Work Text:
Rain had three problems that morning.
One, he was late for class.
Two, he had spilled hot chocolate on his last clean white shirt — the one that didn’t have a mysterious oil stain shaped like a goose.
And three, Phayu had just leaned over and kissed his forehead like they’d been married for twenty years and this was part of a Sunday ritual, not a rushed Tuesday panic.
Rain stood frozen in the doorway, backpack half-slung, toast dangling from his mouth like a cartoon character, while his brain tried to catch up with the fact that Phayu had kissed him. In public. Without a fight. Without teasing. Just... soft and casual.
“What was that?” Rain asked, blinking.
Phayu didn’t even look up from his coffee. He was dressed in black today — black shirt, rolled sleeves, leather watch, dangerous smirk lurking behind every blink. Rain hated that look. It made his heart malfunction.
“Hmm?” Phayu glanced up, face a picture of innocent amusement. “Breakfast kiss.”
“You’ve never given me a breakfast kiss,” Rain muttered, stomping down the hallway like he hadn’t just turned pink from ear to ear.
Phayu finally looked at him — really looked — and his lips twitched. “You were leaving without saying goodbye. That felt illegal.”
Rain stared. “So you... kissed me because it was illegal not to?”
Phayu tilted his head thoughtfully. “Partly. Also... you smell like that candy-scented shampoo again. Couldn’t resist.”
Rain flushed deeper, spun around, and nearly walked straight into the doorframe.
From the living room, Sky’s voice floated lazily: “I swear you two have worse plot twists than K-dramas.”
Rain yelled back, “You're not even supposed to be here!”
“I’m not. But Prapai is making pancakes and your relationship is free entertainment.”
---
Rain eventually escaped with his dignity half intact and a helmet that smelled faintly like Phayu’s cologne. He tried to shake the weird feeling building in his chest — like he was being watched, or studied, or... adored?
No. That couldn’t be it.
Phayu didn’t act like this. Not without a reason.
Which meant there had to be a reason.
Maybe Rain forgot something? An anniversary? A promise?
Did Phayu get bad news? Was he dying? Was Rain dying?
Was this all some weird emotional bucket list?
Rain arrived at class twenty minutes late and barely noticed that people were whispering more than usual. His professor paused mid-sentence to smile too warmly. Two students stared at him like he had grown wings.
Rain sat down in a daze and texted Phayu under the desk.
🌧️ Rain: what’s wrong with you today
🌧️ Rain: you’re being weird
🌧️ Rain: are you mad at me?
🌧️ Rain: or are YOU dying?
The reply came five minutes later.
🖤 Phayu: You’re the only one killing me. Slowly. With how cute you looked walking into the workshop yesterday.
Rain stared at the screen. His ears went red.
He slammed his face onto his notebook and groaned so hard the girl next to him offered him a mint.
---
The Night Before
Phayu sat at his desk, twirling a pen between his fingers. Rain had left in a rush — something about a late submission and missing socks — and forgotten to take his old notebook.
It was worn, leather-bound, and covered in doodles of clouds and bikes and tiny stick figures with dramatic speech bubbles. Phayu had seen it before but never opened it.
This time, a page had fluttered open, like it wanted to be read.
He wasn’t snooping. Technically.
His eyes landed on a title:
Letter #1 – I think I like the way he glares at me when I mess with his tools.
Phayu blinked.
Then read the entire thing in silence.
It was messy and rambly. Rain’s thoughts jumped around like his body did when he was flustered. He’d written about how Phayu’s hands looked when fixing an engine. About how annoyed he got when Phayu was smug. About how — maybe — that annoyance wasn’t real. Maybe it was... interest?
Phayu closed the notebook gently, but his lips twitched.
His heart was doing something unfamiliar.
He let it.
---
Lunch break found Rain sitting across from Sky, stabbing at his rice like it had insulted him personally.
“Something is wrong,” he declared.
Sky raised an eyebrow. “With your face?”
“No! With Phayu.”
Sky scrolled through his phone, then paused. “Ah.”
“What? What did you find? Is he seeing someone else?” Rain leaned in, horrified.
Sky turned his phone around. It was an Instagram post — Rain, crouched next to a motorbike, grease on his cheek, smiling so hard his eyes had disappeared. The caption read: “When students love what they do, it shows. Meet Rain: our sunshine engineer.”
The post had 21k likes.
And nearly 500 comments.
“...Oh,” Rain said faintly.
“Yup,” Sky said. “You’re famous now. Campus sweetheart. Internet crush. Hot biker twink.”
Rain blinked. “Twink?”
Sky sipped his drink. “Phayu saw this yesterday.”
“Oh.”
“Yup.”
Rain went quiet for a long minute.
“Wait... do you think he’s acting weird because he’s jealous?”
Sky shrugged. “Could be. Or maybe...” he trailed off, eyes sharp.
“Maybe what?”
“Nothing,” Sky said. “Eat your rice, Heartthrob.”
---
Back at the workshop that night, Phayu opened the notebook again.
Letter #2 – I hope he never finds these.
Today he scolded me for using 4-ply tissue on the bike chain. I think I love him.
Phayu chuckled.
He didn’t mean to.
It just... slipped out.
He folded the page softly, closed the book, and leaned back with a smile he didn’t wear often.
“One letter at a time,” he murmured. “Let’s see how much you loved me before I even noticed.”
---
The next morning was suspiciously normal.
Too normal.
Which, for Rain, was reason enough to panic.
Phayu had already left by the time he rolled out of bed, but there was a sticky note on the fridge in handwriting Rain absolutely refused to admit he found hot.
“Coffee’s in the pot. Don’t burn the toast. Or the house. Love you.”
Rain stared at the note for three full seconds.
