Duang With You

Stumbling in. That's how I described Duang's arrival. He was utterly drunk, barely able to stand, being supported by Jet and Jettana. I used to think music students drank heavily, but seeing this makes me reconsider.

 

"Thanks, Pae. And you, too, Jettana."

 

"Not fair! You call him by his first name, but not me? Call me Prachai."

 

"Are you sure you can get him to his room by yourself, Mr Quinn?"

 

"We're the same size," I reply flatly, exhausted. I'd been waiting for his call to say he made it back to his dorm, but instead, I got a call from his friends saying he was wasted. When I asked where his dorm key was, he refused to tell me. Still cheeky, even when drunk. What a headache.

 

"Take care of my friend, okay?"

 

"If he gets out of line, just smash a bottle over his head," Pae jokes, pointing to his own head.

 

I nod. No worries-Duang and I are evenly matched. Whenever we arm-wrestled, we'd take turns winning and losing.

 

"Drive safe. See you."

 

"Got it!"

 

I turn around, struggling to walk because Duang is so drunk he can't even stand. Tomorrow, I'll have to have a serious talk with him. Getting this drunk, even if he were a friend, I'd scold him… Let alone someone I'm seeing. 

 

"Heyyyy."

 

I cup his face and turn it away because the smell of alcohol is overwhelming. His face is flushed, his ears red. I hope he won't die from alcohol poisoning or something. My life is chaotic enough as it is.

 

Supporting him all the way to his room, I tell him to rest his head on my shoulder properly. If he falls, he'll definitely crack his head open. Unlocking his door is a struggle because he keeps swaying, as if he's about to collapse. I sigh in relief once I manage to push him onto the couch, where he half-sits, half-lies. I plop down beside him. Not long after, he crawls over and rests his head on my lap.

 

"You smell nice."

 

"A pervert even when you're drunk, huh?"

 

"I don't waste any opportunities," he laughs to himself, annoyingly, before settling into a steady rhythm of breathing on my lap.

 

I shake my head in exasperation, gently running my fingers through his dark brown hair. I figure I'll let him sleep for a bit before waking him up to shower. That might sober him up more than having him shower now, risking a slip and a cracked head in the bathroom.

 

I spend a good while listening to almost an entire jazz album, watching the eyelashes of the one who sleeps soundly on my lap. Maybe this is what people mean when they talk about exceptions.

 

He's an exception in so many ways for me. He came into my life, and it seemed like he'd leave just as easily. But no, he stayed. He stayed in a way that made me realise he wasn't suffering from my nature. From the way I am.

 

"Duang." He mumbles a response in his throat, like a child. I smirk, thinking to myself that I wouldn't mind if he just stayed asleep forever.... he's cute like this.

 

"Babe."

 

"What the!"

 

But nah. Even when he's being loud and dramatic, he's cute in his own way.

 

"Can you say it one more time, pleasee?"

 

"Go take a shower," I say, standing up and letting his heavy head thud against the not-so-soft couch. He groans dramatically, but I'm used to it-that attention-seeking behaviour of his.

 

Duang stands up to his full height, looking at me with a face like he's about to cry. He sways a bit, still not fully sober, but at least he seems more aware than he was half an hour ago.

Honestly, I like that we're the same height. We even measured ourselves seriously once with the sports science students, because there's always that teasing about who's shorter being the 'bottom.' What a load of crap.

 

"My head hurts."

 

"Serves you right for drinking like an idiot."

 

"You're so mean."

 

"Hurry up and shower so we can sleep," I sigh, grabbing a bottle of water to cool my frustration.

 

He slumps his shoulders, holding out his hand for a towel. I nod toward the wardrobe, telling him to grab one himself and wear whatever he wants. I also tell him there's a new toothbrush on the shelf by the bathroom mirror. Then he disappears to take care of himself.

 

I pick up my Marshall headphones to listen to the music I need to study for next week's exam. I still don't fully understand the sheet music... I mean, not on a deeper level. I focus on myself for a while until he comes out in his pyjamas.

 

I squint at him as he mouths something, but I can't hear him because the noise-cancelling headphones block everything except the jazz in my head. Eventually, he walks over and pulls them off. Normally, I'd be annoyed if anyone did that, but like I said before… He's an exception in so many ways.

 

"I'm not wearing underwear."

 

"Fuck you."

