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Qin may not be the most socially inclined, or particularly skilled in navigating social situations, but if there’s one thing he can confidently claim about himself, it’s that he’s observant. He takes pride in his attentiveness, his sharp eye that helps him be alert of his surroundings. He knows how to read a room perfectly, even if he has no intention of participating in whatever unfolds in front of him, usually preferring to sit back and enjoy the chaos unfold.
Living with Duang, and loving him as deeply as he does, has only refined this quality of him further.
Duang is extremely smart and social and warm, with an uncanny ability to read the people he cares about so thoughtfully. But even so, there are moments when he’s simply not great at reading certain social cues.
For one, he’s unable to recognize when someone is flirting with him, which used to frustrate Qin to no end. Over time, though, Qin has adjusted and realized that he did not need Duang to notice, when he has the right to step in himself, inserting himself into those interactions and making it clear, unmistakable, that Duang is not available. He now knows Duang does not mind his possessiveness at all, and that it gets him going, thrilled in watching Qin claim him so openly.
(Qin has gotten some of their better fuckings after showing Duang his jealous side, so he doesn’t hide it anymore).
And, unfortunately, there’s something else Qin has noticed, something that has grown increasingly difficult to ignore even if Duang seems unaware of: the way Duang’s own family makes Duang feel.
Don’t get Qin wrong, he loves Duang’s family.
They welcomed him without a blink, offering him a warmth that his own home had lacked for most of his life, even if things there have gotten better and better thanks to Duang.
They include him in conversations without placing any pressure on him to speak if he doesn’t want to. Duang’s mother remembers his favorite desserts and prepares them fail whenever they visit. His father makes a consistent effort to ask thoughtful, light-hearted questions about his interests and small details, such as his hobbies, or favorite season, to make sure Qin feels included. Him and Funan have no issue in including him in that banter that characterizes the whole family dynamic, teasing each other to make the others laugh; easy familiarity.
However, Qin cannot ignore the moments when that teasing shifts and becomes sharper, too much. He notices how it affects Duang, when it lingers a little too long in his expression, even when Duang himself never acknowledges it.
At first, he had noticed small, almost imperceptible changes. Duang would suddenly get quiet, his confidence flattening in ways that feel out of place. Something he had been proud of moments earlier, whether it is a landscape assignment or his ability to do something, becomes a source of doubt.
When it happens, it’s subtle: his mood shifts, and while he still sulks, it is not the exaggerated, dramatic pout, the playful version Qin has grown used to, to get a reaction out of him.
This is different. It’s quieter, heavier, and marked by a genuine insecurity that traces back to his home, and that lingers in everything Duang does.
It took Qin some time to pinpoint what was the common pattern, but once he saw it, he can’t unsee it. Duang gets like this after an interaction with his family, especially with his brother.
Qin knows that, as an only child, there are aspects of sibling relationships that he may never fully understand. He knows that most siblings have an special bond that balances teasing and affection, he sees Duang give almost as much as he receives.
But there are times he thinks Funan, and sometimes even their father, cross the line between teasing and putting Duang down with mean criticism.
He remembers the way Duang reacted after sharing a video of their dance practice in the family chat, only to have Funan comment on how bad Duang had been doing. Qin had seen the effort Duang put into it, the way he’d dedicated so much time just for Qin even if he didn’t care for dancing at all, and the way that single comment had affected him; completely changing his demeanor.
But somehow, and this is what unsettles Qin the most about this, Duang seems to either miss or ignore this.
He doesn’t show resentment, or seriously complain, or confront the situation, never telling his family that they’re going a bit too far.
It gets to the point that Qin has began to suspect that Duang’s deeper insecurities, that persistent feeling of being simultaneously too much and not enough, are rooted in this dynamic with his family.
Because of Duang’s lack of reaction, Qin makes a conscious effort to stay out of it, being significantly more difficult to do so that it normality would for Qin.
