The Crow Club: Over My Dead Body
Chapter 6.
The two of them were almost the same height, but Rak did everything he could to use Van as a human shield.
He hunched his shoulders, ducked his head, and buried his face against Van’s shoulder, clutching the hem of the Attack on Titan T-shirt so tightly that Van had to swat him on the head a few times. It didn’t bother Rak in the slightest.
At this moment, the thing he feared most in the world was standing somewhere in the middle of the room. He couldn’t actually see where she was. But judging by where Van was looking…
She was right there.
“I can’t believe that actually worked,” Van said excitedly. “Does recording work too? Sis is really keeping up with modern technology. That’s one adaptable old lady.”
Rak pinched him hard in the waist.
“Ow!”
Van turned around with a thoroughly bewildered expression, as if he genuinely had no idea why he’d just been punished.
“Stop messing with her,” Rak whispered through gritted teeth. “You’ll get yourself killed.”
“Messing with her? I was complimenting her!” Van argued, treating the matter with complete seriousness. “It’s a standard strategy. You flatter them first, make a good impression, build rapport… then you talk business. Got it?”
“…Talk business?”
“Just stay quiet and watch a professional work.”
Rak was seriously beginning to question his own decision. At the time, all he’d wanted was someone brave enough not to run away from ghosts. Van had happened to fit that requirement perfectly.
Now, however, Rak realised he’d focused so much on the first step that he’d completely overlooked the equally important second one.
Van wasn’t a businessman.
He wasn’t a negotiator either.
He couldn’t persuade anyone.
What he was good at…
…was provoking people, showing off, and getting under their skin.
Buddha… Dharma… Sangha…
Please don’t let anyone die tonight.
“Thanks for coming out to see us tonight, Sis. Sorry for calling you so late, but I guess this is your working hours anyway, right? Calling you at noon probably wouldn’t wake you up.”
Silence.
The room was so quiet Rak could hear his own thoughts. The tiny little version of himself inside his head frantically turned imaginary gears while crying pitifully.
Neither of them had ever imagined they’d one day end up in a situation this utterly insane.
“What did she say?” Rak whispered.
Van shrugged.
“Nothing. She’s just staring at me like her eyeballs are about to pop out. Why’s she so pissed?”
“Would you just get to the point already? Stop rambling.”
“If you’re so good at it, why don’t you come talk to her?”
Rak clicked his tongue and shoved Van’s cheek with one finger, forcing him to face forward again.
Van silently mouthed exaggerated nonsense back at him before continuing.
“Alright, Sis. Judging by your vibe, you’re not much of a chatterbox. More of an introvert, huh? Totally understandable. I’ll get straight to the point so we can settle this and all go our separate ways.”
He was still rambling.
“The guy hiding behind me knows you’re his ancestor. He’s not angry with you. Scared out of his mind? Absolutely. But he doesn’t hate you. He wants to know why you keep getting in the way of his life—”
“And the friends!” Rak hissed, half whispering, half shouting.
“Right, that too. Every time he starts getting close to someone, you scare them away. Do you know the poor guy already barely has anyone? Hardly any friends…”
Van paused dramatically.
“…Even his boyfriend dumped him.”
“You little—”
“Shhh!”
Rak was just about to swear at him when Van loudly shushed him, the sharp sound almost like hairspray hissing from a can.
Van’s expression suddenly became deadly serious. Reluctantly, Rak swallowed the insult.
He strained his ears…
Without realising it, he was holding his breath.
The excitement…And the lingering terror… Still breathed down the back of his neck.
Van stayed silent for rather a long time.
“…Van?” Rak whispered. “What is it? What’s she saying?”
“She is talking.”
“What is she saying?” Rak asked eagerly.
Maybe this was it.
Maybe this was the historic moment.
The mystery that had haunted him for so long was finally about to be solved.
Even if it was thanks to Van…
Still…
Finally.
“Van. What did she say?”
“…I can’t understand her.”
“…What?”
“I can’t understand a word.”
Van turned around with a thoroughly troubled expression. In an instant, the pounding excitement in Rak’s chest deflated like a punctured balloon. The triumphant drumroll in his head came to an abrupt stop, so much for making history.
“You’ve got to be kidding.”
“I’m serious. And I’m not exactly brave enough to go, ‘Huh?’ to a ghost.”
“You seriously can’t make out even one word? It has to sound at least a little like Northern Thai.”
“It doesn’t.”
“How can it not? They’re from the same language family.”
“I’M TELLING YOU, I DON’T UNDERSTAND HER!”
Van half-whispered, half-shouted, his raspy voice scraping against Rak’s ears.
“Then how did you two talk last time?!”
Rak fired back in the same volume.
“She spoke Central Thai!”
“Then ask her to speak Central Thai!”
Van froze for a second. It was as though the obvious solution had only just occurred to him. He nodded repeatedly before turning back toward the space in the room.
“Sorry, Sis… but could you switch languages? I genuinely couldn’t understand any of that.”
He fell silent again. Rak hoped it had worked. Perhaps Kahla was now speaking in a language Van could understand. It felt strangely frustrating. Rak was standing right here, yet he couldn’t be part of the conversation at all.
Come to think of it…
Why was he the only one who couldn’t see Kahla? Was it because he lacked some spiritual sensitivity?
Or…
Was she deliberately choosing not to let him see her?
“Alright, I get that you want to kill me,” Van said calmly. “But could you at least tell me why? Why kill me? What are you angry about? What did I do? What did Rak do? People always have reasons for what they do, right?”
He paused.
“Ghosts should have reasons too.”
Apparently, it was working.
Van was actually having a conversation now. He would ask a question, then fall silent as though listening to the answer. His eyes remained fixed on the centre of the room. Not at the offerings on the floor…But slightly above them. At eye level. As though someone were genuinely standing there.
Honestly…
It was an incredibly creepy sight.
If Rak hadn’t already believed in ghosts with every fibre of his being, he would’ve dragged Van straight to a psychiatric hospital.
“Can I ask you something, Sis?”
Van sounded perfectly serious.
He’d only just asked one question, and Rak still had no idea what the answer had been. Now he was asking another one. Which only made Rak even more desperate to know what Kahla had said.
“So… how do you become a ghost? Is it just, you die and—boom—you become one? Or is there, like… an exam?”
“Van!”
Rak shouted immediately, punching him in the shoulder. He couldn’t believe those were the questions he was asking at a time like this.
“Is that really what matters right now?!”
