Archive of Our Own ^beta

Cher cousin Dech,

Life in Paris continues to be somewhat of a dream. P’Thee is adapting quite well; his French gets better every day, and people here are less inclined to judge and look at us while we walk on the streets holding hands, and occasionally even share a chaste kiss on the cheek.

Our life as a couple has truly flourished. P’Thee tells me he loves me every day, he pampers me in a way I have never experienced before… I feel shy just thinking about it.

He brings me breakfast in bed every day, cooks for me, feeds me… I find little gifts every day — it’s almost overwhelming. I keep thinking he will get tired of this, that it will stop, yet it never does. I guess true love makes you want to cherish the other person all the time? I also feel like I want to take care of him forever.

Is it the same for you? Am I being too forward, Cher Dech? I know I can share this with you, because you are the only person in my life that understands. Right, Cher cousin?

How are things between you and Mek? I sincerely hope you are as happy as I am right now. Everyone deserves to feel this kind of happiness.

Looking forward to your letters. I can’t wait to hear the latest news about your life!

I miss you, Mek, and the beautiful Siam.

Love,

Your Cousin Rati.

Dech sighed, looking out the window for a moment. He was glad to hear from Rati, and of course he was incredibly happy to know his cousin felt comfortable enough to share so much with him. Still, he couldn’t help the feeling settling at the pit of his stomach the inked words sparked in him.

It wasn’t Rati’s fault.

If there was something that Dech had learned in almost six years of being a translator for L’Echo de L’Assomption, it was that Siam wasn’t France.

And Mek was not Thee. Not that Dech wanted Mek to be anybody else but Mek. Absolutely not.

He loved Mek for who he was, but the situation between them was becoming a little bit… stale? Just like the smell of cloves.

Dech was always the one offering verbal confines for their relationship.

“You are mine.”

“I adore you.”

“I love you.”

And it wasn’t like Mek hadn’t said anything back at all. No, it wasn’t like that… he had said things, sweet things even, that had made Dech’s heart flutter. Like every time he called him ‘angel’ — that was Dech's favorite thing in the whole universe. He just hadn’t said the words “I love you” out loud yet.

Mek wasn’t really the type to do very extroverted displays of affection or pampering, like Kuhn Thee was. But that was fine, Dech could live with that. Even if he could not deny how much he would have loved a spontaneous surprise every once in a while.

What was truly tearing him apart was that they hadn’t defined what they were. Dech had been patient about it, but five years and change was a very long time, right? Now, he was starting to feel the need to have a shape, a definition. To know where he stood in Mek’s heart. In Mek’s life. What were they? What did Mek feel for him exactly? Dech knew what he felt, and he knew what he wanted.

He wanted to be Mek’s betrothed. He wanted to be Mek’s beloved, he wanted to be Mek’s husband… even if it was only a whispered promise between them in the heart of the night, with flickering candle lights and the river as their witnesses.

Was that childish? Was he being unreasonable? Should he be content with what he and Mek had, without craving for more?

What’s a definition after all? Just a word. Meaningless. Except…

He looked at the letter again, a bitter chuckle escaping his lips. Who was he kidding?

Stranger, opponent, master, servant, friend…

Their whole lives had been defined by labels. Was that why Mek was so reluctant to give their relationship one?

The feeling in his stomach suddenly expanded. Dech let the letter slip out of his hand and onto his desk, a wave of sadness washing over him. He did not want to force Mek into anything, he loved him too much to ever do such a thing.

If Mech wasn’t ready to put a label on what they had, then Dech guessed they wouldn’t. No matter how painful it was for him. It was better to live with Mek without a definition than risk him running away from what they had because Dech had pushed for something Mek wasn’t ready for.

Dech opened the desk drawer and picked out a sheet of paper, and his pen and ink pot. He pursed his lips and started to write.

Cher cousin Rati,

I am really glad to hear your life in France is going well… and that the relationship between you and Count Thee is flourishing! Love is indeed a wonderful thing.

I am also honoured that you think of me as a confidant for such things.

You have asked me how things are between me and Ai’Mek. That is… a silly question, there is nothing between me and Monsieur Mek. We are good friends, the relationship between us is nothing like

Dech stopped writing. The words were a lie, and very petty. Dech didn’t mean a single word, and he knew it.

He looked at the page, his slightly curvy handwriting still wet and shiny on the paper.

In a sudden motion, he crumpled it and threw it on the floor. He picked another sheet and, taking a deep breath, started to write again. This time, he tried from his heart.

Cher Rati,

You write so beautifully about your wonderful life, and about you and Count Thee… How did you do it? How did you make him fall in love with you so completely? Why can’t I do it with Mek?

How do I achieve the same thing you have?

I love him so much, but he won’t say it back to me… I can’t stand this. Not knowing what we are anymore… I want to hear him say he loves me… I want to be called his beloved, his betrothed… his one and only… his forever… I feel

Dech only realized he had started crying when he saw a drop had fallen and smudged the ink. He touched his cheek and shook his head.

“Stop it, Dech,” he murmured quietly, crumpling the second sheet of paper and dropping it next to the first one on the floor. He looked at the discarded letters, and perhaps it was the self-pity, but he imagined his own feelings joining them. Crumpled up, unsaid, unrequited. Unfortunately, the dam had opened and he found himself sobbing quietly.

A soft knock on his door made him startle.

“Young Master Dech?” Mother Buaphan called from outside. “Kuhn Mek has returned. Dinner is served in the living room,” she said through the door. Her voice sounded gentle, like somehow she knew just how dejected Dech was feeling in that moment.

Dech cleared his throat and closed his eyes for a moment, breathing through his nose in an attempt to calm himself. He swiped his palms across his cheeks to dry them and took a deep breath before answering.

“Thank you, Mother Buaphan. I’ll… I’ll be down in a minute.”

When he entered the dining room, Dech found Mek quietly chatting with his grandfather at the dinner table. They were waiting for him to start eating, and the kind gesture twisted Dech’s already bruised heart.

Dech remained for a moment on the threshold of the room, observing Mek — his beautiful face looked more tired than usual. Dech knew why; there was more work lately at the ministry for Mek’s team of translators. Some idiot intern from Lyon had mistranslated the words of His Majesty on the radio during the French Catholic Christmas celebration and almost caused a diplomatic incident. Both Rati and Mek had told him all about it. Almost three weeks had passed and the issue had yet to be resolved, the tension between Paris, Siam, and Lyon still electric and on the verge of fraying.

Mek was still working late into the evening translating letters and official deliveries — he was the best in the office at expressing the perfect nuance. Dech was so proud of him.

His poor love was so stressed, though; he felt all the responsibility of his job.

Mek wanted to do well, be successful and, most importantly, he had truly started to care about his translator’s work — about the meaningfulness behind it. If the situation with Lyon was to deteriorate more, Dech knew that Mek would feel enormous responsibility for it, even if he was just a translator and not directly responsible for the incident.

So, even if Dech wanted to talk to Mek about their situation, it was decidedly not the right time to do it. He could not do that to Mek. Not right now.

Dech bit his lip and took another deep breath. He could do it. He could push all of this down and deal with it later.

“Sorry for making you wait,” he said quietly, wai’ing apologetically as he entered the room. “I was replying to a letter from Cousin Rati and I lost track of time,” he explained before sitting down.

His grandfather waved at him with a smile, not seeming to mind his tardiness. Mek, though, looked at him, and Dech saw it in his eyes — Mek had immediately noticed something wasn’t right.

Dech ignored his worried look and focused on his grandfather while he served portions to the both of them.

“Don’t worry, Son. How is Rati? Has he sent good news?”

“Yes, he says Khun Chai Thee is adjusting very well to life in France, and that his French is improving. He’s also apparently well liked by the French diplomats, so things seem to be going in the right direction for them both. They seem quite happy.” Dech did his best to sound like his normal self, but his throat felt tight, his mouth dry.

Mek kept looking at him, studying him. He knew. He knew something was wrong.

His grandfather was still talking about Rati, but Dech wasn’t listening anymore. He lowered his eyes and focused on his food. He ate as much as he could, slowly working around the tightness still constricting his throat.

He did his best, with the dinner and the small talk, until he just couldn’t take it anymore and with a tense smile and another wai, he excused himself from the table.

He saw Mek blink in confusion and felt his eyes follow him the whole way out of the dining room. Dech hoped that his grandfather would distract Mek for a couple of minutes more. He needed some time to think.

To think of something.

Something plausible.

Something believable.

Something that wouldn’t make Mek feel bad for—

“Ai’Dech?”

Mek's voice reached him immediately in the hall where Dech had found temporary refuge behind the stairs. So much for that plan.

“What's going on?” Mek asked, leaning his head to the right in that adorable way of his, searching Dech’s eyes.

“Nothing’s going on, I just… don’t feel hungry anymore,” Dech replied, hoping it was a good enough excuse.

Mek raised an eyebrow, looked around, and gently grabbed Dech’s wrist, dragging him outside the palace and into the gardens, all the way behind the servant’s quarter to a quieter, darker spot.

“Ai’Dech,” he said slowly, stepping closer to him. His voice was dragging a little bit and his eyes looked tired even in the dark. “Please tell me what’s going on, I can tell there’s something bothering you.”

Dech bit his lip. He never wanted to lie to Mek, but he also didn’t want to burden him with something that had no resolution and could possibly ruin what they had. Mek looked so drawn and pale already, so stressed out. The faint light of the waxing moon was casting an even deeper pallor on his skin.

No, you have so much already weighing on you, I can’t add up to all of this with my silly whims, even if it’s crushing me. It doesn’t matter. Dech felt the sudden urge to cry.

He didn’t care about how much these feelings were hurting and haunting him, he couldn’t share them with Mek. Not now. Even if it meant lying to him; what was a lie as small as this in the grand scheme of their lives together? Especially if it meant protecting Mek and their relationship. In whatever form it took.

Dech breathed slowly to gather some courage, hoping to sound convincing. “It’s nothing, Ai’Mek. I promise,” he whispered, because maybe if he said the words without his full voice the lie wouldn’t feel as bad. “I just… translated some pages today and they weren’t good enough, so I’m feeling a little sad about it. Khun Suwanacheep didn’t like them. He was… quite harsh.” Dech stopped there, and hoped Mek wouldn’t ask for more details.

Mek frowned. “What? He didn’t like your work? That’s ridiculous, you’re their best translator! That’s nonsense!”

Dech shrugged. “I guess I wasn’t at my best today… I…” Dech paused, “I will do better tomorrow.” He nodded, hoping he was conveying the appropriate amount of sincerity.

Mek smiled and raised a hand to caress Dech’s cheek. “You are so talented, angel,” he said. “Don’t ever forget that.”

Dech felt his heart break a little and his eyes betrayed him again. Before he could manage to control them, tears began flowing again. He was a terrible person, not only was he lying to the most important person in his life, but it was the most ironic situation ever known to man.

Mek had no problem saying such sweet things — complimenting him, supporting him, cheering him up. And yet he never said the words Dech craved the most. Why? Was there something wrong with Dech? Was he not… good enough? Was he not lovable enough? What was stopping Mek?

Before he knew it, Dech was sobbing. Feeling hurt and ashamed, he hid his face behind his hands.

Mek didn’t say anything, just pulled him in for a hug. Dech found himself surrounded by his warmth, and completely broke down in his arms. Dech wanted to hold on to Mek for dear life and never let go again. He also wanted to shake him and scream why won’t you say you love me? but everything had to stay locked in his chest.

Mek caressed his shoulder. “Shh, you’ll be fine, angel,” he told him. “I’m here with you.”

That was too much. He couldn’t do this anymore. He couldn’t.

Dech pulled away, shaking his head. “I…” He looked everywhere but Mek’s eyes. “I’ll go rest… Please excuse me.” He fumbled and took a step back, trying hard to not run away to his room.

xxx

Mek’s eyes widened the second Dech pulled away from the hug and walked away. How harsh had his boss been for Dech to be so devastated that he refused cuddles? He scratched his head, gave Dech a couple more minutes — then followed him.

He found the door to Dech’s room closed, and softly knocked. When there was no reply, he tried again, a little bit louder.

“Ai’Dech?” he called.

Still no reply.

Mek checked over his shoulder, making sure no one was around before quietly turning the handle and pushing the door open.

The room was dark, save for the slice of light coming in from the corridor where Mek stood. It was just enough for him to distinguish Dech’s shape under the covers. He slipped inside and walked closer.

“Are you in bed already?” Mek asked, surprised and a little bit deflated. “I wanted to talk. Are you truly asleep? Dech?”