 

I kick him away, and he laughs, clearly amused, as he stands at the foot of the bed drying his hair. I gather the scattered music books on the bed to clear some space. There are already two pillows since it's a king-sized bed. I don't like an empty bed, so I always have two pillows and two bolsters.

 

"When you're done drying your hair, turn off the lights."

 

"Got it."

 

"I'm sleeping on the left."

"Whatever you say. I'm just grateful you're not making me sleep on the couch."

 

"You should be."

 

I pull the blanket over myself, inhaling the scent of fabric softener that always makes me sleepy. Not long after, the lights go out. I see him faintly through the streetlight filtering in from outside as he climbs into bed next to me. Our arms touch under the blanket. Closer than ever.

 

"Quinn."

 

"I'm listening."

 

"I'm not drunk, just so you know."

 

The closest we've ever been.

Closer than anyone else.

 

"I like you."

 

And we'll probably only get closer.

 

"I still like you as much as the first day I started liking you."

 

I hum in response, not saying it back, but I know he understands my silence. I reach out to loosely hold his middle and index fingers, closing my eyes before whispering softly, quieter than an accidental tap on a keyboard.

 

"Goodnight."

 

And he responds by intertwining all his fingers with mine. He's my exception in so many ways… And he'll continue to be, in ways I can't even predict.

 

 ════[changbins_delulu_wife]════

 

I watch Duang twirl his car keys, humming a tune from the car ride earlier, before nudging my shoulder and asking with wide eyes. I don't respond because my mind is still stuck on this morning.

 

"Hey, babe."

 

One bolster wasn't enough to keep him on his side, or maybe I got annoyed and kicked it away. Either way, I woke up to find Duang curled up against my stomach, arms wrapped tightly around my waist, while I loosely held him in return.

 

"Babeeeeee."

 

I snap out of my thoughts, looking at him as he transforms into a three-year-old, pointing at a bubble tea shop. I roll my eyes. It's like he's forgotten why we came to the Siam area in the first place.

 

"We're going to be late."

 

"Late for what? Weren't you here to buy clothes?"

 

"You're getting a tattoo, Duang."

 

"Huh?"

 

I chuckle softly, watching his face go pale like a boiled chicken.

 

"C'mon, don't prank me like that."

 

"You told me to remind you. I wrote it down in my notes."

 

"For real?"

 

"Let's go to Lido."

 

"Babeeee," he whines, clinging to my shoulder like a child. I meet his teary-eyed gaze.

 

What's he chickening out for now? It's the day of the appointment, and he's already paid the deposit. So forgetful.

 

"I remember now. I was drunk. I drew it, and my senior dared me to get it tattooed."

 

"That's your doing. Now, get it done."

 

"Come on, it's just a little money."

"It's still money. Let's go."

 

I grab his wrist and pull him along, tired of his stalling. By the time we reach the stairs to the second floor of Lido, my head's pounding from his endless whining about being scared of needles, feeling faint, wondering how far the hospital is, and questioning why he had to come all the way from Nakhon Pathom for this.

 

"Pull yourself together, Duang." He pouts. I wish others could see him like this. He's wearing a black graphic tee I bought in England last year, paired with basic jeans and sneakers he doesn't even bother to wear properly. Everything's almost fine-except his face.

 

"You're already here. What's there to be scared of?"

 

"Can I hug you?"

 

"Stop being annoying."

 

"Come on, Quinn. It's an emergency. I'm not even thinking anything inappropriate."

 

"Don't chicken out. It's a tiny tattoo. I'll sit with you."

 

"C'monn."

 

"Don't use that tone with me."

 

"Then can I hold your hand?"

 

I really want to smack him for being so annoying. What does he think this is, some kind of marketplace negotiation? I sigh and nod slightly because we're already standing in front of the tattoo shop.

 

"I asked for two designs, though."

 

"That's your problem."

 

"I'll tell the artist to just do one, but it's such a shame. They're both so pretty," he says awkwardly, flashing a sheepish smile as he pulls out his iPhone to show me the designs. One is a pine forest with the sun. The other is the sea with the moon.

 

"Just showing you, not trying to-"

"I'll get one too."

 

I don't meet his eyes when I say it. Maybe it's because my heart skips a beat at my own decision and the wide smile spreading across his face.

 

"I'm not forcing you, Quinn."

 

"You could never."

 

"Is there a hidden agenda here?" The person next to me starts getting all excited.

