Fah was used to the look eyes gave him when he and Tawan shared the same space. He first dismissed it as mere nothing, just the usual attention that followed Tawan like perfume. But lately, the whispers persisted, and eyes followed with more purpose.
He noticed it again that morning in the engineering building. He walked beside Tawan, playfully arguing about who made worse coffee—engineers or med students—when a pair of juniors nearly dropped their notebooks while trying to stifle their laughs.
"Do they think we're some kind of circus act?" Fah muttered once they were out of earshot.
Tawan smirked, brushing off imaginary dust from his white coat. "Maybe they just enjoy the show."
"Not funny."
"It's a little funny," Tawan replied, his grin too bright to dispute.
They reached the courtyard, where the shade of an old tamarind tree stretched wide across the benches. Tawan stopped suddenly, tugging at Fah's wrist enough to make him stumble.
"Let them whisper," Tawan said quietly. "We're not doing anything wrong."
Fah's ears grew hot from the touch. "Easy for you to say. You don't have to put up with engineering rumors making everything drama."
Tawan cocked his head, regarding him like a puzzle he took great pleasure in solving. "Then let's provide them with something worth gossiping about."
Tawan spoke before Fah could answer, leaning forward, close enough that his breath tickled Fah's ear. "Dinner tonight. No excuses."
Fah swallowed hard. "That's blackmail."
"That's an invitation."
---
Later that night, they sat across from each other at a small riverside food stall, away from campus eyes. The lanterns hanging from the awning flickered gently in the breeze.
"You're really not worried?" Fah asked while picking at his grilled chicken.
Tawan dipped a piece of sticky rice into chili sauce, then looked at him with that maddening calm. "Worried about what?"
"The looks. The gossip. People connecting dots."
Tawan's hand brushed against him beneath the table, once and purposeful. "If they're seeing dots, it's because they're listening. Let them."
Fah's chest tightened. He ached to object, but the warmth of Tawan's hand lingered like a response he didn't want to hear.
For the first time, Fah realized he wasn't merely standing up to rumors. He was standing up to himself—the self part of him that already knew he didn't want to let her go.