When there was still no response and no movement from Dech, Mek sighed, resigned. He’d try again in the morning. He turned once more, to check that nobody was in the corridor and moved to the bed.

"Goodnight, angel. I’ll see you tomorrow,” he whispered, leaning down and pressing a kiss on the top of Dech’s head before walking out and closing the door behind him.

xxx

Once alone. Dech stood up, heart beating wildly in his chest, tears flowing freely again.

Mek knocked at Dech’s door bright and early the next day, hoping to have the chance to finally talk to him alone. He hadn’t had the chance the evening before — Dech had fallen immediately asleep. Which had been weird, but understandable. He’d had a long day, and getting chastised at work couldn’t have helped matters.

Unfortunately, Mother Buaphan was hot on his heels with Keel, and both his and Dech’s breakfast trays.

“Will you have breakfast in Master Dech’s room?” she asked Mek, looking puzzled at finding him in front of Dech’s door.

Mek nodded. “Yes, he fell asleep quite early last night and with very little food from dinner. I assumed he might be quite hungry,” he told her with a tight smile. He was trying to be polite, but what he really wanted was some time alone with Dech. Maybe they’d be left alone while eating breakfast.

The door opened after a moment and Dech came out, already dressed for work, and once again Mek immediately noticed something wrong with him.

He didn’t seem overly surprised to see an audience outside his room — maybe he had heard them talking. “Thank you, Mother Buaphan, but I’m not hungry this morning. I will go to work directly,” he said, wai’ing to her before closing the door behind him. “I’d be grateful if you could also leave my room as it is today. Don’t let anybody in — I’ll tend to it myself later tonight.”

Buaphan frowned but nodded.

Dech looked at Mek with a tired smile. “I’ll see you later tonight, Ai’Mek,” he said before walking quickly past him down the hall.

“Dech wait… what?” Mek watched him leave, Dech’s shoulders were up around his ears and his fists were clenched as he disappeared around the corner. Mek stared at where Dech’s retreating form had been, then looked back at Dech’s room. In a moment of impulse, he opened the door and looked inside.

Nothing seemed amiss — Dech had even made the bed. There were some crumpled sheets of paper on the floor, but other than that, everything looked tidy and in good order.

“Khun Mek?” Mother Buaphan called, getting his attention. “You heard what Master Dech said…” She reminded him gently, putting a hand on his and guiding him to close the door.

“I don’t understand,” Mek said slowly. “I get that he’s sad because he got a bad review at work, but what do I have got to do with it? Why is he treating me like this?” It had only been two days, but Dech’s behaviour was getting to him.

It wasn’t quite silent treatment, but it was close. Dech wouldn’t look at him, barely spoke to him… They always walked to town together after breakfast, but Dech had just left, leaving no room for Mek to join him.

Buaphan smiled. “I have never seen Master Dech truly cross with you,” she told him. “I’m sure he was just eager to go back to work to fix whatever was wrong.”

Mek frowned. “Maybe,” he mumbled. “I should go as well…”

Buaphan looked at Keel, who was still holding the trays laden with breakfast. “You’re not having breakfast, either?” she asked.

Mek’s stomach suddenly growled and he giggled, embarrassed.

“Uhm, actually. I think I will eat something before leaving. Thank you, Mother Buaphan.”

Dech stopped in the middle of the walkway leading to the entrance of the Ministry building. He glanced to his right, to the bench where he would usually sit and wait every day after work. Sometimes he read, sometimes he translated work notes for the following day while he waited for Mek's work day to end.

He didn't mind the wait; it was their routine. Dech's working hours ended a little bit earlier than Mek's — the privileges of working for the private sector. Today though, Dech had a little folded piece of paper in his hands, and no intention of turning right to the little garden bench.

With his heart beating wildly in his chest, he resumed walking, reaching the steps to the entrance of the palace and stopping at the front gate.

“Could you please deliver this note to Kuhn Mek of the Ministry of Foreign affairs?” he asked one of the entrance guards.

The man nodded and gave the note to a palace boy, who immediately ran inside to deliver it.

Dech smiled, wai’d to the guard, and left. He was not going to wait for Mek today. He had other plans, but he didn’t want him to come out and find nobody. A note was the best solution; he could be left alone, and both Mek and his grandfather wouldn’t worry about him.

Dech glanced at the Ministry palace, wondering briefly if Mek had received his note yet, before walking away.

xxx

“Monsieur Mek?” The call came from one of the palace boys Mek was familiar with.

Mek raised his eyes, bristling at the title. “Khun Mek, Khun…” he said with a smile. “I am not French, Wan, I’ve told you already.”

Wan, face red from the effort of running up to Mek’s office, scrunched his nose. “But Monsieur Mek sounds so nice!”

“Please,” Mek said, ruffling his hair, “call me Khun, okay? Or even better, how about Phi?” he winked at the boy.

“Phi?” the boy asked, surprised.

Mek nodded with a smile. “Of course!”

Wan seemed to think about it, looking around to see if there was anyone around who might get mad at him for not calling Mek by the right title.

Mek giggled. “It’s okay, I don’t think the others will mind what you call me. And if they do, you can tell them I gave you permission to call me that.”

Wan smiled, satisfied, and took a piece of folded paper out of his pocket. “Phi,” he started with a smile, “this was delivered for you by a man outside.”

Mek frowned. “A man?” he asked, taking the note from the boy. “Did you see what he looked like?”

Wan nodded. “Tall, handsome,” he said. “He looked sad.”

Dech.

Mek opened the note — Dech’s round calligraphy was unmistakable.

Mek,

I am not coming home for dinner. I will be back later tonight.

Don’t wait for me, I will see you tomorrow.

Please tell grandfather, and get some rest.

Dech.

Mek felt his stomach drop. What was this? Dech was definitely avoiding him. It couldn’t be because of work, he knew Dech. Whenever anything went wrong at work, he always wanted to talk it out. It helped him sort out the issue, and he always slept better after letting his thoughts out. Unless it was something much bigger than Dech had let on the day before. Had his boss fired him? No, why would they fire Dech? He was their best translator. Mek crumpled the note. That was enough.

“P’Mek? Is everything alright?” Wan asked.

Mek looked at the boy and pursed his lips. “Would you do an errand for me?”

Wan smiled and nodded. “Of course! It’s my job, P’Mek!” In that moment, Wan reminded Mek so much of himself, when he was younger and eager for any job he could get.

Mek smiled and grabbed a fresh piece of paper.

Dech had been sitting under the tree for hours now. It was almost twilight, and the setting sun was coloring the river water with golden hues. It was stunning.

Part of him wanted to share it with Mek.

He knew hiding from the problem was never going to solve it, but he needed time to sort it out for himself. To make peace with the fact that he loved Mek and that meant having to wait. Dech couldn’t push him. And he could only do that if he was by himself.

He sighed and leaned against the trunk, the bark scratching his scalp.

He knew Mek loved him. He did, he just had reservations about saying it out loud, and that…

“That should not be a problem, Dech. You need to be patient,” he murmured, observing the river.

He closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. The sun had completely set, cloaking the world in shadow.

He lit the lantern he brought with him and slowly got up, starting the walk home. It was going to take a long time anyway, and he needed the walk to clear his head.

xxx

After bidding grandfather goodnight, and feeling very guilty for the lie Dech had forced him to tell, Mek walked up the stairs to Dech’s room.

It didn’t matter how long Mek had to wait for Dech to come home, he was going to make sure they spoke tonight.

Wan had gone to L’Echo de l’Assomption. He had delivered Mek’s note and got a note back, just as Mek asked him to. Dech’s position was absolutely fine; he hadn’t even been scolded like he had said the evening before. Something else was troubling him, and Mek was officially very worried. And if he was being honest, a bit annoyed about the lies. It wasn’t like Dech to keep things from him, and Mek didn’t like that he had started.

Mek looked around to make sure nobody was lingering in the hallway before quietly slipping into Dech’s room. He closed the door behind him, the room pitch-black. He traced a path from memory to Dech’s bedside table to turn on the lamp, hoping the soft light would expose whatever it was Dech was hiding from him.

Everything looked exactly like Dech had left it that morning. Rati’s letter was still on the desk from the day before. Maybe something in it would help Mek figure out what was wrong…

Mek waffled for a moment, at war with himself. He didn’t want to invade Dech’s privacy — or Rati’s, for that matter — but he desperately needed to understand what was going on with Dech. If looking at Dech’s private correspondence let Mek help him, surely that balanced out the invasion of privacy, right?

Decision made, Mek moved to the desk, kicking a crumpled piece of paper on the way. Curious, he leaned down and picked it up. There was writing on it, writing that looked a lot like Dech’s. Mech hesitated for only a moment before smoothing out the paper, Dech’s looping handwriting staring up at him.

Cher Rati,

You write so beautifully about your wonderful life, and about you and Count Thee… How did you do it? How did you make him fall in love with you so completely? Why can’t I do it with Mek?

How do I achieve the same thing you have??

I love him so much, but he won’t say it back to me… I can’t stand this. Not knowing what we are anymore… I want to hear him say he loves me… I want to be called his beloved, his betrothed… his one and only… his forever… I feel

Mek felt like the floor gave way beneath him. His blood ran cold as he scanned the piece of paper again, wanting the words to morph into something else, something happier. On his second read-through, Mek noticed the tear stains. Dech had cried as he wrote this letter, as he poured his feelings out. Mek had caused those tears.

What had he done? How had he managed to hurt the person he cherished the most in his life?

Why can’t I do it with Mek? Those words Dech had written were like knives to Mek’s heart. Did Dech truly think he didn’t love him? Sure, he hadn’t said the words but… Dech had to know what was in his heart, right? How much he felt for him, how much he cared for him?

Not knowing what we are anymore. It had been too long. Almost six years of not speaking his feelings, of not saying out loud that he loved Dech. Not as a friend, not as a student, not as a brother. But as a man who truly loves another. Keeping his sweet, kind, caring angel in a limbo of uncertainty while day after day Dech kept imprinting those words on Mek’s skin, between caresses and kisses.

How awful have I been?

Mek felt tears sting his eyes. He had to do something. He had to fix it, he couldn’t let Dech believe those words for a second longer… he couldn’t.

He turned and rushed to the door. He would find Dech and tell him just how much he loved him. He would do so immediately and—

Mek stopped dead in his tracks, his hand on the door handle. No, no… he had to do something better. He had to do something worthy of Dech, something that would make him feel absolutely special. Something that would make Dech understand just how much Mek loved him, how much Mek cherished and adored him.

His mind went back to the two of them at his house on his mother’s land months prior.

“I just want to be pampered.”

“You want to be pampered?”

“Mhm.”

“How so?”

Dech’s reaction at his answer, the adorable pout, his little frustrated sigh and the way he had moved Mek out of the way. His body language had said it doesn’t matter, nevermind… let it go. Because if Dech had to ask and explain, then it lost all meaning. And he was used to receiving so little that even on that occasion a simple kiss had seemed like such a big deal.

Mek remembered his reaction — it was burned into his brain, how his eyes had darkened, how passionately he had kissed him back.

How much he had wanted Mek afterwards. The little ‘I love yous’ he had whispered when Mek had been inside him, lost in the throes of passion. Words he hadn’t reciprocated.

Mek bit his lip. How long had it been since they last kissed? He felt another hole in his soul.

His work had taken over and they had been staying at Dech’s grandfather’s palace for weeks. It was more convenient with the amount of work he had to do at the Ministry lately. They never held hands in the palace, let alone slept together — they couldn’t. There were too many servants around, and even if Mother Buaphan was accepting of Rati and Thee, and grandfather was a good man, it was best not to risk it.

When they were at Mek’s house on his land, they were free, and they made the most of it. Kissing, holding hands, making love, and sleeping next to each other. Dech would cuddle him every night. It dawned on Mek that Dech must have been feeling so lonely all these weeks. All the while Mek was completely clueless, oblivious to Dech’s feelings.

I have to do something.

Mek quietly opened the door and slipped outside, a plan already forming in his mind.

xxx

The lack of reaction his note had received from Mek made Dech even more crestfallen.

Part of him was hoping to find Mek in his room when he got back home, no matter the hour, and when he found his room empty instead, his heart had almost given in.

Had he ruined everything? Was Mek tired of him now? Was he going to leave him forever because Dech had acted like a child, avoiding him instead of talking things through?

He dragged himself to bed. Maybe Mek was just doing what he asked, and giving him space. After all, he was the one who had instructed Mek to do just that. “Don’t wait for me, I will see you tomorrow. Get some rest.”

