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The afternoon sun poured through the high, arched windows of the Faculty of Architecture studio, casting long shadows across the rows of heavy drafting tables. The air was thick with the scent of freshly cut balsa wood, acrylic glue, and the faint, sweet aroma of milk tea resting at the edge of Por’s desk.
Por adjusted his silver-rimmed glasses, his thumb lightly running over the edge of a scaled acrylic floor plan. As the head student coordinator for the upcoming Senior Design Showcase, every inch of the pavilion layout passed through his hands. He was meticulous, quiet, and kept an unyielding distance between himself and everyone else in the room.
"P'Por."
Por didn't look up from his tablet, though his fingers stilled slightly on the glass screen. He knew that voice—grounded, low, and far too steady for a second-year student.
Tee stood beside the drafting table, holding a black leather folder under his arm. He wore his standard engineering-style dark navy jacket over a plain white shirt, looking relaxed despite the mountain of blueprints surrounding them.
"The structural calculations for the west elevation are finished," Tee said, placing a neat stack of printed sheets on the corner of Por's desk, carefully avoiding the milk tea cup.
"I adjusted the load distribution for the timber frame like you asked."
Por picked up the pages, scanning the figures with a sharp, critical eye. Everything was precise. Spotless, even. It irritated Por slightly that a lowerclassman could deliver such flawless work without needing a single correction.
"Good," Por said softly, his voice cool and measured as he set the papers back down. "I'll review the rest tonight. You can go home, Nong Tee."
Tee didn't move. He leaned slightly against the edge of the wooden table, his dark eyes fixed on Por’s profile—on the subtle way Por bit his lower lip when he was reading, and the delicate pink tint that always seemed to linger at the tips of his ears.
"You've been in this chair since eight this morning, Senior," Tee noted softly, his tone lacking any formal distance despite using the honorific. "And you haven't touched your lunch."
Por straightened his spine, tilting his chin up to look Tee in the eye. "My schedule is my own concern. In this studio, your responsibility ends with delivering the calculations I assign you. I don't need a junior managing my time."
A quiet, almost imperceptible smile touched the corner of Tee’s lips. "Just making sure the Senior Lead doesn't pass out before the showcase. It would reflect poorly on the team."
"I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself," Por replied, turning his attention back to his tablet to signal the end of the conversation. "I prefer working with people who understand boundaries. Mature, older colleagues who don't feel the need to hover."
Tee watched him for a long moment, the subtle tension between them hanging thick in the warm studio air. "Understood, P'Por," Tee said quietly, checking the time on his wrist. “The Faculty Q&A panel starts in twenty minutes down in the main auditorium. I'm going to grab a drink downstairs first—don't be late."
Tee picked up his leather folder and stepped out of the studio. Left alone, Por let out a slow exhale, rubbed his temples, quickly gathered his notes, and headed out through the faculty back stairwell to get backstage before the crowd arrived.
The evening air outside the architecture building was cool, but inside the main auditorium, the atmosphere was stifling.
Tee had stopped by the lobby kiosk for a cold drink before walking down to the venue, taking his seat in the third row between North and Otto just as the auditorium reached full capacity. He sat with his long legs crossed, hands resting loosely in the pockets of his dark navy jacket, his quiet focus pinned entirely on the elevated stage where Por had just taken his place behind the central podium.
In the glow of the warm stage lights, Por looked every bit the pristine, unshakeable Senior Lead. Dressed in his crisp cream linen shirt, his silver-rimmed glasses catching the light as he arranged his notes, he projected an aura of complete control that made the rest of the faculty look chaotic by comparison.
"Look at him," Otto whispered, leaning sideways toward Tee while tapping rapidly on his phone screen. "P'Por really acts like he's on a completely different level from everyone else in this department."
"He just likes keeping up that untouchable senior persona," North snickered softly from Tee's left. "Watch—the second someone asks him anything remotely personal, he's going to turn into an absolute ice sculpture."
Tee didn't say a word. His dark eyes remained fixed on Por, tracing the delicate, controlled movements of the senior's hands on stage.
The panel progressed smoothly through thirty minutes of technical questions about the upcoming showcase, until the student moderator smiled warmly at the stage, shifting to the audience Q&A portion.
"We have a popular question from the live stream chat for our Senior Lead, Por!" the moderator announced cheerfully. "Everyone in the chat wants to know—with your brutal studio schedule and perfectionist work ethic, what kind of person could actually manage to stand by your side and take care of you?"
A light, curious chatter rippled through the auditorium.
On stage, Por offered a polite, practiced smile into the microphone, his posture remaining perfectly rigid.
"Honestly? I've always been very clear about this. I need someone older and completely settled. A mature partner who has their life together and can actually manage a heavy schedule." Por paused, tilting his chin up slightly with that familiar, guarded superiority.
"Certainly not a lowerclassman or a Nong—juniors are fine for basic tasks, but they're far too young to handle real responsibility."
The crowd chuckled in lighthearted agreement. On stage, Por looked satisfied with his answer, setting his microphone down with an air of absolute finality.
In the third row, North nudged Tee's shoulder with a grin. "Ouch. The 'Nong' zone just got broadcast to the entire university, bro."
Tee didn't react outwardly. His expression remained calm, grounded, and unreadable. But beneath his calm exterior, something snapped into sharp focus.
Slowly, deliberately, Tee pulled his phone from his jacket pocket. He unlocked the screen, opened X, navigated to his profile @twnpich, and typed out a single sentence without hesitation:
@twnpich So what if he's younger? Let’s just say I’m better at taking care of you than anyone else
He hit post.
Within ten seconds, the quiet hum of the auditorium was broken by a wave of subtle notification pings rippling through the rows of students like falling dominoes.
North looked down at his screen, read the pop-up notification, and his jaw practically hit the floor. "Holy shit... Tee, tell me you did not just post that live."
On stage, Por’s phone vibrated violently against the wooden desk. Expecting an urgent schedule update from the department head, Por glanced down at the illuminated screen—and froze.
Tee's tweet sat right at the top of his lock screen. And beneath it, the timeline was already erupting as mutual friends quote-tweeted it in real time:
@ppoohkt : Right right, puppies take care of you well they are the cutest 🐶
@Auautnp : Cheering works. So what if they're younger?
@chira_patt : Yeah, so what if he's younger?
A deep, uncontrollable heat flushed straight up Por’s neck, painting his cheeks and the tips of his ears a bright, furious crimson right in front of the live camera. His fingers tightened around his pen until his knuckles turned white.
Slowly, Por raised his head, his wide feline eyes searching the audience until they landed squarely on Tee in the third row.
Tee didn't avert his eyes. He sat comfortably in his seat, holding his phone loosely in his hand, watching Por on stage with a calm, deliberate, and utterly possessive stare.
The panel wrapped up five minutes later under a heavy cloud of unspoken tension. As the crowd began shuffling toward the auditorium exits, chatter buzzed loudly across the rows—half the faculty was already staring at their phones, whispering and glancing back toward Tee.
North leaned over, clapping a hand onto Tee’s shoulder with a mixture of shock and utter delight. "Bro, you realize half the department is tracking this post? P'Por looked like he wanted to vaporize you through the camera lens."
