Behind the Scenes / by afterday, –west–

Translator: TULIP
ISBN 885-930-51-1608-2
Published in Thailand by everY,
an imprint of Jamsai Publishing Co., Ltd.
Copyright ฉ Jamsai Publishing, afterday, and –west–, 2021
Cover design by Lulla
This book is copyright under Copyright Act B.E. 2537 (1994).
No reproduction without permission.
All rights reserved.
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Charansanitwong Road,
Bang Khun Sri, Bangkok Noi,
Bangkok 10700
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 | SCENE ONE |
Pran | talk

Someone told me there are no secrets in this world. Once the

secret is known by more than two people, it's no longer a secret. I
don't like having secrets. I never feel like it's fun to hide something. It
only causes continuous trouble.
Despite that, I've had this one secret ever since I was born. It's
a secret known by more than two people, a secret that
unintentionally happened, and still a secret I've been trying to keep
hidden as best I can.
Maybe I'm afraid…that if the secret is no longer a secret…
something will be lost.
"Pran! Watch out!"
FWIP! THUD!
Wai shouts from behind and I dodge by instinct. Another guy
lunges past where I was standing and tumbles on the ground,
missing his target.
He turns his head and scowls at me before springing up. His
clenched fist rises up, ready to break my jaw. I take the chance to
bend down, tilt my head dodging his attack, and smack him back
right under his chin.
I pant and take a step back, losing quite an energy with that
movement.
"You!"
THUD!
"Ugh!"
"Pran!"
Taking a long time to pull myself together, I got attacked from
behind, getting kicked by someone in the back, followed by a punch
in the mouth. I fall down and twist in pain from the collision between
my arm and the concrete ground.
Glancing up, I see Wai trying to hold those engineering
students back by kicking them away. I spit out some blood, wipe the
liquid on the corner of my mouth off carelessly, and get up on my feet
with the help from my buddy.
"Wai, go help Ke first!" I tell him and signal him to go straight to
our friend who is being beaten up by two guys. Wai nods and strikes
one of the foes in his stomach, then he strides there with his long
legs.
Even though I said that, I can barely swallow my saliva down
my throat now that I'm facing with three dogs baring their fangs.
At this kind of moment, where the hell are those kids who
started this shit?!
"What the heck? I guess someone like Pran Parakul can go
pale too?"
One of them asks me with such an irritating manner. He moves
closer to me, with a smirk at the corner of his lips, putting both hands
in his pockets. I frown a little and narrow my eyes as if asking, 'What
the hell do you want?'
"Did you go rigid?"
Huh.
I grin and scoff.
POW!
I throw my fist at his cheek without warning. His face jerks back
from the force, an annoying smirk still plastered on his face.
"You son of a bitch!"
His minions behind him get flustered at my words for their
leader. They bark like dogs getting ready to charge me, but when
they spot a tan arm raising before them, they all freeze, looking
confused.
"What, Pat?"
"Leave him to me."
Saying those words, Pat gives me an evil grin, the familiar grin
I've seen several times in the past fistfights. Our eyes meet, and I
smile back at him to accept his challenge. We hold each other's gaze
until we hear the bell ringing in our heads. That is our one last glance
before we rush toward one another.
The first punch lands on my stomach, but it's not strong
enough to hurt me. I seize the nape of his neck and slam my knee in
his belly in return. Our faces are so close that they almost touch
before he collapses, wrapping his arms around his abdomen.
"You're not holding back at all."
He whispers through his teeth, making me smile a little. He
stands up and lunges at me again. I put up my guard on the right
expecting his fist to come, but he locks his arm around my throat
from the left instead. My face contorts from suffocation. I throw my
weight at him to break his balance and wrap my legs around his,
sending us to the ground. We keep exchanging our punches until we
both run out of energy and fall over in different directions.
"Damn, it hurts as fuck."
Wai grumbles and sucks his breath in as he cleans the wound
on his eyebrows with a damp cloth.
"I'd be surprised if it doesn't," Ke says. He looks no different.
His lips are ripped, and he winces every time he speaks.
"Where's Golf, by the way?" I ask, looking around for another
member of our gang. Since a professor's faraway voice split us into
all directions, I haven't caught sight of him.
"I last saw him leading the juniors to the other way. He'll catch
up with us, I guess."
These damn juniors keep causing us troubles. As if I'm not
busy enough with my project. If the topic of my thesis gets
disapproved, I'll beat their asses.
"What's it about this time?"
"Not sure." Ke tilts his head. "From what I heard, the second–
year engineering students teased our freshmen."
That shit again. When will our professors allocate the university
budget to provide muzzles to keep those dogs shut? That way, we'd
live in peace and wouldn't have to beat them ourselves.
"Are you okay, though? That's one long wound on your arm.
Why don't you clean it first?" Wai suddenly takes the arm I'm holding
to check the wound.
 "I'll treat it at my place. It's only a short walk."
"I'm walking you there. You'll be in trouble if you bump into
those bastards."
"They're no different from us. Probably licking their wounds
somewhere."
"Come on. Ke, are you coming with us?" he cuts short and
asks the other guy.
"You two go first. I'll stay here for a while."
"All right, see you tomorrow then. Don't forget to re–write your
project."
"Can you not mention the project now? I'm too exhausted for it"
Wai sniggers and sucks his breath in again because his cheek
hurts. We say goodbye to Ke and leave.
You probably get confused to see how the story started out with
a wild fistfight. Well, gang fight has become a tradition for us, the
leading gangs, which have been rivals since the first generation, of
two faculties: Us, the architecture gang, and them, the engineering
gang.
Now that we're seniors, we have to clean up all the mess our
juniors cause. We don’t even need a grudge to make us run towards
each other. Sometimes, we, the seniors, join the force without
knowing the exact reason.
But we have pride. When we fight…we must win.
"The wound on your eyebrow, it's gonna get worse tomorrow."
Wai looks at me before touching his eyebrow and gasping.
"Yeah, I was too careless. He attacked me from behind. How's
your stomach? You've been holding your tummy for a while."
How is it, you ask? that asshole Pat threw another punch in my
stomach when I fell down the first time. We miscalculated the
strength we put in and got hurt pretty badly.
"It's covered." I shrug. "I'm fine."
"You'll die from internal bruising someday."
"And you'll probadly die with a crushed face."
"Fuck you, Pran."
I give him a weak smile. We walk through the tree lined path to
the back area of the university, where many apartments for students
are located.
"Hey, let me buy a dinner real quick." Wai pats my shoulder
and leads our way to a noodles stall. "Can I have one large spicy
rice noodles, please? Do you want one?" he asks me after ordering
his go–to menu.
"Nah. Your lips are a mess and you're gonna have spicy food.
Look at yourself."
He laughs. "Yeah, I'm a sadist. What are you having, though?"
"I don't know. The punches got me full."
He smiles, nods to end the conversation, and turns his gaze to
the pot of boiling soup, waiting for the stall owner to boil the noodles
and pack them.
"See you tomorrow, then."
Wai says goodbye once we've reached the building wher I live
in. We split up here since he lives in the next building. I nod, walk in
the entrance door, and go straight to the elevator. The elevator door
opens after a moment. I step inside, press the floor button, and wait
for the iron door to close slowly.
"Wait! I'm going too!"
A familiar voice reaches my ears as the door is closing. It's
forced to open again, revealing the blood–stained face of the person
I fought with hours ago.
The troublemaker smirks and pushes himself through the door
to stand beside me with his eyes on the floor buttons. The ponytail
on his nape bugs me like hell. He meets my eyes with that annoying
smile on his face as the elevator door has finally closed, ready to go
up.
Pat, Napat, the leader of the fourth–year engineering gang, my
rival throughout my four years in college. It's known that if we're in
the same area, a fight is to be expected. We exchange blows
whenever we meet. Figuratively, I'm a fire and he's fuel. All hell
breaks loose when we collide. It's funny because the resentment
didn't start in our generation…
It started way back in our parents' age.
My parents and his have been business rivals ever since
before I was born. They hold a deep grudge against each other. For
as long as I can remember, they've been cursing each other, drilling
hatred into their children.
The joke is on us all because we lived next door and went to
the same kindergarten, primary school, middle school, and high
school. When we bumped into one another, we threw kicks as a gift.
Adults' hatred has been passed on to us, the young'uns, leaving us
no choice but to fight and compete in everything: Grades, sports,
strength. We both want to be superior in everything.
Humorously, we're at the same university now. The only
change is that we got into different faculties, though the buildings
stand alongside one another as if begging us to just kill each other
off. The situation is incredibly convenient, like we're now forced to
fight.
It stresses me out, thinking we're probably need to blows each
other for the rest of our lives. Come to think of it, it's weird to be born
with a destined enemy even before getting to learn about the other's
existence. Like, I wanted to win against him even though we'd never
met.
"Have you eaten?"
I'm snapped back from the dusty past memories when the mad
dog next to me taps my shoulder.
"How can I eat with this mouth?" I say evenly, eyeing his
bruised face. "Go feed yourself in your room with a liquid diet."
He laughs and presses his tongue in the bulge of his cheek,
the kind of action that makes my foot twitch every time I see it.
"I'll share a bowl."
I roll my eyes, tired of his face. Well…I did smack his face so
many times that the sight of it pains me.
"Keep it for yourself."
 | SCENE TWO |
Pat | talk

"What porridge? I didn't buy it. You said this morning that you
wanted to have spicy glass noodle salad, so I bought it for you after
classes. But you came back so late and the noodle salad got all
soggy. You didn't pick up the phone and then showed up with this
bruised face. Now you're telling me to buy porridge for you because
your mouth hurts? A scumbag like you have the right to make such a
request?"
Here is a corner apartment near the university, with two small
bedrooms, one bathroom, a shared area, and a refrigerator room. I
call it a refrigerator room because the area is far too small to be a
kitchen. Now Par, my precious little sister, is lecturing me about the
same old topic. Hearing her voice nagging here becomes like a
routine.
I mean, I wake up, have breakfast, study, have a fight, come
home to get nagged, then I go to sleep, wake up, and again end my
day with her lecture. Never learned my lesson. If Pran and his gang
saw me standing here meekly with my hands folded in front like this,
they would tease me for another ten lifetimes. Even so, I mumble an
excuse guiltily to my nagging sister.
"I didn't start it this time, Par. Pran did."
"Was there ever a time you weren't the one starting a fight,
Pat?"
"I mean it. I was studying when Gon came to me and said Pran
brought his gang to beat him up."
"Stop acting like you don't know Pran. Your friend must've
started it."
"Whoa, are you my sister or Pran's?" I whine. In this world, I
only yield to Par. This three–year–younger girl, who used to be a
baby toddling after me, is now glaring at me and taking my enemy's
side.
"Wait on the bed," Par orders sharply. She moves a chair to the
front of the crazy tall bookshelf and climbs on it to get the dark–
colored first aid kit kept on the top of the shelf. Still looking annoyed,
she slams the box on the cushion, jolting me. I'm afraid she'll tell me
off again.
"Stop fighting, will you? How's Pran, by the way?"
"That punk got his ass whooped. What do you think? You
should be proud to have a brother like me. Ouch! What was that hit
for?"
"Stop being so pround of being a delinquent. It's not even cool."
"Cool or not, I'm a popular guy. Quit nagging, will you? You're
worse than Mom."
"That's because Mom never nags at you," my little girl scolds,
fumbling for ointments and other materials: mercurochrome, balms,
painkillers, bandages, and gauze.
"There's no cotton ball left."
"What? We just bought it at the beginning of this month."
"Who told you to get into a fight every other day? Your medical
supplies cost more than my tampons."
"You're exaggerating."
"Don't make me feed you with those bills. They'll get your
stomach full." Par puts everything back in the box, closes the lid, and
locks it for good. "Ask Pran to treat your wounds."
"Huh, what?"
"We ran out of stuff. And I don't want to go back downstairs. I'm
already in my pajamas, as you can see."
"It doesn't take long to change."
"Or you can just knock on Pran's door and ask him to treat the
wounds. Which one is easier?"
"Par, come one, go to the convenience store for me, please."
"Don't use that soft tone." The girl rises to her full height and
crosses her arms to show seriousness. "This is your punishment for
getting into a fight. I'm so sick of it. Oh, and if you get into another
fight this week, I won't let you sleep here for real."
 "I'm your brother crawling out of the same womb."
"Because you're my only brother." I know she's worried, but I
can't help it. "If you don't break this habit, what will you do if one day
you get jumped by a whole gang? I know you're strong, but strong
people don't always survive. Whatever. I've made up my mind, I
won't go down to buy them for you. Go ask Pran to treat your
wounds and apologize to him as well."
"I'm gonna tell Dad you take side with the son of that family."
"You would've done it long ago if you'd really wanted to."
I hate this sassy little girl for always being onto me. She's right,
though. I would've done it long ago if I'd wanted to.
"Don't forget to apologize to him."
"I know."
Again, I sigh and walk out of our room to stop in front of the
next door. I muster up my courage for a while.
"Knock, knock."
I utter the knocking sound after Par goes back inside and locks
the door. So if my wounds don't get proper treatment, I am banned
from my own place. This is not the first time. I have no idea how
many times things turned out this way, and I can never accept it as
normal.
Pran and I met at pre-kindergarden. He was one of my good
friends back then. But, for some reason, the teachers always tried to
split us up. We even lived in the same neighborhood, but never went
to school or went back home together for once. When we were in
primary school, we were sent to the same all–boys private school. I
began to have an idea that Dad didn't want me to be close to Pran,
that Pran was a bad boy. My parents and his weren't on good terms.
No, they hated each other's guts. I started cursing Pran's dad like my
dad did. Pran didn't take it to heart at first, only frowning at times, but
it was very fun teasing him like that. Then, one day he threw a rock
at my forehead, and began our first fight ever. My head bled and I
got three stitches for the first time. Our moms screamed at each
other at ER, embarrassing us. Pran rested on the bed next to mine
with his broken chin. I don't know how many stitches he got, but we
both cried. I've hated him ever since, as he's also resented me. We
despise each other without knowing why.
"What?"
The owner of the room opens the door. What good ears he
has. He knew I was out here before I even knocked.
"How are your wounds?"
"Not your fucking business."
"I'm worried, you know."
"Fuck off. What do you want?"
I point at the corner of my mouth and my bruised left temple.
They need to be treated at the least.
"So?"
"I ran out of cotton balls."
"Go buy it. The convenience store is downstairs."
"Par told me to steal some from you."
"Again?"
"Yeah. Don't be stingy. Isn't your family well–off?"
"You're the one deserving the insult, Pat. Just go and buy it
yourself."
"Who told you to hurt me, then?" It's all your doing. And look at
you. You're not taking any responsibility. What a jerk. "You have to
treat my wounds."
"Can you not order me and just beg me as your sister told
you?"
"Who said Par told me to beg you?"
Pran turns around. He doesn't slam the door at me, so I take
the chance to slip in. His place is different from mine, a single room
for living alone, not a rental corner apartment costing ten thousand
monthly that Par and I live in. The price is enough to buy a whole
apartment.
"See it yourself."
The latest iPhone flies in the air and I grab it just in time. The
screen displays a texting app, showing Par's messages. She told
Pran to help me treat my wounds in a respectful and gentle manner,
unlike the tiger snarling at me seconds ago.
"She got me again."
 "If you want to be treated, come and sit here. And leave right
away once I'm done with you so I can take care of my own wounds."
"Aight, aight," I say and flop on the floor cross–legged while
Pran sits on his bed. He starts by cleaning around my wound with a
cotton ball dipped in alcohol, and I switch off the teasing–Pran mode.
Pran is actually good–looking. I mean, bias aside. He has pursed lips
and narrow eyes, looking aloof, as expected of a guy who hardly
smiles. Many of my friends said this fucker kept pulling a face at
them. I told them countless times that it's just his face, but they never
bought it. Pran gives no fuck about the world and always has this
artistic vibe. To be honest, I wasn't surprised when I learned that he
studies architecture. It seemed to be his thing since high school.
"What are you staring at?"
"What do you think?" I ask, grinning. He knits his beautifully–
shaped brows. The scar on his eyebrow tail moves a little before he
presses the cotton ball hard on my wounds.
"Fuck! That hurts."
"You're a pain in the ass."
"I've done nothing. You got shy because I'm staring?"
"Do you want to get your wounds treated or more wounds?" He
challenges me with his deep–black eyes. I surrender and behave.
"I'll appreciate it if you stop messing with me for ten minutes."
"Okay, I know. I'll treat your wounds in return. There's one on
your belly, right?"
"Don't act like you feel guilty."
"I held back for you, Pran. A lousy fighter like you would've
gone to the hospital if you'd fought with the other guys in my gang.
You gotta be strong to be a leader, you know. Want a lesson from
me, nooby? Ouch! Are you using your hands or your feet to treat
me?"
"Then tell me, are you using your ass to speak right now? I'm
gonna tell your sister to buy you a muzzle instead of cotton balls.
What the hell is wrong with you? Are you like this because being
foul–mouthed is one of the engineering subjects? Go tell your juniors
to watch their fucking mouths."
 "You mean the way they tease the girls?" It's the main reason
why his friends were infuriated. Well, architecture girls are pretty. "It's
normal. They do it just for fun. You guys take it too seriously."
"I'm not amused."
"Hey, stress makes you die fast."
"Foul mouths make you die fast as well. Look up."
I obey. Pran takes care of the wound at the corner of my
mouth. It stings a little but bearable. I sweep my eyes over his face
again. His black bangs fall past his brows despite getting trimmed
weeks ago.
"Your hair grows fast."
"Yeah, it annoys me too."
"Want me to tie it?"
"No. Stay still, will you? It's hard to apply the ointment," Pran
mumbles, squeezing my chin in place. It's a pretty rough move, but
not as much as the way he talks.
Honestly, Pran is a good guy to me. Looking back to primary
school days, when the animosities between us began to intensify.
We exchanged blows at every chance we got. One day, Par and I
was playing near a pond in our residential area. I was riding a bicycle
with my sister seated in the back as Pran was also riding his nearby.
We met under the tall Kantali Champa tree and childishly claimed
that it was our personal rest area. I said I owned the place ever since
I was in my mom's womb, but then he argued that his dad reserved it
for him. So, I told him my dad bought my house first. And, He
challenged me to show him the title deed, blabbering nonsense as
he wanted to win. Seriously, I never understand why we kept
hanging out near one another when we hated each other so much.
SPLASH!
The water in the lotus pond splashed. I turned around and saw
a small tire track on the muddy ground. My bicycle was gone. We
were busy pushing each other that I forgot my sister was still on the
bicycle. I remember Par struggled and screamed for help. I froze. I
couldn't swim. My parents always told us not to go near the pond
without any adults around.
SPLASH!
 The water splashed again. Pran's bicycle fell down under the
tree without its owner. My eyes fixed on the two figures moving in the
pond while I tensed up in place, unable to even shout. After a
moment, Pran swam back up, holding Par's both hands, dragging
her to the shore. My sister burst into tears and hugged my enemy
tight.
'Par.'
POW!
It was the first time I let Pran hit me with his wet fist, not fighting
back. He was furious at me way more than Par, whom I'd taken my
eyes off, was.
'Why didn't you save your sister? If I didn't jump in, would you
have let her die?'
'No…'
'You're a damn coward!'
Pran pulled his bicycle up, soaked, water roots still sticking on
his shoulder and head. His back looked smaller as he left. I ran to
Par and embraced her the moment I came back to my senses. The
girl still cried out of fear. I had no idea how Pran had done it. My
bicycle had drowned, never coming back. I saw blood on Par's shirt,
but my sister wasn't injured anywhere. Later, I noticed a small scar
on Pran's eyebrow tail. The permanent wound always reminds me of
a question: Is it the mark of bravery from that time?
'Don't tell Mom, Pat. I'm afraid she'll scold us.'
That was the first sign that made me change how I thought of
him. From then on, our relationship was neither enemies nor best
friends. I love to mess with him, trying to change his grim expression
to stifling a smile or frowning. The latter is more frequent, though.
The room owner puts a bandage on me and it's all done.
Besides my face, I have some bruises on my elbow. For the places
under the shirt, applying some bruise balm for two weeks will do, if I
don't get any more hits on the same spot.
"You can go now," Pran says, standing up ready to chase me
away. I grab his wrist and pull him down to sit on the bed again.
"What about your wounds?"
"I can take care of them myself."
 "Cut the act. As if I've never treated your wounds before."
"You suck at it, Pat."
"I'm not that bad. Take it as my apology. Par told me to
apologize to you."
"I'll tell her you did it, okay?"
"Whoa, you don't have to be so kind." I beam so widely my
eyes are closed. The smile causes an unreadable expression on his
face. "Let me take responsibility for once."
"Stop saying something disgusting like that."
"What? I mean, I should treat your wounds since I hurt you.
What are you thinking? Something perverted?" Pran raises his fist,
but I'm fast enough to seize his other wrist, ending up holding both of
his hands. We're facing each other with him sitting on the bed and
me kneeling on the floor. I pull him close.
"You look cold but hot–headed."
"Only to you."
"I feel special."
"Shut up. Will you treat my wounds or not? If not, then leave. I
have lots of things to do."
"It would've been over already if you'd let me do it in the first
place. Show me the bruise on your belly."
"No!"
He snatches my hand before I can lift his shirt. Pran frowns.
There's no need to be mad over this. "Very well. Let's switch our
places. It's hard to do it while looking up."
The architecture student rolls his eyes. I repeat my words until
he relents. He lowers himself on the floor and looks up, letting me
put some ointment on the corner of his mouth and jaw. I rub my
fingertip on the scar lightly and look at him the way I love to.
 | SCENE THREE |
Pran | talk

"Oh, I've wanted to talk about this."

I say evenly, stirring the instant porridge after pouring hot water
to the dry content in a bowl. The guy, peeling an egg to eat, lifts his
eyebrow at me.
"About?" The short, incomplete question makes my eyebrow
twitch.
"Why did you turn up here again so early in the morning? Didn't
you have enough messing with me last night? I must've failed to
make merit properly this month since I'm constantly being haunted
by an evil spirit."
"Maybe you don't have enough virtue."
"It will never be enough with all my sins. Anyway, don't you
have food at your place? Is that why you always come here to steal
mine?"
"Par left early to submit her homework. There's a loaf of bread
but no condensed milk. I hate jams."
"Do I need to know that?"
"In case you want to have it stored."
That shameless punk replies, amused, and scoops a spoonful
of thick porridge into his mouth. I grimace at the sight of some
undissolved lumps in the spoon.
"Are you such an idiot that you can't so much as stir the
porridge properly?"
"Huh, you observed me. Are you that interested in me?"
"I pity you."
"Adopt me, then."
"No can do."
"Master Pran can definitely provide for poor, little Pat."
 "Poor, little Pat with a freaking big mouth."
Seeing a smug smile forming on his face even when being
insulted, I'm dispirited. I avert my eyes from his face and finish my
hot porridge.
"How many times have I told you to clean after yourself?"
Damn it, I left to take a leak for a moment, and now I'm irritated
again. "You dropped the bowl in the sink without even rinsing it."
"As a nag, you're second only to my sister."
"Wash the crusted bowl yourself."
Pat responds with a grin. The kind of grin that makes me frown
every time. His exasperating expression really gets on my nerves. I
give up talking sense into the fool and turn my attention to the
crusted bowl. I wonder how he was raised up to be this nasty. He
probably leaves right after filling his stomach back at home. And his
sister must take care of him at their apartment.
I glare at him, who's staring back at me, seeing his tied hair
make me feel frustrated even more. Can't he just cut it off? It bothers
me as much as his existence.
"You'll get old fast from all that frowning."
"And you might never get old at all."
"Because I look young, right?"
"You'll die before you can get old."
"Savage."
"Just leave now that you've done eating."
"Kicking me off right after the meal? Cruel."
"Napat." I call his first name as this goofy little shit still jokes
around. I'm not sure exactly when was the first time he started
teasing me with all these ambiguous jests. Sensing my cranky mood,
he lifts his hands to surrender, an irksome smile still plastered on his
face. There has never been a single time he loses this smile when I
look at him.
"What time is your class?"
"Nine thirty. I'll be leaving soon," I reply, hesitating to ask back.
Well, it'll be harder to chase him away if I don't. "What about yours?
Will you leave now?"
"Mine is at ten. I can make it in time even if I leave a little later."
 "But I'm going now. Go back to your room."
"Unlocking the door is a hassle. Give me your key. I'll lock the
door before I leave."
"Why would I let a thief like you stay in my room alone?"
Knock, knock.
Pat swallows the following words. We both turn our heads to
the door after the knocking sound cut in our conversation.
"Who is it?"
"Hush." I signal him to be silent. "Not a word."
I peek through the peephole, spotting Wai outside smiling with
his hands in his pockets. I suddenly feel like having a heedache.
Why the hell are you here today?
"Pran, did you wake up?!" he shouts, not just knocking on the
door.
I scratch my head, breathe, and answer, "Yeah. Almost done
dressing up. Why are you here?"
"To remind you to bring the project file. You didn't read my text
nor pick up the phone."
Fuck, it's charged on the bed.
"Okay, wait a minute. I'll be out in a sec."
He utters a response from the other side of the door. I spin
around to pick up my stuff for school. When I see Pat hold out his
hand for the key, I point at his face threateningly.
"I've done nothing," he whispers. "Your friend came here
himself."
"Shut it. Leave in ten minutes once I'm gone."
"Aight, aight, I got it."
"You better do as I say."
"Key, please."
I tsk in irritation when handing the key to him. He takes it, all
satisfied. I glare at him and run to grab a roll of paper and a USB
flash drive, then I shove my wallet and phone into my fanny pack
and put it on. Finally, I step out of my bedroom.
"I'm leaving. Don't forget what I just said."
"I got it. Away in ten minutes."
 I mouth a cuss at the jerk and tell him to hide where the guy
outside won't see. I breathe in nervously and open the door. Wai is
still standing with his hands in his pockets.
"Took you long enough," Wai complains as soon as our eyes
meet.
"Yeah, I was dressing up."
"Did you get everything?"
"Yes, let's go."
He nods and heads to the elevator. When he turns his back to
me, I take a quick glance inside the room. The troublemaker waves
his hand behind the couch. I point my finger to remind him of my
words and follow my friend as if nothing happened.
"How is it?"
Ke asks the moment I step out of the professor's office. We
discussed my topic for quite a while. My gang seems to be the only
people left in the building.
"Good, I guess." I shrug and hop up to sit on a glass table
beside him. "Professor didn't oppose any of my points, saying I could
go on and research further. What about you?"
"She told me to do a SWOT Analysis."
"Huh? Haven't you done it already?"
"I have, but she said it was too shallow," he says bitterly, his
shoulders drooping in weariness. I can't help but chuckle. Before we
continue our conversation, Golf appears with the same expression
as Ke.
"Why the long face, Golf?"
He lifts his eyebrow at me and flops on a chair nearby. "She'd
said my topic was interested last time but didn't look too pleased
about it today. How amusing."
"Professor Chanpen?" Ke asks.
"Yeah. My adviser is goddamn hilarious. Her mood swings
every three days."
"So? Was your topic disapproved?" I query, feeling lucky that
my adviser is stable, not unreasonably changing her mood out of the
blue. Getting approval in the first meeting just to be turned down
later is nowhere near entertaining.
 "I don't know. I was told to find more case studies. You must've
nailed it, right, Pran?"
I'd be lying if I denied it, but I'd look too proud if I admitted it. "I'll
probably be able to study the model in a few days."
"Damn, I'm jealous of your brain," Ke groans next to me. He
leans his back on a board and glances his desperate eyes up at the
ceiling. "I wanna crack your skull open and devour your brain."
I laugh. "When's Wai coming, though?"
Golf sighs. "In a while, I think. Chanpen sure takes her time for
each student. It's his turn after mine."
"It's gonna be long, then."
"Well, he whispered to me to ask you guys if you want go to the
bar close to the uni together. He wants some drinks tonight."
"Comforting his heart with booze again."
Having said that, we actually haven't been drinking for around
a month. We were swamped with projects as soon as the semester
started and busy collecting data for the thesis topics to submit to our
advisers. It takes four years to get a bachelor's degree in
Architecture here, a year faster than other universities. As a result,
the amount of work is no joke. Some courses are shortened and
packed with intensive content. Our heads are filled to the brim with
lots of things, some useful, some not. But everything is counted as
points and grades, essential to the total score and credits.
That's why we've been sighing a lot that our noses are about to
fall off since the beginning of our fourth year. Problems occur every
day. Aside from the endless gang fights, the thesis is just as terrible.
I'm on the verge of diving head–first into the solid ground every time
I've talked with my adviser about my topic.
Getting disapproved by the adviser hurts more than being
beaten up.
"Cheers!"
CLINK!
"What are we clinking glasses so many times for?"
"To the misery of my thesis, fuckhead."
Wai answers Golf after shouting and slamming his glass. I was
worried the glass would break in his hand and stopped playing along
since the previous round.
"Why are you so upset? My topic hasn't been approved as
well," Golf, who has the same adviser, murmurs, and chugs down
the booze.
"Can I change an adviser? She gives me fucking constant
headaches. All our meetings ended with different results." Wai's eyes
turn red. Despite showing up last, the alcohol in his blood is higher
than everyone else at the table. "I wish I got your adviser, Pran."
"Luck wasn't on your side." Looking back to the time we drew
lots for our assigned advisers at the beginning of the semester, I
can't hide my smile. When Golf's and Wai's codes were put in
Chanpen's group, they almost collapsed and rolled around on the
floor.
"You wouldn't understand. At least Ke's adviser is all right.
Mine's the worst."
"I think there's something worse than that," Ke says calmly. I
turn and see him frown at the opposite side. I follow his gaze and
almost jump up.
Pat and his gang enters the bar, and our eyes meet inevitably.
He grins and blows a kiss to me provokingly. Recalling the signature
smile of the person who couldn't even cook his instant porridge
properly this morning, my head hurts. Do all engineering students
possess vexing nature?
"My mood's already sour. Now my blood pressure just got high
at the sight of them," Wai mumbles, mixing his drink.
"Come on," I warn. "They're always like that. Let's enjoy our
drinks and ignore them."
"If they don't mess with us first," Wai grunts. He's really cranky
today. Worried, I glance at Pat, asking him to make sure his friends
behave, and don't set free the wild animals in you just yet. I'm sick of
treating any more wounds.
"Ouch, fuck!"
I cuss aloud in aggravation as I slowly lay down on the couch.
The wound on the corner of my mouth stings.
As expected, we couldn't hold back in the end. We clash
without fail whenever we encounter each other or stay in the same
area. The teases and jokes from their foul mouths only added fuel to
the fire.
'Isn't it a bit lonely with only four of you?'
'Do you want us to join in?'
'I wonder if architecture boys are as tantalizing as the girls.'
Sentences after sentences were spouted nonstop. Wai was
already particularly moody, so he got provoked more quickly than
usual. Before we knew it, a bottle flew and crashed in the middle of
the other table.
Click.
I heave a sigh, hearing a tongue–clicking sound from the
outside of the room, knowing too well who made that familiar sound.
I frown harder when my temples throb as I rise. The punches and
alcohol make it hard to even sit up. I've lost the energy to put up with
the asshole out there.
Knock.
Ugh! So annoying!
CLICK!
"What now?"
I ask even though I haven't seen his face. But when I yank the
door open, I pause. The leader of the foul–mouthed engineering
gang from an hour ago stands there, carrying a huge pillow and a
tattered plush bunny.
"What do you want?" I query, getting paranoid.
"Par banned me from our place."
"So?"
"Because you gave me more wounds."
"Didn't you do the same to me? Don't make me say who
started it."
"Not me. I didn't start anything."
"Then, who?"
"Gon started it."
"Go away. Just sleep in front of the door since your sister won't
let you in."
"You hurt me. You gotta take responsibility."
"What the hell?"
 "Let me crash here."
"Fuck off."
I knit my brows and cuss at him, short and clear. The bulky guy,
holding a plush bunny like a child, stands still. If something has to
move, I guess it's going to be my foot.
"Bye."
I say and reach for the doorknob to close the door. A tan arm
blocks me in an instant. The pillow falls down, but Pat uses his knee
to secure it in time, fortunately.
"What now?"
"There are mosquitoes outside."
"Take some mosquito repellent and go to sleep."
"Is there an edible mosquito repellent these days?" He
pretends to be surprised. I roll my eyes.
"I'm not in the mood to play with you."
"Huh? We haven't played anything."
"What a pain."
"You're standing here and telling me off." What kind of trick is
he trying to pull now, putting on that expression? "Do you want your
friend to spot me carrying a pillow and begging you like a husband
getting kicked off by his wife?"
"You…!"
"Shush." He shakes his head and shushes me when I'm about
to curse him. "It's late. People will come out to check on us if you're
noisy."
He takes the chance when I'm flustered to slip inside. I turn
around just to see the shameless jerk already chilling out on the
couch.
"Sleep here then, but no blanket for you. You won't freeze to
death anyway since your skin's thick like a bull."
"I can use yours."
"Are you dreaming?"
"I don't mind sleeping on the same bed."
"But I do."
"Then undo it."
"Wanna get kicked in the face?"
 Pat cackles and grabs the remote control to turn on the TV
without asking, acting like he owns this room. I wonder where he
gained this amount of shamelessness from.
"Go take a shower. Don't worry about me."
I roll my eyes again because the guy before me shows no sign
of common sense.
I gaze at this hooligan and his dirty plush bunny, assuming it
must've never been washed before. I don't remember when he
began to be clingy to me instead of cursing my dad every time we
met.
Honestly, Pat would be pretty attractive if he got rid of all his
traits. His playful vibe and friendly, smiling face aren't so bad.
However, including his aggravating, nasty, and indolent sides and his
lack of common sense, he becomes the creature that I don't even
want to spare a glance at.
Despite the hate, we grew up together. Despite the insults,
we've never been far from each other. Despite the physical fights, I
was always the one treating his wounds. To say we've been an
inseparable pair since our past lives…is not exaggerating at all.
 | SCENE FOUR |
Pat | talk

I like the atmosphere in Pran's room.

The sunlight hits my eyes as the blackout curtains are tied to a
side of the window, even though I made sure to draw them before
going to bed. The AC has been turned off, but the fan is still working.
I turned the temperature down to 20 degrees Celsius last night while
waiting for Pran to finish showering. On a six–foot bed lie only me
and my fragrant plush bunny I cuddled all night. The guy, who kicked
me off the mattress over and over again, who eventually gave in to
my effort to climb back up, and let me sleep on the bed,
disappeared. His pillow has gotten cool, no warmth, leaving only his
scent. This points out that he left a long while ago.
He went to the uni and didn't care to tell me.
I pull the plush bunny into a hug and nuzzle it. I don't
remember where or when I got this plush bunny. But before I knew it,
it became my comfort object. I washed it every week at first and
extended the schedule once its ears looked worn. It got patched
countless times but still looks good. The plush bunny smells different
today. I know because I sniff it every day. Yes, it's the same scent as
the one on Pran's pillow and blanket.
"You gave it a scornful look, but you must've hugged it at night.
That's why it has your smell on it."
I talk to Fragrant and bite its ear. I love how rabbits have long
ears that I can nibble. The color faded, unlike the first time I got it.
Well, it now has a classic ashy color. People are into vintage stuff
these days anyway.
I like the atmosphere in Pran's room.
Let's go back to this topic after I've rolled around on this large
bed to my heart's content. On a shelf lie a house model and his well–
arranged textbooks. Most furniture pieces are provided, yet the
artistic guy like Pran still managed to organize this simple room to be
more comfy and appealing than anywhere I've ever crashed. He's an
organized guy. He washes the dishes after meals and sweeps the
floor every night. Maybe it's because of his projects that require
sawing wood strips and cutting acrylic. Since the process dirties the
floor, he needs to clean up before starting to work. On the contrary,
I've never dirtied my room, so there's no need to clean it up.
Okay, I admit it. Another thing that makes this room appealing
is Pran.
I know I'm a lonely guy. Besides being a gentle person and
clingy to the plush bunny named Fragrant, I am an extrovert. Par's
not. I used to share a room with Gon in the building two alleys away.
But when Par got into the same university, I moved to live with her
around a year ago. Pran had always lived here. I swear I didn't mean
to get a room next to his door on purpose. But, Par had this one
condition. Since she had grown up now, she demanded her personal
space. And, the only available apartment with two separate
bedrooms was this one. The way I've spent each day close to Pran
is merely fate.
There's a limit to my loneliness. The longer Par keeps to
herself, the lonelier I feel.
Well, since God sent me right next to Pran's door, it should be
fine if I sleep over at his place a few days a week to chase my
loneliness away.
Pran's fridge is full of all kinds of food, like instant porridge,
eggs, instant noodles, milk, bacon, and bread. No condensed milk. I
told him to store it. I hope he knows what he should buy before
coming back this evening.
His apartment has one bedroom and an open kitchen
connecting to the living room and the dining area. I spot a nonstick
pan hung peacefully on the wall and hear a growling sound from my
stomach. Since there is no condensed milk, and my cooking skills
aren't so awful, I decide to make fried instant noodles. It's not perfect
yet edible. The dish works as a meal before I return to my apartment.
I'll bring my toothbrush and blanket here tomorrow so that I won't
have to go back and forth. Pran's shower cream smells nice, cool
and fresh. When I sniff my armpit, it clears my nose better than Par's
floral–scented shower cream.
"Pat, why didn't you eat at the cafeteria today? You missed the
chance to see Mint from Arts. She had lunch at Engineering
Cafeteria today."
I took a nap on a long wooden table during the late afternoon
class. It’s been half an hour since the lecture started when Gon and
the other guys sneaked in. They came to our spot whispering to one
another.
"It's fucking hot out. Like hell I'd come at noon."
"Your loss," Jor, another friend of mine, chimes in. I rise up and
put my chin in the palm of my hand, then I look at the letters on the
projector screen and scrunch up my nose. The Mint, they mentioned,
is a former Princess of Arts, whom I dated for some time. We grew
distant due to my frivolity. "She's prettier than when dating you."
"Yeah?"
"You're regretting it, right? I told you to take good care of her,
but you wouldn't listen. Otherwise, you two would've been a thing."
"She's annoying," I speak plainly. Mint is cute but too
demanding. "She'd gone to the uni on her own just fine. But when we
were dating, I had to give her a ride."
"You gotta put some effort in if you want a girlfriend. Don't you
know how to put on a fa็ade?"
"Who said I wanted one?" I shrug. It's too much work. "Make a
move yourself if you want her."
"She likes you, not us. Are you in this evening, though? The
bar."
"We might bump into Pran and his gang." I'm tired of fighting
with him, but we swing at each other every time we meet like a
tradition. These fuckers are troublemakers. I can't stop them, or else
I'll be labeled as a traitor. "Should we go to another place?"
"Why do architecture students drink every day? I heard they
have tons of projects."
"They do." It slips out of my mouth, and I go quiet. I almost told
them that Pran would treat his wounds and work on his projects after
the fights. Like last night, he went to bed nearly at dawn. He wouldn't
have stopped kicking me if he hadn't felt burnt out. "What about your
projects? We wouldn't graduate if you kept drinking like this."
"Ugh, weren't you the one asking us to drink together the other
day? Now that you don't feel like it, you're using projects as an
excuse."
"I used up most of my allowance this month."
"Pat, you shithead, don't talk like I have no idea what your
parents do." Gon, you disrespectful piece of shit. "Let's go tonight.
I'm craving booze."
"Booze or girls?"
"Don't talk like you don't know me. Please, Pat, accompany
me. Girls swarm around us when you're present."
"Okay, okay. Let me see my adviser first. Got a meeting at
five."
"Revision? You said the concrete testing went well."
"I don't know. I wasn't the one making this appointment. My
adviser was. Bonehead."
I smack every one of them. A girl in front of us turns her head
and gives us a look because we're too loud. I smile and wink at her,
and she rolls her eyes wearily.
"You charming boy," Jor says, thinking the action indicates
shyness. I've been with Pran for a long time, and he often gave me
this weary look. It must be shyness, I'm sure.
"I've done nothing."
According to the new Alcoholic Beverage Control Act, alcohol
can only be sold three hundred meters away from the educational
institutions. Therefore, the bars in front of the university were moved
further away out of courtesy. My close friends and I switch from
place to place regularly. Our most regular bar is the one located
behind the university, where Pran and his gang frequent. Great
music. Gorgeous girls. Easy to visit. Nothing can be more inviting. I
don't know if Pran will show up today, but I should avoid a collision. I
can give him a call, though he rarely picks up. We're similar: It looks
like we're gang leaders, but we never lead anyone into fights. We're
pretty chill and down for everything. Before I knew it, I'm already at
the bar. When I say we're the leaders, I mean Pran is the smartest
one. His friends listen to his words. On the other hand, I am the most
physically powerful, so my friends need me in every fight. When
things turn ugly, Pran is the first one who pulls himself together. And
I calm the guys down if Pran gives me a sign.
Matter–of–factly, the gang fights between architecture students
and us fall out because patriarchy teaches us to prove our worth with
strength. You can count it as working out since we don't actually hate
each other to the point we wish the other party dead. At least I'm the
one afraid to be put in jail.
"So you're hiding here."
I'm greeted by a high–pitched voice. A girl I talked to for the
first time followed me out when I left to smoke outside the bar. Today
is quite over–the–top because Jor stumbled across his high school
friends. They're science students, and this girl is one of them.
"Hmm? Why did you come out here? It smells of cigarettes.
You should go back inside."
"I'm here to chat with you. Hard to do that inside. Eit and the
guys kept teasing me."
"Well, it's because you're so pretty, Nat." I crack a flirting smile,
sweeping my gaze from her orange lips to her strapless top. Gon
and the others went crazy over this girl. "How have I never seen you
at the uni? It's ridiculous. You're so pretty."
"How haven't you? I knew you, Pat. We met once at the
cafeteria, but you were playing a game. I even asked Jor who his
handsome friend was."
"Oh, why didn't you ask me yourself if you wanted to know
me?"
"I didn't know if you were single or not." She says with a smile. I
return a smile back at her, wrap my arm around her slim waist, and
pull her close. I kiss her rosy cheek, and it causes the burning in my
nose. It's the scent I hate. Probably the smell of perfume mixing with
the alcohol she had. So, I pull back. "You're one impatient guy."
"Don't you like it?" I lift my eyebrow. It's normal for a guy in his
reproductive age. However, unlike my friends, I'm not too
enthusiastic about it. If she's down for it, I am too. If she's not, it's
fine. But I can't stand the strong smell of perfume. I have a sensitive
nose, so I dread strong scents of everything.
"Give me your number."
"I'll give you my LINE." That way, I can block her. She's not my
type, too aggressive. Playing with her a bit to hone my skills is all
right. If I reject her, I might end up entering the monkhood with Pran.
"You won't give me your number. Do you have a girlfriend
already?"
"No, why would I go out drinking if I had one?"
"Well, who knows?"
"You can ask Jor."
"I'll believe you, then. You can't tell me later that you have a
girlfriend." Whoa, this one is dangerous. The siren in my head goes
off. She's stunning and sexy, but I'm scared. I'm possessive of my
single life. "LINE it is. Show me the QR code."
I let her scan my QR code on the phone. After a moment, I
have one more friend added to the list. Nat sends me a sticker, still
not returning inside.
"Do you smoke?"
"No, I don't like it."
"Wait for me inside, then."
"I can wait. I'm afraid you'll run off with someone else."
I bark a laugh before sucking on my cigarette one last time. I
leave the remains on the sand above the stainless trash bin next to
me.
"Let's head back."
Shit, I fucked up. Totally fucked up.
I left the bar at around two in the morning. Jor took a cab and
saw Gon home, followed by me. In short, I went out to drink and met
Jor's friends. Nat, a varsity cheerleader, was one of the group. She
challenged me to drink pure alcohol and beer. As it turned out, I was
fucking wasted and puked two times in the bar restroom. When I was
about to leave, she asked me to crash at her place nearby.
Fortunately, Jor opposed the idea, saying Par would rail at us, and
dragged me with him. I could go to Jor's place, or Gon's, anywhere
but girls'. Par has been strict about this since my high school days.
Back then, I had a girlfriend and lost a large sum of money for her
brand–name products.
You're stupid, Pat. You never know who approaches you for
money.
I remember the incident so well. I didn't cry, just gloomy. Par
warned me several times about that girl, but I paid no mind. My ex–
girlfriend and I eventually had a big fight and I wanted to end things
with her. She then gave me an offer: She'd only break up with me if I
paid her ten thousand. Whoa, it opened my eyes. The relationship
could be sold off for only ten thousand baht, cheaper than the
Hermes belt I was wearing.
"Can you go up on your own? Want me to take you there?"
"It…It's all right."
The thing is, Par will scold me anyway, coming back in this
state. I can't crash at my friend's place as he suggested because I
left Fragrant at Pran's. It feels strangely empty when I don't hug it to
sleep. Gon knows about this and didn't ask twice. I told only a few
people about my plush bunny.
"Text me when you're home."
"Okay."
"Oh, Nat is dangerous. You better stay away from her."
"I don't want her."
"It seems like she wants you, though. I'm friends with both of
you, so this is all I can say. Will you remember my words when you
sober up?"
"I will. Bye, get home safe."
I get out of the bright pink taxi cab. Good thing I'd emptied my
stomach, so there was nothing left coming out. The driver said one
sentence, 'Five hundred every time you throw up.' It sobered Gon
and me up completely.
The elevator slowly climbs up and stops at my floor. The hall is
silent at two in the morning. I support myself by placing my hands on
the wall whenever the world tilts. I pause at the next door and utter a
knocking sound. The light shining on the floor through the door gap
means Pran hasn't gone to bed yet. He must be working on his
project.
 He doesn't open the door right away. I repeat the sound until
the room owner finally turns the doorknob. Again with that scowling
face. No matter how bright my smile is, I still fail to put him in a good
mood.
"Sweet Pran."
"Go to your room if you're drunk."
"Fragrant is on your bed."
"That shabby thing?"
"It's Fragrant," I repeat. How could you call someone's
possession shabby? Rude. You're not as cute as you look at all. "I'm
sleepy. Let me in. Why are you blocking the way?"
"Go back to your room."
"Let me crash heeeere," I whine and lean forward to hug him.
Pran pushes me away immediately, making me fall backward. I seize
the edge of the door in time, fortunately.
"What the hell is wrong with you?"
"It was just a hug. Let's hug. Show me. How's the wound on
your face and belly? Mine is getting better."
"Shit, are you out of your mind when you're drunk? Wait here.
I'll get your stuff."
"No, I'll crash here. Par will tell me off if I go back right now."
"Why did you get this drunk in the first place?"
"You're worried." I giggle, but he's not amused. "A girl got me
drunk."
"Idiot."
"But I've preserved my virginity for the night. Wanna prove it? I
didn't like the perfume. It hurt my nose. Fragrant smells better. Your
pillow also smells nicer."
"Are you a pervert, sniffing my scent?"
"Let me smell you closely." I dart forward and hug him again.
When my nose touches his ear, he slams his knee in my stomach.
The pain makes me bend down. The attacker doesn't feel guilty, only
frowning.
"Disgusting," Pran snarls. He turns around and walks inside. I
trail after him, and he points at me with his chin. "Who allowed you to
come in?"
 "Don't be stingy. I already slept with you last night. If you keep
arguing with me, you won't be able to get your work done."
"You know what? Instead of working on my project as soon as I
was home, what did I see after opening the door? Dirty dishes, a
crusty pan, food scraps all over the countertop, a messy blanket, and
instant noodles packaging flew around, leaving crumbs everywhere."
I was in a hurry this morning. I wobble, feeling a little guilty.
From what Pran described, it means he had to clean his room before
he could start working on his project.
"I'm sorry. There was no condensed milk for me to eat before
going to the uni."
"Still blaming me? Get the hell out of here."
"Are you mad at me just because I messed up your room?"
"I'm mad because you don't feel guilty."
"My wife, I did wrong."
"Who's your fucking wife?! Still joking around, huh?! You stayed
at my room, slept on my bed, ate my food, and used my water and
electricity. You should be considerate of me, not being a shameless
bastard."
"I know, I know." I surrender. I teased him a little, but he got all
crabby. "You're acting like a wife kicking her husband off as he
doesn't help her do the chores."
"Still at it?"
"I'm sorry," I say quickly, or else I'll get another lecture.
Receiving the apology, Pran calms down.
"And?"
"I'm really sorry. I won't mess up your room again."
"That was one last time. I've cleaned up everything. If you dirty
my room again, I'll wait until you come and deal with it yourself, got
it?"
At least that means I still have a chance to be here. I nod,
trying to look dispirited for his sake. He might be happy if I reflect on
my behavior a bit more.
"One more thing. What's with the toothbrush, the towel, and
your workshop shirt in my closet?"
 "Just in case. Your shower cream smells good. I don't like the
flower scent Par bought."
"Buy one yourself."
"I'll help you with the water and electricity bills."
"You think my family can't afford them?"
"I know your family is filthy rich, but I want to be with you," I tell
him straightforwardly. I like Pran's vibe. I feel comfortable around
him. "I'd fight with Par if I went back now. I don't want to fight with
her, afraid she won't love me. You know…"
"All right, all right, quit blabbering." My Pran yields every time I
talk this way. He sighs and gets over this argument. "If you want to
stay here, go wash your hair, or my bed will smell terrible."
"Yeah!"
"You're acting like a kid. And don't let me see you being drunk
again. It's annoying."
"Yes, sir," I promise and move closer for a hug, but he points a
finger at my face.
"If you hug me again, I'm gonna draw blood out of your head."
I laugh at the room owner, who's returning to build his model.
Who says Pran is scary? It's all an act. Look at him. He relents when
you beg him a bit.
Come to think of it, he's really cute…
My Pran.
 | SCENE FIVE |
Pran | talk

Even though I just scolded him a few days ago, this shameless,
nasty asshole still hasn't reflected on himself.
Peeking at the culprit, I heave a sigh. I place the cutter and
bagasse down and speak in a low voice, trying to draw attention
from the rascal on the couch. He's playing on the phone with the
plush bunny in his embrace.
"Pat."
"Hmm?" he murmurs, still not looking up from the device in his
hand.
"Pat."
"Hmmmm?"
"Napat!"
"Whoa!" Getting shouted at, he's startled and turns his
panicked face to me. "Why did you shout? It startled me."
"How many times have I called you?"
"Hot–headed."
"My head's been cool for an hour already."
I frown and nod at the food and snack dishes that have been
emptied for an hour. The guy, who had the food, left it like that until
it's gotten crusty. I've seen them there for a while, and he's showed
no sign of getting up to clean it. Now I finally lost my patience.
"Get up and wash the dishes right now."
"I'll do it in a minute. Playing a game."
"Wash the dishes, then you can play the game."
"Let me deal with this one first. I'm so close to encountering the
boss…Hey!"
"I'm confiscating it."
 I used the chance when he was focusing on the screen and let
his guard down to snatch his phone. The phone owner screams as I
lock the screen.
"That's my new record, Pran!"
Pat kicks a fuss like a child, but I don't care. I put the phone
down beside me and continue building the model. The immature guy
mumbles cuss words and sits near me.
"What the hell?" I glance at Pat and ask in a plain voice while
he's staring at me.
"What are you doing?"
"Do I look like I'm washing the dishes?"
"No, there's no water and bubbles."
"Stay away. I'm working, not playing around."
"Can I help with the cutting?"
I narrow my eyes warily. What now? A lazy guy like him offers
help? Did he eat something strange? I hope he didn't eat food off the
floor.
"Are you possessed?"
"Let me help. And you wash the dishes in exchange."
I sigh wearily, knowing Pat was up to something. He would
never offer to do anything for free.
"You eat, you wash."
"You know I hate doing the dishes."
"You never like making anything clean."
"But I like your shower cream."
"Go to hell."
I cut short, and the punk goes quiet. I can tell without looking
up that Pat is plotting something. He won't give up so easily.
"Let me do the cutting for you. You've been doing it since the
evening that your fingers got all red. Moreover, do you trust me
enough to let me do the dishes? How can you know if I clean up the
oily part and all bubbles thoroughly? They're your dishes, you know.
You have to use them."
Why the hell wouldn't you wash the dishes thoroughly?!
"Just cutting on the pencil lines. I can do that much."
 I heave another long sigh since he's still talking. I put down the
cutter and look at the guy with an exasperating grin.
"Cut this pile first. Don't push too much pressure on it. Bagasse
is fragile. When you're done, assemble these two piles. The example
is next to you. Don't mess up."
"You can count on me," he exclaims before I finish talking. He
rises and drops into my spot the moment I stand up.
Pat's frivolous behavior aggravates me sometimes, though I
don't know why I can't be mad at him for real. It could be the never–
fading smirk. No matter how hard I lash at him, he always responds
with a beam. And, it calms me down even before I get furious with
him.
I watch him for a few moments then turn to the couch. I take
the stained plates in weariness. How did he scatter food scraps all
over the table? He's the nastiest guy on earth. I grab some napkins,
wet one of them, and wipe the stickiness off the table.
Pat is right. If I let the nasty moron handle this, I'd be greeted
with a grimy table and line of ants tomorrow. The thought almost
knocks me out.
"Pat!"
"Hmmm?" The clueless guy looks up as if expecting a
compliment. "I'm fast, right?"
I scowl and open my mouth, but I can't find the right word. I
washed the dishes and wiped the sink for only a minute, and Pat
could cause such a disaster?!
"What the fuck are you doing?!"
"Working on your project, of course. I copied the example
perfectly." He lifts up the assembly model I left and his piece to show
me.
"Where are they similar? Look at the glue oozing out of the
joints and the black stains. Do mine look like that?"
"But they're the same shape."
"It can't be dirty! Model cutting is a delicate job, not half–
assed." I'm so done with his carelessness. "Forget it. Get up. I'll do it
myself."
 "What the hell? I've put so much effort making this much. None
of them are at least fine?"
"Open your fucking eyes, check them in comparison, and think
for yourself if it's good or not."
"They look the same at first glance."
"Just go to bed."
"The room owner's still up. How can I go to bed?"
"Someone like you knows how to be thoughtful? That's new for
me." He never reflects on himself, let alone being thoughtful. I eye
the jerk and see the happy face smiling still. "Stay away from me."
"Come on, I've tried and failed to do it as you did. Don't be
mad."
"What can you do, anyway? You make up excuses because
you don't want to wash the plates you eat off. If you know you can't
do it well, why don't you wash them until they're clean? You're only
good at messing up my room."
"I'm sorry."
I halt upon hearing his apology. And with that voice. He's
pulling this trick again, huh? I have no idea who taught him. He's
been putting this begging face on every time I'm irritated.
"Whatever. Go to bed. I'm working."
"I can help with the cutting. I won't touch the glue. This is my
redemption."
"Glue stains aside, I still won't forget the twisted bagasse. You
couldn't even put them together right. With your skills, you shouldn't
offer help to anyone. Go to bed."
The engineering gang leader mumbles to himself and finally
heads to the bedroom, saying he will hug Fragrant in the meantime. I
look at the model parts he built and let out a sigh. It's as dirty as the
builder. Even so, thinking back to how the shameless dude picked up
the tiny pieces of bagasse awkwardly with his big fingers, dipped
them in the glue, and put them together, it's hard to be mad.
I gaze at them for a while before getting up to search for a
small iron box I believe is on the shelf. There are a few paper clips
inside. I take them out and put Pat's useless, crappy model parts
inside instead. I close the box and place it back on the shelf.
 What can I do…? I don't have it in me to throw them away.
"Are you leaving to the uni without telling me again?"
I almost got scared when the guy I thought was sleeping
soundly suddenly spoke as I was going to put on my backpack. I was
about to take off.
"Shit, you scared me. When did you wake up?"
"Since you walked around looking for your stuff."
"Okay. Since you woke up, get the fuck out of here. I'm going to
class."
"I don't have morning classes today."
"So what? Are you going to bury yourself in my bed the whole
morning?"
"Your bed smells good."
As he speaks, he tightens his embrace around his shabby
bunny and buries his face in my pillow.
"Stay away from my pillow. You're dirty!"
"Dirty? I took a shower last night."
"You won't be cleaner even if you shower five times."
"But you've slept on the same bed as this dirty guy for a few
days."
I roll my eyes, sighing, waving my hand to show that I'm too
tired to continue this conversation. When I walk out of the room, Pat
shouts from behind, telling me to study hard. You better say it to
yourself.
"What's up? Look at your dark circles," Wai greets as soon as
our eyes meet. I sit down next to him on the bench on the faculty
building's ground floor.
"Yeah, I got carried away until late at night."
"How's your project?"
"Around fifteen percent done."
"If you're not too meticulous, it'll be done sooner," he laughs.
"Ke and the guys have gone up to the room, queuing to get their
projects checked up. Are you gonna go now?"
"Yeah, let's go. Wanna buy something to eat?"
"I've eaten. Have you?"
 "No." I shake my head. I went to bed late last night and also
woke up late this morning. I had no time to fill my stomach.
"Go find something to eat, or you'll be hungry when talking with
your adviser." And so, I stand up.
"What's wrong?"
Ke asks, noticing that I've anxiously rummaged in my backpack
a few times.
"I can't find the thumb drive with my saved work."
"Huh? Did you bring it with you?"
"I'm not sure. I was busy with the project data this morning."
"Search your back carefully, it might be in there. Or you wanna
go back to your place and check if it's there?"
"That case, I'd be allowed to go home by the time the building's
closed." Judging from the long queue, getting in line again is the last
thing I'll do. The worst–case scenario is my adviser leaves before my
turn. I glance at the clock and frown. "I'll be right back."
[Well, hello. Are you worried about me? I'm having breakfast.
Be at ease.] I almost cuss out loud, hearing the irritating words once
he picked up. Knowing I need him to do me a favor, I swallow the
word down my throat.
"You haven't left, right?"
[No, but I'm about to. What's the matter?]
"Go to the desk in my bedroom. I'm not sure if a black thumb
drive is there."
[Wait a sec.] He replies. I hear a clattering sound. A few
moments later, I finally get the answer. [It's there, under a piece of
paper.]
"Bring it to me at my faculty. Don't get caught."
[Hmmm? Why do I have to see you at your faculty? Aren't you
afraid someone will spot us?]
"Shut up. Will you come or not? If you don't, do not show your
face in my room ever again."
[Man, I was kidding. Don't be mad. I'll bring it to you.]
"Keep a low profile. Don't get caught no matter what."
[I know, Pran. You keep repeating it. It makes me want to shout
your name with a megaphone in front of the building.]
 "Try it if you want to get stomped into the ground."
He barks a laugh and hangs up. I shake my head wearily,
feeling like I've made a mistake.
After waiting for ten minutes, my phone rings. It shows the
number I dialed moments ago. I tell Wai I'll go to the restroom and
run down the stairs, heading to the building at the back, where Pat
said he was waiting. Running past the wall, I see him sitting there
with the same annoying smile.
"I've brought your possession, Master Parakul."
"Give it to me and go back to your faculty."
"What? Now that you have your stuff, you're kicking me off right
away."
"Still joking around?" I whisper through gritted teeth. "Someone
will see us. Give it to me."
"Why are you so afraid? If someone spots us, we can just
punch each other and you can say I started it."
"Why do you want to get hurt?"
"You're worried about me."
"I'll call my friends right now."
The guy before me sniggers and passes the thumb drive to me
obediently. I take it without thanking him. I know I should, but the
words just won't come out when I open my mouth.
"What? I brought your stuff here, and you won't even thank
me?"
Because I know someone like him will ask for a favor in return.
"Compared to how I cleaned up your mess, this is nothing."
"I don't care. You owe me, Parakul."
"I shouldn't have asked you for help."
"But you did. I'll be off now. Study hard."
I tsk and frown, waving my hand to chase him away. Does he
enjoy it when I'm irritated? Is that why he laughs merrily every time
he's successfully driven me up the wall?
"See you tonight."
I knit my brows even harder when he uses such a gentle voice
and blows a kiss at me before leaving. I suddenly get chills.
Disgusting!
 | SCENE SIX |
Pat | talk

Pran is such a great guy.

