Arthit narrowed his eyes at Daotok, lips quirking upward as he took in the flustered expression on his face. "You're trying to make me fall for sure."
"No, I'm not," Daotok denied, his tone deliberately neutral.
"See? You're flirting. You like me."
Daotok exhaled, rolling his eyes. "I already told you that."
A quiet groan of frustration escaped Arthit as he ruffled his own hair. His heart was racing, his thoughts in disarray, and he couldn't stop the smile tugging at the corners of his lips. The intensity of his emotions was suffocating. "Ugh, I swear I want to strip and pin you down right here," he muttered, voice barely above a whisper.
He immediately regretted his words when he realized where they were—standing within the serene walls of a temple. A place of peace and worship, yet here he was, letting his desires run wild. He inhaled deeply, willing himself to calm down, but Daotok's smirk wasn't helping one bit.
"We're in a temple," Daotok reminded him, amusement evident in his voice.
Arthit shot him a look. "So, does that mean it's okay in a room?"
"No, that's not what I meant!" Daotok blurted out, eyes widening as a blush crept up his cheeks.
God, how could anyone be this ridiculously adorable? Arthit swore he had never found anything in the world remotely cute before meeting Daotok.
Yet here he was, captivated, drowning in feelings he couldn't quite put into words.
"You're not even human," Arthit murmured.
"What?"
"You're ridiculously cute, that's what."
Daotok groaned, shaking his head. "You're overdoing it."
"Why, is that bad?"
"I don't know. I don't really feel anything," Daotok said, avoiding eye contact.
Arthit scoffed. "Don't call it overdoing it. You're genuinely cute. I've never thought anything in this world was cute until I met you."
Daotok hesitated before replying. "You're probably bored of it by now."
"No." Arthit stopped walking, forcing Daotok to do the same. His gaze was firm, unwavering. "I'm not bored. I already told you that."
Daotok held his stare for a long moment, then simply resumed walking, as if nothing had happened.
Arthit hurried to catch up, his grin widening. "I thought you'd be tired of it by now."
Daotok merely shrugged. "No, just say whatever you want."
Arthit's heart flipped at the nonchalant response. "Wow, that's a good sign."
He smirked, knowing full well that he was the type to wear his heart on his sleeve. Confessing his love every half hour had practically become second nature to him.
Before he could tease Daotok further, North's voice interrupted them.
"Ghost Rider, come look at this."
Arthit let out an exaggerated sigh. "North, you always interrupt."
"What? Were you two being sweet or something?"
Daotok arched a brow as they approached North and Johan, who were standing in front of a lottery stall. "Looking at numbers?"
"Yeah, come help me pick," North said, pointing at several options.
"I'm not good at this," Daotok replied. "Just pick the numbers you like, North."
"I'm stuck between these three," North admitted, looking to Johan for advice.
Johan, as expected, grinned. "Take all of them."
"Classic Mr. Moneybags," Arthit muttered.
Daotok shook his head. "Just pick one. Trust me, in my experience, greedy people rarely win."
North frowned. "But what if I skip the winning number?"
Johan laughed. "See? You can't just rely on one."
North crossed his arms. "Just leave me be. If you don't get it, then shut up."
Arthit smirked. "You're not getting one? I'll buy it for you. Who knows, we might win."
Daotok glanced at him. "And if you win?"
"I'll quit med school, obviously. Become a professional lottery player."
North snickered, giving him a thumbs-up. "Welcome aboard."
Johan chuckled. "Don't, Thit. You'd have better odds at a casino."
Arthit shrugged, recalling a particularly lucrative night at a casino with Johan. "True. Why didn't I just pursue that?"
"Yeah, why torture yourself like this?"
Arthit sighed. "Dammit, Joe. You've made me want to quit for the millionth time."
"If you quit, I'll quit. Deal?"
"No way. I've come this far." Arthit sighed, the weight of his responsibilities pressing down on him. "You need to finish school for Hill."
Johan blinked. "Why for Hill?"
"So Hill can be proud of you."
Johan scoffed. "I'd be more motivated if it were for North."
Arthit snorted. "Sounds like you're in the cult of the spouse."
"And you?"
"I'm in the cult of falling stars. Founder and sole member."
"Why no followers?"
"Because I'm possessive."
Johan gave him a knowing look. "What's your deal? Why are you so possessive of him?"
Arthit clenched his jaw. "I'm his older brother."
Johan burst out laughing. "What kind of nonsense is that?"
Arthit groaned, burying his face in his hands. "I don't want to be his brother. I want to be his boyfriend!"
"Desperate much?"
