Chapter Text
Sand leaned against the wall, gasping for breath, a dull ache still throbbing in his chest.
The night was deep, and the alley beside YOLO bar was mostly deserted. Most of the people who came hunting for a hookup had already found their targets and moved on to motels, leaving no need for hurried sex in a place reeking of vomit and urine.
Of course, Sand wasn't there for that either.
Initially, he just wanted to escape the crowd that flirted with him after his performance, to find a quiet spot and smoke a cigarette alone. He wasn't desperate, and he certainly couldn't be bothered to waste time on meaningless one-night stands. All he wanted was a moment of peace in the fog of nicotine, a chance to forget certain troubles.
But the source of those troubles had ultimately driven him to curl up here, chest aching.
Top.
That bastard.
That bastard had not only slept with his boyfriend—now ex-boyfriend—but had also beaten Sand up.
Well, Sand had thrown the first punch. But a scumbag like Top deserved it.
When Sand walked out of YOLO, he literally ran into Top. Their eyes locked in mid-air, sparks flying. Sand intentionally bumped into Top hard, and the other man predictably followed him, his tone dripping with the smug satisfaction of having unsettled Sand. For someone like Top, the thrill of conquest was nothing compared to the pleasure of watching the victim's pained expression afterward.
Naturally, Sand wasn't about to let himself be mocked.
His fist flew out almost instinctively, connecting with the corner of Top's mouth. Top staggered back a couple of steps, spat, showed no fear, and simply waved toward the street.
The next moment, two bodyguards emerged from a car and pinned Sand to the ground. Sand couldn't forget the look of contempt in Top's eyes as he looked down at him while he was restrained, as if to say: A bug like you struggles in vain.
A bug that Top could crush with a flick of his finger. He didn't even have his bodyguards do it; instead, he leisurely walked over and ground the sole of his shoe against Sand's chest, not too hard, but not too gently either.
Every sharp pain with each breath now was a relentless reminder of that scene. Sand couldn't help but clench his fists, his knuckles turning white from the force. The love for his ex was long gone, replaced now by pure hatred for Top.
The hatred was solidifying. He wanted to forge it into a sharp, cold light, a blade to plunge into Top's chest and carve a bloody wound.
Someday.
Vicious curses gathered in his heart until they were interrupted by a sudden retching sound.
"Urgh—"
Sand watched helplessly as vomit splashed onto his leather shoes and trouser legs.
Fuck. What the hell?
Just when it rains, it pours. Was there no end to his misfortune tonight? Even a drunkard was against him.
A swaying shadow loomed over him. A man in a patterned shirt staggered a couple of steps, then, as if his strength had completely drained, slumped weakly next to Sand.
Sand looked at the fallen man, startled. As the man tilted over, the dim light from the alley entrance briefly swept across his face. Sand recognized him.
To confirm his suspicion, Sand reached out and brushed aside the messy bangs from the man's forehead, revealing his distinct features.
It was him.
Though he couldn't remember the exact name, Sand had seen this man walking with Top on campus more than once. They always swaggered around in a group. Top was tall and broad, while this man was much slimmer. He usually didn't walk right next to Top; there was always a bespectacled, more bookish-looking boy between them, the three forming a tight little clique. Occasionally, a girl with long hair and another boy with short hair would join them.
While hating Top from afar, Sand had also etched this face into his memory.
But he never expected that on the same night he was humiliated and beaten by Top, he'd also get vomited on by this guy.
What a shitty night.
"Mmm..." As if things weren't chaotic enough, the man beside him seemed to stir, letting out a muddled murmur.
He reached out and grabbed Sand's wrist, which was still resting near his forehead.
"Mew... is that you?"
Mew was the bespectacled boy from the trio. Sand had once participated in the same scholarship defense as him, so he knew his name. It seemed this drunkard had mistaken him for the bespectacled guy.
Sand was speechless. He tried to pull his hand back, but the drunk's grip was surprisingly strong, holding on tightly. He even pushed his fingers between Sand's, interlacing them in a ten-finger clasp.
"Don't go..."
The drunk's voice was slurred and sticky, tinged with a childlike pitifulness. Alcohol had flushed his cheeks a rosy pink, his cheekbones glowing with an enticing sheen. Even his eyelashes were damp, a few strands clinging to his eyelids, making Sand's heart soften inexplicably.
On campus, Sand usually only watched these polished rich kids from a distance. This man's hair was always impeccably styled, his clothes were brands Sand recognized from the logos as far beyond his means. From head to toe, everything screamed of the chasm between them.
But now, he was so fragile, so disheveled, so wretched. Even the collar of his expensive shirt was stained. It seemed there was no distinction between rich and poor here—they were both just souls crushed by life, huddled by chance in the same filthy alley.
For a moment, Sand forgot to pull his hand away.
"Mew... thank you for staying with me..." It wasn't until Mew's name was mentioned again that he snapped out of it.
Had the three of them come together tonight? Since Top and this guy were here, Mew should have come too. But Sand hadn't seen Mew when he encountered Top earlier. Why was this drunk calling for him in such an abandoned tone?
