The Crow Club: Over My Dead Body

Chapter 9.

Two weeks passed, and both Rak and Van seemed to agree to disappear from each other’s lives silently.

 

It wasn’t just that they hadn’t seen each other. There were no incoming or outgoing calls, no missed calls, no messages in their chat, and no explanations. It was as though they had both suddenly decided they shouldn’t make contact… or perhaps each was secretly hoping the other would reach out first.

 

Van had been lying in bed since late morning, staring at the old ceiling fan above him. The rust clinging to its blades and the layer of dust somehow gave it a stylish, vintage look. It suited the fan well because, as far back as he could remember, it had always been there. It spun endlessly, sometimes obeying the speed settings and sometimes not, groaning like an old man on his deathbed.

 

As a child, Van had found it incredibly annoying. But as he grew older, he realised that sometimes irritating sounds were the very things that helped him fall asleep.

 

Counting carefully, today marked exactly one week since he’d moved back home. Moved back, not come home for a visit. Everything he owned had been packed up and taken out of Crow Club, returning to the old two-story shophouse where he’d grown up. 

 

The ground floor was his parents’ noodle shop, while the upstairs served as their living quarters—although, for his parents, it was really just a place to sleep. They preferred staying downstairs whether the shop was open or closed.

 

As for Van, unless he was helping serve customers or blanch noodles, he spent all his time upstairs in his room, just as he was doing now.

 

Actually, he had to admit that he had a little more freedom than before. His parents no longer expected him to help in the noodle shop. His mother had said, “As long as you’re back home, that’s enough. If you want to lie around doing absolutely nothing, then go ahead.”

 

His father had nodded in agreement. It wasn’t until he returned home this time that Van truly realised how much things had changed.

 

He felt like a guest. His parents no longer nagged him over every little thing. There were no more: “Van! Go wash the dishes!” or “Van! Come help your mother cook the noodles!”

 

Instead, they asked, “What do you feel like eating? Anything except noodles—I’ll make it for you.”

 

No one pounded on his door for staying up until dawn or sleeping half the day away. Van figured several things had caused this change.

 

First, the last conversation he’d had with his mother had been painfully tense. Both of them had been left with plenty to think about.

Second, this was the first time he’d come home after their huge fight and after moving out. And third… Perhaps the most important reason of all… He was about to leave for Japan.

 

The previous week, one million baht had suddenly appeared in Van's bank account. At first he’d thought he’d been caught in some scam. He’d rushed downstairs to Linda in a panic, asking for help, only to be met with a cold stare and an exhausted voice.

 

“I transferred it.”

 

“Transferred what?”

 

“What else would it be?” Linda shrugged.

 

“Rak’s payment. He called to close the case. He transferred everything, your fee and mine. I deducted my share and sent you the rest. Why would I keep it?”

 

What surprised Van wasn’t that Rak had decided to close the case. He’d always known that would happen eventually. What left him speechless was that Rak had ended everything without talking to him first. He hadn’t explained anything.

 

The last time they’d met at the university, Rak hadn’t seemed eager to end the job. Yet only a week later, he’d wrapped everything up without consulting Van even once. 

 

Rak probably thought Van would be happy. After almost dying several times, he’d finally earned his million baht.

 

And honestly…

He was happy.

He was finally going to Japan.

If anyone asked why Van hadn’t contacted Rak himself…He’d answer like a man.

 

“I don’t know.”

 

Maybe it was pride. Maybe he didn’t want to surrender first after spending so long locked in this silent war. Or maybe he didn’t know what he was supposed to say.

 

Everything was already obvious. Rak was living peacefully with his boyfriend. No ghosts were bothering him anymore. He was satisfied with the service. The terms of their agreement had been fulfilled. So Rak closed the case. Transferred the money. Everything had happened exactly according to their contract.

Nothing remained unfinished. So if Van still felt like something had been left unresolved, then perhaps… He was the only one who felt that way.

 

There really wasn’t anything left to talk about.

And yet…

He couldn’t understand why he still Vanted there to be.

 

Knock. Knock.

The sound interrupted his thoughts. Van sighed. So much for believing his parents had finally decided to leave him alone.

 

“Van.” His mother’s voice came from outside the bedroom door. He was a little surprised she hadn’t barged straight in like she used to. Back when he was in middle school, she had an awful habit of opening his door while he was changing, leaving his “little elephant” on display more times than he cared to count.

 

“Are you asleep?”

 

“No.”

 

Van answered lazily, still staring at the ceiling fan.

 

“What’s up, Mom?”

 

“Can you go buy some fish sauce for me?”

 

There it was. He knew it. So much for thinking things had changed. No matter what, Van would always be Mom’s Van, the boy whose lifelong role was running out to buy fish sauce.

 

“I’ll give you some money to buy snacks.”

 

“Oh, come on. Someone at my level doesn’t take pocket money from his mom anymore.”

