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The first week of school and Okhema High was already in chaos.
It started in the group chats. Moved into club discussions. Expanded in the cafeteria and evolved during PE warmups.
The topic was: Who’s the new prince of Okhema?
Was it Phainon, the smiley ace from Aedes Elysiae Junior High, who’d led his basketball team to three championships, ranked in the top five academically, and had a fan club since seventh grade?
Or was it Mydeimos, the aloof prodigy, soft-spoken (if he ever spoke), who came from the prestigious Kremnos Academy? Ace of the track team. Son of a politician. Allegedly ran a 100-metre dash in under eleven seconds while training his grips at the same time.
Nobody knew who started it. Probably someone bored during orientation.
But by the second day, the whole school was in it.
Phainon laughed the first time he knew he became a hot topic. It was kind of flattering, honestly. Weird but acceptable. Not like it was new. Aedes Elysiae had called him the 'Sunshine Deliverer' by the time he was in eighth grade.
But he hadn’t even warmed his seat in Okhema yet when the name Mydeimos started showing up everywhere.
People compared everything. From their grades to their club, even their jacket and shoes choices got their own voting space.
So, out of pure curiosity and maybe a little ego, Phainon borrowed a printout of the athletic placement results from his club senior.
There, right under "Track & Field Trial Results", was the name: Mydeimos.
With a 100-metre time record that made Phainon blink and reread it three times.
“No way,” he muttered.
That wasn't national-tier. It was Olympic-tier.
Then he checked the entrance exam score on the bulletin board. Phainon saw his own name on math. Then scanned the other subjects, half for fun.
There was Mydeimos.
Ranked first on everything but math.
Phainon's fingers curled slightly at the edge of the paper.
“...Oh, he is a genius.”
He wasn’t mad.
But his heart was beating slightly faster.
It had been a while since anyone had really challenged him. Phainon had always been the one people watched. The one teachers nudged forward. The one whose grades, athletics, and smile lined up so perfectly that it annoyed half his classmates.
And now this mysterious boy from Kremnos shows up and just outranked him?
Everyone called them rivals. At first, Phainon thought it was silly.
Now, his chest buzzed in a way he couldn’t name.
Maybe the school would be more fun than before.
However, for the first month of school, Phainon didn’t even know what Mydeimos looked like in person.
That was the most ridiculous part.
Why?
Because his fan club had a gravitational pull worse than a black hole.
Every time someone said, “Mydei is over there!” and when Phainon turned his head, all he saw was a wall of heads.
Students huddling around the hallway corners. First-years and even third-years line the stairs just to 'accidentally' walk the same path. People whispering, pointing, and comparing him to Phainon like they were characters in some rival-royalty drama.
He overheard things like:
“Mydei doesn’t smile as often as Phainon, but if he did? Game over.”
“Phainon’s loud. Mydei’s cool. It’s obvious who the real prince is.”
It was exhausting.
Sure, someone had shown him a photo once.
A zoomed-in, shaky shot clearly taken from behind a bush. He could barely make out the blond hair, and the lighting was awful. Mydeimos was mid-step, looking down, face partially hidden by a shadow.
“This is Mydeimos?” Phainon asked.
“He looks better in person,” the girl said dreamily.
“Yeah, of course he is.”
Phainon smiled, but he didn’t care about looks. He just wanted to crush him on the next exam.
At least, that’s what he told himself.
Until that day.
It was one of the boring classes. Phainon almost fell asleep, so he chose to doodle on his book. He already drew a giraffe dunking a basketball in his notebook, added flames to the basket, and was halfway into adding sunglasses to the giraffe when he overheard it.
"...yeah, they said Mydei's class is having PE today. They’re out on the field.”
The words barely passed the lips of the girl in front of him, but they might as well have echoed off the walls.
He didn’t mean to look, really.
It was just a reflex. A natural, dumb, human response.
Just a glance outside.
He spotted Mydeimos through the sunlit window, past the clutter of gym equipment, the goalposts, and the green sprawl of the field.
Just like that.
Mydeimos.
It was stupid, how easy it was to tell.
There were plenty of students out there, stretching, jogging, and goofing off.
But he stood out even in the chaotic crowd.
A mix of blond and red hair, slightly tousled by the wind.
Long legs, well-built muscle, and dark gym clothes that clung a little too tight around his torso. He crouched by the starting line, tying his hair back lazily into a small ponytail.
Phainon’s heart gave a tiny punch against his ribs.
That’s him, he thought.
That’s the guy everyone’s been talking about. The quiet prodigy. The history nerd. The one who could probably kill someone with a well-aimed glare.
He watched, staring as Mydei stepped into position.
The coach raised a whistle.
Phainon leaned closer to the window, just slightly. Naturally, not suspiciously.
Then, the whistle blew.
And Mydeimos ran.
And he was fast.
Not just impressively fast. No, this was different. His run was clean and controlled. Every stride was like it was drawn in one smooth breath. Like he became one with the wind.
The rest of the world blurred.
All Phainon could see was him.
His heart did something weird. Something embarrassing. Something traitorous.
It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. Not while zoning out during a lecture. Not while wearing mismatched socks and holding a pen with chew marks.
