Content Warning: This work is intended for mature (NC17) audiences. If you are younger, please kindly leave this site.
~~~
How’s your condition today?
If you’re not better, call me, khrap.
I’m worried about you, khrap.
Naphon stood staring at his phone screen, unsure whether to laugh or snap.
The sender was none other than the big, dark Phîi he was sure he’d blocked.
Sky had planned to wake up for morning class, but a pounding headache and aching body made him collapse back into bed. By nearly 1 PM, the sick youth rose, refreshed, ready for the last cheer event that evening, stretching into tomorrow morning. He swore to himself he wouldn’t be like this next year.
Pushing work onto others wasn’t his style.
Though the faculty club had plenty of members, and friends were ready to help, Sky couldn’t shake the guilt. He vowed next year would be different—no more collapsing.
He only saw the messages when he went to call a close friend.
“How does my phone unlock itself? You already got your reward,” Sky muttered, shaking his head tiredly at the screen. His phone didn’t glitch to unblock a number and Line by itself. Someone likely tampered with it while he was sick. Sky was certain even if Rain sold him out, he wouldn’t share the unlock code.
Someone probably used his finger to unlock it.
Sky debated whether to be angry about someone accessing his phone. The contact name, once “Psycho,” now read “Handsome Phîi Rahu,” making him wonder if he should laugh.
Yeah, someone’s proud to admit they’re dark.
Before deciding, his phone rang, and he quickly answered.
“Hello?”
[“Sky, you awake? I’m downstairs,”] Rain said.
“Okay, I’m coming,” Sky replied, grabbing his stuff, locking the room, and heading to Rain’s waiting car.
“You didn’t have to pick me up. The uni’s close; I could’ve gone myself,” Sky said, settling into the cool, air-conditioned car.
“No way. With this blazing sun, what if you faint? I’m glad I came,” Rain said, grinning warmly, prompting Sky to retort.
“If you’re so worried, why’d you let someone else watch over me?”
There it was. Hitting the mark, Rain’s smile faded, replaced by guilt, shaking his head.
“I’m kidding. I know you didn’t want to leave me with someone else,” Sky said. He knew Rain was swamped with assignments, barely sleeping. It was enough that Rain found someone to care for him, even if it was someone Sky wanted to avoid. Still, he couldn’t deny they took good care of him.
“Did Phîi Phai do anything to you? I can have Payu deal with him,” Rain said.
Sky wondered if anyone could handle a slippery eel like Phîi Rahu.
“No need. As you see, I’m fine,” Sky said. He wasn’t worried about Phîi Phai. Nothing really happened—just wiping him down, feeding him, helping him to the bathroom…
“You sure? Your face is still red,” Rain said.
“I was sick for three days, Rain. It’s a miracle I’m this good. Listen to my voice,” Sky said. Rain flinched, touching Sky’s cheek, sure it wasn’t embarrassment but shame. Sky just realized wiping him down meant undressing. Am I sure I’m safe?
No way. Taking advantage of a sick guy is too low, and Phîi Phai doesn’t seem that bad.
Sky frowned, catching himself defending the guy.
“You going back early tonight?” Rain asked.
“No,” Sky said firmly.
“If the freshmen can stay all night, so can I,” he said. They’d survived last year’s final cheer, knowing how tough it was—hot, exhausting, sleepy, grueling. But joining the club, working with seniors, Sky learned their fatigue paled compared to the seniors’ efforts: planning, meetings, consulting professors, crafting concepts, summarizing results since the semester break. If other seniors could stay, Sky, now a senior himself, had to as well.
That was their faculty’s bond.
If the freshmen struggled, seniors did too. Sky wouldn’t use his recovery as an excuse to slack. He was eager to uphold the tradition seniors passed down and make it memorable for the next batch.
He couldn’t do it alone, but he had friends and seniors who felt the same.
“I knew you wouldn’t miss it,” Rain said, understanding him well, stopping his objections there.
“Good thing you got sick earlier. If you collapsed today, you’d be gutted. You worked on this from the start but wouldn’t see the results,” Rain said. Sky was disappointed, sure, but he wouldn’t cry. He hadn’t cried in ages. Maybe he’d tear up tomorrow if he saw the freshmen cry.
“Probably,” Sky agreed.
Maybe he recovered faster thanks to a good nurse.
