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The sky outside their bedroom window, when Pai finally tiptoes in, is a diluted inky blue, tethering more towards dawn than midnight. With a groan and a weary sigh that has very little to do with physical tiredness, Pai strips out of his rumpled workwear and pulls on the boxers that Sky's thoughtfully left at the foot of his bed before slipping in under the covers, careful not to rouse the sleeping man who has stolen his pillow and is now cuddling it.
It is a just punishment and nothing he doesn't deserve; this is the fourth time this week that Pai has had to work late, juggling time zones and team meetings and heated negotiation sessions with business partners he can barely tell apart. In all of that, he has missed dinners and cuddling in front of the TV, and their ritual of goodnight kisses and pre-bedtime play-arguing and everything that follows, and while Sky has been so patient and understanding of it all, he has retaliated by substituting Pai with a pillow.
He deserves it, and more.
Pai settles in, grabbing a cushion from the armchair by the window where Sky likes to sit and work. especially when it's raining outside. It's been a while since they had rain, almost as long as it's been since Prapai's seen Sky's cute, sleep-steeped face, his forehead creased, his mouth slightly parted - even though he insists it never is — as he frowns and fights the first rays of morning light permeating through the sheer curtains on their window.
Prapai hasn't been allowed to marvel at his favourite sleeping beauty because, as an extra curse to top up his already cursed weekday schedule, Sky has had a week of early mornings that have pulled him out of bed and back to university at the crack of dawn. Sky refuses to wake Pai up to say goodbye, saying it's bad enough to have to get out of bed that early without also having to listen to his boyfriend's heartbreaking, puppy-dog whines.
He can't help it; he's just needy in the mornings, when he's barely coherent and devoid of all his filters for logic and rationality.
Pai scoots forward to kiss an apology into the strip of exposed skin by Sky's collarbone.
Just another couple of days, a week tops, and then they can go back to being the centre of each other's universe.
"P'Pai?" Sky murmurs as he turns into him, kicking the pillow out of the way now that there is no need for a substitute. This is another small victory of their relationship: Sky no longer jerks awake at unexpected contact, his mind no longer screams 'danger!' before he can relax, and remember that it's over, that the man he shares his bed with would much rather peel his own skin off than hurt him.
Pai hums as Sky nestles into his arms. "'m home, honey."
"Not your honey," Sky sighs contentedly. "Missed you." His voice grows steadier as wakefulness takes hold, and Pai struggles to keep his eyes open, but he's no match for the soothing warmth of Sky's body heat and the softness of his mattress — only the best for his Sky — he's drifting off faster than he can stop it.
"Missed you too, my Sky," is all he manages before the tiredness sinks its claws in.
Presently, he feels Sky shift out of his hold, feels the mattress move as Sky gets up to face another fifteen-hour uni day.
"I love you, sleepy head," Sky says, as he drops a fluttery kiss on Pai's forehead; Pai whines as he makes an unfruitful attempt to grab at his hand.
Sky only laughs.
"Idiot," he says as he frees himself from Pai's hold.
"Don't leave me," Pai mumbles into his pillow, which has somehow made its way under his head. "Not today."
"Why?" Sky runs his fingers through Pai's hair. Why? Well, because…
Somewhere, through the haze of sleep, Pai hears the vibration of a mobile phone. Once. Twice. Three times.
Busy, Sky's busy.
Pai mutters something incoherent even to himself as he drifts off, determined to meet Sky in his dreams, to make up for how unfairly he's been deprived in the real world.
I miss you, my Sky. :(
Pai sends off the message as he steps off the elevator, thirty seconds early to his first meeting.
Miss you too.
The message from Sky makes him stop in his tracks with how straightforward it is. No snarky — and very endearing — comebacks about how he must not be busy enough, no 'tough for you' or 'don't you have to work' misdirects as is the norm.
Sky must be too busy to entertain him. With a sigh, Prapai swipes to his other messages, answering them with the appropriate 'thanks' and emojis they require.
You're a dumbass — that one's Plerng, in the sibling group chat. Just tell him.
No, don't. Phan weighs in. I want to see you die.
The elevator door opens before Pai has had the time to compose his features into something less akin to 'miserable lovesick fool'.
