Kengkla is panicking by the time he manages to leave the hotel.

He's been panicking for a while, to be honest. It's important to stay calm, to keep his head, to at least give the appearance of composure when his uncle shows up to change out the tire. But his mind reiterating the importance of holding himself together is having little to no effect on the rattle of his heart fluttering in his chest and the knot of anguish twisting itself into his throat. He plays it off when he speaks to his uncle, tells him that he just needs the tire changed, doesn't offer any other explanation. His uncle doesn't ask either.

Once the tire is changed and his uncle gone, Kengkla realizes it's been two hours since Techno left. But there's nothing he can do right now except drive. He doesn't even try to text the other right now, knows it will be a waste. If Techno hasn't blocked him already, he's surely put him on mute.

His hands tremble against the wheel of the vehicle as his mind wanders, but Kengkla's wide awake while he drives home. It's silent in the vehicle besides the hum of the engine, and he reaches over to flip on the stereo. Loud rock music plays, and he grimaces, turning it down. He remembers it's the channel Techno selected, and he can feel his cheeks flushing hot with the threat of emotion, can feel his breathing rasping towards a sob.

He almost starts crying, actually brings a hand up to bite his fist, when his phone starts ringing. His eyes widen It's hooked up by Bluetooth to his car, so he presses a button on the wheel to answer. Thinking it's Techno, by some miracle, he clears his throat to rid emotion from his voice before saying, "Hello?"

"Ai' Kla, what the hell did you do?" Technic asks in a shocked yet annoyed tone.

Kengkla almost hangs up on him before realizing this means Technic knows that Techno knows. "P'No knows everything," He says simply.

Techni huffs. "Yeah, I know. He just got home. He was angrier than I've ever seen him before, Ai' Kla."

"Explain," Kengkla demands. He doesn't feel like pretending to be nice.

"He just got here a bit ago." Kengkla wonders silently why Technic took so long to call him. "P'No grabbed a ton of his stuff, put it in bags, and told me that he's moving out. He even told our parents. I think they were almost happy for him. But I didn't know why at first until we were alone. Then he forced me to take out my phone - P'No has never been this mad at me. Usually, if he's annoyed, he'll yell at me or something. He hardly said a word. Then he slapped me in the face"

He knows what Technic means because he just felt it first-hand, but he doesn't comment on the fact that he was slapped too. "I know."

Technic scoffs. "You don't understand, Ai' Kla. He slapped me! He told me he's moving out! Then he forced me to admit to helping you! You're the one who-"

Kengkla doesn't really care about Techni's feelings. "Ai' Nic, where is he now?"

"Wait, Ai' idiot," Technic snaps. "I didn't even tell you the worst part. Well, the worst part for me. He started crying when I admitted it. I kept apologizing, but P'No just told me to go abroad and study. I joked about it last week, but now he's forcing me. He said he'd tell my parents what happened if I don't go. I have to leave right after we finish school because they're on a different schedule. What the fuck? I don't want to go abroad."

He's only slightly concerned for Technic, doesn't really care if the other goes abroad. Techno is his main priority. But Technic can be useful and a small part of Kengkla considers him his friend. "What?" is what Kengkla says instead of something useful, still partially in disbelief.

Technic sighs. "Yeah, I was shocked too. Shit, Ai' Kla. We shouldn't have - you shouldn't have done that to him." Then Technic falls silent for a moment while Kengkla drives, trying to resist the urge to pull over and panic. Instead, Kengkla tries to concentrate on the car in front of him, watching for brake lights and traffic when Technic starts again. "I think I have to go."

Kengkla raises a brow even though Technic can't see him then glances at his dashboard, looking to see if Technic hung up already. He's still on the line. "Have to go? Go abroad? Hang up? Ai' Nic, I'm not done talking yet. What else did P'No say?" His voice is getting a bit frantic, can feel it in his throat.

