Arthit pouted, arms crossed as he sat beside Daotok, his lips pressing into a firm line.
"One more," he murmured, tilting his head slightly, eyes gleaming with mischief. "Just one more kiss, and I'll stop sulking."
Daotok hesitated, his soft features scrunching up in thought. A beat of silence stretched between them before, with a tiny sigh, he leaned in and planted a delicate kiss on Arthit's cheek. The touch was fleeting, but it sent a warmth surging through Arthit's chest, a feeling so intoxicating he couldn't contain the wide grin spreading across his face.
His arms moved on instinct, wrapping around Daotok's slender frame and pulling him up in a swift motion. A startled yelp escaped Daotok's lips as his feet lifted off the ground.
"Wha—let me go!" he gasped, hands gripping Arthit's shoulders for balance.
Arthit smirked, effortlessly holding him in his grasp. "I meant a kiss on the lips."
Daotok huffed, squirming in his hold. "Give an inch, take a mile."
"Of course. You kissed my cheek—what kind of reaction were you expecting?" Arthit teased, delighting in the way Daotok's cheeks tinged with color. If anyone called him greedy, they'd be right. Especially when it came to this person.
Daotok's protests faltered, his expression softening. His gaze flickered down, voice barely above a whisper. "I can't..."
Before Arthit could respond, Daotok buried his face into his shoulder. His warmth, his familiar scent—it was almost too much. Arthit tightened his hold, pressing his nose against Daotok's hair and inhaling deeply, savoring the moment before reluctantly setting him down on the sofa.
"Understood now?" Arthit murmured.
Daotok nodded, still refusing to meet his gaze. A quiet chuckle rumbled in Arthit's chest as he ruffled Daotok's hair before stepping back. As much as he wanted to stay and nap beside him, the way his heart was pounding told him he needed to put some distance between them before he lost all restraint.
Grabbing his lab coat, he draped it over his shoulder and left the room, making his way to his own. He sank into a warm bath, the steam curling around him as he let out a content sigh. All the frustration from earlier, every last trace of irritation—it was gone. He barely even remembered why he had been annoyed in the first place.
His thoughts drifted back to Daotok, and a lazy smile spread across his lips. Just thinking about him was enough to make his heart race. The sudden chime of his phone snapped him from his daze. He glanced at the screen.
Direk
Typical. Always calling at the worst times.
He answered with a smirk. "What's up?"
"Are you in the bath?" Direk's voice came through the speaker, laced with mild exasperation.
"Yeah. Coincidence, or did you time it? If you wanted to see me naked, you should've just said so."
There was a long pause on the other end, followed by an audible sigh.
"Arthit..."
Arthit chuckled, shifting slightly in the tub. "Why are you taking off your tie? Don't tell me you're about to—Direk, we can't phone-sex, you know. That's immoral."
"I'm just taking off my tie!" Direk snapped, clearly fed up. "I came here exhausted from work, hoping to chat with my dear friend, and this is what I get? Unbelievable."
"Ha-ha. So, how was work?"
"Fine. How about school?"
Arthit groaned, dragging a wet hand through his hair. "Exhausting as hell.
But you know, I've got someone cheering me on these days. Too bad for you, Direk."
"You mean Dao?"
"Of course. Been meaning to tell you, but never got around to it."
Direk let out a short laugh. "No wonder you're so damn happy. Smiling while bathing—you're grinning like an idiot."
"Here's the thing," Arthit said, launching into a full recount of everything that had happened with Daotok. Direk, ever the patient listener, propped his phone up on his desk, resting his chin on his hand as he listened intently.
"So, you're officially going to be together after you win the race?" Direk asked after a while.
"Exactly."
"Good. That'll give you extra motivation to win."
Arthit smirked. "Honestly, I don't even care about your hundreds of millions, Direk. All I can think about is my partner. Your billions mean nothing to me."
"Well, in that case, I'm keeping your 10% share."
"Wait, no!" Arthit shot up, splashing water onto the floor. "How could you do that? I'm the one doing the hard work! Can't I get 20% instead?"
