When the class ended, Net gathered his papers and stepped down the podium. Students slowly left the room, chatting softly.
James lingered, his bag half-zipped. “Ajarn Net,” he said, voice small but steady, “thank you for today’s lecture.”
Net turned toward him.
The sound of that voice — it was ordinary, yet something within it struck him like a soft echo from centuries past.
For a brief moment, he saw another boy, another lifetime — laughing under cherry blossoms that never bloomed again.
He swallowed the ghost. “You’re welcome,” Net replied, his tone even. “You’re… James, correct?”
James blinked. “Ah — yes. James Supamongkon, second-year.”
“Good.” Net nodded lightly. “You were attentive. That’s rare these days.”
A small, genuine smile flickered across the younger man’s lips.
“I… like listening to you, Ajarn. You explain things like stories, not lessons.”
Net stilled.
He had heard that before — long ago, from a voice he thought he’d forgotten. That same warmth, that same unguarded honesty.
The world spun quietly behind his eyes, but outwardly he only gave a faint nod.
“Stories are all I’ve ever known,” he murmured, barely audible.
James tilted his head. “Sorry?”
“Nothing,”
Net said quickly, slipping his papers into his bag. “You should go before it rains again.”
....
That night, Net walked alone through the old quarter of Bangkok.
The city’s lights shimmered across puddles, neon bleeding into water like streaks of broken stars.
His shoes echoed against the empty pavement as he glanced toward the sky — gray, heavy, indifferent.
How many lives had passed since he last felt his pulse quicken for someone human?
Two hundred years?
Maybe more?
He had sworn off attachment.
Immortals who once defied heaven were cursed to walk the earth until their penance was complete.
Love, especially with a mortal, was forbidden — it drew the attention of Heaven’s eyes, and their punishment was merciless. But James’s gaze lingered in his mind like a persistent flame.
It wasn’t desire yet.
It was recognition.
The face of a boy he once loved in another century — a painter in Sukhothai, who died in his arms before the first sunrise.
He exhaled sharply, shoving the memory down.
“Never again,”
He whispered to the night.
....
Meanwhile, James was closing up the café near campus.
His hands were cold from washing cups, his uniform damp with steam. He stretched, groaning softly, then glanced out at the rain-soaked street.
YOU ARE READING
ETERNAL SIN
FanfictionEven demons can fall for the light they once lost. They were once angels - now cursed as demons for defying heaven. For two thousand years, they've walked among mortals, immortal but hollow, carrying memories that never fade. Until love returns - in...
•2• (NETJAMES)
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