Arthit insisted on sleeping on the floor next to the sofa, claiming he wanted to be near Daotok, despite the king-sized bed available in the room. He moved with quiet confidence, retrieving a small lamp and a book before settling on the floor against the sofa's edge.
"Are you going to read?" Daotok asked, watching as Arthit placed the book on the table and switched on the lamp.
"Yeah."
"Okay," Daotok murmured, lying down on the sofa.
Arthit leaned back against it, pulling the table closer to rest his book on its surface. The soft yellow glow from the lamp illuminated his face, casting faint shadows as he turned the pages. After a moment, Arthit glanced up. "Are you going to sleep? Should I turn off the light?"
"Mmm." Taking that as an answer, Arthit rose to turn off the main light, leaving only the dim lamp to soften the room's darkness. Daotok turned onto his side, facing away from the glow, shutting his eyes despite the lingering wakefulness. There was nothing to do but let his thoughts drift. Minutes passed in silence, the quiet hum of Arthit's presence grounding the stillness in the air. Then, his voice broke through.
"Are you asleep yet?"
"Not yet."
"Talk to me. I'm bored."
"You'll lose focus on your reading."
"I can talk and read. I want to talk."
Daotok sighed, shifting slightly to face Arthit's side. He hesitated before settling on a topic. "Why's your name Arthit?"
"I was born on a Sunday."
"But you must have an official name, right? What do you use abroad?"
"Dylan."
"Ah, it's a nice name."
Arthit grinned. "Whoa, did you just compliment me?" He propped his arm on the sofa, bringing their faces a little too close. Their eyes met for a brief second before Daotok quickly looked away. "I complimented your name."
"Why are you avoiding my gaze?"
"..."
"Are you embarrassed?"
"Yeah."
Arthit let out a quiet chuckle, his voice laced with amusement. "No way, really?" Daotok didn't respond, turning his face further into the sofa. Arthit's expression shifted into something more mischievous. "Turn this way for a second."
"No."
"Man... Seriously, why do thoughts about wanting to pin you down keep popping into my head?"
Daotok's eyes narrowed. "If you try, I'll hit you."
"Would you really?"
"Yeah, as punishment."
"Why would I deserve punishment? It's just a thought."
"Even thinking about it is bad."
Arthit hummed thoughtfully before flashing a teasing grin. "Can't help it. Your future husband is just that kind of person."
Daotok turned away again, exhaling in exasperation. "Let's not talk about this anymore. Change the subject."
Arthit smirked. "Who brought it up first?"
Daotok refused to answer, and silence stretched between them—until a new voice cut through. "Is it just me, or have you been talking more than usual?" Emma's voice chimed in. Daotok tensed. His imaginary friend sat across from Arthit, her chin resting in her hand as she watched them with amusement.
Arthit raised an eyebrow. "Huh? Who are you talking to?"
Daotok hesitated. "Do you remember when I mentioned talking to an imaginary friend?"
His voice was quieter now, unsure. "Yeah."
"Her name is Emma."
Arthit blinked, then snorted. "If it weren't for you, I might've thought you were messing with me. Emma was my mom's name."
Daotok ignored the coincidence. "Well, she's still here. Right now, Emma's sitting and watching you."
Arthit glanced in the direction Daotok indicated but, of course, saw nothing. "I don't see anything."
"She's smiling at you."
Arthit chuckled. "Uh, okay. Can I talk to her?"
"Yes, of course. I'd love to talk to him," Emma said enthusiastically. Daotok relayed her words, and Arthit, intrigued, looked back toward the empty space.
"So, what does your friend think of me?"
Daotok hesitated.
"What is it?" Arthit pressed. "What did she say?"
"A little. Keep it up, I'm rooting for you," Emma supplied.
Daotok sighed, reluctant. "She said 'a little.'"
Arthit grinned, his tone exaggeratedly pleased. "You like me a little now?"
Daotok huffed. "Yeah. Emma said so."
"Emma is basically your subconscious, right?"
"Uh... yeah, I guess so."
Arthit sat up straighter, his grin widening. "Oh, great!" He turned back to Emma's supposed spot. "What kind of person am I, according to her?"
