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merryfuture2025-01-03 12:27 pm
staygame) wrote in merryfuture2025-01-03 12:27 pm
Entry tags:
only boo!: i'll say it once, i'll say it twice (2024)
i'll say it once, i'll say it twice (ao3 link, see original work for author's notes) | only boo!, kang/moo, teen, 1.4k words
tags: canon related, developing relationship, slice of life, no archive warnings apply
---
A list of things just as good as kissing (not that Moo would know):
1. Conversations with P'Kang
If you asked Moo's mom, she would say that Moo is a natural born conversationalist. Talking had always come as easy to Moo as performing; charming the auntie selling skewers into a discount, chatting about music with fellow hopefuls waiting in long audition lines, talking in circles in an attempt to confuse his mother into letting his transgressions slide. He speaks his mind, even when he shouldn't.
Moo hasn't asked Kang's mom, but he assumes she would say that Kang is not a man of many words. It's not like he's rude or anything—Moo knows that he's adored by all of his regulars at the market—but Kang is more measured with his words. A "never use ten words when five will do" kind of guy, if you will.
But not with Moo.
They can sit for hours just talking, long past when Kang says, "I should take you home, you have school tomorrow" and Moo reminds Kang that he's the one who has to be up even earlier. At the river, with Moo's head in Kang's lap or their thighs pressed together, strolling through the park with their fingers intertwined, lingering outside of Moo's building, stalling for more time together.
Moo tells Kang about watching K-pop idols back in elementary school and how certain he was even then that singing and dancing were the only things he wanted to do. The performances he would put on for his mom in the living room before she realized he was serious about debuting. She'd tried to talk him out of it with stories about the artists she worked with but Moo could never be so easily deterred.
In turn, Kang tells him about learning to cook alongside his mom, the hours spent peeling hard boiled eggs and forming meatballs. How he taught himself to draw at a back table at the restaurant, the first set of watercolor paints he purchased with the money he'd earned helping wash dishes on the weekends.
"Did you ever have time to run around and play with your friends?" Moo asks. They're at the river again. Moo has his legs draped over Kang's legs, practically sitting in Kang's lap. He would, if Kang would let him.
Kang traces his thumb over Moo's exposed knee. "Nah. It was just me and Neth. And I would've rather been drawing anyway."
"Hey. Do you think your dad would've liked me?" Moo regrets the question as soon as he asks it. His own dad is thousands of miles away, but he's never been a real part of Moo's life and besides, far away isn't the same as gone. "Sorry," he says quickly, as Kang's hand stills. "Pretend I didn't ask that."
Kang swallows, then shakes his head. "No, it's fine," he says. His expression is complicated, a half-smile that doesn't reach his eyes, his gaze somewhere in the distance. Moo wants to reach out and smooth away the crease between Kang's brows but he can tell that Kang is thinking and for once, Moo resists the urge to touch him.
"I think he would've liked how hard you work," Kang says after a moment. "And how you won't let anyone tell you that you can't do something." He looks at Moo now, eyes fond. "And I think he would've liked how happy you make me."
"How happy?" Moo asks.
Kang reaches for him suddenly, pinching Moo's cheeks between his fingers. "So happy," he says.
Moo doesn't care that his cheeks are burning or that Kang is teasing him. He knows that Kang really means it. "You make me happy too, P'Kang."
2. Watching P'Kang
On most afternoons when he's not practicing with Payos and Potae, Moo bikes straight from school to the market. He sits under the shadiest tree and works on his homework, or at least makes it look like he's working on his homework so that whenever he catches Kang's eye, Kang gives him a proud smile, thinking that Moo has brains in addition to his looks and determination. Or at least that's what Moo hopes Kang is thinking.
Moo has never thought that selling rice and curry was a particularly sexy job, but it is the way Kang does it. The way his apron defines his waist, his forehead on display when he turns his cap backwards to keep his hair out of his face, the flex of his forearms as he scoops a portion of rice for a customer. Moo rests his chin on his hands, admiring the view, until his study timer signals the end of his break and Moo forces his attention back to his English homework.
Sometimes during a lull, Kang will bring his sketchbook and join Moo at the table. When that happens, Moo's homework becomes an instant afterthought, too busy watching the quick, precise strokes of Kang's pencil.
It's like if Moo stares hard enough, he can imagine Kang and his path not taken. A college student, not weighed down by grief, not working himself to the bone out of duty. Kang would wear a white button-up and drive his bike to campus instead of to the market. He'd make friends—cool friends like Neth, girls and boys with dyed hair and streaks of paint staining their clothes.
And even on that different path, even if Kang had never sold him kai palo in Nakhon Pathom, Moo likes to think they still would've met. Maybe not as little brat and bad-mouth-kind-heart-phi, but as students, arts faculty senior and junior. Maybe they'd lock eyes across the canteen, or Kang would help Moo with directions to the music building, offering to walk him the rest of the way. Moo is certain they'd be destined to meet across any timeline, one way or another.
