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Arthit has a secret. He has it shut up inside of himself and there is a lock, but no key. Even Arthit himself doesn't have a key.
"Mae," he asked one day. "If someone has a box inside of them, where could they start looking for the key?" It wasn't the most subtle approach but Arthit had grown impatient. He had tested and tried both the lock and the box and he wasn't getting anywhere. Arthit knew he needed it but he couldn't get inside.
"Oon," his mother said. "You must leave that box along. Some things should not be opened." Arthit should feel a little shame for how easily his mother saw through him but he finds it hard to care over his rising anger.
"You know about it?" Arthit keeps his voice steady. He doesn't think he has ever talked to his mother so harshly. "I know there is something important inside there and you're telling me to just leave it alone?"
"Oon, do not talk to me like that," his mother warned and Arthit fell silent because he knew she was right. If his mother already knew and had not told Arthit, then sharp words would not help her to change her mind.
"I apologise," he said stiffly. A second later, he went inside himself and gave the box a pat. It was his box to do what he pleased with it and he could not leave it alone. His mother sighed, perhaps seeing the resolution on his face.
"Oh, Oon." She pat his cheek gently, affectionately. "The box is to keep all of you safe, both inside and out. It was to save you and I thank the one who created the box each and every day." Something flickered behind her eyes, a kind of unbearable sadness, and she gave Arthit another pat on his cheek before turning away. She moved around the kitchen in familiar moves to get supper ready but Arthit saw her hand dart up and swipe underneath her eyes. If he hadn't been looking, he wouldn't have noticed.
They ate supper together, his parents and him, without any more discussion about the box inside of Arthit. That night, before he went to sleep, he closed his eyes and slipped inside himself. The box was there, a comforting sight to him.
"You are keeping the secret safe," Arthit said to the box. There was no sound or movement in reply but Arthit felt like something was agreeing with him. "Keeping the secret inside there keeps the it and me safe." More agreement. "And what if safety isn't my goal?" Arthit wasn't the kind of person who did things just for the thrill of danger but having a secret inside of him, that was about him, and not knowing what it was -- that was different. Arthit had to know himself, even if he might regret it later.
There was no more agreement from the box but Arthit expected that. The secret was part of him he knew, but the box both was and wasn't. It felt familiar to him but it wasn't him. It was keeping the part of him inside it safe and secure, so Arthit trusted it.
Over the days that followed, Arthit left the box alone but tried to find out why such a box would be needed. He went to work, he saw old uni friends and he ate with his parents every night, but in his free time, he kept on researching.
"Oon, please leave this alone," his mother pleaded with him one day when she found him sitting on the back stairs with a book from the library on mental abilities. "I know you want to know, I do, but it's not safe for you."
"I'm sorry," Arthit said softly. "I can't." He stared at the garden his father had carefully cultivated when he wasn't working. He didn't enjoy his job that much but he loved his garden. "Mae, there's a part of me inside that box. I might not know what it is but I know something's missing. It feels like I'm lopsided but I look down and everything is intact." His mother's hands clenched on the laundry basket.
"You never said."
"I didn't know why I felt like that," Arthit replied. "I hadn't connected the feeling with the box but now that I have, I can't keep going through life feeling like I'm missing an arm. Figuratively." He hated to worry his mother like this but he needed her to understand why he wouldn't stop. He hadn't refused his parents anything in the past and they, in return, had let him choose his own path. But now his mother knew something about him that he didn't and it had put them at odds for what felt like the first time.
"Arthit." He turned to look at his mother, instantly caught by the use of his given name. "The reason why you have the box is that a curse was placed on the part of you inside. The box keeps that part safe and stops the curse from progressing. That is why you can't know the secret, not yet." Arthit reeled with this new information. He stood up properly and turned to face his mother.
"And that's it? I just go through life with part of me missing and it's all fine as long as this curse doesn't move along? Why is no one doing anything to break the curse?"
"He's trying!" his mother said, her eyes bright with tears. As soon as the words came out of her mouth, she bit her lip as if she could pull them back in. She carefully put the laundry basket on the ground.
"Who's trying?" Arthit said, knowing he wasn't being fair but so frustrated with the need to know. "Por? Someone else?" His mother took a breath and then another one.