“It’s not every day someone gets the chance to interview a ghost!”
Van turned toward him, eyes shining with excitement.
“I still can’t believe ghosts are actually real. Aren’t you curious what ghosts really are?”
“No.”
Rak’s answer was immediate.
“I hired you to talk to the ghost so you could solve my problem.”
“Not so you could interview her.”
“I know…”
Van scratched his cheek.
“But isn’t this an amazing opportunity? I could write my master’s thesis about this.”
“Oh really?”
Rak deadpanned.
“In what department?”
“Occult Studies?”
“Sure,” Van said. “I’ll be the dean.”
A sly grin spread across his face.
“I’ll write an academic paper about it. The greatest discovery in history. Maybe they’ll even name a new theory after me—the Van Theory.”
“Van.”
Rak cut him off immediately.
“You can do whatever you want later, but you have to finish my case first. Talk about my problem!”
“Oh. Right, right.”
Van obediently accepted Rak’s request—more like an order.
He turned back to face Kahla. Before he could say anything, he suddenly jerked in surprise. Rak flinched with him, letting out a startled gasp.
“W-What?”
Rak’s voice shook.
“…She’s closer than before.”
Van answered quietly. His arms lifted slightly away from his sides, as though preparing himself without even realising it.
“Closer?”
Rak swallowed hard.
“How close?”
“…Very close.”
A chill shot through his entire body. Every instinct screamed at him to run. He wanted to bolt out of the room, pound on Talay’s door, and hide behind the kind older man. Surely Kahla wouldn’t follow him there. But if he did…
He’d be breaking his promise to Van.
When they’d planned this ritual, Rak had promised he’d stay from the moment they started preparing everything until Kahla finally left. But he was terrified. He’d always been a coward. He couldn’t even see her. He couldn’t hear her voice. And yet he was already so frightened he felt like he might wet himself.
If one day Kahla actually appeared before his eyes…He was certain he’d die of a heart attack.
“What do you want from Rak?”
Van’s voice grew firm.
“Just tell him directly. He’ll do it, and we can put an end to all this.”
“Stop haunting him like this.”
“Aren’t you the adult here?”
“How can you bully a kid like this?”
“Aren’t you ashamed?”
Van’s choice of words wasn’t exactly the mature, diplomatic negotiation they’d agreed on beforehand. But the determination in his voice— A seriousness Rak rarely heard from him—Made hope begin to bloom.
Van wasn’t being particularly respectful. He certainly wasn’t acting like the composed adult Rak had imagined. But… Everything he was saying made sense.
And unless Kahla was completely unreasonable… Surely she’d listen.
“…What do you mean it has nothing to do with Rak?”
Van frowned.
“Think about what you’re saying.”
“You’ve interfered with every single person in his life until he can’t live in peace anymore.”
“And now you’re telling me it isn’t his business?”
“Shouldn’t Rak be the one saying that?”
“That it isn’t your business?”
“Why are you so obsessed with him?”
“He’s just a kid.”
His tone was unwavering. At the same time…It sounded almost irritated. His brows knitted together as he repeated—
“He’s just a kid.”
Rak thought Van was right. He’d simply… Never thought of himself that way. He always felt as though he carried the entire world on his shoulders…
While being crushed beneath its weight. He believed there were things he absolutely had to accomplish. Things he had to change. Responsibilities only he could bear. He believed one mistake— No matter how small—
Could ruin the rest of his life beyond repair. He believed the whole world would crumble into dust if the future he’d imagined failed to come true.
It felt…
Surprisingly comforting…
For someone, just once, to look at him and see nothing more than a kid. Even if he himself could never see it.
“Oh?” Van let out a mocking laugh. “So you’re saying you understand best…and Rak doesn’t understand his own life?”
A smug smile tugged at his lips. Rak didn’t think that was a good idea. He was afraid. Afraid Van was making Kahla angrier.
“What kind of person thinks they understand someone else’s life better than the person living it?”
Rak’s heart pounded. He was terrified she was going to do it again.
“…Isn’t that just arrogance?”
He wanted to reach out and cover Van’s mouth. But he was too late. Now forget covering his mouth. Rak couldn’t even touch him anymore. His hand, which had been gripping the hem of Van’s shirt only moments earlier, slipped away in utter shock. Because suddenly…Van’s body moved in a way that should have been impossible.
“…Van…”
He was…Floating. Van slowly rose into the air.
His feet left the floor. His body went completely rigid. Not even the tip of a finger moved. He didn’t kick. He didn’t scream. He did nothing. He looked like a mannequin being lifted by invisible wires. Except…There were no wires. No machinery. Nothing that could be holding him up. Nothing… Except the one thing Rak couldn’t see.
Kahla.
“Kahla… what are you doing?”
Rak’s voice trembled. He looked up at Van’s body suspended above him, his entire body shaking so violently that his legs nearly gave out.
“Please…”
“Don’t hurt him…”
He reached out, trying desperately to grab Van. He couldn’t. His knees finally buckled, and he collapsed onto the floor.
Useless.
He didn’t even have the strength—or the presence of mind—to run for help. All he could do was shake and fight back tears.
Bang!
Without warning, Van’s body shot through the air. He was hurled toward the opposite wall, coming within inches of smashing into it before being violently flung back in Rak’s direction. But he didn’t stop in front of Rak.
He flew right over Rak’s head.
Crash!
His back slammed into the bedroom door with a deafening thud. Then his body dropped limply to the floor like a bird shot from the sky.
At that exact moment… The candles that had gone out suddenly burst back to life.
Kahla……was gone.
The next morning Rak woke before Van. He folded up the futon, put it away in the
cupboard, then grabbed his towel and university uniform before heading into the bathroom.
He didn’t spend long showering—about as much time as any other guy. Usually, whenever Rak woke first, Van would already be awake by the time he came back out.
It was almost as if the sound of running water hitting the bathroom tiles served as Van’s personal alarm clock. But today Van was still fast asleep. Rak walked over to the bed and crouched beside it until his eyes were level with Van’s face.
Van was lying on his side, facing outward. There was no expression on his face, but Rak could still see the traces of exhaustion. He tried not to think about why Van had slept in the same position all night.
“…Van.”
Rak called softly. No response. He tried again, a little louder.
“Van.”
Nothing. Not even the slightest twitch crossed Van’s face. The stillness made Rak’s heart plummet.
