Content Warning: This work is intended for mature (NC17) audiences. If you are younger, please kindly leave this site.
~~~
Sky realized he didn’t want Phra Phai angry.
Initially, the young man aimed to push Phra Phai away with coldness, sharp glares, or outright ignoring him. But at some point, he started caring more, trusting more. Last night, on the verge of a breakdown from unfinished work, he called Phra Phai in a near-exploding panic without thinking it through. He didn’t understand why his stress eased just seeing the worried face of the man who came for him.
What started as a need to vent became relief, then worse stress when Phra Phai exploded.
He’d never seen Phra Phai angry, and it shook him.
Sky was sure it wasn’t fear of Phra Phai hurting him, but fear he’d storm out and vanish. That fear drove the young man, who swore he’d never yield, to pull the taller man’s face for a kiss. He didn’t know why, but he kissed him and didn’t regret it.
Not because he had nothing to lose, but because the blazing anger in Phra Phai’s eyes faded to smoldering ashes.
Phra Phai wasn’t angry anymore.
But afterward, Sky had no time to dwell on his heart. Time was tight. He worked on his part, Phra Phai helped with what he asked. They barely spoke, only Phra Phai asking what to do next or if he was doing it right. Sky answered quickly, diving back into work. They didn’t sleep until 4:30 AM. Sky didn’t think much of the taller man sleeping beside him on the bed. No “good night”—they just closed their eyes and passed out. Moments later, an alarm blared—not his, but Phra Phai’s, waking them both.
“Borrowing your bathroom,” Phra Phai said.
Sky nodded sleepily, got up, packed his project into a tube, and stuffed stationery into his backpack. When Phra Phai emerged from the bathroom, Sky grabbed clothes and showered. He could admit he was avoiding facing him. With time to think, guilt stabbed his chest.
How could he call Phra Phai to do his work? It was selfish. They weren’t anything to each other. Phra Phai’s anger was justified. Sky couldn’t meet his eyes, unsure what the man was thinking. But when he left the bathroom, the man he thought would rush to work was still there, sitting on the neatly made bed.
“Come on, I’ll drop you at your faculty,” Phra Phai said.
Sky could’ve argued he had time before class but didn’t. One hand grabbed his bag, the other the project tube, while Phra Phai carried the model he’d helped make.
“Next time I come, I’ll bring the car. This is tough for you to ride,” Phra Phai said.
Normally, Sky would snap he didn’t need picking up, but guilt silenced him. He hopped onto the back of Phra Phai’s big bike, clutching his things tightly, taking the model and holding it like his life depended on it. As Phra Phai said, riding was hard.
He wouldn’t fall, but his project might.
Sky didn’t know the bike’s model or price, but Phra Phai clearly bought it to speed around, luring guys and girls to ride behind, hugging his waist, leaning close. Not Sky—loaded with stuff, guarding his project more than his life. Yet Phra Phai drove slowly, safely delivering both him and his project to the faculty.
“Here, I’ll hold it,” Phra Phai said, taking the model until Sky dismounted, then handing it back with a warm smile.
Phra Phai removed his helmet, letting Sky see that smile fully.
Normally, Sky would turn and walk to class without looking back. But these past weeks, he couldn’t ignore Phra Phai. Knowing he was coming, Sky stayed awake to greet him. After using him for hours last night, he hesitated between saying thanks or “get home safe.”
Neither captured his feelings.
“Phîi Phai, I’m sorry,” Sky said, looking up guiltily.
“Then let me punish you with a kiss on the cheek,” Phra Phai teased.
“Are you crazy?” Sky meant it seriously, but Phra Phai laughed, tugging his arm gently—lucky he didn’t yank, or Sky would’ve stabbed him with a cutter if his project fell. He glared, voice sharp, but saw Phra Phai’s clear relief.
“You apologized, so I’m punishing you. What’d I do wrong?” Phra Phai said.
“Real funny,” Sky replied.
“I’ll laugh for you,” Phra Phai said.
Normally, Sky would smirk, but now he pressed his lips together.
Sky wasn’t dim-witted. He knew Phra Phai was joking to ease the awkwardness. Not liking unresolved feelings, he spoke again.
“I’m really sorry,” he said.
Phra Phai’s smile faded. He released Sky’s arm, touching his cheek instead.
“Trust me, I’m not angry anymore,” Phra Phai said. Sky stared, not fully believing, but Phra Phai read him as always.
