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Love isn’t easy.
It never was.
Still, unrequited love is far, far too common in this world for him to whine and moan about his misfortunes.
There are things worse than him choking back his tears whenever that person laughs at his jokes, leans in and blows fake best-friend-kisses and watches, oblivious, as he stretches a smile of his own when all he wants is to stop his foolishness and just admits there and then about his feelings towards the other.
There are things much worse.
Far worse things to worry about...
Take for example the global drought, rising sea temperatures and rampant pollution. Then there’s the sting of racial discrimination or even something as small as the price of his favorite bread spiking because of a sugar shortage. Even worse, nothing haunts him quite like the fear of failing to graduate. It sends a chill down his spine just thinking about it.
There are times when he sits in thought, asking himself.
Does he know?
He hopes not.
He hopes he does.
He hopes not.
He hopes he does.
Then he starts hoping not again and it’s an endless loop of hoping and not; a cruel, recurring ghost he can’t seem to exorcise.
An endless, suffocating loop of What if? followed quickly by God, no—a pendulum swinging between longing and despair, spiraling back into that familiar agonizing hope, only for him to immediately claw it back. He spends his days trembling on the edge of a confession, only to retreat into the safety of his own fear.
Every time he builds up the courage to speak, the shadow of abandonment looms larger, forcing him to cower. Paralyzed by the terror of rejection and convinced that if he reaches out, he will lose the only thing he has left: the friendship of the person he was so tragically foolish enough to love.
Tle would rather live in the cold silence of a lie than face the day Firstone looks at him with pity, or worse, walks away forever.
Tle would rather cower away with fear of being rejected and abandoned by that very friend he, so unfortunately, fell in love with.
Something that was never supposed to happen.
Yet it did.
He fell in love.
And what’s even more terrifying is the thought of losing a years-long friendship, a devastating realization that years of friendship could crumble, just because he was so stupid enough to fall for the one person he shouldn't have.
So he sucks it up.
Even when it hurts and burns him to his core, scorching him like a slow-acting acid eating through his chest every time those eyes, the ones Tle would die for, linger on or chase that silhouette that could never belong to him.
Even when he could feel his soul thinning, his happiness draining away and bleeding out like water through cupped hands, leaving him nothing but a dry, empty husk the longer Firstone’s eyes stray from him...
Tle sucks it up.
Keng had told him to stop. He had yelled at him to move the fuck on one night when Tle came home piss drunk, bawling his eyes out for a love he could never receive. He told him it was never worth it. That it was never worth wounding himself for something that will never be reciprocated.
And Tle knows.
Above everybody else who knows.
He hears it.
He knows it.
He gets it.
He hears him loud and clear.
Every.
Single.
Damn.
Fucking.
Time.
But every time he sees his smile, those god-forsaken smiles... He feels his heart clenches. It tightens in his chest like a physical blow, cramping within the cage of his ribs. As if it is its way of telling him, it wants to be let out. It wants to be heard, to let his feelings finally pour out.
Just like that, to hell with it, and he is back to square one.
Trapped in a cycle of falling for his best friend, all over and over again.
And again.
And he’s at the point where he doesn’t know whether he hates that he loves him.
Because he does.
He truly does.
With all his damn heart.
“Firstone.”
He remembers it with agonizing clarity. The moment how he extended his hand toward him, that smile of his lighting up his entire face. A soft, effortless smile played on his lips.
If angels were real and Tle believed in them, he could have sworn he was looking at one in that very moment. The way the sides of his eyes wrinkled and how the strands of his hair fell almost perfectly on his forehead, even the way his lips were curled into a smile, so blinding, Tle didn’t know how he managed to keep staring.
Tle knew then.
Even for someone who was barely fourteen at that time.
It wasn’t because he was envious about the fact that Wannakorn could make friends not even a span of a minute within a room crowded with people. It wasn’t the fact that they were two polar opposites. Wannakorn was rainbows and glitter bombs, the light and color amidst the throng of people eager to bask in his resounding energy. Tle was books and libraries, finding more solace in the soundlessness of confined spaces and smell of untouched pages and covers. Their differences from one another have always been perceptible. Still, it wasn't that. Not even the fact that their teacher always played favorites.
Infatuation.
It was because of his infatuation to him.
He was infatuated.
Like really, really fucking infatuated.
A crush.
Firstone was that to him.
His crush during secondary school.
And really.
He had thought it would just be that way. He had thought it would just be a phase. A stage where he was starting to discover emotions and unknown feelings he had never once paid attention to as a child, who only cared about candies he had never tried or games he had never played. He thought it was just a puppy love that he would eventually get over with. That once he transitioned to another year, things would be different. More mature. Better. A lot less like a kid shying away just because his crush glanced in his direction.
But it wasn’t.
It didn’t go away.
It didn’t just stay that way.
