( THE COLLEGE ———— NOW SEMESTER ———— MORNING )

.........

Lucas Wattanachai burst through the doors of his college, weaving through the noisy crowd. Laughter, teasing, and the warm buzz of student life surrounded him. Couples strolled hand-in-hand, straight, gay, and lesbian, sharing quick kisses before class.

Lucas's heart raced, not just from sprinting, but from anticipation. He scanned the cafeteria until he found the person he wanted most.

King, his boyfriend, sitting at their usual table. Lucas's face lit up, then dimmed when he noticed someone else beside him, talking cheerfully with his boyfriend.

"Who is that?" he muttered.

Lucas's heart raced, not just from sprinting more. Lucas swallowed, forcing his voice steady and fake smile as he approached, "Hey."

"Oh, you arrived?" King's bright smile felt... brighter than usual.

Lucas sat, palms slightly damp, eyes drifting to the unfamiliar boy beside King, and asked, trying to sound casual, "Who's this?"

"This is Jay," King said cheerfully. "He moved near my house a month ago."

A month, and this was the first Lucas was hearing about him. He blinked, asking, "Oh, this is my first time hearing... why... didn't you tell me?"

The king shrugged lightly, the gesture careless. "Didn't feel important."

A silence, a hurtful silence. lucas's chest tightened in a way he couldn't explain. Jay offered a friendly smile.

"Hi, I'm Jay. I just joined the college."

"I'm Lucas Wattanachai, everyone calls me Luca," he replied, forcing a polite smile.

Before Jay could answer, King suddenly stood up. "Oh! I was just about to give Jay a tour. Let's go."

Lucas started to rise, instinctively wanting to join, but King's hand pressed gently, firmly, onto his shoulder. "No, Lucas. You should go to class. We'll catch up later."

"It's fine." The words were soft but final.

Lucas watched them walk away together, King laughing, Jay listening with interest, while Nan sat alone at the table that suddenly felt too big, too empty, and too cold.

...****************...

...( CLASSROOM ————— LATER )...

As the professor took his class, Lucas couldn't shake off the feeling of unease. Sam and Wann kept glancing at Lucas, whispering urgently.

"Luca... what's wrong?" Sam asked.

Lucas shook his head, staring blankly at his notebook. "Nothing. I'm fine."

"Is it King again?" Sam pressed gently.

Lucas's breath stuttered. "Maybe."

Wann expression changed to one of irritation at the mention of King's name. He whispered to Sam, "For some reason, that bastard gets on my nerves."

"Same here," Sam replied with a knowing nod.

Lucas, catching the exchange, couldn't help but smile faintly. "Oh, come on, you two. King isn't that bad."

"Not that bad? That guy walks around like he owns the place," Wann whispered. "And don't forget how he always tries to one-up us," Sam added.

Lucas forced a laugh. "You guys are being dramatic. He's really sweet once you get to know him."

Neither of his friends bought it. They didn't push him further, but the way they exchanged glances told Lucas everything — that they were worried, and it made the ache in his chest worse.

FIRST MEETING ( AFTER THE COLLEGE ———— ON THE WAY TO HIS HOME )

.........

Lucas was walking back home on the road. After spending time with friends his mind gets a little fresh, his eyes fixed on his phone; hr had texted the king, 'Reached home?' but has not yet received a reply.

He looked at the surroundings...the soft hues of the sitting sun pointed the sky in shades of orange and pink, casting long shadows on the pavement. But as he walked through his familiar street, a sudden screen pierced.

......"H-help... help..."......

His heart pounded as he followed the desperate voice, his phone still clutched in his hand. He turned a corner and sowed a group of men in black suits. One of them, a stall finger, was holding a gun. The man's face was obscured by the intense light of the setting sun. His heart pounded as he followed the desperate voice and instinctively hid himself, his breath quickening.

"WHA...WHAT... What's happening here!?" he muttered to himself in shock and fear.

Instinctively, Lucas opened his phone's camera and began recording.

The man on the ground was pending, his voice trembling with fear. "PL... PLEASE, let me go."

The man bent down slightly, his voice cold, "WHY SHOULD I ?"

Without hesitation, he pulled the trigger, and...

...THUMP!!!...

The men collapsed like a puppet whose strings were cut…

Lucas's gasp was loud, too loud, as he stumbled backward, falling to the ground in terror, dirt scraping his palms.

