Rule No. 1: Don’t be too emotional : Chapter 34

Even I have to cry but I’ll be patient.

Just to see you smile again.

Our last page let’s make it memorable. No such love as romance as this love

[Jane Patrick’s talk]

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Jane Patrick’s POV

My name is Jane.

Jane Patrick Terry Palakorn. I am sitting on the edge of the bed. It is currently 6: 45: 30 PM. I am certain of the time because I’ve been staring at the wall clock for quite a while. Outside, the sun casts an orange glow across the sky, spilling into this condominium and staining one side of the wall the same amber hue.

I turn back to the bed. Beneath the navy-blue duvet, a figure lies curled up. Jenalee has fallen asleep-a deep slumber on the six-foot bed, with tear stains still smudging his cheeks. The outburst must have exhausted him. We are both still dressed in pitch black. I use my finger to gently wipe away a stray tear from under his eye.

Jane might not know this, but I can look at his face forever without getting bored. He often thinks of himself as ordinary, even though he is as lovely as anyone else. His face is clean and natural; his almond-shaped eyes have “hidden” double eyelids that almost look like single lids. The tip of his nose is rounded, and his pink lips are small and delicate.

His skin is flawless, save for a single tiny mole on his left cheek. While he isn’t conventionally “sharp” or “pretty,” his features are soft and captivating. His skin is fair-not the cool-toned white of my American heritage, but a beautiful warm ivory. His personality and character combine to make him look more like a boy who hasn’t quite grown up rather than a full-grown man.

He gives off the vibe of a bright, vivid spring day. Yet, in moments of passion, his body and face are as seductive as anyone’s. I love the way his eyes narrow; it’s so provocative that I can never restrain myself. If he thinks he’s ordinary, he is an extraordinarily special kind of ordinary. I’ve tried to correct his misunderstanding of himself many times, but he never seems to get it right.

If he wasn’t this lovely, would so many people want him? I am one of those people… I gently stroke his clear cheek, watching him sleep for a long moment. Jane used to be a bright, cheerful boy who laughed loudly, ate with gusto, and found happiness in clouds that looked prettier than usual. He was a person who loved his family and friends, willing to sacrifice himself for those he loved-look at how he handled Jet’s gambling debt.

He once told me clearly that happiness is simple. !still remember his smile when he told me: “So, can l ask you? What was the happiest day of your life?” “That’s easy.” “Uh-huh?” “The day I got into university. I saw the smiles on my father’s and mother’s faces, and I thought I wanted to keep those smiles around for a long time.

But really, P’, I’m a simple person. I find happiness easily. I think happiness just comes from simple things, right? Like, today the laundry smells really good, or today the clouds are prettier than usual. That’s enough to make me happy.” Looking back over the past few months, however, there is only the image of him in misery-worried, crying, thinning, his heart heavy but trying to endure.

Even when he didn’t want to endure, I told him to. I know exactly how sensitive he is. The image of the bright Jane seems to be drifting further and further away. And that makes me realize something I’ve never realized before. He isn’t the same person anymore. I am the one who changed him. Now, he is stained, ruined, and broken-like a white canvas that has been splashed with chaotic colors.

He can’t even control himself anymore. The happiness Jane once had is like ice cream melting in the sun. And I am that sun. The things I liked and admired about him were simple and uncomplicated. But he isn’t that way anymore. Those simple qualities have almost vanished. The bright spark that used to be in his eyes has disappeared without a trace.

Before we can give something to someone, we must have enough of it ourselves first. Right now, this Jane doesn’t have enough happiness to share with me. And how can I blame him, when I am the one who made it vanish? Trust is the foundation of every relationship, not just romantic ones. But between us, trust is at zero.

Every time we look into each other’s eyes, we feel it in our chests. We are in a toxic relationship that eats away at and destroys each other’s identity more every day. Everything I tell him can be seen as either “fact” or “gaslighting,” depending on the angle. Our relationship has a clear power dynamic where I am the one dominating him from a superior status, whether he is ready for it or even aware of it.

It is incredibly difficult for 100% comfort to exist in this relationship. To be honest, it isn’t a healthy relationship at all. It seems he was right: I have a high IQ, but my “other Q” (EQ) is useless. But when have I ever cared about anyone’s feelings? When have I ever cared that the other person is a human being with flesh, blood, and a heart just like mine?

I am me. And he is him. The fact is, we are too different. We look at the world through different lenses and live different lives. I know I can’t stop. The fire of ambition in me never dies; it only grows larger. One day, I have to go further than this. If I am grey today, I must be a darker shade of grey tomorrow, until one day I might turn pitch black.

And this Jane would never be able to handle that.

“A dream without ambition is like a car without gas. You’re not going anywhere.” Sean Hampton And for Jane, not being emotional is impossible. If my mother were to put it in simple Thai, she would say our “Sila”( spiritual levels) are not equal. Well, it’s probably time for Jane Patrick to show some humanity for once. I lean down and press a very light kiss onto those lips.