Then he stuck it to his forehead and yelled into the empty kitchen, “What are you planning, you menace of a man?!”
Sky, who had arrived uninvited as usual, leaned against the counter holding a banana.
“Should I be concerned?”
Rain peeled the note off his face, flushed. “He left me coffee, Sky. Coffee. He doesn’t even drink coffee.”
“Maybe he’s trying to keep you alive. That’s love, technically.”
Rain narrowed his eyes. “No. This is a pattern now. He’s... doing things.”
“Doing things,” Sky repeated flatly.
“Yes!” Rain waved the note like a flag. “He brought me mango candies yesterday. And told me my hair looked like a fluffy cloud. He never compliments my hair. He insults it. Like a normal boyfriend.”
Sky raised an eyebrow. “What’s the problem? You finally tamed the emotionally constipated biker and now you’re scared?”
Rain slumped into a chair. “Yes. Maybe. I don’t know. It’s like he’s... smiling too much. And saying weird things. Like—like yesterday, he looked at me like I mattered. It was terrifying.”
Sky deadpanned. “God forbid.”
Rain groaned and thunked his head onto the table. “I’m being haunted by romantic energy.”
---
Later That Day – Campus Cafeteria
Rain poked at his lunch without enthusiasm. The whispers hadn’t stopped. A girl at the next table kept glancing at him like she was trying to decide whether he was a celebrity or just unusually symmetrical.
He had no clue what was happening.
Until a junior walked up, blushing furiously, and asked if she could take a selfie with him.
Rain nearly choked on his rice. “Me? Why?!”
“You’re Rain, right?” she beamed. “From the Instagram post? You look even better in person!”
“What post?!”
Sky reached into his bag and wordlessly pulled out his phone.
There it was again. That stupid candid photo from the workshop — Rain with a wrench in his hand and sunlight in his curls, laughing at something off-camera. Probably at Phayu being annoying.
The caption: “Our student Rain, a true blend of talent and charm.”
It had over 35,000 likes now.
Rain’s stomach dropped.
“WHAT THE HELL?!”
“Welcome to the influencer life,” Sky said, sipping his soda. “You’re internet-famous. Also, Prapai says you’ve entered your soft-boy arc.”
“Soft-boy WHAT?!”
Sky shrugged. “Don’t worry. It’s harmless. But I’m guessing this is why Phayu’s been sticking to you like engine grease lately.”
Rain blinked. “You think he’s... jealous?”
Sky’s lips curled into something evil. “Oh, sweetheart. He’s seething under that poker face.”
---
🖤 That Night – Phayu’s Workshop
Phayu sat at the desk, hands still dirty from a long day, Rain’s forgotten sketchbook open in front of him like a secret garden.
He didn’t rush.
Each letter deserved its own moment.
Tonight, he turned to Letter #3.
And this one...
This one was different.
---
Letter #3 –
I don’t know what triggered it.
It wasn’t dramatic. There was no rainstorm. No epic fight.
Just him, crouched by my scooter, fixing the back tire like it was the only thing in the world that mattered.
His jaw was covered in oil. There was a cut on his hand.
I gave him a Band-Aid. He didn’t look at me. Just said,
“Keep your hands clean, idiot. That shampoo you use costs more than my toolkit.”
I should’ve rolled my eyes. Walked away.
But my heart did something stupid.
It hiccuped.
He looked up, just once. And for some reason, that one glance was enough.
Click.
Like the world shifted. Like I knew I was going to fall and I didn’t even care.
He didn’t know. He still doesn’t.
But that was the moment I started wanting to stay.
Just... stay.
---
Phayu leaned back in his chair, eyes soft.
This letter didn’t make him smirk like the last one.
It made him still.
Made something warm bloom behind his ribs.
He didn’t say anything.
Didn’t need to.
His smile said it all — gentle, fond, slow.
The kind of smile that didn’t belong to anyone else.
---
Rain had exactly one goal for the day:
Get answers.
Because clearly, something was going on.
Phayu had always been steady — a bit smug, a little exasperated, but mostly calm.
Now?
He was unpredictable.
Sweet, yes. But suspiciously so.
Too many forehead kisses. Too many “you look cute today” moments. Too many feelings in his eyes when he looked at Rain, like he was watching the sun rise from a secret place only he knew.
Rain didn’t hate it.
He just didn’t get it.
---
“Okay,” Rain announced that afternoon, sitting in Sky’s dorm room like it was an interrogation unit. “What do guys do when they’re hiding something romantic?”
Sky didn’t even look up from his phone. “Bake cupcakes. Write poetry. Or, in Phayu’s case, rebuild your scooter from scratch and then pretend he just ‘adjusted the alignment.’”
Rain groaned. “Useless. You’re useless.”
Sky raised an eyebrow. “Tell that to the 18,000 new followers you gained in the last week.”
Rain blanched. “Wait, WHAT?”
Sky turned his phone. Rain’s reposted photo had made it to multiple fan accounts. Some had turned it into aesthetic edits. One had done a "Rain smile appreciation reel" set to lo-fi music.
Rain gaped. “This is insane.”
“Check the DMs yet?” Sky said, too casually.
Rain opened his Instagram, curious.
He regretted it immediately.
Messages. So many messages.
"Hey sunshine, you single?"
"If your mechanic BF ever messes up, call me 😘"
"I’d let you ruin my carburetor, just saying."
Rain gagged. “WHAT IS A CARBURETOR?!”
Sky laughed so hard he wheezed. “It’s official. You're the internet’s favorite cinnamon roll.”
Rain’s ears burned. “Phayu hasn’t seen this, right?”
Sky raised a brow. “Oh, Rain. He lives on the edge of possessive. Of course he has.”
