The case involving Min and Donut wrapped up far too easily. Daotok had imagined something grand, something worthy of an investigative thriller—a high-profile international drug ring, a brutal murder over an inheritance, or even a deep-rooted political conspiracy filled with betrayal and deception.
Instead, it had ended with barely a struggle, nothing more than a petty crime tied to personal grudges. It left a bitter taste in his mouth, like a meal that promised spice but turned out bland. He had even prepared himself for danger, convinced that if he became entangled in something that put his life at risk, he would make sure none of it traced back to his family.
His father, Gavin, and his grandmother, Phuangthong, had to be safe. He had even gone so far as to tell his father that if anything happened to him, all his savings should be used to take care of Khun Jeon, no exceptions. When he had voiced his disappointment, his father had only laughed.
"That's just like you, Daotok."
Maybe he should have known better than to expect something extraordinary.
A voice interrupted his thoughts. "Dao, I'm sorry."
Daotok sighed, rubbing his temples. "What are you sorry for?"
"I'm sorry I got killed. I'm sorry my case wasn't tied to international drug trafficking. I'm sorry it wasn't more exciting!"
"Ugh."
"Don't look at me like that!"
Donut, despite being a ghost, still had the audacity to sulk. It was hard to stay mad at him when he looked so genuinely guilty, even if Daotok didn't quite know what to do with their strange connection. Ever since the case had been resolved, Donut hadn't moved on. Stranger still, their link had grown stronger. Daotok no longer needed to take off his bracelet to see him —Donut was just there, a lingering presence in his daily life.
"What?" Donut asked.
"Nothing."
"...Okay."
Donut flopped onto the bed, clearly sensing that Daotok wasn't in the mood for conversation. Meanwhile, Daotok continued following up on the case.
O-Lin had turned herself in, confessing to everything. Min had pursued legal action, determined to see justice served. Nearly a week had passed since he last checked in, but it seemed everything was progressing as expected.
Then, the ghost spoke again, his voice unusually small. "Dao."
Daotok didn't respond.
"I'm scared." Daotok stilled. He wasn't sure he wanted to hear the rest.
"I'm scared I'll disappear," Donut whispered. "I'm just a ghost now. How can a ghost and a person love each other?"
The weight of those words settled heavily between them. Before Daotok could think of a response, Donut suddenly stiffened.
"There's someone here."
Daotok blinked. "What?"
"Shit, shit, shit," Donut stammered before vanishing.
A sharp knock echoed through the room. Daotok turned toward the door, hesitating before peering through the peephole. His brows furrowed in surprise.
"P' Min?"
The woman standing outside looked completely different from the last time he'd seen her. Gone was the worn, weary face he remembered from prison.
Now, she was dolled up in heavy makeup, her blonde hair curled to perfection. A crop top and jeans hugged her frame, a tattoo snaking along her stomach. When she pushed her hair back, her fake nails caught the light, gleaming with confidence. She looked—
Wow. She looked cool.
"Hey," she greeted.
Daotok hesitated. "Yeah?"
"Is Donut still here?"
That was the first thing she asked. No greetings, no pleasantries. Straight to the point. Daotok stole a glance around the room. Donut was huddled behind the fridge, eyes wide with panic, silently begging him not to reveal his presence. Daotok sighed, already regretting this.
"No, he's not here."
Min's eyes narrowed. "Huh?"
"...He's not here now."
"Liar," Min scoffed, stepping inside. "Not calling you that, calling him that." She scanned the room, eyes sharp, as if expecting him to materialize at any moment. "I just made merit for him. The monk said he's still around. Show yourself, damn it."
From his hiding spot, Donut let out a choked sob. Slowly, he stepped forward, reaching out to embrace her—but Min didn't react. She couldn't see him, couldn't feel him.
"I miss you too..." he murmured.
Min shivered. "What the hell? Why do I feel so weird? Is he hugging me right now?"
Daotok nodded.
Min frowned, then extended her arms, trying to reciprocate the embrace. Her hands passed through empty air. "Is this how it works?"
Donut winced. "Min, what's with the perfume? It stinks."
Min turned to Daotok. "Is he saying something?"
"Uh..." Daotok hesitated. "He says your perfume stinks."
