Kengkla doesn't go to the practice, heads straight home, and rushes through the door up to his bedroom.

He throws the car keys in the general direction of his desk, doesn't check to see where they land, roughly takes off his shoes and throws them at a corner somewhere - his jacket ends up at the back of a chair. He doesn't even bother checking to see if anyone else is home before he ran upstairs. He doesn't care.

The only thing Kengkla cares about is his phone, clutching it in his hands as he throws himself at the bed on his stomach. He's texted Techno plenty of times since yesterday, called him, left voicemails - everything. There's been no answer.

His phone says it's two in the afternoon when the screen lights up, but Kengkla doesn't feel hungry. He doesn't remember the drive home nor if he stopped to eat, doesn't remember the minutes between walking from the car to the front door.

Kengkla tries not to think about what happened - the conversation between himself and Type. He doesn't feel the weight of his words yet, still hanging onto some hope that Techno will answer. But he can't think about it any longer. He's more exhausted these past two days than he remembers ever being in his life. After sending Techno a few more texts and trying to get past his voicemail, Kengkla falls asleep.

...

When he wakes up, Kengkla's first instinct is to reach for his phone, only to find zero calls, zero voicemails, and no text messages. It's almost eight at night already. Still no hunger.

The bed seems colder than usual, Kengkla notes to himself while he drops the phone, letting it slip from his fingers. He wraps the blankets tighter around himself, hides under them and closes his eyes like he's a child again. He leaves his phone on the bed behind him and turns on his side, hiding under the blankets and stares at his hand.

There's still a small scar on the inside from when he purposefully cut himself just to get Techno's attention. Techno was so caring, so quick to come to his rescue. It was probably one of the few lies Techno doesn't know - if he really read all his messages to Technic

Trying to push these thoughts from his head, Kengkla turns his gaze to his other hand and stares at the clean, unmarked palm. It reminds him of the time his grandmother told him he would never be truly happy because two of the lines in his palm that didn't meet where they were supposed to. He stares at them now, traces them with his fingernail.

It makes him reflect on how he used to trace them into Techno's mouth, how Techno would lick at them despite his whines and protests. Kengkla remembers when he pressed down on Techno's tongue, remembers the other's teeth against his knuckles, fingers entwined with his; the feeling of caressing soft hair soaked with sweat.

He remembers the first time he kissed Techno.

Techno was drunk, Kengkla knew, but the other gripped Kengkla's hair and arched up against his body, pressed his mouth to his. Then that night, he remembers the way Techno begged him to keep going, the heat of skin on skin, the tightness of Techno's - he stops there.

Kengkla thought it was okay, everything was okay because Techno responded. If he was completely dead to the world, there's no way Kengkla would have done it. No way, he tells himself. But he did, and there's no way he can take it back. He apologized, over and over, through text, voicemails - he even tried to find him.

The reminder brings him misery, and his throat tightens as he blinks past the beginnings of what might be tears. His vision hazes out-of-focus by the force of sadness that is rushing through him.

It's not that he didn't know it was wrong. There are many things he's done wrong in his life. He's practically a pathological liar at this point. But this one - this instance - was especially wrong. Kengkla knew it the minute he told Technic about his plan, knew it when e climbed onto a drunken Techno and took advantage of him. But he was so wrapped up in his own head that convinced himself it was worth it. Techno would never be his unless he took him this way, lied to him about the events, and became his perfect boyfriend.

And Techno would never find out. That's what he told himself every day.

It was the only way he knew how to live: "Don't ask for permission, Ask for forgiveness. You're the only one looking out for number one." That's what his parents taught him, not only with words but by their actions. His father and mother were his only role models, and once he met Technic, he completely gave in to this dark side. He dated girls, only to dump them within a few weeks. He stole money from his parents when they wouldn't give him an allowance, lied about where he was after school, and sold his test answers and assignments to other students.

His evil deeds started early. The only light he ever knew was Techno. He was so kind-hearted, selfless, good-natured, and innocent. So Kengkla had hoped with everything in him that Techno would forgive him if he ever found out. He would understand why Kengkla did it. But clearly, he doesn't.

And that's what Kengkla can't accept. He doesn't know how to move forward without Techno in his life. His memories from before he met Techno were practically a blur.