Direk sighed. "You're always asking for money, and now you want to negotiate?"
Arthit chuckled as he climbed out of the tub, careful not to get his phone wet. Wrapping a towel around his waist, he padded toward his bed.
"Would you at least dry off properly? You're going to soak the floor."
"It'll dry on its own."
"You seriously need cleaning services."
"Too lazy."
"Show me your room, then."
Arthit rolled his eyes. "Nosy as always."
"I mean to turn the camera. I don't want to see you—I've seen you naked since you were a kid."
Arthit snorted and flipped the camera. "Satisfied?"
"Not as messy as I expected."
"Cleaned it recently. Dao tripped over a pile of books and sprained his ankle, so I tidied up."
"Wow. Where did this sudden sense of responsibility come from? Love is terrifying."
Arthit turned the camera back to himself, smirking. "Want to see my pecs?"
"No."
Arthit laughed before his voice softened. "Direk, I told Dao's father I wanted him as my partner."
Direk groaned. "The first time you talk to him, and you tell him that? Are you insane?"
"What's wrong with being honest? He liked me anyway. We even support the same football team."
Direk sighed, rubbing his temples. "Well, if he fits into the family, I guess that's all that matters."
"Exactly. Get the dowry ready."
"We'll start with dinner first. I've never met the family of my son's partner before. Kind of excited."
Arthit grinned. "Then let's make it a night to remember. Do you really need a suit for this?" he asked, watching as Direk grinned at his own reflection in the mirror, smoothing down the fabric of an already impeccable suit.
"Of course," Direk replied with a smirk. "If they're not okay with you, they'll at least be okay with his father."
"Direk," Arthit warned, shaking his head at the veiled implication.
"What? It's the truth," Direk shot back. Then, without missing a beat, he added, "Wait, why are you looking at me like that?"
Arthit leaned against the desk, crossing his arms. "Do you think I'm hot tempered?"
Direk burst into laughter. "Ha! Do I even need to answer that? I've cleaned up so many of your messes, Thit. You lose your temper faster than a firecracker."
Arthit exhaled, his expression shifting into something more contemplative.
"What if I told you just holding Dao's hand calms me down instantly? Would you believe that?"
Direk blinked, momentarily caught off guard. "Thit, I wouldn't believe it for a second."
"But it's true," Arthit insisted, his voice carrying a tinge of wonder. "It's like... oh, my god, it happened. There's this one client who likes him."
Direk's expression darkened with knowing amusement. "A possessive guy like you? That client's probably been beaten to a pulp by now."
Arthit smirked. "He's still alive and well, actually."
"Really?" Direk lifted an eyebrow in disbelief. "Unbelievable. I've known you since you were knee-high to a grasshopper, and I've never seen you hold back before. Not even three bodyguards could stop you. Where do you find this strength?"
"I don't have grasshopper knees," Arthit muttered.
Direk let out a laugh. "If this kid helps you calm down, then it's a blessing. Now I can stop worrying. I've always been concerned about what would happen if someone messed with him. This is a relief."
Arthit was about to respond when a knock at the door interrupted them. He put the call on hold, opening the door to find Min, who returned his bike keys before leaving with a quick farewell. He resumed his conversation with Direk for a while longer before hanging up.
Stretching out on his bed, Arthit switched between scrolling through his phone and staring at his notes, but he couldn't focus. His mind was filledmwith Daotok's adorable face—his bright smile, the soft curve of his lips when he laughed, the way his cheeks flushed whenever he was embarrassed.
You're haunting me too much. Damn it, I just want to hug him so badly. With a frustrated sigh, he grabbed a can of beer from the fridge. Going to Daotok's room right now wasn't the best idea. Holding himself back was the hardest thing, especially when it came to him. He needed a distraction.
Studying was out of the question. Gaming didn't seem appealing either. His eyes landed on the guitar resting in the corner of his room. Before he knew it, he was strumming random chords. Then, something unexpected happened. Words began to form in his mind, melodies weaving themselves between the notes. He grabbed a notebook and started writing.
