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It's often noon when they wake up.
It was the phone that rang. Somewhere in the room.
Khaotung's sleep head peeked out from the blankets and patted the bedside table, realizing the noise didn't come from his phone. He dug out the other person under the sheets and nudged him with annoyance, "Your phone,"
His bedmate grumbled, sat up from his side, scratched the back of his head as he squinted at Khaotung. They stared at each other blankly; both were still frowning because of the harsh bell ringing through their eardrums.
First asked, "Where is it?"
Khaotung had already pulled the blanket over his head. A muffled voice came from underneath, vaguely hinting him to look in his pockets.
He struggled enough to get out of bed, then stumbled over things scattered on the ground, bent down to dig in his jean pockets, to finally find the phone that was vibrating stubbornly. After dismissing his alarm and putting his phone on silent, First crawled back to Khaotung's side, complaining, "it's cold," as he yanked over Khaotung's blanket. Khaotung wanted to push him away, but the other took advantage of his height. Cold limbs didn't hesitate to warp around his body, First even pressed his entire body weight on Khaotung.
Khaotung shivered, grumbling that First's body was too chilly. But First made up his idea not to leave the bed even half a step. They fought under the sheets for a few minutes, until Khaotung gave up reluctantly and climbed out of bed, bending down to study the wall heater.
He subconsciously glanced out the window. The sky was bright white. Little snowflakes were drifting in the streets.
Back under the bundle of blankets, First opened his eyes and asked him, "Heater on?"
Khaotung flipped over to face First, "It's on. It's your turn next time,"
First grunted.
With a rustle, the two bodies beneath the blankets were already familiar enough to press against each other without further thought. First naturally lay in Khaotungs arms, his fluffy hair rubbed against Khaotung's cheeks, ticklish. When Khaotung pressed his lips drowsily on First's nape, First grabbed the back of Khaotung's hand with his eyes closed, pulling it over on his belly, folding their hands together.
He told First, "It's snowing,"
First's comment was directly off-topic, "Your hands and feet are so cold,"
That's the cue to wrap around each other and snuggle before the room warms up.
How suffering can European winters be?
It's too strange for him. Winter nights are long. Especially when he sleeps in a little more, missing the daylight hours, the borders between days become blurry. The sky would still be dark after full hours of sleep. When he sits up from bed, he could only feel solitude consuming him. There aren't such short days and long nights in Thailand. It's hard to learn to regurgitate his own warmth during endless nights.
Even when he's walking on the streets, the sky seems to be covered with endless clouds and mist. The deep gray pressed above his head as he huddled in his cost. The cold wind clawed against his cheeks, making his face extra uncomfortable.
First entered the bar. A friend he had just met was waving at him, gesturing for him to hang up his coat. The warm air rushing into his face made him snuffle, as if the freezing air filtered in his lungs was condensed into moisture.
His friend called him "Kanaphan," he made a small smile and replied, "It's ok if you call me First,"
His friend then went along. First is a name much easier for foreigners. He leaned over to First, telling him there would be another Thai coming later. He complained under his breath, saying Thai people have such weird English names, and the full names are also long, with syllables gluing together.
This is how First met Khaotung on a cold winter night.
Khaotung doesn't go out much. He's not that much of a party animal; he for sure prefers to hide in his apartment most times. Only once. Only once did his close friends successfully lure him out of his personal cave, and he ran into First.
Though Khaotung doesn't go out, it doesn't mean he doesn't know how to dress up. When Khaotung wandered into the bar, First's eyes were instantly drawn to him. The Asian face can be effortlessly spot upon Western facial features; when the boy took off his coat, revealing the leather jacket underneath, it made First shift his eyes to the thin white shirt without noticing. The tank top fits just right to shape out his chest. It was tucked in a pair of high-waist jeans, pinching his thin waist.
The friend pulled the boy over, introduced him to First, and released Khaotung after quickly exchanging their name, allowing Khaotung to squeeze into the last vacant spot in the corner. Khaotung raised his eyebrows in surprise when he heard that First was also from Thailand, and soon shifted into a welcoming smile, nodding at him.
The atmosphere warmed up fast. As soon as the talking speed picked up, there were too many inside jokes and vocabulary that First didn't understand. He couldn't keep out with the others, so he leaned back in his chair and skimmed over the room. His eyes wandered over the bar. Men and women were gesturing and talking about their own stories. The noise of the crowd hummed against his ears. Alcohol was acting up, evaporating in his blood. He saw the candles on the table twitch under his eyelids.
