Archive of Our Own

Now

“I want a divorce!” Kongpob screams, throwing another book across the room.

Arthit ducks out of the way and holds up his hands, scrubbing at the wetness and trying to calm his errant husband. “Kongpob, will you calm the fuck down? That’s almost half the library you’ve hurled at me, surely you can’t be that angry?”

Kongpob stares at him, darkness in his eyes, “Angry?” He says, voice full of contempt, “You think I’m just angry?! Tell me, P’Arthit. If I’m just angry now, then what do you call this?”

And then he grabs the whole bookshelf and drags it from the wall, books and wood and plaster ferociously crashing down between them, barely missing Arthit!

—————————

Two Months Earlier

“P’Arthit? I’m back, where are you?” Kongpob drops his briefcase by the door and heads deeper into their home, looking for his wayward husband. “I came back early.. I thought we could..”

But the sentence is never finished, because in the next moment, Kongpob’s foot slips on something wet and he goes flying through the air, head slamming into the edge of the coffee table.

He lies in a tangle of limbs, moaning for a moment and then his body collapses into a slump on the ground and his breathing slows and he loses consciousness, blood pooling around his head.

——————————————

Arthit clutches Pluffin to his chest, taking comfort from his warm little body as he waits for Kong’s mother to arrive. She has been meeting with the specialists for the past two hours and Arthit is desperate to hear what they have to say.

He knows he’s lucky that the Suthiluck’s have donated enough money to have a wing named for them in this hospital, because no-one has batted an eyelid at the Sphinx cat he is holding in his arms. Pluffin had tried to get to Kongpob, of course, but Arthit’s been keeping him close, kissing his wrinkled head and whispering to him to keep himself calm while he waits.

Kongpob lies prone in the bed beside them, as he has done the entire time Arthit has been here, silent and still.

Arthit desperately wants to hold his hand, but he can’t, there are too many machines and wires and tubes between him and his husband, and he can’t risk disturbing any, no matter how much he wants to push them all away and scoop Kongpob into his arms and shower him with love and make him feel better by osmosis. No matter how much his heart is crying out for his husband to just wake up!

When he’d first arrived, he had gotten close enough to kiss his cheek gently before the nurse had urged him away and brought him to the sofa he’s now waiting restlessly on. Where he’s been waiting anxiously for what feels like hours, desperate to know what the prognosis is, for what feels like several jagged days.

In their whole relationship, Kongpob has always been the confident and forthright one, the one who initiates things and makes them happen. He’s the reason they’re together, the reason they own their home, the reason Arthit went for his promotion at work. He’s also the reason they own this tiny kitten, who is not a replacement for a child, but is kind of a ‘trial run’ in Kongpob’s words.

Arthit isn’t usually the one in charge. Sure, he’s good at celebrating anniversaries and birthdays and special occasions, making Kongpob’s eyes light up with happiness when he cooks one of his secret recipes or buys him flowers. But Kongpob is the one who knows how to handle surprises. How to deal with an unexpected visit from a parent, for example, when they’ve just finished making love and their things are strewn around the room. (Not that Arthit is often willing to make love outside of the four walls of their bedroom, but.. special occasions do occur!)

Now, as Arthit sits and waits, his mind runs through a landslide of scenarios where he’s about to be told the worst possible news - that Kongpob is too sick to wake up, that Arthit will have to let him go, that his husband, love of his life, will be leaving him to raise Pluffin alone. Basically, he’s waiting for his worst nightmare to take over from the nightmare he’s already living in. And it feels like his skin is too small for his body and everything is being squashed - especially his heart.

The reason that Arthit isn’t in with the specialist doctor alongside Kongpob’s parents, is because of Kongpob’s reaction when he had briefly awakened earlier.

The Doctor in charge of his care, his primary nurse, both of his parents and Arthit had been in the room while some tests were being performed. And when Kongpob’s eyes had flickered open at the doctor’s touch and his mother had leapt to her feet and rushed into his line of sight, Arthit’s husband had recognised her, called out ‘Mae’ and then ‘Por’. But he hadn’t called out for Arthit.

Indeed, when Arthit had stepped into sight, Kongpob had scrunched up his nose and asked if he was one of the doctors and Arthit had to be led away to the sofa where he had collapsed into soundless sobs, his body forming an inverted comma as he bent in on himself, trying to stop the waves of nausea in his stomach.

Kongpob didn’t know him.

Kongpob, his husband and the love of his life for at least the past ten years, had no clue who Arthit was.

The pain had lanced through Arthit’s chest and he had utterly shut down, unwilling to speak to anyone until Pluffin had been brought to him by his best friend Knott and he had released his heartbreak as he cried into his soft little head.

Kong’s parents had tried to comfort him, had told him they were sure it wasn’t permanent, that he would remember Arthit soon. But Arthit had seen the sympathetic and knowing looks from the doctor and the nurses and he knew there was a possibility they were wrong.

Sure, it could be temporary, just some passing thing because of the trauma to Kongpob’s brain, or, it could be an utter disaster and Arthit would have to face the worst scenario he could imagine, Kongpob might never know his husband again!

He’s still lost, deep in his own terrible thoughts, when Kongpob’s mother returns. He clutches the cat tighter to him, feeling Pluffin struggle a little, but needing his comfort for this conversation.

“He’s okay, Arthit,” Kongpob’s mother is soft-spoken as she takes a seat beside him and wraps an arm over his shoulder, bleeding warmth into his fear-frozen limbs. “Obviously, he’s not okay okay yet, but the specialists are pretty certain this will be temporary and that he’ll regain all his memories soon. But..”

Arthit snuggles into her shoulder, wanting his mother-in-law to comfort him now where Kongpob cannot, wanting to be told that he will get his wonderful husband back soon.

But her next words are shocking and his heart thumps painfully against his ribs, sending tiny shockwaves of agony through his nervous system and spreading throughout his body. And Arthit gasps to try and catch his breath and then leaps from the couch, Pluffin dropped into Mrs Suthiluck’s lap as he begins pacing in front of his husband’s hospital bed as tears cloud his vision.

“What do you mean I have to pretend to be his friend, Mae?” He whispers angrily and then watches as his mother-in-law starts to cry too. Like the bucket of ice Bright had once dumped down his back, it shocks him to see and he quickly realises that his behaviour isn’t going to help, so he stops and stands in front of her, eyes begging her to tell him it’s not true.

