And then, you

Chief Phupha’s life changes on a perfectly normal Friday.

”Come in, Eagle. We have a… ah, situation.”

Phupha frowns at the radio. Yod’s voice sounds odd through the static and he can’t be quite sure if he’s serious or trying to hold back giggles. ”What kind of a situation?”

”We found someone,” Yod says without a trace of humor and rattles the coordinates in a clipped tone. ”And Chief…He’s been hurt. Bad.” 

Shit. ”I’ll get Nam,” Phupha snaps as he grabs his pack and hurries to the clinic. 

It takes them thirty minutes by the jeep and then they’ll have to hike another fifteen to reach the spot where Yod and Rang are waiting. The drive is silent and tense, both Phupha and Nam way too familiar with what might have happened to waste time in idle chit-chat. Nam goes through his equipment with the meticulous, careful precision Phupha has seen many times over, the kind where he nods his head as he silently mouths everything he has in his bag and what they’re for. Saline solution for hydration, painkillers and sedatives for pain and panic, a space blanket and glucose for shock, splints and slings, needles and pincers and scissors and gloves. 

And, last but not least, a camera for documentation, small zip bags, and sterile swabs. A rape kit.

Phupha hopes they won’t need the latter but he’s had his run-ins with the darker side of human nature to rule the possibility out.

Rang is waiting for them when small tracks divide into even smaller, barely visible tracks. He’s gritting his teeth so hard Phupha can hear it and he has a white-knuckled grip on his rifle. ”Yod’s with him,” he says, a slightly wild look in his eyes.

Shit. This won’t be pretty.

Rang leads them along an almost nonexistent path and then veers off to the right to a hollow ditch and points. ”There,” he says.

Through the leaves, Phupha sees Yod raise a hand. His shirt is off. ”Good work, Rang,” Phupha says without taking his eyes off Yod. ”Stay here to keep watch.”

”Yes, Chief,” Rang says. He doesn’t even try to cover his relief.

Phupha shares a grim look with Nam and then starts forward.

”Chief,” Yod calls out. ”He’s here,” he says, nodding to his side. ”I covered him with my shirt but it’s not much.”

He is a young man, long-limbed and skinny. He has pale skin that seems to almost shine in the filtered light that seeps through the thick foliage but it’s marred by the ugly bruises around his body. His wrists are chafed raw and that’s definitely a handprint around his throat. One scabbed-over needle puncture in the crook of his left elbow. Something that looks like cigarette burns on his chest. 

”Fuck,” Nam swears under his breath. ”Phu, hold my bag.”

There’s something cold and clinical in Nam’s expression as he takes out his camera and starts taking pictures, instructing Yod where to point his flashlight to better document the damages. Phupha swallows and averts his eyes, focusing on the surrounding area for possible clues. Most likely there will be none—all of this looks like the work of someone who knew how to not leave little to no traces.

”Phu,” Nam says quietly. ”Help me turn him.”

Without a word, Phupha hands Nam’s bag to Yod and crouches on the man’s other side. 

”Gloves,” Nam says.

He nods and snaps them on before carefully turning the man. His skin is cold and clammy through the thin latex and Phupha can see the thready jump of his jugular as the vein stretches under the nearly translucent skin. Nam takes a photo of his exposed back and then sets the camera aside, takes a swab, and wipes it between the man’s buttocks.

Phupha opens his mouth—

Nam sighs. ”You know why I had to do that,” he says in a low voice as he bags the swab. ”And you know why I had to do it here.” He looks at Yod. ”The space blanket, please. It’s on the side compartment.”

With Yod’s help, Nam quickly spreads the space blanket on the ground and nods at Phupha who carefully lowers the man on the blanket. The movement lolls his head to a spot of soft light, illuminating the swollen eyes, split lip, and clearly broken nose. 

At least he isn’t bleeding from his ears. Thank fuck for small mercies.

Nam palpates the man’s stomach quickly before wrapping the space blanket fully around the man and holds a finger against his jugular. ”What the hell…?” he mutters.

”What?”

Nam shakes his head. ”I don’t know. His heart rate is erratic but it might just as well be due to his abuse or his low temperature. There doesn’t seem to be any massive internal injuries but that’s about what I can say here. We need to get him to the clinic ASAP. Can you carry him?”

Phupha nods and shifts slightly, teases his arms under the man, and gently lifts him up. He’s way lighter than he looks and something clenches tight in his chest. With Nam’s help, he adjusts his hold and makes sure the blanket covers everything as well as possible, and then they’re off.

”We’ll stay back and check the perimeter,” Yod says, his voice muffled as he wrangles his shirt back on. ”Radio us if you want us to do something more.”

”Yeah,” Phupha says without turning his head.

The walk back to the car goes by as a blur, with Nam leading the way and shooting worried looks over his shoulder and Phupha trying not to jostle the man too much. Up close, he smells like blood and vomit and his hair is a tangled, matted mess. His left earlobe is bloody—it looks like someone ripped an earring off with force.

Phupha doesn’t like the way his breathing sounds.

During the drive back, Phupha keeps glancing through the rearview mirror at the back of the jeep as Nam hunches over the man. He has Phupha’s radio on his ear and he gives a rapid report to someone at the ranger base to relay to the nurse at his clinic. There’s nothing Phupha actually can do but concentrate on his driving, so he grits his teeth and grips the steering wheel, trying to make the ride as smooth as possible through the sheer force of his will.

Human trafficking isn’t unheard of around here but it’s definitely uncommon. Usually, his unit mostly deals with endangered species smugglers or illegal logging, and so far Phupha’s never heard of Mr. Sakda getting involved with human prey. He doesn’t seem the type—although Phupha really can’t say what said type would be.

Nam could probably guess but Nam would also absolutely loathe the question. ”That was a vile time in my life,” he’d once slurred, close to passing out. ”The scope of human cruelty never ceases to shock me.”

That one drunken night was the only time Phupha asked his friend about his internship in the Southeast—Nam never told him the exact location—and what still gave him nightmares. Volunteering is an integral part of Nam’s kind soul but it means he also came in contact with the poor and disadvantaged people. And poor people are hopeless people, and hopeless people are easy to exploit.

Nam’s violent swearing interrupts his thoughts. ”What?” he barks, tensing in his seat.

”They burned his fingertips,” Nam hisses. ”To erase his fingerprints.”

”Who the hell is he?” Phupha wonders.

”Someone who needs a way better hospital than what we have to offer,” Nam says darkly. ”The town hospital is full and I don’t think we could get him to Chiang Mai without a helicopter. But with no ID and no fingerprints…”

Phupha grunts. The downside of living up in the North in a remote area like Phapundao is that healthcare is very basic. The rangers know what they’ll be facing even before they complete their training but he’s pretty sure the young man never chose to end up in the forest of the national park right next to the border.

”How is he?” he asks and glances at the rearview mirror again.

”Alive,” Nam says tightly. ”For now.”

When they finally make it to the clinic, Nam’s nurse, Chiraphon, is waiting for them. Phupha carries their patient in and sets him on the examination table as carefully as he could, even though the unconscious man doesn’t even stir. Then he backs out of the way and lets Nam and Chiraphon work. He doesn’t especially want to be in the room but since he’s the Chief Officer of Phapirun Base, it’s his duty to observe. 

Nam and Chiraphon work quietly and efficiently, moving around each other with calm familiarity. They draw blood, check his vitals, take an ECG, clean his wounds, and finally wipe him clean before dressing him in a worn hospital gown Nam digs up from somewhere and wrapping him in a blanket. Finally, they insert an IV line and start a drip.

”That’s pretty much it,” Nam says, rubbing a tired hand over his face. ”I don’t like this. I don’t like this at all but it’s all we can do.” He slumps into his chair and leans his head back. ”There’s something really wrong with his heart but I have no clue what, if it’s congenital or something inflicted by his abuse.”

”Oh?” Phupha says and hands him a bottle of water.

Nam takes the bottle with an exhausted smile and drinks half of it right away. ”Yeah. The ECG shows signs of ongoing and-slash-or past heart attack and his pulse is all over the place. But without an extended monitoring or an MRI...” His voice trails away and he shrugs. 

Phupha looks at the man on the bed. He’s completely still and if it wasn’t for the barely perceptible rising of his chest, he could just as well be a corpse. It sends a shiver down his spine.

”He’s slightly anemic, his CRP is elevated—no surprise there—and he’s probably developing pneumonia. I couldn’t detect any internal bleeding but again, I have limited resources here. He has no broken extremities but his left pinkie dislocated and I think he has fractured ribs. But hey, at least he wasn’t raped, yay.” He lets out a frustrated breath and mutters, ”Sometimes I hate people.”

Phupha silently agrees.

That night, their patient develops a fever and seizes up.

Phupha is staying the night with Nam, both to keep an eye on the man and to support his friend. Nam sends Chiraphon  home for the weekend even though she protests (”Phon, just get out of here. Your contract doesn’t obligate you to work yet another weekend. If there’s a catastrophe, I’ll call you, okay?”), and then sets out to brew a giant pot of coffee for himself and Phupha. 

Neither of them feel like eating.

They sit side by side at Nam’s desk writing their respective reports and despite the chilling circumstances, it reminds Phupha of the time shortly after Nam arrived at Phapundao. There’s something infinitely comforting in sitting next to a friend who knows you and with whom silence isn’t a threat. 

He’s filling in the location information and drops his pen when the patient lets out a strangled sound and starts to twitch. 

”Shit!” Nam yelps and grabs the thermometer. ”Turn him into his side and make sure he doesn’t fall from the table!” The thermometer beeps and Nam swears again. ”39,8°C, shit, fuck. We need to get his temperature down.”

Phupha yanks the blankets off from the trashing body and tries to be as gentle as possible as he struggles to keep  him on his side. ”Can you give him anything?” he asks over his shoulder.

”I don’t have any IV paracetamol,” Nam says tightly. ”And since he’s unconscious, I can’t give him any pills. Shit. I have cold gel and ice packs, they’ll have to do.”

It feels like it takes an eternity for the man to stop seizing and twitching but in reality, it’s only about five minutes. Phupha shares a look with Nam and then slowly slumps down on the floor, dropping his head against the wall with a thunk.

”If nothing else, I’m not tired anymore!” Nam says. ”Fucking hurrah.”

”What the hell was that?”

”Febrile seizure. More common in kids. Not epilepsy.” He lets out a long groan and from behind the exam table, Phupha sees he’s closed his eyes. 

”So…what next?”

Nam shrugs. ”Nothing much. We keep an eye on him and hope he wakes up so that we can have some answers.”

Phupha falls silent for a moment. ”What do you think happened to him?” he asks quietly.

”No clue. I’d like to say his fingertips mean he’s someone important but if he was a human trafficking victim, it might not mean anything. It might not mean anything anyway.”

Their patient is still on his side and his left hand with the dislocated pinkie slightly extended. From where Phupha is sitting, the swollen digit is right in front of his eyes. ”I think we need to be careful with this,” he says.

Nam’s clothes rustle as he scoots across the floor to peer at him. ”How so?”

Phupha shakes his head. ”I just… call it a gut feeling. I think we should keep a low profile and keep quiet about this. If he’s in trouble, posting his picture or asking about missing young men might put him at unnecessary risk.”

Nam purses his lips and nods slowly. ”Yeah…I have some contacts via Jaeb, I’ll ask her.”

They heave themselves up and clean up the warmed-up ice packs. Their patient’s temperature has gone down a notch and Phupha heaves an internal sigh of relief. The seizure had looked scary. ”Should we lift him on the floor just in case?” he asks. ”If he seizes again.”

”Highly unlikely but, yeah. That’s a good idea.”

Nam has a thin mattress he keeps in his clinic for the times he’s staying the night and he spreads it out on the floor, covers it with a clean sheet, and then waits as Phupha transfers the patient to it. ”The floor level is also a bit cooler,” he mutters as he covers him with a blanket. ”Get some sleep, if you can. I’ll keep watch.”

”Yeah,” Phupha says and grunts as he lowers himself on the floor. ”You mind if I snore?”

”Nah,” Nam says. 

The last thing Phupha sees before he drifts off is Nam’s frown as he places his finger on the bruised skin of his patient’s throat.

”Oh,” Torfun gasps as she opens the door. ”Yod said it was bad but—” She stands at the door, eyes wide and a hand pressed to her mouth. 

”Torfun?” Phupha asks blinking against the dim morning light. ”Not that I’m not glad to see you but what are you doing here?”

She stares a moment longer, then blinks several times and shakes her head. ”Oh, yes. I saw Yod and Rang yesterday and they were badly shaken. I asked them what had happened and they told me they found someone in the woods.” She takes a hesitant step forward. ”Chief—is he alive?”

”He was about ten minutes ago when I last checked,” Nam says, walking in. ”Coffee? I think I made enough for both of us, but that depends on how sleep deprived you feel today, Torfun.”

She smiles. ”Go ahead, you probably need it more than I do,” she says. ”Actually, I came over to bring you some supplies. I talked to Khama and he directed me to a granny who makes the traditional salves and poultices.” She rummages her bag and hands Nam a couple of clay jars. ”Something for the bruises and something for the aching lungs. Her words, not mine.”

Nam hums and opens one jar, takes a sniff, and promptly sneezes. ”Smells about right,” he says and blinks to clear his vision, and then he shoves the jars at Phupha.

He looks at the jars and then at Nam. ”What—”

”The yellow is for the bruises and the brown is for the lungs,” Nam says.

”Yes, but—”

”I can do it,” Torfun says with a small smile and takes the jars back. ”If you can help move him, Chief?”

Nam stops and turns to give her a look. ”Are you sure?” he asks. ”He’s been beaten up. Badly.”

Torfun visibly holds back an eye roll. ”While you treating me like a fragile damsel is cute, you forget where I volunteered before coming to Phapundao,” she says dryly. ”I’ve seen bad and worse.”

Oh. Right.

He turns the man gently as Torfun opens the gown from the backside and spreads the yellow paste on their patient’s back. He twitches slightly in Phupha’s hold but doesn’t otherwise react, although Torfun has to apply a little bit of pressure to spread the paste evenly.

As they work, Phupha sneaks a look at Torfun. She looks calm but her lips are pressed together and there’s a pinched look in her eyes, and Phupha wonders how many cases like this she’s seen. Back when she arrived almost two years ago, she told him and Nam that she used to volunteer at a safe house and while she worked more with kids, she saw her fill of abused people.