"He asked for mature, didn't he?" Tee replied smoothly, standing up and sliding his phone back into his navy jacket pocket. "I'm just making sure he stays accountable to his own words."
"He told you to meet him in the private studio behind the library," Otto reminded him, showing his screen where Por's frantic, angry messages were still popping up in the group chat. "Are you actually going?"
"Of course," Tee said, taking his time to zip up his bag. "He's waiting."
The corridor behind the main library was always quiet after hours, dimly lit by a single row of warm overhead lights. At the far end of the hallway sat the small, private model-making studio reserved for senior showcase leads—a room equipped with heavy drafting tables, floor-to-ceiling glass panels, and a lockable oak door.
Tee stepped down the silent hallway, his deliberate, heavy footsteps echoing against the linoleum. Through the frosted glass panel, he could see Por’s silhouette pacing back and forth inside.
Tee turned the brass handle and pushed the door open.
Por spun around instantly. His silver-rimmed glasses were pushed up onto his head, resting in his dark, slightly disheveled hair. His cream linen shirt was unbuttoned at the collar now, revealing the stark red flush that still painted his throat and collarbones.
"Close the door," Por snapped, his voice sharp but tight with undisguised agitation.
Tee stepped inside, reaching behind himself to click the heavy door shut, but he didn't turn the lock—not yet. He leaned his back against the wooden frame, resting his hands casually in his pockets as he took in the sight of his senior.
"P'Por," Tee acknowledged quietly. "You called?"
"Are you completely out of your mind?!" Por marched across the small room, stopping just two feet in front of Tee. He held up his phone, the glowing screen showing Tee's quote-tweet along with hundreds of notifications pouring in. "What is this, Tee?! The Dean was literally watching the stream! The whole faculty group chat is in shambles!"
Tee didn't flinch. He stood his ground, his gaze calm, heavy, and completely unwavering as he looked down at Por.
"I heard what you said on stage," Tee said softly, his voice dropping an octave. "You told two hundred people you only want an older man who can handle you."
"Because I do!" Por argued, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he tried to maintain his authoritative, senior stance. "I need someone who understands boundaries! Someone who doesn't post unhinged comments on social media in the middle of an official presentation! You are a second-year student, Nong Tee. You are supposed to respect the hierarchy!"
"Hierarchy?" Tee repeated the word slowly, taking one deliberate step forward.
The slight gap between them evaporated. Por instinctively took a half-step back until the edge of a heavy drafting table pressed against his lower back, trapping him.
Tee leaned in just enough for Por to catch the faint, steady warmth of his breath.
"You keep hiding behind that word," Tee whispered, his eyes narrowing slightly as he locked onto Por’s gaze. "You call me Nong every time you want to put up a wall between us. But when you stay up until three in the morning struggling with structural calculations, who stays in the studio with you?"
Por’s breath hitched in his throat. He opened his mouth to snap back, but no sound came out.
"Who brings you your coffee without you even asking?" Tee continued softly, his voice dangerously smooth. "Who handles your load distributions so you don't burn out?"
Por’s cheeks burned hotter, his heart hammering wildly against his ribs.
He gripped the edge of the drafting table behind him, trying desperately to keep his voice steady. "That's—that's just associate work. That doesn't mean—"
"So what if I'm younger, P'Por?" Tee cut in quietly, echoing his own post word-for-word. He didn't touch Por, but his physical presence completely enveloped the space between them. "Tell me right now. Who takes better care of you than me?"
Por’s lips parted, his breath catching in his throat as the heavy silence of the private studio settled between them. The question hung in the air like a physical weight—direct, unyielding, and completely stripping away the comfortable distance Por always relied on.
He looked up into Tee’s dark eyes, searching for any sign of hesitation or playfulness, but found only steady, unwavering intent. Tee hadn't laid a single finger on him, yet Por felt entirely trapped against the drafting desk, his heart hammering against his ribs in a chaotic rhythm he couldn't control.
"You..." Por swallowed hard, trying to summon the sharp, icy tone he used during studio reviews. "You're crossing a line, Tee."
"I haven't even touched you, P'Por," Tee replied softly, leaning down just half an inch closer, his deep voice vibrating right at the shell of Por's ear. "If this is crossing the line, what are you going to do when I actually start taking care of you?"
Before Por could process the heat rushing straight to his face, the heavy brass door handle suddenly jiggled.
The door clicked open, and Zee stepped into the room holding a stack of showcase evaluation forms, with Nunew right behind him carrying two iced cups from the faculty lounge.
"Por, the Dean wants the signed roster for—" Zee stopped mid-sentence, his eyes darting between Tee standing mere inches from Por and Por pinned back against the drafting table with a face as red as a sunset.
Nunew blinked, taking a slow sip of his drink as his eyes widened. "Oh. Are we... interrupting something?"
Por instantly pushed himself upright, his elbow knocking against a plastic ruler that clattered loudly across the floor floorboards. He smoothed down his cream shirt with frantic, trembling hands, clearing his throat awkwardly. "P'Zee! No, nothing—we were just... Tee was just handing in the structural revisions."
Zee looked down at Tee, then back at Por’s crimson ears, a small, knowing smirk playing at the corner of his lips. He didn't call them out, but he slowly tapped his pen against the clipboard. "Right. Revisions. Well, keep the 'revisions' professional, you two. The whole faculty is already buzzing about some post on X, and I'd prefer not to handle department drama before the showcase models are locked in."
"It's handled, P'Zee," Tee said calmly. He didn't look flustered at all. He turned smoothly, picked up the dropped ruler from the floor, and placed it back on the desk right next to Por's trembling hand.
"I'll be in the main studio finalizing the scale models for tonight, Senior Lead," Tee added softly, looking Por dead in the eye with a gaze that promised this conversation was far from over. "Don't stay up too late. You know you get sloppy with calculations when you're tired."
Without another word, Tee nodded politely to Zee and Nunew and strolled out into the hallway, leaving behind a thick, electric atmosphere that made it almost impossible for Por to catch his breath.
Zee shook his head with a quiet laugh, setting the forms on the table. "Older guys, huh, Por? Good luck with that one."
Por slammed his hands over his hot face, sinking back against the table as his phone buzzed in his pocket with yet another notification from Tee.
By eleven at night, the main architecture studio was completely deserted.
The heavy, hum of the floor-standing fans was the only sound echoing through the cavernous room, cutting through the stillness left behind after the rest of the showcase team packed up and went home. Rows of drafting tables sat littered with discarded trace paper, plastic rulers, and dried glue bottles.
At the far end of the room, under the warm glow of a single brass desk lamp, Por sat hunched over the massive 1:50 acrylic scale model of the central pavilion.
He had taken off his glasses, rubbing the bridge of his nose with tired fingers. His cream shirt was rumpled now, sleeves rolled all the way up his forearms, revealing delicate wrists and pale skin. He was exhausted. The endless stream of group chat pings, the faculty teasing, and the absolute humiliation of the live-streamed panel had drained every bit of his energy—yet he refused to leave until the pavilion base was locked in.
