Arthit set the water bottle down on the bench beside him, his gaze still fixed in the same spot. Across from him, Daotok sat slumped, his head nodding slightly before he jerked himself awake.
Despite the clear exhaustion evident in his features—the way his eyes drooped, the way he frowned as though scolding himself for even considering sleep—he stubbornly fought off drowsiness. It was almost endearing. No, not almost. It was adorable. Adorable? Arthit blinked, caught off guard by the thought.
In his entire life, he had never found anything particularly 'adorable.' Yet, here he was, encountering new feelings once again because of Daotok. At this point, he had stopped being surprised by it. Daotok had a way of stirring up emotions in him, emotions he wasn't used to, emotions he didn't entirely understand.
It was unsettling, but at the same time, he didn't mind it. Unable to resist, he reached out and ruffled Daotok's already-messy hair. Daotok let out a small noise of protest, barely more than a muffled whimper, before furrowing his brows in sleepy irritation.
The slight pout that formed on his lips only made Arthit want to scoop him up and squeeze him, a ridiculous urge he refused to entertain further. A small smile tugged at his lips despite himself.
"You're so cute, you know that?" he said before he could stop himself.
Daotok looked up at him, momentarily startled. But it was the reactions of the others around them that were more dramatic. North, who had been sitting next to Arthit, nearly choked on his own breath, his eyes widening to comical proportions.
Johan, standing nearby, froze mid-step, as though someone had just hit the pause button on his existence.
"What's with those shocked faces?" Arthit asked, raising an eyebrow.
North blinked several times before rubbing his face as if trying to wake himself from a dream. "No, no, P'. Just... just give me a second to process this. I need time to adjust to the fact that my P' isn't the same person anymore."
Arthit snorted, rolling his eyes. "You're being dramatic."
"The reactions here are mostly me and P' Johan, but look at my friend over there," North gestured toward Daotok, still sitting groggily beside them.
Arthit turned back to him. "Hey, even you were a little shocked, right? At least a little? Come on, admit it. Maybe even blush a little for me?"
Daotok furrowed his brows as if seriously contemplating the question. "Um."
"Um, what?"
"Surprised."
"And blushing?"
There was a long pause before he finally replied, "Hmm... I don't remember what it feels like to blush."
Arthit let out an involuntary sigh. Well, at least he didn't outright deny it. If he couldn't remember blushing, that meant there was a chance he was, and just didn't recognize it. It felt like he was flirting with a robot at this point. Give it some time—eventually, he'd get used to it.
"North, teach your friend how to blush a little, will you?" Arthit muttered before standing up and stretching. "Come on, Joe. Let's go. I need five points before we head out."
"Five? One is enough to leave," Johan countered.
"Don't underestimate me. Basketball might not be my main sport, but still."
Johan smirked. "Alright. Then how about a soccer match in the evening? Since you're playing the 'main sport' card."
"Fine. If I lose basketball, I'll admit I'm a dog,"
Arthit shot back. "And if you lose soccer tonight, you're the dog,"
Johan retorted. "Deal."
The friendly banter continued as they moved onto the court. Arthit wasn't one to brag, but he and Johan were both naturally athletic. Johan, being a basketball club member, had the edge here, while Arthit excelled in soccer, being the captain of the team. Losing a solo match would be humiliating.
He still hadn't gotten over that loss from a year ago—no matter how good he was, soccer was a team sport, and his faculty team had been average at best. The opposing team, on the other hand, had been ruthless, marking him like he was the only player on the field.
The exhaustion from that match still haunted him, along with the bitter taste of defeat and the alcohol he drowned his sorrows in afterward. They traded points back and forth, Johan landing a shot just as North called out the score. "Three-three."
Arthit frowned. "No way. I had three, Joe had two." He narrowed his eyes at North. "You're just siding with your boyfriend."
"This guy refuses to admit anything," Johan scoffed.
"I'm serious! Ask anyone, even a ghost." North turned to Daotok. "Right, Dao?"
"I wasn't paying attention," Daotok replied flatly.
Arthit sighed. "Whatever. Three-three is fine. First to five wins."
As the game continued, the score eventually reached four-four, leaving the next point to decide the winner.
"I win!" Johan shouted triumphantly as his final shot swooshed cleanly through the hoop.
Arthit groaned, wiping the sweat from his forehead with his shirt. While Johan put away the basketball, Arthit turned his attention to the bleachers, where their companions had been watching.
Daotok, exhausted beyond measure, had finally succumbed to sleep, his head resting against North's shoulder. Arthit crouched down, studying the peaceful expression on his face. "Asleep again."
"Does he always pass out when you make him exercise?" Johan asked, amused.
"Probably. It's too early for him."
"Well, he's not used to staying up late like us."
"Yeah," Arthit admitted.
Daotok worked himself to the bone, but he wasn't used to early morning physical activity. Waking up early and running around must've been too much for his body. Good thing he was leaning on North. If it were anyone else, the thought alone would irritate him.
"Joe," he called.
"What?"
"Help me get him onto my back."