He convinces himself that if Duang truly wanted things to change, if it was a real issue, he would acknowledge the problem, even if it was just to Qin in private to bent about it like he does with everything else.
Still, there are moments that make Qin question his reasoning, when he remembers how Duang handles his own vulnerability.
Because Duang may be all for communication, and talking about feelings, except when it comes to himself and his own negative thoughts. When Duang though he was losing Qin to Tiw, for instance, he didn’t argue or demand reassurance, he never asked a question until Qin pushed for the conversation to happen. Instead, he withdrew, creating distance and giving Qin a space he hadn’t wanted, as though he believed he had no right to fight for himself; as if he wasn’t involved already.
It’s this contradiction that unsettles Qin the most.
For someone who brings light into every room he enters, expressing his emotions openly, Duang retreats in a way that feels almost instinctive when his ‘darker’ thoughts appear. Watching him slip into those quiet yet so full spirals is something Qin’s still learning how to handle, because it scares him. He’ll be damned if Duang stays sad about something because of his lack of perception.
Maybe that’s why Qin snaps in the most random moment possible.
They’re leaving for the weekend, having planned a short beach trip with their friends to celebrate the end of their partial exams and projects, which somehow aligned for the first time. Even Marvis’ internship’s schedule has matched their own, and they have three full days to rest on the beach, all together.
Since they can’t bring Khonfoo with them, they’ve asked Duang’s family to look after her while they’re away. She prefers them over Qin’s family, they both can sense it, and Qin can’t blame his daughter for having a favorite grandparent, the way Duang’s mom spoils her.
When they arrive, Funan informs them that their parents are running an errand and lets them in. They unpack her things into her established corner in the living room, placing her bed next to her food and water bowls and her favorite toys, while going over the details of her routine with Funan.
“She usually goes for her night walk around nine, but it doesn’t need to be too long,” Qin adds, watching Funan listen to them with his full attention. “She gets tired easily.”
Duang sets the last item down and glances over with an easy smile, clearly super excited for their little vacation.
“She takes after her dad,” he says casually. When Qin raises an eyebrow in silent question, already dreading what’ll come next, Duang explains, “Cute, but lazy.”
Qin rolls his eyes, though his smile probably betrays him immediately, which would be something insane a few months ago, but has now become the norm.
Funan reacts with an exaggerated gag, the typical response that feels obligatory when watching your younger brother flirt.
No long after, Duang drops down to the floor beside their daughter, his attention fully on Khonfoo. The thought of being apart form her for two nights is clearly weighing on him now, even if he tries to hide it for Qin’s sake. But he feels it too, though he keeps it more contained than his partner, heartbroken at the idea of his little girl not being with them.
“Be good to your grandparents,” Duang murmurs, his voice softening into that familiar tone he has only for her and Qin, “And don’t let your uncle give you any rebellious ideas and turn you into a bad girl like him.”
Khonfoo responds immediately, pressing closer in her excitement and affection for her father, climbing over him and licking all over Duang’s face. Being the smart girl she is, she’s probably recognized that she’s staying away from her dads for a bit.
It is in the middle of this heartwarming moment, Qin getting his phone to take a picture, when Funan decides to say:
“I still can’t believe you have a dog,” he says, his tone edged with something bordering a sneer, his arms crossed as he watches Duang and Khonfoo on the floor, “How are you supposed to take care of her when you can’t even take care of yourself?”
Qin turns to Duang instantly. He looks just in time to notice the subtle change in his expression, the slight tension in his shoulders that wasn’t there a second before.
So, naturally, Qin snaps.
“Duang’s perfectly capable of taking care of us.”
The words leave Qin’s mouth before he has time to reconsider them, to really realize that it’s his brother-in-law he’s talking to.
His tone is sharper than intended, too, harsher than it has been in a long time (with the exception of when he reacts to the stray boys and girls that try their luck and flirt with Duang), carrying an edge that feels out of place even for him. It’s the version of himself he has worked to leave behind, full of the coldness that used to characterize Qin a year ago.
