The thunder in Bangkok during monsoon season was no joke. Sehun knew that, yet the banging rumbles still surprised him every time they seemed to echo the ache in his heart off the walls of his second floor veranda.

It had been almost a month since that fateful phone call with Tao, and even longer since Sehun had actually seen his lover face-to-face. The two had never really discussed it—mostly because Tao still refused to talk to Sehun and Sehun had since stopped trying—but they were broken up and Sehun once again found himself nursing a broken heart more crippling than the alcohol he used to mask the pain. He’d started going clubbing again, too. At first it had been a minor attempt to regain the feelings of freedom he’d so relied on when he first came to Bangkok. (Sehun would have moved somewhere else if he’d been financially capable, but he actually liked his job in Thailand and decided that if he was going to start being an adult and stop running away from his problems, his relationship with Tao was a good place to start.) After the denial stage of grief, though, Sehun kept clubbing because he half hoped he’d run into Tao, and half hoped that if he did, Tao would see what he’d lost by breaking up with Sehun. (Sehun wasn’t yet at that place in his stages of grief to realize that maybe he wasn’t completely blameless in this break-up.)

But no matter where Sehun partied; no matter which tourist traps he visited and re-visited; no matter what time of day or night he ventured out into the city, Tao was nowhere to be found. There were a few instances in which Sehun imagined he maybe saw Tao’s spiked blonde hair or heard the Chinese male’s high-pitched laughter. There were even a few times when Sehun thought that he felt a presence watching him as he dipped into a particular club both used to frequent, or shopped their shared supermarket half-way between Tao’s apartment and Sehun’s own. Every time that happened, Sehun would take a quick glance at his surroundings while trying to decide whether or not he even wanted to see Tao. But he never had to make an actual decision, because Tao was never there and Sehun could only ever assume that their break-up had made him borderline insane.

Today, Sehun was unusually introspective as the rain crashed against his windows and the thunder rattled the panes. (He’d never admit it, but he often found himself uncharacteristically philosophical during inclement weather. Sehun used to tell Kyungsoo that bad weather made him think about bad things, but really Sehun was now beginning to realize that rain like today’s just served to exacerbate the loneliness which was merely asive at other times but became suffocating now.) Aside from being a day for sitting inside and whittling away the day’s hours by a pity party for one, today was also Sehun’s birthday. He was turning 23 and was particularly bitter because he and Tao were supposed to go to the grand opening of a Korean barbecue place tonight—they’d had reservations a month in advance and everything.

Not one to let a good thing go to waste—unless that thing was a loving boyfriend, apparently—Sehun said to himself, “Screw this!” and, when the weather began clearing up as evening approached, decided to go out to dinner anyway. Kyungsoo, who was four years older than Sehun and had been a senior to Sehun’s freshman when the two met in college, used to say that birthdays became less like celebrations and more like normal days the older he became. Sehun spent the entire day alone so he wouldn’t know regardless, but he was starting to think Kyungsoo was right. He hated that some wisdom from his ex-boyfriend followed Sehun all the way to Bangkok, but Sehun was more worried that he would forget his own birthday if he didn’t do something in the way of celebration. So he grabbed an umbrella, threw on some slacks and a button up, styled his hair, and prepared himself for a party. (Best case scenario, Tao didn’t have the same idea as Sehun, the two didn’t meet, and Sehun got a pretty companion to go home with that night. Worst case, Sehun saw Tao, drank alone at the bar all night, and went home drunk to deal with a god-awful hangover the next morning.)

Though the restaurant was new, Sehun didn’t find any obvious indications of promotion, and soon found himself lost. He had lived in Bangkok long enough that becoming lost should have been embarrassing, but Sehun was a child of Seoul and still got lost there too, so he didn’t really care. The address he’d googled earlier told him to find Soi 13, but he’d passed by twice and couldn’t figure out why the streets off Sukhumvit skipped from 7 to 15 and back to 9, without ever showing a sign for 13. He was, in fact, so caught up in his search for his destination, that he missed the sensation of someone’s attention on his back. When Sehun finally realized that someone was watching him, he brushed it off to the usual, did his compulsory search for Tao, and continued in his quest.

He was retracing his steps for the third time, when he felt a brush across his arm and a male voice which said “Beautiful” in strongly accented English. Sehun looked up, hopeful that the guy was attractive enough so that maybe he could start his night early and skip the restaurant all together. Unfortunately, the guy, aside from being at least 20 years older and balding, was also kind of greasy and stronger than he looked. The first brush Sehun had felt on his arm became a hand latched onto his elbow which wouldn’t let go, even when Sehun attempted to pull away. He knew a Thai person when he saw one, so he skipped using broken English and went right to Thai, asking as politely as possible for the man to remove his grip before Sehun got a bruise—and called for help. (The man didn’t need to know that Sehun was bluffing. For one thing, he’d always bruised way too easily for his own good, so he’d known from the beginning that his arm would be a delightful shade of purple regardless of when the man pulled away. For another, Sehun loved Bangkok but wasn’t big on making lasting connections with anyone except for Tao—and that hadn’t been entirely voluntary on Sehun’s end at first anyway—so he’d said he would call for help, but in reality had no one that he thought he could turn to.)

