The thin line [Complete]

Chapter 5

Arthit's POV

It took me over 20 minutes of incessant knocking before I heard any movement from inside the room, and I was rooted outside his door only because Preet had basically threatened to call him and check if I didn't drop off the soup. Turns out we actually do live in the same building. Infact he lives exactly one floor above mine. Who knew the bane of my existence seems to follow me right back to my safe space. But since it had been only a couple of months since I had moved in, and I tend to spend nearly every waking hour at work, it makes sense why we hadn't run into each other yet. And if I had any say in the matter I was going to keep it that way.

When he finally managed to swing the door open I saw him standing there completely drenched in what I assume to be his sweat, his t-shirt stuck like second skin to his body while he looked at me with a silly grin plastered on his face. And before I could say anything he had reached out with both his hands and pulled hard on my cheeks.

"What the fuck? Do you want to die? Get your hands off me right now!"

"Aww, P'Arthit you look so cute when you are mad."

"The hell? Are you drunk?"

He continued smiling at me for a few seconds with a ridiculous smile before he turned around, leaving the door wide open and stumbled his way back to bed. And if I wasn't right behind him he was surely going to have tripped and face planted a few times before he found his destination.

I guess Preet was right. He is in much worse shape than I originally imagined. Why would the idiot not go home then. I am sure he has scores of maids and help around his parent's house, but instead now I was stuck on sick man duty. I briefly even considered simply leaving the soup on the kitchen counter and making my way back home but I am not completely heartless. Watching him covered in sweat and shivering away wasn't really a sight I would be able to get any sleep with. And anyway I figured it had better be me taking care of him than Preet.

So I tried to shake him awake to help him change his clothes and the bedsheets into fresh ones, except that I might as well be trying to wake up the dead with the fitful sleep he was immersed in. Although, every once in a while he would mumble something which was followed by a creepy laugh. I swore I even heard him mutter my name a few times. And an involuntary shiver ran down my spine when I considered I was basically helping heal my sworn enemy. I don't even know what plot he will come up with now that it's because of me that he has fallen ill.

Maybe it would be better for both of us if we were to call it a truce?

Snap out of it Arthit! You hate him remember. Right now he is just sick and vulnerable. I am feeling sorry for him only cause his is an invalid. Once he is back to normal our games will resume just as usual.

But I swear to God even when he is at his weakest, half dead with fever, he can still make my life hell. I hadn't even gotten his t-shirt off yet and he had already punched me right in the face. More than once. How is a sick man so bloody strong? It took me exactly 15 minutes of struggling to get rid of his first garment, and I don't even want to find out how strong his kicks are. So I made the executive decision of leaving his pants on, while I set out to wash his chest with a cool, damp piece of cloth to try to drive down his fever.

I had just touched the cloth to his chest when his eyes flew open and he immediately caught my wrist with his hand in a death grip. I ask once again. How the hell is a sick man so strong?

"P'Arthit? What are you doing?"

"Trying to make you survive the night."

"Oh! Make sure you do a good job then."

That bloody jerk then went right back to sleep leaving me to nurse him most of the night until his fever finally broke out. I can't believe I spent so many hours looking after the one and only man I can't stand in the entire universe. And all I was supposed to do was drop off soup.

When his sleep finally became less fitful and he drifted off seemingly peacefully I finally slumped down in the chair by the bed, too tired to even walk to the door towards my apartment.

That's when I realized that now I had the perfect opportunity to plan a few steps ahead. I was in his apartment and completely uninterrupted. Obviously I had no intentions of snooping into his personal drawers but simply looking around is perfectly harmless right? So I began inspecting around his room and the first thing I saw made me break out in a huge grin. A massive calendar right above his bed counting down the days of the year. I wonder when would be a good time to tell him that I have him for good. That his father personally came to me and requested me to take him under my wing. And under my wing he shall remain.

Just like his desk at work his room was as tidy and neat. Nothing seemed out of place or disorganized. Not even close to what my desk or apartment would be like. Mine generally had papers strewn all over where no one but me would ever be able to find anything of relevance. His didn't have anything that I could reasonably snoop through without being blatantly creepy. Even half unconscious he found a way to rile me up.

He had a few sticky notes attached on his calendar for upcoming deadlines. Those I was familiar with, since I was the one giving the deadline in the first place. He also had a few birthdays marked, some names that were family members, others I recognized from the company. That was actually more effort than I had ever seen anyone spend over birthdays of random employees around the company. I at times even hard a hard time remembering everyone's names. I decided to move on since I am not particularly looking forward to improving his impression in my head. But before I could move away something caught my eye. The 10th of next month enclosed in a big red heart.

I involuntarily let out a noisy snort. How old was he? Who still draws hearts around dates. But then I naturally went into my patented frown. Why exactly was he drawing hearts around dates? From everything I heard about him around the company, and trust me there is no shortage of people gossiping about him, he wasn't involved with anyone in particular. Maybe he had a girlfriend outside of work, but I am sure his friend May would have blabbered even about that cause talking about Kongpob seemed to be her favorite topic. Maybe I need to investigate further. Since he clearly knows my one weakness I should be able to return his favor too.

And speaking of weakness, we come to the last and probably only piece of clue in his entire apartment that is even remotely interesting to me. Sitting right on the center of his desk is a small square package with a sticky note saying "Preet" with a smiley next to it.

This relates to me. This means something. I just know it. Now I simply need to find out what before it is too late.