Daotok woke long before the sun rose, excitement thrumming through his veins like electricity. By the time the city outside his window began to stir, he was already seated in front of his computer, fingers hovering anxiously above the keyboard. His gaze bounced between the official concert ticketing site and a detailed step-by-step guide on how to secure tickets—the good tickets.
He'd been preparing for this day for weeks. Behind him, the soft padding of footsteps echoed in the quiet apartment.
Arthit's voice, still heavy with sleep, broke the silence. "You're really doing this?"
Daotok didn't turn away from the screen. "Yes," he replied, nodding firmly.
Arthit leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, expression amused. "You do realize I could just get you a ticket, right?"
"No," Daotok said quickly. "I don't want to take advantage of your other fans. That wouldn't be fair."
"You're seriously sitting here trying to buy a ticket to my concert?"
"Yes! I've practiced. I know exactly what to do. I'm not missing my chance this time."
He wasn't exaggerating. Daotok had run simulations, timed himself, memorized the entire seat map, and practiced every step up to the payment confirmation screen. Last time, he'd missed out and had to wait for canceled tickets to pop up. It hadn't been the same—not when his only view of Arthit had been as a speck of red and black against a blinding stage.
"Didn't you already come to one of my shows, though?" Arthit asked, clearly puzzled. "You should be a pro at this by now."
"I told you. I didn't get good seats last time. I had to settle for whatever came back on sale. This time, I want to be close."
"But I'm right here," Arthit said, moving closer and gesturing at the space between them.
Daotok smiled but didn't look away. "It's not the same. Watching you perform on stage... it's different. It's everything."
At exactly 9:00 A.M, the countdown hit zero. Daotok pounced, clicking through the site to secure a coveted spot in the standing zone near the stage. But before he could breathe a sigh of relief, the page froze.
"Arthit! It's frozen!" he cried, panic rising in his chest.
Arthit strolled over, coffee in hand, calm as ever. "Try refreshing."
"I am ! It's not moving—ugh!"
"Our internet's the best available," Arthit said, peering over Daotok's shoulder. "It should be working fine."
Then, miraculously, the page loaded.
"Got it!" Daotok gasped, frantically clicking the standing zone, selecting the number of tickets, and racing to the payment screen. "Hurry up, hurry up..."
Arthit chuckled beside him, leaning down to kiss Daotok's cheek. "You're way too into this."
Daotok didn't even flinch. His focus was absolute.
"Done!" he shouted triumphantly, slamming the enter key. He leapt out of his chair and tackled Arthit into a hug, nearly knocking the coffee from his hands.
"Whoa—okay, okay! Congrats, baby. You did it!"
Daotok returned to his seat, eyes scanning the rest of the ticket map. "Zones B1 and C3 are already gone."
"That fast?" Arthit arched a brow, impressed.
They refreshed again, watching in awe as over 40,000 tickets vanished within minutes. Miami—the first stop of Arthit's world tour—was sold out. From there, they'd move on to Orlando, New York, D.C., Boston, and across Europe before finally ending in Asia. The final show would be held in Thailand, their home.
Daotok planned to attend both the first and final shows as a true fan, standing in the crowd like everyone else. For the rest of the tour, he'd stay backstage, assisting the staff and keeping a low profile. It was expensive—and emotionally overwhelming—to attend them all as a fan. But these two? These mattered.
That afternoon, while Arthit left for rehearsals, Daotok cleared his remaining work, preparing for the travel ahead. When the first day of the world tour finally arrived, they flew to Miami together. At the venue, Daotok helped the staff carry equipment, despite Arthit's insistence that he didn't need to. He wasn't sure where else he belonged just yet—so he worked.
From backstage, he watched Arthit rehearse, memorizing the stage layout and light cues. Whether during rehearsals or soundchecks, Daotok was always in awe. Arthit performed with relentless passion and perfection. His dream, his everything, was alive on that stage. Three albums. Over twenty songs. A two-hour show.
The venue was massive, built to hold tens of thousands of people. The stage extended in an X-shape, giving Arthit and his team full access to every corner of the crowd. After a seamless rehearsal, even Arthit's uncle, overseeing production, seemed satisfied.
"What do you think?" he asked Daotok, standing beside him.
"It's incredible," Daotok whispered, eyes still glued to the stage.
"It's going to be a perfect show," the man said with certainty.
Later, Daotok found Arthit resting backstage. He smiled and gently nudged his shoulder.
"You were amazing."
Arthit shrugged. "Of course I was."
"Where will you be during the show?" he asked, a note of concern in his voice.
"In the standing zone. It'll be packed, but I'll be fine."
"What if someone messes with you?" Arthit frowned.
"They won't."
"If they do, I'll throw my mic at them."
