Chaos peaked outside the Music Department. Students had gathered like a pack of thirsty fans, but instead of a romantic serenade, they got a front-row seat to a dramatic meltdown.
"I'm innocent, na krub! Trust me!" a voice wailed from the center of the huddle, sounding like a broken violin.
"I only did good things! I'm a helper! A saint!" In a move straight out of a lakorn drama, the guy began fumbling with his buttons. "You want to hit me? Then hit me! My chest is ready for your fury!"
The crowd groaned in unison—if eye-rolling were an Olympic sport, they would have all won gold medals.
The cringe factor finally snapped someone's patience.
WHACK.....
A stray fist landed, and the scene devolved into a glorious, messy dogpile. Amidst the flying limbs and stray sneakers, a figure began to emerge from the bottom of the heap. He didn't rise; he crawled, inching out of the chaos like a ghost escaping a haunted house.
Finally, a tall, lanky guy—looking like a literal skeleton who had skipped every gym day in history—scrambled to his feet.
He stood there, panting as if he had just run across Bangkok in the midday heat, his eyes landing right on Toffee and Lamon.
Lamon stood frozen, his jaw hitting the floor. He wasn't sure if he should offer the guy a glass of water or a funeral service.
"Lamon, why'd you stop? Look! The drama is peaking and someone is literally spawning out of that pile of limbs!
" Toffee chirped, his eyes wide with gossip-hunger.
Lamon paled, his soul nearly leaving his body. "Wait, Toffee... I think I know that... thing. Actually, no. I don't. Let's take a five-mile detour. Right now."
"LAMONNNNNNN!" A voice screamed, vibrating with the desperation of a man who had just seen his last bowl of boat noodles.
"Lamon, help me! Help your dear friend!"
The skeletal figure wailed even louder, his voice reaching a pitch only dogs and stressed-out university students could hear.
"HELP ME, LAMON! MY BESTEST FRIEND IN THE WHOLE WIDE WORLD!"
The angry mob paused, their collective gaze swinging toward Lamon and Toffee like a synchronized dance troupe.
"Oh," someone in the crowd hissed, cracking their knuckles.
"So these are his accomplices?"
"Let's deal with the 'best friends' first! Catch them!"
Lamon's heart did a burnout in his chest. "Toffee, on the count of three, we run for our lives."
Toffee blinked, completely lost in space, don't have any idea what's going on.
"Wait, what? Run where? Which count? Can we at least count to ten so I can mentally prepare?"
"RUN, TOFFEE! RUN!" Lamon bellowed.
"WAIT! TAKE ME WITH YOU!" the skeleton shrieked, reaching out a bony hand.
In a moment of pure, panicked instinct, Lamon grabbed the back of the skeletal guy's shirt, dragging him off the floor like a sack of dry bones. The three of them bolted across campus, a chaotic blur of limbs and terror, with a mob of angry music majors hot on their heels.
They ran like they were the lead actors in a high-stakes action lakorn, lungs burning and legs turning to jelly. Every corner they turned was a dead end, and every bush was too small to hide a trio of panicked boys.
"Lamon! There! The detour!" Toffee gasped, pointing toward a narrow alley.
They skidded around the corner, hearts thumping in sync—only to see the mob rounding the opposite bend.
"WE FOUND THEM!" the crowd roared with the intensity of a thousand fanbases.
"AHHHHHHHHH!"
The three of them shrieked in a perfect, terrified harmony, spinning on their heels and sprinting in the opposite direction like a cartoon chase scene.
Eventually, by some miracle or perhaps just pure desperation, they collapsed into a heap behind the bleachers of the basketball court. The chaos faded into the distance, leaving only the sound of aggressive wheezing.
Toffee doubled over, clutching his knees. "Lamon..." pant... "Why..." wheeze... "Why are we even running?"
Lamon froze. He looked at his sweaty palms, then at the empty air. "Wait. That's a good point. Why are we running?"
Both of them slowly turned their heads to look at the third member of their party. The skeletal guy was sprawled flat on the concrete, looking like a discarded marionette, his chest heaving as he stared at the sky.
