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The evening is going, well, just as expected. Khaotung twirls a finger around the edge of his already empty champagne flute. He scans the crowded room for something. Maybe someone interesting to have a genuine chat with and not just boring small talk between wealthy people. All his eyes land on is the server making yet another round with a tray of drinks or snacks, offering the guests of the charity more expensive alcohol and sweet, fake smiles.
Khaotung’s phone sits heavy in the pocket of his tailored pants.
“You need to mingle with the crowd, otherwise you won’t be invited to these events in the future. They are crucial to your journey. We need sponsors.”
He pouts to no one but himself as the words of his manager echo inside his head. It’s not fair. Why waste half a day on an event like this where he has to somehow convince rich people into giving him and his talent a chance? He’s not allowed to drink too much, he shouldn’t be on his phone, he can’t even talk too much about his profession unless being asked about it. He could very well use this time to practice instead. The only positive in all of this is that he for once was able to dress up a bit and use the contents of his wardrobe that is not only athletic wear.
Just when he spots a woman around his age looking similarly lost as him and he wants to go over to her, a deep voice from behind him stops him in his tracks.
“Excuse me?”
Khaotung whips his head around and his jaw almost drops at the sight of the man before him.
“It is you! I wasn’t quite sure, I only saw a glimpse from the side. Good thing I came up to you. How are you doing?”
Khaotung blinks. And blinks some more while all words have left him. First Kanaphan Puitrakul, the upcoming actor and all around sunshine that everybody loves, is certainly not the person he expected to meet at an event like this. He’s under contract at Thailand’s biggest entertainment company and there’s certainly no need to cheek kiss for money, right? At the same time Khaotung also isn’t very delighted to see him again. Even if he’s very nice to look at, he has to give him that. Dressed in stylish, form-fitting clothes and a little colorful satin scarf wrapped around his neck instead of a classic tie which makes him look more boyish.
“Uhm, hi,” Khaotung eventually mumbles, clutching onto his glass harder. He should have gotten a refill. “Nice to see you again.”
It’s a blatant lie. First knows this too and lets out a chuckle while he secures the spot right next to Khaotung at the standing table. His head turns away for a second, then he’s already got two full glasses snatched from the next waiter, setting one in front of Khaotung. He flashes him his bright and pretty and infuriating smile. They raise their glasses at the same time, taking a sip without clinking first.
“All alone here?” Khaotung hears himself ask afterwards. Before First can answer the obvious jab, Khaotung’s eyes are already busy scanning the room for the actor’s on-screen partner Mix Sahaphap Wongratch. He only has seen him once before, but it’s very likely that he’s somewhere in the crowd.
It’s a surprise when First shakes his head and gives Khaotung an unreadable look. “No. It’s just me. And my manager somewhere with her friends.” He pauses and drinks another swing of champagne, emptying the glass promptly. “I don’t need to be seen with him stuck to my side all the time, you know?”
A sharp, almost insulting response sits at the tip of Khaotung’s tongue. He flushes it down. When he turns his head to scan First’s expression he’s once again met with a hint in his brown eyes he can’t decipher. It immediately brings back the memories of weeks ago, the memories as to why Khaotung can’t seem to behave around him.
He felt like an idiot standing there at the tennis court, waiting for First to wrap up taking a million social media pictures before they could finally continue where they had left off the day before. It was their last day practicing together and Khaotung had to admit that those five days in total were a waste of time - at least for him.
When his manager had approached him with the offer to coach an actor, he had already been skeptical. He’s an athlete, not a coach and there were far more important things to do than to give up almost an entire week of training just to give an outsider a little bit of insight into the sport of tennis and what it’s like dedicating one’s life to it. However, the large sum of money that would easily fund the upcoming competitions, equipment, accommodations and such had made Khaotung agree to it. He loved tennis, so he figured in the end it would be easy to gush about his passion and teach a newbie how to properly hold a racket so it looks passable on television.
He had quickly been proven wrong. The issue was not that First was a lost cause. Khaotung clearly saw that First regularly worked out, had a healthy portion of stamina and he at least had looked up the basics beforehand so it hadn’t been necessary to start from absolute zero with him. The problem was his character. He was outgoing, didn’t think too much about what was coming out of his mouth and he didn’t seem to notice that his jokes didn’t land with Khaotung at all.