But it did.
A gut-punch, full-throttle, high-speed homerun to the chest.
Phainon didn’t even know the guy.
He only knew the name, and now he knew the shape of him in motion.
And somehow that was enough to make his whole world tilt a little.
Phainon saw Mydei pass the end line.
Just for a second. Barely more than a blink.
But Phainon saw it.
A small tug at the corner of Mydei's lips. Subtle, unguarded, almost like he didn’t know anyone was watching.
Phainon felt it like a slap to the soul.
Bullseye.
There was no way to save himself now.
His hand clenched around his pen, and it snapped in half.
“...Ah.”
He looked down at his notebook.
The giraffe now looked stupid. Everything looked stupid. But he was the most stupid.
After all, something in his chest flipped for Mydei and it did not flip back.
They weren’t in the same class. Their clubs were different. They shared nothing but a building, and even that felt too vast to bridge.
So, Phainon started to watch from afar.
At first, just little things.
He started take a note of the PE class.
From his classroom, he had the perfect angle of the field. Not that he stared. Okay, maybe he did. But only during water breaks. Or when Mydei stretched, arms overhead, shirt riding up just slightly, sweat glistening down his pretty face...
Phainon gulped each time.
Then, Phainon began taking the long route home. He told his friends it was for air or scenery or whatever excuse sounded least suspicious that day.
In truth, he memorized Mydei’s running route.
Not in a creepy way.
Just in a hoping-to-casually-bump-into-him-and-exchanging-look kind of way.
It never worked.
Mydei didn’t look at him.
But Phainon still walked the path. Every afternoon. Even when it rained.
And once, just once, when he forgot his umbrella and stood sulking under the eaves of a closed bookstore, Mydei ran past, wearing a raincoat.
He didn’t stop.
But he glanced sideways.
Their eyes met.
Just for a second.
And Phainon’s heart hasn’t quite settled since then.
There was also time where Phainon deliberately took a different bus stop to school, took a walk ten minutes to reach it.
The stop was empty.
He almost gave up.
Then, just as the wind picked up, Mydei appeared from the other end of the street. His tracksuit jacket unzipped, hair tied loosely, earbuds in.
He stood two people away from Phainon.
Didn’t look at him.
Didn’t speak.
But Phainon didn’t mind.
It was the best twenty minutes of his life.
Phainon then started to learn things by observation.
That Mydei liked sweets. Or that Mydei always folded any wrapper neatly before throwing it away.
That he drank pomegranate juice during lunch. Every day.
That he had the habit of lightly tapping the edge of his tray three times before he picked up his cutlery.
Phainon tried to make effort once. He casually, walked through the cafeteria with his tray and, somehow, he just happened to sit next to Mydei.
Their eyes didn’t meet.
Mydei didn’t even look up.
But Phainon’s palms were sweaty for the next fifteen minutes and he barely remembered what he ate.
He never found the courage to speak.
What would he even say?
"Hi, I know your bus schedule. I like the way you blink when the sun’s too bright."
"Hi, I think you’re beautiful and terrifying and I never hear you talk but it already echoes in my head."
He couldn’t. Everything he thought of always sounded so creepy.
So he watched.
And waited.
Hoping the world would someday shrink just enough for him to finally align his orbit along with Mydei's.
And then, one whole year passed. People still tried to rank Phainon and Mydei. Phainon always won in popularity but other than that, Mydei won. He even ranked first for the whole grade. They relationship remained as two persons barely crossing path that Phainon started to think that Mydei was living in alternate space.
Now, they were on second year and finally, FINALLY, the chance fell upon him.
He arrived that day, checked the seat chart he got from his friends twice.
Then a third time.
Then he checked again.
His name. Right there. Seat 19. Back row, next to the window. Perfect seat but the name for the seat in front of him?
Mydeimos.
Seat 18.
He blinked, stared, and blinked again. He was certain this was a prank. A dream. Some cruel, beautiful mirage stitched from every late-night wish he’d never dared say out loud.
Same class. Same row. Directly behind him.
Behind. Him.
“Oh, wow...!"
He ran.
He actually ran to the classroom.
He ignored the bells. Skipped two steps on the stairs. Swung into the hallway.
He arrived breathless, hair a mess, blazer half-falling off his shoulder.
The teacher scolded him instantly.
“Running in the hall again? You’re a second year now, Phainon! Get a grip.”
“Yes, I'm sorry!” Phainon wheezed.
But he barely care about the lecture.
Because his eyes had already found him.
There, near the window.
Mydei.
Already in his seat, perfectly calm, already pulling out a book. His legs crossed at the ankles. His uniform immaculate. His head slightly tilted, golden eyes scanning the page.... and glasses.
Thin, silver-rimmed reading glasses perched on the bridge of his nose.
Phainon stopped walking.
He had to. Otherwise he might've passed out.
It was new information. Deeply important. Game-changing, even. He’d never seen Mydei wear them before. Not during PE, not at lunch, not when he ran or walked home.
And somehow, they made him even more...
“Move Phainon! You’re blocking the aisle.”
“A, ah, right, right. Sorry! Hahah."
