Chapter Text
A sunset was made of butter and gold, blush and ruby and crimson, violet and indigo, navy and midnight. Photographs worked best for reference, because a real sunset was constantly changing, evolving, fading. Still, Peem preferred to paint sunset during a sunset if possible, just for the right vibes.
He did use a photograph for his current work, though, since it was meant to include Doi Inthanon in the background, and unless Peem wanted to fly home to Chiang Mai, seeing the real mountain wasn't likely.
Around him, people enjoyed the park—laying on blankets, reading books, walking with loved ones, biking, out and about with their pets. It was an amazing atmosphere for painting. Peem smiled as he worked.
His phone buzzed on the ground beside him and Peem paused to reach down for it. Q's face took up the screen. Shaking his head, Peem swiped to answer and put the phone to his ear.
"Ai, meung."
"How's the art coming?" Q asked, without even saying 'hello.'
Sighing and rolling his eyes, even though he was smiling, Peem said, "It was coming along better before you called."
"You can't paint and talk on the phone at the same time?" Q asked, then tsked. "You need to practice more."
A single laugh. "Screw you, too, asshole." Peem shook his head and, just to spite his friend, switched the phone to his left side and leaned forward to add a few more strokes to his painting. "Is that all you needed?"
"We're getting together to celebrate Toey's final semester starting. You're coming, right?"
Now Peem nodded. "Uh. I'll be there. When and where?"
"Sunday. Six o'clock. Your house, obviously."
Peem barely kept from bursting into laughter. Obviously. They must've planned with Auntie Pui before asking him. Was he coming, indeed.
The call ended shortly after that, and Peem dropped his phone back on the grass as he turned his attention to his painting again. It only took a minute for someone else to interrupt, however. They bumped him so hard that Peem almost fell right into his easel.
"Hey!" he snapped, even as he flipped around to glare at—
A bangkaew. Its fluffy white body had splotches of warm russet brown, which also covered most of its head. Its tail, which would usually be curled up towards its back, was wagging back and forth. When it noticed it had Peem's attention, the dog gave a high yip, its tail wagging faster.
"Oh, hello," Peem greeted, even as he glanced around. "Where'd you come from?"
The dog was way too well-groomed to be a stray, but it also wasn't wearing a collar or leash of any kind. While Peem kept looking for anyone that seemed to have lost a pet, the bangkaew moved around him to sniff at the canvas.
"Hey!" Peem snapped once he noticed, throwing out his hands—one still holding the brush. The dog jolted back from the painting and whined, putting its head low to the ground. Peem put his brush down to reach toward the dog, more sedately this time. "It's okay, buddy. You're fine. You just can't touch the painting while it's wet."
The dog sniffed Peem's hand, then allowed him to start petting it around the ears. Its tail began to wag again and it quickly stood tall.
Peem smiled. "See? It's all good." The bangkaew's fur was incredibly soft and Peem wondered why he'd never asked his parents or aunt for a dog before.
The dog barked, jumping in place, and then bolted across Peem's legs. Perhaps it intended to land in Peem's lap, but in trying, its paws hit Peem's paint pallet. The pallet flipped into the air, landing right on the bangkaew's face. It made a startled sound and tried to back up, stepping on Peem's legs multiple times. Peem groaned in pain, even as he tried to wrap his arms around the dog to—help? Get it off faster? He didn't even know.
The dog's panicked movements sent it flailing right into Peem's canvas. The canvas toppled over onto the dog, which only scared it more. With another yelp, it bit at the canvas until the painting had fallen to the grass, then bolted away. In a matter of moments, Peem had gone from placidly painting to sitting in pain, his art supplies and his work lying face down in the dirt.
Shit. Maybe that was why he'd never gotten a dog.
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"Cheers!"
They all clacked their red cups together before tossing them back. As soon as he wasn't downing a drink, Q put his arm around Toey's shoulders again. The flush on Toey's cheeks was only partly due to the alcohol. Pun made to pour more alcohol in his cup as soon as he'd emptied it, but Chain took the bottle and instead handed Pun a cup of water, with a grumbled, "Pace yourself." Tan, meanwhile, took the bottle from Chain and started making some monster mixed drink.
"Hey, Peem," Pun said, motioning toward Peem's still mostly full cup. "Why aren't you drinking tonight?"
The others made noises of similar confusion. Peem grimaced. "I have to be up early tomorrow to finish my painting for Mr. Jitpisutsiri."