"I'm so close to forcing it! The other day, just because he said I was sweet, I took my shirt off. Now he thinks I'm the kind of person who's always ready to strip."
Johan smirked. "And are you?"
Arthit sighed dramatically. "Yes."
They both burst into laughter, the conversation dissolving into playful banter. As they stood there waiting for North to finally pick his numbers, Arthit stole a glance at Daotok.
"So, are you planning to talk about this with him forever?" Johan asked, his tone laced with amusement.
Arthit snorted. "Better question—who don't I talk about myself with?"
Johan didn't hesitate. "Hill's and Fah's boyfriends. Why?"
"Because I'm not suicidal, dumbass." Arthit rolled his eyes. "Those two treat their boyfriends like royalty. If I dared to throw around words like 'bastard' or 'moron' at them, I'd probably get disowned."
Johan smirked. "And yet, you don't exactly speak nicely to the person you actually like either."
"That's just not me." Arthit shrugged, arms crossing over his chest. "If I tried to be polite, I'd feel suffocated. He'd probably hate it too. When I talk to Hill's and Fah's boyfriends, everything's so stiff and awkward—I feel like tearing my shirt off. All that 'brother this' and 'brother that'... ugh. But there's not much to say between us anyway, so I just avoid it."
Johan hummed in acknowledgment before glancing at Daotok and North again.
"Didn't you start off calling North 'you' and 'I' too?"
"Yeah, but that was because I was kind of mad at him at the time." Johan gave a nonchalant shrug. "It was over... well, something. Don't remember."
Arthit did. Vaguely. He didn't press.
"But after a while, it felt natural," Johan continued. "Once we started dating, I adjusted. Wasn't a big deal for me—I'm not as rough as you."
"Well, whatever." Arthit grinned. "Shorty's fine with me as I am."
Johan scoffed. "It's rare to find someone okay with you. I'm still not."
"If you're not okay with it, we can fight," Arthit teased, cracking his knuckles for show.
Johan eyed him, unimpressed. "Who are you challenging?"
"One-on-one. No clothes involved."
Johan groaned. "Hopeless. Who else would take you if not him?"
Arthit only chuckled, and Johan sighed in defeat, turning back to the crowd.
"They're taking forever to pick numbers," Arthit commented, shifting on his feet.
"That's just how it is," Johan muttered. "Same as when China picks a lipstick. Everything's got to be perfect."
Arthit smirked. "Must be lonely when you drop North off by yourself."
Johan shook his head. "Not really. He feels guilty about making me wait, so he usually hurries. But today..." He glanced toward North and Daotok.
"Since you're here, he's probably taking his sweet time."
Arthit hummed in thought. "I have a question."
Johan sighed, already bracing for nonsense. "What?"
"If North has money, why does he still play the lottery?"
Johan didn't answer immediately, instead watching North inspect the tickets. "You wouldn't understand," he said finally. "It's like a life mission.
Winning completes something for him."
Arthit raised an eyebrow. "Huh. I kind of get it."
Johan nodded. "That's just how North is. He likes to handle things on his own. Even though we've talked about it, he doesn't rely on me much. I can't blame him; he's always been like that."
"Playing the lottery is handling things on your own?"
Johan chuckled. "It's part of his mission. But for bigger things—work, school—he almost never asks me for help. At most, he'll ask me to drive him somewhere."
"So, he doesn't ask you for money?"
Johan shook his head.
Arthit whistled lowly. "That's actually admirable. Instead of asking you for 30 million, he'd rather help you find 30 million. Something like that." He paused. "Isn't the jackpot 30 million?"
"Depends on how much you buy," Johan replied. "But yeah, that's about right. Either way, if it makes him happy, I'm fine with it. Watching him get excited every draw is fun. And even when he loses, he's not upset. He's used to it."
Arthit nodded. "Having Shorty around has made me see things differently too."
Johan gave him a skeptical look. "How so?"
"I mean... I never wanted to follow in Direk's footsteps or be a doctor anyway."
Johan frowned. "Then what do you want to be?"
Arthit smirked. "Not telling. It's a secret only Shorty knows."
Johan huffed. "Fine, I'll find out eventually."
"You will." Arthit glanced toward Daotok, a soft expression crossing his face. "He's the reason I want to chase my dream again. I gave up on it a long time ago."
Johan's expression turned doubtful. "Damn, it's hot."
Arthit scowled. "Can't you acknowledge my profound statement for once?"
"Why is it so damn hot today?"
Arthit grinned. "Because I'm so hot myself."
Johan turned to glare at him. "What the hell?"
