Work Text:
***
The sudden vibration echoing through his desk pulls Sean’s attention away from the Google document he has been ogling at for five minutes to the cell phone lying beside his computer mouse. Examining it, his thick eyebrows form a crevice above his nose at the unexpected notification— a message sent by Daonuea to a newly-formed group chat on Line peculiarly named Come with us to Chiangmai or d*e ♡ .
Right, not intimidating in the slightest.
Daonuea: See you all!! Please be at the airport on time ^^
The chat soon gets filled with emoji reactions of thumb-ups and a single heart. Well, initially there were two heart reactions until Khabkluen sent a skull and knife emoji to the group chat. His friend’s display of absurd jealousy aside, Sean snorts through his nose, highly entertained and amused by the crying face emoji reply to Khabkluen’s message. He closes the group chat and navigates through his other recent contacts on Line, his facial muscles incapable of holding back a grin when he catches a familiar display photo— a cute drawing of a blushing cat. He clicks it, opens the chat named “kitten”, and types away.
Sean: Hey, you okay? That was a nasty threat haha
It takes only a few seconds for his message to be seen, and it’s almost laughable how wide his lips stretch onto the corners of his face when the unique ping rings throughout his room.
Nay: I told you Kluen is a big meanie </3
I’m not even allowed to send my best friend heart reactions now :(
The words he’s reading find their way into the air, flowing into Sean’s ears clad in an endearingly annoyed tone that makes his insides churn for a bit. Folding his knees, he lifts both of his feet onto the edge of his swivel chair. He stretches out his arms, raising his phone above his head as his fingers slide swiftly across the screen to formulate a response.
Sean: Maybe he’s still pissed about you and Nuea kissing back in high school.
Nay: That was three years ago, and it was only a peck on the cheek!
Sean: I still think you shouldn’t have talked about it in front of him.
Nay: Hmp >:( He has no right to be jealous or mean to me.
I had to stare at numerous sketches of his face on Nuea’s sketchpad for years.
I would have ripped them to shreds if I wanted to >:(
Gossiping about people, especially your friends, is not exactly the noblest hobby one should engage in. Sean knows that. But he also acknowledges that he would not have reached this level of closeness with Nay had it not been for the pivotal role his nosiness played.
See, having your friends date each other is one thing. Having to befriend your friend’s friends because your friends are dating is another business on its own, an endeavor the social butterfly Sean never considered challenging… until he met Nay.
It’s not like Nay screamed trouble when Sean first laid his eyes on him, nor did he raise any red flags during their subsequent meetups. Nay as a person was simply, as he would learn slowly but surely, a difficult picture to paint. And no, it was not due to his significantly awful drawing skills but mainly because of Nay’s surprisingly taciturn disposition. During their first few encounters, which were essentially just roundtable discussions about Daonuea and Khabkluen, Nay rarely contributed to the meetings, only speaking up when asked or provoked.
And while being gregarious is one of his assets, Sean had his fair share of struggles approaching Nay whose sole connection to him is their mutual gay friends. So when he noticed the long string of words flowing out of Nay’s mouth whenever he narrated Daonuea’s pining journey for Khabkluen in high school, Sean took good note of that. His curiosity for hearsay aside, he shamelessly used his friends’ stories as a springboard, jumping over the invisible barrier between him and Nay and initiating conversations— a strategy that demanded several attempts before eventually succeeding. Next thing Sean knew, he was getting impromptu history lessons from Nay on Daonuea and Khabkluen’s love story through chat messages every other night.
Of course, the past year has allowed them to uncover more talking points and topics of interest— Joox playlists, Netflix recommendations, university gossip, even pet cafes (because Nay loves his cats). And yet the two still find themselves defaulting to the classic Kluen-Dao gossip every now and then, a temptation Sean brazenly falls for mainly due to how animated and full of vigor Nay becomes whenever they swim around that subject.
Sean: Guess Kluen will have his thick arms wrapped around Nuea the whole trip. It’s gonna be annoying haha
Nay: For sure. I should’ve just kept my mouth shut about my appointment getting canceled. Then Nuea wouldn’t have told me to join.
Sean: Oh, right. Didn’t you say you wouldn’t join the trip since Pong isn’t going?
Nay: Yeah, but Nuea said you’d be there, so I agreed to join.
Sean hears the wheels of his swivel chair squeak loudly as one of his hands loses its grip on his cell phone. Luckily, he manages to reach for the edge of the desk in front of him before he falls flat on his face. Gathering what’s left of his brain cells (because it’s already one in the morning and professors were kind enough to give them a crap ton of homework on the first week of classes), he grabs the cell phone which had made its way to the surface of the bed behind him. He types. Then deletes. Then types again. Then deletes again.
Nay: Are you gonna reply or do I need to wait five business days? haha
Clearly, his remaining two brain cells are not functioning at full capacity, because if they were, they would have stopped him from airing his clownery out in the open for Nay to see, as well as prevented him from sending his next replies.
