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“I won’t accept it.”
“But I finished it on time, Professor,” Rain said.
Inside the professor’s office, Warain stood in front of the desk, both hands clutching the work he had completed on time. But he himself had failed to submit it by the deadline.
It was impossible for someone who left home at 8:05 AM to reach the university by 8:30 AM. Even if traffic was clear and the roads were empty, finding a parking spot and running up to the building took time. By then, the short hand of the clock was nearly pointing to nine. When he entered the classroom, the professor had already started teaching. During the break, when he tried to submit his work, the professor glared at him sternly and told him to come to the office.
Now, he stood with his head bowed, trembling with fear.
When Rain insisted he had finished on time, the professor responded, “When I assigned this work, how many days did I give you?”
“One week, Khrap,” the young man answered, his voice softer than a leaf drifting in the wind.
“And it was due before what time?”
“Eight-thirty, Khrap.”
“Exactly. That’s why I won’t accept your work.”
“But I finished it on time, Professor,” Rain persisted, trying to hold the professor’s attention, though his hope was fading. In his mind, he recited every prayer he had ever heard, pleading for the professor’s mercy. But…
“Clients don’t care whether you finished on time or did a good job if you can’t deliver by the deadline,” the professor said firmly, clearly displeased. Every year, students rushed to submit late work despite clear deadlines. And trust that every professor would stand by this principle.
“Don’t forget, your classmates had the same amount of time as you. Why could they submit on time, but you couldn’t? It shows you lack responsibility. If you can’t take responsibility for yourself, why should I give you a grade?”
Deep down, Rain hoped the professor wouldn’t deduct all his points—maybe just half, or at least glance at the work. But it was clear now… he would get no credit for this assignment.
“Professor, I know it’s my fault, but please, just this once…”
“Then go ask your seniors how many ‘just this once’ I’d have to give if I allowed it for everyone!” the professor said sternly, continuing, “Everyone has the same amount of time. It’s about how you manage it. You failed this time, so you must accept the consequences. In the real world, no client will listen to excuses about oversleeping, traffic, or a dead dog. All that matters is whether you deliver.”
The professor’s words weren’t harsh, but they hit Rain hard, leaving him stunned.
Tears welled up in his eyes.
“I…” Rain began.
“Even if you cry, I still won’t accept your work,” the professor said.
“I’m sorry, Professor,” Rain said, not wanting to show weakness, but this was the first time he’d faced something like this.
The young man’s hunched posture and trembling shoulders, as he fought back tears, softened the professor’s tone, though he remained direct.
If he couldn’t handle this, how would he survive what was to come?
“I want you to think about this,” the professor said. “If you’re already discouraged by this, how will you survive your second, third, fourth, or fifth year, let alone work in the real world? Your seniors have faced much worse. Take your work back. I won’t grade this assignment.”
At those words, Rain could only raise his hands to wai the professor respectfully, then step out of the office, his shoulders slumped, face pale, lips trembling, and eyes brimming with regret. He refused to let the tears fall, swallowing hard as he left with the work he’d poured his heart into, which the professor hadn’t even glanced at.
He knew it was his fault, but he couldn’t help feeling heartbroken.
“Hey, Rain, what did the professor say?” Sky asked anxiously, waiting outside. Though he could guess from his friend’s expression, he still hoped for good news. Rain shook his head vigorously, unable to speak.
“It’s okay, man. You’ll do better on the next one,” Sky said, trying to comfort him.
Rain knew his friend meant well, but the words didn’t reach him. He just looked at Sky with red eyes and said in a trembling voice, “I’m not going to class this afternoon.”
“Where are you going?” Sky grabbed his friend’s arm tightly. Though the afternoon was just English class, which Rain could skip once or twice since he was already good at it, his condition worried Sky. But Rain pulled his arm free.
“I need to clear my head. I can’t handle it right now.”
Sky wanted to argue, but seeing Rain’s exhausted face—sleepless, unwashed, and on the verge of tears—he nodded and gave a firm pat on the shoulder. “If you need to vent, I’m here.”
“Thanks, man. I’m going,” Rain said, forcing a smile before quickly walking away.
He didn’t know where to go… just anywhere but the university.
Everyone has felt like the world was ending at some point. Looking back, those moments often seem trivial, laughable even. But in the midst of them, no one can laugh.
In all his life, Rain had never been scolded so harshly by a professor. And now… he felt trapped in that moment.
To others, it might seem small, but to him, standing in that moment, it was overwhelming.
“How did I end up here?” Rain muttered, looking up at the familiar garage with surprise. He didn’t know how his hands and feet had brought him here. Honestly, not crashing the car on the way was a miracle.
