Chapter Text
First remembers the day his brother Mix brought home his new friend.
He had been twelve, sprawled across a chair in the living room with a game controller in his hands, yelling into his headphones at Est while the sounds of the game blasted in his ears. The rest of the world barely existed when he was playing like that.
So when Mix suddenly stepped in front of the TV, blocking his view entirely, First only vaguely registered it.
His brother’s mouth was moving—probably lecturing him about not answering his phone, or not working on his homework, or one of the many things First had been supposed to get done before Mix came home for the week.
Not that First could hear a word of it anyway.
He waved a hand to shoo him away, eyes still locked on the screen, until he noticed the guy standing beside him.
There was a laptop bag slung casually over one shoulder, tucked against a slim waist that, for reasons First absolutely couldn’t explain at twelve years old, looked very grab-able.
His gaze traveled up.
A beautiful face came into view, turned slightly toward Mix with an amused little smirk. The man’s lips were plump and slightly glossy, the kind of smile that made the corners of his eyes crinkle in a way that made First’s heart jump strangely in his chest.
First scrambled upright in the chair so fast he nearly dropped the controller.
He yanked his headphones off and fumbled with the mic.
“Uh—Est, I gotta go,” he muttered quickly, barely thinking about what he was saying.
His eyes never left the beautiful, dangerously interesting face standing just a few feet away from him.
“Mom absolutely told you no games today. I heard her this morning when we were on the phone,” Mix says the second First pulls his headphones off. “Didn’t you barely pass one of your classes? I cannot believe she made me come back during the one full break I get this year just to help you study instead of going to Chiang Mai with Khaotung like we planned.”
His voice fills the room now that the game noise is gone.
“Hey! Are you even listening to me?” Mix nearly shouts when he realizes First is staring somewhere over his shoulder.
First leans forward in the chair, eyes wide.
“Phi… who—who is this?”
Mix follows his gaze and sighs loudly when he sees the absolutely ridiculous, googly-eyed expression on First’s face.
Beside him, the man finally looks over.
He crosses his arms loosely and gives First a small nod.
“Khaotung.”
“That’s Khaotung,” Mix says flatly. “Did mom not tell you we were coming? The gate was locked and it took us twenty minutes to find the spare key in my luggage. Thankfully I brought it, otherwise we’d probably still be standing out there since you ignored all my messages and my phone call. Again.”
Mix continues complaining while First slowly slumps back into his chair.
Then he remembers Khaotung is still looking at him.
Immediately, he straightens again and flashes him the brightest smile he can manage before scrambling to his feet. He shuffles closer, much closer, until he’s practically standing at Khaotung’s side.
“Phiiii,” First whines dramatically, grabbing onto his arm.
“How could you be friends with a meanie like this?” he asks, pointing wildly at Mix.
Khaotung’s eyes widen in surprise.
He glances down at the twelve-year-old suddenly clinging to him, then looks back at Mix with visible confusion, mouthing silently:
What is happening?
Mix rounds Khaotung and immediately starts lightly smacking the back of First’s head.
“Don’t be rude. Why aren’t you answering me?”
First drops to his knees dramatically, wailing the way he always does when he knows he’s in trouble. He apologizes profusely, jutting out his lower lip into a pitiful pout as he looks up at his brother.
Then he hears it. Khaotung laughing.
The soft chuckle makes First freeze for a second before his brain catches up with him. He probably shouldn’t be acting like this in front of someone as beautiful as Khaotung.
But it’s too late now.
Mix is already cooing over him, pinching his cheeks like he’s five instead of twelve, and for a brief moment First is convinced he’s gotten away with it—avoided every single chore and assignment their mom told him to finish before she left for work that morning.
First lets the pout fade into a triumphant little smile.
Which is exactly when Mix grabs him by the ear.
“Ow—hey!” First yelps as Mix drags him across the room.
First grumbles to himself for nearly an hour as he sits at the table pretending to do his homework. Every ten minutes he throws a glare over his shoulder toward the couch, where Mix is lounging comfortably, gossiping with Khaotung like he doesn’t have a younger brother suffering across the room.
