The morning sun chased away any lingering fears of the night before. It seemed silly in the sober light of day that Chittaphon had been so afraid. Of what, a flash of lightning?

 

All day Chittaphon couldn’t stop thinking about Mark, and he hated himself for it. He still couldn’t believe how happy it made him to risk pneumonia by running through the pouring rain with Mark. But it made him unbelievably happy, happier than he had felt in a long time. And the best part of all, he had never felt so close to Mark in years. It was like he had his best friend back.

 

They had their own world, with their own jokes, and any time anything remotely amusing happened, Chittaphon couldn’t wait to tell Mark about it. When they told each other jokes, Chittaphon didn’t even have to finish his sentence before Mark started laughing, because he already knew where it was going. They shared one mind and one heart, two halves of the same whole.

 

Being friends with Mark was more satisfying than any relationship Chittaphon had ever been in. And suddenly he could understand what people meant when they said that there was nothing better than being in love with your best friend. Not that Chittaphon was anywhere near thinking of what he felt towards Mark as something as intimidating as love with a capital L.

 

But sometimes Chittaphon caught himself wondering what it would be like to press his lips to Mark’s cheek like they used to when they were still kids, and kisses were innocent affection. It could still be like that, now. Or maybe Chittaphon was just thinking too much again. He could easily get himself into a stupid funk again if he kept this up.

 

His thoughts about Mark were eclipsed unsparingly when Chittaphon received  a phone call from an unfamiliar number. The area code was local, which meant that it might have been a classmate, or a friend with a new phone. He picked up the call without thinking twice.

 

”Hey, what's up?”

 

Silence, and then a voice unfamiliar to Chittaphon. “Is this Chitt–”

 

”Ten, yeah,” Chittaphon said before the man on the other end of the line had a chance to mess up his name. “Who is this?”

 

Another pause. “My name is Youngho. I need your help.”

 

“Okay, hold up,

how exactly did you get my number?” Chittaphon asked because he couldn't recall ever meeting anyone named Youngho.

 

“Someone who knows you very well gave me your contact information.”

 

A prickle of unease danced along Chittaphon’s skin. “And what do you want from me?” he whispered, wondering if he should just hang up already.

 

“I need your help to speak to my husband.” He added desperately, “Please.”

 

“Wait, like marriage counseling?” Chittaphon asked, with the urge to almost laugh.

 

“Yes. In a way.”

 

“I’m sorry, but I’m probably not the best person to ask for relationship advice.” The list of people more qualified than Chittaphon was endless. Even Mark would be of better help.

 

“I’ll pay you,” Youngho said. “I don’t know why, but I was told it

has to be you.”

 

That changed things. The money part, of course. It was still a little creepy and unsettling that this man managed to find Chittaphon in the first place. He didn’t even want to think about who might be out there, handing Chittaphon’s number to strangers. Instead he thought about how much therapists charged for their services. Chittaphon could buy a nice present for Mark.

 

“I’ll think about it,” Chittaphon said. When there was a moment of silence in his earpiece, he said, “Okay, I’ll help you. When do you want to meet?”

 

“Would tonight be too early?”

 

“Wow, it’s that bad, huh? Got a pen and paper? I’ll give you my address.”

 

He told Youngho his address, and they both hung up. Chittaphon wondered if he was making a mistake.

 

Nothing especially unusual happened for the rest of the day, besides maybe Chittaphon submitting an essay a full eight hours before its deadline. He pushed Youngho to the back of his mind and managed to even forget about him until Mark returned home that evening.

 

“Hey, hyung, you busy tonight?” Mark asked with a hopeful smile.

 

“Oh, um, I actually have someone coming over tonight, so I hope you don’t mind….”

 

If Chittaphon hadn’t been paying such close attention, he might not have even noticed the way Mark’s smile deflated just a little bit.

 

Chittaphon winced, realizing how bad it sounded. But he couldn’t tell Mark the truth, he at least knew enough to understand that this was a meeting meant to be discreet. Besides, he wouldn’t even know how to explain it to Mark even if he could tell him.

 

“Yeah, sure, I’ll stay at Donghyuck’s place tonight! He’s invited me over a few times, and he’s even got an air mattress.”

 

“Thanks Mark, you’re the best.”

