Six days since the bakery. Six days since Pond's thumb traced circles on his knuckle in the morning light, since Phuwin let himself believe the waiting was over. Six days of texts that came too fast and calls that lasted too long and a new, strange rhythm between them — not quite together, not quite apart. Talking stage. That was the word Phuwin used when Siyh asked, her eyebrow arched over her coffee cup. Talking stage. Like they were teenagers passing notes instead of two grown men who'd already kissed under a streetlamp at 3 AM.
The cafeteria's fluorescent hum hadn't changed. Neither had the cold press of the metal table against his forearms, or the way the air hung thick with fried oil and floor cleaner. Santa sat across from him, glasses pushed up, a textbook open but ignored. Jungk scrolled through his phone beside him, one earbud in. Siyh was picking at a pastry, watching Phuwin with that look she got when she was about to say something he didn't want to hear — the kind of quiet that sharpens before a cut.
"So." She bit into the pastry, chewed, swallowed. "How many girls asked you about him today?"
Phuwin didn't look up from his coffee. "I don't count."
"I do." Santa turned a page he hadn't read. "Eight yesterday. Twelve today. One of them asked if he had a girlfriend. Asked if you knew. Asked if you could put in a good word."
Phuwin's jaw tightened. The coffee was bitter, but he drank it anyway. "I told her I'd mention it."
Siyh snorted. "Did you?"
No. He hadn't. Because every time one of them asked — eyes bright, voice hopeful, gesturing toward the corner of the courtyard where Pond stood with his crowd of admirers — something in Phuwin's chest pulled tight. Not jealousy. Not exactly. Something older. Something that remembered being the one who wanted more.
"It's not a big deal," he said. "We're not—"
"Talking. We know." Santa's voice was dry, comfortable. "You've mentioned."
Phuwin set his cup down harder than he meant to, coffee sloshing over the rim. Santa didn't flinch. Siyh's lips curved, a slow, knowing smile that made Phuwin want to throw his napkin at her.
Before she could say anything worse, a voice cut through the cafeteria noise — a staff assistant, name badge glinting, standing at the edge of their table. "Phuwin? The principal wants to see you."
Phuwin blinked. "Now?"
"Now." She was already turning. "New student orientation. Your name came up."
He stood, grabbing his bag. Siyh raised an eyebrow, but he shrugged, waved them off. "Probably just another tour. I'll be back."
He didn't see the way Santa's eyes narrowed behind his glasses. Didn't see Jungkook look up from his phone, a flicker of recognition crossing his face before he hid it. He just followed the assistant through the cafeteria's swinging doors, down the hall where the fluorescent lights buzzed louder, past the bulletin boards layered in flyers, toward the principal's office with its half-open door and the shape of someone standing inside.
The principal was a slight woman with graying hair and a voice that carried authority without raising. She smiled as Phuwin entered, gestured him in. "Ah, Phuwin. Good. I have someone for you."
She stepped aside, and Phuwin saw him.
The world went quiet.
He was older now — broader, sharper, the soft edges of high school honed into something harder. Broad shoulders filled out a black jacket. Arms that strained the fabric, thick and defined, almost like Pond's but not quite — Pond was bigger, denser, but this was close. Close enough. Dark hair, deep-set eyes, a jaw that had sharpened into a line that made Phuwin's breath catch in a way he'd almost forgotten.
Dice smiled.
It was the same smile. The one from two years ago, from the night before he left, from the text that said I'll be back before you know it — a text Phuwin had read so many times the screen had worn thin.
"Hey, Phuwin." His voice was deeper. Warm. Familiar. "Missed me?"
Phuwin's mouth opened. Nothing came out. His cheeks burned, a heat that crawled up his neck and settled in his ears, and he hated how obvious it was, how Dice could probably see it from across the room. He swallowed. Tried again. "You're—" His voice cracked. He cleared his throat. "You're here."
"I'm here." Dice stepped forward, arms opening. "Come here."
Phuwin moved before he decided to. He crossed the small office and let Dice pull him in — arms wrapping around him, one hand cradling the back of his head, the other pressed flat against his spine. Dice was bigger than he remembered. Warmer. He smelled different, too — something clean and expensive, not the old hoodie scent Phuwin had stored in his memory. But the way he held on was the same. Tight. Sure. Like he'd never let go.
