One always remembers their firsts.
The first crush, the first kiss and the first-time sex.
What about the first heartbreak?
When all the firsts are centred around one person is it easy to erase them from the memories?
That's why it hurts so much to...
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~ Present ~
On day two of shooting Apo was better prepared. He gave a mental slap to himself. He was supposed to be a strong man. His mental faculties should be at their highest. He shouldn't act like a bumbling fool in front of Mile. He'd grown up. And for fuck's sake he was twenty-eight, not eighteen anymore.
The shoot was at the National Museum. He didn't think a regular person would get permission to do a photo shoot in this prestigious venue. Only for THE Mile Phakphum. It's evidently clear that the Cartier was the party benefitting from the deal more than Mile and his fiancee. Apo sighed adjusting his personal camera while his crew set the lights and other professional equipment.
Apo's breath caught in his throat when Mile strode into the set wearing a traditional Thai attire adorned with various shades of gold. Build really outdid himself, again, dressing Mile up in that attire. His midnight hair was styled perfectly, the custom-made gold accessories glinting off his fair skin. Standing amidst Archaeological drawings and Ethnological artefacts Mile depicted a perfect specimen of a King in a period drama.
Apo wasn't thinking much when he lifted his personal camera and aimed it at the fine man dressed in traditional clothing. He snapped a shot and stared at his work. Some things still hadn't changed. His camera loved Mile Phakphum, as it did years ago.
~ Past ~
Apo examined the few shots he'd managed to take during the concert. They were okay-ish but not up to his standard. Not good enough to print. He just flipped through the collection, deleting the blurred ones and deciding on the keepers.
"Can I borrow a shirt?"
Apo whirled around and found Mile standing at the door to his bathroom, clad only in a sweat pant, rubbing his wet hair with one of Apo's towels. His torso was still damp, and his white skin glistened under the fluorescent light of the room. He gulped, eyes trailing down the wide chest, toned stomach, lingering over the dark trail of hair that disappeared at the elastic waistband of the low riding pant.
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