He quickly held a finger beneath Van’s nose, only for a second. He was too impatient. Instead, he leaned down and pressed his ear against Van’s chest, wanting to hear his heartbeat with his own ears.
“…What stage is this now?”
A hoarse voice suddenly spoke above him.
“If you listen to my heartbeat…you’re still not going to hear your own name.”
That single sentence was enough to send Rak’s heart back where it belonged. He jerked upright and stared at Van with obvious relief. But his worry hadn’t disappeared. It was written plainly across his face— Plain enough that even Van, still only half awake, noticed.
“What’s wrong now?”
Van slowly inhaled before letting out a long breath. Without changing position, he lazily rubbed his eyes.
Unlike every other morning, he didn’t roll over or stretch to chase away sleep.
“Your ex trying to get back together with you again?”
“No,” Rak answered quietly.
“How are you feeling?”
“Sleepy.”
“Do you have a headache?”
“No.” Van yawned.
“Dizzy?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Are you numb anywhere? Do you feel sick? Like you’re going to throw up?”
“…Who are you?” Van blinked.
“The sexy nurse making her rounds?”
“Van.” Rak’s tone turned firm.
There wasn’t the slightest hint that he was joking. Van immediately lost the mood to tease him. He let out a tired sigh despite having only just woken up.
“Why do you always say it like that?”
“‘Van’…” He imitated Rak’s serious voice.
“‘Van… Van…’”
He exaggerated the gloomy tone before switching to an absurdly cheerful one.
“Can’t I get a bright, happy ‘Gooood morning, Vaaaan!’ just once?”
The first “Van” was bright and cheerful. The next two sounded completely lifeless— Like a student being summoned to the disciplinary office.
“When I’m being serious, why do you always joke around?”
“And what are you so serious about?” Van asked lightly.
Rak didn’t answer. He stared at him. The silence lasted long enough for Van to change his response quietly.
“…Alright, alright.”
“I’m not going to die.”
“So stop worrying.”
“Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Yeah.”
Van answered casually as he slowly pushed himself upright. He looked almost perfectly normal.
Almost.
If not for the way he unconsciously frowned when his hand reached behind his head.
“Your head hurts, doesn’t it?” Rak asked.
At this point, he sounded more like Van’s mother than his roommate.
“You slept on your side all night. " The back of your head hurts, doesn’t it?”
“How do you know I slept like that all night?”
Van raised an eyebrow.
“Were you watching me?”
“Yes.”
Rak answered so quickly that Van was momentarily speechless. He’d been trying to ease the tension. Rak, meanwhile, refused to let up.
“…Why were you watching me?”
“Because I was scared you’d go to sleep…and never wake up again.”
Van awkwardly scratched his head. His eyes darted around the room, clearly unsure how to respond. Pretending not to notice wasn’t working. Teasing Rak wasn’t working either. Rak looked genuinely upset.
Upset enough that Van started wondering if he’d actually done something wrong.
“I’m not going to die,” Van said quietly.
“You didn’t see what happened last night.”
“No.”
Van gently rubbed the back of his head again.
“But I definitely felt it.”
It still hurt. If he pressed any harder, he was pretty sure he’d cry.
“It reminds me of when I was a kid and fell off the monkey bars.“I almost met my ancestors.”
“I’m cancelling the job today.”
Van froze.
He looked up at Rak in confusion.
“…Cancelling it?”
“We haven’t even finished talking to her.”
“We don’t need to.”
“It isn’t going to work.”
“But we finally managed to get her to appear.”
“And what did that accomplish?”
“Why are you in such a hurry…?”
“So we should wait until someone dies before we stop?”
Van stared at Rak as though he’d just said the most ridiculous thing imaginable. Rak, however, didn’t flinch. His face remained expressionless. His voice was calm. That alone told Van everything.
Rak hadn’t come up with this idea on a whim.
He’d spent the entire night thinking about it.
“It isn’t that serious.” Van’s tone turned unusually sincere. “I’m completely fine.”
“That’s exactly why I’m asking,” Rak replied.
“Do we have to wait until something does happen before we admit we should stop?”
“What are you talking about?”
“I’m fine.”
“I can’t take responsibility for something like this, Van.” Rak stood abruptly. His voice began to shake.
“Like you said last night…”
“I’m just a kid.”
“I can’t carry something this big.”
“And who said you had to?”
Van frowned. “I’m just doing my job. Your only job is paying me.”
“And what if something happens to you because of this job?”
Rak asked quietly.
“That’s my problem. I made that choice.”
Van’s voice rose. He was becoming increasingly irritated by what felt like Rak’s excessive worrying.
“I just want to do my job.”
“Then find another one.”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know. Anything. Something that doesn’t make me feel this guilty. It’s too much. I can’t handle it.”
“People with money make it sound so easy.”
The look in Van’s eyes kept changing.
Confusion.
Irritation.
Anger.
And finally…
Bitterness.
“‘Just quit this job and find another one.’ You say that like it’s easy. Do you have any idea how many jobs that pay this kind of money come along in a month? How many more jobs do you think I’d have to take? How many more years would it take before I could finally leave this place?”
For a brief moment…
Rak saw Talay’s eyes overlapping with Van’s. He heard Talay’s voice beneath Van’s— The words he’d once said about how happy he was to live with people like himself.
Back then, Rak hadn’t understood what Talay and Van had in common. Now he was beginning to.
“You have plenty of choices,” Rak said quietly. But he couldn’t meet Van’s eyes.
“You’re talented. You could succeed anywhere.”
“Oh?” Van let out a cold laugh. “So now you’re making decisions for me too?”
Sarcasm came naturally to him. He used it almost constantly. But this was the first time…
His words actually hurt Rak.
“We’ve barely known each other…and you already think you understand everything about me? You’ve already planned my whole life for me?”
“Then why are you dumping all of this on me?”
Rak shot back.
“You made your own decisions. You have your own brain. You’re an adult. You could find another job if you wanted to. But you chose this. So how is it my fault things aren’t going the way you hoped? Stop acting like you don’t have a choice because you do. You don’t want it.”
“What the hell do you know about my life?!”
Van had been speaking loudly all along.
This was the first time Rak had ever heard him truly shout.
“Don’t act like you know everything because you don’t know a damn thing. Someone like you…Someone who has everything and still wastes it…What could you possibly understand? You’ve never fought for anything in your life. The moment something goes wrong, you run away. The second things get hard, you give up. You complain about everything. You surrender before you’ve even tried. You’d even let people walk all over you if they wanted. So where do you get the nerve to look down on my choices? If there really were a better path…why the hell would I still be here? Not everyone enjoys feeling sorry for themselves and begging for attention all the time, as you do. You and your ghost…you’re the same, I’m telling you.”
