Arthit rested his chin on his palm, staring ahead at the professor who stood at the front of the lecture hall. The man's expression was as cold as ever, his tone sharp and unrelenting. It was hard to tell whether he was teaching or rapping—his words flew at a rapid pace, leaving slower students like Arthit scrambling to keep up.
It was as if he assumed everyone absorbed information as easily as Fah or Hill, the academic stars of the class. If only the professor would spare a thought for someone like him, someone who struggled to keep up with the flood of content.
"I'll skip this part; read it on your own," the professor announced abruptly.
Arthit exhaled in exasperation. "Damn it, skipping again," he muttered, swiping to the next slide on his tablet. Beside him, Tonfah was furiously jotting down notes, his fingers moving like they had a mind of their own. In contrast, Arthit's own screen remained mostly blank. Screw it. He could just get Tonfah to tutor him later and borrow his notes.
"Cover for me," he whispered to his friend before folding his arms on the desk and resting his head on them. The professor's voice, once an overwhelming rush of information, now transformed into a lullaby, lulling him into a deep sleep. It wasn't until someone nudged him that he stirred.
"Class is over, Thit." Arthit groaned, stretching his arms as he blinked the sleep from his eyes. He glanced around, watching his classmates pack up their belongings.
"How many slides today?" he asked lazily.
"The whole thing," Tonfah replied without looking up from his notes.
"Damn, the professor was on fire."
"There's a makeup class tomorrow, too."
Arthit groaned in frustration. "Another one? How much does he get paid? He's too damn diligent."
"You really shouldn't criticize the professor," Tonfah remarked as they made their way out of the lecture hall. The sun had already started setting, casting a warm glow over the campus.
Normally, after class, they would go their separate ways, but on occasion, they gathered for dinner. That meant a table filled with couples—his friends and their boyfriends—while he, the odd one out, either sat alone or at the head of the table.
Just as they reached the stairs, they spotted their friends' significant others waiting for them below. Arthit's gaze landed on North, still wearing his shop coat from earlier in the day. The first time Arthit had seen him in it, he hadn't held back his thoughts, bluntly telling North it didn't suit him at all.
North had shot back instantly, "Well, the lab coat doesn't suit you either."
And he was right. Arthit didn't know what the hell he had been thinking when he chose his major. He greeted North with a nod, and as usual, North invited him to play games later that night.
Arthit grabbed a quick meal from a shop behind campus before heading back to his dorm. Once inside, he showered, changed into something comfortable, and logged into the game. Within minutes, North sent an invite, and they queued up together.
"Hey, I heard you made my friend cry?"
Arthit frowned. "Huh?"
"Yeah, what did you do to him? That's messed up."
"I didn't do anything."
"No way. That guy's tough as nails despite looking quiet. Whatever you did must have been awful for him to cry. What did you do? Tell me."
"Go ask him yourself."
"He won't tell me. He just says you did something, but he looks like he holds a grudge against you."
"What the hell does he have a grudge against me for?"
"He said you made him feel bad. He hasn't cried in years, and now this. What did you do to my friend?"
"Damn, I didn't do anything! He cried on his own, felt bad on his own."
"So what did you do?"
"I said I didn't do anything."
"Not owning up to it, huh? You're the worst."
Arthit rolled his eyes.
"That little guy you picked on, he's super hardworking, you know? He doesn't bother anyone. He works, takes care of his cat, pays off his bike. He's quiet but tough inside. You must have hurt him so much for him to cry. I know you're kind of an ass, but I didn't think it'd be this bad. Damn, I shouldn't have considered you a friend."
"North, it's like you've been holding a grudge against me and finally got the chance to let it out."
"Just teasing, P'."
"Damn it."
"But seriously, why was he crying?"
Arthit hesitated before sighing. "Leave it."
"Why? You still haven't explained why you asked for his Line last time."
"Why do you need to know so badly?"
"Are you trying to hit on my friend?"
"Hell no."
"Well, if you are, I'll block you myself."
"Why are you playing in the bottom lane? Come help me in the top lane! They're ganging up on me here."
