Chapter Text
The early morning sun streamed through the windows, casting a warm glow on Ling and Orm as they sat at a small kitchen table. Their plates held half-eaten pancakes, a luxury they rarely indulged in during their usually hectic shooting schedule. But today was different.
They had wrapped up filming unexpectedly early, a stroke of luck that left them with a rare stretch of free time. Ling's apartment, being closer to the set, had become their impromptu breakfast spot. The familiar comfort of Ling's space added an extra layer of intimacy to their shared meal.
Orm fidgeted with her fork, her energy palpable even in stillness, while Ling sat with perfect posture, her movements deliberate and graceful. The contrast between Orm's vibrant presence and Ling's serene demeanor was as apparent as ever, even in this relaxed setting.
Orm leaned forward, eyes sparkling with mischief. "So, I've got something to confess. It's a bit embarrassing."
Ling tilted her head slightly, a ghost of a smile on her lips. "Now this I've got to hear. What's got you all worked up?"
The younger woman took a deep breath, her cheeks flushed. "Remember how I mentioned my high school sweetheart, Alex?"
Ling nodded slowly, her voice soft and measured. "The one who broke your heart? Yes, I recall."
"Well," Orm winced dramatically, her hands fluttering in the air. "Up until we started filming together, I may have been... kind of stalking their social media."
Eyebrows arched delicately, a hint of amusement in her eyes, Ling asked, "Kind of stalking? Is there such a thing?"
Orm laughed nervously, running a hand through her hair, "Okay, okay. I was full-on, notifications-on, 3 AM scrolling through years-old posts stalking."
"And you've stopped?" Ling leaned in slightly, her usually reserved demeanor gave way to curiosity, "Just like that?"
"Yeah," Orm smiled softly, her usual exuberance tempered by vulnerability. "Since we started working together, suddenly, Alex's posts didn't seem so important anymore."
A faint blush colored Ling's cheeks, her voice barely above a whisper, "Are you saying I'm a better distraction than your long-lost love?"
Orm met Ling's eyes, her gaze uncharacteristically steady, "Maybe. Or maybe you're the start of something new."
Orm's comfort with these feelings stemmed from her upbringing. Having attended an all-girls school, Orm had been exposed to same-sex attraction from an early age. In that environment, girls admiring or even falling for other girls was commonplace and accepted without question. Crushing on seniors, swooning over pretty teachers – it was all part of the normal spectrum of attraction. This experience had shaped Orm's perspective, teaching her that expressing admiration or attraction for someone, regardless of their gender, was natural and unremarkable. To Orm, it was always about the person, not their gender.
This background had fostered in Orm an open-mindedness and freedom in matters of the heart that now allowed her to approach her growing feelings for Ling without fear or hesitation. Love, in Orm's world, was simply love – uncomplicated by societal expectations or gender norms.
"I... um..." Ling is now visibly flustered, her composure slipping as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "That's quite a secret, Orm."
The younger girl grinned broadly, bouncing slightly in her seat, "Your turn now. Fair's fair. What deep, dark secret would you like to share, Miss Lingling Kwong?" When Orm feels like teasing the older woman, she would oftentimes use her full name.
Ling had just lifted her teacup to her lips, savoring the aroma of her favorite jasmine blend. As Orm's words registered, her eyes widened imperceptibly. For a split second, her usually unflappable demeanor cracked. The teacup froze midway to her mouth, her fingers tightening almost imperceptibly around the delicate porcelain.
A small droplet of tea escaped, leaving a faint stain on the pristine tablecloth. Ling's gaze flicked to it momentarily, a fleeting distraction from the sudden tension that gripped her. She swallowed hard, her throat working visibly as she slowly lowered the cup back to its saucer with a soft clink.
The moment stretched, heavy with unspoken words. Orm, usually so quick to fill silences, waited with uncharacteristic patience, her eyes fixed on Ling's face. The older woman's cheeks colored faintly, a rare display of emotion that she quickly sought to mask.
Ling regained her composure, a serene mask sliding back into place, "Nice try Nong, but my secrets are staying secret. For now."
Her voice was steady, but there was a new undercurrent of... something. Vulnerability? Anticipation? It was gone as quickly as it appeared, leaving Orm to wonder if she had imagined it.
Orm pouted playfully, her whole body seeming to droop. "Come on, I bared my soul here!"
As Orm's shoulders slumped dramatically, Ling felt a familiar warmth bloom in her chest. It was a sensation she'd grown accustomed to over the past few months, one that had taken root during their first casting call and blossomed through grueling workshop days and long nights of filming.
