A Guy Like You

Chapter 7

ARTHIT

His heart is still pounding from running all the way back to his classroom, though it's the end of the day and they're all being dismissed. He knows he doesn't want to confront Kongpob, assuming they really were talking about him.

And he's pretty sure they were talking about him.

Arthit heaves a sigh, staring out the window and remaining seated even as his classmates all sling their bags over their shoulders and leave. "Arthit?" the teacher calls from the front of the room. "Is there anything you need?"

He sits up, startled. "Huh?" he asks before realizing who spoke and correcting himself. "No, sorry. Thank you. I'll just, uh," he picks up his bag, "go." He rushes out of the classroom and down the hall, out the doors and into the crowd of students still lingering around the school. He goes unnoticed.

"P'Arthit?"

Maybe not.

He doesn't slow down, however, not wanting to be caught by Kongpob. It's easy enough to avoid him during the day. Just stay where the mass of bodies isn't, seniors and juniors alike flocking to the boy, all wanting a moment with Kongpob like fans with their idols. Arthit is very much not one of those admirers.

"P'Arthit!"

He hates me, he hates me, he hates me. The words repeat like a mantra inside his head, inspiring him to walk just that much faster, borderline running. He doesn't stop until he turns a corner, nearing his house. When he turns around, Kongpob isn't there. Arthit lets out a breath, resting his hands on his knees, bent over.

"Why are you running?"

Arthit screams. It's most definitely a manly one.

"I'm not running," he snaps. He glares at the younger. "What do you want?"

At his expression, Kongpob seems to tense up to. "Well, nothing. Not anymore." He crosses his arms, beginning to walk past Arthit. As soon as his back is facing Arthit, Arthit mouths curse words at him. The sun briefly gets into his eyes, then, after coming out from behind a building, blinding him. When he regains his vision, Kongpob is staring at him with a furrowed brow.

"Really," he says, "I was right. Being ugly does give you a bad personality."

And then he turns around once again, walking back towards the school, leaving Arthit standing by himself in the middle of the street. There was something in Kongpob's expression, however, that makes Arthit wonder if the Second Year meant every word he said.

Arthit watches Kongpob from the second floor window of an abandoned classroom overlooking the track. Kongpob and a few other Second Years are out on the courts in the grassy center of the track, some kicking around a ball and others (Kongpob included) playing basketball, shooting the ball through netless hoops.

What a weird guy.... Arthit straightens up, thinking about his behavior from yesterday versus his behavior from all the other times they'd met, namely at the student council meetings. Seriously, what is his deal?

Arthit sighs, leaning further onto the window sill, chin cradled in his palm. His eyes have just begun to lazily follow the Second Years, one whose name starts in K and ends in ongpob in particular, when there's the sound of the door creaking and a confused, "P'Arthit?"

Arthit falls out of his chair, away from the window, only to find himself staring up at Prae.

"What are you doing in here?"

"Nothing," Arthit says, scrambling up to sit in the chair once again. "I'm not doing anything, nong. Why are you here?"

"Our teacher had to leave," she explains, "so we did independent study for awhile before Kong was dragged outside and my other friends started talking about boys."

"Oh."

As she talked, Prae had been moving closer to the window, making her way around the desk Arthit occupies, and now she's staring out the window.

"Huh," she says, staring down at them, "it looks like they're having fun." She turns around to look at Arthit.

"Why are you here again?"

"Because I—." Arthit catches himself before he can tell her the truth. She smiles like a devil when he goes silent. Arthit has to smile, too. "You're really something."

Prae shrugs. "Kongpob taught me that."

"You two are, uh... pretty close, yeah?" Arthit asks.

Prae turns to look out the window once again. "Enough." She glances back at him before pushing herself off the sill and heading to the door. "I'll leave you alone, now." She offers a small wave. "Bye, P'Arthit."

Arthit waves back. "Bye."

❋ ❋ ❋

KONGPOB

The day before

"That was P'Arthit's voice, right?" Prae asks him. "I'm not crazy?"

"It was," Kongpob says. "What do you think he...?"

"I don't know," Prae replies, though she answers far too fast to not actually know. "So you hate him?"

"How can I?" Kongpob asks. "I don't think I ever have."

"Why are you running?" He gives himself a second to take in the startled form of the elder, biting back a laugh when Arthit screams.

"I'm not running," Arthit snaps at him, and normally, Kongpob would laugh it off, but there's something in his glare this time that makes Kongpob hesitant. "What do you want?"

Kongpob doesn't even know. He saw Arthit, and everything in him just said to immediately follow. "Well, nothing. Not anymore." He crosses his arms, feeling almost... defensive. He decides to stop himself before things go worse and begins to walk past the elder. The hate Arthit is mouthing to his back is almost tangible. Kongpob pauses to turn around and study him. His fluffy cheeks are red, colored with heat, and his eyes hold something mean. He appears unfocused, however, and Kongpob realizes, by the heat suddenly on his backside, that the sun has just come out. Arthit blinks a couple times, eyelashes long and fluttering, mirroring the fluttering in Kongpob's chest.

Kongpob sneers as soon as Arthit's focused on him. "Really," he says, "I was right. Being ugly does give you a bad personality."

He's never liked lying, but with Arthit, it seems that's all he's able to do.

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A/N: Follow my Twitter @perayatwt!