“Last day, huh?” First greeted him finally, ten minutes of their practice time already gone to waste. “Should I have prepared a farewell dinner?”
Khaotung gestured at the court with his racket. “I want to see you repeat what we practiced yesterday, that’s all.”
First chuckled and held up both his hands. “Alright. Sorry that I’m the only one getting a little sentimental.”
“I’d prefer you rather get focused. I don’t think your team would appreciate it to come out of this training session still looking like a wobbly fawn.”
As they found their positions on the court, Khaotung was once again reminded that First looked anything but like a fawn. He was able to effortlessly switch between fore- and backhand, his movements looked swift but still fluid and to the untrained eye it would certainly pass to believe that First could be an athlete. What bugged Khaotung however, were his joyful laughs and that bright grin on his face whenever he managed to make a rally between the two of them last for a good few minutes. He lacked the grit. The spirit of endless hours of training that made every muscle in your body ache, even your facial ones. You wouldn’t even think about laughing with your entire being hurting.
Khaotung swallowed his bitterness. On the second day he had tried to talk at least a little bit about that passion, that almost dying need to succeed, but it had felt like First hadn’t really listened to him though he hadn’t interrupted him. He had smiled politely, emptied his water and then gestured back at the court. Khaotung was used to people not understanding him. But somehow this felt worse. Wasn’t it his job to make First portray someone like him? Someone who lives and breathes the athlete spirit.
In the end, he did what was asked of him and it was up to First now to do his job as an actor. He couldn’t care less if First was able to act out his part.
Khaotung opted to wrap up the training with a simple handshake and part ways just like that. As he was packing up his gear and wrapping a towel around his neck, First didn’t hand over the racket as easily. He stood there, sweaty shirt stuck to his broad chest, almost towering over Khaotung. That smile stuck to his face just like the soaked shirt.
“So, what about that dinner? My treat obviously.”
Khaotung almost pinched his finger in the zipper of the gym bag. He whipped his head around. A loopy, unknown sensation swirled in the pit of his stomach as he stared up into those brown eyes. Only a second later Khaotung found himself shaking his head. “No, thanks. I need to get going.”
First didn’t let him leave like that. He stopped Khaotung from taking his belongings by wrapping a hand around his forearm. “Come on, that’s the least I can do. Plus it’s already late. There’s no way you have anywhere else to be tonight, surely not more practice.”
Khaotung’s jaw almost dropped. And if that wasn’t the final nail in the coffin then it surely was First’s on-screen partner showing up a moment later and First immediately extending the invitation to him and the two members of the team he brought along.
Thinking back now, the worst part about it all isn’t that First misunderstood Khaotung’s profession that massively. It was the weeks of chaos that erupted on social media. Pictures of the two of them have circulated quickly since First liked or was indentured to post about his tennis coaching. Khaotung’s sister sent him some of the stories, but Khaotung quickly didn’t even bother to look anymore the more bitter he became about the whole ordeal. So it was quite the shock when his manager reached out to him afterwards and made him aware of the shitstorm that arose. Someone on the team mistakenly took a picture of the moment First asked Khaotung out for dinner and Khaotung’s shocked and sour face quickly became fodder for the actor’s fans to assume the wildest things. It made Khaotung laugh in absurdity while at the same time strengthened his decision to stay clear of people in the entertainment industry in the future.
So why is First by his side now? Khaotung is sure he’s aware that to be seen together will probably only lead to more chaos. He’d like to remind him that he doesn’t need to stay with him out of some weird obligation. However, First’s fingers dance around the pearls of condensation collecting at the rim of the shiny glass. Why is he nervous?
“How’s the training going?” he blurts out eventually.
Khaotung turns his body towards him, raises his chin and looks him square in the eyes. He needs to do something before they waste their time and energy just to exchange small talk and pretend like they have anything in common. There’s no contract anymore. “First, do you really want to know?”
First looks taken aback by Khaotung’s bluntness. However, he comes up with a reply that surprises Khaotung just the same. “I came up to you specifically because I want to know how you’ve been doing.”
