Arthit barely registered the passage of time anymore. Exam season had a way of warping reality, turning days into an endless loop of studying, test- taking, and more studying. The cycle never seemed to break, and the concept of time itself blurred into irrelevance.
All he knew was what he needed to read that day and which exams loomed on the horizon. Even so, he barely kept track of himself. Whatever Tonfah was reviewing, Arthit followed suit. If Tonfah said an exam was scheduled at a certain time, Arthit simply went along with it.
Exam, study, Exam, study again. Rinse and repeat. It was a twisted, relentless rhythm that left little room for anything else.
Whoever claimed medical students didn't sleep was a liar. He got a whole three hours of sleep, didn't he? That was practically luxurious. Who could possibly be getting more rest than him? Oh, right. There was one. Annoying as hell.
"Thit, stop messing with it," Tonfah scolded, eyeing him with mild exasperation as Arthit toyed with George, the faculty's resident dog. It wasn't fair. Why did a dog get to sleep all day while he was drowning in textbooks?
If anything, George deserved to be kicked just for existing so peacefully in the middle of his suffering. Not that he'd actually do it. Probably.
"Stupid dog," he muttered under his breath, tugging at George's ears, cheeks, and paws in an attempt to provoke some sort of reaction. The lazy mutt barely cracked an eye open, threw him a look of pure indifference, then promptly went back to sleep.
Clearly, George had suffered through Arthit's antics too many times to bother entertaining him. These days, the moment the dog spotted him, he made a point to walk the other way. Ungrateful little bastard.
"I should squeeze your balls just for that," Arthit grumbled.
"My friend is officially talking to a dog now," Johan deadpanned, standing with his arms crossed as he waited for Arthit to finish his pointless standoff with George. "Can we go? I'm starving."
"Yeah, yeah," Arthit relented, rising to his feet. But not before flicking George's ear one last time. The dog didn't even flinch. Must be nice, living a life of luxury. Arthit wasn't sure when he reached the point of being jealous of a damn dog, but here he was.
After grabbing food with his friends, they all went their separate ways for the afternoon exams. The moment Arthit got back, he collapsed onto his bed, falling into a deep, dreamless sleep. By the time he woke up, the clock read 8 P.M. He stretched, feeling momentarily refreshed—like a corpse resurrected from the dead—before stepping out onto the balcony for a cigarette.
Honestly, if he had more time, he'd probably put on some porn to unwind, but he didn't. In ten minutes, he had to drag himself back to that damn coffee shop to study.
He hated that place. His brain had permanently associated it with academic suffering. Even after exams ended, he swore he wouldn't so much as drive past it.
As he exhaled a slow stream of smoke, his eyes drifted next door, landing on Daotok cradling a black cat. The feline immediately caught his attention.
One blind eye, a naturally mischievous expression, and unmistakably male.
Arthit narrowed his eyes. Just looking at it made him want to squeeze its balls.
What the hell was wrong with him? Why did he keep wanting to do that to every animal he saw?
Hey, cat balls were surprisingly soft. Yeah, he was definitely losing his mind from sleep deprivation. Not that anyone should expect rational thoughts from him at this hour.
"Hey," Daotok called out, noticing him.
"What?"
"Semester break is coming up."
"Oh, right." Arthit nodded. The last time they talked, it was about visiting his hometown. They had agreed to wait until his exams were over and Daotok's break started. With everything piling up, Arthit hadn't spared it a thought lately. "I've got three days of exams left."
"Okay. Let me know."
"Yeah," he replied simply, finishing his cigarette and heading back inside.
Another night of endless studying awaited him, and he was already exhausted just thinking about it.
As he packed his things, a notification from Line distracted him. Their usually dead four-person group chat had suddenly come alive.
[MED. (4)]
[TONFAH] : @Jhan @H. @A
[TONFAH]: [Created an album].
[TONFAH]: Exam scores from the other day.
[JOHAN]: What the hell, man?
[HILL]: Mad about the score?
[JOHAN]: Mad at Thit.
[ARTHIT]: Do you think you can treat me like a side chick forever?
[ARTHIT]: I won't let you anymore!
[JOHAN]: 555.
[TONFAH]: Damn it, 555.
[TONFAH]: Have you checked your score yet?
[ARTHIT]: Nope.
[ARTHIT]: If I don't look, I won't fail.
[HILL]: 12/50.
[HILL]: That's yours.
[ARTHIT]: Harsh, Hill.
[ARTHIT]: Jo is as bad as me LOL.