He could not take back his own words now. Still, the empty room was taunting him, echoes of his own insecurity singing in the silence: he does not love you.

Dech burrowed himself into the blankets and cried. By the time he was done, a decision had been made. He was going to talk to Mek tomorrow and beg him not to leave him.

Mother Buaphan stopped in her tracks as Dech emerged from his room. “Master Dech?” she asked, looking concerned.

He knew he looked terrible — he had glanced in the mirror on his way out, had seen that his skin was pale and clammy, made worse by the two deep, dark circles under his eyes. Still, that was no reason for Buaphan to be looking at him like he was a ghost.

Wide-eyed, Mother Buaphan put the rag she was holding down and rushed to his side. “Master Dech, are you alright?” She moved him back to his room with a gentle hand on his back.

“I’m fine, Mother Buaphan… I have to go to work,” Dech protested weakly. “I’m just tired because I didn’t sleep much, but I’m fine… I promise.”

Buaphan shook her head. “I will not keep you from work, but you need to fix yourself if you don’t want to scare your colleagues. They’ll think you’re a spirit,” she said, moving him to the chair at his dressing table. “Take off your shirt,” she instructed with her best mom voice before going back to the corridor. “Keel!” she yelled down the stairs. “Bring a basin of hot water, soap, and my toiletry sack to Master Dech’s room!”

Dech rolled his eyes and huffed while taking off his shirt. Now Mek was surely going to rush into his room as well and make a fuss, and with Mother Buaphan in the room, there was no way Dech could possibly talk to him.

“There’s no need for all this ruckus, you’ll be bothering both grandfather and Khun Mek,” Dech protested when Mother Buaphan returned.

She looked at him, raising an eyebrow. “His Majesty is having breakfast in the gardens,” she told him, “and Khun Mek left the palace way before dawn.” A knowing look passed over her features.

Dech felt the void inside him grow, threatening to swallow him whole. “W-what?” he stammered, voice feeble. “He left in the night?” Panic roared within him, urgent, imminent. He had to find him. He had to find Mek immediately and talk to him.

“I can’t—I need to—” Dech struggled to draw in a breath. He got up — still half-naked — and stumbled towards the door.

Before he could reach it, Mother Buaphan was in front of him, pushing him back on the chair.

“He told me he had some errands to run for his mother’s land,” she said, though the words were quiet under the rushing in Dech’s ears. “He said he’d be back in the afternoon to pick you up.”

“P-pick me up?” Dech asked her. “What?” He blinked, confused.

Keel entered the room, and left the basin and the sack on the toilette table. She silently moved to the cabinet, retrieving fresh towels and handing them to Mother Buaphan.

Dech watched them move around him, waiting for Mother Buaphan to explain, but she waited until the younger servant left the room before speaking again.

Buaphan smiled, dipping one of the towels in the warm water. “You don’t know? I thought you arranged this together last night.” She began wiping the night’s anxiety and sleeplessness from Dech’s body, his muscles relaxing immediately, even if his mind was still reeling.

He shook his head slowly, the warmth of the towel forcibly fogging his already tired brain. “Please, Mother Buaphan, tell me. What do you know?”

“Nothing more than this: he told me he had a lot of errands to run, and that he’d be back in the afternoon to pick you up. That you’d be spending the night there. Which is good, you need to talk, don’t you?” She raised her eyebrows knowingly, wiping the back of Dech’s neck.

She was right, of course — they did need to talk.

Mother Buaphan wet the towel again, ringing out the excess water. “Close your eyes, Na Noi Dech.” Her voice was lower, softer, as she began to clean his face.

Dech let go and leaned into her, relaxing slightly. Mek was coming to get him. He was coming to get him, and there was still hope Dech could fix things with him. He could convince him not to leave.

“I don’t know what happened between you two,” Mother Buaphan said, breaking the silence, “but your love is strong and I’m sure you will solve it. And when you do,” she paused and waited for Dech to open his eyes and look at her, “when you’re here at the palace keep in mind — there are no servants in the corridors upstairs between dinner and breakfast.”

Dech blinked a couple of times, trying to process what he heard.

“I’m sorry?”

Mother Buaphan smiled again, moving to run the towel along his arms and torso. “Na Noi Dech,” she said simply, “don’t ever forget who my son is. I have grown somewhat keen on secret love. I implemented the ‘no servant upstairs’ rule months ago, thinking you boys would notice. I take it you did not?”

Dech shook his head, completely lost, and Buaphan laughed lightly, grabbing another towel to start drying him.

“You and Kuhn Mek always come back from his mother’s land as happy as you can be, but the more time you spend here, the more nervous and on edge the both of you become around each other. The longing stares could cut a roast duck.” She sighed and shook her head. “What am I going to do with the pair of you? You truly were made for each other.”

Dech was speechless — had they really been so easy to read? Mother Buaphan’s smile turned teasing as she opened her sack and took out a lotion and some powders.

“Let me fix your face a little bit. There’s no time for more sleep, even if you need it right now,” she scolded him.

Dech smiled sheepishly and let her work on him, starting with the lotion.

“There is nothing wrong in wanting to be together,” Buaphan continued, “especially in the first years of a relationship. You could have told me and I would have helped immediately.”

There was something about her voice — Buaphan was stern and she was scolding him, but Dech felt an incredible warmth. It had been such a long time since someone had acted that way towards him.

“Mother Buaphan,” he interjected, hating how small his voice sounded, “I… I actually don’t know if we are in a relationship.” Saying it out loud felt like a weight had lifted from his chest.

Buaphan looked at him, an incredulous expression painted on her features as her powder stilled midair. “What do you mean, child?” she asked, her tone immediately motherly. It made Dech smile and want to cry at the same time, but she had resumed powdering his face and he did not want to ruin her work, so he tried to be brave.

“We have never… defined what we are.” His heart started pounding, incredulous that he would share this with another human being. “I’ve told him so many times that I love him, but he’s never once said it back.”

“Hmm.” Mother Buaphan stopped patting the powder on his skin and gently moved his head so she could look him in the eyes. “Is this why you’ve been so sad? After Joi’s letter?”

Dech nodded. He knew Rati had written to his mother as well, and Buaphan was incredibly perceptive — there was no point in trying to hide this from her anymore.

She sighed, and resumed her gentle patting, the motion oddly soothing. “My sweet child, most men are like this.” She said it so plainly, like it was a universally known fact. Which, Dech was realizing, it probably was. “If you want to love one, you have to deal with them being clueless most of the time. He does love you, of that I am sure, and I think you are too.”

Dech didn’t answer, just squirmed under Buaphan’s gaze.

She finished with the powders and grabbed his brush to style his hair. “I am not saying what you need is wrong, Master Dech,” she continued, brushing his hair. Dech immediately disliked the change from “sweet child” to “Master,” definitely preferring the former. “But how will Khun Mek know what’s wrong if you don’t talk to him about it?”

“I wanted to talk about it,” Dech said slowly, “but he’s been so stressed about work at the Ministry, I wanted to wait.” He sighed and didn’t even notice that Mother Buaphan had finished with his hair until he heard the soft clang of the brush hitting the dressing table.

They remained silent, and Dech watched her while she went to his wardrobe to get a fresh shirt, a vest, and matching pants.

“Get changed,” she told him, coming close and taking his face in her hands with that gentle smile back on her face. “And remember, my boy — work is not the most important thing in Khun Mek’s life — or your grandfather’s, for that matter. You are the most important thing. There was never any reason to wait. Talk to him tonight. Tell him, na?”

Dech nodded. A sudden knot in his throat made it hard to say anything else. He took a breath, remembering that he did not want to waste Mother Buaphan’s loving efforts to make him look presentable.

“Can… can I hug you?” he asked in a whisper.

Mother Buaphan pulled him in for a hug, and for the first time in three days, Dech felt serene again.

Walking to L’Echo de l’Assomption, Dech was sure he was going to experience the longest day ever. He hadn’t even started work and already he couldn’t wait to get out to see Mek, to finally talk to him.

He was lost in his thoughts about how to approach the matter when his name was called.

“Khun Dech?” A young boy skipped towards him, flashing a toothy smile that spelled nothing but trouble.

“How do you know my name?” Dech asked curiously, raising an eyebrow and leaning down to look the boy in the eyes.

The boy’s smile grew bigger, and in a mischievous move, his hand flew in front of Dech’s face to count on his fingers. “You came to where I work yesterday to leave a message for my Phi—” he uncurled his index finger, then raised his middle finger as he continued “—and Phi asked me to deliver something to you today.”

“Your Phi?” The only person Dech had sent a note to was—

“Khun Mek!”

Dech looked at the boy more closely. He was wearing a little messenger bag and looked so eager to complete whatever mission he had been given — he was positively adorable. Dech would have believed that he and Mek were actual brothers, if he hadn’t known better. The eagerness and outright cheek were too similar — it was uncanny.

“Khun Mek is your Phi?” Dech asked with a smile. “What’s your name?”

“Wan. I work as an errand boy at the Ministry Palace, and Khun Mek said it was okay to call him that.”

Dech smiled. Every time he thought he couldn’t be more fond of Mek, the man managed to find new ways to endear himself to Dech even more.

“Well, Ai’Mek is a very dear friend of mine. Could I be your Phi as well?”

Wan smirked, looking at Dech like he already knew a secret, before nodding. “Sure!” he allowed. “Can I give you your things so I can go back to work, P’Dech? I don’t want to be late, I have lots of things to do today.”

“Of course, I don’t want you to get scolded! What do you need to give me?”

Wan became immediately serious and straightened up. He reached behind his back and pulled out a tiny bouquet of purple globe amaranths and cosmos, neatly tied with twine.

“Oh?” Dech blinked at the wild flowers, taken aback by their sudden appearance, but Wan pushed them unceremoniously into his hands.

“These are for you, P’Dech!” he said, sounding amused. “P’Mek picked them personally this morning.”

“He… did?” Dech choked a little on the question, his eyes moving from the flowers to Wan, incredulous.

“Uh-huh! I was there as well!” Wan sounded so proud, he managed to steal a wet chuckle from Dech’s emotional turmoil.

“Thank you, Nong Wan,” Dech whispered. “Could you thank P’Mek for me, and tell him I can’t wait to see him this afternoon?” he asked quietly, like the request was something to be kept secret. Which, he supposed, it kind of was.

Wan shook his head. “I’m not done yet,” he said conspiratorially, and took a step back from Dech before starting to solemnly rummage in his messenger bag.

“Not done yet?” Dech repeated, surprised.

Wan took out two bamboo leaf parcels: a mantou and a bah jang, tied by a string, and very carefully hung them on Dech’s wrist.

“Phi said these are for later, when you get hungry mid-morning.” He smiled. “P’Mek also wanted to bring you something for lunch; we really tried to make it work but there wasn’t enough time. He hopes you’re not too sad about that, but he promises dinner will be amazing, so maybe eat something light.” Wan’s smile was wide and proud.

Dech chuckled, his eyes watery, his heart beating too fast in his chest. If Mek were there, Dech would have kissed him senseless, the possibililty of being seen be damned. Mek had never been so spontaneous, so open with his caring. Dech felt dizzy.

“I'm sure dinner will be amazing, and I’m not sad about lunch. Thank you, N’Wan.” He pat the boy’s head. “Please make sure to thank—”

“Wait, it’s still not over!” Wan scrambled, and started to rummage again in his bag.

“There’s still more?” Dech was shocked — what else could there be? He got flowers and food and...

Wan nodded as he pulled an envelope from the bag. “This is the last thing. P’Mek said you need to open it when you’re alone. Now I’m done. See you later, P’Dech!” Wan waved and started skipping away in the opposite direction. He didn’t wait for Dech to reply, leaving the man speechless with flowers, food, and a letter with a wax seal.

Dech didn’t waste any time; he practically ran to the office, settling the flowers in the water glass on his desk before sitting down to open the envelope.

Angel,

I know I don’t say it enough, but you are the kindest, purest, most beautiful human being I’ve ever encountered.

I’ll see you this afternoon, as soon as your work is done.

Mek

Dech’s eyes remained glued to Mek’s words for what felt like an eternity. His heart was beating so fast he didn’t even realize the office around him had started to fill with people as his colleagues slowly trickled in to work.

“Good morning, Dech!” Fan, his desk mate, smiled at him. “Nice flowers! Admirer?”

Startled Dech pressed the envelope to his chest and blushed furiously, nodding.

Fan squealed in delight. “Who is she? Do I know her?”

Dech shook his head and didn’t reply, folding the envelope and discreetly putting it in his pants pocket. Maybe if he didn’t answer, Fan would give up eventually. Maybe. He hoped.

