Archive of Our Own ^beta

baby, not a day goes by

that I'm not into you

7:45 P.M. – Bangkok, Thailand   
 
The breeze outside was thick and humid—the kind of heat that clung to the skin like an unwelcome embrace, leaving behind a sticky, uncomfortable feeling. Even though the sun had long dipped below the horizon and night had settled in, the heat remained, heavy and inescapable. The streets of Bangkok buzzed with life; the sharp honking of cars cut through the warm air, blending with the incoherent chatter of pedestrians weaving their way through neon-lit sidewalks. Inside a sleek black sedan stuck in traffic, the soft hum of the AC did little to fight off the oppressive warmth seeping through the windows. 
 
The low hum of the car engine blended with the faint static of the radio. A smooth, honeyed voice from the radio host floated through the speakers, speaking in a rhythmic, almost poetic tone.  
 
“Ah, summer—the season of love,” the RJ mused, his tone lilting with romance. “A season where hearts intertwine, where lovers carve their own destiny beneath starlit skies. They say fate may guide you, but love? Love, my dear listeners, is always a choice. ”
 
A loud scoff interrupted the tender atmosphere.  
 
“This is all stupid!” came the grumbling voice from the backseat, the irritation clear. “I am not getting loved, but instead, barbequed tonight.”  
 
The secretary, hands firm on the steering wheel, snorted in amusement. “Just because he’s rumored to be cold doesn’t mean he’s a psychopath, sir.” His voice held a teasing lilt, but his eyes remained focused on the congested road ahead, where red brake lights painted streaks across the windshield. The heat outside was relentless, the kind that could melt a popsicle in mere seconds.
 
“Watch your mouth, Jamie,” came the immediate retort, sharp yet weary. Duang, arms crossed over his chest, fixed his best friend with a glare through the rearview mirror. “Whose side are you on? Or do you want to go there, in my place? I’d gladly welcome that.”  
 
Jamie hummed thoughtfully before breaking into a sing-song response. “I would love to try, sir. But sadly, he's not my type.”  
 
Duang groaned, tilting his head back against the leather seat in exasperation.  
 
The signal turned green. Without missing a beat, Jamie smoothly maneuvered the car, taking a sharp left before accelerating towards the next crossroad. The city blurred past in a dance of lights—billboards flashing vibrant advertisements, groups of friends spilling out of convenience stores with instant ramen and flavoured milk in hand, the occasional street performer strumming a guitar beneath the glow of a lamppost.  
 
Jamie flicked on the right indicator and made another turn. A few meters ahead, their destination loomed into view—a luxurious restaurant that screamed wealth and exclusivity. 
 
The grandeur of the place was undeniable—floor-to-ceiling glass panels framed the lavish entrance, reflecting the twinkling city lights like stars caught in crystal. Above the doorway, the restaurant’s name glowed in elegant golden calligraphy, its shimmer exuding an air of exclusivity. This was the kind of establishment that catered to billionaires and celebrities, where even the subtly perfumed air felt like it came with a price tag. 
 
Duang exhaled a long-suffering sigh as he took in the lavishness of the place. The weight of obligation sat heavy on his shoulders. “I’m really going to regret this.”  
 
Jamie grinned, eyes dancing with amusement as Duang reached for his seatbelt. “Don’t worry, sir. If he murders you, I’ll be sure to give a very moving eulogy.”  
 
A pause.  
 
Then—  
 
“Jamie.”  
 
The voice was calm however, Duang's glare was icy, cutting through the humor like a blade.  
 
Jamie barely stifled a laugh, waving a hand dismissively. “Sorry, sorry. You're worrying over nothing, buddy. From what I saw on the posters and magazine covers, the guy looks like he couldn't even hurt a fly.”  
 
Duang groaned again, this time letting his forehead fall dramatically against the headrest.  
 
"Why me out of all people, though?!" he huffed, cheeks puffing out in childish frustration, arms folding tighter against his chest.  
 
Jamie only chuckled, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel as Duang reluctantly pushed open the car door to step into his fate.  
 
Flashback – A Few Hours Ago
 
The grand hall of the opulent estate was bathed in the glow of an extravagant chandelier, its crystal ornaments casting scattered reflections against the high, pristine walls. The air was thick with tension, the kind that coiled in the chest and made breathing feel like a conscious effort.
 
“You are going to marry him, and that’s final! No more arguments on this.”
 
Duang's father’s voice boomed through the estate, resonating off the marble floors and expensive furniture, leaving no room for further discussion. The finality in his tone was as unyielding as the empire he built—a voice that commanded boardrooms and business deals with unwavering authority.
 
Duang gritted his teeth, his fingers curling into fists at his sides. “But Pho! Mae! Why must it be him?!” he tried to argue, desperation laced in his voice. “You know the rumors about him, right?”
 
“You are not getting any younger, sweetheart. And neither are we,” Duang's mother interjected, her voice carrying the gentle warmth of a mother, but also with the well-practiced weight of persuasion that seemed to run in the blood of mothers. “I’d love to have a bubbly little grandson or a sweet granddaughter running around the house before I move on to the next world. Can’t you grant this poor old lady’s wish?”
 
There it was—the dreaded emotional blackmail.
 
Duang groaned internally, rubbing his temples. He looked down as if the floor beneath could offer him divine intervention. This wasn’t the first time his parents had tried to meddle in his love life, but this was the first time they’d pulled the marriage card.
 
Marriage.
 
To Qin, of all people.
 
He had nothing against the concept of marriage itself. If anything, he liked the idea. At the ripe age of 29, he had it all—the wealth, the looks, the athletic body that made heads turn, a sharp mind fit for running the Chi Conglomerate, and enough admirers to make anyone envious. He was a damn good catch, and he knew it. But this? An arranged marriage to someone with a terrifying reputation?

He'd rather die than accept this.
 
His father’s sharp voice cut through his thoughts.
 
“Well then, is there anyone you'd recommend? Maybe a secret lover? A little crush, perhaps?”
 
Duang opened his mouth—only to close it again. Like a gaping fish.
 
Did he?
 
He ran through a mental checklist. 
 
A recent crush? No. 
 
A secret lover? Definitely not. 
 
Someone he could fake a relationship with to escape this?
 
His eyes flickered toward a mental image of Jamie for a brief second. That annoying huge smile popped into his brain. 
 
Yeah, Absolutely not.
 
Jamie was his best friend since high school days, and while the guy would probably go along with a crazy scheme just for the fun of it, Duang knew his parents would see through their act in an instant. They knew Jamie too well—he was basically family at this point.
 
And just like that, his silence spoke louder than words.
 
His father leaned back in his chair, a triumphant smirk barely hidden behind the rim of his whiskey glass. “See? No one, right? That’s exactly why we set this up.”
 
His mother, sensing victory, pressed forward with gentle persistence. “And what’s wrong with Qin? You shouldn’t judge a book by its cover, Duang. That's a bad thing.”
 
Duang scoffed, throwing his hands up. “Have you guys actually read the rumours about them?! He skinned alive his past potential suitors! SKINNED ALIVE! And you still want me to meet him?!”
 
“You know how the media works. It's called media manipulation, honey.” His mother shook her head with a knowing sigh. “You shouldn’t believe everything you hear. His mother—my dear old friend, Shen Mia—personally asked if our Duang could be her son’s suitor. And from what I’ve heard… Qin  seems to have taken a liking to you too.”
 
Duang's lips parted slightly, his eyes widening in horror.
 
Taken a liking? Taken a liking to me?! IS THAT GUY FUCKING SERIOUS?!
 
His brows furrowed in confusion and horror. Since when? How? He’d never even met the guy in person. 

Is he a potential obsessive stalker?! What the hell?!

Before he could wage a war with this guy in his mind, his mother's sweet sliced through, demanding him to listen.
 
“And from what I’ve seen and known,” his mother continued, her voice softer now, persuasive in its tone, coaxing, “Qin ’s a good kid. I really like him. All I’m asking is for you to go on a few dates with him, spend some time together. If you still feel like it won’t work out, we’ll figure something else out.”
 
Duang exhaled through his nose, the tension in his shoulders refusing to ease. “But Mae! Why?!”
 
His mother’s gaze sharpened all at once, her warmth suddenly undercut by a warning edge. “Duang. I don't like to repeat myself twice. Now, get ready and be on your best behavior, Duang. One more fussy complaint, and you’re not setting foot back in this house.”

And just like that, she turned on her heels, walking out of the living area to her room. Meanwhile Duang's father continued reading his morning newspaper.

And standing on the centre of it all, Duang looked like the world suddenly fell on his shoulder. His eyes twitched. His jaw clenched. Balling his fists, he stomped towards the stairs and straight into his room to get ready.

Because his mother was not kidding.

Meet him and go on a few dates and call it off. That was his plan. That was it.

Nothing could go wrong, right? I mean, what was the worst that could happen? It was a silly meetup afterall. Not a marriage.

With that resolve, he stepped inside his room.
 
Flashback Ends
 
And that was how he ended up here.
 
Standing stiffly in front of รัก (Rak) Cuisine, a high-end restaurant under the Charat Cuisine Group, one of the most prestigious multinational dining empires in the world.
 
Duang inhaled deeply, adjusting the cuffs of his blazer as he prepared himself for whatever fate awaited him inside.
 
Just as he was about to take another step, a loud, teasing voice rang through the night from inside the car.
 
“Enjoy the date, buddy. ”
 
Duang let out a sharp exhale, closing his eyes for a brief second before dragging a hand down his face. “Jamie…” he muttered in exasperation, but his best friend only snickered, unfazed by Duang’s suffering.
 
Without sparing Jamie another glance, Duang straightened his posture and walked toward the entrance. He had survived board meetings, stockholder negotiations, and cutthroat business deals—surely, he could survive one dinner with a strange person or perhaps his stalker.
 
Or so he told himself.
 
The moment he neared the entrance, he spotted a man already waiting by the glass door. 
 
Tall. Not as tall as him but he was still tall. Imposing. As if sculpted by the hands of the gods themselves. The kind of devastatingly and prettily handsome that made passersby stop mid-step, heads turning as if he were a rare art piece on display at a museum. Sharp jawline, striking eyes, bangs that fell over his eyes, and the effortless elegance in the way he stood—unshaken, unmoved by the attention that surrounded him.
 
But despite the perfect image, something in his expression carried a quiet intensity, an alertness that suggested he had been expecting Duang’s arrival. 
 
Duang barely had time to gather himself before the man stepped forward with a refined grace and bowed slightly with his folded in front of him.
 
“Hello, Khun Duang.” His voice was deep, smooth, and professional. “I’m Marvis Lee, personal butler of the Charat family. Young master has been expecting you.”
 
Duang blinked. He knew the Charat’s were wealthy, but having a personal butler escort him into dinner? That was next-level rich.
 
Marvis straightened himself and turned slightly, gesturing toward the entrance. “This way, please.”
 
With little choice left, Duang followed, anticipating what might happen to him behind those doors. 

The moment he was dreading was finally here. The person he disliked with his heart was waiting for him.
 
Qin was waiting behind those glass doors. 

And Duang felt like a malfunctioning robot. His palms were sweaty. His blazer suddenly felt suffocating. And his heart playing a game of drumline inside his ribcage. Gulping softly, he stepped inside. 
 
Inside the En Suite:
 
The moment Duang stepped inside, Qin was already sitting by the table with a look that felt like it was reserved for lovers, not strangers meeting for the first time. The moment his eyes landed on Duang, it's like his eyes melted at the sight of him. An almost wistful small smile tugged at his lips. His back slightly went rigid, shoulders drawing up just a fraction as if bracing himself. But the most telling part—the part Duang almost missed—was the way his thighs pressed tightly together under the table as if he was bracing himself like Duang did.

Then, as Duang approached, Qin quickly stood up, giving an awkward, almost-too-formal bow before gesturing toward the seat across from him. The entire motion was stiff, as if he had spent the past hour rehearsing it in his head but was now unsure how to execute it properly.

“Thank–thank you for meeting to agree me.” The moment he said those he immediately ducked his head away, embarrassed by his own stuttering and fumbling at his own words. 

Meanwhile, Duang crashed. He blinked and gaped like a bowl fish.

All this did not compute at all. Duang's brain almost flatlined at this behaviour. He was flabbergasted by the person in front of him.
 
This was beyond his expectations. Something he couldn't believe would happen. 
 
Duang thought he would be met with a chilling glare, a sinister smile, devil’s horn visible on his head with a knife in his hand ready to pounce on his prey. He thought there'd be hot oil boiling somewhere and he'd be fried in that and served fresh to his subordinates.
 
Instead, the man before him was meekly—albeit shyly—trying not to make things awkward. There was a certain softness to the way he moved, an almost careful hesitance, as if he was afraid of doing something wrong. 
 
Duang was still terrified—because hello, this was Qin we were talking about—but now? Now, on top of fear, there was something else happening.

Yeah, Duang was simping hard. Very hard. He was sure he was gawking. Maybe even salivating internally.
 
Still in a daze, he dumbly followed Qin's suit and took his seat across Qin. His gaze involuntarily traced Qin's features, and damn, the man looked like an angel sent from above.
 
Those siren-like eyes, the perfect mole beside his right eye, the identical, symmetrical moles on his cheeks, the curve of his lips—Duang visibly gulped—his beautiful naturally pink lips. And that delicate, almost ethereal elegance in the way he held himself, as if he belonged to some untouchable realm of beauty.

On the other hand, Qin, who couldn't quite understand why he was getting stared like Qin had arrived from Pluto, slid the menu toward Duang with slight expectancy. His voice was low, rich, and almost soft, almost cautious, as he let himself be relaxed on the chair.
 
“What would you like to eat?”
 
Duang, still too busy being captivated, feeling his sense tingle by that low cool soft baritone alone, being enraptured by the drop dead prettily handsome man seated in front of him, answered on autopilot.
 
“You.”
 
Silence.

Qin blinked, his brain seemingly short-circuiting. He coughed, quickly pulling up a tissue and ducking his head away from the unabashedness. His ears turned red first, then his cheeks, the blush spreading across his skin like a wildfire. He looked exactly like a flustered teenage protagonist in a rom-com, and it was, quite possibly, the most adorable thing Duang had ever witnessed.
 
And then it hit him like a whiplash.
 
What the hell did I just say?!
 
Duang’s soul nearly left his body.
 
He immediately scrambled to fix it. “I–I mean, you can order for me! Us!”
 
Qin bit back a smile as he watched Duang getting flustered, trying to find an escape route, from his peripheral vision.
 
He's still so cute

He could feel his shoulder sag in relief at the familiarity. He gently grabbed the menu from the table placed on the white satin clothing over the table. He pretended to flip the pages of the all too familiar menu while he tried to soak in the presence of the person in front of him as much as he could.

Anyone could literally feel the fondness in his eyes every time his gaze landed on Duang.
 
Duang, meanwhile, was contemplating whether it was possible to die from a secondhand embarrassment.

He wanted to vanish into thin air already. Or pack his bags to Hawaii and never set foot back in Thailand. 

Surely this moment would haunt Duang in his daydreams as well. And this supposedly arranged dinner was surely going to be a disaster.
 
After a few more moments of reading the menu while secretly watching Duang, Qin finally placed the menu back on the table. He raised his arms and then clapped his hands twice, the crisp sound echoing through the private suite.
 
Like clockwork, the waiter entered, bowing respectfully as he approached.
 
And just like that, Duang witnessed a transformation that nearly made him choke on his own breath.
 
The shy, almost flustered man from moments ago? Poof, gone.
 
In his place sat Qin , the very rumored ice-cold heir of the Charat Cuisine Group, his expression shifting into something eerily unreadable. His face settled into a perfectly sculpted mask of indifference—shoulders squared, gaze sharp, and an air of quiet dominance that sent an unmistakable chill through the room.
 
When he spoke, his tone was clipped and controlled, the kind of voice that demanded precision without needing to be raised.
 
“Take this menu and bring us your best cuisines, desserts, and starters this restaurant has to offer. No delays, and certainly no mishaps. My guest here should not be left unsatisfied. Do you understand?” Qin barked in a single breath. His tone was crystal clear. 

He wasn't requesting or asking or even telling him. He was commanding him like a hitler. 
 
The poor waiter visibly stiffened, his hands tightening around the notepad he held. His adam’s apple bobbed nervously before he quickly bowed.
 
“Y-Yes, of course! No worries! We’d never disappoint you!”
 
And just like that, he scurried off, moving so fast he might as well have been running for his life with his heart dropped into his stomach from anxiety. 
 
Duang, on the other hand, sat frozen, jaw practically on the floor. 
 
What. The. Hell.
 
What just happened? His brain screamed.
 
Was he right all along? Was the whole shy, blushing act a setup? A trap to lure him in before he became another one of Qin’s unfortunate victims ?
 
His brain ran through every worst-case scenario imaginable. Maybe he was about to be skinned alive. Maybe this was a psychological tactic—lull him into a false sense of security, then strike when he least expected it. Maybe this is how Duang was going to die by the hands of Qin. 
 
And before he could stop himself, his mouth worked faster than his brain.
 
“…Am I going to be skinned alive?”

Oh shit.

He should really tie his mouth with a lock because why in the world did he just blurt that out loud. Was he trying to dig his own grave?!
 
Duang braced himself for a cold retort, maybe even an icy glare—perhaps the last words he’d hear before his inevitable doom.
 
But instead—
 
Qin blinked. He simply blinked at him. A slow, lazy blink, one which bore an uncanny resemblance to a cat.
 
Then, with the most innocent expression Duang had ever seen, he tilted his head slightly, lips pursing into a soft pout. His eyes, moments ago sharp enough to pierce steel, now looked big and impossibly adorable, like a little pup who had just been scolded unfairly.
 
“What do you mean?” he asked softly, voice light, as if he hadn’t just terrorized a waiter into submission five seconds ago.
 
Duang’s brain short-circuited in the spot. He knew in this moment that—
 
He was done for.
 
If he wasn’t convinced before, he definitely was now—he had just walked straight into the most unpredictable situation of his life.
 
Because Qin? Qin was a walking contradiction. An anomaly placed in his life just to test his life in every way possible.
 
And Duang had no idea how to survive this dinner without completely losing his mind.
 
As if the atmosphere around him took a pity on him, the soft thud of ceramic plates landing on the table pulled him back to reality.
 
Almost immediately, the rich aroma of perfectly seasoned chicken filled the air, weaving through the space like an irresistible melody. The scent alone was enough to make his mouth water, his previous train of thought derailing completely.
 
His eyes sparkled—literally sparkled—like a kid who had just found out Christmas came early.
 
The table was now adorned with an exquisite selection of dishes, all centered around chicken, each plated so beautifully it could belong in a culinary magazine.
 
They say food has a way of getting into someone’s heart. And they were exactly right. Because—
 
Duang turned to Qin, utterly awestruck. The previous thoughts that had occupied his mind, vanished in an instant, erased as if they had never existed in the first place.
 
“How did you know I liked chicken?” His voice was laced with genuine surprise, a soft kind of wonder that replaced any lingering suspicion from before.
 
Qin, calmly leaned back against his chair, with a briefest of smiles on his lips—and the  faintest hint of satisfaction flickering behind his dark eyes.
 
“This place is famous for its chicken dishes and mouth-watering desserts,” he said smoothly. Then, after a small pause, he added, “And I’m glad to know you like chicken.”
 
And Duang was already reaching for his chopsticks.
 
The first bite? Heavenly.
 
Duang groaned in satisfaction, eyes fluttering shut as the flavors melted in his mouth.
 
“Oh my God—this is amazing.” He took another bite, and then another, barely pausing between praises. “Seriously, why is Charat Cuisine and especially Rak cuisine so good ?”
 
He continued eating enthusiastically, going on about how perfect the balance of spices was, how the texture of the chicken was just right, how no other restaurant quite matched the Charats when it came to fancy cuisines.
 
He was so absorbed in his food that he failed to notice the man sitting across from him.
 
Qin hadn’t touched his own plate yet.
 
Instead, he sat there, resting his chin on his palm, watching Duang with the kind of gaze that was rarely seen from someone like him.
 
Soft and fond. Deeply reverent and rich with indescribable emotions.
 
An unknowing smile had formed on his lips as he observed Duang happily devouring his meal, the edges of his expression losing their usual sharpness.
 
For someone who had built a reputation of being cold and aloof, Qin sure didn’t look the part right now.
 
And if Duang had bothered to look up, he might’ve noticed just how much warmth was hidden behind those usually icy eyes.
 
But for now, he remained oblivious.
 
Too focused on his chicken to realize that the man across from him was down bad for him—he was ready on his feet to give the world for him or give up the world for him if he asked. 
 
By the time Duang had filled his stomach, feeling pleasantly full and satisfied, Qin had already picked up a spoonful of fruit custard from the tiny bowl beside his plate, the delicate dessert glistening under the soft golden lighting of the suite.
 
“Have it,” Qin said smoothly, his voice steady, but there was an unspoken softness beneath it. “This restaurant is known for this particular dessert.”
 
Duang didn’t think twice. 
 
As if his body had a mind of its own, he leaned forward and took the spoon into his mouth, the cool, creamy texture of the custard melting on his tongue. It was sweet, rich, and absolutely delicious.
 
But that wasn’t the only thing happening at that moment.

Qin's intense gaze was locked onto Duang’s, unwavering as the latter kept chewing the fruit, hyper aware of the gaze on him. His ears were visibly turning red under that attention. 
 
For just a second—barely noticeable—Qin’s eyes flickered downward. 

Straight on Duang's lips. And it lingered there.
 
The way Duang’s lips had parted slightly to take the dessert. The way they had wrapped so delicately around the spoon before pulling back, leaving a faint sheen of custard behind. The way his mouth moved as he chewed—it was almost hypnotizing. 
 
Qin’s grip on the spoon tightened slightly, and as if snapping himself out of something, he quickly averted his gaze, meeting Duang's eyes once more.

Duang noticed everything but he pretended not to notice and kept his lips sealed on addressing the elephant hovering in this suite.
 
The air between them felt different—charged—but neither of them addressed it.
 
Instead, Qin cleared his throat, voice coming out a little too composed, as if trying to smooth over the sudden tension.
 
“Did you enjoy the night? Was the food up to your liking?”
 
Duang, still reeling from the sweetness of the dessert—and also the behaviour of his date slash stalker—he had just swallowed, raised a single eyebrow at the question.
 
“…Yeah, it was nice,” he admitted, voice slower, measured. He tilted his head slightly, as if weighing his words carefully. “But, I had something to ask you…”
 
Qin perked up slightly at the pause, his head tilting to the side—a small, almost unconscious movement. Like a curious little fox.
 
“Oh?” he hummed, his voice light but carrying an underlying intrigue. “And that is…?”
 
Duang hesitated.
 
He probably shouldn’t ask this. This man could very well be his demise, and yet, he needed to know.
 
Taking a small breath, he fidgeted slightly before finally spitting it out.
 
“…Is it true that you chased off your previous suitors?”
 
The words hung in the air between them, weighty and unshakable.
 