Ling's mind drifted to their journey together. She remembered how Orm had bounded into the audition room, all bright smiles and infectious laughter, immediately filling the space with her vibrant energy. At first, Ling had found it overwhelming, almost jarring against her own reserved nature. But as days turned into weeks, and weeks into months, that energy had become a constant she looked forward to, a ray of sunshine cutting through the often-stressful atmosphere of their work.
Their growing closeness had surprised Ling. Orm's tendency to be clingy - a trait that would have once made Ling uncomfortable - now felt natural, even comforting. The younger woman's casual touches, her habit of taking Lings hand and intertwining their fingers in a soft clasp, linking their arms as they walked to set, or the way she'd rest her head on Ling's shoulder during breaks, had all become a part of their daily rhythm.
Ling's gaze softened as she watched Orm's exaggerated pout. The rainbows-and-butterflies attitude that Orm seemed to exude effortlessly had become a breath of fresh air in Ling's often too-serious world. It was as if Orm's endless optimism and joy were slowly chipping away at the walls Ling had built around herself over the years.
Their hands, resting close on the table, were nearly touching. Ling realized with a start that she had unconsciously moved her fingers closer to Orm's, seeking that familiar contact. It was a testament to how far they'd come, how comfortable she'd grown with their closeness. Hugging and holding hands had become their norm, a silent language of support and affection that spoke volumes in the spaces between their words.
As Orm's pout deepened, her eyes sparkling with a mix of mischief and hope, Ling felt a tug at her heart. She found herself wanting to give in, to share a piece of herself with this woman who had, somehow, become such an integral part of her life.
Ling smirked slightly, her eyes twinkling with hidden mirth, "And I appreciated every second of it. But a girl's got to keep some mystery, right?"
Ling felt a pang of guilt at the dejection in Orm's voice. She watched as the younger woman's usual vibrant energy dimmed slightly, her shoulders slumping in genuine disappointment rather than playful dramatics. It was a rare sight, one that tugged at Ling's heartstrings more than she cared to admit.
For a moment, Ling wrestled with her instinct to maintain her carefully constructed walls. But as she looked at Orm, remembering all the times the younger woman's openness had brightened her days, she felt her resolve crumble.
Then softly, Ling leaned in slightly, "Alright, perhaps I can share one small secret. What is it that you want to know?""
Orm's head snapped up, eyes wide with surprise and delight. The sudden rekindling of her enthusiasm was almost palpable, and Ling couldn't help but smile in response.
Orm hesitated, her usual exuberance giving way to a rare moment of uncertainty. She fidgeted with the edge of her napkin, her eyes darting between Ling's face and the table.
Speaking softly, her voice tinged with a mix of hope and apprehension, "I just... I thought it would be nice to have something that's just ours, you know? Like a little piece of you that the rest of the world doesn't get to see. But I don't want to push you if you're not comfortable. Your boundaries matter to me, P'Ling."
She looked up, meeting Ling's eyes with a gaze that was both tender and worried, silently conveying her fear of having overstepped and potentially upset the woman who had become so important to her.
Ling listened, hearing the sincerity resonating in Orm's voice. In the cutthroat world of entertainment, where today's friend could become tomorrow's rival, Ling had learned to keep her guard up. But from that first day at the casting call, there was something about Orm that had pierced through her defenses.
Perhaps it was Orm's effervescent energy, a stark contrast to Ling's own reserved nature. Or maybe it was the inexplicable sense that they simply fit together, like two perfectly matched puzzle pieces creating a beautiful whole. Introvert met extrovert, yin found yang, and their dynamic sparked something truly special.
Their connection hadn't gone unnoticed. Castmates, crew, and even fans often remarked that one couldn't be mentioned without the other. Ling and Orm - their names had become inextricably linked, as if destiny itself had conspired to bring them together.
When they stepped into their roles as Fahlada and Earn for "The Secret of Us," it felt effortless. The characters seemed tailor-made for them, or perhaps they had simply breathed life into the roles so completely that it was impossible to imagine anyone else in their place. Their on-screen chemistry was palpable, electric, generating buzz even before the first episode aired.
Both blessed with runway-worthy looks, Ling and Orm had quickly become the darlings of the entertainment world. Fans were captivated not just by their individual beauty, but by the magic that seemed to spark between them. The rest of the cast, equally stunning in their own right, complemented the lead duo perfectly, creating a visual feast that promised to make "The Secret of Us" an instant classic.
As Ling reflected on their journey, she realized that perhaps it was time to let her walls down, just a little. After all, if there was anyone she could trust with a piece of herself, it was Orm.
Ling's eyes softened, a warmth spreading through them as she gazed at Orm. With a gentle voice that held a hint of playfulness, she asked, "Do you trust me?"
The question caught Orm off guard. Her head, previously bowed in contemplation, snapped up so quickly it was a wonder she didn't hurt herself. The sudden, almost comical motion elicited a rare, melodious giggle from Ling, the sound filling the room with an unexpected lightness.
