#phapmaze

The argument ended in Phap and Maze both agreeing to end Phap's employment at the company. After all, Phap had every line of the contract memorized, he had paid off the debt of the wedding dress incident, and all that was left now was to complete the painting The Love for Mr Ken. He could do that from home, there was nothing in the contract that said he had to stay at the company any longer. Especially because Maze agreed there was no need.

It was better this way, really. Phap had fallen for Maze and fallen hard, but when the line was drawn in the sand, Maze chose his older brother over Phap. He chose expensive watches and nice clothes over hand made gifts, songs, and the simple life. Maybe Phap was a fool to think that Maze could change... just as much of a fool as Maze had been, to think he could change Phap. They would both always be this way. Too different to be together. Phap would be too violent or too dirty or too lazy. Maze would work too much and be too cruel and stress out about every tiny thing. They just didn't work, no matter what Phap's feelings were. No matter what he thought Maze's feelings were... It wasn't meant to be.

He stared at the unfinished painting. So close to being done, but now... Now he had to finish it for Mr Ken. The last thing tying him to Maze. Then he could move on with his life. Be done with this part of it. Go back to the way things were before... Before that stuck up, rude, annoyingly pretty and cute man who just needed a hug walked into his life.

Poko stared at him from the wall, Teriyaki crowed from behind. Phap sighed, "Yeah, okay, maybe he needs more than a hug..." Phap frowned. He closed his eyes, took a slow breath, then looked back at the painting. It was going to be a long few weeks.

~~~~~~~~~~

Life wasn't the same without Phap around. The office seemed strangely quieter. It had always been lively before Phap started working there, but the staff seemed off now for some reason. Kuea keep fidgeting in his seat, stealing glances at Elle. Ruj was back to being asleep at his desk all the time. Noona looked down and Nay kept complaining about there not being any handsome men around. At least, whenever Neung wasn't there. Neung would visit the office more often, and Maze would visit him. He often looked like he wanted to say something to Maze, but whatever it was, the words never came. Maze didn't understand. Could Phap really have changed this many people's lives? In such a short time?

Then there was the times when Maze was alone. Either in his office away from the others, trying to work, or at home. The office, at least, afforded some distractions, even if he sometimes looked through the windows and glass door, expecting to see Phap's dopey face, and then remembering he wouldn't be out there. Home was worse, though. It felt quiet and cold. Maze listlessly got ready some mornings, sorting through his clothes and frowning whenever he came across a blue suit, or pinstripes. When he woke in the middle of the night to find his hand numb, thoughts of Phap's strong, rough hands massaging his palm came to mind. And worst of all, sometimes when he closed his eyes after just getting into bed at the end of a long, tiring day... the thought of those hands running over other parts of his body would come to mind.

Phap was warm, kind, caring. For all his ridiculous courting, he was a gentle lover. Attentive, too. The first time they had sex was nice, better than Maze really wanted to admit to himself. The second time, however... Phap's hands, fingers, mouth were always right where Maze wanted them to be, before he even realized what he wanted. The man with the amazing memory, the attention to detail, who cared so much about Maze... He knew how to draw give Maze everything.

Beyond all of those things, Maze realized something else about life without Phap. It was boring. All he did was work. Before, Maze had been annoyed about the ways Phap messed with his work. The way he turned things upside down in unexpected ways, even though somehow it always worked. Maze worked hard every day to make sure things would be perfect, and still messed it up. But Phap, he would throw something insane together and people loved it, somehow. Maze didn't understand it at all. Until Phap was gone.

Now, life was dull. Work was dull. For all the chaos that Phap brought to the world, he also brought fun and light. Maze found himself missing that chaotic energy from the artist. He found himself with an excess of energy and nowhere to let it out. As it turned out, yelling at Phap had become kind of cathartic and, honestly, a little fun. Especially when both of them knew he wasn't really mad. Maze didn't actually like himself when he truly got mad at Phap, but the banter had become something playful, something that made them both smile. Those smiles were gone from his life, without Phap around to draw them out of him.

When he was tired and fell asleep at his desk, Phap wasn't there to encourage him to rest. When he ran out of water or something, Phap wasn't there to be bossed around to go get it. When he needed a distraction from things that were stressing him out, or a kind word of advice, or even a strange, drawn out, unrequested life lesson, there was none. Maze didn't realize just how much he needed all of those things until they were gone.

One evening, he was sitting in a chair by the window in his office, trying to get some work done and feeling frustrated. He had a meeting with a client that morning which didn't go to plan. They had been disinterested in his pitch, wanting something more unique, more colorful. The client mentioned the gold shop with a green color scheme that they happened to walk past one day, which was packed with young people. He said he wanted something like that -- not even realizing that Maze's company was involved in the design choice. Of course, Maze had nothing to do with that, it was all Phap. And without Phap there to spice things up, to push the boundaries, he had fallen back into the safe way of doing things.

Maze groaned and landed a fist onto the side table in frustration. A pen bounced off it and hit the ground. Further annoyed, he moved to kneel on the ground and pick it up, only to find some dirt pressed into the carpet, along with a small fragment of pastel eggshell. Phap's gift... from that day... Maze's shoulders fell, his head dropped, he closed his eyes and sighed.

Not long after that, Maze found himself in his car, pulling out of the parking garage at the office and out onto the road. At the first red light, he paused, tapping on the steering wheel with his thumb and pressing his lips together. Everything in his life was wrong. It had all been perfect before, things were going great, then that artist turned up in his life and shook things around. His whole perspective changed. Maybe he really had been shallow, just like Phap accused the day they met. Now, what he found beautiful was different. It wasn't just a nice suit or clean office or bank account with a large number.

Beauty was watering his plants every morning and watching them thrive. It was watching the glowing lights on the water at night and listening to the wind rustle the leaves of a palm tree. It was a sketch of a sleeping man on a couch. It was a song being sung by someone that loves you. It was waking up in your lover's arms, well rested, because you slept through your alarm.

Maze turned left. It wasn't the way back to where he lived, but maybe it was the way home.

He stopped on the street where the artist lived, parked his car, and went up to the now so familiar fence. No bills were tucked between the wooden slats anymore. The drum still hung, though Maze hadn't used it in a long time -- even before his time apart from Phap... it hadn't been necessary anymore. He always came here with Phap.

Without bothering to grab a handkerchief or sanitizer spray, Maze grabbed the handle and started to beat the drum. He always had to hit it dozens of times to get Phap's attention before, but this time, as soon as he started, thunder clapped in the sky above. Maze jumped and looked up, then hit the drum again. Over and over, just like when he visited in the past. Maybe Phap would hear, maybe he would know.

Then the rain came. It happened all at once, the sky opened up and sheets of water fell down on Maze's head. In no time at all, his white shirt was soaked through, his hair drenched. Giving up on the drum, Maze threw caution to the wind and opened the gate. Maybe he could make some excuse about hiding from the rain... maybe could--

