"Just so you know, I've never washed anyone's hair before."
"Easy peasy."
"Don't 'easy peasy' me. You better not mess this up."
"I'll pay you, okay?"
"Sure, Mr. Rich Guy from Yeonnam."
"You're so sarcastic."
"You said you were from Yeonnammm."
Jetana exclaimed, sitting cross-legged on a chair dragged in from the living room, waiting as someone took off their shirt, now in just shorts, holding a box of cigarettes, a lighter, and a book, slowly lying down in the completely dry bathtub.
Marvis turned to meet his eyes while turning on the shower, a brightly-colored cigarette between his lips, just as the lighter clicked and music began to play through the Bluetooth speaker.
You bastard .
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing."
"Are you sure?"
"Me."
"..."
"If something's wrong, it's me."
We didn't talk further. Marvis focused on the book in his hand, while Jamie busied himself pumping shampoo into his palms and working it into the damp, oddly-colored hair. He scrubbed hard, sneaking glances at the other man who smoked and read simultaneously… He knew Marvis wasn't trying to look enchanting or anything—
But he did anyway.
"Does it smell bad?"
"If it did, I wouldn't be smoking it."
"You don't usually smoke much."
"I just don't want you to see me doing it. I'm trying to look like a good kid," the older man laughed, glancing down at Jamie, who was sincerely washing his hair—massaging, scrubbing, mumbling to himself.
See? Not a bad kid at all. He's such a good kid.
"Were you lying when you said you've never done this before?"
"Why would I lie to you about that? I'm clearly clumsy as hell. You're dry, but I'm soaked down to my underwear."
Marvis laughed with his eyes nearly closed, letting Jamie rinse the shampoo off slowly, gently, before applying conditioner to preserve the pale highlights in his hair—keeping it that silvery grey.
"Hang on, I'll wrap your hair up. Give me a sec. I've seen my mom do it."
"Go ahead and try."
"Now everything's a challenge with you, huh?"
The taller one dried his soft hair until it was damp, then wrapped it up like how moms do for their kids. His sharp eyes scanned the man now sitting in the tub, hugging his knees, looking up at him with wide eyes.
Two cigarettes gone, the bookmark in use, his round cheeks slightly flushed.
Seeing Marvis up close under the soft amber light, Jamie noticed faint freckles dotting his cheeks and nose. Those beautifully curved lips slightly parted, releasing a hint of that sweet cigarette scent.
Then it was Marvis' own elegant fingers that touched Jamie's face—tracing features gently, ending with a thumb brushing across his lips.
"I shouldn't kiss you."
"..."
"But I don't give a fuck anymore."
And in that moment, Jetana realized—
That Mars was never really that far away.
"Kiss me on the mouth and set me free."
The lyrics from the song playing were whispered against his lips just after Marvis pulled away from their first kiss. It was hot and smoldering in his chest—for a moment. Our lips still lingered, barely touching, before parting again when that planet wanted to share its next thought.
(Remember, Mars=planet. That's why Jett uses "planet" as metaphor to describe Marvis)
"But please don't bite."
And of course, the more you're told not to, the more you want to do it.
The second kiss came from him—this reckless astronaut. That's how he felt as he bit down hard on Marvis's lower lip and slipped his tongue into the warm mouth that was already open and waiting… You little devil. You're so damn mischievous, Jetana thought to himself, breathless from the intensity of the kiss.
We just sat there, staring at each other from different heights. Marvis's lips were swollen and bruised, and in that moment, he realized just how selfish he'd been with the kiss. Like Marvis had said—they probably shouldn't
have kissed at all.
The one being addressed didn't reply, just pulled the other into a hug, letting Jamie, full of questions, melt away in his arms. It was the same way clouds wrap around the sun—briefly hiding the blinding light. Someday,
something would be revealed.
Someday.
—
"So… you've got feelings about Christmas, huh?"
"Same as you."
"So, what do you say? Want to set up a Christmas tree? We could do it in my room."
"Do we really have to drive all the way to Nakhon Pathom just to hit a tree with the car?"