Sean: My bad. I was just surprised haha
Nay: About what?
Sean: That I’m the reason you’re joining the trip. I didn’t know you liked me that much.
There is a brick wall between being friendly and being annoying, and Sean belatedly realizes he might have just slammed himself against it when the latest message he sends is kept unread for the next five minutes.
Teasing people is like an itch Sean has to scratch even if he has to break his back doing so, and Nay is not an exception to this. As a matter of fact, he gains a deep sense of gratification whenever he gets a tad bit playful with Nay, his jokes bringing out of the other the most fascinating reactions in the form of grumpy glares and long pouts that make him look like a wheezing kitten (hence Nay’s Line nickname). Luckily, Nay has been nothing but a good sport who welcomes his teasing remarks, which gives him a sense of relief whenever the tiniest hint of guilt creeps up at him. But now Sean realizes how Nay’s kindness could be damning to him as well, because he has no clue whether or not he has broken through the threshold of Nay’s frustration meter.
After what seems like forever, the ping sound emanates from his phone again, and Sean mutters a brief prayer. He does not know what he’s hoping to see but he prays nonetheless before checking the notification.
Nay: Well, yeah, I like being with you.
Maybe he should have prayed to be petrified in his seat because had he done so, his feet would not be stumbling over each other, his seat would not be swaying aggressively in various directions, and his chest would not be thumping at such a concerning pace.
It’s downright terrifying how Nay is able to elicit a myriad of responses from Sean. Like that one morning when Sean’s phone nearly took a dive in his water-filled bathtub after he received a text message from Nay for the first time. Or that day Sean came to blows with some college thugs after he saw them push a teary-eyed Nay against a wall. Or that sleepover a few weeks ago where he spewed beer all over himself after Nay confessed in a truth-and-dare game that he now likes being with Sean more than his two best friends (not to mention Daonuea and Pokpong almost hit him with a beer bottle).
Indeed, the past year has been full of astounding revelations from various fronts, and at the center of it all was Nay.
Nay: You’re okay with that, right? Me hanging around you, I mean.
Sean: Yeah, of course. I like taking care of you.
One of Sean’s impulsive traits is making grand promises and frankly, he knows more than anyone else the consequences of such a trait. After all, the last time he swore to someone, it was to an intoxicated Maitee who asked him to never fall for a noncommittal person like him, and not only did Sean fail miserably at keeping said oath, but he was also smacked with the harsh truth— that he’s been wasting precious months secretly harboring feelings that will never be reciprocated.
Still, tremors and aftershocks of a failed one-sided crush apparently do not stop one from making more emotional pledges, not when it’s to a guy as charming and pure-hearted as Nay.
It’s ridiculous how Nay triggers in Sean a sensation akin to a powerful territorial instinct. Sure, he’s a people pleaser, and indulging others is almost like a life mission (one he is more than willing to include Nay in as a beneficiary), but anyone can tell he indulges Nay to a degree different from anyone else before him, displayed by situations so many and various yet strikingly giving off the same, clear message; such as how he never bothers to reply to messages during class unless they’re from Nay; how he never rides the taxis he flags down for his wasted friends after drinking parties unless it’s with an intoxicated Nay lying on his lap; how he’s usually stingy when he eats out with friends unless it’s Nay tugging him by the elbow, asking if they can buy ice cream.
And Sean can list down a bunch of excuses for Nay’s special treatment; that Nay is Daonuea’s dearest friend, and mistreating Nay means upsetting Daonuea, and an upset Daonuea means being at the mercy of Khabkluen’s fists; that Nay still has reservations about his other friends (Typhoon did cause problems for Daonuea at some points and Maitee’s constant flirting spooks him), so it’s up to him to make Nay feel comfortable hanging around them; that Nay was kind enough to give him advice (and a bottle of juice) when he was going through his post-rejection depressive phase and taking care of Nay is simply his method of paying him back.
Yet it’s difficult for Sean to ignore the beast lurking at the farthest corner of his brain and bearing its sharp fangs at him. It’s the one he desperately tries not to sneak a glance at, because even the tiniest peek would mean acknowledging its presence and mayhaps that’s the last thing he wants to do, to admit that this unusual desire to care for Nay, to treat him nicely, to bask in his warm reception, to see the huge smile across his face, to be the subject of his eyes that disappear when he’s filled with glee, is rooted in something far deeper than just being friendly.
The same thing that is making his feet stand up and head towards a corner of his room right now and his brain brew an idea that he knows could give away a signal he may regret showing, but he does so anyway.
Sean: So… which flavor should I bring, little kitten? I got all your favorites.
