Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The university canteen buzzes with life—a constant hum of chatter, the clinking of plates, and occasional bursts of laughter carry through the breeze. Phum sits at his usual table beneath the shade of a large tree, sunlight filters through the leaves, scattering dappled patterns across the surface. His fingers scroll absently through his phone, the noise around him fading into background static. Beside him, Beer and Mick hunch over their notebooks, deeply engrossed in their work.

“I don’t know why you even bother showing up to class when you don’t pay attention” Beer mutters, his pen moving smoothly across the page.

“I do pay attention” Mick shoots back, though his eyes remain fixed on his open notebook as he hurriedly copies down answers.

“I just don’t need to pay attention all the time.”

Phum glances up, a knowing smile tugging at his lips. “He means he is up all night gaming again” he teases, resting his chin on his palm.

Beer snorts, finally looking up to raise an unimpressed eyebrow at Mick. “Of course he is. And now you’re here, copying Phum’s work. What would you even do without him?”

“I’d manage” Mick says with a grin, though he quickly adds, “But, uh… thanks, Phum.”

Phum waves him off, his expression softening. Around his friends, the sharp edges of his usual demeanor fade, replaced by quiet ease.

Despite the open space and steady stream of students passing by, Phum barely notices the occasional curious glances directed their way. Some people still find it surprising—an Omega sitting so confidently among his friends, completely unbothered by the expectations that cling to his designation. But Phum never cares for those outdated ideas.

Fang, his fiercely protective older brother, has made sure he understands his worth long before he sets foot on the university campus. And with Beer’s sharp wit and Mick’s unwavering loyalty, Phum feels untouchable in the best way possible.

The gentle hum of the canteen shifts as a familiar voice rings out, light and teasing.

No wonder Fang has been checking his phone every few minutes, Phum thinks. Sure enough, it isn’t long before Tan strolls up to their table, his bright smile practically lighting up the open-air space.

“Hello, babe” Tan greets with ease, not hesitating for a second before leaning down and pressing a quick kiss to Fang’s cheek.

Phum cringes—not because he dislikes Tan, but because of the way his brother immediately softens, despite his best efforts to appear unaffected.

Fang, always so composed and guarded, now sits with the faintest dusting of pink on his cheeks as Tan slips into the seat beside him, effortlessly intertwining their fingers like it is second nature.

They aren’t even trying to hide it.

Completely lovey-dovey, right in the middle of the canteen, for everyone to see.

Phum shakes his head, an amused smirk playing on his lips. He still doesn’t get it. Sure, Fang is older, more experienced, but isn’t this a little… much? The stolen glances, the soft touches, the quiet smiles shared like the rest of the world doesn’t exist—what’s the appeal?

He frowns slightly, glancing back at his phone. Maybe he doesn’t understand because he has never been in love. At least, not yet.

Tan suddenly perks up, breaking the lull in conversation. “Let’s go to the Fine Arts faculty.”

Phum arches an eyebrow. “Why?”

“They’re holding an art exhibition” Tan replies, as if the answer is obvious.

“So?” Beer drawls, leaning back in his chair. “Why should we go to an art exhibition just because they’re holding one? Don’t they do that all the time?”

Tan huffs, dramatic as always. “Because these are my high school friends” he says, as though that settles it.

“Oh, the ones you’re always posting about on your Instagram stories?” Phum asks, mild curiosity in his tone.

“Exactly.” Tan nods eagerly. “I want you guys to meet them. Wouldn’t it be nice to try something new for a change?”

“Nice?” Beer repeats, unimpressed.

“Yes! It could be fun. You might even enjoy it,” Tan insists, his tone taking on a slight whine. Then, without missing a beat, he turns to Fang, tugging at his arm. “Babe, pleaaaaseee. Let’s go, let’s go, pleaaase.”

Fang exhales slowly, giving Tan a look that clearly says he isn’t falling for it. But then, with a shake of his head and a resigned roll of his eyes, he stands up, brushing off his jeans.

“Fine” Fang mutters.

Tan beams, victorious, immediately latching onto Fang’s arm like a magnet.

Phum exchanges a glance with Beer, who sighs. “Guess we’re going to an art exhibition” he says, pushing himself up from his seat.

Phum smirks, slinging his bag over his shoulder. If nothing else, watching Tan drag Fang through this is entertaining.

The Fine Arts faculty is alive with movement—students bustling about, vibrant paintings and sculptures displayed along the halls, the faint scent of paint lingering in the air. Following Tan through the crowd, Phum weaves between easels and display boards.

Tan holds two bouquets in his hands, his excitement unmistakable as he suddenly calls out, “Q! Peem!”

Phum barely has time to process before his eyes land on one of the names Tan has shouted.

Peem.

So that’s his name.

He sees him before—plenty of times, actually. Every time Tan posts about his Fine Arts friends, that particular alpha is always there. But standing here now, seeing Peem in person, Phum can’t help but think…

He doesn’t look like an alpha.

With soft features and a calm, composed demeanor, Peem looks more like an omega than anything else. The thought is almost amusing.

Phum doesn’t know why, but something about it makes him smirk.

Art has never been Phum’s thing. He just doesn’t get it—the hidden meanings, the symbolism, all the layers people claim to see. And honestly? He doesn’t care to try.

So, as they wander through the exhibition, he barely spares the paintings more than a passing glance. Some have pretty colors—that’s about all he can take from them.

He is about to move on when a particular painting catches his attention.

It is simple—just soft ripples in water, created with nothing but white and shades of blue. To an engineering student like Phum, it looks too simple.

“Wait… this is it?” he mutters, tilting his head. “Just two colours,  and it’s considered art? I could do this too.”

He chuckles, genuinely amused. He doesn’t mean anything by it—he just doesn’t get it.

But Peem, who has been standing nearby, freezes.

His grip tightens around the exhibition brochure in his hands, his brows furrowing. A storm is already forming in his mind. Peem is calm by nature. It takes a lot to rattle him—usually, the only thing that truly gets under his skin is someone insulting Q.

But this is different. This is personal.

And before he can stop himself, his body reacts on instinct.His pheromones spike. The shift in the air is immediate.

It isn’t aggressive, but it’s heavy—a silent warning, a quiet claim. The omegas nearby tense, shivering slightly under the sudden weight of an alpha’s emotions pressing against them.

Including Phum.

Fang, ever the protective brother, steps between Phum and Peem in an instant, his posture tense. His voice is firm but calm as he says, "Peem." A clear warning.

Peem barely acknowledges him. Though he forces his pheromones to settle, his focus remains locked on Phum. He takes a step forward, eyes sharp and unwavering.

"What do you just say?"

Phum blinks, tilting his head slightly, completely unfazed. "I say, this is it? Just two colors, and it’s called art? I could do this too." He repeats it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

He knows he’s being a brat. He always knows.

Nearby, Peem freezes, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. Irritation swirls in his mind. Usually, he’s calm, unbothered by most things. The only time his temper ever flares is when someone insults Q, his best friend.

But this—this is different.

He can’t explain why, but something about Phum’s words gets under his skin.

A flicker of doubt, one he’s always buried deep, threatens to surface.

He has wondered before if his paintings are too simple—too plain compared to Q’s haunting, intricate works. Once, he even asks his professor about it.

But hearing it out loud, from someone who doesn’t know anything about art, hits differently. Still, Peem isn’t about to let some clueless engineering student talk down to him.

Taking another step forward, he looks Phum dead in the eyes. "Just water?" His voice is steady, but there’s an unmistakable edge to it.

Phum shrugs, arms crossing over his chest. "Yeah. Compared to the other paintings, this one feels… empty. No real meaning, right?"

Peem lets out a slow breath. He doesn’t want to explode—not over this, not over someone who clearly doesn’t even care—but his fingers twitch at his sides.

"You don’t get it."

"Yeah, I don’t," Phum admits easily. "I don’t get why something so simple is worth being displayed."

Peem clenches his jaw. "Art isn’t about how complicated it looks. It’s about what it makes you feel."

Phum scoffs. "And what is this supposed to make me feel? Thirsty?"

A beat of silence.

Then—

Beer lets out a quiet snort before quickly covering his mouth. Mick elbows him hard.

Tan sighs, rubbing his temples. "This is exactly why I didn’t want to bring you guys here."

But before anyone can step in, Peem takes another step closer, his voice dropping lower.

"It’s supposed to make you feel calm. Water is peace. It’s movement and stillness at the same time. It’s everything without needing to be loud about it. Just because you don’t understand something doesn’t mean it’s meaningless."

Phum stares at him, caught off guard. He hadn’t expected Peem to get this worked up over a painting.

"So, what? You’re saying I’m too dumb to get it?" He raises a brow.

Peem huffs a quiet laugh, a short, mocking sound, but doesn’t say anything else.

Fang sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Alright, that’s enough. Phum, stop provoking people. Peem, don’t let him get under your skin."

Peem scoffs. "I’m not under anything." He crosses his arms.

"I’m not provoking—" Phum starts, but Fang shoots him a look.

Phum groans. "Fine. Whatever."

Tan claps his hands together, a little too dramatically. "Okay, let’s go grab something to eat!"

Fang gives Phum a sharp look before turning away. "Yeah, let’s go."

Beer and Mick quickly follow. Tan, always the peacekeeper, steers the group toward the exit with his usual cheerful energy.

But Peem doesn’t move.

Phum notices first, glancing back when he realizes the so-called soft-spoken alpha hasn’t followed. Peem stands still, arms crossed, staring at one of the paintings. His own painting.

He exhales sharply through his nose before muttering "I’ll stay. You guys go ahead."