”Chief?” she says.

He shakes his head. ”Sorry, I was. It’s been a long day.”

”Yeah. Could you lift up his gown for me?”

She moves the blanket to cover the man’s groin as Phupha holds up the gown, and then she scoops up a handful of the dark, pungent-smelling poultice, spreading a thick layer on the man’s chest. It’s turned a darker shade of purple overnight, making Phupha swallow. 

He knows how bruises like that feel like.

Torfun spreads a piece of coarse fabric on top of the poultice (to either keep it in place or shield the gown from stains, Phupha doesn’t know) and then she nods at Phupha. Carefully, they tuck the man in again and Torfun takes off her gloves with a small sigh.

”My office is going to smell like that for weeks,” Nam says and hands them both a mug. ”Which is an observation, not a complaint. At least I’ll breathe easier.”

Phupha sits back down on the floor and takes a sip of his coffee. It’s ridiculously strong because that’s how Nam likes it, and the sharp bitterness washes away some of the bile in the back of his throat. He feels like he needs a nap, a bath, a strong drink, and a bucket of food, and not necessarily in that order.

”Do you know who he is?” Torfun asks after a moment of silence.

”No,” Nam says with a sigh. ”We don’t know who he is or where he’s from. He has no tattoos, no jewelry, and no clothes. The only oddity about him is his heart but that won’t help us much.”

”Fingerprints?” Torfun asks.

Nam grimaces. ”Burned. Dental chart might help but for that, we’d need to get them in the first place and he’s in no condition to be moved right now.”

”And we decided to keep it down,” Phupha adds.

”And there’s that,” Nam agrees.

Torfun gives them an incredulous look ”You—what? Why?”

Nam rubs a hand over his face. ”He fits the profile of a human trafficking victim but we can’t be sure and there’s really nothing we can say for sure until he wakes up. But someone made very sure to drop him in the middle of nowhere with no traces and no way to identify him. The kid’s in a load of trouble already.”

”Oh,” Torfun says slowly. ”So…no posters in the city, either?”

”No posters in the city,” Phupha says.

”Shit.”

She never swears so to hear her do that now surprises a huff out of Phupha. When she raises a brow, he shakes his head and leans it back to the wall, and closes his eyes.

”When was the last time either of you took a break?” she asks. ”And I don’t mean a bathroom break.”

Nam gives her an amused look. ”Are you throwing me out of my own clinic?”

She shrugs. ”I’m just asking. But seriously: it’s Saturday, the school is closed, and I have free time. I can stay and watch him.”

Phupha raises a brow. ”Your patient, your call,” he says.

Nam lets out a long breath. ”I could use a shower and a nap somewhere that isn’t my clinic floor,” he says. ”If you’re really sure…?”

”Yes, I’m sure,” Torfun says. ”I can do my lesson plans for next week anywhere. And I’ll call you both if he wakes up, okay?”

Nam bites his lip. ”Okay,” he says, nods, and starts to gather his stuff. ”He should be stable enough. I just changed the IV bag so you don’t have to worry about that.”

Phupha tunes Nam out as he slowly pushes himself up. He aches all over and his clothes have the gritty feeling of crawling around in the bush and then sleeping in them which, well, is pretty much what happened. The young man looks peaceful enough bundled up in the blankets, and if it wasn’t for the ugly bruises, one would think he was just asleep. 

Leaving him feels strangely like letting him down.

He declines Nam’s offer for a ride and decides to jog back to the base instead. It’s still early and not unbearably hot, and light exercise will do him good after the adrenaline-fuelled 24 hours he just had. He lets the repetitive motion clear his mind and takes in the sounds of the woods around him. After living his whole life around these parts, it’s the familiar soundtrack of his life, the music he holds most dear to his heart. He loves the forests he’s given his oath to protect and it never ceases to make him angry how some people fail to see the beauty and choose to exploit and rob it instead. Money has never held that much value to him, even though he recognizes its importance. Money, after all, is what gives him and his fellow rangers the chance to do their work.

And money is what makes people do ugly, ugly things. To nature and to other people.

He uses the time to compose a report of yesterday’s events in his head. Yod and Rang will have written their own accounts but it’s up to him to write the official paper, especially in what could be a high-profile case like this. He knows he needs to inform his higher-ups but he also knows that Mr. Sakda has bribed his way up the chain of command. If he has something to do with the unconscious young man, reporting it would most likely put him in even greater danger than he already is.

So. He needs to come up with a way to say they rescued someone without actually telling anything that might draw more attention to him. He probably needs to ask Torfun’s help with how to word that particular part.

But what should he do about the young man himself? If he really is in as much trouble as he and Nam think he is, where should he stay? Where would he be safe? Something about him makes Phupha feel protective but that’s understandable—he’s clearly younger than Phupha and he’s been hurt. The need to protect vulnerable things is an integral part of his character.

When he reaches the ranger base, Yod and Rang are sitting at the table with coffee mugs in front of them. 

”Chief!” Yod exclaims, jerking up with a solemn look on his face. ”How is he? Is he alive?”

”He was alive and sleeping when I left,” he says. ”Torfun kicked me and Nam out. She’s with him now.” He doesn’t mention the seizure—there’s no point to make them even more anxious than they already are. ”How are you holding up?”

Yod shakes his head slowly. ”It’s…I know there are people who like to hurt other people. Of course there are. But. We’re supposed to deal with log smugglers?”

”Yeah,” Phupha says. He ducks his head slightly and grips Rang’s shoulder. ”Rang?”

The young ranger looks up at him with a lost look in his eyes. ”I threw up last night,” he says quietly. ”I’ve never seen a body before.”

”He’s not dead,” Yod says.

”But he looked dead!” Rang shoots back and then curls into himself. ”Sorry.”

Phupha lets out a long breath. ”No, that’s… I know how you feel, it made me feel sick, too.”

Rang nods into his coffee mug but doesn’t say anything.

”Look. I’ve been up most of the night and I—” he pauses to yawn, his exhaustion finally catching up with him. ”I’m going to wash up and then take a nap. Leave your reports in my office, I’ll take a look later.” He digs into his pocket and gives Yod a small stack of money. ”Get us something for tonight. I have a feeling we all need it.”

”Yeah,” Yod says, subdued. 

”What about the villagers?” Rang asks. ”They know we found something—or someone—what are we going to tell them?”

Phupha rubs a hand over his face. ”Tell Khama I’ll come to see him later today. Other than that… if anyone asks, tell them you don’t know and they should ask me when they see me.”

”Sure thing, Chief,” Rang says.

Peeling off his uniform feels like he’s peeling off more than just clothes. It’s not the first time it feels like that but it feels bigger, somehow. More significant, almost like his uniform is linked to whatever happened to the man sleeping at Nam’s clinic. He feels responsible which doesn’t make any sense—these aren’t his woods, not his national park, and yet he feels like he should’ve known something like this was happening.

With a frown, he pushes the thought off his mind, steps under the lukewarm shower, and scrubs himself clean. When he’s done, the base is quiet, both Yod and Rang out. They left him coffee and breakfast and he scarfs it down before falling into bed.

He’s dead tired but sleep is a long time coming.

Nothing happens in the following two days. Sunday is in no way different from other Sundays, and Monday is a usual Monday; school and farming, and patrolling. Nothing hints that they found someone in the woods or that the someone is yet to wake up. It’s getting on Phupha’s nerves.

He meets up with Khama each morning which itself is nothing unusual, even though the topics they discuss are. The village chief is as worried as Phupha and is reaching out to his own contacts in other villages to both warn them and to ask for more information, but with the distance and lack of technology, their responses will take time. 

”It’s new,” Khama said to Phupha on Saturday, the first time they talked after the Incident. ”Smugglers, yes. Poaching, yes. Human trafficking, though?” He shook his head with a frown. ”There are easier routes for that. I can’t come up with anything. It’s like…” his voice trailed away as he gazed into the forest.

”What?” Phupha asked.

Khama pressed his lips together. ”Have you considered that this could be personal?”

”You mean that he got caught up with the wrong crowd?”

Khama shrugged. ”Or that he’s a warning. Or something else.”

Frankly, he hadn’t thought about that but ever since Khama said it aloud, it’s been nagging at him.

What if the man is a warning? For whom? And from whom? If it isn’t Sakda, who else is using the jungle as their garbage disposal?

All the more reason to keep the man safe.

”—Chief?” Torfun asks, sounding like she’s repeated it a couple of times already. ”You’re thinking about him again, aren’t you?”

He huffs slightly and shrugs with his other shoulder. ”He’s a victim of something,” he says quietly, glancing at the kids bent over their schoolbooks. ”It’s hard not to worry.”

She nudges him slightly. ”And that’s why you do it,” she says. ”You’re a protector.”

He ducks his head and crosses his arms on his chest.

He likes this new thing between them, this trust and camaraderie. Some while ago, Torfun asked him out and he had to let her down. He was beyond relieved when she gave him a wry smile and said, ”I’m of the wrong gender, aren’t I?” When he nodded, she added, ”I sort of knew already but wanted to ask to make sure.” And that had been that.

”He could help out here,” Torfun says and narrows her eyes. ”That could be his cover story.”

”Cover story?”

”Yeah! Just because the class is small doesn’t mean I didn’t need extra pair of hands. Just think about how many times I’ve needed help from you or the other rangers.”

”Hm.”

”That depends on him, of course,” she adds. ”We don’t know if he even likes kids.”

”And all this assuming Nam lets him out of the bed,” he reminds. ”And for that to happen, he’d need to wake up first.”

Torfun sighs. ”Yeah.”

The call comes the next day around noon. 

Phupha is patrolling when his radio crackles and Rang says tightly, ”Chief? Doc Nam could use a hand at the clinic.”

”Thanks,” Phupha says, already heading down. ”Tell Yod to finish up.”

Nam is waiting for him at the clinic door when he drives down to park the bike, and he doesn’t look happy. ”He has amnesia,” he says the moment Phupha kills the engine. ”He doesn’t remember his name, where he’s from, or what happened to him. Not unusual, considering the trauma he’s been through but it makes things a hell of a lot more complicated.”

”His heart,” Phupha says.

”Yeah,” Nam says, raking a hand through his hair. ”I have no clue what to do about it. Does he need medication? Close observation? Bedrest? Oxygen tank? Fuck if I know!”

”There’s nothing we can do about it now,” Phupha says. 

Nam gives him a flat look. ”I know that. It just pisses me off.”

”Anything from Jaeb?”

”No,” Nam says, frustrated. ”Come on,” he says and jerks his head to invite Phupha in.

The last time Phupha saw the man, he was unconscious on the thin extra mattress in the corner of the room. The mattress is still there but the man is sitting on the examination table, frowning at his hands. He’s wearing a worn shirt and pants Phupha recognizes as Nam’s. He lifts his head when Nam and Phupha enter and the look in his eyes makes Phupha’s heart stutter.

He’s terrified. 

”Hi,” Phupha says, pitching his voice to what he uses when he finds trapped animals. ”My name is Phupha. I’m the Chief Commander of the Phapundao ranger base.” He walks slowly closer, making sure to make no sudden moves. ”Nam told me you don’t remember what happened.”

The man shakes his head slowly. The look in his eyes doesn’t change.

”We’ve been waiting for you to wake up,” Phupha says. 

The man opens his mouth, closes it. Opens it again. ”How long?” he asks. It’s raspy and hoarse and sounds exactly like someone who has been strangled. 

”Almost three days here,” Nam says. ”Most likely less than a day in the woods.”

The man nods.

Phupha looks at Nam, feeling slightly lost. 

”This would be easier without your memory loss,” Nam says in that brisk voice medical professionals tend to have. ”Because then we would know your name. Calling you ”you” gets confusing in the long run. So, while I’m more than happy to keep you here, I can’t because I have other patients and my clinic isn’t meant for long-term care anyway.” He glances at Phupha and raises a brow. ”We’re not kicking you out, no need to worry about that, but we need to relocate you.”

Phupha clears his throat and stifles a wince when the man’s head whips around, startled. ”Something bad happened to you,” he says, ”but we don’t know what. Phapundao is a remote village and while I know the villagers would be more than happy to house you, we think you’d be safest staying at the ranger base.”

”With you?”

Feeling strangely self-conscious, Phupha shrugs. ”Well, I live there, but there are also Yod and Rang. They’re the ones who found you, by the way. They’ve been worried.”

”I’m not letting you go just yet,” Nam says. ”I want to see you move around and eat first. But tomorrow, yeah.”

The man looks at Phupha, then at Nam, and then at Phupha again before dropping his gaze back to his hands. ”Okay,” he says. He’s quiet. Meek.

Phupha doesn’t like it.

It’s been ages since the last time Phupha had to share his space with someone. Not that he’s had much privacy even before the mystery man moved in but at least he had his own room. Now, he has his room and the man who still looks like a ghost.

”You can take the bed,” Phupha says, a bit awkward. ”I changed the sheets and the mattress isn’t too lumpy.”

The man frowns. ”And where will you sleep?”

Phupha shrugs. ”On the floor. Or in the hammock, it really doesn’t matter,” he adds, seeing the frown on the other’s face. ”I’m used to sleeping somewhere else than in an actual bed. Don’t worry about it.”

”Okay.”

”You can leave your stuff there for now,” he says and beckons. ”The shower is in the back—no hot water unfortunately—and over here is the kitchen area where we cook and eat.”

The man nods. 

”Do you, uh…are you hungry?”

”I don’t…” the man pauses, almost like he’s confused by what his own body tells him. ”I don’t know?”

”Hm. Okay. I’ll come up with something. I guess you should eat small meals but often to get your body used to solid food again. How are you feeling?” When he gets no answer, Phupha turns to look. 

The man is leaning on the porch pillar and staring into something with a faraway look in his eyes, hugging his arms around himself, looking vulnerable and lost. Phupha puts down the wok he picked up and walks over, stopping next to him but careful not to touch to avoid startling him.

”Look,” he says quietly. ”I don’t know what’s going to happen. We have no clue where you’re from or where your family is but while we try to figure something out, you’ll be safe here. I promise.”

The man gives him a wan smile. ”Thanks,” he says. ”This is so weird.”

”I can’t even imagine,” Phupha says. ”Now, how do you feel? Any nausea? Headache? Dizziness?” He gets a head shake as an answer. ”Okay. So, I’m going to make us something to eat and then we’ll head out to the school.”