Though it still registers as absurd for Sean to call Nay little when the other stands 180 centimeters, the nickname is nothing new and is just one of the many things Nay cuts him some slack for. And maybe because it’s nearly one in the morning and the drowsiness is dumbing him at this point, but he has unfounded hopes that Nay would also pardon him for sending a random photo of his shelf with dozens of bags of Lay’s, various assortment of flavors lined up neatly. His sky-high confidence dips with every passing minute until it soars up again at the sound of another notification.
Nay: I dare you to bring one of each flavor.
Okay, perhaps the nickname irked Nay this time because why else would he be demanding Sean to bring one of each of the 12 flavors of chips chilling on his shelf? Sean is a man of his word, though, and he is always eager to please, so he briskly travels to the other side of the room to fetch his hiking bag. A few minutes later, he sends another photo to the chat, this time a selfie of himself beaming proudly next to the bag that he skillfully managed to fill with 12 bags of chips.
Sean: As you wish. See you tomorrow.
The laughing cat sticker Nay sends him back tickles something in Sean’s gut and he finds himself dragging his feet back to his desk, the looming agony of having to carry a chips-filled bag on his back tomorrow betrayed by the large smile plastered on his face.
***
If inanimate objects could talk, the phone in Nay’s hand would probably be screaming at him already.
Roughly ten minutes have passed, yet time appears to be frozen still, the camping bag in front of him that he was in the middle of packing minutes ago already left forgotten on the floor as his eyes bore lasers at the photo displayed on his device’s screen.
There are too many questions running through Nay’s mind, all of them coming out one after another like ants crawling out of their nests. Why did Sean think it’d be cool to send him a selfie at one in the morning with a bag full of potato chips? Why does he even have a cabinet full of potato chips? And all the flavors he likes too? How did Sean know which flavors he likes, again? Oh, and why is he hearing Sean’s honey-coated voice right by his ears when he’s only reading a written message on his phone? And why do Sean’s cheeks look like strawberry mochi? Wait, do they taste like strawberry mochi—
Okay, stop right there , Nay shouts internally, his soul hovering around the imaginary border he had set up for himself for as long as he could remember, mind split between staying behind the safety line or plunging into the unknown abyss.
He stands up, the device in his hand finally released from his penetrating gaze, and toddles his way to the desk where he had a small bag of Lay’s chips laid out, waiting for its turn to be stuffed into his disorganized camping bag. He grabs it, but instead of putting it inside his bag just as he had planned since yesterday, he walks over to the other side of the room and returns it to his box of snacks tucked beside his bed.
Clearly, the smart thing to do for any traveler is to bring their own snacks during a trip, but tonight, Nay’s mind has become fried from working overdrive and is incapable of making coherent decisions. That’s right, blame the brain chemicals, because surely, they’re also at fault as to why there was a huge sketch of Sean’s face on his bedside table.
Nay sighs, picking up his sketchpad that was lying open next to his night light, a hand-drawn portrait of the drunk, sleeping Sean he saw during their most recent sleepover etched on the page beneath his fingers. He smiles curtly as he traces along the lines of ash before reaching the fields of pink carnation, recalling he was halfway through coloring Sean’s cheeks a while ago when he got Daonuea’s chat telling him to finish packing his things.
He wonders how his best friend would react if he saw this, saw how Nay was now doing the same things he had been side-eyeing Daonuea about for years. His best friend is probably going to ridicule him, tell him how he’s now pitifully eating his words. And that’s right. Nay is eating his words now, devouring them, forcing them down his throat.
And while the taste is not always the best, Nay has long swallowed his pride and accepted his fate, because life just works like that. It throws stuff at you, not caring if you’re blinded or muddled or missing an arm, and you just have to catch it, guard against it, take the brunt, and pray you won’t fall to your knees.
Nay learns, at the onset of his senior year, that love might just be one of those things life smacks you in the face with. It appears out of the blue, like a giant whale jumping out of the cerulean waters, and it leaves you in awe, your body rid of its ability to function by the amazement and confusion of it all. It can come to you at any point in any form, most of the time in ways you never expect. For Nay, it comes whenever Sean laughs so heartily his dimples sink deep into his skin like a trench. It comes whenever his head spins from intoxication and Sean offers to finish the remaining alcohol in his cup for him, telling him to take it easy. It comes whenever Sean sends him pictures of a cute kitten with the caption “Reminded me of you”. It comes whenever Sean wraps his soft fingers around his wrist, pulling him to places and directions he never fathomed reaching.
And it comes at times like this, when Nay stares at his mobile phone vibrating on the surface of his bed and he sees Sean’s name flashed on his screen.
Sean: I forgot to say it earlier, but good night :)
What kind of friend says “good night” before bed and at one in the morning? Nay may not have an answer to that. Or maybe he does, because there has to be an explanation for why a simple “good night” from Sean is enough to stir chaos throughout his whole being, from the tips of his fingers to the ends of his toenails. But until he’s ready to admit that, he will keep the secrets of his sketchpad close, tucked it into the deepest corner of his cabinet, like his growing garden of feelings he’s hiding behind a transparent veil.
***