 

 

Chittaphon wasn’t as nervous as he should have been. He was inviting a complete stranger over, and Chittaphon wasn’t even sure how Youngho found his information. But for some reason, that didn’t matter. Chittaphon just hoped that Youngho wouldn’t realize he was a fraud, and that he would still pay him afterwards.

 

There was a knock on the door at exactly nine, their arranged meeting time. Chittaphon opened the door to find a tall, stylish man with artfully messy dark brown hair.

 

“Youngho,” he said, and extended a hand.

 

“Nice to meet you,” Chittaphon said. “Call me Ten.”

 

When Chittaphon shook his hand, he smelled on Youngho the faint scent of coffee and expensive leather. He didn’t look older than Chittaphon by much, maybe four or five years at the most. But there was pain and sorrow etched into the premature wrinkles lining his face that made him look much older than a man in his late twenties.

 

Looking more closely, Chittaphon realized that it was more than just unhappiness. It was grief. He didn’t know how he knew it. But somehow Chittaphon recognized that grief was what had settled into Youngho’s laugh lines, and it was grief that weighed his shoulders down. Youngho was a rope, and his grief had pulled at him from both ends. It stretched him taut until he frayed.

 

Chittaphon invited Youngho inside. He almost failed to notice that there was someone else outside standing just behind Youngho. A shorter, slighter man with eyes that were sad in a slightly different way.

 

“Is that your husband?” Chittaphon asked.

 

“My husband’s dead,” Youngho said flatly without turning around.

 

He wouldn’t even look at the man who was standing at the door, whose mouth hanging a little bit open now. Like he was hurt. But man at the door didn’t say anything, and it filled Chittaphon with an inexplicable sadness.

 

“Who’s that, then?” Chittaphon demanded, grabbing Youngho by the arm and forcing him to look back at the door.

 

There wasn’t much color in Youngho’s face to begin with, but he looked even more sickly and sallow when his eyes fell on the man standing there.

 

He swallowed, and then said in a timid voice, “Taeil?”

 

There was so much barely contained pain and hope in Youngho’s voice that it just about tore Chittaphon’s heart to shreds. Youngho took a step forward, and Chittaphon released his arm.

 

Youngho froze, and something about the unnatural stiffness of his body made Chittaphon forget to breathe for a moment.

 

“Where did he go?” Youngho asked in a frightened voice even though he was standing right in front of Taeil. “Why can’t I see him?”

 

As bewildered and slightly terrified Chittaphon was, something in his intuition told him to touch Youngho again, and sure enough, when Chittaphon’s fingers grasped Youngho’s elbow, Youngho let out this choked little noise that sounded somewhere between a sob and a sigh of relief.

 

Youngho moved forward to hold onto Taeil, but Taeil shook his head sadly and stepped away, and Youngho let his fingers fall back down to his sides.

 

“Who is he?” Chittaphon asked quietly, not wanting to interrupt the moment between the two men.

 

It took a moment for Youngho to find his voice. Finally he said, “That’s Taeil, my husband. He after a car accident a long time ago, and I’ve been trying to speak to him ever since.”

 

Once they were all inside Chittaphon’s apartment, the two men and the ghost, Chittaphon tried to take a good look at Taeil. And then he realized that he couldn’t. It was like trying to look at him through a haze of smoke. His form was vague around the edges, like ripples from heat distortion. It was difficult to gather more than impressions of him.

 

Watching the two of them, Chittaphon understood why Youngho’s grief was so powerful. Why it was a grief that would not leave him. He saw the way that Youngho couldn’t stop looking at Taeil, even though Taeil couldn’t say anything. It was like Youngho was a sunflower and Taeil was the sun. Chittaphon had never seen anyone look at someone else with such love and longing.

 

It was strange to watch them, to see so many unsaid words and silent emotions pass through their gazes. It was especially strange because Chittaphon had to hold onto Youngho the entire time just so that he could see Taeil. Any time they broke contact, Taeil vanished from Youngho’s sight.

 

“So what happened?” Chittaphon asked eventually, because Youngho wanted his help, and Chittaphon wanted to help him.

 

Youngho looked like he had forgotten how to speak. His mouth opened, but nothing came out. He chewed on his bottom lip, and then without looking away from Taeil, he said, “We met at a concert. I’m was a violinist in an orchestra, and Taeil was a singer. We were both musicians, so we understood each other. But he understood me even better than my other friends who were also musicians.”