"The one who made your box is trying to break the curse," she said slowly, obviously turning over every word. "The only way to try and break the curse is to open the box and let it loose before attempting to break it. We all want him to be sure of the cure before he tries anything." Arthit nodded slowly as he tried to reconcile what his mother had just said with everything he knew.
"But who is he?" The box was shaking inside Arthit's mind and maybe it should be a warning sign but Arthit couldn't help but push. "Do I know him?"
"I can't tell you, Oon! It risks breaking your box and we can't do that until we are sure the curse is gone." His mother looked so distressed now, wringing her hands in anxiety. "Please, Oon."
"Okay," Arthit said and forced his shoulders to relax. "I won't push, Mae. Thank you for telling me that." Arthit took a deep breath, in and out, and the box inside him stopped shaking. "Is he close?"
"Getting closer everyday," his mother said in more of her usual optimistic fashion. Arthit noted that wasn't actually an answer but he wouldn't push this. Not again. As long as he knew this was temporary for him, he could deal with it. If he knew why this was happening, he could handle the fact that he felt like he was missing a limb.
He stopped researching because he didn't know what would risk the box in his mind or what kind of curse he would be looking for. He wondered if his mother and father knew or whether they were happy to leave it in the hands of the mysterious man who had made the box inside of Arthit. But even though he stopped researching, he still visited the box every day. It never changed but Arthit felt like he had to check it was still there. Yes, it was keeping part of Arthit from him but it was also keeping part of him safe. Maybe that would be enough.
Several days later, he was walking down the street to Bright's bar. It had been some time since he had seen all his friends at once and Arthit was looking forward to it, to being able to goof off like he did with no one else. He loved his parents and he tolerated his job but he wanted to relax and not have to think about anything for a while. The door was in sight and Arthit quickened his stride, when someone called his name. Instinctively he turned, though he didn't recognise the young woman running towards him. She looked at him like she knew him and he felt his stomach lurch, as if he had just missed a stair.
"P'Arthit!" The woman jogged over to him. Her smile was bright, if a little hesitant. She put her hands together and gave him a wai. "It's been a while since I've seen you. How have you been?" There was no chance of Arthit admitting that he had forgotten her now.
"I've been doing well, thank you." He gave her a polite smile and hoped she wasn't someone he was really friendly with. More likely, she was one of his juniors and they had a conversation which stuck with her a lot longer than it had with Arthit. "And you?"
"I got the job I wanted and it's right here in Bangkok." The woman beamed at him. "I said I would thank you and P'Kongpob next time I saw you. How is P'Kongpob by the way?"
Arthit's head started to ring, like a siren of pain that had started ever since he had heard the name. He stared at the woman until her smile faded. Try as he might, he couldn't turn his mind away from that name and figuring out who it could be. Kongpob. Kongpob. Kongpob. There was a rattling sound in his mind and he knew the box was shaking apart. This was the key and Arthit couldn't stop it from reaching the box.
There were shouts around him and Arthit recognised the voices at the same time as he realised he was on the floor. The pain was sounding through him, like on a wave, and Arthit was fighting against it, trying to stop whatever it was from happening. Hands were grabbing him and pulling him upright, even though his head screamed at him to stay horizontal.
"Sorry, Arthit," someone said and then Arthit was sinking into painful blackness.
Things faded in and out after that, as Arthit was jostled and then left alone, as people talked around him or were silent. His head continued to hurt but it was more distant, as Arthit retreated into himself and let everything go quiet.
He was on the floor of his parents' sitting room and there was someone kneeling over him. The man had a worried look on his face and there was something achingly familiar about him. Arthit opened his mouth to say something, anything, but everything blurred around him and he fell back into himself.
Then he was inside himself again, in front of the box that had become so familiar. It was damaged now, cracks appearing all over its surface and the padlock appearing worn and tarnished. There was someone standing next to him, which was strange.
"Are you going to fix it?" he asked the man beside him. The man was handsome, with eyes that looked at Arthit like he was important and lips that should be smiling. He resembled the man who had been kneeling over Arthit in the real world. Arthit didn't know the man's name but he felt the same as the box.
