Distant Signals: The Definition of Us

Chapter One

Somehow, in the few weeks they'd been dating before the start of break, Kongpob had managed to insert himself into every aspect of Arthit's life—from greeting him in the mornings with a smile to joining him during late-night cramming sessions for upcoming exams—Kongpob had become an integral part of it all. Now that he was gone, whisked away to another country with his family over break, his absence left a pervasive, inescapable void in Arthit's day-to-day existence and, worse, in his heart.

It didn't make any sense. They'd hadn't been dating long enough to justify missing Kongpob to this extent, and yet he did, and it made Arthit feel weak, vulnerable, and stupid. A part of him hated himself for it.

And yet, nonetheless, the truth remained that he missed Kongpob—missed his smiles, his caresses, his warmth. He missed the witty, flirtatious comments that left him speechless and red-cheeked, the brief, casual touches that were like electricity against his skin, and, more than anything, he missed the constant, comforting presence of his boyfriend standing beside him.

"P'Arthit, you didn't wake up in time to eat breakfast, did you?" he'd ask when they met outside the engineering building, always holding a bag of Chinese donuts or some other meal Arthit could eat on his way to class. Once, on a day that Arthit overslept longer than usual, he smiled suggestively and asked if he should start sleeping over so that he could wake him up in the mornings. The mere thought of starting the day with Kongpob laying beside him had caused Arthit's heart to flutter and, blushing, he'd said absolutely not and walked a little faster toward his classroom, much to Kongpob's delight and amusement.

Truth be told, Arthit loved the idea of waking up in Kongpob's arms, to his kisses and smiles, but he was too embarrassed to admit it so he kept those thoughts to himself. Besides, even though they'd technically been dating for several weeks, it didn't feel like it at all. This was because finals, internships, and family vacations had swooped in and stolen all their time and energy, causing most of their time spent together to be dedicated to studying or preparing for those activities instead of going on dates and getting to know each other.

Scowling, Arthit downed the last of his beer and poured himself another. His friends were laughing at a joke he hadn't heard, but he didn't care and smiled into his drink anyway as he guzzled it down, wanting to flush out the pressure building in his chest.

He felt stupid. It's not like they hadn't spent plenty of time together before break, so why did it feel like he hadn't seen him in forever?

"Hey, Arthit." Knot sat down next to him. "Don't you think you've had enough?"

He shrugged noncommittally and grabbed the bottle before Knot tried to make the decision for him.

"Is everything okay?"

"It's fine," Arthit replied, pouring himself a glass. "Why?"

"Did something happen at your internship?"

"What could possibly happen on the last day, Knot?" He sighed and drank a few sips, barely tasting the alcohol. "And I'm not drunk. See? I'm completely sober."

Knot raised an eyebrow at him.

"I'm serious. Watch." He stood up, fully intending to prove Knot wrong, but the second he got to his feet, the world started spinning and he swayed to the side before collapsing back onto the bench. Feeling sick, he covered his mouth and breathed in through his nose.

"Okay, I'm cutting you off," said Knot. He reached for the bottle, but Arthit snatched it off the table and held it against his chest. "Arthit—"

"I'm not that drunk, Knot! And I'm not a little kid. I'll decide when I've had too much."