CHASING AFTER YOU ( VICE VERSA)

4

Thursday morning, I was woken up by my alarm clock. It was already 6 am, and I had a pounding headache. The remnants of last night's champagne bubbles lingered on my tongue, a bittersweet reminder of the celebration and the anxieties that had followed.  [1]  But the excitement of the new job, the chance to work with Pond, outweighed everything else.

I rushed to get ready, a nervous energy buzzing through me. I wanted to make a good impression, to show Pond that I was capable, that I could handle the demands of the corporate world. But more than that, I wanted to make him see me, to notice me beyond my work. A foolish hope, perhaps, but one that I couldn't shake.

The Naravit office was abuzz with activity as I arrived.  I saw familiar faces like Nanon and Ohm, the friendly marketing assistants, already hard at work.  Drake and Frank, the sharp-witted project managers, were deep in conversation, and Jack, Mile, and Apo, the design team, were huddled around a large screen, their heads bent in concentration.  I tried to greet them with a smile, but my heart wasn't really in it.  All I could think about was Pond.

My first project was a big one, a new campaign for Naravit's latest line of smart home technology. I poured my heart and soul into it, drawing inspiration from the vibrant colors and textures of Bangkok, the city that had always been my muse. I wanted to create something unique, something that would capture Pond's attention.

I presented my ideas to the team, my voice trembling slightly with nervousness. But as I spoke, my passion for the project took over, my words flowing effortlessly. I explained my vision, the way I wanted to blend technology with art, to create a seamless experience that would resonate with consumers.

The team was impressed, their faces lighting up with enthusiasm.  But Pond, seated at the head of the table, remained silent, his expression unreadable. His silence was a weight, a constant reminder of his indifference.

Later that afternoon, I found myself lingering in the hallway outside Pond's office, hoping to catch a glimpse of him.  I'd find excuses to go to his office, just to be near him.  I'd even try to engage him in conversation, but he always seemed distant, his focus solely on his work.

"Phuwin,"  Nanon called out, her voice a welcome distraction.  "Are you alright?  You seem a bit preoccupied."

"I'm fine," I replied, forcing a smile.  "Just a bit stressed about the project."

"Don't worry too much,"  Nanon said, her eyes twinkling with understanding.  "Pond is a tough boss, but he's fair.  He'll appreciate your hard work."

I nodded, but I couldn't shake the feeling that I needed to do more, to go beyond my work, to find a way to connect with Pond on a personal level.

As the day wore on, I found myself drawn back to Pond's office, my heart pounding with a mixture of excitement and apprehension.  I knew that this was a risky move, but I was determined to take the chance.  I had to try to connect with him, to make him see me, to make him realize that I was more than just a talented artist, that I was a man who was worthy of his attention, his affection.

I walked towards his office, my steps a little unsteady, my heart pounding with a mixture of excitement and apprehension.  I knocked softly on his door, my hand trembling slightly.

"Come in,"  a deep, familiar voice called out.

I pushed open the door, my heart skipping a beat as I saw Pond sitting at his desk, his gaze fixed on a computer screen.  He looked up, his expression unreadable.

"Phuwin,"  he said, his voice a low rumble.  "What can I do for you?"

"I just wanted to check in on the project," I said, my voice a little shaky.  "I have a few questions."

"Alright,"  he replied, his gaze returning to the computer screen.  "Let's talk."

He gestured for me to take a seat across from him, but I couldn't bring myself to do it.  I stood there, my hand still outstretched, my heart sinking with disappointment.  He hadn't even bothered to shake my hand, hadn't even looked at me directly.  He was so distant, so uninterested.

"I'm just going to leave these notes for you," I said, my voice barely a whisper.  "I'll check in again later."

I turned and walked away, my shoulders slumped with defeat.  I had tried to connect with him, to make him see me, but he had shut me out.  He was so focused on his work, so uninterested in anything else.

I spent the rest of the day trying to focus on my work, but I couldn't shake the feeling of disappointment, the feeling that I had failed.  I had tried to make him see me, to make him realize that I was more than just a talented artist, that I was a man who was worthy of his attention, his affection.  But he hadn't even bothered to look at me.