 

Taeil nodded in encouragement. The corners of his mouth lifted up in the hint of a smile, but there was a permanent sadness in his eyes that wouldn’t go away, even when he was smiling.

 

Youngho continued, “He loved me, and accepted me even though I had made many mistakes in the past. I had a son from a previous failed relationship, and Taeil even loved him too. I was so happy for two years, I couldn’t believe it.”

 

And then his expression clouded over, and Taeil looked at him with pain and pleading in his eyes.

 

“We were returning home from a concert late at night. Our son was a neighbor’s house. It was rainy, and dark, and I….” Youngho’s voice broke, and he bit his lip, unable to speak.

 

“It’s okay,” Chittaphon said quietly. “You don’t have to finish if it’s too painful.”

 

Youngho shook his head and let out a tiny sigh. Just a little exhale.

 

“The worst part,” he said in a low, quavering voice, “was that the hospital wouldn’t let me visit him. Our marriage wasn’t legally recognized, so I wasn’t considered a family member. I wanted to be there with him. I wanted

someone to be with him in his final moments, but….”

 

Youngho looked down, and few tears fell on his lap. “I’m so sorry, Taeil. I’m sorry I couldn’t be with you. I’m sorry you had to be alone.”

 

Taeil smiled at him, but his lips were trembling like he was trying hard not to cry. If Chittaphon’s heart wasn’t broken before, it was shattered now.

 

“I miss you so much,” Youngho mumbled. “I love you, and I still can’t stop thinking about you. I wish I could be next to you. When can I hold your hand again?”

 

Taeil looked at him, and then he looked at Chittaphon and mouthed

I’m sorry. Chittaphon didn’t understand why Taeil wasn’t looking at Youngho until his vision went black and his entire body went cold, like he had fallen into the frigid waters of the Arctic.

 

Chittaphon felt his mouth move, but his voice was someone else’s. It was soft and musical, and he realized, when he felt his hands reach out for Youngho’s hands, that it was Taeil’s voice.

 

“I love you too,” Taeil said, “but it’s time to let go.”

 

Youngho stared at him. It was Chittaphon’s hand holding onto his, but it was Taeil’s voice and Taeil’s expression. The sweet sad smile he had dreamed of seeing again for so long. It gripped his heart and made him forget how to breathe.

 

“I tried to forget you,” Youngho said roughly. “I spent so much time trying to forget about you. But how could I?”

 

“You don’t have to forget about me. Just don’t forget about your son,” Taeil said gently. “He still needs you.”

 

Youngho frowned and chewed on his lip again. “Minhyung is your son, too. We were raising him together.”

 

“And now Minhyung needs both of us to watch over him,” Taeil reminded him.

 

Taeil wiped away the tear streaks on Youngho’s cheeks with the pads of his thumbs.

 

“I know you were upset about me dying, but I’m fine. I promise.” Taeil smiled as if to prove it. “Don’t worry about me anymore. We’ll see each other soon.”

 

“I miss you so much,” Youngho whispered again.

 

“I know,” Taeil said sadly. “When we’re born again, let’s find each other and fall in love.”

 

He leaned in to kiss Youngho, and his lips felt soft and familiar on Youngho’s mouth.

 

Chittaphon felt a strand of energy snap, and he knew that Taeil had reached his limit. The coldness faded away as Taeil released Chittaphon and disappeared from their world. Chittaphon leaned away from Youngho and saw a flicker of surprise in the older man’s eyes, followed by understanding and acceptance.

 

“Thank you,” Youngho said. His eyes were red and watery, but he was wearing a smile that said everything that couldn’t be said with words.

 

It was the first time Chittaphon had seen him smile. Finally Chittaphon could see a sliver of the man Youngho had been before he was caught in a tornado of grief, the charming, confident man he had been before he lost Taeil.

 

Youngho nodded at Chittaphon, and left. He never heard from Youngho again after that. Chittaphon didn’t even hear him close the door.

 

Chittaphon didn’t know what to do with himself. He was still recovering from the bizarre, otherworldly experience when his phone started vibrating. The low buzzing filled him with apprehension, and Chittaphon was almost afraid to pick it up until he saw who was calling.

 

“What do you want, Donghyuck?” Chittaphon asked.

