Archive of Our Own

The smell of polished wood and still-warm tatami filled the dojo.
LingLing, her forehead beaded with sweat, slipped her shinai into her bag. The tension in her shoulders from training was just beginning to ease.

On the bench at the back, Arhoung swung her small legs, a school notebook lying crooked across her knees. She had tried to copy down a lesson, but her letters stretched unevenly, eraser smudges leaving pale halos on the page.

When she saw her sister approach, she leapt up, tried to grab the heavy kendo bag… but it was far too heavy. She staggered under the weight, knees buckling, nearly toppling over.
— “Arhoung!” sighed LingLing, catching the bag before it crushed her.

The little girl lifted her chin, sheepish, cheeks already flushed.
— “I just wanted to help…”

LingLing couldn’t help smiling. She slung the bag over her shoulder and bent down.
— “Climb on.”

Arhoung instantly wrapped her arms around her neck. Accustomed since forever to nestling against her big sister, she let herself be carried, arms tight around LingLing’s shoulders, her warm breath against her nape.

It wasn’t the first time. Since she was three, LingLing had taken on that role without complaint. Their mother had left early, their father always too busy juggling jobs to keep the household running. So it was LingLing who cooked simple meals, helped with homework, tucked Arhoung in at night. A big sister who had become a maternal anchor.

Arhoung, for her part, wasn’t a difficult child. Too lively, maybe too clever, she asked a thousand questions, telling LingLing everything without filter—except when shyness took over. But even her silences, LingLing understood.

That day, the little one dared to whisper:
— “Pam said we have to work on our presentation together… Can I?”

LingLing raised a brow.
— “Pam… Orm’s sister?”

An eager nod, followed by a pleading look.
— “Please, just one afternoon…”

LingLing turned her eyes away, as if to hide the ripple the name caused in her.
— “Hm. Fine. But you’ll owe me a week of dishes.”

Arhoung giggled, triumphant, chin perched on her sister’s shoulder.
— “Promise!”

She stayed there for a moment, then added in a near-secret breath:
— “You know… Pam is my best friend. And Orm… she’s nice too. Every time I come for Pam, she gives me a snack.”

LingLing paused, her hands tightening on the straps of her bags. She didn’t reply, but her heart beat faster.

The way home, she knew by heart. The Kornnaphat house was only a few streets away. Too close, sometimes, for her to truly ignore the memories.

The gate was already ajar. She pushed it open and stepped inside, without thinking.

Inside, bursts of music spilled from the living room. LingLing slowed, and the scene unfolded before her: Pam and Orm in the middle of the room, dancing—clumsy, awkward.

Pam, hair loose and glasses off, laughed as she tried to mimic the steps. Orm, serious behind her large round frames, counted under her breath as if leading a rehearsal. The contrast between them was striking—almost endearing.

Still perched on her sister’s back, Arhoung wriggled with excitement.
— “Put me down, quick!”

As soon as her feet touched the floor, she dashed straight to Pam. The two girls grabbed each other’s hands, already lost in giggles.

LingLing barely had a chance to breathe before a golden weight leapt at her—Uni, the family’s retriever, who knew her too well. He planted both paws on her chest, tongue lolling, tail thumping wildly.
— “Hey, Uni…” she muttered, absently scratching his head.

But her eyes, against her will, stayed fixed on Orm’s silhouette in the middle of the room. The music kept playing, and for a heartbeat LingLing saw again that kiss they had shared only weeks before—awkward, snatched in a fleeting moment, left without a tomorrow.

— “Hi, Arhoung,” Orm said, adjusting her glasses, a faint smile tugging at her lips.

The little one waved back enthusiastically before hurrying to Pam’s side. The two girls bent over their notebooks, already immersed in their own world.

In the living room, only LingLing and Orm remained, silence heavy between them.

— “You still dance,” LingLing murmured, as if to break the ice.

Orm shrugged, uneasy.
— “It’s Pam who insists…”

She avoided LingLing’s eyes, but her fingers betrayed her, nervously picking at the seam of her t-shirt.