Daotok hesitated again, his face heating up as Emma spoke. "You're someone who looks very attractive, with eyes so beautiful they make me want to draw them. Honestly, you're really handsome. Though Michael didn't open up to you because of your appearance. Personality-wise, even though you're blunt and rough around the edges, you're actually incredibly sweet." Daotok swallowed. "It's... a lot. Don't worry about it."
Arthit clicked his tongue. "Cheater. You're just embarrassed and avoiding the question, huh?"
"Yeah." With that, Daotok turned over, curling under the blanket.
"Fine, then I'll ask you instead. In your eyes, what kind of person am I?"
Silence.
Arthit smirked knowingly. "If you don't answer, I'll kiss you."
"Here we go again."
"Just answer. Besides, you can't lie."
Daotok sighed. "Why do you think I can't lie?"
"Because you're not the type to lie. I know that."
Daotok hesitated before finally mumbling, "You're rough, harsh, but... sweet."
Arthit's expression softened. "Me? Sweet? No one's ever called me sweet before," he heard Arthit say.
Daotok tilted his head slightly, intrigued. "Really?"
"Usually, people say I'm handsome or cool. Stuff like that."
A small, amused smile tugged at Daotok's lips. "Mmm. I'm happy."
Arthit raised an eyebrow. "Why are you happy?"
"Because I'm the first one to see your sweet side."
The reply must have satisfied him because he gave a single nod and said, "Deal." Before Daotok could process the shift in the atmosphere, Arthit suddenly moved, settling at the foot of the sofa. The unexpected motion made Daotok sit up in surprise. But it was the sight of him lifting his tank top, exposing the taut muscles of his lower abdomen, that sent a jolt of shock through him.
"W-what are you doing?" Daotok stammered.
"I'm ready to be yours tonight." His hands continued to move, the fabric of his shirt rising higher.
Panic shot through Daotok, his heart hammering against his ribs. "W-wait! Stop! Don't take it off!"
Arthit paused, his lips curving into a teasing smirk. "Why? You want me to keep it on? I can do that, but with you, I'd rather take it off. Or..." He lowered his hands slightly. "Would you prefer to take it off for me?"
Daotok's face burned. "No! I was just complimenting you! Why are you taking off your shirt?!"
With an exaggerated sigh, Arthit let his shirt fall back down, feigning annoyance. "Well, aren't you ready to be my boyfriend?"
Daotok blinked. "What?!"
"You said I was sweet, didn't you?"
"Yes, but... what is happening right now?" His head spun, trying to piece together how their conversation had taken such an absurd turn.
Arthit simply chuckled, thoroughly entertained by his confusion. "What were you hoping to achieve by complimenting me?" he asked, amusement lacing his voice.
Daotok narrowed his eyes. "I wasn't hoping for anything."
"Oh, really? Not even to make me blush?"
"No."
"Well, too bad. I am blushing."
Daotok's gaze flickered to his face, searching. "Really?"
"Yeah. That's why I'm saying this."
"Uh... okay."
"Can I hug you?"
Daotok hesitated. "Why?"
Arthit shrugged. "I don't know. I just want to."
"Uh... what if I say no?"
"Then too bad." Before Daotok could react, strong arms wrapped around him, pulling him into a firm embrace. He found himself turned slightly, his back pressing against Arthit's chest. Then, as if this was the most natural thing in the world, a blanket was draped over both of them. "The vibe's perfect. Wanna watch a movie?" Arthit asked.
Daotok made a small sound of acknowledgment. "Mmm."
"What kind of movies do you like?"
"Horror."
"Fine. But it's too much trouble to grab the laptop and hook it up to the TV. Let's save it for another day," he said lazily. "But not tomorrow or the day after."
Daotok sighed, already sensing where this was going. "Ah. I thought so."
"Thought what?"
"You're not just going to make me stay here for two or three days, are you?"
"Why don't you just move in with me?"
"No."
"Think about it. We could split the rent, and you wouldn't have to deal with ghosts bothering you."
"I like living alone."
"I told you, you can still live alone."
"No," Daotok replied, exhaling heavily. By "living alone," he meant having his own space and privacy.
A thoughtful hum sounded from Arthit. "Alright, fine. How about the room next door? That way, I can still drop by and hang out with you often."
Daotok remained silent, refusing to entertain the idea.
