Chapter 3 02 - I Want to Give Back as Much as I've Received

That's how I'd describe Duang's arrival—a real troublemaker. He was completely wasted, head lolling as he was dragged in by Jetana and Prachai.

I used to think music students drank hard, but after seeing this, I might have to rethink that.

"Thanks, Pae. You too, Jetana."

"Not fair, man. You call him Jetana but don't call me Prachai?"

"You sure you can get him to his room by yourself, Qin?"

"We're the same size," I said lazily. I was so damn sleepy. I'd been waiting for his call to say he got home safely, but instead, I got a call from his friend saying he was wasted. When I asked where he kept his dorm keys, he wouldn't tell me.

Still sneaky, even when he's drunk.

What a headache.

"Take care of my friend, yeah?"

"If he crosses the line, just smash a bottle on his head," Pae said, pointing to his own head. I nodded. No worries there—he and I are evenly matched.

Every time we arm wrestle, we take turns winning and losing.

"Drive safe. See ya."

"Yeah, yeah."I turned around and started walking, struggling a bit because Duang was too drunk to stand on his own. Tomorrow, I was definitely going to have a talk with him. If my friends drank like this, I'd scold them— Let alone someone I'm talking to.

"Heyyyy, youuuu."

I slapped my hand over his face, pushing him to look the other way because he reeked of alcohol. His face was flushed red, ears too. Hopefully, he wouldn't die from alcohol poisoning or anything like that—my life's chaotic enough as it is.

I supported the drunk person all the way to the front of the room, telling him to rest his head properly on my shoulder. If he tripped and fell, he'd definitely crack his head open—no need to think about it. Unlocking thedoor was quite a struggle because he looked like he was about to fall backward several times. I let out a breath as I pushed Duang down, leaving him half-sitting, half-lying on the couch, before dropping down to sit as well.

Not long after, he crawled onto my lap.

"You smell good."

"Still flirty when you're drunk, huh?"

"I'm thorough with everything," he laughed to himself in a really annoying way before settling into a steady rhythm of breathing on my lap. I shook my head, exasperated, and gently ran my fingers through his dark brown hair. I figured I'd let him sleep it off a bit before waking him to shower—he'd sober up better that way. I didn't want him slipping and cracking his head open in the bathroom.

I spent quite a while sitting there, listening to nearly the entire jazz album and watching his long eyelashes as he slept soundly. Maybe this is what people mean by 'exception.'"..."

He's my exception in so many ways.

He came into my life like he could leave easily—but that's not true. He's still here. And he's here in a way that makes me feel like he's not suffering from how I am.

The way I am.

"Duang."

He murmured softly in response, like a child.

I smirked to myself, thinking I wouldn't mind if he just slept forever like this... It's kind of cute.

"You (ter)."

"Hey!"

But no, never mind.

He's cute when he's noisy too.

"Can I get another one, pleeease?"

"Get your ass in the shower." I stood up, letting his heavy head thump against the couch, which wasn't even that soft. He let out an exaggerated groan. I'm used to it—his attention-seeking habits.

Duang stood at his full height. I met his gaze as he looked like he was about to cry, still swaying a bit from the alcohol, but at least he seemed more coherent than half an hour ago. Honestly, I liked that we were the sameheight.

Same height—so much so that we once measured ourselves seriously against the sports science kids because they always teased us, saying whoever was shorter was the 'wife.'Even calling him my 'wife' feels ridiculous.

"I'm hungover."

"Serves you right. Dumbass."

"You're so mean."

"Hurry up and shower so you can finally go to sleep."

I sighed, walking over to grab a glass of water to cool my temper. He hunghis head and held out his hand for a towel. I jerked my chin toward the wardrobe, telling him to get it himself and that he could wear whatever he wanted. I also mentioned that there was a new toothbrush on the shelf by the bathroom mirror, and then he disappeared to freshen up.

