More Than Words Book III: More Than Love

Prologue

a/n:  Hey there everyone. How's you lot? This song was suggested by a friend today and eerily fits with the Book I ending. Doesn't it? Even Book III opening.

I'll take the updates slowly but enjoy the beginning of the end~

Arthit only has his phone on him which he uses to book a Uber cab and waits outside his house, his hands clutching his crutches tightly. He used all his energy and strength in making his way out of that apartment where all the people who he met on the way gave him questioning and curious looks. Most of the residents hadn't been aware of his presence so it came as a surprise to them. One person even tried to help him but Arthit had not so kindly pushed his hand away and had struggled on. His legs now want to give up as he stands, trying to stop himself from fidgeting but there's something crawling under his skin and Arthit wants to run. He wants to scratch his skin so hard, to try and scrub off the memories from his mind. Here he spent eleven years blaming alternatively Kongphob and himself for their breakup, for whatever went wrong between them. Here he is now again blaming himself and Kongphob but for all different reasons. Arthit settles for scratching his left elbow with his right, careful with keeping the crutches standing. The itch keeps spreading and his nails are digging sharp, painful red lines from his elbow to his wrist.  Arthit rubs the inner side of his wrist against his crutch's edge and takes deep breaths, his eyes keeping a look out for a returning Kongphob. He needs to be away from him. Arthit didn't spend the past few months for getting over the younger man and finally moving on only to have the 'reasons' Kongphob gave to sting him like bees of a broken hive. He has unseeable blisters from this sting and Kongphob only tries to add more and more to it. As he waits for his cab to come and take him away from his personal and only hell, Arthit wonders for the nth what he had done wrong. Why must the gods punish him this way?

Arthit is still in the clothes he went to sleep in, the ones he woke up in - the ones which belonged to Kongphob. He needs to ditch them as the earliest possible. His head snaps every time he thinks it is Kongphob at the turn of the lane but then he has to remind himself that Kongphob is no longer the lanky 0062 but a buff man he shared his professional life with even if it was for a real short while. His cab finally arrives ten minutes later and practically throws himself into the back seat, slamming the door behind him. It did seem like it was Kongphob, sitting on a bike - not the one Arthit had seen during their college days. This is a shining one and entirely matte black. Arthit can't catch the model name and slides as much as he can with his stupid leg and tells the annoyed cab driver to start moving.

Arthit could have forgiven Kongphob - for whatever it may have been, he could have forgiven the latter but now that Kongphob is here, in front of him, saying that he had thought Arthit hadn't wanted him, hadn't wanted him in the ways he had wanted, for thinking Arthit would have deserted him too like his father, Arthit didn't want to forgive him anymore. The raven-haired man hadn't been joking when he had said Kongphob he loved him. He hadn't given himself to Kongphob without considering consequences, without having realised what all possibilities their future could have held.

Arthit can't forgive that the only solution Kongphob had come up with was deserting Arthit before the latter could have done so.