Ratch sat on the floor of his apartment, back against the couch, staring at the half-empty bottle of Sang Som in his hands. The city lights blurred beyond his windows, but all he could see was the look on Win's face three hours ago—that moment of pure devastation when Win had walked into the restaurant and seen him with Natee.
His phone had been buzzing nonstop since he'd gotten home, missed calls from Bom, Pond, even Natee, but he'd ignored them all. Instead, he'd grabbed the bottle and let the voicemails pile up, choosing Sang Som over facing what he'd done. Only when the calls finally stopped did he listen to the messages, each one hitting harder than he'd expected.
"Ratch, what the fuck did you do?" Bom had shouted into the phone. "I just watched that video and I can't believe that was you standing there. That's not the person I've known for three years."
"We saw the video, man," Pond had said, his voice quieter but somehow more devastating. "It's everywhere. That kid's friend tearing you apart in front of the whole restaurant, and you just standing there like you knew you deserved it. What the fuck did you do to him?"
Even Natee had called, his voice quiet and tired. "Ratch, are you okay? I know you might be in your head right now but call me if you need to talk. I'm worried about you, man."
Ratch took another swig of Sang Som, the sweet taste doing nothing to numb the shame crawling through his chest. He'd thought he was so smart, so justified in his plan. Win had chosen Tawan over him, had accepted that bracelet like a symbol of moving on, and Ratch had decided to show him exactly what that felt like.
But now, sitting here in the wreckage of his own making, Ratch could see every moment with brutal clarity—not as justified retaliation, but as calculated cruelty. Monday morning flashed through his mind like a knife twisting in his gut. Win walking to class with that careful, guarded expression he'd been wearing for weeks. Ratch positioning himself and Natee at the library entrance, making sure Win would see them as he passed.
"Put your arm around me," Ratch had told Natee, his eyes tracking Win's approach. "Laugh at something I say. Make it look real."
Natee had hesitated. "Ratch, I don't think this is—"
"Please. Just this once."
So Natee had played along, leaning into Ratch's side as they bent over shared textbooks, their heads close together like lovers sharing secrets. And Ratch had watched Win's face change—watched the careful mask slip just enough to reveal the pain underneath before Win hurried past, shoulders hunched like he was trying to make himself invisible. Ratch had felt satisfied then. Vindicated. Win was getting a taste of what he'd put Ratch through, watching him with Tawan.
Tuesday at lunch had been worse. Ratch had dragged Natee to the quad, knowing Win had a break between classes, knowing he'd walk past on his way to the library. "This is getting weird," Natee had complained as Ratch pulled him toward a bench with perfect visibility. "How long are we going to keep this up?"
"Until he gets the message," Ratch had replied, then pulled Natee close when he spotted Win emerging from the science building. Win had frozen mid-step when he saw them, his face going pale. Pat had been with him, talking animatedly about something, but Win hadn't been listening—couldn't seem to look away from Ratch and Natee sitting together, Ratch's hand resting possessively on Natee's back.
"He's staring," Natee had whispered, uncomfortable with the attention.
"Good," Ratch had said, then leaned in to whisper something meaningless in Natee's ear, making it look intimate, deliberate. "Let him stare."
When he'd glanced up, Win was gone—practically running toward the library with Pat hurrying to keep up. Ratch had felt another spike of cruel satisfaction, another point scored in this game he'd convinced himself was fair.
Wednesday evening had been the final performance that was supposed to be his victory. "I can't do this anymore," Natee had said as they'd walked to the restaurant together. "This isn't working, Ratch. The kid isn't getting jealous—he's just breaking down."
But Ratch had been too deep in his own wounded pride to listen. "One more night. Just this dinner and we're done."
"Look, I get that you're hurt," Natee had continued, stopping in the middle of the sidewalk. "But this isn't making him fight for you. It's destroying him. And honestly? It's destroying you too."
Ratch had seen the concern in his friend's eyes, the way Natee looked at him like he didn't recognize the person Ratch had become. But his anger, his need to make Win hurt the way he'd been hurting, had drowned out everything else. "Please," he'd said quietly. "Just tonight. Then you can stop and I won't stop you."
Natee had sighed, resignation heavy in his voice. "Fine. But this is the last time, Ratch. After tonight, I'm done."
