[PRESENT]
Daotok spotted the sleek black car from a distance. It stood out unmistakably, its polished surface gleaming under the daylight, a stark contrast against the mundane vehicles parked around it. Its streamlined design, glossy finish, and undoubtedly exorbitant price tag made it an instant attention magnet. He didn't need to ask; he already knew the owner.
The presence beside him—warm, familiar, and undeniably possessive—left no room for doubt. The arm draped over his shoulders belonged to none other than Arthit. As they walked toward the car, Daotok couldn't help but notice the way people turned their heads, some even pausing to snap pictures.
Three different passersby had already taken photos by the time they reached the vehicle. The weight of lingering gazes only intensified as they came to a halt in front of it. Then, just as suddenly as it had settled over him, the warmth disappeared.
Arthit shifted away, and Daotok keenly felt the absence, as if the man had taken the heat of his body with him. The cool air pressed in where his touch had been moments before. Without a word, Arthit handed back Daotok's phone and earphones before moving to the driver's side.
Daotok hesitated, something pressing at the back of his mind—a request he'd been holding onto since he first laid eyes on the car. "Um, could you do me a favor?"
Arthit, already opening the door, turned to him. "What is it?"
"Can you pick up Mr. Jeon for me?"
At that, Arthit's lips curled into a smirk. "You mean this guy?" He motioned toward the passenger seat and pulled the door open.
Daotok frowned, confused, until he noticed the round, black pet carrier resting on the seat. His breath hitched as he caught sight of the familiar golden eyes peering up at him from inside Mr. Jeon.
The moment recognition clicked, Daotok reached out, unfastening the carrier and scooping up the feline in one swift motion. Mr. Jeon meowed softly, his body warm and comforting against Daotok's chest as he buried his nose into the cat's fur, inhaling the scent he had missed.
"You already picked him up?" Daotok's voice, usually measured, betrayed a hint of happiness.
Arthit leaned against the car, arms crossed, observing him with amusement. "Surprised?"
Daotok nodded slightly, finally noticing the slightly lowered car window— undoubtedly left open for Mr. Jeon's comfort. He glanced back at Arthit just as he spoke again.
"So, what do I get?"
"What?"
"A score." Arthit's smirk deepened. "Hypothetically, if getting you to like me was worth a hundred points, how many do I get for this?"
Daotok barely hesitated. "None."
"What?" Arthit groaned, ruffling his own hair in exasperation. "Then why the hell did I bother sitting through traffic to pick him up from Fah's place? I should've just waited until Sunday for Fah to bring him over." He stuffed his hands into his pockets, looking put out.
Daotok glanced at him before murmuring, "You get my gratitude."
Arthit perked up immediately. "And where's my thank you?"
"Thank you."
"Thank you, who?"
Daotok sighed. "Thank you, P' Arthit."
Arthit grinned. "Now, smile."
"Do I have to?"
"Yeah." Daotok gave him the smallest, most reluctant smile he could manage.
"Ah, that feels rewarding," Arthit mused, nodding in satisfaction. "But the score? Not even one?"
"Zero." Arthit shrugged, seeming unfazed, and walked around to the driver's side. Daotok, still cradling Mr. Jeon, climbed into the car. The engine purred to life, and the black vehicle glided smoothly out of the parking lot. Despite its powerful engine, the car barely moved faster than a crawl, stuck in the usual university traffic.
Arthit drummed his fingers impatiently against the steering wheel, his irritation apparent. "My dad invited us over for dinner," he said abruptly. Daotok stiffened.
"You can't say no, so don't even think about it."
"Why did he invite me?"
Arthit shot him a side glance. "Well, I told him I like you, so he invited you over."
"Oh." Even if Arthit hadn't said refusing wasn't an option, Daotok wasn't sure he could have turned down the invitation.
The car inched forward at a frustrating pace. Soft music played in the background, a track from Daotok's playlist.
Arthit, seemingly resigned to the slow-moving traffic, suddenly held out his phone toward him. "Your hand."
"Huh?"
"Give me your hand." His tone left no room for argument. Daotok hesitated but ultimately extended his hand. At first, he didn't like the way Arthit's fingers wrapped around his own, firm and unyielding. But as time passed, he found himself growing accustomed to the sensation.
By now, it no longer felt strange. It was terrifying how easily one could get used to someone's touch. Arthit's thumb idly traced circles on Daotok's skin, his grip alternating between lacing their fingers together and shifting his hold.
