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The first time Po saw him standing behind the bar, mixing drinks with a gracefulness that seemed entirely out of place, Po knew he was done for.
He had just broken up with Earn after over two years of being used as nothing more than Earn's personal idea machine. He had known his relationship with Earn was over long before Earn had packed his things and left Po behind with nothing more than a pat on the shoulder and a meaningless "sorry". Still Po couldn't help the sadness and the sense of resignation that had settled deep into his bones.
So after another fruitless day of endless job hunting and a little bit too much oversharing, Po had landed at a cozy bar, hidden just out of sight from the main road. Usually, he wasn't much of a drinker, never really understanding why people used alcohol to drown out their sorrows when it only ever did the opposite for him, but somehow he'd been drawn to the soft light crawling it's way out under the door like he was a moth drawn to a flame.
As soon as he'd stepped into the bar, he'd been met with the soft hum of slow going jazz and the deep, almost overpowering smell of rich alcohol. The entrance of the bar was dimly lit, soft brown hardwood glowing almost golden under the lights. The main area was hidden behind a thick, heavy velvet curtain, muffling the sound of soft chatter coming from inside. When Po had pushed the curtain aside, he'd been met with a bar that looked like it belonged to one of the rich districts of Bangkok, not like something he'd find just around the corner of his shitty, old condo.
He'd just been about to leave because he was certain he couldn't afford even a simple drink without having to dig deep into his savings and run the risk of having his parents sent him money out of pity once again, when he'd seen the man behind the counter. He was wearing a black vest that hugged his shoulders and accentuated his waist in a way that had Po feeling slightly dizzy. The way the sleeves of his shirt were rolled up and kept securely around his bulging biceps with two black garters didn't really help either.
Before Po knew it, he'd sat down in one of the plush, emerald armchairs placed in front of the sleek, black bar. He'd told himself it had nothing to do with the pretty bartender, he simply needed a drink to get over his fucked up relationship. No ulterior motives whatsoever.
"Good evening, Sir. What can I get you today?" The man had smiled, looking down at Po. And if he'd thought, his face was the prettiest thing he'd ever seen, the man's voice was the sweetest sound that had ever graced Po's ears.
For a moment, Po couldn't help but stare at him. The soft curve of his nose, the bright, sparkling shine behind his eyes, the cutting sharpness of his jawline. Then the words had registered with his brain and he'd realized that he had to look like an absolute idiot.
"I don't—I don't…know," Po had stammered, feeling his ears heat up under the man's careful gaze.
"Your first time here?" The man had asked politely and Po had nodded, scared that if he opened his mouth he'd only say something even more embarrassing. "Let me try to make you something then."
The man had turned around, sorting through the grand shelf of bottles behind him. Po had watched him mix the drink together, his eyes attentively following his every move. When the man was done, he'd set the glass in front of him and Po had lifted it up to inspect the pale reddish beverage before he'd taken a tentative sip. The drink had tasted fresh, a mix of citrus and something fruity hitting his tongue. And maybe Po had already been a little bit biased, but he could swear it was the best drink he'd ever tasted.
He had felt the man watch as he drank as if he were waiting for the most important opinion of his life.
"It's really good," Po had said and the man had beamed, his whole face lighting up at once.
"That's good."
He'd looked like he'd wanted to say more, but before he could he'd been called away by another customer. Po had watched him go with a giddiness in his chest he hadn't felt in ages.
Since then, Po came to the bar every single Friday.
He hadn't meant for it to turn into a habit it just kind of…did. At the beginning, he'd told himself that it had everything to do with the tasty drinks and nothing with the man who served them. By now, Po had given up on lying to himself. He knew he only went there for Thame. Thame the pretty, handsome bartender who made Po's heart skip a beat every time their eyes met.
And as much as Po knew there was no use in denying his growing feelings for Thame, he also knew that there was no use in hoping the thing between him and Thame would ever turn into anything more than a simple customer and bartender situation. Thame didn't like him like that. Po was sure of it, because Thame flirted with everyone. Not in the annoyingly pushy way guys like Earn did, but in a more charmingly subtle way—a sweet gaze, a hand that lingered a fraction too long, a voice that dropped an octave too deep. And while Thame flirted with everyone, he never did the same with Po.