Time slipped away unnoticed. By the time he looked down, the once-blank page was filled with lyrics and chords. He stared at it in disbelief before a wide grin spread across his face.
Holy crap, did I just write this? I wasn't even trying, and yet it happened. A love song, no less. Damn, I must be really sweet. This needs to be shared. And who else would I share it with but the person I wrote it for?
Without thinking, he rushed to Daotok's room, knocking on the door with his guitar still slung over his shoulder. He was still shirtless, caught up in his excitement.
Daotok opened the door, rubbing his eyes sleepily. "Arthit?" His brows furrowed at the sight before him. "What are you doing here so late?"
"You have to see this!" Arthit blurted in English, his mind still clouded with lyrics and melodies.
Daotok, though confused, stepped aside to let him in. He sat across from Arthit, curiosity evident in his round eyes. God, he looked so cute, it made Arthit's heart flutter.
Without explanation, Arthit started playing. The melody filled the room, raw and unpolished, but filled with emotion. When he finished, silence settled between them before Daotok spoke.
"Did you write that yourself?"
Arthit nodded. "Yeah, just now."
Daotok's face lit up with admiration. "Wow, that's amazing. The song is so good!"
"Really? You're not just saying that?"
He shook his head. "Why would I? It's genuinely good."
"It's not complete yet," Arthit said proudly.
"Can I see it?"
"Sure." He handed over the notebook, watching as Daotok carefully examined the lyrics.
"At first, I was just playing guitar to pass the time, but while thinking about you, a song just came to me out of nowhere."
Daotok's eyes softened. "So, this song is..."
"I wrote it for you."
A warm blush dusted Daotok's cheeks, but his smile was radiant. "Wow, thank you. I'm so happy."
Arthit froze, overwhelmed by the sheer urge to kiss him.
"Hey," he said, trying to act casual. "I deserve a kiss on the cheek as a reward."
Daotok muttered, "That's unrelated."
Arthit laughed. "Well, I'll record a demo at the studio tonight. Want to come?"
Daotok shook his head. "I have a quiz tomorrow."
"Ah, fair enough. If it weren't for the quiz, I'd drag you along."
Before leaving, Arthit leaned down and stole a quick kiss on Daotok's cheek. The stunned look on his face was priceless. The studio was one that Direk had set up years ago, a space designed specifically for Arthit in case he ever decided to return to making music.
It wasn't extravagant, just a medium-sized room within Direk's large house, but it was equipped with everything an artist could need—high-quality microphones, a soundproofed booth, a state-of-the-art mixing console, and various instruments. Yet, despite its readiness, the studio had remained largely untouched, waiting for the day Arthit might step back into his old world.
Direk, being the meticulous and ever-prepared person he was, ensured that the equipment was regularly cleaned and maintained, even if no one used it.
That was just the kind of man he was—thoughtful in ways that most wouldn't expect. Arthit had called ahead, knowing it was late and that Direk would need to unlock the house for him.
When the door finally opened, Direk stood there, dressed in a plain white T-shirt and sweatpants, his hair disheveled from sleep. His eyes were half-lidded with exhaustion, his stance sluggish.
"What are you doing here at this hour?" Direk grumbled, rubbing the back of his neck. "Don't tell me you're about to show me something weird again. I barely slept last time, you jerk."
Arthit grinned, holding up a worn notebook with scrawled lyrics covering its pages. "Admit it, you liked it."
"I hated it."
"You're going to be amazed this time. Here, look at this."
With a sigh, Direk took the notebook from him, flipping it open while rubbing his eyes. He squinted at the lyrics, his mind still groggy from being abruptly woken up. "What is this?"
"A song," Arthit said proudly. "I'm back to writing music."
Direk frowned, glancing between Arthit and the pages in front of him. "A few hours ago, you were showing me... whatever that was. Don't tell me that's what inspired this."
"Why are you still so scared of that?" Arthit chuckled. "I was bored, didn't feel like studying or gaming, so I grabbed my guitar. One thing led to another, and before I knew it, I had a song. It's not finished yet, but it's a start. That's why I came here."
