Arthit left the club in a rush. He didn't know where he was going; all he knew was that he didn't want to be there anymore. He knew coming was a bad idea. He felt it from the moment they pulled into the parking lot, but it was his own fault for letting Tutah convince him to go in.

He stopped in the middle of the parking lot, his body tensing as he remembered the confrontation he just had and Tutah's connection to it.

That bastard...

He thought viciously, his hands clenching into fists as he turned around and started back towards the entrance, but he stopped short.

He couldn't go hauling off into the club after Tutah, not for something like this—something that shouldn't matter to him, even though it kinda did. Kongpob wasn't part of his life anymore—he had never really been—so this jealousy Arthit was feeling was completely inappropriate.

A heavy sigh left Arthit and, feeling rather dejected, he turned and finally left Table Top's parking lot. He walked along the sidewalk with no destination in mind, and after awhile he shoved his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket.

Arthit stiffened when his fingers brushed against the ticket he had taken from Tutah and, even as he resisted the urge to do so, he pulled it out of his pocket.

It looked like any other normal raffle ticket; small, blue, and completely innocent. There was nothing on the small slip of heavy paper to suggest its true purpose. Arthit thought about throwing it away. He even stopped in front of a waste bin and held the ticket over it, but for some reason, he couldn't let go. He sighed again before shoving his hand back in his pocket and then he continued on his way.

He wondered as he walked along, cars passing him in the hazy night, what had happened in Kongpob's life that had changed him so drastically. Arthit couldn't believe, not for a moment, that what he did to Kongpob in high school was to blame.

It had happened so long ago and teenagers were resilient, surely Kongpob had gotten over it only to open himself to something even more damaging—something that would eventually lead the young man to Table Top.

Arthit's fingers curled into fists inside of his pockets and he felt a slight shiver pass through him as something, something soft and something he hadn't heard in a long, long time suggested that maybe, just maybe he had more to do with Kongpob's downfall than what Arthit was willing to admit.

x x x

Once upon a time, when Arthit was still the popular football star, there was an Upperclassmen. Everyone knew his name, and yet no one knew him.

He was a Suthiluck and that, within itself, was no small thing to be. His surname almost certainly guaranteed him popularity from the trails blazed by his siblings before him, but he had never reached for it. He was quiet, smart, and just the tiniest bit dorky.

He was an outcast—an outcast that watched instead of participated. He was shy and sweet, but had an aura about him, one that drew people in. Arthit wasn't the first and he certainly wouldn't be the last, but he'd be the only one to abuse it once he was accepted.

Being an outcast meant that the upperclassman was a target for teasing and bullying. It didn't matter to the student body who he was or who he was related to, he was an object of ridicule just the same.

One day, during a fit of boredom, Arthit's friends decided to use the outcast as a means to amuse themselves and like any other teenager his age striving for approval and acceptance, Arthit followed their lead.

That was the day the bet was made—the one that'd come to haunt Arthit for years. It was made because one of his friends mentioned how stuck up the youngest Suthiluck was, how prudish he seemed while he sat at that table all by himself.

All of his friends laughed in agreement, even Arthit. A suggestion was made, the suggestion that would become the basis of the bet: 'I'd be willing to bet he'd loosen right up if he got laid.'

At first, no one wanted to take the bet. They all stayed quiet, not rising up to the challenge because the subject of the bet was rather stuck up, and rather prudish. Conquering him would not be easy. But Arthit had never been one to turn away from a challenge and he pointed this out to his friends.

'You'll take him then, Oon?'

'Yeah, I'll take him...and, then make him beg for more.'

His friends laughed, congratulated him, patted him on the back and Arthit felt like he was the king of the world. He asked Kongpob Suthiluck out to a movie after the final class of the day and, to his surprise, the upperclassmen readily agreed.

That was the beginning, but Arthit could've never guessed how his friends would've ended it. He never guessed that they'd want proof of him fulfilling the bet and sleeping with Kongpob. He never imagined that they'd take pictures and pass them around to their classmates. He never thought his classmates were particularly cruel, but he'd never forget the glistening, Black letters spray painted across Kongpob's locker.