Rain’s stomach sank.
---
🖤 Later That Evening — Workshop
Rain walked into the garage carrying snacks and tension.
Phayu was leaning against the counter, arms crossed, black shirt slightly rolled up at the sleeves. His eyes flicked over Rain once.
“Hey,” Rain said.
Phayu hummed.
Not “hey babe” or “you’re late” — just a low, unreadable hum.
Rain frowned. “You okay?”
Instead of answering, Phayu pushed off the counter, walked over, and took the snacks from Rain’s hands.
He set them aside.
Then he took a step closer.
Then another.
Rain's back hit the door.
He blinked up. “...P’Phayu?”
Phayu leaned in.
Rain’s breath hitched.
His hand came up, brushing Rain’s curls aside gently. Fingers tucked behind his ear. A thumb ghosted over Rain’s cheekbone.
“You’ve been popular lately,” Phayu murmured.
Rain blinked. “Wh-what?”
“Instagram,” Phayu said. “Your smile. That photo. I saw the edits.”
Rain turned red. “I didn’t ask for that! I didn’t even know—”
“I know,” Phayu said.
His tone was calm.
Too calm.
It was the kind of calm that came with low thunder — steady, quiet, dangerous if you didn’t take cover.
Phayu leaned closer.
His lips brushed the shell of Rain’s ear. “You’re mine, Rain.”
Rain’s knees nearly gave out.
“I—uh—yes??” he squeaked.
Phayu didn’t kiss him.
Didn’t even smirk.
He just looked at him, eyes dark and steady and real, and Rain had to look away because the weight of it was too much.
---
📖 Meanwhile: That Morning —
> Letter #4 –
Hypothetically Speaking
Hypothetically... if he were to ever kiss me, I’d want it to happen when no one else was looking.
Not because I’m shy. (Okay, maybe a little.)
But because it would feel like ours. Just ours.
He’d probably do it all smug — like it wasn’t a big deal.
Meanwhile I’d be imploding.
I wonder how his hands would feel on my jaw. Or my back.
I wonder if he kisses like he argues — slow, careful, but firm.
If he ever kissed me first, I’d probably combust.
Just hypothetically.
---
🖤 Back to Workshop
Phayu didn’t kiss Rain that night.
But he did walk him to the door.
Held his chin gently.
And whispered, “Let me remind them.”
Then he brushed his lips once — slow and deliberate — just under Rain’s ear.
Rain went stiff.
Then melted.
He spent the entire bike ride home muttering, “He’s possessed. I need holy water. Or Sky’s baseball bat.”
Sky, when told about it, simply said, “He licked his territory, babe. It’s over for the thirsty DM crowd.”
---
Rain had a plan.
Was it detailed? No.
Was it well thought out? Also no.
Did it involve walking around with suspicious amounts of cologne and asking “do you think Phayu’s acting strange lately?” to anyone who made eye contact?
Yes.
Absolutely.
Because Rain was determined now. He had gone full conspiracy mode.
“Maybe he hit his head,” he muttered while walking to the workshop, “or maybe he made a bet with Prapai. Like, ‘I bet I can make Rain melt in under three days.’ Joke’s on him though, I’ve already melted. Wait—NO. That’s not the point.”
People on campus still smiled at him more than usual. A few waved. One girl asked to borrow his notes and then said he had “main character energy.”
Sky, when told this, responded, “That’s because you’re radiating secret-boyfriend glow. It’s the lighting. And the jacket.”
Rain glanced down.
It was Phayu’s jacket.
He hadn’t even realized he’d put it on.
Again.
---
🔧 Workshop – Early Evening
Rain arrived and found Phayu bent over a bike, sleeves rolled, hair slightly tousled, grease on his fingers — the usual deadly combination.
Rain approached slowly.
“Hey,” he said, casual.
Phayu looked up, the corner of his mouth twitching. “Hi.”
Okay, weird. Not a single insult. Not even a mock sigh.
Rain narrowed his eyes. “You feeling okay?”
Phayu tilted his head. “You’re the one who’s been talking to every random person on campus today.”
Rain blinked. “What? I wasn’t—”
“You were,” Phayu said, standing upright, wiping his hands on a rag. “That blonde guy from mech? The one who complimented your ‘structure’? What was that about?”
Rain’s jaw dropped. “He said my shoulders looked structurally sound! He was talking about posture!”
Phayu stepped closer. “He looked at you like he wanted to dismantle your whole blueprint.”
Rain flushed. “Wha—what does that even mean?!”
Phayu didn’t reply.
Just reached out, tugged Rain forward by the front of the jacket — the one he hadn’t realized was Phayu’s, again — and leaned in just enough to make Rain forget how breathing worked.
“You know you don’t need anyone else’s attention, right?” Phayu said, voice low.
Rain’s mouth opened.
Then closed.
Then opened again.
“I—uh—I wasn’t—getting attention,” he stammered. “It’s not like I asked to be popular! I didn’t even post the photo—!”
Phayu’s grip didn’t tighten. But he didn’t let go either.
He just... looked.
And Rain felt it. That look.
The one that made the world shrink down to Phayu’s eyes and Rain’s chest pounding loud enough to echo.
Rain gulped. “You’re doing the thing again.”
“What thing?”
Rain waved his hands, flailing. “That! The... intense... possessive... eye thing!”
Phayu raised an eyebrow. “Eye thing?”
“You know exactly what I’m talking about!” Rain hissed. “You’re looking at me like you’re about to kiss me or kill me, and I don’t know which is worse!”
Phayu leaned in, lips brushing the corner of Rain’s mouth.
“Kiss you,” he murmured.
Rain went up in flames.
“OH MY GOD—”
---
📖 That Night –
> Letter #6 –
Am I Even Subtle?