Duang’s heart pounded in dread and demise. He had just signed his own death warrant, hadn’t he?
 
But he needed to know.
 
Even if it meant Qin might actually kill him right here and now. Duang even mentally prepared a speech in his mind for his parents and his best friend if this was the last night on this planet.
 
For a moment, silence stretched between them.
 
And then—A loud, unrestrained laugh erupted from Qin .
 
It wasn’t a smirk. Not a chuckle. Not even the polite, socially acceptable kind of laughter one might expect from someone of his status.
 
No, this was full-bodied, head-tilted-back, completely unfiltered laughter .
 
Duang blinked. His jaw dropped once again.

He stared at the other confused. Meanwhile, Qin, unbothered, continued to laugh. As if Duang had just told the funniest joke in existence. Eventually, after what felt like an eternity, Qin took a deep breath, his laughter slowly dying down as he wiped the corner of his eye.
 
“I’m sorry,” he finally said, still catching his breath. “I didn’t mean to laugh. It’s just… you were so adorable, I couldn’t help myself.”
 
Duang’s brain hit a pause for a good ten seconds.
 
Adorable?! Me? Is this guy okay?
 
Before he could even process that outrageous statement, Qin leaned back slightly, his sharp, fox-like eyes gleaming with something unreadable.
 
“And to answer your question…” he began, his voice dipping into something more deliberate, more calculated.

He paused to let the words simmer. Then, with a completely nonchalant face, he continued,
 
“Yes. Just like the newspapers and magazines claimed, ‘I skinned them alive.’ ” He even quoted them with his fingers for emphasis.
 
Duang’s stomach dropped to his kidneys. His fingers curled slightly against the armrest.
 
But before his fight-or-flight instincts could fully kick in, Qin let out a small sigh—one that almost sounded fond —before breaking into a slow, beautiful smile.
 
“But don’t worry,” he added smoothly, his voice laced with amusement. He leaned forward, placing his chin on his palm with his elbow propped up on the table. “I’m not going to do the same to you. If that’s what you’re worrying about.”
 
Duang swallowed hardly at those words.

That is exactly what I’m worrying about.
 
“In fact,” Qin continued, his gaze locking onto Duang's with a quiet intensity, “I want to pursue you. To court you, Duang.”
 
Duang’s heart stuttered. His breath hitched. His brain screamed at him to say something, do something, react in any way, but all he could do was stare, without blinking, with only one question echoing and screaming inside his mind.
 
what.
 
WHAT.
 
WHAT.
 
So many questions came into his mind like flashes of lightning. He wanted to ask why. He wanted to ask what he even meant by that. He wanted to interrogate him like a detective in a crime movie and cross off every why and what and how floating inside his head.
 
But at the same time he couldn't help but feel absolutely terrified of the man sitting across from him because of the rumours about him and also because of his behaviour.
 
So, in the end, all he did was nod. The nod was small and stiff from every angle. It was neither agreeing nor disagreeing. 
 
And he kept himself quiet after that. 
 
Time passed, and eventually, the dinner had to come to an end. By the time they stepped outside, the night air was crisp, the city lights casting a soft glow over the grand entrance of the restaurant, the glass reflecting the light like gold and diamonds. 
 
Jamie was already there, leaning casually against the sleek black car, arms crossed, watching them with detached curiosity, particularly the butler.
 
Next to Qin and Duang stood the butler, Marvis Lee stood poised, as he and Qin silently escorted Duang toward the waiting vehicle.
 
Qin walked alongside them, his presence still lingering even as they neared the car.
 
Duang reached for the car door handle, ready to escape this whirlwind of an evening. His mind was still a tangled mess—half of it screaming at him to run while you can and the other half still trying to process the fact that Qin, the supposed cold-blooded heir of Charat Group, had just asked to court him.
 
But before his fingers could grasp the handle—
 
A gentle tug at the bottom of his blazer coat stopped him in his tracks.
 
Duang froze. His fingers stalled right above the handle. The tug on his blazer was hesitant like it fought with its choices before arriving at this conclusion.

And slowly, it was followed by a soft and warm weight against his back. Qin had rested his forehead against him.
 
What—
 
“There will be a next...right?”
 
Qin’s voice was barely above a whisper. Duang, for the first time during this entire date, was taken aback at how vulnerable it sounded. It was if he was pleading instead of asking.
 
Tonight had already thrown Duang through so many loops, but this—this moment, this softness—was something else entirely.
 
The Qin he had met inside the restaurant had been coy, playful, teasing, and confident—someone who made his own rules, who knew exactly what to say and how to say it.

In comparison to that, this moment was a complete contrast. It was vulnerable, laden with insecurity at the edges.
 
And something about that tugged at Duang's heart in a way he didn’t quite understand.
 
Again, like he mentioned before, his body had a mind of his own because before he could respond, he was already nodding.

And that was enough of a green signal to the guy who had just pleaded.
 
From behind, Duang swore he heard the faintest of whispers, a barely-there “yes” breathed out so softly he almost thought he imagined it.

And just like that—the warmth disappeared.
 
Duang turned around, his gaze flickering toward Qin, who now stood a step back, his expression unreadable.
 
He hesitated. Then, gathering himself, Duang gave a slight bow.
 
Qin returned the gesture, though his fingers twitched at his side, like he was holding himself back from reaching out again.
 
Then, with a final glance, Duang stepped into the car.
 
As the door shut and the vehicle began to pull away, his eyes flickered to the rearview mirror.
 
There, standing beneath the glow of the restaurant’s lights, was Qin who was watching him. He was waving goodbye at him with his lips still curled into the softest of smiles.
 
As Qin turned on his heel, ready to head back inside, a voice suddenly whispered into his ear.
 
“Is he the one, young master?”
 
Qin jumped at the suddenness of that question.
 
“WHAT THE HELL!” he yelped, whipping around to see his butler and best friend, Marvis Lee standing there, his face as impassive as ever, though his eyes glimmered with amusement.
 
“You almost gave me a heart attack!” Qin grumbled, clutching his chest dramatically before composing himself.
 
Marvis raised an eyebrow, unfazed. “You didn’t answer my question.”
 
Qin’s lips parted, as if to dodge first, but then—
 
A slow, knowing smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.
 
His gaze flickered to the road where Duang’s car had disappeared, a dreamy, almost wistful look settling in his eyes.
 
And then, softly—almost as if he was speaking more to himself than anyone else—
 
“Yeah…”
 
His fingers curled slightly, as if holding onto the feeling of that moment.
 
“He’s the one.”
 
And as he turned back towards the restaurant, his heart thudding a little too fast in his chest—
 
One single thought echoed in his mind.
 
At last we meet again, du.
 
───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────
 

20 years ago

It was a bright summer day. The sun filtered through the cafeteria windows, casting warm splitting golden rays over the bustling dining hall of one of the most prestigious private schools in the country.
 
In the farthest corner, away from the noise and chatter, a small boy sat alone.
 
Round spectacles perched on his nose, hair slightly unkempt and quite long, his tiny hands clutched a spoon as he quietly munched on his food. His gaze flitted across the room, watching groups of kids laughing, talking, and sharing their meals.
 
Unlike them, he had no one to sit with.
 
No one to talk to.
 
No one to share his food with.
 
He was new. A transfer student from China in the middle of the semester. It wasn’t just his unfamiliarity with the school that made things hard—he still didn't know or understand Thai given he was still in the beginning stage of the learning. And on top of that, his responses were short and curt, and his overall demeanor was cold and distant.
 
He had already accepted that today, like every other day, would be the same. That nobody would bother talking to a person who only knew how to stare which unironically comes off a glare. 
 
That was until a shadow loomed over his table.
 
He looked up, startled, meeting the gaze of a boy with chubby cheeks, brown hair and bright, sparkling eyes.
 
“Hey, is this seat taken?” the boy asked in Thai, pointing at the empty chair across from him.
 
The spectacled boy blinked. He didn't understand anything he said but he understood the gesture very well. This boy was asking for a seat. That was new. He didn't expect anyone to come to him willingly. He darted his gaze around the hall doubting whether this was a prank. But he didn't find anything suspicious. 
 
After a brief pause and finally giving up, he shook his head.
 
Without waiting for another word, the chubby-cheeked boy plopped down with a satisfied grin and dug into his food.
 
For a while, they ate in silence. Or at least, the spectacled boy did pretend to not care about the presence of the boy in front of him. Meanwhile, the other boy, however, kept glancing at the spectacled boy's plate.
 
Specifically—The chicken.
 
His round eyes sparkled with an unmistakable longing. He blinked, licking his lips in want. 
 
“Can I have that?” he suddenly blurted out, pointing at the juicy piece of chicken with his chopsticks. “I love chicken so much…”
 
The spectacled boy froze. He still didn't understand why this boy was talking like he knew him all too well. And the reason why he didn't stay away from him unlike others.
 
But when he looked up and met those wide, hopeful, beautiful eyes—

His heart melted and looking down at his plate, he sighed. With that, he pushed the plate forward for the other to take what he liked.
 
The chubby-cheeked boy’s face lit up instantly at the offer. 
 
“YAYYYYYY!” he squealed, his entire being radiating pure joy as he grabbed the chicken and happily munched on it, resembling a tiny, hungry hamster.
 
The spectacled boy just stared at how the other boy simply ate it without a care in the world. 
 
What a strange kid.
 
Moments later, the chubby-cheeked boy swallowed and spoke again. “Can I be your friend? You seem nice.”
 
The spectacled boy tilted his head slightly like a cute little fox, squinting his eyes at the other, as if trying to read his lips and mind.
 
He didn’t fully understand. Why did all of this happen. But before he could even attempt to piece together his thoughts, the boy continued.
 
“Actually, forget that—”
 
With a determined pout, he declared, “You are my friend now! From now on, we’ll eat together, play together, always be together, okay?”
 
The spectacled boy blinked in confusion.
 
What just happened? Someone is asking me to be their friend?
 
Realizing something, the chubby-cheeked boy suddenly stuck out his hand. “Oh! I forgot to tell you my name!” he said with a bright grin. “I’m Duang! We’re friends now, okay?”
 
The spectacled boy didn’t move. Didn’t speak. But something about the way Duang smiled—so warm, so open, so genuine—made something unfamiliar stir in his tiny chest.
 
Even if he didn’t understand a single word of what Duang had just said, somehow… his brain tattooed that name in his memory.
 
Duang. A name that he will never forget.
 
Slowly, he reached out, shaking the offered hand.
 
“…Qin.”
 
That was all he said.
 
But Duang’s smile widened, as if he had just won a prize.
 
“Qin!” he repeated enthusiastically. “Okay! From now on, you’re mine!”
 
Qin didn’t quite know what that meant.
 
But when Duang eagerly continued eating, happily kicking his legs under the table as if he had known him forever—
 
For the first time since transferring schools, Qin didn’t feel quite so alone, and a small smile crept onto his face.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

3 Months Before the Date Night

The dining hall of Charat Mansion was bathed in the soft morning light filtering through the towering windows. The chandelier above gleamed in the golden hue of the rising sun, making intricate patterns on the polished mahogany dining table. A faint melody of classical music played in the background, its soothing notes threading through the air, blending with the quiet clinking of silverware.

Seated at the expansive table were three figures—Qin, his father, Nathaphong Charat and his mother Shen Mia Charat. Marvis Lee, the butler, moved around the table, setting down steaming dishes of meticulously prepared breakfast. The hot steam of freshly brewed coffee and tea, blended with its delicate aroma, curled into the air. It also carried the rich scent of buttered toast, steamed stuffed buns, jian bing crepes, and delicate spices.

Qin's father sat at the head of the table, a newspaper spread open in his hands, its crisp pages rustling as he turned them. His expression remained curious, eyes taking in the stock market trends and political affairs, entirely absorbed. Across from him, sat Qin's mother and Qin. Qin's mother was gracefully holding the teacup, taking in the aroma of the ginger tea. Qin peacefully picked up his chopsticks and then munched on the crepe. 

The television, mounted elegantly on the wall, played the morning news, its volume set just loud enough to be heard over the subdued ambiance. The polished voice of the news reporter echoed through the silence of the dining hall save for the occasional clink of cutleries and rustling of the paper.

“Breaking News! Rumor has it that the sole heir of Charat Cuisine Group has once again driven away another suitor. According to our sources—”

With a click of the remote, the screen went black, cutting off the report mid-sentence. 

A heavy silence followed.

Qin's mother, setting down the cup, exhaled in slow, measured breaths. Her fingers then moved to her temples, rubbing them in an attempt to ease the throbbing frustration threatening to bloom into a headache. Then, as if she couldn't hold it in any longer, she slammed her fist against the table. The silverware rattled from the force.

“How long are you planning to keep this up, Qin?” she snapped, her voice tight with frustration. “And how many more ‘Duang’s’ are you going to go through before you find the right one?”  

She took a deep breath, trying to stay composed, but the tension in her jaw gave her away. She was tired of her son’s antics.  

At first, she thought he was just messing around. But then it became clear he wasn’t. She knew how stubborn he could be, but that didn’t mean he could do whatever he wanted. In the past year alone, he had tracked down 20 different Duangs all over Thailand. He even dragged their whole family into it—just for the chance of finding his Duang. It would’ve helped if they knew anything about him besides just his name.

Across from her, Qin ate without a care, his chopsticks moving with effortless grace as he picked up a steamed bun. His expression didn’t change—completely unbothered, as if the news hadn’t just dragged his name through the mud, yet again. He chewed slowly, deliberately, acting as if he couldn’t hear the storm brewing right in front of him—his mother, her patience running thin.

Then, without even looking up, he spoke. His tone was as smooth as ever, undeterred and laced with ‘I don't give a what’ attitude. 

“Until I find the Duang that I’m looking for, mama.”

Qin's mother’s face twisted in frustration at her son’s response, her grip tightening around the porcelain teacup in front of her. Her voice rose an octave, trembling with barely restrained rage.

“Do you have any idea what people say behind your back?! You're the reason I have to take medication for high blood pressure!”

She clenched her teeth, exhaling sharply through her nose. Her breaths were unsteady, her chest heaved with the effort of holding herself together taking everything she had. Her fingers drummed against the table, a nervous tick she only displayed when she was utterly infuriated.

Qin finally set down his chopsticks with a sharp clack, his own patience thinning. His usually relaxed demeanor hardened, his jaw tightening as he met his mother’s furious gaze head-on.

“As for people’s opinions, I couldn’t care less. Let them bark. That’s all they ever do anyway.” His voice, usually smooth and nonchalant, carried a sharp edge, a rare flare of emotion bubbling to the surface.

“And to answer your next question, if you and Baba hadn’t moved back to New York back then, I would’ve been married to the love of my life by NOW!” His hands slammed against the table as he leaned forward, eyes burning with the same fire as his mother’s. “So yes, I’m still salty about it.” Instead of just saying it, he enunciated each syllable carrying the years worth of pent-up bitterness.

The elegant breakfast which started off peacefully, now turned into a battlefield of words. Qin's mother’s mouth opened and closed, her face twitching between indignation and disbelief. She spluttered, pointing a shaking finger at her son.

“I—You!—”

Frustrated beyond words, she whipped her head toward her husband, seeking reinforcement. “HONEY!”

Qin's father, who had been thoroughly engrossed in his newspaper until now, flinched at the sharp call of his name. The rustling pages stilled before he quickly folded them and set them aside, his years of experience as a husband kicking in. Noticing the tension, he quickly grabbed his wife’s hands in his, his thumbs stroking soothing circles over her knuckles.

“Darling, just let it go.” His voice was warm, coated with practiced affection. “He is still a kid, you know?”

It was a feeble attempt at placation—one he had used countless times over the years—but this time, instead of soothing the brewing storm, it only added fuel to the fire. Qin's mother snapped at her husband.

“ALL OF THIS IS YOUR FAULT!”

The words echoed through the dining hall, reverberating off the grand walls. She was now pointing the accusatory finger at her husband.

“THIS IS ALL BECAUSE YOU SPOILED HIM! THAT’S WHY THIS ALMOST-30-YEAR-OLD YOUNG MAN TURNED OUT LIKE THIS!” 

Qin's father instinctively leaned back, caught between fear and amusement, though he wisely chose not to voice the latter. Instead, he sighed, rubbing his temples with his other hand as if he already knew where this was going.

Qin's mother, still fuming, turned back to Qin with her icy glare. The accusatory finger back on her son now.

“And you, young man!”

Qin barely reacted, lifting his coffee cup with perfect composure. The contrast between his mother’s rage and his unbothered attitude only increased her boiling rage.

“Do you have any idea how embarrassed I feel during our high-end official meets?!” Her voice dripped with exasperation, her eyes narrowing. “Mrs. Thepnakorn always tries to poke me regarding your matters.”

She gritted her teeth at the memory of her latest gathering—a luxurious afternoon tea with some of the most influential women in the business world, where whispers about her son’s latest scandal had filled the air like an insufferable perfume.

Reminiscing about it, unconsciously, the grip on her husband’s hand tightened—so much so that Qin's father winced, but he wisely chose not to complain. 

Qin just leaned back into his chair, exuding the very essence of relaxed arrogance. He took a leisurely sip of his morning brew before setting it down with an exaggerated sigh of satisfaction. His mother’s glare could have scorched through the igloos, but he remained delightfully unfazed.

Then, with a slow smirk, he commented.

“Well, maybe you and Mrs. Thepnakorn should stop competing over everything and pointing out each other’s faults. Why not just get along like her son, Pae, and your son… which is me?”

His voice dripped with insufferable sass, a mischievous glint dancing in his eyes as he clasped his hands together for emphasis.

His mother’s expression darkened. Her nostrils flared, her jaw clenched, and in a split second, it looked as if she was about to lunge across the table to personally end her son’s entire existence.

“WHY YOU LITTLE—”

Before she could finish, a firm hand shot up to cover her mouth.

Qin's father, fully aware of the disaster about to unfold, had moved with the reflexes of a man who had spent years memorizing the manual on his wife’s outbursts. He held her in place, using every ounce of his strength to prevent a potential murder from taking place right at their dining table.

His grip was tight, but Qin's mother was still writhing, muffled protests escaping from behind his palm.

Meanwhile, their son simply rolled his eyes with zero remorse. Qin's father let out a long, suffering sigh before throwing a sharp look at his son.

“Qin.”

It was a warning.

Qin huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. His playful attitude dimmed, his lips pressing into a pout as he turned towards his father, brows furrowed in frustration.

“But Baba! I want him, okay?!”

His voice, which had moments ago been dripping with sass, now carried a distinct desperation. His usual composure wavered, replaced by something more vulnerable—something raw.

“Other than the time we spent together and his name, I don’t know anything else! But those memories with him are still so clear in my mind.” His voice grew softer as he looked down at his plate, his fingers tightening around the napkin in his lap. “I’m not doing this for fun…” 

He inhaled sharply, the weight of his emotions pressing down on him.

“I’ve never asked you for anything. But this—this is the one wish I want to come true.”

Qin's mother, despite still being restrained by her husband, her expression softened—just a fraction. Qin's father, on the other hand, watched his son carefully before arching a skeptical brow.

“But son, what if he's already married? Or worse… what if he’s no longer with us? The world is a big place, you know.”

The words were spoken gently, cautiously—as if preparing his son for the worst.

Qin’s head snapped up so fast it was a wonder he didn’t get whiplash.

“NO! THAT CA—”

Before he could finish, a crisp black file was placed beside his plate with precise elegance. The interruption was swift, seamless, almost like a well-practised move of a mediator. 

Marvis Lee, the butler, stood beside him, his posture impeccable, his movements graceful. With a small bow, he cleared his throat.

“This is the file of Duang from Cheewin Conglomerate that you requested, young master.”

Another bow. Then, without another word, Marvis turned on his heel and strode towards the kitchen, his presence as fleeting as ever.

For a moment, there was silence.

Qin quickly grabbed a napkin, wiping his hands before reaching out. After so many failures, he could only hope—just a little—for something different this time. His fingers trembled slightly as he flipped the cover open. He hoped, but he didn’t expect.  

Then, his eyes landed on the photograph inside.  

His breath caught. His pupils dilated.

Then, as if the entire world had suddenly tilted in his favor, a grin broke across his face—a smile so big and triumphant that it could have lit up the entire mansion.

He shot up from his seat, waving the file in the air with uncontained excitement.

“FOUND HIM!” His voice rang through the room, shaking with exhilaration. “BABA! MAMA! I FINALLY FOUND HIM!”

Qin's father, who had continued to keep her wife restrained, suddenly froze. Qin's mother, who had been furiously wiggling in an attempt to break free, also stopped mid-struggle.

For a brief, charged moment, the entire room went completely silent.

Then, as if the same thought struck them at once, both parents scurried toward their son’s seat, their previous argument forgotten in favor of their newfound curiosity.

Qin's father nearly tripped over his own feet in his haste, while Qin's mother practically shoved her husband aside to get a better look at the file. They hovered over Qin’s shoulder, eyes locked onto the glossy photo clipped inside.

Qin's mother’s brows furrowed as she stared, her lips pursing in concentration. Something about the young man in the picture seemed… familiar.

Meanwhile, Qin's father turned his gaze toward his son, his expression holding curiosity.

“Are you sure he is the one?”

The moment those words left his mouth, Qin turned to his father, eyes brimming with an emotion so intense it was almost blinding. His fingers tightened around the edges of the file as if it were his most prized possession.

“Yes, I know it!”

His voice trembled with the weight of his emotions and the certainty of it all. His breath hitched as he ran a thumb over the image, almost as if he were afraid it would vanish if he blinked. “Those eyes…” he whispered, as if speaking a sacred truth. “Those beautiful eyes that have been haunting my dreams every night…”

A lovesick sigh escaped his lips.

“These are none other than my Duang’s.”

His voice carried the weight of a man who had spent years longing for something he wasn’t sure he was able to reach. But now—now, the search was finally over.

Qin's mother, on the other hand, remained oblivious to her son’s overjoyed reaction.

She was still staring at the picture, brows knitting together as she tapped a manicured finger against her lips. Where have I seen this boy before? She wondered. 

Qin's father, noticing his wife’s unusual silence, raised a brow. “Teerak, what’s wrong? You seem to be in a deep thought.”

Qin's mother didn’t respond immediately. Instead, she hummed in thought, tilting her head slightly. Then—suddenly—her eyes widened. She clapped her hands together once, a triumphant smile spreading across her face. Both father and son straightened at the same time, eyes flicking toward her with curiosity.

“Ah-ha! I remember now!”

Qin leaned forward, placing the file on the table. “What? What is it?”

Qin's mother chuckled, shaking her head, as if the revelation was the most natural thing in the world.

“He’s the son of my friend from those high-end parties. You know, the one I always talk about—Sophie.”

[A/N: Sophie is Duang's mother's name]

Qin's father’s jaw nearly dropped. Qin, on the other hand, blinked.

Qin's mother tapped the photo with her index finger, still smiling. “I forgot her son’s name was also Duang.”

The dining table stilled in silence bracing itself for the impact. The silence remained for a few seconds before—

“MAMAAAAAAA!”