I glance at his warm hand resting on my thigh. It's his habit-whenever he talks to someone, he likes to place his hand there, sometimes stroking, tapping, or squeezing. When he notices me staring, he pulls his hand away. I softly tell him it's fine. And yes...He puts his hand back, but higher this time.

 

"That's crossing the line."

 

"Oops, sowwy."

 

"Excuse me, your appointment was for 1:30, right?"

 

"Yes, that's right."

 

"The design is the same one you sent me on LINE, correct?" The tattoo artist asks, and Duang nods enthusiastically before walking over to point at things on the artist's Mac screen. They're probably finalising the design. Then he waves me over to take a look.

 

"This looks good, right? I think it'll look great on the ankle."

 

"I was thinking the same-inner ankle."

 

"So, whose design is whose now?"

 

"You pick first. I'm fine with anything," Duang says.

 

We lock eyes for a moment before I tell the tattoo artist I'll take the left design. I catch a small smile forming on Duang's face.

 

"Who's going first? Hop on the chair, lean against the wall, and rest your foot here. I'll go prep the needle and ink," the tattoo artist says before stepping out of the customer area. As soon as he leaves, Duang's face falls. His warm hand shakes mine repeatedly as he starts whining again.

 

"Babeeee, I think I'm gonna faint."

 

"It probably won't hurt much. Like falling off a bike."

 

"Falling off a bike does hurt!"

 

"I read somewhere that tattooing the ankle doesn't hurt much."

 

"Really?"

 

"Yeah. Did you even research this at all?"

 

"Sorryyyy."

 

"Want me to go first if you're that scared?"

 

"No way. I want to try first. If it hurts too much, you won't have to get one." With that, he sits on the tattoo chair. I sit down next to him, holding out my hand before looking at him. When the tattoo artist returns with the equipment, Duang's ears droop like a puppy's.

 

"Hand."

 

"Huh? What?"

 

"Do you want to hold it?"

 

I'm a straightforward person. And I know that about myself. Not that I'm hard to make smile, but I'm not overly easy either.

 

"Babe."

 

I have my own world that I don't let people into easily. But does he know... he's already in it?

 

It's like when I open the blinds in my room, letting the warm sunlight pour in, and realise my eyes are actually dark brown, my skin is pale enough to show veins, and this world has him out there.

"Thank you."

 

He's like another sun. Like that tattoo that seems like I've left it for him, but really-

I chose the moon because it doesn't suit him.

 

"You're welcome."

 

He's the sun. To me... he's the sun.

 

 ════[changbins_delulu_wife]════

 

"For fuck's sake, it's like getting my leg sliced with a knife," says Duang.

 

"Really, Mr Quinn?!" Jettana asks, wide-eyed, as he watches the pale-skinned guy quietly eating his pork porridge with salted egg.

 

"Not really."

 

"You're just weak, Duang."

 

Duang kicks his friend under the table. People say everyone's pain tolerance is different, but even so, when the artist goes over the same spot again, Quinn can't help but squeeze Duang's hand.

 

Cute, isn't he?

 

"What are you smiling about?"

 

"Nothing, babe."

 

Everything he does is just so cute.

 

"You're so annoying, always saying 'babe.' Such a flirt."

 

"I only talk like that with Quinn, okay? Give me a break."

 

"Not even with your exes?"

 

"Never had one!"

 

"Lying will send you straight to hell, Duang," Jettana says, focusing on his porridge, unaware of the emotional weight he's just dropped on someone. Duang swallows hard, forcing a sheepish smile at the pale-skinned guy staring at him intently.

 

See?

He's like a cat, always staring.

 

"I really haven't had a boyfriend. I told you before."

 

"Oh?"

 

"Really, really."

 

"You're so smooth."

 

"Don't trust him too much, Mr Quinn. What if he drops you off at your dorm and sneaks off to someone else's room?"

 

You fucking asshole! Duang raises his hand, ready to smack his mischievous friend sitting next to him. Always stirring things up. Just wait until it's your turn, Jet. I'll get you back good.

 

"Hitting Jettana means you're guilty."

 

"You're defending him?"

 

"Blah, blah, blah."

 

"Just eat. We've got class early tomorrow."

 

"You've got class at 10:30, don't you, babe?"

 

"And you've got class at 8:30."

 

"You remember my schedule?"