"Come on. If it's about being extra, trust me—I've got it covered."
"Fine, I'm free anyway."
"Obviously. You were so swamped with work you didn't even know which way was up. Your deadline got pushed way out, didn't it?"
I grumbled, taking a bite of my milk-flavored soft serve. He ignored me and dragged me to buy a Christmas tree before I even saw it. In the end, we ended up with a seven-foot-tall one.
Okay… definitely extra.
"Hey, hey! Why are you eating mine?"
"The chocolate's too bitter."
"Then why didn't you order milk in the first place?"
"Didn't feel like it then."
"You're so damn picky."
"Is that not allowed?"
"Ugh, here we go!!" If Puss in Boots had a signature move to melt hearts, I swear this guy shared DNA with that cat. In the end, I gave up and swapped my ice cream with him—even though I warned him it had my saliva on it, even after I told him I'd bitten into it a bunch. He still wanted it. That one—he's relentless.
"Is it good?"
"Mm-hmm!"
"You're so annoying!" I couldn't help it—I playfully bit the top of his head. Not hard, more like a nibble. He yelled for a bit before giving up, since he never could overpower me.
"Jamie."
"Yeah?"
"Can you be my model for a bit?"
"..."
"It's for my final project."
"Me?" I pointed at myself.
"We spend so much time together, I accidentally designed all the clothes to
fit just you."
"Damn… that's soft."
"Soft?"
"Like, if you tug even a little, it'll tear. If you blow on it, it'll fly away."
"You're describing paper."
"Tissue, more like." He laughed with squinty eyes, finally seeming to understand what I meant by "soft." Like, sure—I could be that, if I had to.
But what kind of soft was he talking about?
I'd never done this before, either.
"So, like… you want me to go all the way just to touch up your photos or what?"
"No."
"What?! Now I'm confused, boy."
"We'll just fly to Korea together. I'll pay for the tickets."
"Slay, P'Nut! Are you serious?!"
"Who's P'Nut now?"
"Holy shit. You can't be serious, that's insane."
"I get it, it's a hassle for you, all the travel and stuff… but there's only one Jamie. So what am I supposed to do?"
The last line sounded like he was talking to himself, but I heard it loud and clear as I pushed a cart loaded with the boxed-up Christmas tree and every kind of decoration—lights, stars, hanging ornaments, fake snow spray, cards, you name it. Marvis just kept picking stuff up.
Honestly, I'd stopped asking myself what we were doing a while ago.
Too tired to overthink it.
"I'm not really struggling or anything. I can go. It's during the break, and even after school starts, I'll still go."
"So stubborn."
"Excuse me?! You're the one who sold me the dream!"
I ruffled his hair until it was a mess, but he didn't mind. I told you—he's a natural at charming people. He even winked at some bookshop guy with a soft face earlier. See? Like he doesn't already know that when his hair's a mess like this, he's ridiculously irresistible.
"Is it too much trouble?"
"Nope. Mii can do it. I'm Superman."
"I'm so happy to hear that. I'll take extra good care of you when we get there."
He gave me an honest smile as I opened the driver's side door after we'd packed everything in the back seat. He couldn't drive. Honestly, if he didn't live in Thailand, he wouldn't need to—the public transportation in his country is top-notch.
"To be honest, our past projects weren't casual at all. Do you get what I mean?"
"Of course I do. Just look at the way you dress. People might get it, but I don't think many could pull off your look. Like, it's clear you've thought it through. And it works only on you."
"Aren't you flattering me a bit too much?"
"I'm being real. First time I saw you, I noticed your outfit before anything else."
"Hmm, I appreciate people who dress well too. It's like… they know themselves. Right? Am I using the right words?"
"You are."
"But I don't mean to say the way I dress is right or anything. What's good or bad depends on how you see it. I just know that this works for me—and that's enough."
I smiled faintly and steered us onto the expressway toward Nakhon Pathom.
Sometimes, I just like listening to him ramble—half Thai, half English.
Lately, his Thai had gotten better because I'd started avoiding long English conversations with him. I wanted him to get really fluent, like bam, full fire.