I don't know how many times I've said it, but Pran always acts
so cute to me. For one thing, I got up this morning and found a loaf
of bread and condensed milk on the dining table. No trace of it being
opened or anything. It means the room owner bought it especially
just for me, a person who he storms at every day. Like a routine. His
nagging is the first thing I hear in the morning, and the last thing I
hear at night. Well, even though it's as if he's been programmed to
lash at me, Pran is still kind to me.
"Wash the spoon after eating. Don't spill the condensed milk.
You can do this much, can't you?"
I read the message written on a yellow note. Pran's handwriting
is a little bit neater than mine. But all right, no problem. I'll relent and
touch the sponge today, unwillingly so, because I hate doing the
dishes more than anything else. But since Pran is so cute, it'll be
nice if I behave to make him happy for once.
"Why didn't you text Nat back?"
After classes, Gon and I left the faculty building and fled to the
university library to feel the cool air. Both of us needed more
reference books for our theses, or else we wouldn't show up at such
a civilized place. I searched for the title from the archives, took it,
and rested at the long table. The library is quiet today. It's super
crowded during the exam week.
I hang out here only once in a while, depending on where the
girls go to study. Everybody knows these angels can help these full–
grown men who only drink and have fun like us to graduate on
schedule.
"Pat."
 "What?"
"I'm asking you why you didn't text Nat back."
"Can't be bothered," I answer, stretching my legs and resting
them on the opposite chair. Jor sighs. He just found his reference
book and reached here about the same time as me.
"If you don't like her, tell her straightforwardly. You're making
her fluster this way. She asked my friends and me about you. And
you're too unpredictable, suddenly showing up at the cafeteria one
day and disappearing another day. Where did you go after classes
yesterday? Nat said she couldn't find you at the internet caf้ nor the
bar."
"Whoa, did she have to go that far? I'm freaking hot."
"Pat, you fucker, quit joking."
"What am I supposed to do, then?"
"Deal with it quickly, or she might bother your sister," Jor warns
in worry. This is more troublesome than I expected. But, what can I
do? I believe I've made it clear I'm not into her.
"If she bothers Par, she'll get yelled at real good." Gon knows
Par well. She saves no faces. My family is wealthy and the children
are pretty problematic. I mean, Par and I fear nothing. We never start
a fight, yet we're ready to crush whoever asks for trouble. Our
parents clean up our mess after every incident. I know it's awful, but
we can't just let others bully us, and run desparately to our mom
asking her for help.
"You shouldn't have acted like you were interested in her."
"I didn't. I played along out of courtesy. I escaped and Nat
followed me out. What was I supposed to do?" I say honestly. Who
would've thought Nat would expect more of us? "Don't sweat it.
She'll stop looking for me once she finds someone else. Oh."
Catching a glimpse of Pran, the word slips out of my mouth.
The guys follow my gaze, so I slam my fist on the table to draw their
attention.
"I have an errand to run. Wait at the faculty. I'll catch up."
"Wanna play game together this evening or go straight to the
bar?"
 "What the heck? Are we going out again? You guys print out
your own notes or something?"
"Why asking now?" Gon chuckles, and Jor chimes in.
"Did you get a girlfriend?"
"What?"
"You won't drink or play games with us. And you haven't told
me where you went yesterday. You just changed the subject."
"What girlfriend? I have none." Well, Pran is closest to be my
girlfriend. But things won't end easily if I admit I've been spending
time with him. The best solution is to keep silence. I wave my hand
to brush it off. These punks smirk, not buying it. "I'll introduce that
person to you guys if I have one."
"You should have one, Pat. You're one of the Engineering
Princes, yet can't find yourself a girlfriend. Do you know how to use
that thing in your pants?"
"Or do you not like girls?"
These motherfuckers. They're worsening the topic. I ignore
them and clasp the book under my armpit. "I'll borrow this one. See
you."
"Wait, you haven't answered. Are you gay?"
"I can be whatever I want. I'm a grown–up and my own fucking
god. Happy?"
I spin and jog towards Pran's direction. I missed him. Shouldn't
have quarreled with those guys. I get the book issued and leave the
library. I light a cigarette and walk along the curved path leading to
the faculty building. Planted trees line up on the side, along with
small rented shops. The area is crowded during exam week. One
shop contains snacks, copy service, and stationery, an all–in–one
shop nobody can define. I finally spot a tall and slim guy. He's
wearing a school uniform like everyone else, but I can tell who he is
at first glance from the movements when he's holding out cash and
getting his things.
My Pran.
I quicken my pace, ready to jump over the low Ixora bushes
lining up the path to greet him, but suddenly come to a halt. Pran sits
down beside the other familiar guy. They're alone together. Whoa,
this is the first time Pran isn't surrounded by his gang. He's with this
Chinese–looking guy alone.
The dude holds out his hand towards Pran, and he takes it.
That's right! Pran is holding the white monkey's hand the same way
he did when treating my wounds. All right, I see a bandage box. Just
a cut on a finger of a fucking grown man. Can't that monkey do it
himself?
I cross my arms and lean on a pole under the archway. I
remember this anonymous guy. He looks ordinary and plain, not slim
nor fat nor tall, not a fucking thing worthy to be remembered. But I
remember him since he always sticks with Pran, and we meet in
every fight. However, isn't the way they spend time alone and take
particularly great care of one another a bit unfair?
If the other guys in his gang see this, they won't be too
pleased.
But the one surely displeased at this sight is kicking the vexing
Ixora bushes like a lunatic right now.
You damn motherfucker, you're dead meat the next time we
meet.
I don't know who started the tradition where engineering
students and alcohol are a match. Before I knew it, I've become
quite an alcoholic. If it gets worse than this, I might need to seek
help. I hardly get wasted, though. I only do when girls try to make me
drunk and when something bugs me.
I'm not friendly but sometimes fond of flattery. Nat got me real
drunk last time, which made me quite expressive. I'd be handsy with
a flirtatious look all over. Today, on the other hand, I'm put together,
sipping on a beer. Several empty bottles are all over the table in the
blink of an eye.
"What's wrong, Pat?" Gon asks, knowing me well. He's worried
about me as much as knowing I won't say a word. He places his
hand on my shoulder, squeezes it a little, and takes my glass away.
"You've been weird since you left the library. You can tell us
anything, you know."
I shrug. What can I say? I watched until Pran and that punk
stood up while Pran carried all of the books. That Chinese–looking
guy pretended to be strong and snatched some, acting like a
gentleman. Fucking cheesy. What about me? Even though I wanted
to greet Pran, I could only restlessly watch the two being lovey–
dovey as if they were a separated couple from the ten past lives.
"Are you drunk? We'll see you home. That's enough."
"I'm not drunk," I stress every word. Gon stole my glass, so I try
to take Jor's. He pushes my head away but still gives me his glass.
Then he mumbles something to the other guys before nodding.
"Let's call it a day. I think you're definitely drunk."
"Who's fucking drunk? I haven't had much. You guys leave first
if you want."
"The bar will be closed soon," Jor argues. Really? I didn't
notice. "Let's go. Could we have the bill, please? Get ready. I'll give
you a ride."
"No need to. It's a waste of your gas. I can go home by myself.
Just go with Gon. You two go in the same direction."
I reply and put two–thousand baht on the table. We'll calculate
the share tomorrow. With a rough calculation, it shouldn't cost more
than this. We walk out of the bar and see a line of taxi. I choose the
pink one. I want to see Pran quickly and hug Fragrant. And late at
night, I will cuddle Pran without letting him know.
My Pran.
My dear.
Something soft and wet touches my cheek. I feel the cool air
from the AC occasionally. I slowly open my eyes, and the first thing I
see is fur. I blink twice and try to get up on a footpath. The fur just
now was a dirty off–white foreleg. The stinky, soft thing was a dog's
tongue. I was woken up by a dog in front of a convenience store
because I slept in its place.
The unique sound of the top convenience store rings when the
doors open. I sit cross–legged, bedraggled. As I look up, I'm greeted
with a green, orange, and red sign with the number seven and the
word 'eleven' crossing in the middle. The place I've slept in belongs
to the dog, undoubtedly.
My last memory is I took a taxi, got sleepy, and woke up here.
As soon as I fumble for my phone and wallet, they're all gone.
Nothing's left. Shit, the driver robbed me.
It takes a while for me to stand on my feet. I'm much soberer
than when I left the bar but haven't fully come to my senses. The
worker of the convenience store greets me as I enter. Since I was
sleeping in the corner near a trash bin at this hour, no one noticed
me. I'm not upset, even though someone took my money and phone.
But where the hell is the branch of this convenience store located?
"Excuse me, can I borrow your phone?"
"Yes?"
"What's the branch of this place? I was robbed. I want to call
my friend to pick me up."
"Huh?!" The worker seems shocker than me, the victim.
"Should we call the police?"
"It's all right. I just want my friend to pick me up. I'll call the
police tomorrow."
The thing is, I only remember that it was a pink taxi cab, and I
have no idea what time it was. Even the FBI can't find the fucking
taxi for me. I glance at the CCTV in the store. There's no way it
would've captured where I slept.
The only witness is the dirty white dog that licked my face!
"I'm wasted like a piece of trash. And a piece of trash in front of
the CV at that."
Pran was the first person I thought of. He took a cab to pick me
up fifteen minutes after I called him. He looks fed up as usual but still
lets me rest on the couch first.
"Can you get up and take a shower?"
"I'd be knocked out under the showerhead."
"How can you be this drunk? Hold yourself back a bit, will you,
Pat?"
"I know," I say that just to brush it off. The room owner in a tank
top and boxers sighs. He disappears into the bathroom and shows
up with a basin filled with warm water.
"Even if you can't take a shower, you gotta wash off these
black stains on your body if you're gonna sleep with me, got it?"
"Can't be bothered. I'll sleep on the couch."
"Pat."
 "Pran, I'm hungry. Cook something for me."
"What time do you think it is? It's two in the morning! I should
be in bed, not cooking."
I know, but I must've puked in the taxi or something because
my stomach hurts. Pran kneels down, unbuttons my shirt, and forces
me to take it off.
"Sit up properly. I'll wipe your body."
"Do I have to take off my pants?"
"Yes," he answers in a low voice. I obey, throwing off my shirt
and pants, left with tiny underpants covering an enormous monster.
"Aren't they my underpants?"
"I don't know. It was in the drawer. I was in a rush this morning,
so I wore it."
Pran heaves a sigh instead of nagging. He uses the wet white
cloth to wipe my face down to my neck not so gently, but it's probably
effective. My nose is almost wiped off with the fabric.
"Who would be able to stand you, acting this way?"
"You, Pran."
"I'm your friend. I mean a lover."
"I don't want a lover. You are enough for me." I raise my arm so
he can wipe my body comfortably. Pran frowns so hard that I have to
massage the tension away. "Pran, thank you."
"Um."
"You're so good to me."
"Yes, be grateful."
"I bring you nothing but trouble, huh?"
"Yeeees," Pran drags the word out and shakes his face away
from my hand. He's wiped my abdomen, arms, including legs and
feet.
"If I ever have a wife, I'll find someone like you."
"I feel bad for the girl. When will you stop being a burden to
people?"
"I never want to be a burden," I say honestly. Aside from Pran, I
never think of causing trouble to anyone. I love listening to his
nagging. When he's frustrated but still does everything for me, it's
adorable. "I want you to take care of me. It…feels good."
 He goes silent. The cloth is thrown into the basin and I'm still
sitting there half–naked. Pran won't wipe under the panties. But, it's
all right. This is more than enough. "Still hungry?"
"A little, but I'm fine. I can endure it."
"Wait a minute. Don't sleep yet."
I nod. Pran goes to the bathroom to wash the cloth before
coming back to boil the water. He pours instant porridge content into
a bowl and hands it to me. I take it, unintentionally touch the back of
his hands. Pran jerks his hands back and averts his gaze. Suddenly,
I wonder if someone else was sitting here instead of me, would Pran
still be this kind? Pran loves taking care of others, being so kind that
it intrigues people around him.
I am no exception.
"Pran, do you have to be this kind to everyone?"
"Why should I not be?" he asks me back, not understanding
what I truly meant. He plops down on the couch beside me, and I
lean down, putting my head on his shoulder. I can smell his unique
scent, sweet, clean, and dreamy.
"Can't you be kind only to me? I don't like it when you're nice to
others."
"What's wrong with you? Still drunk?"
"I'm being honest and speaking my mind. Pran…" He gives me
a sidelong glance. Thank you for still letting a naked guy lean on
your shoulder when you can effortlessly slam me in the wall and
carry me back to Par. "Pran, I want you to be only mine. I don't like
your friends. I don't like people who are close to you."
"This is nonsense. I'm not your shabby bunny."
"I said this because you're not. If you were my Fragrant, I'd
keep you in my room, letting no one see."
"Are you crazy?" Pran pushes my head away, but I put my
head back on his shoulder. He shoves me again. I put the bowl of
porridge down this time and lean on him once more.
"Can you not pay attention to anyone but me? Can't I be the
only one putting his head on your shoulder like this?"
"Pat, you're out of your mind. Finish the porridge so you can go
to bed. And I'll appreciate it if you're not drunk for a while."
 "Promise me I'm the only important person for you. The most
important."
The room owner gives no response while the sound of the AC
fills the room. I place my hand on his thigh. Pran doesn't brush it
away. I'm at a loss as to why it aggravated me like crazy to see Pran
being nice to someone else, but it was my true feeling. I'm
straightforward and honest, unlike him. And we are totally different
when it comes to speaking our minds. That's why, as I hold his hand,
Pran is still silent.
"I'm really possessive of you."
Pran presses his lips together and furrows his brow, obviously
tense. I want to ease the tension on his face, kissing the frown away,
separating the lips he's biting so hard that I'm worried it'll hurt, with
gentleness.
I want to be good to Pran as much as he is to me.
I hear the sound of a heartbeat, not sure if it's from me or the
guy next to me.
"Pat…"
Before Pran can finish the sentence, I move down to lay my
head on his lap, still holding his hand drowsily. It's because I'm still
drunk and I've been forcing myself awake for quite some time. I'm
not a night owl, like architecture students, and pretty self–centered.
In a split second, everything turns dark. Tonight doesn't end with me
hugging Fragrant. It ends with me kissing the hand I'm holding
tightly, and I float away to the distant dreamland.
The land where I kiss those lips as a promise that I won't let
Pran be close to anyone.
And he will always be mine.
 | SCENE SEVEN |
Pran | talk

I watch Pat sleeping on my lap. His breath is warm and rapid,

probably because the alcohol is still in his blood. I sigh, hearing him
mumble my name. The Pat I know is playful, a pain in the neck,
always smiles, and pretty chill. It's like the sun shines out of him.
Even so, Pat is worrisome. He's not careful and never thinks
anything through. Have fun first and fuck safety.
Every incident affected me. For example, it's what happened
just now. How many people would be so wasted that they got robbed
and left in front of the convenience store? Worse, he was lying there
until a dog licked his face. And I had to go to the trouble to pick him
up in the middle of the night when I could've rested or worked on my
project.
Besides causing trouble, he's gotten more and more childish.
I'm not sure anymore if we're enemies, friends, or have a father–son
relationship. I told him off every day, so much that I couldn't create
enough words to use. As time passed, I was sick of nagging about
the same things since he wouldn't change anyway. The same goes
for me.
Despite how much I'm fed up with this…I still can't ignore him.
Professor's loud claps from the front of the room and the
sudden lit–up room snap me back to reality after an hour of the
lecture about the below–standard sanitary system. I rub my eyes and
stretch to rid the stiffness from my body. I fell asleep by the time the
birds were about to chirp last night and dragged myself to attend a
class at eight. I took off later than usual, busy looking for instant
porridge in the cupboard and making lime juice for the guy on the
couch. He'll have a terrible hangover when waking up.
 That's right. Pat slept on the couch. He didn't shower and I had
no idea what was on his body. Did you think he'd be clean enough to
get in my bed after a few wipes? I was kind enough to pick up
Shabby to stuff it in his chest.
The dirtiest thing I've ever touched is him.
"Will you eat first, Pran?" The image in my head fades away as
Wai's voice brings me back. I turn to see him packing his stuff. "Are
you getting your project checked up today?"
"Probably, but I'll complete the house plan at the library first.
Didn't get it done last night."
"Okay, I'll accompany you. I don't think I'll get the assessment
today, though. Not sure."
"What about Ke and the guys?"
"He's gone with Golf to wait in line for Chanpen's assessment
the moment class was over."
"Oh, yeah?"
"What's wrong? You look absent–minded today. Stressed about
the project?"
"No, I didn't get enough sleep, I guess. I'm sleepy."
"Why don't you go back to your place after the meal? You can
get your project assessed tomorrow evening."
"It's all right. I can do it."
"You sure?"
"Yes." I nod and smile at him.
Waiyakorn is my best friend. We knew each other even before
getting into the university. We studied together and hoped for the
result we expected. On the day of the admission results
announcement, I waited in anticipation in front of a computer with
Wai. I remember the website went down, and some of our friends
headed to the faculty to check the list. With that thought, we got up
simultaneously and took a taxi cab there. We literally jumped for joy
without feeling embarrassed when we found our names.
Our ranks were close as well. I got fourth place and him the
fifth. We study in the same faculty and sections, and we're best
friends. We see each other every day, practically each other's
shadow. Maybe it's that we've been through a lot together that
makes us worried about one another more than normal friends. He's
a good friend of mine, and I also want to be a good friend of his.
"It's been a while since we ate at the main cafeteria. I can't
choose what to have."
I laugh as Wai turns his head back and forth, scanning the long
row of food counters happily. Usually, as architecture students, if we
don't go straight back home or worked on our projects right after
classes, we will stay in the building and wait for the individual
assessment. It's rare for us to visit the main cafeteria like this. It's the
largest cafeteria closest to the library, where students from all
faculties hang out, unlike the faculty cafeteria full of familiar faces.
Even though there are a variety of food to choose from and a
bunch of pretty girls, real eye candy, it's hard to find an empty table.
And the counters that sell super delicious food have such long lines.
We don't have the heart to wait for it.
"You go take a look around. I'll be at the table."
"Huh? You go first. I'll wait here," he says, seated himself
beside me.
"No. It's hot. I don't want to have a meal. I want ice cream."
"Again with your love for ice cream. You don't eat real food and
keep stuffing yourself with frozen sugar."
"Shut up."
"All right, I'll be right back."
I nod and wave him off before stretching my neck in exhaustion
and burying my face in my arms. I almost fall asleep when a cool
and wet thing touching my cheek startles me out of my sleep.
"Hey!"
When my eyes can focus, they land on a white bowl of white–
green ice cream. I glance at the culprit who woke me up so childishly
and glare.
"What the hell was that? It's dirty."
"You're telling me off though I bought it for you. It's the
toothpaste–flavor ice cream you love."
"It's mint." Toothpaste wouldn't taste this good. "Well, thanks."
"Have a proper meal later."
"If I'm hungry, yes."
 "Get the FBS test since you eat it a lot. You might have
diabetes at this rate."
I ignore Wai and open the lid of my favorite ice cream bowl,
happy. The smooth mint–green ice cream is revealed once the paper
lid is off, and I feed myself a big spoonful. This flavor suits the
weather in our country, though most people around me scrunch their
noses every time I chow down ice cream or milk with mint flavor.
They keep comparing it to toothpaste. The refreshing and sweet
taste clears my head, making me forget the messy things in my life
for quite a bit. This is why I'm addicted to ice cream. If I'm frustrated,
a bowl of ice cream calms me down.
"Is it that good?"
"It's my favorite."
"Want another bowl?"
"I'll buy more if it's not enough," I respond to his sarcastic
words and eye his noodles. He's finished it in the blink of an eye.
"Did you eat or suck it? Did your gullet notice there was food coming
down?"
"It's my favorite."
I roll my eyes and have another spoonful. The guy next to me
moves closer.
"Give me a bite."
"What the hell? You hate it, don't you?"
"Let me try again. When you eat it, I always feel like it must
taste fucking delicious."
"It tastes the same no matter how many times you try it. You'll
wrinkle your nose at me again."
"Come on, give me a bite."
I hold the bowl out to Wai, but he just opens his mouth. I sigh
and shake my head, still feeding him quickly.
"Um…" he moans. "Exactly the same."
"On that note, keep it in mind and never ask for some again."
"Then don't make a face like it's so yummy and make me want
to have some. You deceived me."
What, you punk? Am I wrong for loving the taste?
BAM!!
 I almost jumped the moment a half–full glass bottle of water
was slammed on the table, spilling the water inside. Everyone looks
at our direction in shock, including Wai and me.
I glance up at the rude person who pulled the action and see
Pat hovering over us. He's staring at me, his brow knitted. What the
hell is he trying to do now? Why pick a fight at this moment? We're in
the middle of the main cafeteria with tons of people from various
faculties around us.
"What do you want?" I frown, staring back, my voice even.
People seated next to us have gotten up and fled.
"Nothing." His voice goes high in the most annoying way.
Catching Wai shifting, I grasp his arm, and it infuriates Pat even
more that he kicks the chair.
BAM!
"What the fuck is wrong with you? Go run amok somewhere
else. This is a common area, not anyone's territory. Do not start this!"
Wai fumes. It seems to worsen the situation.
"Wai, relax. Let's go."
"Look at him. With so many empty tables right now, he wouldn't
go and sit there. Instead, he's trying to pick a fight. Can't you see
you're soaked in spilled water?"
Wai snarls, irritated, keeping his eyes on the enemy. He then
picks up my shirt.
THUD!
"What the fuck?!!"
"Wai!" That wild dog suddenly shoved Wai. Wai lost it,
shouting, and went in for a fight, so I called my friend's name and
gripped his arm. "We're at the cafeteria. Professors might see us."
Wai snorts in exasperation, swears in his throat, and leaves. I
look at Pat in disdain and follow my best friend, who's making his
way out of the cafeteria entrance.
"Wai!" I shout, calling the upset guy stomping ahead. Finally,
I've caught up. "Calm down."
"I couldn't be any calmer. That fucker asked for trouble. Was he
the one making your stomach bruise last time?"
"Don't fall into his trap. He's like that."
 "I fucking hate his face."
I lick my lips. They're so dry that it starts to hurt. Wai is still
grunting. I distract him by dragging him to the library. Once we're in a
quiet and air–conditioned room and focus on our projects, Wai
seems to really calm down despite his sulky face. Still better than
looking agitated as if possessed like before.
We've spent almost four hours staring at our house plans. We
scribbled and drew on them for a while before searching for
reference books on the shelves, then we returned with a pile of thick
books. We skimmed the pages and sketched on pieces of paper.
With new ideas popping up, we worked on those. And when we ran
out of ideas, we went straight back to the shelves. It continued until
our brains could no longer take it. We are now leaning against the
backrests, spacing out.
"Fuck, my head hurts."
Wai starts. I turn and see him grabbing his head.
"Same here. The plan is still a mess."
"I can't even call it a plan. It's still circles and circles."
"But Golf said Chanpen is doing a group assessment today,
didn't he?" Why are you still here fixing it?
"Right. What can I do? It's still not done," Wai replies, heaving
a sigh, and places his face on the table. "Fuck it. Chanpen takes
forever to assess each work. Some of them probably won't get their
projects checked up."
"Should we leave, then? I don't think I'll go there. It's already
past four."
"Yeah, let's leave."
We pack our stuff in our backpacks, clasp the rolls of paper in
one arm, and get out of the library. I wish to go straight back home,
but as I take a shortcut through the garden in the back, I hear shouts
from behind the Engineering Building and frown. Before I can decide
whether to check it or not, the sight of my junior running, all beaten
up, halts me.
"Hey! What's happening?" Wai asks as the kid approaches us.
"Wai, Pran, my friends are getting beaten over there. I'm
looking for help. Please help them."
 I exhale in frustration. Why do they so keen on causing
trouble? "All right, I'll be right there." I toss my backpack and the rolls
of paper on a nearby wooden table and asks another question.
"What the fuck is it about this time?"
"It's a long story…"
It pains me to hear the junior's voice get softer. It must be our
fault. Not wasting another word, Wai and I take off towards the fight.
We both stop short, spotting the same mad dog from the cafeteria
before standing over another kid from our faculty. Pat snatches his
collar and raises his fist, ready to strike again. Judging from the
bruises on the kid's face, I can tell he got several punches already.
With pent–up anger from before, Wai uses this chance to
charge towards Pat. I'm about to stop him but get interrupted by the
attack from my right. I have no choice but to turn my attention to my
current opponent. I pant, exhausted, losing quite an energy dealing
with the guy who's now collapsed. I turn around, and my eyes widen
at the sight of Pat slamming his fist in Wai's face on the ground.
I pull myself together and rush in to grab Pat's shoulder. He's
either too enraged or doesn't know that it's me since he throws a
punch in my cheek in an instant. The metallic taste of blood spreads
in my mouth. I spit and get back up, ignoring the hands trying to
support me.
As I look up and meet his gaze, Pat seems to have come to his
senses. His expression is undeniably worried, but I pay no mind.
Taking in Wai's state, I grit my teeth. I shove Pat's chest and help
Wai get up. He's barely conscious.
We regularly fight, indeed, but Pat has never been this serious.
Wai is almost knocked out.
"Pran…"
Pat whispers my name, and I pretend not to hear it. I support
my best friend and get him out of here with another junior running in
to assist.
I bring Wai to his place and treat his wounds. Once he's eaten
and taken medicine, and I've made sure there's nothing other than
cracked lips and bruised cheeks, I could finally go home. I'm still
frustrated, but I'm not sure what the cause of this frustration is
exactly.
One thing for sure, I was absolutely taken aback by Pat losing
his head today. Getting hit in the cheek by that hard fist, I was pretty
shocked. It could be that we've never gone all out to the point we get
severely injured. We got a bruise or two, yes, but it'd never been so
violent like today…
Knock, knock.
The two soft knocks on the door drew my attention. It's not a
clucking sound this time. This is actually a hand hitting a door. I take
a deep breath, trying to keep my emotions in check and rising to
open the door.
As I thought, Pat is standing behind the door with a deadpan
face. I hold his gaze and ask in a level voice.
"What do you want?"
"Pran…" he mumbles my name, hand reaching out to touch my
bruised cheek, but I turn away. "I'm sorry."
"Are you here to pick up the bunny?"
"Can I come in?"
"If you ask me, no."
"Pran."
"Wait here. I'll go and get your stuff." I step back and walk to
the couch where the bunny is. Before I can get far, the door is closed
and the other guy tugs my arm. I yank it back immediately.
When our eyes meet, Pat pulls a face, displeased with my
reaction.
"Why do you have to be so upset? Are you mad because I hit
that prick?!"
"Don't act like you don't know what you did, Pat!"
"What the fuck did I do wrong?! Your juniors fucked up this
time. They tried to get my junior's girlfriend drunk so they could do
things to her!"
"So what?! What did Wai do to get beaten up like that?!!"
"He backed up those fuckers and I fought back. What did I do
wrong?!"
"…Then why didn't you strike me like that?"
 "…"
"Why didn't you punch me out of my consciousness?"
"Pran…"
"Get your stuff and leave."
"Are you kicking me out?"
"Yes, I am. We're enemies. Why do you want to stay with an
enemy like me?"
"Pran."
"I told you to get your stuff and leave."
"…"
I stay still, averting my gaze. Although the place where my
eyes land on is nothing interesting, I force myself not to look at him,
not to feel anything with those downhearted eyes, and not to react
when the door is opened…and shut quietly.
 | SCENE EIGHT |
Pat | talk

I know that's Pran's room, and he has every right to allow or

kick someone out as he pleases. It's his right to do that, but I feel my
heart drop because Pran has never told me to leave with a gaze so
cold. I'm both incensed and disappointed by the fact that Pran chose
that dude, the monkey always clinging to him, instead of me, whom
he's known since childhood. I forget about Fragrant and go back to
my room. It's only a few meters away, yet it feels like forever before I
can turn the doorknob.
I know I was too harsh with that punk, but the irritation I'd
suppressed drove me to beat him to bits. I totally lost it. The more I
thought about how Pran was so kind to him, the harder I wish to
erase his existence. I'd give no shit if he died. I don't care. Well, who
cares?
Oh…right…the one who cares is the one kicking me out of his
room minutes ago.
I was fumed with rage, and I admit I felt guilty to have hit Pran.
I didn't hold back despite not meaning to. Since our primary school
days, I'd never thought of fighting with Pran with my full strength. I
was overwhelmed with guilt. Pran was hurt physically while I,
emotionally. That's why I went to apologize to him sincerely.
But Pran wouldn't hear it.
"What's wrong, Pat?"
My sister, painting her nails, asks from her room, noticing me
standing with an empty face in front of my bedroom door. The sharp
scent of thinner fills the room. I would nomally complain about it. But
now, even if Par paints her nails in the common area, I don't have
the heart to ask her to do it on the balcony as usual.
 I sigh once and look at my fist, the one I used to hit Pran. I feel
like going back there to whine.
What right does he have to make me feel so awful that I want
to cry like this?
"What's the matter, Pat? Did something happen?"
"I fought with Pran."
"Again." Par heaves a sigh before frowning as I don't talk back.
"What kind of fight? Was it physical like every time?"
"Yeah, I hit him, but he didn't hit me."
"Pat! Is Pran okay?"
"You should go and check on him."
"Why don't you do it yourself?"
"He probably…" I pause. I want to treat his wounds, but I guess
it's not necessary anymore. "…Doesn't want to see my face."
"Is he mad at you for real? Haven't you two made up a long
time ago? What made you go physical? Plus, you didn't talk it out
after the fight. This is unusual."
"Um," I mumble, avoiding the question. I can't put it into words,
but I hate that son of a bitch. I hate him. And, I don't care if what I did
makes Pran get more upset with me.
Call me a sore loser if you must. This possessive feeling I have
over Pran is true.
"Why don't you wait for him to calm down first and try again?"
"Fuck it."
That's my answer. I take off the workshop shirt and toss it on
the bed before flopping down. I had no idea when I started to feel
this way. For the record, no matter how terrible our fights were and
no matter how angry or unhappy Pran was, I would always be his
number one when we were alone. Something grew in my heart,
never be expressed. No need to let anyone know. Now that the place
I put myself in is no longer secure, the suppressed feeling threatens
to gush out.
"Pat, I know you want to be alone, but you can call me if you
need anything."
"I'll go and have a drink with Gon."
 Par nods and disappears into her room, leaving me falling
deeper into this messed up feeling alone.
I've never thought of a day when Pran would put someone to
be his number one instead of me. Now that I have been treated so
coldly, I feel like the sky is falling.
I'm the only one developing this feeling.
The heat has evaporated after getting intoxicated, not too
wasted but pretty drunk.
I wasn't sure if Jor told Nat or if she already waited at our
regular bar. Well, it's not as important as where we ended up. I
couldn't sleep and spent the entire night trying to stop overthinking.
Why do I care about Pran so much?
"Pat, are you leaving now? It's still early."
I'm stopped by a girl's voice as I put on my pants. They were
on the floor with a bra beside the bed. I'm now in a posh apartment
quite far away from the university. The light was turned off a few
moments ago after Nat had fallen asleep out of exhaustion. Not
interrupting her sleep, I guided myself the way with the light through
the curtains and dressed up. As I flipped my white shirt, a condom
box dropped on the floor and possibly woke her up.
"You have class?"
"No. I need to hurry back. My sister's waiting."
"Hey, you're a grown man. Why is she so worried about you?
Can't you cuddle me for a while before finding something to eat
together?"
I give no answer, buttoning my shirt. Nat gets up from the
mattress, naked, and wraps her arms around me from behind
sweetly.
"Please."
"Aren't you tired? Take a rest."
"I am, awfully, but I'm down for it if you want another round.
Stay a little longer. It's so hard to reach you."
"Come on, Nat," I snarl as Nat touches my chest with her
fingernails. She unbuttons my shirt, puts her chin on my shoulder,
and kisses my neck softly.
"How cruel."
 "I'll call you."
"You always say that. You promised to meet up and
disappeared."
"Don't try to pick a fight, Nat. It was what we both wanted. I
wouldn't have done it if you'd told me not to," I explain and light a
cigarette. Nat pulls her hands back and sits on the bed, vexed.
"So, is that it?"
"Nat…Okay, if you need an apology, I'm sorry."
"Don't joke with me, Pat."
"What about we'll meet up again? Is that okay?"
Seeing her angry expression, I speak more gently and button
up my shirt again. I kiss her cheek to calm her down.
"I just want you to rest."
And I also need a rest.
The room owner sighs and finally lets me go. I grab my dead
phone and wallet and take a taxi. My eyes are closed on the way
home, and I've reached the destination after a while. I repeat my
routine, pushing the elevator button, watching the changing numbers
overhead, and unlocking the door. Par is probably at the university
right now. However, when the door is unlocked, it's pulled open from
the inside.
"Where have you been, Pat?!"
Par is still in the same clothes as yesterday in the evening, her
eyes hollowed as if she hasn't slept a wink. Her voice is harsh and
hoarse.
"I couldn't reach you nor your friends. Have you any idea how
much I'm worried?"
"Par, calm down. I'm sorry." She hits me with all her strength
before bursting into tears and hugging me. Par isn't usually this
emotional, and I know why. She believes my fight with Pran is pretty
severe. Even though I've never said a word, Par understands how
important Pran is to me.
That's why my disappearance worried Par to the point she
waited for me all night.
"What is this?"
 Par asks, slowly pulling back. I stand still, not knowing what
she means. Her emotion turns stern. She shoves my chest and
stomps into her room, and I pace quickly to seize her arm. We don't
give a damn about the unclosed door.
"Par, what upsets you now? I'm sorry. I was drunk, so I crashed
at Gon's."
"Did you have sex with Gon as well?"
"Are you nuts?"
"Then what's that mark on your neck?! You're single. Don't tell
me you were so stressed that you fooled around. Who was that
girl?!"
"Par, chill out. I'm a grownup, you know."
"Give me her name. I won't let you fool around with anyone.
You're too stupid."
"Par."
"Don't make me squeeze the answer out of Gon."
"It's Nat," I confess to end this argument. But instead of settling
this battle for good, Par looks more seething with anger.
"Is it Nat from Science, the cheerleader?"
"Yeah."
"What have you done, Pat?! Don't you know how she is? Did
you use protection? I won't be surprised if she lets herself get
pregnant to catch you. And you're graduating soon. Are you crazy?"
"Par, you're overthinking. Just forget it. I used protection, so
stop nagging. I just blew off some steam."
"You'll be in more serious trouble. Don't associate yourself with
her again. Give me your phone."
"My phone's dead."
"Give it!"
I hand my phone to my sister. Par is particularly angry since
she's sleep–deprived, and so I relent. I leave my phone with Par and
walk back to close the door. But then I find someone frozen in front
of the door. He's so close that he must've heard every single word of
my loud argument with Par. My heart drops, but another part of me
says I don't have to care.
 Pran meets my eyes, his lips not curving up or down, totally
expressionless. He stares at me for a moment and looks past me as
if I don't exist. I close the door, enter my bedroom, lie down on the
bed, and try to sleep. It must be that Fragrant isn't by my side. Even
if I haven't slept for almost twenty–four hours, I can't fall asleep at all.
Since there was no way I'd drift off, I've come to the university
to attend the class before noon. I didn't bring my phone and let Par
sleep. Gon spots me and grins while Jor looks troubled.
"What's up? Look at your hollowed eyes. How many rounds
last night?"
"Stupid."
"Well, you didn't have a fling with anyone for a long time. It's
been forever. I don't remember the last time you'd done it." Gon is
still blabbering. I clear my throat and he continues. "I thought you'd
skip classes."
"I couldn't sleep."
"Well, you've used up your energy last night."
"Par told me off this morning."
Gon goes silent upon hearing that. We all know I back down
whenever Par is mad, no matter how trivial the problem is.
Fortunately, Par is hardly angry for no good reason.
"I knew it," Jor comments. I just nod, not elaborating on the
situation. I take my laptop out of my backpack and work on my
project while waiting for the professor. "Pat, Nontachai called for us
to ask about yesterday."
"Hmm? What about yesterday?"
"He wants to see you if you turn up. It's about the fight with the
architecture bunch. If it happens again, we'll be all put on probation.
Due to the fact that we're graduating soon, he doesn't want us to
cause trouble, especially you," my best friend concludes, his face
stern. Gon stops joking this time, as concerned as us. "He's always
thought we fought like children, so he let it slide. But yesterday, he
heard you really went all out."
"I'll see him after classes."
"He'll probably tell you not to instill the hatred towards the other
faculty in the juniors."
 "Is that so?" I mumble. If things didn't turn out this way, I
could've acted all lovey–dovey with Pran as an example for the
juniors as the head of the faculty wants.
I sigh.
Pran never hated me, but he probably hates my guts now that
I've messed with his friend.
Pran has been in my head for over forty–eight hours. I see
Nontachai as told from Jor, listen to the predictable lecture, and
promise it won't happen again. I've been warned countless times.
Well, my seniors drilled into my head for four years that these two
faculties could never be on good terms. It mirrors the rivalry between
my family and Pran's, which I didn't know exactly what the cause
was. In this kind of environment, the hatred was passed on
generation after generation, started long ago we can't pinpoint the
origin. It could begin at the same time as the faculties were found.
The professors know about this and warn us as much as they can.
Some think it's ridiculous, but the seniors don't think so, just like the
fagging system.
I heave a sigh, sitting at the communal table in the lobby since
five. Pran hasn't come back, and I won't be able to sleep without
hugging Fragrant. If Fragrant isn't by my side, at least Pran's scent
will put me at ease. That's why I'm waiting for him while working on
my project with the Wi–Fi network provided here.
Now that I'm alone, I can't help thinking I caused a lot of trouble
to people around me.
Pran comes back around six. He notices me and looks away. I
pretend to focus on my project, not following him immediately. When
the elevator returns, I take it upstairs. I put my laptop in my room and
pick up the takeaway food I bought for Pran and Par.
I knock on his door with my knuckles, and the room owner
opens within a minute. Pran still gives me an indifferent look like
before.
"What?"
"Fragrant."
He turns around to get my bunny without inviting me in. When
I've successfully gotten my stuff, we both stay silent. Finally, Pran
speaks first.
"The girl you slept with last night." His sharp eyes are fixed on
the purple hickey on my neck, too dark to be erased or covered. Nat
left the evidence on purpose as proof of what happened last night.
"She's not someone you should mess with."
"What's it to you? You're the one letting that fucker cling to
you."
"You still don't know what you did was wrong?"
"What did I do wrong? You don't want me to sleep with any girl,
huh? If you can't do it yourself, don't go around and stop others from
doing that."
"Pat, Wai is my friend."
"Nat is also my friend. Friends can fuck. It's nothing strange.
You can fuck that son of a bitch as well."
"Don't mess with me. I'm not in the mood to fight."
"Who told you to stick your nose in my business first? I can
sleep with whoever I want. And you can feed ice cream to anyone
you want."
"If your sister wasn't bawling like that, I wouldn't waste my time
mentioning it. I have no interest in your shitty mess."
"Oh, you mean you're lowering your pride to warn me because
Par asked you to scold me? Wow, should I kneel and thank you?"
"Pat, you asshole!" He snatches my collar and I rapidly push
him. He sways and falls against the door. I step closer and block him
with my arms.
"What? Are you gonna punch me?"
"Yeah, why can't I? You hit me first. Stop! Don't lean any
closer!"
"What the fuck are you scared of? You weren't when you put
your nose in my business. Scared you'll get another punch?" I grin a
different kind of grin this time. Pran pushes my chest over and over,
but the hands used to hold the cutter and house models can only do
so much. He's fucking weak. Why wouldn't I know his strength when
we had so many fights before? I move even closer and lift his chin
with one of my hands. "Do you know that aside from punching, I can
punish you with a different method if you're too naughty?"
 In that second, I do what I desire. I press my mouth on the lips
I've had my eyes on since forever, kissing him without a care of his
desperate attempt to resist. I bite his lip as I want. I lock his neck in
place and kiss him to my heart's content before pulling back.
I watch him quietly. The food and Fragrant are on the floor.
Pran is shaking in extreme anger, his face flushing red. The sight
makes me smirk.
"Ask yourself again. You warned me about how I slept with
others because Par asked you to or…you're jealous…?"
 | SCENE NINE |
Pran | talk

I admit I've been mad at Pat for days, so mad that I didn't want
to even catch a glimpse of his face. Besides, I was angry with myself
because I couldn't control my emotions and my words. I just needed
some time alone to organize my mind, knowing I was being
unreasonable.
I was resenting him and thinking of him negatively. I should at
least calm down so I wouldn't let my emotions take over and end up
hurting like the other day.
But judging from his action right now…this mad dog
understands nothing.
My neck is locked and pulled forward. Pat's lips mash against
mine so aggressively that my eyes widen. I can feel his sharp teeth
biting my lower lip. The force hurts my bruised cheek. I try to break
free, but he uses his surprising strength to hold me in place with only
two arms. How long has it been since I fought him seriously? I'm
incredibly exasperated.
The second he pulls back, his words almost trigger my tears of
anger.
"Ask yourself again. You warned me about how I slept with
others because Par asked you to or…you're jealous…?"
His smirk is the final straw.
THUD!!
I strike his jaw with my fist without holding back and kick his
stomach. It sends him flying out the door.
"Get the fuck away from me, Pat!"
BANG!!
The door is banged shut, shaking the ceiling. Some bottles on
the shelf near the door roll down and drop on the floor. The lids fall
off and the liquid inside oozes out, as messy as my mind. I feel the
throbbing in my lower lip. I lick my swollen lips and frown.
THUD!
"Fuck!!"
I slam the wall with my fist and cuss out loud before collapsing
on the floor. I lean my back against the door and look up at the
ceiling, my eyes feeling hot, yet no tears trick down.
Pat kissed me…What the fuck was that?
After submitting the study model and my thesis topic has been
approved with the adviser's signature, I proceed to plan my project
schedule to catch up with the following presentation. With time flying
by, those with disapproved topics are busy meeting up with their
advisers. Ke and Golf have been nowhere to be seen for days. The
last time I saw them was two days ago. Their plans kept getting
rejected, so they needed to call their seniors to ask for new designs.
We have a long free period these days because the thesis
credit is already counted as ten. We spend time principally working
on it and match our free time with the adviser for the assessment.
Today, I've been at the library since afternoon.
"Pran! You're here."
Looking up, I see Wai smiling from afar.
"Done with the topic assessment?"
He nods, beaming. "Yup."
"Smiling like that, it must be good news."
"Yeah, it finally got approved. My knees almost buckled," Wai
says, seated himself next to me. I return a smile and continue
reading.
"Pran…"
"Um."
"Are you having problems with the project?"
"No." I take my eyes off the thick book full of human body sizes
comparing with objects with English descriptions, and look at him.
"Why?"
Wai gives me a sheepish smile. Most of the wounds on his face
healed, but the corner of his mouth is still bruised. The injuries start
to form scabs. The gauze on his cheekbone was replaced with a
small bandage days ago.
"The other guys are scared of you. You've been emitting this
deadly aura recently."
"…I'm fine."
"It's been like this for several days now. You can tell me what
happened."
"It's nothing. I'm fine…I'm just bored."
"What are you bored of? It might not be about this, and I'm not
sure if it's only all in my head. I mean, you've been acting strange
since the day I had that big fight."
I stiffen, recalling the sight of Pat went crazy on my friend, the
sight of me stopping him and getting hit in the cheek, the sight of us
having a serious fight, and the sight of us meeting eyes, ignoring
each other, and going our own ways without exchanging smirks or
glares.
And that absurd incident three days ago…
"I'm just bored…bored of fighting."
"Pran." I don't know if my expression is so terrible that Wai's
voice softens like that. "I'm sorry."
"About what?" I glance at his guilty face and laugh. "Why did
you put this guilty look on your face?"
The person who should apologize…doesn't even feel guilty.
"I was hasty."
"I'm not mad at you. It's not anyone's fault." I tilt my head and
close the book. "But I'm really sick of fighting."
"I know."
I nod, indicating that I won't talk about it anymore, and reopen
the book.
"Wanna go and grab a drink this evening?"
Didn't you hear a word I said? "We always get in fights when
we drink."
"Come on, let's relax since our topics got a pass. We're going
to work day and night from now on. Why not enjoying ourselves for
the last time?" He grins. "I promise I won't cause any trouble."
"As if I can stop you."
 "I'll prove to you I'm not hasty anymore."
"…Whatever you say."
We split in front of my apartment building, agreeing to meet up
here at half–past seven. I carry the rolls of my plans and the
borrowed books upstairs in the elevator. As I reach my room, Par
opens her door.
"Oh, Pran."
She greets me with a sweet voice, smiling. Her smile is so
adorable, unlike the annoying smirk her brother has.
I smile back at her. "Skipping classes?"
"I don't have afternoon classes today. I'm here to pick up my
stuff. I'll watch a movie with my friends in the evening."
"How are you going there?"
"A taxi," she replies, locking the door. "I'm seeing my friends in
the lobby."
"Want me to give you a ride?"
"It's all right. Don't bother," Par refuses, waving her hands
quickly. Par is always cute to me. I can't imagine her crossing her
arms and scolding Pat like a mother tiger at all. She's been kind and
polite to me all this time. Maybe it's because of the drowning incident
back when we were kids. It makes me feel like she is my sister, and
she also thinks of me as her brother.
"Be safe."
"Pran."
"Yes?" I lift my eyebrow. Her sweet smile fades, replaced with a
worried expression. "What's wrong?"
"Are you still not making up with Pat?"
"…"
"Are you really mad at him?"
I press my lips together and lower my gaze.
"Pat has been spending the nights at our place, but he came
back late and got drunk every day. He remained quiet even when I
complained…He looks nothing like himself," Par recounts, her voice
filled with stress. Does Pat have any idea his beloved sister feels
troubled because of him? "I'm worried about Pat."
 I still don't speak, not knowing what to say, unable to come up
with comforting words. That's because this is not someone else's
matter. I have a part in it too.
"I know Pat is flippant, lousy, self–centered, narcissistic, and
only causes you trouble."
Wow…his sister is better than me in criticism.
"But to Pat…you are really important."
My heart throbs with this inexplicitly weird feeling. My heart
beats faster, to my irritation. I don't remember the last time I met
eyes with Pat. I've been pacing the other ways whenever we
bumped into each other these past few days. I entered my room as
fast I could when we ran into each other in front of the doors, not
risking getting close to him. You can say I've been avoiding Pat. I'm
not ready to talk it out yet.
"I got it. Enjoy the movie and take care of yourself. Don't get
home late."
"It's because you're so nice like this." Par's voice becomes a
little bit brighter. Her smile returns. "I'm angry every time my brother
pisses you off."
"I don't have snacks for you after all the compliments."
"I don't want snacks. It'll make me fat." I glance at Par's waist,
so tiny I might wrap it with the tip of my finger. "I only want you to
forgive Pat."
I ruffle her hair and give her a comforting smile. "Go watch the
movie. Your friends are waiting."
"See you later, then."
I nod, watch her until she disappears into the elevator, and
enter my room.
I unbutton my shirt and throw it in the laundry basket, then I
take off the belt before lying on the couch with my arms under my
head.
Pat and I grew up together. We've been through a lot of things.
Even though I never meant to tell him anything, we ended up
knowing about one another the most. Pat was the first person who
found out my preferable profession, and I knew what university he
wished to get into. Our decisions often turned out similar, which led
to the argument about who copied who. We know each other so well
that we can tell what the other is thinking by meeting eyes. We
understand the other's feelings without having to spell them out. We
hate, fight, and lash out at one another, yet we are each other's final
resources.
There were times when I looked at Pat's face while treating his
wounds and wondered what he meant to me.
We're not best friends who join at the hips or go everywhere
together. We can't hang out together freely. Even so, we're not on
bad terms.
For the record, I once had a meal with Pat. It was in the middle
of the night and the place was far enough that our acquaintances
wouldn't come across. Our relationship is unexplainably odd. As time
has passed, the complicated feelings have become something we're
used to…We're used to having each other around and bickering
without ever holding grudges.
I look out the window, watching the clouds floating in the sky
and letting my thoughts fly away with them.
"It's pretty crowded," I say after sweeping around the room with
my eyes and finding no empty table.
"It's your fault. You were half an hour late."
"I fell asleep. Sorry."
"That's the empty one."
Wai points at the corner of the bar. There's a small table with
no less than four seats. He drags my arm, heading over there. We
settle down and call the waiter to order our regular dishes. The food
and drinks are served before long. Wai and I mix our own drinks and
clink glasses.
We usually hang out at the bar in a large group. We'd enjoy
ourselves and have fun like any other guys. But if the two of us drink
alone without inviting someone else, it means we wish to free our
minds from everything.
Wai starts a conversation occasionally, not all the time. He
allows me some quiet moments with myself and clinks his glass with
mine, from time to time, as if to let me know he's still here. At the bar,
besides drinking, girls are one of the things people come for. I have
no interest in this matter, though. Maybe I'm just too picky that I
never feel like being in a relationship with anyone.
You can say I haven't found someone who intrigues me
enough.
Girls did try to approach me but turned their attention to my
friends immediately after sensing my silent rejection. Unlike me, Pat
is friendly, not flirty, but not unapproachable.
To put it simply, Pat's qualities…are the exact opposite of mine.
My hand freezes in the air before I can take another gulp as my
gaze lands on the person I thought about just now. I don't know how
long Pat has been glowering at me from where he is.
See…? No matter how hard I try to avoid him, this peculiar
world keeps hurling us into each other.
Beside Pat is a pretty girl. She's curling up against him. If I'm
not mistaken, this is the girl Par mentioned to me days ago. It's Nat,
the science cheerleader. Many have told me this girl is dangerous:
She never lets go of her targets.
I shake my head, pitying the idiot who once got tricked and lost
more than a hundred thousand for a girl. Pat has never been smart
enough to protect himself.
Those fierce eyes are fixed on me while his hand caresses the
slim waist. Pat bends down until his nose touches the head of the girl
next to him. Nat giggles and clings to him more closely, nearly
getting on his lap. Her hand traces his chest and neck. I avert my
gaze back to Wai when they're so close to ripping the other's clothes
off and becoming one.
"You all right?" Wai asks and leans down a little to look into my
eyes.
"Yeah."
"You don't look well. Must've drunk too much," Wai observes
and takes my glass away. I didn't know I'd finished quite a lot.
"Um," I mumble and massage my temples. "I'm tired."
"Are you okay? Should we leave?"
"You can go on and drink."
"How can I? You should see yourself in the mirror. Your face is
red like a cooked shrimp."
 I force a smile, my head feeling heavy. I might have a fever.
The tightness in my chest intensifies as if I'm allergic to alcohol.
"Let's go. I'll see you home."
I nod. Wai takes care of the bill before both of us leave the bar,
and I don't look back to that guy again.
 | SCENE TEN |
Pat | talk

He's left!
In all honesty, I didn't know Pran would be here, especially
alone with that monkey. He knows. He knows the place I'd be to
relieve my stress and get wasted before going back home. Today is
no different. I went to class and came to the bar to hang out with
Gon and the guys. Nat arrived here in advance to wait for me since
she couldn't contact me for days. It's no surprise. How could she
reach me after my sister had blocked her on every platform? Nat
wouldn't lower her pride to borrow someone's phone to contact me,
so she acted like we bumped into each other by chance.
I know everything. Why does everyone think I'm stupid? I made
a mistake once and never again trust others easily. Playing along
with girls doesn't mean I can't figure out their true intentions. I do it
just to check my popularity. I won't let myself be caught. The person I
wish would try to catch me has gotten up and left with that punk in a
sulky face. He didn't look too well and his face was all red. Did that
guy make him drunk?
"Pat, where are you going?"
I leave cash on the table and put a glass on it. Nat holds my
arm relentlessly as I stand up. Jor and the guys glance at us, but no
one tries to stop the fight.
"I'm leaving. I have an errand to run."
"What errand? Are you running away again?"
"Leave me alone, Nat."
"How can I do that when…"
"Nat, sleeping with each other once doesn't mean we're dating.
It was what You and I wanted. I'm not toying with you or anything," I
whisper through gritted teeth, removing her hands from my arm. I
understand now what Par meant when she said I'd be in more
serious trouble. "You know well some people separate sex and love.
I'm one of them. I believe you are too."
"What the hell are you talking about, Pat?"
"What do you want me to do since we can't date?"
I sigh and make my way out of the bar. Nat follows me in her
high heels, jogging through the crowd. She seizes my arm again.
Damn it! This is getting bothersome.
"You can't do this, Pat. People think we're dating. How could
you say you don't have feelings for me when people already
misunderstood?"
"Nat, I have a secret that I want you to be the first person to
know," I snarl, pulling my arm off her grip. It's hopeless to catch up
with Pran now. I feel uneasy, but I have to put an end to this matter.
"I think I might be gay. I was heartbroken and stressed, and you
showed up. The sex that night was great. It was amazing, yet it
couldn't stop me from falling for that man. I can have sex with girls,
but I can't erase my feelings for that man. I'm sorry."
Nat finally drops her hands. Her rouge lips part awkwardly after
I've finished speaking. My eyes, my action, everything shows her
that this is not an excuse. It's the truth.
"Now, it's your choice whether to date me until people find out
I'm gay and break up with me then. Choose the best option for you."
"Pat! You moron!"
"I'm sorry. I can't say anything more. I can't change what
happened. Will you let me go now?"
Her lips are pressed tight. Nat slaps my face as hard as a girl
can, but it can't make me stay to hear the answer to the recent
question. Screams and cussing words are no use to stop me as well.
I've wasted too much time already, and I need to bring Pran back
before that fucker takes him from me for real.
Fortunately, I find a taxi quickly. I try to call Pran several times
on the way, worried for his safety. Is he conscious? Although he
knows how to fight and has enough strength to beat people up, I'm
still not at ease. That punk is weak, but comparing to Pran, Pran is
so much more vulnerable. Plus, when overtaken by lust, one can be
impulsive. Pran might not even give his consent.
Damn it. In other circumstances where Pran and I are on good
terms, I wouldn't be this anxious. Well, I got hit pretty hard when I
kissed him. He might be disgusted with men.
Does it mean he's disgusted with me too?
For fuck's sake. So what if Pran is disgusted with me? I will
make him fall head over heels for me the same way he did me.
Honestly, my mind has never been this messy. I used to be confident
with everything I did. But when it comes to Pran's feelings, I get all
flustered.
If Pran just tries to get back at me like the way I cuddled Nat…
My heart aches just by thinking about it.
The elevator goes up more slowly than usual. My head is about
to explode by the time I reach my floor. The elevator door opens, and
I spot that pale punk standing in front of Pran's room with one hand
on the wall. Pran crosses his arms, leaning against the door flame.
The dark eyes of the guy with reddened skin flick to me. The
moment he sees me, he steps forward and pushes his fucking dear
friend behind.
"Pat!"
"How long are you going to protect him?"
"You're still not over that fight? Wanna get some more?"
"Wai, don't fight him." Pran warns his friend and turns to me.
What's his name again? Wimp? I didn't quite catch it.
"Why aren't you with your girl?"
"Ask that wimp why he tried to pick a fight with me if he's sick
of it."
"You're the one picking a fight, not me."
"Right, I'll tear you into pieces. Got a problem?"
"Pat! Come to your senses!"
"I'll talk to you, but back off for now. I'm not fighting you, Pran."
"You came to mess with my friend right in front of his door. You
think you could show up alone and act any way you want?" Ugh, you
fucking wuss. He pulls Pran out of the way, getting all cocky though
he doesn't know a single thing. "Wanna settle it once and for all?
And stop messing with Pran."
"If you want to talk to me, leave Wai alone."
"Tell this monkey to get the hell away."
"I'm not leaving!"
"It's all right, Wai. He won't hurt me."
"But…"
"Do you want to get admitted to the hospital? Are you really
willing to fight this mad dog? I told you I didn't want more trouble.
You have your project to complete. Don't waste your time with a guy
like this. I'll deal with him myself."
"Pran."
"Don't you get what I said?!" Pran yells, which is rare. His low
voice reverberates. It means the monkey has no choice but to yield.
He eyes me, unwilling to back away, and gives the room owner a
quick nod.
"Call me if anything happens. I'll wait downstairs."
"Just go home. Don't worry about me. He won't hurt me."
"I just want to have a heart–to–heart chat."
A triumphant smile appears on my face as the other guy looks
vexed. Pran's friend walks past me, intentionally bumping my
shoulder. I don't give a damn. The quicker he leaves, the better.
Once the elevator door is closed, Pran opens the door so we can
talk inside.
"Say what you have to say."
"Are you drunk?"
"I'm not."
"Your face is so red." I touch his cheek, and Pran slaps it off as
if getting burned.
"Do not touch me. Go back to your girl."
"You told me not to be with Nat the other day. Why are you
chasing me away now?"
"You looked happy. Didn't think you'd leave so soon." I've never
seen Pran in this scornful mode. He crosses his arm and lifts up his
chin, refusing to look at me. When I move closer, he steps back in
weariness.
 "I'm sorry. Are you still mad about the kiss?"
"Huh, a person like you can kiss even a dog. It means nothing
to me."
"Hey, the way you're acting resembles a wife getting upset as
her husband is cheating."
"I'm not upset! Just say what you have to say. This is wasting
my time. And stop joking."
"Seriously, we haven't seen each other in a while. Didn't you
miss me at all?"
"No, I was doing well."
"But I missed you so much."
Pran's eyes flick to me. The moment he puts his guard down, I
step forward and pull him in an embrace. Surrendering, I bury my
face in his shoulder. I was upset and jealous like crazy, but it all
shattered the second Pran sent that bastard away to be with me. I've
acted reckless for days just because I wanted this certain someone
to show some affection or worry towards me.
It's as they say: People act terrible when they need love.
And I need it from him tremendously.
"Pran, I'm sorry about Nat. I was confused. It's a lot of things. I
don't know."
"Don't apologize to me. It's your business."
"How can I not? You were sulking at the bar because you were
jealous, right?"
"You're so full of yourself."
"What am I supposed to think? Your action gave away."
"I wasn't jealous. It's up to you who you want to spend time
with. I won't put my nose in."
"I'll allow that if you're jealous. I'll even let you order me."
"Why would I meddle your business? Let me go. Don't get
handsy. I'm not…"
"No, you're not my girl, but you're mine. Haven't you realized it?
If you're not mine, I'll make you be. One day you'll be mine because I
can't let you go. And I can't be with someone else to forget you. You
know how I feel, right?"
 "Quit blabbering nonsense. Keep your imagination to yourself."
Pran pulls himself away from me. I look at his face, sulky yet
attractive. He furrows his brow and rubs his nose. "Your perfume
smells awful."
"It's Nat's."
"Right."
"I'm not seeing her anymore. We've talked it out. I'm really
sorry. I'll do whatever you want me to. I understand now it's no use
getting back at each other."
"You're one to talk," Pran snarls, still moody but less than
before. I know. I've known him since forever. Why wouldn't I see him
through? "You'll find someone new soon. That person should get
Par's approval so I won't be forced to put my nose in your business
again."
"Come on, you're so mad that you're no longer the cool Pran I
knew. You keep repeating the same thing, chewing me out for the
same topic. Just admit you're jealous."
"Don't be so full of yourself. You have no good qualities to be
liked. You only cause trouble."
"You're right. I don't want it to be in love, but I can't help
myself."
Pran goes quiet, still not meeting my gaze. His eyes show
confusion. It's as if he doesn't understand what I'm trying to say.
"See? You can say you're jealous, and you can say you love
me. Just like how I confessed to you."
"You're not making sense."
"I'm speaking the truth."
"Do you always talk this way to others?"
"You know damn well if I'm like this to others or only to you.
You know me best, Pran."
I look into his eyes, pleading with all sincerity. I won't hide it
anymore. I won't keep it inside. My unreasonable and wild behaviors
came from these suppressed feelings. I won't let Pran run away. Our
mutual feelings aren't all in our heads. It wouldn't be this clear if Pran
didn't lose his cool over Nat. No matter how troublesome I was or
how angry he felt, things always ended well after I apologized, unlike
now.
"I was confused. What I've done was stupid and silly. I know
that now. I never wanted to love you, Pran. I never wished to feel this
way. We're both men, but I fell for you. You made me feel
heartbroken. You've known that bastard only for a few years, yet you
care about him more than me. Why? Am not good enough to be
given a chance?"
"So you slept with Nat because the way I cared about my friend
upset you?"
"You know I'm an idiot." And childish. And demanding. I played
around to hurt Pran, but the one who hurt most turned out to be me.
"I did wrong. I mean it. It won't happen again. Please give me a
chance."
"Huh, you think you're good enough to deserve another
chance?"
"Then tell me you've never had feelings for me. That you've
never thought my existence means anything to you. You've never felt
comfortable and relaxed when we're together. And you'll be fine…if I
disappear from your life one day. If that's what you want, look at me
and say it. I'll believe you."
My eyes lock on Pran, begging. I'm all in for him. All those
things I dare him to say are the opposite of my feelings. Having him
by my side and being the first person he looks for are truly precious.
"I can't think of a way to make you stop hanging out with that
asshole and come back to me. I know it's foolish, but I'm infuriated
with myself for being so useless. I can't even be by your side like
him…"
His eyes are pensive and confused. I totally understand. I've
been through this kind of moment. It's a difficult time, and he needs
time to digest it. My aggressive inclination was driven by my inability
to handle this agitation. As I couldn't pinpoint what was wrong with
me, I got triggered easily by the fear of losing Pran.
Pran remains silent. It flusters me like nothing else. If he turns
me down, my world will shatter. I lean my head on his shoulder,
exhausted and worn out. If I solve this matter with emotions and
violence like before, the situation will get worse.
"I can't stand living like this, Pran. I can't have you in my life
without you being mine," I whisper hoarsely, wrapping my arms
around his waist. "If you reject me, I'll probably have to disappear for
real."
"Disappear to where?" His voice is just as shaking. I hear his
heartbeat and mine, which is slower and weaker.
"I don't know, but I can't stay here knowing you choose that
asshole. I'd go crazy. I regret everything I did, even loving you. I
regret it as it makes you uncomfortable." My overflowing confidence
is gradually evaporating since the person in my arms still won't
speak. I can't imagine my life without Pran. "I just need your answer
so that I can figure out my next move."
It feels like an eternity, waiting for his answer. The silence is
deafening, pressuring my miserable heart. I rise my face from his
shoulder to see his reaction Pran is calm and collected as always.
He moves his eyes from left to right slowly, contemplating. I even
watch when Pran presses his lips together, loosens them, breathes
in, and breathes out.
"My friend's name is Wai, Waiyakorn."
"I don't give a fuck! Do you have to bring it up right now?"
"You're asking me to be your boyfriend, Pat. Don't be petulant."
Pran is always composed. It calms me down when my heart is
restless. I break the embrace and face the wall before slamming my
head on it over and over.
"What the hell are you doing? Can you stop being an idiot for a
minute? It's bothering the neighbors."
Pran pulls my shoulder, and I look at his face. Pran is still
worried about me but acting like he cares about others. He frowns
and clears his throat.
"Wai is my friend, and I don't take sides with the person doing
wrong. You were the one picking a fight. I want you to apologize to
him."
"What the fuck, Pran?! I just said I wanted to punch that
bastard in the face. If I ever see him again, I'll beat him to a pulp.
And now you're telling me to apologize to him?"
"Pat, I don't want you to be unreasonable like this."
"I can be reasonable about anything, but not when you're
involved, okay?" Pran goes still, pressing his lips tight, still baffled.
"Pat, you're not joking, right? You're serious, aren't you?"
"Have you ever seen me this serious? This is the first time in
my life," I sigh, massaging my temples. I'm overwhelmed with stress,
and Pran can see it. I can tell from his softened voice as he utters
the following words.
"Since when did you feel…this way?"
"I don't know. How could I? If I'd known, I would've tried to get
over you. Before I realized it, it pained me to see you and that
bastard being all lovey–dovey."
"He's Waiyakorn."
"I said I don't give a fuck."
"You need to give some because he's my friend. You want to
date me, but won't it be terrible if you can't remember a single one of
my friends' names?"
Shit, did I hear it right?
My eyes go wide, my heart pounding. I pull Pran into a hug and
kiss his cheeks, turning them red again after it got paler. Left then
right, right then left.
"I heard it, Pran. I heard it. I wasn't hearing things."
"I said, 'You want…' I'm not accepting your confession."
"Then if I remember your friend's name…It's Wai, right? Okay, I
got it. Will you be my boyfriend now? I remember it so well. I'll dream
about it tonight."
"Your mood swings are crazy!"
"You wouldn't understand." Just now, I felt like the sky was
falling. It's like I was in court waiting for the death sentence and
suddenly getting pardoned. I was a man on the verge of death given
a chance to breathe again. "Pran, did you mean it?"
"Shit, let me go. Why are you so handsy? Damn it, your beard!"
"Oh, sorry. I didn't shave it," I laugh and pull back, watching the
worked–up guy affectionately. Pran is getting all red, even redder
than when drunk.
 "Stop smiling. We still haven't talked about how you spit those
hurtful words at me and about the girl."
"Come on, Pran, I'm sorry. I'll say it as many times as you want.
I really feel guilty. You know I can't control myself when furious. The
way I tried to get your attention was messed up. I admit I was an
asshole. Punish me. You can kiss me back."
"Fuck, how shameless."
"My lips are soft." I pucker up my lips, but Pran smacks my chin
gently. It doesn't hurt at all as his hand is soft. "I'm sleepy. Let me
crash here. I've never been able to sleep since we fought."
"You're asking me that but you're already in my bedroom. Pat,
take a shower first. Won't you go back to your room to get Shabby?"
"No."
I spin and smirk.
"I'm a grown man with a lover. How can I play with a plush? I'll
cuddle you instead of Fragrant tonight."
"Who's your lover?"
"You said you'd be in a relationship with me."
"As a friend."
"Praaaaaan," I whine. Pran crosses his arms with an empty
face, trying to get on my nerves. "Be a man. Don't take back your
words."
"You're imagining things."
"All right, I am, but I won't let you go anymore." I wiggle my
eyebrows. Pran glares at me with his arms crossed. He seems in a
better mood now, but it's obvious he's still bothered.
"One more thing."
"Go on."
"About Nat, I'll let it slide since we were just friends before. You
had the right to do anything or sleep with anyone." The sternness in
his voice stops me from teasing him. I stand still, listening carefully.
"You don't like it when I'm with Wai, so I believe you know how I'll
feel if you fool around."
"I swear it will never ever happen again."
"From now on, I won't forgive you if you make a mistake once.
If what you explained with a sad face today is real, I will end you
even when just you look at someone else, let alone sleeping with
them," Pran cautions, and I know how serious he is. "I mean it, Pat.
You can still change your mind."
Despite the sinister warning and the stern expression, as if my
head will be cut off with only one wrong move, I don't feel anxious at
all. I take his hands and give him the most sincere smile.
"I'm not changing my mind."
"And…when I knew you slept with her, it really hurt," the room
owner reveals his true feeling. I can't believe his honest words would
make me feel terribly guilty. Our eyes lock on each other, exposing
every secret in our hearts. "Don't make me regret my decision today,
Pat."
"Never." I lean in, touching his forehead with mine, conveying
all of my thoughts to him. "I will protect the chance you gave me."
"Cheesy." Pran steps back and frowns. I begin to realize he
looks annoyed every time I'm being romantic. Wait…maybe he's
blushing? "Take a shower. I really hate the smell of perfume on your
body."
Pran turns around. I grab the chance to hug him from behind
and instantly get hit in the cheek by his elbow.
"Ouch! Pran, it hurts."
"Why the hell did you do that? You startled me, coming from
behind."
I place my hand on my cheek. Pran removes it and examines
my cheek with his dark eyes, then he sighs and shakes his head.
"Go take a shower. I'm saying this for the third time already. I'll apply
some ointment for you later."
"I don't want to shower now. Stay with me a little longer, okay?"
I grin and grasp Pran's hands, my eyes lingering on his lips. If I
have another chance, I'll kiss him again, gently, slowly, softly, to
make up for the rough kiss last time. Pran reads my mind and
scowls. He pushes my head so hard that I sway.
"What are you looking at?"
I don't reply, keeping my gaze on his face. My heart feels so
full.
Although I got scolded and struck, I can't stop smiling at all.
 Damn, am I unconsciously becoming a masochist?
"One more thing, Pat."
"Yes?"
"I hope you know what you did wrong. When I tell you off, don't
apologize just to brush it off as you always did. Can you not do that?"
"Okay."
"You agree just to brush it off again."
Whoa, I finally understand the moral of the Shepherd Boy and
the Wolf. I grab Pran's hands and locks his gaze to assure him I'm
not taking this lightly. I'm not brushing everything off like before.
"Pran, I will reflect upon myself about everything. If I'm wrong, I
will apologize to your friends in person. I mean it."
With those words, the room owner heaves a long sigh with a
relaxed face.
 | SCENE ELEVEN |
Pran | talk

