Everyone arrived at the shop around 7 p.m. Laughter spilled from the open doorway of the Korean BBQ café, mixing with the sound of clinking glasses and sizzling meat.
I pulled up on my Honda CB150R Exmotion, parking just a little down the block. I was late — not by much, just enough to feel it. Had stopped by the bank to withdraw some cash. Digital is cool and all, but you never know. Always carry backup, I said to myself.
Walking in, I spotted the team spread across a long table near the back. The grill smoked gently in the middle, plates of kimchi and banchan everywhere. Nok was already on her second glass of soju, flushed and loud, laughing with the camera techs.
There was only one empty seat left — right between Phi Tann and Phuwadon.
Seriously?
I gave a small nod to the team and slid into the seat. Phuwadon was glued to his phone, thumb scrolling, not even a flicker of acknowledgment. Phi Tann glanced sideways. "Where'd you go?"
"Just grabbed something," I said casually.
"All good?"
I nodded. "Yeah, all good."
Suddenly, Phuwadon turned, eyes still half-lidded, and said with that calm, low voice,"I thought you went missing in action."
I blinked, caught off guard. Smirked. "Why do you care?"
He smiled — a real one this time — leaned in just slightly, and whispered, "Of course I care… about you."
Boom. My heart did that weird skip-beat thing. Did he just—?
I leaned back, staring at him in disbelief. His face was unreadable, like always, except for that tiny lift at the corner of his lips.
Before I could respond, I grabbed a glass of soju and downed it. Bad idea.
I forgot my alcohol tolerance was terrible.
Warmth flooded my face instantly. Everything got a little fuzzy around the edges.
"Don't get drunk just yet," Phi Tann chuckled. "Eat something, rookie."
There were trays of crispy fried chicken on the table — but just out of reach. I awkwardly leaned over, trying not to look like I was struggling.
Then, a plate appeared in front of me.Two golden pieces, perfectly placed.
I looked up.
Phuwadon. Expression neutral, holding the plate out as if it was no big deal.
"Here," he said.
I took the plate, managing a quiet, "Thanks."
He didn't respond. Just turned back to his phone.
But for a second — just a second — our fingers brushed.
And I swear, even with the buzz from the soju, the noise from the room, and the heat of the grill…
I felt it.
Something shifted.
Chapter: Tension & Truths
The night blurred around me —laughter, glass clinks, side conversations slipping into playful arguments. Someone knocked over a bottle of soju. Nok nearly cried from laughing.
And here I was, stuck between a drunk Phi Tann… and Phuwadon, who had decided — very subtly — to hold my hand under the table.
I didn't even know when it started. His fingers lightly looped through mine, resting just beneath the table edge between our chairs, like it was casual.
It wasn't.
He didn't even look at me.
I tried pulling away — gently at first — but his grip didn't budge. No pressure, no squeezing. Just a quiet refusal to let go.
What are you doing? I didn't say it out loud.
Instead, I leaned forward, tapping Phi Tann's shoulder.
"Washroom," I muttered.
He nodded lazily, half-asleep from all the soju. Phuwadon let go without a word.
I walked fast — maybe too fast — into the restroom, closed the stall door, and sat on the lid.
My head spun — maybe from the drinks, maybe from him. What was he trying to do? Was this a joke? Was he teasing? Or was he drunk and mistaking me for someone else?
Or worse… Was I starting to hope?
My phone buzzed. Paa.
I answered immediately. "Yes, Paa?"
His voice was tired, but familiar. Steady."How's everything?"
I smiled, even if he couldn't see it. "It's good. The team is fun. I'm trying to keep up."
"And you?" I asked.
He exhaled. "Alive."
That stabbed more than I expected.
"Paa…" I swallowed. "Don't say that. You're not alone. Me, Mayuree — we love you. Just like we love Mae."
Silence. Then a quiet: "Okay."
Before hanging up, I added, "Love you."
"…Love you too."
The line went dead. I closed my eyes and just breathed for a moment. Let the ache settle.
Then the bathroom door creaked open.
I stood, stepped out to the sink — and froze.
Phuwadon.
Leaning casually against the opposite wall, arms folded, watching me like he was waiting for something.
I tried not to react. Walked to the sink. Washed my hands.
His gaze never left.
"Why are you staring?" I finally asked, trying to keep my tone neutral.
He stepped forward — uncomfortably close. I leaned back a little instinctively. "What?"
He raised a brow. "Who?"
"What, who?"
"Who was on the phone just now?"
I frowned. "Why do you care?"
He didn't answer. Just stepped even closer, now standing shoulder to shoulder with me, eyes locked.
I stiffened. "It was my father. Why?"
