Chapter Text
As the morning sun gently filters through the curtains, casting a warm glow upon the room, Tinn stirs out of his cozy slumber, opening his drowsy eyes. He inhales deeply, feeling his body gradually adjust to consciousness, and extends his arm, previously resting on Gun's waist, towards the nightstand beside him. With ease, his searching hand finds his glasses, and once they’re perched on his nose, he turns to his right to behold one of his favorite sights: Gun's peaceful sleeping face.
Gun's lips, slightly parted, release soft puffs of air, breaking the silence in the room. Tinn is reminded of the innocent teenage Gun who once shared a bed with him while preparing for midterms. Yet, the visible differences that came with their increasing age remind Tinn that those days are long gone. He notices the healing scar on Gun's forehead, a result of Sound accidentally smacking him with a guitar a week ago. The silver nose ring, a spontaneous decision in their second semester of college, now adorning Gun's face. And the long hair Gun has been growing out, now falling halfway down his neck. Tinn gently brushes his hand through Gun's soft hair at the nape of his neck, admiring his beauty, and a small grin forms on his face.
Indulging in the physical closeness, Tinn leans in and presses two gentle kisses against Gun's forehead, using his hand on the other’s neck to hold his head in place. It was becoming increasingly rare for them to have leisurely mornings to sleep in. Tinn wishes he could freeze time in these moments.
Gun stirs slightly under the touch, his eyebrows slowly furrowing as his lips close and he swallows. For a moment, Tinn thinks Gun is still asleep, but then he nuzzles deeper into the pillow and Tinn's arm, inhaling deeply and exhaling slowly. Tinn watches with a growing grin as Gun’s dazed eyes open and struggle to focus. After a few sluggish blinks, Gun's eyes meet Tinn's gaze, sparking an overwhelming sense of joy in Tinn's heart. His boyfriend is so cute when he’s sleepy.
Tinn leans forward and presses a soft kiss against Gun’s lips, savoring the taste of their shared love, morning breath be damned. Their lips move together a bit clumsily, both still in a state of half-awakeness, but it makes Tinn hum contentedly nonetheless. It’s in these small moments that he finds solace and a sense of belonging. Their shared apartment, shared room, shared bed is like a sanctuary in which Tinn can exist and love without worry.
“Good morning, love” Tinn whispers, afraid to disrupt the delicate moment with a loud sound. Gun’s hand comes up to his neck to grab Tinn’s and intertwines their fingers. Gun kisses the back of Tinn’s hand before resting their joined hands between their bodies, their thumbs naturally caressing the exposed skin.
“Tinn,” Gun whispers back, voice still groggy and thick with sleep. A secret he’ll never admit to his singer boyfriend is that Gun’s deep morning voice was his favorite sound, especially when it called his name. With a playful, toothy smile, Gun adds, “your breath stinks.”
Suppressing an eye roll, Tinn retorts, “So does yours.”
Nevertheless, he leans in for another kiss, this time less clumsy and more delicate. At first, their lips slide together languidly, a slow exploration that hints at the depths of their longing. But as Gun releases a low groan from the depths of his throat, a familiar instinct ignites within Tinn, urging him to take and take. The kiss grows in intensity with a gentle urgency, their mouths locked in a fervent embrace. All it takes is a teasing lick from Tinn’s tongue for Gun to part his lips for more, arching his chest to bridge any remaining distance between them.
Gun is always debauchedly pliant in the morning. Sleep tends to cling onto him even after getting up from bed. This enchanting fact has caused Tinn to be late to class more times than he’d like to admit. But today, free from the constraints of obligations, Tinn allows himself to drown in the intoxicating pull of Gun's yielding body. Releasing his grip on Gun’s hand, his fingers venture up Gun’s short-clad thighs, exploration hidden beneath the warmth of the comforter. This in tandem with the relentless movement of Tinn's tongue against Gun's sends waves of pleasure coursing through both of them, coaxing another low moan from Gun's lips. Before Tinn can reach for what he truly wants though, Gun’s hand intercepts his, halting his advance. With a mischievous grin, Gun pulls away from their electrifying kiss.