"P'Ling, that's not funny," Orm protested, her cheeks flushing with a mix of embarrassment and amusement. Then, her voice taking on a hint of sass, she added, "And to answer your question, yes, I do trust you. In case that wasn't obvious already."
Just like that, the momentary vulnerability vanished, and Ling recognized the return of Orm's usual effervescent self. The familiar spark in Orm's eyes brought a smile to Ling's lips, one that reached her eyes in a way few things did.
Without a word, Ling extended her hand across the table, palm up – an invitation. It was a simple gesture, yet it carried the weight of unspoken emotions. Ling had grown to cherish these moments of connection with Orm, finding an unexpected comfort in the warmth of the younger woman's touch. Each time their hands intertwined, Ling felt a sense of security wash over her, as if Orm's grip anchored her in a world that often felt tumultuous.
Typically, Ling shied away from initiating such contact, her reserved nature holding her back. But something had shifted, a subtle change in the air between them. As Orm's fingers tentatively met hers, Ling realized that this might be the beginning of a new chapter – one where she allowed herself to reach out more often, to seek the connection she craved.
The gentle pressure of Orm's hand in hers felt like a silent promise, a tangible representation of the trust they'd just affirmed. In that moment, surrounded by the soft morning light and the lingering aroma of breakfast, Ling felt a sense of possibility unfurling before them.
To the world, Sirilak Kwong is the epitome of grace and reserve. Her poise and elegance evoke an almost regal aura, often leaving others in awe and, at times, intimidated. This carefully cultivated image serves as both armor and stage, allowing her to navigate the spotlight with measured control.
Yet beneath this polished exterior lies a spirit yearning for adventure. In rare moments of solitude, away from prying eyes, Ling's true nature emerges – curious, bold, and hungry for new experiences. Her occasional workout videos offer but a glimpse of the physical prowess she keeps largely hidden from public view.
At her core, Ling guards a precious secret, one that represents her last bastion of privacy in a world that constantly demands more. This closely held part of herself is not merely a detail, but a testament to her desire for authenticity in a world of carefully crafted public images. It's her way of maintaining a sense of self amidst the often superficial nature of celebrity life. It's a reminder that even in the glare of fame, she remains, at heart, a woman seeking genuine connection and the freedom to be her true self.
Ling's grip on Orm's hand was gentle but firm as she led her down a dimly lit hallway. Their footsteps echoed softly, creating a rhythm that matched the quickening of Orm's heartbeat. As they approached what appeared to be a separate garage, Orm's curiosity battled with a hint of nervous anticipation.
Orm, with a nervous chuckle, said "P'Ling, when I asked for your deep, dark secret, I didn't mean it quite so... literally. We're not walking into a horror movie set, are we?"
Ling glanced back with a mysterious smile, "Don't worry, Nong. It's nothing sinister, I promise."
They came to a stop in front of an unassuming door. Ling paused, her hand hovering over the doorknob. In that moment of hesitation, Orm could sense the weight of what was about to happen. This wasn't just about satisfying curiosity; it was Ling choosing to let her in, to share a part of herself she'd kept hidden.
Ling turned to face Orm, her voice soft, "Are you ready?"
"Always." The younger woman squeezed Ling's hand reassuringly.
Ling's eyes softened at Orm's words. She took a deep breath, centering herself. Before turning the knob, she gave Orm an assured smile, accompanied by a gentle squeeze of her hand. It was an unspoken language between them, a promise that everything would be okay.
As her fingers closed around the doorknob, Ling realized that this moment of vulnerability, this choice to open up, was as much for herself as it was for Orm. There was no turning back now, but looking into Orm's trusting eyes, Ling knew that this was exactly where she wanted to be.
"Well, here goes nothing..." Ling said with a mix of excitement and nervousness.
With a twist of her wrist, Ling began to open the door, ready to invite Orm into a part of her world she'd never shared before.
As Ling slowly opened the door, motion sensors triggered, and light flooded the space. They stepped into a garage that was far from ordinary - it was a sanctuary of modern design and passionate dedication. The pristine white walls gave the room a clean, almost gallery-like atmosphere, contrasting beautifully with the array of riding gear meticulously arranged throughout the space.
Orm's eyes widened as she took in the sight. One wall showcased a collection of helmets, each unique in design and color. Another displayed an assortment of gloves, their leather gleaming under the lights. Knee pads, boots, and scarves were artfully arranged, each item clearly chosen with care. Despite the technical nature of the equipment, there was an undeniable feminine touch in the layout and decor.
So engrossed was Orm in her visual exploration that she unconsciously released Ling's hand, drawn deeper into this unexpected world. Her gaze darted from corner to corner, drinking in every detail, every nuance of this hidden facet of Ling's life.