Kengkla can't seem to stop crying. It's probably the first time in his life he's cried this much without faking it. The tears keep flowing, spilling up from the depths of his chest to tangle and hiccup in his throat. With every breath, he thinks he will have collected himself, thinks he may be on the verge of returning to something like composure.

And then he will remember Techno is gone, and emotions will rise up his throat to choke him into another round of tears. It's a pathetic sight to behold. But it's like he's traveling back in time with each thought, revisiting all the weight of the past weeks and months and years.

He buries his face in the pillow and cries until he exhausts himself out and falls asleep again.

It's nearing 10 o'clock the next morning when Kengkla finally gathers enough motivation to push himself up from his bed and attempt some sort of coherency and functional human behavior.

He puts his phone to charge, not wanting to keep looking for a text or call that won't come. He sits on the edge of the mattress, drags his hands down his face. Out of all the terrible things about this day, he particularly isn't looking forward to cleaning up the mess he's made of his room and of himself.

When he does look around the room and then at the small mirror above his dresser, Kengkla lets out a small startled noise at the disaster of a person he's turned himself and his room into. It will be a good distraction, Kengkla thinks, and he begins cleaning for the next few hours.

His room is spotless by the time he's done. It's as clean as can be. The clothes he'd thrown about haphazardly aren't anywhere to be found on the floor, or on the couch, or on the hanger by the door, or on the door handle. His bed is made, sheets tucked in perfectly under the mattress, but now he's messier than before, drenched in sweat and dust.

Kengkla thought this would help distract him from thinking about Techno, but it only reminds him of Techno's room, which is always in a state of disarray.

He closes his eyes and breathes. It takes him every single ounce of willpower he has ever possessed in his life not to call Techno again. Instead, he heads downstairs to eat for what must be the first time in 12 hours.

When Kengkla's done with eating breakfast and drinking a cup of coffee, he washes the dishes right after. He's feeling selfless today, having sent his maid home after waking up, so he washes them despite his hatred for how dry his palms get after he touches the dish soap. Then he heads back to his room and puts on some clothes, sits back down on his bed, and reaches for his shoes on the floor. His only plan for the day is to think of a plan. How ironic.

But then a notification comes rushing in from his phone, a loud ding, and Kengkla practically falls across the sheets, messing them up again while he reaches for it. His heart races while he puts in his password (Techno's birthday because it was easy enough to remember but apparently too easy) and scrolls down the Line app until he finds the message.

Kengkla has never been one to receive messages from unknown numbers. His conversations were usually with Technic, Techno, and maybe his parents if he has to. Before he met Techno, he would get love messages often from girls, but they began to take the hint that he was uninterested after a while.

So when a message pops up from an unknown number who's not Techno, he almost tosses it across the room. It's only when he reads the actual text that he becomes intrigued.

[Unknown Number]: Hello, Nong Kla. This is P'Dawn. Remember me? I hope I left a good impression because I wanted to let you know that I was thinking of you recently. I thought that we got along well, so I was wondering if you wanted to go see another movie. I will be in town this weekend~

Kengkla takes a deep breath. There's so many emotions washing over him from annoyance to sadness but there's also a hint of smug pleasure. She's reaching out to him, not Techno, which means she's likely over him, or at least trying to get over him. It makes him smile for a second.

Then he stares at the message, feeling his shoulders tighten against sudden stress. He's not sure what to do. Only minutes ago, he was crying and sobbing into the pillow, reality hitting him like a truck after being reprimanded and threatened by Type. It wasn't as if he accepted things - accepted this breakup. He was just taking a break from his thoughts, getting himself and his home organized while he could. It wasn't easy to do either.

But, in fact, he planned to construct some sort of mass apology, thinking that was the only way to get Techno to accept him. Yet now that he's presented with this text. It's surely an opportunity, right? That's what the voice whispers in his head. The voice that has only got him in trouble

Kengkla: yes, of course, p'dawn. i remember. It was nice to meet you.

Kengkla: sure, let's go see a movie then. when were you thinking?

Kengkla can't help himself. He can't ignore the small chance that this interaction with Dawn could get Techno's attention.

...

A/N: Ya'll got one chapter left, and it's a long one. Thank you so much for joining me on this wild ride. I am posting the first chapter of my original BL soon. I hope that you read it, but if you just read this one then I'm glad you at least stuck around.

I'm not a huge fan of TharnType story, but I am DYING that Mark has a cameo. I legit screamed. Even if I am not a fan of the new Techno...or the new Technic. (WTF)