Qin’s anguished scream shook the very foundation of the mansion.

Qin's father winced, covering one ear while gripping the back of his son’s collar with the other hand—just in case. Qin's mother, on the other hand, looked completely unbothered, casually examining her nails as if her son wasn’t on the verge of combusting.

“I’VE BEEN SEARCHING FOR HIM DAY AND NIGHT, WORRYING ABOUT HIM EVERY SINGLE MOMENT, AND YOU DIDN’T THINK THIS WAS IMPORTANT TO TELL ME?!”

Qin was the one fuming now. His earlier joy had morphed into sheer frustration, his hands flailing as he tried to process the absolute betrayal he had just experienced by the hands of his mother.

Qin's father, already exhausted from holding back his wife, now found himself in the equally unfortunate position of restraining his son. His life was definitely not for the faint of heart. 

He let out a long-suffering sigh. “Like mother, like son,” he muttered under his breath.

Qin's mother, finally acknowledging the absolute chaos she had caused, sighed dramatically before waving a hand in dismissal. “Fine, fine. I’m sorry.”

Qin squinted suspiciously. “…Really?”

Qin's mother smirked, leaning forward slightly. “I can put in a word about you to Sophie, as an apology.”

Qin immediately straightened, his previous anger dissipating in an instant.

“Hmm… Okay.” He crossed his arms, attempting to look dignified despite the fact that he had just been screeching a moment ago. “You better set a date for us, mama. I want to meet my Duang as soon as possible!”

He shot his mother one final glare before dramatically slumping back down in his seat, grumbling under his breath.

Qin's father shook his head. Qin's mother simply chuckled.

And somewhere in the mansion, Marvis Lee and the other workers let out a sigh, wondering how these rich elites—the so-called masters of this house—somehow managed to keep it together in public.

It was truly commendable that they didn't burst out like this in the public.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

One Week After that

The sun was high in the sky casting a blinding glow over the quiet alley as Qin found himself standing in front of a high-end book café. The place screamed sophistication—glass windows framed with sleek wooden panels, warm lighting spilling from within, and bookshelves neatly lining the walls. There was a soft hum of conversation drifting through the air, accompanied by the gentle clinking of ceramic cups and the occasional rustle of pages being turned.

Qin inhaled deeply. His palms were slightly clammy, and he rubbed them against the fabric of his jeans to steady himself. You’ve got this, he told himself, shaking off the nervous energy creeping up his spine.

With one final exhale and adjusting his spectacles, he reached for the door handle. The small bell above the entrance chimed softly as he stepped inside.

The scent of freshly brewed coffee and books greeted him instantly. He took a quick glance around, scanning the café until his gaze landed on the person he was here to meet.

Ah there they are.

The person was seated by the window, poised with an air of quiet confidence, their posture relaxed yet dignified. Upon meeting Qin’s eyes, the person offered a soft smile and gestured toward the empty chair across from them.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Qin. I’m Duang's mother. Have a seat.”

Qin nearly stumbled over his own feet in his eagerness.

“No, no!” He dismissed her words with an enthusiastic wave of his hand before bowing deeply in gratitude.

“The pleasure is all mine, Mrs. Nattasan. I’m truly thankful that you even agreed to meet me.” His voice was steady, but there was a flicker of sincerity in his eyes—one that Duang's mother didn’t miss.

She chuckled softly, her expression amused yet warm. “It’s nothing, kid. Your mother is a dear friend of mine.”

Just then, a waiter approached their table, carefully placing two steaming cups of coffee in front of them. The tantalizing aroma of roasted beans filled the air as the delicate foam atop each cup swirled gently.

Duang's mother reached for her cup, but instead of taking a sip, she tilted her head slightly and rested her fingers against the handle. Her gaze settled on the young man before her. It was sharp, calculated and filled with quiet scrutiny.

Then, with a shift in tone, she leaned forward slightly. “So, let’s get to the main topic.”

Qin immediately straightened in his seat. 

Duang's mother’s eyes held an unmistakable weight as she spoke, each word deliberate to test something. “Tell me, Qin. Why should I believe that you’re suited for my son?”

She let the question hang in the air for a moment before adding: “And more importantly… why are you so determined about him?”

The warmth from before had momentarily vanished, replaced by something far more serious. Qin swallowed, his fingers subtly tightening around his coffee cup.

This was it. The moment he had been waiting for.

And Qin had no intention of backing down.

“He is everything to me.”

His voice stayed firm—like an undeniable truth carved into stone. A soft smile graced his lips, and in his eyes, there was no uncertainty, no second-guessing. Just a quiet, unwavering devotion.

Duang's mother’s fingers lightly traced the rim of her coffee cup as she observed him. Then, in a tone that was gentle yet firm, a demand cloaked in warmth, she said:

“Explain.”

Qin exhaled slowly, gathering his thoughts. He rested his hands on the table, fingers tracing patterns against polished wood.

“Me and Duang…”

And then he began.

For the next one hour, Qin spoke—not just with words, but with every fiber of his being.

And through it all, Duang's mother listened.

She remained silent, her expression blank, but not once did she look away. She watched as Qin bared his soul, as he laid every raw emotion on the table before her, asking for nothing but a chance.

And then—finally—when he finished, silence settled between them like the closing of a book.

Duang's mother, still deep in thought, gazed at her coffee cup for a long moment. Her fingers gently tapped against the handle, her mind carefully weighing everything she had just heard.

Then, slowly, her lips curved into one of the most beautiful smiles Qin had ever seen.

“Well, you have my approval and encouragement, Qin.” Her voice was warm and gentle carrying the depth of the approval.

Qin barely registered the words before a rush of relief crashed into him like a tidal wave. A breath he didn’t even realize he had been holding slipped past his lips, his shoulders sagging ever so slightly as if a burden had been lifted.

He was just about to express his gratitude when Duang's mother raised a hand, stopping him mid-sentence.

Qin tensed.

Duang's mother’s expression remained kind, but her next words held a quiet firmness.

“I can arrange dates and outings for you. I can give you the opportunities to be around him. But I cannot force my son to marry you.” She held his gaze, making sure he understood. “It is up to you on how you catch his attention and his heart. If he still doesn’t like you, then there’s nothing more I can do.”

Qin didn’t even hesitate.

“It’s okay.”

His voice was filled with conviction.

“Whatever you are doing, that is enough for me. Thank you so much.”

Duang's mother studied him for a few moments, then leaned forward slightly.

“One last question, Qin.”

She placed her hands on the table, her fingers laced together.

“What if he doesn’t remember you?” Her eyes darkened a bit, the seriousness settling in—as if she was locking in her previous decision. “Or worse—”

“What if he doesn’t like you back? Then what?”

Qin’s expression softened, but his resolve did not waver.

“Even if he doesn’t remember our past—or can’t—I’ll make sure he never forgets the present.”

His hands curled into fists on his lap, but there was no desperation in his voice—only quiet determination.

“And if he doesn’t like me back, even after everything?”

He took a deep breath, then offered a sad yet accepting smile.

“Then I’ll accept my fate… and watch him from the sidelines.”

Duang's mother was taken aback. Her eyes widened in surprise.

She had expected persistence. She had expected arrogance, even stubbornness. But what she hadn’t expected was maturity—the willingness to accept love, but also to accept the possibility of heartbreak.

And that, more than anything, moved her the most.

A small, approving smile played on her lips.

“Hmm… Good luck, Qin.” She leaned back in her seat, taking a sip of her now-cold coffee. “I hope everything works in your favor.”

Qin stood up, bowing deeply with genuine gratitude.

“Thank you, Mrs. Nattasan. I’ll be taking my leave now.”

And with that, he turned on his heels and strode out of the café, his heart pounding with newfound resolve.

Outside the café, the cool evening air met him. The sky had started to blend into shades of purple and pink, casting the city in a soft, colorful glow. He let out a breath, running a hand through his curls as a small smile tugged at his lips.  

It was finally happening. He had a chance.

And Qin was not going to waste it.

Meanwhile…

Inside the café, Duang's mother watched his retreating figure with endeared amusement. A soft chuckle escaped her lips as she swirled her coffee absentmindedly.

“Young love, huh?” She murmured to herself, shaking her head fondly. Then, a playful glint flickered in her eyes as she leaned back in her seat.

“Must be nice. Well, let’s see what I can do to be a good wingman for these two.”

With that, she pulled out her phone, already typing to her friend that the meeting was a success.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Fast Forward to the date night

Qin was a mess.

Not outwardly—his outfit was impeccable, his hair was perfectly styled, and his coconut-scented cologne was subtly alluring as well—but internally? He was a wreck.

He paced back and forth in his en suite, chewing on his bottom lip, his fingers fidgeting with the cuffs of his tailored blazer. The sleek black suit fit him like a dream, the crisp white shirt underneath, along with a tiny black bow around his neck adding a touch of effortless elegance. But none of that mattered.

Because there was only thirty minutes left before his one-sided love arrived, and Qin still could not get his act together.

His heart was pounding, his palms slightly sweaty, and for the first time in his life, Qin felt like a complete amateur. 

Across the room, Marvis Lee—who had been watching this ridiculous display of his longtime best friend for far too long—was on the verge of losing his patience. He didn’t sign up for this when he took up the job.

With a dramatic sigh, he finally snapped, “Young master, he isn’t some Duke or Duchess from the historical era. He’s a human being like you and me.” He pinched his nose in annoyance, exasperation written all over his face.

Qin whipped his head around, eyes narrowing into a sharp glare.

“Marvis. You don’t understand it!” He dramatically threw his hands in the air. “I need to be perfect, okay?! Imagine embarrassing yourself in front of your longtime crush. I would like the ground to swallow me whole if that ever happens to me.”

Marvis didn’t even bother holding back his eye roll.

With a shake of his head, he stepped forward, placing both hands firmly on Qin’s shoulders.

“Look, Qin.” His voice softened, his usual teasing replaced by genuine reassurance. “As your best friend and your confidant, I’m telling you—you already look perfect. Watch him fall for you, like ice sliding down a hill. You’re gonna rock it.”

For a moment, Qin just stared at him, his lips parted as if trying to believe those words. Then, in the smallest voice Marvis had ever heard from him, Qin mumbled:

“What if he doesn’t like me?”

Marvis's expression softened. He squeezed Qin’s shoulders just a bit tighter in an effort to ground him.

“Then it’s his loss, Qin.”

Then, with one last encouraging pat, Marvis stepped back, glancing at the time before giving a knowing smirk.

“Now go ahead and take your seat. I’m off. I’m curious to see this guy in person—the one who’s captured the heart of the only heir of the Charat Group.”

He turned towards the door before throwing one last look over his shoulder with his signature smirk in place.

“It’s time.”

And with that, he walked out, leaving Qin standing there, heart racing, thoughts spinning, and one singular truth settling deep into his chest—

He was about to see Duang again.

And after a few minutes, he could hear the sound of Duang’s footsteps getting closer. Oh, well, then the arranged date sitcom finally kicked off, and the rest, as you guys know, is history.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Later, after the date, in the car

Duang sat in the backseat of the car, his head resting against the cool glass of the window, the city slowly going into sleep as they sped past. His mind was a tangled mess, replaying the evening’s events over and over. He wasn’t sure what to believe anymore. The Qin he had met tonight was nothing like the man the media had painted him to be. His fingers drummed against his thigh absentmindedly before he exhaled a long sigh, his breath fogging up the window slightly.

Shaking his head, Duang pulled out his phone, unlocking it with a quick flick of his thumb. If there was one thing he knew, it was that the internet never failed to provide answers—or at the very least, give him something to spiral over. He quickly typed in Qin’s name, and, like he expected, the same predictable results surfaced:

“Cold-blooded heir.” “Ruthless genius.” “Snarky and arrogant.” Blah, blah, blah. 

Duang scrolled past the redundant articles, unimpressed. But then, a particular thread caught his attention. A Reddit post, buried among the gossip sites and news articles, discussing the recent rumors about Qin’s arranged dating life. The title was ridiculous—something about how his dating history resembled a witch’s magical summoning ritual.

With a quirked brow, Duang clicked on it. The thread itself was filled with the usual nonsense—speculations, memes, people arguing over whether Qin was an actual threat to society or just a misunderstood rich guy. He would have exited out of it if not for one specific reply that made his breath hitch in his throat. His eyes widened as he read:

“The funniest part of all this dating stuff is that the poor guys he dated all had one thing in common—their name: Duang. It was like he was on a quest for Duang. LMAO.”

Duang stared at the words, his mind screeching to a halt. His name. Every single one of Qin’s past dates had shared his name. Was this some kind of sick joke? A coincidence? Or was Qin actually a witch and he was the next unfortunate victim in whatever bizarre ritual this was?

He swallowed hard, but inside a thought nagged, refusing to be ignored.

Qin’s eyes during dinner. The way he looked at him. That soft, lingering gaze. The warm, silent request before they parted ways. It wasn’t fake—Duang was sure of that much. But then, what did this mean? 

Then again, only one person had the key to his running thoughts. 

Frustrated, he ran a hand through his hair, messing up his perfectly styled locks. He needed to talk to someone about this before he drove himself insane.

Turning his head, he was ready to unleash all his thoughts onto Jamie. But as soon as his gaze landed on his best friend’s face, the words died in his throat.

Jamie wasn’t his usual laid-back self. No playful smirk, no teasing glint swimming inside in those eyes like it was before he entered that lavish building. Instead, his jaw was tense, his hands gripping the steering wheel a little too tightly.

He looked... mad.

Duang blinked. That was unusual. Jamie rarely ever got angry unless someone had truly pushed his limits.

The car had rolled to a stop in front of Qin's house.

“Jamie, is something wrong?” Duang asked, his concern deepening.

“Uh? Oh, it’s nothing.” Jamie's answer was too smooth, too quick, his gaze fixed firmly on the road as if avoiding Duang’s probing stare.

Duang wasn’t buying it. “Jamie.” He tried again. His voice was firmer this time.

A long, dramatic sigh left Jamie's lips before he finally caved in. “Ugh, fine. Listen, I think I’ve fallen for that tall guy who was with you all!” He huffed in frustration before dramatically hitting his forehead against the steering wheel.

Duang blinked, momentarily caught off guard. “What?”

“He is soooo my type!” Jamie continued, lifting his head with an exasperated groan. His hands flew into his hair as he tugged at the strands in pure desperation.

Duang let out a small laugh. “What is there to be angry about, then?!” he asked, now more amused than concerned.

Jamie whipped his head toward him, his eyes wild with frustration. “He’s so cute, it’s driving me crazy, okay?! He is just my type from my wildest fantasies!” His voice was filled with exaggerated despair as he dropped his forehead against the wheel again, tapping it repeatedly.

Duang shook his head, letting out a dramatic sigh of his own. “God… you are so pathetic.”

Jamie scoffed, straightening up and shooting Duang a sharp look. “Well, that makes two of us, my friend.” He crossed his arms over his chest, raising an eyebrow knowingly. “Don’t think I didn’t notice how you were dancing to that guy’s rhythm like a puppet. Nodding to every word he said, looking all dazed.”

Duang froze for half a second before quickly rolling his eyes, choosing to ignore the accusation. He pushed open the door and stepped out of the car without another word, but the heat creeping up his ears betrayed him.

Jamie smirked, victorious.

Stepping inside, Duang was immediately met with the familiar scent of home. His mother was lounging on a chair, a cooling face mask covering her face, exuding pure relaxation. His father sat nearby, completely engrossed in whatever sports match was playing on the television. It was a typical night at their household.

Too drained to engage in small talk, Duang simply gestured that he will be going to sleep before heading straight to his room. The moment he reached inside, he kicked off his shoes, grabbed his pajamas, and jumped into the shower, hoping the warm water would wash away his tangled thoughts.

But as he laid down on his bed, freshly showered and wrapped in a soft blanket, his mind betrayed him once more.

Qin.

That man had completely invaded his thoughts.

Duang stared up at the ceiling, an exasperated sigh leaving his lips. “Who exactly are you, Qin? What exactly is your motive?” he mumbled to himself.

His gaze flickered toward the small potted dandelions sitting neatly on his windowsill. A sticky note was still attached to the pot, the words on it staring right back at him:

Hope this makes you smile every time you see it. I hope all of your wishes come true, and may this tiny little thing grant them to you. - xoxo

It had been a birthday gift, one he never had the heart to throw away.

A small, unbidden smile tugged at his lips as he read the note once more. And just like that, he found himself drifting off to sleep, the last thought in his mind lingering on a certain enigmatic man with boba-like eyes and a smile that was both a mystery and a promise.

On the other side of the city, Qin sat outside on the balcony, his gaze fixed on the stars above. A gentle breeze brushed against his skin, carrying the faint scent of night jasmine from the garden below. 

A soft chuckle left his lips as he leaned back against the wall, arms wrapped hugging his knees. His mind was still replaying the night’s events, from the way Duang’s eyes widened in surprise to the way his lips curled ever so slightly when he was lost in thought.

A happy grin tugged at the corners of Qin’s mouth. 

“I missed you so much, Duang…” he whispered, his voice barely carried by the wind. His smile faltered for a moment as he dropped his gaze to his feet, a quiet vulnerability creeping in. “You don’t know how long I’ve waited to meet you…” His voice trailed off, as if the weight of the years had settled onto his shoulders all at once.

He exhaled slowly, his fingers tightening slightly around the armrest. “I hope… I can stay by your side for a long time.”

The sincerity in his voice lingered in the air, merging with the stillness of the night. And as he looked up at the sky once more, the stars seemed just a little bit closer—just a little bit brighter.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Two months later, after meeting Duang's mother and receiving her encouragement, Qin found himself inside a small florist’s shop tucked away in the heart of downtown. It wasn’t the kind of place anyone would expect a high-profile figure to be—quaint, quiet, and mostly visited by locals rather than luxury-seeking elites.  

But here he was, dressed in a black biker jacket, a plain white t-shirt peeking out from underneath, and faded black jeans. A pair of dark sunglasses and a mask covered his face—just a little extra precaution against unwanted attention.

Why was he here? Simple. He was picking out flowers.

Flowers for his Duang.

Ever since he’d gotten his hands on Duang’s profile, one particular detail had caught his eye—his birthday was just around the corner. And while Qin wasn’t exactly the type to fuss over birthdays, this was different. This was Duang’s birthday. And that made all the difference.

He could’ve easily gone to an upscale boutique, had a lavish bouquet crafted by the best florists, and sent it in the most elegant wrapping money could buy. But he didn’t.  

Because if even the slightest hint of his involvement reached Duang, there was a good chance the flowers would be tossed aside without a second thought. Given his reputation, he wouldn’t blame him. And the last thing he wanted was to ruin everything with one reckless move before they even met.  

So, anonymity was key.

That was why he had wandered into this small shop, where the scent of fresh blooms filled the air, and the only customers were the occasional elderly woman buying a bouquet for her grandchild or a lovestruck college student hoping to impress their date.

Qin moved from one display to another, fingers grazing over petals as he searched for the perfect arrangement—one that could wordlessly convey what he felt but couldn’t yet say.

The florist, a man around Qin’s age with keen eyes, watched him curiously. It wasn’t every day that a customer in full disguise roamed his shop with such serious deliberation.

Still, Qin remained oblivious to his amused gaze. He was too focused on his mission, determined to find the right flowers.

“Excuse me, do you need any help?”

The man voiced out, pulling Qin from his thoughts. He turned around to find the florist standing behind him, a foot shorter than him, with soft sand-brown hair that seemed to glow under the golden hue of the evening light. His skin was pale, his features delicate, yet his presence was anything but unassuming.

Qin’s gaze flickered downward, briefly scanning the name tag pinned neatly to the florist’s apron. Hia.

For a moment, he hesitated. But standing here, overwhelmed by the variety of blooms in front of him, he figured he might as well take the offer.

“Uhh… I’m looking for flowers.” His voice came out slightly unsure, as if realizing how ridiculous that sounded in a florist’s shop.

Hia blinked at him before a soft chuckle escaped his lips. “Haha, yeah, I kind of figured that much.” He tilted his head, amused but not mocking. “What I meant was—do you have something specific in mind? A certain type? A meaning you want to convey? I can help you pick the right ones.”

There was an effortless warmth to his words, something reassuring in the way he spoke, as if he had done this countless times before and knew exactly how to guide the most indecisive of customers.

Qin hesitated, his fingers lightly grazing the edge of a nearby potted plant as he mulled over his words. But after a moment, he let out a quiet sigh and finally spoke.

“It’s a birthday gift,” he admitted, his voice softer than before. “For someone… incredibly important to me. The love of my life.”

Hia hummed, tilting his head slightly. “Uh-huh. Anything else?” he prompted, his curiosity piqued.

A small, almost wistful smile played at the corner of Qin’s lips as he exhaled. And then, as if a waterfall cascading down, the words spilled out.

“He’s everything to me.” His voice carried a quiet reverence, his gaze distant as though lost in a memory. “His eyes… They're like the night sky, sparkling and endless, as if the entire night sky reside in those. And his smile—god, his smile—it’s so pure, so radiant, like the warmth of the sun on a cold morning. But his presence…” Qin’s voice softened further, the tone bordering on confession. “His presence is like the moon—calm, steady, always there even when you can’t see it. With him, I feel like sunshine and rain all at once, my emotions spilling over in ways I can’t control. I don’t even know how to put into words what he does to my heart…”

Hia blinked. Then, slowly, his lips curled into a knowing grin. His eyes crinkled into tiny crescents, amusement flickering in their depths.

“Sir, I hate to break it to you, but you’re completely, completely down bad for him,” he teased, unable to hold back his laughter.

Qin scoffed lightly, rubbing the back of his neck, as if only now realizing the depth of his own emotions. Then, clearing his throat, he asked, “So? Do you have any recommendations?”

A playful glint flashed in Hia’s eyes. “Oh, I’ve got just the thing for what you described.” He gave a quick nod before turning on his heel. “Give me a second—I’ll be right back.”

And with that, he rushed off toward the conservatory, leaving Qin standing there, heart still buzzing with the weight of his own words.

Hia returned moments later, carefully carrying a small potted plant before setting it down on the counter with a satisfied nod.

Qin’s gaze flickered to the plant, his brows furrowing in mild confusion. A cluster of delicate yellow flowers peeked out from the pot, their vibrant petals glowing softly beneath the shop’s fluorescent lights.

“…Dandelions?” Qin asked, tilting his head.

Hia nodded, crossing his arms over his chest. “Yup.”

Qin blinked. “Why dandelions?”

The florist let out a light chuckle, leaning forward slightly. “Look, most people would’ve recommended the usual stuff—roses, lilies, daisies, the whole cliché lineup. But since you described him so beautifully, it felt wrong to just throw you something ordinary.” His lips curled into a warm smile. “I want your gift to be just as meaningful as your feelings for him.”

Qin’s gaze softened behind his sunglasses at that.

Hia then looked down at the potted plant, gently running a finger over one of the tiny blossoms before speaking again.

