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There was a man watching him from across the club.
His mouth turned upwards in a smirk when they made eye contact. He tilted his head. A few strands of dark hair came loose with the movement, and Puth found that he couldn’t look away from them, somehow entranced.
Someone reached out to smooth the strands back, fingers trailing tantalisingly along the man’s skin. Without breaking eye contact, he grasped their wrist and pressed a lingering kiss into their palm.
Puth’s attention flickered over to the other person, who threw their head back in laughter that he couldn’t hear at this distance, with such loud music playing from speakers arranged around the nightclub. They pressed the man back into the leather couch, framing him with their thighs, and he smoothed both hands over the curve of their lower back. His eyes were dark, amused. He tipped his head back against the couch, and the lights outlined his handsome features in red.
A glass was held out to him. Puth accepted it with a murmured thanks.
Joe settled an arm around his shoulders and absently toyed with Puth’s hair. He always did that to signal that he was interested in going home with him tonight. When Puth sipped at the whiskey, still watching that man across the nightclub, Joe sighed and briefly tugged on his earlobe, showing his displeasure that Puth was not really paying attention to him.
Joe leaned in to brush the tip of his nose softly along Puth’s cheek, then the pulse point at his neck. Acting on instinct, Puth moved to accommodate him, holding the glass at a safe distance so that Joe could have kissed down to his collarbone without worrying about liquor spilling over his back.
He didn’t, though, instead whispering into his neck so that only Puth could hear.
“I wouldn’t get involved with him,” Joe advised.
His breath was warm against Puth’s skin. He adjusted the hem of Puth’s shirt, half-tucking it into his jeans, always quick to complain that Puth never dressed fashionably enough to justify his playboy reputation, yet just as quick to go home with him if there was no one else who caught Puth’s interest.
The man was watching them with an almost predatory expression. Puth drank another mouthful of whiskey, savouring the warmth that spread through his chest, and fisted a handful of Joe’s hair.
Joe laughed and played along, reaching out to undo the top button of Puth’s shirt.
“He’s even worse than you,” Joe went on. “He and his friend have a points system. Truly shocking. Ten points for a virgin. Five points for a celebrity. One point for anyone else. They’ve been breaking hearts all around Bangkok. I’ve been warning the innocents to stay away from him.”
“Do you warn them to stay away from me?” Puth asked.
“No,” Joe told him cheerfully. “You’re a good first experience. You give out your LINE ID and respond to their messages afterwards. You’re sweet about it. He’s a heartbreaker. The kind of casual lover who puts his clothes on and leaves without even a kiss goodbye. He’s gone before the sun rises.”
That didn’t sound too bad. One night, no strings attached. No expectation that Puth would call him again. No misunderstandings about sex somehow meaning that they were in a romantic relationship.
Joe kissed his cheek and went to speak with other friends. While he was gone, the man came to sit beside him at the bar. He was wearing a leather jacket cropped above his slender waist, Puth noticed. A silver earring threaded through his ear, catching the light. There was a lipstick mark at his jaw, and Puth was tempted to reach out and brush it away, then tip his head back and kiss him breathless.
The man smiled at him, amused.
He didn’t say anything. He reached into his pocket, movements unhurried like he had all the time in the world. He took out his phone and tapped around the screen.
Then he held out the phone, which was a much more expensive model than Puth could afford.
It was open to the list of personal contacts.
Puth accepted it, typing out his own phone number and adding it under his name. He hesitated for only a second before taking a quick selfie. The nightclub was so shadowed that he was barely visible, and he realised now just how many buttons Joe had undone, his green shirt billowing out halfway down his chest. Still, it would be enough to remind this man which number to delete later.
The man was still watching him with interest.
Puth handed back his phone and saw how the man smiled at the selfie that he had taken. His heart beat a little faster, which was strange—he had hooked up with many people since moving to Bangkok. There was no reason that this encounter should be any different.
He shook off a vague sense that he was about to make a mistake and held out his phone, too.
The man leaned in before raising the camera. He very nearly rested his head against Puth’s shoulder. He was wearing an expensive cologne and the barest hints of makeup, his eyes subtly lined and his mouth a pretty shade of red. He tapped out his details and then returned the phone with a disarmingly sweet smile.
