Archive of Our Own ^beta

i.

Voices are a lot harder to block out than words on a screen.

Pi knew this, of course, but it doesn’t make the hushed murmurs and barely whispered words any easier to deal with. Tangles of voices fuse together in his brain, making it nearly impossible to focus on any of the information in front of him. Pi is seconds away from just shoving his things in his bag and bolting out the library door, but he already messaged Mork and told him that he snagged their usual table, and Mork already read it, and responded, a sweet little string of words that said ‘see you soon,’ with an equally sweet string of heart emojis floating at the end.

Just thinking about it is almost enough to ease the ugly coil of emotions crawling up his throat—the keyword being almost.

He really can’t concentrate at all. The words in his textbook don’t make sense, nor do the highlighted terms and the extra underlined information that may not be important, but look like they are. All that he can focus on are the voices, the murmurs, and the words he knew were purposefully not whispered. Pi tells himself not to care, and he doesn’t—not too much, not really, not anymore. He’s already made it a point to ignore any lingering negativity online, so why can’t it be just as easy in real life?

“No way… Really?” a girl mutters, not too far from his and Mork’s regular table.

Here we go, Pi thinks.

“Mm, yeah, can’t believe it myself, either…” a second girl whispers, which has the first girl muffling a laugh.

Mm, yeah, Pi thinks flatly, resisting the urge to roll his eyes and failing, it’s been over two months, better start believing it.

“Wait, you’ve gotta be kidding,” a third girl says, and by now, Pi’s wondering how many girls have jammed themselves at a table that’s really only supposed to hold four. “P’Mork, with that guy?”

“Ai’Plern!” the first girl gasps, “Stop it! You aren’t whispering at all!”

Yeah, Pi thinks mockingly, scrunching up his nose in distaste, you aren’t whispering at all!

He must miss whatever response Plern must’ve had to that, because the next thing he knows, all three girls are a giggling mess behind him. The noise rakes at his ears, that familiar anxious coil curling around his throat, making even breathing seem like such a tedious task. Each inhale is strained, each exhale is weak. Pi tells himself he doesn’t care, over and over and over again, but it’s hard to break out of the habit of destructive thinking. It’s harder to block out voices around him than text on a screen. A simple block on Facebook does the trick, as does the simple act of making his profile private. He tells himself he doesn’t care about other people, because other people aren’t Mork, and—thud!

The sudden sound of books slamming on the tabletop tears him from his thoughts, and in the time it takes for Pi to lift his head, the giggling behind him has stopped as well.

“Pi,” Mork murmurs in greeting, but he doesn’t look as calm as he sounds. Pi has stared at his boyfriend’s face enough to know what each little shift in his expression means. What Pi sees now is a controlled smile, and while his eyes look positively soft and fond as they gaze at Pi, they harden and ice over when his gaze flicks up, over Pi’s head and to the girl’s behind him. He hears hurried shuffling of papers behind him and the scrap of chairs. “Sorry I’m late, babe,” Mork continues, soft enough to not further disturb other students in the library, but loud enough so the people around them hear the endearment. “Were you waiting long?”

Pi shakes his head scantily, his head pleasantly empty as he watches his boyfriend settle down into the chair across from him. He can feel the immediate relief wash over him, his nerves settling to a calm that had seemed so far away from him, just moments ago. Everything else in the background kind of just… fades away, now that Mork is within reaching distance, now that Mork is here, in front of him, in Pi’s own little personal bubble he so lovingly expanded and allowed Mork into.

He doesn’t realize his boyfriend is waiting for an answer. All Pi does is stare at him, love and warmth radiating at his core, smoothing over his skin like a protective veil. He’s too focused on Mork and his expectant, fond, amused gaze, the smile that’s a lot less controlled, and the way his boyfriend tangles their ankles together under the table.

“Pi?” Mork prompts, leaning across the table. “Were you waiting long?”

“Oh, uh.” Pi shakes his head again, lips twitching upward in a smile. He shifts in his chair just to feel their ankles knock into each other’s, but all he really wants to do is thread their fingers together and never let go. Pi feels calmer now, admittedly, but the rush of his own emotions has him feeling a bit winded. It’s been easier, yes, but Pi is only human. His mind is not always so kind. “No, I, uh… not really.”

Mork hums and nods, but he still doesn’t seem satisfied. His voice is lower, this time around, but Pi can hear the concern as he asks, “everything alright?”

Pi isn’t sure how many times he’s thought this, but he still can’t help but wonder how he got so lucky. Mork’s concern is so easy to pick apart from his tone, and his worry is so easy to see in the furrow of his brow, and his love is so easy to hear in the rise and fall of his voice. Pi knows he can whine and complain and groan all he wants, because Mork is willing to listen, and ease him, and dispel all the negativity and anxiety with a simple reminder that it’s Mork who likes Pi, that it’s Pi who likes Mork, more often than not followed by an attack of kisses to every inch of his face.

“Yeah,” he says, but even after giving him what he hopes is a convincing smile, his boyfriend still doesn’t seem satisfied. Pi shifts in his chair again, reaching out only to settle his hand on his textbook. If he touches him now, the words will fly out of his mouth, and Pi knows he won’t be able to stop. “Let’s just… study for now, okay?”

Mork looks like he wants to argue—because, well, Mork is Mork, after all, and if there’s one thing Pi has learned this past year, it’s that Mork doesn’t give up easily. But there must be something in his expression or in his voice, Pi thinks, because all his boyfriend does is purse his lips and nod tersely before directing his gaze to the pile of books in front of him.

Pi stares at his boyfriend for a moment longer, simply because he can, before doing the same.

It’s a stark contrast compared to his attempts before Mork arrived. The library is quiet: all Pi can hear around him are pages flipping, pencils scratching on paper and the occasional frustrated sigh. There are no harmful murmurs around him, nor are there words purposefully not whispered floating in the air behind him. It’s much easier to concentrate and retain the information he’s reading, even when he notices that Mork isn’t exactly studying out of his peripheral vision.

A brief moment passes as he wonders if Mork has a headache already. Were his contacts bothering him? Did he forget to bring his glasses? Maybe that’s why he’s on his phone, Pi figures, to message his brother and ask where he’s at, and if he could bring him his glasses—but then Pi’s phone vibrates and lights up.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees the notification before the screen goes dark.

Pi glances up at Mork, questions on his tongue, but Mork doesn’t look at him. He watches as Mork begins typing away again, and a moment passes before his phone buzzes and lights up again.

[A Guy From Nearby Faculty has sent you a message.]

Pi straightens from his hunched over frame and reaches for his phone. It’s been a while since Mork had a reason to message Pi this way—he figured that the account had been forgotten, or deactivated. Pi glances up at Mork again, a strange mixture of curiosity and worry in the pit of his stomach as he swipes at his phone and unlocks it, tapping at the notification to bring up the messages.

Hey, you there?

You seem quiet. Everything holding up okay?

Pi furrows his eyebrows.

What are you talking about? I’m alright.

Why do you ask?

You just seem kind of… off.

You can talk to me, you know, if you can’t talk to that boyfriend of yours.

A laugh escapes him before he can stop it. Pi covers his mouth with the back of his hand, ducking his head in embarrassment when he feels multiple pairs of eyes on him. What the hell? You really can’t let anything go, can you, Pi thinks, but he isn’t angry, no. Even as he shakes his head and lets his thumbs hover over the keyboard, all he feels is this overwhelming sense of fondness. He’s so far from angry he doesn’t even know what anger is supposed to feel like. It’s strange, but he feels… cared for, like he’s been seen through, and not in an entirely bad way.

I don’t know, he types, pressing his lips together in a fine line so he doesn’t let any wandering giggles escape. Maybe my boyfriend will get angry at you for talking to me?

I doubt that. Your boyfriend and I are actually pretty good friends.

I bet he’d praise me for taking care of you like this.

So, really, Pi. You can talk to me if you can’t talk to him.

Pi considers that. The sense of calm he feels isn’t false, because Mork is here in front of him. It isn’t something he made up on the spot just to make himself calm down—but he would be a liar if he said he didn’t feel any lingering restlessness. It bothers him. Regardless of the fact he knows what’s true and what isn’t, it bothers him. Why can’t people just leave him alone? Why can’t people just leave them alone?

It’s not like he can’t talk to Mork about this, because he has, numerous times, but it doesn’t change the fact that he hates the repetitiveness in which his complaints come. He knows Mork doesn’t mind, but there are still times where he feels like a nuisance—but it isn’t as if Mork isn’t aware of that, either.

Pi stares at the last message, brows knitted together at the meaning he knows his boyfriend has placed in them.

You can talk to me if you can’t talk to him.

How’d he get so lucky? Pi sighs, a small, defeated noise as he taps at his phone.

I guess there is something that’s bothering me.

Yeah? What’s that?

Earlier, I was waiting for my boyfriend at the library, and…

Well, I guess some people still can’t understand how I’m with the person I’m with.

I just wish they’d mind their own business, you know?

I know. It must be hard.

But it’s been better, right? Or, at least it seems that way.

It’s been better. It has.

Online, it’s pretty easy to ignore, but when it’s in real life…

It makes you anxious?

He wants to say no. He wants to shout it and scream it and paint it on the side of a huge building, no, that it doesn’t make him anxious, because more than anything, Pi doesn’t want to worry his boyfriend. But at the same time, he can’t lie to him, either, even like this.

Kinda, yeah, Pi types instead of ‘oh, no, not at all.’

It’s hard not to listen sometimes, when there’s been a time it’s all you ever heard.

But I’m okay now, really. My boyfriend’s been here for a while now, and I feel a lot better.

I even got some studying in, though I don’t think my boyfriend has.

Why’s that? Is he paying too much attention to you?

Pi rolls his eyes, and when he glances up at Mork, he sees the smirk playing at his lips.

As if. He’s not paying any attention to his books at all!

Come on, you can’t blame him.

Maybe he’s just trying to figure out where to take you for dinner.

Why don’t you ask him? I’m sure you’re tired of studying by now.

I gotta go. Have fun with your boyfriend.

Pi blinks at the screen, eyes widening as he watches the little status bubble blink from green to white. He peeks at Mork again, watching as he preoccupies himself on his phone, heart thudding in his chest all the while. Pi sets his phone down and shifts in his chair, staring down at the page he’d been reading before the exchange. It doesn’t come as a surprise to him when he finds that his focus strays within the first two and a half sentences he skims his eyes over.

It takes him a moment, but Pi finally opens his mouth.

“Hey, Mork,” he murmurs, leaning into the table so he doesn’t have to talk as loud.

Mork glances up from his phone, lips curling into a smile as their eyes meet. Pi watches as Mork sets his phone down, screen up and lit, granting him the sight of an online menu he vaguely recognizes seeing once before. “What’s up, babe?”

Pi can’t help it. He smiles at the endearment, unashamed at the ease in which it comes. The guy from a nearby faculty was right: he’d much rather have fun with his boyfriend than he would try to study. Pi reaches across the table, feeling boyishly giddy as he tugs gently on Mork’s sleeve, just because he can.

“Do you wanna get out of here?” Pi whispers, trembles of laughter causing his voice to shake because his boyfriend is already responding before the question is completely out of his mouth. He watches as Mork nods profusely and flips his textbook closed, and all Pi can really do is rush to follow his lead and catch up. The muted snap of his textbook closing sounds so satisfying in the quietness of the library, and when it’s accompanied by the soft scrap of a chair scooting backwards, it sounds even better.