Tan turns, surprised. "What? You’re not coming?"

Peem shakes his head, still not looking at Phum. "I don’t feel like it."

"I'm not going either," Q says. It’s the first time he speaks in front of the group.

Phum has heard about him—the quiet, talented art student.

Tan hesitates for a moment before nodding in understanding. "Alright. I’ll bring you two something later."

He reaches out, briefly squeezing Peem’s wrist before leaving with the others.

Even during lunch, Peem lingers in Phum’s mind.

A part of him wants to call out, to apologize, to fix what just happened. But he doesn’t move. He doesn’t say anything.

He doesn’t care, does he?

Phum’s thoughts drift back to the comment he made. He’s used to teasing people and getting away with it. He’s famous for being a bratty omega, and it comes with its own advantages.

He’s pretty—really pretty. His skin, glowing with a soft warmth, is flawless. His brown, silky hair falls in perfect waves around his face, catching the light in a way that makes it look almost unreal. He has the kind of beauty that turns heads without even trying. And he knows it.

He has everything—money, admiration, protection, love from his brother, Fang.

So why does Peem’s reaction bother him?

It’s just Peem. Who cares if he’s mad? Phum tries to tell himself. But deep down, he can’t shake the feeling.

He’s always been the center of attention, the one everyone wants to be around. But Peem? He’s different. He doesn’t bend to Phum’s presence like the others do, and it’s… unsettling.

That quiet, unshaken confidence Peem carries makes Phum feel something unfamiliar. Small, maybe? It’s an uncomfortable feeling, one he isn’t used to—and he doesn’t like it.

Phum frowns, thoughts swirling in his mind. He doesn’t want to push Peem away.He isn’t sure why, but he doesn’t want to lose that connection—however faint it is.

Phum doesn’t know why he finds himself walking to the Fine Arts Faculty this morning. It isn’t like he has any business being here. Still, his feet lead him to the canteen, and now he stands in front of the counter, distractedly scrolling through his phone.

"One iced Americano, please."

"One iced matcha latte, please."

Phum turns to his left.

He’s only heard that voice for the first time yesterday, and it lasted no more than fifteen minutes. Yet, he recognizes it instantly.

Then the scent hits him.

Yesterday, he didn’t catch Peem’s scent at all, but now it’s all around him—whirling, unmistakable. It’s a deep, calm, woody fragrance, like walking through a cedarwood forest after the rain. The sharpness of fresh pine mingles with the earthy warmth of cedar, grounding and steady. Beneath it, a subtle smokiness lingers, as if the forest’s heart is alive with quiet energy. And threaded through it all is the crisp freshness of open air—a touch of wilderness. It’s strong but not overpowering, a scent that lingers, like a whisper of something ancient.

Phum freezes.

He looks at Peem, uncertain what kind of expression is on his face. But Peem only glares at him.

Phum catches the shift in Peem’s scent—something sharp, something guarded. And he winces.

Their fingers brush as they reach for their drinks—just a fleeting touch.

But it’s enough.

enough to a sudden, electric jolt shoots through both of them, too strong to ignore. Phum’s breath catches in his throat, his heart skipping a beat. The warmth of Peem’s fingers lingers on his skin, sending a shiver down his spine.

He doesn’t understand why his body reacts like this—why the scent of cedarwood suddenly seems sharper, wrapping around him like an invisible thread, making thousands of flowers bloom inside him.

Why is my scent getting stronger? Phum thinks, a flicker of confusion sparking in his mind.

Peem stiffens, his amber eyes locked on Phum’s hand. His heart pounds painfully against his ribcage, the familiar weight of instinct crashing over him.

He knows this feeling. He’s heard stories about it.

But he never thought—

No.

Not him.

Not this Omega.

Their eyes meet, and for one brief moment, the whole world narrows to just the two of them—two hearts beating in sync, two breaths caught in the air between them.

Peem doesn’t speak. He doesn’t have to.

Because he knows.

Mates.

Chapter Text

Peem stands in silence, his gaze fixed on Phum, unsure of what to say or do. The tension between them is palpable, a quiet storm in the air. The moment stretches, like a breath held too long. Suddenly, the silence is broken by the sharp sound of someone calling out.

"Hia Peem!! Have you seen P'Q?"

Phum startles, blinking in surprise at the familiar voice that echoes through the quiet space. He turns to see Toey, standing there with wide eyes, a look of shock on his face.

"Toey?" Phum asks, his voice a mix of surprise and curiosity.

"What are you doing here?" Toey’s expression mirrors Phum’s.

"Hia Phum? What are you doing here?" He sounds equally startled.

Phum rolls his eyes, his exasperation laced with a trace of amusement. "I could ask you the same thing. Weren’t you supposed to be studying abroad? What are you doing in this city?" Toey lets out a long sigh, his shoulders slumping.

"It’s a long story. I decided not to go."

Phum’s arms cross over his chest, an air of disbelief lingering in his gaze.

"And you didn’t think to tell anyone? Not me? Not Fang? He was worried about you, you know."

A wave of guilt flashes across Toey’s face, his eyes dropping to the floor for a moment. "I know, Hia Phum. Toey feel terrible about it. I didn’t know you were here, too. Is Hia Fang studying here as well?" Phum nods quietly.

Toey’s face lights up with excitement, a small grin forming. "Take me to meet him someday." Phum smiles back, though there’s still a trace of concern in his eyes.

"So, you're studying fine arts now?" Toey nods vigorously, his enthusiasm contagious.

"Yes! It's been great." Then, his gaze shifts toward Peem, who has remained silent, his expression still clouded with confusion. Toey frowns slightly but quickly turns his attention back to Peem.

"So, did you see P' Q?"

Peem, still lost in his thoughts, shakes his head. His words come out in a rushed blur.

"No idea. I have class right now, but I think Q’s already there. You wanna come? I’m late, I’m going." His words are rapid-fire, his footsteps already carrying him away. Toey, barely catching up with Peem’s words, blinks in confusion.

"Hia Peem, wait for me!" he calls, rushing to catch up. He turns back to Phum, a quick wave of his hand in the air. "I’ll talk to you later!"

And then, like a whirlwind, he disappears into the crowd, chasing after Peem. Phum remains standing there, holding his iced Americano, the cool drink almost forgotten in his hand. His fingers absentmindedly brush over the spot where they had touched Peem’s earlier, the warmth of that brief contact lingering.

His thoughts are a tangle of confusion, but one thing is clear—the memory of the cedarwood scent, subtle yet powerful, clings to the air around him, and he longs for it again, like the pull of something he can’t name.

Peem walks into the classroom, the weight of his unfinished work pressing down on him. A heavy sigh escapes his lips, but he doesn’t allow himself to look at anyone. Not yet. He feels Q’s gaze on him, steady and knowing, like a presence that hangs in the air. Yet Peem can’t bring himself to meet Q’s eyes. Not now. He doesn’t want to answer any of the questions Q would ask because he knows that his best friend knows him very well.

Then, like a breath of fresh air, Toey enters the room. Peem’s shoulders relax, a subtle release of the tight tension that had built in his chest because he knows Q’s attention will shift to Toey. Toey’s entrance always brings a different kind of energy. A little mischievous, a little carefree.

"P'Q!” Toey calls out, his voice light with playful annoyance.

“Where’ve you been? I’ve been starving! Can’t eat a thing because you disappear on me. Did you forget about me?” Q, ever the calm one, only gives him a small smile.

“stop complaining and go ahead. Order something for me. I’ll catch up in a bit. I need to talk to Peem.”

“Look at me, Peem.” Peem winces at the tone, as if he’s caught red-handed. Peem’s eyes widen, panic rising.

“What? What happens? Is something wrong?” Q doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, he studies Peem’s face, narrowing his eyes slightly.

“Nothing happens” he says. Peem’s eyes dart away, unable to keep the gaze for too long. He sighs, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I meet Phum at the canteen” he finally mutters. Q takes a moment, considering it, before the question comes, the one Peem knows will follow.

“Our canteen?” Peem nods quickly, almost too quickly.

“That’s all?” Q presses, his voice quiet but firm.

“Yeah, that’s all” Peem replies hastily, his tone higher than usual. Q stares at him, unblinking. Finally, Peem caves.

“Look, it’s not something I can talk about right now, alright? Let’s talk later, okay?” Q’s lips press together, but after a moment’s pause, he nods. He seems to accept it, and Peem sighs in relief. Of course, the first person he’s going to tell about this is Q—his best friend.

Changing the subject, Q leans back in his chair, a knowing smile creeping up his lips. “Tan’s planning a party with Phum, Fang, Mick, Beer, and us.”

Peem doesn’t even need a second to think. “I won’t be able to come” he says, too quickly. Q raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t push. Instead, he presses his lips together, as if deep in thought.

“It’s at your place, Peem.” Peem blinks, his face scrunching up with confusion.

“How is he supposed to arrange something at my place without even asking me first?” Q only shrugs, as if the answer is obvious, as if it’s a foregone conclusion.

“That’s how it’s always been. You know that.” Peem slumps forward, his hand falling to his forehead in frustration.

Phum goes to meet Fang, but as he arrives, he sees Tan is there too. Well, that isn’t a surprise. Instead of greeting Fang, Phum walks straight to Tan.

“What do you know about Peem?”

he asks, his tone steady but firm. Fang raises an eyebrow at the unexpected question, while Tan visibly tenses. He looks almost horrified. He knows Phum well—Phum doesn’t easily let things go, especially when someone crosses him. And now, that someone happens to be one of Tan’s friends.

