Race to you

Chapter 9: 🏍️

Kimhan stares at his phone; he can't make up his mind, as if he's in a very tough situation—as if choosing between texting or calling Porchay is a life-and-death situation.

As Kimhan slowly gets familiar with his feelings for Porchay, his heart and mind start clashing.

His heart wants him to keep talking to Porchay, keep getting close with him. Kim's heart wants him to keep exploring life outside the racetrack. His heart wants him to fully grasp what he feels with Porchay.

This warmth, calmness, and happiness that Porchay gives him; the butterflies playing in his whole damn body and his cheeks blushing whenever Porchay steps closer to him, and the erratic thumping of his heart when Porchay calls his name—Kim's heart wants him to put a name on those feelings.

Was it a simple fondness?

Does he like Porchay?

Or was it too early to call it love?

But his mind—oh, what a messed-up mind he has.

His mind kept on telling him he can't like Porchay; he needs to focus on the race. He has been skipping his practice already just to be with Porchay. If they start dating, what other important part of his life will he ditch just to be with Porchay? His mind says to stay friends. They're better off as friends. Kimhan's messy head repeatedly reminds him what his brother—Kinn—has called him. He's childish. Porchay doesn't deserve someone as childish as him who couldn't even settle if he wants to keep racing or not. Porchay doesn't deserve someone who can't even fight back for himself.

Kimhan felt as if he had an angel and a devil whispering on each side of his ears, making him choose and pressuring him. Playing and messing up his heart and mind.

"Hello?"

"P'Kim?"

"Kim, why did you call?"

"Huh? Did he accidentally call me?"

"Phiiiiiiiii~ Kiiiiiiiiiiiiim"

Porchay's continuous chuckles pull Kimhan out of his heavy trance. He looks down on his phone, and what welcomes him is the screen of his phone saying he's been on a call with Porchay for almost 8 minutes already.

His fingers might've had a mind of their own that they moved freely, or maybe... maybe calling Porchay is what Kimhan really desires.

Kim clears his throat, swallows a small lump of saliva, and takes a few deep breaths. "Bambi..." said, almost a whisper.

"P'Kim!" Porchay's cheerful voice made him smile. "I thought you accidentally dialed my number. You weren't answering earlier," he added. Kimhan swears he could imagine the pout on Porchay's lips and the slight frown on his forehead; despite that, Kim still thinks Porchay looks cute from the other side of the phone call.

"Sorry, I couldn't choose if I should text or call you."

"Hmm? But you called me." Porchay sounded confused.

"Yeah. My fingers slipped."

Porchay's chuckles once again grace Kim's ear, but it's louder and more bubbly this time. Kim is sure that if Porchay is in his bed right now, he's probably rolling on his bed as he laughs.

"My fingers moved on their own," Kim reasons out, making Porchay scoff and repeating his words—teasing him.

"Why are you debating on texting or calling me then?" Porchay puts the call on speaker; he places his phone down beside his head as he grabs a pillow—hugging it tightly. He's on his bed, lying down and facing the ceiling with some glow-in-the-dark stars still giving him a slight glimmer despite their old age. "Missed me?"