The boy with stubby limbs and pudgy cheeks remained unforgettable and his name, Firstone, was engraved there within a compartment somewhere.
At thirteen, Tle couldn’t have known.
Too young to comprehend, to understand...
He couldn't have grasped how a simple crush would swell into something heavy, how that seed of an emotion would later on grow into something big.
He couldn't have known it would grow into something far bigger and heavier than he could ever have prepared himself for.
˖ ⏱︎.ᐟ
“What are you doing?”
His heart nearly leapt out of his chest when a voice suddenly spoke from behind him. He spun around, brows furrowed in annoyance at whoever had dared to disturb his peace but he quickly softened his expression the moment he realized who it was.
“Did I startle you?” The boy asked with a laugh. “Sorry,” but he didn’t look the slightest apologetic. His grin didn’t fade and it remained plastered on his face as he tried to peek over his shoulder, craning his neck to see what he was up to. “Why are you all the way out here by yourself? Everyone else is over there,” he added, gesturing with his chin toward the crowd.
Tle didn't respond and simply kept staring at the boy.
“Do you recognize me?” The boy asked, blinking his eyes. Hopeful for an answer. But when Tle made no effort to answer, he continued. “We’re classmates. I sit in front, beside Ping, the tall-” he stopped, realizing Tle had not spoken at all. Didn’t even react. “Oh,” he frowned, realizing they have not introduced themselves. “I’m sorry. I should have introduced myself first. I just assumed-”
“I know you.”
“Huh?”
“I said I know you.”
“Really?” Tle nodded and the boy clapped his hands enthusiastically with a giggle. “I didn’t think you would! I was honestly about to tear up,” he added jokingly.
It still didn’t stop him as he introduced himself.
“Firstone,” he said, extending a hand as he offered it for a shake. “I’m Firstone.”
“I just told you I know you.”
Who wouldn’t?
Firstone just laughed and simply ignored Tle, taking Tle’s hand on his for a firm shake.
“Hi, P’ Tle! I know you, too.”
“FIRSTONE!”
“That’s me!”
Firstone yelled back at the sound of his name. Rather than releasing Tle’s hand, he simply pulled him along instead.
“Come on, join us! Let’s play.”
˖ ⏱︎.ᐟ
“And this is my stop,” Firstone said as the car came to a stop, halting before the gates to his home. He unbuckled his seatbelt before looking over at the driver’s seat where Tle was already looking at him with a smile on his face. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
Tle simply shook his head. “Nothing. Am I not allowed to smile anymore?”
“No, you can’t. You look creepy,” Firstone countered. He reached out a hand, smoothing a palm over his face to wipe the smile away from Tle. Tle let out a sharp groan of protest, a sound lost to Firstone’s lighthearted laughter as he finally pulled away.
“Thanks for tonight, Phi. The ice cream was good. Can we go back there sometime again?”
“As long as you’re treating next time.”
“Obviously! What, you think I’m just some charity case?”
Tle laughed.
Firstone glared.
“I didn’t say anything. Don’t put words into my mouth.”
“Whatever, I’m going. Bye!” Firstone climbed out of the car, popping the door open. But before he stepped away, he leaned back in, poking his head back inside. “Drive safely, Phi. The roads are quiet this late. Text me when you get back?” Firstone lingered, waiting for a verbal response. When Tle offered nothing but a quiet nod, he finally took that as his cue to turn and walk away.
“Goodnight, P’ Tle.”
Firstone said his goodbye and eased the car door shut. The click sounding far too final. The world felt quiet as he turned toward the gate but he didn’t get far.
Behind him, the driver-side door slammed shut, and Tle’s voice broke the night air, calling his name and his silhouette sharp against the glow of the headlights.
“Firstone, wait,” Tle called, heart leaping into his throat.
“Huh?”
A moment lapse in judgment, a feverish pull, that he didn’t know where it came from. For a heartbeat, a wild, nameless impulse surged through Tle, driving him out of the car before he could think.
But as quickly as it came, it vanished, leaving him stranded in the cold night air. The spark died the second he stepped into the light.
And it was too late to retreat.
Firstone looked right at him.
Silent and waiting.
Tle felt the heavy thud of his pulse in his ears.
What was he supposed to say?
The question echoed in the void of his mind.
Shit.
Say something.
He didn’t know what to say. His mind was a total-blank. His tongue felt like lead; no words formed, no excuses came. His voice remained locked away.
Tle stood there. He was paralyzed, lips parted in a silent plea for words that wouldn’t come as he watched Firstone’s confusion grow.
Their eyes met.
And a wave of helplessness washed over him.
His composure crumbled.
It made no sense how Firstone could have this much gravity, pulling at Tle’s soul without saying a single word. How terrifying the power he held over him, undoing him completely while doing nothing at all. How Firstone could be so still, yet move him so violently.
Firstone looked so effortless. He was breathtaking as he stood there, framed by the moonlight, looking so achingly beautiful that it hurt.