"You're staring," Kang says without looking up.
"I'm appreciating art," Moo says.
"I just started this sketch, it's not even art yet."
"I was talking about you, phi."
Kang closes his sketchbook and stands. "I have to get back to work," he says, and while there is nothing Moo would enjoy more than staring at Kang even longer, rendering Kang speechless is always nice.
3. Sleeping with P'Kang
Not like that!—though Moo is sure when it does happen (he has visions of candles and rose petals and a song composed specifically for the occasion), it will be great too. No, he means actual sleeping.
It's only happened one time. Moo had convinced Kang to watch an episode of his favorite drama with him and while it wasn't exactly a setup, where else were they supposed to watch it besides Moo's bed? And how else were they going to fit in Moo's twin bed without Moo tucking himself against Kang's side, Kang's arm looped around him?
Which is not to say that Moo didn't enjoy it. He spent the first several minutes of the episode with his face pressed into Kang's chest, breathing in the scent of laundry detergent and soap, until Kang lowered the phone and asked, "Are you even watching?" and Moo quickly nodded, not wanting to give Kang an excuse to get up.
Moo doesn't remember falling asleep, but it's dark when he wakes up. He's confused at first, that kind of post-sleep daze where it could be morning or the next night or anywhere in between. Then his foot brushes against Kang's leg and oh, yeah.
In the glow of the one lamp Moo had left on—"It's mood lighting!" he'd said, and Kang looked at him pointedly, asking, "What mood?" and Moo said, "To get into the mood of the drama, obviously."—he can see that Kang has fallen asleep too. His mouth is half-open (cute, Moo thinks) and his eyelashes are dark against the warm lamplight on his skin.
Something clenches in Moo's chest and he feels a little like crying. He could listen to a hundred love songs and none of them would be able to convey this feeling, the way that his heart actually hurts with the certainty that Kang will be the great love of his life. He almost wants to shake Kang awake and tell him, but then Kang, the gentleman that he is, would insist on going home and leave Moo all alone so Moo just lets the words stay put in his throat, kept safe for later. Besides, he can feel sleep coming for him again.
Moo is careful when he extracts Kang's arm out from under him and rolls onto his side, shifting closer to Kang and his warmth as the aircon blows quietly above them.
It would be nice if Kang's face could always be the last thing he sees before falling asleep, Moo thinks, and then lets his eye fall shut.
tags: canon related, developing relationship, slice of life, no archive warnings apply
---
A list of things just as good as kissing (not that Moo would know):
1. Conversations with P'Kang
If you asked Moo's mom, she would say that Moo is a natural born conversationalist. Talking had always come as easy to Moo as performing; charming the auntie selling skewers into a discount, chatting about music with fellow hopefuls waiting in long audition lines, talking in circles in an attempt to confuse his mother into letting his transgressions slide. He speaks his mind, even when he shouldn't.
Moo hasn't asked Kang's mom, but he assumes she would say that Kang is not a man of many words. It's not like he's rude or anything—Moo knows that he's adored by all of his regulars at the market—but Kang is more measured with his words. A "never use ten words when five will do" kind of guy, if you will.
But not with Moo.
They can sit for hours just talking, long past when Kang says, "I should take you home, you have school tomorrow" and Moo reminds Kang that he's the one who has to be up even earlier. At the river, with Moo's head in Kang's lap or their thighs pressed together, strolling through the park with their fingers intertwined, lingering outside of Moo's building, stalling for more time together.
Moo tells Kang about watching K-pop idols back in elementary school and how certain he was even then that singing and dancing were the only things he wanted to do. The performances he would put on for his mom in the living room before she realized he was serious about debuting. She'd tried to talk him out of it with stories about the artists she worked with but Moo could never be so easily deterred.
In turn, Kang tells him about learning to cook alongside his mom, the hours spent peeling hard boiled eggs and forming meatballs. How he taught himself to draw at a back table at the restaurant, the first set of watercolor paints he purchased with the money he'd earned helping wash dishes on the weekends.
"Did you ever have time to run around and play with your friends?" Moo asks. They're at the river again. Moo has his legs draped over Kang's legs, practically sitting in Kang's lap. He would, if Kang would let him.
Kang traces his thumb over Moo's exposed knee. "Nah. It was just me and Neth. And I would've rather been drawing anyway."
"Hey. Do you think your dad would've liked me?" Moo regrets the question as soon as he asks it. His own dad is thousands of miles away, but he's never been a real part of Moo's life and besides, far away isn't the same as gone. "Sorry," he says quickly, as Kang's hand stills. "Pretend I didn't ask that."
