Phuwin had stopped counting the days. That was the trick, wasn't it? If you stopped counting, then time wasn't really passing. If you stopped counting, then the empty space beside him in every class, every meal, every quiet moment, wasn't really a void. It was just... space.

But his phone told a different story. The screen glowed with the evidence of his own desperation—forty-three calls, each one declining or unanswered, the timestamps stretching across a week that felt like a year. He scrolled through them now, sitting on the low concrete wall outside the art building, his thumb moving mechanically over the familiar contact photo. Pond's smile. That stupid, beautiful smile that made Phuwin's chest ache in ways he couldn't name.

"Hey."

Give's voice came from somewhere to his left, soft and careful, like he was approaching a wounded animal. Phuwin looked up, and Give was already settling onto the wall beside him, close enough that their shoulders almost touched. "You've been staring at that phone for twenty minutes."

Phuwin's jaw tightened. "I haven't—"

"You have." Give's voice was gentle, but his eyes were steady. "I was watching from the steps. You keep scrolling up and down like something's going to change if you look at it enough."

Phuwin wanted to argue. He wanted to say that he was fine, that he was just checking something, that Give was imagining things. But the words died in his throat, and instead he just let out a breath that shuddered on the way out. "I haven't heard from him. Not once. Not since—" He stopped, the words catching like thorns.

"Since the fight." Give finished it for him, and Phuwin nodded, his eyes fixed on the cracked pavement beneath his shoes.

"He hasn't been to university all week. Not once. I keep looking for him in the yard, in the cafeteria, in the hallways. I keep thinking I'll just... see him. And then everything will make sense again." His voice cracked on the last word, and he hated himself for it. Hated how raw he sounded, how exposed.

Give was quiet for a long moment. Then he shifted, turning to face Phuwin more fully. "It's alright, you know. He'll come to you when you're ready."

"What if he's not coming at all?" Phuwin's voice was barely a whisper. "What if I broke it? What if I broke us?"

Give's hand landed on his shoulder, warm and grounding. "Then you'll figure it out. But you won't figure it out staring at a phone screen, Phuwin."

Phuwin let out a wet laugh, something between a sob and a chuckle. He wiped at his eyes with the back of his hand, but the tears kept coming, stubborn and relentless. "I don't know why I'm crying. I keep telling myself I'm done crying over him, and then—" He gestured vaguely at his own face, at the tears he couldn't stop.

"It's alright," Give said again, and his voice was so kind that it made Phuwin's chest hurt even more. "I'm not good at this, you know. Comforting people. I never know what to say. I can't help at all."

Phuwin laughed again, a real laugh this time, surprised out of him by Give's honesty. "You're doing fine."

"Am I?" Give's lips curved into a small smile. "Because I feel like I'm just sitting here saying 'it's alright' over and over like a broken record."

"It's working." Phuwin sniffled, wiping his face again. "Somehow."

Give's smile widened, and then he was moving, his arms opening, and Phuwin found himself being pulled into a hug. Give's hands settled on his waist, firm and steady, and Phuwin let himself sink into it, let himself be held for a moment. It wasn't Pond's arms—nothing was Pond's arms—but it was something. Someone here, someone who cared enough to sit with him on a concrete wall and tell him it was alright.

"Thank you," Phuwin murmured into Give's shoulder.

"Don't thank me yet. I'm about to abandon you."

Phuwin pulled back, confused, and Give was already looking over his shoulder, his expression shifting into something knowing. "There's someone here for you. And I'd better get going."

Phuwin turned, and his heart stopped.

Pond was walking toward him across the quad.

He looked terrible. That was the first thought that cut through the shock—Pond looked terrible. His hair was unkempt, his shirt wrinkled, his shoulders hunched in a way Phuwin had never seen before. He looked like he hadn't slept in a week. He looked like he'd been through a war.

Phuwin's breath caught in his throat. He nodded at Give, a jerky, automatic motion, and watched him slip away across the grass. Then he was moving, grabbing his bag from the wall, standing on legs that felt like they might give out at any moment.

Pond's hand closed around his arm.

Phuwin yanked it away like he'd been burned. "Don't."

"Phuwin—"

"Don't touch me." Phuwin's voice was shaking. He walked away, fast, his feet carrying him toward the arts building, toward anywhere that wasn't here, wasn't this. But Pond followed, his footsteps heavy on the pavement behind him.

They reached the side of the arts building, the quieter corner where the light filtered through the trees and the noise of the quad faded to a distant murmur. Phuwin spun around, his chest heaving.

"What the fuck do you want, Pond?"

Pond flinched at the words, but he didn't back down. He stood there, his hands at his sides, his dark eyes fixed on Phuwin's face. "I need to talk to you."

"I don't want to talk to you." Phuwin's voice was rising, cracking at the edges. "I don't want to see you. I don't want to—"

"Then why did you spam my phone with calls?"

The question hit Phuwin like a slap. He stared at Pond, his mouth opening and closing, the words tangling in his throat. "I—" He stopped. Swallowed. And then the words came out in a rush, raw and desperate. "I DON'T FUCKING KNOW WHY I WOULD SPAM YOUR FUCKING PHONE AFTER I HAVEN'T HEARD FROM YOU IN A WEEK OR TWO!"

His voice echoed off the brick walls, and the silence that followed was deafening.

Pond's face crumpled. "Was it worth it? Waiting?"

Phuwin's eyes burned. "I sat here. Waiting to see your face. To know if you were okay. To have a talk with you. To hug you and know that everything was fine." His voice broke on the last word, and he pressed his fist against his mouth, trying to hold it together. "And you didn't come. You didn't call. You didn't—"

"Why would you bother waiting for someone like me?"

