Archive of Our Own ^beta

There’s a window across from his, an apartment in a building that’s been recently renovated despite the fact that it’s lived there for as long as Gaipa could remember. In truth, he’d only began to take notice of it during the past year, and only the past year because of the simple fact that he’s only just noticed that there’s a window across from his that is perpetually left open.

During the day it is difficult to see much, the morning only vague, but at night it is clear. Gaipa can see the inside of this apartment through his window from the comfort of his own home, a home he’s lived in since childhood. His Ma is just downstairs listening to something low on the TV stirring something with lemon in her tea, but up here, on the second floor seated at the small desk in front of his bedroom window, he can see it; the lives of a couple. Or at least he assumes them to be.

There’s a man, tall, with glasses and a dish towel on his forearm next to another man, short with styled hair; he’s wearing a red shirt today. The two used to bump hips when doing the dishes together. Gaipa remembers vaguely, but only because it was the scene he saw the day he realized he could see anything through this window at all.

The tall man with the glasses had held the faucet and the disheveled, styled, man had held the dishes under the water. It was an inefficient way to wash dishes but Gaipa remembers finding it romantic, had thought of doing the same thing but with Jim at his side—tall, holding the faucet. It had been nice enough of a thought to ignore the strange fact that he was practically spying on the couple but, he’d snapped out of it quickly and left it at that; watching them was nothing more than an observation.

It’s a bit different now. The man with the glasses and the man in a red shirt don’t play with the towels or the faucet, they just wash the dishes, but Gaipa figures it gets the job done better so it must be that. He wasn’t as observant back then anyway to know whether if that had just been a special occasion or not. For all he knows this may truly be how they do their dishes everyday.

But back then he wasn’t in his room so often, never sat at his desk that at the time held mostly his clothes rather than sheltering any practical use. He’d liked to call it organized enough as long as he knew where everything sat. But because of that, for a bit, he’d forgotten about the couple.

It was only every so often, mostly in the mornings, that he’d grab his watch from the desk and he’d notice the back of the head of the styled man and the blurred face of the guy with the glasses (he could really only make out the glasses), sitting together for breakfast.

It was romantic. It put a smile on his face. And every morning, he’d liked to peek out his window and see them share a meal first thing to their day.

That was a year ago though, or something close to it, they’d more likely lived there much longer but he’d never noticed. It was a strange thing though wasn’t it? Keeping a window open every day.

He’d asked Ma once, probably the same day he first noticed, “Do you ever leave the curtains open?”

“In the living room to let the light in sure,” she’d said, looking at the yellowed lace that covered the edges of the sun, “but I always close them at night, do be sure you don’t forget that, there are too many creeps out there Gaipa.” It felt like he was being chided at the time, but watching them has become so normal it doesn’t bother him much anymore.

Of course, back then he hadn’t watched them so religiously, just checked that they had eaten together and then he went off to work just nearly the same time the man with the glasses left and that was his romantic fill for the day, but then he got curious. Did they close their curtains at night?

They didn’t. He hadn’t noticed that before. That only made it worse, the chiding Ma unknowingly gave him bugged him that night when he’d watched the man with the glasses open his front door, walk over to the dining table by the wall as he set his brief case down by its leg, always leaving the chair open (for company Gaipa assumed), and removed his tie.

It was an easy motion, smooth from routine but a bit achy, like the man with the glasses was tired, maybe frustrated as he tugged on the tie that tightened before it slid out from around his neck. He draped it across his chair handle. A good spot. His space was very neat. It was a stark contrast to the desk Gaipa had sat at, especially at that time. He hadn’t yet built the habit of keeping the chair cleared so he’d been sitting on a pair of something, pants maybe or a shirt, he can’t remember but it was soft and left red marks on his leg when he moved from that spot. But he only moved when the man with the glasses did. It felt rude to leave first. And he’d left that chair open, for company Gaipa knows, and yet his partner never appeared.

Gaipa could only assume he was fast asleep, it was late after all, but Gaipa was used to being awake so late. If anything, he preferred the night, moonlight was his favorite color and the guy with the glasses was alright company, a nice view for the Gaipa of that time.

It had been nice, yes, that’s what he remembers; and the sentiment remains. Even as Gaipa watches now, a pen held loose in the guy with glasses’ hand, a twirl every so often, as he writes in a hurried script before flicking through the papers to discard to a neat pile, Gaipa still admits, this is nice.

He hasn’t sat here the whole day of course, the two had gone to work and so had Gaipa. He’d walked Mom to the stall and met up with Leng for lunch on his break, but it’s night now and he’s been home since a little bit ago and Mom is enjoying her show downstairs so Gaipa allowed himself to enjoy his.

He hadn’t sat here waiting for the man with the glasses to return home, he’d actually been watching his partner for a bit first, but he went out and the man with the glasses came in and now, he’s sat watching him.

He no longer hears the gentle chide in his mind that he may be a bit of a creep for watching, instead he hears the faint sound of a radio that the man with the glasses turns on for his partner to let him know when he’s gotten home, but he must not know his partner has already went out. That chair is still left open. No one sits there. Gaipa finds it a shame. But the man with the glasses, even when doing taxes, is good company on a night like this.

For once, Gaipa can let himself focus on a life other than his own, think of a thought other than Jim, and the man with the glasses is a constant in his life, like Jim and Ma and work in the morning. It’s a comfort.

Maybe that’s what he’s trying to say after all of this. Gaipa isn’t much the reminiscent type, but, no, that’s a lie. Gaipa is the reminiscent type. He’s sentimental and often finds himself thinking about the past more than the future, but it’s just how he’s always been. Maybe that’s why he hasn’t worked up the courage to ask Jim out.

That would require a plan, or a thought at least, of a future in which he says yes and they do work. But it’s hard to imagine. And it’d be a change. Gaipa thinks he prefers the constants to the change that could happen, it’s more comfortable this way. Sitting at his neat desk where his pens sit in a mug from the kitchen and his clothes sit on the end of his bed instead, its a constant, a comfort. Jim right now is a thought of nervousness, mystery. Gaipa has enough mystery right here, the guy with the glasses is enough mystery.

Sometimes he wonders what his name is. He admits that if they were to meet he probably wouldn’t have the courage to ask, he always gets shy around taller men, and knowing he knows him like this doesn’t help either but, it’s the fact that he doesn’t know him, that is the mystery. Gaipa wonders what his favorite color is, if he has any allergies, he wonders if he likes chicken.

He’s only seen him make eggs and rice for breakfast; omelets, steak. Gaipa’s never seen him make chicken for dinner. The man with the glasses rarely cooks dinner anymore. It seems his partner gets busy in the evenings, he’s out nearly all the time, and just when the man with the glasses returns, he ends up eating dinner alone. But at least, Gaipa smiles, they eat together every morning.

The guy with the glasses cooks, sets the table early, and watches his partner stumble out to eat with him. Sometimes they talk, something Gaipa can’t hear too well from here, and sometimes they wash dishes together, but they always, every morning, eat together. It’s a constant. It’s a comfort.

Gaipa yawns, once then twice. He looks through the window, watching the hand of the man with the glasses shift a page behind another before folding them together and sliding it gently into a manilla folder. His fingers are long, he wears a watch on his left and a silver ring on his right. The ring catches the light as he packs up the table, picks up and matches his brief case, and pushes the chair in, grabbing his tie and throwing it over his shoulder like he does every time he packs up for bed. The light will turn off soon and Gaipa will go to bed but the man with the glasses hesitates. He stands, staring at the empty chair for a moment, before he flicks off the radio and turns off the light.

Gaipa yawns a final time, stretching back in his chair and hearing that crick in his neck reappear as it pops, satisfyingly quick. He’s been getting these aches more often due to this hobby but, for the content feeling in his chest, it’s worth it.

His bed is comfy, soft and warm, and Gaipa sleeps easily to thoughts of the man with the glasses turning into Jim, doing the dishes, by his side.

The morning sun is bright. He forgot to close the curtain. It stings his eyes and lets him know he’s slept far too long and it’s high time for him to get ready for work. He can hear the bang of pots and pans downstairs, Mom up and about, just as much as he can smell something delicious cooking. Mom hasn’t started cooking yet, it must be the man with the glasses.

He nearly jumps out of bed. This early he may be able to vaguely see into the kitchen; to see the man, in his neatly pressed work shirt and slacks, cooking something delicious on the stove. Gaipa’s hand hits the side of the desk in his urgency but he only groans a little as he looks excitedly out the window.

He’s there. The man with the glasses is there cooking something diligently on the stove. His tie is strewn over his shoulder, his sleeves pushed back, and his watch glints in the morning sun. Gaipa is excited to watch the couple eat together, but it’s a bit late for them. Usually the man with the glasses cooks earlier in order to make it for work, but he may have some extra time today. Gaipa doesn’t know much about the mechanics of a salary job and he doesn’t care to know, he just wants to see the couple together this morning.

He hears Ma call for him through the floorboards, echoing down the hall, letting him know breakfast is ready, but the other man hasn’t come out yet. The man with the glasses has just finished setting the table for two but the other man hasn’t come out yet so Gaipa waits. Gaipa sits and watches the man with the glasses stare at that chair. They both wait.

He hears the tic of his watch as the hand passes. Tic, tic, tic. Ma calls a second time. The man hasn’t shown up yet. Tic, tic, tic.

A knock startles him out of his chair, swiveling around to see Mom in the door. “Didn’t you hear me?” She asks, a small little smile, something so fond, twitching her cheek and raising her brow.

“Oh!” He breathes, “Yeah I did, I was just on my way.” He smiles back, something a bit nervous. His heart thuds like he’s been caught doing something. He doesn’t dare turn back to the window yet.

“Alright,” she smiles something, nods at him, “Come on, don’t let your food get cold.” Ma chides, “It’s bad for your health to eat it like that.”

He nods back, “I’ll be right there.” He says, watching her back as she leaves first. He turns his own around, facing the window as a breath falls from his chest. The man with the styled hair sits at the table. Gaipa watches with a giddy smile. He eats from his plate. The couple eat together. Gaipa heads downstairs to eat with his Mom.

The market is loud today, but it feels quiet at times. It’s just him and Ma at the stand before Leng comes along, easily interrupting the break in their teasing conversation when he bursts in with a large grin.

“Your beloved sends an order for,” Leng checks his hand as if he’s written something messily on it, “chicken breast!” He announces, his hand turning in the process showing nothing written after all.

Gaipa shakes his head at him, “You’re too dramatic for your own good.” His smile teases.

Ma gives a bright smack to his hair with a, hopefully clean, short towel; like he’s said anything wrong. “Be kind to your friends.”

“It’s Leng.” Gaipa grins.

“Oh ho!” Leng waves his finger out at his face like he’s gonna do something. Gaipa watches it fidget twice before going back peacefully to his pocket, “I’m gonna remember that!” Leng declares, wide smile and an aborted nod.

Gaipa smiles back, “Good because I never forget anything you tease me about.”

Leng makes another gesture, an open mouth and a crumpled brow, as if saying “Who me?” Gaipa doesn’t spare him much less than an eye roll before grabbing the receipt from his open palm. He reads the list easily, quickly, which is odd because Uncle Jim’s handwriting usually takes a couple moments to decipher at the least.

“Who’s handwriting is this?” He hears himself ask.

Leng looks down at the paper too before, “Oh!” He seems to remember, “It’s probably Wen’s,” Gaipa looks up, “he’s a friend of Jim who’s just started helping out around the shop.”

“Ah,” he hums, nodding once, twice, “I see.” He folds the paper this way and that before reading the front again, “He could’ve just asked me,” He mutters to no one really as he moves to gather the groceries, “he knows I’m always willing to help.”

“Well he wouldn’t want to take you away from your own work.” Leng reassures, hand strewn quick around his shoulder. It jostles his already flustered hair out of its light comb over.

“He knows I don’t mind.” Gaipa insists.

“I don’t think there’s a single man left who doesn’t know about your crush.” Leng harangues, Gaipa fights the urge to knock his arm off, “But Wen’s pretty alright, he works well.”

Gaipa just nods again,, “Sounds good.” It doesn’t but he avoids being contrary. He’s unsure of what else to say that wouldn’t sound petulant. Leng doesn’t stay long though, just takes the bag and heads off leaving Gaipa to focus on his own customers.

He closes up a bit early that day. Ma gave the go ahead, told him he was free after he delivers the food she prepared for Jim so he’s in pretty good spirits on his way over to moonlight chicken. And then he meets Wen.

He wasn’t expecting him. In all honesty he’d forgotten him for a bit, but there’s something about the way he stares at Jim, the way he calls him uncle, the way his hair is perfectly styled. There’s nothing wrong with Wen, it’s just, his everything sets Gaipa in a less than good mood. It must be jealousy he figures.

He’s being jealous and he should stop because he has no right. Jim isn’t his, but Wen has no right to stare at him like that either, and—agh.

He scratches his head so hard that his hair puffs out around his ears. He has to shake it to tame it but he regrets that too because now he has marbles that rattle in his skull and the ache in his neck flares back. His mood is the worst.

Gaipa gets through the door with nothing in his mind but the thought of Ma and her wonderful head massages but the TV is off and there’s a note; Ma’s visiting a friend. His sigh tastes like defeat. His heels, heavy, carry himself up the stairs, into his room. His body is even heavier as he flings himself onto his bed.

His mood is the worst. His heart hurts.

Why does want hurt so bad? He doesn’t understand. Why can’t he just be comfortable and content every day?

He hiccups his next sigh, dangerously close to something emotional, when he hears the radio. Smooth jazz. The man with the glasses. Gaipa sits up immediately, completely ignoring the light headed rush now currently spinning his brain. Instead he grabs his pillow and pulls open his chair. Sitting comfy at his desk, Gaipa pulls open the curtain and there he is, the man with the glasses.

The emotion that takes him is so satisfyingly fulfilling that he has to catch himself for a moment. In the beginning it wasn’t like this, he’d never thought much of it. Really it was just a way to past the time, stealing a glimpse into these people’s lives. He’d never had the chance before and he’d often wondered if maybe this is what him and Jim would be like. But as it progressed he’d started to form connections.

Simple at the start, like; the guy with the glasses is an early riser, the guy with the glasses always cooks for the both of them, the guy with the glasses sits at that table a lot, often writing something down and making phones calls, work maybe, taxes? He seems like a numbers guy. But right now, Gaipa realizes there’s an emotional connection too.

The guy with the glasses coming home has become a constant for him, an expectation, a comfort. Gaipa wonders when his partner will come in, sometimes knows instinctively that he won’t, not like he used to, but the man with the glasses is always a constant. He always comes home, he always turns on the radio, he always sits at the table and waits. Gaipa has grown attached to this routine.

He doesn’t know what to make of that, but the fact that it comforts him is enough. Just before this he was close to tears but now, seeing the man with the glasses teeter about his apartment, setting his blazer and tie on the back of that chair, roll up his sleeves ready to clean—it’s Wednesday—Gaipa feels better already. He feels content. Comforted. Gaipa feels happy.

It’s enough. For now, this is all he needs. Wen can have Jim for today, as long as he gets the guy with the glasses, he’s satisfied.

The guy with the glasses is early today, but he usually is on Wednesdays, that’s when he likes to turn the radio up and clean the apartment. Gaipa watches as he clears away out of place books, socks, the only signs he doesn’t live alone. He watches as he dusts off the table, washes the counter and soaps up the stove, Gaipa watches it all with a distant dreamlike gaze. He feels it pull at him like he’s sleepy. He shouldn’t be sleepy yet, the sun has just begun to set. But he’s tired, beyond exhausted and his arm pillows his head as he listens to the last ringing notes of the radio as it fades. He doesn’t know if anyone comes home that night other than the guy with the glasses.

Light tickles his face, morning light and birds and his lashes unstick as they open, beating back against his skin. His neck aches worse than before, his legs asleep, and there’s drool on his hand followed by red marks on his forearm that most likely match his cheek. Despite it all Gaipa feels like he’s had the best rest of his life, sated and calm and warm in the morning light. His curtain is left open but so early that the sun has just begun to rise, Gaipa doesn’t see a thing. Or at least he hadn’t expected to, until the partner walks in through the door.

He can’t see his face from here, never can, but he sees a familiar red shirt and styled hair mussed up like he’s just woken, which is a strange state to be coming home in. There’s a dread pulling at Gaipa’s stomach that has him hoping for once that the man with the glasses isn’t home either, or maybe he’ll sleep in, or that he won’t leave his room about now for his morning run that sometimes Gaipa likes to indulge in and take one of his own.

But Gaipa has no luck. It happens slow but it’s abrupt. The man with the glasses enters the living room. He sees his partner upon immediate arrival, disheveled like he didn’t sleep much, walking in through the front door at nearly 6 in the morning. There’s no shouting, not yet, but Gaipa can feel the tension, even all the way over here.

The partner says something. The guy with the glasses stares at him. The partner shakes his head and turns, sets his keys on the table then shoulders his way past the guy with the glasses into the bedroom. The guy with the glasses stands there, loose shirt and running shoes on, unmoving.

It’s a slow motion, watching him crumble, and crumble he does. His chin falls to his chest and his arms shake. He’s just about reached the floor with his knees when he catches himself on the wall. Gaipa can’t hear anything from here but he’s not sure he’d hear anything close up either. The guy with glasses is a quiet cryer, and it doesn’t last long. He gets up, grabs his phone and watch and he heads out for his morning run.

