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They had graduated almost five years ago, so Fang was currently staring in surprise at the letter in his hands, the emblem of their university printed at the top.
— What is this, Teerak? — Tan asked as he plopped down next to him on the sofa, drying his damp hair with a towel after a shower.
— The Faculty of Architecture at our university is inviting me to give a lecture as a mentor for first-year students. — Fang handed him the letter so he could read it too.
Tan skimmed through the text, let out a low hum, and leaned back against the sofa, crossing one leg over the other.
— Well, well… — he glanced at Fang again, now more carefully. — Turns out my husband is quite an important person, Teerak.
Fang snorted, taking the letter back.
— More like they just ran out of options.
— Come on, — Tan nudged his knee lazily. — If you were just a “last option,” they wouldn’t be calling you five years later.
Fang didn’t respond. His eyes drifted back to the university emblem, as if trying to recall something he had long left behind.
— So what are you going to do? — Tan asked more quietly.
— I’ll decline, — Fang replied too quickly, folding the letter in half.
Tan raised an eyebrow.
— Not even going to think about it?
— What is there to think about? — Fang shrugged. — I’m not a lecturer. And I’m definitely not a mentor.
— You were the best in your year, — Tan reminded him calmly, placing his hands on Fang’s shoulders. — Even seniors used to come to you for advice.
— That’s different.
— How?
Fang fell silent, as if even he wasn’t entirely sure what he was trying to explain. He ran a hand through the back of his hair.
— It’s… responsibility, — he finally exhaled. — They’ll look at me. Expect things from me. And I… — he paused, looking away. — I’m not sure I can give them that.
Tan studied him for a moment, then let out a quiet sigh.
— You know, — he stood up and walked off somewhere, leaving Fang alone in silence.
— Where are you going? — Fang frowned.
— Just wait.
A minute later, Tan returned holding a slightly crumpled envelope, as if it had been opened and closed many times before.
— This is for you.
Fang looked at him in confusion.
— What is it?
— Read it.
Reluctantly, Fang took the envelope, pulled out the folded sheet of paper, and unfolded it. The room fell quiet, the only sound the rustle of paper.
He read slowly at first, distant and detached… then more carefully.
His fingers tightened slightly around the edges of the page.
When he reached the end, he didn’t look up immediately.
— You kept this? — he asked quietly.
Tan shrugged, as if it meant nothing.
— Sometimes it helps to remind someone who they really are.
Fang let out a tired, almost humorless chuckle.
— He still thinks he knows me.
— Doesn’t he? — Tan replied calmly.
Fang glanced at him briefly, then back at the letter in his hands.
Silence stretched between them.
— I don’t think I can do it, — Fang finally admitted. — Be what they want me to be.
Tan stepped closer.
— Then don’t be what they want. Be who you are. Be Khaofang — the best graduate of your architecture faculty, and a lead architect at your company. That’s enough. And also… — he smiled softly — be mine.
He leaned in and quickly kissed Fang’s cheek.
— Taaaaan… — Fang nudged him lightly, embarrassed.
— Fine, — Fang added after a short pause.
— Hmm?
— I’ll do it.
He carefully folded both letters and placed them on the table. Tan smiled faintly.
— I knew it.
Fang looked at him, then sighed.
— Don’t get cocky.
But there was no doubt left in his voice.
....
The day came too quickly, in Fang’s opinion.
He stood in front of the mirror in their bedroom, nervously tugging at the sleeves of his shirt.
— Relax, Teerak. Everything will be fine. — Tan turned him around by the shoulders and adjusted his collar carefully.
— How can I be calm, Tan? There will be so many of them, and I’ll be alone.
— I’m sure you’ll manage. This isn’t your first public speaking event. Besides, they’re just freshmen, not a board of directors reviewing your final project.
He leaned in and kissed Fang gently, hoping it would calm him at least a little.
— Let’s go. It would be rude if you were late.
....
The drive from their new apartment to the university took about an hour.
Teng’s hand was intertwined with his, his thumb gently brushing Fang’s skin.
— You’re really going to stay there with me? — Fang asked, watching how calmly his husband drove.
— Yes, Fang. I’ll stay with you if that makes you feel better.
Tan lifted their joined hands and kissed Fang’s knuckles without taking his eyes off the road.