Silence.
Absolute silence.
So quiet…
Van could hear his own breathing.
So quiet…
It felt like everyone else in the house had frozen, afraid to make a sound in case they interrupted the war raging inside this room. So quiet. He could hear someone’s breathing becoming uneven. Rak’s. He was crying.
Van felt as though his mouth had been sealed shut with layers of drying cement. There were so many things he wanted to say. So many excuses. So many apologies. He hadn’t meant to throw those cruel words at Rak. But nothing came out. He could only sit there on the bed. His head throbbing… Unable to speak.
“Yeah, you’re amazing!” Rak shouted through his tears.
He yanked his backpack off the floor, slung it over one shoulder, and grabbed the first thing within reach.
“You’re so damn amazing, then stay the hell away from a worthless loser like me! You asshole!”
Thunk!
Something flew straight at Van’s face. It hit him square on the forehead. Before he could even react, Rak had already thrown the door open and run out.
Bang!
Only then did Van look down to see what had hit him—the framed photograph.
“He actually threw the damn picture at my face?”
Van rubbed his forehead with a groan. His face hurt. The back of his head hurt. Still clutching the framed photo—the unexpected murder weapon—he could only mutter to himself,
“…Shit.”
Rak waved so enthusiastically his arm was practically about to fall off when he spotted Namkhing stepping off the campus shuttle.
She broke into such a wide smile that her eyes disappeared.
Taking quick little steps, she ran straight toward him. She threw her arms around him in a hug so sudden that half the people in the cafeteria looked over before immediately turning back to whisper among themselves.
“I totally forgot you go to the same university as me,” Rak teased.
As he spoke, he secretly looked his friend up and down. She’d changed so much since the last time they’d met. That had probably been near the end of the previous semester, when they’d run into each other by chance at one of the bars outside campus after final exams. Every bar around the university had been packed that night.
“So…” Rak grinned.
“Do Accounting students ever get a break?”
“Rak.”
Namkhing wrinkled her nose and gave him a deliberately disdainful look.
“I’m not the busy one.”
“Your faculty’s basically a factory straight out
of hell. I feel guilty asking you to eat with me.”
“Alright, alright.”
Rak laughed and surrendered immediately. He hooked his arm through hers and led her toward the university gate.
“Well, today you got me. I can sit here eating with you for three whole hours.”
“Shabu only gives you ninety minutes.”
“Then we’ll eat two rounds.”
“I’m going to die.”
Just seeing Namkhing again—exchanging only a few sentences—made Rak feel as though he’d come home. Maybe it was because she was the only person from Lamphun he still had.
They’d attended the same high school and were in the same year, though different classes. Namkhing had studied Arts-Math. Rak had been in the Science-Math programme. The reason they’d become friends was simple.
Almost every morning, they rode the same red songthaew to school. Rak always boarded first at the beginning of the route. About ten minutes later, it would stop near the entrance to Namkhing’s street, where she’d climb aboard.
In the afternoons, they’d often wait together for the ride home. Seeing each other almost every day gradually became routine. One day, Namkhing volunteered to hold Rak’s school bag so he could hang off the back of the crowded truck and give his seat to an elderly passenger.
The same thing happened again. And again. Before they realised it, they’d started arranging to catch the same songthaew every day. It was no longer just coincidence.
Rak liked Namkhing because she never seemed to overthink anything. She was cheerful. Sincere. The kind of person who refused to let society swallow her whole. Most importantly, she had never seen Kahla. She’d never cared that the other children called him
“Rak and His Ghost.”
Namkhing was a petite girl with delicate features—a small nose. Bright eyes. She wasn’t breathtakingly beautiful, but she had an effortless charm that made people want to look at her.
She was short, with naturally wavy hair. Back in Lamphun, her skin had been pale, and her cheeks would flush pink whenever the weather turned hot. These days, though, she looked different every time they met. Sometimes her makeup leaned toward deep reds. Sometimes warm oranges. It all depended on whatever beauty trend was popular at the time.
In high school, she’d never worn makeup except during sports festivals. She used to say makeup was troublesome and only made her look older. But not long after starting university, Rak noticed she had begun enjoying fashion and cosmetics. She looked like a young woman now. Not the sort of “good girl” the elderly back home liked to praise. Her eyebrows were neatly shaped. Her lips were never pale. Just like girls online used to joke—
“If your lips aren’t red, you don’t have the energy to walk.”
It had felt like fate when they both got accepted into the same dream university. At first, Rak had hesitated over and over, wondering whether he should give up his place. But when he learned Namkhing had also passed the entrance exam…Most of his fear disappeared.
They accepted their offers together and flew to Bangkok together. They searched for accommodation together. Eventually, they found a dormitory close to campus. Separate men’s and women’s buildings. Safe. Convenient. Close enough that they imagined walking to class together every morning. So they paid their deposits on the very same day.
Reality, however, gradually rearranged their lives. Their timetables no longer matched. That was when they realised this wasn’t the high school where they’d grown up together anymore. Namkhing had morning classes. Rak’s started in the afternoon. She finished at noon. He didn’t finish until evening.
She wandered the food stalls outside campus after class. He rushed straight to meetings the moment his last lecture ended. Their clocks moved at different speeds. And before either of them noticed… They were no longer each other’s first favourite contact.
Even so…
They kept trying.
Rak reacted to her stories with little hearts. Namkhing replied to his stories to tease him—or to tell him to get some sleep whenever he posted about working through another all-nighter. They met for meals whenever they could.
During first and second year, it happened fairly often. By third year, less so. Now, in their fourth year… This was the first time they’d sat down to eat together.
“So…”
Rak asked while carefully swishing slices of Australian beef through the broth until they were perfectly tender,
“Do they actually pay you during your internship?”
“They do.”
Namkhing answered around a mouthful of beef.
“But it’s not that much.”
“Still…”
“My supervisor buys me snacks and meals all the time.”
“If you add everything up, I think I came out ahead.”
“That’s nice.”
Rak smiled.
“I’ve seen your stories. It looked like you were having a great time.”
“I only post the fun parts.”
Namkhing snorted.
“When work is chewing me up and spitting me out…”
“I’m usually sitting there crying.”