“Why’d you stop?” Tinn whines, his breath still ragged from their shared passion, and gives Gun a soft glare.
“Ai’Tinn,” he calls, his gaze docile yet captivating, “Don’t you have to get to the hospital?” Amusement danced in his eyes.
Tinn’s eyebrows knit in confusion, “What?”
When he blinks again, Gun vanishes from his sight. Instead, Tinn finds himself lying on his back in bed, a blaring alarm piercing the air from the nightstand. The familiar sight of his bedroom's pale white ceiling and black ceiling fan snap him back to reality. His gaze shifts to the empty space beside him, and a pang of disappointment washes over him. Though these were the same covers he’d been waking up in daily since returning to Bangkok three months ago, they now felt colder than ever, sending a shiver through his body as he rubs the remnants of sleep from his eyes. Tinn reaches out to silence the alarm, and once he retrieves his glasses, he glances at the screen, reading the date: Tuesday, May 20th, 2034, 7:04 AM. Time to get ready for his 12-hour shift at the hospital.
While he brushes his teeth, Tinn fails to not think about the vivid dream he woke up from. His dreams about Gun weren’t necessarily uncommon, he’s had them since high school. He tries to rationalize the accompanying feelings of shame and sadness that come with them by reminding himself of their five-year relationship. Being an item that long, memories were bound to resurface in his subconscious, weaving themselves into a tapestry of dreams. But it has been over a year since he last dreamt of Gun, and he took it as a sign that he was finally moving on, letting go of the image of Gun as his lover. Yet here he was, haunted once again.
“Weird.” He mumbles, before shaking his head in an attempt to dislodge the usual loneliness that accompanied memories of his past relationship.
The remainder of his morning routine unfolds like a familiar dance. He gets his scrubs and lab coat on, gathering any remnants of work—paperwork, notes—into his backpack as well as a change of clothes for when he leaves the office, and he packs his lunch bag with the leftovers from last night.
He’s filling his water bottle up, nearly ready to leave the apartment, when the familiar ping of his phone grabs his attention. After securing the bottle's top with a twist, he turns his gaze towards the screen.
From P’Van👬: Morning darling, I’m boarding the plane in Heathrow now. I’ll text you when I land in Don Mueng, kisses 😘
The message extracts a chuckle from Tinn. Rolling his eyes fondly, he hurries to type back.
Tinn🤓: Enjoy your 14-hour journey back, sweetheart 😂😚
---
Only after debriefing the student interns and residents on their pending work, a task Tinn holds in disfavor as a first-year pediatric oncology fellow, did he find a moment to delve into his email. There’s a couple of unread responses to threads with the senior doctors discussing work and some promotional messages about American medical programs he still gets from when he was thinking about doing his fellowship abroad. A scattering of medical news updates along with a handful of advertisements from the websites Tinn frequents sit amidst the digital clutter. Yet, one peculiar email stands out like a solitary still figure in a bustling crowd. Its subject line reads, "Join Sound and Win on Their Special Day This June!"
Though Tinn’s curiosity blossoms at the title, already having an inkling as to the rest of the message, he prioritizes his work emails. It takes him looking over a couple of patients' digital files to finish his replies, wearily sighing at the additional task to add to his to-do list for the day that arose from the correspondence. While Tinn recognizes that familiarity with this workload should have taken root within him by now, he's still technically in the learning phase. Thankfully, the full-fledged research that he must begin next year promises a respite. Maybe then it won’t feel like he’s drowning in new things to do and learn day in and day out. He clung to his greatest motivator, the belief that his research and work will help thousands of children suffering from cancer every year.
After stalling some more by reading a couple of articles on medical news, his mouse hovers over the unconventional email. He’s known about Sound and Win’s engagement since the previous year, privy to the momentous news through Win's personal Instagram posts capturing the heartfelt proposal. Perfectly encapsulating their essence, the video showed Win getting down on one knee in front of the same ocean they’d once confessed to each other on and asking the question with some resounding cheers from the people behind the camera. Sound, in response, playfully whined Win's name before producing his own boxed ring, prompting an embrace between the two as laughter and cheers spilled forth from their audience.