He knew that Khaotung was looking at him. Because he is also subconsciously attracted to Khaotung. He caught himself glancing over at least three times.
First soon noticed from conversations that Khaotung's English was more fluent, and his pronunciation was also better. But Khaotung wasn't annoyed when he wanted to butt in a comment every now and then. Instead, he watched him patiently and let him complete every sentence he tried to express. He sometimes laughed along, making him relax and drink in a few more sips of alcohol.
The foreign friend tapped on his shoulder, announcing they were moving towards the front of the bar to do karaoke. First made an ok gesture to him and watched the others stand up, leaving the table with noisy chatter.
Khaotung didn't follow them. He was curling up on his high bar stool, sipping on his cocktail. Someone else bought it for him. It was a pink long island smoothie with a slice of lemon on the rim of the glass. A tedious but doable drink.
First was about to say something when Khaoutung raised his head.
Their eye met.
Some sort of magic happened, there, in that dusky bar.
Khaotung grinned at him and asked him in Thai, "So, First, is that so?"
He was too nervous, so he said, "I know,"
Khaotung didn't hear him clearly. He tilted his head and leaned closer, waiting First to find himself in those stammering Thai words, and finally explain, "I mean, I know. I know your name is Khaotung,"
The other let out a soft "Oh," with a slight rise at the end. They didn't return to their previous position; instead, they ended up talking alone in the corner. The language both of them spoke became a helpful icebreaker. They asked each other why they had come so far to Europe, where they live in Thailand, and opened up other random topics. Gradually, their thighs brushed against each other, and their shoulders would touch when their bodies swayed back and forth.
When Khaotung's fingers that were playing with the straw gently touched First's arm, First raised his eyelids and looked at him.
The paper straw had already been bitten into a damp piece of cardboard. Only a few ice cubes were left in that glass of long island, which clattered when Khaotung stirred the drink.
Khaotung was still talking, but First got distracted by the squirming lips. Khaotung must have noticed his stare; he pressed his fingers into First's skin, and looked over with a playful smirk.
First laughed dryly and said, "You'll make me think what your friend said is true,"
Khaotung casually asked, "What did he say?" while sliding the tip of his fingers to First's elbow, moving them as if he was playing piano on that spot. First tried to translate the foreign language he had heard into Thai. He slowly puzzled out words together, gesturing with both hands as he described, "People who come to bars aren't looking for alcohol; they're trying to seek for a partner under the cover of chatter and music."
They were already so close they were directly talking into each other's ears. The stereo in the bar started to play deafening pop music, to the point where they couldn't hear what the other was saying unless they raised their voice. He could count Khaotung's eyelashes, and see how his eyebrows slightly raised; when Khaotung breathed, the tip of his nose would tremble softly.
He wondered if his cheeks were also reddened by alcohol like Khaotung's.
When the physical distance is shortened, it also seems to clumsily drag over one's heart.
"Now you know, let's run away,"
His eyes sparkled when Khaotung exhaled those words, inviting First to elope with him. As if the plan he had in mind the whole night was about to finally come true.
When they stumbled out of the bar, it was snowing outside.
First hummed under his breath, leading Khaotung to giggle and continue the unfinished lyrics. The cramped space made them all sweaty; hence though the weather was cold, it didn't bother them to sway and dance under the street lamps. The two skipped around on the brick pavement, pale light cast on Khaotung's face; shadows dragged at the edge of his high cheekbones and the bridge of his nose, making him somehow elusive, light he was drifting against borders of dark and moonlight.
First leaned over without a thought, reaching over to wrap his arm around Khaotung's waist, so the other could be closer to him. If they were close enough, two throbbing hearts on this cold night might warm up each other, until they're slightly toasted and melted.
Laughter slipped from the lips of the two. First felt the vibration of his chest, making Khaotung unable to suppress the corners of his mouth. Though he was the one who pulled Khaotung closer, it was Khaotung that was looking at him. He stared into First's eyes sincerely, with indescribable dejavu and tenderness between his brows.
The magic is still in effect. There is something itchy in his chest, leaping, burning affectionately.