Arthit laughed, unable to help himself. Johan sighed, clearly at his limit, and tried to ignore him. "You seem good at tolerating heat," Johan muttered.
Arthit shrugged smugly. "I can handle anything—except cold weather. And hearing him say he hates me, even as a joke." His smirk faded slightly. "It stung, that one time he did. Even if he didn't mean it."
Johan's eyes flickered with surprise. "Really? That's... unexpected."
"What's so surprising about it? I love him."
Johan's lips curled in amusement. "What's surprising is that he doesn't hate you."
"You asshole," Arthit said, laughing despite himself. His eyes trailed to Daotok, who was still deliberating with North. Eventually, he pointed at a ticket, and after paying, the two walked back toward them.
"All done?" Arthit asked.
Daotok nodded.
"What numbers did you get?" Johan asked.
North grinned, holding up the ticket for Johan to inspect.
"Alright, should we head back?" Johan asked.
"Do you have work later, P' Joe?" North asked.
"Yeah, why?"
"I was thinking of watching a movie with Ghost Rider. Can we go?"
Johan considered before turning to Arthit. "You can keep an eye on North, right?"
"Watch North? Nope."
North scoffed. "I don't need to rely on someone like you, P' Thit. I can take care of myself."
"He's hinting that he doesn't need you anymore," Arthit teased.
Johan groaned. "When someone's own love life isn't going well, he tries to ruin others' relationships."
North smirked. "Ouch. That hit a nerve."
Arthit scowled. Damn brat.
"So, are you watching at the theater?" Johan redirected.
North turned to Daotok. "What do you think?"
Daotok shook his head. "Up to you."
"You always say that. Fine. Let's just watch at home. I haven't used Netflix much this month—feels like a waste of money."
Johan shrugged. "Sure. You can hang out in my room, but—"
"But don't break anything or touch things randomly," Arthit finished for him.
North rolled his eyes.
"Alright, our place it is."
"Why not a horror movie?" Daotok suggested. "Our place has the perfect atmosphere."
North hesitated. "That'd be too real. With all the sights, sounds, and even the smells, it'd be like 4D."
Arthit smirked. "What, North? Scared?"
North narrowed his eyes. "You think that works on me every time?"
"Guess that means you're scared."
"I'm not! Fine, let's do it."
Arthit turned to Johan with a grin. "Your boyfriend is so easy to tease."
Johan just smiled slightly as they followed the others back to the car.
"At first, I didn't think you'd let North visit your place. Why so agreeable this time?"
Johan sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Well, he's not going now, is he?"
"I mean earlier, when you said yes."
Johan hesitated for a moment before answering, his voice tinged with a quiet worry. "Lately, I haven't spent much time with North. I know he understands, but I want to be around more. Even on my days off, I get caught up in meetings."
Arthit smirked. "Skip them."
"That would be reckless," Johan replied with a frown. "I just want North to have time with friends too."
"And what does he do when he's not with friends?"
"Stays in. Plays games, watches movies or cartoons. I worry he might get bored."
Arthit let out a chuckle. "Bored of games?"
Johan exhaled heavily. "Bored of me, maybe. Why are you steering the conversation this way?"
"Relax, I'm just talking," Arthit said with an easy grin. "Still, if you're this concerned, it shows you care. North doesn't seem like the type to mind. You're overthinking things."
Johan ran a hand through his hair, the tension in his posture easing slightly.
"It's just been a stressful time lately. I've been focusing more on school.
Alright, I feel better now. Thanks for listening."
Arthit rolled his eyes. "Wait, when did I agree to listen? Was this venting?"
Johan smirked. "Yes, and that's that."
"Well, glad you feel better," Arthit said, stepping toward the car. He slid into his usual seat and, without hesitation, laid his head on Daotok's lap like it was the most natural thing in the world. Daotok frowned in mild annoyance, trying to push him off, but when Arthit remained stubbornly in place, he eventually gave up with a quiet huff. The soft lap remained his pillow until they reached his condo.
"What time's the football match this evening?" Johan asked as they sat in the car.
"Five or six. When do you finish work? Want me to drop North off?"
"I'll call you around five."
"Alright."
After a brief goodbye, North joined them, and they headed to the seventh floor. As they walked down the corridor, a sudden noise came from one of the rooms they passed. North jumped, his grip tightening around Daotok's arm. Arthit frowned at the sight and promptly grabbed North by the collar, tugging him away.
"Hey! I was just startled," North protested, glaring at him.
"It's just a noise from inside. Someone probably moved in."
North's expression shifted. "Really? Someone new moved in?"