He tilted his head. "Do boys say 'I love you' to their fathers?"
His voice wasn't mocking. Just… confused. A little harsh, maybe. Defensive, even.
"Yes," I said, more firmly than I intended. "In my family, we do."
That caught him off guard. His lips parted like he wanted to respond — but nothing came out.
I sighed. "What's your deal anyway? Asking questions, grabbing my hand like I'm your boyfriend or something. You've known me for, what, two days?"
I didn't mean to pout, but I felt cornered. Exposed.
And then… he laughed.
Like, genuinely laughed. Deep and smooth, but short — like I surprised him.
I blinked. "What's so funny?"
He leaned down, lips close to my ear.
"Cute."
I jerked back, eyes wide. "Don't call me cute! I'm handsome!"
He smirked.
Then — as if he hadn't just scrambled my whole brain — he turned and walked out.
Leaving me alone with the scent of soap, fluorescent lights, and my heart pounding like I'd just run a mile.
Ride or Fight
By the time I stepped outside, most of the team was scattering.
Nok was wobbling toward her boyfriend's car, shouting something about spicy noodles and love songs. Phi Tann caught my eye and waved from across the parking lot.
"I'm heading off first," he called. "Early shoot tomorrow."
"Okay," I nodded. "Goodnight, Phi."
He gave me a little salute and vanished into his car, leaving me… alone. Surrounded by a few half-drunk strangers and leftover laughter.
I sighed and turned toward my — my Honda CB150R, parked at the far end. A quiet exit. Ten minutes and I'd be home.
Then I noticed it.
A massive black SUV parked way too close to my ride, blocking just enough space to make it annoying.
I muttered, "Who parked this big-ass car here?"
As I walked toward it, I spotted Phuwadon, standing near the doorway, talking to his manager.
Of course.
I headed toward them. "Excuse me, can you move your car? I need to get my bike out."
Before his manager could respond, Phuwadon stepped forward and grabbed my wrist.
"I'll drop you."
I pulled my hand back slightly. "No. It's fine."
"Yes," he said, not even blinking.
I frowned. "I said no."
He didn't argue. He just… reached into my hand, snatched my bike key, and turned around — handing it to his manager without saying a word.
I stood there, stunned. Not angry. Not embarrassed. Just completely thrown off.
"Hey—what the hell, Phu!"
He didn't respond. He walked over to the passenger side, opened the door, and waited.
For me.
No drama. No sweet-talking. Just… silence and an open door.
I looked at the key in his manager's hand. At the SUV. At him.
And with no other real option — no logic, just tiredness and confusion mixing with the soju still in my system — I got in.
He shut the door behind me, walked around, and slid into the driver's seat. Started the engine. Said nothing.
Just drove.
No music. No conversation. Just the quiet hum of the road and the low AC blowing gently in the cabin.
I didn't ask him where we were going. I assumed he knew my address.
I sat there with my arms crossed, lips tight, brain yelling at me.
This is not normal.
But something in me… wasn't angry.
Just confused. Very confused.
Was this control? Was this care?
Or… was this something else?
He didn't look at me the whole time.
Not until the first red light, when the car slowed and he finally spoke:
"You're not good with alcohol," he said.
I turned slowly to him. "You noticed?"
He smirked. "You ate two pieces of chicken and half a lettuce leaf. Of course, I noticed."
I bit my lip. "Still doesn't give you the right to hijack my keys."
"No," he admitted. "But I'm not sorry."
We locked eyes. Something flickered between us — soft and sharp, warm and confusing.
The light turned green. He drove on.
I leaned back in the seat.
Still confused.
Still kind of… not mad.
Why Are You Here?
We arrived around 11 PM. Bangkok was quieter now. The streetlights are humming. The sky was dark and heavy.
And me?
Mentally and physically drained.
From the drinking.From the overthinking. From him — whatever he was doing.
I decided: Once we reach my place, I'm going to ask him. No more guessing. If anything goes wrong, I can just run inside. Lock the door. Done.
We pulled up to Scope Promsri, my small but comfortable place. Studio-sized, fourth floor. It was enough. It was mine.
Just before we turned into the condo's front gate, I looked over at him and asked — carefully:
"Why are you acting like this?"
Silence.
"Is it just teasing? You enjoy messing with the newbie?"
Still nothing.
I sighed, sharper this time. "Are you gonna tell me or what?"
That's when he pulled over. Right in front of the lobby.
I blinked. "Why are you parking the car?"
He got out without answering, walked over, opened my door, and looked down at me.
"Come out."
I stepped out slowly. "Uh… thanks."
I didn't bother asking again. What was the point?
He wasn't going to answer.
