Chapter 1
Arthit Rojnapat, twenty-seven, leaned back in his office chair, staring at the spreadsheet that refused to balance itself. Numbers blurred, his temples throbbed, and the buzz of fluorescent lights grated on nerves already stretched thin. The open-plan office of the Bangkok engineering firm was a wasteland at this hour. Most desks sat abandoned, monitors dark, swivel chairs askew as if their owners had fled a crime scene. Only the occasional clack of a distant keyboard broke the monotony.
He rubbed his eyes. The overtime wasn’t necessary—his section chief hadn’t asked for it—but the alternative was his apartment. Four bare walls, a fridge with more expired yogurt than edible food, and a silence so thick it pressed on his chest.
Arthit was not a man who liked silence. No matter how much he cribbed about his friends being noisy when they visited him at his apartment.
He turned slightly, catching his reflection in the darkened windowpane. Fair skin ghostly under the office lights, hair falling just right in that annoyingly unintentional way that made juniors whisper. Five-foot-nine, lean, his frame neither bulky nor fragile, but balanced—athletic enough to look sharp in a fitted shirt, ordinary enough to avoid unwanted attention. To his irritation, colleagues often stole glances. He ignored them.
There was a time he rejoiced in stolen glances. People being awestruck simply because he shaved off his mustache and beard after Sotus. Eight times out of nine, his locker had atleast one letter of his admirer — both named and secret — both boys and girls. It irked Kongpob like nothing else. Especially, the ones who came to deliver the letters by hand. Kongpob would stare the hole in the letter, hoping to incinerate it on the spot. Only making Arthit laugh.
He was considered one of the most handsome head hazer in their college’s history. One of the most good looking employees in his company. His seniors treated him to food and drinks more than others. Pretty privilege was really a thing. And Arthit shamelessly enjoyed it until he couldn’t anymore....
Handsome meant nothing if life felt empty.
And that emptiness had a name: Kongpob Suthiluck.
Two years younger, once his relentless junior during SOTUS hazing days, Kongpob had been a constant disruption.
The boy had carried a hero complex too large for his lean frame, always charging in where he wasn’t needed. Worse, he had a mouth that never quit. “If you don’t give me this gear, I’ll make you my wife, so that what’s yours is mine.”
The words still burned in Arthit’s memory—ridiculous, audacious, humiliating. Yet, in the quiet of several long nights, those same words had left him breathless in a way exams and deadlines never had. In dreamland , where he was devoid of weights of societal judgement, filial duty and lineage weighing him down, Kongpob was the wind lifting him up. And in that sacred space , sometimes he didn’t avoid the embrace that made him hope. He didn’t pretend to not know the real meaning or longing behind kongpob’s words.
Kongpob was in China now, chasing a master’s degree, and Bangkok felt hollow without him. The group chat with Bright, Knot, Prem, and Tutah remained lively, but their jokes skimmed across Arthit’s surface. It was Kongpob’s voice that had once cut through his armor. Loud, reckless, insistent. Annoying. Necessary.
It was only him who could penetrate his icy exterior, take on his worse moods and mange to cheer him up.
It was also him, who kept Arthit on his toes. Teased him like there was no tomorrow and irritated him until Arthit wanted to chokeslam him.
The guy had no sense of private space , at least when it came to Arthit. He had ironed his shirts, cleaned his kitchen, organized his cupboard, compartmentalizing his clothes according to season and occasion. Arthit out of frustration said , ” If you were a girl, I would have married you. ”
" You can do. Even if I’m a boy. ” Kong had retorted immediately. ” Don’t tell me you join pride parade for show. ”
Arthit looked away from Kongpob’s intense Stare. ” That was to support Toota. ”
Kongpob hung the coat on the rack and turned to Arthit ” I would have believed you if you wouldn’t have kissed me without a minute’s hesitation. ”
" Because, it was a dare. If we would have waited five more seconds, they would have made us kiss twice. ” Arthit easily got riled up , the moment that came up ” Don’t forget , you slipped the tongue to me. If anybody is infatuated here. It’s you. ”
" I am ” Kongpob had shrugged ” That was never a secret. The way you pulled me to the kiss, you could have made me do anything you wanted . ”
" You...you ...” Kongpob had successfully broken Arthit. ” Shameless ! ”
" I’m simply saying , you can have anyone breathless and brainless, the way you take charge ”
Arthit felt his face warming up, even when he was alone. This was not even the most shameless thing Kongpob had said.
He definitely missed Kongpob...
Arthit scoffed under his breath, spinning his pen between restless fingers.
As if.
Two years ago, when he had visited his grandma’s place, he was bitten by mosquitoes a lot. Even when he had mosquito net, he used to move so much in sleep, one or other managed to sneak in through the gap and feasted all night on Arthit. When Arthit came back after two weeks , he felt restless and couldn’t sleep. Because there were no mosquitoes or their buzzing .
It must be just that. Kong-mosquito-pob used to buzz nonstop, so he isn’t habitual of this weird emptiness.
Yeah... that made sense.
Still, when his phone buzzed across the desk, his hand darted to it before logic caught up. The caller ID glowed: Kongpob Suthiluck. Video call.
His pulse betrayed him, quickening. He set his jaw, smoothed his expression into its usual scowl, and tapped the screen.
“P’Arthit!” Kongpob’s grin filled the display. Even through a grainy connection, he looked infuriatingly vibrant—sharp jawline, dark eyes full of mischief, athletic shoulders framed by a dorm room’s clutter. His laugh seemed to crackle through the air, reckless and warm. “ Where are you? ”
" Office ”
" Workload ? Am I disturbing you? Should I call later ? I’m going to hang up first— ”
" No...no ...no ” Arthit said hurriedly. ” There’s nothing urgent. I just thought to do some things in advance...”
" Then, that’s also work na phi. I will call you when you are done — ”
Arthit’s anger spiked out of nowhere ” Yes, I’m very busy all my life. Never call again. ”
Kongpob laughed, ” Are you mad at me phi ? ”
" No..”
" Then...did you Miss me?”
Arthit snorted, leaning back to hide the treacherous heat in his cheeks. “Miss you? Why would I miss you ?”
" Because , we used to hunt new hotpot places on Friday night to celebrate upcoming weekend. It’s fifth Friday that you’ve spent holed up in your office. You are definitely missing me and my superior restaurant hunting skills. ”
" What do you mean by holed up in my office. I had some work that I needed to do — ”
" No objection on you missing me huh ? ” Kongpob teased, wiggling jus eyebrows.
Arthit smiled innocently, exactly the way he did before roaring someone dry...” What is there to object. People even miss bedbugs after long exposure to them...”
Kongpob laughed, the sound echoing into Arthit’s sterile cubicle. “Oh, P’Arthit... Is this your way of saying, you want me in your bed?”
Air caught in Arthit’s throat. He choked, sputtering. “You—! Watch your mouth, Kongpob Suthiluck. ”
" I did, It’s pretty kissable is what I think. ”
" Do you want to die 0062 ? ”
" In your arms ? ”
“Shut the fuck up 0062. I’m waring you ... I’ll curse you in every language I know!”
“Go ahead,” Kongpob teased, leaning closer to the camera. “It’d be music to my ears.”
Arthit unleashed a flurry of Thai curses, each one answered by another wave of Kongpob’s unrestrained laughter.
The office around him remained silent, but inside Arthit’s chest, the hollowness cracked. This was their pattern: tease, retort, laugh. To outsiders, it looked like flirting. To his friends, it was obvious. To Arthit, it was dangerous—because when the call ended, the silence would return sharper than before.
And yet he never declined the call.