As the day wore on, the disappointment turned into a crushing sense of despair.  I felt like I had been rejected, like I wasn't good enough.  I couldn't stop thinking about Pond, about his indifference, about the way he had made me feel so small.

I couldn't take it anymore.  I needed to escape, to forget about my feelings, to drown my sorrows in something, anything.

I left the office early, my head pounding with a mixture of disappointment and despair.  I needed to forget about Pond, to forget about my feelings, to forget about everything.

I walked to my usual club, my steps a little unsteady, my heart heavy with despair.  I ordered a double whiskey, the strong liquor burning a path down my throat, a temporary reprieve from the pain that was consuming me.

I sat at the bar, my head in my hands, my heart aching with a mixture of disappointment and despair.  I had tried to connect with Pond, to make him see me, but he had shut me out.  He was so focused on his work, so uninterested in anything else.

I couldn't stop thinking about his indifference, about the way he had made me feel so small.  I had never felt so rejected, so unworthy.

I took another sip of my whiskey, the strong liquor a temporary escape from the pain that was consuming me.  I needed to forget about Pond, to forget about my feelings, to forget about everything.

I drank, and I drank, and I drank, until the world around me blurred into a hazy, distorted mess.  I couldn't stop thinking about Pond, about his indifference, about the way he had made me feel so small.

I was devastated.

The next morning, I woke up with a pounding headache and a fuzzy memory of the previous night's revelry.  The remnants of last night's whiskey burned in my throat, a stark reminder of my despair.  But as I lay in bed, a new hope flickered within me.  I couldn't let Pond's indifference crush me.  I had to find a way to make him see me, to make him realize that I was more than just a talented artist, that I was a man who was worthy of his attention, his affection.

I got out of bed, my resolve renewed.  I knew that I had to make a move, to break free from the cycle of longing and disappointment.  I had to show Pond that I was more than just a pretty face, that I was a valuable asset to his company, and maybe, just maybe, he would finally see me, the man behind the art, the man who was desperately in love with him.

I arrived at the Naravit office with a newfound determination.  I saw familiar faces like Nanon and Ohm, the friendly marketing assistants, already hard at work.  Drake and Frank, the sharp-witted project managers, were deep in conversation, and Jack, Mile, and Apo, the design team, were huddled around a large screen, their heads bent in concentration.  I tried to greet them with a smile, but my mind was elsewhere, focused on my plan.

I spent the morning immersed in my work, pushing myself to the limit, determined to prove my worth.  I knew that Pond was a man who valued results above all else, so I poured my heart and soul into my project, drawing inspiration from the vibrant colors and textures of Bangkok, the city that had always been my muse.  I wanted to create something unique, something that would capture Pond's attention, something that would make him see me as more than just a talented artist.

As the day wore on, I found myself drawn back to Pond's office, my heart pounding with a mixture of excitement and apprehension.  I knew that this was a risky move, but I was determined to take the chance.  I had to try to connect with him, to make him see me, to make him realize that I was more than just a talented artist, that I was a man who was worthy of his attention, his affection.

I walked towards his office, my steps a little unsteady, my heart pounding with a mixture of excitement and apprehension.  I knocked softly on his door, my hand trembling slightly.

"Come in,"  a deep, familiar voice called out.

I pushed open the door, my heart skipping a beat as I saw Pond sitting at his desk, his gaze fixed on a computer screen.  He looked up, his expression unreadable.

"Phuwin,"  he said, his voice a low rumble.  "What can I do for you?"

"I just wanted to check in on the project," I said, my voice a little shaky.  "I think I have a great idea that could really elevate the campaign."

"Alright,"  he replied, his gaze returning to the computer screen.  "Let's talk."

He gestured for me to take a seat across from him, but I couldn't bring myself to do it.  I stood there, my hand still outstretched, my heart sinking with disappointment.  He hadn't even bothered to shake my hand, hadn't even looked at me directly.  He was so distant, so uninterested.

