HE, HIM, AND US (Complete ✅)

He wants it all

"It hurts" New wheezes. He tries to pry the offending hand off his chest. He has always paralleled Tay in physical strength, if not stronger. And would usually tease him by holding him down or dumping his weight on his best friend until the man became immobile. This Tay is different. He is not budging. The hand is solid.

He, grudgingly, admires the veins bulging out from  the skin on his attacker's biceps and forearms. New was barely holding himself together with his Tay. He doesn't think he can survive this one.

"Why should I fucking care!?" The scowling man gives one hard push to his chest and releases him. He pushes a hand through his damp hair. "God you're not even drunk. What do you want, Thitipoom? I warned you never to come here again."

New separates his back from the wall. He takes his time to crack his neck and stretch his arms, appreciating the joy of breathing properly again.

Tay has wiped the unforgiving scowl off his face to give way to confusion and annoyance. It isn't any better but New pays him no mind. Despite Tay's strength and attack, he does not scare New. His arms are crossed over his chest—chest that New should stop glancing at every second.

His narrowed eyes follow New's movement as though he has encountered an alien. Well, he wouldn't be too far off. He has seen everything there is to see in the bland impersonal living room. But he gives it another tour.

When he feels Tay's patience wearing thin, he resumes his position before the man. Tay takes a step back. Right, this one is not his Tay who has no sense of personal space.

"So," New sticks out his thumb to the salient frame behind him. "Do you just stare at yourself the whole time?"

Tay exhales as one would when they have to put up with something they don't want to put up with. He pads to where he dropped the towel. Picks it up. "Do not touch it, I'm warning you. If you're still here when I come out I'll call the cops on you."

"Wait, Teh."

"Tay." He pauses his entry into the closet to snarl. "Only Gun can call me that."

"What?" Out of all the absurdities of this universe, this is the one to drive a spear through his heart. "You've got to be fucking kidding me."

"Don't start this again." He points a warning finger to New's face. "Leave before I come out." Tay slams the door.

This again. They've had a conversation about the name before. New's imaginations, as they tend to do, run wild. Maybe he called Tay Teh and the man started a fight over that. It doesn't explain why they were in front of Tay's condo though.

New wanders into Tay's bedroom as he continues his thinking. Analogy 2: New came to wish Tay an early merry Christmas. As he was leaving, he said Bye Teh. Tay flips over the name and a fight ensues. He shakes his head. No, that doesn't sound right. Good thing he is not a script writer. Although he's certain his imaginations would deliver more interesting stories than the company produces.

Tay's bedroom is warmer than the living room. It smells like him, like his Tay. New rolls his eyes at yet another portrait of the evil-twin hanging above the bed. There's a television screwed to the wall with a ball-sized crack in the middle. His blinds are open, giving New the boring view of his neighborhood.

Evil Tay's bed looks higher than Tay's. Bigger. New sits on it as he continues his inspection and introspection. Perhaps the fight wasn't about the name. Was Gun involved? Did it have anything to do with his portraits? New rests his back on the bed. He has had a long day. Tay's evil twin's assault on his back only further tired him out. The bed is comfortable. Just like Tay's. He sighs. Stares at the plain ceiling until he feels his eyelids begin to flutter.