Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Suppalo towered over Namo. He swallowed a shallow breath, the familiar air filling his lungs. It had been nine years, eleven months, and twenty-three days since he had stood on this campus. As he walked towards the door, he spotted the picnic table tucked away beside the elevated walkways where he had spent most of his high school days. A small smile tugged at his lips as flashes of jokes and adventures replayed in his mind. His life at Suppalo had a bittersweet stain in his memories. The good memories there had been brief, only lasting the last few months of senior year; but the bad Namo kept buried deep, pretending that if he emphasized the good, the others would dissipate.

As Namo reached the entrance, he paused, spotting a figure up ahead that he immediately recognized. It was Thua, but his eyes had sunken deeper into his head, and his chest had lifted into the body of a man. Namo clenched his jaw, the resentment still burning hot all these years later. Thua had wasted his friendship with Akk. Namo would have coveted it dearly, doing what ever it took to keep it from slipping through his fingers. He averted his gaze, pretending not to notice the other man. He doubted he could feign even artificial affection for him. Luckily, Thua didn’t seem to recognize him. They didn’t exchange a word, Thua simply stared at the ground, fiddling in his pocket until he retrieved a pack of cigarettes and a dark red lighter.

Steeling himself, Namo pushed open the door and stepped inside, the familiar scents of fresh ink and molding paper aggressively enveloping him. A small voice in his head told him to leave immediately, that this was his last chance to forget all about this miserable school, that he was opening a door he would never be able to close, but he quickly buried it. He couldn’t ignore the pull of the past. Besides, it would all be worth it if he could see his old friends.

The auditorium was harshly lit. A low chatter swirled around Namo as he made his way inside. His eyes anxiously scanned the crowd, searching for familiar faces from his class. The room had been converted into a dance hall with balloons lining the walls and music thumping from the makeshift dance floor. There was even a photo booth set aside in the corner with props and everything. A few tables covered in blue plastic tablecloths sat beside a provisional bar and food table.

The dance floor was empty, as expected, and only a few couples had made their way to their tables. That’s when he spotted them, Akk and Ayan, tucked away in a quiet corner, their bodies angled intimately towards each other. A small smile played across Namo’s lips; he always knew they would stay together. Namo saw Ayan’s mouth move inaudibly, causing Akk to smile, that smile that made his eyes crinkle and disappear completely. He threw his head back and leaned fully into Ayan. Namo smiled. He was glad to see Akk so happy and confident, a welcome contrast to how he had known him. His gaze slid to another table where Kan sat. He looked exactly the same, hot in an annoying jock kind of way, a sly smile playing on his lips. His arm was limply hanging around a woman that gave Namo pause. She looked older, far too old to be one of their peers. He furrowed his brow, scanning the others at the table.

Despite studying every face, Wat was nowhere to be found. A subtle ache settled into Namo’s chest. No matter how much distance life could put between them, Wat would always hold a sacred place in Namo’s heart. If Namo was honest with himself, Wat was the only reason he had any good memories of Suppalo. Back then, Namo was an outcast. No matter how desperately he tried to shove his way in, he was a reject, but Wat made him feel wanted. Maybe Wat had simply moved on, leaving this god awful school permanently behind him. That thought settled Namo’s nerves, though his eyes kept straying back to the entrance, hoping against hope Wat would walk through the doors.

Namo's mind drifted back to a particular sunny afternoon shortly after their graduation. He had been strolling across the quad when a hunched figure caught his eye. Wat was sitting alone on a bench, veiled by a blooming Sakura tree, staring intently at his diploma.

"Wat? Hey, what are you doing out here?" Namo called out, startling him. Wat looked up with a troubled expression. There was a prolonged pause as Wat carefully weighed his words.

"Just, you know, thinking about the future, I guess." He lazily combed his hair with his hand.

Namo took a seat beside him, picking up a cherry blossom and rolling it in his hands. “The future? I thought you were joining the engineering faculty.”

"Yeah...engineering," Wat mumbled, fidgeting with the diploma cover. There was a heavy pause before he finally spoke up. "To be honest, I'm not sure that's really what I want."

Namo raised an inquisitive eyebrow. Wat had always been one of the top students in their class. "What do you mean? You're gonna make a killing as an engineer."

"I know, I know. It's just..." Wat's voice trailed off as he gazed wistfully across the lawn. "Have you ever felt like you were meant for something else?"

"Like what?"

"Filmmaking," A dreamy reverie briefly came over Wat's face before the tension resurfaced. "But I could never tell my parents that. They'd disown me."

“It is impractical.” Namo bent over and fidgeted with his shoe. “I’m in faculty of engineering too.” An uncomfortable quiet hung between them. Namo shifted in his seat, unsure of what to say to fill the silence. “Wat-“

"Forget it, it's dumb," Wat said abruptly, snapping the diploma shut with finality. He flashed Namo a tight, forced smile. "Engineering is a good path, you're right. Stable career and all that." He swiftly nodded and stood, abandoning Namo with a crumpled Sakura in his hands.

Ten years later, Namo found his seat at an empty table, each one was marked with old class photographs indicating where graduates should sit. He stared at the faded image of his younger self, cringing at his overconfident grin, the arrogant tilt of his head, and the utterly oblivious look in his eyes. The snapshot reminded him of who he had been back then, an insecure, shallow boy with an armor of bravado to mask his own diffidence. He was always so desperate to be cool and popular, even if it meant tearing others down to elevate himself even a little. It was him at his ugliest.

Namo was shaken out of his thoughts as two people joined him at the table. It took a few seconds before he recognized them as Jamnong and Jamnan. The two looked up, surprise registering on their faces before turning to slightly forced smiles. “Hey,” Namo offered a small nod, inwardly cringing at Jamnan’s subtle flinch. He supposed he deserved that and worse, considering how he had treated them in school. Namo opened his mouth to apologize, before realizing nothing he could say could make up for anything that had happened to them at Suppalo.

Jamnong cleared his throat. "So, uh, how have you been? Heard you went into chemical engineering."

"I did, yeah," Namo replied, rubbing the back of his neck self-consciously. "But honestly, it’s not all it’s cracked up to be. It's just...work, you know?" He could have said more, could have admitted to the soul-deep emptiness of drifting towards a life of silent existential torment.

Jamnong spoke up again. "So, did you see anyone else here tonight? Seems like a pretty good turnout so far."

He wet his lips apprehensively. "Actually, I was wondering…where's Jamnian?" Namo asked cautiously, an uneasy feeling settling in his gut. "I didn't see him with you guys."

The smiles immediately drained from Jamnan and Jamnong's faces, replaced by naked sadness. Jamnan crumpled in on himself, his eyes squeezing shut. Namo’s heart plummeted, realizing with cold clarity he had just committed some massive social misstep. He always ruined the conversation. The silence hung oppressively until finally Jamnan spoke in a dull monotone. "You didn’t hear? Jamnian...he's gone, Namo. Took his own life a few years back."

The words felt like a punch to the gut, stealing Namo's breath, leaving him gutted and reeling. Jamnian...that bright, cheerful, annoying presence was gone from this world? Namo's mind instantly flooded with memories of how awful he had been, mercilessly mocking and belittling him. A wave of nausea rolled over him. All those callous words he had flung without care. Had he contributed to this?

“I...I'm so sorry," he managed to stammer out, but the words felt woefully inadequate, inappropriately small against the weight of this vicissitude.

"I blame this fucking school." Jamnan spat out bitterly, glaring at Namo with stripped hatred.

Namo felt like he might actually be sick. He had contributed to this unspeakable pain, this loss of young life. His head was swimming, overloaded with guilt and regret. "Excuse me," He murmured shakily, turning on his heel and rushing from the table. He needed to get some air, to escape the searing affliction that had just been hurled at him.

Chapter Text

Namo barely made it to the bathroom before doubling over the sink, gripping the edges until his knuckles turned white. He gasped for air, his whole body writhing with the force of his emotions.

Jamnian was gone; The relentlessly optimistic presence who had fought tirelessly for the rights and acceptance of people like him. People like him. Namo grimaced at his own words, bile rising in his throat. And Namo had played a part, however small, in dimming that brilliant light. Wave after wave of guilt and regret crashed over him as haunting memories resurfaced, all the times he had put down the Jam’s antics and poor Jamnian had endured the brunt of it, year after year. Until eventually the relentless mockery had pushed him to a point of despair where the cold clutches of death felt preferable to this life.

Namo slammed his fist against the bathroom tile, his jaw clenched in anguish. A jolt of pain shot through his hand as his knuckles connected with the porcelain sink. How could he have been so thoughtlessly cruel? Cutting people down to make himself feel better about his own repressed insecurities. He pulled his fist back with a hiss, uncurling his fingers to reveal an oozing gash, blood dripping from the split skin. Namo watched with a twisted sense of satisfaction as the crimson drops stripped the white tile. The physical pain was almost a relief, a tangible manifestation of the agony tearing apart his side.

Shame and self-loathing burned through Namo like a scorching fire. His reflection stared back at him in the mirror, eyes hallow and haunted. The face looking back at him was a stranger. He was a terrible person. All these years he had been coasting through life, comfortably numb to his past. Convincing himself he had grown, that he had moved on and left that cruel, insecure boy behind. He wanted to crawl out of his own skin, to shed this tainted shell and become someone—anyone—else. He had hurt people, deeply and irreparably. Inflicted wounds that festered and deformed into something unimaginable. How many others had he carved his initials into? The thought made him dizzy.

Taking a shaky breath, Namo straightened his collar and ran a hand through his disheveled hair. He pushed himself away from the wall and began to move. He had no destination in mind, simply needing to propel himself forward on wobbling legs, to outrun his suffocating thoughts. The chatter from the reunion party faded behind him as he stumbled blindly down the corridor. He grasped at the abhorrently orange walls. Turning the corner, Namo’s feet caught on an uneven patch of concrete. He lurched forward and slammed into the wall. A framed photograph crashed onto the floor, the glass shattering at his feet in a spray of shards. The sound echoed in the empty hall. He slid on to the floor, cradling his throbbing wrist as hot tears blurred his vision.

Namo’s mind raced, memories flooding back unbidden. The first time he had ever cut himself was at this school, in a bathroom not unlike the one he had just fled. The familiar urge clawed at him, promising a moment of quiet serenity. He sat there for what felt like an eternity, his breath coming in ragged grasps. The shards of glass glinted temptingly. With trembling fingers, he reached out, his hand closing around a shard, the corner digging sharply into his palm. He squeezed his eyes shut and shakily glided the glass over his wrist, carefully avoiding his radial artery. Throbbing pain radiated up his arm and pulsated at his cut. Rolling down his sleeve, he pressed the fabric against the newly formed beads of red, leaving a dark stain. He pulled his hand back, curling in on himself as sobs wracked through his body.

His entire body relaxed into the wall. Namo’s mind suddenly went blank, the storm of emotions subsiding. All he could feel was the pain in his arm. In his numbed state, only one thought pierced through: Jamnian. It was fucking ridiculous that he had to return and discuss his work with these people when someone had died. Did everyone else know? Was he the only one left in the dark?