Rak blinked.
“…Seriously?”
“Every workplace has people who are completely unhinged,” Namkhing said. “Mine just happens to have more than average.”
“That sounds terrifying.” Rak shivered dramatically.
“Where are you doing your internship again?” she asked. “Next semester, right?”
“Yeah.”
“I haven’t even decided where I want to apply.”
“Go for one of the big companies,” Namkhing suggested casually. “Even if you don’t get anything else out of it, it’ll look good on your portfolio.”
She probably said it so easily because she’d already been through an internship herself. Most accounting students interned during the second semester of their third year. Rak’s faculty usually did theirs during the second semester of fourth year.
“I’ve thought about that,” Rak admitted. “But part of me just…I don’t know. A big company looks impressive on paper, but I also want to choose somewhere that actually suits me.”
“You won’t know what suits you until you’ve tried it.”
Namkhing tore a handful of leafy vegetables into the bubbling shabu pot.
“Big companies have plenty to learn. They’ve got proper training systems, mentors…They even pay you. Not a fortune, but it’s still extra spending money. Did all your friends go to one of the Big Four?”
“Every single one.” She nodded. “Everyone wants a Big Four internship. Some people even got job offers before graduating.”
“So…”
“Do you want to work for one?”
“Who doesn’t?”
Rak called a waiter over to refill the broth and ordered another plate of beef. He asked if Namkhing wanted anything else. She shook her head and started rummaging through her handbag.
“Oh, right.”
“Where were you this morning?”
“Weren’t you staying at your condo?”
She was probably asking because when she’d messaged him earlier, he’d said he was calling a ride.
Normally Rak took the BTS to university. He only booked a car if he had to transport one of his huge architectural models.
“I stayed at a friend’s place.”
The moment the words left his mouth, his mood soured. Just thinking about that friend was enough. He’d thought he’d already gotten over what happened that morning.
“It’s in one of the side streets, so I had to get a car to the BTS.”
“What friend?”
Namkhing looked surprised that he’d mentioned a friend without saying who. She twisted open a second tube of lipstick and carefully reapplied the colour to her lips. Rak noticed it was Chanel. The lipstick she’d been wearing earlier had been Dior.
“Do I know them?”
“No.”
“Just someone from my faculty.”
“You’ve got a friend close enough to sleep over at their place now?”
“It was necessary.”
Rak felt oddly proud of himself. That lie came out quickly… And, at least to him, it sounded completely natural.
“We were working on a project.”
“Was Karn there too?”
“No.”
“Different group.”
Namkhing nodded. She didn’t pry any further. Rak silently appreciated that.
“You’re done already?” he asked after seeing her finish touching up her lipstick and start scrolling through her phone.
“Yeah.”
“I’m full.”
“Isn’t that a bit too little?”
“If you were only going to eat that much, why invite me to an all-you-can-eat place?”
“I was worried you wouldn’t get enough.” She answered without looking up from her phone, tapping away at the screen.
Rak guessed she was either editing photos…or posting a story.
“Go ahead and keep eating. I can sit here. No rush.”
He didn’t actually believe she was full. He thought she’d chosen to stop eating. She didn’t order dessert. She drank nothing but water. Back in high school she’d insisted she couldn’t survive without fizzy drinks. Maybe she’d started taking better care of herself. That was a good thing. Still…
Rak couldn’t shake the feeling that she wasn’t eating enough.
“My friends are obsessed with Karn,” Namkhing suddenly said, still staring at her phone. “They check his Instagram every single day.”
“Tell them to message him.” Rak grinned. “He’s single now.”
“Easy for you to say.” She laughed.
“If they actually messaged him, they’d probably cry.”
“If that were the case, I’d have been crying a long time ago.”
“Oh? So people message him all the time?” Namkhing laughed.
“Comes with the territory.”
“The territory of being handsome.”
Rak laughed. He remembered when he and Karn had first started dating. Karn used to get upset because Rak never seemed jealous. No matter who tried to get close to Karn, Rak would smile and let it go. He never thought it was a big deal. Karn was good-looking, friendly, and kind. Of course people were going to be interested in him. If Rak got jealous over every single person, he’d only wear himself out. To him, letting things go was simply the easiest way to avoid unnecessary problems. But to Karn, it looked like Rak didn’t care.
“If it were me, I would’ve never broken up with Karn,” Namkhing said.
“Why? Because he’s handsome?” Rak asked with a laugh.
“Yeah,” she replied, completely serious. “And he’s rich. I’ve got a friend whose boyfriend is stupidly rich. He drives a Porsche to uni every day and gives her money to spend. Whenever they argue, he transfers money to make up with her. Whatever she wants, he buys it. For their anniversary, he bought her a Chanel bag. He’s seriously so sweet.”
“Sweet?” Rak raised an eyebrow as he chewed his beef.
“He gives her everything. He spoils her rotten. If that’s not sweet, what is?”
“That’s called being rich,” Rak said. “If I were as rich as him, I’d be that sweet too.”
“Well, then I want a sweet boyfriend like that.”
The conversation between the two old friends carried on as slice after slice of beef disappeared into the dark broth. Rak laughed, answered, and nodded along to Namkhing’s stories, all the while feeling an emptiness growing inside him.
At first it felt nice. They’d caught up on each other’s lives and joked around like they always used to. But the longer they talked, the more Rak felt as though they were drifting farther and farther apart. Only a hotpot separated them, yet the warmth he’d felt the moment he’d seen her was already fading.
Namkhing kept talking about the same things in different ways. She said "I want and everyone wants,” so often that it has become a catchphrase. She said today would be the last day she’d eat whatever she wanted because, starting tomorrow until the end of the month—about two weeks—she’d be living on instant noodles to save money for a new wallet.
She wanted a Louis Vuitton one just like her friend’s. She said she had to lose weight because no one else in her friend group weighed more than forty-five kilos. And when Rak told her she already looked perfectly healthy, she replied that no girl wanted to be the biggest one in the group.
Rak understood that people changed. His friend couldn’t stay the same forever. He understood that everyone had desires they didn’t need anyone else’s permission to have. Namkhing might want the same handbag as her friend, to intern at the same company, to weigh the same, or to have a generous boyfriend just like her friend’s. There was nothing wrong with any of that.
