Wen

I am Wen Channarong, an illegitimate son of Pravat Kittibun, the CEO of the biggest hotel chain in the country. However, this fact remains unknown to everyone. I'm happy living my quiet life as well. Though my father recognizes me as his son, I'd rather live my life in peace, away from the controversies of wealthy individuals.

My father supported my entrepreneurial aspirations, allowing me to start my own business. I deliberately chose not to venture into the hotel industry and opted for a location away from the bustling streets of the main city. That's how DRY&DIRTY, a small diner and bar, came into existence. While it may not be a large establishment, the business was thriving.

I found a two-story building on the outskirts of the city and fell in love with it. I knew this would be the perfect spot for my bar. I can also utilize the second floor as my living space and office. The bar's outdoor seating area has a few seats to accommodate our smoking customers. Inside, tables and chairs that can seat small and large groups of diners are spread across the floor. A small elevated stage stands on the corner which hosts some small-time musicians that help lighten up the mood of the bar. The kitchen is quite spacious, which includes the staff break room. Meanwhile, the bar counter is situated in the middle of the room. It's not that big, but it's spacious enough to accommodate probably a hundred people. There is a staircase at the back of the pub that leads to a small open area when you reach the second floor. There I keep a few plants that are low maintenance. The living room has a big couch that serves as my bed whenever I come home late from closing the bar. The kitchen is spacious because I don't have a dining table. Since I live alone, I just use the kitchen peninsula or the coffee table in the living room. I transformed one room into my office and chose the one with the window on the east side as my bedroom. Having my place just above the bar makes it easier for me to check on my business.

Opening night at DRY&DIRTY had been a success. The cozy, minimalistic bar had a hint of retro vibe that attracted a decent crowd of middle-class workers seeking a place to relax after a long day of work. I watch my patrons enjoying their drinks and chatting with friends, feeling a sense of satisfaction. It may not be the biggest bar in town, but it was thriving and I'm happy with it.

Sometimes, a cozy and intimate atmosphere can be more appealing to customers than a large, impersonal space. The bar had its own unique charm that seemed to draw people in. The carefully curated drinks menu and the warm ambiance made it a popular spot. The bar had become more than just a business; it was a place where people find comfort and relaxation, a place where they feel a sense of belongingness.

Life had settled into a pleasant routine. Since I'm a morning person, even if I go home in the wee hours of the morning after closing the bar, I still get up early to run around town. Oftentimes I go to the gym 3 blocks from my place making sure I stay fit enough to carry drunk customers to the bus station. Then I check on the bar's inventory of drinks and make sure that we have fresh ingredients for the menu that night. On some nights, I even tend the bar myself, mixing drinks and engaging with the customers. It was my way of staying connected to the business and the people who frequented it. I usually tend the bar during the weekends when it's busy.

I woke up one summer morning on a Tuesday and decided to skip my usual jog. Instead, I focused on checking tonight's menu and making some changes to satisfy my craving for something different. I called Top, my head chef, to discuss the modifications. Later in the evening, I decided to work the counter myself, curious about how things were on a weekday. Even though it was a regular workday, there were still quite a few customers in the restaurant.

I was in the midst of charming some ladies at the counter, taking their orders (and numbers) for margaritas, when a strikingly handsome man in glasses entered the bar. He was dressed in a crisp white shirt and perfectly fitted jeans, his disheveled hair and inviting lips catching my attention immediately. He walked with purpose, heading straight for the far end of the counter. Placing his bespoke jacket on the table, he ordered a shot of whiskey, his voice soft and almost fragile, as if his heart had recently been shattered. He wasted no time in downing the drink as soon as I placed it in front of him and signaled for another, all the while silently gazing at his phone, as if he were eagerly awaiting a message.

He orders another shot of whiskey, his 8th glass, and settles his bill. It's almost dawn now and the bar was supposed to close 30 mins ago. He is the only customer remaining, and half of the staff has already gone home. “Y'all can go now. I'll take care of the rest here,” I said to the remaining staff.

I put the last glass I cleaned back on the rack when I noticed that the guy had rested his head on the counter. I approached him to tell him we're closing but He almost fell from his seat as I tried to wake him up. He was too drunk to stand on his own, so I did what I usually do. I carried him behind me and headed to the bus stop just outside the bar. He held on to me tightly as he let out a long weary sigh. I couldn't ignore the palpable weight of sadness that seemed to hang in the air after that sigh. It stirred something inside me, a sense that this person needed someone by their side in that vulnerable moment. Despite my usual policy of not allowing anyone into my private space, I made a spontaneous decision to take him home.

