Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Chapter 1 

Tan’s Pov: 

Just like on any Saturday night, the bar is buzzing with guests. Other people would probably find this all overwhelming, or suffocating, or perhaps just annoying. Then again, other people wouldn’t have chosen the job he chose. Okay, it might not have been the first place of ‘dream jobs’, but it took him surprisingly little to get comfortable with his coworkers, the tasks at hand, and the environment surrounding him. In fact, he began enjoying it fairly quickly. Ever the extrovert, it was an easy way to chat with people and not get too involved, while still taking note of all the customer’s dramas. He also has way too much fun mixing all kinds of cocktails - from traditional, to experimental, to purely dangerous. 

However, the biggest factor on weekends is him. 

The live band that always plays, and its incredibly handsome lead singer. Or rather, the lead singer with the incredibly handsome voice and remarkable capability to draw people in with it. The appearance remains a mystery to everyone, considering he hides it under a mask and always wears the same outfit. Tan, though, figures that if he looks how he sounds, he must resemble a Greek god or something. Each Friday and Saturday night, he gets blessed for over an hour at exactly midnight. And during those sets, he tends to prefer not to be talked to, oftentimes leaving his close friend, Peem, with whom he shares most shifts, to take over so he can disappear into the crowd and get the full experience - and maybe, a closer glance at the beauty that certainly has to be behind the mask. Nonchalantly, he casts his eyes to the clock.

Five minutes left.

Peem has called in sick today, so he has to manage alone. Which means he also has to stay right where he is. Ergo, no daydreaming about the moment where their eyes would meet, and magically grant Tan the gateway into his soul. Shaking his head, he almost grimaces at that imagination. His brain really has to get it together. It’s nothing more than a mere crush. An idealization. He’s envious of his skills, nothing more. And still - he can’t shake the feeling of wanting to find out more. Not that he knows anything, for starters. He doesn’t know the face, or age, or what he does in his part time - besides melting hearts, that is. He doesn’t even know the guy’s name, the frontman goes by an alias:

Daisy. 

Surprisingly, Tan's favorite flower. 

Unsurprisingly, he doesn't know the reason behind that. 

Thankfully, it seems like most of the visitors are equally as excited as Tan for the impending concert, so the bar stays mostly stranded, giving him the opportunity to observe them setting everything up. Admittedly, he’s very familiar with both the process and the visual of said process, but there’s something rather fascinating about how meticulous and diligent he examines the boxes and instruments, and how delicate he treats his microphone, as if it’s the most fragile and expensive item he owns - since Tan has no idea what Daisy’s life outside this establishment looks like, it might be. Who knows. 

Tan doesn’t. 

“If you stare any harder, your eyes might fall out”

Startled, he flinches away from the countertop, where he rested his elbows on, and glares at the person whose voice somehow, even among all the noise, is prominent enough to get through him. 

“Huh?”

His sister, who’s now cackling, spins on one of the stools carelessly.

“That’s what mum always says”

She briefly throws her hair over her shoulder as she leans in further. 

“But seriously, stop staring. It’s creepy”

With an eye roll, he grabs one of the towels from the rack to dry a glass.

“Everybody stares. That’s sort of the point of a stage” 

“Not like that. It’s - you’re like… undressing him with your eyes”

Letting out a frustrated groan, he slaps her with it. 

“Shut up”

He decides it’s probably better to simply ignore her, and dedicates his entire focus to the glasses left to be put away. 

“Besides, it’s not like you’re any better. You’re definitely the bigger fan here”

“Never denied it”

It’s irritating, truly, that only judging from her cadence, he can discern her amusement without having to look up. 

“On all levels except romantically, I’m attracted to that man”

That comment, however, he didn’t expect, therefore almost drops the one he’s holding. 

“Also sexually”

Contemplating that he won’t get far before one of those shatters on the ground and prolongs his cleaning duties, he instead concentrates once again on the front - with the mental excuse that he’s just watching out for clients coming his way. 

“Sexually, I’m not attracted to anyone, so that doesn’t count” 

As he watches him take a seat, he settles on drowning her out in favor of tuning in. He doesn’t greet the audience, he never does. And at this point, everyone who enters the club should know the evening program, so Daisy simply points at the box on the front left corner, where they can drop suggestions for him. He also never has a setlist, each week playing various kinds of songs, relying solely on his trusted followers. Sometimes, when the bar would throw one of their costume parties, or topical parties, Daisy would emphasize to only propose thematically appropriate ones. But Tan doesn’t care what he sings. Most of the time, he isn’t even certain he listens to the lyrics or has a clue which song of the dozens and hundredth is it. 

“You can ignore me, but you can’t ignore the huge crush you have” 

“Don’t you have any better place to be?”

Mary raises an eyebrow, unimpressed. 

“Let’s see: School? Closed. Hospital? Visiting hours are over. Home? Alone.”

Folding her finger one by one as she names them, she’s left at the end with her middle finger sticking out at Tan. 

“Nope. I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be. Bothering you” 

Escape arrives finally in the form of a girl approaching and ordering two Mojitos. 

As he makes the drinks, his mind drifts off anew. He wonders whether the short sentences he can perceive through the echo and slight distortion of the mic is Daisy’s genuine speaking voice, or if he adjusts it to remain totally anonymous. Promptly, he’s too eager to uncover that secret - like several others about him. Sadly, it appears as though his personality is just as mystic as the rest of him, as he constantly vanishes once he’s done, not to be seen again until next time. In moments like those, Tan ponders where he’s going, what he’s doing. To sum up: he thinks about him possibly more often than he should. Handing over her order, he subtly lets his gaze wander to the main act. 

“You’re pathetic” 

A snort to his right makes him perk up - and subsequently stalk away to the other end to distract himself. 

Pretending to stack the shot glasses, he allows himself to shut his eyes and ultimately relax a second. If his boss would see him, he might scold him for it. But, Tan would remind him that he also couldn't because Tan never slacks off, is their most reliable employee and well liked around here. Besides, this is the only one of his countless positions he has fun with, has the best schedule, and provides sufficient wages for now. Realizing that that technically means he's free to do whatever, he tilts his head with a satisfied smirk. A knock on the surface of the counter steers him back to the forefront, greeting his common customers smiling widely, yet internally hoping they won't stay long. It either stems from good manners or sincere indifference, but none of them have chatted to him about the subject - although he deems himself the opposite of subtlety. De facto, he's been observing so not subtly, if someone were to ask, he could draw an exact replica of Daisy,:

From the way his parted hair conceals even more of the already covert exterior, to his weekly fashion of black pants and graphic T-shirts (the punchline varies though), to tattoos running down his muscular forearms and even down to his posture and tiny mannerisms like always tapping his finger to the rhythm during ballads or gestures during more upbeat sections - yeah, Tan might've fallen deeper than he'd like to confess. Not quite there yet, but much too far to return. His regulars are sticking around and dropping some comments about the performance, but Tan pays little attention, laughing when they do, throwing a quip in here and there to avoid them asking any questions, and then - another thing that his Boss dislikes, but boosts his likeability (and tips) - gives them all a free shot before they depart and he's one again alone to wash up while striving not to get enchanted by the spell that's Daisy's voice. 

“Remind me again how long you had this incredibly pitiful, undeniably hilarious, yet unrequited crush?”

There goes his peace for the dozenth time this evening. He already imagined the downside - if you could call it that - to his job would be the number of visitors yelling their orders, complaining left and right, or telling him to hurry up. Alas, the negative side of things, no matter where, no matter when, remains his dear sibling. 

“Shouldn’t it be your anniversary?”

“It’s not been that long!”

He can’t believe that after years she still knows how to get under his skin, but that might just be her sister senses. Clearing his throat to regain his composure, he puts on his most charming smile. 

“He’s been singing here for longer than I’ve worked” 

But even with returning the equal amounts of annoyance, she doesn’t seem deterred. 

“So, it was meant to be, huh?”

“For the record” 

Folding his arms on the surface, he leans forward. 

“It’s not been long since I started… seeing him this way” 

“Ugh, spare me the details” 

“Like you weren’t his first and biggest fan”

He doesn’t even need to try to impersonate her - he’s perfected this to a tee. It’s his older brother senses. 

“Oh my god, have you seen him? We need to go to this bar, I’m sure you’ll love it~”

“I was right. I told you so”

She takes a big sip of the cocktail he’s thrown together for her - free of charge, of course, because either way she wouldn’t pay, informing him that it would be ‘inutile for the family business’. He couldn’t help but snort at that. 

Twenty more minutes pass before Tan dares to look his way again. He predicts to see him all immersed in his song, striving to entertain the crowd or giving his all into the emotional aspect. What he doesn't expect is to have a pair of eyes - the only perceptible feature - meet his own. The spotlight makes them shine - which leaves Tan to speculate which color they are. 

Then it hits him.

Tan can see his eyes from here. 

He's staring back at Tan.

Daisy is staring at him. 

He doesn't know how or why or what that means. But he's sure that look wasn't meant for anybody else. Another thing he’s sure about is the strange sensation in his stomach at that. 

Just like any other Saturday night, Daisy leaves at the end of the set without saying goodbye, simply disconnects the mic and the boxes as a signal, then turns around and disappears. Some people do try to swarm him, but he - and the bouncers - are always quicker to exit. 

And just like every Saturday night, he's left to imagine what he does while simultaneously trying to pretend he doesn't. Until 4 o'clock in the morning, where he finishes his touch ups, leaves the keys to the owner, rides his bike home and stumbles into bed, sleep overcoming him the second his back hits the mattress. 

Tonight, though. 

Tonight, he's sure he'll sleep the best he ever did. 

Chapter Text

Chapter 2 

On Monday morning, he still feels all giddy inside. He guesses it’s partly luck that the Bar is closed on Sundays, otherwise he might’ve had a big problem concentrating on his job. Not only does he think about Daisy all day and all night, pondering the what-ifs. But now, every time he closes his eyes, he remembers that moment. So, he figures he can add that to the list he knows about Daisy. 

Daisy knows he exists.

And isn’t that a crazy revelation. 

Not only have his efforts - it can’t be classified as stalking if they’re coincidentally in the same place at the same time - paid off, but this counts as clear evidence of it. Because besides Tan, Mary saw that stare too. 

He can practically hear his sister’s voice in his head, calling him out for being blindsided or love sick, and somewhere along the lines, there’s also an insult or two. And maybe he’s reaching, maybe this is partly wishful thinking, but his heart tells him otherwise - and sadly, Tan has always been more of a listen to your heart than listen to your head type of person. For some reason, he’s now more motivated than ever to increase his endeavours - he just has no idea how.  But just the pure idea that Daisy deliberately looked into his direction - looked at him, out of free will. That he searched for Tan in the crowd. He couldn’t have imagined that. It wasn't a simple coincidence - they locked eyes for more than a second. 

He’s promptly thrown out of his reverie by an elbow in his rib. 

“If you didn’t walk around everyday with a smile wider than the joker, I might start to be concerned” 

Grinning down at her, he shrugs unaffected as he practically skips towards the doors. 

“I’m in a good mood today”

“You’re always in a good mood”

Not at all deterred by her teasing - just per usual - he hums to himself, not giving a shit about the way she'll try to ruin his day (just per usual).

“I’m in an extra good mood. You wouldn’t understand” 

“Okay harsh” 

With a deep sigh, she shakes her head as she blows a loose strand of hair out of her forehead. 

“You need to calm down. He just looked at you. He didn’t propose to you in front of everyone”

“You know you would’ve reacted the same way” 

“Sure I would. And then understand he looks at everyone in the audience to avoid exactly that” 

She nudges him playfully. 

“Plus, with your luck, he probably couldn’t even see due to the bright lights”

“Why do you hate me so much?” 

“I’m just saying, logically -” 

She doesn’t get to finish that sentence, because Tan, having turned towards her to give her his full attention, doesn’t perceive the person running their way, effectively making them crash into each other. Papers scatter around, there’s a thud from somewhere, and Tan’s hands collide with the pavement first in a strive to catch himself. As he stands up, he goes to collect the lost sheets and hands them to the boy in front of him. 

“I'm sorry” 

But prior to even finishing that sentence, the guy has basically ripped them out of his hands and brushes past him in a whirlwind. 

“Oh -” 

A moment passes where Tan glances at the disappearing figure, then at the empty spot before him, and then at Mary, confused. 

“That was…”

“Rude? Weird?”

He’s still piecing together exactly how that encounter just went for him. If he’s even able to, taking into account it went by in a flash. 

“Unexpected” 

It takes a few seconds of ‘um’s and ‘hm’s - and another hit over the head - until he comes to an appropriate conclusion. 

“It looked like…he was running away from something not towards something”

Fastening the straps of her bag, she casts him a side eye and snorts noisily. 

“Are you going to psychoanalyse a stranger now?”

He shakes his head to get himself together again, but he still sees the image of what he caught at first glance - tousled hair, thick eyebrows, and golden frames. 

“Whatever. Let's go”

Fang’s Pov: 

He curses the universe. It’s bad enough to have an encounter like this - incredibly awkward and unforgettable. But then, it just had to be the handsome bartender who caught his eye from the very first day he spotted him. In his mind, he pictured their first meeting to be something special - or, at the very least, carefully planned out and maybe normal. However, after that, he’ll never be able to face him again. So much for the perfect moment. This will live in his head rent free for months, he’s sure of it - and it’s not even the good kind. God, now he’s determined more than ever to not let him discover his identity. Who would fall for the nerdy introvert that only embarrasses himself over and over instead of the cool, mysterious singer everybody knows but nobody knows anything about. He feels secure with his mask on, like he’s aware he can get away with more. This side of him is his own personal heaven, his sole sense of freedom. It's a strange thing for him. As much as he wants to pretend like Daisy is who he really is, it's still just a portion of him. Somehow, none of them and all of them combined is who Fang is - or who he thinks he is. In the daytime, he plays the role of Khaofang: Diligent, model student. Shy, reserved, boring. Future Doctor.

At nighttime, he’s Daisy: Mysterious, nonchalant. A voice. A persona. In full control. 

And yet - Daisy is Daisy. Khaofang is Khaofang. 

And Fang? He’s trapped in the space between. 

Twisting the doorknob, he pulls himself together before entering his personal hell - the house he lives in. He doesn’t want to come home, he never does. Early in the morning, he sneaks out and takes the long route, headphones in, pretending he’s anywhere else. Then at school, he throws himself into his classes, regardless if he enjoys it or not, because it requires his whole concentration. On Weekends, he does what he loves most in this world: music. And he gives it his all, so there’s no more room for trivial stuff. 

However, when he returns, there’s nothing left for him. Besides his thoughts, that is. 

“I’m home” 

“How was school? Did you get your grades?”

He hates nothing more than that sugary tone of his mother whenever he comes back. It only lasts as long as she speaks her first sentence. Because no matter what he retorts, it’ll be wrong. It’ll be disappointing. 

“No, we still didn’t”

There’s almost something comical about the fact he can observe her face fall, even from the distance. 

“Remember, if you get something less than an A-”

“‘you are a disgrAce’. I know”

He barely suppresses the urge to roll his eyes. 

“I hear it all the time”

Witnessing his mother lower the stirring spoon dangerously slowly, he regrets it instantly. 

“What did you say?”

“Nothing” 

Then she turns over her shoulder, and the expression on her face tells him all he needs to know to calculate the outcome of this conversation. 

“You want to be a smartass?”

She raises the utensil, and even if she’s never hit him before, he feels intimidated nonetheless. That’s so typical of his parents - he’s never good enough, even if he tries. 

“No dinner for you” 

“Mother-” 

“I don’t want to hear it. Go to your room”

“But -”

“Khaofang. To your room” 

Exhaling profoundly, climbing two steps at a time, he (mentally) slams the door shut. 

Tan’s Pov: 

The sun is already setting when he and Mary stroll through the white halls of the hospital. It smells like antiseptics and coffee from the cafeteria - a blend Tan has already gotten used to. At first, both him and his sister were not fond of this building. But the more time they spent there, the more familiar it became. The only thing to dislike is the reason why they’re even there in the first place. Pushing aside his own discomfort, he decides to focus on being the cheerful son he always is. 

“Someone ordered two children?”

Immediately upon arrival, he visibly sees his mother relax. She looks more vibrant and less pale than a few weeks ago when she first had to be brought here. She’s been sick for a while, and both him and Mary had to sacrifice a lot of free time for her recovery, but they’ve managed to get along. Until it got worse, and she had to be treated directly in the facility. The doctors told them she’s stable, and it doesn’t seem to be too bad for now, but that doesn’t mean they don’t pass by basically everyday. Just in case. 

“My babies”

Reaching out towards them, she pulls them into a loose hug, giving each of them a kiss on the head. 

“How are you?”

“Much better now that I see you” 

His mother’s smile - which she claims he’s inherited - widens further as she settles back into the pillows. 

“So, anything new in your life?”

That question is exactly the wrong one to ask. Apparently, the two of them also got their enthusiasm for gossip from her. He instantly casts Mary a warning glare - judging from the way her eyes narrow, however, he realizes it’s too late to intervene. 

“We’ve met someone. He’s pretty cute”

If he comments on that, positively or negatively, he’s going to get chewed out - and Mary knows just as well as he does that there’s nothing to tell. 

So, he switches strategies.

Distract.

Deflect. 

“That’s so weird that you focused on that” 

“I couldn’t really focus on anything else, you know”

Unimpressed, he raises an eyebrow at her. Responding with a half smirk - the same one they share - she shrugs. 

“Even a lesbian can appreciate a beautiful man” 

He rolls his eyes, but regardless of how precisely she phrases, his brain does agree: whatever he did see was indeed good looking. Giving her the satisfaction of being right? That’s something he’ll deny forever, no matter the circumstances. 

“Well, I couldn’t really see a lot when he crashed into me”

“Right”

An incredibly unconvincing assertion, he’s aware of that. But what else is left there to respond that won’t be misinterpreted by Mrs. ‘I’ll do anything to make your life harder’. 

“What else?”

For a second, Mary hums to herself, pretending to search for more happenings in their daily life. And before he can stop her, she’s already blurted it out. 

“Oh yeah. Tan’s crush looked at him and now he made his entire life about it” 

“The singer?”

His whole life, people have described him as talkative and extroverted, always getting a word in, always knowing a good joke - but this turn of events leaves him mouth agape for an instant. 

“You know?”

“There’s no secrets in this family” 

In fact, there’s no secrets with his sister. It’s so typical. As much as she hates drama, and getting into confrontations, she enjoys other people’s drama way too much. And when it’s about her older brother - then she abruptly turns from the antisocial loner to a chatterbox - who might or might not love to add in some fabricated details. 

“Mary, I will -”

“Thank me for making your life more entertaining”

Clutching her chest, she lets herself fall onto the mattress. 

“Oh, how much I love you, my dear brother” 

He wants to continue being mad - or pretend to be mad - but witnessing his mother laugh so carefree and painless changes his mind. 

“Make sure to always update me”

Tan can’t suppress the groan that escapes him as he hides his face in his hands, wishing he could abstain from participating in this discourse. 

“Oh my god seriously?”

Between whatever happened - and will happen - with Daisy, and that boy disappearing from his sight but not fully his mind, he’s certain Mary will have the time of her life teasing him for something that doesn’t exist. 

“I am your mother”

The strict tone should technically have some sort of effect - however, considering she’s used it countless times to humor them (and Tan has used it countless times with his sister), he merely snorts as he glances up again. 

“I need to make sure whoever it is that you bring home is good enough for my son” 

He wonders how his mother would feel if he enlightened her about the reality her son doesn’t even know if they’re good enough for him. Good enough for anyone. 

Good in general. 

Not in any mood to go down that road, he takes the path he knows will lead him to freedom. 

“Whatever you say, mother”

With a sigh, she pets his hair lovingly. 

“I raised you so well”

Chapter Text

Chapter 3 

Since that first meeting, he hasn’t really given the boy a third thought - a second thought he did have, somehow not wanting to let go that fast - , merely pushing it aside like any other memory of an interaction with a stranger. Fleeting, generic, forgettable. That is, until a few days later, where he’s in such a rush - it’s so typical of him to oversleep because even if he is smart, and he likes studying, his classes just begin too damn early - racing down the hallway, that he doesn’t register another figure speeding equally as fast, only the opposite way towards him. Once they’re both back on their feet, he recognizes him instantly. 

“Hello again” 

And exactly like that first time, there’s no response. No look, no word, no sound. Nothing. The moment he wants to continue, he's already moving along. 

“Wait -” 

His first instinct is to hold on, to grab his wrist and initiate any form of contact. But that's surely too weird, and too invasive, so he lets his hand slide and fall off, being left to stare once more at the shutting doors. 

On their third interaction, they're both just incredibly unlucky. The strength of the impact manages to lift the coffee cup the boy was holding straight into the air - thankfully not onto them or any other students nearby - and right into the ground with a loud splash, spilling its content visibly on the grass encircling them. A beat of silence, in which the other examines the damage done to his beverage, and Tan assesses the damage done to the Flora. Subsequently, like a magic spell or invisible string, they're apparently drawn to inspect it there's any harm done to their fellow participant in this slapstick show. Discerning who it is, he's completely prepared to crack ulp, when the people around them start swarming into the building, indicating it's time for classes again. Without much preamble, the guy flees again. Today, though, Tan can add two more features on his catalogue: sharp jawline and eyes who seem to merge with his pupils, made even bigger by his glasses, reminding him of tapioca pearls. 

After that, he went to get Boba, needing to indulge his odd craving. 

The final time occurs when he strolls leisurely down the patio towards the entrance, in a good mood. His glee stems partly from being done with classes for the weekend, partly from the anticipation of another night graced by Daisy’s presence. And due to recent events, his skin buzzes with even more excitement than normally. Too absorbed in his daydreaming, he forgets what he sees in front of his eyes instead of in his head, and clashes shoulder to shoulder with someone. This time at least, they’re both still standing, albeit a bit staggering. Only a second later, he grins at the one before him. 

“Do you have a radar on me or something?”

The boy, who up until now was busy rearranging his tie, freezes at the sound of Tan’s voice. Then, his head ascends slowly. 

“Oh my god”

Tan believes to witness a faint pink tinge in the guy’s cheeks, and he instantly covers his face. 

“I’m so sorry”

Since the words come out muffled, he leans in a tad closer to catch them better, and gets a whiff of what he presumes is his cologne - fresh and natural, like apples. 

“This is so embarrassing”

His fingers instinctively curl around the other’s wrists, but because he has no idea if this counts as trespassing privacy, he lets go and nudges them instead. When he gets no response, he also bumps his arm. That seems to at least do the trick, as he finally sees his expression again. 

“Hey”

Observing him remain mortified, he shrugs, barely containing a snort - because that surely would sound like a mockery. 

“It’s fine. It happens”

“Once!”

There's something almost endearing to Tan about his despair about something as mundane as this. 

“Not…four times” 

He does admit that it’s a strange coincidence. But to him, it’s more of a matter to laugh about rather than cry about. 

“Well, at least this time, I might put a name to the hurricane” 

“If you say it like that it's even more awkward”

Tan raises his hands in surrender, as if to signalize that he has no hidden agenda - yet, the beam doesn't leave his face. 

“If you're already this embarrassed…why don't I get the embarrassed’s name?” 

The boy still appears to be reluctant about this whole process, so Tan grimaces at him to loosen the tense atmosphere lingering. 

“Come on. Should I start?” 

He points at himself.

“I'm Tan” 

There's something about the way the boy stares back - down, rather, since he's just this much taller than him - at him. Like there's this spark - a flicker of recognition. Tan isn't surprised by that. After all, the bar he works at is incredibly popular with young people, especially students. Only that he, in particular, doesn't seem like the type of person to attend a club. 

“Khaofang”

It’s said within a breath, as if those two syllables cost him his entire effort. Although Tan heard it the first time, he blinks back dumbfounded, just so he can confirm. Sighing heavily, Khaofang’s posture seems to lose some of its rigidness. 

“My name is Khaofang”

For a moment, he eyes the person in front of him. In the end, he comes to the conclusion that yes, the name does fit him. Although, if it were up to Tan, he’d probably shorten it. Also, his eyes would stand out a lot more if he wasn’t wearing glasses - which, surprisingly, still suit him, and don’t take away from his objective handsomeness. 

“What?” 

Caught off guard by the fact he apparently stared a second too long, he blinks, then crinkles his eyes to his typical, upbeat smile. 

“Oh, I thought you maybe would run away again” 

Khaofang - Fang, he decides to call him (at least in his head), tilts his head and gifts him a subtle smirk - a mixture of amusement and genuine happiness. It makes him light up somehow. 

“Well, I guess there’s nothing to run away from, huh?”

Burying his hands in his pockets, he rocks back and forth on his feet. 

“Maybe?”

Tan is finding this much more hilarious than Khaofang, who at least, true to his words, stays and lets Tan listen to his voice. It's melodic and not monotonic as Tan pieced together from his appearance, and also deeper than predicted. 

“Scared I might bite?” 

“Scared I will” 

He observes him intently for any trace of distress or sombreness, but he doesn't detect any negative quality anymore.

“Interesting”

And because they've already brought up the subject, and Tan is an unprofessional at shallow small talk, he presses further. 

“Why did you run away from me at all?”

Evidently startled, Fang adjusts his collar and smoothes out his tie - both articles of clothing in pristine condition, making the gesture inutile. 

“That’s straightforward”

Temporarily, he considers taking a next step and doing it himself. Integrating himself without inhibitions or hesitation into people's lives have always been his most successful tactic to befriend someone. After years of practice, he's become a real expert in reading the room and knowing when it's adequate for him to do so. And Khaofang's tranquil personality practically invites him to. 

“I don’t do formalities”

“Clearly”

He can’t help but chuckle at the deadpan, dry humor of Fang. Such a contrast to how sweetly and timidly other people talk with him, stumbling over their words or blushing. And even if he comes off as slightly apprehensive (and reddish adjacent), he doesn’t seem to want to bolt immediately.

“I have to go to now”

Record scratch - he might want to leave the situation. But something about the way his eyes crinkle at the edges informs him it’s not with bad intent. Tan, however, will keep in mind he didn't answer his question - which means he'll grill him to no end next time. 

“It was nice meeting you, Tan”

“You haven't met me yet”

He folds his arms and raises an eyebrow at Tan. 

“Is that a threat or a challenge?”

“Depends on what you prefer”

That’s when it happens. For the first time. Khaofang giggles at him. Giggles. A genuine one, which makes his nose scrunch. 

And he accepts the truth: this is a beautiful man. 

“Goodbye, weirdo”

Giving him a salute, he holds that position for as long as it takes Fang to vanish from his view. 

“I hope I see you around, Khaofang” 

“Have you ever thought of maybe sending him a gift or something?”

At the top of his list of things his job taught him would probably be multitasking. He’s currently simultaneously mixing drinks, wiping the countertop, and pointlessly ignoring his sister - all while Peem is washing glasses and conversing with other guests, presenting them with his most charming smile. 

“You don't have his number, you can't talk to him”

Stopping to pour the drink, he slings the dishtowel over his shoulder.

“You think that works?”

“I think it's the only thing that could”

Contently munching on some nachos, she purposefully rubs her hands over the spot Tan just cleaned. 

“It's at least better than stalking him”

For a moment, he fights with himself to just empty the remaining crumbs on her lap, then promptly decides to be the bigger person and scoops up the box, not missing the opportunity to shoot the wet cloth at her. 

“Why do I even still listen to you?” 

The rag flies past him and misses Peem by an inch, making the regulars on Peem’s side of the bar chuckle at the antics they've grown accustomed to. 

“Because there's no one else listening you”

She pauses a second for dramatic effect and he realises that might've been his time window to flee. 

“And your endless pining”

He waves her off, but her suggestion still swirls in his fairly occupied brain. How is he supposed to make that happen?

Personally talking to him? Impossible.

Making an announcement? Unfathomable.

Asking someone else? Unimaginable.

He has no connection whatsoever, nothing he knows Daisy will appreciate. 

It only takes a few minutes for him to finally get an idea. He fishes out a bottle of water from the mini fridge, then dives under the counter where he keeps a notepad and pen in case the demands get overwhelming, and quickly writes a message.

Short, concise, straight to the point. 

‘Great performance. You're so cool. Take care'. 

Then he quickly doodles a daisy on the corner and tapes it against the plastic. As he approaches the bathroom, he makes a detour backstage to drop the present off, before beelining straight back to safe haven. As soon as Daisy steps down, and the usual electronic music blasts again, Mary grows bored and bids her farewell. 

Once he's done with the tidying and ready to leave, he finds it. Right by the counter, under the swing doors. A bag of bubble tea tapioca Mochis - one of his absolute favourite flavours. On it, with black marker, there's two words scribbled on the packaging. 

‘How considerate ^°^’. 

Alongside, there's a (much better and more detailed) drawing of that very same daisy he used. He can't help but keep marveling at the text. Daisy is ostensibly more on the adorable side than the indifferent one - how unforeseen. Stuffing the bag away, he's in an extraordinarily high spirits, way too smug about discovering something about Daisy no one else gets. 

It's just past 6AM when he bursts through the door, not even thinking about sleep, too giddy to wind down from this sign the gods have delivered him. 

“Why are you making that noise?” 

He perceives Mary's grumbling first. Then she appears in her doorway like a ghost, her comforter basically swallowing her whole as she shuffles behind him down the hallway. 

“At this ungodly hour?!” 

“He knows!”

Carelessly discarding his stuff in a corner, he flops down on his bed, bouncing with delight. 

“He didn't only take the bottle, he gave me something back!”

He shakes the sweets with such power, the poor rice cakes must dart out of their designated place. 

“Look!” 

Mary stares back unimpressed through half lidded eyes, pulling the blanket tighter around her frame - glinting like she's considering how to suffocate him with it. 

“You know that could simply be someone messing with you”

His face - and therefore his enthusiasm - falls instantly at the imagination of someone (other than his sister) reveling in his misery. 

“Why are you crushing my dreams?”

“I'm not crushing them”

Her sentence gets interrupted by a long, intense yawn. 

“I just don't want to build them up”

“I don't care”

He shoves the box towards her like a grand prize - or a million dollar bill. 

“He knows I exist”

While other people resort to the basic human functions when trapped between slumber and wakefulness, Mary's default setting seems to be ‘every sense on Autopilot’ except the ability to get under his skin. 

“Technically -” 

“He knows I'm the one working those shifts. He looked at me”

They're running in circles at this point, each of them undeterred from their opinion. 

“You didn't even sign your name”

Because his sister is too damn good at her job of irritating him, he picks up a pillow and chugs it at her, full force. 

“Get out”

“Gladly”

And while he hears her drag herself back to bed, he falls backwards onto the mattress and clutches the note closer to his chest with a subdued squeal. 

Chapter Text

Chapter 4

Sunday morning comes with a bang - quite literally, since a kick in his side sends him flying out of the warm covers and onto Mary's carpet. 

“Ow!”

If until then he's dreamt of chocolate brown eyes and veiny hands, he's now rudely greeted by white fuzz - which has long lost its fluffiness, and deserves a good vacuum clean. Groaning, he rubs his lower back.

“What the hell?” 

There’s rustling coming from above, and then a pair of narrowed eyes stare him down. 

“That's what I'm asking”

Demonstratively, his sister pulls up the blanket higher and pretends to gag. He can’t help but roll his eyes at the dramatics. After all, they’ve shared a bed for at least the first decade of their lives. 

“Why are you in my bed, creep!”

Well, he was in theory - until that uncalled and unjust expulsion he experienced. Still sensing the ache in his tailbone as he stands up, he knows who to blame for that bruise that will appear tomorrow. 

“Shut up”

With a pained sigh - that resembles a whine - he glances at Mary's digital clock.

9.17AM.

Definitely too early to be having this argument. 

“I was dead, and your room is closer to the front door”

As fully expected, Saturday nights are the busiest. Mary often picks and chooses which Saturday she so generously sacrifices to keep him company, since she likes to claim those are ‘her days’, where she locks herself away, not to be seen - not even by Tan. Yesterday was one of those days. But, it was also a particularly hard Saturday to cope with - too many people, not enough staff, a lot of conflicts - and hence, a shorter performance from Daisy. All in all, just exhausting. So he got rid of his outerwear, and crawled into the nearest bed available. 

“I'm calling the police”

“Jesus”

Just because he's used to Mary's theatrics - after all, she takes after him - doesn't mean he doesn't get irritated by it himself. Besides, he even laid with his head to her stinky feet since she once complained excessively about his bad habit of 'breathing into her face'. 

“You couldn't have taken the couch?” 

He stretches and senses the immense soreness - and hears the noisy cracking - indicating he undoubtedly should get more rest. 

“I actually need to use my muscles today, so no”

Collapsing back onto the bed, he's now allowed to repose for all of three seconds before there's another jab at his ribs. 

“Are you still not over your little daydream?” 

Snatching the pillow he almost took down with him on his descent, currently askew next to his sister's ankles, he grabs a fistful of the fabric, then lets go, repeating the motion mechanically. 

“Just say you hate me”

“Maybe he was just being nice?”

He rolls his head into her direction, his face contorting into a mix of pout and scowl - drawing out a snort from his sister.

“At least nicer than me. I would've thought someone was trying to poison me”

With a huff, he closes his eyes and rubs his forehead. 

“Do you think he's the type to play nice?” 

“Do you think that?”