 

Even though he grumbled inwardly, Van got up without complaining. He figured this was only natural. They both knew a great distance’d soon separate them. Every second before he boarded that plane for Japan was precious to his mother. He hadn’t exactly been the world’s best son, so being well-behaved for a little while wasn’t going to kill him.

 

“What is this?”

 

Opening the door, he found his mother standing outside holding a crumpled hundred-baht note. He looked at the wrinkled bill in her hand and chuckled.

 

“Is that the change from Dunk’s snack money?”

 

“Yep.” She smiled. “You don’t have to give it back. Spend it all on snacks.”

 

His mother really was never going to let him grow up. She still believed that a few dozen baht was enough for his snack money, even though he was now several heads taller than her and had finally reached the age where taking money from his mom felt embarrassing.

 

Yes.

Even thick-skinned Van had finally learned what embarrassment was.

 

“It’s okay.”

 

He casually reached for the phone charging beside the door. The battery was over eighty per cent—plenty for paying by QR code and scrolling through TikTok on the way.

 

“I’ll pay myself. Do you need anything else? Just fish sauce?”

 

“Just fish sauce,” his mother replied. “The big bottle. The cap—”

 

“The pink cap,” Van finished before she could.

“I know. I’ve been buying it since I was this tall.”

 

“So you’ve grown up now, have you?”

 

“That’s right. I’m as tall as Shimeji’s dad.”

 

Smack!

The white-haired troublemaker earned a satisfying smack on the head. Laughing, he thundered downstairs.

 

His mother watched her son’s broad back disappear, her heart feeling strangely heavy. The sound of his heavy footsteps pounding down the old wooden staircase hadn’t changed at all. Even though he’d grown two or three times bigger than she remembered, he still sounded exactly like the little boy who used to race down those stairs.

 

Back in elementary school, Van’s father used to scold him every single day for stomping around.

 

“The floorboards are so loud they’re hurting my ears!”

 

He would also tease his mischievous son:

“Who knows which plank has already been hollowed out by termites? Keep running like that. One day you’ll find yourself taking a shortcut straight through the floor.”

 

Of course…

Van never listened.

He kept running anyway.

 

“Dad! I’m going to buy fish sauce! Want me to get you anything?”

 

His voice always arrived before he did. He shouted from halfway down the stairs before his feet had even reached the bottom. But… No answer came back, just like every other day. And by the time he reached the ground floor, he no longer needed to ask why. He knew the answer the moment he saw his father’s face.

No…

The moment he saw that person.

 

“I came for noodles,” Rak spoke awkwardly.

 

He was sitting at one of the tables while Van’s father calmly blanched noodles, acting as though nothing unusual was happening.

 

“…And…”

 

“I brought something for you.”

 

Rak lifted a stuffed canvas bag from the chair beside him and placed it on the table with an embarrassed smile.

 

Only then did Van discover that sending him out to buy fish sauce had been a conspiracy between both his parents.

 

Honestly…He couldn’t understand why they’d gone to all that trouble. It wasn’t as if he were the heroine of a romantic comedy refusing to see the male lead after a lovers’ quarrel. If his mother had walked upstairs and said,

“Van, your friend is here,” he would have come running immediately.

 

“So?”

 

Van teased when he noticed Rak still hadn’t stopped looking around his bedroom since the moment he’d walked in.

 

Rak sat on the edge of Van’s bed, slowly sweeping his gaze around the room as if he were collecting research for a thesis.

 

“Well? Impressed?”

 

“Does it compare to your condo?”

 

“It’s much better.”

 

“You’re kidding.”

 

Van snorted with a laugh, feeling faintly as though he were being made fun of.

 

“This room is older than I am, you know.”

 

“No wonder. It has so much character.”

 

“Are you making fun of my room?”

 

“No.” Rak shook his head seriously. “I really think it’s better than my condo. It’s bigger, there’s more storage space… and you can cover the walls with posters.”

 

Just like the room at Crow Club, Van’s bedroom at home had posters plastered across nearly every wall. Besides robots and dinosaurs, he’d unintentionally become a poster collector. Some came from record stores, some were freebies, some were bundled with purchases. Friends and cousins who knew he loved rock bands and anime often brought him posters whenever they visited.

 

Whenever he got one, he’d stick it on the wall without giving it much thought. There was no plan or neat arrangement—slap them wherever there was space. Before he knew it, there wasn’t even enough empty wall left to hang the clock he’d won in a New Year’s raffle.

 

“Oh… right. You can’t put posters up in a condo.”

 

“Not if you’re renting,” Rak replied, still studying the old posters on the wall. “When you move out, you’d have to peel them off. If they damage the paint, the landlord charges you by the spot. You’d lose your entire deposit.”

 

“So that’s one advantage of an old house,” Van nodded. “It can’t really get much worse than it already is.”

 

“It’s got a nice vintage feel.”

 

“My house is just… old.”

 

Rak laughed. That soft laugh and the slight smile tugging at the corner of his lips made Van feel as though he’d finally shed one layer of heavy armour. It was still weighing him down, but at least it was a little lighter.