"Probably. If not, this condo's doomed. It's been empty long enough; someone should've taken it by now," Arthit muttered. The owner had given Daotok a discount to move in, hoping to prove the place wasn't haunted.
Apparently, that hadn't been enough to erase the building's eerie reputation.
"Still, I don't trust it," North said, glancing warily at the door. "P' Arthit, why don't you scan it for ghosts or something?"
"No need."
"Lame."
They reached their unit, and North hesitated outside. "Do we really have to watch the movie in his room?"
Arthit smirked. "If you don't want us there, you can go in alone."
"That'd be worse! Come on, open the door already."
Daotok turned to Arthit, hand outstretched. "Keycard, please."
Arthit hesitated for a fraction of a second. If Daotok's voice had even the slightest hint of pleading, he was sure he'd be willing to hand over the entire universe. "I'll open it," he said, trying to keep his cool. He pulled out his wallet, rifling through it—only to come up empty-handed. "Bad news. I think I lost your keycard."
Daotok's face instantly twisted in exasperation. North groaned. "You should wear it around your neck. You're the type who always loses keycards. If I were the condo manager, I'd punch you in the eye."
Arthit shrugged, unconcerned, and stepped inside with the others trailing behind. "You guys pick the movie. I'm going to the bathroom."
When he returned, North and Daotok were sitting on the floor, leaning against the sofa, flipping through options on the laptop. Without warning, Arthit plopped down and pulled Daotok onto his lap, wrapping his arms around his waist.
North raised an eyebrow, an amused smirk on his face. "So...what's with needing to sit on your lap? I guess chairs are obsolete now."
Daotok squirmed slightly, looking annoyed. "Let me go."
Arthit tilted his head innocently. "Oh, you want to sit on the floor? Sure."
Before Daotok could move, Arthit shifted down with him, still holding him firmly in place. "There. Now we're both on the floor. Satisfied?"
"Not like this," Daotok grumbled.
Arthit smirked. "So, have you picked a movie yet?" He rested his head on Daotok's shoulder, glancing at the laptop.
"Yeah, we picked one," North said, rolling his eyes. "And now I'm stuck being a witness to your love again."
"Good. That's what happens when you're on Team Me."
"I'm on Team Kim."
Arthit frowned. "Kim who?"
North's smirk widened. "Oh, you don't know? Shorty, explain."
Daotok sighed. "Just a client."
Arthit's eyes narrowed. "Doesn't sound good when you say it like that."
North snickered. "That's because your brain is always full of crap. Earlier, when we were praying, someone texted Ghost Rider. The name was Kim… what was it again?"
"Kim Taemin," Daotok chimed in from the side.
"Yeah, that's it. He's a client who wants to set up a meeting. But I've got a hunch—he's definitely interested in him."
Arthit frowned. "North, stop stirring things up. It's just a meeting, isn't it? Is he Korean?"
"Chinese, probably. But with a name like Kim, who knows?"
Arthit considered that before dismissing it with a shrug. "Have you worked with him before?"
"Once, about a year ago. He wrote a novel and hired me to illustrate it."
"And how is he hitting on him, North? Stop making stuff up."
"Trust me, my intuition is never wrong. I can see three months into the future."
Arthit scoffed. "Really? Then why don't you predict the next lottery numbers?"
North huffed, clearly annoyed. "See? That's not the same! But I'm telling you, Kim likes him. I saw it."
"Saw what?"
North crossed his arms, a flicker of frustration dancing in his eyes as he exhaled sharply. "Just saw it, okay?" His voice carried a defensive edge, as though he were running out of arguments but refusing to back down. "But you need to be careful. I can feel it. Don't believe me? Let me prove it."
Before Arthit could protest, North reached out and lightly touched his arm, a fleeting brush of fingers against skin, then quickly withdrew. He nodded to himself as if confirming something.
"There. I can feel it."
Arthit scoffed, shaking his head at the ridiculous display. "What nonsensebare you up to now?"
"Trust me. Be cautious."
"North, you're imagining things."
North let out an exasperated sigh. "There you go again, saying I'm imagining things. That's what Ter said too, until Hill started getting suspicious and stepped in himself. Meanwhile, Ter was just sitting there, eating hotpot, completely oblivious." He leaned forward, expression growing serious. "And let's not forget the idiot who kept harassing Typhoon until I almost decked him. I had to step in to defend my friend."
Arthit smirked, arms folding across his chest. "So you're just a punching bag for your friends, huh?"
"Call it protecting them, and yeah, I'll protect this Ghost Rider here, too. Just leave him in my care and pay me monthly."
