Latte

Latte & Kim Latte first saw Kim at a small café near Chulalongkorn University. The afternoon sun hit Kim’s face just right—soft features, dark eyes that seemed to hold whole starry nights, and a smile that made everyone nearby glance over twice. Latte’s heart skipped a beat right there; he knew he’d never seen anyone that breathtaking. From that day on, Latte became the sweetest suitor anyone had ever seen. He’d wait outside Kim’s dorm every morning with warm soy milk and Kim’s favorite pandan buns—still steaming, never too sweet. He remembered exactly how Kim liked his iced coffee: three pumps of caramel, extra milk, no ice. He’d walk Kim home slowly, always keeping himself on the side closer to the road, holding Kim’s bag so Kim’s hands stayed free. But he was also quietly, adorably possessive—simply because Kim was just too gorgeous. When someone leaned a little too close to take a photo with Kim at an event, Latte would gently step between them, smile politely, and say: “Sorry, we’re running late for dinner now.” When Kim got a flood of messages asking him out after posting a single selfie, Latte would rest his chin on Kim’s shoulder, fingers lacing tight with Kim’s, and murmur: “They don’t know you hate spicy food and need someone to peel your mangoes for you… only I do.” One evening, sitting by the Chao Phraya river at sunset, Kim tilted his head and laughed softly. “You’re so gentle… but you hold my hand like you’re afraid I’ll float away.” Latte squeezed his fingers a little tighter, gaze warm and sincere. “Everyone looks at you like you’re something rare and beautiful to admire. I just look at you like you’re mine—the one I want to take care of, forever. Can you blame me for wanting to keep you close?” Kim leaned in, resting his forehead against Latte’s, cheeks pink. “Never. You can hold me as tight as you like.”