Eventually boredom wins.
First quietly slips off his chair and starts sneaking toward them.
When he finally peeks over Mix’s shoulder, his eyes meet Khaotung’s again. The older man looks surprised for a moment before quickly pressing his lips together, clearly trying to hide a laugh as First makes an exaggerated face and points accusingly at his brother.
Khaotung glances over at Mix.
“Aren’t we supposed to be helping your brother study?”
“That menace can sit and figure it out himself for a while first,” Mix replies easily, flipping through the magazine in his hands. He pauses to glance back and forth between two photos of the same model.
First rolls his eyes dramatically.
“Phiiiiii!” he suddenly whines right into Mix’s ear.
Mix jumps in surprise.
“Hey—!”
But First is already sprinting away, racing up the stairs as Mix shouts after him and immediately gives chase. Downstairs, Khaotung collapses back against the couch, laughing so hard he has to press a hand to his stomach.
A few minutes later, First locks himself in the bathroom long enough for Mix to eventually stomp back downstairs in defeat.
Once the house goes quiet again, First carefully cracks the door open and slips out, planning to sneak straight to his room and spend the rest of the afternoon reading manga instead.
He nearly walks straight into someone.
First freezes.
Khaotung is standing right outside the door.
“Can’t you give him a break and come downstairs to study with us, nong?” Khaotung says gently. He leans down slightly so they’re closer to eye level, offering him a warm smile. “We’ll make it fun. I promise.”
First doesn’t believe studying can be fun.
He definitely doesn’t believe he and Mix won’t end up chasing each other around the house arguing again.
But he believes that warm smile on Khaotung’s face, even though he’s only known the man for a couple of hours.
So instead of being the annoying kid everyone knows him to be, First smiles back and gives a shy little nod before following after him.
In the days that followed, First started waking up at exactly eight in the morning even though he didn’t necessarily have to.
He would sit at the kitchen table flipping through the notes Mix and Khaotung had left for him the night before, waiting for them to come downstairs at eight-thirty sharp.
Every morning, Khaotung would greet him the same way. A quick thumbs up. A playful rustle of his hair like First was a puppy that had done something impressive. Then he would glance at whatever section of notes First was staring at and patiently explain it again before wandering over to help Mix start breakfast.
At nine o’clock their mom would come out of her room.
They would all eat together. She’d kiss both Mix and First on the cheek, remind First—again—not to spend the day gaming, and quickly go over the plan for the day with Mix before heading off to work.
All the while, First’s eyes followed Khaotung around the room.
He watched him sway along to whatever music was playing softly from his phone speaker. He watched him politely greet their mom goodbye and hand her the lunch he had packed for her. He watched him joke with Mix while they cleaned up the dishes.
Every once in a while their eyes would meet.
When they did, Khaotung would point sternly down at the paper in front of First.
And really, how could First rebel against something like that?
So he would nod obediently and go back to work.
For a little while, at least.
Before his eyes drifted again.
By lunchtime Mix would usually start complaining about being stuck inside all day, which meant he and Khaotung would make plans to meet up with some of Mix’s friends from middle school. They were all finishing their final year soon, preparing to return to the city a few hours away where Mix and Khaotung shared a small room their parents rented so they could attend a better school.
Mix was hoping to get into a good university.
Khaotung was too.
The first day, Khaotung had seemed nervous about meeting Mix’s friends.
By the end of the week, though, he’d already been added to their group chat and was making plans to see them again before they all left for the city.
Meanwhile, First spent the entire week trying to be good for Khaotung.
The way Khaotung spoke to him made something warm settle in his chest. He never sounded annoyed when First struggled through a problem for the third time. He didn’t make him feel stupid when he needed something explained again.
Instead, he was patient. Gentle. Understanding.
And even at twelve years old, First decided very firmly that he liked that.
First didn’t necessarily cry when Khaotung left at the end of the week.
But he definitely thought about it.
He did ask for Khaotung’s number—just in case he needed help with something. Mix immediately tried to protest, telling him he could just call his own brother, but Khaotung only laughed softly and patted First on the head before handing him his phone so he could type the number in himself.