“Listen, Phum, I know you’re mad, but Peem isn’t that kind of person, okay? He doesn’t pick fights. I don’t even know what happens to him yesterday, but… please, just let it go,” Tan pleads. Phum shakes his head.

“I’m not going to do anything to him” he says simply. “I’m just curious about him.”

"You’re not going to do anything…?" Tan asks, still unsure. Phum lets out a tired sigh.

"No. Listen, I’m just curious. Just tell me about him."

Tan hesitates for a moment before finally giving in. "Okay… Peem is one of the calmest people I know. Me, Peem, Q, Chain, and Pun have been friends since high school. Peem always looks out for Q—if anything ever gets to him, it’s got to be something about Q."

Phum listens intently as Tan continues. "People almost mistake him for an omega sometimes, but Peem is actually a very strong alpha. He just doesn’t use it much" Tan says with a small shrug. Phum nods, taking it all in.

"Okay."

Tan blinks.

"Okay? That’s it?"

"Yeah, that’s all. I’m heading to class. See you later," Phum says, giving them a casual wave before walking away.

In the evening, as Phum lounges on his couch, watching his favorite cartoon, the familiar chime of the doorbell echoes through his apartment. He doesn’t need to check. He already knows who it is. Opening the door, he greets Fang with a small smirk.

"I knew you were going to come."

Fang steps inside, raising an eyebrow.

"So there is actually something to talk about."

Phum only shrugs, gesturing for him to sit. They settle into the plush warmth of Phum’s sofa, the soft hum of the television filling the silence before Fang finally asks "So, what happened, Phum? Why are you looking into him if you’re not planning to deal with him over yesterday?"

Phum leans back, exhaling slowly. "Actually… something happens today."

He hesitates for a moment before continuing.

"I went to the Fine Arts Faculty canteen today." Fang gives him a knowing look but doesn’t interrupt. He simply waits, letting Phum take his time.

"And I met Peem there" Phum finally admits. His fingers fidget slightly in his lap.

"It just so happened that both of our drinks are ready at the same time. When we reached for them… our fingers brushed." He stops there, avoiding Fang’s gaze, suddenly hyper-aware of the way his own fingers intertwine in his lap.

"And?" Fang prompts, his voice steady, waiting for the real reason Phum is this caught up in the moment. Phum swallows.

"I felt something." His voice is quieter now, almost careful.

"There were sparks—actual sparks. Electricity ran down my spine. And—" He inhales deeply, finally meeting Fang’s eyes.

"Our scents got stronger." Silence stretches between them as Phum watches for Fang’s reaction.

"So… do you know what that means?" Fang asks, his voice carrying a slight tremor. His usual composure cracks just enough to reveal his shock. Phum shakes his head slowly, a small, uncertain motion.

"I have my guesses" he admits. Fang’s sharp gaze softens, his expression turning almost gentle.

"Phum… Peem is your mate." The words land heavily in the space between them. Even though Phum has suspected it—has felt it in his bones—hearing it spoken aloud makes his heart stutter in his chest.

Mates.

He never truly believes in them. The only real pair he has seen is Fang and Tan. Even their parents aren’t mates, and it isn’t uncommon. Some people live their whole lives without ever finding theirs. And even if they do, it isn’t an unbreakable fate. If mates choose to, they can reject each other without suffering, as long as no bond has been formed—no mark left behind. People can love, build a life, and be happy without ever finding their destined other half.

But Fang and Tan… their bond is different. Beautiful in a way Phum admires from afar. There is no debate about that. He just never thinks he will have something like it. And now, here he is—his first real interaction with his mate is a fight. His mind starts to spiral, racing through possibilities, through questions with no answers.

What does this mean?

Do I have to do something?

Do I even want this?

Fang, knowing his little brother better than anyone, reaches out, grounding him before he can get lost in his own thoughts.

"Phum" he says gently, "first, calm down, okay? I’m here. We’ll figure this out together."

Phum looks up at him, wide-eyed, like a lost child searching for direction. Fang’s gaze softens even more, his grip tightening around Phum’s hands—the same hands that are clutching his favorite stuffed toy like it’s the only thing keeping him steady.

"I know this is scary" he says quietly. "But I want you to ask yourself something, Phum. Do you want this?"

Phum swallows hard. His voice is barely above a whisper.

"I… I don’t know."

Fang doesn’t let go. Instead, he grips Phum’s hand even tighter, grounding him.

"What if Peem doesn’t want it?" Fang asks, his voice quieter now.

"Then that’s the end of it" Phum answers simply.

"I won’t make him stay just because we’re mates. You know me, right?" Fang nods, knowing full well that Phum isn’t someone who would cling to something forced. Phum lets out a short, humorless laugh.

"Honestly, if he doesn’t want it, that’d make the most sense. All he does is glare at me whenever we meet. Can you even imagine us as mates?"

Fang doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, he lets the silence stretch, thinking it through before finally asking, "But… what if Peem does want it?"

Phum stiffens. Fang can feel it through their joined hands, the sudden tension in his brother’s fingers. A faint blush creeps onto Phum’s cheeks, barely noticeable, but Fang catches it anyway.

He never thinks this day will come. Phum has never cared about relationships before—not because he isn’t interested, but because, deep down, he has never believed he deserves one. He doesn’t know what it feels like to be loved. And for the first time in a long while, Fang feels hopeful—because Phum has found his mate. There is a chance for him to be loved.

Phum's circle is small. Too small. Beer and Mick have been his only real friends until Tan came into their lives. When their father sends Phum abroad alone—too young, too unprepared—Phum is devastated. Their parents promise it’s for his own good, that it will shape him into someone stronger, but all it does is leave him feeling abandoned.

Phum spends nights staring at his ceiling in an unfamiliar room, the coldness of a foreign place pressing in on him. His parents never have time to call. Not once do they check in on how he is adjusting. The only voice that keeps him grounded—the only thing that reminds him he isn’t truly alone—is Fang.

Despite the time difference, despite how exhausting it must be for him, Fang calls every single night. He stays on the phone until Phum falls asleep, whispering stories about home, about the little things he knows Phum misses. Fang is his lifeline. And even now, years later, Phum still can’t bear to look their father in the face. Phum has never forgiven him for it, and Fang still doesn’t know how to rebuild the broken pieces of their family.

"I think I have to talk with him" Phum says, and his words snap Fang out of his thoughts.

Fang looks at Phum, who is already looking back at him. "If he wants this… I have to talk to him, right? I don’t know what kind of conversation it will be, but I think we need to talk about this."

Fang nods in agreement. Because, really, what they need most is to talk. Both Phum and Peem—what they need most is a conversation.

"But Peem doesn’t look like he wants to talk" Phum adds. "He just runs away, so I think he doesn’t want this." There’s a tiny bit of sadness in his voice, barely noticeable, but Fang catches it.

"Maybe he’s just confused" Fang says. "Maybe he needs time to process what happened. I’m sure he never expects you to be his mate. Let’s give him a little time."

Then, remembering something, Fang says, "Oh, Tan invited us to Peem’s place for a party—to get to know them. I think that’s a good chance for you to talk to him. Do you want to come?" Phum nods, whispering a soft okay.

Pun and Chain are already setting up tables in the yard when Peem arrives home with Q. By now, the cafe closed for the day, leaving only the warm glow of the outdoor lights flickering in the evening breeze.The gang always loves partying here—it’s familiar, comfortable, and feels like home.

Peem steps through the gate, eyeing the two guys arranging things like they own the place. With a deadpan expression, he asks, "Seriously, whose house is this?"

Pun, completely missing the sarcasm, pauses for a long moment before answering, "Aunt Pui's?" as if he’s delivering some groundbreaking revelation.

The group collectively shakes their heads, used to his cluelessness. Instead of bothering to explain the joke, they focus on getting the grill going, the rich scent of marinated meat beginning to fill the air. Just as they settle into their tasks, a loud voice shatters the peaceful evening.

"Hellooooo, my friends!!!" Tan yells dramatically as he arrives, his usual energy instantly lifting the mood. Behind him, Fang, Phum, Beer, and Mick follow, their expressions ranging from amused to exhausted at his entrance.

"Mhmm, you’re finally here. What took you so long?" Peem asks, nodding toward Tan.

"Okay, okay, come sit. I wanna drink" Pun whines impatiently, already reaching for a glass. But before Tan can even sit, his eyes land on Pun. He stares for a second before blurting out, "Pun, what are you wearing?"

"A pijama" Pun replies casually, like it’s the most normal thing in the world. Tan squints at him.

"Then why don’t you just go to sleep already?"

"Can I?" Pun perks up, immediately standing as if he’s ready to sprint upstairs.

"HEY—" Everyone yells in unison, stopping him in his tracks. Even Phum, who had been quiet until now, chuckles under his breath. The whole group erupts into laughter. Seriously, this guy is something else.

When they finally settle down, Phum finds himself sitting directly across from Peem. Peem doesn’t meet his eyes—not even once.

Not a single glance.

He’s doing it on purpose. It’s obvious. Phum notices everything.

For the first time, he sees Peem in something other than the crisp white shirt he always wears to university. Tonight, he’s in a simple t-shirt and comfy shorts, and somehow, it makes him look softer—more at ease in a way Phum hasn’t seen before.

Peem has pretty, almond-shaped eyes, their depth catching the warm glow of the outdoor lights. His skin is impossibly smooth, almost glowing, and his dark bangs fall just long enough to brush against his lashes. And then there is

his smile.

It’s effortlessly beautiful—the way his eyes crinkle at the corners, forming perfect crescent moons. The way his whole face lights up when he laughs. The way his joy feels so natural, so easy.

