07. PILLOW TALK

“DEAR MR. KORAWIK AND TEAM: ON BEHALF OF NECTEC,

WE ARE PLEASED TO PRESENT THE A-KHAO HONORARY AWARD.”*

(*) National Electronics and Computer Technology Center.

A notification popped up in the corner of Pheem’s laptop. It came from NECTEC. After quickly reading the purpose of the message, Pheem turned to his coworker, who was focused on coding at his computer.

“Marwin, I have a favor to ask, just a small one,” Pheem said.

“What?” Marwin swiveled his chair to face him. Pheem used the moment to pull his own chair closer, confronting him directly.

“Sunday there’s the NECTEC awards ceremony. Ko won an award for the Khao app, and I want you to go receive it in his place.”

“I don’t have time,” Marwin replied curtly.

“You’re lying, I already checked your work schedule.”

“Well, isn’t that nice of you to check my calendar, huh? And why do I have to accept the award for Ko?”

Marwin was in full “employee-about-to-be-fired” mode. He came to work just to complete his tasks; putting in extra effort for the organization made no sense-especially for something related to Ko, whom he still somewhat feared.

“It would look bad not to attend if you’ve already been invited,” Pheem continued, revealing the real reason.

“It’s good for you. Lots of people from the tech sector will be there, at least you can make some contacts.”

“That sounds a bit more reasonable,” Marwin admitted. “So, will you go or not?”
“Fine, fine,” Marwin agreed, adding his trademark sarcasm: “I’ll do it so well they won’t forget it.”

At that moment, Pheem’s phone rang. Seeing the name on the screen, he answered immediately.

“Hello,” he said in a low voice.

Seconds later, Jira’s clear voice came through:

[I finished work early today. Can I come see you?]

Pheem looked surprised but didn’t ask for details. He simply smiled. “Sure, let’s meet at my office caf , okay?”
The meeting was set quickly. Pheem hung up and looked up, only to find Marwin giving him a frustrated glare.

“Wow, your face changed in a second,” Marwin joked. “Your face looks like clay,” Pheem shot back.
“What happened? Who’s coming?” Marwin asked, using a flirtatious tone and a suggestive glance, like he often did with his crushes.

“Stop!” Pheem thought of Jira coming over and was already planning the evening. If the conversation flowed and the mood was right, he intended to invite him to his condo to get closer.

“Hey, tonight you have to go back to your room.”

“Again? What if you pay for the hotel?” Marwin teased, knowing Pheem likely had plans for a one-night adventure. The nickname “Casanova” wasn’t for nothing: Pheem could charm anyone, always got what he wanted, and making romantic plans came effortlessly.

“Deal. Maximum two thousand, okay?”

For Pheem, solving problems with money was always the easiest option. “Deal. See you tomorrow,” Marwin accepted.
Pheem stood, patted Marwin on the shoulder with a friendly smile, his eyes shining.

 

The sun was setting, painting the sky a yellow-orange hue. Inside the dimly lit room, Ko slowly opened his eyes. He had slept for hours. No nightmares, no jolts awake. His face looked unusually refreshed.

It had been a long time since he’d slept so well. Sitting atop a pile of clothes, he remained still, savoring the feeling of completeness. His mind replayed the events: he’d let Jira draw him, talked briefly about childhood memories, started folding clothes, and somewhere along the way had fallen asleep without realizing it.

When he woke, nearly six hours had passed.

The downside was that he’d neglected important tasks, but the benefit made up for it: he hadn’t realized how much joy a deep, uninterrupted sleep could bring.

Feeling a bit lazy, he looked around and noticed Jira was gone. He grabbed a T-shirt and some long pants from the floor, quickly dressed, and left the bedroom to look for the young man-but couldn’t find him.

Seeing no sign of him, Ko went to his desk, grabbed a plum liquor, and drank it to quench his thirst, instead of water.