“Of course, nong,” Khaotung said gently. “Call me if you need me to explain something. Even if it’s the fifth or sixth time.”
Then he picked up his bags and headed for the door.
First followed them outside and stood in the driveway, watching as they loaded everything into the car. As Khaotung climbed into the passenger seat, First found himself wondering when the next time would be that he came to visit.
By then, he wanted to prove something. He was going to do better. He was going to ace all his classes this year, just like he’d promised.
Even if Khaotung hadn’t looked entirely convinced when First told him that earlier, smiling at him with that same warm expression.
“I promise, phi,” First had said, giggling a little. “You’ll be the first one to know. Other than me, of course.”
Khaotung had laughed with him then, reaching out to pat his shoulder.
“If you do,” he said, “I’ll come back and visit. Okay?”
First had nodded eagerly.
And the moment the car disappeared down the street, he went straight back inside to start working again.
· · ·
First did ace all of his classes that year.
He called Mix and Khaotung—mostly Khaotung, if he was being honest—almost every other day at Khaotung’s insistence whenever he needed help. That slowed down once exams started getting closer and the two of them became busier with their own studying.
Mix came home briefly after graduation, though First ended up missing him because of a school trip his class had taken before they moved up to the next year. He had fun and burned off a lot of energy with his friends, but he couldn’t help feeling a little disappointed that he hadn’t gotten to see Mix.
Or Khaotung.
When Mix eventually returned home again to wait for the results of his university applications, he brought something with him.
A gift.
“Khaotung couldn’t come,” Mix said, handing it over while First immediately started pouting. “He had to go home and help his family for a while. He said to give you this to make up for it.”
The disappointment disappeared almost instantly when First opened it.
Inside was an original Japanese copy of his favorite manga.
First decided right then that he would keep doing well until the next time Khaotung came back to visit.
They kept in touch after that. As the months passed, though, Khaotung eventually told him he should consider getting a proper tutor.
“I love helping you,” he had said gently over the phone, “but I’m only going to get busier now that I’m in university.”
Even though it made First a little sad, he understood.
As much as a thirteen-year-old could.
Khaotung promised him something before they hung up that night.
“That won’t change anything,” he said. “I’ll always be your phi. You can reach out anytime.”
And he had mostly kept that promise.
Sometimes First wouldn’t hear back for weeks at a time. Whenever he asked about it, Mix would just shrug and tell him how busy Khaotung was. That he barely saw him either, even though they were attending the same university.
Years passed.
First kept trying. Kept working hard. He wanted to show Khaotung that he had never forgotten the promises he made to him all those years ago.
Even if, sometimes, it felt like Khaotung had slowly forgotten about him.
After all, First was just his friend’s younger brother.
He couldn’t expect much.
No matter how much he wanted to.
When it came time for First to start filling out his university applications, the decision was easy.
There had never really been another option in his mind.
He applied to the same university Mix and Khaotung had gone to.
His mother had found it adorable. She cooed over him at the kitchen table while he filled out the forms, teasing him about how sweet it was that he wanted to follow so closely in his older brother’s footsteps.
First just smiled and shrugged.
She didn’t know about the promise that had lived quietly in the back of his mind for years.
Est, his best friend, didn’t care nearly as much about where he ended up. As long as the school had a good swimming program, he was happy.
So when they sat down together to finish their applications, Est simply glanced at First’s choices and wrote down the same ones.
“Guess we’re roommates again,” he said easily.
Months later they opened their acceptances together, shouting loud enough to startle First’s mom in the next room.
First tried not to think too much about the fact that he was finally going to the same place Khaotung had once studied.
It had been years since they’d really spoken properly.
Still, the thought lingered quietly in his chest.
When move-in day arrived, First hauled his boxes into his dorm with Est complaining dramatically beside him about how many books he had brought.
Once everything was finally unpacked, First did something he hadn’t done in a while.
He reached out to Khaotung.
The reply came a little later that evening.
Khaotung was back home with his family for a couple of weeks, he explained, waiting for his new job to begin.
First tried not to let the disappointment settle too heavily in his chest.
