Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Boom’s apartment always sounded louder at night.

The refrigerator clicked and hummed in uneven intervals. A motorbike revved somewhere below his balcony and then dissolved into the steady rush of traffic from the main road near the BTS station. The air conditioner rattled with the stubbornness of an overworked machine. His desk lamp cast a warm circle of light across scattered lecture notes, and a half-finished iced coffee sweating onto a coaster shaped like a cartoon duck.

His apartment held the day’s heat stubbornly, even with the air conditioner rattling near the ceiling. The place was small but arranged with careful precision - a narrow kitchen pressed against the wall of the living room, two stools tucked under a slim counter, a gray fabric couch positioned opposite a modest television balanced on a wooden stand he had assembled himself and cursed the entire time. Beyond a sliding door was his bedroom, neat but lived in, and a separate bathroom that smelled faintly of citrus cleaner.

He liked living alone. He also hated it.

On the coffee table lay his laptop, open to a half-finished editing assignment. A timeline blinked accusingly on the screen. He had promised himself he would finish it before midnight.

“Okay,” Boom told himself, like he was talking to a pet. “We’re going to finish this, we’re going to be a responsible adult, we’re going to -”

His phone buzzed.

He didn’t grab it immediately. He tried to be strong. He made it maybe three seconds before his hand drifted over with a kind of sad inevitability.

Three muted group chats. Two class project threads. One fan group he never posted in but enjoyed lurking. And at the very top - newly joined two days ago - “Bangkok Freshmen / Movers / Transfers.”

He had found it randomly in the list of group chats on LINE. A group for students moving to Bangkok for university. Fresh high school graduates asking about dorms, neighborhoods, food prices, train lines. It was chaotic in the way only large group chats could be - people asking the same question five times, someone sending a sticker pack of dancing cats, a heated debate about whether it was cheaper to live near On Nut or Ratchathewi.

Boom did not need to be there. He was already in his second year. He had survived the move. He knew the mistakes.

He also had a habit of joining rooms full of strangers and speaking from behind the safe glow of a screen.

He was, by nature, an introvert. He hated loud bars, hated being pulled into new circles without warning, hated phone calls enough that he’d let the ring die and then text sorry I missed your call as if it had been an accident and not a lifestyle choice.

Online, though, the rules felt different. You could watch first. You could choose when to speak. You could leave without anyone physically watching you leave. The barrier between him and other people was glass. He could press his face up to it and still pretend he was alone.

Boom had joined so many group chats over the years that his LINE app looked like a crowded train platform - icons stacked, muted notifications blinking in red. University meme pages. Housing searches. Media majors complaining about deadlines. Strangers discussing BTS routes like they were trade secrets. He rarely posted selfies or personal updates, but he typed constantly. He liked watching people from the safety of a chat box. Words gave him space to think. Silence in real life pressed too close to his ribs.

He tapped the link.

The chat was chaos.

“Is 6,000 baht enough for rent near Siam???”
“Anyone else studying engineering at Chula?”
“How do you survive without a car???”

Boom snorted quietly. He tucked one leg under himself and began scrolling up, skimming questions and answers that were either wildly optimistic or catastrophically misinformed.

Someone had typed:

“I found a condo for 3,500 near Asok - seems fine?”

Boom’s thumbs hovered over the keyboard.

Boom: If by ‘fine’ you mean haunted or missing at least one wall, then sure.

A few laughing emojis followed almost immediately.

He felt the familiar small lift in his chest - the harmless thrill of landing a joke with strangers who would never expect anything deeper from him.

Another message popped up.

“Is it hard to move from upcountry? I’m coming from Khon Kaen and I’ve never lived in Bangkok before.”

The username was simple: aou.t.

Boom clicked on the profile out of habit. A profile picture of a sky shot over what looked like rice fields.

.

He rolled his shoulders and typed.

Boom: Hard? Depends. Do you enjoy humidity that feels personal?

A pause.

aou.t: Personal how?

Boom: It doesn’t just sit on you. It negotiates. It asks what you’re wearing and decides that was a mistake.

More laughing emojis from other members.

Aou replied again.

aou.t: Good to know. I’ll pack regret-resistant clothes.

Boom leaned forward, elbows on desk now.

Boom: Pack patience instead. And don’t rent anything before seeing it in person. Also - avoid places that advertise ‘cozy.’ That usually means you can brush your teeth while sitting on the bed.

aou.t: Noted. I’m coming next month to look at places. I’ll try not to brush my teeth in bed.

A private message request appeared less than a minute later.

He hesitated.

Then tapped on it.

Aou: Sorry to bother you. Thanks for the advice! I didn’t want to spam the group.

Boom sat up straighter as if the other boy could somehow see him through the screen.

Boom: You’re allowed to spam questions. That’s what the group is for.

Three dots blinked.

Aou: Are you always this encouraging?

Boom stared at the message, then typed, erased, typed again.

Boom: Only when I’m procrastinating. What uni are you going to?

They compared campuses. They were twenty minutes apart by train. Close enough to meet, far enough to justify separate routines.

Aou mentioned he had never lived outside Khon Kaen. He asked what to expect.

Boom glanced around his apartment as if taking inventory on behalf of the entire city.

He described the humidity that clung to your collar the moment you stepped outside. The way street food vendors argued loudly and then laughed like they were performing. The relief of stepping into a 7-Eleven at midnight when the air conditioning hit your face like a blessing. He told him which BTS stops felt chaotic and which ones felt manageable. He warned him about taxis that pretended their meters were broken.

The conversation shifted from logistics to small fragments of daily life without either of them naming the transition.

Aou: Do you cook or just survive on delivery apps and street food?

Boom: I cook. Sometimes. I have a frying pan and ambition.

Aou: That’s brave.

Boom sent a photo before he could reconsider - his kitchen counter, modest and slightly cluttered, a cutting board with half a sliced onion, a pan on the stove. Nothing staged. Just proof of existence.

Aou responded with a picture of his room in Khon Kaen. A neatly made bed. A wooden desk. A stack of textbooks. The window open, thin curtains lifting in a breeze.

Boom zoomed in subconsciously, noticing the way the afternoon light fell across the floorboards.

They talked for an hour that first night. Then two the next. The rhythm settled quickly, like a pattern they both recognized without acknowledging.

Aou had posted once more in the public chat, thanking someone else for condo advice. Boom felt an irrational little flare of… something. Possessive wasn’t the word. That sounded too intense, too dramatic, like he belonged to a soap opera.

It was more like recognition. Like he had already filed Aou into a mental folder labeled mine to talk to and now the folder was being opened by other people. He snorted at himself, embarrassed alone.

Boom found himself checking his phone while brushing his teeth. Rereading older messages when he should have been studying. Smiling at the screen and then catching his own reflection in it, embarrassed by the softness in his expression.

One evening, after Aou sent a voice message for the first time - low, slightly husky, words unhurried - Boom replayed it twice under the pretense of missing something.

He lay back on his bed and pressed the phone to his ear again.

“Is Bangkok really that loud at night?” Aou’s voice asked through the speaker. “Or are you exaggerating for dramatic effect?”

Boom closed his eyes.

He typed back instead of sending a voice note.

Boom: Come find out. I’ll give you a guided tour of noise pollution.

There was a pause before the reply.

Aou: Deal.

The word lingered.

Their chats would range from small talk and every day rants and anecdotes to deep conversations. One day, Aou mentioned he would miss the grilled chicken near his house in Khon Kaen. Boom countered with a rant about overpriced café brunch in Bangkok that tasted like someone’s aesthetic Pinterest board.

“You sound bitter,” Aou wrote.

Boom: I’m realistic.

Aou: Same thing sometimes.

Boom found himself grinning at the screen again. He stretched his neck, the tension there easing without him noticing when it had formed.

Aou sent a photo - a simple one. Not a selfie. A street near his house at dusk. A stray dog sleeping under a bench. The sky wide and pale.

“I’ll miss how quiet it gets,” Aou added.

Boom studied the image longer than necessary. He imagined the air there - less heavy, maybe. He imagined Aou standing just outside the frame.

Without thinking too much, he snapped a photo of his own view - the cluttered living room, the glow of the city outside the balcony railing, laundry hanging awkwardly.

“Bangkok at 10:59pm,” he wrote. “Romantic, I know.”

“Looks lived in,” Aou replied.

Boom’s thumb hovered over the keyboard.

Boom: That’s one way to say messy.

Aou: I didn’t say messy.

He leaned back again, phone resting against his chest for a moment. 

Why does that feel like flirting?

He told himself he was projecting.

They kept talking.

About university fears. About professors rumored to be impossible. About how both of them preferred staying in over going to loud clubs, despite Boom being the type to make sarcastic comments in group chats as if he thrived on attention.

“You seem extroverted,” Aou wrote at one point.

Boom stared at that message for a long second.

“I’m loud online,” he typed slowly. “In real life I need recovery time after ordering coffee.”

Aou: That’s relatable.

Boom: You?

Aou: I’m loud in real life. But I prefer quiet.

Boom swallowed.

He knew the kind of feeling he was experiencing, even if he was trying to pretend it hadn't been making a home inside his chest for the past few days. That fluttery feeling every time he his phone screen lit up with a new notification. The way somehow every song made him think about a certain person. How everything suddenly tasted better and he didn't mind being sardined on a BTS during rush hour.

He knew that feeling and it both excited and scared him in equal measure.

Aou: I’ll be in Bangkok from next week. Do you maybe want to meet up once I’m settled in? Or is that weird?

Boom’s heart did something complicated in his chest. His palms were sweating a little.

Boom: Not weird. Let me know when you’re free.

Aou sent a sticker of a smiling chicken. Boom locked his phone and threw it on his bed as if that would somehow calm whatever was going on in his ribcage.

Aou sent a selfie two weeks later - unprompted, casual - and Boom had to sit down.

It was taken in the reflection of a mirror. Aou stood slightly off-center, phone half-obscuring his face. He wore a plain white T-shirt, hair falling softly over his forehead, eyes steady and observant. There was nothing flashy about him. No forced expression.

Boom zoomed in despite himself.

His stomach dipped unexpectedly.

Aou: So you know what I look like. I’m all moved in! Want to meet for a coffee tomorrow?

Boom took a deep breath before replying.

Boom: You look like you’ll survive Bangkok. I’m free. Want to meet at the Ekkamai BTS station at 4pm?

The reply came after a minute.

Aou: That’s reassuring.

He followed it up with a cat sticker giving a thumbs up

Boom set his phone down and pressed his palms against his cheeks, cooling them.

He told himself it was just curiosity.

Boom put his phone down after that and stared at it like it had personally threatened him. His apartment felt smaller suddenly, the same two room space he’d been in all week, but now it had a new feature: the knowledge that in a few hours he would be standing in front of a real person who could disappoint him.

His brain did a quick inventory of possible disasters.

What if Aou thought he was annoying in person? What if the humor didn’t translate? What if Aou was taller than expected and Boom had to crane his neck like an idiot? What if Aou smelled like cigarette smoke? What if Aou hated Bangkok immediately and blamed Boom for making it sound survivable?

What if Boom’s face looked different from his profile photo, which was an old candid from a friend’s birthday where the lighting had been kind?

He got up and walked to the bathroom, turned on the light, and stared into the mirror. His hair was doing its usual thing, which was to pretend it was low effort while still requiring negotiation. He ran water over his hands and pushed his bangs back, then let it fall again because he looked like a different person when he tried to be neat.

He changed his shirt twice. The first one was too loud. The second one made him look like he was going to a job interview. He landed on a plain dark t-shirt and jeans that fit well enough to make him feel like he had a spine. Then he gave up and went to bed.

The next day, the city felt heavier with humidity. The sky hung low and gray, threatening rain. Boom checked his phone three times before leaving the apartment, then once more in the elevator.

He arrived ten minutes early and pretended he had not.

Boom spotted him immediately when he stepped off the BTS. Aou was smaller than Boom had imagined, or maybe the station made everyone look small, swallowed by concrete and movement. He wore a pale t-shirt and a lightweight overshirt left open. His hair was slightly messy, falling into his eyes in a way that looked unintentional but flattering anyway.

