Chapter Text
“I gotta go.” First suddenly says, bolting for the door. He leaves no room for Khaotung to say anything.
It was still raining heavily, but he just ran. Thankfully, Khaotung’s house was near his apartment. By the time he arrived, drenched from head to toe, he went straight to his laptop.
“Hanahaki disease”
“Hanahaki disease surgery”
“How painful is hanahaki?”
“Can hanahaki be reversed?”
The search bar filled and refilled under his frantic typing, and results popped out one after another. He scrolled through them for hours, eyes burning, until he ended up stumbling upon an anonymous Reddit post.
Is hanahaki really reversible?
I’m 26F, my partner is 24F. We were best friends since middle school, and we used to like each other a lot; anyone could tell, even though neither of us ended up confessing. At that time, I had really religious parents, so the thought of having a girlfriend really freaked me out. So, I told myself to wait. I wanted to wait till I could finally move out of my parents’ house and finally live my own life.
However, nearing the end of our high school years, she started to change. She wouldn’t laugh at my jokes anymore, nor would she even hang out with me. I was heartbroken, I thought that she had moved on and started liking someone else. It was then that I got to know from her brother that she had surgery for hanahaki disease.
I confronted her after that, and after talking things through, we decided to remain friends. After moving out of my parents’ house, I tried to pursue her. I did everything. I bought her flowers and took her out on dates. We even fought. She told me that what I was doing was not going to work, but I knew I had to try.
After a while, she started laughing around me again. She started smiling and crying around me. She ended up telling me she believes that she has feelings for me again, and we started dating.
But here is where I’m concerned. Did her feelings really come back, or is she doing this out of guilt? Please help me.
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First stared at his screen. His fingers were tapping against his wooden study table, his mind running with all kinds of possibilities.
He definitely does not have the answers to anonymous, but anonymous just gave him his.
There was hope.
That he could still have Khaotung, even if Khaotung may never like him back the same way.
He was up all night coming up with his masterplan.
The next morning, he woke up with determination. He ironed his clothes so neatly that not a single crease was in sight. He gelled up his hair, combing it so not a single strand fell out of place. He wore his most expensive perfume, even though it was only ฿500. He made sure he had a good breakfast, 2 granola bars. He even wore a tie today.
He rehearsed his lines under his breath on the way to campus. He stopped by a flower shop on his way and bought sunflowers, their bright yellow petals almost blinding in the morning light.
He met Est halfway, who looked him up and down like he had gone bunkers.
“Dude, is it Valentine’s today?” he jokes.
“Shut up,” First shot back, “You, out of all people, would know when it’s Valentine’s.”
Est halted mid-step, “Hey! That was uncalled for!”
“Shhhh,” First hissed, “Do you see him?”
Est glanced around, “Who?”
And then First spotted him. Same bench, same tree, same pen, but different book. First ran. Est followed blindly, muttering complaints under his breath.
Khaotung heard hurried footsteps getting louder and glanced up. He froze at the sight before him. First stood before him, holding out a bouquet of sunflowers, and his chest heaving. Behind him stood a visibly confused and flustered Est.
“Khaotung, may I court you?”
Everyone froze. Even the irrelevant students passing by slowed down to stare.
“Wait, why is Est here?”
First spared Est a glance, “Emotional support,” He looked back at Khaotung.
Khaotung blinked back at First, “But… yesterday-"
“I don’t care about yesterday,” First cut in quickly, “I don’t care about the fact that the chances of you ever returning my feelings are close to zero. I don’t care if you got your feelings for me surgically removed.”
Est snaps his head at that, “Wait, what-"
“I don’t care, Khaotung,” First pleads, “Just give me a chance to try. I want to build all of our memories again. I want to be able to love you freely. I wanna take you on dates where I laugh at my own lame jokes while you stare at me like I lost my mind. I want to know what it would feel like to have you in my arms again.”
Khaotung slowly took the flowers from First and stared down at them.
“Please, Khaotung,” His voice softens into a whisper, “I lost you once. I’m not letting that happen again. I can’t live with that.”
Khaotung glances up, and in a whisper almost inaudible, he said, “Sure.”
“Khaotung, please, ju-“ First’s head snapped up, “Wait what?”
“I said, sure,” Khaotung repeated louder, offering a soft, polite smile.
First whipped around and embraced Est in a hug. “Did you hear that?” he yelled, “He said yes!”