When Pi finally looks up from shoving everything into his bag, he’s greeted with the sight of the palm of Mork’s hand. It probably shouldn’t feel as wonderful as it does, by now, but Pi’s never really had another person’s hand outstretched to him before. Each new aspect of a relationship Mork offers him is new, and exciting, and while it really isn’t the first time they’ve ever held hands, Pi thinks he’ll never get tired of the sight of his boyfriend’s hand being offered to him.

That hand is his to hold. This fact is nothing new, but it still manages to make Pi feel like the air is thinning, like gravity is faltering, like the whole universe is shaking.

Pi looks up, just a bit more, greeted with the sight of his boyfriend smiling down at him—the curve of it is small and fond, and his eyes are affectionate and crinkling at the corners with what looks so much like love.

“Let’s go, Pi,” Mork murmurs, wiggling his fingers, and all Pi finds that he can do is bite back his laughter and extend a hand in return.

He doesn’t care that there are various, wandering eyes watching their every move. In front of Mork, why should he care about anyone else that’s not the two of them? His bubble only contains the two of them, after all; there’s no reason to care about what’s outside of it. Pi slips his hand into Mork’s, his unbidden smile stretching wider as their fingers thread together.

“Let’s go,” Pi agrees, and lets himself be guided hurriedly out of the library.

ii.

Pi’s starting to think he hates dentistry.

Okay, no, not entirely, but he does hate the headaches and the (literal) pain in his neck that comes with hours of studying. It’s like it’s all he ever does, anymore, is sit at his desk with the heat of his lamp seeping into his face, creases in his brow as he reads paragraph upon paragraph, hissing and cursing under his breath when he backtracks only to get paper cuts when he hurriedly flips through pages and packets.

Four out of ten of his fingers are adorned with colorful band-aids, and a few pages in his packets may have the tiniest bit of smeared blood on them.

Pi sighs and leans back in his chair, squeezing his eyes shut as he tilts his chin up to the ceiling. It’s still too early to quit for the night, judging by the faint light that filters in through the curtains. God, how long’s he been at it, anyways?

A quick glance at the clock is all it takes for Pi to conclude that, yeah, he’s overdue for a break.

He rights himself, the squeak of the chair deafening in the quietness of the room. He stares blankly at his open textbook and the assortment of writing utensils piled in the middle before tearing his eyes away. From there, Pi’s eyes settle on his empty cup and his equally empty bowl at the corner of the desk, and it’s just as he decides that he’ll take a moment to stretch his legs and get more snacks and a drink that his eyes catch on the rainbow sticker on the back of his phone, buried underneath a study packet he got tired of going over within the first ten minutes of his self-study session.

A quick rush of urgency washes over him as he scrambles for his phone. He completely forgot about it, his mind having been completely thrown into studying. When he taps at the home button and brings the screen to life, he’s greeted with a few notifications from Duean and his mother, but more importantly, an influx of notifications from his boyfriend—and just like that, the rush of urgency fades into fond, quiet contentment.

Pi types in his pass code hurriedly, which may or may not be Mork’s birthday, and brings up their messages.

Immediately, his smile widens, and a laugh rolls off his tongue.

Hey, you’re studying, aren’t you? was sent about forty minutes after Pi had started, and another five minutes after that, Mork sent him, don’t forget to eat something that’s not just those Mix biscuit sticks.

Pi scrolls through the messages, a barrage of emotions pumping alongside the blood in his heart.

Hope you don’t mind if I just spam you, then.

My boyfriend works so hard. Bet you’re getting sooo smart right now.

I know, I know. I should be studying too, but I think Meen ate all my snacks, so I have to restock.

[image attached]

Pi tilts his head as he taps at the image, brows furrowing together as he zooms in on the picture. There’s an assortment of snacks and drinks in a green basket, and while some of them he knows are Mork’s favorites, Pi can’t help but linger on the bits of familiar packaging he sees, the ones that look so much like his own favorite snacks. He sees the familiar Mix packaging, black with red and orange flames. Just behind a cup of Mork’s favorite cup noodles, Pi sees a bag of spicy taro fish snacks, and what looks suspiciously like jumbo candy fruit chews.

He exits out of the photo before his emotions override the curiosity regarding the rest of the messages. All Pi wants to do now is call his boyfriend and hear his voice and enjoy what company he can get, studying be damned. He scrolls down a bit more, and it’s then Pi wonders how much more it would take for his heart to burst.

You said you lost your favorite pen, right?

I looked around my place just in case your brother stole it, but I didn’t find it anywhere.

This is the one, right?

[image attached]

I’m not picky with my pens, so don’t worry if it’s not. I’ll use it.

“Stupid,” he mutters, because out of everyone he knows, his boyfriend is one of the best at paying close attention to detail. Of course that’s the brand of his favorite pen, and if it weren’t encased in the packaging in the picture Mork sent, Pi would have thought that his pen really had been found. It’s the same one, right down the color and the comfort grip advertised at the top.

He has to close his eyes and count to ten. Really, his boyfriend is too much, but in the best possible way. Even now, through words on a screen, purposefully and thoughtfully typed out and sent to him, Pi feels like he’s filled to the brim with nothing but fondness and affection and the insane, screaming urge to wrap his arms around Mork’s neck and never let go.

No one’s ever done this for him before.

Pi laughs, little huffs of breath that tumble out of him easily, and taps at the screen of his phone so it doesn’t time out on him. He stares at the picture of the pen for a moment longer, and it seems like such a silly thing to get so emotional over, but he can’t help it. It’s the fact Mork thinks about him, thought of him, that makes him so full of this overwhelming fondness.

I’ll hang around just in case you check your phone and think of anything you need, was sent a minute after the picture, and the timestamp of the next message tells Pi that his boyfriend had hung around for seven whole minutes before sending, Alright, I’m checking out. See you soon.

“What?” Pi blinks—once, twice, and then a third time just for good measure. See you soon? Surely that doesn’t mean what Pi knows it means, but then again, this is Mork. Pi scrolls down a bit more, past the In the car, on my way, message, and right down to the message that’d been sent about fifteen minutes after letting Pi know he was in the car.

I’m here. Glad to see you aren’t just playing with the light switch on your lamp.

Pi feels his heart leap, the barrage of emotions and all, but then it drops when he sees that the message had been sent forty minutes ago. He scrambles up from his chair, uncaring of how it almost topples over with the haste in which he stood up. Faster than he’s ever moved, he’s pressing the little green call button next to Mork’s name and slamming his phone to the side of his face.

It only rings twice.

“Hey, Pi,” comes Mork’s greeting through the receiver.

“A-Are you still here?”

Mork hums, and just the sound of it after all day of not hearing it makes something inside Pi uncoil. He hears rustling in the background, and then Mork says, “Why don’t you come and see?”

He doesn’t need to be told twice. He’s turning on his heel before he even hears the questioning tilt of Mork’s voice. Pi fumbles with the latch on the doors to the balcony, and he can’t even find it in himself to roll his eyes when he hears his boyfriend laugh at the way he curses under his breath. He feels triumphant when he finally manages to unlock the doors, and he wastes no time in flinging them open and trying not to trip over his own two feet as he makes his way to the far end of the balcony.

His heart leaps again, and this time around, it doesn’t plummet. It stays there, lodged in his throat with no way out, even as his lips part in pleasant surprise.

Mork’s there, looking up toward the balcony from behind the gate, where he’s stood at so many times before. It’s a bit difficult to see with the distance, but there’s no mistaking his boyfriend’s smile, soft and fond and just for him.

Pi thinks that if weren’t for the fact he’d quite literally break his leg (or both), he’d jump off the balcony and fumble over himself just to get that much closer to his boyfriend.

“Surprise,” Mork says into the phone.

“It’s not much of a surprise when you told me you were coming,” Pi points out, and he means for it to be teasing, but he sounds more breathless than anything.

“Why do you look so surprised, then?”

“Shut up,” Pi bites, but he’s laughing as he says it. He shuffles closer to the railing, curling his fingers around it. “Can I… come down?”

“What are you asking me for? It’s your house,” Mork points out.

“Shut up!” Pi laughs, and takes a step back from the railing. “I just—I wasn’t sure if you were going home or not.”

Mork shakes his head. “I would’ve gone home a while ago, you know? So just come down. I want to see you, Pi.”

“Wait for me,” Pi tells him, and turns from the balcony.

“Always,” Mork says, and then Pi’s ending the call and tossing his phone on his bed, his brain a frazzled mess as his heart really does burst inside his chest. He feels warm all over, and it isn’t just because he’s rushing out of his room and speeding down the stairs; and it isn’t just because he’s tossing the door open and running across the pavement until he’s right at the gate.

It really isn’t hard to decipher why he feels so warm, nor is it difficult to tell exactly why his heart beats so erratically in his chest. His face hurts with the force of his own smile as he pulls the gate open. Pi doesn’t even give his boyfriend a chance to speak—he’s pressing up against Mork immediately, arms circling around his neck and pulling him close. Mork laughs in his ear, sweeter than a song, and keeps him close with an arm around his waist and a hand against the small of his back.

“Hey,” Pi mumbles into his shoulder.

“Hey,” Mork murmurs, tilting his head to plant a kiss to Pi’s cheek. “I’ve come to deliver snacks.”

“Oh, yourself?” Pi says as he leans back, his smile turned cheeky. “You shouldn’t have.”

“You’ve become such a flirt,” Mork sighs, but he’s laughing as he shakes his head. Before Pi can even comment about how he just has a good teacher, Mork’s lifting the bag in his other hand and offering it over. “Here. I got your favorites and that new candy you wanted to try.”

Pi glances down at the bag being offered to him, hesitant as he extends a hand to take it. He knows there’s no need for the hesitance, nor is there any need for the anticipation of the bag being snatched away just before his fingers touch the plastic handles. Mork has never snatched away his offerings or teased him with malicious intent. Each and every single time Mork has offered him something, be it his hand or a kiss, a pencil after his ran out of lead or a highlighter after his dried up, Mork has never once taken it back and laughed at him for thinking he’d actually receive what he’d been offered.

“…thank you,” he mumbles meekly, fingers curling around the handles. He takes a peek inside, taking in the assortment of colorful packaging before glancing back up at Mork. “You… really didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to,” Mork tells him earnestly, lifting a shoulder in a shrug. “You said you were studying today. I didn’t want you to run out of snacks.”

Pi raises an eyebrow at him, fighting to control his smile. “I thought you needed to restock?”

“Maybe it was half a lie?” Mork tries, his laughter light. “I did need to get more snacks, but… Really, I just wanted to do something for you, Pi.”

Embarrassment washes over him, but it’s not the kind that comes with shame. Pi ducks his head, fighting to control the severity of his smile as he stares at the ground. It’s not just the spammed messages or the fact Mork bought Pi his favorite snacks and a replacement for his favorite pen. It’s the spontaneous act and the surge of feelings that had Mork doing what he did, simply because he wanted to, simply for the fact he knew it would make Pi happy.

Pi feels like he’ll choke up if he speaks, but he opens his mouth anyways, because he really can’t help himself. When he lifts his head and sees Mork’s smile, when he lifts his head and sees the way Mork looks at him, Pi knows that his own expression is an exact mirror.

“Can I…” Pi hesitates, shaking his head slightly because he doesn’t necessarily want to ask. It’s more like… he wants to let it be known, leaving it in the air between them like an offer, like a longing. Pi wants Mork to know that he wants, too. “I want to kiss you.”

“Go ahead,” Mork says. “It’s not like I’d ever turn down a kiss from you.”

