The arcade smelled like dust and electricity.
Too cold from the air conditioning.
Too loud from the machines.
Perfect.
Krit slammed both hands on the basketball machine. "I'm about to destroy this game."
"You lost three times already," Mali said.
"That was practice."
"That was humiliation."
Phuwin leaned against another machine, drink in hand, watching Krit argue with technology like it personally offended him.
It was stupid.
But it felt good.
The kind of good that only existed for a few seconds before your brain remembered everything again.
"Watch this," Krit said.
He threw the ball.
Missed completely.
Mali covered her face immediately. "Oh my god."
"That machine moved."
"It's stationary."
"It cheated."
Phuwin laughed into his drink.
Real laughter.
The dangerous kind that made your chest hurt afterward.
Krit pointed at him immediately. "See? I'm healing people."
"You're embarrassing people."
"Same thing."
The machine buzzer screamed.
FINAL SCORE: 12
Mali stared. "…That's actually awful."
Krit looked offended. "I was distracted emotionally."
"You were distracted losing."
Phuwin laughed again.
And for one second—
everything felt light.
Then his phone buzzed.
Again.
That tiny sound ruined everything instantly.
Krit noticed first.
Of course he did.
"…No."
Phuwin sighed already. "You don't even know who it is."
"I know enough."
Mali looked over carefully. "…Is it him again?"
Phuwin checked.
His stomach dropped slightly.
Not Arthit.
Unknown number.
"…Who even—"
He opened it.
A photo.
Blurry.
Taken at school.
Him and Arthit standing near the staircase during the festival setup.
Underneath it:
"Still obsessed?"
Silence.
The arcade suddenly felt too loud.
Krit grabbed the phone immediately. "What the hell?"
Mali's expression changed instantly. "Who sent that?"
"I don't know."
Another message came in.
"Thought you moved on."
Krit's jaw tightened.
"Oh, I'm actually going to kill someone."
"Krit," Mali warned immediately.
"No, seriously."
Phuwin stared at the screen.
His ears felt hot.
Not sadness.
Not heartbreak.
Humiliation.
That was worse.
"…Why do people care this much?" he whispered.
Nobody answered.
Because nobody knew.
Another message.
"Pathetic honestly."
Krit stood up so fast the chair scraped loudly.
"Okay. No. Give me the phone."
"What are you going to do?" Mali asked.
"I'm going to become violent."
"That's not a plan."
"It's a lifestyle."
Phuwin grabbed the phone back.
"…Don't."
Krit blinked. "Don't what?"
"Don't make this bigger."
"It already IS big."
People nearby were starting to look over.
Whispers.
Again.
Always whispers.
Phuwin suddenly felt exhausted.
Like every sound in the arcade got sharper all at once.
The lights.
The music.
The people laughing.
Too much.
"I'm going outside," he muttered.
Mali stood immediately. "Wait—"
"I just need air."
Then he walked out.
Fast.
Before either of them could stop him.
🌧 OUTSIDE — THE CITY KEEPS MOVING
Bangkok hit him instantly.
Warm air.
Traffic.
Motorbike engines screaming down the street.
The city didn't care if you were falling apart.
That was the scary thing.
Phuwin stood near the curb, breathing hard.
Not crying.
Not yet.
Just angry.
Embarrassed.
Small.
His phone buzzed again.
He almost threw it into traffic.
Instead—
he turned it off completely.
For the first time in days—
silence.
"…Better," he whispered.
"Doesn't look better."
Phuwin froze.
Arthit.
Standing outside the convenience store beside the arcade.
Holding a plastic bag and two canned drinks.
Like some cruel movie scene.
"…Are you stalking me now?" Phuwin asked tiredly.
Arthit frowned slightly. "What?"
"I'm kidding."
"…Oh."
That made Phuwin laugh once under his breath.
Because of course Arthit couldn't tell.
Of course.
Arthit stepped closer slowly. "…Are you okay?"
Phuwin looked at him for a long second.
Neon lights flashing across both of them.
Cars moving behind them.
People passing without noticing anything.
"…No," he answered honestly.
That surprised Arthit.
Good.
"You wanna know something weird?" Phuwin continued.
Arthit stayed quiet.
"I think getting dumped hurt less than everyone watching it happen."
Silence.
Heavy.
Real.
Arthit looked away briefly.
"…People are stupid."
Phuwin laughed softly. "That's your advice?"
"It's true."
A motorbike sped past loudly between sentences.
Neither of them spoke until the sound disappeared.
Then—
"…Did you mean it?" Phuwin asked suddenly.
Arthit blinked. "Mean what?"
"That I felt more than you could give."
The city noise filled the silence again.
Arthit exhaled slowly.
"…Yeah."
Honest.
Still painful.
But honest.
Phuwin nodded once.
Like he already knew.
"…Okay."
No drama.
No crying.
Just acceptance trying to happen in real time.
Behind them—
the arcade doors burst open.
"KNEW IT."
Krit pointed dramatically at both of them.
Mali looked exhausted already. "Please stop yelling."
"You disappeared for TWO MINUTES and somehow found each other again!"
"It's not like that," Phuwin muttered immediately.
Krit stared at him. "…You're literally standing under neon lights having an emotional conversation."
"…Oh."
"…Yeah," Mali said.
Phuwin covered his face. "I hate this city."
Krit grinned. "Too bad. The city loves you."
And somehow—
despite everything—
Phuwin laughed again.
Because maybe being seventeen wasn't about understanding anything.
Maybe it was just:
too much noise
too many feelings
and learning how to stay alive inside all of it.
END OF CHAPTER 14