Catch me (when I fall)

Epilogue Part: 2

Then his phone is ringing and his boyfriend's caller ID is flashing across the screen. Tine smiles and picks it up.

"Tine... I need some help." 

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There are two extremes in the world: there's the Sarawat category- people who keep their composure in most kinds of situations and then the Tine category- people who easily lose their wits in almost all situations. 

So when he gets a message such as this with no further explanation, he naturally, immediately panics. Wat's saying something vaguely about a change of clothes and then everything goes a little blurry, a little hazy. Like Tine's been plunged underwater; god alone knows what he throws into his knapsack. 

Nothing really registers, not until he's out of the car and in the elevator. There's some lilting turn played on a pianoforte that sounds appreciable enough. Tine can't appreciate it though, it just helps him zone out into a frenzy of spiraling thoughts. All the way from the basement car park to the third floor studio there's a movie-reel of scenarios playing in his head; Wat injured and bloody, Wat sick and feverish, Wat in the aftermath of a fistfight.

'What if there's been a breach of security,' comes the wild thought, 'If one one those rabid fans got their hands on him- or the paparazzi burst in...'

The possibility seems quiet far- fetched but the very thought of it chills Tine to his bones. He presses on the lift button a couple more times even though he knows full well it makes no difference. Some stroke of luck must be on his side because the elevator is uninterrupted, which a first in all of his elevator experiences. Even before the doors have fully slid open, he's out and he very nearly succeeds in running over Man who's waiting right outside. Only Man's quick reflexes save them both from toppling over; still they stagger a few steps before righting themselves. 

Tine notes the marked absence of any ruffle in the other man's countenance- so not a fist fight then. Man's just about to say something, his lips parting around the words but- in that very instant- the studio door behind him swings open. Tine wastes no time- quickly sidestepping past Man and then Earn just as she exists the studio. 

Inside, on a familiar beige couch that faces away from the door, sits a burrito. A distinctly Sarawat-shaped burrito. Tine walks a wide curve around it and comes face to face with his boyfriend. In a burrito. This was not exactly what he had expected to find. All he can think is- 'What?'

 "What?" he questions a little sharp, a little disbelieving because he flew all the way here for this?!

Wat startles a little, maybe at the tone and starts off with a plaintive, "You see, I..."

Tine's not listening- no, because Tine does see. He sees the folds of the admittedly flimsy burrito slip down Wat's bare shoulder and give him a full view of the pinkened skin on his chest. Tine takes a wide step to take a better look and it has Wat stopping mid- explanation as he instinctively leans back. This results in the blankets unraveling further so that it now rests bunched around the musician's waist. 

His right forearm is now revealed and it looks worse; an angry red patch trails over the skin and it shocks Tine enough that he reaches out for it. He's stopped by Wat's other hand which snaps out, his long calloused fingers curling around his own wrist. Tine takes in the way Wat has cradled his right arm to his chest, the wide-eyed stare, the fine tremors that run through his musical fingers. 

"You're- why are you shaking?" he asks.

"Tine," breathes Sarawat, "I'm not shaking- you are. Listen, come here and sit down." 

The fingers wrapped around his wrist are tugging and Tine gives into it, letting the knapsack fall with a gentle thud from where it's been hanging off his shoulders before he falls onto the couch. Or rather, falls into his boyfriends's careful embrace. The warmth of it distracts Tine from anything else; he doesn't even realise Wat has snaked a hand into his unruly strands until he feels it. He recognises the gentle pats,  evened out in the beat of a rhythm only the two of them know. 

More than anything else, it's this simple act that invokes a visceral reaction within him. It's almost as he's been yanked out of a sea of nervous worry; everything is coming back into crystal clear focus. He tilts his head a little- from where it fits into the curve of Wat's neck- so that he can hear the words the latter is saying. 

"- you ok now? Can you stop wandering off for a minute?"

Tine hums to show his assent.

"Good, so... you've already seen it but it's not as bad as it looks- seriously. Just got burned a little, that's all-"

Tine whips his head up and stares at him.