When Orm's eyes finally settled on the center of the room, her breath caught in her throat. There stood Ling, a proud smile illuminating her face, positioned beside a motorcycle that was nothing short of a work of art. The bike's classic lines and gleaming chrome spoke of both power and elegance, much like Ling herself.
Orm, her voice a mix of shock and awe, "P'Ling!!!"
The exclamation burst from Orm's lips, loud in the quiet space. Ling's laughter, rich and genuine, filled the air in response to Orm's stunned expression. It was a rare sight to see the usually chatty Orm rendered speechless, her mouth agape in surprise.
"Meet my girl, Emerald." Ling introduced with a graceful sweeping gesture towards the motorcycle.
Her voice was filled with affection as she introduced the bike, as if presenting a dear friend rather than a machine. The way Ling's eyes sparkled as she looked at the motorcycle, then back at Orm, conveyed the depth of what this moment meant to her - sharing not just a secret, but a passion, a part of herself she'd kept hidden from the world.
Orm finding her voice, stepped closer, "P'Ling... this is... incredible. I never would have guessed..."
With a mischievous grin, Ling answered, "Well, that was kind of the point."
"This," Ling said, her voice barely above a whisper, "is my pride and joy."
Orm's eyes widened as she took in the gleaming machine. Its chrome accents caught the light, winking invitingly.
Ling ran her fingers along the smooth curves of the fuel tank. "It's a classic Honda CB with a 350cc engine. But that's just where the story begins."
As they circled the bike, Ling's usual reserved demeanor melted away. "I bought it with my first real paycheck as an actress. But I didn't want just any bike—I wanted something uniquely mine."
She crouched down, inviting Orm to join her. "See how it blends old and new? We redesigned it as a modern café racer. My dad and I," her voice softened with the memory, "we spent months finding the perfect shop, choosing every detail."
Orm reached out, hesitating before touching the supple leather seat. Ling nodded encouragement.
"It's more than just a bike," Ling continued, standing and leaning against the workbench. Her eyes seemed to look beyond the garage walls. "It's my escape. When the world gets too loud, when I need inspiration, or even when I'm bursting with happiness—I ride."
She turned to Orm, a soft smile playing on her lips. "Sometimes, I ride just because I can. Out there, I'm not Ling the actress. I'm just... me."
Ling's vulnerability hung in the air between them. She'd shared more than just her bike; she'd offered Orm a glimpse of her true self, away from the cameras and expectations.
Orm stepped closer, her hand finding Ling's. "Thank you," she said softly, "for sharing this with me.'"
Orm stood quietly, her eyes never leaving Ling. As if pulled by an invisible force, she found herself drifting closer to the other woman. An immense sense of awe and admiration washed over her. Who wouldn't be captivated? Ling wasn't just an excellent artist but an extraordinary human being.
The weight of this moment wasn't lost on Orm. This wasn't just about a motorcycle; it was Ling entrusting her with a piece of her soul. Orm felt the privilege of being allowed into this sacred space, knowing how few people ever got to see this side of Ling—the person behind the actress, raw and unscripted.
Tears welled up in Orm's eyes, and she blinked rapidly, trying to hold them back. The torrent of emotions inside her was almost overwhelming. Here she was, standing before the woman she was slowly, inevitably falling in love with.
Lost in her emotional whirlwind, Orm barely registered Ling's movements. With gentle hands, Ling reached out, guiding Orm towards the bike. In a fluid motion that felt like a dance, Ling swung her leg over the seat and helped Orm settle behind her.
"Here," Ling murmured, her voice soft and intimate in the quiet garage. She took Orm's arms and wrapped them around her waist. The simple act felt profoundly tender, and Orm found herself leaning forward, resting her head on Ling's left shoulder. The familiar scent of Ling's perfume mixed with leather and motor oil, creating an intoxicating blend that was uniquely her.
Ling remained still, giving Orm time to collect herself. She could feel the subtle tremors in Orm's body, the quick, shallow breaths gradually slowing and deepening. When she sensed Orm starting to relax, her body melding more comfortably against Ling's back, Ling spoke again, her voice a soothing whisper.
"You know," she began, her hands resting lightly on Orm's where they clasped around her waist, "this bike has been my confidant through so many moments in my life."
Orm lifted her head slightly, her chin resting on Ling's shoulder. "Tell me," she whispered back, her breath warm against Ling's ear.
Ling smiled, leaning back slightly into Orm's embrace.
"I fell twice on this bike," Ling began, her voice a mix of fondness and nostalgia.