"Helping your husband earn a living now?" Arthit teased, laughing at the ridiculousness of it. "Don't worry about me. I can handle myself. But seriously, should we deal with this Kim guy now? Where is he?"
"He's just meeting for work," Daotok interjected tiredly, clearly unimpressed. "You're blowing this out of proportion."
"Better safe than sorry, right?" North grinned, leaning back with an air of self-satisfaction.
Arthit rolled his eyes. "Yeah, let's just burn him alive. If he's interested in you, that could be a problem."
"Enough," Daotok sighed, pressing a button on the remote. "Let's just watch the movie."
As the horror film flickered onto the screen, the room fell into a hushed anticipation. Arthit and Daotok watched with relaxed composure, but North—wrapped in a blanket and clutching his knees—was visibly trembling.
Every shadow, every eerie whisper from the speakers sent him further into his cocoon of fabric.
Arthit smirked. "Don't wet yourself. If you need to pee, go to the bathroom."
"It's fine," North mumbled, eyes still glued to the screen. "I'll just go here."
"The hell you will."
"We're all friends here."
"This is way too casual. Have some decency."
North suddenly reached out, shaking Daotok's arm outside of the blanket.
"Ghost Rider, take me to the bathroom."
"No."
"Please, please, please," North pleaded, his voice climbing an octave.
Daotok sighed heavily. "How old are you?"
"Twenty-one."
"Fine," Daotok relented, gently pushing Arthit away as he stood.
Arthit frowned at the loss of warmth. "I don't want to let go."
Daotok turned to him with patient amusement. "I usually don't mind letting things slide, but this time, I'm asking. Please let me go."
Arthit sighed in exaggerated defeat. "Alright, alright. I'll pity you this time."
As Daotok led North out of the room, Arthit remained still, the lingering warmth of his presence still clinging to his skin. When they returned a few minutes later, Daotok hesitated before sitting back down. Arthit immediately patted his lap, an unspoken invitation.
"Come back and sit on my lap."
"No."
"Come on."
"Are you forcing me?"
"Yes."
"No."
Arthit smirked. "Stubborn, huh?"
Daotok huffed. "Don't call me stubborn. The real stubborn one is you."
"If you sit anywhere else, I'll just pick you up and put you back on my lap. What'll it be? The movie's getting good. Hurry up."
Daotok exhaled in defeat before finally settling back onto Arthit's lap. Arthit tightened his hold around him once more, ignoring the way Daotok shot him an exasperated look.
"What are you looking at, North?"
"Relax, relax. Pretend I'm not even here," North replied.
"I don't even see you anyway."
"Fine, whatever. Damn, this scene is so dark," North muttered as the movie played on.
By the time the credits rolled, North was a complete mess, his hair disheveled from all the hiding and flinching. Meanwhile, Daotok remained as composed as ever, unfazed even during the worst jump scares that had North yelping in terror.
Their laughter and banter continued until North's phone buzzed. Johan was calling, letting him know he was on his way to pick him up. Arthit glanced at the clock—it was earlier than expected. Johan must have rushed through his work to get here.
North stood by the door, flashing a grin. "See you, P'. Bye, Ghost Rider."
"Mm."
"Alright."
North hesitated, then added, "Keep an eye on Kim, okay? Trust me."
"Yeah, yeah, got it. I'll deal with him tomorrow."
"Good plan. Fix the root cause. Telling him to back off won't work—you'll be too late by then."
"Alright, enough," Daotok interjected, effectively ending the conversation.
North laughed and dashed off, his footsteps echoing down the hall.
Arthit turned to Daotok, amusement still glimmering in his eyes. "So, what about you and Kim?"
"You believe North?"
Arthit shrugged. "Half and half. Whatever. He won't succeed in flirting with you anyway."
"Mm. Neither will you."
Arthit narrowed his eyes. "What?"
"Just kidding."
"Hey, what do you mean by that? Have I won you over yet or not?"
"Not yet."
"What? Make up your mind," Arthit grumbled, watching as Daotok moved to his desk, picking up his art supplies to continue painting. Arthit leaned back in his seat, watching him with an amused grin.
"So, what's my score now?"
"Don't know."
"How can you not know? You're the one keeping track."
Daotok paused, thinking. "Mm... it's hard to explain. But it's not low anymore."
Arthit grinned triumphantly. "See? That gives me hope." He leaned in, stealing a quick kiss on Daotok's cheek. Daotok turned to him with mild annoyance.
"Deducting points."
"Why?"
"For harassment without permission."
Arthit smirked. "Fine. Can I kiss you?" Without waiting for an answer, he kissed Daotok's cheek again. "There, I asked for permission."
Daotok sighed deeply.