His pale eyelids flutter as I gently shake his shoulder to wake him. He still looks exhausted, looking at me with questioning eyes. Before he can say anything, I take one of his hands, kiss it gently, and press it against my cheek. I stare into his eyes, my own gaze likely shining as bright as a fluorescent light.

“Jane, you asked for me to disappear from your life, right?” “… “” Are you sure?” There is no verbal answer from him, only a trembling gaze. I use my right hand to snap open the locket pendant I am wearing. I prick his index finger with it so quickly he gasps in surprise. Before he can react, I take that fingertip and smear his blood into the shape of an inverted cross on my right cheek.

“You have that right now.” He didn’t say “You have that right now” as if it were immediate, because he still had to stay until the end of the semester. He had to finish all his finals to graduate his fourth year, including the Social Dance 2 exam with me. We still had to see each other for a while. I didn’t move back home because we didn’t want rumors to spread that we had broken up again; it would just be annoying to everyone. Plus, I didn’t want to answer anyone’s questions or share my miseries with anyone. My friends didn’t notice my quietness. Perhaps because everyone was in a somber mood after Putt’s death just a few days ago. The four of us still couldn’t smile or laugh fully. We were, in fact, still in mourning. I turned the crisis into an opportunity by burying myself in my studies, reading like a madman so l wouldn’t overthink things about P’Jane or grieve over Putt. It seemed Gap, Sherry, and Namkhing had adopted the same policy without needing to say a word. Because of our collective desperation, we sailed through the finals. Every time we checked our answers after an exam, they matched. It looked like my GPA this semester was going to skyrocket like a manipulated stock graph. Now, I’ve finished my Intro to Accounting exam. For Gap, Sherry, and Namkhing, the semester is over. But I still have Social Dance 2at 5: 00 PM today. It’s my very last subject. Then, I’ll finally be on break. ” Jane Palakorn, 4th year, and Jenalee Tanapatpibul, 2nd year. You may enter for the Social Dance 2 exam.” The tall man and I walked into the mirrored room in total silence-though it wasn’t much quieter than when we stood next to each other waiting outside. We didn’t say a single word. We didn’t even try to talk or breathe loudly. Ever since I asked him to leave, we hadn’t practiced together once.

“Big Jane, Little Jane.” Professor Raphee nodded to both of us, checking our names and giving us a look of encouragement. It reminded me that it was Professor who started calling us that until it stuck in everyone’s ears.

“Begin.” We snapped our hands into position and raised our right elbows simultaneously, moving with such power and grace that Professor Raphee jumped slightly, watching intently over his glasses. Hard work always pays off. Even though we hadn’t practiced since that day, our previous training had been intense enough that we moved as one. We strode elegantly to the Latin rhythm like a lion and a swan. Our movements were full of emotion. Even the figure-work that used to be a problem was effortless. Our chests were out, shoulders back, as we spun around the room. I slid down into a split on the floor and pulled myself up against P’Jane while we locked eyes. The push and pull between us was nothing short of flawless. I was panting when I finally stood firm after the dance. P’Jane was the same; beads of sweat covered our faces and bodies. As soon as the exam ended, I knew I had secured an ‘A’ for at least one subject. My academic year had ended, just like P’Jane’s. Now, there were just the two of us sitting in silence in this bedroom. It wasn’t completely silent, though; music was drifting from his laptop. I sat hugging my knees in the desk chair while P’Jane sat on the edge of the bed, smoking. He tilted his head back and blew smoke into the room. P’Jane’s smoking always signaled his state of mind-whether he was comfortable, happy, pressured, just wanting to smoke, stressed, or even grieving. It wasn’t just a trademark; it was a tool for his emotions. I stood up when I couldn’t bear the suffocating atmosphere anymore, intending to get some air on the balcony. But I was stopped midway when his free hand reached out and caught my arm. Strangely, I stopped immediately. We locked eyes in the silence before P’Jane slowly pulled me toward him. He seemed hesitant, as if his heart wasn’t quite in it, yet within that hesitation was a firm desire. He gently pulled me down to sit beside him on the bed. P’Jane put out his cigarette using that terrifying method that always made me cringe. He dropped the butt beside the bed without a care. The sweet yet melancholic music continued to play from the laptop as his large hand gently tucked a strand of my hair behind my ear. I closed my eyes as he pressed his lips against mine, softly at first. I let myself go into a kiss that grew increasingly intense. His kiss was both sweet and bitter. I didn’t know if it was the bitterness of the cigarette or the bitterness of our sorrow. I’d like to say we gave it a try / I’d like to blame it all on life / Maybe we just weren’t right… but that’s a lie, that’s a lie. Almost Is Never Enough by Ariana Grande ft. Nathan Sykes “Jane,” He called my name.

It was still the same beautiful, faint, sweet “Jane” with that hint of peading he always used. I knew there would never be a day or night where I would forget the sound of his voice calling my name. The buttons of my student shirt were undone one by one… until my upper body was bare. The tall man leaned down and kissed my shoulder gently, making my heart and body tremble.