"Traffic like this is stressful, you know?" he muttered. "But I think it's okay now."
"You always say cheesy things," Daotok noted.
"Of course. I'm flirting with you." Arthit smirked. "Take my phone and snap a picture for me."
"Of what?"
"Our hands."
"No."
"Do it."
"Fine." Daotok let Mr. Jeon settle in his lap before picking up Arthit's phone. There was no passcode. His lock screen was just a plain black background. Opening the camera, Daotok took a photo of their intertwined hands, the car's gear console visible in the background.
"Let me see." Arthit leaned over to inspect it. A grin spread across his face. "Looks like a couple's hands."
"We're not a couple."
"Not yet. Post it on Instagram for me."
Daotok sighed. "People are going to misunderstand."
"And what's wrong with that?"
"We're not even dating."
"They don't know who it is anyway. But if you want them to, I'll tag you."
"You have Instagram?"
"I just followed you. Didn't notice, huh?"
"I don't really check."
"Follow me back."
"Do I have to?"
"Yes. Come on, just follow me. I'm so damn good-looking."
"..."
"Did you post it yet?"
"No."
"Post it now."
Daotok stared at Arthit's profile—nearly 100,000 followers. His own art account had around 30,000, which he had considered decent. But Arthit's popularity was undeniable, each post a carefully curated snapshot of his face, his physique, his lifestyle.
"If you don't post it, I can't guarantee your safety for the next three nights," Arthit warned playfully.
Daotok exhaled sharply. "What caption?"
"One red heart."
"Fine." As soon as he posted it, likes flooded in. He locked the phone and handed it back, but the traffic light turned green, so he kept hold of it instead.
The moment Arthit let go of his hand to shift gears, Daotok returned to holding Mr. Jeon.
"Seriously? The second I let go, you grab the cat?"
"He's male."
"Jealous. I'll eat him."
"Don't hurt Mr. Jeon."
"Too late. I've already grabbed his balls once."
"You're mean."
"But he seems to like me."
Daotok huffed. "Mr. Jeon can sense who loves animals."
Arthit smirked. "Yeah, me. I love animals. I love you too. Love you to death."
Daotok stood still, his usual confident demeanor faltering for a brief moment as the words hung in the air. He opened his mouth to speak but hesitated, his lips parting but no sound coming out.
His usually piercing gaze softened, his face betraying a slight flush that he quickly tried to suppress.
"Silent now?" came the teasing voice, rich with amusement, as a smirk tugged at the corner of Arthit's lips. "Are you blushing, Daotok?"
The question hit him like a jolt of electricity, his heartbeat quickening in his chest. He tried to steady himself, but the warmth spreading across his cheeks gave him away. Daotok wasn't used to being caught off guard, least of all by words that didn't follow the usual cold, detached patterns of his life.
His voice finally broke the silence, but it was laced with uncertainty. "Your confession is... strange."
A soft chuckle followed, smooth and confident. Arthit moved closer, his presence overwhelming, the air thickening between them. "That's the point," he said, his tone low, almost intimate. "Treasure it, because you'll never hear it from anyone else."
Daotok felt the weight of those words settle deep within him, their meaning both unsettling and undeniable. He struggled to find something to say, but for once, no words escaped him, leaving only the heat of their gaze and the strange flutter in his chest.
✨✨✨✨
Arthit steered the car into the garage at the front of the house rather than taking the longer route around back. He wasn't in the mood for unnecessary detours today.
As soon as he cut the engine and stepped out, one of the housekeepers approached, reaching for the small cat in Daotok's arms. "Let me take care of it for now," she offered with a polite smile.
Arthit watched as Daotok handed the feline over without hesitation, as if this was already routine. The cat, much like its owner, remained completely unbothered, neither resisting nor showing any interest in the exchange.
It allowed itself to be carried off without a single complaint. When Arthit reached out and gave its soft belly a playful poke, the creature merely blinked at him with the same unimpressed look Daotok often gave when indulging Arthit's antics.
A low chuckle left his throat. "This cat's just like you," he muttered. Before he could get a response, the familiar presence of Direk approached, a warm smile gracing his features.
To most people, Direk was the image of a respectable businessman—well-dressed, kind, and effortlessly charismatic, the kind of man others instinctively relied on. But Arthit knew better. The version of Direk that the world saw was just one of many facets. It wasn't an act, not exactly.
