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The cozy little home that Barth and Tanrak shared smelled of freshly brewed coffee and the glue sticks that Tanrak had bought in bulk.
Barth spent his days surrounded by disassembled screens and hard drives, making a living by bringing computers back to life. Tanrak, for his part, had found his own calling in the neighborhood, teaching how to read and write to the children who had no access to a formal education.
The parents of those children gave him fruits, vegetables, milk, cuts of meat, among other groceries, and at first, they apologized for not having cash to offer him. But for them, that exchange turned out to be a blessing. Barth brought in the income from his technical work and Tanrak contributed the inheritance that his parents had left him, so the bartering with the neighbors was not a lack, but a relief that filled their pantry with homemade and fresh products every week.
That afternoon, Tanrak was completely focused on the floor, on the rug, in front of the small living room table. He kept his back straight and his tongue subtly pressed between his lips. He was surrounded by papers, shiny stickers, and colored pencils. He carefully cut out letter by letter, wanting everything to be perfect for his students.
Barth, who sat next to him after having taken a bath, stared at him. He wanted him to give him cuddles after coming home from work, but his boyfriend was too focused, ignoring him.
Barth crawled closer to him, deliberately bumping into him. Tanrak didn’t even blink.
Barth frowned. He reached out his hand and slid away the green pencil that Tanrak was about to use.
Tanrak reached out blindly to grab the pencil, touched the empty wood of the table, sighed, and simply picked up a blue pencil and colored another letter before cutting it.
Barth was insulted by the lack of attention. He leaned over Tanrak’s shoulder and reached in to take the scissors before he could make the next cut.
“You’ve already worked a lot, Rak.” Barth complained, drawing out his words in a spoiled tone. “The children won’t learn any less if the letters aren’t perfectly cut and colored.”
“Barth, please, stop. If I don’t finish this, tomorrow will be chaos.” Tanrak complained, trying to catch the scissors.
Barth took advantage of the closeness to press his lips against Tanrak’s cheek, leaving a soft kiss.
“Mmm, how about you pay attention to me instead?” He whispered with a smile, sure that his tactics always worked.
But this time, he miscalculated.
Tanrak let out a deep exhale, his eyes narrowing into the sternest look his sweet face could project.
“Bartholomew.” He spoke with a firm voice, using that full name that resonated like a judicial sentence. “Stop distracting me.”
Barth froze, scissors still in one hand and the green pencil in the other. The use of «Bartholomew» meant that Tanrak’s patience had run out and that the punishment —which usually involved the torture of not receiving a single kiss before sleeping— was completely serious.
“Yes, sir.” Barth surrendered immediately.
With comical speed, he hurried to drop the scissors onto Tanrak’s hand, then began to align the other colors along with the green color he had taken from him.
Tanrak watched him for a moment in silence, maintaining a strict teacher facade. But the truth was that the sight of Barth —with his hair still a bit damp from the bath, his lips pouted in defeat, and trying to align the colors— made all his anger evaporate instantly.
Tanrak let out a soft chuckle.
Barth looked up, his dark eyes shining again upon seeing that the danger had passed.
Tanrak shook his head, and with a smile laid the scissors aside. He leaned forward to close the distance between their faces and softly planted a prolonged kiss right on his lips, savoring the warmth of his mouth.
Barth sighed against his lips, wanting to deepen the kiss, but Tanrak pulled away.
“If you really want cuddles, you’re going to have to earn them.” Tanrak whispered, his eyes shining with amusement. “Cut out the remaining letters and paste the stickers on those sheets, that way we’ll finish twice as fast. And when the table is clean, I’ll give you all the kisses you want, remember?”
Barth didn’t need to be told twice.
“Give me the glue.” Barth requested immediately.
For the next hour and a half, the small living room table became a chaotic but happy workshop. Barth, whose large, skillful hands were used to untangling wires and dismantling computer boards, applied that same concentration to paste shiny stars exactly where his boyfriend asked him to. Tanrak looked at him sideways, feeling his chest grow warm; because no matter how tired Barth was, he always helped him with his teaching materials.