"At them?"
"No—at you, " he said with a smirk.
Daotok laughed and kissed him softly before heading out to join the crowd. Outside, the atmosphere buzzed with excitement. Fans waved banners, wore matching shirts, and painted their faces. Some recognized him—whispers followed—but he pretended not to hear. When it was time to enter, he handed over his ticket like any other fan. The staff paused, surprised, but said nothing as the crowd pressed behind him.
Inside, the venue felt even more enormous. Daotok squeezed as close to the front as possible but still found himself a few meters from the stage. The air grew warm and humid with bodies pressed together, but he came prepared—mini fan in hand. The venue was nearly full. All sections—standing and seated—were crammed with people. Seeing it firsthand made his heart swell.
This... this is love, Daotok thought. They're here for him. Just like me. The crowd's energy exploded as the lights dimmed. The X-stage lit up, and the music kicked in, bass trembling through the floor. Screams echoed. Cheers shook the rafters. Arthit appeared—dressed in red and black, his voice booming through the speakers.
Beside Daotok, a teenage girl burst into tears. "Oh my god! That's really him! Finally!"
He smiled, her joy infectious.
Arthit commanded the stage with ease. Each song brought thunderous applause. He addressed the crowd between sets, thanking them with sincerity.
"Miami! Thank you for being here. On a Saturday night, you chose us. I'll give you everything I've got!"
He danced, sang, joked, and even played the guitar, sweat glistening under the spotlights. He was raw, powerful, and utterly magnetic. When he asked the crowd to jump, Daotok almost did—until someone stepped on his foot. She turned to apologize, and he simply smiled.
The stage came alive in a dazzling spectacle of effects—fireworks burst in rhythmic sync with the music, and a motorized platform lifted Arthit onto a towering metal structure above the crowd. He stood there like a god of the stage, commanding attention with every note. As sweat began to trickle down his temple, he shrugged off his jacket in one swift move, revealing a black tank top clinging to his sculpted frame. The audience erupted, their cheers swelling like waves crashing onto shore.
Acrobats swung through the air on silks and ropes, flipping effortlessly above the heads of dancers whose synchronicity and energy brought electricity to every beat. The entire stage was alive, but it was Arthit who burned brightest. Mid-performance, he grabbed a guitar and launched into a solo, body swaying to the rhythm, hair plastered to his forehead from the heat and sweat. His fingers danced across the strings, and his voice never faltered.
In the crowd, Daotok's eyes were fixed on the giant screen, needing a clearer view of the man who completely captivated him. Arthit's charisma radiated through every move, and Daotok couldn't tear his gaze away. As the concert neared its end, Arthit stepped forward to the edge of the stage and asked the crowd to make space.
"I'm coming down to see you all!" he called. Screams erupted again, this time tinged with disbelief and anticipation. Security guards rushed to form a protective path. Once everything was ready, Arthit descended from the stage, and fans surged forward in a wave of excitement.
Daotok stretched onto his tiptoes, craning his neck as he tried to get a glimpse. On the large screen, Arthit's warm smile beamed as he shook hands with fans, stopping for pictures, sharing brief words with many, and radiating joy. Some people cried. Others beamed with awe. Phones captured the moment while hearts were caught in it.
By the time the two-hour-long show finally came to a close, the disappointment of it ending was soothed by a deep, unforgettable satisfaction. From Daotok's perspective as a fan, the ticket was worth every penny—no, it felt like a bargain.
He waited patiently with the crowd as they slowly filtered out of the venue, thousands moving together like a living sea. Once he made it outside, Daotok headed backstage. There, in the corner of a bustling staff area, Arthit sat slumped in a chair with a cold towel draped across his face. His tank top clung to him, soaked through with sweat, and his cheeks were flushed from sheer exertion.
"Arthit, I'm here," Daotok said softly as he approached.
The man didn't lift the towel, but a faint grin tugged at his lips. "You're back? How was it?"
"It was amazing. The girl next to me cried the entire time."
"Good," he murmured, smiling more fully now despite his exhaustion.
"You were incredible, Arthit. Not a single dull moment."
"Yeah," he said, voice husky with fatigue but glowing with joy. "I gave it my all. Tired as hell, but it was so damn fun. Just thinking about doing this all over the world gets me excited."
While Arthit rested, Daotok sat beside him and pulled out his phone, fingers quickly finding the latest updates online. The hashtag #TwisterTourInMiami was trending at number one. Twister —both the name of Arthit's world tour and his latest album—had taken the internet by storm. Thousands of tweets filled the page.
"He's amazing! This was my first time seeing him live, and he gave it his all. Totally worth every penny!"
"His voice is incredible. Definitely no lip-syncing. You could tell he prepared so well."