Johan raised an eyebrow but didn't question it. Carefully, he lifted Daotok, making sure not to wake him as he settled onto Arthit's back. If he were awake, he'd definitely refuse to be carried.
Johan shook North awake next. North groggily climbed onto Johan's back without hesitation and promptly fell asleep again.
"Efficient," Arthit muttered.
"You'll get used to it soon enough," Johan replied.
"Thanks for the pep talk." As they made their way out of the gym, people stared at them, their gazes flickering with disbelief.
Understandable. After all, this wasn't something Arthit had ever done before. But for some reason, he didn't mind it at all. Warm breaths brushed against Arthit's neck, the soft rise and fall of Daotok against him a clear sign of deep, undisturbed sleep.
The quiet weight of Daotok felt oddly natural, as if it belonged there. Arthit barely noticed the way he instinctively adjusted, cradling him closer to ensure he wouldn't stir.
"You walking home? Want to ride with me?" Johan's voice cut through the moment, dragging Arthit back to reality.
"Yeah," Arthit replied without hesitation. "I want him to get to bed as soon as possible."
Johan gave him a look, exaggerated and dramatic as always. "Man, that's sweet but also kind of weird."
"Shut up," Arthit muttered, already regretting his honesty.
"You've never done anything like this before. Give me a minute—no, a lot of time—to adjust. Damn, it's like watching someone completely change. Even if it's just for one person, it's still a good thing."
Arthit scoffed, fishing into his pocket. "Another great speech. Here, take ten baht."
Johan smirked but waved it off. "Keep it. You'll need it."
"Idiot." They reached Johan's car, and Arthit carefully laid his passenger down in the backseat. Johan, meanwhile, helped North into the front.
Once everything was settled, Arthit realized there wasn't enough space in the back, leaving him with little choice but to let Daotok rest against him. Eventually, he guided Daotok's head onto his lap, adjusting slightly to make it comfortable.
Johan snickered. "Getting real comfortable, huh?"
"Blame your tiny car. Why didn't you get a bigger one?"
"Come on, all cars have this much space. Isn't this better, though?"
Arthit glanced down at the peaceful face resting against him, his fingers hesitantly brushing against soft strands of hair. A smile tugged at his lips before he could stop it. "Of course it is."
"Aw, so caring," Johan teased.
"Stop watching me. What are you, a creep?"
"I'm looking in the rearview mirror, man. Can't help it."
Arthit rolled his eyes. "What do you mean by 'caring,' anyway?"
"You know, it's what you're doing. Ruffling his hair like that. It's... affection, I guess? Like you want to protect him or something. Hard to explain."
"Oh, I get it now." Arthit nodded thoughtfully, staring at Daotok curled up against him. "So this is what caring feels like."
"Exactly," Johan confirmed as he pulled the car out of the parking lot.
Arthit arched his brow. "You're driving smoother than usual. It's no fun."
"Of course. Don't want my boyfriend waking up cranky."
"You're driving so smoothly now. What happened to your reckless driving? How are you this good?"
Johan snorted. "You'll understand once you have a partner."
Arthit glanced down again, watching as Daotok shifted, turning onto his side—only to nuzzle right into his stomach. His breath hitched. Oh, crap... Why is he burying his face into me like this?! Arthit stiffened, mentally cursing the situation.
His stomach wasn't exactly a pillow—it was all firm muscle, nothing soft about it. And yet, Daotok burrowed even further, as if seeking warmth. He tried to gently push his head away, but it was useless.
Daotok simply nestled back in, completely unaware of the chaos he was causing. Damn it! I can't even breathe properly anymore. Should I just cuddle him right here and now?! Calm down. He's asleep.
He doesn't know what he's doing. He's asleep. He doesn't know... Repeating the mantra in his head, Arthit forced himself to stay still until they finally arrived at the condo.
He carefully lifted Daotok's head off his lap and set it on the seat before quickly slipping out of the car. Circling to the other side, he opened the door and scooped him into his arms.
"See you later," he said, nodding at Johan.
"Yeah, later," Johan replied with an amused smirk before driving off.
Inside the building, Arthit carried Daotok with ease, feeling how light he was—too light. It irritated him. It didn't sit right. When the elevator doors slid shut, he hit the button for the seventh floor and shifted Daotok slightly, rummaging through his pocket for the keycard.
But as he stood there, staring at Daotok, a mischievous idea sparked. Instead of heading to his room, Arthit opened his own door and carefully laid Daotok on his bed. Fishing out the keycard, he smirked. Guess I'll keep this for now.
He stepped back out, using the keycard to open Daotok's room. Gathering the essentials—his uniform, laptop, drawing tablet—Arthit brought them back to his own space, setting everything up neatly on his desk. Satisfied, he recalled seeing a notice downstairs: the management office would be closed for three days. No spare keycards available.
He pulled out Daotok's phone and unlocked it using his fingerprint. Then, an idea struck him. Would he notice if I added mine? Probably not. He quickly registered his own fingerprint. Curiosity getting the better of him, he scrolled through the gallery.
No people. Just cats, landscapes, drawings, and animated characters. Even his social media and messages were strictly work-related. North wasn't lying—he really did block anyone who flirted with him. Lucky for me, I wasn't blocked. Some people just get the opportunity, right?
