Chapter 28

Jes kept cooking, pretending like Ngern's words didn't make his pulse jump slightly. He focused on the sizzling pan, stirring the ingredients with more force than necessary.

From his seat, Ngern watched him with an easy smile, chin propped on his hand. "What are we having, anyway?"

Jes scoffed. "You invited yourself to dinner and didn't even ask?"

"You invited me," Ngern shot back smoothly.

Jes shot him a sharp look over his shoulder. "It's just stir-fry with rice. Don't expect a five-star meal."

Ngern hummed. "As long as it's made by you, I'm sure it'll be the best thing I've ever eaten."

Jes froze for half a second before forcing himself to continue plating the food. He took a slow breath, telling himself that Ngern was just saying things, that he was always like this—casual, playful, never serious.

But then he caught the way Ngern was still looking at him when he turned around, and something in his chest tightened.

He swallowed, setting the plates down on the counter. "Eat before it gets cold."

Ngern clapped his hands together in a quick wai. "いただきます (Itadakimasu)," he said, grinning.

Jes blinked. "You've been in Japan for a week and now you're fluent?"

"I pick things up fast," Ngern replied with a wink.

Jes shook his head, grabbing his own spoon. "Just eat, you idiot."

Dinner was easy, comfortable. Jes found himself relaxing despite the fact that Ngern was in his space, in his home. They talked about Ngern's trip, the chaotic filming schedule, and the absurd amount of snacks he had stuffed into his suitcase.

After they finished eating, Ngern stretched lazily and leaned back in his seat. "I should help with the dishes."

Jes shot him a deadpan look. "You'd just break something."

"Rude."

"Accurate."

Ngern laughed, standing up anyway. "I'll at least dry."

Jes sighed, but he didn't argue, handing him a dish towel. As they moved around the small kitchen, their shoulders brushed occasionally, the silence between them settling into something steady and familiar.

At some point, Ngern spoke again, his voice softer this time. "I like it here."

Jes didn't look up. "What, my apartment?"

"Yeah. It feels... like you."

Jes paused for half a second before shaking his head. "You're just saying things again."

Ngern nudged him lightly. "Maybe."

Jes let out a short breath, focusing on the dishes. But his lips twitched just slightly, betraying him.

Ngern saw it. And he stored the moment away, tucked somewhere deep inside him, where all the things he felt for Jes were slowly, steadily growing.

...........................................................

As Jes rinsed the last dish and set it aside for Ngern to dry, the quiet between them felt charged, like something unspoken hovered in the air. Jes refused to acknowledge it, keeping his focus on the water running down the sink.

Ngern, on the other hand, seemed completely at ease. He wiped the plate absentmindedly, eyes flicking toward Jes every now and then, like he was memorizing the way Jes moved in his own space.

"Do you always do everything by yourself?" Ngern asked suddenly.

Jes arched a brow. "What kind of question is that?"

"I mean, you don't seem like the type to ask for help," Ngern said, propping his hip against the counter. "You run the café, do all your photography work, and now you're playing host to a guy who showed up at your place with a suitcase full of snacks."

Jes huffed a laugh. "That was your own choice."

"I don't regret it." Ngern's voice was lighter, but there was something sincere in the way he said it.

Jes turned to face him fully, crossing his arms. "What are you trying to say?"

Ngern held his gaze, tapping the dish towel against the counter before speaking. "That maybe you don't always have to do everything alone."

Jes stiffened slightly, caught off guard by the honesty in Ngern's words. He wanted to scoff, to brush it off, to say that he was fine, that he had always managed just fine. But the way Ngern looked at him—like he saw through all the layers Jes had built—made it harder to deflect.

So instead, Jes exhaled, glancing away. "...I'm used to it."

"I know." Ngern's voice was quiet.

Jes didn't know what to say to that. So he picked up a clean towel and tossed it onto Ngern's face instead.

"Dry faster, you're too slow."

Ngern peeled the towel off, laughing. "Ah, so this is how you deal with feelings, huh?"

Jes rolled his eyes. "What feelings?"

Ngern grinned but didn't push. Instead, he flicked some water at Jes, watching in satisfaction as Jes spluttered in protest.

"Alright, alright, I'm done," Ngern said, holding up his hands in surrender. "You happy?"

Jes narrowed his eyes. "Leave before I make you wash the whole sink again."

Ngern smirked. "Can't. You invited me here, remember?"

Jes opened his mouth to retort but shut it again when he saw the teasing glint in Ngern's eyes. He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "You're unbelievable."

"I've heard worse," Ngern quipped. Then, in a quieter voice, he added, "Thanks for dinner."

Jes hesitated for a beat before replying, just as quietly, "...You're welcome."

For a moment, they just stood there, neither moving to break the moment, neither quite ready to say goodbye.

And then Jes turned away first, grabbing the dish towel from Ngern's hands. "Go sit, I'll get you something to take home."

Ngern watched him for a second longer before nodding, stepping back. "Don't take too long. I might decide to stay the night if you do."

Jes shot him a dry look. "Then I'll take forever."

Ngern laughed, but something about Jes's words, about the way Jes moved around his kitchen with quiet familiarity, made him think that maybe—just maybe—he wouldn't mind staying longer next time.