Each culture had its tales of soulmates, fated ones, the ones destined to stand by your side and know you for who you really were. There’s precious little actual evidence of them ever existing as traditional sciences have little interest in what can easily be rebuffed as old wives’ tales and folklore. But in more esoteric and holistic fields, records were kept. There were claims of strangers having uncanny connection and level of intimacy and trust only moments from when they first laid eyes on each other or even since the moment they were born. Some people even said they were able to see those connections, either as auras reaching out and touching their second half or as literal strings tying people together.
Most people didn’t care. They had their lives and their jobs and their friends and if they had instant connection and friendship with someone, hey, that was just a happy coincidence. And that’s how it had always been for Tian: first, he was too busy growing up and then too busy knowing he was about to drop dead any moment, and then…well. Then he got a new heart and he was too busy trying to wrap his head around the fact that he wasn’t going to die.
So, red strings of fate or whatever. He didn’t care. It wasn’t like any of it was real anyway.
…until he saw a faintly glimmering thread looping around his right wrist, stretching gently across the hospital room.
”—say, Tian?”
”Hm?” he asks, distracted, moving his hand gently back and forth. The thread vibrates and sways with his hand, disappearing into…somewhere.
His mom sighs. ”Did you hear a word I said?”
He almost rolls his eyes. ”Sure. Yeah. Whatever you want.”
Mom stares at him for a moment, then lets out a frustrated huff of breath and shakes her head.
It’s been a pattern, lately. Ever since Tian got released from the hospital, Mom has been hovering next to him, being irritating and concerned and overbearing—not necessarily that much different from how she was before the surgery but now it makes him unreasonably angry. He’s not an invalid and he’s not a child, he can take care of himself.
He should be taking care of himself.
Instead, he’s cooped up at home, staring at the wall, and ignoring the thrumming knowledge of the string looped around his wrist.
”Do you want to…talk to someone?” Mom asks.
Tian turns his head slightly to glance at her. ”I’m talking to you, aren’t I?”
”You’re talking at me or around me, if you’re talking at all,” Mom huffs, then pinches her lips together and clenches her hands together. ”I want you to get better. You have a chance now, Tian. Don’t waste it.” She sits for a moment, looking almost like she wants to say something more, but in the end, she just lets out another long breath and stands up, bends to give him a kiss on the forehead before walking out.
It should make him feel at least something.
It doesn’t.
Because Tian has a fucking imaginary string on his wrist and he has no clue what it means.
***
”Your mother and I have been thinking,” Dad says a week later during breakfast as he butters a toast.
Tian stifles a sigh. This sounds great—Dad’s lectures are always a joy and this sounds like a lecture.
”It’s glaringly obvious you don’t want to be here,” Dad continues, takes a bite, and then chews it while staring Tian down.
”Where else would I be?” he asks quietly. ”You’re not letting me leave and Mom keeps following me whenever I take three steps away from the house.” Which is true. After his impromptu road trips and that one time when he spent the night in Tul’s car, they’ve pretty much put him on house arrest—which is super cool considering he’s 21. The only trips out of the house he now makes are either with his mom or sister (when she has time from her baby), or when his parents want to drag him to one of their events to show off their son who has made a ”miraculous recovery” from his terrible illness.
”You know why—” Mom snaps but pinches her lips together when Dad moves his hand in a placating move.
”Tian,” he says, then puts down his toast, pushes his plate to the side, and leans forward. ”Do you have any idea of what you might want to do with your life? No, wait,” he adds, raising a placating hand. ”I’m not trying to be condescending, I’m genuinely curious. We want to help you but if you don’t tell us how, we don’t know where to start.”
”Tian, honey,” Mom says, reaches over the table and grips his wrist. Her hold covers the string and it makes something in him flinch, and Mom’s stricken look tells him he’s too late to curb the reaction. ”I—” she says, then snatches her hand back with a plastered-on smile, and bends her head slightly to take a sip of coffee.
Tian wants to cry or perhaps scream or stab himself in the eye with a fork.
”Where would you want to go?” Dad asks. ”I’m assuming you want to go somewhere, considering the field trips you and Tul have been going on.”
Tian shrugs. ”I don’t know,” he says, feeling vaguely uncomfortable. It’s true that he wants to get out of here but this isn’t how he imagined it would go.
”That’s what we thought,” Dad says. ”Not because we thought you were unable to make up your mind,” he adds somewhat hurriedly, ”but because you’ve never been anywhere by yourself. So…” his voice trails away and he looks at Mom.
”So, we were thinking about Chiang Mai,” Mom says with an awful, fake cheer. ”My sister has a flower shop there and it’s almost season. She could use some help.”
”In a flower shop,” Tian says.
”She has a stable business and she supports herself and two employees. It’s been ages since she’s seen you.”
”What on earth would I do in a flower shop?”
”Whatever Paweena tells you to!” Mom snaps before visibly reining herself in. ”If you hate it there, you don’t have to stay. But—” she lets out a frustrated huff. ”Just give it a try, will you? It can hardly be worse than here.”
Tian looks from her to Dad and back, then shrugs. ”Yeah. Sure.”
”Thank you,” Mom says. She sounds relieved and it makes Tian feel unreasonably guilty.
They don’t talk for the rest of the breakfast and Tian is more than okay with it.
Back in the hospital, two days after he woke up from his emergency bypass turned into a heart transplant surgery, he made the nurses very worried with his questions about a string being tied to his wrist. He stopped with that after a second time they consulted a neurologist, but as soon as he was allowed to move, he tried following it. That ended with Tian peering over the balcony railing, watching the string stretch straight out and fading into nothingness about three meters in.
Mom was hysterical, certain he was about to jump. He was on suicide watch for quite a while after but considering he was out like light most of the time, it didn’t really bother him.
Two weeks after he was discharged, Tian asked Tul to be his driver, and they followed his mystery string for hours, zig-zagging through Bangkok until they hit the freeway that stretched onward to the hazy horizon. Tian rested his arm on the rolled-down window and stared at the string that ran on.
”Yeah, okay,” Tul said and curved the car to a resting stop. ”What’s going on, Tian?”
”Why did you stop?” he asked, only now realizing they’d parked. The string was still calling him on and he had a momentary urge to get out of the car and continue on foot.
”Look. Obviously, I don’t know what you’re going through. I can’t even claim to begin to understand—I have no clue what it’s like to feel my heart give up on me and go through an emergency surgery and transplant and whatnot—but this?” He waved his finger furiously back and forth between them. ”What’s this? Why are we here?”
Tian frowned, glanced at the string now hanging limply along the side of the car, then shrugged. ”I just…felt like it.”
”You just felt like it,” Tul echoed slowly. ”Like what? Driving aimlessly? I mean, sure, I can get behind that—driving aimlessly is fun! But this isn’t that.”
He narrowed his eyes at Tian’s wrist and for a moment, he had the wild idea that Tul could see the string.