Khaotung feels his heart skip a beat. Even more so at First’s following words. “I didn’t get the chance to apologize to you for all the chaos yet. So I’m really sorry, I'm sure it must have been hard for you to experience backlash like that. I just want to make sure that you know I appreciate your work a lot. You took the time to teach me about your sport and your way of life and even if you got paid for it, while I also get paid to use that knowledge now for my own job, I didn’t mean for it to end in that way.”
Both dumbfounded and shocked, Khaotung sucks in a sharp breath. He studies First’s expression meticulously. He only finds sincerity and empathy. And if he’s not mistaken, the slightest hint of sadness or disappointment? Even if Khaotung remembers in that moment that this could all be an act, because this is First’s profession, something inside his heart tells him that he’s being honest. He knows that First is not an evil guy at all, but he surely didn’t expect to ever hear from him again. Let alone speak a truthful apology, caring about Khaotung’s wellbeing after being torn apart on social media.
Apparently Khaotung lets the silence linger for too long and suddenly he’s being met with First holding out his hand for him for a handshake. “Please give me a chance to set things right, hm?”
“And how do you plan to achieve that?” Khaotung replies back while he’s already putting his hand into First’s firm and warm touch without thinking. Something tickles pleasantly inside his stomach. Probably still the bubbly champagne.
“You didn’t say no immediately so that’s already a relief.” First chuckles lightheartedly and pulls his hand back a moment later. “What do you think about repeating that dinner you didn’t join?”
“And leave this event? I think you secretly crave drama on social media if you believe that this is a good idea.”
Shortly First turns his head away. When his eyes return to Khaotung, there’s a pout on his lips and a pleading look in his gaze. “I just think this is extremely boring. These people are way out of my league, don’t you think so too?”
Khaotung shrugs with one shoulder. “Kissing rich people’s asses for money isn’t my preferred way of supporting my profession, I have to agree on that.”
“In that case, we have two options now: either we get drunk on champagne and cause a scandal that way or we will subtly leave this place and try to mend things between us while having dinner.”
“And then cause a scandal by being seen together again? Don’t your fans have something against that?"
Immediately First’s face shifts and his eyes become darker. It’s a side of him Khaotung hasn’t seen before. He only knows the bright sunshine boy that extrudes nothing but joyfulness. “I already fulfilled my obligation by being here and having gotten a few pictures taken. What I do with the rest of the evening is all my own decision.”
Khaotung has to swallow when First says these words with decidedness. So far, there’s never been a single occasion where he seemed unhappy about his profession and the consequences that follow. “So what do you suggest then?”
Before First has the chance to reply, a waiter passes by their table and wordlessly takes the empty glasses away. First looks after the man, lips once more pursed. Probably because he’s only collecting the glasses and doesn’t carry a tray with refills.
“First things first, I will get us one more champagne just because it’s free,” he says as he turns his attention back to Khaotung. There’s now a playful, almost triumphant smirk on his face. “Second, let’s get out of here. My place or your place, whatever you’re comfortable with, and then let’s order some food. That way we have privacy and can finally get to know each other without any interruptions. What do you think?”
Weeks ago it would have felt like a fever dream to end up getting a lift in First’s car and heading to his home together. Well, it feels like it anyway right now. Khaotung is still confused how quickly he demanded to be taken to First’s place. Is it really that much of a surprise though seeing how boring and pointless the event has been? Curiosity over how an actor like First lives has gotten the best of him. And as much as Khaotung hates to admit it, this time First’s charm seemed to have an effect on him. He’s somehow different tonight. Khaotung can’t tell if it’s because he’s free from his entire team circling around him or because he still feels bad about the whole ordeal and truly wants to mend things with him.
The streets that First navigates through smoothly pass by Khaotung completely as he is busy ordering food for them on his phone. So he lets out a little gasp when the car comes to a halt and finds himself in front of a house that is half a construction site.
“Don’t worry,” First is quick to explain as they enter through the front door that is still partly covered in protective foil. “Most of it is fully furnished. At least the important rooms.”
“You’re a home owner? Aren’t you around the same age as me?” Khaotung mumbles as he steps out of his shoes and is immediately offered a pair of brand-new slippers. Almost as if he’s the very first guest in this house. He suppresses the comment on how he expected First to live in an expensive penthouse like he imagines all the stereotypical celebrities to live in.
