Chapter Text
“Are you single or taken?”
Gaipa blinks a few times, wondering if he misheard. Behind him, Leng and Li Ming snicker, and so does Heart after Li Ming translates. He scratches the back of his head. “Uh… excuse me?”
The woman checking their IDs laughs and displays a handful of brightly-coloured paper bracelets. “It’s Traffic Light Night.” She holds up her own wrist. “Green means you’re single, red means you’re taken, and yellow means you’re taking caution.”
“What does that mean?” Leng asks curiously.
The woman shrugs. “Whatever you want it to, I guess.” She refocuses her gaze on Gaipa. “So… single or taken?” she asks flirtatiously.
After a minute, the four of them are in the main room of the bar. Of course Gaipa is the only single one among his friends; Leng and Praew are still going strong, and Li Ming and Heart have been living together in Chicago for a year now.
“Can we sit by the front?” Li Ming asks. He smiles and takes his boyfriend’s hand in his own, both of them with red bracelets. “Heart can feel the vibrations from the speakers that way.”
They’ve come back to Thailand for the summer, so Gaipa and Leng had decided to plan a “first legal drink” outing for Li Ming’s 20th. The idea was to go somewhere in the city that they’ve never been, and Leng had stumbled upon reviews of this hole-in-the-wall university bar that promised cute servers and cheap drinks. They’ve ordered a round of the latter, but Gaipa has yet to see evidence of any cute guys. The women are all pretty, of course, but that’s not really what he’s after.
Life has been… okay. His mother’s passing had left a hole in his heart that will never truly be filled; not by the massive insurance payout he received, not by his friendships, and certainly not by a lover, which he hasn’t come across. Even so, he longs for one, almost as much as he wishes his mother was still around to coach him through it.
His crush on Uncle Jim is mostly over, but sometimes he catches himself sighing when Jim and Wen share a kiss as they work at the food truck together, or hold hands approaching Gaipa in the market. He’d kept the chicken stall running mostly for his mother’s memory. It’s a stressful job, but he’s good at it, and Leng works alongside him for extra money to help out with the baby. The stall feels like a second home he can retreat to when things get too quiet in his big, empty house. He often works longer hours than he needs to just to distract himself from his loneliness.
He’d had a brief flirtation with a friend of Wen’s, but it didn’t turn into anything. Alan had helped him settle his mother’s accounts and had boldly asked Gaipa out on his last visit to the bank, something no one else had ever done with him before. They’d gone on a few dates, but their opposing schedules had made it too difficult, with days turning to weeks before they would find time to see each other again. Alan, too, will often come by the market for a smoothie before work, and they’re friendly, but…
Well, Gaipa is wearing a green bracelet tonight.
“Would you like to request a song?” A chirpy voice interrupts his rumination.
“Hm?”
Another pretty server with a heart-shaped face and a high ponytail holds out a notepad and a golf pencil. “Our house band takes song requests, and they’re chosen randomly. Please fill it out.”
“Oh! Sick!” Leng grabs the notepad from her and pokes his tongue out the side of his mouth. “Hmm. I’m going to request ‘Is It Raining?’ by Three Man Down.” He grins. “That was the song that was playing when Praew and I went on our first date.”
Gaipa laughs as Li Ming and Heart pretend-retch. “You’re so sappy.”
“Yeah? And I’m the one with a beautiful wife, what about you, hm?” Leng tears the paper off the notepad and hands it to the server, then tosses the little book at Gaipa. “Besides, you’re twice as romantic as I am. Go on.”
Gaipa lets Li Ming and Heart discuss a song first, so he can ponder his own choice. He figures with the amount of people here, his request isn’t likely to be chosen, but if he had to pick…
He writes the song down and his name with a little smiley face, then folds it in half and drops it into the plastic bucket the server has produced. “Thank you,” he tells her.
The drinks arrive just as she departs. The group clinks their bottles of Singha together. “Happy birthday, Li Ming!” they shout, Gaipa the loudest of all.
“Man, we should have requested ‘Happy Birthday,’” Leng says, smacking his own forehead with his palm.
“I’m sure they’ll do it anyways if we tell them it’s his 20th,” Gaipa assures him.
Despite lacking a lover, Gaipa is mostly content. His friends have remained loyal even as they moved on—Leng becoming a father, Uncle Jim and Wen turning the shop into a mobile truck, Li Ming and Heart studying in America. He’s made a few new ones too, and the aunties in the market treat him like a son, which lends him the tenderness he’s missed ever since his mother passed. She often lamented that she’d had only one child, so he knows she’d be happy to see him now. He takes a sip of beer and smiles at his adopted band of brothers.
