SOTUS one shots

When We Were Young

Kongpob met Arthit when he was a kid.

    From his window, he had watched as the new neighbors moved in, hauling their boxes inside. He was a curious kid, and with his big eyes he had spotted a kid trudging behind his parents grumpily.

    His parents together with him and his sisters would later introduce themselves properly to their new neighbors, Kongpob hiding behind his mother’s skirt as the adults talked. His ma and pa had always been social and had wanted to welcome their neighbors openly to the area, a value Kongpob had inherited from his parents.

    He had seen the kid, whose name was Arthit, smile cheekily at his parents, looking between his ma and pa then to his sisters until Arthit’s eyes had landed on him. Kongpob had given the other kid a smile, remembering wanting to befriend him.

    The Rojnapats then had invited them over for dinner the next day. It was just him and ma and his sisters because his father had to tend to some businesses. The thing that Kongpob remembers the most was not the food or the conversation the adults had that night, but Arthit and his collection of action figures, playing until his ma had called for him to get home.

    Arthit was two years older than he was. And Kongpob looked up at him, because to him, as a 6 year old, Arthit knew more – knew better.

    He would always look forward to afternoons when his classes where over, and his mother had dropped him off at home. Kongpob would always anticipate going to the Rojnapats to play with Arthit and his toys. And the Rojnapats would always welcome him with warm smiles and cookies as Arthit would grab his hands towards his room.

    Kongpob was a silent boy. He would prefer the company of books rather than play outside with other kids his age. But it was different with Arthit. And although the other kid was technically his senior, Arthit never mocked him or treated him as a junior.

    Arthit had always been welcoming to him.

    “I’ll let you borrow Captain America,” Arthit had said one afternoon when Kongpob told him he had a nightmare the night before. “He’ll protect you from the bad guys.”

    Nightmares weren’t something to happen to Kongpob. His ma had forbid him from reading anything negative before bedtime, and with Captain America by his side, he hadn’t had a bad dream since.

    On his 7th birthday, Arthit had given him the Captain America action figure as a gift.

    Kongpob was very happy.

    “What do you want to be when you grow up, Kong?” Arthit had asked when his birthday dinner was done. Their parents were talking to each other at the living room which left the two boys alone at the backyard.

    They were watching the stars. Kongpob could still remember counting from the left until Arthit had spoken to him.

    “I want to be an astronaut,” in relation to the stars he was counting, he had blurted out.

    “Silly,” Arthit had chuckled, “You can’t be an astronaut. You’d get lost in space.”

    And since Kongpob listened to every word his friend says, Kongpob didn’t want to be an astronaut anymore. He doesn’t want to get lost in space anyway.

    “What about you, P’Ai’Oon?”

    “I want to be a doctor like my pa.” Arthit had answered. To him, Kongpob believed that Arthit would be a doctor someday, and that he’ll make a good one.