I tried to play it cool today.
I saw him at the vending machine. I could’ve walked away.
But no.
I stood there. Like an idiot.
Waiting for him to notice me.
When he finally turned around, I pretended to be surprised. Said, “Oh, hey,” like I hadn’t been staring at his reflection in the vending glass for the past two minutes.
He said, “You again?”
I said, “Don’t flatter yourself.”
What I meant was:
Please look at me like you mean it.
I don’t know if I’m being subtle or just stupid.
But I think I’m in too deep now.
And he has no idea.
---
🖤 Back to Workshop – Aftermath
Rain sat on the workbench, cheeks pink, knees pulled up, watching Phayu check the alignment on a rear tire like he hadn’t just reduced Rain to a puddle of hormonal lightning.
Rain was now more confused than ever.
This wasn’t normal flirting.
This wasn’t Phayu being playful.
This was... something else.
Possessive. Protective. Personal.
“I’m gonna crack,” Rain whispered to himself. “I’m going to go completely insane before I figure this out.”
From across the room, Phayu looked up — like he’d heard.
He smirked.
Rain screamed internally.
---
Rain had a plan.
Again.
Because his last plan — observing Phayu like a wildlife documentary — hadn’t worked. Phayu had only smiled at him more. Smirked, even.
But today was different.
Today, Rain would play his game.
Make Phayu jealous.
A little flirting. A little playful banter with other people. Nothing crazy. Just enough to tip the balance. Make Phayu squirm.
That was the theory.
In reality?
Rain barely lasted five minutes.
The plan started in the campus quad. Rain had picked a spot near the mechanical engineering bench, where a few upperclassmen liked to hang around post-lectures. He knew one of them, Chai, a guy with tattoos and an unfortunate habit of calling people “bro” unironically.
Rain grinned wide when Chai waved him over.
He swung his bag over his shoulder, casually brushing his hair back the way Phayu always said made him look “weirdly attractive.”
“So, Rain,” Chai said, handing him a water bottle, “you free this weekend?”
“Depends,” Rain said, tossing his best flirty smile. “What’s in it for me?”
Chai laughed. “Helping me pick speakers. You’ve got good taste.”
Rain preened a little. Okay. Not bad. Not hot-jealousy-triggering yet, but maybe—
Then a shadow fell over them.
“Rain.”
Rain froze.
Turned.
Phayu was standing there in his black workshop shirt and gloves tucked into his back pocket, eyes locked on Rain, unreadable.
Chai, bless his soul, grinned. “Hey, man.”
Phayu didn’t smile back.
Rain swallowed. “Hi.”
“You left your helmet.”
“Oh—uh, thanks.”
Phayu didn’t hand it to him immediately. He stepped closer. Close enough that Rain had to tilt his head to look up. Close enough that Chai suddenly found a reason to check his phone.
Rain tried to laugh. “I was just—”
“Flirting?” Phayu said, voice low and even.
“No!” Rain blurted. Then, quickly: “Maybe? A little?”
Phayu’s jaw flexed.
Rain panicked. “It wasn’t serious! Just—you know, as a joke! I was testing something!”
“Testing what?”
Rain stammered. “Like, how long it takes you to—uh—get annoyed.”
Phayu’s eyes darkened. He didn’t speak. He simply handed Rain the helmet, then stepped back with a calmness that made Rain feel like he’d just kicked a beehive.
“Come with me,” Phayu said.
Rain blinked. “Where?”
“Garage.”
Rain followed, pulse already pounding.
---
The workshop was quiet.
Too quiet.
Phayu didn’t speak as he closed the shutter behind them.
Rain fiddled with the strap of his bag, suddenly unsure of everything.
“You’re mad,” he mumbled.
“I’m not.”
Rain looked up.
Phayu wasn’t glaring.
He wasn’t scowling.
He was calm.
Dangerously, devastatingly calm.
“I just want to make something clear,” Phayu said, stepping forward slowly. “Since you’re confused.”
Rain opened his mouth, but Phayu was already there — his hand cupping Rain’s jaw, the other sliding around his waist, pulling him in until there was no space left between them.
“Do you like being looked at by other people?” he asked, voice low against Rain’s skin.
Rain’s breath caught. “I—I don’t know—”
“Do you like when they talk to you like they’ve got a chance?” Phayu murmured, fingers slipping under the hem of Rain’s shirt at his back.
Rain shivered. “N-no.”
“Then why were you letting them?”
“I—I thought you’d—”
Phayu didn’t let him finish.
His mouth dropped to Rain’s neck — right where his heartbeat screamed against the skin — and kissed. Not sweetly. Not softly. It was claiming, precise, firm.
Then again.
And again.
Lips dragging slowly, tongue tasting, teeth grazing just enough to make Rain’s knees weaken.
“You want to test me?” Phayu murmured, voice molten against his skin. “Here’s your answer.”
He sucked.
Hard.
Right beneath Rain’s ear, in the place he knew would make him gasp.
Rain gasped.
His hands gripped Phayu’s shoulders, trying to hold on to something — anything — as his body turned to jelly.
Phayu bit.
Rain whimpered.
And then Phayu licked over the mark, slow and deliberate, like he was sealing it in.
Rain was a puddle.
Just. Gone.
Melted.
His breath stuttered. “You’re not mad?”
“I’m furious,” Phayu said calmly, eyes glinting. “But mostly I’m reminding you.”
“Reminding me?”
“That you’re mine.”
Rain nodded. Or tried to. His head lolled weakly onto Phayu’s shoulder.
Phayu kissed his temple and whispered, “Don’t test me again, baby.”
Rain whimpered something unintelligible that might’ve been “I wasn’t ready for that,” or maybe just a series of vowels.
