Chapter 1
Ok it's been years since I last published something. So this is still quite scary.
I'm just someone who likes to write and read and watch an unhealty amount of bl shows, hence the story's I write.
Maybe someone likes it.
Its not ff, all characters are my own, and are completely fictional. Places, actions, names are also fictional.
Chapter 1
The afternoon sun over Prakarn University burned gold against the concrete paths, humid air clinging to skin and fabric alike.
Thanaphat “Phat” Rattanapoomchai was late.
“Shit.”
He adjusted the shoulder strap of his bag and broke into a sprint across campus, long legs eating up distance. His teammates were going to kill him. Coach was going to—
And then there was an impact.
Mid thought he crashed into another much smaller, softer body.
Everything happened in one sickening second as a startled sound escaped from both of their mouths.
Books flew into the air like startled birds. A backpack hit the ground. The other boy stumbled backward and also hit the pavement hard.
“Hey—!”
Phat skidded to his knees instantly. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t see you. Are you okay?”
The world narrowed.
Beneath him, on the ground, was the most beautiful person he had ever seen.
Soft features and wide dark eyes. A faint crease between his brows from the pain of being hit and tumbling to the ground and brown hair slightly messy from the fall. Shirt sleeves rolled up, revealing pale skin… and blood.
A thin line of red trailing down the elbow of the beautiful boy in front of him had Phat’s heart do something violent inside his chest.
“I really am sorry,” he said again, softer now, leaning over the other one. “Let me see—”
The boys breath hitched and he scooted away from Phats outstretched hand as his pupils blew wide, his shoulders locked and his whole body went rigid in obvious fear.
Phat froze mid movement.
“I- I didn’t mean-” he started again, confused, pulling back immediately.
The boy wasn’t looking at him but past him, through him. Like he wasn’t seeing Phat at all.
“It's fine,” the boy said too quickly. His voice thin with forced control “It’s okay. It's my fault.”
He tried to sit up.
Phat instinctively reached out and caught his wrist.
“At least let me help you up?,” Phat insisted, half teasing, half concerned. “I’m not that heartless.”
The boy flinched back again, but he didn't fight Phats grip as he let himself be pulled back to his feet.
Up close, Phat could see the shallow scrape on the elbow clearly now. It was just a small injury that was bleeding steadily.
The boy pulled his arm back immediately, trying to twist it so he could look at the small injury himself.
“I’m fine.”
He still wasn’t looking at Phat, who shifted from one food to the other, trying to catch his eyes.
That seemed to be a mistake.
Because from this new angle, big, broad-shouldered Phat, leaning over him, probably looked like a threat, as the boy took a hasty step back from Phat, who's brain finally caught up.
Oh.
Oh!
He eased back too, lifting both hands in surrender. “Hey. Sorry. I didn’t mean to crowd you.”
A few students passed by, whispering as they watched the exchange.
The boy in front of him swallowed, eyes flitting around.
“What’s your name?” Phat asked gently.
The boy hesitated for a second before giving his name in a hushed tone.
“…Bak.”
“Bak…I’m Phat. And I swear I don’t usually tackle people as an introduction.”
Bak didn't smile, but his eyes flickered up for half a second, just long enough for Phat to see something fragile there, before they dropped to the ground again.
“I have to go.” Bak bent down quickly, picked up his bag and books, before he tried to step past Phat, who just saw the blood again.
Phat reached out, not grabbing this time, just lightly catching Bak’s shirt sleeve.
“Wait. At least let me take you to the clinic. You’re bleeding.”
The unwanted contact, close proximity and his shadow blocking Baks way, made the smaller ones body going tight again and when he spoke, his voice dropped even lower.
“Please don’t.”
He obviously wasn't angry, or annoyed, just afraid.
Phat took two steps back and lowered his voice to a shotting tone.
“I'm sorry, I will not touch you again.”
Bak’s breathing steadied and Phat felt something shift inside his chest, something protective and fierce. Different from the casual flirting he was used to.
“I’m sorry,” Phat said again. This time without teasing and without ego. “I really didn’t mean to hurt you.”