Sehun had always liked his figure—so had Kyungsoo and Tao, actually—but in that moment, he was regretting his lithe dancer’s build and wishing he were a little stronger in selected areas than simply fit throughout. Despite Sehun’s best attempts to remain civil and contain his rising panic, the man refused to let him go; Sehun soon found himself being dragged down a darkly lit Soi 11, hoping against hope that someone would realize his distress and save him from his rejected suitor turned captor. To make matters worse, unused to such situations of heightened stress and emotion, Sehun found that his mind was blank and he was unable to recall the Thai word for “help”—even though that particular word was something Tao had insisted Sehun learn, despite the Korean male’s general disinterest in studying Thai. (“I won’t always be able to protect you,” Tao had said into Sehun’s hair one night after the two had gone clubbing and Tao had intervened when a guy at the bar had gotten a little too interested in the way Sehun looked in his skinny jeans. Sehun had only nodded, reveling in the sensation of feeling completely secure; that was something he hadn’t had with Kyungsoo—at least not physically—and also something Sehun missed terribly once Tao left him too.) Instead, Sehun found himself crying out “Help! Somebody help me, please!” in loud and increasingly panicked Korean.

Suddenly, the other man stopped short and Sehun quickly slammed his eyes shut. He realized that probably wasn’t the best reaction in his current situation, but he didn’t want to have to both see and feel whatever it was that the man was going to do to him. When Sehun felt the hand loosen its tight hold on his arm, he thought he’d finally found a chance to escape an awful fate on what was quickly becoming his worst birthday ever. Before he could run, however, Sehun heard a yelp as the grip transferred from his right arm to his left but held him firmly in place nevertheless. At the unexpected noise, Sehun’s eyes flew open of their own accord, and connected instantly with the glare of familiarly dark brown eyes surrounded by panda-like dark circles.

“Tao,” Sehun breathed out. Tao. He was here. Tao was here. They’d been broken up for more than a month and Sehun knew he had no claims to the almost instantaneous feeling of safety that washed over him at Tao’s sudden appearance, but he couldn’t help himself.

“Get away from him,” Tao growled at Sehun’s abductor through terrifyingly gritted teeth. The man looked like he wanted to argue, but when Tao released Sehun to bring his hands together and crack his knuckles menacingly, the Thai male wisely reconsidered. He backed away from a still-glaring Tao and, when the distance between them was far enough, turned and ran back the way he’d come with Sehun dragged behind him.

Crisis averted and danger removed, Sehun felt his body sag beneath him in a sign of obvious relief. Thankfully, Tao was there to catch him before he hit the ground, but Sehun was too hyped up on adrenaline to relax into the security he hated himself for still finding in Tao’s arms. “Let go of me,” he said to his ex-lover. “I’m grateful, really, but you don’t get to save me anymore.”

Tao made a noise of protest, but Sehun was too busy attempting to extricate himself from Tao’s embrace to notice or care. “You left me, remember?” Sehun asked bitterly.

Tao bit his lip, a clear sign to Sehun that his ex-boyfriend was annoyed. Give it a minute, Sehun thought, 3…2…1.

The Chinese male exploded. He grabbed Sehun by the shoulders and forced him to look up. “That’s not fair and you know it!” Tao said angrily, his Korean accented in the way that Sehun hadn’t even realized he’d missed. “I love you but for you it was only ever Kyungsoo.” He huffed. “We were together, but I never felt like you were as into me as I was into you. And then you would talk about Kyungsoo like he was the one you were dating, and it just made me so angry. I tried to be understanding at first because I knew after that first night that you were still healing and weren’t ready yet. But I tried to love you the best I could and it was never enough.” Tao looked sadly at a stunned Sehun—who’d never heard his ex-boyfriend speak so much at one time.

“I, I didn’t know,” Sehun stuttered in response. “I didn’t realize I talked about…well, you know.” He looked up at Tao and sighed. “I’m so so sorry, Taozi.” He said, slipping too easily back into using Tao’s nickname. “But why didn’t you say anything? If I had known, I would have—”

“What?” Tao asked, angry again. “You would have what? Stopped talking about him? Stopped comparing our relationships? Stopped loving him?” His eyes became upset slits as he let go of Sehun’s shoulders and stepped away. “Tell me honestly, Sehun-ah, could you have done that? No matter how much you might have liked being with me—could you have done that for me?”

Sehun opened his mouth to respond that of course he could have; that Tao was crazy for thinking otherwise; that he’d only ever been thinking of Tao when his Chinese lover had kissed him, held his hand, done something sweet; that he’d never once wished it were Kyungsoo—not Tao—discovering Bangkok by Sehun’s side. Tao shook his head and looked down, face betraying utter brokenness at receiving the unspoken answer he’d been expecting but hadn’t wanted. The Chinese male turned his back on Sehun and began to walk back up the street.

“Wait,” Sehun called out, suddenly hopeful after Tao’s reaction that maybe, just maybe, Tao still felt something for Sehun. “Taozi, wait!”