~~~~~~~~~~

Phap sat in his dimly lit home, listless and bored without inspiration to work on his painting or the need to go to work every day. Now that he had gotten used to waking up and being somewhere on time, it was strangely hard to get back into his old habits of laying around. He tried working on little drawings or sketches. Comics here and there. He drew Poko and Stephen and Teriyaki. But nothing really gave him any motivation to paint. Even the sadness didn't inspire him.

When he first heard the sound, Phap thought someone had hit the drum on his fence, and he looked towards his front door. He expected darkness, but instead saw a bright flash of lightning. It was followed immediately by a crack of thunder so loud it made the windows rattle. Phap thought the sound he thought was the drum must have just been thunder, but then he heard it again. A continuous beat with no manner of rhythm. It could only be one person.

Springing to his feet, Phap ran to the door and flung it open just in time for the rain to begin falling like an avalanche. Huge, thick droplets slammed into the ground, so loud that they drowned out any other sounds, even the drum. Or did it stop? He wasn't sure. But if Maze was out there...

Phap turned back into the house, grabbed the colorful wash basin, then ran outside with it held over his head. He only made it ten steps before halting. There, before him, stood Maze, drenched and beautiful. Phap's breath caught in his throat. Could it really be him? Was he really here? Or was Phap imagining things?

"Phi!" Maze called out, then dashed forward, closing the distance between them. Phap's heart stopped, then as the smaller man crashed into his chest, it started back up again. This was real. One arm immediately wrapped around Maze, the other awkwardly held up the basin, which now shook with each pelt of rain.

Without wasting a moment, Phap dragged Maze back towards the house. They burst through the door then slowed to a stop. Phap dropped the basin, then went to shake some of the water off himself, when Maze was once more pressed to his chest. He buried his face against Phap's half-soaked shirt, shoulders trembling, arms tight around the taller man's waist. Phap stood frozen for a moment, then his brain caught up with what was going on. Strong arms wound around Maze's small frame and held him tightly.

