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The sky is different in Thailand. Yes, logically Rome knows all skies are technically the same, but this one is distinctly different. The starlight shines brighter in Thailand, he’s so sure of it. He can feel it now, soaking into his skin and lighting up his very being, until he’s positive he must be glowing with it.
“I thought I’d find you out here.”
Ah. Or maybe, the reason Rome feels like he’s glowing as just arrived.
He twists to face Mok, who’s standing there with a blanket in his crossed arms. He’s frowning, but the entire look is undone by the soft, small smile he’s sporting. It’s Rome’s favourite smile—it’s the one reserved for him and him alone. He shifts over on the swing and pats the wood next to him, inviting Mok to join him.
Mok wraps half the blanket around Rome’s shoulders and then scooches in next to him on the swing, wrapping the other half of the blanket firmly around his own shoulders.
“May I ask why you’re stargazing tonight?”
“May I ask why you’re watching me so closely you knew that I woke up and came down here?” Rome counters, turning his head so he can face Mok directly.
Mok’s face is right there and not for the first time, Rome is seized by an overwhelming urge to kiss him. He wonders what it would feel like. Electric, he thinks, but maybe soft too, a kind of buzzing under his skin set to Mok’s shared frequency. Rome thinks, if he did try to kiss Mok, that Mok would kiss him back—at least at first.
He’s imagined it more than is probably good for him: the way Mok’s mouth would open under his, the little gasp he’d give as their tongues met, the way he’d clutch Rome tightly, pull him closer, push his fingers into Rome’s hair. But no matter what scenario Rome conjures up, they always end the same way: Mok pushes him away, the same way he’s always done, keeping the line in the sand between them deep and straight, never to be crossed.
“I like to keep an eye on things,” Mok says, and the stars are just bright enough for Rome to see the blush that rises in his cheeks.
“And you needed to keep an eye on me from this close up?” Rome’s voice is soft. Maybe if he speaks quietly, barely audible over the sound of the crashing waves, he won’t scare Mok away. Maybe Mok will stay.
Mok nods. They stare at each other for a moment, maybe two, and then Mok glances at his watch. He breaks out into a grin so wide, Rome’s blinded by it for a second. “It’s officially your birthday. Happy birthday, Khun Krit.”
Twenty-two.
There was always a tiny part of Rome that didn’t think he’d make it this far, what with his family being in the business they are. That, and the crushing loneliness that comes with that life.
His birthday weekend is always the thing he looks forward to most, not least of all because it means getting to see Mok, even if it’s just for a few days. Mok, who will always stay by Kian’s side, who will never admit he sees Rome the same way Rome sees him.
“What do you want for your birthday, Khun? I think you’re supposed to make a wish.”
God, Rome wanted so much. Too much.
“Anything I want?”
Mok nods, his eyes wide and earnest behind his glasses, and Rome crumbles a bit.
“And if what I want is for you to leave my brother’s side and be—work with me instead?”
A small furrow appears in Mok’s brow and the corners of his mouth turn down. Rome swallows the wave of disappointment that rises in him and pastes on what he hopes is his charming smile.
“Just kidding, of course,” he says, nudging Mok with his elbow. “Kian needs all the help he can get.”
That earns a small, genuine laugh from Mok, and Rome bottles it up to replay later.
“My wish… Okay, I’ve got one. For the rest of the time we're here, I want you to call me Rome. Not Khun, not Khun Krit—Rome. Just Rome.”
He can see the war waging inside Mok at the idea of doing something so inappropriate.
Please. Please, Mok. Give me something, Rome begs internally.
“Alright,” Mok says, that soft smile back on his face. “Happy birthday… Rome.”
His name from Mok’s lips sent shivers down Rome’s spine. It’s no kiss, and it’s no promise to leave Kian and stay by his side instead, but it’s something. A start. And Rome will cherish it for as long as he has it.