He picked up an exacto knife, carefully scoring a thin sheet of balsa wood. His hand twitched slightly from tiredness, the blade slipping a millimeter off the pencil guide line.
"Dammit," Por muttered under his breath, tossing the knife onto the cutting mat with an irritated sigh.
"I told you that you get sloppy when you're tired, P'Por."
Por flinched, his head snapping up.
Tee stood at the edge of the warm lamp light, holding two large paper cups from the late-night cafe downstairs. He had taken off his navy jacket, leaving him in just a dark fitted t-shirt that showed off the broad line of his shoulders.
"What are you still doing here?" Por demanded, his voice raspy from lack of water as he quickly reached for his glasses, shoving them back onto his face. "I thought you went back to the dorm with North and Otto an hour ago."
"I told them to go ahead," Tee said smoothly, walking over to the drafting desk with slow, unhurried steps. He set one of the cups right in front of Por—an iced sweet tea with extra condensed milk, prepared exactly the way Por liked it when he stayed up late. "Someone had to make sure you didn't accidentally cut your fingers off."
Por looked down at the cup, his throat tightening. He wanted to refuse it. He wanted to pull rank, put on his strict Senior Lead voice, and tell Tee to leave. But the cold condensation dripping down the plastic glass and the sheer exhaustion weighing down his limbs made him hesitate.
"I didn't ask for tea," Por mumbled, though his fingers reached out and wrapped around the cold plastic anyway.
"You didn't have to," Tee replied, stepping around the side of the table until he was standing right beside Por’s chair. He leaned over slightly, his arm brushing against the back of Por's seat as he looked down at the ruined piece of balsa wood on the mat. "Move over, Senior. Let me do the cutting before you ruin the whole east wing."
Por bristled, pulling his chair an inch away to put distance between them. "I don't need you taking over my cut sheets, Tee. It's eleven-thirty at night. You should be back at your dorm, not—"
"Drink your tea, P'Por," Tee interrupted gently, his tone soft but leaving zero room for argument.
Before Por could protest further, Tee reached down, grabbed the exacto knife, and pulled a fresh sheet of balsa wood onto the cutting mat. He pulled up an adjustable wooden stool, dragging it so close to Por's side that their thighs brushed together under the edge of the drafting table.
Por froze, the cold cup halfway to his lips. The sharp contrast of Tee's warm body against his own made a sudden, nervous shiver run down his spine. He took a long sip of the sweet tea, the sugar instantly cutting through his exhaustion, but his eyes remained hyper-fixated on Tee's hands.
Tee’s fingers were large, steady, and calloused from hours of handling physical materials. He held the metal ruler with absolute precision, lining up the edge of the blade along the penciled grid.
"You're slumping," Tee murmured, not even looking up as he made a clean, effortless slice through the wood.
"What?" Por blinked, flustered.
"Your posture," Tee said softly. Without warning, Tee set the knife down, reached out, and placed his palm flat against the small of Por's back.
A sharp, electric shock ran up Por's spine. The heat of Tee’s palm burned right through the thin linen of his cream shirt, firm and grounding. Tee applied just enough pressure to guide Por to sit up straight, his thumb making a tiny, deliberate arc against Por's spine before resting there.
Por’s breath hitched, his entire body going rigid.
"Tee—"
"You're going to wreck your neck if you keep hunching over like that," Tee reasoned smoothly, his dark eyes finally turning to meet Por's embarrassed, wide-eyed stare. Tee didn't remove his hand from Por's back. In fact, he casually leaned in a little closer, his broad shoulders blocking out the rest of the dark, empty studio. "Is the Senior Lead going to scold me for taking care of his spine now, too?"
"You... you're doing this on purpose," Por whispered, his heart hammering violently against his ribs. His fingers tightened around his tea cup until the plastic creaked. "You're taking advantage of the fact that no one else is here."
"Maybe I am," Tee admitted without a shred of hesitation, a slow, quiet smirk playing on his lips. He leaned down slightly, his gaze dropping to the way Por's bottom lip was caught between his teeth. "Or maybe I'm just showing you what it looks like when someone actually looks after you."
Por felt the breath leave his lungs completely. The studio around them felt impossibly small, reduced to the warm yellow circle of the desk lamp and the overwhelming presence of the second-year associate sitting mere inches away.
"Tee," Por managed to breathe out, his voice far less steady than he wanted it to be. "Take your hand off me."
Instead of pulling away, Tee's thumb stroked lightly over the thin linen covering Por's lower back—a slow, agonizingly deliberate drag that sent a shudder straight down Por's thighs.
"Make me," Tee whispered softly, his deep voice carrying a quiet, dangerous weight.
Por’s feline eyes widened. His senior authority, his sharp tongue, his pristine composure—all of it was crumbling under the sheer, unbothered confidence Tee exuded. He tried to push himself backward against the stool, but Tee shifted his weight, trapping Por firmly between the edge of the drafting table and his own broad frame.
Tee raised his free hand, his long, warm fingers reaching up to lightly brush a stray lock of dark hair away from Por's eyes. His knuckles grazed Por’s cheekbone, resting right where the deep red flush had taken over.
"You talk so much about wanting someone older," Tee said, his voice dropping into an intimate, hushed murmur that made the quiet room vibrate. "Someone mature. Someone who has everything settled. But every time I touch you like this... you're the one who completely forgets how to breathe, P'Por."
"I don't—" Por choked on the lie, his chest rising and falling rapidly. He gripped the edge of the wooden table so hard his knuckles turned white. "You're just... you're being disrespectful."
"Am I?" Tee's gaze lowered, locking onto Por’s trembling, bitten lower lip. "Or are you just scared because a Nong is making your heart race harder than any older guy ever could?"
Por’s mouth opened slightly, but no words came out. His mind was spiraling, caught between the instinct to yell at Tee for ignoring the faculty hierarchy and the terrifying, sweet reality that Tee was entirely right.
Slowly, deliberately, Tee leaned down until his forehead almost touched Por's. The warm air of his breath fanned across Por's cheek, heavy with the scent of iced tea and midnight studio air.
"Tell me to leave," Tee challenged quietly, his hand on Por's back sliding up just an inch, pressing Por’s chest closer to his own. "Say the word, Senior Lead. Tell me you don't want me here taking care of you, and I'll walk out that door right now."
Por stared into Tee's dark, resolute eyes. His throat felt bone-dry. His lips twitched, trying to form the word—Leave—but the command died right in his throat, replaced by a soft, helpless gasp as Tee’s thumb traced the sharp line of his jawline.
The silence stretching between them in the dimly lit studio was deafening. Por’s heart slammed against his ribs, every nerve ending in his body hyper-aware of Tee’s proximity—the heat of his palm through the thin linen shirt, the steady rise and fall of his chest, and the absolute certainty in his dark eyes.
Por tried to summon a single word of senior authority, but the silence was his confession.
Tee’s lips curved into a slow, triumphant smirk. "That’s what I thought," he murmured softly.