 

Jira arrived at the entrance of a tech company on a motorcycle. He took off his helmet, returned it to the driver, and cheerfully said, “Already paid with the card, thanks.”

The driver nodded and left. Jira didn’t waste any time and entered the office, where Pheem was waiting for him.

Pheem led him to a common area-a relaxed space to rest or work informally. In front of them, a large window offered a clear view of the tall buildings.

“What brings you here?” Pheem asked, placing a coffee in front of Jira and sitting down with a smile, crossing his legs and arms.

Jira took a sip of coffee.

“I remember in the chat you shared 2000s songs, so I saved a few on a USB drive for you to listen to while you work.”

With that, he pulled a USB from his backpack and slid it toward Pheem, who looked surprised.

“Really?”

“I thought it through-I think you’ll like them.”

“How sweet. And you had to bring it on a USB? What year is this?” Pheem joked. “To keep the spirit of the 2000s,” Jira replied.
“You’re more detail-oriented than I thought,” said Pheem.

Jira smiled at the compliment and countered playfully, “I’m only detail-oriented with people I care about.”

Pheem grinned mischievously. If Jira wanted to play, he could play too. Without wasting time, he got to the point:

“Have you eaten yet? Should we get something?” “Sure, you pick.”
“Are you free tonight? Want to come to my room?”

“Why suddenly invite me to your room?”

“I have a sound system that matches the songs you put on the USB. Interested in hearing them in my room? I’ve got a speaker I set up myself-you’ll love it.”

Jira picked up on Pheem’s intentions. Although it felt like they were getting close too fast, he thought if both were on the same wavelength, time didn’t matter.

Jira nodded, accepting the invitation. Pheem offered to take him out for dinner. They ate, tried delicious dishes, exchanged opinions, and shared recent experiences, both good and bad. Of course, in the entire conversation…

…Ko was never mentioned.

 

It was nearly eleven at night when the condo door swung open, admitting two people. The room was large and appeared disordered, as is typical for two single friends: clothes scattered around, beer cans stacked on the table and counters.

To the right, there was a living area with a large TV mounted on the wall and an oddly designed speaker Jira had never seen. Without much ado, Pheem plugged the USB into the sound system while Jira settled into an orange swivel chair.

“The speaker is as cool as you said,” Jira commented. “I told you you’d like it. Listen to this.”
The music started, a strong bass marking the beginning. As the lyrics of the first song on the playlist played, Pheem recognized “Jealous” by Silly Fools.

“Is this the first one?” Pheem asked, surprised at how well Jira knew him as he sat down on the sofa beside him.

“I just guessed. I remember this was the first song you sent me on Line.” “And do you know why I like it?”
“Because it’s catchy.”

“No, because I’m jealous, like the title says.”

Pheem leaned toward Jira, giving him a seductive look, as if he were about to devour him.

The atmosphere was set for a romantic moment: a private room, music they both enjoyed, a natural conversation. Above all, Jira was exactly Pheem’s type, and Pheem was exactly Jira’s.

Their bodies drew closer, noses almost brushing, when the sound of an incoming call on Jira’s phone interrupted the moment, breaking the atmosphere.

Jira glanced at the screen and, seeing it was Ko, immediately declined the call. “Aren’t you going to answer?” Pheem asked, surprised.
“For what? It’s outside work hours.”

“You’re brave. I couldn’t. If Ko calls me, I have to pick up.”

“Don’t be afraid. Look at me, I’m not scared,” Jira said, taking Pheem’s face in both hands and gently turning it so he could meet his eyes.

“No, you’re not afraid,” Pheem replied, lost in Jira’s gaze. In that moment, he felt nothing but fascination. Jira noticed.

“What does it mean to look at me like that?” he asked, and Pheem shrugged, evading. “You asked me to look at you.”
“Your eyes are pure flirtation. I’m sure you look at everyone like that.” “And what if I tell you I only look at you like this? Would you believe me?”
It didn’t matter whether Jira believed him or not. They were in the room; there wasn’t much left to debate.

