Duang With You

They say nothing makes your heart race quite like falling for a musician...Duang now knows just how true that is. His heart skips a beat when he sees Quinn slicking his hair back, standing outside the hall where the performance will take place, smoking a cigarette. It's almost six in the evening, and his talented Quinn is dressed so impeccably it's almost overwhelming.

 

Quinn, with his slim frame, wears a black satin shirt, unbuttoned three buttons down, revealing a necklace with a locket containing a family photo-that's such an unreal sight. His high-waisted black trousers with subtle detailing pair perfectly with a slim belt and leather shoes that Duang doesn't even know Quinn owns. He looks like he's stepped out of a Hollywood movie, and Duang feels like a fool, hopelessly in love with someone so effortlessly captivating.

 

"Oh, Duang's here. Alright, let's talk later. Meet me backstage at 5:45."

 

"Yeah, see you then." Quinn stubs out his second cigarette halfway, perhaps because Duang has arrived, and he doesn't want him to deal with the unpleasantness of cigarette smoke. Duang, still in his student uniform from class earlier, smiles brightly as he hands Quinn the iced Americano he's texted about wanting

 

"You okay? You look worried," Duang asks.

 

"You can tell?"

 

"Of course. 'Cause I care."

 

"You're always trying to score points," Quinn teases, lightly pushing Duang's forehead. He takes a sip of the coffee and, surprisingly, feels his nerves ease a bit, thanks to Duang's casual chatter.

 

"If you're worried no one will enjoy it, I'll send Jettana to the front row," Duang jokes.

 

"Please don't," Quinn replies with a chuckle. Duang laughs, too, wanting to hug him tightly to ease his stress.

 

"People will enjoy it, trust me. Your music is amazing, and so are you."

 

"Thanks."

 

"No prob, babe."

 

"Where will you be standing?" Quinn asks.

 

"You think you won't be able to find me? That's disappointing."

 

"It'll be dark."

 

"Just kidding. Probably in the back, left side. How about that? Let's make it a plan."

 

Quinn nods, watching as Duang takes the empty coffee cup to throw away, even though the trash can isn't far. It's such a small gesture, but it's so typical of Duang to do little things like this. Why is he like this? How did he grow up to be this way?

 

"You're adorable," Quinn says.

 

Adorable enough to warm my heart this much.

 

"Wait," says Duang.

 

"You're really, really adorable."

 

Duang feels like crying. What makes Quinn say something like this here and now? And not just say it-he even reaches out to ruffle Duang's hair. But before Duang can respond, Quinn says he has to go.

 

"See you in the hall. I'll look for you," Quinn says.

 

"You'll do well. You're the best. I'll be waiting to hear you sing," Duang replies.

 

And just like that, Duang's smile works its magic, soothing Quinn's heart like a spell. Quinn nods, and they hold hands briefly before letting go as it's almost time. Duang watches Quinn's back disappear into the hall through the side entrance reserved for jazz students, while he, as an audience member, has to enter through the main doors.

 

Duang sighs softly. When Quinn is stressed, he can't help but feel stressed, too. But he can't show it. If Quinn can handle it, then so can he. He'll carry Quinn through anything-he doesn't want him to be disappointed in anything, including himself.

 

"Cheewin, are you ready yet?"

 

"Yeah, yeah, I'm coming. You didn't have to come all the way here to get me."

 

"I thought I might see Mr Quinn," Pae says, scratching his head as he notices Duang standing by the door, holding the empty iced Americano cup. He figures they must've already met because Duang doesn't drink something like that unless he's working late into the night.

 

"How's he doing?" Pae asks.

 

"He's stressed, understandably. It's his first big performance, and it's tied to his grades, too," Duang replies.

 

"Did he sleep last night?"

 

"He did, but when he did, it was almost morning. Luckily, his friends scheduled practice for the afternoon today."

 

"You must've been comforting him all night."

 

Duang thinks for a moment before nodding. He isn't sure if 'comforting' is the right word, but he's held Quinn all night until his arms went numb-no, it feels like his arms have disappeared entirely. But he doesn't complain because it's so worth it. Holding someone you care about so much in your arms is worth everything.

 

"Oh, by the way, did you know the performance order is based on their semester singing grades?" Pae asks.

