Chapter Text
Krit slowly turns the noodle cups facing all front, aligning their logos after dividing them into colors and flavors. The 24/7 convenient store is finally neat and perfectly lined up on every shelf. Late night is the best time to arrange these stocks because there is no customer messing up with the outcome he has been organizing for hours. He takes a step back to enjoy the very last edible arrangement he has accomplished for tonight.
That’s the person Krit is, always looking for joy in the smallest things to keep it going. Though working at a 24/7 convenient store is not that ideal for a college sophomore as the shifts ask for flexibility in schedule and it’s not always safe to spend the night alone at this place, but late shifts earn him double and he still has two more years of college to afford.
He sips his hot silky instant latte and kicks back on his cashier chair, opening his textbook. It’s a quiet weeknight with no drunkies from the nightclubs nearby who usually turn up loud and destructive to his shelf masterpiece. Come to his notice, it’s a bit too quiet than usual. But isn’t it good? He can concentrate on his Art History read and prepare himself for upcoming classes.
The clock ticks 00:00 when the tiny bell on the door rings, telling him a customer has arrived.
“Welcome!” greets the customer Krit with his eyes still glued to the pages.
But the new guest doesn’t answer, or even moving. Their loud panting forces Krit to leave his book to check on the person, only to be shook to his core by the dreadful appearance in front of him. The man standing in front of him is soaked in sweat and blood, from his white shirt, to the tattoo on his neck and his limping leg. Blood is leaking through one side of his beige trousers, turning the pant harsh brown.
“I need help.” mumbles the man under his panting breath and begging eyes.
Krit, still frightened by the mess he’s facing, remains speechless and doesn’t know if he should ask the man to leave and be on his own or give him a hand. And before Krit can get his mind right, the bloody figure jumps behind the cashier counter and drops to the floor right next to him, hands still pressing his wounds, face reeks of foremost discomfort.
Only a few seconds later, two other men slam the door open with full head-masks and gun in their hands. They look around the store before fixing their sights on Krit, who is gulping his fear out loud trying to hold his breath so that he will not collapse out of the sudden heart attack.
“Have you seen a man bleeding coming in here?” asks one of them, gnashing their teeth together.
“…” not answering Krit, as he feels a tight grip on his left leg.
“I repeat, did you see a man bleeding coming in here? Answer me, or I’ll blow your brain off.” threatens the men in front of him, aiming their gun right at Krit’s forehead. As they lifts their weapons towards him, Krit catches a glimpse of a snake tattoo on the back of his hand.
These men are not showing any sign of moving their guns away. As the atmosphere is getting heavier, Krit feels another tight grip on his leg, a grip of begging for a ‘No’ followed by the unsteady exhales of the person hiding right beside him underneath the counter.
“I did…” answers Krit as the bloody fingerprints on the door are too visible. If he says no, they’ll probably flip this store up side down just to catch whoever they are after, and then both Krit and the stranger bathing in blood might be dead in seconds, so he needs a proper explanation.
“But he stomped out and went that way.” continues Krit as he points to the opposite direction of the store, trying his best to hold a straight voice while locking eyes with them so they will not notice the blood drops on the floor that lead right to behind the counter. “If you leave now, you may catch him. If you don’t, you might be arrested because we have security cameras here and our supervisors properly have seen you. So, get out.” warns Krit with his ears echoing heart drums.
After a few seconds, the armed men seem convinced it’s not worth it to get into trouble, especially with the policee, so they quickly chase after the direction Krit pointed. As soon as they are out of his sight, Krit immediately locks the store. He will get into trouble with the owner tomorrow, but he doesn’t have two shits to give right now. There is a man bleeding right behind his counter and two armed marcos hunting him around. They can be back here any second and that will be the end of Krit.
“Wake the fuck up! Open your eyes!” shouts Krit as he shakes the man who is falling out of his consciousness. His leg hasn’t stopped bleeding at all. He only agrees to this work for money to afford school, not to this kind of mafia assassination plot twist, so no, this man is not dying here, on his shift.
“Try moving your legs. I’ll get you to the hospital.” keeps shouting Krit as he throws the man’s hand over his shoulders, trying to lift him up from the ground. He really should have gone to the gym or at least exercised more properly because Mr. Anonymous’s bodyweight is backbreaking.
“Not the hospital…” murmurs the man with his painful breath. “They will… find us, and… you’ll be killed too.”
“The fuck are you talking dude? If not hospital, then where?” grumbles Krit as he moves, nearly drags both of them to the back exist where he parks his bike.
“Your… your place…” murmurs the man again, this time, his breath appears much weaker.
“No fucking way. I am not taking you home. Not a single chance… HEY WAKE UP FOR FUCK’S SAKE!” nearly shouts Krit as the man slips out of his consciousness again.
—
Krit’s never heard himself pray louder than this. Every single time they pass by someone with masks, it reminds him of the gunned men he encountered earlier and he can hear his heart jumps out of his skinny chest. It’s the same Summer wind tearing around him, and it’s is the same path he goes home everyday, but tonight it feels like the longest ride of his life. As much as Krit wants to just dump him somewhere and get out of this uninvited trouble, he cannot. He knows for sure it will traumatize him mentally until the rest of his life. Moral sucks in these kinds of situation.
