Lines in the Sand
596 Words
Whispers travel faster than the wind in a private school.
By Monday morning, something had shifted in the air. Aun could feel it before he even stepped into class. The way the students went quiet as he entered. The way glances darted toward the back of the room—toward Tae.
Tae, who sat with a crooked smile like he knew something. Like he started it.
Aun kept his expression neutral and went on with the lesson.
But at the end of class, a girl from the front row approached his desk, her eyes too bright with feigned innocence.
“Ajarn,” she said sweetly. “Are we allowed to have private tutoring with you outside school too, or is that reserved for... special students?”
He froze.
“Excuse me?”
She blinked. “Oh, I just meant... I heard you and Thana go home together sometimes. On your bike.”
A few students nearby snorted, murmuring. Aun didn’t respond. Couldn’t.
Tae stood up, slowly, voice calm but biting. “You got something to say, Mali?”
The girl blinked, thrown off. “I didn’t—”
“Good. Then shut up.” Tae turned to Aun. “I’ll see you after school, Ajarn.”
And just like that, he walked out.
---
The teacher’s lounge was cold and sterile. Aun gripped his tea cup like it might ground him.
He felt exposed. One careless whisper could undo everything.
Worse—part of him didn’t want to stop.
---
Tae didn’t come to tutoring that afternoon.
Aun stayed late anyway, pretending to work. At 5:43 PM, the classroom door creaked open.
“I almost didn’t come,” Tae said, stepping in.
“I thought you weren’t.”
“I wasn’t. Then I thought about how much I’d regret it.”
Aun leaned back in his chair. “Rumors are already starting. If anyone finds out—”
“I don’t care,” Tae cut him off. “Let them talk.”
“Well, I care,” Aun said sharply. “I’m your teacher.”
“And I’m your student.” Tae stepped closer. “Not a child. Not stupid. And not scared of what this is.”
Aun stood, trying to create space. “You don’t understand what’s at stake.”
Tae moved again, cornering him between the desk and the wall. “I understand you want me.”
Aun’s breath hitched.
“You shouldn’t say that.”
“But it’s true.” Tae’s voice dropped. “You think I don’t see how you look at me?”
He was too close. Too warm. The air between them buzzed.
Aun’s fists clenched at his sides. “Don’t cross this line.”
“I already did.”
And then Tae kissed him.
It was fierce, defiant—more teeth than tongue at first. A battle, not a plea.
Aun froze, hands on Tae’s shoulders, ready to push him away.
But he didn’t.
Instead, he kissed back.
Just for a second.
Just long enough to feel how badly he wanted this—how long it had been since someone touched him like he mattered.
When he finally did pull away, his breath was ragged. Tae’s eyes were wild.
“That was a mistake,” Aun whispered.
“I’m not sorry,” Tae said.
“I am.”
But his lips still burned from the taste of him.
---
That night, Aun paced his apartment. Thunder rolled outside, echoing his heartbeat.
What he did was wrong.
But what scared him more—was how right it had felt.
- Writer