The heavy slam of the door leaves a bitter taste in Gaipa’s mouth. Did they fight? Did the partner stay at a friends over the night? What happened? Gaipa is so curious about what he’s just seen that it takes a second ring for him to notice the alarm on his phone buzzing right by his arm. He should head out for his run soon.

He does eventually, but Gaipa can’t quite get the scene out of his head. The sight of the man with the glasses catching himself by his hand against the wall, his heavy shoulders shaking, his tall frame shrinking; it’s practically burned behind his eyes.

It makes the day go by as if he’s stuck in a fog because every time he blinks, he sees it, that same sight. But he can’t afford to be lost all day, especially not when, “Gaipa?”

He looks up, “Hm?” fallen from his lips before he even registers whose face he’s looking at. “Oh, Uncle Jim.”

“Hey,” Jim raises a light hand, a wiggle of his fingers to match his polite smile. “Did you hear what I said?”

“Ah,” Gaipa blinks, “well you were pretty far away the first time so.” He laughs nervously.

Jim smiles back, “I asked where Aunt is, is she on a delivery?”

“Hm? Oh, no she’s at a friends house.”

“Ah I see,” Jim hums, “it’s good to keep in contact, especially these days.”

“Yeah,” Gaipa smiles, admiring the return Jim gives him. His eyes make him look older, it’s attractive. “Well since you’re stuck with me, what can I get you for today?”

“Just the usual,” Jim looks down to admire the meat before looking back up, “I’m on my lunch break.”

“Ah, I see,” if Gaipa were any more clear of mind he’d offer to share it with him or ask to help out with the shop in the evening but he just lets it go. Jim must notice his uncharacteristic silence but, he doesn’t say a thing, just leaves, and Gaipa just watches his back.

When Gaipa gets home Ma is in the kitchen and the TV is on but he barely registers any of it as he makes his way to his room. It’s more impactful when he realizes the man with the glasses isn’t home yet then the fact that Mom didn’t say a greeting to his arrival. She must’ve seen his face and decided to let him be, but that thought just makes him wonder what Gaipa must look like for her to steer clear. The man with the glasses isn’t home though so there’s nothing to take his mind away from that thought.

Regardless, Gaipa sits at his desk and he waits. He’s decided to not deny that’s what he’s doing, waiting, for the man to get home, but he does and when he’s woken up at nearly one in the morning to muffled cursing he nearly jumps out of his skin.

But its just the guy, who’s glasses aren’t sitting up quite right. He looks inebriated, and tired. He gives up in his fight with the front door and lets it slam shut, doesn’t seem to give a damn anymore. The house is silent anyway. Gaipa doesn’t know if that means his partner is home or not. He doesn’t think he cares much, just watching the guy with the glasses move about less than steadily is enough for his heart to sink to a calm state.

It takes his mind away from the day, drags it a bit back into that fog about the fight from that morning but the guy with the glasses nearly trips on his own shoe and Gaipa giggles into his arm. It’s quiet but it puts a smile on his face.

The guy with the glasses stands tall again. Gaipa watches as he tosses his head back, shoulders slumped and neck flexing with strained, exhausted, effort as he sighs. He knows it’s a sigh because he can see where it moves his breast and makes him rub at his eyes. He tugs at his tie, despite the fact that it’s loose already and nearly off, he still struggles with it. It attaches itself to his hand and tugs at his neck, flaring his collar and finally hitting the couch with a thwack as he just about slumps against it. Gaipa predicts he’ll sleep out here tonight.

The guy with the glasses has never slept on the couch before but he looks too frustrated to bother moving. He sinks into the cushions vertically before slowly curling into himself and digging his hip and head into the armrest. It’s a sad image. Such a tall guy reduced to self soothing, to shrinking in on himself.

It reminds Gaipa of when he’d do the same in his mom’s lap, she’d pet his head and stroke his back. The guy with the glasses doesn’t have someone to do that for him right now though, and that thought’s a bit sad.

Silently, Gaipa hopes someone will walk through that front door and at least rest a blanket across his shoulders. He doesn’t know if it actually happens but he dreams it, and when he wakes up, the guy with the glasses is gone.

Gaipa sits up in a hurry, quickly looking for any signs of him when the man comes out of the kitchen holding two plates. Gaipa rests again, a slight bend to his elbow as his forearm balances his head, he lets himself listen to the sound of the guy with the glasses setting up for breakfast.

Gaipa recognizes slowly what’s been bothering him, the fog. The partner has been showing up later and later every morning, but he does show up eventually and today it’s enough. Gaipa stretches in his chair, idly watching the couple have their breakfast. He yawns and heads down for his own.

The carpet is soft on his socked feet. “You’ve been waking up pretty late these days.” Ma greets as he steps into the living room. Her show is on commercial break as she sets out the frozen meat to take to the shop.

“I’m a growing boy.” He steals a piece of egg from her plate on the counter.

She grabs him by the head and he immediately lets out a dangerous noise, “Growing boy my foot.” She says as she wiggles his head before pressing him close to her breast, delivering a fat smooch to his forehead. He can smell where her lipstick stains.

Rather than press out of her grip he giggles and clings to her. She immediately teases that he’s the only “growing boy” so attached to his mother and to that, he has no response.

“Is it so bad for a growing boy to love his mother? Hm?” He noses her liquid bicep. She huffs a short smile, jutting her chin before her next speech, but something in his eye must make her hesitate.

She sighs, soft and fond, “My heart,” she calls him, “you’re more than I could’ve ever asked for.” He doesn’t have a response to that either, but he smiles.

“You’re just saying that because you like that I’m gay, it gives you an excuse to not let Aunt Anong over.”

“Oh hush you! You being gay is only my second favorite thing about you.” He giggles so hard all he can do is shove his cold nose into her neck and breathe. He loves her more than anything, he laments. The fog of yesterday clears.

Ma and Gaipa head out together to the market today, quickly opening up and watching the familiar faces pass by.

“Good morning!” Friends and aunties greet, all with a bright grin, to Ma. “Good morning to you too Gaipa.” They say as he appears from behind her shoulder. He waves back, yelling his own good morning’s as they pass by. The day goes by fast by Ma’s side and the sun rises higher, bringing with it, heat.

“Oh good afternoon Jim!” Gaipa nearly trips himself turning around to the sound of Ma’s loud voice. His mother notices his sharp fall but great woman that she is, doesn’t say a thing, and focuses on distracting Jim instead.

“Good afternoon Aunty.” Jim greets. When he sees Gaipa he nods to him as well, Gaipa nods back.

“How’s the restaurant?” Ma asks, Gaipa wants to roll his eyes.

“As good as yesterday.”

“These things do change quickly, I just have to check in every so soon, one moment you’re fine the next you’re in debt.”

Jim’s mouth goes tight, “You’re right, Aunty.”

Ma knows, she can just tell when a subject hits close to home, so Gaipa watches as she changes it expertly. “I heard your kid got into some trouble the other day.” Okay, maybe not so expertly.

Gaipa bumps her shoulder lightly, “I’m sure Uncle Jim would love to tell you all about that but he probably has to get back soon, to the restaurant?” Jim catches his eye and looks grateful.

He smiles, “I would—“

“Oh! Then why don’t you go over and give them a hand!” Ma says terribly well-meaningfully but Gaipa sees the way Jim is counting up placations to reject her offer.

“No it’s alright,” he says, “Wen’s at the shop so we’re covered.” Wen, right, Wen. He’d forgotten about him again.

“Oh I see, Gaipa didn’t tell me you got a new employee.”

“He’s a friend who’s just helping out,” Gaipa says, “Leng told me about it when you were at your friends house.”

“Gosh I would not call Aunty Anong a friend—“ Gaipa quickly loses interest in Ma’s rant about her not friend (even though she clearly wrote friend on her note). He instead finds himself studying the politely lost expression on Jim’s face. It stings. This is the only chance he gets to see him, and it’s always like this. It’s not Ma’s fault, it’s not even Jim’s it’s just, it’s him. It’s because Gaipa doesn’t have the courage to ask him out. To ask him out…

“Um actually,” Gaipa cuts in, Jim’s attention almost immediately turns to him, that reaction feeds him the confidence he needs to get the words out, “I was wondering if you’d be interested in eating lunch together, this Sunday?”

“Oh that’s right!” Ma, always eager to help, catches on, “We’ve got so many leftovers you really should come over!” She does her best despite the fact that it mainly serves to embarrass him. But it must work because Jim nods something polite before excusing himself. And that’s how he got himself a date. Wow, he just got himself a date.

He can’t really process it, even as Ma shoots him continuous winks over chicken throughout the day. It’s only as he comes home and finds himself sitting at his desk staring at an empty chair through the window, that he realizes what he’s done. He asked Jim out. It’s only lunch but, what would they talk about? Would Gaipa be expected to steer the conversation? If he did, should he confess? Or should he wait?

He’s torn from his thoughts by the gentle tug and click of the door opening and closing across the distance of a window from him. The man with the glasses returns. He’s not drunk this time, but he doesn’t look any better, and this time Gaipa is sure the apartment is empty.

The guy with the glasses ignores his tie this time altogether, instead tearing off his blazer and perching it on the corner of the couch. He unbuttons his cuffs as he walks into the kitchen, work slacks tightening with each slinking step before they loosen at a stand. He comes back out with wine, holding the bottles by their necks and gripping an opener with his pinky finger. With an open thumb he turns on the radio as he walks past. Finally, the guy with the glasses all but falls into the couch cushions, letting the wine bottles hit the table with a heavy sound. Gaipa winces but can’t tear himself away.

He drinks straight from the bottle’s mouth as something smooth fills the room. The window is open, it always is, Gaipa thinks maybe they opened it the day they moved in and just never remembered to close it, because he can hear the gentle notes of jazz filter in through his own slightly cracked window. He watches, chin against forearm, as the man with the glasses drinks late into the night.

Gaipa wonders what kind of man he is. Is he a stoic guy who gets flirty when drunk? Is he maybe a somber drinker? Or maybe he gets angry.

He’s seen it before, the heavy door being closed fast and hard, the shake of his fist that goes immediately rigid, the fight of frustration with his tie every night. Little stuff, stuff not easily broken but used as facets to release his emotion. Gaipa wonders if he’ll see more of that tonight, but he doesn’t.

He learns instead that none of those are quite honest nor true for tonight, because the guy with the glasses doesn’t cry or fight a pillow, he dances. He’s a romantic, and he dances.

Gaipa watches the guy with the glasses dance to slow jazz all by himself in his warmly-lit, empty, apartment. He cups the air like it’s his partner, as he expertly moves around the room. One, two, turn, step, step, back. And again. One, his head nods to the beat, two, he turns slightly to look for his next step, gently cautious of the carpet, turn, he turns. Step, he goes, step, and another, then back.

It’s smooth, practiced. He’s done this before, alone. Gaipa feels intrusive but he also feels lucky. He is probably the only to have witnessed this side of the man with the glasses. Not even his partner has watched how brilliantly he can dance all alone.

It makes Gaipa feel, good, somewhere, deep, in his chest. It’s simple, to feel good. He always seems to feel this way when watching the man with the glasses. It makes him almost forget to compare him to Jim and his fantasies. Not even fantasies could make him feel this way.

He watches the dance end as the song closes and with a slight tinge of disappointment, Gaipa watches the man with the glasses retreat to his room for the night. With a sigh, Gaipa does the same. His back thanks him.

“I’m really sorry,” Jim says for the third time. “Really I am.” Gaipa knows and at this point he wishes he’d just stop. “I didn’t expect to get pulled into Li Meng’s trouble like this.”

“It’s alright, it’s not your fault.” Gaipa waits, patiently, for any sign of Jim looking to reschedule or to even offer planning it for another date but, he just repeats his platitudes and Gaipa resigns himself. There won’t be a lunch date. That’s fine. His chin meets his chest as he picks at a spot on the vendor’s stand but his bangs poke his eyes. Gaipa shakes the hair out of his face, huffing when it falls back almost immediately.

Jim watches the motion happen twice before saying, “You should spend some of that free time getting a hair cut.”

Gaipa looks up, bangs falling back again, he’s too stunned to do anything about them. “Huh?” It’s more of a breath that escapes him then a response.

“It’s alright if you don’t come around all the time,” Jim smiles like he’s being kind, “take a break yknow?” It’s the last thing Gaipa wants to hear. Honestly? It makes him feel like shit. Like he wants to cry. He probably could right then and there but he doesn’t. Just smiles something tight and nods. But he does take the advice. He takes a break, leaves early and goes for a walk.

He walks past a bar that has no familiarity to him. He walks past trees and stones and not a single thing makes him think anything different. None of it is familiar nor comforting and really his best bet is to head home and find Ma to chase the fog away, but, he stops outside a gym. He doesn’t have any desire to go in but there’s finally something familiar that has him looking in through the glass.

There’s a man. He’s tall, lanky maybe if it weren’t for defined arms and a confident swing. He’s standing at a punching bag wearing work slacks and boxing gloves and he looks, aggressively frustrated. He looks like the guy with the glasses just without the glasses. But Gaipa’s never seen the guy up close so he can’t be sure. He decides to not be a creep any longer and move on, but the sound of the sight stays with him. Swing, one, two, swing.

Maybe he should get a gym membership.

He easily decides against it after his jog back home. Jogging at night is different then in the morning. He’s used to being up early and jogging gives him something to do, like cooking when Ma doesn’t feel like it. It always makes him feel good, to cook for Ma and to jog.

But there’s something about the aggressive beat of the man at the gym that doesn’t feel, good, it feels painful. Gaipa would’ve preferred not to take Jim’s advice and just come home, maybe cook for Ma, and wait for the guy with the glasses. That would’ve made him feel better at least.

Gaipa opens the front door, too amped to honestly ignore the sweat on his shoulders from the mile he just ran. Who knew the city was so far from here. The first thing he does is take a shower, cleaning the grime from the day off and smoothing back irritating bangs that he doesn’t have the heart to cut. He passes his window a couple times, checking behind the closed curtain as he dresses, just a peek, to see if the man has come home yet.

It’s only by the third glance that Gaipa wonders if maybe he shouldn’t pin his hopes so heavily on this. For one, it’s creepy, for two, it clearly has a grasp on his emotional well-being and Jim already is too much to handle. Gaipa really shouldn’t let himself be so invested but—the radio turns on—he figures it’s too late for that.

When Gaipa opens the curtain he notices something familiar about the guy with the glasses. Oh! The guy at the gym! So it really was him. He never got a good look at his face which is a shame, he’s only ever seen him from afar. Some part of Gaipa is disappointed by that, it almost feels like he knows him and it almost feels wrong that he doesn’t know him.

He sits at the desk with a put-out pout as he watches the man go in and out of rooms, going about his nightly routine. It almost feels like he lives alone. Gaipa wonders if he does now. It seems lonely. Maybe that’s why the guy with the glasses shows up home later and later these days; no one to come home too.

Which isn’t fair really because Gaipa waits for him, every day. And now that really is creepy. He shouldn’t be this invested but, it’s sad. It was interesting at first, but Gaipa’s watched this man’s entire world crumple throughout the past year and, turning away feels like abandonment.

He doesn’t want to be the one to abandon him like his partner has. So he sits, even when he does nothing interesting, even when all he does is sit on the couch and drink, Gaipa watches, mesmerized. Gaipa has been late to work before from staying up watching him take swig after swig. It’s hypnotic, it’s comforting. He sleeps at his desk again that night.

In the morning Gaipa waits with this ugly feeling in his chest as he expects the partner to walk in through those doors for breakfast, so they can eat together in silence. But something strange happens, he doesn’t show up. The guy with the glasses has been cooking since the rise of the sun, set out two plates, two cups, blended a smoothie for the morning. There’s silverware and side dishes and an open chair. His plate is going cold. And Gaipa, Gaipa watches, and he cries.

He doesn’t notice til they slide but the tears run without sound as he watches the man with the glasses stare at that empty chair at dawn. They eat together every morning, no matter how long the guy with the glasses has to wait, he waits and they eat. Gaipa waits and watches and no one comes. So yeah, he cries.

This was Gaipa’s entire hope in love and romantic ideation but the partner just doesn’t show! Somewhere, deep, bitter, inside him thinks, just for a moment, that he’d be a perfect fit for Jim. And surprisingly he doesn’t feel anything but satisfied by that thought.

The guy with the glasses eats slowly, he doesn’t seem to have much of an appetite. Gaipa sighs, sniffling into his wrist as he fantasizes, not about Jim bumping hips at the sink, but of sitting in that empty chair and seeing the guy with the glasses up close. It’s not fair, he thinks, as he sets his head down, unable to watch any longer.

He doesn’t show up to work that day. It’s an accident not a choice. Ma doesn’t fault him for it.

“You’re a growing boy aren’t you? All growing boys need their beauty rest.” She’d said. She’d also heard about the rejection so Gaipa has a feeling he knows where it’s coming from.

“It won’t happen again Ma.” He says.

She makes a face that says he’s being too serious. “It’s alright, you don’t have to stick yourself with this chicken business you know. You have your bachelors, if you ever want to do anything else you can.”

“Ma—“

“I know, I know you like selling chicken, but I also know you just like being with me.”

“Ma.” He sniffles. “I do like being with you, I only like selling chicken a little less.”

She laughs, “I know heartful, and I like you too, but you’re a young man, I want to know you’ll be alright without me.”

“What are you saying Ma? You’re always gonna be around so I’m always gonna be alright with you.”

