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Regardless of what people in Tian’s life say, Tian does not want to be a ‘trouble magnet’. At least, not anymore.
It is not as though Tian actively looks for trouble; it is just that trouble finds him, inconveniently, almost always, with no concern for whether he is actively disregarding his life, or whether he is actually trying his hardest to break out of the harmful way that he's lived, before.
It's not his fault that Trouble — this time in the form of Khun Sakda and his goons — adamantly whiffs him out. This evening, especially, is not entirely Tian's fault and this time, particularly, it is not That Huge a Deal.
The tense silence that stretches over him, Tul, and the chief — who had miraculously appeared here, out of nowhere — says otherwise.
As far as Tian can tell in the darkness that surrounds them all, the chief is livid. Silently, of course. His jaw clenched and his nose flaring, all that lasting for only one stretched moment across time, before it snaps, the chief's anger melting into blatant concern.
“You were attacked,” he says again, this time more furious than before. “Because of Khun Sakda’s men.”
“We’ve covered this already, Chief,” Tian repeats. He is exhausted. He still feels breathless, his arm throbs, and he just wants to lie down and forget that he was ever attacked by those goons only for pointing out what was obviously wrong.
Phupha, who had always been at an arm’s distance, comes closer. He suddenly seems a breath away. From the corner of his eye, Tul, who was silent ever since the Chief found them panting underneath the motel, perks up. Tian actively avoids looking at him. “Tian…”
“Look,” Tian says, stretching his hands — which, in retrospect is a bad decision. His arm throbs at the sudden movement, but he ignores it, for the sake of not alerting anyone. “I am perfectly fine—”
“Tian!”
Phupha’s eyes zero onto the reason for the pulsating, burning sensation that erupts from the top of his arm all the way to his fingers. Oh. This was why it was hurting. Distantly, he remembers getting scraped on his arm, but the pressing need to run away from them, successfully losing them in the crowd, and subsequently meeting the chief underneath their motel had made him forget that one maddening moment in the thousands that led him here.
Phupha’s fingers immediately circle his elbow, and perhaps it should feel restricting, but it only feels comforting, grounding.
His voice, much less. “You are bleeding!” he exclaims — although it doesn’t come across as an exclamation, only an astute observation. But, Tian knows him a little too well to know that this is the most discomposed he has seen Phupha.
Tian tries pulling his hand away from him, only for him to grip it tighter. “Let me look,” he says.
“I will have to remove my clothes off then,” Tian says, trying to diffuse the heavy tension in the room. “Is that what you want, chief?”
Tul coughs a little. Tian does not feel bad for him.
Phupha remains undeterred.
“Take your clothes off for me.”
“At least take me out on a date first!”
“You are bleeding. You were stabbed—”
“Chief!” Tian says and pulls his arm away — another bad decision. His entire arm starts hurting tenfold. “I wasn’t stabbed!”
“You are bleeding!”
“I am not, not anymore, I don’t think!” Tian denies. The bleeding does seem to have stopped, but the top of his sleeve has a patch of blood that is… not something he can fathom looking at. “It is only a scrape, I am sure! I don’t even remember how I got it!”
Phupha lets out a highly exasperated breath. “Let me help you, Tian. Why are you so reluctant?”
Tian is not reluctant, per se, he just -- does not want to remove his t-shirt. Despite knowing that the chief has accidentally seen the scar, it is different here, in the broad light of the motel room. The scar on his chest aches -- a phantom reminder as to why.
Phupha must see something on Tian’s face for he nods in understanding.
He looks at Tul and gestures him to come closer.
Tul looks startled but edges closer anyway. He inclines his head towards Tian, a silent question, are you okay?
Tian nods. He doesn’t need people worrying over him for something that isn’t even a huge deal!
“Clean his wound with warm water and a clean cloth,” Phupha says in a voice that can’t be described as anything but stern. “Put pressure on the wound if it is still bleeding. I am going to get some first aid.”
Phupha leaves without another glance.
In the bathroom, with his injured arm dangling off of his clothes, Tul cleans his wound (which hasn't been bleeding for a while) diligently. It stings and it burns, but it is nothing as sharp as the look Tul keeps giving him, coupled with a question as clear as the moon in the cloudless night sky.
“What?” Tian asks, regardless.
Tul raises his eyebrows. “That is the person you like, right?”
“Tul!” Tian hisses, looking at the door on the off-chance that Phupha is back without a fuss.
Tul does not look perturbed. “What?” he asks. “Am I wrong?”
Tian does not have to answer in an affirmative for Tul to know. “You have it bad, my dude,” Tul says, turning the tap off. “Like really bad. I did not think it was this bad for some reason.”
Tian scoffs in response, though he can’t stop the small smile from curving his lips. “What does it matter? You saw how strict he was, wasn’t he?”
“Look at you!” Tul amusedly exclaims. "You're smiling when you say it. You're glowing bright pink!"
"I am not, shut up," Tian says, trying his hardest to stop smiling. He does not succeed.
"Besides, he didn't seem strict at all!"
"How did he seem then?"
"Like he cares. A lot," Tul says, matter-of-factly.
"It's his duty to care for me," Tian says, despite that making his stomach flutter.
"He came all the way from the village to check on you just because he heard that those jerks talked to you in the morning. That isn't out of duty," Tul points out.
"Well, it isn't out of whatever it is that you think either! So, no!" Tian denies vehemently.
Tul gives him a long, suffering look. He's about to reply when the door jingles open.
The chief stands against the door frame mere seconds later. He doesn't even have to ask; Tul gives him a detailed report about Tian's stab wound.
Phupha nods approvingly, holding the first aid box awkwardly in his hand.
Without prompting, Tul rhetorically asks, "It's too small for the three of us, no?" and slips out of the bathroom.
Tian, from where he sits on the cover of the toilet seat, stands up on instinct, but Phupha's hands firmly push him down.
He inspects the wound, humming disapprovingly. "They're getting too bold," Phupha sighs. "This should not be happening."
Tian gently touches Phupha's elbow. "Will the villagers be safe?"
Phupha opens the first aid box and takes out the antibiotic cream. "They will be," he says with certainty. "I will make sure of it."
Then, softer: "You're lucky that the wound isn't that deep."
"I told you," Tian sighs. "You don't have to do this."
Phupha gives him a Look™. "You won't be able to bandage yourself, Tian."
"I can ask Tul to do it, chief."
"Why won't you let me take care of you?"
"I am just saying that you don't have to," Tian says. "It's not on you."
"It is my duty to take care of you," Phupha says.
"Is that all it is? Duty?" Tian asks.
The way Phupha looks at him now, under the glaring fluorescent lights of the bathroom, is almost inscrutable. His hand freezes where it was bandaging his arm.
Tian probes again. "Do you only take care of me out of duty?"
That seems to break Phupha out of his reverie. "Tian." Phupha's voice is low, calming. "Don't you know it already?"
Tian's heart seems to glow golden, slowly at first, and then all of a sudden in haste, burning bright enough to light his way back to the village. To his home.
There are a lot many things that Tian wants to do at this moment, but he decides on covering Phupha's hand with his, giving him the warmest smile that he can muster.
The smile that Phupha gives him is nothing short of undisguised fondness.