❝and he held her looser than he would have if he ever could have known❞
sapphires and sulfur, part i | axis powers hetalia | 1560 words | america ; thailand | pg-13 |
in which thailand and america take a tour of the countryside and meet a nice young lady.
written for peekaydee.
part i.
Sapphires and Sulfur
Part II
Every day, she arrives at work just before sunset. She enters the establishment through the front entrance, but makes a right turn into the girls’ quarters almost as soon as she enters. She says hello to her friends and coworkers and grabs a quick bite to eat, and then she quickly dresses, in deep blue and indigo silks that accent her eyes and the shine in her hair. Once the sun has set it is her job to serve drinks and provide conversation; she talks about popular culture, literature, the weather, politics-any number of lines that have been fed into her mind gradually. And, inevitably, one man or two will catch her eye, and grab her by the wrist, and lead her into the back rooms, and she will earn her night’s pay.
When she was born, her father had named her Sonsri, which means “glorious.” However, after her father died and her mother, with two more children to take care of and another on the way, sent her to work in the capital, she became known as Phailin. So it is that name that a business man calls out as his arm encircles her waste, and his booze-tainted breath tickles her ear, and his long fingers clutch at her soft skin.
“Phailin,” he breathes, as she stands stock-still as he undresses her, rubbing closer and closer to her as layer after layer of silk falls to the floor.
“Phailin,” he moans, as she leans forward to plant her lips on his chin, and then his cheeks, and finally his mouth.
“Phailin,” he says, as he grabs her naked body between his rough hands and forces her down onto the bed, pinning her to satin sheets.
“Phailin,” he whispers gutturally, as he takes her forcibly, and she doesn’t even bother to wince as she feels the dull ache that holds no pleasure for her.
Her face, as he looks down on its delicate features, is blank. Because her thoughts are far away, with a young man she met earlier that day. A man with eyes as blue as hers, but much lighter-the sky to her sea. A man with a ready smile and no shortage of naïveté. A man unlike any she’s ever met, or been under.
“You’re particularly eager today,” the man says wryly, and it is only then she snaps back to reality, and realizes that she’s hooked her fingers into his hair and locked her legs around his. She blushes profusely and tries to pull away, but he grabs her hands and holds them in place, smiling. “No,” he says, “don’t stop. I like it.”
But the illusion is shattered. She has been dragged back into this dark, sultry room, and she can no longer see the man on top of her for anything other than he is. She plays her part perfectly, however, and eventually he leaves, satisfied. And when he does, there is a small blue jewel clenched in her hand for her pains.
›››‹‹‹
He has been waiting outside the building, in front of the ink green columns, for nearly an hour. His hands are tucked into the pockets of his jeans, and he is smiling nervously as a string of men exit the building just before sunrise.
It is only after the sun has dyed the street pink-gold with its first rays do the girls exit the building. Deprived of their silks and cosmetics as they are, in simple cotton shifts and long hair tied back, he still finds them beautiful. They don’t return his smiles, however, and hurry away-to their homes, to their children, to second jobs or the bank. And he, disregarded, shuffles from foot to foot as he waits.
She doesn’t spot him, at first. She seems distracted as she hurries out of the building, her fingers twitching nervously. And she races right past him.
“H-hey! Phailin!” He reaches out and grabs her wrist, pulling her back. She recoils, and turns on him violently, her long ponytail whipping his face with the sudden movement.
She hisses something acidly at him in Thai, and his face contorts as he attempts to understand. Then she gets a closer look at his face, and her vision clears. Incredulous, she asks, “Alfred?”
“So you do recognize me!” He says, evidently pleased.
She nods. “W-what are you doing here?”
“I wanted to see you,” he says, brightening. If he were being honest, he’d say that ever since Thailand returned him to the hotel he’s been staying at, he hasn’t stopped thinking about her. That he keeps imagining her face, and it makes his heart ache. That he thinks about what she must have been doing for the past few hours, and it makes his blood boil.
“You…you did?”
“Yup.” Alfred gives her that brash, boyish smile. “You left kind of quickly, before. I didn’t even have a chance to say bye.”
“Sorry.”
“No, don’t apologize. I just felt bad, y’know?”
“Um…I think so?”
He laughs, at that. A low, joyous, carefree laugh that sends butterflies flowing up through her chest. And then, before she can say otherwise, he grabs her by the elbow and pulls her away from Patpong and back towards the human side of Bangkok.
›››‹‹‹
The next night, back at work, she walks around as though floating on air. She smiles warmly at everyone, kisses the cook on the cheek, and doesn’t snap at Ratana when the other girl tugs at her hair while she’s combing in. Her coworkers think she must be ill; the master of the establishment hardly notices. No one asks her why she’s so happy, and she holds her secret to her chest like a stolen pearl, remembering a chaste kiss and infectious laughter.
›››‹‹‹
“Hey, Phailin?”
