The transition from Thailand to the U.S. was a big change. It took me a while to get used to, but I'm glad I got away from my father. I'm glad my sister followed me here. I'm glad I met you.

January 3rd

I got a call this morning - from my mom? I haven't spoken to her since I left - since she let my dad move me across the world.

"Jai, I'm sorry to call you on such short notice, but - "

I heard my sister snatch the phone right out of her hand."Jaiii! I'm starting at my uni on Monday, and, well... it's in your city annnd - "

"Stop." I tried to cut off her rambling as quickly as possible. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Well, could you please watch after your sister? You have an extra bedroom in your house, right?"

"CAN I PLEAAASE STAY WITH YOU, PLEASE, JAII!" Prin screams into the microphone.

I pause for a moment, questioning the freedom I've had - no family, no one around who knows me. But I really don't want to deal with this right now. I just woke up.

"Okay, fine."

"Wait - really?" My sister sounds completely caught off guard.

"Yes, really. Do you want me to change my mind?"

"No, no, no! Thank you so much! I'll see you tomorrow!" I could hear my mom hesitate, like she wanted to say something more. But before she had the chance, I hung up. I don't want to deal with her drama or her constant reminders to contact my dad. I haven't talked to him since I moved, and I don't plan on it anytime soon.

The first week with Prin in the house was... quiet. We didn't hang out, It wasn't awkward, just sort of silent. She had her classes, I had my own routine, and we drifted around each other like two planets in the same orbit, close but in our own axis. We didn't talk much. She never pushed, and I didn't offer. But every evening if she be home, she'd knock on my door and ask if I was hungry. "I made too much," she'd say, even though we both knew she made it for me. I'd nod or grunt, and she'd smile like that was enough. Sometimes we ate at the table together, other times I'd eat in my room, but the food always tasted half cooked but I ate it every time. She never brought up our parents, never asked questions I didn't want to answer. Just left little offerings - food, quiet company, the occasional silly meme over text from the other room. I didn't say thank you, not really, but I think she knew I was grateful anyway. By the end of the week, the silence started to feel less heavy. Familiar, even. Tomorrow, I start my new part-time job at a bar not too far from here. It's nothing fancy, but it pays, and I need something to keep me moving. Something to do with my hands, something to keep my mind busy. Prin says she wants to visit, says she wants to see me "in my natural habitat." I told her she's not allowed to. She laughed. I think maybe we'll be okay.

My first day at the bar was almost painfully normal. The place wasn't anything special - dim lights, cracked leather booths, the smell of old beer soaked into the wood. A few regulars were already hunched over their drinks by the time I clocked in. I got shown around, handed a rag and told to wipe tables when I wasn't pouring drinks. Easy enough. The work wasn't hard. The rhythm of it came fast: clean, pour, smile, nod, repeat. No one asked me any questions about me, Perfect. It was during my second hour when I noticed him. Back booth, tucked into the corner like he belonged to the shadows. A guy, definitely a freshman in collage, a very short boy with almost brown black hair, black hoodie pulled halfway over his face, one leg stretched out across the bench like he owned the place. Head tilted back, completely out cold. I thought he might be dead for a second, but then I saw the slight rise and fall of his chest. I leaned toward my coworker - Ray, the manager of the place. Kind of wiry, tired eyes, had been working here forever by the sound of it.

"Hey,"

I said, nodding toward the booth.

"That guy okay?"

Ray barely looked up.

"Oh, him? That's North."

"North?"

"Yeah. Regular. Comes in, drinks until he can't anymore, passes out. Been doing that long before you got here."

I kept glancing back at him. North. Familiar sounding name. kind vibe. Something about the way he looked so wrecked, like he has no care in the world. There was a sadness in how drunk he was, he just looked like he was having a genuinely peaceful time, having fun all by himself something . But I don't know why, but I couldn't stop looking at him. Maybe it was curiosity. Maybe it was recognition. Maybe I've just never seen someone sleep so peaceful, so beautifully sleeping.

It was close to closing when I finally walked over to the back booth.North was still slumped there, hoodie slipped further down over his eyes, lips parted slightly, breathing steady like he hadn't moved an inch in hours. Ray had already thrown on his coat and tossed me the keys to lock up.

"Just leave him. He'll wake up and go eventually,"

he said, like this was just part of the routine. But I couldn't do that.

"Hey."

I kept my voice low as I knelt beside the booth.

"Come on, man. You gotta wake up."

North groaned, barely. He squinted one eye open, unfocused and slow, like he had no idea where he was. His breath smelled like whiskey and something sweeter, maybe plum soda. Weird combination.

"Can you stand?".