The words seemed to pierce through Orm's temporary calm, bringing her tears back to the surface. Her arms tightened around Ling's waist, fingers clutching at the fabric of her shirt. A part of Orm feared that this intimate moment—this vulnerable, unguarded version of Ling—might dissolve like mist if she didn't hold on tight enough. The long hours of filming had blurred the lines between reality and fiction more than once, and Orm couldn't shake the fear that this might be just another beautifully crafted scene playing out in her exhausted mind.
Sensing the shift in Orm's demeanor, Ling's hand found Orm's, her thumb tracing soothing circles on her skin. "Hey," she murmured, her voice gentle and reassuring. "I'm okay, see? I'm right here." She leaned back further, allowing more of her weight to rest against Orm's chest, a tangible reminder of her presence.
The steady thrum of Ling's heartbeat against Orm's palm grounded her in reality. This was no dream—it was beautifully, achingly real. Ling's heart quickened slightly, touched by Orm's raw display of emotion. It had been a long time since someone outside her family had shown such genuine concern for her well-being.
Wanting to lighten the mood, Ling injected a playful tone into her voice. "Well, let me tell you about the first time I crashed. It was quite the adventure." She shifted slightly, reaching down to roll up her left pant leg. "See this scar here?"
Orm loosened her grip, allowing Ling to move. Her eyes followed Ling's fingers as they traced an almost invisible line just below her knee.
"Barely noticeable now, right? But oh, the drama it caused!" Ling chuckled, the sound vibrating through her body and into Orm's. "Mom was so mad, she banned me from even looking at my bike for three months. Can you believe it, Nong Orm? Three whole months!"
Orm couldn't help but smile at the indignation in Ling's voice. She could easily picture a younger Ling, full of restless energy, counting down the days until she could ride again.
"It was torture," Ling continued, her free hand absently stroking the handlebar of the bike. "Waiting for the wound to heal, seeing my bike just sitting there, taunting me..." She trailed off, lost in the memory.
Orm rested her chin on Ling's shoulder again, her breath warm against Ling's ear as she spoke. "Your mom must have been so worried. And rightfully so." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "I'm glad you're here."
Ling turned her head slightly, their faces now mere inches apart. "Me too," she said softly. "Me too.'"
"'Then my second crash..." Ling paused, a hint of mischief in her voice. "It wasn't really a big deal. I was riding on a beach, got a little distracted—"
"Ouch!" Ling's story was abruptly interrupted by her own yelp of surprise.
"Orm! What was that for?" Ling asked, rubbing the spot where Orm had playfully pinched her side.
Orm's pout was back in full force, her eyes narrowing playfully. "Your eyes must have wandered to some beautiful beach-goers, didn't you?"
A slow smile spread across Ling's face as she turned slightly to meet Orm's gaze. "So it wasn't you that I saw then?"
The unexpected flirtation caught Orm off guard. Her face flushed a deep red, and she quickly buried it in the crook of Ling's neck, seeking refuge in the soft skin there. Despite it being Ling's usual 'no-touch zone', she found herself welcoming Orm's presence. It wasn't mere tolerance; there was an inexplicable sense of safety in Orm's touch.
Their shared giggles filled the garage, eventually fading into a comfortable silence. Neither woman moved to break their embrace, both clinging to the moment as if it might slip away.
The contrast between them was striking—Orm, known for her "aggressive" nature, and Ling, more subdued and reserved. Yet, in their differences, they found a perfect balance. Orm's infectious energy brought out a playfulness in Ling that few had seen before. It was a change many had noticed since the two had grown closer.
Ling reveled in Orm's sunshine-like presence. In an industry often shrouded in artifice, Orm's genuine warmth was a beacon, and Ling found herself constantly drawn to its light.
When Orm finally spoke again, she lifted her head, meeting Ling's eyes. Their faces were so close that the slightest movement would bring their lips together. "Thank you, P'Ling," Orm whispered, her words laden with unspoken emotion.
Ling felt the weight of those simple words, understanding the depth of feeling behind them. Somehow, this vibrant young woman had managed to slip past her carefully constructed defenses, carving out a permanent place in her heart.
Ling found herself leaning in, but not for a kiss. Instead, she gently nudged her nose against Orm's—an eskimo kiss, as intimate and tender as any first love's embrace. Neither flinched nor moved away, content in the quiet intimacy of the moment.
The air around them seemed to hum with unspoken possibilities. Ling's heart raced, a mix of exhilaration and nervousness coursing through her veins. She'd always prided herself on her self-control, but Orm had a way of making her want to throw caution to the wind.
Suddenly, as if seized by an impulse, Ling found herself asking a question she never thought she'd voice to anyone.
"I know this may sound crazy, and after the two crashes I just told you about, it might seem like I'm a bad driver, but I'm really not." Her eyes locked onto Orm's, conveying a seriousness that contrasted with their earlier playfulness.