"Absolutely impressed! From the performers to Dylan and the production team—what a show. The stadium was PACKED!"
"I loved the rap section! It wasn't even in the original song. I didn't know he could rap like that. Is there anything he can't do?"
"They should've added a second Miami show. I want to see him again. I think I'm in love with him!"
"I saw his husband, Michael, in the queue outside. They're such a cute couple. He must've been so proud watching Dylan."
"I saw Michael too! I accidentally stepped on his foot—T-T—but he didn't say anything. I kept sneaking glances at him. The way he looked at Dylan...It made me blush!"
Daotok chuckled softly at that last one. Ah, so she was the one who stepped on me...
"I've followed him since his first song on YouTube. Now he's on a world tour. I couldn't be prouder."
"I got to shake his hand! He stayed with the crowd so long, smiling and stopping for photos. So down-to-earth. If he comes to Miami again, I'll definitely go. I! LOVE! YOU! DYLAN!!"
Putting the phone away, Daotok's chest swelled with pride. He wasn't sure how many times he had told Arthit he was proud of him, but every time he said it, he meant it even more. Spotting the staff moving around, Daotok rose to help without needing to be asked.
Over the next six months, the Twister Tour took them across the globe— through cities in the U.S., Europe, and Asia. Thirty cities in total. And finally, the grand finale: Thailand. As soon as their plane touched down, they went straight to the concert venue. Backstage preparations were already underway. Daotok slipped away to wait for their friends.
The moment he spotted them, he broke into a wide grin and pulled them into tight hugs.
"It feels like it's been forever. How have you been?" North asked, grinning, with Typhoon, Tonfah, Johan, and Easter following close behind.
"A bit tired from the tour," Daotok admitted. "I'm basically like an extra staff member at this point."
"I thought you'd be playing guitar or something," Typhoon teased.
"No way. There are professionals doing that," Daotok replied with a chuckle, leading them backstage where Arthit was getting ready. When Arthit saw them, a bright smile lit up his exhausted face.
"It's been forever!" he exclaimed, voice filled with warmth. "How long has it been? Two years?"
"Yeah, and we're about to graduate," Tonfah's boyfriend added. "I think I've already said this, but congrats, man."
"Thanks! So, you and Hill are graduating, huh? Time flies. Let me know when the ceremony is—I'll be there," Arthit promised.
After chatting for a while, they moved to the front of the venue to relax.
The sound of the growing crowd buzzed in the air.
"I saw your travel photos," Easter remarked. "That fishing trip in South Africa? Those fish looked terrifying."
"They weren't so bad," Daotok said. "Actually kind of fun. You should try it sometime."
"North said there were crocodiles," Easter added skeptically.
"He's right," North jumped in. "I watched a documentary—there were crocodiles in that river!"
Daotok nodded. "Yeah, we saw one. It was massive. Surfaced right beside the boat. The water rippled like something out of a movie."
"That's too close for me. If it were me, I'd be crocodile food by now," North laughed, eyes scanning the bustling crowd. "I've seen videos of Arthit's concerts, but seeing this many people in person is something else."
"I made a light sign!" Easter grinned, pulling out a glowing DYLAN sign.
Daotok smiled. "It looks amazing. Thank you."
"Why thank me?" Easter blinked.
"For making it. And for being here," Daotok said sincerely. "He's really grateful to everyone who comes."
"Oh, like he's thanking his fan club?" North teased.
They kept chatting until it was time to head in. North grabbed his boyfriend's hand and sprinted ahead.
"Front row or bust! Why am I putting this much effort into seeing Arthit when I already see him all the time?" North huffed.
"Because he's your favorite artist," Typhoon teased with a smirk.
"True. Even if he's a jerk, he's super talented. I can sing every one of his songs. Now hurry up! Why is this line moving so slow?"
They eventually made it through and, to their surprise, reached the front row.
"This is insane," Easter said, eyes scanning the enormous venue. "How many people?"
"Thirty thousand. Tickets sold out," Daotok answered.
"Thirty thousand? Wow."
As fans packed in tighter, the air grew hotter. North shifted uncomfortably. "Who's pushing me? It's like a sauna." His boyfriend shielded him with his body. "Thanks. Much better."
The lights dimmed.
Then—music.
Screams.
"Woohoo! Hell and Back! They're opening with this?!" North shouted.
Arthit rose from beneath the stage on a platform, belting out the first line.
The stadium trembled with excitement. The crowd sang every word in perfect unison.
After two songs, Arthit paused. "Thailand!" he shouted.
The stadium roared.
"Let me speak in Thai for a moment," he said. "Many of you know I used to live here before moving to New York for music. So many memories tie me to this place. Coming back feels like coming home. I'm so grateful to everyone who chose to spend this night with us. For this final show of my first world tour, I'll give you everything I've got!"
