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May you be happy always

Chapter 4

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(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Twenty-two  

 

"So, you excited to be back in Bangkok?" Fong asks from a few thousand kilometers away, his voice coming in loud and clear from the phone currently balanced between Tine's ear and shoulder.  

Tine is contemplating putting the other man on loud speaker as he unpacks his belongings but the speaker on his phone isn't great. He really should buy a new one since he's had the same phone for four years but he's currently broke- broker than when he was a student even. The deposit on his tiny new apartment alone had significantly dented his savings.  

"Yeah, I guess." is his non-committal answer as he moves the picture frame on top of his work desk an inch to the right.  

The picture is of him and P'Type taken a month ago in the Singapore Botanic Gardens. In it, Tine looks happy with Type's arm wrapped around his shoulder, flowers, in full view, right behind them and sun shining on their grinning, bright faces. He had been genuinely happy there, in that moment- more carefree than he had been in the longest time.  

(Beautiful Singapore with its calm gardens and glimmering beaches was his Paris, his sanctuary.) 

He moves the picture another inch. The placement still isn't right. He crosses the room to the small side table next to his couch and places the picture on it instead. There, better.    

"Uhuh. Miss me already, don't you?" Fong asks as Tine is making his way back to the box that he's currently unpacking.  

"Ew. No. I miss Singapore, kaya toast and so many other things. Your stupid face? Not so much." he answers derisively- trying to mask the truth with his tone.  

In all honesty though, he does miss Fong and his stupid, annoying face already, but that admission would do neither of them good. Fong worries enough as it is.  

"Rude. Your face is rude." the voice on the other end of the line snarks back.  

"That doesn't make any sense. Besides, you'll be back in Thailand in December and you'll be bothering me with your stupid face again, in person, in no time."   

"Mean. When did you get so mean?" Fong whines. "But, fair enough. You sure you'll be fine without me though?" 

Tine grabs and inspects another bubble wrapped item from his box as he contemplates his answer. He overwrapped whatever it was till it was unrecognizable, like he does for all important and fragile things. 

(There was a time, not too long ago, when he was too hurt, angry and heartbroken to ever think he could be fine. And a time after, when was just as fragile, just as easy to shatter that he had wrapped himself in denial and distractions- bubble wrapped to the gills, that looking back from the mirror was a stranger.) 

He sets aside the unknown item for unwrapping later. At this rate, he'll finish unpacking next year. But, oh well, it's not like he has any other plans at the moment.  

The long pause before his answer would have annoyed anyone else but Fong has always been a good friend- always patiently waiting for Tine to figure it out. 

By now, Fong knows him enough to worry- has gotten pretty good at reading Tine's intentions and predicting Tine's actions before Tine can even execute his plans to completion, knows Tine's fears and triggers and all about his running. Tine's done it enough times now to make himself awfully predictable.  

(Singapore was his sanctuary- his escape. He could have stayed.)  

But perhaps, he still has it in him to surprise. He chose to come back after all. 

And, while the choice wasn't easy and there's still a tiny tinge of longing for a place he could have easily fallen in love with and stayed, as he looks around his tiny new apartment and his gaze once again lands on the photo, on the small side table next to his couch, he's reminded why he returned in the first place.

There are people here to come home to.  

For them, he ought to be brave.   

(But Bangkok, Bangkok is home.) 

He's done running. 

"I'll be fine." He answers. 

------ 

 

In their final year of university, him and Fong were lucky enough to be accepted into the internship program of one of the best law firms in Southeast Asia. Singapore was a dream, a new adventure, an escape from all he had lost. And Tine, well Tine was only human. A human with a heart that was still aching and eager to go someplace else, anywhere else but here in Bangkok.    

(In Bangkok, lay the ghosts of a pair of boys at the playground and a promise of forever.)  

Eventually though, he missed home.   

 

 

Of the many things Tine missed about Bangkok- the chaos, the smells of skewered meat grilled by street vendors, the people with their nice, smiley and welcoming faces and the family and friends he dodged for the better part of almost three years- it’s the traffic, mind numbingly slow on a weekday, that he missed the least. And so, for his first day at the new office, he gets up earlier than usual to avoid the morning rush and gaining a reputation for being one of those people- the ones who are embarrassingly late on the very first day. He isn't an Aekaranwong if he isn't on time or ridiculously early.  

The office on the ninth floor is eerily silent when he arrives. With only a handful of sleepy-eyed officemates scattered around the room and the lights not fully turned on, the office is creepy, cold and unwelcoming. 

Tine sets up his desk quickly, grabs his phone and wallet and decides to leave his tiny cubicle in search of coffee. It'll be his second cup of the day already but there's no one around to lecture him on the dangers of heart palpitations and hyperacidity with his brother on a business trip in Phuket and Fong still in Singapore.  

(Once upon a time, there would have been someone else to remind him but that person isn't here- is still lost to him somewhere at sea. 

Tine tries not to think of him too much.) 

The walk to the little café across the street, he spotted on the drive over, is short and as he enters through the door, the wonderful aroma of coffee and pastries bombard him immediately. The place is homey with mismatched chairs and tables and comfortable looking couches and he likes it immediately- can already imagine spending his breaks on one of those couches, listening to soothing music and eating cake.   

He takes out his phone and starts going through his work emails while he's waiting in line to make his order. The place is full of other sleepy-eyed strangers who are no doubt dreading the start of the work week and sluggishly going through monotonous days in corporate or government. He'll be one of them soon- less shiny, new and enthusiastic, more bone deep tired and world weary. He dreads the thought but accepts it. Such is life- death, taxes and etc.    

He's reading a couple of welcome emails from the company when, out of nowhere, a loud argument breaks out from the beginning of the line. A middle-aged man in a cheap looking suit is arguing with a young barista. He can't hear the details of the argument from where he is standing but he can clearly see the man gesturing wildly to the cup in his hands. Entitled assholes are everywhere, he thinks. The asshole is holding up the line, voice getting louder and Tine catches: Not my order, Unacceptable, Manager. The barista timidly starts looking around, checking order slips and showing it to the angry customer but the other man doesn't stop complaining. The argument goes on for another couple of minutes and the other people in line are getting impatient.