Luckily, it's only Namtan waiting for him at the other side, and just like Sky, she reacts in a way that is completely at odds with how she usually would. She's compassionate, almost, as she falls into step with him and briefs him on the battles of the day. "I have a gift for you," she says as she hands him the day's agenda. "You can be done by seven tonight, if you skip lunch."
His heart lifts at the possibility. Seven o'clock is leagues better than whatever absolute hell o'clock his days have ended at this past week. Seven o'clock presents the possibility of driving down to Sky's department — he can pick him up and take him out to dinner as a treat for having worked so hard all week. They could get seafood ravioli and wine - Sky's favourite, and then — and Pai'll ask Namtan to check the timings — but maybe they could go catch a late-night show of that new movie Sky's been dying to watch.
There is only one flaw in that perfect plan — Sky's going to be working late with the rest of his departmental event planning committee. The freshers' orientation is in two days, Pai'd be lucky if he gets to see Sky at all that night.
"What's a good dinner for a group of overworked college students?" He asks his secretary.
"Pizza." Namtan says, without hesitation, "and maybe some birthday cake."
"Just the pizza's fine." Pai hastens his footsteps, makes a futile attempt to escape into the safety of his office before Namtan can see through him.
"You haven't told him," she says, her eyes narrowed in accusation.
"It's been busy."
"You're…" She shakes her head in disbelief. "Fine, just don't call me when it backfires."
It hadn't occurred to him that he would, or that it could.
The clock tells him it's only a minute past seven; somehow, even with lunch, he's managed to be done for the day. He's about to check in with Namtan, to see what happened to the pizza. If the order hasn't been placed yet, he can pick up the food and drive it down to Sky's faculty, bribe the rest of the committee with the stuff so he can steal five minutes away with his boyfriend. He's going to need those five minutes, especially if Sky's planning on pulling an all-nighter.
The door to his office swings open just as Pai is pressing the button on his intercom.
"You have a visitor," Namtan tells him without preamble. "It's important you see him right away."
"Do I have to?" Pai all but whines. "I was going to leave for the day."
"This one's non-negotiable," his secretary is relentless. "Go, I'll pack up here."
Grumbling, Pai gets to his feet. He takes a fortifying breath as he buttons his suit jacket and forces a smile onto his face. "Can you send Sky and his friends some food at the department address?"
"I can send his friends some food." She assures him as she steps around him.
The flowers are gorgeous; dahlias the size of Prapai's face, surrounded by the brightest, yellowest chrysanthemums he's ever seen, and yet, the flowers are nothing compared to the man whose arms they are cradled in. He knows those arms too well, has spent countless hours with them flung around his shoulders, his waist, his hips —
— he's almost jealous of the flowers for taking what is effectively his place.
"Sky?" Pai bounds up to the man, eager to reach out and make physical contact, to make sure this isn't some overwork-induced hallucination. "Sky!" He says more forcefully when Sky doesn't evaporate when Pai touches his cheek.
"P'Pai." It's breathtaking, the way Sky's entire face lights up in response to him. Impossibly, he's even more beautiful like this. "Here," he holds out the bouquet; Pai accepts it on autopilot.
"They're lovely," Pai breathes in the fresh scent. "Who are they from?"
Sky looks at him, a long, searching gaze, the kind he reserves for when he seriously wants to hear Prapai's opinion on something. After a short eternity, he sighs and shakes his head.
"From me," he says finally. "For you."
For him?
From Sky?
Suddenly, the bouquet in his hands is prettier, heavier, more magical than it was minutes ago.
For him?
"C'mon," Sky says as he takes his boyfriend's hand. "P'Tan cleared your schedule. You're all mine tonight, birthday boy."
Torn between unabashed joy and just a hint of terror, Prapai allows himself to be dragged out the lobby and into the lift.
"My Sky —oh!"
The doors have just about closed behind them before Pai finds himself pressed into a corner of the lift, held there by the entirety of Sky's body weight as the man kisses him gently, like Pai is more delicate than the flowers in his arms. Pai is woozy from the sudden surge of affection that's setting his nerves afire. He clings to Sky, snakes his free arm around the man's waist, completely unbothered by the very real concern of being caught like this by his subordinates.
To hell with them all, he's allowed. Especially today, he's extra allowed. It's his birthday, after all.