She smacks his head, light but it makes his bangs fall into his face, “Come on now, don’t be ignorant. You know I won’t be here forever.” He sniffles and she coos, “Oh heartful c’mere,” he goes easily into her arms, swaying gently in her deep embrace. “I just want to know when you’re getting a boyfriend that’s all, you need something to do that’s not got to do with chicken.”

“I don’t even like chicken.” He mumbles into her skin.

“I know.”

“I prefer beef.”

She pets his head, curling a hair around her pinky, “I know.” He sniffles again. “I have to go to the bank today. Want me to set you up with a nice man there?”

He laughs so easily that he shocks himself, “Come on Ma, I know I like ‘em older but not that old. I’m alright pining after a chicken seller, we fit better if we’re in the same class anyway.”

“Hey,” she pokes his forehead, “don’t divide yourself from city-folk like that. Ain’t nothing different between the two of you. You stare at the condos next to us enough that I thought you’d know that by now.”

“You knew?”

“Course I knew, I’m your Ma. Now about that bank teller—“

“Okay Ma, I’m okay!” He assures, “Your son can find his own boyfriend.”

She shoots him a look, “Mhm.” She hums, disbelieving. He giggles, shaking his head to rid himself of the tears. She just holds him. It’s nice. It’s comfort. It’s nice. It reminds him that Christmas is coming soon.

“Just a couple more days.” Ma observes.

He nods. “What should we make for Christmas dinner?”

“Hmm,” she pretends to think for a moment, “chicken?” He slaps her shoulder and smiles at her laugh. It’s nice.

They make beef for Christmas dinner. Gaipa helps in the kitchen all night that he doesn’t even have time to check what the guy with the glasses is doing for Christmas. Part of him feels sad about it, he’s sure he’s lonely, but another part is just glad to be with Ma. So, they make beef for dinner. They make so much that they have leftovers.

Ma says he should bring some over to Jim for the holidays and as reluctant as he feels, he gives in. He doesn’t really know where he stands with his feelings and Jim. He knows he likes him, but he also knows it’s a bit hopeless and he thinks he’s starting to get that.

Nonetheless, he grabs the bag and tupperware off the counter and he heads out. Ma heeds him to take his coat and scarf, he only listens because he loves her. But it’s not that cold actually, the moonlight is nice all the way over to the restaurant. He entertains the idea of jogging through here at night, it might be nicer than the mile to the city, but running into Jim on a jog just doesn’t sound appealing.

He’s stuck labeling the cons of that idea when he hears it.

“Did you sleep with my boyfriend?”

Gaipa stops abruptly. He’s only just now coming upon the restaurant and although It’s not loud, the voice still echoes through the night street.

There’s always something going on at moonlight chicken, but it’s Christmas. There can’t be an exception for Christmas?

Gaipa weighs an escape in mind, challenging whether following through with this is worth it or not. It’s not like delivering Mom’s dessert to Jim will change anything. He won’t like him any more or any less. The resignation leaves him feeling dejected but—

“Answer me.” The voice is getting louder. “Answer me!”

Gaipa turns the corner and finally sees it, what’s going on. He gets a front row view of the guy with the glasses who lives through that window, slamming his fist, accurate and efficiently, into Jim’s cheek. That sound echoes louder than any voice had.

Wen’s there, grabbing the guy with the glasses by the shoulder, but it’s a stupid move. Gaipa knows how the guy with the glasses reacts when he’s amped like this; he doesn’t think, he doesn’t see, he doesn’t recognize how strong he is. The sight of the punching bag and the figure burned behind his eyes blurs Gaipa’s view of what actually happens when Wen tries to push himself between the two.

The aftermath is Wen on the ground and Jim rushing to his aide. The guy with the glasses does too, gets there first, but he’s pushed aside. It’s the partner, Gaipa realizes. The man who’s left the guy with the glasses sitting alone at the table for weeks now. It’s Wen. And Jim is helping him up.

The guy with the glasses is turning, voices are shouting, Gaipa takes cover behind the wall. He doesn’t want to see that sight, the big mystery all revealed in one night in such a way. It’s Christmas.

The guy with the glasses surrenders, Gaipa sees it in the defeat that stiffens his hiked up shoulders, that broad back, hears it in the anguished scream torn from his throat as he stalks off into the street, looking to get away. Gaipa wants to get away too, but his legs won’t move. It’s Wen. And it’s Jim. And the guy with the glasses walks into the moonlight.

Did you sleep with my boyfriend?

A sigh takes Gaipa’s next breath, a short thing, quiet. It takes his next step home too. He wants to see Ma. It’s Christmas.

The door opens easily under his hand, the lights on and the TV playing something low in the living room. “How’d the delivery go?” Ma asks when he enters the room.

It didn’t, he doesn’t say. He just sighs. He crawls into her lap. She looks at him. She doesn’t say a word. She just pets his head. It’s Christmas. “Merry Christmas Ma.”

“Merry Christmas Honey.” He falls asleep just like that and for a moment, he forgets all about Jim and Wen, but the guy with the glasses, he’s his last thought. Poor guy. Gaipa really hopes he has someone to be with him on Christmas.

“What did I do wrong?” His glasses are foggy. He just doesn’t get it. He can’t see, his glasses are foggy. He takes them off with a swipe, breathes into the night air and watches the fog come from him. His apartment is just up those steps, just through those doors and on the second floor, his home; their home. His home, It’s no longer theirs.

His feet carry him through. He doesn’t expect much as he gets to his door, he didn’t really plan this far ahead, too stuck in reality and the fog to make one; it’s unlike him. But maybe that’s why the little bag of food surprises him.

It’s Christmas, he registers dimly, and there’s a bag sitting in front of his door that smells like food. He doesn’t know who’s left it, can’t even imagine it, not a single person comes to mind, but it doesn’t smell like chicken so. He grabs the by the handle, unlocks his door, and walks inside.

It’s brisk in the apartment. Alan’s always liked it cool, it’s why he keeps the window in the living room open. He likes to hear the birds in the morning and feel the air outside from the comfort of his own home. But lately, home hasn’t been so comforting. Still, he leaves the window open.

He sets the bag on the table and stares at it. It stares back. Should he eat it? It smells good, whatever it is, some type of meat maybe. It’s not chicken.

He opens the bag. It’s beef.

He takes out a fork from the kitchen, sits down in his spot at the table, tucks his tie over his shoulder, and stabs a bit of beef from the tupperware. Someone’s just lost a decently nice container but Alan’s more focused on how good the beef is to really think on that any longer.

It’s good, so good. And it’s warm. He doesn’t know how long it sat there, in front of his door in the hallway, but it’s warm, and it’s good. He takes another bite. He cries as he swallows so he takes another. It’s good.

Yeah, he nods to no one in particular, it’s good.

Gaipa sees a familiar tupperware in the sink for the 4th time by the window that morning. It brings a smile to his face. Ma won’t mind losing it he’s sure, especially not if she knew just how often it’s new owner used it. Seriously though it’s been a week and it’s now become the official lunch box the guy with the glasses eats from.

A couple things have changed since that Christmas night, Gaipa reflects as he notices a new pair of glasses on the man’s face. Gaipa’s kept himself a bit busy since then. The market always gets full around new years and Ma has been working alongside him just as hard. But in the span of holiday rush the guy with the glasses has managed to get himself a cast. Gaipa doesn’t know how he broke his leg but he remembers when.

He’d walked—hobbled—in through that front door like any other day and Gaipa had nearly empaled himself on a pencil trying to get a better look. He hadn’t believed his first glance. But he sees it better now. The guy with the glasses watches his hand as he unscrews a cap from a bottle of water and sits on the couch, gentle.

Gaipa hadn’t seen anyone enter the home to help take care of him which didn’t feel fair. Maybe that’s why the guy with the glasses has a steady supply of tupperware growing on his drying rack. Gaipa had only meant to do it once. Really! But, well, it’s a bit pitiful.

The guy with the glasses can’t cook with only one hand, at least nothing nourishing and he can’t stand comfortable enough to make him want to. It’s no different from the delivery he orders anyway, just healthier, and no chicken. The guy with the glasses didn’t eat the chicken Gaipa sent over the other day so he’s learned better than to send any over. The beef does just fine.

But he seems to be healing well even on his own. Gaipa’s kept an eye out despite the subconscious decision he’d made to not be so attentive to him anymore, it felt rude to stop just as it does to continue. So he compromised. In a way sending over food is similar to what watching over him does. He’s long since resolved that watching the guy with the glasses is no longer a hobby but a way to look after him. And maybe that’s pitiful. But it feels good so he does it.

With that he stretches and gets dressed for the day. He’s got the stall in the morning and then the delivery in the evening and then, he looks at his last finger. He sighs. He doesn’t want to go back to Moonlight Chicken, especially not after Christmas night. He’s done his best to avoid the restaurant but it’s the end of the week and he can’t avoid it when it’s his job.

It doesn’t make sense. Is Jim really a homewrecker? Gaipa couldn’t get the thought out of his head all week. Gaipa just doesn’t understand but…Wen showed up the same time the partner started staying out. It matches. Did Jim know? Gaipa doesn’t want to ask. What does that make him now?

Did you sleep with my boyfriend?

Were Wen and Jim together? Gaipa doesn’t stand a chance. All at once he decides, just as conscious as he was when he recognized his struggle from distancing himself to that window, that he’s not going to get entangled in it. He’s already an observer to the situation so he’s not going to get involved.

He opens up shop like he does everyday. He gives Ma a kiss before she goes out for a delivery, eager to chat up her friends around the market, and he sits and waits for the day to end. The day doesn’t end fast enough. Jim finds him.

“Hey Gaipa.” He greets. Gaipa nods, a polite smile taking his face by practice. “Aunty on a delivery?”

“Yup!” He says. And that’s it. Uncharacteristic sure but Jim doesn’t say a thing. Gaipa didn’t expect him to.

“I, actually. It’s about that lunch you were talking about the other day.” Jim fidgets and Gaipa, Gaipa feels his heart pound. “I was wondering if you had some time today.”

Huh?

“Oh uh,” he checks his watch, then looks back up at Jim’s face. He could close early. He shouldn’t. What would be the purpose? Knowing Jim it’s just lunch. But, “I could close early.” It’s Jim.

He smiles. “How about we talk over a meal, Aunty said you had some leftovers from Christmas.” Gaipa’s forgotten how forward Jim can be.

“Uh yeah!” he smiles despite the fact he doesn’t really feel it, it’s nervous, “yeah we can head over now just let me close up real quick.”

He doesn’t know how this is happening.

Jim takes a sip from his water. Sitting across from him in his home for the first time in a while. Gaipa had anticipated this before, as a date, but, he doesn’t know why he doesn’t feel that same anticipation. He just feels nervous.

“I wanted to talk about the property.” Jim starts.

“Oh, you mean for the loan?”

“Yeah, about that—“

“If you need anything else I can help,” Gaipa’s eager to, really, he wants to help if he can, “Ma went to the bank recently too so—“

“It’s not that.” Jim slows him down, “I might have to change banks anyway actually.”

Gaipa sits back in his seat, “I see.” He grabs a napkin without really thinking about it.

“Mm.” Jim takes another sip of his water. It gets quiet, awkward.

“So, how’s Wen?” That wasn’t what he wanted to say.

“Hm?” Jim looks up, a bit startled. “Oh, he’s,” he hesitates, “good.”

Gaipa nods. “Good.” He takes a sip of his water.

Jim must notice the family photos on the veranda because he brings up Pa.

“I feel like Pa’s still with me too sometimes.“ Gaipa fiddles with the napkin in his hand. “Ma talks about him everyday.”

Jim smiles, a simple nod as he catches his grin. “Is Mrs. Hong feeling lonely?”

“She is,” he admits, “that’s why I don’t go out very often. I stay home to keep her company.”

“You’re a very nice kid Gaipa.”

He looks up, “Am I?” He doesn’t know how to feel. He doesn’t know why he brings it up but, he tells Jim about the story of Ma pursuing Pa. It leaves him feeling a bit hopeful. Maybe that’s why he asks, “If we keep chasing after the one we love, do you think we’ll ever be loved back?”

Jim looks at him and Gaipa knows. Oh. He shouldn’t have asked that, he can read the answer in his eyes and he, truthfully didn’t want to know.

“I think something like this depends on whether they like us or not.” He already knows, it seems so obvious now, “If they’re the right one they’re the right one.”

Yeah. He shouldn’t have said anything. But he’s already got himself this far. He wants to know, “Is it possible for me to be the right one for you?”

It’s not. He knows. Jim tells him so, “I’m sorry, Nong’Gaipa.”

He nods, like he understands. He grabs his glass and sips from it as it seeps from his eyes. The water tastes awful, just real bitter. He manages to keep his composure but, at the end of the day, it really doesn’t make much difference. He’s still been rejected.

“On second thought. I can’t use your feelings like this.” Jim digs the knife in deeper.

“What?”

“I know you want to help,” he does, he really does, “but, it wouldn’t be fair. That’s why I’ve come to give back the documents you gave me.” Jim tells him, revealing the truth behind this lunch after all.

“Oh, I see.” He does, he sees now. It would’ve never worked. God, that’s sad, it really hurts.

Gaipa cleans up the dishes after Jim leaves, ignoring his offer to help. He doesn’t want to indulge in that fantasy, he doesn’t want to bump hips with Jim by his side. He just wants to do the dishes and go to bed, he wants to sleep and wait for the next morning where,,,,where the guy with the glasses will eat all alone.

God, is this what love is? Is this all it has to offer, heart ache? Now all Gaipa wishes for is that it’s the guy with the glasses next to him, doing the dishes, just so that he doesn’t have to be alone. It would be nice.

The guy with the glasses is taller than him, he saw it from the way he stood in the gym, from the way the moonlight touched his chest; it only ever touches Gaipa’s face. He’d be taller than him but he’d lean into his space when he speaks and—Gaipa isn’t much of a daydreamer so he doesn’t really know where he’s going with that thought.

It’s odd but ever since he started watching the guy with the glasses he’s found himself daydreaming. Although it’s not usually something he does, the feeling he gets at the thought of the man with the glasses leaning in to hear him, it’s nice. Daydreaming is nice, Gaipa decides, all at once.

The phone rings.

Gaipa turns around, wipes his hands off on a dish towel and picks up the house phone, “Hello?” He asks into the receiver. It’s from the market, “Oh a delivery right,” he’d totally forgotten about that, “No, yes! I can deliver.” He quickly turns off the sink, putting the last dish on the drying rack. “Yes I’ll be right there.” He hangs up at the same time as he grabs a bag and goes into the freezer. Prepping the order takes a significantly short amount of time, luckily, but he only realizes when he’s halfway to the market that he forgot to lock the front door and he really doesn’t have the time to turn back. He completes the order, with a fair amount of backlogged anxiety, but he completes it nonetheless.

The lady thanks him profusely for his time and all he feels is embarrassed for forgetting his own job because of Jim, a boy. A boy who doesn’t even like him. And that’s a depressing that lingers with him as he walks through the market stalls. It lasts until he runs into Leng, quite literally.

“Oh! Hey Gaipa I didn’t see you there!”

“Clearly.” He huffs but it turns into a smile. Leng sees it and instantly takes it as permission to get clingy, sticking his arm to his neck as he pushes his weight onto him.

“Tough day?” He asks as if he can tell.

“A bit,” Gaipa nods, “I nearly forgot to make a delivery.”

Leng blows a low whistle, “That’s not like you. Something must’ve happened.”

Gaipa doesn’t know if he should say it or not, doesn’t know if he has the words to, but, he figures it’s best to make it real. It’s happened. He has to admit that. “I got rejected.”

Leng stops and looks at him, an understanding dawning instantly, “Oh Gaipa.”

Gaipa nods, a thin smile that says as much as his eyes do. Leng tightens his grip on his shoulders, pulling him in not unlike how Ma does. It’s nice.

“Don’t worry,” Leng pats his shoulder with an emphatic hand, “you’ll meet someone nice soon.” He declares, “You’re a romantic, you can’t go a day without a crush.” Gaipa laughs. Leng is exaggerating but he’s sure that’s how he must look to him so he just nods again.

“Who wouldn’t want this?” He agrees, showing off how actually short he is in the process, “I’m a charm.”

“Damn right!” Leng cheers, “and look at that gold around your neck, you’re gonna be dragging in boys left and right!”

“Oi!” Gaipa giggles trying to escape Leng’s grubby paws going for said necklace. He’s so lost in their play that he doesn’t recognize the shout at first.

“Someone’s collapsed!” They both stop at once, looking for the source of the sound.

“What’s happened?” Leng looks to the side but Gaipa sees it first, the crowd.

He pushes his way through, Leng following behind by his side. “What’s going on?” He asks on his way through when he sees her. “Ma—Ma!” He drops to his knees immediately going to her side. Leng helps thin the crowd, grabbing someone’s phone to call an ambulance.

This can’t be happening. Her face is slack. This can’t be happening.

“She just collapsed!” Someone says. And then the ambulance arrives.

It’s all a haze as they load her in, as they escort him to the hospital, as he sits in the waiting room. It smells like antiseptic. It stings. The air itself burns. He hasn’t stopped crying. She was fine just this morning.

It’s cold in here. He rubs his shoulders, or at least, he thinks about it. He imagines heat rising from his arms as skin bruises skin, the hair electric and standing. It’s cold in here, he can’t even move to warm himself.