Q's eyebrows drew together. "I thought you would have finished it by now. You said it was going well."
Peem clicked his tongue and shifted in his seat. "It was, until a stray dog ruined it."
"A dog?" Chain asked.
A nod. "Mm. At first, it was just a really cute bangkaew, but then it got too playful and upended all my paints and ran into the canvas." He let out an annoyed huff. "Ruined the whole painting. I had to start all over." Leaning forward, Peem pointed at the ground between his feet. "Did you know I've barely slept since then in order to get this thing done on time?" He flopped back in his chair with a sigh and closed his eyes. "I'm so tired."
Leaning forward, Q clapped a hand on Peem's knee, making Peem meet his eyes. "Think of it this way," Q started. "It's just like every time you procrastinated your projects in college, so you've had practice." Peem flipped him off and Q smirked, sitting back again.
"A bangkaew?" Tan asked, sipping on whatever concoction he'd made.
"Mm," Peem said, grabbing his own cup to finally take a sip.
Tan hummed. "I know a guy," he said. "He was really worried a few days ago cause he said his dog was missing. Hold on." He shifted around to pull his phone from his pocket, clicked around for a bit, and then held up the screen toward Peem. "This bangkaew?"
Fluffy white body with splotches of warm russet brown, a mostly russet brown head, full, curled tail. Dogs could look really similar, and it had been a few days, but Peem was almost certain that was the same dog that he met in the park.
"Uh, that's it!" he said, pointing at the picture. "Did they find it?"
Tan nodded, pulling his phone back and swiping to a new picture. This one had a guy in it with deep eyes, a tall nose, and big lips, his black hair hanging into his eyes, one hand holding the camera and the other wrapped around the bangkaew from the other picture. He wasn't smiling, but his grip on the dog's fur was tight, like he might be worried the dog would get away again. The dog, itself, didn't seem to want to be in the photo.
"He sent me this the next day."
"Wow, Tan!" Pun exclaimed, pointing at the phone. "Your other friend is so attractive!"
Tan preened and wiggled in his seat as if Pun had complimented him. "Thank you. He's my future boyfriend."
Everyone groaned or made noises like 'sure, sure' at that. Tan dated people for less than two months and then broke up. He hadn't had a girl or boyfriend in two years, though. They'd all thought they were free of Playboy Tan.
"Anyway," Peem said, to stop Tan from waxing poetic about the guy. "Tell him to keep a better eye on his dog. Got it?"
Tan gave a salute. "Got it, Sir!" His faux serious attitude was broken by his wide smile.
"Oi oi oi," Q said loudly. "Tonight's a celebration of my boyfriend becoming a college senior." And he gave Toey a sniff kiss to the cheek that had Toey's eyes going wide and a beaming smile overtaking his face. "Less complaining about dogs and more complimenting him, got it?"
"Got it," they all intoned, and then Tan grabbed the nearest bottle of alcohol and called out, "Let's do shots!"
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TAN 🐶
- Oi
- Just a heads up. I gave your number to my friend.
- What? Why?
- He said the dog is actually his brother's dog and his brother wants to apologize for the trouble
- Ai Tan, don't just go around giving out numbers to people
- 5555
- What's his brother's number?
- I did not ask （〜^∇^ )〜
- What's his brother's name, at least?
- I know this one! Phum!
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…
Peem put one final stroke on the sunset picture of Doi Inthanon and then put his brush in the cup of paint water. Sitting back, he ran his eyes over the painting inch by inch, looking for anything he'd forgotten. But no, it was finished. It was done. Peem smiled even as he let out a relieved breath, feeling like he could properly breathe for the first time in days.
He'd finished the commission on time. Tomorrow, he could give Mr. Jitpisutsiri his painting without hesitation.
On the table, his phone began to vibrate with an incoming call. Peem picked it up and answered without taking his eyes off the painting.
"Mm. Hello?"
"I take it this is Peem?"
Well that was an unfamiliar, haughty voice. Frowning, Peem pulled the phone back to look at the caller ID, but it was an unknown number. "Who is this?"
"The owner of the bangkaew."
"Huh," Peem let out. What a coincidence. The guy called within minutes of Peem fixing what his dog had ruined. "What's your name?"
"Phum," he answered without hesitation.
That was the name Tan had given him, so the caller must actually be the dog's owner. Not a scam or anything. But then, "Let's have dinner."