”Yeah, don’t think I didn’t see you holding out your hand like someone was pulling you,” Tul continued, then he hesitated. ”…was someone pulling you?” he asked carefully. ”Or something?”
Tian shrugged. Out of the two of them, Tul was the one who was more spiritually inclined, making sure to visit temples and pray and make all the proper offerings. But still, he wasn’t sure what to answer so he said nothing.
Tul shook his head. ”I’m getting us something to eat,” he said, inclining his head at the market on the side of the resting stop. ”Don’t go anywhere,” he said after getting out, sticking his head through the window and leaning on the door. ”I mean it.”
”Yeah, sure,” Tian said, suddenly tired. His chest was aching and he felt a bit light-headed—it was probably a good thing Tul was getting something to eat. He checked his phone to see just how many messages Mom had sent him—his phone had started vibrating against his thigh about seven minutes after Tul picked him up—and sent her a brief, ’With Tul, getting something to eat,’ without reading anything she’d sent.
When Tul came back with several bags filled with snacks, Tian pretended to be asleep, trying to ignore the way he thought he felt the string tugging him back.
***
During their second car ride (two months after the first one), Tian opened the compass app on his phone and checked the string’s direction every now and then. He wasn’t feeling good which cut that ride short which made Tul visibly relieved and Tian feel like the worst friend ever. He tried to make it up to him when they stopped for ice cream but it didn’t really work out as he wanted.
”No, don’t apologize, geez!” Tul said, waving his hands wildly and dropping half of his ice cream. ”You know I’m not that good with all this…this touchy-feely stuff!”
Tian gave him an incredulous look. ”Excuse me but which one of us has been trying to talk about feelings pretty much ever since I came back from the brink of death?”
”And how has that been working out?” Tul asked, his voice rising into a squeal. ”Look—I’m just glad you’re here. You’re my best bro, my friend.” He shrugged, a flush rising on his cheeks. ”I’m just so glad you’re here,” he repeated in a more subdued tone.
”That’s exactly why you should let me apologize,” Tian said softly. ”You’ve been indulging my weird shit and taking care of me even though I don’t deserve it. Especially after—”
”Yeah, no,” Tul interrupted, suddenly serious.
”But—”
”No,” Tul repeated, stubborn. ”Tian, what you said back then? That was shitty. It was hurtful. But you already apologized in the hospital and that’s that.” He set his jaw. ”You thought you were about to die. I thought you were about to die. I’m not holding that against you.”
Tian shook his head and closed his eyes against the sudden burning. ”I don’t deserve you as a friend.”
”Well, sucks to be you because I don’t give a fuck!” Tul said cheerfully and grabbed him in a careful headlock.
They ended up with ice cream all over their faces and clothes but it didn’t matter. It was one of the best days since Tian had woken up.
***
By their third excursion, it was pretty clear the string always stretched North-Northwest. Tian couldn’t figure out why because the only connection he had to North was Mom’s older sister who never visited and whom Tian had last seen when he was about five.
So why did the string want him to go North?
(And right after Tian asked himself this, he very carefully threw himself face down on his bed and screamed a bit into his pillow because now he was adding wants and needs to an imaginary inanimate object that may or may not be tied around his wrist.)
Chiang Mai International Airport is bustling with people and Tian is already exhausted. It’s been well over a year since the operation and he’s been cleared to fly and carry (light) baggage for a while now but it leaves him way more winded than he would’ve thought. The hubbub of the airport makes his head throb which is weird, considering the party boy he used to be before—well. Before.
”Tian!” someone yells from the side and he turns to see a plump woman with salt-and-pepper hair cropped short, dressed in an eccentric mix of traditional robes and crocheted accessories. ”Tian, over here!”
”Aunt Paweena?” he asks as he makes his way to her, bowing clumsily with his backpack straining his posture.
”Psshht, none of that,” she says waving her hand. ”You can call me Paw or auntie, I don’t really care.” She gives him a sharp once-over and tuts, relieving him from his backpack in a flash. ”Lalita told me to tell you to call her as soon as you land, so you better do that or I’ll never hear the end of it.”
”Yes, auntie,” he says, opens his phone, and sends his mom a short, ’Landed safely. Tired. Call you later. Off to aunt Paw’s.’
She side-eyes him from the corner of her eye but says nothing as she leads him through the bustling airport to her car. It’s a bright red, sturdy SUV, both way more practical and flashy than any of his parents’ cars. The insides smell like lilacs.
”I dropped off an order on my way here,” Aunt Paw says. ”Let me know if the scent is too much.”
”It’s fine,” Tian says, leaning his temple against the cool window.
”So,” Aunt Paw says after a moment of silence. ”Did you choose to come here or is this a punishment? I’m asking so that I know what to do with you.”
”I’m sure Mom told you,” Tian says without opening his eyes.
Aunt Paw lets out a noncommittal sound. ”Lalita says a lot of things but she has a penchant for hysterics and catastrophizing. I’d rather ask you.” He turns to give him an incredulous look and she grins. ”Don’t look at me like that. She’s my little sister, I can call her whatever I want.”
”You’re not what I expected,” Tian says.
Aunt Paw snorts. ”Yeah. I bet.” She purses her lips and lets out a huff before saying, ”Your mother and I…our interests are wildly different but over the years, we’ve learned to respect each other’s choices—meaning we keep out of each other’s hair. For example, Lalita cares about appearances a lot more than I do but she’s also married to a man whose status requires that. I don’t give a rat’s ass about how I look and she can’t stand it.” She pauses and tilts her head. ”But there’s one thing we both take seriously and that’s family.”
”Is that the reason I’ve seen so much of you?” Tian asks with a wry grin.
She barks a laugh. ”Actually, yes. Your mom and I would tear each other’s faces off if we spent extended time together on a regular basis and yes, annual meetings count. But I’m the one she calls in the middle of the night when she needs someone to talk to.” She shifts gears and Tian winces at the way the gearbox whines. ”Like a short while ago when she was sure her son was trying to kill himself and she no longer knew what she should do.”
Tian’s grin drops. ”I wasn’t—”
”As I said. Penchant for hysterics and catastrophizing. And apparently, you haven’t exactly been reassuring her you’re mentally stable,” she says dryly and then adds, ”This is us.”
She parks with the carelessness of someone who’s used to driving over objects like curbs or perhaps small fallen trees and the stop jars Tian’s chest with an unpleasant twinge. He grits his teeth to cover his wince and pushes himself out of the car, grabs his backpack, and follows Aunt Paw into a modest house. It’s significantly smaller than his parents’ house but considering Aunt Paw lives there alone, well. It seems just fitting. Aunt Paw shows him around before leading him to a small bedroom on the second floor.
”This is for you,” she says. ”The heater is here and the A/C here, and you have your own small freezer by the wall.”
”Are you going to lay down the house rules next?” Tian quips.
”Do I need to have house rules?” she shoots back. ”Don’t be a little shit, that’s all I’m asking.”