Orm's gaze softened, a small smile playing on her lips. "I believe you," she said, her voice filled with unwavering trust. Because she did... she always had and always would.
Ling took a deep breath, hesitating for a moment before pushing forward. "So, I was thinking... would you like to go out on a bike ride with me?"
The question hung in the air, heavy with implications. Orm's eyes widened, her lips parting in surprise. "What?" she managed, her voice barely above a whisper.
Ling couldn't help but feel a small thrill of satisfaction. Twice in less than thirty minutes, she'd rendered the usually talkative Orm speechless. It was endearing, really, and Ling found herself wanting to take control of their dynamic more often. Orm had always been the initiator—in conversations, in physical contact—and Ling decided it was time to balance the scales.
"Would you like to go out on a bike ride with me?"' Ling repeated, her voice steady despite the nervous flutter in her stomach.
True to form, Orm's face broke into a radiant smile, her enthusiastic "Yes!" echoing in the garage.
What followed was a flurry of activity as they prepared for the ride. Ten minutes of fumbling with bike gear turned into a playful dance of stolen hugs and cheek kisses, courtesy of Orm, of course. Ling found herself laughing more than she had in years, her usual reserve melting away in the warmth of Orm's affection.
Finally suited up, Ling donned her favorite gear—a fitted leather jacket in deep, burnished black over a white t-shirt, sturdy riding jeans hugging her legs, and ankle-high boots completing the ensemble. Short cuff gloves in matching brown leather and a helmet with the classic, round shape favored by vintage café racers topped off the look.
Orm couldn't help but stare, drinking in the sight of Ling looking devastatingly beautiful and effortlessly cool. She felt a bit self-conscious in her own outfit, being a novice to the world of motorcycle gear. But they'd managed to find pieces that fit her taller frame, and Ling's approving nod boosted her confidence.
As Orm adjusted her jacket, a wave of nostalgia washed over her. She recalled the times on set when she'd 'borrow' Ling's cardigan, claiming she was cold or that Ling's clothes were softer. In truth, she craved the lingering scent of Ling's perfume, a comforting presence when the real thing was out of reach. Orm's mind drifted to the night she'd accidentally taken one of Ling's cardigans home, how she'd slept with it clutched to her chest, dreaming it was Ling in her arms.
"Everything okay?" Ling's voice broke through Orm's reverie.
Orm blinked, realizing she'd been lost in thought. "Yes, P'Ling," she replied, a faint blush coloring her cheeks. "Just excited."
Ling's eyes softened, a knowing smile playing on her lips. She reached out, adjusting Orm's collar with gentle hands. "You look perfect," she said softly, her fingers lingering a moment longer than necessary.
The air between them crackled with unspoken emotions. Orm's heart raced, not from nervousness about the impending ride, but from the intensity of Ling's gaze and the tenderness of her touch.
"Ready?" Ling asked, her hand finding Orm's and giving it a reassuring squeeze.
Orm nodded, her earlier enthusiasm now tempered with a deep sense of trust and affection. "Ready," she confirmed.
As they approached the final stages of preparation, Ling swung her leg over the bike with practiced ease. She turned the ignition, the engine roaring to life beneath her. A gentle twist of the throttle sent a thrumming vibration through the machine, warming it up. Methodically, she checked her lights, adjusted her side mirrors, and confirmed the fuel gauge showed a full tank.
Ling was about to invite Orm to hop on when she noticed the younger woman struggling with her helmet. Without hesitation, she dismounted and approached Orm.
"Here, let me help," Ling said softly, her hands gently taking the helmet from Orm's fumbling fingers. With careful movements, she positioned the helmet on Orm's head, ensuring it sat snugly and securely. Her fingers brushed against Orm's skin as she fastened the strap, sending a shiver down both their spines.
Orm felt a mix of embarrassment at her clumsiness and warmth at Ling's attentiveness. "I feel a bit silly," she admitted, her voice muffled by the helmet.
Ling's eyes crinkled with affection. "Don't be. Everyone starts somewhere." Her hand lingered on Orm's shoulder. "I'm just happy you're here, sharing this with me."
The sincerity in Ling's voice made Orm's heart swell. She followed Ling back to the bike, watching as the older woman remounted with fluid grace.
"Hop on," Ling invited, patting the seat behind her.
Orm climbed on, her arms instinctively wrapping around Ling's waist. The familiar embrace felt different in this context, more intimate somehow.
"Can you hear me okay?" Ling's voice came through clearly in Orm's helmet.
"Yes!" Orm replied, perhaps a bit too enthusiastically. "This is so cool!"
Ling chuckled. "I'm glad you like it. I installed these intercoms mainly for music and to keep in touch with my parents. They worry when I ride out on my own."
As they prepared to leave the garage, Ling's concern surfaced again. "You okay back there?"