Tinn called his old high school friends later that day to congratulate them. Since that conversation, he had been aware of his forthcoming invitation to their wedding. However, it wasn't until later that the full weight of the situation pressed upon Tinn's mind, the implications of reuniting with his old college companions dawning upon him. And foremost among those implications was the looming encounter with the man who had shattered his heart five years ago.
Tinn right clicks.
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subject: Join Sound and Win On Their Special Day This June!
Greetings close friends and family of Sound Saran and Win,
We are delighted to invite you, along with a guest of your choice, to partake in the joyous celebration of the couple's auspicious day. The festivities will take place over a remarkable 4-day weekend, from June 22nd to June 25th, 2034. Prepare to indulge in an unforgettable experience at a five-star all-inclusive resort situated on the private island of Maafushi in the Maldives. This idyllic location offers an array of luxurious villas and amenities, complemented by a range of group and couple activities, provided at no additional expense for guests of the husbands-to-be.
To ensure the complete enjoyment of the occasion, we kindly request your presence at the following essential events: a pre-wedding day dinner on June 23rd, the engagement ceremony, wedding ceremony, and reception on June 24th, and a farewell brunch on June 25th. A comprehensive itinerary detailing the weekend's schedule is enclosed within the attached document titled 'Itinerary'. Apart from these scheduled events, guests are welcome to engage in activities of their choice. Please note that guests are responsible for making their own travel arrangements to the island, which we have provided recommendations for in the attached document titled ‘Travel’.
We kindly request your RSVP no later than May 27th, 2034. To ensure your attendance, reply to this invitation by completing the provided 'RSVP' form, and remember to include the name and contact information of your accompanying guest.
Sound and Win eagerly anticipate your presence on this momentous occasion, as they embark on this remarkable journey of love. Should you have any inquiries or require further assistance, please contact the dedicated team at Regal Weddings.
With warm regards,
The Regal Weddings Team
Tinn opens all the attachments, including that of their official wedding card invitation and the picture that sits at the center of it ignites a radiant smile upon his face. The photograph captures Win and Sound donned in pristine white and black suits, their hands clasping the collars of each other's garments in an embrace that at first seems hostile, but their gazes shimmering with affection give away the tenderness of it. Tinn's heart swells with joy.
As he peruses the RSVP form, Tinn dwells on who his plus one could be, Van making the top of the list quickly, considering their close relationship. More pressing in his brain, however, is the thought of who a particular singer-songwriter could be bringing as his plus one.
“Doctor, could you take a look at this inpatient’s chart-?” The student resident interrupts his train of thought, dispersing from his brain the lingering image of Gun beside his model girlfriend on the red carpet mere weeks ago.
---
“Shit, Sound, this is so damn fancy.” Gun exclaims, his eyes dancing with mirth as he holds the wedding invitation bestowed upon him by his friend and bandmate.
“Stop laughing at my wedding invitation, you ass.” Sound retorts, shooting Gun an unamused glare.
“I’m not laughing at it, I just think it’s cute.” Gun teases further with a tickle to Sound’s chin, narrowly avoiding a swift finger flick from the other, as Gun retreats quickly back to his chair.
“You’re lucky you even got a physical one, we couldn’t print enough in time to mail them to everyone.” Sound scolds, striding towards the mini fridge to retrieve a bottle of water.
Gun pouts upon witnessing the arrival of their fellow bandmates, Ann and Praew, entering the dressing room trailer. “Guys, Sound is telling me off again.”
Praew nonchalantly takes a seat, their hair and makeup freshly done, barely acknowledging Gun's whining and instead becoming engrossed in whatever is on their phone screen. Meanwhile, Ann settles beside Gun in front of the expansive mirror, meticulously inspecting her makeup, and offhandedly replies, “And what did you do to make him do it?”
“I just said his wedding invitation was fancy.” Gun replies, sweeping aside the cascading strands of hair obscuring his eyes. At the mention of the wedding, Ann and Praew exchange a furtive look before stealing a glance at Sound, gauging his reaction.