 

He’d thought that after disappearing from each other’s lives without a word, things between them would be unbearably awkward that they wouldn’t even be able to look each other in the eye. Instead, Rak was sitting on his bed, exploring his room, laughing just like they always used to.

 

“Your parents are really nice,” Rak said.

 

“They’re nice because you’re not their kid,” Van replied.

 

He hadn’t meant it as harshly as it sounded, but everyone knew what Van was like. He had a foul mouth. And whenever he felt nervous, it got even worse.

 

“That’s true.” Fortunately, Rak didn’t take offence. Instead, he nodded in agreement. 

 

“Sometimes parents are at their nicest… when they’re not being parents.”

 

Van had a feeling he’d accidentally touched on something he shouldn’t have.

 

“What are your parents like?” Van asked as he sat down against the headboard while Rak claimed the foot of the bed.

 

“Are they kind?”

 

“They are.” Rak slowly nodded, choosing his words carefully. “Pretty much what you’d expect from good parents. They’re successful; they’ve always provided everything I could ever need. They praise me both to my face and behind my back. My dad loves our family. He adores my mom and has never strayed. All he cares about is the orchard. My mom takes care of everything at home—including Dad’s entire side of the family. Everyone loves her, and everyone respects my dad.”

 

“You sound like some rich young master who ran away from his estate.”

 

“…Maybe I am.”

 

The heir to the longan orchard smiled. But it wasn’t the kind of smile Van liked seeing. It was too lonely.

 

“If I’d stayed home… and done everything my parents wanted," Rak said quietly, “I never would’ve had to struggle.”

 

“I’m not trying to brag, but I know that even if I got terrible grades… or graduated and ended up with a low-paying job… I’d still live comfortably. My parents already planned my entire future.”

 

Van dealt with that lonely expression the only way he knew how. Stretching out his legs, he nudged Rak’s backside lightly with the tip of his foot. It worked. Rak laughed and immediately swatted Van’s leg.

 

“So why didn’t you stay, Your Highness?” Van teased, though he already had a good idea of the answer. “Why run away from your royal longan kingdom?”

 

“Then why did you leave home?”

 

“Because my mom kicked me out.”

 

Rak turned to look directly into Van’s eyes, raising an eyebrow ever so slightly, as if demanding the most honest answer possible.

Van knew exactly what that look meant.

He sighed.

 

“…Because I didn’t want to live in a house where no one accepted who I really was.”

 

Rak smiled and nodded. Van could tell he approved of that answer.

 

“I’m the same,” Rak said, absently running his hand over Van’s bedsheet.

 

“My parents accepted everything about me. Even if I failed exams… even if I barely had any friends at school. Mom always said I hadn’t done anything wrong—that I wasn’t strange. That other people didn’t understand me. They accepted everything…”

“…except for one thing.”

 

“…The one thing they couldn’t accept… was that I was gay.”

 

Van silently filled in the blank, his heart aching.

 

“The first time I told my dad outright that I liked men…” Rak continued quietly, “he looked devastated. Like his only son had suddenly died without warning. He was so heartbroken that I ended up feeling guilty for being this way.”

 

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Van said.

Rak looked at him.

 

“Didn’t you ever feel guilty toward your parents?”

 

Van could answer that immediately.

Yes.

Or more accurately…

He still did.

 

“It’s so unfair, isn’t it?” Rak smiled sadly again. “Why do we have to feel guilty over something that isn’t wrong? Just because we’re not the people our parents wanted us to be… suddenly everything falls apart. It’s like everything they’ve done for us has been for nothing.”

 

When he was younger, Van used to wish he could grow up quickly so he could finally understand his parents. He wanted to understand those endless expectations and that fragile disappointment they always carried.

 

He wanted to become a parent himself someday, hoping that when he looked back, he’d laugh at how foolish he’d been as a child and realise his parents had been right all along. But now… That wish had changed. He no longer wanted to understand them. He didn’t want to keep feeling guilty over things that could never be undone. He didn’t want to understand why parents expected so much or why they never seemed able to cope with disappointment. He didn't want to understand anymore.

 

It wasn’t that he hated his parents. But if he ever became one himself, he didn’t want to be the kind of parent they were.

 

“You’re seriously… amazing,” Van said, his eyes shining.

 

Rak blinked, confused. He had no idea when he’d lit that spark in Van’s eyes.

 

“You walked away before I ever could… and you ran so much farther than I did.”

 

Me…? Had he somehow become an inspiration to the impossibly proud Van?

 

“If Grandpa hadn’t left me money… I wouldn’t have been able to do any of this,” Rak said with a faint smile.

 

It was something he’d only recently come to fully understand—thanks to a certain idiot who had shown him what real poverty looked like.

 

“As long as you’re still dependent on someone… it’s incredibly hard to be yourself.”

 

It felt as though Rak had climbed straight into the centre of Van’s heart. Rak was talking about his own life…Yet somehow he was telling Van’s story too.

 

“Even though I went against them—choosing architecture instead of a degree that would lead to becoming a government official like they wanted, choosing to study far from home even though they kept saying they wanted me nearby- Dad still transfers money into my account every month.”