“You know, dandelions are actually the only flower that represents all three celestial bodies—the sun, the moon, and the stars.” He pointed at the bright petals. “The yellow flower resembles the sun. When it turns into a puffball, it looks like the full moon. And when the seeds disperse into the air, they resemble the stars.”

Qin’s breath hitched slightly.

Hia continued, his voice carrying a lighthearted enthusiasm, “There’s also a belief that if you blow on a dandelion, its seeds will carry your thoughts and wishes to your loved ones. So, who knows? Maybe this little guy will help your feelings reach him.” He grinned, nudging the pot slightly forward.

Qin stared at the dandelions for a moment, something warm and unspoken blooming in his chest. It was perfect. More than anything else, this flower—this quiet, understated little thing—felt like him. 

Like Duang.

A soft smile formed beneath the mask he wore, hidden but very much there. He nodded, pulling out his wallet and placing the payment on the counter.

“Thank you,” he murmured, his voice quieter than before.

Hia waved him off playfully. “Don’t mention it. Hope he likes it.”

With the potted dandelions cradled carefully in his hands, Qin stepped out of the shop, the cool night air brushing against his skin.

After the 29th Birthday Bash of Duang at Cheewin Conglomerate

Inside the quiet solitude of his office cabin, Duang let out a slow breath, his shoulders finally slumping in exhaustion.  Force smiling throughout the event, shaking hands, talking with numerous people— it drained him out.

The door creaked open, and Jamie entered, pushing a trolley brimming with gifts. The sheer number of them was almost comical—stacked high, wrapped in vibrant papers, adorned with excessive ribbons, and paired with extravagant bouquets.

Jamie groaned, rolling his eyes. “These are from your admirers and fans alike.” His tone was flat, edged with mild irritation.

Duang barely spared the pile a glance before waving a dismissive hand. “Just leave them there.”

Jamie, equally unenthused, gave a tired nod. “Sure, I’ll head out first. Once again, happy birthday, bro!” His voice lightened at the last part, warm and casual.

Duang turned toward him with a small, genuine smile. “Take care on your way home. And thanks, Jamie.”

With that, the door clicked shut, leaving Duang alone with the mountain of well-wishes and affections.

For a long moment, he simply stood there, staring at the trolley. Having admirers was flattering—he wasn’t ungrateful—but the sheer extravagance of it all sometimes felt… overwhelming.

Eventually, he stepped closer, hands brushing over the different packages. Some were accompanied by heartfelt greeting cards, others paired with expensive-looking bouquets—roses, daisies, tulips, gerberas, each one meticulously arranged.

His gaze roamed over the collection until it landed on something that stood out—it was different from the grandeur he usually receives. It was modest and simple.

Unlike the rest, this gift wasn’t flashy. There were no elaborate bows, no over-the-top wrapping. Just a neatly packed box, with a single yellow sticky note was attached to the top, the handwriting precise and carefully penned.

His fingers traced over the words as he read them:

“Hope this makes you smile every time you see it. I hope all of your wishes come true, and may this tiny little thing grant them to you. - xoxo”

Duang had never been the type to take home gifts from his admirers. He appreciated the gestures, of course, but experience had taught him that most of these offerings weren’t rooted in sincerity. People were often after his looks, his money, or the status that came with being associated with him.

That was why, every year, he made sure the presents found better homes—donating them to NGOs, orphanages, and elder care centers where they would actually make a difference.

Now, yet, here he was, fingers lingering over this one particular package.

Something about it intrigued him. Maybe it was the simplicity, the lack of unnecessary grandeur, or maybe it was the sticky note with its handwritten message that had already stirred something in his chest.

With deliberate care, he tore away the wrapping, revealing a plain cardboard box with small holes punched into its sides. His brows furrowed slightly. What might this be? He thought with genuine curiosity.

Upon lifting the lid, he found a pot. Precisely, a small pot of dandelions—trimmed neatly, their bright yellow heads standing proudly as if glowing under the soft office lights.

Duang blinked, momentarily taken aback.

Who in the world gifts dandelions?

His fingers brushed lightly over the rim of the pot before his gaze landed back on the sticky note, still affixed to the box. The words were simple, unembellished. Yet, somehow, they held more weight than all the expensive bouquets and designer-wrapped gifts combined.

There was a quiet sincerity in them, a thoughtfulness that didn’t feel like the product of shallow admiration.

For the first time in the entire evening, Duang smiled—small, fleeting, but genuine.

And just like that, his decision was made.

“I’m taking this home. Whoever you are, thank you for making my day extra special. I’ll never forget it.”

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

20 years ago

It had been exactly a week since the chubby-cheeked boy had first approached the spectacled one. Qin, the spectacled boy, had since learned that the other—Duang—was actually his classmate. Duang had been away on vacation and had only joined classes the same day he had walked up to Qin with that bright, unwavering smile.

From that moment on, Duang stuck to him like glue. He followed Qin everywhere, chattering endlessly, even though Qin barely understood why he stuck to him like glue. But that never seemed to discourage Duang. He talked, laughed, and smiled as if they had known each other for years.

And, perhaps most importantly, Duang never failed to steal the chicken off Qin’s plate during lunch. Every single time, without fail, he would eye the piece, ask for it with a hopeful grin, and—without even realizing why—Qin would always end up giving it to him.

But today was different. Unlike every other day, Duang wasn’t his usual bubbly self. He wasn’t smiling, he wasn’t talking, and he wasn’t even writing down anything the teacher said.

Qin noticed immediately. He might have been only nine years old, but even he could tell that something was wrong. His usual chatterbox of a friend was eerily silent, his eyes downcast, his small hands fidgeting under the desk.

Confused and a little concerned, Qin tried to ask what was wrong but Duang didn’t answer. He didn’t even look up.

Then came lunch break, and like always, the other kids rushed toward the cafeteria in excitement. Qin followed, quietly carrying his food tray to their usual spot.

He sat down, waiting. Any moment now, Duang would come over, sit across from him, and, like clockwork, ask for his chicken.

But today, Duang didn’t come.

Only silence greeted him.

Qin waited. And waited. But Duang never came.

His small lips unconsciously formed a pout. Something felt… off.

Without wasting another second, he grabbed the piece of chicken in his tiny hands and bolted out of the cafeteria. If Duang wouldn’t come to him, then he would go to Duang.

First, he checked the playground. But Duang wasn’t there.

Next, he ran back toward their classroom. Empty.

He dashed toward the gymnasium, his little legs working as fast as they could, but once again, Duang was nowhere to be found.

Qin frowned. Where could he be?

Not ready to give up, he returned to the playground for one last look. He peeked behind the slide, under the swings, around the see-saws—but still, no sign of Duang.

Just as he was about to turn away in defeat, his eyes landed on the dome climber.

Qin hesitated for a moment before stepping closer. Bending down slightly, he peeked inside.

And there, curled up in the shadows, sat Duang. His small body was trembling, knees pulled close to his chest. His head hung low, and tiny droplets of tears slipped down his cheeks, soaking into the fabric of his uniform.

Qin’s eyes widened in shock.

Without a second thought, he scrambled inside the dome climber, his tiny knees pressing against the cool ground as he hurried closer to Duang.

He didn’t understand what was wrong. He didn’t know why Duang was crying. But seeing the usually bright and bubbly boy like this… it made his little heart ache in a way he had never felt before.

Carefully, he lowered himself to sit beside Duang, mimicking his posture—knees tucked in, arms wrapped around them.

Then, in a soft, uncertain voice, he asked, “Du… What's wrong? Why are you crying?”

But Duang didn’t respond. He just sniffled, his small shoulders trembling as more tears slipped down his cheeks.

Qin pouted. His brows furrowed in worry. He didn’t know what to say to make Duang feel better.

So instead, he simply reached out, his tiny fingers wrapping around Duang’s hand. He held it tightly, squeezing as if to say, I’m here.

His other hand still clutched the piece of chicken.

Duang’s voice trembled as he finally let out what had been weighing on his heart.

“The kids in our class… they say I’m too mean. That I always steal your food. They said you don’t want to be my friend… that I make you angry. That’s why you don’t talk to me.”

His voice grew even smaller. “Is that true?”

Qin blinked, trying to process Duang’s words.

But before he could respond, Duang misunderstood his silence. His eyes welled up again, and suddenly, he was sobbing louder, his little body shaking with each cry.

Panic surged through Qin. He didn’t know what to do—he wasn’t good with words yet, and explaining himself felt impossible.

Then, he remembered—the chicken.

Without hesitation, he thrust the piece of chicken right in front of Duang’s face, his small hand holding it out like it was the most precious thing in the world.

Duang hiccupped mid-cry, his red-rimmed eyes darting between Qin and the offered chicken.

“…What?” he asked, confused.

“My chicken is… for Du always!” Qin said, his voice louder than before, determined to make Duang understand. He didn’t know how to comfort, but he knew one thing—he didn’t want to see his Duang cry anymore.

Duang sniffled, tilting his head in confusion. “Du who?”

Qin’s brows furrowed, as if offended that Duang didn’t already know. With all the confidence in the world, he pointed straight at Duang and declared, “Du you! You Du, my friend!”

His tone was so proud, like he had just discovered the biggest secret in the world.

Duang’s heart swelled. He had been so scared, thinking he was annoying Qin, that he was pushing him away. But none of that was true. And suddenly, he realized—Qin didn’t have any friends from the beginning. That’s why he never said much.

The warmth spreading in Duang’s chest was impossible to ignore.

Without another word, he grabbed the chicken from Qin’s hand and took a big bite, grinning as he chewed.

Qin watched him, his own smile growing just as wide. Seeing Duang happy again made him happy, too.

“Du, let’s go… class?” Qin said, watching as Duang eagerly finished the last bite of the chicken. He hoped Duang would understand.

Duang looked up, cheeks still puffed from chewing, before breaking into a wide, joyful grin.

“Mhmmm. Yes, let’s go, Qin!”

Without hesitation, he grabbed Qin’s hand, their tiny fingers latching together as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

Hand in hand, they ran toward their classroom, their laughter trailing behind them, the weight of the earlier sadness completely washed away. Their smiles were the biggest they had ever been, shining as brightly as the afternoon sun.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Time Skip: 1 month after the date

3:00 P.M. | Bangkok, Thailand

The steady clacking of keyboard keys filled the spacious, modern office, interrupted only by the occasional sigh from the man seated at the large mahogany desk. Duang’s fingers moved swiftly across the laptop, typing out yet another email, his usually sharp features marred by the slight crease in his forehead.

Dressed in a clad formal suit, he looked every bit the composed and powerful CEO he was known to be. But currently, underneath the calm and collected exterior, frustration simmered.

The past month has been nothing short of a disaster. Some employees at his office had royally messed up a crucial deal, forcing the CEO to step in and clean up the mess. Countless hours had been spent reviewing documents, restructuring contracts, and worst of all—sending out apology emails to placate stakeholders.

It was infuriating, to say the least.

He had already given his employees a stern warning, making it crystal clear that a blunder like this should not be repeated again. He didn’t work himself to the bone just for others to jeopardize everything he had built.

A deep sigh left his lips as he ran a hand through his hair.

“Ugh, this is so exhausting.”

Being a CEO meant more than just a fancy title. The weight of expectations—from employees, board members, and competitors—was always pressing down on him. One wrong move, one miscalculation, and everything could crumble. That was why he worked tirelessly, ensuring the company’s continued success.

Just as he was about to compose another email, the office door creaked open after a soft knock.

Without lifting his gaze from the screen, he exhaled sharply.

“Jamie, how many times do I have to tell you that I don’t need a break until I’m done with this?”

He rubbed his temples, already bracing himself for his best friend’s persistence.

However the unexpected voice from the other end made him stop typing mid-way. His fingers stilled.

“Uhm…”

That… is not Jamie.

His brows knitted together as he looked up, only for his breath to hitch slightly in surprise.

Standing before him, clad in effortless casuals, was none other than Qin.

A plain white T-shirt peeked from underneath a faded beige sweater jacket, paired with neatly pressed white slacks. The soft, neutral tones of his outfit were a stark contrast to his features and rumours associated with him. And yet, despite his usually poised and polished demeanor, the man before Duang now seemed… hesitant.

Qin lifted a hand in an awkward wave, his lips twitching slightly as if unsure whether to smile or not.

Duang leaned back in his chair, one brow arching. “Qin, what are you doing here?” His tone was caught between curiosity and amusement.

Before Qin could answer, a familiar singsong voice chimed in from behind him.

“What kind of an absurd question is that?! Qin is here to meet you. ”

Duang shot Jamie a look as his best friend who grinned mischievously.

“When I was downstairs getting some files, I saw him entering the building. He said he wanted to meet you, so I brought him here.” Jamie’s eyes flickered between the two before he stepped back towards the door, wiggling his brows.

“I’ll leave you two alone now. And—” He caught himself mid-word, glancing at Qin before correcting, “You really need to take a break or else you will grow bald.”

With that, he shot Duang one last knowing look, bowed slightly, and swiftly exited the office, shutting the door behind him with a soft chuckle.

“...........”

An awkward silence settled between them, neither quite sure how to break it. They kept stealing awkward glances. The only sounds in the office were the faint hum of the air conditioning and the distant chatter of employees outside.

Duang then spoke first, breaking the tension.

“You said you wanted to meet me. Is there anything important?” His tone was skeptical, laced with a hint of curiosity.

I missed you, so I came to see you. That was what Qin wanted to say. That was the truth. But instead, he swallowed it down and opted for something else. Because how could he say that when Duang thought of him as a random stranger whom he met once. 

How he could he say that when the person in front of him didn't seem to remember him.

“I’m sorry for barging in so suddenly,” he said smoothly meeting Duang’s gaze, hands folded behind his back. “After our last date, I totally forgot to ask for your number. That was so stupid of me. I didn’t have your number, so I couldn’t even give you a heads-up.”

He had his number from the file. But it felt rude and borderline stalking to use it without asking for permission. 

Duang’s lips parted slightly, taken aback by the sheer casualness of it all. But before he could respond, Qin tilted his head, his expression, a teasing glint appearing in those irises.

“And also… did you forget that I said I wanted to court you, Duang? That’s exactly why I’m here.”

“To see you.”

As if someone had flipped a switch in Duang’s brain, memories of their last encounter came rushing back at full force.

Oh.

Oh.

A faint pink dusted his cheeks as he blinked at Qin, momentarily speechless.

The past month had been a whirlwind of work and exhaustion, leaving little room for anything else. The chaos at the company had buried every lingering thought about Qin beneath spreadsheets, meetings, countless emails and frustration.

But now that Qin was here—standing right in front of him, looking at him with those enchanting eyes—Duang suddenly recalled something embarrassing.

For the first few days after their arranged date, even though he hated to actually admit it, he had actually anticipated something from Qin’s end. Anything to show that Qin was really interested in whatever he said about courting and other things and not just doing it for fun.

And when nothing came, a tiny, almost imperceptible disappointment had crept in.

He wanted to reach out. To ask about what he meant by that but before gathering courage and do something about it but the thought quickly disappeared after the mishap the employees had created in the office. 

Then the curiosity got overpowered by the stress and frustration. And he lost the track of Qin's thoughts and his thoughts associating around Qin.

And now, Qin was here. Once again. Looking at him with the same eyes and conveying the message crystal clear that he hadn’t forgotten anything about what happened between them last time they met. 

That it wasn't a game for Qin. 

And as if he could sense the whirlwind of thoughts running through Duang’s mind, Qin spoke, his voice calm yet unwavering.

“The last month has been really crazy for me,” he admitted, his gaze steady on Duang’s. “One of our branch hotels was introducing a new batch of dishes, and I was the designated taster. I had to stay back, give detailed reviews, and make notes on what kind of presentation would satisfy the customers. It was exhausting, to say the least.”

Duang listened closely, nodding as he took in the explanation. It made sense—Qin was known for his perfectionism when it came to work. There were plenty of articles praising his skills, his quick thinking, and the smart decisions that had taken the company from national to international success. Even with his executive position, it was clear he wasn’t the type to just sit behind a desk and give orders. He preferred to be directly involved.

Qin exhaled softly before continuing, his tone shifting into something gentler.

“But finally, it’s done.” His lips curled into a small, almost relieved smile. “And as soon as I found out I was free, my first thought was to see you and spend time with you.”

There was no hesitation in Qin’s words, no unnecessary embellishments. Just quiet sincerity, as if it were the most natural thing in the world to seek him out the moment he had time.

Somehow, those words sent a strange flutter through Duang’s heart, a warm feeling surged into the depths of his heart, coating the corners of his heart with warmth. It wasn’t as though he lacked affection in his life—his parents adored him, and Jamie had always been by his side providing support. But this… this was different.

To be the sole focus of someone’s attention, to be the first thought in their mind the moment they had time, to feel like you are someone’s center of gravity—there was something inexplicably beautiful about that. It was a kind of devotion Duang wasn’t sure he had ever experienced before.

He still had his doubts, lingering suspicions about Qin’s true intentions, but right now, none of them seemed to matter. Not when Qin stood before him, sincerity practically radiating off of him in waves, unguarded and real.

Duang swallowed, forcing himself to push past the warmth curling in his chest. Focus, he reminded himself.

“Uhh… Thank you, Qin,” he said, voice softer than intended. “But as you can see, I’m swamped with work right now… I don’t think I can spend time right now. I’m so sorry…”

And he truly was. Guilt gnawed at him because, for once, he wanted to say yes. He wanted to see what spending time with Qin would feel like.

But duty called, and if he didn’t wrap up this work soon, it could impact the company’s growth. And no matter what, Duang wouldn’t allow that to happen. 

Qin simply shook his head, a soft smile playing on his lips.

“It’s okay, just looking at you is enough for me.”

The words left his mouth before he had the chance to think twice.

“Huh?”

Duang’s brain completely short-circuited. He blinked once, then twice, trying to process what he just heard. 

It was only when a deep flush spread across Qin’s cheeks that the realization hit him.

“I–I mean,” Qin stammered, visibly scrambling to fix his blunder, “I–I can just sit here until your work is done… and then we can spend time together.”

His ears burned as he looked away, pretending to fiddle with the hem of his sweater jacket.

Duang stared at him for a moment before letting out a breathy chuckle. This guy, seriously…

Shaking his head, he gestured toward the chair across from him. “Go ahead and make yourself comfortable. If you'd like anything to eat or drink, let me know. I'll get it for you.”

Qin nodded and wasted no time, carefully sliding the chair back before settling into it. The moment he did, his gaze naturally drifted to Duang again, watching as he refocused on his laptop, his fingers moving swiftly across the keyboard.

The office was silent except for the rhythmic tapping of keys, the buzz of the aircon, the fluttering of the curtains, and the distant hum of chattering outside the cabin. But somehow, it didn’t feel awkward. If anything, it felt… oddly comforting.

During their first meeting, he hadn’t gotten the chance to properly take in his long lost crush’s features—not when he had been drowning in embarrassment and awkwardness. But now, as he sat there in the quiet office, he seized the moment to study Duang’s face in detail.

Resting his chin on his palm, he mentally traced a finger over the familiar yet changed features.

The chubby cheeks are completely gone… There's a sharp jawline in the place of that.

His lips unconsciously formed a tiny ‘o’ shape, lost in thought.

His pointed nose is still the same as before…

A small, almost nostalgic smile curled his lips.

Then his eyes flickered upward, and a pout formed on his own face.

Oh… there are faint lines now. Wrinkles and creases on his forehead… Is he not taking care of himself properly 

His brows knitted together as he studied them, lips jutting out slightly in discontent.

And then—finally—his gaze landed on those beautiful, familiar eyes.

And Qin’s features softened instantly. That same fond look took over his face, his chest filling with something warm and indescribable. Without even realizing it, a wide, almost goofy smile stretched across his lips.

This still feels like a dream… but if it is, I hope I never wake up. Because now, I finally get to stay by your side.

On the other hand, Duang was struggling to complete the task at hand.

The reason? The man in front of him.

Qin.

He could see from the corner of his eye—Qin was staring at him openly. Unapologetically and not at all subtle. With wide, doe-like eyes.

Maybe he doesn’t even realize he’s staring so blatantly… Duang thought, shaking his head as he tried—really tried—to refocus on his work.

But it was proving to be impossible.

Qin wasn’t just staring—he was making all sorts of tiny, unconscious reactions. A little pout here, a tilt of the head there. Soft, thoughtful expressions that shifted in real-time as he studied Duang, completely unaware of how distracting he was being.

Then, just as Duang was about to will himself back into focus, it happened.

Qin smiled.

A full, radiant smile that reached his eyes, overflowing with warmth and tenderness.

Duang froze.

It felt like an arrow had struck him straight in the heart—as if cupid was waiting for this moment to strike him down with the heart arrow. His heartbeat thumped loudly in his ears, his fingers momentarily pausing over the keyboard.

It wasn't a lie that when he first met Qin, there was a hell lot of simping and fantasizing. But now, it was different from their first meet. Because now, mixed with the occasional simping, there was something else buzzing and burning beneath his skin. A new feeling that he couldn't decipher.

Still lost in his thoughts, Qin unconsciously murmured to himself, “My Du.”

Duang’s head snapped around so fast it was a miracle he didn’t get whiplash. His eyes were widened in pure disbelief and shock.

“What did you just say?”

Qin blinked, suddenly pulled from his daze. His head tilted slightly to the side, looking at Duang like a curious little fox. “Hm? Sorry, I zoned out for a while. Did you just say something?”

Duang studied him for a moment before shaking his head with a small smile. “I said, I’m done with work. I’ll just change into something casual, and then we can go out somewhere.” he shut his laptop screen close.

Qin’s eyes immediately lit up, nodding excitedly.

Duang glanced at him one last time, lips twitching as if holding back a laugh, before stepping into the adjoining room in his office.

It was his personal space—one he often used whenever work demanded late nights. Rather than risk driving home half-asleep, he would just crash here. It wasn’t anything fancy, but it was practical.

And right now, it gave him a moment to breathe because for some reason…

His heart was still racing.

Entering the room, Duang headed straight for his closet, his hands automatically reaching for a lime green cardigan, a plain white shirt, and light beige jeans. As he dressed, his mind kept circling back to the name that had slipped from Qin’s mouth.

Du.

Only one person had ever called him that. But that was nearly two decades ago.

It must be a coincidence. He was probably lost in thought about something else. There’s no way it’s him. That was just a childhood nickname… and people forget things over time, right?

Duang sighed, glancing at his reflection in the mirror. He spritzed on a bit of cologne and ran his fingers through his hair, attempting to style it.

But what if…?

His hands stilled for a second before he shook his head, pushing the thought aside. 

That couldn't be possible at all. In fact it’d be extremely ridiculous for such a coincidence to happen out of all.

With a final nod to himself, he straightened his cardigan and turned toward the door.

Meanwhile, Qin’s eyes wandered around the office, wide with curiosity. His gaze flickered from the abstract paintings on the walls to the tinted glass windows, then to the sleek mahogany desk with Duang’s nameplate.

Something on the desk caught his attention.

A pen stand.

