In Your Time

Fourteen

Win sat at the back and glanced out the window as Gun, his new personal assistant ran him through his schedule tomorrow. It was quite easy for Win to go into modeling and work as a product endorser as well since he already had a fanbase, thanks to his artworks. I dread going back home, he thought as he tuned out whatever it was that Gun was updating him about. Another meal alone. Maybe I should start dating again? Ugh, no. I've been too traumatized with what happened with Namtan. I can't even think about seeing another woman without feeling chills.

"Gun, do you want to eat with me?" Win suddenly asked.

Gun looked up from his phone and glanced behind him. He was sitting in the passenger seat, directly in front of Win. "Are you asking me as your employee or as something outside of work?" the man clarified.

"Whichever one will get you to agree."

Gun narrowed his gaze. "Where shall we eat then, Sir?"

"Table 71." Win answered, "I miss eating their braised beef in red wine and with mashed potatoes on the side. Also, can you repeat what you were saying? I kind of spaced out."

"Sir Win, if you don't mind me saying," Gun began as he turned off his phone. "I've been working for you for a little more than a month now and I've seen your schedule for the next three months. I've noticed that you don't have any personal schedules. It's all work related. Shall I schedule some time away with your friends? Maybe your family?"

Win chuckled. "I don't have friends. It comes with my misunderstood artist vibe. Thank you for your concern but that's not what I pay you for."

Gun sighed and nodded. "Going back then, you'll have a shoot with Ms Mild tomorrow then after that a phone interview with Bangkok Times. Next is a meeting with the Prada regional director to discuss your next project with them. That's probably going to be around dinner time."

Great! I'll have people to eat with. Win mentally cheered. "Sounds great, Gun. Find me more projects so I'm always busy. It's too boring at home."

—

71 Restaurant

Win and Gun had just finished ordering and the two of them awkwardly sat in front of each other. "So, Gun, tell me about yourself." Win started. He used to enjoy having conversations during meals with Mew but with Mew gone, that's gone too. "What do you like to do with your free time?"

"As of the moment, having free time is non-existent to me."

Win snorted. "I don't work you that hard. Don't be silly."

Gun just pursed his lips. "Our food is here. Thank you for dinner."

Thank you for eating with me. Win thought as he smiled at his assistant. Standing side by side, Gun looked like his little brother because of their height difference but for what Gun lacks in height, he definitely makes up for his competence, initiative, and organizational skills. Win wasn't letting this one go.

The two stole glances with each other as they ate. Probably trying to find a topic to talk about but not wanting to discuss work at the same time. However, Gun reminded himself that he was here as an employee, and not as a friend or acquaintance. He tried to stop himself from being too nosy with his boss' personal matters but he has never seen him be with a friend or go to a family gathering. Was that normal? Was he really a misunderstood artist? Do artists need to be so melancholic so that their work would be considered beautiful? Looking back now, Gun noticed that most artists whose work really touched the lives of people were those with a melancholic, sad attitude just like Win.