The restaurant had been Ratch's calculated choice—he'd overheard Pat on the phone in the library that morning, telling Win about this quiet place near campus where they could grab dinner and actually talk without the usual chaos. Pat had mentioned seven o'clock, so Ratch had dragged Natee there early, knowing they would show up for what sounded like a much-needed conversation between friends. The restaurant was casual but nice, the kind of place where two friends could sit and catch up, which made it perfect for Ratch's purposes. They'd been seated for twenty minutes, Natee going through the motions of their charade while Ratch scanned the entrance, waiting. Part of him had hoped Win wouldn't show, that this whole elaborate revenge fantasy would end without the final confrontation. But a larger part—the wounded, prideful part—had needed Win to see this, to understand what his choice had cost.
And then Win had walked in. Ratch had seen him first—Win stepping through the entrance with Pat beside him, both of them looking tired but peaceful, just two friends looking for a quiet meal after a long day. Win's eyes had swept the room casually, then locked onto their table. The change in Win's expression had been instant and devastating. His face had gone white, his lips parting in a silent gasp as he took in the scene—Ratch leaning across the table toward Natee, their heads bent together in what looked like an intimate conversation.
But instead of anger, instead of jealousy, Win's eyes had filled with tears. Pure, devastating hurt that made him look like a child who'd just watched his world crumble. He'd turned to leave immediately, not even attempting to approach or confront them. "Win, wait—" Ratch had jumped up from his chair, his heart pounding, some instinct making him reach out even as his brain screamed that this was what he'd wanted.
But Pat had stepped between them, his usually gentle face twisted with fury. "Don't." His voice had carried across the restaurant, loud enough for nearby tables to hear. "Don't you dare go after him now."
"You don't understand—" Ratch had started, but Pat's next words had cut through him like a blade.
"I don't want to understand," Pat had cut him off, his voice getting louder. "But what I do understand is I'm not going to let you continue to hurt him. So don't you dare come after him. Just leave him the hell alone."
The restaurant had gone quiet, other diners turning to watch the confrontation unfold. Win had tugged at Pat's arm, whispering for him to stop, but Pat had shaken him off. "You want to know what you need to hear?" Pat's voice had gotten louder, more furious. "My best friend has been crying himself to sleep because of you. He's been miserable without you. He chose YOU, you idiot. But here you are with someone else."
The words had hit Ratch like physical blows. "What?"
"He was coming to you Monday but you know what? He saw you with him," Pat's voice had been shaking with rage as he pointed at Natee. "Go back to your date. I'm done wasting my time with someone like you. I don't know what he ever saw in you."
Then Pat had guided a shattered Win toward the exit, leaving Ratch standing there in front of the entire restaurant, the weight of his mistake crushing down on him like a collapsed building.
Ratch tilted his head back against the couch, tears streaming down his face as the memory played out in vivid, horrible detail. He'd been so sure, so convinced that he'd seen Win accepting Tawan's bracelet, choosing safety over the messy intensity of what they'd had together. But he'd been wrong. Catastrophically, devastatingly wrong. The look on Natee's face when he stood up from their table, walked up, placed his hand on Ratch's shoulder and said, "I tried to warn you and look what happened. You have both of us looking like fools," shaking his head before walking away by himself.
His phone buzzed again, and this time Ratch reached for it, scrolling through the group chat with blurry vision. The messages hit him like slaps:
Bom: You can ignore our calls all you want Ratch
Pond: But we all saw the video man. That was fucked up
Bom: @Ratch dude what the hell is wrong with you
Pond: This fake relationship thing with Natee is getting out of hand
Third_Year_Mike: Wait what fake relationship?
Pond: He's pretending to date Natee to make the kid jealous
Bom: EXACTLY. And it's not even working. He just looks broken
Bom: You're being a complete ass @Ratch
Third_Year_Mike: That's fucked up man
Pond: The whole campus has seen that video by now
Bom: Seriously. Fix this before you lose the kid for good
Third_Year_Mike: Watching that kid's face in the video... damn, Ratch
Pond: Or before you turn into someone none of us recognize
Bom: This is insane man
Natee: I tried to stop him but he was sure about what he saw
Third_Year_Mike: What did he see?
Natee: Saw him with some guy getting a bracelet or something
Bom: And that's it? That's what this whole mess is about?
