They dreamt the same dream that night, as they lay in their separate beds. No epic drama or luscious romance, not swashbuckling adventure or spine chilling nightmare, but just the feeling of a breeze against the nape of the neck. A nudging wind of change - as it gathered strength little by little, minute by minute. Urging Mew and Gulf gently forwards, until its gusts were powerful enough to hold each man's bodyweight if he leant back against it. Trust, in the forward motion. Trust.
And when Mew's eyes blinked open - the brightness of mid morning sunlight edging and radiating through every tiny chink between the armour of heavy blackout curtains, casting geometric glints of light in abstract positions across the wall - the first thing he saw was Gulf's face.
Still asleep, the younger man's body had shifted in the night to turn outwards towards Mew. Back to the wall, facing the outside world front on. That guarded, fiercely defensive Gulf from the first night of their arrival in Hua Hin, was no longer the dominant force in the younger man's being, Mew theorised.
But it was just that - a theory. And Mew knew that the two had now reached a point in their rapidly-evolving dynamic, at which they needed concrete, sober, communication. With words - not touch - this time. Theories must be either debunked or written into reality - his heart could go no further without knowing. And whatever the impact, reaction or consequence, he had to speak out his own valid truth now too.
So Mew pulled a hooded pink sweatshirt over his vest, boiled the portable, whistling kettle on the side desk to mix an instant coffee, and padded outside to curl into one of two white plastic chairs on the balcony.
As he blew and sipped at the scalding, bittersweet cup of noir, he wondered...would Gulf remember the words he said last night? Had he even really meant them? Alas, there were no answers to be told. He just had to wait. Wait a little longer, a little longer after six or twenty one years...
//
It was almost an hour later when the balcony door behind Mew slid open and Gulf emerged out into the daylight.
His hand was shielding bleary eyes, hair fluffed and messy and a pouting scowl of interrupted sleep darkening his features from the offset.
"The bloody cleaner has come in to change the bed sheets", he explained gruffly, eyes not meeting Mew's as he plumped down onto the second chair, stretching long, bare, tanned legs out in front of him, locking at the ankle, as he yawned and stretched arms up above.
"So, how's the hangover Nong?", Mew started - wanting to keep the tone light.
"Hoy...a bit of a dry throat from all the singing, but actually my head's not too bad for once", the younger replied - voice, indeed, somewhat hoarse to the elder's ear.
And then Mew was taking a deep breath, physically tensing and bracing himself for the impact of inevitable emotional upheaval and probable open heart wound of what was to come:
"Gulf, I wanted to talk to you about-"
-But his speech was abruptly interrupted by an insistent, sharp rapping on the balcony door, then the intrusion of the unamused cleaner, who stepped out - with a vocal sigh - to swirl a mop half heartedly around the ceramic floor beneath the men's feet, chewing gum with an open mouth as he did so.
The sound of the sliding door again, privacy restored, Mew attempting once more to say:
"So what I wanted you to know is-"
-And Gulf's phone rang.
"Shia!", muttered the elder man in frustration, under his breath. While the younger...
YOU ARE READING
HYSM
FanfictionMew and Gulf have grown up as neighbours and hateful sworn enemies since childhood. Now in their final year of university, events transpire to test that love. Hoy! I mean hate... Love and hate? It's a fine line. A MewGulf coming of age story.