Pi rolls his eyes, but his laughter is soft and void of ill intent. He wants to nag and tease and say, and you say I’m such a flirt, but he doesn’t. Pi takes half a step forward, and by now, it’s no surprise that Mork meets him halfway, just as Pi always does for Mork, but it still makes Pi feel like he’s losing oxygen each and every time.

When he reaches out, Mork is right there, just for him.

There’s nothing more gratifying than this feeling. The kiss may be chaste and dry, but the butterflies in his stomach still flutter to life and catch in his throat, pleasant as their wings tremble at the back of his throat. When Pi tilts his head into the kiss, his free hand curved to the slope where Mork’s shoulder and neck meet, Mork copies the motion and sighs into his mouth like kissing Pi is the most amiable thing in the world.

There’s a thought, here, as Mork’s hand presses gently against his lower back and holds him close, where Pi hopes he never gets used to this feeling.

He smiles as he eases away, shoulders shaking with laughter as his boyfriend follows, unwilling to let the kiss end just yet. Mork kisses him through his laughter, a second and third time before he finally relents—but much like always, he doesn’t go far. He stays close, right there in Pi’s space, inclining his head so their foreheads touch.

A few moments pass, just like that, with the two of them in each other’s space. Mork doesn’t ease away, so neither does Pi. The silence is comfortable, and easy, and so unlike anything Pi has ever experienced before that he can’t help but break the silence, if only to once again express his gratitude.

“Thank you,” he murmurs softly, and when Mork rubs their noses together, he knows that Mork understands what he means, and his heart swells with the knowledge.

iii.

Reluctant as Pi is to admit it, Mork’s been right about a handful of things. The list ranges in regarding different ways and various scenarios, but there’s no denying that the odds were usually in his boyfriend’s favor. Mork had been right when he said he’d have Pi falling in love with him, too, and now look where they are. He’d been right when he said Pi was obsessed with Muang Nan rather than in love, as well as all the times he pointed out that Pi was, in fact, jealous—no matter how much he had tried to deny the truth in its face.

Now isn’t any different.

You need to make sure you take it easy and rest, Mork had told him, frighteningly serious three days prior, or you’re gonna get sick.

Pi feels like he’s near death—and, alright, maybe that’s a bit over the top, but it’s true. His whole body hurts; each time he moves, his joints and his limbs seem to scream in protest, and every time he opens his eyes he has to close them immediately, the nausea and brightness almost too much to bear. One minute it’s hot, and he’s shoving the blanket off of his body and onto the floor, and in the next he’s sprawled halfway off his bed to retrieve it because it’s too cold to not have a blanket over him—and the next, he’s right back to feeling like he’s on fire. It’s an endless cycle.

Sleep comes to him, but it’s in restless bouts, and it’s maybe the fourth or fifth time he’s waking from his dreamless, groggy daze that he comes to find he isn’t alone.

Pi isn’t sure if the sight in front of him is real or not, at first. His head is lolled to the side, eyes half lidded and most likely full of muddled confusion as he gazes at his boyfriend, who sits comfortably on the floor right next to the bed. For a moment, all Pi does is stare at him, at his easy smile and the amused crinkle of his eyes, before he comes to the hazy conclusion that the sight in front of him is very real.

“Mork,” Pi says, hoarse and quiet. He furrows his brows and tries to clear his throat without wincing, which comes to him in failure. Mork reaches out, gentle as he brushes away sweat dampened hair from his forehead. “You’re… how’d you know?”

“Duean told me,” he whispers.

“H-Huh?” Pi feels his stomach drop and coil in on itself in vicious knots. The last thing he wanted to do was worry his boyfriend, and that’s exactly why he told Duean not to open his big mouth. “But I told him not to—“

“Don’t worry,” Mork interrupts gently, void of any real harshness. He sounds more amused than anything as he speaks. “It didn’t come without a price.”

Pi makes a disgruntled noise at that, too busy to use his mouth to try and speak when Mork’s cool hand feels so nice against his flushed face.

“I may have bribed him with pictures of Meen from when he was a kid,” Mork explains, sounding far too proud of himself, given the situation. “It was very easy. He even gave me his house key so I could get in by myself.”

The huff of laughter that leaves him is immediate and weak as he shakes his head—and although Pi wants to be more annoyed than he actually is, he simply doesn’t have the energy for it. If that’s all it takes for his brother to fold, Pi won’t stand a chance against anything in the future.

“You… you didn’t have to come,” Pi says weakly, just barely above a whisper—but he supposes it’s fine, since Mork is settled so close to him anyways. He closes his eyes as Mork continues touching his face, sighing with relief when the back of Mork’s hand presses against his forehead. “I’m fine, really. Just need some rest.”

“Duean also told me both your parents are working overnight tonight.”

Pi’s eyes fly open and he tries not to wince. Busted, he thinks. Damn it, Duean. “That’s—“

“Duean also told me he wasn’t going to be home anytime soon after his class, either. He said something about hanging out with the Kitty Gang. You know, adorkable and cutesy.”

Damn it, Duean! Do you have to tell my boyfriend your business?! “W-Well, that’s—“ Pi tries, but Mork is insistent.

“Besides, you took care of me when I was sick, before,” Mork points out with a shrug. He flips his hand over, mindful of the pressure as he sets his palm to Pi’s forehead.

“T-That was—“

“The same,” Mork interrupts promptly, unable to completely fight back his smile when Pi gives him a pointed look. It’s barely affective when he’s flushed with a fever and sweating, but it’s no less cute. “It’s the same. Alright? So, please, let me take care of you, too.”

Pi wants to argue—he does, desperately so, but this is also a part of being in a relationship, isn’t it? No matter how not used to this he is, being taken care of in return to taking care, he’d better just… start getting used to it, shouldn’t he? Pi shifts against the sheets, and he knows that his face must be scrunched up in distress, because all Mork does is smile his usual smile, and laugh his usual quiet, harmless laughter as he situates his hand so he’s now cupping Pi’s cheek.

“Let me take care of you, Pi?” Mork asks, and it’s firm enough to let Pi knows that he means it, that he wants to, but it’s also soft enough to let Pi know that it really would be okay, should he refuse.

He knows he won’t be able to refuse, though. How can he, when all Mork wants to do is care for him, in every way he can, in all the ways he is capable? It’s no different than what Pi has done for him, in the past; it’s no different than what Pi wants to do for him now. Mork’s hand is cool and gentle against his cheek, and his thumb soothes the puffiness of his under eyes with soft, feather-like strokes. Just having Mork in the same room as him, so close, is already enough to make him feel just a bit better—so why would he be stupid enough to push him away again?

He’s long since grown tired of it, after all.

Pi licks his lips and nods tentatively, closing his eyes just to bask in the attention—and then they open, quick and startled, when he feels Mork’s lips against his forehead. Just like all the times before, Mork doesn’t stray. He doesn’t lean back, he doesn’t ease away. Mork stays right there, in Pi’s space, uncaring to the fact that he’s sick and sweaty and just a bit on the snotty side. He presses his lips to Pi’s forehead again, and this time, Pi is able to tell that his boyfriend is smiling as he does it.

“Can you sit up a little?” Mork asks once he finally leans away. The hand on his cheek migrates to his shoulder once Pi nods and begins sitting up slowly. “I brought you some things to drink. They’re full of electrolytes, so drink up as much as you can. Do you think you can eat, maybe something small?”

Pi hums uncertainly as he takes careful sips of the drink Mork passed him. He must’ve been thirstier than he thought, because by the time he lowers the bottle from his mouth, he’s already drank half of its contents.

“Good job,” Mork murmurs, his smile full of encouragement and relief. “Here, I’ll take it for you.”

“I had some crackers earlier,” Pi tells him, nose scrunching up in distaste as Mork takes the half empty bottle from his grasp. He watches as he sets it aside, right next to the plastic bag lying beside Mork’s knee. Pi can see an assortment of light foods and medicines in there, and it makes the warmth of his fever morph into something a little more pleasant. “But I still didn’t feel too good after eating them.”

“You didn’t puke though, right?” Mork asks, and when Pi shakes his head to indicate he didn’t, Mork feels a little bit of anxiousness fade away. He nods, mostly to himself, and rummages through the bag next to him for medicine. “That’s good, then. At least you’ve had something in your stomach. I’d like for you to eat more, but it won’t do you any good if you really don’t feel up to it.” He pops a pill out of its plastic packaging as he talks and grabs Pi’s drink for him before offering them both over. “Here, take this. It’ll help your fever go down and hopefully help you sleep better. You were so fitful before I thought you were having nightmares.”

Pi makes a face as he swallows the pill, glad enough that he can’t actually feel it go down. “Before…?” he mutters, glancing at the clock. It’s just now nearing three in the afternoon. “How long have you been here?”

It’s Mork’s turn to make a face as he thinks before shrugging, finally settling on, “only about an hour and a half or so.”

“Wha—huh?” Pi stares at him, incredulous as he goes over his mental outline of Mork’s schedule. Riddled with a fever as he is, he still remembers the start and end times to all of Mork’s lectures and labs. “B-But, what about your classes…? You—“

“Skipped.”

“Mork,” Pi groans, but before he can even get a chance to tell him how he definitely shouldn’t have done that, and that he definitely should have just waited until his classes were over, the words die on his tongue.

Mork reaches out, and the urge to lecture him is quick to vanish once Mork’s hand comes up to cup his cheek again. “Don’t worry about that, babe,” he says, and all Pi can do is scoff—how could he forgive himself if Mork missed something important, or if his grades slipped all because he skipped to take care of him? He knows he doesn’t need to say the thought aloud for Mork to get it, because he’s sure it’s written all over his face. He can feel it in the stubborn furrow of his brow and the displeased press of his mouth. “I’m serious, Pi. It won’t affect me too much if I miss a class or two. Besides, are you forgetting who I am?” Mork teases, his smile lopsided. It’s one of Pi’s favorite smiles. “I am a favorite among my professors.”

“You…” Pi tries, shaking his head as Mork’s thumb smoothes over his flushed skin. He feels like he’s right back to where he started. “You… really didn’t have to.” Pi knows he’s repeating himself, but he can’t help it. It’s the only thing his brain can think of to say.

“I know I didn’t have to,” Mork tells him softly, his voice light and matter-of-fact, no room for further argument. “But I wanted to, and I’d do it again. Just like how I know you would for me.”

Pi bristles like he wants to argue, but the soothing touches to his cheek don’t stop. The battle has long since been lost, and now the war is coming to an end as well. A part of him hates that Mork is right, but when he thinks about it, it really isn’t fair if it’s one sided. If Pi would actively and willingly go out of his way to skip a lecture or a lab just to make sure Mork takes his medicine and eats, why is it so hard to accept that Mork would do the same?

Even through the haze of his fever, he remembers once Mork telling him, be selfish all you want.

He still needs to get used to this.

With each passing day and each month that passes, it’s been easier and easier, but there are still times where all Pi wants to do is reject any form of care and affection out of fear—and he knows that it’s silly. Pi knows there’s no need for that, not anymore, not when Mork is so genuine and heartfelt with every ounce of care he gives and every piece of affection he offers. Pi has been shown that, countless times, but there are still these small, insecure moments where Pi wonders if he really deserves it.

He knows he does, though. He knows he is worthy of Mork’s love and care, and he knows he deserves all the good his boyfriend gives him. Behind all the rooted fear and insecurity, Pi knows this.

