At night, Julian was in the kitchen, lost in his own rhythm. The light above him buzzed faintly, casting a warm hue over the counter as he leaned on one elbow, scrolling through game reviews on his laptop. Music played low from the speakers—not loud enough to disturb anyone, just loud enough to hum along.
But as the song changed, something caught him. A familiar melody. He knew this one.
Without thinking, he started to sing—quietly, almost to himself. The kind of singing that slips out when you're alone and feel safe enough to be soft.
มันมากกว่าคำว่าที่รัก
You're more than the word "love"
ที่ฉันยกให้เธอน่ะที่รัก
What you are to me, my love
แค่เราได้เจอ เพียงได้สบตาก็รู้ว่าคำนี้
Just a glance, just a touch
ยังเป็นของฉันและเธอเสมอ
This love will always belong to us
In the next room, Thomas paused. His eyes lifted from the glow of his laptop, brow furrowed slightly—not in annoyance, but confusion. Julian's voice was low, breathy, barely there. But there was something in it—honesty, maybe. That strange brand of sincerity Julian didn't even realize he carried in everything he did.
Thomas turned his head slightly, gaze landing on the open doorway. Through the sliver between wall and frame, he could see Julian swaying gently with the melody.
His body moved like a slow pendulum, barefoot, sleeve rolled up, hair slightly messy from the shower. Not performing—just existing.
ที่รัก ทุกครั้งที่ได้ยินคำว่ารัก
My love, every time I hear the word "love"
ในใจมันนึกถึงเพียงแค่เธอ
You're the only one I'm thinking of
อยากให้รู้เอาไว้ว่า
I just want you to know
อ้อมกอดนี้เป็นของเธอนะที่รัก
These arms are yours forevermore, my love
Julian turned, mid-line, and caught him. Thomas, still watching—expression unreadable as always.
Their eyes met for a breath.
Julian blinked and paused the song, clearing his throat. "Am I loud? Can you still hear me in there?"
Thomas leaned back slowly. "Yeah. Very loud. Close the door."
Julian narrowed his eyes playfully. "Ugh. How rude."
He crossed the kitchen, grumbling under his breath with exaggerated offense before shutting the door with a soft click. Thomas watched the frame for a second longer, then looked back to his screen.
But the lyrics lingered.
About an hour later, the kitchen door creaked open. Julian emerged, laptop tucked under one arm, phone in the other. He walked past Thomas without a word.
Their eyes met in passing.
Julian rolled his eyes.
Thomas muttered just loud enough, "Crazy."
Julian didn't respond, but Thomas saw the corner of his mouth twitch—an almost-smile, almost-annoyed. The moment passed.
The next morning, golden light slanted through the kitchen blinds. Thomas was already seated at the table, eating breakfast with his usual precision—toast cut in halves, eggs slightly runny, black coffee. His glasses rested atop his head like a makeshift headband, pushing his hair back—except for the strands that refused to behave and still fell across his forehead.
He looked... composed. Almost effortlessly so.
Julian shuffled into the kitchen, still in his oversized shirt and plaid pajama pants, yawning like a bear emerging from hibernation.
When he saw Thomas, he froze mid-step—mouth wide open in mock shock. Then slowly, dramatically, he shut it.
"Well, good morning, my rude roommate," Julian said with theatrical sarcasm, rubbing his eyes.
Thomas didn't look up, kept chewing.
"Looking good today—I mean," Julian quickly added, "Looking rude. Like always."
Thomas gave him a sidelong glance and the faintest hint of an eyebrow raise—barely a reaction, but enough to make Julian flush as he spun toward the bathroom door.
"Shut up," Thomas muttered, almost to his toast.
Julian called back without turning, "Didn't say anything."
He closed the bathroom door behind him, leaving Thomas alone again.
But Thomas wasn't really alone. Julian's voice—his song, his glance, his stupid dramatic entrance—still clung to the room like steam on glass.
Thomas sat still for a long second.
Then reached up, quietly lowering his glasses from his forehead. He stared at his reflection in the dark screen of his phone. He didn't look composed.
He looked… like he wasn't sure what the hell was going on.
A few minutes later, the sound of the bathroom door opening echoed softly in the quiet dorm. Julian stepped out, towel draped over his shoulders, still drying his damp hair with one hand. He looked up—and froze.
Thomas was already standing by the door, hand on the knob, clearly about to leave.
"Hey! Stop!" Julian called out, lowering the towel.
Thomas paused but didn't turn around. "What?"
"Wait for me," Julian said, already crossing to his bed where his bag lay.
"You walk alone," Thomas muttered, fingers tightening around the knob.
"Wait. For. Me," Julian repeated, slower this time, like he wasn't asking anymore.
Thomas let out a soft sigh, voice low. "Why? Just walk alone. Or call your noisy friend."
Julian glanced at him, brows furrowed, still rubbing his hair dry. "Oh, come on. Please, wait for me."
A pause. Then a reluctant, almost inaudible, "Fine," from Thomas as he leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, gaze distant.
Five quiet minutes passed. Julian slung the towel over his chair, grabbed his bag, and tossed it over one shoulder. He walked over to Thomas, who hadn't moved.
"Let's go," Julian said with a small smile, nudging him gently before stepping out first.
Thomas followed silently, and Julian turned to lock the door behind them. The hallway light flickered above them as they started walking side by side—neither speaking, but neither pulling away.
^^^song: มากกว่าที่รัก - Emi Thasorn^^^