Without breaking eye contact, Tee gently took the plastic tea cup from Por’s rigid fingers and set it down safely on the far corner of the table. He didn't pull away; instead, he reached for the exacto knife and the scale ruler, his arm brushing deliberately against Por’s side as he laid out the cut sheets.
"Sit back," Tee instructed smoothly, his voice dropping into a quiet, commanding rhythm that left no room for protest. "Drink your tea. You're going to sit right here and watch me finish the central pavilion elevation for you."
"Tee... I can do my own work," Por whispered, though his voice lacked any real bite. His body felt completely fluid, melting under the grounded, steady weight of Tee’s presence.
"I know you can," Tee said, expertly slicing through the balsa wood with clean, effortless strokes that put Por's tired attempts to shame. "You're the Senior Lead. You're brilliant at this. But tonight, you're exhausted, and you're letting your pride get in the way of letting someone take care of you."
Por swallowed hard, his eyes dropping from Tee’s sharp profile down to the broad line of Tee's shoulders under his dark t-shirt. For weeks, Por had hidden behind his age, his title, and his rigid senior status, insisting that he was the one who had to manage everything, hold the team together, and maintain the hierarchy.
Yet here was a second-year associate, comfortably taking the weight right off his shoulders without asking for permission.
"Why are you doing this?" Por asked softly, his tone stripped of all defense, leaving only raw, quiet vulnerability. "The tweet... staying up late... all of this."
Tee paused his blade for a fraction of a second. He turned his head, his dark eyes locking squarely onto Por’s. The playful arrogance was gone, replaced by a heavy, undeniable intensity.
"Because I'm tired of watching you look for someone 'older' who doesn't even exist," Tee said, his voice deep and completely unwavering. "And because I'm going to make sure you realize that the only person who can actually handle you is standing right in front of you."
Por’s breath caught in his throat. His lips parted, but before he could process the sheer impact of Tee's words, Tee set the completed wood cuts neatly into the pavilion model, fitting the east wing together with perfect, seamless precision.
Tee stood up slowly, towering over Por in the warm glow of the lamp. He reached down, lightly tapping the tip of Por's flushed nose with his index finger.
"That's the elevation done," Tee said softly, a small, genuine smile touching his lips. "Pack your tablet, P'Por. I'm walking you back to your dorm before you pass out at this desk."
Por stared at the completed model, then up at Tee, completely powerless to argue as the last remnants of his senior pride gently surrendered to the quiet, possessive warmth surrounding him.
The cool night breeze swept through the quiet streets surrounding the university, carrying the faint, humid scent of late-night rain. It was well past one in the morning by the time Por and Tee finally stepped out of the heavy glass doors of the Architecture Faculty building.
The campus was completely silent, bathed in the amber glow of tall streetlights. Por walked with a slow, heavy step, his leather shoulder bag feeling three times heavier than usual. His eyes were dry, his shoulders slumped beneath the loose cream shirt, and every step required a conscious effort of willpower.
Beside him, Tee matched his slow pace perfectly, carrying the heavy cardboard cylinder containing the showcase blueprints under one broad arm. Even after sixteen hours in the studio, Tee walked with a calm, grounded posture, though the faint shadows under his eyes betrayed his fatigue.
As they reached the northern intersection where the road split—one way leading back toward the second-year men’s dormitories two kilometers away, and the other leading toward the quiet high-rise residential condos—Por came to a sudden halt.
Tee stopped a step ahead, turning his head to look back at the senior. "P'Por? What's wrong?"
Por kept his gaze fixed on the asphalt for a long moment, his throat working as he swallowed. He knew how far Tee’s dorm was. He knew that the campus shuttles had stopped running at midnight, and that Tee had spent the last five hours standing over his drafting table, painstakingly cutting balsa wood and calculating structural loads so Por wouldn't burn out.
"It's past one," Por said softly, his voice raspy from the chill in the air.
"I know," Tee replied gently, shifting the blueprint tube under his arm. "Don't worry about me. I'll just walk back to the dorm. It only takes twenty minutes."
Por looked up, his wide feline eyes catching the dim streetlamp light. The defensive, icy wall he always kept pulled tight around himself felt fragile, almost completely eroded by the late-night quiet.
"Don't be ridiculous," Por murmured, his tone lacking any of its usual sharp, senior authority. "Your dorm is clear on the other side of campus. My condo is right across the avenue." Por paused, biting his lower lip so hard the pale skin turned white.
"Come sleep at my place tonight."
Tee stilled. His dark eyes locked onto Por’s face, searching the senior’s expression with an intensity that made Por’s pulse quicken.
"Are you sure, P'Por?" Tee asked softly, his voice dropping into a low, quiet register. "If I come up to your apartment, I'm not going to sit on the floor and pretend I'm just your associate."
Por’s heart hammered against his ribs like a trapped bird. He knew exactly what he was inviting into his personal sanctuary. He knew that stepping across the threshold of his apartment meant leaving the safe, rigid hierarchy of "Senior Lead" and "Junior Associate" behind at the front gate.
"I'm sure," Por whispered, taking a single, resolute step toward the high-rise building across the street. "Just... come on."
The elevator ride up to the fourteenth floor passed in a heavy, charged silence. The small metallic cabin smelled faintly of clean laundry and crisp air conditioning. Standing side-by-side against the mirrored wall, Por could feel the radiant heat pouring off Tee's broad shoulder, every millimeter of space between them humming with unspoken tension.
The electronic lock on Por’s front door chimed softly as he scanned his keycard, clicking open to reveal a dark, minimalist apartment. Warm indirect lighting flickered on automatically along the baseboards, illuminating a clean, hardwood living room furnished with a dark grey sofa, floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city skyline, and neatly stacked architectural journals on the coffee table.
Por kicked off his shoes, setting his bag on the entryway bench. "You can put the blueprints on the dining table. I'll get you a glass of water."
Tee set the heavy cardboard tube down on the polished wood table, taking in the quiet space. It looked exactly like Por—neat, impeccably organized, smelling faintly of crisp cotton and sweet tea, but carrying a quiet solitude that felt almost too still.
Por walked into the open kitchen, his hands trembling slightly as he poured cold water from a glass pitcher into two tumbler glasses. The cool glass felt numbing against his hot palms. He stared down at the water, his mind racing.
What am I doing? he thought wildly, his breath shallow. He's a second-year. He's younger. He posted that tweet. He pushed every boundary I have...
Suddenly, the cold tumbler was gently taken from his hands.
Por flinched, turning around instantly. Tee had moved without a sound, standing right in front of the kitchen counter, blocking Por between his broad frame and the cold granite edge. Tee set both glasses on the counter behind Por without taking his dark, unwavering eyes off the senior's flushed face.
"P'Por," Tee murmured softly, his tone completely grounded.
"Tee... drink your water," Por tried to say, but his voice cracked, betraying the sheer nervousness flooding his system. He reached up, his fingers instinctively clutching at the collar of his cream linen shirt. "I'm going to go change into something comfortable—"
"Stop hiding," Tee whispered.
Before Por could take another breath, Tee stepped into his space, his long fingers reaching out to gently cover Por's hand where it clutched his collar. Tee’s palm was warm, large, and completely steady. Slowly, deliberately, Tee unlaced Por’s fingers from the fabric, pulling Por's hand down to rest between their chests.
