Prologue
"Cancelled, sir?"
The speaker's voice was soft, tinged with disappointment. His full lips were slightly pursed as he reached for a pen to cross out another appointment on the schedule. He'd lost count of how many had been cancelled. The line went silent for a moment before a soft sigh escaped.
(Hmm, yes. All of your work for now will have to be cancelled, Arjen.)
"Then perhaps you can assign me with other tasks? I could assist with managing the actors on set."
(No, Arjen.)
"..."
(That's all.)
The manager quickly refused and hung up. The conversation was over, but his white hand still held the phone to his ear, his eyes clearly clouded with sadness. Arjen slumped onto the bed. Seeing all his work cancelled, he sighed wearily...two full months he'd been in this terrible situation.
'Now, let's move on to a story that continues to generate buzz. A well-known young actor is rumored to be having an afair with the married owner of a major television network, who already has two children…'
"Ugh…"
He grabbed the remote and immediately turned off the television. He recognized himself as the subject of the report, and knew the news would once again fuel societal criticism, even though none of it was true.
The rumors spread far and fast, escalating into a major scandal. His lone voice was no longer enough to counter the on slaught. All his social media accounts had to be shut down due to the intense backlash. All he could do was stay confined to his room, avoiding contact with anyone.
Twenty-four-year-old Arjen was a popular rising star, despite being relatively new to the entertainment industry. He had a steady stream of acting gigs in series and modeling work.
But then the rumors hit, and his promising career plummeted overnight. No matter how hard he tried to refute them, the scandal continued to be fueled, wave after wave.
"Ugh, it’s all gone again?"
He mumbled in frustration, opening the refrigerator to find only a few bottles of water. If he didn’t go out and buy more groceries, he’d be going hungry this night. His finances were also dwindling. Arjen hesitated for a moment before grabbing a small bag and heading out the door.
The bustling cityscape was the same as always. Arjen, small of stature, walked listlessly along the sidewalk, his hands full of groceries and necessities. Though his feet moved forward, his mind raced with worries.
In a few months, he had to pay his younger sister's university tuition. However, his financial situation was becoming dire. Waiting for more acting work was uncertain; he didn't know when, or if, those opportunities would return.
He needed to find a new job. Anything would be better than being cooped up in his room with no income.
Lost in thought, he didn't notice the pedestrian crossing light turn red. He stepped onto the street just as a sleek black car, speeding along, bore down on him. A loud horn blared, followed by the startled screams of onlookers, jolting him back to reality.
"Sir, watch out for the car!!!"
His brown eyes widened in terror as he saw the car hurtling towards him. He scrambled to get out of the way, but was still clipped, losing his balance and falling hard, his knee slamming against the pavement.
People rushed to his side, just as the car screeched to a halt and its driver got out. Arjen sat there, gasping for breath, still shaken.
"Hack…"
"Were you even looking at the crosswalk?! Walking around like that, do you want to get hit by a car?!"
"I… I’m sorry. It was my fault… Is your car alright..?"
The small figure quickly apologized, feeling intensely guilty at the angry reprimand. But the words died in his throat as he looked up and met the other man's gaze. For a moment, it felt as if time stood still. His heart pounded uncontrollably. The other man remained silent for a moment before crouching down to examine the scrape on his knee.
The man was tall, with grey-dyed hair, wearing a black shirt and ripped jeans. His dark eyebrows, initially furrowed in anger, softened slightly, though his overall demeanor didn't change much except to seem even more striking than before.
He knelt to carefully inspect the injury to his knee… even after a moment had passed.
...And then there was the scent of his cologne; it was diferent.
"Let me take you to get that wound treated."
"It doesn’t hurt."
"I’m not asking if it hurts, I’m saying I’m taking you to get it treated."
His handsome face lifted, his attention diverted from the injury. His dark, intense eyes met Arjen’s in a steady gaze, conveying a seriousness that seemed to say no matter what excuse he offered, the other man would still take him to get his wound treated. His full lips pressed together slightly as he lowered his gaze to his ankle, which was still held gently in the other man's hand.
Ratcha (King) Akkahamesakun.
His ex-lover, someone he had been with for four years before their breakup.
"..."
"Get in the car."
Arjen frowned, about to refuse, when he overheard whispers about him; the rumors circulating about him were still making headlines. A feeling of apprehension washed over him, and unconsciously, he moved closer to the man in front of him, seeking refuge.
"Or maybe the graze on your arm afected your leg? Should I carry you to the car?"
