Catch me (when I fall)

Epilogue Finale

A good session of hair-petting and a few, fleeting stolen pecks- all Wat's doing- later, Tine finally gets to know what's really happened. The whole fateful event is condensed, as most events usually are, into a story that's comically short and almost as comically silly. 

Basically, Wat's sleep- schedule had finally caught up to him; after rehearsals, they were having a coffee break when his boyfriend fell asleep. With a steaming mug of coffee. Still in his hand. The rest was self-explanatory. Tine is caught between laughing in disbelieving relief and smacking Wat for his carelessness. He waits till Wat's done explaining before he pulls back from the embrace to ask-

"That sounds bad...like- it must have hurt!"

The guitarist shrugs his shoulders dismissively enough that it could have fooled anyone else but Tine. He wisely chooses to keep his silence though; if Wat doesn't want it to be addressed now, then he's going to wait. 

That is when a he remembers, "Did you apply any burn ointment? Wat, I didn't bring any-"

"Come on Tine, do you think we're so heartless?" comes Man's simpering voice from behind them and the pair of them are so startled they nearly head- butt each other. 

Wat throws one of his trademark glares as his friend rounds the couch saying, "We have a first aid-box and it had some aloe vera containing, world-certified burn salve. Believe or not, our rough-and-tough Earn helped this guy apply-"

"More like she slathered me in it," bites out Wat. Tine only raises an unimpressed eyebrow at him because, " You know, I'm surprised she helped you at all." 

Wat continues to grouch, "She would have helped me turn into a zombie too if-"  

"-So what," Tine quickly interrupts, directing the conversation back  , "were you doing, Man?"

Man smiles winningly, " Thought you would ask. I ran down to the supply closet to get this piece of art." 

The statement is punctuated with a flourish as he brandishes the shirt he had been hiding behind his back. There's a solitary line of print on the white cloth and it reads 'I'm trying to be a nice person.' Tine braves a glance at Wat who has adopted a dead-eyed gaze at nothing in particular and then finds himself marveling at Man's definition of positive media propagation.

 Before he can voice this thought, there's a familiar female voice announcing- " We have two minutes till the live-talk!"

That's all it takes for everything to descend into chaos. Pete, the drummer, and Wren, the bassist, pop by and take turns in checking up on Wat's health while simultaneously ordering him to rest his injured arm. The last sentiment is vehemently echoed by Earn, who is still perched by the doorway, when Sarawat makes as if to oppose their concerns. 

Man, meanwhile, streaks past all of them to fling the questionable t-shirt back in the depths of the supply closet. One of the make-up artists squeezes into the crowd to tame some of Wat's fly-away hairs while the production staff calls for everyone to clear out. There's two more staff members fussing over the burns, offering to bandage them and promptly being rejected. 

In the center of this hurricane of activity, Tine digs out his dress shirt and helps Sarawat into it, absentmindly buttoning it up and patting down the creases. Then, he beckons Wat to hold up both his arms, plams facing skyward. 

"I am a man of order," he muses as he rolls up the cuffs, "but I don't a little bit of chaos once in a while." 

The hubbub ends as abruptly as it started.  As if under  a spell, the whole lot of them troop out, except for Earn who is now almost violently gesturing for Sarawat to move his butt. Tine watches as Wat rises up from the couch, stretching out like a cat through it all, before he makes his languid way towards the doorway. 

Inexplicably, Tine finds himself twisting his entire frame around just to track his boyfriend's trajectory- maybe it's some of residual worry, some need to ascertain that Wat's alright, everything's alright. Wat must feel the gaze upon his back because he suddenly stops mid-way and turns around. Tine prides himself for not startling and for braving the molten eyes that now meet his own. 

There's a simplistically modern set of french windows in the farthest corner of the room. The blinds drawn over them have a gap in them which conveniently lets through a stray beam of the blazing noon sun. Convenient in the way that it places a rectangle of light right upon the place where Wat stands.

There's sunlight rippling through his hair and specks of gold in his warm eyes and- well, Tine would go on if not for Earn's pointed rapping against the door-frame. Wat breaks their mini-staring contest and is moving across the carpeted floor again.

The words are out of his mouth before he registers them, "Wait, Saraleo!"

"Tine?"

"Don't even think about touching the guitar."

There's something like amazement on Sarawat's face; it's one of those rare moments when Tine has caught him off-guard, "I-I won't?"

"You know the answer to that."

Then there's a lecherous grin unfurling upon Wat's face which a sure prelude to one of his witticisms- "And what may I be presented if I follow your order, Prince Nuisance?"

Tine only shoots an exasperated half-smile-half-frown back at the idiot.

"If you guys are done playing your 'maiden and prince' fairy-tale nonsense, there about thirteen thousand fans waiting for your online speech, Mr.Musician," comes Earn's bored voice. 

Wat's reply is embarrassingly fast, "But Tine will always be my Prince."

Tine curses himself inwardly for still blushing despite knowing first-hand how nauseatingly cheesy Sarawat can get. Earn leaves in a slew of muttered words and disapproving tsks.

Now it's just the two of them in a room full of sunlight and something special; because how can Tine not fall for this- this Saraleo again and again and again. Wat smiles back at him like he knows and-

'Maybe, hopefully,' Tine thinks- 'he does.'

"You'll watch it through the app, right?" Wat implores.

"To see thirteen thousand fans throw their hearts at you?"

That annoying grin is back, "What, like you're not going to?"

"I was afraid," Tine admits, "you'd say something like that."

"No need to be afraid," Wat whispers, like it's a riddle only the two of them know the answer to. 

Tine understands, soaks in those heavy words and gives back seemingly airy ones of his own, "Then I guess I'll throw one heart of my own- let it fall into the lot with the rest of them."

"No," declares Sarawat and the emphasis on it is so tangible it has Tine meeting his stare head-on- "I'll catch it- I'll catch yours Tine."

"Really?"

"Without a doubt, your Majesty." 

There's a decisive nod that follows and Tine finds himself nodding back. When finally, a completely careworn Earn struts through the room to drag Sarawat to his responsibilities, Tine gets up and gives him a wave in farewell. 

It produces a smile- a soft, gentle thing- to bloom upon his boyfriend's face. 

'That, Tine realises, 'looks a lot like love.'