Chapter Text
1.
Teetee’s never been one to remember insignificant things long term.
It’s not that he’s forgetful by nature, though Wave would differ on it, but that he’s good at categorizing what’s important to remember long term and what not. Like the dinner he had with North a few nights back; both had forgotten their wallets back at the apartment and got together enough money to share a pad prik gaeng, fulfilling his crave on his sweet but spicy tooth. That’s important, a key memory for their friendship… probably.
He doesn’t remember his assignments’ due dates though, never has done. He’s got a calendar for that, and to write down North’s birthday too. He knows it’s a month before his but has never guessed it right in the end. Wave has been kind enough to always tell him beforehand what he wants this year—like the annual notification, reminding him a week before its due.
He's been aware of this fact for a long while, maybe by his own accord or his mom’s nagging, complaining he’s always forgetting to remind her things, as she is just as forgetful. Either or, he embraced this fact like another part of his personality, which is surprising enough when he remembers something people are not expecting him to, like,
“P’Por, don’t forget your doctor’s appointment for tomorrow.”
Por hums in acknowledgment, and the entire table goes silent.
Teetee interrupts his fidget toy time to look around, catching the sight of at least three of his friends like Thomas and Firstone, who look elsewhere soon enough. But Patji looks at him a while longer, until Teetee’s making a weird face and Patji laughs, going back to his laptop.
He doesn’t think much of it. Doesn’t even remember this happened in the first place. He is, however, found in a similar situation a few days later.
“Pip, did you load the washer?” Teetee asks, skimming through the manga volumes he borrowed from Kong.
“Shit, I forgot,” Por curses, and pats on Teetee’s shoulder on his way out the room, mumbling a low thanks.
Teetee just nods back, eyes still on his manga. That is, until he finally looked back at the third person in the room.
“What?”
“How did you remember?” Auau inquires.
“Remember what?”
“To tell him.”
“Tell him what?” Teetee answers in a question again, confused.
Auau scoffs, not because he thinks Teetee is pulling his leg, but because he knows Teetee doesn’t have a clue what he’s talking about.
“Forget it.”
Teetee scoffs then, mocking him. “Whatever.”
Third time’s a charm, however, because it’s finally until Teetee recited by memory Por’s national ID number when the older was filling up information for an interdepartmental elective, that his friends decide they’ve had enough. Por just writes it down without doubting him for a second, mutters the same low thanks, and runs back to the administration office to give his enrollment form to his senior.
“What’s going on?” Kong asks straight away.
“What do you mean?” Teetee asks back, looking inside his bag of chips. He has at least two more chips.
“How do you remember P’Por’s ID number?” Patji inquires, disbelief in his tone.
Teetee doesn’t answer, lines up the bag of chips against his mouth instead to catch the last few crumbles. Kong snatches the bag away, and Teetee complains like a toddler without its lollipop.
“What? It’s easy to remember.” Teetee frowns, making hands at the bag.
“It’s an ID number, no one remembers that.”
“Well, I don’t know what you want me to say.”
Patji interjects, “Do you remember your own ID number?”
“No, are you crazy? It’s crazy long.” Teetee laughs.
“But you remember P’Por’s.” Kong points out.
“Cause it rhymes. First it’s five, then comes two twos, then a four, with a three and—”
“Okay, okay.” Kong interrupts again.
They’re followed by a few seconds of silence, and Teetee stands up to throw away his now empty bag of chips, wondering what’s taking Por so long. When he’s back at the table, Patji and Kong are having a conversation with their eyes instead. They turn to him.
“Why are you both looking at me like I’m crazy?” He asks, feeling on the spot now that he has nothing to distract himself with. He wants to avoid whatever’s coming next. What if Por needs his help? He’s always been bad with directions. “Anyway, I’ll—”
He tries to stand up, but his friends tug him back to sit down.
“Tee, I’m gonna ask you a question, and I want you to think about it really hard.” Kong announces, both hands on the table, still holding onto him.
“Not too hard, though, or your head’s gonna explode,” Patji jokes, earning an elbow to the rib.
“Sounds serious.”
“It’s not. Well, maybe.”
They wait, and wait, while Kong makes faces, trying to say it in the best way possible, and Patji loses his patience,
“Do you have a crush on P’Por?” He asks, finally.