That was how Puth first learned his name. It was displayed above the contact number and that red-lit selfie, with the rows of alcohol bottles behind them in clearer focus than their actual faces.
Kaeng.
Puth soon realised his mistake, somewhere around Kaeng taking off that leather jacket and caressing his cheek before leaning in to press their mouths together.
It honestly shocked him how compatible they were. They hardly needed to speak. Kaeng would move and Puth would meet him there wordlessly, his mouth parting so that Kaeng could kiss him even more deeply, his fingers undoing buttons right before Kaeng slid his hands underneath the loose fabric. He leaned his weight into him before kicking off his jeans, and Kaeng supported him like it was nothing, pressing hot kisses along his bare shoulder while tracing along the waistband of his boxers.
When he became frustrated with the slow, luxuriating speed that Kaeng seemed to prefer, Puth sucked a mark into his skin with more than a hint of teeth. Kaeng understood what that meant and grinned into his hair before pulling him towards the bed.
He was everything that Puth could have asked for from a sexual partner, and somehow more.
His mouth tasted better, Puth thought almost nonsensically. Kaeng gasped out sounds of pleasure and twisted into the silk bedsheets, his head thrown back, his hair mussed with sweat, and Puth wished that he could have stayed suspended in those moments forever.
It was effortless, like it had never been with his other casual lovers. It would probably worry him tomorrow, when they went their separate ways and deleted the contact information in their phones without a backwards glance. That Kaeng would forget his name and move on to the next encounter, while Puth would hold on to memories of their one, perfect night.
It would be harder to kiss someone else without thinking that they compared unfavourably. More frustrating to negotiate sex with someone else, now that he knew Kaeng was out there in Bangkok.
He’s gone before the sun rises, Joe had warned him.
So Puth slipped out of the bed and silently gathered his clothing.
“Come back,” Kaeng called softly from where he was tangled in the bedsheets.
His chest was bare. Puth had kissed bruises along his collarbone, where they could be easily hidden underneath a shirt. His hair was no longer styled, since Puth had run his fingers through it so many times. His leather jacket was discarded somewhere near the front door. His mouth curved into a smile that Puth could have mistaken for affectionate. He raised his hand and beckoned with it.
Their one night stand turned into a weekend. Kaeng didn’t leave before the sun rose, after all.
When it eventually came to an end, Kaeng leaned against the doorframe and watched as Puth buttoned his shirt. It had been freshly laundered and carried the lingering scent of fabric softener. Puth didn't half-tuck it into his jeans, because he was going back out into the real world.
Puth narrowed his eyes with suspicion when Kaeng leaned into him, looking expectant.
“Once more,” Kaeng said with that sweet smile.
So Puth kissed him, just once more. The last time. He headed out the front gates with his phone pushed right down into his pocket and covered his mouth to yawn. He went back to his normal life.
Nearly a week later, Kaeng texted the address for another nightclub.
Puth stared at his phone long enough that Mon frowned at him. He shifted closer on their couch and tried to read the text message over his shoulder. Puth moved it away with such speed that Mon protested, reaching out for the phone while loudly complaining that Puth was keeping secrets from him. Puth handed over the TV remote instead and typed out a reply:
Drinks are too expensive there
Kaeng texted back a few minutes later:
Don’t worry about that
We won’t be there to drink anyway
Meet me there after 9PM
Puth, who was genuinely surprised that Kaeng still had his number—and would insist to anyone who asked that he had just forgotten to delete Kaeng’s—didn’t know what to think about that.
So he didn’t think too hard about it. They could have a private arrangement. It didn’t hurt anyone.
It didn’t hurt anyone when Puth entered the nightclub and saw that Kaeng was already flirting with the pretty bartender. Their arrangement involved sex, not commitment.
It didn’t hurt anyone when Puth texted with his other casual partners.
It didn’t hurt anyone when Kaeng moaned endearments while they were having sex.