Sky leaned against the car window, letting Rain ramble about recent events—friends worried sick (but too busy to visit), seniors asking after him, Line group chats full of concern, missed calls piling up. Rain had informed everyone for him.
Lost in thought, Sky glanced at his phone, reading messages he’d ignored for a month—Phîi Phai’s texts, from before the block to now.
Sky wasn’t softening. He didn’t reply to Phîi Phai’s requests, just read them all as a courtesy.
Acknowledging but not accepting, fearing disappointment.
“Why’re you smiling?” Rain asked.
“Nothing,” Sky said, touching his lips.
…Yay, Nong Sky read them!!!!
Someone must be jobless, staring at their phone, because a new message popped up, making Sky’s lips curve higher.
Don’t reply, fine. Just reading makes me happy…
Sky locked his phone, shoving it into his pocket, ignoring its buzzing. His heart, unsteady, trembled with fear.
Must be the medicine’s effect.
“Where’s the break-time snack for the freshmen?” Sky asked.
“Ask Jai. He’s in charge,” Rain replied.
“Someone get water for the freshmen!” another shouted.
“Hey! A freshman fainted. Anyone got smelling salts?” someone called.
“Get her out here!” another ordered.
As the night sky draped over, lively drumbeats echoed from the cheer room. Freshmen had just endured the stressful faculty song, while outside was just as chaotic. Despite thorough preparations, issues kept arising, people running in and out. Sky should’ve been among them, but…
“Need any help?” Sky asked a friend.
“Sick guy, sit still!” his friend snapped, pointing at the chair. “Last time you collapsed, we freaked out. You’re pale and gaunt. No one’s using a sick guy.”
Sky asked several friends, all saying the same: don’t do anything. Even Rain was helping seniors, while Sky, who should be busy, sat idle, feeling guilty.
“Phîi Run, need help?” Sky asked a third-year senior, a key cheer organizer.
The young woman checked his forehead. “Still warm.”
“I’m fine, Phîi. Sitting still will make me sicker,” Sky said.
“Haha! I’d use you, but look—your friends are glaring at me. If I put you to work, they won’t care I’m a senior,” Run said, tapping Sky’s head with a song sheet.
“Go sit with the second-years in the room. If you can’t do what you usually do, cheer the freshmen on,” she added.
“Wish I wasn’t sick,” Sky muttered.
“But being sick got you a caretaker,” Run teased.
“Huh?” Sky looked up, eyes narrowing. Found the culprit—Rain sold me out again?
Seeing his wide eyes, the young woman laughed, leaning to whisper, “Don’t you know my romantic partner lives in your dorm?”
Okay, new culprit: Phîi Joy.
“Just an acquaintance,” Sky clarified.
“I didn’t say he’s your romantic partner,” Run replied.
“I’ll go sit with the others in the room,” Sky said.
Normally, Sky wouldn’t flinch, laughing off seniors’ teasing. But this time, he went quiet, giving up on helping here, heading to the cheer room instead. He didn’t know why Phîi Phai got him flustered—maybe the lingering warmth from being cared for over two days.
This isn’t good. got to cut it off!
Past 1 AM, the cheer room kept going. Though some freshmen nodded off, no seniors scolded them, only understanding their exhaustion. No one judged those leaving early—it didn’t make them less of an architecture student. Everyone had reasons, and seniors understood, doing their best for those who stayed.
But as it grew later, concern grew too.
“Why’s it raining tonight?” Sky muttered, uneasy, breathing fresh air outside, not worried for himself.
“Hello, Phîi, khrap,” a group of four female freshmen greeted.
“Hello, khrap. You all heading back?” Sky returned their wai, his face uneasy, making them look nervous, nodding hesitantly.
“Can you get back okay? The rain’s not stopping. You might get sick,” Sky said, concerned for them braving the rain past 1 a.m., all women. He didn’t judge their choice to leave early, but they exchanged glances.
“We’re fine. We have an umbrella,” one said.
One umbrella wouldn’t shield four from the rain.
“Wait here. I’ll grab more umbrellas,” Sky said, spotting a friend with an umbrella heading to another building. Smiling at the freshmen, he told them to stay put and prepared to run through the rain.
“Sky, you shit-lizard!!!” Rain’s shout nearly made Sky stumble, his friend sprinting from another direction.
