Cracks in the Glass
602 Words
The morning after the party, Aun woke in Tae’s bed.
Silk sheets. Warm skin. Sunlight filtering through tall windows.
And reality slamming into him like a truck.
Tae was asleep beside him, shirtless, lips slightly parted in that vulnerable way only sleep allowed. He looked peaceful. Young.
Too young, Aun’s conscience hissed.
Aun sat up quietly, gathering his clothes from the floor. Each movement felt like an act of betrayal—against his job, his morals, himself.
He didn’t wake Tae.
Didn’t leave a note.
Just left.
---
The following Monday, Tae was quiet in class.
No smirks. No cocky glances. No whispered lines meant only for Aun.
He didn’t stay after, either.
Aun told himself it was for the best.
But when Tuesday passed the same way—and Wednesday—an ache settled in his chest.
Had he broken something?
Or saved them both?
---
That Thursday, the principal called Aun into her office.
“Aun, there’s something we need to discuss.” She folded her hands neatly on the desk. “It’s come to my attention that you’ve been seen giving a student—Thana Sirikarn—private rides home. Multiple times.”
His stomach dropped.
“And that you were present at his private birthday party this weekend.”
“I was invited.”
“As a teacher? Or as something else?”
He swallowed. “Just as a guest.”
The principal stared at him for a long moment. “I’m not accusing you of anything, Aun. But the optics are dangerous. Parents talk. This school survives on its reputation.”
“I understand.”
“I suggest you keep your distance from the Sirikarn boy from now on. For your own sake.”
Aun left the office with his legs like stone.
---
That evening, Tae waited for him outside the school.
He leaned against Aun’s bike like nothing had changed.
“I didn’t think you’d talk to me,” Aun said quietly.
Tae looked at him, eyes unreadable. “I thought if I gave you space, you’d come back.”
“I shouldn’t have come that night.”
“You did.”
“I shouldn’t have stayed.”
“You did.”
Aun ran a hand through his hair. “They know. Or they suspect. My job is at risk.”
“I didn’t tell anyone,” Tae said, voice suddenly sharp.
“I know.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
“You’re the problem, Tae,” Aun snapped. “You make me forget who I am. What I could lose.”
Tae flinched like he’d been slapped.
For a long moment, neither of them said a word.
Then Tae’s jaw set. “You know what I think?”
Aun didn’t respond.
“I think you’re scared because this isn’t just about s*x anymore.”
“It was never just sex.”
“Exactly.” Tae stepped forward, his voice low. “So stop pretending like it meant nothing.”
“I’m not pretending.”
“You’re hiding.”
Silence again. Heavy. Charged.
Finally, Aun whispered, “I’m not brave like you.”
Tae’s voice softened. “Then let me be brave for both of us.”
Aun looked away. “I need time.”
Tae nodded. “I’ll wait. But not forever.”
---
That night, Aun sat alone on his rooftop, the city lights flickering below.
He remembered the way Tae’s hands had touched him—not possessive, not forceful.
Just there.
Like Aun was something worth holding onto.
For the first time in years, he wondered if maybe he could be.
- Writer