With a deep breath, Namo pushed himself off the ground and wandered back the way he came. He was determined to see if the others felt the same way as him.

The noise of the auditorium hit Namo like a brick. The room was surely now at full capacity now. Bodies pressed close in the crowded room, the air thick with perfume, aftershave, and nervous excitement. A heavyset man, standing on some sort of makeshift stage, was reading trivia questions off of note cards. His voice barely carried over the din of conversation and clinking glasses. Namo was certain only the front two tables could hear him. The lazy chatter alone was hard to break through. Or maybe that was his blood rushing in his ears.

A hand shot up enthusiastically and waved. Akk’s grinning face emerged from the crowd, beckoning Namo over. A mix of relief and dread washed over him as he was weaving through the throng. Namo pressed his left sleeve into his cut wrist, the fabric rough against the raw skin. He winced slightly as he watched his sleeve darken. “We were starting to think you bailed on us!” Akk beamed. He awkwardly pulled Namo into a brief side-hug.

Namo forced a chuckle, releasing himself and sliding into an empty seat at their table. “Yeah, sorry. Just needed some air.” Namo mumbled, his throat constricting around the lie. “So, how have you guys been?”

As Akk launched into a litany of life updates Namo gaze drifted to Ayan. The other man sat quietly, nursing a drink, his eyes occasionally flicking to Namo with an unreadable expression.

“Anyway, enough about us. What are you up to?” Akk concluded expectantly.

“Oh,” Namo swallowed dryly, his mind a blank canvas of panic. The truth echoed in his head: I made someone kill themselves. “Just work I guess.” After ten whole years not one thing had changed. God, he really was pathetic.

“So, Namo,” Ayan’s voice cut through Akk’s chatter. “Have you talked to Thua?”

Thua. That sanctimonious prick. “No,” He managed, his voice barely a whisper. “I just saw him outside earlier.”

Ayan’s frown deepened. A shadow passed over his features as he nodded slowly. It hadn't alluded Namo that Ayan didn't say a single word regarding Namo himself. Nothing new there. He knew deep down that he would never actually be considered a friend by any of them. He would always be the annoying boy they pitied and nothing else.

“What about you, Namo? You married yet?” Akk chirped, clearly trying to change the subject.

The question hit like a punch to the gut, knocking the wind out of Namo. “No,” He said simply, feeling a lump forming in his throat. Akk’s face reeked of pity before he briskly covered it with more small talk and fake smiles.

Oh, god. After all these years, most of his peers had settled down, gotten married, and started families, while his own romantic foray consisted of just a few failed relationships over the years. If they could even be considered relationships. He really was a loser, perpetually stuck in a state of arrested development while everyone else moved forward.

Ayan seemed to notice the pained look on Namo’s face and his gaze dropped to his bloodied hand. “Hey, what happened there? You okay?”

“Ah, yeah…sorry,” Namo mumbled, rising abruptly. “I’ll just…clean this up.” The sudden movement made his head spin, the room tilting dangerously.

He stumbled to the bar area, reaching for a napkin with trembling fingers. In his haste, he accidentally bumped into someone, sending their drink sloshing over the counter. “Sorry,” Namo frantically used a half-bloodied napkin to wipe up the mess, smearing red across the polished wood. God he was fucking up left and right. No wonder he never amounted to anything. He regretted cutting himself in the first place. What kind of lunatic cuts in public, especially since he desperately wanted to see his friends again. Although they didnt consider him a friend.

“Hey, watch it!” A familiar voice snapped. Namo’s blood ran cold as he looked up into Thua’s face. He turned with an irritated look that morphed into surprise, his gaze boring into Namo like a drill. “Namo?”

He stank of cigarettes and coffee, his teeth reflecting those habits in a sickly yellow grin. He looked awfully like his stepfather now, weathered and bitter. The years had not been kind to Thua, etching deep lines of resentment into his face. Namo forced a smile and mumbled an apology halfheartedly, pressing a handful of napkins to his wrist and knuckles. “How have you been?” Thua asked, his tone dripping with artificial politeness. Namo just gave a non-committal grunt, still focused on wiping his hand. Undeterred, Thua continued. “Have you talked to Kan recently? I saw him over there with his new girlfriend.” The bitterness in his voice was palpable as he nodded towards a table across the room. “She’s too old for him.”

Namo nodded his head and quickly excused himself without another word, walking towards Akk and Ayan at their table. Thua just stood there and continued to watch Kan and his new girlfriend from afar. Namo returned to the table and decided to tell Ayan about his interaction after concluding that that was the only way Ayan would talk to him. Maybe that's why they had all been friends with him back in school. Just to get information. Namo observed a lot after all. “That was Thua I just ran into.” He muttered to Ayan, who rolled his eyes. “Literally,” He mumbled.

“God, I hate him.” Ayan hissed, shooting a dark look across the room to where Thua sat watching. “You remember when he outed us? In front of the whole school.” Ayan shook his head and took a sip of his drink. “Could’ve ruined our lives if things went differently.” He whispered in Namo’s direction.

Guilt twisted Namo’s insides. If Ayan still harbored this much resentment after a single incident, he could scarcely imagine how must Jamnian had felt after years of torment. Torment Namo had crafted with careful, cruel precision. He pressed his sleeve into his open wrist, the pain a welcome distraction from his thoughts. At least Jamnian was free from that torment now. God was he trying to come up with a bright side of someone ending their life? Desperately attempting to avoid the guilt, but he would never be able to escape what he had done.

“Hey, Akk! Ayan!” A cheerful voice cut through Namo’s spiraling thoughts. He looked up to see Kan approaching, a petite woman on his arm. Akk and Kan settled into a familiar banter. They’d kept in touch. Not one of them had spoken to Namo since the day of graduation, but they still talked after ten years. He felt nauseas.

“Oh, this is my girlfriend, Fah.” Kan beamed, his arm wrapped protectively around her.

As introductions were made, Namo’s mind drifted back to a day in high school, the memory as vivid as if it had been yesterday.

The acrid smell of pot hung heavy in the air, mingling with the harsh scent of disinfectant. Namo had just pushed open the bathroom door when he heard raised voices echoing off the walls.

“You think you’re better than us?” A sneer. The sound of someone being shoved against a wall, flesh meeting cold tile with a dull thud. “That prefect title doesn’t mean shit,”

Namo froze, his hand still on the doorknob. His heart raced, torn between the instinct to flee and the morbid curiosity to see how this would play out.

“I didn’t say I was better than you.” Kan’s voice, strained but steady. “Just making sure you’re following the rules.”

A chorus of mocking laughter. “We know why you’re really here. Come to meet your boyfriend didn’t you?” The voice dripped with venom. “Where is that fa-“

His words were cut off by the unmistakable sound of flesh hitting flesh. A pained grunt, then chaos erupted. The bathroom exploded into a flurry of movement and shouts. Namo’s flight or fight response kicked in, and he chose flight, slipping out of the bathroom as quietly as he had entered. Shame burning hot in his cheeks as he retreated.

Although, he couldn’t bring himself to leave entirely. Namo hovered near the lockers, his stomach churning. He should go back. He should help Kan, but the thought of being labeled, of becoming a target himself… The fear paralyzed him, rooting him to the spot as, after a few moments, he watched the other boys run out. The bathroom door burst open with a bang that echoed through the empty hall. Kan stumbled out, one hand clutching his stomach, the other pinching his bloodied nose. His eyes were wild, darting around until they landed on Namo. In that moment Kan looked small and vulnerable, something Namo had ever seen in him.

“Are you alright?” The words tumbled out of Namo’s mouth before he could stop them.

Kan’s eyes narrowed, with a mix of pain and suspicion. “What did you see?” He demanded.

Namo’s gaze dropped to the floor, unable to meet Kan’s accusing stare. He was certain he would be mad at Namo for abandoning him there, for being a coward. “Nothing,” He mumbled.

“I’m not gay,” Kan blurted out.

“I know,” Namo replied quickly, then hesitated. “Why do people think you are?”

Kan’s face contorted, a maelstrom of emotions flashing across his face—fear, anger, hurt, and something deeper Namo couldn’t quite name.

“What would you know about it?” Kan spat, taking an intimidating step forward. His eyes blazed with a mix of pain and furry. “It’s not like you’ve ever had a girlfriend. Maybe you’re the one we should be wondering about.”

Namo recoiled, pain and anger burning in his chest. Before he could formulate a response Kan shouldered past him, leaving a smear of blood on Namo’s shirt.

The present rushed back into focus as Fah’s laughter rang out. Namo studied her, noting the fine lines around her eyes, the confidence in her posture. There was a warmth in her that seemed to soften Kan’s edges. “How old are you, Fah?” He heard himself ask, immediately regretting the words as they fell out of his mouth. Why the fuck had he said that.

“I’m 40,” She replied with a smile. Her voice reminded Namo of caramel. There was no defensiveness in her tone, just a calm assurance that made Namo feel even more out of place.

An uncomfortable silence fell over the table. Even Kan shifted awkwardly in his seat. “Don’t you know you’re not supposed to ask a woman that? You never could read a room.” Kan scoffed. Namo squirmed in his seat, hyper aware of every eye on him. The only reason he was sitting at that table was because they all pitied him. Even after all this time he had no friends, no wife, no meaningful achievement.

Fah gently set her hand on Kan’s and gave him a reassuring smile. “It’s alright.”

As the conversation resumed around him Namo found himself noticing Fah’s graceful movements. To his surprise, he realized he actually found her quite pretty. He didn’t usually find women attractive, but Fah was soft and inviting. And her eyes… Her eyes looked just like Wat’s, full of excitement and life. He wished Wat had come. Although he never found himself appreciating physical appearance, he had always noticed Wat's eyes.

“I…I should go,” He mumbled, pushing his chair back from the table. Everyone here clearly didnt care whether he stayed or left, and he had already taken someone's life. He needed to stop making an impact on peoples lives. It never helped anyway. He made everyone's life completely miserable, never adding anything good at all.

Ayan rose with him, concern etched on his face. Everyone else paid him no mind, besides Akk who gave him a small nod before falling back into a familiar chatter, Namo’s departure barely causing a ripple in the flow of conversation.

As they reached the exit, Ayan pressed a slip of paper into Namo’s hand. “Listen, I’m throwing a party for Akk next weekend. You should come,” His voice lowered. “And…this is Wat’s number. They don’t know I kept in touch with him, so don’t tell.” He smiled.

“I won’t,” Namo stared at the paper, emotions warring within him as he stumbled into the cold night air. He was surprised Ayan wanted him there. And even more surprised that he was keeping a secret from his husband. Why was it a secret anyway? He knew all four of them were still friends, excluding Thua now. They all went to college together and posted pictures together for years. He had basically stalked their social medias until one day he just couldnt take it anymore and unfollowed them all. They had never even followed him.