“You’re right. Sorry,” Pi murmurs, almost too quiet for Mork to hear, if he weren’t already so close. He lifts his own hand and gently extracts Mork’s hand from his cheek, but not because he’s tired of the contact. If anything, all Pi wants is to be closer, to get closer, to never part. He holds Mork’s hand in the two of his, using both thumbs to graze along the rise and fall of his knuckles.

“There’s nothing to be sorry for,” Mork tells him, just as quiet, because he has a better understanding, now, of how Pi’s mind works. He lets Pi hold his hand, and when his grazing thumbs come to a still atop his knuckles, and when Pi looks over at him, all Mork can really do is offer him a smile. And it’s so mesmerizing, each and every time Pi gives him a smile right back, because it’s like Mork is being offered over a little piece of Pi each time. Mork’s smile stays plastered on his lips as he looks down at their hands, and he takes a moment to curl his fingers inward, trapping one of Pi’s hands in his own.

When Mork squeezes Pi’s hand, Pi squeezes back, and it’s enough.

iv.

Pi likes to think that every time he and Mork do something together, it’s something like a date. To him, it doesn’t really matter what they do or where they go as long as they’re together—be it studying, or picking up groceries, or even grabbing lunch at the canteen and heading to their usual table, Pi likes to categorize them as such, regardless of the fact that Duean insists those aren’t dates at all.

He doesn’t really expect his brother to actually confront his boyfriend about it, though. In Pi’s defense, he’s learned from a young age not to take any of Duean’s threats too seriously—so when Mork brings it up the next day, after his brother’s outburst and grumbled threats that Pi could, in fact, hear, Pi is one part mortified and one part amused.

“I got a text from your brother at two a.m. this morning,” Mork says conversationally, completely nonchalant as he scoops up rice from his plate. “He said he was going to hand my ass to me if I didn’t take you on a real date soon.”

Pi snorts into his drink. He can’t help it: for once in his life, Duean appears to not be full of shit. “Um,” he mumbles, wiping away the mess from his chin. As hilarious as it is, it’s also just a tad bit embarrassing. Pi can feel his face flush, and the tree their table is under doesn’t seem to offer any aid. “I-I’m sorry. I really didn’t think he was serious when he said he was going to give you a piece of… uh, his mind. Or whatever’s left of it.”

Mork smirks as he shovels a spoonful of rice in his mouth, knocking one of his ankles against Pi’s under the table as he chews. “Whatever was left, I think I got all of it,” he says, and fishes his phone out of his pocket. Pi raises an eyebrow in question as Mork slides the phone across the table to him before he picks it up, urged to by the nod Mork directs toward it. He taps at the screen, plugging in the pass code (still my birthday, Pi thinks fondly) before bringing up the messenger app.

You asshole! is the first message of Duean’s that Pi reads. He groans and shakes his head, sending an apologetic look Mork’s way, but all his boyfriend does is laugh into his drink and tell him to keep scrolling.

You guys have been dating for over half a year and you still haven’t taken him on a real date yet?!

I know you’ve seen my bro, man! He’s hot stuff! Do you wanna flaunt him around or not?!

I can’t believe you!

It’s bad enough that you could take Pi to the toilet and he’d call it a date! And you’re damn cheesy enough to think the same!

I’m so pissed off at both of you right now, I can’t sleep! I can’t even poop! You know how hard it is to sleep when I have to shit?!

I swear, man, if you don’t take him on a real date soon, I’ll hand your ass to you!

Just you and me, pal, no Kitty Gang involved!

Sleep with one eye open, jerk!

Pi closes his eyes and counts to ten, but it doesn’t stop his shoulders from shaking with laughter. Wasn’t this bad to laugh at? Surely it isn’t something he should laugh at. He tries to hold it in, but small giggles manage to make their way out of him.

“He’s got a point, though,” Mork finally says, once Pi’s giggling dies down. “I’d probably consider going to the toilet together a date.”

“Shut up,” Pi laughs, shaking his head as he slides Mork’s phone back to him. “I don’t know where he got that from. I never once said we haven’t gone on a date before.” He’s still shaking his head as he picks his spoon back up, poking at his lunch instead of shoveling it down because he can still feel laughter tickling at his throat, threatening to erupt.

“I know,” Mork murmurs, the softness of his voice quick to dispel that lingering laughter Pi still felt in his throat. He smiles at the way Pi’s expression fades from amusement to muted awe, and he may or may not be secretly thrilled at the way he’s still able to take Pi by surprise. Mork extends his free hand, laying it on the table, palm up. He waits until Pi’s fingertips graze the palm of his hand before he speaks again. “We think the same, don’t we? Every day with you feels just like a date.”

Pi makes a face at that, but it’s one that’s scrunched up with unfiltered joy and warm bashfulness. Before he can even tease Mork and say, Duean’s right, you’re so damn cheesy, his boyfriend’s expression shifts into something somber, and a sigh escapes him. Pi draws slow circles into Mork’s palm with his fingertips, trying for gentle and soothing. “Mork?”

“He’s right,” Mork says softly, and groans. “I can’t believe I’m admitting it, but Duean’s right. We’ve never gone on a real date before.”

“Didn’t we just establish that every day is a date?” Pi asks, rolling his eyes. “It doesn’t matter what my idiot brother thinks; they’re dates to us.”

“I know, but…” Mork trails off. Pi watches as his boyfriend stabs at his food, clearly displeased at the fact Duean of all people seemed to be right. He takes a quick bite of his food and chews thoughtfully, and by the time he’s done, he’s curling his fingers inward, the pads of them against Pi’s. Mork holds Pi’s hand, just like that, and grazes his thumb to the joints of his fingers. “I want to take you on a date,” Mork tells him sincerely, and adds, “a traditional one.”

“You…“ Pi starts only to bite back his next words.

You don’t have to. You really don’t have to.

How many times has he said that? How many times has he been assured, by Mork, that he wanted to do whatever it was that Pi had said those words in regard to? By now, the words have so little meaning that they don’t really pertain to them, not anymore, because each action is a willing commitment. It’s true that every day feels like a date. Each time they’re together, no matter what they do or where they’re going, it feels significant and wonderful.

Nothing compares to the feeling of being with Mork, and he knows that his boyfriend feels the exact same way.

Pi can’t help but wonder, though, now that the idea has been planted into his brain, what a ‘traditional’ date with Mork would be like. Would it be any different than what they do now? He shifts in his seat, tearing his eyes away from the heap of their hands and up to Mork’s face. A flare of courage surges in him, followed by a surge of pride once his next words pour out of him effortlessly.

“I don’t have any huge tests to study for right now,” he offers quietly, rubbing this thumb against the side of Mork’s hand. In the back of his mind, quite like a mantra, Pi tells himself: be selfish, be selfish, be selfish, be selfish.

“Me neither. Finals are still a ways away, too,” Mork points out.

“So… then…?”

Mork leans into the table and tilts his head. “Go on a date with me, Pi?”

Pi’s laugh is soft and fond, easily pouring out of him just as easy as his lips curl into a smile. He ducks his head, that same rush of warm bashfulness overriding any room for shame. Mork’s thumb grazes lightly against his skin, and it’s enough to have him lifting his head. “I’ll go on a date with you,” Pi murmurs, more shyly than he intends. He knocks their ankles together under the table, but it doesn’t deter the way Mork’s lips stretch into their own elated grin. Pi has to look away—if he doesn’t, he might just close the distance and kiss him silly. “So… tell me, then,” he prompts, just to occupy his mouth and his brain with something that’s not kissing his boyfriend. “What’s the date plan?”

Mork makes a noise at that. “Why would I tell you?” he scoffs, and Pi is unable to completely mask his alarm as his head snaps up—but much like always, Mork is quick to assure him. “It’s a date, Pi. It’s supposed to be a surprise. You’ll find out, let’s say…” he trails off, mouth twisting in thought. “How about Saturday, around… noon? I’ll pick you up.”

“Wha—you… you’re serious?” Pi gapes at him. “You really aren’t going to tell me?”

“Of course not. It’s our first real date. I’m not going to spoil it.”

Curiosity takes its hold. “Really?” Pi tries again, simply because he can’t help it. “You really won’t tell me? Not even a little?”

“Being cute won’t make me slip,” Mork chastises, but he’s smiling as he says it.

“I can be cuter,” Pi insists. His boyfriend doesn’t miss a beat.

“As if you could be cuter than you already are.”

“Oh, please. Could you be any cheesier?” Pi shakes his head, but he’s laughing, his nose scrunched up as if it could help stop the smile on his face from growing. It doesn’t, not really, especially when Mork murmurs something along the lines of guess you’ll find out on our date.

That’s all it takes for anticipation coiled with curiosity to root itself into the very center of his core. The next few days seem to mingle into one, one motion into the next, his thoughts nothing but a garbled mess of everything and nothing all at once.

Just like that, Saturday comes far too quickly.

It’s half an hour before Mork’s supposed to pick him up, and Pi’s standing in front of his bed, staring at the assortment of shirts he’s laid out on the blanket like they’re something foreboding. His stomach is in knots, and his brain feels quite similar to mush. It feels like he’s about to make some drastic decision, like this is the last moment in a video game where he can purchase weapons and healing elixirs and armor before facing the final boss, but he doesn’t have enough gold to get the best inventory.

The way Duean watches his every move like a thoroughly amused shopkeeper from the top bunk doesn’t help, either.

“What’re you staring at the shirts so hard for, huh?” Duean says, a teasing tilt to his voice. So annoying, Pi thinks. “What’d they ever do to you, man?”

“None of your business,” Pi mumbles, glaring up at his brother before directing his glare back down to the purple button up he’s been leaning toward for the past however many minutes he’s been staring at the shirts. He uncrosses his arms just to pick it up, inspecting it as it sways on its hanger. He remembers Mork saying once that Pi looked nice in it, and that’s enough to have him making his decision. Pi slips the shirt from the hanger, rolling his eyes as Duean makes high pitched cooing noises. “Leave me alone.”

“You really think you can fool me, lil brother?” Duean laughs, shaking his head as he tuts. He leans over the edge of the bunk bed, throwing out an arm only to point at Pi right in his face. “You’ve got a date, don’t’cha?! Hehehe! My threat really worked, huh? No need to thank me, man—you’re welcome!”

“Would you please stop?” Pi whines, deflecting Duean’s finger with a flick of his wrist before shoving his arms through the sleeves of his shirt and buttoning it up.

“I’ll never stop,” Duean tells him, his giggles filling the air. “So, c’mon, tell me. When’s he coming to pick you up? Should be soon, right? No worries, lil bro, I’ll walk you out.”

“Who are you, my dad?” Pi hisses, turning on his heel to place the other four shirts back into the closet. He steps to the side, fixing his hair in the mirror of the wardrobe while pointedly ignoring Duean’s shit eating grin, just above his head. “You are not walking me out.”

“Don’t be shy, Pi! C’mon, I know you’re nervous, just let me be a good big bro and walk you out. I won’t even go outside in my underwear.”

“Stop,” Pi groans. “I… I’m not nervous. Why would I be nervous? You’re so annoying. I’ll replace your chocolates with laxatives if you’re not careful.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Duean scoffs, brows disappearing behind the mess of his hair. “You’re gonna talk to me like that? Like I don’t know my own brother? Fine, I see how it is. I’ll smack your balls so hard they won’t be useable anymore. Bet that’ll make your boyfriend so—“

The ping of a text notification resounds in the room, effectively cutting off Duean’s next words.

“That wasn’t me,” Pi says at his brother’s accusing, expectant look.