One thing was for sure. It was definitely going to be the longest day ever.

By mid-morning, when Dech was unwrapping the bah jang and the mantou, his mouth watering before he even took the first bite, he realized the flowers, the food, and the letter had all made the wait for that afternoon somehwat easier. Every time he raised his head to stretch his neck or rest his eyes he was greeted with the purple buds that Mek had hand-picked, and it filled his heart with joy.

He was doing just that, work momentarily forgotten as he took a big bite of food, when Khun Suwanacheep approached his desk with a new chapter to translate. “Here you go Dech,” he told him, handing him a stack of papers. “It needs to be ready by the end of next week — do you think you can get it done?”

Dech flipped through the stack, giving the pages a cursory glance. “I think so. I’m almost done with the previous one, I’ll send it to revision this afternoon and start working on this immediately.”

Khun Suwanacheep eyed the flowers on his desk, then shook his head. “Only if you have time. You should be out of the office on time today. I don’t want to see you here past 4:00 PM.”

“Hmm?”

“You heard me. You can start on the chapter next week. It’s Friday, I want you out at 4:00 — don’t make me come kick you out.”

Dech blinked, confused, and watched his boss walk away towards his office.

Fan giggled next to him, and Dech frowned. “Do you know anything about this, P’Fan?”

“My lips are sealed,” she said. “Finish your snack and get back to work. You might be the fastest translator in the building, but if you want to start advancing next week's chapter, you need to finish the one you have in front of you first.”

Dech shrugged in his signature sassy way. “I’m only missing two pages, it’ll take one hour if I go slow, don’t worry, P’Fan.”

Fan laughed. “Look at you. One bouquet of wild flowers and you’re back to being unstoppable. You looked like you were seconds away from your death bed yesterday.”

Dech blushed. He hadn’t realized so many people would notice the change in his demeanour.

“I’m glad you’re feeling better. Finish your work so you can go to your girl,” P’Fan told him.

Dech pressed his lips together, but nodded and finished his snacks. With one last glance at his flowers, he focused on his translation. There were only a few more hours to go before meeting Mek, and Dech had work to do.

At five minutes to 4:00, Dech had already finished ten pages of the new chapter and was pretty satisfied with the result. Having something to distract himself with instead of watching the time slowly tick by had been another blessing, but now the moment was here. His heart was beating erratically in his chest. He was itching to see Mek.

Cleaning his desk was a hurried affair as Dech locked his work in his drawer and threw the keys into his work bag. He grabbed the flowers, careful to wrap the stems in some dry paper so they didn’t stain his suit, and bid a nice weekend to P’Fan. He knew there would be more questions from her come Monday, but that was a future him problem.

Khun Suwanacheep also greeted him from his office on his way out, wishing him a good weekend, and Dech got the impression he was making sure he left on time.

As soon as he stepped out of the building, he found Mek’s rickshaw waiting for him, parked next to a tree. It had been cleaned and polished; both the roof and the seat were now decorated with ribbons and beautiful pink and white flowers. It looked like something out of the French fairytales Rati had shared with him before he left.

Wan was waiting in front of it with the same toothy smile he had worn that morning. He was wearing something like a uniform now, a white shirt and purple pants. He waved at Dech as soon as he saw him, beckoning him closer.

“Aren’t you a little too young to be pulling a rickshaw, young man?” Dech asked the little boy as soon as he got close.

“He’s just my helper tonight, Na Noi Dech.” Mek’s voice reached him one second before he slid into view, moving from his hiding place behind the tree.

He was wearing the same uniform as Wan, a white shirt and purple pants, his collar unbuttoned and his sleeves rolled up, revealing his strong and toned forearms. Dech’s voice immediately disappeared at the smile Mek gave him — he was stunning. Dech had missed him so much.

“Nevertheless, I was just about his age when I started pulling rickshaws,” Mek added with a cheeky wink.

Dech immediately took a step towards him, his hand reaching for Mek’s almost unconsciously. “Ai’Mek! I need to talk to you.”

Mek smiled and took Dech’s hand, guiding him toward the seat. “Please, Na Noi Dech.” Mek put gentle hands on Dech’s shoulders, pushing him to sit down. “Get on so we can reach our destination.” Leaning close to his ear, Mek continued in a whisper, “Don’t worry, my angel, we’ll talk very soon. Enjoy the ride — this is all for you.” He moved to look Dech in the eye and gave another wink paired with a reassuring smile.

Dech’s throat was dry and his knees felt suddenly weak, even sitting down, but he nodded all the same.

Mek moved to grab the handle of the rickshaw and Wan scrambled to stand behind where Dech sat.

“Ready little assistant?" Mek called enthusiastically.

“Ready, Phi!”

“Ready Khun Dech?”

Dech felt the blush rise up from his neck. “Uh-huh,” he nodded.

Mek raised the handle and in a second they were moving forward, towards Mek’s land.

The trip was slower than usual. Dech suspected that Mek didn’t want to tire Wan out, who was holding on tight on the back of the rickshaw, and the thought warmed something in his heart. Mek always showed his love in small, thoughtful gestures. Dech loved him so much.

When they finally reached the house, nestled in the grass across the river, Mech slowed down and Wan jumped off the rickshaw. “I’ll go check that everything is ready, Phi!” he exclaimed excitedly, rushing inside.

Mek laughed, using the back of his hand to wipe the sweat from his forehead. Dech looked at him, getting off the rickshaw. Mother Buaphan’s words suddenly echoed in his brain: ‘Khun Mek left the palace way before dawn.’

“Mek…” Dech got closer, gently wrapping his hand around Mek’s wrist. “You haven’t slept at all, have you? Let’s go get some rest, everything else can—” He didn’t get to finish the sentence, because Mek turned, fast as lightning, and put his index finger on his lips, silencing him.

“Shh. I don’t want to hear any of this,” Mek said in that low tone that always made Dech’s blood heat with want. The one he could never deny. Mek moved closer, keeping his finger on Dech’s mouth. “I’m not tired, angel. Not at all. I don’t want you to have to wait another second for the things I have planned for us.” Mek smiled, lowering his finger, his gaze so intense Dech felt his soul melting from fire lighting up deep inside him. He wanted him. Oh, how he wanted him.

“Mek…” He whispered, leaning into him, letting their chests brush against each other. Mek cupped Dech’s cheek, gently brushing his thumb over the soft skin there before guiding him towards his lips.

Their kiss was slow but passionate, infused with all the longing of the weeks they had been apart. Mek used his other hand to grab Dech’s waist and pull him flush against him, making Dech moan into his mouth. Dech’s hand wound around Mek’s neck, pulling him closer, angling his head so that he could have more. More Mek, more kissing, just — more.

With a little groan, Mek broke the kiss. Dech chased him, unsatisfied, wanting more, but Mek only let him succeed at giving him a chaste peck. “I promise angel, there will be plenty of time for this later. I have the whole night planned out.” Mek pecked him again. “Do you trust me?” he asked, caressing Dech’s cheek again.

Dech nodded. Mek’s eyes were dark with desire, his lips red from kissing — he looked gorgeous. Dech watched Mek’s eyes rove over his face, lingering on lips that Dech knew were slightly swollen. He practically saw the moment Mek shook himself out of his reverie, steeling himself against whatever spell Dech appeared to be casting over him.

“I need to talk to you,” Dech told him, grabbing his hands. “It’s important, it can’t wait.”

Mek smiled and gave him another soft kiss. “I know, angel,” he whispered. “I need to talk to you as well. Over dinner, na? We’ll sit down quietly, have some delicious food, and talk. Just me and you.”

Dech looked at him, then at the sky. “It’s still early for dinner, can’t we do it now?”

Mek shook his head. “No, my angel. Now, it’s time to go bathe and get ready for dinner. I just pulled a rickshaw for 20 minutes, I am not coming to a dinner date with you stinking like this,” he giggled. “You deserve a lot better.”

“Di-dinner date?” Dech blinked, and Mek smirked at his stupor, caressing his cheek.

“Yes, angel. Dinner date. There’s a fresh set of clothes waiting for you in the guest room and Wan is drawing you a warm bath. Don’t worry, he’s super excited to help us out, and I’ve made sure his compensation is appropriate.” Mek waggled his eyebrows.

A chuckle escaped Dech’s lips, but he held on to Mek. “Can’t we…” He paused, biting his bottom lip and blushing furiously at the thought that popped into his head. “Can’t we do it together? I’ve missed you so much, I’m going crazy,” Dech whispered, holding on to Mek’s wrist for dear life.

Mek smiled and leaned over to kiss Dech’s forehead. “I’ve missed you too,” he said. “I’ve missed you so much it physically hurts, but if we go together, we’ll never make it to dinner, and I can assure you, we do not want to cross P’Jum.”

Dech frowned, confused. “P’Jum? Who’s P’Jum?”

“P’Jum is our chef tonight. He’s currently in my kitchen, making a delicious dinner for us.”

“You hired a chef?” Dech asked him, eyes wide.

“And a waitress, Nong Tail, from the emporium,” Mek said with a proud smile. “So, we really don’t want to have all these people waiting forever. Besides,” Mek continued, his voice low as he leaned in to brush his lips softly against Dech’s jaw, “if we get in the bathtub together, there’s no telling when I’ll let you get out of it. Let’s be nice to our staff for now, angel; we can do all the other delicious things later, I promise you.”

Dech whimpered, but nodded. “Alright,” he breathed. “I’ll go to the guest room. Alone.” He was aware that he was pouting, but he didn’t care enough to stop.

“Good boy.” Mek pressed a kiss to his jaw and let him go. “You’ll only be alone for the time necessary for getting ready, I promise,” he reassured him.

Wan came out on the balcony at that second. “P’Dech!” he shouted “The bath is ready for you!”

Dech jumped away from Mek, face burning. He waved his thanks to Wan and headed inside.

Mek knew it was unfair — they were finally together in the place they were usually free to be themselves and he had brought people into their sanctuary. In his defense, it was only for a couple hours; P’Jum was going to load Tail and Wan into the rickshaw after dinner was over, and get them back to safety to the city and their homes. Mek had been sure of that, for both his peace of mind, and his and Dech’s privacy for the rest of the night.

“Towels are on this stool, P’Dech,” Wan said, putting two fluffy towels on a stool next to the bathtub. It had been filled with warm water, rose petals, and a scent Dech recognized as essential rose oil. “I’ll leave you to it. But I’ll be outside, so let me know if you want more oil in the water for your skin. P’Mek said you like to have it really nice,” Wan smiled.

Dech looked at the boy, and then around at the bath, the oils, the flowers… It was all so romantic. He was a grown man and he was blushing. How was this young boy so at ease with all this? With two men doing this?

“Wan…” Dech started unsure as to how to approach the subject. “Are you… are you okay with this?”

“With the job?” Wan asked with a smile. “Absolutely! I love it, P’Mek is paying me 100 baht! That is… so much!” he exclaimed excitedly. “And I am having so much fun today!”

Dech smiled, leaning on the edge of the tub. “And you don’t mind that me and P’Mek are… so close?”

Wan got serious and thought for a moment before replying. “He told me I shouldn’t say. That it’s a secret. That other people don’t know, but I don’t care. P’Mek is amazing, he knows a lot of things and he’s nice to me. You’re nice to me as well, and you have kind eyes,” Wan mused. “And he’s paying me 100 baht,” he exclaimed again, raising his index finger and making Dech laugh.

“You are a very practical young boy. Truly P’Mek’s nong,” Dech chuckled. “How about you go fetch me a glass of water and when you get back, I’ll add 50 baht to the 100 P’Mek promised,” Dech said with a wink.

Wan’s face morphed into surprise, but he didn’t say anything as he bolted towards the kitchen.

The water was almost too warm when Dech slid inside the bath, but his body relaxed immediately.

The smell of the essential oil had filled the room and he played with the rose petals gently floating on the surface of the water, letting go a pleased sigh and feeling a smile curve his lips. Mek had hired a chef, a waitress, and a little assistant to draw him a romantic bath, with a change of clothes for the night. He sent him flowers, a romantic note, and snacks at work. Dech had never been so spoiled in the years since they started their relationship.

He couldn't help but wonder what had prompted all this. He certainly hadn’t said anything to Mek, not wanting to stress him out or upset him. Maybe Mother Buaphan had said something to him? She had always been more perceptive than she let on, often treating the two of them like her second and third sons. Whenever they had disagreements, she was there with words of wisdom and encouragement, and maybe this had been no different.