"You asshole." Min rolled her eyes. "That's the first thing you say to me? It's not perfume, it's embalming fluid, you jerk!"
"That's harsh," Donut grumbled. "Don't you love me anymore?"
Min scoffed. "Of course I do! I miss you so much, you jerk. I've already put O-Lin in jail. Almost slapped her in court. She's going to get wrecked in there. My crew's everywhere."
"You took over the prison that fast?"
"I even scheduled a drink with the guards after I got out." She smirked.
"Man, making merit was such a waste. You're not warm like you used to be."
Donut didn't respond. Instead, he clung to her, as if afraid she'd vanish first.
Min sighed. "Keep hugging me, Donut. Where else will you find someone to put up with you?"
Daotok stepped onto the balcony and pulled out his phone. He dialed his grandmother.
"What's up, my dear grandson?"
"Grandma Phuangthong," he greeted. "Is there a way for someone without spiritual sensitivity to talk to ghosts?"
"Why would you want to? It goes against the natural order."
Daotok sighed. "Grandma, I've already been talking to them. We're practically close friends now."
"Oh, really? Hmm... a way to talk to them? Maybe try searching online. There's something... some kind of ghost connection method."
"...Searching online? Would that even work?"
"I don't know. Give it a try."
Daotok did. And to his surprise, it worked. By evening, Min could see Donut clearly. She cried even harder. Daotok, exhausted, left them to their reunion. As he returned later, he found them still deep in conversation.
He watched them for a moment before turning away. Somehow, he had a feeling this was only the beginning. Daotok looked at Donut, his face soft with quiet concern as the air between them hummed with tension.
Donut, a translucent presence caught between the realms of the living and the dead, seemed lost in thought, eyes heavy with a fear he couldn't shake. Daotok had always been the one people turned to when confusion and doubt overtook them, and he felt the weight of that responsibility now.
"Sorry, I got a bit carried away. I'll head out now," Min's voice floated in from the doorway, her tone light but edged with something Daotok couldn't place. She stood holding an umbrella, one of those old online tips in mind: opening an umbrella indoors could help reveal spirits.
Daotok didn't believe in such superstitions, but there she was, trying anyway. A few more words were exchanged between them, Min's figure retreating with a slight wave, leaving behind the subtle tension that had taken root in the room.
"You're leaving already?" Daotok heard Donut murmur, his voice tinged with something darker now.
"Don't be dramatic. I'll be moving in within two or three days," Min responded, her footsteps retreating.
The door clicked shut, but Donut stayed where he was, slumped in his usual place, a faint sadness hanging over him like a cloud. His gaze never left the spot where Min had stood.
"Why are you sulking?" Daotok asked, moving to set down his bag with an almost absent motion, his fingers brushing the leather strap as he glanced at his companion.
Donut didn't answer right away. Instead, he stared at the floor, a deep furrow between his brows. "I'm scared."
Daotok paused, the air suddenly feeling heavier. "Of what?"
Donut's voice trembled as he spoke, "I'm scared I'll disappear."
Daotok's heart skipped a beat. He turned to face him fully, setting his things down. "What do you mean?"
"At first, I thought I was here because I had unfinished business," Donut continued, his voice soft but desperate, as though the words he was saying were more for himself than anyone else. "But now that's all resolved... when will I disappear?"
Daotok exhaled quietly, walking over to the table where he began unpacking a few small items. His movements were deliberate, but his eyes never left Donut. "You won't disappear," he said gently, a steady calm in his voice. "You're not here just because of unfinished business. It's also because of your lifespan."
"Really?" Donut's voice barely lifted above a whisper.
"Yes," Daotok reassured him, continuing to unpack, his fingers brushing over the objects as if they grounded him in this moment. "You didn't take your own life. You don't have to repeat what happened to Proa or Eung. You were murdered, just like P' Cream. She's still around because her lifespan hasn't run out yet."
Donut's eyes widened slightly as the realization hit him, but there was still an uncertainty in his gaze. "Oh... really? But..." He hesitated before asking, "Is it okay for me to stay?"
Daotok paused, his hands stilling as he thought. "Why do you ask?" His tone was casual, but the depth of the question hung between them like a fragile thread.
"A person and a ghost, Daotok," Donut murmured, voice full of conflict.