“Good evening.”
The band has taken the stage, and Gaipa turns his head. He’s momentarily caught off guard by the man who’d just greeted the crowd. He’s tall—probably 180cm if not taller—and wearing a leather jacket over a black t-shirt that says The Cranberries in bold white letters. With his red guitar and fashionably ripped blue jeans, he looks every inch a rockstar, even in this tiny bar.
He smiles as he introduces the band, his white teeth framed by rosy lips. Even with a curtain of bangs shading his eyes, Gaipa can tell they’re wide and a hypnotizing shade of dark, dark brown. He can see how long his lashes are from his spot close to the stage.
“Welcome to Traffic Light Night, everyone,” he says warmly, and the crowd cheers. “If you’re in a relationship, I hope it lasts very long.” He chuckles. “And if you’re single… Well, tonight P’Yo has given you a chance not to be.” He winks in the direction of a woman in the back of the room, who also whoops her approval.
“As usual, we’ll be playing a mix of classic and modern rock, but the requests bucket is open.” The singer takes a sip from a bottle of water. “If we share musical taste, I’m more than happy to do it acoustic as well. And remember…” He raises his left arm, where a bright green bracelet is fastened to his wrist. “I’m also available for you to hit on.”
Gaipa swallows the lump in his throat while the other patrons squeal and scream. He could have sworn the musician was looking right at him when he said that. Or am I just wishful thinking? He quickly averts his gaze as the band kicks off with a song by Tilly Birds.
“Damn, they’re pretty good.” Li Ming smiles and watches Heart nod along, clearly feeling the beat. “Gaipa, you heard the man. He’s single and ready to mingle.”
Gaipa blushes and rolls his eyes. “And who says I am?” He rolls up the sleeves of his plaid button-down. “How do you even know he’s my type?”
Leng leans over the table and holds up a finger. “To answer your first question, we know you are because it’s all you talk about.” He smiles good-naturedly. “A guy as nice as you deserves it. And two… hot, available men are your type. So no worries there.”
Gaipa takes another sip of his beer and shakes his head. Leng makes him sound desperate, which he isn’t, not at all. If he were desperate, he would have kept trying to make it work with Alan despite their conflicting schedules. But he’d let it go gracefully.
What he is is impatient. He wants to find a boyfriend, and he wants it to be easy, like it is in the movies. He might deny his desperation, but he’ll never deny his romantic side. He wants to hold hands while walking on the beach and share ice cream from the same bowl. He wants to come home to someone and fall asleep in their arms, legs entwined, kisses on his forehead. He wants someone to massage his back after a long day and giggle with him about the old-lady gossip he hears at the market. He wants to be woken up by someone's snoring and shushed into slumber when his mother's voice echoes in his dreams.
Gaipa wants a lover, and he won’t settle for anything less.
Still, he can pretend for a night. The band really is good, and even though he doesn’t know all of the songs, the rhythm is infectious and the crowd’s enthusiasm is palpable. The lead singer is doing a great job of riling everyone up, and there seems to be an unspoken understanding amongst the audience that they all have to raise their arms and shout “Motherfucker!” at a certain point in a song. Gaipa sings along with the ones he knows and nods to the ones he doesn’t. The singer definitely catches his eye a few times; there’s no pretending about that.
“Alright.” The singer speaks right against the microphone, filling the bar with his deep, soulful voice. “It’s time for song requests. I’m feeling generous tonight—” A few girls interrupt him with cheers. He laughs. “So we’ll do two. Cross your fingers.” He crosses his own and grins. “Som?”
He motions to the waitress with the Ariana Grande ponytail from before, who eagerly walks onto the stage and holds out the bucket. Gaipa realizes he’s holding his breath as he waits for the handsome man to pick a piece of paper.
He does so dramatically, swirling the papers around, before pulling one out and unfolding it.
“If You Wanna by The Vaccines,” he reads aloud. “Someone after my own heart, are you? You'd better come find me later.” The crowd shrieks at that and Gaipa feels a pang of jealousy. “Luckily, we all know this one. Let’s go, guys!”
I don't want to wake up in the morning
But I've got to face the day
That's what all the friends I do not like as much as you say
I don't want to do things independently
But I can't make you stay
That's what all the friends I do not like as much as you say
Gaipa’s never heard this song before, but clearly the singer is a fan, so he bobs his head and pretends to know it. Leng is also rocking out like he’s at a metal concert, his wild hair even messier than usual as he shakes it about, and Li Ming and Heart are dancing with their arms around each other’s shoulders.
