Duang With You

"How close is 'near the heart,' anyway?"

 

"What the fuck are you even talking about?" Jet snaps.

 

I sigh and wave my hand dismissively, signalling him to drop it. Useless, as always. The only thing he's good at is drawing. Yeah, same here.

 

“What's wrong with you now, man?"

 

"Have you ever listened to the song Can Be Everything for You, Even Though! Can't Be as Great as You Want Me to Be'?"

 

"Damn, that's one hell of a title." Both Pae and Jet shake their heads vigorously. I haven't listened to it either, but last night Quinn played it in the room while we worked in our own corners. I sat there shirtless, painting, while he had his headphones on, tinkering away on his computer, refusing to eat anything. Then he took off his headphones.

 

"Duang."

 

"Yes?"

 

"Listen."

 

And then that ridiculously long-titled song, longer than some novel titles I'd seen in bookstores, started playing. And it just kept playing in my head. My first thought was, did he want me to listen because it was a good song, or was there some hidden meaning behind it? But yeah, guessing Quinn's intentions is harder than guessing anyone else's in the world.

 

"What were the lyrics?"

 

"I remember one part. It goes, 'I'm just a friend to you. No matter how kind I am to you, the closest I can be is near your heart."(

 

"Friend zone, eh?"

 

"Ouch."

 

"Exactly."

 

"Who made you listen to that? Why's it so damn sad? Look at this-'No matter how kind I am to you, the closest I can be is near your heart' damn, getting kicked in the face would hurt less than that line. Seriously."

 

"Jet's got a point."

 

I sigh even deeper. Am I overthinking this? No wonder Quinn always says I act like a girl. Honestly, I don't overthink anything else. It's just when it comes to him, I can't help it.

 

"So, who makes you listen to the song?"

 

"Quinn."

 

"Oh, that's tough. Maybe he wants you to hear it because it's a good song?" Jet says, munching on snacks as usual. His mouth is never empty. He eats so much I feel like signing him up for a food-eating contest with that girl Pae always watches on YouTube during his free time.

 

"There's no point in overthinking it. Just ask him directly."

 

"Yeah, like I'm that brave," I snap.

 

"You already asked him out, didn't you?"

 

“That was a year ago, and they're not progressing anywhere."

 

"You idiot, it's only been half a year!" I argue passionately.

 

As distance tests a horse's strength, so does time reveal a person's real character, you know?! Even if it takes until I'm sixty, if the end goal is the same, I'll wait.

 

"Oh, by the way, where are you supposed to be at 6:15? You're already five minutes late."

 

"Oh, crap."

 

"Bet he's picking up Mr Quinn."

 

"Top service."

 

"With all the effort you put into him, now, you're his chauffeur."

 

"Fuck you!" I lift my leg at the two of them before rushing to my car. I know Quinn is super punctual, always early. And here I am, about to pick him up late. I sigh.

 

Honestly, I've been out of it since last night after the song ended. He went to bed before me because I was still working on my assignment. By the time I finally crawled under the blanket, it was almost 3 AM. He stirred, half-awake, and patted my head a couple of times before going back to sleep. When I woke up, he was already gone for class. We exchanged a few texts-just enough to confirm I'd pick him up for dinner. A day with him is simple... like we're just friends. Yeah, friends. Like the song says.

 

"Babe, sorry I'm late."

 

"It's fine." He shakes his head, stubbing out his cigarette on the ground before picking up the butt and tossing it into a trash can. The last rays of sunlight cast a warm glow on his clean, pale skin. I smile faintly at the sight of him in the shoes he doesn't wear properly, a wrinkled shirt, and carrying just one blue pen to class.

So damn cute.

 

"Did you wait long?"

 

"My friends just left. I finished a cigarette, and then you showed up."

 

"How many today?"

 

"Three." He counts on his fingers as we walk side by side to the car. I reach out to brush the hair from his face, telling him softly that it'll make his eyes red. He mutters a quick thanks before stepping closer, his nose brushing against my arm.

 

"That's my cologne."

 

"Heh."

 

"Thief."

 

"I use just a little!"

 

"We smell the same now." He murmurs like a child, sniffing himself. I take the chance to lean in and press my nose to his shoulder. It's the cologne, mixed with a faint scent of cigarettes.

