It’s late in the evening when Khánh finally wakes up.

Their hand fumbles around for their phone and encounters rough terry cloth texture. Frowning, they blearily open their eyes and stare at the towel next to their pillow. When did that get here?

Slowly, memories trickle sluggishly into Khánh’s brain. Sitting at the desk, struggling to make sense of the squiggles on the screen that refused to coalesce into coherent words. A knock at the front door. Kai’s concerned face. Being herded into bed despite their protests.

Khánh sits up abruptly, though they regret it when their head swims at the sudden movement. Kai had been in their house! With! No! Refreshments! Khánh is a terrible host!

They start to wriggle out of the sheets but end up hopelessly entangled and fall to the floor with a soft thunk! It’s the kind of position that forces you to wallow for a moment, to really let the pitifulness of your situation sink into the skin and realize that no, you are not at 100% and you can’t just pretend that you are. Khánh stays on the floor feeling quite like an invalid, and it is then that they notice their room seems brighter than usual.

The realization is odd enough that they sit up a little to peek out the window. No, it is still late evening. So what could be the source of the change…? Khánh inches closer to the wall in their blanket cocoon like an inchworm, and it’s then that they realize what’s happened. The bedroom wallpaper their house had come with, patterned unsettlingly with eyes of various sizes on a dark maroon background, is gone. The walls beneath are somewhat patchy but ultimately an inoffensive plain white. Khánh gapes at the improvement that has seemingly come to fruition from their dreams. Do they have psychic powers? Wait, no psychic powers don’t do that, maybe—

The door opens.

Khánh whips their head around and regrets it when the world spins. Consequently, their vision is alarmingly tilted as they gaze at Kai standing in the doorway wearing their apron and holding a tray.

“Khanh?” Kai asks. “Where are you?”

“‘M down here,” Khánh mumbles. Their throat is very sore, they realize.

“Down—oh geez, are you okay?” Kai sounds frantic. He sets the tray down on the bedside table and sinks to his knees, hands working at the knotted sheets to try and work Khánh loose.

“I’m fine, don’t worry,” Khánh assures, but it sounds weak even to their own ears. “What happened to my walls?”

Kai’s lips quirk slightly. “A fairy came in and got rid of all the horrible wallpaper in the house. Which was all of it.”

“The great fairy Âu Cơ?” Khánh exclaims. “Mother has come for me!”

“What?”

“Ah, I’ll have to explain the joke later,” Khánh confesses. With great effort, they roll out of the freshly disentangled sheets and lower themselves carefully into a sitting position on the bed. “Did you come in with a tray?”

“Oh yes!” Kai turns around and presents said tray. There’s a mug of what looks like lemon tea and a large bowl containing steaming chicken soup with macaroni noodles, chopped carrots, and onions. Khánh leans in for a big sniff but their immensely stuffy nose causes them to start coughing instead.

“It looks amazing, Kai!” they enthuse.

“I hope it’s good.” Kai picks nervously at the edge of the sheets as Khánh sets the tray over their lap and picks up a spoon. “I looked up a recipe for Vietnamese noodle soup, and I found this one, but most of the recipes said to use pork ribs, and I definitely didn’t feel confident enough for that, so I just cooked some chicken and shredded it, and for some things it just said ‘to taste’, and I didn’t quite know what what taste they meant, and—”

Khánh doesn’t hear the rest of what he says because they’ve just closed their lips around the spoon and are doing their best not to gag. The pungent flavor of fish sauce has penetrated even the thick barrier their sickness has placed over their sense of taste. Khánh wonders vaguely what it tastes like to Kai and comes to the conclusion that he must not have taste-tested the broth at all. Somehow, they manage to swallow the mouthful, but they already know that they absolutely cannot finish the broth as is.

“... It’s not good, is it?” Kai says.

Khánh looks up and is about to speak, but Kai reaches out to grab the teaspoon and swipes a bit of the soup before they can make a sound.

