Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Most of the time, masturbation is far from an enjoyable sexual experience. 

The advantage is that it is absolutely safe. 

With fair, slender fingers, he deftly unties the robe and slips his hand into the edge of his underwear. There is no need for unnecessary actions; his undeveloped body doesn't have many sensitive areas. His hand purposefully strokes his male features, and even the mechanical motion quickly brings him to a reflexive climax.

"Tung..."

First curls up like a shrimp on the sofa, panting softly. He squints his eyes and imagines his friend's captivating gaze, with his line of sight falling on a glass wine bottle not far away.

The color of the wine in the bottle deepens bit by bit.

---

"First, this is Mint. Mint has been following your IG for a long time and has been asking me to arrange a meeting with you. You're so lucky, Mint is the star of our school, the cheerleading captain, and the goddess of all the boys in school!"

First shifted a bit uneasily, showing just the right amount of bashfulness, and obediently greeted the girl sitting across from him. As expected, he saw a blush spread across her cheeks.

Contrary to his outward appearance, the leading man of this blind date was calmly calculating in his mind. This was the third time he had met a friend of his best friend's girlfriend. Khaotung seemed to have an unusually strong commitment to helping his friend find a partner, and his new girlfriend happened to be keen on double dating. Although First wanted to brush off the date like he had the previous two times, he knew he didn't have the energy to handle another invitation.

Yes, in this long and clichéd drama of a gay man pretending to be straight while secretly in love with his straight friend, First was nearing his limit.

Khaotung sat beside him, closer than what would be considered a safe distance. The faint warmth radiating from Khaotung's body burned half of First's body. Even without turning his head, First could guess his friend's expression. It was a look he knew all too well—intriguing, slightly mischievous, and probing, as if he might see right through him at any moment.

This time, the girl sitting across from him seemed much simpler, her eyes filled with undisguised admiration and nervousness. Khaotung's new girlfriend was a very lively girl, with big eyes and sharp lips, speaking at a rapid pace like a machine gun as she enthusiastically promoted her best friend.

So noisy, First maintained a smile with growing impatience.

[This girl is even noisier than me. Khaotung's taste is getting more and more peculiar.]

The girl meeting him for the first time shyly held her friend's arm, timely interrupting her. She smiled with crescent eyes as she started a conversation with First, courteously chatting about everything from the menu to her coffee art studies. The clear aegyo-sal under her eyes made First dazed for a moment.

At that moment, the hand on his knee was also grasped. His best friend, partner, and object of five years of unrequited love gently stroked the back of his hand with his thumb, seemingly to comfort and encourage him. However, First preferred to interpret it as a warning and a tease.

"N'Mint, I happen to be planning to pick out a graduation gift for a friend this afternoon. Would you... accompany me to choose one?"

He forced himself to ignore the ticklish sensation from the warmth on the back of his hand and focused his attention on the familiar smiling eyes across from him, proposing a solo date for the first time.

---

On the bookshelf in First's room, a bottle of handcrafted plum wine quietly bubbled. This was something First had brought back from the set three months ago, and it was something he had made himself, in his role as Sand.

Experiencing various lives within a limited lifespan is what First believes to be the most valuable aspect of being an actor. When he first entered the industry, he was a typical method actor. Due to a lack of theoretical or experiential support, he tried his best to empty the shell of First, allowing a new soul to enter and resonate with him. However, compared to his close friend Khaotung’s astonishing talent, this approach clearly didn't suit him. His excessive immersion in roles often led to overacting, making him forget to manage his expressions and body language in front of the camera. The prolonged residue of the character within his body after the shoot left him utterly exhausted.

Later, with the accumulation of acting classes, First gradually developed his own working method. By meticulously perfecting the character's backstory, finding real-life models to mimic, and designing specific habitual actions and catchphrases for the character, First's acting skills gradually gained public recognition. Now, every time he takes on a new role, it’s not so much that actor First tries to resonate with the character, but rather that parallel-world First creates a new life.

First enjoys and excels at creating lives that are vastly different from his own. The more details and imagination he adds to a character, the further it strays from his own self, making that life more three-dimensional and vivid. First can even sense their life trajectory beyond the script.

Sand is the latest creation, sharing First's face but existing completely independently from his own being.

Sand is skilled at making plum wine and makes a living from it. His wine rack is filled with bottles and jars of home-brewed wine at various stages of maturation. Although the assistant director had suggested using colored props to meet the shooting requirements and save costs, First had a different opinion. He privately visited a plum wine workshop, earnestly learning the techniques and processes of winemaking, and even made a few real "props" for the scene where a wine bottle is smashed in the drama. One of these unused bottles was requested by First as a keepsake and is now placed carefully on his bookshelf at home.