Est stood stiffly, arms frozen at his sides, “Yes, I heard that, but I don’t think I’m the person you’re supposed to be hugging right now.”
First whips around again, his hands hovering awkwardly in the air, “May I?”
And before he could say anything, Khaotung stepped forward and wrapped his arms around him. First hugged back, way tighter, like he was afraid that Khaotung would vanish again if he didn’t hold on hard enough. He lifted Khaotung off the ground and spun him around, laughing breathlessly with glee.
Khaotung could have sworn his heart skipped a beat.
Est cleared his throat.
First stopped spinning and looked around. Only then did he realise that half of the campus was staring at them. He slowly set Khaotung back down.
“Oookay. This is my sign to leave,” Est muttered, “See you guys at lunch.”
First ignored Est entirely, his arms still hovering awkwardly near Khaotung’s waist.
“So…” First said breathlessly, “Are we boyfriends now?”
Khaotung blinked.
“I said you could court me,” he said gently, “Let’s not get too ahead of ourselves. Can we take it slow?”
“Oh,” First mumbled, his ears turning red, “Yes! Yes, I’m so sorry. Just- yes, yeah. I love slow burn, slow is my thing. I can slow, definitely.”
The corners of Khaotung’s lips curved upwards. First noticed immediately.
“Oh my god! You’re smiling!” He pointed out.
“Of course I smile,” Khaotung replied, “It’s not like I lost ALL my emotions.”
First grinned at that. But deep in his heart, he knew, or at least hoped, that smile was different.
“Can I walk you to class?” he asked, voice suddenly softer.
“First, we have the same class.”
“Oh. Right. Yes. Let’s walk together?”
Khaotung gave a curt nod. They began side by side. Though they were not really touching, they were close enough that their shoulders brushed every few steps. Khaotung looked straight ahead, but First couldn’t stop glancing over every few seconds.
His hand twitched once, then twice, visibly aching as he stopped himself from reaching over. On the third attempt, his fingers brushed against Khaotung’s lightly.
They both froze.
First inhaled sharply, “Sorry.”
“It’s fine.”
Then, out of nowhere, First started to laugh. “Wow. I just publicly confessed, and now I’m panicking over holding your hand. That’s embarrassing.”
Khaotung glanced at him. He moved his hand closer. And when their fingers brushed again, he didn’t pull back.
Carefully, First intertwined their fingers, his cheeks now as red as his ears.
Khaotung looked down at their joined hands.
Strangely, it didn’t feel empty.
But there was no flutter, his heart didn’t start to ache or beat loudly.
Instead, there was warmth.
He didn’t say anything.
A month later
The dried sunflower sat in a tall glass bottle on Khaotung’s desk, its petals curled at the edges, and its colour had faded into a soft brown. He had told himself that throwing them away would be wasteful.
He was admiring it when he heard a knock on his door.
He opened it to reveal First, dressed in a white button-up and khaki pants. His hair was messy, not in the way that hurts the eye, but in the way that one could tell he put effort into it.
First straightened and held up a new bouquet of white daffodils.
“For you,” he said, “I kind of figured your sunflowers would dry out by now.”
Khaotung gave him a soft smile, took the flowers and opened the doors wider for First to step in.
“Thank you, these are beautiful,” he said, as he removed the sunflowers and replaced them with the daffodils. The white petals glowed under the rays of sunlight that had seeped through the curtains.
First stayed silent as he watched Khaotung elegantly handle the flowers, a soft smile forming on his face.
“Thank you, by the way,” First suddenly spoke up, “For agreeing to come on a date with me. For letting me try again.”
Yes, Khaotung had finally agreed to go on a date with First.
It was after one peaceful night, when Khaotung lay in bed, eyes fixed on the ceiling. The air was filled with silence, and that gave Khaotung all the space he needed to replay the past few weeks in his head.
The way First was there every lunch. The way First listened to Khaotung talk about a recent book he had annotated. How their study sessions often turned into time for First to stare at Khaotung as if he were something precious.
Khaotung bit his lips and tried to listen for his heartbeat.
It was still calm.
So he tried something else.
He imagined First walking away. First giving up.
And his chest tightened instantly. The room suddenly felt smaller.
He knitted his eyebrows together. Because for the first time since the surgery, the thought of losing First did not feel like reading empty words in a fanfic.
It felt very real.
And it scared him.
Khaotung looked up to First and offered a soft smile, “Thank you for not giving up.”
For a moment, they just looked at each other.