 

"I didn't know. Quinn didn't mention it, but it doesn't surprise me. He's obsessed with jazz."

 

"A friend of a friend went to high school with him. Apparently, he's always been this talented but just doesn't show off much."

 

"I've only heard him sing seriously once, not counting the times he hums in the car or when I accidentally overheard him practising before. Just once," Duang says with a small smile. That's why everyone is here today. Everyone wants to hear Quinn sing. He's someone special without even trying.

 

"Pae! Duang!"

"C'mon, Jet, we're here for a concert, not a movie. Why'd you bring popcorn?"

 

"Mind your own business," Jet snaps.

 

Pae raises his hand as if to smack Jet, who always has something to say. They can never have a normal conversation without bickering.

 

"Let's go. I wanna hear Mr Quinn sing already. A girl at the cafe said he looks so good tonight that she can go to heaven just by seeing him," Jet says.

 

"Did they really say that?" Duang asks, incredulous.

 

"Yeah, word for word. I sat there and listened to the whole thing."

 

"Well, it's normal. He's popular but doesn't mingle much or seek attention," Pae adds.

 

"If I were as handsome as he, I'd flaunt it in every faculty," Jet says dramatically. 

 

Earlier, while waiting for his iced chocolate, he overhears everyone talking about Quinn. It's no wonder Duang is so on edge, not because he's afraid Quinn will like someone else, but because he doesn't want anyone else liking Quinn. But that's impossible.

 

Jet notices Duang sighing as he walks into the hall, looking a bit down. "Duang, my dude, listen to me," Jet says.

 

"What now, you idiot?"

 

"You've already won against hundreds of people. He's doing this with only you."

"..."

 

"Seriously, even if hundreds of people like him, so what? Are they sleeping in Quinn's bed like you are?"

 

Duang feels his slumped shoulders lift a little, as if Jettana's words have reignited his confidence. He's right. Why am I worrying about such trivial things? Who else gets to see Quinn's softer, more vulnerable side as I do? This might be the greatest blessing of my life. I can graduate and die happy-l've already used up all my good karma. No joke.

 

"It's starting!"

 

"Ahhh! Quinn~~~"

 

"Jazz guys are insane."

 

"This setup is insane. The lighting is incredible!"

 

Duang raises his compact camera to capture the atmosphere, thinking Quinn might want to see it later. He looks toward the stage, a bit far, but confident Quinn will spot him because they've agreed on the left side. The bassist is the first to take the stage, warming up and testing the strings. The girls scream so loudly that it's deafening. The chatter fills the room and will continue until the singer appears.

 

"Damn, everyone's here for this."

 

"It's a big deal."

 

"Even the saxophonist is here. I didn't expect that!" Jettana claps enthusiastically, impressed by the scale of the performance. It's so grand he feels like carving " love this" into the floor with his own blood. As a concert enthusiast, Jettana is thrilled. But his excitement is short-lived as he has to compete with the girls next to him in screaming when Quinn finally steps onto the stage, looking unbelievably cool.

 

"I want to marry you!"

 

"You idiot," Duang mutters, locking Jettana in a headlock and covering his mouth tightly. He feels a pang of jealousy. Standing in the back, he can tell everyone likes Quinn.

 

"He's like an angel."

 

"Seriously. My friends and I can guarantee he's the best."

 

"Oh my god, it's starting."

 

Duang stands there with cold hands, even though his body temperature is usually warm. He wonders how Quinn feels up there. From where he stands, he's so nervous he can't stay still. But when Quinn's familiar voice comes through the speakers, greeting the audience, Duang's heart races wildly. And he's sure many others feel the same.

 

"Hello, guys," Quinn says, introducing the event and thanking everyone for coming. Duang thinks Quinn chooses his words well and manages his time perfectly before starting the performance. It surprises him because Quinn isn't usually much of a talker. It must've been because this is an important event. But Duang loves seeing this new side of Quinn. And the more he sees, the more he falls for every single part of him.

 

"The vibe of this music is incredible," Jettana murmurs.

 

"Right? And he's only a freshman. This is giving me chills."

 

As the saxophone and piano play a smooth, swaying melody, Quinn's voice comes through the high-quality speakers. Duang smiles widely, his heart overflowing.

 

"Oh my god, my heart!"

 

"This is amazing!"

