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Arthit's POV

"Do you want to have lunch outside?" Kongpob and I were driving back to the company, having attended a 2-hour long convention. We stopped at a signal and Kongpob rolled up the sleeves of his crisp white shirt. My eyes habitually drifted to his bronzed and now bare forearms as I felt the familiar urge to run my hands over them.

"I actually have a short video conference once I get back. I can drop you off somewhere, if you want."

"But you had no pending meetings, the last time I checked."

"That's because it wasn't pre-arranged. I got a call a few minutes back, demanding my presence."

"Is something wrong?"

He turned to me quizzically. "No, it's just for discussing the FPO."

"I meant, is something wrong with...us?"

His muscles tensed, and he shook his head while maintaining a firm gaze at the road.

"You've been avoiding me like the plague. Every time I want to spend time with you, you make a run for the hills and I can't seem to put my finger on the reason. Did I do something wrong? As a friend, I think you owe me an explanation."

"I don't know what you're talking about." Our bodies jerked faintly as the car lurched, bringing us to a halt. We had reached office and it didn't take Kongpob more than half a second to unlock his seatbelt and jump out of his vehicle.

I caught up to him and held him back by the shoulder.

I was taken aback by the look of irritation, his face held. So, I pulled my hand off him, instantly missing the warmth.

"Is it because of what happened that day? I am sorry if I did something that angered you. I didn't know what happened to me that day."

"What?" I was about to explain as he cut me off. "Never mind, I don't want to talk about it right now."

"But I want to. You'll leave for Taipei today; I want to clear the air between us by then. Just tell me what's wrong. Please?"

"There is nothing wrong Arthit." He enunciated each syllable with his eyes closed.

"Don't lie to-

"There is nothing that's freaking wrong Arthit!" His voice tremored, as if encumbered by anger mingled with vulnerability. It took him a while to compose himself.

"I think I am done for the day; you should head home too."

I tipped my back against a pillar after he left, fighting back tears that were threatening to spill. Why does he affect me so much? Even as I was furious, all I could think was that it'll be impossible to see Kongpob for a while and that I'd miss his presence. NO. I needed to get a grip, even if it's the hardest thing to do.


Yet, my resolve drew its last breath as I laid my eyes upon a raven, perched on a bark, right outside the window that cornered my cubicle. And it reminded me of Kongpob. Ravens always remind me of him. The weird analogy could be attributable to the it's jet-black colour, one which Kongpob's perpetually groomed hair had adopted. I glanced at the bird from time to time while working on my computer. Expecting its Kongpob-like presence to quench my longing.

It had been four excruciating days since I had last seen him. Even though I was angry with him and determined to give him the cold shoulder on his return, I couldn't disregard the blatant fact that I missed him. I missed the comforting but exciting stench, the capable arms that begged to be touched and the eyes that revealed pools of compassion.

Glancing at my phone, I vacillated between continuing my vexation or just giving in and calling him. But what do I say? All the required and strictly professional conversations happen via mail or text, leaving me with no defense if I decided on calling him. While I debated between the two, my phone rang. It was Siri on the other end.

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