They break apart just as the lift doors open to the parking garage. Pai obediently follows Sky out to his car, settling into the front passenger seat and holding it together quite magnificently, if he does say so himself, when Sky leans forward to pull the seatbelt across his body. Sky leans in close as he clicks the belt in place. Pai takes that moment to plant a surprise kiss on the square of cheek available to him.
Sky hisses at the contact, but he's smiling, that lovely, sparkling smile that renders Pai breathless every time.
"Don't do that," he admonishes Pai. "I'm still mad at you."
Pai whimpers, ready once more to grovel and apologise and explain, until he looks down and sees the flowers in his lap. The pout on his face melts into a silly grin — flowers, these flowers are for him.
"You're acting like no one's ever given you flowers before," Sky grumbles as they turn off the main road.
Now that he thinks about it, he's never really received a bouquet before, not romantically, not like this. He gets welcome and thank you bouquets all the time - generic arrangements of rose and baby's breath and carnations from an assortment of venture capitalists, and Namtan's sent a million on his behalf to his business contacts, and sometimes, to his hook-ups.
"No one's ever brought me flowers before," he admits, burying his face in the dahlias and completely missing the way Sky looks at him just then, a mixture of affection and sadness.
They end up at the barbeque restaurant - a nice little place tucked away in a quiet street corner, with outside seating in a lawn bordered by jasmine bushes. Pai insists on bringing his flowers to the table, carefully setting them down next to him while he tries in vain to convince Sky to take the seat on his other side.
Sky slides onto the bench opposite him.
"Still mad," he reiterates.
"Sky…" Now that they're seated and he has his boyfriend's full attention again, Pai launches into his defence. "I forgot."
"You forgot." Sky repeats, frowning at his groveling boyfriend. "You remember my class schedule, but you forgot your own birthday?"
"Yes," Pai nods earnestly. "I swear. I mean, it's not a big deal, it's just a day, I never do anything for it anyway —"
"P'Phayu said you threw a party last year."
"Oh."
He had, hadn't he? He'd had an obnoxious club do, with too much drinking and too many people in attendance, and only a handful that he cared about.
"Well, I didn't want to do anything this year," which is mostly true - the idea of going to those parties, with Sky on his arm — the very idea is nauseating. Sky would hate it, the crowd, the noise and the drinking, which means he would hate it. "I didn't have the time to plan, and you — we—" he corrects himself, "— were busy." He fights the impulse to cower under the weight of the look Sky's giving him.
He's in so much trouble.
Told you so, the voices in his head sound torturously like Namtan and his siblings.
"We're ready to order." Sky beckons the server over and dictates their order. "Can we get extra kimchi instead of the cucumber?" He asks the server. "My boyfriend's allergic. What?" He asks, once the server's disappeared into the restaurant, and Pai's still staring at him, dazed and gooey-eyed.
"You said 'boyfriend'." Pai tilts his chin in the direction of their fellow diners. Sky's always been shy about public acknowledgement of their relationship, always unimpressed by Prapai's effusive declarations of the same. He's never refuted Pai, or told him not to refer to him as his boyfriend; he's just never been as enthusiastic about showing Pai off the way that Pai is about him. Pai doesn't hold it against him - he's more than happy to be claimed by Sky in private.
"So?" Sky seems to have forgotten this quirk of his altogether. "Do you not want me to call you that?"
"That's not what I said!" Pai protests, eager to trample all over that notion before Sky can implement it in any way. "I am your boyfriend."
"I hope so," Sky mumbles as he returns his attention to the menu. "I brought you flowers."
"Here," Sky holds up the seared pork belly with his chopsticks. "Try this, P'Pai."
This is a dream, his overworked mind showing him glimpses of heaven, to make up for the spreadsheets and contracts he's had to look at all week.
First the flowers, then Sky calling him his boyfriend. Now this — Sky feeding him? His favourite food? In public?
"Eat," Sky repeats, "before it gets cold."
Pai follows the command dutifully.
"Good?" Sky asks as he pops a strip into his mouth and loads a third one onto his chopsticks, which he also holds out to Pai.
"Are you going to feed me all of this?" Pai asks, gesturing to the full grill between them. "That's a lot of work. I don't want my favourite architect to overwork his arm."