I picked up my Marshall headphones to listen to the music I had to study for next week's exam. I still didn't fully understand the sheet music—at least not on a deeper level. I was absorbed in my own world when he came out in pajamas.

I squinted at him as he mouthed something, but I couldn't hear it since the noise-canceling feature blocked out everything except the jazz music playing in my ears. In the end, he was the one who came over and pulled the headphones off me. Normally, I'd get annoyed if anyone did that—but like I said, he's an exception in many things.

"Duang's not wearing underwear."

"Bastard."

I kicked him away with my foot. He laughed, clearly pleased with himself, as he stood at the foot of the bed, towel-drying his hair. I gathered the scattered music books lying on the bed to clear some space. There were already two pillows since it was a king-size bed—I didn't like an empty bed much, so I always kept two pillows and two bolsters.

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

"I'm sleeping on the left."

"Whatever you want. It's already a blessing that you're not making me sleep on the couch."

"You better be grateful."

I pulled the blanket over myself, inhaling the soft scent of fabric softener that always made me feel sleepy. Before long, the room went dark. I could faintly see him through the light from the street outside, and then he dropped onto the bed beside me. Our arms brushed under the blanket— closer than ever before.

"Qin."

"I'm listening."

"Just so you know, Duang's not drunk."

The closest we've ever been.

Closer than anyone else.

"I like you, you know."

"..."

And it feels like we're only getting closer.

"I still like you—just like the first day I realized I did."

I hummed in response, not saying it back, but deep down, I knew he understood my silence. I reached out, loosely holding his middle and index fingers, and with my eyes closed, I told him in a voice softer than the accidental brush of fingers over a keyboard.

"Goodnight."And he answered by intertwining all his fingers with mine.

He, who is an exception to everything.

And who will probably keep being an exception in ways I can't even begin

to predict.

______________

I watched Duang twirl the car keys, humming the song that had just played in the car, before nudging my shoulder and asking with wide eyes... I didn't respond because my mind was still stuck on what happened this morning.

"Qin."

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

This is insane.

"Qiinnn."

I snapped out of it and looked at him, now transformed into a three-year- old, pointing eagerly at a bubble tea shop. I rolled my eyes—he acted like he had completely forgotten why we even came to Siam in the first place.

"We're gonna be late."

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

"You're here to get a tattoo, Duang."

"Huh?"

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

"Qin, Duang's not doing it.""You told me to remind you—I even wrote it in my notes."Be serious."

"Come on, let's go to Lido."

"Qiiiiiin." He whined, clinging to my shoulder like a kid. I met his eyes—he looked like he was about to cry. Why the hell was he chickening out now?

Especially when it's the day of the tattoo and he already paid the deposit.

Forgetful as hell.

"I remember now—ugh, I was drunk. I drew the design myself, and then a senior dared me to get it tattooed."

"Act tough, then take responsibility."

"Ugh, it's just a few bucks."

"It's still money. Move it."

I grabbed his wrist and pulled him along. He needed to stop dragging his feet. By the time we made it to the staircase leading up to the second floor of Lido, I already had a headache from all his whining—about being scared of needles, feeling faint, asking if the hospital was far, and why the hell he had to come all the way from Thap Kaew just for this.

"Come on, Duang."

His lips trembled.

I wished other people could see him like this—wearing the black graphic tee I bought in England last year, dumb jeans, and sneakers he didn't even bother to wear properly, crushing down the heels.

Everything was almost fine—except his damn face.

"You're already here, what's there to be scared of?""Can I hold you?"

"Stop being annoying."

"Come on, Qin, it's an emergency—I'm not thinking anything dirty, I swearrr."

"Don't be a coward. It's just a tiny design—I'll sit with you."

"Youu (terr)..."

"Don't 'you' me."

"Then... can I hold your hand?"

I seriously wanted to smack him—always running his mouth like I was some vendor at the market. I sighed and gave a small nod since we were already standing in front of the tattoo shop.