[JOHAN]: Are you going to drop the class?
[ARTHIT]: No way.
[TONFAH]: You sure about that?
[ARTHIT]: I'm shameless. Even if I fail, I won't drop.
[ARTHIT]: What about you, Jo? Drop out?
[JOHAN]: Probably not.
[JOHAN]: Too lazy. Maybe I'll ace the final by chance.
[HILL]: Dreaming of miracles, huh?
[JOHAN]: Yep.
[JOHAN]: Thit, you heading out yet?
[ARTHIT]: About to.
[ARTHIT]: Why?
[JOHAN]: Grab some fried bananas from the corner.
[JOHAN]: North' s craving them.
[ARTHIT]: What about this wife?
[ARTHIT]: Don't bother asking me. We're done.
[JOHAN]: What's wrong with you?
[ARTHIT]: No, I'm not buying it.
[JOHAN]: Thit.
[JOHAN]: Be serious, man.
[JOHAN]: You know I'm loyal.
[JOHAN]: To Hill, @H
[HILL]: 👍
[JOHAN]: I'm sure I'm making him blush.
[HILL]: You're making your father blush.
[JOHAN]: Oh, I thought you were embarrassed by me
[JOHAN]: Embarrassed by my father
[ARTHIT]: You asshole. hahahaha
[TONFAH]: Hill looks stressed, huh? hahahahahha
[ARTHIT]: Oh, aren't you together?
[TONFAH]: I'm at a coffee shop with Hill.
[TONFAH]: Jo went to eat.
[ARTHIT]: Then why don't you buy your own fried bananas?
[JOHAN]: It's a different direction.
[JOHAN]: You passed by here.
[JOHAN]: Send a picture.
[ARTHIT]: You pressured me again with the money transfer.
[JOHAN]: Bring the fried ones too.
[HILL]: Yeah, Tith, please get one bag.
[HILL]: Two bags, actually.
[HILL]: Send a picture.
[ARTHIT]: You guys transfer money really fast.
[ARTHIT]: Fah, do you want it?
[TONFAH]: It's okay.
[ARTHIT]: Okay
Arthit sighed, stuffing his phone into his bag before finally heading out. He stopped by to grab the fried bananas for his friends along the way, resigned to his fate.
As He was about to go, his eyes caught a chat from Kram that he had muted notifications for a long time. Arthit hadn't checked what he was saying at all; he had dozens of unread messages.
☁️: Hey-
☁️: Arthit
☁️: I'm about to board the plane now.
☁️: Still no reply?
[ARTHIT]: What do you want?
[ARTHIT]: And why are you telling me?
☁️: Just read the previous messages, will you?
☁️: Okay, I'll say it again. I'm about to return to Thailand,
☁️: Please tell Dao for me.
☁️: Neither you nor Dao seems to care about my messages at all.
☁️: But Dao probably hasn't unblocked me yet.
☁️: You said he would come and talk, why is he still blocked?
[ARTHIT]: Why so fast?
[ARTHIT]: Didn't you say two months?
☁️: Isn't it already two months?
[ARTHIT]: Oh, really?
[ARTHIT]: Yeah, yeah.
☆☆☆☆☆
Daotok sat at his desk, his right hand moving steadily over the sketchpad while his left absentmindedly toyed with the soft, squishy paw resting on his lap. Khun Jeon, his black American Shorthair cat, was curled up comfortably against him, a small source of warmth amid the quiet hum of concentration. There was something about Khun Jeon's paws that reminded Daotok of mangosteens—small, round, and oddly satisfying to hold.
It was a simple pleasure, one he savored as long as possible before Khun Jeon eventually hopped off his lap to find another place to nap.
If Daotok weren't drowning in work, he might have teased the cat a little more, but midterms had him in a chokehold. Only two or three exams remained before he'd be free, but freedom didn't come without its own burdens.
The thought of having to travel to California during the break weighed on him, an obligation he wasn't particularly eager to fulfill. With that in mind, he decided to check in with his neighbor, who confirmed that his own exams would also be finished in three days, just like Daotok's.
He hadn't bought cigarettes from Arthit in a while, so he no longer thought of him as the "cigarette seller guy." Not that it mattered now—smoking was no longer an option with Khun Jeon around. He supposed this was as good a time as any to quit for good.
The beautiful lighter he had bought from the neighbor, however, still sat untouched on his display shelf, just another part of his collection of intriguing objects. Daotok had a peculiar habit—he disliked calling people by their real names.