First felt Khaotungs fingers dig into the neckline of his turtleneck sweater, placing them on his nape. Those cold fingers lightly pressed on the skin covering his cervical spine. The distance between their lips shortened a bit, exchanging warm mist. Khaotung softly knocked on First's forehead, drew away the intense glaze first, as he lowered his eyelids, and breathed out, "My place? Or yours?"
His parted lips were trembling, not knowing whether it was the freezing cold or excitement. First only felt his lips were also a bit dry. First licked his bottom lip and told his partner had a roommate- his place might be unavailable.
Khaotung grabbed his wrist, leading him to hop on the last tram.
First slipped into Khaotungs hands. He held onto a man he had known for less than a few hours. He wonders if his concern was that the other would back out last minute, or if he merely wanted to confirm this was not a dream. Khaotung didn't mind, so they stayed like that, leaning their heads close while softly talking on the tram, continuing the endless conversation neither of them was tired of.
And they got off the tram, walked back to where Khaotung stayed, always staying within an arm's length next to each other, with thin snow touching their shoulders.
White snowflakes danced across the dark gray sky.
Their limbs intertwined under the blankets.
Attraction stronger than sexual impulse pulls them together. However, adults are always greedy, wanting everything. The two had to share conversations and kisses while busy making love.
He didn't even know if this was normal. He would have to stop in the middle of sex because he was too focused on the topic they were talking about; a joke would make them laugh so much one has to draw out from the other's body first, to giggle and curl up their limbs, and then slowly sink in once more. But when the boy under him let out a contented sigh when he slipped in, he somehow felt that all the physical action was necessary. They had to feel the flow of emotions naked. Bare. The most primitive appearance.
Two people who were meant to be finally found the piece of puzzle that completes one. He heard his soul being touched, pounding.
When Khaotung touched First's shoulder blade, First's palm also followed Khaotung's arm all the way up to his shoulder.
Where were they? Seemed like they were talking about the music and singer that they like. Two or more lyrics fell out from Khaotung's trembling lips. First noticed his bedmate has a good voice. He was attractive when he spoke, not to mention when he hummed softly under his breath, drawing First's thoughts. He couldn't help but leaned down to place his lips on Khaotung's Adam's apple that rolled up and down. The other lifted up his eyelids and looked at him, dazed. Pleasure that could wash away one's self-control filled in those eyes. Khaotung stretched his neck, and kissed First's chin in response.
First almost forgot there is a mold where Khaotung's lips touched, on his chin. A moan rolled out of his throat; tingling pleasure shot up from where they joined their bodies together, rushing up his spine, making his fingertips numb. He wanted to compliment Khaotung, telling him how good he was and how they matched each other perfectly, but when he finally built up words in his mind, they were instantly washed over by another wave of pleasure.
Khaotung pulled him very close, pressing his fingers into the back of his neck. In the end, only the sound of panting and thrusting remained, beating his eardrums. First felt Khaotung's nails dig into his skin. Those scratches were slightly red and swollen and burning. But Khaotung's breath was also humid. His body was warm as well. All could melt away the algidity of the freezing winter- how would First be willing to let go.
This is also how First gradually knew Khaotung from his most personal appearance.
He wasn't referring to being bedmates, but instead, the most racked moment when he just woke up, unable to hide away his flaws. All the temper spilled out instantly. Khaotung's seemingly easygoing attitude became another matter. He's definitely not a morning person. Sometimes he swept First's half of the blanket away or stomped out of bed with only a single comment. Although most of the time, he would only make a grumpy frown, turning over to not see First's face, and drag the blanket over his head to sleep in a bit more.
As expected, morning is the most challenging time of the day. It tests the relationship between the two of them. But after practicing day by day, they understood how to deal with these situations and became more familiar with each other.
Khaotung could pull an emotionless face in front of First, since he knew the other was used to it. First didn't mind either, he merely sighed and drew out a small smile, then went to manage his own daily chores.
After Khaotung was fully awake, brushed his teeth and washed his face, he came out to see that First was having breakfast. He dragged his steppes, walking over to rub his chin on top of First's head, muttering a good morning.
It was time to sit down and eat. Even though breakfast was sometimes only cereal and a half-bottle of milk they dug out from the fridge. There wasn't a dining table either. Khaotung's tiny apartment wasn't spacious enough to fit in a separate living room.