“And laughed at it, asshole.” Sound interjects through clenched teeth, though a glimmer of amusement flickers in his eyes.
“Nong, can you not piss off your bandmate for two minutes?” Praew asks with their characteristic indifference. Playfully, Gun sticks out his tongue towards Praew, who promptly threatens him with their drumstick.
“I think the invitation is perfect, P’Sound,” Ann chimes in, her grin brimming with fondness as she snatches the cardstock from Gun's grasp, perusing its contents, “very you and P’Win.”
Gun rises from his seat and leans over to envelop Praew in a backhug, “I’m excited for the free food and drink.”
Praew extends a clenched fist, initiating a fist bump between the two as matching smirks etch upon their faces, “You mean party hard as fuck,” Praew corrects, prompting Gun to nod with a giggle and straighten up to rest his hands upon Praew's shoulders.
This finally gets a laugh out of Sound, “Oho, calm down. Win and I’s family are still gonna be there, so I need you guys to behave.” he admonishes, pointing an accusatory finger at Praew and Gun, the band’s resident party animals.
“Good luck with that,” Ann murmurs with a disapproving shake of her head.
Their lively banter is interrupted by the arrival of their managers, Tong and Yuri, barging into the dressing room, “Alright Euphoria, we have 10 minutes before performance time, let’s get your packs back on,” they announce, swiftly distributing in-ear monitors and sound packs to the band.
The four-piece band have grown accustomed to the backstage rush, leaving their previous conversation behind as they transition into performance mode. With their managers and staff in tow, they embark towards the stage. Today, they’re performing an hour-long set at a music festival in Chiang Mai. The anticipation thrums through Gun's veins, excited to perform a brand new song from the band’s upcoming July release. They finished recording the album already and are utilizing the time before Sound's wedding for promotional work, having already secured the latter half of June for a well-deserved rest.
Concealed behind the curtains, they huddle in a circle, as the previous act bids their farewells to the festival crowd. Gun, in typical pre-stage tradition, extends his hand between them. One by one, the other three bandmates follow suit, their hands stacking upon his, “Alright Euphoria, let’s go out there and get people high off life.” In perfect unison, the quartet chants, "1, 2, 3, break!" as their hands press down together and they make their way to the stage.
---
Despite his earlier teasing, Gun is unbelievably happy for Sound and Win. He’s been excited about the wedding since Sound asked him for help searching for an engagement ring over a year ago. When Win revealed to him that their beach getaway last fall was all a clever ploy to propose, Gun's excitement had nearly caused him to blurt out the secret that Sound was planning the same. He would’ve never thought the bickering and fighting couple he’d witnessed awkwardly confessing on the beach a decade ago would be the first of their college friends to get married.
For the longest time, Gun believed he would be the first to reach that milestone. But five years into the relationship he thought would be his last, everything changed. He changed, and so did Tinn. His college experience quickly taught him about the inevitability of change. How love could change in subtle ways, shifts only discernible after they’ve distorted his truths completely. Gun understands that the past is beyond alteration. All he can do is learn from it and try to move towards a better future. At least, that’s what the band’s therapist keeps preaching to him. Yet lately, his brain is consumed by thoughts of how different his life would be had he not departed from Tinn's side all those years ago. Maybe he would’ve never debuted with Euphoria, never secured his first record deal, never graced the stage before thousands of people. Maybe, by now, he would’ve been wedded, living blissfully as Doctor Tinn’s trophy husband.
Gun hasn’t succumbed to these what-ifs in years, but in the wake of his and Love’s breakup, his old doubts resurfaced. From the very moment he met the model, Gun had felt his real self, not the persona he’d developed as he grew in fame, embraced by her presence; a rarity in the superficial industry of entertainment. Their shared dislike for the gaudy displays of wealth and artificiality that permeated paid promotional events and award ceremonies had united them. Later they learned both of them grew up with a single parent. Their similar upbringing made Gun feel emotionally connected to her in a way he hadn’t felt with anyone since Tinn. She candidly understood why being a singer meant everything to him as she felt the same way about modeling.