...THUD!!! SLAM!!!...

The noise caught the tall man's attention, and he turned towards the sound, his face now illuminated.

...Kittisak Rattanakour...

He was strikingly handsome and had a striking physique, but his eyes were dark, unblinking, and menacing.

Keit approached with a predator's grace, his gaze locked on Lucas, and the world felt silent for a few seconds.

.......

.......

.......

.......

But panic surged through Lucas, and he scrambled to his feet, turning to run. As he fled, he heard a voice behind him, another man asking, "Boss, should we catch him ?"

Keit's response was calm and measured as he said, "No ... Just keep an eye on him."

He glanced back at the lifeless body on the ground and added, "...and clean things up here."

..." Yes, Boss."...

Lucas ran; he didn't think, he just ran. His legs moved faster than they ever had, pounding against the pavement as if the ground itself were trying to swallow him. His lungs burned, his throat scraped with every gasp, and his heartbeat thundered so loudly it drowned out everything else.

He didn't dare look back; he couldn't, because if he did, if he even glanced over his shoulder, he was terrified he'd see that man behind him, walking calmly, the way monsters do when they know their prey can't outrun fate.

Lucas's vision blurred as he tore through the streets of his small town. Houses, streetlights, shadows — everything smeared together into a dizzying mess. His mind replayed the scene in violent flashes:

The gun, the begging man, the soft suppressed gunshot, the body dropping, and those eyes — cold, steady, unbothered.

Lucas's stomach churned as he gasped to himself as he sprinted, "What do I do...? What do I do...?"

...****************...

...FEAR AND FEAR BY FIRST MEETING ...

.........

His house finally came into view ———— home,

safety, and warmth. He pushed himself harder, hearing tripping over the last step as he threw open the front door.

His mother turned from the kitchen, smiling gently, "Lucas, sweetheart you're home ea————"

Lucas didn’t stop long enough to hear the rest. He raced past her, past his father on the couch, past his younger sister sprawled with a snack, and straight to his room.

His shaking fingers fumbled the latch until it clicked locked. Only then did he collapse.

But his phone was still recording. With trembling hands, he ended the voice and immediately wished he hadn’t. The thumbnail alone made the bile rise in his throat.

Meanwhile downstairs, his family’s voices come up.

"What happened to him?" his father mumbled, folding back the newspaper he was reading.

"He looked so pale..." his mother said.

"Did you do something, Nina?" his father asked his younger one.

"No! I don’t even know what happened! Maybe he had a fight with his boyfriend again," Nina said, scrolling his feed.

Meanwhile, inside his room, Lucas slid down the door until he was sitting on the floor, knees pulled to his chest.

"What... what was that?" he whispered, his voice barely audible. "Was that real? That can’t be real..."

But it was; the image displayed — sharp, merciless — in the darkness behind his eyes: the tall figure, the steady hand, the gun, the blood, and the corpse. And the worst part — the moment the man turned toward him, like a hunter noticing a trembling rabbit.

Lucas's hands shook violently; he grabbed his phone and dialed the only person he thought he could cling to — King.

...RING . RING . RING ....

"The number you are trying to reach is — —"

Lucas's breath fractured, "Please... King... answer... I need you..." he whispered, desperation cracking through every word.

He felt the walls closing in — tight, suffocating, and merciless. He felt alone, small, and hunted.

"What do I do?" he whispered again, pacing, hair clutched in his fists.

...KNOCK! KNOCK!...

"Luca? Are you okay?" his father called, voice thick with worry.

His mother followed, panic creeping into every syllable, "Sweetheart, did something happen? Did you fight with someone? Please open the door. Talk to us."

Lucas pressed a shaking hand over his mouth, trying to stifle the sob that clawed its way up his throat.

He wanted to tell them, he wanted to scream, and he wanted to collapse into their arms and rely on them to protect him, but—

"What if they come for Mom? what if they come for Dad? what if ... what if they hurt Nina? what if I ruin everything??"

His voice broke into silence.

"Luca... Please let us in,"

Lucas squeezed his eyes shut, just one breath and then another, then he finally choked out,

..."I'm fine, just... give me a minute."...

"You don't sound fine," his mother said through the door.

He wasn't; he was anything but fine; he was unraveling. Lucas gaze drifted to the phone — the recording of the murder — like a cursed mirror.

......................