Etched.

Chapter 2

He was a quick learner...

What killed Kongpob the most was Arthit's unpredictability. He couldn't guess what that man would do, ever.

Some days he would pop into the library and talk with Marie for hours. And then he'd disappear again for ages. Or what felt like ages for Kongpob. He was just scared...

And just like that, another surprise hit him. As he was walking from class he could see Arthit standing there, leaning against his car...  A black SUV. Shiny and posh.

In his black jeans, with a black shirt with three buttons popped open. Revealing a well-sculpted, pale muscular chest. And Kongpob thought he looked good. Just a little.

And Kongpob finally knew why people said to be aware of the charmers. Because once you're caught in their web, there's no escape. None.

"Who's that?" he heard a whisper next to him. "He is hot... Who is he waiting for?"

"How would I know," Kongpob replied to his friend, walking faster in the other direction.

He ran home, the visuals replaying in his head. And he blamed his hormones for thinking about how hot Arthit looked. It wasn't Kongpob in his sane mind.

He buried his head in the pillows. Of course after checking the doors, windows, closets, and such at least three times.

He opened his eyes wide, jolting out of bed. Forgetting to do one thing. One very important thing.

He got up, running to the kitchen, and opening drawers to count the knives. He let out a sigh of relief seeing everything untouched.

Maybe he should watch fewer crime documentaries. He sat down eating alone, like always.

He was always alone, being the orphan he was. And he never really minded because he liked the feeling of independence. But now, maybe it was getting to him.

It could be because he sees all his friends in happy relationships. Or the more romcoms he's been watching. Or maybe because someone who shouldn't have, may have weaseled their way inside.

He sighed, slurping his noodles. Until his eyes fell upon a piece of paper on the countertop. And a neat freak like him would remember if he put a paper there. And he didn't.

He stiffened, feeling the bile rising. He stood up with his shaky legs and walked over, taking the small piece of paper in his hands.

"You have great taste in furniture. You should restock on some vegetables by the way."

Kongpob reread the note countless times. His breathing slowly increasing. He looked around, running to the bigger windows. He made sure they were locked, before slumping down. Trembling, letting the tears fall.

Why was this man doing this? Killing him would have been easier. Kongpob gripped his hair, screaming into his arms, curling up in the corner. Waiting for the sun to reappear.

And Kongpob didn't leave the house. He checked the doors and windows constantly, keeping a knife with him for self-defense. Knowing damn well, he wouldn't use it. He couldn't.

Marie had called him to check up. Kongpob had never missed more than a day of work at once. He wasn't that type of person. But he refused to let anyone come over and he refused to leave his sanctuary. Even though the house barely felt safe, he couldn't face the world.

After a week of skipping his duties, he stepped out. His face resembling the nightmare he lived. But he was thankful that no one pointed it out.

And it was like deja vu. How silent and still everything was. Letting Kongpob think everything was okay.