 

"Hey now."

 

"Just a little. I missed you. You didn't even tell me you were going to class."

 

"You were sleeping like the dead." Quinn rolls his eyes.

 

"Really?"

 

"Yeah. I pinched you, and you didn't even flinch."

 

I widen my eyes and stop walking, my voice rising. I'm asleep.

 

"What? Where did you pinch me?"

 

"Your cheek." He says it so nonchalantly, but my heart pounds. If this is a romance movie, I'm the shy girl in love with the aloof senior who secretly pinches my cheek, while what the hell.

 

"Why?"

 

"You, of all people, touched my cheek?"

 

"Pinched. I pinched."

 

"Same thing."

 

"This is pinching." He demonstrates, and I wince. But it doesn't end there. I nearly stop breathing when he softly says, with his cold fingers brushing my cheek, "This is touching."

 

Can I scream?

He's so damn adorable.

 

"You're such a rookie."

 

"Back at you. You're the one running away." I tease him, grinning as he keeps rubbing my cheek. When our eyes meet, he curses at me and walks ahead—got all embarrassed, eh?

 

"Hey, wait up, my dear Situationship!"

 

"You're so loud."

 

"My dear Situationshippp!"

 

"Do you wanna die?" Quinn snaps, but in my eyes, he looks like a puffed-up cat trying to act tough.

 

I shrug, open the driver's side door, and get in. He exhales softly as the cool air hits him. He's always hot, even though his body is naturally cold. I glance at him as he connects his phone to the Bluetooth speaker and plays a song. Soon, the familiar tune from last night fills the car. He's playing the same song again. Seriously?

 

"Don't like it?"

 

"No, it's fine."

 

"You're fidgeting."

 

"No, it's just... you've played this song twice now."

 

"And?"

 

"It makes me think."

 

"Think what? Are you a game I have to figure out?"

 

"Oh, come on. I have to figure you out all the time, too."

 

"Ask, and I'll answer... Stop overthinking."

 

I shrink back at his scolding. At a red light, I glance at him and find him looking back at me. It's like he's waiting for my question, his eyes promising he'll answer truthfully. Every question I'm about to ask.

 

'The song's about the friend zone."

 

"You've never been just my friend."

 

"Alright then."

 

"I've told you a hundred times, you're the one I'm seeing."

 

"Don't even. I'm counting, you know. You've barely said it. Once, maybe."

 

"I told other people."

"..."

 

"What? I've never hidden it. If they ask, I tell them. You're practically glued to me."

 

My face heats up, and I reach to turn up the air conditioning. I hear him chuckle softly, like he's mocking my low tolerance. Yeah, when it comes to him, my heart is always racing.

 

"I play it because it's a good song. It's not mainstream, but the lyrics are great, and the melody's solid."

 

"And here I am, overthinking."

 

"Which part hits you so hard?"

 

"This one: 'I'm just a friend for you. No matter how kind I am to you, the closest I can be is near your heart."

 

"Hmm, not bad."

 

"Don't you start analysing it as a music student. This is about the relatedness! I'm the one making an effort, like the water dripping on the stone. You wouldn't understand." I place a hand on his head, ruffling his hair playfully. He shakes me off lightly, punching my shoulder and telling me to focus on driving.

 

"Drop that stupid, constant dripping wears away the stone joke already."

 

"Well, has the stone worn now, though? Answer that first."

 

"The stone is hungry. Drive faster."

 

"Whoa, you actually played along!"

 

"Idiot."

 

I laugh softly. It feels like we're sitting closer, even though we're still in the same seats. Everything feels special when it's about him. Even the ordinary becomes extraordinary.

 

"But honestly, there's a line in this song that matches our relationship perfectly."

 

I say, watching the sun dip below the horizon. I don't even know if Quinn is looking at me... but in the next moment,

 

"I can be everything for you, even though I can't be as great as you want me to be."

 

He places his hand on my lap, as if to say, "It's okay if you don't love me."

He's still here. At the very least, he lets me love him.

 

 ════[changbins_delulu_wife]════

 

Duang stretches, stripping down to just his boxers. He tosses his jeans over a chair, glancing around his messy room. It makes him think of Quinn's room, where he's been crashing so often lately that he feels like he should make merit to balance out his karma. After all, he's probably used up all his good karma just being allowed to sleep there.