Both brothers turn toward him, completely shocked, blinking at Qin without saying a word.
The silence that follows stretches for way too long, which makes Qin become aware of what he’s done, heat rising to his face and embarrassment settling into his bones.
Duang’s the first to recover, clearing his throat and standing up. He brushes the moment aside with fake ease.
“Haha, Funan’s just jealous of our perfect family when he can’t even land a date,” he says with a light chuckle.
Funan chuckles in answer, even if he still seems off at Qin’s comment. He chooses to not address Qin’s outburst, which Qin’s grateful for.
Later, in the car, the shift becomes more noticeable. Duang’s quieter than usual, watching Qin and waiting for him to justify his reaction, an unspoken question. But, as always, he’s waiting patiently for an explanation without pushing.
Qin knows that moments before a group trip is not the right time to talk about this. So, he directs the conversation, casually asking Duang if he thinks Marvis and Jamie will have made their relationship official yet, and Duang, even if he’s clearly aware of the deflection, lets it go.
For now.
Qin doesn’t bring it up during the trip, or the night after. He lets it sit, turning it over quietly in the back of his mind but letting Duang enjoy their little escapade. Until the second night they’re home again.
They’ve stayed up late, Qin playing around a production memo of a song, while Duang sits next to him drawing in his sketchbook, Khonfoo asleep at their feet.
Now, with their teeth brushed and Khonfoo tucked into her bed in the living room, they settle beneath the covers comfortably, their room only lit by the bedside lamps, as Qin doesn’t like sleeping in complete darkness. Duang drapes himself over Qin like always, without hesitation, one arm tucked beneath Qin’s neck, the other slung across his torso, planning on cuddling close and falling asleep, seemingly unaware of Qin’s internal debate.
Qin lies still for a moment.
There’s something about these moments of their routine that always gets to Qin, even now. The quiet warmth, the softness of being wanted forever, the way he knows he’ll get this tomorrow night, and the night after. He still can’t believe he gets to have this, forever, with the kinder, best person to ever exist as he boyfriend.
The thought of that, Duang deserving everything good, lingers.
It makes Qin exhale and make a decision.
“Duang,” he says in almost a whisper.
Duang hums in response, pressing his cheek closer against Qin’s.
“You know how you always tell me you notice everything about me?”
That ears his attention. Duang shifts just enough to meet Qin’s eyes, a small crease forming between his beautiful brows. “Yeah, of course.”
“And how I’ve told you that sometimes I feel you notice things about me, that even when I don’t?”
Duang gives him a quiet nod, curiosity in his gaze.
Qin moves to also slide an arm over his boyfriend before he really makes his point.
“Well, I notice things too, you know.”
“Okay,” Duang answers, clearly intrigued but not quite following. “Notice what?”
“I didn’t mean to snap like that,” Qin answers instead, “at your brother.”
Duang’s face lights in understanding, getting where Qin’s going. He shrugs and smiles reassuringly.
“It’s fine. Funan won’t even remember it, he didn’t care.”
“I do.”
That makes him pause.
“What?”
“I care,” Qin says, holding his gaze steadily. “He shouldn’t have said that.”
Duang’s expression softens, like it always does when Qin shows he cares about him, even after months and months of dating.
“It was just a joke,” Duang replies lightly, brushing it off as always. “He always says that kinda stuff.”
“I know.” Qin mutters, “I hate it.”
Duang blinks at him, now truly shocked. Qin’s never said anything remotely negative about his family.
“It’s really not a big deal, Qin." His hand drifts along Qin’ back in a soothing motion. "It’s the way we talk to each other. It’s always been like this.”
But there’s something weird beneath his gaze; something tight threatening to come out.
So Qin pushes.
“That doesn’t make it okay.” He reaches out, his fingers brushing against Duang’s skin comfortingly until they find his hand, lacing their fingers together to ground himself as much as Duang. Qin’s never been good at this kind of thing, so he hopes he isn’t messing this up too badly. “I saw your face.”