"So you got inspired and rushed over in the middle of the night?" Direk huffed, closing the notebook and handing it back. "Guess my dusty studio is finally going to get some use."
He stretched and glanced at Arthit again, this time with curiosity rather than irritation. "The lyrics are solid. Does the person you wrote it for know about it?"
Arthit nodded, a hint of excitement flickering in his eyes. "He's the first to know."
"And?" Direk prodded, arching an eyebrow.
"He said he was happy and even thanked me."
Direk smirked. "I bet he likes you even more now."
Arthit blinked. "Really?"
"Of course. Who wouldn't love having a song written for them? You've got some moves, I'll give you that." He clapped Arthit on the shoulder before moving to unlock the studio door. "The equipment was checked last month, so everything should be in working order. Go ahead and try it out."
Arthit stepped inside, letting his fingers graze over the control panel, the keyboards, the sleek console that had been waiting patiently for him all these years. "Honestly," he admitted, "I didn't get why you built this at first. But now... it feels perfect."
"I told you your music was good," Direk said, leaning against the doorframe with a smirk. "I made this place just in case you wanted to come back to it one day. And hey, I had the money, so why not? Better than wasting the space. This house is huge anyway."
Arthit rolled his eyes. "Wow, you managed to turn this into a flex."
Direk chuckled. "Do you have rounds tomorrow?"
"Yeah. Early morning."
"Then don't get too lost in this. You have a habit of losing track of time when you're focused. Set an alarm."
Arthit grinned. "Man, you know me too well."
"I've known you the longest in your life," Direk muttered with a yawn. He turned toward the kitchen. "Are you starting now? I'll make something for you to eat."
"Wait, the boss himself is going to cook for me?"
"Don't push your luck," Direk scoffed. "I'm making a sandwich. Be right back."
"Sounds good."
Feeling lighter than he had in a long time, Arthit stepped further into the studio. The dual-monitor setup cast a soft glow over the equipment, the room perfectly organized, ready to bring his music to life.
He sat down, adjusting the controls with practiced ease. Slowly, bit by bit, he started piecing the song together, letting the melodies flow, losing himself in the rhythm of creation once again.
☆☆☆☆☆
Daotok's phone buzzed softly on the desk, breaking his concentration. He glanced at the screen, his heart skipping a beat when he saw Direk's name.
A message awaited him—a photo attachment.
Curious, he tapped to open it. The image loaded instantly, revealing Arthit in the studio, completely absorbed in his work. His fingers curled around a pencil as he scribbled notes onto a sheet of music, his expression one of deep concentration. A warm smile unknowingly spread across Daotok's lips.
It had only been a few hours since Arthit had shown up unannounced at his place, guitar in hand. Without a word, he sat down and played. The melody was foreign to Daotok, yet it resonated within him, as if it had always been a part of him.
When Arthit confessed that he had written it himself—just for him—Daotok had been momentarily speechless. Then, a wave of indescribable happiness had washed over him, leaving a lingering warmth in his chest.
He picked up the notebook Arthit had left behind and flipped through its pages. Each note was carefully written, forming a heartfelt ballad. The tune still echoed in his mind, entwined with the deep timbre of Arthit's voice. If it weren't for his upcoming quiz, he would have followed Arthit to the studio, just to witness the creative process firsthand.
His thoughts were interrupted as he glanced at the message thread. He had exchanged Line contacts with Direk long ago, back when they first communicated via email.
Direk had specifically asked him not to mention their correspondence to Arthit. Since their conversations were infrequent, Daotok had nearly forgotten about it—until now.
His gaze drifted back to the photo. Even though it was merely a still image, Arthit looked so alive, radiating passion and enthusiasm as he worked. A quiet realization dawned on him—he had never liked someone this much before. Just seeing a picture of him was enough to make him happy.
He placed his phone on the nightstand and forced himself to focus on studying. Yet, no matter how hard he tried, Arthit's image remained vivid in his mind. Eventually, exhaustion overtook him, and he drifted into sleep.
Darkness surrounded him. The silence was thick, almost suffocating.
Daotok stirred, his consciousness wavering between sleep and wakefulness.