"Fine," Sky redirects the chopsticks to his own mouth. "You're not allowed to cuddle me anymore."
"What? Why!?" Pai is thrown by this sudden derailment of what has been a very nice evening.
"Can't have my favourite CEO's arm going numb." Sky shrugs as he nibbles at kimchi. He gives Pai a long, appraising look before he picks up another strip of meat.
He holds it out.
Pai shuts up and eats.
They finish every piece of grilled meat between them; Sky feeds him every morsel, oblivious to the looks directed their way by amused — and maybe jealous, to Prapai's joy — diners.
He shuts up even harder when Sky puts his card down for the bill, even as every cell in his body screams that this is blasphemy. Voicing those thoughts out loud, right now, his boyfriend instinct tells him that'll be a death sentence.
Pai doesn't want to die on his birthday.
"You're mad at me."
" No?" Sky says, his voice laced with sarcasm. "Why would I be mad? On your birthday?"
"Sky…" Pai tries to reach for his boyfriend's hand. To his surprise, Sky doesn't pull away. "Please don't be mad at me." He singsongs, attempts to be cute, and it works, because he makes it to their apartment in one piece. Sky even lets him hold his hand.
Once they're in the privacy of their home, Prapai tries in earnest to make amends, but Sky meets him at his game, parrying every attempt at a kiss with an avoidance tactic of his own.
"Baby," Pai whines when Sky squirms out of his embrace at the last minute and has Prapai kissing the wall. "I know I messed up."
"How so?" Sky asks as he leads them into the dark living room; Pai follows, flower bouquet nestled in his arm like it's a sleeping baby, navigating the unlit space through memory alone.
"I didn't tell you it was my birthday." Pai recites morosely.
"Is that it?" There are hands on his waist, helping him down onto the sofa, where he finds familiar comfort as he is allowed to lean his head on Sky's shoulder.
The silence feels like it's waiting for an answer, one that Pai doesn't have.
"Isn't that it?" Pai asks meekly, choosing to ask rather than digging himself a deeper hole.
"No," Sky says. "That's my fault. I should have known without you having to tell me. I never bothered to find out—" he physically clamps a hand over Pai's mouth when he opens it to protest. "I meant to, but I kept forgetting. I'm not sad because you didn't tell me —" Sad? No, no, no, this is very bad; he didn't realise they were in sadness territory. "I'm sad because of why you didn't tell me."
"Why — there's no why —"
"Really?" Sky interrupts him. "So you didn't not tell me because I had a busy schedule this week?"
"I —" Even though he can't see him in the dark, Pai can feel the intensity of Sky's gaze on his face. It would not do him well to lie. "Maybe?" He says, fighting the tremor in his voice.
Sky soothes him with a kiss to the top of his head. "You weren't thinking, were you?"
"I can never think when I'm with you," Pai confesses. "Too pretty."
"Watch it," Sky scoffs. "I'm only listening to you because it's your day."
"Is that why you said you missed me back when I texted you?" The pieces are slowly but steadily falling together in Pai's mind.
Sky hums his assent. "You know," he sighs. "When I first met you, I thought you were a self-absorbed playboy."
Pai does know this; Sky's first impressions about him are no mystery. Sky had straight-up called him a psycho and saved him as that on his phone.
"I was wrong," Sky says. "Not the playboy part, and you were annoying and cocky and kind and cheesy and overconfident -"
"It worked," Pai mutters under his breath, and Sky snorts, but once more, does not reprimand him for it.
"— but you couldn't be self-absorbed if your life depended on it. You're nosy," Sky complains. "You know everything about everyone else, you even know what pizza Sig likes, and well, I've decided I hate it." Sky huffs.
"Sorry." Pai apologises, nuzzling deeper into Sky's neck.
Sky's entire body shakes, whether from silent laughter or an exasperated sigh, is anyone's guess. " You should be," he says. "You're too considerate."
No one's ever commended him for being too considerate before, but Pai decides now is not the time to bask in the praise. Now is the time to think, to work out for himself what Sky means.
Sky's not angry — no, sad — because he knows the culinary preferences of Sky's friend group, or that he has Sky's class schedule memorised; those are basic facts that any good boyfriend should know, right up there with knowing your partner's favourite colour, favourite food, favourite sleeping position —
Oh.