LingLing drew in a deep breath. She couldn’t look at Orm without everything resurfacing. The gym, the roar of their classmates, the heat of the spotlight. And that shadowed corner beneath the bleachers, where she had dared to tug her by the sleeve, still panting from victory.

Only weeks ago.
The burn of that contact was still far too raw to be called memory.

Orm finally looked up.
— “… I thought you’d avoid me longer.”

LingLing let out a nervous little laugh, quickly swallowed.
— “That’s what I was doing… until our sisters decided to trap us.”

Their gazes clung a second too long. A soft, almost tender awkwardness settled between them.

Behind them, Pam and Arhoung burst into laughter, brandishing their scribbled pages like a prize. Two little allies, innocent, unaware of the invisible thread they had just rewoven between their older sisters.

The living room had turned into an improvised project zone. Sheets scattered across the coffee table, colored pencils rolling over the carpet.

Pam, taller by a head, had already declared herself leader of the project.
— “I’ll draw the trees, and you write the hard words!” she announced confidently.

Arhoung nodded with grave determination.
— “Roots… leaves… photosynthesis.”

LingLing allowed herself a tender smile. Even at seven years old, her little sister spoke as though she were taking a university exam.

Orm came to sit across from her, a light skirt brushing her knees. LingLing’s eyes slipped, against her will, along the fabric before she forced herself to focus back on the pile of papers.

— “Alright,” Orm began, “we need a plan. Introduction, development, conclusion.”
— “It’s a grade school presentation, not a courtroom plea,” LingLing muttered, amused.
— “It doesn’t hurt to be organized,” Orm shot back, pushing up her glasses.

Beside them, Pam and Arhoung had already abandoned their pencils and were bickering over who would get to color the tree first. Uni, the golden retriever, took advantage of the commotion to sprawl in the middle of the circle, tongue lolling, head planted squarely on the carefully arranged sheets.

— “Uni!” Pam groaned, tugging at the paper trapped beneath his paw.
The dog answered with a loud sigh, refusing to budge.

LingLing stifled a laugh, grabbed Arhoung’s notebook, and jotted down a few ideas herself.
— “We could talk about Thailand’s forests—fruits, animals…”
Orm tilted her head, her arm brushing almost against LingLing’s.
— “Yes, and the benefits of nature: air, shade, water.”

For a few minutes, they found themselves side by side, trading arguments far too advanced for a simple school project, filling the margins with notes while their younger sisters lost themselves in drawings and bursts of laughter.

Pam suddenly looked up, a mischievous grin tugging at her lips.
— “Looks like our big sisters are enjoying the project more than we are!”

Unfazed, Arhoung nodded with her usual seriousness.
— “Good. That way, we’ll probably get the best grade.”

Orm rolled her eyes, while LingLing stifled another laugh. In the middle of the circle, Uni stretched lazily, gave a loud yawn, and shoved his wet nose onto LingLing’s thigh as though to remind her he existed, too.

A sudden growl of her stomach made LingLing startle.
Orm immediately turned her head toward her, her look half-stern, half-amused.
— “Ling…”

Arhoung frowned, protective.
— “You trained earlier, and you didn’t eat!”

LingLing stuck her tongue out at her little sister, feigning a pout.
— “Go bother Pam instead.”

But Pam, already sprawled on the couch with Uni, had abandoned the project altogether to bury her hands in the golden’s fur.
— “Uni, you’re hogging all the space! I don’t have any cushion left!”

Without a word, Orm stood. She disappeared into the kitchen and came back a few minutes later with a hastily wrapped sandwich. Without attempting to hide her intent, she held it out to LingLing, still seated cross-legged on the floor.

Their fingers brushed. LingLing swallowed hard, frozen in place, her gaze flickering down to Orm’s legs, so close to her own. Suddenly she became achingly aware of her own worn but comfortable sweatpants—she had never liked skirts or the “model girl” outfits school insisted on.

She bit into the sandwich without waiting, chewing hungrily, manners forgotten.
— “It’s good…” she mumbled, mouth still full.