He's adorable.
In every version of himself, he's so damn adorable.
Ugh.
—
"I want to put the star on top."
"Say it in Thai. Make it cute."
"..."
"Come on, Mii will let you if you do."
"Are you forcing me?"
"Of course not. But if you don't do it, you don't get to put the star on."
Marvis crossed his arms, looking at Jamie who stood there smirking not far from the seven-foot-tall Christmas tree. We'd built it together—spread out the branches, wrapped the lights, hung all the decorations.
The final step was always putting the star on top.
He never let anyone else do it.
"Can I please put the star on?"
"Still not cute enough."
"P'Mii, can Marvis please be the one to put the star on?"
"Shit."
Jettana quickly handed over the star while avoiding eye contact. He could hear Marvis laughing, clearly pleased to have flustered him. Damn disloyal ears—why were they burning up so much? And before he could even get away to regain his composure, someone was tugging on the hem of his shirt again and again.
At this point, the only thing I've got left to give him is my life. Seriously.
"I can't reach the top."
"Mar, I'm begging you."
"Let me get on your shoulders."
"How about a chair? I'll go grab one right now."
"Nah. When I was a kid, my dad used to let me ride on his shoulders."
"Then call me daddy tonight. Deal?"
"..."
"That pout means no, right?"
"Fine. Daddy it is, then."
Ridiculous. He was the one who made the offer, and yet his heart was pounding just imagining Marvis calling him daddy over and over again in bed. God, what is wrong with me.
"Be careful not to fall."
"Then hold my knees properly, will you?"
"I am holding them, okay? Here we gooo."
Jamie said as he slowly lifted himself up. Marvis was so skinny—light enough that Jamie could carry him around without breaking a sweat. But that habit of wearing those short shorts around the house? It always did a number on him. And now, having Marvis on his shoulders like this…
Was he gonna end up walking hunched over again?
"Putting the star on now."
"Finally! I'm only human, you know."
"Okay—it looks good."
The taller man exhaled slowly, watching as Marvis flipped the switch, lighting up the Christmas tree. Yeah… it really was beautiful. But before he could say anything, that soft, plush body leaned back and bumped into his chest, making him instinctively wrap an arm around Marvis's waist.
It was Marvis who backed away just enough to check from a distance if the whole thing actually looked good. The two of them—both super touchy-feely—ended up cuddled close again, Jamie resting his chin on the shorter one's head while Marvis rubbed his cheek against Jamie's warm chest like a
clingy kitten.
"Can you take some photos of me?"
"Grab the camera. It's the Polaroid, right?"
"Here—take it."
Marvis ran to sit under the tree, beaming as the flash lit up. Soon there were three or four Polaroid prints. Jamie, who wasn't really one for photos, got dragged in to sit in the same spot and was ordered to smile big.
Now they had couple photos—kind of—even if they weren't in the same frame.
"Ugh, sit properly! You look all exposed."
"It's not like I'm showing these to anyone."
"You should know by now your vibe is basically 'sexy'."
"Of course I know."
"Ugh, you damn charm machine!"
Jettana muttered as he grabbed a drink from the fridge, glancing at the clock he'd mentally noted earlier. Crap—it was already evening, and he hadn't taken this guy out to eat yet.
"Hey, I'm all stitched up. Let's go eat. We've been messing around so much we forgot the time."
"Let's go. Got any good spots? I usually only come here to hit the bars."
"Yeah, I believe it. Everyone in my department talks about you—'that pretty one,' they all say."
"That much?"
"Don't act all surprised!"
Marvis laughed as he pulled on his jeans. His friends were always scolding him for pretending not to know how hot he was, or how good he was at playing with people's hearts. So he could only laugh awkwardly.
Sometimes he wanted to say it too…
That with some people, he wasn't playing at all.
—
"I'm scared I'll run into friends."
"Huh? Isn't that a good thing?"
"They'll tease me. You probably already have an idea what I'm like… Yeah. My friends, they want me to have a boyfriend."