"Tee..." Por breathed out, his eyes wide, pinned by the dark intensity in Tee’s gaze.
"You've been hiding behind your senior title all day," Tee said softly, his free hand reaching up to slide behind Por's neck, his thumb resting right over the frantic, rapid pulse pounding at Por's throat. "You hid behind it at the studio, you hid behind it on stage during the panel, and you're trying to hide behind it right now in your own kitchen."
"I'm not hiding," Por whispered defensively, though his body was already melting forward, his forehead coming to rest lightly against Tee's chest. He could hear the calm, rhythmic thumping of Tee's heartbeat beneath the thin black fabric of his shirt. "I just... I don't know what to do with you, Tee. You don't listen to me. You ignore every rule."
"Because your rules are stupid, P'Por," Tee replied gently, his arm wrapping securely around Por’s waist, drawing the smaller senior completely into his embrace. The physical contact was immediate, heavy, and intoxicatingly warm. "Your rules just keep you tired, lonely, and stressed out. Who cares about the hierarchy when we're in here?"
Por let out a long, shaky exhale, all the tension that had been locked in his spine for weeks suddenly dissolving. He raised his arms, his fingers curling tightly into the fabric of Tee's dark shirt at his lower back, anchoring himself.
"You're so arrogant," Por mumbled into Tee's chest, his voice muffled and raw. "You're younger than me... you're supposed to listen to me."
Tee let out a low, quiet chuckle that vibrated right through Por's head. "Then tell me to stop."
Por remained silent. He didn't push Tee away. He didn't order him to go to the guest room. He just held on tighter, his fingers digging into Tee’s shirt as if he were drowning and Tee was the only solid thing in the room.
Tee’s hand slid up from Por's waist, his fingers weaving into the soft dark hair at the back of Por's head. Gently, effortlessly, Tee tilted Por's chin up.
In the dim light of the kitchen, Por’s face was completely exposed—cheeks flushed a deep crimson, lips parted and trembling, wide feline eyes filled with a helpless, beautiful surrender.
"Look at me, P'Por," Tee requested softly.
Por looked up, his gaze locking onto Tee’s.
"Who takes care of you?" Tee asked again, the very same question from his viral tweet, but spoken now with a tenderness that made Por's knees feel weak.
Por’s chest heaved with a quiet, breathless gasp. The last remnants of his rigid pride crumbled into nothingness.
"You," Por confessed, his voice barely audible over the hum of the refrigerator, completely unfiltered and honest. "You do, Tee. Only you."
A dark, possessive satisfaction flickered in Tee’s eyes. Without another second of delay, Tee leaned down and covered Por’s mouth with his own.
The kiss was hot, deep, and utterly overwhelming. Por gasped into the contact, his hands instantly flying up to clasp behind Tee’s neck as Tee pulled him tight against his body. There was no hesitation left in Tee’s movement—his lips moved against Por’s with a firm, commanding rhythm, tasting the sweet remnant of milk tea and cold water on Por's tongue.
Por whimpered softly into the kiss, his feet practically lifting off the floor as Tee lifted him by his thighs, setting him down firmly on the edge of the kitchen counter. Tee slotted himself right between Por's legs, his hands gripping Por's hips through his trousers, pulling him impossibly closer as the make-out deepened into a breathless, desperate clash of heat and suppressed longing.
Every touch was deliberate. Every drag of Tee's hands up Por's sides made the senior shiver, his fingers tangling tightly into Tee's hair as he kissed his junior back with everything he had—surrendering every ounce of control to the boy who had broken down all his walls.
The kiss broke with a slow, agonizing slide of lips, leaving both of them completely breathless in the quiet kitchen.
Por’s chest was heaving, his head resting back against the kitchen cabinet as he gasped for air, his glasses slightly askew and his dark eyes clouded with dazed, helpless desire. His lips were swollen, glistening, and parted as he tried to catch his rhythm again.
Tee didn't step back even an inch. His hands remained anchored firmly on Por’s hips, pinning the senior to the edge of the counter. Breathing heavily himself, Tee leaned in, his tongue flicking out in a slow, deliberate stroke across the center of Por’s lower lip, tasting the lingering sweetness there.
He pulled back just enough to look down at Por, his dark eyes burning with a hot, dark intensity that made Por's skin prickle with heat.
"Your lips are so sweet, P'Por," Tee murmured, his voice a thick, raspy whisper that sent a thrill straight down Por’s spine. "I could stay right here tasting you all night."
Before Por could process the words, Tee leaned back down, trailing his lips down the flushed line of Por's jawline to the sensitive dip right beneath his ear. Por let out a soft, involuntary gasp, his fingers digging into the fabric of Tee’s t-shirt as Tee pressed a hot, unhurried kiss against the pulsing vein in his neck.
Tee’s breath hot against his collarbone, he slowly slid his mouth up, the tip of his tongue tracing the delicate curve of Por’s earlobe before teasing the outer rim. Por shuddered violently, his head tilting back as a helpless whimper escaped his throat.
Hovering right at the shell of Por's burning ear, Tee exhaled softly, his low voice vibrating right through Por's head:
"You're finally right where you belong, P’Por... totally helpless under me, and nowhere left to run."
Por’s hands gripped Tee’s broad shoulders tightly as another shudder ran through his entire frame. The low, possessive murmur at his ear dissolved every remaining shred of his composure. He couldn't speak, couldn't put up a single defense—he could only cling to Tee, his breath coming in shallow, uneven hitches against the crook of Tee's neck.
Tee didn't give him a second to recover. His hands slid down from Por’s waist, slipping securely under the back of Por’s thighs. With one smooth, effortless lift, Tee scooped Por off the granite counter.
Por let out a quiet gasp of surprise, his legs instinctively wrapping around Tee’s waist to anchor himself. He expected Tee to set him down, but Tee held him high against his chest, his broad arms like solid iron bands keeping Por entirely weightless. Without breaking the heat between them, Tee walked out of the kitchen, taking slow, deliberate steps down the dark hallway toward the master bedroom.
As they moved through the doorway, Tee’s restraint buckled just a fraction. Wrapped up in the sensation of Por’s soft body clinging to him, Tee’s head tilted, his lips latching onto the sensitive, flushed skin where Por’s neck joined his shoulder.
Tee bit down—firmly, deeply enough to leave a dark mark and make Por arch his back with a sharp, breathless gasp that echoed off the quiet bedroom walls.
"Tee—!" Por choked out, his fingers tightening in Tee’s dark hair, his hips surging forward instinctively against Tee's.
Tee immediately smoothed his tongue over the red mark he’d just left, tasting the sharp heat of Por’s skin. "Sorry," Tee rasped out, his voice thick, rough, and vibrating with dark hunger as he pressed another kiss over the sting. "You're just... making it impossibly hard to go slow."
Tee stepped up to the edge of the large platform bed and gently lowered Por onto the soft dark gray duvet.