Phuwin's hands found Dice's jacket, fisted the fabric. His face pressed into Dice's shoulder, and for a second he let himself breathe.
"You're okay?" Dice asked, quiet, into his hair.
Phuwin nodded against him. "I'm okay." The words came out muffled, rough. He pulled back, wiped at his eyes with the back of his hand, laughed at himself. "I'm fine. I'm—" He laughed again, wetter than he meant. "When did you get back?"
"Yesterday. Wanted to surprise you." Dice's hands stayed on his shoulders, warm and heavy. His eyes swept over Phuwin's face — the soft curve of his jaw, the fall of his bangs, the slight flush that hadn't faded. "You look good." His voice dropped, just a little. "Really good."
Phuwin's blush deepened. He looked away, at the principal who was pretending very hard to read a file at her desk. "I should—" He gestured vaguely toward the door. "I can take him to the cafeteria. Show him around."
The principal waved them off without looking up. "Go. You're excused."
Dice's arm slid around Phuwin's waist as they walked out — a casual, familiar weight that settled at the small of his back, fingers curling against his hip. Phuwin's stomach flipped. He kept walking.
"So," Dice said as they stepped into the hallway, "you been good? Actually good?"
"I told you. I'm fine."
"You always say that."
Phuwin shot him a look. Dice just smiled, that same infuriating, fond smile that had made Phuwin fall for him in the first place. The one that said I know you better than you know yourself. And maybe he did. Maybe that was the problem.
The walk to the cafeteria was short. Too short. Dice's hand stayed on his waist, thumb tracing absent shapes through the fabric of his hoodie. Every brush of skin sent a current through Phuwin's nerves, made him hyperaware of the space between them, the way their steps matched, the way Dice leaned down to murmur something about a joke he'd heard on the plane.
The cafeteria doors swung open, and the noise hit them — trays clattering, voices overlapping, the hiss of the coffee machine. Phuwin led Dice across the room, past the tables, toward the corner where his friends were still sitting. Siyh saw them first. Her eyes went wide, then sharper, then her face broke into a grin that made Phuwin's stomach drop.
"Dice?"
She was up before he could stop her, chair scraping back. She pushed past Phuwin — literally shoved him aside — and threw herself at Dice, arms locking around his neck. Dice laughed, caught her, spun her once before setting her down.
"You're back!" Siyh pulled back, smacked his shoulder. "You asshole. You didn't tell anyone you were coming."
"Surprise." Dice's grin was easy, indulgent. "Missed you too."
"Phuwin's been moping for months." Siyh's voice was loud. Deliberate. "Crying into his boba, talking about how much he missed you—"
"I did not—"
"—saying your name in his sleep—"
"Siyh!" Phuwin's face was on fire. He smacked the back of her head, light but pointed. "Stop."
She just laughed, dodging his second swing. Santa had stood too, hand extended. Dice shook it, pulled him into a quick one-armed hug. Jungkook nodded from his seat, a small smile on his face — the kind that said he'd known something was coming.
Dice settled into the seat beside Phuwin — close, thigh brushing his under the table. He leaned back, stretched his arms over his head, let his jacket ride up just enough to show a strip of stomach. Phuwin looked away. Looked back. Hated himself for both.
"So." Dice's elbow found the table, his chin resting on his palm. "Catch me up. What'd I miss?"
Siyh opened her mouth. Phuwin kicked her under the table. She yelped, glared at him, and he smiled — sweet, innocent, a warning in his eyes. She shut her mouth, but the grin didn't leave.
Santa was the one who answered, dry and even. "Phuwin's been busy. New student orientations, mostly. Showing people around."
Dice's eyebrow lifted. "Yeah? That why you look so tired?"
Phuwin opened his mouth to answer, but Siyh cut in, her voice saccharine. "And he's been talking to someone. A lot." She drew out the word like taffy. "Talking."
Phuwin's hand stilled on his coffee cup.
Dice's gaze flickered. "Talking?"
"It's nothing." Phuwin's voice came out flat. "We're just—it's a talking stage. That's all."
Dice watched him for a beat too long. Then he smiled, easy again, and let it drop. But his hand found Phuwin's knee under the table — a brief, warm press, there and gone — and something in the gesture made Phuwin's throat tighten.
Across the cafeteria, near the vending machines, a group of students shifted. A tall figure leaned against the wall, arms crossed, watching.
