Arthit's gaze lingered on Daotok's lips, his dark eyes filled with an unreadable emotion. The gentle smile that followed was sincere, tinged with something sweet, something almost tender. His large hand, warm and steady, brushed against Daotok's, fingers grazing lightly as though to comfort him. The other hand, which had rested against Daotok's cheek only moments ago, finally pulled away. But before Daotok could process the sudden loss of warmth, Arthit leaned in again, his lips ghosting over his skin, leaving a feather-light kiss on his cheek.
Daotok sat frozen, overwhelmed by the weight of everything that had just transpired. His first kiss. The realization sent a shock through his entire body. His heart pounded, a frantic rhythm against his ribs, while a tingling warmth spread through his chest, leaving him utterly weak.
The sensation lingered, and he found himself pressing his lips together, as if trying to preserve the unexpected moment. It had been soft, tender—too sweet. Almost intoxicating. And yet, as strange as it all felt…He didn't regret it. Because it was him.
"Are you angry?" Arthit's voice was low, careful, his eyes searching for any sign of resentment.
"No."
A smirk played at Arthit's lips as he leaned in once more, his sharp features inching closer. Panic surged through Daotok, and he instinctively pressed his back against the car door, trying to put as much distance between them as possible. His breath quickened, his heartbeat hammering against his chest like a war drum. A rush of heat spread across his face, betraying him completely. His hands trembled slightly, his body reacting in ways he couldn't control.
"I've never seen you so flustered before." Arthit's voice held undeniable amusement as he licked his lips, his satisfied smirk deepening. The sight sent a fresh wave of panic through Daotok.
"D-Don't do that again," Daotok stammered, his voice unsteady, betraying his usual composure. He quickly looked away, trying to reclaim even a shred of dignity. He attempted to pull his hand back from Arthit's grasp, and to his relief, the other man let go without resistance.
"That'll be hard. No promises."
Daotok's lips parted in protest. "Minus points."
Arthit chuckled, utterly unfazed. "I'll take the penalty."
"That's not good."
"Me? Oh, I know I'm not good," Arthit said, his tone nonchalant, clearly enjoying every bit of Daotok's reaction. A small pout formed on Daotok's lips before he could stop himself, causing
Arthit's smirk widens. "You're pouting? Wow, I've never seen a robot pout before. This is the first."
Daotok scowled, looking away. He wasn't going to dignify that with a response.
"If you're that upset, I'll do better," Arthit said, his voice suddenly softer.
"No."
"Then how do I make it up to you?"
"I'm not upset."
"Really?"
"But I'm not pleased."
"Why? Was my kiss that bad?" Arthit asked, tilting his head slightly as he studied Daotok's expression. Silence stretched between them as Daotok struggled to find the right words.
"Can I try again to make it right?"
Daotok shook his head.
Arthit arched his brow. "What does that mean? No?"
"No, it's just... it wasn't bad."
Arthit's smirk returned. "Oh. Then let me take responsibility. Be my boyfriend."
"No."
"Why not? We kissed already. No Pee-Nong kiss like that."
Daotok exhaled a deep sigh. Arthit had a point—no siblings kissed like that. But the real issue was that he hadn't agreed to it in the first place.
"No."
Arthit shrugged slightly before turning to start the car. "Maybe I'm too selfish about some things, but I want you to know—no matter what, I only want to do these things with you."
They stopped for dinner before heading back, and Arthit remained as talkative as ever, asking questions, teasing, filling the silence. Daotok answered occasionally, but his mind remained tangled in the events of the night. The kiss replayed over and over, leaving him unable to understand his own emotions. Perhaps it was because it had been his first.
Back at his place, Arthit carried his things, set up his drawing equipment, and left everything ready for him, just as he always did. Daotok tried to steady his emotions, but it was impossible. He found himself glancing at the man who had caused all of this turmoil, only to find Arthit staring back, confused.
"What? Why are you looking at me like that?"
"I'm not happy."
"About the kiss?"
"About how you've made me so unsettled," Daotok admitted, his frustration and embarrassment mixing into a flustered mess.