It was just that…
Rak no longer knew what to talk to her about. Their meetings used to be more fun. They used to be full of warmth, comfort, and ease. He had never cared what Namkhing owned, wore, or used, and she had never cared about those things when it came to him either. They’d admire something new the other had bought, then move on. They never obsessed over possessions or attached so much value to them because it had never been as enjoyable as making stupid jokes and talking about their own lives.
But now, between Rak and Namkhing, there was only my friend this, and I want that. What did we used to talk about?
Rak no longer knew who his friend really was. The only thing he knew was who she wanted to become—and how desperately she wanted to become that person.
He tried to find an opening to tell her what had been happening to him lately. She was his best friend, after all. She knew everything he’d gone through back in Lamphun. She had once been the only person who made him believe he could one day overcome the ghost haunting him.
That’s why he wanted her to know he’d been trying. He wanted to tell her he was finally fighting back, and that he needed her encouragement. But when he finally tried to bring it up, all she said was, “So that ghost still hasn’t moved on yet?”
Then she went right back to showing him her friend’s generous boyfriend's Instagram.
She hadn’t done anything wrong. Rak found himself mourning the fact that he no longer knew how to talk to this friend anymore.
The one person who had once made him feel as though he was home had now become a different home altogether.
There were no more conversations born of a shared songthaew ride.
No more…the scent of Lamphun.
Rak considered it his greatest achievement that he’d finally made it to opening day without getting sick.
He woke up early, arrived at the university theatre on time, and ate his first meal of the day—the boxed breakfast prepared by the welfare team—while sitting perfectly still as the makeup artists and hairstylists “beat him into shape” (their words, not his). They worked according to the plan they’d prepared, and it didn’t take nearly as long as he’d expected.
The play was about high school students, so there was no need for dramatic fantasy or period-style makeup and costumes. Everything was meant to look as natural as possible.
Kant sat beside Rak while getting his own makeup done. Every spare moment, he went over his lines, rehearsing with the actress playing the female lead in the chair next to him. He quietly practised his songs as well.
And of course, he asked Rak to feed him lines. They shared quite a few scenes.
“We know what you’re trying to do with Kat,” Rak read.
“Do you? And what are you going to do about it?” Karn replied without even looking at the script on his phone. His eyes remained closed while the makeup artist worked on them.
“We’re going to help.”
“Why?”
Rak took over the lines of another character whose actor wasn’t there. He knew everyone else’s dialogue too. They’d rehearsed these scenes hundreds of times.
“So you two are going to help me tame a wild horse?” Karn said.
Rak loved it when Karn used that voice—the one their instructor called his stage voice. And he especially loved hearing Karn say the words wild horse. Somehow, instead of sounding ridiculous, they made Rak’s heart flutter.
“Of course. We’ll do our research. We’ll find out what she likes. We’re on your side.”
It wasn’t only the scenes he appeared in that Rak had memorised. Even the scenes between Karn and the heroine, he could recite almost word for word. Whenever he watched them rehearse, he’d quietly mouth the dialogue along with them.
Sometimes he’d close his eyes and imagine himself standing where the heroine stood, speaking those lines as though they belonged to him.
It wasn’t that Rak wanted to be the heroine. He didn’t want to be a girl. He just wondered what it would be like if this play had been rewritten with him as the hero’s love interest instead.
“First of all,” Rak continued, “Kat hates smokers.”
“So you’re telling me to quit smoking?” Karn answered.
“Yes. At least for now.”
Rak continued with the best friend’s lines before returning to his own.
“And Bee says Kat likes handsome guys.”
Karn paused.
It was an acting beat. He wasn’t simply rehearsing his dialogue—he was imagining exactly what he’d be doing on stage.
Rak stole a glance at him. Whenever they reached this part, Rak could never stop himself from smiling.
To him, it was unbearably cute that someone as handsome as Karn would deliberately pull an annoyed face at being accused of not being handsome.
“So you’re saying I’m not handsome?”
“Of course you’re handsome. You’re incredibly handsome.”
Those were the actual lines from the script.
They had nothing to do with Rak’s personal feelings.
“Alright,” Rak continued. “Here’s a list of what she likes: Thai food, feminist literature, aggressive indie rock by female artists… and here’s a list of the CDs she keeps in her room.”
“So I have to buy noodles, buy books, and sit around listening to girls who can’t play music?” Karn replied.
They continued running through every scene they shared until they reached the end. When they finished, Karn turned and smiled.
“Thanks.”
Then, as though it were the most natural thing in the world, he reached over and poked Rak’s cheek once.
The hairstylist immediately let out a long wolf whistle. Even the actress playing Kat joined in with the teasing. There was nothing Rak could do except pretend to be mildly annoyed, even though the truth was that he wasn’t annoyed with Karn at all.
The moments before the curtain rose were the most terrifying. Rak felt as though the boxed meal he’d eaten was about to come right back up.
His palms were as cold as cans of soda. He paced back and forth behind the curtain, breathing so quickly that he already felt exhausted even though the performance hadn’t begun.
Mameaw did everything she could to calm him down. She guided him through breathing exercises, told him jokes, and even resorted to folk superstitions. None of it seemed to help very much. And before Mameaw could think of another idea, Jubjang came over and called her away to discuss something.
Rak was left alone again, his heart refusing to settle.
“Rak.”
Karn's voice came from behind him. Rak flinched and turned around, looking at him in confusion.
“Aren’t you supposed to be on that side?” Rak asked. He clearly remembered that before the show started, he and Karn were supposed to stand on opposite sides of the stage.
“I am.” Karn smiled. “But I wanted to give you something first.”
He held out his hand.
“Give me your hand.”
Still puzzled, Rak didn’t ask any questions. He extended his hand.
Karn reached into the back pocket of his trousers and pulled something out. It was a black cord. With practised ease, he draped it around Rak’s wrist and tied it as smoothly as if he’d rehearsed it a hundred times.
“I went to Wat Khaek yesterday,” Karn said. “So I brought this back for you.”
The black sacred thread rested quietly around Rak’s wrist. Rak stared at it in silence before looking back up at Karn, unable to put his feelings into words.
“It’s for good fortune,” Karn said gently. “Something to give you peace of mind.”
Then he stepped a little closer and lowered his voice until it was almost a whisper.
“And… to drive away evil spirits.”
As if perfectly timed, the director shouted from backstage the moment Karn finished speaking.
“Karn! Stand by!”
“I’m going. Good luck.”
Karn spoke quickly and hurried around to the opposite side of the stage.
“Karn.”
Rak caught him at the very last second. Karn turned back, raising an eyebrow.
