Beam pushed the survivors of the war on the basketball court into his room. The light turns on automatically when the person enters.
Beam pointed to the sofa. "Sit and wait there. I'll check on you."
The man sits on the sofa. He hadn't spoken at all since Beam grabbed his hand and led him running away from the basketball court to his room.
Beam took the medicine box from the bathroom and walked over to the man sitting on the sofa. He studied the man and clicked his tongue.
A laceration to the chin and right cheek, an almost purple bruise on the outer corner of the left eye, a claw wound on the right neck, several bruises and other wounds on his hand.
Beam began to clean the wounds one by one. The man flinched every time Beam touched his wounds. "Shut up. This must be less painful than what you've been through. You must have endurance strong enough to stay awake after that terrible war on the field. All your friends are unconscious and I'm sure some of them will need to the hospital."
The man sighed and flinched again when Beam touched his neck. "I hate to see fights, whoever is involved, but I can't stand watching people get hurt, moreover I know that person will be in other danger. Which college are you in? Economics? Don't tell me you guys are fighting with engineering kids. They are like wild animals. Wolves. You better don't ruin them."
"Who are you?" the man asked. "I never saw you before in economics college."
Beam paused to change the cotton. "I'm not an economics student. I'm a medical student, second year. I just finished dinner at the economics campus food court and decided to take a short walk before heading back to the dorms, when I found you in the field. How many of your friends are unconscious?"
"They're not my friends," the man muttered.
Beam raised an eyebrow. "So it was a random battle?"
"There's no such thing as a random battle. There's always a reason behind every battle," the man muttered. "You're far from your campus and dormitory. It's dangerous to walk alone at night, for someone . . . like you."
Beam's eyebrows shot up and he chuckled. "A person like me? What am I doing?"
"Medical student, handsome, clean, classy in your clothes, and obviously you come from a rich family. Criminals like people like you."
Beam applied ointment to the wound on the man's neck while laughing. "You're funny," he said. He started to unbutton the man's shirt, but his hand was caught by the man's hand.
"What are you doing?"
"I need to check for broken bones," Beam said calmly as he pushed the man's hand away. He unbuttoned the man's shirt and held his breath for a moment seeing his broad chest and six pack abs in front of his eyes.
Beam touched a few places and admired the tough muscles beneath the tan skin. A tattoo of a three-headed dragon adorns the center of the hard stomach.
"Thankfully there were no internal injuries or broken bones. You are strong."
The man buttoned his shirt again. The sound of a telephone came from his jacket pocket. He took his phone, while Beam cleared his medicine box. "Yeah? No. I'm in... um, somewhere. I'll be right there."
The man turned off the phone and stood up. He looked awkward. "I have to go. Thanks for your help. I'll get back to you someday. I will find you in medical."
Beam smiled and handed him a small plastic bag. "No need. Just be carefull and stop fighting, will you? Ah, you might catch a fever later. It's a painkiller. Take two before bed."
The man looked at Beam before taking the medicine Beam gave him.
"By the way, my name is Baramee. Beam Baramee."
The man nodded and left Beam's room without saying anything. Beam locked the bedroom door and was getting ready to get into bed, when a knock sounded at the door.
He opened the door and the man was standing in front of him. "My name is Jaturapoom."
Beam smiled widely and nodded. "Hi, Poom. Nice to meet you."
*****