First scratches the back of his head and his gaze moves all over the place. “Well, I surely didn't pay this out of pocket. But let’s just say, it was important to me. To have a place on my own for friends and family.”
Khaotung does feel a pang of jealousy inside his chest, but it’s partly overshadowed by the fact that he had a completely different picture of First in his head. Sure, he’s extroverted and seems to get along with (almost) anyone so his friend group must be enormous. Somehow Khaotung thought he would therefore live in a more lively part of the city - and not in a quiet residential area where the neighbors plan to see their own kids grow up very soon.
“Would you like some water? Beer? Some other kind of soft drink?”
The kitchen that First leads him to looks unused. The beige colored cabinets are still shiny, the stovetop without scratches or other evidence of use. It almost gives off the vibes as if he’s visiting a model home.
“Drink?” First repeats his question as Khaotung’s eyes land on a dark wooden shelf with several cookbooks of all kinds of cuisines. He whips his head back towards First. “Uhm, just water please. I think I had enough alcohol for the night. Or for the month actually.”
First hums. Meanwhile Khaotung’s fingers itch to reach for the book about Neapolitan dishes. A moment later First is by his side and holds out a glass with a metal straw for him. “They are mostly for decoration now. I’ve been trying to get more into cooking, because I’m the worst at it. Some of them are from work trips, some I’ve been gifted by friends or even fans.”
Khaotung takes a sip of the ice cold water, then he gestures around the kitchen and the adjacent dining space. “What's keeping you from doing dinner parties then? It looks like you have everything you need.”
First shrugs and takes a moment to drink from his own glass, filled with some fizzy, pink lemonade. “Time to actually learn the skill?”
“We could have cooked something tonight.”
As Khaotung realizes what he just said, First is already raising an eyebrow at him. “A few hours ago you didn’t even want to look my way.”
Khaotung lets out a deep sigh and puts his glass down on the spotless countertop. Just as he’s about to explain himself, his phone rings. The food is here.
Instead of using the vast real wood dining table, First lays out their takeout order on his coffee table. Khaotung falls into the comfy sofa first before helping himself to a plate of everything.
“Was it a good idea?” First asks as he most likely spots the glimmering in Khaotung’s eyes over so much delicious food he rarely gets to eat.
“Mhm.”
“Are you on a performance diet? And that’s why you look like you’re in heaven right now?”
They quickly fall into a rhythm of asking back-and-forth questions about their jobs that are easy to answer. It feels like finally breaking the ice – something that should have happened weeks ago. Khaotung is kind of bitter at himself and how things went about in the past, because once First is all by himself he’s genuinely a great conversation partner. He doesn’t crack any jokes about Khaotung’s story on how he came to love tennis so much. He listens, asks meaningful questions that make it easy for Khaotung to open up. In return he offers a little insight into his job as an actor, also sharing the negative sides of the industry.
“No matter how many friends I make, it does feel a little lonely after all,” First admits. He empties the rest of his lemonade and then busies himself putting all the empty takeout containers into the plastic bag they came in.
Khaotung, now all relaxed into the sofa, a pillow in his lap, hums in understanding. “I get you. It’s hard to find someone who would want to deal with all of this. My situation isn’t really the same, but I also feel like no guy would ever want to put up with the traveling for competitions, training hours, and sinking all my money into the sport.”
A tingle travels down Khaotung’s skin as First lifts himself up from the carpet and comes to sit next to him. He’s close, so close that Khaotung imagines he can feel his warmth radiating, while also smelling a deliciously deep and sweet perfume on him.
First’s eyes roam over Khaotung’s face until he meets his gaze. “You want to make me believe that you don’t have at least ten people lined up wanting to date you?”
Khaotung blinks back at him. Then, out of nowhere, with no filter between brain and mouth, he replies, “You’re one to talk.”
A wide grin stretches on First’s lips, but Khaotung catches the blush spreading on his face simultaneously. His own heart is pumping fast now as he realizes that they are flirting. Is it the alcohol getting into his head? It was just a few glasses, so it can’t be, right? Turns out, he’s definitely not immune to First’s charm at all. Khaotung is not blind, he’s seen from the very first handshake they shared that First is extremely attractive. He was just so annoyed by his work personality and the task itself that made Khaotung believe that he’s not worth his time.