“The doctor said we have to go with what Kongpob thinks is reality right now or it might damage his recovery. I don’t want you to have to do this, Arthit, I know how unfair it is to you. But if you - if we - don’t, then we might never get him back properly! And wouldn’t that be worse? Wouldn’t not having him in our world at all be so much harder than.. oh my boy, my boy.” She tugs him towards her and wraps him in her arms, trying to comfort him where she knows she cannot as he dissolves into her, “I’m so sorry, Arthit. I’m so, so sorry. I can’t even begin to tell you how much. He’s my son, of course, but he’s yours really. He’s been yours since that first day he met you, he always tells me that and I can’t bear to.. can’t bear for you to have to…”

Arthit’s anger melts away as she starts to cry in earnest, and he sits back down, gathering her close, both trying to comfort each other in their frustration and dismay.

Absently, he watches as Pluffin eases his way off the couch and delicately trots across the room, leaping lightly onto the bed and pawing at Kongpob’s arm. He knows he should move their cat, that it’s probably not hygienic or a suitable aid to his recovery, that the doctor’s would be mad if they saw it.. but how can he when Kongpob’s hand suddenly twitches and his fingers rest on Pluffin’s wrinkly back and start to stroke gently.

Kongpob’s recovery is slow. He spends nearly a month in the hospital undergoing tests and making sure he can carry out little tasks independently since some movements he still finds hard and some things he seems to have a vague sort of memory of.

And during that month, Arthit, with the help of Kongpob’s mother, alters his marital home.

They make the spare bedroom into a room for Arthit, moving his clothes and nic-nacks inside. Their myriad of couple photos, including shots from their wedding day, come off the wall and are replaced by generic ones from Kong’s mother’s collection. Then they check the rest of the house for anything that might give them away and right before the day Kongpob is going to be discharged, Arthit sadly moves Pluffin’s bed into his new room.

The first night Arthit has to sleep in there, not wanting to leave his smell on the bed that is now solely Kong’s, Pluffin paws at the door and cries and tries to make Arthit let him out. But he can’t. He needs him with him to keep him strong and to remind him why he’s doing this - why he’s accepting, that for the near future, Kongpob is nothing more than his friend and roommate. Without the little cat, Arthit feels like his resolve might crumble, that he might end up lost and crying in the various rooms of their house at all hours of the day and night.

But Pluffin keeps him grounded and he makes sure to keep him close and to tell him all his secret wishes, and about the pain he can’t shake off and he finds that it eases his anger and soothes the fierce storm that’s always swirling inside him as he waits in anticipation for what’s to come.

On the morning Kongpob’s due home, Arthit slides off his wedding ring and tucks it into the velvet case it came in (a total surprise on the day Kong proposed). He understands why he has to, but it’s the first time he’s ever removed it and there’s a tiny bite in his skin where it’s formed a little groove, having sat there for a number of years untouched.

Kongpob’s ring finger has been bare since the day of the accident. His simple silvery band, complete with a secret inscription inlaid, sits beside Arthit’s in the box and he stokes a finger across the pair, wishing more than anything that today was the day he could return it to his other half.

But he can’t. He knows that. So he does a final cursory check that he hasn’t left anything incriminating in his room, and then goes into the lounge to sit with Knott who has joined him for moral support.

They rest their shoulders together and Knott checks in on him periodically as they wait, a random show as background noise barely scratching the surface of Arthit’s twisted thoughts.

Eventually, the door knob turns and Kongpob’s mother steps in holding the hold-all that Arthit had swiftly packed with Kong’s most comfortable clothes when the accident had been fresh.

Behind her is a pale looking Kongpob.

Knott’s hand tightens on Arthit’s forearm as his instincts take over and he almost leaps to his feet to check on his husband. He can approach him as a close friend of course, since he and Kong live together, but he is not sure he can hold back from pulling him into a bone-crushing embrace or, worse (better), a kiss.

So he sits on the sofa with Knott’s hand on his arm and suffers in silence as he watches Kong look around with wide eyes.

“I live here?” He asks his mother and she smiles and agrees that he does. “Oh. It seems.. rather large for one man.”

“But there’s Arthit, of course,” his mother replies, motioning to the sofa.

At this cue, Knott slackens his grip and they stand shoulder to shoulder as Kongpob looks between them, confused.

“That would be him,” Knott says eventually, aware that Arthit’s throat has closed up and he cannot make a sound that is not a whimper.

But he does raise a hand briefly in a quick hello and then forces his eyes away from where they are cataloguing his husband’s form. He looks thinner and that worries Arthit. He wants nothing more than to run his hands all over him and check where he needs fattening up. He wants to chastise him for (probably) not eating enough in the hospital and push him onto the couch to kiss him welcome home, and then go into their kitchen and whip up Kongpob’s favourite foods and hand feed him in their bed and get told off for scattering crumbs around.

Instead, he lets out a small whimper, ramming a hand over his own mouth before he turns and dashes for the toilet.

He only just makes it, heaving over the bowl until he can’t throw up anymore, and then Knott’s hand slides smoothly between his shoulder blades and he leans into the comfort as he cries.

When they come back out, Kongpob has retreated to their bedroom and his mother is standing, waiting for him in the kitchen.

Arthit steps in and closes the door firmly behind him and then she gathers him in her arms and he lets some more of his tears escape, sliding down his face and soaking into her dress.

“I’m sorry,” he whimpers, unable to stay calm, “I thought I could.. I mean.. I wanted to..”

“It’s okay darling, I know. I feel terrible. Honestly, I have lost a huge part of my son. But I know it’s worse for you. But Arthit, he’ll be back, I truly believe that. I can’t think of it any other way. He’ll be whole again soon, I’m sure.”

Arthit nods against her neck and she continues to soothe him until he can pull himself away, wiping at the tears and trying to pull himself together.

There’s a discreet knock on the kitchen door - Knott warning them - and Arthit turns away, opening the fridge as he wipes furiously at his face again and tries to hide his damp cheeks.

“Mae?” Kongpob’s voice is the same, except he sounds suspicious and Arthit panics that he’s left something glaring out in view, something that proclaims them as lovers, husbands, best friends.

But it turns out he’s over thinking.

“Mae, did you pack my favourite red jumper? I was looking for it.”

Arthit gulps hard, a gasp exploding from his mouth that he tries to muffle by stuffing a strawberry into it. Because Kongpob’s favourite red jumper is not Kongpob’s at all, it is Arthit’s.

Kongpob had stolen it half a year ago, claiming that it was better if he wore it because then Arthit would always snuggle with him when he did.

Kong’s mother trails her fingers over Arthit’s shoulder as she answers Kongpob, “Oh, yes. I’m sure it’s in the bag, let’s go check together.”

There’s a frozen moment in the kitchen when they’ve left and then Arthit pulls his cold face out from the fridge and turns and buries himself into Knott’s neck.