His lips were hot like scorched steel; when they touched my skin, it felt like being branded by fire. He lingered, kissing both my shoulders, as if trying to store the scent of my body in his memory for as long as possible. And we can deny it as much as we want/ But in time our feelings will show /’ Cause sooner or later/ We’ll wonder why we gave up/ The truth is everyone knows…

I was laid back onto the wide bed. My clothes were removed. P’Jane hovered over me, trapping me beneath him. His sharp eyes stared down as if surveying every part of me, deep into my very soul.

“Jane, you’re so beautiful.” Crazy.

“Truly magnificent, baby.” He leaned down for another deep kiss before stripping off his own clothes. His large hands roved over my skin, kneading and arousal flared. Finally, he pushed into me to claim his own happiness. I moaned, hugging his lean, tall body tightly as he slowly pushed inside. No matter how many times it happened… I could never get used to it. Almost, almost is never enough / So close to being in love / If I would have known that you wanted me/ The way I wanted you/ Then maybe we wouldn’t be two worlds apart / But right here in each other’s arms…

“Are you happy?”

“So happy… Jane is the happiest.” I answered breathlessly as he moved in and out. My legs draped over his shoulders trembled. The rhythm was hot, aggressive, and heavy-always Jane Patrick. He never disappointed me. I felt deep, complex emotions flooding my body-feelings too difficult to put into words. And P’Jane surely felt the same. Finally, I let out a long cry as I reached the edge. At the same time, he pulled out and released himself on my stomach. He grabbed a tissue from the nightstand to wipe the thick fluid. We were both panting heavily when it was over. Before long, the game of love began again, and I was more than willing. We were entangled like vines that couldn’t be separated, pressed so close there was no space between us. No one knew how much time passed, but neither of us wanted to stop. Neither of us wanted to let go. It was as if we were each other’s addiction, and no amount was ever enough. He looked at my face-cheeks flushed bright pink-as he pinned my hands down, moving in a agonizingly slow rhythm. His eyes shone with a brilliant light as he whispered the words he said over and over whenever we made love, words I never knew were true or not.

“I love you, Jane.”

“I love you too, P’.” And we almost, we almost knew what love was / But almost is never enough… I felt a heaviness in my head like never before. I tried to blink my eyes open, but it was incredibly difficult. Why was I so sleepy? I had never been this drowsy before. I’m not the type to just sleep all day, but now it felt like no amount of sleep would be enough. Finally, consciousness won over my body. I asked into the pitch darkness: “P’Jane, what time is it?” There was no answer. I propped myself up, clutching my head with one hand. It wasn’t dizziness or pain, but a dazed feeling-like waking up after a doctor has administered a sedative for a procedure. A sedative… ? I startled at the thought and quickly looked at the empty water glass on the nightstand. After we had made love-I don’t even know how many times-P’Jane had gotten up to get me water because he knew I’d be thirsty. I was so exhausted I drank the whole glass. It had tasted oddly bitter, but l assumed it was just the taste of cigarettes from his mouth on my tongue. My heart sank. I quickly looked in the small trash can. Just as I thought: there was an Alprazolam wrapper inside. This drug is often called the “date rape drug” because criminals slip it into drinks to make victims fall into a deep sleep. I knew this because my dad is a pharmacist; he’s an expert and always warned us about drugs, especially my sister.

“P’Jane! P’Jane!” I screamed his name, looking around the bedroom. My heart shattered further when I realized all of his belongings were gone. Nothing was in its place-except my things. No. This is a dream. It has to be a dream. I looked at the clock. I was even more shocked to see it was 4: 30AM.

“P’Jane! P’Jane, are you here? Where are you? P’Jane!” I threw on some clothes and ran around like a madman searching for him. There was nothing of his in any room. He and his belongings had vanished as if he had turned invisible. P’Jane hadn’t even left his toothbrush. Not even a single cigarette butt remained by the bed. It was as if our lovemaking had just been a dream. I frantically dialed his number. But no matter how many times I called, the response was the same: “We’re sorry, the number you have dialed cannot be reached… ”

“P’Jane… P’Jane, where did you go? P’Jane! Come out!” I screamed even though I knew in my heart he was gone… gone just as I had asked.

“P’Jane, don’t go yet. Why… why did you go without saying goodbye? Come back, P’Jane! Come back!”

Why did I feel like screaming and crying like a lunatic? I was the one who asked him to leave. When did I become so contradictory? Why did I feel so empty and sad? I knew he had to go, but I didn’t think he would leave without a word. Cruel. He is the cruelest.

“P’Jane!” I shouted his name again before rushing to the elevator to check the parking garage, a small hope still flickering. But it was empty. Not a single car belonging to P’Jane remained. All ten cars had vanished. I slumped down in the parking lot, breathless and drained. The truth hit my consciousness like a blunt object. The sedative hadn’t made me this numb…. He’s gone. He’s really gone. The “Big Jane” has disappeared without a trace. From now on… there is no “Little Jane” and “Big Jane.” Jane Patrick has left forever, leaving behind only a legend to be remembered by all who knew the story. The story of the man who gave anyone anything they asked for.