"Hang on, I'm pushing a tower."
"That's not your job! You're a mage; you should be helping me."
"Oops, forgot. Thought I was playing carry. Too late now. Fall back!"
Arthit groaned in frustration. "Fine, I'm leaving it. Damn tank's useless. Get your friend to play instead. Look at this tank, just wandering around the map doing nothing."
"That guy? He won't play with you. He can't stand you anymore."
Arthit scoffed. "What did I even do to him?"
"So, what's the deal with him, anyway? Tell me."
"It's none of your business."
"Are you trying to hit on him?"
"I said no!"
"Then why did you ask for his Line? Come on, Mr. Tough Guy."
Arthit exhaled sharply. "Fine, damn it. You know why?"
"Why?"
"My mom."
"Oh... I know she passed away."
"Yeah, I just wanted to talk to her."
"So you asked him to help talk to her?"
"Something like that."
"Got it. That's it? Took you long enough to say."
"Why do you care?" Arthit asked, eyes glued to the screen.
"Just curious. Oh, dragon's spawning in ten seconds. I'll scout the area."
"Okay."
Another hour passed, the game pulling them deeper into its world. The conversation flowed effortlessly between strategies and casual banter until a thought suddenly struck Arthit. His fingers hovered over the keyboard as he hesitated before speaking.
"North."
"Yeah?"
"Can I ask you something?"
"Of course. I'm everyone's go-to advisor. Maybe I should start charging— 10 baht per question."
"Rich people problems," Arthit teased, smirking.
"So? What's your question? Is it love? No way, not you."
Arthit rolled his eyes. "What do you think about someone crying on someone else's behalf?"
There was a pause on North's end. Then, his voice returned, laced with curiosity. "Huh? That little guy?"
"No, this is about my friend."
"Who's your friend?"
"Red... his name's Red."
North scoffed. "That fake name is really dumb. And why does someone else have to cry for Red? Why doesn't Red cry on his own?"
Arthit hesitated. "I don't know. I'm not Red though."
North hummed, his tone shifting into something more thoughtful. "I guess Red's not the type to cry, right? Keeps everything to himself. Never tells anyone what's wrong. He likes to act like he's the only one suffering. Damn, just tell someone! There are people waiting to listen, but he keeps it all in like an idiot. What does he think, that it's cool or something? In the end, he's the one who gets hurt. Damn idiot. It wouldn't kill him to let people see he's weak sometimes. Buffalo, What's with the act?"
Arthit let out a slow breath. North's words felt heavy, almost too personal. "Somehow I feel bad for Red. You have grudges against him isn't it?"
"Red would be happy if he knows you said that."
"It's from Johan Isn't it? Yeah, I figured. Jo the mouthy one. Tell him I'm not saying anything—that idiot."
North relayed the message, but before Arthit could even think of a response, Jo's voice came back through the mic. "Tell him, 'You won't die well, buffalo.'"
"Does that mean Red?"
"You mean Red?" North echoed.
"I mean you, Thit."
Arthit chuckled. "Alright, I'm scared now." The dynamic between North and Johan was always entertaining.
"So, what does Red feel about this whole thing?" North asked, his voice less teasing now.
Arthit exhaled, shifting in his chair. "I guess it's a little strange."
"No one's ever cried because of this, huh? Because he hasn't cried either."
"Yeah, something like that."
North let out a low hum, thoughtful. "Isn't it crazy? At least that pain got released, even if it wasn't from his tears, Red." A beat of silence stretched between them before North changed the subject abruptly. "By the way, you're half foreign, right?"
Arthit frowned. "Yeah, why? Why are you switching the subject?"
"Just asking. Was your name really always Thit?"
"No, you idiot. I was born on a Sunday, so my dad named me that."
"What's your real name?"
"Dylan."
"Cool name. D-Y-L-A-N?"
"Yeah."
"Can I call you Dylan?"
"No, idiot."
North chuckled. "Fine, fine. Can I ask something else?"
"Go ahead."
