I sat on the bleachers with my chin resting on my knees, watching the organized chaos of the university festival preparations unfold like a Broadway show I wasn’t cast in.

Banners flapped in the wind. Stalls were being built with too much tape and too little supervision. Music blared from someone’s speaker, and paint-stained students rushed across the field like caffeine-fueled ants.

And yet, I felt like I was sitting in a bubble—completely untouched by the energy around me.

“Why all sulky, baby witch?”

I looked down to see Easter plop himself dramatically in front of me, notebook in hand, pencil behind his ear, and an amused glint in his eyes. His uniform was half-wrinkled, and there was glitter stuck on his temple from the poster project he’d been yelling about all morning.

He didn’t even look up as he spoke—just kept scribbling something that probably involved budgeting or a death threat to someone who hadn’t submitted their stall form.

I pouted harder. “I haven’t seen that Godzilla since yesterday.”

“P’Johan?” he asked without missing a beat.

“Do I know any other emotionally constipated lizard men?”

Easter made a sound between a snort and a sigh.

“I don’t know how to approach him,” I went on, resting my cheek on my knees. “I don’t know if I should pretend to bump into him casually or throw myself in front of his motorcycle and hope it counts as a meet-cute.”

Easter finally looked up at that. “You’re not well.”

Before I could argue that emotionally unwell and romantically dedicated were not mutually exclusive, a familiar voice called out—

“Nong!”

I turned and lit up. “P’Earth!”

He jogged over with that soft, breezy smile of his. A senior in our major, Earth was the kind of person who always looked like he belonged in a café commercial—clean, charming, with just enough mischief to keep him interesting.

“What happened, Nong? You look really sad,” he said, crouching next to the bleachers.

My pout deepened, like it had been waiting for his cue.

“And so adorable,” he added with a grin, reaching up to pinch my cheek gently.

I gave him my best sparkly-eyed, innocent stare—the one that usually melted people’s hearts.

Earth just chuckled.

But before I could even decide whether to use the opportunity to vent or flirt a little (maybe both), my stomach dropped.

Because from the corner of my eye, I caught a movement that pulled the air right out of my lungs.

P’Johan.

Walking across the pavement with P’Hill, P’Arthit, and P’Tonfah in tow.

He looked sharp as always—shirt slightly untucked like he didn’t care, sleeves rolled up just enough to show the veins on his arms, and that usual effortless cool aura.

I went completely still.

My heart did that thing again—leapt like it forgot how to stay inside my chest.

I watched as the group walked closer. P’Tonfah caught sight of me first. His expression shifted—recognition, surprise, a small wave.

But Johan?

Not even a flicker of acknowledgment.

His gaze passed over me like I was a tree.

Not a boy who made him lunch every damn day.

Not a boy who confessed, pouted, flirted, fought.

Not a boy who was currently aching for even a glance.

Nothing.

You…

Meany.

Emotionally constipated, glacier-hearted, infuriating meany.

My lips parted, but no sound came out. I just sat there, frozen, holding my drink like it might spill the feelings I couldn’t express.

He didn’t even slow down.

Didn’t look.

Didn’t blink.

Didn’t care.

Earth glanced up, noticed my silence, and followed my gaze.

“Ah,” he said softly. “So that’s who we’re pouting over.”

I didn’t reply.

I couldn’t.

Easter, still watching quietly, closed his notebook.

“You okay?” Earth asked gently.

I blinked, then turned my eyes back toward the field, where P’Johan’s figure grew smaller as he walked away—unbothered, unreadable, and somehow still taking pieces of me with him.

“I’m fine,” I said softly.

Even though I really wasn’t.

✿✿✿

Johan POV

"Who was that man touching Nong’s cheek though?" Hill asked, half-curious, half-teasing.

I didn’t look up. Just kept flipping the pen in my hand.

“Looked like he was flirting,” Tonfah added, glancing over his phone. “Nong was practically glowing.”

My jaw ticked.

"Nong didn’t even cook today,” he added with a shrug. “Maybe he’s finally tired of your bullshit.”

I scoffed. “Didn’t ask him to cook.”

“If he’s over you,” Arthit cut in, “guess I’ll shoot my shot.”

I finally looked up.

Stared at him blankly.

Arthit raised an eyebrow. “What? You don’t even like him, right?”

I leaned back on the couch, dropped one leg over the other, and rested my elbow on the armrest.

“Do whatever you want,” I said flatly.

But the air in the room shifted.

My tone hadn’t changed, but the silence after it said something else. I could feel their glances.

Hill hummed under his breath. Tonfah lowered his phone slightly.

Arthit smirked. “If he’s that annoying, you won’t care when someone else makes him smile.”

I didn’t blink. “Why would I?”

“Right.” He nodded slowly. “No reason.”

I said nothing. Just stared at the coffee table like it had personally pissed me off.

Because maybe it wasn’t about that little brat.

Maybe it was about how that café commercial-looking asshole had touched his cheek like it meant something. Like it was allowed.

Maybe it was about how the loudest boy I knew had gone silent when he saw me.

Maybe it was nothing.

It Doesn’t matter.

I don’t like him.