Breath 13

He must have fallen asleep.

Time, space—everything had blurred.

The heat behind the make shift wall of the storage room

wasn’t biting anymore, just a dull pressure in his bones,

like he’d merged with the carved potatoes

that are still floating on the small container

used by Ploy’s mom to ditch them in.

When he opened his eyes,

Tom was sitting next to him,

cross-legged beside an overturned flour bucket,

holding something that smelled... oddly comforting.

“So,” the Indian guy rasped, rubbing sleep from his eyes, “is it over?”

Tom exhaled, long and slow.

“Not really sure. I snuck in here just to check on you. And to give you this.”

He handed over a small white bowl.

Steam curled from the surface.

A swirl of green, rich and fragrant, with pale rice bobbing gently

like survivors on a tide.

“You made me a green curry?” the Indian guy asked, blinking.

Tom smiled, sheepish. “I know I owe you. Had to cook fast.

Hope that’s the Green curry you’ve asked for earlier.”

The guy stared at it for a second, then dug in.

There was no spoon—just a fork floating on the curry.

The first bite made his eyes flutter briefly closed. Maybe it was just hunger.

Or maybe it was something more primal: gratitude masked in Thai spices and bell peppers.

“Thanks. This is not only edible, it’s pretty good. So…”

he asked between bites. “Did my wife leave?”

Tom leaned back against the dull concrete wall, adjusting his legs, there’s barely

enough space for two people.

“Yeah. She asked me to tell you she’d be waiting. She looked... devastated. Sorry.”

The Indian guy didn’t respond. He just kept eating, slower now.

“So I cooked really good, huh?” Tom asked.

He nodded. “You’re no longer a waiter, you’re officially a Thai chef now.”

Tom chuckled. “Can I ask you something?”

That made the man freeze.

He clutched the bowl like a shield.

“You saved my life, hid me here, and now fed me...

So now comes the expected part, do it quickly, I’ll just close my eyes”

To Tom’s shock, the Indian guy quickly unzip his pants. He was about to

pull down his white brief…when-

Tom laughed. “Man. What are you doing, that’s not what I want to ask!”

Sweat forms on his head, the Indian guy quickly zipped his pants back.

“It’s not? I guess my wife was right, I always preempt people

and expect the worst in every scenario.”

Tom smiled. “It’s a long stressful night. It’s ok. I don’t mind getting a quick

freebie of your tighty whitey.”

The Indian guy blushed, he moved the bowl to cover himself and the

tighty whitey behind his pants.

“I just... I feel like we’re both standing on the same side of the street.

I trust you man. If things were flipped, I think you'll also do the same for me.”

The man relaxed, just slightly.

“Okay. So if you’re not coming to collect my man to man action innocence...

what do you want in return?”

Tom’s eyes flicked toward the walk-in door, like he was checking

to make sure they were still alone. “As I said, I really don’t want anything.

I helped you because that’s the right thing to do. I wish I could have helped

others as well. But I can’t. Everything happened quickly and they came in

sheer numbers. It’s impossible to fight them. Anyway, what I wanted to

ask you is something like, how do you know if a guy really likes you?”

The Indian guy snorted.

“That’s your question?”

“I mean, it’s important for me to know…your thoughts” Tom said, lips twitching.

“So we are friends now, huh?” the man teased.

Tom smiled shyly as he hesitated. “Sort of. I... hooked up with one of the agents. Nick.”

The guy dropped his fork. “Wait—what? Just so I heard you right,

this Nick guy is one of our enemy right, we’re hiding from him and yes

you just threw yourself up by literally spreading your legs in the air?

Is this how you bought your escape?”

“That’s not really what happened, it’s more like….consensual”

He raised an eyebrow. “So you think he likes you?”

Tom nodded. “I feel like he does. It wasn’t just about survival.

There was something... deep. A vibe. But when I think things

over, we’re polar opposites, now I’m not sure what my fucking heart

says, what he’s feeling and the worst thing, I want a second round”

“A second round? Are you insane! Just to bring you back to

reality, you lusted after a freaking Immigration agent, and not

only that when things outside are so unpredictable, you’re going

for another round?”

“I’m not slutty. You’re making it sound like I’m slutty” Tom snaps.

“Oh, I don’t have to say it, all it takes is one look at you.

You are the perfection of sluttiness.”

The Indian guy leaned back, crossing his arms.

“Okay. Let’s break this down.

Do you know if he’s single? Married? Gay? Straight?

Is he a Sagittarius? These things matter.”

Tom blinked. “I don’t know much about him. It just happened.

He kissed me. We kissed. And…we fucked”

“So you fucked a guy you know nothing about,

who has the power to ruin your life?”

He shook his head, grinning. “Wow. You are really something else.

But listen, regardless of your level of sluttiness, I’m here for you.

I owe you my life, I will do anything to protect you”

Tom opened his mouth to respond when—suddenly—a light flashed.

Harsh and white.

The false wall they'd hidden behind creaked open,

flooding the tiny room with light and cold air.

Nick stood there, flashlight raised, eyes scanning.

The Indian guy jumped up, bowl clattering to the floor.

“He’s the illegal!” he blurted, pointing at Tom.

Tom snaps back, “Really? What happened to you’ll do anything to protect me?”

Nick smirked at the Indian guy. “I know. And I didn’t see you.”

Tom grabbed the Indian guy’s hand instinctively.

“Don’t worry. He’s the guy who fucked me”

Nick raised his eyebrow. “It’s all clear. You can both come out now.”

The Indian guy stepped through the gap,

squinting under the yellow light of the storage room

lined with metal shelves filled with dried noodles and chili peppers

and other stuffs you don’t wanna know,

he stretched dramatically, like a man waking from a month-long nap.

“God bless Thailand,” he muttered, rubbing his back.

Then he turned to Tom and extended a hand.

And he hug Tom.

“You’re weird. But... thank you.” He stared at Tom

and whispered “Be careful, he’s not one of us.”

He nodded once at Nick, then walked out of the room without looking back.

The Indian guy rushed out of the restaurant’s back door

and stared at the night sky.

He heard a faint voice.

Someone is calling him.

And it’s coming from the side of the restaurant building.

A figure starts to move.

He froze.

Tom stood in the doorway of the storage room, half in shadow,

watching Nick.

The dining lights flickered gently above them.

Silence settled like rice dust.

Nick looked at him. Tom looked back.

They didn’t speak.

But the way they smiled—small, tired, knowing—said everything.

They kissed.