Before they could savor the shyness or lose composure, Jira’s phone rang again. Seeing it was Ko once more, he hesitated, glancing at Pheem for advice.

“I’d answer. It could be important,” Pheem suggested.

Jira sighed, excused himself, and went out to the balcony to take the call. He took a deep breath, gathering courage before answering.

“What’s up?” he asked.

“I can’t sleep. Where are you?”

On the other end, Ko was lying on a pile of clothes he had thrown on the bed, wearing only a T-shirt and sweatpants, phone pressed to his ear. His face was expressionless, but his eyes reflected exhaustion from trying to sleep again.

He had slept deeply during the day, but that had been exceptional. Wanting to understand why and test a theory, he called Jira.

“I’m with a friend. It’s late, you know.”

“Come to my room. I want you to keep me company.” “Why would I go? There are limits.”

“I’ll pay extra, but come now.” Ko issued the order, using every tool at his disposal to negotiate.

“I’ll consider it for your next drawing. If not, our deal is off.”

Jira was shocked. He turned to look at Pheem, who watched him through the glass. He hated being caught in this crossroads, but what weighed most was having to refuse Pheem.

“What are you going to do? Are you coming or not?” Ko pressed. Jira knew he was serious and that this could be his last chance.

“Alright, damn it…”

With no argument left, he reluctantly agreed and hung up. He looked at Pheem, who sighed as if he understood his fate. He leaned back on the sofa, hands behind his neck, staring at the ceiling, resigned.

His lips kept repeating: “Damn Ko, damn Ko, damn Ko…”

 

Past midnight, the elevator of a luxury hotel opened. Jira walked down the hallway, wearing the same clothes he had all day. Upon reaching the room door, he knocked.

Ko opened the door and led Jira into the bedroom. Hesitant, Jira stopped at the sofa, dropped his backpack, and asked:

“Did you call me just to sleep?” “Follow me.”
Ko offered no further explanation, merely beckoning him. Reluctantly, Jira followed.

Not paying attention to the king-size bed in the center of the room, he didn’t notice that Ko, a few steps away, locked the door. The sound startled him, and he spun around quickly.

“Why did you lock the door?”

Ko advanced toward him with an intimidating air, a cunning expression hinting at something suspicious. Scared, Jira stepped back until he bumped against the edge of the bed, falling on his back, barely able to get up.

“Hey, stop! What are you going to do?” Jira shouted, trying to halt him. Luckily, it worked. Ko stopped but still looked at him with an air of superiority. “This is my room. I can be wherever I want and do whatever I want.”
“You’re scaring me. If you don’t have anything else, I’ll leave.” Jira used his last strength to stand and tried to run to the door, but Ko blocked him.

“You can’t leave. Tonight you’re sleeping with me.”

Jira’s eyes widened, astonished by what he had just heard. He didn’t know if “sleeping” was literal or something more. They stared at each other.

“Get on the bed, let’s start now,” Ko ordered in a deep voice.

Jira swallowed hard, frozen. Ko said no more, and the silence, heavy with tension, enveloped the room. Unable to bear the uncertainty, Jira asked clearly:

“Sleeping with you? What does that mean?” “Isn’t it obvious?”
“You said you’d pay me extra. Is it… to sleep with you?”

Ko narrowed his eyes and let out a short laugh before resuming his serious expression. “I just want you to keep me company. The payment is for the work, as agreed.”
Quite a twist.

Jira exhaled, relieved that he wouldn’t have to undress as he feared. But there was still a problem.

“Why do I have to keep you company? Are you a child who needs a lullaby to sleep?”

“This afternoon I fell asleep for the first time without pills. I thought you could help me sleep.” “And what do I have to do with that?”
“Everything. I tried sleeping on a pile of clothes, and it didn’t work.” “You sleep too much. Wait until you’re really tired,” Jira replied.
Ko ignored him and asked: “Are you going to come sleep or not?”