The doctor is quiet, slow and patient, like he may startle an animal—nothing wild just lost, like a puppy—as he approaches him. And in that slow voice he says it. “I’m sorry,” he condoles, “she didn’t make it.” As if Gaipa was too fragile to hear she died before they’d even reached her.

He is, he is too fragile to hear it. That’s why it’s terrible that he thought it. He shouldn’t have thought it, because now he knows it’s true. He was too late. There was nothing he could’ve done.

It somehow gets warmer when the doctor walks away. It gets acrid, burning, hot. His face flushed and dry as something boils across his lip. It tastes like salt. He’s sobbing. He can’t hear himself but he can feel it as he heaves, as he curls into his own body and the image of the guy with the glasses punches his gut so hard he hiccups. It sounds across the hall. He gets it, he thinks, he gets it.

His voice echos like the scream of that night but there is no moonlight here. His body stabs itself with its own limbs trying to sink into skin but there is no couch cushion to swallow him. He feels so utterly alone. He gets it, he swallows and chokes, he gets it.

Someone finds him. It doesn’t make him feel better. They grab his arm and walk him out of that hot hospital into the humid outside. It’s so hot all he wants is to rub his skin off. Skin against bruising skin, that hand on his arm feels grounding. He wants more.

But there’s no longer anyone to pull him into their breast when the fog returns. And it’s returned, the fog is here.

“Gaipa.” Jim.

Gaipa watches his arms open and despite the fact that Leng, a nice burning hand on his shoulder, is at his side—the safer option—Jim is tall. He’s tall and Gaipa buries his face into his shoulder to hide himself from the world. He just wants to hide from the fog, and truthfully, it really is the only thing he thinks about. It doesn’t feel like an excuse when he says it’s not Jim because he smells like sweat and sun, but that it’s because he’s tall enough to hide him right now. It’s enough. For now, it’s enough.

The funeral comes so quickly, Gaipa can’t believe it. The entire market is here, that one aunt Ma never really liked and Jim, even Wen is here. It feels like a lot. Gaipa has tried focusing on other things, things that aren’t about the diminishing refreshments or the sheer mass of humanity in this one hall but it’s, a lot. He feels lonely. It feels like a trick.

The fact that there are so many people should be a good thing. Ma was loved in life and adored in death. But, it feels like an excuse. There are people here so he can’t feel so lonely; can’t he? But he does. And it’s a lot. It makes him feel claustrophobic.

God, he can’t even think, but it’s all he’s done this entire time. His emotions feel so heavy that all he can do is think. It’s not like him. He’s never thought this much. This isn’t like him. He can’t feel a thing. He can’t sense a thing.

He knows there are things he should be hearing, smelling, breathing in, but none of it processes the way it should. It’s distorted and hungry and the smell of it all makes him nauseous. He can’t sense a thing. It’s like he’s been stripped of his fundamental being all because he feels, bad— lonely.

So yeah, the funeral sucks. He misses Ma. He wants to go home and he can’t stop thinking about the guy with the glasses because he gets it now and that hurts.

This entire time he’s never got it, he thought he did, thought he could imagine with Jim but imagination has never been his thing. He’s not a dreamer.

If he was he’d dream up Ma. He’d dream up her hand in his hair and her lap under his cheek. But he cant. All he can do is stare at the yellowed skirt of the table that holds her photo and, he can think. A bit. He can think about things he can’t do. But mostly he prefers to think about things happening outside, he’s not a daydreamer so he finds his mind lacking, but outside he can think.

Wen and Jim are refraining from touching each other at any point, almost to a hilarious degree. Gaipa understands the sentiment. He almost appreciates it. Jim’s kid has a friend. That aunty hasn’t stopped crying since she stepped foot in the hall, Gaipa wonders why Ma hated her so much. There’s a stain on the skirt of the table in front of him. These are things he can think about, but none of them are problems he needs to solve, like the house, the shop, the funeral cost.

Gaipa isn’t a problem solver. He’s barely an analyst. He’s just, Gaipa. And he’s just a kid. He feels the gut punch that that is but it’s nothing but true. He’s just a kid and he’s lost his Ma. He doesn’t want to solve anything right now. He doesn’t want to ever solve it. He just wants his Ma. Can’t someone else do it? Can’t someone else handle all the thinking and the problems and the hard things? He just wants to feel again.

He wants to feel his tears and heart break and to stop thinking . He’s not like this, this isn’t like him. He’s just a kid.

There’s a stain on the skirt in front of him. A burning hand takes him from it. His head snaps up and a girl appears. She looks at him with a smooth face and speaks gently, “There’s someone asking for you.” Her head tilts as she looks so he follows and—glasses. Gaipa stands. It’s him.

Gaipa’s leg is stiff and numb as he walks the single step it takes to look him in the eye, up, and up—he was right, he’s tall; the guy with the glasses. Seeing the cast and crutch up close feels odd. Recognizing at once that the guy with the glasses is the most attractive man he’s ever met, is odder. Especially with Jim only a couple steps away.

“My name is Alan,” The guy with the glasses has a name. That shouldn’t be so strange but it is.

Alan, Gaipa takes that word and sticks it behind his cheek to taste later. Alan, he won’t ever forget that. What is the guy with the glasses, what is Alan, doing here at his Ma’s funeral? Had he figured him out? That thought was troubling but he didn’t feel anxious, just, curious, a bit emotionally numb, and, his neck hurt; from looking up, up, up—he’s tall. Gaipa was right.

“I’m the financial advisor in charge of your mother’s personal affairs.” Gaipa was wrong. He hadn’t figured him out. Didn’t really change anything. He was still curious.

The bank, maybe Alan was the guy Ma tried hooking him up with. A funny thought in a bleak moment. Gaipa can’t think properly, he’s never been good at it.

“I’m so sorry for your loss.” Alan’s voice brings him back, back to sensing and feeling and, he sounds like he is, sorry—genuine.

Gaipa feels warm, like that sensation of his voice physically touches him. It feels like it means something, anything, more than what he’s been told before. He’s heard the same condolence over and over today, but this is different. This is the guy with the glasses, and he’s been through hell. Gaipa thinks, maybe, just maybe, Alan recognizes the look Gaipa wears. Grief, suffering. Loss.

“I wanted to ask you to come into the bank at your earliest convenience.”

Gaipa blinks. “Ah,” Right, prior business. “Mm,” He’d gotten lost in the feel of it all. “Yes I mean, yes. I will.” He nods, to clear his head as well as to hide his embarrassing daze.

Alan’s fingers are long, “Here’s my card.” His hand must be soft, smooth, he’s a numbers guy. Gaipa likes smooth hands, he’s just decided.

Gaipa only stalls for a moment, then he holds that small card in his hands and looks up—he’s tall—and god, distance doesn’t do him justice, holy shit. His glasses sit on his nose just high enough to magnify the lights in his eyes. His skin is smooth and his nose connects to a cupids bow that only draws attention to a perfect mouth and—Gaipa blinks, once, then looks down.

He tweaks the card in his hand with his thumb and nods to Alan who takes this moment to excuse himself, leaving Gaipa alone to think. No, he’s not thinking much right now, he’s distinctly trying not to think. Instead he’s feeling, a lot, maybe too much. Fuck. He falls too fast.

His head comes up with his chest and as he catches his breath he makes eye contact with Ma’s picture. Oh Ma, he should’ve taken her advice sooner. Maybe banker’s are the way to go. He doesn’t look that much older anyway; a funny thought in a bleak moment.

Gaipa goes in to see Alan on a sunny Tuesday.

A part of him is excited to see him, a feeling similar to how he’s felt coming home and waiting by the window. Another part feels warm, that feeling he got when Alan had given him his condolence. A sense of, I get it. Gaipa thinks he needs a little ‘I get it’ right now. Especially after he woke up in Ma’s bed. He still feels cold, as if her quilt was only ever warm because of her body. It’s not enough; it didn’t even smell like her.

But he can admit he’s been putting it off, apprehensive, nervous. Gaipa practically knows this guy’s entire life, of the past year. He’s watched his relationship flourish and fall apart all through the window in his bedroom. But he’s also the last link to Ma, and this is finances about his home and life. It’s important, he can’t avoid it forever.

So he goes and he refuses to watch the guy with glasses get ready to head out that morning, he’d watched him enough the night before.

On his way to the bank, Gaipa wonders if it would be more weird to tell him about it than to not. All at once Ma’s gentle chiding tickles his ear and he, god, he just about breaks down on the bus. But he doesn’t. He makes it all the way to the bank.

It’s sunny out and it’s Tuesday, those are two facts he’s certain of as he enters the teller’s office. A lady leads him down a row of doors and rather than feeling out of place, Gaipa gets this sense of feeling bigger than usual. He never knew the bank was so, small. He wonders if Ma ever thought that way.

The door she leaves him at has a name plate. The guy with the glasses has a name. Alan, it’s still stuck behind his teeth. He knocks, instead of calling that name out. It feels more appropriate. His voice, familiar yet foreign, calls for him to enter.

I know you, Gaipa thinks, as he stares at the man before him, glasses on his nose, hair combed and tie wrestled into submission as if it was easy—Gaipa knows it isn’t. Gaipa knows that the man before him often fights with that very tie, he knows the picture frame faced down on that desk probably has Wen in it. Gaipa knows this man was engaged, promised, in love only a year ago, but that smile—Gaipa has never known this smile before.

“Mr. Gaipa, take a seat.” That unfamiliar yet warm voice calls and like a moth to flame, Gaipa follows.

He finds the seat easily despite being unable to look away much, his attractiveness is distracting. Alan’s smile slips into something more professional as he settles in but Gaipa’s still left a bit dazed. Does he greet everyone that way? He wonders.

“I should confess,” Alan starts, “I knew of you before this.” Gaipa looks up, a bit stunned. He couldn’t mean—“I knew your mother well.” Ah.

Gaipa nods, stunned face turning a bit soft at her mention. “I apologize for that,” he looks down, trying to gather his composure—if he had any to begin with, “I’m sure it was all against your will.”

Alan shakes his head, that close lipped smile tugging his skin smooth. “Initially maybe, I’d never met anyone so expressionistic as her, but it was fun.” Those eyes are wistful.

Gaipa understands why he showed up at the funeral now. What he doesn’t understand is how he could’ve missed such a huge relationship in the guy with the glasses’ life, in his own mother’s life.

So this really was the banker she’d mentioned. He wondered how she found out Alan was gay. He wondered if she knew that he lived in that apartment complex next door. He wondered just how much she knew.

“I apologize if my bringing her up is impolite, I wouldn’t want to touch a fresh wound…,” Alan speaks suddenly.

“Oh no!” Gaipa reassures quickly, “Nothing like that! Ma is, she’s someone who deserves to be brought up at all moments. It makes me happy she had such close friends in every corner of her life.”

Alan looks relieved and understanding at the same time. “She was the type, definitely.”

“Boisterous and outgoing.” Gaipa supplies.

“Very much so.” Alan agrees. “I don’t know how much is professional to say but, she actually requested me because of you.”

Gaipa’s ears prick, “Because of me?”

“Yes, she was adamant about what would happen after her passing, she wanted someone her son could get along with so she requested the only queer man in the firm.”

Ah. “Ah,” Gaipa is so shocked that he has no control over the burst of laughter that comes from him. He’s only just struggling to get his breath back as his mind speaks for him, “—that woman, I am so sorry—!”

“No!” Alan reassures, “Don’t be! Really, she helped me feel more confident in myself than anything.”

Gaipa hums, “I could see that, if she can scold me to get a boyfriend long enough to push me into selling chicken than I’m sure she could impart some gay spirit into a salary man living in a stone jungle.” Alan stares at him and Gaipa feels immediately that he’s said too much.

“You know what?” Alan’s smiling, “You may be right about that.” Gaipa breathes. “I’ve never heard the city described like that before by the way, so I think she was right in choosing me. I feel we’ll get along very well.”

Gaipa’s lip twitches, huh, “Is that so?”

Alan’s eyes shine, they positively sparkle, “Very much so.”

No business actually happens that day, only because, as Alan reassures, it was only a consultation and the documents he needs will take a week to acquire, so they schedule their next meeting a week out in advance.

Gaipa always has so little to look forward to, so having an appointment actually feels really nice. And knowing that it’s with Alan makes him feel a bit confident in the date, in a way he knows Alan and he knows Alan won’t cancel on him and forget to make new plans.

That must be why he’s in such good spirits walking into the bank on a Friday evening with the documents and some takeout.

He was initially going to bring leftovers from the shop but Gaipa easily decided against ever giving Alan chicken and instead ordered a beef soup from the stall next door. It was always his personal favorite so he wanted to share. That wasn’t odd, right?

Gaipa often times felt he came off a bit strong, but most just interpreted him as friendly, which is true! But, it’s also true that he’s interested in Alan in a way that’s a bit beyond professional. Gaipa has an interesting view of him after all, and, well, he’s tall. Sue him for wanting to be nice to the man who just got out of a bad breakup and is a little bit his type!

Gaipa was arguing with the wall. It was useless to rationalize his feelings, he wasn’t so good at thinking. That’s why he left the chiding to Ma, but he hasn’t heard a thing from her about this; the inner voice that sounds like her is unusually quiet.

It’s frustrating is what it is. Gaipa feels as if he’s done something wrong, he knows he has. He’s spied on Alan for over a year and now, he’s developed this unwanted crush on him. Gaipa wishes it wasn’t any worse than that but, Alan thinks of Gaipa as his Ma’s sweet son! And that’s why he’s treating him so nicely. That’s somehow worse than being viewed like a kid by Jim.

Anyway the beef soup isn’t getting any warmer standing outside Alan’s office and Gaipa is an emotional guy before anything else so he lets his instinct drive him. He’s going to feed this guy so well for the duration that they know each other.

Alan sits prim at his desk, writing something on a document, color coded, with a pen Gaipa’s seen before—it must’ve come from home. Alan looks up at the sound of the door and the confusion in the line of his open mouth melts at the sight of Gaipa lifting a bag of food. Alan smiles. Gaipa is melting instead.

“You made it.” Alan gestures a hand toward the chair before him, “Have a seat.”

Gaipa nods, setting the food on an open spot on the desk and slipping into that seat. “I figured bankers must get hungry.”

“So that’s what that delicious smell was.”

“Well it’s not me, I sell chicken all day.” Alan must be gaping but Gaipa is too focused on trying not to feel embarrassed by his impulsivity that it only barely registers as a laugh.

“I’m not a big fan of chicken.” Alan admits.

I know, Gaipa doesn’t say. “Me neither.” He says instead.

Alan raises a brow, “And yet?”

Gaipa sighs and nods, “I sell it I know, an oxymoron, really though I don’t sell it for the chicken, it was at first to spend more time with Ma but,” but,, Gaipa’s not here to share his life story. “I wouldn’t want to waste your time—“ but Alan doesn’t look a single bit regretful for asking.

“You can continue,” Alan encourages, reaching for the soup bag, “you brought me food to eat so I might as well eat it with you.”

Gaipa blinks then, “Ah, of course! Here I also brought some bowls from the shop since I had some on me.”

They quickly distribute the food, singing praise of the taste before Alan, truly expertly, delves back into the topic of Gaipa and his chicken shop.

“You said it was because of Mrs. Hong at first right? What became of it after?”

Gaipa sets down his spoon, “The people. I liked the people, meeting new ones and greeting old ones every morning. It’s also predictable while also being unique every day. I like the comfort consistency brings but it’d get a bit boring if it was just paper work each and every day—no offense,” Gaipa says as if he knew Alan wouldn’t take offense to it but felt the need to say it anyway.

Alan laughs, most likely being able to tell it wasn’t meant genuinely but polite all the same. “None taken,” he says anyway, “I understand being a bank teller isn’t for everyone. I just like the numbers.”

Gaipa grins, “So you are a numbers guy.”

Alan smiles, “What ever gave you that impression?”

The table in the dark of night illuminated by a single lamp, acquainted by the empty chair, a pen between his fingers as he scribbled for hours, long charts and smooth hands. Gaipa blinks. “Well you work at a bank.” He says, “I just, assumed.”

Alan nods, looking down at his nearly finished soup, “Makes sense.”

“Right, so, I brought the documents.”

It all goes by very quickly with Alan’s help. Gaipa knew bank stuff was complicated but Alan made it look, somehow even more complex but he reassured him with his competence. Alan would handle it all.

All Gaipa had to do had been done, bring over the required documents and that was that. A bit disappointing if Gaipa was allowed to be honest with himself, but also—he takes a large sip of the water Alan had called over for him—refreshing.

It must be because Alan handles it. All the hard stuff and the thinking and the problems, he solves them. The water tastes beyond delicious.

Gaipa’s just getting ready to leave when somehow, they exchange chat IDs. Ma hadn’t been brought up in conversation much this time, which was only odd because Gaipa assumed that would be their main topic to each other. It was the only thing they had in common anyway and it was the only reason Alan would want to get along with him.

But, he asks for his number. Of course, to gather more documents, just in case, and yet, Gaipa’s heart flutters. He’s excited. He has the guy with the glasses’ number. God, there must be something wrong with him.

Gaipa walks out through the main hall, head stuck in a daze, when his phone buzzes. He pats his pockets, quickly finding it in his back pocket. It opens by face and the first message he sees is, Alan.

I’m afraid Headquarters is going to need something more from you, would it be alright to meet outside of the bank when you’re next free? Also, that beef broth was delicious. You should introduce me to where you got it.