 

“He worries about you,” Van said softly.

 

“…Yeah.”

 

“But I never spend any of it.”

 

Rak lowered his head, looking anything but proud of his own stubbornness. To Van, though… He’d never admired the idiot sitting beside him more.

 

“I tell him it’s for my condo expenses… but I actually live entirely on the money Grandpa left me.”

 

“I know he sends it because he cares. Because he worries. Because I’m his son.”

 

“But every time that money appears in my account…”

 

“…it feels like he’s paying me to stop being gay.”

 

If only it were that easy, Van thought.

 

“But I can’t.”

 

“How am I supposed to stop?”

 

“It’s not like I’m a delinquent who can turn over a new leaf.”

 

“You can’t just reform yourself out of being gay…”

 

“I’m glad you didn’t,” Van said. Rak looked at him in confusion.

 

“Glad about what?”

 

“…That you didn’t change.”

 

Van couldn’t tell what Rak was thinking. Rak sat there, staring at him. That look could mean so many different things. Maybe he’d understood what Van meant and felt relieved. Maybe he hadn’t understood at all and thought Van was mocking him. Or maybe he’d understood perfectly… and still felt hurt.

Because, in the end… Rak had never believed Van could truly understand him.

 

He probably thought those were comforting words from a straight man, someone who could never know what it was like to be born fundamentally at odds with the expectations of everyone around you. That… was exactly why Van loved science.

 

Van wasn’t very good at interpreting things that were left vague like this.

 

“…Rak, I brought this for you.”

 

And Rak didn’t make anything any clearer. He sniffled softly before casually changing the subject. Lifting the bulky cloth bag onto the bed, he said,

 

“I went to your place… I mean, the club. Linda told me you’d moved out, but you’d left something behind.”

 

Van pulled open the bag. The moment he peeked inside, he knew what it was—his three thick, worn-out textbooks.

 

“I was actually planning to leave those behind,” Van chuckled. “I’ve already read them cover to cover. Besides, they’re really old now. The information’s been updated so much that they’re practically obsolete. I figured I’d leave them there so Auntie could donate them.”

 

“If that’s what you meant to do…” Rak said, “you should’ve stuck a Post-it note on them saying so. They were getting ready to mail them back to you.”

 

“I thought I did.” Van tilted his head, frowning. “I’m pretty sure I wrote, ‘Please donate these,’ and even underlined it three times.”

 

“I didn’t see any note.”

 

“Really?”

 

“Mhm. If I’d seen it, would I have brought them all the way here?”

 

Van blinked. He was certain he’d left a note.

But if Rak said there wasn’t one…

…then maybe it had simply fallen off before anyone noticed.

 

“Then why didn’t you just let Auntie handle it?” Van asked. “She was already going to send them back anyway.”

 

Rak looked away. His awkwardness forced Van’s hopelessly dense brain to start working overtime. Then one incredibly stupid conclusion popped into his head, and suddenly his cheeks burned.

 

“I just thought… we should talk.”

 

Rak’s voice was quiet. Several times he tried to meet Van’s eyes…

…and every time he failed, looking away again instead.

 

“Oh…”

 

“…Okay.”

 

Van decided it was up to him to make things easier. Pretending nothing had happened ever since they’d seen each other again clearly wasn’t a solution. And it probably wasn’t what Rak Vanted either.

 

“I just… figured everything was okay now.”

“You’re back with your boyfriend.”

“Kahala hasn’t shown up again.”

“So… I assumed my job was finished.”

“And you weren’t going to tell me how you did it?”

 

Rak absentmindedly played with the edge of Van’s blanket, acting as though this wasn’t a serious conversation even though he’d come all the way to Van’s house for it.

 

“I didn’t really do anything special.”

 

Van shrugged.

 

“We just talked.”

“I explained things to her…”

“…and she accepted it.”

“That’s all?”

 

For the first time, Rak finally looked him straight in the eye.

 

“Yep.”

 

“She came to see you…”

“…alone?”

 

“Yeah.”

Van nodded.

 

“She had an issue with me, so it wasn’t strange that she’d come looking for me. In the beginning she was showing up in my dreams every single night.”

 

“And… she talked to you?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“And then she just… agreed to leave?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

Rak’s face made it painfully obvious he didn’t believe a word of it. He stared at Van, his brows knitted together. It looked like he had dozens more questions …but he didn’t ask a single one, maybe because Van seemed so completely certain that all he’d done was talk.

 

“Come on.” Van laughed lightly, trying to ease the mood. “What more do you need?”

 

“The ghost’s gone. Isn’t that enough?”

“Isn’t that why you hired me in the first place?”

“To talk to ghosts?”

 

“…Yeah.”

Rak answered so quietly it was almost a whisper. The confusion never left his face.

 

“…I just never thought she’d agree so easily.”

 

“How do you know it was easy?” Van said with a small laugh. “It took a lot of effort to get her to agree.”