For a second, the station noise faded into something distant, like Boom had gone underwater. Aou’s eyes were dark and alert, and his face had that calm expression Boom recognized from the messages, the quiet amusement that didn’t need to perform. He smiled, big, bright, shining, eyes crinkling at the corners, and Boom was done for.

They stopped a step too far apart for a hug, a step too close for casual distance.

“Hi,” Boom said, and immediately hated how breathless it sounded.

Aou’s mouth curved slightly. “Hi.”

For a moment they just looked at each other. It should have been awkward, Boom thought, but it wasn’t.

“So this is your famous noise pollution,” Aou said as a train roared overhead.

Boom glanced at him. “You’re underwhelmed?”

“I expected more chaos.”

“Give it time.”

Aou smiled in a way that made Boom’s stomach tighten pleasantly. 

“Should we go get that coffee then?”

Any fears that Boom had had about disappointing Aou, them not getting along in person, or it being awkward flew out the window pretty much immediately. They went to a cozy café at the edge of Ekkamai and ordered lattes, conversation flowing easily between them the entire time. Even when there were moments of silence, it never felt awkward or uncomfortable, and that only furthered the warm feeling in Boom’s chest. Aou ordered two slices of cake for himself and admitted defeat halfway through the second one, demanding Boom should finish it. Boom tried his best not to wipe the cream from the corner of Aou’s mouth, near the little moles he had there, and simply handed him a napkin.

“We should hang out more often,” Aou texted him before Boom had even fully closed the door to his apartment when he got home.

“Let’s,” was all he replied, adding a happy sticker afterwards before feeling like he was about to dissolve into a puddle of goo.

They met up almost every day from then on, usually going for coffee, to the mall, or just sitting in the park, talking about everything and nothing. Boom’s heart was soaring. Boom’s head was a mess. Boom’s thoughts revolved entirely around Aou.

After two weeks, Boom invited Aou over to his place on a rainy day after classes.

When they stepped into Boom’s apartment, Aou paused just inside the doorway.

“It’s nice,” Aou said, setting his backpack down carefully.

“It’s functional,” Boom corrected, suddenly hyperaware of every cluttered surface.

Aou walked further inside, fingers brushing the back of the couch, the edge of the kitchen counter. He moved like he was mapping it quietly in his head.

“You live alone, right?”

“Yeah.”

Aou nodded slowly. “Peaceful.”

Boom watched him from across the room and thought about the refrigerator humming at night, the empty side of the bed, the way silence sometimes pressed too hard against his ears.

“Sometimes,” he answered.

They ordered food instead of cooking. Ate cross-legged on the floor because the coffee table was too small. Laughed about the group chat drama as if they were already sharing inside jokes built over years.

When Aou leaned back against the couch, one knee brushing Boom’s thigh, neither of them moved away.

Days blended together after that.

Aou found his rhythm and settled into university life. Boom attended lectures and pretended to focus. They met in the evenings more often than either of them acknowledged as intentional. Studied side by side at Boom’s dining table, legs tangled subconsciously under the surface. Took late night walks to the 7-Eleven, arguing about which snacks were worth the price.

One night, rain trapped them inside again.

The storm hit suddenly - heavy drops slamming against the windows, thunder vibrating through the walls. The lights flickered once then stayed on again.

They were sitting on the couch, a half-finished movie paused on the screen because neither had been paying attention for the last fifteen minutes.

Aou turned slightly, knee still pressed against Boom’s. “You’re quiet.”

“Am I?”

“Suspiciously.”

Boom swallowed. His heart had been beating too fast all evening, awareness coiling tight under his skin.

“Can I ask you something?” he said.

Aou’s expression shifted - attentive, steady. “You just did.”

Boom rolled his eyes softly, stalling for half a second longer. The rain intensified, drumming against the glass.

“This thing,” he began, gesturing vaguely between them. “What is it?”

Aou looked at him for a long moment, not evasive or alarmed, just considering.

“You tell me,” he said.

Boom let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. “I don’t usually- ” He stopped, recalibrated. “I don’t want to guess wrong.”

Aou’s hand moved slightly on the couch cushion, close enough that Boom could feel the warmth radiating from his skin.

“I like being here,” Aou said quietly. “With you.”

The simplicity of it made Boom’s chest ache.

He shifted closer without fully deciding to. Their shoulders aligned. Their knees pressed more firmly together.

“I like you,” Boom replied, voice steadier than he felt. “In case that wasn’t obvious.”

Aou’s mouth curved again, softer this time. “It was moderately obvious.”

Boom huffed out a small laugh, nerves unraveling into something electric.

“Okay,” he said. “Well.”

He reached up, fingers brushing Aou’s cheek lightly, giving him enough space to pull away.

Aou didn’t.

“Can I kiss you?”

Aou was still smiling and nodded. “Mm.”

The first kiss was tentative - lips touching carefully, testing shape and pressure. The world outside narrowed to the warmth of Aou’s mouth, the way Aou’s hand came up to rest at Boom’s waist as if it had always belonged there.

Boom deepened it slowly, tilting his head, fingers sliding into Aou’s hair. The response was immediate - a quiet inhale, a firmer grip, bodies shifting closer until there was no space left between them.

When they finally pulled back,  the rain had softened to a distant murmur.

Boom looked at him at the flushed skin, the slightly parted lips, the steady gaze.

“Be my boyfriend,” he said, because anything less felt dishonest.

Aou blinked once, then smiled again.

“Okay,” he answered.

Boom laughed, half disbelief, half relief. “That’s it? Okay?”

“What were you expecting?”

“I don’t know. A speech.”

“You talk enough for both of us.”

By the time midterms rolled around, Aou had a toothbrush in Boom’s bathroom that no one had formally discussed.

Aou still lived in a small rented room near campus - narrow bed, metal wardrobe, window that faced another building’s wall - but he spent most nights at Boom’s place. His guitar leaned permanently in the corner now, picks scattered on the TV console like forgotten coins. A pair of dark sneakers had taken up residence near the door.

Boom had never had a relationship before. Situationships, yes. Girls who liked the way he talked, who found his attentiveness charming until it became too much. He had learned early that he invested quickly and felt deeply, and that not everyone wanted that kind of intensity aimed at them.

With Aou, the intensity felt balanced.

They didn’t perform for each other. They didn’t need to.

One humid afternoon, they sat cross-legged on the floor surrounded by Aou’s textbooks and Boom’s editing notes. Boom had his glasses perched low on his nose, Aou was tapping his pencil lightly against his lip as he read.

Boom watched him for longer than he intended.

“What?” Aou asked without looking up.

“You’re doing that thing,” Boom said.

“What thing?”

“You tap the pencil when you’re pretending to focus.”

Aou glanced at him now, eyebrow lifting slightly. “I am focusing.”

Boom leaned over, plucking the pencil from his hand. “You’re thinking about dinner.”

Aou considered that, then nodded once, with a slightly sheepish grin. “A little.”

Boom grinned and leaned in, pressing a quick kiss to the corner of Aou’s mouth before he could stop himself. The kiss lingered.

Aou’s hand came up automatically, resting at Boom’s waist. Boom shifted closer, knee sliding between Aou’s legs. The textbooks were nudged aside without ceremony.

They had been kissing like this more often lately - slow at first, then gradually less restrained. Boom liked tracing the line of Aou’s jaw with his fingers, liked the way Aou’s breath hitched when Boom kissed just below his ear.

There was still a layer of hesitation underneath it, something unspoken but present.

Aou had told him once, casually, while they were lying side by side staring at the ceiling.

“I’ve never done this before.”

Boom had turned his head. “Kissed someone?”

“I mean… I’ve kissed friends. At parties, for fun. But not anything… Anything. Anything more.”

Boom had swallowed, heart jumping. “Oh.”

Aou had shrugged slightly. “I always kinda… knew I liked both. Just never… acted on it.”

Boom had wanted to ask a hundred questions. Instead, he had said, “We can figure it out.”

Now, as Aou’s fingers tightened slightly in the fabric of Boom’s t-shirt, that memory flickered through his mind.

Boom pulled back first, resting his forehead briefly against Aou’s shoulder.

“You’re blushing,” he murmured.

“So are you,” Aou replied evenly.

Boom huffed a soft laugh. “I’m allowed. I have experience.”

“With women,” Aou said.

Boom lifted his head. “Jealous?”

Aou’s mouth curved faintly. “Curious.”

The word settled between them. Boom felt heat crawl up his neck.

They had talked around sex several times. Joked about it. Alluded to it. Never stepped fully into it. It wasn’t that the desire wasn’t there. It was almost too there - buzzing just beneath the surface whenever they touched.

Aou’s thumb traced absently along Boom’s hipbone now, slow and exploratory. Boom inhaled sharply.

“You’re doing that on purpose,” he said.

Aou tilted his head. “Doing what?”

Boom caught his wrist gently, holding it in place. Their eyes met.

The air felt thicker suddenly.

“We don’t have to rush,” Boom said quietly.

Aou studied him for a long moment. “I’m not rushing.”

Boom released his wrist.

Neither of them moved for a second.

Then Aou leaned in again, kissing him with more intention this time - less tentative, more certain. His hand slid under the hem of Boom’s shirt, palm warm against bare skin.

Boom’s breath stuttered.

He had imagined this more times than he cared to admit. The first time. The first night. The line they would cross.

His body reacted before his brain could intervene, hips shifting closer, fingers curling into Aou’s hair.

They moved to the couch without breaking the kiss, stumbling slightly over scattered notes. Boom’s back hit the cushions, Aou bracing himself above him, weight careful but present.

There was a moment - brief but noticeable - where both of them hesitated. And then they broke the tension with a joke, as they had done quite a few times before, returned back to what they deemed normalcy, Aou packing up their books and notes and Boom getting up to get started on making dinner.

The idea of moving in together began as a joke.

They were sitting on the floor again, backs against the couch, spreadsheets open on Boom’s laptop. Aou had spread out his monthly expenses on a notepad in careful handwriting.

“Bangkok is robbing me,” Aou said calmly.

“You moved here voluntarily,” Boom replied.

“My dorm is charging me for air I didn’t breathe.”

Boom leaned over to look at the numbers. “You’re paying almost the same as half my rent.”

Aou tapped his pen against the paper. “Exactly.”

The thought landed between them and stayed there.

Boom looked around his apartment - the small bedroom, the narrow closet, the couch that had already memorized the shape of Aou’s body from countless evenings. It didn’t feel like a stretch. It felt inevitable.

“You basically live here anyway,” Boom said lightly. “Just move in.”

Aou’s pen stopped tapping.

“I don’t want to assume,” he said.

Boom felt that familiar tightening in his chest - the fear of pushing too far, too fast. He forced himself to breathe through it.

“I’m not saying we get married,” he replied. “I’m saying we could split rent or utilities and stop pretending you’re just visiting.”

Aou studied him for a long moment, eyes thoughtful rather than hesitant.

“Are you sure?” he asked quietly.

Boom shrugged, trying to look casual. “You already stole half my fridge space.”

Aou’s mouth curved. “Your fridge was empty.”

“That’s not the point.”

Silence stretched - not awkward, just full.

Then Aou nodded once. “Okay.”

It happened like that.

Moving in did not feel dramatic.

Aou brought two suitcases and a box of clutter and books. Boom cleared half the closet without being asked. A second pillow appeared on the bed permanently. More hangers filled the narrow closet. The bathroom shelf grew crowded with two brands of shampoo.

The apartment shifted subtly around them.

Some nights, Boom would wake in the dark and feel Aou’s arm heavy across his waist, breath steady against his shoulder. The refrigerator would hum. A motorbike would pass outside.

The silence no longer pressed in on Boom.

Living together shifted the rhythm of their relationship.

Mornings were softer now - Aou’s alarm vibrating against the bedside table, Boom groaning and pulling the blanket over his head. They brushed their teeth shoulder to shoulder, shared towels without comment, argued mildly about whose turn it was to wash dishes.

They made out constantly at first.

In the kitchen while waiting for water to boil. Against the bedroom door after coming home from class. On the couch with the TV still playing until one of them laughed too hard and ruined the mood. 

There was hunger in it, but also curiosity. They learned each other’s reactions gradually - which touches made the other lean in, which jokes broke tension too quickly.

There was something intoxicating about access - about knowing the other person wasn’t leaving at midnight.