Whatever the cause, Dech was just happy to be getting to spend more time with Mek. And of course, it didn’t hurt that Mek was pampering him like this. Dech slid deeper into the bath, letting the water lap at his chin. He was almost asleep when Wan hurried back into the room with the glass of water Dech had already forgotten he’d sent him to fetch.

“Thank you, Wan,” he said as Wan set the glass on the stool next to the tub. “You’ll find 50 baht in the pouch by the door. Spend it wisely.” He watched Wan’s eyes widen as he opened the pouch, clutching the money to his chest.

“I’m going to save this for something special. Thank you, P’Dech! Is there anything else I can do for you?”

“Just tell P’Mek I’ll be down soon.”

“Yes, Phi!” Wan saluted and left the room in such a flurry it left Dech wondering if the boy knew how to do anything slowly.

Dech let himself luxuriate for a bit longer, working the oil and soap into his skin for the maximum effect, before he dragged himself out of the warm water and towelled off. He inspected the clothes left for him and found them to be much fancier than the outfits he normally wore around Mek’s land, but he supposed that made sense; Mek had made it clear he was planning something big.

When he deemed himself ready — dressed, hair mussed in an ‘I didn’t even try’ kind of way that he knew Mek went weak for, and perfumed appropriately — he headed downstairs to face whatever Mek had planned.

The smell of food reached him as soon as he opened the bathroom door. It smelled heavenly and his stomach growled — he hadn’t realized how hungry he was. It had been a few days since he’d eaten properly, so he was even more grateful to Mek for putting all this together for him. He followed his nose and grumbling stomach to the dining room, finding it decked out in their best dishes and the candles Mek had found in a cabinet, saying his mother had always saved them for special occasions. He’d insisted on using them every time they came up here, saying every day with Dech was special. They were steadily working their way through the stash, and it warmed Dech’s heart to see them on display again tonight.

Dech was still looking around, when a young girl not much older than Wan walked in from the kitchen carrying a big plate of Som Tum.

She blinked at him for a moment, seemingly surprised to see him standing in the middle of the dining room. She smiled and did a little curtsy before paying him absolutely no more mind and moving on with her business of placing the Som Tum on the table.

Dech watched as she puttered, noting the purple pants and white shirt that matched Wan’s uniform. How much had Mek spent on these uniforms?

“Are you Nong Tail?” Dech asked her as she walked past him, but the young girl completely ignored him and just continued towards the kitchen.

Two strong arms wrapped around his waist, successfully distracting him from feeling snubbed by the young Nong.

“Nong Tail is deaf, angel,” Mek said resting his head on his shoulder. “She’s the daughter of the owner of the Emporium of antiquities down at the port. I met them through work, she’s incredibly sweet, and determined to prove her family she's able to survive in the world, and you know… I can empathize. Even if it was just for a moment and only on one side.”

Dech twisted into the embrace, smiling at Mek. “Ai’Mek,” he whispered, but he had no idea how to finish the sentence — there were too many words jumbled up in his throat.

Mek smiled at him instead, his eyes appreciatively scanning his body. “You look amazing, angel,” he said.

Dech blinked, trying to recover from the whirlwind Mek seemed set on spinning him into, and appraised the man in front of him as well. Mek was wearing a Western three piece suit without a tie, the shirt slightly more open than necessary. The dark navy contrasted with his skin in a way that had Dech biting his lip; he looked absolutely ravishing.

If Dech wasn’t so hungry, he would have dragged Mek back to their bedroom immediately.

Instead, he settled for giving a simple compliment, hoping Mek heard the underlying desire in the words. “You look beautiful as well. This color really suits you.”

Mek smiled and pressed a quick peck to Dech’s lips before leaning over his shoulder to check the table. His sharp eyes took in all the details and his brow furrowed as he nodded, deeming things acceptable.

Nong Tail re-entered the dining room at that moment, carrying a heavy lidded pot. She smiled brightly at Mek and curtsied again, as she headed for the table, where she placed the pot down.

Mek unfolded himself from where he was still draped over Dech’s shoulders and took his hand to pull him over to the table. They sat side-by-side instead of across from each other, and Mek looked at all the dishes, taking stock of everything that had been brought out.

“I think this was the last one. We should be able to start soon,” he said, kissing Dech’s hand. “Are you very hungry?”

Dech nodded. “What are we waiting for?” The candles were lit, and the only two place settings already had wine and water poured for them. He didn’t know what else—

The thought was interrupted by a burly, giant of a man walking in from the kitchen, closely followed by Nong Tail. He was wearing an apron and a chef’s hat, a kitchen towel resting on his shoulder. Next to Nong Tail, he looked like a mountain.

“Good evening,” he said, his tone as gruff as his appearance.

Mek smiled and wiggled a little, excitedly. “Good evening, Chef!” he greeted, wai-ing politely.

“Good evening, Chef. It’s an honor to meet you,” Dech said, wai-ing as well. At his words, the giant fumbled a little, blushing like he was embarrassed. Dech turned to Mek in confusion and was greeted with a huge, proud smile splitting the other man’s face.

“Um… Wel-welcome to dinner. I am here to introduce your dishes,” the man said, taking a tentative step towards them. Mek nodded, encouraging him with his open, excited expression.

“Could you also introduce yourself?” Mek said. “Ai’Dech has never met you.”

The man stilled for a moment, hand hovering over one of the pots. “Oh… I’m P’Jum, I work at the restaurant Siam’s Pearl”—Jum paused for a moment, before continuing—“as a dish washer.”

Despite his best effort to maintain his composure, Dech’s eyes went wide at Jum’s admission, and he squeezed Mek’s hand.

Mek laughed, bright and clear. “Oh come on P’Jum! I told you not to introduce yourself like that!” he scolded.

Jum looked bashful, his shoulders rising up to his ears.

“P’Jum works as a dishwasher for now, but he’ll soon be promoted to kitchen staff — you’ll see, his dishes are really good!” Mek explained.

“Mek helped me find the job at the restaurant. I used to work as a rickshaw repairman, but I hated it,” Jum mumbled.

Dech looked between the shy, gentle giant and Mek, who continued to be full of surprises. How many people was he helping silently? How many lives had he touched and made better?

“Mek is wonderful,” Dech murmured, looking at Mek with what he was sure was a love struck expression. He smiled when Mek flushed a little at what he saw on Dech’s face.

“Mek is also hungry,” Mek joked, changing topics before Dech did something stupid like declare his undying love for him in front of P’Jum. “Tell us, Chef, what have you prepared for us tonight?”

Jum straightened and cleared his throat. “Tonight we have”—he opened the first pot with a flourish—“Khao Niew Moo Ping. It’s my specialty, the first dish I ever learned to cook. I’m excited for you to try my improved recipe. You won’t find this version anywhere else,” he added in a conspiratorial whisper.

Dech leaned over the pot filled with meat skewers and sticky rice, and took a deep breath; it smelled delicious. He couldn’t wait to try it.

Jum moved to a longer covered tray. “Here, we have my chicken Satay. The sauce is also a personal specialty; I modified the original version slightly, according to my own taste. I hope you like it.”

Mek smiled reassuringly. “I’m sure we will,” he nodded.

Dech couldn’t help but agree. If the food tasted anywhere near as good as it smelled, Dech might not be able to eat anywhere but Jum’s restaurant ever again.

Next up was the Som Tum Dech had watched Nong Tail bring in. “The Som Tum I made fresh and light, so it will cleanse your palate after the meat and sauces, which you’ll need to properly enjoy…” Jum paused for effect, before whipping the lid off the big pot Tail had placed on the table. “This! This dish is Kuay Teow. You should keep it covered so it won’t get cold, and be careful when you open the lid afterwards — the pot is quite warm.”

Again, Dech leaned over to inspect the heavenly smell coming from the clay pot. The soup was still gently boiling, and the steam was fragrant and warm as Dech took a deep breath in.

“This smells divine, P’Jum!” he exclaimed, looking to Mek for confirmation.

Mek nodded proudly. “I told you, P’Jum is an excellent cook!”

Jum blushed furiously and took three rushed steps back from the table, folding his arms behind his back. “Tail and I will be in the kitchen finishing the desserts. If you need more of anything, just let Tail know when she comes out to refill your drinks. She’ll keep an eye out discreetly,” he said, winking at the girl who giggled silently. They both wai’d before turning back to the kitchens. “Enjoy your dinner!” Jum said, and then it was just Dech, Mek, and the spread of food in front of them.

Without missing a beat, Mek started filling Dech’s plate with the Khao Niew Moo Ping, while Dech did the same with the Satay. When both their plates were full, Mek grabbed his glass of wine and raised it towards Dech.

Understanding immediately, Dech raised his glass and clinked it against Mek’s. They each took a sip, and out of the corner of his eye, Dech could see Mek watching him with his usual smirk. The one that usually meant trouble.

Uh-oh.

“You lied to me, angel.” It wasn’t a question, it wasn’t an accusation — it was a fact.

Dech felt his pulse begin to race as he set his wineglass down. “What?”

Mek’s smirk didn’t falter. “Oh, don’t play dumb now. Come on, you know what I’m talking about.”

Dech bit his lip, his eyes fixated on the tray of Satay, his appetite suddenly lost. Had he read the situation wrong? Was this meant to be one last hurrah before Mek decided to let him go?

Mek reached out to cup his chin and turn Dech’s head towards him. “Look at me,” he murmured, and Dech couldn’t help but obey. He found Mek’s eyes soft, without anger. “I’m not angry with you,” he continued, brushing his thumb along Dech’s jaw, “this isn’t a reprimand. I just want to understand. What happened? Why didn’t you tell me what was going on with you? Talk to me, Ai’Dech.”

Dech blinked, stuck on Mek’s words. “You’re not angry?”

Mek shook his head, releasing his hold on Dech’s chin. “I’m not. I’m confused, and worried. You’ve never lied to me and… I’m scared about the reason you decided to start now,” Mek sighed. “It has to be something truly terrible or truly important, and it frightens me.”

Dech bit his lip. “I’m sorry,” he said in a small voice. “It’s not terrible, it’s not even important… It’s silly and stupid, and I never should have done it. But I was…” Dech let loose a trembling breath, tears threatening to spill again. Mek moved closer to him, his arms going around him to comfort him.

Dech did not deserve this man.

“It’s so stupid,” he said, voice a bit shaky.

“Tell me anyway,” Mek murmured.

“You were so tired,” Dech started, resigned to his fate of having to admit to everything over their delicious dinner that was growing cold. “You still are so tired, and burdened with so much work, and I just… I didn’t want to bring more stress and worries with my silly little problems. I thought I’d wait until the Lyon issue was resolved. Until you weren’t as busy at work. But I’m so stupid — I can’t hide my feelings from you, and you immediately saw through me, so… I had to make something up that wouldn’t weigh you down. I did it to protect you. I’m sorry.” Dech hung his head, shame heating his cheeks.

He waited for Mek to say something, but his monologue was met with silence. When Dech finally raised his head, Mek was looking at him with a deep frown on his face. Dech couldn’t resist reaching over to smooth the lines between Mek’s eyebrows with a gentle touch.

“You lied to me because I was tired and you didn’t want to add more stress with your problems? Is that what you’re saying, angel?”

Dech nodded.

“What were the problems, though?” Mek asked, taking a spoonful of rice and raising it to Dech’s mouth.

Dech grimaced and shook his head. “I’m not hungry anymore,” he said.

Mek tilted his head in confusion. “What?” he asked, incredulous. “You were starving until a moment ago! Please, eat.”

Feeling embarrassed, Dech shook his head.

Mek sighed and put down the spoon. “Angel, is this because we’re having this discussion?” he asked gently, taking Dech’s hand. “Are you nervous about it?”

The sigh that escaped his lips was too shaky for Dech’s liking, and he bit his lip again. “I’ve been terrified for two days. I thought you might leave me,” he murmured, the admission burning on the way out. “I’ve been wanting to talk to you since this morning, because I wanted to implore you not to leave. To beg you to stay with me.” He couldn’t look at Mek and say the words, afraid of what he might see on the other man’s face. He didn’t think he’d survive seeing confirmation of his deepest fears on that beautiful face.

“Ai’Dech, what are you talking about? Look at me, angel, please.” Mek’s tone remained gentle, but there was an undercurrent of fear to it.

Still unable to do anything but what Mek asked of him, Dech looked at him. He found Mek smiling, though his eyes were sad, and the hand of ice that had been gripping his heart started to melt away.

“Angel, I would never leave you. There is nothing in the world you could do that would make me forsake you. Nothing.” Mek’s words still held some tension, like he was afraid Dech might not believe him.