 

“No… that’s not what I meant…”

 

“Then you should be happy. The job’s finished. I closed the deal successfully. There’s nothing left to worry about. From now on, you and your sweetheart can date officially.”

 

Van was a little disappointed that he didn’t even get a smile in return. In fact, Rak looked noticeably more upset.

 

His brows drew together, his jaw clenched, and he breathed sharply through his nose as if he were using every ounce of self-control not to explode.

 

Oh no.

You definitely said something wrong again, Van.

 

“So… you’re really going to leave it like this?”

There it was. Rak had finally reached his limit.

He looked directly at Van again, irritation plain in his eyes.

 

There was something about that look that made the hairs on the back of Van’s neck stand up.

 

Not because he was disgusted.

Not because he was afraid of Rak.

No…

Maybe he was afraid.

 

“What do you mean?”

 

But it wasn’t Rak he was afraid of. Van could never be afraid of Rak.

 

“You’re just going to pretend nothing ever happened… and then leave?”

 

What he was really afraid of…

…was never being able to escape himself.

 

That night… after Rak’s final stage performance.

 

“Love doesn’t seem so bad after all.”

“Maybe someday… I’ll fall for someone too.”

 

After hearing those words from Van, Rak stayed silent for a long time. So long that Van thought he’d fallen asleep. If that was the case, then his plan of chatting until Rak got sleepy had worked perfectly.

 

Van pulled the blanket up to his chest and closed his eyes again.

 

“Van.”

 

Turns out…

He’d been wrong.

 

“Yeah?” Van answered lazily. “I thought you were asleep.”

 

“…Could you sleep down here with me?”

 

Only then did Van understand why Rak had been so quiet.

 

“…I’m scared of ghosts.”

 

Rak had slept here countless times before.

But never—not once—had he asked for something like this. He’d always insisted he didn’t mind sleeping on the floor.

 

“When I pull all-nighters at the studio, I don’t even have a mat.”

 

And besides, he’d always said squeezing two grown men onto a three-and-a-half-foot bed was a terrible idea. Whoever slept on the outside would probably roll off within a few hours. But tonight was different. Tonight was the first time Rak had actually sensed Kahala’s presence.

 

Van hesitated for a moment. In the end, he pulled the thick mattress topper off his own bed—Linda’s mattress was so hard it felt like sleeping on bare wood—and spread it out on the floor beside Rak’s bedding.

 

Rak was lying on his side, looking up at him with wide, hopeful eyes. He didn’t have to say it. It was obvious he was trying his hardest not to grin.

 

“…Thanks,” Rak whispered.

 

“It’s fine.”

 

Van lay down on the makeshift bed, staring up at the ceiling from an unfamiliar angle.

 

“The bed isn’t even that comfortable, honestly.”

 

“The last time I looked at the light fixture from this angle was when I collapsed after working out.”

 

“You can’t even stretch your arms out all the way.”

 

“Right here, you can spread your arms and legs as much as you want," Rak said. “Just don’t hit me.”

 

“I won’t,” Van chuckled. “I sleep like a saint.”

 

Rak thought that was true. Every time he’d woken up in the middle of the night before, Van had always been in the same position he’d fallen asleep in.

 

“You’re the one who spins around like the hands of a clock.”

 

That was true too.

 

“I won’t move around tonight.”

 

“How do you know?” Van laughed. “You can control that?”

 

“If someone’s sleeping next to me, I don’t toss and turn as much.”

 

“Or maybe you move just as much, but the person next to you is just being polite.”

 

“How about this—if I hit you three times tonight, you can go back to sleeping on the bed.” Rak sounded completely confident.

 

“And what if you knock me unconscious with the first hit?”

 

“Then you won’t feel the next two, so what’s the problem?”

 

Van was left speechless by that answer. The room fell quiet once more. Both of them were finally letting the other rest after a day full of chaos. Van was drifting toward sleep. In another few minutes he’d probably be completely out. Rak wasn’t much different. Knowing someone was nearby made him feel strangely sleepy—or perhaps the allergy medicine he’d taken was finally kicking in.

 

Out of habit, Rak rolled onto his side again. His arm accidentally brushed against Van’s chest. He flinched softly, not expecting Van to be lying quite so close. Opening his eyes in the darkness, he realised Van really was close. The white-haired young man, who never seemed to stop moving during the day, was sleeping peacefully right in front of him. They were facing each other. Van’s eyes were closed. Rak’s were wide open. In the silence of the night, Rak’s heart pounded wildly. It beat so loudly he was afraid it might wake Van. Wasn’t allergy medicine supposed to make people sleepy?

 

As Rak struggled to understand the strange sensation in his chest, Van shifted his arm unconsciously. The moment their arms touched, Rak instinctively held his breath. He thought he should move away, but for some reason, he stayed perfectly still, waiting to see whether Van would notice.

 

And if he did…

Would he pull away?

Or leave things as they were?

Rak waited for his answer—

Until Van slowly opened his eyes.