They’re wrapped in each other’s arms, Knott whispering that he’s sure it will get better and asking if Arthit wants him to stay, when something crashes to the floor and when Arthit lifts his head, Kongpob is standing in the doorway watching them and there’s a broken plate on the ground.

Kongpob looks startled and twists away, muttering, “Sorry, sorry, I’ll get the broom.” Then he’s gone and Arthit and Knott share a sad look.

There are five long, uncomfortable minutes after Kongpob’s mother and Knott leave. The two men sit on opposite sides of the couch sneaking glances at each other and Kongpob opens his mouth a few times as though he’s going to speak, but doesn’t.

The tension is high and Arthit is almost ready to throw in the towel and retreat from the room, which is when Pluffin stalks in, head and tail held high.

He flounces past Arthit and straight to Kongpob who leans down and holds out his hand and says, “Well hello there little fellow, who are you?”

Arthit’s heart clenches and he wants to yank Pluffin from Kong’s side and run to his new room and throw himself on the bed and bury his face in their cat and cry.

He doesn’t, of course, instead he says, “That’s Pluffin.”

He doesn’t recognise his own voice, vocal chords swollen from heaving and crying, and he tries to hold himself together as Pluffin leaps lightly onto the couch and nuzzles into Kongpob’s outstretched hand.

“Oh!” Kongpob’s voice is full of wonder, “He likes me?!”

Arthit wants to snap that of course Pluffin likes him, that of course he loves him, because Kongpob is the one who had chosen him, after all. That Kongpob is the one who brought home this tiny scrap of a cat and proclaimed him their son.

They had fought over his name for almost a week, Arthit determined that Pluto was a strong name for him while Kongpob argued that he was more of a cutie and should therefore be named for their favourite pastry - a Muffin.

Eventually, Kongpob had taken Arthit to bed and pressed both names against his skin, and kissed him until he was moaning and then Arthit had returned the favour, making his husband scream in pleasure until they had agreed - it was nicer to compromise..

And so, Pluffin was born.

“Well,” Arthit says awkwardly, “He’s our house cat, so of course he’d like you.” It’s the most he’s said to his husband in over a month and it feels like his throat is closing up as he speaks and like all the air in the room is turning into poisonous droplets that are trying to kill him.

He gulps hard as he watches Kongpob make space for Pluffin to settle on his lap, where he curls into a ball and begins to purr loudly.

“Did we.. I mean, is he ours? Did we choose him together?” Kongpob sounds earnest and Arthit wants to help him relive the memory. Arthit had been so shocked by the tiny bundle in Kongpob’s arms when he’d brought him home and he wishes his husband could remember it too.

But the doctor’s voice rings in Arthit’s ears and he merely smiles in a strained kind of way and replies, “You chose him.”

“I did?” Kongpob looks down in wonder at their cat and seems lost for words. But then he swallows hard and strokes Pluffin’s head and looks up at Arthit, eyes shining, “But why can’t I remember him?”

He looks distraught and Arthit wants to comfort him even though he doesn’t know how to without letting all his own frustrations out - ‘Why can’t you remember me?’, he wants to scream!

“I guess it was the..” Arthit can’t say the words, so he swirls a finger in the air and Kong fills in the gap.

“The accident?” He frowns hard and presses his face into Pluffin’s skin and the cat squirms a little before he settles down, “This is freaking ridiculous! The doctor told me I’d have gaps, things about my life I won’t recall, but how can I forget the cat I picked out?”

Arthit leaps to his feet, words trapped by his lips as he screams inside his head, ‘Cat? You forgot the damn cat, yes! But me! You forgot me too! Your bloody husband! Ten years together! How! How?!’

Instead, he swallows hard and grabs his empty glass, “I need a drink..”

Kongpob’s gaze follows him, heavy between his shoulder blades, as he heads for the kitchen. Inside, Arthit leans against the worktop, letting his whole body sag. Never would he have thought that he’d need this much space from his own husband!

Lying in the cold guest room, Arthit cycles through his memories of Kongpob before, and not the Kongpob he’s faced with now. He rubs at his face, trying to wipe away the tear tracks which are becoming a permanent feature. Fumbling for his phone, he dials Knott’s number, hoping that he meant it when he said Arthit could call any time.

He’s part way through crying on Knott, when there’s a scrambling sound at the door and he heads over to let Pluffin in.

“Oh!” Kongpob averts his eyes as he’s confronted with Arthit’s bare chest (he’d had to take his shirt off because it was too tear-soaked), “I’m sorry, he was trying to get in..”

Arthit affects a smile and bends down to lift the little cat into his arms, surprised that Pluffin would come to him and not follow Kongpob to their room and his usual bed. As he does, Knott’s voice blares from his phone, “Arthit are you okay? What’s happening? Is it Kongpob?”

Arthit forgets the cat in his haste to stab at the screen and silence Knott, looking up to see Kongpob is averting his eyes from the image on his phone.

Then Kongpob shuffles on his feet and points behind himself, “I’m sorry, I’ll just.. go..”

Arthit looks down and realises that his trousers are all wrinkled like he’d thrown them on hurriedly. Then he catches sight of Knott waiting patiently on video chat and he’s topless too and Arthit can only imagine what Kongpob thinks he’s just interrupted.

Kongpob, his husband, who has somehow temporarily forgotten him or pushed down his memories of him or repressed them or whatever. Kongpob, who’s forgotten Arthit, and has probably also forgotten that he likes men, has just seen him looking like he’s been rolling around in bed while talking to his half-naked friend!

Fuck! Arthit’s stomach heaves, muscles contracting where it feels like he’s just been thumped. It’s so painful that he wonders about raiding the bathroom for some pain medication, but then that might just lead to more awkwardness with Kongpob if they bump into each other again.

Fuck! This is NOT how he imagined his life going.

He plucks Pluffin up from the floor and shakes his head at Knott and hangs up and then collapses on his bed, face down.

Of course, he forgot to close his bedroom door - so he misses Kongpob hovering outside it for a long moment, watching with a confused frown as Arthit’s breathing evens out and he falls into a deep sleep.

Arthit’s dreams are twists of red and gold. He dreams of Kongpob standing in his doorway with a disappointed expression, Pluffin clasped in his arms. The cat is struggling to get to Arthit but Kongpob is holding him tightly and whispering, “Just forget him, Pluffin. He’s not someone worth remembering. He’s just a footnote in our lives. Come on, you want to live with me.”

Then Kongpob turns and even though Arthit screams and yells for Kongpob and for Pluffin, it’s like he’s invisible and he clutches at his hair, tearing at it, as Kongpob and Pluffin vanish into a black mist.

