red. Maybe as red as the neon sign above him that made his skin glow anyway.
“Oh yes, please do that. I’d love to hear that song from you.”
“Of course you would, wouldn’t you?” Kim leaned slightly across the table and brushed a bit of coconut milk foam from Porchay’s lip with his thumb. Slowly, he brought his finger to his own mouth and licked it clean.
Porchay thought he might choke, his heart started pounding so fast, his breathing just stopped. Embarrassed, he looked away. Knowing himself, he’d end up with a painfully urgent problem in his lower half if he looked at Kim’s outrageous beauty even a second longer.
Luckily, Kim always had a way of pulling Porchay back to the living by simply changing the subject and talking happily. He told Porchay about his day, about the song he was recording, and a funny thing that had happened at uni. Porchay laughed in all the right places, relieved, clutching his spoon and stirring his drink nonstop to keep his hands busy.
Then he talked just as casually about his own school day. When he started describing the bus ride, Kim interrupted: “An hour? On the bus? You should’ve said something. I could’ve picked you up.”
Porchay waved it off immediately. “No, P’Kim, I know how busy you are. I really don’t mind. I promise!”
“Well, I do. I’m driving you home later.” A statement. Not a question.
“O… okay.” Porchay blushed again, though he’d just managed to get his face back to a normal color.
“So, now that you know you’ll get home safe tonight, would you like to try one of these cocktails after you finish your sugar fairy drink?”
Porchay replied before thinking: “Trying to get me drunk, P’Kim? Maybe I can handle alcohol better than you.”
Kim laughed. “Somehow I really doubt that. And no, not to get you drunk. At least not like you think. I just want to redeem my own shame by watching someone else tumble down those steps. You know, balance the humiliation a little.”
“Oh, P’Kim, that’s pure evil.”
“Never said there’s no evil in me.” Somehow, Kim looked just a little too serious when he said that. Serious and again so… regretful. He turned his head to the side and stared at the bar, his lips pressed into a thin line.
“Whatever,” Porchay said quickly. “I like all sides of you!”
That brought Kim’s smile back. He looked at Porchay almost pityingly as he turned back toward him. “Okay. Good to know.”
“So,” Porchay said, determined to chase away the tension that had crept in, “which one of the cocktails would you recommend?”
“Hm. Depends on what you like. Something sweet, I suppose?”
“Not necessarily.”
“What kinds have you had before?”
“Uhm… I… well… Porsche let me try a beer once...” And the blush was back on Porchay’s cheeks. Of course Kim knew he was technically still underage and not supposed to drink at all.
“Ah, right... See? Pure evil. Corrupting minors into drinking alcohol.” Kim tried to look serious, but clearly didn’t succeed. It was obvious he didn’t take the underage drinking thing too seriously.
“I see at least three other minors here being corrupted into drinking by their dates. You’re in good company, P’Kim. And I don’t think that’s something pure evil would even consider a valid method.”
“Touché.”
Everything was always so easy with Kim. No long debates. No dancing around pointless details no one really cared about. Porchay was eighteen. What was one cocktail? In other countries, people were fully legal at that age, including drinking in public.
“So, wanna stay with coconut? Then I’d recommend the Coconut & Kaffir Lime Mojito. I tried it from a friend…” A small flash of jealousy shot through Porchay. “... and it was sweet and citrusy and a bit minty. I think you’d like it.”
“Okay, I’ll take that one. I trust you, P’Kim.”
“Perfect,” Kim muttered as if trusting him was the worst idea possible and got up. “Hang on, I’ll get the drinks. Are you done with this? I’ll take the glasses with me.”
Of course Kim was able to climb down the steep steps gracefully while carrying something in both hands. Porchay watched him, open-mouthed. Cat-like. Unbelievable.
While Kim waited in line at the bar, the café had gotten quite crowded over the past hour, Porchay watched him from his little post. How he placed the used glasses in the tray, slid through a group of students like it was nothing. Someone seemed to recognize him. Or know him. Either way, Kim spoke briefly with a young guy, smiled charmingly, waved something off, and then pointed up toward Porchay. The guy followed Kim’s gaze and grinned. Porchay hid behind his phone.
An eternity later, Kim finally received their drinks and came grinning back. Porchay was sure he’d set the glasses down on the ledge like Porchay had done before climbing, but no. Without any issue, and with almost superhuman balance, Kim made it up the steps and placed the two beautifully decorated long drinks in the center of the table.
“How?” Porchay asked in disbelief. “Are you a ninja or something?”
Kim just grinned and tilted his head. “Maybe.”
“Wow, P’Kim, that was impressive.”
“Yeah, wouldn’t work as well on the second round, believe me.”
For a second, Porchay wondered how Kim planned to drive him home if he was drinking too, but then he let the thought go.
They clinked glasses with wide grins, and Porchay was more than aware of Kim’s watchful gaze as he took the first sip through his straw. Surprised, he sipped again. He could barely taste the alcohol. The drink was delicious, coconut and sugar and lemon and mint, and just the faintest trace of alcohol, like in a fancy chocolate.