 

"It feels like a dream," people around him say. Even though their voices aren't loud, Duang can hear them. Duang thinks the same thing. Quinn is like a dream, especially now, singing right in front of him. His heart is completely captivated. Quinn's charm is endless, and his stage presence is mesmerising.

 

And that expression he makes while singing the line, 'Oh, cherie amour, pretty little one that I adore. You're the only girl my heart beats for. How I wish that you were mine.' Who taught him to do that?

 

"You've gone quiet."

 

"I can't stop looking at him," Duang admits.

 

"You're even more smitten now, Mr Hopeless Romantic," Jettana says, shaking his head in mock exasperation. He glances at Duang, who answers his question but can't take his eyes off the stage.

 

Duang even picks up his camera to snap a few shots of the person singing up there. Jettana figures it won't be long before Duang pushes his way to the front to get better pictures of the one who seems to hold his entire world. Yeah, his entire world. The way Duang looks at Mr Quinn, it's like he'd willingly die for him at this point.

 

"Listen to that high note," Jettana says.

 

"I'm losing my mind," Duang mutters, running a hand over his face.

 

It's so true. What can make your heart race like falling for a musician? And this isn't just any musician-this is the singer. When he gets into the music, swaying slightly, playing with his voice and expressions, it's nothing like his usual self. This version of Quinn is lethal. There's no way out now.

 

"Wow, this song is incredible."

 

"It really suits Mr Quinn's voice."

 

"Guys, I'm about to collapse. Seriously," Duang says.

 

"Hold it together. It's not your time to die yet."

 

"You can't die, Duang. Not until he's yours."

 

Duang wants to lie down and cry when Quinn spots him in the crowd. The song isn't even suggestive, but the music and Quinn's expressions on stage are so intense. Duang moves from his spot to the front, weaving through the crowd to take pictures of Quinn as he sings and dances slightly in a way that makes Duang want to grab and hug him. What is he even doing?

 

And now Quinn is looking at him-so much so that others start noticing and looking at Duang too. His face burns, and he silently thanks the jazz students for keeping the hall dimly lit. Otherwise, everyone would see just how red his ears are. How can someone be so sexy while fully clothed?

 

"How could I think to myself that you're the only one for me?"

 

Duang watches Quinn through his camera lens. The purple stage lights make him look even more dreamlike. A small smile appears on Quinn's face as he notices how much the audience is enjoying his performance. Then, as the double bass and keyboard play softly in the background, Quinn sings playfully and points directly at Duang, as if it's part of the song.

 

It's just the natural movement of someone carried away by the music, but Duang knows it's not like that. Not in the way others might think. There's a deeper meaning, something only the two of them understand.

 

"You're my cup of tea."

Just the two of them.

 

I bought food and waited for him in his room because he had to come back to change after packing up the instruments after the performance. He's going out for drinks with his classmates afterwards. I want to go, not to drink, just to be there, but it's a friend's day. I don't want to overstep. Being a good boy and waiting for him in his room seems like the better option.

 

"Duang," he calls out.

 

"Oh, you're back earlier than I thought," I say, turning to smile at him as he walks into the room, unbuttoning his shirt and tossing it aside. My breath hitches at the sight of his beautiful collarbones and the locket resting against his pale chest. He raises an eyebrow, looking at me curiously before heading to the fridge to grab a bottle of water.

 

"Are you in a hurry? If you are, eat first and shower later," I suggest.

 

"I'm in a bit of a rush, but not too much," he replies.

 

"Hey, are you trolling me?"

 

"I can be late. I want to spend time with you first," he says.

 

Maybe it's my dirty mind, but I swallow hard as he slowly unbuckles his sleek belt, rolls it up, and places it in an Hermès box. His hair has grown long enough to tuck behind his ears. Neither of us has plans to cut it, but his hair is much longer than mine now.

 

I plate his favourite food from his go-to restaurant, sneaking glances at him as he moves around the room, looking hot and flustered while searching for the air conditioner remote and replying to messages on his phone. I can't help but smile at his irritated demeanour.

 

"What are you laughing at?" He asks.

 

"You're like a kid. Sit down now, and calm down."

 

"It's hot," he grumbles.