"Please."
"No."
"Pretty please."
"I said no."
"Praaaan."
I jerk my arm off the grip that was shaking me like a three–
year–old begging his parents to buy him toys in the middle of the
mall on holiday.
"It's a no even if you roll on the floor."
"You're mean."
"Mean my ass. Take a shower."
"I will…" Pat mumbles pleadingly, moving closer to me.
"Together."
SLAP!
"Ouch! Why did you hit me?"
"Quit joking."
"That was hard. Whose wifey is this…?"
"Watch your mouth, or I'll hit it."
"Your slap is powerful and you are very fierce."
"Go take a shower!"
I frown and move my foot to warm up for a kick. Pat, who has
been clingy and begging me to take a shower with him for twenty
minutes, raises his hands in surrender and paces towards the
bathroom.
"Won't you join me for real? Oh! I won't ask anymore."
SLAM!
Pat had the nerves to ask me again. I was reaching out for a
book on the shelf to throw at him and he quickly ran inside the
bathroom and shut the door! You coward!!
"Pran."
"What now?"
"Won't you go to bed?"
"You go first," I reply, not looking up. I started working on my
project as soon as I'd taken a shower.
"Do it tomorrow. We just made up."
"So? Does us making up mean I've graduated? The project still
exists."
"How cold."
I tilt my head, ignoring Pat's ridiculous complaints, and
continue sketching the plan. A moment later, my concentration is
broken by the vibration from my phone. The screen displays Wai's
name. I glance at Pat. He's stopped whining and is now playing on
his phone. I shift a little and pick up.
"What's up?"
[Are you okay, Pran?!]
"I…"
[Why did that fucker turn up? Did he hurt you? Are you okay?]
"Wait, calm down. Listen to me."
I snicker at Wai's flustered voice. I can hear him take a deep
breath.
[So, why was he there?]
"It's nothing. Just…" I say, shifting my gaze, trying to come up
with something. "It's the fight that day. He lashed out at you pretty
hard, so he came here to apologize for going overboard."
BANG!
The sound of a fist slamming the table startles me. Pat furrows
his brow. Shit…
[Seriously? He was going to tackle me.]
"Come on, isn't it better this way? I told you not to fight again.
We're graduating soon, Wai. Don't you want the juniors to stop
getting in fights?"
[Fine, if the douche doesn't start.]
"You promised you'd be calmer."
[Yeah, I know…]
 "Hey!"
[What? What's happening?!]
I almost covered my mouth when I shouted in shock. Just now,
Pat suddenly sat behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist
tightly. I try to shove his stomach with my elbow, but the hug is too
tight that I can't move. Afraid Wai will find out I'm not alone, I keep
my mouth shut.
"N…Nothing."
[But are you sure you're okay? You've been acting strange. It's
weird.]
"I'm fine. Don't worry."
[Are you working on the project?]
Smooch.
What?!
I jumped, getting kissed on the nape of my neck.
[Pran?]
"I…I'm working on it. Gotta hang up now. See you tomorrow,
Wai."
[Yeah, all right. I'm glad you're okay. See you.]
As soon as I've hung up, I'm ready to deal with this ill–
mannered punk. But his embrace glues to me.
"Let me go!"
"No can do. I'm punishing you for telling that wimp I came to
apologize for beating his ass."
"Pat, you shit, don't be ridiculous. Let me go!"
"No."
"Let me go now!"
"No. You'll hit me if I do."
"Pat!"
"Shush, you're too loud. The neighbor will hear us."
I tsk, jerking my head away from the shushing near my ears.
"Your sister will hear us!"
"Right. You want Par to know what we're going to do?"
"Do what?! Let me go right now."
"No."
"Will you let me go or not?"
 "Nooooo."
"Wanna sleep outside?"
"I'll let you go this instant."
Pat pulls his arms back and springs up the moment I'm set
free. I can only glower and point at his face.
"Don't get ahead of yourself, Pat."
"What? Was it wrong to hug my lover?"
I grab a cutter next to me and narrow my eyes until the playful
guy gives me a sheepish smile. It hasn't been a day and he's already
this cheeky. Pat is truly the master of being a shameless, handsy
pervert.
"Stay away from me, or I'll slash your face."
"I want to sleep next to you."
"I have a project to work on."
"I can help."
"You think I forgot the disaster you brought upon my previous
model?"
Imagining Pat helping me draw the zones and plan gives me a
headache. Someone like him would locate a Jacuzzi bathtub in the
center of a hotel without considering the system and maintenance,
followed by presenting the activity with girls in swimming suits
serving cocktails to the customers as a special service.
"Don't hold a grudge."
"Go to bed."
"I'm upset that you keep shooing me away."
"Quit blabbering."
"I can't sleep without Fragrant. Only your scent can substitute
for it. I need to hug you to sleep."
"You slept just fine when you left Shabby in my room."
"I couldn't sleep a wink."
"Shut up and go to bed. I'm working."
"I'll wait here."
I glance at him. This brat plops down on the couch and puts a
pillow on his lap. He turns on the TV and pouts, looking displeased.
How old are you?
 Pretending not to notice him trying to get my attention, I sigh
one last time, pick up a pencil, and focus on my work. I can't help
smiling a little, hearing him huff from time to time to remind me he's
right there.
Another yawn.
I press my lips together, stifling my smile, losing count of his
yawns. The clock shows it's almost two in the morning. Why is he so
stubborn? He'd usually go to bed first. Why so persistent today? My
project won't be completed at this rate.
"Ha…" I exhale, push the Japanese table away, and stretch,
then I frown at the guy on the couch. His eyes are red, forced to stay
awake. "Get up and go to bed."
"…"
"What's with the sulky face? Won't you go to bed? I'll continue
working on my project, then."
"Damn you."
"What?"
"I've waited for hours, but you only called me once. Comfort
me."
"Don't play hard to get. Get up now." He's still ignoring me.
Since when is he this difficult? "Will you go to bed or not? I won't let
you hug me tonight if you don't."
"Let's go to bed!"
The sulky guy jumps up with a grin and wags his tail before I
can speak another word…You damn pervert!
Who would've thought Pat is such a clingy, whining bastard?
He's quit visiting the bar for the past several days and clung to me in
my room every night. It hindered my working process. He kept
calling, poking, chatting that it was irksome. When I scolded him, he
would sit back for a moment before beginning to disturb me again.
"Oh, Pran."
I open the door and see Par coming out of her room while
putting her backpack on.
"Got afternoon classes?"
"Yes. What about you, Pran? Why are you still in casual
clothes?"
 "The afternoon classes got canceled," I explain, locking the
door. "I went to the uni to have my project assessed in the morning. I
just got here seconds ago."
"I see. Is Pat bothering you?"
I shake my head. "Not more than before."
Par laughs. "Where are you going, anyway?"
"The convenience store downstairs. Let's go together."
As the elevator goes down, we chat about school, friends, and
finally, her brother.
"I'm still relieved that you forgave Pat. When he came back to
get his plush, he smiled so hard."
"If not for you, I wouldn't have given him a chance."
"Come on, he'd cry if he heard you."
I ruffle Par's hair as the elevator reaches the ground floor. She
says bye after the steel door opens, and we split at the entrance. I
watch until she's gone and head the convenience store.
We ran out of condensed milk two days ago. I don't know why
Pat loves it so much. It's gone in the blink of an eye every time. And
Pat wouldn't stop grumbling when none was left. I sweep the instant
noodles and porridge in the basket. Next, I open the fridge and take
some juice boxes for Pat and a few cans of coffee for myself.
Judging from my project assessment this morning, I might have to
stay up late tonight.
It takes a while to put everything in the fridge, then I start
cleaning up. The last time I cleaned my room was last Wednesday.
I've been busy bickering with Pat that my room became so messy. I
start from the living room to the bedroom. While pulling the bed
sheet, I spot a shabby plush bunny of the person sharing the bed
with me. I pick up the tip of its dark ear with my thumb and forefinger
and cringe. How could he sniff it every night?
Saliva, dust, and bacteria. Ugh, it feels like I'll break out a rash!
Unable to stand it, I carry the bunny by its ear and head to the
bathroom. I grab a small basin and shake my head at the sight of
this shabby bunny.
"Let's wash you up. Don't be nasty as your daddy."
"I'm baaaaack."
 The voice from the door makes my hands freeze in the air. I'm
hanging both ears of the bunny, which is now a lot whiter and
cleaner than ever.
"What are you doing?" Pat asks delightfully, poking his head
around the balcony's door. "I bought the ingredients for sukiyaki. I
remember you have the pot. Can you…Pran!"
"What?! Why are you shouting?" I lowered my hand once the
plush was successfully hung, but I almost knocked it away as Pat's
voice scared me.
"Why did you wash Fragrant?!"
"It was dirty. I needed to clean it since you hug it on my bed
every night."
"I've never washed it since I bought it! It's been ten years. How
could you do this to me?!!"
"Fuck! You've never washed it for ten years. Did you plan to
build a bacteria farm? Ugh, if I'd known, I wouldn't have let it touch
my bed."
"Pran!" Baby Napat yells in irritation. He looks pissed but
doesn't know how to express it. "The smell will be different. I can't let
it happen. Damn it!"
"Don't be silly. I just washed it. Be grateful I didn't throw it
away."
"I don't care. I'm upset."
He stomps inside and slumps into the couch. I follow him in
and close the balcony door, sighing at his attitude. Why is he so
distressed over a plush?
"Where are the ingredients? You want sukiyaki?"
"…"
"Pat."
"…"
Pat still pulls a sullen face and stares ahead like a primary
schooler refusing to eat vegetables.
"You won't talk to me? Well, whatever."
"Pran!"
"What now?"
"You're being too mean to me."
 "Mean? You're being so childish."
"Kiss my cheeks to comfort me."
"How about I kick your cheeks?"
"You're in the wrong here!"
"How am I in the wrong for washing your Fragrant?"
"I'm not used to the smell!"
"You shouldn't be used to that stinky smell, anyway. If you're
not considerate of me as the room owner, you should be considerate
of me as the person sleeping next to you."
Pat pouts and stomps towards me, so loud I'm afraid the
neighbors will curse us.
"What?" Why is he leaning his face to me?
"Kiss my cheek."
"Are you crazy?"
"I don't care." Pat looks serious, leaning in closer. "Kiss my
cheeks to make up for it. Both cheeks."
Ha.
I snort while the other guy closes his eyes, waiting for the touch
he desires.
SLAP!
"Ouch!"
Pat gets startled and jumps away. He holds his cheek and
sulks.
"I told you to kiss my cheeks!" He roars. "And you slapped
me?"
"Stop this shit. I'll make sukiyaki for you."
"It really hurts."
"It wasn't that hard. Don't be a crybaby. You didn't whine this
much when you broke your head."
"Well, my wifey didn't break it."
"Pat."
I call his name evenly, scowling to show him this begins to be
aggravating. He should stop joking now. Receiving a warning from
my glare, Pat mumbles to himself. I leave him there and search for
the sukiyaki pot in the cabinet. I wash the container and the
vegetables Pat bought, then I put them on a plate. Next, I cut the
pork into bite–sized pieces. I carry every step on my own without
help from the future engineer. He's cupping his cheek and whining in
front of the TV.
"All right, come and eat." By the time I'm done seasoning the
broth, the evening cooking show has ended. Pat turns my way,
looking unreasonably sullen, but he walks here and sits next to me
obediently.
"Why don't you tell Par to join us? She might be home."
"No, I want to have this with you alone."
"You're stingy even to your sister?"
"I'm not. I just want to spend time with you alone."
I press my lips tightly, frown, and put the vegetables into the
pot without a word.
After the meal, I take a shower immediately to avoid fighting
with Pat. He kept asking to do it together. I know he wasn't serious
about it and just feeling me out. I mean, it's great for him if I say yes.
If I say no, at least he's given it a try. But honestly, it's getting
bothersome. When I've finished, the endlessly irrational guy quits
whining and storms into the bathroom. He must still be pissed about
the now clean and fragrant Shabby on the bed.
Once we're all clean, I continue with my project. I relent a bit
and work on the bed so that Pat can sleep whenever he wants. No
need to stick around like a shadow and worry me with his countless
yawns.
"Put your foreleg away."
I slap his arm as he scooches in and places his arm around my
waist. I'm leaning my back against the bedhead, a pillow on my lap
with a laptop on top. The other guy is cuddling his plush close to me.
"I'm just hugging you. Don't be stingy."
"You're annoying. Go to bed."
"Noooooo."
I'm about to tell him off when his phone rings beside his pillow.
Pat rolls away to check who it is and picks up. I roll my eyes as he
flings his arm back to its recent place.
"What's up? Yeah, I'm not going out anymore."
 I glance at the guy who's on the phone and moving his head
closer.
"I'm with my lover. Right, it's none of your business. Hanging
up. I'm going to cuddle my darling. You son of a bitch, so nosy."
Pat laughs and hangs up before throwing his phone away
mindlessly. He takes the chance as I let my guard down to put his
head on my lap and looks at my laptop screen, chatting away.
"What are you working on?"
"How smooth. Get away from my lap. I'm working."
"Go on. I'm not bothering you at all."
"You're not bothering me? Get up!"
"No. Fragrant smells weird. I'm not used to it. I want to smell
your scent."
Pat turns around and snuggles up against my belly. His hand
makes its way to my back and crawls under my shirt. The moment
his fingers touch the skin over the waistband, I'm startled and hit his
shoulder.
"Ouch! Pran, that hurts!!"
"Serves you right. Stop fooling around. If you don't stay still, I'll
work on my project outside!"
"Can't I do this much? What the heck?"
His mumble is indecipherable. Pat strokes his shoulder with a
frown and moves to the side, only a little bit. I glower at him as a
warning and pretend to gather my things to work outside as I've
threatened.
Seeing my action, the greedy guy stops coming closer. I sigh at
his daily mischief.
Although our relationship has changed, he's still the same…but
more handsy!
 | SCENE TWELVE |
Pat | talk

"How's your project going?"

On Tuesday afternoon, I'm chilling out on the ground floor of
the faculty building and writing the paper on one of the main subjects
due this midnight. Gon just got back from the cafeteria and put fried
fish rugby balls on the table. I take my legs off the other chair, eyes
glued to the laptop screen.
"It needs some revision."
"Right, what a damn pain."
"It's normal," I reply, not complaining. Pran's project looks more
arduous that my professor's strictness in improvement feels like
nothing. "Haven't you eaten?"
"No. I got up late. Spent all night on this paper. You haven't
finished it, huh? I knew it."
"It'll be done in a minute," I laugh, chewing on the gum.
"How calm and happy you are. Did you really get yourself a
lover?"
"Why? Can't a face like mine get one?"
"It's not about your face. It's your personality," Gon guffaws and
pushes my head. I don't care. "Who is it? Why don't you introduce
your lover? Can you pamper someone, by the way? You usually
complained."
"My lover's not a demanding person. I'm the clingy one."
"You? Well, I wish I could see you with your lover."
"It's an exclusive moment." I wink, and Gon laughs. Moments
later, Jor and some of the juniors join us. One of them is Poom, the
head of the academic section of the same year.
"Pat, Sports Day is in the next two weeks. Will you be our
basketball player?"
 "Why don't you choose the juniors?"
"I did, but we need more. Just join the team. The first match is
against Architecture. They're probably sending their aces. Who
would beat them if not you?"
"Oh, yeah?" I blow a bubble. "Finish my paper and I'll do it."
I lift my eyebrow at the four–eyed nerd. Poom heaves a sigh
while the other guys shake their heads.
"What a moron, Pat."
"You need to give me something in exchange."
Poom hesitates but finally nods in agreement. "Send me the
file."
"It's due at midnight."
"Okay, I'll write my name on the email."
Whoa, this punk. Since when did he get so wicked? I stand up,
lock his neck with my arm, and mess up his hair. Poom pounds my
back so hard that I have to release him.
"Why don't you two just get married?"
"Shit, I got goosebumps," I cuss and take a few steps away.
Poom adjusts his glasses and scowls at me.
"Even though Pat's handsome, I won't date him. He's a
douche."
"You said that to me?" I elbow him gently. "Who are you calling
a douche? Huh?"
"Hey, is that Pran?" Jor cuts in as I tease Poom again. Pran is
walking along the opposite path with Waiyakorn. Just the two of
them. I rest my elbow on the shoulder of the academic section head
the moment the targeted guy turns his head this way. Our eyes
meet, so I give him a smile, lift my eyebrow, and blow a kiss at him.
The kiss receiver averts his gaze and quickens his pace without a
word. His friend looks terrified and trails after him like a baby duck.
"Hey, he didn't pull a face at us today."
Since everyone focuses on the outsider, I can smile as much
as I want. When I spin and meet Gon's stare, I swiftly excuse myself
for a smoke.
"I'll go with you."
 "I'm leaving my laptop with you, Jor," I say and head behind the
building, the smoking area for these two best friends.
"Those idiots keep teasing Poom and you. Aren't you mad?"
My eyes follow the white smoke floating in the air as I lean my
back against the peeling concrete wall. There's a long crack on it,
the evidence of long use. Gon squats, flicks the ashes off, and
inhales the smoke.
"Mad about what?"
"Being teased as gay."
"Why do you tease a gay?"
"Shit," he swears and spits on the grass growing out a crack on
the concrete ground. "You know this is Thailand. Being gay isn't
widely accepted. If the guys know you're one, you might be in
trouble."
"You're talking as if I'm really gay."
"I don't know," he murmurs, irritated. "I just guess."
"Because I'm not too enthusiastic about girls like you and the
guys?"
"That too. You're not so eager. I don't know. We're at this wild
age, after all. You know, despite your nasty and unkempt behaviors,
you're so good–looking that you can have as many girlfriends as you
want."
"Well, I'm in a relationship now. What more do you want?" I
smirk while the guy, who's trying to corner me, takes another long
drag. "Say what you have to say."
"You're the one hiding something," Gon's voice is stern. My
eyes are locked on the white clouds above. They're moving
incredibly slowly. In a brief moment, they completely cover the sun,
shielding us from the strong sunlight. "I went to your condo the other
day to use Wi–Fi. I was there and saw Pran taking the elevator, so I
hid and sneaked out."
"Uh–huh."
"I thought it was a coincidence, but just now…I don't know.
You've locked yourself home recently. Did you hide someone there?"
"Pran just happens to be in the same condo as mine. I'm not
hiding anyone in my room." But I'm hiding in Pran's room. "Did you
tell anyone about this?"
"It's as much of a secret as your Fragrant."
"Yeah, thanks for not kicking a fuss about it."
"Well, you're my best friend," Gon voices, taking one last drag
and throwing the cigarette away. He exhales and walks straight to
meet my gaze. "It's not like I don't accept it. But you know the
consequences if you and that bastard are actually a thing."
"I thought you guys would stop picking a fight after the
professor's warning."
"I don't want to, but we can't just kiss and make up with them,
can't we?"
"You're blabbering nonsense, Gon."
"You're pretty simple and easy–going, but not everyone is like
you, Pat." I already know it. Damn, I wouldn't have kept it a secret
otherwise. "I'm warning you out of worry."
I tilt my head, accepting his goodwill. I toss my cigarette on the
ground and stomp on it. I'm all right, you know.
It's Pran I'm worried about.
I can spend time alone with Pran after sunset. I listen to the
sound of a pencil lead on a piece of paper, staring at the side profile
of the guy concentrating on his project.
Pran looks so cool when he's working hard like this.
"Pran, do you want some sweet drink?"
"What?"
"Your face." I point at his brow, and Pran looks up from his
plan. I've started to learn how to be with him without being a bother.
No, I mean, I've started to learn how to be with him while trying my
best not to be a bother. "You're frowning."
"Well, I'm working."
"Do you want something sweet?"
"Ice cream."
"I'll get it for you."
"Later. It'll dirty the plan."
"I'll feed you, then."
I jump off the couch and dash to the fridge, not hearing any
refuses. Pran's medium–sized fridge contains condensed milk, fresh
milk, bottles of water and beer, fruits, energy drinks, and coffee cans,
with ice cream in the top freezer. He's loved it since we were kids,
but he was too slow back then. I had to run outside and wait for the
ice cream car, then I would quarrel with the seller to stall for time
until Pran showed up. But he'd scold me, calling me a troublemaker.
How ungrateful.
"Open up."
I take a spoonful of soft ice cream from the oval–shaped plastic
container and hold out the spoon to the room owner. Pran opens his
mouth with no complaint. I taste it from time to time as I feed him.
The TV is left on because Pran wouldn't talk to me. Fragrant is there
next to the TV, my shoes are rested by the door, and my workshop
shirt is hung in his closet. My stuff got transferred here little by little
until Pran's room became ours.
"Isn't it chilly?" I ponder and turn up the AC temperature, then I
deliver another spoonful into the parted reddened lips. I lick my
mouth, imagining how cool our lips will feel when I press mine on his.
The thought of kissing Pran emerged since the forceful kiss that day.
It's not an impressive memory, and I wish for another chance.
Hilariously, I keep waiting for the chance to come.
"Pran," I call and move closer. He mumbles a response in his
throat, eyes stuck on the plan. "Pran."
"What?"
"Pran."
Pran finally turns his head at the third call, and our noses
brush. I'm frozen still, contrary to my pounding heart. He drops his
gaze to my lips, showing his appealing, extravagant eyelashes. The
pleasant, mild scent coming off him is unlike no other. It's mixed with
the sweet smell of ice cream, and the coldness still sticks on our lips.
I lean in, confident that he won't pull away. When I'm going in for a
taste, someone knocks on the door. Pran rises on his feet and
covers his mouth even though we didn't actually kiss.
"Damn you, I can never let my guard down."
"What? You wanted to kiss me as well. Why blaming me?"
"You're the only one full of these perverted thoughts."
 "Perverted? Relationships require development. You think I'd
stop at holding your hand while sleeping? No way."
"Shit, why did you say it out loud, Pat?"
"It's the truth. Don't tell me you've never thought of me during
masturbation. You must've done it even for a short moment."
"Fucking disgusting. You…"
"Pran, who else is there?" The yell outside breaks off our
conversation. The room owner closes his mouth and presses his lips
together. I shut my mouth as well.
"Pran!"
"Yes!" He shouts back a reply, pushes me out the balcony, and
locks the door from the inside. He pulls the curtain close and cries
out. "Wait a sec!"
It's like I'm a fucking adulterer. Why the hell am I put in this
situation? I peep through the curtain. A transparent glass door
behind the blackout curtain is the only thing dividing the balcony and
the inside. It's not soundproof, so I can hear everything Pran talks to
his friend, which means I also need to be as quiet as I can.
"What were you doing?"
Waiyakorn, you motherfucker, why do you come to see Pran so
often? You lack love and attention or something?
"I was cutting my model. Pretty caught up."
"Hey, why are you eating ice cream while cutting the model?
It'll get dirty."
"Right, I know."
Waiyakorn shakes his head and puts the lid on the melting ice
cream.
"You love it so much that you store it?"
"Yeah. What brings you here, by the way?"
"Oh, our flash drives were switched." He picks up the black
flash drive out of his backpack. They look exactly the same. Are you
using matching stuff? Damn it, you fucking monkey. "I have to submit
my work tonight. That's why I rushed here. It has to be fixed."
"I'll go and get yours. I haven't taken a look. It's in my
backpack."
 "Did you buy new shoes?" Can you stop wandering around
someone else's room? He pokes my footwear with his foot. That's a
brand new Adidas, you prick. "Pran, since when did you have a
plush?"
"It's my friend's. Put it down."
"Which friend?" he queries.
Tell him it belongs to your lover. Pran remains silent and takes
it away from Wai.
"Here's your flash drive. Now leave. Aren't you in a hurry?"
"Not that much, actually. I just got here. Let me rest a bit. Oh,
do you have a guest? I heard you talk to someone."
"It was the TV." That's not convincing at all. Pran averts his
eyes after lying. Good thing his friend is a blockhead, so he buys it. I
shift, attempting to get the most unobstructed view, but I still miss
some corners. "Your room is speckless. My room is a mess."
"You know I don't like my room messy."
"Uh–huh, me neither. But I don't clean my room as often as
you. Is your washing machine on the balcony?"
"Yes. Wait, what are you going to do?"
"I'm going to watch the view."
Crap! What a perfect time to be aesthetic! My eyes flick back
and forth. I don't want Pran's friend to see me in this state. What
state? I'm in Rilakkuma pajamas with long sleeves and legs.
"Hold on."
"Why?"
"It's untidy out there," Pran tries to stall for time as I have to
escape. Right! I have to escape! I crane my neck over the balcony
fence. It's ten stories high. For fuck's sake, my body will be
unrecognizable if I fall.
"It's all right. My room is a lot messier than yours. Come on, I'm
pretty stressed out. Your room seems to have a nice view."
"You…" The room owner's attempt is worthless. The door is
slid open the instant I jump over to the balcony of my apartment and
duck behind the ventilator. The thud from my weight reaches Par,
who's playing on the phone inside her room. She gets up and steps
towards me, and I signal to her to stop. She peers at the next
balcony. Pran's friend rests his arms on the fence, staring straight
ahead.
How fucking relaxing!
"Crawl in slowly, Pat."
"Fuck, my foot hurts."
"Did you twist your ankle? Let me see."
I stretch my leg for my sister to take a look. Par sighs and
presses her fingers on my muscles, frowning. "It seems like you
twisted it. How could you jump here? It's dangerous. What would I
tell Dad and Mom if you fell?"
"I'm a man, Par. I'd choose death over getting looked down on.
Ever heard of it?"
"Yes, but I have no idea who would look down on you. Were
you afraid Pran's friend would scuffle you? I told you not to pick a
fight. See? Now that you're Pran's friend, you still have to avoid his
friends."
"This is not about fights." You think I'm afraid of him? Wai is as
tiny as a bug. I can crush him with a few punches.
Par gets the first aid kit containing some ointment and elastic
bandages. I'll survive tonight. "Should we use a cold pack before
wrapping your ankle?"
"Whatever. I have a basketball match against Pran and his
friends in the next two weeks."
"Just think of it as giving them an advantage. Engineering beat
Architecture every year."
I have no comment. My sister gets up to put some ice in a
small cloth, then she gently presses it on my ankle. After a moment,
she barks a laugh, making me look up. A mocking grin is plastered
over her face.
"I think I understand now what you meant by getting looked
down on."
"What?"
"The Rilakkuma pajamas I bought you. You didn't want to be
teased, huh? It's cute."
I pull a face, not talking back. If it weren't Par, any kid who did
this to me would be put on their deathbeds. Okay, the clothes are
soft and comfy, but it aggravates me to think I had to jump in the air
to hide from my boyfriend's friend because of it.
"I never forced you to wear them. I just bought them as a gift.
Don't sulk when you were the one putting it on."
"The fabric is soft," I say, and Pran doesn't deny it. Pran paid
no attention to me even if I threw these on. I should've worn a
normal T–shirt and football shorts as usual. The girl who bought this
gift beams. She applies some ointment on my ankle after pressing
the cold pack until my ankle feels numb.
"You're adorable, Pat."
"And handsome."
"Yes, and handsome. And stupid. I'm amused."
The three–year gap between our ages means nothing to my
only sister. Par swathes my ankle in an elastic bandage, a gentle
smile still hanging on her lips.
"All right, it'll get better tomorrow. Go to bed."
"Wait."
"Oh, you forgot Fragrant there, right? I can go and get it."
"No need to," I oppose and slowly rise. I can limp to Pran's
room, but I should sit and rest for a while. "I'll sleep there."
"Ever since you two made up, you never slept in your own
room anymore," Par teases. I can feel the heat running up my ears.
Good thing the light in her room is orange. She won't notice.
"Shut up. Go and check if his friend has left."
Par laughs and heads to the balcony. She cranes her neck out
and comes back. "Still there. I'll recheck it in five minutes."
Yeah, that's how a sister should act, you damn kid.
 | SCENE THIRTEEN |
Pran | talk

"Pran, are you okay? Your face looks pale."

I'm startled when Wai's cold hand touches my forehead. I was
distracted by the person who's supposedly hiding on the balcony.
Where did he go? How could he disappear from the exposed
balcony on the tenth floor?
"I…I'm fine." My brow furrows. "You should leave now. You
have work to do."
"I think the project stresses you out too much. Did you get any
sleep?"
"I did. You're the one who should rest."
Wai stares at me, bemused, and nods. "All right, I'm leaving.
Are you going to sleep tonight? If not, I'll call you when you're
sleepy."
"I'm probably sleeping tonight. I stayed up all night yesterday."
"Okay, I'll be off so you can continue working and go to bed
soon."
I nod and see him off at the door, trying my best not to show
anxiety through my expression or eyes. I want Wai to get out of here
and shut the door quickly so that I can hurry to check on the guy with
an unknown status.
"See you tomorrow."
Wai smiles and waves goodbye. I return a smile and wave him
away a few times before slamming the door shut. As soon as I
release the doorknob, I take long steps towards the balcony.
FWIP!
"Pat!"
I slide the door open rapidly and look around back and forth.
With no single soul in sight, I grip the fence and gaze down. I know I
shouldn't jump to a conclusion, but my body acts on its own.
"What? You think I'm dead?"
I halt and turn towards the familiar annoying voice. "Pat."
"You're worried, huh?"
I frown, not amused. "Is it so funny?"
"Hey, don't sulk. I'm not messing with you. That monkey
suddenly wanted to enjoy the view on the balcony. What was I
supposed to do?"
"…" I press my lips together and look away, knowing none of
this is his fault. I can't help feeling pissed, though. This frustration
blooms from the fact that I couldn't do anything at all.
"Hey, Pran! Don't leave. I can't cross over. Will you give me a
hand?" I walk away, ignoring him. I'm halfway through the door when
his following words stop me in place. "I twisted my ankle when I
jumped over here."
"What did you say?"
"I twisted my ankle. It hurts…" Pat pulls a sad face.
I heave a long sigh. "Did you treat it?"
"Yes…I mean, no. Par wouldn't help me."
I narrow my eyes at his awkward movements. It's as if he feels
guilty. "It's because you're an idiot."
"It hurts like hell. You gotta help me." Pat is about to climb over
the fence. The action makes me glower.
"Are you fucking crazy?"
"Huh? You're not helping and now cussing at me."
"Do you want to fall for real? Come here by the front door!"
"Oh…" He voices and nods as if just realizing it. Should I be
surprised if a halfwit like him falls and dies?
"It's because of that monkey that I got hurt. Didn't you see that I
did nothing and he put me in trouble?"
I sit still as Pat complains and blames Wai like a kid explaining
the situation to their parents so that he won't get scold for dirtying his
shirt. "You have to deal with him for me."
"Deal with him about what? He just came to get his thing. Stay
still. I can't press the ice pack."
"It's cold!"
 "Well, it's ice. Don't move. It will spill."
I lower my voice and seize the rim of the basin. Otherwise, Pat
will flip it. Now that I'm icing his ankle, I know he's a fucking liar. The
smell of ointment is so sharp, but he insists Par didn't treat it. What a
blatant lie.
I want to tell him off, but the sight of his swollen, red ankle
changes my mind. I can treat it again if it puts him at ease.
I wet the cloth with ice wrapped inside and press it on Pat's
ankle. I put a little pressure on the swollen area, as I found on the
internet just now. The unusual silence makes me put my head up. I
know I'm wrong once I meet his eyes. The corner of Pat's lips curl up
in a small smile, and the meaningful gaze is fixed on me. Feeling the
heat in my cheeks, I drop my eyes and focus on his ankle.
"Pran."
"What?"
"The basketball competition is in two weeks. The first match is
Engineering versus Architecture."
"Yeah, I know."
"Are you playing?"
"I am. Wai registered my name."
"That fucker again."
"He's my friend."
"But I'm your boyfriend."
I sigh, tilting my head, at a loss for words. "Well, yes. Why do
you ask, though?"
"I'm also playing."
"I'm not surprised. But if you don't stop moving, your unhealed
ankle will take your name off the list."
"Well, I have to play. How can't I when you're playing too?"
"Haven't we competed enough?" I snicker, grabbing the dry
cloth beside me to wipe his ankle. I wrap an elastic bandage around
his ankle and put his foot down, then I get up. "All right, done. Clean
up. I'm going to work on my project."
"It's almost midnight. You didn't sleep a wink yesterday."
"Just one more hour."
"Your one hour means until the birds chirp at dawn every time."
 "Come on, it's literally one hour today."
"I'll set the alarm."
"Do whatever you want, but clean up first."
Pat mumbles something quietly, but I ignore it. I seat myself at
my desk and proceed to work. I've already wasted time on stupid
stuff for around an hour. Please bring back my working time.
"Ugh, I'm pooped."
Hearing the sound of the door unlocked, I raise my head from
the plan before me. The guy who asked for a duplicate key two days
ago appears with a moan.
"You're late today."
"Yeah, the last day was tough. Did you get home early? You
smell good after a shower."
"Do not come closer." I point a scale ruler at Pat's face
threateningly at the second he's about to charge here to hug me with
all the sweat. "Take a shower."
"I only took three steps in, and you're already telling me to take
a shower. Can't I catch my breath first?"
"Go and catch your breath in the bathroom. You make my room
smell bad."
"That's harsh. You never go easy on me."
"Shut up."
Pat smiles widely and steps closer to me. "Your face is red. Are
you sick?"
"A little."
"Did you take medicine?"
"Of course. I'm not like you."
"Hey, why did you say that when I'm just worried? I only have
one boyfriend. If I can't be worried about you, who am I supposed to
be worried about? Hmm?"
"Go away quickly," I growl. I quit bickering with Pat and turn my
attention to the plan.
Pat laughs merrily and disappears into the bathroom. How
happy he is when I get ticked off.
For the past several days, the Architecture basketball players
practiced after classes regularly, at least two or three hours a day.
The practice got more intense as the competition approached. It was
kind of fun at first since I got to exercise. But gradually, the
overworked muscles took their toll, causing a fever. Besides the
basketball practice, after showering and changing clothes, I had to
work on my project until dawn. The competition didn't postpone the
thesis due date, after all.
Pat was no different. His team practiced hard. We both came
home soaked in sweat. He'd drag himself into the bathroom and then
lay down dead next to me as I worked. It was more troublesome for
him with his injured ankle. Pat would grumble about how painful it
was from time to time and ask me to apply the ointment for him or
help him with a warm compress. His condition worries me.
The competition is tomorrow…I hope his ankle will be fully
recovered.
The gymnasium is filled with excitement like this every year.
The Engineering and Architecture teams have stood by the court in
basketball uniforms with the cheering crowd on both sides. They're
ready to shout and scream at each other to show off their
dominance. Many students from different faculties also gather here
to watch our match.
I sweep my eyes across the crowd, and my heart beats faster.
Pat stands among his friends on the other side. He bends down and
strokes his ankle as if to make sure it's healed. The moment he
looks up and catches my eyes, I jump a little like I've been caught
doing something wrong. When Pat makes a face that says, 'You
were looking at me, right?' it only rubs salt in my wound. Despite the
irritation, his mocking gaze calms my nerves. I try to look over his
attempt to mess with me and avert my attention to something else,
not letting anyone notice our interaction. In contrast, Pat still gives
me a smile without care.
Are you afraid people won't find out, flirting with me at every
chance you get?
Once the game starts, my nervousness vanishes. My
teammates' movements and the orange ball are the only things in
my mind. The first quarter has passed, but the scores still don't
change. The Engineering team is as in form as ever. No matter how
many times we competed, our team has always been inferior in
strength. It can't be helped. We can never beat those bulks in power.
We need to use our brains.
"Pran! Take this!!"
I nod when Wai yells from a corner of the court. The orange
ball flies over and lands into my hands. I use the chance when a
small gap allows me to dart through, then I dash to the goal, hop up,
and throw the ball into the hoop at high speed. The sound of the ball
plummeting in the air through the net and hitting the ground is
incredibly satisfying, making the crowd roar. The Engineering team
doesn't look too pleased about us in the lead. The game is heating
up.
In the second quarter, I have one more problem. Besides
focusing on the match, I'm worried about Pat's ankle. I saw him trip
and sway a little seconds ago. Even though he balanced himself
before he could fall down, the wince told me it must've been painful.
"Pran!"
And Pat is still running around the court. What if the injury
worsens? Why doesn't their coach switch the players? Doesn't he
see that Pat is limping?
"Pran! Shit, Pran!!"
I frown as Pat meets my gaze and widens his eyes in shock.
He gestures to my right and rushes to me. When I turn my head to
the right, the soaring ball startles me. It's too close to be dodged.
BAM!
"Ah!"
THUD!
"Pran!!"
The ball hits my head directly and sends me to the floor. I feel
dizzy. The shouts and whistles are blasting while my vision blurs,
failing to take in the surrounding. All I know is a bunch of people are
running in and circling me.
Someone touches my arm and face.
"Pran! Are you okay? Look at me, Pran. Shit, you have a
nosebleed. Did it hit your nose?"
 I hear the familiar voice. When my vision is finally clear, the first
thing I see is Pat's flustered expression. I still can't pull myself
together and feel lost, so I let him lift my chin and wipe my nose with
the hem of his basketball shirt.
"What the fuck? Don't touch my friend!" This is Wai's voice.
"Fuck off, you son of a bitch. Don't touch me!"
"You fucking bastard!"
"Not now, Wai. Look at Pran."
The voices coming from Pat, Wai, Ke, and many others
reverberate and make me feel woozy. My head hurts too much to
care who is talking.
"Pran, I'll take you to the nurse's office. Can you get up? Get on
my back."
"Um…" I wince with the pain from my temples. I grab my head
and shut my eyes tightly.
"Your head hurts? Where else does it hurt? Tell me."
I can still hear Pat's voice near my ears, but my head feels so
heavy that I fail to utter a word. The world is tilting, making me lose
balance. All the noises fade away slowly. When I feel the wind
blowing across my face, everything turns silent.
I open my eyes to the white ceiling, still feeling muzzy. The
weight in my head hinders me from raising my head. I can only
glance at the side and find out I'm on a bed in the nurse's office,
shielded by the blue curtain.
"Get out of here!"
"You get out. I'm going to check on Pran!"
"Why the fuck do you want to see my friend? The competition
is over, so get the fuck away."
Pat and Wai are at each other's throats behind the curtain. It
sounds pretty far. Suddenly, the image of Pat rushing towards me
flashes in my mind.
This is fucked up…
FWIP.
I jump when the curtain is drawn open. Ke is the one doing it.
"How are you feeling, Pran?"
"Um…I'm okay. It's just this headache."
 "Good. Your head is swollen and bruised a little, but the nurse
said it's not serious. You probably got hit too hard by the ball that you
had a nosebleed."
I nod. "…How did I get here?"
"…" Ke stares at me quietly and sits down on the edge of the
bed. "Pat carried you here."
"…"
His answer has me speechless. Silence fills the room, not a
single question asked. I press my lips together in distress. As the
tension increases, Ke speaks first.
"You two don't hate each other as we believed, right?"
"…"
"What I saw today contradicted everything I'd seen before."
"…"
"The way he looked at you wasn't the way one would look at
someone they hate."
"I…"
"Lucky for our team that you were unconscious," Wai says
evenly, walking in, and I turn my head to him abruptly. When our
eyes meet, I drop my gaze to my hands and swallow hard, my hands
damp in sweat. "If you could open your eyes, I might've seen that the
way you'd look at him was the same way he looked at you."
I save my breath, only frowning at my hands quietly, not
knowing what to say. I know everything has happened for real. I
must've been so happy that I forgot who I am, what I'm doing, what
I'm hiding, and what I'm carrying on my shoulders.
I must've forgotten that my relationship with Pat is not
something people around me can accept. I want to smack my own
face for being so stupid and ruining everything. I thought I was
holding everything in my hands carefully enough. But as it turned
out, I threw everything on the ground myself.
I was so foolish that I even forgot my own fear…And now my
terror is taking shape. I guess things would be as I expected.
When the secret is no longer a secret…something might
disappear.
 | SCENE FOURTEEN |
Pat | talk

Pran: I'm fine now. You leave first. Let's talk later.
After a long attempt to see Pran, I received a soothing, short
message from the person I'm worried about. Pran was distracted
today. I noticed since he'd never been like that. I kept my eyes on
him all the time, and I wasn't the only one catching his vulnerable
moment. The junior from my team did and grabbed the chance to
attack Pran. I was a little angry that Pran wasn't careful, but I was
more upset with myself for failing to block that son of a bitch.
"Pat!"
Someone shouts my name as I walk past the faculty building.
Good grief, I don't want to face these guys right now. I'm not ready to
answer any questions. Jor gestures to me to come, with Poom and
the other kids by his side. It looks like they've been waiting for my
arrival after I ran off with the Architecture players before the match
ended.
"You're all here. How was it? You guys won, right? I scored a
lot."
"Yeah," Poom replies curtly, eyes on me, not even blinking. He
turns to Gon, but he shrugs as if having no idea how to carry on with
the conversation. Of course, I have to say something at this point.
"Why don't we celebrate this evening?"
"That's for sure. But what's the deal with you and Pran?"
"What? I just showed some kindness as a human being."
"Pat, this is not the time to lie."
"Oh, what answer do you want?" I laugh, acting unbothered,
yet these guys don't feel the same. "As the professor said, don't you
think it'll be better if we call a truce? I've been mulling over it, you
know. We work in the same field. What if we end up in the same
company and have to work together after graduation? Wouldn't it be
awkward?"
"It's been this way since the past generations. Why are you
suddenly worried about the future?"
"It doesn't mean the past generations are always right. You
gotta realize it as the professor did. That's why he wants us to stop
fighting with them."
I tilt my head. Judging from each of their expression, it's
obvious they're unable to understand what I'm trying to convey. It's
been drilled in us for over three years. We've been enemies since
the admission until this second. Although things never took a
dangerous turn to the point anyone got admitted, all those rough
fights left quite a long–lasting grudge.
"When did you make up with him?"
"Well…"
"You said your family and his aren't on good terms."
"That's right."
I respond wearily. Our families are on bad terms and our
faculties are rivals. But he had my heart a long time ago. Can you
guys just stop hating each other so I can have more sweet times with
Pran?
"Aren't you fed up with the constant fights?"
"In conclusion…besides you getting along with Pran, you want
us to forget about how they messed with us?"
"Not really." Gon is the only one remaining silent in the group.
He knows the most, but not enough. "I just don't want to fight with
them anymore. I'd rather waste my time with something else."
"Oh, right, you got yourself a girlfriend. The first one ever since
you got in the uni, right?" That's correct. Poom's comment comes at
the right time. The other guys start to agree and drop the
investigation.
"Poom, are you jealous?"
"Jealous, my ass. I'm just trying to make sense of why Pat
wishes to make peace with the architecture guys. He usually tackled
Pran, but he became such a gentleman today. I thought you took the
wrong pill."
 "Well, I have sportsmanship. Poom, did you know that the
purpose of Sports Day is to establish harmony? We're from the same
university, after all."
"I'm gonna puke."
The way he turns his face down cracks me up. Some of them
don't look convinced, but they say no more. "Look, think about the
number of times you got hurt from the fights. How much did it all cost
to treat your wounds? And for what?"
"Those guys messed with us."
"We started first several times."
"Pat, what is this? It doesn't feel right."
I heave a long sigh. "Aren't you tired of it? I'm fucking fed up.
Aren't you, Gon?"
I ask my best friend. He hesitates before muttering, "I am."
"Right, Jor, if you weren't busy lashing out at those guys, you
would've become the commander by now," I mention the game he's
into recently. "And Poom, don't you want more time to study?"
"I never fought with you guys. Don't drag me in."
"But you're not fond of how we wasted time with all the fights,
aren't you? So what if we beat them? You don't have to go along with
me. We're all grownups. Just think about it. It's fucking stupid and
childish. Cool guys don't beat people just because of an unknown
reason the seniors use as the cause of the hostility. If you guys still
insist on fighting, I'm out. I quit."
If I can at least reduce the number of those who want to fight, it
might actually be over someday.
"This is too stressful. Let's drop it." The juniors appear to
understand what I mean, their hostile gazes turning friendlier. I have
a question, yes: How long are we going to keep this up? I don't want
to keep my relationship with Pran a secret. I hope these
motherfuckers stop harassing Pran at the least. Our relationship
didn't progress much back then. If I now have to fight with Pran even
as a joke, I don't want to do it anymore.
Instead of beating each other's asses, shouldn't we spend our
energy in bed?
 "Hey, guys, where are we going to celebrate?" Gon blurts out
to dispel this pressuring and confusing atmosphere, and Jor chimes
in right away.
"The regular bar. You gotta come, Pat. You turned us down too
many times."
"Okay, I'll go," I promise, scratching my chin. "I might bring my
lover along. See you at nine."
They whistle and tease me. Despite my decision, I'm still
hesitant since I haven't talked to Pran. If he opposes the idea, I'll just
share that I'm gay and in love with an architecture student we often
fought with. Well, I'll give it a go. My friends might hate me from now
on or whatever. It'll be amazing if I can make them quit messing with
Pran at the least. As for the other architecture dudes, if they still hold
grudges against me from all our past collisions, I have to accept it.
It's okay if I lose my backup. Even if Pran will never mention me or
reveal our relationship, I can live with that. He doesn't need to ruin
his social circle for me. Everything I'm doing is to keep him safe.
"Where are you going now, Pat?"
"Home," I answer with a smile and wave them goodbye. Jor
stresses the time again. I catch Gon's eyes and lift an eyebrow
before walking away.
"Are you crazy?"
An expected answer, yup. Pran stares daggers at me, chewing
his food.
"What? I just want to introduce you."
"I'm not going."
"Pran, it's all right if you plan to keep it a secret, but I don't want
to hide it from my friends." I press my tongue on the inside of my
cheek, eyes fixed on him. "Plus, Gon is already suspicious of us."
"It's your fault."
"It's the way I am. I'm not good at faking. You know that."
I look at Pran and hold his hands. Pran is a solemn guy. He
has no problem keeping secrets. But in all honesty, I'm not sure if I
can keep it hidden until the very end. I stroke the back of his fingers.
He tries to pull it back, but I won't let go. I'll beg him a bit more just in
case.
 "Pran."
"Don't act cute. Have you thought about the consequences of
your friends knowing about us?"
"I have."
"If your friends give you the cold shoulder or cut you off…"
"Because of something like this?" I tilt my head. If they cut me
off because I'm gay or in a relationship with a student from the rival
faculty, I don't think they're really my friends. "We're not primary
schoolers. We don't hate someone just because our friends do."
"That's the point. Have you no idea how significant friendship is
at our age? I don't want you to face the same situation as mine."
"Why? What happened? Did you have a fight with those guys?"
"No," Pran lies. Well, he doesn't have to tell me. I don't want to
pressure him to talk anyway.
"Fuck it. I'm okay if I only have you."
"Pat, it's not worth it. We're graduating soon. Just keep quiet
about this."
"We're graduating soon, so I want to spend time with you as
much as I can. The problem with our friends is trivial. Our families
also…"
"Right, I shouldn't have gotten involved with you. What a
hassle."
"I'll give you a chance to take back your words. Can you really
lie to your heart?" I lift my eyebrow. Pran closes his mouth abruptly
and turns his head away. "Let's solve this together, Pran. Step by
step."
"Pat, just drop it. Aren't you satisfied with the way things are
right now?" The room owner exhales. Pran despises trouble, never
wishing for any problems. Is our situation that bad? Well, it's not like
we need to rush in head–first to the awaiting problem.
"I am," I mutter with pleading eyes. I lean down over the table
and kiss Pran's hand. "I'm so satisfied with it that I hope I can enjoy it
to my heart's content. I want to hold your hands, look at your face,
and talk to you anywhere, not only in this room. Are we seriously
going to stay cooped up like this forever…? Pran."
"Cut it out."
 "Pran."
"Pat."
"Pran."
"All right!"
I love how he's so kind behind that tough fa็ade. His voice was
a bellow, but it was the answer I wanted to hear. My smile widens. I
go in for another kiss and get hit gently in the forehead. Pran
continues eating as if feeling nothing. If my eyes weren't remarkably
sharp, I wouldn't notice his red ears.
"You're cute."
"Shut up before your mouth bleeds too much you can't chew on
food."
You sharp–tongued softie. Whose boyfriend is this?
Pran and I have been the regulars of the bar near the university
since our freshmen year. Looking back, I discovered that he went to
the same university as we stumbled upon each other at this bar. We
were both dumbfounded. Before we could say a word, our seniors
clashed. I was at a loss of why we hung out at the same place when
we were on bad terms, and I found out later that it was a you–leave–
you–lose game. As a result, all hell broke loose at the bar so
constantly that the owner got resigned. He let us fight any way we
desired as long as we paid for the damaged stuff. On bad hair days,
the bar owner would smash a bottle of booze on the table to make a
weapon with broken shards, then he'd threaten to stab whoever
thought of brawling. The engineering and architecture students
would sit quietly and mind their own business until the closing time.
College students' physical fights are anything but brutal, more
like a child fight. The bar owner yells at us and we all get sheepish.
We have to flee outside to brawl, then we split and go home as we're
tired. There really is no victory.
"Are you scared?" I ask Pran once we've arrived. I've
nevercome here or had a normal conversation with him in public
before. However, he's now by my side. Pran shrugs, nonchalant.
"I'm not the one in trouble. You might get kicked out of the
group in a split second."
 "How mean," I laugh, catching the hidden worries in his eyes. I
grab his hand and pull him inside the bar. We're late, so it's no
surprise that the others are already here. Gon spots me first. His
eyes shift to the guy beside me down to our clasping hands. The
lively chat dies down. I smile and lead Pran to the two empty seats.
"What's up? What did you order?"
"What the hell does this mean, Pat?"
"Hmm? What? I told you guys I'd bring my lover. Beer?" I ask
Pran, dismissing my friends' confusion.
"Yeah."
"Okay. One beer, please. The small one. Don't drink too much,
or you won't be able to carry me back."
"I'll just leave you here."
"Whoa, you picked me up at the convenience store last time.
You're not a cruel guy."
"What a pain," he replies as my friends slam their glasses on
the table. Gon is the most composed one yet still looked displeased.
"Pat, this is not funny. Are you saying you're dating the guy
who punched us in the face?"
"Pran never punched any of you," I say evenly. It's the truth.
"And I never let you guys lay a finger on him."
"Pat!"
"You all deal with this. I'm hitting the restroom."
Pran gets up and walks off, and I nod in acknowledgment.
When I turn my head to the table, they are gawking at me. "You're all
making me blush with those stares."
"Pat, you betrayed us. Fuck, you let us fight each other to
death just to have it off with Pran behind our backs?"
"Hey, we haven't done it."
"Don't change the subject. You tricked us into brawling with
them. You took us for stupid dogs?"
"I never drag you guys into any fights," I oppose, though it
sounds selfish. "I'm sorry I never stopped you and that I've never
said Pran and I are friends."
"You're not just friends."
 "Yeah, that's why I decided to tell all of you," I sigh as Pran's
beer is served. I take a sip and place it back down on the table. "He
once saved Par, so we've kind of had this love–hate relationship.
And since our families are on bad terms, it's odd to call us friends.
But I know now. I actually realized it a while ago that I should be
serious with him before I lose my chance."
"So it means you guys have had feelings for each other for a
long time, right? Why the hell did you realize it now? Why didn't you
wait until one of us dies first?"
"Beat me." As if things like this are supposed to make sense. "I
want to be a better person."
"You've been into each other for a long time, but recently you
were afraid to be dumped. And so, you betrayed us to stick with his
ass?"
"I told you I don't know. If you're going to hate me, nothing I can
do about that. I just want to apologize. As for Pran, can you stop
harassing him? Just take it out on me if something bothers you. I'll
let you do whatever you want without fighting back."
"Pat, you fucker, are you out of your mind?"
Right, maybe I am. I got lashed out at by both my friends and
boyfriend, and I'm willing to take it all. Right then, there's an awful
racket coming from the back of the bar. I count the guys at the table.
Everyone is here except Pran. I spring up, dart to the source of the
sound, and come across these three guys. One of them locks Pran's
arms while the other raises his fist. Judging from the guy at a
disadvantage, Pran has obviously received quite a few blows.
"Hey, hey, you're being unfair."
"None of your fucking business."
"Release my friend."
"Your friend made a face at us first. We can't help it."
My eyes land on the university logo on the unfamiliar color
workshop shirt. It aggravates me because they're from a different
university. It's going to be tricky to deal with them.
"If he kneels before us, I'll consider whether to let him go or
not."
SPIT!
 Damn it, Pran, can you not act like a jerk right now? He spit at
the attacker. The asshole is about to punch Pran, but I'm faster,
snatching his hand instinctively and striking him across the face.
"Shit."
"Hey, what the fuck?"
Four more guys join in. Holy crap, six on two. I hop and kick the
closest one. Pran struggles out of the grip and tackles that guy back.
Stuff falls down and shatters on the floor, and the flower vase has
turned into a weapon. I got hit in the head from the back. The attack
sends me wobbly. I hear Pran scream my name.
"Argh!"
I'm slowly losing my consciousness. Amidst the chaos,
someone kicks me in the stomach with such force that I collapse.
Something smacks my cheek and my face jerks back. I can taste the
salty blood in my mouth, hearing Pran's voice from time to time. My
friends follow finally. I see Gon and meet Jor's eyes. I try to get up
but get hit back down since I'm already in a terrible state.
"Pat!"
Pran kicks the guy scuffling with me in the leg and shoves him
away. Lowering his guard, Pran is yanked from behind and punched
in the chin. I try to stand up to help him, but more and more people
are pouring in. The bar owner isn't here, and I don't know when he
will come. Our victory seems impossible. When I catch a glimpse of
a knife, I dash forward to cover Pran, ignoring the spreading metallic
scent of blood from my nape. I don't give a damn despite the pain in
my stomach or even the twinge across my jaw.
"You're quite bold in someone else's territory!"
The shout this time doesn't belong to my friends nor the
outsiders with a backup. It belongs to the architecture students that
cursed me out of the nurse's office in the afternoon. Pran calls
Waiyakorn in a weak moan before all hell breaks loose. We're equal
in numbers and strength until the other group flashes their knives
and knuckles. A gunshot resounds out of nowhere. I pull Pran in my
embrace, smelling smoke and hearing shrieks. The sound of steps
fades away. When I'm sure we're out of the woods, I slide down
Pran's body onto the cold cement floor.
 "Pat! Pat!"
"You…Are you okay?"
"I…I'm fine. It's Wai's gun."
I look at Wai putting the gun back into the holster at his back.
He paces here, some bruises on his face but not much.
"Pat, can you really take care of Pran?"
"Mind your own business. I thought you're not friends with Pran
anymore."
"Don't be cocky. If I weren't his friend and didn't follow him
here, you and Pran would've been dead."
"Are you worried about me?"
"Shit, you've got the nerves to smile." Wai looks pissed, as well
as Pran's other friends. Still, they walk up and wrap their arms
around Pran's neck. "I fucking hate Pat."
"Hey, the one who caused Pat trouble this time is your guy," Jor
growls, pulling me up on my feet, but he shows no hostile gestures
towards Waiyakorn. "Pat, there's blood on your head."
"Yeah, I know."
"Let's go to the hospital." Pran forces himself out of his friends'
arms and tugs me to him. I'm not in a state to fight with anyone. My
body hurts like hell. "Thanks, Wai. Thank you guys too."
"Never mind. Are you all leaving now?"
"We didn't come here to save Pat's ass only."
"We didn't want to save Pran from getting his ass crushed as
well."
What's with this argument? Go get a room and kiss and make
up for five minutes, will you? I'm getting moody. Before I grumble out
loud, Waiyakorn hands his car key to his friend.
"Pran, take this troublemaker to the hospital. We'll drink here."
"Wanna join our table?" Gon smirks. I have no idea who that's
for, but someone snickers as a response.
"The one who gets drunk first treats everyone."
"What a pain in the ass. Am I your friend?"
"Whoa, architecture students are a bunch of cowards."
"Wanna get your ass whooped? Look at yourself." Pran's
friend's lip curl. Well, my friends look like a wreck right now. "Prepare
your cash."
"Hey, wait, ain't no one going to accompany me to the
hospital?" I ask. My friends eye me and shrug.
"The wounds are far from your heart. Plus, we're still mad at
you, Pat," Jor replies, glancing at Pran. "I'll let you two flirt with each
other as much as you want. Call me if something happens."
Hold up. This is not what I expected. Are you just suddenly
getting along? I lean over and put my head on Pran's shoulder, my
vision turning dark by the second. My eyes sting from a drop of blood
trickling down from my eyebrow. Pran holds my waist and says
something to his friends, then he takes me out under the familiar dim
light of our regular bar.
"Will they fight?"
"I don't think so," Pran mutters, tightening his arm around me.
"Pat, don't sleep."
"Um." My eyes are half–closed along the way to the car. Pran
puts me in the front seat in the most comfortable posture and goes
around to settle in the driver's seat. He grabs my hand and rests it
on his lap. Pran is shaking from his hand to his voice, yet he doesn't
freak out. "You scared?"
"Yeah."
"It's all right. You're okay now."
The car takes off. I pull back the hand he's holding to pat his
head. Pran brushes it away, insisting on holding my hand instead of
being comforted in a silly way. Our fingers intertwine. It's cold, but my
heart feels warm.
"Does it hurt so much?" Pran queries, eyes reddening.
"It's better than seeing you hurt."
"You fucking idiot! You're a fool. Fucking stupid. Do not sleep,
okay?"
"I got it. Don't be afraid. I'll keep you company until you pull
yourself together. Nothing can hurt you."
"Something can." His sharp eyes stare ahead. I look at his side
profile, and my heart is going to burst by his short words. "Losing
you."
 | SCENE FIFTEEN |
Pran | talk

Pat's delirious state frightens me every passing second. I resist

the urge to stomp on the accelerator to take the guy beside me to
the hospital as fast as possible. However, my feet shake so hard that
I fear I might make the car topple over before he can get the
treatment. In the end, all I can do is holding the steering wheel and
getting a grip. I look forward and drive at the highest yet safe speed.
I squeeze Pat's hand so tightly that I can feel his pulse under his
skin. The throbbing rhythm between my fingers brings me some
relief.
At least he's not sleeping. At least he's here with me.
I pull over by the entrance as soon as we've arrived. I open the
car door and assist the male nurses rushing in to help Pat get on the
hospital bed. His eyes are nearly shut and the back of his shirt is full
of bloodstains. I move the car to the parking lot as the male nurse
suggests and sprint after Pat into the ER. The moment the door is
closed, I tear up, my heart clenching, sending a sharp pang all over
my chest. My hair stands on end as if I'm going to lose someone. I
shake away those foolish thoughts and settle on a chair. I stare at
my open palms, still feeling the warmth from our clasping hands. I
interlock my fingers to fill the now emptier gaps and count numbers
in my mind to soothe my nerves.
Because someone like me at this moment…can only wait.
It's past an hour since I've clutched my hands, shaking, in front
of the ER. When the doctor comes out, I jump to my feet so instantly
that the dizziness makes me sway. To sum up, Pat received ten
stitches and needs a CT scan. He's also required to be admitted for
observation due to possible internal injuries besides the external
ones. The nape is one of the most vital parts, and I know as much.
 And I know that he's in this state because of no one else…but
me.
"Um…"
I gasp and turn abruptly to the injured person on the hospital
bed, then I dart forward to him. Pat's eyes flutter open, making me
smile. I push the nurse call button, and the night–shift medical team
comes in to examine and talk with their patient. They sum up
everything for me and go over the additional examinations we talked
about before. After that, they leave.
I see the medical team off and return to the hospital bed.
"Pat."
"Pran…"
Hearing him call my name, I exhale in relief, smile, and reach
out to take his hand. "How are you feeling?"
"My head feels heavy. It hurts."
"You got quite many stitches. It's bound to hurt."
"I'm numb all over."
"Here, drink some water," I say, raising the head of the bed. I
pick up a glass of water, hold it out under his chin, and put the straw
to his mouth.
"What time is it…?"
"Five in the morning. You've slept for several hours."
"Why didn't you sleep?"
"How could I when you hadn't opened your eyes?"
Upon hearing those words, the familiar smirk plasters on Pat's
face. I let it slide this time and beam, glad that he can still smile at
me.
"When I opened my eyes, I almost tried saying, 'Who are
you?'"
I narrow my eyes at him wearily. Has he any idea how I've felt
for the past hours?
"But I was afraid you wouldn't play along and dump me."
"If you didn't speak, I would've dumped you."
"Cruel."
"A crazy guy like you deserved cruel treatment."
 Pat laughs heartily. He shifts a little and winces from the
headache.
"Did you tell Par?" His voice sounds hilarious. He's probably
imagining his sister crossing her arms with a hostile face.
"Not yet. She'd be worried."
"Good. Don't tell her since I just got a cut on my head. My skin
is thick like a bull. You used to say that, didn't you?"
I sigh and shake my head, not in the mood to take his joke.
"Not funny, Pat. Did you even think about the worse situations?
The doctor said you lost a lot of blood. What would we do if we didn't
arrive at the hospital in time? I don't want to think about it."
"Pran."
"I hate that you always see things like this as a joke. Can you
quit the habit of doing before thinking?"
"Pran…"
"At least you should learn to be afraid."
"I was afraid."
"…"
"I was afraid to lose you."
I press my lips together, frowning, eyes fixed on his earnest
gaze. I feel like crying. "Don't you think I was afraid too?"
"Don't make that face." Pat holds my hand. I don't know what
my face looks like, but I have an idea, judging from the concerned
expression of the guy with no manners. "I'm sorry for making you
scared."
"It was my fault."
"Don't say that." Pat tries to pull me close, but he's too weak to
make me move an inch. I lean down to him instead. "I want to go
home. Can I be discharged now?"
I shake my head rapidly. "No, you need to stay another day for
observation. You'll also get a CT scan, the doctor said."
"What scan? I won't do it." His voice is filled with panic, learning
the unfamiliar words.
"You have to, in case of internal injuries. You might have a
brain hemorrhage."
"Whoa, no way. I don't want to do it. I'm fine, Pran."
 "Can't you do it for my peace of mind?"
"…"
"Can you not make me worried ever again?"
"…"
"Pat."
"…"
"…What can I say now after you said all of that?"
My lip curls up, watching Pat drop his gaze and sulk like an
upset kid.
"Are you hungry?"
"Yes."
"I'll go down to buy…"
"I'm hungry for you. Come on here."
"Still in the mood to joke, huh? Someone like you wouldn't stop
being a pain even on the verge of death."
"I won't die easily. At least until you die first."
My lips are pressed tightly. I want to smile, but I don't want Pat
to be too proud.
"Just rest," I say and move the chair closer to the bed. Pat
takes my hand in his. "I'll be here."
"I won't let you go anywhere even if you want to."
I laugh and just sit there. I nod along when Pat looks at me with
his half–closed eyes. I tighten my hand clasped in his and stroke the
back of his hand with my thump.
I fall asleep soon after the injured guy is in his dreamland.
When the doctor and nurses march into our room, I get up and wake
the sleepy, cranky Pat to get a CT scan. Everything goes in regular
steps with me staying close as Pat told me to. Who would've thought
he'd be scared of needles? When the doctor injects contrast media
into his vein, his expression turns dark as if the sky is about to fall.
The CT scan takes only thirty minutes, but Pat must feel like it lasts
for a whole day.
Pat looks drain after the scan, unable to walk on his feet. We
have to take him back to the patient room by a wheelchair. As the
door is flung open, he grumbles that he feels feverish and goes
straight to the bathroom to throw up nonstop. Pat seems so in pain
that it worries me. The nurse tells me this is a common complication
of the contrast media injection, and he'll be better in an hour. By the
time the result is delivered, the guy with nothing left in his stomach is
in a deep sleep.
The scan result is satisfactory. I have a long sigh after the
doctor has confirmed that there's nothing wrong shown up on the X–
ray film. Pat can go home after a good rest. Seeing how worn–out he
is, we'll probably leave in the evening.
Knock, knock, knock, knock.
Four knocks on the door. Very unusual. Why knocking so many
times? When I open the door, it's the guy who gave me a call around
an hour ago.
"Still not dead, huh?"
My best friend's unpleasant greeting makes my lip curl up. My
eyes fall on the takeaway food he bought and fail to stifle my smile.
"What made you decide to visit?"
"I'm not here to visit. I'm here to get my car," Wai quickly
corrects and slams the food into my hands. "I was buying food on
the way home, but I bought too much. Here's some for you."
"Oh, so it's for me," I drag my voice and peer into the plastic
bag. "And you bought two extra boxes."
"Don't pull such a face at me, Pran. I'm still mad you hid a
secret from me."
"But you don't look like an angry person."
"Who says? I'm fucking irritated. Those engineering bunch
drank booze like it was water."
"You lost?"
"Just a little. We'll see next time."
I smile a little, feeling something's changing. "What? Did you all
even plan another round?"
Wai shrugs, not answering. Aside from being sullen, he's so
prideful.
"How is he, by the way?"
"He's all right. Just got a scan. Nothing to worry about."
"I see. He's sleeping?"
"Yeah, must be tired."
 "And…when's he discharged?"
"In the evening, I guess. I gotta wait until he wakes up."
"Uh–huh, I'll be off, then. I just stopped by to see you."
"Thanks a lot."
"I helped you, not him."
"Yeah, thank you for that."
"Um, bye."
"Hey, won't you take your car key?" I stop Wai and head to the
table to get it, but he shushes me.
"Use the car to take that dead jerk home. I'll go and get it at
your place."
"You said you came here for the car."
"I'm leaving. I'm in a rush."
I grin as Wai changes the subject not so smoothly. I nod and
watch him walk to the door. Before he shuts the door, he says
something that makes me laugh lowly.
"Oh…and don't worry about the guys. None of us can bring
ourselves to be mad at you."
"Praaaan."
"Yes?"
"My head hurts."
"How? You took a medicine." I turn my head from my work to
the person resting on the couch. He's been calling my name over
and over ever since we came back from the hospital.
"But it hurts. It must be bruised. Massage my head, please."
"I just did for half an hour. Let me do my work."
"Can I lie on your lap on the floor?"
"Why do you want to lie down here? It's uncomfortable. Rest
there and behave. Don't move too much, or the sutures will break."
"Praaaan."
"What now?"
"Thirsty."
"The bottle is right there."
"I can't reach it."
"Don't you have legs?"
"I'm hurt…"
 I snort and put down the pencil, relenting, and look at the
crybaby. Pat's pretentious pleading eyes are everything but pitiful.
Still, I get up and sit on the edge of the same couch. I pick up a
bottle of water, open the lid, and hold it out to him, but the lunatic
punk shakes his head, refusing. He parts his lips and waits for me to
put the straw to his mouth, like I did at the hospital. I fight the urge to
scold him since he obediently got a CT scan.
"How can my lap be softer than a pillow?"
"It's much more comfortable."
I shake my head as Pat smiles so hard because he's
successfully possessed my lap. He hugs my waist, not letting me get
my work done. I stroke his head and massage his temples gently. My
eyes land on the slightly trimmed hair by his nape.
"Why don't you cut your hair?"
"Why? I won't."
"Aren't you annoyed? I don't like it. It's always been bugging
me."
"I like long hair. It's cool."
"It's dirty. You rarely wash your hair."
"I usually tie it up. Super artistic."
"I don't think you know what 'artistic' means. It doesn't mean
being nasty, you know."
"I believe it means cool."
"But I want you to cut your hair."
"What if girls are smitten with me since I look too handsome
after a haircut? You'd be exhausted from getting jealous."
"Not only you're stupid, but you're also narcissistic."
"You mean good–looking and charming."
I roll my eyes and stop circling my thump between Pat's
eyebrows. "Go to bed. It's late. You've not healed, so you need to
rest."
"Let's go to bed together."
"I have to work."
"I can't sleep without you by my side."
"I'll bring Shabby to you."
"Fragrant can't replace you."
 I sigh. "Did you go bonkers after a hit in the head?"
"I'm hurt, Pran…"
"Are you screwy?"
"I'm not in my best condition, so I want you to be near me."
Hearing his fake, small voice, I purse my lips. Did someone tell
him this method is a good idea? Who taught him this false
impression?
"Don't be silly. Get up and go to bed. I gotta work now. What if I
can't graduate?"
"I'll help you tomorrow. Can't you sleep next to me tonight? I
even got that fucking scan against my will. Didn't you know it was
hell? I never felt like dying to that extent. It was like my soul was
being sucked out of my body."
"It was all for your own good."
"I don't care. I did it all for you."
"You've gotten more demanding."
"I just want you to spoil me."
I stare at the guy looking up at me from my lap with stubborn
eyes, and go still. Pat knows he's being unreasonable and knows
damn well how pressed for time I am. I don't have time for leisure. I
stayed up several nights even with all those basketball practices
because my project is due soon. Unfortunately, with this selfish idiot
in the same room, my thousand reasons will positively be brushed
off.
I'll continue my work after he's fallen asleep.
With that thought, I nod and give him a resigned smile.
"Get up, then."
"For real?"
"Will you go to bed or not? I'll work if you don't."
"I'm getting up. Ugh!"
"Pat!" I shout when the idiot suddenly jumps up without a care
about his wounds and condition. "Are you crazy, springing up like
that?"
"Argh, it hurts, Pran."
"You fool!" I snarl and move closer to him, my brows furrowed.
"Let me see. Did the sutures split?"
 I push his shoulder to turn him around. Seeing no blood
seeping through the gauze, I'm relieved. I pat his back for him to turn
around. His smile makes me glower.
"What's that smile for?"
"My lover's worried about me. How can I not smile?"
"Still being cheeky? I'll smack your wounds and tear them
apart."
"You won't do that to me."
"Wanna try?"
"You love me too much."
"…"
"You're blushing, aren't you?"
"Shut up."
"You always frown when you're blushing. Don't think I wouldn't
notice. Every time you glared at me in the past, was it all because I
made you blush?"
"I see you can chat very well. Go to bed alone. I'm gonna
work!"
"Hey, hey, hey, I'm just kidding," Pat mutters and grabs my
hand. "Let's go to bed. I'm sleepy."
I narrow my eyes at the jerk. Pat puts on a guilty face and nods
repeatedly to beg me to sleep together. I sigh heavily for the
thousandth time and start tidying up roughly, then I turn off the light
and take the three–year–old injured guy to the bedroom. I planned to
sneak out to work once he's slept, but the cool air from the AC, a
warm embrace, and a thick, fluffy blanket make my eyelids feel
heavy. I lost sleep all day and night to keep watch on Pat and got so
tired out from anxiety. As a result, pulling out from the guy's hug is
deemed impossible.
 | SCENE SIXTEEN |
Pat | talk

"Finally showed up, huh?"

