Chapter Text
Aphere’s birth is a fluke he will hear about for years.
It happens in Bangkok, by accident. His parents are Thai through and through, but his father, Arthit, has a business trip scheduled in Trang. His mother, Kanya, heavily pregnant and stubborn, refuses to let him go alone. She boards the plane with him, determined that her husband will not miss the birth of their youngest child.
She goes into labor minutes after they land.
“You couldn’t have waited a few hours?” Arthit asks, breathless and shaking. He sounds fond. He sounds terrified, even though they have done this twice before.
Kanya squeezes his hand hard enough to sprain his finger. He does not make a sound.
It is in that unfamiliar hospital, far from home, that Kanya meets Ellie. It is there that they talk. It is there that a friendship forms, quiet at first, then unbreakable.
It is there that Aphere and Vivian are born, few minutes apart, to different mothers.
It is there that Aphere is given his best friend.
“Rule number seven,” Vivian announces solemnly, holding out an ice cream in his small fist. It drips down his wrist. He looks apologetic and serious all at once.
Aphere takes it with a sniff. His knee still bleeds a little from when he was shoved by Vivian aside to reach the dinner table first.
“You still have to say sorry,” Aphere says. “You can’t just—”
“’M sorry,” Vivian says quietly. “It was waffles.”
“Yeah,” Aphere says, sighing. At five years old, they agree on one thing above all else. Waffles are the greatest food on the planet.
“Do you forgive me?”
“Of course,” Aphere says at once, smiling. “Rule number seven.”
Vivian grins back. Then Vivian’s older brother starts screaming in the next room, sharp and loud. The smile vanishes.
“You’re so lucky to not have a brother like mine,” Vivian mutters.
Aphere privately disagrees. Magus likes to act too cool for him, and it annoys him. He thinks he would rather have a little brother or sister. Ongsa is only the a year older than him anyway. They are grown up now.
The screamgets louder. Both boys wince.
Maybe not yet.
Rule number seven. No matter how angry you are at your best friend, you forgive them if they give you ice cream.
“That is the coolest bug I’ve ever seen,” Vivian says seriously, staring at the tiger beetle resting on Aphere’s palm. “And I’ve seen a lot of bugs. So I know.”
Vivian, age eight, wants to be an entomologist. Last month, he wanted to be a prince. Then he read about the monarchy and decided it was outdated and should be abolished.
Aphere gave him a dictionary for their birthday. Vivian reads it every night. He knows many words now.
“Bugs are important to the ecosystem,” Vivian once said, shoving a book at Aphere and scowling. “The monarchy isn’t important to anything.”
Aphere agrees. Still, he thinks it might be fine if his father were king.
He carefully puts the beetle back where he found it. A second later, Ongsa barrels around the corner and crashes into him.
“Oof,” Ongsa says, as if he is not the one who nearly fell into a bush. “Why are you standing there?”
“I can stand where I like,” Aphere says primly.
Ongsa snorts and pokes his shoulder.
“One day, maybe you’ll be nicer.” Ongsa says.
“I am nice,” Aphere says, offended.
“He’s nicer than you deserve,” Vivian snaps, which ends with Ongsa trying to shove him toward the pond.
Later, Vivian hugs Aphere tighter than usual. He tells him again how cool the bug was.
“Thank you for showing it to me,” Vivian says. “It really was the coolest.”
“It’s fine,” Aphere says, grinning crookedly as he ruffles Vivian’s hair. Vivian is not much taller than his brother, even though he insists he is far more mature. “Rule twenty-one.”
“Yeah,” Vivian says, grinning back. He leans in and flicks Aphere on the forehead. “See you tomorrow, loser.”
Next month, Vivian will probably want to be an astronaut. Aphere will be there for that too. He always is.
Rule number twenty-one. If you see something awesome, you show your best friend.
Aphere, in a decision he will later find painfully ironic, creates rule number nine when they are six and Vivian develops a brief crush on Magus. At six years old, this mostly means Vivian trailing after him and asking questions about school until Magus gets annoyed and shuts a door in his face.
“Gross,” Aphere declares, shining a torch straight into Vivian’s eyes inside their blanket fort. Vivian shrieks and flails. “New rule. Your best friend’s brothers are off-limits.”
“You’re a boy too,” Vivian says, wrinkling his nose. Sometimes he remembers his soul twin has cooties.
“Brothers and sisters then,” Aphere says, huffing. The thought feels strange. Like the time he stole one of his mother’s fancy chocolates and discovered a whole nut inside.
“But you only have a brother,” Vivian points out.