Phum can’t look away.

He wants to make Peem laugh. Not just at anyone’s jokes. He wants to be the reason Peem smiles like that.

Peem abruptly gets up, mumbling something about getting more ice. Phum watches as he disappears into the house, his eyes never leaving the retreating figure. Around him, the others are lost in their own worlds—most of them already tipsy, their laughter blending with the crackling of the grill. No one notices when Phum stands up and follows.

Inside, he finds Peem behind the cafe counter, filling a small bucket with ice. His back is turned, his movements precise and unhurried. Phum leans against the counter, resting his arms on the wooden surface where customers usually place their orders.

Peem lives here with his aunt, Pui. Their cafe occupies the ground floor of the house—a cozy little place, warm and welcoming. Even now, with the lights dimmed and the chairs stacked neatly to the side, it still carries a certain charm.

"Didn't know you were a coward" Phum says, his voice laced with teasing as he casually scans the cafe, deliberately avoiding Peem's gaze. Peem freezes for a second before turning around sharply, his almond-shaped eyes darkening.

"I'm not a coward" he says, his voice steady, firm.

Phum finally looks at him then, meeting his glare head-on. "Then why are you running away?" he asks, refusing to let it go.

Peem drops the ice bucket onto the counter with a dull thud before stepping around it, closing the space between them.

"I'm not" he says, voice light, almost amused. "I'm literally standing right in front of you." He leans in just slightly, a smirk playing at the edges of his lips.

Phum instinctively takes a step back, his knuckles pressing into the counter behind him. He wants to look away—to break the contact somehow—but he doesn’t.

Or maybe he can’t.

Peem’s gaze holds him in place.

He’s close.

Too close.

Phum feels like he’s running barefoot through a damp cedarwood forest. The air is thick with the scent of peem, grounding and intoxicating all at once. It’s dark, but it doesn’t feel dangerous—it feels safe. A kind of safety he’s never known before. And he wants more of it.

More of this.

More of Peem.

Even if he doesn’t know why. Even if he’s not sure he can handle it.

One of Peem’s hands suddenly wraps around Phum's waist, pulling him closer, their bodies crashing together with an electric shock racing down Phum’s spine, the same sensation he felt before at the canteen.

Phum stands frozen, his hands still outstretched, holding onto empty air, not daring to touch Peem’s back. But Peem’s presence is overwhelming. One hand is firmly pressed against his waist, the other against his back, his chin resting lightly on Phum’s right shoulder.

The scent of cedarwood floods Phum’s senses, wrapping around him like a warm, comforting embrace. The sharp freshness of pine cuts through the air, blending seamlessly with the earthy, smoky undertones of the woods. It’s an intoxicating mix that pulls at Phum’s core, grounding him while still igniting something wild within him. The scent clings to him, enveloping him completely—so close, so intimate—that it feels as though he’s surrounded by nothing but Peem, the world outside fading into the background.

"Phum?" Peem’s voice is low, a whisper against the heat of Phum’s skin, sending a shiver through him.

"Y-yes?" Phum stutters, his heart racing, his cheeks already burning with the intensity of the moment.

Phum suddenly feels Peem’s nose brush against the side of his neck, the soft, almost imperceptible contact sending a wave of heat through him. He gasps, his breath catching in his throat, and instinctively grips onto Peem tighter, the sensation of Peem’s presence overwhelming him. Phum presses his lips together, trying with all his might to stifle the sound threatening to escape.

"I can't smell your scent" Peem whispers into his ear, his voice sending a shiver down Phum’s spine.

"I—I wore scent blockers" Phum stammers, his words barely escaping as his heart pounds in his chest. Phum hears Peem sigh softly against him, the sound filled with something Phum can’t quite place. He feels Peem’s grip tighten for a moment, pulling him closer, before releasing him and gently taking Phum’s hands into his own.

This time, Phum doesn’t dare to look up at Peem, instead focusing on their joined hands, feeling the warmth radiating from Peem’s touch.

"Do you really want to talk about it?" Peem asks, his tone uncertain, almost as if he’s searching for reassurance. Phum nods, his eyes fixed firmly on their hands, refusing to meet Peem’s gaze. The weight of the question hangs between them.

"Then how about going upstairs?" Peem asks, his voice soft but firm, as he gently tugs on Phum’s hand. Phum doesn’t respond with words. He simply nods, his thoughts swirling, and follows Peem up the stairs.

They both settle on the balcony, sitting on the simple bench. Peem gestures for Phum to sit, and Phum does, making sure to leave some space between them. They both gaze at the sky, a quiet moment stretching between them before Peem softly breaks the silence.

"You don’t believe in mates, do you?" he asks, his voice gentle, with a hint of curiosity.

He turns his head to look at Phum. Phum blinks, caught off guard. For a moment, they both stare ahead, the air thick with silence. Phum turns his head quickly, looking at Peem, unsure of how he came to that conclusion.

"How do you know that?" Phum asks, his voice betraying a touch of confusion. Peem shrugs casually, offering a small, knowing smile.

"I just guessed. You seem like someone who wouldn’t believe in them."

Phum stays quiet for a moment, processing Peem’s words. He tilts his head slightly, still unsure. "Really?" he asks, a hint of doubt in his voice.

"You can read people too?"

Peem laughs out loud, the sound so natural and easy, it fills the space between them.

"It’s not like that" he says, his smile softening the mood. "I just guessed."

"How about you guessing about me?" Peem asks, his tone teasing yet still light.

"You believe in them?" Phum says, unsure, still testing the waters.

Peem laughs again, his laughter light and effortless. Phum watches him, unable to look away. It’s so easy for Peem to laugh like that. He hasn’t said anything particularly funny, yet Peem laughs twice at what he said. The sound of his laughter has this warm, comforting effect on Phum, making him feel at ease. Phum continues to watch him, realizing that Peem’s laugh might just be his most favorite thing in the world right now.

"See? You guessed it right" Peem says, his smile easy and open, meeting Phum’s gaze with that same calm warmth.

"Listen, I'm sorry for earlier—I mean, the hug. I'm sorry, I just… I—" Peem starts rambling, his words stumbling over each other, unusually uncertain.

"It's okay" Phum says softly. Peem doesn’t look convinced. His brows knit together slightly, his lips pressing into a thin line.

"It's okay, Peem" Phum repeats, this time meeting his eyes.

Peem’s mouth parts slightly. He doesn't say anything. Just stares. His expression shifts, like something unexpected has settled over him, something Phum can’t quite place. It’s only a second, maybe two, but it feels longer. Peem just… stops.

Phum watches, confused. Did he say something strange? But then Peem blinks, his throat moving as he swallows, and suddenly he coughs, clearing his throat as if shaking himself out of a daze.

"Did you wear scent blockers because of me?" he asks, his voice quieter this time.

"The answer is yes and no" Phum replies, his fingers unconsciously curling against the fabric of his sweater.

"Fang usually asks me to wear scent blockers when we go out for drinks—since we don’t always get to go home together. But today… you were also a reason. I specifically came here to talk to you, but I didn’t know how you would rea—"

"You don’t need to wear them" Peem interrupts, his voice firm but gentle. "Not because of me. You don’t have to." His eyes flicker away for a moment before he adds, a little too quickly, "And don’t worry, I can control m-myself." Peem is flustered.

Phum can’t believe it.

He’s seen so many versions of Peem today, and somehow, it’s still not enough.

"Peem… do you want this?"

"Yes" Peem says, his voice firm despite the flush spreading across his face. Phum watches him, taking in every little reaction.

"I don’t know how to explain it" Peem continues, exhaling softly. "But even if it’s rare to meet your mate, I waited for mine. Never thought he’d be a brat, though." His lips curl into a teasing smile, trying to ease the weight of the moment.

Phum huffs, but he doesn't interrupt.

"I was so shocked that day" Peem admits, his tone quieter now. "Didn’t know how to react or what to say to you. I wasn’t sure… not until you showed up here today. But I still didn’t know what you wanted. I–I was afraid you didn’t want it."

Phum lowers his gaze for a moment before speaking. "I don’t like it" he says softly. "But I don’t hate it either." Peem tenses slightly, his breath hitching.

"I’ve never been in a relationship, and I don’t know much about mates either" Phum continues, his voice steady but careful.

"Honestly, I had my guess about what happened to us in the canteen, but I still asked Fang to be sure. But… if you want this, I’m willing to try."

Peem’s lips part slightly as he repeats the words, barely above a whisper. "You’re willing to try?"

Phum nods. Peem exhales shakily before smiling—soft, warm, and so, so grateful. "Thank you." And Phum, for some reason, feels like this is the first time he's seeing Peem smile for real.

Peem shifts on the bench, a quiet thought passing through his eyes before he speaks again, this time with a bit more vulnerability in his tone.

“So… are we going to, like, see each other again?”

Phum looks at him, the question lingering between them. He nods after a moment. “Yeah… I think we should. We could get to know each other more, I guess.”

Peem smiles a little, but it’s soft—almost shy. He looks down for a second, then back up at Phum.

“I’d like that.”

Phum shrugs lightly, trying to keep the mood casual. “Not like a date, though.” He gives a small smile, but there’s something else there—a hint of something uncertain, yet open. “Just... seeing where things go.” Peem nods, his eyes warm.

“Yeah, I’m fine with that.” The air between them feels lighter now, the awkward tension from earlier fading into something a little more comfortable. But before they can continue the conversation, Phum’s phone vibrates in his pocket. He pulls it out, glancing at the message.

Fang: Where are you?