Of course Thame wasn't rude or anything. He was polite in the way he was with everyone, but never more than that. Thame always pulled back immediately whenever their hands brushed when Po reached for a drink he was handing him. Every time he was chatting with Po he was fidgeting like he couldn't wait to be away from him again. And the most glaring fact off all: Thame always avoided his eyes.
Po was aware that he probably wasn't Thame's type and that was okay. It had always been difficult for him to find partners with the way he looked. Po had been a swimmer from his early school days up until he finished university. Being an athlete had made his shoulders and ribs broader than most guys'. He knew that it was often a major turn off for them. Earn had asked him several times to lose some of the bulkiness, but it had never quite worked.
"So who is it?" Baifern asked, knocking her foot against Po's under the table.
He looked up from his coffee, blinking away the haze that had formed in his eyes from staring at the same spot for the last couple minutes while his brain had been busy running away from him.
They were sitting in their favorite café—a cozy, small place just outside of their old campus. When he was still in uni, he used to come here every week with his friend group to work on assignments and gossip about their course mates. But the years had passed and most of his friends had moved away or gotten jobs that kept them busy until only Baifern and him remained.
"Who is what?"
Po took a small sip of his coffee only to choke on it when Baifern continued. "The guy you're having a massive crush on."
Po coughed, feeling his whole face burn up.
"I don't know what you're talking about," he said when he finally felt the air return to his lungs again.
Baifern rolled her eyes, an annoyed huff leaving her nose. "Don't play dumb. I've known you for what now? Almost ten years? I know what you look like when you have a crush. And this," she pointed at Po's face, close enough that he went cross eyed, "is exactly the look I'm talking about."
Po sighed, defeatedly leaning back in his chair. He knew how Baifern was when she got like this. "Okay, so hypothetically, if there was a Mr. A and a Mr. B—"
"Not this again," Baifern groaned, "Po you're almost thirty. Just admit to it."
"So Mr. A," Po continued, pointedly glaring at her, "likes to go to a bar where Mr. B works as a bartender. And Mr. A likes Mr. B but he knows that Mr. B doesn't like him back because Mr. B likes to flirt with his other customers but he never flirts with Mr. A."
"Have you ever thought that—"
"Mr. A," Po interrupted her.
"Right," Baifern sighed, "Has Mr. A ever thought that maybe the bartender doesn't flirt with him because he doesn't just see him as another customer?"
"What do you mean?"
"Well you—I mean Mr. A," Baifern quickly corrected herself when Po glared at her once more, "said that Mr.B likes to flirt with everyone except for Mr. A. Doesn't that make it seem like Mr. A is someone special?"
"Yeah, special in a way that Mr. B pays no attention to him," Po muttered, crossing his arms over his chest.
"That's not what I mean and you know it." Baifern kicked his shin under the table, making Po hiss in pain. "I mean that Mr. B is a bartender. Of course he's gonna be flirty with the customers. But maybe he's not flirty with Mr. A because he actually cares about him more than his other customers."
"So he shows him that he cares by ignoring him?"
"Oh, come on Po! Maybe he's just shy around you," Baifern threw her hands up, no longer caring about Mr. A and Mr. B. "Next time you see him, search for the look in his eyes and you'll know."
"What look in his eyes?" Po asked, growing more and more confused.
"You'll know it when you see it. Trust me." Baifern smiled and Po thought that was the end of it until she continued. "So a bartender, huh?"
Po groaned, letting his forehead fall onto the wooden table in hopes it would swallow him whole.
For once Po didn't wait until it was Friday to seek out the bar. It felt weird to go there in the middle of the week, like a crack in the matrix. He didn't even know if Thame worked there on Tuesday's but after his talk with Baifern he just couldn't stop thinking about him. Even less than normally. He craved to see Thame like a man in the desert craved water. He needed to put his new knowledge to use and see if Baifern was actually right about something for once or if Thame potentially liking him was just another of her crazy ideas.
When he pushed the curtain to the main room open, he was glad to see Thame stand behind the bar in his usual crisp uniform. The room was more empty than normally, which shouldn't come as a surprise considering most people didn't go out in the middle of the week. The only other customer besides Po was an elderly woman, sitting in the corner of the room and eyeing Thame up like she couldn't wait to devour him.
