"I built a palace to keep him out—
And ended up a prisoner when he knocked once."
— Kao
Lava approached with concern etched across her face. Her voice was gentle, careful, as she asked, "Kao, is there something you need?"
His frustration flared. Without even meeting her eyes, he answered coldly,
"Will you leave me alone?"
But she didn't move. Still standing there, still hoping.
He exhaled sharply, as if her presence itself was unbearable.
"Alright, there's no point."
"I'm leaving."
Lava reached out, her voice trembling with hesitation,
"But, Kao—"
He didn't wait for her to finish.
Didn't turn back.
Didn't explain.
He brushed past her, each step swift and final, and disappeared into the storm-light outside.
The moment he slid behind the wheel, the car came alive beneath his grip. But the fury in his heart had no clear road to follow—only a thousand questions, each louder than the engine's growl.
Suddenly, Kao's eyes narrowed.
Across the narrow road, just past the shade of an overgrown tree, he saw Nil walking away—alone. But he was not alone for long. Three men trailed behind him, movements too casual to be innocent. Shadows clung to their steps like intent.
Kao straightened at once, his hand tightening on the wheel.
One of the men surged forward.
Rip—
Nil's bag was yanked from his hand.
Startled, Nil cried out, "Thief—!" and immediately gave chase, darting forward with instinctive recklessness, like a flame refusing to be smothered.
Kao turned the wheel—but the alley was too narrow for a car, the road uneven, cluttered with debris. Without a second thought, Kao threw open the door and ran.
Ahead, Nil had already caught up.
His fingers closed around the bag's strap and pulled with all his might.
"Asshole! I'm already broken!" he spat, breath ragged.
"You'll get nothing! Just two pairs of clothes—"
The thief sneered, yanking back.
"Whatever. Let it go."
"Jerk! I won't!" Nil roared.
One of them raised his fist, swinging straight at Nil's jaw.
But the blow never landed.
A hand intercepted the strike midair, fingers clamping down like a vice.
A low voice rang out, seething with fury.
"How dare you."
A single kick followed—sharp, brutal, straight to the attacker's abdomen. The man doubled over, breath fleeing his lungs.
Another rushed in, raising a pipe—only to be greeted by Kao's fist slamming into his face.
Crack.
Two teeth flew from his mouth like shrapnel.
The third thief took one look—and bolted into the distance without a word.
Kao didn't stop. His leather shoes landed blow after blow, merciless, controlled only by the limit of his rage. Blood splattered the dirt. One man curled up, shielding his head. Another whimpered beneath a boot.
"Please—sir—spare us..."
But Kao didn't even seem to hear.
As if, for Nil's sake, he was willing to break the whole world.
Kao's breaths came fast, ragged—his whole body trembling, as if the storm inside him was about to break loose. "We will not do this again," one of the men stammered, desperation edging their voices. But Kao was already silent, locked in a fury that no words could reach.
His eyes, dark and sharp, burned with a wild light. "How dare you try to hurt him." The words were low, but each syllable struck like thunder.
Nil's hands gripped Kao's arms, trembling as he tried to pull him back. "Stranger, calm down!" he urged, voice thick with fear.
But Kao's grip on reason slipped. Sweat matted his disheveled hair, and his fingers clenched faster. In a sudden motion, Kao unfastened his belt—no ordinary belt, but a Gucci diamond piece, the double-G buckle heavy and lethal in the moonlight. Its leather gleamed cold and cruel as Kao rolled it between his palms.
Nil's breath hitched, heart pounding as Kao raised the belt, ready to strike.
Without thinking, Nil lunged forward, arms wrapping around Kao in a desperate, crushing embrace—tight enough to stop the beating wings of a storm. Kao froze, caught in the sudden stillness of Nil's hold.
In that breathless moment, the opportunity bloomed—like shadows slipping through a cracked door.
The men fled, swallowed by the night, leaving only the heavy silence between two bodies locked in the quiet aftermath of violence.
Nil's arms wrapped tightly around Kao's chest, as if to tether him back from the edge of something unspeakable. His body pressed close, heart thudding wildly against Kao's ribs—though it was impossible to tell whose heartbeat was whose anymore. Beneath his palms, Kao's chest heaved, frantic, as though the storm inside him had finally found a voice.
Kao's breath, hot and ragged, brushed against Nil's neck. One of his hands still hovered in the air, clenched around nothing, suspended in that strange border between violence and surrender.
He stood frozen.
The leather belt now limp in his other hand, the heavy buckle gleamed in the moonlight like a fragment of a broken weapon—useless now.
And yet, Kao didn't move.
He couldn't.