Phum reads it, then puts the phone away with a sigh. "Fang’s probably wondering where I went."

Peem raises an eyebrow. “Guess that means you have to head out.” Phum nods, standing up.

As he does, he looks at Peem again, feeling a strange pull to linger.

"Peem?"

"Yeah?" 

Phum hesitates, a sudden thought crossing his mind.

"Can you—can you hug me again?"

Peem’s eyes widen slightly, and for a moment, he doesn’t move. But then, slowly, he steps closer, his arms going around Phum's waist with gentle care, this time even softer than before. There’s no rush, no urgency—just the quiet comfort of the moment.

Phum, in return, holds on for a second longer than he expects. It feels different now, warmer, as though they’ve crossed some invisible line between them. When they pull apart, Phum feels his cheeks flush a little, but he doesn’t say anything about it. He’s not sure if Peem feels it too—this change.

"I should go" Phum says, his voice a little rougher than usual.

“Take care, Phum.”

Chapter Text

Peem squints when he spots the omega in front of the Fine Arts faculty again. As he approaches, Phum does everything but look at him, which only makes Peem chuckle.

"I assume you came to meet me" Peem says, watching as a blush creeps onto Phum’s cheeks.

"Maybe" Phum replies with a mischievous smile.

"Maybe?" Peem raises an eyebrow, tilting his head slightly as he leans in, closing some of the space between them. His eyes glint with challenge, teasing yet inviting.

Phum, instead of stepping back, mirrors the movement—leaning in just the same, meeting Peem’s gaze head on.

"Maybe I came to meet Toey" Phum finally says, lips curving slightly.

Peem huffs, rolling his eyes. "Then I’m leaving. See you later." He straightens up, turning as if to walk away.

But before he can take a step, Phum’s fingers wrap around his wrist.

"Wait."

Peem stops, a knowing smirk playing on his lips as he glances back.

"What?"

Phum hesitates for a moment before speaking, his voice quieter now, almost embarrassed.

"Have a drink with me."

Peem’s smirk widens. "So you did come to meet me."

"I came for both" Phum insists, but Peem only laughs.

Peem laughs—because of him. Again. Yes again.

Phum watches, feeling something warm settle in his chest. There’s something about Peem’s laughter, unguarded and bright, that makes him feel lighter too—like happiness isn’t just something to witness but something to share.

"So, how do you know Toey?" Peem asks, pulling Phum out of his thoughts.

"We went to the same high school" Phum begins, his voice carrying a certain warmth.

"He was so small back then. Me and Fang protected him like our own little brother. But he said he was going to fly abroad for higher studies and we hadn’t heard from him in a long time—until that day."

Peem watches Phum talk non stop, his lips curving into an amused smile. 

"You talk a lot" he finally says, eyes gleaming with something unreadable.

Phum stiffens at the words, his voice cutting off immediately. He doesn’t say a word—just stares at the water droplets sliding down his iced Americano, watching as they gather and trail along the glass.

"What? Now you’re never gonna talk again?"

Peem chuckles when Phum stays silent but the sound makes Phum turn his head almost instantly. 

The reaction is so quick that Peem notices—his laughter softens into a knowing smile. He should’ve known by now. The way Phum stares whenever he laughs, unblinking, like he’s memorizing the sound.

Peem leans in again, voice dropping just slightly.

"You like it when I laugh." It isn’t a question. He says it with confidence, like he’s figured something out.

Phum doesn’t move. He just keeps staring, his expression unreadable. Then, suddenly, his scent shifts.

It blooms all at once—rich and full, like stepping into a garden in full bloom. Something citrusy and sweet, petals brushing against each other in the breeze. And beneath it all, the warm, creamy note of vanilla. It’s sweet—so sweet Peem feels like he’s sinking into it. Like it’s wrapping around him, pulling him in.

The sudden strength of it makes Peem’s lips part slightly in surprise.

And then—

Phum abruptly stands up.

"I’m late for my lecture" he mutters, already turning away.

Before Peem can react, he’s gone—leaving his iced Americano on the table, condensation still gathering on the glass.

Peem stares at the abandoned iced Americano, watching the droplets slide down the glass. His mind is still stuck on something else—the lingering scent that hasn’t quite left the air yet.

It was too much. Too sudden. Too sweet. It’s like it’s still wrapped around him, refusing to fade.

His fingers tap against the table. He exhales slowly.

Then, without thinking too much about it, he reaches for the drink Phum left behind. He doesn’t like Americanos, never has, but he lifts the cup anyway and takes a sip.

The bitterness coats his tongue immediately, sharp and unwelcoming. He barely stops himself from making a face.

Still, he swallows. And then, he takes another sip.

It doesn’t taste good. Not to him.

But he doesn’t put the cup down either.

"Hello?" Peem answers the call, the unexpected ring pulling him from his thoughts. His voice comes out cautious, unsure.

"Will you come this Saturday?"

Peem blinks, glancing at his screen. The number isn’t saved. Yet, something about the voice feels familiar, like a song he’s heard before but can’t quite place.

"Who is this?" he asks, curiosity creeping in.

A small chuckle comes from the other end. 

"Oh? You still can’t recognize your mate’s voice?"

And just like that, it clicks. A smile tugs at Peem’s lips.

"Really? Where did my mate get my number?"

"Tan" Phum says, short and to the point.

Peem lets out a laugh, shaking his head.

"So that’s it? You’re really not going to say more than one word?"

"Peem"

Phum says in a firm tone. Peem can already imagine the frown on omega’s face, and the thought makes him chuckle.

"What about you? Are you coming?"

"I asked the question first."

"That was my answer."

"Peem" Phum sighs. He knows Peem is messing with him.

"What? I'll come if you come."

Across from him, Q raises an eyebrow, but Peem ignores it. He already knows that by the way he’s talking, Q has figured out who’s on the other end of the call. It’s not surprising—especially after last night’s conversation.

Well, Peem had to do it.

When Phum ran away from him at the canteen, he walked into class holding a matcha and an iced americano. Without a word, he placed the matcha in front of Q and, while making direct eye contact, took a sip of the Americano.

Q stared at him like he had just grown two horns.

Peem took another sip.

Q blinked. Then blinked again. His expression shifted from confusion to suspicion in real time.

"Wait. Hold on. That’s an iced Americano."

Peem hummed in response, tapping his fingers against the cup.

"You hate Americanos"

"Do I?" 

That’s all it took for Q. He said he’d had enough bullshit from Peem and that Peem better tell him what was going on. And Peem, well, he actually told him.

"Phum?" Peem glances at his phone, making sure Phum hasn’t already hung up. But no, he’s still there, so Peem waits.

"I’m coming" Phum says.

"Then that’s it. See you on Saturday." Peem ends the call and returns to his painting, getting lost in the strokes once again.

"I'll come if you come" Q singsongs with a smirk.

"Q" Peem warns, his tone sharp.

"Then that's it. See you on Saturday." Q mimics Peem’s voice, making a kissy face while tapping under Peem’s chin.

"You better stop that" Peem says, brushing his best friend's hand away. Q smirks.

"You said you two are at the talking stage. Are you sure about that?" Q asks, focusing on his painting.

"Of course."

"It’s just fun to tease him, that’s all."

Q raises an eyebrow at Peem’s words but doesn’t comment.

Fang, Tan, Mick, and Beer arrived at the amusement park, the late afternoon sun casting a golden glow over the spinning rides and cotton candy stalls. The scent of popcorn drifted in the air, kids ran past laughing, and cheerful music played somewhere in the background. But Peem’s gang still hadn’t shown up.

Phum glanced around, a bit lost.

“Why suddenly an amusement park?” he asked, stepping closer to Tan.

“We’re just helping Toey?” Tan answered casually, as if that explained everything.

“Toey?” Fang echoed, tilting his head.

“He likes Q.”

“HUH??” Phum and Fang exclaimed at the same time, wide eyed.

Tan looked at them like they were the clueless ones.

“Why are you guys so surprised? He’s liked Q for a long time.”

Phum blinked. Fang looked like he was buffering. Beer squinted at the rollercoaster in the distance.

“So how is this helping Toey?”

“We’re just... arranging a date for them?” Tan said, a little too confidently, like it was the most obvious plan in the world.

“Who are you arranging a date for?”

Q’s voice cut in from right behind Tan, making him freeze mid step.

“E-ehh... for Peem and Phum,” Tan blurted out, trying to recover.

Peem and Phum both snapped their heads toward him, shooting glares as their cheeks went red almost instantly.

Q squinted at Tan with a suspicious look, clearly not buying it, but after a pause, he let it go without pushing further.

The group merges naturally, strolling through the colorful paths of the park, the chaos of teens blending into the lively crowd. They stop at a small shop truck set up near the ferris wheel. The stand is covered in glittery headbands, novelty sunglasses, and plush animal hats.

Pun and Chain go straight for the sunglasses, striking overly dramatic poses at each other and making the others laugh.

Phum wanders a little closer to the rack and picks out a headband with soft black cat ears. Without warning, he turns to Peem and gently places it on his head.

Peem flinches slightly, surprised. “What are you doing?”

“This suits you,” Phum says with a teasing glint in his eyes.

“Oh really? So I’m a cat now?” Peem raises a brow, playing along.

Phum nods, his grin unapologetic.

Peem chuckles, then reaches over for a headband with soft beige puppy ears and places it on Phum’s head. He leans in just enough to tap his cheek. 

“Whatever you say, puppy Phum.”

Phum flushes instantly, but he doesn’t move away. His fingers brush the headband as if adjusting it, but really, he just wants to hide his smile.