It felt like a tensed string finally snapped. Like the planets stopped moving, and the oxygen in the air suddenly disappeared. Teetee couldn’t move, or say anything to that, too preoccupied with trying to understand why his heart was suddenly beating like crazy; why it felt like the chemistry in his brain had suddenly reached the result in an experiment he didn’t know he was in.
“Excellent, you broke him.” He hears Kong say, but the voice sounds far away.
His eyes are still unfocused by the time Por finally arrives, and with a small touch to Teetee’s shoulder, it’s like the spell breaks.
“Are y’all good?” He asks, looking at Teetee, who has not said or moved yet.
“We’re fine,” Patji reassures, with Kong coming up with a topic to talk about, maintaining Por’s attention elsewhere but on Teetee, stiff as a statue.
2.
“It’s not that I haven’t asked myself that,” Teetee finally opens, a week later.
He’s eating ice-cream with Wave near campus (read: bribed Wave’s attention and time with ice-cream after classes), knowing that if someone was going tell him things straight on, it would be him. He had already explained everything by the time Wave was finishing up his ice-cream, aka, he needed to get on with it.
“It’s that… It’s P’Por.”
Wave frowns, munching on the last bit of his ice-cream cone. “Which means?”
“Who doesn’t have a crush on P’Por?”
“I don’t.” Wave scoffs.
“Because you have bad taste,” Teetee mocks. Wave just rolls his eyes.
“So, you want me to have a crush on him?”
Teetee snaps his head back, frowning. “No!” He all but screams.
“Then you want to be the only one to have a crush on him?” Wave asks next.
“No… I think. I don’t know.” Teetee frowns.
His back’s against the wall, figuratively. Wave’s always been good at making you feel pressured; at least Teetee.
“Remember Ohm? My friend?” Wave asks then, playing with the plastic wrap from Teetee’s ice cream sandwich.
“The blond one? What about him?”
Wave fishes out his phone, taps on it a few times then shows the screen to him, his LINE conversation with Ohm open.
ohmmnet
wave btw
do u have por’s number?
the cute TA senior
Teetee clenches onto the phone until Wave’s yanking it back.
“And what did you say?” Teetee asks, impatient, trying to have a look at the phone again.
“I changed the topic” Wave locks the phone and puts it away before Tee could read the following message saying I wanna ask him where he got that cute shirt omg. “But he’s been nagging me.” He lies.
Teetee pouts, thoughtful.
“P’Tee, you can’t be this dense.”
“I’m not!” He talks back. “I just feel like you all expect me to do something about it.”
“About your non-crush on P’Por?” Teetee nods. “Not really. I think we’re just all wondering why you haven’t done anything yet. Do you think he’ll reject you?”
Teetee shakes his head.
“Are you scared?”
He shakes his head again.
“I think it’s clear enough. I… I’m comfortable like this, and I don’t think it’s that serious?” He thinks out loud.
Honestly, he’s never posed this question on himself before. From the moment he met Por, he’s always had a crush on him, a very lowkey one. One where he needed to find out his schedule. Hang out with him. Make Por’s friends his friends. Have sleepovers with him. Meet his parents and hopefully live with him in a year or two.
Chill. Not serious at all.
“Okay, let’s say it’s not serious.” Wave says, “you can keep being like this with P’Por. Keep hanging out with him, like him… romantically? But still, just a friend.”
Teetee nods, thoughtful and already feeling sour; waiting for the catch.
“Until someone with a different intention comes along. Someone who wants to date P’Por straight away.”
Teetee frowns. Glares at Wave while the younger smirks mischievously, dealing the final blow,
“And P’Por wants to date them as well.”
Teetee launches at Wave, chocking him and filling up the cafeteria with Wave's laugh.
3.
Again, Teetee is good at nitpicking what to remember, what to keep in his memory long term. Por just happened to be one of those.
Attending JJ’s party six months ago wasn’t really his choice. He was forced. Society forced him.
“You made it!” JJ had greeted with a grin, clearly wasted.
Teetee, the big sunshine that he really is, couldn’t even pretend he was delighted to be there. Now, it’s not that he doesn’t appreciate JJ’s friendship. It’s just that he just had to make this party on a freaking Wednesday. Teetee likes parties as much as he likes passing his classes.
“And I’m leaving,” Teetee answered back, taking JJ’s drunk hand to hook the birthday gift he brought. “See ya,”
“NO!” JJ yelled, throwing himself at Teetee. “Have a drink at least,” Teetee started to pout, ready to come out with the big guns when his eyes got distracted, suddenly following instead the silhouette of a guy walking at the back of JJ’s apartment.