As the final chords of the song faded into a roaring sea of applause, the crowd erupted once more, ignited by the pulsing drumbeats of the encore. Arthit stood center stage, his chest heaving, sweat glistening on his skin beneath the bright lights. He had poured every ounce of energy into the performance, refusing to hold anything back—even though he'd done this countless times before. This wasn't just another show. It was the end of his first world tour.
In the crowd, Daotok watched from the side with a pounding heart. No matter how many times he saw Arthit perform, it never failed to leave him breathless. The way Arthit commanded the stage, how he moved with precision and passion, how the crowd responded like he was a god in human form—it made Daotok's chest swell with something more than admiration. Pride. Awe. Something deeper he couldn't quite name.
He glanced over at North, who was practically collapsing into Tonfah's arms. North's face was flushed, his voice hoarse from screaming along to every lyric and cheering until he couldn't anymore.
"That was insane," North rasped, eyes wide despite the fatigue sinking into his limbs. "I'm exhausted... and starving."
Daotok smiled faintly as they made their way backstage, moving with the trickle of fans and crew. The energy in the air was electric but tinged with a kind of gentle finality. It felt like the end of something meaningful. Behind the scenes, they found Arthit sprawled on a worn-out couch, a cold towel draped over his face. His chest was still rising and falling as he caught his breath. When he heard the group approaching, he peeled the towel away and turned toward them, his eyes glinting despite the exhaustion.
"What's up?" he asked, voice rough but light.
"You were amazing," Easter said, grinning as he reached for a water bottle on a nearby table. "Absolutely incredible out there."
Arthit smirked, tossing the towel aside. "Of course I was. But why do you look more tired than me, North?"
"My throat's on fire," North groaned, leaning heavily against Tonfah. "I screamed, I danced... like you paid me to be your hype man. Man, you're incredible. I never thought the same guy I used to call a complete idiot would turn into... this. I seriously respect you now."
"You've been my fan since the beginning, haven't you?" Arthit laughed, clapping North on the shoulder. "I love that for you."
"We're heading back tomorrow," Tonfah added.
"Perfect," Arthit said with a grin that lit up his whole face. "Let's celebrate tonight. The tour's over. Drinks and dinner are on me."
"Wow," Tonfah said with mock surprise. "Arthit—the guy who used to freeload off everyone—is actually treating us?"
Easter snorted. "It's not about the free meal. It's the fact that he's actually treating that's a miracle."
Arthit rolled his eyes. "You guys act like I've never paid for anything."
"You haven't," Tonfah said flatly. "Back in the day, you even stole my loose change. How broke were you?"
"That's a lie!" Arthit objected.
"Is it, though?" Johan chimed in with a smirk. "You even took my pens. I bought a whole pack and they all mysteriously vanished."
"I borrowed those," Arthit said defensively. "God, don't be dramatic. Anyway, let's not dwell on ancient history. Tonight's on me. Be grateful!"
He stood up and stretched, heading off to change into something less sweat soaked. The group watched him go, laughter still echoing in the room. Daotok stayed quiet, arms loosely crossed, a fond look in his eyes as he watched Arthit disappear behind the curtain.
"Why are you looking at him like that?" Johan asked, catching the soft expression.
"Nothing," Daotok said, though his voice was a little thick. "I just... I feel proud, I guess. Like watching someone grow up right before your eyes. The guy who once couldn't even survive a math exam without begging for help is now standing on stage in front of thousands. And tonight, he's treating us to dinner. It's surreal."
"You sound like a proud mom," Tonfah teased.
"I thought you were going to say you're proud he became a global star,"
Johan added, laughing. "But no— he can finally pay for dinner. That's what makes you proud."
"Hey, feeding us is a big deal," Daotok replied with a chuckle. "Especially coming from him."
"Don't act like you weren't his longest-suffering victim," Tonfah told Johan.
"You must feel something ."
Johan hesitated, then smiled. "Okay, yeah. I do. From the guy who used to pocket my change to the one buying me dinner tonight... it's kind of something."
For a while, the conversation revolved around Arthit—his past antics, their shared memories, the way he used to be versus who he had become. Daotok laughed quietly, heart swelling. Despite all the teasing, there was nothing but love in the room. No resentment, just the kind of bond that only years of shared struggles could build.
Arthit returned just as a fresh wave of laughter hit the group.
"What are you laughing at now?" he asked suspiciously, his hair still damp from the quick rinse.
"Nothing," Johan said, shaking his head. "Let's go. I'm starving for that meal you're supposedly treating us to."
With that, the eight of them left the venue together, stepping out into the cool night, ready to celebrate the end of a chapter—and the beginning of something even bigger.
[THE END]