Diamond Moon. (Johan X North)

The remnants of the shattered glass still glistened under the fading sunlight, and Johan's fists clenched at his sides as he struggled to regulate his breathing. His chest felt tight, his pulse erratic, and the image of North's tear-streaked face burned into his mind like an unforgivable sin.

Arthit dragged him away from the main grounds, his grip firm but not unkind. He didn't speak, didn't reprimand—just guided Johan toward a quieter part of the country club, away from prying eyes and wagging tongues.

"Sit," Arthit ordered as they reached an empty terrace overlooking the gardens.

Johan exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair before collapsing onto a nearby bench. The fire inside him hadn't fully burned out, but exhaustion was beginning to settle in its place.

Arthit took a step back, about to turn when he noticed a sharp sting in his palm. He frowned, lifting his hand only to find a thin streak of red trailing from a fresh cut. One of the shards must have nicked him while pulling Johan away.

"Great," he muttered, shaking his head. He was about to brush it off when a familiar voice, breathless and tinged with urgency, called out.

"Arthit!"

Daotok.

The omega rushed toward him, his hands tightening around a handkerchief as if he had been searching for Arthit this entire time. His usually composed expression was pinched with worry, and without hesitation, he grabbed Arthit's wrist, inspecting the wound with sharp eyes.

"How can you be so reckless?"

Arthit blinked at the concern in Dao's voice, momentarily stunned. Before he could form a response, Dao was already tugging him toward the nearby infirmary. The room was empty, the scent of antiseptic lingering in the air as the omega pushed him down onto a chair and set to work.

"I've had worse, you know," Arthit teased, watching as Dao meticulously wiped the cut clean.

Dao didn't reply at first, focused entirely on his task. His hands were steady, but there was something almost too careful about the way he worked—like he was trying to control the emotions threatening to spill over.

When he finally spoke, his voice was softer. "That doesn't mean you should be careless."

Arthit leaned back, watching him with an unreadable expression. The moment stretched between them, heavy with something unspoken.

"You always do this," Dao continued, pressing a fresh bandage to Arthit's palm. "Throw yourself into situations without a second thought, get hurt, and then act like it's nothing." He exhaled sharply, his fingers tightening just slightly. "It's not nothing."

Arthit tilted his head, a slow smile tugging at his lips. "It's nice to see you care for me."

Dao's hands froze for the briefest moment before he scoffed, rolling his eyes. "Don't start."

"I mean it."

Something in his voice made Dao pause. He finally looked up, meeting Arthit's gaze directly.

The air between them changed.

Arthit wasn't wearing his usual playful smirk. His eyes—always alight with mischief—were serious now, something raw and vulnerable lurking beneath the surface.

"Dao," he said quietly. "I need to know something."

Dao swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. "What is it?"

Arthit took a slow breath before speaking. "I told you before. Would you be okay with me courting you?"

Dao's breath hitched.