Archive of Our Own ^beta

Bua was a lot of things: red-haired, blue-eyed, fabulous at dancing and exceptional at picking outfits, someone with a penchant for drama, somewhat lonely, somewhat mean, clingy, vulnerable, haughty — you name it. Chill about his newfound boyfriend he was not.

For example, currently he was preoccupied with finding out how many hickeys he could leave on Baabin’s neck. So far, the count was zero. Not for the lack of trying, though — he just couldn’t figure out how to make one. Kissing and sucking on skin got him nowhere as yet, and biting — as they had found out a few days prior — was more of Baabin’s thing.

Underneath him, Baabin squirmed with a huff and tried to give Bua an unconvincing little push. “Stop that,” he said, delightfully out of breath. “My parents can come upstairs any minute.”

Bua resurfaced from the enticing curve of Baabin’s neck to fix him with an unimpressed stare. “You sure about that? The restaurant seemed pretty busy when we got here.”

“Even more so! You know they might try to rope me into helping them if there are too many customers.”

“So paranoid,” Bua sulked as he slid off him. He couldn't help but stare at the place right behind Baabin's ear where his lips had been roaming just a moment ago. The skin there was sort of red, tender — maybe a hickey would appear later? Maybe it took time to develop, like with a polaroid photo. He prodded at the place with his finger, curious. Baabin hissed like a cat and rolled further away. Which wasn't very far considering how narrow his bed was.

“Let's go to my place next time,” Bua said, tugging Baabin closer by his t-shirt so that his neck was within Bua’s kissing range again.

“There isn't that much privacy over there either.”

“True, but at least my parents know what we're up to whenever I bring you over. They won't be just barging in.”

Baabin glanced at him from the corner of his eye, sheepish.

“They… know?”

“Of course they know, silly. They're not stupid. Or, well, they are, but not when it comes to this. You're the only guy I've ever allowed into my room. They can put two and two together.”

Baabin was silent for a beat, taking it in. Bua knew he liked that answer from the way his eyes got all shiny and the way his lips thinned, fighting a losing battle against a smile.

Too bad, the joy was short-lived.

“What about Phi Chian? You never allowed him in there?” Baabin asked, because of course, he couldn’t help himself. Bua sighed. Suddenly, it wasn’t just the two of them in this room anymore. Now there was also the ghost of Chian, who continued to live rent-free in Baabin’s head as a sort of not-quite-Bua’s-ex that Baabin, for some reason, still felt compelled to compete against. Bua had half a mind to bring up Fourmod out of spite, and make it four, but then it would probably start feeling a bit crowded in here.

“He's been over there, but not in my room,” he said. “Mostly, he'd just come to pick me up, and we would go hang out somewhere else. Siam or his place.”

Baabin hummed without looking him in the eyes. The corners of his mouth turned sulky.

Before meeting Baabin, Bua hadn’t really understood what cute aggression meant. He fully got it now. The mere sight of Baabin’s endearingly rosy and pouty hamster-like face made Bua want to squeeze the life out of him.

“Baa. Girl. Don’t you dare start sulking now. You were the one who brought him up in the first place. And I’m at your place instead of his right now, aren’t I?”

In the pause that followed, Bua made a lunge for an unmarred bit of skin peeking from underneath Baa’s oversized tee. An obnoxious wet kissing noise filled the room. Sometimes the best way to curb his fits of jealousy, Bua had found out, was an onslaught of excessive affection.

“Fine, fine, I’m sorry,” Baabin whined, but made no attempt to pull away this time. He circled his arms around Bua, hooked a leg over his and held him close. “Smells so nice,” he said, nuzzling into Bua’s hair with a contented little sigh. “What is that? New shampoo?”

“New hair wax. I was thinking of filming a review, you in? We can make a skit out of it.”

“Of course,” Baabin said eagerly, like it was a given. Which it was.

A few minutes later, things were getting sort of racy again with hands slipping under the clothes and the sounds becoming increasingly more obscene, the looming threat of Baabin’s parents forgotten. Unfortunately, right in the middle of a kiss with tongue, a loud clang of something — possibly a tower of bowls and plates — crashing somewhere downstairs made them spring apart, and Baabin had to apologise once more — this time for accidentally biting on Bua’s tongue.

They settled on their backs, side by side, slightly off-kilter, their legs dangling from the edge of the bed, and Baabin’s pink duvet bunched uncomfortably underneath them. With all the plush pillows scattered over the floor, his room looked like a battlefield.

The bitten tongue was stinging a little. Bua kept moving it around his mouth, trying to taste blood. It felt weird, but titillating — maybe something to ponder over later? All of a sudden, he thought of an article he had sent to Baabin over LINE a few weeks ago. It had that mortifyingly embarrassing millennial-esque title that Bua imagined would give a full-body cringe to any gay person around their age, something like How to: An Extensive and Handy (ha) Guide to Safe and Pleasurable Anal Sex. However, it was actually quite informative and answered all the questions he’d been too embarrassed even to look up online. Too bad that Baabin not only had left him on read that day, he hadn’t acknowledged the article at all. Not once in any of their conversation had he indicated opening the link. Bua had been tentatively considering giving him a nudge, but maybe the silence was an indication that Baabin just wasn’t ready for any of that.

Bua sighed. Horny and losing a staring contest with Phi Lisa.

Lisa from many of Baabin’s posters was looking at them with what Bua thought might be sympathy. Or pity. Back when they had just started fooling around in Baabin’s bedroom, he had thought that perhaps putting his hand down his boyfriend’s pants would be lowkey uncomfortable under Lisa’s piercing gaze, that perhaps he would have to ask Baabin to drape something over the posters before they got into it. However, he had never voiced that idea, for two reasons: firstly, it simply felt too disrespectful — she wasn’t their pet bird whose cage you’d cover with a blanket; secondly, in his imagination, Bua found her gaze to be sort of… approving? Like she was covertly cheering them on. He had fun picturing their idol as a sao Y, where the roles were reversed, and now it was he and Baabin who were performing for her entertainment.

Curiously, looking at Phi Lisa now reminded him of an idea he had thought of a few days ago.

“Hey,” he nudged Baabin, who was now lying on his stomach and scrolling through his Instagram feed. “Do you want to make a Spotify playlist together?”

“Uh… sure? I have this one with some songs I’ve liked recently, I can invite you, and you’ll add yours?”

“Not that kind of playlist. A lovers playlist,” Bua said, enjoying the blush creeping up Baabin’s face at the word lovers.

“How is it different from a regular shared playlist?”

“We add songs that remind us of each other.”

Baabin just stared at him, his mouth slightly open. Whether it was because he still wasn’t comprehending the idea or because he was too amazed by the sheer brilliance of it, Bua didn’t know, but he was impatient to start, and so he grabbed his phone (that during their earlier bed shenanigans got tossed away and stuck between the mattress and the nightstand), opened his Spotify profile and started fervently typing and clicking away.

First, he switched to an English keyboard and named the playlist. Lovesick Boys.

Then sent the collaboration link to Baabin over their LINE chat.

Then — and it had no business feeling this incredibly momentous — he added the very first song.

Lovesick Girls - BLACKPINK (added by buawaterlily)

As soon as it was done, Bua turned on his side to watch Baabin open the invitation link and discover the opening song to their playlist. Excited and anxious, he waited for signs of recognition on Baabin’s face.

And a couple of seconds later, he got it. The cute, confused frown on Baabin’s face gave way to what looked like an epiphany.

“It’s the first BLACKPINK song that we listened to together,” he said with awe.

And it sure was.

It had happened a few days after Baabin left the long-awaited BLACKPINK concert to make his botched attempt at confessing to Fourmod. Bua had been bullying him on Twitter over it relentlessly. Because at the time, he had found that entire situation kind of funny. Baabin, quite possibly, was the most pathetic person Bua had ever met. More pathetic than Chian, or Fourmod (okay, this one was debatable), or any of Bua’s classmates and acquaintances. At the same time, Bua just couldn’t help but feel bad for him and his pitiful, earnest, dog-like loyalty to Fourmod, who had been none the wiser about any of it. And so, although it had been tempting to mess with Baabin some more (after all, he was so lovely when he sulked), Bua had offered him some company. That day, they had smoothies and shared Bua’s airpods, listening in companionable silence to Phi Lisa sing to them, no love letters, no x and o’s, no love never, my exes know, no diamond rings that set in stone, to the left, better left alone.

“After the song ended,” Baabin continued, “you turned to me and said: Phi Lisa asked me to pass something on to you. And then you smiled at me.”

There was a lump in Bua’s throat. He had no idea how it got there.

“It was the first nice thing that happened to me that entire week. I think I may have started liking you back then, I just didn’t realise it at the time.”

I kinda sorta maybe want to spend the rest of my life with you, Bua thought.

“Wow,” he said out loud.

“What?” Baabin asked innocently, like he didn’t casually deliver something so utterly devastating.

“You win this one. Here’s your prize,” Bua said and pecked him lightly on the lips.

“I didn’t know we were competing,” Baabin said, instantly reaching for another kiss.

But Bua knew that if he indulged him right now, they wouldn't get anything done. And he was mighty curious to find out what the first song that came to Baabin’s mind whenever he thought of Bua was.

“Nuh-huh, princess,” he said, pushing Baabin away firmly. “It’s your turn to add a song to our playlist.”

Baabin hummed, looking at the ceiling in deep concentration. “Well, it has to be Phi Lisa, right?”

“Why are you asking me? You’re the one adding it.”

Baabin opened his Spotify, angling the screen away so that Bua couldn’t peek. “Done,” he said a minute later, evidently proud of his choice. Feeling suddenly sceptical, Bua followed suit and opened the app to see what his song choice was.

Moonlit Floor (Kiss Me) - LISA (added by BAABIN)

“Huh,” Bua said, scrolling through the lyrics in his head. “I’m neither green-eyed nor French, but thanks, I guess.”

An angry blush appeared on Baabin’s cheeks. “That’s not… Not this part!” he stuttered.

“I know, Baa, I know. I’m just messing with you. Uh… Bonjour, bébé?”

“Damn,” Baabin said in such an unexpectedly perfect imitation of Lisa that both of them burst into laughter.

Bua mentally patted himself on the head. The lovers' playlist really was a brilliant idea, he thought as he and Baabin rolled around the bed, unable to stop laughing.

“Right. My turn now,” Bua said when they calmed down a bit. He feigned thinking about it, even though he already knew what song he wanted to add next.

number one girl - ROSÉ (added by buawaterlily)

Tell me that you need me, tell me that I’m loved. Tell me that I’m worth it, and that I’m enough. I need it and I don’t know why, this late at night.

A hot wave of shame and regret came over him as soon as the song appeared in the playlist. That was too vulnerable, too humiliating, too fresh. What was he thinking, deciding to pick at this wound that had yet to close? His fingers hovered over the song, itching to delete it in a couple of clicks and pretend it never happened.

Except Baabin was already looking at his phone screen, so it was too late now. Might as well own up to it.

“Well, khun faen?” Bua said, trying to sound nonchalant, like he didn’t just now practically cut himself open and invite Baabin to look at the mess. “Am I? The number one girl in your heart?”

“Of course,” Baabin replied, reaching out to hold Bua’s hand and to caress it gently with his thumb. Bua could barely look him in the eyes, and not just because of shame. There was just something so fervent and all-consuming about Baabin’s gaze. Bua had never met another person like that. Being exposed to Baabin’s earnest, lovesick, puppy-eyed scrutiny felt so much more intense than doing a TikTok live for an audience of hundreds of people.

Truly, only Baabin could make him this embarrassed and shy, Bua thought as he put a hand over Baabin’s face in a vain attempt to turn it away. “Alright, whatever, loverboy. Let’s listen to our playlist now.”

“There are only three songs in it, though.”

“Just right. I have to go home soon anyway. Not that anyone there is worried about where I am, but still.”

Took them a bit to find either of their airpod cases in the mess of Baabin’s bedsheets. In the end, they shared Bua’s. They lay side by side, facing each other, their pinkies linked, toes of their bare feet touching. Lovesick Girls made them giddy and goofy; they mouthed the lyrics as they made silly faces at each other and attempted to do the song’s choreo without getting up from the bed. Then Kiss Me kicked off, and Bua felt obliged to peck Baabin on his cheek or nose whenever Phi Lisa would sing the titular line. If it were possible to get drunk on kisses, Baabin was fully intoxicated by the end of the song. At last, number one girl started playing. It was a hard listen. For them both, Bua could tell. He held eye contact as he mouthed along to I’d do anything to make you want me. A flash of pain that contorted Baabin’s face was the last thing Bua saw before being pulled into a hug so tight it knocked all the breath out of him. They finished listening to the song like this, intertwined like two strands of a red thread, faces hidden, hands stroking each other’s backs.

Silence rang in Bua’s ears when their newborn playlist reached its end. He wanted so badly to add at least one more track.

But simply none of the songs Bua knew were intense enough for that enormous and overwhelming something he felt right now for the person holding Bua in his arms.

Since Spotify gave no notification whenever a song was added to a collaborative playlist, they agreed to text each other the 🎵 emoji if either of them added a song and could not wait until the other discovered it organically. In practice, Bua was the one who did it the most because he needed a reaction out of Baabin immediately. Baabin, on the other hand, added his songs sneakily, like he wanted to check just how often Bua opened the playlist (the answer was: embarrassingly often).

Once they got the hang of it, it was hard to stop adding songs. Actually, it was kind of bizarre just how many songs in Bua’s everyday life — in TikTok edits on his FYP, on the radio blaring from an open window of a stranger’s car, in clothing shops at the mall — seemed to fit so perfectly his and Baabin’s relationship. It’s as if the universe conspired and aligned to help the two of them grow their little playlist, which Bua got into a habit of calling their child. Born and bred from his own womb, he would sometimes add much to Baabin’s absolute mortification.

Then, at some point, their playlist turned into a conversation.

There was that one time, for example, when Mae came to visit him for a few days. Ma was not thrilled and, inevitably, it ended up in yet another shouting match between the two of them. He tried to play a peacemaker for all of five minutes before giving up and hiding in his room, feeling absolutely wretched. There, on his phone, Bua opened his LINE chat with Baabin and stared, forlorn, at the string of silly stickers they had exchanged earlier that day. He wanted some comfort, but he didn’t quite know how to fish for it. Sending a sad sticker and prompting Baabin to ask what was wrong would probably be the best course of action. In the end, as if by a reflex, he opened their playlist instead, where he added a whole bunch of songs in a row — every depressing and self-deprecating song he could think of at that moment. He had set the rule about adding songs that reminded them of each other, and he was the first one to break it, for the songs he added reminded Bua of himself.

Baabin, predictably, was very confused.

Bua 🪷 (20:32): 🎵

ibaaa (20:35): ?

ibaaa (20:35): what was that about lol

ibaaa (20:35): r u ok?

Bua 🪷 (20:36): Mae came to visit. you can probably guess how well that went

ibaaa (20:36): they’re fighting again?

ibaaa (20:37): do you want me to come over?