Yet when things edged toward something more, when touches drifted lower and breaths grew heavier, they both hesitated.

It wasn’t fear exactly, more just the unfamiliarity.

One evening, they were sprawled across the couch, legs tangled, a playlist humming softly from Boom’s phone. The city outside was quieter than usual.

Aou’s hand rested at Boom’s waist, thumb tracing small absent patterns over fabric.

Boom felt every movement like a live wire.

He tilted his head, kissing Aou slowly, deeper than usual. Aou responded immediately, pulling him closer until Boom was half - straddling his lap.

The shift in position changed the temperature in the room.

Boom felt it - the press of Aou’s body beneath him, the tension tightening rather than easing. He pulled back slightly, breath uneven.

“Okay?” he asked, searching Aou’s face.

Aou’s eyes were darker than usual, but steady.

“Yeah.”

Boom hesitated. “We don’t have to- ”

“I know,” Aou said. “I want to.”

There was a flicker of nerves there - not doubt, not reluctance. Just awareness that they were stepping into something neither of them had practiced.

“Do you?”

Boom swallowed. “I don’t want to mess it up.”

Aou’s lips brushed the corner of his mouth, soft.

“It’s not a test,” he said quietly.

That made Boom laugh under his breath, tension easing slightly.

Boom let his hands explore carefully, mapping skin he had only touched through layers before. Aou’s breath caught when Boom’s fingers slid under his shirt, palms warm against bare muscle, fingertips ghosting over his nipples.

The first time they tried to go further, it dissolved into nervous laughter.

They knocked elbows. Someone’s knee slipped awkwardly against the couch cushion. Boom almost head - butted Aou when trying to adjust his angle.

“Professional,” Aou muttered dryly, cheeks flushed.

“Shut up,” Boom replied, burying his face in Aou’s shoulder to hide his grin.

They stopped that night before crossing the invisible line.

Not because they didn’t want to.

Because wanting felt overwhelming enough.

The first time they went further was after they had completed their assignments and celebrated it by putting on a movie they had both decided was bad and boring thirty minutes in.

Their legs were tangled as they lay sprawled out on the couch, one of Aou’s hands curled into Boom’s shirt at his chest, the other into his hair as they were making out, and it probably would have just stayed that way, if Aou hadn’t moved his mouth down to Boom’s neck. Boom let out a low noise, pulling Aou closer, almost over himself, hands at his waist, fingers slipping under the fabric of his shirt.

Aou pulled back a little, mouth closer to Boom’s ear, voice low and husky. “Can I touch you?”

Boom felt a tingle under his skin, felt it everywhere. 

He nodded, then lifted a hand to redirect Aou’s face back to his, murmuring against his lips, “Yes.”

Aou kissed him again, deeper, hungrier than before. Boom ground up against Aou involuntarily and revelled in the way Aou tried - and failed - to bite back a noise. They pulled their shirts off a little awkwardly, smiling, kissing each other every step of the way, pulling pants down just enough and acting shy about it while the boring, shitty movie still played in the background with no one paying attention to it.

“I don’t really know… how to…”

Boom kissed him again, firm and reassuring, then pulled back and smiled at him. “It’s okay.”

He gathered spit, licked his palm, and wrapped it around their dicks, watching Aou’s face as he closed his eyes, biting his bottom lip with a half mumbled curse.

Neither of them lasted long.

But something about the way Aou gripped his shoulder as he came, how he wrapped his arms around his neck and held him close for a few moments afterwards and just breathed, pressing a kiss to Boom’s temple, was enough to undo Boom completely. In that moment, something locked into place inside him.

When it actually happened - properly - it was a night that felt overall unremarkable.

No storm. No dramatic lighting. Just the low hum of the aircon and the faint glow of the city through thin curtains Boom had bought a month ago.

They had been kissing in bed, slow and unhurried, when something shifted.

There was less self-consciousness this time. Less checking.

Boom’s hands slid down Aou’s back, fingertips tracing the curve of his spine. Aou’s mouth moved against his neck, open and warm, drawing a quiet sound from Boom’s throat he hadn’t heard from himself before.

He froze for half a second - startled by his own reaction.

Aou pulled back slightly. “Too much?”

Boom shook his head, breath uneven. “No.”

He reached for Aou again, more deliberate now.

They moved against each other, found a rhythm that made them both breathless and search for more friction. Clothes were removed in pieces, not all at once. A shirt tugged over a head. Pants discarded onto the floor. Fingers catching briefly in fabric. 

“You’re staring,” Boom said.

“Can you blame me?”

Boom couldn’t help but pout, but Aou smiled at him anyway.

Aou’s hand came up, brushing through Boom’s hair. “You’re shaking.”

Boom hadn’t noticed until then.

“I’m not,” he protested weakly.

Aou pressed a kiss to his mouth again, slower, grounding.

There was fumbling. A moment where Boom traced over Aou’s nipples a moment too long, maybe too rough, and Aou gently pulled his hand away, Boom’s cheeks burning until Aou leaned over to grab a condom and a small bottle of lube from the bedside drawer with an amused look.

“Hmm,” Aou said. “You prepared.”

“You think I wasn’t planning?” Boom shot back.

But his hands trembled when he tried to open it, and Aou took over gently.

The first touch that crossed the final boundary made Boom suck in a breath sharply.

It wasn’t smooth or seamless or perfect like in the movies.

There were whispered adjustments. Quiet reassurances. A brief wince that made Aou immediately pull back, panic flashing across his face.

“Shit- are you okay?”

Boom exhaled slowly, nodding. “Yeah… Just- go slow.”

Aou nodded, focusing entirely on him.

Boom had imagined this moment before - abstract, distant. Reality felt closer to the bone.

When they finally found a rhythm, tentative and careful, something in Boom’s chest loosened.

Aou held him close, his hand gripped his shoulder firmly, grounding him. Their foreheads pressed together, breath mingling in the small space between them.

It was intense in a way that surprised Boom - not just sensation, but proximity. The way Aou’s expression shifted, open and unguarded. The way his voice softened when he said Boom’s name under his breath.

The awkwardness didn’t disappear entirely.

At one point, Aou lost his balance slightly and had to catch himself with an elbow against the mattress.

Boom let out a quiet laugh against his neck. “Graceful.”

“Shut up,” Aou murmured, but he was smiling this time.

When they came, it wasn’t explosive. It was gradual, a relief, a homecoming, a comfort.

They stayed close afterward, limbs tangled, breathing slowly returning to normal. Boom traced absent lines across Aou’s chest with his fingertip.

“Well,” he said after a minute.

Aou stared at the ceiling, chest rising and falling unevenly. “Well.”

“So,” Boom said lightly. “How was your first time in Bangkok?”

Aou turned his head slowly, eyes narrowing slightly. “Seriously?”

Boom grinned.

Then Aou’s expression softened.

“Was it okay?” he asked, quieter now.

Aou traced a lazy circle on his shoulder. “Yeah. It was.”

Boom nodded once, processing.

“It wasn’t…” He paused, searching for the word.

“Perfect?” Boom supplied.

Aou considered. “No.”

Boom laughed softly. “Good.”

Aou frowned faintly. “Good?”

“Perfect would be suspicious.”

That earned him a small smile.

“Can I ask you something?” Aou murmured.

“You just did.”

Aou nudged him lightly. “Seriously.”

“Okay.”

“Did you ever feel like you were bad at it? Like… maybe the first time.”

Boom huffed softly. “Absolutely.”

Aou relaxed slightly at that.

“It gets easier, I think,” Boom added. “You learn each other. I don’t know. I never really enjoyed it before.”

Aou was quiet for a long moment.

“I want to be good at it,” he said finally.

Boom tilted his head, looking down at him. “You don’t have to perform.”

“I’m not performing.”

“Then you’re already good.”

Aou didn’t answer verbally.

He just pulled Boom closer, pressing a lingering kiss into his hair.

And Boom, face tucked against Aou’s chest, listened to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat and thought - without panic, without overthinking - that this felt like something worth learning properly.

There was a period of time where everything between them felt easy.

Boom would wake before his alarm sometimes and find Aou already half awake beside him, staring at the ceiling with that quiet expression he wore when he was thinking too much. Boom would shift closer without opening his eyes fully, pressing his forehead against Aou’s skin, breathing him in. Aou would hold him close automatically, fingers threading through Boom’s hair in absent strokes.

The first time Aou failed an exam, he didn’t say anything about it at first.

Boom found out because Aou came home earlier than expected and dropped his backpack beside the couch without his usual commentary about campus food or incompetent group mates. He kicked off his shoes with less precision than usual and stood in the middle of the living room for a second as if he had forgotten why he’d walked in.

Boom was sitting cross legged on the floor, laptop open, half-editing a video project. He glanced up.

“You’re back early,” he said.

Aou nodded once. The air felt heavier around him. Not dramatically, just off by a few degrees.

Boom closed his laptop slowly. “What happened?”

Aou ran a hand through his hair, then looked toward the balcony instead of at Boom.

“I messed up the midterm.”

Boom tilted his head. “Messed up how?”

“Failed.”

The word dropped flat between them.

Boom stood up without thinking and crossed the small space between them. He stopped just short of touching him, giving him a second.

Aou’s jaw tightened slightly. “I thought I understood it.”

“You probably did,” Boom said.

Aou let out a short breath that wasn’t quite a laugh. “That’s not how grades work.”

Boom stepped closer and wrapped his arms around him. Aou resisted for half a second out of habit, then leaned in fully, forehead resting against Boom’s shoulder.

“You’re not stupid,” Boom murmured into his hair.

“I didn’t say I was.”

“You were thinking it.”

Aou’s hand came up slowly, settling at Boom’s waist.

“I hate not being good at something,” he said quietly.

Boom pulled back just enough to look at him. “You’re not bad at it. You messed up once.”

Aou’s expression shifted, the tension in his brow easing slightly.

“Do you want to talk about it,” Boom asked, “or do you want me to distract you with something aggressively stupid?”

Aou considered that. “Aggressively stupid.”

Boom nodded solemnly. “Give me five minutes.”

He disappeared into the kitchen and returned with two bowls of instant noodles and a ridiculous cooking show playing loudly on the TV. He narrated the contestants’ mistakes dramatically until Aou snorted despite himself.

Later that night, when they lay in bed, Aou admitted in a softer voice that he had been scared to tell Boom.

“I didn’t want you to think I’m not trying,” he said.

Boom rolled onto his side, propping himself up on one elbow. “I know when you’re trying.”

Aou studied him for a moment in the dim light.

“You always know everything?” he asked.

“Only about you.”

Aou didn’t smile at that. He just reached up and brushed his fingers along Boom’s cheek, thoughtful and quiet.

Once, they took a cramped bus to the coast, splitting the cost of a cheap guesthouse with thin walls and a balcony that overlooked a tangle of electrical wires and a strip of blue ocean beyond.

Boom insisted on waking up early to watch the sunrise. Aou groaned into his pillow.

“You dragged me here,” Aou muttered. “Let me sleep.”

“It’s romantic,” Boom argued, already pulling on a t-shirt.

Aou cracked one eye open. “Is it?”

Boom paused.

“Okay,” he conceded. “It’s aesthetic.”

Aou sighed dramatically but followed him out onto the balcony.

The air was cool, salt lingering faintly on the breeze. They stood side by side, elbows resting on the railing.

When the sun edged slowly above the water, Boom glanced sideways at Aou.

“See?” he said quietly.

Aou squinted toward the horizon. “It’s bright.”

Boom laughed under his breath.

Later, they walked along the beach barefoot, shoes dangling from their hands. Boom tried to take candid photos of Aou and failed because Aou kept noticing and making faces.

“You’re unbelievable,” Boom said.

“You’re obvious,” Aou replied.

But when Boom finally caught a photo of Aou mid-laugh, hair windswept, eyes half-closed against the light, he felt that same steady drop in his chest as the day they met.

He saved it as his lock screen without telling him.

Time layered itself quietly over those ordinary days.

They celebrated small victories - passed exams, completed projects, internships secured. Aou met Boom’s family - something he was nervous about but ended up being a day filled with warmth, laughter, and more food than either of them could handle.