Tine contemplates just looking for another place to get coffee but he's already wasted twenty minutes and if only the entitled, selfish prick could leave, they could all just get on with their day.  

Just then, as if in answer to all of their collective prayers, the customer standing behind the asshole taps the man on the shoulder. The man in the cheap suit turns around to face the brave customer and Tine watches the exchange with trepidation. He can't hear what the other guy is saying but there's something oddly familiar about him that raises the hairs on Tine's back. (He'll recognize it, as his sense of self-preservation, later.) 

They exchange a few words. The angry customer leaves with a bright red face that Tine hopes is in shame. The other customers in line cheers for their savior. Tine, himself, claps quietly with the rest of the customers. Thank you, God, for whoever that is.  

Momentary drama over, they would have all gotten on with the rest of their day unencumbered- the exchange forgotten and drowned with spreadsheets and document reviews and more work. Tine would have gotten coffee, gone back to his eerily silent office, gone through orientation and the motions of his first day on the job without remembering or giving another thought to the encounter. 

But he's never been that lucky.  

Their brave customer, their savior, seemingly surprised by his grateful audience, turns around quickly to acknowledge their cheering. He gives them all a little self-satisfied smirk and one dorky thumbs up before he turns back to the barista waiting for his order and Tine (never lucky) feels his stomach drop and his breath catch in his throat in horror.    

The man had turned for barely a minute but Tine would recognize that smirk on that annoyingly beautiful face anywhere- even from the back of the line, about ten other odd strangers between them.   

(Even, across the sea.) 

Right there, standing next to the counter, now familiar back turned to Tine, and giving the smiling, grateful barista his order, is the man Tine tries not to think of too much.   

Tine is out the door before Sarawat can even pay for his order.  

 

 

When he's safely on the elevator of his building, empty carriage affording him privacy, he allows himself the freak out he didn't have publicly in the middle of the tiny coffee shop. He asks the invisible and immovable forces that be- how and why  and prays loudly to all of the other gods and his ancestors that Sarawat hadn't see him. If the security officer in charge of watching the camera in the elevator sees a mad man talking to himself, well Tine is sure he's seen worse and weirder. 

He barely gets anything done for the rest of the day. His supervisors chalk it up to first day jitters.  

(He blames the distraction on the confusing whims of fate and the universe. And, of course, Sarawat.) 

------ 

  

He doesn't let himself dwell for too long on the one-sided encounter.  

He's busy, anyway. There are new hire orientations, basic training, getting-to-know-you activities with the rest of the staff to attend, paperwork upon paperwork to accomplish and submit, research to do on the firm's ongoing cases, and a handful of people to inform of his return. He doesn't have time to think about Sarawat (not that he let's himself. Three years is enough time already).  

Outside of work, he busies himself with his new apartment and unpacking.  

His tiny new apartment, with one bedroom but without a washing machine, is bareboned with white walls and a patch of yellow water-stained ceiling right above the even tinier kitchen. Cheaper and smaller compared to his place in Singapore but with massive windows that look out onto the city, it's adequate. It's his.  With some decorating, he could learn to love it.      

He's unpacking another set of never-ending boxes when he sees it.  

Tucked under a pile of junk, in a box labelled miscellaneous, is a velvet pouch- inside it is a plastic flower ring he'd thought was long lost (forgotten and yet waiting to be unearthed). 

He knows he shouldn't. But he can't help it.  

He wonders what would have happened if Sarawat had seen him. If Sarawat had recognized him, standing near the door, in his blue suit. Would Sarawat have left that counter to say hello? Would he have said something like: Tine, what are you doing here? When did you get back? You look good. It's nice to see you.  

He wonders what would have happened if he hadn't run out so quickly. If he'd waited till after Sarawat had finished getting coffee and sat down. If Tine had braved coming up to him instead and said: Sarawat, what are you doing here? What are the chances? You look good. We should catch up, sometime.   

And, he wonders what would have happened after. If a hello could lead to something more- to, arguably, something better. If a hello could somehow turn back time.  

Stuck as he is looking at a remnant of a time that was simpler and kinder- alone (in an apartment he'd once dreamed of sharing with no one else but Sarawat), it doesn't seem to matter.  

In the end, he's always come up short- too scared, still.            

If for the rest of the week, he avoids getting coffee at the shop across the street- his sugary, indulgent and fancy coffees replaced with the awful sludge in his office's pantry, and he spends his breaks holed up in his cubicle, its fine. He's fine. Really. Why wouldn’t he be?  

He's not. But there's no one here to tell him. 

------ 

 

On Saturday, his parents visit him at the new apartment. It's not unwelcome, per se. But it definitely feels like an ambush.   

They show up at his door at ten in the morning- all smiles, hugging, we missed you, gifts of groceries and guilting. Tine cooks while his parents judge his apartment silently. If they think anything bad of it, they say nothing. They also don't say anything about the mounds of boxes still left unpacked. He'd gotten derailed the night before and well, he owns a lot of things (more than can probably fit into a one bedroom. But he'll worry about that later).  

Instead, they say they are proud of him and he feels lighter, happier. He'd almost forgotten why he'd worried about seeing them in the first place.    

But then, inevitably, they remind him.  

"So, have you talked with Sarawat yet?" his mother asks while twirling her pasta around a fork.   

Tine chokes on his mouthful of pasta, taken aback even when he shouldn't be. He pounds at his chest with a shaky fist and takes a sip of water to clear his throat. It doesn't quite work. It feels as though something heavy is blocking his airway and preventing him from speaking. He coughs to dislodge it.  

"Umm... No. I havent." he answers, finally. His mother levels him with a look- I can see right through you- with one raised eyebrow. He can feel his face heating up in embarrassment. He feels all of twelve again. 