The drive home passed in a blur, streetlights smearing into colors. His mind raced, replaying every awkward interaction, every pitying glance, every moment of discomfort. As Namo fumbled with his apartment keys the facade he’d maintained most of the night crumbled. He barely made it through the door before the first sob tore through his throat. He stumbled to the bathroom, gripping the sink as tears streamed down his face. The cool porcelain was the only thing that felt real in that moment.

How could he feel so much, hurt so deeply, when everyone else seemed to have moved on? The question burned in his mind. He was still stuck, still drowning in the past while others sailed so smoothly. Rage and self-loathing boiled over. With a guttural cry Namo’s fist connected with the mirror. Glass shattered, raining down into the sink and slicing into his arm. Blood mixed with tears as he sank to the floor, cradling his injured limb. Namo watched, detached, as crimson droplets fell to the tile floor.

Through the haze of pain and emotion Namo’s eyes fell to his phone. Without bothering to stem the flow of blood, he grabbed it with shaking hands, leaving smears of red on the screen. He opened his Instagram application, clicking on the search section and typing in Jamnian's real name. He had never forgotten it. Two accounts popped up. One had an old, blurry profile picture that he couldnt quite make out. The other was a photo of a man too old to be Jamnian. He clicked on the first profile. The bio had a thai flag and the date May 11th. There were no photos posted, so he clicked the tagged tab which had three pictures. They were all posted by Jamnong or Jamnan's accounts. All three were pictures from when he was in school. One in particular caught his attention. It was a photo of the three of them smiling in front of the school from their freshman year. The caption read 'The start of something amazing.' Namo broke down in sobs. Jamnian was too young, too happy, too pure to have been snuffed out. His entire body was shaking with cries. He absentmindedly closed Instagram and opened his messages. He typed out the number Ayan had given him and started typing out a message.

'Wat, It’s Namo. I don’t know if you remember me, but…can we meet? I need someone to talk to.' His thumb hovered over the send button, heart pounding. What if Wat didn’t remember him? Or worse, what if he did, but wanted nothing to do with him? With a deep breath he pressed the send button. The soft whoosh sound felt momentous.

Namo closed his messages application and locked his phone before he could consider how desperate he sounded. As the adrenaline began to fade, exhaustion settled over him. He remained on the floor, too drained to move, as the minutes ticked by. In the stillness, he felt a strange sense of calm, leaning his head back against the cool tile he closed his eyes against the wreckage of his bathroom and life.

Chapter Text

Namo waited anxiously on a bench under a cherry blossom tree, the delicate pink petals occasionally drifting down around him. He rehearsed what he was going to say over and over in his mind, his heart racing with anticipation. He wiped his sweating hands on his jeans. What if Wat didn’t show? What if he did, but things were awkward? A thousand what ifs swirled in Namo’s head, each more anxiety-inducing than the last. He took a deep breath, trying to calm the butterflies in his stomach. He had received a text back from Wat the morning after agreeing to meet. Namo desperately regretted saying he needed someone to talk to. Wat wouldnt care about how no one cared about Namo and he couldnt bare to admit that he was the reason Jamnian was dead.

As he sat there, his eyes wandered the bustling train station. He tried to distract himself by observing the people around him, but every face reminded him of Wat in some way. A businessman with intense eyes hurrying by, a student with a poetic air around her. It was as if the whole world was conspiring to keep Wat at the forefront of his thoughts. A small cherry blossom fell into his lap. He picked it up and began carefully plucking off its petals one by one. “He’ll come, he won’t come, he’ll come, he won’t come,” Namo muttered under his breath, peeling each petal.

A man sat down beside him on the bench. Namo’s heart raced, hope and doubt warring within him. He studied the stranger’s profile, searching for any hint of familiarity. The set of his shoulders, the nervous energy radiating from him, it all felt both foreign and achingly familiar. Namo’s mind raced trying to reconcile the Wat of his memories with this frail, haunted figure beside him.

He looked panicked. His fingers twitched relentlessly in his lap. A mop of shiny black hair covered his face. Namo’s heart leaped in his throat. He was almost recognizable now.

"Are you alright?" Namo asked, concern coloring his voice. He leaned in slightly, trying to get a better view of the man’s face without being too obvious.Namo felt a mix of worry and disappointment. This couldn’t be Wat, could it? The Wat he remembered was always so confident, always authentically himself.

Namo tried again, gently placing a hand on the man's shoulder. He could feel the tremors running through the his body. "Hey, is everything okay?"

The man flinched, shrugging off Namo's touch. He turned, finally meeting Namo's gaze. In that instant, Namo's breath caught in his throat, his lungs suddenly devoid of air. Those eyes—he would know them anywhere. “Wat,” He said breathlessly.

A decade had passed, but those eyes still held the same depth, the same intensity that had captivated Namo in their youth. Yet now, they were shadowed with an immense pain that made Namo's heart ache. He wanted nothing more than to wrap Wat in his arms and hide him away from this cruel world.

"I... I almost didn't come," Wat said, his voice barely above a whisper. His hands were clasped tightly in his lap, his knuckles white with tension.

Namo smiled softly, relief washing over him. "I'm glad you did. It's really good to see you.”

Wat nodded, his expression still guarded. Namo searched Wat’s face for any hint of the boy he once knew. The familiar lines were there, but the warmth, the openness he had remembered had vanished. His fingers twitched, longing to reach out and smooth away the tension etched in Wat’s face.

"You know," Namo continued, trying to keep his voice steady. "I went to the reunion hoping to see you, but you weren't there. I was disappointed." Disappointed was an understatement, heartbroken would have been more accurate. He had spent weeks building up the courage to attend in hopes of seeing Wat there. When he wasn’t, it felt like losing him all over again. At the mention of the reunion, Wat hunched over, his body language screaming discomfort. Every muscle tensed as if bracing for a blow. Namo’s stomach twisted, he was messing this up already. No wonder everyone hated him. He sounded like a stalker, coming off too strong.

He continued. "It was weird being back there—" He was babbling now, he knew it, but he couldn’t seem to stop, the words coming out before he could consider if he actually wanted to say them.

"Namo," Wat interrupted, his voice strained. "Can we not talk about that school?"

Namo nodded, mentally kicking himself. "Of course, I'm sorry. How about I tell you about my job instead? Oh, and my mother—she always asks about you, you know." He winced internally. Why had he mentioned his mother? He sounded like a child. As Namo chatted, Wat remained mostly silent, offering only occasional nods or hums of acknowledgment. However, as they talked Namo noticed subtle changes in Wat’s demeanor. His shoulders slowly relaxed, the furrow between his brows softening.

Suddenly, a drop of rain splashed on Namo's nose. He looked up at the darkening sky. "Do you wanna go inside and get coffee? Avoid the rain?" As he said that the sky opened. It was a typical Thai rainstorm, the rain growing incredibly intense as the seconds passed.

Wat tilted his face upward, letting the rain kiss his skin. He closed his eyes, and for a moment, the tension seemed to melt away from his body. A soft sigh escaped his lips, barely audible over the pattern of raindrops. Namo's breath caught; in that moment of surrender, Wat looked just like the poetic, passionate boy he'd known in high school. A rush of memories flooded Namo: late night study sessions, walks on the quad, the brush of Wat’s hand against his own that always seemed to linger a moment too long. This was the Wat he recognized.

"Okay," Wat agreed softly, opening his eyes.

They rushed into a nearby café, the sudden downpour soaking them. As they entered, Wat shook out his hair, droplets flying, and for the first time that day, he smiled. It was a small, fleeting thing, but it transformed his face, bringing another glimpse of the old Wat to the surface. Namo felt his heart skip a beat. Wat's smile had always been beautiful, but now, with his hair tousled and damp, cheeks flushed from the cold rain, it was breathtaking. Namo’s gaze lingered on Wat, tracing the path of a raindrop down his cheek, mesmerized by the play of light on Wat's wet skin, the way his shirt clung to his lean frame. He quickly looked away, heat rising to his cheek. He shouldn’t be thinking like this.

The rich smell of freshly ground coffee beans enveloped them as they settled into their seats. Namo inhaled deeply, hoping the scent would calm his nerves. The cafe buzzed with the low hum of conversation and clink of spoons against ceramic. Wat grabbed a menu, his eyes darting across the laminated surface. His fingers drumming an erratic beat on the table’s edge.

"So," Namo began, desperate to keep the conversation going, "what do you do for a living now?"

"Architectural engineering," Wat replied robotically.

Namo blinked, thrown by the brevity of the response. He pressed on. "Oh, that's interesting! Do you... do you still make films?"

Wat looked up, surprise flickering in his eyes. A small smile tugged at his lips. "You remembered that?" He seemed genuinely surprised, or was that disdain?

"I remember all of it," Namo said softly, with winged words. His heart hammered in his chest. Wat's smile faded immediately. Namo wondered if he'd said something wrong, if it was weird that he'd held onto those memories so tightly. Of course it was. He was a freak, he knew it. There was a reason he didnt have any friends or real connections at all.

A waiter approached, notepad in hand. “What can I get you?”

Wat’s posture stiffened. “Double espresso, please,”

Namo fumbled with the menu. “Uh, I’ll have a latte, please. Thanks,”

As the waiter walked away silence settled between them. Namo’s mind raced desperately, searching for another topic. The soft patter of rain outside filling the void. "So,” Wat said, his eyes fixed on his hands. “is there…someone special in your life?” The careful neutrality in his tone belied the intensity of his gaze when he finally looked up.

Namo felt his cheeks heat up, self-consciousness washing over him. "No, I'm not. Never been good at relationships, I guess. You?" Namo scratched aimlessly at his neck which wasnt itchy. He must have looked like a drug addict or something. He purposefully put his hand in his lap.

Wat let out a dry, humorless laugh. "No," He said, his tone bitter and dismissive “Romantic entanglements have proven… problematic for me.”

They lapsed into silence again, but this time it was more comfortable. Namo found himself studying Wat's face, noting the new lines around his eyes, the sharper angle of his jaw. Even with the years and hardships etched into his features, Wat was still beautiful, but the beauty was just different. He used to have this air about him that was carefree and creative, like staying up to watch the sunrise. Now he felt like an antique ceramic. After a moment, Wat spoke again, his voice barely audible over the rain pattering against the windows. "I'm sorry I didn't reach out after high school."

"It's okay," Namo reassured him, even as old hurt stirred in his chest. It wasn’t okay, not really. There had been so many days when he’d stared at his phone, willing it to ring.

Wat's eyes met his, filled with a deep, unnamable emotion. "It wasn't indifference, it was just a desire to shield you from my own..." He trailed off, searching for the right words. "...situation," He finished, the word clearly inadequate for what he meant. "My feelings have a habit of staining those around me."

Namo wanted to ask what that meant, but before he could the waiter arrived, their drinks in hand. Wat immediately grabbed his drink and gulped down most of it. He looked uncomfortable. Namo’s mind swirled with questions he was too afraid to ask.

"Did you see Akk and Kan at the reunion?" Wat asked suddenly, his voice forcefully casual.

Namo nodded. "Yeah, I did." He smiled, happy to finally be talking about something actually real.

"How are they?" Wat’s voice was carefully neutral, but Namo thought he could sense an undercurrent of tension.

