Chapter Text
Hill
"And why are you here again?" Fah asks me, giving me an irritated look.
"Coffee. It is my break and I am curious about the photographer who caught your eye. I missed him last two weeks when I was away." I say with an impassive look before sipping my coffee.
That makes him bristle slightly. I smirk into my cup. It is so easy to irritate my friend.
The bell over the cafe door jingles. And Fah straightens up. My gaze follows his to two guys walking in. Fah beams at the guy who is slightly shorter. He is obviously the photographer who caught my friend's eye. He is cute in a quiet way, totally Fah's type. Now I can see why my friend is so taken.
But the one beside the photographer is the one gets my attention. He is dressed fashionably, sunglasses on which covers his heart shaped face. The way he carries himself is loud without even speaking, a direct contrast to Typhoon's soft steps. He is grinning.
I find out his name is Easter. Or Ter. After the round of introduction. His voice is cheerful, bright and warm... he is the complete opposite of me. And I find myself drawn to him. I don't know why but I always had a soft spot for such personalities. My ex was an example. Then he dumped me because he said I was too cold for him. He couldn't accept me for me.
I quickly sip my Americano, hiding the faint heat creeping up my ears.Of course, Fah notices. That asshole notices everything.
I say little as they begin talking. It is obvious Ter is here to check out Fah for Typhoon's sake. He is a protective friend too. That just gets me more interested.
So when Fah asks me to walk him out, I don't reject it, although I want to smack my friend for being annoying.
==
Ter
"Mm. I will walk with you." The other doctor, Hill, says.
I am a little surprised. He hadn't said much the whole time, just sitting there like a block of ice with that blank expression. But now he is actually offering to walk me out. Now I know Typhoon is in reliable hands, I am going to leave or I will be late for my shoot.
"Thanks." I smile at him, sliding my sunglasses back on. He does not answer, just gets up and walks beside me, hands in his coat pocket.
We step outside the cafe, the late afternoon air warm against my skin. Hill keeps his gaze straight ahead, his strides calm and measured. I try starting a bit of conversation as we make our way toward the main road. I am not one who likes silence. That's why I love living with North.
"So... you're also a doctor?"
"Mm."
"What kind?"
"Cardiology."
"Wow, that sounds tough. Bet you're busy all the time."
"...Yes."
That is it. One-word answers, voice flat as the sidewalk we are walking on. I should feel brushed off, maybe even irritated. But for some reason, I am not. Maybe it is because he does not seem unfriendly, exactly. Just quiet. Cold on the outside, but not unkind.
I steal a quick glance at him as we reach the main road. He has a sharp jawline and nose, along with the way his dark hair falls neatly into place. He is... quite handsome, actually. Handsome in a way that doesn't even try, that doesn't even care if anyone noticed. I find myself smiling.
We stop at the curb and I lift my arm to flag down a taxi. Hill stands beside me, silent as ever, his hands still tucked in his pockets. He could leave but he does not. I guess he is a gentleman too. For a second, I want to tease him, just to see if I could crack that stoic face. But the taxi pulls up too quickly.
I turn to him. "Thanks for walking with me."
He gives a short nod. No smile, no wave. Just that calm, unreadable expression.
I slide into the backseat of the taxi and shut the door. As the car pulls away, I catch one last glimpse of him standing there on the curb, quiet and still against the noisy city street.
I lean back against the seat, chuckling softly to myself.
Hill may act cold, but there is something oddly adorable about the way he carried it. I have never been interested in relationships although I like guys. I been too busy pushing my modelling career that I have rejected interested parties.
This is the first time someone catches my eye. But... well, my career still comes first. And he will be my friend's future boyfriend's friend. Okay, way too complicated. I guess, just admiring his looks and cute demeanour would be enough.
==
Hill
The roar of engines fills the night air, the stadium buzzing with anticipation from the invited only guests. This is a highly private race, only for the rich and the worthy. Arthit's race nights are always like this, loud, chaotic, adrenaline pumping. Not really my scene, especially after a shift at the hospital but we have placed bets. It is one of the things we do for fun and to support Arthit.
"So... Ter." Fah slides beside me and hands me a glass of wine. We are up at the stands, a private area Arthit's dad usually reserves for us.
I roll my eyes but accept it. "I saw how you were looking at Typhoon's friend earlier. You interested?"
"Just focus on your own little sheep and leave me alone." I mutter, sipping my wine and keeping my eyes on the race track. Arthit's race is about to start. Fah chuckles and of course Johan chooses this moment to butt in.
"What are you two talking about?" Johan asks as he sips a glass of scotch. He had appeared out of nowhere, wearing a suit even though we're at a race track. He must have come from the office.
