Accidentally Married

56. Midnight snacking

The clock on the kitchen wall ticked quietly, the only sound breaking the stillness of midnight. The soft hum of the refrigerator filled the background as Aum leaned against the counter, watching Sailom carefully pour steaming noodles into a large bowl. The rich, savory aroma of the broth wafted through the air, mingling with the faint scent of toasted sesame and seaweed.

Aum couldn't help but chuckle. "You know," he said, grinning as Sailom set the pot down on the table, "I never thought a rich guy like you would be into instant noodles in the middle of the night."

Sailom glanced at him with a raised brow. "And why is that?" he asked, amused.

"I mean," Aum said, walking over and pulling out a chair, "most rich people I have met act like instant noodles are beneath them—like it's unhealthy food for peasants." He snorted, shaking his head. "I didn't think someone like you would enjoy midnight cravings."

Sailom chuckled, sprinkling sesame seeds and seaweed over the noodles. "Rich people can't eat instant noodles?" he teased, handing Aum a mischievous look over his shoulder.

"That's not what I meant," Aum said quickly, waving his hands. "It's just... I never thought I would meet someone who loves late-night noodles as much as I do. I have been eating them since I was a teenager. Every time I stay up too late, I get hungry, and noodles—instant ones—always hit the spot." His tone softened with nostalgia. "Never thought I would find someone who gets that."

Sailom's smile deepened as he placed two bowls and chopsticks on the table. "I get it," he said. "They are not exactly healthy, sure, but they are comforting. And sometimes that's what people need most." He sat down and added, "They are quick, easy, cheap, and somehow always taste like home. Once in a while won't kill anyone."

Aum nodded, his grin returning. "Fair enough." He reached over, snatching up some noodles with his chopsticks and placing them into his bowl. Steam curled around his face as he blew gently before slurping them in. The broth hit his tongue—salty, rich, and a little spicy. A delighted moan escaped him before he could stop it.

"Oh my god," he said with wide eyes, still chewing. "This is... so good."

Sailom looked amused. "I will take that as a compliment."

"It's more than a compliment," Aum said earnestly, taking another bite. "Seriously, what did you do to these, Phi? How can instant noodles taste this amazing?"

Sailom leaned back in his chair, smirking. "Trade secret."

Aum pouted, narrowing his eyes playfully. "You are cruel."

"Maybe," Sailom said, his voice light. "But I like keeping you curious."

Aum rolled his eyes but let it slide, too busy devouring another mouthful of noodles. His satisfied hums filled the room, and every sound made Sailom's chest warm. Watching Aum eat—watching his expressions shift from delight to wonder to pure contentment—felt better than tasting the food himself.

For a moment, Sailom allowed himself to believe that this was what normal love felt like—quiet, domestic, real.

The two ate until the pot was nearly empty. Aum was halfway through reaching for another helping when he froze. "Wait—where did the rest go?" He blinked at the pot, then turned to see Sailom lifting the last few noodles to his mouth.

"Hey!" Aum protested. "You finished them?"

Before Sailom could respond, Aum leaned forward mischievously. A thread of noodle hung from Sailom's lips, and without thinking, Aum leaned in and caught the other end between his own.

Sailom froze mid-bite, his eyes widening in disbelief.

Aum giggled softly, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "What?" he asked around the noodle.

Sailom could only stare for a second, his heartbeat quickening. He hadn't expected Aum—sassy, slightly clumsy Aum—to do something straight out of a romance movie.

They both started slurping from their ends of the noodle, meeting halfway. Their laughter softened into silence as the distance closed. Then, with barely an inch left, their lips brushed. The contact was light, teasing, and before either could stop, it deepened into a kiss.

Sailom dropped the bowl and chopsticks gently onto the table, his hands moving instinctively to Aum's waist, pulling him closer. Aum gasped softly, his hands coming to rest on Sailom's shoulders as the kiss grew warmer, fuller. It wasn't rushed or desperate—just tender, sincere, and breathtakingly gentle.

When they finally pulled apart, both were flushed. Aum's heart was pounding so hard he could barely hear anything else. His skin tingled where Sailom's fingers had touched him.

It wasn't like before—not like when they had first kissed under the guise of "trying it out," or that reckless night they had spent together when Aum had convinced himself it was just curiosity. This was different.

Something inside him shifted. Sitting there, on Sailom's lap, looking into those calm, affectionate eyes, Aum realized what it was—he had fallen for Sailom.

The realization hit him like a wave, washing over everything. His chest felt light, his face hot, and he wanted to hide under the table. For once, he wasn't just giving Sailom a chance. He was giving himself one too—a chance to love, and to be loved.

Sailom, still unaware of the storm raging inside Aum's chest, smiled faintly and brushed a thumb over his cheek. "What's wrong?" he asked, noticing how quiet Aum had gone.

Aum blinked, startled. "What?"

"You have been staring at me for a while," Sailom said softly. 

Panic flared in Aum's chest. He couldn't say the truth—not now, not yet. His throat went dry. "Ah—uh—it's nothing," he stammered. "I was just... thinking about something."

"About what?"

Aum forced out a laugh, desperately trying to hide his fluster. "About how silly that noodle thing was. I mean, really, what's so romantic about sharing a noodle? People in movies make such a big deal out of it." He shook his head dramatically, trying to act casual. "Those people must be crazy."

Sailom froze. The faint smile that had lingered on his lips faltered.

Aum, too embarrassed to notice, stood up quickly, scooping up the bowls and chopsticks. "Anyway, I will clean this up," he said, fleeing toward the kitchen.

Sailom sat still, his hands resting limply on his knees as he stared at the space where Aum had been sitting. His heart sank. For a brief, shining moment, he had thought they were on the same page—that Aum had felt it too, that the kiss had meant something. But Aum's words had snapped him back to reality.

He tried to tell himself it didn't matter, that it was just a misunderstanding—but it hurt. It hurt more than he wanted to admit.

From the kitchen, the sound of dishes clinking and water running filled the silence. Aum was humming softly, pretending everything was fine. He had no idea that his offhand comment had stung so deeply.

When he returned, he rubbed his stomach contentedly. "I feel so full," he said with a grin. "I think I ate way more than usual."

Sailom forced a faint smile and nodded. "Yeah." His voice was quiet, almost distant.

"The noodles were really delicious," Aum added. "You are seriously talented, Phi."

"Thanks," Sailom murmured, though his tone lacked its usual warmth.

Aum didn't notice. He was too busy patting his cheeks. "My face is definitely going to be bloated tomorrow," he said, groaning dramatically. "Jui's going to scold me for eating instant noodles at night." He yawned, fake and exaggerated. "We should go to bed."

He walked past Sailom, brushing his shoulder lightly, and disappeared into the bedroom.

Sailom remained seated, staring at the now-empty pot, his mind replaying that kiss—the laughter, the spark, the fleeting joy—and then the words that had shattered it.

He sighed softly, running a hand through his hair. For a moment, he had felt so close to Aum. But maybe, he thought bitterly, that closeness had only ever existed in his own heart.