No, not the stand itself—one particular pen inside it. A unicorn glitter pen.

Qin immediately picked it up, his expression shifting from curiosity to shock. He turned it over in his hands, inspecting it closely. His fingers traced the familiar patterns on its surface, and then—there it was.

The confirmation he was looking for.

No way… No fucking way…

At that moment, the door opened, and Duang stepped out, looking effortlessly radiant, like a breath of fresh air.

Qin quickly turned, the chair spinning to face Duang while still holding the pen.

“Oh, that’s a gift from my friend,” Duang said with a smile, his voice carrying a trace of nostalgia.

Qin nodded as his grip on the pen tightened briefly before he placed it back in the stand with an unreadable expression. 

Duang gestured toward the door. “Shall we get going then?”

Qin nodded once more, standing up from his seat to join Duang.

As they stepped out of the cabin together, both of them carried lingering thoughts—ones they neither dared to voice out loud.

By the time they exited out of the building, hushed whispers and murmurs followed and clouded them like a fog on a winter morning. Soft voices carried snippets of gossip—speculations about Qin’s rumored cold-hearted nature, the dating controversies that followed his name, and, most infuriatingly, how poor Duang might be his next victim.

“I wonder what kind of black magic this guy used on our boss to make him so obsessed,” a female employee muttered to her colleague, her voice carrying just enough for those nearby to hear.

The other scoffed. “Exactly! They don’t even look compatible. Our boss is like an angel, and this guy? He doesn’t seem to have an ounce of kindness in him.”

A male colleague chimed in with an unimpressed huff. “Honestly, I hope they break up soon. Our boss deserves someone better. Not this cold, ruthless robot of a human.”

Another snickered. “What does he even see in him? All he’s got are his looks—maybe a few borrowed skills here and there. Our boss could do so much better.”

The words were venomous, disguised as casual office gossip, but they weren’t quiet enough to go unnoticed.

Qin, as expected, remained completely unbothered, his expression unreadable, as if he had mastered the art of ignoring the world’s noise.

But Duang—Duang was not unaffected.

A flicker of irritation sparked in his chest.

Sure, once upon a time, he too had believed the same stories, the same exaggerated rumors that painted Qin as arrogant, ruthless, and unfeeling. But now… now that he had met him, now that he had seen how he carried himself, the way he spoke, the way he cared—Duang knew.

Qin definitely wasn’t the person the media made him out to be.

Doubts and suspicions still lingered, but one thing Duang was sure of—these people were dead wrong about Qin.

And the urge to defend him, to shut them all up, burned stronger than ever. Spinning on his heel, he turned and barged into the lobby to face the gossiping employees, his lips curling into a smile that was anything but friendly. His eyes, however, held a sharpness that sent a chill down their spines.

“Are you guys enjoying this?,” he drawled, voice saccharine sweet, yet laced with unmistakable warning. “You guys must have a lot of free time if you can just stand around gossiping about someone you barely know, huh? Should I take it as a sign that you don’t have enough work to do?”

A tense silence fell over the group, their faces paling slightly. Duang tilted his head, still smiling.

“Tell you what,” he continued, his voice dropping an octave. “Why don’t I personally arrange some extra work for you all? You’re not getting paid to run your mouths, you do know that, right? So I’d suggest you get back to actually working before you find yourselves saying bye-bye to your jobs.”

The effect was immediate. The group hastily exchanged nervous glances before mumbling excuses and scurrying away like cockroaches exposed to light. Duang watched them go, his smile fading into a scowl.

Pathetic.

Exhaling, he stepped out of the building with the same scolding expression on his face.

Qin, noticing Duang gritting his teeth and furrowing his brows, leaned in slightly, his face now directly in front of Duang’s. With his hands folded behind his back, he tilted his head, a small pout forming on his lips.

“What happened? Is something wrong?” he asked, concern lacing his voice.

Duang’s expression softened instantly at the sight of Qin’s adorable pout. Letting out a deep sigh, he admitted, “I just don’t like the way those people talked about you. You’re nothing like what they say… and it really annoys me.”

Qin blinked, momentarily taken aback by Duang’s response.

Still the same as always, huh? Qin thought.

Then a distant smile tugged at Qin’s lips. “I’m used to it,” he said softly. “It doesn’t bother me anymore. People love to gossip—let them. It’s not like I am who they think I am anyway.”

“But you shouldn’t have to just get used to something like that.…” Duang murmured, his brows knitting together. There was a strange pang in his chest, one he couldn’t quite place. But what he didn’t realize—somewhere, in some quiet corner of his heart—Qin had already settled in.

Qin, however, simply smiled. “It’s really fine, Duang. At first, it used to bother me a lot, but when you have someone who understands you—who truly sees you for who you really are—the rest of the world just doesn’t matter that much.”

A memory flashed in front of him.

Flashback

A month after Qin and Duang met in the cafeteria at the school 

It was after lunch break, and the classroom buzzed with chatter, the scraping of chairs, and the occasional burst of laughter from kids.

A boy with a buzzcut stomped over to a desk near the back, standing directly in front of 7-year-old Qin, who sat quietly, engrossed in a book.

“Hey, you!” the boy barked, his tone sharp and demanding.

Qin barely spared him a glance. He looked up, rolled his eyes in annoyance, and then promptly returned his gaze to the pages of his book, uninterested. 

The boy’s smirk twitched, clearly not liking being ignored. His hand shot out, snatching the book from Qin’s grasp before hurling it across the room. It landed with a dull thud near the classroom door.

Qin let out a deep sigh, already exhausted by the situation. Without a word, he stood up and began walking toward where his book had been thrown, with a slightly irritated expression. But just as he took another step, another boy—this one with a gap in his front teeth—stuck out his leg from where he was sitting.

Qin didn’t see it in time.

His foot caught on the outstretched leg, and in the next moment, he was falling forward, his hands barely breaking his fall as he landed hard on the floor. A few kids gasped. Others snickered. The buzzcut boy cackled, nudging his friend proudly.

Qin clenched his fists against the cold floor, his glasses slipping slightly down his nose. The sting of scraped skin bloomed across his knee. A sharp hiss of pain threatened to escape his lips, but he bit it back, pushing himself into a sitting position. He pressed his lips into a thin line. Before he could fully recover, the buzzcut boy snatched up Qin’s bag from his table and, with a smug grin, overturned it, sending its contents scattering across the classroom floor.

Laughter erupted instantly.

“Look, guys! He doesn't even talk back! He must be a mute!” a girl taunted, her voice shrill with amusement.

Another chimed in, “This is why he doesn’t even have any friends around him.”

Buzzcut boy sneered. “He must think he’s cool with that cold, stuck-up attitude. But guess what? He’s just a loner!”

The laughter intensified, a cacophony of jeers and snickers filling the space around Qin like a suffocating cloud.

Then, a different voice piped up—a girl’s, cutting through the noise with mock curiosity. “Not exactly a loner, though. Doesn’t he have that two-goody shoes, Duang, following him around everywhere?”

A chorus of exaggerated oohs and aahs rippled through the crowd, feeding off the cruelty.

“That doesn’t make any difference,” buzzcut boy scoffed. “Loner meets another loner. Still a loner.”

More laughter erupted. More whispers buzzed like bees. More judgments were passed so carelessly like it was daily news.

Qin remained silent throughout it all. He wasn’t new to this kind of treatment. The whispers that highlighted mockery. The cruel remarks. The way people dissected him like they had any right to decide what he was. He couldn’t understand every action of theirs, but he understood enough for his age. It was like a ghost refusing to leave him alone even if he continuously transferred schools.

He knew they liked being superior to him and showed their inferiority complex by bullying others. However, at the end of day despite the straight face he kept all day, It hurt, no matter how much he tried to ignore it. But over time, he’d learned to swallow the pain as well, to pretend their words didn’t reach his ears. He mastered the art of blocking those words away.

However all this time it was just him getting targeted. So he remained silent and endured. But right now, it only fueled the fire.

Because along with him, they were targeting his friend Duang too. About the friendship they shared.

And that boiled his blood more than it should. And something snapped like a twig inside him.

Nobody—nobody—was allowed to talk shit about the person who always made efforts to be close to him despite the rumours surrounding him. The boy who reached out and pulled him away from his loneliness and made him smile. The boy who meant the most to him in this school and this city.

Without hesitation, Qin stood up, turned around, grabbed the nearest book from the table and hurled it straight at the buzzcut boy’s face. The hardcover struck him with a loud thud, sending a shocked silence through the classroom. It pushed the buzzcut boy a little back and he stumbled on his step. 

“You little—!” The boy’s face twisted in rage. Straightening himself, his hand was already pulling back for a punch.

But before his fist could make contact with Qin, something else came flying through the air.

Smack!

A wooden chalk duster slammed right into the buzzcut boy’s nose, not hard enough to draw blood but definitely hard enough to make him reel back in pain, clutching his face with a sharp wince.

“Do not touch him!”

The voice that rang out was nothing short of a roar.

Everyone froze.

It was Duang.

The boy who always smiled, always laughed, never raised his voice—now stood in front of the teaching board, eyes blazing with unfiltered fury. The warmth he usually carried was gone, replaced by a suffocating anger that filled the room. And at that moment everyone in the class knew that they had messed with the wrong person.  

Seeing a quiet person angry was one thing. But witnessing the rage of someone who was always cheerful, always carefree? That was something else entirely. Those were the ones you never wanted to push too far. 

A heavy silence settled over the class. No one dared to breathe too loudly.

Duang’s sharp gaze remained locked on the boy who had dared to raise a hand against his Qin. Then, with deliberate steps, he made his way toward the fallen boy on the ground.

He knelt beside Qin and, instead of saying anything right away, leaned in and gently pressed their foreheads together and rubbed against it. A silent comfort. His warmth seeped into Qin’s skin, melting away the sting of humiliation, and—just as he’d hoped—Qin’s lips twitched into a small smile.

Satisfied, Duang pulled back slightly and whispered, “Wait for me, okay?”

Qin nodded, the ghost of a smile still on his face.

Duang stood up. And then, he turned around to face the ones who dared to hurt the person he cherished most.

Duang faced the buzzcut boy, his expression cold, his eyes blazing with fury. But when he spoke, his voice was eerily calm.

“Touch him or hurt him one more time, and you’ll face something worse than what happened today.”

His words weren’t a threat—they were a promise. A promise meant to deliver if the rules were broken.

The buzzcut boy, his earlier arrogance completely gone, could do nothing but nod, fear tightening his throat. The entire class remained frozen, too stunned to say anything. Duang wasn’t just angry—he was deadly serious. And they all knew he meant every single word.

Without another glance at them, Duang turned back to Qin. But this time, the rage vanished from his face, replaced by the gentlest smile. He crouched down in front of him, patting his back in invitation.

Qin hesitated for a moment, but with some effort, he climbed onto Duang’s back, wincing slightly as he wrapped his arms around the other boy’s shoulders. Duang adjusted his grip and stood up with ease, carrying Qin effortlessly as he walked out of the classroom without sparing anyone else a second look.

The hallway was quiet, only the sound of Duang’s steady footsteps echoing as he made his way toward the infirmary.

After a few moments of silence, Qin finally murmured, “Thank you, Du…”

Duang turned his head slightly to give him a look before sighing dramatically. “Qin, you idiot. Why didn’t you tell me that they were being mean to you?”

Qin mumbled against Duang’s shoulder, his voice barely above a whisper. “It’s nothing new, Du. Used to it.”

Duang's grip on Qin tightened slightly as he huffed in frustration.

“No! They were saying mean things about my Qin! Qin shouldn’t be used to it! My Qin is super sweet—he shoos away people who are mean to Qin, he gives me his chicken, he plays with me, he listens to me, and he never, ever says mean things to me. They don’t know anything! They are all wrong about Qin!”

His voice was filled with conviction, his tiny body practically vibrating with righteous anger. “Qin is super, super sweet and kind! If they say another mean word about my Qin, I’ll kick their shins so hard they’ll cry home to their moms!”

Duang kept rambling, his words tumbling out without pause, each sentence filled with warmth, frustration, and an overwhelming sense of protectiveness. He kept going on and on about how amazing Qin was, how important he was, and how none of those mean kids had the right to say anything about him.

Qin simply listened. And with every word being spoken, it loosened the knot inside his heart.

He had always transferred schools too often to form lasting bonds. Whenever he tried to get close to people, they either ignored him or turned him away. Eventually, he had accepted it as his fate—to always be alone, to always be misunderstood.

But now, for the first time, someone saw him. Really saw him.

And maybe Duang’s words were the ones he had been waiting to hear for the longest time.

And it made Qin cry. He couldn’t hold it in anymore—silent tears spilled down his cheeks as he sobbed gently against Duang’s shoulder.

Duang, feeling the wetness seep into his uniform, immediately pouted. “Qin, is it hurting much? It will go away soon, okay? I promise!” His voice was laced with concern, his small hands gripping Qin’s legs a little tighter as he carried him.

“I’ll blow kisses on it once we’re inside the infirmary, okay?” Duang continued, trying to cheer him up. “Nobody will say mean things to you from now on. Because they don’t know how amazing my Qin is!”

With that, he nuzzled his head against Qin’s cheek in an attempt to comfort him before speeding up, determined to get them to the infirmary as quickly as possible.

And just like he said, Duang blew soft kisses on Qin’s knee which had a band-aid on it now.

Flashback ends

“You don't have to worry too much about that, Duang.”

His voice was calm, almost reassuring, as if he had already made peace with all the misconceptions people held about him. But Duang couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling in his heart.

Before he could say anything else, Qin clapped his hands together. “Oh! Let me call my butler to pick us up so we can head to the place I have in mind.”

Duang blinked, puzzled. “Why do you need your butler to pick us up?”

Qin let out a small, sheepish chuckle and rubbed the back of his neck. “Because… I don’t know how to drive.”

Duang stared at him for a moment, then let out a small exhale, shaking his head with a fond smile. “That’s a minor issue. You don’t have to call him.”

Qin tilted his head. “Then… who’s going to drive?”

“Me, of course,” Duang said matter-of-factly, crossing his arms.

Qin’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Wait—you know how to drive?”

Duang scoffed, amused by the genuine shock on Qin’s face. “I do, obviously. Just wait here, I’ll go get my car.”

Before Qin could protest, Duang was already jogging towards the elevator, heading to the basement parking lot.

Soon enough, a sleek convertible Benz rolled to a stop right in front of Qin. Duang smirked, tapping the passenger seat with a casual flick of his fingers, wordlessly instructing Qin to get in.

With a soft chuckle, Qin shook his head at Duang’s antics before slipping into the seat. The moment both of them had their seatbelts secured, Duang pressed a button, and the deep, powerful roar of the engine echoed through the air. The car surged forward, and they were off.

Qin found himself mesmerized—not just by the ride, but by Duang himself. The way he handled the wheel with effortless precision, smoothly maneuvering through the curves of the road with one hand while the other rested lazily against the open window. The cool wind ruffled Duang’s hair, the sunlight catching the sharp angles of his face, making him look like something straight out of a movie.

“You drive so well…” Qin blurted out, unable to hold back his thoughts.

Duang scoffed, but it held no real bite. “Of course, I do! Did you think I was lying?”

“No,” Qin mused, his gaze still fixed on Duang. “I just didn’t think anyone could look this hot while driving.”

Duang’s breath hitched. His grip on the steering wheel tightened, and a deep blush spread across his cheeks.

He coughed, awkwardly clearing his throat. “Focus on the road, Duang,” he muttered to himself under his breath, trying desperately to ignore the way his heart was slamming against his ribcage.

Qin, on the other hand, simply leaned back in his seat with a satisfied grin, watching Duang struggle.

This guy is going to be the death of me, Duang thought, biting his lip to suppress a smile.

As the car left behind the towering skyscrapers and bustling streets of the city, it ventured into the quiet embrace of nature. The roadside transformed into a picturesque scene—lush green trees lined both sides of the path, their canopies swaying gently in the twilight breeze. Bushes and wildflowers peeked through the dense foliage, creating a dreamlike setting that felt both serene and untouched. The orangish hues of the setting sun filtered through the leaves, casting dancing shadows across the road. It was the kind of place that seemed made for wanderers and lovers alike.

Duang, still gripping the wheel with ease, stole a glance at Qin. “Where exactly are we going?” he asked, his voice laced with curiosity. “I don’t think I’ve ever been to this part of the city.”

Qin simply smiled, his expression teasing yet warm. “You’ll find out soon.”

Intrigued but trusting, Duang continued driving. Soon, the road opened up into a vast, breathtaking meadow filled with wildflowers swaying gently in the evening breeze. Clusters of black-eyed Susans, vibrant poppies, and delicate cornflowers painted the landscape in a kaleidoscope of colors. The entire place radiated an almost magical charm, like something out of a dream.

Qin leaned forward slightly and pointed ahead. “Take the next left. You’ll see a sign board that says ‘Sunset Viewing Point.’”

Duang followed his direction, smoothly taking the turn. Within moments, his eyes landed on the signboard.

“Miracle Sunset Viewing Point.”

The words stood tall against the backdrop of the now purplish sky, marking the entrance to what promised to be an unforgettable evening.

Duang smoothly parked the car in the parking lot, turning off the engine. As he unbuckled his seatbelt, he noticed something unusual—there were no other cars in sight. For a beautiful viewpoint like this, he had expected at least a few visitors enjoying the sunset. But the entire place was eerily quiet, like an abandoned haunted site, bathed only in the soft glow of twilight and the distant hum of nature.

Curious, he turned to Qin with a questioning look. The latter, however, seemed to be avoiding eye contact. Duang’s brows furrowed slightly at the odd behavior until he noticed something else—Qin’s ears were tinted red. Flustered.

“I… booked the whole space for us tonight,” Qin finally admitted, voice barely above a mumble. His gaze remained fixed on the dashboard as if it were the most interesting thing in the world. “I’m sorry if I went overboard…”

Duang blinked in shock, his lips parting slightly. “No, no! Don’t be sorry,” he quickly reassured, shaking his head. “I’m just a little surprised… Why are you going to such great lengths for me?”

At that, Qin groaned in frustration, finally turning to look at him. His cheeks were flushed, his neck burning red, and even the tips of his ears looked like they were on fire. “Gosh… How many times do you want me to say it?” He whined, his lips pressing into a pout. “Isn’t it obvious? I want to court you, to woo you, Duang.”

To that Duang just let out a fond chuckle. He mentally took note of how utterly entertaining and adorable Qin’s reactions were. There was a certain charm in watching him get flustered, and he had to admit—he enjoyed the reactions the other gave. With a teasing smile, he said, “You’re adorable, Qin.”

Predictably, Qin puffed out his cheeks in protest, but Duang only chuckled before gesturing towards the path ahead. “Let’s go now, yeah?”

With that, the two stepped out of the car and onto the soft, grassy trail. The air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of wildflowers that swayed gently with the evening breeze. The only sounds accompanying them were the distant chirping of crickets and the quiet rustling of leaves.

Neither of them spoke much, yet the silence between them was anything but awkward. It was peaceful—comforting. Every now and then, they’d steal glances at each other, only to quickly look away when caught.

By now, the sun had long dipped below the horizon, allowing the moon to take its place in the sky. The path ahead was illuminated by scattered lampposts and the natural glow of the stars above, casting a serene atmosphere over the entire setting.

After a while, Qin slowed his steps before turning towards Duang, an excited yet slightly hesitant look on his face. “Uh… I know this is the path that everyone takes,” he started, rubbing the back of his neck, “but I actually have a secret place I want to show you.”

Duang arched a curious brow, intrigued.

“Would you like to see it?” Qin continued. “Of course, no pressure.” he quickly added.

There wasn’t a single moment of hesitation from Duang before he nodded. “Please, lead the way.”

Qin stepped ahead, guiding Duang through a slightly overgrown, bushy path. Every so often, he glanced back to make sure Duang was still there, a small crease of concern forming between his brows. The last thing he wanted was for Duang to get lost in the unfamiliar terrain.

After a few more steps, the narrow path opened up into another clearing. But unlike the previous open space, which had been decorated with an array of wildflowers, this one was entirely different.

Dandelions.

The field before them was a sea of delicate white dandelions, their feathery seeds swaying gently in the night breeze. The soft glow of the moon reflected off them, making the place look almost otherworldly—like they had stepped into a fairy tale.

They continued walking until they reached a comfortable spot to sit. Qin took a deep breath, his voice softer now, as if he was afraid of disturbing the tranquility of the place. “I found this place by chance,” he admitted. “One day, I was so exhausted and stressed from work that I just disguised myself, hopped on a random bus, and let it take me wherever. I had no destination in mind—and that’s how I ended up here.”

His gaze drifted over the field before he continued, “This place became something special to me—a personal escape. A spot where I could just… breathe.”

Qin then turned to Duang, his eyes filled with something indescribable—something deep, warm, and sincere. “You’re the first person I’ve ever brought here,” he confessed, as if that meant everything.

Duang was stunned into silence.

It was one thing to let someone into your life. But to bring them to a place so personal, so treasured—to reveal a part of yourself that no one else had ever seen before—was something else entirely.

Duang swallowed, his heart aching in the best way possible. He found himself wondering just how special he was to Qin for him to trust him this much.

“Let’s sit down.” Qin then lowered himself onto the grass, not caring in the slightest if his pants got stained. The soft earth beneath him felt cool and grounding. Duang followed suit, settling beside him in the vast dandelion field. For a few moments, they simply sat in silence, basking in the quiet beauty of the night. The only sounds were the whisper of the wind and the occasional rustle of the dandelion seeds dancing in the breeze.

Then, breaking the silence, Duang spoke. “I noticed something,” he mused, his voice gentle. “This place is different from the rest of the meadow. The other spaces were filled with different wildflowers, but here… it’s just dandelions.”

He let out a soft chuckle before continuing, “Dandelions hold a special place in my heart.” His gaze softened, and under the moonlight, his features glowed with quiet fondness.

Qin tilted his head slightly. “How so?” he asked, his expression unreadable.

Duang took a deep breath, his fingers absentmindedly brushing over the grass beside him. “On my 29th birthday, I received a potted dandelion plant from an anonymous sender. At first, I didn’t think much of it, but then I saw a sticky note attached to it.” He paused for a brief second, as if recalling the memory vividly in his mind. “The note wasn’t anything extravagant—it was simple, but heartfelt. Whoever sent it… they put their emotions into those words. It was endearing.”

“I don’t know who it was,” Duang admitted, his voice soft with nostalgia. “But that one small gesture made my birthday feel so much more meaningful. And not just that—whenever I felt down or had a long day, just looking at it would make me feel better, almost like it actually granted my wish.”

As Duang finished his story, he turned to look at Qin—only to be met with a sight that caught him completely off guard.

Qin’s eyes were brimming with tears. The moonlight reflected in them, making them sparkle like the stars above. His lips wobbled slightly, his throat bobbing as he swallowed back the words he couldn’t quite say.

Duang immediately panicked. “Wha—What happened? Qin, what’s wrong?” He leaned in, his concern evident. “Is the darkness making you scared? Did I say something wrong?”