Confusion furrowed Namo's brow. "They're okay, I guess. But... shouldn't you know that? I mean, you're still close, right?" He knew they all talked throughout undergraduate, excluding himself of course. And the fact that Ayan had his number. Though it was a secret.

Wat's expression clouded over. "I haven't talked to them since college." He said flatly.

"What? Why?" Namo asked, shocked. He always assumed that the three of them would always be friends. They were inseparable in school, albeit less so when Akk and Kan got boyfriends.

Wat shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his fingers once again drumming the table’s edge. "It was... my girlfriend at the time."

"What was wrong with her?" The words fell out of his mouth haphazardly. He definitely could have phrased it better. He was such an idiot. “Sorry,”

“No, it’s alright,” Wat smile, though still tinged with sadness, came more easily now. "A lot," He said bitterly, his tone brooking no further questions on the subject. Namo wanted to press further, to understand what could have possibly driven such a wedge between the three friends, but whatever had happened was clearly a raw wound. Wat changed the subject, his voice forcing lightness. "Do you live in Bangkok now, or are you just visiting?"

"I live here," Namo replied, still reeling from the revelations about Wat's estrangement from their old friends. What the hell could have broken their unbreakable friendship? This mustve been some girl.

As Wat spoke about his job, Namo hung onto every word, desperately trying to bridge the gap between them. He wanted to reach out, to touch Wat’s hand, to say something profound that would make everything okay again, but the words stuck in his throat, held back by years of silence and uncertainty. Every new detail he voiced was a treasure and a torment. A glimpse into the life Wat had lived without him, a life he desperately wished he could be apart of.

Wat glanced at his watch. "I should go," He said, standing up. "But... I'll call you again. If that's okay?"

Namo nodded eagerly, hope blooming in his chest. "Yes, of course. I'd like that." He’d love that.

As Wat walked away, Namo’s hand twitched, almost reaching out. He watched his retreating figure, all the words he couldn’t bring himself to say heavy in the air. Whatever had happened in the past decade, one thing was clear: the connection between them was still there, fragile but unbroken.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ Namo was determined not to let it slip away again, no matter what it took.

Chapter Text

Namo paced nervously in his living room, his heart racing as he awaited Wat’s arrival. The musty scent of his carpet filled his nostrils, muffling his footsteps, but unable to quiet the thundering of his pulse in his ears. To calm his frayed nerves, he began meticulously arranging the books on his shelf, his trembling fingers tracing the worn spines as he aligned them perfectly. He had obsessively cleaned every inch of his apartment, including the shards on the floor from his mirror. He wanted so bad for Wat to like it. After he had cleaned he decided it had looked a little too clean so he messed it up a bit to make is seem like he hadnt put in that much effort to clean. He had even lit a candle, making the room smell of salt and ocean. He had also dressed up a little, to make him seem more put together, in a linen button down and jeans. The sound of a gentle knock at the door made him jump. He rushed over, taking a deep, crackling breath that seemed to rattle in his chest. He opened the door, his hand trembling on the cold metal doorknob. Namo’s heart skipped a beat as he took in Wat’s familiar face. A mix of emotions churned in his stomach. Wat’s presence alone seemed to charge the air around them with electricity, making it difficult to breathe. He was wearing a green tshirt and pants that were baggy around the knees. His hair was casually brushed to the side, framing his face nicely. He stood there with a hesitant, toothless smile on his face, his eyes wandering Namo’s intensely. Namo motioned him inside, awkwardly standing near the door, biting his cheek, his hands wet with nervous sweat. Wat wandered around the room, his slender fingers delicately touching various object scattered around Namo’s apartment.

Namo watched, mesmerized, as Wat’s fingers danced across his possessions. Each touch seemed to imbue the objects with a new significance. He imagined those fingers trailing across his skin, leaving tingles in their wake. Immediately, shame flooded through him. These thoughts, unbidden and unwelcome, bloomed unceasingly like Brugmansia in his mind. Each item Wat touched seemed to come alive under his fingers, and Namo wished he could be one of those objects, warmth spreading through his body at the thought. What was he thinking? These weren’t the kind of thoughts he should be having about his friend, about another man. He knew he should uproot them, cast them aside, for if an invasive species is not ripped out it will take over. Waves of guilt crashed over him, threatening to drown him in his own self-hatred. Namo swallowed hard, trying to force these feelings back down. He was already a disappointment in so many ways; he couldn’t bear to add this to the list.

Unable to withstand the silence any longer, Namo began to ramble, his words tumbling out in a nervous rush. He was being awkward, painfully aware of every gesture, every breath. Why couldn’t he be more at ease around Wat? It was as if his mind and body were conspiring against him, determined to make him look a fool. “Do you want to smoke with me?” He blurted out, desperate for something to break the tension, immediately regretting the words as they came out of his mouth.

Wat hesitated, his eyebrows lifting slightly, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his face. “I’ve never smoked before, but… sure, why not?” They both settled onto Namo’s uncomfortable couch, the springs creaking in protest. Their bodies were close enough that he could feel the warmth radiating from Wat, a tantalizing nearness that made his skin tingle. Namo’s mind hummed with awareness of Wat’s proximity. His face flushed as he leaned closer, seeking more contact, but as he did so he noticed Wat tensing, subtly shifting away. What was he doing? Wat obviously thought they were too close, too much touching. Namo was making him uncomfortable. He tried to lean away a bit, attempting to ignore the invisible pull towards Wat. He didnt want to ruin this friendship. He had just gotten Wat back in his life he wasnt about to lose him over something so stupid. He glanced at Wat, noticing the way the dim light caught in his eyes, making them sparkle. He looked very pretty. The thought sent a jolt of panic through his body. He shouldn’t be noticing these things, shouldn’t be thinking this way. The thoughts would remain locked away, both beautiful and terrifying in their potential. “So,” Namo started, his voice sounding strained even to his own ears. “How’s life?”

Wat turned to face him, a small chuckle escaping his mouth. “It’s been…” He paused, his fingers absently tracing patterns into the couch’s fabric. “Alright, I guess. What about you?”

Namo felt a lump forming in his throat. How could he possibly explain everything that had happened? The sleepless nights, the crushing weight of guilt, the constant fear. The words caught in his throat, threatening to choke him. “I’ve been…surviving.” His eyes dropped to Wat’s hand. “Some days are harder than others.” Understatement of the century, he thought bitterly.

Wat nodded. “Life has a way of fucking everything up, huh?”

Namo let out a short, humorless laugh. “Yeah, it does,” He hesitated, the words feeling heavy on his tongue. “I’m glad you’re here, though.” The admission made him feel exposed.

“I’m glad I’m here, too.” Wat’s smiled widened, and for a moment, Namo forgot about everything else in the world. For a brief, quixotic moment, he allowed himself to hope.

As they talked, Namo could feel the tension in his body start to ease. But as the effects of the high began to take hold, Namo noticed a change in Wat’s behavior. His eyes grew unfocused and his breathing became slightly labored. He shifted uncontrollably on the couch, his face flushing. “I feel like my entire body is on fire.” Wat swallowed.

Namo’s stomach dropped, a cold feeling spreading through his chest, extinguishing the warmth he had felt moments ago. Panic clawed at his insides. “In a good way?” He asked with false hope, already knowing the answer, already berating himself for suggesting this in the first place.

“No,” Wat replied, bluntly. He ran his hands through his hair, his movements jerky. “Can I use your shower?”

Namo nodded, feeling hollow as Wat disappeared into the bathroom. The sound of the door closing echoing in the sudden emptiness of the apartment. Namo slumped back onto the couch, his mind a whirlwind. He was surely cursed, doomed to destroy every good thing he ever had. A few seconds later, Wat swung opened the door, leaning on the doorframe. “What happened to your mirror?”

Namo’s eyes flickered to the spiderweb of cracks spreading across the bathroom mirror’s surface. The memory of his fist connecting with the glass flashed across his mind, along with the pain that had followed. “I punched it.” Namo said simply.

“Why?” Wat’s voice was soft, tinged with concern.

Namo giggled. “I don’t know,” He shrugged. Nothing was funny, he knew, but his mind had begun clouding over, the high distorting his perceptions.

Wat smiled weakly before he disappeared into the bathroom again. The hiss of the shower filled the silence and Namo found himself straining to hear any other sound, any indication that Wat was okay. He picked at a loose thread on the couch, his fingers trembling. He sank further into the couch, trying to disappear into it, his mind fuzzy from the high. He smiled. His usual infuriatingly chaotic thoughts had retreated, covered in a peaceful fog. For a moment he could pretend everything was okay, that he hadn’t just potentially ruined another potential relationship. That he wasnt the reason someone was dead.

The shower shut off, and a few minutes later Wat emerged from the bathroom, his hair damp and his eyes slightly unfocused. Namo’s heart plummeted at the sight of him. His face was red and puffy, tears soaking his cheeks. “Are you alright?” Namo asked hurriedly, sitting up straight, guilt washing over him. He felt sick.

Wat‘s composure crumbled. Tears flowed freely down his cheeks as he fell into the couch beside Namo. Hesitantly, Namo wrapped one arm around him, offering what comfort he could, even though he felt he didn’t deserve to be the one comforting him. The warmth of Wat’s shoulder against his was agonizing. “I don’t like it.” Wat’s voice was small, vulnerable.

Namo’s chest tightened. “I’m so sorry,” He whispered into Wat’s shoulder, breathing in the fresh scent of his shampoo. “I shouldn’t have suggested it.” As he held Wat, Namo’s thoughts spiraled again. All he ever did was ruin people’s lives. Jamnian’s life had been derailed—and extinguished—because of him, and now, he had fucked up his relationship with Wat, the one person who had always supported him. He desperately wished he could rewrite history, go back to all those moments in school when he had let people down, hurt them, and pushed them away. The only person he hadn’t hurt at school was Wat, the only person he had left, and he had just ruined their relationship too. But the Wat he knew was different then the one beside him. This Wat felt weaker, with sharper edges. He seemed hurt.

“You seem different,” He said softly, studying Wat’s face. He searched for a signs of hatred or disgust, bracing himself.

Wat wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, meeting Namo’s gaze. His eyes were still red-rimmed, but there was a clarity in them that hadn’t been there before. “You’re different too,” He replied, his voice hoarse.

“How?”

Wat thought for a moment, looking Namo up and down, his gaze piercing. “For one, you used to be very enthusiastic at all times, or at least you pretended to be.” He began, his words carefully chosen. “You used to have this…empty hole you would fill with other people’s feelings, but now…” He paused, his eyes softening. “Now you don’t have anything to fill it with.”