Said apartment is packed, even on a weekday, which probably meant most of them had already finished their exams. Not Teetee. He was a responsible student, and naturally, he decided he would only take a small little, tiny peak at the guy who just passed by, drunk JJ be damned.
Curiosity killed the cat. Lucky for Teetee, he’s not a cat.
The black-haired guy had starstruck him that night, who he later knew was named Por when he asked Kong, his one other friend at the party. It was uncomfortable to interrupt his make out session with his boyfriend, but this was clearly more important.
“That one? Is Por.” Kong smiled, resembling JJ’s too much. “Why? You wanna fight him?”
“No, I—”
“Fight him! P’Por!”
Teetee skedaddled away, hopeful Por didn’t have enough time to look at him. Teetee should’ve known better. A drunk Kong is always dangerous.
He decided it was best to watch from afar. Grabbed a cup to pretend he was drinking and mingled with the crowd. Teetee was not presentable, as he hadn’t planned to stay more than ten minutes. Using his old pair of gray slippers, some baggy jeans and an oversized T-shirt that probably shouted wash me!, Teetee sat by the couch, eyes on target.
Por stood by his couple of friends. Unlike Teetee, he did look the part of someone who came to enjoy a party. With a white tight fitted half button shirt, he stood all perfectly. All ethereally. He was chatting, drinking and—
What had probably made Teetee remember him, was the smile. With his eyes turning into two crescent moons, Por smiled wholly—a set of perfect white teeth and gums showing. The music and chatter were too loud to listen to his laugh, a missed opportunity. Maybe he should have followed through with the fighting excuse. Maybe he would’ve talked himself out if it and then made himself acquaintances, but no, he had to run away. Damn you, genius Kong.
“JJ,” Teetee creeped up behind him, eyes still on target. If Por were to leave before Teetee had introduced himself, he would probably be hating himself for the rest of the week. “I need some cologne. You got some in your room?”
“Teetee!” JJ greeted, again, high-pitched voice. “You made it!”
Teetee tsked.
“He got some,” Net, his partner, who knew of Teetee enough, pointed where JJ’s bedroom is. “Use the dark round glass one, ‘s mine.”
Teetee beelined to said room, looking back at Por from across the living room like a kid would watch the microwave, counting down the seconds ‘till it was time for popcorn. With a few sprays of perfume just about everywhere in his body, Teetee all but ran back out to find out his popcorn had been stolen.
Who could be the culprit? Who would claim to have caused Teetee such unbearable sorrow?
“Excuse me,” Por interrupted the soap opera occurring in Teetee’s head, like a ray of light in the midst of a cloudy day, coming with a message, “you’re blocking the door.”
The culprit had been no one but his idiocy, as Por was now standing right beside him, pocking and staring at his shoulder, waiting for Teetee to move aside so he can enter the bathroom.
“Ah, sure,” Teetee answered, and stood right where he landed until Por came out again.
When Teetee first told this story to North, the latter had guessed he had the face of a lunatic. It was the only explanation that could tell why Por would end up staring right back at him for what Teetee described, as an eternity.
“I’m Teetee,” he said, finally, smiling. “And you?”
4.
It’s really not that serious… until it is.
Maybe it’s serious enough for him to want to keep Por all to himself, to keep him inside a jar for only him to look at and protect him from everyone else.
Por’s doing an assignment next to him, as usual, in silence, if having some lo-fi music in the background counts as silence. It does for Tee—every time he doesn’t hear his or Por’s voice, the whole world goes quiet. He’s normally good with the quiet, he’s good with anything that involves Por, as if that wasn’t clear enough.
Everyone else is busy doing something else. Teetee doesn’t really care. He sent a message to the group chat just to make sure no one would be interrupting them. Him.
His friends’ words have maybe creeped up inside him, overthinking his every move, his every word now that he’s with Por. He does treat Por differently, but isn’t that a given? How could someone meet Por, and treat him like just anyone else? It’s scientifically impossible. Por has needs, and Teetee has learnt how to comply to them all. It’s normal, not serious at all.
Por likes to drink a liter of water in the morning and turns cranky whenever he’s running late, and he forget to bring some water with him. So Teetee makes sure to bring an extra one for him in case he needs it. Teetee knows.