The dream continues and Arthit writhes in his sleep, limbs flailing. Kongpob rematerialises on the bed beside him, leaning over him, breath dancing across his cheeks, and dream Arthit is transported back to a month ago and the way Kong would always wake him gently for work. But his whispered words are anything but gentle. Harsh accusations hit him, leaving fiery trails across his flesh. Kongpob’s twisted mouth turns into an endless black hole of insults and injury and Arthit curls up, dread and pain making him hate himself. Then without another word, Kongpob vanishes and leaves him in burning shame and Arthit roll and twists in the sheets and wishes he was holding his husband in his arms and they were together and Kongpob remembered.

When Arthit awakens at last, the dream lingers and he knows that it’s simply his own insecurities and overwhelming feelings that have caused the terrible nightmare. His own sadness at how things are going currently in his life and the fact that it seems like he has no power to change them.

He struggles to untangle himself from the sheets, but once he has, he checks on Pluffin who is curled into a ball still on his bed and fast asleep. He’s glad he didn’t wake him, but there’s someone he is going to need to wake up.

Knott answers on the first ring, bleary voiced, but not angry.

“I told you whenever Arthit and I meant that. Anyway it’s almost six so I have to be up and out soon.”

“I really appreciate you. I’m sorry about last night but I’m glad you were there. You're just..”

Arthit elbows his way into the kitchen and grabs a glass from the cupboard by their fancy fridge which dispenses cold water and ice, completely missing the fact that he isn’t alone inside.

“I don’t deserve you, Knott. I’m so lucky you’re in my life.” He lifts the full glass to his lips and gulps a large mouthful as Knott makes suggestions in his ear. “No, I don’t think you should come round now, Kongpob has only just got back, it might be too much for him. Later? Yeah. Thanks. Yeah, love you too you big sap! Don’t let Prem hear you say that!”

There’s a smashing sound and Arthit whirls around to find Kongpob staring at him, hand outstretched and a smashed glass at his feet. “Kong!”

He’s about to tell Kongpob to stay still so he doesn’t cut his feet, when his husband bolts from the kitchen, leaving Arthit staring at the puddle of water and shards of glass and wondering if they represent their shattered relationship and if he’ll ever be able to piece them back together.

For the first time in a while, Arthit returns to work. He makes it through a terrible day, fraught temper making everyone avoid his desk like it’s surrounded by a force field, which is fine by him. It means he’s finished on time and out the door before anyone can question him. But it also means that he’s home far too early, sitting awkwardly on the cream leather couch he and Kong chose together a long time ago, with his husband staring at him like he’s some kind of museum exhibit.

“Umm.. did you have a good day, Kong?” Arthit asks, his voice sounding foreign to himself as he tries to speak in a soothing tone and not damage the tenuous truce between them.

Arthit has spent a good portion of his day going over the events of the early morning and he still doesn’t know what caused Kongpob to drop the glass and bolt from the kitchen. But the remnants of his dream are lingering, swirling through his mind, and he is concerned that his dreams of them fighting are only a hair's breadth away from coming true.

Kongpob stares at him from the opposite couch, eyes flicking over him as though to assess his mood, “Not really a good day, no. It was a bit awkward actually.”

“Oh?” Arthit isn’t certain how he’s supposed to react to that, does Kongpob want him to ask him for more details.. or not? He doesn’t say anymore, just waits patiently, letting Kongpob decide how to respond.

“My friends came round. They were.. awkward to say the least.” Kongpob says, “They wouldn’t answer any of my questions and it kind of pissed me off to be honest.”

“Oh?” Arthit says again, wishing he could ask Kongpob what exactly he wants to know, but far too scared in case he blurts everything out and ruins his recovery before it has even started.

Kongpob leans forward from the opposite sofa, eyes dark and intense and making Arthit squirm as they look at him in a way he’s familiar with. Kongpob is going to grill him - fire questions at him until Arthit breaks, just like he used to do in the early days of their relationship when he wanted to know absolutely everything about him and wouldn’t take no for an answer.

Arthit gulps hard, preparing himself mentally, thinking through the answers he had come up with alongside Kongpob’s parents and friends when the doctors had explained the situation to them.

“What I want to know,” Kongpob begins, “Is why.. when it seems like you can’t stand the sight of me, we are living together?”

Arthit gulps again and tries not to let the tears fall that have begun to creep their way beneath his eyelids. He sucks in air, trying to stop his heart from beating so quickly like it’s going to march out of his chest. Then he stares over at his husband who’s eyes have changed again, narrowing into slits that show he’s working something out.

Arthit gulps once more and opens his mouth and says.. nothing. He can’t. What can he say? His husband has just accused him of basically hating him and it hurts so much that he’s lost for words.

His phone rings. Arthit fumbles it from his pocket as Kongpob frowns at him from across the living room. It’s Knott.

Arthit could cry in gratitude.

He slinks from the room, not even excusing himself, feeling like the coward he knows he is.

It’s late when Arthit feels safe to leave the spare bedroom. He sneaks out, trying not to make a sound and picks his way to their kitchen.

Inside, he checks carefully that Kongpob is not hiding around the corner, and then reaches for the fridge, tugging it open and grabbing a bottle of pink milk from inside. He knows he should make something - instant noodles perhaps - but his stomach is turning at the thought of food, so instead, sugary milk will have to suffice.

He reaches out to open the kitchen door, but tugs it almost closed immediately.

Kongpob is in the corridor - and he is talking loudly on the phone.

“...I just don’t get it, I thought I remembered something but it can’t possibly be true..” There's a long pause where Kongpob is obviously listening to whomever is on the end of the phone (and if Arthit could bet, he’d say it’s Kong’s mother) “...no, no.. nothing like that, just.. well it’ll sound stupid… Mother,” (Arthit mentally slaps himself on the back,) “... did I ever tell you that I like men?”

Arthit rests his forehead on the cool wood and tries not to hyperventilate. This is the second time he’s overheard this conversation - although the first time around it had been in person and he had been trapped in the tiny bathroom of Kongpob’s dorm room. Also, it had been wholly awkward since Mrs Suthiluck had insisted on meeting him as soon as Kongpob had finished telling her about their almost three year relationship. Yes, it had been.. yeah, awkward was the word Arthit would always choose.

Awkward but.. kind of lovely too since she had accepted them straight away and had patted Arthit’s cheek and told him that he looked like a sensible and hard-working young man and that she could tell he was right for her boy.

This time.. knowing the truth of their situation, it’s just awkward.

He tries not to overthink it, tries not to imagine scenarios in his head where Kongpob suddenly remembers and comes to find him and they have a joyful reunion that includes kissing.. lots and lots of kissing. Arthit really misses kissing his husband. He’s just so good at it..

Arthit’s sort of losing himself in thoughts of kissing Kong (and many of the different kisses they’ve shared, starting right back at that first kiss slightly awkward one on the bridge), when Kongpob raises his voice a little more and it makes Arthit wonder.