Bua 🪷 (20:39): it’s fine. can we facetime instead?

ibaaa (20:39): sure. one sec, let me get to my room

They spent around half an hour on a video call that was cut short because Bua was dangerously close to tears throughout it. Seeing Baabin's lovely, dimly lit face surrounded by Phi Lisa's photos did cheer him up somewhat. But more than anything, Bua wanted to be held. Baabin's hugs were kind of addicting. With nearly unbearable longing, Bua thought of the comforting warmth of Baabin’s body, unreachable through the phone. Perhaps, he should’ve taken up on Baabin’s offer to drop by, after all.

He was busy drying his tears on a pillow when a tiny ding of a message came carrying just the 🎵 emoji.

On My Shoulder - Tilly Birds (added by BAABIN)

There For You - Troye Sivan (added by BAABIN)

It's Okay Not To Be Alright - PP Krit (added by BAABIN)

Take a break if you’re tired, you don’t have to carry it. Just know I’ll be right by your side.

The songs just kept coming — it was honestly sort of impressive that Baabin could think of so many similar-themed songs on the spot — and soon enough, Bua’s cheeks were wet again. This time, however, those were happy tears. Feeling as light as a feather, he wrapped Baabin’s comforting affection around himself like a well-worn, snug piece of his favourite clothing.

รู้งี้เป็นแฟนกันตั้งนานแล้ว (Safe Zone) - Billkin, PP Krit (added by buawaterlily)

And when they met the next day — Baabin, of course, brought him papaya salad and a hug — and listened to the playlist together in Bua’s favourite corner at the mall, it sort of felt like he was scrolling through one of their chats. Most of his parents’ fights had blurred into one, but he would always remember this particular one whenever he’d hit this point in their playlist. He would remember reaching out and having Baabin’s warm hand reach back, his soft voice over their video call saying it’s going to be okay, again and again, until he was sure Bua believed him.

It was very likely that Baabin would be late for their nail salon appointment — seats booked next to each other and all — due to a last-minute trip to the temple with his parents. There was an entire barrage of apologetic messages and crying stickers from him in their LINE chat, which Bua scrolled through as he sat in the shade at the little staircase amphitheatre that was hugging one of the mall’s entrances. It was kind of sweet. So sweet that he couldn’t even bring himself to be mad, even though his makeup was literally melting off his face.

Still, he decided to give Baabin a bit of a scare.

Bua 🪷 (15:42): you better make it, or I’m asking Chian to do it

ibaaa (15:42): nice try

ibaaa (15:43): I know he doesn’t have time. isn’t it the entire reason we’re going to a salon instead

ibaaa (15:43): but I will make it, I promise

The promise was followed by a sticker of a many-legged creature running. Bua replied with an angry face one — just to keep Baabin on his toes.

Practically on autopilot, he opened Instagram. His eyes immediately landed on a tantalising green circle of Chian’s Close Friends story. It was nice to click on it knowing that nothing in there was created with a sole purpose to get under his skin. That no one was playing fucked up mind games anymore. That it was just that — a private little corner where Chian bragged about his oddball of a boyfriend on a daily basis.

Sure enough, the first thing Bua saw when he opened Chian’s story was Fourmod’s grinning face. The grin, however, disappeared as soon as he realised that he was being filmed. He covered his face with one hand, using the other to try to stop Chian from filming. His nails, Bua noticed, were bare.

The next story item contained a poll. Apparently, the two of them were hanging out in the same area and couldn’t decide where to go for lunch, so they enlisted the help of Chian’s close friends list. The choice was between a hotpot place nearby and the kluay kluay dessert shop across from the Kantima nail salon at LIDO. Going to the latter with Chian and Fourmod would inevitably bring deeply unpleasant memories of the day he had tagged along on their date under the guise of wanting to get his nails done, and how rancid had been the vibes throughout it, and how it had ended with Fourmod finally getting fed up with being stuck in his no-status limbo. The desserts there were fire, though.

He clicked on the first choice since, privately, he had already made up his mind to crash their date once again — not maliciously and just for a bit, until Baabin got here. Wouldn’t it be fine if all of them were good now, after all? Still, he wasn’t one hundred per cent certain of it, and that’s exactly why he facetimed Chian instead of just texting him — so that Fourmod could also get to have a say in the matter.

Seconds later, Chian picked up his call. He looked a bit taken aback, which wasn’t all that surprising. They hadn’t been calling each other much — if at all — like they used to. The thought made Bua somewhat wistful, but he shooed it away. This was a can of worms he couldn’t allow himself to open right now.

Fourmod appeared in the frame also, hooking his chin over Chian’s shoulder to see who was calling.

“Bua,” Chian said. Behind him, Fourmod gave Bua a friendly little wave. He didn’t look bothered at all.

“Chian, Phi Fourmod, hi. You guys are near LIDO, right? Listen, I’m waiting for Baa — we were going to do some shopping before getting our nails done, except, well, he’s late.” He deployed his signature pout in hopes it would instantly melt their hearts. “Anyway, what I’m saying is — I need to get some place with AC, like, right now, before my face melts off. You guys are about to have lunch, yeah? Can I go with? Just for a bit. I swear I’ll be out of your hair the minute Baa shows up.”

“Um,” Chian looked over at Fourmod. The latter gave him a small nod. “Well… Sure, only we’re still undecided where to go.”

“The hotpot place is winning,” Bua said readily, even though it wasn’t. He saw Fourmod check his phone.

“He’s right,” he confirmed.

It was a tie, actually, but thankfully, Chian chose to believe their word. Bua could’ve sworn that right before the video call ended, Fourmod gave him a conspiratorial wink.

Once they were seated at the restaurant (Chian and Fourmod side by side, Bua across from them — a complete mirror of their disaster third wheel date from months ago), it became very clear whose idea it had been to add the hotpot restaurant as a poll option. The amount of meat Fourmod ordered could’ve fed an entire extended family. Soon enough, he was busy dipping the slices into broth. Only every third piece ended up on Chian’s plate, but Chian didn’t seem to mind.

Bua got himself a cold, fruity drink and politely refused Fourmod’s offering. “Thanks, but I’m about to bounce soon anyway. Besides, Baa and I will probably go grab something to eat too.”

“So you guys are getting your nails done today?” Chian asked.

“Yeah, since our resident nail artist is sooo busy. Speaking of, maybe you two wanna join us? We booked our seats beforehand, but I’m sure they can fit you in as well.”

“Doubt it. The place’s been crazy popular lately, I think some big-name influencer posted about it somewhere.”

“I swear it wasn’t me.”

Chian rolled his eyes. “If you say so, khun influencer,” he said with a big smile. The fondness in his voice was familiar, but it had been quite a while since Bua had heard it directed at him. Suddenly, he was overcome by a wave of nostalgia and longing so intense that it echoed in his chest as an actual physical ache. He really missed Chian’s easy companionship being a part of his everyday life. Actually, maybe he could open this can of worms, after all. He’d been finding it all a bit unfair — the arrangement the four of them settled in, unspoken. Why were Fourmod and Baabin allowed to hang out together as if nothing had happened, but Bua and Chian were not? Technically, of course, no one said anything about it not being allowed, but Bua could feel that it was sort of frowned upon. That it would probably make Fourmod spiral again, despite knowing that Chian would always choose him. Perhaps, Bua was channelling some of Fourmod’s paranoia when he thought that even bringing this all up would look suspicious and raise some loaded questions. But their arrangement seemed like a jenga tower to him — one wrong look or move, and it all would come crashing down again.

Well, at least he and Chian were on good terms again. He could settle for that for now.

For Bua, making up with Chian came with one unforeseen consequence. Always an only child, he now apparently had an older brother. All his romantic intentions stripped away, it seemed like Chian made it his mission to fully live up to their phi-nong status. His teasing had lost its flirty undertones. And then there was also nagging.

Case in point —

“Oh, hey,” Chian said when their conversation hit a pause. “I’ve been meaning to ask for literal ages: what was up with that one TikTok you posted right before the Random Dance?”

“Which one?”

“The one about your new look?”

“Ah. That.” Bua shifted uncomfortably in his seat. It had been weeks since that entire thing happened. He thought — or hoped, rather — that everyone had forgotten about it already, especially since the video itself had been long gone now. “Nothing serious, just a brief crash out. Someone got into my head. It’s whatever, I’m over it.”

But maybe his tone wasn’t convincing enough, because Chian’s frown deepened, and he pressed on, “Who did?”

Well, the last thing Bua needed was Chian kicking Baabin’s sorry ass in an alley behind the nail salon, so he tried his best to look his most casual and unaffected as he shrugged and said, “No one you know personally.”

Chian gave a surly nod, clearly unsatisfied with the answer. This interrogation could've ended right there and then, except —

“It was Baa,” Fourmod said matter-of-factly without looking up from his plate of food.

The speed with which Bua turned to look at him, shocked, made something crack in his neck. By the looks of it, the same was true for Chian. They turned in unison, in fact — it felt a bit like a distant echo of their duet choreo days, when they would do a lot of things synchronised without meaning to.

“How do you know?” Bua asked, although the answer was kind of obvious. There was only one person apart from himself that Fourmod could've gotten this information from.

“Huh?” Fourmod paused slurping the broth. “From Baa, of course.”

“He told you?”

“Yeah. Already said to him that he’s a shithead for that,” Fourmod said and saluted Bua with a piece of pork meat.

“Uh…Thanks?” Bua replied, kind of touched by Fourmod’s unexpected and somewhat awkward, but genuine solidarity. It eased some of the tension Bua had been holding onto whenever he would find himself in Fourmod’s company.

“Now, hold on a second,” Chian interjected, unwilling to let this go. “What exactly did Nong Baa do?”

Before Bua could wave it off as something insignificant, Fourmod swallowed his mouthful of food and said, “Called him a weird-looking white boy.” Then, after noticing the expression on Chian’s face, he quickly added, “He was just being a dumbass. I told him it’s the stupidest shit he’s ever pulled, and he agreed.”

Debatable, Bua thought. The stupidest shit Baabin had ever pulled had to be him leaving the BLACKPINK concert to shoot his shot with Fourmod. It was unclear, however, whether Fourmod knew about it at all, and it wasn’t Bua’s place to tell, so he kept it to himself.

Out loud, he remarked, “That’s not it exactly. He just said I wasn’t his type. Which we all know was obviously a lie, so drop it, Chian.”

“Period,” Fourmod said, and that was that.

A few minutes later, Bua’s phone finally pinged with a message from Baabin.

ibaaa (16:33): I’M ON MY WAY 🏃💨

ibaaa (16:33): where r u

Bua 🪷 (16:34): shabu place near lido

Bua 🪷 (16:34): having lunch with Phi Fourmod and his annoying boyfriend

Bua 🪷 (16:34): I’ll send you the location

ibaaa (16:35): [having lunch with Phi Fourmod and his annoying boyfriend] Phi Chian??

Bua 🪷 (16:35): does Phi Fourmod have another boyfriend I don’t know about??

ibaaa (16:35): 😅

Judging by how out of breath Baabin was by the time he got to their table, he quite literally ran here from where his parents dropped him off, as if he thought Bua needed saving from Chian and Fourmod’s company. Or maybe he just couldn’t wait to see Bua, since the very first thing he did once he arrived was lean down and plant a quick kiss on Bua’s cheek.

“Ew,” Fourmod said, even though Chian had been doing the same thing to him barely five minutes ago, and he didn't seem to mind that much.

“You look stunning,” Baabin leaned in to whisper in Bua’s ear and gently squeezed his knee under the table. Bua felt a zap of electricity run up his spine.

“You look handsome as well,” Bua murmured as he turned to give Baabin a thorough once-over.

“Hello?” Fourmod said.

“I’m sorry for being late,” Baabin said, rubbing his face on Bua’s shoulder like a cat. “We blew a tire on our way back.” Then he slapped his backpack that looked like it would burst at the seams any minute from all the things stuffed in there. “I brought all the outfits you picked.”

“Good boy.”

“Aren’t you guys late for your manicure session or something?” Fourmod asked, one of his ever so expressive eyebrows arched. Next to him, Chian pretended — not very convincingly — to be completely engrossed in his meal, but Bua could see him hide a smile.

On the first floor of the nail salon, they consulted with a Tarotist on what designs they should pick. Well, Baabin did, since Bua already had something in mind. The soundtrack playing in their ears as they were getting their nails done was the Lovesick boys playlist. Which, unfortunately, wasn’t long enough yet to last the entire session even with those few songs Bua and Baabin added, one-handed, as their nail art masters sculpted wonders on their nails. Again?, Bua asked when the playlist hit an end. Baabin stared at him dreamily for quite some time before replying, and Bua knew that he, too, was possessed by a vivid memory of their first kiss that they had shared not far from where they were right now.

The ladies who were in charge of their nails truly outdid themselves. Bua took dozens of photos once he and Baabin paid and left the salon. Now he had trouble picking which ones to post, as one did, when there were fifteen nearly identical, but still slightly different photos of the same thing in your camera roll.

“Fancy trying out the new dessert shop down the road? I think it opened last week or something,” Baabin said as soon as both of them finished showing off their nails via Instagram stories.

“The one with a capybara mascot? Hell yeah. I think they serve traditional Thai sweets, too. What are you in the mood for?”

“Hmm.” Baabin’s eyes twinkled mischievously. “Bua loi?”

Bua slapped him lightly on the shoulder. “Cheeky.”

Afterwards, they spent a couple of hours filling Bua’s TikTok drafts with videos, running back and forth between the little square where they did the filming, and the mall where they changed their outfits. How nice it would be to have a third person helping them out with all these technicalities. Too bad, neither Fourmod nor Chian would probably ever agree to play that role for them. Although perhaps, if Bua asked nicely… Batted eyelashes at them and everything… He’d have Baabin utilise his most lethal puppy eyes as well. Bua was fairly certain the two of them could get anyone to agree to anything if they were to maximise their joint adorability. He filed that thought away for later, for when all four of them would meet in person next time — which, frankly, wasn’t too often.

Since both of them were kind of exhausted after all the challenges they managed to film in a day, they decided to postpone their shopping spree to another time, and only visited a couple of stores selling stickers, pins and various small trinkets. The last place they went to was teeming with people, mostly tourists. Bua held Baabin’s hand as he made his way through the crowd to get to one stand or another, and still nearly lost him a couple of times. Right when he was about to suggest leaving, Baabin said, wait for me outside, and disappeared into the crowd before Bua could ask any questions.

Ten minutes later, he materialised at the store’s entrance, where Bua was waiting for him. In his hand, he was holding a necklace with a bronze flower pendant.

“I saw you looking at it earlier, so I got it for you,” Baabin said. “Do you like it?”

“I’ll decide after I try it on,” Bua replied, even though privately he already made up his mind that this would be one of his go-to pieces of jewellery. He held out his hand, expecting Baabin to drop the necklace in his palm, but he wasn’t in a hurry to let Bua have it.

“Can I be the one to put it on you?” Baabin asked, his eyes shiny with anticipation.

“Uh, sure?”

Bua shivered as the cold metal of the pendant touched his bare skin right above the low neckline of his shirt. Baabin struggled with fastening the clasp for nearly a minute — his breath sounded somewhat frustrated as it tickled the back of Bua’s neck. Once he was done, at last, he opened the front camera on his phone, put his chin on Bua’s shoulder and outstretched his hand so that both of them were in the frame.