She turns and sees Ratana, the older girl’s face a cautious mask. “What is it?”
“You’re working again tonight?”
“Of course.”
She can’t really understand why Ratana looks so hesitant and worried. She glances at her again, until finally Ratana says, “Phailin, it’s been six weeks. In a row. You’ve worked nearly every night.”
And suddenly something clicks in her head, and she lets out a gasp as her hand instinctively curves around her stomach. A moment later, she has composed herself; she swallows deliberately and says, quietly, “Perhaps I won’t work tonight.”
“Phailin-”
“I’ll be back tomorrow, alright? Please tell the master that, from me.”
›››‹‹‹
The doctor knows her well enough, by this point. In her three years of work, she has been here five times. The procedure goes quickly, and she’s leaving even before she knows it. But before she leaves, he says something to her in a casual, albeit sad, way that leaves tears stinging in her eyes. And in such a state, she wanders back onto the street.
“Phailin?”
She turns at the sound of her name and finds herself face to face with Thailand, whom she still knows only as Aroon. She tries to smile, maybe even wave casually, but she can’t manage it. She takes one look at his kind, concerned features and something in her breaks. A moment later, she’s in his arms, sobbing into his chest.
Thailand doesn’t say anything, just keeps his arms around her and holds her while she cries. Eventually, she wipes away the last of her tears and takes a step back. “I’m sorry,” she says carefully.
“Don’t be,” he says, equally cautious. He takes a handkerchief out of his pocket and hands it to her; she wipes her face without comment. “Would you like to talk about it?”
“Talking won’t change it, Mr. Aroon.”
Thailand looks at her and then doesn’t need to ask anything more. He heaves a weary sigh and runs his hands over his face. “My dear…I am so, so sorry.”
“Why?”
“You may never understand why, but this is my fault.”
“I see.”
“No, you don’t. But that’s alright. As you said, talking won’t change anything.”
They walk together through the streets in companionable silence. Eventually, Phailin turns to Thailand and says, “Alfred went home, didn’t he?”
“Yes. He’s an important man, he can’t stay away very long.”
She nods. “He told me so. A few days ago. He said he’d probably never see me again.”
“That upset you?”
She sniffs, and nods. “He’s the only person who’s ever…ever treated me kindly, that way, without expecting something in return. He…he kissed me, on the cheek…but it was ending, not a beginning.”
“I see.”
“No,” she responds, “you don’t. But that’s alright.”
And they walk together, not quite understanding one another, but content in the company they can offer one another. And unlike her relationship with another, it will probably last more than one night.
in which thailand and america take a tour of the countryside and meet a nice young lady.
written for peekaydee.
part i.
Sapphires and Sulfur
Part II
Every day, she arrives at work just before sunset. She enters the establishment through the front entrance, but makes a right turn into the girls’ quarters almost as soon as she enters. She says hello to her friends and coworkers and grabs a quick bite to eat, and then she quickly dresses, in deep blue and indigo silks that accent her eyes and the shine in her hair. Once the sun has set it is her job to serve drinks and provide conversation; she talks about popular culture, literature, the weather, politics-any number of lines that have been fed into her mind gradually. And, inevitably, one man or two will catch her eye, and grab her by the wrist, and lead her into the back rooms, and she will earn her night’s pay.
When she was born, her father had named her Sonsri, which means “glorious.” However, after her father died and her mother, with two more children to take care of and another on the way, sent her to work in the capital, she became known as Phailin. So it is that name that a business man calls out as his arm encircles her waste, and his booze-tainted breath tickles her ear, and his long fingers clutch at her soft skin.
“Phailin,” he breathes, as she stands stock-still as he undresses her, rubbing closer and closer to her as layer after layer of silk falls to the floor.
“Phailin,” he moans, as she leans forward to plant her lips on his chin, and then his cheeks, and finally his mouth.
“Phailin,” he says, as he grabs her naked body between his rough hands and forces her down onto the bed, pinning her to satin sheets.
“Phailin,” he whispers gutturally, as he takes her forcibly, and she doesn’t even bother to wince as she feels the dull ache that holds no pleasure for her.
Her face, as he looks down on its delicate features, is blank. Because her thoughts are far away, with a young man she met earlier that day. A man with eyes as blue as hers, but much lighter-the sky to her sea. A man with a ready smile and no shortage of naïveté. A man unlike any she’s ever met, or been under.
“You’re particularly eager today,” the man says wryly, and it is only then she snaps back to reality, and realizes that she’s hooked her fingers into his hair and locked her legs around his. She blushes profusely and tries to pull away, but he grabs her hands and holds them in place, smiling. “No,” he says, “don’t stop. I like it.”
But the illusion is shattered. She has been dragged back into this dark, sultry room, and she can no longer see the man on top of her for anything other than he is. She plays her part perfectly, however, and eventually he leaves, satisfied. And when he does, there is a small blue jewel clenched in her hand for her pains.