”School?”

”Mn, yeah. Torfun, our volunteer teacher, said she could use some help. And that way you wouldn’t need to be alone when I’m patrolling.”

”Oh. Okay.”

As they eat, Phupha shoots quick looks at their guest from the corner of his eye. He’s subdued and still scared—and no wonder—and it makes Phupha wonder how he is normally. Is he quiet or loud? Reserved or outgoing? An observer or in the middle of the action? 

He hopes taking him to the school is the right decision.

”Kids! We have a mystery guest today!” Torfun says as soon as Phupha stops the bike in front of the school. She hurries to them and helps the man from the bike with that same effortless ease she seems to do so many things, and holds onto his hand with a small smile, inclining her head.

”Come in! I’m Torfun and these here are…well. Why don’t you introduce yourselves?”

As the kids go through a round of more or less enthusiastic introductions, Phupha keeps his eyes on the man. He’s smiling slightly, the lost look slightly eased up now, and he seems slightly more relaxed than he’s been so far. 

”And what’s your name?” Ayi asks.

Before the man has the chance to reply, Torfun raises a finger to her lips. ”That’s a secret. Our mystery guest has a code name and it’s your job to try to guess it!” She winks at Phupha. ”Each of you can only have one guess per day!”

The man glances at Phupha who shrugs with a smile.

They stay for a couple of hours and after the first flurry of questions and giggles, the kids settle down. Torfun has a knack to make them concentrate and pay attention, a skill Phupha greatly admires. It seems to help their guest as well because, after a moment of awkward hovering, he sits at the large table. His eyes wander from Torfun to each kid, to the decorations and drawings on the walls, to the chalkboard behind Torfun’s desk. At times his lips draw into  a small smile when Meejoo and Kalae joke and bicker or when Ayi corrects something Torfun says. A couple of times he even opens his mouth almost as if to say something, only to snap it closed again and withdraw back into himself.

Phupha wishes he didn’t.

”Can you write?” Inta asks after the lunch break.

”Why do you ask?” the man asks.

Inta cocks her head. ”You’re our mystery guest with a code name, we have to learn anything we can about you to guess your name!”

”Good point,” Torfun says and hands the man a pen and paper. ”Why don’t you…” she taps her forefinger against her cheek for a moment. ”Why don’t you copy this paragraph from the storybook!” She sets the book in front of the man and points to where he should start.

”Yes, madam,” the man says solemnly and starts to write. 

Torfun meets Phupha’s eyes over the man’s bent head. Nam did his own tests before releasing the man, of course, he still feels strangely relieved when he sees how effortlessly the man reads and writes. 

”I think he passed,” Torfun says to Inta.

”How about math?” Ayi asks.

Turns out, their mystery guest can count—so well, in fact that he jumps from the simple math lessons to some more advanced stuff that makes Torfun raise her brows. And then he’s asked to draw and he does that, too, although passably.

When the questions are all used up, Torfun moves on to biology, drawing their guest in every now and then. Everything seems to be going fine, so Phupha quietly tells their guest that he’ll step out for a moment to meet up with Khama, but that he’ll pick him up later. 

The man bites his lip nervously and then nods.

He leaves his bike parked where it is and walks instead. 

Khama is feeding his chicken when Phupha knocks at the wall of his house. 

”How is our mystery guest?” he asks over his shoulder.

”Seems to be doing fine,” Phupha says. ”He’s at the school now. I think Torfun’s idea is good.”

”As long as the Volunteer organization doesn’t come in snooping,” Khama says wryly. 

Phupha snorts. ”You know just as well as I how likely that is. They’re just happy they have someone here; if we have an extra who isn’t paid even the small sum they have for primary volunteer teachers…”

”Yeah.” Khama wipes his hands and beckons Phupha to follow. ”No news is good news, I guess. Longtae is coming home next week, he might have more ideas.”

Phupha nods. ”What about everything else?”

Khama shakes his head. ”Same old, same old. Mr. Sakda is being his difficult self as usual but we’re…negotiating, so to speak.”

”As long as that doesn’t mean knives,” Phupha says. ”I don’t like his men but—”

”—but he has the monopoly around here and we’ll get by,” Khama says. It’s an old argument that never goes anywhere; Mr. Sakda is the primary tea buyer in the area and these small villages take the money they can get. It’s a broken system but it’s better than nothing.

”What are you going to do next?” Khama asks after some while. ”About him.”

Phupha shakes his head. ”I don’t think there is much we can do. Keep him safe. Try to find out anything about him.”

”We should come up with a name,” Khama muses. ”Being nameless isn’t a good thing.”

”The kids might be up to the job.”

Khama gives him an amused look. ”If we leave naming to children, we’ll end up calling him grass or kite or something like that.”

”Better than nothing, I guess?”

When he makes it back to the school he hears Ayi has decided the man’s name is Seetian simply because, ”He likes crayons.”

Seetian slots into a part of their life with surprising ease. He shares the room with Phupha and almost naturally falls into the same circadian rhythm with him. Phupha lets him sleep when he gets up for his run in the morning, but he’s often awake by the time he’s done with his washing-up. They share a simple breakfast (with Yod and Rang whenever they’re around) and then Phupha drives him to the school for the day and picks him up when it’s time to go home.

It’s simple. It’s easy.

It’s terrifying.

Seetian has a quick smile and big, beautiful eyes and to his horror, Phupha catches himself staring way too many times. He knows he shouldn’t but he can’t help himself—there’s something about him that draws Phupha in, something compelling that itches under his skin and urges him to stay close, to guard, to protect, to keep safe. He tells himself it’s just that Seetian is recovering from his traumatic experience, it’s just that he’s vulnerable and therefore kicking Phupha’s more primitive instincts into overdrive. He tells himself he’s just doing his job.

He doesn’t really believe that, though.

Because Seetian is gorgeous and soft and just the right height to tuck him under Phupha’s arm. He’s smart and good with kids, and Phupha wants to know if his lips are as soft as they look. And it all makes him a horrible man because Seetian is traumatized and he’s lost his memory and he’s completely at their mercy, and here’s Phupha, daydreaming about him like some pervert.

”Hm,” Nam says one day when he comes over (namely to check in on Seetian but really he’s just here for the booze), giving Phupha a long look as he leans against the porch railing.

”Don’t,” Phupha says in a low voice. ”I know.”

”You can’t,” Nam says quietly.

”I know,” Phupha repeats. ”I’m not an idiot. Or a creep.”

Nam lets out a dismayed sound. ”That’s not— Look. I get it. I’m straight and I’m engaged to be married, and even I see he’s cute as fuck.”

”Was that supposed to help somehow?”

Nam shrugs and takes a pull from his bottle. ”I don’t know. Did it?”

”No,” Phupha says dryly.

”He keeps looking at you, too,” Nam says. ”In case it helps.”

Phupha gives him a withering look. ”How is that helpful?”

”Hell if I know,” Nam says. ”How has he been holding up?”

”Torfun says he’s actually helping. He’s good at math but not that good at biology, he has a Southern accent, and apparently, his English is good because yesterday Torfun started singing ’What a wonderful world,’ and he joined in and then continued joking in English.”

Nam purses his lips. ”Huh. So, he’s a rich kid from the South.”

”Most likely, yeah.”

They still haven’t figured out what to do with him or how to help him to get home—wherever that might be. News travel slow in these parts but Phupha feels like they should’ve heard something by now. 

Or perhaps there simply is nothing to be heard. 

He doubts that.

Phupha is jolted from his musings when Seetian drops to sit next to him and asks, ”Is there a reason you two look so sour?” His voice is amused and slightly breathy—he’s not allowed any alcohol as of yet but he seems to be doing just fine without: his cheeks are red and a small bead of sweat trails down the side of his neck and into the hollow of his throat, trembling in the rhythm of his heartbeat.

Phupha drops his eyes to his lap.

”Still trying to figure out who you are,” Nam says.

”Oh, that,” Seetian says, humor dropping from his voice. ”Sorry. I know it must make things difficult for you.”

”Nah,” Nam says and waves away his protests. ”Don’t worry about that. Now, have you made any progress with your cooking skills?”

Seetian rolls his eyes but lets Nam draw him into light banter. Phupha watches them as they talk, the way Nam scoffs and points at pots and pans and spices, the way the lantern light dances on Seetian’s skin, and how his throat is bared to a delicate arc as he leans his head back to laugh.

”Ohh, yeah. Now I get it,” Torfun suddenly says from his side. She leans into him slightly and clinks their bottles together. 

”Get what?” Phupha asks even though he knows he really, really shouldn’t.

”Why you turned me down. I’ve never seen you look at anyone like that.” She sounds thoughtful.

Phupha scowls at his beer. ”I shouldn’t be doing that, either.”

”I’d like to say there’s nothing wrong in looking but…this is a very complicated situation.”

Phupha doesn’t bother pointing out that even if Seetian wasn’t recovering from kidnapping and abuse, it would still be complicated: Phupha is a reclusive and often standoffish ranger and married to his job, and if that wasn’t enough, he lives in Phapundao and he has no interest in leaving the place. He loves his home and these forests, and he feels he’s exactly where he’s supposed to be. He’s not anyone’s first choice for a partner, hardly even for a fling.

So, even if Seetian’s situation wasn’t what it is, Phupha shouldn’t be looking. 

Because no matter when he remembers and how much, Seetian won’t be staying anyway. In the end, he doesn’t belong in Phapundao.

”I was thinking about taking him to the market on Saturday,” Torfun says with a slightly forced cheer. ”If Nam gives him permission, of course.”

”He would probably enjoy it,” Phupha says. ”I’ll give you some money.”

Torfun rolls her eyes. ”Oh, please. I’m an independent woman, I don’t need your money.”

Phupha raises a brow. ”It’s not meant for you anyway.”

Her laughter makes him grin, and when he looks up, Seetian is watching them from across the room, head tilted slightly to the side. Phupha tells himself it doesn’t make him even cuter.

Yod drives Torfun and Seetian to the town at the base of the mountain, using the time to visit his fiancee. Phupha wanted to drive them himself but he’s tied up with official, way overdue paperwork and therefore unable to leave. Yod reassures him that everything will be fine, Torfun won’t let Seetian out of her sight, and Yod will have his phone with him.

He still worries.

It’s alarming to realize how Seetian leaving now would leave him with an absence in his life, a space that’s now filled with quick smiles and easy laughter. If Phupha allows himself to dream—

He hisses through his teeth and scowls at his paperwork. He shouldn’t allow himself to dream. He shouldn’t think about a future with Seetian in it because that future will not happen. Sooner or later, Seetian will leave—either because he remembers who he is or because he finds the life in the village too harsh and Phupha, too. Besides, Phupha’s rooms at the base aren’t really fit for a couple and they don’t have the finances to renovate, let alone build anything new and—

”Fuck,” he sighs.

It’s possible this all is just a result of not getting laid, as Nam so delicately puts it. Seetian is young, new, and beautiful, it’s no wonder Phupha is attracted. If he frequented the town—or even Chiang Mai—he might have a better hold on his frustrations, hence negating the need to project his feelings on some unfortunate, amnesiac man. 

However, even the thought of going out with the single-minded goal of having sex in mind makes something in him shudder. For some people, it might work. But not for him.

With a sigh, he gets up and rolls his shoulders to relieve the tension he’s been gathering for what feels like weeks. His neck makes a series of satisfying popping sounds as he stretches, and he’s pretty sure that if he rotated his back, it would also crackle like burning wood.

An amused huff behind him makes him turn. 

”That doesn’t sound comfortable,” Khama says.

”I guess I’m getting old,” he grumbles.

”More like too stationary,” Khama says wryly. ”Your bosses push too much paperwork on you.”

He shrugs. ”True. But the sad truth is that the paper trail is the only way to both make things happen and prove they’ve actually happened. At least for now.”

Khama nods solemnly, as if what Phupha just said was a great wisdom indeed. ”Longtae is coming home today,” he says. ”I asked Yod to pick him up and fill him in before he collects Miss Torfun and Seetian.”

Phupha nods. ”Good thinking, thank you. Now that you’re here, should we look at the renovation plans?” he asks.

Khama’s lips twitch and he looks like he knows exactly what Phupha is doing: trying to occupy his mind while anxiously waiting for Yod, Torfun, and Seetian to come back. But the village chief humors him and they get some pending paperwork done and even archived which is always a boon. 

However, when he hears their trusty Jeep’s rumbling, he doesn’t even pretend to not be relieved. Torfun offers a small wave from the front seat and Phupha can see Seetian and Longtae on the cargo bed, talking with their heads bent close together. It makes something pang in his chest and he shoves it down. It’ll do good for Seetian to have someone like Longtae for company. Someone easy-going and fun. Someone younger.

”Hi, Dad!” Longtae calls out with a wide grin and raises a hand.

It jolts Phupha from his thoughts and he huffs, ducks his head, and moves slightly out of the way to let Longtae and Khama greet each other. He helps Yod to unload the jeep and tries to ignore the way Longtae’s eyes seem to wander back to Seetian.

”How was the city life?” he asks Torfun who rolls her eyes and shakes her head as she collects her bags and gets out of the jeep.

”It was nice,” Seetian says. ”Colorful.”

”Not too much for you?” Phupha worries, giving him a quick once-over.

Seetian shrugs. ”I’m a bit tired?” he says hesitantly. ”It was a warm day and we walked around a lot.”

Phupha nods toward their room. ”Go take a nap. You look a bit pale.”

”Chief…” Seetian whines but relents quickly enough that Phupha knows he really is tired. It’s concerning—Seetian hasn’t had another fever seizure but Nam is worried about his heart for a good reason. In the village, Phupha tends to drive him to the school and back and he moves relatively little. During their trip, he was bound to walk more.

He turns to see Longtae watch him with a slight frown, open his mouth, and then close it again. 

Well. It’s as good a time as any.

”Are you busy?” he asks, looking at Torfun. When she shakes her head, Phupha sighs, nods once, and beckons them to sit down.

”How much did Yod tell you?” he asks Longtae.

”Uh,” Longtae says, glances at Yod making coffee, then at his dad, and Torfun, before he looks back at Phupha. ”He said you found someone and that someone is most likely in danger, and you’re still trying to figure out what to do.”

