HYSM

Thirteen

By the time Mew and Gulf finally arrived at the stadium - attempting, unsuccessfully, to sneak in at the back and join the class unnoticed, then wai-ing mumbled apologies as they were caught, barely suppressing the mischievous titters that threatened - they were almost thirty minutes late.

"Where the hell have you been, bro?" - Tul had threaded expertly through the crowd to join Mew's side, muttering out of the corner of his mouth, "You miss dinner last night, don't show up until half way through the project pitch, and have blanked all my messages?"

But Mew could only beam back at his friend. That same, lopsided, sunshine of a smile that he had been wearing intermittently since the moment Gulf walked back into the room that morning. He struggled honourably to uphold a façade of purposeful focus, but then the silly grin would creep back in, the very minute his guard of concentration faltered. So in the end he submitted, allowed the goofy expression to triumph. His happiness - his heart - on his sleeve.

Tul raised an eyebrow, a fish hook of perplexed intrigue.

It was to be a day of raised eyebrows for the two, Mew and Gulf, as the groups set about their project work in shady corners of the open air, yet oven-like, stadium, dark terracotta red athletics track absorbing every Celsius of heat to act as an additional sweltering radiator for the baking, busying students around, as they studied and theorised and notated.

A raised eyebrow from the class mentor, as she observed the pair's unlikely, successfully productive teamwork: "Good to see you two finally able to work together after all these years, without throwing punches or starting a slanging match within the first five minutes".

A raised eyebrow from Gulf's friend Bow, when she caught the younger man side-eyeing Mew's grin, only to form a quiet, secret little smile himself, almond orbs shifting into an unfamiliar shape...Gulf Kanawut with doe eyes?

Raised eyebrows exchanged between War and Yin as Gulf absent mindedly reached to brush blades of grass from Mew's hair whilst the group lunched together on the green pastures of the javelin field. Before realising his action several seconds later and freezing, ears cringing scarlet, to then snatch his hand away, retreating to a safe distance once again.

And as bright afternoon faded to the pastel hues of early evening - students laying down pens and relocating to the beach front for organised group games sessions - eyebrows were raised once more, this time accompanying mouths agape, as Mew and Gulf faced up against one another in challenge.

Because those most fervent of foes simply didn't resemble an enemy to one another anymore. Instead, it was more as if...but, no.

They twinkled and giggled and blushed bashfully, eyes channeled provocatively, as if there were no one else within miles. Yet all those invisible but firmly present viewers watched on in palpable confusion as Mew pulled his age old trick - tripping Gulf over an outstretched foot - only to this time, support his back as he fell, so that both men ended up on the sand together, laughing and rolling and twisting over and over as they embraced and grappled, relishing the closeness and the feel of what lay beneath their hands.

Was Hua Hin an alternate universe? Friends wondered...

"Is it just me or does it look like they're not fighting, but actually fucking flirting?", Yin articulated everyone's thoughts, in his own straightforward way, multiple heads nodding in unison, mute and wide-eyed in response.

And when it was put to Gulf, as they returned, flushed and breathless, to the group's fold...

"What's the big deal? You know our families have always been close"

"Yes, sure you were close - you grew up together - but you hated each other!", War was probing too.

"Well...we just don't hate each other any more krub", Gulf replied bluntly with a simple shrug. Translation: 'End of discussion, thank you very much'.

Several hours on, a late, whole class dinner in a bayside fresh seafood restaurant was drawing to a sated close - Mew having anxiously monitored every morsel Gulf ate, acutely aware of his lifelong allergy to prawns. As the group ambled out patting their stomachs - making for the direction of the hotel or neighbouring piano bar - without any prior agreement or arrangement Mew and Gulf seemed to linger back, arms swinging awkwardly as each gave the impression of gazing off in different directions at the view.

Soon the crowd had left them behind, alone - no, together - under the twinkling, crystalline stars of a clear night sky. Drifting, wordlessly, to a secluded enclave where they flopped down next to one another to sit, quiet and pensive...

Mew trailing his fingers through the eventide coolness of fine, silky white sand, tracing out line drawings of spirals, nature's infinity symbol - the art of his own heart too. Gulf gazing out at the lapping waves of the ocean, soothed by the steadiness of her contstance - those tides that came night and day and always would, so long as the moon still orbited across the sky. And beginning to feel himself, that the man at his side was also a constant - because when he thought about it, Mew had always been there, and perhaps not only in the way that he had been blinded to before.

It was as if the elder man was clarifying slowly into focus now, having been so blurry for so many years. The balanced rise and fall of his breathing as he slept. The tides of Mew. That ocean with so many depths: chasms of majestic, underwater cliff faces, effervescent rock pools that teemed with life, peaceful lagoons, tranquil and mirror-surfaced, and the powerful, dominant, crashing waves of a stormy harbour scene.

Gulf angled to look at his Phi: Peaceful lagoon, in that moment. Admired his side profile - the strong brow, exquisitely expressive eyes, straight nose and wide, busy mouth - a true mark of his extraversion.

Mew was a man, Gulf had to acknowledge to himself, but...did it really matter to him any more?

He desired him physically - that was irrefutable - and he knew, with a tingle to his cock and surging heat across his cheeks and chest, that he wanted to give himself to him, wanted to be fucked. Wanted Mew to take what no one had taken.

But just then he also wanted...

He reached out a tentative hand to cup Mew's chin and pull it round until they faced each other. The serene smile fell from the elder man's lips as their eyes met - serious, then, a moment of mutual deepening between them - and they were moving dreamily towards one another, eyes closing as noses rubbed gently together. Then lips parted, and they kissed. Softly, tenderly, mouths moving against one another in purest revelation, as a warm breeze tickled the palm fronds above, the song of chorusing, romantic cicadas a musical backdrop to the intimacy of the scene below.

When they pulled apart, faces still connected at the foreheads, Mew placed a hand on Gulf's cheek to stroke a thumb along the curve of his elegant cheekbone, the elder man - a shining moisture to his dark eyes - speaking out bravely into the night:

"Gulf...what's happening between us?"

And after moments of consideration, an honest but softly spoken reply - "I don't know Phi, do you?"

A head shake, and guarded: "I don't know either, things are...different"

Then at last, a first little baring of Gulf's evolving heart:

"I like it"

And Mew's strong arm reached to stretch around Gulf's shoulders, pulling him in close, as they turned to stare out to sea. Eyes looking in the same direction - seated in a novel, blissfully beautiful paradise, but feeling at home in the most ancient of ways, in the arms of one another.