Por sank into the mattress, his dark hair fan-spread against the pillows, his cream linen shirt thoroughly wrinkled and half-unbuttoned. He looked completely undone, his feline eyes glassed over with desire, his chest heaving as he stared up at the lowerclassman hovering over him.
Tee climbed onto the bed slowly, crawling over Por like a patient predator, trapping Por beneath his shadow without placing his full weight down. He reached down, his long fingers gently untying the silver frames of Por’s glasses and setting them safely onto the nightstand. He brushed a stray strand of hair away from Por’s damp forehead, his thumb lightly caressing Por’s cheekbone.
"P'Por," Tee murmured softly, his dark eyes searching Por’s face with absolute honesty. "Look at me."
Por’s heavy eyelids fluttered open, his gaze focusing on Tee’s grounded features.
"I need you to know something before I take another step," Tee said, his deep voice trembling slightly with an incredible, raw earnestness. "This isn't just about proving a point. It's not about winning an argument, or showing up the department, or acting brave. I've been in love with you for so long, Por. Every single night in that studio... watching you pour your soul into your work, watching you carry the entire showcase on your shoulders while pretending you didn't need anyone... I just wanted to be the one you leaned on. I fell deeper every single day."
Tee leaned down, pressing his forehead against Por’s, his breath hot and unsteady.
"I love you," Tee whispered, his voice cracking with emotion. "I love how stubborn you are. I love how deeply you care, even when you act cold. I want to spend every day making sure you never have to carry everything alone again."
A hot tear spilled from the corner of Por's eye, soaking into the dark pillowcase. All his fears—his fear of being too rigid, his fear of the age gap, his fear of being vulnerable—melted away beneath the profound sincerity in Tee's eyes.
Por raised his trembling hands, cupping Tee's face with tender devotion, his thumbs gently wiping away the quiet intensity in Tee's expression.
"I love you too, Tee," Por sobbed out, his voice choked with emotion as weeks of hidden feelings finally burst free. "I was so terrified... I kept pushing you away and calling you Nong because every time you looked at me, my heart beat so hard I thought I'd break. You were the only one who ever saw how exhausted I was. When everyone else expected me to be the perfect Senior Lead, you were the only one who just brought me coffee and quietly fixed my mistakes. I fell in love with you because you were the only person who made me feel like I didn't have to be perfect."
Tee’s breath hitched, his heart swelling so fiercely it hurt. He captured Por’s mouth in a kiss—slow, languid, and deeply reverent.
It wasn't a desperate clash, but an agonizingly sweet surrender. Tee’s lips molded over Por’s swollen ones with a tender, deliberate rhythm, tasting the salt of Por’s tears and the warmth of his breath. His tongue brushed gently against Por's, swirling softly, inviting Por into a deep, loving cadence that made the rest of the world fade into quiet background noise. Por let out a soft, trembling sigh straight into Tee's mouth, his fingers tangling tightly into the dark hair at Tee’s nape, completely opening himself up.
Tee didn't rush. While keeping their lips linked in that intoxicating, slow kiss, his long fingers reached down to the top button of Por’s cream linen shirt. He unlooped it slowly, his knuckles grazing the warm, sensitive skin of Por’s collarbone.
With every button he undone, Tee shifted his mouth down—pressing soft, lingering kisses over Por’s jawline, the pulse point on his neck, and down to the pale expanse of his chest. Por shivered beneath him, his chest rising in sweet, shallow hitches as Tee’s lips worshipped every newly exposed inch of skin.
Tee gently pulled the linen shirt off Por’s shoulders, letting it slide away onto the sheets. He paused to press a slow, deep kiss right over Por’s heart, feeling the rapid, frantic beat beneath his lips.
"You're so beautiful, Por," Tee whispered against his skin, his hands moving down to undo the buckle of Por’s trousers, pulling them off with agonizing care, dropping soft, reverent kisses along Por’s hips, his thighs, and his stomach. He peeled away his own clothing with equal patience, until they lay skin-to-skin under the soft amber glow of the room.
As Tee’s hands roamed over Por’s bare, feverish skin, Tee suddenly paused, searching his empty dark pockets on the floor and looking toward the empty nightstand. A look of mild frustration flashed across Tee's face, resting his forehead against Por's chest. "Dammit... Por, I don't have anything here. No protection, no lube. I came straight from the studio... I didn't think..."
Por looked up at him, his feline eyes shining with absolute trust, flushed and completely breathless. He reached down, his fingers lacing tightly through Tee's.
"It's okay," Por whispered softly, his voice steady, sweet, and entirely sure.
"Do it raw, Tee."
Tee froze, his eyes widening as he looked down at him. "Por... are you sure? It's—"
"I've never been with anyone before, Tee," Por confessed, a beautiful, brilliant flush spreading down his throat to his chest. "You're my first. There's no one else. Just you."
Tee swallowed hard, his throat tight with overwhelming emotion. "You're my first too, Por. I've never wanted anyone else."
"Then don't stop," Por begged softly, guiding Tee’s hand down to the space between them. "I trust you. I'm completely clean, and I only want you inside me."
Tee felt every remaining thread of his control shatter into pure adoration. He reached for a small bottle of natural body lotion on the bedside table, slicking his fingers thoroughly. Gathering Por into his arms, Tee pressed soft, reassuring kisses all over Por's face and jawline as he slowly, gently worked a finger inside Por's tight, unreadied heat.
Por gasped softly into Tee's neck, his fingers digging into Tee's broad shoulders as Tee painstakingly opened him up, adding a second finger, then a third, moving with infinite care and patience until Por’s gasps smoothed out into needy, rhythmic whimpers.
"Tee... please," Por whimpered, lifting his hips, completely surrendered. "I need you... all of you."
Tee slicked his thick length, aligning himself at Por's entrance. He cupped Por's face, staring directly into his eyes. "I love you, Por."
"I love you, Tee," Por breathed back.
With one slow, agonizingly smooth push, Tee buried himself all the way inside Por.
Por threw his head back, a loud, sweet cry escaping his lips as his tight, untouched body stretched around Tee's full length for the very first time. Tears of intense feeling prickled at his eyes, but as Tee held him tight, kissing away every tear and murmuring endless words of love against his lips, the initial sting melted into a deep, electric warmth that filled Por to the core.
"You're so warm... so perfect, Por," Tee rasped, trembling as he held still inside him. "Are you okay?"
"Yes... ah, Tee, yes," Por sobbed out softly, wrapping his legs tight around Tee's waist, pulling him deeper. "Move... please, move for me."
Tee began to move—slowly at first, then building into a steady, powerful rhythm that drove straight to Por's sweetest spot. Without any barrier between them, every slide of skin was searing, intimate, and raw. The sound of their heavy breathing and the wet, rhythmic slaps of skin filled the quiet bedroom.
Por lost his mind completely. He clung to Tee, calling out his name in breathless, shameless cries, surrendering every secret of his body to the junior who loved him so completely. Tee drove deep, his possessive thrusts leaving Por utterly undone until both of them shattered together in a violent, cresting climax that left them gasping and tangled in each other's arms
An hour later, the room was enveloped in a quiet, peaceful stillness.