”More or less,” Torfun says quietly. ”Seetian is working at the school with me—that’s his cover—and the kids picked his name. He has amnesia.”

Longtae blinks and nods slowly. ”I thought that was an interesting nickname,” he says. ”Why is he sleeping in your room, Chief?”

Phupha feels himself stiffen at the question and huffs. ”We thought it would be the safest option for him.”

”No, I meant, why is he sleeping there now?” Longtae says, cocking his head like he’s trying to hear if Seetian is asleep or awake.

”There’s something wrong with his heart,” Khama says. ”So no extensive hiking trips, you hear me?”

”Oh,” Longtae says and nods again. ”Okay. So, he’s basically hiding out in Phapundao?”

”Yes,” Phupha says. ”Nam has been trying to figure something out with Jaeb but with little to no luck. Your dad said you might have some ideas.”

Longtae scratches his head. ”I could try out some kind of a reverse image search but that would require taking his picture and putting it online and—” he sighs. ”Look. I know it sounds like a sci-fi thriller or something but if you’re really trying to keep him safe and out of danger, perhaps downloading his face on the internet isn’t the best idea.”

”That makes sense,” Khama says with a small frown. 

”It’s been only a month or so,” Yod says from the side where he’s leaning on the railing, nursing his coffee mug. ”He might still remember.”

”Have you—” Longtae starts and then falls silent, biting his lip. 

Torfun raises a brow. ”Have we…what?”

Longtae glances at his dad and then at Phupha. ”Have you considered that he might not want to be found?”

Phupha frowns. ”It could be possible but…considering the state of him when we found him?” He shakes his head. ”I don’t think so.”

”Okay,” Longtae says. ”Just checking.” He takes a sip from his mug. ”So, now we just…wait?”

”Yeah,” Phupha says, glancing at the closed door to his room.

If only they knew just what.

Longtae and Seetian get on like a house on fire and Phupha finds himself both relieved and jealous. It’s annoying and it pisses him off, but he can’t seem to turn either emotion off. 

He would very much like to turn them off, thank you.

”You are ridiculous,” Nam says because he’s a little shit and loves to poke at Phupha for fun.

”Fuck off,” Phupha murmurs, turning his back at Longtae teaching Seetian to braid bracelets. The low fire from the fire pit probably makes braiding almost impossible but it does make Seetian even more beautiful than usual.

”He’s looking at you,” Nam singsongs under his breath.

Against his better judgment, Phupha glances over his shoulder only to see Seetian concentrated on his braiding. 

”Well, he turned as soon as you did,” Nam hisses. ”Wait, oh, he’s looking at you again.”

”What are you, a twelve-year-old girl?” Phupha asks, exasperated.

Nam raises a brow. ”First of all, that’s misogynistic as fuck. Second, bold of you to assume I’d take that as an insult. And what have twelve-year-old girls done to you anyway? Nothing!”

”I’m gonna talk to the tree over there,” Phupha says, pointing vaguely behind Nam. ”It’s better company than you.” He ignores Nam’s cackling and stomps across the yard, sits heavily on a log, and looks up. The sky is clear and littered with stars, and their small fire and oil lamps don’t lower the visibility that much. 

He’s always loved the night sky. The stars stretching across the sky make him feel small in a good way, reminding him of his place in the universe. He’s just one piece of a large puzzle, important to what’s around him but almost insignificant to the whole picture. 

”I brought you a beer,” Seetian says. He has the skill to move quietly and it’s not the first time he seems to just appear next to Phupha. 

”Thanks,” he says with a small smile and takes a pull.

Seetian sits next to him, leans back a bit, and looks up. ”They’re bright,” he says after a moment.

”Yeah.”

They sit in silence for some while, Seetian watching the stars and Phupha taking an occasional sip from his beer. It’s easy, comfortable, and the only thing that would make it better was if Phupha could just cuddle Seetian under his arm.

He huffs slightly. Stupid. 

”What?” Seetian asks, tilting his head. It angles his face in a way that beckons Phupha to trace the curve of his throat with his lips and Phupha shakes his head slightly. 

”Nothing,” he says. Stupid. 

Seetian lets out a hum.

”How are you holding up?” Phupha asks some while later.

”I don’t know,” Seetian says slowly. ”I don’t know how I should feel? I’m not in pain and apart from the dizzy spells and breathlessness, I feel fine.”

Dizzy spells? Breathlessness? Phupha makes a mental note to ask Nam later. 

”I like it here,” Seetian continues. ”It’s simple and easy and nice.”

”Do you ever think about—” Phupha pauses. ”I’m sorry.”

”Sometimes,” Seetian says. ”I don’t like it, though. It’s—I really don’t remember and it’s like I’m staring into the fog and if I walk into it, I’ll be lost. And now—I can be just…me. I don’t have to think about if I should be playing with kids and kites and drawing funny animals with crayons—I have no idea if the me from before would like that. I don’t even know if I would like the me from before.”

From the corner of his eye, he sees Seetian hug himself like he’s cold. Perhaps he is—it is a bit chilly. He doesn’t let himself think about it too closely and chucks his jacket off, settles it on Seetian’s shoulders. He looks up, surprised.

Phupha shrugs, slightly sheepish. ”You’re cold.”

Seetian smiles. ”Thanks,” he says and keeps looking at Phupha with half-lidded eyes.

If it were any other time, any other place, any other circumstance, this would be the perfect moment to lean in for a kiss, to taste Seetian’s lips and swallow the small noises he’d make; draw him onto his lap and cradle him close—

Phupha closes his eyes and turns his head. His face feels cold even though he’s now facing the fire pit.

”Oh,” Seetian says in a small, choked voice. ”I’m sorry—I thought—

Against his better judgment, he turns again and meets Seetian’s dark, imploring eyes for a split moment before dropping his gaze. ”It’s not that. I—”

”No, of course not,” Seetian interrupts. ”I thought you’d want—”

”I do,” slips out before Phupha can stop it. ”But Seetian…” he pauses to steal a glance at the other’s face and feels like a monster when he sees the wet gleam in his eyes. ”Look,” he says in a low voice. ”What I want is irrelevant. You don’t know who you are, where you come from, what your family is like, and—”

”What the hell does that have to do with any of this?” Seetian snaps. ”I feel safe when I’m with you and I always want to be with you. Don’t treat me like an imbecile just because I don’t remember my name!”

”That’s not why!” Phupha says, exasperated. ”Seetian, if I kissed you now, I’d be taking advantage!”

”Not if I said yes,” Seetian says mulishly.

Phupha shakes his head. ”What if you already had someone at home? What if you had a family—a spouse, maybe kids waiting for you? I’m not willing to hurt you or anyone else like that just for a kiss.”

”It could be more than just a kiss,” Seetian mutters under his breath. Phupha isn’t sure whether he was meant to hear it or not.

”I couldn’t do that to you,” Phupha says and then adds in a whisper, ”Or to me.”

”Oh,” Seetian says again.

The silence feels awkward and Phupha wonders if it would be better to leave when Seetian says, ”I’m sorry. Not for what I feel because I’m not going to apologize for that. But I’m sorry for pushing you. That wasn’t fair.”

Phupha offers him a small smile. ”Apology accepted.”

A short moment later, Seetian carefully leans his head on his shoulder. ”Is this okay?” he asks.

Phupha clears his throat. ”Yeah.”

This time, the silence they share is more comfortable. Still somewhat awkward but also tentative. Hopeful.

Phupha doesn’t even pretend to not be relieved when Seetian’s behavior doesn’t drastically change. He still sits next to Phupha when they eat, nudges him with a shoulder, smiles at him. He’s still devastatingly beautiful and the knowledge that he’d be willing if Phupha reached out makes him even more…just…more. 

And it’s not that Seetian does it on purpose; he’s not out to seduce Phupha like some homme fatale temptress. It merely seems like the more comfortable he grows with himself and the people he interacts with, the more freely he touches people: he ruffles the kids’ hair, leans against Torfun’s side when they plan lessons, and steers Longtae with hands on his shoulders. Seetian is a creature of comfort and closeness and it’s Phupha’s problem to deal with the need burning under his skin.

The Saturday trips to the market become a regular thing. Usually, Seetian goes with Torfun and Yod but Phupha likes to take Seetian himself if he has a chance. They only need to buy supplies in larger quantities once or twice a month, other times it’s more about strolling among the stalls and chatting with the aunties. Seetian tends to have aunties coo over him which makes him both mortified and flustered, and Phupha tends to hang back a bit and enjoy the view. 

He likes it when Seetian flushes and ducks his head.

He would like to see how far his chest the blush travels.

He would also like to get a grip on his horny side because frankly, this is getting out of hand.

”Hot?” Seetian asks, squinting up at him.

Yes, Phupha wants to growl but he swallows and adjusts his sunglasses, nudging Seetian to the shade. ”You need a hat,” he says gruffly.

”And what kind of a hat should I buy?” Seetian grins. ”A wide-brimmed straw hat? A sunscreen hat with a ridiculously big visor? Or, wait, no, should I get a parasol?”

”I’ll buy you all of those if that’s what it takes to keep you out of the sun,” Phupha grumbles.

Seetian’s delighted laughter makes his mouth dry and he turns to scowl at the display rack.

Next to them, a bunch of tourists wandering the market stop to take silly photos and for a moment, the noise covers Seetian’s chuckles. He flinches slightly and Phupha takes his hand to draw him away from the hubbub. ”Are you hungry?” he asks. ”We can eat here if you’d like.”

”I could eat,” Seetian says. 

He doesn’t remove his hand from Phupha’s hold but twines their fingers together instead, making Phupha intensely aware of the warmth of his skin and how his hand is smaller than his. He shoots a glance at Seetian but he’s peering at something on display, completely at ease and with a small smile playing on his lips. The auntie catches his eye and waggles her brows, which makes Phupha clear his throat and pretend he’s not blushing.

Seetian holds his hand until they find a food stall he wants to try, and then lets go because they need their both hands to eat. He doesn’t take Phupha’s hand after, and he doesn’t reach out either.

He still feels Seetian’s touch for the rest of the day.

Seetian has been such an effortless part of their lives that when it changes, it takes them all by surprise. It’s an ugly surprise too because the kids see it and they’re understandably distraught after.

Phupha tells himself he should’ve known. He should’ve seen it, he should’ve remembered what Nam told him. But he doesn’t remember, so when Seetian stops in the middle of flying a kite, half-turns toward Phupha, and then crumples, the terror that hits Phupha nearly makes him faint. 

”Seetian!” he yells as he sprints across the field, past the wide-eyed Longtae and alarmed kids, and crashes on his knees next to Seetian. He’s pale, almost white, eyes wide and unseeing as he gasps for breath. 

”Seetian!” Phupha calls out again, urgent.

He gently cradles the younger man in his arms so that he’s resting against Phupha’s chest, the other arm securely around his middle, the other supporting his head. Under his fingers, Seetian’s pulse jumps and races in stops and turns, and with a cold sense of dread, Phupha realizes what this is about.

”Get Nam, now!” he barks to Longtae. ”Seetian is having a heart attack. GO!”

”Shit,” Torfun swears. ”Okay, kids, move away. Give them some space—”

The noise around them melts away when Seetian’s wide, terrified eyes snap to Phupha’s. He’s still gasping for breath and he’s trying to talk, so Phupha beds closer and says, ”Don’t speak. Just breathe. Breathe with me, okay?”

Seetian manages a small nod and his hands latch on Phupha’s arm, gripping it with a bruising force.

”I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. Just breathe, okay? Longtae went to get Nam—” He keeps up with the continuous murmuring, keeps holding Seetian up, keeps wishing they were somewhere else than on a remote field in a remote mountain village with no hospital in easy reach. Why hadn’t he made sure Seetian had his medication with him before they left? Nam had given Seetian a small packet of sublingual nitroglycerin tablets some while ago, why didn’t he have them with him? Phupha should’ve made sure—he should’ve taken care—he should’ve—

”Phu!” Nam’s voice snaps like a whip, jerking him from his spiraling thoughts. ”Move your ass a bit, thank you,” Nam says tightly. He hisses a curse under his breath as he orders Seetian to open his mouth and pushes a tablet under his tongue and then holds two fingers on his pulse point, glancing at his clock every now and then.

”How long has it been?” Nam asks.

”Um,” Phupha says. He has no clue how much time has passed other than it feels like it’s been forever.

”Fifteen minutes? I think?” Torfun says hesitantly. 

”Fuck,” Nam says. ”Has he been conscious the whole time?”

Phupha nods, then clears his throat and says, ”Yes.”

”Thank fuck for small mercies,” Nam mutters. ”Why the hell didn’t you take a pill the moment you felt the symptoms?” he asks Seetian. ”Or do you even have them with you?”

”No,” Seetian gasps. His breathing is getting better which means that the pill is working? Hopefully? Phupha isn’t sure how fast the sublingual tablets dissolve.

”For fuck’s sake!” Nam explodes. ”I gave them to you on purpose, kid! I’m trying to keep you alive and that means preventing you from having a fucking heart attack!”

”Sorry,” Seetian whispers.

Nam shakes his head. ”Don’t apologize to me,” he grumbles. ”I’m just your doctor.”

”Sorry,” Seetian repeats.

Nam keeps quiet this time, concentrating on Seetian’s heartbeat. To Phupha, it feels like it’s calming down under his fingertips, and in his arms, Seetian’s breathing slows from panicked gasps to almost regular.

Nam lets out a long breath. ”Well. Congratulations. You’re not dead,” says dryly to Seetian and then to Phupha, ”And you! What the hell were you thinking, bringing him out here to run around? You should’ve known better, Phu.”

”I know. I—”

”Hey!” Seetian snaps. ”Don’t yell at him. I’m the one who left the pills at home. And I’m the one who decided to run.” He tries to glare at Nam but the effect is slightly lost when his small tirade leaves him breathless and limp on Phupha’s arms.

”No, he’s right—” Phupha starts.

”Hell, yeah, I’m right!” Nam interrupts. ”Phu is the older one in this relationship so he really should’ve known better! I explicitly told him to keep an eye on you and to keep your medication ready, and look what happened!”

Seetian looks indignant. ”I don’t need keeping an eye on—”

”Sure you don’t, mister I-just-had-a-heart-attack-on-a-field-after-running-around-like-a-moron,” Nam deadpans.