"If you want my friend to help, can you keep an eye on him? He needs to connect with spirits, and it takes a lot of energy. Last time, his face was so pale I thought he was a ghost himself. He doesn't eat much either. Please make sure he eats. If something happens to him, no one will be able to help you."
Arthit sighed. "Yeah, yeah, just make sure he eats, alright?"
"Don't let him drink too much coffee either."
"Damn, so picky. Just let him drink the damn coffee. Your husband still gets off on it."
"What? P'Johan only drinks one cup a day now, you didn't know?"
"Seriously? Damn, my friend finally quit caffeine." Arthit smirked. "Hey, North, I don't know if I should say this, but your friend..."
"The ghostrider? What's wrong with him?"
"He's got an imaginary friend named Emma. Same name as my mom."
North snorted. "Emma? Emma, Emma..."
"Damn, how old are you to be making fun of my mom's name, Nich?"
"Damn, that's my mom too," North said, laughing. "Seriously? An imaginary friend? That's wild. You've seen him talk to her?"
Arthit exhaled. "Yeah. He talks to her like she's real."
North hesitated. "Is that dangerous? Should he see a doctor?"
Arthit rubbed his temples. "I don't know if it's dangerous." He thought back to the way his friend spoke to the air, the way his eyes softened as if truly seeing someone there. At first, he hadn't thought much of it. But the more he dwelled on it, the more uneasy it made him.
"I may not look like it, but I'm training to be a doctor, so I can't just pretend I don't see it. It could be dangerous for both him and others—hell, for me too. If one day his imaginary friend tells him to grab a knife and stab me, what then?"
North was silent for a moment. "Do I need to take him to a therapist?"
"Up to you. You could ask him first, but he knows his friend is imaginary. He told me himself. It's like he's aware he created this person, but the thing is... I don't know what kind of person this friend is. If the friend turns out to be dangerous, that's a real problem."
"You didn't ask him? You're a doctor, aren't you?"
Arthit let out a sharp laugh. "I'll send Fah to go. Go, Fah, I choose you!"
"What the hell?" North laughed. "But don't think my friend's crazy. He might just be a little weird... no, scratch that, he's really weird. But I don't want anyone calling him crazy. You can say he's sick, though. That's fine."
Arthit's expression softened. "I haven't said anything. I don't like calling him crazy either."
"I'll ask him. If he's not dangerous to others, and if he doesn't want to see a doctor, then I won't take him."
"Yeah, that's fine. Everyone has different comfort zones."
The game continued in the background, but the weight of their conversation lingered.
☆☆☆☆☆
Daotok heard the knock before he reached the door. He had been expecting North; the man had called about fifteen minutes ago, saying he was coming over. Still, Daotok hadn't expected him to arrive so soon. As soon as the door swung open, North stepped inside, carrying a plastic bag full of snacks, which he casually placed on the table.
Daotok hadn't even asked why he was here, but he had a few guesses. It had to be related to the cigarette seller.
"You," Daotok said, his voice flat.
North blinked.
"Huh?"
"Sorry to jump straight to the point, but about Emma—" A moment of silence stretched between them before North finally spoke again. "He told me, but he didn't mean anything bad. We were just talking, and he thought I should talk to you. I'm just worried about you."
Daotok's expression remained unreadable as he tilted his head slightly, regarding North with an almost curious look. "North."
"What?"
"Aren't you scared?"
"Why would I be?"
Daotok's gaze darkened slightly, his voice eerily calm. "Well... Am I… scary?"
North frowned. "What are you talking about?"
"I have an imaginary friend, you know," Daotok continued, tilting his head further, as if studying North's reaction. "I talk to her like she's real. She might order me to hurt you right now. Aren't you scared?"
North sighed, shaking his head. "No. Don't try to scare me."
Daotok's lips quirked slightly. He had been messing with North, but the other man saw right through it. Still, it was amusing how casually North dismissed the notion.
"Otherwise, I wouldn't be here alone," North added before grabbing a snack from the bag and munching on it like it was any other day.
Daotok turned his gaze to the side, where Emma stood, pouting at North.