Genuinely, the only thing that can make him shut up is precisely this: pointing out that he's falling for nobody.

A voice.

“What makes you even so sure it was meant for you?” 

To be fair, since that fateful night two days ago, he came down from his bubble and tried to look at it more objectively. For him, there's no other way to interpret it, nonetheless. Everything leads to that - at least, in his opinion. 

“It was left at the bar counter. Just in time for my shift”

“Maybe he's more interested in Peem. Or thought it was Peem”

For a second, he pictures them together - but that feels both like a betrayal to his close friend (and Peem’s boyfriend) and nauseating, since it only hammers in the melancholy of his situation. 

“You're so good at the negative stuff”

“I'm just saying - Peem is super cute”

Scoffing incredulously, he aims the pillow at her. 

“Yeah, and I'm sure Phum can tell you all about it”

“Hey, Daisy doesn't know he's taken”

Tan figures that's his cue to leave, in serious need of something to boost his blood sugar and caffeine levels before he can sink back into spiralling again. So, he rises to his feet.

“I'm not listening to you anymore”

Behind him, he hears her scrambling as well. 

“What if -”

“Bye!” 

“I'm hungry!” 

“Don't care!’

“Tan!” 

Fang’s Pov: 

Several days pass, and on Wednesday, he's still thinking about it. 

Against all his better judgement - and the tiny, nagging voice in the back of his mind - he can’t let go of the idea that it could’ve really been Tan who sent him that gift. If it was even intended for him. But who else could those words be addressed to? Regardless of how much he goes down another trail, he always arrives at the same conclusion: it was certainly a gift for Fang. 

Daisy. 

So, that’s one mystery solved. 

The following would be: who did send it? 

His heart so deeply wants to believe there is the chance - and his brain desperately hopes for his heart to be right. However, in the case of him being correct in his assumption, could he really call that a victory? 

That would mean Tan is interested in Daisy.

And that - 

“Hey there handsome”

Originally, he entirely ignores that remark, due to the fact there's possibly dozens of other, better looking guys around him, and no one ever pays attention to the people in the back. However, there's a shadow emerging with that opener, and it doesn't fade. Begrudgingly elevating his stare, he immediately frowns, the person materialising in front of him much too familiar. 

“Oh my god you should've seen your face” 

Fang has no clue what she's doing here nor what she wants from him, so instead of engaging with her, he quickly stashes away his half written lyrics into his bag. 

“You're the one who knocked down my Tan, right?” 

His initial confusion turns into mortification instantly at the memory of those instances. 

“He told you?”

Estimating from her reaction, he surmises she has to know - and he's only a bit concerned about how Tan described it from his perspective. 

“I remember a pretty face”

Although her voice doesn't carry any sign of condescension, he attempts to stay detached and unapproachable as per usual. Any time now, she'll get fed up with him. 

“So? Did he send you to sue me for damages?”

“Technically, it should be the other way around, huh?” 

In comparison to her amusement, his own bemusement at this whole scene persists. 

“No, I'm here because people like us need to stick together”

Certainly, she must be mistaken. He doesn't think anyone around here is similar to him - and if someone is, they wouldn't want to be for long. 

“The ones who go unnoticed. The ones who want to be unnoticed” 

Bullseye. And Fang, in his amazement of that assessment, startles clearly. That would be the nth time of him making a fool out of himself.

Great. This is just what he needed. Tan receiving the news he is an incapable, incompetent idiot and he should stay away for his own sake. 

“I’m like you in that way”

She tilts her head and bats her eyelashes - frighteningly friendly - at him. 

“You know, if I wasn't around Tan, people would also not know me”

“Why are you telling me that?”

As she straightens her posture a little, he witnesses her steady gaze falter for a mere second. 

“I guess…there's something comfortable around you”

He absolutely does not believe they can be anything alike. Fang would never in his life walk up to a stranger and ramble some bullshit like this. And still, the idiotic whisper of optimism reminds him to stay in Tan's good graces, just in case for the impossible event of them meeting again. And Tan and this girl seem to be close.

Closer than anyone. 

“If you don’t mind…I’d like to keep you some company”

He sneers - not because he's so put off by her, or he feels any hostility or animosity, but because it's considerably absurd anyone would care. 

“I don’t think I’m good company. Actually, I’m not really company”

“That’s the whole point”

Nonchalantly, she already picks up her spoon and scoops up a bite of fried rice. 

“Today, I just want to chew my lunch instead of Tan chewing my ear off”

Looking down to avoid showing his enjoyment, he pretends to be exasperated. 

“That’s a terrible joke”

The girl nudges him with a tickled hum. 

“And that’s a smile if I’ve ever seen one” 

Through the conversation, he's learnt more than he expected to. Her name is Mary. She's only studying communicative arts to have a broader spectrum, although she wants to become an author. She's Tan's younger sister by almost two years (a fact Fang is relieved to know since he had some genuinely different suspicions). And she's totally not the extrovert, party goer type. And she's objectively pretty - although that could be attributed to her resemblance with her brother. When she leaves, he feels partially optimistic and dreadful.

Getting to befriend her means getting closer to Tan. 

Getting closer to Tan means letting him closer - dangerously close - to the other him. 

Tan’s Pov: 

“I feel like you're pushing your luck”

He should've known better than to ask Mary for advice on this matter. But despite the amount of people he hangs out with on a daily basis, she's still his biggest confidant. Has always been. Even if she's a professional at tearing him down. 

“Literally how?”

From his point of view, it is the favourable next step to take. The gift exchange worked out well. If it doesn't this time, then he'll know how to move on from there. But for that to occur, he needs to do it. 

“I don't know. He might think you were nice last week - or whatever”

His sister increases the brightness of her screen and switches tabs back and forth before apparently settling on a half blank page. He can't make out which website she's on, but it's apparent she's more into it than into his issues. 

“But if you do it immediately the week after…”

The smirk forming on his lips is a bizarre blend of sinister and affectionate - something only Mary achieves. 

“Might make you look obsessed”

She doesn’t even look up as she continues typing furiously. He presumes it’s either a twitter discussion on a topic he surely won’t get into, or a heated book review - perhaps Fanfiction. He wouldn’t put it past her. 

“Which you are, but he shouldn't know that”

“Okay, thank you for the support”

“Hey, one of us needs to be the demon on your shoulder” 

He bites his lip for a while, conflicted on whether to push or not. However, he has the urge to get it off his chest, no matter if that means he'll get slandered for it. 

“It’s weird, isn’t it?”

Groaning loudly - probably because she deemed the conversation done and expected him to leave - she shuts her laptop and spins in her chair. 

“What is?”

In an effort to not let the topic become too heavy, he stares up at Mary's ceiling lamp and grins to make his tone sound lighter. 

“How the people who are the legit opposite of us catch our eyes the most” 

“You mean Daisy?” 

As his gaze snaps back to her, she leans forward and scrutinizes him with a raised brow. 

“Or Khaofang?”

His eyes widen instantaneously because no, he hasn’t really thought about Fang. Not until the name was mentioned, anyway. And now? Now he sees him perfectly in his head.  

“Now how do you know his name?” 

“I know everything”

Tan doesn't even want to clarify how she ambushed poor Fang into submission - neither does he long to find out what else she dug for. 

“How about you finish your current project before starting a new one?” 

That wording is the definition of Mary - harsh, direct, and no nonsense - and sadly somehow accurate. 

“Or - you know - abandon it because it's clearly not going anywhere”

“Damn”

Observing her every move, he tries to put some heat behind his words - which is unsuccessful, since Tan's love for his family overpowers his vexation for their conspiracy against him. 

“I didn't even know you could become an anti therapist”

His sister, clearly unbothered, brushes past him into the kitchen, rummaging through the fridge, obviously implying to follow her. 

“Think about it. You've been at it for months without making a move”

Not convinced by what she's seeing, she goes to the cupboards. 

“There's so many people waiting for you to make a move”

“I don't know”

Jumping onto the counter, he grabs an apple, purely to keep his hands entertained instead of stilling his hunger. 

“I guess that's what I like so much”

He begins juggling the fruit while pondering his choice of words. 

“I have no idea what to expect” 

Mary still looks sceptical, so he slithers into her proximity, intending to sound extra cocky. 

“I can set my own standards”

With his usual bright beam, he takes an extra loud bite, effectively making Mary cringe. 

“I can remain in my blissfully ignorant bubble of ‘what could’” 

“That's sad”

Devoting herself back to the fridge, he strives to drown out the unwarranted evaluation of his behaviour. 

“When was the last time you actually went out with someone? On a date?”

“With all the time I have? Just yesterday, squeezed in between taking care of our sick parent, making sure you're fed and keeping up with my studies while juggling a night shift”

Not remarkably famous for his mastery at sarcasm, it's rather intriguing his sister is the only one to get this side out of him. 

“Any more smart questions? Or am I going to get released, Mr. Officer?” 

“Don't lose your shit”

Casting an evident side eye over her shoulder, she pauses for a second to rest her chin on her hand. 

“I'm just saying”

The next stare is dedicated to her display, but he's unable to decipher exactly what she's doing. 

“Maybe focusing on something else - or someone else - can help you take your mind off…”

She gestures into the space between them, then back at where the box of treats is stored away, Tan too happy to think about throwing it away so soon. 

“This” 

“Yeah. Maybe”

Apparently obtaining an adequate snack, she stalks into the entrance hall and grabs her jacket. 

“And maybe …your‘maybe’ isn’t so far away…”

“Huh?”

Abruptly, Mary looks eerily cheerful - and he knows there's something brewing inside that maniacally creative, high functioning brain of hers. 

“See you later”

Then the door slams shut before him. 

Chapter Text

Chapter 5 

Fang's Pov: 

“Hey, Khao” 

Fleetingly, he muses how someone can be this enthusiastic about rice, of all things. But then, the voice repeats itself, and a hand emerges in front of his eyes. 

“Are you talking to me?”

Lifting his head, he witnesses the same girl from a few days ago, holding his gaze wryly. 

“Isn't that your name? Khaofang?”

If he’s honest, he has no recollection of ever mentioning this to Mary, nor did she ever ask for it. Which means - according to the contrary small articulation on the opposite corner, in the abyss of his subconscious - Tan may have talked about him to her. Or she somehow gained insight into his file.  

Just as quickly, though, the negative voice informs him that yes, obviously, don’t be stupid, she knows you’re a clumsy moron. That’s been established from the get-go. Forcing himself to not dwell on Tan for a change, he focuses on her face. 

Wrong decision. 

“That's my name, yes”

Without invitation, she takes a seat, the air around her buzzing with the same abnormally enthralling aura her brother possesses. 

“Khao-Fang”

She chuckles, a melodic sound he's not used to hearing from anyone - and he seriously wonders why she hasn't left yet. 

“Why are you so shocked by that?”

Shocked might not be the most accurate descriptive term for his emotion. Amazed probably fits better. Bewildered, possibly. 

“It's just…no one ever called me that” 

“Do you have another nickname then?”

That’s a funny question to nobody but him. Nicknames, he obtained quite a few while growing up. 

Failure,Weirdo,Nobody, The Other, oftentimes a simple ‘You’. 

It took him too long to realize the difference between pejoratives and compliments. 

“Nobody ever…called me”

Unlike Tan, Mary doesn’t give the impression of wearing her heart on her sleeve, leaving just a small room for estimation. Merely a twitch in the corner of her lips gives away what she might be thinking. 

“I can call you by your real name, if you want”

“No!” 

He clasps his hand over his mouth at the sudden loss of composure, needing a few more seconds than usual to regain it.

“I mean, I don't mind. It sounds nice”

That only serves as grounds to make Mary laugh harder, as she rests her head in her hand and scrutinizes him.

“You know, I like you, Khao”

Ridiculous.

Someone saying that? 

Ridiculous.

“You know why?” 

Evidently, his pensiveness must present itself on his body language, since she leans in, as if she’s about to reveal the world’s most treasured secret. 

“Why?” 

“Because we're so similar… not personality wise. Not fully”

There's a switch in attitude now, and even if her sarcastic and snarky exterior is the opposite of her brother's, they share the same sincerity in their eyes. 

“But because you're you. Completely. Without hiding. Without excuses. You don't care about others”

That statement hits him like a bullet to the chest. If he could tell her how wrong she is. How she's fond of someone who doesn't like himself - rejects this side of him, actually. 

“You don't pretend to be someone you're not”

If she knew he’s the biggest and worst liar of them all. 

But instead of diving deeper into his self-hatred, he steers into safe territory - anyone but him. 

“Neither do you, huh”

Inattentively, she drums her fingers against the tabletop - a habit he’s observed before.

“I believe you don't get far in life by cheating”

To conceal his impending doom - because this might literally be the definition of foreshadowing - he scoffs at her.

“Philosophical”

“Learnt that from my brother” 

His breath hitches, and he feels devoid of any basic human function. Of course the fates would do that to him. Naturally, the one he’s fallen for is the one who despises all of Fang’s traits - all he is. 

“Wow. What a great guy”

Mary snickers, presumably because that response comes across as far more ironic than intended. At least in this instance, he’s grateful for his typical dryness, because it rescued him from exposing himself and causing irreparable damage. 

Insurmountable events he never could’ve predicted have now managed to throw him completely off balance. Well, it might have just been three. That's three more than what happened in his existence up until now. A monumental amount, if you ask him. 

One: Tan knows Khaofang exists and he knows Fang is Fang. 

Two: He graciously provided his precious time to Fang to have small talk and at least possessed the decency to act like he's curious about Fang and gave him the time of day to let him answer. 

Three: He also (hypothetically) seems to be rather invested in Daisy - whether that might be his personality, his looks, or whatever. Tan noticed him like Fang noticed Tan. 

And a bonus revelation: his secret, private, primarily kept in his fantasy crush is now critically within reach. 

“Hey Fang!”

“Huh?”

This time, there’s no mistake. Definitely, that greeting was meant for him. And yet, he doesn’t comprehend why. 

“Isn't that your name? Khao-Fang”

He barely suppresses a giggle at the prompt sense of deja-vu. 

“Uh…you siblings are really alike”

“Are we?”

Although the first word that flashes in front of his eyes at Tan’s expression is ‘adorable’, his unfair attractiveness prevents Fang from defining him as nothing but ‘handsome’. 

“Do you treat everyone you just met as a close friend?”

The guy in front of him slings his back tighter over his shoulder and lets out a low chuckle - which makes his stomach turn. 

“Well, if I don't have any boundaries, there's no way to overstep them”

A logic only Tan could come up with - but how much proof does he have to support that declaration? How does he get the right to assess Tan in any shape or form correctly? Where does he get the audacity to label anything as ‘Tan-like’ when he has no idea what the latter’s personality is actually like outside his late night scenarios loaded with delusion?

“Has that ever worked?”

Tan folds his arms and rocks on his feet again - apparently incapable of standing still - and his short sleeved engineering uniform reveals the visible muscles in his forearms. 

“You didn't scream at me to leave you alone. So I'm taking that as a point for me”

In order to not have a disgraceful reaction - and earning a humbling one in response - he clutches his own satchel. 

“Has anyone ever told you to leave them alone?”

A desperate endeavour to stall, to prolong this just a bit, to permit him to indulge in his illusion of having some sort of relationship with Tan. Mostly also a rhetorical question from his side. Daisy has plenty of proof to denounce that query.

“Besides my sister, who has a personal vendetta against me…”

“You know, I'm starting to see her point”

Only that the noticeable distinction between Mary and him would be that she'd yell at Tan to leave her alone because she means it - Fang would tell him that because he'd never want him to. 

“Don't take her side”

“Alright, alright”

He wants to redirect his attention to the stains on the floor, the students surrounding them, the birds flying high above - anything but Tan's face. Anything but the freckles which remind him of constellations, and the bunny teeth which show whenever he smiles, and the way the breeze ruffles his hair and makes him look like the lead in a music video - 

He gulps again. 

His skin tingles. 

“What do you want?”

Tan gasps at the bluntness and clutches his chest. It's not like Fang fully means to be like this, but he is truly and genuinely inquisitive about why he's still dealing with Fang. 

“Ooh, straight to the point”

“I don't do formalities”

“Clearly” 

Just as he’s commencing to enjoy the banter, silence settles. Regardless of its origin or purpose, every silence among him and other people is an uncomfortable one. 

“So?”

Tan looks as though he was miles away for a moment, and has totally forgotten where he is and what he’s doing, because he blinks multiple times before he finds Fang’s stare anew. 

“So?” 

“What do you want from me?” 

Tan shifts his weight, and it’s most likely imperceptible to humans less observant than Fang. It’s almost as if Tan is… nervous? 

Fang doesn’t believe he’s ever seen Tan nervous. Experienced him be nervous, heard him be nervous - those things he can’t attest to. But - and it’s an addition to his record of him being hapless - he’s watched him for the greater portion of his weekends, and he’s never seen him anything but his gorgeous, laid-back self. 

“An apology and forgiveness”

“Excuse me?” 

It’s not at all said with the detachment he wanted it to. No, it comes out at least an octave higher, pitchy - like a shriek. Tan’s demeanor, however, doesn’t falter. 

“An apology for running away from me and ignoring my existence”

There's a precipitous transformation from the confident, genial aura to something shy. 

“And… forgiveness for making you uncomfortable”

The second time in a span of a short while the oxygen is unable to circulate properly. His whole life has been filled with sorry’s. He had to apologize for everything. For not being smart enough, not being prepared enough, not being good looking enough, not being kind enough, not being thin enough, not being athletic enough - and here he is, on the other side of the apology, not the sender, but the recipient. And he has no idea what the hell he’s supposed to do, or say, or how to act, or how to interpret it. 

“How about you…”

He catches himself instantly, condemning his tendency to short-circuit whenever Tan so much as breathes, let alone looks into his direction. To fix this situation, he pieces together a sentence that does not sound like he's begging for a date. 

“Pay for my food one of these days and I'll answer you some of your questions” 

Lamentably, he’s positive that’s the absolute capacity of his bravery. 

“You think you have that much interesting stuff to tell?”

The ease with which Tan has spun the metaphorical blade at his throat is truly unjust. How does any normal person compete with that smile? He has to swallow twice to regain his composure. 

“I think you expect more interesting stuff than I have to offer”

Fang can't really find the words to characterise or define this charm of Tan to immerse people in whatever it is he says or does, no matter how trivial or common it may look upon first glance. 

“Maybe the seemingly uninteresting ones are the most interesting to me”

“Oh wow, backhanded compliment”

He doesn’t know whether it’s his stoicism, or a natural skill, but while his body is in constant fight or flight mode, his brain seems to be calm enough around Tan to speak without questioning himself. And whenever he manages to coax another titter out of him, he gets more encouraged to proceed. 

“I’ll accept your offer”

In theory, he's perfectly aware that this is nothing but courtesy. Tan being nice, plausibly feeling bad for Fang - but it still doesn't stop the flutter in his chest upon hearing that. 

“Under one condition”

Straightaway, he tenses up. Conditions, limits, prohibitions, dependency. That's what he's well versed in. He's acquired a submissive personality since birth - blame his parents for it. 

“I get to choose”

For all the little dignity Fang has left, he won’t point out that Tan has had the control from the very start. In all aspects. 

“Try it”

He doesn't know when or how - most importantly why - but either Tan or Fang must have moved closer, since Fang verifies premises he previously set up. One of them being the color of his eyes - not much of a random guessing game, since the large majority of the Thai population has brown eyes - but Tan's aren't the dark, dull type. The way the raw sunshine hits him, now that it's not filtered by the hallway windows, highlight the natural golden specks in them, and uncover their realshade: Russet, brilliant, and beautiful. 

“And maybe I’ll be the first person to tell you no”

“I doubt it”

What puzzles Khaofang above all is why the hell neither of them have put some distance in. 

“Just don’t get too excited”

“Too late”

Yeah. He acknowledges that's the best explanation. It's too late for him to not get attached. It's too late for Tan to not get hurt, in one way or another. 

And it was probably too late already once they saw each other. 

“See you around, Fang” 

To anyone else, that wouldn't have been an interference worth dwelling about. A brief contact, a mundane and ordinary communication. But he can't prevent it. He has plans. Plans with Tan. That's the leading, rational descriptive his mind needs to come to terms with. And yet, that minuscule, aggravating voice can't free him from that one single, devastating word: date. 

He needs to stop mulling it over and over and concentrate on more important things, namely his career - both of them. The side of him that wants to become a doctor simply to please, to correct his older brother's mistakes and allow his younger brother to make some. And the side of him which longs to be nothing but free. To play music and write music and get known for his music. But whatever path he'll choose to go down, and wherever he'll end up, he needs one thing: dedication. 

There's no space for romantic tragedies in his future.

Right on cue, the moment he believes he’s found some tranquility, there's shuffling approaching his location. Much as he loves to feign ignorance and assume whoever it is isn't here for him, since the cafeteria desk at the far end - and its related occupant - thankfully goes by disregarded, the footsteps halt much too near. 

“Hey, you come around here often?” 

He only spends a second staring at his intruder over the rim of his glasses before averting himself, tapping his pencil against the sheets spread out in front of him. 

“Why do I feel like that was an actual question?”

“Because it is”

Out of the corner of his eyes, he perceives her sliding onto the bench opposite of his. 

“Believe me, if I was flirting with you, It would look very differently” 

“Should I be worried?” 

A moment of silence passes, and Fang believes Mary might've vanished already - or was never there to begin with - but then he looks up and is greeted by her piercing, yet oddly warm stare, and he wonders what's taking her so long to answer. 

“Not my type” 

He spends a brief moment analysing her, then comes to the conclusion he presumes she hinted at. 

“You haven’t answered me”

Registering that his plans of memorising hypothetical patient charts won't work with her presence, he places his human anatomy annotations he's organised the night before on top, simply to pretend he has some control. 

“Why are you asking?”

“Because we came around here often”

He knows. Of course he does. Admittedly, like the loser he is, he's observed Tan from a safe distance - the farthest table back - because it granted him a view of Tan and an easy emergency exit. 

“And I don’t think I’ve seen you before”

“You haven’t seen one single face in dozens?” 

He adjusts the frames perched on his nose and glares down at her playfully stern. 

“Guess you’re in desperate need of one of these”

Taking a strand of her hair into her fingers, she curls it around her index finger - a gesture that's commonly seen as coy and flirtatious, but seems to just be a habit for her. 

“You know, I do really enjoy talking to you” 

There’s a direction in which this chat is heading that he’s not certain he’s ready for. Between all the emotional talk, and that ominous word ‘friend’ hanging in the air, he has to swallow the lump in his throat - and glances at his notes again. 

“I think…I’m just easy to miss. Or hard to notice. Take your pick”

Even if he’s smiling at that - since he’s long learnt to turn his patheticness into something ridiculous - he’s aware it most likely looks as pathetic as it is. 

“Oh, I don’t know”

Already getting ready to protest, he instead focuses his energy on his anatomy papers. Yet, his partially feigned apathy doesn’t work on his interlocutor. 

“ I’m sure you’re great”

Taking advantage of his current distracted state, she steals whatever is left of his iced coffee to finish. Not that he truly minds - there’s something nice about having shared company. About having someone take the time to converse with him. Especially because it doesn’t appear as though Mary cares whose free stuff she exploits. 

“You’re handsome, endearingly awkward, obviously smart, super crushing on Tan -”

“That’s not great”

Even if life is going on all around them, students screaming and eating and running, the table they both are sitting at puts them on pause. His head shoots up instantly, not knowing which reaction he’s going to be met with. It could be a smirk, smugness at being aware she’s correct, or bewilderment because she simply made a joke - and he effectively a fool out of himself.

Both options are dreadful.

It turns out to be the former, Mary folding her arms and leaning back in her chair. 

“That was easy”

Since denying it will undoubtedly not garner any favourable outcome, he selects the uncomplicated option: letting his humiliation pass naturally. 

“How did you know?”

“Female intuition?” 

Rubbing his temples, he lets out a small whine. 

“What was the reason?”

“Just wanted to confirm” 

“Why?”

He's conscious he sounds exactly as desperate as he feels. Wallowing in self pity is sufficiently shameful alone, but having someone else pity him? 

That's one too much. 

“Personal gain”

Personally, Fang has no clue what would be of value to her that he's in a hopeless, impossible, unrequited situation. 

“I guess you’re right, though”

Her eyes wander around Campus, and he's too afraid to check what piqued her interest. 

“It might not be that great”

The subsequent gaze he gets is tinged with an unreadable energy - as if that's somehow mandatory for him to know. 

“Tan already has a crush on somebody else”

“I’m not surprised”

He attempts to sound unaffected - he must admit he did expect that. A person like Tan, as extroverted as he seems, is still a twenty one year old man with his own needs. 

“I’m probably also not the only one who likes him”

Fang wants nothing more than to throw up at the vulnerability in his voice. God, he can't be any more of a loser. 

“No, I don’t think so. But, my brother - he’s never been the type to date around”

Ever since he took notice of Tan one random Saturday night, he's always wondered about it. Each time he would spy over at the bar, he'd witness rows and rows of customers winking at him, simpering, twirling their hair coquettish. To him, Tan always came off as irresistibly charming, yet never invested in actually getting even a phone number. 

“Or to say yes to someone just to not make them sad”

As much as he likes to pretend he's above all of this, the tiny, negative nagger in the back of his head is currently reminding him that would be the only way Tan would ever agree to go out with him. 

“He’s a people pleaser by nature, but even he knows it’s much better to give a clear and concise rejection”

He could've deduced that by the sparse interactions he's had so far - both from afar and close up. 

“Letting them down gently instead of stringing them along” 

If he previously was of the assumption he could get over this infatuation fast, it's becoming increasingly evident that Tan is unlike anyone else - not that he truly has someone to compare him to. 

“And here I thought you were going to play the ‘don’t do that he’s straight’ card”

“Tan and straight?”

That thought is for some reason sufficient to make Mary crack up again, vehemently this time. 

“That man is a free spirit, Khao”

For a brief intervention, he also has to snort, imagining Tan in a hippie get up and bandana, throwing peace signs and hand hearts around.

“He once told me that if he’s interested, he’s interested. It’s about feelings, not people”

He can't help but grin at Mary's blatant - if effortless - imitation of his voice. 

“But honestly, I’ve never seen him fully interested”

She stirs the straw in what he assumes might be the melted ice cubes absentmindedly.

“Until recently” 

Rolling her eyes, she lets out a deep groan of frustration - and he contemplates for who she’s putting on the show. 

“He has this stupid, impossible crush on the Masked Singer”

That makes him perk up instantly. 

Because it confirmed his biggest fear. 

No. 

It can’t be - 

“Daisy?”

“...you know him?”

For someone who’s had a double life for months now, perfectly fleshed out persona included, he’s a terrible liar - and the tremble in his fingers and heat in his neck just underline that. 

“I…I feel like everybody knows him”

“That’s true”

Although Mary appears to move on, he makes a mental note in bold, capital letters to be extra cautious around her. If she figured out that secret so fast, how long will he go by unscathed? 

“And everybody loves him”

Another issue added to the enormous pile that being Daisy gave him: he has fans. He has people who like what he does. And yet, it’s not him they’re a fan of. De Facto, he surmises as soon as the mask falls, so will he from the public eye. 

“I guess the mysterious, bad boy, talented guy will always win over the nerdy, inconspicuous one, huh”

As soon as he finishes speaking, he immediately longs to bang his head against the steel surface. Could he sound any more like a compliment fishing, self hating idiot? 

“I’ll help you”

He frowns so rapidly, his vision blurs around the edge, sending a wave of pain into his eyeballs. 

“What do you mean?”

“With Tan. I’ll help you get him”

Fang believes if he could furrow his brows further, he would. In his mind, he attempts to mak sense of how they got to this. 

“...Get over him?”

Shaking her head, she clasps her hands together and gives him a cryptic smirk. 

“Nope. The best way to move on from someone is to meet someone else”

He hopes she’ll see the humor in the future in wanting Tan to like Khaofang in order to get over Khaofang. Then again, even to himself, he separates all his various personalities. Yet then again, Tan couldn’t date Daisy without dating Khaofang, and dating Khaofang without dating Daisy. And it’s impossible for anyone to like all of them. 

Abruptly, he realizes what’s wrong here: why the hell is he even thinking about dating Tan? In which parallel world could that ever be anything but a fantasy? 

“Someone who can give Tan what he wants”

And that’s where Fang officially misses the mark. Up until now, he could find a loophole to be kept in the running of ‘people Tan could be curious about’. But a shy, average looking guy with no interest in a stable career and family issues? 

He’s truly a catch. A dreamboat.  

“If he knows who he’s falling for, I’m sure he’ll fall that much faster”

The level of hurt that conclusion causes him is comparable to a third degree burn.

If she knew. 

If she knew, she might get angry.

If Tan knew - he’d be disappointed. 

And isn’t that always so much worse? 

“Plus, you’ve already got the pretty face on your side”

He slaps her hand away that’s taken possession of his chin.  

“Can I say no?”

“You can say no”

With an overly cute smile - which surely isn’t her natural one - she slides the cup back into his direction, obviously unbothered. 

“I’m still going to do something” 

“I’m also going to do something”

Aggravated, he tosses his sharpener at her, for the first time not attentive to what other students think of him. 

“Murder you, for example”

But she's already jumped out of her seat and waves him off dismissively, a beam wider than the Cheshire cat plastered on her face. 

“You’ll thank me, babe”

Chapter Text

Chapter 6 

Of course it has to rain today. He doesn't know if he's thankful for the weather's ability to represent his mood, or even more sour for worsening an already bad day. It began when he woke up a whole hour before his set alarm. Normally, people would simply turn around in hopes of getting more sleep. Fang, sadly, has never been the type of person who's able to fall asleep again when waking up - that includes at ungodly hours like 3AM as well. He weighed his options for breakfast and outlined the advantages and disadvantages - and finally decided on passing by the cafe in order to avoid his parents’ interrogation. But unfortunately, because today is cursed, he made it just out of his bedroom before his father demanded to quiz him for their mock tests - which Fang, despite the annoyances and his obvious unenthusiasm for this major, aced - and missed the opportunity to eat in peace and unhurried - which prompted him to quickly get something to go and rush to campus, almost dropping his coffee a second time (only this time without a cute guy responding to it). And now they not only cancelled his last class, but the library is also off limits, closed temporarily for renovations, devoiding him of any reasonable possibility to not return home. While his parents are anything but vigilant, and would probably not require the usual 24, but at least 72 hours to report him as missing, if they ever were to find him somewhere outside of school or perhaps the tiny bistro on the corner of the street (so long as he's studying), he'd never hear the end of it. So here he is, waiting for a bus that won't show even after twenty minutes, and it's raining. He doesn't believe this day can get any worse. Apparently, though, the fates decided he doesn't seem to have faced sufficient setbacks for today, because a very kind, very close, very familiar voice startles him out of his brooding. 

“So we meet again” 

There he is, like the protagonist in a cheesy romcom, like the sun itself decided to fight against the downpour.

Warm but blinding. 

Tan holding out an umbrella. 

“What are you doing?”

To not go on a tangent or a rant - or accidentally lash out at the one person who dared to approach him in a bad mood - he casts his eyes up to the device's pattern. 

Daisies. 

He immediately frowns. 

“Meditating” 

Either Tan hasn't yet caught onto it, or he's sincerely endeavouring to improve his state - both of these options surprise him, nonetheless. 

“I didn't take you for the spiritual kind”

“I need to find my inner peace”

It's spoken through gritted teeth, Fang mustering up the energy left to not scream at the poor guy. 

“Otherwise, I'll end up in custody by this evening”

Tan snorts at him, and that could theoretically serve as enough for today and trigger the ticking time bomb he's become, but astonishingly, a tiny hardened piece inside of him is melting at the sight. 

“Well, then I think I have the perfect remedy for you”

Without much preamble, or grand declaration, yet far too ceremoniously for Fang's taste, he holds out his arm.

“Let's go”

He eyes it suspiciously, as if Tan had presented him with a bug on his palm - or a bomb. 

“Where?” 

Although in his head, he's already picturing the thousands of excuses and escape routes he can follow, his body complies involuntarily, and now that he's done it, undoing it would somehow have worse consequences.

“To fulfill a promise”

As he lets Tan carry him away, he bites his lip and points at the small space between them. 

“What's this supposed to be?” 

“You're too tall. Otherwise, hold it yourself”

He surmises that Tan has no clue which detrimental effect he has on Fang, or else he'd never place his hand on top of where Fang is holding the shaft, close enough so that Fang can smell his - natural scent? Cologne? - a blend of cinnamon, vanilla, and something more spicy - oddly comforting. If he's honest - and he hates being honest - he didn't really expect this to happen. At one point, only a few days after that encounter, he started to believe that perhaps Tan said that stuff to a lot of people before to get himself out of an awkward situation. He might not have meant it. It would probably never happen. And now here they are, walking to god knows where to do god knows what - and they're holding hands. Well, not technically how ‘holding hands’ would be described in a dictionary, but Tan's hand is practically holding his, so that has to account for something. 

