Keng stopped coming around.
No breakfast.
No waiting outside the door.
No lingering presence that Ping pretended to hate but secretly noticed.
"Seems like your admirer is tired. You've finally succeeded in sending him away," Rain said casually while packing his bag.
"I don't care," Ping replied, a little too quickly.
But his chest tightened anyway.
Days passed, and Ping still didn't see Keng—not at home, not at school. The absence felt louder than Keng's usual persistence.
Maybe he's tired.
Maybe he was never that serious to begin with.
Leaving people behind… that's always been his nature.
Ping clicked his tongue in annoyance at his own thoughts.
"You've been grumpy lately," Rain observed. "Did someone steal your snacks?" Rain teased , clearly knowing what was bothering him.
Before Ping could reply, Tao stopped by looking slightly worried.
"Keng caught a bad cold," Tao said. "Probably from the rain the other day. He's been holed up in his room. Since you live next door… can you check on him for us? We're tied up with projects."
Ping stiffened.
So he wasn't tired ....he was sick.
He wanted to refuse. He really did.
But the thought slipped in before he could stop it.
…He got sick because of me.
"Tch," Ping muttered. "Annoying."
Still, he went.
Ping knocked on Keng's door. No answer.
He turned to leave just as the door creaked open.
Keng stood there, hair messy, eyes dull, his usual confidence nowhere to be seen.
"You look terrible," Ping said flatly.
Keng chuckled weakly. "That's a nice way to greet a sick person."
Ping stepped inside without asking. The room was quiet, almost lonely. Without thinking, he reached out and pressed the back of his hand to Keng's forehead.
"You're burning up," Ping frowned. "You're sick because of me."
"It's okay," Keng said softly. "I'm fine."
"No, you're not," Ping snapped. "Sit."
For once, Keng didn't argue.
Ping checked the fridge and clicked his tongue.
"Do you even eat properly? Why is this almost empty?"
Keng looked away. "I don't really have anyone to take care of me."
Ping rolled his eyes. "Annoying."
He cooked something simple with what little was there and watched until Keng finished eating.
"I'll stay until you fall asleep," Ping said. "Then I'll go."
Keng nodded, eyes heavy.
Soon, Keng drifted off.
Ping stayed.
He sat beside the bed, watching Keng sleep—peaceful, unguarded, nothing like the confident senior everyone admired.
Ping reached out slowly, brushing his fingers against Keng's cheek.
"Why do you look so annoyingly cute even like this…" he whispered.
His voice softened before he realized it.
"I was hurt that you left me," Ping murmured.
"But what annoys me more… is that I can't bring myself to hate you."
His hand clenched lightly against the blanket.
"Deep down, I still want to understand you. I still want things to go back to how it was… years back."
He laughed quietly. "I'm so stupid."
Ping didn't know Keng was awake.
Keng heard everything.
But he stayed still.
Because if he moved, this moment would disappear.
Eventually, exhaustion won. Ping leaned forward slightly—and fell asleep beside him.
Only then did Keng open his eyes.
Carefully, he shifted, lifting Ping onto the bed properly. He adjusted the blanket around him, making sure he was comfortable.
Keng brushed Ping's hair back, his expression unreadable.
"I won't leave again," he whispered.
He leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to Ping's forehead.
"I promise."