“…Thanks.”
He smiled…and ran off. The pounding in Rak’s chest had finally returned to normal.
Each performance passed by so quickly that it hardly felt like the play they’d spent months preparing.
The first show ended without a single mistake.
During the second, Rak stumbled over a few words, but everyone assumed it was part of his acting.
After the third performance, Karn admitted he’d sung slightly off-key, yet no one had noticed.
In the fourth, the heroine didn’t manage to change her shoes in time.
The fifth.
The sixth.
The seventh.
The eighth.
The ninth.
The tenth.
There were small mistakes here and there—just enough to make everyone’s heart race—but in the end, every performance finished successfully. When they took their final bow, many people broke down in tears.
Rak thought he might have been one of them. For a brief moment, his eyes burned with heat.
Then the feeling passed. Amid the thunderous applause after the final performance, Rak was happy that everything was finally over.
Another long, exhausting chapter had come to an end. He had never been prouder of himself. And he felt relieved…though not completely.
Rak swept his gaze across the auditorium, squinting against the bright lights. He wasn’t sure whether it was normal to feel sad after the final show. Shouldn’t he have been happier?
He’d been waiting for this day all along. So why, now that it had finally arrived, did it feel so bittersweet? Why did he want to hold onto this moment just a little longer? It wasn’t because he loved acting so much that he wanted the performances to continue forever. He didn’t want to perform anymore. He didn’t want it to end like this.
Even after the curtain had fallen, he still didn’t understand why.
After the performance came the congratulations. Friends, siblings, parents, and acquaintances of the cast carried bouquets and gifts as they crowded around the actors, taking endless photos and videos as if it were graduation day.
Karn barely had a chance to catch his breath.
People streamed toward him without stopping.
As always, he greeted everyone with the same warm smile, despite looking completely exhausted. Mameaw’s mother, younger sister, and boyfriend had even brought glowing signs in support, cheering for her as though she were competing on a reality talent show.
Rak’s own moment of celebration, meanwhile, lasted less than five minutes. He received two bouquets. One from Namkhing. The other from the director. He stood quietly in a corner of the stage, watching his friends laugh with the people who had come to congratulate them.
He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do.
Could he leave now? Or should he stay and keep watching everyone pose cutely and wrap each other in hugs for photos?
Rak thought he’d grown used to standing quietly in his own little corner. But maybe not as much as he’d believed. For the first time, he regretted telling his parents, “It’s just a faculty play. You don’t have to come.”
He didn’t know why he’d assumed the other actors’ parents wouldn’t be there either. In reality, Karn's parents had come to watch two performances. Then again… Lamphun was so far away. Why should his parents have travelled all that way? Why would he even want them to when he had been the one who’d chosen to run away from home in the first place? In the end, Rak gave up.
Standing there awkwardly wasn’t accomplishing anything. He decided it would be better to find a quiet place, sit down, breathe for a while and wait until it was time for the project’s closing celebration. Maybe I shouldn’t go after all…
Just as Rak was deciding whether to stay for the cast party or slip back to his room, his gaze caught on someone standing at the staircase in the middle of the auditorium. The person was wearing a Chainsaw Man T-shirt, had bright silver hair, and was holding… a flower garland? He was looking this way.
Looking directly at Rak. What the hell is he doing now?
“What are you doing here?”
Rak hadn’t meant for his voice to come out so cold, but he couldn’t help it. The loudmouthed idiot standing in front of him made him want to be cruel in a way he’d never been before.
The two of them slipped away from the crowd and headed to the small garden beside the theatre. Most people were still inside taking photos, so it was relatively quiet outside. The trees surrounding the brick courtyard offered enough cover from the occasional passerby.
Unfortunately, there was nothing to shield the guilty party from the icy stare Rak was directing at him.
“I came to watch you perform,” Van answered quietly.
He sat down on one of the swings, his eyes darting around nervously while he continued clutching the creamy white flower garland in his hands.
“You wanted me to come, didn’t you?”
“Did I?”
“If you didn’t, why did you leave the ticket for me?”
This time, Van sounded more certain. He met Rak’s eyes, speaking with obvious urgency.
“Oh. So you did see the ticket.”
“I did—”
“And you also saw that it was a ticket for the first performance.”
Van fell silent. It wasn’t because he lacked an explanation. He had one. But the cold look in Rak’s eyes made his mistake painfully obvious, reminding him just how badly he’d screwed up.
“Okay, listen,” Van spoke carefully. “I know you’re angry—”
“I’m not angry,” Rak cut him off sharply.
Van actually froze.
“I’m just surprised you came.”
“Fine. Okay. You’re just surprised.” Van
nodded, forcing himself to stay calm even though his brain was clearly working overtime trying to save himself. “But I can explain why you’re surprised.”
He took a slow breath.
“You left the ticket on my study desk, right? I’m guessing you left it there that night, then put the flower tray on top of it. The next morning we had that fight, and after you left, I was still pissed—”
“Why were you pissed?” Rak interrupted. “So this is somehow my fault?”
“No, no. Listen first.”
Van quickly raised both hands in surrender. It was probably the first time Rak had ever seen someone as cocky as Van look this meek.
“I know everything I’ve said so far sounds bad,” Van admitted. “But I’ve already organised my thoughts. Just let me finish. If you’re still not satisfied afterwards… you can punch me.”
“Why would I punch you?”
“…You don’t want to?”
“I do.”
“Okay.”
The guilty man lowered his head without argument.
“Just hear me out first. Then you can hit me.”
Rak didn’t reply. He stood there with his arms folded. Van decided to take that as permission to continue.
“I was angry because of our argument, so I stayed out all day. When I left that morning, I never even looked at my desk, so I didn’t notice you’d left the ticket there. Then, when I came back that night and saw all the ritual stuff in my room, I got annoyed all over again. I was going to throw it all away…”
He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly.
“And somehow… that ticket had slipped underneath the flower tray. Or maybe the tray had slid onto it. I honestly don’t know.”
“But I honestly didn’t see it. I swear. All I saw was the flower tray, so I picked it up to return it to Auntie. I had no idea the ticket was stuck to the bottom. When I carried the tray outside, it must’ve fallen off.”
“And then you still didn’t see it?”
“Yeah… that’s on me. I’m an idiot,” Van admitted so quickly that Rak didn’t even know how to keep scolding him. “I had no idea that ticket was there. Then Mae found it and sent a picture of it to the group chat, asking whose it was.”
