Love Chase [Thai BL]

Wittawin waited patiently for Pirayu to arrive and inspect the partially completed work, but noon came and went without any sign of his friend. The assistant headmaster of Pum Pui Nursery School wandered into the computer lab periodically to check on his progress, alternating between overseeing the installation and rushing out to maintain order throughout the school.

"I've finished part of it," Wittawin said, turning to the plump, kindly assistant headmaster who had just entered and offered him a glass of cold water. "But that's enough for today. I have other work this afternoon. I'll come back tomorrow afternoon to finish this room."

"The headmaster has disappeared somewhere. I've called him several times but his phone is off. He's never gone missing without telling anyone like this before. I'm terribly worried."

"He's probably tied up with something," Wittawin replied with a faint smile, though he felt equally concerned about Pirayu. Normally his friend arrived at school early, before the students, before everyone, especially today when he knew the computer system installation would begin. But another part of him reasoned that it was Wednesday—Pirayu might have gone to handle some business and forgotten his phone. If it were Monday morning and he failed to show up for work without telling anyone, that would be strange.

Wittawin excused himself to leave, but as he stepped through the doorway, he stopped short. In the distance, he spotted a luxury bronze sports car parked at the curb in front of the school gate, with Pirayu emerging from the passenger side. He wore a white dress shirt with no tie, carrying a suit jacket that matched his trousers.

Wittawin wated.

"Did you sleep so soundly you overslept and forgot about all the little piglets at the nursery school, Pirayu?" Wittawin called out as his friend approached the single-story building's veranda.

"How long have you been here?" Pirayu asked, his head bowed—a stark contrast to his usual broad smile and animated expression.

"Not too long ago," Wittawin said, walking closer with the intention of cornering his friend before he could escape. "Did you spend the night with the driver of that fancy car? You're getting pretty wild, aren't you? Leaving the children to salute the flag without Teacher Pirayu's radiant smile leading them singing the national anthem."

"No," Pirayu looked up with a smile.

"I think your school should change its name."

"To what?"

"Panda Nursery," Wittawin grinned, then looked down at his friend who pretended to laugh.

"I had some business to take care of. I ran into a friend who gave me a ride," Pirayu explained, then turned to walk toward his quarters.

"What's this friend's name? Do I know him?"

"You wouldn't know him. We met at the gym. We're not that close. He was passing through this area and saw me at the intersection, so he offered me a ride." Pirayu lied, knowing he was doing it poorly and that Wittawin would never believe him.

How could he possibly explain what he'd done last night.

Last night he had done something that could only be called 'liberating' his true self—something he never thought he would do.

Wittawin pretended to lose interest and reported on the computer system installation work, telling his friend he would return tomorrow afternoon to continue. Pirayu nodded in acknowledgment and walked into his office.

"Are you wearing suits to work now?" Wittawin tried to catch his friend in another inconsistency, but quickly added, "Oh right, I forgot. Your office air conditioning is freezing."

"Mm-hmm," Pirayu responded curtly.

"I'm leaving now. See you tomorrow," Wittawin bid farewell, followed by a final jab. "Headmaster, please iron your clothes before coming to work. Your shirt is wrinkled like this—it's not a good example for the kids."

Pirayu pouted and made a displeased sound before giving Wittawin a shy smile, waving the young engineer out of the room. Then he collapsed into his large beige leather chair, his mind drifting aimlessly.

The image of the handsome man's toned body from last night stood out clearly in his thoughts. That subtle yet passionate love scene made him never want to forget. The taste of kisses that nearly melted him still warmed his lips.

Was he falling in love...love at first sight?

Falling for a man who seemed to be a playboy who had invited him to spend the night after talking for less than an hour, and he had agreed.

The first time in his life he'd done anything like this.

But Teeradon's words...

"I don't like commitments..."

Teeradon walked into his office after noon. His capable secretary wasn't at his desk. When he opened the door to his office, he caught the faint scent of aromatherapy oil and heard soft instrumental music playing.

If only there were someone cute here, wearing nothing but underwear, giving him a massage—that would feel like heaven.

Fair skin, smooth and soft, a young face, dark eyebrows, a prominent nose, red lips, like...

This is insane. Why is that 'young monkey's' face still haunting my thoughts?

Teeradon shook his head vigorously, trying to banish the image of that computer technician from his mind.

But wait, I've summoned him several times already. Why hasn't he come yet? Isn't he afraid of my threat to cancel the computer system contract?

Teeradon picked up his phone and dialed his 'servant's' number, asking the question he needed answered immediately.

"I should be asking you that. You don't come to work, don't call to let me know, and when I call you, you don't answer. It's noon and I need to eat too, but today I'm going to be late because I'm having lunch with a client," the young secretary replied immediately when his boss asked where he had been.