By the time Khaotung returned to the city, life had already started moving quickly.
Khaotung was busy beginning his new job.
First was busy navigating the chaos of freshman year—orientation events, introductory classes, and slowly learning how to take care of himself now that there wasn’t anyone hovering nearby to remind him what to do.
Est wasn’t much help in that department either. They were both new to the city and just as lost as each other most days.
But orientation had at least introduced them to a few people.
Force.
Book.
And Mark.
By the end of the first month, the five of them had already started sticking together.
Even so, every once in a while, First would catch himself wondering the same thing he had wondered all those years ago.
When would he see Khaotung again?
· · ·
On a random Tuesday during his sophomore year, First was walking across campus toward the cafeteria to meet his friends when his phone started ringing.
Assuming it was Book asking where he was, First answered immediately without even checking the screen.
“What’s up?” he said into the phone.
“Oh—nong?”
The voice on the other end made him pause mid-step.
First blinked in confusion and slowly pulled the phone away from his ear, glancing down at the screen.
Phi Khao.
For a moment he just stared at it.
“Phi?” he said, bringing the phone back to his ear, his voice suddenly uncertain.
“Were you expecting someone else?” Khaotung asked.
His voice was warm—familiar in a way that made something strange stir in First’s chest. A soft chuckle followed, the sound traveling straight through the phone and settling somewhere dangerously close to First’s heart.
“Honestly, phi… yeah,” First admitted, rubbing the back of his neck as he started walking again. “I thought one of my friends was calling to ask where I was. I—uh…”
The words tangled in his mouth.
It had been years since he’d felt this awkward talking to Khaotung.
His mind suddenly went completely blank.
“That’s okay,” Khaotung said easily. “I haven’t called in a long time. That’s to be expected.”
First let out a small, nervous laugh, not quite sure how to respond to that.
The hallway around him buzzed with students passing by, but he barely noticed any of it as he slowly came to a stop in the middle of the walkway.
“Is everything okay?” he asked carefully.
“Yes—of course,” Khaotung says quickly. “I just… well. I have to leave for a business trip and all of my friends are busy and—uh—honestly, I need help with something. I figured I could count on you, nong.”
The rambling slows near the end, his voice softening into that familiar, gentle tone.
First can feel heat creeping up his face.
“Of course, phi,” he replies immediately. “I’m happy to help. What do you need? Right now? I can tell my friends to grab notes for the rest of my classes today—”
He’s already turning around, heading in the opposite direction as if he needs to go somewhere immediately.
Khaotung laughs.
The sound stops him in his tracks.
“No, not right now,” Khaotung says, still amused. “Just later. I’m leaving in about an hour and I need someone to cat-sit for me for the next week.”
First blinks.
“A week?”
“If it’s not too much trouble,” Khaotung continues, “you could even stay at my place while I’m gone so you don’t have to make too many trips back and forth. I’ll send you the address and the door codes. I also have a binder with instructions—you can read through it when you get there. I’ll leave it on the counter.”
He pauses for a moment.
“If that’s okay?”
First’s heart is pounding.
It’s been months since they last caught up properly—just a few quick texts here and there. And now Khaotung is asking him for something important. Trusting him with his apartment. With his cat.
“Absolutely,” First says quickly. “I’d love to do that for you.”
He hears a relieved sigh from the other end of the call.
“You’re a lifesaver. Truly. I appreciate it,” Khaotung says warmly. “I can pay you too.”
First is already shaking his head before he remembers Khaotung can’t see him.
“No, no need.”
“Okay,” Khaotung replies after a second. “But I’m still leaving some money for food on the counter. Make sure you eat well.”
First huffs a quiet laugh.
“I really have to go now,” Khaotung continues. “I still have a few things to finish before I leave. But we’ll catch up when I get back, okay?”
A small part of First deflates at that, he had hoped maybe they’d see each other before the trip.
Still, he nods instinctively.
“Yes, phi. Travel safely. I’ll keep an eye out for your message.”
Khaotung hums softly in acknowledgment.
Then the line goes quiet.