 

He's secretly grateful his brother bought a place far from the university. It gives him an excuse to stay at Quinn's more often. Even though Jettana's dorm is closer, he wouldn't set foot there. Such fair skin is what I think about every single day. That guy is so careless.

 

"Damn it, speak of the devil," the tall guy mutters to himself, annoyed. He's just been thinking about his older brother, and now here he is, calling. What now? What's he going to nag about this time?

 

"Hello? What's up?"

 

[Come home once in a while. Mama's going to die missing you, Duang.]

"Come on, I have class."

 

[Not busy chasing after some girl, huh?]

 

"Pftt." Duang gulps down some cold water before grabbing a spray bottle to refill it at the sink. He hasn't watered the plants in his room for ages. Are they even still alive?

 

[My sources tell me you're in a situationship. Who is it? Spill it.]

"It's not a girl."

 

[l'm asking seriously now.]

"A guy's fine too, it doesn't matter."

 

[Must be someone cute, huh? You're head over heels, aren't you?]

 

"Honestly, he's even more handsome than me." Duang chuckles softly to himself. Yeah, it's true. He's more handsome, fairer-skinned, has a better build, and a better personality. And that smile? Deadly. Man, I miss him already.

 

[You're probably the bottom by now, huh?]

"Nah, I don't think so."

 

[Don't embarrass the family name, dude.]

"I don't know... If he's not into that, I'd be fine with it."

 

[l want to die. Not because of anything else, but because you probably love him more than you love Mom and Dad now, you little punk.]

 

"You're exaggerating, P'Nan."

 

[Listen, just focus on actually getting with him first. Don't go beyond that just yet.]

 

"You're underestimating me, Funan."

 

And here's the thing. Everyone might wonder why Duang's brother's name is Nan. Well, it's like this: their dad is an archaeologist, and their mom is, too. They've been obsessed with ancient coins for as long as they can remember. When they had kids, they went all in. The first one is Funan, and the second one is Photduang.

 

[Alright, nothing else. Just wanted to tell you to come home once in a while.]

"Okay, okay. I'll come by."

 

[Bring your "almost boyfriend' over for Mom's cooking. No need to be formal.]

 

"Need to be for this one. He's quite serious with everything."

 

[Just try inviting him first, big talker.]

"I got it from you, P'Nan."

 

[Fuck you.]

The younger brother laughs softly. After a few more words, they hang up. Shirtless, Duang waters the plants around his room, taking a deep breath before starting to clean up. He's gotten used to Quinn's ridiculously clean room.

 

Books and sketch papers are neatly arranged on the shelves, while dried paintbrushes are gathered into a basin. Duang turns on the water and carefully washes each one. He sighs when he realises that no matter how much he cleans the room, it feels like it barely gets cleaner. Still, he keeps at it until it's almost 10 PM.

 

"Ugh."

The tall guy sighs, collapsing against his bed with a long groan. Who said cleaning clears your mind? The more he cleans, the more stressed he feels. There's so much stuff, and he's only been here for less than a year. Maybe he should tell his brother to come pick up some of his stuff.

 

His sharp eyes land on a guitar he finds in the room. It's probably Funan's, since he's been using it to flirt with girls since high school. As for Duang, he can't play at all. As he said, the only thing he's good at is drawing. Oh, and one other thing.

 

"Damn."

Flirting with Quinn.

[Come down.]

"Huh?"

 

Duang curses under his breath. It's rare for Quinn to call him out of the blue. Seriously, there are still people like this in this world: someone who's not into social media, who has an Instagram but posts once every three months, and who leaves people on read for days, sometimes even months. But today, that kind of person is calling him.

 

"Come down where?"

[They won't let me in. Said I need a keycard.]

 

Wait a minute.

Hold on.

 

"You're at my dorm?"

[Yeah.]

 

"Whoa, are you okay? I'll come down. Stand somewhere well-lit." The tall guy grabs a random T-shirt from his closet, frantically searching for his keys. The noise must be obvious, Quinn says calmly. [l'm fine. No need to rush.]