"He's the problem, right?" Toffee whispered, pointing a trembling finger at the human noodle on the floor.
"We didn't do anything. We're innocent bystanders. Why are we hiding like we robbed a bank?"
"You're right," Lamon said, his eyes narrowing as he regained his dignity. "This is all his fault."
"Then ask him," Toffee nudged him. "Lamon, you're the 'best friend.' You ask him what kind of hell he just dragged us into!"
Lamon cautiously nudged the heap of limbs with his sneaker. "Oi... hey! Wake up before I leave you here as a sacrifice to the faculty ghosts."
The figure didn't even budge. His eyes stayed shut as he mumbled groggily, "Mae... just five more minutes... I'll go buy the fish sauce later..."
"You jerk! I'm not your mother, and this isn't your bedroom!" Lamon snapped, his patience hitting zero.
The skeletal guy's eyes finally fluttered open. He blinked, squinting at Lamon until his brain finally clicked. A shameless, lopsided grin spread across his face.
"Ohhh! Lamon! What are you doing here? Did you come here to play? Or were you so desperate to see me that you joined the marathon?" He chuckled, ignoring his bruised ribs.
"Don't pretend you aren't the reason I had to run like a madman just now."
Lamon stared at him, speechless, as the guy sat up and dusted off his ruined uniform.
"Don't tell me you forgot me? We were in the same club back in high school! I was legendary, you know." He cleared his throat with the dramatic flair of a lead singer. "I'm Phayu krab... surely the name 'Storm' rings a bell?"
Lamon's face drained of all color. The memories hit him like a high-speed bus. "Phayu... oh, you... that... walking disaster?!"
Lamon spun around, grabbing Toffee's arm so hard the poor boy squeaked.
"Toffee, abort mission! We're leaving! If we stay near him for another minute, the whole building might actually collapse!"
"Hey! You guys!" Phayu wailed, his voice cracking with desperation as he reached out a lanky, trembling hand. "At least I'm your friend! Don't abandon me like a stray dog! Have some nam jai!"
"Lamon, I feel bad. We can't just leave him; he looks like a literal zombie," Toffee whispered, watching the heap of bones on the floor.
Lamon grabbed Toffee's hand and dragged him a few meters away, making sure Phayu was out of earshot.
"Toffee, listen to me. I'm not being heartless, but do you know what his nickname was back in school? The Nightmare Helper."
Toffee blinked. "What? That's a weird nickname."
"It's not weird, it's a warning khab! He got it because of his personality. Every time he 'helps,' a disaster follows. Did you know—"
Suddenly, a long, dark shadow stretched over them from behind.
Toffee's eyes went wide. "Lamon... something is behind us. Is it a ghost? Is it real? Lamon, I'm scared!"
"Toffee, it's high noon! How can there be a ghost?" Lamon hissed, though his own voice was shaking.
"What if it's a ghost that died eating lunch?! Lamon!"
"Okay, okay! Let's look together. One... two... THREE!"
They spun around, screaming at the top of their lungs. To their horror, Phayu was right there, screaming just as loud as they were.
"AHHH! Is there a ghost beside me?!
Lamon! Tell me! I don't want to look!"
Lamon and Toffee instantly cut their screams short. They stared at Phayu's terrified, sweaty face for a beat before saying in perfect, deadpan unison: "Actually, we think a ghost would be better than you. What a waste of energy."
"You guys, seriously! I almost met my ancestors!" Phayu wailed, before suddenly breaking into a shameless laugh.
Lamon and Toffee exchanged a look, letting out a heavy, synchronized sigh that carried the weight of the entire semester.
Suddenly, Phayu's eyes zeroed in on Toffee. His expression shifted from 'dying man' to 'flirty predator' in a heartbeat.
"Wait... Lamon, who is this? So cute, so beautiful... so full of life unlike me..." He leaned in, eyes sparkling. "Can I ask for your name, khab?"
Lamon immediately stepped in front of Toffee like a human shield.