---
Later, when Rain finally got home — flushed, marked, and emotionally fried — he collapsed onto his bed face-first.
He reached for his sketchbook, almost out of habit.
And flipped, blindly, to the next page.
There it was.
---
📖 Letter #7 —
I had a dream last night.
It wasn’t weird or spicy or anything. (Okay maybe a little.)
It was just... soft.
We were lying somewhere. A hammock? His arms were around me. He was laughing at something dumb I said.
I think I was wearing his shirt.
He kissed my forehead and said, “You always smell like rain.”
That’s it. That’s the dream.
I woke up with my heart in my throat.
I’ve never wanted anything more than I wanted to go back to sleep and finish it.
I don’t know if that means I’m in love.
But if it does…
Then maybe this whole confusing, ridiculous, terrifying thing is worth it.
---
🖤 Later That Night – Phayu
He found Letter #7 tucked near the back of the sketchbook, like Rain had written it half-asleep and forgotten it existed.
But Phayu didn’t forget.
He read it twice, then once more, whispering the line “You always smell like rain.”
And when he looked up at the ceiling with the tiniest smile playing at his lips, the only thing he said was,
“I’ll give you that dream someday. For real.”
---
Rain should’ve stayed home.
That thought hit him the minute they entered the bar and the lighting hit just right — because suddenly, people were looking again.
Not just glancing. Looking.
And sure, he looked good. He knew that. Sky had even admitted, “You’re giving ‘trendy brat with accidental charm.’”
Which was his version of a compliment.
But Rain wasn’t used to attention.
Not when he was also trying to figure out why Phayu kept doing That Thing™ — the smolder-glare-slight-smirk combo that left Rain blushing like a schoolgirl in a drama.
Tonight was a group hang.
Sky, Prapai, Phayu, and Rain.
And Rain had made a silent vow: Don’t make things weird.
No flirting. No testing Phayu. No chaos.
Just vibes.
Of course, the universe spat on that plan immediately.
---
They were at the bar, half a cocktail in, when it happened.
A stranger — tall, lean, kind of too-slick — bumped shoulders with Rain on the way to the counter.
He smiled.
Rain blinked.
“You waiting for someone?” the guy asked, glancing down at his drink. “Or just giving people like me a reason to come over?”
Rain blinked harder.
Was that a line? Was this happening?
Rain laughed awkwardly. “Uh—no, I’m here with—”
The guy leaned a little closer, the crowd noisy. “Didn’t think guys like you came out without a leash.”
Rain’s brain short-circuited.
And then—
A hand appeared at his waist. Warm. Firm. Familiar.
“Yeah,” Phayu said, voice smooth and low, “and guess who’s holding it.”
Rain stiffened.
The guy blinked at Phayu, glanced at the hand on Rain’s hip, then wisely stepped back.
“My bad,” he muttered, and vanished into the crowd.
Rain turned to Phayu, heart in his throat.
“I—he wasn’t—”
“I know,” Phayu said, eyes calm but burning just below. “You didn’t do anything.”
Then he leaned in.
Rain expected a kiss. A small one. A brush on the cheek.
He got annihilated.
Phayu kissed him like he was proving something. Like the bar didn’t exist. Like the music had faded and the only beat was his heartbeat thrumming against Rain’s lips.
It wasn’t obscene. It was barely open-mouthed.
But it was deep. And slow. And devastatingly personal.
Phayu’s hand slid up Rain’s side, resting just under his ribs.
The other cradled his jaw like he was a precious thing.
And Rain?
Melted. Collapsed. Whimpered softly, his hand fisting into Phayu’s shirt like it was the only thing tethering him to Earth.
By the time they pulled apart, Rain was pink-faced, breathless, and visibly ruined.
Phayu licked his lips once, leaned in, and whispered against his temple, “No one else gets to touch the rain.”
Rain barely held in a squeak.
---
They returned to the table like nothing happened.
Sky was sipping his beer like he’d just watched a live telenovela.
Prapai had one brow arched so high it was almost on vacation.
“Well, that explains the neck bruise,” Sky said dryly.
Rain choked. “You saw that?!”
“It’s been there for three days, Rain. I thought it was a tattoo.”
Rain sank into the booth, hiding behind a menu.
Prapai leaned toward Phayu. “So. You’re working through your feelings with PDA now?”
Phayu didn’t reply.
He just reached out and tucked a strand of Rain’s hair behind his ear.
Rain turned scarlet.
Sky raised his glass. “To subtlety. May it rest in peace.”
---
📖 Later That Night – Rain’s Room
Rain couldn’t sleep.
He was buzzing. Flushed. Very aware of the kiss and the whisper and the hand that had been on his waist all evening.
He needed to doodle. Maybe write. Get it out of his system.
So he grabbed his sketchbook.
Flipped past the latest pages.
But one was half-stuck.
He gently pulled it open.
And froze.
It wasn’t a drawing.
It was Letter #2. Somehow wedged behind another page. Unfinished. A little wrinkled.
Rain blinked.
He didn’t remember putting that one there.
His fingers trembled just slightly as he read the first few lines.
I think it’s happening again. That stupid fluttery thing in my chest.
He brushed my hand today when we passed the wrench. I think I forgot how to speak.
I called him “gremlin-face” to overcompensate. He just grinned.
I think I’m in trouble.
Rain stared at it.
And then his eyes narrowed.
“…Wait.”
That page had been torn. A small rip in the corner.
Hadn’t he tucked that version into his pencil pouch?
His breath caught.
Was this a copy?
Or... was this the original?
---
🖤 Meanwhile – Phayu’s Room
Phayu sat cross-legged on the bed, sketchbook closed on his lap, fingers brushing the edge of the next letter he hadn’t read yet.