Gon greets after I got off a bike taxi in front of the faculty
building. The guys have gathered on the ground floor, waiting for the
next class. Their morning class is the one transferred to this
semester. Since they have nowhere to go after the class, they
usually hang out here with an old bingo game everyone plays during
recess from the first year to the fourth year.
"I got hit in the head and admitted, and no one came to visit
me. I was at the hospital for a day."
"Sorry. We were caught up in the drinking battle with the
architecture dudes."
"Is booze more important than me?"
"Look at you being all sullen. We let you spend quality time with
your wifey."
"He's not my wifey." I put my backpack on the table and pick up
somebody's pickled mango to eat without asking. "Not yet."
"Whoa, that's so unlike you, the king of bull skin. How could
your head crack?"
"A vase, duh. Have you never got struck by a vase and the
broken bits stuck in your head? Do you wanna try? I'll gladly show
you."
"No, thanks. I know now that it hurts. You were standing up in a
daze for quite some time. We thought you just acted weak in front of
Pran."
"What fucking great friends you are. What about the gun?"
"You mean Wai's gun? It's just a small pistol for personal
protection. He shot the floor and had to pay for the shattered tiles.
Lucky for him, no one called the cops." Jor makes a tired face and
asks, "What did Par say about the wounds?"
"She has no idea," I whisper. I won't show my face at our house
or apartment for a while. Well, until I've completely healed. "If she
knew, I'd be dead meat. Dead meat!"
"Didn't she notice? Or didn't you come home at all?"
"Nah, for quite some time now."
They all whoop and holler. I know what these scumbags are
thinking about. Because I'm thinking about it too. But damn, I didn't
even get a kiss. All I can do so far is cuddle.
"So you're not knackered because of the injury, Mister Pat?
Must've gotten it on all night, huh?"
"As if." The more they tease me, the more frustrated I feel. I
respond in a mumble. "I can't even kiss. How can I get it on with
him?"
"Fuuuuck, you must be kidding."
"What the hell?"
"You've lived with him and never stepped up your game. Pran
doesn't want to do it?"
"We respect each other."
"Respect, my ass. You're both men."
"Men needs respect too." I clear my throat. The thing is, I have
to be extra careful since Pran is a man. What if he beats my ass to a
pulp? "We take it slow."
Poom scoffs. A nerd like him has the nerves to laugh at me?
"Good luck."
You fucking pain in the ass. Piss off!
"Pran!"
In the evening, I've waited for him at his faculty. He said he'd
discuss his project with his professor after classes. Many people
walked by and looked at me in bewilderment. Most architecture
students know me, but only the group that night learned our
relationship. Pran just descended the stairs and is now pacing
towards me as I wave my hand.
"Why are you here?"
"To pick you up."
 "Why didn't you call?"
"It's a surprise." I put my chin in my hand and smile. Pran has
been occupied with his project recently that he barely had time to
rest. I pulled loads of tricks to get him to bed like a child, but it still
wasn't enough. The dark circles under his eyes are visible. He looks
awfully run–down, but that's all right. He's still cute.
"Do you know that everyone in my faculty is talking about us?"
"Really?" Oh, so they looked at me out of curiosity, not hate as
I thought. "We're famous now. Let's sell some facial cream."
"Facial cream, my ass."
"My ass doesn't produce facial cream, but I'll be sure to make
an attempt."
"Your head must've been healed for you to be this annoying.
Do you want to have your ass kicked?"
"Bring it on." I rub my hand and grin. "I'll return your kick with a
kiss. Come on, Pat is ready, Pran."
"Stupid."
Seeing his irritated expression, I laugh. I stand up and help him
carry his backpack. What's is inside it? Fucking heavy. "What did you
bring to class?"
"Not just a pen, like you. Should we find something to eat first
or go straight back home?"
"I want to watch a movie."
"I'm busy."
"You're too hard on yourself, Pran. Take a break, will you? Let's
go and watch a movie."
"Pat, I have work to submit."
"I'll help you with the cutting."
"You're gonna delay everything!"
"I'll wash my hands first this time to keep your model clean. I'll
put my heart into it. Please…Let's watch a movie. I promise I won't
bother you tonight."
Pran considers the offer and nods at last. I hold his hand and
he yanks it off right away. "Shit! Don't be handsy outside."
"It's normal for lovers to hold hands." Before Pran can say
anything, I narrow my eyes. "Are you cheating on me?"
 "When did I do that? I can't even handle you. I just don't want
to be a target of gossip. Understand?"
"I do." I don't want to understand, though. Pran is pretty famous
here. It'll ruin his popularity. "But I can be handsy back in our room,
right?"
"You moron!"
Pran chooses a typical action movie. I often visited the theatre
with Gon and the guys but never once with Pran. We usually
watched the movie separately and shared our opinions afterward.
Therefore, we can enjoy a sequel together. Pran appears more
relaxed now. We have dinner at a Japanese restaurant with a fifty
percent discount. After that, we stroll around in the mall for a while
the way we never did and never thought we'd be able to do it.
"Will you finish your project soon?" Pran asks while we're
waiting in line for the famous soft ice cream puff. Eyes fixed on the
menu, I reply.
"Only the paper left."
"Why so fast? I've never seen you do anything."
"It's just a program writing." Unlike me, Pran has to conduct a
study and build a model. "There's no faculty as burdening as yours,
Pran."
"Right. Damn, did I choose the right path?"
"Would you change to something else if you could? I don't think
you would. What should we have? Any idea?"
"Don't want it."
"Come on, eat it with me. Don't you love ice cream?"
"I'm stuffed."
"Can I have one cone of chocolate flavor, please?" I tell the
heart–eyed worker and pay for the ice cream. Pran follows me to the
waiting line.
"Here you go." Pran said he didn't want it, but now that I hand it
over, he doesn't refuse. "Should we go home now so you can
resume your work?"
Pran nods, savoring the ice cream. I bend down and lick the
other side, making his eyes go wide. Pran pushes my chest and
walks away, frowning.
 You're blushing over something like this. I just wanted to have a
taste.
On the way home, I keep this one secret from Pran. Around a
kilometer away from the mall, I glance at his cheek stained with ice
cream. It's small, not conspicuous or ugly. It's actually super cute.
I love it when Pran acts like a kid, the way he cares about
nothing when he's enjoying what he likes. His relaxed expression
puts a smile on my face. Not only when he's having ice cream, but
also when he's working. Every time Pran works on his projects, his
passion, he's totally absorbed. It's hard to draw his attention to me.
With the current last project before the final exams, he's more
serious than ever. But his determination can be excessive. It worries
me when I wake up in the middle of the night to find him still awake.
"What time are you going to bed tonight?"
"When I'm sleepy."
"How can that be?" I argue. Just check out what he stored in
the fridge. "Can you not drink a canned coffee?"
"Energy drinks."
"Pran, you work too hard without taking care of yourself."
"It's almost finished. After this project, I'll sleep for two days
straight."
"Isn't that practicing dead?" I ask. I won't let that happen. Do
you think I'm going to let Pran knocked out for two days? The
loneliness will kill me. "I want to help."
"If you don't bother me, I'll be fucking grateful."
"You're exaggerating. Who am I? I'm Mr. Food Support. You
work so hard and skip resting. Back when I wasn't with you, how
could you survive to the last year?"
"Wai brought me food."
"That motherfucker has too much free time," I grunt. Doesn't he
care too much for his friend? What if he has an ulterior motive? Pran
is na๏ve. He'd be easily deceived by a wicked guy like Waiyakorn.
"We study together, so he knows what it's like with all the
projects. Wai usually works at the studio with his friends, but I prefer
working alone in my room. It's normal that he's worried about me."
"What a saint."
 "He sure is. Otherwise, he wouldn't have lent his car when you
got hit in the head back then."
Now he's giving his friend credit. How vicious. I surrender,
ending this bickering. It's our private time. Why do we talk about
someone else?
"The elevator's here. Look at you sulking. I don't care, you
know."
That's Pran for you. I sigh, wrap my arm around his neck, and
kiss his head affectionately. The guy getting attacked with the
headlock glares and slaps my forehead to be let free.
"How brutal. I'm your boyfriend."
"You're an evil spirit."
"What a sharp tongue you have."
Even though I lost in this round, the smile still stays on my face
as I can protect that little secret. Pran's cheek is still smeared with
ice cream. When we enter the room, I pull his elbow and lift up my
phone.
"What?"
"Let's take a selfie."
"What the hell?"
"Come on," I plead, chuckling. Pran tsks but still relents. I
switch to the front camera, and Pran bares his teeth.
"Shit, a stain on my cheek. Why didn't you tell me?"
"It's cute. Haha." He punches me and gets a napkin. I take it
from his hand, force him to sit down on the bed, and hop up next to
him. "I'll wipe it off."
"Piss off. Damn it, it stuck on since we were at the mall."
"It's cute, my little Pran."
"Is it funny?"
"No, I'll shut up. Now beg me to clean your cheek."
"Will you do it or not? If not, pass me the napkin. You're too
much to handle."
"Right, I have 'a lot' for you to handle." He punches me again in
the shoulder, not that hard, but enough to make me lose balance.
"So violent. Turn this way."
"You're slow. I have to work."
 "It's not fun being too fast."
"Pat."
"I'll shut up for real this time." I raise my hands in surrender and
wipe the sticky stain off his cheek with the napkin. Pran keeps his
eyes open, but then he lowers his gaze, away from my close stare.
The shadow of his thick, fair eyelashes falls on his cheeks, inviting
my eyes to trail down to his flushed skin. My hand freezes in place. I
know he has an annoying face. It could be the shape of his nose or
his eyes. Both mixed together make his face pretty provoking. I just
realized that besides his bugging face, now that my eyes are glued
to his curved lips, the rich color can arouse my desire for a kiss.
In the deep silence, I lean in unconsciously. It's probably the
work of gravity that pulls us closer. Eyes sticking to those lips, I tilt
my head a little by instinct until I feel the moist, rough, yet somehow
soft touch. The coldness is still there, and when I part his lips, I taste
the chocolate ice cream kiss.
Pran closes his eyes, letting me suck on his lips alone for a
while before returning the same action.
I cup his cheek with my hand that froze before, slipping my four
fingers in his natural dark hair at the back, my thumb circling his
cheek. My heart is racing. I tilt my head more to deepen the kiss and
insert my tongue inside to play with his. The gentle kiss grows more
intense. The moment I rush in for more, Pran's phone rings.
Fuck!
Pran pulls back slowly, avoiding my eyes. He frowns and gets
up to answer the call, leaving me disheartened on the bed alone as if
nothing happened.
"What's up, Wai? Yeah, I just got back. I'm going to resume the
project. Right, I'm with Pat. Don't come, or he'll kick up a fuss."
Fuck you, Waiyakorn. This motherfucker starts to get on my
nerves for fucking real. The last time I tried to kiss Pran, he showed
up. Now he interrupted our kiss despite not being here. A saint, my
butt. He's a fucking devil.
"Yeah, I've eaten. Hanging up now."
Pran ends the call but still doesn't turn around. I approach him
and give him a hug from the back. I bury my nose in the back of his
ear, inhale his scent, and kiss the length of his neck.
"Pat, enough."
"Why?"
"Gotta work."
Work again. If I could turn back time, I wouldn't let Pran choose
Architecture. Everything feels like a flash in the pan today. Should I
ask some deity to help me get it on with Pran?
"What upsets you?" Pran turns his head with the question,
smiling triumphantly. I save my breath and jump onto the bed. I turn
my back at him, though I know he wouldn't care. "Take a shower
before going to bed."
"Leave me alone."
"Go on and sulk. I'll come to you after I'm done with the
project."
I spin and see Pran carrying his model out of the shelves as he
said. I exhale aloud and eventually climb down to lie on his lap.
All right, just a kiss for today.
Goddamnit!
 | SCENE SEVENTEEN |
Pran | talk

For a whole week, that stupid plush lover wouldn't quit bugging
me, asking and crying for this and that all the time. Whenever my
hand touched the mouse, he'd call my name like crazy that I couldn't
concentrate. I had to turn my attention to tend to the guy claiming his
head and body ached. He kept groaning that he might have a fever.
My project progressed a bit faster than a snail crawling.
Nevertheless, at this moment, even if Pat whines and rolls on
the floor, I won't have the time to even look.
The boxes on my calendar are full. My eyes run over them to
the box with a thick red frame, which means the final submission. I
can only heave a sigh.
Twelve days from now!
I don't remember the last time I took a shower. I'm a clean freak
losing to the endless pile of work. After all the assessments and the
planning process, I needed to cut short and work on what I had on
the laptop. The model is finished. I only have a drawing and a paper
left. Oh…and a presentation.
With all these tasks, let alone glimpsing Pat, I only take a leak
when I can't really hold it. Fuck my life.
Rrrrrrrr
I remove my eyes from the laptop screen and peer at the
ringing phone displaying Wai's name. I pick up, turn on the speaker
rapidly, and switch my gaze back to the screen.
"What's up?"
[Are you going to bed?]
"No, I have to divide every section by tonight, or else I won't be
able to finish the specification."
 [Okay. I'm reaching my limit. I had three cans of coffee. Shit,
my heart's shaking.]
"Press a cold, wet cloth on your neck."
[Right, did Pat come back?]
"No, in a while, I guess."
[Can I stop by? I'll bring my laptop. I'm losing my shit.]
"Sure."
[All right, see you in a bit.]
Knock, knock.
"Hey."
I greet the guy I talked to over the phone moments ago. He
carries his work and equipment inside with dark circles under his
eyes, looking bone–tired.
"Hey. Now that I see your face, I feel so much refreshed."
"What the hell?"
"My dark circles in the mirror make me sad. Now I feel better
because yours look worse."
"Moron."
"Just kidding."
"Come in. I set the table for you. Put your laptop and other stuff
on it. The power strip is on the side. Use it."
Not wasting a second, we both settle before our laptops,
pressed for time. The silence is filled with the constant sound of the
clicking mouses. The music is on, working as white noise. We pour
our concentration to the program on the screens and discuss some
parts from time to time.
"Hey."
"What?" I lift my eyebrow, not turning my head.
"Is the height of your counter bar a meter and five or a meter
and ten?"
"A meter and five."
"What about the edge?"
"Ten."
"Can it be five?"
"It actually depends on the design. But I'd say ten, to be safe."
 We talk and work without eye contact, only asking mattering
questions and saving time as much as possible. We're not sure how
fast or slow time has passed. But before we know it, we hear Pat's
voice before he even steps in and before the door is fully opened.
"Praaaan."
I press my lips together, eyes flicking to the door. Wai bursts
out laughing.
"Whoa! Why the hell are you here?" Pat's eyes widen now that
he's inside. He points at the guy beside me in shock. "What the fuck
are you laughing for?"
"Can't help it. Who would've thought the engineering gang
leader would call his lover in such a sweet tone? Shit, it's haunting."
Wai won't stop laughing. I ignore both of them and focus on the
screen.
"Shut up. Why are you here, by the way? And why the fuck did
you bring all this stuff? Don't you have a place to sleep?"
"This is Pran's room, and I'm his friend. It's perfectly fine for us
to work together."
"It's no longer fine. Get the fuck out of here. The lovers are
going to have some lovey–dovey time."
"Go on with your delusion. I'm too busy to fight with you."
I try to show no interest and pretend not to hear their bickering,
paying attention to my work. Seconds later, the damn punk stomps
towards me and bawls.
"Pran, why did you let him in?"
"Wai came here to work. Quit whining."
"I'm not whining. I don't like him!"
"Pat, I'm thirsty."
"You're changing the subject!"
"My throat feels parched…"
I turn my head to hold Pat's gaze. The grumbling guy stops
complaining. Still upset, he gets a bottle of water in the fridge, opens
the lid, and puts the bottle close to my mouth.
"Hey, I can drink it myself."
"Just work. I'm feeding you."
 "I'm leaving. It's getting dark. I'm not exactly enjoying the sight
right now," Wai says, scoffing. I pull back from the bottle and wipe
the corner of my mouth shyly.
"Hurry and leave." The other guy doesn't hold back at all.
"Yeah, I'm leaving for sure. Cling to Pran as much as you want.
Damn, you're acting like an abandoned puppy."
"Wai, you trash!"
"Enough. Stop fighting. Get home safe, Wai. See you."
"See you. Hang in there. I'll stop by again."
I wave Wai goodbye, not seeing him off. Before he exits my
room, he teases Pat again, making Pat shout out loud for the last
time.
"Can you not get at each other's throats every time?" I mumble,
my fingers clicking the mouse and dancing on the keyboard.
"He started it. You saw it."
"Yeah, I know. Go take a shower."
"You haven't. I won't."
"I can't. I'm reaching the due date soon. Plus, I'm in an air–
conditioned room all day, not anywhere outside." I narrow my eyes at
Pat. "But you were out there rolling in mud."
"I'm not a dog, Pran. I'm your boyfriend."
"Hold up," I cry and grab one of his shoulders as he tries to rest
on my lap. My other hand is still tying. "If you want to lie on my lap,
take a shower first."
"Come on, I just got back and feel exhausted. Can't I rest for a
bit?"
"Just take a shower."
"You haven't taken a good look at my face since I was home,
Pran."
"I'm in a rush, Pat. Please don't whine too much for the time
being. Let me submit my project and finish the presentation first."
Pat groans and slams his feet for a while before finally going
into the bathroom. While he's showering, I work on the project as
much as I can, knowing I'll be distracted like crazy when he's back.
"I'm not going home anytime soon, Par. You can go without me.
Tell Mom I'm busy these days. Yeah, right. Okay. Get home safe.
Call me later. All right, bye."
My eyes are on the screen, ears listening to the conversation,
hands typing. When Pat hangs up, I throw him a question.
"Why don't you go home? You stayed here last week. You
should go and see your parents."
"You're not going. How can I?" Pat grins. He falls on my lap,
presses his face in my belly, and takes a deep breath.
"Shit, it tickles."
"You smell nice."
"Well, I just took a shower." After four days. I'm so disgusted
with myself, thinking about it. How could I go that far? This big pile of
work is to blame.
"You always smell nice."
"I'm telling you to go home. Why are you lying here?" I press
my lips together, changing the topic.
"I want to be here to help you. Even when I'm here, you keep
working without filling your stomach or taking a good rest. Who's
going to feed you if I'm not present?"
"You didn't sleep to keep me company as well. You look like a
panda."
"And you look like a black hole."
"It's my work, my responsibility. Not yours."
"The wifey's work is the husband's work."
"Pat."
"Whoa, whoa, what a glare." Still joking.
"Anyhow."
"Hmm?"
"How do you know I am the wife?" My lip curls up.
"Well, well, do you wanna prove it, little Pran?"
"You're gonna get your head cracked again if you don't stop
joking."
I pick up a scale ruler and pretend to aim at his head. Pat also
pretends to be frightened.
"I won't joke around anymore."
I chuckle and continue working, letting him play on his phone
on my lap. Even though I'm in a hurry, sleep–deprived, skipped
meals, and tired, having this big puppy by my side…
It's pretty nice.
"Fuuuuck, it's finally done!!"
"Let's celebrate. We gotta celebrate!"
"Where should we go tonight?"
"The regular bar? I crave booze so fucking much."
I smile at my friends widely. We're in high spirits now that we've
done the presentations and handed in the papers. We're shouting a
lot that it's impossible to tell who is talking to who.
Now that I've survived the fiendish period, I wish to release my
soul from my body to rest somewhere out of the earth. No more
staying up all day with my eyes glued to the laptop screen for more
than forty–eight hours. I'm going to sleep like a log, stuff my face with
good food, and spend all my money on booze.
"The regular bar at seven–thirty, then. Now, let's split up to take
a shower and have a sweet dream to replenish our energy."
With that conclusion, I drag my heavy body, lacking sleep for
two days, back to my apartment with Wai. We say goodbye at the
entrance and split.
I unlock the door to find Pat slumber on the couch. I smirk as I
step closer to him. He's completely knocked out because he stayed
up to be with me and slept at dawn almost every day in the past
week. Pat collected my plan at the printing shop, got my pictures at
the film shop, and bound my paper with a golden cover. He's been
considerably helpful. Unable to assist me with the content of my
work, Pat made up by doing minor tasks with no hesitation.
Consequently, the sleep–deprived engineering gang leader fell into a
deep sleep on my presentation day.
I squat to stare at his face. I run my eyes from his brow to his
dark circles, the same as mine. Look at his long hair. Isn't he
annoyed? I told him to cut it numerous times. It takes too much time
to dry after washing. Worse still, he's too lazy to blow his hair or dry it
properly. He could catch a cold from that.
"Um…"
The sleeping guy moans and shifts his body when I brush his
bangs off his forehead.
 "Did I wake you?"
"You're back?" Pat asks softly. He gets up and rubs his eyes
drowsily.
"I'm back. Go sleep on the bed. Your neck will ache."
"Let's go to bed together."
"I'll be there after a shower."
"Okay…" He must be really sleepy to be this obedient, and it's
so adorable that I smile a little. I touch his cheek. Pat lifts his
eyebrow and meets my eyes. "What?"
"Thank you."
"Thank you?"
"For helping me out."
Pat blinks repeatedly, then he grins and pulls me to sit between
his legs. I try to resist and give up. "I only have you. Who else would
I help out?"
"What a sweet talker. Pat…Hmm!" His lips touch my neck,
startling me. I call his name to make him stop, but he doesn't care.
"Don't."
"I've been a good boy for days. Don't I deserve a reward?"
"…"
Pat wraps his arms around my waist from the back. His hands
trail down to my thighs as his pointed nose nuzzles my neck. I get
goosebumps and swallow hard, feeling the electricity when Pat
nibbles my ear.
"Pat…"
"Don't stop me. I want to touch you."
"Damn, I'm beat."
"No, you're not. You're obviously hard."
I halt, my face heating up because it's true. I frown and bark a
reply. "It's just a sleepy boner."
"Hmm, you must be tired. So am I." Pat grabs my hand and
puts it on his crotch. The thick and firm feeling under my palm makes
me flinch and try to move away, yet Pat follows and pulls me back
into his embrace. He uses the chance when I'm flustered to seal our
lips and thrusts his tongue inside my mouth vigorously. He caresses
my hips and tugs my pants down. My eyes widen and my face
flushes red, but Pat's fervent kiss distracts me.
Pat slips his hand into my underwear. I shiver as my sensitive
part is held and stroked gently. It slowly arouses me. I've been so
busy that I didn't take care of myself. Now that I'm being fondled like
this, it's irresistible.
"Pran…"
And with his raspy whisper close to my ear.
"Hmm, Pat…I…"
"It's all right. Relax. Don't tense up."
"Fuck, don't stroke it like that."
"Your cheeks are deep red." Pat bites my cheek in a mouthful,
so I hit his shoulder.
"What the hell are you doing? Ah!"
"Touch me too."
"No…"
"Pran."
I press my lips tightly, ignoring the soft whisper over my mouth.
I shut my eyes to escape from those pleading eyes, but it only
sharpens my senses. I grit my teeth for a while and finally yield. I
reach out to grasp his thing and move my hand up and down. Pat's
moan and mine echo in my ears embarrassingly.
I'm not sure if it is fatigue that makes my feeling intensify. Every
movement on my skin fills me with extreme discomfort. I want to
release it.
Our faces lean to one another after our eyes meet. Our lips
part, and we taste the heat on each other's tongues. We forget about
everything and focus on the hot temperature from both our hands,
exchanging our breath. In the end, I fall into his firm embrace. We
hold each other in our arms, panting, mumbling each other's names
after the hotness in our bodies is let free in our hands.
 | SCENE EIGHTEEN |
Pat | talk

Nothing is better than taking another step with your lover.

Damn…This is heaven. Look at my mouth closely. HEAV–EN.
I lie on my side and watch Pran, who has been sound asleep
for a whole day. It seems like he's not going to wake up anytime
soon. I put my hand over his nose occasionally to make sure he's
just sleeping, not dead. Ever since we knew each other, we've never
been this close. Our daily routines are nothing but strange. When we
work, we lose sleep. When we sleep, we do it as if we will never
have another chance.
The growling sound reminds me that my stomach has been
empty since yesterday evening. The exhaustion from staying up with
Pran every past night still lingers, but not as strong as my hunger. I
tighten my arms around him. We actually slept on the opposite sides
of the bed last night. After he let me touch him the way no one ever
did, he got so embarrased that his face turned so red. He forbade
me to cross over the boundary in the form of a bolster for a night.
Though, he hadn't appeared especially prude moments ago.
It only meant that he was too shy to face me. Well, I was also
shy, you know, but I liked it.
I kiss the sleeping guy gently on the shoulder. He's wearing an
oversized basketball shirt, revealing his milky shoulder. I want to bite
it so bad, but my stomach growls for the third time. I have no choice
but to find something to eat before the sound interrupts the person
beside me. Pran has been wearied for multiple days, so I want him
to rest. Today, I promise I'll be a good boy by not making the room
messy. I will wash the plate and glass I use thoroughly. I will take a
proper shower and buy some food for him in the afternoon or
evening once his energy is recharged.
 "Pat, Mom wouldn't stop complaining."
I stopped by my room at noon to find my sister packing her bag
with the clothes from her closet, and she said to me in a tired voice. I
know why Mom complained. Well, of course, I didn't come home for
a whole month. I don't even remember the last time I went back to
my house. Pran stayed here, so I stayed. Besides, every time we
both decided to go home, we couldn't spend time together anyway.
But going home didn't sound so tiresome since I could see him in his
room from my window. I could bear my parents cursing particular
neighbors.
I still don't quite understand. Aside running from the same kind
of business that grew in the same period and taking turns getting on
the best company rankings every year, what made them despise
each other to this extent? Asking the adults is no use. Mom only said
that a lot of things happened before Par and I were born. As a result,
even if Pran, my sister, and I were on good terms, we had to keep
our distance from one another.
"I'm going home today, and you should, too. Mom knows
you've done many exams."
"They were just quizzes. Plus, my project is still ongoing."
"Talk to Mom yourself."
"Par, please help me. Pran just submitted his project. I think he
needs a rest."
"Why bringing him up?"
"How can I leave him here? He's sleeping like a corpse. If he
gets sick…"
"Pat, this is not his first year being alone in the apartment. And
he's been through this situation every semester. Why are you
worried now?"
The situation has changed. Back then, we were just friends,
and I never knew Pran's work would be so hardcore. Now that I've
witnessed it, I can't let him be alone.
"Par."
"Don't use that sweet tone with me. I've covered for you for
several weeks. Just stay over for a night at home and come back
here. I have two exams left. Don't make Mom rush here to drag you
home. It'll be hell if she sees Pran."
There are only a few reasons that can make me back down.
One of them is to protect Pran from my mother.
"Just go."
In the late afternoon, I bought fried pork with garlic from a food
stall near the apartment for Pran. He woke up and washed up in the
bathroom. Lured by the food smell, Pran came back out before he
could take a shower. He looked painfully drained, not a single hint of
the old dreamy Pran Oppa. I put the food on a plate and passed him
a spoon and fork. Now, he is just sitting there and savoring his meal.
"Where did you buy this?"
"Aunty Kaew."
"Right, it's really good today. Lots of meat."
"I ordered extra pork. The fried egg is under the rice. It slid
down there when I pour everything on the plate."
I finished my portion before Pran was awake. He nods as thank
when I fill his glass with water.
"Pat, did you do something wrong? Why are you oddly nice
today?"
"What? I'm just a nice guy." The truth is, I heard garlic helps
boost sexual stamina, and so do eggs. That's why I'm giving them to
my lover. If he gets horny, I will take care of it. But I'm not asking for
more right now. I feel bad, seeing how wearied he is.
"When are you going home?"
"This evening. I'll be off after Par's done shopping for shoes
with her friends. I'll be back tomorrow evening. Are you sure you can
stand being separated from me?"
"Take your time."
"Really?"
"Yeah."
"You're supposed to say, 'Really.' Now I can't finish the lyrics."
"What an old song."
"The song can't be compared to this, 'Can I touch you, baby?'"
"Shut up. I'm eating."
 He always tells me off when blushing. I can't help but laugh,
enjoying the sight of his frown. I move my hand forward and touch
his fingertips. Pran quickly grabs the fork, though he's been eating
with only the spoon.
"Why don't you play with me, Pran?"
"Don't be so demanding. I'm tired."
"Is your body aching? You slept a lot."
"Yeah." Pran tilts his head. I get off my seat to massage him
from the back. He continues eating quietly as I stop messing with
him.
"You're stiff."
"I didn't know you know how to massage."
"I used to massage A–ma before she passed away."
"Your family is weird," Pran says. I lift my eyebrow, still
massaging him. "You call your grandma 'A–ma,' but you call your
parents 'Dad' and 'Mom.' Like, are your family Chinese or not?"
"Don't think I'm only half–human, half–god. I also have a little
bit of Chinese blood. My dad is practically Chinese, but my mom
overpowers him. She doesn't want me to call them 'Pa' and 'Ma,'
saying we live in Thailand and we're Thai. She prefers being
addressed in Thai."
"She's not mixed?"
"No," I answer, pressing my thumps along his muscles. Pran is
full but stays put. "Why don't you take a shower to freshen up?"
"Right. Take the key on the fridge. I think I need more sleep."
I nod in understanding and bend down to hug him from behind.
I wrap my arms around him and the chair, resting my chin on his
shoulder. Pran doesn't seem to be as stiff as before as he lean his
head on my shoulder.
"Wanna take a shower together?"
"As if."
"I'll scrub your back."
"Pervert."
"I won't do anything. Just this once. I promise."
Pran laughs a little. I raise one of his arms, slip my head under
it, and lift his body up. Pran yells and hits my back. He's heavy but
still endurable.
"I said, no. And what does 'this once' even mean?"
I laugh, kneel down, and lock both of us in the bathroom. Once
I've put Pran down, I plant my hands on the wall, forming a small
cage to keep him in place. We hold each other's gazes with our lips
curling up. Our eyes are sparkling, shy, yet challenging.
"I'm going to kiss you."
No refuse detected. That means Pran is willing to do this with
me.
"Is school so stressful, Pat?"
Our family is having dinner together after…I guess I should
give up on counting the months. Dad, Mom, Par, me, and our
favorite dishes all over the table. My bowl contains a mountain of rice
that I probably won't finish. Dad and Mom are obviously thrilled that I
came home after a long while.
"Par visited us once in a while, but you never turned up."
"I'm busy. It's my last year, after all."
"I guess so. Look at you. So burnt–out. You resemble pandas.
What an awful sight."
"Come on, Mom. It's normal for a man." A man who lost sleep
from keeping another man company at night. I mumble those words
in my mind. Par seems surprised with my appearance, even.
"I did tell Pat to go to bed early, Mom."
"Must've studied hard."
"I wonder." My sister's voice turns high–pitched, eyeing me in
doubt. She can't complain about how I kept bothering Pran at his
apartment. Otherwise, Dad and Mom will tear us siblings into pieces.
"It's because you don't find someone to take care of you. And
when you did, you couldn't find a decent girl. You'll be graduating
soon, yet you never introduce anyone to us. You won't have time to
get yourself a wife once you start working, Pat."
"I don't need one. Par can take care of me."
"She's a girl. She's going to marry someone and move out one
day, but you're going to be here with a wife to look after you.
Anyway, I went to the religious ceremony at the temple the other day
and saw Duang. Do you remember Duang, Pat?"
 I scoop a blood jelly from chicken coconut soup with my spoon
and put it in my bowl, nodding along. "And do you remember Punch?
She used to play with you and Par every weekend."
"I do. We went to the same cram school."
"She's grown up and very gorgeous. She studies in Chiang Mai
right now. What a well–mannered girl. I'm so happy for Duang."
"Right." Par kicks me under the table. When I look up and see
Mom's gratified gaze, I raise my eyebrow in confusion. "So?"
"I didn't know you'd come here today. If I'd known, I would've
invited Duang and Punch to join our dinner. For old times' sake."
"Old times? I wasn't even close to Punch."
"It's so that you can be closer to her."
I glance at Dad, who shrugs without any comment. It's typical
for Chinese families to find a bride for their son. I mean, yes, my dad
is half–Chinese. But didn't he get rid of this matter by marrying to my
Thai mom? Why are they bringing back the tradition in my
generation?
"Are you suggesting arranged marriage?"
"Why did you put it that way? You're single, aren't you? I just
want you to try getting along with her."
"Mom, in this day and age? Don't be ridiculous."
"What's ridiculous?" Mom giggles, incredibly pleased. "Punch is
so cute, Pat. Just wait and see. When you meet her, you'll ask me to
prepare a wedding right away. Besides, she seemed interested when
I mentioned you. It's not like I want to rush things, anyway. You two
can take time learning more about each other."
I glance at Par. My sister gives me a docile smile and holds up
her palms to decline that she tricked me into coming home to be
paired up with Mom's best friend's daughter who grew up together.
"Mom, it's too soon to discuss this subject. I'm not even at the
crucial age of twenty–five. If I still don't have a lover by then, we'll
talk about this again."
"That's what I thought. You two can start as friends and get
married in the next few years."
Mom scoops out a blood jelly from the delicious chicken
coconut soup and places it in my bowl. I look at the brown cube and
feel like screaming.
You could've just ripped my heart out and boiled it for a meal.
"I think it's a good idea, though."
I excused myself and went to my room after dinner, looking all
awkward. My sister is lying on the bed. She shakes a water marble
and watches the glitter inside fall down slowly by gravity. Her eyes
follow it with no worries while I'm fidgeting, spinning in my chair. My
thoughts are all jumbled.
"At least the girl Mom recommended is better than the ones
you dated until now."
"Are you kidding me?"
"Who's kidding? I mean it."
"This is not okay. I have someone I like."
"Seriously? Who? Don't tell me it's that witch, Nat."
"You really hate her, huh?"
"Yes, I hate her. Don't make me say anything more, or you
might misunderstand that I envy her." Par cuts short, but she's still
curious. I hesitate whether I should tell her or not. But this is Par, it
should be all right. "Who is it? Do I know her?"
"You do."
"Your friend? It's weird. You don't have any female friends, for
the record."
"Yeah, it's my friend." I ruffle my hair, wishing to pull it all out.
"Well, 'friend' isn't the right term. I don't know."
"Why didn't you tell Mom earlier? You're always like this."
"I couldn't."
"Hey, if you don't say it, then be prepared to marry Punch. Mom
isn't so strict that she won't approve of other girls, Pat. She's just
worried as you've been single for quite some time since you were
deceived by that girl during high school years."
"My lover is a guy, Par." One thing came out, and I'm not sure
how to tell her the other one. Par stiffens, looking at me in disbelief.
"Are you gay?"
"If that's how you call men who like men, I guess I am."
"Don't joke with me. This is not a laughing matter."
"Why would I joke about this? I'm freaking stressed out."
 "Just tell Mom you like guys, then."
That's only the tip of an iceberg. The problem is the identity of
my boyfriend. I sigh deeply and meet my sister's eyes, then I slide
forward in my chair until I can grab her knees. I hold her gaze and
muster up the courage to get the words out.
"You gotta help me, Par. I'm dating Pran."
"Ugh, why wasn't I this sharp when taking the exams?"
"Whoa." Damn you, Par. "How did you find out?"
"Come on, you two clung to each other like glue. Besides,
when you had a fight back then, both of you took it so seriously that
it was unusual for just friends. It was only just a guess, though. I
never thought it'd be true." We both sigh simultaneously, finally
grasping the real problem here. "What do we do now?"
"I don't know. If I knew, I wouldn't be this stressed."
"Is Pran scary when jealous? Why don't you try explaining it to
him? If Pran can accept it, you might get married just for show and
stay in a relationship with him."
"Par, can you stand it if your lover is involved with someone
else? Plus, Pran gives me the cold shoulder when he's jealous. I
won't even have a chance to explain anything at that point." When
Nat was in the picture, Pran avoided me and snapped at me at
times. However, he hurt me the most when he stuck to Waiyakorn.
Okay, it's normal to spend time with a friend during difficult times, but
couldn't he hang out with someone aside from that punk?
"There's no way out, Par."
"Since when? I'm curious."
"I've had a crush on him for ages," I confess for the first time. I
can't tell her when it started, though. "But I was certain about my
feelings only recently."
"My dear brother. Ugh, am I watching Romeo and Juliet right
now?"
"Not that one, Par. I don't want to die at the end. And I doubt
Pran would kill himself to join my death. I'm way more pathetic than
Romeo."
"Still joking, huh?"
 Who says I'm joking? I'm dead serious. Both of us sit in the
same position. We rest our heads in our palms, trying to come up
with some solution.
"What the hell should we do, Pat?"
I exhale and tilt my head. If I could figure it out myself, why
would I ask for your freaking help?
Keep on dating him and I die. Break up with him and I die.
Why is my life so tough?
 | SCENE NINETEEN |
Pran | talk

'Weird.'
It's the only word that pops up in my mind as I roll around in my
bed. After waking up, I took a shower, put on new clothes, had
breakfast, and lay down on my bed to chill out. The same room, the
same bed, the same blanket, the same pillow. Everything is the
same, yet it feels different somehow. The air–conditioner feels more
chilling, the blanket is less warm, and the bed seems more spacious.
This strange silence lingers in the air. I've lived here for four years
and never felt this way before. Pat has gone home for only a day, but
why did my room become so lifeless?
I must be used to having the other guy clinging to me too
much. We've been together day and night for over a month. I saw
him whenever I opened my eyes. Worse still, he was always in my
sight since I didn't really get much sleep in the first place.
This kind of familiarity is scary.
I enter the living room and sweep my eyes over the area that is
now tidier than it was in the fiery thesis period. For a month, I ate
and slept before the laptop. My eyes were fixed on the screen. I was
like a zombie getting dug out of my grave, forcing my heavy eyelids
open to complete my work in time. I barely had time to shower, let
alone cleaning up the room. Although the nasty guy like Pat
sometimes swept and mopped the floor for me, it was still a mess. I
clasp the black plastic bag containing the bits and pieces left from
my project model and dump it in the trash bin near the elevator. I
head back to my room, wash my hands, and grab my backpack,
ready to go home.
It's because I haven't gone home for a month already and
missed my parents, not because of that wild dog who got called
home first…
I get out of the taxi cab and enter the front gate of my house,
then I spot Pat on his balcony. He lifts an eyebrow in surprise. I stifle
a smile, not waving hello, and just walk inside in a composed
manner.
"I'm home."
As soon as I step into my house, I see Mom reading a book on
a couch near the balcony. She gives me a sweet smile and opens
her arms for me to embrace her.
"Why do you look so knackered? You lost sleep again, right?"
After a long hug, Mom withdraws to take a good look at me. Her pale
hand strokes my cheek before landing gently below my eye. "Look at
these dark circles."
"I didn't get much sleep, but I feel better now." I smile broadly
and kiss Mom's cheek. "Where's Dad?"
"He went out. He'll be back soon. Put your stuff in your room
and have some food. I'll tell the maid to prepare your lunch."
"All right."
I pull back from Mom's arms and smile one more time before
going upstairs. When I'm about to put my backpack down, my phone
vibrates in my pocket. It's not hard to guess who is calling.
"What's up?" I keep my voice unbothered. I lower my backpack
on the table and take my things out.
[You didn't tell me you'd come home.] Pat whines, putting a
smile on my face.
"You saw me."
[It's not the same.]
"Okay," I oblige and pause. "I'm going home today. Have you
reached home? Happy?"
Pat laughs. [All right.] His answer rattles me a little. Why did he
give up so easily?
"Is everything okay at your place?"
[Nothing's changed.]
"Did your Mom nag at you for not going home earlier?"
[No…]
"What's wrong? You're not chatty today."
 [I'm not?]
"Um, are you all right?"
[I must've missed you too much. We haven't seen each other
for over a day. I'm so lonely, unable to cuddle you.]
I frown, sensing something odd in his voice despite his attempt
to sound playful. We've been together for a while. Why wouldn't I
catch it? I don't think he'd admit it, though. When Pat decides to be
stubborn, he's truly something else.
"Have you eaten?" Changing the topic is probably the best
choice right now.
[Yeah. What about you?]
See…? This is unusual. If it were before, Pat would've used a
tiny voice, saying he can't eat much at home because he wants to
eat with his lover and so on. He wouldn't give me such a hollowed,
boring answer like this one.
"I'm going to have lunch now. I'm organizing my stuff."
[Enjoy your meal, then. You're too skinny. Call me once you've
done.]
"All right, I'm hanging up."
Pat mumbles a response. I end the call and stare at the screen
displaying the icons in worry. Did his mom scold him? Or did Par get
chewed out on his behalf that he became so meek? Only a few
things can turn Pat gloomy.
"You're here." The familiar, low voice greets me as I descend
the stairs in my casual clothes.
"Hi, Dad. You're home?"
"I should be the one asking that question. I haven't seen your
face for a month."
"It's the thesis. I almost died in front of my laptop," I laugh and
walk to him. "Have you eaten?"
"I was waiting for you. Your mom is already at the table," Dad
says. He approaches me and pats my shoulder. "You're all skin and
bones."
"I won't be like this for long."
"All right. Eat a lot today. Oh…I also have a guest."
"A guest? Who?"
 "You'll see."
I raise my eyebrow and trail after Dad into the dining room.
Once I've passed through the entrance, a surprised smile appears
on my face, seeing the person seated next to Mom.
"Pong, bro!"
"It's been a while, Pran."
"When did you come back?" It's been three years, from what I
remember, since my first year in college. He left to study in England
and never visited us. "You didn't tell me."
"How could I? You weren't active on Skype."
"I've been super busy with school works. Look at me. I'm so
close to being a zombie."
"I know. Did you get skinnier?"
"I didn't even have time to sleep. When could I have a meal?
How long are you staying, by the way?"
"I'm leaving on the day after tomorrow. My best friend's getting
married, so I flew back to congratulate them. I stopped by to say hi to
Uncle and Aunt. I didn't expect to see you here. I was thinking of
visitting your apartment," Pong goes on and on. He bends down to
pick up a shopping bag and hands it to me. "Here, it's yours."
"You've gone for three years, and this is all I get."
"Come on. Anyway, what's your plan after graduation?"
"I still can't figure it out. I want to rest first," I say. I take the
plate Mom passes over and thank her.
"I want you to continue studying. There's no rush to get a job.
You can study business and take over your dad's company," Mom
suggests.
"Or you can study and work at the same time. The quicker you
work with me, the better. That way, the son of that family won't be
able to catch up. He seems frivolous, a lost cause," Dad growls,
feeding himself a spoonful of rice. When the topics about jobs or
business are brought up, the other family will be mentioned without
fail.
Still, I furrow my brow. As flippant as Pat seems to be, he
always gets his jobs done.
 "Or do you want to get another certificate in interior design? I'll
set up a company for you so we can extend our business. That
family won't be able to copy us."
"Why don't you talk about this later? Pran looks tired. Let him
eat first."
I want to thank Pong out loud for saving me. With this rivalry
prolonging, I don't think I can barely stand these spiteful criticisms.
No matter how much time has passed, I still can't pinpoint the reason
for their hatred. Not to mention that we live next door.
My eyes flick to my parents enjoying their food. It makes me
uneasy. What would they say when they find out the son of the
family they greatly despise took care of me twenty–four seven during
my thesis period? Would Dad hate me when he discovers that I fell
asleep in the embrace of the person he deems frivolous every night?
"What's wrong? You're frowning." I look up to find Pong sitting
down on the couch and setting a big bowl of ice cream in front of me.
"Isn't it your favorite?"
"It is." I beam and take the bowl of blue–green ice cream, mint
flavor, my addiction. I usually store a few huge boxes of it when I'm
home. "You're not eating?"
"I only need coffee," Pong says, raising a cup of hot coffee.
"What's the matter, though?"
"It's nothing."
"How stubborn. You didn't change at all in the past three
years."
I smile, swallow a big spoonful, and turn to meet his eyes.
Pong is the son of my mother's brother. He's my cousin, five years
older than me. We spent a lot of time together when we were young.
Pong taught me loads of things. He's reliable, calm, sharp, and
brilliant. I can never hide anything from him. We were pretty close
until he traveled to England three years ago to study for a master's
degree and never once flew back to Thailand.
"Did you have fun in England?"
"I did. I've been to various places and made quite a lot of
foreign friends. I've learned new things. There's so much waiting for
me to discover that I didn't want to come back."
 "Didn't Aunty scold you? You've gone for a long time."
"She complained every now and then. Well, what could she
possibly do when I decided not to come back?"
"Lucky you."
"Hmm?" Pong lifts his eyebrow as if teasing me. "What? You
were all sullen during the meal. Is there something you wish to do
after graduation but can't?"
"Something like that."
"What is it?"
I press my lips together and turn around to make sure my
parents are nowhere near us. The guy next to me laughs lowly.
What's so funny? Who else can live their lives any way they want
like him? "After graduation, I want to travel for a few months…and I
want to find a job myself. I never think of taking over Dad's
business."
"Why? Who else would it if not you? They only have you."
"I don't want to be on bad terms with anyone. It's distressing."
"You don't have to hate people your parents detest. You can't
change them, but you can change yourself."
"…It's hard."
"You think this is hard? How weak–minded."
"Yeah, too tired to be strong." I lay my head on the headrest.
The son of the other family appears in my mind. I have this feeling
that I wish I could escape from reality.
I want to go back to my apartment…
After seeing Pong off, I head back to my room and make a
phone call to the person who must've sneezed thousands of times.
My parents did curse him a great deal. I thought his easy–going
quality would chase away the uneasiness my parents' conversation
caused as always, but I was wrong. This unpredictable wild dog is
still downhearted.
"What the hell is wrong with you, Pat?"
[Nothing.]
"You're so down but still insist that it's nothing."
[Who's feeling down? I was telling you a joke just now. Not
funny?]
 "Did you think I couldn't feel it?"
[No. Of course, you can feel anything. You're human.]
"…" I fucking hate your stupid, distracting joke, Pat. "Are you
looking down on me?"
[I…]
"If I fail to see that something's wrong with you, don't call me
your boyfriend."
[Pran…]
"What happened?"
[It's nothing. I just missed you. I couldn't sleep at all.]
I sigh heavily. Why is he so stubborn? I feel like punching him
in the face. "Pat."
[Yes, sir.]
"Forget it."
[Are you mad?]
"Do I have a reason to be?"
Pat pauses for a while, then he continues. [Can we meet up
after eleven? At the marble bench.]
"Are you nuts? Our parents will kill us if they know."
[But you're mad at me…]
"I'm not."
[Then come to me. I miss you so much.]
"No."
[All right. I'll go alone.]
"You…" I sigh and change the subject. "What are you doing?"
[Talking to my boyfriend.]
"Don't use that voice with me."
[I want to go back to our apartment.]
"Whose apartment?"
[Ours.]
"It's mine. How can it be yours"
[The wife's possession is also the husband's. Isn't it normal?]
"Don't go overboard. Who are the wife and the husband?"
Knock, knock.
"Dear, what are you doing?"
 My mom's sweet voice follows the knocks. I turn my attention
from the phone to answer the person behind the door. "I just took a
shower. Wait a minute, Mom." I whisper to the phone. "Gotta go now.
My mom's calling."
[Come and see me after eleven.]
"You don't understand a single thing."
[I don't care. I'll wait.]
I exhale in frustration as my mom knocks on the door again
when the son next door hangs up, robbing off my chance to decline.
It's been a long while since I came home, so my parents have
a lot to catch up with me. It's half–past eleven by the time they let me
go to bed. Pat texted me an hour ago, but I couldn't reply. I call him
as soon as I'm in my room. After that, I stay put until all the lights are
turned off. I tiptoe down the stairs and sneak to the backyard. I wait
for the son of the house next door at the marble bench under the
tree in the dark, not turning on the light. Mosquitos are flying
everywhere at night. Good thing I wear long pants, but the bites on
my arms and shoulders are painfully itching.
A few moments later, I hear a clattering sound from the gate. I
notice a phone flashlight before Pat climbs up the wall between our
houses. He waves his hand happily, and I give him a stern nod. He
should stop playing around and jump down already.
As Pat positions himself on the wall and flings his other leg to
my side, the light in the dining room is suddenly turned on. My heart
drops, and my hands turn cold the second someone shouts.
"Who's that?!!"
FWIP!
My dad pushes the balcony door open and shows himself. He
stares daggers at Pat, not noticing my presence. My eyes widen
when I see the black thing in my dad's grip.
"Dad!" I cry out and jump forward to block Pat, who still hasn't
landed on the ground properly.
"Pran? What are you doing there? Go and get your phone. I'm
going to call the police to arrest him!"
"Dad, calm down. Why did you bring the gun?"
 "Because the son of that family dares to be a thief climbing in
over the wall!"
"Hold on, Dad!" I seize Dad's arm when he's stomping towards
Pat. Overwhelmed with shock, I blurt out without thinking. "I'm the
one calling him here!"
My dad goes still and turns his head to me with the gaze I don't
have the guts to meet.
 | SCENE TWENTY |
Pat | talk

It's burdening to confront your parents after almost getting shot

by the family next door.
I'm on a couch in the living room with my mom scowling
nearby. My dad crosses his arms, wearing the same expression as
the gun owner as if he also wants to kill me.
"I'm asking you, when did you get close to him?"
I glimpse at Par, who stands anxiously further away. All I can
do is keep my mouth shut.
"Aren't you going to answer, Pat?"
"We're not close."
"Don't lie."
I roll my eyes, feeling suffocated to be squeezed out an
explanation. And I'm not good at lying. "We go to the same
university. We're bound to see each other at times."
"You don't have to interact with him when you see him. That
family is damn arrogant and envious. They know our business is
going well, so they try to mess us up. Their son is no good as well.
Don't ever be like him, okay? His family runs a construction
company, yet he chose to study Architecture."
"It's the same field. You can't build a house with only engineers.
You work in this business, so you must know these two careers are
related."
"You're talking back now? Reflect on your action, you brat! Stop
hanging out with him. Didn't you see his face? He's hollow–eyed and
skinny like a drug addict. Are you two selling drugs?"
"This is going too far. I just wanted his advice about
something."
"Why didn't you come to us instead? You took us for nothing?"
 No matter how hard I try to explain, they view it as a shallow
excuse. I massage my temples. I can't get my words through Dad
when he raises his voice like this. And as much as I'm not obedient,
it's too troublesome for me to argue with people.
"All right, all right, I'll stop seeing him. Is that it? I'm sleepy. I
want to go to bed."
"Don't brush it off. Napat, Par, come here."
The girl, my only hope, steps forward, responding to the call.
She gives me a signal with her eyes. We're on the same page.
"Keep a watch on your brother from now on. Do not let him
hang out with that junkie. They'll eventually ruin their own lives
otherwise."
"Pran isn't a junkie. He looked worn–out because he stayed up
all night completing his project."
"How could he stay up all night if he didn't use drugs? You're
still young and na๏ve, Pat."
Par pouts at those words while I sigh. He always sees us as
children.
"Take good care of your brother from now on, Par."
"I won't let him out of my sight."
"And you, Pat, don't be naughty."
I respond in a mumble and exhales behind Dad's back. After a
two–hour lecture, I survive this day in a struggle.
"You shouldn't have gone that way."
Par grumbles when we're back in my room. I sigh, looking out
the window. Pran's room is still dark. He must be squeezed dry by
now. With that thought, I plop down on my bed in exhaustion.
My sister's room is next to mine on the left. If she isn't busy
chatting with her boyfriend on the phone, she usually plays games in
my room. We only have each other and understand one another
more than our parents, who raised us. Since we're close in age, we
share our personal matters and see eye to eye.
"I've never gotten caught before."
"That was hasty. You almost got hurt."
"Well, I survived."
"For how long?"
 "This is hard."
"And your lover has to be Pran, of all people."
I sigh. Pran's room is finally lit up. I drag a chair, settle it by the
window, and give him a call. He answers in a weary voice and draws
the curtain open without returning my gaze. He keeps picking up this
and that around him in a daze.
"How's it going?"
[Got a lecture as expected. What about you?]
"Um, as you can guess. Are you okay?"
[Um.]
Pran says with a level tone, sighing. I know. We're both
troubled by something neither of us started.
"I'm sorry."
[For what?]
I hesitate, unable to choose one. For climbing the wall to see
him so carelessly? For being peculiarly and noticeably stressed? For
our parents' opposition? Or for falling in love with him?
No matter what it is, I hate Pran's depressed expression in that
house right now.
"Pran, let's go back to our place on the day after tomorrow."
He turns his eyes from a book he's reading to the window. Our
eyes meet, with no sweet words exchanged. But the moment we
think of our room, the place we can do whatever we're pleased, my
heart suddenly feels warm.
"Let's go back to be together, Pran."
That night, Pran and I agreed to leave separately at different
times. My parents would drive me back in the morning while Pran
would follow in the afternoon. Dad and Mom nagged at me since this
morning until we've arrived at the destination. I made a promise to
give them some peace and end the topic. Even so, they just can't
stop themselves when it comes to Pran.
"Just see me off here. I'll go up by myself."
"Pat, don't be naughty, okay?"
"Yeeeeah," I respond. Par and I grab our backpacks and get
out of the car. Both of us siblings heave a sigh and say goodbye to
our parents. They remind Par to keep watch on me again, then we
watch the car depart.
"I don't want to graduate."
I mumble to no one. The thought about the future lowers my
spirits. I don't want to imagine how my relationship with Pran will be
when we move out of here. My sister touches my elbow to comfort
me. Right now, Par is the only one who understands this desperate
situation.
"I really want to know why our families are on bad terms."
"Nothing we can do anyway." Par's answer hollows the
miserable hole in my heart. I nod and push the elevator button so we
can organize our stuff in our apartment. I check the time on the
clock, waiting to see Pran. I can't help wondering what more we can
do. In a family that expects their son to marry a girl, it's hard to
accept that their son is gay. Worse, their son's lover is from the
family they despise more than anything else. Everything feels
hopeless.
"Take your time to find a solution, Pat. You're still in the clear,
so just enjoy your life at the moment."
I agree with her. After counting down the time for a while, Pran
finally texts me, saying he's taking off. I reply to confirm that the
coast is clear and lie down on my bed.
To Par and me, it's normal for our parents to give us a lift. But
today, Pran's parents drive him here, suspicious of our relationship.
They also keep an eye on Pran.
"Will you tell Pran about Punch?" Par queries. I press my
tongue on the inside of my cheek, mulling over it. The TV is left on,
but my eyes wander away.
"I'm thinking about how long I can hide it from him."
"Why don't you just tell him straightforwardly? That way, you
two can figure things out together."
"Or break up sooner."
I've never thought of myself as a coward…
Until our relationship is on the line.
My phone rings in the late afternoon. I fell asleep while
watching the TV. Par is playing on her phone in her room. The
screen displays Pran's number. I pick up drowsily and get
indecipherable shouts as a response, like a fight. It sounds
unpleasant. Pran cries out in the middle of everything. I think he's
telling me to come down.
"Par."
I call my sister. She looks up and takes off an earbud. "Where
are you going?"
"Pran told me to come down."
"Huh? Didn't his mom drive him here? Things will get ugly if
you meet her."
"I don't know. Do you need anything? I'll buy it."
"Oh, I ran out of tampons. I'll buy it myself. Where's my wallet?"
"Use mine."
Par beams and clutches my arms as if I'm a millionaire. She
locks the door as I wait for the elevator. She catches up with me
when the only elevator in this condo arrives.
"What did he say?"
"It was loud, so I couldn't hear much. He might need me to
carry some stuff, but he never asked me to do anything besides
doing the dishes."
"Whoa, I guess he found out about Punch."
"I'll slap your mouth."
Par puts out her tongue, teasing me. Once we stop on the first
floor and the elevator door parts, my sister and I could never prepare
ourselves for the scene before us. Two middle–aged men are
charging towards each other. Pran is trying to stop his dad while a
security guard locks my dad's arms. Fortunately, our moms only
shout at each other, not using violence like their husbands.
"You're here, you brat. What's the meaning of this? Why didn't
you tell us you live in the same condo as this junkie?"
"Who's the junkie? Watch your mouth. I'm going to file a charge
of slander."
"What about you calling my son a troublemaker? Can I file a
charge as well?"
"Stop it, Mom. Dad, you too. Why are you fighting? We live in
the same building, so what? We've all lived in the same housing
estate for over ten years."
"Pat! Are you talking back now?"
"Dad, calm down," Par tries.
"You two use this place for unlawful purposes, right? I wanted
you to take care of your sister here, not doing drugs with this kid."
"Doing drugs? Your son kept bothering Pran that he had to
work until dawn. Him being unruly is one thing, but now he's
dragging my son down."
"Dad, cut it out. We did nothing bad. I think you and Mom
should leave now."
"How can we leave? We have to settle this."
What a match. As we outnumber the other family, Par and I
successfully pull Dad out of the building. Pran and I make eye
contact, agreeing to deal with our own family. The commotion I heard
over the phone back then must've been these adults getting at each
other's throats.
They disapprove of the young fighting, yet these old men
brawled without a care of their health. Unbelievable.
"Why did you come back, Dad? Didn't you go home?"
"If Par hadn't left her wallet in the car, I would've never learned
that you've lived in the same building as that kid, right?"
"We just live in the same building." That's not all. I actually want
to say that it's no problem even if we sleep in the same bed. The
ones with problems are the adults.
"Why do you have to kick a fuss over this? It's no big deal."
"You helped your brother hide it from us, Par," Mom scolds my
sister, seeing how my dad's words didn't work on me. "I knew it. You
couldn't become friends just because you crossed paths at times in
the university. Did your grades drop because you'd been distracted?"
"My grades dropped because I didn't study hard. Don't blame
someone else mindlessly, Mom."
"Now you're protecting him. Are you so close?"
"If I say we're close, you tell me off. If I say we're not, you think
I lie. What kind of answer do you want, Dad?"
I run my fingers through my hair, boiling up. Even the bird
chirps and the breeze can't alleviate the irritation. I lick my lips. Par is
the first one sensing that I'm no different from the overworked engine
right now.
"Dad, please stop."
My sister cautions, but Dad is still fuming. If you wonder who I
take these stubborn and impulsive qualities after, here he is. Mom
just doesn't want to oppose Dad most of the time. She's also calmer,
and so is Par.
I never listen to my parents.
The most I can do is listen but never take them seriously.
"Pack your stuff. You're moving back to our house."
"I won't."
"How can you not? How long do you think you can live this
reckless life? You have to move back sooner or later anyway. You
have a house and a company to manage. You can't continue being a
purposeless brat. Didn't you take most of the exams?"
"I still have some left. Those were quizzes. How can I leave?
There are projects to work on. Stop being ludicrous and blinded by
your own prejudice."
"You're the one who should stop mingling with that kind of
friend. Did I give you too much freedom? Do you have any idea that
everything I taught you was out of goodwill?"
"You just want me to hate Pran the way you hate his dad."
"I don't care. You have to go back home," Dad finishes in a curt
voice. We stare at each other relentlessly. "I'll buy you a car. Choose
the model you want. But you have to go with us."
"No need to lure me with such a thing. I'm not leaving."
"Par, pack your stuff."
"Aren't you listening to me?!"
I shove my dad's chest and Mom screams. Par rushes forward
to hold me, trying to calm me down. This is ridiculous. I fled from my
house to spend time with Pran, but it turns out I'm still haunted by
this nightmare.
"Par has to come home. I'm not letting her be near a snake like
the kid from that family," Mom snarls.
"Go on. Do as you please."
 "Can you stand seeing your sister take a bus and have a hard
time just because you want to be with that lousy friend of yours?"
Dad knows what's important to me, the thing that ties me to our
house. Par tightens her hug as if feeling the boiling rage spreading
all over my body.
"You can't use Par like this."
"We'll see."
I force my eyes close, lips pressed tight. I shake Par off and
kick a marble table under a tree shade so hard that the piece falls
off.
"Go and get your stuff."
I glare at Dad one last time and stomp back into the building.
Pran is nowhere in sight. He probably took his parents to his room. I
go up alone, leaving Par to handle our parents. I need to cool my
head after the fight.
"Pat."
The door next to my room is opened. Pran's parents stand
behind him. I fold my hands over my chest to greet them, but it
doesn't seem to ease their anger.
"If someone has to leave, It should be me. You should stay
here. You have tons of work. It'd be tough for you to go back and
forth from your house to the university."
I press my lips and sigh. One of us needs to go home to
prevent any possible interactions between us as they want.
"Pat…"
"My dad told me to pack up. I'll take only the necessaries today.
I'm sorry. I didn't know they'd come back."
"It's all right." We hold each other's gazes. There's so much
more to say, but the cough from behind makes us avert our eyes
awkwardly. "Get home safe."
"I'm sorry. I never meant to cause a ruckus. Please let Pran
stay here. It's better for him."
I head inside my room before they can curse me again. This is
just the beginning, Pat. What's your next move to be with Pran?
I lean my back against the door and shut my eyes, with this
painful thought remaining in my mind.
 | SCENE TWENTY–ONE |
Pran | talk