· · ·
As soon as First managed to pack a bag, he made his way to the address Khaotung had sent him.
It took nearly forty-five minutes to find the building, but once he did, he found himself bouncing lightly on the balls of his feet in front of the entrance.
It had been years since he’d felt this close to Khaotung.
First took a couple of steady breaths before pushing through the front doors into the lobby. His eyes wandered as he walked, taking in the space around him—the quiet sitting area, the polished floors, the small café tucked into one corner. It was nicer than anything he had expected.
Khaotung had sent him incredibly detailed instructions: where to park, which elevator to take, what floor to get off on, even the exact code for the front door.
Following them step by step, First made it all the way to the apartment without any trouble.
Standing in front of the door, he couldn’t help smiling to himself. He quickly typed in the code Khaotung had given him. The lock clicked open.
When First pushed the door open, the first thing that greeted him was the smell.
Floral. Soft musk underneath it.
It filled the air immediately, wrapping around his senses in a way that made his chest feel oddly tight. First couldn’t remember ever being close enough to Khaotung to know what he smelled like—at least not well enough to remember it. Maybe he had once, years ago. Or maybe it had simply been too long.
Either way, the scent felt unmistakably his.
First slipped inside, carefully glancing around his feet to make sure no cat tried to dart past him before he shut the door behind him.
Once it clicked closed, he finally let himself look around properly.
The apartment was small but not cramped. Just comfortable.
A small kitchenette sat just off the entryway, with a round dining table tucked neatly beside it. Beyond that was a cozy living space with a soft-looking couch facing a low table and a bookshelf filled with neatly stacked records and books.
The art on the walls caught his attention next.
It was brighter than he expected. Modern pieces with bold colors and abstract shapes—funky, but still tasteful somehow.
It felt… like Khaotung.
As First wandered a little deeper into the apartment, he noticed a record player sitting on top of a cabinet beside a closed door.
He stared at it for a moment.
That must be Khaotung’s bedroom.
Which meant—
First blinked.
That was probably where he was supposed to sleep.
The thought alone made his stomach twist slightly with sudden awkwardness.
Sleeping in Khaotung’s bed felt… strange. Too personal.
After a moment of consideration, First rubbed the back of his neck and glanced over at the couch again.
Yeah.
Maybe he’d just take the couch.
As he stood there considering it, his eyes drifted back to the couch. That’s when he noticed the small lump under the blanket tossed across it.
First tilted his head.
Feeling a little ridiculous, he still called out softly into the quiet apartment.
“Hello?”
He stepped closer, moving slowly as if he didn’t want to startle anything, before dropping down to his knees beside the couch. Leaning his arms against the cushion, he carefully lifted the edge of the blanket.
A pair of wide yellow eyes blinked up at him.
“Oh,” First breathed.
The cat shifted back slightly as the blanket moved, its ears flicking forward in curiosity. First slowly lifted a hand and held it out, letting it hover close enough for the cat to sniff without pushing into its space.
The cat stayed perfectly still for a moment.
First froze too, careful not to move.
After a few seconds, the cat leaned forward just a little, its nose twitching as it took in his scent. Once it seemed satisfied, it settled back down against the couch cushion and calmly looked away, as if the interaction had been its idea the entire time.
First smiled.
“You’re so cute,” he whispered.
He gently reached forward and scratched lightly behind the cat’s ear. The cat allowed it for a moment before blinking slowly at him.
“Guess we’re roommates for the week, huh?”
After another small scratch, First pushed himself up off the floor and glanced around the apartment.
“I should probably find out your name, huh, baby?”
As he turned toward the kitchen, he immediately spotted the bright white binder Khaotung had mentioned sitting neatly on the counter.
Montow.
The name was written at the top of the page in neat, rounded handwriting.
First blinked down at it.
There was no way Khaotung had written that.
First remembered his handwriting clearly from years ago—the messy, slanted chicken scratch that filled the notes he used to send him while helping with homework. This was completely different. Soft. Careful. Almost cute.
A small feeling of unease settled in his chest.
So… who wrote it?