"Warm enough?" came the next question, softer this time.
"Yeah."
"This year's colder than usual. Conclusion? Having me around to hug you is the best option."
Daotok let out a quiet scoff. "You'll just get too hot."
"I'll turn up the AC." He didn't respond, allowing the warmth of the embrace to settle over him. It was unfamiliar, this feeling of being held like this. It took a few minutes before he stopped feeling awkward about it. "Can you grab my book?" Daotok reached for the book on the table and handed it over. To his surprise, Arthit placed it in front of him.
"What's this?"
"I'm going to read like this."
"Uh... okay."
The quiet rustling of pages filled the space between them. From his angle, Daotok found himself unintentionally reading along, though the content was too complicated for him to fully grasp. Despite that, he found himself relaxing, lulled by the steady breathing and the strong arms encircling him.
"Getting sleepy?" Arthit asked after a while.
"Yeah."
"Sweet dreams. No need to dream about me, though, because I'll be holding you all night."
Daotok let out a soft huff but didn't protest. He stretched out his legs, adjusted his position, and soon drifted off, cocooned in warmth. Sometime later, he woke up in the dim light, only to find that Arthit had fallen asleep too, the book still open in his hands. Moving carefully, Daotok reached over, took the book, and placed it on the table. As he tried to slip out of the loose embrace, his foot accidentally collided with something on the floor.
A loud thud echoed in the room. "What the hell?" Arthit jolted awake, his voice groggy but alert. In an instant, he was by Daotok's side, concern evident in his expression. "Are you okay?"
Daotok winced. "My ankle hurts."
"Shit." A curse slipped out as he scooped Daotok up and carried him to the bed. Without hesitation, he turned on the lights and examined the injury. "Damn. Is it twisted?"
"Probably, but just a little." He carefully pressed around the swelling.
"Does it hurt a lot?"
"Not too much."
"Still, don't walk on it. You'll make it worse."
Daotok sighed as Arthit grabbed some ointment and began applying it with careful, practiced hands.
"I'll get you some medicine tomorrow. It'll heal faster."
Daotok exhaled. "Thanks."
"No school tomorrow."
"I can't skip," Daotok muttered, though he already knew how this conversation would end.
"I'll help you get a doctor's note later."
"That's too much trouble."
"I'll take care of it myself."
"It's fine."
"Stop being stubborn! Listen to the doctor."
Daotok said nothing, staring at the hands working on his ankle instead. The warmth of the ointment seeped into his skin, numbing the ache.
A sigh, then a sharp voice. "Why be so difficult? Would you rather rest for a day or two, or risk not walking for the rest of your life because I'll have to chain you up? Your choice."
Daotok exhaled through his nose, defeated. "I'll rest for a day or two."
"Good." The hands continued kneading the ointment in slow, methodical strokes. It was an odd sensation, having someone else care for him like this, and Daotok found himself hyperaware of every movement. "These pants are in the way. Roll them up."
"Okay." His pants were long, covering his injured ankle, making the process more difficult. He rolled up the fabric as instructed, exposing his leg.
Arthit's gaze flicked up briefly before he smirked. "You've got nice legs."
Daotok hesitated, then blinked. "Uh... thanks?"
"They'd look good draped over my shoulders."
His brain stalled. "Wait, what does that even mean?"
"I won't tell."
"Hmm."
"You're not even going to ask?"
"If you're not going to tell, then that's that." A nonchalant shrug.
"Fine." Once the ointment was applied, his ankle was wrapped securely with bandages before Arthit stood up, tucking the tube of ointment away. "So, why did you get up in the first place?"
"To go to the bathroom."
Arthit scoff. "Oh, come on. I'll carry you."
"No."
"Then how are you going to get there?"
"I'll walk."
"You really don't listen, do you?" The irritation in his voice was evident. Before Daotok could protest further, strong arms swept him up effortlessly. He tensed instinctively, but there was no struggle—only the feeling of being carried with ease. Within moments, he was set down gently in front of the toilet.
"Don't look."
Arthit chuckle. "Why are you embarrassed? I was just going to steady you."
Daotok shot him a glare, which only seemed to amuse Arthit further. "If I look, will you be mad?"
"Yes."
"Alright, alright. Hurry up, or you'll hurt your ankle more. Good thing the bathroom floor isn't slippery."