As for why he wanted to keep such a memento, First harbored reasons that were difficult to explain.

The real-life model he sought for Sand was Khaotung.

Sand's artistic and romantic aura is Khaotung. Sand's free and accepting attitude is Khaotung. Sand's confident and carefree demeanor is Khaotung. Sand's keen insight into human nature is Khaotung. Sand's gentle and considerate love is also Khaotung.

First had repeatedly mentioned in interviews that Sand was his favorite character. The audience eventually came to appreciate Sand's charm. Only First knew that the better he portrayed Sand, the more he was revealing Khaotung's qualities to the world.

Except for the fact that Khaotung is straight.

But Sand is different. Compared to the straight Khaotung, Sand is a more idealized lover. First had wished more than once that Khaotung could be as open-minded about orientations as Sand, and he had imagined more than once what it would be like to confess to a Khaotung who had transformed into Sand.

Just imagining it made him feel happy.

Sand might refuse, or he might accept, but he would never have a biased heart. If he refused, he would sincerely thank the other person for their affection and promise to give them special attention in the future. If he accepted, he would pour all his love unreservedly into his partner. He would listen, guide, and give selflessly, opening himself completely, both body and soul, to the other person. His lover would be the luckiest person in the world.

For the first time, after First stopped using the experiential method to act, a character continued to linger in the real world for such a long time. Over time, Sand grew further from the original templates of First and Khaotung, becoming an increasingly distinct and real entity, so much so that sometimes First felt a sense of disorientation when he looked at the bottle of plum wine on his shelf.

Having hidden his sexual orientation and secretly loved his friend for five years, First's entire sexual experience came from his right hand before bed. He loved cautiously, humbly, and painfully. This pain had been rapidly magnified over the past year as Khaotung persistently introduced him to potential girlfriends.

First skillfully pleasured himself, tears in his eyes fixed on the bottle of plum wine.

[If the one holding me wasn’t Khaotung, but Sand, wouldn’t I be less pathetic?]

In his nighttime fantasies, the lines between Khaotung and Sand blurred.

---

After wandering aimlessly around the streets with the girl he had just met for four hours, First returned home exhausted. He rarely switched on Do Not Disturb mode and fell asleep immediately until a rapid knocking at the door woke him up.

Khaotung stood at the apartment door, holding a plastic bag of takeout, his face full of concern. He first reached out to check First's forehead temperature. Confirming that First wasn't unwell, he leisurely changed shoes and entered, looking for plates to serve the takeout, moving as if he were the owner of the apartment.

First was sent off to wash his face. With his bangs wet, he sat silently at the dining table, waiting for his friend's judgment.

However, Khaotung didn't immediately address the issue. He filled First's plate with various foods, specifically removing the excess chili peppers. He then cut open a fresh lemon, adjusted the provided sauce, and pushed it towards First.

"Eat well. You've been getting thinner and thinner, firfir."

First felt a surge of emotion, but he masked it with a performance of being choked by the chili peppers.

Khaotung got up to pour him water and gently patted his back to calm him down.

First pointed to the empty set of utensils Khaotung had placed in front of him and asked if he had eaten. Khaotung shook his head: "I'll eat with you. Try a bit of everything; leave what you don't like for me."

First felt an inexplicable irritation. It was this attitude, this possibly unconscious and habitually family-oriented indulgence extended to friends, that wove a terrifying web of ambiguity, wrapping First tightly. By the time First realized this tenderness was a trap, the poison of his feelings had already seeped into his bones, paralyzing him and leaving him powerless to escape.

First tried weakly to resist: "This afternoon..."

Khaotung interrupted him bluntly: "Eat first, firfir. I said, don't rush."

The meal was a mixture of emotions. First mechanically repeated the actions of chewing and swallowing, suddenly realizing something absurd: eating and masturbation seemed no different, both were activities he engaged in to meet basic physiological needs in order to survive. He wanted to reach out to the person in front of him for more, but the words that reached the tip of his tongue retreated, becoming the norm in their interactions.

That night, Khaotung didn’t manage to extract any details about First’s solo date with the girl. When First wanted to be silent, he could play innocent and keep his mouth shut. Khaotung’s request to stay over was also refused by First, using the excuse that he hadn't been sleeping well lately. Before leaving, Khaotung didn’t forget to help First clear the leftover trash into the takeout plastic bag and tie it up. “This way you can go straight to rest,” he said.