Rather, Direk had mastered the art of adapting to his surroundings, shifting seamlessly into the role the situation demanded. It was something he often reminded Arthit of: "People behave differently depending on who they're with.
It's not deception—it's survival." Now, Direk's gaze flickered between Arthit and Daotok, a glint of curiosity in his eyes as he pressed his palms together in a polite greeting. Daotok responded in kind, offering the same quiet respect.
"You must be surprised I invited you over," Direk said, his tone light but perceptive.
"Yes."
"I figured as much." Direk's smile widened. "I was honestly shocked when Thit mentioned you. I've been around this kid for over twenty years, and this is the first time he's ever said something like this. Naturally, I had to see for myself. You understand, don't you?"
"Yes."
"Good. Come in." Arthit followed as Direk led them into the house.
As expected, the dining table was already set, the neatly arranged dishes waiting for them. This was standard whenever Arthit came home for dinner.
If Direk were alone, he preferred eating in the kitchen alongside the staff, but when his son was home, he took the time to make it more formal. It was an unspoken habit, one Arthit never questioned. If anyone wondered why he brought Daotokalong so easily—despite the fact that Direk had been the one to extend the invitation—the answer was simple.
Arthit wanted him to meet Direk, the only family he had. His friends had already met him. The only missing piece in the puzzle of Arthit's life was this introduction. He wanted Daotok to see everything, to know exactly who Arthit was, no embellishments, no hiding.
Just him. And, knowing Direk, he likely understood this too. After all, they had spent over two decades together. If Arthit was willing to introduce someone, it meant that person held significant weight in his life. It meant that person was going to be his last.
As they settled at the table, Direk wasted no time breaking into conversation. "I suppose I can't ask how you two started dating, since you're not exactly official yet," he mused. "Thit's still chasing after you, isn't he?"
"That's what he says," Daotok responded quietly.
"Are you okay with it?" Direk asked, his gaze sharp yet kind. "He's... not like most people, you know. Must be exhausting dealing with him. I apologize on behalf of my son. He's stubborn, ill-mannered, and his mouth could use some work."
Arthit scoffed. "Hey, why are you insulting me?"
"What? I'm just stating facts." Direk turned back to Daotok. "By the way, has Thit been speaking rudely to you?"
"He does," Daotok answered before Arthit could.
"How rude?"
"Pretty normal."
"See? He's rude by nature. And yet he's trying to win you over?" Direk gave Daotok a look of disbelief. "You put up with that?"
Daotok tilted his head slightly. "Yeah, why not? It feels pretty natural."
Arthit smirked. "See? He says it's natural."
Direk shook his head. "Wow. Extraordinary." The easy banter continued, dipping between teasing jabs and more serious inquiries. Direk's amusement was evident, though there was also a depth to his words—subtle tests meant to gauge the weight of this connection.
"How long have you been trying to win him over?" Direk asked.
Arthit chuckled. "Not sure. When did I say I liked you again?"
"A few days ago," Daotok replied, voice steady.
"And are you tired yet?" Direk asked.
Arthit scoffed. "He's not tired."
"I wasn't asking you," Direk shot back. "Are you tired of having Thit chase after you?"
"I'm not tired," Daotok admitted. "But I am annoyed."
Direk let out a bark of laughter. "Brutally honest! Feeling hurt yet?"
Arthit shrugged. "I've had worse."
"Man, my kid's getting totally crushed," Direk muttered, shaking his head with a chuckle. "It's not a total loss. The real failure would be breaking the agreement."
"What agreement?"
Arthit smirked. "We agreed that since you plan to stay single your whole life, I'd stick around. You're the one who decided you'd never have a partner."
Daotok blinked, his expression unreadable. "Oh, so this is working in your favor, then?"
Arthit shrugged, his lips curling into a lazy smirk. "Exactly."
"And why don't you want anyone in your life?" Direk asked Daotok.
"I just don't want anyone."
"Not even this idiot here?" Direk nodded toward Arthit.
"No."
"And yet you're still shameless about it," Direk said, amused, before turning to Daotok.
"What? I just want to be with him. What's wrong with that?"
"You're so stubborn," Direk laughed. "But I like this. If it's not too much trouble for you, I'd really like you to give him a chance. He's my son, after all. And while he can be rude, he's incapable of deceit. He's honestly just a straightforward idiot."
