Distant Signals: The Definition of Us

Chapter Two

The last time Kongpob woke up in the same bed as Arthit, it was the morning after he'd confessed his feelings, kissed him, and then subsequently watched the other man spiral into a panic attack. He turned to the side and quietly observed the peaceful expression on Arthit's face. Other than acknowledging the events leading up to the panic attack, Arthit never talked about that night or what had frightened him in the first place, even when Kongpob tentatively asked about it.

"I got nervous, that's all," Arthit had replied, immediately putting an end to that line of questioning by switching to a new topic.

Arthit did that a lot, it seemed. Whenever a difficult or serious topic came up in conversation, he immediately dismissed its significance and either redirected the conversation or stopped talking entirely. Like when he asked about his parents:

"They passed away." A pause. "It was a long time ago. No big deal."

Except, it was a big deal. Kongpob didn't know what he'd do without his parents, and he hoped that he wouldn't have to find out for a long, long time. For Arthit to describe his uncle as the person who raised him...When exactly had his parents passed away? It pained him to imagine Arthit growing up with only his uncle and grandfather, whom he had apparently lost during high school. How badly had those losses hurt him? Scarred him in ways that Kongpob couldn't understand?

"You can't die on me!" Arthit had yelled in his ear as he'd pulled him out of the sea, his voice strangled with panic. "Keep breathing!"

Kongpob brushed a stray hair out of Arthit's face, remembering the terror on his senior's face when he thought his unruly junior had almost drowned and the sound of him crying afterward.

But that had been nothing compared to Arthit sobbing beside him, his body shaking violently as he tried to breathe through the panic and fear that gripped him. That night was seared into Kongpob's memory.

"Please don't leave me." Arthit's voice had sounded so broken at that moment, and he had clutched at Kongpob's sleeve as if to keep him from abandoning him. "Please don't go."

"Until you tell me to go, I'll be here," Kongpob whispered to the figure next to him. Arthit smacked his lips together and shifted in his sleep, inching closer to him. Kongpob smiled and placed a light kiss on his forehead.

More than anything, he wanted to be the person Arthit confided in, the person whom he trusted to share his burdens as well as his triumphs, but sometimes it felt like an impenetrable wall surrounded Arthit, and he had no idea how to break it down or get past it.

As a result, they knew shockingly little about each other despite having been boyfriends for weeks—which, to be fair, was partially because they spent most of that time preoccupied by their studies or future plans, like vacations and internships. It was hardly Arthit's fault, and Kongpob knew himself well enough to be able to admit that he wasn't the epitome of a communicative partner either.

Once, after some light teasing had somehow turned into a hot, messy kiss where both of them got a bit handsy and Arthit lost his shirt, Arthit made a passing comment about Kongpob being too skilled for a freshman in college and jokingly asked if he'd dated a lot in high school. Not thinking much of it, Kongpob had simply replied: "Not a lot. There was just one."

The room had grown quiet and Arthit softly asked how long they'd dated, to which Kongpob answered just over a year. Part of him had wrongly expected Arthit to keep asking questions because that's what he would've done, but looking back, Kongpob should have known better. There was an awkward tension in the air that weighed heavy in the silence, but Arthit said nothing else about it. He didn't ask if Kongpob had loved her, or if he'd had sex with her. Instead, he simply hummed to indicate he'd heard him and then directed their attention back to the math problems they'd abandoned in favor of making out.