I walked toward the condo entrance. He followed.
I turned around, nervous. "Thank you for dropping me. I can walk from here."
He looked me in the eye and repeated, flatly, "Walk."
And I… walked. Like some part of me obeyed before I even thought about it.
We got into the lift. He stood beside me, hands in his pockets, eyes forward.
He asked, "Floor?"
"Four."
He pressed the button. The air between us? Heavy. Like a storm about to happen.
Ding.
We reached.
I turned again, holding my door card. "Really… you can go. I'll be okay."
"Let's go," he said again.
I didn't stop him.
We reached my unit. I typed in the passcode. The door unlocked with a soft beep.
He stepped inside behind me like he knew the place.
I stared. "What… are you doing?"
He slipped off his shoes neatly and walked over to my small gray sofa.
Sat.
Looked at me.
And then, with that calm, unreadable voice, said—
"Please sit down."
I stood frozen. Staring at him.
In my apartment.
On my couch.
Ordering me to sit down like he lived here.
I looked around the room. Then back at him.
"…Whose house is this again?"
Something or Nothing
I sat down. My legs were tense. My mind is even more.
He leaned forward slightly on the couch, elbows on his knees, then said plainly:
"Okay. Ask me your question."
I swallowed.
"Why are you acting like this?"
He tilted his head a little. "Why do you think?"
I sighed. "I really don't know. You tease way too much. One minute you're cold, the next—"I shook my head. "It's confusing."
"I'm not teasing," he said, still calm.
I stared at him. "Then…?"
He looked me dead in the eye.
"What do you think it means, Ian?"
My heart was pounding. This feels dangerous. Like standing on the edge of something I don't fully understand.
He smirked when he saw me hesitate.
"You look cute when you're confused," he said.
I blinked. "…What?"
He shrugged. "I was thinking maybe… we could be something."
"Something?" I echoed. "Like what?"
He didn't answer immediately. Instead, he looked around casually and said:
"Can I get a glass of water?"
I stood, mumbling under my breath, "Who's this guy, ordering me around in my own house?"
I walked to the kitchen, which faced the sofa — and sure enough, he was watching me.
Smiling.
"Cute," he said again.
I turned. "What?"
"Nothing," he replied, way too fast.
I handed him the glass.
He passed me his phone.
"Key in your number."
I blinked. "For what?"
He said, "I'll message you the reason I have to leave. I know you're dying to know."
I hesitated for a second. Then keyed it in.
He stood, walked toward the door, and slipped on his shoes.
I followed to make sure he was leaving.
He leaned down to tie his laces.
Then, suddenly, he stood upright. Close.
Too close.
Our faces were just a breath apart.
He looked at me for a moment and said, "Cute."
Again.
Then added softly, "Sleep well."
He turned and walked out.
And I?
I just stood there.
Heart in my throat.Mind racing.Phone in my hand.
I knew it. I knew this was going to be a big mess.
A Call, A Plan, A Smile
After my shower, I flopped onto the bed, hair still damp, towel hanging off my shoulders.
I texted my sister — mostly to vent about tonight.
She sent back: "You're not dreaming, right? He really came into your house?!! 😳😳😳"
I replied: "Not a dream. Still confused tho."Girl. Be careful. Or don't. Just text me if you end up married."
I laughed. Typical Mayuree.
Then my phone rang.
Unknown number.
I stared at it. Didn't pick up.Rang again.
I squinted. No way.
Third time.
I sighed and answered. "What?"
No reply.
"Hello? What is it?"
Then a voice:"…Phi?"
I frowned. "Phi? What phi?"
Silence again.
I rolled my eyes. "Yes, Phi Phu, how can I help you?"
Finally, he spoke: "What are you doing?"
This cracked-head drama prince actually wants me to call him "Phi" now?
I said flatly, "Just got out of the shower. Watching something. Why?"
He asked, "Have you eaten?"
I replied, "Yes. With you. At the café. If you remember."
Pause.
"So," I said, "Why are you calling me?"
He didn't waste time."Are you free tomorrow?"
I blinked. "Uhhh… so far nothing planned. Why?"
"I'll be there at 10 a.m. Be ready. We're going out."
I shot upright. "I never agreed to anything! I was planning to laze around, drink bad coffee and stare at my walls."
I knew he was smiling. I could feel the smug through the phone.
"I'll be there at 9:50," he said."Wear something nice."Then hung up.
I stared at my phone in disbelief. Tried calling back.
No answer.
I flopped back down on the bed. Groaned into my pillow."This guy is killing me," I muttered to the ceiling.
Then a buzz.
Text from him:"I'll be there. Be ready. Wear something nice."
I didn't reply.
I just smiled.