Keng didn't approach Ping at all that day.
That alone was suspicious.
No lunch.
No quiet comments.
No hovering presence that made Ping aware of his own breathing.
Ping noticed immediately.
He hated that he noticed.
By afternoon, Keng was seated across the studio, laughing softly with Tao and Bank, completely relaxed—like he wasn't avoiding Ping on purpose.
Ping told himself it didn't matter.
He still glanced over. Once. Twice. Too many times.
Keng caught it.
He didn't smile.
He didn't wave.
He just leaned back in his chair, eyes locking with Ping's for a brief second before calmly looking away.
Ping's fingers curled.
That night, when Ping returned to the dorm, he stopped short.
Something hung on the door handle.
A familiar paper bag. Warm.
Inside was his favorite meal. And beneath it, a folded note.
Eat properly.
You get grumpy when you don't.
No name.
Ping stared at it for a long moment.
"…Annoying," he muttered.
He ate it anyway.
The next morning, Keng passed him in the corridor.
No greeting.
No pause.
Just a slow brush of shoulders as they crossed.
Keng smelled familiar. Clean. Calm.
Ping's steps faltered.
"—Hia."
The word slipped out before Ping could stop himself.
Keng halted.
Turned.
Raised an eyebrow. "Yes?"
Ping regretted it instantly. "Nothing."
Keng studied him for a bit too long, gaze dropping briefly to Ping's lips before lifting again.
"…Alright," he said softly.
Then he walked away.
Ping stood there, heart pounding, heat crawling up his neck.
From the stairs, Tao whistled quietly.
"Oh wow," he murmured. "He's really doing it."
Bank nodded. "Scheming."
Keng didn't look back.
But the corner of his mouth lifted.
Ping told himself he didn't care.
He repeated it while brushing his teeth.
While tying his shoelaces.
While walking to class without seeing Keng anywhere near him.
Still, his eyes searched.
By noon, he was sure of it.
Keng was avoiding him.
Not awkwardly.
Not guiltily.
Deliberately.
At lunch, Ping sat down with Rain, barely touching his food. Across the cafeteria, Keng sat with Tao and Bank, relaxed, laughing softly. He didn't look Ping's way even once.
That irritated Ping more than anything else.
"So," Rain said, poking his food, "your admirer finally gave up?"
Ping stiffened. "He's not my admirer."
Rain hummed. "Sure. But he used to hover. Now he's gone quiet."
Ping scoffed. "Good."
But his chest felt oddly hollow.
Across the table, Tao leaned closer to Keng. "You're really not going to look?"
Keng didn't even blink. "No."
Bank raised an eyebrow. "You sure this is a good idea?"
Keng's gaze stayed forward. "He reacts when I chase him. He freezes when I touch him."
A pause.
"But when I pull away…"
He finally glanced in Ping's direction.
Ping was already watching.
Their eyes met.
Ping looked away first.
Keng smiled faintly.
"That's when he feels it," Keng finished.
That evening, Ping returned to the dorm earlier than usual.
The corridor was quiet.
Too quiet.
He reached his door—and stopped.
Another paper bag hung on the handle.
Still warm.
No note this time.
Ping stared at it for a long moment, then grabbed it and went inside, slamming the door harder than necessary.
"He's doing this on purpose," Ping muttered.
He ate anyway.
Later that night, as Ping lay on his bed scrolling aimlessly through his phone, a message popped up.
Unknown:
Did you eat?
Ping's thumb hovered.
He typed.
Deleted.
Typed again.
Ping:
Stop pretending you don't see me.
The reply came almost instantly.
Unknown:
I see you.
Ping's heart skipped.
Ping:
Then why are you acting like this?
Several seconds passed.
Long enough for Ping to regret sending it.
Unknown:
Because I don't want to corner you anymore.
I want you to come to me on your own.
Ping stared at the screen.
Annoyance.
Heat.
Something dangerously close to longing.
He turned his phone face-down.
"…Unfair," he whispered again.
In the room next door, Keng leaned back against his bed, phone in hand.
Tao's earlier words echoed in his mind.
If you keep chasing him, he'll keep running.
Keng closed his eyes.
"Come to me," he murmured softly. "Just once."
Ping stood up from the bed.
He didn't overthink it this time. If he stayed still any longer, the ache in his chest would swallow him whole.
The corridor outside was dim and quiet. His footsteps felt too loud as he stopped in front of Keng's door and knocked.
Once.
Twice.
He waited.
