Yearning such a small word, yet it has so many emotions. It was something Phana had felt many times before, but never as strongly as he did now. For the longest time, he had been content with the carefree moments, the mischievous smiles, and the occasional flirtation. But now, as he sat beside Ming on the couch, a quiet distance between them, the weight of the unspoken emotions seemed to hang in the air.
They had been together for a while now, but there were moments when Phana still felt like he was just a boy in love, hesitant and unsure, trying to navigate the complexity of his feelings. He wasn't sure if Ming had ever sensed this yearning, but it was becoming harder and harder to ignore. It wasn't just physical—it wasn't just about the fleeting moments of warmth, or the occasional kiss under the stars—it was deeper than that.
Phana looked at Ming, who was absorbed in his book, his face softened with concentration. For a moment, Phana just watched him, admiring how effortlessly he carried himself. The way his lips curled up at the corners whenever he smiled, the way his eyes sparkled when he found something particularly amusing in a book. Phana could see the depth of Ming's soul, the quiet strength he had that Phana admired more than anything.
There was a part of him, buried deep within, that longed to close the distance, to reach out and make Ming understand how much he meant to him. But it wasn't so simple. There was something about the way Ming withdrew at times, how his emotions were kept just under the surface, that made Phana hesitate.
The yearning began to build up again, like an ocean wave rising slowly, steadily, until it threatened to consume him. He wanted to reach out to Ming, to tell him how he felt, to make him understand just how deeply Phana had fallen in love with him. But he was scared—scared of rejection, scared of exposing a vulnerability he wasn't sure he was ready to share.
Ming finally looked up from his book, his dark eyes meeting Phana's. There was something about the way Ming looked at him in that moment that made Phana's heart skip a beat. It wasn't just a look—it was as if Ming saw right through him, as if he knew exactly what Phana was thinking. The yearning surged inside him, threatening to spill over.
"Ming," Phana said, his voice softer than he intended, "I..."
Ming raised an eyebrow, his expression curious yet patient. "What is it, Phana?"
The words caught in his throat. Phana shifted uncomfortably, his fingers curling into the fabric of his pants. He took a deep breath, then looked up at Ming again, his gaze steady this time. "I... I just want you to know how much you mean to me," he said quietly. "I'm not always good at saying things, but I need you to know that... that I really care about you."
Ming's expression softened, and for a moment, Phana thought he saw something flicker in his eyes—something warm, something sincere. He was scared to look away, terrified that Ming might see through him even more than he already had.
"You already know how I feel," Ming said after a pause, his voice gentle but firm. "I care about you, too."
Phana's heart lifted, but the yearning didn't subside. There was more he wanted to say—more he wanted to express—but he didn't know how. The feelings inside him were too complex, too deep, to put into words.
Ming reached out, taking Phana's hand in his and squeezing it gently. "You don't have to say anything more. I get it, Phana. And you don't need to worry about me not knowing how much you care."
Phana exhaled a shaky breath, his chest loosening with relief. Maybe the yearning wasn't something to be afraid of after all. Maybe it was just a part of how they loved each other—this unspoken bond that grew stronger with each passing day. And in that moment, Phana realized that sometimes, yearning wasn't about needing something to change. It was about acknowledging what already existed—this quiet, steady love that would always be there, whether spoken or not.