"I'm just going to leave these notes for you," I said, my voice barely a whisper.  "I'll check in again later."

I turned and walked away, my shoulders slumped with defeat.  I had tried to connect with him, to make him see me, but he had shut me out.  He was so focused on his work, so uninterested in anything else.

But as I walked back to my desk, a new hope flickered within me.  I had to try again.  I couldn't give up.  I had to find a way to make Pond see me, to make him realize that I was more than just a talented artist, that I was a man who was worthy of his attention, his affection.

I spent the rest of the day immersed in my work, my mind racing with ideas.  I wanted to create something extraordinary, something that would make Pond take notice, something that would make him see me as more than just an employee.  I knew that I had to go beyond my work, to find a way to connect with him on a personal level.

Later that afternoon, I saw Pond leaving the office, his sharp features etched with concentration.  He was heading to a meeting, his briefcase in hand, his steps purposeful.  I saw my chance.

"Pond," I called out, my voice a little shaky.  "Wait up!"

He stopped, turning to look at me, his expression unreadable.  I took a deep breath, my heart pounding in my chest.

"I just wanted to say," I said, my voice a little shaky.  "I'm really impressed by your work.  You're a brilliant businessman."

He raised an eyebrow, a flicker of surprise crossing his face.  "Thank you," he said, his voice a low rumble.

"I'm also really enjoying working here," I continued, my voice gathering strength.  "It's a great opportunity to learn and grow."

He nodded, his gaze still fixed on me.  "I'm glad to hear it," he said.

"I'm also a big fan of your company's vision," I said, my voice gaining confidence.  "You're really pushing the boundaries of design and technology."

He smiled, a rare and fleeting gesture.  "Thank you," he said.  "We're always striving to innovate."

"I'd love to hear more about your vision for the company," I said, my voice filled with genuine interest.  "Maybe we could grab a drink sometime and talk about it?"

He hesitated for a moment, his expression unreadable.  "I'm usually quite busy," he said finally.  "But I'll keep it in mind."

He turned and walked away, leaving me standing there, my heart pounding with a mixture of hope and disappointment.  He hadn't said yes, but he hadn't said no either.  He had left the door open, a glimmer of possibility in his response.

I walked back to my desk, my mind racing with a mixture of excitement and trepidation.  I had made a move, I had taken a chance.  And for the first time, I felt like I had a chance to connect with Pond on a personal level.

The next morning, I woke up with a renewed sense of purpose.  The memory of Pond's hesitant "I'll keep it in mind" replayed in my head, a spark of hope igniting within me.  He hadn't said no.  He had left the door open, a glimmer of possibility in his response.  I was going to make him see me, to make him realize that I was more than just a talented artist, that I was a man who was worthy of his attention, his affection.

I arrived at the Naravit office with a plan.  As I walked through the bustling hallways, I saw familiar faces like Nanon and Ohm, the friendly marketing assistants, already hard at work.  Drake and Frank, the sharp-witted project managers, were deep in conversation, and Jack, Mile, and Apo, the design team, were huddled around a large screen, their heads bent in concentration.  I tried to greet them with a smile, but my mind was elsewhere, focused on my plan.

I spent the morning immersed in my work, pushing myself to the limit, determined to prove my worth.  I knew that Pond was a man who valued results above all else, so I poured my heart and soul into my project, drawing inspiration from the vibrant colors and textures of Bangkok, the city that had always been my muse.  I wanted to create something unique, something that would capture Pond's attention, something that would make him see me as more than just a talented artist.

As the morning progressed, I noticed that Pond was working late, his office door ajar, the glow of his computer screen illuminating the hallway.  I saw my chance.

I tiptoed to the office kitchen, my heart pounding with a mixture of excitement and apprehension.  I grabbed a cup of freshly brewed coffee, the aroma filling the air with a comforting warmth.  I added a touch of sugar, my fingers trembling slightly, and then I carefully walked back to Pond's office.

I knocked softly on his door, my hand trembling slightly.