It didn’t hurt anyone when Joe saw them together, a few months into the arrangement. Joe went pale and put both arms around Puth on the dance floor just so that he could whisper another warning, sounding truly concerned: please don’t get your heart broken. Those words bothered him, long after they left that nightclub to spend another weekend together. They still bothered him when Kaeng fell asleep with his arm draped over Puth’s waist, looking much more innocent than he really was.
It didn’t hurt anyone when Kaeng offered to drive Puth to his early morning classes, just so that he could stay a little longer. He was a considerate lover, despite his reputation as a heartbreaker. He asked questions about the foods that Puth preferred and ordered meals that they could share together. He seemed interested in what Puth was studying at university and laughed at his stories about the worst students that attended his tutoring lessons.
Sometimes Puth woke up to the sensations of a blanket being tucked around his bare shoulders, and Kaeng gently brushing back his hair.
And that didn’t hurt anyone, either, because he refused to acknowledge that it had ever really happened.
Payu was a little too tall. It would be uncomfortable to kiss him unless Payu bent down. His stride was longer, which meant that they were mismatched when they walked beside each other.
He made math jokes that Puth had trouble understanding. He just smiled when Puth flirted with him, instead of flirting back. He never complained about inattentive students and seemed to accept the world around him without ever struggling against it. Payu had a supportive family who often called him during the week, and had enrolled in university without needing to apply for scholarships. He was serious yet easy-going. He was friendly with everyone and had a good reputation.
He was nothing like Kaeng.
Good, Puth thought.
It would be best to move on from their arrangement and fall in love with someone who could reciprocate his feelings. This had gone on too long. Puth secretly dreaded the one year anniversary of seeing Kaeng across that shadowy nightclub and exchanging numbers with him.
The lines between fantasy and real life had blurred since their close friends started dating.
Kaeng looked different in their school uniform rather than the revealing outfits that Puth was familiar with. He was still unfairly handsome without the makeup that he wore during nights out. Kaeng often sent texts asking how his day was going and commiserating about their upcoming exams. Once, Kaeng had called out to him from the second storey, waving his hand like he was genuinely excited to see him. He was silly and sweet and sometimes tried too hard to be seductive, and Puth really needed to put distance between them.
Their arrangement was not a romantic relationship. Their story was too sordid to be a romance.
He’s even worse than you, Joe had warned him.
He’s a heartbreaker.
He’s gone before the sun rises.
Please don’t get your heart broken.
Puth reminded himself that he knew all about Kaeng’s reputation. So what if he was being possessive now that Puth was showing an interest in breaking off their arrangement? So what if he was upset that Puth looked forward to a committed romantic relationship with Payu?
He wrested his phone out of Kaeng’s now-weak grasp and scrolled through his list of personal contacts, checking that they were still there. Payu had already sent him a message confirming that this was his current number. He had also mentioned that he was available for a phone call tonight.
Kaeng was staring at him. Puth stubbornly refused to glance towards the driver’s seat.
There was a tension between them that had never existed before. He didn’t want to name it. Instead he locked his phone screen and glared at the dashboard.
“Then,” Kaeng said into the silence, “I’ll drive you back to your apartment. You can talk to him sooner.”
His voice was wavering. He sounded so upset.
Frustrated, Puth glared at him. “Fine!” he nearly shouted.
He pretended not to notice that Kaeng was wiping away tears.
A heartbreaker, he reminded himself, for what must have been the thousandth time.
Their arrangement finally ended over dinner.
Puth had eaten meals with Kaeng many times. This was different. Two plates were set out with the proper cutlery. Tapered candles cast a soft glow over his face. Kaeng was wearing the same leather jacket that Puth remembered from their first night together. This outfit was much more conservative, though, the collared shirt buttoned so that it completely covered his neck.
The atmosphere was distinctly romantic. Puth sat down because he didn’t know what else to do.
“What the fuck is this about,” he said at last.
“Don’t say anything right now, Puth,” Kaeng told him, voice soft. “Let’s eat dinner instead.”
Kaeng started cutting into the food with a solemn expression. Puth found that he wasn’t hungry.
“Tomorrow I’m going to ask him to be my boyfriend,” he said instead.
Kaeng went very still.
He took a breath before asking, “And then we won’t be together like this anymore, right?”
“We can still be friends,” Puth assured him.