"You have to meet with clients too?"

"Khun Don, sir. You probably didn't know that I have to handle clients both in and out of the office," Toey's voice was cool. "When the boss misses appointments."

"So when will this person come to see me?" Teeradon changed the subject. When his secretary spoke to him with that cold tone, he always changed the subject immediately.

Is he a secretary or a guardian? Being so bold with his boss.

"Which person?" Toey asked, though Teeradon knew the other party was pretending not to know.

Of course Toey knows. Smart as he is, he's good at connecting the dots like no one else.

"Who else could it be?" the boss could be just as evasive.

"As far as I know, Khun Don has two cases pending: the nameless pretty-ass racer and the red-lipped computer technician."

"How do you know he has a pretty ass?" Teeradon's voice was stern, beginning to wonder if his secretary's brain was too efficient.

"Well, if it wasn't pretty, you wouldn't have raced after him in your car. When a rider bends over while speeding on a big bike, that's about the only part someone like you would be looking at. Unless you were looking at something else—I wouldn't know about that," Toey's voice was innocently transparent.

"Khun Toey," Teeradon exhaled slowly, trying to maintain his patience as it neared its limit.

"He's already here. Since this morning. I've been trying to reach you as usual," Toey raised his voice. "But you weren't..."

"Then hurry back to the office and call him for me again."

"Can this be the last time, Khun. Teeradon?" Toey negotiated.

"Quickly now," Teeradon urged and hung up the phone, then turned left and right in irritation, feeling thwarted.

It wasn't Toey who was thwarting him, but thwarted because...

Thwarted because...

Because what? Why do I feel so restless?

Sarayoot had been waiting for Wittawin in the office until nearly six in the evening. When he saw the young man with the 'fair face, dark eyebrows, prominent nose, and red lips', as described by Khun Toey, whom he'd known since adolescence walk in, he raised his hand to signal him into the room.

"Win," the uncle called his partner's name, who held the distinction of being his nephew, then sighed softly.

"I went, but he wasn't there," the young engineer said, tossing his backpack on the floor and sitting down on the large white sofa near the door.

"Do you know what I'm going to say?"

"What else but go apologize to that psycho," Wittawin leaned back, propping his feet up on the sofa.

"Take off your shoes first."

"Yes, yes," Wittawin replied lazily, using each foot to kick off his shoes in annoyance before continuing, "Every time I go, I only meet his secretary, and the secretary can't reach his own boss. No work gets done, just creates problems."

"He's scheduled to meet you tomorrow at exactly two in the afternoon," Sarayoot informed him of the appointment time.

"I'm not available. I have to work on my friend's system."

"Finish this matter first. I can barely get any work done—they keep calling like insurance salespeople, you know."

"I didn't do anything wrong. I just dropped my wrench. Bad luck that he walked nearby. It didn't even hit his head. If I'd known it would come to this, I should have aimed for right in the middle of his forehead. Since I have to apologize anyway," Wittawin's voice was muffled as he flipped over and buried his face in the sofa cushions.

"Watch your mouth," Sarayoot stood up and walked over to look at the person pretending to sleep on the sofa. "Don't sleep here. Go home and sleep. Do something normal like regular people do. And about the motorcycle—"

"I'll drive carefully," Wittawin quickly interjected. "I'm waiting for Pamorn. We're going to a friend's birthday party."

"Will you be back late?"

"When the pub closes, I'll come back. Right now I need to rest up," Wittawin shifted to find a comfortable position, then lay down with his arms crossed, ignoring his uncle who stood nearby shaking his head.

"You're 27, almost 28, you know. Stop acting like you just graduated. I think you should buy a car. Stop riding that motorcycle—it's dangerous. And don't argue that you can use the company car. The company car is for business use, or when necessary. Once you buy a car, buy a condo too. You should have some real assets. You're not gypsies who need to move apartments all the time. I'm not letting you sleep at the company anymore," Sarayoot began 'lecturing' his nephew.

"Yes, Dad," Wittawin replied shortly, burying his face deeper into the sofa cushions as if trying to make his head disappear. "And Dad is only 37 years old himself."

"I'm just worried about you, that's why I'm saying this," Sarayoot shook his head and stopped bothering the person who was resting up for socializing with friends. He walked out of the room, grabbed a thin blanket from the black sofa by Wittawin's desk, and returned to the room.

Wittawin had already fallen asleep—he could sleep easier than anyone. Sarayoot carefully covered the tall figure curled up on the sofa with the blanket, then went to adjust the air conditioning to a warmer temperature. He stood quietly watching his nephew for a moment before leaving the office to go home.