Pat has left, but his expression still lingers in my mind. I clench
my fists, unable to endure this suffocating feeling. I wish to pulverize
this damn wall, break these adults' stupid prejudice that chains my
leg, and run out to pull the guy who was about to cry into a hug.
Whose fault is this? When did this endless war start? And how long
do we have to wait for it to be over?
"Why did you never tell us you live in the same place as him?"
My lips are pressed so tightly that they hurt as my dad asks the
question brusquely. I keep my eyes on the door and count from one
to ten silently to relieve the fury smoldering in my chest. "Pran! I'm
asking you!"
My patience crumbles when my dad shouts and yanks my
shoulder to face me. I pull myself off the grip, showing displeasure.
Dad seems taken aback by my reaction.
"I don't see how it's wrong."
"What did you say?" Dad whispers lowly through gritted teeth.
Mom calls my name in an attempt to hold me back. I don't think the
one who has to cool down is me, though.
"I said, I don't see how it's wrong."
"How is it not wrong?! Is this why you didn't go home
recently?!"
"It has nothing to do with that, Dad," I shoot back as the level of
my dad's anger climbs up. "I worked on my tasks here and dealt with
my responsibilities. I never once misbehaved as you two believed.
And Pat did nothing wrong. What's so wrong about us being friends
or acquaintances?!"
"Pran!"
 "Both of you hate Pat's parents, but what does that have to do
with me?!"
"The apple never falls far from the tree!"
"He didn't do anything to you!"
We're both shaking, our faces twisting in rage. Our words mean
nothing to each other, and we get louder the more we argue. We can
do nothing but shout because reasons don't work with their
resentment towards that family.
"I forbid you to see him."
"I don't care."
"Pran!"
"When will you put down your prejudice, Dad? If you open your
heart for once, you'll know Pat isn't that bad."
"I know it now. You've never talked back like this before. Who
else did you absorb this action from, if not that brat?"
"I just can't stand this nonsense anymore."
"I think we have to talk about studying abroad seriously." My
dad's voice turns cold, and my expression gets stern. I recall Dad's
words during Pong's first year in England. He said he would send me
there to be with him. I didn't care much back then since my parents
always gave me the freedom to decide on my education, and I never
wanted to be far from home. Plus, I have Pat now.
I know damn well that Dad is threatening me…
"What do you mean?" Although I know exactly what he means,
I can only ask the question in a softer voice.
"Don't make me do what I don't want to do." Dad looks into my
eyes quietly. When he's sure I won't say another word, he tells Mom,
who's standing by his side, that he's ready to leave. Dad steps out of
the room without saying goodbye.
The door is banged shut. I don't move, still staring ahead at
where my dad was. A warm touch lands on my shoulder, and I raise
my eyes to meet Mom's gaze.
"You understand him, don't you? Everything your dad did was
for your sake. That family is full of shame. I don't want you to
associate with them."
"…" There's no point arguing.
 "I'll be off now. Don't forget your dad's words, Pran."
I neither speak nor nod, just standing there until I'm the only
one left in the room. I sigh wearily and flop onto a couch.
My tears are so close to fall down…
[I'm sorry.]
An apology uttered in a guilty voice without a hint of playfulness
sends a pain in my chest. It doesn't sound like Pat at all.
"Why are you apologizing? I'm the one in the wrong."
[You're not, Pran.]
"If I hadn't been unreasonably mad at you, you wouldn't have
insisted on seeing me."
[You were worried about me. How was that wrong? I was acting
like an idiot.]
"…What did your parents say?"
[They kicked up a fuss as expected. Nothing new.]
"Um…"
[What are you doing?]
"I'm going to bed," I tell him the truth, pulling the blanket over
my waist up to cover my chest. The room is strangely chilly. "You?"
[I'm on my bed. It's not even a big bed, but it somehow feels
empty.]
"That's also how I feel. My bed is big, but now it feels really
big."
Our soft, joyless laughs quickly fade into silence. We both
listen to each other's breathing for a moment before Pat speaks
again.
[I miss you, Pran.]
"…Um," I mumble, clenching my grip on the blanket.
[I want to hug you so fucking much.]
"I also…"
[…Pat!]
I pause, hearing a distant shout from the other side.
[Gotta hang up. I'll call you later. My mom's knocking on the
door…Why don't you open the door, Pat?! In a second, Mom! I'll call
you later.]
 Pat explains the situation hurriedly as his mom keeps yelling.
After he's hung up, I put my phone down quietly. I gaze at the ceiling,
waiting for my phone to vibrate again. In the end, I fall asleep and
wake up in the morning just to find no missed calls.
"What's wrong, Pran?"
Wai asks and knocks my knee gently. I look up from the lecture
table. "Nothing…"
"Nothing, my ass. You've been down for a week now. Have a
fight with Pat?"
I shake my head as a response. Things would've been easier if
it was just a fight with Pat.
"Did Pat run away to someone else?"
"What the hell? I'll kick you off the chair."
"Aw, you're worried now." Read the mood, Wai, you asshole.
"Shut up."
Wai laughs, happy to successfully tease me. "What
happened?"
"Just tired."
"What makes you so tired? You've caught up on sleep."
"It's nothing."
I lie and put my face in the cradle of my arms on the table. Wai
sighs, but I have no intention to continue the conversation. I close
my eyes and keep to myself. I haven't talked with Pat since that
night, and I couldn't reach him at all. Our class schedules don't
match and it's not easy to stumble across each other on campus.
"Pran!"
SLAP!
"Fuck! That hurts!" I spring back up as Wai shouts in my ears
and spanks my back.
"I've called you several times. You didn't get up."
"What the hell do you want?" I wince, stroking my back. "Was it
your hand or your foot?"
"Pat's here."
"Huh?"
Wai narrows his eyes and gestures to the door. I follow his
gaze and see the guy in mention hiding behind the entrance. He
cranes his neck and gives me a smile. I straighten up and press my
lips together, sensing how different his smile is. I feel a twinge in my
chest, too anxious to lie to myself. I exhale and whisper to my friend.
"Be right back…"
I pretend to go to the restroom and drag the guy from the
different faculty to a blind spot by the stairs.
"What are you doing here? It's during class. You'll get in trouble
if someone spots you."
"Everyone knows you and I stopped fighting."
"Not everyone knows that. You even wear your workshop shirt.
The professors might come to you."
"I wanted to see you."
His dejected expression as he mutters those words stops me
short. I smile, giving up nagging. "Really."
"Seeing you smile like this, I don't mind getting lectured for
three days."
"You're exaggerating."
"Pran…"
"Hmm?"
"I'm sorry I didn't contact you. My mom's been keeping an eye
on me. She's started eavesdropping recently. Some days, she even
took my phone."
"It's all right. Par texted me. And I'm not mad at you."
"But I'm mad."
"Why?"
"I'm mad at everything that prevents me from hearing your
voice, from being with you, from cuddling you to sleep."
"…"
"From seeing you blush and frown like this."
"Did you take the wrong pill or something?" I brush his hand
away when he touches my cheek. "You're acting weird." My face
feels hot at the pressure of his fingertips.
"I took no pills. That's why I feel sick. When will I get to take my
pill?"
"Pat."
"I'm going to die."
 "Still joking." I fail to stifle my smile, feeling a little better as he
can still make jokes. I've been worried for days because he was
horribly downcast. Why is he looking me at like that, by the way?
"What are you looking at?"
"My boyfriend. It's been days since I got to see you. Let me
gawk at you. You won't be stained by my stare."
"What a pain."
"What? I talk sweetly and you tell me off. I tease you and you
tell me off. So hard to please."
"Go back to your class already."
"I won't. I'll be with you."
"Don't be ridiculous, Pat."
"I have to hit home right after classes. I won't get to see you
then."
"Pat, we're in the uni."
"Just one kiss."
This sick, wild dog leans closer and puckers his lips, which
doesn't suit his face at all. I keep my lips shut, not letting him touch
me as desire, yet the guy before me doesn't give up. He steps close,
locks my gaze, and whimpers a little. My brow furrows. I avert my
eyes, trying to ignore his mewl in my ears. Finally, I yield. I press my
lips on his for a brief moment and withdraw.
"There you go. Happy now?"
Pat raises his eyebrow, unable to hide his smirk. I start to blush
now. "No, but it's enough for now," he whispers hoarsely and pulls
back. I step back immediately and look around, worried that
someone might see us. "I'm leaving."
"Okay. Let's talk later."
Pat nods and blows a kiss at me, then he descends the stairs
slowly. My eyes trail after him, and he turns around to wave his
hand. I wait until he's gone and return to the lecture room. My
annoying friends ask me teasingly if I went out to poop, but I don't
care.
After our sudden rendezvous, Pat texted me once in a while.
He kept it simple, only asking what I was doing, and Par would chat
with me on his behalf when he couldn't do it himself. They must be
keeping an eye on him strictly. The thought bothers me. The guy
who loves freedom like him must feel suffocated being grounded.
Besides…one of the reasons Pat chose to move out is he was
concerned about my workload and transportation. After all, it was
either him or me. And I was mad at myself for being so useless.
"Thank you," I say and hand the money to the driver of the
green taxi parked in front of my house. I get out of the car and sneak
a glance at the other house while heading inside mine. I didn't tell
Pat I was going home since he hadn't replied to my text last night.
"I'm home."
I greet my dad, who's reading a book on the couch. He eyes
me and returns his gaze to the book. We haven't talked much since
that day, so the air around us has been tense.
"Oh, you're home, Pran." Mom's voice comes from the kitchen
before she appears. "Have you eaten?"
"Yes."
"Put your stuff in your room and come down to have some
fruits."
"Okay…"
My response is plain. Dad and Mom no longer look or speak
another word with me. It feels awkward standing here, and I'm
uncomfortable starting a conversation. I've never been in this kind of
situation. Now that I think about it, I've never fought with my parents
about that family before. This is going to be tough.
I check my phone once I've changed my clothes. Pat still
doesn't respond nor read my text. His mom probably took his phone.
There's no one in sight when I peek at the other house, so I walk out
to the balcony. I land my eyes on the wall separating our places,
deep in thoughts. Isn't it weird? Two families loathe one another
despite using the same wall. It's even weirder that Pat and I have
feelings for each other. Why do we have to be attached to each
other? Things would've been easier if we'd felt the same hatred our
parents harbor.
I stand there, enjoying the evening breeze and the view of the
birds and the sky. A brand new white Audi soon pulls over into the
other house's front yard. I watch in curiosity until Pat gets out of the
driver's seat. His dad went as far as to buy him an Audi in exchange
for him staying home and cutting ties with me.
My eyebrow twitches, spotting someone else in the car. My
heart clenches as it is a girl, apparently. Pat never had a female
friend nor invited one home before.
It wouldn't bother me too much if Pat didn't open the door for
her and wait for the girl in a sweet–color dress to step out. My legs
feel heavy as they chat and smile at each other. Maybe it's because
I'm too far away from them to read the meanings of the gaze and
smile of the one I call my boyfriend.
Nevertheless, the fact that he took her to his place is solid.
I gasp when Pat notices me. Our eyes meet, but I can't see
clearly. It seems to me that he's in shock. Pat fidgets as if he wants
to say something. The girl taps his shoulder and gestures to his
house. With no second thought, I spin, get inside my room, and slam
the balcony door shut.
The room falls into silence after a resounding bang. I lean
against the wall in confusion, unable to process what I just saw.
What the hell is going on? Why didn't I know a single thing about
this? Is this the reason why Pat seemed to have a lot in his mind
lately? My head is overwhelmed with negative possibilities. I start to
believe he hasn't contacted me for days because of the girl.
What should I feel now? What should I believe?
 | SCENE TWENTY–TWO |
Pat | talk

Fuck!
I'm fucking fucked. What would be more disastrous than your
boyfriend finding out you brought a girl home? I freeze, my face
paling, my heart dropping. Pran must've seen everything since he
went back inside once our eyes met. Thousands of words are stuck
in my throat. To him, it all leads to that one conclusion because I've
been busy pleasing my family for the past few days that I had no
time to bother him.
Fucking cheesy. Who would've thought a twenty–two–year–old
guy would be on a tight leash by his family?
Not only they forbade me to hang out with Pran, but they also
ordered me to have meals and watch movies with Par's childhood
friend almost every day. They believed that I wouldn't have time to
think of reuniting with a terrible friend like Pran this way.
"Oh, Punch is here just in time. I'm making a dessert. Have you
ever tried homemade sweet water chestnuts?"
My mom is all happy right now. She's an absolute housewife.
Since our family owns a company, and my dad runs it by himself,
she's got a plenty of time. Therefore, she spends all of her time
organizing our place, making desserts, and preparing our meals. We
once hired someone to take care of the house, but my mom was
dissatisfied. In the end, she dealt with everything in our place like a
perfect angel of the house. I'm not surprised she's fond of Punch, an
incredibly well–mannered girl.
"Before my father passed away, I made it with my mother very
often. He loved it."
I sigh. She's so soft and gentle that my touch might break her
apart. We're not compatible. Mom now drags Punch to the kitchen to
do some housewife things, so I head to the living room with my
restless heart. I sink into the couch and tousle my hair in frustration.
Goddamnit!
"What's the matter, Pat?" Par asks.
"Pran saw Punch."
"And?"
"And? Pran never got to sit in the passenger seat in my car," I
whisper through gritted teeth. Of course, others might see all that as
a commom treatment, a boy should give to a girl. Punch could just
be anyone to me in their eyes. But, this is Pran we're talking about.
He knows I'd never treat anyone like that if they weren't special. I
mean, I opened the car door for her and all. Could I have avoided
that? Come on, my mom would nag at me for a whole night if I didn't
do it.
Why is life so hard?
"Where's Punch?"
"Helping Mom in the kitchen."
"I'm hungry," my sister grumbles and sits down next to me. "Did
you give Pran a call?"
"No. I don't know what to say."
"Where did you go with Punch this morning?"
"We went to the temple to make merit and give offerings."
Par stifles her laughter, knowing those aren't my typical
activities. "Come on, just keep pleasing Mom until she stops fussing
over you. When she's assured that you behave the way she wants,
she'll probably let you go on with your life. Well, you did get caught
so many times in a row."
"You're right," I agree, heaving a sigh. "But I guess I have to tell
Pran about Punch."
"Yeah. It might not be as bad as you think," Par says sweetly
and massages my shoulders to show her support.
Our lunch looks so fancy like Thai royal food, yet anxiety
makes me lose my appetite. I pick at the enormous pile of food
Punch put on my plate, pondering what to do with my relationship
with Pran.
 "The food isn't to your liking?" Punch asks me. She helped my
mom make most of the food here. She's timid and speaks very softly
with a sweet voice. I have to listen carefully when she says
something. I assume she's a shy girl from a strict family.
"Not hungry."
"Pat, speak more nicely to her."
I eye my future fianc้e and exhale. I don't hate her, but
everything just feels forced. I've always been a blunt and
straightforward guy. It's uncomfortable when I'm told to act like a
gentleman.
"It's okay. Please be yourself, Pat."
"Look, how kind of her." Mom is ready to give me a long
lecture. To prevent that, I cut her short in a sugary voice.
"I normally skipped breakfast. Since I had a meal this morning,
my stomach doesn't have room for lunch."
"That's not good. Breakfast is the most important meal."
I nod, stopping myself from telling her that the sun was usually
already right above my head by the time I woke up. I end the
conversation by stuffing food in my mouth. Everything seems ideal to
everyone here. I'm the only one suffocating. Par glances at me every
now and then to check if my patience will run out soon.
In the late afternoon, when it's not too bright or windy, my dad
suggests that I should go for a walk in the backyard with Punch.
There is a small garden tended to by a gardener once a day with a
clean, age–old, white pavilion located in the middle. Par loved it here
when she was a kid. She would collect Dad's flowers to play with,
pretending to be a shopkeeper.
"It's been a while. It reminds me of when we were young."
Punch starts a conversation, strolling on the laterite pathway. I
mumble a response in my throat. Every memory in my past has Pran
in it.
"You've grown up to be pretty solemn, Pat."
"Not that much."
"I remember you were so kind when we were kids. You played
shopkeepers with Par and me, using leaves as money."
"If I didn't play along, Par would scream."
 "You love Par so much that I sometimes envy that she has
such a nice brother."
If Punch knew of all the hard times I put Par in, she would take
back her words instantly. I sigh and settle on the bench that has
been unused for a long time.
"I like your house. It's cool and pleasant."
"My dad takes care of the backyard. He also chose the
gardener to work in our house himself."
"Your parents are very kind. My mom is scary." Punch smiles
amiably. She's a naturally pretty girl. As Mom said, I could end up
falling in love with this old friend. If I never knew Pran, that is.
What can I do? It's impossible to turn back time. Even if I could,
I wouldn't be able to pinpoint the exact time I should restart.
When I didn't love Pran this much, I suppose.
"Are you okay? You've sighed a lot."
"It's a stomachache." More like a strange heaviness in my
tummy. I can't breathe properly due to stress about a certain
someone. "Punch, I need to hit the toilet. You can stay here or chat
with Par inside. It could take long."
I turn around and jog back inside the house. Once I'm upstairs,
I open my bedroom door, grab my phone, and call the person in my
mind immediately. Pran picks up after a long while. I clench my grip
around my phone as I wait for him to speak. He can yell or shoot as
many questions as he wants. But what I get is a soft mumble.
[Um.]
"Pran…"
I wish I could pour out all the words in my chest. I'm not the
only one feeling uncomfortable with the whole situation. Pran was
obviously torn whether to answer the call or not. Now that we're both
on the phone, we remain silent, knowing our relationship is slowly in
tatters. Pran asks nothing, supposedly waiting for me to confess.
"Pran."
[Yes?]
I don't like his cold voice and distant word. It sounds like the old
Pran, but we know something is different. I press my lips tightly,
seeking the right words to put him at ease.
 All because I care about him more than anyone.
"Pran."
[If you're just going to say my name, I'm hanging up.]
"Wait," He's giving me a chance, the last chance before he
won't hear another word from me anymore. "Open the door. I'm
going there."
[Pat! In broad daylight?]
"I need to talk to you."
[We are talking.]
"No." I don't want my words to be just an excuse of a mindless
guy. Everything I'm going to say will only feel real when it's conveyed
directly to another person.
Plus…I miss him like crazy.
"Pran, I'm hanging up now. Keep the balcony door open."
I end the call, not waiting for his permission. From here, I tiptop
over the roof for a short distance and reach the wall. I use my skill to
lift myself onto the rooftop of his kitchen, then I climb over the
balcony of Pran's room. This must be an absolute secret. If my
parents find out, I will have to switch rooms with Par.
Pran glowers when I show up at the balcony with my bare feet.
When I land on the floor without making a sound, he relaxes. He
crosses his arms over his chest and paces away to sit on his desk
chair, and I take the liberty to plop myself on his clean bed.
"So?"
"Do you remember Punch?"
"No."
"She often came to my house to play with Par when we were
young." He must've seen her but didn't care much. Even I, the house
owner, didn't care. "The girl you saw."
"Can Par drive?"
"Yes. Why? My dad bought the car for both of us."
"Then why were you the one picking up Par's friend? Not that
you can't do it. It's just…" Pran pauses. "…unlikely of you."
Pran knows me better than anyone. I sigh heavily. I never
meant to lie to him. I just didn't know how to bring it up without
hurting his already hurt feelings. That's why I kept it from him.
 Apparently, it was an undoubtedly wrong call.
Sooner or later, Pran will find out anyway.
"Her family runs a consulting business. She's an only child and
studies accounting in Chiang Mai. She finished her exams and got
back here. She's in the same year as us."
"And?"
"My parents and her mom want us to get to know each other."
"They want to pair you with her?"
His eyes flicker. They're locked on my face before turning
away. I sigh again, my chest about to burst. I still can't find a solution.
And as time passes, it feels like I'm lost in a maze.
"She seems pretty from afar."
"She is."
"Do you like her?"
"Pran, don't ask like you don't know how I feel."
I pull the desk chair he's sitting on towards me and cup his face
to look into his eyes. "You know who I like."
"I don't know. I'm not sure sometimes."
"You think it's going to be like that time with Nat."
"I don't want to bring up the past. But you have no problems
dating girls. Actually, that kind of relationship sounds more possible."
"It's up to our hearts to make it possible or not. Pran, I never
have eyes for anyone but you. I did that because of us, and I'm sorry.
I just can't find the way out yet, but I promise I will solve this
problem."
"Pat, are you an obedient son? I don't know. You can oppose
them. You don't have to open the car door or take care of that girl.
You did all of that, from what I saw. You only do those things to the
person you like, the one you want to do it for."
"You know me so well."
Should I be happy or sad that Pran always sees through me?
Well, I understand his exasperation. If it were me, I would destroy
whoever makes a pass at Pran.
"Forget it. I probably talked too much."
"Pran, you have every right to be jealous. Just hear me out."
"I'm not jealous!"
 "Pran, listen to me!" I squeeze his hands and stare into his
light–colored eyes sternly. Pran feels unstable. Our relationship is a
skyscraper without friction piles. No confidence nor safety.
"I have to please my mom to put her mind at ease. That way,
she won't show up at the uni. We can still see each other there, you
know."
We don't have that much time left. I hate myself for not
realizing my feelings sooner. I've taken four university years for
granted. I keep my gaze on Pran's face, my eyes burning.
Uneasiness eats away at me as I'm afraid he would dismiss my
explanation. The possibility that Pran might feel disheartened and
give up on our relationship gives me anxiety.
"I'm not a playboy. You know that. I don't really care about
girls."
"Pat, I know. But what do you plan to do?"
"I will solve this."
Even though it sounds hopeless, I refuse to back off. I loosen
my grips and massage the back of his hands instead, begging him
with all my sincerity.
"Trust me."
"One more thing." Pran takes a deep breath. He now seems to
be convinced that I won't cheat yet still bothered by something. I wait
quietly for him to speak, which he does eventually. "If I didn't see you
two today, would you tell me?"
A simple question. But I have no answer. I go still and avert my
eyes. Pran yanks my shoulder and forces the answer out of me with
his pressuring glare.
"I'm asking you."
I don't have the guts to look at him because I planned to keep it
hidden from him until the end. Pran would definitely dislike the truth,
but I won't lie.
"Isn't it our problem, Pat?"
"I can deal with it."
"If you could, you wouldn't wait until you got caught."
"Things like this take time. Do you seriously think I'd marry
someone else?"
 "How can I know what you're thinking?" Pran licks his lips. The
mobile by the window jingles in the wind, but our hearts are burning
to a crisp. "What do you take me for? Do I have to hide behind your
back and let you solve everything by yourself?"
"My mom is the problem. How can you help me with that? It's
tiring enough dealing with your own parents. I don't want to trouble
you with more problems."
"Aren't we supposed to solve the problem together to call
ourselves lovers?"
I say no more, unable to answer the question. The truth is, I'm
afraid he won't get my point.
"I'm sorry."
"I'm fucking sick of your apologies."
"What do you want me to do?" I sigh and place my forehead on
his lap with my arms around his waist. I knew he'd be mad at me
sooner or later.
"Where is she right now?"
"I don't know. You think I'd care?"
"Go back to her."
"Stop being upset first."
Pran exhales. When I look up, he nods. "Leave already. My
mom will be in the kitchen in the evening. It'll be hard to climb back
by then."
I kiss his knuckles, missing his scent. All those days we spent
together run through my mind.
If possible, I'd be with him every second, not letting him out of
my sight.
"I miss you so much, Pran."
Pran is completely still, not responding right away. My phone
vibrates in my pocket, and he gestures to me to pick up the call.
"What is it, Par?"
[Where are you? Mom's looking for you. She wants you to drive
Punch home.]
"Can you do it? Tell Mom I have diarrhea."
[Where are you?]
"Pran's room."
 I reply levelly, and Par just gives me an 'um.' [You really did it,
huh? I'll give Punch a lift. Just hurry and come back. Mom will check
on you when I offer to drive her home.]
I note it and hang up, then I release Pran's hand despite
myself.
"I'm leaving."
"Um, be careful."
"Pran." He raises his eyes at me, as cold as ever. "I love you."
I wish my feelings would melt the ice of bitterness in his heart.
Pran nods, not returning those endearing words. He watches me by
the window until I reach my bedroom.
We hold each other's gazes from the opposite sides of the
houses, with a wall and a few yards between us. I hope the wall is
the only thing keeping us apart.
Not our love tiptoeing on a skyscraper that's ready to be
knocked down by the gentlest wind.
 | SCENE TWENTY–THREE |
Pran | talk

'They want to pair you with her?'

The question I spit out of my mouth still echoes in my head. It
feels terrible even though I was the one saying it. For countless
times, I've sat down and wondered when we developed these
forbidden feelings towards each other. Pat is just a typical guy who
can date girls without a problem. So am I. When did we start longing
for each other's touch? Is it too late to step back to when things were
easier?
The image of Pat opening the car door for that girl is still vivid
in my mind. His smile and the way they looked so good together.
We're in a world where it's considered normal for girls to be with
boys. No one needs to tell me we're not meant to be.
The phone on my bed rings, fortunately. All those thoughts
vanish before I can lose my mind.
Seeing the name on the screen, I put my finger on the pick–up
icon. "Hey, Wai."
[Hello, Mister. Are you home today?]
"Of course, I am. I just got back. Where could I go?"
[Great. I came to your neighborhood to run an errand and
thought I'd stop by. Are you busy?]
"I'm about to slap mosquitoes to kill time. Just come."
[All right. I'll buy some fried chicken. I fucking crave it.]
"Okay, okay."
[See you.]
Wai hangs up immediately after that. I laugh softly at how
carefree he is. It's a good idea to quit overthinking. The habit of
imagining thousands of worst situations when I have problems is
hard to break.
 Knock, knock.
"I'm coming in, Pran."
Mom's voice follows the knocks. She opens the door after I
answered, carrying a plate of bite–sized fruits.
"You've taken long, so I thought I'd bring this to you."
I thank her and take the plate. It's still awkward between us.
We don't make eye contact, and I don't have the nerves to look up at
her.
"Pran," Mom starts.
"Yes?"
"Don't be mad at your dad for what happened. He was a bit
hot–headed. He didn't mean to yell at you."
"It's all right. Is he downstairs?"
"He just drove out. He'll come back in the early evening."
"I see," I mutter, not saying anything more. I smiled throughout
the conversation, though it didn't reach my eyes. Noticing it, Mom
reaches out to squeeze my shoulder gently and leaves.
After a few bites of the fruits, Wai calls me again. Knowing he's
waiting in front of my house, I hang up, leave my phone on the bed,
and carry the plate of fruits downstairs. Wai is chatting with my mom.
He turns to smile at me with a huge plastic bag of fried chicken. His
gluttony puts a grin on my face. We transfer the food to bowls and
plates and wolf down everything.
After the hearty meal, we watch the TV in the living room until
five when the sky starts changing the colors. We go out and hang
out on the bench in the backyard, bringing snacks stored in the
cabinets since forever with us. I quietly wonder if our stomachs can
take it. But when we open the snacks, I keep putting them in my
mouth.
We just talk leisurely as the snacks are emptied. Our laughter
gradually fades after an hour–long noisy chat. I can't deny the fact
that my friend is reliable whenever I have problems.
"Pran."
"Hmm?"
"Still not make up with Pat?"
 His sudden question halts me. As I meet his gaze, I realize he's
been waiting for the right time to bring it up. "What do you mean?"
"Don't play dumb."
I sigh, feeling too tired to pretend everything is okay. "Um…It's
difficult this time."
"You finally opened up. Did you think I was so stupid that I
couldn't even listen to my friend's problem?"
"I never said that."
"Your action sure spoke louder."
"Come on, I didn't know where to start."
"Just start somewhere."
I emit a long exhale and place my hands on the bench as I lean
backward. "As you know, our families aren't on good terms."
"Right. Hasn't it always been like that? Why's it bothering you
now?"
"Because things aren't the same anymore."
"Oh, you mean you two used to be friends, but now you fuck."
"You bastard."
"Just kidding." He changes his tone, receiving my stern answer,
and eyes me in discontentment. "What happened?"
"Well, our parents found out we lived in the same condo and
made a huge fuss. Pat had to move out and go home."
"Shit, it's like a soap opera. Are you Romeo and Juliet? Wait! It
should be Romeo and Romeo, right?" Wai teases, and I smack him
hard on the back.
"Quiet down. Do you want my mom to hear us?!"
Wai quickly apologizes and softens his voice. "Right, sorry. Go
on."
"There's nothing much. I fought with my parents, and he fought
with his. Unfinished business."
"It started long ago. You can't just solve everything in the blink
of an eye."
"I know," I sigh and look away, bummed. "The problem is his
parents are trying to pair him with a girl."
Wai slaps his knee, startling me. "I knew it."
"What the hell? You scared me."
 "Is she pretty? Did you see her? Do I know her?"
"She's pretty. I caught a glimpse of her today. I don't think you
know her."
"So what? Are you going to give up?"
I remain silent, not knowing what to say. It's an easy question,
but I still don't understand my own thought. It's too complicated to
find a word to describe my feelings.
"Are you worried about the adults or Pat himself?"
"What do you mean?"
"You think he'll go back to dating girls, don't you?"
"…" Damn…
"Let me guess. When you saw him with the girl, you thought
that was how things are supposed to be, right?" This damn mind
reader goes on, looking like he knows everything while munching on
chips. But his words hit the bull's–eyes and shut me up.
Because part of me really believes so.
'Engr's Gang Leader 2m
Missed Calls (11)'
I glance at my phone. It just stopped vibrating again after
several calls. I was next to my phone the whole time, so it's not that I
couldn't hear it or pick it up in time. I'm not ready to continue our
conversation. I don't want to talk when I'm in a bad mood or have
something in mind. I might let my emotions take over and end up
hurting both of us.
I watch the screen displaying missed calls and get lost in
thoughts. The weird name I saved cracked me up every time. I used
to set it as a simple 'P' to avoid problems if my friends or parents
saw it. But when our relationship changed and he was shameless
enough to reveal it to my friends, he reset his name on my phone.
'Handsome Pat, Fragrant's Dad, Pran's Lovebird' was too long and
unbearably stupid. It annoyed the hell out of me, so I changed it.
It's hilarious, but I don't feel like smiling at all.
Knock…
I pause and frown. What a familiar sound. Or am I hearing
things?
Knock…
 I facepalm. Don't tell me…
FWIP!
I spring up and yank the curtain open. I want to cuss at myself
for having good ears and hunch. This mad dog climbed to my
balcony again. I scowl and open my mouth, but Pat puts his finger
over his lips as a signal for me to shut up and unlock the door. I
heave a sigh in exasperation and slide the glass door as silently as
possible. Pat steps inside before I close the door and draw the
curtain close.
"What are you think…!"
Before I can finish, the troublemaker pulls me into a hug.
"Don't be mad."
"How can I not? What are you thinking?!"
"What could I think of? Wai came to hang out with you all day
that you paid no attention to me. I can't stand seeing you laugh with
someone else." Pat whines and kisses my temple. I lean back. "And
you didn't pick up my calls or read my texts."
"Can't you be patient? You can't stand even Wai, my friend. I
never said anything about your fianc้e."
"Don't call her my fianc้. I don't accept it."
"Your action said otherwise, though."
"Don't say that. You know how much I love you. I don't have
any more room in my heart for others."
"You're fucking self–willed."
"Only when it concerns you. Don't move. I miss you."
"Don't hug me. Let go."
"Stop hitting me. It hurts."
"Then let me go."
"It hurts more if I can't hug you when you're mad."
Jeez, how cheesy… "I'm gonna throw up."
"You got pregnant from an embrace?"
"Pat."
"Don't be mad." He releases me rapidly and gives me a
pleading look, then he holds my hand and leads me to sit on the bed
together. "Please stop being mad at me."
 "I'm not mad at you anymore," I say, avoiding eye contact. "I
just don't want to talk yet."
"Pran…"
Pat keeps whining. He caresses my hand and kisses it on the
back. I don't resist, acting unbothered.
"I'm sorry for hiding it from you. Please don't ignore me like
this."
"I said, I'm not mad. But how can I get over it, though?"
"I'll fix it. I won't let you take it all alone. I promise."
"Don't make a promise you're not sure if you can keep."
"I'll try. I'll do it. Trust me."
"…"
"Trust me, Pran."
"…When can I ever say no to you?"
Grasping the meaning of my words, Pat smiles widely and
gives me a tight hug. Good grief, he misbehaves because I always
spoil him.
"Tell me everything from now on. I'm not a weak guy you need
to protect and keep away from danger. We have to solve problems
together, or else my existence is useless."
"Got it, sir. But don't say things like that again. Your existence
means the world to me."
"…Next time, I won't care about you anymore."
"I promise."
I let him hug me, not drawing back. Instead, I put my weight on
him and place my hands on his back in a loose embrace. We say
nothing, drowning in each other's arms, breathing in the familiar
scents, and taking in the same feelings as we had when we were
together in the apartment.
"Happy now? Go back already."
"No," Pat moans, tightening his arms. "I'm staying over."
"Pat, come to your senses."
"I'm sleeping here with you. I'll set the alarm at five in the
morning and climb back swiftly."
"Why would you do that? Just go back to your room."
"I want to cuddle you. It's been a while. Didn't you miss me?"
 "We can't take this crazy risk. This is my house. My parents are
in the next room. Do you want get to shot by my dad?"
"I'm in love with his son. That's part of the risk."
"Pat," I lower my voice and try to break out of his hug. He's still
joking, never taking things seriously.
"Please. I miss you."
"No."
"Please, Pran."
"I said, no."
I insist. Pat pulls back to look at me and flutters his eyelids to
beg me. What a painful sight. It's not cute at all. When will he rid this
false impression? But if I tell him honestly, he might lose confidence.
Come to think of it, it'll be better if he loses some of it.
"Pran…" And this cute (?) voice.
"Cut the cute act. No means no."
"Didn't you miss me at all? How cruel."
"I did…" I mumble. Pat wags his tail and leans in closer. "I did
think about what would happen if my parents found out. Things are
troublesome enough. Leave."
"Ugh, Pran."
"It's all for both of us."
"…All right. But come and sit here." He pats the space between
his legs. "Come here and soothe my longing."
I narrow my eyes, hesitating to do it since I don't know what
kind of trick he's going to pull. Pat is relentless and self–willed.
Anyhow, thinking of the way he broke a sweat sneakily climbing up
here, I'm soft. I indulge and sit down as asked.
In a split second, Pat holds me tight against his chest. His
warm lips brush my ears down to my neck, making me flinch. He
slips his hands under my shirt and fondles my abdomen.
"Pran."
"Um…"
"I missed you."
"I know. Hmm, don't suck on my neck. It'll leave marks."
"I missed you. I fucking missed your scent."
"Just sniff your Shabby."
 "Fragrant can never take your place."
Before I can answer, Pat touches my cheek and makes me
look at him. We hold each other's gazes, understanding the
implication of this action. He strokes my lips with his thumb and parts
them, and I let him do it. Something pulls us closer. Our faces move
until our lips are sealed. The soft touch on my lips makes its way into
my mouth. It licks my teeth before tangling with my tongue.
This kiss is slower than usual, not revealing emotions or
desires. It's like we're conveying how much we missed each other
through our tongues. I move mine accordingly to his movement. Our
kiss is tight like our hug, our breath mingling. It's getting hotter and
hotter when Pat tries to take off my shirt.
"Pat…Enough."
I pant and withdraw, trying to free my lips, but Pat won't have it.
He keeps biting and nibbling my lips. Now that I start gasping for air,
he lets me go and puts his forehead on mine. We close our eyes and
listen to each other's breathing.
My heart still races when Pat surprises me with his whisper.
"Pran…I want to do it," He says to my ears and pecks my neck
gently. "Let's have sex."
I spring back and slap his arm.
This damn dog knows nothing about time and place!
 | SCENE TWENTY–FOUR |
Pat | talk

Relationships are meant to progress. It might be a struggle and

unpredictable, but feelings change every day.
I feel it. I feel it so strongly that I can't control myself when I'm
with him.
"It hurts…Ouch…It hurts."
I ask for mercy in this small, square room. I bite my lips and
wince as the red liquid ointment seeps into my wound. That one
sentence triggered Pran to slap me real hard. And when I moved
closer to him, he kicked me off the bed. I failed to seize the chair
nearby in time and fell down. My elbow scratched the edge of the
bed and got wounded.
Par stares at my face and sighs as she wipes the excessive
liquid off my fresh wound. She fans it with a notebook so it won't
stain the sheet when I go to bed.
It's midnight. Par shakes her head tiredly the way she always
did back when my mouth ripped after several fights with Pran.
"You can never break the habit of getting yourself hurt, huh?"
"Who would have thought he'd kick me that hard?"
"What did you do to him?"
I want to explain everything, but we should keep the personal
stuff to ourselves. I can't just shout to the world that I've only been
able to masturbate up until now.
I heave a sigh.
If Gon knew, he'd call me a chicken for another ten lifetimes.
I don't have to care, though. The person I care about the most
is not ready. I can only accept it.
"I'm not putting on a bandage to air out the wound. Just be
careful. I'm going to bed now."
 "Yeah, thanks."
My sister puts away the first aid kit and leaves. I lie down on
my bed and look at the curtain of another person's room. The light is
still on. He probably has a hard time sleeping as well.
In the morning, I pretend to get exhausted from diarrhea. My
mom lets me go as a result, not forcing me to spend time with
Punch. Now I have more time to study for the rest of the exams, but
it's hard to concentrate. I usually went to the library with my friends
and the girls would tutor us. It's impossible to slip out, and Gon
complained about how the girls wouldn't tutor them if I didn't come.
I'm not sure if they need me there because I'm handsome or
because I can definitely decrease the mean score.
As soon as Gon knows I'm not grounded anymore, he drops by
and begs my parents to allow me to study with him. He promises that
he will take good care of me. Receiving some desserts as presents,
they treat Gon so nicely as if he's their other son. Their kids never
fawn on them, so these two elderlies easily fall into the trap of this
cunning devil.
"How could you stand it? It felt fucking suffocating."
What a damn devil. Listen to what he said after getting inside
the latest Audi model. Gon sighs and changes the radio channel. He
was flattering my parents just now.
"Your dad is no joke. He bought you an Audi to make you stay
at home. Amazing."
"He wants to separate Pran and me."
"Oh, so that's how it is. He lured you to go home with this car."
"Yeah," I answer, inevitably. "They even found me a girlfriend."
"Oh, did your wife know about this? Did he stab you in the
guts?"
"Pran knew. I tried to make up with him last night and he kicked
me. I scratched my elbow and my stomach bruised."
"He gets violent when jealous, huh?" Gon laughs. I don't want
to describe how Pran actually is when he's jealous. As for the cause
of these wounds? I let Gon think for himself.
The newest white Audi makes a turn into the parking lot
moments later. Gon calls the other guys to ask which floor they're
on, then we head into the library. Jor and the guys holler the second
I enter, making other people stare daggers at them. The library is
quieter than usual since we're in the exam period.
"Long time no see," Poom greets and tosses the extra
transcript to me. "We've studied a lot while you were gone."
"I only need 2.00 to graduate."
"Yeah, right. You're going to take over your family's business
anyway. You don't have to worry about grades."
The four–eyed nerd scoffs. I smack his head and get a glower
in response. "What are you upset about? Did you miss me or
something?"
"Why would I? I saw Pran at the uni many times. I wondered
why you two weren't together when your relationship was no longer
a secret."
"I moved back to my house," I reply roughly, too lazy to explain
my personal story. Pran had no problems going outside. At least he
could do it more freely than me. Well, my parents locked me up and
kept their eyes on me.
As Pran said, my parents really trusted me, so it was a blow to
them when something unexpected happened. And since the person
who caused the unexpected situation was their son, this damn
troublemaker, they've gotten more paranoid.
"Oh, the architecture guys are downstairs."
"Yeah? I'll be right back."
"Pat, you motherfucker! Come and study!"
Pran is studying with his friends on the first floor of the library.
When he spots me, he looks pained. But when I drag a chair over
and seat myself beside him without a care, he doesn't chase me
away as I thought.
"You can step out of your house now?"
"Yeah, Gon picked me up."
Pran mumbles a reply. Waiyakorn is next to him, smirking
annoyingly. "When's your exam coming up?"
"The day after tomorrow."
"Have you eaten?"
 "I just got back from the cafeteria, but I left home in the
morning. Won't you study for the exam?"
"I'll do it soon." I almost said I missed him. I don't want to say
things like that in front of others. I'd blush. I'm a shy person, you
know. "What time are you going home? Let's have dinner together."
"Where?"
"The cafeteria will do. It's close by."
Pran nods. It might be a short time, but it's enough. "How's
your wound?"
"It's far from my heart."
"You joke all the time."
I smile, happy that he's worried about me. Despite his cold
expression, Pran couldn't hide the worry in his voice. My eyes land
on his cheek, lips, and then neck. A small purple mark is visible. I left
it before getting kicked off the bed last night. It was worth it.
"I'll go and study now. On the second floor. Text me when
you're hungry."
Pran nods. Hearing his friends snicker, the gang leader glares
and frowns in aggravation. No one knows this but me: Pran scowls
when he blushes.
"Go."
"Don't forget to text me."
"Okay!"
"Study hard." I put my hand on his head, and his friends
whistle. Unable to contain his shyness, he vents it by flipping me off.
I laugh and retreat, ascending the stairs to study with my group
of friends.
Despite getting to spend quality time with Pran, my heart
withers the moment I've reached home. Gon has accompanied me,
fortunately, and he tells my parents we had a meal together so I can
skip the dinner with my family. I use the exam as an excuse for my
sour face. My mom croons and pampers me by bringing a cup of
warm milk to me in my room. She also tells me to sleep when it's
only eight.
The light in Pran's room is on by nine. It's not so often that I
watch his shadow from my bed. The dark shadow takes off the
clothes and spreads the towel. I guess he's going to take a shower
after being out all day.
My desire to make him mine is getting stronger. I dreamt about
him numerous times and frequently masturbated while imagining his
face in secret as therapy. After we touched each other that one time,
my desire is burning like lava boiling in the ocean.
I sigh. My wish to hold him is so overwhelming that I climb over
to his balcony without thinking. Once Pran comes back from the
shower, I knock on the glass door. Drops of water glisten on his skin.
He only covers his lower body in a clean, white towel.
"Again? Aren't you scared of death at all?" Pran grumbles,
vexed, but still opens the door. He allows me to sit on his bed while
he walks back and forth before the closet in annoyance.
"Don't do it too often."
"I wanted to see you."
"We saw each other today."
"It's not the same. I couldn't hug you."
I get up and fling my arms around his waist. Pran acts like he
doesn't love me even though he does. I can tell from his heartbeat
when I touch him.
"Pat, let me dress up first."
"Your hair's still wet. I'll dry it for you, or your shirt will be wet
too."
I take the small towel on his shoulder and rub it on his raven
hair. Pran's head shakes. I have fun rocking his head until he strikes
my stomach with his knee.
"Are you having fun?"
"Ugh, it hit the old bruise."
Pran lifts my shirt up in shock. The bruise is still vivid, troubling
the attacker. "Did you treat it?"
"I did last night."
"What about today?"
"Par stayed over at her friend's. No one was there to do it for
me."
"Can't you just do it yourself?" Pran nags but still gets the
ointment in the drawer and squeezes some on his hand. He pushes
me down on his bed and applies the cool gel on my tummy, near the
bruised area around my navel. His warm, soft fingers circle on my
abdomen slowly and gently. Seeing his worried face from this angle
gives me butterflies. My skin heats up under his touch, and
something lower heats up even more strongly.
Sensing my silence and body's reaction, Pran smirks. I'm at a
disadvantage in this position. When he leans down and gives me a
soft kiss on the mouth, all my energy vanishes. The smell of soap
from Pran's body fills my nose. We kiss with no rush, then it gets
more intense as our feelings reveal themselves. The sounds of our
saliva, breath, and heartbeat mingle. Our overwhelming desire
bursts out. I'm lying still, letting Pran take the lead, and he seems to
enjoy it.
Pran pulls my shirt off from my head. My pants roll away to the
edge of the bed, and so does Pran's towel. Eventually, we're both
naked. When our eyes meet, we see the deep desire reflected in
them. Like the lit candles in the utterly dark night, it's tempting and
luring us into the inescapable cave.
Pran and I switch places on this large bed. We both know
instinctively that this time won't end the way it did before. This is not
some guy friends' jokes or amateurs helping each other out. Tonight,
everything will change.
"Pat!"
The room owner yelps when I flip his body one last time, slip
my arms under his knees, and use my knees to push his legs open. I
cover his lips with mine while grabbing the lubricant gel nearby to
apply on his entrance and my hard thing.
"Pran, you want it too."
"But…"
"Let's give it a try," I whisper, pressing my body against his. I
close my eyes and feel the hidden, soft part of his body with the gel.
I kiss Pran over and over again, tasting his lips down to his chin,
sniffing the sweat oozing out over his pulse. Before I know it, Pran
hits my back with his fists. My face distorts as I press down and
insert my thing inside until we become one. He loosens his fists to
dig his fingers in my back instead. Pran, on the receiving end,
doesn't make a single sound. He bites his lip and breathes rapidly.
I remove the strands of dripping hair from his forehead and put
my thumb into his mouth to part his lips. Tears trickle down his face. I
keep kissing his forehead and cheeks.
"Can you take it?"
"Give me a second."
"Okay." I take a deep breath and caress his naked body to
soothe him. I knead his nipples with my thumps before moving down
to the other place, trying to get him in the mood. His chest pops up
and down as he breathes.
"Pat," Pran's voice quivers. I'm still using my hand to arouse
him, and his body is constantly reacting. I could just do it my way, but
it's our first time taking a step forward. I want Pran to willingly give it
to me.
"Is it no good?" I ask softly, worried and aroused at the same
time. Pran shakes his head, but I don't know what it means. "Does it
hurt so much?"
"It hurts," he says. The cool gel is no use here. I weigh my
options, my part inside still rock hard. It responds even more actively
when the warm, soft body holds me in his arms.
"Do you want me to stop?" I ask. I might not be able to hold
myself back later on.
Pran shakes his head again, his eyes shut. "Move…You have
to move."
I look at his face. Pran isn't crying. The moment just now was
too much for him since it's the first time. He grabs my neck and
kisses me, breaking all the chains tethering my senses. I'm a wild
beast being set free, unleashing my desire to possess his body, his
heart, everything. My heart feels so full and flutters while I push in
more deeply, stressing with my action that I've explored every inch of
this body.
I hold his head as I start pounding so it won't hit the bedhead.
We can hear the sounds of our flesh bumping against one another
and the sheet moving. His pale skin under the light reddens from his
face to his neck. I savor his taste with my mouth and take in his
scent. Our unclothed bodies intertwine, filling the void in our hearts.
We change positions without rest. It's like we've been stolen by
darkness and left all the problems behind.
There are only us.
Just us.
"I love you, Pran."
I say in his ears, suppressing the satisfied moan in my throat to
avoid waking the others up. Pran does the same. He relieves his
aching feelings by sinking his teeth into my shoulder, but I don't
mind.
If I could make one wish in the starless night…
I'd wish this night would go on for an eternity.
 | SCENE TWENTY–FIVE |
Pran | talk

Hurts…
It's the only thing I'm feeling right now. I almost retreat and kick
Pat away for making me feel like my body is about to split into
halves. I want to escape from this torturing pain. But when I glance
up at the guy above me, at his sweating face full of emotions, at his
frustrated gaze staring at me, at his painful movement—not my kind
of pain but still—at his patience and effort to not succumb to his
desire, I grit my teeth. I can feel his concern for me through his voice
and touch.
"Do you want me to stop?"
Those words make me hold my breath, shake my head, and
speak with an embarrassingly quivering voice.
"Move…You have to move."
I hide my feelings by grasping his neck and give him a kiss. I
suck and grind his lips as much as I am embarrassed. We spend all
night focusing on each other's bodies. We shower each other with
touch and kisses and end up on the lips repeatedly. Pat embraces
me tightly and whispers the word of love in my ears, yet all I can do
is moaning his name.
I don't remember when the night ended nor recall the memory
in detail. I only know that my face and body were burning, and Pat's
sweaty, red face was the last thing I saw before the hours of
exhausting activity knocked me down.
"Ugh…"
I open my eyes because of the heaviness in my body. I shift
and wince with the pain in my lower half. Every part from my waist
down is aching like I have half–body paralysis. I turn to the cause of
this in exasperation. He's in a deep sleep with his arm and leg rested
on my body. Look at how relaxed he is. He must be happy, right?
How could I let it happen?
It was in the heat of the moment.
"Pat."
"Um, Pran…" He murmurs in a daze. I narrow my eyes,
contemplate for a moment, and smack the sleepyhead's shoulder.
SLAP!
"Ouch!" The victim gets startled and opens his eyes widely. He
blinks in confusion before returning my gaze and rubbing his
shoulder. He pouts. "It hurts. Why did you do that?"
"Are you hurt as much as me? You even rested your limbs on
me and made me uncomfortable."
"I wanted to cuddle."
"You treated me like a bolster."
"Come on…" Once he's done whining, his pouting face turns
sly. Pat puts on this untrustworthy smirk. I try to flee when he
scooches closer. "Did it hurt a lot?"
"Go away."
"I was so happy last night."
"Stop it."
"I really was happy."
"Shut up."
"Give me a hug."
"Didn't you have enough last night? My body's full of hickeys!"
"Who told you to have such a kissable body?"
I close my mouth, knowing this is a pointless argument. "…
Really." I cuss in my throat.
Pat laughs and successfully hugs me. If my body was in good
condition, he'd roll off the bed already.
"I love you," he says and puts his chin on my shoulder, rocking
me like a kid. It's not that romantic, but I guess it's not too bad.
"Um…"
"You never say you love me."
Hearing his sad voice, I raise my eyebrow and turn my head to
look at him. He even bends up and moves a little bit away from me.
"What?"
 "I said I loved you many times. I did it a thousand times last
night, but you never said it back."
"Why are you kicking up a fuss now?"
"Don't be cold to your husband."
"Pat."
"Yes?"
"Who's the husband here?"
"It was obvious last night," Pat says with a grin, not giving a
damn about my cranky mood.
"I might change the role for real."
"Aw, I was kidding," Pat quickly corrects and acts all obediently.
He comes back closer to give me a loving hug. "My Pran is the
cutest."
"…" I roll my eyes yet still lean against his chest. I let the wild
dog peck my neck and shoulder. I resist a little, but I don't tell him off
or anything.
"I really love you, Pran," Pat says, more serious than before
that I have to listen carefully. "I love you so much that I can't believe I
can love anyone this much. I can't go on without you. You know that,
right…?" He holds my hands and caresses them. "You love me a lot
as well, don't you?"
I sigh, not knowing why he's using that tone. Who's the one
supposed to be uncertain here? "…I let you do this much. Why are
you still asking?"
Pat snickers and tightens his arms around me. He kisses my
cheek with his warm lips and buries his nose in my shoulder.
"Thank you."
I say nothing, secretly smiling alone. I lean against Pat in his
embrace though my lower half still feels heavy. My cheeks burn at
the thought of last night. Even so, I can smile when I'm wrapped in
this warmth.
I close my eyes and take in this pleasant pain.
I just learned how painful sex between males is last night. The
worse thing is the prolonged aching pain. I clench my teeth so hard
they could break as I try to walk as normally as possible. I breathe in
and pray that I won't faint when I descend the stairs or when I'm on
the bumpy bus.
Does the person who caused this pain have any idea what kind
of suffering he put me through?
"What's wrong, Pran? You're sweating a lot. Is it hot?" Ke asks
after I made my way to sit as gently as possible next to him in the
cafeteria. I only force a smile and reply.
"Yeah, a little. I'm okay."
With that answer, Ke just nods and grabs Golf's glass of soda
to drink.
"It's weird now that we've submitted the paper. I mean, we're
suddenly graduates," Wai points out, drawing our attention.
"Isn't it great? Finally. I've been excited," Golf says and
exhales. "Half of my hair went grey."
"It's great, of course, but I feel a little sad. We won't get to meet
each other very often now."
"It's not like we're going somewhere far away. We're not going
abroad. We can always hang out from time to time," Ke explains,
pats Wai's shoulder, and gets up. "Let's get our food. Come on,
Golf."
"You go first. I'll go for a smoke for a minute. You want one,
Wai?"
"I don't care. Not in the mood," Wai replies. Ke is off to get his
food while Golf disappears behind the building with a box of
cigarettes and a lighter. The only guy left turns to me. "What about
you, Pran? Are you going to manage your family business after
graduation?"
"I'm not sure. I'm still thinking about getting a master's degree."
"You said you gave up on it."
"I want to reconsider it now that I'm a graduate. I want to study
more."
"What about Pat? How's he doing?"
"He has two last exams today as well."
"What about the future? Did you talk to him?"
"…No."
 "I guess you haven't dealt with the problem you told me the
other day."
"Yeah, what can I do, anyway? Our parents still hate each
other."
"So? Are you going to break up?"
"I never think of that."
Wai sighs and smiles before ruffling my hair. "It must be tough,
Young Master Pran."
"Young Master, my ass."
"Whoa, why so harsh?" He pretends to be offended, a cheeky
smirk still plastered on his face. "Anyway, wish you luck."
"Um…Thanks."
"You can tell me anything. Don't keep everything to yourself.
You might burst one day."
"As if you can help me."
"I may not, but I can listen, sir."
I scoff and shake my head at his playful voice. Wai looks like
he's just joking around, but I know he wants the best for me. "If I
have a big problem, I'll think of you after Pat. I promise."
"You trash. I'm almost touched. Your husband comes first,
huh?"
"You're going to be touched now, Wai, by my foot."
"Aw, just kidding. Don't lift up your foot, Pran. Calm down."
I laugh and put my foot back down. I look at my best friend's
face. Despite all the bad luck and terrible situations I've been
through, having them as my friends…is my best luck.
After the meal at the cafeteria, we're off to watch a movie
together. And when we come out of the theatre, we head to the bar
as our final destination. By the time we split and go home, it's almost
dawn. I narrow my eyes when I open the door to find Pat lying on my
bed with the AC turned on. Now that he can come over secretly, he
sure goes overboard.
FWIP! THUD!
"Ouch!" The guy who got dragged off the bed yells and springs
on his feet. "What the hell, Pran? What if I broke my neck?"
"Who allowed you to sleep in my room?"
 "I missed you. Why did you come back so late?"
"You're too spoiled."
"Why does it matter? Your parents are out of town, so I want to
spend time with you." I roll my eyes now that he switches on his cute
mode. He sits on the edge of my bed and pulls me in. He hugs me
loosely and gives me a bright smile, eyes sparkling. "I missed you."
"Why? We saw each other in the morning at the uni."
"How could that be enough? I have to hug you like this." He
plants me between his legs and holds me tightly. "And kiss your
cheek like this." Pat won't stop. He presses his nose in my cheek.
"And kiss your…Ah!"
Before this mad dog can bite my lips, I push his face backward.
"Pran, you're getting violent again."
"Because you keep taking advantage of me."
"Hugging and kissing my lover means taking advantage? Come
here right now."
"Are you nuts? Did you take the pill? Go back to your room."
Ignoring his whining, I wave him off, grab a towel, and go into
the bathroom indifferently. Around an hour later, I come back out and
that shameless punk is still playing on his phone on his belly on my
bed. I knew he wouldn't leave so easily.
"Why didn't you leave?"
"I won't. I'm staying over."
"This is too frequent, Pat. You know it's not safe."
"There's no one else home. It's fine. Your parents rarely went
out of town, so just let me stay. I'll climb back in the morning."
"And this climbing thing. What if you fall and break your neck?"
"Aha, you're worried."
"I prefer my house to be death–free."
"You're not admitting it."
"Leave."
"No. I've taken all my exams, and your paper was submitted
and approved. There's nothing to worry about. Give me a graduation
present, will you?"
"You're the kind of person who wants something in return,
huh?"
 "Of course, I want a lot from you."
Pat gets out of the bed and takes three long steps to embrace
me, using his old trick by begging me through his eyes.
"Pat, no."
"It's been several days since we did it…"
"Several days? We did it on Saturday."
"It's already Thursday. Don't you feel sorry for Pat Junior?"
"If you can't endure it for four or five days, just wither and die."
"No can do. If I wither and die, you'll cry."
"Let me be a top, then. Easy."
Pat's eyes widen. He looks around awkwardly. Now he's
scared? He had no problem doing me, overly delighted even.
"So?"
"Can't I do you…? Didn't I make you happy?"
Don't pull this trick on me. "I want to make you happy too."
"I'm happy just by hugging you."
Don't hug and kiss me like this, Pat!
"Hmm! Don't bite my ear."
"Please, Pran. I missed you so bad. Didn't you miss me?"
I turn away from his relentless, warm lips, but they still touch
my cheek, chin, neck, and collar bone. And I know my body and
heart can never resist him.
"Pran…"
I don't know how powerful love is. All I know is that when I am
touched and listen to his pleading voice, my cold heart melts. I sigh
and nod without a choice, letting the spoiled kid lead me to the bed.
Just another night with the burning heat on the mattress. It
goes on for almost an hour and ends with love whispers in my ears.
We hold each other, exchange our breath, and listen to our heartbeat
until we fall into a deep sleep.
The overflowing joy blinds me from the upcoming storm. I
forget everything and enjoy the time when it's only us two.
In the morning, a piercing shriek shocks me out of my sleep.
When I open my eyes, I want to shut them right away and hope that
the sight I saw was just the worst nightmare of this year. However,
no matter how hard I pray, reality won't change. When I force my
eyes open again, I still see my mom looking like she's just seen a
ghost. Her mouth opens and closes, then she screams.
 | SCENE TWENTY–SIX |
Pat | talk

The pungent smell of alcohol fills the air. A twinge of pain

spreads all over my lips and cheekbones. The area around my eyes
throbs from the repeated punches of a middle–aged man. I tried to
protect myself, not responding. Pran's dad was furious once he'd
heard his wife screaming and found the enemies' son putting on his
pants.
We were cuddling, naked. Everything felt like a dream in the
starkly dark night that lulled us to sleep and never wish to wake up.
When the morning came, the cruel reality was unavoidable.
I exhale as my mother sobs and breathes in the inhaler. My
dad stands next to her in silence, looking more menacing than ever.
Par is the only one treating my wounds and sneaks glances at them
anxiously.
"When did it happen, Pat?"
I raise my chin for my sister to inspect the bruises. I also lift my
arms so she can see the ones on the elbows. Par sighs and
squeezes the ointment on her fingertips. She rubs it carefully on my
skin.
"Why do you want to know?"
"Did I raise you wrong? Why did you mingle with that bastard
and commit something so shameful? You should be ashamed!"
"The person blinded by prejudice and knowing nothing of love
should be ashamed."
"Pat! You ungrateful son!"
My dad is about to snatch my collar, but my mom yanks the
hem of his shirt, still sobbing. This is the first time she cries because
of me.
"We love each other. It harms no one."
 "Your mom's weeping and you're saying it harms no one?"
"Are you crying because you're disgusted with your son?"
"Stop talking back and reflect on your wrongdoing."
"Are you so disappointed that I'm not being the son you want?!
I don't hate Pran like you hate Pakorn. I'm not fond of Punch like you
are, Mom. Are you disappointed that I'm a human with a heart and
feelings?!"
"Quit your frivolous act and come to your senses!"
"You're the one that has to come to your senses, Dad!"
"Enough!" Mom shouts. Dad and I are enraged. Right now,
when stress eats away at my heart, I'm worried about Pran. I keep
blaming myself a thousand times for being too reckless and selfish.
But if I could turn back time, I'd still hold Pran until the very last
minute.
Our relationship has always been bound to be revealed. It was
just a matter of time and how it'd happen.
"You're too harsh to your son. Pat just went off the track like
any young man."
Par steps back as Mom comes closer and takes my hands. Her
eyes and nose get all red, pouring guilt into my heart. I wipe her
tears with my fingers before getting on my knees, then I bow down
until my head touches her feet.
"Mom, I'm sorry, but I really love Pran."
"Pat…Don't speak nonsense. You're a man. How can you have
feelings for another man?"
"I mean what I said."
"Don't say that to me again. Are you trying to kill me?"
"I didn't mean for it to happen, but I fell in love with him. I love
him the way you love Dad. I love him the way a person loves another
person. Do you understand me?"
The middle–aged woman shakes her head. It's hard for her to
accept, yet I hope…that the one who loves me the most will
understand.
"I'll do everything except breaking up with Pran. I'll do whatever
you want."
"No, Pat. This is just young men's curiosity. You're not gay."
 "But I…"
"I can't accept this." The searing sensation in my chest spreads
up to my eyes. It burns and turns into droplets. My vision blurs. I roll
my eyes to one side to keep my tears from falling…But in the end,
the sadness in my heart trickles down.
"Do it for me, Pat. Think of the past as a nightmare."
"It's not a nightmare!"
"Napat! Don't act against me!" Her angry voice comes out in a
sob. I'm tormented. Mom is unhappy. Dad clenches his fists. We all
don't understand each other. "Sleep in the guest room tonight. Take
only your necessities and move everything to that room tomorrow.
I'm locking your room."
"Don't do this to me, Mom."
"I have to! I'm your mom, Pat! How can I let my son be like
this?!"
I press my lips together. Even my sister seems troubled. The
middle–aged woman takes a deep breath, pulling herself together,
but the person speaking is my infuriated dad.
"Take his phone too."
"I won't let you take it!"
"Par, get his phone." Par breathes in and holds her hand out to
me. She can't refuse Dad, and I can't take my anger out on my
sister.
"Calm down, Pat," she whispers loud enough for only both of
us to hear while taking my phone. My phone is now confiscated, and
my bedroom is no longer our bridge.
I feel like my heart is about to stop, like I'm slowly tortured to
death. I'm locked in a cage with parts of my body being cut off one
by one…
"From now on, don't go outside unless Punch accompanies
you."
"You know I'll never love her."
"You just don't try to love her," Dad says sternly as if his heart
never experiences real love.
"You know that love happens without forced efforts."
"Punch has no flaws. What stops you from loving her?"
 "I love someone else!"
"Why don't you understand that your stupid action is not love?!
We've lived longer than you, Pat. Why don't we know you're just
being rebellious?" He's still fumed with rage the way he was in the
past hour. His face is red and shows no sign of backing off. "I'll talk
to Duangkamon's family tomorrow. About the wedding."
"Dad!"
"After getting married, we'll see if you still won't forget the stinky
smell of the man you held!"
"This doesn't solve the problem, Dad."
"We'll see." His dark eyes flash, emphasizing the seriousness
in his voice. "I also want to know if Pakorn raised his son to be
someone else's mistress."
He walks away, leaving only the deep, ugly gush in my heart.
The only thing I can do once the order has been carried is
staring at the ceiling in the guest room early in the evening. At first
light, the light is still on. It's impossible to see Pran's face from here,
not even the roof of his house. To me, this is no different from prison.
I hear careful knocks on the door when the sunlight becomes
strong. I neither welcome nor turn down whoever it is, so that person
takes the liberty to get in. Par sits on the edge of the bed and sighs.
"Mom wants you to go down and have breakfast. We're going
to Punch's place at noon. We'll go to the mall at ten to buy some gifts
for Aunt Duang first."
"I'm not hungry."
"Pat, you haven't had anything for a day."
"I'm not hungry."
"Don't act out."
I give no response, my mind full of the person I cuddled with
last night. How is he now? How stress must he feel? Did he call me?
"Let me borrow your phone."
"If you agree to have a meal and be nice to Mom."
"You see how things are."
"It's the consequence you and Pran have always been aware
of when you decided to date." Par sighs again. "I'm not saying you're
wrong. But our families' condition has been like this from the very
start. You can't expect Dad and Mom to change for you. It'd still be
difficult even if it were a girl. Now they're taking two issues at the
same time: You're gay, and your lover is from their hated family."
"It's not fair."
"I'm on your side." Par rarely takes my side. If she says that, it
means she means it. "But you need to give them time. Just date
Punch and show them that your effort is fruitless. It's better than you
going against them like this."
"But Pran…"
"Being stubborn changes nothing, Pat."
I don't understand. Why is love so complicated?
"Will you call Pran?" I nod, and Par holds out her phone. "I
can't help you talk to Pran too often now because Dad might get
suspicious…And go down for breakfast."
I'm in a higher spirit now that I have this device in my hand. My
sister leaves, letting me have some alone time with Pran. When I call
his number, my heart races again. Pran picks up after a long while.
[Hey, Par.]
"It's me. My dad took my phone. How are you?"
[Are you hurt a lot?]
"No…Far from my heart." I laugh a little. But as my lips curl up,
my vision blurs with tears. I inhale and it comes out like a stifling sob.
Pran goes quiet. I only hear his repeated breathing, like he's crying.
"Pran, don't cry."
[I'm not crying.] His voice shakes despite that. I place my face
on my knees, weary, lost in a dead–end. This hopelessness is worse
than getting lost in a maze.
"What did your dad say?"
[The same old thing.]
"I'm sorry."
[Yeah, as you should.]
"I'm really sorry."
Pran says no more. We just listen to each other's breath as if
it's the only thing that soothes our pain.
It makes us feel like…the terrifying pain of these two dying
people eases up a bit.
 "I love you, Pran."
[Why do you keep saying that?]
"It's overflowing. I'll explode and die if I don't say it."
Pran laughs, though that doesn't mean he's happy. My desire
to take care of him and be closer to him intensifies. He feels so weak
that he fails to hide it. This is unlike the stubborn Pran I knew.
[Pat…Didn't you sleep in your room? It's been dark since last
night.]
"They made me move to the other room. My room's locked."
[I knew it, but I thought you just had to switch rooms with Par.]
"Yeah, it's worse than I thought."
[My house doesn't have a spare room, fortunately, so I still get
to see your balcony. Tell Par to open the curtains when she's
upstairs.]
"But I don't stay there anymore."
Pran turns silent. Although he doesn't say he misses me, I can
feel it. Every inch of my heart senses it, the invisible, untouchable,
and unhearable feeling.
"Pran, I'll find the way out."
[Um.]
"But my mom's taking me out to discuss the wedding today," I
whisper softly and even more softly as I go on. This must be
heartbreaking news to his already breaking heart, but I want him to
hear it from me directly. "I want to be the one telling you this. I'm
going to play along to gain their trust while we figure out the solution
together."
[Um.]
"Don't just say, 'Um.'"
[What do you want me to say?]
"Say you love me. It's better, right?" I ask him back, wishing he
would really say it. If I can't see his face, his voice uttering those
words will at least heal my heart. Pran scoffs, unyielding. "Pran."
[You're so demanding.]
"My best quality."
[I call it worst.] His voice sounds better now. So does mine.
[When are you leaving?]
 "Before noon."
[Then go, or your family will be suspicious.]
I murmur a response, not moving an inch as if hanging up is
too difficult. We stay like that for almost a minute. Pran also refuses
to end the call.
[Pat.]
"Yes?"
[You asked me to say I love you. If I just say, 'Um,' will you be
upset?]
"No." I grin the first smile in hours of dreadful suffering. "Thank
you, Pran."
For letting my heart know it has to keep beating for someone.
Punch's detached house in the center of the city is the largest
among others in that area. My childhood memories are fleeting, but I
visited Aunt Duang once or twice as a grownup. Today, Punch wears
a knee–length dress. She's carrying a tray of food to the table as her
mom ordered.
As the informal ceremony, we start by having a little chat with
the elders about the company and gifts. I've just learned that Punch
has been living with her mom alone. Consequently, her mom takes it
as her job to plan her daughter's future since she was a kid. Punch
has never been a rebellious kid, so I'm the only one here disagreeing
with the wedding, the topic during lunch.
"Pat already graduated. He will attend the commencement
ceremony in October," my mom points out and glances at me as she
mentions her son. Knowing a certain topic is about to be brought up,
I stay silent. The best way to control my emotions is to not express
them.
"It's going to be by the end of the year for Punch. Such a long
time. What's the date of Pat's ceremony, by the way? Punch can
help carry his stuff."
"No need to, Duang. Pat said he wouldn't attend the ceremony.
It's a hassle for him, all the rehearsals and the measurement for the
gown. I want him to do it so bad, but he won't listen. How stubborn."
"Kids are like that. Punch also planned to skip it. Travelling is
inconvenient because she chose to study in another province. I was
so anxious when I let her go."
"Punch is a good girl. There's nothing to worry about. By the
way, Punch, are you going to assist your mom after graduation?"
"I'll probably help her with accounting and stuff," she answers
in a polite tone, scooping food into each of our plates instead of the
maids, who are serving drinks to their guests. "That way, I'll get to
learn more about the work step by step. My mom's still strong."
"I wish to retire as soon as possible, but my shy daughter can
never scold anyone. It'd be great to have a son–in–law to help out."
"That's what I thought as well."
My mom smiles sweetly now that the other woman threw the
bait. I eye my supposed fianc้e occasionally. She's not shocked or
anything, so put together as if she already knew the purpose of this
meal.
"If you're okay with this, I suggest we consult the monks
tomorrow. Let's find the auspicious date for the wedding. What do
you say, Duang?"
"Oh my, what's the rush, Kaew?" Duangkamon giggles, not
really turning down the suggestion. "Are the kids ready, though?
They just got to see each other again."
"It's going to take months for preparations, Duang. I'm
impatient, and so is Nui. We don't know where else to find such a
good daughter–in–law. What do you think, Punch? Am I rushing
things?"
Having no say in the matter, I look at the girl's flushing face
across the table, then I keep my eyes on my white plate still full of
food.
"I'm okay with anything. It's all up to you."
If I were a bird, then I was one with broken wings.
If I were the sky, then I was one projected in a large, closed
dome.
I've spaced out since leaving Aunt Duang's place until we
reached home. My mind pictures some dark solution. There's no way
these two families will ever conciliate. If one family were fire, the
other would be water, impossible to be in harmony until the very last
breath.
 Par flops on my bed as usual and reaches out to squeeze my
shoulder. I talk less with my parents, words disappearing in my
throat. Now I don't even feel like talking to my sister, like my soul has
been permanently stolen.
"Take your time to think about you and Pran, Pat. Every
problem has solutions."
I close my eyes. Those pointless, painful, and uncomfortable
soothing words are useless. My head is stuck on the promise I made
with Pran that I will figure the way out, but I'm so impotent. I used to
think I was mighty, strong, powerful, wise, and capable of doing
anything I want.
I just realized today that my life has no freedom. It stings more
than getting wounded from the physical fights.
Even my heart can't be where it belongs.
It's two forty–five in the morning. Par has gone back to her
room. The schedule for tomorrow is I have to pick up Aunt Duang
and Punch at their place at eight. The monk, Aunt Duang respect, is
at the suburban temple, so it will take a while for us to reach there
before the forenoon meal. The wedding will happen. After pondering
it, I have to admit that this is inevitable. The next thing I do is packing
my clothes and necessities into a backpack. I have around a
hundred thousand in my bank account. If I withdraw it a little bit at a
time, I can rent a small room while finding a job. I might at least keep
Pran at my friend's house for a while.
As I think about what to do if my dad finds me, the fact that it's
better than getting stuck here with no way out pushes me to risk it.
My body begins to protest since I haven't slept for two days thinking
of our situation. I have a headache and feel nauseous because my
stomach has been empty for the same amount of time.
Even so, there's no turning back now.
From now on, everything will change.
The loneliness, sprouting from my family turning their backs on
me, hurts. But, the picture before my eyes right now is Pran, the
future, the person who understands me and will stay with me forever.
This may seem like a fantasy, but I can't force myself to marry
someone else and hurt Pran, who did nothing wrong.
 I still have two arms and two legs to carry myself out of here.
I'd rather take chances ahead than getting chained and
watching my heart tortured without doing anything.
The house is in dead silence as much as my heart feels calm
and determined. It takes a few moments to step as quietly as
possible out of the entrance door. From here, I see that the light is on
in Pran's room. If I climb up from where I stand or throw a rock to get
his attention, the others might wake up.
I unlock the gate, the last barrier, flee from my parent's strong
cage, and lock it. The next step is calling Pran to come out.
When the sun rises, he'll be the only one in my world.
And I will use all my strength to protect our love from whoever
tries to keep us apart.
 | SCENE TWENTY–SEVEN |
Pran | talk