"No," he said. "I'm going to break it." Then he stepped forward, took the padlock in one hand and tore it off the box. The lid sprang open and Arthit gasped as memories started to flood the space around him, resembling one of Prem's camera reels. He caught glimpses of the man beside him, along with several people he hadn't seen before. Sometimes he would catch sight of those he did recognise, his parents or his friends, but they were usually accompanied by the man beside him. Arthit wanted to reach out and touch them, to watch each scene over and over again.
Along with the memories, there was something sticky that clung to them all. It was that kind of pale yellow that reminded him of vomit and illness, of unhealthiness and despair. It was moving down the reels, slowly taking them over bit by bit.
"No," Arthit said, not wanting the colour anywhere near such a precious part of him.
"It's okay, P'Arthit," the man said. "I know how to get rid of it." And he stepped forward to touch the reels of memories, making them glow and turn silvery at the edges. The yellow colour grew paler and paler, until it vanished completely, bit by bit.
"What are you doing?" Arthit asked as he watched a particularly thick part of yellow literally fall off the film reel and vanish before it hit the floor.
"I'm strengthening your memories so the curse can't eat away at them," the man said. He looked relieved and pleased with himself and Arthit somehow had the inkling that normally he would be crushing the man's ego. Right now however, he felt like the man deserved the win.
"And that worked to destroy the curse?" Arthit watched the last bit of yellow vanish. The box was still there but open and empty, all of Arthit's secrets hanging around the two of them as if waiting for something. The man looked at the moving pictures with a smile on his face. It was smaller than it should be but Arthit liked to see it on him all the same.
"I was too busy trying to destroy the curse before it hurt you too badly," the man said. "When I really should have been protecting you."
"Stupid," Arthit said, the word falling out of him without conscious thought. "What do you think the box was doing?" The man gave him a bright smile but he only allowed himself a second to enjoy it, before he turned back to the waiting reels. "Can I touch them now?"
"Yes," the man said. "They're your memories, they should integrate back in as smoothly as possible." Arthit had been stretching a hand out to touch the film reels but drew it back again.
"Should?" he asked and the man hesitated.
"There was a chance, when I put these memories and emotions inside the box, that they would never fully integrate again. They might get jumbled inside your head and you won't be able to access them, not like before." Arthit looked at the memories around him, the moving pictures on each one showing him glimpses of what each memory contained.
"These are my memories of you," Arthit said slowly. He looked between each one as a thought started to form in the back of his mind.
"Yes," the man said.
"You are important to me," Arthit said, looking at the reams and reams of memories that surrounded him. Without these memories, he had walked around feeling like he had left part of himself behind. It wasn't just the fact that the man was important to him, though Arthit didn't doubt that, it was also how these memories connected to a deeper part of himself. Arthit was a whole person but he didn't remember how he came to be the man he was without these memories. The emotions stored within them. "What's your name?"
"Kongpob Suthiluck," the man answered.
"Kongpob," Arthit said and the name curled in his mouth, like his tongue and lips had made those shapes many times before. It was new and familiar at the same time. "If I don't remember as I should, promise me you won't leave." He turned to look at Kongpob, only to find him staring at Arthit. "What?"
"If you don't remember me, then why would you want me to stay around?" Kongpob asked. He had looked confident and collected, if sad, through this whole conversation. Now, however, his eyes were wide and he looked impossibly young, like he just wanted Arthit to tell him everything would be okay.
"Even when everything was inside this box, I knew you were important to me," Arthit said. "I missed you even before I knew what I was missing." His cheeks burned but the words continued to come. "You made me forget you and then stayed away, all to try and save what remained of my mind. I don't want you gone, Kongpob, even if I don't remember why." Kongpob was crying now, tears skidding down his tan cheeks in shining trails. "Promise me, Kongpob. You won't leave even if I don't remember."
"I promise, P'Arthit," Kongpob said and Arthit stuck his hand through the nearest film reel and everything went white.
Arthit's head was pounding like someone had a drill applied directly to his forehead. He moaned in pain and put his hand up to his head as if that would do anything to help. There were voices calling his name and he scrunched up his nose at the noise. Someone shushed the voices and Arthit felt his face relax.
"Oon, sweetheart, can you open your eyes for me?" his mother's voice was like a cool balm and now the noise had stopped, Arthit found it easier to obey her. He blinked his eyes open to see his mother's dark brown eyes and loving smile. "Well done, Oon."