"My leg isn't broken. I can walk."
His beautiful, round eyes glared at his ex, then he pulled away from his grasp. As more people began to notice the situation, he finally relented and carefully got into the car. Ratcha took the driver's seat, stepped on the gas, and drove away in the quiet tension.
The car pulled up beside a small alley. Arjen watched as Ratcha disappeared into a pharmacy. A short while later, he returned with a first-aid kit.
Back in the car, the younger man remained in the same position, his shoulder pressed against the door. The older man leaned his head against the seat, his sharp eyes glancing over before speaking in a calm but incredibly irritating tone to Arjen.
"My arms aren't two meters long, sweetheart. Extend your leg."
"I didn’t ask you to treat my wound."
One started, the other retorted instantly. Ratcha looked at his ex, who was frowning with defiance, before turning his attention to the scraped knee. A soft sigh escaped him before he leaned over, grabbed the smaller leg, and pulled it across his own. Arjen grabbed the armrest in surprise.
"Ouch! It hurts..."
The smaller figure flinched and tried to pull his leg away as the cotton was pressed firmly against the wound. The taller man stopped immediately, his sharp eyes meeting Arjen's, his expression suggesting that being nibbled on by a puppy probably hurt less.
Even so, he softened his touch, though it still remained somewhat rough. The smaller man placed his hand on Ratcha’s strong forearm and squeezed gently when he felt a sting. His eyebrows furrowed in response to the reprimand.
"Next time you go somewhere, watch where you’re going."
"Mind your business..."
"You want to be strolling down the street, and then suddenly find yourself in a hospital bed? Is that what you want?"
His handsome face looked up, meeting his, his eyebrows raised slightly in a teasing question. He subtly increased the pressure of the cotton on the wound, causing the smaller person to wince and let out a soft gasp. The hand resting on his strong arm squeezed gently, his eyes conveying a silent plea for less pressure.
After a while of fussing with the supplies, the first aid was complete. Ratcha lightly smoothed his thumb over the wound to check it, while Arjen continued to gaze at his face, thoughts swirling in his head.
When their eyes met, Arjen quickly released the arm and made to open the car door.
However, the car began to move, cutting him of.
"I’m going home."
"Where should I drop you of?"
Instead of ignoring each other, a question was issued. The conversation resembled two people who dislike each other, forced into a confined space for an extended period. The pale figure hugged the supermarket bags close, muttering. Being together for the first time since their breakup made him feel awkward.
He secretly wondered if someone had already replaced him in his usual seat in the car?
But whatever, they had been broken up for a year.
"I can go home myself. Drop me off here."
"Dropping you off here is perfectly fine, sweetheart. Are you planning on helping them unclog the sewer or something?"
His grey hair was roughly swept back, his tone nonchalant, almost disinterested. The car continued down the road at increasing speed, passing roadworks at intervals. No matter how much Arjen insisted on getting out here, the older man showed no sign of stopping. But the stubborn young man wasn't giving up.
"I don't want to be with you!"
"Then jump out."
Tit for tat. Ratcha challenged him with a look while Arjen bit his lip, hugging the shopping bags tighter, lacking the courage to actually jump. Arjen's beautiful brown eyes softened before speaking again, remembering a job advertisement they’d seen.
"...Go to King Bar."
The car slowed instantly, as if the driver knew the place well and was suspicious. Long, slender fingers tapped the steering wheel slowly before he spoke in a calm but authoritative voice that made Arjen, a non-drinker, instantly bristle and glare.
"You're barely taller than an ant. Trying to drink alcohol?"
"Don't be ridiculous. I'm going there to apply for a job!"
A few days earlier, he'd seen a job posting for a bartender at this very bar while scrolling through news on his phone. Though not a drinker, being a bartender wasn't beyond his capabilities. At least it was a job, a source of income, now that his acting career had plummeted.
His round eyes turned to his ex, confused by a low chuckle from the other. But the question remained unanswered. There was no further conversation as the car smoothly drove towards its destination, seemingly familiar with the location.
King's Club&Bar 4:30 PM
Arjen entered the pub-bar, slightly nervous. Seeing a staff member polishing glasses behind the counter in preparation for the evening, Arjen immediately approached them. The staff member looked surprised as they looked up.
"Hello, is the owner here?"
"Yes?"
"I saw your job posting for a bartender and I'd like to talk to the owner and try out for the job."