He slowly reached his desk.
His heart was beating at triple speed. He played so many scenes in his head. Rehearsed it like it was a script to an audition that could change his life.
There were variations.
Some had him confidently saying “Morning” and pulling out a pack of cookies to offer casually. But, dang, he didn’t pocket any snack today.
Another thought had him doing something cool, like leaning back and sighing poetically. But he didn’t even know how to exhale without sounded like a pervert.
The version he’d settled on today went something like:
"Hey. Looks like I’m stuck with you this year." Grin. Tilted head. Smooth, unbothered.
Simple. Safe.
Except they had never talk to each other so it would sound so unnatural.
Phainon decided to a simple hello, a neutral greeting. However, as he reached for his chair, backpack sliding off one shoulder, breath caught in his throat, he opened his mouth to deliver the line....
“Phainon!”
A hand yanked his arm sideways.
He stumbled.
“Huh? What?”
“Bro! You’re in our class this year too? Man, you’re lucky. Come here, did you see the new PE schedule? It’s chaos.”
Phainon looked over his shoulder helplessly as his moment was snatched from his hands. Mydei didn’t turn around. He stayed still, reading, one finger idly turning the page.
The glasses were still there.
The sunlight caught the edge of the frame, made them glint faintly.
Phainon sighed.
Maybe later, he told himself.
And yet, this 'later' somehow didn’t come!
He didn’t know why but he lost his ability to speak. And the class didn't wait for him to collect himself. Everything became more challenging now.
The reason? Because he could see everything.
The little tilt of Mydei’s head when he was focused. The way his pen always hovered for a second before he started writing, as if calculating the precise moment to begin. The soft flick of his finger to push his glasses up when they slid too low. The way his shoulders shifted when he exhaled, subtle and slow.
Phainon noticed all of it.
Every small habit, every rhythm.
Mydei would occasionally stretch during class. Just a slight roll of his shoulders or a lazy twist at the waist and the hem of his shirt would pull slightly upward. And Phainon, the school idol, would choke on his own spit and pretend to reach for his pencil case to recover.
He wasn’t proud.
During a particularly dull history class, Phainon opened his notebook and started doodling.
Not the subject.
Not the notes.
Just tiny things.
A sketch of messy, fluffy hair.
A stick figure with glasses.
And below it:
“Approach Plan #23: ‘Drop your pen, pretend to need help, impress him with your handwriting??’ Nah, my writing is messy.”
That one got scratched out.
“Plan #42: Compliment his juice? ‘Pomegranate, huh? Nice choice.’ Wait no that’s weird. He would question how I know he drink that juice.”
He sighed dramatically and covered the corner of the page with his hand.
He had at least five pages full of these now. Little scenarios. Daydreams. Half-thought dialogues where he said something witty and Mydei actually replied, maybe even smiled.
They were all equally useless.
Because in reality?
Nothing changed.
They only ever interacted in passing moments.
Like when Mydei turned around to pass him a worksheet, Phainon somehow forgot how to breathe. Their fingers brushed once, barely. Phainon stared at his finger like it had just been touched by a divine being and wondering if Mydei could feel his heartbeat.
Another time, Mydei accidentally dropped his mechanical pencil. It rolled beneath their desks and Phainon snatched it up like he was diving for treasure.
He handed it back.
Mydei said, “Thanks.”
Phainon responded with a high-pitched, “Y-yeah!”
Then spent the next twenty minutes wondering how weird his voice must’ve sounded and why his palm was still warm from touching a stationery item. He didn’t even hear the next ten minutes of the lecture.
And also, there was The Hair Incident.
It wasn’t an incident, exactly.
Just... temptation.
Mydei's hair was often tied into a low ponytail or bun, not so tidy but still looked good on him.
And from behind, his mane looked so soft.
Phainon stared at it for a full minute.
Probably more.
He reached forward.
Then stopped.
His hand hovered midair, completely frozen, like some tragic statue of regret. He imagined the headline: “Phainon, Second Year, Grabs Mydei's Hair. He Gets Expelled for Being Weird.”
He pulled back immediately.
Later at night, he had a dream of playing with Mydei's hair. Brushing, braids it. He felt so naughty.
Alas, every day, Phainon told himself he’d talk to him properly. Just once.
But every time Mydei turned slightly, Phainon panicked and looked out the window like it was the most fascinating thing in existence.
He didn’t know what scared him more: being ignored, or Mydei actually answering.
So he stayed quiet.
And filled the margins of his notebook with tiny little pieces of a crush he didn’t know how to let go or how to even make it proper.
Nonetheless, the class wasn't actually that awful, despite the temptation. Phainon could still enjoy his moment to silently adoring Mydei.
However, then came the first cause of his domino effect. PE class.
It started when the teacher called for a practice sprint.
Phainon jogged up to the track, just going through the motions with some lazy stretching.
And Mydei was already there.
Hair tied low. Arms crossed. A glance over his shoulder, those golden eyes were sharp and unreadable.
And the class immediately lost its mind.
“Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god. It’s happening.”
“Battle of the Princes! Place your bets!”
“WHO’S GONNA WIN?!”
“Ready!” the teacher called.
