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❛━. 𝑠𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑛

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❛━.       𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑝𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑠𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑛

KONGPOB

          As I stand here, face to face with Kiet, I’m at a loss for words. How do I describe this feeling roiling inside me? Disgust, maybe, mixed with something darker and deeply unsettled. The smirk on his face is infuriating. He stretches his arms casually, tucking them back into his pockets, and I can see the faint gleam of amusement in his eyes.

“Hm? Why do you have such a strange gaze on me?” he asks, as if he doesn’t know exactly what he’s doing.

I clench my jaw, my voice barely holding back the anger that’s simmering within me. “It’s not like I’m not paying you back or anything. I’ve probably given you more than any other client you have.” I spit out the words, each one laced with resentment. “I’m not running away. So, why do you feel the need to follow me around?”

Recently, he’s become like a shadow, showing up wherever I am—campus, work, even my favorite spots around the city. It’s like he’s trying to make my life a living nightmare, and the worst part? He reminds me so much of the one man I despise: my father. The resemblance is uncanny, haunting even, as if every look he gives me dredges up old wounds I thought were buried.

Kiet’s response is a mocking chuckle. “I was just curious about your friendships. You seem to be fairly popular.” He pulls out his phone and shows me a picture—one I didn’t even know existed—posted on a page where people rate the so-called “cute” guys at our school. My photo. I have no idea how it even got there, but the way he’s grinning, I can tell he’s enjoying every second of this.

“Do they know you’re a murderer?” he sneers, leaning in closer, his voice soft but twisted with malice.

A surge of anger rises within me, and my hands itch to hit him, to finally wipe that smirk off his face. But I hold back. I won’t give him the satisfaction of seeing me break. I meet his gaze, forcing myself to chuckle dryly, trying to keep the fury and pain from seeping through. “What about you? Do you know I’m a murderer?” The words come out sharper than I expected, laced with a challenge, but my hand shakes, betraying my fear and rage.

For a moment, Kiet’s confidence wavers. He takes a step back, his eyes narrowing. He doesn’t like that I’m standing up to him.

But I know what he wants. He wants me to break down, to beg him for mercy, to be vulnerable and desperate for his twisted favors. That’s how he works. But I’m not giving him that satisfaction.

“Let me make something clear,” I say, my voice low but firm. “You know I could kill you with my own hands, but you wouldn’t be able to kill me. Understand that I’m doing everything I can to avoid having to stoop to that level. I don’t care if it means working every night washing dishes to scrape together the money to pay you off.” I take a deep breath, locking my gaze on his. “But if you ever make me lose that chance, if you take that last option from me, then I’ll only have one path left.”

I turn on my heel, walking away, feeling the weight of my past and his presence pressing down on me. The memory floods back—the one I can never erase. The image of Kiet’s father, of the moment I fought back, lingers like a ghost in my mind. I defended my family, and for that, I paid the price with a mark that can never be erased.

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ARTHIT

          Watching from a distance, I can see Kongpob standing there, talking to some guy by the gate. My fists clench involuntarily, and I can feel a wave of frustration roll over me, stronger than I expected. I still can’t shake off what he said to me last night.

His words hit me like an arrow straight to the chest, and even now, they echo in my head: "If you're going to be two-faced, at least make one of them pretty."

“Why do you hate that boy?” Prem’s voice snaps me out of my thoughts, catching me off guard. I look up to see him and Knott watching me, a curious, almost amused look in their eyes.

“Does it seem like I can’t stand him?” I say, a bit too defensively. I let out a sigh, not even sure how to put this into words. How do I explain the way Kongpob seems to always know how to get under my skin?

Bright just shakes his head, crossing his arms. “Arthit… Everyone knows you’re hard on him. You pick on him constantly! Anyone can see it.”

I frown, looking down. They don’t understand. None of them do. I remember the way this all started—how he brazenly told me he’d make me his wife so he could claim my gear badge. The nerve, the arrogance. I wanted to make him pay, to put him in his place for that audacity. That’s what it’s been about this whole time, right? But if that’s true, why does he keep showing up in my thoughts, no matter how hard I try to push him away?

“Shut up,” I mutter, cutting off the conversation and walking away, feeling my cheeks burn as I distance myself from them. Why does Kongpob have this effect on me?

I glance back over my shoulder, and my eyes fall on him again. There he is, looking like he’s just been through a fight, his hands shaking slightly as he stands there, facing that strange man. I feel an unfamiliar twist of worry in my gut. There’s something about this guy, the way he’s cornered Kongpob. I don’t trust him. He looks dangerous.

“Hands… trembling…” I mutter under my breath, barely realizing I’ve spoken out loud.

“Huh?” Prem glances over at me, confusion in his eyes.

“Nothing. Shut up,” I snap, turning my back on the scene, but the image of Kongpob’s clenched fists stays with me as I walk away.