 

“Is this how you greet all your friends?” Donghyuck said, but he didn’t sound too offended.

 

Chittaphon chuckled. “Can I help you?”

 

“Um, can I ask you for a favor, Ten-hyung?”

 

It was the first time Chittaphon had ever referred to him with honorifics, and Chittaphon felt himself softening towards the younger boy. “Depends on what you need.”

 

“Can you invite me to a party tonight? Mark said that you went to a lot of parties, so I assumed that you were invited to a lot, and that you’d be able to help me get into one,” Donghyuck began rambling.

 

Chittaphon cut him off. “Is there a specific party you’re going to? And where’s Mark? Is he with you?”

 

“He told me that he was going to come over tonight, but then he canceled on me.”

 

“Why?” Chittaphon asked, unsure of whether or not he should be worried yet.

 

“His friend Jaehyun invited him to a party. I wasn’t invited, but I kind of wanted to go too….” Donghyuck trailed off, sounding small and lonely.

 

Chittaphon started to feel a little sorry for him. Was this how Mark felt when Chittaphon went to parties without him? He had always assumed that Mark didn’t want to go.

 

“Come over, and I’ll take you. I think I know where they might be.”

 

Chittaphon could hear Donghyuck’s voice brighten. “Thanks hyung! I owe you one.”

 

It wasn’t completely out of sympathy for Donghyuck, of course. Chittaphon didn’t like the idea of Jaehyun taking Mark to a seedy frat party. He told himself that Mark’s parents had trusted him to take care of him and to keep him out of trouble. Which was hilarious, since Chittaphon could hardly keep himself out of trouble.

 

But he had to try, for Mark.

 

 

“Hey, aren’t those your friends?” Jaehyun asked, gesturing over at a table in the corner of the frat basement where Donghyuck and Chittaphon were being handed drinks in red plastic cups.

 

“Oh yeah, that’s Ten-hyung and my friend Donghyuck,” Mark said.

 

“Aren’t you going to say hi to them?”

 

Mark shrugged. He really didn’t feel like talking to anyone, and he liked that Jaehyun picked up on that. It was nice sitting on the sofa with Jaehyun, who didn’t ask him too many questions, but still joked around now and then to cheer him up.

 

They had hung out a few times after Mark asked for Jaehyun’s help on his homework. It turned out they had far more in common than expected, even considering their identical majors.

 

And tonight, Mark felt like spending time with someone who understood him without having to explain anything.

 

Over in the corner, a throng of girls was crowding around both Chittaphon and Donghyuck. He could tell that Chittaphon was trying to keep them at a distance, knocking away a few hands on his shoulders when some of the girls got too close. But Donghyuck was loving the attention, especially the older girls fawning over him.

 

Mark heard Donghyuck’s boastful laughter from across the room, even over the loud background music. He chuckled under his breath. “Good for you, Donghyuck.”

 

“Hmm?” Jaehyun said absentmindedly.

 

“Nothing,” Mark said.

 

Jaehyun nodded, without looking away from the opposite corner of the room where a tall, thin man with flaming red-orange hair was talking to a couple of other guys. He had a shifty look about him, especially because he kept glancing over at Jaehyun before quickly breaking eye contact. Mark vaguely recalled Jaehyun introducing the man earlier as Doyoung.

 

“Hey Mark?” Jaehyun said lazily.

 

“What, hyung?”

 

“Would you mind making out with me?”

 

“What?!” Mark exclaimed with a nervous giggle.

 

“Don’t worry, I don’t have the hots for you or anything. I’m pretty sure Ten does, though.”

 

“Wait, what–”

 

“I just need to make out with you real quick so I can test out a theory.”

 

“Um, alright, if you say so….”

 

It was the first time Mark had kissed a guy, but it definitely wasn’t Jaehyun’s first time. Jaehyun threaded his fingers through Mark’s hair and kissed him deeply, his warm wet tongue slipping inside Mark’s mouth. Jaehyun tasted like gin, and he smelled like expensive cologne. Mark’s mind wandered during their kiss, and for a moment he found himself wondering what Chittaphon’s lips might taste like.

 

When Jaehyun pulled away, Mark wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and giggled, “Hyung, what the ! You used your tongue!”

 

“Thanks for being a good sport,” Jaehyun murmured, and he ruffled Mark’s hair fondly.