Arthit burst into laughter before pulling him into a sudden, tight hug. "You're ridiculously adorable," he murmured, his breath warm against Daotok's neck before gently nibbling on his shoulder. Daotok shoved him away with all his strength, and to his relief, Arthit relented, backing off slightly.
"What kind of crazy person finds someone more huggable when they're mad?" Daotok muttered, scowling. "Get out."
"I'm not leaving."
"Why do you do this? You're not even my boyfriend."
Arthit grinned. "I've been asking you to be my boyfriend practically every hour. You're the one who asked for time." Daotok exhaled sharply, crossing his arms. "Apologize again, and I'll stop being upset."
"I already apologized."
"Apologize for making me lose my composure too."
Arthit sighed dramatically before relenting. "I'm sorry."
Satisfied, Daotok gave a small nod, his frustration slowly dissipating. He wasn't someone who held onto anger for long—just a simple apology was enough.
He reached for a sketch on his desk and held it out. "Are you keeping it? The drawing?"
Arthit's eyes lit up, and he nodded eagerly. The sketch depicted him on the football field, caught mid-game, utterly in his element. The moment had been captivating—the way he moved, the way his presence commanded the field. Daotok had seen it all, had captured it without even realizing how drawn he was to it.
There were countless moments when Daotok found himself utterly captivated by Arthit. The way he moved across the football field—graceful yet powerful—was almost hypnotic. Each stride, each sharp pivot, each precise kick sent a strange thrill through him. Arthit played with unrestrained passion, his face alight with determination, and even the smallest gestures, like the casual way he wiped sweat from his brow or the effortless lift of his shirt to cool himself, held an unintentional allure that Daotok couldn't ignore.
As if acting on instinct, Daotok often reached for his phone, capturing fleeting images of Arthit in the golden glow of the floodlights. Later, he would sketch those moments, bringing them to life on paper—his private tribute to the boy who unknowingly stole his attention time and time again.
Standing under the dazzling lights, Arthit was the undeniable center of attention. His presence on the field ignited excitement, drawing smiles and laughter from teammates and spectators alike. He had an effortless way of bringing people together; no matter how the teams were shuffled, everyone wanted to be on his side. It was as if he carried a magnetic energy that lifted the spirits of everyone around him.
"Do you want to shower first?" Arthit's voice cut through Daotok's thoughts, bringing him back to the present.
Daotok nodded, accepting the clean set of clothes Arthit handed him. He wasn't surprised that he would have to wear Arthit's clothes to bed again—it was only for one more night. By tomorrow, he could return to his own room once the condo management was available to replace his lost keycard.
The hot water soothed his muscles as he quickly washed away the remnants of the evening. Once he finished, he dried off, changed into the borrowed clothes, and checked his reflection in the mirror before stepping out. Arthit had already disappeared into the bathroom, leaving Daotok alone with his thoughts.
It was still early—just past 9 P.M. He absentmindedly checked his phone and saw a string of messages from Kim.
[KIM]: Can we schedule it now?
[KIM]: Tomorrow is Sunday. Are you free?
[DAOTOK]: Your project will start next week. I have other work commitments at the moment.
[KIM]: Such a pity. Then I'll wait.
[DAOTOK]: Alright.
Daotok sighed, placing his phone face-down on the desk. He had worked with Kim once, over a year ago, when the man had reached out after discovering his artwork on Instagram. Unlike most clients who preferred digital correspondence, Kim insisted on in-person meetings.
Their last encounter had been in Chiang Mai, where Kim had flown in specifically to discuss the details of his project. He had brought a book—written entirely in Korean—which Daotok couldn't read, forcing them to rely on explanations and rough translations.
North had once teased that Kim might have been flirting with him, though Daotok dismissed the idea. Every interaction between them had remained strictly professional. Still, Kim had a tendency to be persistent, often reaching out through Line after sending emails, as if hoping to coax more conversation beyond their business dealings.