They finally arrive 15 minutes later at Krit’s tiny one-room condo. Krit lays him flat on the floor and carefully removes the blazer wrapping around his upper thigh. His beige trousers now turns crimson red and his wounds appear more severe than Krit thought. He’s been shot, twice and still bleeding. Krit tries applying pressure as strong as he can but nothing seems working. At that moment when Krit is pretty sure this man is going to die at his house tonight, and panic at how he is going to explain to the cops about the dead body next morning, the stranger’s phone buzzes violently in his pocket. Krit does not want to answer as it can be somebody trying to find and kill him, but consider the situation now, if he picks up it’s 50/50 that this man might live.
“H-hello?” answers Krit hesitantly.
“Who is this? Where is Billkin?” questions the female voice on the other line.
“Billkin? You mean dark hair, chapped lips, neck tattoo?” checks Krit as he really has no idea who Billkin is.
“Yes. Now can you please tell me where he is? He’s been calling me nonstop last hour but I was busy. I am his emergency contact.” repeats the woman with a worried voice.
“He is severely injured and currently at my place.”
“Tell me where you are. I’ll be on my way.”
“Wait, how can I trust you? What if you are here to kill him, and me?” replies Krit as he just remembers about the gunned men.
“You have no choice. If he dies there, you won’t live in peace. Now tell me so I can hurry up to save his ass, and your ass too.”
Krit finds himself tangled in another mess of thoughts. But it is true that he has no choice at this point. Fuck it. He mumbles and then pass on his address.
—
Sharply 10 minutes later, somebody knocks on his door. Through the small door hole, Krit can see a woman in glasses looking right back, as if she knew he would check.
“Emergency contact, here to save your ass.”
Only now Krit can be sure the sarcastic tone on the phone and this lady right here are the same person.
As soon as he opens the door, she stomps in to examine Krit’s uninvited guest. She unlocks the bag full of surgical tools and rips open Billkin’s right leg of trouser. A bit startled the 3 bullets stapled deep into his flesh, she still manages to examine the state of the wounds explicitly.
“What’s your name?” asks the women santizing her tools.
“K-Krit.”
“Well Krit, I need your help. Boil the water, bring me a clean bowl and towels. Give me a hand, if we save him, we save you!” orders the woman as she can see Krit is still tied up on his feet. She knows he must be shocked with this scene but there is no time to comfort now.
After everything she asks for is prepared, she makes another request. This time, it’s not just running around and boil stuff anymore.
“I am now going to remove the bullets. I need you hold him down with all of your strength. Don’t let him move, or he won’t ever walk again. Understood?”
Krit quietly nods and not long after she cuts the knives in, Billkin starts groaning half awaken from the pain. Krit, now sitting behind his back, is trying to hold the man tightly to his body so that he won’t thrash and hurt himself more. Krit gently rocks him back and forth to distract him from the bare surgery going on right down his thighs and whispers.
“You’re gonna be fine. It’ll be over soon.”
Krit really doesn’t know if his words and actions can reduce Billkin’s pain or not. He just knows when he fell and injured himself as a kid, a very dear friend of him did the same thing. They whispered and rocked Krit back and forth to distract him from the injuries, and it worked magic for him.
He rests Billkin’s head on his shoulder when the man starts tearing up in his deep brown eyes, now filled with aches and foremost discomfort. Krit can tell he’s trying his best to hold back the pain and to not scream from the top of his lungs with his lips biting onto each others. He reaches for Krit’s hands and holds onto them with all of his strength until all of their fingers begin to turn white and numb. His whole body now relying on Krit without knowing it. For a moment, Krit is reminded of someone he once knew very well.
At the other end, Ms. Emergency Contact is still trying her best to complete the surgery. 45 minutes have never felt so endless to the three of them, until she declares the removal of the last bullet. Krit finally lets out a long sign when Billkin’s body easing up. The peak tension passes at last when the very final stitches are done. He rests Billkin down on his soft pillow while the woman is busy making her calls.
In the small flat now soaked in a mixed scent of blood and antiseptic, he collapses right next to the Billkin, inhaling and exhaling all the very last worries of the night. Krit has so many questions on his thoughts, but he’s too worn out to make any further questions, and so Krit fall as sleep, with their hands still intertwined.
—
—
The blaring alarm goes off and shakes Krit out of his deep sleep. He sits straight up and listen to his own breaths in the quiet room. Both of his unexpected guests have already left.
If the blood stains on his towels are not that visible, Krit would have thought everything last night was a just a bad dream. But it wasn’t. Krit can still feel the tight grip on his fingers from the man called Billkin and his bleeding leg, and also the anonymous surgeon that saved both of them. As if he is not certain enough about the situation last night, his phone rings. It’s his morning-shift colleague from the store.
“Krit, where the hell are you? Why are there blood all over here?”
“Sorry, I’ll come over to clean up now. It’s just some fake blood I spilled last night. A school project.” tries to make up an excuse Krit as his eyebrows frown from the headache of lack of sleep. He can’t imagine how shocked his workmate will be if he straight up declares there was assassination activity in their store last night.
“You better hurry. We have to keep it open 24/7. Remember?”
“I’m on my way.”
He heads to the store, cleans up, goes back home, cleans the house and throws himself right back to sleep. He skips classes that morning. After the event last night, Krit’s glad he lives alone here in Bangkok, or else he’ll have to explain to his mom what happened. It’s even more troublesome than talking to the police.
Little does Krit know, the moment he decided to help Billkin, he already signed himself up for something unpredictable.