Mix had mentioned a girlfriend of Khaotung’s once a couple of years ago. Just once, casually in passing, and then never again. First had assumed it meant the relationship hadn’t lasted very long.
But maybe that wasn’t the case.
Maybe she was still around.
The thought made his mouth pull into a slight frown before he forced himself to focus again, flipping through the binder and reading the instructions written neatly across the page.
It wasn’t surprising how detailed everything was.
Feeding times. Favorite toys. Which window Montow liked to sit near in the afternoons. Even which brand of treats he preferred.
Still…
If Khaotung had a girlfriend, why would he ask First to cat-sit?
Wouldn’t she do it?
Unless…
First’s thoughts started wandering again.
Maybe it wasn’t actually a business trip.
Maybe—
No.
He stopped himself immediately.
That wasn’t any of his business.
First dropped his eyes back down to the page, trying to read again, but the words refused to stick in his head.
With a quiet huff, he closed the binder and set it down on the counter.
Khaotung wouldn’t lie to him. There would be no reason for that.
So the most logical explanation was that Khaotung was single.
Maybe he had just asked a friend to help write the instructions. Someone who had cat-sat for him before.
Yeah.
That made more sense.
First shook his head slightly, trying to clear the thoughts away, before reaching down to grab his bag. And maybe he should find the bathroom.
His eyes drifted toward the far wall. The record cabinet sat neatly between two closed doors. One of them had to be Khaotung’s bedroom.
First hoped he wouldn’t have to open that one while he was staying here.…although now that he thought about it—
Would that bother Montow? Not being able to go into a room in his own home?
First figured the door closest to the kitchen had to be the bathroom, so he pushed it open and immediately sighed in relief when he saw he was right.
He stepped inside, setting his bag down on the closed toilet lid before pulling out a few necessities. As he did, his eyes drifted across the counter.
There were… a lot of skincare products. Bottles and jars lined up neatly, each one looking nicer—and probably more expensive—than the last. A bottle of contact solution sat among them, along with a couple of sleek glasses cases off to the side.
First paused.
Did Khaotung wear glasses now?
He tried to picture it.
But he couldn’t.
It had been years since he’d seen him in person. First had always avoided looking him up on social media. He knew exactly what would happen if he did, too many feelings he didn’t feel like dealing with. And Mix’s accounts were useless anyway. His brother spent most of his time posting pictures of his boyfriend these days, leaving very little room for anything else.
First sighed quietly and finished setting his things on the counter.
Just as he zipped his bag closed, his phone started ringing.
He pulled it out of his pocket.
Est.
First answered automatically, only realizing a second too late that it was a video call. Est’s face appeared first. Then Book suddenly shoved himself into the frame beside him.
“First, where are you?!” Book practically yelled.
“We came to bring you food and study together but you’re not here,” Est added.
“And your room is a mess!” Book accused dramatically.
First dragged a hand down his face.
He had completely forgotten to tell them what was happening.
Still holding the phone, he wandered back into the living room and dropped onto the couch.
“First!” Book demanded again.
“Sorry,” First sighed. “I forgot to tell you guys. A friend needed someone to cat-sit while he’s on a trip.”
He tilted the phone slightly.
Montow had now climbed onto the armrest beside him, staring curiously at the screen with wide yellow eyes.
Book and Est immediately started cooing.
“Oh my god he’s so cute!”
“Look at his face!”
“Can we come see him?”
“He looks so soft!”
First rolled his eyes.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he cut in.
“Aww, why not?” Book whined dramatically. “Look, the kitty is practically begging for better company.”
“Well, I don’t think it would be very respectful,” First said. “Maybe I can ask him next time I talk to him. I’ll be staying here for the week though, so don’t wait around for me.”
He lifted his hand toward Montow, who decided First was acceptable enough company for the moment. The cat rubbed against his fingers a couple of times before hopping down from the armrest and sauntering across the room. He settled beside a bowl on the floor, then turned to stare at First expectantly.
“Wait a second,” Book said suddenly, squinting at the screen. “Who is this guy?”
First froze.
“We know all your friends,” Book continued suspiciously. “None of them own a cat. And definitely none of them are going on trips right now.”
