Enso: The Beginning

Act 4

Jack's POV

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I was awakened by the sound of rain outside my window. I tried getting up to open my bedside lamp but immediately gave up as my head throbbed in pain. My head felt like it was being cut in half. The room was too dark for me to see the time on my wall clock. My eyes were practically begging to be closed again, but I didn't want to go back to that dream. I didn't need to anyways. It's vivid, too vivid, that even until now, my heart's thumping like crazy.

I love you, Krit.

In the many times he's appeared in my dreams, this was the first time he carried me, the first time he went inside my room, the first time I actually said those words to him, and the first time we kissed. Despite being a product of my imagination, the sensation of our lips meeting felt too real. They do say a dream is a wish your heart makes. But have I become that desperate? Is this how much I want him to be mine? That I fantasize over us lying on my bed while kissing?

I was going insane.

When did this even start?

My parents indulged me and my dream to become a writer. In particular, my mother was a friend of Haruethai Academy's school director and had heard of the theater plays being performed in the academy. The director invited us to watch the play last year, and I was beyond enthralled. It blew my mind, especially when they told me a student wrote the entire story. I knew I wanted to write a story that would end up in theaters someday. I didn't expect that to really happen though. A work of mine really became a theatrical production this year.

But that was just one of the surprises that happened that day.

Another friend of the director, an air force pilot from the US, went to watch the play as well. His arrival caused a ruckus among the students and faculty. Apparently, he was from a well-known family of soldiers and true enough, I often saw his face on TV. The director told my mother that this man, whose name was San, went to watch the play with his nephew, who was the same age as me and was planning to enter the academy as well. She went on to mention how much of a shame it was that a lieutenant's son refused to follow his father's legacy and chose to become an actor.

Call it fate or destiny's play, but as soon as I left my mom and the director to go to the bathroom, I bumped into the people they were gossiping about.

"How was it, Krit? Did you enjoy the play?"

"Yes! It was amazing! I wonder if I'll be able to perform like that on a big stage too."

The way he looked at the stage, how he spoke about it enthusiastically, and the big grin on his face, made me ponder over the director's words. Why was choosing to be an actor bad when this boy was obviously happy about it?

And that question continued to linger in my mind as I started high school. I knew I would meet that boy again as freshmen students, but I didn't expect to be in the same class as him. I also didn't think that everyone was under the same impression as the director.

'Why didn't Krit succeed his father?'

It frustrated me that people say that about him. If only they saw the happiness he radiated back then, they wouldn't think this way. That's why I couldn't blame his silent and distant behavior around people, how he wouldn't talk to anyone unnecessarily and was often found alone in the garden with a cigarette in his mouth. People had so much to say about him, from his name to his family to his career choices and even to his habits. Everyone wanted something from him, but they never paid attention to what he wanted.