Fair enough, he thinks and offers her a small smile.
”Take a nap, you look like you need one. I’m going to run to the shop to check everything is alright for tomorrow, and I’ll pick up food on the way home. Do you have any allergies? Anything I should know about your diet?” Her gaze flits to his chest and then back to his eyes with a raised brow.
Tian shakes his head and shrugs. ”No extra spicy food and nothing too heavy. Other than that, I’m fine.”
”And no alcohol,” she adds.
”And no alcohol,” he repeats. ”Yeah.”
”Okay then. See you in a couple of hours.”
And then she’s gone, leaving Tian sitting on a sturdy bed, looking at bare walls, and listening to the sounds from the street. With nothing better to do, he flops down on the bed and is asleep bare moments after his head hits the pillow.
***
Life in Chiang Mai slowly starts to take shape around him. Aunt Paw points him where she wants him, whether it’s sweeping the floors, cutting roses to particular lengths, or shelving groceries. He has a distinctive feeling she doesn’t actually need the help but she has him because she promised his mom. It’s okay. Life with her is simpler in many ways compared to his life in Bangkok and he’s more than fine with it.
On Saturdays, he accompanies Aunt Paw to the market where she spends most of her time in what seems like talking shit with other aunties, leaving Tian to helm the stall. He’s slightly nervous about it at first—is he supposed to sell something? What if a customer asks him to tie a bouquet? He has no fucking clue of how to tie a bouquet!—but it soon becomes clear that Aunt Paw just needs someone to be there.
”Oh, for heaven’s sake, boy,” she sighs. ”It’s not rocket science! All you need to do is hand them the flower they want and take their money, bow and say please and thank you. Even a city boy like you should manage that.” Her tone is harsh but her eyes are kind and imploring and Tian is pretty sure that if he finds this whole market stall thing overwhelming, Aunt Paw will figure out something else.
”Yeah, okay, fine,” he says, rolling his eyes. ”I’m a big boy from a big city, I can count to three!”
She snorts. ”Shut up,” she mutters with a smile playing on the corner of her mouth.
In a couple of weeks, the marketplace Saturdays become Tian’s favorite days. Chiang Mai is big but nowhere near as big as Bangkok, and the hustle and bustle of the Saturday morning reminds him of home—in a good way. There are a lot of people, lots of colors and scents and sounds, and after the morning rush, Aunt Paw lets him wander around if he so wishes. Mostly, he makes his way to one of the fruit stalls and sits in the shade while munching whatever the aunties decide he needs that day. Sometimes he reads a book, sometimes he listens to music, and sometimes he just sits and stares into nothing.
Today, he has the journal with him. He’s leafed it through several times—and wasn’t it a shock to realize some of the things described in it happened in this very same marketplace—but this is the first time he’s actually reading. He’s already done with his fruit and is now leaning his cheek on his hand, reading through a section about kite flying when someone stops in front of him and nudges him with their foot.
”Where did you get that book?” that someone—a man—asks, sounding upset for some reason.
”It’s—” none of your business, Tian means to say but his words cling to the inside of his throat as he glances up and sees a faintly glimmering thread looped around the man’s wrist. ”—not really mine,” he finishes instead.
”Then why do you have it?”
”I really shouldn’t,” Tian says, wrenching his eyes from the thread and looks up, meeting unimpressed eyes and a quirked eyebrow.
”And yet…” the man says, waving his hand in front of Tian. The thread dances in the air and for a moment, it almost seems to touch Tian’s thread.
”I have her heart,” he blurts out.
The man freezes. ”I’m sorry, what?”
”Tian, did you water the flowers I told you to?” Aunt Paw calls from a couple of stalls over.
”No, sorry!” Tian yells back as he closes the journal and pushes himself to stand up. ”I should…” he says, pointing over his shoulder.
”Yeah,” the man says slowly, looking at him with a slight frown. ”Or how about you tell me what you meant by ’having her heart’?”
Tian winces, shrugs, and clutches the journal against his chest like a shield. ”I have—had, I mean—a heart condition. A bit over a year ago I collapsed and needed a transplant. It’s—she’s the one—” he says awkwardly, nudging the journal.
”You’re not supposed to have the donor’s information,” the man says slowly.
Tian snorts. ”Yeah. I know. I also wasn’t supposed to be moved to the front of the transplant queue but hey, money can do a lot of things.” He gives the man a hard look, suddenly wanting to defend himself even though he isn’t sure what from. ”I learned months later that she died under my car. My so-called friend had taken my car keys when I collapsed and decided to go for a ride,” he says bitterly.
”Tian!” Aunt Paw yells, sounding genuinely irritated.
”I really have to—” Tian says, taking a couple of steps backward before turning and hurrying toward Aunt Paw’s stall. When he glances back, he sees the man looking after him with a strange look. For one, wild moment, Tian thinks he’s going to follow him, but then he shakes his head and turns to go.
Later that night, Tian digs the journal from his bag and leafs through it again—
—And stops when he turns a page and sees a picture of the man from the marketplace.
Well, shit.
The thing about being rich was that…well. Tian had never really had to think about others other than himself. Whatever he wanted, he got (within reason), and he was free to use his monthly allowance the way he wanted. He was distantly aware that this wasn’t the case for everyone but since all of his friends were of the same social circles, it never really made an impact on him. He had the money to do what he wanted and that pretty much was all he cared about.
Until the surgery.
Right after waking up, his mind was preoccupied with mostly pain, breathing, learning how to walk, the utter mortification of having a catheter in his dick, pain, nightmares about dying, pain, and breathing. Oh, and a fucking imaginary thread on his wrist.
He saw his dad daily when he dropped Mom off or picked her up because Mom was by his bedside all the time, holding his hand and just staring and it made Tian want to do anything else than meet her eyes. Some of his friends popped in but the hospital (and Tian) made them visibly uncomfortable and their visits rapidly dried up. Tian was mostly relieved.
And then there was Tul.
He came in several times a week, sat quietly by his bed when he slept and chatted easily about his favorite sports team or band or game, and never expected Tian’s input. He tolerated it for a while before he had enough.
”Why are you here?” he asked in a strained voice.
Tul gave in a confused look. ”What do you mean? Where else would I be? You are here.”
”But I—”
”It’s okay,” Tul said with a small smile.
”No, it’s not!” Tian snapped. ”I was fucking terrible. I said—”
”I remember what you said,” Tul interrupted in a quiet voice. ”I remember you spiraling, doing more and more outrageous stuff, living like your every day was your last. I remember you picking up a guy in a bar—something you’d never done before—and I remember you looking like you were about to die right after.” He swallowed. ”And then I thought you were going die right in front of me, and all I could think about was that you were going to die thinking I was a homophobic asshole.”
”Tul—” Tian choked out. ”That’s—I never thought that.”