When Dech looked at him now, he could see something in the other man’s eyes, something unsettled. He knew Mek, and so he knew Mek hadn’t expected him to say something of that magnitude. Dech realized very quickly he had misread the situation entirely, and he felt silly all over again. Obviously, Mek wasn’t going to forsake him, and by thinking he might, Dech had caused him even more stress.

Dech’s heart started beating wildly again as Mek brought his hand up to caress his cheek.

“Please, lets eat, na?” Mek asked gently. “P’Jum has done his best with this food — you saw how eager and happy he was for us to try it. It wouldn’t do for us to waste all his work and not get to enjoy these delicious dishes. I promise you, I am not going anywhere. You could tell me you killed a man, and I would still be with you forever, side-by-side in your jail cell.”

That made Dech giggle despite himself. He smacked Mek playfully on the arm, and Mek smiled and picked up the spoon again. The air between them a little lighter, Dech let Mek feed him a spoonful of rice that was more flavourful than it had any right to be.

The moment the food entered his mouth, Dech’s eyes widened in surprise and he hummed in delight.

“It’s good, huh?” Mek smiled, starting to eat as well as Dech nodded enthusiastically.

They ate in companionable silence for a while, the only words out of their mouths the occasional, “this is delicious,” and happy moan.

Despite his earlier admission, and in spite of the warm feeling settling within him thanks to Mek’s acceptance and the mouth-watering meal, Dech knew he had to tell the whole truth at some point. Even if he was scared, he knew he had to be brave — Mek deserved at least that.

They had finished the Som Tum and Mek was carefully pouring them two bowls of Kuay Teow when Dech finally found the courage to explain what had happened in more detail.

“It's been going on for a while, I guess,” he started, apropos of nothing. He said the words slowly, and the only sign Mek gave of having heard him was the way the spoon in his hand stilled for a second before continuing to carefully pour the soup into their bowls. “It spiraled out of control after cousin Rati’s last letter. He was telling me all about his love life with Khun Chai Thee, how incredible he is, how caring and gentle. He asked about… well… us. Our love life.”

Mek finished pouring the soup and sat back in his chair, eyes on Dech as he listened. They stared at each other for a long moment, and a million unsaid things passed between them before Dech found his voice again.

“I realized, while I was trying to write him back, that I didn’t know what to say. I don’t know what we are and it… pained me. And this involves you as well, of course, which is why I wanted to wait until you were done with the mess with Lyon to talk to you about it. I’m sorry I lied, I won’t do it again, I promise.”

There. It was out in the open now, and he had managed to keep it simple. He hoped he hadn’t come across as ungrateful — the last thing he wanted was Mek thinking he didn’t appreciate every moment they spent together. He just wanted Mek to know what was on his mind, and to maybe get a definite answer to what they were to each other. What he was to Mek.

“You cried that night,” Mek said matter-of-factly, picking up a spoonful of soup and blowing on it. That undercurrent of fear, of something shaky and uncertain, was back in Mek’s voice, despite him doing his best to appear nonchalant.

“I’ve cried a lot in the last two days,” Dech admitted, his tone sad and resigned.

“Because you didn’t know what we are to each other?”

Dech shrugged. “I told you it was silly.”

“No. Silly was thinking that whatever happened with Lyon was more important than you. More important than us.” Mek dropped the spoon in favor of Dech’s hand. “That is silly. There is nothing more important to me than you. Nothing.”

Dech felt his cheeks heat again, and he knew it had nothing to do with the delicious soup steaming in front of him. Mek was silent, still waiting, like he knew Dech had yet to finish revealing what was on his mind. And he was right.

Dech took another shaky breath and searched for the right words to continue. The conversation he had with Mother Buaphan that morning was a good place to start.

“I know what we feel for each other. I know what you feel for me,” he started, his voice suddenly rough. He drank some soup to try and steady himself, and for a moment he wished he could just enjoy the soup, enjoy Mek’s company, without having to bare his pain to the man he loved. But alas.

He chanced a glance at Mek, who was looking at him openly and calmly. He twirled his spoon his soup to cool it down while he waited for Dech to continue explaining. Dech started again, but this time he kept his eyes on Mek, watching for his reaction.

“It’s been almost six years that we’ve been doing… this. In all that time, you’ve never said the words, and I…” Dech huffed, flustered. “I don’t want to push you if you’re not ready, and I don’t want to make you feel cornered, but… it’s been so long, and I can’t help but think you don’t feel the same for me as I feel for you.” The words died on his lips, his voice getting smaller towards the end of the sentence, even as Mek gently caressed the skin on the back of his hand.

“You’re right,” Mek said simply.

Dech’s whole world crumbled at those words. He had been expecting — hoping for — a denial, an explanation, but was Mek actually saying Dech was right? That he didn’t feel the same?

Mek shifted in his seat, leaning into Dech’s space to gently cup his face in his hands. “You are absolutely right, and I am so very sorry, angel,” he whispered, and suddenly his forehead was pressed to Dech’s, and breathing wasn’t so difficult anymore. “I have been a coward, keeping those words from you all this time. It is what I feel for you, it’s what I’ve been feeling from the first moment I laid eyes on you. I should have never stayed silent about it.”

Dech blinked, in a daze. Had he heard right? What was Mek saying?

Mek smiled sadly, his thumb caressing Dech’s cheek. “I hurt you for so long and I will spend the rest of our lives trying to make up for this.” He looked so serious, his eyes so earnest.

Dech swallowed around nothing and tears burned in his eyes. He blinked furiously, trying not to cry.

Mek leaned in and captured his lips in his. “Could you be patient a little bit more, my angel? Just a little bit, I promise. I want to turn all this hurt and waiting into something good for you, into something special. I want to give you something you will never forget,” he murmured against Dech’s lips, caressing the line of his cheekbone. “You have always deserved the world, and I’ve been giving you so little. I want to make up for it. Please.”

It was only when Mek swiped his thumb under Dech’s eyes that Dech realized the tears in his eyes had fallen.

“Please, angel. Don’t cry anymore,” Mek murmured, tears shining in his own eyes.

Grabbing Mek’s arms, Dech leaned in, crashing into him. He finally let go of all the pain of the last two days, all the insecurities, fear, and uncertainty. Strong arms wrapped around him, Mek’s chest solid against the storm of Dech’s sobs.

“I love you so much,” Dech cried weakly. “I didn’t want to lose you over this.”

Mek’s hold tightened until it threatened to squeeze the breath from Dech’s lungs, but he found the pressure comforting.

“I know, angel,” Mek said, his voice strained. “I promise — I promise — I will fix this for you. Do you trust me?” he asked, loosening his arms just enough to lean back to look Dech in the eyes.

Dech’s watery smile was rendered a bit comical as he grimaced; Mek often forgot his own strength. “I trust you,” he whispered.

Mek took his hand and brought it to his lips, kissing his knuckles. “Good. Thank you, angel. Now, dry your tears and lets finish the soup — we still have lots to eat!”

Perking up, Dech brought his free hand to his face, drying the remnants of tears left behind. Reassured of Mek’s love for him, he felt hungry again, his stomach slowly reclaiming his stake on the food in front of them.

“There’s more?” he asked. How could there possibly be more food?

“Of course! What kind of romantic dinner doesn’t have dessert?” Mek raised his eyebrow.

“Well, I do love dessert,” Dech giggled, refocusing his attention on the now lukewarm soup in front of him. “And I have loved every dish that we’ve had tonight. P’Jum is really an amazing chef, he deserves his own restaurant.”

Mek nodded in agreement. “He’ll have one, I’m sure of it. Now, finish your plate. It’s been days since you’ve eaten properly, Ai’Dech.”

The rest of the dinner passed without any further declarations or tears.

Tail emerged discretely from the kitchen a few times to refill their glasses with a polite smile, and Jum came out to introduce their desserts — plural. Mek had told him about Dech’s sweet tooth, and Jum had gone above and beyond, preparing banana roti, assorted kanom buang, and even luk chup. Even if there wasn’t technically an occasion to celebrate, Dech felt so overwhelmed he almost cried again. Almost.

Once dessert had been sufficiently devoured, Mek excused himself for a moment to talk to Wan about something he insisted was secret. Dech let him go and sat at the table, looking around at the evidence of Mek’s earlier words. He did love him, even if he hadn’t said it. It was so clear, Dech felt silly for not realizing it.

The catered course-menu, the special candles, the desserts that were made to Dech’s tastes exactly — Mek had always catalogued everything about Dech, had paid attention to his wants and needs, and that had never been more obvious. And what was that, that effort and commitment, if not a sign of his love for him?

Mek returned, and they walked their three guests outside, thanking them for their help in making their evening so magical. They promised they’d see each other soon as Jum loaded Nong Tail and Nong Wan into Mek’s rickshaw.

Mek and Dech stood and waved as the trio started down the lane, watching them go with fondness.

“This was the best night I’ve had in a while,” Dech sighed contentedly, twining his fingers in Mek’s and leaning his head on his shoulder. “Thank you, Ai’Mek.”

Mek leaned his head against Dech’s and Dech could feel the smile on his face. “How would you feel about a walk to pier?”

Dech frowned. “Hmm? I thought…”

“What, angel? What were you thinking?”

“I thought we were going to bed,” Dech pouted. “I want to get you out of this suit.” He trailed his fingers down the front of Mek’s suit slowly, feeling the other man’s breathing pick up beneath his hands.

“The night is young,” Mek said, voice low and eyes dark. “There will be time for that later, I promise.”

“You’ve made a lot of promises tonight, Ai’Mek,” Dech joked, taking a step back. If Mek wanted to delay their activities, Dech was going to need to keep his distance. There was something magnetic about Mek, and Dech was so warm and content he was finding it difficult to ignore the pull of him.

“And I intend to keep every single one,” Mek declared. “Come on, take a walk with me.”

Sighing, Dech took Mek’s outstretched hand. “Oh, all right.”

Mek’s answering grin was bright and happy. Dech let him lead them to the pier, the moon high in the sky like it had been all those years ago. Dech still remembered the tremble in his hands as he’d washed Mek’s back, the way Mek’s muscles had twitched under his touch.

I want to stay like this with you forever. It was like Mek had seen into Dech’s heart, voicing the words he had kept hidden there.

The pier had changed little since then, but Mek had installed a bench at the river’s edge so they could come down and enjoy the breeze off the water. They had wiled away many an afternoon reading or going over work notes there. Mek’s entire property was a haven for them, but this would forever be Dech’s favorite place.

Dech noticed something was different as soon as they set foot on the path winding down towards the pier: a faint orange glow where there was usually darkness. He turned towards Mek, confused, but Mek only smiled knowingly and tugged him forward, even if something in his demeanor changed slightly — he looked nervous.

The closer they got to the pier, the brighter the glow became. When the cause of it became clear, Dech felt like the breath got punched out his lungs.

Somebody had decorated the pier and the bench with little candles that were glowing faintly all around, their little lights glittering over the river's water and through the air. Little purple wildflowers were scattered around as well, making everything more magical and romantic; Dech could smell their fragrant scent on the air.

The pier looked ready to welcome the gods.

Dech was once again speechless and with his heart kicking fast against his ribs. “Ai’Mek…” he breathed, looking around and admiring the place that was so familiar yet so different, emotions surging in him. Nobody had ever done so much for him.

Mek grabbed his hands, positioning himself in front of him."Do you like it?" he whispered, as if he was scared his full voice would somehow break the magic.

“I love it. I love it so much… How did you…?” Dech looked around again, but his gaze was drawn quickly back to Mek's. The golden lights of the candles were reflecting in his eyes, and Dech had never witness a more enchanting vision. He loved this man so much, he felt like he might implode from the force of it. It was overwhelming in the best possible way.

He untangled one of his hands from Mek’s, and caressed his cheek. “I love you so much, Ai’Mek. So much…" he breathed, leaning in for a kiss.

Mek clutched Dech close, pulling him flush against him for a moment. Dech tried to deepen the kiss, but Mek pulled away, not letting it go too far, much to Dech’s immense disappointment.

“Come, angel,” Mek murmured against his lips, and Dech didn't miss the slight strain in his voice, the tightness — the same tension he himself had felt over dinner.

They sat on the bench in silence, the sound of crickets and the occasional bullfrog the only thing punctuating the quiet of the evening. Dech got the feeling that Mek was working up towards something. He could feel it in the tense line of Mek’s arm against his, could see it out of the corner of his eye in the way Mek’s jaw ticked.

He let the silence stretch, not wanting to interrupt whatever Mek had planned. Clearly, dinner had just been a prelude. An appetizer of sorts.