Suddenly, Po felt entirely out of place. What was he even doing here other than making a fool out of himself over some childish crush? He stepped back, ready to turn around and never step a foot into the building ever again when Thame looked up, meeting his eyes across the room. For a second, he looked at Po like he'd seen a ghost and Po could feel his cheeks heat up in embarrassment. Then, Thame smiled and all of Po's blaring thoughts quietened into pleasant hum.
With a new found vigor, Po walked across the room to sit down in his usual chair.
"Good evening Mr. Pawat," Thame greeted him, professional as always, "I didn't expect to see you here today."
"I have a free day tomorrow so I thought I'd drop by a little earlier this week," Po lied, because there was no way he'd tell Thame that he was just here because he'd been too excited to see him. Po tried to meet Thame's eyes, to search for the look that was apparently supposed to tell him how Thame felt about him, but as so often Thame avoided his gaze to stare down at his own hands.
Great advice Baifern, he thought bitterly.
"You—You work as an editor, right?" Thame asked, his fingers fidgeting against the smooth, black marble counter and Po tried not to interpret Thame's stutter as anything more than that. He was surprised that Thame remembered his job. As far as Po remembered, he'd only let it slip once months ago on the day he'd received the job offer.
"Yes," Po nodded, while Thame started to mix his usual drink without question. "I work as an editor for ONER. You know all of that tpop stuff. Maybe you've seen one of my music videos."
Thame's hand stopped where it was stirring Po's drink, his eyes glazing over with something Po couldn't quite name.
"Yeah, I know them," Thame said after a while. Then, quieter as if he wasn't sure whether he wanted to share the details with Po, he added, "I used to be a trainee there."
"Oh, really?" Po asked, shocked and giddy. This had to be the first time Thame shared something personal with him. At least on purpose. He had let it slip before that he used to be in a band. It had been fleeting, easy enough to miss if you didn't listen attentively, but Po still remembered. When Thame had mentioned it, Po had imagined him in some kind of high school rock band, guitar in hand and screaming into the mic, not in some mainstream pop band.
"Yes," Thame answered softly, setting Po's drink down on the counter in front of him, "but obviously it didn't work out."
Po was curious to know more about Thame's past but he could tell by the look on his face that the topic was still a sore spot for him so he tried a different approach. After all, he couldn't let Thame go now that he'd actually opened up to Po, if only a little.
"So you like music then?"
Thame's whole face immediately brightened, his eyes lighting up with a sparkle that made something in Po's chest constrict with a painful tenderness. And before Po knew it, Thame launched into a whole monologue of his favorite indie bands, and the new equipment for his guitar he'd bought recently and tons of technical terms Po had never heard before.
It was like a switch had been flipped inside of Thame. Po didn't think he'd ever heard him talk this much about anything that wasn't different options of alcohol and drinks. Not that he was complaining. Far from it actually. If he'd known this was what it took to break the ice between them he'd done it months ago.
Po didn't dare to utter even a word, scared that the spell would be broken and Thame would stop if he did. Thame looked cute when he spoke about things he liked, his nose scrunching up and his eyes sparkling with a joy that felt entirely contagious, and if Po hadn't had a major crush on him before he'd definitely have one now.
At some point during Thame's rant, the bar started to fill up with more people and it didn't take long before Thame was called away. Po tried not to be disappointed to see Thame go. It was his job after all. Still he couldn't feel the spark of resigned jealousy when he saw Thame lean across the bar, letting an older man in an expensive looking suit whisper something in his ear that resulted in Thame letting out a low laugh as his hand lingered on the man's arm.
Maybe he's just shy around you, Baifern's words ghosted through his mind and he grasped onto them like they were the only thing keeping him afloat. But as the night progressed and Thame's attention kept being stolen away by other customers that last bit of hope quickly started to diminish.
Sighing, Po grabbed his jacket and got up. Maybe it was for the best if he didn't come back to the bar again. At least that way he wouldn't keep hurting himself.