Duang hesitates, then, which gives Qin courage to continue, firmer now.
“It changed, right after he said it. You got all tense.”
Duang looks away at the words. The silence stretches longer this time as Qin watches Duang find the words.
His fingers shift and move in Qin’s grip, but he doesn’t pull away.
“I think you’re overthinking it, Ter.” He says at last, his voice not sounding convinced at all.
Qin shakes his head undeterred.
“I’m not.” His thumb presses lightly against Duang’s knuckles. “I’ve seen it before.”
“Seen what?”
“The way you react every time he says something mean and it gets to you.”
Duang’s smile is gone, by now, but his expression falters even more at the words. He looks vulnerable and reluctant, a look Qin doesn’t see often.
“Qin–”
“It’s true,” Qin interrupts, not letting Duang find another excuse. “You shrink. You get quieter, and not like your usual sulking,” Qin swallows, his voice getting higher. “It’s different.”
Duang’s gaze drops to their joined hands, and doesn’t say anything for a long moment.
Then, finally, he concedes a little,
“They don’t mean it like that.”
Qin nods immediately.
“I know,” He agrees, because he doesn’t believe any member of that family is capable of true malice.
“They love me a lot.” Duang tells him.
“I know,” Qin repeats.
Duang lets out a small, almost relieved breath at that.
“Then it’s fine,” he says as he moves closer to Qin, almost as if closing off the conversation.
Qin tightens his grip and pushes Duang back a little, not dropping it.
“It’s not, Duang.”
Duang huffs, and if he didn’t know Duang’s incapable of it, he’d guess Duang’s getting annoyed at him.
He finally pulls his hand free from Qin’s, not abruptly but firmly, and turns to lay on his back, staring at the ceiling as Qin stares at him, still on his side.
“I don’t mind it,” he insists, though his voice is sounding less and less certain with every word. “That’s just how we are, we all tease each other all the time.”
Qin studies him carefully.
“I know you like to be like that with everyone.” he says, unsure of whether to reach for him and cuddle Duang for comfort or not. “But I’ve seen you take shit from Jamie and Pae, and you never react like that. Like with your family.” He explains, and drops his last resource, “Do you like it?”
He watches Duang open and close his mouth three times before he answers.
“It’s our normal, it’s always been like this.”
Qin props his head on his hand, giving him space but not relenting.
“That’s not what I asked.”
More silence. Even more tense now. Duang’s chest is rising and falling along his big breaths.
“You’re being really intense about this,” Duang tells him, and it’s probably the meanest thing he’s ever said to Qin.
In any other situation, he’d tell Duang off, and recoil to himself, because Duang’s never like this. But Qin knows him, and knows he’s just deflecting because Qin’s right. So, instead of turning his back to him and going to sleep, like he would have before, he says:
“Because you’re not.”
That seems to land, Duang glancing at him with something fragile flickering in his eyes.
“I’m sorry,” he tells Qin instantly, realizing his tone. Duang incorporates himself, sitting against the headboard, seemingly accepting Qin’s not going to let this topic go.
Qin follows after him and rearranges them until he’s sitting between Duang’s legs, back resting against his chest. This is the position they’re most comfortable, Duang’s arms moving around him automatically, Qin’s head resting on his shoulder.
“They’re my family, Qin.” Duang breaks the silence as they both watch their joined hands in Qin’s lap. “I can’t just, what? Tell them to stop joking?”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s not that serious.” Duang insists, “Funan’ll just laugh at me and say I’m too sensitive.”
“That’s exactly my point. You feel like he’ll just make fun of you.”
Duang breathes out, slower this time, and repeats “It’s not a big deal, Ter.”
“Then answer my question,” Qin argues, “Do you like it?”
“I…” He falters. “It depends.”
Qin waits and waits, but Duang doesn’t elaborate, “On what?”
