I was Once, Not anymore.

Chapter 4

AN : I gues I'm serving you guys enough, but yeah in this chapter you will find the answers of all the questions.

Hello silent readers Iam posting chapters everyday, so you can read everyday, show some love.

Kongpob wasn't even sure how he managed to get through his performance as he stepped off of the stage and disappeared into the back half of the establishment. He was shaken. He was nauseous. He was sure he'd never have to see Arthit again when he left school, but there he was; like the devil Kongpob knew him to be.

He told himself, repeatedly—like a broken record player—that he shouldn't worry himself. It was highly unlikely that the man even recognized Kongpob because Arthit never gave a shit about him in the first place. He had just been another fuck to Arthit, another fuck to use and abuse and then spread around school.

Arthit might've forgotten that horrible year, but Kongpob sure as hell hadn't.

It was in everything that he did and everything that he said. The events that made up Kongpob's junior year of high school were so deeply ingrained in his life that Kongpob was sure he'd never be rid of them. And all of it—all of it—started because he had a crush; a crush on Arthit Rojnapat.

"Hey! Hey, Weir!"

Kongpob paused, nearly cringing at the use of the shortened form of his stage name before he looked over his shoulder. His manager was hot on his trail with an excited expression on his face and a sheet of paper clutched in his hand. 

Somehow Kongpob managed to keep the excitement off of his features as he faced the man. "Yes?" He answered, resisting the urge to rip the paper clean out of the manager's hands because he knew what it was and it was something he'd been waiting for all evening, and dammit, he just wanted it so fucking badly that he could almost taste what was to come.

"Here's your after-hours schedule," the man replied, handing over the paper, and if he noticed Kongpob's eagerness, he never said anything. 

"You did well tonight, Weir. Your last ticket sold just before you went on stage."

Chocolate Brown eyes immediately regarded the paper, scanning over hastily scrawled names and their accompanying signatures before Kongpob sucked his lower lip into his mouth, he chewed on it before letting out a heavy sigh of relief. He recognized a few regulars' names and no one else. Arthit might've been there that night, but he wasn't interested in the after-hours. 

Kongpob looked up at his boss and gave the man a deviously sheepish smile. 

"That's got to be some kind of record, huh?" He teased but only received a laugh and a congratulatory pat on the back before he was reminded that he was due in the blue room at ten o'clock for his first client.

x x x

Ten o'clock came and went with his first client; a middle-aged regular who had been paying for Kongpob's time for the past few months. The man—his name Kongpob could never remember—had a wife, children, and a successful small business, but sometimes he just liked to fuck young men. Kongpob's client wasn't anything special, but he could get the job done at least and that was something Kongpob could appreciate, though he was glad to see him leave once the hour was up.

He had a precious few moments before his second client was due, and Kongpob wisely used that time to wash up and prepare himself for the next person who walked through his door. He was expecting another regular, though this man didn't visit him like he used to—busy with college or some excuse akin to that, but it didn't matter to Kongpob. He didn't care. The only thing he cared about was when his next client would be here.