As he was leaving, Khaotung held the plastic bag in one hand and gave First a tight hug with the other. He whispered in First’s ear:

“Don’t rush, firfir, give yourself some time to think it through, don’t hurry to choose anyone... no matter what happens, we’ll always be the most important people to each other. That will never change.”

---

Perhaps he had slept too much in the evening, as First tossed and turned without feeling sleepy. He decided to give up on sleeping and get up to play a couple of games, but was inexplicably drawn to the bottle on the bookshelf.

The wine had been brewing for three months, just transitioning from raw to mature, ready for tasting. First took out a glass and carefully tilted the bottle. The honey-colored liquid flowed out, accompanied by the pervasive aroma of green plums, sweet and intoxicating.

First suddenly felt certain that he needed to get drunk tonight. He downed the glass of wine in one gulp and then poured another.

In a daze, he returned to bed, stripped off his clothes, and began his usual pre-sleep ritual. He tenderly caressed his cheeks, neck, nipples, and abdomen, imagining Khaotung’s hands roaming over his body. With the aid of alcohol, his genitals quickly responded. However, for some reason, today First didn’t want to finish hastily. He stubbornly avoided touching his cock, instead closing his eyes and indulgently playing with his nipples while sinking into his fantasies.

These hands... the sensation didn’t feel like Khaotung’s. These were Sand’s hands.

Before he sank into dreams, First hadn’t climaxed. He didn’t know how long he slept, but the first thought that flashed through his mind upon waking was annoyance at not having reached orgasm. Casually, he moved his hand downward to continue the unfinished ritual from before sleep, but suddenly jolted awake with a shiver.

Beside him, on the bed, was another person who had just turned over.

Chapter Text

It's now half past ten in the evening.

This time is usually the busiest at YOLO and also the busiest for Sand. Not only does he warm up as a singer, but he also helps out at the bar when they're short-staffed. He typically sings only until the early hours because he can't afford to miss his early classes the next day. Weekends are an exception; if he feels like it, he'll pick someone attractive to take home for some action.

Until last month, Sand's schedule was quite stable... and then everything fell apart.

He met Ray, climbed into Ray's bed, surrendered his heart, and then watched as Ray threw that heart into the dust, shattered into pieces.

Ray got together with Mew. They're at YOLO, shamelessly embracing right under Sand's nose. Sand even darkly wishes that Ray is intentionally flaunting his affection for Mew in front of him, rather than completely ignoring him.

Ray borrowed a lighter from him at their usual meeting spot, smashing the mask of indifference on his face, his last defense. The melancholy mood quickly made Sand feel the effects of the two drinks he had earlier. Unable to pretend any longer and stay in the same space as this new couple, he called in sick and went home early.

But even going home couldn't make him feel any better. Sand turned the lights on and off; the fluorescent lighting made the room feel particularly bleak. Not long ago, Ray was kissing him in this room, breathing heavily above and below him, clinging to him in his sleep like an octopus. Sand had once read a theory comparing training humans to training dogs, saying it takes 28 days to cultivate a new habit in someone. He thought he could use this theory to train Ray to rely on him, but now it seems Sand himself has become the one who's been tamed. Now he sleeps with the left half of the bed empty.

It's too cold alone; this bed is just right for two people. Sand tosses and turns on his half, fantasizing about a warmth that can't possibly be behind him—

"Who's there?!"

This is a peculiar dream. Sand looked with some amusement at the lanky young man curled up at the foot of the bed, trying his best to make himself into a small ball, and wondered how he ended up creating a little figure exactly like himself in his dream to keep him company.

Subconsciously, it wasn’t Ray accompanying him, but another version of himself... Sand shook his heavy head vigorously. His brain was clouded with a hazy layer of alcohol, making it difficult to distinguish between logic and feeling. He guessed that Ray must have hurt him deeply to trigger such a strong self-protective tendency.

The little figure who called himself First looked like a weak, harmless version of Sand. With big, watery eyes and a trembling voice, he introduced himself, speaking in a tone completely different from the usual laid-back Sand, as if always expecting a response from the listener.

"He seems to know me, this room very well... Well, of course, it’s my dream. Can my face really make such an expression like a little bunny? So unfamiliar, unbelievable, clumsy, and... a bit cute."

Sand couldn't resist reaching out to pinch First's cheek. The touch was warm, very... real.