The words hit Namo like a punch to the face. He hadn’t expected such raw honesty when he asked. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. Wat had seen through him, past all his carefully constructed walls, to the core of his being. It was terrifying and exhilarating all at once. For a moment he was intimately seen, unadorned and naked, and the sensation was overwhelming. Wat pushed himself off the couch and out from Namo’s arm. “I’m sorry,” He tousled his hair halfheartedly and turned to face Namo. “I don’t know why I said that. I’m probably still high, I’m sorry.” He mumbled, his eyes not quite meeting Namo’s. “I should go,”

Namo watched, frozen, as Wat made his way to the door. He wanted to call out, and him to stay, but the words failed him. As the door closed behind him, Namo remained on the couch, stunned. He was surprised that Wat could read him so easily. He had always attempted to hide his true feelings, to present the face that others wanted to see. But Wat had seen right through him, both then and now. The realization was both terrifying and oddly comforting. Someone had seen him, really seen him, beyond the facade he had so carefully constructed. And yet, that person had just walked out the door.

Namo leaned back, closing his eyes. The high was wearing off, leaving him with a dull ache in his temples and a hollowness in his chest. He wondered what other truths Wat might have seen, what other parts of himself had he unknowingly revealed.

Chapter Text

Namo’s heart raced as he approached Akk’s apartment. His palms were slick with sweat and nervous energy coursed through his veins like electric currents. The hallway seemed to stretch on endlessly before him, the muffled sound of laughter leading him to his destination. He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself, before raising a shaking hand to knock on the door.

The seconds stretched into an eternity as Namo waited, his mind conjuring up a thousand scenarios of what might be on the other side. When the door finally swung open, and Akk’s warm smile greeted him, the low chatter from inside spilling out into the hallway “Namo! I’m so glad you could make it.” Akk said, his eyes crinkling with genuine happiness.

The sincerity in Akk’s voice sent a wave of relief over him, momentarily quelling his nerves. “Happy Birthday, Akk,” Namo managed, his voice coming out steadier than he felt. He fumbled in his pocket producing a slightly crumpled card. “I, uh, got you this.” As he handed it over Namo wondered if it was enough, if he should have bought him a real gift.

“Thank you,” Akk replied, his smile widening as he accepted the card. “That’s really thoughtful,”

As Akk showed him inside the apartment, Namo’s eyes darted around, drinking in his surroundings. It was a small, simple space, but Namo couldn’t help but notice the small touches that made it feel like home—framed photos on the walls, a cozy throw draped over the back of the couch, a pile of worn shoes left at the door. Every corner exuded warmth and comfort, much like Akk himself. Namo felt a pang of envy; his own apartment felt sterile in comparison, devoid of any personal touches that made the space seem truly lived-in.

The gathering was intimate, with drinks and food scattered on various surfaces. Kan sat alone on a worn gray couch, his posture relaxed but his eyes alert, taking in every detail of the room. Across from him on a loveseat were Ayan and Akk, the latter settling in beside his husband. A few folding chairs were scattered around, creating a loose circle with the couches. Some faces Namo recognized as old classmates, but most of the people were strangers to him. The air was thick with the mingled scents of stale beer and anticipation, punctuated by the ebb and flow of casual conversations.

Namo made his way to the couch, sitting down beside Kan, leaving a noticeable gap between them. He attempted to steady his breathing, hoping his nervousness wouldn’t be apparent to the others. His fingers idly picked at a loose thread on his pants.

“Hey, you look nice.” Kan said, giving Namo an appreciative once-over.

Namo felt a blush creep up his neck. He had actually put a little effort into his outfit today, opting for a light blue button-down with the sleeves rolled up and black pants. “Thanks,” He replied, genuinely grateful for the compliment, but also feeling a little self-conscious.

He cleared his throat, the sound echoing in his ears, before asking, “Is your girlfriend coming? Fah?” The question felt clumsy on his tongue, a desperate attempt at small talk. Namo hated this, the forced socializing, the dance of pleasantries. He longed for genuine connection, for friends who understood him without the need for such artifice. Yet here he was, grasping at straws, so desperate for friendship that he’d endure this just to feel a part of something.

Kan’s expression shifted slightly, a mix of nonchalance and something Namo couldn’t quite place. “No, we aren’t really dating. It’s more of a casual thing.” Kan explained, his shoulders rising in a shrug that seemed too deliberate to be casual. “Where’s your wife?”

Namo’s heart leaped into his throat, a tidal wave of panic drowning him. His lips parted, ready to correct the misunderstanding, but before he could form the words, Ayan materialized beside them, effectively interrupting the conversation.

Ayan’s arrival brought a shift in topic, steering it towards a discussion about Thua. Namo found himself struggling to keep up with the conversation, the chatter around him beginning to blur, and the noise amplifying. He nodded at what seemed like appropriate times, but his mind was elsewhere.

Feeling overwhelmed, as if the very air was pressing down on him, Namo mumbled an excuse, that was barely noticed, and retreated to the sanctuary of the kitchen. The relative quiet of the room provided a much needed respite. He leaned against the counter, his eyes fluttering closed as he attempted to center himself.

The kitchen was a nice contrast to the lived-in feel of the living room. The countertops were a dark gray marble, gleaming under the soft overhead lighting. White cabinets with gold accents lined the way.

With a grimace, he pressed his hand harshly into his opposite wrist, disappointment flooding him as the scabbed-over wound failed to provide the grounding pain he craved.

With slightly trembling hands, he pulled out his phone and texted Wat: “I wish you were here.” As soon as he hit send Namo cringed inwardly. God, he sounded like a lovesick schoolgirl, he thought.

As Namo watched the three dots dance their endless waltz, indicating Wat was typing a response, Ayan entered the kitchen. He was holding a bunch of empty beer bottles and shot glasses in his arms, the glass clinking softly as he moved. “You alright?” He asked, genuine concern painting his voice.

Namo nodded, plastering on a smile. “Yeah, I was just checking in with Wat.” He explained, not wanting to draw any attention to his momentary distress. He silently prayed that Ayan wouldn’t press further, wouldn’t see through the thin veneer of normalcy he was struggling to maintain.

Ayan’s face lit up with a warm smile as he deposited the bottles and glasses onto the counter, throwing out the bottles and leaving the others. “I’m glad you guys reconnected.” He said.

Namo considered how they could have stayed in contact over the years. The thought sent a pang of regret through him. He couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like now if anyone had put in even a tiny bit of effort to keep him around. A tinge of bitterness permeated his thoughts, but before he could dwell on it further, a chorus of excited greetings from the other room caught his attention.

Curious, Namo gravitated back to the living room, Ayan following close behind. The air had shifted, now laden with the smell of recently smoked cigarettes and coffee. As they entered Namo’s gaze fell on Thua, perched on the far left of the couch, already deep in conversation with Kan and Akk. The sight of Thua, so effortlessly integrated into the group, sent a fresh wave of unease through Namo.

Namo and Ayan rejoined the makeshift circle in the living room. The couch cushions dipped as Namo sat down, sandwiched between Kan and Thua. Oh, god, he thought, his body tensing involuntarily. The proximity to Thua made Namo’s skin prickle with discomfort, as if his very being rejected the other man. He could feel the heat radiating from Thua’s body, smell the faint scent of his cologne, and it took all of Namo’s strength not to physically recoil.

“Do you guys remember that time we caught Pratcha and Sombat sneaking comics in?” Kan said, his voice was warm and tinged with nostalgic. “Instead of reporting them I told them they owed me. Ended up making them do my homework for a while.” He chuckled. “We all laughed about it later, of course.”

Kan was probably the only person who went to that school that had any genuinely good experiences, and even he hadn’t escaped unscathed by bullying. Namo couldn’t even count the amount of times he had seen Kan being ridiculed for his sexuality. The memories brought a sour taste to his mouth. It was utterly ridiculous, he thought, how cruel kids could be. Even the school itself hadn’t been kind to Kan and the other prefects.

This realization settled heavy in Namo’s chest, a weight of shared traumas that seemed to connect them all, whether they acknowledged it or not. His eyes wandered to the others in the room.

Ayan, now entwined in Akk’s embrace, regarded Kan with an expression that bordered on irritation before turning his attention to his husband. Akk’s hand was firmly gripping Ayan’s knee, his eyes slightly glazed over staring in Kan’s direction. Ayan leaned backwards and whispered something in Akk’s ear, eliciting matching smiles and a shared meaningful glance. Namo smiled. They’re cute, he thought.

“Oh, and remember that time Wat borrowed Teacher Suwat’s old projector for movie night?” At the mention of Wat, warmth spread through Namo’s body. He really wished Wat could’ve come tonight.

As Kan continued Namo found himself wondering how their memories of Suppalo could have been so different. Where Kan remembered pranks and adventures, Namo’s memories were shadowed by isolation and fear. “…I guess that’s about when Ayan transferred.” Kan concluded, gesturing towards Aye with his drink.

“Best day of my life,” Akk’s interjected, his voice softening to a tender timbre, his eyes lighting up as he spoke. Though his tone was lighthearted, his expression betrayed the depth of his sentiment. Namo couldn’t help but find it endearing. Despite the complex emotions swirling within him, he felt genuinely happiness for them. Their relationship seemed to have blossomed into something beautiful, standing strong against the test of time.

However, the moment of warmth proved fleeting. Thua’s rough voice cut through the air. “Same day you crashed that car into the Jams.” The words hung in the air, heavy and uncomfortable, like a sudden chill in a warm room.

Namo’s body tensed involuntarily, his muscles coiling. Memories of high school, and Jamnian—memories he desperately wanted to forget—flooded his mind. The fact that he was now face to face with Thua for the second time in a week felt like a cruel joke played by the universe. Why anyone invited that man was beyond Namo. He knew that Thua would have eventually said something to ruin the whole day. It was as if he couldn’t help himself, always pushing, always reminding every one of the worst memories from their past.

“I need a drink.” Namo muttered under his breath, the words escaping his moth before he could stop them. He felt trapped.

Across the room, Ayan snickered at Namo’s comment, but Akk’s eyes met Namo’s with a silent warning in his gaze, one that he then doled out to Ayan. The unspoken message was clear—a plea to keep the peace, to prevent old wounds from reopening.

“I’ll get that for you,” Ayan said, rising to his feet and guiding Namo towards the kitchen. Once inside, Ayan turned to Namo. “What do you want?” His voice low enough not to carry to the living room.

Namo ran a hand through his hair. “Something strong,” He replied, his voice rough and hoarse.

Ayan’s lips quirked into a small smile. “I have just the thing,” He said.

Namo watched intently as Ayan began mixing drinks, his movements precise and practiced. He opened a cabinet and grabbed a bottle of rum, then retrieved a Coke from the fridge. Namo couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow as Ayan poured what seemed like an obscene amount of rum into his glass.

Namo shuffled nervously, the question that had been burning in his mind finally making its way to his lips. “Who invited Thua?” He asked, his voice quiet.

Ayan’s response was matter-of-fact, devoid of the tension that always seemed to hum through Namo’s body. “Akk did,” He answered, handing Namo his drink. The glass was cool against Namo’s palm. “He’s too nice these days, trying to make up for everything.” Ayan shrugged, a mix of fondness and exasperation in his voice. “But I think that Thua has some shit to make up for too.”