“What the hell are you doing?” Rain yelled.
“You’re the one yelling ‘shit-lizard.’ You scared the freshmen. I’m getting umbrellas for them,” Sky replied. Rain bared his teeth.
“Are you crazy? You just got IV fluids at the hospital. Run through the rain, stay all night, and you’ll drop dead. Freshmen, you’re heading to the uni entrance, right? I’ll drive you there. It’s late—your way home’s safe, right?” Rain scolded Sky, then turned to the freshmen with concern.
“That’s why I’m getting umbrellas. If they get wet on the way back, even if you drop them off, they’ll get sick,” Sky said. Rain nodded vigorously but pointed at him.
“I’ll get them. You stay here. You’re sick and still acting tough,” Rain said, running through the rain to the other building. The freshmen looked at each other, then at Sky.
“Are you sick, Phîi?” one asked.
“A little, khrap,” Sky said, voice hoarse. A bolder freshman asked, “Why don’t you rest, then?”
Sky smiled widely, saying sincerely, “If you freshmen can stay, why can’t I, khrap?”
“Hey, Sky, Phîi Run’s looking for you. She can’t find the baisri shop’s number. Got it?” another friend shouted. Sky didn’t notice the freshmen’s expressions, entrusting them to wait for Rain, and hurried to find the senior.
“How’re you freshmen getting back?” Rain asked.
After Sky left, his friend asked the freshmen with equal concern. They exchanged glances, and one spoke up.
“I think we’ve changed our minds, Phîi,” she said.
If seniors did this for them, why shouldn’t they accept their kindness?
“Damn it, where’d this rain come from?” Sky muttered, worried for the freshmen leaving early.
On another side of Bangkok, a street race was abruptly canceled as wind brought rain, soaking the ground. Even if it stopped soon, no one wanted to race on a slippery track.
Phra Phai grumbled, annoyed. The forecast said clear skies all day.
Nearby, Payu, a ruggedly handsome guy with a loose ponytail, directed his crew to load a tuned superbike onto a truck.
This wasn’t a typical street race but an exclusive event with roads closed at night for members to test their speed. Only the elite could enter, and many luxury supercars left, thoroughly annoyed.
“Good. I’m in a hurry,” Payu said, shrugging.
“Got a date with your romantic partner?” Phra Phai asked.
Payu smirked, hawk-like eyes gleaming. “Your face says you know the answer.”
Phra Phai laughed, thinking of his friend’s romantic partner.
Phra Phai had watched his phone all day, keeping himself free after taking leave from his Phô. No calls came, just old hookups he brushed off. The one he waited for read his messages but didn’t reply, leaving him unsure whether to give up or laugh.
More like worried.
Will tonight bring nightmares?
His unusually serious expression prompted Payu to ask, “Coming with me?”
“Where?” Phra Phai turned, then feigned wide eyes. “Thanks for the invite, but I’m not into threesomes.”
Payu’s eyes glared, and Phra Phai raised his hands to shoulder level. “Kidding! Where you going?”
“To…”
“Phîi Payu, Phîi Phai, hello, khrap,” a voice interrupted.
They turned to see two familiar faces, long absent.
“Hey! Phet, Gun, been a while,” Phra Phai said. The two were event regulars, and he sensed their respect.
“I lose every race, unlike you, Phîi Phai. You always win,” Phet said eagerly, eyes sparkling, glancing at Gun.
“You crushed Gun’s confidence last time. He lost big, got sulky, so we haven’t shown up much,” Phet added.
“Hey! I didn’t!” Gun protested.
Phra Phai laughed, unbothered by their behind-the-back complaints. In the race, he won or lost; outside, they were brothers.
“So, you’re retiring today?” he asked. Gun shook his head quickly.
“No, Phîi Phai. Just haven’t come in a while, so we dropped by. Not racing you again,” Gun said.
“Too bad about the rain. See you next time, Phîi Payu, Phîi Phai. We’re off,” Phet said, bidding farewell. They drove off in a European car. Alone again, the skilled racer faced the mechanic, an architect by day, superbike tuner by night, resuming the interrupted question.
“I’m going to the uni,” Payu said simply.
“Now?” Phra Phai checked his watch—almost 2 AM.