Despite the countless hours they spent engaged in late-night conversations and intimate pillow talk about life, what they want to do during it and what comes after it, Gun could never bring himself to tell her the complete truth. He thought with time his heart would slowly allow him to heal, open up, and move on from the heartbreak, because Love wasn’t Tinn and he wasn’t the same Gun from then. But eleven months in, he had yet to voice the real reason behind the tall walls guarding his heart: his deep fear of once again becoming constrained by a codependent relationship, where his own happiness hinged on the presence and contentment of another person. At least not until the night Love asked to break up.
After avoiding yet another question that hit too close to home, she called him out on his inability to discuss his past relationship. The unadulterated frustration and confusion in her face, contrasting her typical demure and kind demeanor, was what finally drove Gun, stripped of all pretenses, to reveal the reason behind his breakup with Tinn. Also revealing the relentless heartbreak that had consumed him for months afterward and the lingering "what ifs" that haunted his thoughts throughout the years.
After a minute of deafening silence separating them, she announced, “I get it now…You’re still in love with him.” Gun shook his head, ready to deny the claim yet unable to look her in the eye, but she pressed on, “That guilt you’re holding onto, about the breakup, it’s not going away anytime soon, Gun. You need to get closure, you need to see Tinn again to hear how he truly felt then.”
"You're right," Gun admitted, his voice quivering with vulnerability, as his own tears began to flow freely. Despite having her own heart broken, Love wrapped her arms around him tightly. Within that solace, a tidal wave of guilt surged through his chest, crashing against his heart.
In that raw moment, he apologized to Love for leading her on. Though the loneliness left by her absence would be difficult to overcome after their time spent together, he knew distance would be the sole key to disentangling the knotted threads that were his emotions. With a shared understanding, they vowed to quickly disclose the breakup to their respective teams, a preemptive measure to avert any awkward bookings of joint events.
The rest of the band is aware of it too. Despite their efforts to maintain an air of normalcy, Gun noticed fleeting moments in the past three weeks where his bandmates, upon the sight of him, halted their words or quickly changed the topic of wedding-related discussions. In fact, their earlier dressing room conversation was the first time Gun joined in the wedding talk. They know him well enough to understand his signal that he no longer required delicate handling.
He was serious about his excitement for the event though, and not because of the free food and alcohol. Rather, he’s ecstatic to be attending the union of his two dearest friends surrounded by friends and family in a secluded paradise. Even better, this will be Euphoria’s first proper vacation since debut; they will be completely work-free for four whole days. In spending a few days free of leader responsibilities, Gun holds a glimmer of hope that, at long last, he can confront the unresolved feelings that have haunted him. Finally facing the person he’d left crying that terrible night half a decade ago.
“Ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain speaking, we will be arriving at Don Mueang airport shortly-” The distant voice of the captain reverberates through the plane's intercom, jolting Gun from his introspection. The vibrant sunset that had once adorned the small window yielded to the gloomy cityscape of Bangkok, dark storm clouds rolling in gradually.
Gently nudging Sound, who lay snoring against his shoulder, Gun attempts to wake him. The other stirs and stretches to sit upright in his seat.
“How much longer?” Sound mumbles groggily, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.
Gun closes the window, “I think the captain said we’ll be there in 20.”
Sound hums in acknowledgment, diverting his attention to his other side where their manager Tong is sitting. Their conversation fades into a distant murmur as Gun mentally prepares himself for the imminent landing. Although it’s gotten easier over the years, flying still gives Gun anxiety. The only way he can handle take-off and landings sans panic attack is to obscure his view of the outside world. He quickly shuts his eyes and tightly grips the armrests at the first turbulent drop of their descent.
---
“Alright, everyone has bags, passport, phone?” Yuri booms, ensuring the band and team could hear, after the last of their stylists retrieved their suitcase from the conveyor belt. A chorus of affirmations and agreeable sounds fills the space, and their manager nods, taking the lead towards the exit of the baggage claim, everybody following behind her.