The staff member raised an eyebrow slightly, confused by the question, glancing subtly at Ratcha, the taller figure standing arms crossed, silently observing the smaller man. Arjen quickly turned back, his face slightly sullen, though not intimidating, to the person who was still standing behind him.
"Why are you following me? Go away!"
"Aren't you with the owner, Mr. Arjen?"
"The owner?"
The following sentence caused Arjen to sharply turn back, repeating the question with a tone of disbelief. Now, the employee was completely bewildered, glancing between Arjen and the person behind him before finally pointing at Ratcha and saying,
"It's Mr. King."
Arjen went still, feeling a blush creep up his neck. He imagined the person behind him laughing at him. He must look ridiculous, he thought. Arjen stood frozen in thought for a moment before a deep, husky voice ordering a drink broke his reverie.
"A dry martini, please."
"..."
"You're here to try out, aren't you? Serve the customer their drink, trainee."
The handsome face looked down at the person who barely reached his chest. Arjen looked like he was pufing up in indignation at the change in address. A thin lip curled into a cruel smile; the threatening manner didn't faze Ratcha in the least.
Arjen looked at his ex-lover, soon-to-be boss, settling onto a luxurious sofa, while Arjen stood clenching his fists, his eyebrows furrowed so tightly they almost touched.
The small figure stared at the dry martini placed before Ratcha, waiting for him to pick it up and serve it. He paused, then walked the other way, picking up a bottle of ordinary beer anda glass. He headed straight for Ratcha. To give up now wouldn't be Arjen's style, even though his small body was beginning to tremble.
If Ratcha gave an order, the opposite always happened. He'd create a psychological war, pushing the other person to the point of rejecting the job offer... However, everything went unexpectedly. The tall figure leaned back against the sofa languidly and gave a calm order, though it wasn't the drink he wanted.
"Pour it."
"Don't you have hands?"
"Did the trainee leave his hands at home? Why can't you pour it?"
The retort was immediate, their dark eyes meeting. It was as if a small fire was crackling between them. But Ratcha was ready to throw a bucket of water on it, turning it into a raging inferno that would consume them both. Arjen's face soured even more before grabbing the beer, pouring it into a glass and placing it down defiantly.
Ratcha chuckled deeply, clearly amused by the display. Some of the staff watching from afar nervously wondered if the new trainee would be fired after this first-day stunt.
"Where are you going?"
"I'm going home. After this, you're definitely not going to hire me. Ow!!"
His voice was cut short as his wrist was seized, and he was pulled onto the sofa opposite Ratcha, losing his balance.
His beautiful brown eyes flashed with defiance. He lifted a foot under the table, aiming to kick Ratcha in the stomach, then flinched as his small ankle was caught. A thumb gently kneaded his Achilles tendon. The younger person bit his lip, his body trembling slightly.
Being touched on the ankle like this was Arjen's weakness. Ratcha, his former lover of four years, knew this well. Their eyes locked, the ankle massage continuing.
"Ahh… Let go of me, P’Ratcha…"
The defiant Arjen softened, his gaze growing pleading as Ratcha refused to release him.
Ratcha's husky voice addressed his employee, his eyes still on Arjen.
"Prepare a room for him. Tomorrow would be even better."
"Yes, sir."
"Have him serve on the second floor. Keep him close… so I can teach him how to tell the diference between a martini and regular beer."
"Ow!"
Hearing the pointed sarcasm, Arjen's defiance returned. A small foot lashed out towards Ratcha's stomach, before being caught and pulled, forcing Arjen to grab the sofa for support. Ratcha’s handsome face tilted slightly, his brows raised as he spoke, clearly enjoying provoking Arjen.
"The bar owner hired you, why aren't you grateful?"
Arjen bared his teeth, but his body softened again as Ratcha's fingers expertly kneaded his ankle. What had been a hasty retreat was transforming into a desire to win against the person in front of him.
A large amount of saliva was swallowed, and a deep breath was taken, gathering courage.
"I’ll make this place crumble, P’Ratcha. Just you wait!"
Arjen’s sweet face lifted defiantly, the boastful words delivered despite a slight tremor in his voice. Instead of displeasure, Ratcha chuckled deeply, leaning closer until their faces were inches apart.
A wicked smile played on his lips as he playfully brushed Arjen’s prominent nose, causing the smaller figure to wrinkle his nose and huf.
Then, a defiant reply, showing no fear of Arjen’s threat.
"Oh really?"
"…"
"I’m actually looking for an excuse to spend some money. Go ahead, ruin the bar like you said you would."