 

Van didn’t say a word. He looked into Rak’s eyes for what felt like an eternity. Then, slowly, he moved his arm again. Not away. Closer. Deliberately, he let their skin brush together.

 

The warmth of the back of his hand glided gently along Rak’s forearm, almost as if he were intentionally torturing him from wrist to elbow.

 

Rak’s heart felt ready to leap out of his chest. Then Van turned his hand over, slowly stroking back from Rak’s elbow to his wrist. Rak’s breathing became uneven, forcing him to part his lips to catch enough air. It felt as though he might lose consciousness from nothing more than a touch on his arm—a place anyone could touch. Yet somehow Van made that simple contact feel dangerously intimate… unbearably warm… and filled with meaning.

 

Rak let out a shaky breath when Van’s palm finally settled over his own. The warmth and the turmoil passed from one hand to the other, as though Van were silently asking for help. Rak wanted to believe Van was sleepwalking.

He wanted to believe this was a dream. But everything felt too real. His touch. His gaze.

 

It was as though Van was telling him What I’m doing now doesn’t even compare to what I really want to do. And when their fingers intertwined…Their lips met for the very first time. Van was the one who closed the distance first. It was something Rak had never imagined could happen.

 

At first, the kiss was slow and tentative, filled with hesitation and uncertainty. But when Rak responded, it gradually deepened.

 

More certain.

More desperate.

More fearless.

 

Van had always said he’d never had a girlfriend, never been in love. But he’d never said anything about kissing. And this kiss made Rak wonder. Van’s movements were far too skilled for someone experiencing a first kiss. The kiss was both gentle and passionate at once. They melted into one another until Rak abandoned every lingering doubt, surrendered completely, and let himself be drawn against Van. It seemed to last forever.

 

Their hands wandered clumsily over each other. Rak wasn’t even sure where his own hands were anymore. But he was acutely aware of every place Van was touching him.

 

Van’s hand slid slowly along his back, from the bottom upward. Rak’s shirt had ridden up, allowing Van’s warm palm to rest directly against his bare skin. And he never took it away. Instead, he kept caressing him there, almost as if the contact helped calm his own nervousness.

 

Van seemed especially fond of the dip at the small of Rak’s back. Rak knew because he kept stroking that spot over and over again… His fingertips pressed gently into it. Sometimes no words left their mouths because this wasn’t a situation where words could communicate what they felt anymore. They only knew one thing: They didn’t want the kiss to end. They would pull away, only to press their lips together again. Over and over. As if they had lost control.

 

Something inside them was melting, while something else was awakening, rising uncontrollably. Rak wasn’t particularly surprised by what was happening to himself. But the interesting thing was the other person.

Their kisses were making Van hard as stone.

Rak remembered the feeling when he finally pulled away from the kiss. It was torture.

 

There was so much desire inside him that he wanted to fill the emptiness in both his heart and his body. He hadn’t felt this starved for something in a very long time, not even when he was with Karn; that had been something new. Something wild. A feeling of wanting to destroy and wanting to be destroyed. But it didn’t happen. They stopped.

 

They lay there looking at each other for a long time before Van disappeared into the bathroom, trying to convince himself that Rak lying outside was completely innocent. That Rak was already asleep. That he wasn’t lying there imagining what Van was doing in the bathroom for such a long time. After that, they never talked about it again.

 

Nobody mentioned the kiss.

Nobody mentioned the touches.

Nobody mentioned the physical reaction between them.

Nobody mentioned how they had curled up in each other’s arms until morning.

 

As if that night had only been a dream belonging to someone else.

 

“I don’t know what you want me to say.” Van avoided Rak’s eyes. He acted as if this conversation was exhausting him more than anything.

 

“I don’t know either. But at least you shouldn’t act like nothing happened, right?”

 

“Then what happened?”

 

“This isn’t the time to mess around, P’Van.”

Rak’s irritated tone sounded just like the last time they had argued. The difference was that this time Van thought Rak probably wouldn’t accept anything from him anymore.

 

“I’m not messing around. Just tell me—what is there to talk about?”

 

“Maybe try talking about how you felt when you intended to take me that night?”

 

“Rak!” Van half-whispered, half-shouted. His eyes darted around like he was secretly committing a crime inside his own bedroom.

 

“My parents are downstairs.”

 

“Oh! Your parents don’t know you’re gay?”

 

Rak pretended to be innocent, putting on an exaggeratedly clueless expression in front of Van.

 

“I’m… not gay.” Van lowered his voice.

 

“Straight men don’t get with other men.”

 

“Can you stop saying that already?”

 

Van sounded frustrated. He looked angry, annoyed, and nervous all at once. He didn’t look like the Van Rak knew.

 

“We didn’t even do anything. We just kissed, okay? It wasn’t anything.”

 

“Oh…” Rak spoke calmly. “So straight men kissing other men is normal now?”

 

“Rak… enough.”

 

“Have you ever kissed your friends before? P’Patee? P’Talay? P’Daeng? You must all kiss each other regularly then—”

 

“Rak!” Van shouted.