Lost in thought, Daotok distracted himself by playing with Khun Jeon, his beloved plush companion, until the sound of the bathroom door opening drew his attention. Arthit emerged, towel in hand, running it through his damp hair as he made his way over. He dropped down beside Daotok, his presence instantly filling the space between them.
Daotok instinctively cradled Khun Jeon closer to his chest, wary of what Arthit might do.
"What?" Arthit asked, amused. "Are you scared I'll bite its head again?"
"Obviously," Daotok retorted, tightening his grip on the plush.
Arthit chuckled, reaching out. "Let me hold him."
After a brief moment of hesitation, Daotok relented, carefully handing over Khun Jeon. But no sooner had he done so than Arthit smirked mischievously, tilting the plush towards his mouth as if he intended to bite it again.
"Hey! Don't you dare!" Daotok lunged forward, only for Arthit to lift Khun Jeon high out of reach, his laughter echoing through the room.
"I'm just teasing."
"You're infuriating," Daotok muttered, crossing his arms. "One day, you'll get payback."
"Oh?" Arthit arched a brow, his smirk deepening. "What will you do? Bite my snake's head? Go ahead."
Daotok rolled his eyes, but his gaze flickered toward the terrarium where Arthit's pet snake resided. "Speaking of your snake, you haven't checked on it since you lost the keycard. Is it okay?"
"It's fine," Arthit replied lazily, still swinging Khun Jeon in his hands. "Snakes don't need to eat that often. It'll manage."
Daotok frowned. "Alright, hand Khun Jeon back."
"Why? I'm not even doing anything to him."
"You're swinging him too much."
Arthit scoffed. "No, I'm not. Look, Jon's having fun, aren't you?"
Daotok froze. "What did you just call him?"
"Jon."
"No, it's Khun Jeon."
"Jon," Arthit repeated stubbornly. "Here, I'll squeeze his tail."
"You're so mean," Daotok grumbled, swatting at his hand. But instead of being remorseful, Arthit only laughed harder. Surprisingly, Khun Jeon—the innocent victim of their tug-of-war—remained unbothered by the antics. Daotok sighed in exasperation. Why did his plush still like Arthit so much?
"Alright, fine, here," Arthit finally relented, handing Khun Jeon back. Daotok carefully placed him on the floor, picking up a toy to keep him occupied. As he did, Arthit suddenly spoke up. "By the way, do you remember that drawing project my dad mentioned? Direk just called to remind me."
Daotok blinked. "Ah... Yes, I remember. Tell him to email me the brief."
"Email to what?"
"I'll let you know." Daotok glanced up from his work, his brow furrowed in concentration.
"Will you manage? There's my coloring project too," Arthit reminded him, eyes flicking toward the stack of work he had yet to finish.
"I'll make it work," Daotok assured him without hesitation. "I've already scheduled with the client, and I promised Uncle Direk as well."
Arthit tilted his head, watching him. "If you can't handle it, just tell Direk."
"No, I can," Daotok insisted firmly.
A teasing smirk curled on Arthit's lips. "True professional."
Daotok handed him one of Khun Jeon's toys without another word. Arthit took it, confused, before looking down at the expectant gaze of the small creature. When Khun Jeon playfully nudged the toy toward him, he let out a reluctant sigh and joined in, albeit half-heartedly.
"Keep him entertained for me. I'm going to work," Daotok said, stretching slightly before turning back toward his painting.
Arthit groaned. "I'm too lazy. Can't he play alone?"
"Then leave it. He'll find something else to do," Daotok muttered, already shifting his focus away.
Eventually, Khun Jeon lost interest and wandered off in search of a place to sleep. Meanwhile, Daotok sat before his canvas, brush in hand, yet his mind refused to cooperate. Instead of making progress on his project, he found himself sketching a portrait—of Arthit.
At some point, his gaze drifted toward the wall above Arthit's desk. He hadn't noticed before, but his sketch had been pinned there, beside a collection of landscape photos and an array of sticky notes. Some photos were of Arthit on trips, likely memories from places he had visited.
"Is it nice?" Arthit's voice broke through his thoughts. "Should I pin a picture of myself for motivation while studying or something?"