”Good. Because I’m not.” Tul leaned forward and gripped his shoulder. ”I don’t give a fuck about who you sleep with, as long as they’re adult and consenting. But I do give a fuck if you’re doing stupid shit like getting drunk and fucking a total stranger in a bar’s bathroom without protection!”
Tian let out a wet chuckle. ”That was pretty stupid, right?”
”Moronic.”
”Yeah.”
They shared a grin that made Tian feel lighter than he’d felt in ages. Which reminded him…
”Tul,” he started, letting the grin melt down from his face. ”I’m truly sorry for what I said,” he said seriously. ”It was a fucking awful thing to say to anyone but especially you. Please, accept my apology.” He tried to offer him a bow from his bed which…didn’t really work out because he was lying down and also it hurt.
”Stop that, you idiot!” Tul exclaimed, loud enough to make the nurse on the other side of the room look up with a frown. ”Stop trying to move so much! Stupid,” he hissed, leaning over him to fuss with the blanket. When it was in place the way Tul wanted, he sat back down and said without looking at Tian, ”And it’s not like that for me, anyway.”
”What’s not like that?” Tian asked.
Tul shrugged. ”Anything. I’m not into any of that. With anyone.”
”Okay,” Tian said easily, and then he yawned.
”Anyway, so, there’s this band, right?” Tul started, and Tian watched him with a small smile until sleep dragged him off.
***
He didn’t have the mental resources to think much about anything back then but later, after he was discharged and trying to figure out what the fuck he was supposed to do with his life now, after his so-called friends (except for Tul) abandoned him one by one looking increasingly uncomfortable, after he’d realized the shimmering thread in his wrist wasn’t just a medicine-induced hallucination…he had too much time in his hands and too many thoughts to ignore them all.
For Tian to live, someone had had to die. Someone had lost their life to donate Tian a heart that now beat steadily in his chest under the gruesome, ridged scar. It wasn’t the ”miracle” his parents talked about—it was a medical procedure.
Someone had died and their chest had been cut open and their heart taken out and placed in Tian’s chest.
It also occurred to him that it happened surprisingly fast after his collapse.
His mind shied away from the thought because…he didn’t want to think about what that meant. He didn’t want to think how money could exchange hands, how promises could be made, how someone’s life could mean so little, but after meeting his heart surgeon at some event Mom had dragged him into, he just…He just wanted to know, okay?
It was ridiculously easy to search Dad’s office (mostly because Dad couldn’t even fathom the idea of Tian being in there, let alone rifling through his papers), ridiculously easy to locate the folder where Dad had neatly archived everything, all paperwork meticulously in order.
Turned out, someone had died under Tian’s car.
Turned out, Tian’s parents were rich enough to make it go away silently, make it look like the car had been stolen by a stranger.
Turned out, Tian’s parents were rich enough to push Tian ahead in the transplant queue.
Turned out—
A small voice in the back of his head that sounded a lot like Tul reminded him that his parents weren’t monsters, they were just scared to death that they’d lose their child. Apparently, the fact that someone else had had to lose theirs for Tian to live wasn’t that important. For a split moment, he let himself believe that his mom and dad didn’t know—that they were just glad Tian had a new heart, no matter where it came from.
But obviously, that wasn’t true. As if his parents would’ve let the doctors put a new organ in him without thoroughly vetting the source.
Torfun Chareonpon, 24 years old.
The cost of a human life was about the same as Tian’s new luxury wristwatch, and the new heart in his chest beat with blood money.
It made him sick to his stomach.
***
So, maybe checking out the address written down on Torfun’s emergency contact and closest relative wasn’t a smart move but Tian didn’t claim he was making smart moves nowadays. He told himself he just wanted to know—he needed to know who was the person he now owed his life to, this stranger whose heart allowed Tian to live.
Tul wasn’t that thrilled about being his driver to places unknown, let alone to a shabby house with a lawn littered with broken toys, but because he was Tul, he just shook his head and drove anyway. Torfun’s aunt was a charming (not) middle-aged woman with a sneer and permanent nicotine stains on her fingers. She yelled at Tian with a shrill voice, demanding to know where the rest of the money was, surely he should know if he was Torfun’s ex-boyfriend, did he keep it all—he had no right, he wasn’t Torfun’s aunt—
Tian didn’t know what possessed him to snatch the cloth-covered journal from the small box half-filled with Torfun’s stuff, but he said she’d taken his notes and he needed them back, and then he fled the scene.
(Did it make him a terrible person to be relieved Torfun’s aunt was such a horrible person?)
”I’m not going to ask what you did there,” Tul muttered as he sped away at Tian’s urging. ”But whatever it was, I hope it was worth it.”
”Yeah,” Tian said just to say something and gripped the journal in his hands.
He hoped it was worth it, too.
”Why haven’t you ever gotten married?” Tian asks one day when he’s peeling carrots at the sink.
”Your mother thinks a husband would be beneficial to me. I think a husband would either drive me to an early grave or commit a murder,” Aunt Paw says. ”Check the noodles.”
The noodles are fine but Tian stirs them anyway to give his hands something to do.
”Just…not really my thing,” Aunt Paw says.
”Marriage?”
”Husband,” Aunt Paw says dryly.
”Oh,” Tian breathes and concentrates on the carrots.
”What about you?” Aunt Paw asks after a moment. ”Have you thought about any of that?”
Tian bites his lip. This isn’t something he’s been comfortable talking about—no one knows except for Tul and he only knows because of that night at the bar. His parents? No way. ”Sometimes,” he allows after a moment.
”Marriage?” Aunt Paw asks neutrally.
Tian glances at her from the corner of his eye and seeing she has her back on him, he swallows. ”Husband,” he near-whispers as his shoulders rise to his ears without his consent.
Aunt Paw lets out a hum as she rinses the prawns before she moves around Tian to add them to the pan. As she does, she grabs him in a loose one-armed hug and presses her cheek against his for a split moment. It makes his insides warm and his shoulders drop and he ducks his head to hide his wobbly smile.
After dinner, Aunt Paw orders him to make them milk tea and when he hands her the cup, she gives him a piercing look.
”Have you ever been with a man?”
”What?” Tian asks, choking on his tea.
She gives him a flat look. ”Sex, nephew dear. I’m talking about sex. Have you ever had it?”
”I—why—yes?”
”Are you asking or telling me?”
Tian sets his cup on the coffee table and bends down to bury his flaming face in his hands. ”Yes, I’ve had sex, Aunt Paw,” he mumbles.
”Just checking if I need to give you safe sex lessons—”
”No! No need!” he yelps.
”—in case you were unfamiliar with stuff like lube or prostates or—”
”I’m very tired, Auntie, and I’m going to bed now,” Tian says in a loud voice over her and then flees to his room, utterly mortified, and Aunt Paw’s cackling trailing behind him.
When he falls asleep, he can’t quite keep the small grin from his face.