 

"What do you want me to do? Wait for the AC to cool the place down," I say, finishing up with the food. I grab the thinnest jazz book he owns and stand there fanning him. He sits down with a pout, motioning for me to sit beside him. I do, still fanning him. I tell you-l'd be anything for him. Anything I possibly can.

 

"Feeling less stressed now? Just annoyed because of the heat?" I ask.

 

"Why do they make me wear black? It's so damn hot," he complains.

 

"You're like a different person on stage, so flirty with your expressions. I'm clenching my fists the whole time."

 

"You're exaggerating," he says.

 

I sit up straight as he rests his head on my chest. His bare skin presses directly against mine for the first time. I bite my lip, take a deep breath, and stop fanning when the AC finally cools the room.

 

"You were amazing today. Really, babe," I say.

 

"Thank you."

 

"Everyone is praising you. I'm so proud but also jealous. Still, I want people to respect how talented you are," I say.

 

"Since when are you so reasonable?" He asks.

 

"Since I fell in love with you, maybe."

 

I hold my breath, realising I've said it out loud. I freeze and panic, wondering what to do. I decide to pull out the roll of film I've shot earlier and place it in his hand.

 

"For you, babe," I say.

 

"A roll of film?"

 

"Yeah. I took pictures of you and the atmosphere. But mostly of you."

 

"Didn't you say you weren't going to take any?"

 

"I lied."

 

"You're such a pain," he says, but he smiles. I smile back and kiss the top of his head. He looks up at me with a mock glare, even though he's still leaning against my chest. And in that angle, with that lighting...

 

"Thank you," he says.

 

"For everything."

 

And it's me who musters the courage to kiss him first. I know that once there's a first time, there will inevitably be a second. But I didn't think I'd be the one to start it. I smile into the kiss when I realise he's letting me, even kissing me back.

 

The sound of our lips meeting fills the room. My hands roam over his skin-it's smooth, soft, and smells amazing. I press my nose to the crook of his neck, kissing his chin reverently before capturing his lips again. Quinn starts to get playful, biting my lip teasingly. I'm not sure if he's teasing me or if he just can't resist. But I have him pinned beneath me now.

 

"Take it easy," he says.

 

"You're the one...unzipping my pants," I counter.

 

"I'm not! I'm holding you back," he argues, but that's not true. I can feel the zipper of my jeans being pulled down, the buttons undone with practised ease, and that mischievous smile of his. He's so sexy.

 

"Don't do this," I say.

 

"I'm helping," he replies.

 

"Babe....

 

"Be patient."

 

"Can I help you, too?" I ask.

We're both guys, of course, I know. He pauses for a moment before nodding. I run my hand along his waist, slim and inviting, making me want to leave marks all over it. But I hold back.

 

"How late can you be?" I ask after breaking the kiss and kissing the corner of his mouth. His half-lidded eyes look more angelic than ever. I feel satisfied knowing no one else can see him like this, bare-chested and about to lose his pants. He's mine to tease and torment.

 

Quinn wraps his arms around my neck, pulling me down for a soft kiss before saying,

 

"As late as I want."

And tease him I do.

 

 ════[changbins_delulu_wife]════

 

"Not leaving yet? If you're in a rush, just eat first. I'm fine like this," Duang says, glancing at Quinn, who has changed into a fresh outfit. Damn it. We've showered together. I want to die. I want to disappear from this world.

 

And now, every time he looks at the couch in the middle of the room, his face burns, even though he was the one who slipped his hand into his pants first. Duang can still hear Quinn's breathy moans and the way he kept calling his name, his half-lidded eyes as he pressed him into the couch, biting him multiple times as he reached the climax. Thank goodness it's a leather couch. Otherwise, we'd be cleaning it for hours.

 

"What are you staring at?"

 

"You," Duang replies.

 

"Eat your food."

 

"It's cold now. Whose fault is that?"

 

"Yours. You don't know when to stop," he snaps, back to being the grumpiest person in Nakhon Pathom. Duang wants to rush over and kiss his head, especially with his damp hair falling over his face as he eats salted egg stir-fried squid like a gangster.

 

"You're so fair-skinned," Duang teases.

 

"And you smell so good."

 

"Idiot."

 

"Yes, I'll marry you."

 

"I haven't even proposed."

