Bright and Win are a showbiz love team. Well, they were. It's been years since they have ever even locked eyes on camera. But fans still see them as a couple. It's annoying Bright. It's irritating Win. They feel nothing for each other...right?
"Venetian assassins sought out the artisans who made these mirrors. One by one they killed them, hoping to bury the secrets of glass-making along with their bodies.
It makes this hall immensely beautiful but also cruel."
Win turns around, realizing he has been monologuing. He runs his fingers through his brown windswept hair and gives Bright an embarrassed grin.
"I'm boring you, aren't I?," he asks.
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But Bright has forgotten what the word boring even meant. He was enthralled - drinking in all the knowledge Win was willing to share. Bright had always acknowledged that Win was a feast for the eyes, but apparently Win talking a mile a minute about historical architecture while bathed in the morning light of Versailles was soul-stirring, a banquet for the spirit.
"Earth to Bright," Win mocks. "I wasn't that boring."
Bright snaps back to attention and steps closer to Win. He fixes the fabric of scarf near Win's nape and whispers: "Tell me more about King Louis the XIV."
Win looks at Bright, surprised. "You were really listening," he said as if he didn't expect this at all and well, he really didn't. Win knew his interests were not common and even the most well-meaning friend gets sleepy when he got too engrossed in explaining the design principles of the Guangzhou Opera House or when he started talking about Frank Gehry and other architects he admired. But Bright was looking at him as if his prattling about mirrors and Baroque architecture were the most fascinating things he has ever heard.
"Tell me more about Versailles," Bright whispers again. "I want to listen." He lightly touches Win's earlobe as he says this. Win can feel that earlobe reddening, and soon he is sure his whole face was flushed.
"What do I get for giving this exclusive tour, Vachirawit?," he manages to say. He wants to sound teasing but he sounds breathless instead.
"Anything you want. Name it," Bright replies, moving his hand from Win's ear to Win's jawline.
"Anything?" , Win tries to tease again but Bright being this close made it impossible for him to sound anything else but pleading.
Bright nods, fingers still dancing along Win's jaw.
Win places his own hands on Bright's jaw and he gives him a soft kiss. It was quick and gentle and it was enough to make Win's insides melt into a hot sticky mess.
They are unmoving, their bodies pressed together and reflected on each the hundreds of mirrors surrounding them. They were like living art. Two marble statues come to life because they learned how to love.
Love.
'That's what this is, wasn't it?,' Bright thinks as he stays close to Win, basking in his heat. He is scared of how much emotion is coursing through his veins. This is probably too much too soon.
Win kisses Bright gently again. Bright shakes his head. How could it be too much when he can never have enough? When he could not stop thinking of Win even as he slept beside him on the train. When he could not tear his eyes away from him as he ran through the gardens like a wide-eyed kid. When even Win's soft snores at night fascinated him. A lifetime was not enough to love Win Metawin Opas-iamkajorn. Bright had learned his lesson, he didn't want to waste more time by denying something that was crystal clear.
"Tell me more about Versailles," Bright says again. Stepping back and taking Win's hand. They start walking slowly down the hall.
"I'm really not boring you?," Win asks.
"How can the man I love ever be boring?," Bright says, giving Win's hand a squeeze.
Win freezes. Goddamn Bright and his power to turn him into stone. "The man you love?," Win asks.
Bright fidgets, he can feel his anxiety build. But he decides to hold firm.
He leans in and brushes his lips against Win's lips. It was a seed of a kiss - small but within it lived a promise that took root inside both men.
"I love you, Win."
Win falls into Bright and crushes their lips together. There was nothing quick or soft about this kiss. This kiss was hungry. Win wanted to taste the three words on Bright's tongue, savor them on his lips, drink it all in.
This was the Palace of Versailles, one of the most popular tourist destinations in Paris. There were at least five thousand other tourists in the palace. And they were the only reason why Win finally pulls away instead of pushing Bright into a wall and up between his thighs.
"That's the sexiest sentence to ever come out of your mouth," Win tells Bright, kissing him again.
Bright breaks away. "Would have been sexier if you said it back," he says with a smirk, using his trademark cockiness to hide his distress.
Win smiles at him, runs his thumb across Bright's eyebrows to erase the worried crease, then caresses the smirk away.