He smiled faintly to himself and whispered:
“Don’t catch me yet, baby. I’m still falling.”
---
Phayu found the letter by accident.
He’d tucked the sketchbook behind his pillow, as always — but tonight it slid open on its own.
One folded page fell out.
No hearts. No doodles. Just Rain’s handwriting, slightly messier than usual.
Phayu knew before he even opened it:
This one would be different.
And it was.
---
📖 Letter #8 —
I know it’s stupid.
But sometimes I look at him and think — why me?
He’s tall and calm and powerful.
And I’m…
Loud. Clumsy. Probably annoying.
He could’ve liked anyone. Someone cooler. Quieter. Less dramatic.
And yeah, he says things. Says I’m cute. Says he likes my chaos.
But what if someday he doesn’t?
What if I wake up and I’m too much and he gets tired and just… leaves?
I’d smile and pretend it’s fine.
But it would break me.
---
Phayu read it twice.
Then he closed his eyes.
And for the first time since this secret little game had started, he didn’t smile.
Instead, he whispered, “You idiot,” so softly it didn’t sound cruel.
It sounded like someone whose heart had cracked open.
---
🌌 The Next Day —
Rain was buzzing with energy.
He had a plan. A romantic plan.
Step 1: Borrow Sky’s Bluetooth speaker.
Step 2: Set up candles at the edge of the lake. (Battery-operated, because safety.)
Step 3: Hide behind the bushes, hit play on a Rain-approved playlist (soft pop + lo-fi + 1 painfully dramatic piano ballad), and walk out like he hadn’t just tripped on a root.
Sky had asked, “Why are you doing this like you’re in a musical?”
Rain had replied, “Because I am the musical.”
Which explained… a lot.
---
The sun had barely dipped when Rain dragged Phayu out of the garage.
“Where are we going?” Phayu asked, suspicious.
Rain grinned. “Shut up and walk.”
They reached the spot just as the first track started — a dreamy acoustic version of something neither of them would admit made them emotional.
Rain gestured around. “Ta-da!”
Phayu blinked. “You did all this?”
“Yep.” Rain grinned. “Don’t fall too in love with me too fast.”
Then the speaker promptly died.
Rain froze. “What—no—Sky said this was charged!”
Phayu chuckled.
Rain panicked. “Wait, no — I brought backup!”
He reached into his backpack — and dropped three candles, a charging cord (no power bank), a semi-melted chocolate bar, and a frog plushie he had no reason to carry.
Phayu laughed. Laughed. The full-body, eyes-wrinkling kind of laugh that made Rain want to explode and melt at the same time.
Rain groaned and sat down hard on the grass. “This was supposed to be romantic. Now it looks like a cult meeting where the ritual failed.”
Phayu sat beside him.
“I liked it.”
“You’re lying.”
“I liked the frog.”
Rain threw the frog at him.
Phayu caught it easily.
Then turned, leaned in, and kissed Rain’s cheek.
Soft. Simple. Just… enough.
“I liked everything, Rain,” he said. “Because it’s you.”
Rain swallowed.
“I’m a mess,” he said.
“You’re my mess,” Phayu replied. “Don’t ever doubt that again.”
Rain blinked.
Then blurted, “I might’ve written something dramatic the other night.”
Phayu smiled faintly. “I know.”
Rain squinted. “What?”
Phayu froze for half a second.
Then said, smoothly, “I mean — I could guess. You’re always dramatic.”
Rain stared at him, suspicious.
Phayu kissed him again before he could question it.
Rain melted.
Just a little.
---
Phayu didn’t mean to find the letter.
Not that night.
Rain had left the sketchbook on his desk in a rush — torn between calling Sky for help on an assignment and chasing a very real frog that had gotten into their shared laundry basket.
Phayu was supposed to wait.
Supposed to give Rain space.
Supposed to let him hand those words over on his own.
But the sketchbook was open.
And one page had a sticky note with a half-scribbled thought:
“Too much. Don’t read this again. EVER.”
Which, of course, guaranteed Phayu would.
So he did.
---
📖 Letter #9 —
I don’t know why I’m writing this one.
It’s not funny. Or dramatic. Or even poetic.
It’s just… sad.
Because sometimes I wonder what it would feel like to be enough.
Not tolerated. Not amusing.
But wanted.
Like someone would look at me and say, “That one. That’s mine.”
I don’t think I’ve ever believed I deserved that.
And now—
Now that I think someone might...
I’m scared.
Because if he loves me and then stops loving me…
I don’t know if I’ll survive it.
I’m not made for heartbreak.
I’m made for messy mornings and loud laughter and burning too bright.
And maybe that’s too much.
Maybe that’s why he shouldn’t love me.
---
Phayu closed the sketchbook slowly.
He didn’t move.
Didn’t speak.
Just let the weight of the words settle in his chest like an anchor and thought:
“You have no idea how much I love all your ‘too much.’”
---
☀️ Next Morning — College Campus
Rain was chaos in human form.
Late for class. Slightly damp. Possibly wearing two different socks.
Sky was waiting outside the studio building, sipping iced coffee and watching his best friend flail.
“Rough morning?” he asked mildly.
Rain huffed. “I slept on my arm. It’s still numb. I tried to brush my teeth with it. I may have assaulted my own face.”
Sky nodded like this was Tuesday.
“Also,” Rain added, “I think Phayu is avoiding me.”
Sky raised an eyebrow. “Avoiding? Or processing?”
Rain blinked. “Processing what?”
Sky sipped again. “Nothing.”
Rain narrowed his eyes. “Why do you sound like you know something?”
“I always know something. It’s in the contract.”
“You’re not helping.”