 

Mark looked over at Chittaphon’s corner of the room and locked eyes with Chittaphon, who was staring at him with a strange, unreadable expression. He didn’t look disgusted, thank goodness, but he almost looked hurt. Mark didn’t want to think about what the kiss meant, what Chittaphon’s expression meant, what any of this meant.  

 

He looked over at Jaehyun, who had a triumphant smirk on his face as he watched Doyoung’s corner of the basement. Mark could tell even from this far that Doyoung was blushing. The tips of his ears were bright red, and he was trying very hard not to look back at Jaehyun.

 

Mark wasn’t sure he wanted to know what that meant, either.

 

Someone handed Mark a shot of something strong in a small paper Dixie cup. He drank it one gulp. There was a blissful rush of alcohol hitting his bloodstream, and then he felt sick.

 

 

It seemed that almost every time Chittaphon checked on Mark, he would be gazing up at Jaehyun with ing stars in his eyes. It made his stomach twist, but he kept looking at him, kept checking on Mark for some reason. Maybe Chittaphon kept doing it because sometimes he did things he knew would hurt.

 

And then there was the ing kiss. Chittaphon had just kissed a man earlier that day while being possessed by the ghost of the man’s husband, but somehow that didn’t feel as wrong as seeing Jaehyun kiss Mark.

 

At least Donghyuck looked like he was having fun.

 

As he continued to sulk on his own, Chittaphon lost track of time until he felt Donghyuck tugging at his sleeve.

 

“Do you know where Mark went?” Donghyuck asked.

 

“Nope.” Chittaphon looked around, but he didn’t see Mark anywhere. “Did you try calling him?”

 

Donghyuck nodded and he said worriedly, “I called him a few times, but he didn’t answer.”

 

“Come on, let’s find Jaehyun. Maybe he’ll know where Mark is.”

 

They pushed through a crowd of faced college students and found Jaehyun and Doyoung arguing outside on a balcony.

 

“Do you guys know where Mark went?” Chittaphon asked loudly, interrupting whatever impassioned conversation they seemed to be having.

 

Doyoung frowned at him, annoyed by the interruption. “Mark who?”

 

“I really don’t know,” Jaehyun said apologetically. “He told me he was leaving earlier, but I really don’t know where he went.”

 

Chittaphon felt panic closing around his windpipe. He thanked them and grabbed Donghyuck by the sleeve.

 

“Let me walk you home,” he said gruffly to Donghyuck, “and then I’ll go look for Mark.”

 

“Do you need my help?” Donghyuck asked.

 

“It’s fine, it’s getting late. You should go to bed soon. I’ll find him. I promise.”

 

When they reached Donghyuck’s dorm building, Donghyuck gave Chittaphon a quick hug before going inside.

 

For a moment Chittaphon stood outside under the orange glow of a streetlamp, breathing in the crisp, cold night air. He looked up at the stars, and then he started looking for Mark.

 

Their apartment was the first, stupidly obvious place he looked. When he discovered that Mark wasn’t there, Chittaphon felt his anxiety resurface. He ran out into the street, which was eerily empty at this time of night. Chittaphon felt like screaming. He ran past rowhouses where he could smell the stench of alcohol from outside, and then he ran towards the buildings on campus.

 

As Chittaphon was running aimlessly, looking around for a sign of Mark, he kept calling Mark’s phone. And then it occurred to Chittaphon, why Mark might not be answering.

 

He changed direction and ran towards the old chemistry building, which had the lecture hall with no reception. Chittaphon hoped that he was right. He hoped that was the reason why Mark wasn’t answering his phone.

 

Chittaphon’s heart clamored in his chest when he swiped into the building. He leaned against the wall for a moment, catching his breath. His heart was still beating furiously, and not just because he had just been running. He was getting more and more nervous by the second, and he dreaded finding an empty lecture hall. The feeling of worry crawled up into his throat and made it hard to breathe.

 

He yanked the door to the lecture hall open, and the sound of the slam echoed off the domed ceiling.

 

Mark was sitting on the edge of the stage, and he looked up at the sudden noise. “Hyung? What are you doing here?”

 

“Thank god you’re okay,” Chittaphon said, and he ran over to Mark to hug him around the waist.

