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Rain pelted the windows of Namtan’s condo. Bangkok’s weather had turned into a full-on aerial warzone these past few days. Monsoon season. Streets were flooded, traffic crawled, and Namtan had taken a few unwelcome swims on her way to and from classes throughout the week.
A loud clap of thunder jolted Namtan’s attention away from her current task. She was cooking ramen in her small kitchen, humming softly to a song Film had shared with her.
Film…
Just the thought of her made Namtan smile. The last few months had been nothing short of wonderful. They’d spent countless hours together, on and off campus
Late nights in the library, where Namtan would “study” by watching Film sketch or highlight notes – trying not to be a distraction, yet somehow still ending up in a makeout session behind the historical non-fiction section.
Film sitting in the auditorium during her rehearsals, cheering and clapping the moment she finished a monologue – an act that guaranteed endless teasing from her castmates.
Double dates with Milk and Love that somehow always ended with her and Milk in trouble and in need of a rescue.
Namtan was happy. More than happy.
But something Milk had said a few weeks ago still gnawed at her.
“So, how are things with your girlfriend?” Milk asked casually, like she was asking about the weather.
“We’re not girlfriends,” Namtan answered, stirring her iced matcha so aggressively the ice clinked in protest.
Milk blinked. “Does Film know that?
Namtan paused. “I—I mean… probably? We’ve never… talked about it.” She tried not to sound defensive, but Milk’s raised eyebrow was not helping.
Milk leaned forward, elbows on the table, eyes shining with the distinct look of someone about to drag her lovingly and against her will. “So let me get this straight.”
“There’s nothing straight about you,” Namtan chuckled into her drink.
Milk rolled her eyes as she continued. “You kiss, you go on dates, you cling to each other like you’ll evaporate if you let go. You follow her around like a puppy, and she claps for you like she’s your own personal hype squad–”
“She claps very enthusiastically,” Namtan muttered, smiling despite herself.
“—and you still haven’t talked about whether you’re exclusive?” Milk finished, slapping a dramatic hand over her chest. “This is why Love says you’re blind. Honestly, you two are more disgusting together than we are.”
“I’m not blind,” Namtan protested weakly.
“Dude, you’re starring in your own romance drama and refusing to read the script. Are you sure you’re a theater major?”
Namtan groaned, dropping her forehead onto the table as Milk patted her shoulder sympathetically. “You need to talk to her,” Milk said. “Like… with words. Out loud.”
“I know, I know,” Namtan mumbled. “I just… what if I’m wrong? What if she doesn’t see me that way—”
Milk snorted. “She looks at you like you invented sunlight. Trust me. Talk to her. Or continue wallowing in your gay disaster corner over there.”
Namtan had decided—truly decided—that she needed to gather the courage to talk to Film about their relationship. She thought they were exclusive. She wasn’t seeing anyone else. Film didn’t seem to be either. But still… they’d never actually labeled anything.
She slurped her ramen as she thought about for the millionth time that week how she was going to bring up the topic to Film. She’d even asked Lunar for advice, but as usual, the tiny succulent, who’d been looking much healthier lately thanks to Film’s gentle care, offered no guidance.
Namtan was pulled from her thoughts when a loud knock on her door startled her so hard she dropped her chopsticks.
Padding to the door, she pulled it open and froze.
“Hi,” Film said, drenched head to toe, hair plastered to her face, water dripping onto the hallway rug. Despite looking like she had just wrestled the monsoon itself, she was smiling, dimples bright and intact.
“Film!” Namtan yelped. “Why are you… why do you look like you swam here?!” She quickly ushered Film inside, closing the door behind them.
“I was on my way to class, but then my professor emailed to say they couldn’t get out of their neighborhood.” Film shivered. “It was my only class today and the buses aren’t running. So if I wanted to get home, I would have to swim.”
“You should’ve called me!” Namtan fussed, guiding her further inside. “You’re soaked! Sit– no, wait, don’t sit. Stand! Actually, don’t touch anything, you might electrocute yourself.”