Bak blinked and kept silent, which stretched between them, while Bak pressed his injured arm to his chest.
“I can go to the clinic myself,” he said quietly.
Before Phat could answer, two voices rang out, sharp, urgent and protective.
“Bak! What happened?!”
In an instant, two figures appeared, jogging toward them.
Bak immediately recognized his two best friends, Worawit “Wit” Chotibutr, with his arms flailing dramatically, eyes wide with alarm and Chakrit “Chak” Phromsawat, calmer but equally intense, his expression unreadable but clearly on high alert.
Wit stopped in front of Bak, enveloping him in a protective hug and inspecting his bleeding elbow. “You’re hurt! What happened! Who did this?!”
Chak, meanwhile, was standing a step behind, his eyes sharp on Phat, who was frozen in place. “Are you the one who hurt him?”
Phat’s mouth opened and closed like a fish. “I-I wasn’t… He just… I didn’t…!”
Wit’s hands were on Bak’s shoulders now, shaking him slightly in worry. “You need to tell me! Right now!”
Bak’s heart pounded in his chest. He wanted to shrink further, hide, disappear. But he couldn’t. He could barely nod, mumbling, “I… I just fell. It’s okay…”
Chak’s eyes didn’t leave Phat. “Fell? That’s what you’re saying while heˋs hovering over you like that?” His tone was dangerous, protective, like he was just seconds away from starting to throw hands, even though Phat was at least one head taller than him.
Phat flailed, trying to explain, waving his hands. “I swear! I didn’t mean to hurt him! I…just didn't see him and ran into him and he fell!”
Wit didn’t release Bak immediately, still holding him close. “Bak, it’s okay,” he whispered softly. “I’ve got you. I’ve got you, don’t worry.”
Bak’s chest heaved, the panic from earlier ebbing just enough to allow some calm. He glanced at Phat briefly, large, awkward, heart-stoppingly handsome Phat, but didn’t meet his eyes.
Chak finally stepped forward, putting a hand gently but firmly on Bak’s back. “Come on. We’re taking you to the clinic.”
Wit wrapped one arm around Bak as if shielding him from the world as Chak guided them both from the scene, keeping an eye on Phat, who stumbled behind them, still trying to stammer explanations.
Bak’s pulse slowly steadied under the protective weight of his friends.
Phat watched them go, his heart hammering.
~•~
The campus clinic smelled faintly of antiseptic, the hum of the air conditioner filling the quiet room.
Bak sat on the examination bed, fingers drumming nervously on his thigh. His elbow throbbed where the scrape had bled, and the tension in his shoulders made him look smaller than he actually was.
“Sit still, Bak,” Chak murmured, gently holding Bak’s arm steady.
Bak’s chest rose and still fell unevenly, panic lingering in his breath. He barely glanced at his friends at all.
From the doorway, a familiar voice called out, grinning as he stepped in. “Heard there’s a patient needing saving?”
It was Natee, a male student nurse and a friend of Wit’s. Bak met Natee a couple of times through Wit, so at least, he didn’t feel completely on edge around him, as he would most likely have with a stranger now.
“Hey, Natee,” Wit said casually, leaning against the counter. “This one tripped and turned a scrape into a dramatic scene.”
“He wasn’t the dramatic one.” Chak throw at Wit, who just rolled his eyes.
Natee laughed softly, pulling on some gloves. “Let’s see the damage.”
Bak swallowed hard. His pulse slowed a little, the tension easing, as he gave a small, hesitant nod, letting Natee gently dab at the scrape, clean the blood, and finish up with the bandage. Then he gave Bak a small nod. “All done. You’re good to go.”
Bak blinked up at him, then looked at Wit and Chak. “Thanks.”
Wit grinned, nudging him gently. “See? Even dramatic Bak can relax a little when we’re around.”
Bak pressed a hand to his chest, letting the tension leave him in slow waves. With Wit teasing him softly, Chak steady and protective at his side, and Natee finishing up the medical part, he felt ok now.