Alan, God. Gaipa’s lip twitches, brow furrowing, is this what he thinks it is? No way, it can’t be. He looks up from his phone, feeling unexpectedly, entirely, giddy. Alan. Huh. He responds immediately then puts his phone away, he’s got a reservation to make.

He knows taking Alan to Jim’s isn’t the smartest because of course Wen is going to be there and it’s Jim, Gaipa knows how Alan feels about Jim, but , it’s a Saturday night and all the good restaurants are booked or ostentatiously inappropriate for whatever this meeting could be described as. So instead of crying about it Gaipa introduces Jim to the beef broth Gaipa really likes and watches him get inspired enough to add it to the menu.

“I’m just saying it’s great to have options other than chicken! I’m even thinking of selling other meat options too so I could supply you!”

Jim had given him a once over, probably surprised by his sudden passion but, “Alright,” he’d given in, “because it’s you, I’ll give it a try.” Once upon a time that would’ve made Gaipa feel like he had a chance, right now it just makes him glad Alan won’t have to suffer through a chicken meal in an already bad reservation.

Gaipa really hopes this is a date. Part of him recognizes he could be getting ahead of himself, Alan’s only just gotten through that mess of a breakup and who says he’s entirely over it? But, Gaipa is a romantic at heart and he really just hopes the guy he likes is at least a little interested in him back. And maybe, if it all goes well, they can laugh about the creepy spying Gaipa did during the year!

Just the thought makes him want to curl up and die. But Ma wouldn’t allow it, she beat him to it anyway. “Alright,” he gives in, “I won’t, I’ll be good.” Her picture stares at him from her bed. “I promise, and I’ll be nice, I won’t creep him out.” Gaipa doesn’t know what Ma would say to that but, he hopes it’d be something reassuring and not another chide. He could use some reassurance. Especially after losing his latest comfort.

He’s been spending his nights in Ma’s room so he hasn’t been watching Alan, god, he honestly can’t even think about it without feeling guilty. He knows the guy now. But, he still gets the urge. It’d be a comfort.

He sighs, turning into the pillow below him. He can’t breathe like this. He prefers it that way.

The evening doesn’t come fast enough but once its there Gaipa feels late. He’s not, he’s been at the food truck watching Jim set up and acting frantic even though he’s not in charge of anything that could go wrong.

“You should settle down, the beef soup will turn out fine.”

“This isn’t about the soup—“ but Gaipa catches himself before he starts gushing boy talk with Jim. That would not go over well knowing one) Jim thinks of Gaipa as a child incapable of romanticism without considering it some form of pedophilia and two) said boy is Jim’s current lover’s ex who also totally punched him in the face on Christmas so, Gaipa bites his tongue.

Jim shoots him a glance but otherwise says nothing. It’s almost annoying. Gaipa knows Jim recognizes the moments in which he should say something, speak, even just a little, a question maybe. But he doesn’t.

It might be because Gaipa’s not worth knowing more about but he’s starting to get the feeling it doesn’t happen to just him. It doesn’t bother him much anymore though, he moves on pretty quickly anyway. Jim is a distant memory and considerably less attractive then the man walking up the road—tall. Alan’s here.

Gaipa quickly jumps down from the counter he was sitting on and opens the door of the food truck, going to greet Alan when he sees Wen’s beat him to it. That’s not great, nor what Gaipa had planned for. It was actually the one possibility he dreaded most. Why did the first face Alan sees have to be Wen’s?

“Alan!” Gaipa nearly trips over his feet in his haste to make it over. It doesn’t look heavy from afar but the tension is palpable. “You made it!” Gaipa tries a smile on for unthreatening and maybe to make Alan smile back but, he looks like he’s been transported back to that table all alone and Gaipa wishes he could punch Wen the way Alan did Jim and that is a threatening thought so he takes the initiative by the hand and drags Alan away from that experience.

“A Friend”, echoes in Gaipa’s mind even as they sit at a table Gaipa had pre-picked. It doesn’t feel good to be lied to but it feels worse knowing Gaipa caused this. He should’ve just invited him over for dinner at his place.

Alan is the first to break out of the odd air that’s fallen on the table. “This looks nice.” He says.

Gaipa doesn’t know if he means it but it does. Gaipa had checked it out himself when Jim was setting up. It doesn’t look any different from the other tables which is less threatening in case this isn’t a date but it’s still got a nice mood.

Gaipa’s honestly a little lost, a little tired, stressed really. He just wants to fall to the floor a little, maybe, cry probably. But he can’t, Alan is here and and Wen and Jim are probably watching them. That makes this all harder, if it were a date. He doesn’t even know if it really is or not. There’s the stress.

“Khun Gaipa?” Alan.

Gaipa looks up, “Hm?”

Their eyes watch each other for a moment, Alan has a scrutinizing gaze, Gaipa’s noticed; like he can see through him, or like he’s trying to. It’s different from Jim’s avoidant eye contact.

“I was just asking to see the documents.” Alan says, those eyes curling a bit politely and Gaipa immediately snaps out of it.

“Oh! Right—“ he reaches next to the chair and holds out the manila folder. “I hope that’s everything.”

Alan’s smile is reassuring, “I’m sorry they asked for more, it’s procedure.”

“I understand.” Gaipa smiles, truly unbothered. So it wasn’t a date. Maybe he’s a little bothered.

Or at least he wasn’t until Leng showed up, “You become rich once you date a bank teller right?”

Gaipa nearly hits him. “You’re being rude, don’t say unnecessary things.”

“Woah, alright, I’ll back off!” Leng says that but he obviously doesn’t mean it because he teases Gaipa til his wife calls and honestly, he wants to go home. This is hopeless. There’s no point in Gaipa making a fool of himself any longer when nothing will change. It’s never a date. That’s what Gaipa’s learned. He should stop getting his hopes up.

“These should be all the documents I need.” Alan clips the last binding closed.

“Ah, mm, good.” Gaipa shakes his head just a bit to bring his head back. This is no time to disappear.

“I know we never specified what this was—“ huh? “But if you’d like a real date,” Gaipa looks up, Alan’s eyes are reflected by the lights around them, “I’m free on most Fridays.”

“You mean,” Gaipa swallows and just about loses his tongue, “you’d like to go on a date with me?”

Alan looks flustered, he fixes his glasses tapping at that folder on the table, “We could’ve exchanged the documents at the bank but, I might’ve wanted to see you outside as well so, if I can find another excuse to see you, I’ll use it.”

Gaipa doesn’t know what to say, he’s not really thinking, he just feels, really warm—excited; like he wants to kiss Alan right on the face. “Fridays you said.”

Alan’s smile is beautiful in its wide birth, “Fridays.” And then it starts raining.

They barely get out of the down poor long enough to come up with a plan. Gaipa watches Jim and Wen frantically close up the truck as him and Alan talk under a nearby storefront. “I didn’t bring my car today.”

“I brought mine,” Gaipa offers, “if you’d like me to take you home.”

Alan’s stare feels seeing, knowing, intense. He nods, “I’d like that.”

Gaipa tries to act like he doesn’t know where he’s going but halfway on a wild goose chase of a gps Alan discovers he’s missing his house keys. “I’m really sorry to trouble you like this.”

“It’s no trouble at all,” Gaipa assures, and he breathes a little better driving past that apartment complex. But as he pulls into his driveway he realizes his mistake.

“I never realized you lived so close.” Gaipa does swallow his tongue this time. “Well I guess it makes sense, it’s good to be near the market right?”

He was referring to the food truck?

“Yes, it’s nice when I can just jog to work some days.” Gaipa turns off the car, measuring the rain outside. “We’re gonna have to make a run for it.”

He turns to Alan to find him already looking, a smooth smirk on his face, “I’m prepared.”

Gaipa falls in love just a little bit.

The rain is heavy and by the time they’re inside the front door they’re both soaked. Gaipa rings the water from his hair as he watches Alan untie his shoes, leaving them at the front door.

“There’s a bathroom on the second floor,” Gaipa takes off his own shoes, “I’ll show you where, you can shower there,” He drops his keys into the basket on the counter, clicking on the lights as he walks through, “I may have some clothes that’ll fit you.”

Alan nods, following politely behind. The bathroom isn’t too big but it’s connected to Gaipa’s room so he let’s Alan change in his room while Gaipa finishes up in Ma’s shower. It’s only as he’s drying off and brushing his teeth that he remembers; the window. “Shit!”

He doesn’t de-cap his knee trying to put his clothes on and get out of the bathroom but it’s a close thing. His room’s door is wide open. Alan’s not there. Gaipa breathes. After a quick cursory glance, he goes downstairs.

He uses the towel around his neck to dry at the water on the base of his neck, trying to unclog his ears at the same time. Alan’s voice catches him off guard, “Did you know your window points directly at where I live?”

Shit.

Gaipa sighs. He flings the towel back around his neck, looks at Alan’s curious gaze, and then down at his bare feet. He can’t keep this up, “We should talk.”

Alan blinks, seemingly noticing the air shift he nods, “Alright.”

They sit on the couch, Gaipa in Ma’s corner and Alan next to him. He’s been staring at a spot on the coffee table for a while now and Gaipa’s wondering if he should just lock himself away for the rest of the night when Alan looks up.

“I am surprised yes,” he starts slow. “it’s a bit hard to imagine even, really,” his brow furrows, almost like he’s trying to. “but in a way,” he picks at his thumb, “I guess that makes us similar.” He looks up at Gaipa, his glasses are low on his nose and his hair is pushed behind one ear, wet strands falling stuck to his face, Gaipa’s distracted but what Alan says shocks him out of it, “I learned about a lot of things through your mother of you, things you probably wouldn’t have told me yourself so,” Alan smiles, “call it even?”

“Really?” Gaipa can’t breathe. “Seriously?” He feels oddly upset. “That’s, but I—I took advantage and, I ruined your privacy.”

“You sent me food on Christmas after witnessing me punch the man you were in love with.”

Gaipa blinks, “How’d you know about Jim?”

“See?” Alan’s brow points, “Even.”

Huh. Maybe, that really all there was to it. “I’m embarrassed.” Gaipa picks at his thumb, not recognizing he’s mimicking Alan; he’s distracted.

“Honestly I am a bit too.” Alan breathes, it sounds like a laugh, albeit nervous, “I can’t believe you saw all that,”

“I’m sorry—“

“I was at my worst and yet, you still went out with me tonight. I’d have expected you’d want to change bankers even.” Alan says, looking back to that spot on the coffee table.

“No,” Gaipa says, “it’s not like that!” Gaipa just wants Alan to look back at him, “You were hurting of course you’re—Alan.” It feels important to say it, to say it like this, “You did not deserve what you went through. You do not to deserve to be blamed for it either. Sure you had your moments, punching Jim wasn’t smart nor rational, but you weren’t always like that. It’s creepy I know but I watched you everyday. And everyday you came home and you didn’t break his things or wreck the house, you broke yourself. You would sit for hours waiting for him and thinking, and you’d dance and, you’d—“ he’s crying, not Alan but Gaipa. “I just, I watched you for so long and I always wanted to tell you, you did nothing wrong.” Gaipa sniffs, unable to look up any more, too embarrassed by how invested he was in this man’s life before he’d even met him.

A hand touches his shoulder, holds him tightly and slowly pulls. Gaipa looks up and watches as Alan shrinks. He’s crying, so silently. Gaipa’s hand moves on its own, gently touching the top of his head and bringing him in, holding him. Alan’s grip is tight and Gaipa can feel his hiccups through his body but it’s comfort. It’s comfort.

“We’re okay,” Gaipa whispers, thinking of that bitter water and the lonely chair in Alan’s apartment, “We’re okay.” He repeats, reassurance. They’ll be okay, even without them. They did nothing wrong.

“We’re okay,” Alan hiccups, nose digging into Gaipa’s shoulder. His grip tightens, “We’re okay.”

“That’s right,” Gaipa sniffles, “We don’t need them.”

“We have each other.” Alan says it like a realization.

Gaipa nods, hand coursing through Alan’s hair, cheek resting against his, “We have each other.”

They cry so much that once their done their nearly dehydrated. Gaipa pours them some water. It tastes revitalizing.

“This is the best water I’ve ever had.” Alan hums.

Gaipa nods, “Agreed.” His eyes glisten. Alan’s staring. “What?” Gaipa asks.

“You’re pretty when you cry.”

Gaipa is so drained he doesn’t even feel embarrassed. “You should see yourself.” His head turns and soon his hip with it and then, Gaipa curls his entire side into the couch cushions just so he can stare at Alan better.

“You’re the most beautiful man I’ve ever met.”

Alan’s posture mirrors him. His ears are red, like Gaipa’s caught him off guard, but they’re both too exhausted to care much for what they’re saying right now. Alan especially, “I thought Wen was God’s best creation, but I hadn’t met you yet. I shouldn’t have been so quick to formulate an opinion like that.”

Gaipa huffs, “You’re cheesy.” He pushes Alan’s shoulder half heartedly.

“You’re cheesier.” Alan pushes back, hand losing energy half way through leaving it to rest on his breast and fall, slowly. It leaves Gaipa tingly.

He gulps. “I want to kiss you.”

Alan nods, something small, something gentle, “Me too.” His eyes sparkle, “But I don’t have the energy to make it over to you, you’re gonna have to come over here.”

Gaipa nods, and then he crawls. It’s a short distance but it feels like forever til he’s in Alan’s arms, curled into his side, hands wrapped into the collar of his shirt. His top lip is soft but the bottom is bitten. Gaipa wants to bite it more. He doesn’t. But he is kissed. It’s delicious.

They quickly lose energy though, falling against each other, into each other, slowly cuddling to get comfortable to pass out. And that’s exactly what happens.

The sun wakes Gaipa first, the smell of something delicious is what makes him open his eyes. There’s a quilt over Gaipa and a shirt under his head, it smells like cologne, something only a salary man could afford. Alan.

Gaipa stretches as he sits up, looking around through squinted eyes. Alan is in the kitchen, cooking. He follows the smell, like moth to flame. Alan is there, tall, sleeves rolled up as he works at the stove. It’s eggs and something crispy, chicken?

“I thought you hated chicken.”

“Thank you for knowing that about me,”

Gaipa winces, “Wait—hey! No you told me that yourself.”

Alan’s smirk is hidden by his shoulder til Gaip comes around, “I was just curious,” he glances up and Gaipa sees clearly the trap he hadn’t before. “Anyway, it was all you had thawed.”

“Ah, right the leftovers from the shop.”

Alan looks at him out of the corner of his eye, a twitch to his lip. “Your hair is down.”

“It’s long I know, I should cut it.” Gaipa pouts.

Alan turns over a something in the pan, “I like it, it’s fluffy.”

“It’s soft too.” Gaipa agrees, only half enticing as he resists the urge to touch Alan’s broad back.

“It might catch fire in the kitchen~” Alan sing songs.

Gaipa just about jumps, thinking he knows exactly where this is going when he realizes, “The flame is off.”

Alan laughs, “Took you a while to notice.”

Gaipa shakes his head, “It’s too early for this.” And then he promptly forgets all resistance he holds and attaches himself to Alan’s back. There is no admonishment or arm pushing him away, if anything Alan sort of leans back into his arms and is it meant to feel this natural? They’ve barely met and yet.

Well, Gaipa’s not complaining, he’s just looking for some kind of validation to prove he’s not delusional. “You feel it too don’t you?” Gaipa mumbles between Alan’s shoulder blades.

“You, yes.”

“Our connection?”

A moment, it passes, quietly Alan says it, his thought, “I do. I did even before I met you. I didn’t think I could trust it.”

“Ah, you get it. It’s scary isn’t it?”

“It is,” Alan admits, “but it’s also…”

“Comfort.”

Alan agrees with a hum. Gaipa feels warm.

The food is delicious, that Gaipa will say at least a hundred more times. “It’s been more like a thousand, but honestly I’ve lost count of how many compliments you’ve given the food. I’m the one who cooked it yknow.”

“You know I’m really complimenting you Alan.”

“Is that so Gaipa?” Who knew the guy with the glasses would be so sassy. They fit so well it almost feels like they’ve known each other for years. “Oi! That’s mine!”

“You don’t even like chicken?” Gaipa smiles, trying to avoid Alan’s arm reaching over the table.

Alan laughs, “Neither do you!”

“Au! That’s my secret!”

“You told me that too!”

Gaipa pouts as if he’s wrong. Alan is in the end unsuccessful, Gaipa eats his chicken. But he doesn’t seem much bothered, he gives his last piece to Gaipa in the end anyway.

Gaipa smiles, “You just like to fight for fun don’t you?” 

“Defamation is lawsuit worthy.” Alan takes a bite of his egg.

“You’re such a little!” Gaipa giggles and Alan smiles. Breakfast is nice. Gaipa can imagine doing this everyday, he’d never be late. “So,” Gaipa finishes off his water, “any plans for the day?”

“Call a locksmith to get me into my house.”

“Oh, so that wasn’t an excuse?”

Alan smiles, “Initially yeah, I only realized I’d lost them this morning.”

Alan does this weird thing that Gaipa almost can’t keep up with, he validates him. He erases his fear of being “the only one” in any scenario. Reciprocity. Alan reciprocates Gaipa and he consistently, persistently, asks and answers him. Conversation. Conversation with Alan is receptive and never ending. Gaipa feels like he’s getting ahead of himself. This is too fast isn’t it?

“I think,” Alan starts, “whatever this is between us, we should take it slow.”

It’s like he can read minds. “I agree.” He does, Gaipa has been thinking about this a lot actually.

