Chapter 12 – Hints Between the Lines

The sound of the TV hummed softly in the living room, bursts of laughter and lively music breaking the otherwise quiet air. On the screen, the comedy film was reaching its peak—its main character fumbling to escape an awkward, laughable situation, holding the viewers' attention with ease.

A soft bluish light from the TV spilled across the wooden floor, reflecting off the furniture: the low table in front of the sofa, a plate scattered with orange peels and apple skins, and the two men sitting side by side.

Huyet Minh sat upright on the sofa, legs stretched out, his posture both casual and relaxed. A plate of fruit rested in his hand, fingers deftly peeling orange segments and slicing apple pieces as though it were second nature.

Beside him, Thien Duc leaned slightly forward, back straight, eyes fixed on the screen. The cool blue glow reflected in his deep-set eyes, making them gleam coldly like water under a night sky. His lips pressed into a thin line, his expression calm, only tightening slightly whenever the scene shifted.

Another orange slice, perfectly peeled, sat between Huyet Minh's fingers. He leaned slightly toward Thien Duc, his voice soft as a breeze, laced with deliberate teasing:

"Thien Duc, open your mouth."

Thien Duc flinched, shoulders tensing. His eyes broke from the screen and slid toward Huyet Minh, brows knitting slightly. His voice came low and husky, barely above a murmur:

"Huh? Why would I open my mouth out of nowhere?"

Huyet Minh didn't answer right away. He lifted his hand, bringing the orange slice close to Thien Duc's lips, the distance between them so narrow their breaths nearly mingled. A faint smile tugged at his lips as he said, slow and unyielding:

"To feed you."

Thien Duc blinked, his gaze darting away as if searching for something else to focus on. His face tilted slightly, voice dropping lower:

"I can eat by myself."

Huyet Minh let out a quiet sigh, a sound more like a hidden chuckle than anything else. His eyes curved faintly, betraying the amusement flickering within:

"Don't be shy. Your mouth is busy watching the movie. Let me take care of you."

Thien Duc drew in a sharp breath, turning his gaze back to the screen, his tone even but tinged with the helplessness of someone cornered:

"You make it sound like I'm a child."

Huyet Minh dipped his head slightly, bringing the slice closer, his voice lowering, barely bridging the space between them:

"Open up."

For a moment, the whole room went still. Only the movie's background music broke the silence. The tips of Thien Duc's ears flushed red, his eyes flicking toward the slice near his lips before darting away, avoiding the weight of that gaze. Finally, he exhaled softly, lowering his head as his voice shrank to a near whisper:

"Fine… just stop staring at me like that."

The orange touched his tongue, cool and smooth. A mellow sweetness unfurled across his mouth, slow and lingering. Thien Duc chewed gently, almost absentmindedly. He couldn't quite tell if the sweetness came from the fruit, or from the quiet intimacy of being tended to this way.

Huyet Minh's quiet laugh broke the silence, his voice light as a breath:

"That's better. Good boy."

Thien Duc said nothing. His eyes stayed on the screen, but the corners of his lips… curved upward—just barely, enough for Huyet Minh to notice.

---

On the screen, the main character cleverly escaped the awkward mess, a mix of wit and humor. Thien Duc murmured an observation, his tone even:

"This is actually a good movie. The main character's pretty sharp."

Huyet Minh, still slicing an apple, slowed his motions to glance sideways at him. A subtle smile played on his lips as his voice, unhurried, drifted over:

"Mm. Sharp. But sometimes a little stubborn. Reminds me of someone."

Thien Duc turned, his gaze sharpening:

"You're talking about me?"

Huyet Minh lifted his shoulders in a mock-innocent shrug, tone easy:

"I never said that. You just admitted it yourself."

Thien Duc exhaled quietly, turning back to the screen, voice low and clipped:

"Talks too much."

Huyet Minh chuckled softly, his tone dipping, warm and velvety:

"But you're not annoyed by it, are you?"

Thien Duc fell silent. Several seconds passed, the movie's sound filling the pause. He drew in a quiet breath, eyes still on the screen, his reply little more than a murmur:

"… Can you just be quiet? I'm watching."

Huyet Minh didn't argue. Instead, he speared a slice of apple with a toothpick, held it to Thien Duc's lips, and grinned:

"Alright, alright. Eat. I'll keep quiet."

---

A slapstick gag played—a clumsy tumble by the lead character. Thien Duc, caught off guard, burst into laughter. The sound, rare and genuine, rang through the room, lingering a few seconds as his eyes curved and his lips softened into an unguarded smile.

Huyet Minh watched silently, his gaze softening, deepening. For a fleeting moment, the sound from the TV faded from his awareness. Under his breath, too low for anyone but himself:

"You… look beautiful when you laugh."

Thien Duc turned, blinking:

"What was that?"

Huyet Minh immediately faced forward, eyes on the screen, his tone level, as if he hadn't spoken at all:

"I said the movie's funny."

Thien Duc studied him, suspicion flickering:

"I'm pretty sure you said something else."

Huyet Minh calmly peeled another orange slice, eyes averted, voice smooth:

"Nope. You're imagining things."

Thien Duc narrowed his eyes, scrutinizing:

"Really?"

Huyet Minh finally turned his head, his lips curling faintly, voice airy as a breeze:

"Really. Now open up, before it gets cold."

Thien Duc tilted his head, faint confusion flickering in his eyes—Since when does fruit go cold? But in the end, he opened his mouth, letting Huyet Minh feed him again.