“P’Kim, these aren’t even that strong,” Porchay giggled, sure that Kim had just teased him earlier.
“That’s exactly the problem, Chay. You can’t taste the alcohol, and then it sneaks up on you, brewing even more of it with all the sugar it’s hiding in.”
“What? That’s a thing?”
“Oh yeah…”
Porchay took another big sip. Kim raised an eyebrow and shrugged, as if to say ‘Make your own mistakes’.
“Can I try yours?” That was something you’re doing, right? Trying each other’s drinks? He hadn’t asked to try the Americano, that would’ve been silly. But the dark brown drink with the orange twist on the rim seemed fair game. Porchay had never seen one like this. These kinds of drinks definitely weren’t on the menu at Yok’s Bar.
“Sure. But I don’t think you’re gonna like it.” Smiling, Kim slid his glass toward Porchay.
“Careful,” he warned as Porchay took it and brought it to his mouth.
Luckily, Porchay had listened and only taken a tiny sip. A strong, bitter alcoholic taste hit his tongue, mixed with the familiar spicy flavor of chai tea and a hint of orange. Porchay tried to keep a neutral expression and failed. He scrunched up his nose and coughed.
“That... That’s awful, P’Kim!”
Kim laughed heartily. Loud and carefree, actually so loud, that a few other guests turned their heads to look up at them. “Oh, angel, I know,” Kim giggled, still catching his breath.
Porchay froze. Kim had never called him anything but his name before. Well, the short form of his name, but still. That nickname had rolled off Kim’s tongue so naturally, it echoed in Porchay’s ears, pushed its way into his brain, and decided to stay there.
At least Kim was still laughing. Hopefully, he hadn’t noticed Porchay’s brief freeze. Not fully in control of his own voice, Porchay stammered: “But then why are you having it?”
“Because it gets better the more you drink it,” Kim said casually and shrugged.
“And what is the name of this evil stuff?” Finally, Porchay had the brilliant idea to drown the bitterness with his sweet coconut drink.
“A Spiced Chai Negroni. Alcohol mixed with alcohol and a bit of flavor.”
“Awful,” Porchay muttered again.
“Definitely not beginner-friendly, no,” Kim admitted, taking another sip without flinching.
“And you like that?”
“Obviously?”
“Right, dumb question,” Porchay giggled and played with the straw in his mouth.
Being near Kim had never felt this easy before. Like breathing. As if they were meant to be together in this exact place at this exact time.
They talked about all kinds of things while Porchay’s drink gradually disappeared. At some point, he didn’t even feel Kim’s eyes on him that much anymore, though they were still watching him closely the entire time.
Kim had just said something hilariously funny, making Porchay laugh so hard he swayed to the side but still managed to catch himself on the bench with his left arm.
“Careful, angel!” Kim called out, and before Porchay knew what was happening, he was already up and sliding onto the bench right next to him. “You’re making me worry you’ll fall down the stairs without even meaning to go near them.”
Suddenly, Kim was so close. So damn close. And he gave off such calm warmth, and he smelled so good, like Kim, like that perfume and his leather jacket and something smoky and now also like that awful cocktail that somehow suited him perfectly.
Without thinking, Porchay leaned against Kim. His head was spinning slightly. He felt light and carefree and… definitely a bit more than tipsy.
“P’Kim, can I kiss you?”
“Chay... Angel… you’re drunk… and I might not be who you think I am.” Kim’s words didn’t make any sense. And it didn’t matter at all.
“I don’t mind. You’re already everything I want.”
Kim sighed, seemed to wrestle with himself for a moment, before a beautiful smile spread across his lips. “You are, too, angel. Everything I could ever want and more than I’d ever deserve.”
Then Kim cupped Porchay’s face, gently, so gently that Porchay’s breath almost caught again. And even more so when... nothing else happened. Kim didn’t kiss him. He just held him there, their faces close, his gaze locked into Porchay’s.
So Porchay closed the last few centimeters himself and pressed their lips together. Just once. Then again. And again, peck by peck, soft and innocent.
Kim’s mouth curled into a wide smile, so on the fourth try, Porchay ended up pecking his front teeth.
“Too sweet,” Kim murmured again before letting go of Porchay’s face, sliding one hand to the back of Porchay’s head and the other to his chin, holding him still for a few seconds before finally kissing him.
A little pressure from Kim’s fingers made Porchay’s lips part, and he felt Kim’s tongue, on his lips, in his mouth, against his own tongue, his teeth, everywhere.
Sure, Kim had taken the lead because Porchay had kind of frozen at first, but now he was kissing back, eager, clumsy, but so willing to get it right. And judging by Kim’s constant smiling and his whispered “So sweet…”, he wasn’t doing too badly.
And that was how a picture of WIK snuggling some random sweet boy senseless in a café booth went viral on Instagram and several LINE groups.