If there was an alternative, he'd use that instead. Nicknames rolled off his tongue more easily, whether it was "Meow's boyfriend," "North's boyfriend,"or "Ter's boyfriend." It wasn't personal, just the way his mind worked.
A message popped up on his phone. Arthit had texted him about a particular person's return. "That person" was back.
Daotok knew exactly who he was referring to. He recognized the cloud icon on the Line profile but never addressed him by name. Not because he couldn't, but because he didn't want to.
There was still time before they met, enough time to brace himself mentally. He told himself he was fine now, that he had moved on, and that Mr. Jeon had been his greatest comfort during it all. Still, the idea of seeing that person again stirred something within him.
He worked late into the night, the steady scratch of pencil against paper the only sound accompanying him. When he finally rose from his desk, he spotted Khun Jeon sleeping peacefully.
Unable to resist, he gave the cat a small nudge, careful not to disturb him too much. Khun Jeon wasn't conventionally cute—his pitch-black fur, common breed, and perpetually grumpy expression made sure of that—but Daotok adored him nonetheless.
The cat had been blind in one eye since before they met, possibly abandoned because of it. The thought angered Daotok. If that was the case, his previous owner had been a heartless fool. He would never abandon Khun Jeon. No matter what.
"This loyal servant will always stand by you, Khun Jeon," he murmured before finally heading to the shower.
The voices still lingered, though. Not from Khun Jeon, but from the past—the ones who had taken their own lives. He didn't let them bother him as much anymore, but they remained, like echoes trapped in the corners of his mind.
The next day, after finishing his exam, he found himself at the faculty's coffee shop, scrolling through his phone. It had been two days since his neighbor informed him of Kram's return. By now, he was probably already in town. Daotok hadn't unblocked him yet, though. He wasn't sure why he was hesitating.
He never really fit in with his faculty. He always worked alone, never joined freshman activities, and as a result, was never particularly well-liked.
Some classmates, especially the class president, seemed to look down on him. He didn't care much about their opinions. Their diligence, their drive —it exhausted him just watching them.
North was the opposite of him in every way. Loud, social, always surrounded by people. Sometimes, Daotok wondered what it felt like to be like that, to be effortlessly cheerful, to be the kind of person who could make others laugh. But then again, it sounded exhausting. He didn't think he had the energy for it.
His phone buzzed again.
[ARTHIT]: Kram's back.
[ARTHIT]: Haven't you unblocked him yet?
[DAOTOK]: I forgot.
[ARTHIT]: He's asking what day works to meet.
[DAOTOK]: Any day is fine.
[ARTHIT]: How about today?
[ARTHIT]: We are leaving for California tomorrow.
[DAOTOK]: Tomorrow?
[ARTHIT]: Yeah.
[ARTHIT]: Go meet him.
[ARTHIT]: Done with your exams yet?
[DAOTOK]: Yeah, I'm done.
[ARTHIT]: Alright, just talk to him and get it over with.
[ARTHIT]: Want me to come along?
[DAOTOK]: Sure.
[ARTHIT]: Let me know where.
[DAOTOK]: OK.
He hesitated for only a moment before finally unblocking Kram.
[KRAM]: Finally unblocked me!
[DAOTOK]: 5 P.M at xxx café.
[KRAM]: Alright.
[KRAM]: Today, right?
[DAOTOK]: Yes.
He sighed. It looked like he had no choice now. He debated Whatever to bringing Khun Jeon along but quickly dismissed the idea. His motorbike wasn't exactly pet-friendly, and the café probably wouldn't allow animals inside.
Instead, he spent a little time playing with Khun Jeon before showering and heading out. As the café came into view, his grip on the handlebars tightened slightly.
He parked his bike, took a deep breath, and stepped inside. The sight of the man sitting with his back to him made his stomach clench. Slowly, he walked over and sat across from him. Kram looked up, and their eyes met.
The moment stretched. And in that instant, Daotok realized something. He didn't love him anymore. His heart didn't race. It just hurt a little.
"Wow, your hair looks amazing," Kram greeted casually. Daotok didn't respond, simply glancing at the menu instead.
"How've you been?" Kram tried again.
"I'm good. How about you?" Daotok replied, voice neutral.
"Honestly? Not so great."
Kram looked different from the last time they had met. He seemed older, more put-together. The shirt he was wearing was an unfamiliar choice —he used to hate them. It was one of the few things Daotok still remembered about him. Everything else had faded.
Three, maybe four years had passed since their breakup. He couldn't recall Kram's favorite foods, the phrases he used to say, the little habits that once felt so familiar. All that remained were the things he had done.
