Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Muenfah staggered along the quiet street, laughter spilling from his lips.

“P’Fah, don’t run,” Teerak called behind him, voice half-worried, half-amused. “You’re already so drunk you can’t even walk straight.”

“I am walking straight… I think,” Muenfah said, trying to keep his balance as he traced an unsteady line along the sidewalk. Maybe he wasn’t walking straight at all, but he was too happy to care. Years of studying and sacrificing were finally paying off. For the first time, he could really picture a future.

“No, you’re not,” Teerak said, quickening his pace until he caught up and slipped an arm around Muenfah’s to steady him. Warmth spread through Muenfah’s chest at the simple touch, and he giggled softly.

“I’m proud of you, P’Fah,” Teerak murmured. “I know how hard you worked to get that job at the law firm. My boyfriend is officially a lawyer now.”

Muenfah glanced at him and felt like he was falling in love all over again. They’d only been dating for a month, but he already knew Teerak was the one. He’d known even before their first date—before Teerak had spilled coffee on his shirt, before he had asked for his number to patch things up.

Maybe one day he’d tell him the truth: that he’d been in love with him since the first day of college, watching him from afar, never daring to believe hisstar would notice him. And yet he had. Now Muenfah had no intention of letting him go.

“Teerak…” Muenfah looped his arm over the other man’s shoulder and pressed a quick kiss to his lips. “Do you want to know my secret three-year plan?”

Teerak chuckled. “Secret three-year plan? What’s that?”

“Shhh. Don’t shout out my secret like that,” Muenfah whispered. “I’m only telling you because I love you. But you have to promise not to tell anyone else.”

“I promise,” Teerak said. “What is it?”

“In three years…” Muenfah tilted his head back to look at the sky. The moon hung pale and high above the empty streets. They’d celebrated his new job all night; now the city had gone still around them. “In three years, I want to become the youngest partner at the law firm, get a big apartment in Bangkok with a bedroom bigger than the house I grew up in, buy a car that makes people envious and…”

“And?”

“And I want to marry you.”

Teerak blinked at him. “P’Fah, are you seriously telling me you want to marry me on our one-month anniversary while you’re this drunk and stumbling home?”

“No, I’m not asking you to marry me,” Muenfah said quickly, shaking his head. “Not yet. I’m just telling you I want to marry you someday. Because I love you. And nothing else matters more to me than you.”

Teerak smiled and kissed him, a soft brush of lips that lingered. “So I don’t even get a chance to ask you to marry me first?”

“Well…” Muenfah shrugged, grinning. “You missed your chance, I guess.”

A loud horn cut through the early-morning quiet.

“Is it five already?” Muenfah squinted at the road. “The buses have started. Let’s catch one. I don’t want to waste money on a taxi right now.”

He broke into a run toward the bus stop, laughter trailing behind him.

“Wait, P’Fah!” Teerak called. “Stop running!”

“Catch me if you can!”

“P’Fah, please—watch out for the pole!”

Muenfah looked back over his shoulder at Teerak, still smiling. “I’m watching—”

The word ended in a gasp. A sharp pain. Then everything went black.

“P’Fah?”

“Muenfah?”

“Are you okay?”

Chapter Text

⸻

“Mr. Phisut?”

“Mr. Phisut, can you hear me?”

A voice drifted through the haze. Muenfah opened his eyes slowly to a white ceiling and bright lights. A doctor and two nurses were standing over him, their faces calm but alert.

He blinked. Where was he? Why did everything hurt?

“Mr. Phisut, can you hear me? Are you in any pain?”

“I… I think so,” he murmured. “My head hurts a little.”

“All right,” the doctor said gently. “We’ll give you something for the pain. You have some cuts on your right arm from broken glass and a sprained left ankle, but nothing more serious. Can you tell me your full name and today’s date?”

Muenfah hesitated, then answered automatically. “I’m Muenfah Pradipat Phisut. It’s… July 5th, 2022. Thank goodness it’s Sunday. I can’t miss my lectures tomorrow.”

The doctor’s eyes flickered. “I see. And how old are you, Mr. Phisut?”

“Twenty-two. Do you need my information for insurance?”

The doctor shook his head. “No, we already have your insurance details. Can you tell me the last thing you remember?”

“I was out drinking with my friends,” Muenfah said slowly. “My boyfriend and I were heading home when I hit my head on a pole near the bus stand.” A sudden thought jolted him upright. “Oh—that reminds me. My boyfriend must be waiting outside. Could you ask him to come in? He’s probably worried sick.”

“Mr. Phisut, please lie back down,” the doctor said quietly. “There’s something you need to know.”

Muenfah’s heart began to pound. “What? Did I hurt my head badly?”

“Not exactly. Your scans look normal. But… Mr. Phisut, you’re not twenty-two. You’re twenty-five. And it’s not July 5th, 2022—it’s July 5th, 2025. It appears you’ve lost the memory of the past three years.”