Thud! Thud!
“Damned shit-lizard Rain! Damned shit-lizard Rain! Damned shit-lizard!” Rain banged his forehead against the steering wheel, cursing his own stupidity.
He’d finished the work on time but overslept and missed the deadline.
He didn’t want to go home, back to the university, or talk to his parents about this. Deep down, he wished he could rewind to that morning, force himself not to sleep, submit the work, and nap in class instead. But now, he wasn’t sleepy or hungry—nothing. All he wanted was to cry.
But the tears wouldn’t come. He felt numb, overwhelmed, yet they wouldn’t fall.
Knock, knock, knock.
“Phîi Payu!” Rain turned at the sound of knocking on the window, calling out the name that sprang to mind with a flicker of hope. But he flinched when he saw the man standing by the car wasn’t the familiar face he expected.
No, wait—he was familiar, but not with that thick mustache around his lips.
Rain quickly rolled down the window.
“You’re Rain, right? The guys in the garage told me,” the man said, answering Rain’s questioning look.
“Yes, I’m Rain,” he replied.
“I’m Sai-fah, Payu’s brother. The guys said this car belongs to you. Something wrong? You’ve been parked here for a while,” Sai-fah said. It was his first time seeing the kid the mechanics talked about, as Rain never came during the day. But even at first glance, Sai-fah could tell something was troubling him.
“No wonder—you two look so alike,” Rain said.
“Haha! Don’t clench your teeth to flatter me. Everyone says I look like a thug, not handsome like Payu,” Sai-fah laughed loudly, true to his name. But Rain couldn’t smile. Normally, he’d like someone with such open, honest eyes, unlike Payu’s mischievous twin.
Rain’s expression made Sai-fah’s smile fade gradually.
“Come on, let’s go inside,” Sai-fah said.
“But…” Rain hesitated.
“You came to see Payu, didn’t you?” Sai-fah’s sincere eyes left Rain speechless. In the end, he clutched his unsubmitted work and followed the man, who was as big as Payu, into the office.
“Hey! Rain’s Payu’s kid, but you’re claiming Sai-fah too?” a woman teased loudly.
Rain felt a spark of irritation but had no energy to argue. It was Sai-fah who shot her a sharp look. “Some things aren’t for joking about, Khrap.”
That silenced everyone in the office. They’d never seen the usually cheerful Sai-fah so serious.
Sai-fah didn’t lead Rain to the glass office but took him upstairs to a room. Rain could only mumble softly, “Thank you, Phîi.”
“No problem. I can tell you’re not in the mood to laugh,” Sai-fah said, unlocking Payu’s rest room, used for late nights checking racecar engines. He swung the door open and looked at the boy clutching his drawings tightly. Though he knew what they were, he didn’t comment or ask, just offered a smile.
“You can rest here for now. I’ll let Payu know you’re up here,” Sai-fah said kindly, noting Rain’s disheveled state and sleepless face.
“Thank you,” Rain said again, watching Sai-fah leave and close the door. He turned to the bed he’d slept in once before, collapsed onto it, and closed his eyes. But… he wasn’t sleepy at all.
The professor’s disappointed expression and words echoed in his mind.
He was just an irresponsible kid.
Payu had been uneasy since his twin brother called that afternoon, but he was tied up with urgent work. As soon as he finished, he got permission from his boss, jumped into his car, and sped back to the garage as fast as possible.
“Your kid looked like he was about to cry,” Sai-fah had said.
Payu might enjoy Rain’s pouty face, red eyes, or little sobs, but Sai-fah’s tone suggested this wasn’t the kind of crying he’d find endearing.
Rumble.
The sky growled, soon unleashing rain onto the earth, heightening Payu’s worry for the boy. He tried to guess what could have caused Rain to cry. They’d been fine yesterday. Payu didn’t think his teasing would hurt Rain enough to make him cry at the garage.
Besides, if it was his fault, Rain wouldn’t have come here.
Payu’s mind raced with worry. Nearly an hour later, he parked his car in the garage.
“Where is he?” Payu asked Sai-fah in a strong voice.
“Upstairs.”
Without waiting for more, Payu strode to the second floor, where he and some mechanics stayed, and opened his room’s door.
“Rain.”
The sight of the young man sitting on the bed, hugging his knees, tightened Payu’s brow. Everything about him screamed concern—rumpled clothes, uncombed hair, and a face that hadn’t slept. Payu was used to seeing this from his peers, but not Rain, who’d been fine yesterday.
When Rain saw Payu, his eyes glistened with tears. Strangely, his face was pale, but his nose was red, and his lips trembled.
