Archive of Our Own ^beta

They’re lying on their bed. Arthit has his arms behind his head whilst Kongpob shifts closer to his side.

    Just by staring at the wall across him makes him wonder.

    “Hey,” Arthit starts, “How would you describe the color red if I was blind?”

    He can hear Kongpob rustling beside him.

    “What’s with the question, P’?”

    “Humor me,” says Arthit.

 
    His mind goes back earlier when his coworker told him about his girlfriend who happens to be blind. She had asked him how he would describe colors to her since she doesn’t know how they look. They all had a laugh when their coworker told the story not because of the question posed but how their acquaintance panicked and told some ridiculous things to her.

    In the end she just chuckled at how cute her boyfriend was, and their coworker flustered.

    But it got Arthit thinking.

    What if he was blind?

    How would Kongpob describe colors to him?

    “Kong –

    Before Arthit can even finish, Kongpob shifts on top of him, his legs locking Arthit on his place.

    “What are you –,” and then Kongpob kisses him, and Arthit can’t do anything but kiss back.

    “Red is when we kiss,” his boyfriend whispers in his ears.

    Kongpob kisses him again, but this time with more passion. “It’s the taste of your lips –

    Arthit sighs into his boyfriend’s lips, closes his eyes as Kongpob continues.

    “It’s the feeling when I touch you here,” Kongpob runs his hand under his shirt, teasing his right nipple.

    Arthit moans.

    “Red is when I kiss you here,” Kongpob breathes, kissing his neck to his shoulders to his collar bones, “And here, and here.”

    “Kongpob –

    “Red is when I make you feel hot,” Kongpob glances at him with hunger in his eyes, and Arthit understands. “Do I make you feel hot, P’Arthit?”

    He swallows.

    “We just . . . we just did it,”

    “Did what?”

    Arthit avoids eye contact, but Kongpob forces him to look.

    “Say it, P’Arthit,”

    “Sex,” he mutters.

    Kongpob kisses him again, smiling against Arthit’s lips, he says, “That’s red, too.”

    “Alright, alright, I get it,” he tries prying Kongpob above him, but his boyfriend is not budging, so he glares at him instead.

    Kongpob has this soft look in his eyes that reminds Arthit that they have been together for years to know that his boyfriend can read him like his favorite book.
    When Arthit didn’t make any move, Kongpob smiles at him before lying back next to him.

    And suddenly, without the weight of his boyfriend on top of him, his heart starts beating rapidly.

    “Red can also be the times when we fight,” he thinks his boyfriend is done teasing him, but Kongpob continues with a serious note.

    “I don’t like that particular kind of red,” Kongpob gives him a look.

    Arthit falls silent, not aware of the box he just opened. He merely wanted to know how Kongpob would describe the color to him if he was blind, but it’s turning into something more.

    “Red is when you told me to not talk to you again,” Kongpob adds, “It’s when I saw you with P’Namtarn. Red is when you kept pushing me away –

    “Kongpob –

    “But I have you now,” Kongpob smiles at him, not letting him finish. His boyfriend then laces their hands together and says, “And red is when you let me hold your hand.”

    Kongpob places their intertwined hands on Arthit’s chest, just against his heart.

    “Red is when I make your heart sing like this,”

    He blinks, failing to calm his raising heartbeat.

    “Red is every time you tell me you love me,” Kongpob smiles, whispering like it’s only meant for him. “It’s every time you remind me to eat, or when you call me how am I doing.

    “Red is when I met you.” Kongpob finishes with a kiss. “That’s my favorite type of red.”

    And suddenly, Arthit understands; Red is when Kongpob periodically reminds him to take a break; it’s when Kongpob buys him food when he’s too busy with work. It’s when Kongpob waits for him to get out of work so they could go home together. It’s when Kongpob sneaks in comforting touches when they’re in public because his boyfriend knows he’s not big on public displays of affection.

    At the same time, red is when they have misunderstandings and Arthit doesn’t know what to do with his frustrations. It’s when he gets insecure with himself, and it’s when he thinks if he’s enough for Kongpob.

    He doesn’t like that particular kind of red either.

    And in the darkness of their room, with Kongpob beside him and their hands linked together; the only color he sees is red.

    It’s all red.

    “What about you, P’Arthit?” Kongpob steals him from his musing. “How would you describe the color red to me if I was blind?”

    Arthit had already thought about it, but he’s not about to feed his boyfriend’s ego by telling him, so he settles with, “Red is the color of my alarm clock ringing,” before shifting to his side, hiding himself with the duvet.

    His cheeks feel hot, and he can hear Kongpob chuckling behind him before feeling his boyfriend’s arms snaking their way to his midsection.

    Arthit smiles, kissing the hands that make their way to his lips.

    “You don’t like that kind of red, don’t you?” Kongpob jests.

    “No I don’t,” he mumbles, playing along. 

     “The only red I like is you.”