“Sometimes it’s fine,” Duang continues carefully, “It’s just… normal teasing, like with Jamie and Pae, or like with mom.”
“And the other times?” He turns his head to watch Duang’s profile just in time to see Duang’s lip press together.
“It’s just… Funan… pushes a bit, sometimes.”
“How?” Qin coaches, and then waits.
He’s learning from Duang, who always waits patiently for a difficult answer. To never rush the other, to let him get there on his own.
“…He’s just better at most things,” Duang finally admits, voice barely above a breath. “Like, at a lot of things. It’s not surprising. I’m not good at most things.”
Qin’s chest tightens, but doesn’t dare interrupt now.
“I know I’m only good at drawing, and Funan’s good at most things.” Duang shrugs. “He’s always been more put together, more like my dad. They’ve always gotten along better.”
“And how do you feel about that?”
Duang’s shoulders are tense against Qin.
“I’m just… different, I guess.” He murmurs. “I’ve always been closer to my mom. She’s… softer, you know.”
Qin knows, but that’s exactly what his point is.
“Yeah, she’s the best.” Qin tells him, because it’s true. It makes Duang smile. “But she’s also a tease. She’s always telling all of you off.”
“It’s different.” Duang says.
“How?”
Duang only shrugs, again.
“And your dad?”
Duang hesitates.
“He’s not hard on me,” he says, and then makes a conflicted face. “Actually, sometimes I wish he was, which makes no sense.”
“It makes perfect sense.” Qin tells him.
It seems to give Duang the courage to say,
“It’s like… It’s like my dad and Funan don’t think I’m capable of anything. Like I’m a baby.” He says it all together in a quick breath, “I know I’m not excellent on most things, but they treat me like I won’t know how to put away laundry, or not be manipulated by seniors, or find a stable job.”
“And we know that’s not true.” Qin tells him, rubbing his arm.
“It’s fine. I’m used to it.” Duang changes his demeanor again, back to downplaying it the moment he sees Qin’s worried face.
“I don’t like that you’re used to it.” Qin tells him. “You shouldn’t be.”
“It’s just the way they are.”
“And the way they are makes you feel like you’re not enough.”
Duang goes completely still at that. And Qin knows he’s hit the nail in the head.
“Because you are. You’re so much more than enough.” Qin adds softly, tightening his grip in Duang’s hand. “You’re the best.”
He watches Duang’s gaze drop again, his fingers fidgeting with Qin’s.
“I know they don’t mean to do that,” he says after a while. “Funan is a great brother, and my dad… they just say things without thinking.”
Qin nods.
“Exactly.”
“What?”
“They don’t mean to,” Qin repeats. “But they still do it. And it still hurts you.” He reaches out to hold Duang’s chin until their eyes meet. “You don’t even notice half the time, or just… ignore it,” Qin continues, softer, “But I see it.”
Duang swallows.
“I’m fine–”
“You don’t have to be fine about this, even if you know they love you.”
That finally breaks Duang. His expression falls, and then he’s crying, hugging into Qin tightly as he sobs.
Qin hates it. Hates feeling Duang’s wet tears. Hates knowing his sunshine is in pain.
But he knows the pain was there, so he’s glad Duang’s finally externalizing it.
“… I just don’t want it to be a big deal,” Duang admits between sobs. “I love my family, they’re the best. It feels so… wrong to complain.” He says, and then, even lower, “Specifically with…”
He doesn’t finish, and Qin doesn’t need him to. With your family, he was probably going to say.
“Duang,” Qin says sternly, “The fact that my parents neglected me does not make your brother hurting you any less real.” Because of course Duang would think like this. “And it’s not complaining, to talk about these issues. You’ve taught me that, to talk to my family more.”
Even if his parents are still not perfect, and Qin can’t still fully forgive the years of silence; now Qin can go to his family house without feeling unloved; getting a warm hug from his parents and knowing they care.
All thanks to Duang insisting on the matter, so Qin’s going to do the same.