When Aou’s father ended up in the hospital briefly for minor surgery, Boom took the overnight bus with him back to Khon Kaen without hesitation. He sat beside Aou in the sterile waiting room, fingers intertwined, offering quiet presence rather than speeches.

“You didn’t have to come,” Aou said at one point.

Boom squeezed his hand. “I know.”

That was enough.

Back in Bangkok, life resumed its rhythm.

The apartment slowly filled with shared objects, shared memories. Inside jokes accumulated until they barely needed full sentences to understand each other.

Sometimes, late at night, they would lie awake talking about nothing and everything.

“You think we’ll always live here?” Boom asked once, staring at the ceiling.

Aou considered. “Probably not.”

Boom turned toward him. “Where then?”

Aou shrugged lightly. “Somewhere with better ventilation.”

Boom smiled.

“You’re so romantic,” he teased.

Aou rolled his eyes but reached for him anyway, fingers sliding along Boom’s side until they were pressed together.

When Boom caught the flu during their second year together, it hit him harder than expected. He shivered under layers of blankets, skin hot and clammy, throat raw.

Aou took over the apartment quietly.

He measured out medicine with careful precision, pressed cool cloths to Boom’s forehead, scolded him gently when he tried to get up.

“Stay,” Aou said, hand firm against his shoulder.

Boom blinked up at him through a fever haze. “Bossy.”

“Correct.”

Later, when Aou thought Boom was asleep, he brushed his fingers lightly through Boom’s hair, smoothing it back from his forehead.

Boom kept his eyes closed and let him.

They argued, too.

Not often. Not explosively. But enough to leave small bruises.

The first real fight happened over nothing.

Or at least that’s how it started.

Boom had planned a small anniversary dinner - not a big milestone, just the date they first moved in together. He cooked properly for once, even lit a candle he found in the back of a drawer.

Aou walked in late from work, shoulders tense.

“You didn’t tell me you were cooking,” Aou said, dropping his bag.

“It’s a surprise,” Boom replied, trying to keep his tone light.

Aou glanced at the table, at the candle, then back at Boom. “You didn’t have to do all this.”

Boom’s smile flickered. “I wanted to.”

Aou stepped closer, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek. “It’s nice. Just… you don’t have to try so hard.”

The words landed wrong.

“I’m not trying hard,” Boom said, sharper than intended.

Aou paused. “I didn’t mean-”

“You never plan anything,” Boom cut in, frustration rising unexpectedly. “I do all of it.”

Aou’s expression shifted, defensive now. “That’s not fair.”

“When was the last time you organized something? A date? Anything?”

“I buy you things,” Aou said quietly.

“Gifts aren’t the same as effort.”

The silence that followed was thick.

Aou crossed his arms. “You like planning. You complain when I do it because I’m ‘too practical.’”

Boom opened his mouth, then closed it. “That’s different.”

“How?”

Boom looked away first.

The candle burned between them, wax dripping slowly down the side.

“You don’t have to turn everything into a performance,” Aou said after a moment.

Boom’s chest tightened. “I’m not performing. I just want to feel like you want me.”

Aou blinked, the edge leaving his voice slightly. “I do.”

“Then show it sometimes.”

Aou stepped forward, hands cupping Boom’s face gently.

“I’m here,” he said. “Every day. I’m here.”

Boom’s shoulders sagged slightly.

He knew that was true.

They ate dinner quietly at first, then gradually slipped back into familiar rhythm. Aou reached across the table halfway through and laced their fingers together without comment.

Afterwards, in bed, Boom curled into him, face pressed against his chest.

“You’re clingy,” Aou murmured, voice soft.

“You’re unromantic,” Boom replied.

Aou laughed quietly into his hair.

But the words stayed with both of them.

One evening, the apartment was unusually quiet except for the soft clicking of Boom’s mouse and the faint hum of the aircon.

Boom sat at the small dining table with his laptop open, headphones hanging loosely around his neck. The screen glowed with a timeline full of cut footage - jump cuts, color correction layers, audio tracks stacked unevenly. He leaned forward, squinting slightly, dragging a clip two frames to the left.

Behind him, on the couch, Aou adjusted the tuning pegs on his guitar.

The sound cut through the room gently - a low string tightened, then plucked again.

Boom didn’t turn around.

Aou shifted on the couch, cross-legged, tongue poking out between his lips. He began playing slowly, not a full song - just a progression he had been working on. Something mellow, repetitive. The notes folded into each other without demanding attention.

Boom’s shoulders gradually lowered without him noticing.

He clicked play on his timeline again, watching the footage sync with the music bleeding faintly through the room. For a moment, the guitar accidentally aligned with the pacing of the edit.

He glanced over his shoulder.

“Do that again.”

Aou paused mid-strum. “Do what?”

“That thing you just did. The same melody from just now.”

Aou repeated it.

Boom turned fully in his chair now, studying him. The afternoon light coming through the balcony caught in Aou’s hair, softened the sharpness of his profile.

“Slower,” Boom said.

Aou raised an eyebrow but obliged.

Boom turned back around and hit play on his video again, letting Aou’s music fill the quiet apartment instead of the temporary soundtrack he had listened to earlier.

They stayed like that for several minutes - Boom editing, Aou playing, neither speaking.

After a little while, Boom turned around once more, relaxed now, just watching Aou. At one point, Aou looked up.

“You’re staring,” he said.

“I’m working,” Boom replied automatically.

“You turned your chair around.”

Boom blinked, then glanced over his shoulder at his laptop, where the screen had gone dark.

“I’m multitasking.”

Aou’s mouth curved faintly. He shifted chords again, softer this time.

Boom watched the movement of his fingers - the precise press of calloused tips against strings, the way his wrist bent naturally. There was something grounding about it. 

“Play something dramatic,” Boom said.

“I don’t know anything dramatic.”

“You absolutely do.”

Aou considered, then began a slower melody, something minor and almost wistful. Boom leaned back in his chair, letting it wash over him.

“You know,” he said after a minute, “this is unfair.”

“How?”

“You get to have a skill that makes you attractive without trying.”

Aou didn’t look up from the fretboard. “Editing doesn’t count?”

“No one has ever said ‘wow, that jump cut was sexy.’”

Aou’s shoulders shook faintly with quiet laughter. Boom closed his eyes for a second, listening.

When the song ended, Aou let the last note ring out, then looked up at Boom with a smile.

Boom opened his eyes slowly.

“Okay,” he said. “Marry me.”

Aou snorted. “You hate weddings.”

“True.”

Boom straightened, turning back to his laptop once more to continue editing.

“Play again,” he said.

And Aou did.

They were sprawled across the couch late one night, half-watching a series neither of them admitted to liking that much.

Boom lay stretched out, head resting in Aou’s lap. Aou absentmindedly combed his fingers through Boom’s hair while scrolling occasionally on his phone during slower scenes.

On screen, a new character was introduced - tall, broad-shouldered, annoyingly charismatic.

Boom tilted his head slightly to look up at Aou.

“Okay,” he said. “He’s your type.”

Aou glanced at the TV, then back down at Boom. “Which one?”

“The walking ego in the leather jacket.”

Aou considered him. “He’s fine.”

“Fine?” Boom scoffed. “You’re smiling.”

“I smile at everyone.”

“That’s a lie.”

Aou’s hand paused briefly in Boom’s hair. “You’re dramatic.”

Boom shifted upright, turning so he could see both Aou and the TV.

“Objectively,” Boom continued, pointing at the screen, “he’s attractive. I’ll allow it.”

“You’ll allow it?” Aou echoed.

“I’m generous.”

Aou hummed in acknowledgment.

A few scenes later, a female character entered - confident, dressed in trendy clothes, the camera lingering on her in a way that made it clear she was meant to be noticed.

Aou straightened slightly.

Boom noticed.

“Oh,” Boom said lightly. “We’ve shifted demographics.”

Aou didn’t deny it.

“She’s hot,” he said simply.

Boom watched him instead of the screen.

“You always say that about women,” he said, tone teasing.

“I do not.”

“You do.”

Aou thought for a second. “They’re well-cast.”

“That’s not the same thing.”

Boom’s voice remained playful, but something in his chest tightened just slightly.

Aou nudged him with his knee. “You’re attractive too.”

“That wasn’t the question.”

Aou glanced at him, amused. “Are you jealous of people on tv now?”

“Only selectively.”

Aou’s fingers resumed their slow path through Boom’s hair.

“She’s objectively attractive,” Aou added after a moment, as if clarifying a technical point. “It’s not that deep.”

Boom nodded, eyes returning to the TV.

“Sure,” he said.

The episode continued. Boom made another comment about a different male actor’s jawline. Aou agreed casually.

But Boom catalogued the difference anyway.

When it came to men, Aou’s approval was brief. Analytical. Detached. When it came to women, there was a flicker - a longer glance, a slight shift forward.

Boom rested his head back in Aou’s lap and told himself not to read into it. Aou’s fingers moved gently through his hair again, grounding and familiar.

On screen, the female character laughed at something, head thrown back confidently.

Aou smiled faintly.

Boom kept his eyes on the TV this time, his expression easy, his voice light when he said, “Okay, but if you ever leave me for a leather jacket, at least pick one with good taste.”

Aou huffed softly. “You’re not that replaceable.”

The years moved forward without ceremony.

Graduation came and went with awkward photos and ill-fitting gowns. They started working at the same company eventually - different departments, different floors, meeting for lunch in the cafeteria like a quiet secret.

Sometimes, when Aou walked into a room and their eyes met across it, Boom still felt that same shift he had felt at the BTS station years ago.

They still walked to 7-Eleven late at night. Still argued about snacks.

They still made out in the kitchen sometimes, though less often.

Comfort had replaced urgency.

Boom would sometimes watch Aou from across the room - focused on a project, jaw set, brow furrowed - and feel a familiar warmth spread through him.

He loved this. The ordinary of it.

The shared towels. The half folded laundry. The way Aou always left one cabinet slightly open.

And for a long while, that felt like more than enough.

Six years passed by like that.

Two alarm clocks set five minutes apart. Two sets of clothes hanging side by side in the narrow closet - Boom’s softer fabrics and layered accessories pressed next to Aou’s crisp shirts in muted colors. Two company ID cards resting in a small ceramic dish by the door.

The couch cushions held the shape of their bodies. The kitchen drawer knew exactly where Aou kept the spare batteries. Boom could find his own socks in the dark because he had learned the geography of clutter the way other people learned street maps. A second set of keys hung on the hook by the door, metal clicking softly every time one of them came in late.

They left the apartment for work together most mornings, walking the short stretch to the BTS, shoulders occasionally brushing without either of them noticing.

At the office, they became separate people.

Boom was louder there - collaborative, animated in meetings, fingers flying across his keyboard as he cut footage and pitched concepts. Aou moved more quietly through his department, measured in his words, steady in presentations.

Sometimes they met in the cafeteria for lunch. Sometimes they didn’t.

There was no single moment where either of them stopped noticing the way the other looked across a room. No dramatic night where something shattered. It was more like sediment settling at the bottom of a glass - gradual, almost invisible, until one day the water looked different.

They still said “I love you” every day.

Before work. Before sleep. On the phone. Sometimes just because.

It was never withheld. Never weaponized.

But it had become part of the structure - like brushing teeth or locking the door. Words to fill the silence between conversations.

Boom noticed it one evening when Aou came home later than usual, shoulders tense from work.

“I love you,” Aou said automatically while loosening his tie.

Boom paused in the kitchen, knife hovering over a half-chopped onion.

“You didn’t even look at me,” he said lightly.

Aou glanced up, confused. “I’m looking now.”

Boom smiled. “I’m joking.”

He finished chopping the onion.

He wasn’t entirely joking.

Another evening, Boom came home later than usual, shoulders tight from a long edit session. The apartment lights were already on. The smell of garlic drifted faintly from the kitchen. Aou stood at the stove, sleeves rolled to his elbows, stirring something with focused attention.

“You’re late,” Aou said without turning around.

“You’re cooking,” Boom replied, slipping off his shoes.

“It’s Thursday.”

Boom paused.

Right. Thursday was the day Aou tried new recipes.

Boom stepped into the kitchen and wrapped his arms loosely around Aou’s waist from behind, resting his chin between his shoulder blades.