Before Sand could react to why the touch in his dream felt so real, he was startled by First’s action. He had prepared to apologize for his rude behavior before reaching out, but to his surprise, the timid and cautious young man grabbed his hand and pressed it tightly against his face, rubbing against it with a look of utter bliss.

"Wait, you..."

"Can't I?" Tears welled up in First's big eyes, as if they could fall at any moment. "Even in a dream... can’t I?"

Sand instantly lost his sense of right and wrong. Yes, this is a dream, why not?

"Thank you for coming to my dream," First kissed Sand's palm, cautiously and devoutly, "Thank you for willing to show me mercy and soothe my sadness."

"No, I should thank you for coming to my dream to soothe my sadness."

Sand actually wanted to ask First if someone had broken his heart too, but instinctively, he didn’t want to ruin this soft, champagne-bubbly atmosphere. He quietly wiped the moisture from the corner of First’s eye with his fingertip, waiting for him to finish speaking.

"...You really are just like him, willing to listen to me carefully. Even when I sometimes dislike myself for talking too much and being boring, he patiently and earnestly listens... Is he also so patient when listening to his girlfriend talk..."

From First’s fragmented statements, Sand gradually pieced together his story. First also had someone he couldn’t have, named Khaotung, and in this world, Khaotung played the role of Ray. Sand couldn’t help but mock himself for creating a character in his dream who was still a pathetic figure not chosen, still trapped in this love toyed with by fate. For a moment, he didn’t know whether to pity First or himself.

"I want to comfort you," Sand's hand remained on First's face. "Will you let me comfort you?"

"I will! I really will! Please, comfort me..."

"Tell me what you want me to do... Can I kiss you?"

"Yes, kiss me... anywhere..."

First closed his eyes. With all his defenses down, his entire body became a vulnerable point, allowing Sand to pluck at will.

Sand actually didn't know many ways to comfort people. If it were Ray, he would pick a vinyl record for him, hold his hand and have a drink together, and eventually end up in bed; or he might make some food for Ray, take him out for a walk anywhere, and then find a place to roll around in bed. Generally speaking, sex was the most effective way Sand knew to comfort Ray.

Sand wasn't quite sure what he could do for First.

He tentatively leaned in, starting with First's trembling eyelids. His kisses were as light as butterfly wings, brushing against First's damp eyelashes, then landing on his forehead, temple, cheek, nose tip, and finally stopping at the center of his lips.

"Is this okay?" Sand asked, his lips pressed against First's upper lip. He could feel First's warm breath against their faces, the quick rhythm betraying his inner turmoil despite his outward composure.

First nodded dazedly, giving Sand a peck as an answer. Sand responded with a series of pecks, kissing every part of his lips—the upper, lower, and corners. First, perhaps feeling a bit ticklish, giggled and leaned back, but Sand seized the moment to slip his tongue into First's parted lips. First stiffened for a moment before relaxing, allowing Sand to explore his mouth freely. His kissing skills weren't bad; in fact, they could be considered proficient.

"Of course," Sand thought to himself as their tongues intertwined, "no matter how inexperienced he looks, with a face like this, it's impossible not to be popular."

Even as he kissed First, Sand couldn't help but feel a bit self-absorbed.

---

This might have been the most extraordinary kiss Sand had ever experienced. Even though he knew the other person was another version of himself, it was hard to completely overlap First's image with his own. First's body was familiar—everything from the texture of his skin, body temperature, to his scent made Sand feel incredibly at ease and comfortable. Yet, every subconscious bodily reaction from First was new to Sand. The frequency and intensity of his sucking, the angle of his neck, the way he licked his teeth, were all different from Sand. The cat-like whimper First made when Sand's tongue pressed against his palate was a sound Sand had never heard before.

"So, my body can be this fun..."

The mischievous part of Sand was almost completely activated by this new version of himself.

---

This might have been the most extraordinary kiss First had ever experienced. He trusted Sand completely, knowing without a doubt that he would never be harmed by him. Despite having kissed many people in his acting career, Sand was the first person he felt entirely comfortable kissing, besides Khaotung.

...It was even more comfortable than kissing Khaotung. Khaotung's kisses were like vanilla-flavored pop rocks, sweet and painful, causing First's heart to overload. Sand's kisses were like warm clouds and the ocean, gently undulating, wrapping his heart in layers of safety and security.