Natee: He's my friend and asked for help even if it's messed up
Third_Year_Mike: This is insane man
Natee: Now it's everywhere online. Everyone's seen what we did to him
Pond: At least someone tried to talk sense into him
Ratch set the phone down, unable to read anymore. His friends were right about everything—he'd become someone unrecognizable, someone cruel and vindictive who'd taken his pain and weaponized it against the person he claimed to love. He thought about Win's face at the restaurant, the way tears had filled his eyes not with anger but with heartbreak. Win hadn't looked like someone who'd been caught cheating or playing games. He'd looked like someone whose world had just shattered. Because Win had chosen him.
Win sat at his laptop, tears streaming down his face, his hands shaking as he stared at the cursor blinking in an empty document. He'd tried to write the next chapter of "Summer's End" three times, tried to lose himself in Alex and Kai's love story, but every word felt like a lie. How could he write about love and happiness when his own heart was bleeding out all over his keyboard?
The restaurant scene kept replaying in his mind—Ratch and Natee sitting together, leaning close as they talked, looking so natural together that it had stolen Win's breath. The way Ratch had jumped up when Win turned to leave, the expression on his face that Win couldn't quite read.
Win wiped his eyes and opened his author account instead. If he couldn't write fiction, maybe he could write truth. Maybe his readers, these strangers who'd followed Alex and Kai's story, would understand what it felt like to watch someone you love be happy with someone else.
"I know you've been waiting for Chapter 5, but I'm struggling," Win typed, his vision blurring as he poured his heart onto the screen. "I'm doing a Q&A instead. Ask me anything about love, heartbreak, or writing. Maybe your questions will help me find my way back to Alex and Kai's story. - InvisibleHeart"
Win stared at the words for a long moment, then added his own question, his heart on his sleeve: "This is my question to you: How do you stop the pain of seeing someone you love being with someone else? If it happened to you and you got to experience it from both sides, what would you do? Would you go after who you love, or would you walk away and deal with the problems you may have created? You reply to mine and I'll answer yours."
He hit publish before he could second-guess himself, then watched as responses began flooding in almost immediately. SunsetDreamer wrote: "Oh no, InvisibleHeart, this sounds so personal. Are you okay? Sometimes fighting for love is worth it, even when it hurts."
BLFan2024 added: "The fact that you experienced it from both sides means you understand the pain completely. Maybe that understanding is the first step to healing?"
LoveWins chimed in: "Don't give up! True love is worth fighting for, no matter how much it hurts right now."
HeartbrokenToo's comment made Win's chest tighten: "I'm going through something similar. Seeing someone you love with someone else is the worst pain ever. But maybe they're not as happy as they seem?"
Win wiped his eyes and began typing responses, needing the connection with people who understood his pain. "Thank you for caring," he replied to SunsetDreamer. "It does feel personal because... well, sometimes life and fiction blur together. I'm not sure I have any fight left in me."
To BLFan2024, he wrote: "You're right about understanding the pain. I never realized how much it would hurt to watch someone I love be happy with someone else. But I also never realized how much pain I caused when I was the one who couldn't choose."
His response to HeartbrokenToo came from the deepest part of his ache: "I'm sorry you're going through this too. They looked so happy though. Really, genuinely happy. And maybe that's what I deserve to see after putting him through something similar."
More comments poured in, each one making Win feel less alone but also more aware of how broken he felt. He continued responding, pouring his heart out to these strangers who somehow understood his pain better than anyone in his real life. To LoveWins, he wrote: "I want to believe that, but what if the person you love has moved on? What if your hesitation cost you everything? What if you realize too late that you were the problem all along?"
NewReader99's comment made him pause: "InvisibleHeart, your story helped me realize I was in love with my best friend. Your writing about being chosen, about being seen... it gave me courage. Maybe it can give you courage too?"
Win's response came from his soul: "I'm so glad the story helped you. That means everything to me. As for courage... I think I used up all of mine when I finally made my choice, only to find out it was too late. Some windows close, and you can't blame anyone but yourself for not walking through them when they were open."
Win leaned back in his chair, emotionally drained from reliving his pain through the responses. But there was something cathartic about it too, about putting his heartbreak into words and having people respond with understanding instead of judgment. His phone had been buzzing with messages from Pat all evening, checking on him, making sure he was okay after what happened at the restaurant. Win had assured him he was fine, but they both knew it was a lie.