“If I’m being honest,” Khaotung finds himself saying even more things he should probably rethink before speaking them out loud. “I think if you wouldn’t put up such an act, all those jokes and your outgoing persona, you would have no problem finding someone to make those sacrifices for you.”
First raises his eyebrows in surprise. He lets out an offended gasp before he chuckles. “So that’s your impression of me, then? That’s why you couldn’t stand me?”
Somehow they circled back to the topic from before dinner.
“Couldn’t stand you sounds so harsh.”
“But it’s true, right?”
Khaotung brushes over the corduroy texture of the pillow he’s clutching to his chest now. “Maybe.”
More laughter falls from First’s lips and it sounds cheerful. He doesn’t seem the slightest bit offended or mad. “I think that’s another thing we have in common, you know?”
“What is?”
First scoots even closer and Khaotung has to swallow when he glides his hand over the fabric of the pillow, almost as if he’s touching him through the barrier. “Just like me, you don’t let people see the real you at first. While I want everyone to like me, you do the opposite. You push them away, you don’t let them come close.”
Before First can come too close and see the way Khaotung’s face starts to burn, he uses the fluffy pillow to lightly hit First across the head with it.
“Ow!” he cries theatrically while laughing some more.
“I didn’t come here to be psychoanalyzed by you.”
“Says the one who did it first!”
First fights him for the pillow then holds it above his head, ready to take revenge. The two of them are giggling like teenagers and Khaotung can’t stop thinking about how much more attractive First is like this. He holds his hands up to protect his head, but the pillow never comes down on him. Instead First clutches onto the cushion himself now, breathlessly grinning at him. It’s absurd. They are still dressed in their fancy clothes from the event, only taken off their jackets and they are doing a pillow fight instead of… well, what else is there that he wants to do at that moment? As First’s eyes fixate on him, gaze dropping down to his lips for just a second, Khaotung knows. He feels it even in the way his pulse is pumping. He only huffs out puffs of air as First puts the pillow aside and carefully moves into his space.
“So why did you come here then?” First whispers. Khaotung feels his hot breath on his skin.
But he doesn’t let First win so easily. He places a hand firmly on First’s chests and ignores the way he can feel his heart beneath his palm, beating the same fast rhythm as his own. No, he can’t falter so quickly when First still needs to prove himself some more. At least that’s what Khaotung is telling himself.
“How was the filming process for the new series? Did the training help make it look more realistic?”
It’s satisfying to see First being dumbfounded for a moment. At the same time Khaotung is glad he’s stalling for time, while also hearing that the effort he spent on teaching First was not useless after all. First is still sitting close to him, their shoulders touching while the pillow between them is gone now. He goes on to tell Khaotung about the first few weeks of filming. It soothes something inside of Khaotung’s mind to know that First listened to him after all.
Therefore it’s easier for him to speak more frankly about his life as an athlete in his twenties and what it feels like to practically spend everything on this sport when one doesn’t have the sponsorships since he started out way too late in life. First seems to understand Khaotung’s struggles to some extent.
It’s getting later and later, and it’s probably way past midnight already, but somehow they are not able to stop talking. Their voices get quieter over time, the only light comes from the indirect lightning behind the dark TV, bathing them in pale purple, and while exhaustion is slowly crawling its way into Khaotung’s body he doesn’t want this night to come to an end. Regret over having judged First completely wrong makes him want to stay for longer and longer, making up for the lost time.
After they circle back to the backlash they created on social media and First apologizes for the inconveniences he clearly hasn’t caused at all once again, a heavy silence falls upon them. For a while now Khaotung has been observing with a pounding heart how First’s fingers play across his thigh. He’s mindlessly tracing the seam lines of his pants, but it comes to a stop now. First’s face is painted with a conflicted and almost sad expression, his gaze lowered to a point on Khaotung’s chest. Khaotung rather wants to see him grin or hear him laugh again. So he doesn't think much when he slides his hand on top of First’s, a warmth pooling inside his stomach as he does so.
First slowly looks up at him. Then he smiles softly as he hooks his finger into Khaotung’s. “I feel like I dug my own grave choosing to get into this. I know it sounds like I don’t enjoy it, but I do. I simply want to have a connection with someone for once and not think about how that is going to affect my job.”