“BLEARGHH!”

Khánh can’t help it—it starts at a chuckle and quickly evolves to a full-fledged belly laugh that hurts their throat but they can’t bring themselves to care. They might be miserably ill, but with their dear friend Kai here, they can’t be that miserable.

When their laughter finally subsides, they notice Kai’s pout. Khánh smiles widely and extends an elbow. “Help me up and I’ll show you how to fix this. Oh, don’t look at me like that, it’s just a matter of adding more volume to dilute the nước mắm. I may be Vietnamese, but even I can’t handle this much fish sauce.”

“I’m not sure anyone could,” Kai mumbles abashedly.

Khánh chuckles. “It’s an easy mistake to make. Fish sauce is quite pungent, so just a drop too much can tip the flavor overboard.”

“But I put so much of it on the bún and bánh cuốn!”

“Yes, but the English translation is misleading—the fish sauce for those dishes is actually diluted quite a bit, and the name is different in Vietnamese.”

“I feel deceived,” Kai complains as they arrive in the kitchen. He pulls a chair near the stove, and once Khánh is seated, looks at them expectantly. “Well? You’re the director. What steps should I take now?”

“First, scoop out all the noodles and things. You don’t want them to overcook when you’re adjusting the broth. After you’re done with that, you’ll need to double the volume, probably in a 3:1 ratio of water to broth. Let it heat up, then taste a bit of it and we’ll go from there. Sound easy enough?”

“I think so.” Kai sets off to find some bowls.

“Wonderful. While you’re doing that, you can also fill me in on how exactly the wallpaper seems to have slithered off my walls.” Khánh puts on a mock-stern face, crossing their arms to emphasize the feigned displeasure. Their lips keep twitching up into a smile, though, betraying their true emotions.

Kai rubs the back of his neck before continuing his task. “I did ask your permission, you know…”

Khánh frowns a little, and their arms relax. “I have… no recollection of that. But no matter, you were certainly doing me a favor by removing it. I simply learned to ignore it early on.”

“...Why didn’t you just get rid of it again?”

“Oh, you know.” They wave a hand vaguely. “There are many activities in life to enjoy. We should focus our energies on those.”

“So you were too lazy to do it.”

“Didn’t I just say that?”

The two smirk at each other for a bit. Khánh’s phone chirps, signaling the arrival of a text from someone. They pick up their phone and see that it’s one of their sisters asking about holiday plans again. Khánh sighs, knowing that refusing again will lead to a big fight and they’re just so tired of having to reiterate that they refuse to see their parents again until they acknowledge Khánh’s gender. Resolutely, they set the phone face-down on the table.

“By the way,” Kai interjects casually. “Can I get your phone number? That way you can text or call me if you get sick, or if you need anything in future.” He pulls out his own phone and extends it to Khánh .

“Of course!” They accept the proffered phone. “Is it okay if I send a text to myself to get your number?” Kai nods, and Khánh begins to enter their contact information. Remembering Kai’s enthusiasm for linguistics, they enter their full name in Vietnamese order with the proper accents, but then it looks way too formal. They decide to add some emoji around it, but the decision of which emoji is very important. Khánh is quiet for a while as they scroll through the keyboard searching for exactly the right ones.

Eventually they tap out a message to 🍚🧡Nguyễn Hoàng Khánh🥢🍤 and try not to think too hard on what precisely motivated them to include the heart.

*

Bonus scene:

Coworker: I can’t believe my flipping eyes. No really, I can’t. Quick, say something only the real Kai would say.

Kai: I’m not even going to pretend to be mad at you because I’m gracious like that.

Coworker: Care to share with the class what’s got you in such a good mood?

Coworker: ...Kai?

Kai: Sorry I was texting someone.

Kai: And no. Don’t you have work to do?

Coworker: Well at least I know the old grumpy Kai is still in there somewhere. Fine, fine, I’m going now. Have fun texting. Ugh I feel so old…