After I got out of the hospital, Freen kindly offered to let me stay in her dorm since my room was on the fourth floor. I tried to decline, thinking there was an elevator, but she insisted, leaving me with no choice.
I wasn't entirely sure what Freen was up to, but I went along with it. Maybe she felt genuinely sorry for what happened.
"So, where am I supposed to sleep? You only have one bed here," I mentioned.
"That bed is big enough for two people, we can share," Freen explained while organizing her things.
Her dorm room wasn't really messy, except for her sketching materials. I became curious and picked up the sketchbook from the bed to see what kind of drawings she was working on, when she suddenly snatched it from my hands.
"That's a bit rude," I said, rolling my eyes.
"You're not innocent either, you should ask before grabbing stuff," she teased, sticking her tongue out before locking the sketchbook in a drawer.
Now I was even more intrigued about what she was hiding, and clearly, she didn't want me to see.
"Are your sketches all about your ex-boyfriends?" I jokingly asked.
Freen rolled her eyes and chuckled. "Nah, I'm not really into sketching people. I tend to miss out on details."
"Then why not let me take a peek?" I raised an eyebrow.
"It's my private stash," she replied, taking a seat at her study table.
"So, how many boyfriends have you had?" I inquired.
"Why do you make it sound like I'm collecting trophies?" Freen scoffed playfully.
"Just answer the question," I insisted, giving her a stern look.
"Alright, fine." She sighed. "I've never been in a serious relationship. I've dated people who liked me, but I never really put much effort into it, and they eventually got tired and moved on."
"Then why did you seem so upset when Mr. Worrapon left?" I quizzed.
"I wasn't hurt that he left. I was more upset that he cheated on me with another guy. He should have just ended things with me first," Freen half-smiled.
"But what about the girl who left you?" I probed.
Freen chuckled. "We were never in a real relationship. I was just attracted to her. Then one day, she just disappeared."
"Have you found her now?" I asked.
"Why bother looking for someone who chose to leave? If she wanted to stay, she would have. Besides, she acts like she doesn't know me anymore. It's okay, though. That's life, I guess," Freen awkwardly smiled. "But maybe I misjudged her. Maybe she's not pretending."
"You know what your problem is? You always trust your gut feelings. How can you be certain without asking?" I remarked. "Remember, the person who asks a question is a fool for a minute, the person who doesn't ask is a fool for a lifetime. Keep that in mind, Freen." I rolled my eyes playfully.
"Alright, Confucius," she teased back, focusing on her phone.
I went to the bathroom by myself to freshen up. After cleaning up, I returned to find Freen engrossed in a conversation with someone on the phone. I couldn't see the person's face clearly, but I recognized his distinctive hairstyle. I couldn't quite recall where I had seen that style before, but it was definitely unique. Who picks a mushroom as their hairstyle inspiration, anyway?
I stretched out on the bed as Freen ended the call without saying goodbye to the person on the other end. She lay down beside me, causing me to furrow my brows.
"So, what's the plan here?" I asked.
Freen flashed me a mischievous grin and gestured for me to close my eyes, but I found it hard to do so when she was staring at me so intently. Seriously, what was going on with her today?
"Can't fall asleep?" she inquired. "Well, then I'll serenade you," she declared, clearing her throat.
"I've got a bunch of troubles, Chankimha, not sure if your voice can handle it," I quipped, covering my ears and making her roll her eyes.
She gently removed my hands from my ears and held them in place so that I had to listen to her. She cleared her throat once and started to sing.
I had no idea that Freen could sing. I had expected her to just tease me. I closed my eyes, pretending to sleep, all the while wanting to fully experience her voice. Wow, it was incredibly soothing.
"When I was younger, I saw my daddy cry and curse at the wind," she began.
"He broke his own heart and I watched as he tried to reassemble it." Freen continued, tenderly caressing my head.
"My momma swore that she would never let herself forget," she sighed.
"And that was the day that I promise. I'd never sing of love if it does not exist," she sang, her voice carrying a heartfelt emotion.
"But darling, you are the only exception. You are the only exception."
I couldn't explain it, but the way she sang made it feel real. As if she had genuine feelings for me. But that couldn't be right; she's homophobic, and I'm gay. It just didn't make sense.
I needed to stop letting my imagination run wild.
"You are the only exception. You are the only exception..." Freen leaned in, gently kissing my forehead before snuggling up beside me.
In that moment, as Freen held me close despite my usual aversion to physical contact, an overwhelming sense of security enveloped me. Her embrace felt like a shield against all my worries, creating an unexpected refuge where my troubles seemed to fade away.