"Min looks so happy. She's even planning to move back to be with me. But is that right? I don't have a physical body. Shouldn't I let Min move on and find someone real—someone who can take care of her?"
The room grew quiet for a moment. Daotok could sense the gravity of the question, but he didn't immediately answer. Instead, he turned back to the table and continued organizing his things. "Is P' Min the kind of person who needs someone else to take care of her?" he asked quietly.
"No," Donut responded almost immediately, as though the answer was obvious. "When we were together, she was the one taking care of me."
"And doesn't she still want to take care of you now?" Daotok's question was simple, but it was enough to make Donut pause. The ghost's expression softened, the doubt slowly lifting from his face.
"Yeah," Donut said quietly, a small weight easing off his shoulders.
"Thanks, Daotok. I feel a lot better now."
Daotok nodded slightly, offering a faint smile as his companion found some comfort in his words. "You're welcome," he said, turning back to his task.
His thoughts wandered for a moment, reflecting on the conversations he had with those around him. There was a softness in his heart now, a realization that love, in all its complexity, was a double-edged sword. Some loved well, and some loved poorly, but in the end, it was all the same—an unpredictable force. If you found good love, you were lucky.
But the thing about love was that it didn't always work out that way. By the time you realized that, there was no turning back. Suddenly, a voice cut through his thoughts, and Daotok's shoulders stiffened. "Michael misses him."
"Don't start," Daotok interrupted immediately, his tone sharp as he recognized the voice. The air shifted, and there stood Emma beside Donut, though he couldn't see her. Her presence was familiar but unnerving.
"Dao, who are you talking to?" Donut's voice was laced with confusion and concern.
"Michael is hurting," Daotok said, his voice tight with a strange edge.
"He's not hurting anymore," Emma replied, her voice cold and dismissive.
Donut turned to Daotok, his expression now a mixture of fear and frustration. "Daotok, who are you talking to? Another ghost? Why can't I see anyone?"
"Why does Donut talk so much?" Emma grumbled from beside him, glaring at Donut, who was still completely unaware of her presence. Donut looked back and forth between Daotok and the empty space beside him, his unease growing. "I feel uneasy."
"Why?" Daotok asked, a strange tension filling the room.
"Daotok, who are you talking to? I'm scared now," Donut's panic was palpable, his voice rising slightly in fear.
"He just reached out to talk to you," Emma said flatly, as though it were the most casual thing in the world.
"Never mind," Daotok muttered, a faint frown crossing his face. "I blocked him already."
"Good. Don't go back to him," Emma said firmly.
"I won't," Daotok replied, the promise slipping out without thought.
"Promise?" Emma's voice softened, as if seeking reassurance.
"Promise," Daotok repeated, the words sounding almost final, though they left him with an odd sense of discomfort.
Donut blinked, clearly confused by the conversation unfolding in front of him. "What promise? Seriously, who is Daotok talking to?" Daotok simply smiled, the confusion between them growing thicker with every unanswered question.
~~~~
Arthit leaned back in his seat, glancing across the room to see Min dancing with an energy that seemed boundless. Her movements were fluid, her hips swaying in rhythm with the music. The crowd around her was frozen, mesmerized by her every step. He couldn't help but watch, captivated by the way she commanded attention without even trying. The atmosphere was electric, and, if he was being honest with himself, part of him envied how freely she moved.
How does she do it? he wondered, a tinge of jealousy creeping into his thoughts. I wish I could move like that. After a while, Min, clearly exhausted from her performance, returned to their table, poured herself a drink, and downed it in one go.
"Min," Arthit called out, his voice calm but with a touch of amusement. She looked at him, her voice raspy from the exertion but still teasing.
"What?" she asked, a sly grin playing on her lips. "Want me, huh?"
Arthit raised an eyebrow, a smirk forming on his face. "Don't start with me, you pest. If I lose my self-control, you'll regret it."
Min leaned back on the sofa, her laughter light and carefree. "Bring it on. I'll finally have a doctor as my husband."
He scoffed, rolling his eyes. "And I'll have a former convict as my wife, huh?"
Min shot him a playful glare. "You ass, I'm out of prison now," she said, clearly not bothered by his teasing.
Arthit sighed, shifting slightly in his seat. "How's it going with Donut?"
"Fine," she replied with a shrug. "I've already arranged to move into the unit across from yours."