That's when a comment appeared that made Win's breath catch:
Meanwhile, Ratch had been scrolling through his phone aimlessly when the notification popped up—InvisibleHeart had posted something new. His heart clenched as he read Win's vulnerable Q&A, the desperate pain in every word making his chest tight with guilt and longing. He scrolled through Win's responses to readers, each one revealing more heartbreak, more self-blame, more of the gentle soul that Ratch had fallen in love with and then systematically tried to destroy.
"I never realized how much it would hurt to watch someone I love be happy with someone else," Win had written. "They looked so happy though. Really, genuinely happy." "Maybe that's what I deserve to see after putting him through something similar."
Ratch's vision blurred as he read Win's words, understanding finally hitting him with devastating clarity. Win blamed himself—not just for the summer's ending, but for the pain Ratch had felt watching him with Tawan. Win thought he deserved this cruelty, thought it was some kind of cosmic justice for the confusion he'd caused.
Unable to stay silent, Ratch typed a response, too drunk and broken to hide from his feelings any longer but needing Win to know someone understood.
CyberHeart_R: What if the person you love was trying to hurt you the same way you hurt them? What if it was all just a lesson, and now you both know how it feels?
Win's response came quickly, and it shattered what was left of Ratch's heart: "That's a painful thought. If it was a lesson, then I guess we both learned something. But lessons like that... they don't bring people together. They just show you how cruel love can make you when you're hurting."
Ratch stared at the screen, tears streaming down his face. Win was right—all they'd done was hurt each other, teach each other new ways to bleed. But maybe...
CyberHeart_R: Maybe the cruelty was the point. Maybe some people need to hit rock bottom before they can build something real.
InvisibleHeart: Rock bottom is a lonely place. I'm not sure I know how to build anything from here.
Win's response hung on the screen, and Ratch felt something break open in his chest. Here was the boy he loved, convinced he was alone, convinced he deserved the pain Ratch had inflicted on him. Win was drowning, and Ratch had been the one holding his head underwater.
His fingers moved across the keyboard before his brain could stop them, alcohol and regret making him reckless. He opened a private message to InvisibleHeart and began typing: "That question was meant for me, wasn't it? You want to know if I'm satisfied now that you understand how it felt watching you with Tawan. The truth is, seeing you break tonight made me realize I became someone I don't recognize. We both learned our lessons, but maybe it's time we stopped teaching each other and started healing together."
His hands were shaking as he continued: "I'm sorry, Win. I'm so fucking sorry for what I put you through. You didn't deserve any of it. You chose me weeks ago, and I was too blind and proud to see it. I saw you two that day with that bracelet and I believed he was giving it to you, I believed you were choosing him and I lost it. Hell, I felt like I lost you."
The words poured out of him like blood from a wound: "I love you. I never stopped loving you, even when I was trying to hurt you. Especially then. And I know I don't deserve forgiveness, I know I've destroyed whatever trust we had, but I needed you to know that none of this was your fault. The cruelty was all mine."
Ratch's vision was blurry with tears and alcohol as he typed the final lines: "We're both at rock bottom now, but maybe... maybe we can find our way back to each other from here. If you're willing to try."
He hit send before he could lose his nerve, then set the phone aside and buried his face in his hands. He'd exposed everything—his identity, his feelings, his desperate hope that somehow they could find their way back to each other through all this pain.
Win stared at the private message, his heart hammering against his ribs. After everything—the fake relationship, the public humiliation, the weeks of cruelty—was this Ratch's way of reaching out? The message was raw, honest, devastating in its admission of guilt and love. Ratch had been behind the comments, had been watching Win pour his heart out to strangers, had seen how broken Win was and finally understood what his revenge had cost.
Win's fingers hovered over the keyboard, tears streaming down his face. Part of him wanted to rage, to demand answers, to make Ratch hurt the way he'd been hurting. But a larger part, the part that had never stopped loving Ratch despite everything, whispered that maybe this was their chance—their chance to stop hurting each other and start healing instead.
"We're both at rock bottom now, but maybe... maybe we can find our way back to each other from here," Ratch had written.
Maybe they could. Maybe love was worth one more try, even when it felt impossible. Maybe especially then. The question was: were either of them brave enough to find out?