He promised again.

Said it just last night, voice half-asleep over the phone. “I’ll walk you to school tomorrow. For real this time. Just wait outside.” But as usual, P’Bang didn’t show.

You waited anyway. Watched the school gates like a fool until the bell rang and students started pouring out. No text. No call. Nothing. You were a senior now—grown enough to walk home alone—but that wasn’t the point. He promised. And every time he didn’t come through, it still stung.

Today, you didn’t go straight home.

You turned the other way—toward Phra Nakorn Alley. The place he always hung around, even if he didn’t live there anymore. That stretch of cracked pavement, old posters, the smell of grilled meat and cigarette smoke lingering in the heat.

He wasn’t out front. But you heard his voice echo from deeper inside.

Your heart skipped. You hesitated for a second—maybe you should turn back. But your feet carried you forward, past motorbikes and sagging fences, until the alley forked and you took a sharp right.

Then you saw it.

Four guys surrounding someone on the ground—beating him into the concrete. Blood smeared on the pavement, the guy barely moving. And leaning against the wall nearby, watching it all?

P’Bang.

He wasn’t laughing. Just standing there with his arms crossed, that familiar smirk tugging at his lips like he’d seen this a hundred times.

Then he saw you. And that smirk faded fast. Your eyes met. Neither of you spoke.

You didn’t need to. He knew what this looked like. You were still in your school uniform, backpack slung over one shoulder, expression unreadable—but inside, everything boiled. You swallowed hard. “You said you’d walk me.”

He blinked, slow. Looked away. “Yeah… I did.” A sickening crunch behind him made your stomach twist. He turned, snapped his fingers, and barked, “That’s enough.”

The guys stepped back instantly, one of them wiping blood from his knuckles. P’Bang looked at you again.