“Okay, I was mad last night, but not now. You don’t get mad when I show up uninvited. When you’re in trouble and think of me, I should be happy. Plus, the reward was worth it,” Phra Phai said, eyes glinting at Sky’s lips. Normally, Sky would’ve snapped, but lately, he sensed care beneath Phra Phai’s playful words.
Even if Sky turned and walked away, Phra Phai wouldn’t be mad. But Sky would be mad at himself.
“Cheap labor for one kiss,” Sky said.
“Value depends on the person. To me, you’re always priceless,” Phra Phai said. Sky’s face flushed at the hand stroking his cheek, but he said nothing—couldn’t. He just stared at the taller man, who withdrew his hand slowly, eyes lingering on Sky’s lips with regret.
“I’d better go before I can’t help myself. Study hard,” Phra Phai said.
Sky stood still, watching Phra Phai put on his helmet.
“Oh,” Phra Phai said, lifting the visor. Though his lips were hidden, his eyes showed a smile.
“If you’re in trouble again, call me. But say it’s for work so I don’t panic like last night, okay, good boy?” Phra Phai placed both hands on the bike’s handlebars, lifting one leg to shift gears.
“Phîi Phai!” Sky called, stepping closer, shoving his project into Phra Phai’s arms. The taller man caught it carefully, as if worried it’d break. Sky’s guilt pushed him to do what came next.
“What’s this game?” Phra Phai asked.
Sky ignored him, pulling the helmet up to Phra Phai’s nose without removing it, then…
Kiss!
He leaned in, kissing Phra Phai’s lips hard, stunning the taller man.
A few seconds felt like the world stopped.
Sky felt the warmth he pressed into, couldn’t help sucking lightly, then pulled back, cheeks blazing. He adjusted Phra Phai’s helmet back down, took his project, and mumbled, eyes down.
“I let you punish me. Get home safe,” he said.
Sky spun, striding into the faculty as Phra Phai shouted after him.
“One more? I wasn’t ready!”
“Go sleep!” Sky yelled back, stumbling into the building, not caring what Phra Phai said or did. He was mortified.
Sky swore he did it out of guilt alone, nothing else. Believe him!
***
“Hey, son, not out flirting today?” a voice teased.
“Mâe, you look stunning today. Mwah!” Phra Phai said.
“Scoundrel!”
The sun had just set, and the eldest son walked in with his helmet, in high spirits. His Mâe, used to her three children’s antics, approached curiously, teasing him. But today, Phra Phai was different, hugging her soft waist, pressing his nose hard to her cheek, making her jump.
Normally, he didn’t come home before midnight, if at all. Today, he was early and sweet-talking.
“Did you crash your bike somewhere?” his Mâe asked warily.
“Mâe! How can you talk to your son like that? I have feelings,” Phra Phai said.
“You, have feelings? Only giving your body to others,” she retorted.
“See me in a better light. Why’s everyone so harsh lately? But it’s okay, it’s attractive. I forgive you,” Phra Phai said. His Mâe grew suspicious—his eyes were elsewhere, not praising her.
“Mm-hmm, attractive. Don’t get some girl pregnant. Have you eaten dinner?” she asked.
“Not yet. I’m being good today—straight home from work to sleep,” he said.
Good Lord! Phra Phai, straight home to sleep? More believable he’d sleep with someone.
“Don’t make that face. Someone told me to get home and sleep,” Phra Phai said, heading to shower. Passing the living room, he stopped to tease his Nong peeling an apple.
“Hey, Praiphan, you’re unusually pretty today,” he said.
“What!?” Praiphan gasped, disbelieving.
Phra Phai never praised his siblings, no matter how attractive his brother or sister was, always saying they weren’t worth his notice. Today, he complimented her, and Praiphan shot back.
“You’re the one with the abnormal brain,” she said.
“I’m happy. Don’t be jealous, Nong,” he said, humming as he headed upstairs. He even complimented the house staff on their beauty, and faintly, they heard him call the fish in the tank by the stairs pretty. Mâe and daughter exchanged looks.
“What’s with him?” Praiphan asked.
“Love’s got him choked up,” Praiphan laughed, making her Mâe clasp her hands in prayer.
“Please, let it be true love, man or woman, I don’t care. Just stop his wandering.”
“It’s called being thorough,” Praiphan giggled, earning a swat from her Mâe.