There were times when Khaotung hesitated to approach because he knew he had gone a little overboard. The two crossed their legs on the floor and chewed on their breakfast quietly. But First wanted to fill in the awkwardness and show Khaotung's morning temper didn't bother him, so he'd move over and lean in.
First has bad mornings, too. Both of them gave each other the cold shoulder. Neither wanted to speak; being in the same room was even too much to handle. After they left the bed, and finally cleared their mind, one of them would first break the ice, casually asking the other what is his schedule today.
No matter which scenario, It was okay after all. They also had warm and cuddly mornings. Had a good night of sleep, waking up to see the person you like next to you, for sure it would be a good morning. There would be more kisses and loving touches, continuing the lingering intimacy left from last night.
They accompany each other through days with long nights. Hang around the city, occasionally hop to the supermarket to buy groceries, do some homework, drink a little, kiss, and eventually, even up in bed, make love to each other.
No one said whether this is a romantic relationship, and they didn't define it either. But he found someone to share his body temperature on such endless nights. Instead of sipping the flame in his own core, it was much better to have someone to share the warmth.
When their friends go out to drink, First sits on Khaotung's lap. Neither of them clarified when people around them complained loudly about how stinky couples can be. Khaotung intensionally moaned that First was too heavy, while First only laughed off the comments and pressed even closer.
Everyone calls him Khao. He calls him Tung. The mutual mother tongue became an intimate language solely between them.
If the temperature was perfectly chilly, snow fell, their noses and cheeks would be bitten rosy red by the cold air. Little, shiny snowflakes dust on their two down jackets. One was white, and the other was back. Khaotung would lend his scarf to First, teasing him for not being about to stand the weather. First, he was so cold that he had to arch his back when walking. He weakly nudged Khaotung. Those pouty lips parted, trying to retort, but his teeth were shaking from the cold; he could only obediently stop his steps and let Khaotung wrap the knitted scarf around his neck.
The wool was soft, reminding him of intimate kisses from Khaotung, and how his warm lips moved on his bare neck. Hints of intimacy sank into the pattern of his skin and blood vessels through the body temperature left by its owner. First stomped his feet, claiming they should hurry home, and hurried Khaotung to leave.
Khaotung let out chuckles, white fog drew out from his lips. He strode forward quickly and deliberately, leaving First, the one rushing him, behind.
The groceries they had just bought were tucked in the plastic bag hanging on his forearm. Khaotung stuffed his hands in his pockets so his fingers wouldn't freeze and fall off. First looked at his back feature. The bag dangled back and forth. The boy was wrapped in a fluffy down jacket, mimicking a penguin migrating in a hurry. He couldn't help but pick up his pace to catch up, slipping his hand into Khaotung's pocket and taking in the little penguin's palm.
His little penguin complained, "Cold,"
First lifted up his chin and pretended he didn't hear what Khaotung said. He hummed as he held the other's hand tighter.
For sure, rushing home was to warm up their body. Turn on the heat, take off their jackets. Snow may melt on the jackets and snow boots, turning into puddles in the doorway, which could be worried later. First sat by the heater, rubbing his hands to warm them up. He listened to the rustle of Khaotung putting stuff into the fridge. Warmth flooded through his body. The dim yellow light made him extra drowsy.
Khaotung sat down beside him, putting his head on First's shoulder out of habit, and browsed through his phone aimlessly.
First's eyelids were dropping, and so was Khaotung. When the weight on First's shoulder slightly shifted, First glanced at Khaotung.
The other was still holding his phone, showing a clip that had just appeared on his feed. Two kittens were snuggling and licking each other over and over on repeat.
First lowered his head to press his lips on Khaotung's forehead. Khaotung's eyelashes fluttered. He lifted his eyelids and put his attention on First.
Their limbs tangle. The fingers that laced together outdoors soon continued in bed.
They didn't go out during New Year's. Instead, they played the computer game First was trying to clear, then watched a movie Khaotung picked. It wasn't until the neighbors started to set off fireworks did they realize it had passed midnight.
Khaotung heard the noise of something being knocked down in the stairwell. It was likely Khaotung's neighbor came back from a party drunk as usual, but First suddenly decided to open the door and take a look.
In the corner of the empty stairwell, a kitten was hissing at him.
Khaotung followed and poked his head out from behind First. Three pairs of eyes stared at each other, not daring to move.
At last, Khaotung broke the silence. He pointed at the gray kitten and said, "You two look quite alike,"
First: ?