Prem pulled into his building's parking garage, still riding the high of a perfectly executed evening. Everything had gone exactly as planned. Better than planned, even. Korn was safe from Mark's manipulation, his friends had seen how much Prem cared about him, and by Sunday night, they'd have had their first real date. This time would be different. This time he'd do everything right.
The elevator ride to the twentieth floor felt longer than usual, his mind already racing ahead to tomorrow's moves. He'd text Korn something sweet in the morning, maybe send flowers to his dorm. Start establishing the pattern of constant attention that would make Korn crave his presence.
But as the elevator doors opened on his floor, Prem's satisfaction evaporated. Bank was sitting on the floor outside his apartment door, arms crossed, expression grim.
"We need to talk," Bank said, standing slowly. "And this time, you're going to tell me the truth."
Prem's hand tightened on his keys, his mind quickly calculating responses. "It's late, Bank. Whatever this is about can wait until—"
"No." Bank's voice was flat, final. "It can't wait. Not anymore. Not after what I saw tonight."
There was something different about Bank's demeanor, a steel that Prem had rarely seen from his usually easy-going friend. This wasn't going to be another conversation he could deflect or charm his way out of.
"Fine," Prem said, unlocking his apartment door. "But keep your voice down. These walls aren't as thick as you'd think."
"I do live in the building too, you know," Bank replied dryly.
Bank followed him inside, and Prem gestured toward the living area. The apartment was immaculate as always, every piece of expensive furniture in its designated place, the floor-to-ceiling windows offering a perfect view of the Bangkok skyline.
Prem went to the fridge and pulled out two beers, offering one to Bank. "Drink?"
Bank took the beer and headed for the sofa. "I'm here because I can't sleep knowing what you're planning to do to that kid."
"His name is Korn," Prem said mildly, taking a sip of his drink. "And I'm not planning to do anything to him. I'm planning to take care of him."
"The way you took care of Pin?"
The name hung in the air between them like a physical blow. Prem's hand stilled halfway to his mouth, the beer tasting bitter going down.
"Don't." Prem's voice was dangerously quiet. "Don't bring him into this."
"Why not? Because it's too painful to remember what your 'love' actually does to people?" Bank stepped further into the room, his fear finally giving way to anger. "Or because you know exactly what you did to him and you're planning to do it again?"
Prem set down his glass with deliberate control. "Pin was different. He was... fragile. Unstable. This isn't the same thing."
"Isn't it? Because from where I'm standing, it looks exactly the same. You found someone vulnerable, someone who needed to be rescued, and you swooped in like their savior." Bank's voice was getting louder despite Prem's earlier warning. "You isolated him from his friends, made him completely dependent on you, and when he finally tried to leave—"
"He didn't try to leave," Prem snapped. "He was confused. Those people were filling his head with lies about me, making him think I was controlling him when all I ever did was love him."
"Love him?" Bank stared at him in disbelief. "Prem, you followed him everywhere. You went through his phone, controlled who he could talk to, where he could go. You made him quit his part-time job because you didn't like his coworkers. That's not love, that's ownership."
"I was protecting him!" Prem's composure finally cracked, his voice rising. "He was too trusting, too naive. People were taking advantage of him, using him. I was the only one who actually cared about what happened to him."
"And look how that turned out."
The words hit Prem like a slap. For a moment, something vulnerable flickered across his face – grief, guilt, maybe even genuine remorse. But it was gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced by the cold calculation Bank had learned to fear.
"Pin's death was an accident," Prem said quietly. "A tragedy. But it wasn't my fault."
"He jumped off the school roof after you told him you wouldn't see him again. After you took everything away from him - his friends, his job, even his family didn't want anything to do with him. God, man, we were eighteen years old. What did we know about love anyway for you to control someone's life like that? And when you were done, you just cut him off. What did you think would happen?"
"I never told him to—"
"You didn't have to!" Bank exploded. "You systematically destroyed every other relationship in his life until you were all he had left. And when you got bored and cut him off, when he realized he had nothing and no one left, he couldn't see any other way out."
