Work Text:
The first time he forgets it is innocent enough.
Arthit was in a rush to get to work, doing a quick pat on his pockets to make sure he carried his keys, wallet, and phone with him as he rushed out the door. He had overslept again, despite Kongpob’s best efforts to get him to wake up on time. It was really a bad habit he should break. Forgoing the elevator, he bounded down the stairs, taking two steps at a time to quicken his pace. In his haste, Arthit had forgotten the lunch that Kongpob had left on the kitchen counter.
The lunchbox lay innocuously on the table.
(He made it to work with two minutes to spare.)
---
The second time he forgot, it was an accident too.
Arthit had woken up early enough, leisurely got ready, and went to work with a bounce in his step and a twinkle in his eye. The day had started off wonderfully. There was no one to blame except his amorous boyfriend. Kongpob kept him distracted all morning long until he stepped out the door, causing him to leave the carefully prepared lunchbox once more.
Kongpob brought it to him at work an hour later.
---
The subsequent third, fourth, and fifth times seemed intentional.
Kongpob was suspicious.
---
The first time Kongpob mentioned it, Arthit reassured him it wasn’t on purpose.
---
The second time it was brought up, Arthit diverted his attention with a well-timed kiss, which led to a whole lot of forgetting in a different matter.
---
The third time, Arthit promised Kongpob he wouldn’t forget.
Kongpob smiled at him then, reassured by Arthit’s words and feather touches. Soft lips pressing against his own.
Everything seemed in order.
Until Arthit would conveniently “forget” again the next morning.
---
The thing was, other than that very first time (and second), Arthit knew what he was doing.
He loved when Kongpob doted on him.
He also refused to admit that he loved it when Kongpob doted on him.
So he continued with the farce.
But under the blanket of the night sky and the silky pull of the duvet covers, he could be thankful. Arthit could voice his love for Kongpob with the cadence of his words, with the graze of his mouth, with the friction of his body.
They both felt loved.
In different ways.
--
Arthit pretended to forget every time Kongpob mentioned it, claiming temporary memory loss.
Kongpob knew though. And Arthit knew that Kongpob knew.
They both knew how vivid Arthit’s memory was. How he remembered every single one of their anniversaries. Even the obscure, mundane ones.
It didn't stop them from continuing to play this charade of forgetfulness.
It was rather convenient when your boyfriend hand delivered your lunch to your workplace.
So Arthit kept doing it.
Kept “forgetting” to bring his lunch.
(Kongpob stopped mentioning it.)
And the cycle continued.