Duean glares at him, but it lacks any real heat, even as he lifts a finger in the air as if to say I’m not done with you yet. Pi rolls his eyes and makes a face as he watches Duean unlock his phone, and he can’t quite stop the snort-slash-laughter that tears from him as he witnesses his brother’s face light up.

He doesn’t have to ask who it is, because he has a feeling he already knows—and as if on cue, there’s another ping of a text notification resonating in the room.

I’m here, Mork’s message reads.

“Hey—“ Duean starts.

On my way, he types back.

“Well, looks like that’s me!” Pi says cheerily, and then Duean’s phone starts ringing. He gives his brother a wide smile as he pockets his phone and his wallet, lifting a hand in a quick wave as he bolts to the door. “That’s N’Meen, right? C’mon, big bro, you should take that! He’s been studying an awful lot lately, right? You guys haven’t gotten much time together, right?” Pi smiles at the look on his brother’s face—a more genuine smile, compared to the first. “Don’t keep N’Meen waiting, Duean. See you later!”

Pi shuts the bedroom door firmly behind him, and then he’s racing down the stairs. He tries to be mindful of how many steps he’s taking at a time and how fast he’s going, but he can’t help the urgency that floods through him. Despite the nervous flutter in his stomach, Pi’s also just excited—so excited that it takes him three tries to successfully tie his shoes, and even then it doesn’t fade away.

The excitement is still there, coiling around the nervousness in the pit of his stomach as he slides into the passenger seat of Mork’s car.

“Glad to see you made it in one piece,” Mork says, lips quirked in a teasing smile. He waits for Pi to get buckled in before curling his hands around the wheel and pulling away from Pi’s house.

Pi nods in agreement, his laughter breathy and quiet as he stares out the window, watching their surroundings pass by. “I feel kind of bad, though,” he mumbles after a moment. “Was it mean of us to have N’Meen do that?”

Mork hums in thought before shrugging. “Not really. Meen… Sometimes he’s so serious about studying and schoolwork that he doesn’t let himself really do what he wants. I think he was secretly happy when I asked if he could distract Duean for us.”

It’s Pi’s turn to hum in thought as he recalls the look on his brother’s face—unabashed happiness, overwhelming joy. He’s never really seen that expression on Duean’s face before, and Pi would be lying if he said it wasn’t nice to see, no matter how annoying his brother can be. “I guess you’re right,” he muses, smiling at Mork’s side profile. “Maybe we can get them something while we’re out. If, uh… the location of our date allows,” he tacks on carefully.

Mork glances at Pi quickly before directing his gaze back to the road. He seems to hesitate, but soon he relents, his small bout of anxiousness dissipating at the soft way Pi looks at him. “We’ll… be at the mall,” Mork tells him slowly, easing the car to a stop at a red light. His fingers flex on the wheel as he stares straight ahead. “I thought maybe we could see the new Halloween movie.”

“Really?” Pi says, his smile widening when Mork nods. “Awesome! I really wanted to see that.”

“You’re… okay with that?” Mork asks quietly.

“Of course! Why wouldn’t I be?” Pi tilts his head, genuine in his wonder. Mork doesn’t answer right away, occupying himself with the flow of traffic once the light turns green again—but much like always, Pi just waits. It’s the same as what Mork does for him, after all: there is no pushing, there is no urging. He stares at his boyfriend’s side profile, studying the knit of his brow and the slight downward pull of his lips, content to wait until Mork is ready to speak.

“I don’t know,” he finally murmurs, lifting a shoulder in a shrug. “I guess… you know, it’s not like we’ve never gone to the movies together before,” he says, purposefully and carefully keeping his eyes directly on the road. “As far as real first dates go, I don’t want to disappoint you.”

He’s nervous, is the first thought that bubbles up in Pi’s mind, just like me.

It shouldn’t be as jarring of a thought as it is, but he can’t help but be a bit surprised by it. Pi has seen firsthand how much confidence naturally flows from his boyfriend, but it was still hard to wrap his head around the fact he was able to put a stuttering halt on it. To have as much influence over his boyfriend as his boyfriend has over him—maybe it really is something quite like effortless adoration.

Pi holds out his hand, palm up, and wiggles his fingers all the while trying to ignore the way he feels like he’ll burst, right there in the passenger seat of Mork’s car—but all his boyfriend does is glance down at his hand before quickly averting his gaze.

“I’m driving,” Mork says stiffly, squeezing the wheel.

“Oh, come on,” Pi laughs, wiggling his fingers again. As if that’s ever stopped you before, he wants to tease, but doesn’t. “We’re almost at the mall, see? It’ll be fine.”

Mork glances down at Pi’s hand again, the corners of his mouth twitching upward in a smile as he complies. His fingers uncurl from the wheel easily, and even with his eyes on the road, Mork doesn’t misjudge the distance between their hands. Like some sort of gravitational pull, their hands come together naturally, palm-to-palm and fingers threaded.

Pi hums his delight, flipping their hands so the back of Mork’s hand is against his thigh. He smiles as he grazes the curve of Mork’s fingers with the thumb of his free hand and over the slight convex of his fingernails.

After a moment, after he’s satisfied with his small touches, Pi speaks.

“It’s simple. I like that,” he says quietly, and although Mork doesn’t glance over at him, he knows his boyfriend can hear the smile in his voice. Pi also knows he doesn’t have to say anything grand, like anywhere with you feels like a date, and every day with you feels like one too, because they’ve already established that. “Going to the movies really does make it feel like this is a first date, doesn’t it?”

Mork nods with a barely-there hum, just a small inclination of his head as he squeezes Pi’s hand. The coil of nervousness dissipates further, leaving him with nothing but that warm sense of comfort that Pi so effortlessly conjures up in him. “You’re right,” he murmurs, and now that Pi knows what his boyfriend had been feeling, it was easier to hear the muted uneasiness in his voice. “I guess… I was just nervous for no reason, maybe.”

“Yeah?” Pi hums, unable to control his smile as he looks down at their hands. He recalls the way he hadn’t been able to pick out a shirt and the way his voice had come out strange when he insisted to Duean that he wasn’t nervous. “I can understand that,” Pi admits, and squeezes Mork’s hand right back.

Their hands barely come apart, after that.

There are a few instances, of course: as they get out of the car, as they carry their food and drinks into the theater, and as well as another, after they get seated and comfortable and the movie starts rolling.

In his defense, Pi hadn’t even known where they were going until they were already halfway to their destination. How was he to prepare if it was meant to be a surprise? He tries his best to just bear with the chill in his bones and ignore it, but Mork notices fairly quick. Seated as closely as they are, hands clasped and their forearms pressed against each others, it wasn’t especially hard for his boyfriend to take note.

“You’re cold,” Mork whispers worriedly, rubbing his thumb against the side of Pi’s hand as if to emphasize his observation.

“It’s okay,” Pi whispers back, glancing down at where Mork’s now rubbing his arm before redirecting his gaze back toward the screen. If he focused on the bloodshed of the movie, would it stop the way his heart pounds in his chest? Any louder and Mork would likely hear it. “I should’ve been more prepared. It’s fine, really.”

Beside him, Mork makes a quiet, indignant noise, and then he’s uncurling his fingers from Pi’s.

“Huh? What are you doing?” Pi hisses urgently, trying to keep a hold of his boyfriend’s hand, but Mork doesn’t let him. He watches as Mork shrugs off his jacket, slow and careful as to not disturb the few people in the theater—as if any of his movements or their whispers could be heard over the screams of the victims and slashing sound effects of Michael’s knife.

“Take my jacket,” Mork murmurs, folding it in half messily before offering it over. “Here.”

Pi stares down at it, his mouth opening and closing around soundless words that don’t quite make it out.

This is another thing that no one’s ever done for him, before—and maybe he shouldn’t feel so emotional over it, especially as the theater fills with screams and suspenseful music from the movie, but his mind feels so far away from his surroundings that it all seems a bit surreal.

Boyfriend’s jacket, his mind supplies, like a broken record, boyfriend’s jacket.

“Are you… sure?” Pi asks softly, and Mork gives him a small smile, like he knows exactly what’s going through Pi’s mind, which probably isn’t too far from the truth.

“Of course,” he says gently, as if there were any other answer.

Pi takes the jacket tentatively, grazing the pads of his fingers against the dark blue material before he unfolds it carefully. He feels like he’s moving in slow motion as he slips his arms into the sleeves, adjusting it so it’s wrapped around him snugly. Mork’s warmth still lingers in the fabric of the jacket, and it takes no time at all for Mork’s scent to occupy his senses. He looks down at himself, and he knows that despite the darkness of the theater, Mork is most likely able to see the tips of his ears go pink. Mork is broader than he is, after all—the jacket isn’t too loose on him, but it is loose enough to be noticeable; it’s also comfortable, and it feels so boyishly gratifying that Pi has to suppress a bout of giggles.

He glances over at his boyfriend, unable to look away as quickly as he would’ve liked once he sees the look on Mork’s face—fond and thoroughly pleased, further heightened by the darkness of the theater. Pi has to shake himself from his stupor before he closes the distance and spends the rest of the movie kissing his boyfriend. For as much as he wants to make out with Mork in a dark theater, he wants to see the actual movie just as much.

“Thank you,” he says quietly instead, his voice more timid than he intends. Pi settles back into his seat, pointedly ignoring the heat that floods his face as Mork’s eyes seem to stare holes into the side of his head. “I’m warmer already.”

“Good,” is all Mork says as he threads his fingers through Pi’s again.

v.

The rain has tormented him like this before, in quite a similar fashion.

Pi watches as the raindrops crash down, mouth twisting in distaste at the strong sense of déjà vu the scene gives him. He really can’t help but wonder where all his luck has gone. The rain and the wind make an ugly combination, one that Pi isn’t stupid enough to try to venture out into without some sort of aid. Fate would have it that the one day he doesn’t check the weather is the same day that Duean had to give him a ride to university, and of course that means he’s umbrella-less by default.

He sighs as he fishes his phone out of his pocket, a sudden crash of thunder affectively drowning out the strangled noise that tears from his throat.

“What the hell,” Pi mutters, a cloud of overwhelming defeat looming over him as he stares down at the no battery warning that seems to flash mockingly on the screen. He can’t help but wonder if that was the wind in his ears, or if it was just fate laughing at his bad luck. Pi pockets his phone with an angry huff of breath, mumbling curses as the rain begins to fall in earnest now.

If Pi recalls correctly, tapping into that same sense of déjà vu that lingers in his bones, this is kind of how it had played out about a year ago, too. The wind is as harsh as the rain, his phone is dead, and he doesn’t have an umbrella—but at least he isn’t cursing the ones who do, who also have someone at their side.

It’s strange how a situation can loop around and present itself right back to someone, and what could be even stranger is the contrast between then and now.

Pi lingers at the top of the stairs, glancing at the few couples who pass by him to hurry down the steps. There are no annoyed huffs of breath as he watches a girl open an umbrella, her boyfriend tugging her closer so the two of them fit under it. He doesn’t even think that people in love stink as two girls hold an umbrella above them together, giggling as the water splashes at their ankles as they descend the stairs. There’s not even an urge to push the two guys that pass by him, already huddled together under a clear umbrella, down the stairs.

If anything, it just makes him think of Mork—and fate must be toying with him again, because there’s his boyfriend’s voice, calling out to him in the back of his mind.

“Pi!”

Weird. That really sounds just like him, Pi thinks, a private smile curving his lips as he takes a step down the stairs. He extends a hand, the course of the wind strong enough now to carry some of the droplets his way. It doesn’t look like it’ll stop anytime soon, no matter how much sunlight still filters in through the dreariness.

