7 Short Story (May 2022)

Photograph

Their room was full of memories, they were everywhere: photos hanging on the wall above the head of the bed or framed on the shelves, polaroids scattered on the floor, sandwiched between the layers of a pile of clothes in the wardrobe and letters safely tucked in a drawer in his bedside table.

Pictures of landscapes, portraits of their friends and family, snapshots of the two of them together, happy, notes exchanged between classes, are everywhere.

Arthit realized that only in that moment.

That day Kongpob was at a work and Arthit took the opportunity to clean up their apartment.

The room was filled with a warm orange light cast through the lace curtains by the setting sun. Arthit enjoyed that calm atmosphere. It almost felt like being in a cocoon, away from the world and chaos.

He grabbed the stack with her left hand and dropped down onto the bed.

"Allright, Kong." He said out loud. "What's so important about these particular photos that made you think they should be hidden?"

He knew they weren't really hidden, that they weren't a real secret - he would have never invaded his privacy. It's not my nature and never will be-. But saying it out loud make it cooler.

He sat cross-legged in the middle of the mattress and flipped through the pictures.

There was the big campus oak - they argued and kissed beneath its branches countless times-, there was the restaurant they went for their first date and the roses Arthit gifted him for Valentine's Day.

The raven-haired man felt a lurch in his heart, just as expected, but less expected was the warm sensation that chased it.

Most of the ones he went through only captured the two of them. In some of the photos, they looked to be at the beach, and in some of the other photos they were at home in more candid shots. Then he came across photos of him Kongpob had taken without him noticing.

Arthit in the kitchen early in the morning, in his boxer shorts, preparing breakfast; him in bed, late at night, after they having made love, or on Sunday morning, buried beneath the duvet only his dark and dishevelled hair visible, his head sunk deeply into the pillow; him laughing, drinking his beloved Pink Milk, reading, even taking a shower - and blushing, because that bastard... - and he always had that light in his eyes. It didn't matter if he was smiling or glaring at Kongpob, that light was there. It was a light that he'd never realized he possessed, the same light that Kongpob reserved to him.

"What are you doing?" The sudden sound of his lover's voice made him jump.

The older man looked at his watch out of the corner of his eye and, shit, had it really been there for three hours?

He didn't even notice it. He was too busy observing the minute details of those moments frozen in time.

Arthit didn't answer though. He just gestured for his boyfriend to sit next to him on the bed.

When he knelt behind him, hugging his back, Arthit asked showing him the polaroid. "I don't remember you taking this picture. What the heck was I doing?"

"Oh, you were drunk." Replied his junior, smiling at the memory. "It was your birthday... you were lovely."

He knelt behind him, hugging his back. He leaned in and bit his earlobe.

Arthit snorted, rolling his eyes in a nearly juvenile gesture.

"Where did you find them?" Kongpob asked, draping an arm around his shoulders and kissing his temple.

"In the wardrobe... in the nightstand... on your desk..." He replied, shrugging his shoulders and smiling.

"Aww, are we sentimental today?" Kongpob teased lovingly.

Arthit snorted again.

"No, I wanted to burn everything to free us from all this chaos." He said sarcastically. "And you are the sentimental one. Look what kind of photos you took!"

Kongpob snatched the photos from his hands and casually tossed them aside. He gently pushed Arthit back, pressing him between the bed and his body.

"I am. A lot. For you."

"Cheesy." He mumbled, looking away.

A playful spark ignites in Kongpob's eyes. "You want to shut me up?"

"Like that's possible." He rolled his eyes.

Kongpob didn't let him finish his sentence. He kissed him, deeply and thoroughly, leaving him breathless... even after all those years.

"Right. This always works out."

It's a beautiful day, the raven-haired boy thinks, returning the kiss with equal ardor.

And they spent hours like this, bathed in the the warm rays of the sun, kissing among the memories.

NOTE

This is just a little unpretentious slice of life chapter, nothing special, I just wanted to try this kind of story 😅

Stay safe 💜