The door of my room is slammed shut, shaking the ceiling. It

continues shaking frighteningly for a moment before everything turns
quiet. I pant in anger, my heart beating too fast that my chest hurts.
Thinking back to the recent conversation with my parents, my eyes
get teary.
SLAP!
My head flew back by the force of the hit. The person who
slapped my face shudders with rage, his eyes reddening with
brimming with tears. His sorrow and disappointment made me avert
my eyes. I knew the previous incident was unforgivable and
understood that my relationship with Pat was unacceptable for them,
whether it was now…or throughout my lifetime.
"Did I raise you wrong? How could you do that?!"
"…"
"Have you gone screwy mingling with that shameful brat? What
were you thinking, Pran?!!"
The more silent I was, the louder my dad got. I kept my eyes
tightly shut when their fury escalated to the point that I couldn't take
it. The air was tense as it'd never been before. While Dad yelled and
Mom couldn't stop crying on the couch, I realized that was the first
time a son like me made my mom cry that hard.
"Pat isn't a bad man, Dad."
"You have the nerves to say that to me right now?! You…"
"Darling!"
Mom jumped and yanked Dad's arm the moment he was going
to hit me again. Her tears kept trickling down her cheeks. I looked
away, unable to bear the sight.
 "Pran…" Mom's voice quivered as she held my hands. "I'm
begging you. Please cut ties with him and return to your old self…
Hic…Please be my good boy again."
"…I'm still me, Mom. Loving Pat or not, the person in front of
you is still your son."
"You're not going to break up with him, am I right?!" Dad cut in,
and Mom cried even harder.
"…"
"Are you sure about this? You think our families will join hands
because you perverted people date each other?!"
"Dad…"
"We'll see if I can't discipline you, Pran," Dad gritted his teeth,
glowering at me, showing no sign of compromising. His action made
me save my breath, then he continued. "Since you've graduated, I'll
send you to be with Pong in England."
"Dad!"
"I'll see to it as fast as possible. To hell with the
commencement ceremony. We'll see if I can't separate you two."
"It has nothing to do with this. Don't get two things mixed up,
Dad."
"I don't care! Why bother differentiating anything at this point?
Even if you kneeled and begged me, I'd do it anyway!"
Dad shouted, losing control. It was the first time I saw my dad
seething in that much anger. The more he talked, the louder he was.
The more I explained, the harder he yelled, as if the wrath is never–
ending. It must be the biggest mistake I made in my life that my
parents would never forgive or accept…
I've locked myself in my room since then. The door is bolted
tightly. I refuse to answer the knocks or any questions. I only rest in
my bed in a daze, head empty, with indescribable feelings. Pat's
smiley face in the morning after we woke up pops in my mind. The
warmth from his hand on my cheek felt so gentle, contrasting to his
careless behavior.
It's been a day since we heard each other's voices. Just
another day to be locked in a cage. I lie down and let tears fall down
and seep through my pillow. I cry just a little, but it eases up my
mind. When my phone vibrates in my pocket, I jump and quickly take
it out. Par's name displays on the screen. I pick up without thinking
much.
"Hey, Par."
[It's me. My dad took my phone. How are you?]
"Are you hurt a lot?"
[No…Far from my heart.] Pat acts unbothered and plays a joke
as usual, but his breath sounds so strange that I can't hold my tears.
My eyes start to brim with them again.
[Pran, don't cry.]
"I'm not crying." I fight the urge to stuff the blanket in my mouth
when my voice contradicts my words.
[What did your dad say?]
"The same old thing."
[I'm sorry.]
"Yeah, as you should."
[I'm really sorry.]
I go quiet, not saying another word. I listen to his apology and
close my eyes. I'm not mad or hold a grudge against him in the first
place. Everything happened from our love and longing for each
other. Our mutual feelings are nothing shameful, and I never regret
falling for him. Up until now, I still wish to destroy every wall that
keeps us apart. I don't want to care about other people's feelings
beside the person in the house next to mine.
Even though our hearts are attached, why is even meeting up
considered wrong in reality…?
[I love you, Pran.]
Pat says it softly yet clearly as if he's whispering in my ear. I
smile despite the tears rolling down my cheeks.
"Why do you keep saying that?"
[It's overflowing. I'll explode and die if I don't say it.]
I've always been jealous of his honest–to–the–core quality. If I
could speak my mind half as much as him, I wouldn't feel this
uncomfortable. Even so, my mouth won't utter the truth in my heart.
"Pat…Didn't you sleep in your room? It's been dark since last
night."
 [They made me move to the other room. My room's locked.]
I smile bitterly to myself. Although I could predict the answer, I
don't know why I asked it to hurt myself even more. I look through
the window, past the balcony, to the other balcony door with the
curtains drawn close, blocking everything inside. I miss him so much
that I say without thinking that he should tell Par to open the curtains
in his room.
[But I don't stay there anymore.]
Pat's reply feels like cold water slapping my face to wake me
up from my stupid dream. No matter how long I stare at the empty
room with its owner in my imagination overlapping, it fixes nothing.
The next topic is my boyfriend's wedding. His voice assures me
that he's serious about finding the way out of this. Both the person
who will get married soon and the one who can only sit here and
watch are just as distressed.
Pat tries his best to make me feel at ease, but it's still hard for
me to smile. Besides his resolution, one thing is clear: The
undeniable fact that our attempt and efforts are of fish out of the
water struggling to breath…for at least one more second.
I've locked myself in my room for over twenty–four hours, not
going out or allowing anyone to come in. In the evening, the
unlocking sound from the door makes me frown and get up. It's soon
pushed open for my resentful dad to enter.
"No use being rebellious."
He says curtly, no hint of worry, as if ordering his ward. Mom
carries a tray of food inside and places it silently. She gazes at me in
pain and leaves without a word. Dad stands there. He narrows his
eyes at me and shuts the door before throwing a long brown
envelope on the table.
"This is the document of the universities I'm sending you. I
contacted Pong yesterday. You're leaving in two weeks. I'll have
someone accompany you to get the visa."
"…"
The lengthy statement is not a question or declarative. It's an
order required to be followed. A son like me can only listen with my
eyes downcast, having no right to argue. The room is quiet when no
one speaks. Seconds later, Dad walks out of my room. I eye the
envelope and have a lump in my throat.
I lie back down on my bed and stare at the white ceiling, not
eating the food though I'm ravenous. Even if I don't want to eat, my
body needs it. I press my lips together, recalling the time Pat and I
were in my apartment. Pat would open the door with a smile and go
right to my lap, asking me to do this and that for him. I miss the
feeling when we cuddled and fell asleep on the bed. It's something
ordinary yet never fails to make me smile. With that thought, I keep
asking myself.
How come we reached this point?
I want to go back to that time…
The phone on the nightstand vibrates again in the middle of the
night. Getting woken up, I grimace, rub my eyes, and reach for it. I
frown when it shows an unknown number.
I hesitate. When the line is about to be cut off, I decide to pick
up.
"Hello…"
[Pran.]
I recognize the familiar voice immediately and also hear cars
passing by from afar. I spring up and turn on the bed lamp. "Pat?
Where did you call me from?"
[I'm on the main street.]
"What are you doing there?" I ask with a serious voice and look
at the clock. "It's three in the morning. Do you want to get jumped?!"
[I can't take this anymore.] His voice is as serious as mine. It
stops me short. [The wedding. My mom won't back down. She's
going for it. I don't want to play along anymore.]
"Pat…"
[Pack your necessities and come here right now.]
"Hold up, Pat…"
[Run away with me, Pran. Let's be together. Start anew, just
the two of us, and go anywhere that we can be together.]
"Pat, listen to me."
[Let's rent a house far away from here. We can make it if we
both work.]
 "Pat, listen to me!" I shout, my chest burning and painful.
Everything he said got me shaking. I'm scared and happy
simultaneously. I can't deny that my heart swells from those words. I
know I want this as much as him. However, reality won't change.
In reality, it's not easy to do what he wants. Pat is still the same
reckless guy, always running in head–first and think about the
consequences later. The image of him sleeping before the
convenience store with a dog licking his mouth pops up in my head. I
smile a little and shake my head in affection.
All that he is puts a smile on my face, always. I don't want to
ruin that with my own hands.
"Pat…"
[Pran.] The way he calls my name says that he knows what I'm
thinking. We know each other so well. Too well.
"About what you said, I want to agree to it without thinking."
[Then don't think anymore.]
"But it's not that simple in reality, Pat."
[Why do you care about reality? I love you. I want to be with
you.]
"Love and the desire to be together aren't enough. Don't you
understand? Do you think it's easy to leave everything behind and
run away together? Do you think it's good to find a house, get a job,
live with no plans, and just cuddle in our room?"
[It's better than getting locked up and forced to marry someone
else and not you!]
"Pat, you don't understand. I'm already a terrible son. My
mom's been crying for several days now. Everything is going
downhill, don't you see it?"
[I don't care about the others. I want to be with you. Don't you
understand?!]
"Pat!"
[I don't want to endure it any longer. Do you get it? I don't want
to!]
"Pat, calm down. Listen to me. Please listen to me."
My tears fall at last. We're both in pain, and our patience is
running out. We could lose it at any moment, like drug addicts during
the withdrawal stage.
"You have to pull yourself together. You know we can't just run
away. Can you really leave your family behind?"
[You care about your dad, your mom, everyone, but not me.]
"Pat, quit talking nonsense."
[You don't care if we won't be together, if we have to break up,
or if I have to be with someone else?]
I pause because his words pierce right through my heart. I
never said I could stand it or would be willing to break up with him. I
never objected that I didn't love him. Just seeing him being with
someone else and knowing the wedding will happen soon, I want to
scream that I can't take that.
I want to leave everything behind and run away with him as he
said.
I want to be an impulsive idiot.
I want to care about no one and be selfish for once.
Because I know too well that I want to spend the rest of my life
with him.
But…
"You don't care about your parents, but what about your
sister?"
[…]
Hearing those words, Pat goes quiet. He's always been the
brother who loves his sister as much as his life. He puts his sister
first no matter the circumstances. From what I remember, Par is his
only weakness.
[What do you mean exactly…?] An invisible hand just ripped
my heart out of my chest, hearing his quivering voice. I can tell that
he's crying. [You won't go with me no matter what, right?]
I never want to see him cry or hurt him. Our love is like holding
a knife without the handle with bare hands. We don't want to give up
our love, so we clench our teeth and hold on tight, not loosening our
grips even though the blade is cutting our flesh. The wounds have
become too deep to heal as time passes. The only solution is one of
us needs to let go.
 "Pat…" My voice trails off. My heart screams that I love him
thousands of times, but I suppress it all inside. "I'm going abroad."
[What?]
"My dad's sending me to study abroad with Pong."
[I won't let you.]
"You know I can't go against my dad."
[That's why I'm telling you to run away with me. I'm not letting
you go!]
"You can't keep acting like a kid, Pat!"
[If being an adult means losing you, then I won't be one. Can
you hear me? I won't be one!]
We both pant from all the shouts. Despite our immense love,
it's impossible to take each other's sides.
"I can't argue with you until morning, Pat. It's late and
dangerous. Go back to your house."
[No.]
"Pat, don't be childish."
[Are you breaking up with me?]
I knew it was going to happen, but now that we've finally
brought it up, it hurts so much that I cry.
[You know I'm going to have to get married, right?]
"…"
[Can you have it?]
"…"
[Can you stand seeing me with someone else?]
I keep my mouth shut, the lump in my throat getting so big that
a word won't come out.
[I'm going to ask you again, Pran…] Pat says, his voice
shaking, gritting his teeth patiently. [Are you really going to go
abroad? You won't come to me, right?]
I take a deep breath and hold it, trying not to let out a sob. I
don't want to show him my weak side as we let each other go.
"Um…"
With that, Pat goes silent for a long while. Hearing him sob, I
can't hold my tears, my heart burning. It's like everything is falling
apart, and I don't have enough strength to gather the pieces of our
love in my arms.
[If that's your decision, I guess I have to get married for my
parents as well.]
Pat's hoarse voice utters those hurtful words. This time, he just
hangs up, no sweet words nor promises spoken. I only hear the
beeb sound and listen to it until it breaks off.
My knees wobble. I hope Pat will be happy and able to become
his old self even without me. I clasp my phone tightly with both of my
hands and lays my face on them. Tears keep trickling down now that
I stop holding them. I whisper the word of love that will never reach
him no matter how loud it is.
"I love you…"
Even though I can't follow my desire, I hope that the owner of
my heart will at least be doing fine.
 | SCENE TWENTY–EIGHT |
Pat | talk

Without love, I'm pondering the reason for my heart to

exist.
The sunlight hits my eyes when the sun rises above the
building. I decided to crash at Gon's place last night after wandering
around in exhaustion. My hope to be by Pran's side and face all the
obstacles together has been crushed. The thing that hurts me the
most is that we didn't break up because of someone else, but Pran
chose to give us up.
If it were before, I'd do my utmost to make it work.
But now, I'm too tired to get through everything alone.
"Did you sleep well?"
The house owner sits up on the bed and asks drowsily. The
beer in the fridge is all gone. Gon didn't ask why I came here or what
happened. When I rang the bell, he simply let me in and went back
to bed, leaving me contemplating my life by myself. Nevertheless, no
matter how long it's taken, my worry still flies around violently in my
heart like fine dust.
"Will you tell me what happened now? What the fuck is going
on? Did you run away from home?"
I give no response, believing silence is the best answer for
now. Gon gets out of the bed and unzips my backpack. Looking at
my clothes, he sighs and sits beside me. He pushes my head gently,
and I fall feebly backward.
"How exaggerating."
"Pran dumped me."
"Hmm?"
"He…wouldn't go with me."
 "To where? Pat, you son of a bitch, don't tell me you wanted to
run away with him. Are you crazy? It'd cause a ruckus. Didn't you
see the missing person posts on the internet? How far do you think
you can make?"
"What am I supposed to do? I'm at a dead–end."
"Relax."
"Pran dumped me."
"Serves you right. How childish," Gon mutters and goes to the
bathroom, leaving me staring at the ceiling on my back. Now that
silence returns, Pran's short answer repeats in my mind.
"You know." The house owner comes back with a toothbrush in
his mouth. I have to listen carefully to his muffled voice. "I think you
should go home and smooth things out with your family. No parents
can bear seeing their kids suffer."
"Not all parents love their kids," I mumble. "A house is not the
safe zone for everyone, Gon."
"I know…But you also know that running away will put you and
Pran in a difficult position. The same goes for Par."
"Pran is going abroad."
"It's not like he's going to die."
"I'm going to have to get married."
"What good will fighting this way do?" he says, his voice low.
Gon disappears into the bathroom to rinse his mouth and comes out
with a towel thrown at me. "Take a shower and get it together. I'll give
you a ride home."
"I don't want to go home."
"Pat." Gon places his hand on my shoulder. His eyes convey
everything a friend can feel. "Pran left you, but your parents will
never leave you. Go home, Okay? Trust me."
I stay silent for a moment…
And nod.
The sound of things breaking and the crying sound reverberate
when Gon and I enter my house. I feel more uneasy than ever. My
clothes, precious game discs, and car models collection scatter all
over the marble floor. My eyes run over them to the seething middle–
aged man. He pants, his shoulders going up and down.
 "Why did you show your face here again, you ungrateful
child?!"
I stand still and look past him. My mom is weeping on the floor
while Par is holding her. She puts the inhalant to our mom's nose
and keeps her from collapsing.
I don't know when they found out I ran away from home.
One thing is for sure: Everything is a disaster, a complete
mess.
"Pat, how did I raise you that you were so blinded to the point
you abandoned your parents and sister to run away with a guy?"
"I didn't run away with Pran."
"Wasn't it because of that brat that you did something shameful
and made your mom faint so early in the morning?" The mentioned
person tries to stand up and come to me, but her awful mental state
weakens her body. Par supports her and leads her a bit forcefully to
the velvet couch in the middle of the house.
"Wasn't it because you and Mom kept forcing me?"
"You haven't reflected on your action, huh?! You caused us
trouble. When will you come to your senses? Don't you love your
mom at all?!"
"Do any of you love me?!"
"Pat, I love you. Mom loves you…Please don't go anywhere."
The sight agonizes me. I wouldn't be mad at Dad if he punched
me in the face. A son deserves the worst punishment if he makes his
mother weeps like death.
"Pat, I'm begging you. Don't run away again. Stay here with
Mom."
My heart is already in pieces because of Pran. And when I hear
a sob begging me to come back, everything crumbles down. The
pain from getting rejected pushes me towards the one who loves me.
I am weak. This is the plainest and loneliest weak moment in my life.
It puts me on my knees and makes me bow to Mom in desperation.
Her warm hand touches my head and strokes it lovingly and
forgivingly.
She's the only one…
"I surrender."
 No matter what happens…
"I'll do everything you want, Mom."
She still loves and cares about me…
And will never let go of my hand.
We all make terrible mistakes and cause trouble to others once
in our lives, and everyone has different methods to reflect on it. I've
done whatever I wanted since I was a kid. I've always been
impulsive, reckless, and spoiled.
I've just realized it now that I have to follow the strict rules like a
completely different person.
The wedding to connect the two families is scheduled for the
first month of the following year. This winter is the time another
person joins my family. And soon later, one more will come naturally.
My feelings are gone, leaving only numbness. Since I no longer
have the happiness of my own, I desire to ruin others. My breath is
just an automatic mechanism to keep me alive day by day.
"Pat, please don't forget to get the suit tomorrow."
Knives clink the porcelain plates gently in a fancy restaurant in
the mall. My soon–to–be fianc้ cuts the steak into bite–sized pieces
and chews them politely. I nod and sip on the water as a response.
"My friend sends me more hairstyle collections. I really can't
decide."
"The one you chose looks good enough."
"It looks all right, but the others are also cute. Braids with
traditional Thai costume won't make me look old."
"You should talk to your friend about it." I feel uncomfortable
sharing my opinion about the engagement ceremony to be held in a
few weeks. Although the frivolous Pat is gone, I'm still the same old
person who finds these things annoying.
"You don't seem to care about it."
"It's the way I am."
"You're not like this when you're with Par." I argue with Punch
more often lately. Mostly because of my unthoughtful personality.
"Why do you take care of everything for your sister but show no
interest in our matters?"
"I don't want to fight with you."
 "I'm sorry, but sometimes I can't help wondering if you're going
to marry me because you like me or because you can't turn down
your family."
I stay quiet. Love has never been our topic. If I could look into
my heart, it would be similar to a dying heart of an animal waiting to
be butchered and sold.
"Could you answer me?"
"Fine, I just need to choose a hairstyle, huh?"
"Pat…I'm not telling you to go along with me. I want to know
how you feel."
"Don't be too demanding, Punch," I growl through gritted teeth.
How patient do I have to be living with someone with a different
attitude? "We both know this didn't start off very well. Everything
happened too fast.
"You should talk to your mom if you're not ready. I'm not in a
rush, anyway."
Fortunately, the girl before still has patience with me.
"So…how are you going to style your hair? Have you thought
about it? I think tying it up will be nice."
"No."
Thinking of the person who used to keep asking me to cut my
hair back when we were students, it's like the blood in my heart is
sucked dry. From the start, I grew my hair because I like my rough–
looking image. Messy long, curly hair. And I loved my messy hair
even more as Pran seemed annoyed when I rubbed my long hair on
his shoulder. I loved listening to his nag like a lunatic. I planned to
cut my hair before I started working, but he had to be the one
begging me cutely to do it.
"I'll just cut it."
Because my wish…will never come true.
I spend the entire afternoon changing my hairstyle and shaving
my beard. My face is now spotless. I'm not familiar with myself in the
mirror. However, judging from how the barber and my soon–to–be
fianc้e look at me, I know this hairstyle suits me better than the
previous one. Even my parents and Par are surprised to see the
eldest son walking into the house in a completely different look.
 I say nothing and avoid every question. After dropping Punch
off at her place, I stayed for dinner with Aunt Duang and took my
leave once the sun had set. My daily routine is repetitive recently. I
spend most of my time with Punch to learn how to handle and put up
with my future life partner.
I sigh, unbutton my shirt, and toss it in the laundry basket in the
corner of my new bedroom. I won't be able to see the other person's
room from the balcony here.
This is how it's supposed to be…My parents are at ease, and
Pran has a bright future ahead.
"Pat, I'm coming in," my sister's voice is soft yet clear in this
silence. I mumble permission, still staring at the ceiling. I stifle the
bitterness rising up in my throat, pushing it down with my last tears
days ago, though my heart is screaming like a baby not being fed as
a punishment.
"Are you okay?" Par sits down, sinking in the mattress. "I'm
worried seeing you like this."
"I'm fine."
"Pran's departure date is on the thirteenth."
I go silent for a moment. From what she said, it means Pran
stills contacts my sister.
But our relationship ended that night.
The night he was willing to let go of my hand as go on his own
path.
"The same day as the engagement ceremony."
"What are you going to do now? Get engaged and find a way
to break up with Punch later? Did you talk to Pran?"
"No, and I won't. I'll just do what Mom wants."
"But you don't look happy at all." Her voice shakes like she's
going to cry. I turn my eyes from the ceiling to my sister's back and
pat it gently to comfort her. "I don't like the way things are right now."
"You're a grownup. You know we can't have everything we
want."
"Are you going to give up this easily? This doesn't sound like
my old brother."
 "What can I do?" I put my hand down weakly and close my
eyes in pain. "The person I wish to fight for doesn't want me."
"Pran is stubborn. You know that."
"He was right, Par…It's not just the two of us in this world."
I might've dragged him to a miserable path if I'd insisted on
doing what I wanted.
"I've thought about it. It's for the best to give him time and give
myself a chance."
"What chance?" Par wraps her arms around her knees. "A
chance for me to lose the old brother I knew?"
I say nothing, letting her continue.
"It's not like the others don't sense it. You're the worst at hiding
your feelings, you know? I, Mom, Dad, and all the others know
you're not okay with this."
Yet, we both hope tomorrow will be better if we do nothing
today.
"Are you really going to let things go on this way?"
I nod, thinking of the guy I love.
"I'll do as he said for once."
My eyes sparkle, then I snarl.
"If it makes no one feel better in the end, I will never let him
go."
 | SCENE TWENTY–NINE |
Pran | talk

Pat ended the call long ago, but I'm still clutching my phone,
unable to release it as if it's the only connecting us. I pray that I'll be
strong enough to not pack up my things and jump off the window to
run away with him.
Pat has always been rash and made decisions based on his
emotions. He takes action before thinking it through. But since I
could clean up all the mess he caused, he never cared about the
unfavorable consequences of his actions.
I tried to protect him, though I didn't say that out loud. I played
the cruel role and hurt the person I love. I let go of his hand and
walked away, abandoning our love. Even so, I wasn't happy with
every decision I made.
Everything…I did it all for him.
I spend the night fidgeting and opening the curtains to check if
Pat has come home. I open and close the curtains and walk back
and forth until the first light breaks. Time feels so slow until I hear a
commotion from the house next door. I press my lips so hard that
they hurt, knowing Pat didn't come back. His parents have started
kicking a big fuss. They scream so loud, and it makes me worry
about Par. I knew this was going to happen…
Pat, come back to take care of your sister.
My eyes get teary as I realize how disastrous our love is. I've
never thought our happiness would devastate others. I can hear
Pat's mother scream from here. I have no idea what's going on
inside. After an hour, everything finally becomes quiet. I knit my brow
and clench my fists so hard that my hands bleed, hating myself even
more for my incapability to do anything. I'm just an ordinary person
who can change nothing.
 Pat comes home eventually. He walks inside with a big
backpack, which means the call last night wasn't my imagination. I
let my tears fall again when I see the side of his face. The monster in
my heart is shrieking and trying to rip my chest apart. I want to
scream and destroy everything just because I can't stand the look on
his face.
"Their kid finally showed his true color. How could he run away
from home like that? How did they raise him?"
I munch my food with my head down, listening to those hateful
words towards the other family. It just keeps worsening. I wish I
could cut the chain tied around my legs, slam my fists on the table,
sweep everything in front of me off, and run to the person who is in
agony as I am in the house right next to mine. But I can only turn a
deaf ear to my parents' words. I need to endure it for his better
future. In reality, we have to accept that we can't do whatever we
want.
"Isn't that right? And they even made such a fuss so early in
the morning. How rude."
"He could be a drug addict, running away from home like that."
As Mom chimes in, Dad continues. "In the end, he just screwed up
and came back less than a day."
I wish I could go deaf and dumb if I can't speak my mind when
my mouth and ears work fine.
"Don't associate with him ever again, Pran. Think of the past as
a dog bite."
If Dad views our love as a dog bite, then the bite is an utterly
ugly wound, leaving a huge scar on my chest. It's painful and
unforgettable…
"Have you looked into the universities?"
The conversation moves on to me, but I'm not really in the
mood to answer. "I will."
"Just choose already. I plan to send you there ahead of
schedule within this month. I talked with Pong."
"Dad."
"What?"
 He asks sternly and meets my gaze. He even narrows his eyes
to remind me that I should think before I speak.
"If I cut ties with Pat for good, can you not send me abroad?"
"Why?"
"I don't want to go. I want to stay here."
Dad looks at me. We hold each other's gazes. My heart beats
faster, expecting his next words to be different.
"We won't talk about this again."
"But Dad…"
No matter how desperate I hope, my wish never comes true.
"I've made up my mind."
"Did you really make up your mind?"
"Do I have a say in the matter in the first place?"
I answer honestly. At this rate, Wai is the only person I can
speak my mind with.
"Pran."
"Yeah?"
"I had a drink with those engineering dudes the other day."
"How come?" I laugh. "Have you stopped fighting?"
"It's all because of you two."
"…" I halt and meet his eyes, noting the implication.
"Something changed, you see. It really happened. Your
relationship didn't bring only bad outcomes."
"So what? Does it matter? Can it help us?" I raise my voice a
little, feeling pent–up. There are only Wai and me in his room, so no
one would hear us. "Who cares if I am miserable? Who can help us?
Do you think we didn't have a fight with our parents? Our families
were so close to falling apart."
"Pran…"
"I'm all right, but his family…I feel sorry for Par." I calm down
when mentioning Pat's only sister. Sighing, I look out the window.
"Running away together is easy, and it's not like I don't want to do it.
I refuse to do it because I know no one will be happy as we hope in
the end."
Pat's face appears in the sky above. I watch it until it fades
away.
 "Pat would never stop worrying about his sister while I'd never
forget my family." Knowing him well, I know we won't have the
happiness we wish for even if we run away to the end of the world.
"…"
The room falls into silence. We're lost in thought for ten
minutes.
"…I sympathize with you," Wai says and grips my shoulder
firmly. I meet his gaze and can only smile at his solemn expression.
"I wouldn't be able to make decisions if I were to face the same
situation. I wouldn't be able to do what you did."
"…I'm fine."
"You're not."
"Yeah, sorry." I laugh. "I'm used to lying to myself."
"Pran, quit joking."
"I'm not joking." It's the truth.
"Really."
"Come on, I even asked for my mom's permission to hang out
with you. I'm sick of being grounded."
"It's really serious. She even drove you here."
"And she'll pick me up."
"Fuck…It's tough being you."
"Someone has it harder."
Wai laughs, knowing exactly who it is.
Who else could it be except the person I'm thinking of with all
my heart?
"Have you started packing up?"
Mom asks during the ride home. We don't look at each other.
Her eyes are fixed on the road ahead while I lean my head on the
window and watch the view outside.
"No."
"I've prepared the suitcases. Just pick one. Maybe the big one
so you can take a lot of stuff?"
"Yeah."
"Pong will look after you there. Since you can cook, I'm not
worried about your food."
"Yeah."
 "I heard it's chilly. Let's go and buy some sweaters together the
day after tomorrow."
"Yeah."
I agree with everything, like a robot programmed to follow
orders. I have the right to listen and not refuse. I'm allowed to think
but not make decisions. Everything goes on against my will.
I step out of the car once we've reached home. My phone
suddenly vibrates. I sneak a glance at the screen and it shows Par's
name. My heart paces as I dismiss the call to stop the vibration
before Mom can notice. I slip my phone in my pocket, acting natural,
then I hurry to my room without looking suspicious.
As soon as I shut the door, I pick up the second call
immediately.
"Hello."
[Pran.]
"Hey, Par."
[How are you holding up?]
"Me…? I'm all right." Is Pat all right, though? Didn't she call me
to talk about him?
Despite the uneasiness, not a single question slips out of my
mouth.
[I heard you're going abroad.]
"Oh, you're right. The date is decided. I'll leave on the thirteenth
of this month."
[Thirteenth?!]
I lift my eyebrow at Par's shocked voice repeating my word.
"Yeah, the thirteenth. What's the matter?"
[N…Nothing.] She stutters, but I don't push her. [Why so soon?
It's in a few days.]
"My dad wants me to leave as soon as possible." I laugh,
forcing my voice to sound unbothered. "We've discussed it for about
a month. When everything was settled, he decided to send me there
right away."
[Oh, yeah…?]
Her voice sounds faint. I can tell she has something to say but
doesn't dare to do it. And I don't plan to bring it up first, so let's just
keep it unspoken.
"How are you, Par? It's been a while."
[I'm all right. By the way, since you're going abroad, that means
you're not attending the commencement ceremony?]
"I guess so. My parents care more about sending me abroad."
A piece of paper is nothing comparing to keeping me a continent
away from Pat.
[Oh, yeah…?]
Par repeats. With none of us mentioning what's on our minds,
we say goodbye and hang up. I pull the big suitcase near the door to
the middle of my bedroom. I open it, take a deep breath, and start
rummaging through the closet for the clothes I'd like to bring along. I
won't take many with me since it's easier to buy new ones when I get
there. However, I pack up as they ordered to avoid questions.
I fold my clothes roughly. Other necessities my mom left on the
table are transferred into the suitcase one by one. I've finished
packing pretty quickly, seeing no point in bringing too much stuff.
The last task is buying the sweaters as Mom wants. I sigh and plop
on the bed. My eyes flick to the plush bunny that is now darker than
the last time I washed it. It looked way better back then.
Its owner left it here since the day my mom came in and
screamed. I have no idea if he can sleep without cuddling Shabby.
It's impossible to return it now. I hold it in my hands, stroke its ears,
and smile. Recalling the way that punk snuggled it every single day, I
crack up.
We were so much happier back then, weren't we, Pat?
I exhale, letting the memories erase the smile on my face. I hug
the plush to my chest and close my eyes to stop the brimming tears.
I breathe in deeply and whisper loud enough for only his Fragrant to
hear.
"You're coming with me…"
Three days before the departure, the family next door was busy
preparing for the engagement ceremony. People ran in and out of
the house almost every day. The garden was tended to and
decorated nicely for the important day. I learn that the ceremony is
held on my departure day when I get ready to go out and spot Pat in
a light–color suit in his front yard. This is the first time we saw each
other in a month. He cut his hair short, looking totally different. It
hurts because he wouldn't cut it no matter how hard I begged him to,
but he could do it easily for his future, significant person.
Despite everything, some sort of longing surges in my heart.
He's going to say something and decides not to. We're a few feet
away from each other, from his garden to the front gate, yet the
distance feels so far and unconnected.
When my mom comes out to summon me to the car. No words
have been exchanged between him and me. No goodbyes uttered
as I get in the car, and we drive off. I clench my fists, clasping my
hands together. I tighten them until they shake, afraid that my
patience will vanish at any moment. I shut my eyes, not looking
back, begging the pain in my heart to fade away.
At the airport, I trail after my parents quietly, letting them handle
everything for me without a word. When I'm at the gate, I just say
goodbye to them. We don't hug, express our love, or exchange
emotional words. I turn around and walk into the gate, following the
steps perfectly, then I head to the boarding area to wait for the
departure time. I play on my phone to pass the time, though one
certain thing sticks to my mind. As I scroll through the Facebook
feed, I glance at the clock and find that it's time to board. When I'm
closing the app, my finger brushes the screen and a photo shows up.
It's the photo of the engagement ceremony of a couple. They're
embracing each other with joy.
I wouldn't care much if it weren't Pat in the photo…
I stare at it for a while until I realize I need to board the plane. I
rub my face with my hand to get a grip. Before I stand up, I like the
photo and lock the screen.
I'm off to the country devoid of 'our' memories.
Nor him…
 | SCENE THIRTY |
Pat | talk

I've recently discovered that as long as my brain is working,

and I'm still breathing, I can live my life just fine.
The engagement ceremony was simple and traditional as the
elders managed. It brought everyone a delighted smile. Even a
certain someone cold–heartedly liked the photo uploaded on the
social platform after the ceremony was over. Despite the pain, we
both know a broken heart doesn't kill, though it leaves severe
damage on the inside.
Life…goes on.
Five months passed by so fast that even I am surprised that I
could endure it this long. The sun rises and sets as always. Punch
and I have learned more about each other. Par stays at home and
drives a brand new Nissan March to the university alone. The house
next door…Pran no longer lives there.
The misbehaved young man has changed into Napat who
wears a suit and tie to work at his family company, like the other
people who graduated from the salaryman producing machine called
universities and entered the working society.
I wake up early and go to this large and tall building. I sit in the
air–conditioned square room overlooking thousands of similar
buildings. I have to solve new problems every day and it sometimes
requires my engineering knowledge. Occasionally, I only need to use
the organized thinking skill I learned in my freshman year.
Days pass by with the same old feeling.
I long for the past that will never return.
"Who approved this purchase order?"
In the middle–sized meeting room of the ten–story tower, I lean
my back against the backrest, turning my eyes from the projector
screen to the speaker. My dad is seated at the head of the table,
taking the reins of the company for as long as I can remember. He
asked the question in a low tone, tapping his fingers on the polished
mahogany table. The person supposed to answer turns his eyes
downcast by instinct. Apparently, the employees in all ranks find my
incensed father intimidating.
"It was signed during Minister Kanlong's era, sir. After the
transition, some details in the TOR draft were changed. Therefore,
the approved edition differs from the one we detected."
"And the sales department didn't deal with it?!"
"We did, sir, but we were tricked. SR Corp. also aimed for the
project. I assume the procurement department didn't discuss the
matter with Mr. Kanlong, which resulted in the wrong specification.
He notified us later on, so we could change the auction document in
time."
"But we already ordered this set?"
I listen and shoot a glance at the sales supervisor's pale face.
They spent a large number of entertainment expenses yet failed to
obtain the project. If everything is ruined because of a wrong order,
someone is bound to get a drastic punishment.
My dad took over the mid–sized construction business from my
grandfather. Our financial connections aren't strong enough to deal
with the damage if the operation is overdue. The current problem is
the project we auctioned requests the particular specification that
has to be specifically purchased. Unfortunately, SR Corp. bought up
the available products, understanding that they have taken the
project.
"Are the supplies in the factory sufficient to purchase?"
"They're in production, but it's going to slow the whole
process."
"The fees will be tremendous. That damn prick put us in a
difficult situation on purpose."
Everyone goes silent. That damn prick in question is SR Corp.,
Pran's father's company. Now that I officially work here, I kind of
understand why both families are on bad terms. For some part, since
we are business rivals, it's all about outsmarting one another in the
ruthless competition. But still, I wonder if the reason why two
businessmen harbor so much hatred towards each other is simply
that they're running the same kind of business.
"I truly loathe them. If I could, I'd hire a gunman to blow their
heads to settle things for good," the president grunts, drawing my
attention as I space out. His visible grouchy expression irks me.
"If they could, they would do the same to you," I murmur, but
everyone hears it. Laughter breaks out amid the stressful situation.
Even though I've agreed to marry the girl my parents chose and
assist my dad at work with whatever he asks, the suppressed
rebellious side in me ripples, like an undercurrent occasionally
creating whirlpools on the surface.
"Watch your mouth! Well, tell me. How would you solve the
problem?"
The president snarls. The situation we're facing is one of a few
tests I have to pass. This is a piece of cake, though, if we drops our
ego.
"Do you want me to be in charge of this?"
"Contact Manop yourself, then. All right, how's the project in
Chumphon? Show me the progress report."
The projector screen displays the progress program comparing
with our plan. I sip on the coffee to keep myself awake in the
afternoon and gaze at the view from time to time. I look at the
ceramic cup of lukewarm coffee, my mind wandering to someone.
I wish I could forget him, but my position at work still reminds
me of him in the end.
Honestly…
…Everything reminds me of him.
I got permission to use my original bedroom a short while after
Pran went to study abroad. I gained their trust through dating Punch
while losing myself every single day. After dinner with her, I excuse
myself and go straight to the bedroom upstairs. Pran never came to
this room. Even if he could, I wouldn't let him risk climbing over the
roof to be here.
It's aggravating when someone can come in and out of here as
if it's her own room.
 "I went shopping with your mom this afternoon and got you
another box to keep your things in the closet. I've put it in its place."
I nod and turn on my laptop, ignoring the person who keeps
talking.
"I told you several times to use the pajamas on the top first. If
you just take them out carelessly like this, everything I fold will turn
into a mess."
"Just leave it like that."
"Pat, tidying your stuff is tiring."
"I told you to leave it. Go and do your things."
"Why don't you take a shower before using the laptop?"
I don't reply. Punch wraps her arms around me from behind
and presses her nose on my rough cheek, yet the intimate action
has zero effect in arousing me.
We're close enough to kiss. I avoid it most of the time, but not
to the extent of making her doubt my feelings.
"You stink."
Spending time with Punch feels so different from when Pran
was next to me. I nod silently and scroll through the feed to see how
my friends are doing. Poom won a scholarship to study abroad. Gon
works in Chiang Mai and checks in at the bars regularly.
"Oh, who is this? I've never seen him before."
It's the latest photo of the person who used to be by my side.
Pran wears a dark–color coat, waving his hand to brush the camera
away, making the photo blurry. The person tagging him is the one he
presently lives with. I usually noticed them checking in at many
places together, though I'm not confident what kind of relationship
they have.
Pran rarely updates his status on social platforms, so I need to
check his tagged photos instead. He's still the same with that
deadpan and arrogant face, and the background is his bedroom. I
would be furious if I didn't catch a glimpse of Fragrant lying on the
pillow behind.
I knew I lost it a long time ago, but I never expected Pran to
take it to the other side of the world.
 How hilarious that this is enough to inexplicitly soothe my
withered heart.
"You're not answering me. Well, take a shower and use the
laptop later, okay?"
She kisses my cheek again and again until I finally turn away in
annoyance. "Stop fooling around, Punch."
"You got all serious again."
"I have to think about something. I'll give you a lift first and
come back to take a shower later."
"Should I stay over? I can prepare a hot bath for you."
"Don't bother," I decline, exhaling. "It's not good for yourself.
Come on, I'll drive you home."
"Pat, we're getting married in a few months."
"Let's wait until then." I give her a stern look. She gazes at me
with sad eyes. Obviously, she wants to take a step forward with me.
As a woman dating her soon–to–be future partner, our shallow
relationship gives her a sense of insecurity. Par told me tons of times
that Punch wishes I would express my male sexual desire more.
Judging from the way I've behaved, she's worried that I'm marrying
her only for my family and that I have no feelings for her at all.
They say women sense things better than men. I guess I can't
argue with that.
"We still have time, Punch. No need to rush things," I comfort
her and put my hand on her head, looking at my fianc้e with my fake
gentle eyes.
I feel so sorry for the girl before me.
Around ten, I've reached home with the beer I bought from a
convenience store on the way. The millions–worth detached house is
quiet, with no family activities. We've been acting indifferent and cold
to one another, and there is no way for us to conciliate. I might stop
being rebellious and follow my parents' orders, but I am no longer
the old Napat, the eldest son who always joked around to make his
family smile.
As Par said, everyone knows but ignores it. They all know my
life has changed dramatically yet decide to turn a blind eye.
 To say I'm doing well and everything is fine, that's just an utterly
shameful lie to hide the fact that I can't even accept the misery I
brought upon myself for surrendering to the appropriateness as the
judges, my own family, deem fit.
The black–out curtains are drawn open. I open the beer lid and
chug it from the bottle, looking out the glass window. The other side
is Pran's bedroom balcony that has been closed for months. I recall
those roguish days when I followed my heart without fear, Pran's
expression when I knocked on his glass door, and even his worried
eyes watching me jump from the balcony to the wall, step on the tile
roof, and climb back to my own room.
I would do that a thousand times more.
It'd put me at ease more than sitting in this safe yet lonely
room.
The knocks on the door break the silence a while after I started
drinking. My voice sounds hoarse as I give permission for the other
person to come in. The light outside seeps through the gap of the
opened door. I turn my head and find that it's not my sister as I
expected. Mom frowns and turns on the soft, orange light.
"Why didn't you turn on the light, Pat?"
"I'm going to sleep right after a few drinks."
"You're drinking beer again?" Mom mumbles and heaves a
sigh. After Pran was off to study abroad, I started to constantly rely
on alcohol to lull myself to sleep. I'm not doing this to get attention.
The nights I realize Pran is forever gone are just unbearably cruel.
"I'm scared that you'll become a drunkard."
"I won't be wasted," I say humbly. "Just enough to feel sleepy."
I continue sipping on the beer, and the visitor soon sits on the
mattress. I'm on the floor, leaning my back against the large bed.
"How was it driving her home? Do you get along well? I noticed
you've become pretty quiet lately."
"It was okay."
"The wedding is in a few months, dear."
I gulp the beer for a long moment upon hearing those words.
When I can't catch my breath, I put the bottle down next to me and
shut my eyes. "I know."
 "You don't act like a proper future groom."
"I'm sorry, Mom," I murmur. I'm sorry for unable to be nicer.
Some days I smiled, but under the smile was plain numbness. But
when my sadness shows, under it is the more miserable and more
genuine heartache. I just discovered that we can fake laughter but
can never fake sadness without really feeling it. "I've tried my best."
"Pat…Is she not nice to you? Did you have a fight?"
"Punch is great," I say honestly. If someone is to blame, it's
definitely not the girl who never wrongs anyone. "I'm the bad one."
Although I can't fathom how having a heart is considered guilt.
I'm guilty of loving someone. Why does an individual who has
love, greed, anger, and desire just like me judge my feelings for Pran
as a great sin?
I hear the sound of movement on the bed. Mom comes down
and seats herself beside me, her eyes following my gaze fixed on
the place ahead.
"Mom, can I ask you something?" I turn away from Pran's
balcony to my mom, eyes full of questions. "Why do our families hate
each other so much?"
"Pat, it was long ago. Just know that your dad will never forgive
them."
"I did everything you told me and gave up my life, but I don't
have the right to know anything?"
I drop my gaze and drink a new bottle of beer. We both sit in
silence until the third bottle is empty. I grab the fourth, then the fifth.
That's when my mom starts to answer the question that has been
stuck in my mind for a long time.
"Your dad is your grandfather's only son. Our company was
passed on to your dad after he died. It's the only legacy your
grandfather left for him," my mom begins, sharing the story that
happened before I was born. "Your dad treasured this company, Pat.
He managed the business with former co–workers. Many of them
passed away or resigned to work somewhere else, yet your dad
never gave up. He did everything to maintain the company. A year
before you were born, he planned to cut down the kickback paid for
getting projects to pursue decent business. He used the budget to
improve our business."
I nod. The dim light in the bedroom makes her weary face vivid
in the mirror.
"We'd learned for a while that our new neighbors also ran the
same kind of business, so we exchanged our knowledge at times.
However, as our company cut down the budget, their company went
all out with their entertainment expenses, contradicting us. In the
end, SR Corp. obtained every project that year. Their company was
found a few years after us but able to climb the ranks to our level in
no time. That was when your dad found out that everything he told
them out of trust was their plan to be close to us and get information
about how to receive projects."
"Even though we failed to grasp the projects partly because we
decided to change our business plan?"
"It was more than that, Pat. You can't judge everything merely
from that fact. The company was in a critical state. Your dad
struggled to pay the employees, and our relatives who worked
together turned their backs on him. At last, he was all alone. It was
too late to change the policy. We ran out of money. We couldn't even
afford our food." Mom clasps her hands, tormented by the cruel past.
"Your dad made up his mind and took out a loan to invest. He finally
got a project, but we faced the economic crisis, the financial bubble.
The company hiring us didn't send the payment and disappeared
without a trace. The supplier we purchased their products with our
credit sued us since we couldn't pay them."
"Did it happen long ago?"
"It was before you were born. Your dad was really struggling.
He tried to seek help but found none. Plus, all credible clients chose
SR Corp. They underbid the price and received tons of big projects.
When your dad lowered his pride to borrow them some money, they
said they had none. How could it be? They secured more projects
than we had in our prime time. The information about the politicians
they bribed was all from those conversations with your dad."
"But they could've had their own method to bid for the projects."
 "No one knew for sure how they did that, Pat. Pakorn was
younger than your dad and had less experience in the construction
business. We adored him and wanted to help him succeed to some
extent, yet he abandoned us when we hit rock bottom. We finally
went bankrupt. As I told you, the company was the only thing your
grandfather left for him. Your dad was too ashamed to admit that he
couldn't maintain it." Mom presses her lips together. "It was a really
hard time that you can never imagine."
Her feelings reflect on her face. It must be a difficulty that I will
never experience after my parents survived it years ago.
"The house was very quiet that day. There wasn't even the
sound of the breeze. I guess my body weakened because of stress,
and your dad lost appetite and suffered from sleep deprivation. I had
to go to the hospital alone during the day. When I knew I was
pregnant with you, I didn't know if I should be happy or sad. We
could barely feed ourselves, and we were going to have you."
Mom flicks her eyes at me. They were full of affection and
heartfelt gratitude. "When I opened the door, your dad pointed your
grandfather's gun to his head. He'd given up, but he decided to fight
again, knowing you were in me. Your dad loves you so much, and he
doesn't want us to associate with that evil family."
I swallow hard now that I've learned the secret kept for over
twenty years.
The deep resentment from that day continues to escalate, and
no one ever had the chance to speak of it. My parents see Pran's
family as monsters, but I believe everyone has their own reasons
behind their actions. And it might not always benefit the other party.
That could be the reason why my parents can't let me date
Pran as my heart desires.
"Fortunately, there was a reunion party. Your dad never
attended one before that year. He joined the party and got back in
touch with his close senior. Punch's maternal family gave us another
chance and helped us survive, Pat. I want to repay them. Can you
take care of Punch instead of us, so Duang can be at ease?"
I press my lips tightly and chug more beer.
 "Mom…If they're nice to us, we shouldn't do this to their
daughter."
"Pat."
"I've tried, Mom. I've tried so hard. I tried to open my heart to
her and take care of her as much as a man could. But deep down,
Punch knows we're so far from being lovers." A teardrop rolls from
my eyes. I look away to hide my sorrow, but it all pours down like an
exploded dam.
"I don't want to hurt her. I don't want to hurt you and Dad.
That's why I'm trying to forget that my life is mine. I'm trying so hard
that sometimes I'm mad at myself for having a heart."
I put my face on my knees. It could be the fifth bottle of beer
that makes me sob like a little kid. A warm hand touches my back. I
can't assure my mom that my effort will bear fruits as she hopes.
"Is it so painful, Pat?"
"Trying to love someone isn't painful. It's painful to forget that
I'm also in love, the impossible love. Pran and I did nothing wrong.
He was so nice to me and Par, so nice that you and Dad will never
believe it no matter how hard I try to tell you."
"We did all this because we care about you."
"Then why does it feel so suffocating that I could die?"
Mom pulls me into her embrace. It's so warm and loving, yet it
doesn't ease the pain that really happened.
I close my eyes and stay in my mom's hug for a long while,
letting tears fall, crying, venting all my pent–up feelings.
So long…that I fall asleep from the effect of alcohol like every
past night.
In the morning, my memories are unclear, and I pretend to
forget the burst of my emotions when I was drunk last night.
I find myself on this soft bed as the sun shines. The blanket
covers my neck more neatly than ever. I greet everyone
emotionlessly as if I feel no pain deep inside.
My mom watches me with her weary, exhausted gaze. When
our eyes meet, she turns away to hide her feelings from me.
In the afternoon, I look into the cause of our company's current
problem as assigned in the meeting, about how P and P's offer was
accepted but SR Corp. bought up all construction products.
Analyzing the issue without prejudice, it turns out SR Corp. made a
mistake with the deal. They didn't try to make us short of materials
on purpose as my dad accused. Thinking of their conflict, it's highly
possible that these two families could've misunderstood each other
and never had a heart–to–heart conversation.
"They didn't get this project yet spent their money on the
product that cannot be used with other projects. They must've been
so confident that they ordered the supplies before the result
announcement," I muse, leaning my back against the leather
cushion. I nibble my fingertip as my brain works. After contemplating
the matter numerous times, the conclusion is both companies are in
trouble.
"It seems to be like that."
"Manop, do you think they will sell the product to us? This is a
very big project. We're going to complete it behind schedule no
matter how fast the production process is."
"Goodness, Pat," the sales supervisor laughs dryly. We both
know what the actual problem is. "It sounds impossible for them to
sell the product to us even if we double the price. A similar situation
happened before. Luckily, the client accepted our excuse and
postponed the schedule."
"I don't want to take that kind of risk. This project is worth
millions, Manop. If we're charged, the average daily cost is pretty
severe."
"I'm at a loss. It's my fault for dealing with the wrong person."
"It's okay. Mistakes happen all the time. The client is also being
difficult. They don't even have certain information about the person
who drafted the restrictions. Thankfully, we got a call and changed
the content of the auction document in time," I laugh softly, acting
completely differently from my dad who takes mistakes too seriously.
"Do me a favor, Manop. Prepare a basket of fruits and make an
appointment with Mr. Pakorn for me."
"Are you sure about this? What if…"
"Forget my dad. Our company is more important. I'm just going
to buy the product, not asking for his son's hand," I joke, and it hurts
me to the core. Manop sighs, troubled, but still agrees to do it
against his will.
Speaking of Pran's father's company and mine, the only
differences are the locations and appearances. SR Corp. is in a
thirty–story building in the center of Bangkok with good
transportation. They don't own a private building and have to pay an
expensive rental fee. Of course, that means they maintain a high
degree of liquidity.
After Manop's several attempts, Pakorn finally agreed to meet
up with me on Friday in the afternoon. I drive there in my own car,
not telling anyone. Only a few responsible colleagues and I know
about this meeting. I need to see him in person to show my respect
as much as possible.
Becoming an adult, one thing I've learned is that not everything
will be in our favor. Even though I don't want to do business with
Pran's company, confront them, or whatever, I still have to show my
maturity that I put my company first, not my personal matters.
"Good afternoon."
The president's room is opened by the secretary. I greet
Pakorn and settle the basket of fruits on the large black glass table.
His eyes are calm and cold, the gaze on me as indifferent as ever.
"How are you, sir?"
"Say what you have to say. Don't beat around the bush. I don't
have that much time."
"Oh, all right. Let's get to the point. I'd like to discuss the
Chiang Dao project that P and P obtained. There's this one product
that TOR requests a particular specification. I contacted the factory
and it seemed the production process would be too slow. Besides,
they'd sold all the supplies in stock to SR Corp."
"You worked fast and got the project. Are you here to be
complimented?"
"No, sir," I say politely and clasp my hands on my lap. "I believe
both of us are facing problems."
"There is no problem here."
"Please let me say something about the past. I know both
companies despised each other's working strategies. However, once
my father resigns, I plan to modernize the company's management.
The antagonism between both companies benefits no one. Instead
of maintaining your liquidity, you lost your money just to protect your
pride. I apologize if it sounds offensive, but I'm here with the purpose
of reconciliation."
"Young people these days think they can do everything easily,"
Pakorn criticizes, and I drop my gaze. The story my mom told me
gave me some insight into the conflicts between the two families.
Even so, that's just one side of the story.
"To me, it all happened long ago. We don't need to be stuck in
the past. No matter what our conflict was, the world has changed.
The demand is higher, but the number of competitors and those
ruthless capitalists also rises. As a result, we've become small
construction companies even though we used to thrive."
Pakorn sighs and says in a low tone, "Aren't you afraid at all,
coming here?"
"Well, a little. But I need to ask for your mercy to save my
company."
"What a sweet talker," he says, his lips curling up in disdain.
"That was why Pran went off the right track."
"It wasn't the way I talk. Pran was a reasonable person. He
taught me about lots of things," I correct, smiling unconsciously while
recalling the time we were together during the college year. He
nagged at me every day, but it was my happiest time. "He was
composed and hardly spoiled me, but he had this soft side behind
the cold fa็ade. Pran is kind. You raised him really well."
"Pran never showed any sign that he swung that way."
"Neither did I. I'd never thought I'd fall for him this hard. I felt at
ease when we were together. One thing that worried me was that he
didn't take good care of himself. Every time he worked on his project,
he'd go all out and stay up all night. He wouldn't eat if I didn't force
him to and wouldn't sleep if I didn't beg. And, when he seemed to be
very stressed, I have to drag him out to do something else so that he
could relax himself for a bit. That’s why I want to take care of him as
much as I could"
 I look down, realizing Pakorn wouldn't want me to take care of
his son.
"But it turned out he was the one taking care of me. I became
more mature and thoughtful because of him."
"More mature? I heard you ran away from home."
I laugh. We're now talking about a totally different topic, yet the
air feels less tense. I don't look at Pakorn's eyes, but I can tell he's
happy to hear me share all the good things about his son as if he
couldn't be more proud.
"You're right. I was rash and impetuous. I take this reckless and
self–willed personality from my dad." I press my lips together. "I gave
up and went back home because Pran reminded me that being
stubborn wouldn't justify our love. I would only emphasize how we
were blinded by love. I ended up resenting him for not running away
with me. By the time I understood his intention, I've lost the chance
to thank him."
"You're just like your father," the middle–aged man chuckles,
eyes locked on his fingertips. "Nui is stubborn and listens to no one.
Plus, his wife never warns him and keeps indulging him."
"Yeah, that's my dad. Luckily, I had Pran."
Unluckily, I had him. It's all in the past. The president turns his
gaze from his fingertips to me.
"I really wanted to kill you for influencing Pran that way. I even
once talked about his mom about how our son never had a
girlfriend."
"That's right. I never thought about how Pran had always been
single."
"Ha," he sighs, closing his eyes. "Does your dad know about
you coming here?"
"He's a headstrong old man. I can't let him know," I laugh
bitterly and clear my throat, getting back to the point. "There's
another thing I'd like to discuss. I've worked with my dad for half a
year now. I got to deal with only a few project auctions. But, I noticed
both our companies lack an advantage in some situations. A joint
venture, for instance. We sometimes had to cooperate with
incompetent companies, which led to failure. I'm not speaking as a
businessman, so my words might not be fancy. Still…I believe that
deep down, you know what we have lost."
Pakorn stays quiet. His action reminds me of Pran so clearly.
Whenever I asked him to do something against his will, he wouldn't
yield instantly. Instead, he'd go silent to ponder it before making
decisions.
If children copy some of their parents' personalities, I'm not
surprised that Pran is such a passive–aggressive guy.
"If I misunderstand, please give me advice. I'll be taking over
my dad's business soon, so I need to learn more from the
professional."
Pakorn taps his wrinkly fingers on the glass table, gazing at me
scrutinizingly. Compared to my dad, he's much calmer.
He also seems to open his heart a little bit more now that I've
politely approached him, unlike my old self.
"Judging from your past behaviors, I never thought you'd be so
well–mannered."
My family would burst out laughing if they saw me now.
It's similar…to the time no one would believe how I became a
fool for Pran.
"I'm sorry for how I behaved towards you."
Pakorn doesn't accept my apology or dismiss it. He stays quiet,
as imposing as ever. Nevertheless, I sense some changes behind
that calm expression by instinct.
"I'll think about it."
"You can increase the price."
"I can do that?" He guffaws and grins derisively. "You didn't
gain much profit from your previous project. Your company undercut
the price to the point you almost had to add your own budget."
"Our situation is probably the same as when SR Corp. needed
to take unprofitable projects to maintain the company during the
economic crisis." I smile. After some research into SR Corp. and
their turnovers a few days ago, I kind of understand their situation
back then. "If my dad wasn't so keen on obtaining only the highly
profitable projects, he would've gotten more jobs."
 Pakorn scoffs. "How unfortunate for P and P to have a stupid
leader like Nui."
"People feel like they don't have choices under stress. My dad
must've been like that."
"And so, he blamed others." Pakorn barks a jeering laugh.
Obviously, with my dad mentioned, the president of our rival
company becomes coarse. "He sent someone to mess with our
business for years before retreating. He was so drowned in his
grudge that he failed to improve himself. If he didn't cling to that
woman's skirt, he would never have gotten back up."
I press my lips together. His voice is full of resentment. "In the
end, he sold his son to repay her."
"I'm sorry for the past."
I admit defeat, swallowing my pride. Since I don't talk back,
Pakorn softens down as if realizing everything he said was the
consequences of the past. He looks at me, not affectionately, but
rather thoughtfully. "You're more mature than the last time I saw
you."
"As I said, I'm lucky I got to love Pran."
"You said you love him, but you'll be married soon."
"Yes." I press my lips tight, overwhelmed by some kind of
indescribable feeling. The room turns silent for a long moment with
the topic unrelated to work brought up. I'm sure we're thinking about
the same person. "Can I ask you one thing about Pran?"
"What is it?"
"Is he doing all right?"
"Yes, he began a new life. Many things changed. I'm grateful
for your admiration for Pran. Well, those disgraceful actions, think of
it as a period of wild youth. Start anew. By the way, I wish happiness
for your marriage."
Upon hearing this, my politeness turns into pain. Something in
Pran's dad's heart is unwavering. It's still there, the belief that my
relationship with his son was temporary and unreal.
"If someone can actually find happiness out of this, it will be the
elders who prefer things to go according to the rules they set up."
 I smile with all the agony and suppressed suffocation before
meeting Pakorn's eyes, exposing the truth I've kept for a long time.
The pain of my heart being crushed alive.
"As for the wedding, I take no pleasure in it. But if it can satisfy
everyone, then I have no choice. Kids are born to repay their
parents, isn't that right?"
I drop my gaze as my eyes feel hot.
"Because in the end, both Pran and I were hopeless and forced
to accept the fate we didn't choose…Please excuse me. I've taken
too much of your time."
I say goodbye and step back before my tears can drip. I
recently discovered that I'm as sensitive as if I'm in adolescence.
Just by thinking of someone, my heart clenches so hard it's going to
break.
I look into the eyes of the president of SR Corp. He returns my
gaze with some meaning in his eyes.
It's deep and incomprehensible to me…
 | SCENE THIRTY–ONE |
Pran | talk