He walked to the bed, climbed on, and lay against the pillows, looking at Jira, expecting him to obey without question. But it didn’t work, as Jira responded:

“I can’t sleep with a dirty body without showering.”

“I don’t want to wait. I want to sleep. Here’s the deal: when I fall asleep, you shower.”

“The toothbrush is in the sink. The towel and pajamas are on the bathroom rack. The butler set it all up.”

Jira pressed his lips, no more excuses left to refuse. Finally, he agreed, just to put an end to it.

“And how am I supposed to make you sleep?”

“I don’t know. For starters, put the clothes away in the closet.”

Ko adjusted the pillow and spoke in a soft voice, covering himself with the sheet up to his chest. He looked like a child about to fall asleep.

Jira rolled his eyes but obeyed. He picked up the clothes from the bed, folded them carefully, and put them away in the closet. Ko watched him, enjoying the display, a faint smile on his lips.

“Can you talk about something?” Ko asked in a sleepy voice.

Jira looked at the man on the bed, and his heart softened at the sight of such an innocent face and pleading eyes, so different from the authoritative boss from that morning.

“I don’t want to talk with you. I’m afraid we’ll argue. You’re… different from the others.” “And how am I?”
“Like the villain in a soap opera.”

Jira continued folding and putting away the clothes.

“But you chose this villain as the model for your drawing,” Ko replied.

“Feelings and art aren’t predictable. The good doesn’t always inspire, and the bad sometimes creates more impact.”

Jira looked at Ko, barely moving.

“When I saw you, I felt something familiar. That was enough to draw you.” “What do you mean?”
“Creating a piece takes a lot of physical and mental effort. It’s not like snapping your fingers or giving a prompt to an AI.”

Jira thought about how hard it was to create a piece, wait for inspiration, the perfect moment, and then deal with the uncertainty of whether it would sell.

“I’m asking seriously, no beating around the bush. Why do you like my drawing?” It was something Jira had always wanted to know.
“I don’t interact much with people. When someone looks at me differently, it surprises me.” “Differently?”
“As if they don’t see me negatively.” “So… a lot of people hate you?”

“Probably.”

“Is there anything in my work you don’t like?” “What a weird question.”
“Artists need to know how our work impacts others. Since you’re the only one who’s seen it, your opinion helps me improve.”

Ko thought for a moment.

“It’s not that there’s something I don’t like. If I don’t think it’s me, the character in the drawing seems mysterious and sexy. I want to see more.”

“See more of what?”

“I want to know how their story continues.”

“Keep being the villain you like to be, and I’ll find a way to draw it. Just give me another chance.”

Ko, increasingly drowsy, nodded. Jira looked at him with hope, wishing he could draw him again to refine his technique.

“Hey,” Ko murmured. “What?”
“Maybe I’m really bad for you. Do you think you could come to like me?” “Eh?”
“Do you… like me?”

Jira hadn’t expected the question. He didn’t know what Ko wanted or how to answer, so he remained silent. Fortunately, when he looked at Ko, he didn’t seem to expect a definitive answer.

“Is it a hard question?” Ko asked in a barely audible voice. “Yes.”
“Just say if you like me or not.”

“First, tell me in what context you want me to answer.” “As boss and employee.”
“Easy. I hate you.”

“Aren’t you going to soften it a bit?”

“No.”

“One more. As a man?”

Jira turned, kept putting the clothes in the closet, and didn’t answer. Ko didn’t insist, just watched quietly. The sound of Jira’s methodical steps soothed him in a strange way, and little by little, he closed his eyes.

When Jira finished putting away the clothes, he turned and saw that Ko was already asleep. “You fell asleep so fast? Do you really have insomnia?”
The day had been exhausting for Jira, full of unexpected events: drawing for Ko, meeting Pheem, and now being in Ko’s room without doing anything extraordinary.

He simply watched Ko sleep deeply in the bed, a peacefulness he hadn’t seen in the man before.