“Pip,” Tee calls, head resting on his hand, looking straight at Por instead of his own assignment.
Por hums but doesn’t turn. Teetee keeps quiet, continues the watch.
Por doesn’t like to watch trailers of movies he’s interested in; likes to keep his knowledge of the films as little as possible. Which is why Teetee is always talking over them, coming up with celebrity gossips he knows Por hasn’t heard. He earns a few shhh by other people, and eventually a soft slap to the wrist by Por, who smiles while doing so. Por knows what he’s doing, and Teetee knows too.
“Piip,” he calls, again, this time with a whinier tone. Por laughs, finishing up a sentence to finally look up.
“What, Tee?”
Teetee smiles cheekily and shakes his head.
“Nothing.”
One would normally roll his eyes. Kong would hit him. Thomas would deadpan him. Auau and Patji would judge him, and Wave would get annoyed. But Por… Por is different. Por smiles—he smiles, and laughs. Doesn’t look all that annoyed of having his concentration broken.
He reaches out to Teetee’s head, pats him for a moment as one would do with a dog, and goes back to his writing; his hand falling and resting close to Teetee’s leg on the long bench where they’re sitting close together. Teetee’s eyes follow the arm down to the hand. His hands are pale, long, and slender. Por always make sure to keep his nails clean, and they look particularly good when he’s holding a microphone in those times Teetee begs to go karaoke.
His mind gets a hold of his muscles, moves out of impulse, his own fingers caressing Por’s absentmindedly. He rubs the tips of his fingers, takes the hand, and inspects it closely. His palm looks dry and rough, probably from the hot weather.
When he looks up to ask, softly, “can I put on some cream on your hand?” Por had already been looking at him intensely; mouth slightly agape. Teetee sins; doesn’t pay attention to what Por’s eyes are trying to convey in favor of staring at his lips. Por mouth closes eventually, nodding his head.
It’s not that serious. He’s done it before; it wouldn’t be his first or last rodeo.
Teetee applies on Por’s palm some of the Korean cream Kong brought him a few months ago, one he keeps for special occasions only as it has a sweet vanilla scent that drives him crazy. He doesn’t share it much, not even if they whine for it.
But Por is not them. Por is not anyone else. He’s Por.
With both hands, he massages the inside of Por’s palm, makes slow circles on the muscles, and applies pressure on each finger, making sure the hand has turned smooth by the time he’s done. With his attention still on Por’s hand, he asks, “give me the other one.”
Por’s right hand is sweaty, and Teetee laughs, but doesn’t comment on it. He starts the same ministration, enjoys how the silence between them is as comfortable as ever. It’s 5pm, the sun’s hiding behind the buildings and there’s not a single thing he’d rather be doing now.
“P’Por, you should be a hand model.”
“And you a hand masseur,” Por jokes back, barely in a whisper. Teetee chuckles.
“Your hands are very pretty.” He comments. There’s no answer back. “Like a rich boy’s.”
“Ai’Tee,” Por complains, finally, producing a giggle in Teetee’s throat.
When he looks up, he falls for it again. Doesn’t really reach Por’s eyes just yet, all attention on his lips instead. They’re a bit chapped, red, bouncy; and Por bites on the lower lip at the attention.
Teetee whines, as if his own lip had been bit instead.
“Don’t,” he scowls, reaching again for his backpack, this time for some Vaseline. He uncaps the tiny container, and blocks Por’s hand when he’s reaching for it. “Let me.”
“I can do it on my own,” Por nags, which would work on any other setting, but not when it means Teetee won’t be able to care for him.
The younger of two pouts until Por has to give in. Teetee scooches closer until there’s not much space in the bench between them. He applies the Vaseline with his thumb, the rest of his hand holding onto Por’s chin to keep it leveled. When he’s done rubbing the Vaseline on the upper lip, he goes for the remaining one.
Teetee’s entirely focus stay on that lip, on the sensation of his fingertip against it. With his attention in place, and his mind running loose, he wonders how it would be like to feel those lips. Wonders how soft it would feel to bite it, and if it would turn redder with some bullying; tongue abusing it from inside out.
Something in his demeanor must have changed in that moment. Maybe the force in his hand, or the expression in his face; but for some reason, Por reaches for Teetee’s hand, the one that’s still holding onto Por’s chin and lip. When Teetee finally breaks away from the lips, he can see what he’s been missing.