Prem was quiet for a long moment, staring out at the city lights beyond his windows. When he spoke again, his voice was eerily calm.
"What I feel for Korn is different. Plus he's stronger than Pin. You knew yourself Pin had mental problems. Korn would never do anything like that."
The casual dismissal of Pin's death, the immediate pivot to planning Korn's future, made Bank's blood run cold. This was the Prem he remembered from high school – the one who could justify anything if it served his purposes.
"Listen to yourself," Bank said quietly. "You're already planning how to manage him better than you managed Pin. You're treating this like a business problem to solve, not a human being to love."
"I do love him." For the first time that night, Prem's voice carried real emotion. "I love him more than I've ever loved anyone. More than I loved Pin. That's why it'll be different this time."
"No, it won't. Because you don't know how to love someone without owning them. You don't know how to care for someone without controlling them. And Korn is going to end up just like Pin if someone doesn't stop you."
Prem turned from the window, and Bank saw something dangerous flash in his eyes. "Are you threatening me?"
"I'm warning you. Stay away from Korn. Find someone else to fixate on, get therapy, move to another city – I don't care what you do. But leave that kid alone."
"Or what?"
Bank met his stare steadily. "Or I'll tell him everything. About Pin, about what really happened, about what you're really like when you don't get your way. I'll make sure he knows exactly what kind of person you are before you can sink your claws any deeper."
Prem's smile was sharp and cold. "You think he'll believe you? Some jealous friend trying to sabotage his new relationship? Especially after tonight, after seeing how much I care about him, how willing I am to protect him?" He laughed softly. "You'll just sound like Mark, trying to poison him against me."
The comparison stung because Bank knew it was partially true. Prem had positioned himself perfectly as Korn's rescuer, his protector. Any warning would sound like jealousy or manipulation.
"Maybe," Bank admitted. "But I'll still try. Because someone has to. Someone has to care enough about him to risk looking like the bad guy."
"The bad guy?" Prem's voice turned incredulous. "I'm the one who saved him tonight. I'm the one who stood up to his abusive ex, who made him feel valued and wanted. I'm the one who's going to give him everything he deserves. How does that make me the bad guy?"
"Because you're lying to yourself about your motives. This isn't about what Korn deserves – it's about what you want. And what you want is to own someone completely, to have someone who can't exist without you." Bank shook his head. "You've convinced yourself it's love, but it's not. It's possession."
Prem was quiet for a moment, considering. When he spoke again, his voice was thoughtful, almost clinical.
"You know what the difference is between me and Mark? Mark was ashamed of Korn. He hid him, treated him like a dirty secret, made him feel worthless. I'm going to worship him. I'm going to make him the center of my universe, show him off to everyone, make him feel like the most important person in the world."
"Until he tries to leave."
"He won't want to leave. Why would he? I'm going to give him everything Mark never could. Attention, affection, security, status. I'm going to make him so happy he'll never even think about leaving."
The calm certainty in Prem's voice was more terrifying than any threat. He genuinely believed his own delusion, convinced himself that suffocating love was the same as genuine care.
"And if he does want to leave?" Bank pressed. "If he decides he needs space, or wants to spend time with his friends, or just wants some independence? What happens then?"
Prem's expression darkened. "That won't happen. I'll make sure of it."
"The way you made sure with Pin?"
"Pin was weak," Prem said coldly. "He let other people influence him, fill his head with doubts. He chose to listen to people who didn't understand our relationship instead of trusting in what we had together."
"And then that's when you ripped the rug from out under him, took what little hope he had left, right? Isn't that how it started, Prem?"
"He chose wrong."
The simple, matter-of-fact way Prem said it made Bank's stomach turn. There was no grief in his voice, no genuine remorse for Pin's death. Only frustration that his victim had escaped his control in the most final way possible.
"I'm done," Bank said, moving toward the door. "I'm done pretending you're still the friend I grew up with. I'm done making excuses for you or hoping you'll change. You're dangerous, Prem. You're going to destroy Korn the same way you destroyed Pin, and you'll convince yourself it's love right up until the moment he—"
"Until he what?" Prem's voice was silky, threatening. "Finish that sentence, Bank."
