PERFECT (F4 THAILAND)

Flicker (19)

"Kidnapped?!"

MJ and Kavin shouted in sync, voices bouncing off the game room walls like a gunshot. MJ nearly dropped his phone, and Kavin's coffee trembled in his hand.

Thyme didn't even blink.

He sat cross-legged on the giant beanbag, controller in hand, eyes on the screen like nothing just happened.

"Yeah," he said flatly. "I did."

"Bro, are you out of your damn mind?" MJ asked, stepping forward with wide eyes.

Kavin let out a long, tired sigh and started pacing like a dad trying not to explode. "You realize she can have you arrested, right? Like-real jail. Not a time-out."

Thyme didn't even look at them. "She can file a report. I'll just make it disappear."

He reached over, grabbed his VR headset, and slipped it on like the world wasn't falling apart around him.

Seconds later-

"Ugh. Crap. Too difficult." He yanked it off and tossed it aside. "I'm done."

MJ crossed his arms, raising a brow. "With the game? Or with her?"

Thyme rolled his eyes. "What kind of question is that? I'm not frustrated. Someone like me doesn't waste time on a girl like her."

"Mm-hmm." MJ squinted. "So why'd you kidnap her then, genius?"

Thyme's head snapped toward him, eyes narrow. "You really think I'm that petty?"

Kavin stopped pacing, his voice low. "No, we think you're reckless. Rose almost killed you, remember? You were lucky we found you in time."

MJ stepped closer. "And now you're poking the bear again-with more fire this time."

"Seriously," Kavin added. "You're still going after Gorya? You've got some nerve, man."

MJ shook his head. "I think it's time to cancel the red card. Like, now. You've gone too far this time, Thyme."

Thyme laughed-sharp, careless. "What are you, my dad?"

"No," MJ said. "I have sense. Something you clearly left at home."

"Keep going like this," MJ warned, "and it's gonna blow up in your face. It's not too late to back off."

Thyme stood up slowly. Silence stretched for a second, tension thick in the air.

Then he dusted off his pants like MJ's words were crumbs. "You guys talk too much."

"Where are you going?" MJ asked.

Thyme turned toward the door, not even bothering to look back.

"To see Ren," he said. "At least he doesn't nag me like my mom."

He swung the door open, dramatic as always, and stormed out.

Kavin sighed, dropping onto the couch. "He's going to mess everything up."

MJ flopped down beside him. "Again."

Kavin nodded. "Again."

They sat in silence for a moment, the only sound being the faint music still playing from Thyme's forgotten game.

"...Wanna kidnap him and lock him in a room with a therapist?" MJ muttered.

Kavin chuckled. "I'll bring the rope."

--------

Rose walked along the sidewalk, boots brushing against the concrete as cars below hummed like distant bees. The wind tugged at her coat, soft and steady, like an old friend walking beside her. She didn't mind the city noise today. In fact, she found a strange comfort in it.

She had wandered far from home again. Walking without a destination was becoming her thing. The streets here were old, a little dusty, but somehow charming. The kind of place where the walls remembered things.

She pushed open the door to the bookstore, the bell above letting out a familiar ding. Another quiet entrance, another familiar visit. The place smelled like old pages and lavender-scented cleaning spray, just the way she liked it.

Her boots clicked across the wooden floor as she headed to the counter. She didn't need to look around. She knew this bookstore better than most people knew their dreams.

And there he was.

Tawan.

Standing behind the cashier, that boy was smiling like he'd swallowed the sun and it was now glowing out of him. His grin was so wide, it should've been illegal.

She sighed-half fond, half exhausted.

At first? He was annoying. Too loud. Too friendly. Too... Tawan.
But now? Somehow, she'd ended up on his friend list. Not that she signed up. He just decided. And weirdly... she didn't hate it.

There was something about him-he always seemed to shine, even on the dullest days. And for someone like her, who had built walls with iron hands, that light was dangerous.

She stopped in front of the counter, crossing her arms.

"Why does your face look like the night sky before a thunderstorm?" she asked, raising a brow.

Tawan snapped his head up, startled-but the moment his eyes met hers, they lit up like fairy lights.

"Oh my god! You're here at the perfect time!" he shouted, practically leaping over the counter.

Rose blinked. "What-?"

He grabbed her by the shoulders, gently but dramatically, like she was a soldier arriving mid-battle. "You don't know it yet, but you are a lifesaver, Rose!"

"Uh... okay? I didn't do anything though?"

"Exactly!" he beamed. "And that's why you're the chosen one!"

Before she could escape, Tawan had already pulled off his work apron and shoved it at her chest.

"Here-take over my shift. Just for two hours. I'll be super fast, I swear! Bless your soul!"

"Wait-what? I never agreed-!"

But he was already grabbing his jacket, hopping on one foot as he tried to put it on, mumbling something about "emergency" and "I owe you bubble tea."

"Tawan!!" Rose shouted, chasing after him as he bolted toward the door. "I am NOT doing this! I'm not even on the staff-Hey!"

But the door had already slammed behind him, the bell ringing like a traitor.

She stood there in the silence he left behind, apron still clutched in her hands, jaw slightly dropped.

"...That boy is seriously possessed," she muttered, staring at the empty space where Tawan had been.

Then she groaned, tossing her head back. "Ugh! Just wait till I get my hands on you, Tawan!"
.
.
.
Rose had just gotten used to standing behind the counter when a flickering light above caught her attention.

The ceiling bulb above the poetry section blinked like it was having a dramatic breakdown.

She squinted up at it, hands on hips. "You too, huh?"

The flickering light above the counter blinked again, sharp and irritating, like it was winking just to mess with her.

Rose sighed.

She could've ignored it. Should have ignored it. But something about broken things annoyed her deeply.

After a minute of internal debate, she muttered, "Can't be that hard."

Marching into the back room, she dragged out the old wooden chair the staff used whenever something needed reaching. It creaked just from being looked at, but she didn't think twice. Maybe she should've.

Balancing herself with one hand on the top shelf, she stretched upward, fiddling with the bulb.

Just as she gave the bulb one final twist,

Ding.

The doorbell rang.

A/N: HAPPY READING 💐