Huyet Minh chuckled at the expression on his face but said nothing. Moments like these, Thien Duc's guarded demeanor softened just enough to make teasing him irresistible.

---

The film shifted to a cherry blossom scene, soft pink hues washing over the screen. Gentle music filled the room, wrapping everything in a delicate, dreamlike calm. On the screen, the main couple stood beneath a canopy of blossoms, sharing a slow kiss, the world around them falling still.

Thien Duc shifted, his shoulders stiffening. His gaze reflexively darted away from the screen, head turning aside, brows knitting lightly as he exhaled. His voice came low, as if trying to steer away from the moment:

"What kind of movie did you pick… so many scenes like this…"

Beside him, Huyet Minh leaned lazily into the sofa, idly spinning the fruit knife along his fingers. He arched a brow, casting a fleeting glance at the screen before his lips quirked, voice carrying a teasing lilt, barely louder than the music:

"This scene's nice. Watch it. Might even… teach you a thing or two about romance."

Thien Duc froze for a fraction of a second. The tips of his ears flushed, the words brushing against something unspoken. He gave a short huff, voice raspier than usual, laced with irritation to mask the awkwardness:

"Who needs lessons?"

Huyet Minh tilted his head slightly toward him, still slicing fruit with practiced ease, though his dark eyes glimmered sidelong with something harder to read. His voice dropped, slow and suggestive:

"You might. Someday."

In that instant, the movie's soundtrack seemed to dim in Thien Duc's ears. His gaze flicked toward Huyet Minh, cautious, searching for a tell. But Huyet Minh's expression stayed maddeningly calm, his focus seemingly fixed on the fruit in his hands. The very ease of it made him all the more inscrutable.

Thien Duc's brows furrowed, his tone quiet but tinged with doubt:

"You sound… experienced."

The knife's edge tapped softly against the plate, a quiet click. Huyet Minh lifted his head. This time, his eyes locked squarely onto Thien Duc's, no trace of his usual smile or playful glint. His voice came low, steady, serious enough to shift the air between them:

"Not experienced… But I know who I like."

Thien Duc's heart stuttered. For a breath, the world seemed to slow, sound thinning around him. He forced his face to stay composed, though his fingers tightened against the sofa's edge. His breath drew longer, deeper, as he tried to steady the sudden stir in his chest. He knew exactly what Huyet Minh was implying, but his throat felt tight—he couldn't, or wouldn't, acknowledge it.

His voice, when it came, was rough, a touch unsteady beneath the forced calm:

"What… did you just say?"

Huyet Minh didn't break eye contact. After a beat, he lowered his gaze, plucked up another apple slice, and held it toward Thien Duc's lips. His eyes glimmered, deep and unreadable, the words he left behind simple:

"Eat. Don't overthink."

Thien Duc stared at the slice. His throat felt parched, the tips of his ears burning crimson. He bit into it slowly, forcing himself to chew, even as his words slipped out, rough and faintly accusatory—anything to cut through the thick, taut air:

"You always know how to make things… awkward."

Huyet Minh's lips curved into a faint smile, impossible to hide:

"Because I like watching you like this."

---

The film ended. The TV went dark, leaving only the soft hum of the closing score. Thien Duc rose, gathering the plates from the table. The plate once piled with fruit now held only peels and cores. He glanced down at his stomach, rubbing it lightly, a flicker of exasperation crossing his face as he muttered:

"Next time… peel your own damn fruit."

Before he could turn, Huyet Minh was already on his feet, moving to intercept. He took the plate from Thien Duc's hands with ease, his tone firm yet carrying a smile laced with something harder to place:

"No. I like… peeling fruit and feeding you."

Thien Duc frowned, drew in a shallow breath, then silently followed him into the kitchen. His voice slipped out, soft, more a sigh than a remark:

"You really are…"

Huyet Minh stopped abruptly, turning to face him. His gaze locked on Thien Duc, dark and unwavering, pinning him in place. His voice, drawn low and slow, carried a weight, as though demanding an answer:

"What?"

Thien Duc hesitated. His fingers tightened around the hem of his shirt, his gaze slipping aside, his reply little more than a murmur meant for himself:

"…The most troublesome person I've ever met."

Huyet Minh's lips curved upward. A low chuckle escaped him, though there was an odd finality beneath it. He stepped forward, closing the distance, his tone even and quiet—a statement, not a question:

"But… I'm also the one you can't get rid of. Right?"

Thien Duc's breath hitched. He edged back half a step, only to find the edge of the counter against his back. His words stumbled, stripped of their usual composure:

"I… I just…"

A warm hand rested lightly on his shoulder. Huyet Minh leaned closer, voice slow and hushed, brushing against his ear:

"You don't have to say anything. I… understand."

Thien Duc's head dipped, the flush from his ears spreading across his cheeks. His voice rasped, almost breaking:

"Understand… what?"

Huyet Minh tilted his head, his smile softening until it nearly melted into the air:

"Understand that… I'll stay with you. Even if you run. Even if you try to push me away… I'll still be here."

In that moment, Huyet Minh's gaze darkened briefly. A colder thought drifted through his mind, sharper than his gentle words:

But if you ever try to run from me… you might not be able to walk again.

His eyes, almost unconsciously, flicked downward—to Thien Duc's ankle.

Thien Duc caught the glance. Slowly, his gaze followed, brows drawing together. A flicker of confusion crossed his face as a stray thought whispered through his mind:

What's… on the floor?