“You do realize that’s not how electricity works, right?” Film teased.
“Just—just give me a second!” Namtan said, a little panicked.
Film laughed. “Phi, this happens every monsoon season. I used to walk to class barefoot. I’m fine.”
“You are NOT walking around my place like this.” Namtan grabbed her hand and pulled her toward the bedroom. “Come on, you need dry clothes.”
Film tried not to blush at the contact. They’d held hands plenty of times before, but somehow it still sent butterflies through her stomach, leaving a warm fuzzy feeling she couldn’t quite hide.
In the bedroom, Namtan rummaged through drawers before handing Film a soft pair of pajama pants, an oversized t-shirt, and a towel. “Here.”
“Thank you,” Film said sweetly, already starting to pull off her soaked shirt.
Namtan squeaked, spun around so fast she almost snapped her neck, and slapped both hands over her eyes. “I—I’ll wait outside! In the living room! Or the hallway! Or… another country!”
“If you did that, I think I’d miss you too much.”
Namtan turned red, not knowing how to respond.
Trying to recover, she leaned in for a quick kiss but with her eyes squeezed shut, she completely missed and kissed Film on the nose instead.
Film snorted.
Mortified, Namtan bolted only to walk directly into the doorframe. She muttered a hurried apology to it and disappeared into the hallway, leaving Film giggling behind her.
She leaned her forehead against the closed door, whispering to herself, “Be normal. Just once. Please.” Then she turned and sank onto the couch, trying to look calm as she waited for Film.
A few minutes later, Film emerged warm and dry. Her hair was still damp, but Namtan’s chest fluttered a little seeing her wearing her clothes – a dizzying mix of affection and… more.
Namtan looked away, pretending to focus on the couch cushions. “Ok, so I was thinking I could cook something, and we could watch a movie and maybe… cuddle?”
Film tilted her head. “Cuddle?”
Namtan’s face went up in flames. “Only if you want to! I mean you don’t have to want to, but I want to if you want to want to—”
Film laughed, cheeks pink. “Yes, Phi. I want to.”
“Right! Ok! So, I think I have some stuff to make curry. Or I can make you ramen, I know I have that.”
She was walking back to the kitchen, listing off more options for Film when the lights flickered–
–then shut off completely, plunging the condo into darkness.
“Uh… no problem!” Namtan said too brightly, immediately rummaging through drawers. “Candles! I have candles!”
Film watched as she came back to the couch holding a random collection of candles with varying scents like lavender, lemon, something labeled “Autumn Library,” and one titled “Intense Lesbian Energy.”
Namtan lit all of them.
Somehow, the chaotic blend of scents was… cozy.
She settled onto the couch, and Film instantly curled into her side, clinging to her arm and resting her head on her shoulder.
“Perfect,” Film murmured, the candlelight dancing over her face.
Namtan pressed a soft kiss to her hair watching the flames of the candles flicker in the darkness as the storm outside raged on.
They couldn’t cook. They couldn’t watch anything either. So it became the perfect moment to just… talk.
About everything.
Film’s fingers absentmindedly traced circles on Namtan’s arm. “My little sister has decided she wants to be a cat doctor.”
“A what?” Namtan responded with a grin.
Film smiled. “Exactly my reaction. I asked if she meant vet and she said “No, Phi! Cats need therapy.”
Namtan burst into laughter. “Honestly, she might be onto something.”
Film giggled.
“My brother sent me a thirty-minute voice note last week.”
Film’s eyes widened. “Thirty minutes?”
“Half of it was him bragging about making the starting lineup,” Namtan said, rolling her eyes. “And the other half was him boasting that he got front-row seats for my next play.”
Film smiled softly. “He really loves you.”
“He does,” Namtan admitted. “Embarrassingly so. My parents too. They keep every program from anything I’ve ever been in. My mom almost framed the poster from the university showcase.” She fiddled with Film’s fingers before gently intertwining their hands.