“Good,” Alan smiles, that charming little thing, “then, next Wednesday? Date at mine? You know where I live.” He’s so cheeky Gaipa could kiss him, oh how he wants to.

Gaipa bites back his grin, “What happened to Friday?”

Alan nods, faking deliberation, “Friday’s too far away.” He decides.

Gaipa nods, a smile, satisfied, “Move it to Thursday, you clean on Wednesdays.”

“Oh you’re right,” Alan snaps his fingers then blinks, “I’d nearly forgotten. Thursday then.” He smiles.

Gaipa smiles back, reciprocity, “Thursday.”

It’s Tuesday afternoon when they see each other next. “I was in the area so I figured I’d come by.” Had been Alan’s excuse for today.

“I’ll close early.” Gaipa says, immediately.

“No! You don’t have to,” Alan insists, “really I should’ve been mindful of your schedule. I just, I wanted to see you.” It’s cute is what it is, real cute.

Gaipa gulps. “I’m closing right now, want to get lunch?”

Alan stares, his eyes are so beautiful, “I’d love to.”

The beef broth that Gaipa is only slightly addicted to is in the next stall over. Alan really can’t disagree, there’s no way he’s not also slightly addicted to it after all. And while they’re eating, Gaipa gets acquainted with the aunty running the stall.

“Of course I knew your mother, she and I were the biggest competitors on the plot! That is until I switched to beef, but if you go getting any ideas that rivalry is gonna become generational.”

Gaipa keeps his mouth shut, because he already has beef in the freezer. Alan must be able to tell something from his expression because he also has to bite back a smile. He fails, oh how he fails, and how glad Gaipa is to see it. He is so beautiful.

They take a walk around the market with full bellies. Gaipa’s not sure where they’re going but Alan had stood from their table walking to the mouth of the road, stopped, looked back and waited for Gaipa. And Gaipa, like moth to bright burning flame, well, he could do nothing but follow.

It’s nice out, bright, meagerly warm. The sun chimes sparkle and the light breeze that comes through makes them twinkle too.

“Oh! No way!” Gaipa points immediately distracted, “This is my favorite stall! They have wind chimes here—“ he’s close to dragging Alan inside but hesitates, he nearly got off track there. He clears his throat, “Where were we going again?” Gaipa steps back, sticking himself to Alan’s side in case Gaipa gets the idea to run off again. It feels heavy when he thinks of the embarrassment he’s just caused, like an overexcited kid, but Alan is looking at him.

“Didn’t you want to see the wind chimes?” Alan points in the direction with his nose, an easy nod, before turning back to look Gaipa. He never takes his eyes off him.

“Huh?”

Alan smiles something soft before heat trails down Gaipa’s forearm. Fingers find themselves tickling his palm until, Alan intertwines his hand with his. And then, gently, he tugs him over to the wind chimes. Gaipa’s chest feels heavy, now, for an entirely different reason.

He feels like he wants to kiss.

He holds back, only because he doesn’t know Alan’s boundaries on PDA but, he thinks back to that night and, god, yeah. It’s enough for now.

Gaipa hadn’t planned on buying anything, and he hadn’t, but Alan bought just about anything he looked at. Just about luckily because Gaipa was able to slow him down. He wasn’t truly free though, he did leave with at least one wind chime and a sun dial.

“They’ll look beautiful on Mrs. Hong’s porch.” Alan had insisted and well, Gaipa couldn’t disagree. Alan actually walks him all the way home and Gaipa only half remembers driving to the market. It’s no bother, he’ll get the car in the morning. For now, Alan is setting up the wind chime for him because he’s tall enough to reach.

“You’re staring.” Alan doesn’t even need to turn around to tell. Gaipa’s almost glad, the view is nice.

“You’re tall.” He says, like it answers anything.

“I am,” Alan responds, as if it did, “and that’s your thing isn’t it?”

Gaipa blinks, “Hm?”

Alan pauses, a moment, before in a voice that sounds like he’s trying to not grin, “Aunty told me.”

Gaipa sighs, immediately, his cheeks aflame, “You know I really think I got the short end of the stick in this whole spying on each other thing.” Gaipa whines, “Ma had way more information on me then I ever got just from watching you.”

Alan leans back down, looking away from the now hung windchime, “That just sounds like you want to know more about me.” His eyes are bright.

“I do.” Gaipa challenges, staring up at Alan.

Alan smiles. “I’ll tell you, anything you want, just ask.”

Gaipa blinks, there’s one thing, he bites his tongue, “I can’t think of anything.”

“Mrs. Hong told me you bite your mouth when you’re lying.” Gaipa releases his tongue. “I tend  to avoid eye contact when I lie, or my hand twitches.” Gaipa doesn’t realize how close they are til now, Alan’s buttons are undone a few.

Gaipa’s lashes kiss, “You go to the gym when you’re frustrated.”

Alan smiles, “You can’t paint,” he nods, as if he’s seen the portraits himself, “but you like to draw on unconventional things because it gives you a sense of control in an out of control situation.”

Gaipa turns his head, curious, “How did that come up in conversation?”

Alan hums, “She was giving me advice because I was frustrated that day.”

“She told you to paint on your mirrors didn’t she.”

“That was an option yes.”

“And the other?” Gaipa asks.

Alan grins, “To go on a date.”

“Oh god she didn’t—“

“She said her son was very good at providing entertaining and fun company.” Alan’s nodding along to the memory now, seemingly adoring the way Gaipa is shriveling up with embarrassment.

“She did didn’t she.” Gaipa wants to crawl into a couch cushion, “She tried setting us up.” He wishes he’d said yes sooner just to avoid this conversation.

“I only said no because I didn’t want to arrange something one sidedly.” Alan says, surprisingly rational after all his teasing.

Gaipa sobers, “What about Wen?”

Alan’s hands find his pockets, “I needed a distraction. He’d already broken up with me so,” he shrugs his shoulders.

Gaipa says in one breath, “She told me I should go for a bank teller because I seemed to like old men.”

Alan chokes on thin air. “What?” He sputters a dawning smile growing at the incredulity of it.

“I know!” Gaipa whines, “I mean not to say you’re old because you’re not! And if you were it wouldn’t really change anything, you’re still attractive,”

Alan’s smile grows, “Uh-Huh.”

Gaipa continues, “I just thought she was implying it that way because, well with Jim being 40 she just assumed I had some complex and—“

Alan hums, “I’m 29, it’s not too far off.”

Gaipa huffs, suddenly breathless, “Who’s to say I don’t like older men?”

Alan looks down at him, his face is smooth and his lips hang like he got distracted halfway between a smirk and a smile, “You just decided that now didn’t you.”

“No,” Gaipa denies, “maybe.” He concedes, “You’re tall,” he says like it explains anything, “I like that.” He submits.

Alan smiles, “And I’m older.”

“That too.”

“Anything else?” Oh he’s teasing him now.

Gaipa has no shame to deny, “Your hair,” it lays against his, “glasses,” in a way that focuses all your attention to, “I like your smile.”

Alan’s slowly getting flustered, Gaipa can see it. “Sounds like I fit your type.” He says before looking away. He looks back quickly, unable to be gone so long.

Gaipa grins, “I think you’re defining it.”

“I sure hope you don’t run into any more tall bank tellers with glasses.” Alan mutters.

“It wouldn’t matter,” Gaipa tells him, “they aren’t you.” He says, simply, “It takes more than appearance to create attraction. I’m sentimental at heart.” Gaipa admits.

“A romantic?” Alan questions.

“You are too.” Gaipa grins.

Alan smiles, “I am.”

Gaipa shows up early Thursday, not too early, but the sun has just begun to set and gaipa knows they’d planned a late dinner, but, well, he just missed him. He brings flowers. He’s never done this before. But Ma used to tell him all about her dates with dad, so, he brings flowers.

The hallway is empty, the door looms before him, the flowers scent his face—strong buds, they’re fresh—and he tries hard not to lose grip of the plastic between his palms; they’re sweaty. He breathes, once, twice, debates taking another before he impulsively pushes forward, delivering a resolute knock against the door. It sounds as confident as he’s beginning to feel.

The door pulls back quickly, almost like someone was waiting there. Alan. Gaipa’s chest softens from that constricted bunch at the sight of him; his smile, a gentle pull that’s half a grin half something polite, his lightly gasping breath like he rushed here, his sparkling eyes like he can’t quite believe what he’s seeing, that smile. Gaipa can’t quite help but stare.

“Hello.” Alan breathes.

Gaipa smiles, “Hello.”

“You’re early.” Alan says, letting him in the door, eyes lingering on the yellow bouquet.

“Reminds me of Tuesday.” Gaipa says, leaving his shoes at the door, “I hope you don’t mind Tansy’s, I didn’t know what you’d like but I thought they were pretty so,” he turns around and stops, stuck. Alan’s staring at him, a gentle something stuck on his face like he’s endeared. Gaipa wonders if Alan is endeared to him, he knows he’s dear to him .  His heart beats quick.

“I like yellow.” Alan says, not once speaking to the flowers.

Gaipa nods, a slow grin starting to grow, “I think I’m starting to see that.”

Alan blinks, “Ah,” he turns to look away, suddenly caught flustered and Gaipa can’t help but silently giggle as Alan makes an excuse. To check on dinner, he’d said. As if dinner wasn’t already set on the table.

The presentation of it is beautiful though, Gaipa has to admire. That table is set up nothing like the breakfast times he’d seen. There’s candles and good napkins. Gaipa wonders if he did all this just for him. Did Wen get this treatment too? He almost has half the mind to be jealous but—he hears Alan trip over himself in the kitchen only coming out with a freshly washed vase—something tells Gaipa this is special.

“Here I’ll put them in some water,” Alan says, reaching out for the flowers. Gaipa, rushing to hand them over to be polite, nearly loses grip of them but he catches them, he also catches Alan’s arm and the vase in his other hand. Gaipa would be embarrassed but, Alan doesn’t seem to mind the compromising position. He’s smiling.

“How graceful.” He says. Gaipa wants to wipe that smile off his face.

“Don’t start or I’ll show you graceful, I’m still holding the vase you know.”

Alan backs down, but that smile remains. The tansies are spared, to live unwilted another day. They make for a nice center piece on the table, next to dinner.

It’s delicious. Gaipa thought Alan was a great cook with breakfast but he’s amazing with dinner foods too. Honestly it’s marriage material just for that. The thought leaves him choking on his water.

“Hey hey,” Alan coos, “slow down there, it’s not going anywhere.”

Gaipa wipes the tears from his eyes, “What if I was just really thirsty hm?” Alan rolls his eyes, “it’s good water.”

“I have wine too.” Gaipa nearly chokes again. The look on Alan’s face seems to know exactly what he’s asking. He remembers Alan’s idea of slow and, well, the water does taste delicious.

“Next time, Friday.” Gaipa says.

Alan, whilst being rejected, looks happier than ever. “Friday.” He nods. “Mm!”

Dinner really is delicious but Gaipa almost prefers doing the dishes. Alan’s tall, and his hip bumps his every so often. Gaipa washes, his hands fit inside the cups better, and Alan dries, he knows where the dishes go. It’s not what Gaipa imagined quite exactly but, it feels real, he’s happy. Alan is tall and their hips bump, of course he’s happy.

Alan grabs the plate Gaipa’s just rinsed off, but he leans into his space when going for it, arm wrapped around his back as his chest brushes his shoulder. Gaipa startles, looking up and becoming eye length with Alan’s mouth. Alan looks down, not apologetic at all despite the apology he gives. He stretches back to his space, drying off the plate before leaning up to put it in the cabinet above Gaipa’s head.

Gaipa’s only half certain it doesn’t belong there. He could’ve sworn Alan had put a mug on that shelf but, yknow? Who knows! Alan smells good this close. Yeah, that’s definitely where the plates go.

The dish washing shenanigans don’t last long, there weren’t that many dishes to wash anyway, but Gaipa misses them already. It’s nice, being in Alan’s space, seeing him, scenting him. At one point he could hear the gentle beat of his heart and Gaipa smiled at the fact their rhythms matched; like a flutter.

It was nice to know he was wanted. Just as much as Gaipa wanted Alan, he was wanted right back; reciprocity. He’d never had that before, could only hope, could never imagine. It’s nice.

What isn’t nice is—Gaipa shakes the hair out of his face for what feels like the 100th time. He never got it cut back then and ever since the funeral, well, he hasn’t had the time nor motivation. He notices Alan’s stare though, and something in his chest seizes like a bad memory. But something warmer chases it away.

Alan’s hand lightly carries the stray piece to his ear, following it behind to the cuff. Gaipa’s brows follow the shape of his eye as he looks up at him—at Alan’s curiously intense expression.

“I could help you tie it up if you’d like.” He says.

Some part of Gaipa wants to decline, not to be contrary but because he wants to have that feeling of Alan’s hand on his face again and again. Something to that thought must show on his face because a small smile finds its way to Alan’s face, tugging at his lips like he can’t help it.

“Sorry,” he says, like Gaipa was right, “the voice in my head just says you looked really cute.” He really couldn’t help it. Huh.

“That’s alright, I like hearing the voice when it sounds like you.” The air shifts. Alan’s smile grows distracted or maybe focused, his eyes are so intense Gaipa can’t really look away to tell. They vibrate with it, the intensity, they also flick across his face like he’s mapping him, close and drawing closer. Gaipa can feel his breathe tickle his nose and then, he’s being kissed.

He didn’t predict this. He maybe should’ve but call him inexperienced and move on with it, he’s being kissed right now. Alan is kissing him. It’s different from last time, last time they were lazy and sad but this, this is anything but that. So aware like this Gaipa feels the full force of his immaturity. He doesn’t know what to do with his hands or lips but he lets his body fall into Alan like he could bury himself right there in his chest and that seems to be the right response because Alan’s hand moves to cup his waist and he is holding him. Gaipa never knew being kissed could feel this good.

Their lips part but even when finding distance they seem drawn to each other. Alan pecks him once, twice, “Would you like to dance?” He asks as he draws back, only a little reluctant.

Alan could’ve asked Gaipa anything and he’d say yes, as long as he gives him another kiss—Gaipa steals it for himself. “I’d love to.” He breathes against his mouth, and really, he would.

He does, because if Gaipa thought Alan was a good dancer alone then he really underestimated everything about Alan and dancing. He’s close, like this, his hand is in his and the other holds his waist. Gaipa’s never had his waist held before he met Alan, he’s starting to think it’s his new favorite thing; second to being kissed. Like this, Gaipa is close to Alan’s mouth. He could ask for another, but Alan’s smile is so pretty, he wouldn’t want to ruin it.

Like this, so close, every movement Alan makes, Gaipa can feel; it moves him too. His hips and chest and feet as he; step, step, turn, back, again. It’s inebriating. It’s a good thing Gaipa’s not drunk, he’d fall for sure, more than he already has; perhaps all the way. Screw it, Gaipa’s never been more infatuated with a man in his life, he wants all that that means. So he dances, with Alan, and he gets swept up in the feeling of it all as Alan does all the thinking and foot work, it’s beyond nice. It’s exhilarating.

The jazz of that old radio that Gaipa is so familiar with plays song by song and gaipa wonders just how much stamina Alan could possibly have when they reach the 3rd. “Alright,” he declares it, call draw, “I’m out.” He taps Alan’s breast, he meant to tap his shoulder but he’s not complaining; it’s sturdier than he expected. He moves his hand away before Alan suspects anything more than innocent but he’s smiling at him and gaipa wonders if he knows or if that’s just a smile he has on every time he looks at Gaipa. Both are tummy funny feelings; Gaipa likes them.

Gaipa finds the couch, falling back into it something he hadn’t seen Alan fo before, pinnacle of control that he is. He’s just getting comfortable when, “You’ll last longer next time.” Alan says. Gaipa is no longer tired.

“Now you’re just doing it on purpose.” Gaipa grumbles, picking at a lint on the top of the couch back. Alan sits right there, in his line of sight, in the curve of his arm where he’s picking.

“Hm,” says Alan, hand coming up to Gaipa’s face. He’s picking, “Eyelash.” He calls. Gaipa can’t look away to tell if he’s being honest, he doesn’t care even if he’s lying. Alan moves away, getting comfortable on the couch. Gaipa watches. He wants that hand back.

Alan’s head rests on the same spot Gaipa was picking at. Now, in perfect distance, Gaipa picks at Alan’s hair; picking up strands, twirling between thumb and forefinger, before dropping. He grabs another.

It’s quiet, gentle as they reclaim their energy.

“You can stay the night if you’d like.”

Gaipa suddenly feels energetic.

“Don’t you have work in the morning?” He asks, gently going back to his picking. His scalp is soft beneath the strands Gaipa plays with.

“If we can’t stand mornings with each other this may not work.” Alan’s head turns, eyes looking up at him behind his glasses. It’s the first time Gaipa’s ever seen Alan look up at him, he could get used to it.

Gaipa nods, “I think we fit more than you think.” He brushes those bangs, small strands at the top, catching on some at the bottom.

Alan’s mouth tilts, “Is that so?”

“I’m joining you on your jog.” Gaipa tells him.

Alan blinks, then, “Alright,” he smiles, “I look forward to it.” Gaipa hums, happy. “So,” Alan starts again after a brief pause, “Want the first shower?” Gaipa’s hand stops.

The shower is nice, pressure better than his Ma’s and Gaipa is just finishing up his hair as he thinks the same thing he’s been thinking since he accepted Alan’s offer. How the hell does everything out of that man’s mouth sound like an innuendo?