It's only a short distance, probably less than a mile, and Fang is concurrently relieved and vexed by it. He doesn't want Tan to let go yet, but he also believes staying this close to him any longer will certainly drive him insane. Tan, the gentleman, opens the door for him. Contrary to what he expected, they find themselves in a cozy, bohemian cafe on the corner of the street. The type of place where someone instantly feels welcome - well lit, but not uncomfortable. Warm, but not stuffy. And the smell of coffee beans and something else, slightly sweet, overpowers any other unpleasant scent - and for some fucking reason, enhances Tan's. He doesn't know why, but initially, he pictured one of two things when he thought about the type of person Tan is: an actual, typical restaurant - or a food cart in the middle of the mall. And yet - looking at Tan, right here, right now, there's no better place he'd fit in (although Fang might be biased). 

“Can I ask you something?” 

The waitress has barely noted down their orders and distanced herself when Tan already leans forward, head in his hands, gaze glued on him. To remain unbothered, he skims the tables surrounding them. Even if there aren't many other customers, those who did end up here look like they never want to leave. Ergo, Fang concludes this must be some kind of hidden gem - and simultaneously, stupidly feels like Tan let him in on some kind of secret. 

“You can ask. I might not answer” 

When he's met with silence, he trails his eyes back to the person sitting across from him, wondering what it is that suddenly made Tan speechless, until his gaze locks on Tan's - who moves on as if nothing happened.

“Why did you choose medicine?”

Fang's surprise about that specific inquiry must reflect on his face, since Tan shifts in his seat. 

“I mean…it’s clearly not exactly what you’re passionate about”

Whatever next was supposed to come out of his throat stays right there, because there's something in the manner in which Tan is looking at him - like he can read his mind without trying - that makes him afraid to say anything at all. 

“Your face. Your body language”

He can feel the muscles in his mouth twitch - an irksome, automatic reaction that's triggered whenever he isn't certain which expression to pull. 

“The expression you have when you enter the school and when you leave”

That's a revelation he has no idea how to react to, and his indecisiveness is influencing his present level of anxieties far too easily for his liking. 

“The way you take notes - very detailed, very diligent”

Tan trails his finger along the patterns on the tablecloth. 

“Very… detached, I should say”

For the first time since he saw him - which, unbeknownst to Tan, hasn't been barely a month - he appears insecure. While it's not his first time having someone be reluctant to speak to him, it seems less like he's hesitant to talk to him and more like he's hesitant to talk about this topic. 

“Clinical”

Noticing that Fang isn't stopping him, or calling him out for a lapse in judgement, he strives on.

“Like you're forcing yourself to do it because it's a chore, not something you want to learn”

Perhaps it's the fact Tan doesn't know him that well, and therefore considers it strange for someone to be this quiet, but with rapid blinking, and accompanying awkward grin, he leans back again. 

“Maybe I'm reading too much into it”

Because Fang still doesn't know what to respond as their meal is placed in front of them, Tan is most likely interpreting it wrong, since he's beginning to fiddle with his napkin. 

“You can prove me wrong”

He needs another approximately 30 seconds - and several reminders that surely, it doesn't matter what he says because it won't change anything anyway, until he spills. 

“I know you think it's supposed to be in a sweet ‘I see that's not who you are you can trust me’ way, but honestly, it sounds more like a ‘I know exactly who you are and what you are cause I'm a weirdo who watched you’” 

Opposite of what Fang was dreading, his analytical standpoint seems to have loosen the tension, since Tan's eyes start to crinkle as he lets out a low chuckle. Motivated by that small victory, he allows himself a subtle smile, feeling a sudden warmth in his cheeks.

“And both are strange since I don't know you”

When Tan looks up once more, he's back to the confident, charming guy Fang knows him as. 

“Well…that's a way to get to know each other “

He hates it. Hates how a simple phrase can make him feel this way. Hates that just a handful of words makes his skin tingle and his heart race. But above all, he hates that nagger telling him it’s most likely not the first time - and he’s not the first person - Tan has declared that. 

“Do you think you can trust me?” 

In his brain, he's sorting out all the various replies, disassembles the question and pieces it back together - and ultimately, lands on ‘there’s nothing going against it'.

“I'm doing it for…my future, I guess”

It sounds so meek, so unconvincing, he gets first hand embarrassment instantaneously. 

“It's a well paid job, a stable job, a reputable job-”

“An exhausting job, a burdening job, Sometimes plain depressing”

Briefly, the air around them is suspended, and even if Fang senses the electric tension between them, neither moves. In the end Fang lets out a profound sigh, as if he held his breath much longer than he actually has. 

“I'm doing it for my family”

“There it is”

That sentence naturally requires a certain level of smugness. However, when he meets Tan’s gaze, he only sees openness. Almost tenderness. And, if he didn’t know better, gratitude. 

“My parents…expect a lot from me”

He isn’t sure why he feels so inclined to open up about this - to his unrequited crush no less - but Tan’s kindness, Tan’s genuineness, Tan’s warmth - they basically invite him to. 

“Okay”

Instead of focusing on his toast, Tan clasps his hands together and tilts his head with a smirk. 

“So…”

He raises his glass to his lips as an indicator how this subject sits with him. 

“I don't really talk family issues before my third cup of coffee”

“Alright”

None of Tan's features - smile, gaze, tone - falters. And suddenly, Fang craves sharing his entire story with him. 

“I can wait”

Fleetingly, he imagines this gorgeous smile vanishing, the fondness being replaced by furry - or betrayal - and it impairs his capability to breathe. His interlocutor also appears to register the abrupt switch in attitude, since he releases his position to dedicate himself to his cutlery - all casual and non intrusive. 

“You can ask me something, if you like” 

That's both a hilarious and particularly risky offer, considering the first thing Fang would spew would be some bullshit like: ‘could you ever imagine going out with me?’ or ‘hey, that singer you find attractive? Yeah, that's me. Hard to believe, right?’ 

It would make him look crazy, and obsessed, and deeply disturb Tan. 

“Shoot your shot” 

“That's definitely not how you use that” 

Silently expressing gratitude for Tan's remarkable quality of soothing his nerves, he manages to shake the pessimism off for now, attempting to indulge the fact that the sole event he dreamt of happening finally arrived.

Plus, it's even better. 

“Either way I'll listen” 

He’s turning it over again and again, the one thing that’s weighing down on his chest, that he’s been trying to swallow down, to chew into a million tiny pieces so it doesn’t escape. But, he can’t deny he must know whether or not he’s genuinely competing with himself. 

“You know, your sister is a bit of a…” 

“Snitch?”

Promptly, he chokes on his iced latte at Tan's unexpected bluntness before - not fully unexpected, but uncharacteristically - breaking out into a wide grin. 

“Your words, not mine” 

“What did she tell you?”

Even if it's supposed to sound irritated, it's undoubted how much he loves his sibling, even in situations like this. 

“Something interesting” 

How the hell will he manage to make it sound like he’s not that curious, like he’s not prying. It’s not like he enjoys digging for information this way, not even about himself, because this - whatever it is - belongs to Tan only. 

“Maybe personal” 

Fang doesn’t know whether he admires or is envious of Tan’s ability to constantly appear this easygoing and content with his entire life, regardless of circumstances. 

“Oh. That”

The way Tan averts his gaze doesn't scream ‘discomfort’, simply matter of fact, as if it's someone else they're talking about. 

“She probably painted it grander than it actually is”

Part of him hopes that that's the case. That Mary was just out to tease her brother, who might've simply looked at him for a second too long or made a throwaway joke that didn't quite land - so that Fang would never have to worry about that again. Another Part wishes for it to be the exact opposite. That Tan is so… into him, he's downplaying it - the confirmation that Fang has even the narrowest chance. 

“It's just… allure? Infatuation?”

Despite neither wanting to get his hopes up nor intending to get all cocky, in his head, those are synonyms for ‘crush’. 

 “Definitely not… that” 

He exhales - half relieved, half upset. To appear completely impartial - although he's certain it's not helping - he stirs his drink rather vigorously. 

“What do you like so much about him?”

Tan taps his index finger against the corner of his mouth, and Fang is once more magically drawn to the two moles adorning his upper lip.

“I guess I kind of…admire how he manages to always keep to himself”

The laugh that follows is a mixture of ridicule and actual amusement - and for some reason, it tugs right at Fang's heart - in this case in the negative sense.

“I'm an open book, for that matter”

“I don't think anyone can be”

He's spoken without thinking twice, and the security in his voice seems to surprise both of them. But while Fang is completely mortified and ready to just be humiliated all over again, Tan's (assumed) signature smirk only grows bigger. 

“I guess I just never hold back when talking to someone”

Although Fang's initial instinct is to confirm that assertion - after all, he has plenty of proof to support that - there's the slightest bit of hesitancy in his body language, so he waits until Tan has finished. 

“That's how others always describe me”

Absentmindedly, he chews on his straw in order to sort out his following steps.

“Yeah? But what about how you would describe yourself?”

Upon dropping that question, Tan furrows his brows - not in an angry fashion. Rather, he appears to be deeply stuck in his thoughts. 

“I guess…I guess I just really don't like lying”

“Me neither”

Because he's that nervous, that disgusted with himself because of what he feels, it comes out far too quickly. Still, the person across from him seems to be satisfied, his expression so overwhelmingly sincere, it makes Fang want to scream - scream something embarrassing and life alternating like the truth, which will ruin whatever it is they're building with a hundred percent warranty. 

“So another thing we have in common”

“What's the first?” 

Ominously, like he's declaring world peace, Tan leans forward and drops his voice - unfortunately, that makes it really hard for Fang to focus on the content. 

“We're both hopeless”

There it is again. That idiotic flutter in his chest. That tingle - or more appropriately goosebumps. Incredulously, he rolls his eyes and huffs out a snort. 

“You're really…”

“You have a beautiful smile”

That makes him freeze instantly. He’s probably gaping at Tan like he's some kind of foreign, unexplored scientific discovery. 

“I wanted to tell you that since the first time I saw it”

He can sense the unwelcome, treacherous blush appearing instantaneously. Unable to form a single coherent thought, his eyes shift anywhere but Tan's - for the nth time in about an hour. 

“But back then, it would've really been creepy” 

Fang requires half an eternity to force out an answer - not the one in his heart, but the only adequate one presently. 

“Oh but three weeks later is perfectly fine? Weirdo” 

Judging from the way Tan's eyes crinkle, what he's seeing is nowhere near as convincing as what he heard. 

“Yet, you're still not running”

He assumes it happens to everyone with a crush as intense as his once - or twice - but his palms are now noticeably sweaty, and his legs have brushed Tan's under the table more than once, and he simultaneously wants to sprint and jump into Tan's arms - in the end, he does none of it.

Does nothing. 

Thanks the fates for having been attributed the test trait of ‘lacking in showing emotions’ because despite his inside being a chaos, his outside barely manages to blink in response. 

“With my luck, you already know where I live”

It's crazy to him that - as far as Fang's skill in reading people goes - Tan genuinely seems to enjoy himself in Fang's company. They couldn't be more like night and day. 

But now, they must be more like dusk and dawn, from his point of view. 

“Maybe before that, I need to know other things first” 

Cautiously, he narrows his eyes at him - half playfully, half scared to death. 

“Like?” 

Clearing his throat, Tan cracks his neck and pulls out an imaginary notebook - which in turn makes Fang suppress a fresh fit of giggles, an unfamiliar concept to him. He presumes that a rapid fire interview at least won't give him much chance to overthink his every gesture.

“Favorite color?”

“Sunset orange”

“Favorite subject?” 

“In high school I really loved English” 

“And now?” 

Since that's sadly the perfect opening for a disaster in the making - whether that means having to return to the sinful topic of career choices or accidentally revealing one too many pieces of information about Daisy - he requires half a second longer to detour. 

“I… still love English” 

“Favourite food?”

“You're just going to keep going?” 

With an unreadable expression, Tan scans him from head to toe - which, he notes with amazement, doesn't make him feel scrutinised or objectified, it makes him feel seen. 

And that is definitely all the more terrifying. 

“Haven't even checked half of my boxes” 

Feigning exasperation, he hides his face in his hands and lets his shoulders slug. 

“What have I gotten myself into?” 

Tan's Pov: 

Something about tonight is… off. Not wrong, not uncomfortable. Just different. He can’t place his finger on whatever it is that’s not the same. Tan has another gift stacked up, another note expressing his sentiment in an admittedly muted way, but now, he’s overthinking this more than necessary. Technically, there’s absolutely no reason for him not to go through with this. It worked the first time, it should work tonight as well. This is the perfect opportunity to get closer to Daisy, to figure out how to continue, why Daisy is allowing this exchange, and what is going on between them. And yet, in his head, there's a constant reminder of all the disadvantages this comes with. 

Even if the voice he's listening to is identical to the one that took a hold of him so long ago, the features that are swimming in front of his eyes start to piece themselves together to a face he didn't have in mind previously. A very… recognizable one.

“You're kind of scaring me”

In the end, it’s him who gets startled by an ice cube grazing his skin. Frowning, he turns to Mary, who glares at him, then back to the stage, then back at him. 

“You're so… concentrated”

If she only knew it’s the opposite. That his mind is busier than usual, and he’s becoming untypically overwhelmed. 

“Like actually full blown working” 

She downs her drink as if it was actual liquor, then wipes her mouth as she slides the glass over the counter. 

“Are you okay?”

Truly, he's in no state to explain himself to his sister. Especially not about the bizarre fact that his meeting (he scolds his brain for an almost detrimental slip up) with Fang only served to make him more conflicted about his feelings - for Daisy and Fang equally. 

“Are you sick or something?” 

“Go away”

He begins collecting the glasses left behind and stacks them into two towers with ease. 

“You haven't looked over at him in five minutes”

One thing he appreciates about his sister: regardless of how much she makes fun of him, she'll always be the first and biggest helper (well, meddler).

One thing he doesn't appreciate: being painted as a person with unhealthy stalker tendencies. 

“You aren't even drooling”

“Shut up” 

He doesn't want to let it go. Not yet. Not after taking the first step proved itself to be successful. Still - he's unable to let Fang go, either. 

“Maybe…I'm just trying to follow your advice”

It bothers him - borderline pains him - to say those words out loud. Sadly, there's not another fitting description for it. 

“And concentrate on… something else as well”

As he begins washing the dishes quickly, he permits his mind to wander a bit, taking advantage of his sister not witnessing the expression he's pulling now. 

“Thinking about options”

Contrary to the scoff - or relieved groan - he anticipated, it almost sounds like she's letting out a thrilled shriek. 

“Finally”

That declaration is continuing his split in half:

Surprisingly, she encouraged him to take the first step, after all.

Unsurprisingly, Mary seems to also have her doubts clear. 

Chapter Text

Chapter 7

He does end up giving Daisy his gift.

Nothing flashy, or pushy. Nothing that could scream: ‘oh my god please notice me’. Just another drink - an electrolyte drink to replenish his energy - and a bag of tea to soothe his voice. This time, the message is even shorter. Not because he doesn’t want to add one, but because he’s unsure what to write.

‘For you’. 

What he also does that night is add Fang to his contact list. And perhaps stare at his profile picture just a tad too long. 

Fang didn’t hesitate in giving him his number - with a few warnings attached regarding time of contact and Fang’s apparent lack of such. 

The first message is a simple greeting. Exactly the same way Tan would say it to him personally. Fang reads it, but doesn't reply. Which, in theory, could make him worry. Be concerned that he did come on too strong, that he did make him uncomfortable, and he did ask too much. Yet, his mind is oddly calm, as if it's already associating specific traits to Fang. As if it's telling Tan that ‘yes, this is like him’. And so he doesn't worry. He simply sends another.

‘Are you free some time?’

A question which for some reason now does trigger some nervousness.

What if that's too straightforward? What if Fang thinks Tan wants something else than he's actually looking for? 

To soften the blow, he must justify it. Find a good reason. He acts based on his first instinct. The easiest and fastest solution.

As soon as he reads it though, he suppresses the urge to throw his phone against the wall. 

What a dumb mistake. 

Mary’s reaction - pulling the most disgusted expression he knows from her - is immediate. In hindsight, he expected exactly that. Maybe he should’ve called Peem about it. He’d probably be of greater help - and more understanding. 

“You can't be serious”

Well, technically, he truly isn't. It's less about the purpose of them meeting as more the meeting  itself Tan is excited about. 

His sister slides her blue light glasses down like a teacher grading an assignment. 

“Look, I don't care if you want to hit on him and ruin the friendship you have yet to build - as long as it doesn't ruin my friendship with him”

Then she pulls them back up in an exaggerated motion.

“But you had to do it this way?” 

Folding her arms - a posture which runs in their family - she leans back in her chair. 

“You had to say something stupid like that?”

With a heavy sigh - and a dramatic spin - he face plants onto her mattress, in hopes it might swallow him whole. 

“Tutoring?”

In response, he only pretends to whine, grabbing the nearest pillow. 

“You needing tutoring?”

He begins smacking it over and over against his head, as a means to make him forget that. 

“He's going to figure it out immediately”

Losing even the fight against the cushion, he drops it powerless back onto the mattress, instead dedicating to ripping out strands of hair. 

“Cause lying and pretending to be dumb is even dumber”

Tan knows - that's the worst part. He wants to yell at her that yes, this whole thing is stupid. But because it is so stupid, he's too embarrassed to reply at all. 

“And you'll lose him” 

In the background, he hears Mary stand up and push her chair back.

“You could've said anything easier”

Then the sounds of her socked feet padding over her carpet, ultimately stopping in front of him.

“but no”

Slowly lifting his head, he's met with her best disapproving glare (which she surely learnt from their mother). 

“It was the first thing that came to mind”

“And you didn't reread that message and thought ‘huh. Better not’?” 

While that thought did occur approximately half a second later, it was half a second too late to make amends - or come up with an idea to turn the tables back into his favour. 

“He already read it” 

Slumping down next to him - and therefore kicking him in the butt for good measure - this time deservedly so - she rubs her temples.

“I guess that's at least a good thing”

“How?”

Mary looks at him as if he's suddenly transformed into someone - or something - completely different in front of her eyes.

“Because that means he was waiting for you to text him”

Now it's her turn to abuse the pillow by groaning into it.

“God, honestly. For someone who claims to be so charming, you can be dense as hell”

He's still conflicted about how the fuck he's supposed to back paddle and get out of this one, when Mary props herself up and huffs out strongly, as if whatever thought process she just went through took all of her energy. 

“Okay go” 

Knitting his brows together, he follows her into a seating position, effectively getting closer to confirm he heard what he just heard - which sounded eerily like his sister agreeing with one of his less than flawless plans. 

“Do your tutoring. Flirt with your new crush. Do whatever you want”

Mary, in return, gazes back with a mixture of resignation - that one he's used to - and incredulity - that one he's not familiar with. 

Probably because she herself can't believe those words came out of her mouth. 

“But let me tell you something”

Her eyes are so intense, she doesn't even have to get physical to make him listen. He truly detests that this tactic has worked since they were children. 

“If you just use Khaofang to distract yourself or replace whatever version of Daisy you made up in your head, I will a hundred percent kill you”

Gulping - more for show and to appease her than actual intimidation- places two fingers against his forehead. 

“Scout’s honor”

The next morning, he arrives (uncharacteristically) early at the library. Since the university's is still closed for maintenance, Fang suggested using the public one. Tan was in favour of going to a coffee shop, but Fang told him he wouldn't be able to concentrate. By ‘he’, he referred to Tan. Obviously.

As if Tan could concentrate anywhere at all. 

Fang - characteristically (as far as he's aware) - arrives right on the minute, stopping just an inch short of Tan's chair, eyebrow raised. 

“What the hell is this?”

Instead of being (rightfully) offended at the initial animosity, he's too cheerful that Fang agreed to this in the first place. Despite both him and Mary knowing this could end very very badly, he believes it's a chance to get more information out of Fang - to take their relationship a bit further. From acquaintances to friends. That's the first step. 

“Good morning to you too”

Frankly, Tan is glad that he's charming enough to extend said charm beyond the workplace, since there's an undeniable, albeit subtle smile forming on Fang's lips - which he promptly gets under control. 

“Morning”

He slides onto the seat opposite of Tan, drops his bag on the one to his left, then clasps his hands together and rests his chin on top of it. 

“What is this?”

Putting up an innocent front, he pushes a cup of coffee towards him - a peace offering, maybe. 

“What do you mean?”

“I mean” 

Although the lines on his forehead don't soften yet, he takes a sip - then briefly widens his eyes. His shock most likely stems from Fang wondering how Tan figured out his coffee order. But Fang forgot that Tan has the perfect spy who reveals the discoveries of her nosiness all too willingly to him.

“I didn't take you for the type who'd need help” 

Finally loosening some tension, he tilts his head. 

“Or even ask for it” 

Tan doesn't know how to answer that, because saying ‘you kinda changed everything’ somehow doesn't feel appropriate.

“Sometimes, even the mighty fall”

In this case, the mighty may have fallen by twisting the truth a teeny tiny bit to fit their narrative. Nothing they can't recover from. With a final, vaguely suspicious nod, Fang commences with explaining - and Tan resumes where he left off in the cafe.

By staring at Fang's face. 

They get as far as twenty minutes before Tan abandons his textbook and leans over to admire Fang's multitasking skills. Not only is he explaining the mechanics of solving equations to Tan, he’s simultaneously scanning his own textbook and taking notes in his elegant, neatly handwriting. 

“So what is it you'd like to do more?” 

He doesn’t even meet Tan’s eyes as he switches over to an invented patient chart. 

“Still not letting it go, hm?”

Balancing his pencil on the bridge of his nose - whether out of boredom or to gain Khaofang’s attention, he isn’t certain - he tries to peek at Fang’s work. 

“I don't know”

Once it rolls off, he catches it effortlessly. 

“I guess you piqued my interest” 

Because his interlocutor - and current object of fascination - still can’t tear his eyes away from his study material, he promptly places his hand on top of it - and gets a line of marker drawn on it. 

“Come on” 

Finally, with a heavy sigh, and a loud pop of the lid, Fang sets his stuff aside. 

“It’s not like I can use it against you”

Freeing the sheets from under his grip, Fang pushes his chair slightly further to the right, then taps the (now closed) stationary against his knuckles. 

“Do your work”

Undeterred by the apparent coldness he’s receiving, he attempts to reclaim possession of Fang’s possessions. 

“Can we make a deal?”

While Fang does let out a frustrated groan, he’s stopped resisting physically - which Tan uses as an opportunity to inch his chair closer and lean further into his direction. 

“You’re not as persuasive as you think”

The last tactic available is an excessive pout and puppy eyes. It does work on his friends - and it doesn’t work on his sibling. Now, it’s time to find out what Fang’s choice is going to be. 

“Please?”

He can visibly see Fang struggle with his composure - and struggles with suppressing his victorious grin. 

“Ten exercises”

Although he’s grumbling, Tan once again notices the pink tinge in his cheeks when Fang shoves his body away from him. 

“Uninterrupted”

Threateningly - well, supposedly threateningly - he points a perfectly sharpened pencil at him. 

“Then I check” 

Mere minutes - Tan didn’t check the clock but it couldn’t even have been five - he turns his finished task to an amazed Fang. 

“You're good at this”

Frowning again - and therefore inviting Tan to make a comment about ruining his pretty face - he scans the answers in lightning speed. 

“You might be better than me”

“I know”

He winces slightly at the assuredness, praying Fang won’t take him as arrogant - or as a bully. 

“So why did you ask me to tutor you?” 

Surprisingly, it doesn’t sound suspicious, or guarded, or even particularly annoyed. 

Just genuine curiosity. 

“Just wanted to have an excuse to spend time with you”

Both of them fall silent at that. Strangely, not even Tan expected Tan to say that. 

“Did that line ever work on anyone?”

Collecting himself rather quickly, he puts on his natural smirk. 

“I don't know. You're my first test subject” 

Slamming the book shut, he dedicates himself to his homework again, adjusting his glasses - with trembling fingers. 

“Okay. Well, it didn't”

To probe if Fang is seriously mad - just in case he needs to make it up to him - he pushes a bit, knowing this could end in two very different ways.

“Don't worry. Next time, I'll prepare something better”

“Next time?” 

He sounds offended - although Tan is still figuring out if it’s sincere or not - so Tan raises his hands in surrender to make it clear that he doesn’t think of Fang as a gullible idiot. 

“Hey”

Carefully - since he isn't sure how thin the ice is he's walking on - he tugs gently at Fang's sleeve with a lopsided grin.

“Just because math isn't quite exactly something I need to learn from you-”

For a moment - probably not even ten seconds - he lets the silence linger without pressing forward, somehow trying to convey to Fang it'd be okay if he flinched back and abandoned him entirely. 

He wouldn't hold it against him. 

That doesn't mean he'd ever want him to.

“Doesn't mean there's nothing we can't teach each other”

Sheepishly, he scratches the back of his neck. 

“If you're not angry with me for lying to you” 

It’s a curse and a blessing at the same time, that he was born with such a light cadence in his voice. A blessing because the softness always prevented people from getting mad at him as a child. A definite curse because oftentimes, all his classmates, and friends, and family think he’s joking when he’s not. 

This is a time where he’s not. 

Not at all.

“I guess you must've had your reasons “ 

He doesn’t even realize he’s held his breath for Fang’s reaction until all air in his lungs gets released with that statement. Fang’s face looks far from pleased, nonetheless. 

“Although why you had to lie about this, I don't know” 

Yeah. He isn't sure either. Tan’s best guess is that he was simply afraid any other suggestion would be rejected instantly. Not because he believes Fang wouldn’t give him a chance - he just takes him for a different type of person than he is. 

In a manner that would surely gain a line from Mary about ‘pushing his luck’, he rests his chin in his palm and winks at Fang. 

“You owe me a secret”

“Technically, you cheated”

Feigning shock, he gasps loudly - which earns him a warning glare from the librarian and Fang alike. Giving her a small ‘Wai’, he leans over closer to Fang.

“Did I or did I not keep my part of the deal?”

Tan might be a persuader, but he’s not a manipulator, and what he certainly won’t do is force a reply from Fang for the sake of having one - which is how they end up staring at each other, Tan patiently waiting, Fang reluctantly participating. 

“I’ve always loved music”

He almost gave up the thought of continuing down this path, so the words take longer than usual to sink in. Ostensibly motivated by Tan’s reaction - or lack thereof - Fang apparently deems it safe to carry on. 

“It’s not like I don’t like medicine. Liked”

Finally gathering his stuff and putting it back into his satchel, he pushes his glasses back and massages the bridge of his nose. 

“But my parents… they ruined everything I ever loved” 

Since he doesn’t elaborate further than that, Tan decides to make a mental note for another day. 

“So I’m trying to either relearn to love it or hang on tightly to what’s precious to me”

For a moment, Tan imagines a younger version of Fang, desperately clutching an instrument, perhaps even crying, while his parents scold him for having a passion. 

It makes his chest feel tight. 

Astonishingly, the next hangout plans come very soon. Well, that's not the surprising part, since Tan was already pulling out his phone after waving Fang off at the bus station. No, the real unpredictable part was that Fang asked him first. And what made him stutter even more so is where he took him. What Tan expected was Fang requesting to go back to the cafe - after all it looked like he genuinely liked it there. However, he finds himself following Fang down the block, past the park, the mall, the thrift store his sister adores - so all mundane hang out spots - and farther downtown, where he stops in front of an apartment complex, identical to the ones left and right from it. 

That's when Fang hesitates and just keeps looking between the door and Tan, then to himself, then back. 

He's about to offer Fang to back out if he's not yet ready to share whatever is behind that door with Tan, and gives him a reassuring smile, when Fang gives him a final glance before turning the key in the lock. 

“Here we go”

The small studio is clean, bright, and despite the amount of utensils and stuff displayed, it neither looks cluttered nor feels crammed.

“This is my hideout” 

It's a declaration filled with neither celebration nor ceremony. In fact, Fang looks almost shy to claim something as his own - as if Tan would judge him of his decoration preferences. 

“Well, it's not mine technically” 

He observes how uninhibited Fang moves around the room, like this is the sole place he belongs in. Getting to witness him this laid back almost feels revolutionary to Tan. But, instead of being put off by the sudden transformation in demeanor, he buzzes with muted excitement that he's permitted to. 

“But no one else is using it” 

Then, it dawns upon him. He’s seen the pictures, the instagram stories, the blurry posts. This is - 

“It's my younger brother's boyfriend's place” 

Stunned, he freezes, waiting for his brain to catch up with that information. Once it's finished rendering, he turns to him perplexed. 

“Wait. Phum is your brother?” 

Fang glares back at him with equal bewilderment. 

“You know Phum?” 

This whole situation is so ridiculous - not in an annoying way, just utterly hilarious. 

So close yet so far away.

Why does that sum up his love life again? 

“We play football sometimes after class”

The way Fang's face moves depending on his mood could be comical - if it wasn't happening to Tan as well. 

“Besides, he's Peem's boyfriend”

Fang rolls his head to the side and casts him a scowl. 

“And Peem is one of my closest friends” 

Something - probably a specific memory - must've clicked in Fang's brain, since Tan welcomes back the blush spreading on his face as he hides it behind his hands. 

“So it's you he was talking about” 

“You knew about me?”

Technically, he shouldn't be this smug, considering Fang seems to be the type of person who finds it nearly infeasible to step outside his comfort zone. But Tan, growing up with the sister he has, never misses an opportunity to tease. 

“Who's the liar now?” 

“Shut up”

Somehow, the potential gateway into their ‘usual’ back and forth seems to have revived Fang - or at least his ability to explain. 

“I didn't know you were… you” 

That makes Tan perk up. Could it be that he missed the possibility of getting to know Fang because his friends couldn't keep their mouths shut? 

“What did they say about me?” 

Fang's expression shifts into his classic mysterious smirk - which reveals to Tan that in the next approximately few minutes , he'll have a lot of fun. 

“That you're silly, and stupid, and funny, and apparently very considerate despite looking like a player in the making” 

While he's unable to deny those claims, he also sees no reason to defend himself. None of these adjectives are flat out mean - just pretty accurate, if anyone asked him. 

“Your reputation precedes you” 

And yet, Fang's manner of initiating uncalled and unintentional ( or maybe very intentional) banter practically invites him to defy Fang, purely to keep the energy going. 

“Was that a compliment or an insult?”

“Exactly” 

“But if - wait” 

He was about to dive into an intense discussion about self perception, and perhaps his all too Universal people pleasing tendencies, when he registers he came with a purpose. And that he's too familiar with this strategy for it to be effective. 

“We're here to talk about you, not me” 

“Oops” 

Fang is already turning his back and walking to what looks like his designated sketch area, absentmindedly yet meticulously rearranging his pencils by color. 

“Here I thought I was winning” 

“Not a chance”

By no means is Tan an expert - and nor would he ever label himself as one - but, analysing it at face value, and comparing it to every portrayal he's witnessed, this is totally flirting. At least flirting adjacent. 

And he doesn't know why that revelation is so dramatic. If there's a person worth testing it out on, he couldn't have chosen a better recipient. 

Making a tour throughout the apartment, in search of not only Fang's but also Peem’s belongings, Tan listens to Fang explain the story on how he ended up ‘renting’ out the place from Peem, and why this particular space fits his needs perfectly. Right when he's about to retort - or inquire further - he spots it. Easily visible to everyone - except to Tan's heart, who could've overlooked it to spare him the bizarre agony. 

Considering Fang revealed a huge confidential side of himself, it's only fair he returns the favour. 

“You own a guitar?”

He shakes his head forcefully - mostly to get the shaky voice and bittersweet memories under control. 

“Sorry, that was stupid. Obviously you do” 

“You like guitars?”

Even if that answer is both expected and appropriate, it makes him feel strangely warm to not be met with judgement - even the teasing, playful kind. 

“I played when I was little. My dad taught me”

Thinking back to that part of his childhood is a weird thing for him to do. Not quite joyous, not entirely uncomfortable or sad. 

 “He was…very fond of filling our lives with music”

Tentatively, as if he’s touching something illicit - or sacred - his fingertips graze the shiny surface. 

“I didn’t touch one since he died”

“I’m sorry I asked”

It’s not exactly that Tan can’t stand pity, or condolences. He just has this weird quirk of his that seeing other people upset - even if it’s for him - makes him feel bad, which is why he, in return, always does his best to cheer them up. 

So Fang’s soft whisper, albeit well intentioned, only widens his smile.

“That’s fine. It’s good to talk about him sometimes”

He’s still gazing at Tan as if the latter could break at any minute. And Tan, despite being sure it won’t happen, is thankful nonetheless. 

“It's good to remember”

That security - the sense of  pure comfort he’s only ever had with a handful of people - doesn’t let him stray away from the topic at hand. 

“It's just - because of him, I learnt how to play” 

No one except his family and closest friends know that - or that he even knows how to play to begin with - but the way in which he treated Fang has never been formal or cordial. If anything, anybody else who would look at them would assume they’ve been friends for decades. 

“As soon as he was gone, so was my love for it”

Noticing that now, the atmosphere is getting truly too heavy, he buries his hands in his pocket and leans against the wall, raising an eyebrow mischievously. 

“But maybe, I can find it again” 

He chuckles low as he watches Fang beginning to get actually invested in his emotional well-being and folds his arms. 

“If anything, just to spite your parents further by encouraging you”

Intially, he expects to be greeted with -impartial fake - exasperation. Contrary to how he assessed it, his stance falters a tiny bit by seeing his eyes crinkle - and his relaxed face just enhances his natural beauty.

“I always knew you were trouble”

“When I walked in?”

A sound he’s never heard Fang make before - a mixture of snort and his adorable giggle - escapes him, and Tan is secretly proud he managed to achieve that. 