He didn't answer. Just tried to shift, failed, and let his head fall back against the seat.

I sighed. "Okay. Cool."

It took a while, but I managed to get him up - his arm over my shoulder, his weight sagging against me like a tired child. He was smaller than I thought, lighter too. Mumbled something into my chest as we made it out into the cold night air, but I couldn't make it out. I tried calling an uber. No cars nearby. I tried asking if there was anyone I could call. He just blinked at me like I was speaking another language. So that left me with one option.

We made it back to my apartment around 2 a.m. Prin was already asleep. I dragged him into my room, carefully eased him down onto the bed. He immediately curled up on his side, face buried in my pillow like it was his. I stood there for a second, just watching him. His hair had fallen across his forehead. His lashes were long. His breathing had evened out again.He looked... soft. Quiet in a way that made my chest feel strange. Warm, but also kind of heavy. I didn't even know this guy. But something about him pulled at me. I sat on the edge of the bed, just for a second. Brushed his hair out of his face without thinking.

I woke up to the sound of soft breathing and the weight of someone else in my bed.

For a second, I forgot. The night before blurred like fog. But then I remembered - North, the bar, the dead weight of him leaning on me, the cold air, the way he curled into my pillow like he belonged there.

I left him to sleep and padded quietly into the kitchen. The apartment was still, sunlight leaking in through the blinds in golden strips. Prin was out, probably at class already. I moved on instinct - washed some rice, threw it into the pot with broth, ginger, garlic. I added a dash of white pepper, a splash of soy. Congee. The way my mom used to make it when I was sick or when the mornings were too quiet to bear.

By the time the scent filled the apartment, I heard movement - shuffling, the rustle of fabric, a thump like someone had kicked the wall. I glanced up as North stumbled out of my room, hoodie halfway off his shoulder, hair a complete mess, expression murderous.

"Where the hell am I?"

he barked, eyes scanning the place like he was expecting to be robbed.

"Good morning to you too,"

I muttered, turning the stove off. He staggered closer, still looking around. "This - this isn't the bar. Did you - did you bring me here?"

"You were passed out. No cabs. No numbers. Ray dipped. I wasn't about to leave you drooling on a booth all night."

He opened his mouth, probably to snap back, but then stopped. His jaw clenched. I could see it - his pride swallowing itself.

"I don't need you to babysit me."

"Didn't plan on it,"

I said, shrugging. I grabbed a bowl and filled it.

"Want some?"

He eyed the congee suspiciously, still halfway between fury and a hangover.

"Is that... jok?"

blinked. "Yeah."

His eyebrows pulled together.

"You made jok?"

"Yeah. Why?"

North stared at me like I just revealed I had a secret second head.

"You don't look Thai."

I raised an eyebrow. "And you do?"

He hesitated. "I mean? yeah. My mom's Korean, but my dad was Thai. It's... obvious."

I smiled a little, handed him the bowl.

"Well, surprise. I'm full Thai. Both sides."

North took the bowl, almost reluctantly, like it might still bite him. He didn't sit, just stood there, steaming congee in his hands, staring at me with something like disbelief. Or maybe curiosity.

"What part?" he asked finally, quieter this time.

"Chiang Rai. You?"

"Chiang Mai,"

he said, then spooned a bit of the congee into his mouth. His shoulders dropped just a little.

"Damn. This is actually good."

"Thanks,"

I said, trying not to let my smile show too much.

"Maybe next time, don't pass out in public to get a free breakfast."

He gave me a look, but it didn't carry the same bite. Something softened between us, just a crack in the shell he'd wrapped himself in. We ended up sitting on the floor. The congee bowls balanced between us, backs leaning against the couch, neither of us in a rush to move. The silence wasn't awkward - it was kind of easy. Comfortable. Like the warmth of the food had settled into the room and made space for something quieter.

North was the first to speak.

"So, what's your deal? You live alone? No roommates?"

I shook my head. "Just me. My sister's crashing in the second room for a while, but she's quiet."

He raised an eyebrow. "You got siblings?"

"Just her. Prin. She just moved to the city for school."

He nodded like that explained something. "She's cool?"

"She is," I said. "Kind of the only family I still talk to."

North glanced at me, something curious flickering in his expression. "What about your parents?"

I shrugged. "I don't really talk to them. Not in years."

He didn't ask right away, just waited. I could tell he wasn't the type to press, but he was listening. So I kept going.

"I work a few jobs. The bar, another part-time at a bookstore, sometimes random gigs online. I don't really hang out with people. Don't really have time." I paused. "Or the energy."

North gave a quiet hum, then said, "That's kind of sad."