 

"Of course I'm rushing, babe. You've never come here before. Hold on, don't hang up. I'm in the elevator now." Duang bites his lip as he realises how slow the elevator is. By the time he reaches the door, he's half-walking, half-running to swipe his card. There Quinn stands, holding two bags of Hainanese chicken rice and soup.

 

"Eat."

 

"How did you get here, Quinn? It's far."

 

"Jettana dropped me off."

 

"How'd you run into him?"

 

"I went to buy chicken rice and saw him, so I asked where your dorm is."

 

"'And then?" Duang takes the chance while Quinn is distracted to grab the chicken rice bags. Up close, he notices Quinn has showered and is already in his pyjamas. Don't tell me...

 

"Jettana said it's far. If he let me go alone, you'd be mad."

 

"So you came to my dorm to eat chicken rice?"

 

"No, I came to sleep here."

 

Holy crap, Duang.

You're so damn lucky.

"You're trying to kill me with your cuteness, aren't you?" He mutters softly, guiding Quinn into the elevator and pressing the button for the tenth floor. Duang notices Quinn looking around before murmuring,

 

"This isn't a dorm. It's a condo. Only four rooms per floor, even."

 

"Sure, whatever you say."

 

"Which one's yours?"

 

"Zero-two."

 

"Bet it's a mess."

 

"No way. I just cleaned up. It's weird, though. Maybe I knew you were coming." 

 

The room's owner grins as he pushes the door open. The hot chicken rice bags are placed on the table in the middle of the room. Quinn notices everything is organised into zones, typical of a studio apartment. Duang stands there, smiling dreamily at him.

 

"What?"

 

"Did you come because you missed me?"

 

"Not answering means yes."

 

And Quinn doesn't answer.

Because, well, it's true.

 

"It feels strange."

 

"What is?"

 

"The room without you."

 

Duang feels like collapsing right there on the floor, crying because he can't even begin to describe how amazing it feels when Quinn, with his usual deadpan expression, says something so unintentionally special.

 

"You're addicted to me."

"Nonsense."

 

"Come eat. You must get hungry every night."

 

"Well, the food is good."

 

"Want something other than water? I've got juice. Should still be good." Duang leans on the fridge door, while Quinn peers past him and spots some beer.

 

"Beer."

 

"If you get drunk, I'll take advantage of you."

 

"Me? Drunk?"

 

"Hey, a guy can hope. Hope keeps us alive."

 

"Just eat already."

 

"You first."

 

"No."

 

There it is, the stubborn face. He won't eat unless they eat together. Duang sits across from Quinn, who's already holding his fork and spoon, ready to dig into his chicken rice. Quinn's order is no skin, extra liver, no cucumber. 

 

When Duang sees him sipping the soup, he starts eating too, pouring sauce over his rice one bite at a time. Duang isn't even hungry. He's just eating so as not to hurt Quinn's feelings. Anything for Quinn, he always wants to give his best.

 

"Is it good, babe?"

 

"Yeah."

 

"Want more chicken?"

 

"Sure."

 

"Lil' piggy."

 

"Piggy motherfucker."

 

"Just kidding, geez!" He's not fat, just has a bit of a cheek. And no one can tease him about it, or they'll get punched. Duang watches Quinn inhale the food, even though they just saw each other at 4 PM, and he's already taken him out for Vietnamese noodles. He really can eat.

 

"Stop looking at me like that."

 

"Like what?"

 

"Like you're fond of me."

 

"Oh, so you know this look means I'm fond of you. That means you're secretly fond of me, too."

 

"Shut up." Quinn shoves a spoonful of rice into the mouth of the overly cheerful person sitting across from him. And the fact Quinn dragged himself all the way here was... utterly ridiculous.

 

"Hey, I found a guitar."

 

"I saw it. Good stuff."

 

"I had no idea. It was Funan's."

 

"Your brother, right?" Quinn asks.

 

"You remember?"

 

"Both your names are weird."

 

"And yours isn't?" Duang wrinkles his nose.

 

"What's weird about it? It's just Quinn."

 

"Never heard it before."

 

"Actually, it has two meanings. Quinn can mean 'to criticise', or it can mean 'beautiful.'"

 

Duang loves learning new things about Quinn. Even if it's just a simple conversation over chicken rice at 10 PM, he loves it. He loves how Quinn slowly starts sharing bits about himself, since he's usually the one listening.