A heavy sigh came from the man next to him before Mek started to speak. “I can’t really do this if I don’t first come clean about something.” He bit his bottom lip, his head hung a little in shame.

Dech frowned at the admission. Come clean? Come clean about what? He wanted to ask, but he didn’t want to interrupt whatever Mek had gathered the courage to say.

“The other day, when you came to the Ministry and sent the note with Wan… did you really think I would just stay put? Take it at face value and do nothing?” Mek asked, sounding incredulous, guilty, and a bit resentful.

“Hmm?”

“You were crying in my arms the night before. I wanted to be with you and you didn’t let me, you just went to bed and shut me out,” Mek sighed. “Then you sent that note… I was so worried. I sent Wan to your office with another note and I talked to your boss — that’s how I knew you lied to me. Your position was fine, you weren’t even reprimanded, but something else was wrong.”

Dech nodded. He had figured something of the sort already over dinner, when Mek had started the conversation by calling out the lie he had told.

“I was hoping to find you in my room that night, once I got back,” Dech admitted, his voice feeble. “When I found the room empty it broke my heart. That’s when I lost it and decided nothing mattered anymore, I just had to get to you and implore you to stay with me. I thought you had stopped caring.”

The speed with which Mek turned towards him almost made Dech jump. “I was there,” Mek said. “Of course I was there, angel. I ran to your room the second I finished dinner with His Majesty, and I was set on not moving until you came back. I wanted to know what was going on, I needed to understand why you were lying… Why—” Mek stopped. He pulled his hair, then cupped his neck with both hands and bent at the waist, like the frustration was too heavy to bear.

The sight tugged at Dech’s heart.

“I never should have left. I made things worse for you. Everything I do, I make it worse. I’m so sorry.” Mek’s voice cracked and Dech rushed to untangle Mek’s hands from behind his neck and hug him, pulling him straight, holding him up.

“What happened? Why’d you leave?” Dech asked, both because he needed to know and because he felt that it was the crucial point of the matter.

“I kicked the letter you were writing to Khruu Rati. I picked it up and read it,” Mek admitted in a breath. “I was looking for an explanation for your odd behavior and it… I’m sorry. I invaded your privacy.”

Dech was sure he made quite the picture with his mouth gone slack with surprise. He had forgotten about the discarded replies to cousin Rati he had just left on the floor.

“I couldn’t believe what I was reading, I couldn’t…I never realized how much I was hurting you. How careless I had been with your heart. And my own broke as well.” Mek took a steadying breath, and Dech felt the something in him come unmoored at the realization of how much Mek was trembling.

“Ai’Mek,” he murmured, wanting to comfort the man in front of him but not wanting to overstep.

“I will never forgive myself for hurting you like this, angel. You should have never doubted how much I feel for you. I should have given you everything you deserved from our first kiss that night at my old place. I’ve been awful to you.”

“No, no don’t say that.” Dech rushed to cup Mek’s face. “You’ve held back and made me confused, that’s true, but you have never been awful to me. I have known for five years that you cared… I started doubting because so much time has passed and we’ve stayed the same. But you never treated me badly.”

“Isn’t it the same?” Mek asked, stricken. “You doubted what I felt for you. You thought I didn’t care, you thought I was going to leave you. You doubted what we are, it’s… Ai’Dech, it’s unacceptable.” Dech wished it was the candlelight making Mek’s eyes shine, but he could see the tears Mek was trying to hold back.

He swallowed around the sudden lump in his throat. “It’s not the same,” he insisted. “You show you care in different ways, and I know that. I got insecure because while I tried to meet you where you were at… I felt like you didn’t try to meet me at all, no matter how long I waited.” Dech sighed. “This is difficult to understand, I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s not,” Mek retorted, shaking his head. “It’s all very clear, and you’re right. I’m the one who should be sorry. I’ve been blind and I took you for granted — not just that, I took what we have for granted, and I will never do it again.”

Sighing, he stood up and shook himself a little bit, like he wanted to physically remove their conversation and its aftermath from his body. Dech observed him in silence, puzzled. Something was still unsettled in Mek, he could tell, but he didn’t know what. It was like the conversation hadn’t yet reached its conclusion and instead, his lover was bracing for another chapter of it.

Turning back to Dech, Mek offered his hand and smiled at him. Dech reached out and took it, barely caring to suppress a giggle when he felt himself being easily pulled up. He also sometimes forgot how strong Mek was, but the rediscovery delighted him every time.

They stepped closer to the water and Mek positioned himself in front of Dech, taking his hands. “Do you like the pier like this, angel?”

Dech smiled, the answer obvious. “It looks like something out of a wonderful dream.”

“I was hoping you’d like it,” Mek said, a little bashful. “I walked away from your room the other night because I wanted to give you something special — a day you would remember forever like you truly deserve, instead of just… rushing to scream carelessly the words you’ve waited so long to hear. That wouldn’t be fair to you. So, I walked away and I spent the night planning the perfect day for you and putting together something you could remember fondly for the rest of our lives. I…” Mek smiled, blushing as shyness crept up his features. “I even jotted down how I finally wanted to tell you.”

The world started to spin and Dech’s heart began to race. Everything, from that morning until now, had all been planned and crafted to show him just how much Mek loved him? Dech felt dizzy.

“Ai’Mek,” Dech breathed, truly speechless.

“I think instead of reading what I wrote down, I’ll say what I feel from my own heart, if you don’t mind.” Mek smiled and gently caressed the back of Dech’s hands.

Dech nodded, speechless, his eyes already wet and brimming with emotion.

Mek smiled and pulled Dech a little closer. “Ai’Dech, I love you,” he said simply, voice clear and eyes that looked deep into Dech’s. “‘I love you’ is actually too little for what I feel for you. ‘I love you’ is not enough, angel. You came into my life like a storm, destroyed social barriers and put us on equal footing, before seeing something in me nobody had ever seen before. You believed in me, protected me from your own family. You chose my side against your own father.

“You made my life extraordinary just by being my friend and then you loved me more. My love, I was a servant before knowing you, and look at what I am now, because you — and only you — believed in me. I should kiss the ground you walk on every day. Ai’Dech… 'I love you' will never be enough. It's too little, too simple, too cheap for the immensity of what I feel for you. But I don't care anymore. You need to hear it and I will give it to you, I will bring down the heavens if you want"

Mek stopped, moving one hand to dry Dech's tears from his cheek with a smile.

“All of this is to say: I love you too, angel. I have always loved you. I love you so much I don't know what to do with myself most of the time,” he added with a wet laugh, eyes roving across Dech’s face, taking in what Dech was sure was an expression of pure joy. “You wrote to your cousin that you don't know what we are and you can't stand it. My love… you are more mine than I am my own. You are every breath I take, every beat of my heart, a piece of my own soul. You want to be called my beloved, my betrothed…” Mek smiled and let one of Dech’s hands go so he could fish something from his pocket.

When Dech dragged his gaze away from Mek’s face, he saw that Mek was holding two golden bands in the palm of his hand.

His breath caught, his heart stopped for a second and he looked at Mek, incredulous. Was this really happening? How had Mek known his secret dream? How had he discovered the innermost wish of his heart? This was a a fantasy. Dech was about to wake up from whatever dream this was, because this was too good to be true.

"I don't want to call you either of those two things. I want to call you my husband. Even if it's just the two of us vowing to each other in front of the gods, and using the name only when we’re here, alone. I want you to be mine, my angel, my love… my life. Be mine for the rest of our lives. Be mine until these bodies return to the earth and be mine into our next lives as well. Be mine forever." Mek took his left hand and looked at him expectantly.

Dech looked at their hands, his left hand in Mek's, Mek’s right hand holding the rings. Then he raised his gaze to Mek, who was waiting for him to say anything, looking at him adoringly.

His cheeks felt warm and his eyes puffy from crying, but they were such good tears that he didn't really care. He did his best to gather some thoughts, because as much as he wanted to just shout “yes,” jump into Mek’s arms, and kiss him senseless, he knew there was more to be said.

“Yes,” he started slowly, voice tremulous with all the emotions trapped in his chest. “Yes, I will be yours for eternity — just like you are mine for eternity. In this life and all the others.” Dech carefully plucked one of the rings from Mek’s hand, marvelling at how light it felt, given the weight of the moment.

Mek slid one of the rings onto Dech's ring finger, slowly, reverently. Dech did the same to Mek, bringing Mek’s hand up to press a kiss to the golden band.

“I vow to all the gods listening right now that you'll be mine forever, Ai’Mek,” Dech said. "I will never let you go.”

Mek smiled, and caressed Dech's face. "I vow to all the gods that you'll be mine forever, my angel. My love… I will never let you go either.”

Mek leaned in and captured Dech’s lips in his while his hands roamed from Dech’s cheeks, to neck, to shoulder, caressing and pressing closer, until they were both lost in the sacredness of the moment. In the love they felt for each other.

Mek’s hand wound around Dech’s waist, pulling him flush against him. Dech let himself be pulled, wanting to be as close to Mek as possible. Dech held onto him like he was the only thing keeping him tethered to the earth. With how light and happy Dech felt in that moment, he thought there was a good chance he would float away, if not for Mek’s hands on him.

They broke the kiss only when the need for air became overwhelming, but they remained with their foreheads pressed together, the tips of their noses touching. Their breaths mingled, and Dech just knew there was a smile on Mek’s face to match his own, even if he couldn’t quite see it.

“I never want you to have doubts about what we are to each other again, my love,” Mek whispered. “You can write to Khruu Rati now and tell him all about this, I don’t mind.” Dech knew it was a joke, but he desperately wanted to tell Rati everything about the past twenty-four hours.

Dech laughed, eyes still wet with tears of pure joy. "You've made me the happiest man in the whole world tonight," he told Mek, holding him a little bit closer. "Thank you, Ai’Mek.”

“You make me the happiest man in the whole world every day, and I’ll try to do the same for you,” Mek countered, leaning back the tiniest bit before pressing a kiss to the corner of Dech’s mouth. “Now, how about I put all these candles out and we go back home? I’d like to make good on my promise, but I think that would be best executed in the privacy of our bedroom. With nothing on but these rings.”

Dech shivered as Mek began trailing his fingers down the column of his throat, each finger leaving a trail of fire in its wake before Mek reached the buttons of Dech’s shirt.

“I am a man of my word,” Mek purred, scraping his teeth lightly along Dech’s jaw.

Dech was a ball of anxious energy by the time the candles were safely doused and they had found their way back to the house. It was quiet and dark, and with everyone having gone home for the night already, they had the whole place to themselves.

They hadn’t let go of each others hand the whole walk back to the house, and even that minimal contact was threatening to catch light and burn him from the inside out. He always wanted Mek, this was a fact he had long ago accepted and learned to live with. But there was something about the other man expressing his feelings so clearly, putting his emotions on display so readily, that had Dech going crazy. He wanted nothing more than to have Mek under him, over him, inside him — whatever Mek wanted, Dech would give to him.

The bedroom door had barely closed, the soft click loud in the quiet of the house, when Dech shoved Mek back up against it, covering his mouth with his own and swallowing the surprised grunt that Mek let out. Dech’s hands moved quickly, unbuttoning and untying swiftly until Mek’s shirt and pants pooled at his feet. With all Mek’s lean, golden skin exposed to him, Dech forced himself to step back and catch his breath.

Gods, but Mek was beautiful. The years of office work had softened him in the best way. He no longer looked like a boy who had missed far too many meals. He still practiced muay thai in his spare time, but with proper meals to sustain him, he had bulked up and rounded out, and the sight made Dech’s mouth water. He got the sudden urge to get that skin under his lips, so he leaned back in and pressed a trail of open mouthed kisses down Mek’s throat. He felt Mek’s pulse racing under his lips, fast but steady. Just like Mek.

“Angel,” Mek sighed, gripping Dech’s hips and pulling him close. There was no mistaking their mutual need for each other, not when they were pressed so closely together. “This doesn’t seem fair, does it? You still have all your clothes on.” There was a hint of petulance to the words. Dech couldn’t help but laugh.

“Then do something about it,” he taunted, mouth still occupied with leaving a bruise on Mek’s collarbone.

The world spun and Dech found himself bouncing as he hit the bed. He gaped up at Mek, who only shot him a smug grin in response.

“That’s why you should practice muay with me,” Mek murmured, looming over Dech. They were pretty much the same height, but Dech felt small like this, and he loved it.

“Why should I, when I have you to protect me?”

Mek hummed as he got to work removing Dech’s shirt.

“And besides,” Dech continued, shivering as Mek tossed his shirt aside and got to work on his pants, “I like it when you handle me.”