“Done, teacher.” Barth said, tossing the scissors into the materials box and then stretching his arms with a smile. “Now fulfill your promise.”
Tanrak observed the result of the work and couldn’t help but smile with pride. The letters that Barth cut were excellent and the stickers he had pasted were perfectly aligned.
“Very well, Bartholomew.” Tanrak said, drawing out the syllables of the name in a deliberately soft tone, knowing the effect it caused on him. “An impeccable job. You have earned an excellent grade.”
With a swift and agile movement, Barth wrapped his arms around Tanrak’s waist and pulled him onto his lap.
“I don’t want grades, angel. I want my reward.” Barth demanded.
Tanrak let out a chuckle, wrapped his arms around Barth’s neck, and leaned in to fulfill his promise.
The kiss started slow, a warm movement that tasted of the coffee Tanrak was drinking. But Barth, being the impatient boy he was, didn’t take long to take control of the rhythm. One of his hands went toward his boyfriend’s lower back and pressed him, forcing him to stick completely to his chest, while his tongue asked —demanded— to enter.
Tanrak parted his lips, allowing their tongues to meet in a rhythm they already knew by heart, but that never failed to make them lose their breath.
“Do you want coffee, my love?” Tanrak murmured against his boyfriend’s lips when they pulled away.
“Mmm.” Barth nodded.
. . ݁ ˖ 🧺 ٬٬ ࣪ ، 🧸 ، ࣪ ⊹ ֶָ
Tanrak crossed the threshold of the door dragging his feet, shoulders tense and the weight of an exhausting day upon him. That day, the children had been especially restless, full of energy, and although he loved them, the constant repetition of the multiplication tables and the attempts to maintain order had left him with a headache.
The only thing he wanted at that moment was a minute of peace. He left his bag on the bed and, almost by instinct, headed toward the small wooden desk in the corner to look for his rosary, because the cold, smooth touch of the wooden beads between his fingers had become a physical mechanism to breathe deeply and clear his mind.
He touched the surface of the desk. Nothing. He passed his hand between the notebooks and pencils. Empty. He searched the drawers. No trace.
“It was here this morning…” He murmured to himself, frowning.
He looked away from the desk and his eyes landed on the bed. Barth was there, lying down. He held a magazine, pretending to be highly focused on his reading, but the rigidity of his shoulders and the fact that he was holding back a smile gave him away.
Tanrak exhaled a sigh, the exhaustion quickly transforming into an adorable irritation.
“Barth? Have you seen my rosary?” He asked, stepping closer. “It was here.”
Barth didn’t even look at him.
“I have no idea, honey. Maybe your angel friends took it since you’re careless.” He responded with that innocent tone he used when he had clearly done something.
Tanrak narrowed his eyes, sharpening his vision. That was when he noticed it: beneath the fabric of Barth’s black shirt, a strange lump stuck out.
He took another step to stand right next to the bed.
“Bartholomew.” He pronounced the word firmly, like a warning. “Give it back to me right now.”
Upon hearing his full name, Barth set the magazine aside. His dark eyes shone with amusement and a hint of that defiant attitude that so characterized him when he wanted attention.
“If you want it back, you’re going to have to earn it.” Barth challenged, smiling.
Tanrak rolled his eyes, but he was already smiling. The accumulated stress of the day seemed to find an escape route at that exact moment. Without a second thought, he lunged at his boyfriend, letting all his weight fall onto his body.
“Hey! This is cheating!” Barth exclaimed, letting out a laugh as Tanrak’s body crushed him against the pillows.
“It’s not cheating, it’s justice.” Tanrak declared, shoving his hands under Barth’s shirt immediately to search for the wooden necklace.
But Barth was faster. He grabbed Tanrak’s wrists, halting his advance, and with an agile movement that Tanrak couldn’t defend against due to his exhaustion, Barth twisted his hips, reversing their positions. Now it was Barth who was on top, pinning Tanrak against the mattress, looking down at him with a victorious smile.