Duang raises his head from it’s place against Qin’s shoulder, loosing his tight grip around Qin. “It feels like it.”
“It’s not.” Qin raises his hand to brush his thumb over the other’s cheeks, wiping away his tears. “It’s telling the people you love when they’re hurting you.”
Duang’s breath stutters.
“I…” He’s still unsure.
“They would want to know, that they’re hurting you,” Qin adds.
Duang thinks about it for a moment, then says “…I know.”
They settle in another long silence, but it’s different now. It’s heavier but also clearer, like Duang finally expressing his hurt out loud is both liberating and oppressing.
Duang leans into Qin’s touch, his eyes slipping closed for a long moment.
“… I feel stupid.” He murmurs.
Qin frowns.
“Why?”
“Because it’s such a small thing.”
“It’s not small if it stays with you.”
Duang breathes shakily.
“I just… I feel like I’m always doing something wrong. Like I could be doing better, you know?”
Qin lets him go on, but his chest aches.
“And I’ll get home and my dad with complain about how little exercise I do, or Funan will say that my last project is not good and I’ll just… I’ll think they have a point.”
“But they’re wrong,” Qin tells him, “They’re so wrong.”
He turns around and pulls Duang into him, their torsos pressed together and Qin’s legs on top of Duang’s thighs, framing his hips, sitting in the space between Duang’s.
“As someone who’s subjected to your stamina every day, I know you exercise enough.” He says teasingly to make Duang laugh. He succeeds. “And the comments on your art are shitty, when I know Funan can’t draw a dog to save his life.”
Duang smiles and hugs him tighter.
“I know it’s not logical,” Duang mumbles against his shoulder. “I just… It feels like they’re right, anyway. Even when I know they don’t really mean it.”
“Feelings don’t have to be logical to be real.”
Duang goes quiet again, his hands tight against the fabric of Qin’s pajama shirt.
“…You really think I should say something?”
Qin nods against Duang’s neck.
“I think you deserve to enjoy being with your family without feeling you’re not enough.”
Duang huffs a small breath.
“They’re going to think I’m too dramatic.”
“Then let them,” Qin tells him, “At least they’ll know how they’re making you feel.” And then he adds, “And you are too dramatic.”
“Qiiiin!”
“I’m not saying it’s a bad thing.” Because he loves his whiny, easy-to-read boyfriend “It’s part of who you are.”
When they pull back after a while, something soft, almost shy is settled across Duang’s face.
“It’s not fair for you to be so good at this,” he mutters.
Qin feels himself smile from ear to ear. “And who taught me?”
Duang looks proud, now. “Forgive me for wanting you to never deal with anything alone.”
Qin moves to cup Duang’s face with both his hands, “The feeling is mutual.”
Duang leans into the touch for a while, and then steals a quick peck.
“…Thank you, Ter.” He says lovingly, “For always noticing.”
Qin leans forward, rubbing their noses together.
“I’ll always notice.”
Duang smiles, small but so bright. “I’ll always notice, too, you know.”
“I know.”
They end up cuddling again, in the original position Duang had planned, spooning Qin close to his chest. Qin snuggles into Duang’s arms, warm and comfortable.
“…I’ll talk to Funan,” Duang murmurs after a while, Qin already half-sleep.
Qin feels a kiss pressed into his hair.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah,” He feels the words against the back of his neck. “Not in a big way just… I’ll mention it, casually.”
Qin doubts anything Duang does can be deemed ‘casual’, but that’s another point. “That’s fine.” He tells him. “I can be there with you, if you want.”
“Okay” Duang agrees instantly, “And if he makes fun of me for it, I’ll blame you.”
Qin snorts “Will you?”
“Of course not” He tightens his hold, “I love you.”
Qin laughs quietly, listening to the steady rhythm of Duang’s breathing.
Oh how he adores this ridiculous boy.
“I love you, too.”
And they fall asleep like that.