“How does your acting partner feel about it?”
“Mix?” he huffs out a chuckle that sounds just as sad as he was looking mere moments ago. “He’s, shit, I really shouldn’t tell you this…”
Khaotung rubs his thumb across the back of First’s hand. “You don’t have to.”
“No,” he backtracks immediately. “I trust you, but it’s just…”
Shocked into silence by that confession, Khaotung can only watch him fight some inner turmoil until he eventually lets his shoulders drop. “Mix has been in a committed relationship for years that he’s decided to keep secret. Which is not a novelty.”
Khaotung nods slowly, the information not as groundbreaking to him. He squeezes First’s hand a second time to signal for him to continue.
“There’s a lot of people like him in the industry. On the other hand you have those that are also couples off screen and then a handful of actors who find discreet hookups every now and then. And then there’s me.”
“You?” Khaotung raises an eyebrow at him.
First sighs deeply and the apples of his cheeks turn slightly pinker. “I’m not any of that. I don’t do one night stands. And I can’t expect a future partner to hide in the shadows for the span of my career. I wouldn’t want that anyway. I’m way too loud about the important people in my life. But it’s impossible to survive in this industry while openly being with someone who’s not your assigned partner.”
“Do people not understand that acting is your job, that what you portray on screen with your colleagues is not real?”
Unsurprisingly, First rolls his eyes and groans. “Like I said: I dug my own grave.”
Of course he’s right to some extent, Khaotung is not a complete stranger to what First is talking about. At the same time, he sympathizes with him, especially now that he knows that there’s more to him than just the act he puts on for all the other people around him. He’s longing for someone, just like Khaotung does. It's just another sacrifice on the road to do what they’re passionate about.
Carefully Khaotung slips his hand out of First’s and before he can protest, winds his arms around his broad torso. First goes stiff in his embrace at first, but eventually his body relaxes. Khaotung hooks his chin up on that comfortable shoulder, selfishly breathing in First’s unique perfume some more while rubbing circles across his back. First sucks in a deep breath, as if he’s preparing to say something. In the end, they stay like this for a while – no words needed to enjoy some physical contact. Once more Khaotung feels the prickling, warm sensation inside his belly and his eyes flutter close on their own.
“Sorry,” First mumbles after a few minutes and pulls away. “I feel like I unloaded onto you way too much.”
“No, it’s alright. You didn’t do that at all.” Khaotung immediately wants to grab onto First, prevent him from moving away. Thankfully he doesn’t scoot further on the sofa, stays pressed against Khaotung’s side. With ease he tangles their hands together again. Whatever on earth they are doing here – two strangers being so unguarded with each other – Khaotung really doesn’t want this to come to an end. For one night he’s able to have something he usually doesn’t even dare to think about. To bring comfort to someone while also being comforted the same way, connecting over the sacrifices they both have to make. That’s a rarity and it feels deliberating that someone for once understands.
As the minutes trickle by and First keeps on caressing Khaotung’s hand, it eventually has to come to an end. Time can’t be stopped. There’s a schedule to get to tomorrow, or today to be exact.
“What are you doing?” First immediately demands to know when Khaotung only moves a centimeter.
“We had dinner. So I think it’s time for me to leave, no? It’s getting really late.”
First’s eyes are wide. He looks like he doesn’t understand a single word Khaotung is saying, almost as if he’s speaking a different language. “You don’t have to leave?!”
Khaotung turns back around from where he’s searching the pockets of his suit jacket that was thrown over the back of the sofa carelessly. There’s a special kind of longing in First’s eyes that he’s detecting for the second time tonight. It immediately makes Khaotung stop any movement.
“I think I do, and you know that too.”
When First’s touch lands on his waist now, firmer than before Khaotung releases a quiet gasp. “Do I?” First asks.
Khaotung swallows. His heart is pounding as he turns his entire body towards First again. He takes a deep breath, contemplates a moment before saying his next words. “Didn’t you just tell me you’re not the type for one night stands?”
