ด้วยรักตลอดไป (With Love, Forever)

Jackson

I stayed in my room for a while longer, the wine forgotten in my hand. My mind was swirling, a thousand thoughts crashing against each other. I couldn't quite shake that conversation—those words from Jeff, the way he'd looked at me. I wasn't sure if I was overthinking it or if something really had changed between us, but it felt... different now. 

I sighed, setting the glass down on the bedside table, and stood up. Maybe I just needed some air, or at least a distraction. I needed to get out of my own head.

I made my way into the hallway, hoping the stillness of the house would calm me. But as soon as I turned the corner, I saw something unexpected.

There, sitting on the floor outside my door, was Jeff—still in his jeans and T-shirt, his feet stretched out in front of him, his head tilted back as he watched something on the TV across the hall.

 He hadn't even moved into the living room or taken a seat on the couch like I expected. Instead, he was sitting right there, like he'd been waiting for me.

I couldn't help the small smile that tugged at my lips, though I didn't want to show it too much. Jeff was unpredictable like that—always present, always supportive, even when I didn't ask for it.

"Why are you not on the couch?" I asked, trying to sound casual, though I had no real excuse for lingering.

Jeff turned his head toward me, eyes lighting up with recognition. His smile was warm, not forced. It was the kind of smile you'd give to someone you cared about—someone you were at ease with.

"I figured you might need some company." He shrugged lightly, tapping the space beside him. "Come sit. Movie's good. Just what you need after a long day."

I raised an eyebrow but couldn't hide the amusement in my expression. "What's the movie?"

"Just a comedy," he replied, as if it were the simplest thing. He patted the floor beside him. "You sure you don't need to check on Xinxin?"

I shook my head. "She's out like a light. I'm good."

So, I sat down beside him, our shoulders almost touching, but neither of us made a move to close that gap. The space between us felt comfortable in its own way—an unspoken understanding of just being there, no pressure.

The movie played quietly in the background, but my focus wasn't really on it. I kept stealing glances at Jeff, the easy way he seemed to settle in, as if nothing was amiss.

It was as if we had both agreed, without saying it, that the world could just pause for a moment. We didn't need to talk, didn't need to discuss all the heavy things hanging over us.

And yet, there was something in the silence that felt heavier now, in a way I hadn't expected. My mind kept drifting back to our earlier conversation—his words, his gaze, the way it felt like there was something more between us. I wondered if he had noticed it too.

Finally, I cleared my throat, unable to leave the quiet tension hanging in the air any longer. "You ever feel like life keeps throwing curveballs, but you're not sure which one's going to hit you next?"

Jeff turned his head slowly, his expression unreadable for a moment before he spoke. "Yeah. I get that feeling a lot."

There was a long pause between us. And in that moment, I wondered if we were both thinking the same thing.

"You know you don't have to be here," I said softly, though the words sounded almost wrong in my mouth. I couldn't decide if I meant it or not. The last thing I wanted was for him to feel obligated to stick around.

Jeff simply smiled; his voice quiet but steady. "I know. But I want to be here."

His words hung in the air, resonating with something deeper than just friendship. It was a subtle shift—a connection that felt more real, rawer, than anything I'd allowed myself to consider before.

I looked at him, meeting his eyes for a moment, and I swear I could hear the thumping of my heart in my ears. His gaze was steady, but there was a softness there, a vulnerability that mirrored my own.

For a brief moment, it felt like we were on the edge of something new, something unknown. And maybe we were both too scared to say it, but we felt it—this thread between us that had always been there, just beneath the surface.

Finally, I exhaled and leaned back against the wall, closing my eyes for a second. "Thanks, Jeff. For, you know, just... being here."

He didn't respond at first, just nodded, his smile lingering. "Always," he murmured, his voice low, almost like a promise.

I wasn't sure if it was just the exhaustion of the day or something else, but in that moment, it felt like we were standing on the brink of something new. Something neither of us could fully understand, but both of us were slowly, quietly ready for.

The movie continued to play in the background, but the silence between us seemed louder than anything on the screen. And for once, I didn't mind.