“As long as I handle you like something precious, right?”

“Mmm…” Dech considered for a moment. “Precious, yes. But not fragile. Rough is good, too,” he finished in a whisper, reaching to trail his hand down Mek’s side and dig his nails into his hip.

He got the gasp he was looking for. He knew Mek liked his pleasure with a bit of pain, a by-product of his upbringing, perhaps.

“Ai’Dech.” Mek said it like a warning, his eyes dark as he got Dech’s pants untied.

Dech raised his hips and shimmied out of his pants, baring himself to Mek without looking away. The shyness he once felt in these moments had long since vanished. Now, he liked Mek’s eyes on him. Preferred them there, actually.

“Ai’Mek,” Dech countered, eye-contact never wavering as he took himself in hand. He watched Mek’s eyes dart down, saw him bite his lip, caught his fingers twitching. “You said you were going to make good on your promise. Or do I have to do it myself?”

With a sound Dech could only describe as a growl, Mek crowded him back and down into the mattress. He crawled up Dech’s body and straddled his hips, his strong thighs tight and hot around Dech’s hips.

Dech gave a surprised shout when Mek took them both in hand, the sensation hot and dry. He didn’t have to say anything, Mek already reaching for the vial of oil they kept next to the bed.

“I’ve got you,” Mek said, removing the stopper with one hand.

Dech didn’t answer, but he knew. Despite all their talk of rough, he knew Mek would never leave him hurting in a way he didn’t ask for. He waited for Mek to slick his hand up, lounging leisurely back against the pillows. He didn’t have to wait long — Mek had them both back in his grasp in seconds. The oil made everything smoother, more slippery. It heightened the feeling in a way Dech’s already keyed up body wasn’t going to be able to handle for long.

He threw his head back and let the heat build in him, moans falling from his mouth unbidden and unchecked. There was no one to hear them, and he knew Mek liked the verbal confirmation from Dech that he was doing a good job. Call it a remnant of his past, but Mek also had a thing for praise, even if he would never admit it. He was used to being a champion, to being told he was the best, and who was Dech to stand in the way of what Mek was used to?

Letting the feelings wash over him, Dech was torn. On the one hand, he was so tightly wound that he craved release. On the other, he wanted Mek inside him, filling him and lighting him up from the inside out. In the end, greater pleasure won out.

“Wait, wait,” he gasped, stilling Mek’s hand. “I want—”

Mek understood, reading his mind in that way of his. “Part of me thinks you should beg for it,” he murmured, “but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want to be inside you when you come for me.”

“I need you,” Dech breathed, pulling Mek’s hand off their cocks and leading it down to where he wanted him. “Right here.”

The pad of Mek’s still slick finger circled Dech’s hole softly, gently. “You have me.”

Dech didn’t bother trying to hide the way his whole body reacted as Mek pushed past the ring of muscle up to his first knuckle. Just that small intrusion had Dech squirming, reaching for anything he could to ground himself. That jus so happened to be Mek’s thighs, and Dech didn’t care if he left crescent shaped welts there. It would just be another indicator that Mek belonged to him. Less permanent than the rings, but no less intimate.

The feeling of Mek’s finger working him open was so distracting, Dech jumped when he felt warm lips wrap around his nipple. He swore, moving one of his hands from Mek’s thigh to his hair, burying his fingers in the soft strands and tugging lightly. It wasn't a tug that meant stop, on the contrary. It meant more. Harder. Just like that.

One finger turned into two as Mek worried Dech’s nipple with his teeth. The warring sensations were threatening to fry his brain, but Dech was too far gone to care. It was hist fault, really, for falling in love with such a multi-talented man. Dech had been doomed from the beginning.

“More,” Dech asked — begged.

Mek pulled off Dech’s nipple with a light lick to the swollen and oversensitive bud. He grinned when Dech gave a soft cry, running the thumb of his free hand over the flesh that was beginning to bruise.

“I don’t know if you’re ready for more,” he said simply, innocently, like he wasn’t currently torturing Dech to within an inch of insanity. “And you didn’t ask nicely.”

A glare was warranted, but Dech couldn’t make any part of his body do what he wanted. He felt Mek’s ring finger circling his hole, the movement lazy, restrained. He was waiting for Dech to crumble, to lose the last of his composure he was barely holding onto.

“I’m ready,” he insisted, moving his hips in an attempt to get Mek deeper. “Do it.”

Mek raised an eyebrow and pinched Dech’s nipple until he yelped and squirmed in an attempt to get away from the bite of pain. “Was that asking nicely?”

Dech’s chest heaved as he looked at the man kneeling over him. Mek’s chest was flushed to match his face, and there was sweat beading at his hairline. Dech dragged his eyes lower, taking in the hard line of Mek’s cock where it stood curving towards his stomach. For how in control Mek sounded, the way pre-cum was beading at the tip of his cock and slipping down the length of it told a different story. Mek’s breaths were coming heavy but measured and Dech knew Mek wanted this just as much as he did.

Dech’s mouth watered as he watched another bead appear at Mek’s slit. He wanted to chase it with his lips, he wanted the taste of Mek to burst on his tongue.

“Please,” he whispered, tearing his gaze away from Mek’s dick with great difficultly. “I want more. Please.”

“What do you want? Use your words, Khun Dech.”

The honorific in Mek’s low voice had the intended effect. “Another finger. Your cock, anything.”

Mek tilted his head in thought. “Anything?”

“Yes,” Dech practically sobbed. Mek hadn’t let up on his nipple, rolling it between his fingers and pressing into it with his thumb. It was beginning to hurt, but Dech would never tell him to stop. The pain was good, controlled. Pleasurable.

“Do you think you can take the stretch? Like this?”

“I can, I can. Please.”

Mek’s fingers stilled and he studied Dech’s face with a serious expression. Dech knew what he was doing. He was checking to see if Dech was being serious, or if he was just desperate. Mek was loath to hurt him, even when Dech begged for it. Actually causing Dech physical harm was something Mek would never be fully comfortable with, and Dech would never ask him to cause serious damage, but this? This was nothing. This was something Dech could take — wanted to take. He just had to make Mek see it the way he saw it.

“It’s not going to hurt me,” he said gently, moving his hand from Mek’s hair to his cheek. “Not really. I want to feel you, I want to have a reminder of this when I wake up tomorrow. Something no one else can see or feel. Just me.”

The idea of giving Dech something no one else would ever be able to seemed to be the thing that got Mek out of his head. He nodded, removing his fingers carefully. It wouldn’t do to cause Dech discomfort before he got what he wanted, after all.

They repositioned themselves, Mek moving so Dech could roll over. He loved face to face sex with Mek, he loved getting to watch the other man’s face as he came apart, but that wasn’t the scene they were playing with today. Today, Dech wanted it hard and deep.

Dech had just gotten his arms under him when Mek grabbed his hips and pulled him backwards. Twin groans escaped them as Mek’s cock brushed against Dech’s ass, close but not exactly where Dech craved it.

“Hurry up,” Dech groused, impatience warring with arousal.

Mek tsked, and Dech rolled his eyes.

“Please.”

There were no more words to be said after that. Mek entered him with practiced precision, punching the air out his lungs. The stretch was almost too much, but the burn was exactly what Dech needed after the whirlwind of a day he had experienced. There were too many emotions still pent up in him, but Mek was doing his damnedest to fuck them out of him. Every brush of Mek’s cock against that spot inside Dech had Dech seeing stars. His arms began to shake as Mek snapped his hips faster and harder, chasing the release Dech knew was barrelling down on him.

Dech often felt like Mek was sent to earth specifically for him, but in moments like this, he was absolutely convinced Mek was hand made by some higher power for him and him alone. No one else got to have this, no one else got to experience Mek the way Dech did, and he would treasure that knowledge forever.

As it was, no one else would ever know Dech like this either. No one else would ever get to hear the sounds he made when Mek reached around to fondle his chest again, or see the way he clenched around Mek’s length when his hand moved from Dech’s chest to his cock, stroking it in time with the measured thrusts that were currently sending Dech closer and closer to the edge.

Just when Dech thought he was at the point of no return, Mek grabbed his hips again and sat back on his heels, pulling Dech upright onto his lap. The new angle was almost agonizing with how good it felt. Mek was so deep inside him, Dech could feel him everywhere. It was too much and just right at the same time and Dech found himself weakly trying to raise himself on shaky legs, only to drop back down and spear himself open again and again.

“Like this, angel,” Mek whispered roughly in Dech’s ear. “You’ll come like this.”

And there was no hope of Dech doing anything but. He grabbed Mek’s hand and brought it back to his chest, and that’s how he came — untouched, with Mek buried inside him, one hand on Dech’s heart. Mek followed quickly, gasping through his own release. Dech could feel it inside him, just the way he liked.

Things became blurry for him after that. He found himself laying down on the mattress on his side, Mek behind him. Shifting slightly, Dech became aware that Mek was still inside him, but he didn’t mind. They could clean up later. Right now, he just wanted to fall asleep like this, with the love of his life warming him from the inside out.

Dech took Mek’s hand where it was resting on his waist and twined their fingers together. The gold of their bands shone faintly in the moonlight streaming in through the windows, and Dech lost himself in the reflections until his eyes grew too heavy and he let sleep overcome him.

Morning came softly, with birdsong and sunbeams.

Dech shifted under familiar weight. Mek was stuck to him like glue, neither one of them moving much throughout the night. Dech chalked it up to exhaustion, the kind that comes after emotional vulnerability — and the kind of physical vulnerability that left one wrung out and hollow in the best way.

Mek snuffled into the back of Dech’s neck, waking up with a groan. “I love you,” he said, by way of greeting.

Dech twisted in Mek’s hold to press a kiss to his forehead. “Good morning. I love you too.”

“I didn’t get a chance to say it last night before you fell asleep., so I wanted it to be the first thing you heard when you work up today.”

“Technically,” Dech whispered, “the birds were the first thing I heard this morning.” He laughed at Mek’s answering pout. “But birds don’t speak Thai, so I don’t think that counts.”

“It doesn’t,” Mek insisted, burrowing in even closer.

“We need to clean up.” Dech didn’t know about Mek, but he was sticky with dried sweat and cum, and he desperately wanted a bath.

Mek sighed dramatically. “I suppose so.”

“How much time do we have here?” Their stays at Mek’s property were never long enough for Dech’s liking, especially impromptu ones like this.

“Just the weekend,” Mek said, dejected.

Dech hummed. “Well, I guess we’ll just have to make the best of it.” He pulled Mek into a slow, sensual kiss, feeling the other man stir against his thigh.

They had two whole days. That was plenty of time.

Cher cousin Rati,

Life in Siam is like a dream. I truly never thought I could be as happy as I am now.

Ai’Mek is doing so well; his French might even rival yours by now. His work keeps him so busy, but the office respects him and his work so much. Of course, I knew all along he was capable of this, everyone else just needed to catch up.

I love him so much. I know you understand, because you have Khun Thee. You know how it feels to love someone more than you love yourself. And he loves me. He tells me every day, morning and night. I thought I knew what life would be like with him, but it’s flourished in a way I never anticipated.

Mek proposed. Can you believe it? I know it can’t mean anything in the eyes of the law, but it means everything to me. To both of us. It doesn’t matter if the world isn’t ready for us to be together, what matters is that we love each other and we have the rings to prove it.

Oh, and we did something stupid the other day. I know you’d probably chastise us, but Khun Chai Thee would absolutely approve, so make sure he reads this letter over your shoulder, like I know he will anyway.

We told Mother Buaphan and grand-père. About us. I can hear your disapproval from here, but we don’t all have the luxury of moving to Paris and having relative anonymity. They are the two closest people to us here, and we wanted them to know. They were understandably concerned for us, society being what it is, but they also gave us their blessings.

How are things between you and Khun Chai Thee? I sincerely hope you are as happy as I am right now. Everyone deserves this kind of happiness.

I am looking forward to your letters. We’ll come visit soon!

Love,

Your Cousin Dech.

Rati couldn’t stop the wide smile that was spreading across his face. He heard Thee huff a disbelieving laugh behind him.

“I can’t believe they did that,” Thee said, taking the letter from Rati’s hand.

“Can’t you? I can. Those two were born to break boundaries.” Rati stood from his desk, stretching his arms over his head. “Knowing them, they’re already on a boat on their way here. We better get ready for their arrival.”

“Oui, mon chéri,” Thee murmured, pulling Rati into a kiss.

Mek and Dech in Paris. The world might not have been ready, but Rati thought it better catch up quickly, because Mek and Dech weren’t going to wait for it.