“Phîi Payu,” Rain said weakly. Payu rushed forward, pulling the fragile boy into a tight embrace against his chest.
“It’s okay. I’m here,” Payu said.
Rain hadn’t expected a few simple words to break the dam holding back his tears. They streamed down both cheeks as if Payu’s voice shattered his false wall of strength. Rain’s hands clung to Payu’s embrace, pressing himself closer, abandoning all shame.
“Phîi Payu, Phîi Payu, hic! Phîi Payu!” Rain sobbed.
“Cry it out, Rain. Cry it out,” Payu whispered in his ear, making the tears fall harder. A warm hand rubbed Rain’s back soothingly, encouraging him to bury his face in Payu’s chest, sobbing until his body shook. He knew he’d found someone he could cry in front of.
Sky might be his best friend, but Rain didn’t want him to see this weakness.
His parents were the first he’d think of, but he didn’t want them to worry.
Payu, though—whoever he was—had drawn Rain straight to him, and now he was crying helplessly in his arms.
“Wahhh, Phîi Payu,” Rain kept calling out. His sobs, held back since morning, echoed through the room.
“Are you feeling better?” Payu asked.
“Sniff,” Rain replied.
If Rain had looked rough before, now he was worse—face streaked with tears and snot, smearing across one cheek as he wiped it with his hand. Payu grabbed tissues to clean his face.
“I can do it myself,” Rain said.
“Stay still. If your snot gets on my shirt, I’ll toss you out in the rain,” Payu teased, but Rain froze, letting Payu wipe his face and blow his nose obediently.
When the tears stopped and Rain seemed calmer, Payu spoke again.
“So, what happened?”
Rain fell silent.
“Nothing,” he said.
“I’m not a buffalo,” Payu said bluntly, wasting no time. Rain’s eyes flicked to the work on the floor, and Payu noticed, picking it up.
“Don’t look!” Rain said.
“Got it,” Payu said, frowning. “This is the work you were doing yesterday.” Though he’d only glimpsed it unfinished, he was sure it was the same. Rain bowed his head, chin to chest, but Payu could guess.
“Did the professor scold you, or did you miss the deadline?” Payu, a graduate of the same faculty, had seen countless students cry over harsh criticism. Some fell into depression; others avoided piling work until deadlines passed. Fifth year was hell—finalizing thesis topics, completing them, barely graduating. But Rain was only in his first year, the easiest, just building foundations before real design work. Why was he crying so much?
Under Payu’s intense gaze, Rain reluctantly recounted everything—working until 5 AM, missing his friend’s wake-up call, failing to submit, and every word the professor said, etched into his mind. As he spoke, his eyes reddened, though he didn’t cry again.
“Okay, I get it,” Payu said after a long silence, once Rain finished.
But anyone expecting Payu to console him was mistaken.
“I’m not going to coddle you, Rain. Everything the professor said was right,” Payu said.
“I…” Rain looked up but couldn’t respond under Payu’s stern gaze.
“I know I messed up,” Rain said.
“Good. Then accept it and move on quickly,” Payu said, meeting Rain’s eyes with no hint of joking. He continued, “I won’t repeat the professor’s words; that’s done. But if you’re serious about this faculty, you need to handle the pressure and criticism. Right now, you’re dealing with a professor who’s still lenient. When you graduate, those words will seem like nothing compared to clients’ pressure. You might think he’s heartless, but it’s armor to make you stronger later.” Payu hadn’t expected to teach this lesson so soon.
Most students broke down in their second or third year.
“I know,” Rain said.
“Knowing isn’t enough. You need to understand,” Payu said.
Rain couldn’t argue, only bowing his head in reflection.
“Rain, I get how you feel. Even I get chewed out by clients daily,” Payu said.
“You? Phîi Payu, who everyone admires?” Rain asked, disbelieving.
Payu raised an eyebrow, shook his head, and gently flicked Rain’s forehead.
“That Phîi Payu sitting right here,” he said.
“You’re not just saying that to make me feel better, are you?” Rain asked.
Payu pushed Rain’s head hard, making him faceplant into a pillow.
“That hurts, Phîi Payu!” Rain protested.
“I’m done talking to dim-wits,” Payu said.
Rain met his eyes. “Yeah, dim-wit and irresponsible,” he said, accepting the truth without the earlier sadness. Payu walked to grab more tissues.
“But it’s my own doing,” Rain added.
“That’s the right mindset,” Payu said, grabbing a shirt and pants from his wardrobe and handing them to Rain. “Go shower. You look like a drowned puppy.”
Rain quickly covered his face, realizing he hadn’t bathed since last night or brushed his teeth. He moved to cover his mouth, prompting Payu to say bluntly, “No need to cover up. I’m not kissing someone with a snotty face.”