How could someone look so pretty? How could he look so captivating, barely a few feet away, so close and yet so far for his hands to reach?
Firstone was so close enough to touch, yet the space between them felt like an ocean Tle wasn’t just brave enough to cross yet.
If only he had the courage to bridge the gap.
If only he could just walk up to him.
If only he could say, “You have no idea what you do to me,” and confess how his chest constricts with every stolen glance, every soft smile Firstone threw his way.
But he couldn’t.
The confession burned at the back of his throat.
Tle fought the magnetic pull of Firstone’s presence, jaw clenched as he resisted the overwhelming pull to take that one, final step.
If he moved, would Firstone stay?
One step forward and would Firstone hold his ground?
Or would he simply turn and walk away and leave Tle alone in the silence?
A gamble Tle wasn’t ready to take.
“Is there something on my face?”
The question was like a splash of cold water. His trance shattered as the sound of Firstone’s voice pulled him back to reality.
Tle tore his eyes away and felt the heat rise to his neck.
He felt exposed, his heart still frantic.
“Nothing,” he managed. His voice was thin, fragile and barely audible but he forced his lungs to work. He opened his mouth, the truth clawing at his throat.
“I,” he choked. The real words sitting heavy on his tongue and then he faltered.
He took the easy way out.
“I just realized I didn’t say goodnight back.”
Tle chickened out.
Pathetic.
He could have said anything else.
He could have told the truth.
He had the moment in his hands and he had let it slip.
He had folded.
Fucking coward.
“That was it? You could have just texted me!” Firstone snorted. He waved goodbye over his shoulder as he finally stepped through the gate, leaving Tle standing in the quiet street.
“Alright, get out of here. Drive home, you weirdo.”
Fuck.
˖ ⏱︎.ᐟ
“If I had told you, would you have chosen me?”
“Maybe if you had,” Firstone couldn’t finish as a broken sob took over. His words were swept away by the tears that didn’t stop falling.
Neither Firstone’s.
Nor Tle’s.
How utterly unfair.
It was a sick kind of cruelty that even at that moment, through the blur of their shared tears, Firstone remained the most beautiful thing Tle had ever seen. Even with the tears running down his cheeks, he still looked his most radiant in the wreckage that Tle inflected himself.
And in that moment, Tle realized with a terrifying clarity that he would have let the world burn to ash around them if it meant he could hold on for just one more second.
He was a man standing in the ruins of his own heart, yet he was still willing to give up his soul, his pride, his future, his very air. A hard realization at how in that very moment, he was willing to let everything go just to hold on to Firstone and tell him it was okay.
To pull him close and whisper that everything was okay.
To comfort him.
To lie to them both.
And say it didn’t matter.
That they were okay.
Even if they truly weren’t.
Even if Firstone was the one who broke his heart.
“Maybe if you had, if only you had, Phi, we wouldn’t be in this position.”
The what and the if’s…
Tle had once believed he was standing on solid ground but the tide had turned without a sound. The safety of the shore was nothing but an illusion.
Now, he was drifting. A slow, cruel pull into the grey vastness as the cold water claimed him inch by inch as he drifted into the deep. The shore was nothing more but a thin, mocking line on the horizon.
Yet the most agonizing part wasn’t him drowning.
It was seeing exactly how far away home had become, knowing he would never see it again.
He would never see him again.
Far from being rescued.
Further away from Firstone.
If he had known all those times, if only he had the courage to tell him his true feelings, it wouldn’t have been too late for them.
For him.
Then there wouldn’t be Phuping in the picture.
It would have been him standing right there beside Firstone.
Waiting for him down the aisle.
The burn of the liquor he’d desperately forced down was nothing compared to the playback. He had tried to drown the memory, but the alcohol refused to do its job and only seemed to polish it. Every time he closed his eyes, he was back there, watching his own undoing. He had hope for a blackout but all he got was a front-row seat to his own heartbreak.
Unable to numb the pain away from his shattered heart.
Firstone’s voice echoed with a terrifying clarity colliding against the inside of his skull, each syllable a heavy, rhythmic blow that left him breathless and leaving a physical weight into his brain.
It was the kind of ache that didn’t just hurt. It occupied him.
Like a lead, thick and clotted, sitting heavy in his throat.
He had laid himself bare and the result had become a weight he would have to carry in his bones forever.
Everything all at once.
In the end, at the bottom of it all, everything was just pain.
An overwhelming agonizing and incessant pain.
Yet he still loved him.
He would always love him.
With all his damn fucking heart.
What an ultimate betrayal of his own heart.
Unfair, he thought.
But truth rarely concerned itself with being kind.
Still how foolish of him to have not known?
They were just friends.
Always just friends.
How truly foolish of him to think anything more…
To imagine more, to hope for more.
Only to suffer the consequences of falling in love with his own best friend.
He shouldn’t have kissed him.