When Thame arrived home after his shift, the house was suspiciously empty. Sure, it was almost 4 a.m, but usually their house never slept. Whether it was Dylan staying up way past sunrise to work on a new song, or Pepper on a call with his long-distance girlfriend, or Nano dancing through the living room with a tirelessness Thame always envied, or Jun deep diving into another reddit rabbit hole about some random shit.
Thame didn't bother turning on the light as he kicked his shoes off at the entrance, he'd lived in the house with his four roommates long enough that he knew his way around. Especially after a long day of work when all he wanted was to fall into his bed and let the mattress swallow him whole. And today was exactly like one of those days. He'd fucked up again, he knew it.
As soon as he'd seen Po walk into the bar he'd been almost certain that he was hallucinating. That maybe all the daydreaming about him had finally taken its toll on Thame's brain. And then imaginary Po had smiled and sat down in his usual chair and Thame had been faced with the fact that imaginary Po was in fact very much real. And just like every time he came face to face with the most handsomely beautiful man he had ever seen, his brain had short circuited and he'd made an absolute idiot of himself.
Sighing, he trudged to the kitchen, trying not to think of all the times he'd tried to ask Po out only for his brain to turn into mush and completely forget how to function. He opened the fridge, taking out a cool bottle of water and letting its coolness wash away the dryness in his throat.
"Well, look who we have here."
Thame screamed, letting the open bottle drop to the floor and watching its contents spill over his naked feet.
"What the fuck, Jun?" He turned around, squinting to see Jun sit in the corner of the kitchen like a parent waiting for their child to return after sneaking out. "Why are you sitting there like that?"
"Why not?" Jun answered, shrugging. He flicked on the light, making Thame's eyes squeeze shut from the sudden brightness. "The better question is, why are you sighing and slouching through the kitchen like you've just attended your own funeral?"
"Fuck off," Thame grumbled, reaching for an old towel to clean the floor.
"Oh my god!" Jun exclaimed, excited. "It's him again, isn't it? The buff bar guy who you refuse to admit you have a massive crush on even though it's painfully obvious."
Thame didn't look up, refusing to meet Jun's eyes. Instead, he scrubbed at the floor like that would be enough to get Jun to leave him alone. Of course it wasn't.
"Why don't you just ask him out? Every Friday after your shift's over all I hear is 'Po did this and Po did that and Po is so pretty and his shoulders are so broad and I wish I could make out with him in the middle of the bar.'"
"I did not say that." Thame's head finally snapped up, if only to glare at Jun. He felt his ears heat up, betraying his embarrassment.
"But you definitely thought about it if the noises coming from your room are anything to go by." Jun smirked and received the wet kitchen towel straight to the face.
"Even if I had a crush on him, it doesn't matter anyway. I'm a loser," Thame mumbled, letting himself fall back against the fridge.
"Well, I'm not gonna deny that." Jun stepped around the table to let himself sink down next to Thame. "But maybe he likes losers."
Thame huffed, letting his head drop back. Po didn't seem like the type of guy who liked guys like Thame. He always looked so mature and experienced and like someone who had their shit together. Not like Thame who'd moved all the way to Bangkok for a dream that hadn't worked out. Not like Thame who had no idea what to do with his life other than serve drinks that cost more than his monthly salary to people who didn't even blink before ordering them. Not like Thame who in his twenty-one years of living hadn't even held hands with anyone, let alone had any other type of romantic experience.
"Honestly Thame, why don't you just ask him out? The worst thing he can do is say no," Jun said, his voice softening from his usual teasing tone into something more careful. Because despite being an annoying prick most of the time, he still knew Thame better than anyone else ever had.
"Easy for you to say. You've never been rejected by anyone."
"First of all: not true. Remember that fellow trainee. The tall, lanky one who could rap faster than anyone? He almost punched me in the face when I asked him out once."
"Great. So now apart from the fear of getting rejected I also have to be scared of Po punching me in the face."
"That's not my point," Jun sighed, knocking his elbow into Thame's ribs. "You said that that Po guy shows up every Friday, right? And that he only ever buys one drink that he sips on for the rest of the night. If that doesn't tell you that he's into you then I don't know what does."