Phainon had a quick glance at Mydei.
Mydei raised an eyebrow. Not smug. But something in Phainon found the gaze was challenging him.
( Oh. )
( Oh no. )
Phainon’s pride activated like a trap card.
"Set," the teacher shouted.
This wasn’t about love anymore.
This was about winning.
“GO!”
They dashed.
The wind tore past his ears. His heartbeat pounded in sync with his feet. Mydei ran ahead by a breath. Just a breath.
And Phainon hated that.
By the time they reached the finish line, Mydei crossed a hair earlier. Silent, steady, unbothered.
Phainon bent over with his hands on his knees, breathless, then looked up at Mydei.
Still unreadable. Still a little dazzling.
“Nice run,” Phainon managed.
Mydei looked at him. Then, just the tiniest, briefest smile appeared. "You too."
Phainon’s heart? Gone. Ashes.
But so was any chance of talking normally.
Because from that day on, every PE class became a battlefield.
Who could finish the obstacle course first? Who could do the most pull-ups in a minute? Who had the better reaction time during dodgeball?
And no matter what, neither of them would back down.
Phainon didn’t even start half the contests. But Mydei was just there, doing the same thing, and before he knew it, boom, competition!
He lifted the tire? Mydei lifted two.
Phainon blocked five goals in soccer? Mydei scored six.
Phainon ran a full lap under two minutes? Mydei passed him with exactly one second to spare.
Worst part?
Neither of them said a word about it.
They just silently, stubbornly, constantly one-upped each other.
And yeah, the class noticed. Oh, they definitely noticed.
“Did you see that look Phainon gave Mydei?”
“Do they ever not compete?”
“I’m betting on Phainon this time. He’s in beast mode today.”
“No way, Mydei’s form is flawless. It’s giving Olympic athlete.”
Phainon wanted to scream. There was no beast! Just a fool wanted to get along with Mydei, maybe normally exchanging greeting.
But sadly, the competition soon expanded to the classes.
Even the teachers had started to do the same: pair them up, or worse, pit them against each other. "Friendly competition," they said.
It started with a debate, they opposed each other about banning smartphone in school.
Phainon was on the pro side. And across the room, Mydei, with arms crossed like a professional lawyer.
Mydei spoke first.
Calm. Articulate. He didn’t raise his voice or use exaggerated gestures. He didn't need to.
His words cut like a scalpel, logical and sharp.
“Curbing access doesn’t solve root dependence. Education and discipline should be taught, not enforced with punishment.”
Phainon crossed his legs and tapped his pen against his notebook. He hated that Mydei had a point.
He stood when it was his turn, plastering on that same bright grin he used whenever people stared too long.
If Mydei was cold precision, Phainon was all flair, tad dramatic, wide gestures, inflection bouncing just enough to sound passionate without being too theatrical.
“But unrestricted access has proven links to lower sleep quality and academic performance. Would you give a toddler a matchstick just because they should learn not to burn the house down?”
The class laughed. Phainon caught it: a flicker of Mydei’s lip, twitching like he was holding something back.
Not quite annoyance.
Maybe amusement?
But then Mydei stepped forward again.
"There’s a difference between a toddler and a seventeen-year-old,” he said coolly. “Unless the opposition would like to prove otherwise.”
“Oh,” someone whispered. “He’s calling Phainon immature.”
Phainon’s fingers twitched.
He told himself not to rise to it. He always tried not to. But...!
“You’re right," he said. “Seventeen-year-olds should be capable of managing themselves. Which makes it all the more impressive how often some of us still spend hours on public Wi-Fi streaming animal videos between classes."
Mydei’s golden gaze snapped to him. There was no change in expression but the temperature in the room dropped like a stone.
“Are you implying something?” Mydei asked.
“Nooo,” Phainon said, innocent smile in place. “Just making a general observation.”
“That you clearly tailored for me.”
“Did I? Huh. Weird.”
“Wow,” someone muttered from the back. “It’s like watching a courtship ritual but they’re both armed.”
The teacher sighed, but didn’t stop them.
By then, everyone had stopped taking notes.
The rest of the debate was less of a structured argument and more of a polite brawl wrapped in academic vocabulary.
Phainon quoted data. Mydei dismantled it.
Mydei presented a case study. Phainon poked holes through it with jokes laced in statistics.
It was intense. Ridiculous. Strangely exhilarating.
That debate wasn't leaving a butterfly effect but it was storm. From there, everything had turned into a battleground.
Pop quizzes? A warzone.
The moment the teacher flipped the whiteboard and announced a surprise ten-question test, every student groaned, except two.
Mydei, who calmly pulled out his pen like he’d been waiting for this moment.
And Phainon, whose smile twitched like a spring pulled too tight.
The quiz ended in five minutes. Papers collected. Results announced ten minutes later.
“We’ve got two perfect scores. Mydeimos and Phainon.”
A few classmates clapped, but most just groaned in unison.
“Ain’t they tired?” someone muttered.
“No,” another replied. “Because neither of them knows how to lose.”
“Or share first place,” said a third.
Phainon stared at his paper with a hollow laugh.