Orm arched a brow, amusement ghosting over her lips.
— “You’re not supposed to talk with your mouth full, Ling.”

Before LingLing could argue, Orm brushed away a crumb at the corner of her mouth with her fingertips. The gesture was so brief, so natural, that LingLing froze, heart hammering.

They returned to their work as if nothing had happened, tossing around ideas far too detailed for a grade school report, their heads nearly touching above the papers.

In the background, the younger girls’ laughter blended with Uni’s muffled barks. Pam and Arhoung had started an animated movie on the TV; the two of them huddled beneath a blanket, eyes fixed on the screen, eyelids heavy with sleep.

— “Hey, Arhoung, look,” Pam whispered, pointing at the screen. “That dog’s doing exactly what Uni does!”

Arhoung burst out laughing, then nudged Pam with her foot beneath the blanket. Pam retaliated instantly, and the two girls began a stealthy kicking match, stifling their giggles so as not to distract their sisters.

Orm and LingLing kept their eyes on the papers. But beneath the surface of their studious exchange, the silence hummed with something else entirely.

Time slipped away unnoticed. Orm, leaning over the coffee table, smoothed the corner of a draft before taping it down, so focused she forgot her glasses had slid halfway down her nose. She pushed them back up with a mechanical gesture, a sigh escaping her lips.

Beside her, LingLing lifted her head in search of a pencil—then froze.

On the couch, Pam and Arhoung had fallen asleep in front of the movie, curled against each other beneath the blanket. Tiny Arhoung had her cheek squashed against Pam’s shoulder; their steady breathing mingled with Uni’s soft snoring as he lay curled on the floor.

LingLing rose quietly, retrieved the fallen blanket, and tucked it snugly around the two little ones. She gently brushed back a strand of Arhoung’s hair, a tender smile brushing her lips.

Orm, meanwhile, gathered the scattered notebooks and, with a sure hand, placed them on the dining table to keep them from wrinkling. When she straightened, their eyes met.

The silence grew heavier, memories pressing between them, closer than their shoulders.

Without warning, Orm stepped closer. Her hand brushed LingLing’s, hesitated… then clasped it firmly.
— “Come,” she murmured.

Before LingLing could protest, Orm tugged her gently down the hall. Her fingers clung tightly, as if afraid LingLing might slip away again. The bedroom door creaked softly as she pushed it open, and the rest of the house faded behind them.

The door clicked shut. Inside, the walls were lined with posters and books stacked high on the desk. The air carried the familiar scent of paper and laundry.

LingLing felt Orm’s hand slip from hers. She stood still for a moment, heart pounding far too fast.
— “Orm, I…”

But Orm cut her off, her voice low.
— “I get it, you know. All the girls chase after you. Your locker’s stuffed with letters, chocolates…”

LingLing sighed, eyes falling.
— “Yeah… but I didn’t know I was going to kiss you that day. Actually, I…”

She fumbled for words, nervous, her fingers tugging at the hem of her sleeve.
— “I wanted to tell you. To find you again after our…”

Orm gave a short, humorless laugh, her glasses slipping further down her nose.
— “After you kissed me.”

LingLing flushed scarlet, unable to hold her gaze. She nodded, the tiniest but most honest of gestures.

A thick silence settled, heavy with everything left unsaid. Through the cracked door, the faint sounds of the cartoon still drifted from the living room—a cruel contrast to the suspended moment here.

Orm drew a deep breath, then stepped closer.
— “Then… say it now.”

LingLing inhaled, her voice barely more than a breath:
— “I… I liked you. But why did you run away from me?”

Orm’s head snapped up, her glasses askew.
— “Me? You’re the one who’s been avoiding me since that day.”

LingLing bit her lip, shame burning.
— “Because… because you left right after.”

Orm lowered her eyes, her fingers clenching tight around the sheet.
— “It was my first kiss…”

LingLing drew in a deep breath, her cheeks on fire.
— “Me too…”

A shy laugh slipped from both of them, fragile but sincere. Then calm returned, though it no longer held the same weight—it hummed now with expectation.