“I do like it. It’s very pretty,” Bua said softly, watching his reflection run his fingers over the smooth flower petals.

“It is,” Baabin agreed. He wasn’t looking at the pendant at all.

This quiet, intimate moment was fleeting, however, for the next moment panic settled in as Baabin discovered that he had lost one of his favourite BLACKPINK pins in that crowd earlier in the store. Bua sympathised, but not enough to go back in there and help him look for it, and so Baabin darted off on his own, yelling over his shoulder that he'd be back in a moment. Bua hid from the sun in the shadow of a column, where he opened his own front camera to snap some selfies showcasing his new necklace while he was waiting for Baabin to come back.

A few minutes in, he got an unpleasant feeling that he was being watched.

He looked around and sure enough, there was some guy watching him. The guy stood a good few meters away, one foot in the sun, the rest of him in the shadow. Probably a tourist from another province, judging by a camera around his neck, his money belt with lots of little pockets and a tacky, bright red t-shirt with gigantic text in white spelling I ❤️ BANGKOK. He looked a bit lost.

Being stared at — whether because of his distinctly non-Thai features or because people found him attractive or both — was something Bua was accustomed to, so it didn’t freak him out that much. If he wanted to be left alone, breaking eye contact usually did the trick.

Not this time, though.

“Nong? Excuse me, do you speak Thai?” the stranger asked him after approaching closer. When Bua nodded, he exhaled with visible relief. “Oh, whew. Can you please help me out?”

“Depends on what you need?”

“Just some directions, that’s all. It’s — er — it’s my first time in Bangkok. I’m supposed to meet a friend somewhere around the park entrance in, like, half an hour.” He heaved a frustrated sigh. “Except my phone died and I left my charger back at my hostel. No idea how to get anywhere without it.”

He waved his old, outdated Android phone with a cracked screen and pressed the power button a few times to illustrate the point. Bua could sympathise. One time, he had accidentally forgotten his phone at home, and it felt like he’d been missing a limb the entire day. He could not fathom how people used to go about their everyday lives without having a smartphone at hand at all times.

“Um, sure,” he said and turned to wave vaguely south. “It’s that way. I’d say it’s slightly more than half an hour away, but if you walk fast or catch a tuk-tuk or a bike, you might make it.”

“A bike! How did I not think of that?” The guy slapped himself on the forehead, laughing. “Anyway, thank you for the help.”

“No problem,” Bua replied, expecting him to turn and dash in the direction he was given. The man did no such thing and continued instead to study Bua’s face.

Bua raised an eyebrow. “Anything else?”

“Are you, like, a celebrity or something?” the guy asked. “An actor? Were you in a Y series, by any chance? I swear I know you from somewhere.”

“Oh,” Bua said, slightly taken aback. “Well, no, but I do have a relatively popular TikTok channel? It’s mostly dance covers, challenges, some product reviews. Maybe that’s where you know me from.”

“That must be it!” He snapped his fingers. “Well… Thanks again, and good luck with your TikToks. Banger outfit, by the way.”

“Thanks, Phi,” Bua said, his hands reaching down by reflex to smooth out the skirt he had changed into for the last TikTok he and Baabin had filmed. He couldn’t help but bask in the praise just a little bit.

For a split second, it looked like the stranger was going to say something else. Then, for whatever reason, he changed his mind, waved Bua goodbye and left. No way he was going to make it in time for his meeting, Bua thought as he watched him walk away, unhurried.

Meanwhile, from behind him came the telltale jingly sound of Baabin’s innumerable charms, pins and keychains rattling against each other as he walked.

“Pin successfully found?” Bua asked, turning to meet him.

“Yeah. Who was that?”

“No idea. He asked for directions. Phone dead and all.”

“Plenty of Thai folks around, and yet he asked the one who looks like a foreigner?”

Bua faltered. The worst thing was, Baabin sort of had a point.

“Now that you mentioned it, he did ask me if I was famous.”

“He definitely knew who you were,” Baabin said, getting more and more worked up with each second. “And he legged it as soon as he saw me coming because he’s obviously seen me in your videos.”

“I don’t know about it, Baa,” Bua said, even though what Baabin was saying seemed quite likely.

For a while, they walked in silence, the atmosphere between them tense. Desperately wanting to break it, Bua brushed his hand against Baabin’s and was relieved when Baabin caught it and laced their fingers together.

“Wear my jacket?” Baabin asked out of the blue. He was indeed sporting one despite the heat: a roomy, slightly retro-looking windbreaker in black, green and white.

“Girl, be serious,” Bua whined. “I’m already sopping wet from sweat, I’m not wearing your damn jacket.”

“Please?”

“Absolutely not.”

They were still holding hands, except Baabin’s grip suddenly became slack. Bua swung their linked hands back and forth and hummed the chorus to Lisa’s Rockstar, trying to get Baabin to join in, but he didn’t. For him to ignore Phi Lisa so blatantly and disrespectfully — that must’ve been one hell of a sulk.

“Oh my god, okay, fine!” Bua exclaimed. “Give me your stupid jacket. But you’re going to answer to my parents if I die of heat stroke.”

The mopey pout on Baabin’s face instantly morphed into a wide-eyed panic. “No, but if you’re too hot, then you — you don’t have to,” he mumbled hastily.

“Baabin. Shut up and give me the jacket.”

Since Bua was taller and ganglier, Baabin’s few sizes too big jacket was only slightly too big on him. Actually, it fit him quite nicely. The minute Bua wished he could see himself in the mirror, Baabin, as though he read Bua’s thoughts, chirped fit check and dragged him by the hand to stand in front of a high, tinted window of a nearby building.

“It looks good on you,” Baabin said, his eyes sliding hungrily up and down their reflection, settling briefly first on their joined hands, then on the necklace he had bought for Bua, then on Bua donned in his windbreaker.

“It does,” Bua agreed and saw Baabin’s reflection beam with joy.

Baabin remained in high spirits all the way to Bua’s home, where they agreed he’d spend the night. The moment they reached the doorstep, however, he froze on the spot, wearing an expression of mild worry on his face.

“What now?” Bua asked him.

“Last time we were at my place, you mentioned — you said that your parents know. About us, I mean. Are they, like… okay with it?”

Bua cocked his head at him.

“Baa,” he said. “My parents are two lesbians.”

“No, I know that, I meant… Are they okay that it’s — well, that it’s me?”

“They don’t know you that well. I don’t talk to them about you.” He took Baabin by the arm and practically dragged him inside. “Ma sees you come and go, and at some point I think she told Mae about it. They do love some hot gossip when they aren’t fighting.”

Just as he said it, they walked past the bar island where Ma was idly wiping drinking glasses, her eyes already slightly pink. Baabin gave her a timid little wai as Bua continued dragging him through the parlour. She nodded at them, completely unfazed.

“He’s spending the night!” Bua yelled over his shoulder when they passed her, just to make sure no one would bother them.

“Shout if you need anything!” she yelled back at him. Bua really hoped that by anything she meant snacks and an extra blanket and not whatever his mind immediately jumped to.

The next hour or so, they spent lounging on Bua’s bed, surrounded by greasy, savoury food they’d stolen from the kitchen, arguing over which TikTok should be released into the wild from Bua’s many, many drafts. Mantra dance cover won — mostly because both found it hilarious that in the background of them dancing there were two women very obviously having some petty fight that had culminated in a slap just as Jennie sang pretty girls don’t do drama, unless we wanna, it’ll be depending on the day. Then, after the video was successfully posted, they went live for a short while. It was mostly just their light-hearted bickering, but legions of shippers in Bua’s live audience seemed to enjoy that kind of thing immensely.

“I’ve sent you some clips,” Bua said after their live was over, the two of them sprawled lazily on Bua’s bed like a couple of cats. “Learn these as soon as possible, ‘kay? I want to film and post them before the hype dies down.”

Baabin gave only a noncommittal little hum, like he was barely listening. He was practically glued to his phone; Bua tilted his head to see what it was that got him so laser-focused.

It turned out, he was camping in the comments of Bua’s latest TikTok video, scrolling through names, profile pictures and what their owners were saying. His brows were knitted once again. Bua had half a mind to tease Baabin by suggesting he should start including retinol serum face masks in his skin care routine lest he develop premature frown lines. He decided not to, for the vibes were a bit weird. Something was going on in Baabin’s head, and Bua knew it couldn’t have been good. He had a gut feeling that Baabin was searching for the guy from earlier.

Looks like his meticulous search was unsuccessful, though: after a while, Baabin heaved a frustrated sigh and closed the app altogether. Bua was still watching him, curious. Oblivious to it, Baabin opened Instagram instead and hit the circle of Fourmod’s stories. A silly looping video of Fourmod trying to climb a utility pole filled the screen. The frown melted off Baabin’s face almost instantly.

Bua felt a stab of what he suspected might have been jealousy. Funny how just a few hours ago he’d been so relieved to not be at odds with Fourmod anymore, only to find himself disliking the guy all over again. First Chian, now Baabin — would Bua always have to vie with him for the same person's attention?

“Say, Baa,” Bua prompted. “If Phi Fourmod and I were stuck in a house on fire, who would you rush in to save first?”

Baabin looked up from his phone, confused.

“Huh?”

Bua patiently repeated the question, even though he was pretty sure Baabin had heard it the first time.

“And where is Phi Chian in this situation?”

“He’s already out of the house, but he’s in no condition to save anyone. Critical burns, they rushed him into the ER. Now answer.”

“Why is both of you not an option?”

“Have you seen yourself? You’re not saving us both at the same time, Baa.”

“You don’t know that. Adrenaline rush makes a person lots stronger — I remember that from our biology class.”

“Assume that it’s a lie and a myth. Which one of us are you saving first?”

“Well, it depends.”

“On what.”

“Well, where are you both in terms of being close to the exit? I’ll save the one who’s closest to it first.”

“We’re in the same room. Same distance. Stop looking for loopholes and answer the damn question.”

The way Baabin looked at him — pleading and lost, like he didn’t know what he had done to deserve this interrogation — felt like he’d rather be the one in a burning house right now than answer Bua. Still, he gave it a thought. The gears, it seemed, were turning in his poor little head as he stared at a wall in deep concentration, possibly imagining in vivid detail the dire situation where two of his favourite people were stuck in a hypothetical house on fire.

Finally, he said, “I guess I would still try to save you both. And if I failed, we would just burn there together, all three of us.”

“What the hell, Baabin. That’s dark.”

Baabin shrugged, as if saying, well, you asked. There was an awkward pause.

“Are you upset?” Baabin said, reaching down to lace their fingers together.

He could've easily lied and said exactly what Bua wanted to hear. But he didn't. Bua wasn't quite sure how he felt about that.

“No, my little coconut, I'm not upset.”

Maybe his face gave it away — that he was lying, and Baabin sensed it. His face pinched with worry, he climbed on top of Bua and nuzzled into his neck, breathing him in deeply, even though Bua self-consciously thought that after a day out in the city, there was probably not a trace of body lotion or perfume scent on his body, only sweat.

“You,” Baabin mumbled into his skin. “I would save you.”

Hands fisted in the folds of Baabin’s shirt, Bua pressed him closer. His smell, the warmth of him and a trail of sniff kisses he was leaving up Bua’s neck were so overwhelming that Bua felt himself on a dangerous verge of crying. It’d be too embarrassing, though, and definitely ruin the mood, so he focused on kissing whatever part of Baabin his lips could reach — which was mostly his hair. He inhaled the honey-sweet scent of Baabin’s strawberry & kiwi shampoo until he started to feel light-headed, delirious. He wondered if this was what being high was like.

A few heated minutes in, Bua abruptly snapped out of it. His skirt rode up his torso and was now bunched up uncomfortably between their bodies. Baabin, fully aroused, was in the meantime actively trying to get himself off by grinding against Bua’s thigh. The little noises he was making were lovely. Still, Bua tapped him on the arm to get him to stop.

“Baa,” he said, momentarily shocked by how coarse his voice sounded. “We are not having sex until I take a shower first. I feel gross.” His bladder reminded him of the amount of sodas and bubble tea he had consumed throughout the day, and so he added, “I also really need to pee.”

Baabin, completely apathetic to his plea, only tried to kiss him on the mouth.

“Baa, seriously, let me go. I'm going to piss myself, and it's not going to be pretty.”

“Everything you do is pretty,” Baabin said with such easy conviction it tugged at Bua's heart.

“We're talking about me pissing in my bed, hello? You little weirdo.”

It took some begging and whining, but eventually Baabin did roll off of him, although he looked like it required unimaginable effort to do so. The last thing Bua thought he saw before disappearing to his small adjacent bathroom was Baabin opening their latest TikTok once again and proceeding straight to the comment section.

After a quick fifteen-minute shower, Bua walked back into the bedroom, drying his hair with a towel along the way. He found Baabin lying on his back, arms behind his head, no phone in sight, staring at the ceiling in what seemed to be deep thought. Bua didn’t know what to make of the expression on his face. He lay down next to Baabin, hoping they would pick up right where they had left off.

Then Baabin said, without turning to look at him, “I’ve read the article you sent me, by the way.”

Pause. Bua waited in vain for him to elaborate.

When it became abundantly clear that he had no intention of doing that, Bua sighed and said, “I assume that means you're ready to have sex. As in, go all the way.”

Still avoiding eye contact, Baabin nodded. His wrist was touching Bua's bare arm; Bua could feel how fast and erratic Baabin’s pulse was beating against his skin.

“What, like, right now?”

Another jerky, nervous nod.

“Well, loverboy, you've read it with your eyes closed then.” He took Baabin's hand and gently clinked their freshly done gels together: a shooting star to a rainbow, a pink heart to a tartan pattern. “We'd have to get rid of these first. No way in hell I'm letting you put these up my ass. Or the other way around.”

Blush dusted Baabin's cheeks as he muttered, “I guess you're right. I didn't think about that.”

It was awfully endearing to see him be so nervous about this, so much so that Bua didn't have the heart to tease him.

“It's fine, Baa. It's chill. We have all the time in the world.”

…Or maybe he could tease him, just a little. With this thought, Bua unlocked his phone, angling it so that Baabin could see him open Spotify and search for a song.

Not Yet! - MILLI (added by buawaterlily)

He clicked the play button, and the room filled with MILLI's cheerful voice trying to persuade her salacious boyfriend to chill out and keep his frisky hands to himself. Baabin groaned as he hid his face in his hands. “Are you for real? Makes me feel like I'm some kind of horny pervert trying to get into your pants.”

“Nothing wrong with that. I would very much like you to get into my pants. In fact, you can do so right now. Handjobs are still on the table.”

Baabin propped himself up on one elbow. His hand rested lightly on Bua's thigh, teasing the hem of his boxers without proceeding further.

“Or,” Bua said, reaching up to cup Baabin's face and press a thumb to his bottom lip, just shy of slipping it fully into his mouth, “we can use this.”