"If you keep sighing, you'll shorten your lifespan."
"Then I probably won't live long at this rate."
Arthit crossed his arms, narrowing his eyes as he glared at the boy beside him. "That's not okay! If you die, who'll stay with me?" His voice carried a dramatic edge, half-serious, half-teasing.
Daotok, unbothered as always, merely hummed. "Don't know."
Arthit huffed. "Well, if you die, I'll use your body for experiments and find a way to bring you back to life so you can stay with me."
"Wow," Daotok muttered, barely sparing him a glance. "So I can't escape even in death?"
"Exactly." Arthit smirked, crossing his legs as he watched Daotok's hand glide over the paper.
"Might not be so bad. I'd like to see you resurrect me. I'll leave it to you."
"Don't worry. You can count on me."
Daotok didn't respond, his attention locked on the drawing in front of him—a detailed portrait of Arthit's mother. He worked with practiced ease, the soft strokes of his brush blending shades seamlessly. Arthit, having nothing better to do, simply sat beside him, watching.
After a few minutes, he broke the silence. "Hey, I'm going to play football with my friends later. Want to come?"
Daotok barely acknowledged him. "Are you inviting me to play football?"
"Uh-huh."
"No."
"Why not? It's fun!"
"I don't like football."
Arthit sighed, already expecting that answer. "Okay, then come sit and watch me."
"No."
"Why not?"
"I don't want to."
"Why don't you like it?"
Daotok's hand hesitated briefly before he answered. "I once went to watch, and a football hit me in the face."
Arthit blinked. "Damn... Were you okay?"
"Got a nosebleed. Good thing I didn't have a nose job, or the silicone would've stabbed my eyes."
Arthit burst out laughing, loud and unrestrained. "Come on, I'll make sure no balls come near you."
"Really?"
"Really."
"Still no. Mosquitoes will bite me."
"Use mosquito repellent."
"It's hot."
"It's cool over there. The breeze is nice, the atmosphere is great, and there are lights. You can paint comfortably."
Daotok finally turned his head, arching a brow. "Why do you want me to go so badly?"
Arthit shrugged, leaning closer. "I just want you to come keep an eye on me. Don't you care about me? When I play football, people always ask for my number."
"Good for you. Congratulations."
"Hey, no! You're supposed to say, 'Oh, someone's hitting on you? I'd better come keep an eye on you.' Something like that!"
"No thanks."
"Come on, be a little possessive."
Daotok sighed.
"You're so stubborn."
"No, I'm just not that type of person."
Arthit pouted. "Fine." He knew Daotok meant it—he wasn't the jealous type. Unlike Arthit, who teased and played with words, Daotok was direct.
When his heart raced, he admitted it without hesitation. And yet, Arthit couldn't help pushing a little more. "Alright, just come with me."
Daotok hesitated.
"Come on," Arthit coaxed, nudging his arm. "I want you to be there."
"You want me to come because you're worried someone else will like you?"
"Exactly."
"I'd rather not."
"Why not?"
"I'm not the jealous type."
Arthit let out an exaggerated sigh. "Wow, really? But you should be jealous! I'm super cool when I play football."
Daotok remained expressionless, completely unmoved. That made Arthit smile. He reached over and gave his head a playful shove, exasperated.
"Alright, you're coming. I'll pack up your stuff for you, so get up."
Before Daotok could protest, Arthit was already gathering his art supplies and stuffing them into his bag. Daotok looked confused for a moment but ultimately sighed, letting him continue. Once everything was packed, Arthit slung both their bags over his shoulder and pulled Daotok along to the football field.
Honestly, he just wanted him there. Even if Daotok didn't watch or cheer him on, having him nearby made Arthit feel at ease.
As they drove to the field, Arthit chuckled. "My friends are definitely going to tease me."
Daotok glanced out the window. "Did you do it on purpose?"
"No," Arthit answered truthfully. "I just don't want anyone else looking at you."
"No one's looking at me."
"Your hair is bright blue, for starters. And you're super cute."
"No."
"What do you mean, no?"
"Not cute."
Arthit smirked. "Wow, so humble. If you're not cute, then what are you?"
"I don't know. Just... normal, I guess."
"Normal, huh? Fine. So when you go out, do people stare at you?"
"I think they do, but I don't notice."
"Really?"
"Yeah. Believe me."
Arthit hummed. "Aren't you going to ask why, if I'm not jealous, I still came with you?"
"No, I'm not asking."
"Come on, ask."
Daotok sighed. "Hmm. Ask."
Arthit grinned. "They can only look at you, that's all. Besides, bringing you here to show off isn't a bad idea, is it? Like, 'Hey, look, my future partner is so damn cute.'"