Tee had insisted on carrying Por to the bathroom to clean him up with warm towels, ignoring Por’s weak, embarrassed protests. Now, fresh cotton sheets covered the bed, and the cool night air hummed softly through the slightly parted terrace door.
Por lay curled on his side, thoroughly exhausted, his skin glowing and relaxed.
Tee slipped back under the duvet behind him, wrapping his large arm securely around Por’s waist and pulling the smaller senior back against his chest until there was zero space between them. Tee rested his chin on the top of Por’s dark head, his hand resting flat over Por’s stomach, lightly rubbing small, soothing circles into his skin.
Por shifted slightly, letting out a soft, satisfied sigh as he nestled deeper into Tee’s chest, resting his hand over Tee’s forearm.
"I love you, Tee," Por mumbled sleepily, his voice a soft, contented purr.
"I love you more, my Senior Lead," Tee whispered into Por’s hair, kissing the top of his head. He pulled the duvet higher over Por’s shoulders, tucking him in securely. "Get some sleep. I've got you."
Por closed his eyes, drifting off to sleep held tight in the arms of the man he loved.
The golden morning sun streamed through the sheer linen curtains of Por’s bedroom, casting soft, warm patterns across the dark gray sheets.
Por stirred slowly, letting out a quiet, relaxed hum as he stretched. A dull, lingering ache radiated from his lower back and hips, but it was immediately drowned out by the comforting weight draped over his waist. Tee was still there, snoring softly against the back of Por's neck, his broad arm anchored firmly over Por’s stomach as if keeping him grounded even in sleep.
Por turned his head slightly, his heart swelling with an overwhelming warmth as he took in Tee’s relaxed, boyish face without his usual confident smirk. He reached out, his thumb lightly tracing the line of Tee’s jawline, marveling at how completely his world had shifted in less than twelve hours.
Suddenly, a harsh, rhythmic buzzing shattered the peaceful silence.
Por flinched, reaching over Tee’s broad shoulder to grab his phone off the nightstand. The screen lit up violently with fifty unread notifications from the Architecture 4th Year Lead Group Chat, followed by a barrage of direct messages from Zee and Nunew.
Zee: @Por ARE YOU ALIVE???? Otto: bro... I went to drop off the extra foam boards at the junior dorm and Tee's bed wasn't even slept in.
North: GUYS. LOOK AT THE FACULTY DISCORD.
Otto: NO WAY. SOMEONE SPOTTED TEE'S NAVY STUDIO JACKET HANGING ON A FOURTEENTH-FLOOR BALCONY AT THE GRAND CONDOS.
Nunew: Isn't that Por's building...? 😳
Zee: Por, if you don't answer in 5 minutes I'm calling the Dean to report a missing associate. Or a stolen Senior Lead.
Por’s face instantly flushed a deep, bright crimson. He slammed the phone face-down on the mattress, burying his face in the pillow with a breathless moan. "Oh my god..."
A low, sleepy chuckle vibrated against his back. Tee pulled Por closer, burying his face in the crook of Por’s neck, his lips pressing a warm, lazy kiss against Por’s bare shoulder.
"What's wrong, Pip?"
Por froze under the covers, his head snapping up from the pillow. He turned around, staring at Tee with wide, thoroughly confused feline eyes.
"What... what did you just call me?" Por asked, blinking rapidly.
Tee opened his dark eyes slowly, a soft, ridiculously affectionate smile touching his lips. He raised his hand, tucking a stray lock of hair behind Por's ear. "Pip. My Pip."
"Pip?" Por repeated, his brow furrowing as he tried to process the strange new sound. "Where did 'Pip' come from? My name is Por."
Tee let out a quiet laugh, pulling Por closer until their noses almost touched. "P'Por is what everyone at the faculty calls you. It's formal, it's strict, and it's what you use when you're being the intimidating Senior Lead." Tee smoothed his thumb over Por's cheekbone, his voice dropping into a tender, intimate register. "Pip is mine. Short, cute, and just for the guy who belongs to me behind closed doors."
Por’s mouth opened slightly, his throat tightening as the sheer sweetness—and possessiveness—of the nickname sank in. His face flushed even redder than before, his heart hammering wildly against his ribs.
"You... you can't just invent new nicknames out of nowhere," Por mumbled softly, trying to look stern, though his eyes were shining with affection.
"I can," Tee said smoothly, pressing a sweet, lingering kiss to Por's lips. "Get up, Pip. I'm making breakfast before we head into studio."
By nine in the morning, the main plaza of the Architecture Faculty was buzzing with morning activity. Students were rushing between lecture halls carrying scale models, blueprints, and oversized coffee cups.
As Por and Tee stepped onto the main concrete walkway leading toward the main building, a sudden, heavy hush fell over the surrounding crowd.
Sitting on the concrete steps by the entrance, North and Otto froze mid-bite of their pork skewers. Zee and Nunew stood near the notice board, their jaws practically on the floor.
Por was wearing his pristine, ironed white button-down with his black senior trousers, his glasses polished and resting neatly on his face. He looked every bit the high-achieving, untouchable Senior Project Lead—except for one major detail.
Tee was walking right beside him, carrying both of their heavy portfolio bags over his broad shoulder. And right down the middle of the crowded walkway, in broad daylight, Tee’s long fingers were firmly laced through Por’s smaller hand.
Por’s heart was pounding against his ribs, his ears burning hot, but he didn't pull away. He didn't hide his hand in his pocket. Instead, he tightened his grip around Tee’s fingers, walking tall and keeping his head high.
"Is... is my eyes playing tricks on me?" Otto whispered loudly, dropping his skewer onto the wax paper.
North blinked repeatedly, wiping his eyes. "They're holding hands. In public. In broad daylight."
Zee walked over, tapping his clipboard against his thigh as a massive, proud grin spread across his face. "Well, well. Look who finally decided to show up for showcase setup."
Por cleared his throat, his face burning, but his voice was calm and steady as he looked Zee in the eye. "We're on time, P'Zee. The central pavilion elevation is completely finished."
"I can see that," Zee chuckled, his eyes darting down to their locked hands, then up to the faint, high-collared shadow visible beneath Por’s shirt collar. "Looks like structural integration was a complete success."
Tee let out a quiet, confident laugh, squeezing Por’s hand gently. "Total structural stability, P'Zee. Right, Pip?"
Zee, North, Otto, and Nunew all froze in unison, their heads snapping toward Tee as if on a single swivel.
"Pip?!" Otto shrieked, clutching both sides of his head in dramatic horror. "Who the hell is Pip?!"
"Did you just address our Senior Lead as Pip?!" North gasped, dramatically stumbling backward into Otto's arms as if he’d been physically shot. "Where did the 'P' go?! Where did his full name go?!"
Tee didn't even flinch. He slung the portfolio bags higher over his shoulder, wrapped his arm comfortably around Por’s waist, and pulled him flush against his side. With the most nonchalant, self-satisfied smirk on his face, Tee looked right at the chaotic group.
"It's my special nickname for my boyfriend," Tee declared smoothly, his voice echoing clearly across the courtyard.
"Got a problem with it?"
