Single dad Arthit has always known Kongpob, a regular at his cafe, as a player. The latter brings in different partners every month and Arthit swears he'll stay away from him for good. However, life seems to have a different plan for him when Puimek...
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Kongpob scuffs his wet hair with the towel rougher than he normally does, and drapes it over his shoulder, not caring about the droplets of water that are trailing down his toned back, fresh from the bath.
The frustration that he's been trying shake off since he's left the cafe is still there. It's toned down drastically after he's calmed himself down under the robust rain shower but the heaviness that's been gnawing at his heart refuses to rest.
Did he expect too much?
Maybe he did.
Now that he thinks about it, it's unfair for Arthit to be at the receiving end of his blinded anger a few hours ago.
"You're an idiot, Kongpob," he whispers to himself, letting his body freefall on the bed, the bathrobe that he's slipped on earlier unravelling from the movement to expose his midriff. He shivers from the cold air but he couldn't care less.
The only thing that he cares about right now is Arthit.
And Puimek.
He wonders how the little girl is doing. It might seem silly because it hasn't even reached the timespan of 24 hours yet for her to be away from her father and yet, Kongpob is already genuinely worried about her.
Is this how it feels like to be a father? To worry about your child all the time? P'Arthit must've felt a hundred times worse.
"You're the worse, Kongpob," he reprimands himself, rolling over on his stomach to inhale the fresh scent that his bedsheet still carries, reminding him of the day where Arthit has helped him to change it after they've both shared a night together on the said bed. God, how he misses living in the same house with the father and daughter pair.
Kongpob closes his eyes, giving in to the day's exhaustion.
Ding dong— the bell rings across the house and his eyes snap back open as he scrambles to climb out of the bed, taking hurried steps towards the door.
It might be Arthit.
But when he swings open the door, it's not. Instead of the older man that Kongpob hopes to see, it's Bright, his senior back from the university that for unknown reasons, has started disliking him ever since their hazing session back in his first year.
The cafe's boss has always worn a look of disdain on his face wherever the younger man's around. So, it's a surprise to see him at his doorstep.
"P'Bright?" Kongpob's confused. "Why are you here?"
"You forgot this," says Bright, his starting voice coming out stern but is quick to soften when he adds, "I'm not Arthit. Sorry to disappoint you." He hands Kongpob the coat that's left in the cafe earlier before fishing out a card from his wallet. "Arthit asked me to return this key card to you."
