Ngern was indifferent. If there had ever been a time he would have locked himself in a closet in shame, this would have been one such time. But things were different now. Though it was the same boy from Chiang Mai now throwing on a fitted white dress shirt over his chiseled body, there was not even an ounce of regret or shame of being caught plowing into some random girl--who's face he could barely remember--two hours ago, weighing down on his shoulder. What he did feel however, was indifference. A Painful numbness.

He took one last look at his reflection on his wall-length mirror before making his way out of the bedroom and down the stairs to the door. A quick glance at his cellphone screen showed it was well over 5:30 AM, and a series of missed call notifications from his chauffeur clogged the homescreen. He was fifteen minutes behind schedule, and was most likely going to suffer the stiffer side of Friday rush hour traffic because of it. No doubt P'Kim, his manager would be calling soon to scold him for being late to set. Oh well, he was almost always on time; a few days of being fashionably late would not exactly end his career. Still, he dreaded the mini tantrum he could practically smell coming his way.

As if on cue, his phone began to ring. 
"I'll be down in twenty seconds" he answered cooly, before immediately hanging up.  The elevator ride down to the main lobby was a short one, and his quick strides to his waiting chauffeured sedan permitted him to be on his way within a matter of seconds.

As expected, the ride to Kanchanaburi Studios was a complete and utter nightmare.  By the time Ngern stepped out of the all black sedan, onto the Lot, he was already pushing past two hours behind make-up call. He flinched when from a distance he heard P’Heard’s crazed voice as he yelled into his cellphone. Not that the sight was anything new, the director was known to be a pain in the @ss by practically everyone in the industry.  With the successes of the Pirates of Ko Samui films, he seemed to have only grown more belligerent. If he wasn’t screaming at his assistant for his coffee not being to his exact liking, then it was at lighting crew for the shade or type of light bulbs being used, or at the Mic-man for breathing too loudly—or at everyone else in the world for existing. Thankfully, P’Heard was so absorbed in cussing out the other person on his line  to notice Ngern slip through the studio doors.

Every other day, Ngern would have made his morning rounds to the dressing rooms of the other cast members to forward his greetings. It was a tradition P’Kim had implemented when he’d first gotten the role. As an up and comer, it had been essential that his elderly, more famous co-stars had nothing but positive things to say about him. As if turned out as it always did with P’Kim’s advices, she was right. Apparently, in an industry filled with egoistic stars and diva tantrums, being raved about by your co-stars as well as director for being “a humble, respectful ball of talent”—in the words of P’Heard—was just as big a push forward for one’s career as receiving a rave reviews from Lakorn Dissect Mag for his portrayal of Kui. Within twenty four hours of that particular promotional press conference for the first Pirates of Ko Samui where P’Heard, director-a la-pain in the derriere—had gushed about Ngerns work ethic and personality, both on and off camera, the scripts had started pouring in. A deer in a field of lions, everybody wanted the new kid on the block. And the rest, as they say, was history.

Apart from the quick nods and waves he offered to the cast and crew, Ngern didn’t stop moving until he pushed opened his dressing room door and planted himself in the revolving make-up seat. Nat, Few and Karen were all gathered on the other side of the room with the sitting layouts, each focused intently on their phone screen until the dressing door slammed slammed behind him, breaking their concentration.

“Oh, Ngern! You’re finally here! I was just about to call P’Kim to find out what was wrong.” Nat said, immediately tossing her cellphone on the glass table and rushing to him. Few and Karen followed suit. “Come, come. Sit.” She grabbed Ngern and drew him to the styling area, fashioned to look like a high end salon. Nat planted Ngern onto the revolving styling chair directly in front of the curve-mirrored vanity.

“We’re so far behind schedule, and he’s really pissed.” Nat said, running one hand through his hair and using the other to open the drawers of the vanity from which she took out a variety of hair-styling equipment.  At 57 going on 25, Nat, was the head of Wardrobe for the entire cast, but she had taken a peculiar interest in Ngern, and always insisted on personally attending to his suiting-up, rendering Few whose job it had been to ready Ngern, taskless. So instead, Few now busied herself helping Karen organize Ngern’s on-set closet in a bid to keep herself busy. This had not gone unnoticed by the other crew members who had quickly dubbed them “The Lovers of Ko Samui.” Ngern didn’t mind though, if anything, her extra attention to him had only served as an advantage over the years, as right from the beginning, she had ensured that his pirate gear was made of the fine, smooth cotton materials like those of the bigger stars, while the other young cast members had to often endured hives from the hay-like nature of their costumes. Now though, with or without her help he was too big an entity and a selling point for the franchise not to get the premium treatment, but that never stopped Nat from hovering, adorably not too far away. “He went out to make a call or something, apparently some golden chest's where supposed to have been delivered yesterday for today's filming, but they are no where to be found. Last I heard he was spiting fire at the molder outside. A you can imagine, Heard is already in a pretty sh*tty mood, so we need to get you all suited up before he’s done or today will be like hell on this set.”