“You really are a bad influence”

“I work in a bar to support my family, I lie to you to keep you close, and I push you to achieve your dreams”

Narrowing his eyes, he drops his voice to an exaggerated low baritone, as he grabs Fang by the shoulders - purely to add in realism. 

“You should steer clear of me” 

With another short laugh, he shoves Tan away from him. 

“How many more pop culture references will you make?” 

“How many more do you know?” 

Exhaling much too shallow for it to be taken seriously, Fang cracks his knuckles. 

“Okay Christian Grey”

“I see myself more as a Darcy”

“You wish”

All of a sudden feeling a wave of bravery - consisting of endorphins or adrenaline - he steps closer again, bowing exaggeratedly at the perfect height to still perceive some faint ink smudges around his palms and wrists, probably from a midnight creativity spurt. 

“You haven't seen me in action yet”

“Alright, alright”

Hitting him over the head lightly, he grabs Tan's collar and straightens him out like a doll.

“Mr. Darcy”

Briefly, he wonders if Fang might actually be into that kind of classic literature. Or maybe he's into romance movies. Or perhaps he's more of an action fan? 

And then, his mind conjures up the dangerous image of asking him out to the movies.

But then, his conscious demands where the hell that came from. 

“Do you have a passion?” 

Fang's Pov: 

Tan blinks back at him as if he's forgotten how to speak out of the blue. Then it must dawn upon him that Khaofang did, indeed, talk to him. And that he did, indeed, pose a question requiring a more or less definite answer. Honestly, albeit uncomfortable to admit, he was simply encouraged by the pleasant atmosphere to hear more of him. 

“Ever since I was a child,I always wanted to try a million different things”

He begins to speak slower and tamer - and Fang knows exactly what's about to happen. 

“My parents always allowed me to… spread my wings”

Called it. 

In response to what must be a change in expression, he gets a raised brow and a pause - as if Tan wants to give him the chance to reply. 

He doesn't. 

And Tan understands.

“So I don't have a particular craving”

People tend to constantly urge their children - and other’s children - to consider the future. To search and find that one thing they’re great at, and to latch onto it and suck every little bit out of that - only to end up losing their spark for it. That’s what happened to Fang, at least. Not that he ever was that great at biology, or math - or compassion, to be frank. But, he found the parts he was fond of and threw himself head first into his work, figuring it has to be for the better. Turns out, it was for the worse, and now he truly has no goal in sight for his degree. Except perhaps those five minutes at family gatherings where his parents could boast about his achievements like they earned it. And maybe, if he’s really fortunate, and doubles down on his studies, a day where they don’t look at him with indifference.

Where they finally see the boy behind the report card. 

That’s why he created Daisy in the first place. That’s why he keeps coming back every weekend, and never arrives fatigued, and never leaves drained. Because singing, songwriting, his true calling - no one provokes him to be a genius at it. Nobody has expectations for Fang. 

“I guess…yeah, music always made me feel different”

Thankfully, he gets interrupted before his subconscious can signal to his eyes that he’s actually going through one of his ‘dip’ phases right now, the mental roller coaster speeding towards the bottom again. 

And he can practically feel the wagon being pulled up just a tad by the sound of Tan’s voice. 

“We wanted to become dancers”

For a moment, he imagines how that might’ve been. Him, in one of those crazy expensive, yet ridiculous costumes, jumping and rolling around on the stage. 

“Mary and I” 

Other people would reminisce on lost chances with some sense of nostalgia - like they’re still stuck on the what-ifs. Tan, on the contrary, unlike anyone else he’s ever met, simply grins, as if he can see the fantasy too. 

“Until…”

Swiftly, Tan’s face falls, and Fang is familiar enough with that kind of action that he won’t ask him what memory just popped up. 

“We found a more stable career path”

Playfully huffing, he bumps Fang’s shoulder. 

“Well. One of us”

“And I'm so proud of her” 

It’s almost second nature at this point, the rapid fire quipping. To Fang, the whole concept of replying unguarded, without having spent an adequate time forming a sentence that won’t leave him overthinking wording, cadence, intonation, is still a bit supernatural - and suspicious. 

“It's just a shame”

“What is?” 

Tan extends his arms and twists his body, as to encapsulate the whole space into them. 

“This”

He rolls his eyes purely out of reflex, and not intention - and he’s wholeheartedly aware of how… half-assed it came out. 

“Oh wow thank you”

Now it's Tan's turn to stare back at him with mild irritation. 

“That this exists only here”

Glancing past Fang, he nods at the pile of finished - and half finished - sketches, lyrics, and musical scores he started with and abandoned as soon as he deemed it ‘unoriginal’ and ‘boring’. 

“That no one else gets the privilege”

His first instinct - as per usual - is to deflect. To distract.

Make a throwaway joke about Tan not meeting the mandatory qualifications for evaluating his submissions by not having looked at it in the first place. 

But he can’t. The words get stuck in his throat. The alarm bells ring. 

There’s a flashing neon sign with the word ‘praise’ on it. 

And it’s the only thing he can currently see inside his head. 

“That you can't be as brave as I think you are” 

That earns a long silence, both of them and their environment so still, Fang fears Tan can listen to how frantically unstable and noisy his heart is beating. 

“I think people are afraid of themselves and their potential”

Pacing around the room like he owns it, he just carries on - and Fang has to exhale with much more strength than normal. 

“They're afraid to step outside of the box because they don't know what's beyond it”

Tan can't possibly know just how correct he's with that assumption. Which makes this ordeal that much more complicated to Fang. If he simply kept on dreaming about what Tan was like and how he'd treat him, he wouldn't have to work so damn hard to now keep it that exact same way. 

“They're scared of what else they could be, so they settle for something premeditated”

In most things, Fang would declare that control and agency are the key to everything. Living in a world without schedules, and plans, and guarantees would be the worst thing to happen. So he doesn't fully appreciate Tan opening up a view that could challenge his whole narrative. Because if he learnt one thing in the - albeit short - time spent with Tan is that he's incredibly convincing - and Fang easily manipulated when it comes to him. 

“Like you”

The next answer he anticipated is a continuation of Tan's philosophical musing, not him being put on the spot like this.

“Me?”

Picking up one of his drawings from the shelf closest to him, Tan inspects it thoroughly 

“I think you're afraid of what you could do with your talent” 

He lets it slither over the tabletop towards him, as if to indicate Fang must take a closer look since he - despite creating it - never saw it before. 

“And you have plenty of it”

Even if he wants to convince himself it's the fact he's gotten a compliment for the first time in his life, he can't ignore that Tan being the person to do so only amplifies the warm sensation in his stomach. 

“The way your mind works, the way you feel and think” 

Abruptly, he's travelled so far as to be able to tentatively lay his hand beside Fang's - who, in turn, feels the heat radiating from the former's body due to the vanished distance. 

“You should embrace it”

Not knowing what to do with himself - because no one's ever trained him on what to do when your one sided crush suddenly starts to drift into potential ‘mutual’ territory, he awkwardly pauses to collect himself - then promptly feels Tan's pinky nudging his. 

“You should share it with someone”

With all the strength and dignity and self preservation he has left, he slowly rotates - and catches sight of Tan's stare focused on his. And he recognises that what should feel foreign and unpleasant to him - to truly be noticed - is different in this context. With this person. 

It's freeing. 

“I think… I'm finally understanding how now” 

Chapter Text

Chapter 8 

His eyes automatically fall to Tan's lips - and see the two moles above his upper lip. While he did suspect them to exist, he wouldn't put it past Tan for it to be chocolate or something. After all, If he were to describe Tan in a noun, it'd be chaos. The smell of cinnamon and vanilla fills his head, and under any other circumstances, he'd welcome it. But then he also registers that the hand that's currently not caging his own is settling along his midriff and his face is inching closer and his intentions are undeniable and Fang is still stuck on how the hell Tan is already a hundred steps ahead of him, and they don't even know each other truly now, and Fang should most definitely stop him at least now because this is the worst idea any of them probably ever had but his body won't comply regardless of how hard he tries to pull away and oh my god this will happen - 

But it doesn't. Instead of committing the biggest mistake in his catalogue of mistakes, he's… well technically, he wouldn't say saved, because a part of him was looking forward to it - interrupted by Tan's phone buzzing in his bag. Flinching back - more due to the noise than anything else - he straightens his posture, abruptly too aware of every fibre in his body. He observes how Tan fishes the device out of his bag and stares down at it, an odd frown present. 

“Shit”

Then, the mood shifts 180 degrees, and as opposed to what would’ve happened - or what he wanted to happen - Tan moves away from him and not towards him. 

“I’m sorry”

And Fang - like the idiot he is - just trails behind him like a puppy goes after its owner. Maybe because he’s trying to find out what he read, or maybe because he’s longing for a few more seconds with him anyway. 

“I have to go”

He clearly looks upset - that emotion is the easiest to read for Fang because that's just his resting face - and it's a sight Fang isn't acquainted with, and doesn't really intend on getting acquainted with. 

“Family matter”

Briefly, he's caught off guard. Ever since he was a child, he grew up in a house filled with pressure, and expectations, and a punishment - reward point system, so the image of someone jumping up instantly running to aid a family member in need is foreign at best, utopian at worst.

The only person he'd throw everything away for is his brother. 

“Yes”  

Although totally uncalled for, he can't deny that witnessing Tan's unwavering loyalty, unconditional commitment and protective instincts don't intensify the urge to throw himself at him and finish what they started. 

“Yes of course”

However, his words don't seem to have the desired effect, since Tan is hesitantly swaying back and forth at the door, biting his lip in contemplation - probably because now he's growing concerned for Fang too - and it simultaneously makes him feel guilty for taking up more of Tan's time and much too excited that he cares. 

“Go”

Thanks to Tan being this good of a person, he manages to slip on his usual expression and gives him an encouraging push. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow”

In a final futile attempt, he endeavours to initiate one last round of banter, his brain convincing his consciousness it's the right move to make to not place any more strain onto Tan. 

“Even if I have no choice” 

The door closes far more softly than he anticipated - and Fang faceplants into the leather couch with a loud groan. 

Tan's POV: 

When he darts towards the well known hallways - he could probably go this route with his eyes closed - he’s already stopped by the nurse who usually tends to his mother, who pulls him into the room next door to explain what went down. Apparently, it all happened so fast, and the doctors have yet to figure out what caused it, but her heart just stopped. They immediately called code blue and went to work. Tan is certain he must be whiter than a bedsheet, since she lays a hand on his shoulder and reassures him that it took them only under two minutes to get the rhythm back, which indicates a preferable outcome. After she finishes explaining, he takes a second to sit down and breathe. The weight of the day settles on his shoulders. Obviously, there’s no use in comparing a kiss with a potentially fatal incident, and yet, both of these things trouble him for two very different explanations. 

However, now that his mother is taken care of, it’s time for the next most important person in his life.

Once that’s done, he makes a mental note to text Khaofang. 

There's definitely some unfinished business. 

Without turning his back, he slams the door, and stalks to Mary’s room. He finds her curled up on her bed, knees to her chest, eyes glued to her screen, and her headphones blaring music at a volume he’s able to discern even from a distance. Patiently, he waits for her to notice him. One thing he knows about his sister - and one thing they’ve established as a rule in their family long time ago - is to always let the other person approach you first if they want to talk. A rule which is especially helpful when someone has a sibling who resembles a cat in every bad way - including the distaste for human interactions. Thankfully, they’ve had a telepathic connection since they were born, so it only takes a few seconds for her to ultimately look up and press pause. 

He could begin this with a big monologue, pull out the speech about always being there for her, or strategically switching topics to ease the atmosphere - but the look on her face tells him everything he needs to hear. 

“What's wrong?”

Seemingly disinterested, she puts her things aside as he advances and sits a bit further away. 

“Nothing” 

Attentively, he once again lets some time pass to give her the opportunity to open up first. But Mary has always had a tough time communicating her feelings - not because she thought her family wouldn't care, but because she's as big of a people pleaser as Tan is. She just acts on it differently. 

“You can let it out” 

“I'm fine” 

Which is why, contrary to what others would do, he won't let it go. He'll persist and knock against her shell until it breaks. 

And, identically to all these years ago, one look, one touch, one wavering smile is sufficient to trigger the chain reaction. 

One, the desperate suppression of tears. 

Two, the repeated sniffing to mask the now visible tears.

Three, the acceptance of said tears. 

“This…this is not what we do” 

As opposed to him, his sister has never been someone to shed tears easily, even as a child. In this moment, though, as he witnesses her blinking them furiously away as she repeatedly cracks his knuckles to soothe herself, he scoots closer carefully, not yet intending to interrupt her. 

“This is not who we are” 

Rolling sideways, he reaches out to grab a tissue from her nightstand, quietly observing her as she blows her nose, then holds it in front of her face - both for the occasion that she cries again, and to disguise it. 

“We're happy… unfazed “ 

Giving her a reassuring smile - the kind he only has when he goes full ‘big brother’ mode - he wraps an arm around her shoulders. 

“The fucking power rangers”

As he watches Mary crack a smile, he releases some of the tension he’s been subconsciously holding. 

“That's your choice of superhero?”

“I got you” 

He has to say it out loud, must remind himself just as much that it's the truth. That, despite everything being on the verge of going downhill, despite their mother not being out of the woods with certainty, they'll never have to go through it alone. 

And if the worst case scenario does take place, it won't hurt any less, but at least none of them has to take the burden on by themselves.

Although Tan knows that the share won't be equal and he'll make sure of that. 

“We'll get through it” 

Getting bolder now that he's crept his way in, he puts his chin on her head and hauls her in closer. 

They have numerous times before.

They have today. 

They will tomorrow and every day after. 

“It's okay” 

Not knowing how to proceed confidently - due to this being an extraordinarily rare occurrence - he resorts to the comfort method that always worked, and slowly pets her hair. Although she snorts audibly, she lets it happen without protest. 

“I love you” 

“Gross”

Tan, however, being familiar with all of her quirks and coping mechanisms, begins rocking them like all those times before, just to hear her giggle. 

Full on childlike giggle. 

The walls are torn down. 

“... Love you” 

Fang's POV: 

He's not spiralling. 

Not at all. 

And he isn’t replaying that instance in his head over and over again. 

He isn’t. 

Just as much as he’s not overthinking the implications of that moment. If that really happened, what would’ve followed? Tan asking him to go out? Make a big declaration? Be just as shy as Fang would be - scratch that - was? Could he even do that? Could he date Tan while being fully aware he’s concealing the most crucial part about himself? 

So he’s not doing that. He’s completely chill. Chill and cool and composed and controlled and totally not spiralling. 

Also -

“Hello there, my favourite brother”

Adjusting his frames on his nose, he sighs. Not that he isn’t happy to see (or hear) her. It’s more like he’s concerned about what she’s bringing. 

“Wrong brother”

Then, it’s Mary’s turn to sigh heavily as she lowers herself onto the bench, basically dumping her lunch tray on the tabletop. 

“I wish it was real”

Upon seeing his disgusted expression - probably because she didn't understand the implication of that sentence - she scoffs at him.

"Brother in law"

At this point, he’s not bothered, not even surprised, by her presence. Day after day, she spent lunchtime at his table in the back, sometimes joined by Tan, oftentimes alone, just to chat with him about everything. Initially, he was uncomfortable with his own selfish desire to use her as a connection to Tan. But now, weeks later, they’ve hardly talked about him to full extent. Instead, he’s found out much more about his connection to Mary - like how they both can’t stand the textures of tomatoes, or would rather die than admit they love romance novels, or their shared caffeine addiction. 

So he enjoys it when she shows up. 

Except when she shows up carrying that look - the same one her brother has.

The one that means trouble. 

“So… I was thinking…”

“And I’m leaving”

“Wait”

Her fingers pinch his sleeve with an amused smirk - since both of them are perfectly aware he’s not going anywhere. Which is why he lets himself be pulled down again.

“I have an idea”

He barely manages to scrunch his nose apprehensively before she carries on unbothered.

“To help you with all that Tan stuff, you know”

She shoves a spoonful of rice into her mouth, and he scrunches his nose anew - this time in disgust, since the chewing is more than unpleasant. 

“Because there seems to have been great progress”

“Without your help”

Wordlessly, she raises an eyebrow, as if to challenge him to rephrase that - or at the very least, rethink that. 

“Now that you’ve went on your first dates-”

Quickly, he lifts his hand to interrupt. 

“Who said it was a date?”

Placing her palm on top of his fingertips, she tilts her head at the same time that she pushes it back down. 

“Please. What else was that? I’m sure you got enough studying done”

Incapable of holding back any longer, he rolls his eyes at the siblings’ poorly executed plan. Although, all things considered, he isn’t too positive he would’ve agreed if Tan flat out asked him to hang out. 

“Yeah. Thanks by the way, for letting that happen”

“Exactly. My credit”

Unfazed by his (poorly performed) disdain, she tosses her hair over her shoulder - a move done for emphasis rather than practicality, considering the length of it makes the tips barely meet them. 

“Which means I know what I’m talking about when I say I’ve never seen my brother do this”

Leaning over - and therefore unconsciously inclining her tray dangerously steep - she reaches out to pat his cheek. 

“Good for you”

Considerately, he eyes the potential disaster. Mary, who finally follows his gaze, lowers herself gracefully to avoid spilling food - regardless of being eager to spill everything else. 

“What have you done?”

“Nothing much. Not yet”

She clasps her hands together and eyes him with a mixture of curiosity and arrogance, as if she's about to propose the biggest business deal in her - or Fang's - career. 

“But I can plant seeds. Drop some hints here and there”

Just like her brother, Mary seems to be able to read minds, modifying her expression to something more cheerful. 

“I’ll be your campaign manager”

Exactly like the first time they ate together, he's glad one of them can make jokes about his torment.

“I’ll market you”

Fun.

There’s no outcome of that declaration that would be favorable to Fang. In fact, there’s very little she could promote him with in the first place. 

“I feel like that’s the opposite of helping”

One thing he's hopelessly trying to avoid is letting Tan believe he wants anything from him except - well, except maybe Tan himself. 

“Besides, I think I prefer to let things…”

He clears his throat awkwardly to gain some time. 

“Take their natural course”

In response, she gapes at him, as if he just announced he’d pack his bags and move halfway across the world. 

“Then you can wait decades until he makes his move. You need to be more interesting than Daisy, more present-”

Whenever that subject - and its associated name - drops, he’s too scared to accidentally slip up, so he’s already taking a deep breath to protest - but at least Mary herself seems to want to move on rather swiftly. 

“At least you got your looks down, with or without glasses and severe sleep deprivation”

“I - thanks?”

Seriously, these two will give him severe emotional whiplash sooner than later. 

“But listen, Mary-”

“Khao, who sat beside you every lunch to get to know each other and hasn’t told Tan anything I know? I didn’t even use it against you”

Narrowing his eyes, he folds his arms.

“That’s a low bar”

“Who spent the whole night texting you to convince you to invite Tan to hang out with you?”

In his defence, he didn't even ask for assistance - because he didn't mean to do it in the first place. He only enjoyed finally having an outlet for all these bottled up emotions. 

“Who tried to give you some - very objective, might I add - strategies to deal with your short circuiting whenever he so much as says your name?”

“That's a bit too much…” 

But the sound of his objection goes unnoticed.

“Who did -”

“Okay, okay”

Whenever Mary demonstrates him a play by play of his actions led by his humiliating crush (at least he finally eradicated the ‘unrequited’ part), he questions his growing affections for her. 

“You made your point”

Reclaiming his iced latte - Mary has that beautiful habit of evading having to pay for her own stuff (Tan's words, not his) - he takes a big sip to convey his impeccable nonchalance. 

“But honestly. There’s no need for meddling”

Fang observes the manner in which her face switches into variants of ‘disappointment’ - and he starts to believe she's doing this as much for his sake as to satisfy her own need of poking her nose into her brother's affair. 

Which, being the older sibling, he unfortunately is accustomed to. 

“Are you giving up? Did he say some shit? Do I need to kick some ass? Or-”

“We kissed”

Silence.

Mary slaps her hand in front of her mouth to conceal a really unconcealed squeal. Fang is equally shocked - the negative kind, though.

Mortified. 

He absolutely did not mean to tell her, knowing it'll only make things worse. But it was getting too tiresome steering the conversation away and refraining her from meddling. He might not be her friend for decades, but he's pretty sure meddling is Mary's equivalent to food.

Or breathing. 

“I mean he kissed me. I mean he wanted to - he tried to kiss me. We almost kissed. Almost. We didn’t kiss”

With each explanation he provides, he becomes painfully aware that there's truly no going back now. 

“Oh my god”

While he anticipated Mary to never comply with his wishes - like her older brother - he still winces when her voice rings through at least half the cafeteria the same second Fang shushes her. 

“Oh my god!”

The next smack - or the next dozens- are dedicated to his shoulder and chest, all while he tries his best to not let his body language connect with his brain - and remain in control.

“And you didn’t tell me? He didn’t tell me?!” 

“It literally happened yesterday”

As if on cue, he glances around, but to his relief, none of the students give the impression of being particularly engaged in Fang's affair. He wonders if it were different if it was Tan sitting in front of him. 

“And I reckon you were… busy”

That puts Mary's antics on pause.

“You know?”

He presses his lips together, putting together a tasteful answer - not that he's ever been taught to be anything but ‘on your best behaviour’. 

“Just enough to know it’s more important than… that”

“Stop doing that dramatic pause thing”

Promptly, he huffs - with exhaustion, not exasperation - and grumbles about the order, obeying nonetheless. 

“This is a big deal” 

Shaking his head, he pretends to be more occupied with his fried chicken than his own head and its dense crowd of intruders. 

“A tiny deal at best”

The forced chuckle and his minimally trembling fork however don't support that proclamation. 

“It’s a small step for a man, but a big step for humanity”

“That’s not even correct”

Jumping up, she starts to be overtaken by the purple cat in wonderland again - something Fang very much doesn't appreciate - and whispers ominously before he has the chance to scold her for it. 

“It’s one step closer to you actually becoming my brother in law”

“Mary!” 

“See you around, Hia!”

Then she races off, abandoning her lunch for Fang to get rid of. 

He’s still most definitely not spiralling hours later as he leaves the faculty building and makes his way to the bus stop. For a moment, he considers simply going the other way and sparing himself the mental torture of returning to the cage called ‘home’, but he has no clue if that will help him in any shape or form anyway. Because whatever he’ll do, he won’t stop thinking about how bad he messed up thanks to Tan. Never in his life will he say that his parents are right about anything, but perhaps love does get in the way of life like this. Technically, it’s not truly Tan’s fault, since he didn’t intend to have Fang lose all his focus throughout the entire classes by that. If he doesn’t get a full mark on this, he’ll totally get punished, he might get grounded, he can’t see Tan - or Mary - for a while, he’ll get mad at the wrong people for it, he’ll isolate himself further, or grow even more unlikeable, and it could affect Daisy’s performance, and that’s the only outlet he has for any normal human interaction, and they’re totally going to stop liking him -

“Watch out!” 

Without registering it - mainly since he's absolutely not spiralling - he must've crossed the street (or attempted to), since the sound of engines comes strangely close. Instead of being hit by the bike that now speeds past him with a mumbled curse, he collides with another chest. Apparently though, his saviour miscalculated either Fang's height or weight, since they both tumble down the sidewalk, and even if the other guy shields him, he senses the pavement scrape against his skin. 

“Jesus Fang”

Great.

Just the person he was waiting for. The universe must really want to test his limits today. 

Carefully - and much too gentle, in his opinion - Tan helps him to his feet, beginning to clean Fang's uniform, despite his own looking far worse. 

“Are you okay?”

As he assesses the harm done to them both, he picks up his bag.

“Shit, that was close” 

Silently, Tan scans him from head to toe and in reversal, and to intercept that godforsaken flutter in his chest, he waves him off dismissively. 

“I’m fine”

“Are you sure? That was pretty-”

“I’m fine!”

The truth is, he's not fine. Not in the slightest. 

But at this point, it has nothing to do with his physical injuries.

“No, you’re shaking”

Evidently so, to the degree that not acknowledging it will alert Tan of his unwellness. 

“And you’re bleeding”

Following the path Tan's fingers creates, he spots the bright red stains on his pristine white dress shirt. 

“Oh”

“Do you want me to help you?”

He whips his head so fast around that he suddenly registers how stiff his neck feels. Reminiscing the hour after Tan left yesterday, though, he doubts it can be attributed to this accident. 

“At least let me accompany you to the doctors. Or let me buy you a band-aid”

Calculating all his options, he tallies the advantages and disadvantages. Fang, however - or rather Fang’s heart - is the biggest hypocrite on earth, and he’s conscious that regardless of which side wins, he’s already made his decision. 

“Okay”

“Okay?”

The somewhat confused reaction could puzzle him, considering he was the one to offer. Yet, Fang can't blame him. It was him who ignored Tan's calls, texts, and presence for over twelve hours without any reason. 

“Okay, yeah”

His complete demeanor lights up then and there, and even after how abnormal these past two days were, it strangely relaxes Fang as well. 

“Can I touch you?” 

The nod comes faster than the contemplation about it, and then Tan's warm, steady arm holds his waist and guides him to… he isn't sure. 

But he doesn't care, either.

Instead of doing what he initially planned - getting some space from Tan to sort himself out - he's going home with him. 

Well, not exactly in the way other people would imagine it - but the emotional meaning stands. 

The whole way back to Tan’s home - a short one - he wondered if Tan was planning on letting go. Not fully because he wanted him to, or he felt uncomfortable, but simply because he expected it. Obviously, he’s very much capable of walking and holding himself up independently. And yet, it wasn’t until they entered through the door and walked into the living room that Tan sat him down onto the sofa that his arm left Fang’s skin. Afterwards, he stood in front of him and wasted a beat glancing down at him. When it started to become too long for Fang’s sanity, his cheeks burning, Tan averted himself and went back the way they came. 

'Wait here' 

That’s all he said. So, Fang is doing precisely that. 

Only about three minutes - not that he counted - he returns with rubbing alcohol and gauze. He rolls up his sleeve, inspects the wound - that surely cannot be as deep as to require gauze - and then seizes the transparent plastic bottle and a cotton pad. 

Prior to getting to work however, he sets his tools down again and steps over to a box. He observes as Tan presses some buttons, and then there’s music filling the space. Not the overwhelming type, merely background noise.

“What are you doing?”

Kneeling down while facing him, Tan picks up his stuff again.

“What my mum always did for us when we were children”

WIth a far too focused face, tongue poking out and everything, Tan disinfects the lesion, finalizing it by blowing on it softly, then wrapping it up. 

And, perhaps a bit too late, Fang can at least cross out one point on his list of ‘missed out childhood experiences’. 

“To distract from the pain”

Thankfully, he had plenty of practice to become the most skilled actor when it comes to hiding emotions, so, in spite of it stinging unequivalently to its size and severity, he’s gained a pretty good grasp of tolerating pain. 

“I’m not a child”

“If you want, I can turn it off”

“No. It’s nice” 

The answer that almost escapes him is ‘you’re nice’. This day, however, has been embarrassing enough that he does not need to lean into every other existing cliche of ‘the most cheesy rom-com’. 

For some reason, his reply isn’t enough to satisfy Tan. 

“What do you normally do when you need to cheer up?”

Instinctively, he bites his tongue, since retorting with ‘I usually don’t’ could be considered the literal definition of ‘mood killer’.

To redirect this interaction back into safe territory, he does what he does best.

Deflect.

“What do you do when you need to release some of your cheerfulness?”

By now, Tan has sat down beside him, lightly bouncing. He isn’t sure whether it’s purposefully or not, but Tan’s hand hasn’t left his knee the whole process of patching him up. Currently, it lays there still, like Tan forgot it’s even there - or that his limb is part of him. 

“What’s wrong with being happy?”

Too fast to prevent it from happening, he’s already laughing again. A laughter that’s ninety nine percent air, since the feeling is foreign to him, but a laughter nonetheless. Every minute he’s with Tan, he’s laughing. 

“No person on earth can be this energetic all the time”

“Want me to give you some energy?” 

Grabbing the remote, he switches from an acoustic instrumental to a movie soundtrack - an awfully intimate one Fang has listened to about a thousand times - and increases the volume, the music now blasting through the entire apartment. Khaofang, being the stuck up he was raised to be, mentally writes an apology note to Tan’s neighbors - the latter seemingly not caring at all what others think of him.

Must be nice to live a life that’s not dictated by everyone around you. 

Not breaking the habit, Tan does the one consistent thing he’s done so far - the unexpected - and offers his hand for Fang to join him. 

“You’re so weird”

Honestly, he isn’t fully feigning reluctance. Admittedly, he’s scared of inadvertently doing a thing he’ll regret. 

“Sometimes, after a stressful day, you gotta dance it out”

Try as he might, his head stays empty of good justifications to not give in, so, with an exaggerated eye roll to preserve some of his self respect, he fulfills the nonverbal demand. 

“Sure, Meredith Grey”

Arching a brow, Tan guides him into the common starting position Fang has exclusively witnessed in movies and the theatre. 

“Oh, who’s the pro at pop culture now?” 

In an inelegant endeavour to hide his smile, his nose scrunches - and in return makes Tan smile very openly. 

“You. Weirdo” 

Both of them fall into a clumsy two step pattern, and although they are struggling partially, Tan successfully and efficiently achieves to keep the rhythm intact. 

“And yet, you already feel better” 

Maybe that’s the greatest mystery on earth - how humans like Tan can exist. People who are just naturally good. People who were born with the talent of transmitting parts of that goodness to others. 

“Admit it” 

Technically, he would, if the crinkle in Tan’s eyes hadn’t erased every word inside his head for a moment. 

“The soundtrack choice is… a choice”

“What’s wrong with it?”

In an instant, Tan’s wide grin - and therefore the puppy comparison - is back, and just like the first time it arose to him, he isn’t weirded out by it. It’s a fitting contrast to his own grumpiness, he surmises. Or hopes. 

“Enemies to lovers, time travel fantasy, soulmates trope not your thing?”

He might be biased, but Tan is possibly the sole person in this world that could make a sentence like that sound normal. It’s absurd, and stupid, and serves to break the tension sufficiently to make Fang a tenth braver. 

“It’s my favorite movie”

“Funny”

Considering his brain stops working once Tan looks at him - he’d never tell Mary she’s correct though - it’s no surprise Tan manages to spin him dizzy - and he doesn’t complain. 

“Mine too”

Tragically, Fang is too far gone, and regards everything Tan as adorable, so he won’t expose that trivial and unfairly charming lie. 

“Which means this will also go on the list”

“The list?”

Tan raises a side of his mouth - a fairly ordinary gesture that should surely not be this influential to Fang because how the hell does he make moles look that attractive? - and Fang catches himself soon enough to not reveal every detail of his haplessness. 

“Oh. That list” 

They come to a halt. Now that he isn’t compelled to pay attention to not step on Tan’s foot, or drop a random and inconvenient confession, he comprehends how ridiculous this is. 

While he has nothing to confirm his thesis, he supposes this must be a Tan thing.

Friends don’t do this, right?

What even are they? Are they friends? Aren’t they? How did they even get here? 

How is it that six weeks ago, he dreamt of Tan knowing his name, and now Tan likes him. 

Not Daisy. Not Khaofang.

Him. 

All thanks to a coincidence. 

“I think we’re even thinking the same thing right now”

The imagination that what he convinced himself to be a misinterpretation or a misunderstanding of Tan’s intention could actually be reality makes his heart beat into his throat, unable to be swallowed. 

“I don’t think that’s possible”

“Wanna try me?” 

And oh, if that wasn’t the completely wrong thing to say. 

Since yesterday - untrue, since the first day he saw him, but yesterday more than ever - he’s seeking the result of that task. 

“You know what else we have in common?”

A very unlucky synapse in Fang's brain must've burnt out in place of firing like usual due to Tan's inescapable proximity, since he doesn't remember suddenly having his hand on Tan's nape and kissing him. Okay, it might not have been a kiss. A peck at best. 

But he still did that. 

He. Kissed. Tan. 

An impulse that cost him his pride, dignity, and every sense of self preservation.

“Oh - oh god”

Instantaneously, he squirms, his eyes automatically searching for an emergency exit - his counterpart, though, doesn't move at all, simply stares at him with a blend of amazement and fondness. 

Endearment.

Giddiness.

Something positive at least. 

Sadly, like normal, Fang is way too caught up in his own head, too busy with his own feelings to deal with Tan's current situation. 

“Oh my god, why did I do that?”

Contradictory to his desire of escaping, Tan still has him in a secure hold - not too tight to feel suffocated, but tight enough to let Fang know he means it - and he lets his forehead fall against Tan's shoulder ashamed. 

“This is so… I’m so sorry Tan. I -”

Due to him being preoccupied with convincing the ground to swallow him, he perceives Tan moving once the latter’s fingers are actively lifting his chin tenderly so they’re eye to eye again. Hesitantly, Tan’s thumb brushes over his bottom lip - and Fang puts way too much effort into fixating on counting Tan’s freckles to not go up in flames. 

He doesn’t find it useful. 

“We both were dying to do this” 

The touch of Tan’s lips on his own is gone as fast as it takes him to blink when he feels it. Then, Tan’s face rests close enough so that their noses brush, the former probably testing the waters. Fang, however, ultimately connects the dots of what’s going on, and succeeds in giving him a small nod, the remainder of his willpower invested in keeping his knees from going weak. Apparently, that muscle jerk is all that’s necessary for Tan to kiss him again - this time, with much more intent, much more intensity, and far less humiliation. 