 

“Hey, hyung, I’m fine,” Mark said gently, running his fingers through Chittaphon’s hair. “You weren’t worried about me, were you?”

 

“Donghyuck and I both tried calling you, but you weren’t answering your phone.”

 

“Oh ,” Mark muttered. “It’s a dead zone in here, I haven’t been receiving your calls. I’m so sorry. I’ll have to apologize to Donghyuck later, too.”

 

“It’s okay. I’m glad I don’t have to worry about you.”

 

Chittaphon looked up and noticed that Mark’s eyes were watery and the tip of his nose was red. “Mark, were you crying?”

 

Mark tried to look away and hide his face, but Chittaphon caught his chin with the tip of his finger. He made Mark look at him face-to-face.

 

“Are you upset? It’s not about me, is it?”

 

Mark avoided his gaze.

 

“It’s not about you, don’t worry,” Mark mumbled down at his hands. “It’s stupid.”

 

“Trust me,” Chittaphon said, wrapping his arm around Mark’s shoulders. “Whatever you’re thinking about, I can think of something ten times stupider.”

 

Mark chuckled a little at that. Chittaphon felt the breath Mark took through the rise and fall of his shoulders.

 

Finally, Mark said, “Remember how I said I was adopted?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“I’ve been thinking about my real parents lately. Today especially, for some reason. And I miss them.”

 

“Dude, I know it’s tough. It’s never easy to lose parents. Can’t imagine how you must feel right now.”

 

“The thing is, I can’t remember a thing about them,” Mark said with a bitter little laugh. “I only know how they looked because of a couple photographs, and I think I might remember how their voices sounded, but I might just be imagining that.”

 

At most, he could only remember warm, strong arms and vague impressions of being loved.

 

“It’s okay for you to miss them, even when you can’t remember them exactly. That’s not stupid it all.”

 

“You think so?” Mark said hesitantly.

 

Chittaphon nodded. He hesitated for a moment and then leaned in to kiss Mark’s cheek. It’s something they had done often as kids, before becoming self-conscious about how they expressed their affection for each other. But it felt natural now. And Chittaphon liked the way Mark’s cheeks glowed pink afterwards.

 

“When you said your ‘real’ parents, did you mean your birth mom and your birth dad?” Chittaphon asked.

 

Mark looked conflicted for a moment, and then he shook his head. “Like I said, it was complicated. My biological mom left my dad after I was born. And then my dad met a guy. They were never married officially since it wasn’t legal yet, but they….”

 

He trailed off, unable to find the right words.

“They loved each other?” Chittaphon suggested.

 

“Something like that, yeah.” Mark was anxiously watching Chittaphon’s face, trying to gauge his reaction.

 

“They loved you too, Mark,” Chittaphon said, a little absently. His mind was somewhere else at the moment, trying to pin the strange feeling of déja vu overcoming him. He felt like he had heard this story before. “Do you remember what the man’s name was? Your dad’s partner?”

 

Mark’s face scrunched cutely as he tried to remember. “William? No, that’s not right. His name was Taeil.”

 

Chittaphon’s first reaction was to burst out laughing. “Where did William come from? That’s so random!”

 

“No, no, no, listen,” Mark laughed. “I tried to call him Ilie-hyung, but it always came out as William. It was stupid, and my dad liked it, so his name turned into William.”

 

“That’s funny. You said his name was Taeil?” A nod from Mark. “What was your dad’s name?”

 

“Youngho,” Mark answered. “It's been weird lately, I almost feel like I can remember them better. Like a lot of what I’ve forgotten is coming back.”

 

Chittaphon didn't have an answer to that. His body went cold and then hot when he remembered why the names Youngho and Taeil sounded so familiar. Youngho, Taeil, and their son–

 

“Minhyung?” Chittaphon said.

 

“Yeah?” Mark answered. He saw the stricken look on Chittaphon’s face and asked, “What's the matter, hyung? Are you alright?”

 

“Nothing,” Chittaphon said quickly, shaking his head a little to clear his mind. “How was the party tonight?”

 

“It was okay.” Mark shrugged. “Pretty boring. Didn’t really feel like talking to anyone, because I was thinking about my parents all night. But Jaehyun was really nice.”

 

“Do you like Jaehyun?”

 

“Yeah! We have so much in common, it’s like he’s my other half–” Mark stopped when he saw Chittaphon’s pained expression. “Why, do you not like him?”