Behind them, Toey’s watching the whole interaction. Q notices, leans closer to him.

“You want a headband too?”

Toey jumps slightly. “What? No— I mean, yes. I mean… maybe.”

Q picks one with sparkly devil horns and dangles it in front of him. 

“This one suits you.”

Toey starts to whine. “P'Q, are you calling me evil?”

Q shrugs. “Just a little mischievous.”

Tan watches them from a few feet away, hiding a smug smile behind his soda.

Everyone strolls deeper into the park, weaving through the crowds and flashing lights. It doesn’t take long before they stop in front of the towering pirate ship ride. The ship swings back and forth, higher and higher, screams filling the air every time it reaches the top.

“Let’s ride that!” Toey says, pointing with way too much excitement.

Beer immediately nods. “Looks fun.”

But when Peem glances up at the ship tilting almost vertical, a cold sweat creeps down his back. Beside him, Q looks just as pale, gripping the straps of his bag a little tighter.

“Oh my god,” Peem mutters under his breath.

Phum notices and grabs his wrist. “It’s okay, we can pass if you’re afraid,” he says with a smirk.

The mockery doesn’t go unnoticed.

“Who’s afraid? I’m not,” Peem fires back quickly, trying his best to act unbothered.

The group piles into the line, laughter bubbling among them. They board the ride as pairs. Pun and Chain get on first, then Fang and Tan, then Q and Toey. When Q settles into the ship, Peem watches him quietly, a pang of concern tugging at his chest. He knows better than anyone how much Q fears these kinds of rides.

Then it begins.

The ship swings higher, climbing into the sky before plunging back down. Peem regrets all his life choices almost immediately. He clutches the safety bar with a death grip, knuckles turning white. Across from him, Q’s eyes are squeezed shut, his face pale, his hands gripping so tight it looks painful.

Meanwhile, Phum throws his head back laughing, completely at ease as the wind rips through their hair.

When the ride finally slows, Peem feels like he can breathe again.

Tan, who had looked thrilled earlier, stumbles off like a corpse, barely able to stand without Fang holding onto him. 

“I think my soul left around the third swing,” he mumbles.

“I’m never doing that again,” Q groans, wiping his forehead dramatically.

But before anyone can tease him, Toey slips an arm through Q’s and pulls him forward. “Let’s go on that one!” he says brightly, pointing at a massive rollercoaster twisting above them.

Q’s mouth opens to protest—but then he sees the excitement in Toey’s eyes. And just like that, he nods.

Peem stares, stunned. He knows how scared Q is of heights. And yet, here he is, letting Toey drag him right to the front of the line.

“How much do you like him man,” Peem mutters, almost in awe, watching his best friend trail after Toey like a puppy.

Beside him, Phum lets out a small laugh.

“Will you also go with me if I ask?”

Peem turns to look at him. His heart stutters for a second. He loves his life, he really does, but something about saying no to Phum feels... wrong. He’s not sure what this is—this feeling. It’s not love—not yet.

Maybe it’s just the comfort of familiarity. Maybe it’s something more. All he knows is he loves it when Phum looks at him. He loves it when Phum talks to him. He loves it when Phum searches the crowd with that lost look in his eyes, and only relaxes when he finds Peem.

“Yeah,” Peem says softly.

“What do you wanna ride next?”

Phum blinks, caught off guard by the answer. His brain stutters, replaying the words in his head. His cheeks start to warm up.

Without saying anything, he grabs Peem’s wrist and tugs him forward. “Let me show you.”

Phum doesn’t let go of Peem’s wrist as they walk through the colorful chaos of the amusement park. The sounds of laughter, spinning rides, and cheerful music blur into the background as Peem follows him, still slightly stunned by his own answer.

They pass the rollercoaster Q and Toey just boarded, catching a glimpse of Q mid scream as it shoots down a steep drop. Peem chuckles softly. 

“He’s so doomed.”

Phum grins. “At least he’s dying for love.”

Peem snorts, nudging Phum lightly with his shoulder.

“So is that what you’re dragging me toward? A romantic death?”

“No,” Phum says simply. “Cotton candy.”

They stop at a nearby stall and buy one big swirl of blue and pink. Phum holds it like a trophy, offering the first bite to Peem. They were a little far away from their gang now. Above them, the sky burned with the warm hues of sunset, casting a soft glow on everything.

“Try it. It’s sugar flavored air.”

Peem takes a bite, lips brushing against the cloud of sweetness.

“Mm. Childhood on a stick.”

They wander through the park, sharing bites of cotton candy and bumping shoulders, even though they’re still not used to being this close. It feels nice.

It doesn’t take long before they end up in front of a shooting game booth—the kind with fake cans stacked and toy rifles lined up neatly.

“I suck at these,” Peem says, eyeing the prizes.

“I don’t,” Phum replies, already stepping up. “I play shooting games all the time with Beer and Mick at home.”

Peem raises a brow. “That’s so unfair. You’ve never even been to an amusement park before.”

“Doesn’t matter. Skill’s transferable,” Phum says with a smug grin as he lines up a shot.

Phum knocks down every single can in one go. Twice. Then he casually hands the fluffy prize he wins—a chubby plush brown puppy—over to Peem.

“For you,” he says, too nonchalantly.

Peem blinks. “What am I, a six year old girl?”

“You didn’t say no.”

Peem hugs the puppy to his chest. “Shut up.”

Their wandering eventually brings them to one of those old photo booths with cheesy filters and sparkly borders. Peem rolls his eyes, but Phum is already stuffing coins in and pulling the curtain shut behind them with a smug look.

“Pose,” Phum orders.

Peem sighs, but they end up making the dumbest faces, laughing between flashes. One picture comes out perfectly blurry because Peem’s in the middle of trying to slap Phum for poking his cheek.

When they step out, breathless from laughing, a soft, sweet scent hits Peem—bright and warm, like a sudden breeze through flowers and sunlit fruit.

it's Phum.

That always happens when he’s happy. It’s one of the most adorable things about him, how his scent just drifts out like a secret he can’t keep.

Peem glances at him, wondering how the smallest things make him light up like this.

“It’s not my fault they have stupid borders,” Phum defends himself, still grinning.

Peem looks around for what to do next, and that’s when he notices a little jewelry cart nearby. A bunch of cheap trinkets and souvenirs hang under fairy lights. What catches his eye is a set of matching braided string bracelets—simple, with a little tag attached “Found you”

Phum notices what he’s looking at.

“You want one?” he asks.

Peem shrugs. “It’s kinda cheesy.”

Phum picks one up anyway and asks if they can customize it. He spends way too long trying to find something engineering-related, but all he can find is a tiny puppy pendant. 

The seller offers him a paintbrush charm easily enough, and Phum asks them to hang each pendant on different bracelets.

Then, turning to Peem, he holds out the one with the puppy.

“It’s cheesy,” he agrees.

“But it’s kinda us, too.”

Peem stares at it, then at Phum. That feeling—whatever it is, comes back, warm and strong. And without another word, he slips it on.

Their wrists brush as they both adjust the knots. Matching. Quietly connected.

“Don’t lose it,” Phum says.

“I won’t,” Peem replies, and he means it.

Then he looks down at the puppy plush in his hands.

“I got a lot of you today,” Peem says, smiling.

“Let’s go find the others.” Phum nods.

They make their way back toward the main plaza, the sky now fully dark, lit up by string lights and the neon glow of rides. The rest of their friends are already regrouping near a popcorn stall, most of them either exhausted or buzzing from adrenaline.

Pun waves when he sees them. 

“There you are! Took your sweet time, huh?”

Peem shrugs, subtly adjusting the bracelet on his wrist. Phum chuckles beside him, but before anyone can pry, Pun claps his hands together. 

“Okay, okay, listen up! I’ve got something to say.”

Everyone quiets down—partly because of Pun’s tone, and partly because Tan is already elbow deep in the popcorn and nobody wants to risk interrupting him.

“So,” Pun begins, trying and failing to sound casual, “next month, there’s a weekend camp happening. It’s organized by our faculty, and I’m the leader.”

Everyone bursts out laughing.

“Wait—you’re the leader?” Tan says through a mouthful of popcorn. 

“Is your faculty okay?”

“Why do you think I can’t do it?” Pun huffs, crossing his arms.

“Okay, okay, go on,” Q says, still chuckling.

“We’re going to a rural school in a village,” Pun continues. “We’ll help repair parts of the building, and spend time with the students—play with them, maybe do a little teaching.”

“That’s actually sweet,” Mick says sincerely.

“Exactly, my friend. You understand me,” Pun says, giving Mick a dramatic high five.

“Anyway, I want you all to come,” he adds.

“Why do we have to come?” Peem raises an eyebrow.

“Because you’re my friends,” Pun replies, giving them all a hopeful look. “You have to be by my side. Also… we kinda need the crowd.”

“And it’ll be fun,” he insists quickly.

“I really want us to do this together.”

Toey smiles. “I’m in.”

“Count me too,” Chain adds with a quiet nod.

One by one, the others begin to mumble their agreement—some more reluctantly than others. Phum turns to Peem.

“You in?”

Peem rolls his eyes. “Yeah, why not. It’s for a good cause, right?”

Phum grins. “Alright. Me too.”

Pun’s whole face lights up. “Yes! Thank you, guys! I’ll send the forms later. And… also help me post the banners and collect the donation books guys”

Everyone groans in perfect unison.

As everyone starts gathering to leave, Toey suddenly tugs Q’s sleeve.

“Wanna go inside the haunted house with me?” he asks, his usual sunshine smile a bit too nervous to be casual.