“And you didn’t read the chat either?”
“I did read it!” Van protested, his voice rising as he tried to sound indignant. But the moment he met Rak’s stare, he immediately shrank back again.
“…But by the time I realised there was a ticket… It was too late. I didn’t notice until that evening. Your first performance had already finished.”
Rak looked away. It really did sound like an accident. But somehow, that didn’t make him feel any better. He couldn’t decide whether Van was trying to explain himself or just making him even angrier.
“There were, what, ten performances?” Rak asked in disbelief.
“I didn’t know there were that many!”
“And it never occurred to you to call me?”
Just like they had back in Van’s room, they were shouting at each other again.
“Everything you’ve just told me…” Rak’s voice trembled. “If you’d called me that day, I wouldn’t have spent all this time feeling like this.”
“I…”
Van fell silent. He knew this part was entirely his fault. He’d clung to his pride until the very last moment.
“…I’m sorry.”
“Did you know I waited every single day?” Rak said. “I kept looking out from backstage, wondering which day you’d show up, wondering if you’d call. If you’d just let my phone ring once… even without a ticket, I could’ve gotten you inside. But you didn’t do anything.”
His voice cracked.
“You completely disappeared.”
“Rak…”
“Why did you wait until the very last day?!”
Only after finally letting all those bottled-up feelings spill out did Rak truly hear himself. And in that moment, he realised how foolish he’d been.
He let out a long sigh, walked over to the swing beside Van’s, and dropped into it before covering his face with both hands in embarrassment.
What right did I have to expect so much from him? Why should Van have wanted to watch his play just because he’d invited him? Van was only here because Rak had hired him. They weren’t even friends. Rak had known that all along.
“…I’m sorry.”
His voice was barely above a whisper as he stared at the tips of his shoes, unable to meet Van’s eyes.
“I’m sorry for what I just said. Forget it… I was being selfish.”
“No.”
Van stood up from the swing and crouched down in front of him.
“It’s my fault.”
“What I said that day wasn’t true. None of it. I never really thought you were looking for attention.”
“You said I always run away from my problems.”
“Which isn’t true.”
Van gently rested a hand on Rak’s knee. This time, he looked directly into Rak’s eyes without hesitation. Instead, it was Rak who couldn’t bring himself to look back.
“If you were the kind of person who runs away, why would you hire me to deal with that ghost in the first place?”
He smiled softly.
“You’ve been trying to change everything. You’ve put in so much effort. You even stayed at my place even though it’s far from campus, and you slept on the floor. Someone who runs away wouldn’t do that.”
“Then why did you say it?”
“Because I’ve got a foul mouth.” Van shrugged.
“Didn’t you know that?”
Rak almost laughed. It was unbelievable that Van could still make him smile even now.
“I got angry, and when I’m angry, I say the worst things I can think of. I wasn’t using my brain at all. If I thought something would hurt you, I said it.”
“I’m an idiot.”
“You’re not an idiot,” Rak murmured.
“You’re just an asshole.”
“Yeah.” Van nodded immediately. “I am an asshole. That’s why I’m here apologising.”
“You even called me a ghost.”
“…Yes, sir.”
“The asshole knows he was wrong.”
In the end, Rak lost. A laugh escaped him despite himself. The moment Van saw it, a huge grin spread across his face. The feeling was no different from finally solving a physics problem he’d been struggling over for days all by himself.
Only today did he realise that making someone smile could be an achievement too.
“I’m sorry too,” Rak said quietly. “I had no right to say those things. I don’t know anything about your life.”
“Mmm…” Van nodded. “If you forgive me for having such a filthy mouth, then I’ll forgive you for saying that.”
“It works like that?”
“It’s called a fair trade.”
Rak let out a quiet laugh before nodding.
“Okay.”
“Okay?” Van echoed, tilting his head with a teasing raise of his eyebrows.
“I forgive you,” Rak replied, rolling his eyes.
“Happy now?”
“Very!”
Van’s grin widened.
“Then I forgive you too!”
The heaviness that had been weighing on Rak’s heart slowly melted away. Now he finally understood why he’d been so sad, why he hadn’t wanted the play to end, even though he’d been exhausted.
It had all been because of this rotten idiot. Because more than anything…Rak had wanted someone looking up at him from below the stage.
While everyone else watched the heroine, watched Karn, watched Mameaw, or whoever they cared about…Rak had wanted to know that at least one person had come to watch him—someone who would smile and laugh with him and applaud him with genuine happiness.
“So why’d you bring a flower garland?” Rak asked, noticing Van was still holding it. “Were you planning to offer it at a shrine or something?”
“I brought it for you.”
“…Why?”
“I wanted to buy you flowers,” Van admitted.
“But I had no idea what kind. So I asked Phi Talay, and he said to buy someone’s favourite flower… or a flower that makes you think of them.”
He scratched the back of his head.
“…But I don’t know what your favourite flower is.”
“So you bought a jasmine garland instead?”
“Well…” Van placed the jasmine garland into Rak’s hands.
“When I saw this, it reminded me of you. It smells just like when we did the ghost-summoning ritual together.”
He smiled.
“It’s a flower of memories.”
Rak looked at him with the expression of someone whose heart had officially reached its limit. Meanwhile, the culprit just kept smiling happily as he tried to slip the jasmine garland over Rak’s wrist like a kindergarten child celebrating Mother’s Day.
“I’m not your mother, Phi Van.”
Still wearing the garland, Rak pushed Van’s head away with one hand. Van toppled backwards onto the ground…and burst into loud laughter.
“I’ve never even bought my own mom a garland to apologise before.”
“So this is your apology?”
“Of course it is!”
Van puffed out his chest dramatically.
“This is the absolute best apology a manly man like me is capable of.”
“You rotten bastard.”
“I like ‘rotten asshole’ better.”
“No.”
Rak smirked.
“You’re a rotten bastard.”
The truth was…Maybe Rak hadn’t been jealous of his friends who had so many people there to congratulate them after all. Maybe all he’d really wanted was one person. Someone whose presence could make up for all those other people—not too much, not too little. And somehow… That person wasn’t his family. Wasn’t his boyfriend. Wasn’t even a friend. Just someone who had no obligation to be there…but chose to come anyway.
“So…” Van asked cautiously.
“Are you still going to punch me?”
“I am.”
“Then could you aim for my left temple?” Van replied without hesitation. “My forehead and the back of my head only just recovered a few days ago.”