"Both," Technic answers quietly. "P'No was serious. I could tell. I've never seen him like this, and I feel like an asshole about this whole thing. Maybe I should go abroad...Fuck, I hate the universities around here anyway. My English is decent. I'll have to leave soon though- anyway, don't come over. Just go home, Ai' Kla. P'No told me to warn you."

"What?" Kengkla repeats. He didn't have a plan to resolve things with Techno, but his first idea was to chase after him, try to explain things, even if he had no idea what he'd say.

There's shuffling instead of an answer, sounds like Technic is walking around, and Kengkla presses the volume up louder on his wheel. "I think P'No is in the hallway. If he knows I'm talking to you, I don't think I'll live to get on a plane," Technic whispers.

Then, faintly in the background, Techno calls, "Ai' Nic?" so loud that Kengkla can hear him. Kengkla's heart hammers in his chest, pounding like it's begging to break free. "Hand him the phone," He commands Technic.

"Sorry, I can't. I have to go," Technic tells him, but he sounds regretful, almost like he feels sincerely sorry. "Don't come over, Ai' idiot. Seriously. P'No said he will call the cops."

"What? Wait-" Kengkla tries. But his only answer is a dial tone, and his instincts take over in a fit of anger, fists slamming against the steering wheel. Letting out a loud, annoyed noise, Kengkla gives in to the anger and resentment flowing through his veins. He can barely concentrate on driving, switching lanes so he can drive slower while his mind tries to process everything.

Techno knows everything. Techno slapped Kengkla, left him at the hotel alone, and went home on a bus at night. He's forcing his own brother to leave Thailand with blackmail and threatening Kengkla if he dares to show up. It doesn't sound like Techno at all. This is what Kengkla has done to him. He's broke him.

There's a pressure against the inside of his chest, an odd tinge of a feeling he recognizes as guilt. He reaches for the stereo and turns the rock music back up to drown out his thoughts. When his vision blurs and cheeks burn with tears throughout the rest of his drive, Kengkla doesn't acknowledge it.

....

He takes a deep breath. This is reckless, Kengkla thinks to himself while he sits in his car, staring out the window at Type's house across the street. He's been waiting around five minutes, deciding what to do. Last night, he didn't go to Techno's as he planned but instead went home, feeling threatened by Techno's uncharacteristic behavior. Instead, he called Techno over and over, texting and begging for him to listen. There was no answer.

It was weak. Kengkla knew. But he was convinced Techno hasn't completely given up on him. Kengkla just needed some time to speak with him, right? This thought was the only thought that kept Kengkla from breaking down.

So Kengkla decided to approach Techno on different terf, could use that against the other if Techno wanted to threaten him again. Techno did say he would call if Kengkla showed up at his home, not Type's home. Kengkla's not even sure Techno is there, not after the other turned off the GPS app. He must have figured it out, Kengkla assumes. But Technic said Techno is moving out, and there's no way he found somewhere else to stay already.

Before exiting the vehicle, Kengkla takes in another breath and relaxes his expression to show no sign of the ache in his heart beneath his shirt. Then he steps out, closing the door behind him, and walks across the street toward the building converted into apartments. Once he reaches the stairs that lead to Type's front door, Kengkla realizes it may be best if Type answers first so his façade of composure will fool him into fetching Techno. He has no doubt Techno will try to slam the door in his face.

Stopping in front of the apartment, he considers turning around and leaving. Kengkla still isn't sure Techno won't call the cops if he shows up. He wasn't acting like himself when he left the hotel room, and according to Technic, it got worse at home. And Type might know by now, so Kengkla could be walking into a fight he can't win.

Kengkla's hands tremble when he finally knocks on the door, and his whole body fills with the adrenaline of renewed panic. It only gets worse as he waits for someone to answer. After a few seconds, he reaches out to knock again when the door opens to reveal Type in his football tracksuit, clearly on his way out. His leg isn't wrapped up anymore nor in a cast, but he's clearly still suffering from the way he places a hand on the door handle to shift his weight.

"What are you doing here?" Type snaps.