Kongpob didn't come to school the next day, or the next, or the next and finally Arthit worked up the courage to ask about him and the secretary told him that he was withdrawn from the school's computer systems. Kongpob wasn't coming back and he never did...not until now.

Arthit wasn't sure how far he had walked when he came to a brightly lit diner, the only decent looking place stuck in the middle of a town that barely passed being described as a slum. It didn't look busy, but it looked warm and friendly. He needed warm and friendly right now, and, well, he wouldn't turn down a cup of coffee either. However, he didn't immediately go in. He simply stood and stared, and then his eyes fell on another face he thought he'd never see again.

Her name wouldn't come to mind, but he knew she was Kongpob's older sister,—the out-going one, the queen of the drama club, and the most fashionable person at their quaint little high school. Again that question weighed heavily on his mind: What was she doing here? He had thought this young woman was destined for something greater than a diner in the bad part of town.

But, here she was, catching his gaze with a shock of recognition.

He considered walking away, pretending like he hadn't even noticed her, but he couldn't bring himself to do it—it was like she held the one end of an invisible string, the other tied to him and she was simply pulling him along. She had that same aura that her brother did, the sort that drew you in even though you knew it wasn't a good idea.

Arthit felt an aching sense of foreboding as he finally entered the diner.

"Now there's a face I never thought I'd see again!"

Her voice was the same, as was her face and her posture. Her name tag read May and he remembered her bright, friendly smiles in high school morphing into hateful glares.

"H-hey," he replied softly, hesitantly as he lifted his hand in a greeting as May waved him over to a seat at the front.

"Hey, yourself," May chirped brightly as she sat a white coffee cup in front of him before filling it with hot coffee.

"What are you doing on this side of town?" she asked next, a curious look in her eye, as she set the coffee pot down before motioning to a small holder of menus behind the napkin holder.

Arthit tensed at the question and, honestly, he didn't want to answer, but the look that May gave him suggested that she already knew. He took a deep breath and broke her gaze, looking down at the cup of coffee in front of him.

"I was, um..." he started softly, May having to lean over the counter separating them to hear.

"I went out to Table Top with some friends of mine, to celebrate finals."

May nearly gasped, but she choked it back and the sound that came out instead resembled a strangled cough.

"T-table Top, huh?" she asked, though not for clarification if her high pitched, slightly worried tone was anything to go by.
"Did you, uh, see any dancers?" she continued as she pulled her order pad from her apron.
"I heard they've got really amazing dancers."

"I did, actually..." Arthit replied honestly before he looked up at the woman, watching as she chewed on her lower lip. "...and I saw Kongpob dance. I wasn't expecting to see him, and—"

"You didn't buy him, did you?" May interrupted almost immediately as her eyes fell back on him, holding his gaze with a heated clarity. Her voice was low, and strained, Arthit had trouble hearing her as she spoke again, her voice forceful, "Did you?"

His eyes widened at the uncharacteristically hard tone, but Arthit didn't answer. His cheeks flushed deeply and his face was heated with the display as May cursed softly under her breath, tearing her eyes from his own.

"No! I didn't buy it! I swear," Arthit rushed to explain himself. "I took it from Tutah."

He realized, just moments after he had said it, that that wasn't the smartest thing to say.

May was leaning over the countertop again, inches from his face so that Arthit had to lean back as she viciously hissed,

"And that makes it any better?!" She ignored the other costumers as they stopped eating, drinking, and chattering to turn and watch their hushed, but heated exchange.
"You have no business with Kongpob. Not after what you've done to him."

"I haven't done anything to him!"

May's jaw clenched at his word and, once again, Arthit knew he had said the wrong thing. The woman was a sight to behold in all of her anger and, for a moment, he actually feared for his wellbeing.

"He loved you and you used him," she snarled viciously, her whispering sounding ear  splitting loud in the quiet diner.
"You used him and tossed him to the wolves."