Distant Signals: The Love Between Us

Chapter Ten

Despite the cold-hearted, authoritative persona he adopted as head hazer, Arthit's actual personality skewed the exact opposite: reserved, shy, and deeply emotional. This, combined with a somewhat transient childhood, caused Arthit grief when he tried to develop lasting friendships. He struggled, and it wasn't until junior high, when he met Jay and Namtan, that he truly understood what it meant to be that close to someone that wasn't family. Jay had been his best friend—Namtan too, in a different way—which made it all the more devastating when jealousy drove him to distance himself from them.

He should've recognized it right away. Having nearly been consumed by jealousy his senior year of high school, Arthit was intimately familiar with the bursts of anger, bitterness, and resentment that came along with it. Even now, there were times when he felt a pang of regret for helping Jay confess instead of doing it himself, and every so often he wished they'd break up.

He didn't know why he never told her how he felt; after all, he'd liked her for years and, embarrassingly, he thought she might like him back. Instead, he helped his best friend win her heart on Valentine's Day and refrained from telling either of them how much it hurt to see them together, opting to avoid them instead.

To this day, Jay and Namtan had no idea why they grew apart, and Arthit intended to keep it that way. The truth was too embarrassing. How had he thought she liked him? Because she smiled at him? Because she showed interest in him? Because she teased him? Stupid, so fucking stupid.

"Oi, Arthit," Knot said, nudging his arm. "Wake up. We're almost there."

Arthit groaned and opened his eyes, looking out the cab window. His friends had insisted on taking him to the hospital, and not a single one of them had left his side the entire time. Now, they were all stuffed uncomfortably into a single taxicab because apparently it took four people to get Arthit back to his dorm.

He smiled. Although he scoffed and dismissed their concern as unnecessary, Arthit wouldn't have had it any other way.

"You should take a shower before we leave," said Knot, as they opened the door to his dorm and tried to turn on the light. Nothing happened. "You still haven't put in new bulbs?"

"No, and I don't need anyone harping about it. There's a perfectly good light over there." Arthit pointed at the lamp on his desk.

Knot raised an eyebrow at him.

"What? It is. Prem, go turn it on."

Luckily, Arthit had just cleaned his apartment (and by clean, he meant doing his laundry and dumping the shit he'd left on the floor into drawers, albeit messily) so Prem made it to the other side of the room without tripping on any dirty clothes.

"The doctor said to take it easy on your legs for a few days, so don't even think about coming to class," said Knot as he helped him into the room. "We'll explain the situation to the professors and let you copy our lecture notes."

"I'll come by for a couple hours in the morning," added Prem. "And then we'll bring you lunch."

Arthit nodded, coughing lightly. "We have to ask Teacher Pak tomorrow to sign off on the initiation trip. I can fend for myself just fine so focus on that, okay?" Based on the way they were looking at him, not a single one believed he could take care of himself. Annoyed, he pushed away from Knot and stood on his own. "See? I'm fine—" Then he tried to take a step forward.

A sharp, intense pain shot through his legs, and he immediately halted all movement. Experimentally, he increased the weight on the ankle he twisted at the end of the run and winced in discomfort. His muscles trembled from the strain and it hurt like hell, but he could walk through the pain if he had to do it—of that, Arthit was certain.