The silence that follows is telling. All the little touches, all the flirting, all the confessions about longing and loneliness are now being addressed way too bluntly. But Khaotung had to do it. He observes First, sees the way his gaze jumps around and his head is visibly working, thinking so hard to come up with something. And Khaotung hopes he does.
Eventually, a second hand is placed on Khaotung’s other hip and then First is there, front pressed to his back, his breath a gentle tickle against his neck. “Maybe I sound insane, but it doesn’t have to be one night if you’re willing to give me a chance.”
Khaotung chuckles breathlessly, his heart pounding so hard inside his chest now. Maybe First can even feel it through his back. He twists his head until the tip of his nose lightly graces First’s blushing cheek. Slowly he glides one hand across First’s while licking across his own lips. “Another one? Aren’t you asking for a little too much?”
“Please.”
Every voice inside his head telling him what he’s doing is insanity shuts up the moment he captures First’s lips with his own. It’s a kiss so full of sudden desperation but also tenderness that makes it hard for him to believe that they could have just parted ways like this.
From there on there’s no holding themselves back, as they immediately understand how well they fit together. First’s hands on his waist, tugging the shirt out of his pants. Khaotung kissing First’s upper lip while First is going for his lower one and his broad hands on his naked skin now.
There’s silent communication after First kisses and touches him until he’s out of breath and there’s truly no other option than to use the night to its fullest. They giggle like insanity has taken hold of them as they stumble off the sofa, First leading him towards the bedroom. There’s also no hesitation, no moment of backtracking when they rid themselves of all their clothes and fall into the heavenly soft sheets of the brand-new bed.
Khaotung feels safe like this, First appreciating his body, kissing him, caressing him, making him feel things he hasn’t felt in such a long time. He’s a gentle giver, eager to please Khaotung. And he lets him do so willingly.
Only when First is shortly tearing himself away from him to rummage through the bedside table, Khaotung can’t help but tease him once more. “Condoms, huh? I thought you said you don’t do hookups.”
First huffs out a laugh, that quickly turns into a gasp when Khaotung presses his entire body against his back, placing a kiss on the top of his spine ever so gently. When Khaotung glides his hands all the way from First’s muscular shoulders down his arms until he can take the unopened package out of First’s hands, that’s when he finds the ability to speak again. “Maybe I’ve been waiting for the right one to come along and finally make it worth the repurchase.”
This time Khaotung laughs in endearment. It’s quickly silenced by First taking control of the situation again and showing Khaotung how much more of a giving partner he can be. It feels all consuming, almost too much to comprehend for him. Khaotung has never been the one to even think about love at first sight, or feeling some type of immediate connecting with someone. But when First takes him, brings him to a state of pure desire, paired with freedom and feeling so cared for, it’s impossible not to believe that there’s something between them. Something that they really can’t ignore.
The night becomes endless. Even after a second round that is a mixture of making out languidly and moving their bodies together until they somehow reach another high together with whimpers and breathy moans, they still don’t want to fall asleep. Freshly showered and with a luxurious satin robe wrapped around him Khaotung sits outside on the terrace and enjoys the light breeze brushing through his hair. First lets the sliding door wide open to air out his bedroom as he joins Khaotung on the lounging sofa with two glasses of water in his hand.
“The sun is almost coming up,” he says, his voice deeper and raspier. It immediately makes Khaotung’s stomach flip again. He buries his face in the crook of First’s neck once he’s next to him, breathing in deeply.
A gentle, almost careful kiss lands on the top of his head some time later, accompanied by First wrapping an arm around him protectively. Khaotung only hums happily, too weak to do much else. Still, he doesn’t want to close his eyes.
“I need your contact details,” First continues whispering into the oncoming sunrise. “I also need to know when your next competition is going to be.”
“Why?” Khaotung chuckles and traces mindless lines up and down First’s arm. “You want to be there?”
“Of course I want to.”
Of course. Before Khaotung can shake his head and explain that it’s not as easy and that whatever kind of magic they created tonight will hardly be recreated so soon with their lives waiting for them once the new day comes, First already continues to speak his mind.
“I know it’s kind of insane, but you can feel it too, right? If you let me, then I want to be there for you. I really want to see where this could go between us. That is, of course, if you want to put up with everything that I’ve told you about my life tonight.”
“You make it sound like I’m the only one that has to suffer.”