Q pauses. “You hate those.”

“I know. But Toey wants to go. With P'Q.”

Something in Toey’s tone makes the others fall quiet. Q studies him for a beat, then shrugs like it’s no big deal.

“Alright. Let’s go.”

Pun is the first to catch on. “Take your time,” he says, elbowing Chain.

Tan smirks. “We’ll wait right here.”

No one says anything more. They just watch the two disappear behind the fluttering black curtains, swallowed by shadows.

Inside, it’s darker than it looked from outside. Cheap fog machines hiss, lights flicker, and mannequins dressed as ghosts lean from corners. Toey clings tightly to Q’s arm—like a scared little koala, fingers curled into Q’s sleeve.

“P'Q,” he says, voice barely above the haunting soundtrack playing through hidden speakers. His eyes dart nervously around, wide and shiny, like he’s more terrified of what he’s about to say than the fake ghosts.

Q glances down at him. “If you’re afraid, why did you want to come in here?”

Toey swallows. “Because I wanted to be alone with you.”

They stop walking. One of the flickering lights overhead buzzes softly.

Q raises an eyebrow, half amused. “You dragged me into a haunted house just to be alone with me?”

Toey’s cheeks flush pink. He lets out a small huff and pouts.

“I didn’t know how else to separate us from the gang,” he mumbles, not meeting Q’s eyes. His hand still hasn’t let go of Q’s arm.

Q chuckles quietly, the sound echoing faintly off the fake brick walls.

“Okay. So… why did you want to be alone?”

Toey takes a breath, then another. He fiddles with the hem of his sleeve, eyes on the ground, toes of his sneakers nudging each other.

“I have to say something,” he says, voice shaking just slightly. “Please don’t hate me after this, okay?”

Q nods, now watching him a little more closely.

Toey finally lifts his gaze. His usual sunshine smile is gone, replaced with something softer—vulnerable.

“I like you" Toey says, closing his eyes shut. 

"Like… more than just liking. I don’t know when it started, maybe it was always there. But I know it’s real. And Toey wanted you to know.”

Q stays quiet.

Toey opens his eyes as he panics a little. His hands twist together, knuckles white.

“Maybe we’re not soulmates. I know I still have a year to find out. But even if we’re not, even if I meet my soulmate someday… you’ll still be the one for me. I promise. I’m sorry, Toey couldn’t keep it in anymore.”

His voice trembles at the end, and he blinks rapidly—like he's trying not to cry.

Q is silent for a beat longer, then finally speaks, gentle.

“Toey… can I have a little bit of time before I say anything back?”

Toey’s shoulders drop in relief, and his whole face lights up again.

“Yes, P’Q,” he says, nodding enthusiastically.

“Take your time. As long as you want. Toey can wait.” His smile returns, bright and warm, like sunlight breaking through fog.

Q exhales, something loosening in his chest.

“So—” 

“So?” 

“Since you didn’t reject me… can I hit on you, P’Q?” Toey asks with a grin.

Q has to look away, covering his mouth to hide a smile. A faint blush colors his cheeks.

“…Yes.”

Outside, Peem leans toward Phum. “They’ve been in there for a while.”

Phum shrugs. “Guess it went well.”

“Or Toey fainted,” Tan suggests. “You never know.”

Pun’s already planning how to pry the full story out of Toey later. But for now, no one moves.

Not until two figures finally step out—Q slightly red in the face.

They say nothing. So the gang pretends nothing happened, quietly making their way home without a single question.

Chapter Text

The faculty’s art exhibition is buzzing with people. Tan and Pun stand at the entrance, each holding flower bouquets for their beloved friends. As they step inside, they spot the rest of the gang already gathered—Peem, Q, and Toey standing near two canvases that draw the crowd’s gaze.

Colorful artworks line the walls, sculptures rest gracefully in spotlighted corners, and soft classical music hums through the air. Students and visitors weave through the space, murmuring appreciations and snapping photos.

Peem’s canvas—an abstract swirl of calm blues and white—resembles waves lapping a quiet shore. Q’s piece, in contrast, is colder, harsh grays, thick strokes of black ink, and a single, jagged slash of electric blue cutting through it like lightning through smoke.

Their names are printed in bold black beneath each work.

“Ho ho! My dear friends,” Tan chimes as they approach. “Even your artworks are side by side.”

Peem laughs as Tan hands him the bouquet.

“Are you going to give us flowers every time there’s an exhibition?”

“But these two works deserve flowers,” Chain says, plucking the bouquet from Pun’s hands and offering it to Q. Q gives him a quiet nod, lips tugging into a rare, soft smile.

They decide to split up and wander through the exhibit. The gang roams the hall, hands in pockets or behind backs, pretending to recognize brush techniques and artistic eras.

“Toey,” Q warns, nudging him slightly, “don’t touch the sculpture.”

“I was just learning,” Toey says, lying badly, his hand barely an inch from a marble curve. He gives Q a guilty grin, trying to look innocent.

Pun eyes the two of them from across the hall.

“Something definitely happened,” he mumbles to himself, watching how close Q and Toey are standing.

Eventually, they all drift back to Peem and Q’s artworks, still drawing attention. Everything’s going smoothly—until trouble walks in.

A small group of older alphas swagger into the room. They’re not faculty, not students—maybe former seniors, or just overconfident strangers who slipped in. One of them stops in front of Q’s piece, lips curling.

“This one?” he says loudly, scoffing. 

“Looks like someone spilled ink and cried on it.”

The others snicker.

Peem stiffens, taking a step forward, but Q grabs his sleeve.

“Peem,” he says firmly.

“Bet it’s an omega’s work,” the guy adds, smirking. 

“Pathetic. Just like them.”

That snaps something in Q.

“What is your problem?” Q steps forward now, standing in front of his own art.

The group sizes him up—tall, lean, with quiet rage simmering under his calm face. They laugh again, nastier this time.

“I guess this is the pathetic omega,” one of them sneers.

Toey ’s jaw tightens.

“Is that supposed to be funny?” he says coldly. 

The alpha smirks. “Oh? Got a problem, little buddy? This slut’s got so many protectors—makes me wonder what he’s giving them.”

That’s when Peem starts moving, eyes blazing.

But before he reacts, Toey comes forward.

The punch lands hard—louder than the music. One clean hit to the jaw sends the alpha stumbling backward, crashing into a pedestal. The sculpture wobbles but doesn’t fall.

Gasps fill the gallery. The room freezes.

Toey stands with his fist still clenched, chest heaving, his usual grin gone—replaced by pure fury.

“You don’t get to talk about him like that!” he yells, voice echoing across the silent hall.

“Toey, calm down!” Q rushes to him, grabbing his arm.

“Say sorry to him,” Peem says coldly, stepping forward.

His scent floods the room—sharp, suffocating, filled with restrained rage. Even the air feels heavy.

The alphas’ confidence collapses instantly. Their eyes widen. One of them stammers out a choked apology, followed quickly by the others. Heads lowered, they scramble to leave, bumping into each other as they go.

Peem shakes his head, disgusted, and storms out of the exhibition without a word.

Phum glances at Q, uncertain.

Q meets his eyes, still holding Toey’s wrist.

“Go to the bridge in the park near the university,” he says quietly.

Phum nods, understanding.

“Fang,” he turns, “can you go home with Tan?”

Fang nods, shooting a glare toward the retreating alphas that could’ve frozen fire. They vanish from sight.

The tension lingers, even after the noise dies down.

Q gently tugs Toey out of the crowd, his hand still holding on. Q doesn’t let go of Toey’s wrist the entire walk to the canteen—not even while buying two cold drinks.

Toey tries to mumble something along the way, but Q shoots him the look. That’s all it takes to shut him up.

“Sit,” Q orders, pointing at a bench like he’s scolding a very guilty puppy.

Toey obeys instantly, dropping into the seat with wide eyes and tense shoulders.

Q doesn’t sit across from him. He sits beside him, close enough their knees brush.

“Toey, you—”

“P’Q, don’t say anything,” Toey cuts in, voice rising with emotion. 

“They were talking bad about your painting. About you. I couldn’t just stand there! I won’t let anyone say stuff like that to you—”

Q presses a gentle finger to his lips, shushing him softly.

“Toey,” he says calmly, “just because someone says something doesn’t mean it breaks me. We both know they’re just arrogant alphas. And if I wanted to get back at them, I could. But that doesn’t mean we respond with fists.”

“But I wanted to punch them,” Toey huffs, arms crossed tightly. 

“If I could, I’d do it again. Harder this time.”

Q lightly smacks Toey’s head with a sigh and a small grin.

“I know you can punch. The whole faculty knows now.” He nudges Toey’s shoulder playfully. 

“But I don’t like people who choose violence first to solve things.”

Toey blinks up at him. The mood shifts like a soft breeze.

“W–What do you mean, P’Q?” he asks, voice quieter, almost shy.

Q doesn’t answer right away. He leans in and presses a soft kiss to Toey’s left cheek. It’s slow. It’s gentle. And it makes Toey freeze completely.

When Q pulls back, there’s a smile on his lips.

“I like you too.”

Toey doesn’t move.

“I was going to wait a year,” Q continues, “because I wasn’t sure what you believed about soulmates. But then you told me… if I wasn’t your soulmate, you’d make me.”

Toey’s eyes well up instantly.

Without a second thought, he lunges forward, throwing his arms around Q and hugging him like he never wants to let go. Q almost drops his drink.

“P’Q! I’m so happy! Thank you so much.”

Q laughs, leaning into the hug, his voice teasing.

“Are you crying?”