Pond had seen them come in.
He'd seen the arm around Phuwin's waist. Seen the way Phuwin blushed, the way he leaned into the touch like it was muscle memory. Seen the new man — older, built, confident — slide into the seat beside him like he belonged there.
Taehyung materialized beside him, two coffees in hand. He followed Pond's gaze, let out a low whistle. "Who's that?"
Pond didn't answer. His jaw was set, his thumb pressing hard into the lid of his coffee cup.
"Pond." Taehyung's voice dropped. "You good?"
"Fine." The word was short. Hard.
Taehyung studied him, then looked back at the table where Dice was leaning close to Phuwin, saying something that made him laugh — a real laugh, head tipped back, eyes crinkling. The kind of laugh Pond had only seen twice in six days. "Looks like Phuwin's got a crush."
Pond's chest went tight.
"You sure he's yours?" Taehyung asked, quiet. Not mean. Just asking.
Pond's coffee cup cracked under his grip. Liquid seeped through the seam, warm against his fingers. He didn't feel it. He was watching Dice's hand rest on Phuwin's knee — a casual, intimate weight — and the way Phuwin didn't move it away.
"Hold this." He shoved the leaking cup at Taehyung, who sighed, caught it, juggled it alongside his own.
"Pond—"
"Set you up with Jungkook for a night."
Taehyung's mouth snapped shut. He looked at the cup in his hand, at Pond's back as he walked away, at the table where Dice was still touching Phuwin. He sighed again, deeper this time, and settled in to watch.
Pond crossed the cafeteria floor. Students parted around him — a few girls called his name, but he didn't turn. His eyes were locked on the table, on the back of Phuwin's head, on the curve of his neck where his bangs fell. On the man whose hand was still on his knee.
He reached the table just as Dice said something that made Siyh cackle. Phuwin was smiling, shoulders loose, relaxed in a way Pond had rarely seen him.
Then Phuwin looked up.
The smile flickered. Shifted. Became something guarded.
Pond's hand found Phuwin's waist — a claim, deliberate, the press of his palm against the curve of his hip. But Phuwin's hand came up, caught his wrist, pushed it away.
"Pond." Phuwin's voice was calm. "Not now."
Something in Pond's chest cracked. He kept his face neutral, his voice light, but his eyes were on Dice. "Hi." He said it in Thai, the word sharp at the edges. "Weird seeing a new kid so close to Phuwin already. Like he isn't already claimed."
The table went quiet.
Phuwin's eyes flashed. "Pond. Stop."
Pond didn't look at him. He was staring at Dice — at the way Dice's hand was still on Phuwin's knee, at the way he met Pond's gaze without flinching. "I'll go after I get some type of agreement on this man. To stop touching my claimed man."
Phuwin stood, chair scraping back. "No one claimed me." His voice was low, controlled, but his hands were trembling. "You need to go back to your friends. Back to your crowd of fangirls who actually want your attention."
Pond's jaw tightened. "Phuwin—"
"Go." Phuwin pushed at his chest — firm, not hard, but enough to make him step back. "I'll text you later."
It was the same thing he'd said every other time. And every time, Pond had waited. But this time, Phuwin was already turning away, already gathering his bag, already reaching for Dice's hand.
"Come on." Phuwin's voice was softer now, meant for Dice. "Let's get you registered."
Dice stood slowly, his arm finding Phuwin's waist again — a possessive curve that mirrored Pond's but was welcomed. He looked at Pond over Phuwin's head, a flicker of something in his eyes. Not quite a challenge. Not quite a smirk. Just a look that said I know exactly what I'm doing.
Phuwin pulled him away, toward the cafeteria doors. Dice's hand stayed on his hip, fingers curled into the fabric of his hoodie, and Phuwin let him.
Pond stood at the empty table, the fluorescent hum loud in his ears. Siyh was watching him, expression unreadable. Santa had gone back to his textbook, but his eyes were sharp behind his glasses. Jungkook was typing something on his phone.
The cafeteria doors swung shut behind Phuwin and Dice, and Pond didn't move.
Taehyung appeared beside him, silent, holding out a napkin for the coffee still dripping from Pond's fingers. "You want to talk about it?"
Pond took the napkin. Wiped his hand. Crushed it.
No.
He didn't.
But he stayed standing there, staring at the doors, long after they'd stopped swinging.