This was another thing they hadn't done yet. They had gotten dangerously close to it once, one evening a few weeks ago. They’d been listening to Phi Lisa’s new album together in questionable privacy of Baabin’s bedroom, but then one thing had led to another and the next thing Bua knew, Baabin was down there, between his legs, kissing Bua's happy trail as his fingers fought with buttons of Bua’s jeans. He wondered sometimes how far they would have gone back then, fueled by pure unadulterated horniness and desperation, if Baabin’s phone hadn’t interrupted them with a call from his mother asking him to come down and help out.

Now, Baabin had that curious and determined look on his face which he got whenever he didn't know how to proceed with whatever Bua was suggesting and which Bua always found stupidly cute. “Do I have to like… go rinse my mouth with some mouthwash beforehand?” he asked.

The question caught Bua unaware. “No,” he said, then — “I'm not sure,” — and — “I don't think so?”

Baabin kept looking at him, like Bua was the one holding all the knowledge of the intricacies of gay sex, and not someone just as clueless.

“Alright, I guess I'll have to look up an article about safe oral sex too,” Bua said with a sigh. Baabin's hand was still on his thigh, and so he took it and placed it right where he wanted him. “For now, let's stick to what we know.”

He wished he could add it to their playlist — the pretty little noise Baabin made when Bua slipped an eager hand underneath the waistband of his pants.

ibaaa (21:42): [screenshot_356745.jpg]

ibaaa (21:42): see, told you he knew who you were!!

ibaaa (21:42): this is from two months ago

ibaaa (21:43): and under a tiktok that doesn’t have me in it 🤨

Bua 🪷 (21:43): okay?

Bua 🪷 (21:44): what do you want me to do about it

ibaaa (21:44): block him?

Bua 🪷 (21:44): why would I block him

ibaaa (21:45): you promised to block anyone who flirts w you while knowing that you have a whole ass boyfriend

Bua 🪷 (21:45): he wasn’t flirting with me though

Bua 🪷 (21:45): be fr. he commented under my video one time two months ago

ibaaa (21:46): and approached you on the street!

ibaaa (21:46): block him for being a stalker then

Bua 🪷 (21:48): says the one who went through two months' worth of comments on my videos for a gotcha

Bua 🪷 (21:51): [screenshot_176478.jpg]

Bua 🪷 (21:51): blocked. happy now?

ibaaa (21:51): ….

ibaaa (21:51): yes

Bua 🪷 (21:51): 🙄

A month before the freshman year would start for Bua, Baabin and Fourmod, the news broke that Chian was flying to Toronto to visit his parents, who had recently extended their visas.

Bua tried his best not to be bitter about the fact that he found out about it this late. Sure, maybe Chian didn’t need to share every aspect of his life with Bua anymore, but this was kind of huge. He was going away for two weeks to another country, and Bua found out about it via a TikTok video — a short comedic montage of Chian trying to pack a suitcase set to some jaunty music. The joke was that he packed a suitcase full of warm sweaters and woolly socks only to then check the weather forecast and see that this time of the year, Toronto was maybe not as warm as Bangkok, but still pretty warm. The video ended with Fourmod walking into the frame and plonking himself down on the packed suitcase, like he wasn’t letting Chian go anywhere.

That was the thing that made Bua cool down a bit — the thought that Fourmod was having it worse. After listening to tales (told by Baabin, of course) of what Fourmod was like during his two years long on-and-off situationship with Chian, how he would nearly start climbing walls after going a few days with no contact, how he would mope, wallow and whine while lying around various horizontal surfaces in various stages of self-inflicted misery, well, Bua just couldn’t help but feel sorry for the guy. Drama queen recognises drama queen, and all that. Even if he personally wouldn’t start threatening to jump off the Rama Bridge after not seeing Baabin for a few days.

(He would post a TikTok of himself walking on the said bridge set to sad music, looking out into the distance like a forlorn wife waiting for her husband to come back from the war. The war in question being a jam-packed weekend evening at Baabin’s family Mala restaurant.)

Naturally, when four days into Chian’s absence Fourmod posted a pitiful little Insta story about being bored on his own because Baabin was out of town with his parents visiting their extended family somewhere in the countryside, and the rest of the 100% Battery gang was out there busy doing their own things, Bua couldn’t resist reaching out. He had to use Instagram DMs though, since he didn’t have Fourmod’s LINE yet.

buawaterlily (13:21): bored all by yourself, gorgeous?

fou4mod (13:21): ??????????

fou4mod (13:21): the fuck

buawaterlily (13:21): relax, Phi, I’m joking <3

buawaterlily (13:21): I’m freaking bored also

buawaterlily (13:22): wanna go get our nails done together?

buawaterlily (13:25): Phi Fourmod, c’mon

buawaterlily (13:25): you’re bored. I’m bored. let’s hang out together

fou4mod (13:26): okay. sure

buawaterlily (13:26): sweet 🥰 let’s meet at the BTS station exit in like, an hour

Bua ended up being ten minutes late — the anguish of picking an outfit was to blame. He wanted to wear something casual, something he hadn’t previously worn on a date with Baabin and documented in their many lovestagrams. So, a simple pair of white wide-leg jeans and an oversized blue t-shirt it was. This was something Baabin would wear, Bua thought as he studied his reflection in a train window on the way to his spontaneous rendezvous with Fourmod. I noticed that there’s a piece of you in how I dress was a song lyric line that popped up in his head. Too bad he couldn’t add it to their playlist, for it was a breakup song.

He spotted Fourmod’s neon green headphones right away when he exited the BTS and looked through the crowd of people. For a nanosecond, he fully expected the matching pink ones to appear in the view, as well as their owner.

“Phi Fourmod, hi,” Bua said as he approached Fourmod. The latter looked up from his phone, slightly startled.

“Oh. You’re here. Hi.”

They exchanged awkward nods.

“This feels weird,” Fourmod said, voicing exactly what Bua was thinking.

They stood in tense silence for a beat, facing each other like two nervous, easily spooked little animals in a standstill. Then Bua moved first, and Fourmod followed. They walked out of the station, unconsciously within a bit of a distance of each other.

The idea of meeting Fourmod one-on-one and getting to know him better without the distraction of Chian and Baabin was exciting in theory. In practice, Bua had no idea what to even talk to him about. He tried hard to think of interests they might share — besides the nails, this topic he was keeping for when they’d get to the salon — but all his thoughts kept looping back to Chian and Baabin.

On the other hand, why shouldn’t they gossip about their absent partners? Who else would Bua gossip about those two with, if not Fourmod?

With this in mind, he turned to Fourmod and finally broke the suffocating silence that shrouded them as they walked. “So, how is Chian finding Toronto? Regrets not taking those ugly woollen socks yet?”

Fourmod barked out a laugh. “He said so, and then I checked what the weather is like for him over there, and the weather app showed 24 degrees.”

“Dramatic much.”

“I know, right? He was wearing shorts and a tank top when I video-called him over LINE last night.”

And so, Chian’s trip to Canada became the main topic of their chatter in those few minutes it took them to get to the nail salon. It was mostly Fourmod talking, since he and Chian video-called each other every day, despite the huge time zone difference. Bua, who had received only a handful of texts and photos from Chian ever since his plane landed in Canada, was vicariously listening to him talk.

At the nail salon, they were asked to wait since every nail master upstairs was currently occupied. Bua opened TikTok search, intrigued to find out which influencer had done a review of this place. Must have been someone with thousands of followers for this place to become so popular that walk-in clients at three o’clock on a weekday had to wait for a free slot. He couldn’t find a specific trendsetter, however. It seemed like every BKK TikToker with a bit of clout jumped on the gel nail bandwagon now, regardless of age and gender.

Beside him, Fourmod was also on his phone. Curious to find out what kind of content Fourmod liked to consume in his free time, Bua peeped at his screen. Well, apparently, it was mostly: over-the-top slapstick comedy, viral challenges, clips from loud and flashy variety shows, memes after memes after memes and, finally, video game playthroughs. The kind of stuff Bua’s obnoxious straight classmates would watch on lunch breaks, bursting into deafening bouts of laughter from time to time. Although, to be fair, Fourmod was watching way more kathoey-produced content than you’d find in an average straight guy’s feed. It sort of explained why Fourmod was so well-versed in the queer lingo of it all.

Everything about Fourmod was intriguing to Bua. He was so different from Bua in literally every aspect: their looks, their personalities, the way they dressed and the stuff they were into. Bua could not think of a single thing that would put them under the same umbrella. And yet, they must have been alike in some way — otherwise, how come the same two people fell for them both? Or rather, was Fourmod really Baabin’s type, and Bua was an outlier, an exception to the rule? And what about Chian — had he pursued Fourmod precisely because he was so unlike Bua? Of course, at this point, it really didn’t matter because everyone got who they wanted in the end. Still, Bua desperately needed to know.

An elbow jabbed him rudely in the arm, interrupting Bua’s musings. “Let’s go, it’s our turn,” Fourmod said before jumping from his seat and darting upstairs. He moved a bit like a cartoon character, Bua thought, amused.

Since there was no appointment booked beforehand, their seats at the salon weren’t directly next to each other. An older lady getting her long killer claws manicured separated them. While his own nails were getting polymerised, Bua watched, mesmerised, as the nail art master painted an elaborate golden pattern on each of those claws of hers. At some point, he glanced up and unexpectedly locked eyes with Fourmod. The latter seemed to have been studying him for some time. Caught looking, Fourmod startled, for which he instantly received a gentle scolding from the young lady who was doing his nails.

What are you looking at, Bua mouthed soundlessly.

Nothing, Fourmod replied, also without making a sound. He turned away sharply, and Bua saw that the tip of his ear was pink. There was something so endearing about Fourmod’s awkward physicality that Bua suddenly fully understood why both Chian and Baabin were so obsessed with him.

Fourmod, as it turned out, chose a simpler design this time, and so he was done first. I’ll wait downstairs, he leaned in to whisper in Bua’s ear on his way out. The lady doing Bua’s nails — her name was Phleng and she had done Baabin's nails during his and Bua’s last visit — gave him a scandalised look, and Bua wondered to himself whether the four of them frequenting this little nail salon were one of the main gossip topics for the girlies working here. Fourmod had been to this salon with Chian first, then with Baabin. Then Baabin had come here with Bua, who had previously visited it with Chian. And now Fourmod and Bua came here together. Just how bizarre it all looked from the outside? Was it as soap-opera-y as Bua imagined it to be? And wouldn’t it be funny to talk Chian and Baabin into coming here, just the two of them, to give the salon’s staff yet another head-scratcher?

About twenty minutes later, Bua was done as well. He went downstairs, for some reason anticipating not finding Fourmod there. But there he was, sitting on a bench near the exit and laughing at something in his phone with his barking, boyish laugh.

“Let me see,” was the first thing he said when Bua walked up to him. Bua offered his nails for Fourmod’s inspection. “Gag,” was his instant verdict.

“You too. Show me,” Bua said. Fourmod hesitated, suddenly flustered. “Phi Fourmod, I’m going to see it on your Insta stories anyway.”

“Not if I post it on my Close Friends story, you won’t.”

“Speaking of, add me,” Bua asked, feeling bold out of nowhere. Maybe too bold, because — “And give me your LINE ID as well.”

For a few seconds, Fourmod just stood there, blinking stupidly at Bua like he was expecting some kind of gotcha. When Bua raised an eyebrow at him and gave a tsk of impatience, he finally did as he was told, purposefully holding his phone in such a way so that Bua wouldn’t see the nails on his right hand.

“Now show me what you got,” Bua said once he saw a newly acquired addition in his LINE contact list. He sent Fourmod a welcoming sticker right away just to get their chat started.

Reluctant, Fourmod held out his hands at the waist level. Bua bent down, intrigued. His left hand’s nails were nothing too special — just some splashes of colour and vague shapes in black, yellow and violet. On his right hand, in the same colour scheme, were the four ants, one for each nail, except for the fifth one — his thumb, which was bearing a cute little 3D mold of a winking Siamese cat.

Bua rolled his eyes. “Cheesy.”

“Oh yeah?” Fourmod said. “What does that B on your pinky stand for, then?”

“Buachat, of course,” Bua said in a pretend affront.

“Uh-huh,” Fourmod smirked.

The ice was broken, Bua thought triumphantly. The walls were down. He was getting a good grade in hanging out with his boyfriend’s ex-crush, which was something normal to want and possible to achieve.

Outside the salon, Bua snapped a shot of his nails and sent it to Baabin. It had been a few hours now since the last time Baabin was seen online. Earlier, he had given Bua a heads-up that reception in the village where his relatives were living was abysmal, practically non-existent, meaning that whatever Bua texted him throughout the day, Baabin would only see it once his family was on their way back to Bangkok. Bua wanted his freshly done nails to be the first thing Baabin would see once he was back online. He would know right away that B on Bua’s pinky didn’t stand for Buachat at all.

Beside him, Fourmod was texting as well. Looking at his huge, absolutely smitten grin, Bua could guess who he was chatting with.

“What time is it in Toronto?” Bua asked.

“Around six in the morning,” Fourmod replied without looking up from his phone.

“You’ve got to be joking.”

“Deadass. He says he can’t sleep, still jetlagged days after.”

It could be that, but it was just as likely Chian wouldn’t mute his phone for the night, waiting for Fourmod to text him.

After getting some snacks from a street vendor, they wandered aimlessly around the Siam area. At one point, they got stopped for a TikTok street interview. The girls conducting it mistook them for a couple, and Bua thought it would be kind of hilarious if they were to go along with it, and then the clip would go viral. Fourmod, however, seemed to think the opposite, if the way he made sure to quickly clear up the misunderstanding was anything to go by.

“We’re just friends,” he said into the girl’s mic.

“Are we?” Bua asked just because he suddenly felt like stirring some shit. He gave Fourmod a coy look from underneath his eyelashes that he knew would make the gays and the girlies on TikTok go crazy. Fourmod elbowed him in the ribs, but there was no real malice to it.

It would be nice to just chill somewhere quiet for a while before calling it a night, they agreed. Charge their phones, post some stories on Instagram and finish off a packet of jelly candies Fourmod discovered at the bottom of his bag. Only after they sat down, Bua, who was leading the way, had a belated realisation that completely on autopilot his legs brought him to the little alley where he and Baabin shared their first kiss. And just like that, he was overcome with longing. How amazing it would have been, he thought, if Baabin just popped up out of nowhere right now. Followed the trail of Instagram stories to find Bua, like he always did, his lovely, round face lighting up with joy upon spotting him.

But the sky was getting pitch black, and Baabin was nowhere to be seen. Most likely, right now, he was fast asleep in the back seat of his parents’ car, none the wiser about Bua wishing he would teleport himself on their little kiss bench Bua was presently sharing with Fourmod, of all people.

“You kinda smell like weed, just a little,” Fourmod said without looking up from his phone, where he scrolled through a myriad of Instagram reels at a speed that made Bua’s head spin a little. Lots of those reels, Bua couldn’t help but notice, were travel mini-guides about Canada.

Self-consciously, Bua grabbed the collar of the t-shirt he was wearing, brought it to his nose and inhaled. He couldn’t smell anything other than a vague trace of a laundry detergent and his floral deodorant, however. Then again, maybe it was true what they said — that when a specific scent surrounded you day by day, you’d stop noticing it altogether. Earlier today, he had lingered briefly in the parlour to eavesdrop on his mothers chatting via a video call. It was likely that the time he had spent crouched behind a corner was enough for the smell to cling to him.