But if you wanna come back it's alright, it's alright
It's alright if you wanna come back
Do you wanna come back? It's alright, it's alright
It's alright if you wanna come back to me
When the song finishes, the audience goes wild, cheering and yelling and pounding the tables. The band has to tap the mic a few times to get them to calm down, and only once they do does the singer call Som to the stage again.
“Last one tonight,” the singer says, and the crowd boos. The hot man shakes his head with a smirk. That gesture alone is driving Gaipa crazy and the guy isn’t even looking at him.
He reaches into the bucket and grabs a paper, then reads it silently to himself before chuckling, his shoulders rising slightly. “I…” He shakes his head again. “Guys, this is a first for me here at P’Yo’s. I’m embarrassed.” He looks at the paper again and smiles. “Gaipa?”
Shit. I forgot I wrote my name on it.
"Over here, man!" Leng shouts at the top of his lungs.
Gaipa’s face is practically crimson as his friends point exaggeratedly at him. He turns and makes eye contact with the singer, then waves weakly, his insides melting under the man's molten stare.
“Gaipa,” he says again, and the other man could get used to hearing his name in that warm lilt. “I’m sorry. I’ve heard this song before, but I don’t know all the words, or how to play it.” He smiles apologetically. “But I know what it’s about. Can I play you a song with a similar vibe?”
Gaipa is nodding faster than his mouth can catch up, and the singer winks at him before addressing the entire room. “No one hold this against me, okay?” The crowd laughs and cheers, and the singer looks at Gaipa again. “This is a song by one of my favourite bands. I hope you still like it.”
Close your eyes and I'll kiss you
Tomorrow I'll miss you
Remember I'll always be true
And then while I'm away, I'll write home everyday
And I'll send all my loving to you
Gaipa actually recognizes this one; his father had liked The Beatles and would occasionally play their songs when he was working on something at home. He taps his fingers on his knees and tries not to look away, but the musician keeps his gaze on him the whole time, mesmerizing him with those doe-like eyes.
It must be part of his schtick though, right? The people in the bar seem to know him, and he clearly plays here often and regularly takes requests. He hadn’t stared at anyone in particular during the first song, but that person had also left their request anonymous, which Gaipa is now realizing is probably what you’re supposed to do. He sinks back into the plush velvet of the booth, his cheeks aching from his smile.
I'll pretend that I'm kissing the lips I am missing
And hope that my dreams will come true
And then while I'm away, I'll write home everyday
And I'll send all my loving to you
Leng is giving him a look from across the table, while Li Ming and Heart just dance along, lost in their own little world. Gaipa decides it’s not wrong to lose himself too, just for these three minutes. He imagines that this handsome musician is actually singing these words to him, for him. The lonely crevasses of his heart can be filled again, just for tonight.
All my loving I will send to you
All my loving
Darling, I'll be true
All my loving
All my loving
Ooh
All my loving I will send to you
***
Gaipa thinks back to the first time he met Uncle Jim, years before he had become a regular customer at their chicken stall. He had smiled directly at Gaipa as he made his way over with a bag of winter melons in one hand and some spices in the other. To Gaipa, it had felt like his entire world had been turned from black and white to colour. He’d never seen someone so good-looking before.
“What can I get for you?” he tried to ask without stuttering.
“All of this please, if you have it,” Jim replied. Their fingers brushed briefly when he handed Gaipa a handwritten list.
Even his penmanship was pretty.
His mother, who had been chopping gizzard at the time, had suddenly turned and plucked it from his hand. “Oh!” she cried out. “You’re Jim, aren’t you? You own a chicken rice diner near the Chinese Opera House?” She waved the knife around as she talked, narrowly missing Gaipa’s nose. “I heard all about it from the landlord.”
The other man blushed slightly, which Gaipa thought was cute. “Yes ma’am. Our grand opening is tomorrow at five o’clock. You’re welcome to come; everything will be half price.”
His mother smiled back. “I think I’ll be too tired, but my son might be interested.” She nudged Gaipa and gave him her famous 'check this one out' look. How amusing it was of her to assume he hadn’t been eyeing Jim from 100 feet away. “This is Gaipa. And I’m Mrs. Hong. It’s wonderful to have you in the neighbourhood.”
Jim had wai’d them both respectfully. “Thank you. I hope I’ll see you there, Gaipa.”