Because for the first time in days— something in him had gone still.
"Why does it feel so... comfortable?"
"As if I've needed this—been starving for this—for so long..."
"His warmth..."
The thoughts whispered through Kao's mind, soft and aching, like fingers trailing over old scars. His throat bobbed as he swallowed hard.
Nil trembled in his arms, his voice small but firm, layered with exhaustion and something dangerously close to heartbreak. "Enough... Stranger..."
The words didn't strike like a scolding—but like a prayer.
Finally, slowly, Kao let the belt fall.
With a dull thunk, it hit the ground.
He was about to wrap his arms around Nil, to return the embrace—to bury his face in the curve of Nil's neck and never let go.
But just before he could, Nil stepped back.
The warmth vanished. Like fire doused in sudden rain.
The distance between them returned, abrupt and sharp.
Both of them stood in silence, breathing hard. Kao's hands were still empty. Nil's fingers twitched, as if they didn't know whether to reach out again—or retreat further.
For one suspended breath, their gazes met.
Blood trickled down Kao's knuckles, stark against his pale skin.
Nil noticed it before Kao did.
Without saying a word, he reached into his pocket, pulled out a handkerchief, and knelt slightly to bind the wound. His fingers trembled faintly as they worked—steady, but trembling nonetheless. The cloth was wrapped tightly, carefully, almost too carefully.
Kao lowered his gaze.
The youth before him was flushed from exertion, lips pressed into a thin line, brows creased with concern—utterly unaware of the storm he had stirred.
Kao's voice broke the silence, low and hoarse, meant for no ears but his own.
"I try to keep my distance..." he murmured, breath shallow.
"But you—" his eyes rested on Nil, dark and searching, "you keep finding your way back into my life."
"Again... and again."
His words were not a complaint. They were not even a question.
They were a confession.
"Why, Nil?" he whispered, as if the name itself hurt to say.
"Why do you make things so difficult for me?"
Nil's hands were still clutching Kao's wrist, the warmth of blood barely seeping through the cloth. But it wasn't just the wound that troubled him—it was the person in front of him.
He had never seen Kao like this. Unrestrained. Breathless. Fury slipping out from the cracks of his polished shell.
"I saw you like this first," Nil said, voice barely above the wind. "And I was... scared."
He lowered his eyes. "Why were you so angry? I could've handled it. I was trying to deal with them myself—"
"Deal?" Kao snapped, interrupting him, his tone harsh with disbelief. "Deal with what?"
"You could've gotten hurt," he growled, his brows drawn low.
Nil stiffened. "I'm a man," he said frankly, "a few punches won't kill me."
Kao turned to him sharply, gaze laced with a faint sneer. "And what about my punches? Can you take those too?" ''Mr. Man...''
Nil fell quiet at that. He looked away, a flicker of fear and uncertainty passing through his eyes.
"...Let's just go," he muttered, trying to change the subject. The adrenaline had worn off. His limbs ached, the street was dark, and silence had begun to press in on all sides.
As they stepped forward together, Nil glanced at him sideways. ''Café is not far, lets walk.''
"By the way... where's your car?"
Kao was quiet for a moment, then slowly looked up at the sky as if weighing something.
This is a good chance, he thought, a chance to walk beside him a little longer.
"My driver's on leave," he replied smoothly. "I was heading home myself. Then my car stopped. Right there." He gestured vaguely behind him.
Nil blinked. "Stopped?"
Kao gave a soft hum in place of explanation. "And then I saw them—those three—walking behind you."
"Then... what about the car, behind?"
"I'll call Shian," Kao replied without pause. "He'll take care of it."
Then, almost as if scolding himself under his breath, he muttered, "And I, even lied today."
His tone wasn't angry. It was quiet. Almost... lost.
They walked.
Step by step, side by side, yet the silence between them stretched longer than the road beneath their feet. Their pace was slow, as if neither wished to reach the end too soon. Overhead, the night sky scattered with blue, red, and silver stars shimmered like lanterns suspended in a boundless void, their soft glint quietly illuminating the narrow path.
Kao walked with his hands in his pockets, gaze lowered. Beside him, Nil looked forward—shoulders drawn, chin slightly lifted, as though focused on enduring the journey more than enjoying it.
At last, Kao broke the silence, his voice quiet but unmistakably direct.
"What's in your bag?"
Nil gave an awkward chuckle. "Ah... actually, I have two auditions tomorrow. So I thought I should buy new clothes."
Kao turned his head to look at him, his gaze unmoving. Nil scratched his head sheepishly and added, "I went to Bobae Market. Can you believe it? I got three T-shirts, two pants, and three shirts... all for just 150 baht."