Bank stopped with his hand on the door handle. "Until he realizes what you really are and tries to get away from you. And we both know how that story ends."
"It ends with me taking better care of him than anyone else ever could. It ends with him being grateful that I saved him from a life of settling for less than he deserves."
"It ends with another funeral," Bank said quietly. "And you standing there playing the grieving boyfriend while the rest of us know the truth."
He opened the door, then paused. "I will be watching. And if I see that kid pull away from his friends or anything like I saw back then, then I hope you get my message loud and clear. I mean what I said - I won't let it happen again. If you love him like you say you do, then I better see true love coming from you or else..." He let his words hang in the air.
Prem's laugh followed him into the hallway, cold and amused. "Good luck with that. But remember – I have something you don't."
"What's that?"
"I have Korn's attention. His interest. His gratitude. His phone number." Prem's smile was sharp with triumph. "I have access. What do you have?"
Bank stopped and said, "You're lucky you're my best friend or I would beat your ass right here."
But as Bank walked away, he was already forming a plan. If he couldn't convince Korn directly, maybe he could find another way. Maybe he could find proof of what Prem had done to Pin, evidence that even someone infatuated couldn't ignore.
Behind him, Prem closed the door and returned to his beer, mind already moving to tomorrow's strategies. He knew Bank was doing what he felt was best for him and for Korn. What did he mean by "I don't know how to love"? If he didn't love Bank, he would have put an end to that friendship years ago. Only a real friend would stand in your face and tell you that you're fucking up, and he respected him more for that. But Bank didn't understand - this time really would be different.
He'd be smarter, more careful and understanding. Have more trust and faith. The way he feels about Korn is nothing like what he felt for Pin. He understands now how to balance his emotions and his need to control. Korn would have his freedom. He'd learned from his past.
Korn would never feel trapped because Prem would make sure he never wanted to leave. And if anyone tried to take him away...
Prem walked over to his desk and pulled out a folder. Inside were photos of Korn, notes he'd taken, information about him - his schedule, his favorite places, his friends' names. To Prem, it wasn't stalking. It was preparation. Research. Making sure he understood everything about the person he was going to love properly this time.
Meanwhile, across the city, Mark sat in his dorm room staring at his phone. Mint had called six times and sent a dozen texts, all variations of the same confused questions: What happened tonight? Who was that guy? Why did you leave me there? What the hell was all that about? Talk to me, I can see you read my texts.
He'd ignored them all, too consumed with replaying the evening's humiliation over and over in his mind. The way Prem had looked at him with such cold dismissal. The way Korn had defended a stranger over him. The public nature of his defeat, witnessed by half the campus. Hell, videos were already up and all over the internet.
His roommate had given up trying to talk to him and gone to bed hours ago, but Mark couldn't even consider sleep. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw that kiss. Possessive, claiming, everything Mark had been too coward to give Korn himself.
His phone buzzed again. This time it wasn't Mint.
Jay: "We need to talk. Meet me at the coffee shop tomorrow at 10 AM."
Mark stared at the message, dread pooling in his stomach. Jay's tone was never this formal, this serious. Whatever this was about, it wasn't going to be a friendly chat.
But Mark was too emotionally exhausted to deal with another confrontation tonight. He turned off his phone and buried his face in his pillow, trying to block out the sound of his own racing thoughts.
Tomorrow he'd deal with Jay. Tomorrow he'd figure out how to win Korn back. Tomorrow he'd prove that business student wasn't the hero everyone thought he was.
Tomorrow he'd make everything right.
But deep down, in a part of his mind he wasn't ready to acknowledge, Mark knew that some things couldn't be fixed. Some chances, once lost, never came again. And some mistakes were too public, too devastating, to ever truly overcome.
As the night wore on, three different men in three different parts of the city lay awake thinking about the same person. One planning his conquest, one planning his intervention, and one planning his revenge.
None of them thinking about what Korn himself might want.
None of them considering that maybe, just maybe, he deserved better than any of them could offer.