“You’ll see him sooner than that,” Mrs. Hong had replied. “This is quite a tall order. We may need to deliver it in installments. I’ll prepare the first half now, and…” She nudged Gaipa again, her knobby elbow digging into his ribcage. “Can I send him by the restaurant around seven tonight with the second half? I’m sure he’ll be eager to help.”
“Mae,” he whispered.
Jim nodded, oblivious to Gaipa’s inner panic. “Of course. I don’t want to clear out your whole stock.” He took what he was given and loaded it into a small cart with wheels. “Thank you very much Mrs. Hong. Gaipa.” He landed his sharp black eyes on Gaipa’s own. “See you later on tonight. Our place is called ‘Moonlight Chicken.’” He winked. “You can’t miss it.”
He'd been transported to that memory because it reminded him so much of how he’s feeling right now. The show had ended and the band had disappeared, to Gaipa’s disappointment. His friends had immediately begun to razz him about his newfound crush, and after a couple more drinks between them, they’d decided to head out. Gaipa is pleasantly tipsy, but it’s not really helping his bravado. He stares longingly from across the parking lot.
The singer from the band is leaning with his back against the dirty wall of the building, directly beneath a floodlight that bathes him in a hazy glow. His neck is tilted to the sky, and he exhales a plume of smoke with a contemplative look on his pretty face.
Gaipa’s not a smoker himself, but Uncle Jim had been, and he never felt like it took anything away from him. It might be weird for Gaipa to think, but smoking almost suits the musician, who is so classically cool in his leather jacket and distressed jeans, tucked into beat-up black boots. All he needs is a motorcycle to complete his bad-boy look, and by the set of tiny keys he’s twirling around his finger, Gaipa figures he drives one.
“Just go talk to him,” Leng encourages him, a hand on each shoulder from behind. He massages him like he’s about to enter a boxing ring. “He was looking at you the whole time he was singing. I bet he thinks you’re cute.” His longtime buddy jumps in front of him and smiles. “And who can blame him? My most handsome friend.”
Gaipa rolls his eyes and shoves him. “If that’s true, then why am I also your most single friend?”
Out of the corner of his eye, Gaipa can see Li Ming signing the conversation for Heart, who signs back. Li Ming laughs and turns to Gaipa.
“Heart says it’s because you don’t make enough moves,” he explains. “Sooooooo… go make one!” Heart nods along with a smile.
“But what can I even say?” Gaipa protests. He doesn’t smoke, so he can’t approach the singer under the guise of bumming a cigarette. He’s also never been to this bar before and can’t comment on anything else besides how good the man looks.
Li Ming rolls his eyes. “Don’t be an idiot, man. Tell him you liked the performance. Ask him when he started playing guitar. Talk to him about The Cranberries.”
“I don’t know The Cranberries,” Gaipa shoots back, purposely stalling.
“Then ask him about them! Shit man, say something.” Li Ming signs to Heart as he speaks aloud to the rest of them. “Sheesh. And I thought I was the kid in this group.”
They all laugh and Leng gently prods Gaipa in the back, urging him over. Gaipa sighs. “Okay. I’ll do it.”
As he walks on unsteady legs, he tries to reason with himself. He literally never has to come back to this bar if things get awkward; it’s not like when he’d confessed to Uncle Jim and then had to pathetically pretend like he was just being hypothetical about the one we love. Having to see him nearly every day after that had been the most painful thing he ever experienced up until his mother’s passing, whereas this is just…
Harmless.
He strolls into the smoking area, already having caught the singer’s eye. But there’s also nobody else here so it kind of makes sense. He shoves his hands into his pockets and takes them out, then runs one through his hair. How do I start? What should I say?
By some divine miracle, it’s the tall, handsome singer who opens his mouth first. “Hi.”
Gaipa smiles. “Hi.” He shifts awkwardly from one foot to another as the man smokes. “I… Sorry for interrupting you. I just wanted to tell you that I liked the music.”
Lame. I’m so goddamn lame.
The musician breaks into a smile so wide that his big brown eyes almost disappear. “Thank you,” he replies. Gaipa wants to believe there’s a hint of blush on his cheeks, which he would have thought impossible for someone who comes across as confident as this guy does.
As he ruminates on it, the man continues, “Gaipa, right?”
Gaipa’s heart thunders in his chest. Sure, he’d written his name down on the request paper, but… this guy remembered? His cheeks redden and he looks at the smoke-littered ground. “Yeah.”
“I’m Sand.” The man holds out his free hand and Gaipa shakes it. “Thanks for coming out tonight. I’m sorry I didn’t know the song you requested. That doesn’t usually happen to me, I promise.”
