Jinn leaned against the railing, arms crossed, eyes fixed on Keng.
"You really hurt him, you know."
Keng didn't look up. His jaw tightened.
"Yeah… I know," he said quietly. "I never meant to. I just—" he exhaled. "I hope he gives me a chance to explain."
Tao scoffed softly. "A chance?" he said. "Right now, he's doing everything possible to avoid you."
"So what do you plan on doing?" Tao continued. "Because pretending you don't exist seems to be his strategy."
Before Keng could reply, Bank spoke up.
"We can help you plan something," he said. "At least to get him to listen."
Keng shot him a look.
"No thanks. Your ideas suck."
Bank raised his hands in surrender. "Wow. Okay. Suit yourself."
"I'll figure something out on my own," Keng added, though his voice lacked confidence. He didn't know what the right move was anymore. Every step felt wrong.
"Oh," Tao said suddenly, peering past them, "that's Ping."
Keng's heart jumped. He stood up so fast his chair scraped loudly against the floor, eyes searching the space.
"Just kidding," Tao added with a grin. "Relax."
Keng froze. Slowly, he turned back to Tao, his expression dark. The glare he gave him could've killed.
"You're dead," Keng muttered.
Tao burst into laughter, but Keng was already walking away, hands clenched at his sides.
Even jokes hurt now—because every time he thought he saw Ping, his chest tightened with hope and regret all over again.
Keng knew Ping wouldn't forget everything so easily. He didn't expect forgiveness—not now, maybe not ever.
So he decided to keep his distance.
If he couldn't stand beside Ping, then at least he could watch from afar. At least that way, he could see his face.
He missed him. More than he was willing to admit.
But he couldn't say it. Not when every attempt might push Ping further away.
Keng wanted them to clear things up, to finally explain the silence, the disappearance, the pain he never meant to cause. But he already knew—Ping didn't want to see him. Not yet.
And maybe… Keng thought, tightening his fists,
watching from a distance was the only thing Ping would allow him to do.
Keng watched Ping from afar.
From where he stood, he could see him clearly—too clearly.
Ping was laughing, his eyes crinkling slightly, the sound light and unguarded.
Beside him was a guy Keng didn't recognize.
Something sharp twisted in Keng's chest.
Jealousy crept in quietly, unwelcome but impossible to ignore. He found himself wondering who that person was, and when they had earned a smile Keng used to think belonged only to him.
He clenched his jaw.
It wasn't his place anymore.
Not after leaving.
Not after coming back too late.
Still, the sight hurt.
Because Ping could smile without him now.
He consoled himself silently and continued staring at Ping.
That was when he noticed it—how much Ping had grown.
Not just physically, but in the way he carried himself now. There was a quiet confidence in his posture, a steadiness Keng didn't remember. The boy who once leaned into him for reassurance no longer seemed to need it.
Keng swallowed hard.
Time hadn't waited for him.
.....And Ping hadn't stayed the same.