Arthit has a favourite cubicle in the third floor bathroom.
Granted, every cubicle in that particular bathroom is an apt choice, but in his opinion, the one at the far end with the frosted window is the best, being slightly roomier and with ample lighting to read his newest Snoopy comic. Not exactly a bench at the park, but still a far cry from the hazardous school cafeteria nonetheless.
According to some silly myth that had been borne of theories following the release of some popular wizard movie Arthit had never seen, school bathrooms are prime real estate for crying ghosts.
It’s funny, because the only one who regularly occupies the stale, cold space at the end of the corridor is none other than Arthit himself, and he’s certainly alive and breathing.
It’s also not funny at all, because as far as his classmates are concerned, he may as well not be.
“Please tell me, Lung Arthit,” Kaofang sidles up to her favourite uncle, nuzzling her sparkly face into his tummy.
They’re lying side by side on the living room floor, exhausted after she’s spent a good part of their afternoon smearing bright red lipstick and, of course, purple glitter all over Arthit’s face.
“Can we talk about this, please?”
He pants a little, speed-walking after Arthit as they approach their apartment.
Kongpob, I think we should break up.
His mouth had fallen open, and then Arthit had said nothing more, making a beeline for the parking lot exit and not stopping to hear anything Kongpob had to say about the matter. The man had even made such a point of avoiding him that he’d bounded the six flights of stairs up to the apartment in his stiff leather work shoes, not at all discouraged by the evening’s fatigue.
They’d gathered at Todd and Earth’s rather spacious townhouse for the evening to celebrate. By now, they know exactly how things work.
Arrive together, make polite chit-chat with the relatives, display light touches and playful comments here and there, smile and laugh at whatever anyone says, then make hinting eye contact at around ten with the intent to leave, driving to their shared apartment to fall asleep in their separate bedrooms.
Friday, June 5th, 202015:57📍 Chumpon Archipelago, Koh Samui Arthit can count on one hand the number of times he’s travelled by boat. Two of those occurrences had been taken up by the trip to and from somewhere to Phuket (he’d been too small to remember) for his grandfather’s burial in his hometown. He has barely any recollection of his time on the island, having spent most of it in the confines of a dusty bedroom in a distant relative’s home. What he does remember, though, is Ah Ma clutching at… Read more Part 1: Chapter 6 →
Content Warning: Non-graphic mature content Arthit might be perplexed by Kongpob’s insistence on making everything infinitely more complicated at every turn, but he isn’t totally dense. He knows very well what the core of Kongpob’s intentions are, behind all the teasing and the constant vying for his annoyed attention. Every so often, especially when he’s toed the line a little too far and Arthit’s irritated scowl distorts itself into a pained expression of genuine hurt, Kongpob steps back. And then there’s tenderness in his apology that squeezes at Arthit’s chest… Read more Part 1: Chapter 5 →
Friday, June 5th, 202012:15 PM📍 Nathon Pier, Koh Samui The third and perhaps the most infuriating blight to Arthit’s rapidly deteriorating sanity has been a constant in every single day of his life since two months into tenth grade. He’d been halfway through giving an elaborate presentation on the various molecular structures of different hydrocarbons, a project he’d spent a stupid amount of time preparing for. He’d made a rather impressive 3D model out of bamboo takeout chopsticks and balls of newspaper mâché-d into perfect spheres, each one carefully hand-painted to… Read more Part 1: Chapter 4 →
Warning: Brief mentions of past emotional trauma Friday, June 5, 202011:20 AM📍 Homestay Bangkhran There are three main things that infuriatingly present themselves to be the bane of Arthit’s existence. One of them is unpleasant surprises. It doesn’t matter if it’s something as simple as his dying second-hand laptop contracting yet another virus or getting below a 95 on an assignment he thought for sure he’d aced. It’s not that he develops any physical convulsions towards being met with bad news or situations, but his brain has an amusing (read:… Read more Part 1: Chapter 2 →