The words were so quiet, so broken, that Phuwin almost didn't hear them. But he did. And something inside him snapped.

"BECAUSE I FUCKING LOVE YOU!" The words tore out of him, raw and jagged, and the tears were streaming down his face now, unstoppable. "I love you so fucking much! I have cried and called you every day since the fight. Not once did you pick up the phone. I was so fucking worried about you. I thought you fucking died and left me to cry in bed at night alone. I thought you let your father hit you again. I thought—" His voice broke, and he had to stop, had to gasp for air. "I thought that everything between us was done and over with. I thought you found yourself someone new to love. Someone new to hug and kiss at night. Someone to make you food. Someone that makes you laugh. Someone way better than me."

He was sobbing now, ugly and raw, his whole body shaking. "God, I have been so worried and stressed. Tired. I'm so tired, Pond."

Pond stood frozen, his face a mask of anguish. When he spoke, his voice was barely a whisper. "I would never fucking do that."

"Then why—"

"I never would try to do that." Pond stepped closer, and Phuwin let him, too exhausted to pull away. "I fucking cried watching photos of us together. I thought that someone like me wasn't good enough for you anymore. I thought that if I heard your voice again, it would make me cry or hurt because I feel like I'm the reason everything went wrong."

Phuwin shook his head, his vision blurry with tears. "Why would you think that?"

"Because I was scared." Pond's voice cracked. "And I didn't know. It hurt so much to think of losing you. It hurts to watch someone else get near you. Knowing that people get left behind half the time in relationships. I trusted us. But I got provoked and broken when I saw that someone was getting closer in a way that could ruin our love for each other."

He took another step, close enough that Phuwin could see the tears glistening in his eyes, the exhaustion carved into his face. "I know I lashed out. I was so scared to approach because I didn't want to see myself or you hurt. I was afraid that seeing you hurt was the worst thing to me. And I was afraid that you hated me now."

"Why would I hate you!?" Phuwin's voice was raw, desperate. "Why think like that, Pond! I love you. I was just so disappointed in you. I didn't want any of it to happen. I love you." He grabbed Pond's hands, squeezing them tight, his fingers trembling. "All I want to hear is I love you. Just to know that I'm sure you're going to be there."

Pond's breath shuddered out of him. "It's something that scares me." His voice was so quiet, so fragile. "I don't want to break this promise of loving you again. Proposing to you was the best thing, trust me. Asking you to be my boyfriend was what started our path to getting there. And that first approach when we met in our first years of university—just saying hi was special." His eyes searched Phuwin's face, desperate and raw. "I'm just so fucking scared."

Phuwin shook his head, and then he was moving, closing the distance between them. His hands came up to frame Pond's face, and he kissed him.

It wasn't gentle. It wasn't soft. It was desperate and hungry and full of all the weeks of silence, all the tears, all the fear. Pond's hands found his waist, pulling him close, and Phuwin could feel Pond shaking against him, could taste the salt of his tears mingling with his own.

They pulled apart, foreheads pressed together, breathing ragged. Phuwin's hands slid down to hold Pond's, his fingers intertwining with them. He looked up, his eyes red and swollen, tear tracks still wet on his cheeks.

"Do you believe in our promise of loving each other again?"

Pond's voice was hoarse. "I do. More than anything." He squeezed Phuwin's hands. "I love you."

"I love you too."

Phuwin rested his head against Pond's chest, feeling the rapid thud of his heartbeat beneath his ear. He played with Pond's fingers, tracing the lines of his knuckles, the familiar warmth of his skin. For a moment, there was nothing but the sound of their breathing, the weight of their bodies pressed together, the world reduced to this one point of contact.

"Can I do one more thing?" Pond's voice was soft, hesitant.

Phuwin pulled back, looking up at him. "What?"

Pond's face was flushed, his eyes still red, tear streaks cutting through the exhaustion. But there was something else there now, something that looked almost like hope. "Will you marry me? And continue our wedding together?"

Phuwin's heart stuttered. He stared at Pond, at this beautiful, broken, desperate man who had just asked him the same question that had started all of this. And he felt something in his chest loosen, something that had been wound tight for days, for weeks.

"Of course." The words came out soft, certain. "Of course, Pond."

Pond reached into his pocket, and his hand came out holding the ring. The same ring. The one Phuwin had thrown at him in the clearing. The one that had lain in the grass, abandoned and cold.

Pond knelt.

The gesture was so familiar, so achingly reminiscent of the first time, that Phuwin felt fresh tears prick his eyes. He watched as Pond took his left hand, as he slid the ring back onto his finger, the gold cool against his skin, settling into place like it had never left.

Phuwin smiled. He laughed, a wet, shaky sound, and then he was pulling Pond to his feet, kissing him again, softer this time, sweeter. When he pulled away, he looked down at the ring on his finger, turning his hand to catch the light. It glinted, warm and familiar, and he felt something settle in his chest.

He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, then wrapped his arms around Pond's neck, pressing his face into his chest. Pond's arms came around him, holding him close, and Phuwin could feel him trembling, could feel the silent tears soaking into his hair.

"I'm sorry," Pond whispered into his hair. "I'm so sorry, baby."

Phuwin just held him tighter.

Somewhere across the quad, a phone stopped recording. Two girls giggled, clutching their phones to their chests as they ducked behind a tree, already typing captions, already tagging, already posting.

Phuwin didn't notice. He was too busy counting the beats of Pond's heart beneath his ear, too busy feeling the weight of the ring on his finger, too busy finally, finally breathing.