I closed the bar, and with a sense of purpose, I helped him to his feet. I carried him towards the stairs behind the building, leading the way to my place.

I gently laid him down on the sofa and made my way to the kitchen to fetch some cold towels to wipe his face. As I got closer, the proximity allowed me to appreciate his features more intimately. I couldn't help but notice the fairness of his skin, which seemed almost ethereal in the dim light.

Carefully, I removed his glasses, revealing more of his face. His eyebrows were thick and expressive, casting a subtle shadow over his closed eyelids. Long, dark lashes framed those eyes, adding to their allure. His cheeks bore a rosy hue, likely from the effects of the alcohol that had left him in this vulnerable state. My eyes couldn't help but be drawn to his lips, which were undeniably enticing, tempting, and utterly captivating. I felt a magnetic pull towards them, a desire that stirred within me. I shook my head, trying to regain my composure and fight the temptation that threatened to overwhelm me.

Just as I was reeling myself back from the brink, he slowly opened his eyes. Those hazel-brown orbs gazed at me with a longing that sent a shiver down my spine. In a soft, imploring voice, he uttered, "Stay."His hands wrapped around my neck ,drawing me closer,and his warm breath caressed my lips. Our lips met in a slow, gentle dance, and I could taste the warmth of his kiss, sweet yet tinged with a hint of bitterness. I was startled by the suddenness of it all, torn between resisting and succumbing to the allure of his soft, trembling lips. But as quickly as the kiss had ignited, he pushed me away abruptly, and the moment was shattered as he began to retch and vomit onto the floor.

I was stunned, then couldn't help but smirk as I realized he was still inebriated. I knew that nothing good happens when you're drunk, and this situation was no exception. Deciding to clean up the mess, I undressed him carefully, not wanting to disturb his rest. Then, I carried him to my bed and laid him down gently. As I watched him, tears started rolling down his cheeks.

"It's gonna be okay," I whispered softly as I wiped away his tears. I dimmed the night lamp before heading to the sofa to sleep.

Arm

I walked aimlessly through the street when I came across a bar and decided to drown my sorrows in alcohol. The night was supposed to end on a happy note. I was planning to confess my feelings for him, but it resulted in me waking up in someone else's bed.

I am one of the most renowned architects and interior designers in the architecture and construction industry. I, Arm Saeng-Arun, the CEO of Haven Designs, am sought after by major construction companies for his flawless designs that are renowned worldwide. A winner of the Dezeen Award since 2017. I have been representing the country at various international interior design conferences. My designs have been featured and have graced the covers of various magazines such as Vogue, Elle Decor, and House Beautiful. However, despite all of these achievements, I am still single. Why? Because I have been secretly in love with my childhood friend for as long as I can remember.

When I was 8 years old, my father, who is an engineer, was assigned to supervise a project in this city. We relocated here, and I also continued my education here. I'm not the outgoing type, so I have been alone at school since I transferred. Then one day, a boy came to me and asked if I would like to share his snack because his lunch pack was too much for him. I found out that we were also neighbors. From then on, we were inseparable. He was Kinn. The eldest son of a distinguished family of doctors. We would walk home together from school and sometimes stop by the playground until the sun started to set. He was my best friend, up until now.

I called him earlier today, "Hey Kinn, I have something to tell you."

"What is it?" "I have something to tell you as well." - Kinn

"Then, let's meet up at Artemis for dinner later." "Is that fine?"

"Sure, let's meet at 7. See you later, bud!" (click) - Kinn

I never thought the day would come when I'd summon the courage to bare my feelings to Kinn. It was a mix of excitement and nervousness that coursed through me. For our meeting, I chose to wear a simple white shirt paired with fitted jeans to complement my newly purchased jacket. Arriving early, I took the opportunity to reserve our table and review the menu.

A few minutes later, Kinn called to inform me that he'd be running a bit late, so I ordered a coffee and settled in to wait. However, my anticipation turned into surprise when Kinn walked in through the entrance, but he wasn't alone.

"Arm! Sorry I'm late. This is Wyn, my fiance." Kinn said excitedly as they sat across the table.

I nearly spilled my coffee upon hearing the news. My hand felt cold and my chest felt tight but I forced a smile.

"Congratulations! It's about time, Kinn! I was already thinking that you were into me since we always hang out together!"

"He never told me that he was seeing someone. So, this is great news. When is the wedding?". I said, as I gently put down my cup of coffee with my trembling hand.

" Thank you. It's still too early to announce, but we'll probably have it next year once Kinn becomes the Medical Director at his father's hospital," Wyn enthusiastically said.

"So, what were you going to tell me?" Kinn asked, holding Wyn's hand and kissing it.