---

First took a step forward on his own. He slipped his hand under Sand's T-shirt from behind, aimlessly caressing the beautiful muscles Sand had sculpted by hitting the gym three times a week for his role. These lines felt familiarly strange to him; he had never imagined he would have the chance to touch his own back muscles. Since wrapping up the shoot months ago, he had been too lazy to keep up with the gym, and those lines had mostly faded from his body.

"Wonderful..." First laughed with a small, excited, and mischievous smile.

Sand patted the round back of the head resting against his neck, discovering that his own hair whorl spun clockwise. He couldn't help but laugh, "It feels strange to hug myself."

"But I like it," First said, slumping slightly to appear a bit shorter than Sand. He looked up at Sand, expressing his happiness from his eyebrows to his toes, "Do you like it, Sand?"

Sand's mouth couldn't help but curve into a smile, "I like it too."

"So... can I have more?"

---

At this moment, Sand had no idea that the bold First didn't have the ability to lead a satisfying sexual encounter.

"I like being licked here," Sand's tongue flicked behind First's ear over the thin skin, "Do you?"

"Uh... I don't know..."

Even though he said he didn't know, First had already melted into a puddle.

"Don't know? How about here?" Sand focused his attention on the small hollow between First's collarbones.

First squeezed his eyes shut in embarrassment, his eardrums echoing with the sound of his heart about to burst from his chest.

"You're turning so red." Sand teased, rubbing First's flushed nipple, "I didn't know I turned this red during sex. Did anyone ever tell you your here and here get especially red?"

First was too ashamed to open his eyes, "I really don't know... First has never done it with anyone."

Sand was shocked and paused, his fingers leaving the other's body.

First finally opened his eyes. He sniffed, aggrieved, and clung to Sand, limp and dejected.

"...It's so embarrassing," he muttered into Sand's shoulder, "Do you not want to do it with a block of wood who knows nothing..."

"How could you be a block of wood when you're this soft," Sand cupped First's face, studying it from side to side, "What a waste."

First immediately understood. He stammered shyly, "I don't want random people touching me..."

Sand squinted, about to let go.

"...But you can!"

"But I can?"

"Yes, you can." First's eyes reddened, his voice dreamlike, "Maybe... I've been waiting for you..."

Sand kissed him deeply again.

[You're not waiting for me. But it's okay, everything First wants, I can teach you.]

---

Sand unbuttoned First's pajama top one by one, then removed his own T-shirt, followed by First's pajama pants, his own shorts, First's underwear... alternating carefully like performing a ritual until they were both naked. Before they began, he grabbed First's left wrist and pressed a kiss to the inside, then enveloped his whole upper body into his arms and lay down on the bed.

"Your neck is sensitive, but ticklish and easily hurt, so I have to be very gentle." Sand lightly nibbled at First's Adam's apple with his canine teeth, raising goosebumps all over First. First let out a short cry and shrugged his shoulders.

"Don't be afraid, I'll be very gentle."

Sand soothed the freshly bitten spot with his tongue, his arm encircling First's back. His fingers slowly crawled up each vertebra until they firmly massaged the hollow at the base of his neck. First suddenly held his breath, feeling a current crackle along the path the fingers had traced.

"How..."

"Shh, don't rush. Here, you like it a bit rougher." Sand's hands moved to his chest, cupping and kneading the nipples firmly. At first, First didn't feel anything special, but Sand patiently kept at it. Gradually, a different kind of pleasure, unlike stimulating his lower body, spread through him like a tide, transforming into a warm stream filling his chest. Sand watched First's enraptured expression with satisfaction and slowly released his hold.

"Don't stop..." First grabbed those magical hands, looking at Sand with pleading eyes.

Sand clasped his fingers around First's, their palms pressed together, "I need to help you find more pleasure now. You can handle this yourself."

First hesitated, embarrassed and motionless.

Sand guided First's hand to move along with his own, lowering his head to nuzzle First's cheek affectionately, "Trust me, your hand is just like mine."

Convinced by this, First let go of his deep-seated burden and began to slowly move his hand, squeezing his chest.

"You're doing great," Sand gave him an encouraging kiss, "First, you're really sexy."

Under Sand's hypnotic praise, First gradually opened up his body, blossoming like a flower.

---

In this wonderful spring dream, First experienced his first time.

Sand was such a perfect partner for this first experience that First felt like crying several times. It was like being led by a reliable guide through a fog-filled forest. Previously, this forest was a vast, muddy labyrinth for him, full of lonely black holes and traps. He could only follow the shortest path he had explored on his own, repeating the journey in solitude and monotony.

But Sand held his hand, moving lightly yet firmly through the forest, showing him hidden treasures in the fog, one after another.