It was the first quiz where both he and Mydei got perfect scores. Last quiz, Phainon won. On the next one, Mydei won. It was always like that.
He glanced sideways.
Mydei didn’t look back. Just casually tucked his paper away and flipped open his literature notes.
Phainon clutched his pencil and gave a silent scream into the abyss of his soul.
Group studies didn’t help either.
There was one time, the teacher asked the top five students to mentor underperforming ones in pairs. Naturally, Mydei and Phainon ended up in different groups, but in the same library corner.
And naturally, they overheard each other.
“Actually, mitochondria aren’t just the powerhouse of the cell. They’re also involved in calcium signaling,” Phainon said, trying his best to sound casual.
From across the table:
“That’s true,” Mydei said. “But that’s not on the exam.”
Phainon smiled too sweetly. “Are you saying I shouldn’t give them extra knowledge?”
“I’m saying you’re overcomplicating mitochondria for students who are still mixing up RNA and DNA.”
“Oho? And yet you’re teaching stoichiometry before they even grasp molarity?”
Silence.
The two struggling students between them exchanged an awkward glance.
“Uh, should we come back later?”
“No,” both said in unison.
They still ended up criticizing each other the whole lesson.
Later that night, Phainon collapsed face-first onto his bed.
“Why...” he groaned into his pillow, sniffled, “...everything turn into a competition with him?”
Every time they clashed, it made approaching Mydei normally ten times harder.
Still, Phainon couldn't help but to answer the challenge each time.
Because he didn’t want to lose, especially not to Mydei.
And catching Mydei smiling, although mostly mockingly, gave him a boost of dopamine.
"I'm so stupid..."
It was already late when basketball club ended.
Most of the members had gone home but Phainon decided to stay late. For the sweat. For the rhythm. For the way the ball made sense when nothing else did.
He dribbled lazily, played a few quick rounds with the friends, laughed until his lungs ached.
Then he made his way back up to the classroom, sweat cooling on his back, towel slung around his neck, bag half-zipped. He left a textbook in class so he traced his way back.
The hallway to the classroom wing felt oddly cavernous at this hour. A soft golden light poured through the high windows, mellow with the last warmth of a dying sun. Dust shimmered in the air, undisturbed.
When he reached the classroom, he pushed open the door without much thought.
And he stopped.
Because someone was still there.
Curled slightly over the desk by the window.
Asleep.
Mydei.
Phainon didn’t move.
For a full minute, he just stood.
Like if he even breathed too loudly, the scene would shatter and vanish.
Mydei was resting his head on his folded arms, eyes closed, lashes fanned against pale skin. His fluffy hair spilled over the edge of his elbow, catching the soft hue of the sunset that filtered through the glass.
He looked peaceful.
Ethereal.
And for once, without the usual wall of indifference he wore while awake, he looked vulnerable. Human.
Phainon held back his breathe. His heart stuttered.
Then, he stepped closer, careful, quiet.
Just enough to see him better.
And before he could stop himself, he whispered.
“Man, you really are beautiful.”
The words slipped out too naturally. Like he’d been holding them in for too long, and now they were just tired of being quiet.
(Just a minute,) he told himself. (Just… let me look.)
He walked slowly, almost on tiptoe, to the seat beside him and sat down. The chair let out a quiet creak as he lowered himself, careful not to startle him.
He leaned forward, rested his arms on the desk, and tilted his head.
And just watched.
Mydei's lips were slightly parted. His brow faintly furrowed, as though he dreamed of something serious. His hand twitched once, and a quiet sigh slipped out.
Phainon’s lips curled up, helplessly.
“You’re really unfair,” he whispered, barely louder than the wind.
And then, softly, he started to talk.
“It's been three months.”
He exhaled, fingers fiddling with the hem of his shirt.
“Three months of competing with you. Pop quizzes, debates, group assignments, PE drills, hell, even who could get to the cafeteria line first.”
No answer, of course. Just the soft sound of Mydei’s breath, steady, quiet.
Phainon rubbed the back of his neck, grinning awkwardly. “And I swear I’ve memorized all your habits. You always fold your arms. You scowl when you’re focused. You like sweets and pomegranate juice. But still, you watch your calories and eat balanced food. You hate being late, even by a minute. I remember the rhythm of your tap when you are about to write something... I can even recite all the books titles you read in these past months..."
He held his breath. Mydei’s bangs had fallen across his eyes, and Phainon found himself reaching out, stopping just right before brushing them aside. He sighed, dropping his hand.
“And yet, I still haven’t had a single normal conversation with you. I talk to everyone. I’ve hosted class events. I’ve been interviewed on the school news for winning regionals. I can talk to complete strangers without blinking.”
He stared at the boy asleep before him, helpless and quietly defeated.
“But you?” he whispered. “You open your mouth, and I forget how to be a human being.”
He sat on the edge of the desk beside Mydei, his voice low and uneven.
“It’s not even just the competition. I mean, yeah, I hate losing, but with you, it’s different. Every time you raise your hand in class, my body just moves. Like my brain goes: ‘Oh, he’s doing it? You’re doing it too.’”
He laughed at himself, running a hand through his sweat-dampened hair. “You probably think I’m some over-competitive loudmouth.”