He’s supposed to be the uptight salary man, a numbers guy, right? How can he sound so politely, lewd . Gaipa doesn’t have a problem with it he’s just perplexed. It shouldn’t be as attractive as it is, Alan’s gentle tug and pull, trying to gage Gaipa’s comfort zone. It’s sweet is what it is. He’s observant too, anything Gaipa responds to Alan makes quick work of setting comfortable into their conversations and anything hesitant, well, Gaipa hasn’t really rejected any advance Alan’s made but he also hasn’t tugged on him either.

Maybe that’s what Alan’s waiting for. Or maybe he’s not waiting at all. Maybe he’s just trying to feel Gaipa out in a way that doesn’t make him uncomfortable. But, if he is doing it on purpose, does that make the advances a testament to Alan’s interest? Is he really interested in Gaipa, sexually?

It’s almost odd, Gaipa’s used to being viewed as a kid since he grew up with everyone he knows, always the youngest, but this is, flattering. Gaipa likes it, he likes it a lot, the feeling of being desired. It makes him want to respond, reciprocate. But, that requires confidence and Gaipa doesn’t think he’s there yet.

He twists the faucet off, steam leaving his face red. He changes into the soft pajamas Alan leaves out, an honest to god double set, they’re satin too, and Gaipa honestly doesn’t know how he can get any better this is the cutest thing he’s ever seen. The tag is still on them, proof that Alan bought them new, just for him. The size is smaller too and, dear god Alan knows Gaipa’s exact pajama size. That could only be the consequence of Ma but how the hell did that come up in conversation?

He nearly bursts out laughing in the bathroom all by himself. It’s nice, knowing Ma is everywhere even in her death. She’s always looking out for him. And Alan, Alan is Ma’s greatest blessing. He’s probably what she always dreamed Gaipa could have. Gaipa thinks he feels the same. He grabs a hand towel off the rack, throwing it over his head as he leaves the bathroom.

He’s dried his hair as much as he can with the towel but it can only go so far. Luckily he’s not dripping on Alan’s nice tile, especially not when Alan is watching him.

“Want some help?” Alan asks when Gaipa enters the living room. Gaipa looks up to see what looks like a set that must’ve taken the entirety of his shower to arrange. The cushions are placed for comfort with blankets and the coffee table has a blow dryer plugged into the extender with the standing lamp. There’s frozen grapes and water and Gaipa walks over.

“You look so excited to offer, I’d hate to turn you down.” His heart pounds with his grin. Alan positively brightens. His smile is so wide his glasses rise. Gaipa feels a strong urge to kiss right now, but instead, he sits between Alan’s legs and stiffens his back to keep himself from falling into his warmth.

Freshly blow dried, the hair is soft. It’s also long despite the frequent notions Gaipa’s had to cut it; there is no urge. Alan doesn’t seem to mind either. He hasn’t once stopped the running of his fingers through it. Across his bangs tickling his forehead he brushes it all behind his ears, watches the strands fall loose, and smiles as if he’s compelled to do it all again.

His hands stretch all the way to the back of Gaipa’s head, large hands, that pull at the base of his neck and massage gently into the dip of his skull. It’s nice. It does nothing against Gaipa’s resistance to fall into Alan though and it’s getting increasingly difficult. Right at that precipice, he falls. Alan catches him, gently, with care, with a smile.

Gaipa can see under his glasses from here, can see his chin and long neck, his face as it turns down towards him. Alan continues to play with his hair, even from this angle. He massages Gaipa’s temples, tickles his forehead with light padded brushes of soft thumb, and drags it all back behind his ear.

It’s that dip between jaw and flesh that Alan targets now. Gaipa has never felt this way before, been touched this way before. It’s intimate and gentle. It’s like Ma gathering him into her armpit and Ma touching his head as he lays on her lap. It’s comfort he’s not known with anyone before and it makes him greedy. How could Wen have given this all up? Not even Jim has made Gaipa feel this way. He didn’t understand.

“What are you thinking about?” Alan’s voice is deep through his head, vibrating his body with its fervor. Gaipa could sleep like this.

“You.” He says. “What are you thinking about?”

Alan hums, “You as well.”

Gaipa hums back. He breathes, “I also thought of Jim and Wen.”

Alan goes a little stiff, but that hand never stops. The drag feels nice going across his skin. “About what?”

“They’re fools.” Gaipa says simply, Alan very quickly loses the stiffness in his body, instead shaking Gaipa with the rhythm of his laugh. “No you didn’t let me finish!” Gaipa smiles, trying not to succumb before he’s done, “I’m serious! How could they think to give this up? Wen had the entire world in his hands,” Gaipa tells Alan, soft fingers rising to cup his face. It’s the first time, it’s as smooth as he thought. “You cared for him so deeply, I would know I watched it every day. What could Jim do that you couldn’t?” Alan sobers, looking attentively upon him. “I’m not asking to find out, I’m being incredulous because I already know. There is nothing you did or did not do.” Gaipa whispers deep between the space between them. He watches Alan’s face change, attentive to emotional. “You did nothing wrong. But I am so glad he left you.”

Alan stares, a moment, then he smiles. That tell-tale wide grin that says he’s truly, genuinely, happy. “I’m glad too, that Jim didn’t see you the way I do.”

Gaipa feels that heavy tug, that heavy urge. “I want to kiss you.”

Alan smiles. “I want to kiss you too.”

So He does. Gaipa uses the hands on Alan’s face to bring him down, gently lifting his own neck to meet him; it’s soft. It’s gentle, a push and pull. It’s slick, tongue meets tongue; not hot, just exploratory. It’s nice, it’s beyond. Gaipa falls, deep, into his feelings. He pools into Alan’s lap, hand traveling into his hair, pulling him down, down, down . Alan follows, like moth to flame.

He pulls Gaipa up, up, up ; steadies his back and body with his chest. Gaipa turns around, unable to part, unable to be away. Gaipa turns in Alan’s arms and wraps his own around Alan’s neck. He sinks into his lap and presses his chest to chest; it’s sturdy, just as he expected. And they kiss, they kiss, and kiss, and soft slicked tongues meet to kiss more. It’s heaven, it’s beyond. It’s love. Gaipa is in love, so, so, in love with this guy, this guy with the glasses.

Alan holds him, Gaipa, by the waist. He holds behind his ear, holds his neck and keeps his head from floating away. Alan pulls away only to plant kisses across his face. “I’m afraid your cheeks would get jealous.” He says, then kisses his eyes, “these too.” He explains. Gaipa breathes, let’s his forehead fall into Alan’s neck as Alan kisses anywhere he can reach; his neck, his ear, his head.

Gaipa feels so warm in his hold, he could fall asleep like this. “Go ahead.” Alan tells him, like he can read minds. Gaipa wouldn’t mind if he did, he’d gladly show it all to Alan. “I feel the same.” Alan whispers. And Gaipa’s last thought is that Alan must be magic.

In the morning he’ll sober and Alan will tell him he talks out loud when he gets beyond relaxed.  Gaipa will try to make them breakfast, just to be polite and not in anyway to encourage Alan to help him. They’ll eat at that full table and do the dishes, bumping hips. Then they’ll get ready for their jog. They’ll finish right as the sun rises and they’ll part for work.

They’ll meet up only a day later, Gaipa walking straight into Alan’s office bringing beef from the shop. “It’s new, you have to try it.” He’ll say, an excuse.

Alan will smile and nod, “I must.” He’ll need the excuse too.

It won’t take long for them to meet again after they part, Friday comes quick. Alan will open the door before Gaipa even gets there. He’ll have flowers for Gaipa this time, Tansies, Gaipa will have a single flower, one he picked from Ma’s garden that he doesn’t know the name of; it’s pink.

They’ll cook dinner together this time, dance and do the dishes. They’ll kiss with suds on their hands, shove it under each others shirts. They’ll get distracted. Alan will slow them down, unsure of the boundary line. He’ll offer that bridge, wine. Gaipa will blink, stare; and then, he’ll kiss him. “I’d love some.”

They’ll go to bed together that night, late and later til they’ve missed their morning jog. Neither mind, they’ll make a joke about exercise and love and turn over to kiss some more. The two will be content with it.

They’ll meet every Friday, and Tuesdays and sometimes Gaipa will invite Alan over on the weekends and he’ll stay over. A month or two will pass just like that. And then, Wen finds out.

That, is how the story continues.

There’s a mall a drive away from the market. Gaipa’s never been but Alan picks him up after work and the moment Gaipa sees it all, he feels like a child on Christmas. Alan opens the car door on Gaipa’s side, a real gentlemen.

“You’re too much.” Gaipa mumbles through the flush quickly growing on his face. Alan just smiles, that face of his that shows how simply happy he is. It makes Gaipa reach for his hand, he knows he’ll receive it.

It’s warm, it’s hot outside for summer’s approach and that hand is as warm as the wind that blows through. Alan smells like sunscreen as Gaipa side steps into his arm, feeling that hand cross due to the position. Alan doesn’t mind, he spins him like they’re dancing, and makes him comfortable against his opposite side in order to keep hold of his hand. Gaipa is in love.

“Such a gentlemen.” He sighs.

Alan smiles wide, teeth shining, “You make it of me.” He accuses.

Gaipa kisses him, there’s really nothing else he can do but that. He can taste Alan’s smile through it, even as his lips come to meet him, he’s still smiling. Gaipa pulls away, “Come on, I want to see the mall!”

Alan shows it to him. There’s shops all over, inside with conditioned air, people wandering, shopping. It’s like the market but it feels like Alan’s world. Gaipa doesn’t say it but he sees it in the way Alan points out stores he likes, places he buys his ties, the store he bought the pjs Gaipa uses anytime he comes over. It’s wonderful, new, exciting; there’s a store that sells clocks and Gaipa is stunned. Ma would love it.

“I’m surprised you’ve never been,” Alan says as they’re looking through funny socks, “I could’ve sworn I saw Mrs. Hong wearing a blazer from the store we just went through.”

Gaipa puts back a pair with cats on it, “I’m sure she had at one point, Ma was an explorer, but, I would’ve been busy. Even when I lived in the city for school, I never had time to go places like this.”

Alan watches him, “Really?” He looks like he wants to change that. Gaipa nods, a bit excited at that look. Alan smiles, “Then that means you haven’t tried the smoothies here.”

“Smoothies?” Gaipa thinks this might be their best date yet.

He’s only become sure of that when he takes his first sip. It’s Alan’s, but Gaipa wants to try them both. It’s good, sweet, yummy. Above anything it’s refreshing and Gaipa is hooked. “I want four.”

“You won’t be able to finish four.” Alan says confidently, so sure in himself.

“I want four.” Gaipa says back, more stubborn than Alan has any idea of.

Alan looks at him, gaging how serious he is, before nodding, “Finish that one and then I’ll buy you another. We can always come back.”

Gaipa smiles, “Promise?”

Alan smiles back, stealing a smoothie flavored lip, “You know I do.”

Gaipa holds him to kiss him a bit longer before pushing him away, as if it never happened. “Good.” And then he walks off to another store.

Alan shakes his head, biting that smile that tastes like Gaipa; he follows without a second thought.

The day at the mall really couldn’t get any better, Gaipa knew it couldn’t. So there was no surprise that they’d run into him. Gaipa’s only glad it was only him.

“Wen.” Alan sees him. Gaipa sighs.

“Alan.” Wen blinks.

“Wen.” Gaipa greets, nods, then grabs Alan’s hand and turns straight around. He is not doing this a second time.

We’re friends.

Gaipa would’ve gotten away with it, with pulling Alan away, maybe getting another smoothie and checking out the top part of the mall but Wen’s eyes are quick. “You two.” He starts, then stops, as if he’s figured something out. Gaipa hadn’t realized there was anything to figure out. Surely he knew already. “You’re,,,” it’s like he can’t get the words out of his mouth.

Gaipa snaps, “Your mouth will catch flies like that.” It’s rude and he instantly feels that flash of heat through his body that tells him he’s done something bad but, Alan’s grip tightens. Gaipa looks up at him. He’s glaring at Wen.

Gaipa feels a little better about being rude.

“Alan,” Wen looks like he’s stuck between disbelief and some other emotion.

“Don’t ruin my date.” Alan bites, fast and definite. Gaipa feels that heat come back, but for a different reason entirely. “If you want to talk to me you have my business phone.” And then Alan is the one pulling them away.

Gaipa looks back to see Wen’s expression, feeling just as surprised as he looks, but when he turns back to look at Alan he feels that flutter. He’s got that look from Christmas night, like he might punch Wen if he shows up in front of his face again. Gaipa wonders how much of that is directed simply at Wen and how much is about Gaipa’s reaction to Wen.

Alan has this thing that Gaipa’s noticed, whatever Gaipa’s upset about, Alan’s upset about it even more. Gaipa wonders, if maybe this, is like that.

Alan turns around, holding Gaipa’s hand like he might disappear. “Did you want another smoothie?”

“I want to go home.”

Alan blinks, “Oh.”

Gaipa gulps, “With you.”

Alan’s eyes widen, “You,” he shakes his head, a smile taking his face, “that’s what you got from that.”

Gaipa’s own smile grows, “That,” he grabs Alan’s collar, “is exactly what I got from that.” He pulls him close, reveling in the way Alan’s eyes race across his face. His heart beats fast beneath his hand.

“There’s more you know.” Alan’s eyes grow bold, as he comes closer.

Gaipa’s heart races. “More what.”

Alan kisses him, quick and short, “Come home with me and find out.”

“Oh~” Gaipa’s grin hurts his cheeks, “that’s ticklish.” He nods, once, twice, neck straining from looking up but unable to look away, “Okay.” He says. “Take me home.”

Wen calls Alan’s business number a day later. Alan tells Gaipa about it. “I didn’t pick up.”

“Didn’t you tell him to call it though?”

“I never said I would pick up,” Alan puts the towel back on the rack. Gaipa hums, sitting back against the toilet seat from where he watches Alan finish shaving. “Do you want me to?”

“Want you to what?” Gaipa asks.

“Answer his call.”

“That would be agreeing to speak with him.”

Alan nods, “it would be, he’ll probably call me out to talk in person. We both hate phone calls.”

Gaipa rolls his eyes, “You love phone calls.”

Alan smiles, “I do.”

Gaipa nods, “If you didn’t you wouldn’t call me on every lunch break you own.”

“Or right before you’re about to sleep.” Alan adds.

“Or buzz me twice when I’m showering.”

“If you hated it you wouldn’t pick up while you’re showering.”

“If you call me that means you need me, of course I pick up.”

Alan smiles, “Mm.”

“So?” Gaipa looks back, “are you going to meet up with him?”

“I don’t want to, and if you don’t want me to I won’t.”

“But I do want you to.” Gaipa says.

Alan looks at him, “I know you do.”

“We’re allowed to be dating.” Gaipa defends.

“I know.” Alan agrees.

“Then it’s settled. You’ll see him tomorrow evening at the mall, just don’t take him to the smoothie shop.”

Alan smiles. He grabs Gaipa’s head and pulls him to his chest, sniffing a kiss into his hair before messing it up loving the giggles he draws from Gaipa. “I won’t.” Alan promises.

Gaipa drags him down and kisses him, Gaipa’s satisfied.

“I saw you two at the food truck but I hadn’t thought much of it.” Wen’s foot bounces under the table. “I’d actually believed you you know, for a moment, but you’ve never taken a client outside of the bank before.” Wen shakes his head, incredulous, “I should’ve known.” He says.

Alan stares, “And done what?”

Wen blinks, “What?”

“What would you have done had you known?” Alan reiterates, “Is there something wrong with it being Gaipa?” His brow furrows, “You didn’t want me, am I not allowed to be wanted?”

Wen sighs, looks away like he can’t bare to look at Alan, then he says, “You’re misinterpreting me.”

Alan shrugs. “Then communicate better. You were always shit at that.”

“Jesus,” Wen curses, “you don’t have to get so upset with me it’s been barely 10 minutes.” He laughs, still not looking Alan in the eye.

Alan stares at his face, not once turning, “I apologize but you piss me off.” He says, flatly.

Wen stares, something dead, then a nod. “Alright. I’ll say it. He’s too young for your control.”

Alan’s brow furrows, “What?”

“Gaipa is only barely 20,” Wen stresses, “this is his first relationship and you’re not the best at subtle.” He tells Alan, “You’re going to break him.”

“Like how I broke you?” Alan asks. The charged air breaks just like that.

Wen takes a breath, “It wasn’t like that. I just, fell out.”

“I suffocated you.”

“Maybe,” Wen concedes, “or maybe it was the opposite.”

Alan follows, “I gave you too much freedom.”

Wen nods, “And then you suffocated me.” He picks his elbows up, leaning over like he’s telling him something important, “Don’t neglect Gaipa he’s different,” Wen says, sounding sincere. “he’s needy.” Alan snaps.

“Don’t talk about him like that.” Alan says immediately.

“He is.” Wen leans back, defensively shrugging his shoulders, “He’s clingy. Ask Jim.”

Alan’s nose flares, “Why would I ask him about someone he barely knows?”

“Excuse me?” Wen blinks quickly, “He’s been friends with Gaipa longer than you’ve known him—“

“And he’s wasted all that time,” Alan tells him, “leading him on.” Alan nods, looking away for a moment, “You two really are perfect for each other.”

Wen growls, “I stayed for you.”