LingLing leaned in slightly, eyes skittish, lips hesitant.
— “You know… I know a way to… to get better.”

Orm blinked.
— “… Get better at what?”

LingLing finally dared to look straight into her eyes.
— “At kissing. You have to… practice.”

The blush rose instantly on Orm’s cheeks. She let out a nervous laugh.
— “Ling… you really…”

But she never finished. Because LingLing had already leaned in, just a few centimeters, enough for their breaths to mingle. This time, it wasn’t a stolen kiss, but a shared choice. Orm let go of all hesitation and leaned in too.

Their lips met, timid at first, then a little bolder. Nothing perfect, all uncertain, but achingly real.

When they drew apart, their foreheads stayed pressed together, their smiles still trembling.

— “So… we practice?” Orm whispered softly.

LingLing burst out in a nervous laugh.
— “Yes. But only with you.”

Orm held her gaze, her eyes gleaming behind her slipping glasses. Her fingers tightened gently around LingLing’s hand.
— “Good,” she murmured. “Because I want to be the only one.”

LingLing’s mouth fell open, surprise flaring, her cheeks burning hotter. Orm’s smile wavered, but she leaned closer, her voice lower now, almost a whisper:
— “Then… I’m your girlfriend now, okay?”

LingLing laughed again, but this time with the warmth of someone who had no wish to escape. She nodded.
— “Okay.”

The quiet returned, softer, steadier. Their lips found each other again, still hesitant but more certain now, guided by clumsy smiles. Their breaths mingled, warm against warm, noses brushing in fleeting touches both intimate and awkward.

LingLing drew back just a little, sitting on the edge of the bed, heart pounding wildly. Orm followed almost unconsciously, leaning forward until she straddled her. Their faces stayed close, flushed red, lips already calling to each other again.

This kiss lasted longer. Timid at first, then more eager. Their tongues brushed—hesitant, awkward, almost colliding before they found a fragile rhythm. Nothing perfect, but the raw sincerity of the moment mattered more than any technique.

Orm’s trembling hands settled on LingLing’s shoulders, slid timidly down her arms, then stalled, undecided. Beneath her fingers she felt the firmness of muscles honed through training, contrasting with the softness of her skin. Finally her hands found refuge at the nape of LingLing’s neck, clutching with clumsy possessiveness.

LingLing, breathless, didn’t pull away. She let herself sink into the heat, into the feverish tension making her heart race. Her own hands had wandered to Orm’s thighs, thumbs tracing small circles over the fabric of her skirt. She could feel Orm’s nerves beneath her touch—her body stiff with hesitation, yet unable to move away.

A soft gasp escaped LingLing, surprised by the intensity of such a simple touch. Orm’s grip instantly tightened on her neck, as though to make sure she wouldn’t slip away.

There was nothing childish about this kiss. It was raw, fevered, awkward—burning.

Then footsteps creaked in the hall: muffled laughter, floorboards groaning.
Orm froze, pulled back at once, and in a panic both sweet and frantic, pressed a quick kiss to LingLing’s forehead before retreating a step.

The door creaked. Pam appeared, Arhoung on her heels, a sly grin tugging at her lips.
— “You’re both red…”

LingLing nearly choked on her own saliva. Orm shoved her glasses up in a rush, her face scarlet. Arhoung blinked innocently, but Pam didn’t look fooled.

Orm met her sister’s sparkling gaze—a silent connection only big sisters share with their younger ones. A furrowed brow, a crooked smile: it was enough for Pam to understand she’d better not push further. Beside her, a drowsy Arhoung rubbed her eyes before curling up against her.

— “Alright, snack time,” Orm said in a deliberately neutral voice. “Downstairs, both of you. We’ll join you.”

Pam nodded and grabbed Arhoung’s hand as usual. The two of them disappeared down the stairs, their footsteps ringing cheerfully.

As soon as the door closed, LingLing collapsed backward, sinking into Orm’s pillows, arms spread like after a battle.
— “So embarrassing…” she muttered, cheeks still blazing.