Not only that, but Sand's hot body pressed against him at all times made him truly understand why the act of sex is called "making love".

Chapter Text

Once again opening his eyes, the apartment appeared as usual. In the distance, the faint hum of motorcycles weaving through traffic echoed from the street market. The pale blue light of dawn was neatly segmented by the blinds, casting regular geometric patterns at the foot of the bed.

Feeling refreshed, First's pajamas were immaculate. There were no traces left from the previous night's tenderness. Lost in thought, First sat on the bed, dazed, until his manager called to confirm his upcoming Japan itinerary.

"P'Som... I know this might put you in a difficult spot, and it's late to change reservations, but... could you try to book an additional room? I want to sleep separately from Khaotung."

"It's not that... we didn't fight. It's just a privacy issue. I still want my own space... Oh, if it's a problem for the budget company, I can cover the difference myself."

After hanging up, First rubbed his hair in frustration. He tried to recall every scene from his dream, but the more he tried, the more the images slipped away. Memories began to embellish themselves. Unwilling for the memory of Sand in his dream to be altered, First forcibly terminated his reminiscence, leaving only a vague sense of sweet palpitations.

***

Khaotung learned about the room change while on the plane. His face turned pale, and ignoring his manager, he grabbed First's arm tightly, demanding an explanation.

"Don't overthink it, my friend. It's not because I mind you flooding the bathroom or that I want to distance myself," First said, choosing his words carefully, half true and half false. "It's just awkward to be a third wheel when you're on the phone with your girlfriend."

"I can just text her instead of calling!" Khaotung clearly didn't accept this reason, still gripping First's arm unwilling to back down.

"But... what if I need to talk to girls on the phone?" First looked troubled.

Khaotung's face flushed red and then turned pale, speechless for a moment. He huffed at First, who nonchalantly took out his Switch to play, then turned to him and asked, "Want to join?"

"No!" Khaotung replied quickly, looking aggrieved, staring fixedly at First. "I asked Mint, you haven't made plans with her again."

First sighed, reluctantly putting down his game console and focusing on soothing his friend.

"It's not Mint. It's still uncertain. If something happens, I'll let you know first."

"Who is it? Huh? Who is it?" Khaotung immediately leaned forward with a curious expression. "Do I know her? Should I help you pursue her?"

First helplessly pressed Khaotung's face, which was about to lean on his nose, and pushed it back. "No, don't. You always end up making things worse."

Khaotung pouted and stared straight into First's eyes, as if trying to gauge the truth in his words. First, feeling mentally scattered, ignored his friend's suspicious gaze.

"Hmph, okay then. Just let me know first, like you said," Khaotung said, dejectedly admitting defeat. First quietly breathed a sigh of relief.

"So, are you going to play games now?"

"Forget it, I want to read a book."

Khaotung pulled out the English book he had been carrying in his bag for eight months but hadn't finished reading three pages of. For the first time, he started reading. First found his friend's attempt to disguise his emotions cute, pretending to play games seriously while sneakily observing Khaotung out of the corner of his eye.

Sure enough, Khaotung lingered on the same page for a long time, then tilted his head and leaned it on First's shoulder.

"Did you fall asleep?" First asked softly.

Khaotung just nuzzled against First's neck, found a comfortable position, and didn't move. First immediately sneakily pulled out his phone, took a selfie, and captured his lover's sleeping face as well.

***

After a lively dinner with everyone, First and Khaotung exchanged goodnight wishes in the corridor. Khaotung had an obvious look of wanting to say something but holding back. First, unwilling to digress, swiftly swiped his room key, entered, and closed the door.

It was the first time they had decided to sleep in separate rooms while traveling together.

If they were staying together, as soon as Khaotung entered the room, he would kick off his shoes and slump onto the sofa, lazily watching as First read through the check-in instructions, turned on the TV, searched for slippers, and boiled water... He would maintain the same posture without moving until First emerged from the bathroom drying his hair. Then, First would fuss over Khaotung like a concerned mother, making sure to charge his phone and urging him to wash up. Khaotung's shower was quick, and First would sit on the bed with wet hair, waiting for him to help dry it. 

The evening wasn't always about gaming. Khaotung insisted on certain inexplicable rituals in life, such as playing shooter games online when they were apart and playing storyline games together in the same space. Playing games while traveling wasn't as interesting as at home, especially during trips abroad. He was curious about TV programs from different countries; even if he didn't understand the languages at all, he could curl up in First's arms and watch them with great interest all night long.