“My Ma owns a ganja bar,” he said with a wince.

“So you don’t..?” Now Fourmod was looking at him, his eyes curious.

“No, never. Hated it when I caught Chian doing it, too.”

“Man, same. Gave me such an ick. His clothes stank.”

Oh, sis, and his breath too, Bua thought, but didn’t say out loud. For starters, Fourmod already knew that as someone with firsthand experience. Secondly, if there was one thing Fourmod absolutely did not need to find out about, especially when they were getting along so nicely, it was Bua and Chian’s kiss. Bua could only hope that Chian would also take it to his grave.

“He says hi, by the way.” Fourmod waved his phone, where he had his chat with Chian open.

Right as he said it, Bua’s own phone pinged with an incoming LINE message.

Chian (18:44): you’re hanging out with Fourmod??

Bua 🪷 (18:44): well, someone has to walk your miserable clown of a boyfriend

“I think he’s afraid that we’re going to murder each other or something,” Bua said, chuckling at Chian’s reply, which was basically just a long string of exploding head emojis.

“Don’t you want to?”

Bua pretended to think it over. “Not anymore.”

“Likewise,” Fourmod said with a grin.

Was this the first genuine smile he’s given Bua? It must have been. Dumbstruck by it, Bua smiled weakly in return. Fourmod’s grin grew even wider as he bumped their shoulders amicably.

“You know,” he said. “You’re actually kind of okay.”

“Just okay?” Bua pouted.

“Hey. Don’t push it, Nong.”

“Fine, fine. You’re not that bad yourself.”

Although the ice was broken and the walls were down, Bua couldn’t help but wish they would jump over all those tedious stages of getting to know one another and land straight into an easy, comfortable friendship. The kind where you can discuss just about anything without making it awkward. There were questions he was dying to ask Fourmod. But he knew the vibes would immediately get weird if he were to ask, for example, do you and Chian ever talk about me?, and have you and Chian said the L word to each other yet? Or, better yet, have you two had sex — all the way? And then, do you ever think about how long you and he will last, and do you hope it’s forever, even though you know it probably won’t be?

As he filed these questions away for later, Bua glanced at Fourmod, looking for a more light-hearted topic just to keep chatting. The latter, using a lull in their conversation as an excuse, was now scrolling through his Twitter feed. He was scrolling fast and mindlessly, and only slowed down and stopped when he stumbled upon a photo shoot of PROXIE’s Onglee.

“Isn't there a PROXIE event at the mall next weekend?” Bua asked. “Are you going?”

“Yeah.” Fourmod scratched his neck, looking shifty all of a sudden. “Me and Baa already made plans.”

“Oh.” That was news to Bua. “Well, surely it's fine if I tag along?”

“I don't know. You'd have to ask Baa.”

Bua cocked his head at him, confused.

“Why would I need to do that? I'm his boyfriend, you're his best friend, and me and you get along just fine now, so what's the issue?”

“I said I don't know. Listen, man, leave me out of it. I don't want to be a part of whatever it is that's going on with you and Baa.”

“Nothing is going on.”

“Sure,” Fourmod said, but he sounded unconvinced.

Both were silent for a beat. Then, because Bua was a curious creature, he asked, “What makes you think there's something going on?”

At first, it appeared that Fourmod wasn't going to answer at all — he was wearing the very same tortured, mulish expression as Baabin when he didn't want to talk or explain himself. With Baabin, it always drove Bua mad. With Fourmod right now, he was willing to let it go, scared he’d accidentally break this fragile peace they managed to establish against all odds.

But then Fourmod spoke, albeit reluctantly. “Well, he asked how I deal with… you know. Jealousy. Looked stressed out of his mind.”

“Do you still get jealous?” Bua asked, feeling nosy.

Fourmod heaved a long-suffering sigh. “All. The. Time.”

“And how do you deal with it?”

“I don't really.”

“So Baa asked the wrong person.”

“Pretty much, yeah.”

Bua touched the blue little letter B adorning his pinky. It was somewhat reassuring that at least Baabin knew he had a problem, even if he was going around asking all the wrong people how to deal with it.

“He’s an idiot,” Fourmod said, like he knew exactly what Bua was thinking.

Takes one to know one, Bua thought.

“I hope you realise though,” Fourmod continued, “that he's, like, crazy about you.” He smirked. “Lives up to his name, I guess.”

“Is he now,” Bua said, hoping it would prompt Fourmod to spill more tea. Bua did, in fact, realise that. But it was a different thing entirely to hear it from Baabin’s best friend.

“Dude, are you serious? He talks about you more than about his beloved Lisa. It’s sooo cringe. He used to spam the group chat with Lisa fancams, now it’s only your TikToks. Faifa keeps threatening to kick him out, she hates all that mushy couple-y stuff.”

Bua turned away slightly because he suspected the smile on his face right now looked very stupid, and he could do without Fourmod teasing him about it. His skin felt tingly. It was addictive — the thrill he got every time he found another evidence of being the apple of Baabin’s eye.

He looked up at Fourmod, hit by a sudden realisation. There it was, the thing they shared, the thing in which they were so alike. Both wanted to be adored so strongly that it bordered on desperation. Something Baabin and Chian were, in turn, drawn to, more than happy to shower them in adoration.

“Selfie?” Bua asked to justify his staring. Fourmod hesitated for only a second before nodding and scooting a tad bit closer, duck face and cheek heart on stand-by. They snapped about twenty photos, grimacing at the camera and at each other, as well as showing off their nails. “I want to post a couple of these,” Bua said as he browsed his haul of today’s photos and videos. “And also tag you. Is that okay?”

Fourmod made no reply, uncertainty plain in the sharp bend of his eyebrows.

Bua tilted his head. “I hope it’s not about Baa.”

“He’s not gonna like this,” Fourmod said.

“Sucks to be him then. So I’m tagging you, yeah?” Bua asked once more and waited for Fourmod’s stilted nod before pressing the post button. A few seconds in, he refreshed the seen by page and watched Chian’s username pop up in there. He then refreshed it a few times more, hoping to see a specific username appear. But it didn't.

Soon, they decided to part ways for the day. Fourmod said he was a bit tired, but Bua had a suspicion that really he just couldn’t wait to get home, plop himself down on the bed and call Chian — something he was very obviously itching to do for hours now. Understandable, for Bua himself was on the edge waiting for Baabin to finally come back online. And would you look at that: just a couple of minutes after Bua and Fourmod waved each other awkwardly goodbye, an Instagram notification with Baabin’s name in it popped up on Bua’s iPhone screen.

[baabaabaabin_m replied to your story]

baabaabaabin_m (19:56): you went to get your nails done with Fourmod?

buawaterlily (19:56): yes. is that a problem?

baabaabaabin_m (19:56): since when you and Fourmod are besties

buawaterlily (19:57): we’re not

buawaterlily (19:57): anyway, are you back in Bangkok?

buawaterlily (19:57): can I call you?

buawaterlily (19:58): hello?

buawaterlily (20:01): you still there?

The silence was a bit ominous. He did attempt to call Baabin, but the call went nowhere.

By the time he reached home, Bua was starting to feel a bit restless. The loudspeakers at Ma’s bar were blasting Charli xcx, her newfound obsession. Called your digits, but the phone kept ringin’. Wish I knew what you were thinking, na-na-na. A few loud tourist groups were scattered through the parlour, as well as a couple of locals who came here to chill on their own. Ma herself was nowhere to be seen, and so after a quick outfit change into something more comfortable, Bua headed straight for the bar island, where in a lowermost drawer he kept his lollipop stash. He picked the one that was half-pink, half-green — strawberry and kiwi — and made himself comfortable on a guest couch furthest from all the noise.

Bua was about to open a string of Fourmod’s Insta stories just to see how much of him Fourmod dared to post in there, when he realised he had company. On a vacant seat to his left sat one of the guests. Man in, if Bua had to guess, his mid-thirties, white, nondescript features, tattooed arms. In other words, an average visitor of a BKK ganja-oriented bar. Seems like he waited for Bua to look his way, because as soon as their eyes met, the man gave a friendly wave and asked something in heavily accented English. Bua couldn’t really hear him over the music. He tapped his ear to indicate that, and the man scooted closer.

“I asked, where are you from?” he said, leaning a bit too close. His breath smelled so strongly of weed that it seemed like his Thailand travel itinerary had been nothing but ganja cafes and dispensaries.

“Oh, I’m a local.”

“Really? You don’t look it.”

He gave Bua a once-over. Suddenly, Bua felt extremely conscious about the skirt he was wearing. He took his bare legs off the low table and sat on the couch cross-legged, adjusting the skirt to cover as much skin as possible.

“I get that a lot.”

Changing his position didn’t make that much of a difference, because now the stranger was staring at the low neckline of Bua’s shirt, right where Baabin’s pendant rested in the little groove below the sternum notch.

“You’re kind of cute.”

Only kind of? was right at the tip of Bua’s tongue, but he refrained from saying it out loud lest it be interpreted as flirtation. Instead, he only nodded, but apparently even that was perceived as encouragement, because the next thing the man said was, “Aren’t you a bit old to be sucking on candy? Maybe there’s something else you can put in your mouth.”

His skin crawled. Suddenly, he felt dirty, like the man’s words were a bucket of filth that he dumped over Bua’s head. Bua took a deep breath to centre himself and looked the man in the eyes. “My parent owns this, uh, establishment,” he said calmly. “One word from me and she’ll kick you out. If you’re looking for a hooker, this is not the place.”

That was a bit of a gamble. He wasn’t actually sure she would toss the guy out instead of trying to smooth things over.

Luckily for him, it worked. The man put his hands up in a sign of surrender. “Wow, easy there! I just thought… Ah, well, never mind. My bad, I guess.”

He gave Bua one last look — now hostile instead of suggestive — and left to join a rowdy group of his stoner friends who were obviously in on it. They were all hooting and hollering and yelling things in their native language that Bua was glad not to understand.

His gaze travelled through the parlour, stopping on the doorway. His stomach dropped.

Baabin stood there with his eyebrows knitted and his mouth a thin, taut line. He couldn’t have heard the conversation from all the way there, but judging by the expression on his face, he watched all of it happen like a hawk and jumped to his own conclusions.

“Heaven help me, not this again as well,” Bua mumbled out loud as Baabin headed for his couch.

“What was all that about?” was the first thing Baabin said, no greeting, no missed you, nothing. He didn't sit down, choosing instead to hover over Bua. Too bad for him, his small silhouette in a bundle of clothes three sizes too big didn’t look imposing at all.

“Hello to you too, love. It’s nothing. Some high as a kite tourist tried to hit on me. Wasn't the first time and wouldn't be the last.”

“He was like, forty.”

“And? Once again: he hit on me, not the other way round.”

“Didn’t look like you minded that very much,” Baabin said with an uncharacteristic acidity in his otherwise soft voice. “Does constantly being hit on feed your ego or something?”

Bua stared at him in disbelief at what he was hearing. “Don’t piss me off,” he said. “I turned him down, what else would you have me do? Not exist in public places? Blend in with the furniture?”

“You shouldn't be hanging around here.”

“Excuse me? I literally live here, Baa.”

“You don't live here.” He gestured around himself. “You have your room.”

“You're sending me to my room?! Are you my boyfriend or my mother?”

Baabin rolled his eyes, clearly frustrated. As if it were Bua who was making this difficult. “No, it’s just… You know I hate it. When other people notice you. Flirt with you. When you let them do it.”

“Let is a strong word, Baabin. This is fucking ridiculous, actually. And when we’re married and live together, you, what, are going to lock me up in our apartment every morning before going to work? So that no one else talks to me ever?”

Baabin just stared at him, speechless. Bua didn’t know what to make of the expression on his face. It softened again, all the hard, angry lines gone and frustration changing for something Bua couldn’t quite name.

“Well? What’s it going to be, diva?” Bua asked, impatient.

“You think we’re going to get married?” was what Baabin said, at last, his voice full of soft wonder. Like his mind highlighted the word married and chucked the rest of what was said in a bin.

Somehow, this pissed Bua off even more than everything that came before it. “Right now,” he said as he got up from the couch. “I don’t even want to look at you, let alone marry you.”

Without waiting for a reaction from Baabin, Bua stomped away. He thought he heard his name being called, but the music was too loud. Maybe he only imagined it. He didn’t turn to see if Baabin was watching him leave, no matter how much he wanted to.

In his room, he flopped face down on the bed just to seethe for a bit. The fact that his pillows still vaguely smelled of Baabin’s strawberry and kiwi shampoo wasn’t helping at all. Although, once again, maybe that was just his treacherous imagination. In a fit of helpless anger, he ended up stripping his bed completely. As he lay on the bare mattress, Bua opened their shared Spotify playlist and scrolled miserably through everything they’d added so far before hitting the add to this playlist button. It felt a bit like he was ruining a perfect sweet dessert by dropping into it a spoonful of salt.

งอนตลอด (Tell Me What You Want) - Ice Paris (added by buawaterlily)

I can’t read it, your mind is complicated indeed.

The song might have been too upbeat for how he felt in this moment, but the lyrics were on the nose. Bua messaged a 🎵 emoji just in case Baabin — probably on his way home now, staring out of the bus window, miserable and yearning, like a male lead in a ballad MV — wasn’t obsessively checking newest additions to the lovesick boys playlist. Then, just because he felt especially petty right now, Bua also added,

toxic till the end - ROSÉ (added by buawaterlily)

I said, “I never wanna see your face”, I meant I couldn’t wait to see it again.

And wasn’t that relatable. Bua let out a humourless little laugh. Maybe Baabin wasn’t the most pathetic of the four of them, after all.

He didn’t have to wait long for an answer. Not even five minutes later, Bua received a 🎵 in return.

คิดไม่ออก - TangBadVoice, Billkin (added by BAABIN)

Jealous King - TangBadVoice, Pun Ja (added by BAABIN)

Bua couldn’t recall the lyrics off the top of his head, so he got comfortable — as comfortable as one could get on just a bare mattress — and hit the play button.

I know I’m selfish always. I know I want you too much, and I know it’s not good. I think, I think, I think, but I can’t think. The more I think about it, the more complicated it gets. Every time we meet, she’s more and more out of my league. The more I stay still, the more anxious I feel. The more I think, the more I don’t know.

That was indeed a very Baabin song, Bua had to admit. His tragic inability to express himself clearly and his tendency to bottle all that shit up instead of speaking his mind were his fatal flaws. That’s why he and Fourmod were besties — birds of a feather. Two tongue-tied, self-sabotaging idiot birds.

The jealousy is breaking me successfully, I really want you to need me, I really want you to need me. Ah, I need you to look worse. Dress like a nurse — no, fuck that shit, that’s a porn cosplay. Fuck! I think I’ve been cursed. Maybe I’ll make a sign that says: please stop hitting on my girl, and don’t text her if that would be okay.

Bua snorted. Okay, that was kind of funny, he had to give Baabin that.