With pleading eyes and rosy cheeks on those pale cheekbones, Por moans, “Tee,” in a way that has Teetee breathless.
Teetee doesn’t know when it was that his face got this close to Por’s, close enough to feel Por’s breath on him. He looks up and down, alternating between Por’s pleading eyes and lips, that he moves forward.
Their lips connect with a soft pressure, Teetee’s lips reaching straight away for Por’s lower lip. He kisses the Vaseline he just put on him, sucks on it and kisses again. Por’s lips are softer than he imagined, and they taste of mint.
They’re not in sync at first. Por kisses when Teetee’s sucking, Teetee breaks away and reaches forward again when Por’s in the middle of breathing in. He can feel he’s timid. Teetee’s lips find Por’s teeth, he kisses where he can reach, trying to answer questions that haven’t been formed just yet. He tries to convey a reassurance that will have Por craving for more, hopefully. After a few minutes, Por breaks away, coy, breathing heavily.
Teetee, on the other hand, has not been lifted from the spell. He wants to continue the conversation they were having, wants to express everything he can with their lips tasting each other. He still stares at Por’s lips, craving for more. His mind is still acting on its own accord, so he rubs on Por’s lower lip as he says,
“Did you know, P’Por?”
He doesn’t wait for an answer,
“Our friends think I have a crush on you.”
“Do you?” Por asks, Teetee smirks at how the older’s lips move under his control, his thumb still caressing them.
“Who wouldn’t?” He chuckles, swallowing, suddenly feeling a dry throat.
“That’s not an answer.” Por answers back, putting more force in the hand that’s holding Teetee’s arm. “Do you?”
Teetee looks up at Por’s pleading eyes, which have changed under the sunset orange light. He’s no longer pleading for a kiss, not like before, he’s pleading for an answer.
Teetee needs a few seconds to finally think this through.
It is that serious.
He claims to know everything about Por. He knows when he’s uncomfortable, ready to go back to his condo. He knows when Por doesn’t find a joke funny, knows when he’s upset and wants to retort in a conversation; heated up. He also knows when he’s happy. When he’s not really smiling yet, but his hands are tapping a tune on his leg, like an unconscious habit. When he’s concentrated in what he’s listening, squeezing Teetee’s hand. He knows when Por’s the happiest, and it might be conceited of him to say it out loud, but it’s when they’re together.
It’s when they’re with their friends, chatting, playing; and Por has the need to look or make a space and sit down next to Teetee. It’s when they’re physically apart too, when Auau takes Por away and Por still looks back, as if trying to make sure Teetee is still there, reassuring himself that the younger’s going nowhere. Teetee can see it. He can see how Por turns back to him to see if he finds the joke funny too, if he’s enjoying the moment as much as he is. If their happiness is shared and not divided.
He can see it then, too. He can understand what Por wants from him, sure that no one else will ever get to comprehend Por like he does.
Teetee nods, a subtle smile forming in his lips when Por sighs in relief.
When they connect their lips again, this time they’re on the same page. When Teetee kisses, Por kisses back. He sucks, and Por opens his mouth, giving more space, offering his tongue. Teetee takes it gladly; sucks and reaches for it with his own.
At some point, Teetee’s hands have found their place in Por’s neck and jaw. He keeps the older in place, reaches for his nape and drags a moan out of him as they suck on each other’s mouths.
What felt like an eternity was probably just a few minutes until Por’s asking for air once again, and as they break away; Por reaches for a hug, hiding his face on Teetee’s neck. This makes Teetee smile.
“Pip, are you blushing?”
“Shut up.” Por mumbles, squeezing him.
“You didn’t say it, though.” Teetee speaks again after they’ve hugged for a minute.
Por breaks away, embarrassed, fixing his bangs.
“Say what?” Por asks, refusing to look at him in the eyes.
“Does Pip have a crush on Teetee too?”
Por looks elsewhere, fixes his things on the table, fans himself with his hand. Teetee keeps quiet, a mischievous smile speaking whole paragraphs as he waits.
Teetee knows the answer, but he needs Por to say it out loud too. When Por has looked at everywhere but him, sure that no one’s looking at them; and with his things tucked inside his backpack, he moves his face forward, close to Teetee’s.
“No,” he says, showing off his tongue, and standing up to run away.
“Piiiiiip,” Teetee yells, running after him, cackling on his way.