---

Those sweet moments felt like invisible hands choking First, leaving him breathless. His memories halted at the scene of Khaotung in a Taipei hotel bathroom, spending half an hour on a video call with his new girlfriend with big eyes.

What was he doing in the room next door at this moment? Without First's reminders, could he find the TV guide? Would he remember to charge his phone? Perhaps he was already indulging in affectionate banter with his girlfriend?

First looked around the unfamiliar room, feeling a bit eerie. Japan was much colder than Thailand. He grabbed the remote and cranked up the air conditioning to the highest setting before stepping into the shower.

Just as he lathered up with foam, faint knocking echoed down the hallway. First turned off the water, listening intently. The knocking ceased, replaced by Khaotung's distinctive ringtone on his phone. First assumed it was nothing urgent and decided to finish his shower before calling back. However, the phone and knocking persisted relentlessly, as if insisting that First open the door no matter what.

Hurriedly wiping off the suds, First wrapped a towel around his waist and dashed to the door.

"Ai Tung... We've only been apart for five minutes! It better be something urgent, or I'll be angry!"

Trying to conceal a hint of joy in his heart, First feigned impatience and pointed at the trail of water spots on the floor, expressing his displeasure to his friend.

Khaotung's face seemed even less pleased than his own. "I've finished the call."

"...Huh?"

Khaotung brushed away the hand of his dumbfounded friend on the door handle, and, taking advantage of his smaller stature, smoothly squeezed into the room. "You boiled some water, right? I'm here to borrow some for instant noodles."

First stood there, mouth half-open in dumbfounded amazement, watching Khaotung strut confidently over to the bed and flop down on it in a sprawled-out manner.

"Right after dinner, and you're making noodles? Wait, weren't you having instant noodles? And why are you lying on my bed??" First exclaimed, baffled.

Khaotung closed his eyes and playfully protested, "Just let me lie down for a bit, don't be so stingy."

First, with a head full of questions, ignored the water stains on the floor and nudged his friend forward. "Feeling down? Did you have a fight with your girlfriend?"

"Why do you keep bringing her up? What's it to you..." Khaotung lifted his eyelids briefly, glancing at First's lower half. "You go finish your shower first," he added.

Blushing, First covered himself with the towel and hurried back into the bathroom.

When First came out again, Khaotung seemed to have forgotten about the instant noodles. He calmly sat on the edge of the bed, holding a hairdryer. As soon as he saw First's wet hair dripping, he patted the bedding, beckoning him over.

First instinctively felt something amiss, standing still in front of the bathroom. "Instant noodles..."

"Forget about it, I'm not that hungry anyway. You're right, who eats instant noodles right after dinner?"

"So why don't you go back..."

"I don't want to go back," Khaotung used a pitiful gaze to coax First, "I feel like there's something in my room, I'm scared. I want to move in and sleep with you."

"You’re kidding!" Suddenly, First felt a chill down his spine. "You should tell P'Som about this and ask for a room change!"

As he spoke, he walked towards the tea table, reaching for his phone. Khaotung quickly jumped up from the bed, grabbing First and pulling him over. "No no no! Don't bother P'Som! I just don't dare to sleep alone, don't let others know I'm scared, or they'll laugh at me in the future!"

"..." First leaned on the edge of the bed, half-pressed against Khaotung. This cunning guy didn't look like someone afraid of being laughed at, blinking innocently without any burden.

"Be honest, my friend, I'm not that stupid. Be honest and I'll let you stay."

"Be honest and I can stay?" Khaotung's eyes immediately lit up. "I'm lonely. Honestly."

First's expression was dimmed. If time could rewind a year ago, perhaps he would have been ecstatic about this answer; if it rewound two years ago, he might have felt embarrassed and unsure. If it rewound three years ago, he might have even interpreted this statement as some kind of hint, giving rise to many unrealistic fantasies.

Three years ago, Khaotung started dating girls. Two years ago, Khaotung broke up with his first girlfriend, and after a brief single period, he had another dating partner. A year ago, Khaotung not only changed his dating partner but also attempted to introduce girls to First. First had learned to accept soberly that he could never be Khaotung's lover, and he had also learned to tune out Khaotung's casual, seemingly ambiguous teasing words.

["Lonely," not "I miss you." "I need company," not "I need you to accompany me."]

First silently crawled off his friend and sat on the other side of the bed, obediently lowering his head.

"Go ahead, blow dry."