One thing I've discovered in the country where no one knows

me, where the temperature is way lower than my homeland, where
everyone I meet is tall, white, with light–color eyes…is that I'm pretty
good at hiding my feelings.
I laugh when someone plays a joke. I talk and smile just fine. I
sleep throughout the night. I eat well to nurture my health. I do
everything a human is supposed to do.
Though my heart is no longer in my body…
Ever since I came here, I developed two strange habits. First, I
usually wear a watch showing the time of the different time zone and
look at it regularly, thinking of the person in another continent.
Second, I became a screwy guy who can't sleep without cuddling or
clutching that stupid, shabby plush.
Knock, knock.
"Pran."
I look away from 'Fragrant' and put it beside my pillow before
getting up to open the door.
"Yes, Pong?"
"Rita made us an apple pie. Come out to eat and chat with me
a bit, will you? You can't be cooped up in your room on the
weekend."
The third person mentioned is a British woman living next door.
Since she loves cooking, she often shares her food or desserts with
us. She's still practicing, though, so the desserts are burned on the
edges and the dough isn't cooked sometimes.
"Okay," I reply and head to the couch. A plate of apple pie
gives off a wonderful aroma from the table. Pong passes a soft
blanket to me when I've seated myself. I cut a piece and put it in my
mouth. She nailed it this time. It tastes pretty good.
"Pran."
"Yes?"
"You've been here for months. How are you feeling?"
I raise my eyes to meet my cousin's gaze, knowing he's aware
that I have some problem back in Thailand. Pong is too nice to ask
me even though I've become usually dull and quiet.
"I'm fine. I started to get used to it."
"Really?"
"Yes. Why? Do I look unhappy?" I laugh, trying to be cheerful.
"Yeah." Pong has none of it. "You look unhappy."
"I'm fine."
"I didn't want to ask because it doesn't seem like you want to
talk about it. But it's been months," Pong says calmly and looks into
my eyes. "I'm worried about you."
"…"
"You can tell me about your problem. Did you fight with Uncle?"
"What did my dad tell you?"
"Nothing. He just told me to take care of you and not to spoil
you too much."
"Yeah…?"
"But I could sense his disgruntlement. Have you called your
family since you came here?"
"I have." But not with Dad. "Mom calls me once a week."
"Didn't you catch up with Uncle?"
"No."
"See? You're being stubborn again."
"I am stubborn, Pong." I laugh. "Yet I still had to come here."
"Well, you're quite passive–aggressive. This pair of eyes shows
no compliance."
"I'm not always aggressive. You know nothing."
Pong smirks and pats my head. He's the only one that makes
me feel like I can speak my mind to.
"What do I not know? Tell me."
"Do you remember Pat?"
 "Pat?" The older guy lifts his eyebrow and goes quiet,
searching through his memories. "The kid next door that threw sticks
at you."
"Whoa, that was ages ago."
He laughs and nods in amusement. "You two tried to climb to
the highest point of the tree and ended up falling."
"Pong…"
"All right, all right. I remember him. So what?"
I press my lips, eyeing him, then I sigh when he raises his
eyebrow one more time.
"Hmm?"
"Well…"
"What? Why are you hesitant?"
I plan to confess, but now that I have to say it, the words just
won't come out.
"Hey, your face looks so serious."
"Well…Pat and I were in love."
"In love?" Pong repeats my words, confused. "Didn't you two
hate each other?"
"We used to."
"And?"
"Then we didn't."
Pong goes still, and so do I. No one says a thing. It looks like
he's mulling over something, then his brow furrows. "What kind of
love is that?"
"Love is love. I wouldn't use this word with a friend."
"All right, I got your point. So you fought with Uncle about this?"
I nod with no further explanation.
Pong sighs this time. He leans against the backrest and
massages his temples. See how troubling this is? And I'm strong
enough to keep the smile on my face.
"Did you talk with Pat?"
"We said goodbye to each other."
"Huh? You two broke up?"
"We didn't say it out loud, but I guess that how it is," I utter,
dropping my gaze. My eyes must be red.
 "Are you okay, though?"
"I am."
"Then why are you crying?"
I touch my eyes and see that my tears are already dripping.
"I…"
"Don't deny it when you are obviously crying."
Pong is always quick on something like this. "I'm not denying it.
I was going to say I'm all right." I wipe my tears and laugh to myself.
"I've been through worse."
"Have you?"
"I wish I hadn't."
Pong looks at my face. We hold each other's gazes, and I avert
my eyes first. I don't want to be such a crybaby.
"Pran…" He calls my name and touches my shoulder with his
warm hand. "You can cry. I won't judge."
"It's all right." I shake my head and brush my tears away. "I just
don't understand why they hate each other so much."
"…"
"At least I wouldn't have to sit here without a clue like an idiot."
"It happened before you were born," Pong mumbles. He looks
troubled, like he wants to say it but not at the same time.
I frown and lock his gaze, my heart beating strangely fast. "You
know…? You know what happened?" All those things I don't have a
clue about.
"I…know some of it," Pong admits, looking away. "My parents
told me."
"Pong," I call his name, move closer, and tug at his sleeve. "Tell
me. Tell me everything."
"But it's…"
"At least let me know why I have to go through this."
Pong quiets down when I cut in before he could finish the
sentence. We lock our eyes until Pon sighs yieldingly. "It's about the
business."
I nod in earnest. When Pong finally starts, I listen carefully with
my eyes fixed on him.
 "I don't know the details, but I know that family has been
running the construction business since the days the grandfather
was still alive. They were one of the top companies back then and
only received big projects. When your family moved there, no one
knew a thing about each other. They only found out they ran the
same kind of business when they met. That was when the opposition
formed. They started to fight after several auctions. It got worse
when your family won all the auctions."
"Did we rob them of the opportunities?"
Pong shakes his head. "This is business, Pran. In this game,
the smart one with a high budget and good backup wins."
"…What happened next?"
Pong sighs again. He smiles a little and shakes his head
slowly. "This is all I know. I'm not sure if it's all true. You need to ask
Uncle yourself."
"Yeah…" I murmur and look at my hands.
"Do you love him so much?"
"Of course," I answer, the face of that person popping up in my
mind. I miss him like crazy. I want to hear his voice and see his
face…I want to touch him so terribly. "Much more than I thought."
"Why did you give up, then? You'd never been an obedient
one."
"That's why I told you I'm not always aggressive. This matter is
too troublesome. It affects lots of things."
"And Pat also gave up? I remember he was pretty hasty."
"He gave me a call and asked me to run away together."
"Seriously?"
"Not funny." I knit my brow, eyeing the person who smiles
despite the shock. "He might've been hot–headed and reckless, but
who would've thought the reasonable guy like me would want to
dash out and run to him at that time?"
"Why didn't you?"
"If only it was that easy. You know it."
"I know. I know what you think." Pong rests his hand on my
head. I cry again because of his words. "Good boy."
 I shake my head, still smiling weakly, letting the other guy
stroke my head. I mumble in my throat.
"I'm not happy at all, being a good boy."
Every night, when I've finished my business, I'd rest my back
on the bedhead, put a pillow on my lap, and place my laptop on it to
keep myself updated. I don't have trouble sleeping. I just want to
know how someone is doing. If we can really check who views our
profile the most, I'll be the top viewer of Pat's profile in a day. The
photo of his engagement ceremony is still on the timeline. It hurts
whenever I see it, though I know his smile is unnatural in the picture.
We've known each other for years, so it's impossible to not notice.
I scroll down and see the photo his only sister tagged him. His
hair got longer than the last time. He's reading something, looking all
serious. This expression is rare to be seen. My longing for him wells
up again. I touch the screen with my fingertips and circle the facial
structure I haven't seen in person for months.
My heart clenches at the thought of him hugging and kissing
someone else. I wish I could replace the pillow on my lap with his
head. I wish I could turn back time so that we can hold our gazes
and embrace each other as we lie down, breathing and touching
each other's bodies like we used to do.
I hold the tears brimming my eyes when the message
notification rings with Par's name displayed on the chat box below.
Par Napapha: Are you still up?
I smile, feeling better to talk with someone close to Pat. We text
each other only once in a while because of our different time zones.
The chance only comes when I stay up late.
Parakul S: Yeah. I'll be up for a while.
Par Napapha: Isn't it almost dawn there?
Parakul S: Not sleepy. How are you?
Par Napapha: I'm all right. How about you?
Parakul S: Nothing exciting.
After the reply, it shows that Par is typing something. The sign
disappears and reappears like she's typing and deleting it over and
over again. And so, I decide to start.
Parakul S: Is he…
 Parakul S: doing well?
Par Napapha: Probably as much as you.
Par Napapha: You two seem to have mutual feelings.
I laugh because this cheeky girl is as witty with words as well
as her brother.
Parakul S: What a great choice of words.
Par Napapha: Don't you miss Pat?
Parakul S: I do.
Parakul S: Why wouldn't I?
Par Napapha: Won't you come back?
Since I'm speaking honestly, Par has stopped hesitating to
mention Pat after typing and deleting her words. Her messages keep
popping up.
Par Napapha: I feel sorry for Pat.
Par Napapha: He doesn't look okay. He seems fine on the
outside, but it must be a mess on the inside.
Par Napapha: You're the same, right…?
Parakul S: I'm fine. Take care of Pat, okay?
Par Napapha: You're as stubborn as ever. I wouldn't know if
you're crying as we talk.
I read her reply repeatedly and take a deep breath to prove her
wrong. I sometimes hate my own stubbornness.
Parakul S: I'm going to bed.
Parakul S: Please take care of Pat for me.
Par Napapha: Goodnight. Take care of yourself as well.
I read her reply and close the screen without responding. I lean
my head against the bedhead and stare at the white ceiling in a
daze, letting my thoughts float away, reflecting on my own feelings.
No matter how long time has passed, my feelings for Pat never
decrease.
The strangest thing in this year just happened. I frowned and
pressed my lips together with pressure when Pong left his phone in
my hand with a sentence, 'It's Uncle.'
My eyes are locked on the phone for a while, then I muster up
my courage to put it to my ear and say, "Yes?"
 [Pran.] His voice sounds the same, not different from the last
time I heard.
"Yes?"
[How are you? It's been a while.]
I frown even harder, listening to those unexpected words. I
never thought he would call me to ask about such a simple thing.
"I'm fine…How are you?"
[Um…I'm good.]
"I see."
We both say nothing after that. We haven't talked for months,
yet we have nothing to say now that we've got a chance. It's all
awkward. I ball my fist and move my thump nervously, trying to come
up with some topic. Dad, however, speaks first.
[I saw Pat the other day.]
"…"
[To discuss work.]
"I see," I press my lips tightly, wondering why he brought it up.
[He met up with me pretty often lately to offer collaboration.] My
dad chuckles. [The kid seems all right, but I'm not so sure when I
think about his father.]
"Yeah."
[He's more mature now. We can have proper conversations, to
my surprise.]
"…"
[I just learned that the brat next door is good at his work.]
"…Yeah," I repeat my word, hesitating to ask about something
that has been bothering me since yesterday. But since the silence
drags on longer than it should, I decide to voice it. "Dad."
[What?]
"Can I ask you something?"
[What is it?]
"Can you tell me what happened between our family and
Pat's?"
[Why would you want to know that? Don't bother yourself with
such a thing. I don't want to talk about it.]
 "You won't let me know even when it affects my life in every
aspect?" I inhale deeply. "When it's the reason why I was sent
here…?"
Dad says nothing for almost ten minutes, but I'm willing to
wait…without rushing him, letting him weighing the options.
[P and P was a famous construction company in those days.]
He starts soon enough. [All the big projects belonged to them. It
could be that they received most projects from politicians, so they
had decent supporters and large budgets. When I started up our
company and found out our neighbor owned P and P, I simply
thought it was such a coincidence. We consulted each other often
and occasionally exchanged information. Knowing them better, I
could tell they had many weaknesses. Especially during the
economic crisis, they couldn't make money, facing the financial
bubble. Their company was eventually out of the list of bidders.]
"And we got all the projects…?"
[Not all.] Dad heaves a sigh. I could sense the exhaustion in his
voice, realizing how old he's gotten. [Later, they came to us to
borrow money.]
"Pat's dad?" I furrow my brow, unable to imagine it. "Borrow our
money?"
[Yeah, for millions.] Dad's voice gets darker, vexed. [How could
anyone lend them money during the economic crisis? Their relatives
couldn't help them, and we weren't even close. They also had no
guarantee. Besides, our family suffered from the financial bubble as
well. I admit we had to secure unprofitable projects and use our own
budget in order to monopolize future projects. We were in a risky
situation ourselves. It was impossible to lend them money.]
"Then why do you have to hate…"
[I didn't start it.]
"…"
[The losers couldn't accept that they messed up and blamed us
for their predicament. They were no different from blockheads
unable to accept reality.]
I press my lips and swallow. Dad's voice sounds more tense
and serious than ever.
 [Low on budget, they secured no jobs. Their success turned
into failure. They cursed at us when we refused to lend them our
money. There were ways to solve the problem, but they chose to
send someone to ruin our business. They even exposed us that we
ran an unfaithful business, that we were so deceitful that we
destroyed a good company.]
This gives me a headache. I quickly process the rough
information. My head hurts even more as I've finally come to a
conclusion.
"They exposed us…when they did the same thing?"
[Yeah.] Dad chuckles. [It's the way things are in this industry.
No road with rose petals for you to walk through. I've lost so much to
be where I am. Do you understand now why our relationship with
that family is unmendable?]
"But can you forgive them…? Can you forgive Pat?"
[We've resented each other for years. I don't think
reconciliation is an option.]
"…"
[I wouldn't care much if they hadn't sent someone to ruin us.
Who told them to attack us first?] Dad sighs deeply. [Well…They've
suffered enough. All I can do now is not meddling in their business.]
"Dad..."
[What is it?]
"Are you tired?"
[Of course.]
"I'm sorry."
[…If you feel guilty, you just need to become the same old son I
had.]
"I've always been the same old son of yours."
[Forget your mistake and start anew. Live like other normal
people.]
It seems like Dad is talking about Pat and me. At that moment,
I feel this bitter lump in my throat. "I never think of myself as not
normal."
[I don't get it. You never swung that way.]
"I don't get it as well."
 [Then don't invest your mind in it. Just forget about it. You're
still young, Pran. So is Pat.]
"This is not about age, Dad. Even years after this, I'm sure I will
never look down on my feelings as a youngster's mistake." I press
my lips together, holding my tears. "I'm sorry…for unable to control
my heart."
[…]
"…"
The conversation halts just like that. No one says anything
more. It's so quiet that we can hear each other breathe. Finally, Dad
speaks.
[Pran.]
"Yes?"
[Are you happy?]
The sudden question surprises me. It's an easy one, but I have
to think about it for minutes. At last, I answer him with a question.
"…Do you want me to be happy?"
[…] He goes silent for a moment. I release my clenched fist
and breathe more slowly.
[Get some rest. Let's talk later. Take care of yourself and be
good to Pong, okay?]
"Yes, you too."
[…I want you to be happy.]
Dad ends the call, leaving me with some strange feeling. I don't
know if I'm glad or sad. The heat and blurry vision make my head
empty.
I glance at my watch. It appears to be an appropriate time for a
phone call, so I grab my phone again and select the number of the
person I can never forget. I run my eyes over the number before
mustering up my courage to press call. My heartbeat quickens
frighteningly. I listen to the constant waiting tone.
In the end…No one picks up.
 | SCENE THIRTY–TWO |
Pat | talk

After a conversation with the president of SR Corp. with the

basket of fruits, we could pinpoint the problem and solve it perfectly.
That is, if the final person to sign the offer to our partner won't cause
a commotion in his own house.
Actually…I already expected it.
Furious, Dad screams in the office separated from the living
room. I lean my back against the deep–black leather cushion,
tapping my fingers together as the document are thrown and
scattered on the floor before me.
"What the hell is this joke, Pat?!"
"It's not a joke," I reply, shrugging. I collect the document and
put it on the table. "This is a win–win situation."
"They're going to laugh at us. Ha, they'd think we were so
incompetent that we couldn't bid for the project or continue our
work."
"They also lost money for nothing. Be aware of the day and
age, Dad. Businessmen don't necessarily have to be rivals."
"You know nothing."
"I don't know about the past nor think I need to. I care about the
present and the future. You should calm down and think about how
your grudge towards SR Corp. doesn't benefit us in any way. Look
around. Alliances make businesses grow these days."
"Don't pull that new age thing on me. You still want the son of
that family to be your wife, huh?"
"You know what? I was so afraid to be kicked out when I met
up with Pakorn. But now I know who the stubborn one is."
"Pat."
 "Mom said you treasured this company. You know we have a
problem, and the economy right now isn't the best. I'm trying to make
things easier for us."
"You careless brat!"
"Or would you rather save your pride and watch your company
tumble down in front of you?" I say, sighing. I can feel the enraged
glare on me. "Why don't you come up with a solution, then? You
assigned this task to me because you couldn't find a better way out,
isn't that right?"
"Have you no shame? You think your decision will benefit us?
We can't trust those snakes."
"There are no snakes. We both love our own companies.
You're the unreasonable one who blamed others!" I put my palm
over my face. I really take this stubborn side from my dad. I've tried
to find several methods and even confronted our rival despite not
being welcomed. They yielded and agreed to the offer at last, yet the
most challenging obstacle isn't SR Corp but the P and P president
who claims to love and cherish his company. "No more discussion.
Just sign the offer and leave it in your office. I'll take it tomorrow
morning and proceed to work."
"Pat! We're not done here."
"I'm in charge of this as assigned by you, and this is my call.
Well, you can take care of the matter on your own if you think your
decision will save the company Grandpa founded, not your pride. But
if you insist on blinding yourself with your past cowardice, I won't
meddle. The company can go bust for all I care. I'd love to see that."
I spin on the chair and leave the room. I could stay composed
for some time, but then I lost my cool the second my dad mentioned
the person who has a significant impact on me.
He can curse at me all he wants…but Pran is off–limits.
I heave a sigh and descend the stairs. I hear the stomping
sound following behind before my shoulder is yanked by the person I
just had a fight with.
This is totally normal. Whenever one of us opens our mouths, it
never ends well. The best way to avoid fighting is to keep our
mouths shut. I usually chose that option to resolve conflicts, but not
this time.
"Don't act out and walk away from me like this! What did you
talk to him?!"
"I had a business discussion with him the way businessmen
are brave enough to do."
"Are you saying I'm a coward?"
"How do you describe the person who got so stuck in the past
that he can't move forward? I'd say he's afraid to admit his mistake."
I pant. We both seethe with rage. "Didn't you say you love this
company? Then why don't you try to improve it?"
"Improve it? You think your decision can improve our
company? You're just using this excuse to become a gay. How can
you be such a selfish brat?!"
"Selfish? Who's the selfish one here? Am I the selfish one?!" I
swat his big hand off my shoulder and scowl at him. I sacrificed
everything, yet he sees it as nothing. I stare him down. "We know the
factory can't rush the production process. With the specification the
project requires, are you willing to be charged instead of lowering
your pride? You know that company can double the price or refuse to
sell the products to us. And your pride will fuck us all. Both
companies could face the worst scenarios, so Pakorn chose to take
a step back. But look at you still acting like a nutty geezer!"
"Don't give yourself too much credit!"
"Do you know why I'm different from you? I've never taken
credit or blamed others for my mistakes. It's easy, isn't it, to say
you're white and the others black when everybody knows what
actually happened?"
The middle–aged man glowers at me, clenching his jaw. I'm
just as aggravated.
"What is all the fuss?" The middle–aged woman paces into the
hall. She looks worried, seeing Dad and me staring daggers at each
other. "What's the matter? Why don't you two keep it down a bit?"
"Look at your son. What a disappointment. Did we raise him to
be a troublemaker?"
 "I admit I used to be a troublemaker, but now I won't let you
accuse me of something I didn't do."
"Oh, yeah? What are you doing, then? Your mind is full of that
family. You're trying to trade our company as their pawn for their
horrible son."
"I'm doing everything for our company."
"That's just an excuse."
"Enough! Stop saying that," Mom cuts in and presses her lips
together, her eyes gleaming. She looks at me before pulling Dad's
arm and dragging him upstairs. "I think you need to calm down."
"How can I calm down? Do you know what Pat did?!"
The bigger person shakes her away and turns to face me. The
situation is getting worse. My broken heart is being crushed again
under his feet.
All of my efforts…
In the end…he still thinks I never do anything for others.
"Who's the one being selfish?"
My voice is calm as I painfully gaze at Dad. This hurts more
than cutting my wrist over and over. It's like what I've been doing
means nothing.
"After all this time, I've never once made you feel like I'm
sacrificing myself? Even if both of you have treated me like I don't
have my own life, I let you. I'm working even though I'm not ready. I'll
be marrying Punch despite not loving her. Do you think it's easy for a
gay to marry a girl just because we're a good match?!"
"Don't talk like that. I forced you to do all of this for your own
sake, but you betrayed everyone. How ungrateful!"
"No one does anything for me! Everyone blamed me. You all
punished me then said you felt sorry and pitied me. But you still let
me shoulder everything alone and made me hide my heart in the
dark corner. You're killing me slowly by lying that what I'm
experiencing is love and your goodwill for me."
A teardrop rolls down from my left eye. The silence is
deafening. Mom shakes her head, but I continue as if my patience
has vanished.
 "Look at me without your own set of standards. I'm no different
from a beaten dog on the verge of death that has to lick his own
wounds and come back to serve his attackers just because they
raised him."
I press my lips tightly and drop my gaze, another teardrop
falling.
"I came back to do what you want and try to understand your
past, yet this is what I got in return. I'm being labeled as an
ungrateful child just because I can't be the person you want me to
be."
"Pat…"
Someone cuts in after I've said those words. The person
affected by all of this stands in place, clenching her fist. Her eyes are
red, with tears flowing down her cheeks.
I'm not sure if Punch heard my true feelings.
"Punch, when did you come?"
The big, round eyes are downcast. Her tears keep falling down,
but no one says a word to clear up the situation. Punch forces a
smile. It's the worst smile I've ever seen from her.
"Not as important as what I heard." She meets my eyes and
presses her red lips together. "Is it all true?"
"I…" The words are stuck in my throat. I can tell by her sad
eyes that she won't believe my lie.
The evidence is how I never crossed the line in the past
months.
"I used to think you just needed time. I got it now. I'm sorry for
stepping into your family's mess and making it worse." She wipes
her tears with the back of her palm, stifling a sob as best she can.
My legs go stiff and my throat is dry. "As for the marriage that our
families believe is a good thing, I'll talk to my mom. I'm sorry for
realizing it too late."
"Punch, I…"
"And please don't come to see me or visit my house for a
while," Punch says firmly. Now that she needs to be strong, the kind
and gentle Punch shows her incredible strength. On the other hand,
I'm so weak that I can't even bring myself to apologize.
 The world of the girl is shattering.
Punch takes off the engagement ring, shoves it in my hand,
and leaves immediately. The house is now devoid of the quarreling
sound. I hear footsteps behind me. When I spin, Dad flings his hand
towards me. But Mom raises her hand to stop it.
"Enough!"
The voice is shaking yet powerful. Dad's eyes widen a little bit.
So do mine, as I've never thought Mom would stop him when the
situation is really messed up.
"Do you remember when we talked about our son's future? We
wanted him to get married, have children for us, and have a stable
job because we wished him happiness."
The middle–aged man presses his lips together, turning away
from me to the one speaking.
"Some things will never go as we desire no matter how hard we
try or force it to happen."
"We did everything for him!"
"Look at him now." Mom's eyes and nose redden, but she
doesn't cry. "Pat is suffering so much that he's had no idea what
happiness feels like for a long time. Can you stop this?"
With that, my mom's embrace soothes my dead heart and
makes it alive.
At least, my heart knows that despite the attempt to be strong,
deep inside, I am horribly weak.
"We've tried our very best, and so has Pat. It's time for us to
step back. I really don't want to lose him."
She protects me, uttering each word softly but with great
strength.
"Pat can be whoever he wants and love whoever it is. Whether
he's a bad or good person, he's human. He's our son."
Dad's angry eyes soften. He looks at Mom and me back and
forth in confusion. He tightens his fists before ascending the stairs
without a word.
I'm still frozen in place, with a hand stroking my back to give
me some comfort.
"It's okay now, Pat."
 "Mom…"
"I'll talk to your dad."
I fold my hands over my chest, kneel down, and bow to my
mom with utmost gratitude.
"I'm sorry, Mom."
"It's okay, dear. It's not your fault. I understand now." My mom
ruffles my hair gently, stroking it lovingly like when I was a kid. "I
understand now that my true happiness is seeing you happy."
I hug her tightly and cry.
Mom understands me.
This is enough.
In the late morning of the next day, the document regarding the
construction product dealing between P and P and SR Corp. in the
black folder is on the table in the company office. There are
conditions of the dealing that I prepared inside. It's finally complete
with the president's approval signature. I heave a sigh of relief and
call for Manop with the intercom.
"Yes?"
"Please deliver the product dealing document for me."
"Oh, the president approved it?"
"Yeah, I saw it just now." I hand over the document to the sales
supervisor. "I gave Pakorn the fruit basket in person the other day. I
should skip it for now. It will look insincere if I visit the company too
frequently. I'd like you to bring back our recent projects disapproved
because we had no joint venture. If collaborating with SR Corp. is
possible, I want to give it a try."
"You should discuss it with the president first."
"You know that if we have a joint venture as required, we won't
need to take small projects anymore. One joint venture project is
enough for this quarter."
The senior employee has a troubled look on his face. I give him
an encouraging smile, tapping my fingers on the glass table. "Come
on, Manop. I even succeeded in convincing Dad to approve our
purchase from SR Corp. Don't you want a big bonus?"
"Are you sure the president won't fire me?"
 I smirk. Dad's worry towards my past rebellious tendency is
fading away. The way he manages my duty changed entirely. I have
more power to make decisions while he constantly puts me in charge
of big projects.
"I don't think that would be the case. I'll take full responsibility."
It's as if Dad has a new way to teach me like never before.
My relationship with the company founder has slowly become
merely boss–employee.
Since the wedding that was supposed to be held in a few
months got canceled, Dad stopped conversing with me. The house
remains quiet, not different from the day I lost Pran.
The estrangement seeps through the high walls of his pride,
and in the end, he only talks to me about work. Nevertheless, he
shows no sign of resentment or disapproval like he used to do.
"He's planning to retire."
Mom says in one afternoon as I go through the big pile of
documents carried from the company in my office at home. The
glass tray clinks on the glass table. I can smell the fruit tea served
with light–orange melon on a small plate.
"I told him that we might've been too worried about you that
you didn't get a chance to live your life freely even though you've
officially become an adult long ago."
"Are you disowning me?"
"Why would you put it that way? Your dad's just upset. He
raised you, yet you couldn't meet his expectations."
"Only about my love life."
Mom nods and pats my head gently. "He wants you to be
perfect in his own way. Your dad loves you so much to the point that
it suffocates you."
"I'm not saying he doesn't love me. I understand him. I
understand him even better as I'm growing up. But the fact that I'm a
homosexual doesn't mean I'm not normal."
"That's true, but your dad grew up in a different era. Give him
some time. I even needed time to accept that my son isn't into girls
as I hoped."
 "That's one thing." I sip on the tea and put the cup down. "The
thing is, even if I didn't have a romantic relationship with Pran, Dad
would still hate that family, which harms our company."
"I told you what happened."
"That's our side of the story. We've never seriously asked about
their reasons."
Mom sighs and drags the opposite chair around the big desk to
sit beside me.
"Forget it. It's hard for your dad to be reconciled with them.
He's held a grudge for too long. You just need to give him time. The
best scenario would be him giving you permission to date the son of
that family, but he wouldn't get back along with them."
I nod in acknowledgment. With their comprehensive vision, SR
Corp is definitely a fearsome rival. "Times have changed, Mom. If
Dad loves our company, he'd better know what direction we should
head to."
"That's why he's going to retire and let you take over. He can't
force himself to get along with them. Well, at least he's lowered his
pride and stopped treating SR Corp. as an enemy."
"I won't ruin our company. I won't disappoint Dad in this matter."
I promise Mom in earnest. Even if I joined hands with Dad's lifetime
rival, I'm confident that I can maintain P and P until the end. "What
did he say about my subject in the meeting on Friday, by the way?"
"About collaborating with that family to bid for the Narai
Building?"
"Yes. I recently discovered that we gave it up since we had no
joint venture. If I can find a way to work with SR Corp, we might
succeed in this auction. The project is on an international scale. You
know that."
"He didn't say anything," Mom says softly, her hand stroking my
head with affection. "He's always planned to pass on this company
to you because you were the one that gave him the reason to live
that day."
"Are you still mad at me?"
"Since you won't change, I can only accept it. I just want you to
be a happy boy like before. Are you still drinking to sleep? I didn't
spot beer lately."
"I've cut down on it. I drink only on the days I miss Pran too
much."
Silence fills the small office. Mom exhales before asking about
my future. "What are you going to do with him if we stop meddling?"
"If Pran no longer wishes to be with me, I'll just go on like this. I
don't want to trouble him. Plus, he's such a good boy."
"Can I ask you one more thing? If you two can never be
together, will you get married?"
Again, the only sound in the room is our breathing. I watch the
steel balls on the table bumping against each other softly. "I don't
know."
"Well, never mind…It's your future. I'll let you decide. I wish all
your hopes would be fulfilled despite what I want."
We both know what true love actually is. It's the smile on each
other's faces, and Mom hopes I can smile with my mouth and eyes
like the same old Napat she's raised all her life.
I lean my face on her soft palm. Fear and loneliness eat away
at my heart, yet I feel warm. I've realized that even if Pran isn't by my
side, there's someone here to comfort me.
In the late morning on Monday, I have an appointment with
Pakorn, the founder of SR Corp., for the second time this month. I
have Manop accompany me with the document and a laptop bag
hanging on my shoulder. They welcome us in a small meeting room.
A pretty employee connects my laptop to the projection screen while
we wait for the president's arrival. When the door is flung open
again, Pran's dad walks inside alone in his black suit.
"Good morning."
I greet and receive a glass of cold water from his secretary.
Pakorn nods and sits down at the head of the table without a word.
"I went through the projects we missed or failed to bid because
we didn't have a joint venture. I think our collaboration would profit
both P and P and SR Corp., so I'd like to make an offer for you to
consider."
"You don't need to do this in person," Pakorn says, looking at
me through his glasses. "You could've just sent the salesperson."
 "That's impossible. This is a big project. I prefer to discuss it
with you myself."
"I believe your dad doesn't know about this."
"Oh, this time, he knows and doesn't oppose the idea. He'll be
retiring soon, so he entrusts me with most of the projects," I say
honestly, seeing no point in hiding it. "We're both aware of the fact
that we're doing business in the modern age. I think collaborations
and alliances will lead us to greater success. You have professional
architects while my company has years of experience in the
construction business. With these qualities in the auction document,
we're going to be an outstanding candidate."
Pakorn nods as I open the presentation file on the projection
screen.
"This is the list of projects P and P wasn't qualified to bid. On
the left side is the list of projects SC Corp. didn't bid. You also lack
years of experience with consulting engineers to meet the
requirement. P and P has the resources in this matter."
I move my fingertips to the sum of money we both lost in only a
year.
"That's some tight information. Where did you get all of this?"
"To be honest, I've been collecting all these ever since I started
working, but I didn't get a chance to suggest the collaboration with
SR Corp."
The slide display the latest job in the market, the big project still
in the offer period. I turn to the middle–aged man once again.
"If we speed things up tomorrow, I believe we both can prepare
the auction document to bid for the Narai Building project. If we
successfully obtain it, it will send both of our companies to the top
level. If we're not chosen, at least we will have more chances of
bidding for future projects. What do you say?"
Pakorn's eyes are unwavering. He gazes at the screen,
contemplating. Manop and I wait quietly to hear his decision. Finally,
he turns to me with inscrutable eyes.
"Send this file to me."
"I attached it in the email I sent you last night. I also have cc'd
Anong, your secretary. It should be in the inbox."
 "I don't have time to check the email right now. I'll make sure to
do it today. Do you think you can prepare the document and use
your connections in time?"
"I must give it a try. It's better than doing nothing."
He nods, still looking at me with the same gaze. "You seem
really mature. I guess this is why your father trusts you. By the way,
you've been caught up with work. Wouldn't your fianc้e be upset?"
"I…" I pause, then I decide to tell him the truth. "…canceled the
wedding."
The founder of SR Corp. appears nonchalant, remaining silent,
waiting for me to explain.
"My fianc้e discovered my feelings for Pran a few weeks ago,
so she called off the wedding. I didn't ask for a second chance or
anything, just letting it end this way. Forcing two people with no
feelings for each other to be together is dangerous to their marriage
life."
"Even though you don't have a chance to get back together
with Pran anyway?"
I crack a bitter smile, my chest tightening. I can't describe my
feelings with words. "If love hurts, let it hurt only me."
Pakorn nods, acknowledging my answer. He spins in his chair
and looks out the clear glass window showing the view of vast
Bangkok. No one can predict what's going on in his mind under his
calm expression. We're in a room with the only sound of us
breathing. At last, the middle–aged man speaks solemnly.
"For the collaboration, I'll consider it and my secretary will send
you the response as fast as possible." I suddenly feel relieved. At
least the situation is hopeful. "As for Pran, if you're free from any
commitment and still sure of your feelings, you can fly to England to
see him."
My eyes are fixed on the backrest of his chair. There's no
further explanation, but it feels like I just gained the key to unlock
myself from the impossible and give me hope. However, Pran's cold
action that day stops me from being overjoyed.
"I don't know if he still wants to see my face."
"Isn't Pran the one who feels unsure?"
 I frown instantly. Before I can ask, Pakorn explains. "I sent Pran
to be with Pong, his cousin. I heard that stubborn kid tried to call you,
but you didn't pick up. That's why I'm not sure if you still want to get
back together with him."
"He called me?"
Come to think of it, there was an unknown number calling me a
few days ago. I was busy with the assigned work that I ignored the
call from the strange number.
"I didn't know it was Pran."
"He must be lonely living there. If you go there, tell him I miss
him."
"Pardon?"
"I give you two my permission to date. Tell him to stop being
mad at his father. I only have one son, after all."
Lowering my gaze, I can't help but smile and hear my heart
pound. The fact that Pakorn's good boy tried to contact me despite
being forbidden makes me feel like I'll have him back.
Isn't it crazy that I'm not upset anymore about how he let go of
my hand and walked away that day because of this small action that
says he still longs for me?
"If you can make him happy, do it. A terrible father such as
myself made him suffer for too long." Pakorn leans his head against
the backrest, looking obviously weary.
"I'll complete my task and find time to deliver your message in
person as fast as I can."
Pran is waiting for me. Of course, I'm going to see him. I will
revive our withered love and make it alive again…in our hearts.
 | SCENE THIRTY–THREE |
Pran | talk

After that night, I've never given Pat another call. The last
conversation with my dad probably triggered my longing for him and
my wishful thinking, so I unconsciously pressed the number I
remember too well. I even had no idea who I was to call him like that,
what we should talk about, or what I should say. I mean, everything
is falling into place. Pat is getting married to the perfect girl with a
great personality, appearance, and status. At a time like this, I'm the
one who's supposed to disappear…
"Are you going anywhere today, Pran?"
I'm dressing up after a shower. I slide my arms in the sleeves,
put my head through the collar, and pull the hem of the shirt before
shouting the answer to Pong in the living room. "No. What about
you?"
"I'm meeting up with my friends. They changed the time to the
late afternoon. Care to join us?"
I crane my neck out of the bedroom and see Pong pour himself
a glass of milk at the countertop, already dressed up. "No, thanks.
I'm going to watch a movie here."
"I see. I'll join you to pass the time."
Pong says and follows me into my room. He sits on the floor,
leans his back against the bed, and puts a pillow on his lap while I
choose the movies kept in a plastic box.
"What do you want to watch?"
"Up to you."
"I'm staying here all day. I can choose mine later. Why don't
you pick one now?"
"I don't know much about movies. Just pick one for me."
I laugh and keep nodding before looking for the one he'd like.
 RING!
The doorbell rings a moment after I've started watching a
movie with Pong on my laptop. We both turn away from the screen
automatically.
"I'll go," Pong says and walks out of my room, leaving the door
ajar.
"If it's Rita, don't forget to return her plates. We've two of them,"
I shout after Pong, eyes glues to the screen.
"Ah…I think I'll leave now, and I might not come back tonight,"
Pong mumbles and speaks faster. That gets my attention. I turn my
gaze to look.
"Pong…" I pause since the one walking here isn't my cousin
but the person I haven't seen for months.
"You look well."
"How did you come here?" I frown and stand up in a split
second. My heart beats so fast that I'm scared it will jump out of my
chest. I clench my fists, feeling how sweaty my fingers are.
"My wifey has been gone for months. I'm here to take you
back."
"Pat…"
"Why are you still standing there? Didn't you miss me?"
"I…"
"I missed you like crazy, Pran."
I press my lips together, my eyes feeling hot, unable to pull
myself together any longer. I feel like I'm about to pout like a child,
and the best solution is to hide my face from him…
By darting forward into his embrace and burying my face in his
shoulder.
Pat holds me. We hug each other tightly, pressing our bodies
together that there is no space left. We convey our longing for one
another as our tears well up.
I missed his body temperature.
I missed his unique perfume scent.
I missed his annoying voice.
I missed his cheeky gaze.
I missed the feeling when we were together.
 I missed him so much…
"Pran."
"Um," I mumble in my throat, my eyes still closed. We tighten
our embrace, leaving no gap between us.
"Who's Rita?"
"Huh?" I open my eyes as soon as I heard the question, caught
off guard.
"I'm asking you. Who's Rita?"
"Pat, damn it." I jump when he slips my hands into my shirt and
caresses my back. "Not now."
"Answer me."
"Calm down. Get your hands off." I pull back, making his hands
slide away from my body, but I keep my hands on his arms. We hold
each other's gazes, and that shuts me up.
"Are you seeing anyone here?" Pat's voice is stern, with no
sign of playfulness in his eyes.
"Who would I be seeing?" I press my lips together before
loosening them. I drop my gaze, shy. "I've always missed you."
Hearing his soft laughter, I have the urge to tell him off. But his
next words halt me.
"The way you talk softened after months."
"Shut up."
"Let's see if your mouth is softer as well."
"What the hell…? Won't you tell me how you came here?"
"Can't I tell you after a kiss?"
"…No," I whisper not so firmly. My heart and body have
probably melted the second our eyes met. Pat pulls me close, and
the heat from his skin makes my cheeks flush. I press my lips
together to keep my feelings hidden. Only the tears brimming my
eyes show how pent–up I've felt.
"Don't cry."
"I'm not crying."
"It makes me want to cry too."
"…"
"Pran…" Pat calls my name and I close my eyes. Ever since I
flew here, I've lost count of the nights I fell asleep with his voice next
to my ear and woke up to find out that it was my imagination.
I wish I could make sure that what's happening right now isn't
the result of my repeated imagination overlapping reality.
"Pran."
I open my eyes when he calls my name again with his low
voice. My tears trickle down my cheeks when Pat is still here in front
of me, holding my hand, hugging me, and calling my name.
"…Hic."
"Whoa."
"H…Hic."
"Pran, don't cry."
His warm hand wipes my tears off my face. This is real.
This is actually happening.
"Pran."
Pat calls me louder as I burst into tears and wrap my arms
around him tightly. I press my face on his shoulder, letting my tears
seep through the fabric of his shirt. I've never thought I'd get to hug
him like this again. I've never even thought I'd get to see his face
once more.
"Pran…"
"I'm sorry."
"…"
"I…Hic…I'm sorry." I'm sorry for never doing anything for you.
I'm sorry for being so weak and making you suffer. I'm sorry…
"Sorry. I'm sorry."
Pat exhales through his nose as if laughing. He returns my hug
with his left arm, his right hand supporting my head and ruffling my
hair. "Why are you sorry?"
I shake my head, trying to stifle a sob.
"You did nothing wrong."
Pat whispers to my ear and holds me without another word. We
embrace each other like that, letting time fly. I finally stop crying after
a while, still not moving my face from his shoulder. It's not that I've
missed so much that I can't withdraw from this hug. I've just come to
my senses and feel embarrassed. Why did I break down and rush to
him like that? Ugh!
 "Pran…" Pat calls my name and presses his lips on my temple,
then he rests his chin on my head. "Let me see your face."
I remain still. How can I let him see my red, swollen eyes right
now?
"Pran."
"…"
"Sleeping?"
Sleeping, my ass… "No."
"Let go of me, then. Are you just going to hug me like this and
not looking at my face?" Pat asks. Receiving no answer, he goes on.
"I've missed you so much."
I finally yield and loosen my arms. I pull back slowly and keep
my eyes on the floor, not looking up. I jump when Pat strokes the
area under my eye.
"Your eyes are swollen."
"…" I press my lips together and raise my eyes. They widen at
the sight of Pat's red eyes. Despite zero traces of tears on his
cheeks, his damp eyelashes are clear evidence.
We hold each other's gazes, throwing away our stubbornness
and conveying our feelings without hiding. We lean forwards until our
lips touch. We stay like that before starting to grind them, moving
slowly, taking it easy. We don't rush to use our tongues, just nibbling
and taking in the feeling of our skin touching. We kiss and pull back,
then we seal our lips again. It goes on repeat.
When it doesn't seem to be enough, the person before me puts
his tongue in the gap between my lips as if asking for permission. I
simply allow him in, parting my lips to welcome the soft, damp
sensation. He twirls his tongue inside my mouth, savoring the taste
he's missed for a long time, sucking out my soul.
I can never resist him, no matter what.
"Will you tell me now how you got here?"
"By plane."
"Pat…" Still has some nerves to joke, huh?
Hearing my even voice, the cheeky guy scooches closer. "I'm
just kidding. I don't want you to make a stressed face."
"…"
 "What's wrong?"
"I thought…you didn't pick up my call because you didn't want
to talk to me anymore."
"How could that be? I didn't know it was you."
"…Aren't you mad at me?"
"I am."
"…" I press my lips tightly upon that answer. Of course, he is.
Who wouldn't be?
"But I love you more."
That makes me raise my gaze. With our eyes on each other, I
get to see the way he looks at me. My cheeks feel hot. How long has
it been since my heart beat this fast?
"I'm sorry."
"I understand." Pat smiles and caresses my cheek. "I'm sorry,
too, for acting so immature and always giving you hard times."
"Not at all…" I mumble, grabbing the fingers playing with my
cheek. "Is it okay for you to be here…? What about Punch?"
"The wedding was canceled"
"Why?" That startles me. "Did you run away here?!" My head is
now full of many terrible situations. I can't help thinking of the worst–
case scenario. Before I lose my mind, Pat pulls me back together.
"Nothing like that. Well, she found out I was gay."
My eyes go wide. "So…?"
"She called off the wedding, of course. Who would marry a guy
who's in love with another guy wholeheartedly?"
"Didn't your parents go crazy?"
"My dad blew up, but my mom helped stop him."
"…"
"Don't make that face. Nothing happened. My parents are fine
with this. Even your dad gave us permission to date. He knew I flew
here. Everything's okay now."
"…What about you?"
"Hmm?"
"Are you okay?"
"I wasn't, but I am now." Pat puts on the smile I'm familiar with.
"Quit joking."
 "I'm not," Pat corrects immediately, his voice even sterner.
"You've no idea how tormenting it was for me when you were gone.
Even though we did as we were told and sacrificed our happiness, it
made nothing better."
I press my lips together, not arguing. Everything he said is the
truth I can't deny. I can't lie that I felt okay, not when we stare into
each other's eyes like this.
"Pat."
"Hmm?"
"I love you."
Pat is clearly stunned. He turns to me like he can't believe it.
"What did you say?"
"…"
"What did you say, Pran?"
"Nothing."
"Nothing? I heard what you said."
"Then why did you ask?"
"I want to hear it again. Say it." The cheeky guy starts whining,
shaking my arms. "Please, Pran."
"I said it. If you couldn't hear it, your loss," I say, knitting my
brow. I blush so hard that I don't know how to act.
"I even fought the urge to destroy the engagement ceremony
and follow you to the airport. Don't you feel sorry for me?"
"…"
"I cut my hair for you as well. See?"
"…"
"I worked really hard. I was in charge of several successful
projects, as I told you."
I suppress my smile as Pat goes on with his endless list of
good points. I glance at his hair, which is longer now, with my own
eyes, not on the laptop screen. I touch the back of his head and slide
my fingers through his black hair. I stroke his head affectionately
before leaning closer until I feel his breath.
"Love you," I whisper, raising my gaze at him. "I love you."
"…"
"I love only you…Um!"
 Before I can finish my sentence, Pat attacks me with a sudden
kiss. He closes his eyes, frowns, and moans in his throat to keep his
emotions in check. He embraces me, fondling my back and arms so
intensely that it's hard to breathe. He steals my breath, and my heart
skips a beat.
"Hmm, Pat…"
"Let's do it." He pulls back a little and whispers on my lips with
a hoarse voice.
"Whoa…hold up. Won't you tell me everything in detail first? I'm
curious about what my dad said."
"I'll tell you later. I want to hold you," he pleads, rubbing his
nose on my cheek. "I miss you so bad, Pran."
"But…"
"My heart's about to burst."
"Pat…" Gasp!
I shudder as Pat kneads my hips. He does it so hard that my
skin must turn red.
"Wait…"
"Pran…"
"…Lock the door first."
Pat lifts his face from my neck and looks at me with such
joyous eyes, grinning. In a split second, he jumps away and takes
one long step out of my bedroom. I hear a locking sound, then he
comes back and locks my bedroom door. He now pushes my body
on the bed and gets on top of me.
I look at him and sigh…He really never changes.
We've vented the heat from our bodies, but we're still catching
our breath. Our chests pop up and down as we tangle our naked
bodies, cuddling each other. We're no different from two critically ill
patients just receiving medications, like dying fish returning to the
sea.
Pat cups my face, stroking my cheeks with his thumbs down to
my lips. The touch is so gentle that it tickles. We look into each
other's eyes and smile. He moves closer and rests his forehead on
mine.
"Pran."
 "Hmm?"
"Don't leave me again."
"…"
"Don't ever disappear."
"Pat…"
"Promise me."
"…I promise." My voice is a whisper, yet it feels firm. I reach
out and touch his cheek. "I'm not going anywhere."
We spend the night cuddling on the bed and talk about what
happened during the months we were apart. We laugh as we
exchange our stories. Listening to Pat grumbling about me living with
Pong alone, I smile at his undying jealousy. There are times when I
turn my head and Pat is already staring at me with such an
emotional gaze that catches me off guard. We keep our hands
loosely intertwined, resting our heads on the same pillow, lying under
the same blanket, and falling asleep together.
We stay together for three whole days. No matter how happy
we are, Pat has to go home eventually. Pong and I go to the airport
to see him off. I actually feel awful because Pong has crashed at his
friend's place while Pat stayed here. He let me spend time with Pat
to my heart's content. I told him it wasn't necessary, but Pong
insisted on not coming back to our place.
"I'll wait for you by the exit," Pong says once Pat has checked
in and is ready to head to the gate. "Good luck, Pat."
"Yes," he replies rather stiffly. Is he still suspicious of Pong and
me? "Please take care of Pran."
Pong smiles and nods. He pats my shoulder softly and leaves.
"Graduate quickly and come back to me in Thailand."
Those words make me turn away from Pong to him. "How do I
rush it?"
"I don't care. Just study hard and graduate quickly."
I beam and nod, taking his selfish yet tempting order. "Got it."
"I'll be waiting for you in Thailand."
"Yeah, be a good boy."
"You too. Don't let anyone flirt with you."
"I know."
 "The same goes to that damn Pong."
"Watch your mouth. He even crashed at his friend's for days
because of you."
"That's a different subject."
"Seriously. Go now. It's almost time."
"…Take care of yourself, Pran."
"You too," I smile, patting his cheek. I'm sad, though not as
much as before. "Call me once you get there." Because we can
contact each other whenever we want now, right?
Muah!
Pat smiles and suddenly kisses my cheek. I'm startled, looking
back and forth in shock.
"Pat! What the hell?!" I scold him, slapping his arm. "We're
outside."
Look at his careless smile. "I love you, Pran."
"I know," I mutter. "I love you, too…Go!" I shout over my own
reply and push his back. Pat laughs and finally gets on the escalator.
He spins and waves his hand at me all the way up, and I watch him
until he's out of my sight.
Another goodbye, yet my heart feels no pain like before.
 | SCENE THIRTY–FOUR |
Pat | talk

"The turnover of this quarter has escalated 3.27 percent more

than the previous one. Eighteen percent of the total profit came from
the art gallery in Phuket which is ninety–five percent complete. The
remaining task is to deliver the project by next week. The slowest
project is the hotel in Chiang Dao due to the transportation problem
from the storm at the beginning of the month, which cut off the road."
In the P and P meeting room on the top floor, Manop is
summing up the work progress of the last quarter on the big
projection screen. This place is familiar to me. It's been over a year
since I followed my dad into meeting rooms and became his
secretary when I just graduated, writing minutes. The chiefs of each
department are sitting on both sides, but the MD seated at the head
of the table is different now. I tap the ink pen on the table, watching
the numbers that mark the company's improvement during the past
three months with scrutiny.
"What's wrong with the project in Khon Kaen? It's not
progressing."
"The heavy rain. They can't apply cement."
"Pratin, the heavy rain existed way before our company was
founded. Can't we do anything about that? Don't we have to close
our business every rainy season, then?" I eye the responsible
people and sigh. "Go back and check if it's because of the rain or
because the inspectors didn't examine it on–site. I've received the
GPS report of the cars we lent the building contractor. Some days
they came to work at almost noon. Be strict with your workers. We
have the project in Nakhon Ratchasima coming next. Now, moving
on."
 The slide changes. My dad visits the company from time to
time to attend important meetings. He takes a position of a
consultant, but he no longer takes charge of any project. Our
relationship is slowly getting better since our last fight. It actually
improves a lot every time P and P appears to be one of the most
outstanding construction companies on the ranking list.
"Mr. Pat, you have a meeting with Ital Corp. regarding the W's
building in Room 905 at one o'clock. Mr. Danupon's secretary called
and said they had an urgent business. They will send someone else
to meet you instead."
"Okay," I say, taking the document from the older secretary. I
read the details briefly and raise the record. "I need more time to go
over this."
"The Marketing Department would like a response before one
o'clock."
"Okay. Could you tell Choo to drive my father home? I planned
to give him a lift myself, but it seems impossible now."
"Yes. Will you have lunch here? I'll order it for you."
"Order something simple, please," I say and walk into my
office. Huge piles of documents scatter everywhere. I swear I have a
maid tidy this place up almost every day. I exhale and gather some
files together to make room for the new document.
"Won't you eat at home?"
The door of the executive room is opened. The middle–aged
consultant leans on the door with his arms crossed over his chest. I
turn to look for a second before bending back down. "I have an
urgent task."
"Aren't you working too hard lately, Pat?"
"No, Dad," I deny. I think I'm doing well. "It's the nature of the
last quarter."
"Very well. Your mom's worried, though."
I nod, acknowledging his words. I look up again when the
silence takes over. There's something in the way Dad looks at me.
He never says he's proud of me or worried about how I work too
hard, but it all reflects in his eyes.
 "Choo will drive you home. I'll hurry and go back in the
evening."
"Pat."
"Yes?"
"I heard the son of that family has graduated."
I mumble a response. Dad always avoided the topic of my
relationship with Pran. However, he knows everything ever since I
flew to England to see my lover last year. We've kept in touch
through phone calls and texts, and I visited him every once in a
while. Plus, my parents never stepped in my way like before.
"Will he take his father's place?"
"I don't know. Besides, he's not coming back soon. He probably
stays there to travel for a while."
"Just don't mess things up together."
"Dad." I release the files and get up. The middle–aged man
stops in place when he's about to leave. As I fold my hands over my
chest to show him my respect, he remains reticent, as always.
"Thank you."
"I'm not happy about it," Dad says in a low voice, reserved. He
looks fed up, but it is also a gesture of a prideful man surrendering to
his only son's stubbornness and resolution. "But you've proved that
you're mature enough. Don't make me feel like I trust the wrong
person. The company isn't all about you. It's about other hundred
people and your family. If you're going to date him openly when he
comes back, I don't care. Just don't let it affect your work. You're not
a kid anymore. With all these responsibilities on your shoulders, you
can't be selfish like before."
"I know." I pause, then I say what's on my mind. "Thank you for
trusting me, Dad."
The door of the executive room is closed, and I smile to myself
alone.
I keep my relationship with Pran as simple as possible. We
contact each other when we have time and never disturb one
another during busy times. Our relationship is more mature than
when we were students. He sometimes doesn't pick up my calls nor
reply to my texts, which is absolutely normal.
 The only thing that bothers me is Pran's cousin. It's not
jealousy. I mean, as Pran and I are apart, someone there stays by
his side. I'm just a little envious that I never had a chance to take
care of Pran as much as him. Well, I know Pran won't change his
mind as long as we keep in touch like this.
I end the call after Nida informed me that Uncle Pakorn would
like to reschedule the meeting tomorrow to today at 7 p.m. at the
restaurant in the suburbs, pretty far from the company. I have to
suddenly turn on the blinker on my way home in this European car.
After I mustered up my courage to negotiate with the president of SR
Corp. in person at that time, the collaboration between P and P and
SR Corp. is slowly heading in a better direction. It's not like they
have to think of us first when obtaining projects requiring a joint
venture. Nevertheless, we're obviously one of each other's choices
to join hands and receive bigger projects.
"Par, can you tell Mom I won't have dinner at home today?" I
call my sister, knowing Mom wouldn't have picked up. Par is the
easiest to reach out in our family.
[Oh, yeah? What's the matter? You said you'd eat with us at
noon.]
"An urgent business. It's nothing. I'll buy you some snacks
later."
[At this rate, you won't even have time for Pran when he comes
back.]
My sister's playful voice makes me laugh. Par spends more
time at home during the school break. Ever since I started working, I
don't really have time to take care of her. Dad decided to buy her a
car, and she chose a tiny eco–car. She rarely stayed home for a
while after that. Despite my worry, I told myself over and over each
day that my sister had grown up.
"Of course, I'll have time for him. I gotta drive. I'll go home once
I'm done."
[All right. Don't forget my snacks.]
I promise before hanging up. The sight of the traffic in the city
makes me sigh. The big, round sun has set. I don't know if Pran is
missing me the way I am missing him right now.
 Uncle Pakorn and I have meetings outside not very often. We
sometimes meet up at restaurants at noon on busy days. If the
meetings take long until the evening, we usually have dinner with
other employees afterward. It's rare for us to make appointments to
bond or discuss undisclosed matters about unofficial project
resources.
Uncle Pakorn chose the fancy Thai restaurant. Most customers
are foreigners or familiar faces in the industry. I tell the waiter my
name, then the worker with a bow tie leads me to the other side of
the restaurant, the outdoor area decorated with a garden and
refreshing fountain. The music is mixed with the clattering sound of
cutleries. Nida has ordered the food. The menus are usually the
president's favorites, and I'd have some out of courtesy. If it's not to
my liking, I just find something else to eat after we've done with our
business.
"Would you like us to serve the food right now?"
I eye my watch. It's time. "Yes, please. Make it ready for my
guest."
The waiter excuses himself while I check the email Nida sent
me. The content is the additional details regarding the project P and
P and SR Corp. will be bidding together as a joint venture by the end
of next month. The wonderful aroma of food reaches my nose. When
the dinner is served, I raise my gaze and see all my favorites, not
Uncle Pakorn's as usual.
"Did my secretary order these?"
"Yes, sir," the waiter replies, placing each dish on the glass
table. I dial Nida's number right away, but the chair opposite me
moves first. Looking up, the person before me isn't the one suddenly
rescheduling the meeting.
"Pran?"
"Don't like the food?"
The new guy asks casually, but I catch the amusement
glistening in his eyes. His lips curl up as he sips the water.
"It's boiling hot here."
"How did you come? And when? Why didn't you tell me so I
could pick you up at the airport?"
 "It wouldn't be a surprise, then."
I tense up all my facial muscles to stop myself from grinning too
hard. I drink the water and turn away.
"What a liar…You said you'd be back at the end of this month."
"Don't lower your voice and pretend to be mad." Pran kicks my
leg under the table. Just like that, my indifferent mask falls off. Damn,
he stirs my feelings as he likes and still sees through me. "Just admit
that you're happy. You've never been reserved. Is it because you're
the MD now?"
"Ugh, Pran," I whine like I always did. I laugh and give him the
brightest smile I've ever put on this year. The owner of the name just
smiles, but his eyes show how much he's missed me without hiding.
"I'm so happy. Still, you should've told me. What's with this surprise?
What if I had a heart attack?"
"I'll give you CPR."
Pran lifts his eyebrow mockingly. I look down and laugh, then I
raise my eyes to take in his face.
"Come here."
"No."
"Pran, don't be naughty. You've already been a bad boy."
"So what? Are you sick of me?"
"How is that possible?" I'm the one going to him, as it turned
out. I step close enough to give him a hug. I hold Pran in both of my
arms. "I missed you so much. Well? Don't you have anything good to
say to me?"
"You're fucking amazing for convincing my dad to do business
with you."
"I told you about that."
"I didn't expect there would be so many collaborations."
Pran returns my hug in his seat. I bend down and put my nose
in his hair. His scent is vivid and clear. No matter how many years
have passed, it remains the scent that puts me at ease and turns me
to Pat who has nothing on his shoulders.
"I have something to discuss with you."
"What is it?"
"The company…" Before Pran can finish, I tighten my embrace.
 "Can we not talk about work right now? We haven't seen each
other for about a year."
Pran chuckles. He pauses before continuing tenaciously. "Pat,
both companies became partners despite the past conflict. Do you
also want to be a partner in another term?"
I loosen my arms automatically and stare into his eyes. Pran
smiles, not acting like this is just a joke.
"I'm sorry. I've left you here for a long time. And now that we
reunited, I'm talking to you in someone else's stead."
"Hmm?"
"Dad sent me to discuss it with you."
Without answering, I lean down and kiss the red lips that kept
saying those heart–fluttering words. I savor the long–overdue kiss
and our yearning touch. Our table is moderately secluded,
fortunately, so this expressive action doesn't make him
uncomfortable, judging from the way he responds to my kiss so
willingly.
"Get to the point. What did your dad want you to discuss?"
Pran grins and tilts his head slightly. "He'd like to know if you
want to be our partner in something else besides work."
"And what is that, Mr. Parakul?"
"His son's life partner."
We keep our gazes on each other with thousands of words
brimming inside. My eyes gleam under the light. I fight the urge to
jump for joy as my careless heart desires.
"If I'm interested, may I know the conditions?"
"If you're a good boy and behave well, there's nothing much. I
think you know what the condition is."
"Do I have to sign a contract?"
"Sorry. Same–sex marriage hasn't been legalized in Thailand.
We can only promise to our hearts," Pran says with flushing cheeks.
The breeze carries the sound of music over the outdoor area of the
restaurant, and above us are the shimmering stars. I can't help but
wrapping my hand around the nape of his neck to keep him in place.
This is unlike the playful kiss we just shared. My face comes close to
his as my heart races. I massage his cheek with my thumb and tilt
my head so that our lips are completely sealed.
"No signatures. No fingerprints. A kiss will do as a promise."
I whisper over his mouth before nibbling his lips, sucking on
them as I desire. Even though I want to give him an intense kiss, it
comes out so gentle. Pran is the same. He smiles as our lips brush.
If the past was just a nightmare, then we had woken up. If it
was God's test, then it must've been designed to let me know how
sweet love is after the bitterness and suffering.
"Don't ever leave me again, Pran." I pull back, satisfied with the
kiss. I place my forehead on his. "I've signed the contract with a
kiss."
"Okay. If I ever go anywhere, you come with me." He smiles so
widely that his eyes are closed. It's been so long since I saw this
expression of his. Pran is goddamn adorable. "Pat."
Pran calls my name and leans his face on my shoulder as I'm
still bending down and holding him in my arms. When he rubs his
head on me, I can't help burying my nose in his hair once again.
"Stay over at my place tonight." I laugh, and Pran hits my
chest. "We have a lot to catch up on."
"Wow, I thought you meant something else."
"Pervert."
"You know what I was thinking about?"
Pran keeps his flushing face on my shoulder. I won't push him
anymore. He's going to be super embarrassed half the night anyway.
"I can see right through you, Pat."
"And you love me anyway, right?" Pran hooks his arms around
my neck and tilts his head a little to kiss my cheek. It sends my
knees buckling.
"I just signed the contract to be your life partner."
"How bold."
"You know I am bold with so many things. Eat up now so we
can go home."
Pran chuckles.
"You have a lot to repay me."
 I point at his face, threatening him, but Pran is unflinching.
When I'm back in my seat and see my lover's face clearly, this meal
seems to be incredibly touching.
"I missed you so fucking much."
I say, spooning my favorite dish on his plate. Pran frowns, but
his lips curl up.
No matter how long it's been, Pran can never hide his blushing
face from me.
"Won't you say something?"
"You think there's anything you don't already know?"
"No. I'd be happy to hear it."
Pran scoops some food on my plate this time. He smirks,
looking remarkably playful.
In the night with cool breeze and the music playing as the
witness of our love and thousands of stars dying and forming in the
galaxy, the star before me is the brightest. He shines, glows, and
appears irresistibly beautiful, unlike when he was a kid.
"I'll whisper those words to you as much as you want tonight.
Happy?"
Our love is in full bloom. We've proved that it's not a sin. From
now on, whether it's out in the open or behind the scenes, we no
longer have to fake it. My face is flushing red. We fall into silence,
too shy to meet each other's eyes after those words. We're
surrounded by noises, yet I can only hear the thunderous pounding
of my heart.
And I am sure Pran's heart beats the same rhythm.
Because when our eyes meet, we laugh softly to cover our
embarrassment.
– The End –
 Turn Down the Heat
Pran | talk

According to my lifetime knowledge about a fever, I currently

have two symptoms: A headache and a sore throat. They're
disturbing my weekend that I should be able to spend doing
whatever I want. And there are likely to be the third and fourth
symptoms if I don't stop working.
"Praaaaan." I roll my eyes to the ceiling when Pat calls me from
behind. The cheeky guy, who threw off the image of the president of
his company, flings his arms around my neck and rests his chin on
my head. "Why are you up so early?"
"I went to bed early last night, falling asleep a little while after
you," I answer. I save the file and turn around. "Look at you running
in and out of my house as you pleased since my parents aren't
home."
Pat cracks a smile, unabashed. "You're finally alone. Can't you
let it slide?"
I shake my head despite my curling lips. My parents went out
of town two days ago to do business for a week. They'll probably
come back on Saturday morning. That's the reason why I've started
feeling sick. Well, I stayed up all night and used the opportunity
when no one was home and the cheeky guy left to the company to
complete my work within the weekend. I barely ate anything.
Undoubtedly, my body is protesting for something…
"What are you doing?" Pat drags a chair to sit beside me.
"Writing CAD."
"Did you get any sleep? Look at your dark circles. I'm terrified."
I snarl, "Go away, then."
"Get some rest. Let's have a meal."
"I'm almost done."
 "I'll wait here. We can take a shower together after this. Oh, I'll
go and get my clothes."
"W…" Before I can say the word, Pat darts out of my house. I
sigh and shake my head at the playful side of Napat, the president of
P and P, the one my dad once praised. Even so, I admit that his true
self—now and in the past—is a lot of help…whenever I'm faced with
problems.
"Ha, finally done," I sigh, lean my back against the backrest,
and stretch my arms after sending the file to my client.
"Let's take a shower, then," Pat exclaims and charges in to pull
me out of the chair.
"Hey, hold up. I haven't had a chance to rest."
"It's almost noon. Aren't you hungry? Just rest in the
bathroom."
I narrow my eyes. Will I really get to rest, though? "Pat, I'm
beat."
"I'll give you a massage. I promise you'll be relaxed."
I narrow my eyes again, my brow knitted. Pat remains
shameless. He'd be uncontrollably wagging his tail if he had one.
Unable to suppress his feelings, his intention is presented through
his eyes and expression. It annoys the hell out of me. I really want to
give his neck a good kick.
POW!
"Ouch! It hurts, Pran." Pat bends down, getting elbowed in the
stomach. The water splashes out of the tub from the movement. We
are in the bathtub in the bathroom of my house with me leaning my
body against his chest.
"So what?!" I shout despite my exhaustion. This greedy bastard
never listens to me. "Damn."
"Don't be mad," Pat whispers in my ears with a playful voice,
wrapping his arms around my waist tightly. "I missed you so much."
"Quit using that excuse."
"But you told me to move."
"Pat."
"Aw, I'm just kidding," He turns his head to dodge my slap and
tightens his arms, locking me in place. "Don't hit me."
 "I'm hungry."
"Wanna eat out?"
"No."
"Is there anything in the fridge?"
I shake my head. "Only some ingredients. Mom bought them
before leaving. We need to cook."
"Can you? Shouldn't I order something?"
I shake my head again and lean on him. "No."
Pat goes quiet, making me look up. He frowns, eyes on me.
When I lift my eyebrow, he puts his hand on my forehead and frowns
even harder. "You're burning up."
And that's the last thing I heard before getting carried
awkwardly out of the bathroom…
My head hurts.
My throat is sore.
My nose is runny.
My face flushes.
My body is burning as if it's about to explode.
My first two symptoms sounded trivial, but now I have six of
them. Staying up all night working with an empty stomach was bad
enough. And I even took a bath with the spoiled guy for almost an
hour. It unquestionably worsened my condition.
"…Pran."
"Um…" My eyes flutter as someone shakes my arm and calls
my name closely.
"Get up to eat and take medicine."
"Hmph," I frown, refusing to wake up. I'm about to turn my body
around when my arm is tugged.
"You're burning. If you just sleep without taking the pills and
eating something, you won't feel better."
"I don't want to eat…"
"Just a little would be fine. I made porridge."
I open my eyes to see the white ceramic bowl of porridge
topped with pepper and coriander. It looks so normal that I'm
suspicious. "You made it?"
"Yeah, I did. We're alone. Who else could it be?"
 "Will I die?"
Pat laughs. "You won't die. I tried it. It's pretty good."
Unbelievable…
Seeing my hesitant face, Pat grabs the spoon and gives
himself a bite. "See? I can eat it."
As if your taste bud can be the standard.
"Get up now."
Pat repeats and sets the bowl on the side. He leans his back
against the bedhead and lifts me up to rest my head on his chest. He
holds me with one arm and raises the spoon to my mouth. I turn
away, shy.
"I can eat by myself." I'm sick, not crippled. He doesn't need to
treat me like a child.
"Just open up. You're my boyfriend. I can take care of you."
"…"
"You must be brushing. Are you frowning?"
Getting teased, I press my lips together tightly. Pat didn't even
look at my face but still got it right. "Shut up."
Muah!
"Pat!" I yell, receiving a quick kiss on the cheek. "You'll catch a
cold from me!"
"I'm not scared."
"You have an important meeting the day after tomorrow. What if
you get sick?"
"I'm strong. Don't worry. Come on, open up."
I open my mouth to yell, but Pat just puts the spoon inside,
keeping my mouth busy. I can only huff, annoyed by this stubborn
guy. After a few bites, the phone on the nightstand rings. Pat and I
flick our gazes towards it at the same time and see Pong's name.
Before I can reach my hand to my phone, the other guy snatches it.
"Pat…"
"I'll take this call and tell him you're sick."
"I can talk."
"Not letting you."
"Pat…"
"Just eat."
 "But…"
Pat cuts me off by handing over the spoon and picking up the
call, not hearing my words.
"Yes, Pong…Pran is sick…Yeah, it's not that bad. It's all right.
I'll take care of him…Yes. Okay." Pat knits his brow harder the more
he talks. He glares at me a few times. When he's finally hung up, he
heaves a deep sigh. "Eat up."
"What did he say?"
"Nothing."
"Huh? What about…"
"Eat your food, Pran, so you can take the pills."
I pant, my breath feeling hot in my nose, unlike the cold touch
that makes me shudder under the thick blanket Pat pulled up to my
chest. Feeling the coldness rubbing on my neck, I open my eyes.
"Pat…"
"Are you okay?" I see Pat's face through my tears. I blink to rid
of those droplets blocking my vision, sending them down my cheeks.
The action makes the guy in front of me more worried. I nod and pat
his cheek.
"I'm okay."
"Okay, my butt. Your face is all red. Your body is burning. Plus,
you're panting right now."
"Stop making that face. I'll be fine after some rest. Besides, I've
told you several times to stay away. Why did you come near me?"
"I'm stubborn."
"Seriously." I shut my eyes tightly as a twinge of pain shoots up
in my head. I hear Pat call my name, yet I can't manage to open my
eyes. Seconds later, my temples are massaged gently. "Pat…"
"Don't speak. Just go to sleep. I'm giving you a head
massage."
"…How stubborn."
"How sick."
"It's because of you." My voice is hilariously soft.
"I know. I'm sorry."
I jerk my head away from his hands. "Don't massage me. I'm
going to sleep. Go home."
 "How can I? My boyfriend's sick," Pat says, climbing onto the
bed.
"What are you doing?" I scooch away.
"I'm sleeping with you."
"Leave."
"No."
"Pat, you'll catch my cold." Please listen to me. I'm losing my
voice.
"That'd be great. You can take care of me, then."
"I'd beat your ass."
Pat beams, unabashed, and successfully cuddles me. "When
you feel better, I'll let you do whatever you want."
"You're all talk," I murmur, letting him hold me so tightly that my
cheek's pressed on his chest. I don't know if I'm cold or if his body is
warm that our bodies touching feel so comfortable.
I feel so cozy that my eyes are closing down…Before I fall
asleep, the whisper in my ears puts a smile on my face despite the
splitting pain in my head.
"I'd rather be sick than leaving you alone."
I smile and snuggle up against his chest, holding Pat more
tightly and hearing him chuckle. We both know this action is body
language that means 'love' from me.
And he's the only one who understands…
 Turn Up the Heat
Pat | talk

Pran has always been a headstrong guy.