And a whole lot of complications to ensue.

Chapter Text

Chapter 9 

Almost as if his fears are talking to him directly, he jolts back - and Tan, disarmingly attentive Tan, catches on to whatever pit he was about to fall into by tightening his grip and preventing him from fleeing - although, Fang believes his knees may have given out before he could’ve even gotten as far as take one step. And that would increase his humiliation scale by roughly another 100 percent. 

“Everything okay?”

He likes to assume that what Tan is referring to is Fang’s inconvenient talent of making every situation worse by simply existing in it, and not that he’s truly worried about Fang himself. Who is going to war with his own self doubts, despite his body already leaning back into Tan’s touch.  

“No. Yes. I-” 

“Did I do something wrong?” 

“No!”

Judging by the way Tan’s frown deepens, he’s certainly not making it better with his lackluster reactions. Hiding his face, he contemplates which course of action will be the least mortifying. 

“I'm sorry” 

He can perceive a chuckle from the other person, and he has no idea how a single laugh can calm him down and make him more nervous simultaneously. No person should be able to do that. It doesn’t make any sense, logically. 

“You're sorry about me kissing you?” 

“I'm sorry about me kissing you first” 

There’s warm fingers curling around his wrists, gently peeling away his layer. Then, there’s soft russet eyes - and a smile that Fang knows is supposed to be reassuring, but definitely transmits more insecurity than Tan probably intended to. 

“Do you regret it?” 

He shakes his head - since it’s currently the only nonverbal answer he can provide - attempting to force out some semi coherent explanation.

“No… it's just…I…you…” 

In a last futile endeavour to not get overwhelmed, he scrunches his stinging nose and instead focuses on the ceiling to keep the tears at bay. 

“This will ruin everything” 

“Okay. Let's slow down for a second” 

It’s not fair.

The way Tan’s voice remains kind and earnest.

No scolding. No mocking. Not even a side glance. 

Pure understanding. 

It’s not fair. He’s not used to this. 

If that alone didn’t make Fang lower his head, then Tan cradling his face would’ve easily done the job. 

“Rewind. Can I ask you what's bothering you?” 

He’s aware it’s dangerous how much control he’s giving Tan - yet, a small part of him finds relief in letting someone else take the reins for once, especially in an area so foreign to him. 

“Can you tell me what you’re so afraid of?”

“It’s stupid”

“I’m sure it’s not”

“It’s childish”

“No fear deserves to be ridiculed”

At some point, he fears he has to do some personal research on the topic of emotional intelligence and if people are born with it or if it can be taught - and where the line is between that and manipulation, because in a matter of minutes, Fang has gone from bolting to wanting to stay just a bit longer. 

“Everything has a reason”

Although he tries, he can’t suppress the groan of frustration that leaves his mouth - frustration strictly with himself. 

“See? This-”

Helplessly, he flails around one arm in front of Tan. 

“This is my fear”

“Me?”

Meanwhile, Tan has shifted from concerned to confused - and Fang isn’t sure if that’s an improvement. 

“Yes. No. I mean yeah. Sort of”

Tan tilts his head, and now he resembles a puppy. 

“You… your understanding. Your kindness. Your gentleness”

It’s too early for all of this. It’s too early to let Tan in like this - it will only end up scaring him off. 

“The way you make me feel seen”

They had their first kiss, and he’s already rambling out a movie worthy confession - the comedic type at best. 

“The way you see me”

This remarkably irritating skill of Tan to live his life and therefore perturb Fang's - in the most bizarre manner. Like he wants to expel him from it to protect his normal - his routine - the predictable. Concurrently, this could be the opening for him to actually acquire the final push for resistance. If Tan turns out to be the person he expects him to be, then that could convince him that it's possible to have both - love and success. 

Sometime. Somewhere in the future. 

“I’m scared of losing it. Losing you”

Fang wants to take it back the second he says it. What the hell is he thinking? A future? Has he gone insane? They're not even dating yet and he's idolizing the poor guy? 

Like he's some fantasy. 

Scratch that.

To Fang, he is a fantasy. 

Picturing him as that encourages Fang to preserve a veil of emotional distance. 

“I’ve got taught over and over again, that regardless of what other people tell you, how they treat you, in the end, there’ll always be someone or something they care about more than you”

He hates to play the victim card, this obvious call for pity - but, if all goes well, it could aid Fang in justifying himself when he has to disclose his shameful lie to Tan. 

“And you just have to deal with the pain. And the emptiness”

The most detrimental piece to expose him as the most pathetic loser on earth - that those few moments he caught sight of Tan were the highlights of his week - he’ll keep to himself. No need to pile on further, this is horrifying enough as it is. 

“And with you? I can’t do that. I can’t risk it”

Above all because now Tan has genuinely set off a chain reaction in Fang's department of pent up emotions by accident.

“I can’t stand feeling like I don’t matter to you”

In some ways, he classifies what he’s doing as foreshadowing - voicing his reason for his future (and present) misdemeanor. 

“Like we never mattered”

Gazing at him with empathy, he releases Fang and sits down onto the armrest of the couch, tugging Fang closer by the wrist this time. 

“Fang, listen to me”

His thumb runs from Fang's pulse point to his palm and back in soothing curves. 

“My mother is really sick”

“I know. I’m not asking you to put me first or anything-”

“Listen”

Whereas Tan's tone remains tender and composed, it serves to make Fang bite his tongue - and lip in the process. 

“My mother is sick. And we don’t fully know what’s happening with her, and the doctors don’t know what’s wrong with her”

Slowly, he comprehends Tan’s sudden exit to its full extent - and he feels like an even bigger jerk for being mad that he had to leave. 

“Some days, she’s laughing, and talking, and joking like she did before. Like nothing happened”

To distract himself from his wave - or most likely strong currents - of self-hatred, he observes Tan’s changes in expression as he recounts his history.

“On other days, she can’t even sit up by herself”

“I’m sorry”

Surprisingly, Tan snorts at that condolence, like it’s something funny - or rather, absurd. 

“But it’s my mother who taught me something important”

He looks down at Tan from the elevated height difference, marvelling at how easy it can be for someone to just…be sincere. Honest. Open. 

Without fear. Without shame. Without constantly thinking and overthinking their words. 

Must be nice. Or at the very least, less heavy. 

“To us humans, life is the most precious thing we own”

Swiftly, he imagines what Tan would do if he just sat down on his lap - perfectly aware that either his body, his brain, or both would put a barrier in between Tan and him.

“You know why?”

Precisely like various other times recently, Tan guides him out of his oppressive headspace. Because either way, the answer to this question stays the same, he shakes his head. 

“Because it’s the one thing we never had to work for. We don’t have to fight to be alive. For the most part”

He can’t help his own chortle that escapes him at that cheeky add-on. 

“And a life wouldn’t be a life without any experiences, or emotions. That would just be existing”

Then, it’s his turn to nod. He might not be well versed in philosophy, but he’s (secretly) read enough romance novels to be acquainted with that thesis. 

“So, it could be that this - us - won’t last our entire lives. It might not always be perfect because we aren’t. And it could be a disaster”

Those premonitions should fuel his pessimistic attitude, but the breeziness that Tan exudes while declaring them alert him that this isn’t meant to be some grand disappointment. 

“But it could also be the best fucking thing that’s happened to us”

Apparently reading his mind, Tan tentatively holds his waist again, gazing back at him as if he didn't do it before, like he's silently promising him that it's okay to say no. 

Fang would probably never say no to Tan.

That's how dumb these butterflies make him. 

“And you?”

He scans Fang head to toe, making him feel exposed in the best way - like he’s begging for Tan to discover things he hasn’t yet. 

“Heartbreak or not, whatever happens, you’ve shaped my life already”

At the same time he jumps up, he draws Fang into a hug. 

“You could never not matter”

Call him crazy - a term that’s strictly forbidden in his household - but there’s no rational evidence that he could ever leave any lasting impression on another person, let alone influence any quality of their daily life. He’s always been a background character in other stories - even in his own. 

“Why me?”

“Why not?”

Unintentionally, he scowls at the rhetorical dodge. 

“Feelings - especially the intense ones - don’t always require a logical explanation”

Yes they do. At least to Fang - or Fang’s family. Although they were never abusive, or absent in that sense, whenever he brought a complaint or a merit, they inquired about its worth to Fang and them. 

Why do you feel that way?

Are you sure that it’s bad or was that your first reaction because other children reacted like this?

Do you think this is special and unique enough to be rewarded?

Do you believe other parents would give their children a reward? 

It was never about the emotions - but the mechanism behind it. 

“Sometimes the how is more important than the why”

“Now I understand what Mary meant”

“Huh?”

“Nothing, Shakespeare”

Fang might not technically be the biggest literature nerd out there, but even he is beginning to see that he may or may not be living out one of the most popular romance tropes there is. 

The only thing left to hope is that this will have a plot worth remembering. 

“Your smile is my favourite part of you”

“Yeah?”

“Because I feel like you haven't smiled a lot in your life before”

Tender in a way no one else has ever done before - and Tan did at least twice already - he cradles his cheek. 

“I like those dimples”

They’re so close again, and Fang can practically taste Tan’s cologne on his lip as he leans in even further. 

“They only formed once you came along”

“That's anatomically impossible, doctor”

“Don't start” 

Tan's Pov: 

The living door opening prompts Fang to flinch again, and Tan makes a mental note to have their next ‘first’ kiss somewhere private - and maybe more romantic. 

“What's going on here?” 

Both of them whip their heads towards the owner of that voice - Mary leaning against the doorframe, all smug. 

“Nothing”

Her eyes roam over the scene in front of her without moving a single muscle. 

“Doesn't look like nothing”

After a second, Fang averts himself and scrambles to gather his belongings.

“Yeah. I have to go” 

One last time, he stops to cast Tan a look of unexpected contentment. 

“I have to find an explanation for… this for my parents” 

Without being able to offer him any assistance, Fang rushes through the hallway, the scene much too reminiscent of something very familiar to Tan. 

“See you tomorrow!”

The dorky grin adorning his face until now abruptly converts into  an eye roll as soon as he observes his sister walking towards him. 

“So-”

“No”

Quickly, he turns off the music and begins to collect the rubbing alcohol and wipes. 

“Yes” 

“Don't”

Rather than waiting for any smart comment, he disappears into the bathroom to stow the first aid kit away - only for Mary to follow. 

“What just happened?”

“Doesn't matter” 

“It matters to me” 

“Too bad” 

“Tan. You have to tell me” 

Groaning in a manner only an older sibling can achieve, he ignores her and heads to his room. 

“Hey! I'm your biggest shipper” 

He’s ready to debrief on his own in peace, when he can discern her muttering through the door. 

“Mission accomplished” 

“I heard that!” 

Fang's Pov: 

He knew that Karma had it out for him for some goddamn stupid reason - he figures this must be his punishment for concealing his identity. But still - couldn’t he have been this happy for at least a full 24 hours before that positivity was ripped away from him? 

Because he’s still floating on this cloud of fuzziness, unable to process what the hell just happened, filled with giddiness throughout the entire day - until he has to get ready for his performance later that night. 

That’s when everything shatters. 

He opens his bag and -

No.

No no no this can't be true. 

It has to be somewhere around here. 

It must be. 

He couldn't have lost it. 

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

What is he supposed to do now? Cancel the performance? He can't possibly do that.

Can he? Should he? 

His gaze drifts to his display. Thirty minutes left.

Is that enough? 

Quickly, he runs through the options available. If he goes out and gets a new mask, it sure will raise some questions. But then again, how much does his audience really concentrate on how he looks instead of how he sounds? If he doesn’t show up and spends his time searching for it, he not only risks losing in the public eye - what would happen if somebody finds it and then finds him looking for it? 

He curses past Fang to have had a custom design printed on it. Back then, it seemed like a great idea. The perfect two in one - it hid his face and it could give his persona some personality. Now, though, it could become his downfall. 

Great. 

Screw it, he has to. 

And if he’s lucky, he just forgot to carry it with him and it’s somewhere in the furthest crook of his spotless and unnecessary meticulously tidy room. 

Or - and that’s the less delusional possibility - he has to retrace every step of this day and pray to god nobody took note of it. Most of all, he’s desperately begging that it’s not at the place he least wants it to be. 

Later, his anxious spiral - which he again attempted to deny because he believed that was for the best - would turn out to be his ultimate mistake. In hindsight, he should’ve just made a replica. However, he guesses life wanted to teach him a lesson this way. 

Tan's Pov: 

With a sigh, he looks down at his display for what appears to be the hundredth time in the past ten minutes, as if that would magically conjure up the message he so badly wants to receive. There’s not even a point in waiting, because he read the very opposite of that message hours ago. While he knows that choosing a bar as a first date - particularly during his work hours - is less than ideal, he just had this urge to see Fang again. Because Tan, despite being labeled as a heartthrob by his regulars, and having been asked multiple times by girls - and guys - to exchange Line contacts, has no idea what to do when it comes to actual dating. 

He settled on that term, figuring he couldn’t go wrong with it, since it indicated that ‘in between’ him and Fang are currently in, without slipping into hazardous territory. Thankfully, he assumes Fang will be on the same page about them taking it slow and letting their feelings develop gradually. But to truly hear that affirmation from him is precisely why he texted him about hanging out tonight - only to get rejected. 

It’s fine.

Through their past conversations, he’s gained enough insight into Fang’s homelife and its effect on his mental state to not put any more pressure on him. He just really wanted to share another part of himself with Fang, in order to get closer to each other. 

He doesn’t even have Mary to keep him company, so he’s - bored might not be the most accurate descriptive - definitely not in high spirits, even if he should be. 

Right on cue, his supposed remedy emerges from the crowd. Weirdly, he’s begun dedicating his days to think about Fang, and nights to ponder about Daisy. Now, though, he’s examining his own reaction to Daisy’s arrival. If he still has the same view on Daisy as he had about two months ago - where he imagined he may have fallen - then he undoubtedly has to take it up with Fang, since he would never do that to him. 

The lights dim, the amplifiers crackle - and Tan frowns the moment he lays eyes on the stage. Even in the distance, it becomes crystal clear: Daisy looks different. And he’s not only talking about his appearance - though the simple black mask and the lack of personality in his outfit are striking - but his aura. The usually relaxed stance, the arrogant glint in his eyes - that Tan never interpreted as something negative - all of that is replaced by a slight shaking in his hands as he wraps it around the microphone, causing his arms to flex.

And later, as he abandons the stage and brushes past the bar towards the exit, Tan discerns he’s glistening with a thin layer of sweat, which, surprisingly, causes the ink on his arms to smudge at some edges. So, the tattoos are temporary, huh? 

Another point added to things he knows about Daisy: Daisy (or someone he knows) must be really good at drawing. Probably, just like Fang, whoever created those wants people to admire their work without losing their anonymity. Smart.

Another clue to get closer to Daisy’s identity: he has to begin picturing this boy with bare skin then. 

Then, he decides to go further, and suspects that the outfits could also be borrowed, so maybe he has to switch them out with an uniform. 

Who knows? Perhaps under the mask, there’s some heart-shaped lips, and -

He has to snap himself out of his daydream. 

What the hell is he doing? Is it because he’s so affected by Fang? Is it because he wishes for Fang and Daisy to become one so his problem could be solved? Are the lines blurring in his head? 

Does that mean he still likes Daisy and has to give up on this still unexplored thing with Fang? 

His dangerous slip up promptly gets interrupted by the buzzing in his back pocket, and he’s thankful for the distraction.

‘When is your shift over?’

‘Whenever I want, actually’

‘Don’t leave poor Peem hanging, asshole’

Chuckling, he throws a stare over his shoulder at his best friend, who’s too occupied entertaining guests on the other side of the bar to take note of Tan’s growing mischief. 

‘Did you memorize his schedule or what?’

‘Phum is staring at the door like Peem will return from war’ 

Without much effort from his side, he can imagine exactly what that must look like. After all, he witnessed some of his mate's pining during dribbling sessions after school hours.

‘Told him he could go in. He said it ruined ‘the element of surprise’ or whatever’

‘He can gladly trade places with me’

‘Don’t tempt him. No work would be done’

He’s about to type another witty response, when the meaning of Fang’s text sinks him, making him pause. Subconsciously, he directs his gaze to where the entrance is, then back to his phone. 

‘How do you know Phum is outside?’

‘Guess’

Another ping disrupts the wheels in his head from spinning. 

‘Dumbass’  

Unable to prevent it, he lights up at the prospect of Khaofang standing just a few metres away from him, separated by merely two doors. Like a child, he skips over to his coworker, tapping his shoulder. 

“Can you handle the rest alone?”

“Would you give a shit if I said no?”

Both of them know that Peem is much too nice when it comes to his friends - and both are aware Tan will pay him back for this favour without Peem needing to demand it. 

“Only because you asked me”

Barely, he holds back a squeal as he envelops him in a tight hug. 

“You’re the best, friend”

Ruffling Peem’s hair - only to hear him curse at Tan - he stashes his notepad and pen away and tosses his dish towel over the rack. 

“Love you”

He almost forgets to take his stuff out of his locker in his necessity to confirm his guess. 

Fang's Pov: 

One thing Fang anticipated to happen since his first encounter with Tan - he’d become careless. Or reckless. Or perhaps both. It was a decision made on a whim - honestly, he had that weird mix of nervousness and excitement following him this whole night. So he called Phum to help him set up this completely random meeting. In the meantime, he changed his clothes in the bathroom and spent a good ten minutes rubbing at his skin to get rid of the evidence - he prays the long sleeved shirt will do the rest. Once Phum told him he parked and was outside, he sneaked out and threw the bag he brought at him. The look he gets is one of reprehension - he tries to disregard the sensation of guilt bubbling in his stomach and manifesting as mild nausea. He will tell him. Eventually. When they’re at the right point of their relationship. 

He doesn’t get much further in his self-deprecation, since there’s a very eager Tan sprinting towards them - and whenever he sees Tan, he forgets everything else. On instinct, he shields himself from an expected affectionate ambush. To his credit, though, Tan stops in his tracks right in front of him, albeit buzzing with some sort of excitement Fang can't fully decipher. 

“What are you doing here?”

Very nonchalantly, he puts his hands in his pockets, hoping Tan doesn't register his inability to stand still. 

“I just feel bad”

Since it's said with far too much sincerity and dejection, he makes an effort to wipe that error clean with a smirk. 

“For leaving, you know”

He begins kicking rocks on the pavement to entertain his feet and have an excuse not to look at Tan's face. 

“And not texting you back”

Taking a deep breath to recall the lines he previously memorised, he ultimately finds the courage to glance up. 

“Just wanted to say hi”

There's something about Tan staying silent that boosts his uneasiness - probably since Fang isn't used to it - and causes Fang to talk excessively - to his standards.

“Maybe we could get some noodles or something?”

A voice in his head is demanding him to please shut up, so the last sentence comes out clipped.

“My treat”

“Late dinner?”

Considering his first attempt to remain cool failed spectacularly, he can't even mourn the loss of his cold image indicted by that disastrous, unpreventable blush. 

“You worked hard. I hope”

Seconds pass, and the person opposite of him simply gazes at him frozen, resulting in Fang to approach him.

“Tan?” 

“Yes”

For some reason, it seems like the entire purpose of Fang's visit is dawning on Tan, due to him visibly turning up the light in his eyes - which now, in Fang's opinion, shine brighter than the stars above them. 

“Yes, let’s go”

Without asking for permission - much likely since he's overcome with emotions and not because he doesn't feel the need for it - Tan links his arm with him and begins walking on, turning halfway over his shoulder and throwing a wave to Fang's brother, who's still holding the bag and leaning against the wall next to the entrance. 

“Bye Phum!”

The person addressed waves them off as well - and tilts his display in Fang's direction, who then opens their chat. 

‘I feel bad for the guy’

He senses this agonizing sting in him again. 

‘So do I’  

Dinner goes as smoothly as Fang can manage, while simultaneously not combusting on the spot - and he doesn’t even know the exact reason this time. They talk, they eat, and they choose together that they might not be fully committed, yet that there won’t be anyone else. When they make that promise, he checks Tan’s expression thoroughly, watching for any cracks in his demeanor that could serve to make him feel less awful about this whole mess. Tan, though, remains composed and steady, with crinkled eyes and that goddamn beam that’s contagious. In the end, they walk along the bridge together, Tan draping his jacket over Fang’s shoulders again - the weight of it feels somehow so different tonight. He’s been strolling with his hand in Tan’s, losing track entirely of where they’re headed. 

Not having gone home and said goodbye to Tan is the second worst choice he'd make today. 

Once they cross it, Tan leans against the railing, tugging Fang closer to him. 

“Please don’t think I’m weird”

“Bit late for that”

Tan chuckles at that, but it's clearly laced with nervousness - which in turn makes Fang anxious, of course. 

“Do you…um…I…”

“Yes?”

He can't help the teasing tone he replies with - it's just nice sometimes to be on the other end.

“Would you like to go back to my place?”

Fang must've been outstandingly bad at hiding his facial expression - something that's beginning to become an annoying habit formed by Tan's simple existence - since Tan now widens his gaze and facepalms in exasperation. 

“God, that sounds even worse out loud”

Letting go of his hand as though Fang explicitly told him off, he cracks his knuckles.

“Forget it”

While it's an absolutely inappropriate time to have thoughts like these, the sight before him is nothing short of adorable. A literal golden retriever being scolded. He barely suppresses a second laugh.

“It’s just…my home is close by…and you look tired so I figured-”

Groaning, he averts himself, to avoid the embarrassment of a fictitious rejection. 

“Nevermind”

In an untypical moment of bravery - a kind of bravery he didn't know he had in him - he draws him in, his lips grazing Tan's cheek in a barely there kiss. 

“Would you take the couch?”

Tan doesn’t take the couch - obviously. Instead, the two of them lay next to each other, part awkward, part …he isn’t certain how to describe the sensation. If someone were to tell Fang at the beginning of this semester that he’d end up sharing a bed with his crush, he wouldn’t believe it in a million years. Which is probably also why he’s paralyzed, simply looking back at Tan. 

“You okay?”

“I’ve…”

He stops promptly in order to finish this sentence appropriately - saying “I’m not used to not being alone” would surely kill the mood. A strange mood, of course. But at least it’s not dead.

“I’ve never shared my bed with someone else before. Except my brother” 

“That’s fine. I can take the couch”

Since he's already making an attempt to crawl out, Fang practically moves on his own, fist curling into Tan's sleeve. 

“You don’t have to”

Plucking at it, he motions him to come back. And Tan does - like a statue, arms perfectly still. 

“We can stay like this the whole night. I could even put a pillow between us”

“That’s sweet”

Not losing the smile, he flicks Tan's forehead.

“Don’t be stupid”

To enlighten Tan about the fact that it's really fine to touch him, he reaches out to stroke the hairs sticking out on the pillow. 

“I didn’t say I didn’t like it” 

“That's good” 

As a singer, it's no secret that Fang has a bizarre thing for analysing people's voices. And Tan's? 

Tan's is somehow its own category altogether. 

It's sweet, serious, soothing, loud and low, melodic and never misses to be expressive in any way. 

Presently, it's breathy with a tad of raspiness - and it forces his entire nervous system to reboot silently and inconspicuously. 

“Because I'd really like to hold you”

Like the most charming, most respectful moron he is, he opens up his arms as a proposal. 

“If that's okay”

And Fang, like the most emotionally constipated, smartest fool in the world, naturally, can't help but surrender at the slightest show of regard for his preferences. 

Cautiously, he inches closer, resting his head in the crook of Tan's neck, hands timidly placed on his abs. 

Although he can't confirm it, he believes he senses Tan's lips on his scalp. 

“If you're uncomfortable, we can stop” 

Very unfavorably, the only thing he deems uncomfortable is how not uncomfortable it is. 

Upon waking, the first thing he feels is warmth - warmth from the bedsheets, warmth from the sun spilling through the blinds, and warmth from Tan’s body so close to his. The next thing that seeps into his bones immediately after a moment of serenity is deep rooted dread. Yesterday, he achieved to vanish into his room without the need of a proper clarification, since his parents saw the bandage and (rightfully so) assumed he was at the hospital. On a sunday morning, the only way he can get by is by Phum covering with something that doesn’t include words like “date” - ever since he was young, his mother drilled into him that relationships ‘like that’ were a waste of time and only hindered his academic development. But it’s so cozy, and it’s so safe, and he thinks he’s never slept better - a placebo effect caused by the lack of tension and absence of his parents. So he spends a minute just staring. Really staring. At the shadows that his nose casts, the freckles scattered across his cheeks, and those devastating moles. Without realising, he reaches out, and lets his fingertips ghost over the skin there, as if he needs to verify that this is real. 

There's someone who chose him - and it doesn't matter why or how. For once, he isn't thinking about not being worthy of it. 

Quickly, before he can drown in his misery, he pulls the covers away and runs into the bathroom to ‘freshen up’. 

When he emerges, Tan is astonishingly already up and moving, the smell of fresh brewed coffee leading the way to him. 

He isn't even fully at the counter when he gets a cup and a plate filled with pre-made protein pancakes handed over - although he should be the last person on earth to judge anyone for their breakfast choices, he can't help going on a tyrant about nutrition and macros and food intake in between bites.

It's a built in mechanism now, reciting the knowledge he has about certain topics. Tiresome, since it's a Sunday morning, and he doesn't even have to take a quiz today. And yet - his dad always compelled him to be “one step ahead of everybody else”. All the while he's on a rant, Tan listens without interrupting, observing him over the rim of his mug. 

In comparison to other mornings, though, the atmosphere is different.

After he wants to go and wash the dish, Tan beats him to it. So, it's Fang's turn to quietly watch his back, and desperately stomps onto disloyal word 'domestic'. 

Since it doesn't take too long, he dries his hands off before paying attention to Fang again.

“Listen. Let me go to the bathroom real quickly, then I’ll send you home”

Smirking, he walks backwards out of the door, raising an eyebrow. 

“We’re not like that”

“Asshole” 

Then he watches as Tan abandons the kitchen and escapes into the hallway, momentarily busy grinning like an idiot before he realizes he’s here for a reason. 

Exploiting that tiny window of time, he sneaks off into the living room, beginning with a broad scan. Then, his brain convinces him it might’ve fallen out of his bag when Tan dropped it onto the couch. So, he does what any normal human does, and starts to rummage in the space between the cushions. 

Nothing. 

But if it’s not at school, not around the campus area, and not somewhere here, then that means -

“Looking for something?”

Chapter Text

Chapter 10 

Overcoming his initial terror, he turns towards the owner of his voice, already doing what he does best - deflect. 

“My dignity, my self respect, the love of my parents -” 

“Fang” 

Despite his hope that this is just another one of her pranks, he immediately spots it - and rushes forward. Whether to snatch it out of her hand, or to hide it, he’s not sure. Thankfully, Mary also shares his opinion that this would be one of the worst times for Tan to find out, so she allows him to take the mask from her and quickly conceal it in his pocket. 

“I'm sorry”

The person in front of him looks over his shoulder down the hallway, then wordlessly grabs his arm and yanks him the other way into her room, shutting the door tightly behind them. Then, she glares at him disapprovingly and folds her arms. 

“Why didn't you tell me?”

“Because I don't tell anyone”

He doesn’t mean to sound dismissive, or even angry, but he has to project the guttural panic he’s experiencing somehow onto her - without a breakdown, that is. 

“Only my little brother knows. To cover for me”

Although he’s barely uttered a sentence, he feels out of breath already.

“And his boyfriend - that one was an accident” 

“But why don't you?”

Fang exhales like he’s already bothered with the question. And he is, technically. But not because the explanation is obvious nor because he believes she has no right to ask that. No, it’s simply due to the fact that saying it out loud will lead to him becoming even more self aware. Self awareness is dangerous to Fang - after all, realizing his missteps will force him to finally hold himself accountable, therefore feeling the need to make amends before he made the mistake. To be fair, it’s not like he didn’t anticipate for the burden to become too large to carry. He just hoped it’d be later rather than sooner. 

“Because I don't have anyone to tell. And if I did, they'd treat me differently. I'd hate that feeling”

Eventually, as he expected, the shaking in his hands becomes too prominent to ignore, so he begins balling them into fists and opening them alternately to release some of the tension. 

“Knowing they'd only like me for who I… I don't even know what I'm doing with my life, honestly” 

“And Tan?”

At the mere mention of his name, Mary’s - and he suspects his - features soften. 

“You know he wouldn't” 

“He'd try not to” 

Upon registering her scowl, he scurries to explain himself - and that Tan isn’t the villain. 

He could never be. 

“But it's human nature” 

Fang is well aware how this must sound - like he’s passing on the blame to anybody but himself. Yet in the end, that’s the whole core of the issue he created on accident: people’s perceptions of him being bizarrely at odds with his own - and now also with Tan’s perception of who he is. 

“I mean imagine this from his perspective”

Reflexively, his touch lands where the most crucial part of his identity is bundled up. 

“There's this mysterious guy which he knows nothing about but finds… interesting. Because he doesn't know anything he made up a persona in his mind about how he expects him to be”

Unintentionally, he pictures the reaction he'd get from Tan - or the most likely reaction from anyone else who'd discover that someone they cared about lied to them for so long. 

Chose to lie, on top of that. 

“And then he gets to know that that person is the same sarcastic, dry introvert he fell for mainly because he's nothing like that?” 

A sick part of him feels almost flattered that Tan clung to Fang in order to get over Fang. 

The other, more sensible counterpart would never consider Tan to be like that. 

And then, the rest is making him feel worse by reminding him Tan wouldn't do that to him.

“He'll never look at me like he does now” 

On the outside, he endeavours to not show any signs of discomfort. On the inside, he’s frantically pleading with his fragile heart to not break out in tears right now since he hasn’t got a single acceptable excuse to give if Tan notices - for some reason, Tan has done nothing but continually notice things Fang didn’t want him to. 

“Intentionally or not, he'll end up wanting Daisy more than he does me” 

“But you are Daisy” 

“I don't know who I am”

That statement puts everything on pause. A moment passes in which Fang, frozen in place, examines every miniscule twitch in Mary’s body, as the latter clearly appears to be fighting with whatever emotion his declaration just evoked. 

Then she quirks her eyebrow. 

“So what you're saying is he's just dating another version of you?” 

Although her stare manages to cut right through him, her tone remains threateningly stable and calm - like a neutral finding instead of an accusation. 

“He doesn't know who you are” 

His palms are disgustingly sweaty, so he decides to wipe them off on his pants - which, unexpectedly, serves as a soothing mechanism. 

“What I'm saying is -” 

He struggles with forming a correct wording, but he prays that regardless of how he says it, the essence will be able to stand on its own. 

“That right now, he's seeing me. A clean slate. A fresh start.”

At least that’s what it feels like to him whenever he’s with Tan. Not a blank page, or canvas, only waiting to be filled with whatever Tan has in mind for him. 

Conversely, it’s more as if Tan took an eraser and began deleting every previously established label that didn’t fit Fang that other people wrote on his document prior to Fang getting a chance to touch it. 

“He doesn't have any expectations” 

His hands twitch at his sides with the urge to dig his nails into his arms and concentrate on something else to ground him. 

For Fang, physical pain is always easier to deal with than emotional. 

“So he can't get disappointed” 

“Okay”

Instantly, he perks up, his eyes widening with the swift acceptance - which Mary evidently concludes too, since she puts her hand on his upper arm and caresses it faintly. 

“I get it”

Even if inwardly, he’s more than happy to have made an ally out of the second most crucial player in this game, outwardly he can merely try his best to discern her scarily unreadable expression.

“I don't like it. But I get it” 

Narrowing her eyes, she pinches the skin she’s been petting - and he gets the hint without much musing.

“You'll still tell him, right?”

Although the immense height difference makes him tower over her, the second she takes a step closer, he feels strangely startled by her presence - a part of him wishes to obtain some of that power. 

“Don't make me do it” 

He’d like to claim he’s an expert at deciphering other people, however it was a comment Mary made that lets him know that behind that fierce shield, there’s a pliable center waiting to be explored. 

“Because then he'll be mad at you, you'll be mad at me, I'll be mad about it, and no one will go unscathed” 

Growing up, Fang learnt - or rather, got taught - to mistrust those led by their heart instead of their head because they’d always exploit empathy and weaponize their emotions to manipulate and get their way. He’s always prioritized rationality over sentimentality.

Tragically, her reasoning is purely logical. 

“Now that the serious talk is over…” 

Like second nature, she manages to make him dizzy with her carousel of emotions by grinning widely at him - a smile he’s all too familiar with. 

“That's so cool”

Opening the door again, she raises her voice as she silently ushers him out. 

“Next time, you’re going to have to tell me everything!” 

Briefly, he’s confused about that switch - until a silhouette emerging in his peripheral vision makes him jump again. 

“Thank god”

The unconcealed chuckle to his right should make him sufficiently defensive to accuse Tan of mockery - but pitifully, he’s positive he doesn’t possess the ability to be mad at Tan.

“I thought I’d never see you again, my dear!”

In a span of seconds, his fear dissipates as Tan traps him in a quick backhug.  