 

This time he no longer seemed to care whether his parents downstairs could hear. His face was bright red. This was the strongest anger Rak had ever seen from him. But Rak wasn’t afraid.

Instead, it made him feel overwhelmingly sad for him.

 

Van’s fear and confusion were tearing him apart. Rak understood that feeling. He knew what it was like to feel like a stranger inside your own body.

 

“Enough. Why do you keep bringing this up? What do you want from me? Do you want me to go crazy?”

 

“I don’t want you to go crazy.” Rak’s voice softened. “But I want you to admit that things between us aren’t the same anymore. I know you feel it too.”

 

“And why does that matter?” Van’s voice became defensive.

 

“I already dealt with the ghost for you. Your life has no obstacles anymore. You can go back to your boyfriend. You can live the life you want. So why are you coming after me? Why are you forcing me to answer?”

 

“You still haven’t said a single word denying that you feel something for me.”

 

Van inhaled deeply. Both hands lifted to rub over his face, as he had completely run out of options. Rak didn’t want to do this. He didn’t want to pressure Van into admitting anything. But he had already given him too much time, to the point where he felt like he was going insane. Rak had waited for Van to say something—anything—but there had been no sign that he would.

 

At the same time, Rak couldn’t even bring himself to message him. He convinced himself that something like this shouldn’t be discussed through chat. That was why he went to the Crow Club, only to find out that Van had already moved away without telling him a single word.

 

At first, Rak thought about letting it go. Letting go of everything. His feelings. And Van. Because Van’s actions were clear enough.

He didn’t want to talk about what happened. He wanted to disappear from Rak’s life. But every passing day became harder and harder to endure. Rak couldn’t stop thinking about it.

He wondered whether the future would be different if he did something. Maybe they had misunderstood each other. Maybe they were both too afraid and would end up missing the chance they had been searching for.

 

That was why Rak thought it wouldn’t be wrong to do something—to give himself a chance to move forward. To settle this unfinished feeling, so he could continue living without constantly wondering what that man truly felt about him. He just had to do something.

 

“P’Van.”

 

Rak moved closer to Van, who was sitting there with his head lowered, both hands holding his head. He gently touched Van’s knee. Deep down, he wanted to pull him into a comforting hug. But Rak forced himself to stop. Because he had promised himself he wouldn’t do anything like that again until he was certain.

 

“Just once.”

 

“What…”

 

Van lowered his hands onto his lap.

His voice was quiet.

 

“What do you want?”

 

“Kiss me,” Rak said firmly.

 

He stared directly into Van’s eyes, letting every intention and every feeling show openly. At this point, Rak felt like he had nothing left to lose. And if he truly had to lose Van, he would rather lose him without regrets.

 

“Rak, don’t do this…”

 

“Just once, P’Van. I’m asking for just once.”

Rak repeated himself.

 

“If after this kiss you still insist that it was just a mistake—”

 

“I never said it was a mistake.”

 

Suddenly, Van’s voice became firm. He interrupted Rak, even though his eyes were still trembling with fear.

 

“Okay.” Rak nodded.

 

He tried to pull himself back together after his thoughts had scattered for a moment when he heard those words.

 

“But I’m still asking the same thing. One kiss.”

“If in the end you still feel the same way, I won’t bring it up again. I won’t bother you anymore. I’ll act as if nothing happened. Everything you want."

 

Van didn’t accept. But he didn’t refuse either.

He looked down at Rak’s hand resting on his knee. Then he slowly placed his own hand over it. He gently squeezed. That alone was already a clear answer. Rak wasn’t afraid anymore. He moved closer and pressed his lips against the stubborn man in front of him, just as he had intended.

 

All the emotions that had been trapped inside him for weeks exploded in an instant. The moment their lips touched, Rak became even more certain that what he believed was true.

Both his own feelings and the feelings of the person in front of him. He hadn’t kissed many people. His romantic experience wasn’t extensive. But Rak was certain of one thing:

Nobody kissed someone like this if they felt nothing.

 

A simple squeeze of the hand became intertwined fingers. And intertwined fingers became a pull. Van pulled Rak closer. His other hand slipped beneath Rak’s hips. And everything fell perfectly into place when Rak stumbled forward, ending up straddling Van’s lap. They held onto each other tightly. Trading deep, consuming kisses. Until, at one moment, Van pulled away slightly and murmured:

 

“The door…” Rak immediately cut him off.

“It’s locked.”

 

Rak ran his fingers through Van’s silver hair, gripping and messing it up just like that night before. Because he knew it made Van feel good.

 

Van always made quiet sounds in his throat whenever Rak played with his hair. Van became more intense. Pulling, tasting, kissing as if he wanted to consume Rak completely. And Rak pressed himself closer, as if wanting their bodies to melt into one. He moved his hips slightly, wanting to feel whether that familiar reaction from before had returned.

 

“Ah…”

 

Rak made a frustrated sound when they finally had to stop. Both of them were breathing heavily. A thin thread of connection between their lips slowly broke apart, reluctantly. Rak saw Van clench his jaw tightly. He kept taking deep breaths, trying desperately to hold himself back. Rak understood. He knew.