First sighs and snuggles closer to him. Khaotung doesn’t think twice, immediately embraces him in his arms. He understands First’s worries, but at the same time he knows it’s not just his life that’s asking for sacrifices. However, as he holds First close like this, feels the connection that he never thought possible weeks ago, he’s suddenly not as discouraged anymore. An image of First accompanying him to one of his tournaments appears in his mind and makes him smile to himself. God, this is insane, to take a shot like this after a single night, but what else is he supposed to do? He can’t even bring himself to give into his exhaustion and let the night finally come to an end. So how should he step away from what could be the thing he always secretly longed for?
“I’ll send you my training schedule and the competitions ahead.”
First hums happily. He places the gentlest whisper of a kiss on Khaotung’s temple. “I’ll let you know my promotion schedule in return, sounds good?”
And just like that Khaotung imagines himself sitting somewhere in the audience of a movie theatre, watching the premiere of First’s new series, silently cheering him on. He absolutely has to take that leap of faith.
“Sounds wonderful,” he replies and lets his heart soar when he brings his lips towards First’s for a hundredth time for the night.
🤍🎾 a few months later 🎾🤍
The phone almost slips out of Khaotung’s sweaty hands as he reaches for it first, completely ignoring the water bottle his coach is holding out for him. The competition was, well, rough. But honestly speaking, Khaotung’s mind was constantly somewhere else. It still is. Kilometers away from the tennis court where Khaotung managed to somehow win the game for the third place, qualifying him for further tournaments across the country, his boyfriend was busy looking absolutely breathtaking at a premiere event of one of his colleagues. An invitation as a plus-one he had to cancel unfortunately.
“Drink something,” his coach urges and Khaotung finally does so as he switches his phone from do not disturb mode to flooding his notifications with everything he’s missed in the past few hours.
As he scrolls past the encouraging messages of friends and family, his sister also sending him a load of pictures that can only either be his cats she’s looking after or be from First at tonight’s event, he’s a little stunned to find that First himself hasn’t texted him at all – except for the cheerful message before his stylist arrived around noon.
Khaotung knows that First can get extremely busy and he never expects him to be available 24/7 – especially on days like today when he’s working late. However, something seems off about it. Over the course of their very fresh relationship of a few months, First has been his number one cheerleader, always the one to type out paragraph long texts before Khaotung has to play. So to not see anything beyond that text and the time stamp of the very brief phone call they had, it seems strange.
With his eyebrows pulled together, Khaotung tries to push those thoughts aside. There’s a plausible explanation for it, he knows it. It’s the adrenaline making him overthink a little too much. So he obediently drinks the water and protein shake his coach offers him next. Just as he’s about to draft a post for his social media account that he now regularly maintains for more sponsorships, a towel gets thrown over his shoulder suddenly.
“Eyes up here, babe.”
This time, the phone does slip out of Khaotung’s hands. He doesn’t even flinch to catch it. Instead his gaze shoots up immediately and then there’s First – right in front of him, dressed like the most gorgeous man in the entire world.
“W-What? What are you doing here?”
Not caring about the sweaty clothes at all, First embraces him in a crushing hug immediately. “Supporting you, obviously. You did so well. I’m glad I finally got to watch you play a competition in real time.”
Khaotung tears himself an arm length away, staring up at First who’s just beaming at him with pride. “You watched me play? But… what about the premiere?!”
“I left earlier, so I at least got to see your last match.”
And if that doesn’t take Khaotung’s breath away completely, then it’s First taking his face into his hands and placing a gentle kiss on his lips for every other competitor, coach, referee and supporter to see. Who cares about taking home that trophy? Certainly not Khaotung. He already won, having given First a second chance and being rewarded with so much love and support in return.
Later that same night, when they are having a celebratory dinner, Khaotung has the time to check his socials and send off the tweet he drafted earlier, all while First is in the bathroom. It shouldn’t come as a surprise, since they mutually decided to not keep their relationship a secret, but not really boasting about it either. Nonetheless. his eyes get a little teary when he sees that First has posted something, something about Khaotung during the competition.
Before First gets back, Khaotung snaps a quick picture of their dinner and doesn't think twice about putting it on his public story. Let the world see who has won his heart over after all.
🎾🤍