“I was ambushed and kidnapped and held hostage”

“I see”

With a peck to his cheek, Tan releases him and takes over the job as porter.

“You were very brave”

Strolling through the hallway and down the stairs, Tan leans in to stage whisper. 

“You didn’t tell her anything, right?”

“Not much to tell anyway”

As they arrive at the entrance, he’s tempted to add onto his recklessness by letting Tan drive him home to spend more time with him - almost immediately, he rejects his impulsive thought, since he’s too tired to come up with the perfect plan to avoid his parents in that situation. 

“Well”

Handing over his belongings, he sends him off with one final kiss.

“The best parts are yet to come” 

Fang spends the whole way home with a stomachache. 

Tan is nervous - which is exactly what makes him equally, if not more nervous. Despite only really knowing each other for a few months, he’s seen Tan around longer than that, so he’s concerned about how he’s acting right now. It might not be the first time Tan is nervous around him, but each time feels like the first time all over, simply because it’s so…surreal. Not quite due to his behaviour, but rather because Fang has to remind himself he’s the reason for it. However, his own anxious mind has yet failed to send him the message that this is a good thing - so he's been shaking with unexplainable dread, ever since Tan sat next to him on the bench and began fidgeting with something in his bag. When he’s finished mulling over whatever is occupying him, he looks at Fang with his usual, yet reduced vibrance.  

“I got you something”

Folding his elbow on the tabletop, he rests his chin in his hand, amazed at himself for how confident he appears - or at least, how much his acting skills have improved when he’s in Tan’s proximity. 

“Why?”

For a moment, all he gets in response is a blank stare, and he’d laugh at Tan if he didn’t have the same reaction many times before. Instead, he raises an eyebrow and stares back until Tan returns to earth. 

“Because” 

There’s something about this feigned nonchalance - paired with the most rigid shrug Fang has ever witnessed - that makes it impossible not to tease the person next to him. 

“And now the real hidden agenda?” 

Of course, he has a worthy - if not sadly superior - opponent in Tan, so the latter mimics him and adds a wink for good measure. 

“Does your smile count?”

Since Tan has had so much more practice in… social interactions, it doesn’t take long for Fang to completely forget he was supposed to have the upper hand, his posture immediately faltering. Yet, he attempts to glance at Tan unimpressed. 

“Don't look at me like that”

Unspectacularly, he slides his gift over to Fang - who’s still too focused on Tan to take note of it. 

“It reminded me of you” 

Once Tan begins chuckling, and nods towards his right, he ultimately tears his eyes away to whatever is in his possession starting from today. What he finds lying on the surface is the most dorky, yet adorable present in this world. And he might be biased because he never got a gift in his life if it wasn’t tied to flawless performances, or because it’s given to him by Tan specifically. Either way, it has become his most valuable treasure in a span of seconds, and he’ll protect it with his life. 

“It's cute, you're cute” 

To not inform Tan of the detrimental effect such lackluster excuse has on him, he traces the chubby cheeks and the smooth velvet, getting a feel for the firmness of the stuffing - anything that serves as a distraction. 

“That's all” 

He stretches the plushie out to Tan as if to present him with a new revolutionary plan, slightly wiggling it in his hand. 

“Right. A yellow daisy - your favourite flower - in a purple jumpsuit - my favourite colour” 

To emphasize that he’s totally aware of Tan’s absolutely not intended intention, he speaks extra slowly, like he’s explaining a foreign concept. 

“Purely coincidental”

“Our story has been filled by coincidences, don't you think?”

Tucking it away in his satchel, he gives it a final caress before directing his attention back to Tan. 

“Where did you get that?” 

“Maybe I already had it”

It’s strange. Throughout his entire existence, Fang has only ever experienced what it’s like to work hard and try to appease other people, so witnessing Tan attempt his earnest and making Fang believe he put no thought into this and it’s all just randomly perfect - it makes his heart flutter in the most unfamiliar, yet most authentic way. 

“Whatever”

Tan’s voice may be claiming this is all ‘no big deal’, but Fang catches him scratching his neck shyly - and spots the pink tinge going all the way to his ears. 

“You already ruined my romantic gesture” 

Casually, as if he didn’t just make Fang’s stomach flip with a stuffed blossom, he leans back and motions to where said plant is residing, letting his arm rest in his lap. 

“So it is what it is” 

Reaching for his hand, he intertwines their fingers and raises them quickly to his lips so that no one sees it - he doesn’t believe he could deal with any attention, despite wanting to show Tan that he does appreciate the gesture nonetheless. 

“Thank you” 

Apparently, that tiny sign of affection was the green light Tan required to muster up the missing courage, since he straightens up a bit and clears his throat - probably more for dramatics than necessity. 

“Actually”

He tilts his head, the typical spark in his gaze on full display. 

“I have a question”

That alerts Fang - and makes him even more anxious than earlier. According to his research that was mostly based on Reddit and different forms - and that he’s absolutely not proud of having conducted - these are all the signs that this is it. Although it’s just been about a week since their last conversation about their relationship status, and Fang is genuinely fine with any label, so long as they both agree mutually, he can’t deny he’s been ruminating more and more. Naturally, though, Fang would rather die than take the first step, so he’s been looking out for any changes in Tan’s behavior, or speech, or even eyes. He guesses it’s finally time. Thank god for Tan and his impatience - and bravery. 

“This was just pure bribe”

“I knew it” 

In his head, he’s cheering him on loudly, waiting for Tan to finish the sentence, already aware he’ll fail at pretending to be torn. Outwardly, he’s smiling as reassuringly as possible. Upon registering that Tan is loosening up, he trusts that the former will take it as encouragement. 

“Maybe I'll be an idiot now”

Subconsciously, he tightens his grip on Tan’s hand, not wishing for him to hesitate and retreat in the crucial instant. 

“And this is stupid to ask”

The wheels in Tan’s head are turning almost visibly, and he is pleading silently that he can sense how badly Fang wants this. 

Wants Tan. 

How he’s prepared to be selfish regardless of what he promised himself - and prepared to handle the consequences of his selfishness. 

“But do you-”

“Yes” 

He bites his lip hard, but it’s too late - the answer escaped him so easily, it was impossible not to say it. And maybe it sounds too eager, too desperate - but it’s also honest. 

Fortunately, Tan is also relieved, since he laughs freely and puts his other hand discreetly on Fang’s knee as support to incline his body, looking at him through crinkled eyes. 

“You don't even know what I wanted to ask”

Fang knows he should not only be scared to death, but also ridden with shame - those emotions will have to take a back seat in favor of the excitement buzzing in his veins. 

“Yes” 

At this point, that might be the sole word he’s capable of speaking, so he inches a tad closer to whisper into Tan’s ear. 

“With you? Yes” 

Without warning, he gets ambushed into a bone crushing hug. Both him and Tan have compromised prior to keeping PDA to a minimum - not forever, and not because Fang wants to hide. In fact, the two of them decided that due to the same reason from different viewpoints: Fang doesn’t want Tan to have to deal with all the drama, particularly because he’s seen and heard that when it comes to his important people, he’s very private. Tan, on the other hand, suggested keeping it low-key so nobody slipped up and no gossip could travel throughout the university. After all, every tiny risk of his parents finding out is a risk nevertheless. 

Currently, his troubles surrounding that topic fly out of the window, given that Tan is a sorcerer, and his hug isn’t simply comfortable, but also safe, and warm, and briefly, in his arms, Fang has no worries, no burdens, no baggage. 

He just is.

He’s Tan’s boyfriend.

The world truly works in funny ways. 

Tan’s Pov: 

Tonight, he’s in an especially good mood. Actually, he believes there’s nothing that could happen that would sour it. Adding onto his high spirit is the sight of Mary’s irritation at his chipper attitude - but he can’t help it. He’s finally found his person. Technically, that should signify that he should close the ‘Daisy’ chapter in his life permanently. Rather than indifferent, however, he feels himself drawn again to the stage - and the performer.

In comparison to a few weeks ago, when he was distracted by the chaos within him, he’s going back to become an audience for Daisy. And perhaps that’s it. That’s all he’ll do. Because while he’s still enjoying the show thoroughly, it feels like he’s seeing it with different eyes - his entire center of attention might shift into background noise soon. Maybe not so much a different view, but rather the real view that got hidden by the veil of obsession or unhealthy fixation. Now he can essentially compare his feelings for Daisy with his feelings for Fang and get to the bottom of his minor crisis. 

One thing that’s certain is that given the choice, he’d pick Fang without hesitation. So that has to account for something. Nevertheless, whenever he hears him sing, he can’t deny that his heartbeat speeds up suspiciously. Perhaps that means he’s attracted to those character traits, not the person behind them.

Then why is he still eager to find out more about the man behind the mask? 

What is truly the reason he still has a hold on Tan? 

He averts himself to go back to work, when the intro melody to the next song makes him stop in his tracks. No. Not this song. As an acoustic version? Lyrics about longing and falling for someone you don’t know? Sung in Daisy’s voice with Daisy’s emotions? That is a turn of events that he didn’t ask for. For some reason, his stomach turns as well - hopefully not due to what Tan wants the least at this point. 

Closing his eyes, he pictures Fang singing to him - that image however is tough to conjure, since he doesn’t see Fang ever daring to do something bold like this nor does he know if Fang is fond of singing the same as simply playing music. Some part of him is warning him that this comes close to betraying Fang by the comparison - which should be stupid. He’d never leave Fang for anybody else, fantasy or real. No, there has to be another explanation for what’s bothering him about this. What are the odds that he picked Tan’s favorite song from Tan’s favorite artist? Did he leave any clues? Do they just share the same preference? Why does it feel like there’s an implication he’s unsuccessful in deciphering?

Suddenly, he feels overwhelmed, and rushes off to get his shit together for the rest of his shift. 

When he returns from the bathroom, he finds a bag of soft mango candy with a sticky note under the counter. Momentarily, he wonders whether Daisy snuck in to put them there himself or if he asked Peem to. And if the second option is the case, he definitely has to interrogate his friend if he has anything new to tell Tan. 

‘I picked that song for you’ 

Exhaling slowly, he condemns the universe for the fantastic, miserable timing. Months and months of nothing. Not long after he attempts to initiate any form of contact, he meets the boy who crashes (literally) into his life and throws everything into disorder. As soon as he’s forming a gradually stable, emotionally fulfilling bond with that boy, his past dream suddenly wants a space in his present he’s unable to provide. 

He folds the piece of paper together again, putting it into his back pocket for the remainder of the night. That’s his deadline. Until then, he has to figure out how to approach this chaos. 

Once all the guests have been escorted out, and he’s done cleaning up and chugging half a bottle of water - due to dehydration, he didn’t touch a drop of alcohol despite it looking more tempting than ever - he walks towards his locker to get his stuff and a good night’s sleep. The second he’s typed in his code, he also locks in his decision, tossing the paper into the trash and throwing the snacks into his backpack to share with Fang.

That’s it - the only solution. He’ll give it up altogether. Focus on something and someone else. It must be just a phase. He must be a fan. And if it turns out to be wrong, and neither his heart nor his head will forget Daisy with the passing of time, then he’ll have to face the fact that he indeed has a massive problem - and so would Fang, by proxy. 

Fang’s Pov:

The next morning, he’s strangely conflicted. Deep inside, it’s indisputable that what he did last night was unfair to Tan. It’s for the better to let whatever connection Tan believed he was building with Daisy fall apart, to distance himself. So why was he unable to let it go yesterday? Why did he feel the urge to make everything more complicated instead of moving on with Tan when they’re happy as they are? Sadly, he thinks the justification for his misstep is pretty uncomplicated: the part of him that’s Daisy wants Tan to still like it. His passion for music, his talents, which he’s honing out every week, his ambition. All of these qualities are poured much more into Daisy than Khaofang. Khaofang doesn’t have the passion to become a doctor, doesn’t have a talent for interacting with people, and has lost all the ambition he initially commenced his studies with. So, Fang doesn’t want to give Tan the impression that Daisy isn’t who he thought he is - even if, paradoxically, he obviously isn’t. 

God, why did he ever persuade himself to do this whole double identity thing? It used to be fun when there weren’t any feelings involved. Now, it’s getting draining. 

As he walks towards the cafe, he strives to push down the pessimist in him to not ruin Tan’s mood as well. They agreed to meet up for brunch, and under the disguise of an early study session - it works every time as long as he uses it sparingly - he left the house in high spirits. The longer walk there plus his less than ideal playlist bursting through his headphone however made him ponder - when Fang begins to overthink, he’s unlikely to stop in the near future. 

His boyfriend - that term still makes him feel awkward - has informed him that his sister would be joining them - which is wholeheartedly okay with Fang, considering he’d refer to Mary as his only, yet also best friend if anyone asked, additional to his knowledge about their family - and Fang prays she’ll be able to let that lapse in judgement go and not put them both in a tricky situation. What Fang disregarded to take into account is that ostensibly, he’s still not done cashing in his bad karma, so right as he’s about to reach the entrance, he gets dragged behind a corner.

Ironically, the chic cafe in pure sunlight, all bright colors and inviting decor, and Mary’s lilac cardigan-skirt combo paint the perfect contrast to her fierce glare. 

“Okay no”

“Good morning to you too?” 

Her eyes narrow further, and he knows there’s no escaping this dispute. 

“No. Stop”

Unwisely, he assumed he’d avoid punishment due to Mary’s only reply consisting of a disapproving shake of her head as he left swiftly. In hindsight, it would’ve been unintelligent to cause an altercation with Tan within earshot. The bomb that’s ready to explode presently will hit that much harder, though. 

“I understand why you're having problems with telling him” 

Clasping her hands together, she stretches her fingers restlessly - either because she’s nervous about this confrontation as well, or to hold back from punching him.

Fang would understand both. 

“Although I'm still not okay with it”

Likely done with her first massage, she moves to pinch the bridge of her nose, going up all the way to the space between her eyebrows. 

“But what you're not going to do is pull this shit”

Judging by her demeanor, it won’t take long until she loses it - which could technically be relieving in the end. 

“Seriously Khao?”

Seemingly, her impulses win and she buries her fists in his shirt, yanking him into her direction. 

“When I urged you to do something about this stupid crush on Daisy, I didn’t mean doing the quite literal worst thing about it!”

With every enunciation, she shakes him. 

“You can't keep sending him gifts now”

Then, without giving him an opportunity to defend himself, she lunges forward and hits him over the head.

“Are you crazy?” 

While it technically doesn’t physically hurt, he winces and soothes the spot - well aware he won’t get any sympathy until this is finished. 

“you're making it messier this way”

To even it out, he presumes, she shoves him - despite being capable of retaliating, he lets it happen, knowing she needs an outlet right now. 

“You know Tan would never cheat on you. Not even with yourself”

During her whole scolding, he automatically ducked his head and let the reprimands rain down on him, just like when he was a child. Contrary to his parents, Mary raises an eyebrow at him, sincerely expecting a dialogue and not a speech. So, when he gathers that it must be his turn, he gulps. 

“I just need to know-”

“Where you stand in his life?”

Not moving a single muscle, she scoffs - and Fang never knew a single sound can be that impactful. 

“Pretty clear to me”

“Which version of myself he prefers” 

“Changing yourself for love isn't love”

“I don’t-”

“Stop it”

Finally, he observes the crack in her facade as she sighs and holds him by the shoulders gently. 

“I love you too, you know that”

Directly after her expression morphs from exasperated to pitying, he wishes for the former to come back. 

“But you can't do this”

He senses the tears forming and threatening to spill at the sheer sound of her soft tone. 

“What's a relationship if it's not built on honesty”

Promptly, he recalls the conversation he had with Tan last week at that noodle place, where they poured their hearts out to each other, and how they thanked each other. Yeah, so much to being honest with each other. Personally, he could draw a clean line between lying for the sake of lying and being forced to lie by dire circumstances - unfortunately, Mary wouldn’t agree. 

“Or trust”

She moves her hand over to his chest, and he expects Mary to poke him, or slap him once more. Instead, she settles it flat on the spot where his heart sits. 

“You were the one begging for this to happen”

Opposite to what he feels when he’s around Tan, he wishes for her to notice how his heart is racing, and how much he’s sweating - long story short, how important this is to him. 

“If you keep this up, and you continue playing with his feelings like that, then I won’t cover for you anymore”

Oddly enough, that threat works so much better in a breathy voice than screamed. 

“You can see how the fuck you’re going to get out of this on your own”

It’s blatant that it’s the emotions overwhelming her, so he won’t complain about her words. In fact, she’s being kinder to him than he’d be in her position. 

“You can deal with it alone because that’s not okay”

In her glassy pupils, he sees his own dejected reflection. 

“It’s not okay”

His first remark would be pointing out the waver in her voice and therefore hoping that they can leave it at that - something tells him that Mary wouldn’t be quite fond of that comment, so he bites his tongue. 

No need to make it worse than it is. 

“I’d be the first to bend truths and avoid topics and play along but this? This crosses a line even for me”

Paradoxically, having the consequences of his actions laid out for him does provide help. Hearing what he did, and what it will mean for everyone associated in a logical, rational manner makes him comprehend how irrational and illogical he’s behaving - and that he requires some serious fixing. 

“Khao”

For some reason, the nickname has a different impact when spoken like that - a verbal bullet. 

“Either you tell him or I will”

Looking down at her and taking in her resolute aura, he wishes he could be more like that - opinionated, resistant, braced to face hardships. 

Strongheaded. 

“I mean it”

“You're right”

Given that he’s been hit over the head - figuratively and literally - with the cold, hard reality made him sober up instantly, including raising his total of distress.

“God, I know you're right”

Defeated, he slumps against the brick wall behind him. 

“I'm just…so scared”

“Do it. You'll feel better”

Hypothetically, that is a piece of advice worth rolling his eyes for. Surprisingly, however, the dryness with which it’s delivered carries a motivating effect instead of a suffocating one. 

“My brother - he's the most loyal person I know”

Fang might not be acquainted with that many more people, but he’s certain Mary is adequate competition for Tan. Not everyone would do him a big favor like this without demanding anything in return. 

“He deserves the truth”

Arguably, that’s an understatement - and too nice for Fang. Tan deserves more than the truth. Tan deserves better than Fang. 

The whole world - and with it, a person who’d fight the world for him, not a coward who can’t even be true to himself. How could Tan ever be proud of someone Fang isn’t yet proud to be?  

“And you deserve not having to suffer for it” 

She takes his hand into hers, thumb rubbing reassuring circles - her stare still informs him that whatever his next step is, she’ll stay unyielding. 

“But I won’t choose, or pick sides, or be your little accomplice. Not like this”

From an outsider’s perspective, Mary’s choice to still support Fang while risking her sibling’s happiness may be frowned upon. 

Fang, nevertheless, would describe it as the most heartwarming and admirable thing anyone has done, and he’ll be indebted to her for eternity. 

“I won’t hurt my brother”

From the get-go, it was evident to him that Mary being involved in this debacle would bring its own set of problems. What he didn’t anticipate is for her to get so invested in Fang’s protection that it’d take such a toll on her morals. 

“I won’t hurt the person I love most in this world”

“I won’t ask you to”

His actions do speak otherwise, but Fang means it. If it ever gets to a point where guarding his persona comes with the cost of jeopardizing not just Tan’s relationship with Fang, but also with Mary and perhaps more people, then he’d gladly take the fall for them. After all, their fate is sealed. 

Doomed. 

“And if you love him as much as I do - as much as I know you do - you won’t either”

Something inside him wants to reject that assertion, in need of shielding himself. Admitting this early that his feelings for Tan have developed so rapidly - considering that before his fateful run in with Tan, he tried to label it as mere infatuation, perhaps on the same level as crush. Fast forward, and yes, he’s in for the long run. 

Ironic, truly, since their long run won’t be as long as desired. 

“I trust you on that”

“Mary-”

“Can I trust you on that?”

Before he gets the chance to affirm her demand, a third shadow emerges, making them both turn around startled. 

“What are you fighting about again?” 

Briefly, he examines Tan, confirming that he truly didn’t hear any part of their conversation, then eyes Mary, quietly asking her for assistance. 

“He never respects my opinion on anything”

A smug smirk appears on Tan’s lips - Fang simultaneously sheds the pressure that Tan’s abrupt arrival created and applauds Mary for her fast switch in attitude. For years, he’s lied to his parents countless times. In comparison to his mother and father, lying to Tan is made much tougher by a gigantic lump in his throat that swallows every deviation from the truth before it can leave his mouth. So in place of lying, he approves of other people’s false presumptions - which is equally as bad, either way.  

“Whatever it is”

Wrapping an arm around Fang’s waist, he pulls him in, instantly releasing him once he’s right beside Tan, his hand remaining on his lower back. 

“I'll let you know I'm on his side”

“Of course”

She punches his shoulder - to Tan, that might’ve looked like a playful gesture.

To Fang, that was nothing but a clear message. 

“Your boyfriend is a fucking saint, you know that?”

Chapter Text

Chapter 11

Fang’s Pov:

For a while, he’s been following the siblings’ chatter more or less halfheartedly, more interested in Tan and Tan's reactions, his gestures, his animated tone than in the subject. 

That was until Tan dropped the bomb a mere minute ago. It made Fang perk up instantly, believing the fates may be gracious enough to present him with some assistance. 

“I'm glad you're moving on”

So should Fang. So is Fang. Right? 

Then why does it feel like Tan moving on from Daisy also means Tan wanting to move on from Fang?

Oh yeah.

Idiot. 

“You were so annoying”

Judging by her side glance to him, Fang concludes she's addressing both of them. 

“I was just confused”

It's hilarious - in the worst way - that Fang is a victim and a perpetrator of confusion for not only himself but Tan, too. 

“But in the end I think this is the right choice”

With a smirk, he wraps his arm around Fang's shoulders and presses a swift kiss on his cheek. 

“It's always better to know the person you're falling for” 

Pointedly - as well as skillfully - he dodges Mary’s piercing glare by hiding in Tan’s shoulder. 

“Oh shit”

Beside him, Tan shoves the last bite of his lunch into his mouth and grabs his bag. 

“I'm late”

“It's Monday”

Temporarily, Tan pauses and frowns at him - or rather, at his fingers pinching his uniform shirt.  

“You don't have classes on Monday afternoon”

Tracing Tan's stare, he lets go straight away. 

“Ooh. Attentive”

He casts the two of them a suggestive grin. 

“I agreed to tutor some juniors in math”

Mary and Fang instantly exchange a look themselves, barely holding in a laugh. 

“Tutoring in math, hm?” 

“Don't worry, I don't flirt with students”

Scurrying past Fang, he leans down and places another kiss on his head. 

“Just with my tutor” 

Reflexively, he swats him away grumbling. 

“Tan!” 

“See you later!” 

Tan isn’t even completely out of their sight when he senses Mary leaning in closer. 

“Go ahead”

He still follows Tan until he’s disappeared before returning his attention to her. 

“What do you mean?”

“You have this face again”

Unmoved, he takes a slow sip and observes her switch in expression.

“Excuse me?”

Setting down his iced coffee equally as unhurried, he raises an eyebrow.

“That face you pull whenever you’re about to be obnoxiously nosy”

“I don’t have a nosy face”

“You’re right”

He tries to make his tone casual, yet he can’t bring himself to stop grinning. 

“It’s just your face that’s obnoxious”

“Asshole”

Knowing what it is she’s so eagerly awaiting, he leans back and folds his arms. 

“Rapid fire questions go”

She hesitates for a second before realizing he actually meant his invitation to pry. 

“Are the glasses fake?”

“Contact lenses. Incredibly uncomfortable, might I add”

“Tattoos?”

“I draw them on every night before leaving. I escape to my friend’s house to get ready”

“Where do you practice?”

“Also there. Surprised Tan didn’t tell you”

“Why Daisy?”

Pretending to check an invisible watch, he claps and sucks his breath in through his teeth. 

“Damn. Time’s up”

She narrows her eyes and rests her cheek on her fist as she hums in disapproval. 

“I will find out”

Although he doesn’t know why she’s so curious about this specific detail, he’ll try to guard the rest of his secret to the best of his abilities to not drag her deeper into his problems. So instead of feeling in any way affected by the threat this time, he smiles at her.

“Good luck with that”

“I’m really good at meddling”

“I figured”

At this point, he doesn’t know which topic will make him more uncomfortable: Tan’s relationship with Daisy or Fang’s relationship with Daisy.

“But it doesn’t matter”

Mary seems to interpret his dismissal as a personal challenge rather than a factual statement. 

“Of course it does”

“It doesn’t”

To prepare himself in order to deliver his decision with confidence - despite feeling anything but since he made said decision last night - he fixates her.

“Because Daisy doesn’t exist anymore”

He emphasizes every syllable to appear assertive and leave Mary without possibility to protest, hoping that, against all odds, it works. 

“Won’t exist anymore” 

“You can’t be serious”

Since he doesn’t trust his next sentences to come out equally as steady, he silently nods. 

“Why would you give up?”

Noticing that it’s in fact not a rhetorical question, he sighs. 

“It's obviously for the best, isn't it?” 

Mary’s answer is an expression that’s impressively saying ‘please elaborate’ and ‘if you say anything else, I’ll slap you’ all at once. 

“I just quit being Daisy. Disappear forever”

The conversation earlier is proof enough that Tan doesn’t want Daisy anymore. To Fang, that’s his opportunity. The only thing that’s unfortunate is the fact he’ll never get to sing in front of Tan for at least a few years - until their relationship is solid enough that this disclosure has lost some of its bitter aftertaste. 

“Then he won't care. He'll forget it”

“You could”

Her mocking tone informs him that there will be a follow up, so he doesn’t give her the satisfaction of reacting how she expects him to. 

“But you couldn't really”

Somewhere in between her opening lines, and him too distracted by his own thoughts, she has snatched his beverage. 

“That's the coward's way out”

Stirring what’s left of his watered down latte, she tilts the cup in his direction. 

“Why would you give up on your dreams for a man?” 

Because he wants to confirm if his strategy of diversion is successful, he struggles to recover his drink - just for Mary to hand it over voluntarily. 

“That man is your brother” 

“That argument isn't as good as you think it is”

Technically, he’s well aware that whatever he tries now, he’ll lose. Even leaving this situation won’t get him out of it. 

“Listen. Do you know why dreams are called dreams?”

Surprised at the sudden turn of events - since he genuinely thought she’d drill into him - he loses some of the tension in his muscles and breathes out to steady his heartbeat. 

“Dreams used to mean music in english, by the way”

 Not positive where she’s going with this, he looks at her slightly confused. 

“How the hell do you know that?”

Both her tone and her face indicate that she’s so proud of herself that he can’t help but snicker. 

“I googled for this groundbreaking metaphor”

“you're not even english” 

She clasps her hands together in - he hopes feigned - frustration. 

“Let me deliver this metaphor”

Extending his arms, he shrugs. 

“Be my host I guess”

His ironic remark however, gets disregarded. 

“ ‘Dream’ meant music…but also joy” 

Opposite to her brother, who appears to be speaking from the heart, Mary is all about dramatics. Funnily enough, they do share similar outcomes. 

“Dreams are dreams for a reason. The vision of us we long to have”

He doesn’t even have sufficient time to make fun of her abrupt change in speech before she continues. 

“The goal we work towards”

Despite his best efforts, memories of his childhood resurface - he had a lot of dreams, considering so much was forbidden to him. In middle school, he got scolded for the whole evening by his mother because his answer to the question of what he wants to be when he grows up was ‘free’. 

“If we had no dreams, we'd have no goal. No aim”

Fang has to suppress the obvious addition about not all dreams being the positive kind, but he’s still hungover from yesterday’s argument and sees no interest in having another discussion with Mary. 

“We'd work hard to maintain our dreams in fear instead of living on ambitions” 

“Where does that come from?”

A second time, his interjection gets discarded by his best friend. 

“And how boring would that be?”

Once more, she manages to get through it by sweet firmness, holding his hand while punching him with her words. 

“Dreams keep us alive, Fang” 

“That’s-”

“So don't give up on your dream. Only if you feel like a new dream is worth it” 

That’s an unfair - and frankly mean - condition to set. To Fang, he doesn’t dream of being a singer and about Tan loving him for who he is. They go hand in hand. If he doesn’t have one, he can’t have the other. Which means that ultimately, he has to do the one thing he’s terrified about - connecting them. 

“Don't choose a new dream just because it's easier for you”

Honestly, if erasing his identity forever and never speaking of it again would be an easier option, he might’ve thought about that from the beginning. It wouldn’t be the easier choice, just one thing less weighing him down. However, continuing to be with Tan while acting like he never knew isn’t the correct exit either. Just because he never invents new lies doesn’t eradicate the ones he already told Tan. 

“Easy is also boring. It's not fulfilling”

Maybe he should’ve stayed boring. Perhaps, if he never followed this calling, he never would’ve gotten into this mess. Sure, there’d be a greater probability of also never getting closer to Tan - but in hindsight, staying invisible might have been better for everyone involved. 

“You can change your dream, or adjust it - but the feeling towards the dream should be exactly the same”

“Damn”

Outside of lyrics, Fang has never been a fan of metaphors and flowery language because they never get straight to the point. Still, somehow, this hits him exactly as hard as he needed to. The clarity to figure out what the hell he’s supposed to do. 

“That was a speech”

She helps him stack their utensils and trays, then blows him a kiss as she stands up. 

“Picked my major right” 

Throughout the rest of his day, on the way back home, and even once he’s closed the door behind him, he still thinks about that conversation. In theory, Mary didn’t even urge him to tell Tan today. There was no ultimatum, no deadline. Yet, he somehow finds himself pulling out his phone and opening the chat with Tan. 

‘Don’t give up on your dreams’. How is he supposed to do that when it will be Tan who will ultimately destroy Fang’s dream? Inwardly, he cringes at that accusation. No, that’s wrong - and a pretty low blow. Nobody else is to blame here except Fang himself. He ruined it all on his own, by free will. 

Which is precisely why he’s so conflicted as his thumb hovers over the keyboard, fragments of phrasings forming that would potentially ease into the conversation without him losing focus. 

He doesn’t know what he’s waiting for, and he probably never knew. Prolonging the revelation, though, will only lead to worse consequences. After all, it’s not said without reason that pulling off the bandaid faster hurts less - and obviously makes the pain last shorter. 

Briefly, he closes his eyes and endeavours picturing what he could say and how he should behave in order to not fuck everything up. For now, he always ends up with the same outcome. He needs more time and consideration. 

And currently, a second opinion. 

‘You were right’

Amazingly, it takes less than ten seconds for her to read the message and type in a reply. 

‘Typically am’

Automatically, he has to roll his eyes - of course she’s the younger sibling. 

‘But what about this time?’

‘It’s unbearable how happy he is’

Because that could quickly be interpreted wrongly - especially by someone like Mary - he clarifies just in case. 

‘I don’t want to make him unhappy’

‘Don’t tell me…’

‘Yes’

‘You’re breaking up with him?’

‘NO’

‘YOU SAID YES’

‘I DIDN’T KNOW’

‘Okay stop yelling at me’

‘Sorry’

Exasperated, he screams into his pillow to release some of his pent up emotions. 

‘I don’t want to do this’

Finishing his private therapy session, he takes the pillow and clutches it to his chest.

‘But I should sooner rather than later’

Before providing Mary with an opener to highlight how their definition of ‘sooner’ differs, he moves on. 

‘Maybe this way it’ll hurt less’

Fang stopped sugarcoating the negative aspects of his life early on, but he guesses that in comparison to other bad stuff that happened, this scenario has no other remedy. The only way for him to read the next chapter is to close the current one and give up on editing and tweaking every paragraph. 

‘And he’ll take less time in forgiving’

He should be embarrassed about his illogical behavior, but the only thing he’s doing is pray that Mary could magically conjure up a solution that would save him from this. 

‘If he ever will’

‘You’ll tell him?’

‘Tonight’

As soon as he sends it, he wants to delete it - but since she’s read it immediately, there’s no way to undo that commitment. 

‘Good luck soldier’

‘If this goes wrong, prepare a nice eulogy for me’

‘Don’t worry’

Ostensibly, she knows that worrying is part of his full time job, so she takes his nonresponsiveness at face value. 

‘You got this’

Fang wishes encouragement would be the only thing he’s lacking. 

‘I’m here for you’

‘Thanks’ 

Then, he finally convinces himself to do something at all. Baby steps.

‘Are you free tonight?’ 

Every once in a while, his parents' disinterest - negligence has always been a term he didn't throw around randomly - in his life outside of his academics and extracurricular achievements comes in handy. One text and pic from the library he took that morning, one supporting white lie from Phum, and they don't care where he is at least until shortly after closing hours. Which grants him now plenty of hours to handle this tastefully - so much to ripping off the band-aid. Fang suggested staying around the area under the premise of his family - in reality, it's a selfish emergency exit. 

But then Tan showed up. Bright, excited Tan, buzzing with joy because ‘you asked me out first’ - and it was over for Fang. He forgot every boundary he set for this night, letting Tan carry him by the hand to ‘the most enchanting place I know’. Now they stand at a riverside, surrounded by weeping willows, their ‘melodies’ engulfing Fang and making the breeze feel less chilly. The moonlight above casts white streaks onto the water, and the reflection makes it look like there's equally as many stars underwater as high above. It's serene and bewitching - just like the boy to his right.

He has to take a deep breath - more profound than any he's ever had before - in order to prepare for this. For the destruction of everything they built. For the guilt and the blame and the hurt. 