“My faculty’s got last cheer tonight. Goes till morning. Missed it last year, so I’m tying wrists for the freshmen,” Payu said, face blank but eyes sparkling. Phra Phai squinted.
“More like tying your romantic partner’s wrist,” he teased. Word was Rain was Payu’s direct junior. Payu graduated when Rain entered, missing last year’s chance to tie his romantic partner’s wrist. Payu’s sly eyes gave it away.
“You coming?” Payu asked.
“Yes!” Phra Phai replied instantly. He didn’t know if outsiders were allowed, but his boldness meant no one could shoo him away.
Seeing Nong Sky on this unexpected night was pure luck.
Hours from dawn, not just freshmen dozed off singing; many seniors nodded, watching the skies. No one noticed the supposedly recovered sick youth curled in a dark corner, arms crossed, face calm but cheeks flushed, sweat beading on his forehead, groggy from a returning fever.
Need medicine, his mind whispered.
His body refused to move beyond shifting positions, screaming for rest.
He could ask a friend for medicine but didn’t want to worry them. He’d rest a bit, then find some himself. Just a few hours left—final shout, introducing wákers, emotional moments, wrist-tying, apologies, and the baisri ceremony. His mind saw it all, but his body protested it couldn’t last.
“Pushing yourself again, khrap?” a voice said.
Amid the fever’s attack, Sky blinked groggily, seeing a familiar figure sit beside him, touching his forehead without permission. His eyes widened.
“Phîi Phai,” Sky said.
“Glad you said my name today,” Phra Phai teased, but his beautiful eyes showed genuine concern, not playful.
“Taken your medicine?” he asked.
Sky didn’t tell his friends but shook his head at his makeshift nurse.
“I’ll get you some,” Phra Phai said.
“Don’t tell my friends,” Sky said. If they knew, they’d force him to leave. Phra Phai’s face turned serious but nodded.
“Wait here,” he said, heading off.
Sky watched his back, then scanned around, realizing Phîi Phai came with Rain and Payu.
The event wasn’t closed to outsiders; alumni came yearly. Phîi Phai likely tagged along with Payu. Sky leaned against the wall, relieved Rain was too busy with his romantic partner to fuss over his illness. Eyes followed them, seniors and freshmen alike.
“Take your medicine,” Phra Phai said, returning.
Sky felt curious gazes on Phra Phai, but those brown eyes scanned his face, checking his condition, handing over medicine and water. Sky swallowed both without protest.
“You okay?” Phra Phai asked.
“Okay or not, I’m staying till the end,” Sky preempted. Phra Phai frowned, then smiled.
“Got it, my romantic partner. Perfect, sir,” he teased. Sky frowned at “romantic partner.”
“Don’t pout. I’m joking. Don’t frown—you’ll get a headache. Come, it’s hours till it ends. Lean on me,” Phra Phai said, pulling Sky’s head to his shoulder. Sky resisted—this wasn’t Phra Phai’s condo or his dorm. How could he lean on him among so many people? Does he have a brain?
“Or I’ll take you back to your dorm,” Phra Phai threatened.
Sky nearly snapped, What right do you have? But a large, thick hand forced his head to the shoulder. He complied, mainly because of the serious voice that followed.
“Don’t make me worry so much,” Phra Phai said.
Sky should’ve resisted, cut it off completely, but he grabbed the back of Phra Phai’s shirt.
“I don’t find it funny,” Sky mumbled sleepily.
“When you’re better, I’ll make you laugh,” Phra Phai said.
“Not funny,” Sky argued groggily.
“Fine, not funny. I’ll make something else real instead,” Phra Phai said.
“What?” Sky asked.
Phra Phai didn’t answer, just laughed near Sky’s ear. Sky lacked the energy to press, staying still, eyes closing, sinking into drowsiness. The large hand stroking his hair lulled him, unaware he’d grown used to this touch in just days, leaning fully on Phra Phai, heart at ease.
Sky mumbled unconsciously, “Thanks for coming to see me.”
Thanks… for taking care of me.
He didn’t know his words made the playful man gaze with such tender eyes. The initial heat at seeing the frail youth was replaced by a burning warmth in his chest. Phra Phai whispered to the sleeping Sky.
“Shall I make it real?” he said.
Make Sky my real romantic partner.
Phra Phai tightened his hold on the sick youth, unaware.
Comments
Post a Comment