Chapter Text
The first thing Por became aware of was weight. A heavy arm draped across his stomach. A warm face pressed into his shoulder. And a knee digging aggressively into his thigh.
Por opened one eye.
The ceiling fan spun lazily overhead, cutting the humid Bangkok air into rhythmic, cool slices.
Morning sunlight leaked through the gaps in the curtains, painting long bars of gold across the messy floorboards.
Teetee snored softly into his neck. Por stared at the ceiling for a long moment. Then sighed.
"You're drooling."
No response.
"Teetee."
Nothing.
Por reached up and flicked his forehead. Teetee made a wounded noise, wrinkling his nose but refusing to let go.
"What the hell?"
"Move."
"No."
"You've been crushing me for an hour."
"How do you know?"
"Because I've been awake for an hour."
Teetee groaned dramatically, burying his face further into Por's shoulder. The movement somehow made things worse, pulling Por flush against his side.
Por considered pushing him off the bed entirely.
Instead, he reached down and adjusted the blanket around Teetee's shoulders. The idiot always kicked it away in his sleep, only to shiver and complain about feeling cold later.
The room fell quiet again.
~
Outside, the city was already awake, the distant hum of traffic filtering through the glass. Inside, neither of them seemed particularly interested in joining it.
Por glanced down.
Teetee's hair was sticking up in every possible direction. There was a faint pink crease across his cheek from the pillow. His lips were slightly parted, breathing out soft, warm puffs of air against Por's collarbone.
For reasons Por preferred not to examine too closely, the sight made something warm and heavy settle in his chest.
Dangerous.
"You're staring."
Por nearly jumped, his heart skipping a violent beat.
"I thought you were asleep."
"I was."
"Then how do you know I was staring?"
Teetee cracked one eye open. A lazy, smug grin spread across his face.
"Creep."
Por shoved his head away.
Teetee just laughed, the low, raspy sound filling the room so naturally that Por barely noticed it anymore.
That was the problem.
Teetee existed in his life the way breathing did.
The way sunlight did.
The way gravity did.
Constant. Reliable. Expected.
Por could no longer remember what life looked like before him- not that he wanted to.
"Get up," he muttered, shifting his legs to finally break the hold. "We have class."
"We have twenty minutes."
"We need forty."
"That's future Teetee's problem."
"Future Teetee is an idiot."
"Present Teetee agrees."
Por rolled his eyes, but as he swung his legs over the edge of the mattress, a hand reached blindly from beneath the blanket.
Found his fingers immediately.
Held them.
Tight.
It was done as naturally as someone breathing.
Neither of them reacted. Neither of them commented on it.
Teetee had always been touchy, a creature made of physical affection and zero boundaries.
Por had always let him.
Simple.
At least, that was the lie Por told himself whenever moments like this happened.
~
The truth was a little more complicated.
The truth was that Teetee could hold his hand for hours and Por would still find himself wanting more.
The truth was that Por had spent years building a home inside a place he was never supposed to stay.
The truth was that some loves became so familiar that they stopped feeling like longing.
They simply became part of you.
Like blood.
Like bone.
Like a second heartbeat.
And perhaps that was why Por never confessed.
Because Teetee wasn't going anywhere.
~
After the classes, one would expect Teetee to go back home and rest. So he did exactly that, he went back to Por's home.
In the evening, the kitchen was alive with the sound of sputtering oil.
Por stood at the stove, his eyes half-closed as he flipped a couple of eggs in the pan.
He didn't need to look behind him to know Teetee was there.
A chin dropped onto his shoulder, heavy and familiar.
"Is there garlic in that?" Teetee mumbled, his arms wrapping loosely around Por's waist from behind.
"Yes. Now move, you're going to get splashed."
"I like the smell."
"Of the garlic or the oil?"
"Of you."
Por's hand hesitated on the spatula for a fraction of a second.
He forced his voice to remain flat. "Go set the table, philosopher. The eggs are burning."
Teetee huffed, letting his arms trail slowly down Por’s sides before he finally retreated to fetch the plates.
They ate from the same small table that Teetee had accompanied Por when buying it at a flea market during their first semester.
Without a word, Teetee picked out the cooked onions from his plate and dropped them directly into Por's bowl.
Por didn't even look up. He just ate them.
Later, as they rushed out the door, Teetee grabbed a black hoodie from the rack by the mirror.
"That's mine," Por noted, locking the door behind them.
Teetee pulled it over his head anyway, stretching the fabric, his head popping out of the collar with a grin.
"Mine now. Smells better than mine anyway."
He didn't wait for Por's reaction, spinning around to head down the stairs two steps at a time, leaving Por standing in the hallway.
Por watched the way the hoodie was slightly tight round Teetee's frame.
It wasn't a perfect fit. But it was the most natural one somehow.
Everything about them was natural.
They crossed lines every single day- lines that other friends drew with heavy, permanent ink.
But to Teetee, those lines simply didn't exist. He walked through them blindly, entirely unaware of the tightrope Por was walking just to keep them balanced.
They were closer than friends should be.
Oblivious. Safe.
Por followed him down into the shy, cozy warmth of the evening, a quiet smile tucked into the corner of his mouth. l
He had everything he needed right here. There was no rush. They had all the time in the world.