Muenfah stared at him. “Wait—what do you mean it’s 2025? Have I been in a coma for three years? Oh God…”

“No, no,” the doctor said quickly. “You were brought in last night after a minor car accident. You were in a taxi that had a small collision. You weren’t in a coma; you have a mild concussion, and sometimes that causes temporary memory loss. We’ll do more tests, but in most cases it improves.”

“This doesn’t make any sense,” Muenfah whispered. “Please—just call my boyfriend. I need to see him.”

“I’m not sure who your boyfriend is, Mr. Phisut,” the doctor replied. “There’s only your personal assistant outside. We contacted him because he’s listed as your emergency contact.”

“My… my what?!” Muenfah blinked. “I have a personal assistant?”

“Yes.” The doctor reached for a sealed packet on the side table. “These are your belongings from last night. They might help jog your memory. In the meantime, I’ll arrange another round of scans.”

The doctor kept speaking, but Muenfah hardly heard him. His attention was fixed on the packet in his lap. Inside lay a heavy watch— a Rolex, gleaming, probably worth more than his parents’ house. His name was engraved on the back.

A Rolex. With his name on it.

This couldn’t be real. Maybe he had hit his head so hard he was trapped in some strange dream where every wish came true.

All right, Fah, think rationally. Is this really a dream? He pinched his arm. It hurt.

He reached for the phone beside the watch. It wasn’t his old secondhand iPhone. This one was larger, sleeker, gleaming. There was a number lock, but he could still open the camera.

He lifted it and stared at his reflection.

The boyish twenty-two-year-old from college was gone. In his place stared someone older, sharper, with tired eyes and a heavy expression—as if the weight of the world had settled onto his shoulders.

Muenfah looked at the nurse. “Can I have today’s newspaper, please?”

She handed it to him, and at first glance, it seemed ordinary. But the headlines made no sense to him. A new Prime Minister. Different judges on the Supreme Court. Climate change agreements he didn’t remember. Even a verdict about a bridge accident he had never heard of. If this was still a dream, it wouldn’t come with so many details.

He reached for his wallet next. The leather carried the Louis Vuitton logo, and paired with the Rolex on his wrist, it didn’t look like a fake. Inside was more money than he had ever held in his life—more than he’d spent in an entire year. A few credit cards. A diamond ring that looked expensive but painfully tacky. And a sleek business card with his name printed on it:

Muenfah Pradipat Phisut

Junior Partner

Phantrakul and Associates

Muenfah stared at the name. Who exactly are you, Muenfah Pradipat Phisut?

Chapter Text

Muenfah stared at the visiting card in his hand, then at his phone. To double-check, he opened the calendar app. The date flashed: July 5, 2025. His entire schedule was crammed with color-coded meetings and appointments that meant nothing to him.

10:00 a.m. – 2:00 p.m.: The KGI Merger meeting

7:00 p.m.: Story Café

9:00 p.m.: Engagement party

An engagement party? Whose engagement party?

“No… no, I have to find Teerak first.”

He shut the calendar and searched his phone. Contacts, messages, emails, photos—he scrolled through all of them. Nothing. Not a single trace of Teerak. It was as if he had never existed.

“Mr. Phisut? Are you alright?” The doctor’s voice startled him.

“Uh… what time was I brought in? And… was there another phone with me? Apart from this one?” Muenfah asked, trying to keep calm. Maybe this was just a work phone. People kept their lives separate all the time.

“Around 7:30 p.m.,” the doctor replied. “No, there was only this phone, though we did find a blue file folder among your things. It was empty. If you still can’t recall anything, I’d suggest you remain here longer. We can run more scans, perhaps have you see a psychiatrist. But if your memory begins to return little by little, it may simply be a concussion.”

“I’m fine. I remember everything,” Muenfah lied quickly. “It must have been a small concussion. I’d just like to go home.”

Home. The word felt hollow. He had no idea where that even was now. But he couldn’t stay here. He needed to find Teerak.

“Should we call your assistant in?” the doctor asked.

“My… assistant?”

“Yes. I believe his name is Oh. Do you remember him?”

“Yes, of course. Oh!”

Maybe Oh would know something. Maybe he could lead him to Teerak.

Moments later, a young man entered the room. He looked close to Muenfah’s age—or at least, the age Muenfah still felt he should be. The assistant’s face was pale with panic.

“Mr. Phisut, are you alright? I’m so sorry!” Oh blurted out in one breath. “It’s my fault. I was late finishing the KGI merger files, and you insisted on taking a taxi to your engagement party. I should have been there. I’m so, so sorry.”

Muenfah froze. Engagement party? The ring in his wallet—did it actually belong to him? Did Teerak… propose with that? No. He couldn’t believe it. Not with that gaudy ring.