***
On the Saturday market two weeks later, the man is back. He’s leaning casually on the lamppost a short ways away from Aunt Paw’s stall, hands deep in his khaki pants’ pockets, eyes hidden behind shades. He tilts his head a bit when he sees Tian spot him and jerks his head in greeting.
Tian gives him an awkward, small wave and turns to arrange the flowers by the back wall. (They don’t exactly need arranging but it’s better than staring at the man.)
”You’re not from around here, are you?”
Plastering on a smile, Tian turns. ”Nope. What gave me away?”
”Your accent, mostly. And the fact that I’ve never seen you here before.”
”Maybe I usually work on the other side of town.”
The man snorts. ”Yeah, sure.” He tilts his head and is about to say something when Aunt Paw hurries over.
”Tian, you’re in charge of the stall. I need to take Ratchanee to the hospital—she stumbled and fell pretty badly. I think her leg is broken.”
”Where is she?” the man interrupted, his easy manner gone. ”Sorry—I’m a doctor. I can help.”
Tian bites his lip as he watches Aunt Paw lead the doctor away, hoping her friend is okay. Ratchanee is one of the older aunties on the market, a stubborn, tiny woman with a head full of white hair, a wide, gap-toothed grin, and the filthiest sense of humor Tian has ever come in contact with. If someone had told Tian a year ago that he’d flee the kitchen bright red with embarrassment because some old woman told a dirty joke, he would’ve scoffed.
To take his mind off of unpleasant things such as hospitals and dying, Tian picks up a bunch of slightly wilting flowers and starts to weave them into a wreath. He sets it aside every now and then to serve a customer but it’s a good way to spend the time. At some point, he gets a strange feeling of someone staring at him but when he glances up, all he sees are people wandering around, shopping for bread and fruit and pastries and meat as usual. After some time, an ambulance arrives, and not long after, paramedics carry Ratchanee on a stretcher. Aunt Paw follows after them, sees Tian, and hurries to him.
”I’m going with them, will you be alright on your own?” she asks, handing him her car keys. ”Aye and Cha will help you to clear up the stall later.”
”Sure, Aunt Paw.”
Some while after the ambulance leaves, Tian sees the doctor walk slowly past the stall. Next to him is a tall, lean man in camouflage cargo pants and a coffee-colored shirt, hair cropped short. The doctor says something to him and he leans in, showing Tian how his muscles ripple under the shirt.
And then he turns and looks straight into his eyes.
Oh. Shit.
Tian ducks his head and turns slightly to fumble with something or another from a small box of supplies.
(He doesn’t see a pale silver thread that twines itself around both men’s wrists or the other, golden thread, that reaches out for Tian.)
***
Aunt Paw returns late that night, looking tired to the bone but not heartbroken which Tian thinks is a good sign. He hurries to take off her light coat and set a plate in front of her, hesitating a bit about the drink before deciding on a cup of strong, sweet tea to start and something else later, if Aunt Paw so wishes.
”Is Ratchanee okay?” he asks, sitting next to her.
She lets out a sigh. ”I think so, yes. Her leg was broken but it was luckily just her ankle—a hip fracture would’ve been way worse. She’ll be fine.”
”That’s good.”
She eats for a moment without a word before saying out of the blue, ”A nice man, that doctor of yours.”
”What? Who?” Tian asks.
”Doctor Nam?” Aunt Paw says, raising a brow. ”The young man who’s been chatting with you on the market?”
”He’s not my—what?” he yelps. ”How do you know his name? I don’t know his name!”
”He’s a volunteer doctor in the Phapundao village,” Aunt Paw continues. ”Small ethnic minority community, tea farmers. A quaint place—I’ve been meaning to visit but never got around to do that.”
”Okay?” Tian has no clue where this is going.
”They also have a forest ranger base there,” Aunt Paw continues. ”Their chief came to pick Doctor Nam up. Seemed like the strong, silent type. Handsome.”
”What,” Tian says faintly.
”Anyway,” Aunt Paw says cheerily. ”Ratchanee is in the hospital, Phapundao has a teacher position open, and I want a beer.”
”Um,” Tian says and hands her a beer.
***
The next Saturday finds a bewildered Tian staring at the ranger across the flower display.
”You’re Tian,” the ranger says, hands crossed on his chest.
”Yes?” Tian says carefully.
”You have Torfun’s diary.”
”Is this an interrogation?” Tian asks. ”Because this feels like an interrogation.”
”Do you feel like you need to be interrogated?” the ranger shoots back, tilting his head and narrowing his eyes. It makes something hot flush down Tian’s spine.
”On what?”
The ranger shrugs and raises a brow.
Tian squares his shoulders, crosses his own arms on his chest, and gives the ranger a cool look back.
They stare at each other for what feels like hours but that’s probably minutes, until an elderly man comes up and wants to buy a bunch of gerberas for his wife. Tian turns to help him, resolutely ignoring the ranger hovering on the side until the man is gone—except that when he hands the flowers over, he realizes his thread is reaching out to the ranger.
Almost in a daze, Tian exchanges the normal courtesies with his client and then turns to face the ranger. He’s not sure what his face is doing but it’s doing something because the ranger drops his arms to his side, looking slightly worried.
There’s a. Thread. Around his wrist. And it’s reaching out to Tian—
He makes a split-second decision and holds out his hand. ”Tian,” he says.
The ranger blinks and slowly takes it. ”Phupha,” he says quietly.
When their hands touch, Tian feels a strange pulse, almost like a low-energy electric shock shoot down his arm. The ranger’s eyes widen as if he, too, feels something. And when Tian glances down, he sees their threads twine around each other until it looks like there’s one, single thread binding their wrists together.
”So, Tian,” Phupha says, sounding now more conversational than outright hostile. ”Why do you have our late volunteer teacher’s journal?”
”Um,” Tian says. Phupha is still holding his hand. ”I think we should sit down?”
***
It becomes a thing. Phupha visits almost every week, sometimes only to stop by and say hello, sometimes to sit down for lunch and a chat. Usually, he’s alone but sometimes Doctor Nam is with him, waggling his brows exaggeratedly until Phupha rolls his eyes and makes him leave. Tian enjoys their talks—Phupha has a dry, biting sense of humor under his stoic exterior—but he also enjoys the quiet moments when he and Phupha just walk around and talk about birds or books or cooking (turns out, Phupha likes to cook). Tian tells him about how it felt to almost die. Phupha tells him about the phone call that let him know his father was dead. Tian admits he hasn’t been home since he left, avoids talking to his mom, and misses his best friend desperately. Phupha tells him how it felt to lose his mother and how his fellow rangers repeatedly fail at cooking rice and filling their reports properly.
It’s easy.
It’s nice.
It’s—
”Ohh, I see,” Aunt Paw says slyly one day when they’re done closing up the stall with Phupha’s help (a surprise, Tian didn’t ask him to). ”You’re into the strong and silent type.” She nods sagely. ”He looks like he has a lot of stamina.”
”Please stop,” Tian pleads.
