Chapter Text
Pat Napat leaned back in his chair, his eyes scanning the crowd of reporters gathered in front of him. The flashing cameras, the eager faces—he was used to it all. He was the golden boy of Thai action cinema, famous for his reckless stunts and his equally reckless off-screen behavior. He lived for the adrenaline, for the thrill of the next big scene, the next big party. But lately, even the thrill was wearing thin.
The press conference had gone on long enough. Pat could feel his patience wearing thin. He signaled to his publicist, who promptly announced the end of questions. As the reporters started to disperse, Pat sighed, rubbing his temples. His temper had been getting the best of him again lately, and he knew the studio was fed up. He could almost hear his mother’s voice in his head, urging him to calm down, to be more careful.
But careful wasn’t his style.
His new manager, however, was a different story.
Pat’s gaze drifted to the side of the room, where a man stood with arms folded, his expression stern. Pran. Of all the people they could have hired, it had to be him. The past came rushing back in a wave of anger and confusion.
Pran had been sent away to study in Singapore all those years ago, and Pat had never quite gotten over it. He remembered the fights, the rivalry between their families. But more than that, he remembered feeling abandoned.
He hated the way Pran stood there, so calm, so composed, like he was above it all.
Pran caught his gaze, and for a moment, their eyes locked. There was no warmth there, no recognition of the past. Just cool indifference. It sent a spark of irritation coursing through Pat’s veins. He turned away, clenching his jaw.
“Pat,” Pran called out, his voice cutting through the noise of the room. “We need to go over your schedule for next week. Now.”
Pat rolled his eyes. “Can’t it wait?”
Pran’s lips tightened. “No. It can’t.”
Pat let out an exaggerated sigh but got up anyway, making his way over to where Pran stood. As he approached, he caught a hint of Pran’s cologne—clean and fresh, just like he remembered. It brought back a flood of memories he’d rather not think about.
Pran turned on his heel and walked toward a quieter corner of the room, and Pat followed reluctantly, his irritation growing with each step.
When they were out of earshot, Pran handed him a sheet of paper. “Your schedule for next week. I’ve already made adjustments for the stunt training and the interviews. You need to be on time for these. No excuses.”
Pat snatched the paper out of his hand, scanning it briefly. “You’re really taking this job seriously, huh?”
Pran didn’t flinch. “That’s why I was hired.”
Pat scoffed. “Right, because they wanted someone who hates me.”
Pran’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he took a breath and said calmly, “I don’t have to like you to do my job.”
“Good, because I don’t like you either,” Pat shot back, his voice sharper than he intended.
Pran’s eyes flickered, just for a second, before he looked away. “Let’s just get through this without any drama, okay?”
Pat felt a surge of frustration. Pran always had this way of making him feel small, of putting him in his place. And it drove him mad.
“Whatever you say, boss,” Pat muttered sarcastically. He hated that Pran had this power over him, that he could make him feel anything at all.
Pran’s expression softened, just a fraction. “Pat, I’m not here to make your life difficult. I’m here to do my job. Let’s keep it professional.”
“Professional?” Pat laughed bitterly. “Since when have we ever been professional with each other?”
Pran’s eyes darkened, but he didn’t take the bait. “Just try, okay?”
Pat’s shoulders tensed. “Fine,” he grumbled, crumpling the schedule in his hand. “But don’t think for a second that I’m happy about this.”
Pran gave a small, resigned nod. “I wouldn’t expect you to be.”
They stood there in silence for a moment, the weight of their shared history hanging heavy between them.
Pat broke the silence first. “Why did you take this job anyway? I know you hate me.”
Pran looked at him, his expression unreadable. “I took it because it was a good opportunity. And because they needed someone who wouldn’t fall for your… charm.”
Pat’s mouth twisted into a smirk. “So you’re saying you’re immune to me?”
Pran’s gaze didn’t waver. “Completely.”
For a second, Pat almost believed him. But there was something in Pran’s eyes, a flicker of something he couldn’t quite place.
Pat felt a strange mix of anger and something else, something he couldn’t name. He turned on his heel and walked away, not trusting himself to stay any longer.
“See you on set,” Pran called after him, his tone professional, almost bored.
Pat didn’t look back. “Yeah, whatever,” he muttered under his breath, but his heart was racing in a way he hadn’t felt in a long time.
As he walked out of the room, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was standing on the edge of something dangerous, something he wasn’t ready to face.
And he hated it.
But deep down, beneath all the anger and frustration, he felt a spark. And he knew, with a sinking feeling, that this was only the beginning.