Chapter Text
It was all Phum’s doings.
And the best part? He knew that Peach knew it. Phum could see it in his usually calm eyes — the same eyes that right now reminded him of a deep dark soil after heavy rain. Cold, slippery, uninviting. Like a challenge. Phum loved a good challenge. And he also loved—
It’s a simple kind of party. Nothing too grand or too loud, almost no alcohol. So basically it’s not even a party but more of a chill hang out with friends. Two of those friends just happened to be… well, something.
Phum, once again, is grateful that there’s just too many people in their friendship circle. Or not many, but enough of them, so no one notice when he takes Peach by his wrist and pulls him into the garden at the back of the house. Peach isn’t the type to have fights in front of people, so he doesn’t protest.
In fact, he doesn’t start to protest even when they are finally alone. But he also does not talk. He lazily drinks his cocktail, his gaze heavy on Phum’s shoulders — not his eyes, never his eyes after they said their final words. Phum feels stupid, small, and at the same time, despite everything, happy.
Cause that’s what Peach does, he makes him happy.
"So, how’s it going?" Phum asks, because silence is his least favorite kind of poison.
"Steady. Not so bad. Got a contract with a big company, I’ll start working on their new collection next month."
At lest he answered. Awkward. Phum doesn’t know where else to look, so he looks at Peach. Something on his face or in his pose probably screams please do not leave me, please keep talking, cause Peach sighs and puts his cocktail on the table. In the next few seconds, he’s in Phum’s personal space, finally gazing into his eyes.
"This is your party, Phum. I know your style, and I know for a fact no one else would’ve chosen my favorite songs to play. Why? We ended everything on good terms."
You did.
Phum doesn’t say that. Instead, he takes Peach’s hand in his and kisses his fingers. Peach’s breath is warm on his left cheek. He doesn’t pull away. Doesn’t try to push Phum. Always so, so gentle and kind. Just not with his decisions.
"I’ve missed you."
"I’ve missed you too." Peach smiles, but there’s sadness in it.
Because he knows his missed you doesn’t hold the same weigh of longing and desire. And it never will.
It’s not anyone’s fault. It’s everyone’s fault. Phum wanted someone he couldn’t have. Peach was extremely lonely and lost back then, trying to figure his sexuality out. They were friends. Then— they weren’t anymore. Cause Phum is nothing if not greedy. Cause Peach is nothing if not stubborn.
I can help you with that. Kisses and sex without any strings attached won’t destroy us, right?
Idiot.
"It’s never gonna be as it was before, huh?" he sounds broken. He is so pathetic that it’s starting to look a little bit funny.
Here’s my heart. I ripped it out from my ribcage just to gift it to you. You don’t want it? Bummer. Are you sure you don’t want it? Yeah, I heard you saying it the first time. But please keep saying it on repeat, cause if I don’t hear it even for a second, I’ll start to think you do want it. And it kills me. You gave me no hope, so I made it up and kept it like the most important treasure in my life.
It will, Phum. I don’t want to make it weird between us.
And Peach didn’t. Phum did. Drunk kiss to break two hearts. He didn’t asked for consent, too desperate to not let go, and in the process pushed Peach so far away that they can’t reach each other anymore.
You are too drunk. You are too young. You— it’s just not right.
Phum remembers it a bit too clearly. Rewinds these words in Peach’s voice as mantra every morning and every night. As a poison. As a reminder. He had Peach in his arms, even if for a fleeting seconds. He did.
"Phum." Peach’s voice is much warmer now, a tight too delicate. "You can have me in your life. We can still be friends, just not while you want something more. I can’t keep hurting you like this."
That’s not what Phum wants to hear, but Peach isn’t someone who will say something just to please him. Huh. They do have a lot in common.
"What big company?" he asks instead of crying like a baby. He wants to, but he doesn’t. He’s a grown ass man (he isn’t too young, okay?!).
Peach blinks. Then leaves Phum’s personal space, the recognition on his face is as clear as the sunlight. He gently takes his hand away too.
"You know already, don’t you?"
"Kinda tough to not know when your own brother’s company will be working with the best photographer in the country, don’t you think?"
Why does he sounds like an asshole? He didn’t mean to. But he’s too hurt to correct the tone.
"Do you think I shouldn’t work for him?"
Peach is so understanding, and fuck him for that. As if Phum needs any more reasons to fall in love.