Does Kongpob want him to wake up and overhear what he’s saying?

“..Because I do, mother, I do like men! I like men.. and I think.. Look, please, I feel like I’m going insane! Have I ever told you that I like.. well, that I like P’Arthit?”

There’s a whooshing noise in Arthit’s ears and simultaneously he feels like all his Christmases have come at once, or like he’s won the lottery or he’s been promoted again at work! It’s the most incredible feeling and it takes him back to that first time, that first confession, lying in the dark with Kongpob whispering those words to him.

He wants to go to him, desperately. He wants to put down the pink milk that has started sweating in his hand, open this wooden door the whole way and march out and into the corridor, wants to gather his husband into his arms and hold him and kiss him and tell him what he means to him.

Arthit wants to do that. He wants to do all of that.. but he won’t.

He can’t.

Instead, he leans against cool wood and lets the tears trickle in icy trails down his cheeks and hears the moment that his heart breaks all over again. And he knows that this is probably similar to the way that Kongpob had felt when Arthit had denied him on the phone all those years ago.

And that hurts even more. Because, unlike then.. this time he can’t fix it unless Kongpob helps him by remembering.

It’s three days before Arthit can stay in the room with Kongpob for longer than five minutes. It’s been three days of stilted conversation and both of them avoiding the elephant in the room - Kongpob’s question still lingering in the air, the things Arthit overheard stuck on a loop in his head. (“I like men. I like P’Arthit!”)

He’s distracted himself, spending time with Knott and his other friends and trying not to talk about Kongpob with them all the time. Meanwhile, Kongpob has been noticeably absent as though he’s trying to distance himself from the housemate he doesn’t understand (and is attracted to) as well.

It’s painful and it feels like Arthit’s going to slowly drive himself mad if he doesn’t confront something soon. So, on the third day, he makes sure to arrive home on time; checks in with Mrs Suthiluck to see if she knows if Kongpob will be at home; buys supplies for a nice meal and comes home with the determination that he will spend a night in the company of his husband without running away.

Of course, the best laid plans are usually the ones that end up being a disaster.

The first part goes fine. He buys the ingredients to make a meal he has often cooked for his husband. Something pretty bland of spice, yet still full of flavour, something they can both adapt to their taste buds and something that Kongpob has learned to enjoy cooking alongside Arthit.

It’s as he slices galangal into thin slivers that Arthit feels a wave of distress rush through him. Perhaps this meal was a bad idea?

So far it’s only serving as a reminder of the good times between them and now it’s going to be tainted by this horrible thing that has happened, this thing that is so life-altering (maybe forever) that Arthit doesn’t know if he can cope.

He’s still paused, knife hovering over the vegetables on the chopping board, when the front door slams and Kongpob bursts into the kitchen.

“Look,” he says firmly, folding his arms and staring at him with an expression that Arthit knows well. The one he knows means that Kongpob has made a decision and they’re getting a new kitten or running away on a second honeymoon or Kongpob’s going to make a wild proposal and change Arthit’s life forever!

Arthit stares at his husband and waits for it.

“I kind of don’t care that you’re with P’Knott! Really, I’m not interested in becoming a home wrecker, but I don’t! I don’t care that you don’t like me back, and don’t say you do like me, because your dislike is so utterly clear from your actions.. because.. It’s just.. P’Arthit, I need you to know that I like men. And somehow, I’m utterly ‘in like’ with you! I don’t know how or when or why it happened but I feel like I’ve known you my whole life, like you are the reason I exist and I can’t cope anymore! I can’t bear to think that we exist in the same space together and I can’t have you, can’t be with you! I hate it so much.”

Arthit is frozen, knife dangling from his hand, head turned to Kongpob who is flushed now and looks like he’s run a marathon.

For a second there is silence in the kitchen as they stare at each other. Kongpob looks stricken as though he’s just fully realised what he’s said.

Arthit flicks through the many possible ways he could respond, decides on one and has just opened his mouth to tell Kongpob that actually, he’s ‘in like’ with him too, when their door bangs open for a second time and Kongpob’s mother shouts his name.

Kongpob gives Arthit a look that he really can’t decipher and turns on his heel to meet his mother in the hall. And Arthit sags back against the worktop, the knife falling with a clang to the floor as he loses his grip.

Kongpob stays with his mother for three days and Arthit spends all of them wallowing in memories.

He doesn’t go to work, he barely eats or sleeps. Instead, he just remembers Kongpob’s face as he had yelled at him in their kitchen and the way he’d said he didn’t care if Arthit was with someone else, he just liked him.

It’s hard to know what to do. Arthit shares a hurried phone call with Kong’s mother who tells him that she thinks he’s remembering and that she thinks it’s okay and it’s going to get better. But it’s hard to imagine that when Kongpob has left him alone and has some kind of twisted view of things that means he thinks that Arthit is in a relationship with Knott of all things!

When Kong’s mother calls to say he’s headed back to their house, Arthit calls for Knott and begs him to come round to help him out.

He does, and they are seated together on the couch when Kongpob meekly steps into the living room and offers Arthit a soft little apologetic smile that cuts him to his heart.

“I’m not with Knott.” Arthit says as he stands to greet him, “I’ve never been with Knott. It would be extremely weird since he’s my closest friend besides you.”

Kongpob sinks onto the opposite couch at his words and then looks between them as Knott nods fiercely beside him. “Seriously, Nong Kongpob, we’re definitely not together. Me and this guy?” He waves a hand at Arthit and grins, “No chance! We’d kill each other! Actually,” he shows Kongpob his wedding ring, “I’m married to a lovely young lady named Tob and..” he looks over at Arthit who nods, “we have three children, two of whom you and Arthit looked after for two weeks while we were in hospital with the third.”

Kongpob stares at him, horror draining his face white, “I looked after your children? I mean.. we did?” He limply gestures between himself and Arthit, who nods again.

Gently he says, “Yes, Kongpob. Knott and I have been best friends since university and you’ve known him almost as long. We don’t have children of our own, unless you count Pluffin, so we offered to help.”

Kongpob frowns as though he’s trying to remember this important moment and then whispers, “Lisa and.. err.. Bounty?”

“Bounda,” Knott corrects gently and smiles. “You and Arthit were amazing with them and it meant Tob and I could concentrate on baby Lek when he needed us the most.”

Arthit smiles, warm and true, “And you were the best at nappies Kong..”

“I changed nappies?” Kongpob points at himself and then looks down at his hands and repeats it in wonder, as though affirming that he did indeed do that, “I changed nappies.”

He grins at Knott, “So you’re not..” he waggles a finger between them and Knott snorts.