The words sparked a flicker of introspection in Namo. Maybe he should take a page out of Akk’s book. His mind wandered to the Jams, regret stabbing through him. He should have apologized, should have genuinely expressed remorse for his actions in high school, for causing… Namo shook his head, unable to complete his thought. He couldn’t apologize to Jamnian now. It was too late, wasn’t it? The thought left a bitter taste in his mouth, stronger than the alcohol in his drink.

“But, anyway, how are you and Wat getting along?” Ayan asked.

Namo took a long sip of his drink, wincing slightly at the strength of it. “Alright, I guess.” He said, his voice uncertain. “But I think I keep messing it up.”

Ayan’s brow furrowed. “I’m sure that’s not true.”

Namo sighed, staring into his glass as if it held some sort of answer all. “Wat seems upset with me sometimes.” He confessed.

“Maybe he’s just upset and not at you.” Ayan offered, his words careful and measured.

“Maybe,” Namo echoed, not entirely convinced. He took another sip of his drink, feeling the alcohol start to his insides. A thought occurred to him, and before he could think better of it, he blurted it out. “Why do you keep it a secret that you and Wat are friends? And why Akk, Kan, and Wat have a falling out?”

Ayan’s eyes widened slightly at the sudden barrage of questions. He opened his mouth to respond, then closed it again, seeming to choose his words carefully. “We should probably head back,” He whispered instead, avoiding the question entirely.

Namo’s mind raced, wondering what could be such a big secret. The alcohol was starting to make everything blurry around the edges, but it also emboldened him. He wanted answers.

Namo took a deep breath and followed Ayan back into the living room. He plopped down on the couch, once again finding himself between Kan and Thua. The proximity to Thua made his skin crawl, but the rum was dulling his discomfort.

Namo sank into the couch, feeling the soft fabric against his skin as he tried to make himself comfortable—or maybe invisible. Akk and Thua were engrossed in conversation. Namo caught ending thoughts about an annoying boss. “Wait, where do you work?”

Akk’s response came with a casual gesture between himself and Thua. “We work at Satriwitthaya, the school on Dinso road.” He said, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

Namo felt himself deflate, sinking further into the couch, hoping it would swallow him whole and spare him from reality. His teeth clenched involuntarily, jaw tightening as he processed this new information.

Even Thua, of all people, had managed to grasp onto Akk after graduation. The thought festered in Namo’s mind like an open wound. Namo stewed silently. His mind raced, trying to make sense of all of it. This must be part of Akk’s plans to make amends.

In no world would it make sense that Akk and Thua would see each other every day, maybe even eat lunch together. It was mind boggling that Akk had befriended Thua over Namo or even Wat. The unfairness of it all threatened to overwhelm him.

But as he tried to rationalize it an even painful realization dawned on him. Back then, in school, Namo had been a throwaway friend, easily discarded, while Thua had been a welcome addition to their circle. Namo was sure Wat was the only reason any of them even gave Namo another thought.

Namo swallowed dryly. A part of him wanted to scream, to assert that he deserved to be a part of their friend group more than Thua ever did. After all it was Thua who had cast a shadow over Akk and Aye’s school days. It was Thua who had compromised their safety and tormented the Jams. It’s utter bullshit, he thought.

Unable to bear his thoughts sober any longer, Namo retreated yet again to the kitchen. This time his movements were sloppy, driven by a desperate need to escape. He retrieved another drink. As he returned to the living room, he listened silently as the others droned on about work, their words blurring together in a haze of office politics and day-to-day frustrations, as meaningless to him as buzzing insects.

Time seemed to stretch and contract, minutes feeling like hours as Namo sat there, trapped in his own swirling thoughts. He barely registered Kan handing him another drink before bidding his goodbyes and leaving.

Namo looked down at the drink in his hand, realizing belatedly that this was his third…or was it his fourth? The room had begun to spin slightly, the edges of his vision blurring. The conversation around him had become a dull roar, indistinct and overwhelming. He knew he should probably leave, but the thought of going back to his empty apartment filled him with dread.

Namo forced out his goodbyes, the words thick and clumsy on his tongue. He stumbled out the door and down the stairs to the parking lot, each step a precarious balancing act.

He awkwardly slid into his car, realizing as he fumbled with his keys that he was far too intoxicated to drive. Cursing under his breath, Namo reached for his wallet, hoping to find enough cash for a taxi. But as he opened it he found only his ID and credit card staring back at him. “Fuck,”

Namo’s hand moved almost of its own accord, pulling out his phone. Without thinking, guided by some deeper instinct, he was calling Wat.

“Hello?” Wat’s voice came through, uneven and confused, thick with sleep. Namo belatedly realized it was the middle of the night, and he had probably woken up Wat.

Despite the circumstance, or maybe because of them, Namo giggled. “Your voice sounds nice.” He said, blushing. Even as the words fell out of his mouth, he tried to convince himself it was the alcohol talking.

“Namo, it’s 2am, what do you want?” Wat’s voice held no anger, just confusion.

Namo leaned his head against the steering wheel. “Yeah, sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

“You already have,” Wat replied, but his tone lacked any real irritation. Instead, concern was started to color his words. “What’s wrong?”

Namo took a deep breath, the cool surface of the steering wheel grounding him slightly. “I’m drunk,” He admitted, the words coming out in a rush. “Can you take me home?” He shouldn’t be burdening Wat like this, holding be so needy, so pathetic.

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the line, and Namo held his breath, afraid he’d asked too much. But Wat’s voice came through soft and reassuring. “Of course,”

Chapter Text

He stared up at the night sky and admired the stars for a moment. He wished the city lights didnt drown them out. Wat gently helped Namo into his car, his movements careful and deliberate, contradicting Namo’s swaying and falling. The night air was cold on Namo’s skin as Wat closed the passenger door and made his way to the driver’s side. Namo shivered. His vision swam as he settled into his seat. He blinked hard, trying to focus on Wat in the seat next to him. The world around him was a blur of streetlights and shadows, but Wat remained clear and steadied him. Wat was still wearing his sleep shirt, and jeans that were loosely hanging around his hips in need of a belt. Namo’s eyes lingered at Wat’s hips sliding up to his chest. There was something so endearing about seeing Wat so casual, so undone. It stirred a warmth in Namo’s chest that he immediately tried to suppress. It mustve been the alcohol.

The engine whirred start and Wat began driving towards Namo's apartment. Namo held his hands out in front of the air con. The air hadnt entirely cooled and was still warm when it hit his hand. Wat sat in silence, staring out the windshield. Namo glanced at him, breaking his focus from the A/C.

“You know,” Namo began, his voice cracking as he spoke. “I heard Akk and Thua are working together now. And apparently, Akk and Kan have kept in touch since we graduated.” Namo took a second to glance over at Wat a second time, searching for any reaction. He wasnt sure what reaction he was expecting, but Wat just remained silent, his eyes fixed on the road ahead of him. Namo took this as an invitation to continue.

“It just…it makes me feel terrible, you know?” Namo’s voice cracked. “They all still talk to each other, but where am I in all of this? It’s like I’m not even a blimp on their radar anymore.” He hated that he still cared. He had always felt left out by the group. He was never important to them. The thought pierced through Namo’s alcohol-addled mind, sharp and painful.

Namo’s hands gesticulated wildly as he spoke, nearly hitting the dashboard a few times. “And Thua…god, Thua is the worst. I can’t stand him. But everyone seems to like him more than me. How is that fair? What does he have that I don’t?” Namo’s hands clenched into fists in his lap, his nails digging into his palms, the pain a welcome distraction from the emotions writhing within him. “It’s like they all left me behind.” He continued. “Like I was so easy to forget. One day we’re all friends and then…poof! They’re gone. Do you know how that feels, Wat? To wake up one day and realize you’re alone?” He stalled for a second, realizing Wat probably knew exactly what that felt like.

"I just...," Tears began to well up in his eyes, and he turned to look out the window, the city lights blurring into colors. “Am I really that forgettable?”

The weight of his loneliness pressed down on him, threatening to suffocate him. Namo’s thoughts became even more jumbled as he continued, the alcohol making it hard to form coherent sentences. “It’s just…it hurts. Seeing them all happy without me. Knowing they don’t even think about me anymore. I just can’t help but wonder…is there something wrong with me? Why wasn’t I good enough to keep around?” Namo dropped his hands in his lap defeated. He felt exhausted. All these feelings had been weighing on him for years, but finally releasing them just made them seem even heavier. There must be something fundamentally wrong with him. A real and tangible reason why he was so unlikable. A reason why he was such a failure.

Wat was still silent, but Namo could see his knuckles whitening as his grip tightened around the steering wheel.

As they pulled up to Namo’s apartment Wat finally broke his silence. He put the car in park, slowly removing his key from the engine, and turned to face Namo. “For the record,” Wat said. “I still like you." He was staring at Namo so intensely it made it hard for him to focus on his words. Namo just stared into Wat's warm eyes. His cheeks flushed. He closed his eyes and counted to three in his head, trying to focus on what Wat was saying to him.

“Shut up,” He mumbled.

Wat’s warm laughter filled the car. It wrapped around Namo like a comforting blanket, easing some of the tension in his shoulders. Despite himself, Namo felt a small smile tugging at his lips. “Look,” Wat said, his tone turning more serious. “everyone got overwhelmed with life. I don’t think that they meant to abandon you. What matters is that they want to be friends now.”

Namo frowned, shaking his head, which made the world spin a little. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Then what did you mean?” Wat asked, his brows furrowed in confusion.

Namo’s frown deepened. He didnt know how to explain himself. “I know they don’t actually want to talk to me. It’s just because you were friends with me."

Wat fell silent a moment, his brown eyes searching Namo’s face. When he spoke again, his words were careful and measured. “That’s certainly not why they’re friends with you now." He swallowed. "If anything, if they knew you and I were friends, they probably wouldn’t talk to you as much.”

Namo felt a pang in his chest at those words, but Wat wasn’t finished.

“I want to talk to you, Namo.” He continued, his voice soft but firm. “And not just because we used to be friends in high school." Wat paused. "I really enjoy spending time with you. It's honestly," He sorta chuckled before he continued. "It's honestly made my life a lot better." He smiled to himself, but then it faded from his face when he looked back up at Namo.

Namo’s heart skipped a beat. He had never thought he made much impact on other people. He always thought people forgot about him, that he just glided through life at the sidelines. He tried to process what Wat was saying, but his thoughts had began to blur. Namo tried to get out of the car. His limbs, however, were uncooperative, and Wat had to come around and help him up. As Wat arrived on the other side of the car, Namo nearly fell out, saved only by Wat’s quick reflexes. Wat’s arms encircled him, pulling him up to meet his eyes. “Be careful, Namo." Wat muttered, gently. His scent enveloped Namo, a mixture of jasmine cologne and something uniquely Wat. Namo’s head was spinning.

