The Boy He Claimed
Bangkok burned in gold that afternoon.
The heat pressed against the tall glass windows of Saint Arun International School, turning the city skyline into a shimmering mirage. Inside the classroom, the air-conditioning hummed softly, but it did nothing to calm the restless energy of final-year students counting down their last semester.
Niran kept his head down.
He preferred it that way—quiet, unnoticed, safe.
His pen moved steadily across his notebook, neat handwriting filling the margins while his classmates whispered about university applications, family businesses, and parties he would never attend. His dark hair fell slightly over his eyes, and he pushed it back absentmindedly, focusing on the numbers in front of him.
He didn't notice the silence at first.
But then the whispers stopped.
The classroom door opened.
And everything changed.
The sound of polished shoes against tile echoed with deliberate confidence. Slow. Unhurried. Like someone who knew every pair of eyes would follow him.
Niran felt it before he saw him.
A presence.
Heavy. Commanding.
He looked up.
And met darkness.
Kai.
Tall. Broad-shouldered. Impossibly composed. His white uniform shirt fit too perfectly across his chest, sleeves rolled just enough to reveal strong forearms and a black watch that looked far too expensive for a schoolboy.
His expression was unreadable.
But his eyes—
His eyes were not.
They were locked on Niran.
Not scanning the room. Not curious.
Claiming.
Niran's breath hitched.
He didn't know this boy. He had never spoken to him. But the intensity in that gaze made his pulse jump painfully against his throat.
The teacher cleared her voice awkwardly. "Class, this is Kai Thanawat. He'll be joining us for the remainder of the term."
Joining.
Niran had heard the name before.
Thanawat.
Corporate empire. Real estate. Shipping. Investments. Whispers of something darker beneath the polished public image.
Even in a school full of wealthy students, Kai's family name carried weight.
Dangerous weight.
Kai walked down the aisle between desks.
Slow.
Measured.
He didn't look at anyone else.
Not even once.
The closer he got, the harder Niran's heartbeat pounded.
Don't look at him.
Don't react.
But it was impossible.
Kai stopped.
Right beside Niran's desk.
"This seat taken?" His voice was low. Smooth. Controlled.
Niran swallowed. "N-No."
It wasn't.
But he suddenly wished it was.
Kai pulled the chair back and sat beside him.
Close.
Too close.
The faint scent of expensive cologne wrapped around Niran's senses—dark, warm, intoxicating. He could feel the heat of Kai's body through the thin space between their arms.
"You're shaking," Kai murmured softly, just loud enough for Niran to hear.
"I'm not."
A pause.
A faint smirk touched Kai's mouth.
"Liar."
Across the room, Pim watched.
She leaned back in her chair, twirling a pen between her fingers, sharp eyes glinting with interest. Pim had always been bold where Niran was quiet—fearless with her words, playful with her smiles.
And she saw it instantly.
The tension.
The electricity.
Oh, this was going to be fun.
When the teacher turned to the board, Pim stood casually and walked over, stopping in front of their desks.
"Well," she said brightly, resting her hip against Niran's table. "Aren't you going to introduce yourself properly?"
Kai's gaze shifted to her for the first time.
It wasn't warm.
It wasn't polite.
It was assessing.
"And you are?" he asked.
"Pim." She smiled. "Niran's friend."
She emphasized the last word.
Kai's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly.
"Niran doesn't need you to speak for him."
The temperature in the room dropped.
Pim's smile widened instead of fading. "Oh? And you've known him for how long?"
Kai didn't answer.
He turned back to Niran.
That gaze again.
Intense. Direct. Unapologetic.
"How long have you lived in Bangkok?" Kai asked quietly.
"All my life."
"Good."
The single word sounded like a decision.
Pim raised an eyebrow. "Good?"
Kai finally leaned back in his chair, stretching his arm across the backrest—just behind Niran's shoulders. Not touching.
But close enough that Niran felt surrounded.
"Means he's not leaving."
The implication hung heavy in the air.
Niran's cheeks flushed.
"I never said I was going anywhere."
Kai's eyes darkened slightly.
"Better not."
The bell rang, breaking the moment.
Students began packing up, chatter flooding back into the room. But the air between them remained charged.
Niran stood quickly, nearly knocking over his chair.
He needed space.
Air.
Distance.
But as he stepped into the hallway, a hand caught his wrist.
Firm.
Warm.
Possessive.
He gasped softly and turned.
Kai stood close—too close—with no one else paying attention.
"You run a lot?" Kai asked.
"I'm not running."
"Looked like it."
Niran tried to pull his wrist free.
Kai didn't let go.
His thumb brushed slowly over the inside of Niran's pulse point.
Not accidental.
Deliberate.
Niran's breath faltered.
"Your heart's racing again," Kai murmured. "Because of me."
"That's ridiculous."
"Is it?"
Their faces were inches apart now.
Close enough that Niran could see the faint scar near Kai's eyebrow. Close enough to feel his breath.
Pim's voice cut through from down the hall.
"Niran! We're going to the café after school!"
Kai's grip tightened slightly.
"Tell her no."
"I can decide that myself."
Kai studied him carefully.
Something flickered behind his eyes.
Approval?
Interest?
Danger?
"Good," Kai said softly. "I prefer when you push back."
Niran's throat went dry.
"Why are you doing this?" he whispered.
"Doing what?"
"This."
Kai leaned closer, his voice dropping lower.
"Because," he said, his lips nearly brushing Niran's ear, "the moment I walked in… you were the only one who didn't look at me like you wanted something."
A pause.
"And I don't like not being wanted."
Niran shivered.
Kai released his wrist slowly.
But his fingers lingered a second longer than necessary.
"You're interesting," Kai added quietly.
Then he stepped back.
Composed again.
Untouchable.
As if he hadn't just shaken Niran's entire world.
Pim reached them seconds later, eyes bouncing between the two boys.
"Well," she said lightly, "that was intense."
Kai didn't look at her.
He was still watching Niran.
Measuring him.
Memorizing him.
"See you tomorrow," Kai said.
It wasn't a suggestion.
It was a promise.
And as he walked away down the corridor, students instinctively moved aside for him.
Power followed him like a shadow.
Pim nudged Niran's arm.
"Careful," she teased. "He looks like the type who doesn't share."
Niran swallowed, watching Kai disappear around the corner.
He didn't know why his chest felt tight.
Didn't know why his skin still tingled where Kai had touched him.
Didn't know why part of him—
A small, reckless part—
Didn't want to run.
Above the school gates, the Bangkok sky burned red as evening began to fall.
And somewhere deep in his bones, Niran felt it.
His quiet life had just been marked.
And Kai Thanawat—
Had already decided.
He was his.