“Smells good,” he murmured.

Aou leaned back slightly into the contact. “Don’t distract me.”

Boom pressed a light kiss to the back of his neck anyway. Aou didn’t pull away. He just kept stirring.

They ate at the small dining table, knees occasionally touching beneath it. Aou asked about Boom’s project. Boom asked about a client presentation. The conversation flowed easily. Familiar, predictable, like always.

Later, they moved to the couch, a show playing softly in the background. Boom curled into Aou’s side automatically, head resting on his shoulder.

“I love you,” Boom said absently during a quiet scene.

“I know,” Aou replied, then after a second added, “I love you too.”

Boom smiled faintly.

He noticed - distantly - that they hadn’t kissed properly in months. He couldn’t remember the last time they made out.

Not the quick pecks before work or the brief brush of lips when one of them left the apartment. He meant the kind that required attention - breath shared, tongue parting lips.

He told himself it was normal. The honeymoon phase doesn’t last forever. It was probably exhaustion. Work did that.

The gifts never stopped.

On Boom’s birthday, Aou surprised him with a framed photo from a trip they had taken to Japan two years back - a candid picture of Aou. Boom had taken it secretly.

“I thought you were mad at me for taking this,” Boom asked, surprised.

Aou shrugged lightly. “I liked how you were looking at me.”

Boom’s throat tightened. 

Aou grinned. “I notice things too.”

They hugged in the middle of the living room, arms tight. For a second, Boom felt that old heat again. Then it faded back into something steady.

Their physical intimacy thinned gradually. It wasn’t dramatic. There was no definitive moment where they consciously stopped. They still changed in front of each other. Still brushed shoulders in the hallway. Still fell asleep in the same bed.

But the heat had cooled into something calm.

Some nights, Boom would shift closer under the blanket, pressing his thigh against Aou’s.

Aou would hum softly, arm draping around him in response.

But it didn’t escalate.

He stared at the ceiling long after Aou’s breathing evened out beside him.

He read articles about it on his phone at night, scrolling through advice columns while Aou slept beside him.

Reignite the spark.

Plan intentional date nights.

Communicate openly.

So he tried.

They lay in bed one night with the aircon humming and the city glowing faintly through the curtains.

Aou scrolled through his phone on his side, the lamp on his bedside table still on.

Boom lay on his back, staring at the ceiling.

The distance between them wasn’t physical. Their knees still brushed under the sheet when one of them shifted. Their legs still tangled sometimes out of habit.

The distance lived somewhere else.

Boom turned his head slightly. “Do you want me?” he asked, half joking, half not.

Aou didn’t look up. “What?”

Boom exhaled softly through his nose. “I’m kidding.”

Aou glanced at him then, eyes steady. “Why would you ask like that?”

Boom shrugged one shoulder. “Because you don’t really… touch me like before.”

Aou’s gaze stayed on him, thoughtful. “I touch you.”

Boom wanted to laugh. Wanted to point out that yes, Aou touched him the way you touched someone you loved as family, the way you touched someone you were used to. Hugs. Forehead kisses. A hand on a shoulder. A squeeze at the knee.

He wanted the other kind.

He wanted Aou’s mouth on his neck again, the way it used to make his thoughts blur.

He didn’t say any of that.

Instead, he kept his tone soft. “Not like before.”

Aou locked his phone and put it on the bedside table. “Work’s been… a lot.”

“I know.”

Aou shifted closer slightly, arm draping across Boom’s stomach in a familiar gesture. It was a hold, not a pull. Boom’s body responded automatically, relaxing into the contact because he still loved him, because it still felt like home.

Aou’s voice softened. “I love you.”

Boom kept staring at the ceiling, then turned his head and pressed a quick kiss to Aou’s hair.

“I love you too,” he said, and meant it.

Aou’s arm tightened briefly, then loosened again as he settled.

Boom suggested dinner reservations. Movie nights. Weekend trips.

Aou agreed to most of it, smiling faintly, appreciative but not enthusiastic.

On one of those planned date nights, Boom dressed slightly nicer than usual - a fitted shirt, subtle cologne. He caught his reflection in the mirror before leaving and adjusted his collar twice.

At the restaurant, Aou looked at him across the table and said, “You look good.”

Boom’s chest warmed immediately.

“Yeah?” he asked lightly.

“Yeah.”

But the compliment felt observational, not charged.

They talked about work. About rent increases. About a colleague who had resigned unexpectedly.

On the way home, Boom slipped his hand into Aou’s. Aou laced their fingers together without hesitation.

Comfort.

Always comfort.

Back in the apartment, Boom leaned in for a kiss.

Aou responded, gentle but restrained.

Boom deepened it slightly, testing.

Aou’s hand rested at his waist, but didn’t pull him closer.

For a second, it felt like the old days, when physical closeness was constant, when Aou’s arms around him meant more than comfort, when he couldn’t count the amount of kisses like this they would have in a week.

Then Aou pulled back naturally, like the kiss had been a completed exchange, a fulfilled, successful transaction.

“I think a new episode of that one trashy show is out, do you wanna catch it before bed?”

Boom kept his smile in place and didn’t let his hands linger too long. “Sure.”

They watched the episode in relative quiet - Aou more focused than Boom, both of them on opposite ends of the couch tucked against the respective arm of it.

At one point, Aou made a small sound of appreciation under his breath when an pretty actress appeared on screen..

Boom’s gaze slid toward him. “Here we go.”

Aou didn’t look away from the tv. “What.”

“You’re doing the thing.”

“What thing.”

Boom pointed at him. “The micro-lean. The interest. The admiration.”

Aou’s mouth curved faintly. “She’s attractive.”

“I know,” Boom said lightly. “You’ve informed me.”

Aou finally glanced at him, expression calm but not defensive. “Are you jealous again?”

“Again,” Boom repeated with mock offense. “I’m not jealous. I’m conducting research.”

Aou’s eyes narrowed slightly, amused. “Research into what.”

“Into whether your type includes every woman wearing a crop top.”

Aou huffed a laugh and leaned back into the couch. “Your type includes every man with cheeks you want to squeeze.”

“That’s not even true. And if it were, it would be just called having good taste.”

“That’s called double standards.”

Boom made a face. “You’re rude.”

Aou stuck his tongue out at him, then smiled. “You’re fine.”

The words should have comforted him. Instead, they landed with a dull thud in his chest. You’re fine. Not you’re gorgeous. Not I want you. Not anything with heat.

Boom kept his grin. “I’m fine. Great. Fantastic. Absolutely a stable product.”

Aou’s hand reached over and squeezed Boom’s knee, a grounding gesture, affectionate in a quiet way. Boom felt himself soften slightly despite his own resistance.

Then the show shifted. A male character appeared, shirt half-unbuttoned, leaning against a doorway like he had been styled by a marketing team.

Boom rolled his eyes. “Now, what the hell is this guy.”

Aou glanced at the screen. “He looks like he over-moisturizes.”

“He probably has a routine.”

Aou’s mouth curved. “You would hate him.”

“I would bully him.”

“You’d flirt with him.”

Boom clutched his chest. “I would never.”

Aou’s eyes held his for a second longer than the joke required. “Mm.”

Boom wanted to lean in and kiss Aou mid-laugh, the way he used to. He wanted to feel Aou’s mouth against his and know there was still hunger there, not just affection that looked like friendship.

Instead, he adjusted his position on the couch and kept the tone light.

Weeks passed.

The comments slipped out occasionally, always in a tone that suggested harmless speculation.

“Sometimes I think I locked in too early,” Aou said once while scrolling through social media.

Boom kept his eyes on his laptop. “Locked in?”

“You know. I met you at nineteen.”

“That’s ancient.”

Aou huffed faintly. “I just mean… I didn’t really experience anything else.”

Boom closed his laptop slowly.

“Do you want to?” he asked.

Aou looked up, startled slightly by the directness.

“I don’t know,” he said honestly.

That was worse than a no.

Boom forced a small smile. “You’re not missing much.”

“You would say that.”

“I have data.”

Aou studied him for a moment, as if trying to gauge something beneath the joke.

“It’s not about you,” he said quietly.

Boom nodded. Of course it wasn’t, but that didn’t stop it from feeling like it was.

It wasn’t until a week later, lying in bed with the lights off and the city humming faintly outside, that Aou said it.

“I had lunch with my old high school friend today.”

Boom made a soft noise of acknowledgment, half asleep.

“She’s engaged,” Aou continued.

Boom opened one eye. “That’s fast.”

“Not really. We’re almost twenty-five.”

Boom hummed. There was a pause.

“She asked if I’d ever dated a girl,” Aou said, voice even. “Or anyone else.”

The But you was implied.

Boom stilled slightly under the blanket.

“And?” he asked, aiming for neutral.

“I said no.”

Silence stretched between them.

“Did she think that was weird?” Boom asked.

Aou shifted onto his back, staring at the ceiling. “She said I skipped a chapter.”

The words landed lightly, almost joking.

Boom let out a small breath. “You didn’t skip anything.”

Aou was quiet for a few seconds.

“Sometimes I wonder,” he said.

Boom turned his head fully now. “Wonder what?”

“I feel like I… missed that phase. Dating around. Making mistakes. Figuring out what you like.

Boom kept his voice even. “You dated me.”

Aou smiled faintly. “Yeah.”

The smile didn’t land quite right.

“You’re not a phase,” Aou added quickly. “I just mean… I went from zero to five… almost six-year-relationship.”

Boom laughed softly. “Efficient.”

Aou didn’t laugh back this time.

Boom forced a small smile. “You think you missed out on something groundbreaking?”

“I don’t know,” Aou admitted. “Sometimes I just think about it.”

“About women.”

“About… experience.”

Boom felt something tighten in his chest - not sharp enough to call pain, but distinct.

“So you’re missing out,” he repeated, careful.

Aou’s shoulders lifted slightly. “Maybe. It’s not like I’m unhappy. It’s just… a thought.”

Boom nodded, pretending the nod didn’t cost him anything. He kept his face neutral, even as a part of him flinched at the idea of Aou with someone else, the way the image made his stomach twist. He leaned into humor because it was safer.

“So what,” Boom said lightly, “you want to add ‘woman’ to your résumé? Collect genders like Pokémon?”

Aou’s mouth curved faintly, relief easing his features. “Ha ha. Very funny.”

“I’m trying to make this not terrifying.”

Aou’s gaze softened. He leaned closer, fingers brushing Boom’s cheek. “Boom.”

Boom swallowed. “Yeah?”

Aou hesitated, then kissed his forehead. It was gentle. It should have calmed him. Instead, it made something in him sag. The kind of kiss someone gave a relative, or a child, or a dog.

Aou pulled back, expression searching. “You’re okay?”

Boom forced a smile. “Yeah. I’m fine.”

Aou studied him, then nodded, accepting the answer because accepting answers was one of Aou’s coping mechanisms.

Then he went to sleep. Boom stayed awake for a long time that night.

It happened like that again. And again.

Boom would gather courage in small increments. Sometimes it was casual.

“Come here,” he’d murmur from the couch, tugging Aou closer.

Sometimes it was more direct.

“Can we make out?” he asked once, voice deliberately light, like he was suggesting takeout.

Aou blinked at him from across the bed.

“Right now?”

“Is that weird?”

“No.” Aou shifted closer. “No, it’s not weird.”

They kissed. It wasn’t bad. It just wasn’t passionate, urgent, heated.

Boom felt himself trying - adjusting angles, deepening it, pulling Aou into his lap. Aou responded, but there was a slight delay each time, like he was catching up rather than initiating. It was… awkward, somehow. Like clothes that used to fit you perfectly and don’t anymore.

After a minute, Aou pulled back and rested his forehead against Boom’s.

“I’ll try more,” he said quietly.

Boom swallowed.

“Okay.”

But trying never turned into doing.

Work became heavier. Aou came home with dark circles under his eyes, shoulders stiff from long hours and tense meetings. He scrolled more in bed. Slept facing away sometimes. Told Boom he wanted to spend more time alone to read or play guitar or go for a walk.

Boom tried to be understanding.

He brought home Aou’s favorite snacks. Left notes on the fridge again, small things like Eat lunch and You’re still annoying.

Aou smiled at them.

He still said “I love you.”