"But Duang confirmed two designs."

"That's your problem."

"I'll tell him to do just one, but... damn, I'm kinda bummed. It's so pretty."

He mumbled, smiling awkwardly as he pulled out his iPhone and scrolled to show me the designs.

One was a pine forest with the sun.

The other was the sea with the moon.

"I'm just showing you—I'm not chicke..."

"I'll get one too."

I didn't meet someone's eyes when I said that—maybe because my heart skipped a beat at my own decision and his wide smile.

"Duang didn't force you.""You can't force me."

"Are you thinking something about me?" The person next to me started getting giddy. I looked at his warm hand resting on my thigh. It's his habit —when he talks to someone, he likes to place his hand there, sometimes stroking, tapping, or squeezing. When he saw me staring, he pulled his hand away, so I quietly told him it was fine.

And yeah.

He put his hand back, but higher this time.

"You're getting bold."

"Heh, sorry."

"Hey, are you the one who booked for 1:30?"

"Yes."

"The same design you sent me on Line, right?"

The person being asked nodded vigorously before going over to point at things on the tattoo artist's Mac screen. They were probably discussing the design. Then he waved me over to take a look.

"This looks good, right? I think it would look nice on the ankle."

"I was thinking the inner ankle too."

"Whose design is whose now?"

"You choose first. Anything's fine with me."

We locked eyes for a while before I told the artist I'd take the left design, and I caught a small smile forming on the person who drew it.

"Who's going first? Hop on the bed, lean against the wall, and put your foot up here. I'll go prep the needles and ink."As soon as the artist left the tattooing area, his face fell immediately. His warm hand shook mine repeatedly before he started whining again.

"Qin, Qin, I'm gonna pass out for sure."

"It shouldn't hurt that much—like falling off a bike."

"Falling off a bike doesn't hurt where?!"

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

"Really?"

"Yeah. Did you even do any research?"

"Sorryyyyy."

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

"No way. I wanna try first. If it hurts too much, you won't have to do it."

As soon as he finished speaking, he sat down on the tattoo bed. I sat beside him, holding out my hand before turning to meet his eyes. When the tattoo artist came back with the equipment, he slumped like a sad puppy.

"Hand."

"Huh? What?"

"Do you want to hold it?"

I'm a straightforward person.

And I know that about myself.

I don't smile easily, but I'm not that hard to make smile either.

"Qin."I keep a private world that I don't let people into easily. But does he know?

He's already in.

Just like when I started leaving the blinds open in my room, letting the warm sunlight in—until I realized that my eyes are actually dark brown, my skin is pale enough to show my veins, and that outside this world, there's him.

"Thank you."

He's like another sun.

Like a tattoo that seems like I let him choose—but I didn't.

I chose the moon because the sun didn't suit him.

"Gladly."

He is the sun.

To me... he is the sun.

____________

"Shit, it feels like cutting my leg with a box cutter."

"Is it really that bad, Qin?" Jet widened his eyes as he asked the pale guy quietly eating minced pork congee with salted egg.

"Not that much."

"You're just weak."

Duang kicked his friend under the table. They say everyone's pain tolerance is different, but still, when the artist went over the tattoo to add color, Qin unconsciously squeezed his hand.

Cute, huh?"What are you smiling at?"

"Nothing, kha."

Everything he does is just too cute.

"You're so annoying, always speaking 'kha' and 'kha'. Such a flirt."

"I only talk like this with Qin, okay? Give me a break."

"You never talked like this with your ex though, did you?"

"I've never had a lover, idiot."

"Liar, you'll go to hell, Duang," Jet said while focusing on his congee, completely unaware that he had just dropped a massive emotional burden on someone else. Duang swallowed hard and gave a dry smile to the pale guy staring at him quietly.

See?

Just like a cat—always staring.

"I really never had a lover before. I told you already."

"Really?"

"Really, really."

"You're quite the charmer."

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