(But yes. Tian is into that. Or more like into him. And that’s scary because his first foray into the gay world hadn’t been exactly stellar but also because…well. He’s him. And Phupha is…Phupha. And glimmering threads of fate or whatever aside, he can’t fathom why someone like Phupha would be interested in someone like him.)
The pulsing beat at the club throbbed through his head, making strange auras blink in front of his eyes. He was pretty sure they weren’t the lights but with how his head swung with the booze, he couldn’t be sure.
”Shouldn’t you take it a bit slower?” Tul yelled into his ear.
Tian rolled his eyes. It made him a bit nauseous but he decided he didn’t care. ”Why?”
”You know why!”
Tian scoffed and leaned back against the sticky backrest, letting his head tilt to the side. The air conditioning tickled at his chest and made him shiver slightly despite the humid air.
Over at the bar, an older guy caught his eye, giving him a slow once-over. He was the rugged type and something about him made Tian’s heart beat faster. (Or it might just be the alcohol and his heart condition. Who the fuck knew.) He quirked a brow and raised a glass and Tian raised his own, pouting exaggeratedly when it was empty. The man smiled and leaned to say something to the bartender without taking his eyes off Tian.
Yeah. It was definitely him who made Tian’s heart beat faster.
When the drink arrived, he downed it and stood up, cutting Tul off mid-sentence.
”Tian, where the hell—”
Tian ignored him. He glanced over his shoulder to see the man’s hooded eyes follow him and he waited until their eyes met. Then he raised a brow and walked toward the restrooms.
He’d barely made it into the disability cubicle when the man walked in and followed him, locking the door behind him. ”Hello, beautiful,” he purred, plastering himself on Tian’s back, mouthing his neck. His other hand circled around his chest while the other worked on Tian’s belt, and shoving his pants down the moment his belt and fly gave way. Tian’s cock sprang free and the man chuckled.
”Oh, going commando? Nice.”
His hands left Tian for a moment as he struggled his own jeans down and then he was back, his hot, hard cock grinding against Tian’s ass. He had a momentarily flash of panic his first time having gay sex would be getting rawed in a high-end bar bathroom before the man reached to the side and pumped a handful of lotion. For sensitive skin, Tian read from the side of the bottle, slightly hysterical, and then all thought left him as the man pushed his slicked-up cock in between his thighs with a grunt and started thrusting.
The movement rocked him hard enough that Tian braced his forearms on the wall, pushing back slightly. It clearly did something to the man as he grabbed Tian’s hips and really went to town. It felt pretty nice, dirty and exciting, the hot cock rubbing against his taint and under his balls, the slapping sound and grunting making him light-headed.
”Fuck, you’re so hot,” the man moaned into his ear. He clamped his left arm tightly around Tian’s waist and grabbed Tian’s cock with his lotioned hand, letting his thrusting push Tian in and out of the tight hold until he was panting, his orgasm creeping closer and closer.
”Come on, come on, beautiful,” the man gasped as he started to jerk Tian up properly. ”I want to see you come.” His own movements became wilder, more erratic, and then he went stiff and came, pressing a moan into Tian’s skin as something warm and wet and sticky coated his thighs.
Tian let his head fall forward, just in time to see his cockhead disappear and appear once through the ring of the man’s fingers before he came, spurting over the man’s hand, the wall, and his own shirt. His ears were ringing, making him dizzy and he slumped slightly, trusting the man to hold him up.
”Ohhhyeah...that was nice,” the man said with a smile in his voice. ”You okay?”
Tian swallowed a couple of times before turning to face him. ”Yeah. I’m good,” he said and grinned.
The man nodded and turned to wash his hands and tuck himself back into his jeans. He met Tian’s eyes through the mirror and gave him a slow once-over, his gaze lingering on Tian’s softening cock before he turned and crossed the small space between them to give him a hard kiss.
”See you around, beautiful,” he said with a smirk and sauntered out of the bathroom.
For a moment, Tian did nothing but leaned against the wall and breathed.
So. That happened. Not spectacularly good but also…not bad? Yeah. Okay.
He grimaced at the feeling of the stranger’s come slowly dripping down his thighs, making them sticky and disgusting and he staggered to the sink, wetted a handful of hand towels, and cleaned himself up as well as he could before yanking his pants up.
…just in time for Tul to slam the bathroom door open with an urgent, ”Tian!”
And then he stopped, staring at Tian with his mouth slightly open, wide eyes taking in his appearance.
”Yes?” Tian asked slowly, tightening his belt. As close as he and Tul were, he didn’t exactly revel in the experience of Tul walking in on him with his dick hanging out.
”Did you—did you just have sex in here?” Tul asked, his voice rising into an incredulous squeak in the end. ”With—with that man?”
Tian paused, giving Tul a narrow-eyed look via the mirror. ”Is that a problem for you?”
”Yes!” Tul exclaimed, throwing his hands to his side. ”As should you!”
”Let me get this straight,” Tian said. ”I have sex and you get mad. That’s about it?”
”Well—I mean—”
”Why the fuck is that any of your concerns? I’m not having sex with you.” He added, trying to get the come out of his shirt. Probably a lost cause. He should just get rid of the shirt.
”What’s that supposed to mean?” Tul asked quietly.
Tian frowned. His heart was still beating way too hard and he closed his eyes for a moment, trying to will away the sensory horror of feeling his heart literally trying to push itself through his chest. ”What?” he snapped.
”Tian—”
”Oh come on. It’s not like anyone would pick you anyway, what with the way you hover around me all the time.”
Tul was silent for a moment. Then, ”Fuck you, Tian.” His tone was completely level and there was a certain hollowness in his eyes Tian glimpsed only for a split second before averting his eyes.
”Yeah, whatever,” he replied, suddenly tired. He wanted to be home, and he wanted to sleep, but he didn’t want to go home, and he didn’t want to see his mom and—
He barely made it out of the restroom before his vision started to go blurry as his heart sped up and sputtered and—
His last thought before he blacked out was, Oh ffffuck—
”Would you like to come visit?” Phupha asks.
Tian looks up from his plate, spoon halfway to his mouth. ”The village? Today?”
”I mean, not necessarily today,” Phupha hurries to say. ”Some day. If you want—”
A smile tugs at the corner of Tian’s mouth. ”Okay,” he says easily.
Phupha freezes, something open and hopeful flashing across his face. ”Okay?”
Now Tian is grinning. ”Yeah, okay. This weekend won’t work because Aunt Paw has this thing she’s roped me into but…” he shrugs. ”Any other weekend.”
Phupha ducks his head as if he’s trying to hide his own smile. ”Next week?” he says tentatively, looking up. ”The village chief throws a party for his birthday.”
”Are you sure that would be okay?” Tian asks. ”I wouldn’t want to intrude.”
”I—” Phupha says and turns to look at a kid flapping a toy butterfly with a lot more force than necessary. ”I might have mentioned you a couple of times,” he says.
