"Even if the world spits on our love—
I would still kneel in the storm to hold his hand."
—Kao Neptune
Nil drew in a shaky breath. His lips parted, but the words caught on the edge of his throat. His eyes shimmered—not from sorrow, but something far more fragile. They were filled with light, with tears, with a helpless kind of wonder.
Slowly, he sank on both knees.
His hand found Kao's, trembling slightly, but steady in purpose. His forehead furrowed faintly, as if he were bracing himself for a pain he didn't yet understand.
Then he bowed his head.
"...Stranger," he whispered, voice barely audible. "I don't have the right words."
He paused, breathing once—then again, deeper.
"I always dreamed of becoming an actor," he said. "Of standing beneath bright lights, hearing the director call 'cut.' Even being cast in a BL drama felt like a step toward something bigger."
"But—" His voice caught, a quiet tremor slipping through. "I never once felt anything real for any man."
Kao stood motionless, silent. Watching.
"Until you." Nil's fingers tightened slightly around his. "Until you appeared. And my heart... beat for someone it shouldn't."
"I was afraid," he admitted, voice thick with emotion. "Afraid that feeling something for you would pull me away from what I worked for. That I'd lose myself."
He looked up, eyes shining through the blur.
"I'm selfish," he said, almost bitterly. "I ran away from my country. Left my family behind in Bangladesh, chasing something I couldn't name."
His head bowed again, but this time not from shame. From resolution.
"...But today," he said softly, "just today... I want to be a little more selfish."
"I want to choose you."
There was a long pause. The wind brushed past them, gentle as breath.
Then Nil looked up once more. His voice was quiet. Steady.
"Stranger... Ami tomake bhalobashi." ('I love You' in Bengali language)
Kao blinked. His face shifted—subtle, unreadable. But his eyes held something new.
"...What did you say?" he asked, voice low.
Nil smiled. Not the forced smile of stage lights, nor the defiant grin he wore when challenged. It was soft. Honest.
"I said..." he murmured, "I love you...''
''Mr. Stranger."
At Nil's confession, Kao's expression shifted—just slightly, but unmistakably.
The sparkle in his eyes was not merely joy. It was relief. As though a question that had haunted him for far too long had finally received its answer.
Without a word, he took Nil's hand.
The platinum ring slid over his finger, smooth and seamless, as if it had been waiting for this moment. As if it had known, all along, where it belonged.
Nil looked at him, lips curving into the faintest smile.
Their faces were too close.
The air between them trembled.
Kao exhaled softly, and Nil could feel it—warm against his cheek, like a sigh pressed into skin. Their breaths fell into the same rhythm, rising and sinking together. A heartbeat's pause. Then another.
Then Nil's lashes lowered.
He closed his eyes—
—and leaned in.
Their lips met.
Nil's lips moved fast, breath shuddering into Kao's, parting and closing again like a tide refusing to retreat. Cold at first—so cold it hurt—but then Kao's lips opened, and the warmth flooded in. It spread through Nil's chest like fire in dry grass.
He sucked on Kao's lower lip—gently at first, then greedily, pulling it between his teeth. Kao responded with a sharp breath, and his hand slipped behind Nil's neck, fingers curling into the base of his skull like he was claiming him.
Nil let out a sound—half gasp, half moan—and pressed forward.
Kao didn't yield.
He devoured.
Tongue thrusting forward, seeking deeper, hotter. The kiss turned bruising. Sloppy. Messy. The kind of kiss that tasted of unspoken years. Of longing repressed so hard it cracked open all at once.
Their bodies shifted—Kao's back arching, Nil pushing harder—and suddenly they were falling, together, sinking into the cold, moonlit sand.
Nil landed on top, legs straddling Kao's hips. The weight of his body pressed their chests together, and the friction—God, the friction—made them both groan.
"Mmmf—ahh..."
Kao's hands weren't idle. One gripped Nil's waist, dragging him closer until there was nothing left between them but heat and heartbeat. The other slid low—too low—cupping Nil's backside and grinding him down, forcing a whimper from Nil's throat.
Nil gasped into his mouth. His hands dove into Kao's hair, pulling, gripping, anchoring—needing.
"Kao—" he breathed, but it came out choked, ragged.
Kao kissed him harder, tongue hot and wild, until Nil could no longer speak, could only feel.
The beach was silent.
Utterly, hauntingly so.
No birds. No waves. No footsteps but their own. Even the sea seemed to hold its breath, as if unwilling to disturb what was unfolding beneath the heavy dusk sky.
Kao's hands trembled faintly.
The kisses had long passed the point of return. His mouth ached. His chest heaved. Nil's breath was hot against his cheek, and every part of him was begging for more—for skin, for sound, for surrender.
Kao's fingers slid downward, curling into the waistband of Nil's trousers. He pressed into the curve of him—firm, possessive, his palm shaping around Nil's flesh as though sculpting something sacred.
Nil gasped into his mouth. His hips jolted in response—uncertain if it was to escape or to invite.
Kao's other hand gripped his waist, tightening, anchoring him like he might disappear.
But then—
With one swift motion, Nil pushed him away.
The kiss broke.
They separated—mouths flushed, lips wet with shared saliva, their breaths sharp and uneven. A string of warmth still lingered between them, invisible, unbroken.
Kao stared at him.
Nil lay beneath him, trembling slightly, hair fanned against the sand like scattered ink. His lips were red, parted, kissed far too many times in too short a span.
But his eyes—
They were clear.
"...Stranger," Nil whispered.
His voice was softer than breath, but it held the weight of something final.
"I need... some time."
For a moment, Kao did not move.
He simply looked at him. And in that look—regret bloomed. Not shame. Not withdrawal. But the pain of someone who realized, too late, that desire had made his hands too fast.