He still bought Boom thoughtful gifts. A book by an author Boom had mentioned once. A new external hard drive after Boom complained about storage space.

The love was there.

But something else wasn’t.

One night, after Aou had fallen asleep mid-scroll, phone still in his hand, Boom carefully removed it and placed it on the bedside table.

He lay back down and stared at Aou’s profile in the dim light.

He tried to remember the last time Aou had kissed him without being asked.

He couldn’t.

The thought lodged somewhere uncomfortable.

“Friday,” Boom said one Tuesday evening, leaning against the kitchen counter while Aou rinsed rice in the sink. “No work talk. No phones. Just us.”

Aou glanced over his shoulder. “Is this a meeting?”

“It’s a date.”

Aou’s mouth curved faintly. “We live together.”

“That’s not the same.”

Aou turned off the tap. “Okay. Friday.”

Boom smiled like he’d secured something important.

Friday came. Boom made a reservation at a place they’d never tried - soft lighting, overpriced cocktails, music just loud enough to feel intentional. When Aou stepped out of the bedroom in a navy button-up, sleeves rolled, Boom’s chest tightened in a way that felt familiar and hopeful.

“You look good,” Boom said.

Aou nodded once. “You too.”

The words landed flat but not unkind.

Dinner was fine. They talked. They laughed at the right times. They split a dessert neither of them finished. Boom reached across the table halfway through and laced their fingers together. Aou squeezed back automatically.

On the walk home, Boom slid his hand into Aou’s back pocket briefly, an old habit. Aou didn’t move away.

Back in the apartment, Boom turned toward him in the hallway, heart thudding just slightly.

“Stay,” he said quietly, before Aou could drift toward the bathroom or the couch.

Aou paused. Boom stepped closer and kissed him.

Slow at first. Intentional.

Aou responded - lips parting, hand settling at Boom’s waist. Boom deepened it carefully, pressing him gently back against the wall.

For a second, it felt like muscle memory. Like something might wake up.

Boom’s hand slid up into Aou’s hair. He kissed him harder. Aou’s breath hitched.

Then - not abruptly, but subtly - Aou pulled back.

“I have an early call tomorrow,” he said, almost apologetic.

Boom’s hands lingered at his waist for half a second too long before he let go.

“Right,” he said lightly. “Of course.”

Aou pressed a quick kiss to his cheek.

“I had a good time tonight,” he added.

Boom smiled. “Me too.”

He lay awake that night, staring at Aou’s back and listening to his even breathing.

Boom started keeping a list on his phone, the kind he didn’t show anyone because it made him feel faintly ridiculous.

Things we can do that aren’t just collapsing on the couch:

• dinner somewhere that doesn’t have fluorescent lighting
• walk along the canal path, no phones
• that small cinema near Siam, the one with the seats that recline
• day trip, no “we should” - just “we did”
• kiss like we mean it, at least once a week

He stared at the list on the BTS ride home, thumb hovering over the screen while the train rocked gently and the city blurred outside the window. He deleted the last bullet point, then added it back, then locked his phone as if the device had offended him.

At the office, he could be sharp, funny, efficient. His projects were clean. His ideas came quickly. People laughed at his jokes in meetings, and he laughed back, a little louder than necessary.

Then he came home and watched himself become someone smaller.

Aou was already in the apartment when Boom arrived that evening, shoes neatly aligned by the door, tie loosened, sleeves rolled, his laptop open on the dining table like a second roommate. The air smelled faintly of soy sauce and reheated rice. Aou looked up when Boom entered, eyes tired but attentive.

“You’re home,” Aou said.

Boom forced brightness into his voice. “Unfortunately.”

Aou’s mouth curved faintly. “Bad day?”

“Long day,” Boom corrected, slipping off his shoes.

Aou pushed his laptop slightly aside. “Dinner’s in the fridge.”

Boom walked to the kitchen and opened the fridge. Two containers. One labeled in Aou’s careful handwriting. Boom’s name, underlined.

Something in his chest warmed and tightened at the same time.

He heated the food, ate standing at the counter for a minute, then carried the plate to the table. Aou had returned to his laptop. The glow cast a pale band of light across his cheekbone.

“You can eat with me,” Boom said, trying to sound casual.

“I already ate,” Aou replied, eyes still on the screen. “Client call ran late.”

Boom nodded, chewing slowly.

They existed like this a lot lately. Together in the same space, functioning in parallel. The apartment still held their routines, their shared objects, their familiar sounds. The click of Aou’s keyboard. The hum of the aircon. The occasional distant rattle of the BTS.

Boom stared at the back of Aou’s hand resting near the trackpad, fingers long and steady. He remembered those same fingers sliding under his shirt years ago, warm and exploratory. The memory wasn’t sharp enough to cut, but it made his throat feel tight.

“Are you working again tomorrow?” Boom asked.

Aou didn’t look up. “Yeah. Probably.”

“It’s Saturday.”

“I know.”

Boom took a breath, slow and careful.

“Do you want to do something this weekend?” he asked.

Aou’s typing paused. He glanced up, expression neutral but not unkind.

“Like what?”

Boom’s phone list flashed through his mind like a menu he didn’t know how to order from.

“There’s that place you liked,” Boom said. “The one with the grilled chicken and the sticky rice that you pretended you didn’t like and then ate half my plate.”

Aou blinked once, then a faint smile appeared, quick and small. “You’re still offended.”

“It was theft,” Boom said. “Legally.”

Aou huffed softly, then leaned back in his chair. His shoulders sank as if gravity had been waiting for permission.

“I’m really tired,” he said.

Boom nodded immediately, too fast. “Okay. Another time.”

Aou held his gaze for a second longer than necessary. “Boom.”

“I’m not upset,” Boom said, and heard himself say it in the tone he used when he was lying politely.

Aou’s eyes softened. He reached across the table and touched Boom’s wrist briefly, a light anchor.

“We can do something next weekend,” Aou said. “I promise.”

Boom smiled, a careful shape. “You always promise.”

Aou withdrew his hand, not abruptly, but like someone closing a drawer.

“I mean it,” Aou added.

Boom nodded again, swallowing.

The conversation ended there because neither of them knew how to continue without making it heavier.

Later, they sat on the couch with a show playing. Boom tried to focus on the plot but kept tracking Aou instead, the way Aou leaned back into the cushion, the way his eyes stayed on the screen but didn’t look fully engaged, the way his phone sat face down on his thigh like a habit he was trying to resist.

Boom shifted closer until their shoulders touched. Aou didn’t move away. He never moved away. Boom rested his head lightly on Aou’s shoulder.

“I love you,” Boom said, because he said it every day, because saying it felt safer than asking for proof.

Aou’s hand came up and rested on Boom’s hair, fingers threading through gently.

“I know,” Aou replied. “I love you too.”

Boom closed his eyes.

It was an unremarkable day in early January that changed everything. 

Boom had been planning the night since Tuesday.

Not in a dramatic way, not with candles and rehearsed speeches, but with the careful, quiet logistics of someone trying to prove a point without saying it out loud. He made a reservation at a small restaurant Aou had once mentioned liking because the lighting was dim enough that people didn’t feel obligated to perform happiness, and because the menu had exactly three dishes Aou trusted. He booked it for 7:30pm, late enough that Aou could finish work without rushing, early enough that Boom wouldn’t spend the whole evening staring at the clock.

At 6:45pm, he stood in the bathroom and adjusted his collar twice anyway.

The mirror showed a version of himself that looked fine, in a practical sense. Hair tamed. Skin clear enough. Shirt that fit properly. A watch on his wrist that Aou had given him two birthdays ago, still clean, still ticking.

He looked like someone with a stable life.

He looked like someone who shouldn’t feel like this.

From the living room, Aou’s keys clicked on the hook by the door.

Boom heard the familiar shuffle of shoes, the soft exhale that always came when Aou stepped out of office air and into home air, as if the apartment’s smallness allowed him to set something down.

“Hey,” Aou called, voice slightly muffled as he loosened his tie and toed off his shoes.

Boom stepped out of the bathroom, aiming for casual.

“Hey,” he replied.

Aou glanced up. He looked tired in that particular way Boom had started recognizing over the last year - not just sleepy, but compressed, as if he’d spent the day holding his shoulders a fraction too high. His hair had come loose from its neat shape, a few strands falling across his forehead. He carried his laptop bag like it weighed more than usual.

“You’re dressed nice,” Aou observed.

Boom smiled lightly. “We have a reservation.”

Aou blinked once, then nodded. “Right. Tonight.”

The pause before the word tonight was small. Boom caught it anyway, the way he caught everything now, as if he’d become a human seismograph for Aou’s interest.

“Go change,” Boom said. “We can leave in fifteen.”

Aou’s mouth curved faintly, apologetic. “Give me ten. I just need to shower real quick.”

“Take your time.”

Aou disappeared into the bedroom, leaving a faint trail of cologne and office air behind him. The apartment settled into its usual hum - refrigerator, aircon, distant traffic. Boom walked to the kitchen and poured himself a glass of water he didn’t actually want.

He watched his own hands on the countertop, the way his fingers tapped once, twice, without rhythm.

Negotiation, he thought. That was what this had become.

Not love, not desire, not even anger. Just a constant negotiation with invisible terms.

If we go out more, maybe he’ll come back to me. If I give him space, maybe he’ll miss me. If I don’t ask too often, maybe he’ll want me without being prompted.

His phone buzzed on the counter.

A message from his old college friends in a group chat: Who’s free this weekend? Save, Mix, Ice, and Prim are back in town!

Boom didn’t reply. He stared at the text until the screen dimmed.

Aou emerged from the bedroom in a clean shirt, hair still damp. He looked better immediately, as if the shower had rinsed some of the day off his skin. He grabbed his wallet and keys with efficient movements, then paused when Boom didn’t move right away.

“You okay?” Aou asked.

Boom’s smile arrived automatically. “Yeah. Just hungry.”

Aou nodded, accepting the answer the way he always did now. Boom followed him out of the apartment, locking the door behind them.

They walked to the BTS station in the warm evening air, Bangkok lit up in familiar layers - street vendors, headlights, neon signs reflecting off damp pavement. The city was noisy, but Boom had lived inside that noise for so long that silence felt more threatening.

At the station, Aou stood beside him on the platform, arms close enough that the backs of their hands were almost touching. Boom leaned slightly into the space, testing.

Aou didn’t lean away.

That small allowance gave Boom a brief, stupid surge of hope.

On the train, they stood close, hands around the same pole, bodies swaying gently with the motion. Boom watched Aou’s profile, the shape of his mouth when he listened to the announcements, the way his eyes tracked exits and station names. Over six years of knowing him had made these details feel like property, and lately that fact had started to feel like a problem.

At the restaurant, the host led them to a small table near the wall. Aou sat across from Boom, posture relaxing slightly as he scanned the menu.

“This place is nice,” Aou said.

Boom felt an immediate, ridiculous relief at the approval. “I remembered you liked it.”

Aou looked up, gaze steady. “I do.”

The conversation at first was easy. Work complaints. A colleague who kept sending passive-aggressive emails. A client who wanted impossible edits. They laughed at the right moments, their timing still perfect, their inside language still intact.

Boom watched Aou’s mouth when he smiled and tried not to think about how long it had been since that mouth had been on his.

Halfway through the meal, Boom reached across the table and rested his fingers on Aou’s wrist. Aou glanced down at the contact, then back up. He didn’t pull away. His thumb brushed lightly over Boom’s knuckles - a quiet acknowledgment, affectionate, almost absent.

Boom swallowed.

“So,” Boom said casually, “we should do this more.”

Aou’s eyebrow lifted slightly. “Eat?”

Boom snorted. “Exist outside the apartment. Pretend we’re a couple instead of co-workers with a shared lease.”

Aou’s mouth curved, but something in his eyes shifted. He picked up his fork again, a small delay.

“We are a couple,” Aou said, a teasing note in his voice, “Were you diagnosed with amnesia and this is how you’re breaking it to me?”

Boom nodded, trying to keep the heaviness out of his voice, but ignoring Aou’s joke, not following it up the way he used to. “I know. I’m just saying.”

Aou ate a bite slowly, thinking.

“I’ve been really exhausted,” he said finally. “Work and all that.”