From behind her glasses, Orm watched her sink into the cushions as though the room itself had turned into a refuge. LingLing’s cheeks still held a rosy glow, her hair mussed, her lips parted.

A familiar heat rose in Orm’s chest—the same burning she’d felt at the tournament, the night of their stolen kiss. She tried to look away, but her gaze always returned to her.

LingLing covered her face with her arm, a sigh slipping out somewhere between shame and amusement.
— “That was embarrassing…”

A smile tugged at Orm, almost tender. Her fingers gripped the arm of her glasses as if to stop herself from stepping closer.

I love her scent. That mix of laundry soap and training sweat, with something warm and reassuring… exactly what drove her mad.

Silence settled again, heavier than ever, yet anything but oppressive. In this too-familiar bedroom, it almost felt like a promise.

LingLing slowly pushed herself up, as though the silence itself had pulled her from a dream. Their gazes met—unbelievable that they had kissed with such fire only minutes before.

She lowered her eyes and noticed Orm’s fingers clutching nervously at the hem of her skirt. That tension spoke for itself: she was just as shaken.

LingLing inhaled, then rose. Her hesitant steps carried her to Orm. Without thinking, she lifted her arms and hugged her awkwardly. Orm jolted, then returned the embrace, stiff at first, then slowly melting into it.

She leaned down, her glasses brushing LingLing’s temple, and pressed a quick kiss to her right cheek.

LingLing froze a second, startled by the softness of it. The athlete in her had known rough contact, hearty slaps on the back after training, but never such simple tenderness—burning in its clumsy honesty.

She pulled back just enough to meet Orm’s eyes.
— “I have a competition soon… will you come cheer for me?” she asked, voice timid, almost pleading.

Orm didn’t look away. A fragile smile touched her lips, her fingers clutching tighter at her skirt.
— “Yes,” she whispered. “Because I’m your girlfriend.”

LingLing’s chest tightened, stronger than after any victory.

— “Come on, let’s go down,” Orm said. “Before the two troublemakers turn the living room upside down.”

They went down together. In the kitchen, Pam and Arhoung had already set out the glasses and poured the juice, but the cookies sat untouched on the counter—still out of reach for their small hands.

— “Finally… we’re hungry!” Pam huffed, faking offense.

Arhoung nodded solemnly, as if confirming:
— “Yes, we’re too small.”

Orm rolled her eyes, amused, and grabbed the plate. Minutes later, the four of them were seated around the coffee table, Uni stretched full-length at their feet.

Between sips of juice, Pam and Arhoung were already chattering about their project, voices rising and falling like a singsong.

Beneath the table, though, another language played out: LingLing’s hand brushing against Orm’s. Just a touch, timid at first, then steadier.

Orm didn’t pull away. Their fingers laced together discreetly, hidden from the younger girls’ eyes.

Their gazes met for barely a second—but it was enough. That taste of this snack would linger far longer than the cookies.

The gym still rang with applause. LingLing, drenched in sweat, had just won her kendo match. From the bleachers, Orm hadn’t taken her eyes off her silhouette, gripping the shinai until the very last second. When their eyes met, LingLing lifted her chin the faintest bit in her direction, a mischievous wink tugging at her lips.

Later, outside the gym, Orm was waiting.
— “You didn’t tell me it was so intense…” she murmured, cheeks still flushed from cheering louder than she meant to.
— “You cheered me on, didn’t you?” LingLing replied, handing her a water bottle.
Orm nodded, awkward.
— “Yes… maybe a little too much.”

Their laughter faded into the warmth of the evening.

A few days later, LingLing had insisted: “First date. No tatami, no swords.” Orm had suggested neutral ground—the neighborhood basketball hoop. But that turned out to be a mistake.

— “That’s not fair!” Orm protested, already out of breath as she tried to intercept the ball.
LingLing laughed, sending it cleanly through the hoop with infuriating ease.
— “Aren’t you supposed to score points on a date?”