Wat put Namo's arm around his shoulder, placing his own around Namo's waist and guided him to his door. Namo leaned into Wat subconsciously, acutely aware of every point of contact between them. "Do you have your keys?" Wat asked. Namo nodded and tried to grab them out of his front left pocket, but his hand kept catching on his jeans. "Let me help you." Wat shifted his weight towards Namo. He stopped. "If that's okay?" Namo absently nodded again. Wat looked at him a moment, almost making sure he heard correctly, and then delicately put his hand in Namo's pocket. Namo thought it felt nice. Why did it feel nice? Wat retrieved the keys. He took a step forward and removed Namo from his side, resting him against the wall. He quickly unlocked and opened the door, resuming their position. As they made their way into Namo’s apartment, Namo leaned heavily on Wat, struggling to put one foot in front of the other.

Wat led Namo to his bedroom in the dark, setting him down gently on the bed. Namo immediately laid all the way down, sinking into his sheets. "Wait, I'm gonna take your shoes off." Wat said kneeling in front of him. Namo tried to sit up so he could see Wat, resting on his elbows. Wat unlaced his shoes and pulled them off. "Socks?"

Namo smiled and nodded. It felt nice to be taken care of. He wanted to feel like this all the time. He wanted to feel like he mattered to someone. Especially if that someone was Wat. Wat took off his socks as well and folded them into themselves. "You can toss them." Namo muttered, vaguely gesturing towards his laundry basket.

Wat got up and placed them inside the basket. "I'll be right back," Namo laid back down and smiled. He felt nice. His head felt warm and fuzzy, all his thoughts had faded away leaving him in a comfortable silence he seldom experienced. "Here," Wat had returned with a glass of water and a piece of roti, which he set on the side table. He went around Namo's bed and helped turn him, so his head was on his pillows. As Wat pulled the covers over him, Namo reached out, his fingers brushing Wat’s wrist. “Stay,” Namo mumbled, his eyes already closing, the alcohol and emotional exhaustion finally catching up to him.

Wat hesitated for a moment before gently extracting his wrist from Namo’s grip. “Get some sleep, Namo.”

Chapter Text

Namo woke up to an extreme pounding in his head and nausea in his stomach, which was quickly rising in his throat. He sat up with a groan and rubbed his face with his hands. The knots in his stomach intensified and he quickly stumbled to his bathroom to bend over his toilet. He emptied his stomach. He crumpled onto the floor, clutching his abdomen. He tried to replay the events of last night, but couldnt recall much besides quick flashes of conversations and the the smell of alcohol. He swallowed. His throat felt like it hadnt touched water in weeks. He lifted himself up into a sitting position, tilting his head so the back hit the cold tile wall. He hadnt gotten this drunk since college and his body wasnt used to it anymore.

He turned his head to stare at his broken mirror. He should probably fix it. Or give up and just buy a new one. He pushed himself off the wall to pick up the scattered shards. He collected a small pile of them and brought them over to the trashcan in his kitchen. He stalled. He stared at the shards silently, until he began gently pressing the sharp end of one into his palm. He needed that pain, he needed the comfort of knowing he could inflict on himself, that he was the one that controlled the harm done to him.

There was a knock at the door. He dropped the shards in the trashcan and wiped his hand with the other, attempting to hide the damage. He hurriedly messed with his hair while making his way to the door. He pulled it open. Wat stood in his doorway. Namo’s heart fluttered a little bit at the sight of him. Namo sighed, regretting not looking in the mirror, rather lack thereof. He assumed he looked as bad as he felt, but he was happy to see Wat regardless.

“You look like shit.” Wat said. He, unlike Namo, looked well put together in slacks and a button up. His hair was brushed to one side, which made him look rather business like.

“I feel like shit.” Namo smiled weakly, pressing himself against his door to lend Wat more room, and gestured him inside.

Wat stopped at Namo’s kitchen and leaned against the counter. Namo grabbed an empty glass from his cabinet beside Wat and filled it with water. “Sorry for showing up randomly. I just-” Wat tilted his head to get a better look at Namo’s hand. “I wanted to make sure you were alright, after last night.” Namo shrugged, attempting to seem nonchalant. He internally cringed thinking about himself bearing his soul to Wat. Especially since he didnt remember what he said. Wat turned his head away, but his eyes kept flicking between Namo’s face and his injured hand. Namo tucked it behind his back. He didnt particularly care weather Wat saw it or not, but he was not in the mood to talk about it. “You seemed pretty upset.”

Namo sighed. God, that is so embarrassing. “Can you please forget everything I said?” Wat hummed in response, but didnt say he would forget. Namo set down his drink, his stomach reacting poorly. “I feel sick.” Namo rushed over to the bathroom again and vomited. He slowly stood. “Fuck,”

When he left the bathroom, Wat was sitting on his couch, fiddling with one of the coasters that was sitting out on the coffee table. Namo plopped onto the couch next to Wat. “Are you alright? I brought your water over.” Namo muttered a thanks and nodded. He grabbed the glass and it gulped down. “Did you at least have fun?” Wat asked. “At the party?”

“Thua was there.” Namo felt like that summed up his feelings pretty well. Wat let out a small laugh. “I wish you wouldve been there.”

Wat continued fiddling with the coaster. “Yeah, I dont think Akk wants me around.” He let out, a sad look gleaming in his eyes.

Namo didnt know if now was the time to broach the subject, but his curiosity got the best of him. “Why?” He said softly. Wat just sat there, staring blankly at the coaster in front of him. Namo shouldnt have asked so he decided to leave it. He leaned back, melting into the cushions. “I need a smoke.”

Wat sort of chuckled. “As long as I dont have to partake.”

“Dont worry. I’ll never make you do anything you dont want to.” Namo said it as a joke, but one look at Wat and he could tell he had hit a nerve.

“I need to leave. I have work.” Wat’s words were chopped. He stood hurriedly, but he hadnt let go of the coaster. He realized and awkwardly set it back down.

There was a knock at the door. Namo hadnt had this many visitors in…ever really. The only people to step foot in this apartment besides Wat were his parents and the rare one night stand. Namo stood up and made his way to the door. Wat followed him over there keeping a noticeable gap between them.

Namo opened the door to an anxious Akk. “Oh,” Akk wrang his hands. “hello.”

Akk was probably the second to last person Namo was expecting. Second only to the fucking pope. He wasnt even sure how he knew where he lived. “Hi?”

Akk visibly swallows. “I was wondering if we could maybe talk?” Namo nods and lets him inside. Akk stalled at the sight of Wat, his body language drastically changing from nervous to irritated.

Wat immediately tensed, and started picking at his lip. “Bye, Namo.” He said, looking anywhere but either of their faces. Namo thought he could see Wat’s eyes welling up. He slipped out of the door.

“Are the two of you friends?” Akk asked, pointing in the direction of the door.

Akk’s tone dripped with unsung judgement that Namo found incredibly irritating. What right did Akk have to judge Namo, someone he knew barely anything about. “Kind of.”

Akk sighed, dropping his hands. “You know, Wat isnt who he used to be back in school. He’s changed. You shouldnt hang out with him.” Namo tried his best not to roll his eyes. Namo was a grown man and could make his own decisions.

“I’m just trying to help you out. Can I sit?” Akk asked. Namo clenched his jaw and considered giving Akk a piece of his mind, but didnt want to risk the friendships he had rekindled. Namo nods and regains his seat on the couch, with Akk replacing Wat.

“I just wanted to say that I’m sorry for what happened at Suppalo and how I treated you. I’m sorry that you thought you had to follow what I was doing. I know it got you in a lot of trouble. I dont want you to feel responsible for all the crap you did to Ayan and the Jams. It was my fault and I’m really sorry. Yeah,” Akk finally finished and took a deep breath. His gaze slowly slid up to Namo, searching for anything at all.

Namo sat in silence for a moment. While Akk was a major motivation for him at the time, he acted of his own free will. He forever impacted, and probably traumatized, those people because of decisions he made. Especially Jamnian. He could never take those decisions back. “It’s okay, Akk. There’s no hard feelings.” After all it wasnt really Akk’s fault. Everything that actually hurt people was done by Namo and Thua. Namo had forgiven Akk a long time ago and internalized that guilt.

Akk smiled, clearly relieved. “I’m really glad we reconnected.” His body relaxed, all his muscles untensing. “I missed you.”

Namo tried not to frown. Namo honestly didnt believe him. He knew that Akk never wanted to be friends with him. The only reason Namo got included in high school is because Namo had the habit of following people around so they couldnt get rid of him. But the friendship was never genuine. A thought formed in the back of his head. But what if they could be now?

Namo’s phone vibrated in his pocket. He pulled it out of his pocket to see a text from Wat. “I’ll be back later to get your car. just lmk when.” He shut his phone off and shoved it in his pocket. He wanted to see Wat, but at the same time he felt like he just ruined Wat’s mood. He brought everyone down. There was something wrong with him.

Namo swallowed dryly, bringing his attention back to Akk. “Did you know Jamnian was dead?” He asked abruptly. The guilt had been eating him alive since the reunion. He had killed a man, or at least caused his death. He should feel guilty. This punishment was far lighter than what he really deserved.

Akk stuttered, shocked. “Uhhh,” He flexed his hand on the table, the tenseness of his muscles returning. “Yeah, he uh- died a few years back.” He relaxed his muscles in a way that felt very intentional. “We all went to the funeral.”

We all not including Namo of course. “I found out at the reunion.” Namo looked down, reliving that moment. The pain rose in his throat.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Were you two close?” Akk asked. Namo could see the disbelief sewn between his eyebrows. Akk simply couldnt believe it. Namo didnt know which was more confusing, that he had had friends or that they just mightve been Jamnian.

“No.” The two of them sat in an uncomfortable silence for a while. Namo studied the lines of Akk’s face as he sat back in his chair. He wondered why him and Wat fell out. What could break that unbreakable bond? What terrible thing could Wat have possibly done to ruin their relationship.

Akk looked down at his watch. “I should go. It was nice to see you.”

Namo smiled awkwardly. “Yeah,” He looked down to stare at his hands in his lap. “I think Wat’s changed since you last saw him. You might not know him that well anymore.”

Akk tilted his head at Namo, a visible anger and hurt burning in his eyes. No it wasnt anger, was something more like disgust?

“Maybe,”

Chapter Text

Namo wrang his hands nervously in front of apartment number 555. He had been attempting to calm himself down for a few minutes now, but nothing was working. He took another deep breath. Wat had taken him back to the bar to retrieve his car yesterday in complete silence. The only words exchanged between the two were a thank you, followed by a small hum from Wat. Namo kept replaying their interaction over and over again in his head. He remembered the reaction Wat had when he mentioned smoking. Fuck. He never should have suggested it. And why the hell had he brought it up again when he knew it made Wat uncomfortable. He’s such a dumbasss.

He exhaled, snapping back to the apartment hallway. He dropped his hands to his sides and rubbed his palms over his pants. Ayan was going to join them tonight which just added to his anxiety. He loved Ayan and they got along well, but he knew Ayan and Wat were very good friends and he didnt want to feel like the awkward and ignored third of a trio. He had endured feeling left out for years during and after high school and he couldnt handle it again.