Tao paused, but didn’t turn around; regardless, Sehun saw his chance, and took it gladly. “You’re right,” he said quietly, “I couldn’t have done that. Not when we first met, not while we were dating, not even a month ago when you broke up with me.” He stopped for a deep breath and saw Tao’s body angle itself a little more in Sehun’s direction. “But that was then,” Sehun continued. “I came to Bangkok to get away from Kyungsoo, but I didn’t realize that I’d actually brought him with me. Then you appeared in that club like a dark angel to save me from myself and I didn’t know what to do with you. I ruined the night by being an emotional wreck but you took care of me anyway. You made me laugh when I was sad, and even when I wasn’t. You loved Bangkok because I loved Bangkok, and you willingly let yourself get pulled along whenever my restlessness drove me to exploration. You let me talk about my past with him—over and over and over again—and you didn’t get angry with me because you knew I was still getting over him when you met me.”

Sehun took another deep breath and reached out, grabbing Tao’s hands. The Chinese man had come back while Sehun had been talking and was again close enough for Sehun to touch him for encouragement. Tao looked at Sehun like Sehun’s words were actually making a difference, and Sehun readied himself for his scariest moment of the evening—scarier even than when he’d been basically assaulted earlier—“You kissed me like you didn’t care I was still subconsciously half in love with another man,” Sehun said with feeling, “and by the time I realized I was fully in love with you, it was too late for me. For us.”

Tao gaped at his ex-boyfriend as Sehun spoke, and gulped audibly when Sehun finished. “You’re in love with me?” Tao asked timidly, his voice tinged with hope. He was steeling himself for another hesitation, another unspoken rejection, but Sehun nodded, smiling for the first time that night. (For the first time in a while, actually. If Sehun thought about it, he might even have concluded that the total time since he could last remember being happy enough for a true smile was almost exactly one month ago when he’d called Tao to ask about the dark market.)

“Yes,” Sehun verbally affirmed. “Taozi, I’m in love with you.” His eyes looked sad, but he continued hopefully, “And I know I messed up; I know that. But if you’re willing to give me another chance, I’ll make sure I’m the best boyfriend you could ever ask for.”

Sehun had expected Tao to deliberate, or at least wait a moment before answering. What he hadn’t expected was for Tao to launch himself into Sehun’s arms and kiss him hard. “I missed you,” Tao whispered. “I hated myself for it, but I missed you.”

“Good,” Sehun said, returning the kiss with equal fervor before pulling back and cupping Tao’s face in his hands. “I hate that I made you so miserable, but I’m glad I made enough of an impression to make you miss me.” He pulled Tao’s face toward his own and kissed Tao again. “Was that a yes?” he asked—to be sure.

“Duh,” Tao replied. He took Sehun’s hands from his face and linked their fingers together. “Now if I remember correctly, don’t we have reservations to attend to?”

Sehun grinned at the contact and pulled Tao close as they walked back up the road.

As the two later sat enjoying their barbecue—cooked by Korean Sehun, but financed by a much richer Tao—it occurred to Sehun that he didn’t know why Tao had miraculously appeared in the alley right when Sehun needed him.

“Taozi?” Sehun broached the subject.

“Hmm?” Tao hummed in response.

“How did you know where I’d be? That I’d need your help?” The longer he thought about it, the more curious Sehun became.

“Oh!” Tao replied. “That?” Sehun nodded and Tao smiled handsomely. “Funny story actually. I was on my way here—it’d have been a shame to let reservations for good food go to waste—when I saw you across the street.” He paused. “You looked really distracted and kind of depressed, so I saw that guy too, but you didn’t.”

Sehun’s mouth formed a small O of awareness and Tao took the opportunity to kiss his boyfriend’s pink lips before continuing. “By the time I got across the street, you were gone, but so was he, so I followed you down the Soi. I wasn’t sure if you were going with him voluntarily, but when you cried for help, I couldn’t not do something, no matter how mad I wanted to still be.”

“Well, thanks,” Sehun said, smiling in gratitude. “I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t stepped in.”

“Look on the bright side,” Tao suggested, his mouth slipping into a wide grin. “Now you have a story to tell about me.”

Sehun smiled wryly in response. “You do realize I talked about Kyungsoo so much because I was getting over him. Does that mean we have to break up so I can tell my stories of you to someone else?”

Though the two were seated across from one another, Tao leaned across the table and pulled Sehun close. Tao barely let Sehun finish his teasing question before saying, “Don’t you dare. Do Kyungsoo was an idiot for letting you go. You’re mine.”

A month ago, Sehun would have been upset at the reminder that Kyungsoo decided he wanted Jongin—Sehun’s best friend—more than he wanted Sehun. A month ago, Sehun wouldn’t have accepted an insult directed at Kyungsoo, even if the person speaking badly was his own new boyfriend. A month ago, Sehun would have been uncomfortable with Tao’s obvious expression of affection and possessiveness because Sehun of a month ago did not realize he wanted more from Tao than an easy rebound with no strings attached.

No, Sehun thought, kissing Tao across the table again and almost getting burned by sizzling meat in the process. Pretty sure the only idiot in all of this was me.