I laughed once, soft and dry. "Yeah, well. It is what it is."

He picked at his bowl for a second, then said,

"My parents are still around. I live with them, technically. They've got this big house, and I come and go and they don't really say much. They don't check in. Don't ask questions. I used to think that was freedom, you know? But sometimes it just feels like I could disappear and they wouldn't notice for a week."

"That's worse," I said. "Being surrounded and still feeling alone."

He didn't say anything. Just nodded, like he'd been waiting for someone else to put it into words. We sat there in silence again until North tilted his head toward me.

"How old are you, anyway?"

"Twenty-eight," I said.

His eyes widened. "Damn. You're old."

I rolled my eyes. "And you?"

"Twenty-four," he said, smirking like he'd just won something.

I snorted. "Congrats on your youth."

Then his tone shifted, just a little.

"Why don't you talk to your parents?"

I looked down at my half-empty bowl, fingers tightening slightly around it.

"My dad hated me my whole life," I said. The words came out steadier than I expected. "I wasn't the perfect son. Not smart Not athletic Not sociable. When I came out, that was it. He yelled, he hit me and Just packed my bags, sent me here when I was sixteen. Like I was an embarrassment to be exported."

North's eyes stayed on me, but he didn't interrupt.

"My mom... she never said anything. Just stood there while it happened. Still stands there, really. Calls sometimes. Pretends everything's normal."

"That's... fucked," North said quietly.

"Yeah."

Then, after a pause, he looked at me with something unreadable in his gaze. "So you really like boys?"

I blinked. "What?"

"I mean - like, you're gay. You really like boys?"

His voice was softer now, but still a little unsure, like he was asking and bracing for the answer all at once.

I nodded slowly. "Yeah. I do."

He was quiet for a moment. Then, with a small, teasing grin pulling at his lips, he leaned in just slightly.

"Do you like a boy who's like me?"

My breath caught for half a second. My brain scrambled for a response, my face definitely said more than I wanted it to.

"I - do you - wait. Do you like boys?"

North smiled wide and laughed

"I'm just kidding,"

he said, leaning back again a bit to casually North stood up first, stretching with a wince like his body had just remembered it had slept on a stranger's mattress. His hoodie was rumpled, one sleeve falling off his shoulder. I tried not to stare.

"I should head out,"

he said, running a hand through his mess of black-brown hair.

"Thanks for? not leaving me face-down in a bar booth."

I gave a quiet laugh. "Anytime."

He hovered near the door for a moment, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Hey, uh? can I get your number? In case I pass out again and need a hero or whatever."

"Sure," I said, a little too quickly.

I handed him my phone. He typed something in, handed it back, and I watched as the contact name North >^< appeared on the screen.

He didn't say much else, just gave me a casual, almost awkward wave and slipped out the door. I stood there for a while after he left, staring at the spot he'd been sitting, wondering why it felt like something had shifted. It wasn't until the front door opened again that I snapped out of it.

Prin stepped in, kicking off her shoes and holding a plastic bag full of snacks.

"Hey, I'm back. Did you eat? Oh my god, is that jok I smell?"

I blinked. "Yeah. I made some."

She narrowed her eyes at me like I'd done something suspicious.

"You made jok voluntarily? Who are you and what did you do with my brother?"

I shrugged. "Just felt like it."

She wandered into the kitchen, humming. I sat back down on the floor where North and I had been, trying to look casual. Calm. But my heart hadn't slowed since he walked out.

It was his eyes.

That was what was still stuck in my head. Not the teasing, not the awkward flirting, not even the weird almost-confession. Just his eyes - dark, tired, sharp and soft all at once. There was something about them, something I couldn't name.

Something I loved. Even if I didn't understand it yet

The whole day felt like it was running in slow motion. At the bookstore, I shelved paperbacks on autopilot, forgetting where things went and catching myself staring blankly at the same spine for minutes at a time. At the bar, I messed up three drink orders and wiped the same counter about five times even though it was already clean. I could barely string together a conversation with Ray, and when he asked if I was feeling okay, I mumbled something about not sleeping well. But I had slept fine. More than fine, actually. For the first time in a long time, I'd woken up without that heavy weight in my chest. And it was because of him.

His name had taken up permanent residence in the back of my mind, echoing like a low hum. His smirk, the way he teased, his hoodie slipping off his shoulder, the way his eyes softened when he thought I wasn't looking. I couldn't stop replaying the night before - his voice, the look in his eyes when he asked if I liked boys like him. And that damn smile when he said he was joking, even though he definitely wasn't. I caught myself checking my phone more than once, like I was waiting for something.

Anything.

That's when it finally lit up -

North >^