" Oh, it's nothing important. "I just want to show off the new jacket I bought overseas," I muttered as I tried to hold back my tears.

"I forgot that I had some work to check, so I'll be taking my leave now," I said as I scurried away, unable to prevent my tears from falling.

My tears blurred my vision behind my glasses as I left Artemis, the weight of heartbreak pressing down on me like an anchor. With each step I took through the city's dimly lit streets, I felt the world around me grow colder and more distant.

In my aimless wanderings, I stumbled upon a small, cozy bar tucked away in a quiet corner. Its unassuming entrance beckoned to me like a beacon of solace amidst the storm of my emotions. I entered the establishment and made my way directly to the sleek bar counter.

"Whiskey on the rocks, please," I requested, my voice quivering with the weight of sorrow that threatened to consume me. The bartender nodded silently, understanding that I sought refuge in the amber embrace of strong liquor.

My first drink was almost an instant blur, a desperate attempt to drown the overwhelming sadness that had taken hold of me. I immediately ordered another, my eyes fixated on my phone as I awaited a call from Kinn. My heart ached for him to reach out, to reassure me that everything was just a cruel joke, a prank gone too far.

In that dimly lit bar, amidst the soft murmur of conversations and the faint strains of melancholic music, I clung to the fragile hope that the world would right itself, that the pain tearing through me would be alleviated by a simple message or a familiar voice on the other end of the line.

As I lost myself in a sea of drinks and despair, the passage of time became a blur, and my surroundings morphed into a disjointed kaleidoscope of emotions. Seeking refuge from the turmoil inside me, I rested my heavy head upon the cool, polished bar counter, hoping to find some respite from the relentless whirlwind of thoughts.

In that hazy moment, a gentle yet determined tug at my shoulder roused me from my stupor. Blinking back the alcohol-induced fog, I hastily adjusted my glasses, allowing me to discern the figure that stood before me. To my amazement and relief, it was Kinn. The sight of him, in that dimly lit bar, felt like an unexpected lifeline thrown to a drowning soul.

As Kinn's strong arms enveloped me, lifting me from my wobbly perch on the barstool, I clung to him as if he were my anchor in the turbulent sea of my emotions. The alcohol had rendered my limbs heavy and uncooperative, leaving me utterly dependent on his support.

With my head resting on his shoulder, I struggled to form coherent words. My voice emerged as a slurred whisper, the alcohol-infused haze making articulation a herculean task. "Kinn... you came for me... take me home," I managed to utter, my words a fragile plea.

Kinn, ever the pillar of support, didn't hesitate. He hoisted me onto his back, and I clung to him, feeling the reassuring strength of his chiseled frame pressing against me.I wished, oh how I wished, I could tell him then and there that I loved him, that my heart had silently yearned for him for far too long. But the alcohol had bound my tongue, leaving my confession locked in the depths of my intoxicated soul.

He laid me down on the couch, and a warm towel touched my face. His warm breath brushed against my skin, carrying a faint scent of sweetness mixed with a hint of sweat as if he had just finished work. I couldn't recognize if this was the same perfume he was wearing earlier at the restaurant.

My words stumbled out, slurred by the alcohol that clouded my senses. "Kinn, I like you," I confessed, desperation and longing mixed in my voice. My eyes struggled to open, searching for a sign that he hadn't meant what he'd said earlier. "You were just joking, right? You're not going to marry that girl, right?" My pleas were desperate, fueled by the fear of losing him. "Don't leave me. We've been together for so long. Please, don't leave me. Stay."

In my drunken haze, I clung to him, wrapping my arm around his neck and pulling him closer. Our faces were inches apart, the scent of whiskey heavy in the air. I couldn't resist the temptation any longer, and I kissed him deeply, pouring all the longing and hidden emotions into that stolen moment. It was a kiss that had been a long time coming, but the whiskey churned in my stomach, threatening to betray me.

Unable to hold on any longer, I released him, the world spinning around me, and darkness claimed me as I passed out, my heart heavy with the weight of my unspoken feelings.

The warm morning sun cast gentle rays on my face, and a soothing breeze fluttered the curtains through the open window. Despite the comfortable surroundings, I didn't want to move. My head throbbed, and my throat felt parched. As I turned to my side, I noticed my glasses resting beside a glass of warm honey water on the bedside table. I sat up slowly, taking a sip of the soothing drink, and glanced around the room, realizing that I was in an unfamiliar place.

"Where am I?" I murmured to myself.

"Aaaargh!" I gasped, panic rising as I suddenly became aware that my shirt was missing. Just then, a man, half-dressed and wearing an apron, rushed into the bedroom to check on me.