But this wasn’t the time to think about jewelry. He’d marry Teerak with a paper ring if he had to. What mattered was finding him.

“Wait,” he asked quickly, “so is Teerak at the party too? Did you tell him I had an accident?”

“Teerak? Who’s that?”

“Teerak Rak Niran,” Muenfah pressed, irritation creeping in. “You’re my assistant. How can you not know this?”

Oh blinked. “Niran? Is he… a new client? I’ve never heard of him before.”

The words left Muenfah stunned. If Oh didn’t know Teerak, then who was he engaged to?

“Sir, are you sure you’re alright? I’ve already informed Mr. Phantrakul about your accident. Everyone was waiting for you at the hotel, and they were worried when you didn’t show.”

The name clicked. Phantrakul—the name on the business card. His boss. But why would his boss be concerned about him missing an engagement party?

Fah… you didn’t really climb the ladder that way, did you?

He forced a smile at Oh, hoping to draw answers from him. If anyone knew the truth, it was this boy.

“Oh, could you help me with something?”

Oh froze. “Sir, are you… smiling? And did you just say please? I’ve never seen you do that before. You must have hit your head hard.”

I never smile?

“No, no, it’s just… facial exercises. Doctor’s orders.” He quickly schooled his expression into something more serious. “First—did you inform my family?”

“Your family? I’m sorry, Sir, I don’t have their contacts. Since you didn’t even invite them to the engagement, I thought you weren’t close.”

Muenfah’s chest tightened. “Do you have the guest list for the party?”

“Yes, I kept the final list.”

“Email it to me. Then tell the doctor my memory’s fine, but I still have a headache—get me some painkillers, the paperwork, and we’ll leave. You can drive me home. And about the The KGI Merger—how long will it take?”

Oh stiffened at the question. “It’s already done, Sir. The file is in the car. I’ll take care of your discharge right away.”

Muenfah sat alone in the hospital room, staring blankly at the screen of his phone. Oh's email had arrived, and with it, the guest list for his supposed engagement party. He scrolled through the names carefully, one by one. Not a single person was familiar.

He frowned. He wasn’t close to his parents, true, but to not invite them—or any of his old friends—felt unthinkable. Something about it all was wrong.

He got up and went to the bathroom. For the first time, he faced himself in the mirror with intent. The reflection staring back wasn’t the cheerful, hopeful boy he remembered. His eyes were tired, weighed down, almost haunted. He looked older, lonelier. Even in hospital clothes, with cuts on his forehead and arm, he looked more miserable than he ever had in college.

“What happened to you, Muenfah?” he whispered to himself. “You got the job you wanted. You’re rich now. So why do you look more broken than before?”

Back on the bed, he forced himself to list out the facts he had gathered so far:

• Junior partner at a major law firm.

• Connected closely with the boss.

• Wealthy.

• Estranged from family.

• Engaged—to someone who wasn’t Teerak.

His stomach tightened. Who was he engaged to?

He searched his boss’s name online. Article after article confirmed it:

Mr. Phantrakul was a renowned lawyer, sixty-two years old, head of Phantrakul and Associates, divorced, with a daughter.

Panic pricked his chest. No. Surely not. I didn’t get engaged to him…

Then his eyes landed on a fresher article. His breath caught as he read it aloud.

“Phantrakul announces the engagement of his… daughter?” He blinked, scrolling quickly to confirm.

The piece was clear: Joy Phantrakul, his boss’s daughter, was newly engaged to a “talented rising lawyer” at the firm.

His phone buzzed before he could process the thought.

Joy Phantrakul [09:24pm]: Heard you got into an accident. Talked to Dad and canceled the party. Not like I cared much anyway. We’ll reschedule. Take care.

Muenfah shot to his feet, pacing the room. “Okay, good news—I’m not marrying a sixty-year-old man. Bad news—I’m marrying his twenty-four-year-old daughter, who clearly doesn’t like me… and I don’t like her. So why did I agree to this at all?”

“Mr. Phisut? Were you saying something?”

Oh slipped back into the room. Muenfah quickly straightened, forcing the cold, composed mask he thought a lawyer should wear.

“Nothing. Just wondering why simple tasks take you so long,” he said coolly.

“I—I’m sorry, sir. It’s done. I also brought you some clothes since your suit was ruined.”

For a moment, guilt tugged at him. Oh had been helpful all night, quietly holding things together while Muenfah’s world unraveled. He deserved thanks. Maybe one day, Muenfah thought, he’d find the courage to give it. But not today. Today, he had to keep pretending.

He changed quickly, gathered his things, and followed Oh toward the parking lot. His steps slowed. He didn’t even know what car belonged to him. When Oh finally stopped in front of a sleek black Porsche and unlocked it, Muenfah nearly froze.

What did you do to get this rich, Fah?