Daotok chuckled softly. "Yeah, I've realized he's not the type to lie."
Arthit smirked. "You know me that well already? Might as well date me."
Direk raised an eyebrow. "Is that allowed?"
"It's all allowed. If I ask him out ten times a day, he might say yes once without thinking," Arthit said, watching as Daotok furrowed his brows, clearly deep in thought. "You're probably thinking you need to be extra careful now, huh?"
Daotok exhaled. "Yeah, I'll make sure not to nod or agree to anything."
"Haha, good. Stay on guard."
"What a pair," Direk muttered, shaking his head lightly before shifting the conversation to Daotok's work and studies.
Arthit half-listened, idly scrolling through Instagram. He checked to see if Daotok had posted the picture as he had suggested. He had. Satisfaction curled in his chest. It looked just like a couple's post—a pity no one knew the truth.
Yet. Soon enough, Arthit would post a candid shot of Daotok himself. That'd mark his territory for sure. His eyes flicked to Daotok's hands—small but not too soft, worn from writing. Yet they fit perfectly in his own.
"You're really smart. Back in high school, Thit was nothing like this, such a troublemaker," Direk commented.
"What are you gossiping about?" Arthit asked without looking up.
"Lift your head from your screen for once. I was just telling him how much of a delinquent you were."
Arthit shrugged. "Typical." The conversation drifted toward art. Daotok, hesitant at first, showed Direk some of his work. The older man flipped through the pictures with genuine interest.
Arthit found himself feeling oddly proud that Direk appreciated Daotok's style. Then, casually, Arthit brought up something more personal. "Hey, Mom's unfinished painting. It's still around, right?"
Direk stilled. "What's that?"
"The one she didn't finish," Arthit clarified. "I asked Dao to complete it."
Direk immediately looked up at him, his expression unreadable. "To finish it just the way Mom intended," Arthit continued.
"Really?" Direk turned to Daotok for confirmation.
"Yes. I'll try my best to make it as close as possible to what she envisioned," Daotok replied earnestly.
Direk exhaled, a small but warm smile appearing on his lips. "If you're on board, I have no objections. Thank you. Once it's done, please show it to me."
Arthit glanced at Daotok, who looked slightly overwhelmed. The gratitude swelled in his chest. Having Daotok in his life had been nothing but a blessing.
Then, as if the moment wasn't sentimental enough, Direk suddenly declared, "I really like my future son-in-law. You've picked well, Thit."
Daotok opened his mouth as if to object but quickly shut it, making
Arthit grin. "Right? So, what do you think? Should we make it official?"
"Sure, go ahead. I'll even go to Italy to get a suit tailored," Direk joked.
Arthit smirked. "Does it have to be that far? Can I at least pick the venue?" The banter continued, laughter filling the room.
Eventually, they finished eating, and Direk walked them to the car. "See you again sometime," Direk said.
"Sure. Take care of your health, sir," Daotok replied politely.
"Alright, good luck," Direk nodded. Then, glancing at Arthit, he added, "Drive safely. And don't let him faint on the way."
"I know, I know," Arthit waved him off as they headed to the car. As the engine hummed to life, Arthit stole a glance at Daotok. "So, how was it?"
Daotok hesitated, then replied, "It was good."
"Not uncomfortable?"
"Not at all."
Arthit grinned. "That's how my dad is. You okay with it?"
Daotok gave a small nod. "Yeah."
Arthit relaxed, a rare warmth settling in his chest. "Good."
"Why did you bring me?" Daotok's voice was quiet but firm.
Arthit turned his head slightly, raising a brow. "Huh?"
"Why did you bring me... even though..." Daotok trailed off, searching for the right words.
"Oh?" Arthit let out a chuckle, tilting his head at him. "Why are you only asking now? Why didn't you ask before we came?"
"I forgot."
Arthit shook his head with a small, amused smile. "Well, I wanted you to see everything about me as I truly am. This is my dad. My family. That's all there is—no secrets. If anyone dares say I'm not serious about you, I'd kick them in the face."
Daotok blinked, as if surprised by the declaration. "Ah... I see. But..."
"But what?"
"The band."
Arthit let out a small laugh as he remembered their conversation with Direk. "Oh, the high school band?" He exhaled, running a hand through his hair. "I don't usually tell anyone about this, but I promised I wouldn't keep secrets from you. You know I played the drums, right?"