“Hey, wait up! Are you ignoring me?”

Huh? I’m not ignoring you. I’m waiting right here, so hurry up, he thinks, rolling his eyes.

“Pi!” Mork hisses, this time much, much closer than before—and Pi only has a moment to think about how strange that is until he feels fingers curling at his bicep, gently tugging him backwards. His back connects with a solid chest, so warm and familiar that Pi’s heart jumps against his sternum. When he glances back, it’s Mork looking down at him, his eyebrows furrowed and his expression a mix between relief and exasperation.

“Oh,” Pi breathes, his eyes gone wide. The grip on his arm loosens, allowing him to turn and face his boyfriend. Happiness flutters in his stomach, and despite the way his boyfriend looks at him in (fond) disbelief, Pi finds himself unsuccessfully fighting back a smile. He’d just been thinking about him, and then there he was. “Mork? How’d you know I was here?”

“It was half a guess,” Mork tells him, lifting a shoulder in a shrug. “I tried calling you, but it went to voicemail, so I called Duean to see if he picked you up yet.” He shifts from foot to foot, glancing up at the coiling gray clouds and the rainfall before directing his gaze back to Pi. “I’m… sorry I wasn’t able to give you a ride this morning, Pi.”

“Don’t worry about that. I get it,” Pi says, laughter evident in his voice. He feels so mushy that he’s sure he’ll turn into a puddle should one more drop of rain touch his skin. “You’re here now,” he says softly, and then it’s like a switch being flipped once he sees what Mork’s got in his hand. Would it be so bad of him to tease his boyfriend a little? Just a bit, he thinks, a mischievous grin replacing his fond smile. “You’ve even got an umbrella. Is that for me?”

Mork raises an eyebrow, lifting up the umbrella by the handle with two fingers. “What if I said it was for the two of us? Would that be alright?”

“That’d be more than alright,” Pi laughs, stepping sideways to stick himself to Mork’s side. “Come on, come on!” he urges excitedly, and then it’s Mork’s turn to laugh as he busies himself with unfastening the velcro strap, pushing the umbrella open.

When Mork lifts his free arm in invitation, Pi huddles closer, and in turn loops an arm around Mork’s waist. All his prior mischievousness fades away, once again replaced by that same easy smile, always unashamed at the ease in which it comes.

They descend the stairs just like that, pressed together with the umbrella tilted at a slight angle to block out the rain. Pi lets Mork lead the way, content enough just to feel that familiar warmth seep into his side, his fingers curling into the loosened fabric of Mork’s shirt.

This is another thing no one has ever done for him, before, and—no, that’s not quite right.

Pi glances at Mork, a familiar thought resurfacing at the very front of his mind. He doesn’t mean to say it aloud; really, it was supposed to stay there, floating in his brain where it usually does on nights he cannot sleep, where he misses Mork more than anything because of their increasingly busy schedules. Maybe it’s the familiarity of it all—the déjà vu, the scenery, the rain and the umbrella, Pi isn’t sure; but once the thought roots itself in his brain, it’s difficult to shove away.

He’s thought about it, after all. Countless times, the thought has invaded his brain. Would it be so strange to wonder if Mork had, too?

“Have you ever wondered—” Pi starts, his mouth clamping shut quickly due to his own hesitance, but then Mork is gently tugging him closer by the shoulder, a little hum sounding at the back of his throat to let Pi know he’s listening, that he can take his time. “Well, it’s just… I was thinking,” he murmurs, following the motion of Mork steering them to the left. His voice comes out quieter than he intends as he asks, “Have you ever wondered how it would’ve ended up, if… you had walked me to the bus stop that day instead?”

“Yes,” Mork admits after a moment, adjusting the umbrella in his grip. He’s got a strange look on his face, almost bittersweet—torn between confessing and keeping his mouth shut. Would it have been different? If he had had the courage to walk up to Pi himself, would he have, in turn, been able to conjure up the courage to pursue Pi outright? It’s something that claws at his brain at night, begging for answers even now, when he should be focusing on clinical practice. “I would always wonder if you would’ve looked at me the same way you had looked at Nan, but…” Mork trails off, shaking his head with a tiny shrug. His next words burn on his tongue, even now: “I told you before. I never had the courage to approach you.”

“That’s still so hard to believe,” Pi murmurs, barely able to contain a small huff of laughter. He shakes his head and lets his gaze fall, watching how the water splashes at the hems of their pants. That’s why I had to become someone else, he remembers Mork confessing before, which has another thought unearthing itself. “I had my suspicions, you know—about who was behind the guy from nearby faculty account.”

“Yeah? Did you ever suspect me?”

“A few times,” Pi admits immediately, mouth twisting in a shy smile he’s trying to fight against. He doesn’t admit to the fact he had only suspected Muang Nan that one time, when he had ratted Mork out at the sweets shop. Pi knows just that fact says a lot. “I remember that he… you…? He would say something, and it would remind me of how… you talked, but it never made sense to me. I always thought you were out to get me.”

“Oh, I was,” Mork points out, his mouth curled in a teasing grin. He leans his weight against Pi, steering them to the right and toward the parking lot. “It was in a completely different way, though.”

Pi rolls his eyes, a lighthearted shut up and what a king of flirting leaving his lips as he presses himself closer in return, and all Mork does is laugh.

It’s pleasantly quiet, after that, with just the water splashing at their feet and the now gentle patter of the rain against the umbrella and the sidewalk. There are other student’s voices off in the distance, laughing and joking as they leave their faculty buildings.

Pi doesn’t expect the topic to be brought up again, but more often than not, Mork manages to surprise him.

“There were a few times…” Mork starts, and just like how Pi had hesitated no more than five minutes prior, it happens to Mork, too—and all Pi can do is offer back what he’s been given, countless times before. He glances at his boyfriend, giving him a small, encouraging smile as he presses his hand firmly to the slight curve of Mork’s waist. His thumb draws gentle circles against the fabric of Mork’s shirt, soft and soothing, and it seems to do the trick. Mork tries again, his words careful and quiet as he herds them to the side to avoid a particularly large puddle. “I almost confessed. It was only… maybe a couple of times, that I'd thought about it, but… well, you know.” Mork eases them to a stop at his car, sliding his arm from Pi’s shoulders as that same bittersweet look from before morphs his expression. He stays close, keeping the umbrella above them although the rainfall comes down gentler than before, almost to a complete stop. “I never followed through.”

Pi hadn’t known that. It makes his heart do a funny little flip in his chest, painful yet sweet all at the same time. It almost sounds too sad to be true. You thought about it, he thinks, lips parting in quiet awe and muted sadness, you thought about it, but you never followed through. Even without asking, Pi’s sure he knows the answer to his question before it even fully forms in his brain—but just like with his prior wonder, it’s hard to shove away once the word roots itself into the folds of his brain. It comes out quietly, more of an exhale of breath than anything, but Pi knows Mork will be able to hear him no matter how softly he speaks.

“Why?”

Mork smiles, lopsided and affectionate, Pi’s favorite. He reaches out, molding his free hand to the shape of Pi’s cheek, his thumb swiping gently at the sensitive skin beneath his eye, just because he can, just because he wants to, just because he likes the way Pi’s eye crinkles. Mork suspects he’ll never get used to the rush beneath his skin whenever he casually touches his boyfriend like this, and hopes that he never does. “I couldn’t,” he says simply, nonchalant, as if this were some old story he’s told countless times. “You and I weren’t friends, not like you and the guy from a nearby faculty. We had only really talked that one time, and even then, you hadn’t looked at me, not even once.”

“I…” Pi blinks, his thoughts so sporadic that it’s a difficult task to gather them. Mork was right. Back then, he’d been so used to keeping his head down and avoiding looking at people in the eye, couldn’t expose himself to the possibility that he’d weaken and trust whatever it was he saw in someone’s gaze, in someone’s expression. “I guess… you do have a point,” he admits weakly, the words heavy on his tongue.

“I kind of lied to you back then, too,” Mork tells him, careful as he brushes away stray strands of Pi’s hair from his face, which now adorns a look of confusion. “I always wondered how you’d react if you found out it was me. I wanted to meet you, but the fear of your rejection always won over the curiosity. I couldn’t risk what we already had, even though more than anything, I just wanted you to see me.”

Pi’s heart does that thing again—flipping and thudding and tightening in his chest, equal parts painful and empathic. He understands, so much, what it feels like to want to be seen, and the implications within the words. I just wanted you to see me. A part of Pi seems to crumble, a tiny piece of his heart breaking for Mork, but then that same part rebuilds because of him, too.

He can’t help but think that this really is what love means, that this really is what love feels like.

“I… I’m glad I got to see you. You,” Pi emphasizes, swallowing around the lump in his throat. He feels so full of emotion, his voice raw and shaky with the intensity of it. “M-Maybe it wasn’t… exactly how you wanted it to come to light, but, I mean… I’m glad.” Pi nods, mostly to himself as he raises his hands, letting them slide against Mork’s forearms, up to his biceps. There’s an urgency in his bones, now, mingling in with the lingering pain and empathy, accompanied by his love and his affection. The need to get the words out now, instantly, before the memory fades away, makes his head spin. “And… you know, I’m glad that you liked teasing me, even though it always confused the hell out of me. And I’m glad that you were bothersome, and annoying, and… and kind of my rival, e-even though you really weren’t.”

Mork blinks down at him, bewilderment at Pi’s sudden outburst evident in his expression—and Pi thinks that it really is something fascinating, the way he’s able to take his boyfriend by surprise, even now, through the months, even through all they’ve experienced together.

When Mork opens his mouth to speak, Pi doesn’t let him.

“I’m not done,” Pi interrupts gently, shaking his head through the cloud of urgency as Mork closes his mouth. He shifts closer, the need to be as close as he can to his boyfriend overriding the need to be mindful of their surroundings. It’s a bit careless, he knows, but their privacy hasn’t been too meddled with in the past year, so Pi cuts himself some slack. He stays as close as he gets, sliding his hands up a bit so they’re closer to Mork’s shoulders. “I… I’m also glad that you were my first friend,” Pi murmurs, mouth twisting in a smile. “You, and the guy from a nearby faculty. You guys were my very first friends. Someone… I could confide in, and complain to, and joke with when I had no one else.”

Mork opens his mouth again, but whatever words on his tongue fade away once Pi brings up both of his hands, cupping Mork’s face in the palms of them.

His touch is as gentle as always, careful and tender as if Mork were something fragile. Pi copies Mork’s previous motion, grazing his thumb against the soft skin beneath his eye, his own gaze drawn to the small mole just beneath his lower eyelid.

“Pi?” Mork whispers, motionless as he stands there; the only sort of movement coming from him being the quick rise and fall of his chest, and his eyes as they flick down to Pi’s mouth and back up to his eyes. It wasn’t uncommon for the tables to turn, for it to be Pi’s turn to offer all of his love and his comfort, but it still managed to make Mork feel like he was fighting for air each time. Pi is so adept at making him feel loved, overflowing with adoration and warmth that all of his wonderings of the past feel so silly in the present.

Pi’s thumb grazing his undereye has Mork blinking back into the moment, where Pi still cradles his face carefully, where his eyes are still bright and full of love nestled with conviction.

“I’m also glad,” he starts, breathless as the words pour out of him, “that you’re my boyfriend.”

“Pi—“

“And I’m so, so happy, Mork,” Pi says, a wet laugh accompanying the threat of tears as he inclines his head so their foreheads touch, “that I’m able to call you mine.”