Sky tilted his head. “Okay, okay. Here’s a real tip: if a man starts randomly complimenting your laugh, he’s either about to propose or he just read something he shouldn’t.”
Rain froze.
“What?”
Sky smirked.
Rain opened his mouth, then closed it.
Then opened it again. “Wait. Did he—? No. He couldn’t have—”
Sky patted his shoulder. “Good luck, sunshine.”
---
🍜 Later That Day — Canteen
Sky was halfway through his iced green tea when Prapai wandered over, dropped a tray in front of him, and said, “Did you tell him yet?”
Sky blinked. “Tell who what?”
“You know exactly what.”
Sky bit into a dumpling. “You’re going to have to narrow it down. I have at least three secrets right now.”
Prapai leaned in, grin lazy. “Rain.”
Sky chewed. “Not my secret to tell.”
“So you know that Phayu’s been reading the letters?”
Sky choked.
Prapai grinned wider. “Thought so.”
Sky dabbed his mouth, glaring. “How?”
“I’ve seen the look. The ‘I’ve read your diary and now I love you deeper than the ocean’ look.”
Sky groaned. “God, they’re so close to imploding.”
Prapai leaned back. “I give it four days.”
“Three,” Sky countered. “Unless Rain panics and proposes first.”
“Plot twist,” Prapai said. “Rain finds out, writes a letter about that, and Phayu reads that.”
Sky looked intrigued. “Actually… that would be iconic.”
---
🌌 That Night — Phayu’s Room
Phayu sat on the edge of the bed, thumb resting over Rain’s name in his contacts.
He hadn’t called.
Hadn’t texted.
But he wanted to.
He wanted to show Rain the letter. Ask him why he ever thought he wasn’t enough. Kiss every word off his skin until there was no room left for doubt.
Instead, he whispered to himself,
“Not yet. He has to find me first.”
---
Rain was pacing.
Like, aggressively.
Back and forth in front of Sky’s door while his best friend sat on the couch watching reruns of some drama neither of them had actually followed.
“Okay,” Rain said for the fourth time, “hear me out.”
“No.”
Rain scowled. “I didn’t say anything yet.”
Sky popped a cashew into his mouth. “Whatever it is, I’m saying no in advance.”
Rain dropped onto the armrest. “I think—I’m pretty sure—Phayu’s been reading the letters.”
Sky didn’t respond.
Which was already suspicious.
“Sky.”
Still no answer.
Rain blinked. “Oh my god. YOU KNEW?!”
Sky casually sipped his tea.
Rain flailed. “SKY!”
Sky shrugged. “It’s not like he meant to. The first one was stuck in your sketchbook. Then you left more. You never locked it. It’s like leaving your diary open on a park bench and blaming the birds for reading it.”
Rain covered his face. “Oh my god. I wrote things.”
Sky hummed. “Beautifully tragic things. Honestly, you should publish them. After tonight.”
Rain froze. “What happens tonight?”
Sky smiled. “He’s waiting.”
---
🖤 Rain’s Room –
Rain stormed in.
Phayu was sitting calmly on the floor, legs crossed, flipping through a motorcycle manual like nothing in the world was on fire.
Rain stood there.
Breathing hard.
Phayu looked up slowly. “Hey.”
“Hey?!” Rain choked. “That’s all you have to say?!”
Phayu raised an eyebrow. “Would you prefer ‘I’m sorry I fell for your heart before you handed it to me’?”
Rain stared. “...What?”
Phayu closed the book. Stood.
Took a step forward.
“I read the first one by accident,” he said softly. “I should’ve stopped. But I didn’t.”
Rain swallowed hard. “Why?”
“Because every letter felt like a piece of you I wasn’t allowed to touch yet. And I couldn’t stop wanting more.”
Rain’s heart slammed against his ribs.
“That’s not fair,” he whispered.
“I know,” Phayu replied. “But I love you. Even before you knew. Even before I knew. And if you want to yell at me, hit me, throw something—do it. But don’t ever say you’re too much again.”
Silence.
Thick.
Raw.
Then Rain whispered, “I don’t want to yell.”
Phayu took another step.
“I just… I don’t get it. Why me?”
And with that, Phayu broke.
Not with words.
But with his hands — threading into Rain’s hair, tilting his head up gently, eyes dark and glittering with something fierce and unrelenting.
“I’ll show you.”
---
It started with Rain’s neck.
Phayu pressed a kiss beneath his jaw — soft, reverent.
Then another, lower.
Then he paused, lips hovering over that spot where Rain always shuddered.
And whispered, “This neck? Drives me mad.”
He licked, slow and torturous, dragging a moan from Rain’s throat.
Bit. Gently.
Sucked. Harder.
Rain whimpered, fingers gripping Phayu’s shirt like a lifeline.
“You think you’re not enough?” Phayu murmured, voice rough against his skin. “You’re too much. In the best way. You crash through my quiet like a thunderstorm and I want every second of it.”
Rain was gone. Melted. Boneless.
But Phayu wasn’t done.
He kissed down the line of Rain’s throat, to his collarbone. Trailed his hands under Rain’s shirt — slow, reverent, worshipful.
He didn’t rush.
He showed.
With every graze of skin, every whispered mine, every kiss that told Rain — you are everything.
Rain gasped. Cried out. Clung.
And Phayu kept whispering:
“You’re not too loud.”
“You’re not too dramatic.”
“You’re mine.”
“Perfect.”
“Every. Damn. Bit.”
Rain collapsed into him.
And when Phayu finally laid him back — nothing frantic, nothing rushed — it wasn’t about claiming.
It was about proving.
With his hands.
His mouth.
His love.
---
They lay tangled in each other.
Rain’s lips swollen. His body buzzing. His heart so full it almost hurt.