“Sir, should I drive? Your ankle…”

“Yes,” Muenfah answered too quickly. He didn’t know how to handle that car—or where “home” even was.

Inside, Oh tapped the navigation screen. The word “Home” glowed on the display.

As they drove, Bangkok passed by outside the window, both familiar and unfamiliar. The buildings, the lights, even the way people dressed had shifted in three short years he could not remember. And Teerak—his Teerak—was still missing.

He should see a doctor. A psychiatrist. But who could he trust? Not yet. Not until he found someone he could rely on.

“Sir?” Oh’s voice broke through his thoughts. “If you don’t mind me asking something…”

“What is it?”

“I spoke with the taxi company. They said you took the cab from 18th Street. Ten minutes later, the accident happened.”

“So?”

“Well… 18th Street is far from both the office and the hotel. Were you meeting a client?”

Muenfah turned sharply. “Where did they say I was?”

“Story Café. Across from that vintage shop, Little Keepsakes.”

His chest tightened. He remembered. Story Café—7 p.m.—was on his calendar. No name attached, only the location.

He stared down at his phone, gripping it tightly. Who did I meet there?

“Sir?” Oh asked again gently. “Are you alright?”

Muenfah forced a smirk. “Yeah. Just wondering who names a shop ‘Little Keepsakes.’”

Oh chuckled nervously. “Strange name, but popular. I bought records there once—the owner’s great with recommendations.”

“That’s nice,” Muenfah muttered, but his mind was elsewhere. Why was I at Story Café before my own engagement party? Why the ring in my wallet instead of on my finger? Did I even want this engagement at all?

Oh glanced at him again. “So, sir… did you meet someone there?”

Muenfah’s throat went dry. “Where?” he asked, feigning ignorance.

“Story Café.”

Muenfah leaned back in his seat, watching the city crawl by through the window. “I had some work there that needed to be done. Can you drive a little faster? Forty kilometers per hour isn’t really enough.”

“I—I’m sorry.” Oh’s hands tightened on the wheel. “I’m still not used to driving your car. Honestly, I’m just a small-town guy, and this car probably costs more than my parents’ house. I get nervous sometimes.”

Muenfah studied him, and for a moment, it was like looking into a mirror of his younger self—eager, uncertain, full of dreams. Maybe once, he had been like that too. But now, he had no memory of how he had gone from riding the bus with Teerak to sitting in the backseat of a Porsche.

Oh spoke again, his voice soft but earnest. “You know, Sir, I’m really thankful you chose me over all those applicants from wealthy families and big schools. I’m just a kid from the province with big dreams, and you’ve shown me it’s possible. You’ve been a real inspiration to me.”

“It hasn’t been that long since you’ve worked with me, right?” Muenfah asked.

Oh chuckled. “Two months. But it feels like longer.”

By then, they had entered a gated community filled with gleaming towers, glass balconies reflecting the city lights. Wealth clung to every corner. They parked, and once again, Muenfah let Oh lead—he still didn’t know where he was going.

The elevator carried them to the 22nd floor.

“Sir, please,” Oh said, gesturing for him to step out first.

“You go ahead,” Muenfah replied smoothly. “My ankle’s still sore.”

Oh nodded and led the way until he stopped at apartment 2205. He hesitated, glancing back.

“What is it, Oh?”

“The passcode, Sir. I don’t know it. You’ll have to enter it.”

Muenfah froze. Of course. How could he know the code to a home he couldn’t even remember?

Hiding his unease, he forced a steady tone. “It’s fine. I’ll handle it. You can go.”

“But Sir, I can at least bring your things in—”

“Leave them here. It’s been a long day. Goodnight.” His voice carried the practiced weight of authority. It worked. Oh bowed politely and left.

The hallway grew still. Alone now, Muenfah stared at the keypad, his pulse quickening.

“Alright,” he murmured. “Let’s try this.”

His birthday didn’t work.

His mother’s birthday didn’t work.

Even his father’s failed.

With a long breath, he tried one last date—Teerak’s birthday.

The lock clicked open.

Inside, the apartment stretched wide and modern, with high ceilings and a dazzling view of the Bangkok skyline. But Muenfah’s eyes didn’t go to the city.

They landed on a picture hanging on the wall.

At first glance, it was nothing special—just a boy facing the sunset, sky painted gold. But to him, it was everything.

It was Teerak.

The very first photo he had ever taken of him, back when they were still strangers. Teerak hadn’t even known he existed then, but Muenfah had seen him—quiet, waiting, haloed by the evening light. On impulse, he had captured it. That moment had been the start of everything.

His throat tightened as he stepped inside. “Rak…” His voice was soft, almost a whisper. “Rak, are you here?”

He let the question linger in the empty air, his gaze still fixed on the photo.

“Teerak…”

The name left his lips like a prayer, tender and aching, as though speaking it aloud could summon him back.