 

Rak climbed down from Van’s lap and sat beside him. But he still couldn’t take his eyes off him. Because even now… He still hadn’t received the answer.

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

That was the answer Van chose. But when the moment actually arrived… It wasn’t easy. Would it be wrong if Rak admitted he didn’t want that answer? If he complained, would that mean he had broken his promise? He had said he would accept everything. Because deep down, Rak believed he could change Van’s mind. He was that confident in himself.

But since when had he become this confident?

 

“Rak…”

 

Van’s voice softened when he saw Rak starting to cry. He turned toward him, but this time Rak kept turning away, as if he didn't want Van to see even a single tear.

 

“If you really want to hear it… I’ll say it. I like you, Rak. Okay? I’m not lying anymore.”

 

“No… don’t say it anymore…”

 

The kinder Van was to him, the harder Rak sobbed. He raised his hands to cover his face, trying to turn away from Van, but he couldn’t escape.

 

”…Don’t comfort me.”

 

“No, Rak. I’m not comforting you.”

 

Van grabbed Rak’s wrists tightly, trying to pull his hands away from his face. But at that moment, Van noticed something on Rak’s wrist. That bracelet… The one Van had bought when they went out together for the first time.

He had never seen Rak wear it before.

 

“Rak already knows that no matter what… you won’t change your mind.”

 

Van couldn’t stand talking to the back of Rak’s hands anymore. He pulled both of Rak’s hands away and held them together like a police officer restraining a criminal. The face covered in tears was revealed in front of him. And Van finally realised that Rak was crying harder because of him. Not because of the ghost Rak had always claimed he was so afraid of.

 

“Yes. I won’t change my mind.”

 

Van said those words directly to Rak. Rak closed his eyes and looked away, as if he didn’t want to acknowledge them. Then tears streamed down his cheeks.

 

“I like you, Rak. I like you a lot. You’re the first person who has ever made me feel this way. But so what? It doesn’t change anything. Because if I have to choose right now, between you and Japan… I would still choose Japan.”

 

“I never told you to choose…” Rak whispered.

He wanted to wipe away his tears, but Van was still holding his hands.

 

”…I never said you had to choose.”

 

“How can I not choose?”

 

Van’s voice broke.

 

“Rak is here. I’m going to Japan. How can you say I don’t have to choose?”

 

At some point, he couldn’t hold it in anymore.

Everything he had kept buried inside came pouring out. It was Rak’s fault. Rak was the one who had pressed the switch even though Van had warned him again and again that it was dangerous.

 

“Don’t you understand the situation yet? I’m choosing something else over you. I didn’t hesitate even once. The moment I got your money, I was going to leave.”

 

“It’s your dream. Why shouldn’t you go?”

 

“Exactly. So why would you still want me?”

Van’s voice trembled.

 

“Even if we agreed to date, what happens next? I’m not going to be here. I know the thing you want most is having someone beside you. But I can’t give you that.”

 

“When you’re sitting alone, eating alone… when you say you have nobody… I still can’t be that person for you. Do you really think something like that would work?”

 

Rak couldn’t hear anything anymore. He just kept shaking his head and crying.

 

“Choose someone who can take care of you, Rak.”

 

Van’s voice became softer.

 

“Choose someone ready. You already know what you need. So choose that.”

 

“And right now, I believe we both know that person is Karn. He’s a good person. He loves you. He can be there with you. That’s what matters most.”

 

“You don’t have the right to tell me what I should choose.”

 

The words sounded strong. But Rak was sobbing so hard that he could barely finish the sentence. The more Van tried to wipe his tears away, the harder he cried.

 

“Fine. You choose then. Whatever makes you comfortable.”

 

“Choose you.”

 

“No, don’t say that…”

 

Van complained, but his arms wrapped around Rak anyway. He wanted Rak to stop crying. And he was terrible at comforting people. This was the only thing he could think of doing.

 

“Do I have to say it directly? That I don’t want to date you?”

 

Rak’s sobs turned into full-blown crying. Van slapped his own forehead hard. I’m really terrible at comforting people.

 

“If we date and don’t get to see each other often… I can’t do it, Rak. You have to understand me too. Even just not seeing you for two or three weeks already made me feel like I was drying up and dying in this house. What about years? I don’t have money to fly back and see you all the time either, you know.”

 

“I’ll fly myself.”

 

“Just try surviving university first, kid.”

 

“You’re such an asshole…”

 

Rak buried his face into Van’s shoulder. Then he started throwing out every insult he could think of that suited Van.

 

“You’re the worst. Your personality is completely dog-like. You’re only good at thinking about yourself. Everything has to be what you want. You said you meant to kiss me, but after kissing me you disappeared. You say you like me, but you still refuse to date me. Who the hell do you think you are, P’Van?”

Rak’s voice was muffled against his shoulder.

 

“I hope those Japanese ghosts haunt you every night. Don’t sleep. Ever. You bastard.”