"You're awake. How do you feel?" he inquired, with concern in his voice. "I washed your shirt. You can wear one from the closet in the meantime. Come out whenever you're ready," he added before returning to the kitchen.

I was left alone in the room, my mind racing to piece together the events of the previous night, desperately trying to recall how I had ended up in this unfamiliar place.

Hello,Goodbye

Arm

I woke up in an unfamiliar but well-designed bedroom. The morning sun poured through the open window, casting a warm glow across the room and causing the curtains to sway gently in the cool breeze. The centerpiece of the room was a luxurious king-size bed, commanding attention with its inviting comfort.

My eyes were drawn to a small bedside table where my glasses and a glass of warm honey water awaited, a thoughtful gesture that hinted at the host's hospitality. The room's color scheme was tastefully minimalistic, featuring soft gray walls accented by crisp white elements, reminiscent of the bar you had visited the night before.

As I took a cautious sip of the honey water, my thoughts were momentarily diverted to my bare chest, a realization that brought a gasp of surprise. Questions swirled in my mind, wondering where I was and why I found myself undressed. It was at this moment that the door swung open, revealing a man dressed in an apron, his upper body exposed, and the mystery of your current situation deepened.

I couldn't help but blurt out, "Who are you?" The question hung in the air, laden with confusion and curiosity, as I tried to make sense of the situation I found myself in.

I followed up with another urgent question, "Where am I?" The room around me felt unfamiliar, and I was desperately seeking answers to piece together the events that had led here. The events from the previous night were a hazy blur, and I was searching for clues to fill in the gaps in my memory.

"You're finally awake," he said, his voice calm and reassuring. "I washed your shirt, so feel free to wear one of mine from the closet. You can come out whenever you're ready," he added before turning his back on you and heading back to the kitchen.

I enter the spacious closet, and my eyes are drawn to the variety of clothes neatly hung and organized. There are a couple of expensive tailored suits, exuding sophistication and professionalism. Next to them, is a collection of leather jackets, each telling a story of adventure and rebellion. There are tracksuits that hint at a love for comfort and athleticism, and plain tees for those casual days.

However, one thing strikes me about this wardrobe – everything is in shades of black and white, exuding a sense of simplicity and elegance. Among these choices, I opt for a simple white shirt that contrasts beautifully with the surrounding monochrome palette. With my chosen shirt in hand, I make my way to the kitchen, where the intriguing man awaits.

"Before I answer your questions, eat first," he said, pushing the bowl of warm soup in front of me. The warm soup worked wonders in calming my uneasy stomach. With each spoonful, it felt like a comforting embrace from the inside, soothing my nerves. While I continued to eat, my curiosity got the better of me, and I began to study the man seated across from me.

He was a striking figure, tall and well-built, his broad shoulders giving him an air of strength and confidence. His hair was casually tied in a low, messy bun, giving him a relaxed yet stylish appearance. His skin was fair and smooth, enhancing the natural attractiveness of his face. In fact, he had the kind of looks that could easily land him on the cover of a magazine.

As I stared at his lips, memories from the previous night flooded back with a sudden intensity that left me breathless. Images of his warm breath against my skin, his lips grazing mine, and the passionate kiss we shared replayed vividly in my mind. My heart raced, and my cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

The realization hit me like a ton of bricks, and I nearly choked on the soup as the pieces of the puzzle fell into place. It wasn't Kinn who had brought me here last night; it was this enigmatic stranger whose lips had left such an indelible mark on my memory. Panic surged through me as I tried to piece together the events of the night.

The man watched me closely, his expression a mixture of curiosity and amusement. "You seem lost in thought," he remarked, breaking the heavy silence that had settled between us.

I cleared my throat, struggling to find the right words. "I... I remember now. Last night, I... I kissed you," I stammered, my face turning even redder.

He chuckled softly, his eyes twinkling with mirth. "Yes, you did," he replied casually as if such encounters were an everyday occurrence for him. "But it was the whiskey talking, wasn't it?"

I nodded, relieved that he didn't seem offended or upset by my sudden confession. "I'm so sorry. I don't usually... I mean, I've never done anything like that before," I admitted, feeling a mix of embarrassment and regret.

He leaned back in his chair, his smile warm and disarming. "Don't worry about it. We all have our moments of recklessness," he said as if he were speaking from personal experience. "Besides, it's not every day that I have such an interesting guest."

I raised an eyebrow, curious about the man who had taken care of me in my drunken stupor. "So, who are you, and why did you bring me here?"

He extended a hand, introducing himself. "I'm Wen, and this is my place. As for why I brought you here, well, you were in no condition to get home safely last night. I couldn't just leave you on the street, could I?"