Ann wraps her arm not carrying her suitcase around Gun's waist, her touch comforting as she proposes, “P’Gun, P’Praew and I are thinking about going for drinks later, we just have to drop off our bags at the apartment. Wanna come with?”
Gun’s arm finds its way around Ann’s shoulder, and he thinks about it for a second. A drink to soothe his previously adrenaline-filled body after their performance sounds enticing. “I could use a drink.”
Ann expresses her approval with a praising noise and a squeeze to his waist.
“Did you tell Sound?”
With an exasperated sigh, she provides, “He’s got date night…you know how those two get when they’re separated.”
Gun scrunches his nose at the thought, face contorting with discomfort, and nods in agreement, “Cranky and clingy.”
“Yup.” Ann affirms, her voice tinged with amusement.
After a few minutes of hustling through the airport, they make it to the arrivals terminal. Gun's eyes spot Win, standing near the gate entrance, holding a sign displaying Sound's name with a red heart next to it. The team playfully teases Sound, their excited squeals and whoops reaching a crescendo as he rushes ahead of them, enveloping his fiancé in a tight embrace. Meanwhile, Ann, Praew, and Gun exchange glances of mild annoyance, and Praew pretends to gag. Laughing, Gun playfully slaps their chest, urging them to stop their theatrics.
Tong addresses their small group of staff, gratitude echoing in his voice, as they gather away from the doors spewing arriving passengers. “Thank you for your hard work today team, make sure to get home safe and get some rest. We don’t have anything tomorrow but make sure to check the schedule for the rest of the week, we still have a few appearances and interviews coming up. We will send any updates to the group chat.”
As farewells and embraces are exchanged and the group disperses to find their way home, only the band members and Tong remain. Tong is typically responsible for escorting the musicians to their respective homes in the team van.
“Alright, Sound is leaving with Win so you three wait here for me while I go get the van, keep an eye on your phone.” The manager announces, pointing to his own device, and the trio acknowledges his instructions before he takes off towards the exit.
The engaged couple, who had been lost in their own world moments ago, finally approaches them. Gun rolls his eyes at their bashful grins, a clear display of their burgeoning affection.
"Ai'Sound, I didn't realize you had a personal chauffeur," he jests.
“Chauffeur, my ass, you jerk,” Win sasses through gritted teeth before giving Gun, Ann, and Praew affectionate hugs in greeting.“You guys sounded great today, you could hear the crowd on the livestream,” Win compliments, moving to hold Sound’s waist.
Praew teases with an arched brow, “Ironic, coming from the man who produced the songs we performed.”
Win shakes his head with a chuckle, “Seriously, I liked it. Festivals can be tough.”
Ann saunters over, her finger pointing in a playful circle towards Win. "Did you like our performance or our lead guitarist?"
Win captures her finger, a smirk adorning his lips. "Both," he confesses, his voice a sly tune. The group erupts in mock gagging and disgruntled sounds from everyone except the culprit and his enamored, blushing fiance, standing silently beside him, their smiles speaking volumes.
“Enough, we have plans that don’t involve any of you,” Sound finally interjects. He reaches into his carry-on, retrieving a clear umbrella and thrusting it into Gun's hand, “We’ll head out first, text me when you all make it home, be careful with the rain.”
“Yes, dads, enjoy your alone time.” Ann replies, pinching the cheeks of both men. They back away from her, Sound swatting her arm away.
“See you both later,” Gun waves with a soft grin, only for it to transform into a scowl when Praew chimes in, “Don’t forget to use protection.”
“Is it just me or are they getting grosser and grosser the closer we get to the wedding?” Gun inquires, his voice tinged with playful annoyance, as the three watch the pair walk towards the exit, hands interlocked tightly. The other two chime in with sounds of agreement. Deciding to settle near the exit, they seek a spot to wait at, and after a few minutes of sitting, their phones simultaneously ping.
To euphoric children✨ from P’Tong ☺️❣️: Found the van, please be ready outside, kiddies
To euphoric children✨ from P’Praew⛓️🖤: sir, yes, sir!