~•~
If Phat was scared to be late before he ran into Bak, now, he was definitely late.
He jogged toward the pitch, jaw tight, mind still stuck on wide, trembling eyes and a quiet voice.
Two figures were waiting near the sideline.
Identical height. Nearly identical sharp features. One with short and one with shoulder long, same colored dark brown hair pushed back from their foreheads.
Arms crossed in nearly perfect synchronization.
Nattakorn “Korn” Theerawattanakul smirked first.
“You’re late.” he stated the obvious with smug satisfaction.
Narin “Rin” Sathirakul glanced at the time on his watch. “Seven minutes and twenty-three seconds late.”
Even though the two young men looked like twins, they were not even related. They were simply two friends who had found each other after months of constantly being mistaken for one another.
Eventually, the shared confusion had turned into an unexpected friendship and now they spend most of their time together, studying and even living in the same apartment. They bantered the way brothers often did, effortlessly slipping into teasing arguments and familiar routines, which only made the confusion worse for everyone around them.
Wherever they went, people asked the same question.
Were they twins?
Korn usually leaned into the misunderstanding, as he seemed to enjoy confusing people even more, answering with cryptic remarks or playful half-truths that left others even less certain than before.
Rin, on the other hand, had grown used to correcting the assumption and setting the record straight.
That they were mostly referred to as “the twins” didn't help with the confusion in the slightest.
Phat dropped his bag onto the grass right next to them. “I know. I ran into someone.”
Korn blinked, confused for a second. “Emotionally?”
“No. Physically.”
Rin’s eyebrows lifted. “That sounds like you.”
“I didn’t mean to,” Phat muttered. “I was running. I didn't see him and knocked him over.”
“And?” Korn prompted eagerly.
“…And he looked at me like I was going to beat him up.”
That made both men pause. The teasing didn’t disappear entirely from their voices but it shifted. Seeing their usually so cool and collected friend look like someone kicked his puppy was unusual.
Rin’s voice softened a bit. “Was he injured?”
“Just his elbow,” Phat said quickly. “Not bad. But when I leaned down to help him back up, he panicked.”
Korn’s smirk faded more. “Panicked how?”
Phat swallowed. “Like I was dangerous.”
The whistle blew sharply.
“Training! Now!” Coach barked.
ˋThe twinsˋ jogged backward toward the field.
Korn pointed at Phat. “If you cry during drills, I’m telling everyone.”
Rin added calmly, “If you keep looking tragic, people will assume you got dumped.”
Phat rolled his eyes at both of his friends, but his chest felt tight.
As training started and usually, Phat dominated the field, as he was strong, fast and precise, today he was a disaster.
The ball came to him and he dropped it.
“Oi!” Korn shouted from across the field. “Hands!”
A tackle came, Phat misjudged it and hit the ground harder than usual.
When he lay there, staring up at the sky, Bak’s face flashed in his mind.
The flinch. The way he avoided eye contact. The quiet, restrained breathing.
He wasn’t just startled. He was scared.
The next play began.
Phat ran too early. Missed the pass.
Rin caught up to him between drills. “You’re distracted.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not,” Korn chimed in, appearing at his other side. “You just got outplayed by a first year.”
Phat dragged a hand down his face.
“Are you still thinking about that boy you ran over?” Korn asked, a little stunned.
“I scared him.”
The two men exchanged a look. That subtle, silent communication only they seemed capable of.
Rin spoke first this time. “Did you raise your voice?”
“No. Of cause not. I don't go around yelling at people.”
“Did you grab him?”
“…I held his arm. He was bleeding.”
Korn hummed. “Big rugby guy. Looming over small injured boy. Yeah. That checks out.”
Phat glared at him.he knew that he was at fault, no need to rub it in like that.
Rin, quieter now, asked, “Was he angry?”
Phat shook his head slowly. “No. Just scared.”
Somehow that landed heavier than any tackle possibly could.
The whistle blew again.
Phat lined up, but his focus wasn’t on the try line.
It was on the way Bak’s shoulders had curled inward like he was trying to make himself smaller.
The play started.
Phat ran.