“Mom and Dad might buy me a little sister one day,” Vivian says confidently.
Aphere has to admit that makes sense. Neither of them knows where siblings actually come from. They have discussed it at length and decided there must be a shop. Or maybe a mail-order catalogue.
Vivian still does not understand why his parents chose Ongsa, even though Aphere thinks he is fine. For a brother. At least he is not like Magus.
“What about other people you’re related to,” Aphere asks. “Like cousins.”
Vivian thinks hard, then shakes his head. “No. Relatives of your best friend are off-limits. All of them. Agreed?”
“Agreed,” Aphere says.
They seal it with a spit shake. It is disgusting. The one time they suggested sealing a rule with blood, the adults reacted badly and started mentioning counselors.
Aphere does not think this rule will ever matter to him.
But it is fine.
_____
Aphere and Vivian sit side by side in front of their cakes, grinning in the warm glow of the candles. Twelve on each cake. Their hands are linked under the table. If anyone suggests they are too old for that now, Aphere plans to be furious.
“Make a wish,” Kanya says gently.
Arthit stands behind her with a cold beer and a soft smile. Off to the side are Ellie, and Poppy, Vivian’s parents.
When Aphere and Vivian blow out their candles together, Aphere squeezes his eyes shut. He makes the same wish he has made every year lately. Then, like always, he leans close and whispers it to Vivian so only he can hear.
“I wished Poppy would move closer,” Aphere murmurs. “So you wouldn’t miss him so much.”
Vivian pulls back with a watery smile and punches him lightly in the arm. When Vivian leans in to whisper his own wish, his voice wobbles too.
“I wished your dad would get that business deal he wants,” Vivian says.
Aphere flushes and hits him back, just as lightly. “That’s a waste of a wish.”
“It is not,” Vivian says firmly. Then he grins. “Hope you didn’t fill up on barbecue. We have a cake eating contest to finish.”
“You’re on, Vivian.”
They both regret it later.
Aphere stares at the blue icing smeared everywhere and nearly throws up again just looking at it.
“That is wrong,” Ongsa says solemnly from the bathroom doorway.
Aphere groans and throws a wet flannel at him. He really does not want anyone to see him like this. Especially Ongsa, who is Thirteen and very good at being annoying.
Aphere throws up again. Ongsa makes loud retching noises from the hall.
Vivian groans from the bathtub. “Why do you get the toilet,” he asks weakly.
Aphere wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “Because I’m a guest.”
Vivian throws up again.
Rule number one. Only your best friend gets to know your birthday wish.
Aphere is sixteen when his father gets sick.
He watches Arthit fade a little more each day until the man he knew is gone. At the funeral, Kanya’s hand grips his, pale and shaking. Aphere holds on, steady because he has to be. His brother is not there. He went back to enlist long before this and cannot return in time. That is what they say. Aphere does not know if he believes it. He does not have the energy to care.
The house fills with people. Ellie is there with Poppy. So is Vivian.
When Kanya drifts away to accept quiet condolences, Vivian steps closer without a word and slides his hand into Aphere’s. The tears rise fast and thick, catching in his throat. His hands start to shake. He does not notice until Vivian tightens his grip.
“I’ve got you,” Vivian murmurs.
Moments later, Vivian guides him outside, into the garden. Aphere sinks down behind a hedge and folds in on himself. His chest locks. His breath stutters. The world narrows.
Vivian sits with him and holds him through it. He presses Aphere’s hand to his chest, right over his heart. The steady beat gives him something solid. Vivian talks about football matches, about school clubs, about nothing important at all. His voice stays calm. His breathing stays slow.
He has done this before.
“Hey,” Vivian says softly, pressing their foreheads together. He squeezes Aphere’s hand where it still rests over his heart. “You back with me? I need your help running Debate, Book Club, and Dance Society. I cannot replace you this late in the year.”
“As if anyone else could stand you,” Aphere mutters, weak but breathing.
Vivian smiles and lets go. “Ready to go back inside?”
Not even close. “Yeah. I’m fine.”
“Liar,” Vivian says, standing and pulling him up.
They head back in. Ongsa catches Aphere’s eye from across the room. He is fifteen, mid growth spurt, all limbs and curls. He gives a small, serious smile and mouths, okay?
Aphere nods once.
Then he disappears into a sea of quiet apologies and polite grief from people who never knew that Arthit hated bow ties and ate cereal at three in the morning when sleep refused to come.
Vivian sleeps in his bed that night and he sobs into his shoulder for longer than he'd even thought someone could cry for.
Vivian lets him.
Rule number 16: When your bestie needs you there, you need to be there for your bestie.