"What are you doing here?"

There was no answer other than arms tightening around Phap. The artist sighed.

"Come on, come inside, we have to get you out of these wet clothes. You'll get sick." He tried to get Maze to move from the spot where he seemed glued to the floor. It didn't work. But Maze did look up at him, wet hair plastered to his brow, face covered in rain, and eyes wild.

"P'Phap... I--" He stopped, then swallowed hard. Lips pressed together, as Maze seemed to search for his words. His eyebrows drew together, showing that all to familiar stressed out face that Phap had come to miss so dearly.

"Hey..." Phap said gently, moving a hand to hold the side of Maze's face. "Are you okay?"

Maze closed his eyes and leaned into the older man's palm. His own hand came up to grab the back of Phap's not letting him move. "I miss you," the words came out broken and angry. Maze opened his eyes, looking fierce, the grip on Phap's hand tightened too. "I miss you! Okay? I miss all your stupid ideas and your jokes and your teasing! I miss you messing with me and my work! I miss you cheering me up and asking too many personal questions! I miss ... I miss you--" He was searching now, shaking his head as he spoke, growing wilder or perhaps more desperate. "I miss you coming on to me all the time, and touching me, and being in my life!"

Phap blinked. His jaw dropped. He could barely believe what he was hearing, especially coming from Maze. If the man hadn't seemed so angry to say all of these things, he might not have believed it at all. There was no need for words, though, the artist decided. Instead, his other hand lifted to hold Maze's face, and he pulled the man in for a long, passionate kiss. Maze kissed back urgently, one hand fisting in Phap's shirt, as if refusing to let him pull away.

It ended with several shorter kisses and foreheads pressed together. Maze took a slow, trembling breath and Phap opened his eyes to look at the other man's face. Maze's eyes were still closed, his hands still tightly holding onto Phap's shirt and the back of his hand.

"Maze..." He said the name softly, then watched as those pretty eyes opened up again. The anger was gone, replaced with softness, and fragility. Phap smiled. "You... called me phi."

With an annoyed laugh, Maze let go of the other man's shirt in exchange for hitting him lightly in the chest. "Is that the only part you heard me say?"

"No," Phap shook his head, laughing quietly. "But it did make me happy to hear you say it."

"What about the rest of it..." Maze asked, still a little fragile. He swallowed, then added to the end of his question, "P'Phap?"

Phap smiled and gently pushed aside wet hair to uncover Maze's forehead. Leaning in, he kissed the man's forehead, just like he had done before, when Maze had been stressed out. Then, following the same routine, he pulled Maze into his arms for a tight hug. The younger man returned the hug, tucking his face against Phap's chest once more.

"I missed you, too..." Phap said quietly. "Can you hear the sound of my heart? It's beating so hard because you're here again."

Maze shifted in his arms, moving to press his ear more firmly against Phap's chest, listening past the sound of the rain. "I can hear it," he nodded, then lifted his head to look up at Phap. "It's because of me?"

Phap closed his eyes as he let out a little, amused breath through his nose, then opened his eyes and smiled at the bewildered man. "Of course. My heart has been yours since you kissed me on the beach in Phuket."

"When did you take my heart?" Maze asked, eyes wide and vulnerable. "I didn't realize you had it til you weren't around anymore."

So it turned out, Maze was capable of taking Phap's breath away with his own romantic words. "Maybe you gave it to me when I sang for you on your birthday in your favorite restaurant?" Maze looked thoughtful, considering that might have been it. "Or when you held my hand and fell asleep in that nice hotel in Phuket?" It was hard to tell in the dim light, but it seemed as if Maze was blushing. Phap leaned in to speak into his ear, "Or maybe it was the first time we had sex and you realized how good I was in bed?" He pulled back to wiggle his eyebrows at Maze.

It was a step too far, because the young man hit him again, but it came paired with a bright smile, soft laugh, and definitely blushing cheeks and ears. Phap counted it as a win.

"Come on... Let me get you dried off, then maybe we can test my last theory..." He winked at Maze, and pulled him through to the bedroom to get him undressed and dried off. Maze went along without protest, and, in fact, without letting go of Phap, always making sure to keep a hand on him in some way.

~~~~~~~~~~