"I’m not,” Toey sniffs stubbornly, even as he holds on tighter.

“You’re just warm.”

Then, with eyes shining, Toey pulls back just enough to look at him.

“So… are we boyfriends now?” he asks with a cheeky grin.

Q nods. “Yeah. We are.”

The park is quieter. Streetlamps flicker on one by one, casting soft golden halos onto the empty path. Crickets begin their evening chorus, and the air is cool, with a faint breeze brushing the surface of the water.

Phum spots Peem on the bridge—leaning over the railing, head down, watching the calm waves drift beneath him. His fingers grip the edge so tightly that his knuckles are pale.

Peem doesn’t turn when he hears the footsteps. He doesn’t speak.

Phum stops a few steps away.

“Q said you’d be here,” he says gently.

“If Q wasn’t there to tell you where I am,” Peem replies without looking up, “remember I’m always somewhere near the water.”

Phum takes that as permission. Because until now, Phum wasn’t sure Peem wants him here.

He approaches slowly, stopping beside him but keeping a bit of space. He waits.

Peem finally speaks, his voice low and hoarse. “I should’ve done something.”

“You were going to,” Phum says softly.

“But Q stopped you.”

Peem shakes his head. “That’s not the point.”

He finally turns. His eyes are glassy, his jaw clenched.

“I just stood there. Again. Watching someone I care about get torn down.”

Phum wants to say something, but nothing comes. So he stays quiet.

“Wanna hear a story?” Peem asks. Phum nods. he's glad Peem is speaking.

“When I was a kid, I had an older brother. Not by blood—he was my cousin—but we were as close as real siblings. I followed him everywhere. We ate together, played together. I even cried once because I wanted to be in the same class as him, even though he was older. I was too young to understand why that wasn’t possible.”

Phum doesn’t interrupt. He waits.

“One evening, when I was in fifth grade, we went for a bicycle ride. The route we took wasn’t familiar, but I wasn’t scared—Phi was leading. My hometown’s full of mountains and steep slopes. At one point, Phi hit a rock and lost control. He fell down the slope, but managed to cling to a rock and called out for help. I panicked. I-i was too young. I didn’t know what to do. I just screamed. When I finally tried to grab his hand, it was too late. He lost his grip and fell.”

Peem’s voice cracks, and tears fall freely down his cheeks. It’s unbearable for Phum to watch.

“I didn’t even know how to get home. I just sat there and cried, staring at his bike, until our parents found us. That moment left a deep scar in my life. I had to get therapy. My parents sent me here to live with my aunt. After that, I’ve been afraid of bikes. Afraid of heights. And most of all, I hate feeling helpless when someone needs me.”

“Peem,” Phum says, and Peem looks up at him.

“If Toey hadn’t stepped in, I know you would’ve done something. Q knew that too. That’s why he told me where to find you. If it hadn’t been about Toey, he probably would've come himse—”

“I’m glad it was you,” Peem cuts him off, looking directly into Phum’s eyes.

Phum’s chest tightens. To know that he could be Peem’s safe place… it’s a feeling he can’t put into words.

He steps closer. Peem doesn’t move away. He just waits. Phum slowly wraps an arm around his shoulders, sighing in relief when Peem hugs him back.

“Peem… I’ve never done this before. I’m not good with words. But I know Q didn’t need someone to throw a punch today. He needed someone to see him. And you always have. From the beginning, you’ve always been there for him, even in the small moments.”

“That moment today—it wasn’t your fault. Just like in the past, it wasn’t your fault either. You did everything you could. And I know, if it happened again, you’d do even more.”

Peem trembles in his arms, and Phum holds him tighter.

“If you’re thinking you failed Q—you didn’t, Peem. He just needs you. And he knows you’re always there.”

Peem’s lips tremble. “ but I don’t know if I’m enough.”

“You are,” Phum says simply. “You always have been.”

Peem takes a sharp breath, like he’s been underwater this whole time and finally came up for air.

They stand there for a while as the evening deepens around them. Phum lets Peem to cry as much as he wants. Eventually, Peem pulls back, wiping his tears, looking at Phum.

Phum gently places a palm on Peem’s cheek. “Do you feel better now?” His eyes are full of care.

Peem smiles softly, leaning into his touch like a kitten, and nods. Phum finally smiles too.

“Try not to cry again. It’s hard for me to watch,” Phum says honestly, making Peem pause.

He sees how sincere Phum is. Knowing he made Phum worry makes him feel even worse.

He wraps his arms around Phum’s waist and slowly leans in. Phum watches every movement. Peem softly presses a kiss to the apple of Phum’s cheek, lingering there, feeling the warmth of his skin.

Phum grips Peem’s biceps gently. His face is burning red when Peem pulls back. Peem almost leans in again. It feels unfair. He wants to kiss every inch of Phum’s face. He doesn’t know why he’s growing so greedy for him lately. That little mole under Phum’s right eye doesn’t help either.

Peem looks away. It’s too much to handle.

“Can I drive you home?” Phum asks.

Peem nods.

As soon as they get into the car, Phum quietly asks for his address, and Peem tells him. The entire ride is silent—no words, just the low hum of the engine filling the space between them.

Peem steals a few side glances at Phum, trying to read his face. But there’s not much to see. Phum’s expression is calm—maybe too calm—like he’s holding something back. It makes Peem’s chest feel tight.

When Phum pulls up in front of Peem’s house, the car rolls to a stop. Peem unclicks his seatbelt but doesn’t reach for the door yet. Instead, he turns to look at Phum.

“Phum… thank you,” he says softly.

“For everything you did today. And I’m sorry for making you worry.”

Phum gives a small smile. “It’s okay. Get some rest."

Silence settles over them again. Phum doesn’t say anything, just waits for Peem to get out. But Peem doesn’t move. He shifts a little in his seat, fingers fidgeting with the edge of his white shirt, looking nervous.

Then he speaks again, this time not meeting Phum’s eyes.

“When I kissed you… in the park,” he says slowly, “was that… okay?”

Phum is caught off guard. His whole body heats up again, but somehow, he finds the courage to nod.

“Yeah. It was okay.”

That makes Peem look at him again. There’s something soft in his eyes—something searching.

He reaches out, gently taking one of Phum’s hands in his own.

“If I wanted to… could I do it again?”

Phum swallows hard. His other hand tightens slightly on the steering wheel. Words don’t come, so he just nods.

Peem gently caresses the back of Phum’s palm with his thumb. “Can I… do that right now?”

Phum barely breathes. “Yeah,” he mutters.

Peem leans in slowly. His lips brush against Phum’s left cheek in the softest kiss. He lingers for a moment, then pulls back and whispers,

“Good night, Phum.”

Phum meets his gaze, heart thudding so loud he’s sure it’s echoing.

“Good night, Peem.”

Neither of them moves. They just stare at each other. Peem’s eyes are so dark, so close.

Then, suddenly, Peem pulls back and opens the car door.

“Text me when you get home,” he says, stepping out. He gives one final wave before slipping through the gate.

Phum watches until the door closes behind him—and only then exhales, like he’s been holding his breath the whole time.

Peem notices a text from Phum when he comes back from the bathroom. But instead of reading it, he dials his number.

Phum picks up on the second ring.

“Hey,” he says, voice soft. “You didn’t read my text?”

Peem sits down on his bed. “Are you home?”

Phum chuckles lightly. “Yeah. I told you in the text.”

“So I can’t call you?” Peem asks, raising an eyebrow even though Phum can’t see it.

“I didn’t say anything like that,” Phum says, still laughing softly.

“I just wanted to hear your voice,” Peem murmurs, his voice quieter now.

“Is it too much? Wait, I already kissed you on the cheek, so I don’t think this is too much,” he adds with a smirk in his tone.

Phum can almost picture Peem’s face—tired, smug, and probably wearing that cocky smile that makes his chest flutter.

“Peem,” Phum warns, voice low and embarrassed. Peem bursts into laughter.

“What? Are you shy, puppy Phum?” he teases, not bothering to hold back.

Phum groans softly. “Aren’t you getting a little too comfortable with me?”

“Maybe I am,” Peem says, still grinning.

Then his voice softens again.

“Phum… thank you. Thank you for being with me. For agreeing to give this a try. To give us a try. Even when you didn’t believe in it.”

There’s a pause.

Then, quietly, Phum says, “I think I kind of believe in it now.”

Peem blinks. His breath hitches.

“And it’s all because of you,” Phum adds, voice barely above a whisper.

Peem doesn’t breathe for a second.

“Ugh, Phum… don’t say things like that when I can’t see you.”

Phum chuckles again. “Why? I didn’t lie.”

“Will you come to the canteen tomorrow?” Peem asks. He knows he sounds desperate–because he is.

“Can I pick you up instead?” Phum offers.

Peem raises an eyebrow. “Do you live anywhere near me?”

“I can come, Peem. Please.”

That last word makes Peem freeze again. He doesn’t dare say no to Phum when he sounds like that.

“…Okay,” Peem finally says.

“Good,” Phum hums.

“Now go to sleep. I’ll wait until you do.”

“What?” Peem asks, heat creeping up his neck.

“Aren’t you tired? You’ve got class tomorrow. Go to sleep. I’m here with you.”

Peem huffs, turning onto his side. “Who are you? My boyfriend?”

“Mmm… future boyfriend, maybe.”

Peem buries his face into his pillow for a second, trying to hide the stupid smile on his face. His fingers brush against the bracelet on his wrist—Phum’s bracelet—before he closes his eyes, the phone still pressed to his ear, heart light and full in a way he hasn’t felt in a long time.