“Seriously, Kongpob, we’re not!”

“Then how come..”

“The phone calls? And me being here a lot?”

Kongpob nods and looks over at Arthit for a moment, expression softer than before.

“I’m his best friend and he’s had a really hard time recently with your accident and everything so of course I’m here. I promised I’d look after him.”

Kongpob frowns again, “Who usually looks after him?”

There’s silence in the room and it quickly becomes thick and unbearable and Arthit feels a familiar sickening in his stomach and worries he might need to throw up again, like before. But he doesn’t. It passes over him as he takes cool breaths and looks at Knott.

Knott shakes his head, “I suppose.. you’re his roommate.. so..”

“Oh!” Kongpob flushes a little and Arthit can’t help but wonder what exactly is going on his husband’s head and he just wants to blurt it out, ‘We’re married and you banged your head and you forgot!’ But he doesn’t, because the doctor had said that would be a terrible idea although Arthit thinks that this - this sort of half his Kongpob, half-not, is probably much worse, for them both.

“Would you please excuse me?” Kongpob asks suddenly and Knott inclines his head and Arthit can’t move or speak and then his husband vanishes into what used to be their shared bedroom and Arthit turns to Knott.

Knott, who opens his arms and lets Arthit crawl into them and holds him like he’s one of his children. “It’ll be okay,” he whispers into Arthit’s hair, but Arthit doesn’t reply because he’s trying too hard to hold back his tears.

The next day, Kongpob avoids him.

The day after that, he follows Arthit around like he’s a lost puppy who just wants to be petted and cared for. Kongpob spends the whole day asking him questions that Arthit can only sort of answer with half-truths, like:

“When did we move in together?”

“Seven years ago” (When Kongpob had proposed as a surprise on a trip to Phuket and Arthit had been so shocked he had accepted him without thinking it through at all. And then it had turned out that Kongpob had already put down a deposit on this apartment because he could imagine exactly where all of Arthit’s things would go and he had already found the perfect bed and it would fit in this bedroom unlike all the other places he’d seen. Sure, Arthit had told him off for it, but he did love this place and he was grateful in the end that his husband was so forward thinking - plus the bed is incredibly comfortable and he definitely enjoys sharing it with Kongpob!)

“Why do we live together?”

“Because.. we were both looking for a place near to where we work and this was a good compromise.” (Sort of true because Kongpob had chosen it as a good middle ground between their offices. But not even half the truth really, since the reality was that they were madly in love and wanted to spend every free second in each other’s company, and Arthit still does, he just hopes that Kong remembers that soon.)

“How come I have the bigger bedroom?”

“Umm.. we tossed a coin, you won.” (Actually, that was why Kongpob got the side of the bed nearest to the window when they had fought over it. The reason he has the bigger bedroom now is of course because of the heartbreaking thing that has happened to their relationship and which Arthit has to pause and take a deep breath everytime he remembers.)

“Do you like living with me?”

“Yes.” (I love it! He wants to scream at his husband. I love coming home to you, well except for the time that I found you in a pool of your own blood and I freaked out and screamed and couldn’t calm down or get warm for hours after the ambulance took you away.)

He steps away from Kongpob after that question and pleads the need for a glass of water, heading for the kitchen to take several long, deep breaths and calling Knott briefly so that he can calm down while looking at baby Lek who can always make him smile.

When Kongpob comes in and finds him leaning over the sink, cooing to the baby, he quirks an eyebrow and then leans in, their shoulders brushing in a tantalising wash of sparks, and begins to chatter to the baby too.

Kongpob doesn’t ask any more questions until they have both eaten dinner and are lying on opposite couches with some inane TV show playing for background noise.

“Arthit?”

“Yes?” Arthit doesn’t lift his head, lets it sink instead into the pillowy softness of the cushion behind him and takes comfort in it as he waits for Kongpob to speak again.

“Do you like me?”

Arthit stays still and tries to stop the first few thoughts bursting from his throat. The ‘Like you? I love you’ is clamouring to be heard and he has to squash it back behind his teeth and make a strangled noise instead.

The wait must be too long for Kongpob, because he fills in the gap with, “Well, I like you.” And it snaps Arthit out of his head and back into the room.

“Of course I like you,” he says and tries his best to smile in a winning way. But Kongpob seems like he’s not convinced. So he continues, “We have Pluffin together, don’t we?” And indicates the cat who is stretched out on the cool tiles of the fireplace, purring.

Kongpob glances from Pluffin and back to Arthit and gives him a look that is strained as he asks, “It’s just.. I’ve been feeling.. well, some things and I wanted to.. I mean I..”

Arthit’s heart quickens in his chest and he feels a flood of anticipation in his stomach as he wonders if this is it? Does Kongpob actually remember? Does he actually recall that they’re married? Is he getting his memories back?

“Yes?” He asks as adrenaline floods his veins.

Kongpob stands and heads towards him and Arthit finds that he can’t move. He’s frozen, head sunk into the pillow, legs stretched out on the couch. His husband bends down, kneeling at the side of the couch and reaches a shaking hand forward to touch his fringe.

“Why do I feel this way P’Arthit?” He asks, voice firmer now as his eyes lock onto Arthit’s and his head inches closer.

Arthit doesn’t know what to do. Everything he and Kongpob’s Mae talked about, they never reached a scenario where Kongpob wants him but he doesn’t remember who they are to each other. It didn’t cross their minds.

Arthit shrinks a little on the couch, not certain what the best thing to do is. He knows what he wants to do, what he dreams about doing, which is to tell Kongpob everything and then kiss him until they are both unable to speak. But he knows it’s the last thing the doctors want him to do. So he just widens his eyes and looks up at his husband.

“Feel?” He asks.

Kongpob’s fingers move from touching his fringe to stroking his hand down the side of Arthit’s cheek, fingertips running over the line of his jaw and focussing on his scar repeatedly.

“I feel like… I’m too big for my skin.” He whispers into the space between them, his breath dancing over Arthit’s lips and causing him to shiver slightly, “I feel like I know you. Like I know you in a way that’s different from just my roommate. But I don’t know what it is.”

Arthit’s whole body twitches and he leans into Kongpob’s touch, “You know me,” he says simply.

Kongpob’s face inches ever closer, his eyelids flickering shut for a moment as his hand cups Arthit’s jaw. Arthit loves watching him like this, so soft and gentle and sweet. It was always the same, right before he kissed him, Kongpob would lower his eyelids and his face would take on a look of utter bliss.

Just like now.

Arthit purses his lips slightly, ready for his husband’s mouth to brush against his for the first time in six weeks. He’s ready for it, so ready.