And maybe it was time to let them go. Before he could say anything else, his neighbor arrived and took a seat beside Kram. A flicker of recognition passed between them.
"Arthit? Is that you?"
"Yeah. And you're Kram?"
"Yeah. What are you doing here?"
"Doing my job, obviously."
Kram scowled. "Still trying to keep it up, huh? Just leave."
"I asked him to come," Daotok interjected.
His neighbor clicked his tongue impatiently. "Have you two talked yet? Hurry up already. I want to get back to bed."
Kram exhaled. "Alright, Daotok. I'm sorry."
Daotok remained silent.
"For everything."
Daotok finally met his gaze. "For what, exactly?"
"Huh?"
Kram hesitated, his brown eyes flickering with unease. They trembled slightly as he let out a heavy sigh. Daotok kept his voice steady, calm,unreadable.
"Tell me. What are you apologizing for? Is there something I don't know yet?"
Under the table, his fingers worked silently to slip off his bracelet. It wasn't just a habit; it was a necessity. Without the barrier of the bracelet, he could sense emotions more clearly. He needed to feel the truth beneath the words.
Kram swallowed hard. "At first... I started courting you as a bet with my friends."
Daotok said nothing, his face shows no reaction. He waited.
"My friends thought you were too introverted, lost in your own world. They joked that getting close to you would be impossible. So they made a bet— whoever won you over would get the prize money."
"How much?" Daotok asked flatly.
A pause.
"How much?" he repeated.
"Five thousand."
Daotok nodded slowly. "I see. And you couldn't earn five thousand on your own?"
Kram flinched. "I approached you because of the bet, but... once I got to know you, I realized how wonderful you were. Thoughtful, caring, attentive. But because of the bet, I couldn't really express myself. I was afraid my friends would mock me."
Daotok nodded again, though inside, a wave of guilt from the other man's emotions began to suffocate him.
"I thought I didn't love you," Kram confessed. "I figured I was just using you, so I—"
"Started seeing other people," Daotok finished for him. Kram nodded slowly, shame weighing on his shoulders.
"Everything else you already know..."
"Say it."
Kram hesitated, avoiding his gaze.
"Say it," Daotok repeated, his voice firmer. Even though he already knew, he wanted to hear the words. Wanted Kram to confront the weight of his own actions. To drown in his own guilt.
A shaky breath. "Dao, I'm sorry. I was cheating while video calling you. I lied about my mom being sick to get money from you for gambling. I even stole cash from you—the time you were desperate, searching everywhere for that important sum you'd just received. I secretly sold your original artwork and lied to you countless times. Even though... even though you were so good to me."
"Jesus, you're disgusting," a voice muttered from the next table. Arthit furrowed his brow at the confession. "And here I thought I was bad. Damn, man, what's your deal? You're the worst of the worst."
"I know," Kram mumbled. "Do you really have to rub it in?"
"Of course I do. I can't hold back! That's so messed up. Why didn't you pick a better guy to date?" He turned to Daotok, shaking his head. "Pulling this kind of crap, does he think he's some hotshot? What a total scumbag."
Daotok ignored the interruption. His voice was eerily calm. "That money was supposed to pay for my grandmother's medical treatment."
Kram froze. His face drained of color. "I... I'm sorry."
"My family wasn't prepared to cover that amount, so I took it upon myself to pay. We barely made it in time because we were also building a new house at the time. My family was under so much stress, but you took that money and used it for gambling? Must've been so much fun for you, huh?"
Kram had no response. He sat there, shoulders hunched, face twisted in regret.
"Do you remember how you courted me at the start?" Daotok asked. "You picked me up and dropped me off every day. On rainy days, you gave me your jacket. In the mornings, you bought me grilled pork skewers. In the evenings, you waited for me to finish tutoring and took me home. I decided to love you because no one had ever been that kind to me before."
"Yeah," he whispered.
"I liked it. I liked your kindness." Silence.
"But I guess it wasn't real love for you, was it?"
"No. Honestly, I think I did love you, but it's just that back then—"
"Don't. Don't say you loved me."
He fell silent.
"It's disgusting."
Arthit let out a low whistle. "Wow," he murmured, half-impressed, half- intrigued. But Daotok wasn't performing. He meant every word.
"You only liked that I was naive. That I followed you around like a loyal dog. And now you come back, drowning in guilt, trying to convince yourself you're a good person. So? How is it? Do you feel better now? Do you feel like you've repented? And I'm supposed to forgive you, is that it?"