First felt his face heat slightly.
Before he could come up with an answer, Est leaned closer to the phone.
“Oh my god,” he said slowly. “Is it the guy you randomly call whenever you get stuck on assignments?”
First groaned quietly.
Est had witnessed that scene more times than he cared to admit. First would struggle with a problem for hours—pacing around their room, scribbling notes, sighing dramatically—until he finally picked up his phone and called someone.
Then, somehow, fifteen minutes later, the problem would be solved.Hours of frustration gone.
But what Est remembered most was the way First’s voice changed during those calls.
It always went softer. Quieter. Gentler than the way he spoke to anyone else.
Est had noticed it the first time.
And every time after that.
“Well… uh,” First said, rubbing the back of his neck. “He’s one of my phi’s friends. He’s helped me study for years, so yeah. He needed a favor and here I am.”
Book and Est exchanged a look.
“You’ve never mentioned him before,” Est said flatly.
First shrugged.
“Never needed to. We don’t talk that much and I haven’t seen him in a long time. It was last minute—he called me before lunch.”
Book squinted at him.
“We saw you at lunch and you didn’t mention a thing. Is that why you were acting weird?”
First gasped dramatically, placing a hand on his chest.
“I was not acting weird,” he protested. “You guys were acting weird. I ate lunch like normal and went about my day. I honestly forgot about it until I got home.”
Both of them just stared at him.
“Your room doesn’t look like you forgot,” Est said.
“Well I did forget,” First insisted. “That’s why it looks like that. I got his text and rushed to pack so I could come here.”
He hoped that sounded convincing. But also—why did he even need to convince them he didn’t care that much? Before he could say anything else, his phone buzzed again.
Phi Khao flashed across the screen.
“Guys, I gotta go,” First said quickly.
Before they could protest, he answered.
“Hello? Phi?”
“First!” Khaotung’s voice came through bright and warm. “Did you make it? How’s Montow?”
“Yes, I made it,” First said, glancing over at the cat. “Montow looks like he might punch me if I don’t feed him soon.”
Khaotung laughed.
“Good. Don’t feed him until the times written in the binder though. He’ll try to convince you he’s starving to death, but he’s not.”
First nodded along even though Khaotung couldn’t see him.
“Did you make it okay?” he asked.
“Me? Yeah,” Khaotung said. “I’m waiting to get picked up now. I still have a couple calls to make—I just wanted to make sure you got there safely. If you need anything, text or call me, okay?”
First hummed in agreement, though he felt a small wave of disappointment knowing Khaotung had to hang up so soon.
“Oh—also,” Khaotung added. “Could you maybe not tell Mix I asked you to do this? He’d kill me for bothering you while you’re in school.”
First snorted.
“As if he’d care. But yeah, no need to mention it anyway. He’s too busy with P’Earth.”
Khaotung laughed softly at that.
“Alright. Bye, nong.”
The call ended a moment later.
First sank back into the couch, staring at the ceiling for a second before glancing over at Montow.
The cat was now pawing aggressively at the food bowl, rattling it loudly against the floor before turning to stare at him expectantly. First sighed and pushed himself off the couch.
“Alright, alright,” he muttered, grabbing the binder again. “Let’s see when you’re actually supposed to eat.”
· · ·
First had spent half a week at Khaotung’s place and, so far, he considered it a massive success.
He had managed to stay out of Khaotung’s bedroom, keep the apartment clean, keep his friends away, and even bond with Montow. Everything was going perfectly.
Until he turned and saw Montow pawing at the bedroom door again.
For the third night in a row.
First sighed. It was only a matter of minutes before the howling started too. How he had managed to sleep through it the first couple of nights, he wasn’t entirely sure.It always started at almost the exact same time.
3:03 a.m.
The first night it had been 3:04.
The second night, 3:02.
And now tonight—
3:03.
First rubbed his eyes tiredly before pushing himself up from the couch and walking over to scoop the cat into his arms. Maybe Montow just needed some attention. He had already tried treats, playtime, and ignoring him completely. None of it had worked.