 

"Yes, lI marry you," Duang repeats, only to have a cucumber thrown at him. But as always, he's not fazed. This reaction of his? It's an embarrassment. Definitely embarrassment.

 

"You shameless idiot," Quinn says.

 

"Don't act like I did it all by myself. You unzipped my pants first."

 

"You put your hand in my pants."

 

"Doesn't matter. This is mutual guilt."

 

"No self-control at all."

 

"Wow, look who's talking," Duang says, about to argue further when Quinn points a finger at him.

 

"Eat your food. Don't talk," he orders.

 

"Yes, sir."

 

Quinn eats his food while glancing at Duang, who is in an unusually good mood. Honestly, during the performance, he's been looking at him almost the entire time, even though he shouldn't have. The professor will probably dock points for not engaging with the whole audience. But whatever. How many points can it really cost?

 

"Where did you leave marks?" Quinn asks.

 

"Not on your neck. I don't want people to think badly of you."

 

"At least you have some sense."

 

"Oh, by the way, I'm going to Hua Hin on Saturday. I have to paint something for my professor."

 

"With whom?"

 

"Pae, Jet, and two other girls."

 

"Who?"

 

Damn. That's a strong bottom energy... which, well, he is. What? Who's going to argue with me? Duang holds back a smile. Does Quinn even realise how jealous he sounds with that tone and expression when he asks that question? It's so endearing. Duang loves it-loves it so much he could scream.

 

"Paeploy and Kee. You probably don't know them."

 

"They don't like you, do they?"

 

"How would I know that?"

 

"Wrong answer. Try again."

 

"Damn it."

 

"Answer again," Quinn demands, setting his utensils down and clasping his hands under his chin, staring Duang down. If Duang so much as stammers again, Quinn mightn't let him breathe.

 

"I don't know who likes or doesn't like me. I only like you."

 

"Is that good enough for you?"

 

"Are you just saying that to please me?"

 

"Quinn!" Duang exclaims, laughing because he's never seen this side of Quinn before. It's so cute. How can someone be this adorable? I don't want to let him go anywhere now. Forget the party-just stay here.

 

"Drive safely. You're coming back the same day, right? Quinn asks.

"Yeah, we'll take turns driving," Duang replies.

 

"Don't sit with the girls," Quinn says.

 

"Quinn, are you serious right now?"

 

"What? Am I not allowed to be possessive?" Quinn retorts.

 

"Quinnnnn!"

 

How can he say such a thing? My heart.

 

"You need to stop. I'm going to die. My heart can only take so much."

 

"You're possessive of me, and I'm possessive of you, too."

"..."

 

"You said there is only one me in the world."

 

Duang locks eyes with Quinn, who speaks with such sincerity that it makes Duang's heart race like it's about to burst. His chest feels full, realising that everything Quinn has done and said has always been about making them equals. No matter who starts it, Quinn always tries to make things equal between them.

 

"There is only one you in the world, too."

See? That's why Duang keeps saying Quinn is unbearably adorable.

 

"If you don't stop, I'm going to get up and kiss you, and then you won't be going anywhere. That's final," Duang warns.

 

"Do I look like I'm scared of you?"

 

"Don't do this. I get it, okay? I understand everything. I'll even send you hourly photo updates if that makes you feel better," Duang offers.

 

"Do I seem overly demanding?" Quinn asks.

 

"No, because if I asked you to do the same, you'd do it, too, wouldn't you?" Duang asks.

 

"Yeah... because you're such a crybaby."

"But I'd never ask for anything that would make you uncomfortable. And the things you ask for? I'm more than happy to do them. Not a big deal. Don't overthink it," Duang reassures him.

 

"I don't want you to force yourself."

 

Quinn scoops some food onto Duang's plate, his gaze lingering on Duang's eyes-the eyes that always warm his heart. He wants to keep this warmth forever, to hold onto it without changing anything. Because no one should have to go out of their way for someone else like that.

 

"With you, I've never had to force myself," Duang says.

"…."

 

"Would it be too cheesy if I said it feels like I've been preparing my whole life just to love you?"

 

It's at that moment that Quinn feels the need to commit. Maybe he's already felt it a long time ago.

 

"Really," Duang adds.

 

Because...

 

"I've prepared everything just to love you."

 

Quinn has prepared everything to love the person in front of him, too.