Qin let out a shaky breath, his lips parting as if to respond, but no words came out. Instead, he simply shook his head, biting his lip.

Duang grew even more confused. What could have possibly moved Qin to tears?

Qin shook his head, his shoulders trembling as soft sobs escaped his lips. Between sniffles, he finally admitted, “That gift… it was from me. I never thought you would even keep it…” His voice cracked, raw with emotion.

Duang’s eyes widened in shock. “That gift was from you?” He searched Qin’s face for any sign of hesitation, any trace of dishonesty.

Qin nodded, hurriedly rubbing at his tear-streaked cheeks.

Duang exhaled sharply, his mind reeling. “Then… why didn’t you write your name on it?” His voice was laced with a hint of skepticism.

Qin let out a watery chuckle, his lips curving into a self-deprecating smile. “Honestly, would you have kept it if you knew it was from me?” His voice wavered, his eyes still glossy with tears. “The so-called ‘cold-heir’ of the Charat family? The person everyone loves to gossip about?”

Duang opened his mouth to respond but hesitated.

Because Qin was right.

Back then, before he had ever met Qin in person, he had been just like everyone else—believing the rumors, the headlines, the assumptions. If he had seen Qin’s name attached to the gift, would he have given it a second thought? Would he have even opened the box? 

The answer was clear.

The silence stretched between them, and Qin let out a trembling sigh. “See?” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “That’s why I kept it nameless.” He bit his lip, blinking rapidly to hold back more tears. “But to know that you picked it up, that you cherished it so much that it became something special to you… of course, that would make me cry.” His throat bobbed as he swallowed the lump of overwhelming emotions building up inside him.

Then, almost hesitantly, he whispered, “Can I hug you?” His voice was barely audible, tinged with something desperate—like he was grasping for stability amidst the flood of emotions.

Duang didn’t answer.

He didn’t need to.

Instead, he simply reached forward and pulled Qin into his arms, wrapping him in a firm, grounding embrace. He felt the way Qin melted into him, clutching onto his shirt as though afraid that if he let go, he’d fall apart completely.

Qin buried his face in Duang’s shoulder, his breathing uneven as he held on tightly—desperately—like Duang was his anchor in this storm of emotions.

Of course, their position for the hug was a little awkward—tight and slightly off-balance—but neither of them cared. Duang’s arms remained firm around Qin, and without thinking, his fingers started tracing soothing circles over Qin’s back.

For a while, they simply stayed like that, wrapped in each other’s warmth, with nothing but the sound of the rustling dandelions and the distant hum of the wind filling the silence.

Eventually, Qin slowly pulled away, his nose slightly blotchy, his eyes puffy from crying. But under the gentle glow of the moonlight, he looked breathtaking—like something otherworldly, an angel who had stumbled upon this realm by accident.

And just like that, Duang found himself captivated all over again.

How could someone be this beautiful?

What had he done in his past life to deserve someone who showered him with such deep affection, adoration, and care?

He opened his mouth, hesitation flickering in his eyes before he finally spoke.

“Why dandelions?”

The words that came out weren’t the ones he truly wanted to ask.

Why me?

But he chose not to say that.

Qin, now hugging his knees to his chest, rocked back and forth slightly. His gaze was fixed on the ground, his expression soft, almost wistful.

“Because dandelions remind me of you,” he murmured. His voice was gentle, carrying the weight of something unspoken.

Duang tilted his head slightly, waiting.

Qin took a small breath before continuing.

“Sun, moon, and stars. Dandelions are said to represent all three. And that… perfectly suits you.” He paused, then turned his head to meet Duang’s gaze, sincerity shining in his teary eyes.

“In my eyes, you are the sun, the moon, and the stars of my life.”

His voice was barely above a whisper, yet it carried so much weight. So much meaning.

Duang’s heart stuttered. His features softened, his lips curling into a fond chuckle as he shook his head in exasperation.

“You’re making me go crazy for you,” he muttered, half-laughing, half-resigned. “At this rate, I might actually fall for you.”

Qin let out a soft chuckle in response, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “That’s exactly my plan, Khun Duang.” Then, with a playful smirk, he added, “And if you do fall, don’t worry—I’ll be there to catch you.”

Duang scoffed, but his heart was thundering in his chest. The words, despite their teasing nature, carried a weight that settled deep within him.

He exhaled, his gaze still tender, still warm, as he shook his head in wonder. “Who exactly are you, huh? What are you doing to my heart?”

Qin tilted his head, pretending to ponder the question. Then, with a soft smile, he met Duang’s eyes and said,

“Qin.”

And suddenly, Qin turned away, facing forward.

“Oh—it's time.”

The night sky above them exploded into color.

A cascade of fireworks burst into the heavens, painting the darkness with dazzling shades of crimson, sapphire, and gold. Each one bloomed like a flower of light, illuminating the entire meadow in breathtaking brilliance.

But Duang wasn’t paying attention to the fireworks at all. His gaze fixed on his lap. His thoughts were somewhere far away, tangled in the fragments of memories that suddenly surfaced.  

A boy.  

Quiet.  

Wearing spectacles.  

A name echoed in his mind.  

‘Qin.’

And then, as if something inside him had been abruptly switched on, realization struck him like lightning.  

His head snapped toward Qin, eyes wide in shock.   

Duang’s heart pounded.  

That boy is him?!

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

20 years ago

“I’M NOT GOING ANYWHERE!”

Nine-year-old Qin screamed in Chinese, his tiny frame trembling as fat tears streamed down his flushed cheeks. His little legs kicked furiously, and he thrashed against his parents’ firm grip, shaking his head in wild defiance.

“BABA AND MAMA ARE NEVER HOME! I’M ALWAYS ALONE, AND I’M TIRED OF IT!” His voice cracked with emotion, but he didn’t care if he was making a scene. His heart was too full, too desperate, to be silenced.

“I don’t want to leave Du!” he wailed, his chest rising and falling with each breathless sob. “He makes me happy! He plays with me! Other kids never even tried to be my friend, but he never left my side! So why do we have to leave?!”

The little boy’s hands clutched at the fabric of his parents’ sleeves, his knuckles white.

“Can’t we stay here forever?” His voice wavered, his plea raw and unfiltered, laced with the kind of innocence that only a child could possess, when deep down, despite his age, Qin knew—some things were never meant to last.

The little boy’s words shattered his parents' hearts. They had always assumed their child understood their absence, that he knew they were busy for his sake—for their family’s future. They never thought twice about missing his school events, always sending a worker or an assistant in their place. But now, hearing it straight from his tearful lips, they realized the weight of their choices. They saw, perhaps for the first time, just how lonely and neglected their son must have felt.

“Qin,” his mother crouched down, reaching for him with trembling hands, her voice laced with sorrow. “Baba… doesn’t have enough money to let you stay in this school anymore. We have to go back, love.”

Her words were gentle, but the truth behind them was anything but.

The Charat Group was on the verge of ruin. A scammer had bled their company dry, and bankruptcy loomed over them like an unrelenting storm. As much as it pained them, they had no choice. Staying wasn’t an option—not when their very survival was at stake.

If they didn’t leave now, they wouldn’t just be losing the school. They’d lose everything.

“But… Du…?” Qin asked quietly, his voice barely above a whisper, as if saying the name any louder would make it disappear.

His father, now kneeling beside him, gently placed a hand on his small shoulder. “Qin,” he said, his tone soft yet steady, “Baba and Mama promise you… Once you’re big enough, we’ll come back here. And when we do, you’ll get to meet your Qin again. Okay? How does that sound, my child?”

Qin’s tear-streaked face remained scrunched in hesitation. He searched his father’s eyes, looking for any sign of false hope, any hint that this was just a way to make him comply.

“Hmph… okay…” he mumbled, rubbing at his wet cheeks. “But we will come back, right? You promise?”

His parents exchanged a glance, their own guilt weighing heavy on their hearts. They could only hope they weren’t making a promise they couldn’t keep.

“Yes, sweetie,” they said in unison, their voices firm. “We will.”

The next day, after classes, little Qin and little Duang sat side by side on the swings, their small legs dangling as they waited for their parents. The playground was quieter now, most of the children having already left.

Qin sniffled, his tiny fists clutching the chains of the swing as he bit down on his bottom lip, trying his best not to make a sound. But his little shoulders shook, and his teary eyes glistened under the evening sun.

Duang, sitting beside him, pouted deeply. He didn’t like seeing Qin cry.

“Qin, why are you crying?” he asked, scooting closer, his voice filled with concern.

Through wobbly sobs and broken Korean, Qin tried to explain, “Baba, Mama said we going back… Can’t see Du… Can’t play with Du… Qin sad…”

Duang’s eyes widened. He quickly jumped down from his swing, the sand crunching beneath his feet, and stood in front of Qin. Without hesitation, he leaned forward, pressing his forehead gently against Qin’s, a big, reassuring smile stretching across his face.

“Ishhokay,” Duang said softly, his tiny hands gripping the edges of Qin’s swing to keep him steady. “We will meet each other soon, right?”

His voice was so full of certainty, so full of warmth, that for a moment, Qin wanted to believe it.

Qin sniffled again, rubbing his eyes with the back of his sleeve before looking up at Duang with watery eyes. His bottom lip jutted out softly, trembling just a little.

“What if… what if Du forgets Qin?” he asked, his voice small and uncertain.

Duang gasped dramatically, as if the mere thought was outrageous. Then, with a big grin, he leaned in again, rubbing his forehead against Qin’s in a comforting gesture. “Then give Du something that will never make him forget his Qin!”

The ticklish sensation made Qin giggle between his sniffles. Hearing that sweet sound, Duang immediately pulled back, clapping his hands in excitement.

“Qin is smiling!” he chirped, bouncing on his heels like he’d just won a prize.

Qin sniffled one last time before reaching into his tiny school backpack. He rummaged around for a moment before pulling out something and holding it out to Duang with both hands.

“This… my favorite pen,” he said shyly, sniffling again. “Qin give Du.”

Duang took the pen carefully, eyes widening in fascination. It was a unicorn glitter pen, filled with sparkly liquid that swirled inside when he tilted it. He let out a small, awed “ooh” before his eyes caught something written on the side of the pen. The words were in Chinese.

“Qin, what's this?” Duang asked curiously, pointing at the letters.

Qin wiped his nose with his sleeve before answering softly, “QD.”

Duang blinked. “QD?”

Qin nodded shyly. “Du, promise… you never forget Qin?” He hesitated for a moment before stretching out his tiny pinky finger toward Duang, looking up at him with wide, hopeful eyes.

Duang didn’t even need to think. He immediately hooked his pinky around Qin’s, gripping it tightly.

“Du will never forget his Qin,” he declared with a firm nod, eyes shining with determination. “Promise.”

Just then, the sharp honk of a car filled the air. Duang's ride had arrived.

He immediately grabbed his bag, slinging it over his tiny shoulders before making a beeline toward the car.

Qin sat there quietly, his little hands clutching the chains of the swing, watching Duang’s retreating figure with sad, glistening eyes. His heart felt heavy—he didn’t want Bingbing to leave.

But just as Duang was about to climb into the car, he suddenly stopped.

Spinning around on his heel, he beamed at Qin with that signature bright grin of his, his eyes twinkling like the stars beginning to appear in the evening sky.

Waving both hands excitedly, he shouted, “See you soon, Qin! Let’s meet again, okay?!”

The car door shut, the engine rumbled, and soon, Duang was gone.

But the warmth of his words, the sincerity in his voice, and the promise of meeting again lingered in the air—embedding itself deep within Qin’s heart.

“We’ll meet again. I’ll make sure of it, Du.” The 9-year old boy whispered into the evening sky.

A month had passed since Qin's departure. To say Duang was sad would be an understatement. At first, he thought his Qin had simply gone on a short holiday, just like the ones his parents took him on from time to time. But days turned into weeks, and Qin still hadn’t come back.

Each passing day chipped away at Duang’s heart, little by little, until the weight of it all became too much to bear.

One afternoon, his mother, Duang's mother, found her little boy curled up under his blanket, hidden away from the world. The room was dim, the curtains drawn, and the only sound was the occasional sniffle coming from beneath the covers.

She let out a soft sigh before sitting beside him, gently patting his head in a comforting rhythm.

“Duang,” she murmured, her voice laced with warmth. “Why don’t you want to go to school anymore, hm?”

A moment of silence passed before Duang poked his head out slightly, his cheeks puffed in a small pout.

“Because…” His voice wavered as he hugged his knees tighter. “There’s no Qin to play with me.”

Duang's mother’s heart ached at the sight of her little boy, his tiny fists clenching around the fabric of his pajama pants, his lips trembling as he tried to hold back his tears.

“And who is this Qin?” she asked gently, brushing a stray strand of hair from his forehead.

Duang sniffled, his voice small but filled with conviction.

“I already told you so many times. Qin is my best friend! He never teases me. He always plays with me. He even gives me his chicken. And—” His voice cracked slightly. “And he shoos away people who are mean to me.”

Duang's mother’s eyes softened. She let out a small sigh, gently rubbing his back. “And where is this Qin, dear?”

At that, Duang’s face crumpled, and the dam of his emotions burst.

“I don’t know…” he admitted in a whisper before breaking into full sobs. “I want my Mae, Eomma. Please give me my Qin, Mae.”

His little hands clung desperately to her as if she could somehow bring his best friend back just by holding him close. 

Duang's mother’s heart ached at the sight of her little boy, curled up in her arms, his tiny body trembling with sadness. She continued rubbing soothing circles on his back, whispering comforting words, but the emptiness in his eyes remained.

It had been a week. A whole week since Duang had stopped playing, stopped smiling the way he used to. He refused to go outside, refused to do anything at all. His parents were growing worried. They didn’t even know where Qin and his family was currently and the school was not ready to agree to disclose their personal information. With that there was no way to track down the person.

Duang's mother sighed, searching for a way to ease his pain. She pressed a gentle kiss to his temple before speaking in a soft, reassuring tone.

“Shhh, baby. You know… if you study hard, grow up strong and kind, Qin will come back to you sooner.”

Duang immediately stilled in her arms.

“Really?” He pulled back slightly, his wide, teary eyes searching hers for the truth. “If I grow up fast, if I become a good person, Qin will come back to me? And he’ll never leave my side again?”

Duang's mother felt a pang of guilt settle deep in her chest. She knew she was giving him a promise she had no way of keeping. But how could she let him stay trapped in this sadness? How could she bear to see her little boy so broken?

So she forced a smile and nodded. “Yes, baby. He will come back to you and will never, ever leave you again.”

At that, the brightest smile spread across Duang’s face. It was so pure, so full of hope, that for a moment, Duang's mother forgot all about the guilt in her heart. She could only marvel at how much this “Qin” truly meant to him.

Meanwhile, Duang clenched his little fists, determination shining in his eyes as a single thought filled his mind.

We’ll meet again, right, Qin?

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Back to the present

And then, as if something inside him had been abruptly switched on, realization struck him like lightning.  

His head snapped toward Qin, eyes wide in shock.   

Duang’s heart pounded.  

Qin?!

Duang’s gaze remained locked onto the man beside him—the one who was completely unaware of the internal storm raging within him.

Qin sat there, bathed in the soft glow of moonlight, mesmerized by the fireworks, his face glowing under the bursts of color in the night sky. He let out soft “ohs” and “wows” whenever something particularly beautiful caught his eye, like a little kid.

But Duang was in a dilemma.

His mind kept conjuring an image from the past—of a little boy with round spectacles and long hair, school cafeteria, chicken, introducing himself.

“Qin.”

Duang sucked in a breath.

His mind raced, comparing the little boy’s features to the man sitting beside him.

Piece by piece, memory by memory, the puzzle was coming together, and with every detail that matched, certainty settled into his bones.

The doe-like cat eyes that gleamed with excitement whenever they landed on Duang. The adorable head tilt—just like a little fox. The eye-blinding smile, so warm and radiant it could light up an entire town. And then, the pet name—Du. A name only one person had ever called him.

This wasn’t a coincidence. Qin was definitely his Qin.

Duang felt like the time around him stopped.

He didn’t know how to feel—Relief? Shock? Nostalgia? Happiness? Anger? Disbelief?

It was becoming too much.

Too many questions and thoughts crashed into Duang’s mind like a typhoon, swirling inside his head.

If he’s really my Qin, why didn’t he tell me when we met?

Why did he hide it?

Did he?... No, that's impossible! 

The mere thought of Qin might be playing with him, toying with his emotions just because Duang couldn’t remember, was unbearable. However, he also knew that was definitely not the case.

Because he had seen it—the way Qin looked at him, the tenderness in his gestures, the sincerity in every action. His feelings were genuine.

Then why?

Why hasn’t he told me yet?

What’s stopping him from revealing the truth?

The cascade questions spun endlessly in Duang’s mind, each one pulling him deeper into uncertainty. If Qin had kept this a secret, there had to be a reason.

But what was it?

Does he… not trust me?

The thought lodged itself deep in Duang’s chest, twisting like a thorn.

He didn’t want to admit this. But, maybe it was true. After all, Qin had kept this hidden from him. He hadn’t revealed his identity, and hadn't given Duang the chance to remember.

And that… hurt.

Even if Qin had his reasons, even if there was some explanation waiting to be uncovered, it didn’t make the ache any less sharp. Lost in the whirlwind of his own emotions, he didn’t even realize that Qin had been calling his name.

“...Duang? Duang?”

A hand waved in front of his face, pulling him back into the present.

Duang blinked, snapping out of his thoughts and met Qin’s concerned gaze.

“What?...” His voice came out slightly off, his composure shaken.

“I’ve been calling your name like forever,” Qin whined, pouting slightly as he lightly poked Duang’s chest. “I asked if you enjoyed the fireworks, but you looked so lost… I don’t think you even watched them.” His voice softened, a flicker of sadness in his gaze. “I arranged them for you.”

Duang’s breath caught. His eyes widened as he glanced up at the night sky, only to find it now empty—just a vast stretch of stars, the fireworks long gone.

Guilt crept in. “Uhh… sorry for that,” he murmured— his mind was still tangled in the thoughts from earlier.

Qin pressed his lips together in a small, tight-lipped smile and gave a small nod.

Just then, Duang glanced at his watch, seizing the opportunity. “I’m sorry to say this, Qin, but… can we go home? I’m pretty tired from work.”

It wasn’t a complete lie. He was tired—just not from work. His mind was a storm, swirling with questions, with emotions he couldn’t untangle. He needed space. Needed time.

And that meant leaving. Now.

Qin could sense the shift in Duang’s mood—he had been fine just moments ago. Something had definitely changed. 

“Is everything okay?” Qin asked cautiously, searching Duang’s face for answers.

“Yeah… just tired. Can we go, please?” Duang insisted, his voice carrying a pleading edge. His thoughts were consuming him, clawing at his mind. He needed to leave.

Qin gave a brisk nod. His chest tightened as he watched Duang rise to his feet, barely sparing him a glance before heading toward the path they came from. A flash of hurt crossed Qin’s eyes.

This wasn’t how tonight was supposed to go.

Qin had planned something more—something special. He had thought of taking Duang to a beach where he had arranged a romantic candlelight dinner under the moonlit sky. After the food, the both would share a quiet dance. He had envisioned soft laughter, whispered words, and more.

But all of that came crashing down in an instant.

Of course, Qin didn’t blame Duang. If he was tired, then he was tired. That was all.

And yet, he couldn’t shake the ache in his chest. Because for the first time, it felt like Duang wanted to get away from him.

And that hurt more than Qin ever could have imagined.

Both of them got into the car, and Duang drove off toward the city.

The silence between them, once comfortable, now felt suffocating—heavy, pressing down on them like a malicious force. Its hands wrapped around them with its venomous claws, digging in deep, making it harder to breathe.

The car moved steadily through the streets, past billboards flashing in neon hues, past convenience stores still alive with the hum of late-night customers, past towering skyscrapers that stretched toward the heavens. The moonlight glowed against the glass panels of the buildings, making them shimmer like scattered diamonds across the cityscape.

But none of it mattered. Neither of them noticed the beauty around them. Neither of them was present in the moment. They were too caught up in their own thoughts, tangled in uncertainties they didn’t know how to voice.

Soon enough, the car rolled to a stop in front of the Charat Mansion.

Qin let out a deep sigh before turning to Duang, whose face remained unreadable, his expression carefully composed. Unable to hold back, Qin finally spoke, his voice gentle yet firm. “I know something is bothering you, and I won’t ask what it is. But just know… I’m here. Whenever you need someone to listen.”

With those words, he pulled out his phone and silently extended it toward Duang, wordlessly asking for his number.

Duang’s face softened, his guarded walls cracking just a little. Guilt crept in as he took in the sadness lingering in Qin’s eyes.

Taking the phone, he typed in his number before handing it back. “I’m really sorry,” he admitted, voice laced with sincerity. “I didn’t mean to ruin today… There’s just a lot going on in my mind.”

Qin smiled softly, shaking his head as if to dismiss Duang’s worries. “It’s okay, I understand.”

Slipping his phone back into his pocket, he quickly gave Duang’s phone a ring to save his number. Just as he reached for the door handle, a gentle but firm grip stopped him in his tracks.

Surprised, Qin turned back to face Duang, ready to ask what was wrong. But before he could utter a single word, warmth pressed against his cheek—a fleeting, tender kiss.

Duang pulled back just slightly, his voice laced with quiet gratitude. “I really enjoyed spending time with you, Qin. Thank you so much for everything.”

Qin’s cheeks turned a soft shade of pink as he gave a small nod.

The realization of what Duang had just done hit him like an arrow, and he immediately pulled away, his face turning bright red. His hand shot up to rub the back of his neck, his voice flustered. “I’m sorry… I don’t know what came over me—”

“It’s okay, I liked it,” Qin blurted out, his own embarrassment peaking before he hastily pushed open the door and bolted out of the car.

Duang blinked, watching Qin’s retreating figure before a goofy smile tugged at his lips. “Cute,” he muttered under his breath.

Just before disappearing inside, Qin turned around and gave a small wave. Duang lifted a hand in return, watching until the door finally closed behind him.

The moment he was alone again, Duang let out a deep sigh. Though the warmth of the moment still lingered, the thoughts that had been gnawing at him hadn’t disappeared. If anything, they loomed even heavier now.

Maybe I should wait. And with that, he forcibly pushed down those thoughts. Not when things were finally happening. 

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Slowly, they started seeing each other more often—at the office, in cafés, at parties, and anywhere in between. They began exchanging texts too—cute messages, memes, and reels whenever they had a moment to spare.  

Before long, the cute messages turned into cringy, flirty texts, and then into late-night calls that stretched for hours. With hot chocolate in hand, they sat on their respective balconies, gazing at the stars as they talked about everything and nothing—work mishaps, the funniest thing that happened during the day, office gossip, and more.

Their conversations were always like this:

Qin: 
If I had a dollar for every time I thought about you today…

Duang: 
You’d be rich, huh?

Qin: 
I’d still be broke because you never leave my mind.