“I know,” Boom said again, softer this time.

The words between them started to tangle. Boom could feel it. He tried to steer the conversation back toward lightness, toward humor, toward anything that wouldn’t crack open the thing he’d been holding shut for months.

It worked, for a while.

They finished dinner. They shared dessert. Aou insisted on paying, even though Boom had planned to.

On the walk back to the BTS, Aou slipped his hand into Boom’s like he always did, fingers lacing together easily. Boom looked down at their hands, at how natural it still was, and felt a sting behind his ribs that had nothing to do with sweetness.

Hand-holding was easy.

Everything else - spending time together, showing affection, taking initiative - felt like asking for permission.

Back at the apartment, Aou kicked off his shoes and headed straight for the kitchen to pour a glass of water. Boom watched him move through the space like someone who belonged there completely - because he did.

Boom followed him, leaning against the counter.

“Thanks for tonight,” Aou said, taking a sip.

Boom nodded. “Mm.”

Aou glanced at him. “You’re quiet again.”

Boom forced a small laugh. “Am I?”

“Yeah.”

Boom’s chest tightened.

He could keep doing this. He could keep swallowing it down, keep scheduling dinners, keep reading articles, keep pretending the absence of romantic affection was just a phase and not an entire weather system moving in.

He could keep doing it until he disappeared completely or until he hated Aou - which was the part that scared him most.

Boom inhaled slowly. “Can we talk?”

Aou’s face shifted almost imperceptibly, the way it always did when Boom used that tone. Attentive. Slightly wary.

“Okay,” Aou said.

They moved to the couch without formally deciding to. The same couch where they had watched shows for years, where they had made out until their mouths were swollen, where they had once whispered stupid jokes into each other’s skin because it felt like there was endless time.

Now they sat with space between them, not because either of them chose it deliberately, but because their bodies had started defaulting to distance.

Boom stared at the tv screen even though it was off, reflecting faint shapes of the room. He could see their silhouettes in it. 

He had rehearsed this in his head more times than he could count. In the shower. On commutes. In the half-awake space before sleep, where thoughts ran cruel and honest.

He had imagined himself being calm, mature, reasonable, collected.

Now his mouth felt dry.

“I miss you,” Boom said, and immediately hated how small it sounded.

Aou blinked. “I’m here.”

“I know.” Boom swallowed. “That’s the problem. You’re here and I still miss you.”

Aou’s gaze stayed on him, steady and quiet. He didn’t interrupt. Boom let out a breath, shaky at the edges.

“It feels like we’re roommates,” Boom continued. “Good roommates. Best friends. Partners in… rent and groceries and Netflix.”

Aou’s mouth curved faintly at the mention of Netflix, but his eyes stayed serious.

“And I love that,” Boom added quickly. “I do. I love you. I love this life. I love that I know how you take your coffee and that you buy the brand of rice I like even when it’s more expensive.”

Aou’s expression softened slightly. Boom’s throat tightened.

“But I’m lonely,” Boom said. “I’m lonely in my own relationship.”

Aou’s jaw moved once, as if he were chewing on a response. “Is this about sex?”

Boom laughed under his breath, not amused. “It’s not only about sex. It’s about… our relationship being more like roommates than boyfriends.”

Aou nodded slowly, trying to understand. 

Boom stared at him. “Do you want me?”

Aou’s eyebrows lifted slightly, as if Boom had asked something impolite.

“Of course I do,” Aou said.

Boom waited.

Aou held his gaze. “I’m just… tired.”

Boom’s chest tightened, familiar frustration rising like heat.

“You’re always tired,” Boom said softly. “That’s not what this is about.”

Aou’s eyes flickered downward for a second, then back up.

“Work’s been… heavy,” Aou said. “You know that.”

“I do know,” Boom replied. “I’ve been patient. I’ve been understanding. I’ve been trying not to be annoying and clingy.”

Aou’s mouth twitched. “You’re always a little annoying and clingy.”

Boom almost smiled. Almost.

“I’ve been trying,” Boom said. “I’m not saying you’re not trying,” Boom added quickly, like he was already defending Aou from an accusation he hadn’t made. “I just-”

He stopped, recalibrated, because the old habit of overexplaining had started to feel like begging.

Aou waited, not impatient, just present.

“But I’ve been trying,” Boom repeated once more, voice quieter now. “I plan dates. I try to give you space. I suggest trips. I try to make the apartment feel less like a waiting room.”

Aou’s brow furrowed faintly. “A waiting room.”

Boom nodded. “Like we’re waiting for something to start again.”

Aou leaned back slightly, exhaling. He rubbed a hand over his face, palm dragging down slowly as if smoothing exhaustion into place.

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” Aou said.

Boom’s pulse quickened.

“I want you to want me,” Boom said, and his voice cracked on the last word. He hated that. He cleared his throat quickly. “I want you to look at me and feel something. Not just… comfort.”

Aou’s gaze sharpened. “I do feel something.”

Boom looked at him. “Then where is it?”

Aou looked away first, eyes sliding toward the dark balcony door. The silence stretched. Boom’s stomach twisted.

This was the part he always hit - the wall. The place where Aou went quiet, where Boom filled the air with words until he felt pathetic.

Aou spoke without looking at him.

“I feel like I’m failing you,” Aou said quietly.

Boom’s throat tightened again, but he forced himself to keep his voice steady.

“I’m not asking you to pass a test,” Boom replied. 

Aou finally looked back. His eyes were tired, but there was something else there too. Something stuck.

“I am showing up,” Aou said. “I come home. I do the chores. I ask you about your day. I hold you when you’re stressed. I buy you gifts that you pretend you don’t care about and then keep forever.”

Boom’s mouth opened, then closed.

Aou wasn’t wrong.

“That’s love,” Aou said, and his voice was firmer now. “That is me showing up.”

“I know we live together,” Boom replied, voice steady only because he was concentrating so hard on keeping it that way. “I know we talk. I know you buy me gifts and take care of me and do chores and you remember things and you hold my hand and you… you show up. You’re here.”

Aou sat back, shoulders rigid now. “But you think I’m not trying.”

“I think you say you’ll try,” Boom corrected, voice quieter. “And then nothing changes.”

Aou didn’t move, but his eyes stayed on Boom’s face like he was trying to read the words before they hit.

“You show up and you’re here. But I don’t feel wanted,” Boom said. “Romantically.”

The sentence landed cleanly, sharp and simple in the air between them.

Aou’s throat bobbed as he swallowed.

“I love you,” Aou said quietly.

Boom nodded immediately, because he believed that part. “I know you do.”

This was the part that hurt - the way love remained, intact and insufficient.

Aou’s shoulders eased slightly, as if he’d expected an argument.

“I’m grateful,” Boom added. “I’m not saying you don’t love me.”

Aou blinked. “Then what are you saying?”

Boom continued, words careful. “I’m saying I don’t think you’re in love with me anymore.”

The sentence landed between them and stayed there.

Aou froze. Boom felt his own heart pounding, loud enough to drown out the hum of the TV.

Aou swallowed. “That’s not true.”

Boom forced himself to keep going before he lost nerve.

“We don’t… we don’t touch each other like before,” he said. “We don’t hug. We don’t cuddle. We don’t kiss. We don’t have sex. We don’t make out unless I ask. There’s no compliments just because you actually feel like saying them. There’s no… spark, no heat, no fire. Anymore. It’s not even embers. It’s… not even warm anymore.”

He stopped, jaw tightening. He could taste something metallic at the back of his throat, adrenaline and fear mixing.

Aou’s voice was gentle. “I’m sorry.”

Boom nodded again, because he was so used to apologetic softness.

“I don’t want you to say sorry,” Boom said, and his voice cracked on the second word, which made him furious with himself. He cleared his throat and tried again. “I don’t want apologies that don’t change anything.”

Aou’s gaze dropped briefly to Boom’s hands, clasped too tightly together in his lap. Then he looked up again.

Boom inhaled slowly. “I don’t want to suffocate you. I really don’t. But if I don’t reach for you, nothing happens.”

Aou’s expression tightened, not angry, just cornered.

“I need time to myself,” Aou said. “You know that.”

“I know.”

“And when you ask me-” Aou paused, choosing his words carefully, “when you ask me to kiss you like it’s a checklist item, it makes me feel pressured.”

Boom stared at him.

Something in his chest shifted.

He understood it, which was the problem. He understood too much. He could see Aou’s side so clearly that it made his own pain feel embarrassing.

“I’m not trying to make it a checklist,” Boom said quietly. “I’m trying to not disappear.”

Aou’s face softened. “You’re not disappearing.”

Boom held his gaze. “It feels like I am.”

Silence filled the room, thick and ordinary, the kind of silence they used to break with jokes.

Boom waited for Aou to crack a smile, to reach over and squeeze his knee, to say something like You’re dramatic in that fond tone.

Aou didn’t.

He looked worn out. Not physically, not just that. Exhausted in a way that made Boom’s stomach twist.

“Are you still in love with me?” Boom asked.

The question left his mouth before he could stop it. It sounded too direct, too exposed, like he’d pulled a rib out and placed it on the coffee table.

Aou’s eyes widened slightly, as if he hadn’t expected Boom to say it that plainly.

“Do you still look at me and feel something? Do you still want me? Or do you just… love me because you’ve loved me for years and it would be weird not to?”

Aou’s jaw tightened.

“That’s not fair,” Aou said quietly.

Boom’s throat tightened. “I’m not trying to be unfair. I’m trying to be honest.”

Aou stared at him, then looked down, shoulders rounding slightly. The movement made Boom feel sick with guilt. He didn’t want to hurt Aou. He also didn’t want to keep hurting like this until it calcified into resentment.

Aou spoke without looking up. “I don’t know how to answer that.”

The words hit Boom harder than he expected. He felt something cold settle in his chest. Aou looked up quickly, as if he could see the impact and wanted to soften it.

“I love you,” Aou said again, voice strained now. “You’re my best friend.”

Boom’s eyes stung.

“That’s the problem,” he replied.

Aou flinched slightly. Boom regretted it instantly. He cleared his throat.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean-”

He stopped. Took a breath.

“I’ve been feeling…” Aou searched for the word, his eyes unfocused for a moment. “I’ve been feeling trapped.”

Boom went very still.

Aou swallowed. “Not by you. By everything. Work. Life. The routine.”

Boom stared at him, because this was the part that always made him feel insane. The way Aou could say something that should have been reassuring - not by you - and still make Boom feel like the ground was moving.

“You think I don’t feel guilty,” Aou said, voice low. “You think I don’t notice. I notice everything. I notice you waiting. I notice you pretending you’re okay.”

Boom stared at him, breath shallow.

Aou continued, words coming faster now. “And then I feel pressured, and then I feel worse, and then I feel like I’m failing you, and then I can’t-” He broke off, jaw tightening as he tried to breathe. “I just keep feeling like I owe something to you.”

Boom flinched. “I never wanted it to be like that.”

“I know.” Aou looked up at him.

“I met you at nineteen,” he said. “I never figured myself out outside of us. I never dated. I never made mistakes. I went straight into settled and forever.”

“You keep saying you feel like you missed out,” Boom said, voice quieter now. “And I keep trying to be understanding about it. I make jokes. I pretend it’s fine.”

Aou’s eyes flicked away.

Boom’s hands shook slightly. He forced them still by gripping his own fingers.

“But when you say it,” Boom continued, “it makes me feel like I’m not enough.”

Aou looked back at him quickly. “It’s not about you.”

“I know it isn’t. But it feels like it is,” Boom said.

Aou’s face crumpled slightly at that.

Boom’s voice dropped. “And every time you say it, I feel smaller.”

He swallowed hard. He stared at the carpet as if it could tell him what to do. He had tried to be mature about it. He had made jokes. He had swallowed jealousy until it turned into something quiet and sour.

He had even, once, in a moment of reckless desperation, thought about suggesting something he knew he couldn’t handle.

“I don’t want an open relationship,” Boom added quietly. “I can’t do that. I can’t sit here while you figure out what dating around is like or if you prefer dating women instead of me. I love you too much for that. I think it would kill me.”

Aou covered his face with his hands for a second.

“I never asked for that.”

“I know you didn’t. You didn’t have to.”