 

Duang looks genuinely surprised. He never thought Quinn would remember something like that. To say it's one-sided love wouldn't be an exaggeration because, honestly, it is. This whole 'getting to know each other' phase is so unpredictable. He's trying. But sometimes, it still feels inadequate... he wants to give him more.

 

"I do."

 

And sometimes...

It feels like Quinn can read his mind.

 

"If you can remember my schedule, I can remember yours."

 

"..

In the end, he realises this isn't a race to a finish line where the other person is the prize. It's not that. It's a journey, a process of going through things together. Starting, setting off, maybe falling, maybe getting back up. But all of it-

 

"I want to give as much as I've received from you."

 

They do it together.

 

 ════[changbins_delulu_wife]════

 

Love and hate. Yeah, he and jazz music. At first, he intends to major in musical performance, but he ultimately chooses jazz studies. And having to drag himself out of bed to study jazz theory in this heat just makes him more irritable.

 

"Quinn."

 

"What?"

 

"Have you seen this? You're Mr Lovebug."

 

"Jesus, what kind of name is that?"

 

"Well, he's always clinging to Quinn. And he always brushes him off. He flirts, you swat him away. He teases, you swat him away."

 

The pale hand takes the phone from his friend, revealing a Facebook album that the university has just posted minutes ago.

 

‘I can't pick you up today. I'm helping a friend with a shoot.'

 

Must be this. Quinn thinks to himself as he scrolls through the photos one by one.

 

"Wow, look at that smile and eye contact."

 

"He's just following the brief. Why are you stirring things up?"

 

"Quinn doesn't care anyway. Whatever."

"I do care."

 

Quinn's response makes his friend stop laughing. Honestly, he doesn't understand why people keep saying he doesn't care about Duang. He does. He cares about him more than anyone else. Of course, he does. It's been half a year with Duang by his side. He's not that heartless.

 

"But it's work."

 

"Don't tell me you're actually jealous. Damn, my friend."

 

"I'm human." Quinn, dressed in a uniform that defied all dress codes because he was too lazy to grab a belt or proper shoes, rolls his eyes. Just because he only says what's necessary and expresses himself as much as he can doesn't mean he's heartless or cold. In the end, matters of the heart take time, and he wants to spend more time with Duang.

 

Step by step... slowly progressing.

 

"If Duang knew, he'd be so happy."

 

"Whatever."

 

"But it's nice, you know? No matter what, he still likes you. He never backs down."

 

Quinn looks at the projector at the front of the room. The professor points out old musical instruments he's seen before while studying for university entrance exams. How should he put it? He's met Duang before because their tutoring centres are nearby. But back then, Duang didn't notice him, and he didn't think much of it either. He remembers because they're the same height. Well dressed. Kind.

 

"It's not like I don't like him."

 

And he always walked female friends to the train station after late classes, even though he took the bus home himself. That's what he remembers about Duang because he did it again and again. That kind of kindness. The kind he wants to spend time with and see if it lasts.

 

"I like him too."

 

 ════[changbins_delulu_wife]════

 

"Babeee, I'm sorry."

 

"Yeah, it's fine."

 

"I didn't forget, okay?"

 

"I know. You've been messaging me every ten minutes." I hold up my phone to his face. He's run up to me in the faculty building, sweating. He's panting, hands on his thighs. I reach out to pat his head a couple of times before scolding him.

 

"You're drenched."

 

"I've been running around everywhere. People keep asking me for help."

 

"Let's eat."

 

"But my friends are coming too. Is that okay?"

 

"Whatever."

 

He's the kind of person with lots of friends, unlike me. Friendly? Not exactly. Sometimes, he's so clueless it's like he doesn't know how to say no. Whatever people ask, he does. Whatever they need, he just smiles and agrees. As I said, he's kind, "Mr Quinn!"

 

And that kindness... It's scary.

 

"What?"

 

"You look so handsome today, rolling up your sleeves like that."

 

"Get out of my car," says Duang.

I give a faint smile to Jettana, who rolls down the back window to greet me. Over time, Duang's close friends have become my friends, too. I reach for the front door, but Jettana shakes his head frantically.

 

"Hey, my other friend is here. You probably haven't met her yet. Her name's Yim."

 

"Hi, Quinn, right?"

 

I close the door and settle into the back seat next to Jettana, nodding before greeting her back. It's then that I notice someone watching me through the rearview mirror.

