Johan POV

~a week later~

“Mm,” I muttered, ending the call and tossing my phone aside.

It was the third racing update of the day. My dad hadn’t stopped talking for the past ten minutes—and said absolutely nothing useful.

“Wanna race, Jo?” Arthit asked, elbowing me in the ribs like an excited puppy.

“No,” I replied flatly.

“Oh my God,” Hill groaned. “Can you idiots please study? Exams are literally tomorrow.”

“So?” Arthit rolled his eyes. “It’s not like I’m failing. I’m naturally smart. I don’t need to bury myself in books like you losers.”

“You have three backlogs, Arthit,” Tonfah deadpanned, not even looking up from his notes.

I smirked.

Hill jabbed a thumb toward me. “See? Even Johan is concentrating. What’s your excuse?”

“Don’t drag me into your fights,” I said calmly, flipping a page.

Hill clicked his tongue, then reached into his bag.

“Oh, right—here.” He handed over a small lunch box. Familiar. Neatly packed. Slightly dented at the corner.

My fingers paused for a split second before taking it.

“Your favorite nong gave it to me to pass on,” Hill added casually.

Of course he did.

I gave a noncommittal nod. “Mm.”

“Yo, what did he make?” Arthit leaned over my shoulder like a vulture. “Can I have a bite?”

Before he could get any closer, I blocked him with a swift kick to his shin.

“Ow. Stingy bastard,” he muttered, hopping back.

I ignored him and opened the box.

The scent hit me first—something rich, familiar, warm. Homemade.

And then I saw it.

Tucked neatly on top of the lid: a small folded note, written in that slightly messy handwriting I recognized all too well.

Phi, I hope you like it. I made it three times to perfect it. Love you na.

My mouth twitched.

Barely.

But it did.

Arthit leaned back in his chair, groaning dramatically. “Lucky bastard.”

He threw his arms up. “When am I going to find a sweet little nong who cooks for me and writes cute little notes and looks at me like I hung the moon?”

Tonfah didn’t even look up. “Maybe when you stop acting like a walking hormone and think about settling down.”

“Huh?! Me? Horny? I rarely even have sex!”

He suddenly pointed at me.

“This man—this one right here—has probably slept with half of the girls in our major, and yet somehow I’m the one who needs to get my shit together for a wholesome romance. Wow. Wowwwww.”

I didn’t respond.

I just took a bite of the food.

Warm. A little spicy. Exactly the way I liked it.

The idiot had remembered.

Of course he did.

That little brat hadn’t texted me in a week.

And for some reason, that pissed me off.

He was the one who said he liked me first. He was the one clinging to my arm, blushing at every glance. He was the one who’d started this whole nonsense in the first place.

So why was he the one hiding now?

Tch.

Brat.

Still…

The lunch tasted good. The note was fine. And for reasons I didn’t care to name, I’d been checking the gate every evening on the off chance he might pass by.

I glanced down at the note again.

My thumb ran over the corner of the note.

I folded it carefully, tucked it into my wallet, and said nothing.

✿✿✿

North POV

The second I stumbled out of that suffocating exam hall, I headed straight for the grassy field near the back of campus. Everyone else was flocking to cafés and canteens, their relief loud and chaotic.

Me?

I just needed to lie down.

So I did. Right in the middle of the field, arms splayed, the sun warm on my skin and the scent of cut grass lingering like summer nostalgia.

“Finally,” I groaned, half to myself, half to the sky. “Sweet, merciful freedom. I did it. I’m a genius. I deserve a Nobel. Someone give me a crown.”

The clouds didn’t respond.

But someone else did.

A long, familiar shadow crept over my face.

I opened one eye.

Black jeans. Motorcycle boots. That black shirt that clung a little too well to his frame. Arms crossed. Slight frown.

“Missed me that bad, Phi?” I said, grinning up at him.

Johan didn’t reply right away. He just stared down at me, unimpressed. The sun behind him created a soft golden halo around his figure. He looked like some annoyed deity come to scold me for being lazy.

“What the hell are you doing,” he said flatly.

“Celebrating life. Mourning my brain cells. Contemplating a future in dance because engineering clearly wants me dead.”

I patted the grass beside me. “Lie down. Let’s be useless together.”

He raised a brow.

Didn’t move.

Didn’t lie down either.

I sighed dramatically. “Fine. Since you refuse to be poetic with me, at least take me somewhere nice. Like your race track. Let me forget the taste of mechanical equations and regret.”

He narrowed his eyes. “You barely survived exams, and now you want to sit on a bike going 200 km/h?”

“Exactly. I crave danger. Thrill. The illusion of control.”

A pause.

“You’re not riding.”

“I wasn’t planning to ride,” I said, affronted. “I want you to ride. I’ll just cling to you and scream occasionally when we go around corners.”

Johan stared at me for a long second.

Like he was trying to decide whether to throw me over his shoulder or just walk away.

“You’re so dramatic.”

“Your dramatic little nong,” I repeated sweetly, batting my lashes.

He let out a long-suffering sigh. The kind that said, I hate this, but I’m going to do it anyway.

“Come on,” he muttered.

My ears perked up. “Wait—really?!”

He didn’t respond, just turned on his heel and started walking.

I scrambled to my feet and sprinted after him, backpack bouncing wildly.

We reached the parking lot behind the engineering wing. His bike sat there, black and gleaming, like some sleek mechanical beast. I grinned at it the same way one might grin at a roller coaster with no safety bar.

Johan handed me the spare helmet without a word. His fingers brushed mine.

Brief. Warm.

“I knew you missed me,” I said smugly, strapping the helmet under my chin.

“I missed the peace and quiet,” he said flatly.

“Liar. You missed my voice. My chaos. My endless affection. That's why you are here.”

“Get on.”

“See? Can’t even deny it anymore.”

He climbed on, kicking up the stand. I swung my leg over and settled behind him, arms looping tightly around his waist. My chin rested lightly on his shoulder, the leather of his jacket familiar beneath my cheek.

He tensed for a moment.

Then relaxed.

The engine roared to life beneath us, deep and growling. The vibrations rumbled up through my bones, and the wind picked up as Johan pulled out of the lot and onto the open road.

Within minutes, we were flying.

The wind slapped my cheeks, tore through my hair, and drowned out the noise in my head. Campus disappeared behind us. Trees blurred into smears of green. The sky overhead melted into shades of soft pink and gold as the sun began its slow descent.

I laughed into the breeze.

Loud. Unfiltered. Stupid-happy.

Johan didn’t say anything. Not like he ever did. But his movements were confident, controlled—his body instinctively leaning into curves, accelerating with purpose.

I didn’t need him to talk.

This was his language.

The road. The silence. The way his hand tightened slightly on the throttle when I pressed my forehead to his back.