Seetian flinches slightly and Phupha feels the need to step in. ”Nam—”

”Shut up, Phu,” Nam says tiredly, wipes his hands on his pants, and stands up. ”Come on. I want to take another EKG. Not that it makes much of a difference but I could always draw flowers on the chart, I guess.”

”Here,” Torfun says and hands Seetian an opened juice carton. ”To get some sugar into your system.”

Seetian offers her a small smile and takes the juice. Over his head, Phupha meets Nam’s eyes, and when Nam shakes his head slightly, he says, ”Okay, you keep drinking that. I’ll carry you to the clinic.”

”What? Chief, wait—!” Seetian yelps as Phupha adjusts him and then stands up, ignoring his sputtering. Compared to the time when he carried Tian from the jungle, he feels different in Phupha’s arms. More solid. 

Alive. 

The fact that he’s resting his head on Phupha’s shoulder while drinking his juice might also have something to do with it.

Nam puts Seetian on a non-negotiable no-stress-and-no-fucking-exercise plan which means he’s allowed to sit in class but the trips to the market are on hold. It makes him subdued but Phupha thinks that’s not all there is: until now, Seetian had been able to pretend he was just a normal young man living his life. The heart attack changed it.

Naturally, the whole village learns about the incident. After all, the kids were present and even though Torfun had a good, long talk with them after Phupha carried Seetian away, even though they’ve seen Seetian in class, even though they’ve talked with him, they talked about it with each other and their parents. Kids being kids, they soon forgot about it—mostly—but every now and then Phupha sees the way they watch Seetian, especially if it’s a hot day or if he looks a bit tired. The rest of the community makes sure to send small treats, usually via Khama or Longtae, which makes Seetian equally embarrassed and touched. 

Phupha deals with it by making sure one of the rangers (preferably him, if possible) is always nearby and that Seetian and Torfun always have his medication on hand.

”You don’t have to fuss,” Seetian grumbles one day when Phupha ends up asking five times if Seetian has his medication.

He turns to give him a flat look. ”I thought you were about to die,” he says quietly. ”I think I’m entitled to some fussing.”

”Yeah…” Seetian says. ”It just feels—” He falls silent and frowns.

”To me, it feels like a way to make sure you stay alive,” Phupha says. ”Come on. We’re going to be late.”

Torfun has a day off due to an appointment she wasn’t able to move which means that today, Seetian is in charge of the kids. Nominally, that is, because Torfun made a schedule and prepared tests and additional material, which means that all Seetian has to do is deal them out and supervise. Phupha has some of his own paperwork with him, although in all honesty, he ends up watching Seetian most of the time instead of actually getting some of that pending paperwork done.

It’s nearing lunchtime when Rang arrives in the jeep, looking slightly troubled, and beckons to Phupha.

”Torfun called,” he says in a low voice. ”She said she needs to talk to you so she asked you to call her back.” He pauses and his eyes flicker to Seetian and then back to Phupha. ”She said it’s about Seetian. Someone’s looking for him.”

Phupha goes cold. ”Is she safe?” he asks sharply, taking a look at Seetian who’s apparently talking about aerodynamics with Kalae.

Rang blinks and frowns. ”What? Oh, yeah. Sorry, she said not to worry,” he adds. ”Apparently, it’s a young guy looking for his friend.”

Phupha nods, knowing full well that it doesn’t necessarily mean Torfun is not in any danger. ”Seetian?” he calls. ”I’ll need to make some phone calls. Rang will stay with you.” When he gets a smile and a thumbs-up, he jumps on his bike and speeds to the base, trying to make himself calm down on the way.

Torfun answers on the second ring with, ”First of all, calm down.” 

”Easy for you to say,” Phupha says. Then he takes a deep breath. ”Okay. What’s going on?”

”So, after my appointment, I went to the market,” Torfun says. ”I wanted to check if the food stall Seetian likes so much still had the meat skewers and—well, anyway. I saw this young guy, about Seetian’s age, dealing out flyers. I got curious and went to see what it was about.” She pauses. ”It was a picture of Seetian and you.”

”What?” Phupha growls.

”It’s a tourist photo from the market,” Torfun says. ”Someone took a picture with you and Seetian in the background. He’s visible but you are in your civilian clothes with your back to the camera, but I recognized that shirt you bought especially for your marketplace dates. The guy—he said his name was Tul—seemed genuine. He said he’s been trying to find his friend for months now, and that the photo that his mom’s friend shared on Facebook was the first clue he’s seen.”

Phupha rubs a hand across his face. ”What did you tell him?”

”Nothing,” she says. ”I was very compassionate and asked if he knew what happened to him. He said he’d disappeared after a night out and that he had a heart condition. Chief, he looked like he was about to cry.”

”Wait, did he tell you Seetian’s name?”

”No. He showed me selfies from his phone, though. It’s Seetian. And yeah, he is a rich kid from the South.” She’s silent for a moment and then continues, ”I don’t think he’s lying.”

Phupha sighs. As long as he’s known Torfun, she’s always had a way to sense if people were honest or not. If she says this Tul guy isn’t lying… ”What do you want to do?” he asks.

”I want you to meet him. And if he’s really Seetian’s friend—Chief, he’d finally know who he is!”

Yeah. That’s sort of what he’s afraid of, to his own shame.

”Do you want me to pick you up?”

Torfun huffs a laugh. ”No need, he actually rented a car.”

They decide to meet at the base to keep Tul away from the village and the school, and Phupha asks Jim, one of the younger rangers, to check in on the school to ask Rang to keep Seetian there for a bit longer, perhaps faking some problem with the Jeep’s engine. It’s not really that far-fetched, considering the old thing has broken up twice during the past three weeks.

While he waits, he tries to do some ever-pending paperwork, sincerely hoping he could just set it on fire to be done with it. After starting the same form for the fourth time, he abandons his attempt and settles for cleaning up instead. At least that way he can concentrate on the sound of a car.

When he finally hears the approaching engine, he feels ready to vibrate out of his skin. He’s never felt this tense before an operation, but he refuses to contemplate why he’s now so jittery. 

The car is a rental SUV, more flashy than practical, exactly something Phupha would expect a Southern tourist to rent. The driver is a young man in his twenties and he goes a bit wide-eyed when he sees Phupha in his uniform and hands crossed on his chest. He gets out of the car with a frown, looking back and forth between Phupha and Torfun.

”Don’t get me wrong but…why am I here?” he asks slowly. ”You said there was someone who might’ve seen my friend,” he says pointing at Torfun, ”but now I’m at an army base?”

”Not an army base,” Phupha says. ”Forest rangers.”

”And that makes a difference…how?”

Phupha glances at Torfun who gives him an encouraging smile. ”Show me,” he says to Tul. ”You said you’re looking for your friend. Show me the proof.”

”Oh. Right.” 

Tul shows him the flyers Torfun told him about, and then a couple of selfies from his phone that are relatively convincing, except that, ”Anyone could’ve taken those photos,” Phupha points out.

Tul narrows his eyes and then opens a chat app to show a conversation between him and someone whose name is a bunch of emojis. It’s filled with what Phupha can only imagine is normal texting between friends, garnished with swearing, memes, and selfies. And it’s Seetian. In different clothes, with styled hair and earrings.

”So, have you seen him?” Tul asks.

Phupha glances at Torfun again, and when she nods, he says, ”Yes.”

Tul closes his eyes for a moment and lets out a shuddering breath. ”When?” he chokes.

”Today.”

”What?” Tul exclaims. ”Today—you mean—here? He’s here? Really?”

Before Phupha has the chance to reply, he hears the Jeep which means that either Seetian didn’t buy the broken Jeep excuse or he demanded to take a look. When the Jeep broke down earlier that month, Phupha ordered him not to touch the engine but as it turned out, disregarding his amnesia, Seetian has a very good memory: the next time the Jeep broke down, he was able to spot the problem almost right away.

Rang parks the Jeep, and gets out of the Jeep with a, ”He insisted on taking a look,” sounding apologetic. 

The passenger’s door opens and Seetian walks around the Jeep. ”What’s going on?” he asks slowly, looking from Tul to Phupha to Rang and back to Phupha.

”Tian!” Tul calls out. ”Oh, thank fuck you’re alright!”

”What—” Seetian says with a frown. ”Who are you?”

Tul looks taken aback. ”What do you mean? Tian, come on, it’s me!”

Seetian—Tian?—shakes his head. ”I—I don’t know who you are,” he says, sounding lost. He looks at Phupha, bewildered, and it prompts him to act.

”Give him some space,” Phupha says to Tul in a low voice as he walks past him to Seetian. ”Torfun met him at the market,” he says quietly. ”He says he’s your friend and he’s been looking for you for months. He showed me the chat log from his phone and, well, it is you.”

Seetian blinks rapidly. ”But…I don’t know who he is?”

Phupha shakes his head. ”It’s okay. Don’t push yourself.” He glances behind him and sees Torfun talking with Tul. Good. She’s good with people, way better than Phupha.

”Should I get Doctor Nam?” Rang asks.

Phupha cocks his head and raises a brow. ”Do you want Nam here?” he asks Seetian.

”I—yeah. I think so, yeah.”

”Got it,” Rang says.

”Come on,” Phupha says to Seetian, nudging him along. ”You need something to eat.”

Torfun has already led Tul to sit at the table, and she smiles at Seetian, orders him to sit, and hands him the bag with meat skewers. ”Eat,” she says. 

”Thanks,” Seetian says and tucks in, looking relieved to have an excuse to concentrate on something else than Tul.

”Um,” Tul says. ”So…I’m Tul.”

”I’m Torfun, the volunteer teacher,” Torfun says easily. She glances at Phupha and adds, ”And this is Chief Phupha, the head of the rangers stationed here.”

”Oh. Okay,” Tul says with a slightly wooden smile. He looks uncomfortable but Phupha doesn’t really feel like he needs to make him more comfortable. Seetian wanted to wait for Nam, so they’re waiting for Nam.

”Would you like something to drink?” Torfun asks. ”Coffee? Beer?”

”Um, no thank you,” Tul says.

”I’d like some coffee!” Seetian says innocently.

Phupha snorts. ”Nice try. You’re not getting coffee. It gives you heart palpitations.”

Seetian shrugs. ”Worth a try.”

Tul stares at him and then Phupha. ”So, you know about his heart condition?”

”Heart attack is hard to miss,” Phupha says.

Tul opens his mouth, then closes it. ”Oh. Shit.”

They fall silent again, and when the Jeep rolls in with Nam in it, Phupha feels unreasonably relieved.

”Rang said you wanted me here,” Nam says as he sits down. ”Wait. Who are you?” he asks Tul.

”Um. I’m Tul. Tian’s friend,” Tul says. ”Who are you?”

Nam’s brows shoot up. ”I’m Nam, the village’s doctor,” he says as he glances at Phupha. ”Tian, you said?”

Tul nods. ”Yeah. He’s Tian Sopasitsakun, 21, with a congenital heart condition,” he says. ”And he’s been missing for months.”

”Sopasitsakun…” Torfun says slowly. ”Like the actor?”

Tul shakes his head. ”Nope. Sopasitsakun like the Secretary of the Ministry of Natural Resources and Environment. Literally.” He pauses and looks at Seetian. ”Tian is his son.”

There’s a moment of stunned silence and then—

”Fffffuuuuck,” Nam breathes out with feeling. ”Phu, that’s basically your boss.”

”What?” Tian—because that’s really his name, Phupha thinks, bewildered, he’s Tian Sopasitsakun—says faintly.

”I don’t know about you but I’m way too sober for this,” Nam says, gets up, and gathers a bunch of beer bottles on the table. ”Don’t even think about it,” he adds, pointing at Tian. ”You don’t get a beer, you have a heart condition.”

Tian rolls his eyes but it’s a bit forced. 

Everything feels a bit forced.

Phupha takes a deep breath and then says, ”Start from the beginning.”

Tul takes a pull from his bottle. ”Which beginning would that be?” he asks. ”Tian and I have known each other since we were kids. First we were neighbors, later we were just, you know, friends. Our families are in the same circles. Money circles, I mean. Not politics.”

”So you’re a pair of rich kids,” Nam says.

Tul shrugs. ”Yeah. Tian got his first heart thing when he was nine, chest pains and palpitations and something like that, and the other kids mostly abandoned him.” He shrugs again. ”I didn’t. We went to school together. We played games together. We had crushes on idols and actors together. He has a drawer in my closet and I have a drawer in his.” He shoots Tian a helpless smile. ”You’re my brother, Tian. And I don’t really care if you don’t remember it. I can remember for you.”

Tian tilts his head slightly and frowns. ”Did you…did you have a pink turtle?” he slowly asks with a faraway look in his eyes.

”Yeah,” Tul exhales with a smile and his voice sounds a bit wet. ”You gave it to me when I turned seven. His name is Fluffy and he’s hideous.” He glances at Phupha and adds, ”A stuffed toy. Not, you know, an actual pink turtle.”

Tian smiles at the confirmation but the faraway gaze stays on. His face is mostly blank, a look Phupha doesn’t especially like. He’s gotten used to Tian’s easy smiles and the slightly lost expression on his face makes something clench inside Phupha.

”The turtle sounds fascinating,” Nam says, raising his brows in a way that clearly tells Tul to get on with his story. 

Tul glances at Tian again. ”We were out. Partying. Yeah, I know, he shouldn’t have but…Tian can be pretty persistent when he so chooses. If I said no, he would’ve gone by himself. I thought that if I went with him, I could look after him.” He drops his gaze to his lap and swallows. ”A lot of good did it make.”

”What happened?” Phupha asks.

”We had a private booth at a—” He pauses and bites his lip, glances from Tian to Phupha and to Nam. ”Look. It was a gay club.” He looks straight at Tian. ”You’d told me a couple of weeks earlier that you thought you were gay and you said you also told your parents and that they were ’mostly okay.’ Knowing your parents, that might mean pretty much anything from saying ’Don’t be silly, sweetheart,’ to buying you condoms and lube.”

”So they aren’t homophobic?” Torfun asks, then she winces and backtracks, ”I mean…I was just wondering if it had anything to do with Tian’s disappearance.”

”In private? Tian’s mom definitely cried but that’s how she usually deals with stuff like this. According to Tian, she cried when she finally got her hands on some fancy vase she’d been eyeing for months, and she cried when Tian’s dad hired a new gardener because she was so invested in your old gardener’s wedding plans.” Tul shakes his head. ”So, no, I honestly don’t think they’re homophobic in private. In public, though…” 

”His father’s job,” Torfun says quietly.