To both finally be free of this torment and fully devoided of Tan. 

“You know why I always struggled with people asking me out?”

Startled - because this is already not going how he structured it in his head - he looks at the scenery in front of them to mask it. Once he’s in control again, he bumps his shoulder against Tan’s playfully. 

“Because you need to keep your image as an unattainable fantasy?” 

Tan snorts, but doesn’t complain, so he amps up the teasing to lighten the mood. 

“Or drama Heartthrob”

“Fang-” 

“Maybe-” 

His next comeback gets disrupted by Tan suddenly grabbing his jaw and guiding his head to face him, caressing the skin there all the way to his bottom lip, leaving Fang entirely disarmed and defenseless. 

“Because there wasn't a spark”

He remembers the countless days where he stood behind the stage, or sat at the back, always in the shadows, watching as students and guests approached Tan, struck up conversations, laughed and touched and gave out number after number, envious that he could never do the same. Afterwards, he’d watch Tan politely shake his head but never lose his smile, or almost always throw away the napkins and shreds of paper or wash the contact information off his skin, wondering if he might just have a partner already. 

“We humans…we tend to adapt to fit ourselves into other people's categories”

“You and your categories”

Tan’s smile widens - either because he’s inexplicably fond of Fang’s snarkiness or because he didn’t expect Fang to actually recall his inspiring monologue back at Peem’s place. 

“I always thought if I agreed to the dating stuff, people would only try to be how they think I want them to be”

Fang simultaneously has the urge to burst out crying and laughing. Laugh at himself because that’s what he’s been doing continuously, and cry because Tan is confessing to him how much he hates it. 

Not more than Fang hates himself. 

“Or I'd end up changing myself so they wouldn’t stop liking me”

Thankfully, neither Fang, Daisy nor Khaofang have changed around Tan. No, all his identities are perfectly intact. 

“It wouldn't be genuine”

His eyes roam all over Fang - resting a bit too long on his lips - before settling back on Fang's. Fang, though, is busy examining how Tan's freckles change in the nighttime. 

“But you” 

His thumb keeps stroking along his jawline, and he instinctively closes his eyes and nuzzles into it - purely to pretend like this is a date night and nothing more. 

“You don't care”

He suddenly gets DejaVu. In his mind, he calculates how much time passed between the day Mary claimed the same to when she found out, figuring that perhaps, history can repeat itself - rather, desperately searching for an excuse to delay it. 

“You prioritise being yourself over being liked”

Like he’s been physically stabbed, his eyes fly open and his stomach contracts painfully, a wave of queasiness hitting him. The universe is really out to punch sense into him - figuratively for now. Tan, however, seems to deduce that Fang is not used to intimacy and getting analyzed this way - which he also isn’t. 

“Like I do”

All the while he was delivering his lines, they didn’t move an inch, and although Fang’s intentions for tonight are to wreck everything they are beginning to build, his brain can’t prevent his body from soaking up the closeness. 

“That's the spark?” 

“That was the attraction”

Unable to stop him - and not really wanting to, honestly - Tan is kissing him. Finally kissing him how Fang pictured him kissing. Soft and uninhibited, like he’s saying ‘you’re mine’ and ‘I’m yours’ in the same breath. While it’s not their first kiss per se, it’s at least first place in his heart. 

“You're the most genuine person I know”

Rudely, he gets thrown out of his fantasy and returns to earth. The previous comforting warmth in his body is heating up with anxiety, while Tan remains blissfully unaware in his bubble of ‘ everything is just right’ . 

“The spark was just a natural consequence”

“Right…” 

If he doesn’t do it now, it could very well be that he’ll end up postponing it until the danger levels are so critically high, that he just spits it out - and then he’ll make mistake after mistake until there’s no fixing it. Ever. 

“I need to tell you something”

There it is. A good start. 

“Me too”

Naturally, he’s also intrigued by what Tan is keeping in, so he chooses to be deliberately vague, giving Tan a shot to take over the wheel again. 

It’s pathetic, and cowardly, and selfish, and stupid - everything in him though is demanding more time with Tan. 

Only a bit more time. 

So he twists in Tan’s embrace and looks up, waiting for Tan’s stare to join him. 

Tan’s Pov: 

“I always envied them the most, you know”

“The stars?” 

Fang nods slowly, his gaze never leaving the twinkling constellations above them. 

“They're actually just burning chemicals. There's nothing special or extraordinary about them, far from it”

Tan's first instinct is to reach out and simply touch him. Reassure him. But, after gradually discovering the type of person Fang is, he decides it's best to not interrupt him. Not until he's truly got everything off his chest. 

“And yet, by simply existing, from so far away, people love them. They find them pretty. They never have to worry about people getting close and discovering that maybe, all their assumptions were wrong”

Perceiving Fang's fingers twitch, he can't suppress the urge any longer and intertwines his with his own. To make sure Fang won't get distracted, he merely waits. Waits for him to pull away, to continue speaking, to perhaps open up another topic. When Fang ultimately turns to face him, he gives his hand a reassuring squeeze. 

“They don't have to work for anything”

“To be pretty?”

Khaofang huffs, but there's no annoyance behind it, no malice. Perhaps because he understands Tan truly wants to understand him, not mock him.

“For approval. Validation”

His voice has dropped to a whisper now - Tan is fairly certain that he'd still hear him, even if they were surrounded by a thousand more. 

“Appreciation”

Carefully, because it feels right to him, and because what he has with Fang, he can't allow himself to mess up, he lifts his free hand and cups his cheek again, wanting to be as close to him as possible, filled with awe and admiration for his strength to be so open with Tan. 

“I don't think it's you who has to work for anything”

There's something about the way Fang leans into it - trusts Tan to not hurt him - that makes his chest unbearably tight with affection. He still doesn’t have enough of Fang - could probably never - so he slips his hand out of Fang’s and wraps it around his waist, drawing him in until their foreheads meet. 

“I think it's other people. As soon as they go the extra mile, work extra hard to tear down your walls-” 

Catching a stray tear making its way down, he monitors every single of Fang's reactions.

“Then your blinding, indestructible, all natural beauty will reveal itself”

“Where did you learn to be such a romantic?” 

“Only when it comes to you” 

Through multiple tears, Fang manages to force out a giggle.

“You put in extra work for me?”

Laughing quietly, because even snotty and pouty Fang is the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, he shakes his head.

“You make it the easiest thing in the world”

Fang’s Pov: 

In this moment, right here, when they're both at their most vulnerable. When Tan hopefully knows how much he means to Fang. When Fang hopefully managed to let Tan see right through him. There's no better time to test their bond, he assumes.

It's now or never.

However, as soon as he surmises he's found the ability to talk again, Tan's second hand moves from his face to his waist - gentle, secure - and it makes his breath hitch long enough for Tan to say the most dreadful, horrible thing in the world.

“I love you”

Every other thought,word, feeling, sensation that Fang previously had dissipate instantaneously.

No.

Not this.

Not now.

He feels nauseous.

His boyfriend seems to interpret his reaction differently - or maybe precisely how Fang intended to - because he backs off, expression twisted into a frown, even if his eyes remain as warm as ever.

“I mean, it might be a bit too early for you, considering all you went through, and it might be a bit sudden but honestly you completely turned everything upside down in my life and inside of me, and you're honestly just amazing, and oh god I'm sorry if I made you nervous or anything, and you don't have to say it back yet -” 

“I love you”

He regrets the words as soon as they leave his mouth. Not because he doesn't mean it - in fact, he's pretty sure he was the one to catch feelings in the first place (at least when it comes to Tan and Khaofang). It's because now he's absolutely ruined everything. Once Tan finds out, he's certain nobody could recover - neither Tan nor him nor their relationship.

How on earth is Tan ever supposed to trust him again? 

Tan, who's currently gaping at Fang as if he were an uncovered, until tonight unseen constellation in the sky. To ease his nerves a tad - therefore fueling Fang's anxiety - he steps back into Tan's proximity, giving him a nonverbal cue to resume their hug, even going so far as to cross his arms behind Tan’s nape to warn him not to escape again.  

“Really?” 

He does. He really, really loves him. Which is why he never should've done this in the first place. It's a good thing he's already teared up after all, so when he gulps down the next wave of sobs and his voice has the tiniest quivering edge to it, Tan doesn't suspect the worst.

“ Yes” 

“That's what you wanted to tell me?” 

If there's one word to describe Fang's state of mind, it would be chaos. He's conflicted between feeling the duty of being honest, and too in love to end this moment. While a part of him is screaming that he promised to never be that person, a larger part just wants to bask in Tan's affections a bit longer.

“...yes” 

It's unbearable how much influence Fang's words and gestures have on Tan at this point. The second the typical, wide grin is back in place, Fang's chest constricts painfully. What doesn't kill him is the sight of Tan being happy. What does kill him is the knowledge Tan won't be happy for long.

Not with Fang, at least.

“So we really are connected, huh?”

His boyfriend taps against his temple playfully - and Fang wants to cry again. 

“I guess”

Getting hauled into a strong embrace and lifted off the ground to get spun around while Tan groans delighted, he’s more than thankful he doesn’t have to look at Tan’s face again - otherwise the tears that are inevitably silently rolling down his cheeks would be much tougher to conceal. 

“I’m so glad I found you” 

The softness, the breathlessness, the warmth, the pure carefreeness - it’s all overwhelming. He’s so disappointed and angry at himself, he wants to disappear - if Mary doesn’t murder him first.

Either way, he’ll die at the end of this. 

Chapter Text

Chapter 12

Astonishingly, he’s somehow accomplished not to cry again the whole way home. Around halfway, where their roads split, Tan kisses him goodbye and stands there until Fang can’t see him anymore. Even more amazing is that he still keeps it in - for some unnecessary reason - the whole way back. Maybe he’s attempting to toughen up,  like his dad once told him, to not break down immediately into an incoherent, unintelligible mess the moment Tan finds out. But the second his entryway comes into frame, it’s over. He’s sobbing so hard, he stumbles through the door and up the stairs, hoping he won’t tumble back down. Possessing just enough awareness to softly shut his door, he kicks off his shoes and throws himself onto the mattress, proceeding to wet his pillow. Once he’s found the ability to breathe and think again, he gets his phone. It doesn’t matter whether or not she’ll answer, not even if she’s online, he needs to let it out. 

‘Mary’

The next surprise is that the message is instantly delivered and read. Quickly, he glances at the clock. 

1.22AM.

It seems like she was waiting just as nervously as he’s been. 

‘Fang’

And now, he’ll have to disappoint her as much as himself. 

‘How’d it go?’

Briefly, he pauses, eyes glued on his screen. Any reply he can give her would be false, so he’s about to text something along the lines of ‘it didn’t’, when she begins spamming. 

‘Hello?’

‘????’

‘Khaofang’

Without overthinking it, he chooses the first response that comes to mind. The most honest one. 

‘I majorly fucked up’ 

‘Oh god’

While he should be clarifying that her worst case scenarios did in fact not happen, and she should please not run Tan’s door in and go on a rant to both console him and defend Fang’s decisions - if that is possible and if Fang still deserves it - he’s more distraught about Mary trusting him to have done it. Mary expected him to go through with it and repay them both for their kindness and help by simply telling the truth. He couldn’t even do that. 

So, he not only failed Tan, but Mary too. 

Great. 

‘What did you do?’

That’s what he’s been asking himself from the first day Tan realized he existed. 

Oh god, what the hell did he do? 

The following morning, he contemplates faking an illness to not have to face the siblings. His parents might try to convince him, but he can put on a very good act if he wants to. As a child, he constantly did so to get out of quizzes and tests he didn’t feel confident in or didn't study sufficiently for, just to not get a bad grade and a long scolding. However, his mind really isn’t fond of that idea, because that’s evading the inevitable. It’s a miserable way to avoid facing his well earnt punishment. So he arrives extra early, hides in hallways, and uses the other exit to his building, all in hopes to have one day where neither finds him. Unsurprisingly, as soon as lunchtime rolls around, all his tries are in vain. She races in his direction like an arrow, precise and fast, ready to pin its target with ease. And due to her enhanced speed and strength, he only makes it as far as to stand up and turn his back before he's being yanked down by his collar. 

“No no no”

Very slowly, he turns around, not even pretending he's clueless about what she means. 

“You stay here”

Getting pushed down, he stares up at her in fear. 

“There it is”

“Imagine you’re me”

“I don’t want to”

The murderous glare he gets gifted with is enough to shut up any endeavour of deflection.

“Imagine this”

Defeated - he didn't even have a chance to fight - he exhales. 

“I’m in my room, chilling, doing my stuff, not wanting to be bothered, playing and replaying what the hell you must've done”

Good to know that Fang wasn't alone in his self hatred. The question remaining is which one among them is more upset with Fang. 

“My brother bursts in” 

Mentioning Tan already makes him wince and look guilty without needing any further interrogation. 

“And is in a surprisingly good mood”

He keeps his eyes down while drinking his coffee, despite no amount of caffeine making these conditions tolerable. 

“You know - considering the conversation you guys had”

What Mary might not know is that the topic of their conversation, though being separate from the once previously promised, dealt in fact with something serious and sensitive. What might not help Fang’s case if he pointed this out would be how incredible Tan handled it. 

“But no he’s all smiles and giggles and disgusting”

For a second, he contemplates whether a course of action exists that could steer this away from disaster - regretfully, not unlike Fang, Mary doesn’t tend to beat around the bush. 

“Drops the bomb”

She mimics the motion, letting the silence linger for accentuation of the significance. 

“That you told him you loved him”

His strategy of ‘if I ignore it, it’ll go away’ gets ruined by fingers curling around his chin and forcing his head up, reminiscent of what Tan did about twelve hours ago - only with added pressure. 

“Fang”

One single word punches him square in the chest, making it difficult to breathe. 

“Now imagine my reaction”

Picturing it serves as a short intermission of levity in this otherwise grim situation.

“I know you’re doing it”

After releasing him, she shoves his face slightly aside - in order for him not to notice the hardly perceivable smile that flits across her face.

“This isn’t the time for jokes!”

Regardless of how clipped her tone is, and how hot her blood must be boiling, there’s something else reflecting in her eyes, overshadowing the evident aggravation: pity. 

“You did what?!”

“I’m sorry”

The apology is the first thing he isn't reluctant to say - it's also the only thing he won't get reprimanded for. 

“I wanted to so badly, I just-”

Suddenly, his mouth goes dry, as if his brain is blocking any more redundant and sloppy justifications for his misbehavior. 

“He looked so-”

The sound of Mary's palm hitting the table makes him flinch. 

“No. There’s no excuse” 

Maybe Fang’s subconscious is making him hear things in an effort to protect him from feeling so harshly attacked, but he thinks there’s an undertone of sympathy, something along the lines of ‘you’re hurting yourself too with this’. 

“There’s no reasonable explanation” 

Essentially, he believes there is one. Nevertheless, he won’t disagree with the fact that him being in love with Tan and not wanting to lose him doesn’t outweigh the disadvantages of him purposely creating the impression to Tan that he’s someone entirely different. No, that’s not the whole truth. He is who Tan thinks he is - he’s just also different. 

“What are you going to do now?” 

“I’ll tell him”

He raises his hands in surrender to appease her as best as he can as she’s about to talk back. 

“I know what this looks like”

“Like you’re running away from responsibility again?” 

“Believe me. I’ll tell him”

Fang deliberately dodges any type of engagement in that assumption because even though she’s absolutely right, it hurts nevertheless. 

“Right tomorrow”

“Today”

Briefly, he's left stunned. Explaining to Mary why admitting he lied to Tan for months after the latter said the three most important words in their relationship is the worst move ever isn’t something he deems necessary. His frown however is met by uncompromising stubbornness from the person on the opposite side. 

“Okay but what if we let it sink…?”

He definitely possesses enough self restraint - and trained himself since childhood - not to cry in public, every single one of his last syllables crack with discomfort at that prospect. 

“Settle-”

“Today”

The urgency in her demand informs him clearly that this is an ultimatum in disguise. 

“Today” 

Right after class, he wants to lock himself in his room and perhaps stare at his wall for as long as it takes until he’s not only emotionally prepared, but also discovers a script that conveys his profession appropriately. Except, that’s not what he gets to do because five minutes prior to exiting campus, he gets a text from Tan asking him to hang out since he hasn’t seen him all day. Just as he thought he’d escape, the universe really reminded him why this is so important - and why postponing it is unacceptable. He can’t find it in himself to place another lie on his massive pile, so he sends an affirmation as soon as he receives the invitation. This could be something positive, in a very ridiculous and twisted way. If he can compel himself to go through with it, too, then maybe he can earn some merit. 

Which is why he’s currently pacing up and down at the gates of the park near his university, jotting down every single line that pops up in his mind, no matter how absurd they sound, just to have any point of reference. 

“Hey, I love you but I betrayed you?”

He instantly strikes this option, due to multiple issues - opening up with ‘I love you, but…’ is bad enough as it is, but the wording he created is the definition of insincere. 

“Hey, my dear boyfriend, did you know I lied to you?”

This one is unquestionably better than the first, but he doubts his backbone, envisioning Tan cracking a joke and rendering Fang weak - like usual. 

“Surprise, I actually know you for a long time”

Shutting off his display, he stuffs his phone back into his back pocket, ruffling his hair and closing his eyes. 

“Why is this so hard?”

To soothe his nerves, he massages his temples, unfazed if he gets a headache within the next minute due to the stress. 

“Maybe I just do it immediately”

Couples enjoying their date, families savouring a nice day out, and even dogs on leashes and birds in the trees all examine him like he’s crazy, whispering to themselves or producing noises that sound awfully close like laughter. 

Or, he’s really going mad with shame. 

“Be blunt with it”

He stands still and gazes down at his shoes, in the exact manner he’d do if Tan was really in front of him. 

“Tan, I’m Daisy”

Identically to what he’d do in that scenario, the second those words are spoken, his fight or flight system activates, and he returns to march from side to side swiftly. 

“No, I could never”

Hiding his face in his hands at his own incompetence, he whines distinctly. 

“It’s useless. I am Daisy” 

“Hey”

Horrified, he spins on his heel, not ready to see whatever expression his boyfriend has on his face. Instead of shock, or sadness, or anger, he spots Tan taking his earphones out of his left ear and slipping them into the case before grinning up at him. 

“Talking to ourselves now?”

He’s still apprehensive about if this is an act or not, too afraid to lull himself into safety following that tremendous slip up. 

“I…”

“I get it”

Tan’s chill appearance and open body language make him frown directly. 

“You do?”

“It must’ve been boring waiting for me”

Gathering that his boyfriend did indeed not catch that last part, and he’s truly happy to see him, Fang loosens up and bites his lip, not intending to show Tan how relieved he is. 

Because he shouldn’t be.

Exactly how he shouldn’t be leaning into his hug and smile as wide as he does when Tan plants a kiss under his ear. 

“Sorry I’m late” 

“It’s fine”

For a phrase so trivial, it sounds way too meaningful. Probably it’s exactly what he wants to hear Tan say soon. 

As the hours pass, he guesses he’s lost the timing altogether. A ‘perfect’ timing was never in the picture to begin with, but at least earlier, he had some sort of opening. Now, it’s becoming increasingly difficult to interfere with this tranquility and harmony between them. Not because he’s unsure about wanting to be honest. It’s because he’s physically unable to find any word or sentence that could smoothly transition into his confession. And despite its lacking material presence, he senses the ticking of the clock inside of him. At the end of this day, if he doesn’t muster up the courage to do it, Mary will do it for him, that’s certain. He can’t have that. Since his speech isn’t cooperating with him yet, he starts by coming to a physical halt, dragging Tan with him to a secluded part of the path they’re strolling on. The sun is already setting behind the hills in the park, and his head automatically associates the disappearing light behind the horizon with the falling grains in an hourglass. 

“So?”

Too focused on the scenery, aiming to get this right, he’s startled groundless by his boyfriend’s voice behind him. 

“What?”

“You’re easy to read. Whatever it is, just say it”

Exploiting the cover they have, he envelops Fang in a backhug, resting his chin on his shoulder. Possibly noticing that something is bothering him, he pokes Fang right where his dimples usually sit. 

“It’s me”

He fastens his hold in an effort to reassure him - to Fang, however, it feels like he’s strangling him. 

“You can tell me anything”

The discrepancy between where both are physically and emotionally is monumental - even worse is that only is aware of it.

“Right”

Simply blurting it out and fleeing the scene before assessing the wreck he’ll cause isn’t what Tan deserves - neither is being abandoned to deal with the fallout alone. So Fang turns around, securing his clutch around Tan’s neck, as if doing that will literally prohibit Tan from giving up on Fang and make him stay until he’s forgiven him. 

“I do need to tell you something”

“I got that far on my own”

“Shut up for a second”

Despite his distress amplifying his characteristic bite, Tan just chuckles, clearly thinking it’s cute - he might be biased anyway. 

“I need to say something and I need you to not freak out”

The immediate switch in Tan’s expression could almost make him laugh the same way - if there was anything remotely amusing about this.

“Wasn’t going to until you said that”

He runs through all the choices he has to make this the least painful, yet he always encounters a dead end. 

“Tan, listen-”

What would’ve been a disorganized and partially mumbled, partially frantic delivery of his admission filled with contradictions is once again cut short - this time by Tan’s phone vibrating. The one thing he can give the fates credit for is their sense of humor. Seriously, having one consequential moment in their relationship interrupted by a notification is tiring enough - a second time is purely a bad joke. 

“Oh sorry, wait”

As soon as he sees who’s calling, he lets go of Fang begrudgingly, much to the latter’s dismay, since this isn’t going according to his imagination. 

“Damn. I’m so sorry, it’s work”

In the span it takes for Tan to distance himself slightly and have whatever conversation that has to be a nuisance by the looks of it, he reconsiders his idea, seeking for a chance to back out - which the universe seems to graciously provide on its own. 

“A colleague is sick so I offered to take the opening shift tonight”

He can’t suppress the bitter laugh at yet a new intervention. 

“Of course you did”

His boyfriend seems to conclude Fang’s behavior can be attributed to ‘boyfriend being irritated by being figuratively stood up’ - which is halfway true - and reaches for his hand with an apologetic grimace. 

“Is it urgent?”

Obviously, Tan is in a hurry to get to the bar. He knows that although he acts all carefree, he appreciates his job and takes it very seriously - another one of the countless reasons Fang fell for him - so he sighs and shakes his head. 

“If you gotta go, just go”

Because Tan cares so goddamn much constantly, he doesn’t move yet, asking Fang with his eyes for approval to go. 

“It’s okay. I’ll see you later”

“Okay. Don’t forget to save it for later” 

Raising their joint hands, he kisses Fang’s knuckles repeatedly, not ceasing until he catches him ultimately breaking into a smile - Fang doesn’t do it voluntarily. 

“See you babe”

Oh no. Perfect. That was his final opportunity. 

The last and least ideal solution is the sole one left: Daisy has to take over the job. 

Tan’s Pov:

He repents his choice for the rest of the evening. Clearly, whatever Fang wanted to tell him was pressing, otherwise he wouldn't have struggled so much with letting him go, right? 

However, if it was truly something worth freaking out over, then Fang wouldn't have let it slide, either. Maybe he's just overthinking something that's minor to Tan but major to Fang - something like wanting to meet his mother. In fact, Tan brought up visiting his mum with Fang so she can finally put a face to the countless stories he's spilled to her. Fang always takes everything to heart and doesn't show it, while Tan always displays his emotions and therefore doesn't need to bottle anything up. Still, he keeps circling back to that moment, wondering what was left unsaid. At one point, he's so stuck in his daydream that he unintentionally bumps into Peem and shatters the glass he was busy drying - something that never occurred to him before. He should definitely text Fang if he's available to sleep over again to gain some clarity. 

Which is why, in comparison to other days, he's blending everything out, the night rushing by at double speed. He cracks not nearly enough jokes, he doesn't play with his interactions, he doesn't even engage in any bickering with Peem. Not even Daisy's show brings him back to reality. His mind replays that whole interplay front to back in an effort to collect any hints Fang could've subconsciously given him. Is it related to him? Related to Fang? Is it about their relationship? 

Was he about to break up with Tan? That doesn't track with Fang's previous actions and behaviour. But what else would make him this nervous? 

Every interim result ends up being dismantled easily, so he lands at ‘inconclusive’ each time. Tan isn't normally the type to be immensely inquisitive, but when it comes to Fang, he wants to become an expert in everything ‘Fang’ - and he does feel a bit satisfied that he has seen sides of Fang no one else has access to. 

Something that does eventually catch his attention is a fully coincidental observation - which is ironic, seeing as most crucial parts of his life recently have been coincidental. On his way back from the bathroom - where he only went to escape for a moment and attempt to slap some sense into him - he gets a glimpse of the most unpredictable image: Phum greeting a very well known figure at the entrance, handing him a bag and apparently admonish him - a scolding which the other willingly accepts, nodding along and muttering something back before pinky promising Tan's friend something, then accompanying him outside. 

Daisy and Phum know each other? That is a plot twist that changes a lot of what he thought he knew. If those two are familiar with each other, then that grants him two possibilities: trying to query Phum to get closer to who this mystery guy is, or perhaps asking Daisy himself. He wonders if he stays calm and collected, and doesn’t overwhelm Daisy with questions, and they’re not surrounded by people who are equally as curious about his identity for entirely different reasons, maybe then, Daisy might open up a bit. Oddly enough, by now, other emotions have overpowered his initial crush. What once was simple admiration and undeniable attraction to his physical features has transformed into genuine prying why the hell he’s gone from total stranger to hauntingly familiar. So, Phum and Daisy being at least acquaintances means Tan must know him too, either by face or name. Someone he played football with? Someone from class? 

He’s more determined than ever to finally get an answer. 

Fortunately, as he pushes the door open, he spots them standing just a few metres away, likely waiting for Peem, he assumes. Approaching the pair, he watches as Phum tilts his head and whispers something to Daisy before greeting Tan and heading back inside to sweep in line a knight in shining armour after Tan deserted poor Peem - he scoffs at him with a friendly grin. This short meeting however turns out to be the same moment Daisy settles he's not keen on meeting Tan himself, since he's passed by Tan unnoticed, and the latter only accomplishes to enter his proximity because Daisy is taken aback by Tan not returning to the bar but trail behind him.

“Hey”

To his utter surprise, the person addressed actually turns over his shoulder at the sound of Tan’s voice, slowing his steps but still walking away from him. 

“I wanted to-”

Faintly, his fingers brush Daisy’s sweaty forearm before the latter flinches away.

“You don't have to be scared of me”

Just as quickly as he detects who his company is, Daisy averts himself and keeps going. 

“I just-”

But then, Daisy abruptly accelerates, leaving Tan to elevate his speed as well - the pursued person however is unexpectedly fast, and vanishes from his field of vision rapidly. 

“Seriously?”

His last resort is to either admit defeat or hunt him down like an animal - both of them unappealing. In the end, he does manage to catch up to him as far as to reach for the strap of his bag - which Daisy then snatches towards him to not allow Tan close. While doing so, though, Tan perceives something topple out of it in his peripheral version. 

“Hey!”

As he moves to chase after him once more - an impulsive reaction - he accidentally steps on something soft, making him pause. 

“You dropped some-”

The moment he locks eyes with the token that fell out of Daisy’s bag, sticking out on the dark, dirty cobblestones, the whole world spins. 

“... thing” 

Picking it up, he dusts it off lovingly with one hand, while the other practically squishes it by how tightly it is buried around the small, velvet body.

Regardless of how often he closes and opens his eyes, and twists the little plushie in his hands, it doesn't change. 

A yellow daisy in a purple jumpsuit, the extra stickers he handpicked and gave Fang as a gift just the night before, sparkles in its eyes beaming at Tan so happily - the second thing he notices while glaring daggers at the poor flower in his hands is the smudged ink on his fingers. 

He's going to be sick.

Chapter Text

Chapter 13

Fang’s Pov:

He knows he totally should’ve texted and informed Mary beforehand - running into Tan in his state won’t be good in any way - but he’s so anxious, he needs to hear a voice of reason currently. If he’s lucky - since Mary’s room is closer to the entrance - he can slip in unnoticed. Fortunately, his best friend and her sixth sense manage to spot him before he’s even fully through the door, quickly dragging him in. Instantly, he starts to freak out, mumbling self deprecating comments while running in circles. 

“What’s wrong with you?” 

“I lost it”

She blinks at him as if he’s referring to his mental wellbeing, not the most precious item he possesses. 

“Mary you don’t understand”

He begins gesticulating, using every outlet available to get rid of this persistent agitation. 

“I lost it. How can I lose it?”

Although it is meant as genuinely desperate, it also has a touch of irony swinging by. Because of course he knows how - by running away from responsibility, time and time again. By not having disappeared when he wanted to. By letting Tan too close - again. 

“I’m seriously the worst boyfriend ever”

Groaning - no, actually whimpering - he repeatedly hits his head in frustration.

“And the worst person too”

“Fang, calm down”

Holding him firmly by the arms, she gives a warning glare to where Tan’s room sits at the end of the hall. 

“No, let him hear it”

Intentionally, he raises the volume of his voice. 

“I suck”

Scolding, she narrows her eyes and covers his mouth with her hand, making the following insult directed at himself sound muffled. 

“I’m a horrible human being”

“Please”

Because he’s still not done, he frees himself and resumes his pacing. 

“I didn’t do it”

Not hesitant about checking her attitude towards that confession, he points at her predicted furrow of her brows. 

“And don’t you dare look at me like that”

Due to him not wanting to lose his hypocritical and cowardly streak, ostensibly, he averts himself as swiftly. 

“I tried to”

Recalling his various failed attempts the days prior, he can’t help but snicker bitterly. 

“And you know it”

Once he’s finished his next round, he casts her a look that hopefully reflects whatever emotions are being tossed around inside him, then goes back to spiralling. 

“Because Tan told you”

Regardless of which version and which interpretation Tan chose to disclose, it makes him sick to the stomach. 

“He told you everything, right?”

At this point, he’s more talking to himself - only due to the fact that he needs to have it spelled out frankly to comprehend it.

“I had my reasons”

Strangely, he can practically sense Mary’s need to argue, so he defends himself, although this isn’t what bothers him so badly this morning. 

“So I wanted to do it today”

He spins on his heel to scrutinize her intently. 

“But I lost it!”

Since she’s kept her bemused expression up until now, he endeavours to enlighten her to the best of his (missing) abilities. 

“He’ll break up with me and I won’t have anything to remember him”

“You’re too upset now, you’re not thinking straight”

She manages to trap him again with surprising strength, shaking him with the aim to expulse him from this headspace. 

“If you tell him in this condition, it won’t end well”

“It won’t end well either way!”

Fang is aware that if he’s about to break down when he’s only talking to Mary, he has no idea how to handle the main issue.

“Don’t you get it?”

All at once, his adrenaline rush wears off, and he hangs his head striving to conceal himself without his hands, which are currently still bound. 

“I’m already going to lose him”

There’s no ‘maybe’ in this discussion anymore. No more ‘what ifs’, no more ‘probably’ or even ‘I hope’. It’s settled. It’s decided. 

He simply wanted to have some support while doing so. 

“I can’t lose it too”

Other people might view it as an overreaction to be so attached to a stuffy. To Fang, however, it isn’t just a toy. It’s a link.

A part of Tan he promised himself to guard and take care of. 

“It’s the only thing I’ll have left to remember he cared about me once”

“Oh my god…”

Her eyes widen as she glances up at him, finally putting two and two together.

“Are you talking about-”

“Looking for something?”

The first time he heard that sentence, he felt panic. Now, however, he has this pit - or rather abyss - of inconsolable sadness.

Both of them turn to the person that suddenly materialized in the room, clutching the plush flower in one hand, and gripping the handle with the other. 

“Tan-”

“How could you?”

Fang imagined at least a dozen different scenarios on how this might go, but not once did he include Tan finding out by accident. Even more than time and place, he visualized the various emotions Tan might go through - fury, sadness, betrayal, maybe even coldness. What he didn’t expect is for him to open up with neutral detachment. 

“All of these choices you had”

Letting go of the door without closing it, he takes a step inside. 

“The moments we shared”

Instead of accusations, he’s handing out reminders to Fang. Probably so he can remember why his actions have even more dire consequences like this. 

“And you lied”

The unwelcome change in emphasis really serves to point out how extremely wrong this whole situation is. 

“You” 

Instinctively, he shuts his eyes, as if pretending someone else was addressed would magically become reality, and he’d be in the clear. 

“I called you the most honest person I know”

His logical side wants to mention that he said ‘genuine’, but thankfully, for once, his emotional side manages to overwhelm it, yelling at him that he cannot be this stupid. 

“I was so…proud of knowing you best”

With his sight disabled, he notices the vibrations of Tan’s voice and the warmth of his body to a much greater extent, almost like he’s being engulfed in Tan.

What used to be so comforting to him in the past is becoming intolerable. 

“But I don't know you at all”

Opening his eyes, he’s greeted by an unusual expression for Tan - a deep scowl. He’s regarding Fang like they haven’t seen each other in decades. 

Like a stranger.

“Who are you?” 

“Don't say that. You know me”

Mirroring his facial features - even though Fang’s are painted with sorrow, not disgust - he’s already begging. And it’s the first full sentence he’s forced out. 

“You've seen more than anyone else”

“Is that really an achievement?”