Silence engulfed them for a moment. The soft rustle of leaves outside. The creak of the building settling.
“You know, I like you, Mydei.”
He didn’t say it loudly. It was more like a soliloquy, after all.
“I like you so much it’s making me lose sleep and sanity. And I know it’s stupid, because I’ve probably dug myself into this hole of always being your rival. I mean, you’ve never said more than a sentence to me that wasn’t about class, scoring or gym class.”
He rubbed the back of his neck again, eyes shut for a second.
“But I can’t help it. You’re just... you're so beautiful. All the time. When you’re focused. When you’re annoyed. When you win. Even now, asleep like this.”
His eyes softened as he looked at Mydei again.
“And maybe I’m scared to mess it up. If I break the pattern, the routine, maybe everything will fall apart. Maybe you’ll pull away. Maybe you already don’t care.”
His voice dropped, a bit more fragile now.
“I wish I could talk to you. Just... talk. About everything or nothing at all. About your favorite color. About your favourite book. About animals. About what you do on weekends. About what kind of songs you like. Whether you hate milk or not.”
A pause. His smile turned sheepish.
“Having a crush sucks.”
He sighed and glanced out the window, light now mellow and low.
“Why am I even saying all this to a sleeping person?”
He said it with a chuckle, because that’s what he always did. Smiled through everything.
Even though something in him ached every time he thought about how everything might end without him doing anything.
A breeze slipped in through the window.
It was getting cold.
He looked down at his hands, then back at Mydei, unmoving, still in dream. The light dusted his lashes gold.
Carefully, Phainon shrugged off his team jacket and leaned over, gently draping it over Mydei’s shoulders.
He watched as the fabric settled against him.
“Don’t catch a cold,” he whispered.
For a moment, he lingered. The warmth in his chest ached.
Then he stood, cast one last glance at the sleeping boy beside him, and slowly made his way to the door.
He looked back once.
Mydei was still asleep, head on his arms, jacket draped gently across his shoulders.
The wind from the window ruffled a strand of hair over his cheek.
Phainon’s heart clenched.
“Have a nice dream, Mydei,” he whispered, almost to himself.
And then he stepped out, closing the door with a soft click behind him.
Click.
The moment the door clicked shut, Mydei’s eyes flew open.
He gasped, sharp, his hand flying instinctively to his chest. His face burned. His heart was racing, wild and uncontrollable, pounding against his ribs like it wanted to claw its way out.
He sat up slowly, as if he needed to be gentle to his own self. As if Phainon’s words still hovered in the air, weightless, invisible, but crushing in their tenderness.
And the jacket.
Mydei looked down at the yellow-navy outerwear now draped over his shoulders. He gripped the fabric with both hands, clutching it close, and buried his face into the collar.
The scent hit him like lightning: cedarwood, faint citrus, warmth. Something clean, something bright.
Phainon.
Mydei squeezed his eyes shut, blushing furiously. He wasn’t dreaming. He was awake for everything.
He’d stirred the moment Phainon entered the classroom, half-asleep, lulled by the breeze, but not quite gone. He'd felt the slight tremor in the air when the door creaked. Heard the shuffle of footsteps nearing, the chair beside him shifting with weight. Phainon’s presence was never quiet, not to Mydei. It rang in him like a bell.
And then, his voice.
Soft. Confessional. So achingly honest that Mydei couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe.
He missed his chance to stir, to lift his head and say something, anything. Because the moment Phainon started speaking, he couldn’t bear to stop him.
“I like you, Mydei.”
His breath hitched all over again.
He hugged the jacket tighter.
Because for the longest time, he thought what he felt was hopeless.
A one-sided affection. A crush. Something foolish.
But now...
Now he couldn’t stop trembling.
He lowered the jacket slightly, letting it slide down so he could see the owner's name on the back side. His fingers traced the embroidery slowly, almost absentmindedly.
Phainon probably didn’t even remember.
But Mydei did.
Their first meeting wasn’t in high school, not really. Not the way everyone thought.
It was during a district-level basketball match in junior high.
Back then, Mydei had gone with a few friends to support their basketball team at an away match. It was nothing serious, he hadn’t even cared much for basketball. But while the game was going on, he noticed the opposing team’s ace.
Tall. Bright. Smiling like he was made of sunshine.
Phainon.
Phainon had the ball, weaving between defenders like he was born for it. Sweat sparkled on his temple, his expression sharp, focused and then he grinned. Not a cocky grin. A sunshine smile, pure and bright, like he was having the time of his life.
And then, during a break, Phainon had looked up into the stands and smiled brightly, waving both of his hands like an energetic child.
Mydei was in the crowd back then.
Phainon probably didn’t even notice him.
But something in Mydei’s chest clicked.
No. More like flared.
He couldn’t look away.
He didn’t remember who won that match. He didn’t remember the score, or the cheering, or the name of the opposing school. All he remembered was that boy, with sky-colored eyes and a smile like summer.
And it never went away. The feeling rooted in him to the point he would watch the basketball match just to see Phainon's smile.
