Etched.

Chapter 7

"Your whore," Kongpob replied, as a matter of fact.

Emotionless and blank. The eyes that held so much were dead. The shine was extinguished. The mesmerizing smile wasn't spotted even once. Kongpob wasn't Kongpob anymore.

He wasn't the submitting, willing boy that Arthit enjoyed watching each expression fleet across his face. How Kongpob would cry and scream. Moan and plead.

But now, there was nothing. Just Arthit's grunts and soft moans while Kongpob kept staring at the ceiling no matter what Arthit did. And Arthit knew he was pushing the limits, but Kongpob showed nothing. It was like he didn't actually feel anything.

Arthit looked down and saw nothing. Nothing in his face indicated that he was there. It was like someone had replaced Kongpob.

Just his body, not him. And that's all Arthit had wanted until he had unknowingly desired to be lost in the sparkling eyes somewhere along the line.

Arthit stopped, loosening his hand around Kongpob's neck, and released the handcuffs, ropes, rings, and clamps.

"If you're going to lie there dead like a log, might as well be one," Arthit hissed, gripping Kongpob's jaw and staring into Kongpob's eyes. His eyes blazing with rage.

Kongpob looked at him, holding the stare. Something he wasn't able to do before. "Do you hear me?" Arthit leaned down and hissed against Kongpob's lips, staring at him with a glint.

"Yes," Kongpob replied, closing his eyes and letting Arthit do whatever he wanted. He put his arms up, "end the suffering."

Arthit pulled back, staring at the pale, sunken face. He wanted to caress the face, Kongpob looked so tired. Like he wasn't eating or sleeping. His lips chapped, skin dry and bruised. And they weren't healing as they were before.

Kongpob looked dead like he wasn't living. And it slowly started looking like he wasn't surviving either. And a little part of Arthit was alarmed. But why should he? This is what he wanted from the beginning, to break him to nothingness. And he did it. Finally destroyed the never-ending joy in Kongpob's eyes. Finally blew down the spark that could change the world.

"I guess this is when I find my new toy. Because the old one is boring and broken," Arthit shrugged, a part of him hurting for saying those things. And the other part thriving seeing some pain morph into Kongpob's face.

Kongpob stared at him, the tears streaming down. Wetting the back of his hair and neck. Kongpob lunged forward to grab at Arthit's arm, before quickly putting it down. Looking back up at the ceiling. His face going blank the next moment.

Arthit felt a strong pang in his heart that he didn't express. Gripping the sheets on either side of Kongpob and getting up. Kongpob wanted to beg, but Arthit was right. He had nothing left. Arthit took it all. And Kongpob was happy it was Arthit that got Kongpob. It soothed some of the pain. Like a soft breeze on a small cut.

Arthit stood by the doorframe, hesitating to leave. He looked back and saw Kongpob staring at the ceiling continuously. And something told Arthit that that's all Kongpob did anymore. He could feel it. The softness he used to feel, being bonier and dry.

But Kongpob still looked so beautiful, even in his state of numbness. Even in the deepest pains, he was experienced, he could mesmerize people. He could always turn heads, and Arthit knew. He knew that nothing he could do to Kongpob would take that away.

Arthit left, feeling he had no choice. He never experienced this before, the hesitation and softness. He was rough, hard, and cold. He had been for a very long time. And he vowed he'd keep it that way. And no beautiful girl or boy ever fascinated him as Kongpob did.