With that, Gun, Ann, and Praew make their way to the front. The rain becomes visible before it becomes audible as they cross the exit, pouring down with the typical fury of a late May downpour, obstructing their view of the far distance. Ann and Praew huddle under Praew's larger umbrella, while Gun unfurls the clear one Sound had given him earlier.
“Let’s move a bit further away from the crowd,” Praew points to the left and Gun follows closely behind as they hasten to seek for a clearer area, away from the herd of people making their way in and out of the gate. Amidst their stride, Gun's suitcase snags on an object lying in their path, causing it to tumble and sway away from his side. Gun hears and feels the thud as the sturdy luggage collides with something—or more precisely, someone—walking in the opposite direction. It strikes the stranger's leg, or at least it appears so, as the person hisses in pain, reaching down to touch their knee beside Gun.
“I’m so sorry, are you alright?” Gun swiftly moves the suitcase out of the way, letting it go and extending his hand toward the stranger's knee.
The stranger's hand halts his motion with an open palm as they straighten their posture. "That's alright, I'm fine, it—" The voice trails off as the stranger lifts their head, their eyes meeting Gun's gaze.
Recognition surges through Gun like a jolt of electricity, causing his heart to leap to his throat.
“Ai’Tinn?”
---
“Hey love, I just got through immigration,” Van's voice echoes through the speakers of Tinn's car, as he searches for a parking spot.
“Ok, I’ll find a spot and go in because I’m about to piss myself,” Tinn complains, urgency clear in his voice. “Call me when you’re leaving baggage claim please.”
A chuckle resonates from the other end, “Ok, I should still be leaving from the gate on the screenshot I sent you. See you in a bit!”
Soon after ending the call, Tinn spots an available parking spot. Grabbing his umbrella, he hastily leaps out of the car to find the nearest path into the airport. It’s pouring heavily around him, and he’s stepping in a few big puddles, potentially drenching his shoes. Yet, his singular focus lies on reaching the bathroom. He’s nearly reaching the arrival terminal entrance when his leg collides with a stray suitcase that suddenly careens into his path, the rain making it hard to see too far in front of him. With a pained hiss, he clutches his knee, almost dropping his umbrella and becoming thoroughly soaked.
“I’m so sorry, are you alright?” The stranger's voice carries a gentle politeness, a soothing balm in the midst of discomfort, and Tinn appreciates the lack of rudeness. He rubs his clothed knee, and the pain recedes, allowing him to lift his gaze and properly behold the other person.
“That’s alright, I’m fine, it-” Tinn's words catch in his throat, surprise electrifying his senses as he recognizes the wide eyes staring back at him. For a fleeting moment, Tinn wonders if his mind is toying with him, perhaps influenced by the peculiar dream he had about Gun the night before. But then, the Gun-lookalike calls out his name, and it feels as though Tinn is transported back a decade to his 18-year-old self, consumed by an unrequited longing for the leader of the band Chinzhilla.
“Ai’Tinn?” Gun's eyes mirror the bewildered nostalgia that now takes residence in Tinn's heart.
Tinn manages a jerky nod, struggling to regain control over his movements, as he drinks in the sight of the person he has only seen through the internet for the past five years. His gaze traces a path from Gun's eyes to his hair, his nose, his lips, and his exposed neck. Pictures never managed to truly capture Gun’s ethereal beauty, Tinn thinks.
“What are you doing here?” Gun's lips shape the question, and Tinn realizes he has hardly uttered a complete sentence throughout this entire encounter. Pull yourself together, you gay mess.
“I’m picking up my-” Tinn's phone rings, interrupting his train of thought. Glancing at the name and picture on the screen, he curses under his breath. Right, he's here to pick up Van. And he still needs to relieve himself urgently. Engaging in a conversation with his ex of five years in this state is out of the question.
Taking a step back toward the gate entrance, Tinn says, “I’m sorry, Gun, someone is waiting for me,” and he picks up the phone, making his way to the building. His heart beats faster than it did when he left the parking lot, and a wave of regret washes over him as he reassures Van that he's on his way. He wishes he could have said more, something to express the whirlwind of emotions swirling within him.