A/N: The image above does not belong to me. It belongs to the person who uploaded it on the internet.
Third Person POV
Berkah turned his head at the sound of someone coughing. Oh shit, it was Gun. Had his throat gotten irritated by the cigarette smoke?
Berkah snuffed out the glowing end of his cigarette stick into the ashtray that had been provided on the wooden table in the smoking area of the courtyard. Then he stood up from the cement bench and went running after Gun.
"Gun!" he called out. "Were you looking for me? I'm sorry if my cigarette smoke bothered you!"
"It's okay," Gun assured Berkah, but still coughing occasionally.
"So where did Mark take you for lunch?" Berkah asked. "That was a very quick lunch that you had with him."
"Actually I ended up not having any lunch with him," Gun confessed
"Why not?" Berkah asked, his eyebrows raised.
Gun shook his head. "Hard to explain," he said. "I just didn't think that it was a good idea to have lunch with the employer's son."
"I agree with you," Berkah remarked quickly. "If he has any intentions towards you, it would cause a lot of problems with your employment here. I suggest that you stay away from him."
Gun nodded. "That's the best thing to do, in my opinion as well."
"Come let's clock back in and start working on the inventory in the supplies room," Berkah suggested, taking Gun's hand.
They met Mark in the hallway leading to the supplies room. Mark gave Berkah a scowl when he noticed that Berkah was holding Gun's hand, but he did not say a word. Instead he turned and stopped in front of the door to his father's office and knocked on it.
Gun turned to Berkah with a worried frown.
"Do you think he will ask his father to fire me?" Gun asked in a whisper.
"Let's hope not," Berkah replied. "But if that ever happens, you can always come with me to my parents' house. They have newly opened a grocery store and need my help to run it that is why I am quitting by next week."
"I can be your assistant there," Gun offered.
"Of course!" Berkah replied. "I wasn't planning to let you live with me for free. You will have to earn your keep. In that way, you would feel independent."
Gun nodded gratefully.
= = = = = = = = =
"Come in," Mr. Siwat called out from his desk when he heard the knock.
Mark opened the door and walked in.
"Do you have a few minutes to spare, Dad?" Mark asked, his heart beating faster than usual.
"Of course, son," Mr. Siwat assured Mark. "Is there anything troubling you, son?"
Mark sat down slowly on the chair that was right across from his dad and took a minute before speaking.
"Well?" Mr. Siwat prompted his son, upon seeing Mark's hesitation.
"I'm... I'm not sure if you will approve of it, but would it be okay to ask our new general assistant to keep me company in my private suite upstairs?" Mark asked, his voice coming out breathy because he was feeling like he could not breathe very well at that moment.
"And why is that, if you don't mind my asking," Mr. Siwat's face took on a worried look.
Again, it took Mark a few minutes before he spoke again.
"Sometimes I wake up at night with leg cramps and the pain can be unbearable if there is no one to massage either of my affected leg until the cramps die down," Mark explained.
"How long has this been happening?" Mr. Siwat asked. "You have never mentioned this problem of yours before."
"I did not want to worry you, Dad," Mark said, his heart still beating fast. "But now that we have an extra employee, I just thought that maybe it was time to take care of my problem."
Mr. Siwat tapped on his desk with the end of his pen, deep in thought. He did not respond to his son's request right away.
"What if ... " Mr. Siwat finally spoke.
Oh shit, here comes my big fat reject, Mark thought.
"What if he declines," Mr. Siwat said. "What if he feels uncomfortable with the idea of sharing a room, much less a bed, with you?"
Mark did not have an immediate answer to that.