Tul makes a face. ”Yeah. Tian, you talked about it pretty openly even though I’m sure you knew that if the wrong people heard it, it might resonate badly with your dad’s connections.”

”Did it?” Phupha asks.

”I mean…it’s possible?” Tul says, making vague, helpless motions with his hands. ”Maybe? Anyway, I went to the bathroom and when I got back, you were gone. You’d been flirting a lot that night and—” he winces. ”I thought you’d found someone to—well—you know. Sorry.”

Tian shakes his head slowly without looking at him and takes a sip from his tea mug. 

Phupha has to stomp on the urge to draw him into his lap because Tian shouldn’t look that small. Instead, he asks, ”When did you realize something was wrong?”

”The next day. Tian and I have what my mom calls a co-dependent relationship and she’s only half joking. When I didn’t hear from him, I tried to call but it went straight to voice mail. Later that day, same results. Messages sent, unseen. And then his mom called me. 

”She’s been pretty protective—or, well, they both have been—ever since the heart condition diagnosis and I get it. You’ve always been her baby,” he adds, looking at Tian. ”Anyway, she called and asked if you were with me. I told her I hadn’t heard from you since the previous night.” He rubs a hand over his face. ”Long story short, and I don’t even know everything, the club’s surveillance was a bit sketchy especially around the private booths because, you know, privacy, and I think the only footage they got was from some grainy security camera from a store on the other end of the block.”

”Showing he was kidnapped,” Phupha says tightly.

Tul spreads his hands. ”Showing a bunch of masked dudes bagging and yanking someone wearing similar clothes as Tian into a dark van with no plates,” he says. ”Nothing concrete.” He downs his beer and Torfun silently hands him another.

”I have no idea what happened, who they contacted, or who contacted them but when I went to your house a week later and asked about you, your mom started to cry. They’d gotten a ransom note with some instructions but nothing happened even though they did exactly as they were told. There was no follow-up note. Nothing. No evidence of where you were, no proof of life, nothing. And it totally wrecked your mom. Like. Totally.” He falls silent and fiddles with the label of his beer. 

”A week later,” Nam says. ”As in…”

”About three months ago,” Tul says.

Nam and Phupha share a look. About three months ago—

”That’s when you found me,” Tian whispers. He’s still not looking up, gripping his tea mug so hard his knuckles are white.

”Yeah,” Phupha says.

Tul takes a pull from his bottle. ”Then your mom started talking about how much she missed you when you were on your overseas trip. I have no clue if it was because some security consultant told her to do it or if she refused to believe you were dead. And then, one day, my mom showed me her friend’s vacation photo album on Facebook and I saw your face in a couple of them.” 

He gives Tian the flyer he’d shown Phupha and Torfun earlier and Tian takes it, stares at it mutely as Tul says, ”You’re dressed differently and your hair is different but dude, I’d know you anywhere!”

Phupha wonders what it looks like to him; a zoomed-in photo of blurred people in the front and Tian in the background, laughing and cocking his head at Phupha who has his back to the camera. Phupha is in his civvies and Tian is wearing what has become his favorite costume: soft canvas pants and Longtae’s old, traditionally embroidered shirt. 

He looks beautiful.

Suddenly, Tian stands up so fast that his plastic chair topples but he doesn’t seem to realize it. ”I need—I need to—I’m—sorry—” he stammers and rushes out, heading to the backyard.

”I’ll…” Phupha says, already moving. He hears the other talking behind him but he doesn’t pay them any attention. His priority is Tian.

Tian, who’s pacing back and forth next to the fire pit, hugging himself. He looks close to tears, and that’s all Phupha needs to draw him in a hug.

”It’s stupid,” Tian mumbles. ”I’m stupid. Stupid stupid stupid.”

”Sure,” Phupha says.

Tian bangs his head softly on Phupha’s chest. ”Asshole,” he mutters, but doesn’t move away. Phupha gives him time to think, and after a long, long while, Tian lets out a breath. ”I know I should be happy,” he says slowly. ”I know now who I am. I know where I’m from and I know where my home is. And my parents. But—” he stops and swallows. ”I don’t know if I like any of it. Chief—”

”That’s just part of who and what you are,” Phupha says softly. ”You’re not the same person you were four months ago. I’m not the same person I was four months ago. Hell, Nam isn’t the same person he was two weeks ago because we’re human. We grow. We change.”

”Yeah, but—”

Phupha waits but when Tian doesn’t continue, he sighs. ”It’s just information, Seetian,” he says, using the nickname on purpose. ”What you do with it is your choice.”

”But what if I don’t want to choose?” Tian whispers.

Phupha has no answer so he says nothing.

He already feels like Tian is slipping away from him and the mere thought fills him with dread.

Tian sleeps badly that night, flinching awake every couple of hours or so which means that Phupha is awake for most of the night as well. They both are bleary-eyed and subdued in the morning, wordlessly leaning into each other’s space. Phupha sees Tul’s brows jump up but he doesn’t comment. Phupha is grateful—he isn’t sure Tian could handle the attention right now, no matter how well-meaning it would be.

It’s Sunday which means there’s no school but Tian still wants to take Tul to see the school building, letting him see the everyday life he’s been leading in Phapundao. Phupha stays with them, partially to supervise, partially because he can’t bear the thought of being away from Tian. He doesn’t know how long they have until Tian leaves and the uncertainty is like a vibrating tether from his gut to wherever Tian is.

He wonders if he’ll ever learn to live alone after Tian is gone.

”Would it be okay if I took some videos?” Tul asks suddenly. ”If I don’t reveal the location and turn off the GPS,” he says and immediately fiddles with his phone, ”—and if I make sure Tian’s face is the only visible one, would it be okay?”

”As a proof of life?” Tian asks slowly.

”Well, yeah, that too, but I was actually thinking about your mom,” Tul says bluntly. ”Pictures would be nice for sure, but showing her a video of you talking about, um, I don’t know, kite flying? Teaching math to kids? That would show her more about you, let her see you’re alright. You could say something to the camera but you wouldn’t have to.”

Tian glances at him. ”What do you think, Chief?”

”I think it should be fine,” he says. ”But I’ll ask Khama—that’s the village chief,” he adds to Tul. ”Just as a precaution.”

”Great!” Tul says with a wide smile. 

They stand in awkward silence for a moment. Phupha is about to suggest they get some lunch when Tian says, ”Could we go to the waterfall?”

Phupha nods and beckons them to follow. He walks ahead at a leisurely pace, keeping an eye on their surroundings and an ear on Tian and Tul as they talk about hobbies, favorite foods, swimming, cars, and birds. It’s obvious that even though Tian doesn’t really remember Tul, something about his easygoing nature helps Tian to relax. Or perhaps it’s about body memory—Phupha remembers reading about it at some point. 

”But…what happened to you?” Tul asks when they reach the waterfall. He and Tian sit on a felled log while Phupha steps a bit to the side to give them privacy. 

”I don’t know,” Tian says.”I woke up at Dr. Nam’s clinic and then I moved to the ranger base.” His voice is soft and subdued when he adds, ”They said they found me just lying naked on the ground, unconscious and hypothermic.”

”Were you…you know…” Tul’s voice trails away into an awkward pause. ”Um—”

”Abused?” Tian interrupts quietly. ”Physically, yes. Sexually…I don’t know. Apparently not.”

”Apparently?” Tul echoes, his voice squeaking a bit.

There’s a light rustle so Phupha assumes Tian shrugged. ”I was gone for about a month before they found me. That’s a long time.”

”Oh. Right. Yeah,” Tul stammers.

They fall silent for a moment and then Tul asks, ”Can I hug you? Or would that be, um, not good?”

”Why would it be not good?” Tian asks, sounding genuinely confused.

”I mean—I read about how touch can, I don’t know, trigger a panic attack or something—I don’t want to make you feel—If you don’t like it, I’d rather not hug you at all!”

Phupha decides that he likes Tul.

After careful consideration, Khama gives Tul permission to take videos with the condition that he only shows Tian’s face and they remove clear signs of the village’s location from the frame. That means maps and some paintings at the school, only a generic nature background, and absolutely no videos of the village or the ranger base. Tul shows the videos to both Khama and Phupha for approval, which earns him even more points in Phupha’s eyes.

Tul is understandably eager to hurry back to Bangkok to let Tian’s family know he’s alive. After coming up with a plan of how and where to contact them, he jumps into his SUV, and with a final wave, follows Yod and the jeep down the mountain.

Next to Phupha, Tian lets his hand fall down and then he turns, walks straight into their shared room, and closes the door behind him. 

”Go,” Torfun says softly.

When he opens the door, Tian is curled on the bed with his back to the door. Without a word, Phupha closes the door and kicks off his boots, crosses the room, and sits on the edge of the bed, making a face when it squeaks. Tian looks tense enough to almost vibrate where he lays and he flinches when Phupha gently grips his shoulder.

”What’s going to happen next?” he asks tonelessly.

”I don’t know,” Phupha says. ”But I’d assume your parents would want to see you.”

Tian’s breath hitches. ”What if—” he starts and then falls silent, curling even more into himself.

”Tian,” Phupha says and then curses silently as Tian twitches. ”Seetian,” he corrects, softer. ”I don’t know what will happen or when,” he says. ”But you’re not alone. I’m here, and Nam, and Torfun, and the kids, the villagers. You’re not alone.”

”But what if they make me leave?” Tian whispers. ”I have a mom and a dad. And a sister. And she has a kid—I’m an uncle?” he chokes up and turns around to stare at Phupha with wide eyes. ”I have a family and I don’t even know what they look like!”

There’s nothing Phupha can say that would make things better but he can absolutely do something. He lays down next to Tian and lets him curl close, press his face into the space under Phupha’s chin. His unsteady breathing puffs against his throat and it comes as no surprise when Tian starts to cry.

”What if they make me leave?” Tian repeats between sobs. ”What if they take me away and I can never see any of you again? What the fuck am I supposed to do in some rich people’s house I don’t remember?”

Phupha would love to tell him it won’t happen. He’d love nothing more than to cup Tian’s face and tell him that he won’t allow it and that Tian could be taken away only over Phupha’s dead body. 

But he doesn’t make promises he can’t keep. 

The cold, hard truth is that Tian’s father absolutely has the power to both take Tian away and make everyone’s life extremely difficult—and that’s even without Tian’s amnesia. His medical condition means that if they wanted, Tian’s parents could argue he’s not fit to make decisions regarding his own health and well-being, and unable to give fully informed consent to stay.

”I don’t want to leave,” Tian mumbles, sounding both exhausted and resigned.

I don’t want you to leave, either, Phupha thinks and closes his eyes against the prickling threat of tears.

It takes three days for Tul to reach out and tell them that he and Tian’s parents are flying in the next day. Apparently, they’d wanted to rush into the village straight away but Tul managed to convince them to book a room in a hotel and arrange the meeting there on Saturday. Phupha wonders if it’s just a coincidence or if Tul knows exactly how much it means to Tian to have the meeting at a neutral ground.

It’s been a week. A week since they learned who Tian is. 

A week of feeling like they’re running out of time.

It goes without saying that Phupha is the one to take Tian to the hotel but he isn’t even slightly surprised to exit their room early on Saturday morning to see Nam and Torfun leaning on the Jeep.

”Yeah, nope,” Nam says, raising a finger when Phupha opens his mouth. ”You’re the protector, I’m there as his doctor, and Torfun is his emotional support friend.”

Phupha shakes his head and wordlessly jerks his head to make them climb to the cargo bed. The cabin only has room for two this morning which means that if they insist on coming along, they can deal with the less comfy seats.

Tian is quiet on the ride to the town, biting his lip as he gazes out of the window. Phupha keeps stealing glances at him from the corner of his eye but doesn’t know what to say. Not to worry? That everything would be alright? He can’t say what he doesn’t believe to be true so he decides to say nothing and concentrates on the driving.

Tul is waiting for them in the lobby, a relieved smile on his face when they walk in. ”They wanted to come down but I told them it would be better like this.” He pauses and ducks his head a bit. ”It’s good to see you, Tian. Can I hug you?”

Tian nods and awkwardly hugs Tul back. Phupha mouths a thank you over his shoulder.

”So, there are three people up there waiting for you,” Tul says as he leads them to the elevators. ”Your mom and dad, obviously, and Pat, your dad’s bodyguard slash driver. He’s known you for your whole life—your mom once told me he even changed your diapers when you were a baby…”

Tul’s easy chatter fills the tense space around them, making the wait a little easier. Phupha is increasingly convinced that Tul has spent the past couple of days furiously googling instructions on how to talk and move around an abuse victim with possible PTSD. It makes him relieved and happy for Tian—he deserves a friend who cares about him as much as Tul does.

Tian’s parents have booked a suite on the top floor and the elevator brings them right next to its door. Tul knocks on it three times and then uses a key card to open it. ”It’s us,” he announces and beckons them inside.

The suite is as lavish as you could expect from a hotel of this level but to Phupha, it’s all background noise to the people inside. In an armchair sits a woman with her hair in a ponytail, wearing pearl earrings, a pale shirt, and a scarf around her neck, her hands pressed on her mouth. Behind her, stands Mr. Sopasitsakun with his other hand gripping tightly on his wife’s shoulder, jaw gritted so hard Phupha can see it from the doorway. 

Phupha has seen the official portrait of the Secretary of the Ministry of Natural Resources and Environment. This man bears little to no resemblance to the stern-looking man in a suit.

”Tian!” Mrs. Sopasitsakun gasps through her fingers. 

”Um,” Tian says. ”Hi?” He looks at his parents and then at Phupha, visibly at a loss.

”Ah, introductions,” Tul says. ”This is Chief Phupha Viriyanon, and Doctor Nam Wasan Suthikul, and Miss Torfun Chareopon—she’s the village’s volunteer teacher and Tian has been working with her and the kids during his stay. Everyone, these are Lalita and Teerayut Sopasitsakun, Tian’s parents.”

They exchange bows and awkward greetings and then the room falls into uncomfortable silence. Then Torfun clears her throat lightly and says, ”How about we go to the market? It’s Saturday and it’s always bustling at this time of the day. It’s a lot of fun and one of Tian’s favorite things to do during weekends.”