"Get back! Don't you dare infect him with your chaos!"
"Lamon... can't you just help your best friend?" Phayu pouted.
"I have one question, Phayu," Lamon said, his voice cold. "When exactly did we become friends? We were in the same club for three years and I never saw you once."
"Oh, that's because I was a 'Behind the Scenes' legend! Very busy!" Phayu chirped, then peeked around Lamon's shoulder to wink at Toffee. "I'm Phayu khab. Nice to meet you."
Toffee peeked back, offering a shy, polite smile. "I'm Toffee khab. Nice to meet you too."
"Toffee? What a sweet name! I think I have a cavity just hearing it—"
"Get to the point, Phayu!" Lamon barked.
"Why was half the Music Department trying to murder you? What did you do this time?"
Toffee nodded, leaning in with curiosity.
"Ugh, it's not even a big deal! I was just being a Good Samaritan," Phayu sighed. "It's a long story..."
"We have nothing but time," Lamon deadpanned. "Talk."
"Okay, okay! So, I helped a girl who was heartbroken because her boyfriend was cheating. I went to get her justice! I found the guy with another girl and caused a scene. That boy's girlfriend got so mad she slapped him and dumped him right there! Success, right?"
"And?" Toffee asked, eyes wide.
"Well... turns out the girl I helped wasn't actually his girlfriend. She was just a stalker who liked him one-sidedly! So I basically ruined a real relationship for a crazy person.
But hey! Now the broken two girls have bonded over how trash the guy is and they're dating each other! I created love!"
Lamon rubbed his temples.
"And the mob?"
"Oh, those were the guy's friends. Apparently, he's threatening to jump off a building because I ruined his life. They said I'm a 'homewrecker by proxy.' I need justice, Lamon! I'm the victim here!"
Lamon looked at Toffee. "If he goes back out there now, he won't be a noon ghost—he'll be a permanent faculty spirit."
"Wait!" Phayu's eyes lit up with a terrifying new idea.
"If he's acting suicidal to get her back... maybe I should go back and help him fake it better so she feels sorry for him?"
Lamon turned to Toffee, his face completely blank. "Toffee, can we just hit him once and then run for real this time?"
"That," Toffee said, nodding solemnly, "is the best idea you've had all day."
"Lamon... Toffee... my soul is leaving my body. I need food or I'll actually turn into a ghost," Phayu groaned, clutching his flat stomach like a dying drama king.
Toffee's stomach let out a loud growl in agreement. "Lamon, he's right. My hunger is winning. Can we please eat?"
Lamon sighed, defeated. "Fine. But Phayu, promise me—no 'helping,' no 'kindness,' and absolutely no moving. Just sit and eat. Do you understand?"
"I promise! I'll be as still as a statue, khab!" Phayu vowed, looking like a kicked puppy.
They managed to sneak toward a nearby street food stall. The aroma of holy basil and fried eggs was like a siren song.
But as they waited, the "Nightmare Helper" reflex kicked in.
The stall auntie was struggling to lift a massive, heavy pot of freshly prepped curry. Phayu's eyes widened.
"Auntie! Let me! A young man like me can't let a beautiful lady like you struggle!"
"Phayu, NO—" Lamon's warning was too late.
Phayu lunged forward with the grace of a newborn giraffe. He grabbed the handle, his foot slipped on a stray piece of kale, and—KABOOM.
The pot didn't just fall; it performed a spectacular backflip. Curry painted the stall, the floor, and the auntie's pristine apron in a vibrant shade of orange. The entire day's prep was gone in a single "helpful" splash.
The auntie froze. The air turned cold. She slowly reached for her heavy metal ladle with a look that promised a slow and painful end.
Lamon and Toffee didn't exchange a word. They didn't even look back. They spun around and sprinted for their lives, abandoning their order—and Toffee's beloved crispy pork—just to put distance between them and the crime scene.
"HEY! WAIT FOR ME! I JUST WANTED TO BE KIND!"
Phayu's voice wailed in the distance, followed by the clanging sound of a ladle hitting a lanky runner.