"And getting teased for being my boyfriend—what's so bad about that?"
Jamie wanted to bite his own tongue off right then and there.
Seeing Marvis's uncomfortable expression just made him want to die more.
And here he was—someone who normally hated explaining things—having to explain again, because he always gave in to this person.
"It's not that it's bad, but… we're not actually dating or anything."
"Says who?"
"Marvissss!"
"I know, I know. It's not like I love you or anything."
"Right back at you. Don't love you either."
They walked side by side like that. The restaurant was just in the alley behind the dorm. He'd picked this area because lots of his friends lived nearby. Usually, walking out just a short way meant someone would say hi.
But with Marvis—his eternal lucky charm—along for once, they ran into absolutely no one… and the restaurant hadn't even sold out of its best dishes yet.
"Is this the one you said was good?"
"Yep. Garlic shrimp. Duang brought his boyfriend here and ate like… a hundred shrimp."
"That's a lot to eat."
"Ugh, you actually believe that?!"
"What's this drink? I really can't read it."
"Chrysanthemum tea."
"'Chrys'? Like, as in 'pretentious'?"
"Don't mix things up! Calm down, kid."
And once again, Jettana found himself explaining—this one's chrysanthemum tea, tastes like this, looks like that. Then there's bael fruit tea like this, pennywort juice like that…
"I'll just get iced milk."
"See? You're totally playing it safe."
"Why?"
"You asked me all those questions, and in the end you go with the safest option."
"I was just worried it might not taste good."
"If it's bad, you can trade with me."
So Jamie ended up ordering the chrysanthemum tea that Marvis had clearly
been curious about but was too afraid to try in case he didn't like it. He lived by the rule: if you order something, you finish it—thanks to getting emotionally invested in a National Geographic documentary about people
traveling through Ethiopia.
Man… this guy.
"This color's terrifying."
"It's yellow like eye strain."
"Eye strain again."
"Yeah, exactly, kid. Okay, okay—try it."
Marvis eyed the bright yellow drink with deep suspicion. It didn't smell too bad. Whatever—only one life to live. Dying from chrysanthemum tea would be just ridiculous. And the moment he took a sip… the pink milk glass slid across the table toward Jettana, who'd been resting his chin on his hand, waiting for a reaction.
"It's good—actually tasty."
"..."
"It's super sweet, but I like it."
"Knew it. You've got the sweetest damn sweet tooth."
"Was it that obvious?"
"Of course. I've seen you at work, downing boxes of chocolate, smoking like a chimney. You're all sugar, but somehow you're still skinny. So unfair."
"That's what they call… whining, right?"
"Wow, you know stuff."
"Am I good at this?"
"You're amazing. The best. You've always been the one."
"Where do you even get these goofy lines?"
"I'll give you the source later. Let's eat first."
He had to confirm once again—Marvis really was like a kid. He didn't like eating proper meals. If it wasn't spaghetti, he'd barely touch it. And if there were no spaghetti noodles, he wouldn't bother cooking for himself either.
Picky eater, addicted to sweets, and chewed so slowly it made you want to pinch him.
"Mar, don't stuff your mouth with food."
"I'm not stuffing it."
"This is exactly what stuffing your mouth looks like. Total kid behavior."
"..."
"Chew."
Jamie started coaching.
"Chew, please. Hurry up... yes, just like that. Very good."
Marvis looked at the younger guy—three years younger—but he took care of people so well, it made him wonder if Jamie was really an only child.
And the worst part? Marvis actually played along. When Jamie chewed, he chewed.
When Jamie told him to speed it up, he did…
And that garlic shrimp? Actually pretty good.
Up till now, he'd only ever eaten pad thai, som tum, and green curry.
That was it.
"Good, right? Eat a hundred shrimp. Compete with Khun Qin."
"I'll burst."
"Cute. You even know the phrase 'bursting belly.'"
"You're always complimenting me, huh."
"Can't help it. You really are cute. I told you, I always say what I mean."
Before Marvis could even respond, someone tapped him gently on the shoulder, making him turn around. Jamie did the same.