"...I'm sorry," Kao said, voice low, rough. "I shouldn't have overstepped."
He sat back slowly, giving space without fleeing. His fingers hovered mid-air, as if unsure what they were allowed to touch now.
"...But," he added quietly, "may I—at least—hold your hand?"
Nil stared at him.
And then—he smiled.
Soft. Small. Real.
He reached forward and slid his fingers into Kao's without a word. Their hands met, palms fitting like a secret the world didn't need to know.
"...Hmm," Nil murmured, and it was enough.
They lay there, side by side, the wind brushing across their skin like a lullaby for restless hearts.
Their hands remained clasped—tight, immovable—as if any distance between them would cause the night to collapse.
The two lay side by side, half-immersed in sand, clothes damp, hair tangled, salt clinging to their skin like memory. The tide crept forward, bold enough now to touch their feet. And still, neither moved.
Kao turned his head, gaze angled toward the sky.
"...When did you know?" he asked softly. "That you had feelings for me?"
Nil blinked, then laughed faintly, the sound caught between embarrassment and truth.
"Not sure," he said, staring upward. "Maybe from the first day."
He paused, voice dropping. "Or... maybe when you left me in Bangkok. You just vanished. And suddenly I couldn't breathe right."
"I kept looking for you," he admitted. "In streets. In reflections. Even in strangers' shadows."
A breath passed between them.
Then Nil asked quietly, "And you?"
Kao didn't hesitate.
"From the first day," he said.
"...From our first kiss."
Their eyes met.
No fireworks. No swelling music.
Just the raw, steady collision of two gazes — both smiling, both knowing, both finally, finally understood.
Then—
A single drop of rain fell.
It struck Nil's cheek like a tear that didn't belong to him.
Another.
And another.
Within seconds, the sky broke open.
The rain came hard and fast, heavy as grief, soft as grace. It poured from the heavens like a long-awaited confession, drenching the world in its embrace.
Nil stood up.
Arms open. Head thrown back. Eyes closed.
He let the rain take him.
His hair clung to his forehead, shirt soaked and nearly translucent against his skin. The ocean behind him roared, the wind tangled at his limbs like a jealous lover.
He laughed—not wildly, but with a quiet rapture.
As if this was the miracle he had been waiting for all along.
To Kao, it looked as though he had dissolved into a thousand raindrops—his figure blurred, sacred, unreachable.
"...Nil?" Kao's voice was low, nearly swallowed by the downpour. "What are you doing?"
"You'll get cold. Come here."
Nil didn't open his eyes. He smiled, face tilted up, rain cascading across his lips like hundreds of kisses from the sky.
"Stranger," he said, breathless with joy, "don't be afraid. This—this is a gift."
"Open your arms. Close your eyes. Let the heavens touch you."
Kao hesitated.
The wind wrapped around him, cold and stinging. His clothes were already damp, his fingers chilled.
But Nil stood there like something untouchable. Like divinity wearing human skin.
Kao took one step forward. Then another.
"...But, Nil—"
"Stranger," Nil cut in, eyes sparkling with mischief even through the rain, "consider it a decree."
He held out his hand again. The same hand that had trembled hours ago. The same hand that had reached through every wall Kao had built around himself.
Kao looked at it.
Then he looked at Nil.
And then—
He surrendered.
His arms slowly opened.
His eyes slid shut.
The rain found him.
And for the first time in years, Kao felt.
Not just the cold. Not just the wet.
But the way each raindrop traced the edge of his jaw like a lover's fingertip. How they slid past his collar, into the dip of his throat. How Nil's presence seemed to pulse with the rhythm of the storm, close enough to touch, too holy to hold.
He felt the ache beneath his ribs ease.
He felt the silence between them fill.
He felt alive.
Time, like the tide, eventually came for them.
Their hands remained joined, skin chilled, hearts warm. The rain had softened to a mist, but the moon had long since fled, leaving the beach painted in shades of pearl and ash.
"Nil," he said, thumb brushing against Nil's knuckles. "Let's go."
"You have a shoot tomorrow. You can't afford to lose yourself tonight."
His tone wasn't scolding—it was careful, almost reluctant. But behind those words lingered the truth: reality was waiting.
Nil tilted his head, wet lashes clinging to flushed cheeks. He gave Kao a look filled with pity, longing, and something childishly stubborn.
"But, Stranger," he said softly, voice a sigh between raindrops. "Isn't it amazing?"
Kao didn't answer.
Instead, he took Nil's hand again—this time with purpose. A tug, light as thread, and he tried to guide him toward the car, toward the life they had temporarily escaped.
But fate, it seemed, had not finished with them.
Their feet slipped—too quick to catch themselves—and the next thing they knew, they were tumbling sideways in a flurry of limbs and laughter. The damp sand greeted them like an old friend, cold and clinging, cushioning their fall with playful cruelty.
Nil burst out laughing.
He lay beside the car, hair soaked and shirt clinging, his laughter unguarded and sweet.
"Ah, Stranger," he said, breathless between giggles, "even the sands of this beach conspire to keep us."
Kao propped himself up on one elbow, rain still trickling down the side of his face. He stared at Nil, momentarily speechless.
Then he exhaled a sharp breath through his nose and let a smile bloom—rare, crooked, devastating.
"Oh, my poor Nil," he murmured.
He reached out and lifted him—not like someone lifting a fragile bird, but like someone reclaiming what belonged to him. There was no question, no hesitation. His arms were strong, steady. His body had memorized the weight of Nil and carried it like instinct.
"I can't leave you stranded here," he said, voice low, teasing. But something deeper, hungrier, flickered beneath the surface.
The car door creaked open behind them, waiting.
Nil curled slightly against Kao's chest, arms folding around his neck like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Their eyes met.
Still raining.
Still breathing.