The door opened.
Keng froze.
"Ping?
Ping didn't answer. He just stood there, breathing hard, eyes shining like he'd run all the way here without stopping.
Keng reached out without thinking and grabbed Ping's hand. "Why are you here?" he asked, voice low, almost shaken.
Ping swallowed. "You told me to come to you."
Keng's fingers tightened around his.
"You ignored me today," Ping continued, his voice unsteady. "I didn't like it."
Keng opened his mouth—but Ping stepped closer.
"I thought you said you wouldn't leave again," Ping said, the words cracking. His eyes burned. "You're doing it again."
Tears slipped free before he could stop them.
"I won't let you go this time," Ping whispered, voice breaking completely.
Keng's chest clenched.
He lifted his hand and gently wiped the tears from Ping's cheeks, his thumb lingering longer than necessary.
"Ping… I'm sorry," he said softly.
The air between them shifted—heavy, charged, too close.
"I'm not leaving. I won't," Keng continued, his voice rough now. "I just wanted you to react."
He tilted Ping's face up carefully, forcing him to meet his eyes.
"I needed to know you'd come."
Ping's breath hitched.
Keng leaned in.
Slow.
Deliberate.
He kissed him.
Not rushed. Not desperate. Just firm enough to make Ping's knees feel weak.
Ping didn't pull away.
He didn't hesitate.
He stood there, hands trembling slightly at his sides, like he'd been waiting for this moment longer than he'd ever admit.
Keng deepened the kiss, just enough to make it burn. Their breaths tangled, foreheads touching as they broke apart for air—only to lean back in again, drawn by something neither of them could stop anymore.
Ping's fingers finally clenched into Keng's shirt.
"Keng…" he breathed.
Keng rested his forehead against Ping's. "I've got you," he murmured. "I'm right here."
Ping closed his eyes, heart racing.
This time, he believed him.
Keng pulled back just slightly, close enough that their foreheads still brushed. His hands stayed on Ping's shoulders, grounding him, steadying him—but also claiming him.
"Do you realize how stupid you've been?"
Keng whispered, voice low, teasing, almost dangerous. "Making me wait, ignoring me… thinking you could stay mad at me."
Ping swallowed hard, heat spreading from his chest to his cheeks. "I… I wasn't ignoring you," he muttered, though the words came out weak, betraying him.
Keng smirked, leaning in closer again, lips just grazing Ping's ear. "Not?" he teased.
"Because your heart's racing like it's lying to me."
Ping froze. He wanted to deny it, wanted to step back—but Keng's hand slid down, brushing lightly along his arm, anchoring him in place. His breath hitched. "I-I'm not…"
"Not what?" Keng pressed, his nose brushing Ping's cheek, his voice a low tease. "Not in love with me yet?"
Ping tried to push away, tried to act strong, but the warmth of Keng's body, the scent, the way his chest brushed against his, made him falter. "I… I just… don't want to fall again," he muttered, eyes darting down.
Keng chuckled softly, capturing Ping's gaze. "You already have," he said. "And that's okay. I won't leave again. I promise."
He leaned in slowly, forehead against Ping's, letting the tension between them simmer. Just a little closer, their breaths mingling, the world narrowing down to just the two of them.
Ping's hands twitched at his sides, unsure whether to push away or hold on. Finally, he let one hand rest lightly against Keng's chest, feeling the steady beat beneath his fingers.
"You're… impossible," Ping muttered, though his voice was soft, almost a whisper, betraying the way his heart pounded.
Keng smirked, fingers brushing gently along Ping's jaw. "And you're hopeless," he teased. "But… I like it."
Ping's face burned. He opened his mouth to respond, but Keng leaned in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to his lips—this one slower, deeper than before. Keng didn't rush, didn't force—just let the warmth of the moment sink in.
When they pulled back just enough to breathe, Keng rested his forehead against Ping's again. "You see?" he murmured. "You can't stay mad at me forever."
Ping exhaled shakily, letting his guard slip for the first time in a long while. "You're… ridiculously annoying," he admitted.
"And you?" Keng asked, eyes glinting with mischief. "Still trying to act tough?"
Ping's lips twitched into a small, helpless smile. "Maybe… maybe I like it," he whispered.
Keng's grin widened, just enough to make Ping's stomach flutter. "I thought so," he said softly. "Now… let me take care of you properly."
The room seemed to shrink around them, the rest of the world fading. For the first time in a long time, Ping didn't push him away. He... didn't want to.