More silence.
"You stole my money. I suspected it. It's laughable how much I trusted you. You didn't deserve it. You even dared to steal my artwork. Did that piece sell well? How much did you get? Was it enough to buy drinks for your so-called friends? Or did they tell you it wasn't enough and demand more?"
Kram sat there, completely shattered. His guilt bled into the air, thick and suffocating, but Daotok refused to let it sway him.
"Dao..." Kram whispered, voice trembling.
Daotok sighed and took a sip of his green tea. This was everything he had bottled up for so long.
"I'm sorry. I'm really, really sorry," Kram said again.
"I don't forgive you."
Kram looked up, lost. "Then... why did you come to talk?"
Daotok stood up. "I just wanted to tell you that I'll never forgive you."
Kram reached for his wrist, but Arthit swiftly pulled him away.
"Enough already. If it were me, you'd be floored by now, man."
Daotok turned away. There was no forgiveness here. Not for someone like him.
He walked out, letting the past stay exactly where it belonged—behind him.
For a month, Daotok had turned this moment over in his mind, imagining different scenarios, different words, different ways to make him understand the pain he had inflicted. He had wondered if time would dull the ache, if distance would soften his anger, but when he finally sat across from him, the answer had been clear—there was no forgiveness to be given.
Some wounds didn't heal, and some betrayals weren't meant to be excused.
He had been faithful in love, and in return, he had been deceived, used, discarded. It was a cruelty he wouldn't wish on anyone, and now, because of that man, Daotok had lost faith in love altogether.
As he walked away from the table, a weight lifted from his chest, but another remained—he had let out his anger, spoken his truth, but it didn't erase what had been done.
Just as he reached the exit, his phone buzzed in his pocket. The screen lit up with Easter's name. He picked up immediately.
"What's up?"
"I was worried. How did it go? Did you talk?"
Daotok exhaled, stepping out into the cool night air. "Not really. I just yelled at him."
"Yelled at him?"
"Yeah."
"Oh, no issues then? If North knew, he'd definitely say, 'Good job.'"
A small smirk comes across Daotok's lips, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Yeah, no problems. I'm heading back now."
"Did you go hard on him?"
"I don't know. I let out as much as I could think of at the time. Honestly, there was more I could've said, but that was enough." His voice was steady, but he could still feel the lingering heat of emotions simmering under the surface.
"Got it. You're okay, though?"
Daotok glanced up at the streetlights, letting out a slow breath. "Yeah, I'm okay. Saying it all out loud felt like getting some payback. It's a relief."
"Good. I'm happy for you. Share it in the group later, the others are waiting to hear about it."
"I'll do that after I get home."
"Drive safely."
"Alright."
He ended the call and slid his phone back into his pocket. The night air was crisp against his skin, a quiet contrast to the storm that had just passed inside the café. He had said what he needed to say. Now, all that was left was to move forward.
☆☆☆☆☆
Kram let out a groan, rubbing his face with both hands, his fingers digging into his temples as he processed what had just happened. His voice came out in a mutter, half to himself, half to Arthit.
"Wow, that was harsh. Really harsh."
He wasn't exaggerating. Daotok hadn't raised his voice once, hadn't thrown a single curse word his way. But somehow, the sharp, measured words and the cold disdain in his eyes had cut deeper than any insult ever could.
Kram let out a humorless chuckle, shaking his head. "How could I forget? I'm not someone he loves anymore. Dao was never kind to begin with, especially not to someone who treated him so badly."
Arthit watched him for a moment, leaning back in his seat. "You don't have any friends at all?" he asked, not out of pity, just curiosity.
Kram let out a dry laugh, his gaze unfocused. "No. They were all just using me. Back then, I was scared of being alone. That group was cool, and I wanted to belong. So I did whatever they asked. But in the end, I was still just a dog to them."
Arthit exhaled sharply, unimpressed. "That's honestly pathetic."
Daotok had already left the café by now, and Arthit figured he should be leaving too. He had things to do, places to be. But before he could get up, Kram grabbed his sleeve, stopping him.
"Wait, Arthit. Stay and drink with me for a bit."
"No way, man."
"You got exams or something? I heard you were studying. Done yet?"
Arthit hesitated. "Yeah, I'm done."
"Then let's celebrate."
"..."
"I'll treat you to good stuff. Imported liquor."
Arthit scoffed, shaking his head. "You think someone like me can be bought with fancy liquor?"
...Actually, yes. Yes, You can.