Kaeng was on the verge of tears, he realised. That didn’t make any sense. A heartbreaker could never be so heartbroken about the end of a casual arrangement.
“What are you so worried about? For someone like you, people come and go.”
Truthfully, he meant it as a compliment. Kaeng was beautiful and desirable. Everything about him was so impossibly perfect that Puth had always worried that no one else would ever compare to him. Kaeng could move on from this arrangement and meet other interested strangers without sparing Puth another thought. They could delete contact information from their phones and finally walk away.
Puth had been waiting for this to happen for months. He was prepared for it.
He was not at all prepared for Kaeng to start crying.
Kaeng leaned forward and didn’t look away, even when the tears were spilling over. “I only have one person who is special to me,” he told him with painful sincerity. “Do you understand?”
Puth stared at him in disbelief.
“Why so romantic now?” he accused.
Kaeng bowed his head and tried to steady his breathing. “Never mind. Who would want to start a relationship with someone like me?” He attempted the most unconvincing smile that Puth had ever seen. “I’m glad that you’re exclusive with someone,” he said kindly.
For someone who had just confessed his feelings after so many months—months of almost-dates and shared weekends, of Puth setting emotional boundaries to prevent himself from becoming too invested, of dancing together in nightclubs and using bottles of whiskey to justify so much as holding out his hand to Kaeng—that was a truly incredible thing to say.
Puth stood up and would have left, dinner untouched.
But Kaeng called out to him. He sounded grief-stricken.
“Can I ask for something?” he asked, tear-streaked and distraught. “Can you please pretend to be my boyfriend?” He took another steadying breath. The tears were falling faster. “Please, just stay with me. I want to remember this feeling. We don’t have to sleep together.”
Puth wondered if it would be kinder to leave and forget all about this. Kaeng couldn’t really mean it. He must feel pressured by their friends to be in a romantic relationship, too. Maybe he was lonelier than Puth would have ever guessed, to insist that he was in love with him and completely abandon his pride.
“Can you do this for me?” Kaeng begged, his voice breaking. “For the last time.”
And he stood there, the same unselfconscious man that Puth had noticed in a crowded nightclub. He was silhouetted by candlelight and crying so hard that if he’d been wearing makeup, it would have been ruined—and he didn’t seem to care about that at all.
All he cared about in that moment, if his words could be trusted, was Puth.
The realisation was enough for Puth to think back over these past months. All the times that Kaeng had put both arms around him and seemed perfectly content. He had called him love and insisted that he missed him, even if it had only been hours since running into each other at university.
Kaeng had asked about Puth’s classes and sent cute stickers via text message for no apparent reason. He waved to him across campus and pulled the blankets over his shoulders on cold mornings and kissed him so sweetly and now, after everything, he was begging Puth for one last night.
That was all that Kaeng thought he deserved.
His breath caught. He suddenly understood the truth that he had been denying for months.
Kaeng loved him.
Puth felt something unspool within him, a thread that had been wound too tight. He could breathe again. He could take the barriers down and hold out his hand without worrying about whether Kaeng would accept it, because Kaeng could no longer hurt him without breaking his own heart.
He could step forward right now and kiss him, knowing that their casual arrangement was over, and that he would meet with Payu tomorrow to explain that he was now in a serious relationship. He could hold Kaeng close and soothe away his tears and silently promise that he would be an attentive boyfriend, to make up for all those months of being such an emotionally distant lover.
Puth could do all those things, now.
So he did.
Nearly a year after they started dating, Puth changed his lockscreen to a photo of their three adopted cats, curled up asleep, peacefully shedding fur all over Kaeng’s silk bedsheets.
He changed his phone wallpaper to a selfie that Kaeng took with him during a beach date, both wearing sunglasses and ridiculous Hawaiian shirts.
But he never changed the photo that came up whenever Kaeng called him:
A blurry selfie taken in a nightclub. Rows of alcohol bottles behind them. A faint lipstick mark on Kaeng’s skin, Puth’s shirt unbuttoned halfway down his chest. The two of them leaning into each other, smiling, with only a vague idea of how important that moment really was—and all the heartache and happiness that would come afterwards, their hard-won happily ever after.