But as soon as he attempts to get closer, Tan immediately distances himself. Fang, in his most selfish opinion to exist, hopes that he has the same problem as Fang himself: When Tan is near, he can’t focus on anything else. 

“I trusted you”

Fang might’ve excelled in every subject in his whole career - and he paid extra attention to English class, as it would aid him in creating good lyrics - but even he underestimated the power a single grammatical change can have. 

“I love you”

“I love you”

“No. Don't say it”

Tan raises his hands as if he can physically block any of Fang’s attempts to approach - fleetingly, it does make him freeze and rethink his method to tackle this. 

“Please let me explain -” 

“Khaofang. There's no way out”

Helplessly, he throws Mary a look - who looks equally as lost. Since there’s no source of assistance, he turns back to Tan. 

“Can't you put yourself in my shoes for a second?” 

“Which ones?”

Emotionally battered by that verbal attack, he feels his dejection intensify - despite knowing that whatever he says, it’ll be the wrong thing, he still surmises it’s better than staying silent. 

Silence means accepting every allegation. And even though he won’t hesitate in pleading guilty for the main offense, there are certain minor misconducts he will contest. 

“Tan, seriously, I-”

The biggest obstacle that prevents him from reaching that goal nevertheless is his brain’s remarkable talent of shutting down whenever a situation becomes too dangerous for it to deal with. 

“I wanted to tell you. I was going to tell you, I swear, I just…” 

He grimaces, aware that what he’s about to drop sounds like the word’s lamest excuse, regardless of it being accurate. 

“I didn't get the chance to” 

“You could've told me from the start”

“I was too scared”

Everything he contained is tumbling out, and he can’t nor won’t stop himself from revealing it. After all, there’s no use in veiling anything. 

“Of me?” 

Hearing how wounded Tan sounds, he automatically shakes his head - even though it’s essentially the truth. 

“You probably would've just thought about Daisy every time you looked at me”

He follows Tan’s eyes scanning him head to toe, creating the impression that they can both see his other identity on his skin. 

“You would've stopped seeing…the other me”

For just a split second, it appears as though Tan is pondering on how much verity is in that assumption, before his eyes grow frosty again. 

“Yeah. Well” 

Fang observes how Tan grinds his jaw - in the same manner Fang does when he needs to control his expression. 

“I wouldn't worry about that anymore”

The only indicator that what Tan is experiencing isn’t reduced to pure disappointment is the slight tremble in his speech. 

“I think something very different when I look at you now” 

“Don't say that” 

But all his requests flame out, since he can’t recognize the Tan standing before him, much less connect him to the one he’s familiar with, Daisy as well as Fang.

“You knew from the beginning”

Due to it being a clear assertion rather than a question, he remains quiet. 

“Who I was”

He’s very shortly perplexed, the wording making him deduce that Tan is suggesting he planned on making Tan fall for him. 

Tan, however, as per usual, isn’t the type of person to think bad of him.

Tan, as always, is the only one who asks and doesn’t assume. 

“That’s why you ran away every time, right?”

“Yes”

“Because you felt guilty?”

Fidgety, his eyes wander over Tan’s face to the wall, then to the ceiling, the door, the window, settling back on Tan’s face, just to switch again, all while biting his lip in remorse. 

“Where did that guilt go?”

Justifying that the love he feels for Tan easily won over the shame time and time again won’t hold up, so he selects protection over combat. 

“It’s bigger than ever, trust me”

“That’s such a funny word”

The way in which he spits his words, almost hisses them, slides through him like a blade. 

“Trust”

“I wanted to tell you so badly because it hurt, okay?”

He can feel his panic attack brewing by the second, yet he forces himself to get a grip, not wanting to make himself look like the victim. 

“And I - I tried, and tried, and never found the right moment”

The duration between silence and his next sentence is horrifically long and oppressive.

“I never wanted to see you like this”

Bearing in mind that that’s the exact motive he had for postponing the premonition he got, he isn’t sure how beneficial admitting it is. 

“You don’t know how hard this was for me, I-”

“Oh yes, please. Please tell me how difficult this all has been for you”

“I care about you so much-”

“Stop lying!”

It’s the first time during this whole conversation that he’s witnessed Tan losing an ounce of control. Actually, it’s the first time he's ever witnessed this. Tan may be startled by this as well, since the next proclamation comes out steadier - therefore more hurtful.

“You only care about yourself, Fang”

Without giving Fang the chance to respond, he glances past him at his sister, his features softening just the tiniest bit. 

“How long?” 

Mary - obviously more than uncomfortable about being included in this emotional turmoil - spends a moment pondering if it might be better for her to abandon them. Ultimately, she folds her arms and exhales slowly. 

“Not that Long. I was going to tell you today if he didn’t yesterday” 

“So that's what you were arguing about?” 

Tan glares between both back and forth before settling on Fang once more. 

“Good to know I'm not the only one who was played a fool”

“Actually, the situation is more difficult-”

“I guess it's always difficult with him” 

Seeing that her input is neither going through nor valued presently, Mary carries on with her role as audience member. Nevertheless, he’s grateful she tried. 

“Phum knows, right?” 

Defeated and teary eyed, he only manages to nod. 

“So, does Peem know, too?”

In place of any reaction - verbal or not - the next sob erupts.

Which is enough of an affirmation for Tan. 

“Unbelievable” 

With a scoff - that resonates with how quiet the room has become - Tan dismissively discards the plushie onto the floor - and by proxy, Fang’s heart.  

“He knew who I was, but he only recently found out that you and I, we-” 

“You and I? What about you and I?”

Taken aback by the bite in his tone, he promptly shuts up. 

“There’s no ‘we’”

Fang is negatively surprised that he hasn’t begun weeping yet. Maybe, considering the position he’s in, his body and mind are in shock. 

“There's no you and I” 

Whenever he opens his mouth, his words are just as stuck as they were the multiple times prior, so he presses his lips together to indicate he won’t prevent Tan from going on his rant. 

“There's me, and Khaofang, and Daisy, and whatever version of yourself you showed me that I apparently fell in love with”

He barks out a humorless laugh - whether he’s mocking the context, Fang, or perhaps even himself, Fang isn’t sure. 

“And who's he?”

Though fully conscious of the fact that it’s a rhetorical question, he wouldn’t even have gotten a shot at replying, because Tan doesn’t give him time to even process it. 

“It's you, me, and every other you there is” 

“Can't you listen to me, please? Just a minute”

Against all odds, even in moments Fang couldn’t understand himself, Tan did. If he’s able to calm him down a bit, there could be a rest of that understanding left within him. 

“This is how we just make things worse” 

“You don't get to talk to me about communication” 

Of course his intentions get misinterpreted. Because why would the universe grant him any generosity? 

“Don't you dare”

Among them, Tan seems to be ahead of him when it comes to crying, and that serves to double down how heartbroken he feels. 

“I just want you to try and understand me” 

Fleetingly, he contemplates reaching out and holding Tan’s hand, but he believes he can’t stand to be rejected overtly, so he pinches his own hand instead. 

“Please?”

For what feels like an eternity, Tan’s entire body language and face disconnects and turns unreadable, making Fang wonder for the first time what must be going on in his mind. In fact, it’s so still that he believes even Mary is holding her breath. 

“Okay, I get that. I get that” 

Like a puppet on a string - or like a block of a hundred kilos lifts off his shoulders after holding it up for too long - he basically collapses in on himself. It’s not what he wanted to hear - but it’s a million times better than what he anticipated to hear. 

“But in order to understand you, I have to understand it first. And understand me. How I'm feeling” 

To refrain from making any dry retort - for example how Tan’s emotions seem pretty straightforward to him - he digs his nails into his arm as a threat, cursing the armor his parents compelled him to develop simultaneously. 

“I need time for that. Time and space” 

“So that's it?” 

He doesn’t intend on making it sound like a plea - no, he’s seriously interested in Tan’s opinion on their status. 

“That's how we'll end” 

The tears he’s been keeping at bay - mostly because he wants to avoid coming across as seeking pity - finally well over, spilling freely. It’s not raw, ugly wailing like he visualized. More like he’s being torn apart, piece by piece. 

“I don't know” 

Drained, Tan cards through his hair, concentrating on the ceiling lamp, then faces him again - Fang doesn’t miss the red rims around his eyes and wet eyelashes, even with lack of visible tears. 

“But don't do that” 

Dazed, he stares at Tan blankly, his current audible sobs the single clue to show how he feels  - because he doesn’t want to feel anything anymore.

“Don't make me feel bad for you” 

“I'm not! I just -” 

“I can't tell you what will happen”  

Subsequent to everything they both endured, Tan’s dominance in this conversation has now too been minimized to a murmur. 

“I'd love to say we can be friends for now” 

Fang would despise him for saying something like that. Somehow, the prospect of being friends is less appealing than being nothing. 

Yeah, his emotions for Tan are unsalvageable. 

“But I've never lied to you before” 

That hit hard. 

It hurt him so much, in fact, that he forgets how to breathe momentarily. 

“So let's just leave it at that”

Gulping, he launches a final effort to dress his gashes. 

“At ‘we don't know’?” 

“At the end”

All his hope - he didn’t even know why or how he had any in him - shatters. And Tan - stupidly sweet Tan - still looks at him like he didn’t mean to cause him any pain. 

“For now” 

An instant passes where the only sounds filling the room are his sniffling and Mary shifting her weight, her bones cracking every once in a while. As he puts together that Tan has nothing left to add, he swallows the gross mixture of mucus and gastric acid down. 

“Okay”

“Okay?”

If he was in any shape or form entitled to, he’d call out Tan’s obvious uncertainty right then and there. He’d demand him to make up his mind. Or inquire if it’s worth fighting for them. 

But the only thing he should be doing to Tan is thank him for at least trying to let Fang down somewhat gently. 

“If that's what you want”

To not have to face him for a second - and to give Tan a moment to sort out his feelings - he bends down to pick up the plushie, smoothing out its creases. 

“...yeah”

The reply doesn’t come off as assertive. However, Tan sounds as exhausted as Fang feels, and it’s obvious neither desires to prolong this dispute, so he lets him off the hook, only a tenth of how merciful Tan is being with him presently. 

“That's what I want” 

A beat of silence passes, and after it gets crystal clear nobody else will add anything, he walks past him to leave. 

“I'm sorry”

“I bet you are” 

It’s the last thing he perceives while exiting the apartment. 

The normal route he uses feels twice as long to him today - which may have something to do with him having to pause every few hundred metres to catch his breath. That, and the tiny fact he spent embarrassingly long bent over the railing to not crumble right there on the stairs, hoping no neighbor passes by to witness it. 

Only once he approaches his driveway does he quickly get rid of any remnants, not in the mood to get into a dispute with his parents. After the lock of his door clicks into place, he throws himself on his bed. His first move is to confirm whether or not Tan has blocked him - or deleted his number altogether. But he abstains from doing so. In the end, it would simply hurt worse to know. As the saying goes: what he doesn’t know won't hurt him.

Instead, he does something less stupid, but comparably risky. 

‘On a scale from one year to a lifetime’

‘How long do you think I’ll suffer?’

His messages go through, so regardless of Mary reading them or not, he takes advantage of it. 

‘This is what we wanted’

‘Right?’

‘I wanted him to know’

‘Now he does’

‘Yay.’ 

Over half an hour later - a mind-blowing record for her tendency of having her eyes glued to her screen constantly - his phone informs him of a new notification. 

‘Just give him some time’

‘Idk’

He doesn’t plan on coming off as blunt or not being engaged in this - he just doesn’t have any strength left. 

‘I do’ 

Involuntarily, he rolls his eyes at her (dubious) reassurance. 

‘I know my brother’

That’s his only flicker of light in his dark, empty future.

‘He’s not like that’

More than anyone, Fang should make that statement. 

Tan is loving, and too kindhearted, and warm, and always searches for the positive side in everything. But Tan is also just a human. And as a human who wears his heart on his sleeve for everyone to see and steal, it’s only natural that a terrible human being snatches it and tramples on it - Fang never imagined it would be him. 

‘Wait for him to come back’

‘He won’t’ 

‘He will’

Past Fang - the one who set his mind on doing this the proper and flawless way - would’ve agreed. Present Fang - the one on the receiving end of Tan’s resentment - wants to renounce her empathy.

‘He’s rightfully angry’

‘He needs to calm down’

‘Then he’ll understand’

Subconsciously, that’s precisely what he predicted her to answer. Still, standard or not, it does the trick in lessening the shaking in his body. 

‘Trust me’

After what that subtle promise did to him, he’s caught off guard by how touching it is that she’s putting any trust in him. 

‘I don’t like taking sides’

Fang has already halfway finished his answer when the next message appears. 

‘And you’re still someone I care about’

Instantly erasing it, he blearily gazes at his keyboard, thoughts vacant. 

‘So I’m always here if you need to talk to someone’

Plausibly, she’s pitying him, since there’s no one else he could talk to. Technically, he does have Phum. Unfortunately, his brother loves him as much as Fang loves Phum, so the latter most definitely will either be biased or suck at giving good advice. 

‘Only over text tho’

To Fang, it’s wild that Mary even feels the need to add that. After all, he wouldn’t even demand her to look at him anymore, even less to lend him an ear. 

‘For the time being’

‘I get that’

While he does get why she’s keeping it low-key, he still fails to grasp why she would even wish to continue any sort of relationship with him. 

‘Thank you’

He’d be fine if this is how far their communication will go for a while. When he goes to put his device away, however, the bubble at the corner of his screen pops up again. 

‘I’m proud of you btw’

‘For what?’

Upon getting that unwarranted praise, he frowns. This Mary is a 180 turn from the one intimidating him two days ago. 

Unintentionally, his approval starving self appreciates it nonetheless. 

‘I did everything wrong’

‘You tried’

A part of Fang is convinced his repetition manipulated her into being persuaded. 

‘You wanted to do it’

Reading that affirmation from someone involved in both perspectives makes his nose sting. 

‘I believe you’

Great. Now he’s crying again - for an entirely different reason.

‘And you tried’

He wishes that could’ve been enough. 

‘That’s something to be proud of’

Without hesitation, he types out the thought that’s been swirling around in his head. 

‘You’re much better than I deserve’

‘Don’t get used to it’

Through the salty tears trickling down his cheeks, he begins smiling, albeit a fragile one. Typical Mary.

She’s really not mad at him. 

‘<3’ 

Tan’s Pov: 

He hasn't left his room in hours. Or at least it feels like hours. As a matter of fact, he hasn't even switched positions in hours. The only thing he was able to do after that disaster is stumble into his room and fall onto his mattress. Since then, he's been staring at the ceiling, reviewing the whole day - and everything else that lead up to it. 

So is that truly what Fang wanted to tell him yesterday? And the night before? But if that’s the case, why didn’t he go through with it? If he really felt bad, and wanted Tan to know, why didn’t he do it? Did he not deem it important enough? How could he not care about honesty? Or Tan’s feelings? 

Much to his dismay, Fang's voice - or rather plea - keeps replaying in his head. 

“I wanted to tell you so badly” 

He goes through his recollection, gathering any hint he can find that Fang actually told the truth. 

The timelines of Tan meeting Fang and Daisy's sudden interest in him do line up. The minute he and Khaofang grew closer, Daisy returned to being more distant. Then he flashes back to that night. Once they start dating, Daisy goes back to paying attention? Daisy - Fang - dedicates a song to him? What was that for? Was that Fang testing the waters? Did he want Tan to react to it? For what? 

Then he remembers the looks Fang and Mary exchanged at brunch. He thought they were still bickering about whatever they disagreed on before. Technically, they did. Tan just never imagined it would be something as dire as this. 

The next memory arises. Fang meeting him outside of the building. Phum holding the bag. The way Fang's brother regarded both. How Fang refused to change clothes. The long time he spent in the bathroom. 

The drawn on tattoos. The smudged ink on Tan's hands. The faded ink on Fang's hands back then. He stupidly assumed it may have been charcoal. Remnants of an art project. Fang being an artist. How delicately and intricate and fucking creative he thought his designs were. 

How could he have missed all these signs? Is he an idiot? Or did he simply want to ignore anything that could shake his perception of their relationship? 

Suddenly, the saying ‘blinded by love’ makes sense to him. 

And how correct is Fang in his reasoning? How much of his thought process is actually understandable to Tan? No, he doesn't want to think about that yet. Fang doesn't deserve sympathy - at least not today. Today, he has a right to be irate. And just deeply betrayed. Disappointed. He wants to be angry at him for a while because he can't wrap his head around how shamelessly Fang did it. Despite his claims about feeling so wretched, he sure put in effort to keep the lie alive and well. Every other way would've wounded Tan nonetheless. But being straightforward would've hurt a bit less. And he'd still had some respect for Fang left. Sighing, he rolls around a final time, grabbing his phone from the nightstand. 

He needs to cancel tonight. Just seeing Fang in his state is impossible. 

‘I don’t think I can come in’

Because he’s usually the one dragging Peem to work, he contemplates which excuse his best friend might let pass.

‘I’m like super sick’

It isn’t a lie per se. He’s dizzy, and queasy, and frankly tired. 

‘No you’re not’

‘Wow harsh’

‘It’s okay’

Briefly, he’s relieved at Peem letting it slide, looking forward to being alone with his thoughts.

‘He won’t come tonight’ 

Nevermind then. 

Tan guesses that he can count that as an act of decency on Fang’s accord. School will be uncomfortable. His favorite cafe won’t feel the same anymore. His favorite spot in the park will lose its magic. 

The least he can do is give back his workplace to Tan. 

‘I’m sorry btw’

He snorts at the profundity. Peem is the kind to avoid conflict and always searches for an harmonious dynamic, despite his sassy eye rolls and sharp tongue. Like someone else he knows. 

Due to its nonexistent effects, he grabs his pillow and smacks it relentlessly against his skull in an attempt to box these thoughts out of him. Ultimately, his self punishment gets cut short by a second message lighting up his display. He considers switching over to silent mode - or do not disturb - to not be seduced by the notion of reaching out. However, he isn't going to give him that power. 

‘Sorry I didn’t tell you’

‘I know’

There's nothing he detests more than being at dissonance with anyone. Even worse when it comes to someone like Peem. 

‘Don’t worry’ 

Another thing Tan won't award him authority over. 

‘We’ll talk later’ 

As soon as he steps into the facility, he wants to exit just as quickly. But, having an external reaction and daring anyone to notice how downright depressed he is would endanger his entire indifferent persona. 

So he works. He does what he’s always done. Amps up the flirty comments, widens his smile painfully, takes on double the amount of tasks he’s required to do. Anything to distract him from everything that disrupts his life. 

Anything to demonstrate that he doesn’t miss him already. 

At this moment, thankfully, there’s only two people capable of calling him out on his bullshit. One of those is held up by timing a ‘shots’ competition. 

The other? 

Well, the other seems to have set her mind on making that her job. 

“Don't you think you are being -” 

“Hurt? Difficult?”

Glancing up from where he’s been artfully stacking glasses - an aimless assignment he’s only doing to not tune down his brain - he raises an eyebrow wryly. 

“Unreasonable?” 

“Annoying”

The sound produced by him setting down the glasses far more vigorously than intended makes even the crowd on the other side of the bar look in his direction. 

“Two idiots” 

At the not so subtle incorporation of judging both their behaviors, he lets out a groan. The next mistake he makes is to let himself drift off to how he is possibly coping with the split - just to promptly eliminate that picture. 

“Why did you forgive me?”

He knows she’s simply trying to switch strategies to keep the topic afloat - and he decides that playing along might indicate how not afflicted he is by his loss. 

“Because you wanted to give him the chance to be honest” 

Although his initial to-do list of the day exclusively included ‘wallowing’, merely about half an hour later, his sister intruded his personal space without warning, demanding - not asking - to chat. She said she needed to make sure that he understood her point. 

Then she disclosed every detail she had. 

“Because you tried to force him the whole time” 

“Why did you forgive Peem?”

“Because he had nothing to do with this” 

Tan was aware that he’d never manage being angry with more than one person, especially not Peem. And he was also okay with it. 

Plus, it never was neither Peem’s nor Mary’s nor even Phum’s place to alert him. From the beginning, the blame and guilt rested solely on Fang’s shoulders. 

“He accidentally got into this mess” 

Impromptu, his eyes wander to the individual in question.

“He didn't know” 

Without moving his head, he peeps back at her. 

“He had no choice” 

Meanwhile, Mary rests her chin atop of her hand and inspects him thoroughly, as if she’s contemplating whether to say the follow up or not. 

“And why can't you forgive Fang?” 

“He chose to lie to me”

Since he reckoned she’d eventually circle back to what’s significant to her - and to Fang, a little voice in the furthest corner of his brain reminds him - he arranged his clapback in advance. It’s a relief his voice is accordingly composed. 

“He actively wanted to deceive me” 

“Did he?”

Naturally, he scowls. He won’t rebuke her for advocating for her close friend. After all, Mary knows best what’s going on inside of Fang - a fact that will haunt him for the time being. 

“Or was he actively avoiding the punishment”

He doesn’t enjoy that she phrased it as a statement in place of a query. 

“The judging eyes” 

More uncomfortable than that is her piercing gaze drilling a hole into him. As if she’s accusing him of being an accomplice. 

“You know how his family is” 

On one hand, Tan immaturely is about to claim that no, he doesn’t know anything about him. That he won’t ever insist he knows him. But then again - Tan doesn’t believe lying about something like this would profit that person. 

“And at school” 

For all her directness and her tenacious antagonism for sentimentality, she sure has a way to get through to Tan. 

Yes, he has witnessed first hand how worn out his then important person is by his studies. 

Yes, there’s still some tenderness left for said person in his heart. 

Just not enough to beat the intense heartbreak. 

“And maybe he was scared of losing you” 

Among them, Mary has always been the one to be less immersed into things - be it dramas, or artworks, or music. Seeing her so persistent in making her case is concerning, to say the least. 

“Of what happened now” 

“And that’s my fault?” 

“Did you even hear him out?”

Since that fateful day where he had to say goodbye to his dad, he assumed responsibility for a ton of things in his family, so he’s no stranger to what the term means. That being said, not a fraction of him feels he must be held accountable for this. 

“Why am I suddenly the bad guy here?” 

Out of his peripheral vision, he perceives more customers approaching the counter - he isn’t certain whether or not he’s glad of Peem’s intervention. This discussion is withering his resolution. 

“What did I do wrong?” 

“I'm not trying to villainize you” 

Affectionately - something she’s rarely in public - she holds his hands. While he wants to dodge digging deeper into this, her eyes are far too earnest for him to turn his back now. 

“I just want to de-demonize Khaofang” 

The very sound - and yet vexingly childish - objection sits at the top of his tongue. However, he stifles it, expecting she’ll overrule it. 

“You feel betrayed that he didn't tell you when you said you loved him”

“Partly” 

More than that, he feels sad that he didn’t tell him at any time. That concrete night only was the cherry on top. 

“You feel like you don't know which part of his feelings or the relationship was truly real” 

Whereas this evaluation seems to be an invitation to contribute, he chooses not to, just in case any of his fragile admissions will be passed on. 

“That's fair” 

Momentarily, he’s caught off guard by her ability to read minds, pondering if he accidentally said it out loud. 

“Generally”

If he were another sort of older brother, he wouldn’t have enabled her to ramble on. That outrageous susurration within him swears she has a good point. 

“But don't be angry at him for protecting himself” 

She beckons him to offer her some snacks. At first, he doesn’t budge, silently challenging her to finish her lecture. Given that she’s stopped talking altogether, and her demeanor also reverts to normal, he knows that if he doesn’t comply, she won’t give up. And carrying this atmosphere back home is off the table for him. 

So, with an exaggerated sigh, he hands her a bag of chips, observing her munch for a few seconds. Figuring that this could’ve all been a ploy, he’s ready to return to routine, when she hums, her mouth still half full. 

“I’m not saying you can’t be mad”

As opposed to a follow up, she signals him to refill her drink with an innocent smile. Like the amazing bartender he is, he fulfills his client’s wish in a bit of an emotional haze. 

“And I’m not saying he did nothing wrong”

Wiping her fingers carelessly on her shirt - which might be Tan’s, now that he focuses on it - she lifts her drink, as if she’s fixing to toast with him. 

“Or you did anything wrong” 

Over the rim of her glass, she tilts her head and crinkles her eyes. 

“If you want to hate him, hate him for the right reasons” 

Tauntingly, she points her finger at his torso, right where his heart is. 

“Although you can't” 

Ever since they were children, he despised this attitude of hers whenever they argued. The part where both of them are done with being petty and prepared to push it aside. 

Because that’s the part where she smirks like that. 

Like she knows she’s won. 

“Can you?” 

Chapter Text

Chapter 14

The following Monday, he feels hungover for exactly two reasons:

One, he practically begged his boss to take over the Sunday shift too, insisting that his coworker Beer is truly so sick, he can’t come in. 

Two, he spent the whole day before the shift, and the rest of the night after wallowing. There’s no other way to describe it.

Instead of sleeping - and catching up on all the sleep he lost - he finally let it all out and cried. He never cried like this before. Even as a child, he rarely cried, since he didn’t have many reasons to. However, he was so overcome by sheer heartache that he couldn’t stop once he started to. To not alert his sister, he sobbed into his pillow. Not because she wouldn’t comfort him, but precisely because she would. Tan would never want her to think he’s trying to manipulate her opinion on this matter. Actually, unfortunately, he can’t deny that it was her words that triggered the breakdown in the first place. Despite being a cheerful person, afterwards, he absolutely felt cleansed. Like he desperately needed it. 

Once that was done, he endeavoured to get at least one hour of sleep before his alarm blared, informing him that it’s time to face the public again. Fleetingly, he pondered sleeping in and skipping just for one day. But, he can’t find it in himself, partly because of his status as a good student - even if he’s running late more often than not, he always shows up and always participates and always earns praise. Partly because inexplicably, he knows Fang would notice. He doesn’t want Fang to realize how deeply he’s engrained inside of Tan. 

The little voice adds on that nor does he want Fang to worry. 

So he gets dressed, washes his face and puts on his brightest smile. All the way to school, neither Mary nor him make any sort of conversation. Even though he assured her multiple times that he isn’t angry with her at all - and he means it - there’s something about the manner in which she keeps stealing glances at him, like she has to hold back time and time again from bringing it up. His sibling possesses this bizarre habit to turn every single sentence he drops into her favor. Regardless of which subject he could open up with, she’d end up there each time. So he simply won’t. Screw that. He’s been chewed out enough - very unfairly, in his opinion. 

During the whole morning, he shows the best version of himself, diving into his classmate’s and other friend’s problems, volunteering to take over the largest part of their group project in class, and goes so far as to organize drinks for everyone. Because that’s who he is. He isn’t a bad person and he doesn’t need to be labeled as such. 

And his strategy works perfectly fine - until lunchtime. It’s well past the typical rush hour in the cafeteria, and most of the area is unoccupied at this point, so of course, Mary stops in her tracks as soon as she sees it. Tan doesn’t need to ask her what caught her attention. But he can’t give in. To him, the table on the farthest end and its most prominent visitor don't exist anymore. He’s aware he should go, yet his feet are stuck to the ground. 

“Don’t do that”

Initially, he wants to leave it - and her - with that. Seeing as she can’t tear her eyes away, he follows her gaze back. That turns out to be the biggest mistake in a while, since he now can’t look away.

“Huh?”

Due to her uninterested tone, he gathers it must’ve been a subconscious reaction.

“You’re staring”

“You’re staring”

Sighing, he leans against the pillar, letting the cool sensation hopefully get to his core.

“I know what you’re thinking”

From the distance, it’s easy to make out how many papers are scattered on the table, how there’s no signs of lunch or anything edible accompanying it, and how Fang doesn’t raise his head once even when he’s not writing. It makes his chest so tight, one of his hands automatically shoots out to check his heartbeat.  

“And I do feel bad for him”

To mask his pain, he clears his throat and buries one hand in his pocket, while the other adjusts the totebag on his shoulder. 

“You can join him”

Sensing more than watching her glance at him, he nods towards Khaofang, praying his expression is neutral, if not impassive. 

“If you want”

To liberate himself from whatever spell he’s under, he closes his eyes tightly, only opening them once he’s sure Fang won’t appear in his field of vision anymore. 

Out of sight, out of mind, so to speak. 

“I won’t stop you”

She still doesn’t move, and for a moment, he believes she’s really about to do that. Just like he promised her, though, he won’t force her to take sides. He won’t cage her. 

She’s her own person with her own opinion and apparently she knows this whole thing much better than he does. 

In the end, though, she averts herself and bumps his shoulder, already walking again. 

“Let’s go”

While he should feel glad about her support, he copies her more reluctantly than he’ll ever admit. 

The rest of his classes, he recalls that exact moment, cursing himself for how fast his mood plummeted. After this interaction, his unease grows gradually, and he can’t shake the sensation that yesterday’s piece of advice was only a beginning to Mary, and not the closure he wanted it to be. 

That uncomfortable sensation chases him until evening. After hours of being forced to think about that person again when all he wants to do is pretend he can forget him, he’s itching with the craving for complete honesty from his sister. She didn’t even do anything but look. Yet, her passiveness is what triggered him to become actively bothered and tormented by the possibility of being cruel. 

Which he’s not. 

He’s not being cruel when someone he trusted and loves deceived and betrayed him. Obviously, that must mean that said someone didn’t trust and love him as much as Tan. 

But Mary doesn’t seem to think so. Mary doesn’t agree with his perception of Fang being the villain in the story. His younger sister and him have always been in sync in every aspect. Same hobbies, same taste in music, same preference in food - why are they unbalanced in this case? 

To distract himself, he challenges a dinner that’ll take up both nerves and time. However, as much as he concentrates on the instructions, the irritation doesn’t fade. So, after some deliberation, he settles on approaching his crisis upfront. 

As soon as he hears her enter, he goes on with it, depending on their bond to do the rest. 

“What?”

He isn’t planning on revealing the extent of his inner world - which is difficult for someone like him - so he attends to chopping the rest of the garlic with extreme care. 

“And don’t say nothing”

Adding the minced vegetable, he basically tosses the cutting board aside, dedicating himself to mix the ingredients. 

“You think I’m wrong”

Everything he’s doing - the borderline aggressive stirring, the guarded posture, the refusal to solely mention his name - gives him away by now. 

However, Tan also has his justification to keep his hostility up. It’s too early to forgive when he knows every time he’d look at that person, he’d constantly be hit with those memories. 

“You think I’m being mean. I’m not”

At this stage, it comes across as redundant - therefore even unreasonable. To not grant her any ammunition to call him out for it, he acts unyielding. 

“I know what’s going through your head”

He turns down the heat and waits a moment before covering the dish with a lid. 

“‘This isn’t like you’”

“I don’t sound like that”

His head immediately turns towards her. 

“Mary”

“Oh my god”

Rolling her eyes, she pulls out a container of Mango Juice out of the refrigerator. 

“It doesn’t matter what I think”

“Okay so you do think that”

Subsequent to making sure the pot is simmering correctly, he folds his arms and fixates her. 

“Nice”

“Fine”

She grabs a glass and sets in on the counter noisily. 

“You want to have my opinion so badly?”

Judging by her frustrated glare, he’s abruptly rather apprehensive about this. To not lose face, though, he quirks a brow. 

“If you ask me what I want, then of course I want you to be together”

Instead of opening the bottle, she moves it in circles to entertain herself. 

“I think you helped each other”

Pausing suddenly, she clasps her hands together and rests her chin on them with a wistful expression. 

“I think you were both happy”

The whole kitchen goes still for almost a minute before Mary regains her train of thoughts. 

“If you ask me what I want for you, then I want the best for you”

Then she finally pours her drink, not bothering to follow up with anything. He observes her for a few intense seconds. Her reply comes in the form of a sigh, despite an audible waver in it. 

“That’s all”

Upon detecting that he isn’t satisfied yet, his sister presses her lips into a thin line. 

“I want you to make the right decision for you” 

She shakes her head in faux disappointment. 

“And I can’t do that for you”

“So-”

“Also”

With a scoff, she slaps his chest. 

“I’m the resentful one”

Inappropriately so, she starts smiling at him. Just like Tan has been described, though, for Tan himself, his sister’s smile is contagious. 

“You could never” 

It doesn’t take long for both of them to fully crack up irrationally, Tan being pacified by that interval of levity. 

“You’re really bad at it” 

She looks at him similarly to that morning two days ago. Like she’s ruminating whether adding something or exiting is the better option. Seconds pass in which she just opens and closes her mouth until she visibly releases the tension radiating from her.

“Trust can be rebuilt, communication can be learned”

He receives a scrunch of her nose as a nonverbal apology for her next action. 

“Love?”

Mary nods towards the stove with their dinner. Briefly, he’s confused about what this has to do with his issue, until he turns off the heat to finally plate their dish. 

Tom Yum soup.

Khaofang’s favorite. 

“The love between you will never disappear”

Reaching out to quickly squeeze his hand, she smiles at him without any signs of humor, only uncharacteristic softness.

“Maybe that’s worth holding on to”

There’s probably a dozen things he could answer with, counter with, protest with - above all that this is more and more feeling like emotional blackmail and why should he be the one to crawl back after everything he went through - but all that he does is tear up, the pit inside him more palpable with each minute he permits himself to think about it. 

“I’ll wait in the living room”