Orm, mock-pouting, stared at her for a second… then, in a sudden burst of boldness, leaned in and stole a kiss. Startled, LingLing dropped the ball, which rolled beneath the hoop. Orm dashed after it, scored, and raised her arms like a champion.

LingLing, mouth ajar, tried to look serious—but ended up laughing.
— “Cheater!”

Orm stuck out her tongue, playful.
— “All strategies are fair, aren’t they?”

A few meters away, Pam and Arhoung, busy jumping rope, stopped to watch from the corner of their eyes. Their giggles quickly turned into a little chant, sing-song and teasing:
— “The lovebirds, the lovebirds!”

LingLing flushed crimson, Orm too, but neither pulled away.

From that day on, everything had taken on a softer hue, with Orm at her side. But soft didn’t mean easy. There had been high school, university… and the inevitable separation. Orm had left for London to study.They had broken up, convinced distance would erase everything.Yet not even distance, nor the harshest words, could touch feelings as pure as air.
London and Bangkok had never been strong enough to undo what their first kiss had already carved in stone.

And when they found each other again, it was as if nothing had truly shifted. Their hearts had never forgotten the way back to one another.

Years slipped by. LingLing had become an orthopedic doctor. The sun rose slowly, filtering through the curtains—but the most beautiful sight was lying right before her: Orm, stretched across her, their breaths mingling, fingers intertwined. On their ring fingers, two bands glimmered, silent testimony to the road they had walked together.

The alarm rang. Orm groaned, burying her face into LingLing’s neck.
— “Five minutes…” she grumbled.

LingLing laughed softly, patting her shoulder.
— “You always say that.”

Orm mumbled something incomprehensible and curled even closer. LingLing sighed, amused, before whispering into her ear:
— “I have excellent skills, Mrs. Kwong… even for getting you out of bed.”

She sealed her words with a kiss at the curve of Orm’s neck. Orm shivered, a quiet laugh escaping her lips, already defeated. Their hands searched beneath the blanket, twining as if refusing to let go of the night. Their breaths grew heavier, punctuated with muffled laughter, until the morning light slowly washed their whispers away.

Orm cracked one eye open, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.
— “And I… I’ve got very strong arguments to keep you in bed.”

Their laughter mingled with the dawn. Nothing was easy, no. But together, everything became possible.

Well… almost. Because a heavy noise sounded in the entryway, followed by a suspicious creak. Like someone dragging a wardrobe by hand… or a failed attempt at discretion.

Orm buried her face back into the pillow, smiling.
— “They’re at it again.”

LingLing rolled her eyes, sighing with fondness.
— “Arhoung must still be sulking. And Pam still thinks we don’t hear her sneaking around.”

Orm chuckled softly, sliding a hand over LingLing’s cheek.
— “They’ll never change.”

LingLing smiled despite herself. No, they never would. And maybe that was, in the end, their greatest certainty.

The front door creaked. Two shadows slipped down the hall, thinking themselves discreet. Pam, taller, dragged Arhoung by the hand. The younger one dragged her feet, lips pinched in a sulky pout.

— “Stop, you’re pulling too hard…” she muttered.
— “If I let go, you’ll turn back,” Pam whispered back.

From the bedroom, LingLing and Orm exchanged a knowing look. They could hear them perfectly.

In the living room, Pam finally let her girlfriend go. She leaned in at once, covering her with a rain of kisses—forehead, cheeks—until she stole one from her lips like a child trying to win back forgiveness.
— “Sorry,” she murmured between kisses. “Sorry, sorry, sorry…”

Arhoung tried to resist, her flushed face half-hidden against Pam’s shoulder. But by the third “sorry,” a smile slipped out.
— “You’re unbearable…” she groaned, half-laughing, half-peeved.

Pam puffed up proudly, triumphant in her victory, and hugged her tight.
— “But irresistible,” she added, laughing.

In the bedroom, Orm shook her head with a small smile.
— “See? Even grown up, they still put on the same theatrics.”

LingLing burst out laughing, burying her face into her shoulder.
— “And we’re doomed to hear them for the rest of our lives…”