“I know you,” Kongpob whispers and the very tips of their lips touch, causing Arthit’s whole body to shiver again, “But..” Arthit tries to lean in, but Kongpob is already sliding his hand away from his face and moving back to make space between them, “I don’t know you.”

Arthit gasps, a sob caught in his throat that wants to escape as his eyes close. But he can’t let it go now, he can’t.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” Arthit opens his eyes to see Kongpob is too far away and he wants to reach for him and tug him back in.

“You didn’t,” he whispers as he lifts himself up to his feet. He finds himself walking towards Kongpob without deciding to and when he reaches him, he holds out a hand, hovering over Kongpob’s shoulder but not touching - not yet. “You know me, Kongpob. Please, please think!”

Kongpob scrunches up his nose in the cute way that Arthit loves and he feels like he can actually see his husband’s thoughts running through his head.

“I don’t remember.” He says and takes a step away.

“You do,” Arthit brings his hand down to grab Kong’s shoulder, the first time they’ve really touched in what feels like forever, and pulls him in, “You know me! Please Kongpob, please think!”

Kongpob gives him a desperate look, pained and hopeful, “Tell me, please, please P’Arthit! Tell me!”

Arthit squeezes his shoulder, “I can’t.. you have to.. you have to remember, please Kongpob? Please, for me?”

The kiss, when it comes, is fierce and heartfelt and harsh. It’s like Arthit can feel the desperation in Kongpob as their lips press together and their tongues merge in his mouth. He feels as though he’s floating on air, it’s so good to kiss him and he reaches out to drag Kongpob in closer, moaning into his mouth.

The intensity doesn’t lessen as Kongpob’s hands reach up to frame his face and they kiss each other hungrily, Arthit turning them to push Kongpob down onto the couch and then straddling his waist, resting his weight over his lap.

They pant into each other’s mouths and it’s wet and messy and Arthit feels like his heart is trying to leap out of his chest. Kongpob drags his lips away and looks at Arthit, his mouth slack, his eyes wide and his hair in wild tufts around his crown, then without a word, he bends and sucks a line of kisses across Arthit’s jaw and down his neck into the crease of his collarbone where he stays and suckles at the skin as Arthit rocks his hips against him.

Arthit grips Kongpob’s waist with his hands and pulls him against his groin, trying to angle him for the best friction. His cock jerks in his pants and Kongpob’s twitches in answer, pulsing hard against him. It feels so good that he opens his mouth and groans loudly and Kongpob lifts his head and looks up at him and freezes.

Arthit stops too, closing his mouth and stilling his hips. He looks down at Kongpob whose eyes have widened and whose mouth is hanging open, “Do we usually do this?” He asks and Arthit feels his erection wilt at the confusion in his voice. What is he doing?

He ducks his head into the crook of Kongpob’s neck and his voice comes out muffled, “What do you think?”

Kongpob slides a finger under his chin and tilts his head up, “I think.. maybe we do?”

Arthit feels a smile start at the corner of his mouth and he nods slowly, “Yeah, we do.”

Kongpob exhales hard and gives him a tiny, distracted smile back, “Seriously? We do? I wasn’t getting confused about that part? Because I was so worried I was feeling all these things for you and it wasn’t possible - that it wasn’t real. Is it real Arthit? Are we a thing?”

Arthit’s smile widens even as he tries to stop it, “Yes, we are.” He wants to say so much more, but he feels like Kongpob is getting it now, like maybe his memories are starting to return all on their own and he doesn’t want to rush him through it or overwhelm him.

“And you didn’t think to tell me? You didn’t think that perhaps I might want.. no.. need to know?” Kongpob asks, his smile dimming into nothing as he slides Arthit backwards over his thighs and pushes him away so he has to stand up and move back.

Arthit wants to grab Kongpob in his arms and tell him he loves him and that he wants to do nothing but hold him and kiss him and tell him everything, but he doesn’t dare.

There’s a look on his face as though he’s a wild animal who’s been cornered and could pounce at any time, and Arthit knows what a Kongpob tantrum is like - scary and dangerous - and he would rather wait and give him space and speak to him when Kong can be a little bit more rational about it.

“I..” Arthit isn’t certain what Kongpob wants to hear, so he stops and just looks at him as he stands and starts to pace. “I didn’t..”

Kongpob raises a hand, one finger extended, “Wait.” He commands. Then he slides his phone from his pocket and brings it to his ear, “Mother?”

Arthit listens as Kongpob speaks, not waiting for his mother to reply and his eyes on Arthit the whole time.

“Mother, I’m with Arthit and I know now. I understand. Why didn’t you tell me anything? Why didn’t anyone think I’d want to know? I don’t understand…” His eyes are flashing fiercely and Arthit strains to hear the reply.

When Kongpob goes slack jawed and his eyes darken and start to burn, he knows whatever it is must be bad for him.

“My what?!” Kongpob yells and gives Arthit a look that sends chills up his spine and he knows that Kongpob knows what he is to him now. “Actually mother, that part I wasn’t really aware of, but thanks. I have to go,” he stares Arthit down, “I need to speak to my ‘husband’ alone.”

Arthit drops his eyes down and tries to make himself small under Kongpob’s glare as he hangs up the phone and stalks towards him, “Husband?” He hisses.

Arthit lifts his chin and says meekly, “Umm.. yes.”

“And you didn’t tell me, why? I thought I was going insane, feeling things for you that were forbidden or something, thinking that I had this huge secret and I couldn’t tell you. I felt awful, Arthit! I was going to move out because I thought my feelings were so inappropriate! Did you know that? Did you?” His voice reaches a high squeak with his anger and Arthit wants to apologise and gather him to his chest and rock him in his arms and tell him he loves him until Kongpob calms down.

Instead, he leans in and tries to reach out for him, which he know is a bad idea when Kongpob is this riled up.

“You let me think we were just flatmates! Why? Don’t you like me anymore? Was my accident a blessing in disguise for you, a chance to get rid of me? Do you actually even like me? Love me? Or were you lying to me?” Kongpob starts to pace up and down and Arthit finds that his legs give in as he tries to protest and it falls on deaf ears.

Kongpob seems determined to believe whatever he’s telling himself and Arthit is aware that it doesn’t sound good, since he did let Kongpob believe they were just flatmates and evaded all his questions, even if he was just following doctor’s orders and trying to protect Kongpob from his injury.

Kongpob has paced to the bookshelf by the corner now and he turns to look at Arthit from across the room, “Were you even going to tell me?” He asks, sadly, and then reaches behind him for a book, which turns out to be one of their photo books that Arthit must have forgotten in his haste to clear the house of intimate memories.