 

Chittaphon was never good at hiding his feelings.

 

He couldn’t help thinking about the way Mark lit up when he was talking to Jaehyun, the way that Jaehyun’s lips fit against Mark’s mouth…. But somehow, those things didn’t matter because right now Mark was watching Chittaphon like he was the only thing in the world that mattered. The only thing that ever mattered.

 

An ache that was never really not there suddenly became sharp in Chittaphon’s chest, and he looked away from Mark.

 

“Hyung,” Mark said softly. “Do you like me?”

 

The way Mark said “like” made it clear that he meant it differently than the way he used the word before. And Chittaphon did not want to talk about it right now. He would do anything to talk about anything else, that’s how much he didn’t want to talk about it.

 

“Yeah,” Chittaphon finally choked out. It felt like swallowing knives. “I do. I’m sorry.”

 

“Don’t be sorry. I like you too, hyung.”

 

It took a second for Chittaphon’s brain to catch up. By the time the words finally sank in, Mark was tilting Chittaphon’s chin up with a fingertip to kiss him. Mark’s lips were soft and warm, and all Chittaphon could hear for a few heart racing moments was the gentle stick of their mouths and his own pulse beating in his veins. It was exactly how a first kiss should have gone.

 

Mark’s eyes traced Chittaphon’s face, like he was trying to take in all of him at once, but couldn’t. His gaze flicked from Chittaphon’s eyes down to his mouth, and then up to a scar near Chittaphon’s temple. He touched the scar gently with the pad of his thumb, feeling the narrow indentation on his skin.

 

“This scar wasn’t always here, was it?” Mark asked softly.

 

“No, I only got it a couple years ago,” Chittaphon said, self-consciously reaching up to touch the scar.

 

“What happened? How did you get it?”

 

Chittaphon flushed in embarrassment. “Ah, it’s really not a cool story. I got it in a fight.”

 

“No way, hyung!” Mark exclaimed, looking impressed. “What was the fight about?”

 

Chittaphon squirmed, clearly reluctant to tell the story. “There was this girl,” he said.

 

Mark nodded knowingly. “There’s always a girl.”

 

“No, I don’t think you understand,” Chittaphon said. “The girl said something I thought was funny, so I repeated it. But she thought I was making fun of her, so she slapped me. One of her rings scratched my skin, and I ended up with a scar.”

 

“Wait, so you’re telling me that you got that scar from being slapped by a girl?” Mark giggled.

 

“It sounds so uncool when you put it that way,” Chittaphon whined, feeling his face go hot all over. He buried his face in hands. “Contrary to popular belief, I actually do have pride, you know.”

 

Mark kissed him on the cheek and said, “You’re so cute–I mean, cool. I love you, hyung.”

Before Chittaphon could respond, the door slammed open for the second time that night. It was Doyoung, with Jaehyun clinging tightly to his waist. Their slick red lips and messy hair made no secret of what they had been doing probably just a few moments before.

 

“I thought you said this place would be empty!” Doyoung hissed.

 

“We were just on our way out, weren’t we hyung?” Mark said, elbowing Chittaphon in the ribs.

 

“Uh, yeah,” Chittaphon agreed, and he followed Mark to the exit, their pinky fingers hooked together.

 

“Hello, I’m Jaehyun, the love of Doyoung’s life,” Jaehyun said happily to Mark and Chittaphon as they passed by.

 

“My current boyfriend,” Doyoung corrected. “Are you going to keep introducing yourself as the love of my life?”

 

“Until I can introduce myself as your husband,” Jaehyun said as a dopey grin.

 

The door shut behind them, and Chittaphon and Mark could hear the muffled sounds of Jaehyun trying to flirt with Doyoung all the way down the hallway. They didn’t stop giggling until they were outside, where it was so chilly their laughter could be seen in opaque puffs of steam.

The air was cold, but their mouths were warm when they kissed each other under soft white moonlight. It felt like a perfect night to be in love.

 

 

 

sooo i guess ten’s first kiss with a dude was technically his boyfriend’s dead dad. lmao johnten rise (from the dead)

 

but we’re not going to think about that too much °˖✧◝(⁰▿⁰)◜✧˖°

 

thank you so much for reading!!! hope you enjoyed it <3