 

"It can mean bad or good. Mom said it's normal; everyone has good and bad sides. That's why I'm named Quinn."

 

"That's special."

 

"You're biased."

 

"Of course. I like you." Duang grins widely, scooping his chicken onto Quinn's plate as if to prove it. Duang likes him so much that he's giving him all his chicken. Eating with Quinn doesn't even need side dishes. But he doesn't say that out loud. If he did, he'd get smacked.

 

"Honestly, I thought your name was Quinn because you're part Chinese."

 

"I used to think that, too."

 

"My little Chinese boy~"

 

"You're annoying."

 

"Wow, you finished everything. Not a grain of rice left."

 

Quinn wants to punch the guy who even teases him about how he eats. If he didn't know Duang was trying to flirt with him, Quinn'd think he was just here to mess around.

 

Quinn picks up his empty plate, along with Duang's, glaring as if to say he'll wash them himself. Duang can only watch the familiar back of someone who always looks adorable in his eyes, diligently washing the dishes.

 

"Babe."

 

"What?"

 

"I want to see you in this room every day."

 

"I mean it."

Just the thought of waking up in the morning to see Quinn's sleepy face, refusing to get out of bed, fills Duang's heart with joy. And when he imagines having breakfast together every day, his heart races uncontrollably. "Same here."

 

Duang locks eyes with Quinn, who has just finished washing the dishes. Quinn is doing something endearing-avoiding his gaze-because he's just admitted that he wants to see Duang in the room like this every day, too.

 

The tall guy gets up from his chair, pulls off his t-shirt, and tosses it into the laundry basket. Taking advantage of the moment whenQuinn is caught between cool demeanour and his cat-like awkwardness, Duang steps closer and presses his nose lightly against Quinn's shoulder, mummering

 

"I'm going to shower!"

"Okay."

Duang's broad back disappears from view, 

 

Quinn sinks into the couch in the middle of the room. He doses its eyes and exhales heavily, his heart pounding so hard he fears Duang might hear it. He knows that's impossible, but he doesn't want to seem flustered or awkward in front of someone who loves to tease him.

 

His slender hand rests on his chest, feeling his heart still racing from the warm touch on his shoulder. There's not much physical contact between them; holding hands is rare, and Duang hardly initiates anything because he knows Quinn intends to pull away. It's not intentional; he's just not used to being touched. But just now... Duang kissed his shoulder. Damn it.

 

"Shit," he mutters softly to himself, grabbing the neck of the guitar to inspect it. He doesn't want his thoughts to spiral. Otherwise, when Duang finishes showering, he'll definitely get teased about every little thing, and Quinn hates it.

 

Duang, who showers in a flash, emerges from the bathroom with damp hair and a towel in hand. He's already dressed, having changed in the bathroom. He's teased Quinn enough for one day and doesn't want to push him into making that annoyed, cat-like face any more than necessary, not out of fear, but out of sympathy.

 

It might be the first time Duang has seen Quinn play the guitar. Quinn studies jazz, so the work he brings home doesn't usually involve practising with instruments. Larger instruments are practised at the faculty. Duang knows Quinn has a good voice, actually, an amazing voice, since Quinn's major is in vocals. Yeah, vocals. How could it be anything ordinary?

 

I love those eyes so much... I love that smile, I love the days and nights.' Duang feels like he's being counterattacked. Quinn meets his gaze, singing that line casually from the couch as if it's no big deal. But there's no way it isn't a big deal. This is the most special person in Duang's world. Duang sinks into a chair farther away, wanting to watch Quinn from a distance, as he always has. It reminds him that he's lucky to have gotten this close at all.

 

"I love the moments when we meet, like a dream that fades, slipping away."

 

And that's when Duang realises this song is about him. It has to be.

From the way Quinn looks at him.

From the lyrics.

From the unspoken meaning that resonates in his heart.

 

"On a night filled with stars in the sky,

There's a pair of eyes shining like stars on the ground."

 

And then he smiles. The widest smile he's ever smiled as the final verse comes, accompanied by the soft strumming of the guitar.

 

Between them, this is a song for just the two of them. Duang is sure of it...

 

"I love those eyes so much."

Especially when Quinn smiles.