The study hall's fluorescent lights hummed their flat, electric song, casting white on rows of scarred wooden desks that had held decades of elbows and doodles and desperate last-minute notes. Phuwin's forehead rested on his textbook, his pencil lying abandoned beside his ear, and the words in front of him had gone soft and meaningless twenty minutes ago. Across the table, Siyh was annotating something with sharp, precise strokes, her focus a quiet rebuke to his own wandering attention.
"I'm bored," Phuwin said into the pages of his book, the sound muffled by paper.
“You’re valedictorian and smartest out of all the students on campus.” Siyh said while sighing.
Siyh didn't look up. "Read it again. Maybe it'll become interesting."
"I've read it four times."
"Then read it a fifth."
He lifted his head just enough to glare at her. "You're not helpful."
Siyh's pen paused. She finally met his eyes, a smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. "What would be helpful? A distraction? A dancing monkey?"
"A nap."
"You slept eight hours. You told me yourself."
Phuwin groaned and let his head fall back down. The wood grain swam before his eyes, a map of nowhere he wanted to go. He was about to complain again when his phone buzzed against the desk—a sharp, insistent vibration that cut through the drone of the study hall.
He turned his head. The screen glowed with a name he'd set in his contacts last night, after the eighteenth goodnight text.
Baby ❤️💋
Something warm unfurled in his chest, quick and sweet as honey. He sat up, grabbed the phone, and answered before the second buzz could finish.
"Good morning, baby." His voice came out softer than he'd meant, the word baby still new on his tongue, still tasting like a secret he wasn't sure he was allowed to say out loud.
On the other end, Pond chuckled, a low rumble that vibrated through the speaker and landed somewhere in Phuwin's stomach. "Good morning, my beautiful artist. Did you sleep well?"
Phuwin felt his face heat. He ducked his head, letting his bangs fall forward to hide the pink flushing his cheeks. "I slept fine."
"Just fine? That's all?"
"What do you want me to say, that I dreamed about you?"
Pond's chuckle deepened, turned smug. "Did you?"
Phuwin pressed his lips together to stop the smile that wanted to break free. Across the table, Siyh had stopped pretending to study. She was watching him with a knowing, amused look, her chin propped on her hand.
"I'm hanging up," Phuwin said, but his voice had no heat in it.
"Don't. Please. I'll be good." Pond's tone shifted, softened, went earnest. "I'm picking you up in a few. I miss you. Can't wait to get my morning kisses and hugs."
The heat in Phuwin's face spread down his neck. He picked up his pencil and started tapping it against the desk—a nervous, rhythmless beat that matched the flutter in his ribs. "You'll get a smack on the head. That's all you're getting."
Pond laughed, loud and genuine, and even through the phone it was the sound Phuwin had fallen for—that easy, unguarded joy. "I'll take my chances. Everything okay? You sound… tired."
"I'm bored. Studying is boring. The textbook is boring. The lights are boring."
"Come on, you're the smart one. You top of the school."
"That doesn't mean I enjoy it."
Siyh snorted. Phuwin threw his pencil at her head without thinking. It bounced off her temple and clattered onto her notebook.
" Ow —what the hell, Phuwin!" She grabbed her head, scowling, but her eyes were laughing. She picked up the pencil and held it like a weapon. "I'm keeping this."
Phuwin stuck his tongue out at her, then turned back to the phone. "Sorry. Siyh was being annoying."
"I heard. You threw a pencil at her?" Pond's voice was warm, amused. "Should I be worried about what you'll throw at me?"
"Only if you deserve it."
"I'll behave. I promise. I'll be the perfect boyfriend."
Phuwin's fingers curled tighter around the phone. The word boyfriend hit him every time, a sweet, disorienting shock. "You better be."
Pond laughed again. "I'm leaving now. See you soon, baby."
"Tell me when you're here. I'll pack up."
"Yes, sir."
Phuwin ended the call before Pond could say anything else that would make his blush permanent. He set the phone down and took a breath, pressing his palms flat against the warm glass of the screen.
Siyh threw the pencil back at him. It bounced off his shoulder and landed in his lap.
"Calm down," she said, her voice flat but her grin wide. "You two only got together yesterday. You don't have to act like lovesick puppies already."
Phuwin picked up the pencil and pointed it at her. "You're one to talk. The way you act around Tai—'Babe, I love you so much, you're only mine.'" He pitched his voice high, syrupy, a perfect imitation of her cooing tone.
Siyh's eyes narrowed. "That's not the same."
"It's exactly the same."
"We've been dating for a year. You've been dating for a day."
"A day and a half," Phuwin corrected, grinning. "And I already have a painting of him and a public confession. What do you have? Hmm?"
"A Girlfriend who doesn't get jealous over every Guy or Girl who looks at me."
Phuwin's grin flickered, but he recovered. "Pond doesn't get jealous."
"He literally growled at Dice at the party."
"That was—that was different. Dice was being a dickhead."