"I think you should do what’s best for you. ARSENY is amazing and this project will look great on your portfolio. Not that you need to add anything to it, but still."
Peach nods. There’s warmth and love in his eyes, just not the kind that Phum wants to see and feel. Because it’s the same love Peach feels for—
"What’s taking you two so long?"
They both flinch and turn to the third voice. Oh, so someone did notice that they were gone.
There, on a porch, is Peach’s younger brother — Peem. Beer in his hands, drunkish blush on his cheeks, clear interest and something anxious in the lines of his brows. God. He looks almost identical to Peach, especially in a low lighting of fairy lights. Sometimes Phum still gets chills from it. Despite years between them, these two might as well be twins.
How ironic. That it scares Phum. Considering his own older brother — not Fang, though, thanks Heaven. The other one.
"Sorry, miss me that much already?" Peach is melting now, all in his older brother feelings. He adores Peem to the point of it being embarrassing at times. Peem doesn’t seem to mind, but Phum does. Cause it hurts.
"Not really. It’s just strange that you actively avoid the party you yourself is throwing." Peem looks at Phum, unreadable expression mode: on. He knows. Fuck.
Phum feels goosebumps all over his body. He’s not scared, oh no. Phum feels something much worse and he hates himself for it. But he can’t look away from Peem, not now.
"Well, maybe it’s a sign to call it a day, then?" Peach can’t read the instant tension in the air, and Phum is so grateful for that. "Can you please tell your friends to go home?"
"Sure." Peem hugs Peach tightly the moment his brother is close, small smile on his red lips. "You’re gonna sleep soon?"
"No, I’ve got work to do. I’ll be upstairs if you need me. Do not knock, just come in, cause I’ll probably have my headphones on."
Peach then turns to Phum. It’s so dumb to hope for anything more, but it’s still taste like bitter disappointment when Peach says only: "See you around. Good night."
He walks away. Phum has to sit on the grass to physically stop himself from rushing after him.
Peem quietly seeps his beer and makes every single step to Phum’s direction count. He’s slow with it, like a true predator. Step. Two seconds to feel it. Another step. Phum hears his own heartbeat in his ears and can touch it in his throat.
"Shouldn’t you tell our friends to go home?" Phum tries. He knows it’s useless. Because Peem is freaking smart.
"Already did. You two lovebirds talked for a really long time, just so you know."
And here it is. The smartness. The cruelty. Peem knows — he probably knew before Peach or even Phum. He’s just that good at reading people.
"Then what now? Thinking about throwing me away from your house?"
Peem sits next to him. He smells of coffee and milk and fresh oil paints, no alcohol. Phum looks at his beer bottle, and, yes, Peem is insane enough of pouring coffee into that. It’s almost midnight. He seems to have no plans of sleeping anytime soon. He seems to blush a lot. Phum gulps.
"Thinking about making your sad ass less sad, you asshole."
Phum laughs. It’s by no means joyful.
Peem just hugs him, and Phum breaks. Once again. In the same arms as before, and before and before. He hates himself for wanting more, and not from Peem. He deserves this salt taste that overflows his reality, making it wet and disgusting and cold.
"Can I stay the night?"
"Sure. Do you need something?"
It’s easy like that. Peem asks, and Phum shows him. He tears himself away for a second and then finds Peem’s lips with his own. It feels familiar cause it is. Cause Peem kisses him not for the first time and definitely not for the last. He knows how to drive Phum crazy with his tongue, how to hold him, how sensitive his nape is and how he enjoys his hair being pulled — not roughly, just enough to feel it.
Peem knows.
"Take me to my bedroom?" Peem asks, and it’s almost a plea. So Phum does.
He doesn’t turn off the lights. He needs them on. And when he fucks Peem, holding his waist in his hands and eating his sweet moans out of his mouth, he doesn’t close his eyes.
"Don’t be quiet" he says, cause he needs to hear Peem’s voice for all the wrong reasons.
Peem smiles and there’s something a little bit broken in a curves of his lips. But he nods and moans into Phum’s skin. Always so eager to please him, but only in these moments.
Peem knows too much, and Phum hates them both for that. They should’t do it. Not now, not ever. Kisses and sex do destroy friendships, but they are too desperate to care about it.
How ironic Phum’s life is. But he can’t really be mad at it.
After all,
It was all Phum’s doings.