"Excuse me…"
"..."
"Are you two dating? Because… I like you. Could I get your Line ID?"
One of them almost dropped their fork and spoon.
He thought he was straightforward, but this? Some random stranger, blurting it out right there in the middle of a meal?
"We're not dating."
He used to wonder, if Marvis ever got a boyfriend, how crazy would that boyfriend have to be—jealous, clingy, hovering all the time. Honestly, he didn't even know if he was the possessive type like Duang was. Of course, he'd never had anyone before.
"Right, not dating," Jett repeated. But if this—if this—was called being possessive…
"But he's not giving you his Line."
Then yeah, maybe he was possessive.
—
"What? I just didn't like that guy. He looked like a player."
"So what if he did?"
"It matters."
I looked at Jamie, whose face was all scrunched up. He was chewing angrily on a long, sugar-coated jelly stick from 7-Eleven, like an angry little chubby kid.
"That guy didn't pass."
"Then who would pass?"
"Well, I don't have anyone either."
"Are you the possessive type?"
"..."
"Whoa, silent treatment?"
I walked beside him as he veered off in another direction. When he got flustered or embarrassed, he'd always do this—change the route, eyes on the ground, ears turning red, and not saying a word. I tried to hold in a smile as I watched his broad back. He kept glancing over his shoulder every so often to check if I was still there, if I was following or had gotten lost. He looked like a big-headed puppy.
Sometimes, more like a moody cat.
"Jamie."
Always says he doesn't love me.
"What now?"
"Nothing."
"Don't give me that. I'm not possessive."
"Yeah, yeah, I get it."
"It's just… blocking the scene, that's all."
"Okay. Blocking the scene, got it."
I agreed, even though I had no idea what "blocking the scene" meant. I'd teased him enough. Didn't want him to get any grumpier.
It didn't take long to get to the seventh floor by elevator. He told me it nearly broke him financially to get a room in this dorm, especially one on the seventh floor. Jamie said he liked watching sunsets—it felt like resetting every day. A signal that said, clear your head, let go of the good and bad for
now.
Tomorrow, we begin again.
"Beer?"
"One can sounds good."
"I'm gonna have a smoke. Want one?"
"I'm out. You smoke menthol?"
"Yup, imported. Want one?"
"I'm not that picky."
Then I took off the jeans I was lounging in and changed into the same old shorts he hated. Unless I forgot or was really in a rush, I wouldn't wear them outside.
Even if I was opening up more these days, it wasn't quite enough yet.
Changing the time I stepped outside wasn't a big deal… I walked over to stand beside him. He pushed his long bangs back and let the wind move the thin silver loop earrings he always wore. They swayed. I watched the way he smoked, exhaled that cloudy breath, and then turned to lock eyes with me.
"You know what song just popped into my head?"
"Tell me."
"Spending the years together, growing older every day."
He looked at my fingers tapping a rhythm against the balcony rail. The wind blew hard, brushing the hair he once called "weird but good." And he reached over, brushing the strands that had fallen in my eyes away.
"I feel at home when I'm around you and I'll gladly say again... I hope the encore lasts forever."
I once read in a book that someone tried to argue Einstein was wrong when he said: You can't blame gravity for falling in love.
Because the truth is, you can blame everything when you're falling.
Blame the ground.
Blame the sky.
Blame your stupid heart.
Blame the unruly feelings that don't know their place.
But there's one thing you'll never blame.
"And it's you that knows my darkness. And you know my bedroom needs."
And that… is him.
That person—maybe with light brown hair, earrings in both ears, and a tattoo on the ridge of his left wrist—
It was written in his grandfather's handwriting, carefully inked with his real
name: Jettana.
We locked eyes, for a long time after I finished reciting that part of the lyrics.
Long enough for the distance between Earth and Mars to shrink down to zero.
We kissed, shared breath, and the distinct taste of different cigarettes—how it changed when it lingered in his mouth.
His hand gripped my waist the way mine tangled in his hair.
Earth.
Mars.
An astronaut.
A whole box of sweet chocolate.
Him.
Us.