Setting the phone down, he noticed an alarm scheduled for noon. Probably for lunch after a morning class. Before leaving, he sat on the edge of the bed, gazing down at Daotok. His hand hovered for a moment before he leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead.
He lingered for a beat longer than necessary, then slowly pulled away, a small smile curving his lips. Yeah. Today was going to be a good day.
✨✨✨✨
Daotok's consciousness stirred slowly, drifting between sleep and wakefulness as unfamiliar scents filled his senses. The blanket wrapped around him carried a different fragrance—clean, crisp, but undeniably foreign.
His brows furrowed before his eyes fluttered open, greeted by the sight of a room he didn't recognize. A sudden rush of awareness jolted through him, and he sat up abruptly, clutching the blanket against his chest like a shield.
Where... am I? His gaze darted around the room, taking in the surroundings with growing unease. The furniture, the neatly arranged books, the polished desk—it was all unfamiliar, yet something about it felt oddly expected. His phone and student uniform were placed nearby, the sight of them grounding him in reality.
Instinctively, he reached for his phone first, his fingers brushing over the cool screen as he swung his legs over the edge of the bed. The floor was solid beneath his feet, a stark contrast to the uncertainty swirling in his mind. Cautiously, he rose and took slow, deliberate steps, surveying the room.
That was when he noticed his computer and other equipment arranged neatly on the desk, alongside stacks of books and scattered papers. Recognition clicked into place, and realization dawned on him. He was in the room next door.
A sigh left his lips—not of relief, nor of frustration, but something in between. It wasn't surprising. If Arthit had brought him here, it made sense. Arthit always did whatever he wanted, especially when it came to someone he liked. With a resigned breath, Daotok unlocked his phone, only to find several messages waiting for him on Line. His eyes flicked across the screen as he read them one by one.
[ARTHIT]: If you're reading this, you've probably realized you're in my room. Just so you know, I've confiscated your keycard.
[ARTHIT]: The office downstairs is closed for three days, so there's no spare for you. You probably understand why. Anyway, feel free to use the room.
[ARTHIT]: Your student uniform is on the shelf next to the bed. Your computer's on the desk. Car keys are hanging nearby, take your pick, but stick to 40 kph.
[ARTHIT]: There's food in the fridge. Microwave it if you want. If you think the room's messy, help clean it up.
[ARTHIT]: Oh, and there's a snake in the clear tank next to the wardrobe. Be careful. My spare keycard is on the desk. Take it just in case I get back late.
Daotok exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand over his cheek as he processed the information. Was he angry? No, not really. If anything, he felt... tired. It was always like this. Resistance was pointless, and arguing would only drain him further.
He had long learned to adapt quickly. At least he said he wouldn't do anything I disliked. If that was true, then there wasn't much to worry about. Staying here wouldn't be the worst thing in the world.
He could endure it. Still... why me? Why is it always me? His eyes skimmed over the part about the snake, and curiosity tugged at his mind. He turned toward the wardrobe, stepping closer until he could see the clear tank resting beside it.
Inside, a striking yellow ball python lay coiled, its smooth, intricate patterns gleaming under the dim light. The sight of it stilled him for a moment, admiration flickering in his chest. Kneeling, he observed the creature more closely.
It was beautiful— undoubtedly well-cared for, its scales gleaming with health. A snake like this had to be expensive. "So beautiful," he murmured under his breath, captivated. "How are you so pretty?" He lifted his phone, snapping a quick picture before sending a message.
[DAOTOK]: The snake is beautiful. Can I hold it?
[ARTHIT]: Sure, just be careful. It might not be used to your scent. But it doesn't bite.
[DAOTOK]: What's its name?
[ARTHIT]: Haven't named it. You can name it.
[DAOTOK]: Is it male or female?
[ARTHIT]: Female.
[DAOTOK]: Waralee.
[DAOTOK]: It means radiant, like the moon. Her color is a soft yellow.
[ARTHIT]: Sure, fine. Just don't let her bite you. I don't want to have to kill her.
[DAOTOK]: It's okay. This breed's bite doesn't hurt, right?
[ARTHIT]: It doesn't hurt you. It hurts me.
Daotok hesitated at that reply, fingers hovering over his phone. What did he mean by that? Shaking his head, he decided to let it go. Instead, his curiosity won over, and he carefully unlatched the glass enclosure, reaching inside with steady hands.
Waralee stirred slightly but remained calm as he gently lifted her onto his palms. She was smooth, cool to the touch, her body shifting with slow, deliberate movements as she adjusted to his warmth. He had never raised a snake before, nor handled one often, but he knew one thing—never let her fall.
A snake worth two to three hundred thousand, and yet he trusted me enough to hold her. He had made an offhand comment about not minding being bitten, but the response he received had been firm. It wasn't about Daotok being hurt—it was about how the other would feel.
Does that mean he... cares? The thought lingered in his mind, curling around his heart like an unfamiliar warmth. He had never really stopped to consider it before. But this—this quiet concern, this unspoken trust—it was different. Having someone care like this... It felt kind of nice.