"How does him only buying one drink bring you to the conclusion that he's into me?" Thame asked, confused. One of the reasons he'd never dated anyone aside from the dating ban he'd had to follow as a trainee, was that he sucked at reading people. He'd never been good at telling whether people were flirting with him or just being nice and so far his instincts had always told him that Po was the kind of person who was just being nice to everyone.
"The drinks you make are good, no doubt. But they sure as hell aren't good enough for someone to come to the bar every single Friday for one drink, sit there for three hours, and then leave. At least not unless said person has ulterior motives like staring at the handsome bartender."
"You think so?" Thame asked hopefully. He knew that Jun's advice sucked most of the time, but when it came to relationships Jun was far more experienced than him. Sure, maybe Pepper or Nano would be the better choice to ask for advice in that regard, but Thame would take what he could get.
"I know it." Jun nodded, gripping Thame's shoulder. "Now please just ask him out before I go to the bar myself and do it for you."
As it turned out, asking Po out was easier said than done. Over the next couple of weeks Po completely disappeared. He didn't show up at the bar. Not on Fridays or any other day of the week. Thame tried not to think too much about it. Po was probably just on vacation or some kind of business trip. Things people who had their shit together did.
When the fifth Friday arrived and Po still hadn't come back, Thame started to grow worried. Had something happened to the other man? Was he sick and lying somewhere in a hospital? Did he find a partner and no longer needed to spend his Friday nights at the bar with Thame? The thought made a weird, icy feeling creep up in him that haunted him through the weeks.
Without Po the bar had lost its charm. Thame had never really loved his job, seeing it more as a way to make ends meet than anything. But with Po there it had been more. Thame had been excited to go there, so much that he'd counted down the days from one Friday to the next. With Po gone, the bar was back to being another place that reminded Thame of his failure.
The day he finally showed up again was a Monday of all days. Thame had just opened the bar and turned on the jazz playlist that always looped itself into his brain every time he tried to sleep when the curtain to the main room swept open and Po stepped in. His movements were careful, like he wasn't entirely sure how much space he was allowed to take up.
Thame went still behind the bar, his mind quieting for the first time in weeks before it exploded with an array of thoughts that tumbled over each other like dominos. Where had Po been all these weeks? Why was he back now? And most importantly was he here to stay or was he only here for one last visit?
No matter what the answer was, Thame would ask him on a date today. The last few weeks without Po had been horribly empty and Thame couldn't bear the thought of losing him again. If Po said no or smacked him over the head, at least Thame would know. It would hurt like nothing ever had, but at least then he could try to move on.
"Hey," Po said when he reached the counter. His hands were clenched in front of him, his eyes fixed on the wall behind Thame. He looked nervous and somehow that made Thame feel braver and more scared than he'd ever been.
"Hey," Thame answered, dropping his usual politeness in exchange for something softer. He was dying to ask Po where he'd been the last few weeks and what had made him come back now, but Po was still hovering in front of him like he wasn't sure whether to stay or leave, so Thame tried to stir the conversation to safer grounds. "Do you want your usual?"
Po hesitated a few seconds. His eyes met Thame's and for once he tried to hold Po's gaze without immediately glancing away in fear that Po would see what lay behind them. Despite being fully clothed, Thame felt completely bare beneath Po's eyes. Like his heart lay flayed open in front of Po, ready to be stitched back together or torn apart entirely.
"Please," Po finally whispered, his voice carrying gently over the quiet music. Thame felt a wave of relief crash over him, almost drowning him in its intensity. He watched Po sink down in his usual chair and quickly turned around to start mixing Po's drink. His hand shook slightly as he stirred the drink and he only hoped Po didn't notice.
When he handed the drink to Po, their fingers brushed and the warmth that spread through Thame at the touch almost made him drop the glass. His eyes dropped to Po's lips and despite denying it in front of Jun, he was dying to lean in and feel them against his own. They looked so soft and plush and pink and Thame wondered, not for the first time, what they would taste like.
"Thank you." Po's voice finally pulled him from his thoughts. Thame blinked, feeling his cheeks heat up as he leaned back. He watched as Po took a tentative sip from his glass and decided it was now or never.
