The Atsadang Bar closed at half-past two in the morning.
Thanaponi set down his guitar, grabbed the remaining half-bottle of mineral water, tilted his head back to drink it all, and then habitually flattened the bottle and tossed it into the trash.
Every night, after the bar closed, he stood at the entrance, letting the wind blow and emptying his mind for a while.
Singing continuously for several hours was a considerable strain on his voice and stamina.
Only at moments like this, when the brain was willing to stop the internal self-torment, did he briefly enter a state of blankness.
So, this was the most relaxing moment of Thanapon’s day.
But today, as he pushed open the door to leave the bar, he saw the man standing at the entrance.
The man, about the same age as Tony wore a gray jacket.
His eyebrows were tightly knitted into a deep “川” character, and the cigarette in his hand was already halfway burned.
Because of the two messages received in the evening, Thanapon was not too surprised that this person appeared at this time and place.
The man didn’t say anything, just glanced at him, turned and walked to the side.
Thanapon closed the door and followed him.
On the opposite side of the alley, several young girls were standing.
They whispered to each other while looking at Thanapon, as if wanting to approach him for a chat but lacking the courage to do so.
The man walked ahead, smoking a cigarette, turning several corners and crossing a few alleys until the sounds of Atsadang Slope Street were left far behind.
When the surroundings fell into complete silence, his footsteps finally stopped.
Thanapon, following behind him, also stopped, standing in place with an expressionless face, watching him.
The man threw away his cigarette, turned around, stared at Thanapon with a gloomy gaze.
Thanapon remembered that he used to be different.
He was a quite easy-going uncle, though a bit impatient. He had a lot of patience with children, often took Thanapon out to play, and secretly brought him some snacks that his parents didn’t allow him to eat. If not for Tony…
“Dead?” The man croaked.
“Mmh.”
With a casual “mmh,” the other party seemed suddenly angered.
He walked over, raised his hand, and forcefully poked Thanapon’s chest, his hoarse voice rising in a suppressed anger. “Is that it after death?!”
He had quite some strength, and Thanapon was pushed back a step.
The man approached, tightly gripped Thanapon’s collar, raised his voice, and shouted at him, “Causing our whole family to suffer so miserably, is it over after death?!”
Thanapon lowered his head slightly, silent, not uttering a word.
The man pushed him, slamming his back hard against the wall, and then raised his hand, a punch following closely.
Thanapon was struck, his head turned to the side. Then, the punches came down like hitting a sandbag, landing on his shoulders, chest, and arms.
The punches were random, each filled with vented anger.
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TO SHOU WITH LOVE
FanfictionA reckless and prepared to sting instrumental performer (gong) x a gentle and mature mentor (shou). On Sailub Hemmawich's twenty-ninth birthday, his friends in the circle organized a small birthday party for him. Outside the window, the sound of ra...