"Hey, sober up a bit."
Sand used his free hand to pat the drunk's cheek. "Call him. I'm not Mew."
The other man still didn't seem to realize his mistake. He sniffled, his voice growing weaker, tinged with sadness. "Mew, are you leaving?"
As if convinced the person before him was about to leave, he struggled to sit up and buried himself in Sand's chest.
"Ugh!" Sand grunted in pain.
The spot on his chest that Top had stomped on was impacted again, making him grimace. "I must owe you rich people something."
As the man lunged forward, a card slipped from the pocket on his chest. Sand picked it up. The name on the ID caught his eye:
Ray Pakorn.
So that was his name.
"Ray?" Sand smirked. "You're not very 'ray of sunshine' at all. Drunk like this, you won't see the morning sun when you wake up tomorrow."
He helplessly pushed at the head still buried in his chest, trying to create some space with his elbow to slip the ID back into Ray's pocket. But as soon as his fingertips touched the other's chest, Ray's hand covered his.
"Mew... you finally touched me..."
Ray's blurted words stunned Sand. Until this moment, he had thought Ray's dependence on Mew was just between friends. Now, it seemed it wasn't that simple.
The images of Top, Mew, and Ray swirled and overlapped in his mind—from what he knew, Top and Mew were dating. Top, Mew, and Ray seemed to be close friends, and Ray was clearly... harboring feelings for Mew.
Sand's heart suddenly began to race.
He stared at Ray.
Those misty, hazy eyes were still damp. His glistening lips were slightly parted, intermittently letting out slurred syllables.
An idea occurred to him.
Are you the "ray"?
This unexpected encounter with Ray was indeed like a beam of light squeezing into the darkest corner of his heart. But it couldn't dispel the darkness; it could only entangle with the hatred festering there until it was consumed.
He smiled. He deliberately softened his voice, adding a hint of coaxing.
"It's me. I'm Mew. Let's go home."
*
Only after Sand had settled Ray onto his own sofa did his frantically pounding heart begin to calm slightly.
God, what am I doing?
He had actually brought a stranger home. He drove Ray's car, with the keys having been vaguely shoved into his hand by Ray when he was half-drunk and disoriented.
His initial thought had been simple and base: seize this rare opportunity to get close to Ray, gain his trust, then use Ray to drive a wedge between Top and Mew, to make Mew—to make their entire circle—see Top for who he truly was. He wanted Top to be abandoned and disgraced. He wanted to meet him again and be able to crush him underfoot with the same look of contempt.
But after pushing open his apartment door, after shrugging Ray's arm off his shoulder, a wave of intense unease washed over him. This plan was far too bold, too fantastical.
He knew absolutely nothing about Ray. The docile, pitiful display just now was most likely just the alcohol, giving him the illusion of an opening. Once Ray sobered up, this rich kid would most likely turn hostile, perhaps even question him with the same contemptuous look Top had.
The thought of that possibility made Sand's stomach churn.
But what if... even with the smallest probability... Ray wasn't like Top?
Chaotic thoughts swirled. His nerves were stretched taut like violin strings; any misstep could snap them completely. He felt as if he were walking a tightrope.
But looking at Ray on the sofa, he knew there was no turning back.
He set aside his thoughts for the moment, deciding to change out of their dirty clothes first. He knelt down, first taking off Ray's soiled shoes, then reaching to undo the buttons on his shirt.
"Mmm..." As Sand undid the first button, Ray let out a soft moan. Perhaps cold air had seeped in; tiny goosebumps immediately rose on his skin, and his whole body shivered unconsciously. "Cold..."
Before the word "cold" had fully faded in the air, Sand felt a hand cover the back of his neck and pull him forward, heedless of anything else.
Soft lips pressed against his.
The fiery intensity of tequila mixed with the sweet, clean scent of citrus exploded between Sand's lips and teeth. It wasn't a tentative touch but a deep, seeking invasion. Ray's tongue was scalding and wet, prying open Sand's lips, which had parted in surprise, and plunging inside.
The spot on his chest that Top had stomped on was distinctly still throbbing, but that pain was now overridden by the sharper, more burning sensation on his lips.
"Mmm..."
Sand moaned.
Ray's bold move took him by surprise. Even if he had intended to set a trap for Ray, he hadn't planned on taking advantage of him while he was drunk like this. He just wanted an excuse to befriend him, to make Ray owe him a favor.
But damn it, Ray's kissing skills... were good. Not in a technical way, but in a natural, instinctive manner, fueled by alcohol-induced frank passion. Every lick and entanglement sent a physiological shiver through Sand.
At this moment, he was overcome by a wave of intense shame at his own rapidly ignited physiological response.
Since being betrayed by his ex, Sand had thrown himself entirely into work, making money, and his studies. He loathed the idea of getting into messy relationships again; it reminded him of how his ex had betrayed him in similar hookups. He had built high walls, numbing himself with nicotine and exhaustion. But now, a long-absent, purely physical desire had breached his defenses.