Ngern simply nodded and smiled as she blabbered on about one thing or another as she tugged his hair every which way before fitting on his extensions and a hand-sewn Indian hair wig; Some blush here, a little contouring there and Ngern’s periodic look was done. Giving his face one more look-over, Nat gave herself a reaffirming nod.

“Hurry, get dressed! Remember, it’s the discovery scene, so don’t forget to wear the pendant.” She called out as her little stubby legs carried her towards, and out of the dressing room door, taking Ngern’s distraction along with her. Few and Karen had already exited earlier, after having laid out his costumes on the couch for easy access. With her departure came a bout of silence. Alone again, Ngern’s inactive mind had not other way to wander but to that which he had been trying all morning to ignore. In the deafening silence, Ngern had no other options but to confront his painful numbness. 

"What is wrong with you?" The question escaped his lips before he even realized he had said the words.  What was wrong with him? What was this feeling? Deep and dark and rooted in the pit of his stomach? An internal vacuum threatening to swallow him whole from the inside out? Why did he feel so... lost? He was there, in his dressing room, but not really. He was--not... He awas not ashamed. He was not sorry that less than five hours ago a boyfriend had walked in on him ontop of his girlfriend. Auggie? Was that what she'd called him? Yes, Auggie. When there had been a noise in the living room she had pushed him off of her and rushed out into the parlour. From the bedroom he had seen a silhouette exiting the cramped apartment. That girl, Aim, she had called out for an Auggie. And then she had returned into the room, laid back down on the bed, then used his hand to feel her softness.  As if nothing had happened. And he had climbed back ontop of her, and entered her, and after minutes of trying to get force himself to c@m, he had given into the inevitable and allowed his mind to wander into it's deepest depths. Into that place where it wasn't her in bed with him. it wasn't her softness he was feeling against his. It wasn't her cherry blossom scented fragrance filling his nostrils. No, instead, it was harsh. The fragrance. It was of harsh spices, and manly. And the thighs he was ing between were not soft and subtle but muscled and firm. And the tongue shoving into his mouth was not from a lipsticked mouth, but one that smelled of nuts and the a prickly after-shaven upper lip. When she had moaned out loud as she ed again it had not been high pitched like before, but deep and guttural. And with that image in mind, he, Ngern had felt his body convulse as his toes dug into the mattress and his head jerked back alarmingly. He had released all his iniquities into the thin wrap-around plastic that was the only thing seperating her body from his, as he gasped for air, his cheeks clenching in complete and absolute fervor. Three minutes later he had been re-dressed in his dark gray sweats and was jogging down the stairs to hail a taxi that would take him back to Haus Nightclub where his car was parked by the back alley.

As if nothing had happened.

But something had happened. Right before his eyes he had witnessed a relationship fall apart because of his recklessness. And to make it worse, he hadn't felt the slightest bit of remorse.  This was not who he'd always been. When did he become the kind of guy to put his interested so high above that of everyone else that it left a gaping hole in conscience? Why had he not stopped? He could have stopped. He could have gathered his clothing from the floor and re-dressed and run out of that apartment like any other person would have in his situation. He should have been mortified. Granted, he had gulped down a few glasses of alcohol before she had lured him out of the club to her apartment, promising him the time of his life, but still, while alcohol could certainly blur the lines between right and wrong, could it also be blamed for his inability to feel--anything? No, he had been too busy trying to prove a point that had already been proven otherwise for years.He, Ngern, no matter how many girls he f@cked, be it in sleazy club bathrooms, grimy back alleys, or the comfort of his bedroom, just could not get there with a v@gina. Not without thinking of a warm rod slapping against his bare skin. Now, that could take him all the way. And though he'd known it all his life, for the first time he thought to accept it. He wondered if he really should have been surprised at all at his decifiency. Of all that he was, and with all that he had, was it not expected that he would have a cross to bear? Was it not?

For the first time, he thought to accept it, there, in the his dressing room, the morning after a drunken f@ck with a cheating girlfriend, and Ngern could do nothing to stop the tears as they rained down his cheeks and onto the beige carpeted floor. 

***

Ngern wasn't sure were he was headed, but he had a tank half filled, and a buldge in his pocket where his debit cards were nestled. Nat had called after him as he ran through the studio lot to the parking where his chauffer sat, playing a game on his smartphone. He hadn't stopped. He couldn't let them see him falling apart like this. What would he say was the matter when they started asking probbing questions? 