Fah, traitor that he is, immediately spills. "Hill met Typhoon's friend. Name's Ter. And guess what? Hill here couldn't stop staring."
"I did not." I say flatly.
"Oh please. Ter is totally your type. You only date guys like that. Remember James?" Fah points out and I narrow my eyes at the mention of my ex.
Johan arches a brow, lips curving into a knowing smirk. "Interesting."
"Not interesting." I mutter.
"Relax." Johan says lazily, "I can find out more about him if you want." Right, with Johan's family background he can find out anything with a snap of his fingers.
"Don't bother." I say.
Naturally, Johan bothers as he pulls out his phone to call his assistant. Seriously, my damn friends are like gossip girls.
Ten minutes later, while Arthit's race is heating up, Johan reads off his phone with a smug look on his face. "Name's Ter. He is a model. Not top-tier, but he's good. Booked some gigs. Got potential. His social media accounts are under easterrr."
Fah whistles. "A model, huh? Hill, you have got taste."
I press my lips together. They are too loud, too nosy. My pulse, however, betrays me with a quickened beat.
While they are finally distracted and cheering for Arthit on the track, I slip my phone out. I type in the name Johan mentioned. His Instagram profile pops up, vibrant and full of smiles, the opposite of my own dull feed. I only post when my friends or family ask me to. I used to have photos with James which he insisted I post. But I deleted them when we broke up a year back.
I don't follow Ter with my real account. Instead, I create a new dummy one, hit the follow button, and scroll.
A shot of him backstage, adjusting his sunglasses. Another candid where he's laughing so hard his eyes disappear. My thumb lingers over the screen longer than it should.
Fah whoops at Arthit overtaking another racer. Johan claps, amused. None of them notice me.
I lock my phone, slip it back into my pocket, and fix my gaze on the track like nothing happened.
But inside, my thoughts aren't on the race.
They are on Ter.
==
It's rare for our schedules to align, but somehow Johan, Fah, and I managed to be free at the same time. A small miracle. Arthit is still asleep from recording music last night, so it's just the three of us for lunch.
I know Fah deliberately chose this restaurant because it is near his little sheep's office. We are chatting idly over food, when Fah suddenly perks up. I follow his gaze, and my chest tightens.
Typhoon has just walked in. Beside him are two guys. One is familiar and catches my attention, Ter. The other, I don't know.
Ter. Bright as always, carefree and has the kind of presence that makes people look twice without even trying.
Fah nudges me under the table. "My sheep is here with your sunshine. It's your chance."
I shoot him a look but Fah is already waving them over. Typhoon beams as soon as he sees Fah. They come to our table. Ter greets us warmly, and Typhoon introduces the third friend, North. He seems friendly, easygoing. Of course Fah invites them to join.
Ter takes the empty seat beside me. My pulse betrays me with a sharp kick, but I keep my expression unreadable, hands folded neatly on the table. Across from me, Typhoon sits beside Fah, their eyes locked on each other like no one else exists.
The conversation starts up easily enough. Ter and North do most of the talking, bright voices filling the gaps I and Johan leave. I add a few polite words where necessary, but I would rather listen. Obviously, Johan is the same. I notice his gaze keeps darting to North. I smirk inwardly.
Ter's laugh is genuine, unguarded, and every time it slips out, I feel my chest grow tight.
An hour passes quickly. Typhoon announces he has to return to work, and the three of them get ready to leave. They wave goodbye before slipping out into the afternoon sun.
The silence that follows is heavy until Fah turns to me. "Seriously, you didn't ask for his number? It was a great chance!"
"...I couldn't." I admit quietly, surprising even myself. I glance down at my glass. "He was talking."
Fah blinks, then smirks knowingly. But before he can say anything, I add, "I will find other opportunities."
That seems to satisfy him. For now.
I turn my gaze to Johan, who hasn't said much all lunch. "What about you?" Fah beats me to the question. "Why do you keep staring at North? You don't stare at people unless they owe you their life."
Johan's brow furrows. He swirls the scotch in his glass before answering. "...He looks like Narin."
The name makes both Fah and me go still. Johan rarely speaks of him. His first love, the one he lost in that car accident years ago.
"They are not identical." Johan continues, voice quieter now. "But the similarities... the way he moves, too. I never believed in doppelgängers until now." He lets out a quiet chuckle, as if to lighten his own words.
Fah and I don't reply. Some wounds aren't meant to be pressed.
Instead, I sit back, watching Johan's composed mask crack just slightly. It feels strange, seeing him vulnerable. Almost as strange as the way my chest still beating with the echo of Ter's laughter.