”Oh. Well. In that case,” Tian says. He feels pleased and hot and squirmy and leans to bump Phupha’s side. ”I’d love to see your home,” he says.
Phupha nods and leans back a bit.
***
”You’re not staying the night,” Aunt Paw says on the Sunday morning next week as she pushes a thermos of tea into his hand. ”And no extensive exercise!”
”Auntie!”
”What? If you’re thinking about sex, that’s your own dirty imagination at work.” She turns to give him an arch look. ”But not what you mentioned sex—”
”I didn’t mention anything—”
”—perhaps not that yet, either.” She pauses to look Tian over with a critical eye and then lets out a noise Tian decides to interpret as agreeing. ”No, but seriously, I mean it,” she continues after a moment. ”The elevation is high and the air is significantly thinner than in Bangkok. Even with your acclimation here in Chiang Mai, that mountain is a stretch to your stamina.” She gives him a serious look. ”If you collapse over there, it’ll take time to get you to a hospital.”
”I know, Aunt Paw,” Tian says patiently. ”I’m not an idiot.”
”No, but you’re a horny young man,” she says calmly. ”And horny men tend to think with their downstairs instead of their upstairs.”
”You are a terrible woman, Aunt Paw,” Tian says.
”I am awesome and you know it,” she declares haughtily.
Tian snorts, and then the doorbell rings and he has to hurry to open the door to Phupha who looks very handsome and gorgeous and kissable in his black jeans and white dress shirt.
”Hi,” he says, feeling suddenly very stupid.
Phupha smiles. ”Hi,” he says. ”Can I come in?”
”Yeah! Sure!” Tian says and moves out of the way, and then they stand in the foyer for a moment in awkward silence until Tian huffs out a small laugh. ”All the things we’ve talked about and now we can’t find anything to say?”
Phupha shrugs, looking slightly sheepish. ”The market is a public space. This is not.”
”You boys better not be defiling my foyer!” Aunt Paw calls out. ”It’s a perfectly nice foyer and doesn’t deserve any of that.”
Tian snorts and beckons Phupha to follow. ”Your foyer’s honor is safe,” he says as they walk into the kitchen.
”Don’t forget your tea,” Aunt Paw says. ”And your sweater. And socks The mountain can get chilly later today, and I don’t want you to catch a cold.” She gives Phupha a sharp look. ”And you better take very good care of him. He has a heart condition.”
”Auntie—”
Phupha nods. ”I will,” he says. ”And I know.”
”I’m right here and I can take care of myself,” Tian mutters. They both ignore him.
”Oh, I almost forgot,” Phupha says, handing Aunt Paw a small pouch. ”Picked this morning prepped to be ready to use. They’re supposed to be very refreshing and light in taste.”
”Hm,” Aunt Paw says, opens the pouch, and sniffs at the content. ”Smells nice,” she says. ”In exchange, this is for the man of the day.” She hands Phupha a small, elegantly tied bouquet she prepared earlier in the morning. ”And now, shoo. I have things to do and you have places to be.”
***
The drive to the village isn’t long but it takes a bit of time, especially when they turn to the smaller mountain road and the battered jeep starts to climb up. Phupha points out birds and trees along the way, tells him stories of both his childhood and his workdays, and Tian drinks it all up. It’s nice even though he’s nervous to meet what is basically Phupha’s family, wondering what they’ll think about him.
When they arrive at the village, Phupha parks in a small clearing a small way from houses and rounds the car to help Tian out (even though he definitely doesn’t need the help). He gives him a small nod and a reassuring smile that goes a surprisingly long way to make Tian feel better.
The village is made of grass-roofed houses on short stilts and adorned with lanterns and flowers. There are people milling around, looking slightly too much like they’ve been mainly waiting for them.
”Chief!” a middle-aged man in a ranger outfit calls out with a wide grin. He nudges the younger man next to him and they jog to where Phupha and Tian stopped to wait.
”Yod, Rang,” Phupha says. ”This is Tian. He’s my guest for the day.”
Tian raises a brow at the inflection of the word ’guest’ but says nothing as Yod laughs and bows. ”Finally!” he exclaims. ”Chief has been talking about you all the time, we thought we’d never get to see the man who caught his eye!”
”Yod,” Phupha says through gritted teeth, a flush rising to his cheeks.
”Oops!” Yod yelps, pressing a hand over his mouth.
”What he means,” Rang says elbowing Yod to the side, ”is that it’s nice to meet you.” He glances at Phupha. ”And as a heads-up, Chief, the kids know you’ve arrived.”
Phupha nods. ”Thanks.”
”Is there a reason we need to be warned about the kids?” Tian asks. ”And should I be calling you Chief, too?”
”Not in public, thank you!” doctor Nam says from behind them. He pushes himself in between them and throws his arms around them both. ”None of us needs to see or hear that.”
”And fuck you, too, Nam,” Phupha says pleasantly, moving away from Nam’s arm. ”Let’s go, Tian.”
Tian says hellos and goodbyes and nice-to-meet-yous to the three grinning men and hurries after Phupha.
”Sorry about them,” Phupha says, not quite meeting his eyes. ”They know how to behave. Usually.”
Before Tian has a chance to reply (honestly, he thought Phupha’s fellow rangers were fun and a flustered Phupha is a cute Phupha), a small horde of children surrounds them snatch, their hands, and drag them to the middle of the village where the rest of the people are waiting.
”Where do you live—”
”Have you been in an airplane—?”
”Are you Chief Phupha’s boyfriend—?”
”Did you really almost die—?”
”Are you a zombie—?”
”Do you know how to sing—?”
Tian turns to look at Phupha who merely shrugs and smiles. Apparently this is normal for these kids, ambushing newcomers with endless questions. Luckily, the flowers Aunt Paw sent are still okay.
”Village Chief Khama,” Phupha says as the kids lead them to a platform and a man wearing a wide smile that crinkles his eyes. ”This is Tian.”
”Ohh…now I understand,” Khama says and winks at Phupha. ”Welcome, Tian. Please, sit, sit. This is a family gathering, no need to be formal.”
Tian bows and offers the flowers and sits on a small pillow next to Khama, feeling slightly self-conscious.
Phupha touches his shoulder and says, ”I’ll get you something to drink,” before turning and walking back to where Doctor Nam is (again) waggling his brows and grinning.
”He’s been talking about you the whole week,” Khama says conspiratorially, leaning close to Tian.
”Oh,” Tian says, unsure of how to react.
And then Phupha is back with a soda, Khama draws him into a conversation, and then there’s food and some dancing and the kids perform something that consists of a lot of jumping and flapping their hands and giggling. Tian isn’t sure what it is about but he applauds enthusiastically anyway.
When the sun goes down, the lanterns are lit and the fireplace is set with fresh logs, and then Yod digs out a guitar, roping his fellow rangers into a song, and Tian spends the whole time staring across the fire at Phupha who looks like some kind of deity in the firelight. It makes him feel hot all over, and when the song ends, he ducks his head because he’s not sure what his face is doing anymore.