Barth tilted his head and began to shower Tanrak’s face with kisses. His lips kissed his forehead, his nose, his cheeks, his chin, his jaw, and finally his lips, and then he started over from the beginning.
Tanrak let out joyful giggles. Having Barth like this was comforting and quickly dissipated his stress.
. . ݁ ˖ 🧺 ٬٬ ࣪ ، 🧸 ، ࣪ ⊹ ֶָ
Sunday afternoons always brought with them the same amusing routine: the eternal battle between Tanrak’s love for literature and Barth’s insatiable need for attention.
That afternoon, the late sun filtered in with a golden hue through the window, illuminating, in an almost romantic way, the corner of the sofa where Tanrak was sitting. He held a cup of coffee in his hand and a worn book of poems open on his thighs. There was a perfect calm on his face, the same one he wore when he immersed himself in a world where words rhymed.
Barth, sitting beside him, was re—cleaning a computer board that was already clean while looking sideways at his boyfriend, but his patience had run out twenty minutes ago.
Barth narrowed his eyes. He began to tap the table rhythmically with his finger.
Tap, tap, tap.
“Barth…” Tanrak complained, but without looking at him.
Then, Barth began to let out «Tchs» that echoed through the entire living room.
“Barth, please, be quiet.” Tanrak requested, still without lifting his eyes from the paper.
Barth stopped for a few seconds, but he wanted cuddles, and he wanted them now. So, he lunged toward his boyfriend and bumped his shoulder against his, then snatched the poetry book away from him.
“That book already has too much of your attention.” Barth protested. “I am cuter.”
Tanrak set his coffee on the small table and exhaled a long sigh.
“Yes Barth, you are very cute, the cutest in fact, but give it to me, it’s the best part.” Tanrak requested, trying to gently push Barth.
“No. Kiss me or there is no reading.” Barth decreed.
“Listen to me carefully, Bartholomew.” He pronounced firmly. “If you don’t give it to me this instant, I’m going to tell the lady at the corner store that the «handsome guy who fixes PCs» is afraid of ghosts.”
Barth opened his eyes wide, indignation painted all over his face.
“That’s foul play, Rak! My reputation!” Barth complained. “How can you air out my secrets with the lady who gives us candy? She’s going to tell everyone!”
“Test me.” Tanrak challenged, raising an eyebrow with a smile.
Barth grumbled, letting out a dramatic groan as he handed over the book. He gave a long sigh of defeat and, letting himself fall heavily, arranged his body along the sofa and rested his head on Tanrak’s lap. His dark eyes looked up, fixed on his boyfriend.
“Since you’re going to ignore me, at least serve as a pillow.” Barth murmured, settling his cheek against Tanrak’s thigh. “And read out loud. If I have to compete with Vilariño or whoever it is you’re reading, I want to know who I’m losing to.”
Tanrak let out a soft laugh, his free hand dropping naturally to Barth’s hair, sinking his fingers between the strands, and began to stroke it.
“You’re not losing to anyone, dummy.” Tanrak murmured, smiling. “And it’s an Arabic poetry book, I found it when we went to the market the other day. I had never read anything from Arabic writing, I was surprised they have it in Thai.”
Tanrak cleared his throat in a subtle manner, maintaining the steady rhythm of his fingers tangling in Barth’s hair.
“I made my heart wander for love and found none but yours as a cure and a dwelling.” Tanrak began to read with a leisurely voice, that same voice he used to calm his little students.
Barth kept his eyes closed, enjoying the caresses on his scalp and the voice of his boyfriend.
“It is not my eye that sees you, it is my heart that contemplates you. You are the sun of my sky, the light that dissipates the shadows of my soul.” Tanrak spoke softly.
Barth opened his eyes.
“Wow, that’s you to me. The brightness that appeared when I was in the darkness.”
Tanrak stopped reading for a moment, his fingers paused, and he looked at his boyfriend’s face.
“You were a light for me too.” Tanrak murmured before leaning down and kissing his boyfriend’s forehead.