Once, when he was twelve, she'd caught him trying to sneak outside through his window. Sarawat was sick with the flu and their parents had collectively forbidden Tine from coming over, lest he get sick. When she asked him where he was going, he'd told her he wanted to sleep outside, under the stars. She'd given him the same look and the following day she'd driven him, red faced and still suffering from embarrassment, to Sarawat's house.  

He never could hide anything from her. Never mind that he's telling the truth. He hasn't spoken to Sarawat but he has seen him. Sorta. She doesn't need to know that, though. 

"Oh. I thought you might have..." she smiles pleasantly, deviously up to no good.   

"Anyway. He's doing great, in case you were wondering."  

He isn't. He is. Which is why he says nothing- letting his silence prompt her into continuing. 

"You know he's working for the Ministry of Foreign Affairs now? He's an analyst but his mother's been trying to convince him to take the foreign service exam in a couple of months.”  

"I heard, he wants to quit and work for an NGO instead." his father chirps in. Tine turns to him but his father isn't looking back-suspiciously intent on his plate of pasta.  

Sometimes, he forgets that his parents aren't soulmates. That once upon a time, his father had loved and lost someone else, that he'd mourned his brilliant violet thumb mark turning white. But then, there are moments when they are so in sync, moments where they align and conspire against him that it feels as if they were the same person.    

"Yes... well. His mom isn't too happy about that but she says if that’s what he really wants to do then they'll support him." she says, now looking down at her plate too.  

They speak about Sarawat as if Sarawat was only a childhood friend he hadn't kept in touch with. As if Sarawat wasn't more (more than a friend but less than a soulmate), as if Sarawat hadn't broken his heart (and Tine hadn't run away to a different country to forget him).   

"You haven't run into him. Have you? The Ministry of Foreign Affairs' office is in the building across from you." his father says not at all subtle.  

Of course, it is. The universe is funny like that. It isn't.  

"Oh, and by the way, he's still single."   

And there it is.  

No, his parents aren't soulmates. But they'd met and like a fairytale straight out of a book, they'd fallen in love- regardless that they weren't meant to be. They had their happy ever after- a nice wedding with white lilies, two sons and a house with a garden.  

(Soulmates don't always equate to love or happiness. Tine.) 

In those strange, trying times after the breakup, he could see the guilt in their eyes. As if, it was all their fault that he dared love someone who wasn’t his. It wasn't entirely. He was just as stubborn as they are.  

But, he supposes, that was three years ago. Three years of running from Sarawat and Bangkok and them and they're back to this: to clinging to the idea of him and Sarawat, to daring Tine to keep hurting and loving and fighting.  

He doesn’t bother saying anything else, just shovels more pasta into his mouth and they sit in pregnant silence for the rest of lunch.  

------ 

 

It takes Tine another week before he realizes he's being ridiculous avoiding the café and holing up in his cubicle during lunch. Monday, he enters the tiny, homey, shop with mismatched chairs, in the hopes of fulfilling his craving for a sugary, indulgent and fancy treat.  

He hopes against all hopes, he doesn't run into Sarawat again.  

But he's still not lucky.  

He's turned away from the counter, cup of steaming, hot coffee in hand, trying to find a place to sit when he spots a familiar face in a corner and startles so bad, he almost drops his coffee.  

Sitting a couple dozen feet from Tine and busily typing away at a laptop, is Sarawat. He's wearing a dark green button down with a tie, black suit jacket hung on the back of the seat in front of him, light brown hair still fluffy but slightly longer now than Tine remembers, face scrunched in concentration as he stares at his screen and he looks almost the same as he did three years ago and yet not. His skin had cleared up, baby fat on his cheeks gone and previously skinny frame replaced with some bulk. He looks older, just a little bit more mature, but still so handsome- it isn't fair.      

Before he knows it, his feet are moving in Sarawat's direction without his permission. He makes it three steps forward before his brain reboots and he decides. I'm not ready. He retakes the three steps backwards slowly- hoping, praying to the gods and his ancestors that Sarawat would continue to be preoccupied and oblivious to his presence. He angles himself towards the doors and coffee still fortunately in hand, shuffles, runs out of the shop. 

He hadn't really meant to do it. He hadn't meant to run, but he's finding that with Sarawat old habits really do die hard. 

------ 

 

So, you talk to Sarawat, yet?   

Oh god, why is everyone asking that? No. I haven't. I've been busy.   

Uh-huh. You haven't run into him, by any chance?   

...  

Your mom says he's working in the building next to ours.   

The hell? Why are you and my mom talking? Are you a spy?  

 

Fong? Are you spying on me for my mom?  

Don't forget the party on Friday. Pear would like me to remind you that she may be tiny but she can still take you.  

What the hell? You and Pear too?  

There's a group chat. Don't worry about it.    

------ 

 

The rooftop bar, they all decide to meet at, is loud and packed with wild, already drunk, young adults, celebrating the end of a work week, but Tine spots his crowd almost immediately. He spies Man dancing awkwardly with an amused looking Earn on one side and Tine's brother watching them impassively on another. He catches Ohm and Phuak trying to chat up a group of girls, who are way out of their league, a few feet away. He sees P'Fang, Green and some cheerleaders in a cluster in the middle, playing a drinking game that will undoubtedly, eventually doom them all. Pear, who's probably been watching the entrance to the bar since they all got there, waves to him excitedly as he approaches. He gives her a shy smile, in return.  

One by one, they spot him and cheer.   

(There's a noticeable absence, somewhere in the middle. But for now, he's grateful.) 

These are the people he's avoided for the better part of three years- all because they were privy to a life he'd once shared with Sarawat. All helplessly tangled up in their strings, it was impossible and unbearable to separate one fate from another. They were never just his people.  

But as they welcome him, as if nothing had changed, as if time had stopped when he'd left and he'd returned to everything just the same- a picture frozen in time, every piece in the same place he'd abandoned, no anger on their faces, as if they'd understood and forgiven him already, he stops feeling the guilt he's been carrying for a while.  