"Huh?!" Peem's eyes went wide. "Dinner? Why?"
Even over the phone, Peem heard Phum sigh heavily, like Peem was tiresome. "To talk about what happened with my dog."
With the attitude he was giving over the phone, Peem didn't really want to meet this guy. "Let's just talk over the phone."
For a few moments, Phum didn't speak, and there was no background noise coming through the phone. Peem wondered if the call had dropped. Then, "Fine."
"Fine," Peem agreed.
"You got paint in my dog's eyes and mouth," Phum said like an attacking general. "You owe me vet bills."
A laugh startled out of Peem. "Like hell I do." He got up and walked toward his bed, away from the canvas before something tragic could happen to it again. "Your dog got paint in its own mouth and eyes. Not me."
"I wonder if that argument would hold up with the police," Phum mused idly.
Oh, this guy was an asshole. Peem pressed his lips together for a moment and took a steadying breath. It didn't really help. He was too over-tired for it to work. "You cannot honestly want to take this to the cops. Your dog got into my paint, ruined my work, and you want me to pay your vet bills. How about you pay me for the nights I haven't slept trying to fix what your dog did? Huh?"
He huffed out an unamused laugh as he began to pace the room. Bed to desk to bed to desk, careful to give the finished canvas a wide berth.
"You wanna talk about going to the police? Fine. I'll tell them you shouldn't own a dog. Because you let him get loose. But worse! He didn't even have a collar on, so even if someone managed to catch him, how would they get him home, huh? You're an irresponsible owner. And now you want me to pay the vet bills that wouldn't even exist if you were taking proper care of your dog."
Peem's labored breathing was the only noise in the following silence. The quiet went on long enough for him to realize that he'd just ranted—shouted—at a stranger over the phone, one who had already been threatening police action. One who could probably argue that he was a good pet owner, if the state of the bangkaew before it upended Peem's paint was any indication.
Shit.
Would Phum accept that Peem hadn't had a full night's sleep in almost a week as an excuse and let it go? Peem hit himself in the head a few times with his free hand.
"You're right."
Peem stopped hitting himself. "Huh?"
"I'm not home most of the day, so my dog is left alone for long periods of time," Phum admitted. "He probably got out because he was bored."
All the haughtiness had left Phum's tone and Peem had no idea what to do about that. Was he…not going to call the police on Peem?
"How about you come stay with him in my place?"
The conversation kept taking turns Peem couldn't predict. He was getting dizzy. "Say what?"
The haughtiness was back when Phum next spoke. "Spend a few hours at my house each day and take care of my dog when I can't. It's not like it's hard."
The laugh that slipped out of Peem this time was incredulous. "It's not—Are you out of your mind?" he asked. "I have a job."
"You're an artist. I know," Phum interrupted smoothly. "So paint at my place. There's a lot of natural light."
Peem shook his head. "No. No way."
"I'll pay you twenty dollars an hour."
Peem's brain screeched to a halt. Twenty dollars an hour. That was…That wasn't bad money just for agreeing to go paint in this guy's house. It was actually too good to be true.
"You're not gonna kill me and feed my body to your dog?"
"Are you watching a drama?" Phum asked, his tone as incredulous as Peem's had been earlier. "I've got more than enough money to spare, that's all."
Damn. Oh, Peem was going to regret this. He could not believe he was actually considering—
"Fine. I'll do it."
"Perfect!" Phum said brightly. "Are you free between noon and five each day?"
"Um, yeah," Peem said, even as he mentally checked his schedule. He helped Aunt Pui in the café in the mornings, but the rest of the day was given to his own paintings or painting commissions from clients.
"The door code is ten fifteen oh one and my dog's name is Khaophan. Send me your bank information and I'll wire you money each day once I get back. I'll use the door to know how long you stay each day."
Peem waved his free hand around even though Phum couldn't see him. "Wait wait wait. You don't want to meet me first?" What happened to getting dinner or something from earlier?
Phum let out an unconcerned sound. "I've heard enough about you. And if you do something to my dog or my apartment, well, the police are only a phone call away and I have lots of money."
The threat was said so flippantly that Peem wasn't sure he should take it seriously. He would, just in case. God, the longer he thought about it, the more insane this sounded. Being paid to go hang out in someone else's apartment just to keep their dog company? Peem was definitely going to end up dead, with his organs for sale on the black market.
Sighing, Peem asked, "What was the door code again?"
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tbc