A suffocating, two-second silence hung over the faculty steps.
"HA?!!" Otto’s voice cracked into an octave no human had ever reached before.
"WHAT?!" North bellowed, pushing Otto away so fast Otto nearly tumbled down the concrete steps. "WHO?! BOYFRIEND?!"
"BOYFRIEND?!" Nunew choked, slapping both hands over his mouth, his eyes wide as saucers as he pointed wildly between Tee's confident smirk and Por's completely ruined, bright-red face.
"Wait, wait, wait!" Otto scrambled back up, waving his hands frantically in the air like an air-traffic controller. "Hold the phone! Rewind the tape! Since when are you guys dating?! P'Por, say something! Is he holding you hostage?! Blink twice if this junior hypnotized you with sweet tea!"
"He didn't hypnotize me!" Por squeaked out, his voice betraying his absolute embarrassment. He looked like he wanted the ground to open up and swallow him whole, but he refused to let go of Tee's hand. "We're... we're together, okay?!"
North clutched his chest, sinking down onto the steps with pure, theatrical despair. "My chest! My heart! The icy, untouchable Senior Lead has fallen to a second-year! The hierarchy is dead! Architecture is ruined!"
"P'Zee, do something!" Otto wailed, grabbing Zee’s sleeve and shaking it violently. "He called him Pip! He snatched our Senior Lead right under our noses!"
Zee just stood there, laughing so hard he had to lean against the notice board for support, wiping a tear from his eye. "I knew it. I literally predicted this weeks ago. Pay up, North!"
"No way!" North yelled from the floor. "I’m filing a formal grievance with the Dean!"
Por’s face was practically radiating heat. He squeezed Tee’s hand tight enough to cut off circulation, shooting his smug junior a desperate, wildly flustered glare.
"I can't take you guys," Por mumbled loudly, grabbing Tee's arm and pulling him toward the building doors. "Come on, Tee. Let me drag you into the drafting room before they start setting up a press conference."
Tee let himself be pulled along, chuckling softly as he waved back at the dramatic, screaming group on the steps, completely victorious.
By two in the afternoon, the intense heat of the day had settled over the faculty grounds, casting long, soft shadows across the lush green lawn behind the Architecture library.
After hours of intense showcase setup—enduring endless teasing, dramatic sighs, and suspicious glances from North and Otto every time Tee handed Por a ruler—the central pavilion model was finally locked into its display case, flawless and complete.
Por stood under the sprawling shade of a massive flame tree near the edge of the lawn, stretching his arms over his head. His shoulders were loose, his glasses pushed up onto his hair, and for the first time in months, he felt completely free of the suffocating pressure he had carried alone for so long.
"If you stretch like that in public, I might have to drag you back to your condo early, Pip."
Por turned around, a bright, automatic smile softening his face before he could even stop it.
Tee was walking across the grass toward him, carrying a woven straw basket in one hand and a thick checkered picnic blanket slung over his broad shoulder. He had discarded his dark studio t-shirt for a loose, comfortable white linen shirt, looking effortlessly handsome in the dappled golden sunlight filtering through the leaves.
"Where did you even get a picnic basket?" Por asked, eyebrow raising with fond amusement as Tee systematically laid out the blanket over the cool grass.
"I had Otto bring it from my dorm this morning," Tee replied smoothly, sitting down and patting the space right beside him. "Come here. Sit down before your knees give out."
Por huffed a quiet laugh, stepping off the concrete path and sinking down onto the soft blanket. Instead of sitting across from Tee, Por naturally settled right against Tee’s side, resting his hip against Tee’s thigh.
Without a word, Tee reached into the basket, pulling out a chilled tumbler of iced sweet tea with extra condensed milk, handing it to Por first. Next came a neat plastic container filled with fresh, cut mango and sticky rice, alongside small tupperware bowls of Por’s favorite savory dumplings from the local market.
Por stared down at the spread, his heart swelling so fiercely it felt almost heavy. "Tee... you prepared all of this?"
"I told you I was going to take care of you, didn't I?" Tee murmured softly, opening the container of sticky rice and scooping up a perfect bite of sweet mango. He held the fork up to Por’s lips. "Say ah, Pip."
Por flushed slightly, looking around the empty lawn to make sure no late-studying freshmen were watching, before leaning in and taking the bite from Tee's fork. The sweet, rich flavor melted on his tongue, but the absolute devotion shining in Tee’s dark eyes tasted so much sweeter.
"Good?" Tee asked, his thumb gently reaching out to swipe away a tiny drop of coconut milk from the corner of Por’s lower lip. He instinctively brought his thumb to his own mouth, licking it clean with that familiar, devastatingly attractive smirk.
Por’s breath hitched, a faint pink dusted his cheeks. "You're incorrigible."
"And you love me for it," Tee said softly, his smirk melting into a quiet, infinitely tender expression.
Tee shifted his position, leaning back against the rough bark of the flame tree and extending his legs. He reached out, gently wrapping his fingers around Por's wrist, pulling the senior down into his lap.
Por didn't resist for even a fraction of a second. He let himself fall back, resting his head comfortably against Tee's broad chest, his dark hair brushing against Tee’s collarbone. Tee’s large, warm hand settled naturally over Por’s waist, his thumb stroking gentle, soothing arcs over Por's side through his linen shirt.
Above them, bright red flame tree blossoms swayed gently in the warm afternoon breeze, shedding delicate petals onto the blanket around them. The distant hum of campus life felt miles away, rendered utterly irrelevant by the quiet, impenetrable bubble they had built together.
"You know," Por whispered softly, his fingers playing idly with the hem of Tee's white shirt, "everyone in the fourth-year group chat is still losing their minds over that tweet."
"Let them," Tee chuckled softly, his deep voice vibrating right through Por’s back. "It was the best tweet I ever sent."
"It was completely reckless," Por accused lightly, though he turned his face inward, pressing a quiet, sweet kiss right through the fabric over Tee’s chest. "You completely ruined my reputation as the strict Senior Lead."
Tee leaned down, resting his chin on top of Por's head, inhaling the clean, familiar scent of Por’s hair.
"You don't need a strict reputation with me, Pip," Tee murmured, his voice thick with a deep, unwavering sincerity that made Por’s soul feel completely anchored. "You don't have to be the Senior Lead. You don't have to be untouchable. You just have to let me love you, hold you, and be the one who takes care of you when you're tired."
Por closed his eyes, a long, peaceful breath escaping his chest. He reached up, lacing his fingers tightly through Tee's large, calloused ones, holding Tee's hand firmly over his own heart.
The rigid hierarchy, the fear of age gaps, the campus whispers, and the endless architectural blueprints no longer mattered. All that mattered was the steady, grounding rhythm of the heart beating beneath his cheek, and the boy who had broken down every single one of his walls just to give him a place to rest.
"I love you, Tee," Por whispered into the warm afternoon air, completely surrender, completely at peace.
Tee tightened his grip around Por’s waist, pulling his senior just a little bit closer into his chest, pressing a long, sweet kiss to the top of Por's head as the golden sunlight bathed them in warmth.
"I love you too, my Pip. Always."
End.