(He wonders if it'll be the same when him and Sarawat finally meet again. He hopes so.) 

"There you are. We were starting to think you wouldn't come." Pear says when he gets close enough and she reaches for him, tiny arms wrapping around his torso, her head tucking itself to his chest. 

 

 

If, at the end of the night, after they've all caught up and drank their fair share of the bar's booze, Man comes up to him to hug him goodbye and secretly slips a little piece of paper into his pocket, that he only finds much later, when he's home and about to put his clothes in the hamper, and the note brings tears to his eyes, well he can't really blame them.   

The note contains no name, just a number and the instructions: 

Call him, please. He's waiting.        

He can't fault them for trying.  

------ 

 

The way fate and the universe works is this: they place soulmates in each other's paths.  

The way soul marks work is this: the marks pull and pull at two or more people till the distance between them closes.   

The way humans work, sometimes, is this: they fight and conspire against fate, the universe and soul marks.   

------ 

 

Tine musters up the courage to text Sarawat a month after he'd returned, a handful of one-sided run-ins with Sarawat at the café later.  

(There were exactly three other run-ins. All three times, Tine had snuck away unnoticed. At least, that's what he hopes.) 

He carefully composes the message, contemplates deleting it more times than he would admit, reads it back to himself, reads it to Fong, makes sure there's nothing in the message to read into and after several hours of feeling pathetic, he hits send.  

Barely a minute after, he gets a response. 

There's this tiny, kitschy café near my office- you'll like it. Wednesday at five?  

He suspiciously feels like someone is playing with him. He tries not to dwell on it for too long.      

------ 

 

The café is luckily or unluckily, depending on how their meeting goes, not full of people. There is no line at the counter and there are several unoccupied seats and couches that there is nowhere for Tine to hide should he need the camouflage of a crowd to make an unnoticed escape.    

Sarawat spots him immediately as he enters the café. 

"Tine!" he calls out, a touch too loud, and with a raised hand, unmindful of disturbing the peace inside the café and strangers looking at him in annoyance. Years later and Sarawat still has no idea that he's never needed to do much of anything to be noticed.  

(Sarawat still has no idea that Tine would search for him in any room that he enters- halfway hopeful, halfway scared.)    

Sarawat smiles at him, small and encouraging and Tine tries to remember how to breathe. He gathers what little courage he left his apartment with that morning and makes his way to Sarawat's table.   

"Hi, Wat." The nickname slips out before Tine can stop it. "Um... it's been a while." he continues as he pulls back the chair in front of Sarawat and takes a seat.  

Sarawat just looks at him for a minute without saying anything and Tine resists the urge to fidget under that considering gaze.  

After a minute, Sarawat seems to snap out of whatever thought he’d gotten lost in and replies. "Yeah, it has. You look good." 

"Thank you. You look good too..." Tine returns, trying to maintain eye contact, trying to sound light and breezy and not nervous, "How are you doing?"  

"Um... wait. Sorry. Here, I got you a drink." Sarawat pushes a cup of something to Tine and Tine stifles a hysteric laugh at not having noticed the two drinks before. "Hope you don’t mind. I got you some iced chocolate,"  

He doesn't mind. He doesn't need any more caffeine with his nerves already shot to hell. Tine takes a sip from the straw and lets the sweet drink calm him a little. This is still the same Sarawat he's always known and he shouldn't be so nervous. 

This is just coffee. This could mean whatever you want it to. He thinks with a voice that sounds suspiciously like Fong.   

"To your question, I'm good. Work is good. I'm working at the Ministry of Foreign Affairs just across the street. You?" Sarawat asks. 

"Oh cool. Cool. Wow. That's... great. I'm good too. I'm with a law firm and its also just... across the street. Happy coincidence, isn't it?" he stutters out sounding awkward to his own ears and hoping Sarawat doesn't notice. 

"Uh-huh." Sarawat replies smiling.  

Any other time and Tine would wonder, would hope. But, for now, he doesn't let himself- it's early days yet. He looks down at the drink in his hand and stirs it around with the straw.    

"Do you enjoy working in government?" 

"Some days. It's not exactly what I imagined I'd be doing but it's something, at least. How's working for a law firm? " 

"Not too bad. Busy. Chaotic. But I love it." 

"Of course. You're living your dream, Lawyer Tine. Next stop, Judge Tine." Sarawat says with a laugh- not unkind, not mocking in any way, just delighted, honestly happy for Tine.  

It fills Tine with a twinge of something- melancholy, maybe? They’d shared their hopes and dreams with each other, once. They'd pushed each other's ambitions and planned their lives around each other, once.    

Tine shoves the feeling back into the box, at the back of his mind, where he tries to keep a lid on all thoughts that lead nowhere.  

"Aside from work. What have you been up to?" Tine fills the silence.  

"Oh... nothing much. Eat. Work. Sleep. Repeat. Boring stuff. Some weekends, I play football with the guys. Man and Boss are still terrible at it. Better than they used to be, but still terrible." 

"You still play guitar?" 

"Occasionally. Not as much as I used to. There's this bar, near my apartment, I play there sometimes when I feel like it." 

They make small talk, filling up spaces in between sentences and awkward silences and sips of cold drinks- coffee and chocolate, and it’s a struggle. There are things Tine already knew about Sarawat, updates to his life that friends already let slip at one point or another, things that Tine already knew before their friends and family had to tell him. Their friends and family aren't exactly subtle with their meddling. Tine isn't exactly succeeding at not thinking about and not, ever so slightly stalking Sarawat on social media. But they keep at it, going through the motions, making conversation, pretending this is something it isn't. From the outside looking in, they were just a pair of old friends- catching up after a long-time apart, life having simply gotten in the way.     

But they aren't- not ever just a pair of friends, not even when they were little (there's a little plastic flower ring to prove it).  