Orm, momentarily forgetting about the intercom, gave an enthusiastic thumbs up.
Ling's laughter filled Orm's ears. "You know you can just talk, right? I can hear you perfectly."
"Oops! Sorry, P'Ling Ling," Orm giggled. "Yes, I'm ready!"
"Okay then. Hold on tight, Teerak," Ling said, the term of endearment slipping out unconsciously as she carefully maneuvered the bike onto the main road.
Orm's breath caught in her throat at the word "Teerak". Her arms loosened slightly in surprise, earning her a gentle scolding from Ling.
"I just said to hold on tight, Nong," Ling reminded her, concern evident in her voice. "I promise I won't go fast, but you need to hold onto me securely so you won't fall."
"If only you knew," Orm thought, "I think I've already fallen..."
Aloud, she said, "I'm sorry, it won't happen again." Her arms tightened around Ling's waist, reveling in the closeness.
As they accelerated, the world around them began to blur. The wind whispered past their helmets, carrying with it the promise of adventure. Orm pressed herself closer to Ling's back, feeling the steady rhythm of her breathing.
"You okay?" Ling checked in again, her voice soft in Orm's ears.
"More than okay," Orm replied, her voice filled with wonder. "This is... incredible."
Ling smiled, unseen by Orm but heard in her voice. "It gets better. Wait till we hit the open road."
As they navigated through the city streets, Orm found herself mesmerized by the fluid way Ling handled the bike. Every turn, every adjustment seemed like a dance, and Orm was grateful to be Ling's partner in this moment.
The buildings began to thin out, giving way to more open spaces. Ling accelerated slightly, the increased speed sending a thrill through both of them.
The early Sunday morning traffic in Thailand was mercifully light, allowing Ling and Orm to escape the city's confines with relative ease. The urban landscape gradually gave way to lush countryside, a tapestry of green unfolding before them.
Their journey was briefly interrupted when Orm sheepishly requested a pit stop. "P'Ling," she said, her voice tinged with embarrassment, "I hate to ask, but... I really need to pee."
Ling chuckled warmly, immediately scanning her GPS for the nearest gas station.
Once they were back on the road, Ling's thoughts turned to music. "Would you mind if I played some tunes?" she asked, her finger hovering over the intercom's music control.
"Not at all!" Orm replied enthusiastically. "I'd love to hear what you listen to when you ride."
With a smile, Ling queued up her favorite "on the road" playlist. The first notes of a Korean OST filled their helmets, and Ling felt herself relax even further into the ride.
Though she couldn't understand the lyrics, Ling found herself swept away by the emotive melodies and powerful vocals. Each song seemed to paint a different emotional landscape, perfectly complementing the physical one they were traversing. The music evoked a kaleidoscope of feelings - joy, excitement, melancholy, longing - all intertwining with the sense of freedom that came with the open road.
As they cruised along, Ling found herself reflecting on why these songs resonated so deeply with her. Perhaps it was the way they mirrored the ebb and flow of life's journey, or how they sparked memories of past experiences and dreams of future ones. Whatever the reason, the music seemed to amplify the already potent emotions of sharing this ride with Orm.
Behind her, Orm was having her own musical epiphany. She'd never paid much attention to Korean OSTs before, but hearing them in this context - the wind rushing past, the rhythmic purr of the engine, the warmth of Ling's body against hers - gave the music a new dimension. She found herself swaying slightly to the beat, careful not to disrupt Ling's control of the bike.
Ling, ever attentive, frequently checked on her passenger. "How are you doing back there?" she'd ask, her voice cutting through the music. "Is the speed okay? We can go slower if you'd like."
Orm's responses were always enthusiastic. "I'm great!" she'd reply, or "This is perfect, Ling Ling!" Her occasional squeals of delight, especially when Ling masterfully navigated a curved road, were music to Ling's ears.
Despite her own comfort with higher speeds, Ling kept their pace modest, hovering around 50kph - a far cry from her usual 80kph when riding solo. But seeing the countryside at this leisurely pace, feeling Orm's arms wrapped securely around her waist, hearing her joyful reactions - it all made the slower speed more than worthwhile.
As they rounded a particularly beautiful bend, the road opening up to reveal a stunning valley view, Ling felt a surge of emotion. This wasn't just Orm's first time riding with her; it was the first time Ling had ever shared this deeply personal experience with anyone. The realization made her heart swell.
"Orm?" she said softly, during a lull between songs.
"Yes, P'Ling?" Orm replied, her voice warm and attentive.
Ling paused, searching for the right words. "I just wanted to say... thank you for joining me today. For trusting me. This... it means a lot."
Orm tightened her embrace slightly, resting her helmet against Ling's back. "No, thank you, P'Ling. For sharing this with me. It's... it's beautiful."
