Close Quarters
580 Words
The following week, Bangkok was swallowed by summer storms. Rain hammered rooftops, flooding streets, turning sidewalks into rivers. Aun hated this season. His secondhand shoes always leaked, and his motorbike sputtered in deep water.
Thursday afternoon, as students filed out under umbrellas and raincoats, Tae remained seated at his desk. Aun didn’t have to ask—he already knew.
“No driver today?” Aun asked, organizing papers with feigned indifference.
“Got into a fight with my dad,” Tae muttered, eyes fixed on the rain-streaked window. “He said I’m embarrassing the family.”
Aun glanced at him. “What did you do this time?”
“Refused to go to a business dinner. Told him I wasn’t his pet.”
Aun sighed. “You’re still a student. Maybe try surviving school before fighting the empire.”
Tae turned, a grin flickering. “Didn’t know you were into empires, Ajarn.”
Aun rolled his eyes. “I’m into getting you home before the next lightning strike.”
Tae stood, slinging his bag. “Ride me again?”
Aun choked. “Excuse me?”
Tae smirked. “On your bike.”
Aun’s face darkened. “Don’t say that so casually.”
“Why not? We’ve been close before.”
“Tae—”
The boy stepped in, close enough to make Aun’s breath hitch. He smelled like rain and spice, his voice a whisper.
“I like being close to you.”
Aun didn’t move. Couldn’t.
But then he did. He stepped back, quickly. “Get your bag. I’ll take you.”
---
The ride was silent at first. Rain poured around them, a curtain between them and the world. Tae’s arms wrapped around Aun’s waist, tight. Too tight. His cheek rested against Aun’s back.
Every touch buzzed through Aun’s skin. He tried to focus on the road. Failed.
At a red light, Tae’s voice cut through the rain. “You ever have someone touch you without wanting anything back?”
Aun tensed. “No one touches me.”
“I would,” Tae said. “If you let me.”
The light turned green.
Aun didn’t answer.
---
Tae’s house loomed like a palace behind its gates. Aun pulled up just outside.
“I’ll walk the rest,” Tae said, hopping off. He turned to Aun, water dripping down his temple. “Thanks.”
Aun nodded, keeping his eyes forward.
“You wanna come in?”
Aun snapped his head toward him. “Are you serious?”
Tae shrugged, but his voice was soft. “Just for coffee. I won’t bite. Unless you ask.”
Aun’s heartbeat was a drum. He shook his head. “I can’t.”
Tae’s smile didn’t falter. “I’ll ask again sometime.”
He disappeared through the gate.
Aun sat there, soaked to the bone, wondering how long he could pretend this wasn’t happening.
---
That night, Aun couldn’t sleep. Every time he closed his eyes, he felt Tae’s arms around him again.
His fingers tingled with the memory.
He hated himself for wanting more.
---
Friday afternoon, the storm returned. Aun canceled tutoring early. As he packed, he found something tucked between the pages of his poetry book.
A folded note.
“Next time you let me hold you, don’t pull away so fast. I like the way your back feels.
—T”
Aun stared at the paper for a long time.
Then tore it in half.
But the words stayed.
- Writer