“Ouch! That hurts, Mâe! I’ve been good for months. Why hit me?” Praiphan said.
“How did I raise these kids? Three of them, boys and girls, and none like me,” her Mâe sighed.
“You let Uncle Afros help raise us,” Praiphan countered, earning a glare.
“Eat your apple,” her Mâe said. Praiphan laughed, peeling her fruit, knowing who made her brother come home early, skip partying, and sweet-talk everyone.
How many months with this one? Seems serious.
Meanwhile, the eldest, focused on one person for months, wouldn’t admit to his siblings’ pity that he’d only gotten one kiss nearly four months ago. Humming, he showered, then sat on his bed, rubbing his hair, checking his phone. He didn’t expect much—morning was already the best of the best.
Phra Phai, floored by one kiss!
Last night’s kiss was powerful, but this morning’s was ten times more devastating.
Sky looked hesitant, eyes unsure, yet pulled his helmet to kiss his lips. Those few seconds—he remembered the soap scent, the soft red lips he wanted to crush, the fingertips brushing his chin. No focus at work today, not from lack of sleep, but from that lingering kiss.
Again, he thought Sky was the most attractive, huggable young man in the world.
Yeah, Sky’s the best in the world now.
Quiet face, pretty eyes, red lips, soft hair—never boring.
That thought made him do something unbelievable.
“Delete, delete this one too. Keep this friend. Delete, delete, keep going,” Phra Phai scrolled through his phone’s contacts, deleting any name with a heart emoji—his flings, some one-night, some regular. He hadn’t partied much lately, only racing and delivering supplies to a student dorm.
If he wasn’t contacting them, he deleted them ruthlessly. There were more than he realized.
His phone buzzed, showing a name starting with ‘A’ he hadn’t reached. The heart emoji made him laugh.
“Hello,” he said.
[“Phîi Phai, remember me?”]
Which Nong? I only know Nong Sky now.
“Okay,” Phra Phai said, though his heart recalled Sky’s dislike of being called Nong.
“Ha!” He burst out laughing, hearing “liar” echo in his mind.
[“What’s so funny?”]
“Nothing. What’s up?” he asked.
[“I miss you so much,”] the voice said.
“But I’ve got someone else to miss. Don’t call anymore—I’ve got my real one. Bye,” Phra Phai hung up, uncaring where they invited him. No mood, unless it was the soft-cheeked young man—he’d agree without a second thought.
He kept deleting contacts, taking a while to finish. But he didn’t sleep. He opened the chat app.
I did what you said—came home to sleep. Reward me quick…
After sending, he stood to stretch.
Ding!
“Let me die! So attractive!” Phra Phai grabbed his phone at the notification, laughing loudly at Sky’s sticker of a cockroach laying a trail of eggs, perfectly mimicking Sky’s stunned face. He wanted to hug that face until it protested.
Who cares if others don’t find Sky attractive? He did, and that was enough.
Lately, he didn’t know if he was imagining it, but everything Sky did was attractive to him.
“Am I really going blind?” he mused.
Back then, it was just flirting, but now it might be true—love makes you blind.
“But if it’s this guy making me blind, so be it,” Phra Phai said, flopping onto his bed, skipping dinner, full of heart and soul.
***
Days passed since Phra Phai helped with the assignment, but Sky couldn’t forget the embarrassing moment he kissed him first. He thought he was immune, but why couldn’t he let it go? When Phra Phai said he’d visit, Sky brushed him off—don’t come, working with friends, busy, sleeping early. Food bags hung on his door as usual, and he smiled despite himself.
“You’re in a good mood lately,” a friend said.
“No need to be in a bad one,” Sky replied.
He glanced at his best friend, Rain, looking like a corpse. The same assignment Sky called Phra Phai for nearly killed Rain too. These past days, Rain was a wreck, sleeping through lectures, earning glares from professors.
Not just him—half their major was the same.
“Phîi Phai still chasing you?” Rain asked, making a face, changing the subject.
Anything but assignments. He was ready to puke projects.
“I don’t know,” Sky said honestly, looking down.
His relationship with Phra Phai seemed to move forward, but Sky felt stuck. Before, he was sure Phra Phai just wanted to sleep with him, conquer him, or find some fun. Now, he wasn’t sure. Would someone playing around nurse a sick person for days, deliver supplies, or help with assignments?
He didn’t know how cunning Phra Phai was, but Sky knew he wasn’t special enough to warrant that effort. He was unsure what Phra Phai was thinking.