Daotok hummed in response, quickly finishing his business. "Done."
Without hesitation, he was lifted again and carried back to the bed, settled down as if he weighed nothing. "Just sleep. I'm going to keep reading," came the instruction.
Daotok glanced at the clock—it was already past 4 A.M. "Aren't you going for a run?"
"Yeah, but I'll leave you here to rest. Let me know what you want for breakfast. I'll grab something for you."
"Soy milk is fine. It's close by."
"Alright. If your ankle hurts or anything, call me."
Daotok nodded faintly, feeling drowsy again. The soothing warmth of the ointment and the quiet rustling of pages lulled him into sleep. By the time he woke, morning sunlight streamed through the window. He glanced around—Arthit was nowhere to be seen. Checking the time, it was past 8 A.M. He must've gone to his ward early. His ankle had been freshly wrapped with a new bandage, the scent of recently applied ointment still lingering. The realization hit him—he must have taken care of it before leaving.
Daotok reached for his phone. A series of messages, sent at 7:30 A.M, awaited him:
[ARTHIT]: No soy milk today, store's closed.
[ARTHIT]: There's food in the fridge. Heat it up. Take your meds.
[ARTHIT]: Yellow pill 1, white pill 2, after eating.
[ARTHIT]: I'll bring lunch later.
[ARTHIT]: Don't walk around too much. Just sit or lie down.
[ARTHIT]: Reply when you're awake. Daotok sighed before typing a short response.
[DAOTOK]: Got it.
Setting his phone aside, he slowly tested putting weight on his injured foot. It didn't hurt enough to stop him from standing, but after a few steps, a sharp pain shot through his ankle. He leaned against the wall, resting before heading to the bathroom. After freshening up, he microwaved the food left for him and took his medication as instructed. His gaze flickered toward Mr. Jeon, who was lounging in a corner.
The dog's bedding had a food tray with some leftovers, indicating he had already been fed. Daotok wanted to play with him, but his ankle wouldn't allow it. Calling him over felt disruptive to his nap, so he simply watched from afar. Thinking ahead, he knew North would likely have something to say about his injury. Not wanting to deal with it just yet, he turned to his computer, deciding to work while he had the extra free time.
The quiet didn't last long. A knock on the door interrupted his focus. Reluctantly, he got up and opened it, revealing North standing there, his spiky hair sticking up as if he had just ridden his motorcycle. He held up a bag, likely filled with snacks.
"Hey, is it true what P' Thit said? You sprained your ankle?"
"Yeah."
North stepped inside, setting the bag down by Daotok's computer. "First off, let me just say, I didn't want to come to this ghost-infested place. But P' Thit accused me of being scared. I'm not scared, okay? That's why I'm here."
"Uh-huh," Daotok muttered, already wary.
North plopped down unceremoniously and began pulling out small packets of snacks. "I came to visit and even brought snacks. Eat up."
Daotok eyed the offering suspiciously. "You're not having any?"
"Nope. All for you."
He squinted at North, skepticism clear in his expression. "Be honest. What's the catch?"
North gasped in mock offense. "What? Nothing! Why are you suspicious? I'm just being generous, bringing snacks for the injured. Sprained ankle, right? Eat these, they'll cure it instantly."
"Cure it?"
"Yeah. Cure you straight out of this world." North smirked, setting the packets on the table. "Fine, fine, I'll leave them here. Eat them, okay?"
Daotok crossed his arms. "You're a terrible liar." Even so, curiosity got the better of him, and he opened a packet, popping a piece into his mouth. Just ordinary snacks. But North's behavior was anything but normal.
North sighed dramatically and flopped onto the bed. "Okay, fine, it's cursed snacks. Can I lie here? Is this the bed you and P' Thit cuddle on?"
"No," Daotok answered plainly.
North scoffed. "He doesn't cuddle you? Wow, surprising, considering how he collects every little opportunity to get close to you."
Daotok rolled his eyes and finished the packet. "So, what exactly is cursed about it?"
North, now lying comfortably, struggled out of his work jacket, revealing the fitted t-shirt beneath. He grumbled about how hot it was before registering Daotok's question. "Huh? What did you ask again?"
"The cursed snacks."