The conversation goes on for a while, they cover the pieces of each other's lives that they'd missed being a part of- three years' worth in a single afternoon and before Tine knows it, the sky outside the little coffee shop turns purple. Soon, the sky will turn pitch black. Soon, whatever this is will be over and he doesn't know where to go from here.    

There's still an ocean that Tine refuses to be the first one to speak about- an ocean Tine isn't sure how to cross without feeling naked, vulnerable- insides all exposed. It festers between them- a certain heaviness that Tine refuses to touch.  

(Like: the breakup that broke his heart. Like: soul marks that will never match. Like: Sarawat's Pam- the soulmate, he's known Sarawat's always wanted and now has.) 

"Why didn't you call me? Before, I mean. You've been back in Bangkok for a month." Sarawat asks and Tine doesn't bother asking how Sarawat knows. His tone is light as if he weren't asking anything important but Tine feels the pressure of expectation anyway. And he hopes, foolishly.  

"I've just been busy. New work, new apartment. I thought about calling. It's just been ummm... you know, busy. Lots of things left to unpack."  

He looks down at the drink he's been nursing like a glass of scotch for an hour and stirs the melted ice water into the remaining chocolate. He takes a small sip to avoid looking into Sarawat's eyes. The drink is almost tasteless now. He can't bring himself to care.   

"I tried calling, you know. A couple of months ago. When you were still in Singapore. I heard you might be coming back soon and I just wanted to... anyway, P'Type refused to give me your new number." Sarawat says sounding tentative, looking at his own empty mug, his admission hanging in the air between them and Tine wonders what it all means. 

"I wasn't sure this was a good idea." Tine looks up from his drink to say it, trying for neutral not heavy with implications, with shared history and pain but if Sarawat can be honest, so can he. 

"What changed your mind?" 

"I don't know. I'm still not entirely sure this is a good idea."  

But I missed you and I thought of you- all of the god damn time.   

"Okay. That's fine.” Sarawat says as if he were expecting Tine's answer, as if he'd prepared for it already. He pauses to stare at Tine and Tine is a butterfly pinned under his contemplative gaze. "Have dinner with me? Saturday night, if you're free."  

As if Tine could answer anything else. "Okay." 

------ 

 

Hey, Tine.   

Hi, Sarawat.  

It was good seeing you the other day.   

 

Saturday still  work  for you? I haven't seen you at the café since Wednesday. Just worried work's gotten you busy again.  

Oh... yeah. About that. I was actually going to call you to reschedule.   

Ah. Can I ask why?  

It's nothing much. There's just this big case and my boss needs help with the initial preparation. I'll be doing research all week. I'll need to come in for the weekends too.  

Oh, well. No worries. We can go for dinner next time you're free.  

Thank you. I'm sorry. This was all so last minute. I was really looking forward to dinner.  

Don't worry about it. I'll see you soon. Good luck on your prep work. I'm sure you'll do great.   

------ 

 

Tine doesn't come to the café the entire week after that either. He goes back to spending his breaks holed up in his cubicle doing research and generally being unapproachable. 

It's not that he's actively avoiding Sarawat after they had coffee. It's not that he's having second thoughts about going to dinner after he'd already said yes. It just so happened that the case came out of nowhere and that their schedules misaligned. 

If Tine is happy that this gives him more time to prepare himself mentally for another conversation, he isn't sure he wants to have, well that's no one's business but his.   

If Sarawat still texts every day for the entire week and Tine still answers like he isn't physically avoiding Sarawat, well Sarawat appears to be none the wiser and that's fine.    

------ 

 

Sarawat sends him coffee and cake from the café, across the street, that is quickly becoming Tine's favorite. Tine finds it on his desk along with a note: Don’t forget to eat, Nuisance!  😀  

Tine bumps into Sarawat while Sarawat is running out of the café two days later. Sarawat gives him a quick smile hello and tells him he's running late for a meeting before he's bolting out the door looking haggard and tired. Tine sends him a sandwich and an energy drink along with a note: Worry about yourself, asshole!  😀  

And it's almost normal. Like they're friends again, like they're picking up where they left off- minus the relationship and the subsequent heartbreak that they both refuse to acknowledge.  

Tine thinks it's great- better than before and this is fine. Being friends again is just fine.  

Maybe this time, they won't make the mistake of mixing together friendship and love. Maybe this time, they won't hurt each other again. Maybe this time, it'll last because they won't be lovers, they'll just be friends (and friends lasts longer than lovers and if they’re careful- really careful this time, well-). 

Only, as Tine sees a lunchbox on his desk the following day, the smell of homemade chicken curry attacking his senses and he eats it and it's not horrible and it makes him wonder when Sarawat learnt to cook when before he'd managed to burn fried eggs, and he reads the note that says: Prepared with love by Chef Sarawat. P.S. I'll always worry about you, Nuisance, he knows it's a lost cause.        

The truth is- one that's brought into startling clarity and contrast and in spite of the many people Tine has encountered throughout their three years apart: Tine's never loved anyone as much as he's loved Sarawat.  

So yes, while he's scared and confused and running is an itch under the skin, a bad habit he's picked up after Sarawat  that resurfaces when he least expects it, he's also accepted the fact that he wants Sarawat. He still loves Sarawat (maybe always). 

And it hurts- the running, the hiding, the not seeing Sarawat even when he desperately wants to. 

So, he tries. 

------ 

 

They finally get to it, two weeks after coffee. The night of their dinner date (It's not a date), Tine's a mess of nerves. He's still scared but also foolishly hopeful, both unsure of where this is all going and yet knowing where he hopes it will go. 

There's a life boat in the horizon. He ought to stop thinking of metaphors- there are too many to keep track of already. 

Expectations and possibilities had kept him up for most of the night before, but he conceals the bags underneath his eyes with makeup, puts some product on his hair to somewhat tame his messy curls, grabs a white linen jacket from his closet and makes his way out the door into the slightly chilly Bangkok night. He'll worry about everything else later, for now, he just has to resist the urge to run away and actually show up at the restaurant.  