“You weren’t supposed to read them,” he whispered.
Phayu kissed his temple. “I wasn’t supposed to fall this hard either.”
Rain blinked.
“Can I write one more?”
Phayu smiled. “I hope you never stop.”
---
Rain hadn’t expected to go back to class glowing.
He’d tried to hide it.
Put on extra concealer, covered the mark on his neck with his hoodie.
But there was only so much you could do when you’d been kissed until your bones melted and your heart turned into a love song.
Sky raised one eyebrow. “You walk like someone worshipped you last night.”
Rain kicked his shin.
Sky grinned. “You’re not denying it though.”
Rain blushed violently.
Behind them, Prapai muttered, “I give it an hour before Phayu loses his mind again.”
Sky nodded. “Bet?”
Prapai held up three fingers. “Forty-five minutes.”
---
🎓 College –
Rain didn’t mean to cause it.
He was literally just existing when it happened.
Standing by the vending machine, trying to decide between iced coffee or peach soda, when a guy from Mech — probably a junior — leaned over and said, “That hoodie’s swallowing you. Cute.”
Rain blinked.
The guy smiled. “Are you always this soft-looking or just when you’re thinking about snacks?”
Rain opened his mouth to reply — something polite, maybe sarcastic — but he didn’t get the chance.
Because Phayu appeared.
Like a silent storm.
Pulled Rain to him in one swift move. Arm around the waist. Hand cradling the back of his neck. Thumb brushing behind his ear.
And kissed him.
Hard.
Hot.
Possessive.
In front of half the quad.
Rain’s knees buckled.
The guy backed away, very wisely, without a word.
Phayu didn’t let go.
He whispered, “Still testing?”
Rain, breathless and shaking slightly, squeaked, “Nope. Test cancelled. Forever. I’m yours. Literally. Legally. Emotionally. Spiritually.”
Phayu kissed him again — slower this time — and whispered, “Good.”
Sky clapped from a distance. “Five minutes. Prapai wins.”
---
🌙 That Night
Phayu told Rain to meet him on the roof at 9 p.m.
Rain thought it’d be another makeout session under the stars. Maybe another “I love your neck” whisper with follow-up proof.
Instead… he found this:
A string of fairy lights.
Blankets and snacks.
And a large canvas on an easel.
Rain blinked. “Is this…?”
“It’s not a painting,” Phayu said.
Rain walked up to it.
Pinned to the canvas — one by one — were copies of every letter Rain had written. Rewritten by Phayu’s hand. In his careful, neat, architect-style writing.
Below each letter, he’d painted a tiny watercolor illustration — things Rain had doodled absentmindedly.
A bike.
A wrench.
A tiny frog with a crown.
Rain’s face mid-yell.
Rain’s throat tightened.
“You… saved them?”
“I loved them,” Phayu said softly. “And I wanted to show you how I read every word like it mattered. Because it did. Because you do.”
Rain blinked furiously.
“You’re gonna make me cry,” he whispered.
Phayu stepped closer. “I’m gonna make you mine. Over and over. In every way.”
Then he pulled Rain into his arms and whispered:
“No more doubts. No more tests. Just love.”
---
The rain was falling outside.
Soft. Gentle. Almost shy.
Rain (the boy, not the weather) lay curled up in bed, cheeks still flushed from the way Phayu had kissed him before leaving for a few hours.
Not rushed. Not desperate.
But lingering. Like a promise.
He stretched, wearing only Phayu’s too-big shirt and the fading ache of being loved thoroughly and unapologetically the night before.
He was still smiling when he found the envelope.
Placed neatly on the pillow beside him.
With his name.
In Phayu’s handwriting.
---
Rain.
I wasn’t supposed to fall.
I wasn’t supposed to read your heart before you offered it.
But I did.
And I fell anyway.
At first, it was your chaos. Your mess. Your hands that talk too much. Your laugh that fills an entire room like sunlight in a storm.
Then it was the quiet things.
The way you frown when you draw.
The way you pause before saying something important.
The way you always give your whole heart, even when you think it’s too loud to be loved.
I want you to know this:
You are not a boy I stumbled into.
You are the home I chose.
Every day, I look at you and think —
This is it.
This is the kind of love I didn’t believe existed until you laughed at my grease-stained shirt and asked if I was secretly in a shampoo commercial.
I love you.
Loudly. Silently.
Entirely.
And if you’ll let me —
I’ll love you for the rest of my life.
Even when your frog collection grows concerning.
Even when your sketchbook gets sticky with paint.
Even when you forget to close the toothpaste.
You’re mine.
And I am yours.
— Phayu
Your mechanic. Your home. Your man.
---
Rain read it twice.
Then three more times.
Then promptly cried.
Soft, hiccupy, happy tears.
Which was exactly the moment Phayu walked in — only to find his boyfriend blotchy-faced and clinging to the letter like it was oxygen.
“You—” Rain sniffled, “—you emotional bastard.”
Phayu grinned.
Pulled off his jacket.
And walked over.
---
Phayu didn’t say anything.
He just climbed into bed.
Pulled Rain into his lap.
Kissed the tears from his cheeks.
Then his jaw.
Then his neck.
Rain whimpered. “You're doing it again…”
Phayu licked softly at his pulse. “Doing what?”
“That neck thing,” Rain breathed.
Phayu smiled against his skin. “Hmm. This neck that belongs to me?”
Rain nodded, already trembling.
“You keep thinking I’ll stop,” Phayu whispered, “when all I ever want… is to love you until there’s no part of you untouched.”
Rain moaned, half-lost, fully his.
And in the safety of that room — with his letter beside him and love burning through every kiss — Rain finally, completely, let himself believe:
I’m wanted.
I’m chosen.
I’m his.