For the next hour or so, they continued to add songs in turn, once again having a conversation through other people who were saying — or singing, rather — things for them. It was getting progressively harder to think of a “reply”, though. The night fell long ago, and Bua’s eyelids were getting heavy as all the tension and anger in his body slowly gave way to exhaustion. He was about to get a pillow and a thin duvet and conk out just like this, no shower, no evening skin care routine, when Ma walked into his room. She stopped short at the sight of the bedsheet mess on the floor.

“Um,” she said. “I'm not even gonna ask what this is all about. Just make sure it's not here the next time I drop by, deal?”

“Yes, Ma.”

It was not like her to visit Bua before bedtime. Popping in to wish sweet dreams wasn't something she did habitually, so Bua wondered what the hell she wanted all of a sudden.

“Listen, we're about to close for the night, but your little guy is still around.” Bua's traitor heart did a somersault as she said this. “I offered to get him a taxi or for one of our guys to give him a ride home, but he refused.”

“Cool. Don't care,” Bua replied, but he sounded unconvincing even to himself. He woke up his phone and pretended to be more interested in whatever insignificant bullshit that was polluting his TikTok FYP.

“Are you not going to invite him here to sleep over? Or send him off?”

“No.”

Ma pinched the bridge of her nose, like she wasn't equipped to deal with any of this.

“Okay. Guess I'll throw a mattress for him in one of the spare rooms.”

She lingered in the doorway, as though she wanted to say more to him but couldn't find the right words. Bua looked up at her from his phone, helpless.

“Ma,” he said. “I don't know what to do. It’s so weird — I've never felt this comfortable with another person.” He swallowed through the lump in his throat. “But also... he makes me so damn miserable sometimes.”

“That's just how it is, kiddo,” Ma said unhelpfully. An awkward pause followed. When it became clear that neither of them had anything more to say, she walked out of his room.

He wondered what answer Mae would’ve given him if she were here right now as well.

Bua dragged his hands over his face. Somehow, his thoughts looped back to Fourmod and Chian. Those first couple of weeks after the four of them had sorted their mess out and split into their neat little pairs, Bua had naively thought that Fourmod and Chian would be the ones constantly having petty fights and lovers’ spats. Given their history, it felt like a reasonable assumption to make. Bua had mentally prepared himself back then to be Chian’s shoulder to cry on whenever the latter would find himself blocked by Fourmod on Instagram yet again. Strangely enough, it seemed they hadn’t fought even once since they had gone official — or if they had, Chian never told Bua about it. Maybe it wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows between them, and they were just better at keeping the ugly stuff private. Nevertheless, none of Chian or Fourmod’s stories, posts, statuses or texts implied that they’d been having anything other than a complete idyll in their relationship.

Which, to Bua’s annoyance, could not be said about him and Baabin.

He wasn’t checking his phone anymore, but he figured around an hour of him lying in the dark must have passed when he heard quiet, shuffling footsteps just outside his room and something that sounded suspiciously like sniffling.

Bua sighed.

“Well, don’t just stand there like a creep. Come in,” he said loud enough to be heard.

He turned on his side, facing away from the door. He didn’t know what seeing Baabin’s tear-stricken face would make him do right now. It was equally likely that he’d either try to smother Baabin with a pillow or hug him so tight one of them would surely end up with a rib crack.

Moments later, the bed creaked under another person’s weight, and a familiar warmth enveloped Bua from behind. An arm curled around his waist, and a leg wedged itself in between his. The back of his neck was instantly wet from where Baabin pressed his runny nose against it.

“Stop rubbing your snot on me,” Bua said.

“I’m sorry,” Baabin sobbed. As always, it was unclear what exactly he was apologising for. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

As much as Bua wanted to hold the grudge for a little bit longer, anger and hurt were slowly seeping out of his body under Baabin’s weight pressing impossibly close, like he wanted them to melt into one. Bua felt all his earlier fervour buckle under it. Resigned, he let Baabin hold him and whisper his tearful little sorries until the drowsiness took over them both.

It was still dark when he woke up some indefinite time later. Everything was quiet except for the gentle susurration of the early morning rain outside. Sometime during the night, Bua turned on his back. Baabin was sleeping soundly half on top of him, their limbs tangled.

Humidity was what woke him up. The air in the room was thick with it, suffocating. The thin shirt Bua went to bed wearing was now soaked with sweat, clinging to his body in a way that grossed him out. He looked over longingly at the electric fan chilling on a shelf on the other side of the room.

“Baby, please move, it’s very hot,” Bua whispered into the crown of Baabin's head, nudging him gently, hoping to rouse him just enough to make him roll over. Baabin uttered a soft, affirmative mhhmm noise, but made no move to detach himself. If anything, he pressed even closer, heaving a contented little sigh that tickled Bua’s neck.

“Baa,” Bua breathed out. His face buried in Baabin’s hair, it was more of a kiss than a call.

Baabin tightened his grip on Bua’s shirt. “Mmmhhm,” he mumbled again. Then, barely audible, “I love you.”

Bua’s hand, which was carding carefully through Baabin’s warm, damp hair, stilled.

“Say it again,” he asked, feeling raw and wide open, like a fresh cut.

His only answer was Baabin’s soft, wheezing snoring, accompanied by the light chatter of rain.

[ibaaa unsent a message]

[ibaaa unsent a message]

[ibaaa unsent a message]

[ibaaa unsent a message]

[ibaaa unsent a message]

[ibaaa unsent a message]

Bua 🪷 (09:25): what did you unsend

ibaaa (09:26): nevermind. pocket-dialed

Bua 🪷 (09:26): that won’t fly with me, babe. what were you sending me in the middle of the night

ibaaa (09:26): I’m telling the truth

Bua 🪷 (09:26): …

Bua 🪷 (09:27): Phi Fourmod is right, you’re such an idiot sometimes

ibaaa (09:28): I don’t like that you and Fourmod talk shit about me behind my back

Bua 🪷 (09:28): don’t worry, we talk shit about Chian too 😚 you’re not special

Bua 🪷 (09:50): by the way

Bua 🪷 (09:50): I’m going with you guys to see PROXIE at the mall next weekend

Bua 🪷 (11:04): helloooooooo

Bua 🪷 (11:04): 🤨

Bua 🪷 (11:06): are you having one of those week-long showers again

Bua 🪷 (11:10): maybe I should pull a Phi Fourmod and block you everywhere

ibaaa (11:33): you don’t even like PROXIE that much

Bua 🪷 (11:33): wow

The area of the city where Mae was renting her tiny apartment was one of Bua’s favourites. Mostly non-gentrified, teeming with small business shops, food stalls, restaurants and salons, where everyone seemed to know each other. He liked the modern opulence of central Bangkok the most, of course, its high, sleek buildings and its bold, intense energy, but there was something about those small districts and their close-knit communities that spoke to Bua as well. He could definitely see himself settling in a place like this in a few decades from now. He’d rebrand his TikTok to make videos reviewing local food and thrift shops that travel guides wouldn’t tell you about. It was kind of like an upbeat pop song versus a mellow ballad — both something Bua enjoyed greatly, depending on the mood.

It took him a bit longer than expected to find Mae’s apartment building. The usual arrangement was her visiting him at Ma’s place, and not the other way round, so he kept forgetting the route. The app was useless, leading him into dead-end streets and construction sites, and he even managed to get a bit lost until a kind-faced food stall aunty put aside a piece of roti she had been rolling to give him directions.

He then wondered whether he also somehow forgot her apartment number and got the wrong floor because the person who opened the door wasn’t Mae, but an unfamiliar woman her age. A sports bra and stripey pyjama bottoms were the only things she was wearing. She had quite an impressive build: Bua figured she could lift and throw him like he weighed nothing, if she wanted.

They stood watching each other in awkward silence for a few seconds, both evidently confused, until a glimpse of recognition flashed in the woman’s eyes, and she said, “Ah, you’re… Bee, right?”

“No, it’s Bua.”

“Bua, that’s right. Knew it was something sweet. Anyway, I’m Dao. Nice to meet you, come in.”

Eyeing her with caution, Bua walked in. In his head, he was trying to make sense of two brand new pieces of information: 1. Mae was living with another woman who wasn’t Ma; 2. the woman in question apparently knew who Bua was.

“Honey,” came Mae’s voice, and next thing Bua knew, he was being pulled into a tight hug. “Oh, how I miss you. I’m sorry for not coming to see you — I’ve been so busy with things recently.”

Dao clapped Bua on the shoulder, like they were pals already — he felt his knees buckle a bit as she did that — and excused herself into what Bua knew was Mae’s bedroom. It was a one-room apartment, after all.

“That’s Dao,” Mae said, as she noticed Bua stare after her. “She lives here with me. It’s temporary.”

“Your girlfriend?”

“I wouldn’t call her that, no.”

“Seems pretty serious to me. I mean, you told her about me.”

Mae shrugged. Bua stifled the urge to read her a lecture about the dangers of no-label situationships. I have this new friend, he almost said, his name is Fourmod, and this shit nearly killed him. He wanted to believe that she knew what she was doing. Out of his two parents, he always considered Mae to be the more sensible one.

“Have you eaten? I have some leftover chicken rice.”

He agreed to chicken rice, if only because he knew she’d keep nagging him to eat something the entire time he was here. She kept humming a song as she heated up their meal. It made him a bit wistful — that she seemed to be genuinely content with her new life. No matter how much he tried, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen her being this happy back at home. To distract himself from this miserable thought, Bua tried to guess the song. It was definitely something he had heard before. Ink Waruntorn, maybe.

He was looking for a way to bring up all that was eating at him, but didn’t know where to even start. Fortunately, Mae noticed him mournfully picking at his food with a spoon and immediately caught on that something was up. She rested her spoon against the edge of the plate and leaned over the table to caress his cheek.

“What’s wrong, Bua? Is everything okay at home? Is it your,” — she winced, as if the word she was about to say tasted bad in her mouth, — “mother?”

Are you not my mother too? “No, it’s not her or anything like that.”

“What is it then?” She squinted, like she was trying to do a mind-reading trick. And maybe she did know how to read minds, because the next thing she said was, “Love life? Is it about that one cute little guy that follows you around like a lovesick puppy?”

Was that what they looked like to others?

“Yes,” he said. “I don’t know what his problem is. I’m sick of having to be mad at him.”

“Why are you mad at him?”

“He’s jealous of me breathing next to other people. Constantly. It was cute at first, and I liked it, I can’t lie, but…” He heaved a sigh. “Now we just fight all the time, and I’m worried that someday we’ll end up like… well, like you and Ma.”

The smile she gave Bua as he said this felt so condescending that he immediately regretted ever coming here in hopes of getting some solid relationship advice.

“Baby,” she said sweetly. “You’re not going to end up like us. Firstly, you’re only seventeen—”

“Eighteen.”

“Right, eighteen. Sorry, love. Anyway, another thing is that you two don’t have a child whose custody you’d have to fight over.”

“Oh, but we do. You see, there’s this playlist that we made—”

But he stopped himself from elaborating further. She wasn’t taking him seriously at all, Bua could tell. And rambling about his and Baabin’s shared playlist wouldn’t help his cause either.

“Okay,” Mae said. She looked like she was finding his romantic woes to be extremely amusing. “Tell me everything. Begin from the start.”

And so he did. He made sure to mention everything: the way Baabin had been stringing him along, and how he had prioritised Fourmod’s feelings over Bua’s, his comments about Bua’s eyes and hair that had sent Bua into the worst spiral of his life, his incessant jealousy, his maddening sulking, his stupid habit of showing up days later after a fight and simply pretending that nothing happened. Once Bua started talking, it was hard to stop. Even a loud noise from Mae’s bedroom — it sort of sounded like Dao was assembling furniture in there — couldn’t stop him from letting it all out.

Mae was a good listener and didn’t interrupt him even once. When he finished talking, she waited an extra few seconds to make sure that the list of Baabin’s crimes was complete and there was nothing else to add. Technically, Bua could think of a few more things, but he felt like this was enough for her to get the gist.

“You already know what I’m going to say, right?” she asked.

“Dump him?”

“No, but it’s interesting that it was the first thing you thought of. Something to unpack there, maybe.”

Bua threw his head back, frustrated. “Mae.”

“I was going to suggest talking, actually. As in, sit down and have a proper conversation with him about everything you just said.”

“Why wouldn’t you and Ma just talk then?”

“Oh, baby.” There it was again, that condescending smile. “We’re way past that.”

He let out a defeated sigh. Still smiling, Mae reached out again and carded her fingers through his hair.

“Sorry that it’s all I can offer. I know you think we adults are wise —”

Not really.

“— but it’s all a ruse, right? You’ll turn thirty and realise that you understand even less about the world than you do now at seventeen.”

For a minute, he just watched her, this woman who had raised him only to now show up once every few months with a bag of Korean snacks and a willingness to make a fool of herself for his TikTok channel. Who didn’t think it was important to text him to say that she was seeing someone new, and who had wished him a happy birthday a couple of months ago, only to keep forgetting that he had turned eighteen.

“Whatever,” he said. “Give me a hug at least.”

She moved her chair closer and embraced him.

“My poor baby,” Mae crooned as she stroked his hair. “It’s going to be fine.”

Maybe this visit wasn’t all in vain. Because Mae’s hugs were almost as good as Baabin’s.

ibaaa (23:14): Bua

ibaaa (23:15): please stop adding breakup songs to our playlist, you’re scaring me

Kill This Love - BLACKPINK (added by buawaterlily)

ibaaa (23:16): BUA 😭

Too Perfect For You (สวย เริ่ด เชิด) - 4EVE (added by buawaterlily)

ibaaa (23:17): 💥💥💥❤️‍🩹

ibaaa (23:17): stopppp

สักวันฉันจะหายดี - Ink Waruntorn (added by buawaterlily)

ibaaa (23:18): 😭😭😭

ibaaa (00:35): I can see that you’re still online

ibaaa (00:37): answer my texts!!

ibaaa (00:38): not going to sleep until you answer

Espresso - Sabrina Carpenter (added by buawaterlily)

ibaaa (00:38): not funny 😑

This was officially the longest Bua had gone without seeing Baabin in person ever since they had started dating. He was running out of breakup songs to add to their playlist.

Although he refused to be the one to cave in, Bua was missing Baabin something terrible. In fact, he didn’t even know he had it in him — the capacity to long for someone this much. He kept waking up in the middle of the night, his mind foggy from sleep, confused that no one was clinging to him like he was a lifeboat in the middle of an ocean. His single bed all of a sudden started to feel too big. There was all this empty space in it where another person should be, lounging in there on his phone, or rattling away about how his day went, or peppering a trail of kisses down Bua’s face. Sometimes, in the early morning hours, when the bar building was uncharacteristically quiet, Bua would lie listening in rapt attention for a possible rustle of the strip curtain in his doorway. He knew it was pointless. Still, he listened, ready to close his eyes the minute he’d hear the rustle and pretend to be asleep if another body were to snuggle up to him.

Maybe Baabin’s patheticness was rubbing off on him. Honestly, even Fourmod was handling Chian’s trip to Canada with more dignity (or so it seemed).

Hanging out with people who weren’t Baabin appeared to be the best course of action. However, Fourmod was reluctant to go out again, and although he refused to tell why, Bua could guess the reason (the reason was currently too busy adding sad self-pitying songs to their playlist and ignoring Bua’s latest message asking whether they could meet and figure out what was going on).