Sarawat, in a slick black suit, is already waiting at the table when he arrives. Tine feels somewhat underdressed, in comparison, in his linen jacket, untucked light blue shirt and white pants. It does not help that the restaurant Sarawat had picked for their date is a fancy sushi place. Is this a date? Tine wonders, again.  

"Hey” Sarawat says as he stands up to greet Tine. Sarawat smiles at him softly as he pulls back Tine's chair for him and it makes Tine blush, makes him feel off-kilter. This feels like a date. Tine sits and tries not to notice how good Sarawat looks in his suit underneath the warm, soft lighting.  

He looks like a prince- like something straight out of a dream. Not Tine's dreams, no. In Tine's dreams, Sarawat is sometimes hazy and out of reach, sometimes harsh and unyielding as he pushes Tine away. Tine used to wake up from those crying. He doesn't dream them now as often but he still holds onto that terror like it was yesterday.   

"How did you find this place?" Tine asks, shaking himself from the thought, willing those feelings to subside.  

He looks away from Sarawat and looks around himself instead. The restaurant is dimly lit with wooden dividers to separate tables- it's private and intimate with soft music and not too many people. It's romantic. There's a sushi bar on one side with a chef entertaining some couples. Tine tries to pay them no mind. Because, this isn't a date.  

"We brought a couple of diplomats here months ago." Sarawat hands him the menu and he is embarrassed to feel relieved even though he knows he shouldn't.     

"Oh. That's nice." Tine looks down at his menu, hoping his voice doesn't give him away. He distracts himself with perusing the menu for a few minutes, settles on a plate of salmon aburi sushi and spicy tuna rolls for sharing. When he puts the menu down, Sarawat nods at a lady standing next to the sushi bar. 

"How's Fong?" Sarawat asks after the attendant has gone to hand the chef their orders.  

"Enjoying the night life in Singapore. It's a good thing the university let us graduate remotely last year. I swear, if his parents hadn't threatened to sell off all of his things and turn his room into a gym, he'd stay there indefinitely. He'll be back in Thailand in December." 

"Is he going back to Chiang Mai?"  

"No. The firm doesn't have an office there so he'll be moving to Bangkok,'' Tine says, reaching for the glass of cold water next to him and taking a sip. "He'll probably just go home to Chiang Mai for a few weeks to pack the rest of his things and visit family."  

"Oh. That's good. I take it he's excited to be joining the law gang in Bangkok." 

"I guess... well he isn't exactly too happy to be moving to Bangkok. He'd probably prefer Chiang Mai or Singapore or somewhere else but he'll go where the firm is." 

"Hmmm... sounds like he really fell in love with Singapore. Is it as nice as people say it is?" 

"It is. It's not too different from here but it's nice ... slightly less chaotic." It's peaceful. You weren't there. Tine doesn’t say. "The food's great. You should go, sometime. You'll like it." 

"Maybe... for now, I'd much rather stay here." Sarawat smiles slightly and looks at him with something. It makes the fluttery feelings of hope rush back a hundred-fold and Tine tries to squash it. 

Thankfully dinner arrives and they tuck into their sushi and Sarawat moves on to lighter, less loaded topics. He asks things like: how was your week?  And what does the new apartment look like?  And Tine answers. Tine talks about the tiny apartment that he's now beginning to love, about the work that is difficult but fulfilling and everything he's ever dreamed about. He talks about his parents' upcoming anniversary and their plans to go abroad to celebrate. 

They talk and talk about nothing at all and it's familiar and normal and like old friends getting to know each other again and it's fine.  

Except, it's not what he wants or needs.   

"Where's Pam?" Tine asks after Sarawat has regaled him with the story of his own trip to Malaysia last year. 

Sarawat doesn't flinch or fidget, like Tine thought he would, when he answers. "Still on her tour of Asia. She's soaking up culture and enjoying the cold weather in South Korea at the moment," Sarawat pauses, considers Tine and after a beat continues. "with her boyfriend." 

Sarawat doesn't elaborate further, only says it so casually- without a hint of guilt, anxiety or nervousness, as if they were talking about a common friend and not his soulmate vacationing abroad with someone else.   

Tine doesn't know how he's supposed to feel about that. 

Of course, he'd known about her. He'd been told about her years before that it's no surprise that she exists somewhere- now no longer a faceless, nameless, distant worry.   

There was a voice mail, a couple of years back, a drunken Sarawat confessing that he'd met someone he thinks might be his soulmate. There might have been something else in that call but Tine hadn't listened for the rest of it- stuck on a lonely, eternal loop of "I met someone." And "She might be mine." He'd deleted the recording from his phone without really thinking about it. He thinks about it now- what else might have been said on that message.  

It doesn't mean he isn't taken aback by Sarawat's casualness, though. 

"You let your soulmate ride off into the Korean sunset with another man?" Tine inquires hesitantly, more suspicious and careful now that he used to be.     

"Well... yeah. She's free to do what she wants." Sarawat replies.  

Is that why you're here? She didn't want you?  Tine thinks miserably but not unkindly.   

"She knows where my heart is," Sarawat continues. I used to know, for sure, where it was too. But that was before. Tine thinks. "and she doesn't mind." For how long? She's yours and you're hers.  

Tine looks down at his plate, at the few pieces of sushi left, untouched. He pokes at one with a chopstick but doesn't pick it up to eat it.  

"Just like that?" he asks disbelieving and yet so softly, Sarawat might not have heard it.  

"Yeah." Sarawat answers like it's nothing, like he hadn't pushed Tine away, once, for an unnamed promise of forever with someone else, like he hadn't pushed Tine away for the woman now vacationing with someone else.     

And Tine should be mad. He should be madder at the callousness- being pushed away and now being helplessly pulled back. But, he's not. Anger at the unfairness of it all was the reason he went to Singapore. Acceptance and fragile hope, that there was something left to come home to, were the reasons he returned.    