"Yeah."
"I want to make music."
Daotok didn't respond right away. Instead, he simply looked at him, waiting.
Arthit hesitated before continuing, his voice carrying a rare vulnerability. "I mean, my real dream... if you don't count studying medicine because of my mom. I've loved playing the drums and guitar since I was a kid. In high school, I moved to Thailand, but during breaks, I'd go back to San Francisco and make music with my friends. It got fairly popular locally, but it fizzled out since I had to keep returning here."
"That's a shame." Arthit gave a half-hearted shrug. "Why did you decide to study medicine?"
"When I was a kid, I promised my mom I'd become a doctor to take care of her. It stuck with me, I guess."
Daotok glanced at him, a thoughtful look passing through his eyes. "If you fulfill that promise... would you go back to making music?"
"I'm not sure. It's been so long."
"Ah." Silence stretched between them for a few moments before Arthit smirked.
"Hey, if I started making music again, would you be interested in being my guitarist?"
Daotok's gaze flickered toward him, unreadable as always. "I don't know."
"If you'd be my guitarist, I'm starting to feel like trying it out again," Arthit teased, raising his eyebrows at him. Daotok, as usual, remained calm, his expression barely changing. "But I guess those guys won't come back to it. Everyone's gone their separate ways."
"I see."
Arthit sighed. "You're the one who asked me, but you don't seem interested at all."
Daotok tilted his head slightly. "I'd like to listen."
"To what?"
"The songs you made." Arthit nodded toward the car. "Check my phone. I named them something like 'My Songs.'"
His phone had been left inside after playing music on the drive over. Daotok retrieved it, scrolling through before selecting a track. As the first song played, a strange, almost nostalgic feeling washed over Arthit.
It was as if the past was reaching out to pull him back. "Is this you on drums?" Daotok asked.
"Yeah, that's me."
"I like it."
Arthit grinned. "You like me?"
"The drumbeat."
"Of course, it's flawless."
"Mm." Daotok's fingers idly traced the screen as he listened. "Who worked on this song?"
"Mostly me."
"That's impressive."
"You're just flattering me," Arthit muttered, though his lips twitched with the hint of a smile. They listened in comfortable silence as the song played to the end. Then another. And another. "Well? Any comments?" Arthit finally asked.
"They're really good," Daotok admitted, his voice softer than usual. "I want to hear more. If you were an artist, I'd tell you to go back to making music."
Arthit let out a small laugh, shaking his head. "Heh, you..." Despite himself, he couldn't stop smiling. His chest felt unexpectedly full, as if a long-buried part of himself was waking up. "Be my guitarist?"
Daotok looked at him evenly. "You want me to be your guitarist?"
"Yeah, I just said so."
For the first time, Daotok hesitated before responding. Then, with a small nod, he murmured, "Thank you."
Arthit frowned. "What are you thanking me for?"
"It's an honor."
"Whoa, whoa. Why so formal all of a sudden? And why is it an honor?"
"Someone talented at making music would obviously choose carefully."
Arthit scoffed. "No, it's just because I like you. That's why I chose you."
Daotok went still for a moment before looking away. "Then, no thanks."
Arthit rolled his eyes. "Just kidding. I really do like your guitar playing. If I ever go back to making music, I'd want you to join me."
Daotok gave a slow nod, absently stroking the black cat curled in his lap. "Alright. Thank you."
Arthit huffed. "Again? You're like the national thank-you champion."
"For being serious."
"Huh?"
"Thank you for being serious about me."
Arthit blinked, caught off guard.
"Not everyone trusts someone else this much," Daotok continued, his voice steady but tinged with something unspoken. "To bring them to their home and say they want to show them everything about themselves. It means you trust me and take me seriously, doesn't it? You've hidden nothing from me —not even the parts of your past you didn't want to share or dreams you've never told anyone."
Arthit exhaled slowly, rubbing the back of his neck. "Honestly, it sounds like you're opening up to me."
"Does it?"
"It totally does."
Daotok was quiet for a beat. Then, in his usual, unreadable tone, he murmured, "Then zero points."
Arthit narrowed his eyes. "What? Why?"
"Zero from where there was nothing before."
"What does that even mean?"
"It means," Daotok said, glancing at him, a small smirk playing at his lips, "from now on, I'll start keeping score."