Daotok only let out a small sigh, his fingers tightening around the bag in his lap as he turned to watch the passing scenery.
When they arrived at the small football field, Arthit immediately took Daotok's hand, leading him inside. As expected, all eyes turned to them.
"Hey! Doctor!" Tim was the first to approach, grinning. "Thought you weren't coming."
"I said I'd come, so here I am."
Tim's gaze flickered to Daotok. "And who's this? Your boyfriend?"
Arthit smirked. "Not yet. I'm still working on it."
Tim whistled. "Whoa, impressive. What's his name?"
"Daotok." Arthit wrapped an arm around Daotok's shoulder, feeling him tense slightly before nodding politely.
"Nice to meet you, Daotok. I'm Tim. Wow, my buddy's about to get a boyfriend. Take care of him, alright?"
As Tim shouted for a new game to begin, Arthit turned to Daotok, setting down their bags. "Alright, you're staying here."
Daotok merely nodded, watching as Arthit jogged onto the field. Even if he wouldn't admit it, Arthit could feel his eyes on him—and that was more than enough.
The air buzzed with excitement as Arthit stepped onto the field, the shouts of his friends filling the space around him.
"Hey, Thit's on my team next round!"
"No way! Thit has to be on my team!"
Arthit smirked at the competitive chaos and raised his voice over the arguing crowd. "I'll play solo! You all just try to stop me."
A chorus of laughter erupted, followed by playful taunts.
"Wow, someone's confident. Bringing a boyfriend along and getting all cocky, huh?"
Arthit only chuckled, shooting back, "Anyone who looks at my boyfriend is getting his eyes poked out."
The field burst into more teasing and laughter. With a smile still on his lips, he turned to Daotok, his companion for the day. He led him to a shaded seat by the sidelines, setting down the two bags he was carrying. Pulling out the smaller one, he placed it in front of Daotok, his voice softer now. "Here. Your art supplies."
Daotok nodded in thanks, his hands already reaching for his materials.
Arthit crouched beside him, brushing his fingers lightly against Daotok's cheek. "Is this spot okay for you?"
"Yeah."
"I'll make sure the ball doesn't come your way, and I won't let anyone bother you, okay?"
Another nod.
Arthit gave a reassuring smile before adding, "It'll get chaotic, so if the bugs start annoying you, there's mosquito spray in the small pocket."
"Okay."
For a moment, Arthit watched as Daotok methodically prepared his workspace, arranging items with careful precision. When he pulled out a large board and pressed a sheet of paper onto it, he turned to Arthit expectantly. "Hold this for me."
"Alright." Arthit steadied the corners as instructed, watching as Daotok secured the sheet.
"Okay, I'm going now," he said at last, standing up and stretching his limbs.
"Alright."
With that, he changed into his cleats and jogged over to the side of the field, warming up as he awaited his turn. When the next round was called, teams were drawn at random, and soon, the game was in full swing.
It felt exhilarating to be back on the field, the rush of competition igniting something in his chest. The rhythm came back to him quickly—the weight of his steps, the momentum of the ball, the strategies unfolding in real-time.
He played hard, focusing on every movement. The satisfaction of scoring sent cheers through the air, but the moment he looked toward the sidelines, the noise around him faded.
His gaze found Daotok.
A small smile tugged at the corners of Daotok's lips, and despite the heat of the game, something even warmer bloomed inside Arthit's chest.
"Scoring goals and flashing sweet smiles at each other, huh? You two are adorable," one of his teammates teased.
Arthit rolled his eyes, raising an eyebrow. "He's not my boyfriend yet, but I'm working on it."
Laughter rippled through the group. "At this point, he might as well be. He even came to watch you play."
"I brought him along, okay? And I'm still in the middle of flirting with him. No one else better look at him."
"Honestly, just by bringing him here, no one's going to dare. Good luck getting him to say yes soon, buddy."
"Thanks for the good vibes."
After another successful game, Arthit took a break and walked over to sit beside Daotok.
"Did you watch?" he asked, reaching for his water bottle.
"Yeah."
"Was it fun?"
"You're good at it."
Arthit stilled mid-sip before grinning. "Wow. You're complimenting me again? I'm so happy."
Daotok glanced away. "People are staring."
Arthit followed his gaze and spotted a group of girls on the other side of the fence, their eyes lingering in his direction. He turned back, unimpressed.
"Jealous?"
"No."
"Really?" Arthit smirked. "So, how's the coloring coming along? Let me see."
"No."
Arthit blinked. "Come on, why so protective this time? You usually let me see."