"Come in," a deep, familiar voice called out.

I pushed open the door, my heart skipping a beat as I saw Pond hunched over his desk, his sharp features etched with concentration.  He looked up, his expression unreadable.

"Pond," I said, my voice a little shaky.  "I brought you some coffee."

He looked at me, his gaze sharp and piercing.  "Thank you," he said, his voice a low rumble.  "I appreciate it."

He took the cup from me, his fingers brushing against mine.  A jolt of electricity shot through my body, sending a shiver down my spine.  I couldn't help but notice how warm his hand felt, how strong his grip was.

"I'm glad you like it," I said, trying to hide my nervousness.  "I made it myself."

He took a sip of the coffee, his expression unreadable.  "It's good," he said finally.  "Thank you."

I stood there for a moment, my heart pounding in my chest.  I wanted to say more, to tell him how much I admired him, how much I wanted to get to know him better.  But I couldn't find the words.

"I'll let you get back to work," I said finally, my voice a little shaky.  "I'm just going to head back to my desk."

I turned and walked away, my heart filled with a mixture of hope and disappointment.  I had taken a chance, I had made a move.  But I couldn't help but feel that I had failed to connect with him on a deeper level.

As I walked back to my desk, I couldn't help but think about the brief moment of contact, the way his fingers had brushed against mine.  It was a small gesture, but it had sent a jolt of electricity through my body, a flicker of hope igniting within me.

I spent the rest of the day immersed in my work, my mind racing with ideas.  I wanted to create something extraordinary, something that would make Pond take notice, something that would make him see me as more than just an employee.  I knew that I had to go beyond my work, to find a way to connect with him on a personal level.

Later that afternoon, I saw Pond leaving the office, his sharp features etched with concentration.  He was heading to a meeting, his briefcase in hand, his steps purposeful.  I saw my chance.

"Pond," I called out, my voice a little shaky.  "Wait up!"

He stopped, turning to look at me, his expression unreadable.  I took a deep breath, my heart pounding in my chest.

"I'd love to hear more about your vision for the company," I said, my voice filled with genuine interest.  "Maybe we could grab a drink sometime and talk about it?"

He hesitated for a moment, his expression unreadable.  "I'm usually quite busy," he said finally.

He turned and walked away, leaving me standing there, my heart pounding with a mixture of hope and disappointment.  He hadn't said yes, but he hadn't said no either.  He had left the door open, a glimmer of possibility in his response.

I walked back to my desk, my mind racing with a mixture of excitement and trepidation.  I had made a move, I had taken a chance.  And for the first time, I felt like I had a chance to connect with Pond on a personal level.

Later that day, I saw Pond walking through the office, his sharp features etched with concentration.  I couldn't help but feel a surge of excitement.  I had to try again.  I had to make him see me, to make him realize that I was more than just a talented artist, that I was a man who was worthy of his attention, his affection.

I walked up to him, my heart pounding in my chest.  "Pond," I said, my voice a little shaky.  "I just wanted to ask, what's your favorite type of coffee?"

He looked at me, his expression unreadable.  "I don't really have a preference," he said finally.  "I just drink it for the caffeine."

"But you must have a favorite," I insisted, my voice gaining confidence.  "There's gotta be a type of coffee that you enjoy more than others."

He hesitated for a moment, his gaze fixed on me.  "I suppose I do," he said finally.  "I like a strong, dark roast."

"A strong, dark roast," I repeated, my mind racing.  "Like you."

He looked at me, a flicker of amusement crossing his face.  "I'm not sure I understand," he said.

"I'm just saying," I said, my voice gaining confidence.  "You're a strong, dark roast kind of guy."

He smiled, a rare and fleeting gesture.  "I suppose I am," he said.

I took a deep breath, my heart pounding in my chest.  "I'm going to make you a cup of coffee tomorrow," I said, my voice filled with determination.  "A strong, dark roast, just the way you like it."

He hesitated for a moment, his expression unreadable.  "Alright," he said finally.  "I'll look forward to it."