"Phi," he started, the honorific slipping off his tongue and making Po's head snap up, "I was…I was wondering if maybe you wanted to—"
The curtain swung open, interrupting Thame before he could ask the question he'd been dying to ask for months. In stepped another of Thame's regular customers. A man in his early fifties, wearing a sleek black suit that looked like it cost more than Thame's monthly rent. He was one of the annoying ones. The kind that always demanded Thame's entire attention and got rude when he didn't get it.
Po still stared at him like he was desperately waiting for Thame to continue, but he knew the moment was ruined. A second later the man who'd settled on the other end of the bar called for his attention and Thame sighed, feeling his shoulders slump.
"Sorry," he apologized, dropping his gaze, "I'll be right back, okay?"
Po opened his mouth as if to speak but stopped himself, only nodding instead. Thame wanted nothing more than to stay and finally talk to Po, but the man called him again, his voice already laced with impatience. And as much as the thought of separating from Po for even a second pained him, he really couldn't afford to lose his job over some stupid asshole.
With one last glance at Po, he finally turned around to face the other man. He schooled his face into its usual flirty mask and just like always, the change felt wrong on his face. Like he was a child playing dress up.
"Good evening, Sir." Thame smiled politely "What can I get you today?"
Thame only listened with one ear as the man ordered his drink, his mind still focused on Po and on how close he'd gotten to finally asking him out when the man had decided to show up and ruin everything.
As soon as the man was done, Thame quickly mixed his drink before he set it down in front of him. When their hands brushed he didn't feel the same warmth he'd felt with Po, only a discomfort that made him yank his hand back like it had been burned.
"Thank you, sweetheart," the man murmured and Thame forced the smile to stay on his face. "You know, the bar is pretty empty today. How about you close up earlier and I'll take you back to my place?"
"I'm sorry, Sir. I can't leave the bar unattended," he apologized. And even if his boss wouldn't fire him for leaving early, there was no way that he'd actually go home with that guy.
"Oh, I'm sure you can make an exception for me, can't you?"
"I'm really sorry, Sir, but I can't."
Thame turned back around just in time to see Po push past the curtain and out of the room. His heart dropped at the sight and before he could think about it, he ran after Po, uncaring about the other man shouting after him. Outside, it was raining, a raging storm that plastered Thame's hair to his forehead in a matter of seconds. He squinted through the heavy rain, frantically searching for Po's silhouette among the flickering streetlights. Finally, he found him on the other side of the street, his jacket already drenched and clinging to his shoulders.
"P'Po!" Thame called out as he ran across the street. "Please, wait!"
To his great relief, Po actually halted in his step, turning around to look at Thame with his big round eyes.
"Thame, what are you doing here? The bar—"
"I don't care about the bar," Thame interrupted him, reaching out to grab Po's hand. Po's hand was so cold in his and Thame wanted nothing more than to wrap him up and make sure he stayed warm and comfortable forever. "I can't let you go. Not again."
Po's breath hitched, his hand flexing in Thame's and just like that all the words Thame had wanted to say to him came rushing out at once.
"The last few weeks without you were terrible. I couldn't stop wondering where you were, if you were okay, if…if maybe you found someone else to make you happy and that uncertainty almost killed me. And I know you probably don't feel the same way and that I'm being an idiot in even asking you but I was wondering if maybe…if maybe you wanted to go on a date? With me? Like together."
Thame felt breathless when he was done, his heart hammering wildly against his chest. His whole body was shivering and he didn't know if it was from the rain or the anxiety pooling in his stomach. Po didn't move, his wide eyes boring into Thame's with an openness Thame couldn't quite decipher. The seconds before Po spoke felt like the longest in his entire life and when he finally did, Thame almost stopped breathing.
"I would love to go on a date with you, Thame." Po smiled, an almost blinding smile that took over his whole face and made Thame's shoulders drop in relief. Po had said yes. He'd actually said yes. Thame felt like he was floating somewhere far above the ground with only Po's hand keeping him tethered to the ground. Is that what being in love felt like?
"Okay," Thame murmured, squeezing Po's hand, " Do you want to come back inside then? You know, to exchange numbers and stuff."
"Okay." Po nodded and Thame pulled him along.
He didn't care that he was soaked to the bone or that the other man was still waiting inside or that he might lose his job for abandoning the bar. As long as Po's hand rested in his own, Thame didn't care about anything else in the world.