“You look good.” First blurted out.
Khaotung felt heat creep up his neck, “You too.”
First clearly didn’t expect that.
They had a simple dinner at their favourite Italian restaurant. They talked about the simple things, like Khaotung’s life in the States and what had happened in Thailand after he left. At one point, First stopped talking and just leaned slightly towards Khaotung, his face resting on the palm of his hand.
“Wait-“ Khaotung paused mid-sentence, “I’m talking too much, aren’t I? I’m so-“
“Don’t,” First cut in softly, “Don’t stop talking. I like listening to you.”
Khaotung looked away, his cheeks warming up.
After dinner, Khaotung invited First back to his place.
They stood by the railing of his balcony. A light breeze brushed against them as they stared out at the quiet city humming below.
First shifted slightly, sliding his hand into Khaotung’s. He exhaled shakily.
“You know,” he muttered, “I promised myself that I would go slow with you.”
“You did.”
“I’m trying very hard right now.” his free hand gripped the railing just a little tighter.
Khaotung turned to look at him. First did the same, brushing his thumb gently against Khaotung’s knuckles.
“Can I..” First trailed off. He let out a small laugh, “Wow, I’m really bad at this.”
“At what?”
“At pretending I don’t want to kiss you right now.”
Khaotung stepped closer, so close that First’s breath caught in his throat.
“You can,” Khaotung said quietly, looking into First’s eyes.
First searched his eyes for doubt.
He didn’t find any.
So, carefully, his hand came up, hovering for a second before cradling the side of Khaotung’s face.
He closed the distance.
Khaotung’s eyes fluttered shut.
Their lips touched softly, as if they were both afraid to break something fragile. It was hesitant.
Khaotung had expected to feel nothing.
Instead, he felt warmth spreading across his chest. He felt heat creeping up his neck, possibly painting his ears red. He tightened his grip on First’s shirt on instinct.
First made a quiet, startled sound at that.
Khaotung’s heart skipped.
Once.
But it was enough.
First pulled back slightly, searching Khaotung’s face for any sign of regret, “Was that okay?”
Khaotung’s eyes remained closed, and softly, “Yeah…it was.”
First smiled.
This time, Khaotung leaned in again.
First other arm wrapped around Khaotung’s waist. Though their kiss was still as soft as the first, there was no sign of hesitation.
When they finally pulled apart, First was smiling, breathless, “I hope that was okay.”
Khaotung stayed silent. He was trying to listen. He could hear his heart thumping. He could feel himself trembling slightly.
“…Firfir,” he whispered.
First straightened at the tone, fear creeping into his expression, “Yeah?”
Khaotung swallowed and took First’s hand, placing it against his chest.
“I think,” he mumbled.
He paused. First’s expression had shifted, visibly displaying concern.
“I think I felt something.”
Silence.
First, although scared, quietly asked, “Something…bad?”
Khaotung shook his head almost immediately, “No. Not like that.”
“It wasn’t like before.”
Before the surgery.
Before all the feelings of looking into a dark void.
“But it wasn’t empty either.”
First had stopped breathing.
“When you kissed me,” he continued, “My heart skipped.”
The words landed heavily between them.
First’s lips parted slightly, his eyes sparkled, “Skipped?”
“Once…maybe twice.”
First laughed shakily, his tears threatened to fall, “That’s.. oddly specific.”
“Sor-“
“But it’s so you, Khaotung.”
Khaotung smiled faintly, “But it scared me.” He added quietly.
First’s smile faded for a second, “Why?”
“Because I haven’t felt like this in a very long time. Not with you.”
Both of First’s hands came up to cradle the side of Khaotung’s face softly.
“Please don’t force it,” he whispered, “This means so much more than you think. No matter how small it is.”
Khaotung looked at him steadily.
“I want to see what happens.”
“Yeah?”
Khaotung didn’t answer. He simply leaned in and kissed him again.
And he felt his heart skip once more.
You see, love, is like flowers. Some bloom only once in a lifetime. But you could always replant them, nurture them and watch them grow. Even if it's not exactly the same flower, and you might not even live to see it bloom fully, the process of it growing is beautiful in itself. The way the branches would stretch outward slowly, the small leaves changing colour every other season and the way its stem would change shape and bend towards the sun.
Who knows? Maybe the new flower would be more beautifully breathtaking than the last.
But not many care enough to witness that.
Not many are lucky enough.
Not like First and Khaotung.
The End