He smiled, but there was a thread of pride in it—a worn but honest kind.
Still, Kao didn't say a word. He kept staring. And so, Nil continued, voice growing softer, like a thread unraveling.
"When I was in Bangladesh, my mother loved to bargain. She dragged me to the markets all the time. I hated it—found it embarrassing, even. She'd haggle over every coin. I'd always just want to pay the price on the tag and leave."
He paused, the corners of his lips twitching. "But now... now I understand."
A beat of silence followed. The stars seemed to listen, too.
"Every single baht counts when you're trying to survive," Nil said, his voice low and unguarded. "You never know when you'll need it. A coin saved today could mean food tomorrow."
"I earned 346 baht during the morning shift," he continued, as if reciting the story to himself more than to Kao. "Then I took a bus to the market. Walked through store after store, just trying to find something—even if it was one baht cheaper. Bargained every price down as low as I could."
His voice wavered slightly.
"And then I walked back to the café. All the way. Just to save money on the ride."
"I saved 196 baht today."
The wind passed gently through the quiet. The streetlamp flickered behind them. The weight of his words didn't ask for pity—only understanding.
Kao let out a low hum, neither agreement nor denial. "Mn... life is peaceful—until the moment you begin searching for what truly belongs to you."
Nil exhaled softly through his nose. "At least your life is comfortable."
At those words, Kao paused. His breath caught in his throat, and something untraceable flickered in his eyes.
"You went to the best school in France," Nil continued, his tone casual, but his steps slightly slowed. "You live the best life. You don't have to count coins, or wear worn shoes, or wonder if you can afford to be sick."
Kao walked quietly, his gaze lowered, eyes fixed on the uneven cracks of the road. "I don't want to sound ungrateful," he said at last. "Truly, my father gave me every luxury a man could dream of."
A pause.
"But sometimes... I wonder if that's what I ever wanted at all."
His voice was still calm, but something in it trembled, like the surface of a lake stirred by wind.
"Maybe—" he went on, "maybe if all of this had been handed to someone else, someone with a steadier heart and a clearer mind, they might have done better than me. More worthy. More capable."
Nil laughed softly—not mockingly, but with an odd brightness that startled even himself. "I don't think so," he said.
Kao turned to him. In the streetlamp's glow, Nil's face looked quietly radiant—his eyes half-tired, half-shining.
"I don't know everything about you," Nil continued, "but what I do know—makes me believe you're kind. And you're doing your best. I don't know if someone else could've carried all this better. "
Then he added, simply: "You're amazing, Stranger."
It was not a grand compliment. Not poetic. Not extravagant.
But when Kao heard it, his heart skipped a beat.
He stopped walking.
He didn't mean to—but his body froze on its own, as though those words struck a chord too deep to name. Nil kept walking a few more steps before realizing he was alone. He turned back.
"Stranger?" he called. "What's wrong?"
Kao blinked, as though awakening from a dream.
"...Nothing," he murmured. "I just—"
But he didn't finish the thought. Instead, he caught up, walking beside Nil once more.
They walked side by side, the night wind brushing gently past, silent save for the soft rustle of leaves and their matching footsteps. After a long pause, Kao suddenly spoke.
"And how's your girlfriend?"
The question came so abruptly that Nil almost tripped on the uneven ground. He blinked, stunned, before bursting into a soft laugh.
"What?"
Kao turned his head toward him, brows furrowed. His voice was even, but his expression betrayed a subtle tension. "Why laugh?"
Nil raised both hands as if to surrender. "I'm not laughing at you. It's just... that question—it's so unexpected." He glanced sideways with a teasing smile. "And who told you I have a girlfriend?"
Kao didn't respond at first. His gaze remained fixed ahead, sharp and unreadable in the dim light. Then he said flatly, "You don't have to lie. I saw her hugging you. Mary."
"Oh, that?" Nil chuckled lightly. "I was just really down that day. Too many rejections. She was trying to cheer me up."
There was no reaction from Kao.
Nil tilted his head, eyes narrowing with mischief. "But why are you asking me this?" he asked, voice deliberately curious. "Are you concerned about her, Stranger?"
He paused, then added with exaggerated innocence, "Do you like her?"
Kao abruptly halted.
He turned his head slowly, his expression unreadable—like a moon hidden behind a veil of clouds. For a long second, he stared straight at Nil, as if considering something far too complicated to say aloud. Then, with a faint frown tugging at the corner of his lips, he muttered lowly—
"No."
Though his heart trembled with joy, Kao kept his expression carefully guarded, not allowing the stirrings within him to surface. The night air was quiet, and their footsteps fell in rhythm. But suddenly, Nil cried out—
"Strangerrr!"