Film laughed. “My parents pretend to be shocked every time I buy a new sketchbook. As if they don’t already know I’m going to fill it in two days.”
“They act surprised?” Namtan asked.
“Every single time.” Film sighed dramatically. “The other day my mom said “Another one? Didn’t you just get one?” And I told her, “Yes Mae, but that one is full of my feelings.”
Namtan laughed, leaning her head against Film’s. “I love hearing you talk about them.”
Film’s voice softened. “I love talking to you.”
The rain had settled into a steady hum as they shared about their week and dreams, the kinds of conversations that slipped into the heart without asking permission.
“I want to travel,” Film murmured. “Not far. Just… places I’ve only drawn. Paris. Whales jumping out of the ocean. Maybe even a trip to see Pluto.”
Namtan chuckled. “I want to perform abroad someday. Broadway. I don’t even care if it’s just for a small audience. As long as I’m doing what I love.”
Film nodded thoughtfully. “You’ll always have me as a loyal audience, Phi. Even in the future.”
Namtan’s chest warmed at that single word.
Future.
“You… think we’ll still be in each other’s lives then? In those futures.”
“I hope so,” Film said softly, squeezing Namtan’s arm and meeting her gaze. “I really do.”
Something unspoken shimmered behind her eyes – hope, fear, something fragile and brave all at once.
Namtan smiled, looking into those warm brown eyes. “Me too.” She brushed a strand of Film’s hair behind her ear.
Film hesitated. “Phi… can I ask you something?”
Heart in her throat, Namtan whispered, “Yeah?”
Film exhaled shakily, as if the question had been sitting in her chest for days. “When you talk about the future… do you ever picture us as… official?”
Namtan froze, every thought in her brain suddenly turning into a static-filled buzz.
Then, in a very small voice she said, “I… actually wanted to talk to you about that.”
Film’s eyebrows lifted. “Really?”
Namtan nodded, fingers twisting nervously the hem of her shirt. “I thought we were exclusive. I mean, I hoped we were. But I didn’t want to assume and scare you off or make things weird or–.”
Film’s smile spread slowly, beautifully, dimples deepening.
“Namtan,” she said gently, “I haven’t even looked at anyone else.”
It hit Namtan so hard she had to blink to make sure what Film said was real. She breathed out, relief and joy written all over her face. “So… we are?”
Film nudged her shoulder playfully before snuggling back into her side. “Yeah. We are.”
Namtan melted, leaning down to steal a kiss.
“Phi!” Film squeaked through her laughter, leaning away.
Namtan followed, peppering kisses across her face, laughing breathlessly as she did. She wanted to store every second of this moment away forever.
“Babiiiii,” Namtan cooed.
Film dissolved into giggles, lost in the warmth of Namtan’s arms. “What does that even mean?”
“It means, you’re mine,” Namtan said simply, like it was the most obvious truth she’d ever spoken.
Film smiled, caressing Namtan’s face and kissing her again, pouring all her feelings into that one soft, slow kiss.
“Say it backkkk,” Namtan whined, pouting.
“Why?” Film laughed.
“Just say it!”
“I don’t want to.”
“Come on, babi.”
“I’m not saying it.” Film swatted her shoulder playfully, still laughing.
“If you don’t want me to call you babi, then what should I call you?
“Film!” She replied, attempting to be serious and failing miserably.
Namtan buried her face in Film’s neck. “Don’t you like me?” she asked dramatically, muffled and ridiculous.
Film laughed, tugging Namtan’s head up so that their eyes met. “Of course I do.” She paused, then added softly, “Babi.”
Namtan’s grin exploded across her face before she tackled Film back onto the couch, the two of them dissolving into a heap of laughter and tangled limbs.
Thunder rolled in the distance, but inside, wrapped in candlelight and warmth, the world felt steady. Quiet. Safe.
Their futures, whatever they held, already felt a little brighter knowing they were choosing each other.