It took Arthit a few moments for him to sort through everything, like why he was on the sitting room floor and why his mother and his friends were gathered around him. There had been the girl from his old university, the taxi ride and then they had gone inside him and broken open the box of secrets.
"Kongpob!" He sat up suddenly, startling his mother and almost hitting Bright as his friend knelt down to check on him.
"Ai"Arthit!" Bright complained but Arthit ignored him completely. He was too busy scanning the people around him, his eyes narrowing as he couldn't find the person he was looking for.
"Who said he would ask for N'Kongpob as soon as he woke up?" Tutah said in a quiet voice which Arthit knew he wasn't meant to hear so he ignored him.
"Kongpob." Arthit found his target, hovering by the door frame. "The promise you just made. Do you remember that?"
"P'Arthit." Kongpob came forward, his face pale and his hands trembling, though it wouldn't be recognisable to many. "I remember. Does that mean you remember everything?"
"Yes, 0062, I remember everything about you." Arthit was going for annoyed but it really came out far more fond than he had planned. He got half a second of Kongpob's bright grin before his boyfriend was right there in front of him and pulling him into a hug. Normally Arthit would scold him for hugging like this in front of his friends and his mother, all of which would surely tease him about it. But he had told him the truth before, he had missed Kongpob even before he had known what he was missing. The bed had been cold and Arthit hadn't known why. He would reach for someone's hand, only to find nothing there. So now Arthit had it back, he wasn't going to let it go again. He buried his nose in Kongpob's shoulder and breathed in his familiar scent.
He heard his friends talking among themselves and settling themselves down but he ignored them. He would feel embarrassed and far too exposed later, when his headache was gone and he had hugged Kongpob enough to make up for the last several weeks.
"I can't believe you were going to try and weasel out of your promise," Arthit said, pulling back a little so he could look at Kongpob's face. He wiped away a few tears had escaped but he was pretty sure only Kongpob (and maybe his eagle-eyed mother) had seen.
"I would never, P'Arthit! Though that promise was only if you didn't remember everything," Kongpob said in that voice which drove Arthit up the wall. It was kindly informative, just making sure everyone was on the same page. Arthit had heard Kongpob use it at work and he did not appreciate Kongpob using it at home. "And if you remembered the promise, you obviously did remember something."
"You couldn't go one conversation without being insufferable," Arthit said, rolling his eyes.
"Be nice, Ooo. Your nong helped to break the curse." Arthit's mother was seemingly done with being patient and now she was stepping in. She pulled Arthit into a hug and when Kongpob tried to pull back, to give them space, she drew him in too. Then she pulled back but only to pinch Kongpob's cheeks in the same affectionate way she did to Arthit. "I can't thank you enough for what you did for Oon." Her eyes were shining and Arthit knew that if she cried, he would definitely start sobbing and he did not have enough face for that.
"You don't have to thank me. I would do anything for P'Arthit," Kongpob said, all crushing sincerity and now Arthit wanted to die.
"You two are the worst, I should have never have introduced you," he muttered as he covered his face with his hands. He couldn't look at them anymore, he loved them both dearly but also they were so embarrassing.
"Don't be grumpy, Oon. I can cook for you! I've been wanting to do that for weeks." His mother waved off all of Kongpob's protests and Arthit sighed and took his hands away from his face. His headache was receding and he was starting to feel better than he had since this whole thing started.
"He's a baby about spice, Mae," Arthit said and his mother nodded decisively. Kongpob let out a noise of horrified protest and Arthit rolled his eyes. "Don't even tell me I shouldn't have told her, she would have found out eventually and better now than later." Because Kongpob would be polite enough to eat whatever was put in front of him, simply because it was Arthit's mother. She stood up and brushed herself off.
"You boys are welcome to stay for lunch too." Some of them tried to protest but Arthit's mother was determined to feed everyone in the room now. Arthit didn't move from the floor, where he was still partially tangled around Kongpob. It was closer than they had ever been in front of Arthit's friends but neither of them were inclined to move. Arthit had questions about the curse and how it was broken but right now, all he wanted was to eat his mother's food with Kongpob sitting next to him.
"I'm glad you got your memories back, P'Arthit," Kongpob said quietly, so quietly that Arthit was sure it was only him who heard.
"Thanks for helping me get them back, Kongpob," Arthit replied. He took Kongpob's hand and squeezed.