Fang gave a small nod, but didn’t let go — instead, he squeezed Tan’s fingers a little tighter.
— Not “if it makes me feel better,” — he corrected quietly. — Because I want you there, Love.
Tan smirked.
— Then I’m definitely staying.
The rest of the drive was quiet. Soft music played in the background, familiar streets passed by outside, and slowly, the heavy noise of anxiety inside Fang began to fade.
When the university building came into view, he straightened unconsciously.
— Still a chance to turn back? — he muttered.
— Too late, — Tan replied calmly, turning into the parking lot. — We’re already here.
Fang huffed, but the corners of his mouth twitched slightly.
---
The university was just as busy as ever. Students talking, laughing, rushing around — almost the same as five years ago, and yet completely different.
Fang paused for a moment at the entrance, looking at the building.
— Let’s go, oh great mentor, — Tan said softly, smiling.
— Don’t call me that, — Fang sighed.
— Too late.
....
The lecture hall was almost full. A restless buzz filled the room — freshmen chatting, laughing, scrolling through their phones.
But the moment they entered, the noise slowly died down.
Fang stopped for a second, scanning the room — dozens of curious, expectant faces.
Silence settled.
He ran a hand through his hair, like he always did when collecting his thoughts, then nodded to himself.
— Alright… — he began quietly. — My name is Khaofang. I graduated from this faculty and I’m currently a lead architect at Northline Studio. I’ll be your mentor for today.
He leaned slightly against the desk.
— If you think architecture is just about “drawing pretty buildings”… you can relax right now. It’s not.
A few soft chuckles.
— Architecture is about choice. Constant choice. Between aesthetics and function. Between what you want and what is possible.
— You’ll have sleepless nights, deadlines, and revisions. A lot of revisions.
— You’ll need to learn how to accept criticism. Sometimes harsh. Sometimes completely fair.
— And most importantly, you’ll need to learn how to communicate your ideas so that not only you can understand them.
A pause.
— But if you’re here… it means you already have something worth developing.
— And my job is not to make you “correct.” It’s to help you not lose that along the way.
Silence — attentive, focused.
— That’s all for now. The rest, you’ll learn in time.
....
After the lecture, the noise returned — different now, excited.
Students approached him immediately.
— Did you really work on that waterfront project?
— How long does one project take?
— Can we show you our work?
Fang was slightly caught off guard at first, but quickly adjusted, answering, explaining, sometimes smiling, sometimes serious.
— Of course you can show me your work. And you should. Don’t be afraid of it being bad. It’s worse if you never show it at all.
Some looked at him with admiration, like he wasn’t just a graduate — but someone they wanted to become.
A group of girls nearby whispered, clearly impressed by him and trying to flirt.
Tan stepped behind Fang.
— Sorry, Nong, but he’s taken. He's my boyfriend, — he said with a playful smile.
— Actually, husband, — Fang corrected softly.
— He's my husband then! Even better.
Tan said in surprise and admiration, watching Fang show off his palm with a neat ring on his ring finger.
Tan was clearly showing off.
The students laughed, some embarrassed, others even more intrigued.
— Wow… that’s actually… really cool, — one girl admitted.
— Can we still ask questions? — someone asked.
— Only if they’re on topic, — Fang said.
— And if they’re not? — another voice called out.
— Then I’m the filter, — Tan replied immediately.
Fang shook his head, but smiled.
Eventually, the crowd dispersed.
— You did that on purpose, didn’t you? — Fang asked.
— Of course, — Tan said without hesitation. — Boundaries.
— “Boundaries,” — Fang repeated dryly.
Tan stepped closer, gently taking his hand.
— You did well, Teerak. I'm very proud of you.
Fang paused.
— I was just talking.
— No, — Tan said softly. — You were exactly where you were supposed to be.
Fang looked around the emptying hall, then at Tan.
And this time, he didn’t argue.
— Come on, I'm terribly hungry.— He said. — I think I've had enough of “mentoring" for today. I want that cheesecake that we tried last week, shall we go to that cafe?
Tan chuckled.
— I told you. This is only the beginning.
Fang rolled his eyes, but still held his hand as they walked out.
And as they left the lecture hall, he realized… Tan might be right again.