“I found this the other day and I was so confused! Why would I have such intimate and comfortable photos with my flatmate - a guy who doesn’t even seem to like being around me? You let me feel that way, P’Arthit! And now, now I find out that we’re married and you still let me feel like that? It was bad enough when I just thought you were supposed to be my friend. My friend who I have intimate feelings for!”

Arthit tries to protest again, tries to apologise, but he can see that through the haze of anger, Kongpob isn’t going to listen. And he’s right, when his husband suddenly seems to up the level of his anger, throwing the book of memories onto the coffee table and then reaching behind him for another book, “Are these books mine? Did we choose them together? Did you choose this bookshelf or did I? Why can’t I remember? I don’t even know when we got married or who proposed or anything and you were going to let me forget it all!”

He throws the next book and it lands on the floor, spine up and pages splayed out below it. “How long have we been fucking , Arthit? How long have we even been together?” He yells the words and they feel like they’re piercing Arthit’s heart.

“Five years,” he says, trying to stay calm, “and almost six years before that.”

Kongpob’s face is a picture of fury as he swings around and grabs another book, throwing it so that it narrowly misses the coffee table. Pluffin jumps at the noise of it hitting the ground and leaps to his feet, streaking from the room. “Eleven years!” Kongpob roars, “You let me forget eleven fucking years!”

He grabs another book and chucks it across the space, “Well, you clearly don’t trust me do you? Or love me enough?!”

Arthit feels his whole face crumple and tears start to stream down his cheeks as he watches his husband who he does love fiercely and with all his heart.

“I want a divorce!” Kongpob screams, throwing another book across the room.

Arthit ducks out of the way and holds up his hands, scrubbing at the wetness and trying to calm his errant husband. “Kongpob, will you calm the fuck down? That’s almost half the library you’ve hurled at me, surely you can’t be that angry?”

Kongpob stares at him, darkness in his eyes, “Angry?” He says, voice full of contempt, “You think I’m just angry?! Tell me, P’Arthit. If I’m just angry now, then what do you call this?”

And then he grabs the whole bookshelf and drags it from the wall, books and wood and plaster ferociously crashing down between them, barely missing Arthit!

As he does, something falls from the top shelf, a book of poetry Arthit finds out later, and hits Kongpob square on his forehead and he goes down, landing face down on a pile of debris.

Arthit feels like he’s in a twilight zone as he stares at the scene before him. This is the second time he’s seen his husband lying floppy on the floor and he can’t fight the sharp, stabbing distress that rushes through him as he darts over to Kongpob. His fingers run over his head and his face as he calls for him to wake up, “Kongpob? Kongpob darling, please? Wake up, my love, please?”

He scrambles madly for the phone in his pocket and calls for an ambulance as he kneels by his side, trying to rouse him.

Suddenly, Kongpob’s lips twist into a dopey smile and his eyes open and he stares up at Arthit, “P’Arthit?” He asks, voice lazy, “My love? My husband? Is that you?”

Arthit bends and presses a kiss to his mouth, “It’s me,” he whispers, “and you’re going to be okay!”

“I will, because I remember,” Kongpob agrees, reaching up a shaking hand to pull Arthit down to him and kissing him hungrily, “I’ve got you to look after me, haven’t I?”

Arthit pulls back and reaches up to touch the bump that is rising on Kong’s head, brushing the hair from his face, “I’ll always look after you. But, I really wish you’d stop bumping your beautiful head and I’m sorry I didn’t tell you we were married.”

Kongpob bats at the hand that is touching his hair and then drags it down to hold it in his own, smiling at Arthit, still dopey and a bit bewildered, “Doesn’t matter now.. we can fight about it later on.. the good kind of fight with make-up sex at the end if you like.”

Arthit kisses him as fiercely as he dares, “I’d like that very much,” he says and then goes to open the door to the paramedics who have just arrived.

He’s back on the couch in the same room, watching as the doctor’s check Kongpob’s vital signs, Pluffin held tightly in his arms. “I love you, Kongpob,” he mutters into the wrinkled skin and hears a soft laugh from across the room.

“Love you too, husband!”

“Will you ever really forgive me?” Arthit asks, lifting his head and then standing as the doctor steps back from the bed. He moves over, holding Pluffin in one hand, Kongpob’s hand laced in his other, “Well, Doctor? Is he okay?”

Kongpob laughs and then makes a kissy face at him as the doctor explains that the second bang to the head seems to have brought back all the buried memories and that as far as he is aware, Kongpob is back to normal. In fact, the doctor even grimaces as he says that he feels like he knows rather too much about their marriage now, since Kongpob was trying to prove he could remember it all.

Arthit grins at his husband and his answering smile makes his heart flip-flop in his chest, “Sounds about right, My husband has always been a little bit too good at over-sharing!”

“Oi, P’Arthit!” Then Kong turns to the Doctor and says, “And my husband has always been a little too shy, and too good at following orders, to tell people too much about our relationship.. although in this case, it’s a good job he waited, since apparently I needed that second bump to the head so I could really remember our wedding night and those silk un..”

Arthit presses a hand to his mouth, face turning red as he looks up at the doctor, “Sorry, sorry! I’ll try to shut him up! What exactly do you think a third bump to the head would do?”

“P’Arthit!” Kongpob protests again, licking his hand until Arthit lets him go, “There won’t be a third time!”

Arthit moves until he’s seated by Kongpob’s head, hand in his hair as he lets Puffin roam until he’s laying out, relaxed, on Kong’s chest. “No way,” he insists, “I’m going to wrap you up in cotton wool or bubble wrap or something, or maybe watch you twenty-four seven or get one of those leads that Knott uses on his children!”

Kongpob splutters out a laugh and strokes Pluffin’s wrinkly head, “I don’t think we need to go that far, P’Arthit, although a lead in the bedroom.. that could be kinky!”

It’s Arthit’s turn to blush and splutter and hide his face in Kongpob’s neck, “Shut it,” he whispers and Kongpob slides a hand up to hold him against him, mouth pressing kisses to his skin.

“I have something to return to you,” Arthit suddenly remembers as he pulls back, “here.” Then he opens the jewellery box and pulls out their wedding rings, “Kongpob, please will you wear my ring again?”

Kongpob kisses him deeply, “Yes please, there’s nothing I want more,” then he holds out his hand and Arthit kisses the palm before he slides the silver band back on to it, where it belongs. “I love you, P’Arthit and I don’t want to ever forget that again. If it does, that better be the first thing you tell me, that we love each other no matter what the doctor’s say!”

“I will.. Always. I love you too, Kongpob. But please, no more throwing books!”

Kongpob laughs and agrees and they hug their cat close and kiss and bask in their shared love and Kongpob never throws a book at Arthit again (but he does sometimes throw plates near him when he’s extra mad!)

The End.