Chapter 7

Pravat moves backward with his eyes fixed on Tiwa, who appears visibly uncomfortable and fidgety. He senses the tension emanating from Tiwa, feeling a surge of dominance as he recognizes the power he holds in this situation, relishing the control it offers him. Watching Tiwa fidget, he can't help but feel a sense of satisfaction at knowing he can make him so uneasy with just a simple look.

With a playful wink, he turns slightly and is taken aback to see the great Jaran Buathong standing there. It looks like today is going to be busier than he thinks it will be.

"Sorry," Jaran apologizes, and he walks past without realizing the impact of his presence.

Pravat becomes angry and frustrated that Jaran doesn't remember him. He clenches his fists and feels the familiar surge of resentment boiling within him. It has been years since their last physical altercation, but the wounds are still fresh in his mind. "You may have forgotten me, but I have not forgotten you. I will make you remember every single moment of pain you caused me." He takes a deep breath, trying to keep his emotions in check.

"How can this sorry be enough for me, Jaran?" He bites out.

Jaran stops in his tracks and turns back, quirking an eyebrow. He doesn't speak, but at the other's smirk, he somehow feels in the depths of his head who is standing in front of him, which hits square in his gut.

Pravat's smirk turns into a devilish grin that he knows everyone despises. It is an effective tool on its own to keep people at bay and make them recall whose path they are stepping into.

For some weeks in physical education, students had been practicing various sports, each having its own allure. Pravat loved it because it often led to fights in whichever sport they had chosen. It was a fun and physical mix that he enjoyed after Tiwa.

During that time, a contest was taking place in the field, so most of the students were cheering the participants there while he wandered around the gym, bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet.

Expectantly, Arthit, the bully of the school, had beaten a kid at the corner. Usually, he targeted individuals who were on a similar level to himself. However, on occasions that were few and far between, he would choose someone either larger or smaller than him just to see how they would fare. This particular incident was one of those rare occasions when he chose Kiat.

They fought fiercely, their fists landing hard blows on each other's bodies. Upon entering there, Pravat got Arthit's attention, who welcomed him to join in. Pravat appreciated and thought, Why not since he hadn't known who Kiat was? Frankly, he didn't care who he was going to fight with.

He smirked smugly and waited for Kiat to rise up, his eyes narrowing as he prepared to challenge him for strength. "Are you nervous, Kiat?" He asked, knowing the answer well.

Kiat, who had been usually quiet and irritated, weakly smiled and looked around at the small crowd that surrounded them. He felt a lack of energy and confidence in himself, but he couldn't back down, not in front of everyone. With a deep breath, he scoffed, "You wish, bitch."

A red haze had clouded Pravat's vision as he backed Kiat up into a corner, with anger simmering below the surface that threatened to boil over. The crowd, acting as the audience, hadn't cared about anything, just cheering them on before Kiat harshly pushed Pravat away.

Pravat balanced his foot in the middle and raised his arms, gloating in triumph.

With a roll of his eyes, Kiat stepped forward and hesitantly conjoined his hands with Pravat. They struggled for dominance, appearing as though they were engaged in a game of mercy. In a swift move, Kiat swiped out one of Pravat's legs, causing him to fall hard on the floor with a heavy thud.

Pravat growled in annoyance.

Kiat couldn't help but smirk as he stood tall, the competitive fire in his eyes burning brightly.

Pravat growled harder and kicked Kiat's knee, causing him to stumble back. With a smirk, he quickly flipped himself back up on his feet and lunged at Kiat, ending up on top of him. He captured Kiat's head in a headlock and groaned, "Fucking worthless piece of trash. I will break that mouth of yours that has called me 'bitch'."

"Fuck you!" Kiat exclaimed, trying to figure out how to counter and escape. The gym fell into a dead silence, as everything had happened so fast. Once again, he was cornered and received a barrage of punches. Despite trying to fight back, he struggled to land even a single hit. He could feel his vision beginning to blur as Pravat's fists rained down on him, each blow feeling like a hammer against his skull.

As the pain intensified, Kiat's heart pounded in his chest. Blood trickled from below his left eye as he found himself backed into a corner, shielding his head from Pravat's brutal blows. He understood he was no match for Pravat's strength and skill. In that moment of distress, his cousin, Jaran Buathong, suddenly appeared out of nowhere.

Jaran growled and locked eyes with Pravat, issuing a stern warning. "If you lay a hand on him again, I swear I will break those hands of yours and render them useless."

Pravat, seemingly unfazed, tauntingly challenged Jaran and struck him forcefully in the chest, unaware of who he was. "Oh, come on, do it. I'm like a fire! If you play with me, you will get burned. If you piss off someone like me, it will get you blown up, as such is my fiery nature."

Jaran clenched his fists, his eyes ablaze with fury, and his teeth grated. He could feel the anger bubbling within him, ready to engulf him entirely.

Before a fight could break out, the crowd separated into two, creating a path for the gym teacher, who despised any form of violence. By blowing a whistle, he commanded their attention. "Enough!"

Everyone froze, and the gym fell deadly silent.

"Pravat! Go to Mr. Paribatra's office." The enraged gym teacher ordered. When Pravat didn't budge, he repeated it with even more aggression. "Now!"

Groaning, Pravat shoved everyone out of his way and left the gym with a bunch of insulting slurs exiting his mouth.

At present, Pravat's dark brown eyes still connect with Jaran's brown eyes, which reflect a fiery determination amidst all of this chaos. There is no semblance of forgiveness or worry between either of them; only aggression and pure revenge remain.

Jaran loses control when he realizes who is standing in front of him. His face reddens with rage, but it isn't anything new. "You!" He growls, pointing a finger at Pravat. "I should have known you would show up sometime," he sneers, his voice laced with bitterness, as he reaches out to grab Pravat by the jacket, determined to settle everything that started ten years ago. However, Tiwa intervenes just in time, blocking his path and preventing a physical altercation from erupting.

Pravat chuckles and adjusts his jacket slightly, shaking his head. Nothing can stop him if he wants to do something. He ignores Tiwa and advances further into Jaran's space to whisper things he's longing to say. "I'm just like a fire, Jaran," he declares defiantly, his gaze unwavering. He smirks with satisfaction evident in his expression as he walks away.