"This one's different."
Arthit raised an eyebrow but let it go. "Fine, I won't look. Are you uncomfortable sitting here?"
"No."
"Are you hungry yet?"
"Not yet."
"Alright, I'll play a bit longer, then."
Returning to the field, he found himself glancing back every so often. Daotok remained engrossed in his work, and though Arthit tried to focus on the game, the sight of him was an undeniable source of comfort.
The games continued, and by the end of the day, Arthit's team had won five rounds in a row. As he changed out of his cleats, his friends invited him out for drinks, but he declined without hesitation. The decision stunned them— Arthit, turning down alcohol?
But he had other priorities today.
Sweaty as he was, he resisted the urge to throw an arm around Daotok and instead took his hand, leading him toward the car. "My friends said you're cute," he admitted, recalling their earlier conversation. "At first, I didn't think much of it, but as time passed, I started feeling really protective of you."
Daotok remained silent.
"Am I allowed to feel protective too?"
"Isn't it a bit late to be asking that?"
Arthit grinned. "Even if I'm not allowed, I still want to be."
Daotok simply hummed in response before reaching into his bag. Without a word, he pulled out a rolled-up sheet of paper and unfurled it in front of Arthit.
It was a drawing of him—on the field, surrounded by the glow of stadium lights, sweat glistening on his skin, yet his expression was one of pure joy.
Arthit stared. "Why'd you draw me? I thought you were coloring."
No response.
"Why aren't you answering?"
Daotok hesitated before speaking. "It's beautiful."
"Huh?"
"Your smile. It's beautiful, and I wanted to capture it."
Arthit's breath hitched.
Damn.
Before he could stop himself, Arthit reached forward, cupping Daotok's cheek with firm yet gentle fingers, tilting his face up. His thumb traced over the softness of his skin, lingering at the corner of his lips, as if testing the waters before diving in. Daotok's eyes widened for a split second before fluttering shut, his breath shallow.
Then, Arthit leaned in, capturing his lips in a slow, deliberate kiss. Their mouths brushed, tentative at first—warm, electrifying, setting a fire low in his stomach. Daotok stiffened, fingers twitching against Arthit's chest in a half-hearted resistance, but he didn't pull away. Instead, his lips trembled under Arthit's, and that was all the permission Arthit needed.
With a low hum of satisfaction, he pressed in deeper, angling his head to claim more of him, his tongue flicking against Daotok's lower lip—teasing, coaxing, seeking entrance. A soft gasp escaped Daotok, and Arthit took the opportunity to slip inside, groaning at the intoxicating sweetness of him. He tasted faintly of mint, warm and inviting, like something he wanted to devour endlessly.
Daotok's body trembled beneath his touch, his breaths coming in shaky little pants as their tongues tangled in a slow, sensual dance. Arthit could feel the hesitance in him, the way his small hands trembled where they rested against his chest, but instead of pushing away, Daotok gripped his shirt, holding on. A desperate little whimper escaped from him, a sound so intoxicating that Arthit felt his control slipping.
His hand moved, sliding from Daotok's cheek down to his nape, fingers threading into the soft strands of his hair, anchoring him in place. He deepened the kiss, tasting, consuming—greedy for more, yet careful not to push too far. His free hand ghosted over Daotok's waist, feeling the slight tremor in his body, the way he shuddered with every stroke of his tongue.
When Daotok's palms suddenly pressed flat against his chest, his small fists weakly pounding as if trying to break free, Arthit reluctantly pulled back, though his lips hovered close enough to feel the heat of Daotok's ragged breath against his skin.
Daotok's face was utterly wrecked—flushed a deep, sinful red, his lips swollen and glistening from their kiss. His chest rose and fell rapidly, and his dazed eyes refused to meet Arthit's, instead darting somewhere past his shoulder as if embarrassed.
A slow smirk curled at Arthit's lips.
"Look at you," he murmured, voice low and teasing, fingers still lingering against Daotok's heated skin. "Flushed all the way to your ears... adorable."
Daotok's lips parted, but no words came out. His hands clenched into weak fists against Arthit's chest, his body betraying him even as he refused to meet his gaze.
Arthit leaned in again, brushing his lips just barely over Daotok's, teasing him with the promise of another kiss.
"Sorry," he whispered, though his voice dripped with anything but remorse.
His fingers trailed lazily along Daotok's jaw before he pulled away fully, licking his lips. "I meant to do that."
Daotok lowered his gaze, saying nothing.
Arthit chuckled, brushing his thumb over the soft skin of his cheek. "I kissed you on purpose because you're just too damn cute."