What he hadn’t expected was for the cat to immediately settle against his chest the moment he picked him up. Montow curled comfortably into him, paws kneading insistently into his shirt until they turned into slow little biscuits.
First chuckled quietly in the dark.
“Ooooh, aren’t you just the cutest kitty,” he whispered.
Montow purred louder. First scratched gently behind his ears.
“Do you miss your dad?” he asked softly.
Montow only kept kneading, his eyes slowly slipping closed as he relaxed.
“Khaotung must miss you a lot.”
At the name, Montow’s ears twitched. First smiled faintly.
“I know I would if I were him.”
His fingers continued moving through Montow’s fur in slow, soothing strokes.
After a moment, First let out a quiet sigh and leaned his head back against the couch.
He knew he wasn’t really talking to the cat. And he definitely wasn’t really talking about the cat.
Being in Khaotung’s apartment had filled his mind with nothing but Khaotung.
Thoughts he had carefully pushed away for years were suddenly everywhere again. The further he’d gotten from him growing up, the easier it had been to bury that familiar ache—missing him, wondering when he’d see him again. For a long time, that day never came.
He still hadn’t seen Khaotung in person since that week when he was twelve years old. And he never really understood why. Mix never brought him home again after that. First was never given the chance to visit them in the city either. He had hoped that this time, finally, he would get the chance to see him again.
But would seeing him once every six years really be enough?
Not really.
First had never quite figured out what to do with the feelings he had slowly come to understand over the years.
Khaotung had been his gay awakening—though he’d only learned that term much later. Even now, after all this time, First had never seen anyone more beautiful than him. The crush had never gone away.
It lived quietly in his chest, simmering in a small corner that seemed to belong to Khaotung and no one else.
First knew the truth, though. His hopes would probably never come true. And he had made peace with that a long time ago.
As long as he was allowed to stay somewhere in Khaotung’s orbit… as long as he could still be by his side in some way…
That would be enough.
· · ·
A couple of days later, when First finally made it back to Khaotung’s apartment, he was sweating, out of breath, and ready to collapse into a nap.
Unfortunately, there were things that had to be done first: Clean the litter. Start some laundry. Order food. Take a shower.
Montow padded after him through every step of it.
The cat supervised closely as First cleaned the litter box, perched on the counter while he shoved his dirty clothes into the washer, and sat at the edge of the couch watching intently while First finalized his food order. Then Montow followed him into the bathroom.
First sighed.
“Hey buddy, can I get some privacy?” he asked, glancing down at the cat as he pulled his shirt over his head. “I don’t really need you watching me shower.”
Montow blinked up at him.
First tried shooing him toward the door while unbuttoning his jeans, which now hung loosely around his hips.
“I know you miss your dad,” First continued, “but don’t you want some alone time too? I’m sure there are birds at the window or something. Anything.”
Montow only answered with another loud meow.
First scoffed softly before finally pushing his jeans the rest of the way down and stepping out of them.
When he glanced back at the cat, Montow had moved closer to the shower, sitting patiently beside the glass door as steam slowly began to fill the room.
Then the cat meowed again.
First frowned.
“What are you up to now?”
He didn’t expect an answer.
But somehow, he got one.
“He wants you to open the shower door for him. Did you even read the binder?”
First jumped so violently he nearly slipped. He caught himself at the last second, one hand slapping against the counter for balance.
Heart racing, he spun around.
Khaotung was leaning casually against the bathroom doorframe.
His hair was slicked back, styled in a way he hadn’t expected. A pair of glasses sat low on his nose, just enough that his eyes were visible over the top of them as he looked directly at First.
There was a small smirk playing on his lips.
First felt like he might actually die.
His heart was pounding so loudly he was certain Khaotung could hear it. Suddenly he felt hyperaware of everything—the sweat on his skin, the steam in the room, the fact that he was very much not fully dressed.
And Khaotung—
Khaotung.
Khaotung.
Khaotung.
He was right there.
Ten feet away.
Real.
Looking unfairly good and entirely too amused.
First’s brain stalled completely.
For years he had imagined seeing him again.
He had not imagined it happening like this.