A shadow loomed over him, and before he could react, a sharp sensation spread across his chest—a warm, wet touch.
A breath hitched in his throat as familiar hands traced slow, teasing paths across his stomach, creeping upward. His body tensed involuntarily.
"Ahh..." A soft sound escaped him as the sensation sent an unfamiliar thrill coursing through his body. His back arched instinctively, a mixture of confusion and something dangerously intoxicating taking hold of him.
"Mmm... stop..."
"Do you really want me to stop?" The voice was low, husky—unmistakably Arthit's.
Daotok's heart pounded violently against his ribs. He wanted to push Arthit away, to protest, but the heat of his touch left him powerless. His breath hitched as a warm tongue flicked across his skin, his chest tingling under the slow, deliberate kisses. The teasing, lingering touches burned into his senses, leaving him weak.
Summoning all his strength, he shoved against Arthit's shoulders. The resistance didn't faze him at first, but eventually, he relented, retreating just enough for Daotok to pull his shirt down and glare at him.
"You're so rude!" Daotok snapped, grabbing a pillow and swinging it at him. The soft thud did nothing to deter Arthit, who merely knelt on the bed with his arms wide open, taking every hit without complaint.
When Daotok finally stopped, panting with frustration, he demanded, "Apologize right now!"
Arthit chuckled sheepishly. "I'm sorry. I totally lost control." His voice softened, carrying a hint of regret. "I knew I might not be able to hold back, but I just... wanted to hold you."
Daotok's face burned hotter. "What the—"
"I can't help it," Arthit admitted with a grin. "Next time, don't let your shirt ride up. You know how crazy I am about you."
"Don't blame me!" Daotok huffed. "Get out!"
"No way. Let me cuddle you, please?"
"And you're still asking?!"
"I'll make it up to you!"
"What?! Are you insane?"
Daotok's heart raced wildly, not just from frustration but from the lingering sensation of Arthit's touch. The bastard was relentless. "I didn't give you my keycard for this!"
"Don't take it back!" Arthit whined, frowning. "Hit me with your soft pillow instead."
"Keep it up, and I'll hit you with a chair!"
Arthit winced at the threat, lowering his head like a scolded puppy. "Fine, hit me if it makes you feel better," he muttered sincerely, making Daotok sigh in exasperation.
"Just don't do it again."
"No way! You smell too good."
Daotok reached out and yanked his ear. "Don't do it again."
"Ah! Ow!"
"At least not until we're officially dating, okay?" Daotok added through gritted teeth, the words tasting foreign in his mouth.
Arthit froze. "You mean... for that kind of thing?"
"Y-Yeah! So don't rush me."
Silence stretched between them before Arthit let out a deep sigh, then smiled. "Got it. Why are you so cute?"
Daotok let go of his ear, shaking his head. "It's good that you understand."
Arthit simply stared at him, eyes glimmering with something unreadable.
"Can I do it again?"
"No!"
With great effort, Daotok sent him off to sleep on the couch, forbidding him from getting on the bed. Arthit grumbled but ultimately obeyed.
The next morning, while still half-asleep, Daotok felt a soft kiss on his forehead, then another on his cheek. A sleepy voice murmured, "I didn't get on the bed, see?" before the sound of the door opening and closing.
By the time he woke up at 8:30 A.M, the only ones left in the room were him and Khun Jeon, his ever-present ghostly companion. As he headed to the bathroom, Cream suddenly materialized from the wall.
"So, what were you two up to last night?" she teased, grinning. "Even ghosts can feel shy, you know!"
Daotok groaned.
"The other ghosts were gossiping! And, wow, your neighbor... he's so handsome! I might've peeked when he went into the bathroom."
"..."
"But don't worry! I disappeared when he... you know, did his business."
Daotok's face turned beet red. "P' Cream! No more spying! No listening, no peeking! Tell the others too. Otherwise, I'll bring Grandma here to exorcise you all!"
Cream huffed. "Fine, fine. But you're blushing! So adorable!"
Daotok turned on his heel and marched away, deciding that, for the first time, living with ghosts was more embarrassing than scary.