”That sounds like a wonderful idea!” Mrs. Sopasitsakun says, slightly forced, slightly on the side of overly cheery.

To Phupha, she sounds like someone who would agree to just about anything to keep Tian in her sights.

It takes no time at all for the aunties at Tian’s favorite stalls to call out and ask how he’s been. To Phupha, watching Tian’s smile turn from forced to genuine is almost as interesting as seeing the look on his parents’ faces. It’s achingly clear they don’t know how to react to any of this—how to fit the Tian they know into the shape of this Tian they’ve now been reconnected with. It’s in the frown between Mr. Sopasitsakun’s brows and on the baffled but polite smile frozen on Mrs. Sopasitsakun’s face. 

With Torfun’s gentle coaxing and Tul’s not-so-subtle questions, Tian opens up and starts telling about what he enjoys doing at the market, and a short while later, they’re talking animatedly between them. Phupha trails after them, too intent on watching Tian for the signs of discomfort to realize Mrs. Sopasitsakun has drawn to his side.

”According to Tul, we should thank you for everything you’ve done for Tian,” she says.

Phupha glances back, sees Nam engrossed in a conversation with Mr. Sopasitsakun, and shrugs. ”Members of my team found him but it’s really been the whole village. Tian is very easy to like and he’s wrapped everyone around his little finger.”

”Hm,” Mrs. Sopasitsakun says. ”Still. Caring for someone you don’t know…”

”It was the right thing to do,” Phupha says. Then he narrows his eyes, taking in the way Tian sways slightly. ”Excuse me,” he says before hurrying to Tian’s side.

”What?” Tian says as Phupha takes his arm and gently steers to the shade.

”Sit down,” Phupha says just in time as Tian’s knees give out. He helps Tian sit down and holds his hand as Nam hurries to take his pulse, muttering under his breath, ”Too much fucking stress.”

Phupha is barely aware of the commotion around them as he gives Tian his sublingual tablet and then leans closer, cups his face to block out the noise as he gasps air in tight, short huffs. Tian’s hold on his forearms is tight and trembling as he stares into Phupha’s eyes—but it’s good, it means he’s conscious, he’s here. 

Little by little, with Phupha’s steady, murmuring instructions, Tian’s gasps even out until he finally goes limp, closes his eyes, and leans his forehead against Phupha’s.

”I hate this,” he whispers.

”I know,” Phupha says. 

”Are you alright, sweetheart?” asks the elderly auntie whose stall they’ve been blocking.

Tian doesn’t open his eyes. ”Just a dizzy spell, auntie,” he says lightly.

”That’s one hell of a dizzy spell,” she replies. ”A good thing you have your young man to take care of you.”

”Yeah,” Tian says.

…and that’s when Phupha remembers that Tian’s parents are right there.

The walk back to the hotel is, if possible, even more awkward than their first moments in the same room. Phupha flatly refuses to let Tian walk so he’s carrying him, all the while intensely aware of his parents’ eyes on the nape of his neck despite Tul’s best attempts to distract them. In the hotel, he lays Tian on the bed and leaves him at Nam’s tender mercies to wait for the doctor Mr. Sopasitsakun insisted on calling.

”That looks like you’ve done it before,” Mr. Sopasitsakun says.

Phupha nods, crossing his arms on his chest and looking back at Tian trying feebly to slap away Nam’s hovering hands. ”He had a heart attack some weeks ago. We learned the hard way.”

”Oh,” Mrs. Sopasitsakun gasps, pressing her hands on her mouth.

Mr. Sopasitsakun clears his throat and then asks in a low voice, ”Chief Viriyanon, I have to ask: have you slept with my son?” 

Phupha turns slowly to give him an incredulous look. ”I’m sorry?”

”Teerayut, for Heaven’s sake!” Mrs. Sopasitsakun hisses, slapping Mr. Sopasitsakun’s shoulder. ”I’m sorry, Chief Viriyanon,” she says apologetically. ”It’s just—Tian told us a couple of weeks before his disappearance—” she stops, looking uncomfortable.

Phupha swallows down an angry retort. ”I’ve slept with him, or more like he’s slept on me a couple of times after a nightmare, nothing more,” he says and adds coldly, ”I don’t have a habit of taking advantage of helpless people.”

”That’s—I didn’t—” Mrs. Sopasitsakun starts, sounding genuinely distraught.

”Excuse me,” Phupha interrupts, knowing he’s being rude and suddenly too tired to care. He wants to get out of this room, away from these people, but at the same time, he doesn’t want to leave Tian. So, he compromises and walks to the balcony, leans on the railing, and for a moment just breathes.

A short moment later, he hears steps. When he pushes himself to stand up properly and turns, he sees Mrs. Sopasitsakun.

”I don’t know how to do this,” she says quietly. When Phupha opens his mouth, she raises her hand and says, ”Please, let me talk.”

He nods, settles back to listen.

”I—” She frowns and clasps her hands together. ”I always thought I knew how our life—his life—would go. Tian would study and graduate and find a girl and start a family. I never thought I’d need to revise that plan to start with, Tian lives to be an adult or even Tian lives. And then he told us he’s—” She pauses, takes a deep breath and lets it out. ”How old are you, Chief Phupha?”

Slightly bemused, he says, ”I’m turning 32 next month.”

She nods. ”So. Our son tells us he’s gay. Two weeks later, he disappears only to surface as if by a miracle over three months later in a Northern small town, and he has with him a tall, strong ranger who is over a decade older than him.” She looks at him with imploring eyes. ”Can you really blame us for being concerned?”

He shakes his head and closes his eyes. ”Of course not,” he says tonelessly and turns to gaze down from the balcony again. He fully expects her to leave it at that—she’s made her point clearly enough—so he startles when she steps to stand next to him.

”But I’ve also never seen him look like that. The joy on his face in the videos Tul showed us. The trust he has in you.” Her voice catches. ”And it breaks my heart that he had to go through something that awful to be happy.”

There’s a knock on the doorframe and Nam says softly, ”Phu, he’s asking for you.”

Phupha turns around, ready to go inside but Mrs. Sopasitsakun’s hand on his arm stops him.

”Chief Phupha—” she starts, looking pained.

He offers her a bland smile. ”I know. You won’t allow him to stay,” he says quietly. 

As he makes his way back to Tian, he pushes her hurt frown from his mind.

Turns out that Tian has, apparently, been having an almost continuous heart attack going on since the day he fainted in the field. (It’s actually a bit more complicated than that but it’s what Phupha’s mind latches on. Continuous heart attack. Fuck.) His condition is fragile enough that he needs to be immediately admitted which, while understandably imperative, is also devastating. 

”But…what about the kids?” Tian asks. ”Chief Khama? The aunties? Longtae? Yod and Rang and everyone else?”

”They’ll understand,” Phupha tries to reassure him.

”Would you like to make a video for them?” Torfun suggests. ”You don’t have to tell them the whole truth, just that your heart needs closer monitoring right now.”

So that’s what Tian does. He records a couple of videos, one for the kids, one for the rangers, one for the villagers, and he does that while holding Phupha’s hand in a vice grip. He finds it in him to smile for the kids but that’s where his good cheer ends. When he’s done, he sighs and leans his head on Phupha’s shoulder.

”I want to go home,” he whispers. ”With you.”

Phupha closes his eyes and swallows. He’d love nothing more than to take Tian home but—

”Tian, the ambulance is here,” Mrs. Sopasitsakun says softly. 

Tian wants Phupha to help him on the stretcher and when he’s about to take a step back, he grips Phupha’s collar and yanks him down to kiss him. And then— then he’s gone, wheeled out of the room, and it feels like Phupha’s heart went with him. 

Mrs. Sopasitsakun starts to follow but then she pauses and turns around, walks to Phupha.

”Chief Phupha, I have a question,” she says. ”What did you mean when you said you knew we wouldn’t allow Tian to stay?”

”What?” Phupha asks.

”Because I have a feeling we’re talking about two very different things,” she says and cocks her head, expectant.

Phupha shrugs, helpless and confused. ”I—he’s your son. He’s the son of a government official who is also my boss.”

”Yes, and?” Mrs. Sopasitsakun says.

”And I’m a forest ranger.”

Mrs. Sopasitsakun frowns. ”I still don’t understand.”

Phupha closes his eyes and takes a breath. ”Mrs. Sopasitsakun. Your family—Tian’s family—is rich. I’m not. You are influential. I’m not. You live in Bangkok. I live in a small village outside of most modern comforts. We’re nothing alike.”

Something flashes in Mrs. Sopasitsakun’s eyes. ”Ah,” she says. ”And I assume you think that I’m so small-minded that I’d rob my son of the happiness he’s clearly found after the terrible ordeal he’s been through? That I’d tell him that the security and comfort he feels with you is irrelevant solely based on your annual income?”

Phupha ducks his head and shuffles his feet slightly, feeling fidgety under her cold stare.

And then she shakes her head and lets out a small sigh. ”Honestly, if we had this conversation a year ago, that would’ve been my reaction. But now?” She pauses for a moment and waits for Phupha to look at her. ”We’re taking him to Chiang Mai. Teerayut wanted to fly him back to Bangkok but I said no.”

”Why?”

She raises a brow. ”Tian needs a transplant to live. Chiang Mai has one hospital that does heart transplant surgeries while Bangkok has over twenty—and also the specialist Tian has seen since he was diagnosed.” She sighs. ”Chief Phupha, I might be overprotective but I’m not heartless. While I would prefer to have my son closer to home, we can arrange things so that he stays closer to you. Because it’s glaringly obvious to both myself and Teerayut how much you mean to him. I—” she chokes a bit, blinks a couple of times, and composes herself. ”I just got him back. I’m not willing to lose him over something as trivial as this.”

”Lalita, we need to go,” Mr. Sopasitsakun calls from the door.

”Just a moment, dear,” she says over her shoulder. ”Chief Phupha, give me your phone.”

Bemused, Phupha hands it over, then fumbles slightly when she asks him to unlock it. She taps in a number and calls, then checks her own phone and nods, satisfied. ”Thank you. I’ll message you from the car.” She seems to hesitate a moment before she reaches out and cups his cheek. ”Take care of yourself, Phupha.”

And then she turns and walks briskly to the door without looking back. Mr. Sopasitsakun looks at her, then at Phupha, and nods.

And then they’re gone.

All of them.

And it’s only Phupha, Nam, and Torfun in the empty suite.

Phupha doesn’t comment when Nam stops at the Jeep’s driver’s door and silently holds out his hand. He merely hands over the keys, rounds the car, and climbs to the passenger’s side. He leans his temple against the cool side window while Nam and Torfun talk in a low voice, and closes his eyes. 

Nam opens the driver’s door, hops in, and slams the door shut. ”Torfun stays for the night,” he says. ”She has something something something, I didn’t pry.”

”Mn,” Phupha comments without opening his eyes. 

”Phu—” Nam says and then stops. 

”Yeah,” he replies.

With a sigh, Nam starts the car.

They’re barely out of the block when Phupha’s phone vibrates, once, and a moment later a second and third time.

>>This is Lalita, Tian’s mother. 

>>Tian is currently at the ER. He’ll get bloodwork done before we head to Chiang Mai. He’ll be admitted to the cardiological ward to wait for the transplant.

>>I’m staying in Chiang Mai, Tian’s father will return home. I’ll update you on Tian’s condition and care plan when we know more. I know the cell reception over there is weak so don’t worry about replying immediately. This is my personal phone, you can reach me from this number at any time.  

”Is that his mom texting you?” Nam asks.

”Yeah,” Phupha says. ”She says they’re taking some tests before transferring him to Chiang Mai.”

”Not Bangkok?”

Phupha shakes his head. ”No. Apparently, Mr. Sopasitsakun wanted that but she said no.”

”Hm,” Nam says. ”Sounds like she’s on your side?”

”I guess so,” Phupha says softly.

<<Thank you. If he’s awake, say hi from me.

He stares at the message for a moment, and then deletes the second sentence before pressing send.

A moment later, his phone vibrates again.

>>He’s asleep now.

Attached to the message, is a picture of Tian curled up on a hospital bed, wearing hospital pajamas, hooked up in several lines. He looks vulnerable and fragile, and Phupha feels both better and worse looking at him, and then feels terrible for even thinking like that.

The ride home is quiet. Nam leaves him to his thoughts and after the picture, his phone stays silent. He wonders if Tian will be transferred by an ambulance or a helicopter, and then he wonders why the hell he’s wondering about it. He feels Tian’s absence like a persistent ache and dreads the empty room he’ll be facing back at the base. 

He should’ve known this.

He should’ve been prepared.

He has no clue how he could’ve prepared for this.

Time passes in fits and starts. Phupha’s duties keep him busy enough and he tries to occupy the more quiet time with paperwork, evaluations, inspections, and inventory. 

And yet, in some way, he feels like his life is defined in bursts of messages that manage to come through when the coverage allows. Short notifications like ”We’ve arrived,” and ”All his bloodwork is as good as can be expected, considering his overall situation,” and ”We flew the specialist in and according to him, Tian’s time with you was probably beneficial to his condition.” Phupha isn’t sure what to reply to Mrs. Sopasitsakun so he doesn’t.

He hopes she understands.

Four days later on his morning run, he gets a new message from an unknown number.

>>it’s me! 👋

Attached is a selfie where Tian reclines on a balcony, wrapped up in a colorful quilt, and hooked into a monitor.

He’s not sure when Tian sent the messages and it makes him unreasonably anxious. 

<<Hi! I’m sorry I didn’t reply. Your messages came through only now.

It’s early so he doesn’t expect a reply but it comes almost immediately.

>>no worries, i know how spotty the coverage is ☺️

>>i miss everyone but especially you 🥺

Phupha snorts despite himself.

<<Are you going to communicate on emojis now?

>>of course! 😏 now that i can! 😎😁

Phupha rolls his eyes.

<<How are you feeling?

The reply takes a bit longer this time and he sees Tian start and stop several times. Feeling a bit stupid while standing in the middle of the road, Phupha walks to the shade and sits down, leaning against the tree.

>>i’m mostly okay. i think? but my heart is pretty much finished which means i’m on the waiting list, hospitalized for now, and absolutely forbidden to go anywhere without the monitor. the only exception is showering but then i have to have either mom or a nurse with me. so far i’ve opted to go with the nurse. the food is mostly okay but you’re a better cook

>>i’m so bored, chief. so bored. i don’t really have enough focus to read or watch tv and i just keep falling asleep a lot.  it’s stupid. 