I have no idea when I've come to know him so well. But I was
right to assume that the stubborn guy who studied abroad must be
working all day and night when no one was home.
My relationship with Pran's family is getting better little by little,
even before their only son flew back to Thailand. I still need to show
Uncle Pakorn some respect, though. I'm not so bold as to act like his
son–in–law. Except for Pran, I think no one knows that no matter
how long it's been, I'm still the same Napat who always makes Pran
sigh, fed up, and in love. I can't tell which feeling outweighs the
others.
When Pran's parents are home, I can't see him as often as I
thought, even though I don't sneak in anymore. I have to find a
chance when he's home alone.
"Pran, let's wipe your body."
I adjust the light to dimly orange as I walk into the bedroom
with a basin filled with warm water. His fever is worse than before.
It's been three days and he's not yet recovered. At least the fever is
not getting worse than it has been. I'm still in my working suit with my
sleeves folded to my elbows and the pants I wore to attend the
meeting in the early morning. The only things I threw off are socks,
then I prepared the pills and dinner for Pran before I can take care of
myself.
The sick guy flutters his eyes open. He shifts a little and the
cooling patch falls next to the pillow.
"Your temperature is lower than yesterday."
Pran coughs as a response. His voice has become so hoarse
that he can't communicate with words. After taking him to the
hospital yesterday, we received a new set of pills to reduce his fever.
"Want to shower," Pran grumbles, his voice muffled. I set the
basin aside and get a napkin to wipe his nose. The sick guy tries to
turn his head away, but I've already squeezed his nose.
"Blow your nose."
"Hmm!"
"Stop fighting." I give him a look, and Pran finally yields. "You'll
feel better after taking the decongestants. Take off your clothes. You
must feel sticky all over."
"Want to shower."
"You can't," I say, lifting the hem of his shirt. Pran whines, but I
insist until he relents. After two days of sickness, Mr. Parakul has
become more obedient, unlike before.
"Have you eaten?"
"No. I'll tug you in first."
"I've slept all day," the house owner grunts, holding out his arm
be wiped by a warm soaked cloth. "I don't want to be cooped up in
here anymore."
"It's cold outside. It's even reached the dew point. Let stay in
and wait until you get better."
"But I'm bored."
"Recover soon, then," I say and climb onto the bed. I rub the
cloth on his back gently. Pran's skin is all red, but not as much as the
first day with the high fever. "You never listened when I told you to
rest. Now your body broke down from overwork. Can't help it."
"Quit nagging."
"I will, if you take better care of yourself."
I thought that Pran would stop overworking and have time to
chill out and focus on himself after graduation. It turned out he took
freelance jobs from his friends a little while after coming back and
worked on them day and night. I usually slept at my own house. After
Pran moved out at that time, I returned to my original room. And so, I
could see his light turned on at night and off at almost dawn.
"I know you're enthusiastic, Pran, but you still should save
some energy. I don't want you to die anytime soon."
 I warn him with this indescribable worry. Seeing him getting
sick like this makes me agitated. Uncle Pakorn once mentioned that
Pran accepted tons of jobs from his friends. I understand how he
wanted to use what he had learned, but he worked so hard that it
worried people around him. I talked to him about this countless
times. In the end, I had to use all kinds of tricks to make him rest.
Par used to tease me about how I wouldn't have time for Pran when
he came back, but it was the contrary.
Good thing Pran spoils me at times, though he grumbles every
time I act selfish.
"Take off your pants. I'll wipe your legs."
"I'll do it myself."
"Don't act out," I pull down Pran's elastic waist pants. "Why are
you embarrassed when we've literally seen every inch of each
other's bodies?"
The teased guy kicks my waist gently and playfully. He
shudders a little as the damp cloth touches his body. I clean his body
thoroughly while he watches my every movement. When I raise my
gaze and meet his, I can see gratitude reflecting in his eyes even
though he doesn't say a word.
"Are you tired, Pat?"
"Hmm?"
"You went out to work at the break of dawn. And when you're
back, you have to take care of me instead of resting."
I wipe his knees down to his toes and pay close attention to
them. I massage his feet with my fingers before kissing the sick
guy's left ankle.
"Of course, I'm tired, so you gotta get better soon. Got it?"
Pran presses his lips together and furrows his brow as he looks
out the window, avoiding my gaze. Now that the cleaning is done, I
place the new set of clothes down. Before I can unbutton the shirt,
Pran yanks it to put it on himself.
"Cut it out. Why the hell are you taking care of me so much?
Am I in kindergarten?"
"All right. Once you've dressed up, take medicine and go to
bed."
 "I just told you I slept all day."
"Kindergartens sure get naughty when being put to bed."
"You!"
I smile, just teasing him. I get up to bring the pills he needs to
take before bed and a glass of warm water. Pran takes them
unwillingly.
"Take a rest so you can get better soon."
Upon hearing my gentle voice, Pran stops resisting.
Ever since I've officially taken over my dad's company, the
responsibility is bound to escalate…
After putting Pran to bed in the early evening, I turned on the
lamp on the sick guy's desk to finish the work I carried here. I used
to believe that P and P was named after the initial letter of my dad's
name. But now I know it was named after me, the one who was
meant to take over the business and maintain it until the end. As for
Par, she probably won't work at our company. She gets the chance
to follow her dream like the person in a deep sleep from the
medicine's effect on the bed.
I once talked to Pran about the future and his dad's company
he refused to take part. Oddly enough, Pran was resolved about this
matter more than me.
Well, an energetic guy like Pran can never just read documents
and do investment analysis when he went abroad to study for the
profession of his choice. He's better off working in the area that
requires his professional knowledge. Uncle Pakorn complains at
times that his son doesn't meet his expectations, though not very
often. It could be that Pran is their only child, so they spoil him and
won't force him to take over the company. They might not even
expect anyone to take over the business.
In all honesty, If Pran starts up a company with his friends and
leaves his family company bankrupt, I won't be surprised. When that
time comes, Uncle Pakorn might sell the large share to his relative
who works with him. I won't be surprised by that as well.
I think this is an evident difference between Pran's dad and
mine.
 I close my eyes after all the work gives me eyestrain and
stretch my tense muscles. I hear coughs. Since it's late and cold
outside, the air for the AC gets chillier.
Pran keeps coughing until I decide to bring the muffler to wrap
around his neck.
The sleeping guy groans, trying to take it off in annoyance
before opening his eyes. I must've woken him.
"No. Take it away. It's uncomfortable."
"You're coughing a lot, Pran."
"I'm not wearing it," he insists. He turns his head away to cough
in the muffler. "Aren't you leaving yet?"
"I brought my work here."
"What time is it?"
"Two in the morning."
"Go home and get some sleep, Pat," the room owner bosses
and turns away on his side. "You know I can't get a proper sleep like
this."
I crack a small smile. It's not that I'm disturbing his sleep. He
just doesn't want me to catch his cold. He tried to kick me off many
times before. In the end, he used such a Pran way by throwing those
hurtful words at me out of worry.
"Should I just turn off the light and cuddle you?"
"No need to."
"I'm sleepy. I don't have the energy to walk home," I say and do
everything I said. I turn off the lamp, close the curtains, and rely on
my memory to get myself under the blanket on the bed. Pran pulls
off the muffler. This is my chance to slip my arm through the gap
between his neck and pillow so he can rest on it.
"Don't come close to me."
"I can't sleep without hugging you."
"I can't sleep because you're hugging me. It's suffocating."
"Well, you won't wear the muffler. If your neck feels cold, you'll
keep coughing. You're losing your voice and still being stubborn."
"I'll wear it, then."
"I don't believe you, liar."
"Pat!"
 I flip his body and press his face close to my chest. His hot
breath brushes my skin. His scolding voice is hoarse. It's kind of
sexy.
"Go to sleep. It's late. I have a meeting tomorrow in the early
morning."
"Why didn't you go to bed early?"
"I had work," I answer. I have three more hours to sleep
tonight. "Plus, I was waiting for you to call me to sleep together."
I try to kiss Pran's forehead, but he avoids me by burying his
face in my chest. He rubs his face on it and hits my back.
"I told you not to come close."
"I can come even closer."
"Pat, I feel so much better than yesterday. You don't have to
come here tomorrow."
"Nah," I drag my voice, rubbing my chin on his head. "You've
kept chasing me off since you got sick. Don't you love me anymore?"
"No, I don't love you. I hate you. Get the hell away from me."
This is why I called him a liar. Pran cusses at me with his low,
gruff voice, yet his hands clutch my shirt. I decide at that moment to
lift his chin up and kiss the overly hot, red lips, rolling his soft tongue
with mine. Before Pran can respond, I attack him by pushing him
down and getting on top.
I kiss him over and over again like a kid relishing the
sweetness of his candy.
Satisfied, I pull back. My lips are all shiny and wet to the chin
from the deep kiss.
"I said, you'll catch a cold!"
"Don't worry. Crazy people don't get sick easily."
I laugh, caressing his flawless face. Somehow I am aroused,
my lustful desire spreading over my whole body, especially down
there. Pran feels it as well. He averts his gaze when I start kneading
his skin slowly with my fingertips.
"Won't you say anything? Are you upset? If I get sick, I'll be the
wife for you, okay?"
"Who would want you to be their wife, you son of a bitch?"
 I chuckle, plopping down next to him. The room owner turns his
back to me, not facing me anymore.
"Go to sleep," Pran says. He finally stops chasing me off.
The clock is ticking every second, constantly and persistently. I
hold Pran from behind, forcing him to rest his neck on one of my
arms. I wrap the other arm around his waist tightly.
And breathe.
The silence of the night puts both of us in a deep sleep.
The sunlight in the late morning shines through the window
with the curtains drawn open to one side, making me frown. I fling
my arm to hug the person next to me and find only emptiness. The
smell of porridge fills in the air. Pran's parents might've come home
ahead of the original schedule, which is the day after tomorrow.
"Pat."
Pran's voice is raspy. I shut my eyes, dizzy, and my throat hurts
when I swallow. I turn away from the sunlight. My body aches so
much that I have to stretch to relieve my stiff muscles.
"Pat, it's already eight."
I spring up as Pran wakes me up again. I have a meeting out of
town today, so I was supposed to get up at five. I grab the phone, but
it's too late. Pran sits beside me and snatches it away to turn off the
alarm clock, then he places it down along with a bowl of hot porridge
on the nightstand. He inserts the thermometer in my mouth.
"I tried to wake you up at five, but you wouldn't budge. You
were shifting deliriously, so I turned the sound off."
Pran smirks. When I put my hand on his forehead, his
temperature is normal.
"Still worried about me, huh?" Pran laughs. He takes the
thermometer out of my mouth when it's time and points at the digital
number presented on the device. "Thirty–eight degrees. Eat up and
take medicine. I told your company you're on sick leave."
"What about you?"
"I took my pills. I feel better. You didn't believe me when I told
you yesterday."
His voice is still hoarse, though. Pran turns away to cough
before holding out the medicine and a bottle of warm water. "The pill
before a meal."
I try to utter a word, but my throat hurts too much. The
ominous, sly smile plasters on Pran's face. He wiggles his eyebrows
mockingly while stirring the porridge.
"I said to stay away, but you kept kissing me."
"I usually don't get sick."
"Ha, you are sick right now," Pran says, eyes on the porcelain
bowl that gives off the smell of soup and pepper. "Do you remember
what you said last night?"
Pran holds out the spoon of porridge that's warm enough to eat
after a few blows. I take a bite and choke when Pran says the
following words in a deadpan face.
"Get well soon, Pat, so you can be my wife."
BLARGH!!
 Passed
Pran | talk

I sigh deeply once the person in front of me has finished

speaking. I place the light blue card decorated with beautifully carved
deep blue letters on the table and run my hand through my hair in
aggravation. The big puppy raises his eyes at me. He would
whimper like a dog if he could.
"Pran…"
"Why did you show me this?" I cut him short and sip from my
glass just for the sake of doing it. The aroma of the coffee and
caffeine might help ease my mind.
"Punch is getting married."
"So?"
Pat sulks when I answer with a question despite knowing damn
well why he brought me this card. What else could it be except
asking for my permission to let him attend his ex–fianc้e's wedding?
"Come on, don't scowl at me."
"Should I smile?"
"Ugh, Pran…"
Don't use that pleading voice. Don't even get up here!
"Do not touch me."
"I'm glad to see you so jealous."
"I'm not jealous."
"If you love me, just say you do. And if you're jealous, say you
are." His words sound familiar. Have I ever heard them before?
"I'm not jealous." I'm upset because…
"Are you mad because I didn't invite you?"
That's right!
"No."
 "You're not admitting it. Why are you so obedient when I kiss
you?" Pat grins, squeezing his body on the same couch I'm sitting
on.
I turn away abruptly. "Don't act cute."
"Pran." Pat holds me close with both arms. "You know I did
Punch and her family wrong. It didn't end well. It took almost a year
for us to get back on good terms. It'd be disrespectful to them if I
brought you."
"…" I know that much.
"It'd also be disrespectful if I didn't turn up."
"Yeah." I know that as well.
"What's the matter? You're not usually like this," Pat says. He
sounds so happy that it's vexing. "I like it, though."
"…I'm fine."
I can't possibly admit that it still bugs me when I recall the time
Pat was engaged with Punch and spent time with her without me…
"What are you thinking about?"
I jump as I feel a warm touch on the corner of my mouth.
Realizing he stole a kiss from me, I pull away. "Nothing."
"Why did you make that face? Don't you know how much I love
you?"
I look at his face, fixing my gaze on his. The feelings conveyed
through his expression and eyes are real and solid.
It's been a year since the time we made up to me coming back
to Thailand. And I still have this one question in my mind. And since I
am super stubborn, I never bring it up. I'm not sure if I don't have the
courage to ask or if I'm afraid to hear the answer.
"Do you have the suit for the wedding?"
Pat smiles. "Par will prepare it for me."
"You're bothering your sister again."
"She wouldn't like the result if I did it myself. It's better to let her
take care of it."
"Yeah…"
"And you will style my hair."
My eyebrow twitches. What is he trying to look good for?
"…"
 "You're scowling again. I'll make your lips curl up with a kiss."
"Do it. I'll bite your tongue off."
"Can you bear the loss?"
I frown and jerk back a little, wary of his sly smile.
"What the hell?"
"My tongue is of high quality. You'll cry if it's cut off."
I roll my eyes, ignoring his laughter, and suddenly get up. Pat
calls my name, but I open the door and leave without a care.
I descend the stairs and find Dad resting on the couch. I halt
when our eyes meet and fidget for a moment before Dad nods,
gesturing towards the seat next to him.
"You're home today…?" I ask right after sitting down. I want to
cuss at myself for being so nervous. Ever since I came back to
Thailand, Dad and I haven't talked much. I don't know how to act,
especially right now when Pat visits our place regularly. I know they
are on good terms to the point of working together, but still.
"Yes. I felt tired, so I went home once I was done discussing
the contract," Dad says. He sips the water in his glass and looks
past me. "Where's Pat?"
"Ah…"
"His car's in front of the gate. Couldn't he park his car in his
house before coming here?"
"I'm sorry. I was in a hurry." A low, happy voice comes from the
stairs. Before I turn around, the voice owner seats himself beside
me. "What did the client say?"
"Let's talk later. There are lots of details. I assigned someone to
write a report. Read it and meet the client yourself next time."
Pat laughs and nods in earnest. Watching Pat and my dad
have a conversation, I sit in silence, feeling oblivious. I'm still
surprised by the sight of it all. It's an entirely different story from last
year when my dad cursed the guy next to me with such hateful
words. I must've missed a lot while I was gone.
"Sit here. I'll take a shower for a sec."
Pat says and disappears into the bathroom. I plop down on the
edge of the bed. This is the second time I have entered Pat's
bedroom. Ever since I came back, Pat usually stayed over at my
room. He comes in and out of my house all the time that it's become
a typical thing. On the contrary, I rarely step into his place.
Comparing Pat's dad and mine, his dad is stricter. He still refuses to
look at my face.
I sweep my eyes around. When we lived in the apartment
together, his room was messy. But now it's surprisingly tidy. There
aren't so many things in his room. How strange. Someone must
clean his room for him. That's why he can't do anything on his own.
My eyes land on a drawer hidden next to the closet. I wouldn't
have spotted it if I hadn't looked carefully. Why is it open, though? I
walk there to push it close, but my eyes catch a red paper box tied
with a white laced ribbon. It looks too sweet to be the room owner's.
More importantly, there's a message written in cute handwriting
saying, 'PP'.
What does 'PP' mean…?
PatPran?
I don't think so. Pat wouldn't do something so cutesy. It's a
waste of time to guess. I squat down, grab the damn box, and open
it. Inside are tons of photos and a pair of blue velvet boxes.
I pick up a photo. It shows Pat working at his desk and the girl,
the supposed owner of this box, wraps her arm around his neck,
holding out the camera with the other to take a sudden selfie. It
wouldn't affect me if her pink lips weren't on his cheek.
Unconsciously, I bite my lip so hard that it stings.
Again, the question arises in my mind.
Did you sleep with her, Pat?
While we were apart. While we weren't together. In that kind of
moment…
CREAK.
Hearing the bathroom door move, I gasp, shove the box in the
drawer, and close it as fast and softly as possible. I stand up and
look at Pat, who just turns his gaze to me.
"What are you doing?" he smiles, wiping his wet hair with a
small towel. "A–ha, did you do some perverted stuff alone? You look
startled."
 "Moron." Pat laughs happily. He steps closer and hugs my
waist. "Let go. You're all wet!"
"Well, you wouldn't take a shower with me."
"I'm clean since I've stayed home. You were out working all
day. You're dirty."
"I've showered. What should we do?"
"Stop joking, Pat." I seize the hand caressing my abdomen
under my shirt. "This is your house."
"No one's here. It's all right."
"You're always like this. Didn't you learn your lesson?"
"My parents don't mind us anymore. They won't come in here."
"…Pat."
"Hmm?" he mumbles, kissing my neck repeatedly.
"Nothing."
"Nothing again. What should we do to make you more honest?"
Pat laughs, carrying me on his shoulder out of the blue. He paces
ahead and puts me down on the bed, then he gets on top of me and
kisses my lips immediately. It all happens so fast that I don't even
have the chance to cry out.
"Hmm! Us–ard!"
"Shush, don't resist." Pat pulls back a little and whispers over
my lips. He seems to really be in the mood for it.
"Pat…"
"Hmm?"
"Lock the door, at least."
Pat raises his eyebrow and kisses my cheek aggressively
before leaving to lock the door. My gaze trails after him, then I turn
away. I'm not upset or anything.
At least he should have covered himself with the towel he'd
thrown away before getting up!!
[Where are you now?]
Pat asks in the call. This is the third time he's called me. "You
called me ten minutes ago. I'm driving, not flying there. I can't go
faster than this."
[I miss yooou.]
"Did you do something wrong?"
 [What? I just miss you. Why are you accusing me?]
"Just wait there, then. I'm on my way."
[Hurry up, Baby Pran. Big Pat is waiting.]
I narrow my eyes resignedly. I turn on the blinker and make a
turn at the intersection. I don't know if he's afraid that I'll be mad or
something because he keeps pressuring me to pick him up quickly at
the wedding.
"You took so long." Pat starts even before his butt is on the
seat properly. Don't even think of acting cute right now. "I missed you
so bad."
"You won't get anything from flirting with me," he laughs, and I
accelerate the car. "How was the wedding?"
"Nothing much."
"How was the food?"
"Good."
"The drinks?"
"A blast."
"The ambiance?"
"Super romantic."
"Girls?"
"Loads. Hey!" Pat jumps and pinches my cheek. "You tricked
me into saying nonsense."
"You're an untamed brat. I need to check."
"Untamed? I've never bitten you. You were the one biting me…
You bit and scratched me."
"Pat!" I shout his name. The memory pops up in my mind.
Looking back to what happened on the bed last night, my face heats
up. "Shut up, or I'll kick you out of the car."
"Where are you sleeping tonight?"
"Not together."
"No way," Pat fumes.
"We were together last night. We should take some time apart."
"No."
"Why did you even ask me, then?"
"I wanted you to choose between my room and yours."
"I made my choice."
 "And it is?"
"I sleep in my room. You sleep in yours," I stress every word.
The road is empty, so I can drive at high speed. The car soars over
the long road, and we arrive at our places in no time. I park in my
spot and glance at him. "All right, out."
Pat grins. He steps out of the car and enters my house without
permission. My parents have gone to bed. I tsk and turn off the
engine. I lock the car and the gate before following my neighbors'
son to my room.
"You're such a self–willed guy," I fake–scold him after closing
my room door.
"Only to you." He smiles, embraces me from behind, and pecks
my cheek.
"Why are you so clingy today?"
"Pran."
"Hmm?"
"Is something wrong?"
"What do you mean?"
Pat puts his forehead on my shoulder, tightening his arms.
"Something's bugging you."
"Who told you?"
"Don't act like I don't know you."
"…I never do that."
"It's about Punch, isn't it?"
"…" I pause. Pat must catch it by my reaction.
"You always keep your worry to yourself. You're quiet when
you're upset. I guess I gotta solve it with sex."
"Shut your mouth."
Pat laughs, enjoying this. He ruffles my hair. "Naughty boy."
"What the hell?"
"You saw the box containing my photos with Punch yesterday,
didn't you?"
"Wh…" When did he find out?
"You face said it all. And you were in such a hurry that you
didn't put it back properly. The ribbon hung out of the drawer."
"…"
 "Par tidied up my room. I didn't even know it was there. Plus,
Punch is married. There's nothing to worry about," Pat explains,
nibbling my ear. I turn my head away. "If I could love her, I would've
fallen in love with her long ago. I wouldn't have followed you to
another country."
"I didn't say anything about that…"
"What are you thinking, then?"
"I just wonder…"
"Hmm?"
What do I do? "…"
"Wonder about what? Spill it."
"Well…" Shit, very well. "Did you…sleep with Punch?"
"Huh?" Pat stops short, his arms falling to his sides. I spin to
confront him.
"So?"
Pat looks stunned, and my heart drops. But then, he smiles
widely as if he just heard a good joke.
"Why did you say that? What are you thinking?"
"…" I'm not a tad bit amused.
"Hey, don't make that face. I'm sorry. I'll stop laughing," Pat
says quickly, coming closer to stroke my cheeks. "How could I have
slept with her? My boy only gets hard for you."
"You fucker! Watch your dirty fucking mouth, you piece of shit!"
"That was all to make you blush?"
"Who would be shameless like you?"
"That's all you wondered about, right? Tell me everything on
your mind."
"There's nothing more! Stay the hell away from me!"
"Come on, you're chasing me away now that you got the
answer. I put you at ease. Now it's your turn to ease my body."
I roll my eyes, wiping my hand over my face, sick of his
shameful words. I wish I could squeeze my nose and suffocate
myself to death at this second.
I shouldn't have worried about it, damn you, Pat!
 Mine
Pat | talk

Believe me. We can't have everything we want.

Even Pran.
Since we got back together in our working age, we didn't fight
as much as before. I don't have a specific routine or social circles to
keep up with daily. Besides my work, I give all my time to Pran like a
duckling sticking to its mother. Even my sister, who has become an
adult like a flower in blossom, can't draw my attention from Pran, the
harsh and absolutely unyielding man as seen from the outside.
I'm not wrong.
When Pran works, he's super strict, straight–forward, and
fearless. But when it comes to people, except for his parents, there
is one person he talks to in such a respectful tone as if that person is
his brother coming from the same womb.
But the fact that he came from a different womb troubles me.
"I'm hungry."
I was lying comfortably on the bed on Sunday afternoon. Pran's
parents were chatting with Pong's in the living room. His cousin, the
one he lived with while getting the master's degree, was catching up
with him in the bedroom. I saw them from my balcony while I read
the meeting agenda for tomorrow morning. As a result, I carried
several document folders to my lover's room, not giving them a
chance to be alone.
They've spent too much time together during those two years.
"My mom's going to invite your family to a meal in a Chinese
restaurant. Wanna join us, Pat?"
"I'm busy with work," I answer, flipping another page, not
meeting his gaze. Pong is many years older than Pran and me,
handsome, tall, and well–built. I'd be more at ease if this perfect man
had an official lover or something. "I'd rather eat here."
"What's for dinner at your place?" the room owner asks, but I
feel like he's kicking me off. "Why don't you go and eat at home? I'll
be eating with Pong."
"Should I leave?"
"Yeah, Pong doesn't come back very often."
I give the mentioned guy a sidelong glance, gritting my teeth. I
pull a face in exasperation. "That's your choice?"
"We can do it later if it's inconvenient," Pong says.
"No way. I haven't seen you in months."
"Do you want me to be gone for months as well?"
Pran flicks his eyes at me, sighing wearily, catching my sour
mood. "Cut it out, Pat. Don't act like a child. Go and eat something if
you're hungry. I'll see you after the meal."
"Pran."
"Hey, don't fight. I'll eat with your parents. You stay here with
Pat. We can hang out later. I'm staying for several days."
"But…"
"This is the best solution." Pong flashes a smile, showing his
white teeth. He pats Pran's head gently, and my freaking lover lets
him.
…Deep down, I know Pong is a good guy.
Yet, I can't help it.
Look at the way Pran looks at Pong as he leaves.
How irritating…
The sound of a spatula scratching the pan comes from the
kitchen separated from the living room downstairs. I sit at the bar
between the kitchen and the dining room, watching the skillful chef
moving his limps from the back. Pran wears an oversized tank top
revealing almost to his waist with a pair of casual, not–too–short–
shorts. His skin is brightly white, with some secret kiss marks I left
showing as the fabric moves.
It's scalding hot this month. I like the way he dresses, but not
when Pong is around.
 That could be the reason why I'm still sullen even after Pran's
honored guest has left.
"Fried sausages with rice and clear soup."
A meal set is placed in front of me. Mine has a more generous
portion, much greater as if he's annoying me intentionally.
"This is too fucking much."
"You said you were hungry."
"I'm a human, not a pig," I groan. When the chef pulls my plate
away, I quickly seize it.
"You talk too much." Pran sits across from me. The bowl of hot,
clear soup is set in the middle of the table. I start devouring the food.
I wasn't really hungry, just seeking some attention. "Do you hate
Pong, Pat? I noticed it many times."
"I don't hate him, but I also don't like him."
"Translate it to a human language."
"Well…" I pick at my food before revealing my honest feelings.
It might sound unreasonable, but it's been bothering me. "You talk to
him so nicely."
"Well, he's older."
"And you obey him." Pran looks up at me, then he continues
eating.
"What's your point?"
"I'm your boyfriend, but you're not nice to me as much as you
are to Pong," I admit, sighing, still munching my food. We both fall
into silence as if we need some time to manage our feelings.
"You're envious?"
"No."
"What's wrong, then?"
"Nothing." It's hard to understand. I've become pettier now that
there's someone to compare myself with.
Wasn't it Pong who stayed with Pran during his hard times?
Wasn't it Pong who saw Pran all the time when I couldn't?
"Don't be unreasonable, Pat. Pong is my older cousin. It's only
normal that I treat him politely. I can't joke around with him like I can
to you."
 I glance at him and eat without another word. The bitterness in
my heart spreads like dust. No matter how long it's been ever since
the first day I saw them check in at the same place to this visit, I still
have the same feeling.
I'm anxious.
"Will you join the meal with him later?"
"I will. If you're afraid it will steal my time to be with you, I'll go
with him while you work."
"Can you not go?"
"Pat."
"I don't want you to go. I don't want you to be together."
"He's my cousin."
Pran will never understand no matter how many times I
explain. The close cousin who was never in the picture suddenly
showed up in his life on the day he was weak. He comforted Pran
when I couldn't hold his hand anymore and got all his attention.
"Whatever."
I bring my plate to the sink and wash it. I can't stop Pran, of
course, because I'm not his Pong. Frustrated, I decide to leave, not
bugging him any longer. I'm not joking this time. It's like this paranoid
feeling returns to me whenever that man appears in Pran's life.
From Pran's point of view, this is nothing.
But from my point of view, it causes me continual uneasiness.
"Where are you going?"
"Home. To work."
"You're going to lose some documents, carrying them around
like that. My family is still your rival business," Pran cautions,
frowning. This excuse sounds ludicrous. He's just worried about the
way I act.
"I'll call you after work tomorrow."
I take my leave, giving us some space to think. It's not that I
don't trust Pran. I'm just scared when I compare myself to Pong.
Pong, who Pran takes every of his word seriously.
I spend my evening in my room until it's late. I draw the curtains
close, shutting the bridge to Pran's balcony, and focus on the new
and old documents regarding the line of business we are planning to
extend soon. Actually, I only work on the necessary matters on
weekends, especially on Sunday that I'm supposed to spend resting
before getting in the next battle on Monday morning.
It's not easy running a business.
The knocks on the door break the silence. I stand up to open
the door, and I am greeted with the person I've been upset with since
the evening, not Par or Mom as usual. He averts his eyes away. "I
saw the light is on, so I heated the milk for you."
"How did you get here?"
"I walked in. Par's not asleep," Pran answers casually, carrying
a plate topped with a ceramic cup from his house. The wonderful
smell of the hot milk spreads in the air. Pran doesn't come to my
place often since it would be awkward if he stumbled across my dad.
"What time is the meeting tomorrow?"
"Eight."
"Is this important?" he asks, flipping the document on my desk.
"Is this the line of business you're going to extend?"
"Yeah."
"It's not urgent. Do it later," Pran says, glancing at the clock.
"It's already past two."
"You should go back to bed."
Pran gives no response, quiet. I turn to him and meet his gaze,
but he looks away again.
"Why are you so upset?"
"You won't understand, Pran."
"Why are you jealous? He's my cousin and always will be. It's
like how Par and you can never be in love."
"It's not the same," I speak clearly. How can it be the same?
Par and I grew up together, but Pran and Pong got closer after they
became grownups who understand the different kinds of love. "Don't
you know how kitten–like you are when you're with him?"
"I'm different from when I'm with you, right?"
"Yes." I get more annoyed the more we talk. I turn around after
barking the answer, and Pran steps close behind me. He ruffles my
hair and slips his left arm around my neck while wrapping his right
arm around my waist, hugging me from behind.
 "Different treatments, different relationships. I scold you and
never treat you politely because you're my boyfriend, not my older
cousin. If you want to be treated like my cousin, I can act the way I
do with Pong."
"Not funny, Pran."
"Are you afraid that I'll love him more than you?" He rests his
sharp chin on my shoulder, nuzzling my neck. "Don't be stupid, Pat.
The only one I can hug like this is you. What are you afraid for?"
"Why doesn't he have a lover?"
"How am I supposed to know?" Pran says, laughing. He
nudges my neck over and over with his nose. "I'm not his boyfriend.
And I'm not close to him enough to know his personal stuff. Can you
stop being jealous now?"
"He didn't act weird when you were together in England, right?"
"No. Even if he did, I still chose to be with you." His answer
knocks some sense into me. We've been through so much that we
shouldn't waste our time being upset. "Pat, did you forget who I
love?"
"I didn't forget. I just don't want you to be alone with him."
"Come with us, then. I never stopped you. You were always the
one whining. You refused to join us and tried to stop me from going.
What childish jealousy."
"You know I'm just jealous." I spin to see my lover's playful
smile and kiss the palm of his hand. "I'll try to tone it down."
"It's kind of cute, though. It makes me want to kick your butt."
"Relax. I'm your boyfriend," I whimper, pulling him close. I kiss
his cheek and press my nose on his neck the way he did to me just
now, and Pran slides his arm around my back. We wrap ourselves in
each other's warmth.
"P…Pat, don't you have a meeting early in the morning?"
I push Pran's back towards me. Seeing a gap between his skin
and the edge of his pants, I insert my hand and touch him directly.
My kiss turns into nibbling. Pran resists with a quivering voice, yet he
tits his head so I can kiss his neck as much as I want.
"That's tomorrow's business."
 I reply and take him to the bed. We never made love here.
Usually, we did it in Pran's room.
"Pat…your parents will hear us."
"It's all right," I say, taking off my shirt from my head, locking his
reddened body under my hips. "It's only natural for a husband and a
wife."
"You bastard!"
"You said I'm different from Pong."
I caress his cheek with my fingertips and press my thumb on
his red lips. I grind them until I'm satisfied and bring my thumb back
to kiss, my smoldering eyes fixed on the person below.
"I just want to remind you that Pong might be able to turn you
into the polite boy, but the one who can make you scream in joy and
pain…"
"…"
"…is me. And only me."
 Love Me Love My Dad
Pran | talk

I can't breathe…
I open my eyes just to find that it's hard to move. Turning
around, I glare at the sleeping guy resting his arm on my body. He
puts all the weight on me comfortably without caring about how I
could feel like having sleep paralysis.
"Pat."
I call the culprit who has made my arms and the right half of my
body go numb, but he won't move.
"Pat!" This time, I pinch his upper arm so hard the sleeping guy
jumps.
"That hurts!"
"The pain can wake you up."
"You should've used other ways," Pat grins, grasping the nape
of my neck, pulling me down. "Have you watched Sleeping Beauty?"
"You're definitely the Beast," I sputter, turning away.
"Give the Beast a kiss."
I suppress my smile and yield to his hand pulling me in. I let the
wild dog plays with my lips to his heart's content before nibbling his
lower lip.
"Hmm, we wouldn't be able to get off the bed if you nibbled me
like this."
I scrunch up my nose. "Will you get up now?"
"Yes, sir," Pat says mockingly, holding out his hand for me to
yank him up. He kisses my cheek and pushes me towards the
bathroom. He usually drags me to shower with him on the days we
leave together.
"You're working out of town tomorrow, aren't you?" I ask the
person who buttons his shirt to finish dressing up.
 "Yeah, for a week," Pat grumbles. "If you weren't busy, I'd take
you with me."
"You talk like a spoiled kid." I smile. I walk to him and swat at
his hands before buttoning the rest, then I grab the tie to put on him.
"All done," I say, looking up to see Pat locking his eyes on me the
way it makes my cheeks burn.
"I mean it," he whispers. "How do I sleep without you?"
"Quit whining," I mutter, pinching his cheeks. "Get your work
done and come back."
"By the way, how was it assisting your friend at his company?
You didn't tell me last night."
"Who robbed my chance of doing that?" I frown, and Pat rubs
his face on my cheek. "Enough."
"So?"
"It was okay. I trained the younger ones and assessed the
projects. Things will probably be settled in a few months."
"Great. Learn a lot so you can start up your own company
without a problem."
"Stop chatting. You'll be late."
"Okay. See you tonight."
"Will you sleep at your place for once? Your parents will be
upset." He's slept in my room for two weeks straight. It used to be
every other day or every two days, but now he won't go home since
no one says anything.
"Your home is mine. My home is yours. What's the difference?"
I roll my eyes. "Did you ask your dad before saying that?"
"I don't know. I don't care."
"Just leave already," I cut short and push him out of the room.
"Pran."
"Hmm?" I look away from the screen of a trainee to the other
employee. "What is it?"
"Your phone."
"All right, I'll get it," I reply and leave the last message to the
trainee next to me. "Fix where I told you and save the file
separately."
"Okay."
 I nod and head back to my desk. When I check my phone and
notice Pat's missed call, I call him back right away.
[Pran.]
"Did you call me? What's the matter?"
[Yeah. I have a favor to ask you.]
I lift my eyebrow, hearing his unusually agitated voice. "What's
wrong, Pat?"
[Par broke her car. She gave me a call just now, but I'm still in
the meeting.]
"Where? I'll go there," I say, checking my watch. It's almost
seven. "Did you tell her not to get out of the car?"
[I did. The car is on the road near the gas station at the XXX
mall.]
"Got it. Hanging up now. I'll call her."
[Drive safely, Pran. I'll give you a call right after I'm done.]
"Okay. Do well."
I end the call and tell the trainees fixing their works that I have
to go, then I gather my stuff and take my leave early. On the way to
the parking lot, I call Par and remind her to lock the car doors and
stay put. I get in my car and hurry there. In thirty minutes, I arrive,
pulling over behind Par's car.
Knock, knock.
I leave my car in neutral and get down to knock on the window
of Par's car. Seeing me, she smiles, unlocks the door, and steps out
to stand next to me. "Thank you, Pran."
"You're okay, right?" I smile, ruffling her hair gently. "I called the
mechanics. They'll be here soon. Wait in the car and lock the door."
"Won't you wait inside together? It's dark. I'm worried."
"They're here. Get in the car," I say, holding out my hand. "Give
me the key."
Par passes her key and walks around the car to get in the
driver's seat obediently. I make sure she's locked the door before
greeting the mechanics. After an inspection, we need to call a tow
truck to transfer the car to the repair center. I deal with the document
and everything for a while before handing Par's key to the
mechanics, then I hop in my car along with her.
 "It's all right now."
Par beams. "Thank you, Pran. Things could've gone bad
without you."
"Don't mention it. But you should get your car checked up from
time to time. It's dangerous when you drive alone and your car
breaks in the middle of nowhere."
"Okay."
Once she's promised in a sweet voice, I nod and fasten the
belt.
"Let's go home."
I park the car in my garage, turn off the engine, and open the
door. I am going to open the door for Par, but she's already out.
"Come on, I'll walk you home."
"Okay."
The girl smiles and takes my arm as we walk to the next house.
Before we reach the gate, Pat's car arrives. He opens the gate with
the remote controller and lowers the car window to flash us a smile.
"Who's the girl you're walking with? I'm jealous."
I sigh and put on a fake bored face while the mentioned girl
clings to me and rests her head on my shoulder. "Who's that
gangster? How scary."
"Damn it, Par. I'd smack you if you weren't my sister."
"I'm not scared of you. Pran is my backup."
"Whose side are you, Pran?"
Their joke has gone too far. Damn these siblings. "Cut it out.
Drive inside now. Why are you pulling over right here?"
"Okay. But don't go home yet. Let's eat together."
"Huh?" I raise my eyebrow.
"Right, let's have dinner together. Dad and Mom are home
today," Par says.
"Oh, ah…"
"See you inside, Little Pran," Pat says with a grin before driving
in without hearing another word. Won't any of them ask about how I
feel about this first? What's with their sudden invitation? The last
time I faced Pat's dad was around a month ago, and the tension was
unbearably suffocating.
 "Come on, Pran. Let's eat."
Par chirps and jerks my arm, dragging me into the house,
unaware of what kind of expression I have. I match her pace and
take a deep breath.
Let's get on with it, Pran…
As I expected, the dining table is cloaked in silence,
occasionally interrupted with Par's little chat and Pat asking me what
I want to try. I actually joined their meals a couple of times, but
without the presence of Pat's dad. I'm not exactly on bad terms with
Pat's mom. Still, I didn't know what to say to her at first. We filled the
mealtimes with some silent and awkward moments, but our
relationship gradually got better. When we opened our hearts, the
awkwardness kind of melted away. But for Pat's dad…
"Ah…Would you like some more water?" I offer, seeing his
almost empty glass.
"Yes, thanks."
I smile and reach out to take the glass, but Uncle Nui stops me
short. "Par can take care of that."
I halt, my smile strained. I pull my hand back to my spoon and
fork and meet Aunt Kaew's gaze. She gives me a supporting smile.
"Well…What should we do now that Par's car broke down?"
Aunt Kaew changes the subject.
"Right. Pat works out of town often, and I have cheerleading
practice every day," Par chimes in, trying to lift up the mood.
"I can drive you," Uncle Nui suggests.
"It's going to be late, Dad. I don't want you to drive late at
night."
"What should we do, then? Just use my car."
"How would you get about, Dad?"
"Ah…" I mutter in a rather respectful tone after listening to the
conversation. "I can drive her."
"Really? Will it trouble you?" Anut Kaew asks, eyeing Uncle
Nui.
"It won't. The university's near where I work."
"Are you sure? We shouldn't bother you," Uncle Nui says, eyes
on his plate, forking his food.
 "Pran won't think it's a bother. These two have always been
close. There's no problem," Pat answers instead. He adds more food
on my plate and says, "We're leaving it to you, Pran."
I nod and smile at Uncle Nui and Aunt Kaew. "Don't worry. I'll
take care of her."
"Why don't you get down here so you won't have to walk far?" I
ask Par once I've pulled over in front of my house gate. The
cheerleading practice was called off today so she could get home
early. It's only been an hour after the sky went dark.
"Go on and park in your place," the girl answers with a smile. I
raise my eyebrow but says nothing, just driving forward as she
suggested. "Thank you for the ride, Pran," Par says when the car
stops.
"Anytime. Come on, I'll walk you home."
"Let's have dinner together. I told my mom you'd join the meal
before we left the uni."
"But just two days ago…"
"Mom said she'd make your favorite."
But I just ate at her place two days ago…
"Let's go," Par grins. She steps out of the car, makes her way
to the back, and gestures to me to come down. I sigh, kill the engine,
and follow her.
Is this family full of dictators…?
As always, the conversations during the meal are mostly begun
by Par, Aunt Kaew, and me. Respectively so. Uncle Nui remains
silent the whole time and leaves the table once he's full. The only
interaction we had since I stepped inside is…
'Good evening.'
'Um.'
It's been like this every time Par got home early and I had to
join their dinner…
"Aren't you going to bed, Dad?"
I ask Dad once I've walked through the hall and spotted him
watching the TV in the living room. Dad nods at me and turns it off.
"Yeah."
"What about Mom?"
 "Sleeping," he says. "She told me to tell you to have breakfast
with your family tomorrow."
"Ugh, Dad."
"She must be really upset."
"I had breakfast here two days ago, didn't I?" I crack a smile.
"Why didn't you go to bed with Mom?"
"I was waiting to talk to you. Come here."
I lift my eyebrow in surprise. Why was he waiting for me this
late at night? I walk over and sit on the chair beside him.
"What's the matter? Why do you want to talk this late?"
"It's not like you ever had time for me. Pat stole all of your time,
and you hung out at his place day and night."
I smile. I've never imagined the day I can talk about that family
with Dad without a fight before. "Par's car will be done tomorrow."
"Um," Dad mumbles. "How's your work?"
"It's all right. Running a business is harder than I thought."
"Do you still want to have a go?"
I nod. "Yes."
"I guess SR will be over in my time since my ungrateful son is
pursuing another path."
I snicker. It seems like Dad is upset. "Come on, Dad. I studied
interior design. It's going to be hard for me managing a construction
business."
"I told you to study engineering."
"My heart denied it."
"Your heart is a fool," Dad says, smiling faintly. The trace of
weariness surfaces on his face, making my smile fade
unconsciously.
"Don't worry about the company," I smile again, touching his
hand. "I will not abandon what you built."
Dad smirks, glancing at me. "Save your breath. This is my
company. I can deal with it. Focus on your own thing."
"Ugh, Dad."
I whine, and we both laugh softly. Dad pats my head with his
big hand, tells me to rest, and stands up. I watch his back
disappearing slowly, with some warmth spreading in my chest.
 Ever since I was a kid…I've been watching this dignified back.
As soon as I'm in my room, I sigh and plop on my bed. I
massage the area between my eyebrows to ease the tension I've
endured for hours. It drained my energy. I revised the plan all day
and it still couldn't be compared to this. Honestly, when I was
assigned to drive Par home, I wished to use this chance to get along
with Pat's dad. However, it was uncomfortable to talk or even utter a
word. I needed to rethink my words ten times before I said anything.
The tension was so terrible that I had no idea what to do.
My phone rings as I knead my forehead, my eyebrows, and my
temples. I shift and pick it up.
"What's up, Pat?"
[Are you home?]
"I just got back." I smile, getting up. "Have you eaten?"
[Yes, I have. I'm also in my room.]
"Yeah."
[Are you tired?]
"Hmm?"
[You sound tired.]
I lift my eyebrow. What kind of voice did I use? "No. I'm
probably sleepy."
[I'm coming back the day after tomorrow. I'll give you an energy
hug.]
"You'll suck out all my energy."
Pat laughs. I feel better now that I talk to him, so I listen to him
telling me about this and that.
[Anyway, Pran.]
"Hmm?"
[How is it with my dad?]
"Your dad…" I lick my lips, thinking of the softest word to
describe the situation. "Well…Just the same, I guess."
[Did he do something that bothers you?]
"No. I'm just thinking about topics to chat with your dad," I say
honestly. "I don't want him to keep hating me like this."
[He doesn't hate you.]
 How could you say that? Didn't you catch his reaction when he
saw me? "I hope so."
[Are you uncomfortable?]
"I'm not," I say quickly so Pat won't be worried. "I just want to
be closer to him…At least we should be able to have small talks or
something."
[Thank you, Pran.]
"For what?"
[For doing this for me.]
"It can't be compared to what you did."
[Hmm? Did you do something wrong? Why are you talking so
sweetly?]
I roll my eyes. "You're crazy."
[I'll shower you with my kisses once I'm back.]
"Shut up. I'll take a shower now."
[All right. Goodnight.]
"Um," I mumble, pause, and decide to say one more thing.
"Hurry back."
I hear him laugh and hang up. I frown when I receive a text
popping up almost the moment the call ended.
'I love you.'
I read the short message a couple more times, lock the screen,
and exhale. I feel like the pieces of my body, scattered everywhere
when I flopped on my bed, are being put back together. I rub my
hand over my face to gain some courage.
All right…
In the morning, I wait for Par at her house an hour earlier than
usual. I enter the house and see no one, so I take the liberty to seat
myself on the couch in the living room. After ten minutes of silence, I
hear Uncle Nui walking down the stairs. Turning my head, I see him
telling the maid to make coffee. Our eyes meet, but his face remains
expressionless. He simply orders one more cup of coffee and strolls
over to sit on the long couch next to my seat.
"Ah…Good morning."
"Um."
Still short and blunt.
 "…" Receiving the response that leads to a dead–end, I pause
and search for the topics I prepared since yesterday as best I can.
"Are you going to the company today?"
"No, today I'm resting."
"Oh, I see," I mutter. The coffee is served just in time, so I
thank the maid and sip on it. Pat's dad eyes me before lifting his own
cup.
"You can drink black coffee?"
I raise my eyebrow and turn my head abruptly. My heart skips a
beat. This is the first time he spoke first. "Yes. I stayed up all night
many times back in college days."
"You didn't get a proper sleep that you got knackered."
I smile, recalling the time he accused me of being a drug
addict. "Yeah, there were lots of works to be done. I barely ate or
slept, so I looked that way."
"Um…"
"…"
"I never thought someone like you could be with Pat."
"Pardon?" I look up, uttering the reply in surprise. I thought the
conversation has ended.
"You don't look like the type to be stubborn."
"Oh, no…I am pretty stubborn." And I hurt my parents a great
deal.
"Are you sure about dating Pat?"
"He's a good man. His true self helps me a lot."
"What do you mean?"
My lips curl up as I think of the face of the person I'm
mentioning. "Pat might appear playful and frivolous, but he pours his
heart and soul into what he does. He's blunt but never lies or
badmouths anyone. He could be dirty and messy, but he never
makes a fuss when ordered to tidy up. He's lazy yet responsible. He
never turns trivial matters into big deals. On the other hand, he turns
those big deals into something that can be handled. When I'm
stressed or pressured, Pat always helps me get through those
situations. He doesn't solve the problems for me, but he cheers me
up."
 I go on with a smile on my face as Pat's past actions flash in
my mind. Meeting Uncle Nui's eyes, I shut my mouth. Did my
blabbering annoy him?
"Well…Something like that."
Uncle Nui keeps his gaze on me a moment longer before
flicking his eyes away. He sips his coffee and places the cup down.
"It seems he has good points as much as bad ones."
"Right," I laugh. "But that's what makes Pat the Pat we know."
"It sounds like you know each other very well."
"We grew up side by side."
"…Um," he mumbles and frowns as if mulling over something.
"Is that why you think you can accept everything he is?"
"It's not because I know him well that I can accept everything. I
can accept him because I never expect perfection. His good and bad
traits shape who he is," I press my lips together, feeling oddly
embarrassed to compliment Pat in his own house. If he heard me,
he'd wag his tail as his ears perked up. "Pat knows no limit when
expressing himself. He can't control his face or emotions, and his
straightforwardness tones down my stubbornness."
While we talk, Uncle Nui takes a while before giving a
response, and that makes me so excited that my hands get sweaty
as I wait in silence.
"…Are you really sure?"
"Yes, I am."
"I hope it's not a misled inclination."
His reply makes me go quiet. I nod without a word, though my
heart screams otherwise.
"Yeah."
Uncle Nui sighs deeply, leans his back on the cushion, and
stares ahead. We stay quiet for minutes. I decide not to bother him
anymore, letting him pondering whatever is on his mind. Eventually,
he speaks first.
"Pat and I are not so different. We share the same personality."
"Yeah, I know." That's the reason why I believe Uncle Nui isn't
as heartless as he looks.
Because he has a similar personality as Pat…my only lover.
 "Oh, Pran." Par's voice cuts in, drawing my attention. The girl in
a student uniform shoots a smile from the middle of the stairs. "Why
did you come so early? Wait a minute, I'll get my shoes real quick."
"It's all right. No need to rush. I can wait."
"I'll be right back," she says, hurrying down the stairs and
turning right to the other room.
I watch her with affection as Uncle Nui shifts and gets up. I
stand up with him.
"I'm going to get changed. Take care of Par."
"Yes."
Uncle Nui nods and spins. Before he takes a step, he leaves
one last message. His words send warmth to my heart, making me
unable to stifle my smile.
"Pat might have an endless list of bad qualities, but please care
of him as well."
I'm stunned, completely speechless, until he walks further
away. "I will!" I shout after him once I've pulled myself together. If
someone saw me right now, they'd think I'm crazy.
Since I'm standing with a big smile on my face in the middle of
someone else's house…
 Together
Pat | talk

Both my family and Pran's hardly go on vacation on festivals or

holidays. For one thing, we hate crowds. And for another, we'd rather
avoid getting stuck in the car since all the roads heading out of town
will be jammed with too many salary people.
For one more reason, my dad and Pran's have this unspoken
competition about whose family Pran and I would spend our time
with.
It's like a small game of the elders. In the end, Pran and I
choose to stay home on holidays, going back and forth between two
houses so these old men won't feel neglected. Once in a while, we'd
use our annual leaves to travel somewhere quiet and serene.
Par loves the sea, and Pran joined our trip.
This time is my father–in–law's turn. Uncle Pakorn enjoys
fishing, so we are all fishing at a dam in Kanchanaburi.
"You're one impatient guy," the only son of that family says with
a grin. His bucket is full of fish that he planned to release once he's
satisfied. As for me, I've stuck by his side all day and didn't catch a
single fish.
"I'm unlucky."
"The fish took your bait several times." The sun is setting,
turning the sky golden. Three men sit in line not so far away from
each other. "You yanked the line up once it shook. How could you
get the fish that way?"
"I'll lose it if I'm too slow," I counter, and the middle–aged man
near me snickers softly.
"You won't get one by the end of the day fidgeting like that,"
Pran's dad mutters. His voice echoes aloud in the silence, making
me scrunch my nose.
 "Why don't you fish with me in Bangkok next time?"
"Whoa, I'll pass. I don't think it suits me."
"It's good for practicing patience and calmness," Uncle Pakorn
explains, a smile plastered on his face. Pran leans backward so I
can see Uncle Pakorn more clearly, but I still decline.
"I can't do it. My back hurts so bad, yet I didn't manage to catch
one."
"You're still young and strong." Uncle Pakorn's low voice is
carried by the wind. From here, we spot a flock of birds flying
through the clouds over the big, round, yolk–like sun slowly drowning
in the dam.
"It's beautiful."
Pran nods, his fishing line twitching again. He gets a giant
snakehead this time while Uncle Pakorn catches another fish. I sigh
in my seat, eyeing the empty bucket of mine.
"Hey, you can release my fish."
I fucking hate this sport. What can I do, though? My father–in–
law and my wifey seem to enjoy it a lot.
"Do well tomorrow, newbie."
Pran pats my shoulder and lifts his dad's bucket to return the
fish to nature. He collects everyone's rods and carries them back to
the resort. I remain at the dam for a while before the middle–aged
man comes closer beside me.
"Don't like fishing?"
"It doesn't suit a hot–headed guy."
"But you've tried all day." Uncle Pakorn grins. He has the exact
smile as Pran. "A hot–headed man with high patience."
"Well, Pran likes it." The last light reflects on the water surface,
glistening. I cast my eyes ahead to the velvet carpet decorated with
glitters. "Also, it's been months since we traveled."
"It must've been hectic at the company."
"Yes. We're planning to move our office. It's too cramped in
there."
"Are you investing in stocks?"
"I'm studying it. Things already turned out beyond my
expectations."
 The breeze brushes my hair. Even in summer, this place is
surprisingly cool.
"Can you handle another company?"
"Pardon?"
"Pran is doing well with the company he started up with his
friends. He looks so happy." I know that. There's no sign of Pran
coming back to take over his family business. "And I'm so dying to
retire."
"Did you talk to Pran about this?"
"I did mention it. It'd be a shame to sell the company I built with
my own hands away. My relatives aren't competent enough to
manage it. I don't want to see my business crumble before my eyes,
at least not in my lifetime."
"Well…What's your plan?"
"I'd like to hear your thought first. How do you see yourself in
ten years from now?"
By then, I'll be in my thirties, turning forty soon. My dad will
probably be permanently retiring. Par will already have graduated
and been married. If I don't have a new dream at that time, I guess I
can lend him a hand.
"I want to start a line of architecture business for Pran so we
can work and solve problems together, and he can even bring his
friends in. Our working fields are related anyway. Or if their company
has a positive growth by then, we can be partners."
The sun is drowned in the water as my eyes are fixed on the
dark purple sky. It will all get completely dark in a few minutes
without any lights except one from the electric generator in our
resort.
Everything is quiet. When I turn my head, Uncle Pakorn is
already looking at me.
"Ask Pran about what he thinks if I let you take over my
company."
"But…"
"You can be co–owners. Just consider it, okay? Both of you.
Give me your answer later. There's no rush." The middle–aged man
stands up, the movement shaking our raft. "It's better to tell me
before you move the office, though. That way, you'll be able to adjust
your plan in time."
He leaves into the glow, warm light from our accommodation. I
stay outside, listening alone to the humming of nature.
"Did my dad say that?"
Pran and I drink beer after dinner by the window of the resort
room near the dam, with only a wooden board separating the indoor
and outdoor areas. Outside is the raft we fished on, tied to the resort.
The breeze carries the coolness from the water, hitting our faces.
The stars in the new moon night sparkle in the sky with the same
color as the water.
I nod and press my lips on the coldness of the beer can. Pran
does the same, his eyes casting ahead, placing his other hand atop
mine on the table between our chairs.
"What do you think?"
"I don't know. We have no idea if your dad will agree with my
dad's plan. I mean, you taking over the company he resented? Your
dad's still not over it even after all those sealed deals."
"He's over it now, I guess."
"Maybe. Well, this is a big decision."
"Yeah." Pran contemplates the idea, squeezing my hand as he
does. "If you ask me, I'm okay with it. I'm also okay with registering
the company together with a line of architecture business. A large
amount of registered capital will benefit us in stocks."
"That way, you monopolize numerous projects both from your
dad's company and mine. All yours. With other architecture projects,
success is near. The stock price will surge."
"And once the company is registered in the stock market, your
CEO position will be taken away," Pran laughs. "If I were a member
of the board, I wouldn't select you."
"Chill, Little Pran. Your dad trusts me, okay?" I respond, holding
out my beer. Pran lifts his can in his right hand to clink mine and
chug it down. The light is dim. I have this perverted thought in my
mind, but I am afraid the sound will shock his parents in the next
room. "So you're okay with it?"
 "I don't mind either, as long as I get to work with what I've
learned. It's fine if you don't want this. I will find a way to take over
the company and extend the line of architecture business. I might
receive jobs related to architecture more than engineering. But if you
can talk it through with my dad and yours, that's great. I can focus on
my own things that way."
"Wow, you're not helping me decide at all."
"I have plans for any options. I can't abandon what my father
worked so hard on. I'm just not ready to manage it yet."
"Then…Will you be happier if I take over your dad's company?"
"Good grief. Why are you asking if I'll be happy with what you
decide to do or not do? You better ask yourself if you can handle it.
Won't it be tiring? That doubles the responsibilities."
"It depends on the support whether I can handle it or not." Pran
quiets down. So do I. "You're my support, Pran. That's why I'm
asking which option will make you happier."
"It's up to you." Pran cocks his head. From this angle, I take in
his side profile. He bites his lip, his cheeks blushing from the beer
we've drunk for half the night. "It's always been up to you."
Upon hearing those words, I move my face close to him, pulled
by some strange force, until our lips touch. We hear the sound of the
ripples crashing the raft by the wind mixing with the sound of our
tongues tangled. I tilt my head so our lips can be perfectly sealed as
Pran's hot breath hits my face. Fluttering my eyes open, I see the
thick lashes on his shut eyes up close.
I cup his pale cheeks in my hands. Pran is a lightweight, and
he's pretty drunk right now.
I can tell from the way he thrusts his tongue in my mouth and
roll it around inside my cheeks and over my teeth. He grinds and
sucks my lips without embarrassment.
I swear I didn't plan to have sex with him tonight. But the stars,
the ripples, and the natural breeze are luring me to ignore the rule I
set in my mind in the early evening.
Not to mention Pran's kiss and his swollen, red lips that I can't
take my eyes off after he's pulled back.
"Wait on the bed. I'll turn the light off."
 Pran nods, his dark hair falling over half his cheek. "Hurry, Pat."
I almost charge towards him. As soon as the light is off, I crawl
on the bed and we kiss again. We throw off our clothes without a
moment of hesitation.
"Don't be too loud, okay?" I whisper, making him lie on his
stomach. I slip one of my arms under his waist, lifting up his hips,
then I pull down his pants.
"Pat…Use the gel."
"I didn't bring it. Don't worry. I'll use my tongue to wet it before I
enter you."
I press my lips on his naked shoulder before kissing down his
spine. Pran tenses up his muscles under the stars, and he fails to
keep quiet when my tongue touches his soft entrance. He squirms
so hard that I have to use my strength to lock him in place.
"Pran, my dear."
I whisper in the wind.
Our pant mixes with the sound of our flesh bumping against
each other. The resort by the water shakes as someone's raspy
voice reverberates through the dam, echoing. It goes on like that for
another half of the night.
The sunlight in the late morning welcomes me when I swing the
door connected to the raft open. After I was done with our business, I
shut the window, not allowing the new day to disturb my resting time
with my lover. By the time I show up outside, it's almost ten in the
working day.
It's nice raveling on working days. The resort is quiet, with only
two rooms open: mine and my father–in–law's. As a result, I feel no
shame while sauntering outside in only a pair of shorts since no
prying eyes are staring.
"You got up early," I greet Uncle Pakorn, who's fishing in the
same spot, truly enjoying this sport. "You caught a lot."
"I got more yesterday. Maybe they know it's the bait. Why don't
you find something to eat first? It's late."
"I'll wait and eat with Pran," I reply, sitting next to him. Taking
days off is just great. I can do anything whenever I'm pleased with no
worry. "He'll probably wake up soon."
 "Yeah. Did you talk to him?"
"I did, but I need to consult my dad. It shouldn't be a problem
since I'm almost a hundred percent in charge."
My father–in–law nods, his fishing line still in the water.
"Must've been a tough night." I shrink a little at his remark.
Uncle Pakorn clears his throat, his lip curling up. "It's good to be
young."
"Well…not that much."
"It was noisy. I couldn't distinguish the voices, though, whether
it was yours or Pran's. Both were male voices."
My whole face burns up, and my hands on my lap suddenly
feel out of place. I raise them to rub my face, trying to hide my
embarrassment.
For goodness' sake, it's not funny at all hearing those words
from my father–in–law after doing his son so hard he was knocked
out.
"Don't leave him. You've got both his heart and body, and I am
even going to give you my company."
"I won't leave him." My voice comes out muffled through the
hands covering my face. I stretch my thumbs and index fingers to
massage my temples. "We'll be together like this until one of us dies.
From now on, I can't imagine my life without Pran."
"Let me ask you something. Who's the husband and who's the
wife?"
"Uncle…"
"Quit calling me like that." His words are followed by laughter. I
peek at him through the gaps between my fingers to make sure this
is Pakorn who scowled at me in my teenage days. "Just call me Dad
like Pran does, at this rate."
"Okay, Dad."
"What's the answer? Did I get a son–in–law or a daughter–in–
law? Or does it depend on the mood?"
I pause for a while before muttering, "You got a son–in–law."
"Why are you mumbling? Do you not like it? Want me to talk to
Pran?"
 "It's not like that, Dad." Honestly, I don't know what kind of
expression I should make. Uncle Pakorn smiles when his fishing line
gets tight and moves, the sign of a bait taken. Before he can reel in
the fish, someone's footsteps startle the lucky fish away.
"What are you two doing? And what do you want for lunch? I'll
tell the staff to prepare it."
"Your steps scared my fish away."
"You'll get a new one. Isn't Pran up yet, Pat?"
"No." Has he any idea that what we did last night made it hard
for me to face his parents? His mom puts on a sly smile and nods
knowingly. "Wake him up at eleven, then, so he can take a shower
and have lunch. We need to check out at one, but they allow us until
two since there are no other guests on a working day."
"Okay. I'll wake him up."
The footsteps fade away behind us, leaving my father–in–law
and me alone again.
"Discuss what I told you with your father. Pran told me he no
longer holds a grudge?"
"Yeah. He often invited Pran for dinner recently, so it shouldn't
be a problem. The different policies of the two companies should be
taken into account, though. I'm still mulling over how complicated it's
going to be if I handle everything alone."
"You've got your life partner. Find a way together."
He gives me such a great opportunity. I nod while Pran's dad
rigs the artificial bait and casts it over the vast body of water. I pull
my knees to my chest and locks my eyes on where the horizon
meets the water and the white, fluffy clouds dotting the sky.
My days with Pran go on endlessly. The sun yesterday shone
bright, the same as today, tomorrow, the day after tomorrow, and
other days to come.
The door is flung open and close. Not a single fish bites Uncle
Pakorn's bait as new footsteps approach.
Pran flops down next to me. No parts of our bodies touch, but
our eyes stare ahead to the same spot.
"Are you hungry, Pran?"
"Not yet. I want to chill here for a bit. Have you eaten?"
 "No. I was waiting for you."
Our hands skitter to each other on the raft. They don't touch
the way they did yesterday when our hands intertwined as we were
alone.
"Let's go, then."
I nod and stand up first before holding my hand out to him.
Pran takes it, letting me lead the way until we are side by side.
Don't leave him.
Pran's dad's words echo in my head, and I promised him like a
man.
Don't leave me.
Those words resound in my mind, and I know he promises me
not to as well.