His explanation made sense, and I felt a wave of gratitude wash over me. "Thank you, Wen, for taking care of me," I said, sincerity in my voice. "I'm Arm, by the way."

Wen smiled again, a genuine warmth in his eyes. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Arm. Now that you're awake and feeling better, perhaps you'd like to tell me what brought you to that bar last night?"

Despite his timely help, I hesitated to disclose my love-related predicament to a complete stranger. "I'm sorry, but I'd rather not discuss it any further," I expressed as I finished my soup. "You've already done so much. I'm the one who owes you if anything at all. Here is my business card. If there is anything that I can be of assistance with, please don't hesitate to call. And please, I hope we can forget what happened last night. You should do so too." I offered my business card with a faint smile, the weight of our shared secret hanging in the air.

The mysterious man accepted the card, his expression unreadable. "I appreciate your offer," he replied with a nod, tucking the card away. "And I understand your wish to forget. Let's leave the past where it belongs."

With a mutual understanding, I prepared to leave, my mind filled with a whirlwind of emotions and questions. We descended the stairs and went to the front of the bar, where a motorcycle was parked. Before we parted ways, Wen made a kind gesture, gesturing toward the motorcycle as an option for my transportation.

"I'm about to head to the city. Would you like me to drop you off somewhere near your home?" He inquired, extending a courtesy that seemed almost at odds with the peculiar circumstances that had brought us together.

I hesitated, my mind a tempest of thoughts, but then I declined with gratitude. "You have already been more than generous. I'll manage on my own."

We exchanged one final nod, an unspoken farewell, before parting ways. I hailed a taxi, heading home to grapple with the events of the previous night and the enigmatic encounter that had altered the course of my life. On the journey back, my mind couldn't escape the events of the previous night. From gathering the courage to confess my feelings to Kinn, to the bewildering experience of waking up in another man's bed the following day. Embarrassment, confusion, and regret swirled within me.

Upon reaching my apartment, I sought solace in a long, soothing shower, attempting to cleanse away the lingering traces of whiskey and the morning's awkwardness. Thoughts of the enigmatic stranger who had come to my aid and shared that unusual night with me consumed my mind. It was an encounter driven by chance, but I couldn't help but wonder—would our paths cross once more?

Wen

I woke up early as usual and embarked on my morning jog. The sun had just begun to grace the sky, painting it with a magnificent palette of orange and pink hues. After completing a couple of rounds, I decided it was time to head back home for a refreshing shower. Being accustomed to solitude, I didn't bother donning a shirt as I busied myself with breakfast preparations.

I was nearly finished cooking a hearty hangover soup when I heard my guest beginning to stir. Swiftly, I turned off the stove and made my way to my room. After opening the door, I greeted him with a warm smile, "You're awake. I've taken the liberty of washing your shirt, so please feel free to borrow one from the closet. Join me for breakfast whenever you're ready." With that, I headed back to the kitchen to set the table, leaving him to get ready at his own pace.

He emerged into the kitchen, wearing a perplexed and somewhat suspicious expression. It was evident that he might have been too intoxicated the previous night to recall the events clearly. "I'll answer your questions once you're full," I offered, placing a steaming bowl of the hangover soup in front of him. In my casual approach to the morning, I had completely forgotten that I wasn't wearing a shirt.

As I watched him, I noticed his gaze fixed on me, his eyes studying my body and my face intently. To add a playful twist to the situation, I decided to tease him a bit. I playfully ran my tongue over my lips, aware that he was observing them closely. My gesture seemed to trigger memories from the night before, as he nearly choked on his soup, his face flushing with embarrassment as he lowered his head.

"You seem lost in thought," I remarked with a smile, fully aware that he had recalled the events of the previous night. My curiosity was piqued, and I desired to understand the reasons behind his excessive drinking. I couldn't fathom why my heart had ached when I witnessed his tears that night. However, he appeared reluctant to discuss it, and I respected his decision, recognizing that I was still essentially a stranger to him.

He asked that I forget everything that had transpired the previous night as if he wished to erase all memories of those events. Then, he offered me his business card as a token of gratitude, encouraging me to reach out if I ever needed assistance.

As I prepared for my business meeting in the city, I tucked away the card and said, "You don't need to pay me back, but I'll take your offer."

Afterward, we descended the stairs and reached where my motorcycle was parked. Although I offered him a ride as a final gesture of kindness, he politely declined. I didn't insist and started the engine of my motorcycle. With a parting wish, I said, "If fate brings us together again, I hope you'll be in better spirits." With that, I revved the engine and rode off, wondering if this was our final encounter or if destiny had other plans in store.