"I just accepted to myself, for the first time in twenty-three years, that I'm gay."--Yeah, not likely. He had alot of figuring out to do, and there was just no way he was going to be able to do that here, in the city, with the eyes of the world on his every move. So Ngern had pulled out the ten thousand baht left in his pocket and shoved it at his driver, commanding him to hand over the car keys and take a taxi home, and thanked God that the young man had done so swiftly, without further questioning. He had to go somewhere safe from prying eyes. Not his apartment, P'Kim would no doubt  already have gotten a call from the production team by now. she knew his access code and would probably already be on her way to it at that moment. He needed to go somewhere far away. Somewhere enclosed. Even if only for a day, he had to disappear and allow his soul to wallow in self-pity. He owed himself that much.God, or Buddha, or Krishna, or Allah, or all of them combine, owed him that much, for this misfortune they had bestowed upon him. Mother nature owed him that much for birthing him, drenched in a---

Screech!!! He slammed his foot onto the break, but it was too late. He not so much saw, but heard the collision. Metal against flesh. A sickening thud! A soft cry and, then the world went quiet. Daring one eye open, then the other, Ngern saw a slim-fit frame in a white crew new Tee, and black jeans struggling to stand up. He himself was in a bad shape as he had not had his seat belt fastened around him. When the car jerked forward, so had he, right into the upper end of the steel-hard steering wheel. Ignoring the pain that was now shooting through his skull, Ngern  pushed opened his car door, and stumbled outside, still trying to make better sense of what had just happened. 

The other figure, clearly male, kept trying to get up, but would writhe in pain and fall back down onto the dirt floor. 

"No... Don't move." Ngern managed, lurching to his side. The boy's body shook in pain as he whimpered, his head hanging low. "Don't try too hard to move it, the bone might be broken. Just calm down, breathe." Truthfully, Ngern himself was panicking, as he recited a portion of a dialogue from a lakorn he'd done two years ago. His character had been a football enthusiast that had broken his leg on the field. Somehow, instinctively that was the first thing that had come to mind at that moment.  He patted around his trousers in search of his cell, to no avail.The vanity, that's the last place he had kept it, and most likely where it still was now.

Great, I would leave my phone behind when I need it most.

 The rush hour traffic of the early morning had all but cleared up, and besides, he had already driven well into the outskirts of the Bangkok.  Apart from a few parked vehicles and pedestrains walking both ways, the streets were practically void of activity. It wasn't long before Ngern realized two of the pedestrians on the side walk had stopped, starring in his direction. For the briefest moment, he felt a sense of relief, surely one of them would possess a phone that he could use to get in contact with an ambulance. But then it dawned on him why that wasn't such a good idea. He was Ngern Anupart. Thai star.  If anything, he needed to distance himself from the pedestrains, not run to them. It took a lifetime to build an image, and a second to watch it all burn to the ground. Ngern had been in the industry long enough to know this. The last thing he needed was to pull a crowd. The technological advances of the 21th century had ensure that one-sided evidence could be just as damning to a situation as it was helpful. If a video of him ended up on the internet, face visibly bloated, eyes red, the first assumptions would mostlikely not be in his favor. Heaven knows what stories the blogs would fabricate as the cause of the accident. An image of his face plastered on the daily newspaper with headlines reading "NGERN ANUNPART DRUNK DRIVING SCANDAL", flashed so tangibly before his eyes that he was almost certain it was really there.

Dammit! 

"Remember what I said before about not moving?" He said, wrapping his muscular arms around those of the whimpering boy. "Disregard it. We need to get out of here as soon as possible."

"No... No, I'm okay." The boy managed, and for the second time that late morning hour, Ngern felt a strong pang of nostalgia hit him straight in the chest. Even though he hadn't seen the boys face, he knew the voice. He had spent years listening to that voice. A voice he had on more than one occassion caught himself reveling in every octave, and rise and fall of its toneage. The voice of--

"Gust?" The boy's head finally jerked upwards, and the look of complete astonishment as his slanty dark brown eyes, squinting against the sun, met Ngern's, left no further room for questioning as the realization of whom his assailant was came rushing to mind. It was him. An old friend, a former confidante. An old crush, a lingering liking. The boy with the twinkling mischevious eyes like just brewed dark chocolate. His rosebud lips parted as if to say something, but words seemed to fail him. If he had been in pain before, all traces of it had been numbed by the pressence of Ngern, and as they cowered side by side, with Ngern's hands around his, the superstar couldn't help the drumming of his heart as his eyes dug into those of his former co-star's. All of a sudden Ngern felt like the sun hovered right over his head, as he started perspering profusely. The heat ran  from his supporting arm to his heart, brain and spine. 

So not the time for a fairytale moment. Ngern mentally chastised himself as he pulled away from August. And just as quickly as it had stopped, the boys whimpering came back as if the broken contact between the two had somehow re-opened the flood gates of pain he had been feeling earlier. And as inapportiate a timing as Ngern realized it was, given the present circumstances, he couldn't help but notice how the sun rays danced off August's white t-shirt, and seemingly illuminating the golden highlights of his cropped side-banks. Ngern once again was in awe, like he had been the first time he had laid eyes on the lanky-tall boy, five years ago. God, was he beautiful.