“Who said I wanted you to kiss me?” Rain retorted, cheeks flushing slightly.
“Go shower. I’ll have someone get food,” Payu said.
Rain stood obediently but glanced at the unsubmitted work with lingering regret. He felt better but still worried about the impact on his grades and whether the professor would see him as irresponsible.
Snap!
Suddenly, Payu’s warm hand covered Rain’s eyes, pulling his head to rest against a broad shoulder. A deep voice whispered, “Let what’s passed go. Don’t dwell on it. Do better on the next one, got it?”
Rain didn’t know if it was the warm embrace or Payu’s gentle tone—despite claiming he wouldn’t console—that made him nod slowly, leaning into Payu, trembling slightly as he felt something brush his temple.
The fear began to fade.
“Will the professor hate me, Phîi?” Rain asked.
“No. Tons of students miss deadlines,” Payu said, loosening the embrace. Rain looked up, seeking reassurance.
Payu’s smile was gentle, but his next words weren’t. “Go shower. You stink.”
Smack!
“Phîi Payu!!!” Rain shouted, punching Payu’s shoulder and clutching his head. His confidence plummeted, but when Payu stepped closer, Rain grabbed the clothes and zoomed into the bathroom.
No way he’d let Payu catch him, but even without trying, he couldn’t escape.
Rain felt lighter than when he’d left the university, like a different person.
He showered and washed his hair quickly. Dressed in Payu’s oversized clothes, he stepped out, toweling his wet hair, and froze. A Japanese table was set up in the room, holding a plate of pork fried rice, steam rising, and a glass of water. Payu had changed into casual clothes from his work attire.
“Can you eat?” Payu asked.
Rain’s stomach growled in response, making Payu, lounging on the bed, laugh. He stood and patted the spot by the table.
“Then eat,” Payu said. Rain didn’t argue. Feeling better, he was starving. He sat, leaning against the bed, pulling the table closer.
“Hey! Phîi Payu!” Rain yelped, startled, as Payu practically swung his legs over Rain’s head to sit on the bed, straddling him from behind.
“Eat. I’ll dry your hair,” Payu said casually, taking the towel to pat Rain’s head dry. Rain recalled the first time he’d been in this room.
If someone had asked then if he’d return, he’d have shouted no way. But now, not only was he not resisting, he leaned back against Payu’s legs, trusting this embrace, eating comfortably.
“Heh,” Payu chuckled.
“What’s so funny?” Rain asked, mouth full of rice.
“Thinking about the kid who rolled off the bed,” Payu said.
“Gulp! That was your fault!” Rain nearly choked, swallowing barely chewed rice to protest, glaring at Payu. Payu leaned down, his lips curling into a familiar mischievous smile, his hand sliding to…
“Phîi Payu!” Rain jumped when Payu’s fingers brushed his nipple through the shirt, sending a shiver through him.
“Just jogging your memory,” Payu teased.
“No, Phîi Payu, stop! I’m eating! Haha! Don’t grab my waist! Haha! Not my… not my chest either! You psycho! Stop! Haha!” Rain squirmed as Payu’s hands accidentally hit his ticklish waist. He pushed the table away to avoid knocking over the plate, trying to defend himself, but he never stood a chance.
“Huff! Stop, Phîi, stop! Haha! I can’t…” Rain collapsed onto the floor, his tank top riding up to reveal pale skin. His face flushed, eyes teary—not from crying, but from laughing too hard. He panted heavily.
The sight was… tempting, making Payu pause.
“Phîi Payu, no more. I’m tired,” Rain pleaded.
Payu’s eyes locked onto Rain’s exposed skin. Rain let himself be pulled onto the bed, sprawling exhaustedly, uncaring that his loose clothes revealed more than intended, the oversized tank top showing a faint nipple.
“Phîi Payu, pull me up,” Rain whined, reaching out. But…
“Phîi!” Payu moved, straddling Rain, making his eyes widen.
“W-what are you doing?” Rain asked softly, hands pressing against Payu’s chest. Those sharp eyes stirred something sweet and thrilling between them—something Rain shouldn’t feel.
Pat, pat.
The rain outside, once depressing, now fueled that feeling, intensifying it.
Payu leaned closer, and Rain could only close his eyes, turning his face away.
Rain didn’t know why, but he had no strength to resist.
Warm breath grazed his ear, sending a shiver through him as waves of desire silently crashed in.
“Rain,” Payu whispered.
“Mmm,” Rain answered in his throat, eyes still shut.
“It’s better if you don’t come back here,” Payu said, shattering everything, making Rain’s heart sink.
What did Phîi Payu mean?
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