Mork really can’t take it much longer. He slips a hand to Pi’s waist, coaxing him even closer as his other hand tilts the umbrella to the side, shielding them from any wandering students and curious eyes. The rapid beat of his heart urges him onward, and he feels like he’s on fire, the fine hairs all over his body standing on end as goosebumps rise all along his skin.

His intentions must be clear, because Pi’s the one who tilts his head first.

There’s a bit of urgency in the kiss, but it still manages to be tender and easy, a simple give and take that the two of them are accustomed to, by now. Pi presses in, hand buried at the back of Mork’s head as he opens his mouth, swiping his tongue against Mork’s bottom lip—asking, never taking, and his body comes alive when Mork opens his mouth in answer, tilting his head to further deepen the kiss.

Pi licks at the roof of Mork’s mouth, lips curling into a small smile when he feels Mork’s fingers dig into his hip. A sigh escapes him, tiny tremors shaking along his body as Mork tilts his head the other way, seeking leverage, his tongue sliding against Pi’s before easing away, teeth biting into the swollen skin of his bottom lip. Pi groans, a tiny noise that sounds in the back of his throat, his hand tightening in its hold on Mork’s hair; it’s too much, it’s not enough, he feels like he’ll float away yet his limbs feel too heavy to move. He leans in, heart thudding in his ears as he presses firm, closed mouth kisses to Mork’s mouth, again and again, to the point where Mork’s smiling, shoulders shaking with laughter he’s trying to hold back as he returns every small peck.

“Mork,” Pi sighs quietly, bumping their foreheads together again. He keeps his eyes closed, content enough to pretend they aren’t in the parking lot at university, pressed together in front of Mork’s car. Now, with as much time that has passed between then and now, Pi doesn’t have to worry about hearing the shutter of a camera going off, nor does he have to worry about hearing squeals from admin’s of shipping pages just around the corner.

Right now, it’s just the two of them.

“Pi,” Mork murmurs, his voice just as quiet as he gently leans into Pi’s touch.

“I like you,” Pi tells him, a shaky laugh leaving him as the words take form with his voice. I like you. I like you. He feels like he’s about to burst, like every bit of boundless emotion in him will pour out at any second and drown the both of them. Pi licks his lips, unable to control how wide his grin is as he eases away slightly, opening his eyes to see Mork doing the same. “I like you.”

“I like you,” Mork echoes right back, soft and amused as he looks at Pi. He looks just as wrecked as Pi feels. “I like you.”

“I—“ Pi stops short, his heart doing that funny little flip again, but now for a completely different reason. He lets a hand slip down, allows it to mold to the shape of Mork’s shoulder as he keeps his other hand to Mork’s cheek, his thumb swiping along his boyfriend’s skin, careful and slow.

He’s expressed the words, before. Not so much aloud—no, always too shy and nervous to really voice them aloud, but Pi knows Mork hears it in the rise and fall of his voice, knows that Mork sees it in the shift of his expressions, and he knows that Mork feels it in the warmth of his touches.

It’s always there, an underlying constant to it all, but Pi still wants to say it.

“I love you,” Pi says, an audible intake of breath quick to follow his words. He lifts his gaze from where it had been focused on Mork’s collarbone, eyes widening at the familiar sight before him. Pi watches a flush creeps up Mork’s neck, staining his ears and the skin beneath his thumb; and just like all the times before, Pi can’t do much else but stare, unashamed and in awe at the sight, trying to commit each and every detail of reddened skin to memory—but it doesn’t last long.

Mork surges forward, pressing his lips to Pi’s again, again and again, little kisses that has Pi’s stomach flipping and tying into knots. Each kiss is firm and sweet, a wordless reply before the words themselves are spoken.

“I love you,” Mork says, soft and breathless, his lips brushing against Pi’s as he speaks. He tilts his head, kissing Pi again, right at the corner of his mouth before saying again, “I love you.”

Pi smiles as Mork kisses him, and he replies, too, a garbled little I love you into the next kiss.

+ i.

Despite being compared to Wan for a good portion of his life, Pi does not hold any animosity toward his eldest brother—in fact, it’s quite the opposite.

Wan is an amazing older brother, a wonderful son to their parents, and Pi’s sure that his brother’s boyfriend would say that he’s a great partner, too. His brother is smart, and kind, and gentle in a way that Pi had needed when he was struggling with himself, internally and outwardly, with tears staining his cheeks and bloody, scraped palms. Pi remembers Wan’s patient understanding, the soft way he had spoken and the promise he had made when he said that there was nothing wrong with Pi, that there never would be, and that he’s loved exactly how he is.

However, none of that means that Pi is totally incapable of finding his eldest brother just a bit annoying—and he thanks his past self of ten minutes ago for shoving Duean out of the room and locking the door before he had even brought up the one thing he wanted to ask Wan.

Not that Pi has asked yet, of course.

He’s pacing, his arms crossed over his chest as if to help calm the rapid, anxious beat of his heart. Wan sits on the bottom bunk, elbows to his knees and his fingers laced as his eyes follow Pi from one side of the room to the other. From the corner of his eye, Pi can see the way his eldest brother smirks—that all-knowing, amused little tilt of his lips that is so similar to Duean’s but also so incredibly different that it really messes with Pi’s brain.

For as drastically different Duean and Wan were, they had one thing in common: neither of them would ever truly miss an opportunity to tease their baby brother.

“You’ll wear out the flooring if you keep that up, Pi,” Wan teases, right on cue as he tilts his head.

Pi comes to a stop right in front of him, his annoyance clear in the downward turn of his mouth and the furrow of his brow—but all Wan does is laugh, and even though that’s got a teasing tilt to it too, Pi feels his anxiety uncoil at the familiar, safe sound.

Standing in front of Wan like this, he feels quite like a child.

“Come on, sit down,” Wan says, patting at the mattress before scooting over and making room. Pi drags his feet as he closes the short distance to the bed, flopping down and settling cross-legged the same as his brother. They’re facing each other, like this, just like when they were younger and Pi had something he needed to say, or ask, or confess, but wouldn’t dare to unless they were inside Pi’s little bubble, in the relatively safe space of his bunk bed. “Are you having trouble? Not sure what to do?” Wan guesses.

Pi scrunches up his nose as he shifts, their knees knocking together. He glances up at Wan only to lower his gaze to his hands again. “Something like that,” Pi says slowly, head bobbing up and down in a tiny nod.

Wan hums, mouth twisting in thought. “Does this have anything to do with Mork, by chance?” he asks, unsuccessfully hiding his grin when Pi rolls his eyes and mutters a small kind of. “Alright, well… judging by the fact Duean has yet to insist we go to his house and beat him up, it’s safe to assume this is something benign, correct?”

“Correct,” Pi mutters, glancing away. “He’d be at the hospital right now, though. Not his house.”

Wan raises an eyebrow at the additional information. “Alright, then… I’m all ears whenever you’re ready, Pi.”

A sigh escapes him before he can rein it in. This is something that’s been on his mind for a while now, and with their increasingly busy schedules, Pi can’t help but be a bit taken over by the thought and the solutions to overcome the nagging bit of loneliness that looms over him.

It was to be expected, of course. Neither of them went in blind to the fact that their respective paths would keep them away from each other, on occasion—but it still felt like a little piece of the universe was out to get them.

Pi sighs again, that same nagging loneliness pulling deep within his chest as he looks up. The look on Wan’s face is familiar—open curiosity, patience, and simple kindness: the same as when Pi was a kid. “I was wondering,” he starts slowly, heat crawling up his neck as the words take form in his mind and coat over his tongue. “How… how did you ask your boyfriend to move in with you?”

There’s a quick flash of surprise Pi sees on Wan’s face before it fades back into that same, safe kindness and his patient understanding. “Just ask,” Wan says, a little helplessly with a tiny shrug. “All I did was ask.”

“Ugh.” Pi rolls his eyes. That was not the kind of answer he’d been looking for. His voice holds a bit of bitterness as he says, “how bold of you.”

Wan laughs abruptly at that and shakes his head. “Now I get why you banished Duean from the room.”

“Well, yeah,” Pi bristles, indignant. “He has such a big mouth, Wan. If he knew I was thinking about asking Mork to move in with me, he’d pick up the phone and tell N’Meen faster than I could open my mouth to bribe him not to. And N’Meen is just so… N’Meen, sometimes—he’d hang up with Duean and call Mork and congratulate him and ask when he’d need to be free to help us move.”

Wan snorts, but the look on his face tells Pi that Wan thinks the same. After a moment, the look is gone and is replaced with what Pi likes to think is Wan’s ‘serious big brother’ mode.

“Pi,” he starts, and just the tone of his voice has Pi straightening up and nodding to confirm he’s paying attention. “You can’t just base how to ask something so important off of someone else’s actions. It may help, but you and I are two completely different people. One thing may work for me, and it may not for you, and the same applies for the other way around, too. There’s nothing wrong with that—uniqueness is something special, and I think that this family is a prime example of that. Whether that’s a good or a bad thing, well…” Wan trails off, the corner of his mouth curling into a smile, and it has Pi laughing, tension rolling off his shoulders.

Once the giggles die down, Wan continues.

“Everyone has someone out there that understands their uniqueness. You understand Mork’s, and Mork understands yours. You’ve got your own unique way you got about things that I’m sure Mork thinks is endearing. I know you’ll work something out.” Wan reaches out, flipping his hands so his palms are up, inviting Pi in. Pi sets his hands in Wan’s, a childlike happiness settling in his bones as Wan squeezes his hands. “I’m proud of you, Pi. I don’t get a lot of chances to tell you to your face, but I mean it. I’m so proud of you, little brother.”

Pi’s face scrunches up, fighting back the pleasant embarrassment that washes over him at Wan’s words as he thanks him, the gears in his brain already stirring to a start.

That’s how Pi finds himself in front of his laptop later that evening, his body folded in a way that looks awkward but is more than comfortable to him as he taps at the keyboard, adjusting errors and rewording phrases until it looks good. There’s a familiar sense of doubt, here, wrapped around a shaky bundle of anxiety as he watches the printer do its work, whirring to a stop once the page is completed.

He glances at his phone, heart thudding in his chest as he picks it up and unlocks it. The noises from downstairs fade away in the background as he taps on his and Mork’s messages, a smile quick to form at his lips once his eyes take in the message Mork had sent at the end of his lunch break.

Miss you. Love you.

Pi stares at the words, simple yet effective, making him forget all about his unease—and Mork must have this weird, sixth sense, because it’s then that Pi’s phone lights up, vibrating with an incoming call. He blinks down at his phone, eyes widening with realization before he hurriedly taps at the little green phone icon and presses his phone to the side of his face.

“Mork,” Pi greets, just a bit breathless. “I was just thinking about texting you.”

Mork hums, and even through the phone, it sounds like he’s teasing. “Missed me, did you?”

“I changed my mind,” Pi says, letting his sigh roll out of him dramatically. “I was just thinking about blocking you.” Mork laughs at that, loud and lovely into his ear, and it makes Pi laugh too, soft and quiet before he speaks again. “How was your evening?”

“Fine. Pretty busy,” Mork says. In the background, Pi hears a thud of something heavy dropping to the floor, and then there’s the soft sound of fabric against fabric. “I’m just happy to be home,” he sighs, confirming Pi’s unspoken question.

Home, Pi thinks, glancing at the paper he’d just printed no more than seven minutes ago. His throat suddenly goes dry, a chill racing down his spine although the room was more than warmth enough. “Uh…” he starts, clearing his throat. “What about your schedule tomorrow? Are you… still free?”

“You wanna see me that bad, Pi?”