"My Sky," Pai puts on his best appeasing tone as he ventures forth, "you're not upset because I didn't tell you, you're upset —" he sighs into the crook of Sky' neck, suddenly incredibly frustrated with himself. " — because I thought I'd be disturbing you if I told you."
"And?"
"And," Pai goes on, more confidently now. "That was stupid of me…because…" it's embarrassing to have to parrot the words he's said to Sky a million times over. "…I'm more important than any work you might have."
Sky doesn't say anything at first. He only readjusts his position and reaches for the light switch on the wall behind him.
"You're getting wiser with age," he says as he flicks the switch.
The room is bathed in warm yellow light, a resilient ray of electric sunshine that bounces off the silver and gold streamers draped across the furniture, crisscrossing the wall. A sparkly sign in the centre winks cheerfully at him:
HAPPY BIRTHDAY, arranged around an oversized balloon heart.
"Rain helped me," Sky answers the unvoiced question. "He took on all my work for the day so I could come home early. It's a bit much…" he mutters when Pai continues to stare gobsmacked, at the decorations.
"No," Pai interrupts, pulling Sky into him and folding around him like a clam as he finally finds his voice. "It's perfect. I love it, not as much as I love you, but I love it."
"You're babbling," Sky tells him, although there is no hint of irritation in his voice. "I'm glad," he says. "It's my first time — planning a birthday for my boyfriend." His cheeks are painted a lovely shade of pink as he tilts his head upwards to glare at Pai. "Even though he didn't give me enough time —" his complaint is muffled by Pai, who finally, greedily seeks out his boyfriend's lips.
"How did you find out?" Pai asks when they finally break apart for air.
"You told me," Sky smooths out his hair as he smiles up at him, his lips swollen from Pai's sampling of it. "This morning, when you wouldn't let me go. You were half-asleep, but you said I couldn't leave you all alone on your special day. So I asked P'Phayu if it was your birthday." His shoulders sag as he sighs. "I'll throw you a big party next year."
"Don't even think about it," Pai warns him. "Next birthday, we're going away to a nice resort with no phone or internet, and I don't care if both my arms go numb forever, I'm not letting you go."
"What about the flowers?"
"You have to get me flowers." Pai grins. "And you have to tell everyone you love me like you told that waitress today."
"I didn't tell her I loved you." Sky counters, though he sounds almost fond.
"No," Pai agrees. "But you fed me and had them give us extra kimchi. No one's ever done that for me before," the humour bleeds into seriousness. "Thank you, my Sky," he says. "For doing that for me."
Sky only kisses him again.
"Idiot," he plants a peck at the corner of Pai's mouth. "I'll do it every day, but you have to let me."
"Okay," Pai is only too happy to agree.
"Well…" His imp of a boyfriend pushes away from him, a telltale glint in his eyes. "Your birthday isn't over. There's still the cake." There's something deliciously devious in the way he says those perfectly benign words. "Your favourite."
He disentangles himself from Pai and disappears into the kitchen, returning with a vanilla cake, topped with whipped cream swirls and devilishly red cherries.
"I thought as a present…" He says as he sets the cake down on the dining table, right in front of the decoration. "You could choose…" He swipes a finger across one of the whipped cream peaks and sucks on it as he looks pointedly at Pai, conveniently smearing some of the cream on his lips. "…what you'd like it served on."
"I -" Pai takes a tentative step forward, then another, until he's at the other end of the table. "I can eat it off of anything?"
Sky shrugs as he picks out a cherry and feeds it to Pai, letting the man lick the icing from his fingers. "It's your birthday, P'Pai," he says. "Do what you want."
"Yeah?" Pai nudges Sky onto the dining table, trailing his hands under the man's t-shirt as he kisses his vanilla-cherry mouth. "Can I do who I want?"
Sky folds into the touch, arching his back as he comes up to meet Pai's wandering fingers. "As long as it's me." He breathes into Pai's ear, his breath hitching as Pai pulls the t-shirt off his head.
"It's always you," Pai rumbles as his appetite flares up, and Pai's suddenly famished, dying to lick, taste, devour.
And he doesn't mean the cake.