Alan looks at him, “You stayed for yourself.” Alan delivers, almost sweetly, “You needed a place to stay until you found a new boyfriend and you couldn’t handle the guilt that you didn’t love me anymore.” Alan smiles, “You knew it’d hurt me so, you tried to compromise knowing it’d hurt me more but hoping it’d work out for you. You didn’t think ahead.”

“This isn’t about us.” Wen’s stare burns.

“Isn’t it?”

“It’s about Gaipa.” Wen says.

“Be honest.” Alan says. “Did Jim send you?” He asks.

Wen’s mouth furls, “He didn’t have to.”

“But he said something,” Alan recognizes, “and it made you insecure and now, you’re here.”

“I’m not insecure.” Wen defends like he’s petulant.

“You’re still a child too you know.” Alan observes, “And we had fit so well because we were insecure. But I got a job. You didn’t. You’re insecurity is what drove you away from me Wen. Don’t lie to me ever again.” Alan glares, “And don’t talk about Gaipa like you know him.” He stands, ignoring the scrape of the chair, and leaves. There’s nothing to pay for, he didn’t get any coffee. Alan let Wen choose where they held this conversation, knowing he’d never choose Gaipa’s smoothie shop. But at the very least, Wen should remember Alan hates coffee.

Coming home is the easiest thing Alan’s ever had to do. The door opens beneath his palm and something warm and delicious wafts through the air. Tea. Gaipa’s making tea.

“You’re home!” Gaipa’s peering over around the kitchen entrance. He comes over before Alan finishes closing the door, grabbing at his work blazer and smoothing the nonexistent crease across his chest.

Alan had figured letting the confrontation with Wen be the last appointment of his day after work would leave him feeling satisfied and excited for the weekend but, he just feels tired.

Gaipa grabs Alan’s tie, gently releasing it from his neck. Alan feels the satin brush across his skin as it comes loose, falling into Gaipa’s waiting hands, where he puts it away, neat and efficient, over the back of his chair. Alan smiles at the sight.

Gaipa’s had that spot clocked ever since he first came over and Alan just knew it was something he’d observed over and over; probably fantasized about doing it himself like when Gaipa told him about the dishes. He remembers to always bump his hip at least once, kiss him at least twice, during their dishes routine; all because of that admission Gaipa gave under the moonlight in his bedroom. It’s nice.

“You look frustrated.” Gaipa trails his hand up Alan’s neck, massaging behind his ear, “Want some tea?”

“Tea sounds great.” Alan follows Gaipa’s hand, nearly following him into the kitchen, but Gaipa sits him at that table. His head sinks into his palm. Gaipa come back to join him.

He sets the tea down, gently rubbing Alan’s shoulder as he walks passed to take the chair in front of him. “Tell me about it.” He says.

Alan does, drawing with it a short sigh, “I met with Wen.”

Gaipa hums, “What happened?”

“He told me you’re too young for me.” Alan sees the indignation light in Gaipa’s eyes.

“He’s one to talk, dating Jim.” Gaipa mumbles, Alan knows there’s more to that sentence, probably a couple curses, but they don’t come. His boyfriend is too polite, Alan thinks.

“I think it’s because of Jim.” Alan says.

Gaipa nods. “I think so too. He’s never seen me as an adult.” Gaipa sips from Alan’s cup.

Alan holds out a hand.

Gaipa hands it over, watching the way Alan moves the lip of the cup to match where Gaipa drank from. “This is good,” Alan hums, “what flavor is it. I taste vanilla.”

“Its black tea, the vanilla is my chapstick.”

Alan’s eyes flick up. “Tasty.”

“Wanna try it again?” Gaipa asks, coy as a fish, leaning over his chest on the table.

Alan smiles, “I’ve earned it I think.” He murmurs between a quick press of his lips.

“So have I.” Gaipa agrees, stealing his mouth.

The table isn’t so lonely anymore; not like this. It’s beyond.

Gaipa had assumed that after that one talk Alan had had with Wen, it’d be over. He was a fool. It seems Alan’s business phone is now an open hotline. Gaipa can only imagine how Jim of all people got his number.

He only knows Jim’s been calling Alan because he saw the screen light up and Alan groaned from the next room over. This seemed to be one he was not interested in answering. Gaipa didn’t blame him, he thought it was healthier if he didn’t, for everyone involved. But Jim just kept calling. He never did know when to give up.

Gaipa had thought it’d be fine, Alan could handle it. But after a text on a Monday evening after Gaipa had just gotten home from staying at Alan’s all week, well, the words spoke for themselves.

I’m gonna hit him.

Gaipa immediately grabbed his keys and activated Alan’s location. The mall, this is all thanks to that damn mall.

Jim had come to talk to Alan, that much is clear. How Jim knew he’d be able to find Alan window shopping for ties at the mall as a way to destress after work, Gaipa can only guess is Wen’s fault. He’d come to apologize for Wen and perpetuate his stance; a stupid stance on Gaipa and maturity and things that were none of his damn business. Gaipa knows because he catches the tail end of it when coming up behind Alan outside of the smoothie shop.

Gaipa finds him with touch first, ignoring Jim’s immediate surprise at his presence. Alan flinches at the fingers sliding up his back, cupping his shoulder blade, but he instantly recognizes the motion. Despite it, he doesn’t turn to him. He’s busy, glaring at Jim who’s most likely said something that would offend Gaipa and now Alan is, very strongly, debating hitting him in the middle of the food court.

Gaipa’s open hand goes to Alan’s, slides between his fingers, just to keep his shaking fist under control. Gaipa knows it’s uncouth to be so cuddled up in broad daylight like this, in front of Jim no less, but really, he’s doing him a favor. Jim doesn’t stand a chance against Alan’s pent up emotions.

Gaipa lightly tugs on him, breaking Alan’s glare and grabbing his attention. “Hi honey.” Gaipa smiles.

Alan blinks, a bit dazed then, “Hi,” he breathes. “Hello.” He smiles.

Gaipa’s eyes soften, “Hello.” Gaipa recognizes one thing, Alan looks exhausted. He wants to take that from him, so badly. He turns to Jim.

Jim opens his mouth, most likely to speak but, “What are you doing here?” Gaipa asks first.

“I was…” he trails off, unconfident.

“Just leaving.” Alan warns.

Jim’s face hardens. “I wasn’t. I’m here to talk with you.”

Gaipa smiles, “It looks like you too have talked though?” This is Jim, his childhood friend and crush. Gaipa no longer holds feelings for him like that, but he can’t regard him the way he regards Wen. In the most polite way he can, Gaipa tries to de-escalate the situation. But the moment Jim stares at Gaipa’s hand glued to Alan’s, it’s too late he realizes.

Jim’s face twists ugly. Gaipa’s never seen it twist like that before. It looks disgusted. Gaipa wants to retreat, pull his hand away and apologize but, Alan leans into him. Gaipa would never abandon him like this, not for Jim, not for anyone. His hand slides, from shoulder to waist, holding him.

Alan has seen that face too, Gaipa knows it, he feels the way his body shakes, sees the way those eyes no longer just glare, they follow every mini movement Jim makes. His chest breathes and Alan, stares, calculated, calm up top but Gaipa’s not fooled. He’s about to beat the shit out of him.

“Alan.” Gaipa calls, little less than a command, Alan quickly recognizes. He gives him his full attention. “I want four smoothies.” Gaipa smiles.

Alan blinks, breathes. Gaipa watches Alan recognize the out, the white knight coming to save him from himself. Gaipa accepts the kiss he receives gratefully, feels the way his hand grips his, then watches him walk off into the smoothie store.

“You two really are dating.” Jim says, as if he can’t believe it.

“We are.” Gaipa confirms, calm and a little giddy. “I told Leng last week, he said he called it the moment we had that date at your truck.”

Jim looks lost, confused, unable to process what he’s hearing. “He’s Wen’s ex.”

“He is.”

“You know.”

“I knew even before he told me.”

“How?”

Gaipa blinks, nods then smiles, “You know this is the most you’ve asked about me in, well, ever.”

Jim’s mouth slackens, that recognition dawning on his face hurts just as bad as if he’d denied it. “I’m sorry.” Jim tries but Gaipa doesn’t need that.

“Don’t.” Gaipa smiles, reassuring, “Just leave us alone.”

Jim blinks at the harshness of his words, but the gentleness keeps him from looking offended. “I didn’t mean to, I just,” he sighs. Gaipa waits. He always waited for him. But this time he feels a bit impatient.

He misses Alan, he can’t wait for him to come back with his four smoothies so they can go home together and Gaipa can spend another week at his place. He misses the air of that open window.

Jim shakes his head, looking frustrated. “I’m sorry.” Gaipa realizes it’s with himself.

“You should be.” Gaipa says, as gentle as he can. “I’m not the kid you think I am. I am, in fact, allowed to be in love.”

“I know.” Jim says, too quickly.

“Do you?” Gaipa asks, genuinely. “Do you really?”

Jim gulps. “I don’t.” His voice breaks. “I’m sorry, I just always thought, I’d always viewed you like this and him—he’s—“

“What about Alan?” Gaipa asks thinly. His patience is draining.

“He’s violent.”

“He’s passionate.”

“He’s controlling.”

“He’s loyal and fearful.”

“He’s insecure.”

“He is.” Gaipa nods, “We done here?”

“That’s it? You’re okay with all of that?”

“With his insecurities that flare every time I go out and he doesn’t know who I’m with? When my wifi goes out and he can’t find my location?” Gaipa smiles, “Yeah, I am.”

“How? How can you—“

“Because he calls me, that’s it. He just calls and asks, where are you? I’m worried. Who are you with? Can you tell me about them when you get home?” Gaipa tries to imitate his voice but fails, he giggles at it, “It reminds me of Ma honestly.” Jim looks lost. “It’s how he loves, his worries and his insecurities. He never tells me I can’t go anywhere, I can’t hang out with someone, I can’t be this or that, he just wants to know. He wants to be involved in my life. Isn’t that what a boyfriend is for?” Gaipa thinks to all the times he wished Jim had asked about him, shown an interest in being involved in his life, in his mind. He shakes his head, “You know I’ve always wanted a relationship,” Gaipa says, “and he’s perfect at it. I like him, so yeah, I’m satisfied.” He smiles, “And if anything did happen between us that I didn’t like, I wouldn’t come to you.”

That, offends Jim. Gaipa watches his face fall. The man the entire market goes to for advice or comfort has just been rejected. “Why?” He asks like he doesn’t know.

“You’re unreliable. And I don’t like you that much anymore. So I’d appreciate it if you let us drift apart. I like my life how it is now, without you, with him.” Gaipa smiles, “Its nice.”

Jim nods, something understanding, and then he concedes. “Alright. You look happy Gaipa, that’s all I wanted.” Gaipa let’s himself believe it might be true in the time it takes Jim to walk away, but he’s honestly forgotten all about it by the time Alan’s hands slip around his waist.

“Where are my smoothies?” Gaipa asks, sinking into Alan’s chest and nuzzling up at the chin leaning on his head.

“On the table behind us.”

“All four?” Gaipa questions.

“Did you mean it?” Alan asks instead, “what you said about my insecurities and my,” he hesitates, “the way I love you.”

“Do I get bothered when you blow up my phone in the middle of the day because my battery ran out? No, not really, I like seeing your messages and missed calls once I charge it back up.”

“I’m glad you smile at my worries.” Alan grumbles.

“I do.” Gaipa smiles. “Do I mind that you only bought me two smoothies instead of four? Yes. That I mind.”

“One of those are mine.” Alan kisses his cheek.

Gaipa wants to turn around to stick his tongue at him, but this is nice. “That means you only bought me one smoothie.” Gaipa sighs, he leans back all of his weight, giggling as Alan slightly stumbles before holding him. Strong man, he muses.

“It’s bad for you to drink too much.” Alan informs.

“Smoothies are healthy,” Gaipa’s brow furrows, “don’t lie to me.”

Alan shakes his head, he’s also smiling, Gaipa feels it in his neck. “Alright,” he promises with a short kiss to his ear. Gaipa cringes, it’s loud. “I won’t.” Alan noses right by his hair line, close to where he kissed, he whispers, “I love you.”

Gaipa’s cheeks hurt. He hums, “Is that so?”

Alan smiles back, “Very much so.”

It’s beyond it all, this, them; love. Gaipa likes it, likes it beyond. “It’s a good thing I found you before you hit him,” Gaipa sighs happily, “I’d hate to lose you to county jail.”

Alan groans, leaning his weight onto Gaipa instead, “I still want to hit him.” Gaipa stumbles but manages to catch himself on Alan’s bicep.

“Kiss me instead.” He does. Its a short thing in the middle of the mall but they continue at home.

Home, Gaipa thinks, looking at walls he’s seen from afar for days. Picture frames missing pictures, cushions and pillows turned upside down to change their meaning. It’s Alan’s apartment and it feels nice, familiar, but, gaipa wonders if it’s home. Does it matter? When he has Alan’s arms around him like this it doesn’t.

But when Alan is at work and Gaipa comes by, it feels like he’s visiting a dream. It’s a thought for another day, this day, he’s busy. He shuts the bedroom door and not a single thought follows him inside. He doesn’t have to think here, just feel— beyond .

He’s pressing feather dust nosed kisses into Alan’s hair, across his forehead, brushing down his nose and finding his lips in the dark. “I love you.” He mouths into his skin and feels Alan’s smile grow.

“Is that so?” Alan asks, loud in the dark.

“Very much.” Gaipa answers, confident and noisy in Alan’s ear.

Alan cringes immediately, “Ooooi!” He giggles. It’s the first time Gaipa’s ever heard him giggle.

“Oi?” Gaipa blinks, a smile steals his face as he grabs Alan’s bicep, turning him over to see that smiling face. “Was that a giggle?”

“No.” He says but his teeth are lying.

“Ooooi!” Gaipa copies him. The laugh stretches his face so wide that he can’t help but hide his nose in Alan’s chest; more of a fall into him then anything graceful. Gaipa feels the wind he knocks out of Alan, feels his warm bare skin and smells the sweat on his body. God, “I love you.” Gaipa breathes.

Alan’s heart beats, slowly gaining momentum, beneath Gaipa’s cheek. “Mm.” Alan agrees, something shy in his voice.

“Mm?” Gaipa smiles, nose nuzzling beneath Alan’s chin; he smells good here too.

“Yeah,” Alan sighs, something satisfied, “I love you too, so much.” His hand is in Gaipa’s hair, rubbing behind his ear and traveling down his naked back. It feels gentle, safe beneath Alan’s heavy hand.

It’s dark beside the moonlight; the moon only reaches so far here, but it always favors Alan’s face. It touches him so gently. Gaipa prefers it this way, to see him bathed in Gaipa’s favorite color. It’s times like these, supple, soft, and tired, that Gaipa wonders how someone so gentle can have the propensity for such violence. “You must be really scared.” Gaipa muses.

Alan doesn’t miss a beat, despite his closed eyes and gentle breathing he turns to Gaipa’s bare chest, burying himself by a nipple. That’s where he tells his truth, “Terrified.” He breathes, “I can’t lose you too.” He whispers.

Gaipa pets him, soothing the knot in his throat one stroke at a time, “You won’t,” he tells him, “you have me.” This, Gaipa is sure.

“Can I trust that?” Alan asks.

“You can trust me.” There is no hesitation. Hesitation means he has to think. Gaipa doesn’t have to think with Alan, he’s not a thinker. He just feels, and that’s how he knows. “You can trust my heart Alan.” He knows. Alan does too. That’s why he kisses him. And Gaipa kisses him back.

Let him be kissed who is tender and save him be who is scared. Gaipa thinks of Ma and what she’d say at the sight of Alan, his love, and his style in which he is feared. Gaipa does not fear Alan’s love, he only fears breaking it. But even that, is not a doubt in mind. For that would need intent and Gaipa, has never intended to love anyone more than he has Alan.

That night the two cradle in the breast of moonlight, and it is nice.

“I want to move out of the apartment.” Alan declares suddenly.

“Hm,” Gaipa hums, “memories sake?” He asks, putting the paper down on the table. It’s Alan’s crossword. It’s fun.

“Yeah,” Alan sits across from him, finishing his breakfast, “I want to make new ones, not replace old ones.”

Gaipa smiles, “I agree,” he says, “I’ve been thinking of selling Ma’s home.”

Alan blinks, “Really?” He pulls his fork from his mouth, “But that’s family.”

“It is,” Gaipa nods, “but it’s also been empty way before Ma died.” He smiles, a bit ruely “I also think I’m quitting the chicken business.” Gaipa says with a smile that feels like finality.

“Is that so?” Alan smiles back, “You don’t have to, you know.” He mentions, like a passing alleviation in case Gaipa would like to take it back, he wouldn’t judge him. Alan has never judged him. “We could find some place around here.” Alan says, turning back to his plate.

Gaipa bites his grinning lip, “We?”

Alan’s fork halts, “Oh,” he looks up then down, like he’s said something wrong, “well I just assumed.” He shakes his head, downcast, “No I’m getting ahead of myself, I’m sorry.”

“No,” Gaipa rushes, “I assumed too.” He smiles, “I was hoping, I just wanted it confirmed.” Gaipa nods, “We’re moving in together.”

Alan looks up, lip twitching like he can’t help it, “If you’ll have me.” He really can’t.

Gaipa grins, “If you’ll have me.”

Alan smiles, “I’d love nothing more.”

Gaipa smiles back, “I want to go back to school.”

And with an honest promise, Alan replies, “I’ll support you no matter your decision.” It is truly, beyond.