"What are we doing here, Sarawat?" he asks just to make sure. 

"You know I never stopped loving you, Tine." Sarawat answers so assuredly, imploring Tine to believe there is no other truth, except: Sarawat still loves Tine.   

But Tine, well he isn't as sure. It's not as simple or as easy as Sarawat wants him to believe. (They've both got soul marks and scars to prove it.) 

------ 

 

At the end of the night, Sarawat drives him to his tiny apartment, walks him to his door and says good night, Tine. Sarawat lingers at the door for a moment, looking as if he'd lean in for a kiss, like he used to do when he'd taken Tine home all those years ago. 

Tine says nothing except good night, Sarawat as he closes the door in front of the love of his life. 

He doesn't see Sarawat's pained but hopeful expression as he touches the door and makes his way to his car and Sarawat doesn't see or hear Tine's crying as he leans his back to the door and sinks to the ground.      

------ 

 

See, the thing Tine tried to forget is this:  

Exactly a year after they broke up, Sarawat showed up unannounced at Tine's apartment in Chiang Mai. He'd carried nothing- not an armful of plastic flowers, chocolates or gifts, not a guitar to serenade and win Tine back with, not luggage to indicate a desire to stay for tonight, tomorrow or the next, next day.  

There were no grand gestures or a desperate plea to return from a foolish, foolish, weak-willed boy. 

Instead, Sarawat returned the flower ring that Tine had purposely left on Sarawat's bedside table the day he left. (There was no need for a ring for a promise they couldn't keep.)  

Sarawat said without words, having pressed the flower ring to Tine's palm, that he still loved Tine. Sarawat had said he was sorry, that he made a mistake and that one day he hopes Tine forgives him. He said, with his eyes full of longing and regret, that he wanted Tine back. He said that he would wait till Tine was good and ready, as he'd closed Tine's fist around the ring and kissed the back of Tine's knuckles.  

Come back to me. Come home. When you're ready. I'll be waiting.  

And Tine was weak. And Tine had missed him and Tine had wanted so badly to pull him in, kiss and makeup and forget everything bad that ever got between them. Fuck fate or soul marks or forever. So, he had, for a single night, forgotten. 

Sarawat had left in the morning but not before he'd gotten Tine's answer.  

And Tine, helplessly pulled back with a dangled promise to return to a time that was simpler and kinder, where being in love was all that mattered, had promised, in return, to come find Sarawat again. 

A month later, Sarawat had left a voice mail that Tine had promptly deleted and Tine had changed his number.  

Several months later, Tine was on a plane to Singapore, fervently wishing to forget them all. 

Another year later, and Tine, still doesn't know how to stop running. 

 

But then, he'd promised, hadn't he?

------ 

 

Tine, I'm sorry to call so late... um...shit. I don't know what to say. I... didn't think this would happen but I- I met someone. She might be mine- my soulmate or whatever. Fuck... I think she could be but I'm not sure. Listen, Tine, I didn't touch her mark. It doesn't matter. I meant what I said before. I still love you and I'll be waiting for you, as long as it takes. Come back to me, please.  

------  

 

There are plastic red roses outside his door on Sunday with a card that says: 

Morning, Nuisance.   

He wishes he could say that it was too little, too late. He wishes he could tell Sarawat to stop, that he'd dreamed of this, that he'd waited long enough, that Sarawat should have done this a long time ago and gone after him instead. He wishes he could tell Sarawat that he'd spent every moment in Singapore waiting for Sarawat to show up at his door. Something. Anything. He wishes he could tell Sarawat that he'd been devastatingly disappointed, before, and he hasn't completely forgiven him just yet. 

But in reality, he can't turn back time and he can't dwell on rewriting their history and what he really wishes he could say is: don't hurt me again, this time.  

------ 

 

The café is full of people when he sees them, sitting in a corner, Sarawat's head thrown back in laughter at something she says. Pam is looking at Sarawat with adoration in her eyes and she's even more beautiful in person than in all of the pictures Tine had seen of her on social media. She looks at Sarawat like Tine used to and Sarawat looks at her like he used to look at Tine and it hurts more than Tine would like to contemplate in the middle of a crowded café.  

They look good together and they should. After all, they're soulmates.    

The soul mark on his arm burns- just like it did that night Sarawat had pressed his thumb to it and no light or relief had come.  

He runs. 

------ 

 

Hey, I didn’t see you at the café today.   

 

Pam visited. She's back from her trip.   

 

It would be nice for the two of you to meet.   

 

What do you think, Tine?  

------  

 

"So... you wanna talk about it?" Fong asks not looking up from his controller.   

Tine is eating cheese puffs with chocolate ice cream in Fong's living room while watching his friend blow up the enemy's base. It's oddly satisfying watching the gore, pieces of people flying everywhere after the explosion.  

"Not really." he answers with a mouthful of ice cream. The ice cream has melted somewhat and he struggles to find solid pieces of it to shovel into his mouth. He looks at the tin in his hands unhappily and it gives him no answers to his predicament- only judgement. What are you doing here?    

"Fuck." Fong exclaims under his breath seemingly letting go of trying to make conversation in favor of paying attention to where he's shooting. The enemy has him pinned alone in some back alley and it doesn't take long till his character is dead. The screen fades to black- 'Game Over' flashing in red.   

Fong exits the game and turns to face him. "You want to watch a movie?" 

He doesn't want to and he doesn't really want to do anything else other than eat ice cream and watch Fong fail at his game.  

"Not really." he repeats.  

Fong gives him a concerned look and after a minute asks "Not that I don't appreciate you visiting. But what are you doing here, Tine?" 

He's not exactly sure and that's exactly what he replies "I'm not sure." 

Tine remembers seeing Sarawat and Pam at the café. Tine remembers Sarawat telling him he and Pam should meet. Tine remembers being confused and scared and not answering Sarawat's messages. Tine remembers getting on a plane the following weekend and now he's here, in Fong's apartment, in Singapore.

