Things went as usual that day.
Classes ended, chairs scraped softly against the floor, and students poured into the hallway, loud and restless.
Ping packed his bag neatly, expecting nothing more than another ordinary walk home.
At the far end of the corridor, keng was already moving.
"Keng, we're stopping by the court today, remember?" One of his friends called, a basketball tucked under his arm.
"Not today", keng replied without slowing down.
The three of them paused, staring at one another, a knowing look passed between them,followed by a faint smile.
Keng didn't turn back. He walked away, steps purposeful, as if he had somewhere important to be.
Ping was ready to go home when he stopped short.
Keng was standing near the school gate.
His eyes met ping's, smile appearing – soft and unhurried, as if he had all the time in the world.
"P'keng?" Ping asked as he approached, fingers instinctively adjusting his glasses.
"Why are you here" he asked.
"I'm here for you", keng said simply. "I'll walk you home"
Ping hesitated. A hundred thoughts crossed his mind – people might see, it wasn't necessary,it was strange.
Yet beneath all of that was a quiet warmth he couldn't deny. He loved keng's presence.
"Okay",he said at last.
They walked side by side in silence. Ping stole glances when he thought keng wouldn't notice. Keng noticed anyway. Each time,that same gentle smile returned, lingering just long enough to make ping's chest tighten.
It felt as though the world had emptied itself, leaving just the two of them and the steady rhythm of their steps.
When they reached the corner near ping's house,keng slowed to a stop.
"My place isn't far from here", he said
"You should go on inside".
Ping nodded, though a part of him didn't want the walk to end so soon.
He turned slightly, ready to say goodbye –
"Ping"
He stopped.
Keng leaned forward just a little, close enough that ping froze. With careful fingers,keng gently adjusted a strand of ping's hair that had fallen out of place.
"See you tomorrow", keng said, smiling. "Little ping"
Before ping could react , keng straightened and stepped back, turning away as if nothing unusual had happened.
Ping stood there stunned, he rubbed the spot where keng's fingers had been, his face warm, his heart racing.
By the time he looked up, keng was already gone.
When ping got home,he didn't head straight to his room like he usually did.
"Mom, I'm home ", he said, his voice lighter than usual.
His mother paused in the kitchen and turned to look at him closely.
"Ping?" She asked
"Are you okay?"
Instead of answering,ping walked closer,
"Mom..... can you make my favorite dish tonight?"
Her eyes widened.
"You only ask for that on happy occasions", she said suspiciously.
"What's this about?, talk to mommy"
Ping hesitated. He and his mother were close; he told her almost everything, still this felt important – something he wanted to say carefully.
"... Mom", he said slowly,eyes lowering for a second, "I have a new friend".
"A new friend?" She repeated , surprised,"you don't even like crowds. Of course we're talking about this".
He stood there,lost in thought,as if carefully choosing which memory to hold onto.
The way keng smiled,
The way he waited,
The calm that followed him everywhere.
Finally, he looked up.
" His name is keng", ping said.
A smile spread across his face – wide, unguarded, foolish.
Before his mother could say anything else, ping turned and hurried off to his room, the smile still lingering as he closed the door behind him.
His mother stared after him for a moment.
"But that's not what I asked", she murmured,then laughed –soft and warm.
Tears gathered at the corners of her eyes, not sadness but from relief.
Her son had always avoided coming in contact with people since his father's death ,he only opened up to her.
But now he was glowing with happiness.
Deep down she wanted to meet this keng.
Later that night,as ping lay on his bed, the room dim and quiet,his mind returned to the same moment over and over again.
Keng's tenderness towards him.
The way he called him "little ping...." He paused,
"I'm not little", he said to himself pulling the blanket closer, touching his hair again smiling foolishly.
He didn't understand what this feeling was yet.
But he knew one thing.
That smile had followed him all the way home – and it was still there.