And so, when a very timely group hangout invitation came from his now ex-classmates, Bua took it in a heartbeat.

The entire thing was Maew’s idea, who was very adamant they all stay in touch after their graduation. Not that Bua had been particularly close to any of them throughout his high school years, but they had been on friendly enough terms for him to actually care to see their faces every once in a while. Not to mention, he was kind of nosy to find out what everyone was planning to do with their lives now that their high school era was officially over.

It was a fancy open-air riverside moo krata restaurant that they ended up gathering at. Someone’s snapback got plucked off his head by the wind and ended up in the river. They all found the image of it floating miserably in the water hilarious, and so Bua filmed a TikTok of it set to sad violin music much to everyone’s delight, including the snapback owner.

“What’s your TikTok again?” Peem, now snapbackless, asked Bua. “I used to follow you back when you ran a channel with that one guy you were dating. You know, the one with the shaved head?”

“Chian?” Bua laughed. “We never dated.”

“Get out of here,” Peem said. A few people listening in on their conversation seemed shocked as well. “I was so sure you two were an item. It’s like, you know, I’m straight, but those TikToks were actually fire.”

“That chemistry,” Maew chimed in. “Your current dance partner isn’t as good.”

“That one is actually my boyfriend.”

“Oh,” she said, flustered, and quickly changed the topic.

An hour in, someone with a large following set up a livestream, and they entertained the audience first with an impromptu mukbang, then by playing games people suggested in the comments. Maew kept clinging to his side, pretending to be drunk (even though there was no alcohol on their table) and whining about how much she was going to miss him now that they had graduated (even though she and Bua enrolled into the same uni).

“Who’s gonna compliment me on my killer make-up,” she was saying. “Only you ever did that. I hope there’s a gay guy I can befriend in my uni class.”

Bua rolled his eyes. He was trying to politely extricate himself from her grip, but it was proving to be quite difficult.

“Come shopping with me this Saturday, Bua. One last time.”

“Neither of us is moving to another country, sis. But sure. Can we go early? I already made plans with someone to see PROXIE at the mall.”

“Since when are you a PROXIE fan?”

“I’m not. I believe it’s called networking.”

As soon as she got distracted by someone else, Bua opened his chat with Baabin.

Bua 🪷 (17:36): what time is the PROXIE event this Saturday?

ibaaa (17:37): 16:00

ibaaa (17:37): 🎵

A song that Baabin wanted him to see right away? Intrigued to no end, Bua clicked on the Spotify app, where he was instantly greeted by the last playlist he had opened. Which was, of course, their playlist.

BYOB (bring your own best friend) - Billlie (added by BAABIN)

“Huh?!” Bua said out loud. So loud, in fact, that every head at the table turned to him.

“What is it, what is it?” Maew was yanking him by the arm back and forth, the gossip and drama lover that she was.

“I think my boyfriend just called me a friendless loser via our shared Spotify playlist?”

“Wow. Kill him,” came from the other end of the table.

“Trying to explode him with my mind right as we speak,” Bua said, his voice shaking ever so slightly.

But no one, it seemed, noticed just how angry and distraught this little thing made him. They all laughed about it, reassuring Bua that they would help him hide the body, if needed, and then, not even five minutes later, it was already forgotten because they discovered that all of the meat plates were empty, and so someone suggested ordering another round.

While everyone was busy passing around the menu, Bua made up a quick lie that he promised to meet his parents — yes, really, he’s really gotta go, yes, yes, it’s still early, but they’re already waiting for him, and he’ll text Maew about this Saturday as soon as he can, he promises, hugs and kisses, he’ll see them all soon — and dashed off mallwards.

In the mall, he made a beeline straight for his favourite nook. His thoughts were a mess. Maybe Baabin didn’t even mean it that way. Maybe it literally wasn’t that serious. Yet, Bua knew that usually sweet, bubbly, affectionate Baabin wasn’t above some casual cruelty. Especially when it had something to do with Fourmod. Oh, Bua knew that all too well, unfortunately.

He reopened the playlist to check if the song was still there, and it was. Taunting him. He wanted to add a reply song, except he was so pissed he simply could not think of a single one that would fit. It’s like he forgot everything he’d ever heard in his life.

So instead, Bua opened the search bar and started typing.

He Is - Bamsem, hyeminsong (added by buawaterlily)

In Canada - Mountaineer (added by buawaterlily)

You Asshole! - Talk Show Host (added by buawaterlily)

The 🎵 he had sent into their chat right after sat there, marked read. No follow-up happened. Baabin chose his trademark disappearing act, which in itself was a reply of sorts.

For a while, he simply waited. Then, his imagination ran wild as he pictured Baabin realise the full gravity of their conflict and drop whatever it was he’d been doing, rush to find Bua, to finally meet him eye-to-eye instead of passive-aggressively exchanging songs via their playlist. Bua imagined him on a taxi bike behind a driver, stuck in ruthless Bangkok traffic, ready to jump off and break into a run. His phone was most likely dead, which was why he wasn’t hysterically mass-texting Bua, pleading with him to stay where he was. That, or Baabin wanted his arrival to be this huge, dramatic surprise, like it always happened in romantic movies. Then, for the sake of the genre, Bua would have to pretend he wasn’t waiting for him at all.

After a few minutes of daydreaming, however, a sudden realisation struck him. If Baabin were indeed on his way to him, he would be looking for Bua in the wrong place, since the last Instagram story Bua had posted was from the riverside restaurant, from an hour ago. He quickly filmed a new one then, a boomerang of himself looking all lost and unhappy, making sure the mall’s huge staircase was visible in the background.

Fishing rod successfully cast, Bua leaned back on the wall and yet again began to wait, resisting the urge to check seen by every five seconds (he checked it every half a minute instead, which somehow felt a little bit more dignified). Soon enough, he heard footsteps approaching him. He turned his head at the sound, ready to feign surprise at the sight of Baabin, except it wasn’t Baabin at all.

In fact, it was —

“Phi Fourmod,” Bua said in genuine, not feigned surprise.

“Wow,” Fourmod said as he sat down next to him. “You could at least pretend you’re not disappointed to see me.”

“I’m — What brings you here?”

“Your Insta story, duh.”

Ah. Wrong fish took the bait.

“I was in the area,” Fourmod continued. “Took my sister shopping — I lost a bet to her, long story. Anyway, I saw your story just now and figured that maybe you need some company.” He paused. “You look like shit. No offence.”

Bua didn’t reply with none taken, because that would be a very obvious lie.

“Is it Baa again?”

Something in the tone of Fourmod’s voice made Bua bristle. “Don’t do that,” he said.

“Don’t do what?”

“Pity me.”

The thing was, Bua didn’t particularly mind being pitied. From some people, notably his mothers, he tolerated it. From some, like Chian and Baabin, he was even seeking it sometimes: when Bua was in a very particular mood to be babied, swaddled in warm affection by someone he loved, it really wasn’t all that bad to appear small and pathetic.

He couldn’t stand the mere idea of being pitied by Fourmod.

“I’m not pitying you. I just feel — I don’t know — responsible kind of. He’s my best friend.” Fourmod was silent for a bit, playing with a charm hanging from his bag. “You know, back when I found out that he was stringing you along because of me, I encouraged him to go for it. For you.”

Bua blinked at him. “You feel bad because you gave Baa your blessing to date me?”

“I don’t know. Sort of, yeah. I mean, he’s a handful.”

For a bit, neither of them spoke. It was the kind of comfortable, easy silence Bua had wished for the last time he met up with Fourmod. They really were becoming friends, which was wild, all things considered.

“Chian is coming back on Sunday,” Fourmod said out of the blue. He looked like he was having some sort of intense inner battle with himself on whether he should say the next thing out loud or not. “I’m going to meet him at the airport. Wanna come with?”

Bua felt a pang of familiar longing. He really was missing Chian. Still, he said, “I wouldn’t wanna third wheel you guys.”

“You can take Baa with you. We can livestream the entire thing and shit.”

“Should we make a welcoming banner?”

“Hey, that would be fun, actually.”

Bua imagined it vividly. Himself as a cameraman, filming Fourmod and Baabin bicker over the proper way to hold the banner. Chian’s huge grin upon seeing them. How Fourmod would quickly shove his side of the banner into Baabin’s hands because he would want to run up to Chian — only to stop in front of him, unsure and embarrassed about being affectionate in public. How Chian would take the matter into his own hands by dropping his carry-on luggage and wrapping Fourmod in his arms. How Bua would give them a few minutes before chiming in, hey, lovebirds, me and Baa are here too. How he and Baabin would tease the hell out of Fourmod for his red cheeks and his reluctance to let go of Chian’s hand.

Bua felt himself smile against his will. Funny how life works. The four people who had put each other through an absolute wringer, and yet they were continuously drawn to each other again and again.

“We should also go on double dates more often,” he said, feeling unreasonably optimistic out of the blue. “Shoot some videos and stuff. I feel like it would be fun. Why are you laughing?”

“Because you’re making plans,” Fourmod said. “See, you already forgave him.”

Bua opened his mouth to defend himself, but nothing came out.

He tried to picture it for a second: telling Baabin we’re done for good and blocking him everywhere on their social media. He shuddered. Silly comparison popped into his head: Baabin was just like Bua’s iPhone. Something essential he couldn’t live without, even though being glued to it constantly was unhealthy and seriously messed with his self-esteem.

Well, there was this thing called digital detox, after all. Maybe from time to time he could also practice something called Baabin detox.

“I really thought he would come,” Bua said. It came out brittle, like he was about to cry.

Fourmod turned to face him, and for a split second Bua thought, alarmed, that he was going for a hug. Thankfully, Fourmod only clapped him companionably on the shoulder.

Then, Fourmod’s phone dinged with an incoming LINE message.

“Chian?” Bua asked.

“No, my sister. I kinda just left her there. Gotta bounce, sorry.” Fourmod got up, slung his bag over his shoulder and paused to add, “Cheer up, Nong. And try not to kill that coconut head idiot, please.”

“No promises,” Bua chuckled. “Thanks for coming, Phi.”

The first thing he did on the train back home was check seen by of his Close Friends Instagram story. Baabin’s name was there, the third one after someone irrelevant to Bua at the moment. He opened Baabin’s Instagram page and stared at his profile photo, the same one he’d had for ages. He looked somewhat sad in it, Bua thought. But that was Baabin’s entire brand, wasn’t it? Sad boy club sticker on his pink headphones, and all.

Which club was Bua in, then? Depressed, but well dressed, probably.

Wistful, Bua watched the flickering blur of streetlights outside the train window. The airpods nestled in his ears were silent. He was craving some solid advice so badly. He had asked Ma, he had asked Mae. He had even asked Fourmod, even though the latter was very obviously biased.

Come to think of it, there was one more person Bua could ask.

And so, once he was off the train, he opened his chat with Chian and looked vacantly at it, thinking of all the things he wanted to text him.

Chian, Phi Fourmod invited me to meet you at the airport on Sunday. It made me so happy.

Phi Fourmod said that you’re glad that he and I are getting along. I wish Baabin felt the same way as you about it.

Do you also miss us talking? I need a best friend who is not also my boyfriend.

Instead of texting any of it, Bua did some mental calculations on what time it was right now in Toronto (around ten in the morning), checked the last time Chian had been seen online (recently) and pressed the LINE call button.

A few seconds later, Chian picked up his call.

“Hi there,” he said. “Can I call you back later? We’re having breakfast right now and—”

“No. It’s urgent. It’s a matter of life and death. Don’t you dare hang up on me right now.”

Chian was quiet for a bit, like he was weighing the urgency in Bua’s voice. Then Bua heard a slightly muffled sound of him excusing himself, a scrape of his chair against the floor, a door being opened and closed. Then a distant background sound of Toronto traffic, a weird echo of the noise that surrounded Bua here, in Bangkok, thousands of kilometres away.

“Okay, what’s up?” Chian asked.

“I need to know: what do you do when Fourmod gets jealous?”

Another pause. Then, “Is everything okay with you and Nong Baa?”

“Would I be asking you this if everything was okay?”

“Guess not. What do I do, huh… Well, not much. Try to be there for him, mostly.”

That wasn’t at all what Bua expected to hear. “Are you sure you heard me right all the way over there?” he asked. “Is the connection spotty? I didn’t ask what you would do if he were to lose a beloved pet or fail one of his stupid e-sports games.”

“No, I get that,” Chian said, ever so patiently. “But what else is there to do? I have nothing to hide, and he, well, I believe sooner or later he’ll get tired of getting suspicious when there’s nothing to be suspicious of.”

Bua took a couple of moments to take it in. “So, basically, patience,” he concluded.

“Exactly,” Chian said. “Listen, I know it’s frustrating sometimes. Maybe you need to try figuring out where it’s coming from, or something. But it’s either that or — you know.”

It was kind of endearing to Bua — Chian loving Fourmod so much that he couldn’t even force himself to utter the word breakup. Like he was afraid to speak it into existence.

There was some indistinct murmur in the background on the other side of the line, after which Chian said, “I’m sorry, Bua, but I have to go. Busy day ahead. I’m leaving for Thailand on Sunday, and my parents decided to pack a month's worth of activities in the time I have left here. Not to mention I need to find time to redo Mae’s nails before I leave.”

“Okay, okay. Poor you. Hey, wait a second.”

“What?”

“Bring me some maple syrup or whatever. Also, when you come back, let’s hang out. Just us, like we used to.”

Bua could hear the smile in Chian’s voice when he replied, “Of course.” There was an entire ocean and a great deal of land separating them, and yet it felt like for just a fraction of a second Chian materialised here, on a busy Bangkok street, to ruffle Bua’s hair in a rush of warm affection.

It was rowdy outside when Bua got home, people partying and play-fighting after a sesh at Ma’s bar. Not in the mood to interact with anyone, Bua went round the building, through the back door, where he dropped his stuff off in his bedroom before heading straight to the shower. As he scrubbed his body clean, he wished he could do the same for his mind. Give his brain a thorough rinse and get rid of all the self-doubt, worry and ache.

After the shower, he flopped down on the bed and woke up his phone. There, in its gallery, he clicked on an overflowing folder titled simply 🪷🥥. A barrage of his and Baabin’s silly selfies welcomed him, the most recent one from what felt like ages ago. It’s not any of their selfies Bua was looking for, however. He scrolled, and scrolled, and scrolled, until a familiar video thumbnail caught his eye. The corners of his mouth twitched in an almost-smile as he clicked the play button. Now, repeat what you just said, Bua heard his own no-nonsense voice behind the camera. Baabin was the only one in the frame, looking all sad and droopy, like a wet rag. He heaved a snot-nosed sob before replying, and Bua felt his chest tighten in anticipation, like he was physically present there in the video, experiencing the moment for the first time. Please be my partner, Baabin said obediently, his poor little face red and wretched from all the crying. He could barely look straight into Bua’s phone camera. After a few more seconds, dangerously close to fully bawling, Baabin let out a whine and went for a hug. That’s where the video ended — Bua recalled blindly pressing the stop button right as he returned the hug.

