The early morning was so quiet he could hear the wind slipping through the window frame.

In the small room, Bach Luu sat at his desk, bent over a notebook. The soft light cast a gentle glow on his profile. In front of him lay the worn notebook — the one where Mạc Đình had copied formulas, notes, and little tricks that only he was allowed to know.

The clock struck four a.m.

While the whole neighborhood slept, Bạch Lưu was already awake, reading every carefully written line with rare focus. He didn't want to trouble Mạc Đình because of his own shortcomings — nor waste the effort spent on him.

The morning passed quietly, filled only with the sound of pages turning and steady breathing.

When the minute hand nudged past eight, he stood, fixed his collar, and smiled faintly at his reflection.

Today, he wanted to do better — not just for the grade, but for someone's eyes.

The test took place in the third period.

The teacher walked in with a thick stack of papers, wearing a sly smile that made the entire class swallow nervously.

One sheet landed on Mạc Đình's desk. He skimmed it, and the corner of his mouth twitched.

"Exactly the type we reviewed."

He smiled — naturally, effortlessly.

Across the room, Bạch Lưu was writing intently. His brows furrowed, his hands trembled slightly, but his handwriting remained neat. He didn't know that his quiet effort was already a significant part of Mạc Đình's morning.

When the bell rang, the room burst into chatter.
Mạc Đình gathered his papers and glanced toward Bạch Lưu's seat — empty.

Down in the crowded cafeteria, Bạch Lưu squeezed through the line, holding two chilled banana milk drinks. He smiled to himself, feeling a strange mix of anticipation and warmth.

He just wanted to thank him.

But when he returned, Mạc Đình's seat was empty too.

He looked around and asked Lâm Hoa at the front desk:

"Hey, where's Mạc Đình?"

"Mmm, Tú Đằng just dragged him out. Probably confessing on the rooftop by now."
She said it between bites of her snack.

The surrounding classmates immediately chimed in.

"They look perfect together — smart and good-looking."

"I heard Tú Đằng's liked him forever. She's so cheerful and lively, who wouldn't like her?"

Bạch Lưu froze.

Those voices blurred together into a low hum inside his head.

He stared at the cold banana milk in his hand, his eyes dimming.

Quietly, he walked to Mạc Đình's desk, placed one drink into the drawer with a small note:

"Thanks for helping me today ^^"

The bell rang again. Chairs scraped. Students hurried back to their seats.

Mạc Đình walked in holding a water bottle. When his gaze landed near the window, his steps paused.

Bạch Lưu sat sideways in his chair. Golden light washed over his hair, a breeze nudging loose strands over his forehead. His expression held a quiet sorrow, eyes drifting toward the sky as if holding the whole world inside them.

For a moment, Mạc Đình stilled.

In that diluted light, Bạch Lưu looked breathtaking in a way that tugged at the heart.

Returning to his seat, he opened the drawer — saw the banana milk and note — and blinked in surprise. A soft laugh slipped from him.

This ridiculous boy.

He took out his phone and typed a short message:

/Let's go home together later./

When Bạch Lưu read it, he hesitated a few seconds before replying:

/I have club activities today. You go ahead. Drink the banana milk, okay?/

Mạc Đình didn't reply.
He simply closed his phone and glanced over again.

The same distance.
The same unspoken space between them.

But somehow, after not talking the entire morning, something in his chest felt strangely restless.

School ended.

Bạch Lưu slung on his backpack, heading for the door.
Mạc Đình's voice called from behind:

"Hey, come to the bike lot with me. We're going the same way."

He stopped, turning back with a faint smile.

"Alright."

They walked side by side through the sunlit hallway. Footsteps echoed between the chatter of dismissal.

"The test was the type we studied. You managed, right?"
Mạc Đình teased lightly.

"I did everything. No clue where I messed up though."

"You're hopeless," he sighed — yet the corner of his mouth lifted.

A small pause followed.

After a few seconds of hesitation, Bạch Lưu asked quietly:

"Earlier... you and Tú Đằng looked like you were having fun?"

"Oh. Nothing."
Mạc Đình frowned slightly.
"She was arguing with her friend about a calculus answer and dragged me out to settle it."

"Oh..."
Bạch Lưu nodded, lips curling unconsciously.

Warmth bubbled faintly in his chest — small, but enough to lighten his steps.

"I'm feeling lazy today... maybe I'll skip club practice. How about giving me a ride home?"
He grinned, eyes bright like a child's.

"Huh?"
Mạc Đình blinked.

Bạch Lưu's smile widened, crescent-eyed like a sliver of moonlight.

"Hurry up! I don't want to get home after dark!"

He sprinted ahead, waving enthusiastically.
Mạc Đình stared, then laughed helplessly.

"I'm not dragging a mule cart under this heat, you idiot!"

Their laughter echoed across the wide courtyard, dissolving into the golden afternoon.