Final Year, Same Heart
Hot water cascaded over my skin, and my entire body trembled beneath its soothing warmth, easing the soreness that lingered from last night. My long dildo and my own hands had worked together to chase away the loneliness that seemed to have taken up permanent residence inside my twenty-year-old body—a body that was about to begin its final year of college.
A smile broke across my face as the water kissed my skin, still unbelievably virgin, even though my soul was filthier than any porn star I watched every night.
I lathered my body with citrus body wash, my favorite — I hated anything flowery or sickly sweet — then wrapped a towel around my waist and walked out of the bathroom, humming “One, two, three, four, five, I love you” by RockBottom Blues under my breath.
I styled my hair like V from BTS, my favorite idol, dressed with care, grabbed my sling bag, slipped on the wristwatch Pran had gifted me on my birthday, and headed downstairs for breakfast.
“Good morning, Mae. Good morning, Pho,” I said, kissing Mom’s cheek when I saw the spread on the table. “Awww, you made my favorite. I love you.”
“Of course. It’s your first day of final year,” Mom said. “I pray you do as well as always, graduate with good marks, and find true love — someone you’ll bring home to meet us.”
Dad pressed his palms together, whispered a small prayer, and closed his eyes.
“Pho... what are you doing?” I asked.
“Teerak, you know your older brother left young to chase his writing dreams abroad. We barely hear from him — a call once in a while, when he’s free,” Dad said. “It’s time you bring someone home. A boyfriend, a girlfriend. This house needs new life. When I was your age, I was already chasing your mother.”
Mom smacked his shoulder lightly, making him flinch. “Teerak will only bring home a boyfriend. Isn’t that right?” She looked at me, her smile full of quiet certainty.
I blushed and nodded. They both laughed — they’d known about me since I was a child, from the dolls I played with, the cooking and gardening I loved, the pink I wore more than blue. And of course, there was the time Mom found my toys while cleaning my drawer — nothing a straight man would own.
“Good morning, Aunty. Good morning, Uncle,” Pran said, stepping inside and waving at me with that bright smile of his.
“Nong Pran, come, sit and eat. I knew you’d come to pick up Teerak. Thank god he has a friend like you,” Mom said, tilting her head toward him before glancing back at me, her eyes warm with something close to hope.
I widened my eyes and shook my head. She sighed and settled back in her seat. Pran sat beside me and helped himself to breakfast like he belonged there — because in a way, he did.
Mom shipped us hard, convinced Pran would take care of me, love me the way I deserved. But to me, he was just a good friend. Someone I respected.
We ate in comfortable quiet, trading smiles, talking about nothing in particular.
When we finished, I kissed Mom goodbye and left with Pran a step ahead of me, his body moving like it had been carved from something perfect — broad chest, strong back, a lean waist, the build of an athlete who lived for football.
He had his own fanbase at college. Whole group chats dedicated to him.
Some of those group chats shipped us too. I never paid them any attention. But sometimes, watching him walk, I thought — if I were a top, an alpha, I’d want Pran underneath me without question.
His body, his glutes, all of it looked built for someone like me to claim. He read like the perfect power bottom, the perfect omega.
But Pran carried himself like a top — the way he stood tall for people, the way he stepped in when it mattered. It was probably why Mom shipped us so hard.
He opened the car door for me, waiting with that same bright smile. It made me blush, just a little. I slid inside; he circled around and sat beside me, told the driver to go, and the engine came to life.
This was the closest we ever got — sharing his car. Mom always pushed me to ride with him, her intentions never subtle. But it wasn’t just her doing. Pran and I had shared this ride for three years, because he always asked me to.
“Excited?” he said. “Final year. One more year and we’re done.” His nerves showed in the way his leg bounced against the seat.
I laughed at the mix of excitement and panic on his face. I reached over and pressed my hand against his shaking thigh. “Relax. It’s just a year. Don’t stress.” I kept my voice calm, even though something in my own chest was tight — first days always were, no matter how many you’d already lived through.
Pran blushed, his ears turning pink. That’s when I realized my hand was still on his thigh, longer than it should have been. I pulled back, cleared my throat, and asked, “So, you’re joining football again this year?”
“Of course. Black Panther team isn’t the same without me,” he said, chest puffed with pride.
Football and food — the only two things that ever made him this happy. I smiled, watching him, right as the driver pulled up to the college gates.
Teerak