He had rewatched the video a truly embarrassing number of times and by this point knew it by heart. Back then, he had thought he’d use it to terrorise Baabin from time to time, especially when the latter was being sulky and unreasonable. In the end, however, Bua was the one who kept coming back to it again and again.

Maybe Baabin wasn’t the most pathetic one out of them, but neither was Bua. Maybe they were about the same on the patheticity scale. Sitting on it side by side, swinging their legs back and forth. Sharing airpods, holding hands and all that.

Abruptly, his thoughts were interrupted as Ma drew aside the strip curtain and peeked into his room.

“Ah, Minny said she saw you sneak in. I was about to text you to get your ass home. Come out to the parlour.”

“Don’t wanna,” Bua groaned and turned away from her for emphasis.

He heard Ma sigh in frustration.

“Come and sort shit out with your little boyfriend, or I’m not letting him in anymore.”

That got Bua’s attention. Before he could ask any questions, however, she swiftly left the room. And so he was forced to go and see for himself.

Among the obnoxious electronic music and the weed haze from all the rowdy tourists, Baabin looked truly out of place in there. He was sitting on the very same couch as Bua had been that one night they had a fight over some foreigner hitting on Bua. On the very same spot, even. In his hands, Baabin was holding his phone. However, he had a look of someone who only pretended to be on his phone to avoid being talked to, if his blank, glassy stare and unmoving fingers were anything to go by.

He didn’t see Bua approach and actually jumped a little in surprise when Bua sat down next to him. Neither of them said hello. They sat in silence, close but at the same time far enough away from each other that their knees weren’t touching.

After a couple of minutes, Baabin finally spoke. “While I was waiting for you, a couple of women your mom’s age asked me if I wanted to smoke a joint with them.”

Bua knew it was Baabin’s roundabout way of admitting he had been wrong for getting jealous that one time, and yet he still couldn’t resist letting pettiness take over him. “Well, you were obviously asking for it,” he said, his voice dripping with vitriol. “Sitting out here like that.”

Baabin winced, but didn’t say anything.

There was another silent pause, and this time Bua was the first one to break it. “Why are you even here, anyway? I thought you’d come find me at my hangout spot. I was waiting for you there.”

“I know, I saw your story. But I — well. I was afraid to meet you in person.”

“Wow. Are you actually speaking your mind for once? Attention, citizens. Heavy snowfall is expected in Bangkok tonight.”

“Bua,” Baabin whined. He sounded close to tears. “Please, don’t be mean. I’m trying.”

“Okay, fine. Wait, did you say you were afraid to meet me? Why?”

“I thought you were going to break up with me,” Baabin mumbled. His hands were picking nervously at the frayed edges of his knee-ripped jeans. He kept glancing sideways, trying to establish eye contact, but Bua refused to give in, because he knew it would be game over for him.

Bua was so perplexed by this answer that the only thing that came out of his mouth was, “Huh?!”

“What else was I supposed to think? All those songs that you’ve added recently to our playlist—”

“I was just trying to scare you into talking, Baa.” Which, in retrospect, maybe wasn’t Bua's best idea. “And yet you came here. What made you change your mind?”

Instead of answering, Baabin showed his phone screen. He had his LINE chat with Fourmod open. The last two messages from Fourmod read:

damn you’re a loser

can’t believe you’re about to fumble such a bad bitch

To which Baabin’s reply was just a bunch of emojis illustrating the state of his profound misery: a weeping face (times ten), an explosion, a hammer (times three), a storm cloud, a person in a suit levitating. Seeing this part of their private chat gave Bua some mixed feelings. On one hand, it tickled his ego slightly — the bad bitch of it all. On the other, it didn’t escape his notice that it was now the second time Fourmod had to be the one to nudge Baabin towards a confrontation. Of course, this was what best friends were for. Still, Bua wished Baabin would grow a spine on his own.

“You’re so exhausting, Baa,” Bua said, and he sounded exhausted to his own ears.

“I’m sorry,” was all that Baabin said, helpless. He had scooted closer at some point, and now their knees were touching ever so slightly.

Ma passed by their couch with a tray of drinks for someone in one hand and a joint in the other. She looked their way and actually winked.

“I don’t want to have this conversation here,” Bua said, suddenly irritated. “Let’s go to my room.”

He took Baabin by the hand and dragged him away. Baabin followed, meek, willing to do about anything Bua would ask of him. He was holding onto Bua's hand so tightly that it hurt a little.

In the warm pink glow of his bedroom, Bua stopped and shook their linked hands. “You can let go now.”

Baabin obeyed, even if it looked like it pained him to do so. Free from Baabin’s grasp, Bua took off his yellow mesh shirt that he had thrown on after a shower, before walking out to the parlour. He noticed Baabin’s eyes slide hungrily over his exposed arms and the low cleavage of his white skintight tank top. Warmth pooled low in Bua’s belly at the attention.

Oh, the things he was willing to forgive just because he was feeling a bit horny after a week of having only his own hand for company. How embarrassing for him.

Bua sat on the bed, reclining back on his hands a bit. He looked Baabin up and down. The latter, tense and skittish, kept standing there, waiting for an invitation. “Sit,” Bua said, nodding at the bed, and Baabin did as he was told. He perched gingerly on the very edge of it, like he was still unsure it was allowed.

“Do you really think I would cheat on you?” Bua asked quietly.

“No!” Baabin exclaimed, panicked. “I mean, not really, but —” He tripped over his words and fell silent.

“Come on, girl, use your words. I believe in you.”

“I just — I know that I’m not perfect, right? I suck so bad, actually. I keep making you sad, even though I hate seeing you sad.” He paused as he gathered his thoughts. Bua didn’t dare interrupt, scared he’d spook the rare and fickle little bird that was Baabin’s honesty. “And all those guys that hit on you — what if one of them is in every way better for you than me? Like, objectively? What if you realise it? You’d leave me in a heartbeat.”

Bua didn’t even know what exactly he expected to hear, but it definitely wasn’t this.

“Why would I care how good any of them are?” he asked. “You really don’t get it, do you? I’m obsessed with you, Baabin.”

Baabin blinked at him, his face dumbstruck, like this was news to him. “You are?”

With a long-suffering sigh, Bua took Baabin’s hand in his and cocked his head at him. “Just how stupid is the rest of your friend group if you’re considered to be the smartest one?”

Baabin’s huge brown eyes welled up with tears. Oh, that was a deadly weapon no one could stand against, least of all Bua.

“They’re a-absolute i-idiots,” Baabin wailed and lunged forward to bury his nose in what seemed to be his favourite place on Earth — the sweaty crook of Bua’s neck. He fit in there so perfectly, encircled in Bua’s arms.

“You know there’s only one person I’d leave you for, and it’s Phi Lisa,” Bua was saying as he ran his palms up and down Baabin’s back. “I mean, it would be a lavender marriage, of course. The most legendary lavender marriage in history. Maybe I would still have you as my secret lover though… I think Phi Lisa wouldn’t mind. Then some paparazzi would catch us together, it’d get leaked everywhere online, and other Lilies would hunt our asses down to get revenge on Phi Lisa’s behalf.”

He could hear Baabin laugh wetly through the tears.

“And then what?” came the muffled question.

“She’d swoop in to save us, of course. Like the icon, the legend that she is.”

Baabin moved back to look him in the eyes, but not before planting a barely-there whisper of a kiss into the groove of Bua’s neck, right where his pulse was. His face looked just like in the video Bua had been rewatching half an hour ago: bright red, endearingly blotchy, and so very pitiful.

“Can I please kiss you? It’s all I’ve been thinking about for days,” Baabin said, desperation in his voice palpable.

Bua smiled at him.

“Kiss me under the Paris twilight, kiss me out on the moonlit floor,” he sang. His room was no luxury apartment in Paris, and instead of the blue shine of the moon, there was only warm light from his many novelty lamps. Yet Baabin still cupped Bua’s face in his palms to go in for an eager, open-mouthed, slightly salty kiss.

There had been times in the past when Bua found himself getting sick of an ice cream flavour he had deemed to be his favourite, or when he suddenly had gotten bored with listening to some song he’d been obsessed with for weeks. This, he thought as he slipped his hands underneath Baabin’s shirt to hold onto his waist, was never going to get old. The thrill running down his spine like a zap of electricity as Baabin deepened their kiss, the taste of whatever sweet treat he ate last wandering over onto Bua’s tongue. Baabin’s fingers dancing up the base of Bua’s neck to bury themselves in the silk-like warmth of his hair. Knees touching, legs sliding blindly over each other until it was Baabin sitting fully in Bua’s lap, their bodies pressed flush. This Bua could not fathom ever getting sick of.

They parted what felt like hours later, trying to catch their breath. Bua’s lower lip was stinging, like Baabin had bitten it at some point. Which he probably had. Panting, as if both of them just ran a marathon, they flopped down on their backs, side by side, their hands back to being linked.

Then Baabin raised his other, unoccupied hand and began studying his bare nails. He was frowning a little, but not in a sulky way. More like he was seriously considering something.

“Are you still mad that I went to get my nails done without you?” Bua asked. “Oh, come on. Chian is coming back this Sunday, and I’ll personally drag him all the way from Pu Chao no matter how jetlagged he is, so that he can do yours right away. Is that cool?”

“What?” Baabin said, like he was barely listening. “Ah, right. Yeah, do that.”

Now it was Bua’s turn to frown — in confusion. “What’s on your mind, love?”

Baabin glanced at him, suddenly shy. “Well,” he said, “one of us doesn’t have his nails done.”

It took Bua a whole minute to understand what he was getting at. Once realisation struck him, he couldn’t help but roll his eyes and laugh.

“And you, of course, have lube and condoms conveniently stashed in your little bag?” he said wryly. The silence that Baabin — his ears were a truly criminal shade of red — answered him with spoke louder than words. Bua went wide-eyed from disbelief. “Holy shit. You actually do?!”

“Just the second thing! I figured you’d have the — you know — lying around.”

“Lying around,” Bua repeated with a sarcastic eyebrow raise. “Okay, get your second thing, I’ll look under the bed for the other one.”

They dropped lube and a pack of condoms on the blanket and sat opposite each other, separated by these two most intimidating and intriguing objects in the universe. Bua chewed on his lip, curious to find out who’d have to make the first move. By the looks of it, it wasn’t going to be Baabin. Presently, he was too busy staring at Bua’s face. His gaze was so intent, it was as if he was trying to commit each of Bua’s features to memory because someone prophesied that he’d go blind tomorrow.

“What are you looking at?” Bua asked, self-conscious.

“I really like your eyes.”

Pause. Bua felt blood rush to his face. “But they’re blue.”

“Yes,” Baabin agreed with a fond little smile.

Delivering fatal blows with the simplest of words seemed to be Baabin’s superpower, and worst of all, it looked like he wasn’t even aware of it.

Flustered, Bua reached back for a pillow and hit Baabin square in the face with it. “So embarrassing, god. Shut up and finger me already.”

Thankfully, Baabin didn’t need to be told twice.

ibaaa (16:34): wanna come over?

Bua 🪷 (16:34): aren’t you supposed to be at the mall with Phi Fourmod

ibaaa (16:34): he went with Faifa and the others

ibaaa (16:34): I thought I’d rather spend time with youuuu 😘

Bua 🪷 (16:34): hmmmmm

Bua 🪷 (16:35): I can still say no and then you bailed on Fourmod for nothing

ibaaa (16:35): Buaaaaa

ibaaa (16:35): don’t do this to me T_T

Bua 🪷 (16:35): I’m joking, you dummy

In the Lisa shrine that was Baabin’s little bedroom, Bua lay across the bed, his head hanging slightly from the edge. He was busy editing one of his TikTok drafts. Now and then, he got sidetracked, unable to resist tickling Baabin’s bare feet that were resting on his stomach. Which was a dangerous activity to indulge in, considering how jumpy and ticklish Baabin was — twice now he nearly hit Bua in the chin.

“Posted,” Bua announced some time later and stretched his arms, liking the way Baabin stole a glance at his armpits.

Then, Bua heard the sound of his freshly posted video playing on Baabin’s phone. “Liked,” Baabin announced back. “Not the first like, though… damn, a whole bunch of people beat me to it.”

“Who cares. They hit like before even watching the video. But you need to stare at my funny face first, because you’re so obsessed with me,” Bua said as he knocked Baabin’s legs off himself to crawl over him and lie right beside. Baabin immediately snuggled closer, making sure their bodies were touching head to toe, like two halves of a pathongko.

“I am,” he admitted. He sounded so proud of himself, too. “Listen, I’ve been thinking —”

“This better be good.”

“It’s about our playlist.”

“Huh? What about it?”

Bua watched Baabin open Spotify. Their playlist was the first thing that popped up. Its cover picture was a selfie Bua had taken of them two on the day of the BLACKPINK concert, still in their seats, an hour or so before Baabin ran away. Bua loved this particular photo dearly. In a way, this was where their story had started, although Bua and Baabin from the photo had no idea what fate had in store for them. They hadn’t shared a kiss yet. They hadn’t even shared a smoothie at that point, actually. They’d been strangers to each other, brought together by one weird chain of events, where so many things could have gone differently. What if, for example, Fourmod hadn’t bailed on Baabin that day? Where would they all be right now? Would it still be Bua lying right now next to Baabin in his narrow bed, atop the pink sheets?

He wanted to think that yes, it would. Phi Lisa would’ve brought them together some other way.

“I was just thinking,” Baabin said as he scrolled through a few hours' worth of music. “Should we maybe remove all that ugly stuff in the middle? You know, breakup songs and such.”

Bua hummed. “Maybe not. Or, well, at least not yet.”

“Why not?”

“To keep you on your toes,” Bua said, playfully vindictive. “A little reminder to you, let’s say. And if you’re going to be on your best behaviour, maybe I’ll reconsider it.”

“Bua.”

“Don’t give those big boba eyes, darling.”

Grumpy that things didn’t go his way, Baabin huffed and moved to turn away. He was unsuccessful, however, as Bua caught him by the waist and pinned him down to kiss the frown off his face. The mood shifted instantly.

But just as Bua thought that instead of discussing botched Spotify playlists, they could be doing something more interesting — preferably horizontally — they heard an intentionally loud thud of a door being opened downstairs.

“Baabin!” Baabin’s mother called. “Get down here, we need another pair of hands! And you can take your boy as well!”

Bua looked at him, wide-eyed. “Am I hearing things, or did she just say your boy?”

“Yeah, well,” Baabin scratched his cheek, sheepish. “I guess my parents aren’t stupid either. Because I sure as hell haven’t told them anything.”

Well, one problem less. At least neither of them would have to figure out this entire coming out thing, now that both sets of their parents had sussed them out by themselves.

(Which was probably a testament to how shit they were at trying to be discreet.)

“I hope I’m a natural at this customer service stuff,” Bua said. “I need to make a good impression on your parents. Show them that I’m more than just a pretty face.” He paused. “Although, with a face this pretty, I’m guaranteed to get more tips, no?”

Baabin rolled his eyes, barely able to hold in a fond smile. He intertwined their hands and tugged, silently asking Bua to follow.

And Bua did.

Kiss and Make Up - Dua Lipa, BLACKPINK (added by buawaterlily)

Forever Young - BLACKPINK (added by BAABIN)