 

It might be the first time I sit here and feel a lump quietly forming in my chest. I pause, trying to evaluate my own feelings. The woman sitting next to him is the same one who had a photo shoot with him earlier today to promote the university shirts. I notice her hand resting on Duang's thigh as he drives, while she talks about her favourite movie.

 

I turn my face away, shifting my gaze to the roadside, letting our playlist play softly in the car. I realise that on this journey we're embarking on, we don't truly own anything.

 

At this moment, I know I can't stop myself from liking him. I can't stop him from liking or disliking anyone. And I can't stop others from liking Duang either.

 

"Duang, have you ever watched A Star is Born?"

 

"I didn't catch it in theatres."

 

"Oh."

 

"Actually, I did watch it. When it came out on DVD. With Quinn. Quinn studies music, and he likes it, so I borrowed it to watch. But then, well, I ended up watching it with him, right, babe?"

 

But today, I learn something else...That I don't need to worry about a relationship that involves him.

 

"Huh? Duang, do you use 'babe' when talking to friends?"

 

"Oh, no, not friends."

Because he'll always be there...

Not too close, not too far from me...

 

"Quinn is the one I'm seeing."

 

And keep reminding me that this is the one thing I don't need to doubt.

 

"Oh, I didn't know that."

 

"Haha, yeah, I was the one who went after him."

 

This is the one thing I don't need to question. Because the answer is always clear.

 

"Babe, is the air conditioning reaching you?"

 

"Yeah."

 

"Okay, let's eat at the place you like."

 

"Honestly, I'm fine with anywhere. You guys decide."

 

We exchange glances again through the same rearview mirror. He smiles when he sees my mood has improved, and it doesn't surprise me that he can read me so well...Because he's always been attentive to me.

 

"I want Hainanese chicken rice."

 

"I'm in! Let's go to Tum Thong."

 

"Hainanese chicken rice it is, then. No changing your mind now."

 

I agree. Like I say, I can eat anything. It's he who spoils me so much that I've become used to it. Before I know it, the car is parked just a little past the restaurant. We have to cross a busy road to get to the famous chicken rice spot.

 

"I missed you."

 

The words come with the warm scent of pine-like cologne. I associate different scents with different people, probably because I've been familiar with perfumes since I was a kid due to my family's business. But the cologne he uses, mixed with his natural scent, always reminds me of a pine forest.

Our shoulders brush against each other because we're so close. I turn to look at him, and he gives me a wide smile, his eyes crinkling.

 

"What do you expect me to say to that?"

 

"Say something that'll make me happy," he replies while looking left and right, waiting for the right moment to cross the road. I step forward slowly when the road is completely clear, not forgetting to guide the woman who comes with us today across as well.

 

"I missed you, too."

 

"Is that good enough for you?"

 

"I heard that! Why are you two so cute?"

 

She teases us with a smile that seems a little bittersweet. That's how I interpret it. She softly thanks me for helping her cross the road, then follows Jettana to order chicken rice. Seeing that, I walk past the table to grab glasses and scoop some ice.

 

"Quinn, I almost died from that."

 

"Then why didn't you?"

 

"Because I still want to live to hear you say cute things like that."

 

"Cheesy." I frown, wondering where he even comes up with lines like these.

 

"I thought you'd be mad that I had her sit in the front."

 

"I'm not that petty."

 

"I'm worried because I care."

 

"I know. I care, too."

 

"Why are you so cute today? Are you trying to make me lose my mind?" He snatches the glass of water from my hand, mumbling complaints.

 

I feel the distance between us shrink as he deliberately stands right behind me. When he sees I don't scold him for resting his chin on my shoulder, he just stays like that. He presses his nose against my wrinkled shirt and murmurs dreamily,

 

"Quinn, you smell so good."

 

I turn to look at the side of his face, which is so close. He doesn't pull away, even though our noses are almost touching.

 

"The photo you took with Yim was cute."

 

"See?"

 

"What?"

 

"You sound like a jealous person. It's in your tone."

 

"What tone? Get your face away. You've used up your quota for today." I jab my elbow into his stomach hard, holding two glasses of ice while squinting at him as he still tries to lean closer.

 

'Auntie! Someone's flirting in the restaurant!"

 

And today is another good day. A good day because he's still by my side.

 

"Jettana! You little jerk!"

That's all I need.