The room now felt warm and cozy. The hairdryer's white noise filled the awkward silence, while the warm air gently brushed over First's hair, carried by Khaotung's soft fingertips. The rich scent of shampoo mixed with First's unique fragrance filled Khaotung's nostrils. The two of them tacitly avoided the topic of why Khaotung was there, focusing on enjoying this brief moment of warmth.

But once his hair was dry, the hairdryer stopped. The magic vanished.

First, feeling disappointed, kept his head down without moving, sensing Khaotung's hand still lingering delicately in his hair, as if caressing something fragile. 

First waited for him to speak.

"Firfir, I've been honest. Can I stay?"

Khaotung's voice was low and hoarse, tinged with a hint of pleasing, scratching at First's heart. He was on the verge of agreeing.

"I don't want to be a third wheel."

"You're not a third wheel," Khaotung wrapped his arms around First from behind, "I think you're more like avoiding me being a third wheel."

Only then did First remember he was supposed to be pursuing girls. It was as if he had found a lifeline to rescue himself from the tender illusion Khaotung had created. "Right, I still need to call the girl..."

Khaotung's grip tightened suddenly, twisting First's shoulder to force him to face him, his eyes filled with an unbearable sense of grievance.

"How far have you two gotten?"

"Huh?" First's mind crashed momentarily at the unexpected question.

"Why don't you like Mint?"

"Huh??" First's brain began to race, trying hard to recall scenes from that day on the streets with the girl, attempting to find the subtle clues as to why the relationship wasn't progressing.

"I don't think she likes me at all. She's been dropping hints about you all the time... Come to think of it, it was the same with the last one..."

Mint, the girl Khaotung introduced, though she hid it well, was clearly interested in them as a couple more than just First. One moment that stuck in First's memory was her disappointed expression when he suggested going on a date alone.

"I don't understand your female network at all. It's like, everyone's a shipper, and none of them actually want to date me. Are they really misunderstanding something between us?" First chuckled bitterly, trying to keep it light-hearted. "My friend, I think it's best we keep a bit of distance offstage, or I'll really start being seen as gay and won't ever get a girlfriend."

Khaotung blurted out angrily, "Are you blaming me? Blaming me for interfering and preventing you from getting a girlfriend? Before all this fan service, weren't you still not getting any girlfriends!"

Khaotung was referring to an incident from five years ago when the two had just met. At that time, First was exploring his sexuality, and when a classmate he had a vague interest in started dating someone else, he went online to flirt, unexpectedly developing an online relationship. Before their first meeting, First had proudly told Khaotung he was about to leave the single life behind, only to come back later that night with a gloomy face, seeking comfort, saying his online interest had dumped him for talking too much.

First hadn't expected this embarrassing old story to be brought up again, and blurted out in panic, "Yeah, fan service didn't stop you from getting a girlfriend, so it must be that I'm just not attractive enough!"

... As soon as the words left his mouth, both of them froze.

Suddenly, Khaotung's gaze filled with sadness, his voice soft and distant, "Let's not argue, Firfir... I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that."

First replied solemnly, "You didn't say anything wrong. It was me who said the wrong thing. I'm sorry."

"I mean it," Khaotung said, locking eyes with First who tried to evade his gaze. "Firfir is handsome, cute, and very attractive. If I were a girl, I would definitely fall for Firfir."

[And if you were a guy? Would you love me? Can't you love me as a guy?]

First, filled with bitter sweetness, continued to jest, "Really? If you fall for me, would you marry me?"

"I would. I'd marry Firfir, have children, and we'd be together forever."

First kept his head low, avoiding eye contact with Khaotung. He could sense Khaotung's breath closing in, gradually but oppressively, despite his diminutive stature. Khaotung’s hand, which had just brushed through his own hair, now touched First’s face, feeling slightly cool and warm at the same time.

First‘s voice escaped uncontrollably, "Save that joke for tomorrow's stage, my friend..."

Khaotung paid no heed to his feeble protest and continued advancing. His small shadow now loomed over First's face.

"Ding dong!"

The phone lying on the bedside suddenly lit up. Like a jolt from a dream, First pushed his friend away in a scramble to grab the phone, only to realize it was Khaotung's. 

The notification screen blinked with a glaring big-eyed avatar.

First thrust the phone back into Khaotung's hand. "Hurry up and go marry your girlfriend, have kids, don't waste time here with me. Off you go, off you go~"

He forced a strained smile, too preoccupied to gauge Khaotung's reaction, and pushed and dragged him out of the room, slamming the door shut behind him.