He looked at her with a touch of concern. "You sure about this?"
Min sighed, sitting next to him on the small sofa. "Yeah, I've thought it through." Her expression softened for a moment. "Nong Daotok said Donut's still around because his time isn't up yet. So, I'll stay with him until it is."
Arthit raised an eyebrow. "What if his time's up next month?"
Min let out a small laugh. "That'd suck. But you know what? I wouldn't regret it. I've already made peace with it. Sure, I'd be sad, but... it feels like he's really here, you know? We can talk, and I can even touch him."
Arthit, taken aback, turned toward her. "You can touch him?"
"Yeah, like when a ghost presses on you during sleep paralysis. Ever had that?" Min asked, her voice casual.
Arthit nodded, taking another sip of his drink. "Yeah," he replied, unsure of where this conversation was going.
Min leaned in, her voice dropping to a teasing whisper. "And you jerked off in front of a ghost, didn't you?"
Arthit froze, his drink halfway to his lips. "Did Donut tell you that?"
Min covered her mouth, trying to stifle her laughter. "Yeah. I couldn't stop laughing, Thit. You're so gross. Honestly, though, that female ghost must've been so restrained. If it were me, I'd have jumped you."
Arthit recoiled, laughing despite himself. "Gross. Really? That desperate?"
"Not desperate, just honest," Min teased. "And yeah, I can touch him sometimes, but not always. I probably need to do more good deeds for him. Maybe it's because we're still connected."
He chuckled, shaking his head. "Being able to touch him sounds convenient. Congrats, you've officially joined the show People Dating Ghosts ."
Min raised an eyebrow. "Or is it Ghosts Dating People ?"
"Fair point," he muttered. "But seriously, can people and ghosts even... you know? The world's so weird now."
Min shrugged. "If his time isn't up, he'll stay, right?"
"Yeah. Why?"
Arthit shrugged, trying to sound indifferent, though curiosity gnawed at him. "Just curious," he said, his voice dismissive.
Before Min could respond, a man approached their table, his voice loud and familiar.
"Min, it's been a while."
She didn't even glance up, her response dry. "Yeah, I've been in jail."
The man faltered, clearly caught off guard by her bluntness. "Sorry to hear about Donut."
"Thanks," Min replied, her tone still light.
"Min," the man continued hesitantly, "do I still have a chance?"
Min didn't miss a beat. "Nope. You're too small."
The man stood there, dumbfounded, his face paling as if struck. Arthit could barely hold back his laughter. Min, sometimes you're too blunt. The man, still stunned, tried to regain some composure. "What's so funny?"
"You," Arthit said simply, his smirk widening.
The man bristled, clearly trying to save face. "Looking for trouble?"
Arthit tilted his head, his smirk growing. "Why? You offering?"
Min, unbothered, shot the man a look. "Don't mess with my friend. Get lost."
The guy hesitated, but Min's tone left little room for argument. "Go, or my friend will shove you against a wall. Thit's aggressive, you know."
Arthit laughed, feigning surprise. "Did you even ask me first?"
The man, clearly defeated, walked away. Min let out a small sigh, her expression turning a bit more serious.
"That was harsh. Telling someone their size is small... it's probably the ultimate insult for a guy."
"Why?" Min asked.
Arthit amused. "It's true."
Min rolled her eyes. "He's a friend of a friend. We were drinking one time, and he told me he liked me. I turned him down, but he tried to assault me."
"What?! What happened?" Arthit asked, horrified.
"Nothing much," Min replied, her tone casual. "I cracked his head open. And now he's back, asking for a chance. Can you believe the audacity?"
Arthit laughed, shaking his head. "Why is being small a crime now? First, people discriminate against gender and skin color, and now size? Life's tough."
Min smirked. "Judging by the way you're talking, you're small too, huh? I can tell."
Arthit raised an eyebrow. "Wanna find out? I'll prove you wrong, and you'll regret it."
Min teased him further, batting her eyelashes. "Ooh, so confident. I wouldn't mind."
"Min, you're making me blush," he teased back, though his heart skipped a beat at her playful attitude.
"Calm down, man. You're like a pressure cooker. Seems like you've been deprived."
"I barely have time to drink, let alone anything else," Arthit replied with a wry smile.