”How do you like our village, Tian?” Khama asks, appearing by his side.
”Beautiful,” Tian says, glancing at Phupha.
Khama chuckles. ”Well, yes, him too,” he says, and then waves his hand when Tian sputters. ”It’s been a while since we’ve seen him smile like that. Happy.”
Phupha meets his eyes across the fire and smiles, and in his chest, Tian’s loaned heart thumps.
”Do you believe in destiny?” he asks abruptly, not really knowing where the question came from.
Khama hums. ”There are many strange and wonderful and unexplained things in this world.”
”I—” Tian starts. ”Did Phupha tell you what happened to me?”
”That you have Torfun’s heart? Yes.” Khama turns to look at him. ”Is that why you asked?”
Tian shrugs. ”It’s just…I would’ve never even wanted to come to the north before,” he says softly. ”And if I hadn’t come, I wouldn’t have met—”
Khama takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. ”Torfun once said that her heart belongs in here,” he says, nodding his head at the village. ”And now it has returned with you. Stranger things have happened.”
”Yeah,” Tian says.
Khama sits next to him for a moment, then clasps his shoulder as he stands up, leaving Tian to sit by the fire, watching Phupha singing on the other side.
When the song ends, Phupha stands up and walks around the fire, following a shimmering thread that connects their wrists. He shrugs off his jacket and sets it on Tian’s shoulders and then sits next to him. Without a word, Tian rests his head on his shoulder and together, they watch Doctor Nam recite silly poetry until Yod, Rang, and the kids laughingly boo him silent.
”What was that again?” the librarian asked politely.
”Soulmates,” Tian said. ”Do you have anything about soulmates? Or red string of fate or something like that?”
”I’m sure we do,” the librarian said, cocking her head slightly as she typed rapidly on her computer. She looked birdlike, reminding him of the birds he’d seen on some documentary or another on his hospital room’s TV. Thin face with straight hair brushing her jaw, big eyes blinking behind her round glasses, and a delicate golden eyeglass chain looped around her neck. If there was a stereotypical librarian, Tian thought, she was that. ”It is one of the most popular tropes out there, and combined with the reincarnation trope...” Her voice trailed away as she kept typing. ”What genre are you looking for? Contemporary romance? Historical? Fantasy? LGBT? Supernatural? Or, well, I guess soulmates are supernatural, to begin with—”
”Uh, I’m not—” Tian interrupted. ”I meant like. Fact books? Non-fiction?”
”Ah,” the librarian said, pausing her typing. ”Hm. We certainly have both religious texts and folklore books, both on Asian and Western culture. Scientific publications on the other hand…” she made a face. ”Sorry.”
”It’s okay,” Tian said automatically. ”Could you show me where…?”
”Of course,” the librarian said and directed him to the appropriate shelves. ”Please, don’t hesitate to ask if there’s anything more I can do for you,” she said before turning and returning to her desk.
Tian turned to look at the shelf and read the description of the section he was in. Folklore. Right.
He picked a couple of books with interesting covers, made his way to the nearest free table, and started to read.
That day, he went home with six books in his bag and a depressing certainty that he was seeing things. The thread on his wrist just couldn’t be real, and it couldn’t lead him anywhere.
(He still went back to the library, returned the books after he’d read them, and loaned more. Not because he necessarily believed in any of that. It was just nice to think there would be someone out there just for him.)
On his fifth visit to Phapundao village, Phupha takes him to the Phapundao peak.
”But only if you really feel like it,” he warns. ”It’s a mountaintop and the climb is long. We’ll take breaks when you need them and turn back if it’s too much.”
”I’m not that fragile, you know,” Tian says.
”And I’m not going to call your mother and tell her you collapsed halfway up because you were too stubborn,” he says flatly. ”That would make a terrible first impression.”
”Fine,” Tian says.
(He hasn’t yet told his parents about Phupha. They know he’s met someone but not who that someone is. Or that it’s a man. But Tian will tell them soon. Real soon. He will. Probably.)
Phupha is right: the climb is long and it would leave Tian winded and near fainting if Phupha didn’t keep an eye on him at all times. They pause at regular intervals to gaze over the gorgeous scenery, and Phupha tells him how far the village’s territory reaches and where the national park borders are, all very interesting things that Tian ignores in lieu of watching Phupha’s face when he talks about things he clearly loves.
”How’s your heart?” Phupha asks when they draw close to the peak.
Smitten, comes to Tian’s mind, unbidden. Taken. ”I’m fine,” he says instead, trying and mostly succeeding in keeping his breathing level.
Phupha gives him an unimpressed look. ”This isn’t a competition, Tian. If you need to take a moment to rest, just say so.”
”What if I’m too winded to continue and need you to carry me to the top?” he asks cheekily.
Phupha blinks, then shrugs, and before Tian has the chance to react, scoops him in his arms.
”That was—I didn’t mean—Phupha!” he yelps.
”Stop squirming,” Phupha says. His arms are steady and Tian feels safe in his embrace and—it’s—okay, it’s very attractive and Tian is probably bright red now. But he settles and rests his head on Phupha’s shoulder.
Who would’ve thought he would enjoy being bridal-carried? Not him!
Phupha takes his time, climbing slowly and carefully. When they finally reach the top, he sets Tian down next to a felled log but keeps his arm around him, holding him close.
”I brought Torfun here a couple of times,” he says quietly. ”She enjoyed the quiet and the view.”
”It is beautiful here,” Tian agrees softly.
”There’s this local legend that if you come here on the last day of the year and count a thousand stars, your wish will come true,” Phupha says.
”I know,” Tian says. ”Torfun wrote about it in her journal.”
Phupha lets out a questioning sound.
”Her plan had been to come here on the last day of last year and count the stars for you.”
”For me?” Phupha says, confused.
Tian nods without looking at him. ”She thought you were lonely and wanted to wish for you to have someone special in your life.” He sighs. ”And then she died under my car and now she’ll never get to make that wish.”
They sit in silence for a while. Tian drinks in the scenery; the mountaintops so far away their outlines grow hazy, the lush green carpet of woods that weaves its way around the landscape, the bright, bright sky, and the clouds that almost brush the mountains.
”But it came true anyway,” Phupha suddenly says.
”What?” Tian says turning to frown at Phupha.
”Her wish,” Phupha says, tilting his head a bit. ”She wished I’d have someone special in my life. And I do.” He turns to face him, cups his cheek, and smiles. ”You.”
”Really?” he whispers.
Phupha nods, still smiling, and leans closer, stopping as if he’s waiting for something—
—Or someone.
Tian closes the distance and presses their lips together.
It’s not a world-shattering kiss. There are no fireworks or great waves of overwhelming feeling. It’s warm and comfortable and safe.
It feels like home.
Tian smiles into it and imagines their thread glimmers just a bit more brightly.