Duang: 
Qin, that was so bad I physically cringed.

Qin: 
But you smiled, didn’t you?

Duang: 
…Shut up.

Jamie, who had watched this live telecast of his boss being a lovesick fool unfold, teased him the entire day until Duang threatened to reveal his crush on Marvis via Qin.

Snippet 2:

Qin: 
Work sucked today. Convince me not to quit and run away to become a farmer.

Duang: 
I mean… I wouldn’t mind raising cows with you.

Qin: 
Why cows?

Duang: 
Because you’d be the cutest one there.

Qin: 
I’m blocking you.

Duang: 
You’d miss me too much.

And sometimes, when one of them was especially drained, the other would be there—offering comfort through words or simply quiet companionship. Whether it was a call, a silent walk in the park, or just gazing at the stars, they always found their way back to each other. And without hesitation, the other always gave them exactly what they needed. 

One such night when Duang was too tired from the stress and was gazing at the stars, his phone rang. 

Qin: 
“I heard a sigh. What’s wrong?”

Duang:
“Nothing, just… long day. You?”

Qin: 
“Same. If I have to hear another one say ‘synergy’ in a meeting, I might explode.”

Duang: 
chuckles “I swear corporate lingo is its own language.”

Qin: 
“Right? But enough about that. Tell me something good.”

Duang: 
pauses “Hm… You.”

Qin: 
soft laughter “That’s unfair.”

Duang: 
“Just stating facts.”

These moments became their new normal. Somewhere along the way, their bond deepened into something more. And just like that, a month passed as their budding romance quietly unfolded.  

Meanwhile, both of their parents—shocked but undeniably amused—watched their children’s sudden change whenever the other was around.

To give a sneak peek,

At Duang's:

Looking at their son’s crazy switch up, Duang’s parents had been relentless in their teasing. After all, he was the same person who had once been adamant—practically staging a protest—about not marrying or even talking to Qin because of his reputation.

A live example would be: 

One particular evening, Duang had planned a simple long drive with Qin, just to get some fresh air and unwind. But what was supposed to be a casual outing had somehow turned into a full-blown crisis in his room. He spent at least two hours agonizing over what to wear, which hairstyle would look effortlessly perfect, and what cologne would be subtly alluring yet not too obvious. 

Why? To impress his crush, duh.

When he finally descended the stairs, satisfied with his look and ready to head out, a loud, mocking voice rang through the living room.

“Omo, Teerak, are you seeing what I’m seeing?” Duang's mother gasped dramatically, nudging her husband.

“Yes, dear. I’m seeing exactly what you’re seeing,” Duang's father responded, his tone just as exaggerated. “Our son is excited to see his future partner.”

Duang halted mid-step, already regretting coming down through the main hallway.

“But wasn’t he the same person who swore on his life that he would never even consider marrying Qin?” Duang's mother raised an eyebrow at her husband, feigning curiosity.

Duang's father nodded in mock understanding. “Indeed, he was. But now… look at him. Seems like our son has been possessed.”

Duang's mother gasped. “Possessed?! That would explain so much!”

And then, as if on cue, both burst into laughter, completely amused by their son’s flustered expression.

Duang groaned, his jaw tightening as he glared at them. “Will you please cut me some slack?”

But his parents only laughed harder.

Letting out an exasperated sigh, Duang spun on his heel and stomped out of the house, grumbling under his breath while his parents continued cackling in the background.

At Charat’s:

On the other hand, Qin’s parents weren’t faring any better. They were utterly flabbergasted by their son’s behavior toward Duang. They had assumed Duang would receive the same sassy, bratty attitude.

But they were dead wrong.

A live example would be:

One particular evening during dinner perfectly captured this shocking revelation.

As usual, the Charat family’s meal was anything but peaceful. Qin had just successfully provoked his mother into a dramatic rant by offhandedly remarking, “Baba, did you know Mama and Mrs. Thepnakorn fight like alley cats over a piece of Wagyu at the market?” He smirked at his father while reaching for another bite.

Qin's mother gasped, scandalized. “Qin! That is not true! Mrs. Thepnakorn is the one who always starts the fight! I simply—”

“You simply fight back with the speed of a seasoned warrior,” Qin’s father interrupted with a chuckle.

Before Qin's mother could throw her chopsticks at either of them, Qin’s phone rang, cutting through the lively chaos. He glanced at the screen, and instantly, the teasing smirk on his face melted into something else entirely.

The caller ID flashed Duang.

Without hesitation, Qin grabbed a napkin, wiped his hands, and—much to everyone’s horror—his lips curled into the goofiest, most lovesick grin imaginable. Then, as if possessed, he sprang to his feet, picking up the call in the softest, sweetest tone anyone had ever heard from him.

“Duang~” he practically sang into the phone, already making his way toward the garden. “Did you have dinner yet? How was work today, hmm?”

And just like that, he was gone.

A thick, stunned silence fell over the dining table.

The Charat parents, the house staff were left frozen in place.

Then, Qin's father finally spoke, voice heavy with disbelief. “Darling…did—did he just skip his steps?”

Qin's mother blinked rapidly. “Honey, did he just smile like a lovesick fool?”

One of the maids, mouth still slightly open, muttered, “Did he just use a pet name?”

The butler, Marvis Lee, calmly exhaled. “Young master… has never spoken to any of us in that tone before.”

One of the younger workers clutched his chest. “I thought Young Master Qin hated being soft.”

Qin's mother, still reeling, turned to her husband. “Ehem. Honey. I’m scared.”

“Me too,” Qin's father admitted, rubbing his temples.

Marvis, ever the composed one, simply shook his head, a small smirk tugging at his lips. “Well, well. Seems like we finally found the one person who can tame our young master.”

The entire household remained in shocked silence.

From the garden, Qin’s distant giggles floated through the air.

Marvis sipped his tea once more. “Oh yes. Bestie is completely gone.”

Perhaps love really has the power to make you do things you'd never imagined yourself capable of.

But then again, no matter how many moments Duang and Qin shared—how many memories they created, inside jokes they laughed over, or times they cried, flirted, and found comfort in each other—there was still a distance between them.

It was subtle, almost invisible, but it was there.

A sliver of distance that Duang couldn’t erase.

The thoughts from that night still clung to him like a shadow, never fully disappearing. Maybe they hid beneath the surface, drowned out by Qin’s warmth, by his affection, by the way he looked at him as if he were the most precious thing in the world. But they never truly left.

Because there were questions. Questions that demanded answers.

And Duang wasn’t ready to face those answers.

He didn’t have the courage to ask. Because asking meant opening the door to something he might not be prepared to hear. What if everything crumbled the moment he voiced it aloud? What if this—they—was just an illusion, something fragile that would shatter if he dared to confront reality?

So, he kept his silence. At least for now.

On the other hand, Qin wasn’t oblivious. He could sense it sometimes—the way Duang’s mind drifted, the way a fleeting sadness would flicker in his eyes when he thought no one was looking.

But Qin also knew better than to ask. Because if Duang wasn’t ready to say it, no amount of coaxing could force it out of him.

Just like that—

Another month slipped by—both of them continuing forward, neither asking nor telling what weighed on their hearts the most.

But as the saying goes, if you bottle something up for too long, eventually, it will spill over.

And that moment came on an otherwise peaceful Sunday morning.

Duang and his family were gathered at the dining table, enjoying a comfortable breakfast. Duang's father and Duang's mother were casually discussing the latest political happenings while indulging in their pancakes, the clinking of utensils and the soft hum of conversation filling the space.

But then, there was Duang.

Letting out long, heavy sighs. Every five minutes.

Duang's mother, who had been looking at her son for a while now,, eventually set down her fork and turned to him with gentle concern. “Duang, what’s wrong, dear? I’ve been noticing for the past few days—you seem completely off.” She paused before carefully asking, “Everything is fine between you and Qin, right?”

Duang's father, who had also been silently watching his son, chimed in, “Yeah, son. Or is work stressing you out?”

Duang stiffened slightly at their words, his grip on his coffee cup tightening. If only it were just work.

Duang shook his head. “Nothing’s wrong between us, Mae. Work is fine, Pho.”

But even as he spoke, the weight pressing against his chest refused to lift. With a long exhale, he finally decided to lay his thoughts bare. “It’s about my thoughts regarding… Qin,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

His parents exchanged a glance before turning their full attention to him, offering a quiet nod of encouragement. They weren’t going to push—just patiently waiting for him to continue.

Duang swallowed, his fingers tracing absentmindedly over the rim of his coffee cup. “Qin is my Qin,” he murmured, as if saying it out loud would make it feel more real. “The one I used to talk about when I was a kid? The friend I always missed? Yeah… Qin is that Qin.” He sighed softly, the revelation still settling inside him, despite how long he had known.

His parents didn’t utter a word. They simply listened, their silence urging him to go on.

Taking another deep breath, Duang continued, his voice quieter now, almost hesitant.

“At first, when it hit me, I was overwhelmed—overjoyed, relieved, shocked, all at once. But then… those thoughts started creeping in. I couldn’t understand why he hadn’t told me yet. At first, I kept brushing it off, thinking he’d tell me when the time was right. But that moment never came. And slowly… I started to wonder if maybe he doesn’t trust me enough yet. Or worse—that I might still not be good enough for him.”

His parents remained silent, their gazes filled with understanding as Duang spoke.

“Of course, I know he must have his reasons,” he admitted, his hands on his lap now. 

He exhaled shakily.

“I know his feelings are genuine.” His lips curved into the faintest smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “But, the problem is me.”

Duang’s gaze dropped to the table, his fingers now clenched together. “These nagging thoughts… they’re building an invisible wall between us, and I can feel it pushing him away. I don’t want that to happen.” His voice wavered, and his eyes glistened with unshed tears.

“It hurts,” he whispered, “to think that he might still believe I’m not trustworthy enough to talk about it…”

His throat tightened.

“Back then, we were just kids—just best friends. Maybe that’s why it was easier to let go. But now… if I lose him this time, I won’t just be losing a best friend.” Duang looked up, blinking rapidly to keep his tears at bay. His next words came out softer, almost broken.

“I’ll be losing the reason behind my smiles, my comfort, my anchor… my everything.”

For a moment, the dining room was swallowed by silence, Duang’s words lingering in the air like an unspoken ache.

His parents exchanged a glance—understanding, pained, but patient.

Then, after a while, Duang's mother finally spoke. Her voice was soft, but her tone was unwavering. Yet, deep inside, her heart was breaking at the sight of her son’s misery.

“Duang, sweetie,” she called gently, “look at Mae.”

Duang hesitated before lifting his gaze, meeting his mother’s warm eyes.

She smiled at him—soft but knowing. “Do you remember when I told you that Qin is a good kid?”

Duang gave a small nod, his expression uncertain.

Duang's mother exhaled, her fingers wrapping around the warm ceramic of her coffee cup as she continued, “I wasn’t just saying that for the sake of saying it, you know.” Her lips curled into a distant smile, as if recalling something precious.

“Three months before your first date with him… I met him.” She paused, then corrected herself.

“More specifically, he sought me out.”

“That day, we didn’t just exchange pleasantries or share simple hi’s and hello’s,” Duang's mother said, her voice steady yet filled with emotion. “Instead, I sat him down and held a full-on interrogation session.”

Duang blinked. “Interrogation?” he echoed, slightly taken aback.

“Yes.” She nodded firmly. “I needed to test his sincerity, his honesty… and most importantly, I wanted to understand why he was so into you.”

Duang swallowed, anticipation coiling inside him.

“Do you know what he answered?” Duang's mother asked, tilting her head slightly.

Duang stayed silent, waiting—his heart pounding just a little harder in his chest.

Duang's mother’s lips parted, and with a knowing smile, she revealed, “He said, ‘You’re his everything.’”

Duang sucked in a sharp breath. His fingers curled slightly over his lap.

“Of course,” Duang's mother continued, her voice laced with amusement, “I didn’t believe him. Words can be thrown around too easily. So I asked him to elaborate.”

“The kid told me everything,” Duang's mother said, her voice soft yet filled with an unshakable warmth. “Every single thing. Every thought, every feeling he ever had about you.”

Duang’s breath hitched as she continued.

“He talked about how you two met, how special you made him feel, how every little moment with you shaped him into who he is today. He spoke about the joy of being by your side… and the pain of having to leave because of circumstances beyond his control.”

Duang clenched his fists in his lap. His vision was already starting to blur with unshed tears.

Duang's mother exhaled, her eyes glistening as she looked at her son. “Do you know what made me believe him?”

Duang didn’t respond. He couldn’t. His throat felt tight.

She talked, her voice gentler than before. “He told me this one thing.” She paused before reciting in a voice filled with emotion, 

“ ‘He taught me what love is. He gave me so much of it, and now, I just want to give him mine—to cherish him, to adore him, to take care of him the way he did for me. To stand by him in sickness and in health, in joy and in sorrow… and in everything else.’ ”

A sob broke past Duang’s lips. He tried to hold it in, but he couldn’t. Tears spilled freely down his cheeks.

“He said you painted the canvas of his life with beautiful strokes of love,” she whispered. “Before he even understood what love truly meant.”

Duang covered his face with his hands, overwhelmed. The weight of it all crashed into him like a tidal wave.

“I’m not saying this to cloud your judgment, sweetie.” Duang's mother’s voice was gentle, yet firm. “But just think about it for a moment. Imagine if he had told you that he was your Qin on the very day you both met again… tell me honestly, son, would you have believed him right away?”

Duang’s breath hitched. His eyes widened in shock.

He had never even considered that possibility.

His mind reeled. Would he have believed it? Could he have accepted it so easily? The doubts, the years apart, the rumors surrounding Qin—it all would have clouded his judgment back then. Would I have rejected him? The thought sent a chill down his spine.

Before he could dwell on it further, Duang's father spoke up, his voice calm but weighted with wisdom.

“I’m not saying whether what Qin did was right or wrong,” he began. “But sometimes, the things you want to say the most… are the hardest to speak aloud.” He let out a soft sigh. “Let’s assume you had believed him right away. That would’ve been wonderful. But if you hadn’t… can you imagine what that would’ve done to him?”

Duang’s lips trembled.

“It would’ve left a deep scar on him, sweetheart,” Duang's father continued, his voice filled with understanding. “Just like how it’s hurting you right now… it would’ve hurt him just as much, if not more.”

Before he could crumble under the emotions, both Duang's mother and Duang's father were there, rising from their seats and wrapping him in a warm embrace.

Duang's mother gently stroked his hair, whispering soothing words, while Duang's father patted comforting circles over his back.

Duang clung to them, sobbing into his mother’s shoulder.

Because now, for the first time, he truly understood.

“Aigoo, baby, you must like him a lot, eh?” Duang's father teased, though his voice was laced with warmth.

Duang, still hiccuping through his sobs, nodded vigorously. “I really like him a lot,” he admitted, his voice cracking under the weight of his emotions. “So much that it hurts.” He sniffled, gripping onto his mother’s sleeve. “Just in a span of weeks, he secured an irreplaceable place inside my heart… like he was already there from the very beginning.” His voice softened, barely above a whisper. “I can’t imagine staying away from him. I don’t want to.”

Duang's mother’s eyes shimmered with unshed tears as she reached out, cupping Duang’s cheeks. “Then why don’t you tell him, hmm?” she asked gently.

Duang blinked, confused. “Tell him…?”

“What I mean is…” Duang's mother trailed off.

Duang's father picked up where she left off. “What your mother is trying to say is—if he isn’t ready to tell you the truth, then why don’t you take the first step?” His lips curled into a knowing smile. “Now that you know everything… what’s stopping you?”

Duang froze.

His parents watched as the gears in his head turned rapidly. Then, suddenly, his tears stopped. He wiped his face hurriedly with his sleeves, and then—

A grin. A big, mischievous grin stretched across his face.

Duang's mother and Duang's father exchanged glances, amused but wary.

“Uh-oh,” Duang's father muttered. “I know that look.”

Duang bounced to his feet, a newfound energy crackling in his veins. An idea had plopped into his head, and he wasn’t going to waste a second.

“Oh, he’s doomed,” Duang's mother chuckled, shaking her head. “Our son’s got a plan.”

Meanwhile:

Qin sat in the garden, near the grand fountain centerpiece, his arms wrapped tightly around his knees. The water rippled gently, distorting his reflection, but it didn’t matter—he already knew what he would see. The sadness in his eyes, the silent weight of emotions pressing down on him.

Qin's mother stepped out, initially intending to call her son in for lunch, but she stopped in her tracks when she noticed the distant look on his face.

Her heart ached.

It had been so long since she had seen that expression on him—the same one he wore when they first left all those years ago. That empty, lost look that made him seem like he was searching for something… or someone.

A deep pang of guilt settled in her chest. If they hadn’t left back then… would he be happier now? Was it somehow their fault?

Swallowing the lump in her throat, she made her way toward him and gently sat beside him. She didn’t speak at first, just reached out and patted his shoulder in a comforting rhythm, the way she used to when he was a child.

Then, in the softest voice, she asked, “What happened, Qin?”

“Just some thoughts, Mama. Don’t worry,” Qin replies, his voice calm but lacking its usual warmth.

Qin's mother wasn’t convinced.

She reached out, cupping his face gently and turning it so he’s looking at her. “You do know I’m your mother, right? Lying won’t work on me.”

Qin sighed deeply, as if the weight on his chest was too heavy to carry alone. His gaze finally met hers, uncertainty flickering in his eyes.

“I feel like I’m being dishonest by not telling him that I’m his Qin, Mama…” he admits, voice barely above a whisper.

Qin's mother stays silent, letting him speak.

“At first, I was afraid,” he continued, his fingers gripping his own wrist anxiously. “Because of the rumors around me… I thought he would leave me before I even had the chance to explain.”

His eyes lower, shimmering with unshed tears.

“But now… I don’t know how to say it. I don’t know when to say it. I’m afraid that if he finds out, he’ll think I betrayed him. That I lied to him.”

Qin exhaled shakily, his voice trembling at the end. “What if I ruin everything, Mama?”

“I don’t think I can stay away from him for a second time, Mama…” Qin murmured, his voice laced with vulnerability.

Qin's mother’s heart ached at the sadness in her son’s eyes. She strokes gentle circles on his cheeks, her own gaze filled with regret. “I’m really sorry, sweetheart… Baba and Mama are sorry… If we hadn’t moved back then, maybe you would have been the happiest…”

But Qin immediately shook his head. “No, Mama. I don’t blame you and Baba for what happened. I understand it was necessary.” His fingers clenched against his knees, voice dropping into a whisper. “It’s just that I’m a coward…”

Qin's mother shook her head firmly. “Qinbao, you are anything but a coward,” she said, her voice unwavering. “If it weren’t for your dedication and hard work, our company wouldn’t be what it is today. If it weren’t for your determination and undying hope, we wouldn’t have come back here… and you wouldn’t have found your Duang again.”

At that, Qin’s breath caught. His mother’s words sink in, wrapping around his heart. His sniffling starts softly at first, but then he buries his face into her shoulder, hugging her tight.

Because she was right. He fought for this. He built his own fate. And only a few people got the chance to do that.

“It’s okay, dear. Let it out. Baba, Mama are all here for you, hm?”

Qin's mother simply holds him, rubbing gentle circles on his back, whispering reassurances. No matter what happens next, he will not be alone.

Just as the conversation settled into a comfortable lull, Qin’s phone buzzed in his pocket.

Glancing at the caller ID, his heart skipped a beat. Duang. He quickly picked up the call.

“Duang? What’s the matter?”

“Are you free this evening?” Duang’s voice came through, calm yet firm.

“Yeah… why?” Qin asked, slightly confused.

“Just be dressed and wait for me. I’ll pick you up at five.”

Before Qin could even ask anything else, the call ended.

He blinked at his phone, momentarily taken aback.

Qin's mother chuckled, watching the surprised expression on her son’s face. “Looks like someone has plans for you.”

Qin shook his head with a small smile, but a hint of curiosity lingered in his eyes. What are you up to, Duang?

Brushing off his thoughts for now, he stood up, and with his mother beside him, they made their way inside.

4:55 PM

Qin sat on the couch in the living area, his foot tapping lightly against the floor as he waited for Duang to arrive. His heart thrummed with anticipation, though he wasn’t quite sure why.

Right on cue, at exactly 5 PM, a car honked from outside.

His eyes lit up as he immediately sprang to his feet, quickly calling out to his mother, “Mama, I’m heading out! Duang’s here.”

Qin's mother barely had time to respond before her son was already slipping into his sneakers and making his way out the door.

As Qin stepped outside, his gaze immediately landed on the sleek black convertible Benz parked in the driveway. And there—leaning effortlessly against the car, arms crossed over his chest—stood Duang.

Dressed in casual wear, yet looking insanely handsome, he exuded an effortless charm that made Qin’s breath hitch for a second. The warm evening light only added to his allure, casting a soft glow on his features.

Qin swallowed, his heart skipping an extra beat before he finally approached.

As soon as Duang saw Qin approaching, he immediately straightened his posture, uncrossing his arms and offering a soft smile. Lifting a hand, he waved casually, but there was a certain warmth in his gaze that didn’t go unnoticed.

“Hey… you look amazing,” Duang said, his voice carrying a hint of admiration.

Qin chuckled, shaking his head slightly. “You don’t look bad yourself,” he quipped, though the slight pink dusting his ears betrayed just how much he meant it.

Duang let out a small chuckle of his own before gesturing toward the passenger seat. “Come on, let’s go.”

Without hesitation, Qin slipped into the car, securing his seatbelt as Duang did the same. The moment the engine hummed to life, Duang smoothly pulled out of the driveway and onto the road.

Curious, Qin glanced at him. “Where are we going?” he asked casually, though anticipation tingled in his chest.

Duang shot him a sideways glance, a playful yet determined smile tugging at his lips. “You’ll find out soon.”

Qin hummed in response, turning his gaze toward the cityscape outside. The world seemed peaceful—children laughing and playing in the park, parents engaged in lively gossip, young couples strolling hand in hand along the sidewalk. The golden hues of the evening sun cast a soft, warm glow, caressing his skin like a gentle touch.

Everything felt serene—until Duang took a right turn at the next signal.

Qin’s eyes immediately widened in shock. His breath hitched as he recognized the road. It led straight to their old school.

His heartbeat grew erratic, thudding wildly against his chest. Different thoughts—mostly negative—flooded his mind all at once. Why were they going there? What was Duang trying to do? Did he already know? Was this some sort of confrontation?

Just as he was about to voice his concern, the car came to a halt.

They were now in the backyard of the school.

Qin stared in disbelief. The school looked almost the same as he remembered—its infrastructure unchanged, save for a few new buildings and fresh paint. But it still held that familiar feeling, like a time capsule preserving all their memories within its walls.

“Here we are,” Duang announced, a soft smile playing on his lips as he turned to face Qin. “Let’s go.”

Qin simply nodded, though his mind was tangled in a web of thoughts.

As he stepped out of the car and stood beside Duang, he suddenly felt warmth envelop his hand. Duang had intertwined their fingers, holding on firmly yet gently.