Also the last time he had seen Aye he had gotten shitfaced and made a fool of himself. He would not be surprised if everyone, including Thua, thought he was an annoying, pathetic loser. He clearly had no other friends and was clinging on tirelessly to his high school days. They used to make fun of people like him. People who had never grown out of that phase. Although Akk had come to see him afterwards, so maybe he hadnt had as bad of an impression as he thought. God knows he couldnt remember.

But he was lonely. They got that part right. And he would kick himself for years if he lost the opportunity to gain these relationships back. To be a part of something again and feel like he belonged. Even if it was fake. He knocked.

He could hear shuffling from behind the door of Wat’s apartment, before he heard the latch click and the door opened revealing Wat’s smiling face. He seemed like he was in the middle of a soft laughed that Namo only caught the end of. Namo loved the sounds of laughter, the tangible sound of human happiness. Wat’s was especially beautiful.

Namo thought Wat’s smile widened as his eyes stopped at Namo’s, which caused Namo to smile in return. He felt his cheeks heat up and attempted to hide his face by pressing it into his left shoulder as best he could. He could tell he wasnt hiding anything at all. He always felt a little awkward expressing his emotions. He was terrible at understanding his own feelings, showing them to others felt way too vulnerable for his liking. He tried to push the giddiness down. He wasn’t even sure why he was giddy. Where had the anxiety and self loathing disappeared to? He decided if it was gone it was best not to dwell on.

“Hey, I’m glad you made it.” His voice was its typical softness, but mixed with a rough strain. His hair was damp, a few drops of water hitting his tshirt. He smelled like he just got out of the shower. His movements seemed slower than usual as he opened the door wide enough to let Namo in.

Namo’s stomach bloomed with a wet warmth. Wat was draped on the doorframe with his right arm casually hanging off the side of it. His left hand was sitting on his hip, folding the bottom of his shirt, which left a small sliver of his stomach exposed. He looked hot.

Namo felt his entire body burning. He didn’t think men were hot. He was just admiring a handsome guy. Wat was handsome, he could admit that. He didn’t mean anything by it. He stared a hole into Wat’s shoe as he walked past him inside.

Wat had looked really comfortable. He was just thinking he looked effortless. He didn’t mean hot. He surely didn’t think of him like that. He never had. He was a man, a straight man. He had liked women his whole life. He liked dating them and having sex with them. There was no need to think anything of him simply noticing another guy was good looking.

He tried to shift his focus to the interior. He was standing in a small, bright kitchen. The white counters created a sort of U shape and Ayan was planted on a stool at the center of it, his back to the rest of the flat.

Before Namo could get very far, Wat held up his hand to Namo’s chest stopping him at the entrance. He looked down at him. They were too close. Namo could feel Wat’s breath as he spoke. “We were drinking but, you don’t have to okay? Don’t feel like you have to.” Wat felt so warm. Namo tried his best to think of literally anything other than how close they were. He could’ve kissed him if he took another step. Why was he thinking about kissing him?

Namo nodded. Wat took a step back, turned, and took the seat next to Aye that had an almost empty wine glass in front of it. Ayan said something in greeting, but Namo’s ears could no longer hear anything other than his own blood rushing. He tried to hum something, anything in response, but he never found out if any sounds were made.

He took a deep breath. What the fuck had gotten into him? It was just Aye and Wat. He had known them forever. He glanced behind the counter separating the kitchen from the rest of the apartment. Directly behind Aye was a small, gray couch facing a mounted tv. It was a very boring apartment. He was a bit surprised. He figured that Wat would have pretty unique decorations, but the walls were empty of any art or pictures.

Namo realized he had probably been standing there a bit too long. He chuckled awkwardly. “I actually might need a drink. Where are your glasses?” Wat pointed to the top cabinet beside the fridge. Namo retrieved one and stood facing the others, on the side of the counter nearest the door. He poured himself a glass.

He honestly felt like never drinking again after his last hangover, but he needed something to do with his hands. And more importantly a buffer to stop him from talking his mouth off.

Aye was in the middle of recounting the other night’s party. This was definitely going to be embarrassing for Namo. “Thua and Akk were talking about work mostly. Totally lame, you didn’t miss much. To be honest Namo was keeping me company most of the night.” Aye smiled at him. “Wait,” His face dropped for a second before gaining a small, mischievous smile. “Wait, Namo, after you left Thua told Akk that him and Kan were like…” He stopped and looked between Namo and Wat. “Like hooking up.”

“Gross,” I muttered, more to myself than anything, but they both smiled.

Wat frowned. He took a sip of his wine, finishing off his glass. Ayan nodded enthusiastically. “I’m kinda surprised. Him and Fah were serious.”

“Really? He told me they were just casual.” Namo butted in. He took a very large gulp of wine.

“When?”

“At your place.” He wasn’t sure if that was supposed to be a secret, but he didn’t care to expose it if it meant having something to talk to them about. He was excited he finally had something not weird to say. He took another sip that was definitely too big.

“Wait, is Fah the same girl that worked with that other girl?” Wat asked. Ayan stared at him in confusion. “With the weird mom?” Wat bit the nail on his right hand. “Pleng?”

“Oh!” Ayan nodded, pointing a finger at Wat. “Yes. I totally forgot about that.”

“So, he’s been with her for a while. That’s rare for him.” Wat refilled his glass and tried to top off Ayan’s, but he put his hand up in refusal.

“Well, I guess now he’s with Thua.” Ayan stretched his arms above his head. “So, Namo, how did you like the party? Hope it wasn’t too boring. Did you get home alright?”

Namo swallowed. For some reason he felt inclined to keep his method of returning home a secret. “Yeah, it was good. Sorry, I definitely drank too much. But yeah it was super fun. Thanks for inviting me.”

“Of course, and it’s okay, that’s why we had alcohol.” Ayan smiled at him. He grabbed his phone out of his pocket, glanced at it, then returned it. “Umm, I’m probably gonna head out.” Wat stood and he followed suit, walking towards the door. “Oh wait,” He stopped. “Uh, this is kinda weird but, Akk is house sitting at his parents and…he invited you guys to dinner there Saturday night.”

Namo loved that idea. It was like when they were in high school, taking trips to Akk’s house every chance they got. They always had so much fun. At least he did. Namo took it upon himself to finish his glass of wine, pour another and finish that one too. He muttered Ayan a last goodbye and poured himself the rest of the bottle, which was about a fourth of a glass.

“Really?” Wat stood stiff as a board, staring at Ayan in disbelief.

Aye’s smile was huge this time. “Yes, really.” He nodded.

“What changed?”

Ayan pursed his lips, a sly look on his face. He gestured towards Namo with his chin. “Akk talked to him. Changed his mind.”

Wat’s gaze didn’t move from Ayan. “I didn’t really say anything.” Namo offered. He was actually shocked that he could be the deciding factor on anything. Let alone break the no contact between Akk and Wat. The truth was though, he hadn’t said much. If the wound between the two of them was so deep it was surprising it took so little to heal.

“Did you,” Ayan stepped closer to Wat and lowered his voice so Namo couldn’t hear. Luckily Namo had a terrible habit of eavesdropping. “Did you tell anyone?”

Wat, however, had a soft enough voice that he didn’t hear the response if there was one.

“So you guys are down?” Ayan glanced between the two of them. They both gave the affirmative. “Okay, let me send you both the info. Namo what’s your number again?”

Namo made his way over to them. He was feeling a little dizzy, but not enough to influence his balance. Yet. He recited his number to Ayan.

Wat had began leaning on the counter, his hands crossed over his chest. He looked deep in thought. His eyes were plastered to Ayan’s shoes and he was biting the inside of his cheek. Namo thought it strange that he didn’t seem excited. He guessed it must be weird to be accepted all of a sudden. Namo tried to study his facial expression further. Wat’s hair had dried by now, leaving it perfectly tossed.

“You’re so pretty.” He smiled up at him, inching closing, so he could see his face better. What. Namo was sure that voice was his, no matter how hard he wished it wasn’t.

This seemed to break Wat out of his thoughts. He laughed. Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god. Namo was going to kill himself this instant. “Uh, thanks?”

Ayan slowly lifted his head from his phone. “I’ll leave you two to it,”

Wat shook his head slightly and walked with Ayan to the door. Namo could hear them talking at the door but was way too intoxicated to pay any attention. He was too busy thinking of all the ways he could disappear. Maybe the ground would save him the trouble and just open up and swallow him.

Wat was pretty. But there was no reason to tell him. He probably thought Namo was a complete freak now. He definitely already thought that.

Wat returned in complete silence. To Namo’s dismay, he maintained this silence while collecting the dishes. Well there goes their friendship. Maybe Namo should leave. He doesn’t want to.

Wat turned on the faucet and began to rinse out and wash each glass. He was too calm. It was freaking Namo out. He hated him. Namo was sure of it. There was no way your friend of barely two weeks hitting on you doesn’t make you hate him. But Namo wasn’t trying to hit on him. Maybe he knew that.

Namo drifted towards the sink, anchoring next to Wat, his side pressed into the corner of the sink. His head was buzzing.

Namo really didn’t want to lose Wat. Not again. Wat had this magical ability that Namo had been yearning to experience again for years. Wat had this ability to make anyone and everyone feel important.

The sound of the faucet running hummed in the background as Namo stared at Wat. The only other sound was Namo’s heartbeat.

“Wat,” He said it so quiet that he wasn’t sure if Wat heard him. A beat. Wat turned to look at him. His eyes were so warm and intoxicating that Namo couldn’t look away.

Wat slowly and calmly turned off the sink. He dried his hands on a towel and set it down gently.

He turned towards Namo and closed the space between them. He grabbed both of Namo’s hips and kissed him.

Namo froze completely before melting into Wat. His stomach flipped. All his senses became engulfed with Wat. His smell, his taste, his warmth. Namo’s hands gripped Wat’s biceps, trying to steady himself. His head swam.

Wat pulled away. He pressed his lips together, turned, and continued to wash the dishes.

Namo almost fell over. The loss of contact was so sudden it left him reeling. They just kissed. Maybe. He probably just hallucinated. He must be really drunk. Namo gripped at the side of the counter, trying not to just disintegrate on the spot.

He gulped. Okay. Wat probably just wanted Namo to shut the fuck up. He was talking too much and he just, kissed him. Yeah. Namo looked up at him. He was washing his hands now. His face was completely expressionless. Namo groaned internally.

Maybe this was a joke. Wat thought it would be funny to see what happened. “I should leave,” His face was burning, but the heat behind his eyes grew by the second. Or Wat was drunk. Maybe he thought Namo was someone else.

“Do you mind staying here tonight? I don’t want you to drive.” Wat said it so nonchalantly, like it was nothing. Namo attempted to pick up quite literally anything out of his tone or demeanor, but he garnered nothing.

He couldn’t drive. His entire body felt like collapsing and his brain felt like it was fried. He nodded. He would probably give into anything right now. Wat was so pretty.

Namo couldn’t stop staring at him. Maybe he just imagined it. There was no way in hell Wat would act like this if they had just kissed. He imagined it. That begged the question: why was he imagining kissing him? Namo thought he was going to explode.

“I’m gonna shower then.”

“I’ll help you,” Wat hummed.