North sat up abruptly. "You ate them?"
"Yes."
"Yes!" North pumped his fist triumphantly. "I'm safe tonight!"
Daotok stared blankly.
North grinned and explained, "Okay, so here's the deal. One of my friends —Tee, that jerk—shoved this bag of snacks into my pocket. By the time I noticed, it was too late to return them. I texted him, asking why the hell he did that, and he said, 'Yeah, it's a prank.'"
Daotok frowned. "How is that a prank?"
North shrugged. "Because the snacks were stolen from his family's kuman thong."
Daotok froze mid-chew. "And you gave them to me?"
"Well, you're not afraid of ghosts, are you? Help me out here. I don't want those little spirits haunting me for their snacks."
"Why would he prank you like that?"
"Right? I'm such a delicate soul. All I did was pour Johnson's baby oil on his shirt and light it on fire. Why get so mad about that?"
Daotok's expression was unreadable. "Ah... uh, yeah. Doesn't seem like a reason to get so upset."
"Exactly!" North huffed. "He lit my shirt on fire in retaliation, though. Look at my jacket—it's full of burn marks. We ended up setting everything in the department on fire that day. Everyone was a pyromaniac. But hey, it's just a slap, and the flames go out."
"Ah, I can picture it. Such wholesome pranks," Daotok deadpanned.
"Right? Don't let jerks hang out together." North smirked and pulled out his phone. "I'm calling him to rub it in."
Daotok shook his head, half-listening as North taunted Tee over the phone.
Eventually, North hung up and stretched. "So, what's up with you and P' Thit?"
Daotok hesitated before asking, "When you opened up to your boyfriend, what was it like?"
North raised a brow. "Why do you ask—? Oh, oh, OH! This is about P' Thit, isn't it? Spill!"
"I've opened up to him."
North clutched his chest dramatically. "Whoa, what made you lose your mind like that?"
"He's genuine."
"Yeah, I can see that. He's dumb, can't lie to save his life, just like me."
"You just insulted yourself."
"Yeah, so what? Anyway, what happened? Tell me."
Daotok explained it briefly. North listened intently, nodding along. "And how did he react? Did P' Thit die of shock?"
"He... acted a bit strange."
North laughed. "When you complimented him, calling him sweet, he said he was ready to be yours and started taking his shirt off." North choked. "That idiot! A little compliment and he's stripping already? What a maniac. Anything else?"
Daotok sighed. "He said my legs were pretty and would look good draped over his shoulders. What does that mean?"
North blinked. "Draped over his shoulders?" He frowned before realization dawned on him. "Oh... OH! That bastard! That's filthy! It's about... you know, that position."
Daotok's expression darkened as understanding set in.
"That's awful. Why is he like this?" North cackled. "Damn, he's bold. I'll give him that."
Their conversation shifted to more mundane topics—lunch, assignments, and Daotok's temporary stay in Arthit's room. North seemed impressed by Athit's sheer force of will in making Daotok stay with him. "Wow, if someone doesn't give P' Thit what he wants, he just takes it." North chuckled. "And you, somehow, opened your heart to this devil of a man. You're a saint."
"If it were you, would you have done otherwise?"
North snorted. "Not if it's P' Thit. Do you think I'm like him?"
"Yeah, just a bit less rough."
"Like siblings born back-to-back," North mused. "No way, I wouldn't want to live with someone like me."
A comfortable silence settled between them. North stretched, glancing at the spot where Daotok had tripped the night before. "What did you trip over?"
"I don't know. It was dark. Whatever it was, it's gone now."
"Maybe he threw it away."
"Maybe."
North's gaze flickered to Daotok's oversized clothes. "Are you wearing his clothes? They're huge on you."
"Yeah, I didn't bring a change of clothes."
"Want one of mine? I can take it off for you."
Daotok raised a brow. "You're always ready to strip, huh?"
North grinned. "Just kidding. Want me to climb over and get you something instead?"
"We're on the seventh floor."
"I'm good at climbing. Used to have a job that involved it."
"Thief?"
"No, coconut seller."
Daotok sighed. "Right."
North flopped onto the bed again. "You'd rather die with P' Thit, huh?"
Daotok didn't answer immediately. "I do. He's the one who made me realize I had a heart."