›››‹‹‹
He has been waiting outside the building, in front of the ink green columns, for nearly an hour. His hands are tucked into the pockets of his jeans, and he is smiling nervously as a string of men exit the building just before sunrise.
It is only after the sun has dyed the street pink-gold with its first rays do the girls exit the building. Deprived of their silks and cosmetics as they are, in simple cotton shifts and long hair tied back, he still finds them beautiful. They don’t return his smiles, however, and hurry away-to their homes, to their children, to second jobs or the bank. And he, disregarded, shuffles from foot to foot as he waits.
She doesn’t spot him, at first. She seems distracted as she hurries out of the building, her fingers twitching nervously. And she races right past him.
“H-hey! Phailin!” He reaches out and grabs her wrist, pulling her back. She recoils, and turns on him violently, her long ponytail whipping his face with the sudden movement.
She hisses something acidly at him in Thai, and his face contorts as he attempts to understand. Then she gets a closer look at his face, and her vision clears. Incredulous, she asks, “Alfred?”
“So you do recognize me!” He says, evidently pleased.
She nods. “W-what are you doing here?”
“I wanted to see you,” he says, brightening. If he were being honest, he’d say that ever since Thailand returned him to the hotel he’s been staying at, he hasn’t stopped thinking about her. That he keeps imagining her face, and it makes his heart ache. That he thinks about what she must have been doing for the past few hours, and it makes his blood boil.
“You…you did?”
“Yup.” Alfred gives her that brash, boyish smile. “You left kind of quickly, before. I didn’t even have a chance to say bye.”
“Sorry.”
“No, don’t apologize. I just felt bad, y’know?”
“Um…I think so?”
He laughs, at that. A low, joyous, carefree laugh that sends butterflies flowing up through her chest. And then, before she can say otherwise, he grabs her by the elbow and pulls her away from Patpong and back towards the human side of Bangkok.
›››‹‹‹
The next night, back at work, she walks around as though floating on air. She smiles warmly at everyone, kisses the cook on the cheek, and doesn’t snap at Ratana when the other girl tugs at her hair while she’s combing in. Her coworkers think she must be ill; the master of the establishment hardly notices. No one asks her why she’s so happy, and she holds her secret to her chest like a stolen pearl, remembering a chaste kiss and infectious laughter.
›››‹‹‹
“Hey, Phailin?”
She turns and sees Ratana, the older girl’s face a cautious mask. “What is it?”
“You’re working again tonight?”
“Of course.”
She can’t really understand why Ratana looks so hesitant and worried. She glances at her again, until finally Ratana says, “Phailin, it’s been six weeks. In a row. You’ve worked nearly every night.”
And suddenly something clicks in her head, and she lets out a gasp as her hand instinctively curves around her stomach. A moment later, she has composed herself; she swallows deliberately and says, quietly, “Perhaps I won’t work tonight.”
“Phailin-”
“I’ll be back tomorrow, alright? Please tell the master that, from me.”
›››‹‹‹
The doctor knows her well enough, by this point. In her three years of work, she has been here five times. The procedure goes quickly, and she’s leaving even before she knows it. But before she leaves, he says something to her in a casual, albeit sad, way that leaves tears stinging in her eyes. And in such a state, she wanders back onto the street.
“Phailin?”
She turns at the sound of her name and finds herself face to face with Thailand, whom she still knows only as Aroon. She tries to smile, maybe even wave casually, but she can’t manage it. She takes one look at his kind, concerned features and something in her breaks. A moment later, she’s in his arms, sobbing into his chest.
Thailand doesn’t say anything, just keeps his arms around her and holds her while she cries. Eventually, she wipes away the last of her tears and takes a step back. “I’m sorry,” she says carefully.
“Don’t be,” he says, equally cautious. He takes a handkerchief out of his pocket and hands it to her; she wipes her face without comment. “Would you like to talk about it?”
“Talking won’t change it, Mr. Aroon.”
Thailand looks at her and then doesn’t need to ask anything more. He heaves a weary sigh and runs his hands over his face. “My dear…I am so, so sorry.”
“Why?”
“You may never understand why, but this is my fault.”
“I see.”
“No, you don’t. But that’s alright. As you said, talking won’t change anything.”
They walk together through the streets in companionable silence. Eventually, Phailin turns to Thailand and says, “Alfred went home, didn’t he?”
“Yes. He’s an important man, he can’t stay away very long.”
She nods. “He told me so. A few days ago. He said he’d probably never see me again.”
“That upset you?”
She sniffs, and nods. “He’s the only person who’s ever…ever treated me kindly, that way, without expecting something in return. He…he kissed me, on the cheek…but it was ending, not a beginning.”
“I see.”
“No,” she responds, “you don’t. But that’s alright.”
And they walk together, not quite understanding one another, but content in the company they can offer one another. And unlike her relationship with another, it will probably last more than one night.