<<It’s not stupid. You’ve been through hell so it’s no wonder that now when you’re in a monitored environment and professional help right there, your body decides it’s safe to stop struggling.

>>wow. your bedside manner could do with some refining

<<I’m sorry

>>i know. i’m just cranky bc i miss you. i can’t sleep properly. i miss our bed.

Phupha stares at the message. ’Our bed,’ Tian wrote. Our bed, our home, our life—it takes him a moment to wrangle his thoughts away from that path and back to the present.

<<I miss you too. And the kids miss you.

>>tell them hi from me! oops, mom says i have to rest now. oh, and mom says hi. i think she likes you

For a moment, Phupha isn’t sure how to reply. Mrs. Sopasitsakun has been very friendly and supportive, way more than Phupha would’ve ever dared to expect. He stares at the message for a good while before typing out,

<<I like your mom, too

He gets back a selfie of Tian and his mom sharing a pillow and wearing similar, tired smiles.

Lab results, tests, floods, a village elder’s death, kids’ drawings, a picture of the sunrise from the hospital balcony, a picture of the sunset from the cliff, a picture of a hideous neon green stuffed octopus from Tul, a picture of the rangers dressed up in silly costumes, ”I miss you,” and ”I hate it here,” and ”I slipped and broke my wrist and now Yod is pissed he needs to pick up some of my responsibilities,” and ”Torfun has a boyfriend,” and ”come take me home please please please i want to come home.”

One day, it hits him that Tian has been out of his life longer than he was in it and Phupha has to sit down for a moment because what if—

Nam gets him roaring drunk that night and manages to record a weepy love confession he then sends to Tian and Phupha is busy first surviving the raging hangover and the soul-deep mortification because apparently, Tian showed the video to his mom.

On a perfectly normal Friday, five months after Tian left, Phupha’s radio crackles to life when he’s returning from an operation.

”Come in, Eagle,” Yod says, sounding cheerful.

”Yeah? What is it?”

”There was a call from Chiang Mai. A good one. They said to get your ass to where you have cell coverage.”

Phupha is very proud of how he doesn’t just take up running but actually finishes the op as per protocol before hurrying to get his phone and head out to the spot that usually has coverage. It takes him half a day and when he’s finally holding his phone, he feels like vibrating out of his skin.

And then the messages start to come in.

>>Tian has a donor!!

>>Prepping for the operation now.

>>wish you were here holding my hand, chief

>>Three hours and counting. I was just told everything is going accordingly.

>>It’s been nine hours. They should start closing him up soon.

>>Tian is out and at the ICU. He’s still sedated as per protocol but everything went well.

>>Tian is breathing on his own.

>>He’s awake!

And then a picture of Tian, wan and tired but smiling.

With a new heart.

Alive.

Phupha smiles as he rolls the Jeep to a stop by the curb. It’s a beautiful, crisp day, perfect for a walk outside or a moment of quiet closeness under a blanket. 

He makes a mental note to ask Tian later.

He’s a bit early so he kills the engine and hops out, rounds the car to lean on the hood as he waits. A steady stream of people enter and exit the hospital’s main entrance; nurses in scrubs, doctors in their coats, people in everyday clothes, patients in their pajamas. Some glance at Phupha and smile reflexively back, most ignore him and go about their day.

It’s been three months since Tian’s surgery. Three months of careful observation, of physical therapy, nutritional therapy, psychiatric nurses and psychologists. Three months of separation on top of the five months they already spent apart when Tian was in Chiang Mai waiting for a new heart. After the first two months, Tian was transferred to the local hospital so that Phupha could visit him on a whim. Or, well, almost on a whim—he still needed to respect visiting hours and Tian’s rehab appointments and manage his own work schedules and obligations but…compared to Chiang Mai, it was practically his backyard.

And now he’s here to take Tian home. 

Finally.

He hears Tian before he sees him, a cheery (lovely, dearly missed) voice calling out his name. He straightens up and feels his whole self relax when Tian emerges from behind a group of chattering students.

And then he has his arms full and he closes his eyes and just breathes.

”Hi,” Tian says as he draws back a bit.

Phupha swallows and leans their foreheads together. ”Hi,” he whispers. He doesn’t dare do more because if he kisses Tian here and now, he can’t stop and they’ll need to move eventually and—

Someone clears their throat pointedly next to them, and Tian huffs, drops his head to lean into the crook of Phupha’s neck.

”Hello, Phupha,” Lalita says, amused. She steps closer, ignores her son clinging to Phupha, and brushes her cheek against Phupha’s. It’s still something he’s trying to get used to, this easy, familial affection she now so freely offers him.

”Afternoon, Lalita,” he says. Her name feels weird in his mouth but he uses it because she wishes so. ”Do you want a ride to the house?”

”Thank you but no. I still have some more shopping to do before I leave and I better take care of it now.” She fusses a bit with Tian’s collar, smoothes his hair away from his face, tutting at the length. ”Well,” she finally says with a slightly wobbly smile. 

”I’ll be fine, Mom,” Tian says patiently but folds easily into her hug anyway. ”I have my medication and we’re heading to the pharmacy to get some extra. I have my written instructions with me, and I have the papers for Doctor Nam. We’ve been over this.”

”Yes, but—” she starts, then stops herself with a small huff. ”I can’t help it.”

”I know,” Tian says. ”But Chief will take care of me, right?”

”Yes—” Phupha says.

”You’ll take care of each other, is that clear?” Lalita interrupts. ”Phupha will make sure you don’t push yourself too hard and that you take your medicine and get enough sleep and food. And you’ll make sure Phupha doesn’t run himself ragged but that he remembers to give himself some time off as well. Yes?”

”Yes,” they answer almost in unison, then glance at each other and grin.

She leans closer and lowers her voice. ”And remember the strict instructions about—about—” She pauses and clears her throat. ”About intimate things,” she finishes with a determined set on her jaw and bright red spots on her cheeks.

Tian groans aloud. ”I have the written instructions! Now go! And make sure you’ll make it to the airport in time or Dad will worry himself sick.”

”Yes, yes,” she says and then draws them both into a tight hug. ”Call me if you need anything. Anything at all!”

Tian’s smile is small, genuine, and full of love. ”Yes, Mom. Safe journey home.”

She straightens her spine and turns, walks with short, precise steps down the street. 

Phupha realizes he’s going to miss her.

”Chief?” Tian says.

”Hm?”

”Let’s go home.”

It’s not the first time Tian has been back. During his rehab period, Phupha drove him to Phapundao a couple of times for a day or two, both to cheer him up and to test out his stamina and physical boundaries. The air in Phapundao is thinner than in Chiang Mai, and even if Phupha drove him everywhere, he’d still need to walk around at least a bit. The test days gave vital information to his team—and Tian himself—on what to expect later.

But being over for a day or two isn’t the same as moving back for good. The test days had an undercurrent of ’what if?’ simmering under the surface, an awareness of time running out. Now, though, Tian is here to stay.

”What are you thinking about?” Tian asks, leaning his head on the headrest and watching Phupha.

”That now I get to wake up next to you every morning,” Phupha says.

”Softie,” Tian murmurs.

”What about you?”

”I feel like I’m coming home, at last.” He falls silent for a moment. ”It’s weird. It’s been ages since I lived in Phapundao but it feels a lot more like home than my real home. Or childhood home, however you want to call it.”

”Understandable,” Phupha says. ”Even though you remember a lot of your life now, Phapundao is a place where you know you lived. Bangkok on the other hand…”

”It feels like a dream. Or memories from someone else’s life.” He’s silent for a moment. ”Mom invited us for a visit.”

”I’d like that. When it’s safe for you.”

Tian glances at him and hums with a small smile playing on the corner of his mouth. He looks beautiful and Phupha has to force himself to look away and concentrate on the road.

Tian perks up when they reach the village and lets out a confused sound when Phupha drives past the fork to the base. 

”Where are we going?” he asks.

”Home,” Phupha says, shooting him a small smile.

”But—the base—”

”Patience,” Phupha says, smiling at the small sound of outrage his evasion earns him.

Their house is just around the bend, barely two kilometers from the base, standing on sturdy stilts, the roof lined with a thick layer of reed and grass, and a patio around the house. There’s a brand new vegetable patch behind the house, flower pots on the steps, and a group of widely smiling people milling in the front, waiting for them.

”What—” Tian says faintly.

It’s a labor of love, a joint effort of the villagers and rangers alike, partially funded by Tian’s parents. It’s close enough to the base for Phupha to come home for the night but far enough to give them privacy.

”Come on,” Phupha says and gets out of the car and walks around it to take Tian’s hand when he seems too flabbergasted to do more than stand next to the Jeep. 

Torfun is the first to greet them with hugs, and then the kids, then Yod, Rang, Nam, Khama, Longtae…it feels like the whole village is there to welcome Tian home.

”This is…for us?” he whispers. ”Really? All of it?”

”Yes,” Torfun says. ”And now, you’re going to lay down and rest while we finish lunch.” She quirks an imperious brow at Phupha. ”That means you, too, Chief.”

”Yes, Ma’am!” he salutes her, grinning at the kids’ giggles.

The inside of the house smells like fresh wood and linen, and the giant bed occupying the room looks ridiculously like a honeymoon setting with the mosquito net and pale grey bed linen. Tian waggles his brows and grins, making Phupha shake his head and snort.

”Come on. We better take that nap or else Torfun will come and tuck us in.”

It feels strange to lie there. It’s a brand new bed and it feels different from Phupha’s old, squeaky one—not bad, obviously, but different. They settle down and get comfortable; Phupha on his back and Tian curled to his side.

”Welcome home, Tian,” Phupha whispers.

He doesn’t comment when Tian shudders and lets out a sound that sounds like a sob.

The first time he saw Tian’s scar was when his team released him for a day visit to Phapundao. Tian’s arms didn’t have a full range of motion yet and he needed Phupha’s help with his clothes. The way he curled slightly into himself and turned half away from Phupha as if he was ashamed of his appearance made his heart hurt.

”No,” he said before he could stop himself. ”Wait.”

The scar was a vivid red, puckered, angry line cutting his sternum in half, and the small marks of staples lining the scar reminded him of a zipper. 

”Does it hurt?” he asked softly, hovering his fingers above the scar.

Tian shook his head. ”There’s no feeling. Around it, yeah, but the scar is numb.”

With a nod, Phupha placed his palms gently on each side of the scar, then slid them carefully to the sides. And then he leaned down slowly and pressed a kiss on the scar, then another, lower this time, and yet another one. Under his fingers, Tian’s skin broke out in gooseflesh and he shivered, so Phupha straightened and helped him with his shirt before looking him straight in the eyes.

”You don’t have to hide from me,” Phupha said. ”Okay?”

”Okay,” Tian whispered.

It’s now been about a month since the first time and while the scar itself hasn’t changed that much, Tian has. Phupha can’t honestly claim he knows how Tian feels about himself and the changes in his body but what he can honestly claim is that it doesn’t matter to him. The scar, and the slowly mending tissue under it, are part of Tian, part of what makes him who he is, part of the almost unmanageable swell of gratitude Phupha feels when he sees his bare chest.

The scar means Tian is alive.

He loves it like he loves Tian, and if he has to remind Tian of this every day, well. That’s a task Phupha will happily do for the rest of their lives.

One day, when Tian’s sternum is fully healed, Phupha will rest his head on Tian’s chest and let the steady rhythm of his new heart lull him to sleep. 

But for now, he’ll settle with holding Tian close and feeling his pulse thrum under his fingertips.

”Okay, lovebirds! Get decent and get out here!” Nam yells from the door, snorting at the middle finger Phupha raises as a reply. ”We have food and I’m hungry.”

They are ambushed right at the door with flower garlands and silly hats and Phupha feels like his face is splitting in half with his smile even when the kids throw petals at them and he accidentally inhales one. Their friends sit him and Tian at the table and serve them dish after dish, all curated as per doctors’ orders to fit Tian’s restrictions. There are toasts and speeches and wobbly smiles and half-hysterical, half-mortified laughter when Nam gifts them with an industrial-sized container of lube, ”For the happy times later, so much later, for gods’ sake please, okay?” At least Nam bothered to check that the kids were out of hearing range before handing his gift over.

It all feels strangely like a wedding celebration. 

In two weeks, Tian will have his first follow-up appointment, and monthly meetings from there on until his team deems it appropriate to lengthen the time between check-ups. It’s the only non-negotiable condition Tian’s parents set for Tian’s life in Phapundao, and it’s a condition Phupha is more than willing to accept. While Tian’s sternum will heal in four to six months and the scar in about a year, it doesn’t mean his healing is done or that they can forget about it. 

Someone died to give Tian a second chance in life. Someone’s heart beats in Tian’s chest, a piece of another person working with his body to keep him alive. It means medication for the rest of his life, restrictions on what he can do, what he can eat, how he can travel. 

It means a second chance for ten to twenty years. Approximately.

That has been harder for Tian to come to terms with—that with a new heart, he can’t just live on without worry. For Phupha, the limited time frame isn’t such a shock, perhaps because he feels like always knew Tian would be in his life only temporarily. And now, instead of a couple of months, he’ll have Tian for a couple of decades—maybe more, if they’re lucky.

”How can you be so calm about it?” Tian asked one day. 

”I didn’t think I could have you at all,” Phupha said simply. ”Now that I do, I’ll cherish each moment.”

(He didn’t say that in his line of work, it’s not given that Tian would be the first to go.)

That night, Tian falls asleep in his arms, spooned snugly against Phupha’s chest. Phupha loves to hold him in any way he can but this is one of his favorites because he can splay his hand on Tian’s chest and feel his heart thrum. 

His team promised to give him the rest of the week off so that he could spend it with Tian without worrying about work. He appreciates the gesture but he’s already sort of resigned to deal with at least something that goes wrong. Because someone always goes wrong—if nothing else, Yod will have a sudden inability to write reports or something.

He huffs slightly and then smiles when Tian lets out a small noise of complaint.

”Sorry,” Phupha whispers and presses a small kiss on Tian’s neck. Then he lets out a contented sigh, tugs the blankets close, and closes his eyes.

Outside, it starts to rain softly, and the gentle patter on the roof of their new home lull Phupha to sleep.