"Poor guy. Aren't your other friends struggling too?"
"No, they're all married," he said, raising his glass in a mock salute.
"Then find yourself a girlfriend. You've got plenty of admirers already. Take your pick."
"Not interested."
"Not interested in love?" Min pressed, her voice filled with curiosity.
"Yup," Arthit answered firmly. "I'm more into... paying for it."
Min burst into laughter, clinking her glass against his. They continued drinking and chatting, the conversation flowing effortlessly, until the night wore on and it was time to head home. Min, who wasn't too drunk, drove him back to his apartment, where Arthit stumbled out of the car, barely able to find his keycard to open the door.
Once inside, he collapsed onto the bed, his mind heavy with the alcohol and the thoughts of Donut. After a few moments, nausea set in, and he stumbled into the bathroom to throw up. Sitting on the bathroom floor, he couldn't shake the feeling of emptiness that settled over him.
Min's so lucky, he thought bitterly. Even with Donut gone, she's still so lucky.
He grabbed his phone and called Direk, the one person who always seemed to answer, no matter the time.
"Direk," he muttered when the phone picked up.
Direk's voice was groggy, annoyed. "What is it, man? People are trying to sleep."
"Direk," Arthit repeated, his tone quiet and slightly slurred.
"What now?"
Arthit chuckled weakly. "Direk."
"Every time you're drunk, you call me. Am I your ex or something?"
"First you were my dad, then a friend, and now an ex. What's next?" Arthit joked, trying to lighten the mood.
Direk sighed heavily. "Funny guy. What do you want?"
"Nothing. Just... miss you," Arthit admitted, his words slurring as they left his lips.
"Are you okay?" Direk asked, his voice softer now.
"I'm fine. Just drunk. Rambling. Everything feels so overwhelming right now," Arthit said, his chuckle masking the real turmoil inside.
Direk paused, the concern clear in his voice. "I'll come by tomorrow."
"Why? Don't you have work?" Arthit asked, laughing again. "Your company's gonna go under without you."
"Watch your mouth. Sometimes I wonder if you were really my strongest sperm."
"Direk, stop calling me that. It's so gross," Arthit groaned, clutching his head. Direk had saved his contact as "Little Sperm" — the one nickname he'd never get used to.
"Well, isn't it true?" Direk said, laughing.
Arthit rolled his eyes, still chuckling. "What do you want?"
"What happened?" Direk's voice turned serious again.
Arthit hesitated, then sighed. "You remember Donut, the one who was murdered? He's still around. Says his time isn't up yet."
Direk was quiet for a moment, then answered softly. "I see."
"Direk..." Arthit started again, his voice shaking, but Direk cut him off.
"Don't say it."
"I know. I won't. It's impossible. Sorry, I'm just drunk," Arthit murmured.
Direk's voice softened further. "Forget it. Go to bed."
"Are you really coming tomorrow?" Arthit asked, needing reassurance.
"Yeah. Let's grab lunch."
"Don't you have work? I'll come to your office instead."
"Fine. Come by around 11:30. Wanna go to church after?"
"No, no thanks."
"Alright, I'm going back to bed. Early meeting tomorrow."
"Okay," Arthit replied, hanging up the phone with a heavy sigh.
He tossed the phone onto the bed, the weight of the conversation lingering. He couldn't shake the image of Donut from his mind, the emptiness pulling at him. The alcohol made his head spin, and he stepped out onto the balcony, shirtless, the cool air hitting him as the rain poured down.
A cigarette in hand, he stared up at the moon, the gray smoke curling around him. Damn. It hurts. He couldn't stop thinking about him, couldn't shake the longing. From the corner of his eye, he noticed his neighbor standing on the balcony, letting the rain soak him. The man was holding a can of beer and drinking.
He turned to look at Arthit, their eyes meeting for a brief moment before both of them turned away, uninterested.
"Got one for me?" the neighbor called over the rain.
"What?" Arthit asked, distracted.
"A cigarette" the man said.
"No" Arthit answered flatly.
"I'll trade you a beer."
"I just had it."
"Seems like you could have more."
"Fine. Bring me a can." Arthit agreed, and the man passed him a beer in exchange for a cigarette. They shared the quiet exchange without another word, each lost in their own thoughts as the rain fell around them.