Kang swallows, then shakes his head. "No, it's fine," he says. His expression is complicated, a half-smile that doesn't reach his eyes, his gaze somewhere in the distance. Moo wants to reach out and smooth away the crease between Kang's brows but he can tell that Kang is thinking and for once, Moo resists the urge to touch him.
"I think he would've liked how hard you work," Kang says after a moment. "And how you won't let anyone tell you that you can't do something." He looks at Moo now, eyes fond. "And I think he would've liked how happy you make me."
"How happy?" Moo asks.
Kang reaches for him suddenly, pinching Moo's cheeks between his fingers. "So happy," he says.
Moo doesn't care that his cheeks are burning or that Kang is teasing him. He knows that Kang really means it. "You make me happy too, P'Kang."
2. Watching P'Kang
On most afternoons when he's not practicing with Payos and Potae, Moo bikes straight from school to the market. He sits under the shadiest tree and works on his homework, or at least makes it look like he's working on his homework so that whenever he catches Kang's eye, Kang gives him a proud smile, thinking that Moo has brains in addition to his looks and determination. Or at least that's what Moo hopes Kang is thinking.
Moo has never thought that selling rice and curry was a particularly sexy job, but it is the way Kang does it. The way his apron defines his waist, his forehead on display when he turns his cap backwards to keep his hair out of his face, the flex of his forearms as he scoops a portion of rice for a customer. Moo rests his chin on his hands, admiring the view, until his study timer signals the end of his break and Moo forces his attention back to his English homework.
Sometimes during a lull, Kang will bring his sketchbook and join Moo at the table. When that happens, Moo's homework becomes an instant afterthought, too busy watching the quick, precise strokes of Kang's pencil.
It's like if Moo stares hard enough, he can imagine Kang and his path not taken. A college student, not weighed down by grief, not working himself to the bone out of duty. Kang would wear a white button-up and drive his bike to campus instead of to the market. He'd make friends—cool friends like Neth, girls and boys with dyed hair and streaks of paint staining their clothes.
And even on that different path, even if Kang had never sold him kai palo in Nakhon Pathom, Moo likes to think they still would've met. Maybe not as little brat and bad-mouth-kind-heart-phi, but as students, arts faculty senior and junior. Maybe they'd lock eyes across the canteen, or Kang would help Moo with directions to the music building, offering to walk him the rest of the way. Moo is certain they'd be destined to meet across any timeline, one way or another.
"You're staring," Kang says without looking up.
"I'm appreciating art," Moo says.
"I just started this sketch, it's not even art yet."
"I was talking about you, phi."
Kang closes his sketchbook and stands. "I have to get back to work," he says, and while there is nothing Moo would enjoy more than staring at Kang even longer, rendering Kang speechless is always nice.
3. Sleeping with P'Kang
Not like that!—though Moo is sure when it does happen (he has visions of candles and rose petals and a song composed specifically for the occasion), it will be great too. No, he means actual sleeping.
It's only happened one time. Moo had convinced Kang to watch an episode of his favorite drama with him and while it wasn't exactly a setup, where else were they supposed to watch it besides Moo's bed? And how else were they going to fit in Moo's twin bed without Moo tucking himself against Kang's side, Kang's arm looped around him?
Which is not to say that Moo didn't enjoy it. He spent the first several minutes of the episode with his face pressed into Kang's chest, breathing in the scent of laundry detergent and soap, until Kang lowered the phone and asked, "Are you even watching?" and Moo quickly nodded, not wanting to give Kang an excuse to get up.
Moo doesn't remember falling asleep, but it's dark when he wakes up. He's confused at first, that kind of post-sleep daze where it could be morning or the next night or anywhere in between. Then his foot brushes against Kang's leg and oh, yeah.
In the glow of the one lamp Moo had left on—"It's mood lighting!" he'd said, and Kang looked at him pointedly, asking, "What mood?" and Moo said, "To get into the mood of the drama, obviously."—he can see that Kang has fallen asleep too. His mouth is half-open (cute, Moo thinks) and his eyelashes are dark against the warm lamplight on his skin.
Something clenches in Moo's chest and he feels a little like crying. He could listen to a hundred love songs and none of them would be able to convey this feeling, the way that his heart actually hurts with the certainty that Kang will be the great love of his life. He almost wants to shake Kang awake and tell him, but then Kang, the gentleman that he is, would insist on going home and leave Moo all alone so Moo just lets the words stay put in his throat, kept safe for later. Besides, he can feel sleep coming for him again.
Moo is careful when he extracts Kang's arm out from under him and rolls onto his side, shifting closer to Kang and his warmth as the aircon blows quietly above them.
It would be nice if Kang's face could always be the last thing he sees before falling asleep, Moo thinks, and then lets his eye fall shut.