Kengkla puts on a fake smile. "Swadee, P'Type. I'm looking for P'No. He wasn't answering my calls or texts, and Ai' Nic said he's not home. I was worried. Have you seen him?" He asks Type, glancing past him to view inside. But there's nothing besides a dark hallway.

When he glances back Type is staring after him, forehead still creased and mouth turned into a frown. "No, Ai' No is not here," He tells Kengkla."He's answering my texts and calls but not yours. I thought you two were weirdly close. Doesn't that sound strange?"

Kengkla can see threat setting itself at Ttype's jaw, can hear the almost-there sarcasm in his voice. Yet, he doesn't back down. "I'm glad he's okay then. I'm not sure why P'No isn't answering. That's why I wanted to reach out and see what's wrong."

Type rolls his eyes. "He told me."

His heart starts pounding so hard that it's practically in his throat. "I can explain," Kengkla says, so suddenly there's no attempt he can make at a casual tone, no chance to strip the rush of panic of the sound of his voice.

"He told me you took him to an interview then came home," Type continues, sounding far less angry than he ought to if he knows. "Then he called me all upset about something - wouldn't say what. Next thing I know, Ai' idiot is packing up all his shit and moving in with me. What the hell happened at the interview?"

Kengkla shrugs as if he wasn't just panicking two seconds ago, as if his heart is calm when it's still thundering in his ears. "P'No seemed okay the last I saw him," He lies. "Did he say anything else?"

"Seemed okay," Type repeats, scoffing harshly over the word. "Why don't I believe you?"

"What do you mean, P' Type?" Kengkla asks, playing dumb with perfect calm in his tone and gets another glare for his trouble.

Type crosses his arms over his chest, squinting at Kengkla. "Something about you, Ai' Kla, makes me think you're lying. I don't believe a word you say."

Kengkla can feel his fingers drawing into fists at his sides, anger curling up his spine, and he shoves them in his jeans pockets to hide it. "P'No, I don't understand. I'm just looking for P'No to make sure he's okay," He tries.

"I thought you said he seemed okay when you left?"

"But P'No isn't answering my calls...or my texts/"

"Maybe Ai' No doesn't want to talk to you," Type argues, not relenting, and Kengkla realizes this is going nowhere.

"I don't care if you think I'm lying, P'Type," Kengkla says, tasting the truth on his tongue. "I'm just trying to reach P'No. Are you going to meet him now? Maybe I could - "

"No," Type snaps, his voice regaining some of the heat from earlier. "Don't show up at practice. In fact, don't show up here ever again unless Ai' No invites you." He unfolds his arms and points his finger practically in Kengkla's face." I don't believe you, and I definitely don't trust you, Ai' Kla."

There's a hotter, dangerous flicker of anger in Kengkla's chest, mixed with confusion and embarrassment. "I understand, P'Type," He says, harsher than he intended and bows to him. When Kengkla looks back up, their eyes meet for a moment. Kengkla's glare catches against the other's startled gaze. Then Type blinks, a single moment of surprise flickering away so fast Kengkla barely has time to see it at all. "I'll be going now."

Type's still frowning when he takes a step back into the doorway, holding it open with one arm. "I'm serious, Ai' Kla. I don't want to see you here again," he warns.

"Unless P'No invites me, right?" Kengkla mocks with a smirk clinging to his lips, speaking fast and turning faster to avoid any possible physical retaliation. But he can't resist looking over his shoulder when he reaches the bottom of the stairs to catch a glimpse of the other. Type is still holding the door open, confusion marking a line between his eyebrows while his lips remain in a frown.

He expects Type to say something, but the other just shakes his head and slams the door shut. It's not until after a few seconds that Kengkla concludes that Type is not coming back out and turns back to the street. When he reaches the car and goes to open the door, Kengkla realizes his hand is still shaking, body still thrumming with a hurricane of anger and panic.

"Fuck P'Type," Kengkla says to himself, like he's calm, like he doesn't care, like his heart isn't going so fast in his chest he can't tell if it's tears or fury knotting in his throat.

Then he gets into the car.

....

A/N: It's gonna be sad for a bit.

Appreciate it so much.