Sand raised his knee against the sofa, leaning forward as he wrapped his arms around Ray’s neck, passionately returning the kiss. He was no longer just the one receiving it, but part of a mutual entanglement. He gently caught Ray’s tongue that had ventured into his mouth, sucking softly until he felt the other tremble and release a satisfied sigh.
The scent of alcohol steamed and passed between their intertwined breaths. Sand felt drunk himself.
He pressed on.
His palm slid over the expensive shirt, roaming everywhere, feeling the warm skin and slightly protruding bones beneath the fabric.
The light bulb in the living room flickered.
With one flicker, he tore off his own T-shirt and undid the remaining buttons on Ray's shirt. Their clothes slid to the floor, forgotten.
With another flicker, the two nubs on Ray's chest hardened, standing erect within the slightly darker areolas. Sand's kisses moved from Ray's lips downward, over his Adam's apple, until they landed on his chest.
"Ah..."
The moment his nipple was taken into that wet, warm mouth, Ray threw his head back with a moan. His fingers threaded through Sand's hair, unconsciously tightening.
The sound stimulated Sand's nerves; the pulling sensation in his hair encouraged him further. He continued to tease with his tongue, circling around Ray's nipple.
He felt the front of his jeans were painfully tight, and Ray was clearly in the same state. Their hips were pressed together, moving against each other in an instinctive rhythm of desire.
Finally, Sand couldn't resist reaching for Ray's belt buckle, the tiny rhinestones digging into his fingertips.
Just as he was about to undo that troublesome restraint—
"Mew..."
That same sweet moan, but now it no longer sent waves of pleasure through him. The intoxicating rush, the wonderful chemistry between them—it was extinguished just like that.
The confusion, the heat, the immersion—all gone.
How could he have forgotten?
Ray still thought he was Mew. The lingering sweetness on his tongue, those burning kisses, those intimate caresses—they were all for Mew, not for a stranger like him... a stranger filled with hatred and ulterior motives.
Sand stopped all movement. Stripped of the numbing effect of lust, the pain in his chest returned in full force. He forced himself to look down at the man beneath him.
Ray's cheeks were flushed, the corners of his eyes deeply shadowed, his lips swollen from kissing. His gaze was still hazy and unfocused but stubbornly fixed on Sand's face, as if confused by the cessation of the kisses.
Damn it... He still looked so enticing.
A wave of absurd anger washed over Sand.
What was he upset about?
Where did this inexplicable sting come from? So what if he was being used as a substitute? Didn't that fit his plan? He could absolutely use Ray's drunkenness, exploit his hidden, painful longing for his best friend, gain his trust, and infiltrate their circle.
"What's wrong...?" Ray stared blankly at Sand, who had now sat up, not understanding what had happened. "Mew?"
Hearing the name again pulled Sand completely back to reality. He forced himself to calm down, took a deep breath, trying to suppress the unfamiliar emotion in his heart.
"It's too late, Ray." His voice was slightly hoarse as he tried to extract himself from this dangerous intimacy. "Time to rest."
He pushed himself up from the sofa, went to the bathroom to get a warm towel, and wiped down both their bodies. Ray wasn't fully cooperative, sometimes muttering "hot" and squirming, other times clinging to Sand's neck like a koala lacking security, burying his burning face in the crook of Sand's neck.
By the time he had cleaned the obvious grime off both of them, Sand was utterly exhausted. The spot on his chest where Top had stomped on him throbbed with increased pain from all the activity.
He half-supported, half-dragged Ray into the bedroom, and they both collapsed onto the not-too-spacious bed. Almost the moment his head hit the pillow, Sand fell into a deep, heavy sleep from sheer exhaustion.
This night was finally over.
*
"Who are you? Why am I here? Are you a robber? Where's my wallet, car keys, phone?"
In the early morning, Sand was awakened by violent shaking and a barrage of questions. He opened his eyes sleepily; his still-groggy brain couldn't process the information.
Those large, slightly hazy eyes, clear as a deer's, made Ray pause for a second. Ray pinched Sand's chin, scrutinizing his face carefully. The wariness in his eyes suddenly faded quite a bit. "You're... actually quite good-looking. My type."
Suddenly seeming to remember something, Ray threw back the covers and looked down—he was only wearing his underwear.
His mouth fell open slightly, an expression of sudden understanding dawning on his face.
"Uh, sorry, I don't remember last night... Did you bring me back? Did we..." he ventured, his eyes roaming over Sand's face, "...have sex?"
Images from last night flooded Sand's mind: the dark scheming, the scorching kisses, the sweet sensation on his lips... and the lingering pain in his chest, the pain of trampled dignity.
He couldn't give up.
He didn't want to give up.
This perilous path might be destined to remain in the shadows, its end perhaps an even deeper darkness—but it might be the only road that brought him closer to revenge. Even if every step teetered on the edge of lies and self-loathing, even if it meant dragging another person into this muddy scheme.
Meeting Ray's gaze, Sand slowly, deliberately, nodded his head.