And when he knew they went to the same high school, he almost broke into pieces of smaller joy. His heart was beating thrice faster when they passed one another during his running route. He tried his best not to smile when they ended up on the same bus.
But Phainon was always surrounded. There would be no way they path crossed naturally.
And Mydei hadn’t find a way to make it less awkward.
Alas, he thought fate playing a cruel joke.
Because then, they kept getting pinned together as rivals. The top of the class. The pride of their clubs. One never far behind the other. As crazy as it sounded, those moments when Phainon focused on their 'matches' were the only time Mydei felt so close to the 'sun'.
He’d liked Phainon for so long that it started to hurt. He’d memorized his laugh, the way his hair curled slightly when damp, how he scribbled notes in messy shorthand, how he chewed his pen when thinking too hard.
Honestly, he thought Phainon avoided him, disliked him because Phainon always talked to others but never to Mydei.
He almost believed that he was insufferable existence for Phainon, considered how they kept beating each other's scoreboard.
Everything made it harder to breach the wall.
But now, now of all times, Phainon had shattered everything.
With his words. With his jacket. With his smile that Mydei never even saw today but felt all the same.
Mydei let out a slow breath and lowered his gaze to the desk. His hand curled into a fist.
“...HKS,” he muttered, shaking with disbelief. “You said all that and then just left. Who's the unfair one now?”
He looked at the door again.
The softest of smiles curved his lips.
Maybe, maybe the next time they met, he could be brave too.
Maybe, just maybe, tomorrow he’d turn around before Phainon went to his own lane.
The morning sun filtered through the windows, dust motes dancing like stars in a slow orbit. The classroom was still mostly empty, quiet except for the chirp of birds outside and the distant clatter of chairs being arranged. Mydei, as always, was already there, early not just out of habit or punctuality, but for the quiet moments he pretended weren’t his favorite.
And also for the one who sat behind him.
He never turned to look, but he knew exactly how it played out every morning. The crescendo of sneakers down the hallway, a chaotic mix of laughter and loud greetings, the voice that could light up even the dullest Monday. There was always some light scuffle with friends, always an apology for being late even if he wasn’t, always the effortless trail of sunshine that followed him in.
And right on cue...
Thump. Slide.
“Oi, I said don’t touch my juice!” A burst of laughter. “No seriously, give it back!”
Phainon.
Mydei kept his eyes on his book, pretending to read. His heartbeat had picked up, but his face was calm, unreadable as ever. He waited until he heard the familiar rustling of a bag being opened behind him. A textbook thudding softly on the desk.
Then, slowly, he turned.
He plastered a smile on his lips, casual, polite.
He didn’t usually do this.
But yesterday, Phainon had unknowingly broken something wide open in his chest.
“Good morning, Phainon.”
The words landed like a firework going off in the middle of summer silence.
Behind him, Phainon froze.
He short-circuited.
There was a tiny gasp, followed by an audible sharp inhale. Mydei didn’t even need a good look; he could imagine the exact expression: wide eyes, brows jumping, mouth slightly parted, a brain buffering at full speed.
It took three full seconds before Phainon responded.
“G, Good morning, Mydei."
With a soft scoff, Mydei reached for the tote bag he’d placed on his desk earlier and lifted it with both hands, offering it without drama.
Inside was Phainon’s jacket, freshly washed overnight, the fabric still faintly carrying the scent of detergent and the lavender sachet Mydei kept in his laundry cabinet.
“Thanks,” he said, calmy. “For lending this.”
Phainon blinked.
Then gasped again like it was the most shocking event in recorded history.
“Oh! Yeah! I mean, yeah, totally, not a big deal at all!”
He grabbed the tote as if it were made of fragile glass, holding it awkwardly like he didn’t know what to do with his hands. His smile was bright, but something in his gaze flickered, just the faintest hint of adoration, like he hadn’t expected Mydei to talk to him first.
Mydei arched a brow. “You’re loud even when you’re not trying.”
That only made Phainon laugh, sheepish, scratching the back of his neck.
“I get that a lot.”
“I bet.”
They stood in silence for a beat, Phainon still holding the tote awkwardly, Mydei still half-turned in his seat.
Then, quietly, so quietly it might’ve been drowned by the ambient morning noise, Phainon said, “You washed it.”
Mydei shrugged, looking away, but his lips twitched. “Would’ve been rude not to.”
Another pause.
“…It smells like you,” Phainon murmured before his brain caught up and his whole face flamed. “I, I mean! Not in a weird way! I just meant, err, nice detergent! Yeah!”
Mydei chuckled, low and amused, before finally turning back to his seat.
"You’re so weird." He shook his head. "I'll take it as compliment, though."
He reached up, adjusted his glasses slightly, then opened his book again like nothing had happened.
But in the quiet of that moment, the air between them felt warmer.
Phainon had absolutely no idea what their homeroom teacher said that morning.
Nothing.
He was physically present in class. Mentally? Somewhere in the stratosphere.
Because Mydei had greeted him.
Not just a simple greeting but Mydei turned around, looked him in the eyes, and said “Good morning, Phainon.”
With his voice. Calm. Soft. So casual.
Like he hadn’t just lit Phainon’s soul on fire.
