Ping was halfway through packing his bag when someone sat on the desk beside him.
"You're Ping, right?"
He looked up to see a guy from the media department — tall, friendly-looking, smiling a little too confidently.
"Yeah," Ping replied cautiously.
"I've seen you around a lot," the guy said easily. "You're… hard not to notice."
Ping stiffened. "Oh."
The guy chuckled. "Relax. I mean it in a good way." He leaned closer. "Do you have a partner already?"
Ping opened his mouth—
And froze.
A familiar shadow fell over the desk.
"Ping."
The single word carried weight.
The guy turned to see who it was.....oh it's the so called keng I hope he hasn't gotten his hands on this one..he thought to himself.
Keng didn't respond . His hand landed on the desk, fingers spread, close enough that Ping felt trapped between heat and pressure.
"Is something going on here?" Keng asked calmly.
The guy glanced between them, then smiled awkwardly. "I was just talking."
Keng nodded slowly. "We're leaving."
Ping frowned. "P'keng—"
Keng's fingers closed around Ping's wrist.
Not rough.
Not gentle either.
Just decisive.
They were already walking before Ping could protest.
The staircase door shut behind them with a sharp echo.
Ping pulled his hand free. "What was that about?"
Keng turned to him, eyes dark, jaw tight. "You tell me."
"He was just talking," Ping said.
"He was flirting."keng said sightly annoyed.
"And so what if he was?" Ping snapped, forcing himself to meet Keng's gaze. "You don't get to act like that."
Keng took a step closer.
"Like what?"
"Like I'm yours."ping replied.
The words hung heavy between them.
Keng laughed quietly, but there was no humor in it. "Do you have any idea how hard it is not to claim you when other people look at you like that?"
Ping's breath caught. "P'keng—"
Keng's hand slid to Ping's waist, fingers splaying there like he belonged. This time, there was no hesitation.
Ping didn't move away.
Keng leaned in, lips brushing Ping's ear. "You're trying so hard to be strong," he murmured. "But your body doesn't lie."
Ping's hands clenched in Keng's shirt. "Stop saying things like that."
"Then stop reacting," Keng replied softly.
Their lips met — slower than before, but heavier. Keng kissed him like he was claiming space, like jealousy had finally cracked his restraint. His hand slid up Ping's back, fingers pressing firmly, grounding, possessive.
Ping gasped, heat rushing to his face, heart racing. He kissed back before he could stop himself — just once — before pulling away sharply.
"P'keng!" His voice came out breathless. "We're not— we're not even—"
"We're not dating. But very soon"keng said.
Keng rested his forehead against Ping's, breathing hard. His thumb brushed lightly at Ping's waist again, just enough to make Ping shiver.
"This isn't over," Keng said quietly.
Ping stared at him, stunned, lips parted, cheeks burning. He couldn't even form a proper reply.
"Y— you—" He stepped back suddenly. "You're unbelievable."
He turned and hurried up the stairs, heart pounding so loud it hurt.
Keng stayed where he was, watching him go, eyes dark with satisfaction and hunger.
"Run all you want," he muttered.
"You're already halfway mine."