“Yes,” Pi says immediately, and his blunt response must take Mork by surprise, judging by the beat of silence that follows, but his boyfriend is quick to recover.

“Good,” he says, a sleepy sort of happiness in his voice that has Pi’s heart racing. “I want to see you, too. Do you wanna come over for a date, or go out for one? I think my parents have some business party they have to go to tomorrow night, but if not, I’m sure they won’t care to have you over.”

Pi smiles, nodding to himself as if he’s thinking about it, but he already has his answer. “I want to come over,” he says, and because he can’t just not mention it, Pi adds, “I also… wanted to talk to you about something. It can wait until tomorrow, though. Promise.”

“Uh oh,” Mork mumbles, and while Pi can hear a hint of actual worry in his voice, it’s masked by the thick layer of teasing Mork puts in it. “What’s this about? Do I have a cavity or something?”

“Huh? I don’t know. Do you?”

“Uh,” Mork pauses. Pi hears him yawn, scratchy over the phone. “I don’t know?”

“I’m… sure your teeth are fine,” Pi says slowly, amusement beneath his confusion.

“But you’d check for me, right?”

“Uhm, I guess? It’s really not about your teeth, though.”

Mork’s reply is lost in the next yawn that pours out of him, and Pi has enough sense to take that as his cue and insist Mork just focus on resting up and eating a full meal. It takes them a minute—Mork whines without really whining, a pout clearly evident in his voice as he says don’t wanna sleep, wanna talk, to which Pi replies with you’ll see me tomorrow, that’s even better, right, so please, Mork, get some rest, to which Mork huffs and groans at, but finally complies to in the end.

That’s how, in turn, Pi finds himself in a situation not unlike the one he’d been in the day prior.

He’s pacing again, his anxious, thudding heart trapped beneath his crossed arms; but this time, his socked feet drag against the plush rug in Mork’s bedroom instead of the hard flooring of his own room. Mork sits at his bed, forearms to his thighs, hands dangling in the air between his knees. Pi doesn’t look at him, though—he keeps his gaze down, watching each of his careful steps, ignoring Mork’s gaze on him, curious and worried and amused all at the same time.

What the hell, Pi thinks, over and over, what the hell. He doesn’t understand why he’s so worried, so anxious—except, well, he does, and he can’t help but wonder if Wan had been this nervous, too.

This is such a leap, for Pi—but again, again, Mork must have this weird, sixth sense, because no matter how large of a leap Pi must go through to get whatever it is out, Mork takes the tiniest step forward, lessening that foreboding distance even if by just a little.

“Pi,” Mork says, tilting his head up as Pi comes to a stop in front of him.

“What?” Pi snaps. He can’t help it. “Are you going to say I’ll wear out the rug if I keep this up?”

“No, I wasn’t,” Mork tells him gently, amusement beneath his muted confusion. He straightens, spreading his legs further apart as he lifts his hands, making come here motions with his fingers. “I was going to ask you to come here.”

Pi hesitates, but the familiar smile on his boyfriend’s face is enough to have his hesitation fading away. He steps forward, reaching out for Mork the same as Mork reaches for him, shuffling closer until he’s standing between Mork’s legs.

“Something on your mind?” Mork asks after a moment, his hands a comforting weight on Pi’s hips.

Pi presses his lips together in a fine line, his thumb and index finger pinching up a portion of Mork’s shirt. He rubs at it, focusing on the quiet scratching noises of fabric against fabric. “Yeah,” he says quietly, with a small bob of his head. “Kind of.”

“Does this have anything to do with what you wanted to talk to me about?”

“It-It really isn’t anything bad,” Pi insists weakly, groaning at the expectant look Mork gives him from below. He eases away with a sigh, slipping his hands from Mork’s shoulders to pat at his pockets all the while ignoring the increasingly curious look his boyfriend directs toward him. Pi flips open his wallet once he’s dug it out, an indescribable feeling in the pit of his stomach as he procures a neatly folded piece of paper. He stares at it, his heart thudding and tightening in his chest as his stomach cartwheels against his other organs, but then Mork’s thumb starts making circles against the jut of his hipbone, and it becomes just a bit easier to breathe.

He glances down, and finds that he kind of hates the anxiousness he sees beneath Mork’s cool façade, like he’s waiting for something to happen, like something is about to slip away and go beyond his grasp and never return. Pi can’t help but think maybe that’s why the grip Mork has on his hips tighten, can’t help but think maybe that’s why Mork pulls him in a little bit closer.

“It really isn’t anything bad,” Pi tells him again, his weak insistence now replaced by certain reassurance. There’s a small flutter in his stomach, a little skip of his racing heart when he sees Mork’s eyes widen, just a fraction. He holds up the carefully folded piece of paper between them, and tips it so it’s leaning in his boyfriend’s direction: an offer.

Mork glances at it warily. “What is it?”

“Nothing bad,” Pi reminds him softly. “Have a read.”

Mork slips his hands from Pi’s hips reluctantly, an audible, shaky exhale of breath rushing out of him that the two of them choose to ignore. He takes the folded piece of paper slowly, tentatively, as if it’s edges would come alive and grow teeth and latch onto his fingers—and when that doesn’t happen, Mork finds himself opening the folds with less hesitation than he had when he had taken it from Pi’s grasp.

He isn’t too sure what he had been expecting, but it sure wasn’t another list. His eyes barely take in any of the words on the page before his head is tilting back, aiming another curious, confused look up at Pi, who just nods to the note and pats at his arm as if to say, c’mon, just read it.

There’s no headline on this one, so he starts with the numbered list.

“One,” Mork starts, his throat suddenly gone dry, “we don’t go to bed mad at each other.” He pauses, taking that in. Had they ever done that, before? Mork is sure he would probably remember such an instance, but he honestly can’t remember a time they ever did. He glances up again, and despite the obvious anxiousness in the tense set of Pi’s shoulders, Pi just nods his head, a small gesture for Mork to continue. “Two, we don’t leave without first saying goodbye if we aren’t leaving together,” he reads, and then he’s pausing again, his growing confusion slowly morphing into a fond, lingering suspicion.

“Three?” Pi prompts, a nervous edge to his voice.

“Three, uh—we… we split the chores as evenly as we can, given our schedules.”

“Four?”

“There’s…” Mork looks down at the paper, but all he finds is a list of three. “There’s not a fourth line on the list, Pi.”

“Yeah, I…I couldn’t really think of anything else after that,” Pi admits with a laugh, sheepish. Mork raises his head just in time to watch as Pi scratches at the back of his neck, his lips tugged up in a shy smile.

“Pi, this is…?” Mork trails off, looking back and forth between the paper and his boyfriend.

“’The Terms of Our Moving in Together,’” Pi says, reciting what he’d named the file. He takes a moment to wipe his sweaty palms against his thighs, suddenly too hyperaware of his pounding heart, the temperature in the room, and the fact he’s crowding into Mork’s personal space. “I—I didn’t want to put that at the top. It would have ruined the surprise,” Pi says, his gaze dancing around the room until he finally allows himself to look down at Mork, who looks up at him like he can’t quite believe what’s in front of him is real.

“This is what you meant when you said you wanted to talk to me about something?” Mork asks in a rush, lifting the paper in gesture.

Pi nods, swallowing against the lump in his throat. He keeps his eyes on Mork’s as he shuffles just a bit closer, reaching out until he’s able to set his hands on his shoulders again. “Mork, I… I want to move in with you, if that’s what you want, too. I know we’ll still both be… pretty busy, for a while,” he says softly, a tinge of bitterness in his voice as he says the words aloud, but the pang of loneliness that swells at the reminder is enough to have his next words rush out of him. “B-But, it’s… I don’t want us to be missing each other. I want to come home to you. I want you to come home to me. Mork, I-I want—“

“I agree,” Mork interrupts, breathless, as if the words couldn’t leave his mouth quick enough. “I agree. I agree.”

“A-Are you bullying me? I’m not done talking. Let me finish—“

“No,” Mork says, a strange strain to his voice as he shakes his head, like he’s trying his best to control the depth of his emotions. He sets the creased paper to the side, mindful to where he places it, because he plans to keep it just as he did with the first set of terms Pi ever gave him. “This is something I’ve thought about, too. There’s nothing more to say,” Mork tells him, slipping his hands to Pi’s waist. “I agree.”

Pi lets Mork pull him closer, a dazed sort of awe now settled in his chest, beating right along with his heart. This is something I’ve thought about, too. He lifts a hand from Mork’s shoulder, the urge to touch his boyfriend too strong to ignore. “You’ve thought about it, too?” he asks softly, shaky, with his palm to Mork’s cheek and his thumb gently grazing his skin. “You’re sure?”

“Yes,” Mork says, tilting his face into the touch, “yes.”

“Then…” Pi trails off, that dazed awe now fading into an overwhelming sense of fondness. He grazes his thumb against Mork’s cheek one last time, enjoying the way his boyfriend leans into his touch as if he couldn’t get enough. Pi drops his hand to Mork’s shoulder, his smile widening just a bit more as Mork lifts an eyebrow up at him with a questioning hum. “From this moment on, you and I… can start looking for apartments together.”

“What are you talking about?” Mork asks. “We’re not done yet.”

Pi tilts his head, faltering only for a moment as a strange sense of déjà vu crawls up his spine. “Huh?”

“I agree to the terms,” he says, and it’s then that Pi realizes why this is so familiar. It’s not hard to recognize the glint in Mork’s eye, playful and mischievous; and it isn’t hard at all to pick out the teasing tilt of his voice that comes laced with affection. It all manages to do something, to Pi—his stomach flips and his heart flutters; his mind races to catch up because he knows exactly what’s to come next. Mork coaxes him just a bit closer, effectively lulling Pi from his thoughts as he tightens his hold on his hips. “But I haven’t stamped it yet.”

Pi opens his mouth to speak, but all that comes out is a breathless, rush of laughter as Mork tugs him to the side and climbs on top of him. His back sinks into the mattress, and despite the fact they just barely manage to not knock their heads together, Pi’s still laughing, wiggling and squirming beneath Mork to get comfortable.

“Mork,” Pi says between giggles, spreading his legs to accommodate his boyfriend coming closer. His hands slide up, past Mork’s collarbones and to the curve where his neck and shoulders meet; one hand goes up a bit more, fingers threading into Mork’s hair while the other stays settled at Mork’s neck, thumb to his jaw and a finger behind his ear. He feels so full of emotion, bursting at the seams as his cheeks sting with the intensity of his loud, unfiltered joy. Mork settles in closer, crowding into his space like it’s a second home, because Pi has never denied him the need to be any closer.

“Pi,” Mork murmurs, a sigh more than anything as his voice wavers. He inclines his head, pressing his forehead to Pi’s—but he can’t help but lean into his boyfriend’s touch, too, never tiring of the way Pi touches him. Each little, careful swipe of his thumb has Mork’s heart aching, has his brain moments away from short circuiting. There’s a part of him that hopes he never gets used to this, but there’s also another part of him that withers away, because it might just be the death of him.

“Mork,” Pi sighs, again and again, a bit quieter each time. His heart has settled, but every beat of it is strong in his ears and sharp in his chest: a quiet reminder, an urgent need, and he can’t help but wonder if Mork feels it, too. He closes his eyes and tilts his chin up, a silent invitation, a wordless inquiry, and hopes that the noise that escapes him doesn’t sound as desperately needy as he thinks it does as his lips brush against Mork’s.

He feels a shaky exhale brush against his skin, and then there’s the gentlest of pressure against his lips.