Golden sunlight spilled over the horizon, painting the sky in hues of amber and rose. The air was crisp and clean, carrying the scent of morning dew and wildflowers. They had the road almost entirely to themselves. Both women fell into a comfortable silence, each lost in their own thoughts yet profoundly aware of the other's presence.
Leaning into a gentle curve, Ling felt Orm cling tightly to her back. They moved as one with the machine, their bodies in perfect sync as if they'd been riding together for years. The speed was comfortable, not rushed – just fast enough to feel the cool morning air caressing their faces through the small openings in their helmets.
Ling's hands rested loosely on the handlebars, her posture relaxed and confident. There was no need to rush, no urgency in their journey. This moment – the open road, the early morning sun, the melodic music, and most importantly, the warmth of Orm pressed against her back – was one to savor. A smile played on Ling's lips as she rode, her heart full of contentment.
As they cruised along the open road, a new song began to play through their helmet intercoms. The familiar melody of "Fallin'" filled the air. Orm recognized the song immediately, being a fan of the Korean drama series it belonged to.
Fallin'...
Fallin'...
I'm falling...
Every night and day...
The emotions conveyed by the lyrics resonated deeply within her, amplifying the surreal quality of this moment with Ling. It felt like a dream, too perfect to be real. But when she squeezed Ling's waist and felt her squeeze back, Orm knew it was beautifully, wonderfully real.
No words were spoken; none were needed. Orm tried to blink away the tears that threatened to fall, not wanting to give any indication to Ling that she was softly crying. Everything was just too perfect. The day was just beginning, full of promise and possibility, and both women were greeting it in the most exquisite way they could imagine.
An hour later, they pulled back into Ling's driveway. Orm could barely contain her excitement as she dismounted, quickly removing her helmet. She bounced on her toes, waiting for Ling to turn off the bike and remove her own helmet.
The moment Ling's helmet came off, Orm engulfed her in a tight, enthusiastic hug. "That. Was. Fucking. Awesome!" Orm screamed, her voice filled with pure joy. "Oh my god, P'Ling! Why didn't you tell me about this sooner?"
Before Ling could answer, Orm was peppering her face with quick, excited kisses. Ling couldn't help but laugh, recognizing the after-ride high that she herself often experienced. Seeing Orm so elated, Ling made a mental note to invite her along more often when their schedules allowed.
"Thank you," Orm said sincerely, her brown eyes warm with affection and gratitude.
Ling responded with a soft kiss of her own. "You're welcome. Next time again?"
Orm's enthusiastic nods were all the answer Ling needed.
As they began walking, Orm mused aloud, "You know, maybe I could get a bike of my own and you could teach me how to ride."
Ling, caught off guard by the suggestion, tripped over her own feet. Thankfully, Orm's quick reflexes allowed her to catch Ling before she could fall.
With a mischievous glint in her eye, Orm added, "Or maybe I could just ride you." She punctuated the statement with a playful wink.
Ling's mouth gaped open, her mind short-circuiting at Orm's bold statement.
"I mean ride 'with' you," Orm clarified, reaching out to gently close Ling's mouth. "Get your mind out of the gutter, Miss Ling Ling Kwong." She playfully bopped Ling's nose and helped her regain her balance.
Ling's face flushed a deep red, but she couldn't bring herself to mind. The warmth spreading through her chest had little to do with embarrassment and everything to do with the way Orm was looking at her.
But before they could continue, a distant sound broke through their bubble—the unmistakable ring of a cellphone. Reality came rushing back reminding them of the world that awaits.
Ling closed her eyes briefly, taking a deep breath before slowly pulling away. 'We should probably get that,' she said softly, a hint of reluctance in her voice.
Orm nodded, equally hesitant to break the spell. As they disentangled themselves from each other, the air between them remained charged with unspoken words and unfulfilled desires.
Whatever could still happen—would have to wait. But as they walked side by side out of the garage, their hands brushing 'accidentally', both women knew that this was far from over. It was, perhaps, just the beginning.
Ling felt her heart flutter. The memory of the ride, the lingering sensation of Orm's arms around her waist, the sound of her laughter – it all combined into a heady mix of emotions that left Ling feeling dizzy with happiness.
Stealing a glance at Orm, Ling saw her own joy reflected in the younger woman's eyes. In that moment, Ling knew with absolute certainty that she could get used to weekends like these. More than that, she wanted to get used to them. Wanted to fill her life with more moments like this, more laughter, more adventures – all with Orm by her side.
As they crossed the threshold into Ling's house, the future stretched before them, as open and full of promise as the road they'd just traveled. Whatever lay ahead, Ling knew one thing for certain – with Orm, every day would be an adventure worth savoring.