"Emma says you're mean. Why would you think she'd tell me to hurt you?"
North raised an eyebrow. "Are you talking to her right now?"
"Yeah. She's standing right next to you."
North stiffened for a brief moment before exhaling sharply. "Oh... okay.
Damn, I've got the chills now. Wait a minute... your room... yeah, let's talk outside."
Without another word, North grabbed his things and walked out of the room. Daotok let out a small chuckle before slipping on his shoes and, following him downstairs to a coffee shop.
The air was cool and crisp, the gentle drizzle adding to the ambiance of the day. Daotok sipped his cappuccino, enjoying the moment of calm. "So, did you come here just for this?" he asked.
North nodded, sipping his green tea. "Yeah. P'Johan's busy with makeup lecture."
"And what exactly did you want to ask?"
North hesitated before leaning forward slightly. "Did you really see it?"
Daotok held his gaze. "Yeah."
"A real person?"
"Yeah."
North exhaled, shaking his head. "Wow. That's wild. So... why Emma? Same name as P'Arthit's mom."
Daotok shrugged. "I used to watch Harry Potter. I liked Emma Watson."
North snorted. "So Emma's been with you since you were a kid?"
"Yeah. She first appeared when I was playing alone at a playground. I thought she was a ghost at first, but my grandma told me she wasn't. Just someone I created."
"Did she disappear as you got older?"
Daotok shook his head lightly. "No. And I'm glad. Emma's someone I can talk to about anything."
"You can talk to me about anything, too," North said, his tone casual yet sincere.
"I know," Daotok murmured, then met North's gaze. "But don't ask me to see a doctor. I'm okay with how I am. I don't want Emma to disappear."
North leaned back, arms crossed. "Yeah, I get it. I wasn't going to ask you to go anyway."
Daotok's gaze softened slightly before North suddenly changed the subject.
"By the way, what kind of person is Emma?"
"She's kind-hearted. Always caring about others."
North gave him a knowing look. "So... she's you?" A pause. "Wait. Are you just praising yourself?"
Daotok chuckled. "Not really. I never actually listen to Emma."
North laughed, shaking his head. "Yeah, that tracks. It's rare to see you being kind, except for us, of course."
A comfortable silence settled between them before North spoke again. "Are you feeling better now?"
Daotok studied him before smirking. "You were worried, weren't you? Otherwise, you wouldn't have driven all the way here."
North flicked Daotok's forehead lightly. "You know me too well. I just wanted to make sure everything was safe."
Daotok sighed, setting his cup down. "It's fine. I know what I'm doing and what I am. Don't worry."
"Good," North said, then hesitated. "By the way... about P'Arthit."
Daotok's expression darkened immediately. "Don't bring him up."
North raised a brow. "I have scolded him, so don't hate him too much. Half the country already hates him anyway."
Daotok scoffed. "You scolded him?"
North nodded with a chuckle. "If, in the end, we can't find her, what happens then?"
Daotok exhaled, looking up at the rain-speckled sky. "Then someone will have to accept the reality. My job is just to search. Beyond that... I don't know."
"It's been seven years. Time doesn't heal everything, does it?" North muttered.
Daotok didn't respond right away. Instead, he let the quiet stretch between them before finally whispering, "No. It doesn't."
North sighed. "So, do you have to go to California with him?"
"Maybe during the school break," Daotok admitted. "But I don't know if my savings will be enough."
"He should at least cover the ticket."
"Yeah. He really should."
North snorted. "If he doesn't, that's just cruel."
Daotok hummed in agreement before suddenly tilting his head toward North. "Hey."
"What?"
"Go beat up the person who made me start smoking again."
North blinked. "What? Do you think I'm some kind of thug-for-hire?"
"Please? Beat them up so bad they end up in the hospital."
North groaned. "At this point, I should start charging you."
Daotok smirked. "Thirty thousand."
North burst out laughing. "So now my friend is paying me thirty thousand to beat up their ex."
Daotok simply grinned. "Sounds about right."
North shook his head, chuckling. "Damn, you're giving me a headache."