“Today,” Duang said with a playful grin, “we’re going to enjoy like kids.”

Before Qin could even process what was happening, Duang tugged him forward, dragging him toward the old playground.

First stop—the slide.

It was comically small for them now, but that didn’t stop Duang from climbing up and sliding down with childlike enthusiasm. He even convinced Qin to do the same.

Next, they went to the see-saw.

Duang’s exaggerated, childish sounds filled the air as he went up and down, making funny expressions just to see if he could get a reaction out of Qin. But while Qin chuckled here and there, his mind was elsewhere.

The noises inside his head were getting louder, drowning out the present moment.

Finally, they sat on the swings. The same which they both used to play back then while waiting for their ride home.

Even though they were both tall now, their feet touching the ground, Duang still made an attempt to push his swing back and forth, as if refusing to let go of that youthful innocence.

Qin, however, found himself gripping and releasing the chains of his swing, fingers tightening and loosening as his thoughts spiraled.

Did he find out that I’m Qin?

Is he going to leave me?

Is this his parting gift for me?

Is this… the end of us?

However, Duang’s voice immediately pulled Qin back to reality.

“Qin, I have something to say to yo—”

Duang had stopped swinging, his eyes fixed on Qin with a quiet intensity, his voice laced with sincerity. But before he could finish his sentence, something in Qin snapped.

The storm inside him could no longer be contained.

“I’m sorry.”

The words tumbled out of his mouth before he could stop them. His vision blurred as tears pooled at the corners of his eyes, threatening to spill over.

Duang’s brows furrowed in confusion. “What?”

But the dam had already broken.

“I’m sorry,” Qin repeated, voice trembling. “I didn’t mean to hide it from you. I just… I just couldn’t bring myself to say it. I’m really sorry…”

Duang looked even more lost now. “Qin, what are you talking about?”

Qin squeezed his eyes shut, inhaling sharply before forcing himself to say the words that had been choking him for so long.

“I’m your Qin.”

His voice was barely above a whisper, but it felt like it shattered something between them.

He risked a glance at Duang before quickly lowering his gaze, hands gripping the metal chains of the swing so tightly that his knuckles turned white.

“I—I’m really sorry for not saying it sooner,” Qin choked out. His breath hitched, his entire body trembling under the weight of his own emotions. “I was afraid… afraid that if I told you, you’d leave me. I didn’t want to lose you again.”

His voice cracked on the last word, and then the tears began to fall freely, streaming down his face like a never-ending downpour.

“Please don’t leave me,” he pleaded, his sobs shaking his entire frame. “I wasn’t trying to deceive you, I swear—I just… I just didn’t have enough courage to say it out loud. With all those rumors, I was scared, Duang… so scared of losing you again…”

His chest heaved with every desperate breath he took, the pain in his heart unbearable. The fear, the guilt, the love—it was all crashing over him at once.

For the first time in a long time, Qin felt completely, utterly vulnerable.

“I’m sor—”

Before he could finish, a gentle touch silenced him.

Soft fingers pressed against his lips, halting the stream of apologies that had been tumbling out. Qin’s breath hitched as his teary eyes flickered upward, only to be met with Duang’s gaze—warm, tender, unwavering.

There was no anger. No disappointment. No cold distance.

Only love.

Duang rested his forehead against Qin’s, his breath fanning softly against his skin.

“Shhh,” he whispered. “Enough, kha. I heard you.”

His voice was gentle, soothing, like a lullaby meant to calm the storm inside Qin’s heart. He nuzzled their foreheads together, a small smile gracing his lips—so full of understanding, so full of love.

Qin, still sniffling, blinked in disbelief. “You’re… you’re not angry at me?” His voice cracked, fragile and hesitant. “You’re not going to…leave me?”

At that, Duang pulled back slightly, brows knitting together in pure confusion.

“Wha— What kind of absurd thing are you talking about, Qin?” He let out a baffled sigh before cupping Qin’s face, thumbs brushing away the tears that stained his cheeks.

“I could never be angry at you, Qin.” Duang’s voice was firm, unwavering in its sincerity.

“And leaving?” He let out a shaky breath, shaking his head as if the mere thought was unbearable. “Please… don’t ever think about that again.”

His voice held a quiet desperation, as if just saying the word breakup sent a cold, bone-deep shudder through him. His grip on Qin tightened, grounding them both.

Qin pouted slightly before looking at Duang again, his voice still soft and uncertain. “Then… why are we here?”

Duang smiled, tilting his head playfully. “To officially ask you to be my boyfriend.”

Silence.

Qin’s eyes grew impossibly wide, his tears forgotten in an instant. His breath hitched, and his heart—oh, his heart—stuttered so violently he thought it might stop altogether.

His crying ceased. His mind blanked.

Duang bit back a laugh at the sheer shock painted across Qin’s face. The way his lips parted slightly, the way his breath caught—it was too adorable.

Chuckling fondly, Duang squished Qin’s cheeks, relishing in the warmth beneath his palms. He nuzzled their noses together, voice dropping into a playful murmur.

“You’re so cute,” he whispered, grinning as Qin’s eyes remained locked onto him, still frozen.

Then, with a deep breath, Duang pulled back. His expression softened, his heart pounding just as wildly as Qin’s.

And then—he knelt.

On one knee.

Qin gasped audibly, his fingers twitching when Duang gently took both of his hands into his own.

Looking up at him with nothing but tenderness in his gaze, Duang spoke.

“I knew you were my Qin.”

Qin’s breath hitched again, his already wide eyes growing impossibly larger. His heart felt like it was about to burst.

Duang continued, his voice steady but laced with emotion. “Not from the beginning, but the realization hit me on the night when you took me out to watch fireworks. And suddenly, everything made sense.”

He exhaled deeply, his grip on Qin’s hands tightening slightly. “At first, I was confused. I couldn’t understand why you would keep it from me…”

Qin swallowed hard, his heart clenching at the rawness in Duang’s voice.

“I told myself you had your reasons, so I kept pushing that thought aside. But over time, it became too much. These thoughts—they wouldn’t leave me alone.” Duang let out a shaky breath, his lips pressing together as if trying to keep himself composed.

“They kept whispering that maybe… I wasn’t good enough for you. That one day, you’d walk away, leaving me behind.”

His voice wavered, and his eyes glistened with unshed tears.

Qin, without hesitation, shook his head furiously—so fast and so firm as if trying to physically reject the very idea. The thought itself was absurd. Impossible. Unthinkable.

Never. Never would he walk away.

Duang let out a soft, shaky breath, his eyes overflowing with deep emotion. “You don’t know how much you mean to me, Qin…” His voice trembled, raw and honest.

“My day begins and ends with thoughts of you. I’m so used to having you in my life—like the air I breathe or the water I drink. The way you look at me, like I’m the only one. The way you treat me, like I’m something precious. The way I see myself when I’m with you, the way everything just feels… right. Like nothing else matters as long as you’re by my side.”

His hands squeezed Qin’s as his voice grew softer, more tender. “The way the world feels more beautiful when you hold my hand… you have no idea, baby.”

A single tear slipped down Duang’s cheek, but he didn’t bother wiping it away. He smiled faintly, a nostalgic kind of warmth filling his expression. “Do you remember how you comforted me when I used to get bullied for being chubbier than the other kids? You always glared at them like you were ready to fight them off yourself.”

By now, the tears were falling freely, each drop carrying the weight of unspoken feelings.

Duang took a shaky breath, his grip tightening ever so slightly around Qin’s hands. 

“When you had to leave back then, I was really heartbroken, you know?” His eyes shimmered with unshed tears, his lips pressing into a thin line before he continued. “I thought I lost the only person who truly knew me. The only one who refused to stay away from me, who chose me every single time.”

Duang exhaled softly, his gaze locked onto Qin’s. “But now, you’re here again. Right by my side. And every single day, we grow closer, our bond deepens—stronger than before.” His voice dropped into something more tender, almost fragile.

“There’s no way without you, Qin…”

A tear slipped down his cheek, but he smiled through it. “There’s no way I can let you go for a second time.”

Taking a deep breath, Duang stretched out a hand towards Qin, his entire face lighting up with pure, unfiltered love.

“I love you, Qin.” His voice was steady, unwavering. “Will you please be my boyfriend?”

Overcome with pure, uncontainable joy, Qin’s tears spilled freely, his emotions surging beyond his control. His lips parted as if to respond, but no words came out. Instead, before he could even think, he launched himself into Duang’s arms, sending them both tumbling onto the ground.

Qin landed on top of Duang, his arms tightening around Duang’s neck in a fierce, desperate hold. “Idiot. Idiot. Duang is an idiot. I hate you so much!” he wailed, his voice trembling with emotion. Of course, there was no real anger behind his words—only the overwhelming flood of feelings he couldn’t quite contain.

Duang, still beneath him, let out a deep, hearty laugh, his chest shaking beneath Qin. “No, you love me too much to hate me, Qin.”

Qin let out a grumble before sinking his teeth gently into Duang’s neck in retaliation.

“Ack—! Okay, okay, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I won’t tease you!” Duang yelped, still laughing.

“Hmph,” Qin huffed, lifting his head to meet Duang’s gaze. His lips stretched into a wide, goofy grin, his eyes practically overflowing with love, adoration, and devotion for the man beneath him.

Duang mirrored his expression, warmth radiating from his entire being as he softly asked again, “So… will you be my boyfriend, Qin?”

With a joyful nod, Qin eagerly dipped his head, pressing soft, playful kisses to both of Duang’s cheeks, making the latter giggle at the sweet gesture.

“Wait, I have one more thing! Come with me!” Duang suddenly pulled away from Qin, standing on the ground and tugging Qin along, his excitement obvious. With their fingers still intertwined, they walked toward the car trunk, both of them grinning with wide, uncontainable smiles.

When they reached it, Duang gently let go of Qin’s hand to unlock the trunk. With a simple turn of the key, he stepped back, eyes twinkling with anticipation. “Open it yourself, khon dii,” he urged, his voice laced with excitement.

Qin’s cheeks flushed at the endearing pet name, his heart fluttering wildly. Swallowing the warmth rising in his chest, he slowly lifted the trunk.

The moment it cracked open, a burst of colorful balloons with hearts drawn all over it soared into the sky, carrying an air of pure joy with them. Just as Qin gasped at the sight, a board popped up, its message glowing in the soft evening light:

“Qin, Duang has something to say to you.”

Qin barely had time to process the words before he instinctively turned to his side, where Duang had been standing just moments ago. But Duang was no longer there.

Instead, he was down on one knee once again.

In his hands, a large bouquet of vibrant dahlias rested delicately, their colors reflecting the depth of Duang’s feelings. Nestled among the petals, a tiny board peeked out, carrying the words that made Qin’s breath hitch—

“Be Duang’s forever, Qin?”

Qin clasped his hands over his mouth, overwhelmed by the sheer whirlwind of emotions crashing over him. Today had been nothing short of a rollercoaster—one that started with fear and uncertainty but was now ending in pure, uncontainable happiness. His heart swelled so much it felt like it might burst.

Duang, still kneeling, gazed up at him with eyes full of devotion. His voice was soft yet steady as he spoke.

“This place… it’s where our journey first began. It’s also where we had to say goodbye, leaving behind memories that never really faded. And now…” Duang took a deep breath, his lips curling into a tender smile. “Now, I want this place to be the start of something new. Something just for us. A new beginning, filled only with moments of you and me.”

He reached out his other hand once again, eyes glimmering with hope.

“So, say… Are you in this with me, Qin?”

Qin didn’t hesitate—not even for a second. His head bobbed up and down furiously as he practically shouted, “Yes, yes, yes! A thousand times, yes! I love you so much, Duang! You have no idea how long I’ve waited just to see you again—just to hold you again, Du…”

The words had barely left his lips before Duang shot up to his feet, sweeping Qin into his arms in a deep, breath-stealing embrace. Placing the bouquet in the trunk, he pulled the other closer than ever.

Duang buried his face into Qin’s shoulder, his voice thick with emotion. “Now we’re here again,” he murmured. “Thank you for never giving up on me.”

They pulled away slightly, their foreheads still resting against each other as they breathed in the same air. Duang’s voice was barely above a whisper when he asked, “Can I kiss you?”

Qin’s heart fluttered, but his answer was immediate—a soft nod, barely perceptible, but more than enough.

Duang wasted no time, closing the distance between them as their lips met in the most delicate of touches. It was slow and unhurried, a kiss filled with emotions too deep for words—relief, longing, love, and promises of forever. Their lips moved in sync, capturing every ounce of what their hearts had been yearning to express.

And as if the universe itself had been waiting for this moment, the clouds above parted slightly, revealing a breathtaking rainbow stretching across the sky.

Duang chuckled against Qin’s lips before pulling back just enough to murmur, “You know… 

“Hmm?”

“I still haven’t forgotten that you once stood in front of the whole class and announced that you wanted to marry me one day.” He smirked, mischief dancing in his eyes. “You were so bold back then, you know?”

Qin’s face turned bright red in an instant. His mouth fell open in shock before he groaned in mortification.

“Meung! Duang!” he screeched, chasing Duang as Duang ran forward. Both of them erupted into laughter, their hearts lighter than ever.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

20 years ago

The classroom was bathed in the gentle glow of the afternoon sun. The faint rustling of pages turning and the occasional whisper filled the air as the second-grade students settled into their pairs, following Mrs. Tim’s instruction for reading hour. The scent of books and freshly sharpened pencils lingered, mingling with the warmth of the sunlit room.

Naturally, little Qin and little Duang sat together, as they always did. Their small wooden desk wobbled slightly whenever either of them leaned forward too much, but neither seemed to mind. Duang, always the more animated one, flipped open the storybook with eager hands, his bright eyes scanning the first page. Qin, on the other hand, furrowed his brows as he traced the Hangul letters with his finger, lips moving silently as he tried to piece the words together.

Thai was still a maze for him—sometimes an exciting adventure, sometimes an uphill battle. Some words were easy, their meaning clicking in his mind like a puzzle piece falling into place. But then there were others, longer and more complicated, twisting into unfamiliar sounds that made him hesitate.

Seeing his struggle, Duang huffed dramatically and puffed out his cheeks. “Aish, Qin, it’s easy! Look, look—” He sat up straighter and pointed at the illustration of two people on the page. “These two meet, and then, uh…” He scratched his head, thinking of a way to explain. “They, um, like each other. Like… really like each other.”

Qin tilted his head. “Like… friends?”

Duang shook his head furiously. “No, no! More than friends! Like—” He suddenly clasped his own hands together and wiggled his fingers as if they were stuck to each other. “They stay together forever! Like glue!”

Qin blinked. “Glue?”

Duang sighed, rolling his eyes dramatically. He pointed again at the picture, where the two characters were holding hands and smiling at each other. Then, in an attempt to demonstrate, he grabbed Qin’s hands in his own and squeezed tightly. “Like this! They never let go!”

Qin stared at their hands, then back at the book, his mind working through the explanation. He glanced up at Duang’s determined face, his friend’s dark eyes shining with conviction, and a small realization formed in his mind.

“So…” Qin said slowly, still trying to connect the dots, “Like this… “ he lifted their connected hands a little and then continued, “they’re married?”

Duang nodded vigorously. “Yes! They marry, then stay together forever!”

Qin absorbed this, his fingers still loosely entwined with Duang’s. His Thai was far from perfect, and Duang’s explanation—while enthusiastic—wasn’t exactly textbook material. But from what he understood, marrying meant choosing someone, holding their hand, and never letting go.

And with that, Qin came to one conclusion.

“Then…” He hesitated, looking down at their hands again before meeting Duang’s gaze. His voice was quiet but certain. “We married now?”

Duang’s mouth fell open. For a second, he just stared, as if his brain had stopped working. Then, suddenly, his face turned a bright shade of pink. He yanked his hands away so fast that their desk wobbled again, and he pointed an accusing finger at Qin.

“Y-You! That’s not—!” Duang spluttered, his voice rising in panic. “You don’t just—! Qin!”

Qin, meanwhile, simply blinked, tilting his head in confusion. “But you said, hold hands, don’t let go, means marry!”

“AISH!” Duang buried his face in his arms, groaning dramatically while the other students continued reading around them, oblivious to his turmoil. 

Qin, still not entirely sure what he had said wrong, merely shrugged. Thai was a confusing language, but one thing he had learned for sure today—

‘Marrying means we get to be with each other till the end.’

The words settled in Qin’s mind like a soft feather drifting to the ground. Till the end. He rolled the thought around, letting its meaning sink in fully. It sounded like a promise, one that lasted forever. 

His small fingers curled slightly over the wooden desk as he glanced at Duang—his Duang. The boy was scribbling something in his notebook, his brows furrowed in concentration, the tip of his tongue barely peeking out as he focused. A lock of dark hair fell over his forehead, and he absentmindedly blew it away before going back to writing.

Qin’s heart felt warm.

If he married Duang, they could always play together. Be together. No one could tell them anything. Because if they were married, then being together was the rule. Nobody could interrupt them.

He liked that idea.

The thought nestled itself deep in his mind, refusing to leave. Even as the day went on, moving from subject to subject, his focus drifted back to that one question: How do I marry my Duang?

The tick of the clock, the scratch of pencils against paper, even Mrs. Tim’s gentle yet firm voice explaining the next lesson—all of it faded into the background as Qin sat there, lost in thought. Duang, sitting beside him, was oblivious to the grand decision forming inside his best friend's head.

When the final class arrived—playing class—the entire room buzzed with excitement. Chairs scraped against the floor as students hurried to grab their gym clothes, chattering and giggling as they changed. The crisp white gym shirts and navy-blue shorts were slightly oversized on their small frames, hanging loosely over their arms and knees. Qin fumbled with the buttons on his collar before slipping into his uniform, still lost in his thoughts.

As the class made their way to the gymnasium, their sneakers squeaked against the polished wooden floors. The air was filled with the scent of rubber balls and the faint echo of laughter bouncing off the high walls. Sunlight streamed through the tall windows, creating bright patches of light on the ground where dust particles floating lazily in the air.

Qin wasn’t thinking about playing.

He had one mission now.

After the warm-up session, the sports instructor clapped his hands together and grinned at the class. “Alright, kids! You can play whatever you like!” With that, he strolled out of the gym, leaving behind an entire group of excited second-graders ready to unleash their energy.

The gymnasium instantly filled with noise—laughter, hurried footsteps, the occasional squeak of sneakers as kids ran across the polished wooden floor. Some grabbed jump ropes, others raced towards the basketballs stacked in the corner, and a few started an impromptu game of tag. The atmosphere buzzed with excitement, but Qin barely noticed any of it.

Instead, he wandered to a quieter corner near the climbing bars and plopped onto the floor, knees pulled up to his chest. His mind was still whirling with one thought. How do I marry Duang?

He replayed everything he remembered from the story they had read earlier. The main character had fallen in love, and what had he done? Qin frowned, staring at the wooden floorboards. Then suddenly, like a lightbulb flicking on inside his head, inspiration struck.

The protagonist had announced it! Loudly! In front of everyone!

Qin’s eyes widened in realization. That was it. That was what he had to do!

Excitement surged through his small body, and without wasting another second, he sprang to his feet. His heart pounded—not from nerves, but from sheer determination. He marched toward the center of the gym, weaving through his classmates until he reached the very middle of the room.

Standing tall, he placed his hands firmly on his hips, puffed out his chest, and took a deep, deep breath.

Then, at the top of his lungs, he shouted—

“EVERYONE!”

The gym fell into an abrupt silence.

Balls stopped bouncing. Ropes hung mid-air as kids paused in their jumping. Even the game of tag froze, children staring wide-eyed at Qin as they waited for whatever grand announcement he was about to make.

Standing in the middle of it all, Qin beamed brightly, his eyes scanning the room until they locked onto the person he was looking for. His Duang.

Still grinning, he called out, his voice filled with warmth—

“Duang!”

Across the gym, Duang—who had just taken a sip from his water bottle—lowered it, blinking in confusion. 

Qin inhaled again, ready to declare his important statement to the world. His small fists clenched with determination.

“Qin marry Duang! Let’s marry, okay?”

The words echoed through the gym, bouncing off the tall walls.

For a moment, absolute silence followed.

Duang, mid-sip, choked on his water. He coughed, sputtering as a few drops dribbled down his chin. 

The other kids, on the other hand, simply blinked at the declaration. A long, collective pause stretched through the room as they processed what Qin had just said. Then, as if nothing had happened, they all shrugged and went right back to playing—balls bouncing, feet running, laughter filling the air once more. Because they couldn’t understand anything that Qin had just said.

Qin, completely satisfied with his grand declaration, grinned from ear to ear as he dashed toward Duang. His small feet barely touched the ground as he ran, his excitement making his movements light and bouncy.

Duang, on the other hand, was frozen in place, his face now a deep shade of red—so red, in fact, that he resembled one of the ripe tomatoes from the school’s lunch trays. He had understood exactly what Qin meant, and it sent his brain into a complete frenzy.

Before he could fully process it, Qin had already skidded to a stop in front of him, eyes shining with pure joy. Duang took a step back instinctively, still trying to calm the heat rushing to his cheeks.

“Qin!” Duang stuttered, waving his hands in frantic disbelief. “You can’t just say the word ‘marry’ like that! That’s… that’s only for big people!”

His voice cracked slightly, making him sound even more flustered. He crossed his arms tightly, as if trying to shield himself from the sheer embarrassment of what just happened.

Qin’s smile wavered as he tilted his head, confusion flickering across his face. His lips pursed into a soft pout as he tried to understand why Duang was acting so strange.

“But Duang…” Qin murmured, fidgeting with his fingers. His voice was small but certain. “Marry means together. Want together with Duang.”

His big, round eyes blinked up at Duang, filled with nothing but pure sincerity.

Duang gulped.

He wanted to say something—anything—but when he saw Qin’s pouty expression, the fight drained out of him. How was he supposed to argue when Qin looked at him like that? He knew Qin was stubborn, but in this moment, he wasn’t being stubborn at all. He was just… honest.

Duang’s lips parted slightly before he sighed, rubbing the back of his head. After a moment of hesitation, he finally said, “Qin… then… let’s marry after we become big?”

Qin’s pout vanished in an instant. His entire face lit up as if Duang had just handed him the greatest treasure in the world. His hands shot up excitedly. “Okay, We marry when big. Promise?”

Without waiting for an answer, Qin stretched out his tiny pinky, his expression serious despite his bubbling excitement.

Duang blinked at the outstretched pinky before exhaling in defeat. A small, fond smile tugged at his lips as he slowly reached forward, intertwining his own pinky with Qin’s. Their fingers locked together, sealing the promise between them.

“Fine, fine. Duang and Qin will marry when they become big!” Duang declared, giving a firm nod.

Qin’s grin widened, and he bounced on his toes, holding onto Duang’s pinky like it was the most important promise in the world.

To him, it probably was.

And at that moment, standing there in the middle of the noisy gym, their hands still linked, Duang couldn’t help but think…

Maybe that wasn’t such a bad idea.

-THE END-