“How don’t you know?” Rain asked.
“Don’t know means don’t know. I’m getting drinks. Want anything?” Sky said.
“Red soda, I need sugar,” Rain said, letting it go. Looking haggard, he wasn’t in the mood to pry, slumping back onto his book.
Sky thought about it while getting two drinks. He wouldn’t have noticed someone behind him without a voice. “Sky,” it said.
“Hey, Apple,” he greeted, seeing the beautiful young woman from his major looking troubled.
“Something up?” he asked.
“Can we talk?” she said. Sky raised an eyebrow but nodded, following her to a corner of the building.
Though he and Apple were in the same major and faculty club, they hadn’t talked much lately. She usually relayed messages through Chik. Sky understood why, like Phîi Som, her brother. Apple had a crush on Phîi Payu, while Rain chased her. When she learned Payu was with Rain—or rather, Rain was claimed—she distanced herself, even avoiding Rain lately.
“What’s up?” Sky asked.
Apple looked uncomfortable, then blurted out, “Do you think I’m a bad person?”
“Why say that?” he asked.
“Because of Rain,” she sighed heavily, rubbing her face, unable to hold back.
“I know I’m not great. When I saw Phîi Payu with Rain, I got petty and stopped talking to him. I know you and Rain aren’t wrong, but do you get it? It’s like when your favorite idol gets a romantic partner—you can’t help feeling a bit bitter. But I don’t want to lose friends over my pettiness. I don’t know if Rain’s mad at me for acting like this. I’m not against Payu being with Rain—I’m jealous, not resentful. Understand?” Apple looked up, eyes red.
“I get it. Why not tell Rain yourself?” Sky asked.
Apple looked awkward, then muttered, “It’s embarrassing. Don’t tease me!” Sky laughed, understanding why she’d been sulky since the semester started.
“Think about it. I ranted about Phîi Payu to you so much, then suddenly you’re his romantic partner, and you’re so in love. I heard Payu helped Rain with Professor Wichai’s project, delivering food, helping with work, cutting models. I wanted to talk, but I was embarrassed. Ranting about him when you’re that close—who wouldn’t be? That’s why I’m telling you,” Apple said, explaining why she came to him.
“Help me make up with Rain,” she said.
“Rain’s not mad at you,” Sky said.
“But I’m too embarrassed to talk directly. Help me ease into it, act normal. I don’t want to lose a friend over jealousy,” she said. Sky laughed, nodding.
Apple looked visibly relieved at his agreement.
“Phew! That’s better. I’ll shift from Payu’s fan to cheering for them both,” she said, then added, “And you too.”
“Me?” Sky repeated. Apple’s eyes sparkled, leaning in to whisper.
“I saw you kiss the other day,” she said.
Sky froze, but Apple didn’t notice.
“So jealous! Someone delivers food, helps with work, and drops you off. Rain’s got one, now you. I want someone like that, but no time to find one,” Apple said, laughing lightly, half-joking about their major’s endless work and sleep schedule, leaving no time for romance.
“He’s not my romantic partner,” Sky said, shaking his head. But Apple misinterpreted, her face falling.
“Sky, I might’ve been petty with Rain, but it’s not because I can’t accept guys together. Believe me, I’m fine with it. You don’t have to hide it,” she said, voice trailing off. Sky finished her thought—dating a guy. But he wasn’t hiding; he was telling the truth.
“I told you, I’m just jealous,” Apple added.
“Not resentful,” Sky nodded, finishing her sentence. She smiled widely, nodding back.
“Okay, I’ll handle Rain. Don’t worry, he’s not mad. But he might be because the ice in his drink’s melted,” Sky said, glancing at the melting ice in the cups. Apple laughed.
“Don’t forget to help me,” she said, walking off. Sky’s smile faded. Not because he couldn’t help Apple—that was easy—but because of what she left hanging.
Him, Phra Phai’s romantic partner?
“We’re not like Phîi Payu and Rain,” Sky said.
When Apple said it, he thought the same. Phra Phai did more than just court him. Some couples didn’t do this much, and he didn’t want that.
That feeling was too heavy, scary.
He feared moving forward. There was only one way to stop it—make it about benefits.
“I’ll give you what you want,” Sky said to himself.
He didn’t want to fall deeper. The sooner he gave in, the sooner Phra Phai would get bored and leave.
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