Silence settled again, heavier than before.

Aou’s voice broke. “I wasn’t going to leave.”

“I know,” Boom said, voice thick. “That’s the problem. You weren’t going to leave, and you also weren’t going to come back.”

Boom pressed on, because stopping would mean retreating again, and he didn’t think he could survive another retreat.

“I’m tired too,” he said. “I’m tired of negotiating for crumbs of romance. I’m tired of feeling like I’m begging for you.”

“You’re not begging.”

Boom’s laugh came out small and broken. “I asked you for a makeout session like it was a work meeting. I feel like a dog waiting around for you to make time for me.”

Silence again.

Finally, Aou looked up.

Boom looked down at his own hands, fingers knotted together. He could hear his heartbeat. He could hear Aou’s breathing.

“I love you,” Boom said. “I love you so much it makes me stupid. I’ve built my whole adult life around you. Every routine, every inside joke, every stupid Thursday recipe experiment. You’re my favorite person.”

Aou’s eyes softened, wetness gathering at the edges.

Boom’s throat tightened but he kept going.

“And I think you love me too,” Boom said. “I think you care about me more than anyone. I think you’d take an overnight bus with me too if my family needed me. I think you’d split your last ten baht with me if I asked.”

Aou’s mouth trembled slightly.

“But I don’t think this is working,” Boom said.

Aou blinked. “It is working.”

Boom shook his head slowly. “Not like this. It hasn’t been working for a while.”

Aou’s voice rose slightly. “Then tell me what to do.”

Boom’s eyes stung again. He blinked hard.

“I have told you,” Boom said, defeated. “So many times. I’ve told you in jokes. I’ve told you in hints. I’ve told you directly and then apologized for being too much. I’ve planned dates and trips and things and waited for you to meet me halfway. I’ve asked for affection like it’s a chore on a checklist.”

Aou flinched at that.

Boom swallowed. “And every time you say you’ll try, I believe you, because I want to believe you. Then nothing happens, and I tell myself to be patient again, because you’re tired, because work is hard, because life is hard.”

Aou’s eyes dropped briefly.

Boom leaned forward, elbows on his knees.

“And maybe that’s true,” Boom said. “Maybe you are tired. Maybe you’re drowning. I’m not angry at you for that.”

Aou’s voice was quiet. “Then why are we doing this?”

Boom looked up.

“Because I’m drowning too,” Boom said.

Aou’s face tightened, emotion flickering like a shadow.

Boom leaned back against the couch, feeling the fabric press against his back.

He could see their life in small images - the toothbrush that had appeared without discussion, the framed photo Aou had given him, the nights they had fallen asleep tangled together, the sound of guitar strings vibrating through the couch.

He could also see the last year - the way he had asked for kisses like he was requesting favors, the way Aou’s apologies had arrived without substance, the way Aou seemed to have one foot out the door already.

Boom took a breath that felt like it scraped his lungs.

“I think we should break up,” he said.

The words hung there, impossible and plain.

“We’re trying to force something that isn’t there,” Boom continued, voice trembling despite his effort to keep it steady. “You feel stuck. I feel unwanted. We love each other, but we’re not in love the same way anymore.”

Aou looked at him, eyes shining, not quite tearing up, but very close. “I don’t want to lose you.”

Boom looked up.

The statement should have felt like a rescue rope.

Instead, it felt like Aou was standing on the shore saying it while Boom was already in the water.

Aou’s eyes finally spilled over. A tear slid down his cheek and disappeared into the shadow near his jaw.

Boom felt his own tears gather, hot and humiliating. He hated crying. He hated how it made him feel childish. He hated how it made him want comfort from the same person he was trying to let go of.

Aou swallowed hard, bottom lip trembling, voice unstable. “So what, we just… stop?”

Boom nodded slowly. “I think it’s for the best if we end it here.”

Aou’s hands clenched against his thighs. He looked like he wanted to reach for Boom and didn’t know if he was allowed.

Boom waited, heart pounding.

This was the moment, he realized, the moment his body had been bracing for - Aou begging. Aou promising to change. Aou grabbing his wrist and saying Please, give us another chance. Let’s try.

Something messy and dramatic that would make Boom feel chosen.

Aou didn’t do any of that.

Aou just sat there, tears sliding silently, breathing uneven.

His voice came out shaky. “If that’s what you need.”

Boom’s throat closed.

The lack of a fight hurt more than shouting would have.

It felt like confirmation, cold and clean.

Boom wiped at his face quickly, furious at himself. “I don’t want to lose you either,” he said, voice cracking. “I don’t want you out of my life.”

Aou nodded shakily. “Me neither.”

“I want to stay friends.”

Aou’s laugh came out wet and brief. “Can we?”

Boom nodded, even though he didn’t know. “I think… I think we built something that doesn’t disappear just because we failed at the romantic part.”

Aou stared at him, eyes red. “Failed.”

Boom flinched at his own word choice. “That sounded-”

“No,” Aou said softly. “It’s accurate.”

They sat in silence again, the aircon humming, the city outside continuing like nothing had happened.

Boom looked at Aou and saw the boy from Khon Kaen in flashes - nervous, careful, quietly brave. He saw the man beside him now - exhausted, sincere, drowning in a life he hadn’t asked to feel trapped by.

Boom loved him.

Boom also felt like he was leaving a room he still wanted to live in, because the air inside had become too thin.

Aou wiped his face with the heel of his hand, eyes flicking away and back.

“When,” Aou asked quietly, “when did you start thinking about this?”

Boom’s laugh was weak. “A while ago.”

Aou nodded slowly, pain tightening his mouth. “You’ve been carrying it.”

Boom nodded. “I didn’t want to say it.”

Aou’s voice was small. “I didn’t want to hear it.”

Boom looked down at their hands, both empty in their laps, and felt something inside him fold.

“I’m sorry,” Boom whispered.

Aou shook his head. “Don’t.”

Boom blinked. “Don’t?”

Aou’s eyes held his gaze, steady even through tears. “Don’t apologize for needing something. It just-”

He inhaled sharply, trying to keep control.

“It just means I can’t give it to you,” Aou finished.

Boom’s tears slipped free then, silent and hot. He hated how much he wanted to crawl into Aou’s arms. He also hated that even now, he still wanted Aou to be the one to pull him close.

Boom felt his chest tighten, then loosen, like something in him had finally stopped fighting.

Aou’s eyes squeezed shut briefly. When he opened them again, there was something resigned there, something that looked like acceptance and loss at the same time.

“You’re still my best friend,” Aou said, voice hoarse.

Boom’s throat tightened again. He nodded, tears slipping down again despite his effort.

“You’re mine too,” Boom whispered.

Aou’s mouth trembled. “I don’t want to stop being in your life.”

Boom wiped his face with his sleeve, rough and inelegant. “You won’t.”

Aou’s shoulders shook, a silent breath turning into something like a sob. He covered his face briefly, then lowered his hands, looking at Boom with raw helplessness.

“I do love you,” Aou said. “I’m not lying.”

“I know,” Boom replied, smiling weakly.

Aou’s voice cracked. “I don’t understand why I can’t-”

Boom leaned forward and reached for Aou’s hand, taking it this time, not letting it hover. Aou’s fingers were cold.

“It doesn’t matter why,” Boom said gently. “It just is what it is. That’s life. Let’s blame it on bad timing.”

Aou stared at their hands, intertwined on the couch between them, as if the sight itself hurt.

After a moment, he squeezed Boom’s hand, hard. Boom squeezed in return, matching pressure, like a promise neither knew how to keep. They sat like that for a long time, breathing unevenly, tears drying slowly on their skin.

Eventually, Aou spoke again, voice small.

“Are you sure?” he asked.

Boom looked at him.

Aou’s eyes were red, face blotchy, hair slightly messy from dragging his hands through it. He looked young suddenly, not the composed man from presentations and client calls, but once again the nineteen year old boy from Khon Kaen who had carried a guitar case through Boom’s door and tried to pretend he wasn’t intimidated by adulthood.

He wished, for a split-second, that Aou would yell. That he would throw something. That he would make it easier to hate him.

Aou just looked like himself. The person Boom loved. The person who had held him through flu fevers and long nights of editing deadlines.

“Yes,” he said, and it hurt to say it, his voice breaking slightly. He steadied it again. “If we keep going, we’ll ruin each other.”

Aou nodded once, like he was taking a blow.

Then he leaned forward and pressed his forehead to Boom’s shoulder, clinging for a moment in a way he hadn’t in months. Boom wrapped his arms around him automatically, holding him close, breathing in the familiar scent of detergent and skin. They stayed like that, two people holding hands on a couch that had held so many versions of them.

Eventually, Aou’s voice broke the silence.

“So… I should move out,” he said quietly.

Boom swallowed. “Yeah.”

Aou nodded once, like he was accepting a fact at work.

“When?”

Boom’s mouth opened, then closed. He didn’t want to answer. He didn’t want to imagine the apartment without Aou’s shoes by the door, without his clothes in the closet, without his guitar leaning in the corner.

But he also didn’t want to prolong this until it turned cruel.

“Soon,” Boom said softly. “We can figure it out. No rush tonight.”

Aou’s gaze flickered to Boom’s face, then away. “Okay.”

Boom’s throat tightened at the word, because it was the same word Aou had said when Boom asked him to be his boyfriend, years ago on this couch with rain on the windows.

Okay.

Then it had felt like a door opening.

Now it felt like one closing.

He wanted to say something that would make it softer. He wanted to tell a joke. He wanted to rewind the evening to the restaurant, to the moment when Aou had said This place is nice and Boom had felt relief like it was love.

Instead, he squeezed Aou’s hand once.

Aou wiped his face again, then looked at Boom with something fragile in his expression. Aou’s lips parted. He breathed in, shallow, like he was trying to pull oxygen through grief.

“Come here,” Aou said suddenly, voice hoarse.

Boom hesitated.

Aou’s eyes held his. “Please.”

Boom shifted closer, and Aou’s arms wrapped around him tightly, sudden and fierce. Boom’s body responded without permission, sinking into the embrace like it had been starving for it. Aou buried his face against Boom’s shoulder. Boom felt hot tears soak into his shirt. Boom’s hands came up slowly, hesitating for a fraction of a second, then holding Aou’s back firmly.

They stayed like that for a long time.

When Aou finally pulled back, his eyes were red. His mouth trembled slightly as he tried to speak.

“I’m sorry,” Aou whispered.

Boom shook his head. “Don’t.”

“I am,” Aou insisted quietly. “I’m sorry I-” He swallowed hard. “I’m sorry I couldn’t give you what you needed.”

Boom’s eyes stung.

“I’m sorry too,” Boom said, voice rough. 

Aou shook his head, frustrated. Boom looked at him, chest aching. Aou wiped his face again, then let out a shaky breath. He stood up slowly, as if his body had aged years in the past hour. He walked toward the bedroom doorway, then stopped and looked back.

“Can I sleep here tonight?” he asked quietly.

Boom’s chest tightened. He forced himself to breathe.

“Yes,” Boom said, because he couldn’t bear to say no to that. Not tonight.

Aou nodded once.

He disappeared into the bathroom. Boom heard the water run. Heard the soft scrape of the toothbrush holder. Heard the familiar routines continue, absurd and automatic.

Boom stayed on the couch, staring at the blank TV screen, the room too quiet now that the conversation had ended, for a moment longer.

The apartment still looked the same.

The alarm clocks would still go off five minutes apart in the morning.

The ID cards would still sit in the ceramic dish.

The couch cushions still held their shape.

Boom pressed his fist lightly against his mouth, breathing through the ache in his chest until it felt like he might split open. Then he got up and got ready for bed as well, his body feeling both heavier and lighter simultaneously.

They lay down on opposite sides of the bed at first, the usual habit returning out of grief. The space between them felt wider than it had ever been.

Aou shifted slightly. After a moment, he reached one hand across the gap, fingers searching. Boom’s hand found his automatically. Their fingers laced together in the dark, a small bridge over a distance that would be real in the morning.

Boom’s voice was quiet in the dark. “I still love you.”

“I know,” Aou said, voice rough, then corrected himself as if the habit offended him now. “I love you too.”

The words landed differently between them now - a goodbye they weren’t ready to say.