It had been a knee-jerk reaction to what would have been a tragic situation but he doesn't regret it. He hadn't run to Singapore, per se, this time. He'd run to the friend who was there for the worst of it. He'd run to a friend who understood what he'd been through with Sarawat, who'd been there to hold his hand and let him cry on his shoulder that first time. It just so happened that that person was in Singapore.   

Fong gets up from his perch on the floor next to the coffee table and goes into the kitchen. He's holding two glasses of water when he returns and hands one of them over to Tine. Tine accepts it gratefully and Fong sits back down on the floor in front of him. Fong's back is turned to him and his friend grabs his phone to idly browse through social media. After a few minutes, he sighs like he's steeling himself for a difficult conversation.  

Tine looks to the door and contemplates making another escape which would be difficult seeing as he's thousands of kilometers away from home. 

"You know, a long time ago, I liked someone with a soul mark." says Fong, carefully. "She was the prettiest person in my class and I thought I was in love with her. Scratch that. I was, probably, in love with her. I thought one day we'd end up together and get married. I had it all planned out, in my head." 

He pulls up a girl's account on IG and turns to show Tine a picture. The picture is in black and white and the girl is smiling- not directly at the camera but at the person behind it. "We were good friends but she never really saw me. When I confessed, she'd apologized... said she liked me as a friend but she was waiting for someone."  

He takes a deep breath and offers Tine a small sad smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes. He looks back at the phone in his hands and continues scrolling through the pictures. "I was crushed but I got over it, after a while. I figured, since I didn't have a mark and she did, that it was never going to work out anyway."   

He says it so casually that anyone else would have had a hard time catching the tiny note of something painful in his voice but Tine hears it, recognizes it and aches with it.  

"I never thought to try and fight for her because I wasn't strong, Tine. I wasn't brave enough to try. Not like you were. I was scared and I kept thinking... I couldn't compete. I had nothing on her soulmate."  

He taps on another picture and shows it to Tine. The girl is standing next to a man and showing off a ring to the camera. The caption below says: Yes. A thousand times. Yes. Tine's eyes burns and waters but he refuses to let the tears fall.  

"She's getting married next year. That guy, she's next to," Fong points at the man. "her fiancé... he isn't her soulmate." 

Fong closes the app, places his phone on the table and turns back to look Tine in the eyes. "They all tell us soulmates are easy- automatic forevers thrown into your path. And we get scared, insecure or whatever. And some of us don't fight. Not against it. Not in spite of it." Fong's eyes speak of regret and Tine can't- can't look any longer.  

"It's a mistake not to..." Fong trails off, voice soft. "Because no one ever said, for sure, that soulmates meant true love."  

He knows. He's always known even when Sarawat wasn't certain. 

He turns back to look at Fong and Fong smiles at him, small, sad and encouraging. 

Love is a choice, soulmates aren't.   

"And maybe one day, you'll regret it. If you're lucky, it'll be worth it anyway." 

It's the answer he's looking for. It's not a guarantee of anything, not like soul marks or a love written in the stars, but it's hope.  

------ 

 

Fong sends him packing the day after.  

In the waiting area of the airport, just before he gets on his flight, he turns his phone back on.  

There are eight missed calls on his phone and more than a dozen text messages from Sarawat begging him to come home. 

------ 

 

When he gets back to his apartment, he sends Sarawat a message: 

Would you like to start over?  

Sarawat replies: 

Yes, please.  

Without any more thought or doubt or fear:  

Come by my apartment, tonight.   

------ 

 

The knocking outside the door is loud enough to wake the dead and Tine worries about his neighbors complaining for only a minute before he goes to answer it. Tine opens the door and standing outside, looking disheveled and out of breath, like he'd ran all the way from his apartment to Tine's, is Sarawat. 

Before Sarawat can say anything, Tine holds up a finger to the other man's lips and with a smile says. "Hi, I'm Tine Teepakorn Aekaranwong. I'm needy, a mess and I tend to run away. I'm not your soulmate." 

He moves his finger away and Sarawat stares at him, confused. Then, abruptly, he smiles and he laughs- loud and pleased. 

"Hi, I'm Sarawat Guntithanon. I'm an asshole most of the time and I'm madly in love with you."  

And they kiss. And its quick- a barely there press of lips. Like a first time. 

------ 

 

Epilogue

 

The bouquets of artificial white lilies litter the entire venue and Tine spares a single moment to appreciate their beauty before he spots, standing at the end of the isle, in a black suit jacket and white bow tie, the man he's about to spend his entire life- the next hundred years if his mother and the flowers are to be trusted- with.  

The music starts slow and sweet as he steps onto the carpeted isle and the guests turn and watch but he doesn't notice. All he can see is that beautiful face, lovelier than their white lilies, smiling at him, in marvel, as if the man cannot believe his luck and Tine cannot help but to smile back.  

There are tears in his eyes and his palms are sweaty with nerves but those warm brown eyes hold his as he marches closer and closer and nothing else matters- not fate and the universe, not their matching black thumb marks and not their shared painful history or their many varied monsters.  

Because, in a minute, he'll reach the end. In half an hour, they'll be married and maybe it won't be for forever- not like a soulmates kind of love is, but as he walks to the love of his life and later stands, in front of the altar, next to the only soulmate that he's ever wanted, he remembers, now, that it was all worth it in the end.  

"Hi, my nuisance." Sarawat whispers low next to his ear. 

"Hi, asshole." Tine answers back, shoving his shoulder lightly and pouting.   

The minister clears his throat loudly to catch all of their attention and continues. "We are gathered here today..." 

 

  

 

 

 

 

  

Notes:

And that's a wrap, finally! I apologize for taking so long to finish this but I got distracted with work and stuff. Also, it took me a long time to figure out how to end this happily when I left them so broken in the last chapter. Oh well, we got there in the end.

I hope you like it.