Daotok shot him a flat look. "Don't."
"Why not?"
"No."
Arthit chuckled, pulling out his phone. "Let me take one for you. I'm pretty good at photography. Wanna see the pictures I secretly took of you?"
Daotok froze. "You took pictures of me? Secretly?"
"They're all over my Instagram. Check it out."
Blinking in surprise, Daotok immediately reached for his phone and opened Arthit's profile. Scrolling down, his breath caught slightly—nearly the last ten photos were of him. The angles, the lighting, the subtle edits—Arthit had a knack for photography. His face wasn't directly visible, but anyone familiar with him would recognize the details. Each post had the same simple caption: a single red heart emoji.
"I didn't take clear shots of your face, so no one knows it's you," Arthit explained with a casual shrug. "Figured you might not be ready yet. But if you want me to take a proper one, just say the word."
Daotok quickly averted his gaze, locking his phone. "N-no, it's fine."
Arthit smirked, clearly amused. "You're flustered again."
"Why did you post them?" Daotok asked hesitantly.
"Because I wanted to. Even if you asked me to delete them, I wouldn't. It's my Instagram."
"Everyone can see them."
"Exactly. That's the point."
Daotok bit his lip, his fingers fidgeting slightly. "It's nice."
Arthit's smirk widened. "What is?"
"I feel good about it."
Arthit's eyes darkened slightly, his playful demeanor shifting into something more serious. "Damn... that's a perfect response. I like it. I like it so much I don't even know what to do anymore."
Sensing danger, Daotok instinctively leaned away. Arthit laughed, shaking his head. "Relax. I won't do anything. One kiss earlier and you're already so flustered."
Daotok's ears burned at the reminder. He muttered something under his breath and turned back to his painting.
"Why the hearts?" he asked after a moment.
Arthit leaned in close, voice lower than before. "Because you're my heart."
Daotok fell silent.
After a few beats, Arthit exhaled. "You're working on your painting, right?"
"Yeah."
"Are you going anywhere tomorrow?"
"No."
"Let's hang out."
Daotok shook his head. "I need to work."
"Work on my stuff? Don't worry, the condo staff should come in the morning, so we'll get a spare keycard. You can change and go out with me."
"I need to work."
"Let's just go somewhere close," Arthit insisted. "How about the mall?
You're drawing for my dad, right? I'll cover the cost of the materials."
Daotok hesitated.
"See? You're starting to consider it."
"Fine," he relented. "But I need to buy paints or something since I'm running low."
"Great! We can eat at the mall too. And you can help me pick up some stuff."
"Stuff?"
Arthit grinned. "Yeah."
Daotok sighed. "Okay."
Satisfied, Arthit grabbed a book and settled next to him. He read quietly for a while, but every so often, when he got bored, he would reach out—tracing his fingers along Daotok's cheek, ruffling his hair, or squeezing his chin before returning to his book.
Eventually, exhaustion crept in, and Daotok packed up his equipment, preparing to sleep on the sofa.
"What's with you and the sofa? I'm going to throw it out."
Daotok rolled his eyes. "I'm sleeping on the sofa tonight."
"My back hurts if I sleep on the floor."
"Then sleep on the bed."
Arthit raised a brow. "But if you're on the sofa, you should come to the bed too. The sofa's too small. How am I supposed to cuddle?"
"Just don't."
"Maybe I should get a bigger sofa since you love it so much."
"I'm not planning to stay in your room forever."
"Then I'll throw out the bed and sofa in your room so you'll have no choice but to come to mine," Arthit said, as if struck by a brilliant idea.
Daotok frowned. "That's a bit much."
"Nothing's too much—except my love for you!"
Daotok sighed, pulling the blanket over himself. Exhaustion finally won over, and soon, he drifted into sleep. But when morning came, he awoke not on the sofa—but on the bed, beside Arthit once again. Annoyed, he flicked Arthit's nose lightly, watching as the other stirred in his sleep. Even if he tried to resist, Arthit always had his way.