The Second Chance [Kongpob/Arthit]

Chapter 5 : Prickly Thorn, but Sweetly Worn

"I was following you, but then 0062 -"

"Don't take his name -"

Tuta frowned, rummaging through the first aid box for a bandage. 

"I didn't, actually. Why are you mad at him anyway? He saved you -"

"I was handling the situation. His interference was completely unnecessary. "

Tuta didn't have the guts to contradict the raging bull, he simply gave Arthit a dubious look. He allowed his worry to show. 

"But seriously, are you alright, Arthit?"

"Yes."

Tuta shoved Arthit off the couch, settling down himself. He fluffed the cushions, trying to find a comfortable position. 

"Let me sleep over, okay?"

"Hmm."

Arthit threw a set of blankets in the general direction of the sofa. Tuta hid his smile, for all his tough exterior, Arthit had such a soft heart. 

"If I hear you snore, I'm throwing you out."

Tuta hummed noncommittally, tugging the blankets over his torso. 

"N'Kong is very handsome, isn't he? Do you think, I have a shot with him?"

A tense silence followed during which Tuta assumed Arthit had fallen asleep. 

"Tuta, get out!"

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Arthit was running late, he took the steps two at a time. He wondered whether he would be able to catch the bus in time. In his haste, he had wandered to the middle of the road. A honk brought him to his senses. He signalled with his hand, for the motorbike to pass. The motorcyclist stopped a few metres short of him, taking off his helmet. 

"Need a ride, P'Arthit?"

Arthit was awestruck at the sight before his eyes, Kongpob's svelte figure was decked in a leather jacket. Arthit felt his mouth go dry, he was certain without a doubt his face had gone red. He made a pretense of fanning himself, hoping Kongpob would attribute his flushed face to the heat. 

"I'll just wait for the bus."

"Are you sure? It looks like the bus hasn't come in a while. Will you be able to make it?"

Arthit hesitated, in his three years of employment he hadn't been late even once. As he was making up his mind, Kongpob tossed him his spare helmet. 

"Just get on. Unless you're scared -"

"Who's scared?"

Arthit swung his leg over the seat, grabbing on to it as Kongpob sped up. The strong breeze was playing havoc with his hair, Arthit couldn't help smile. Kongpob hit on the brakes suddenly, wrenching Arthit forward. 

"Here, hold on to me, P'Arthit."

Kongpob's hands forced Arthit's arms around his waist. Before he could protest at the liberties Kongpob was taking, he was expertly maneuvering around the traffic. Arthit felt relieved as the office gate came in his field of view. 

He fussed with the clasps of the helmet, wrenching it off his head and thrusting it into Kongpob's arms. 

"That's the last time I'm getting on your death trap -"

Arthit had almost reached the door when he heard Kongpob's shout. 

"You're welcome, P'"

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