He sighed, relenting, and sank onto the small sofa next to Kram, watching as the man downed drink after drink without stopping.
He looked utterly wrecked, a miserable shadow of himself. Arthit took a sip of his own drink, far more controlled, and thought about how deserved this all was.
"Honestly, you deserve this. If it were me, I'd beat the crap out of you for what you did. I don't even know how painful cheating is since I've never had a partner, but I know it's awful. And stealing money? Taking someone's work? That's unforgivable. Money is so damn important, man."
Kram let out a shuddering hiccup, his breath catching. "Hic...sob..."
Oh, great. Now he's crying.
"Honestly," Kram mumbled between sniffles, "I prepared myself to get chewed out. But seeing that look in his eyes, it hit me even harder. He doesn't love me anymore. And yeah, I deserve it. Thinking about it now, I really don't deserve forgiveness. All I can do is live with this guilt."
Arthit said nothing. What was there to say? He let Kram ramble drunkenly while he nursed his own drink. He'd planned to finally get a full night's sleep after exams, but here he was, drinking instead. Well, at least it was free—might as well call it a mini celebration.
"Have you ever had a partner?" Kram suddenly asked.
"No. Why?"
"Yeah, figures."
"Asshole."
"It's alright , I'll be going soon," Kram said abruptly, setting the bottle down. He hadn't even bothered with a glass, drinking straight from the bottle. "I'm not staying in Thailand permanently. Just stopping by before heading to work somewhere else."
"Okay."
"Do you think he felt better after yelling at me?"
Arthit shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe. Otherwise, he would've kept going."
"Yeah, you're probably right. At least he got some of his anger out."
"Sure."
"How's Dao doing here, anyway?"
"I don't know."
"You're not close?"
"Why would I be?"
"I thought maybe you liked Dao or something, so you decided to help."
"Yeah, right. Where'd you get that idea? Dao and I just have an agreement."
Kram muttered something about being the jerk who made Dao lose faith in love and started rambling about how amazing he used to be. Arthit tuned him out. He didn't care. It was just drunken nostalgia, nothing worth listening to.
After drinking enough for his liking, Arthit decided it was time to leave. He wasn't drunk—he had to drive home, after all. He glanced at Kram, who was now passed out on the sofa, looking utterly pathetic. No way was he dragging him home. Let him sleep it off right there.
Just as he stood, Kram stirred. "You leaving already?"
"Yeah."
"I'll head out too." Kram stumbled toward the exit, and Arthit didn't bother stopping him. He walked to his car, only to notice Kram lagging behind.
Then, without warning, Kram stopped, unzipped his pants, and—
"Hey!" Arthit shouted in shock. "What the hell are you doing?!"
Kram was pissing on his car tire. Rage flared hot and instant. As soon as Kram finished zipping up, Arthit lunged forward and punched him square in the jaw. "You bastard! That's disgusting!"
Kram stumbled back, barely staying on his feet. "Argh! Stop, Arthit! I'm sorry, you bastard!"
"How dare you?! There are plenty of other cars to piss on!"
"Ow! I'm sorry! I even bought you drinks!"
"You bought me drinks to listen to your drunken ramblings, not to piss on my car! That's the most dog-like thing ever!" Arthit growled, kicking him hard in the stomach, making him curl up in pain.
"Ugh!"
"You're lucky I don't piss on you now."
"Calm down! Don't take it that far! Ow! Okay, I'm sober now!"
"You're disgusting, you bastard." Arthit stomped on him one last time for good measure before stepping back, still seething. His car reeked, and he didn't even feel like driving anymore. A dog pissing on his car wouldn't have pissed him off this much.
"Ow! It was just pee! Ow, it hurts!"
"'Just pee'? What if it were your father's car?!"
Kram groaned, still curled up in pain, and Arthit yanked out his phone, dialing Direk. The man picked up quickly.
"Direk, send someone to swap out my car. Some drunk idiot pissed on my tire."
"What the hell?"
"Hurry up."
"Whose voice is that wailing? Damn, it sounds pathetic."
"It's the drunk guy. I'm stomping him."
"Chill, Thit. But yeah, stomp him a little. Seriously, who pisses on someone else's car?"
As Arthit waited for his replacement car, an idea struck him. He snapped a photo of Kram's pathetic, beaten form and sent it to Daotok.
[ARTHIT]: [Picture sent]
[ARTHIT]: I stomped him.
[ARTHIT]: It's over with this bastard.
[DAOTOK]: Thanks.
And with that, Arthit walked away, disgusted by the whole situation.