IT'S OK IF IT'S YOU

DARK CLOUDS

Korn had sent Arthit back to his house which turned out to be just 20 minutes away from their dorm much to Korn's surprise knowing very well that the housing area near their faculty was very expensive.

Arthit's house was even more secluded from the rest as it was perched atop a hill and it may not look like much, a simple one-story house that wasn't even similar to the other designs in this area. This house was almost made to look desolate but Korn knew that this land lot itself cost hundreds of thousand Baht.

"You're okay?" Korn asked taking a peek at the younger guy next to him as they reached their destination. Arthit glance over to the brawny man and smiled.

"Yes, P'. Thank you for taking me home," Arthit said, thinly. His voice seemed to be laden with emotion that Korn could not seem to identify and yet his face was stoic.

"How did you know?" Korn asked the younger man. His thoughts were at their earlier conversation. Arthit lifted the corner of his lips slightly.

"It's pretty obvious P' the way you look at P'Knock. He's a really good man, P'Korn, treasure him. Don't let me ever regret giving you the chance to take him." Arthit's eyes were sharp daggers and the clear warning was there to be seen. Korn nodded solemnly, his respect for this younger man upped a notch. Somehow he knew then how Knock had felt towards this kid. He had the nerve of steel and yet there's a kind of vulnerability that if one looked deep enough one could sense it hidden beneath those cold steely eyes.

Korn drove away after making sure that Arthit had gone into his house first. His mind was again filled with images of Kong sucking the kid's mouth. Korn smirked shaking his head. Damn Kong, you sure are a fast mover!!

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Arthit switched on the lights and stripped his overcoat off and went straight to his exercise room. It was a room where Arthit would practice dancing. One side of the wall is fixed with a mirror where the room is mostly empty except for a punching bag hanging by the corner. One would wonder why is there a punching bag in a dance studio?

Arthit opened a build in closet near the punching bag and took out a pair of gloves. He immediately put them on and Arthit went straight for the bag.

The softness of his lips. The sweetness of him.

Arthit first strike was not so hard just a simple jab here and there. His senses were filled that of P'Kong and his lips.

The scent and taste of his tongue wrapping around my own.

Arthit felt his stomach churned as dark shadows of past memories began to invade his senses engulfing the warmth haven of P'Kong scent and sweetness and he suddenly went for the kill. Hitting the bag over and over left and right with upper and lower jabs relentless as if trying to get whatever it was in his mind out and kill it.

Half an hour later, Arthit fell onto his knees heaving for air as he gulped and wheezed. The flood of perspiration dripping from his body, he fell onto the floor and sobbed, tiny and painful at first then louder as he let out the agony in his soul that he had carried around since the day he left the house.

That was the first breakdown he had had in almost 2 years. This time it was different. This one was so raw. Something had triggered this sudden vulnerability since he met P'knock again and P'Kong.....

I hated myself for being so weak.

You're a man now Arthit, not a kid!!

He kept telling himself over and over until he fell into a fitful slumber right on the floor.

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