Gaipa laughs, feeling a bit more at ease. “It’s alright. It was a long shot anyways. It’s not even a Thai song, but it was my mother’s favourite.”
He raises his gaze to see that Sand’s mouth has dropped open slightly, revealing the bottom row of his teeth. Two of them are a little taller than the others and they resemble fangs, which Gaipa finds inexplicably adorable.
Not wanting to kill the mood, he quickly adds, “The alternative was great though. You have… a really nice voice.”
“Thank you.” Sand steps a little closer to him, close enough that he can spot the tiny hole in his t-shirt. “I haven’t seen you here before. Are you just visiting Bangkok?”
“No, I live here, but across town. It’s my friend’s 20th, so we were looking for a bar to take him for his first drink and we stumbled upon here. Good reviews on Google Maps.” He tilts his head. “We weren’t expecting the music, but it was awesome.”
“I’m glad.” Sand raises an eyebrow and smiles. “So… you’ll be back, do you think?”
Gaipa wishes he were the kind of person who could say something like, I don’t know, do you want me to be back? But it took him years to build up the courage to get flirtier with Uncle Jim, and he hasn’t hit on anyone since; Alan kind of took the lead during their short-lived situationship. So he gives a shrug that he hopes comes across as coy rather than indifferent, and smiles. “Maybe.”
Sand ashes his smoke out and slips it through the holes of the cigarette bin. “I hope you will.”
He says it like it’s the easiest thing in the world, casual and tossed-off, unknowingly causing a reaction deep in Gaipa’s swirling gut. He smiles again. “Sorry, I have to go help the guys tear down the stage.” He starts to walk away, then turns, his face partially lit up by the full moon above them. “I’ll make you a deal. Come back again, and I’ll play that song for you.”
Heat floods Gaipa’s entire body; it’s like someone’s dumped a cup of warm cider over his head and he’s sticky with it, feeling the prickles of sweat behind his ears and under his shirt.
He’s… hitting on me, right? Is he hitting on me? Am I being hit on?
Alan had straight up said in his first text, “I like you. Can I flirt with you?” and Gaipa still hadn’t believed him until they’d gone on their first date. He’s not good at subtleties; he needs to be smacked across the face with it.
“Doesn’t it take time to learn a song?” he finds himself asking, because when his brain can’t flirt, he has to resort to logic.
“Hm. I guess I’ll have to start memorizing tonight then. Just in case,” Sand replies, quick and calm. “Our next show is on the 14th. Next week.” His hand is on the door to the bar but he’s lingering, awaiting Gaipa’s response.
He can see his friends watching him out of the corner of his eye. “What’s the deal though? You play the song for me, and…?”
“And I get to see you smile while I do it,” Sand tells him, his grin so sincere that it almost feels like a bit. “That’ll be enough. See you, Gaipa.”
Before the other man can even say goodbye, Sand is back inside the bar, and Gaipa is left speechless in the empty parking lot.
His friends rush him as soon as the singer is gone. “Bro, your ears are red as shit!” Leng shouts.
“Leng!” Gaipa buddy-punches him a little harder than usual. “Shut up. He just went back in.”
“What did he say?” Li Ming has a boyish grin on his face, his eyes sparkling. “Did he ask you out?”
Gaipa cockily pops the collar of his shirt and grins, playing it up. “Not exactly. But he… asked me back.”
His friends cheer and wrap their arms around him, hyping him up like they’ve won a football match. He joins them in the revelry despite his insecurity.
Deep down, he knows he shouldn’t get his hopes up over a silly little exchange of words, no matter how delectable it had felt. Sand is first and foremost an entertainer, and repeat business is good for both the bar and his band. Why wouldn’t he flirt with Gaipa in hopes that he’d spread the word about Yo’s and help them gain a bigger audience?
Then again, purposely learning a Chinese pop song from the 1960s isn’t something one does when their listeners are fans of indie rock and pop-punk. The only person who’d be delighted by the gesture is Gaipa himself, and he’s already picturing the next time he’ll sit at the front table by the stage. There had been something in Sand’s eyes that can’t be faked, an honest connection made through the lyrics of a song alone. Sand seems sweet, but Gaipa can tell there’s more to him, and his heart aches to uncover it.
He marks June 14th in his calendar as a reminder, and turns back to his friends. “Happy birthday, Li Ming,” he says softly, and they walk off into the night.
It feels like maybe, just maybe... he can hope for something again.