Before Kao could react, Nil had dropped to the ground, his knees pressed into the dirt, hands splayed protectively beneath Kao's feet.
Startled, Kao stumbled back a step, swiftly pulling his foot away as if he had accidentally stepped on something sacred.
"Nil—are you mad?" Kao crouched down, grasping Nil's wrist with a touch that was almost too gentle. "What are you doing?"
Nil looked up at him with a soft smile, his lashes slightly damp with evening dew. Slowly, he opened his palm. Resting there, trembling slightly, was a tiny, harmless insect.
Kao blinked. "...For this?"
Nil held up the small bug carefully, shielding it from the breeze as if it were a treasure.
"Ahh, Stranger," he said with quiet warmth, "maybe it's just a bug to you. But even something so small carries life... a life given by Heaven. And if we can't create life ourselves, what right do we have to take it away?"
His voice was light, almost teasing, yet the words landed like a stone dropped into still water, sending ripples deep through Kao's chest.
Nil turned his palm a little, allowing Kao to look closer. "Don't you think he's cute?" he added gently.
Kao said nothing. For a moment, he could only stare at the delicate creature in Nil's hand—and at the hand itself, slender yet firm, steady and kind. His throat tightened inexplicably.
When they finally arrived at the café, the street was hushed and the building stood quietly under the stars. The sign was dark. The shutters drawn. All the lights inside had gone to sleep.
Nil reached and turned to him. "You can come in."
But Kao stood motionless at the steps, his hands in his pockets, his gaze tilted just slightly toward the ground.
"...No need," he said at last. "This is far enough."
His voice was calm, but something about it was off—too calm, as if his heart had long since spilled over, and now he feared that even a breath more might betray him.
Nil's lips parted, about to say something—
But just then, a sharp honk rang out across the quiet road. A sleek black Audi rolled up to the curb, its headlights casting long shadows. In the driver's seat, Shian leaned forward and called, "Kao, let's go!"
Nil blinked, his brows knitting slightly. "Stranger... didn't you say your car had broken down?"
Kao tensed, ever so slightly. The silence that followed was like a crack in ice—thin, delicate, but spreading fast. His lips opened, but no words came.
Sensing the danger, Shian immediately stepped in. "That's not the same car," he said smoothly. "The other one is already in the garage. This is... one of the others."
Nil tilted his head, unconvinced. "Looks identical."
With the unshakable calm of someone long used to covering up a young master's blunders, Shian offered a flawless lie with a pleasant smile: "It's because Mr. Kao really likes this model. So we've got... three. Same look, same color. Please don't be confused."
Nil stared for a moment, then softly hummed, "Mn."
Kao exhaled, the breath slow and quiet, as if finally releasing a stone he'd been holding behind his ribs.
"It's late," he said. "You should go in and rest."
Nil nodded faintly.
The car door swung open, and Kao stepped inside. A soft click followed as it shut behind him. Moments later, the engine hummed to life, headlights washing the street in pale gold as the black Audi eased forward and disappeared into the dark.
Nil stood under the awning, watching the red tail lights vanish. Only then did he turn toward the café and press the doorbell.
The door creaked open, revealing Mary in her pajamas, eyes wide with alarm.
"You—what happened to you?"
Nil smiled faintly, as if he couldn't decide whether to laugh or fall over. "I'll tell you," he murmured, "but let me freshen up first..."
Without another word, he stepped inside.
—
Inside the car, silence hung heavy.
Kao sat motionless in the backseat, one hand gripping the door handle, the other pressed against his temple. His expression was unreadable—eyes dim, brows lightly furrowed.
A beat passed.
Then, with sudden sharpness, he asked, "Why... did you bring this car?"
Shian, from the front seat, glanced nervously into the rearview mirror. "Because..." he began, cautious, "you told me only to pick you up from SunMoon Café."
"I was on my way somewhere else in an autorickshaw," he continued. "But as I passed by the main street, I saw your car parked with the door open and the keys still inside. So I brought it."
"And mine had a mechanical issue this afternoon," he added. "I took it to the garage. If you'd told me to bring another one, I would have."
The explanation hung in the air, calm and methodical.
But Kao said nothing.
He turned his gaze toward the window, watching the city lights blur against the glass like silent fireflies. His breath fogged faintly against the pane. After a while, he muttered—half to himself, half to no one at all—
"...What if Nil had found out?"
He leaned his head against the window.
"How embarrassing."
"...I really am getting sillier by the day."
"I have everything—
but in front of him, I cannot even hold a lie."