"Sure." Siyh leaned back, crossing her arms. "If you say so."
Phuwin stuck his tongue out at her again, then mimicked her voice in a high, saccharine tone: "'Babe, I missed you so much, let me kiss you, don't look at anyone else.'"
Siyh's face flushed. She grabbed a pen and threw it at him. It missed and rolled under the desk. "Shut up."
"I win."
"You haven't won anything."
"I made you blush. That's a win."
Siyh opened her mouth, closed it, then mimicked him back—a perfect impression of his own voice, soft and dreamy: "'I love Pond so much, I even practiced for him with a toy.'"
Phuwin's face exploded with heat. He grabbed the textbook and held it up to hide his face, but the laughter was already spilling out of him, high and embarrassed and helpless. "That's—that's not fair!"
"What's not fair? I'm just repeating what you told me."
"You're twisting it!"
"Am I?"
He lowered the textbook, eyes wide, still laughing. "You're the worst. I hate you."
"You love me. I'm your best friend."
Phuwin wanted to argue, but the truth of it made him laugh harder. He let the book drop and leaned back in his chair, catching his breath. "Fine. But I still won the mimic war."
"You did not."
"I made you run out of material. That's a win."
Siyh opened her mouth to retort, then closed it. She tapped her fingers on the table, searching for a comeback, and found nothing. Her eyes narrowed. "I'll get you back later."
"You'll try."
He stuck his tongue out at her one more time, then raised both arms in a victory pose—fists punched into the air, a wide, triumphant grin on his face.
Siyh's eyes went wide.
"What?" Phuwin dropped his arms, frowning. "What's wrong?"
She didn't answer. Her gaze was fixed somewhere behind him, a strange, knowing smile curling her lips. Then she turned her face away, packing her notebook with quick, deliberate movements.
Phuwin opened his mouth to ask again, but before he could, arms wrapped around his waist from behind. Warm, solid, familiar. He smelled cologne and coffee and something clean like rain.
Pond's voice was a low murmur against the shell of his ear. "You definitely won."
Phuwin's entire body went still. The blush that had been threatening finally claimed him fully—cheeks, ears, even the tips of his fingers. "How long were you standing there?"
"Long enough." Pond's arms tightened, pulling him back against his chest. "I like your victory pose."
Siyh stood up, slinging her bag over one shoulder, her grin sharper than a knife. "Well, that's my cue to leave. Have fun, you two. Don't do anything I wouldn't do."
"That leaves a very narrow window," Phuwin managed, his voice strangled.
"Exactly." She winked at Pond, then jogged toward the study hall doors, her laughter trailing behind her. The heavy doors swung shut behind her, and the study hall fell quiet again, the buzz of the fluorescent lights the only sound.
Phuwin twisted in Pond's grip, enough to look up at him. His boyfriend stood there, still holding him, a soft, crinkling smile at the corners of his eyes. He wore a simple white t-shirt that stretched across his broad shoulders, his gold chain glinting at his collarbone, his hair still damp from a morning shower.
"You're here," Phuwin said, stupidly.
Pond's smile deepened. "I said I'd pick you up."
"I know. I just—" He bit his lip, his heart beating too fast. "I'm ready to go. Siyh keeps bothering me anyway."
"I saw." Pond chuckled, his hands sliding from Phuwin's waist up to his shoulders, a warm, grounding pressure. "She's good for you. Keeps you humble."
"She keeps me annoyed."
"Same thing." Pond leaned down, pressing a kiss to Phuwin's forehead, soft and unhurried. "Let's get you out of here. I have plans for our date."
Phuwin's stomach flipped. "What kind of plans?"
"The good kind. The kind that involve food and no textbooks."
"That's a good start."
Pond smiled, then bent to gather Phuwin's scattered books—the textbook, two notebooks, a pencil case, the stray pencil on the floor. He stacked them neatly and slid them into Phuwin's bag, then slung the bag over his own shoulder like it weighed nothing.
"Hey," Phuwin protested, standing up. "I can carry my own stuff."
"I know. But I want to." Pond held out his free hand, palm open, an invitation. "Let me take care of you today. Just today."
Phuwin looked at the offered hand—broad, warm, steady. He thought about all the years of wanting, all the weeks of dancing, the night in the alley, the confession in the hall, the painting that said everything he couldn't. And now here was Pond, in the flat white light of a boring study hall, offering to carry his bag and hold his hand.
He took it.
Pond's fingers curled around his, a perfect fit. He tugged Phuwin gently toward the doors, and Phuwin let himself be led, his steps light, his chest full.
The study hall doors swung open, and the morning sun hit them like a wall of warmth. Phuwin blinked, squinting, and Pond laughed beside him, a sound that belonged in the open air.
"Ready?" Pond asked.
Phuwin looked at him—at the way the light caught the edge of his jaw, at the smile that seemed meant only for him, at the hand holding his with a certainty he didn't have to question.
"Ready," he said, and meant it.