Mydei returned his parka clean and now, Phainon could smelled they shared the same scent. Probably just detergent but still, it made Mydei felt so much closer.
Phainon scribbled nonsense in the margin of his notes. At some point, he was pretty sure all of his textbooks had nothing but "Good Morning, Phainon" written all over it.
His fingers itched. His heart wouldn’t slow down.
It was like someone had thrown a pebble into still water and now the ripples wouldn’t stop.
( Why? What happened? Did I enter an alternate timeline? Did the end of world came today so the universe being nice to me?? )
Phainon almost broke his pencil in half. He stole glances at Mydei throughout class.
The other boy was back to his routine, quietly opening the book, resting his cheek against the other. Completely composed.
Meanwhile, Phainon was experiencing a full-blown emotional tornado.
But maybe this was it. The sign. The turning point.
Maybe now, finally, he could do something.
When the homeroom teacher left the class, he took a deep breath. Then another. Then immediately started sweating.
( All or nothing! )
And without thinking too hard, tapped him on the shoulder.
Mydei turned.
Phainon’s brain stalled.
But there was no turning back now.
“Uh, lunch? I mean...do you wanna grab lunch together later?”
He grinned, wryly.
There.
He said it.
Then immediately regretted it.
(Was that creepy? Was that weird? Did that sound like I was stalking him?? I sounded too eager. Way too eager. He’s definitely going to say—)
“Sure.”
Mydei nodded.
Just like that.
So simple.
Like it was another normal day.
Phainon blinked. “Huh?”
Mydei tilted his head just slightly. “I bring my own lunch box today, though? Is that okay with you?”
"Y, yeah! No problem! I'll just grab from cafeteria then we'll meet up!"
"It's okay. I can walk you to the cafeteria. We can eat at the bench near the court afterwards."
"Oh, is that okay? I thought, you know... People gonna talk and noisy about it?"
Mydei shrugged. "Let them talk."
"Oh, okay. Right. Hehe."
Mydei then turned back to the front, their Biology teacher just walked in after all.
And Phainon?
He almost ascended.
He felt his soul leave his body and take a victory lap around the school rooftop.
Every nerve in him lit up like a festival.
He grinned, too big, probably, couldn’t stop thinking about one thing:
( He said yes. He said yes. He said YES!!! )
And for once, he didn’t have to pretend not to smile.
After all, he was sure this would be the official start for him to take some steps closer to his crush.
Or so, he thought.
“Oh, right.”
Phainon tilted his head.
Mydei had turned around in his seat again, passing back the worksheet the teacher handed out moments earlier. His hand moved lazily as he dropped it on Phainon’s desk, but his golden eyes held a glint that made Phainon’s heart skip.
Then came that smile.
The infuriating, lopsided smirk that curved just a little more on one side. It was the same one Mydei wore when he beat him by 0.3 seconds in the last PE class or when he won the quiz. Phainon knew he should be offended by it.
He wasn’t.
He might have been in love with that smile.
“If you want to keep things as secret,” Mydei said, his voice was just loud enough for Phainon to hear but not enough for others to notice, “maybe don’t say it in front of the person you’re talking about.”
His tone was solemn. Too casual.
“Even if you think they’re asleep.”
And then, just like that, he turned around again. Like he hadn’t just wrecked Phainon’s entire emotional support system with one line and a smug little smirk. He faced the teacher. Pen in hand. Calm as ever.
Meanwhile, Phainon froze.
Completely disconnected.
His face was burning, his thoughts were looping into incoherent screams. He curled over his desk like he faced his final moments, chewing on the inside of his cheek, whispering prayers to every deity in existence.
( Let the earth swallow me whole. Right now. Please. )
Phainon didn’t know from which point he woke Mydei up with his ramblings. But no matter which, he felt his whole life was over.
Phainon groaned under his breath and lightly knocked his head against the desk. While weighing the pros and cons of leaping out the second-story, he whispered, “I’m going to jump. I’m athletic, I can survive. Maybe I won’t even fall. I'll just evaporate with shame. Probably."
Just then, something slid quietly across his desk.
Phainon lifted his head, hesitant, cautious, but traumatized.
It was a folded piece of paper. Torn from the corner of a notebook.
He glanced ahead. Mydei hadn’t turned around. He sat perfectly still, posture pristine, pen twirling between his fingers like always. But Phainon saw it, that tiny twitch in his shoulder. A subtle lift. A shake.
Was... was he laughing?
Phainon unfolded the note.
In neat handwriting, a message was written:
[ Don’t jump. ]
Phainon’s jaw dropped a little. He stared at the note, then at Mydei’s back.
( He’s mocking me. He’s absolutely mocking me. )
His pride took a minor wound.
Grumbling under his breath, Phainon grabbed his notebook, scribbled something down with force that nearly tore the page. He ripped it off, crumpled it tightly, and flicked it with deadly accuracy at Mydei’s desk.
It landed on the edge with a soft thup.
Mydei paused in his note-taking.
Then, he opened it under his desk.
Inside, in bold, slightly messy scrawl but with adorable doodle:
[ Forget everything you've heard. I’ll just say it again. Right into your ear. At lunch. Be prepared! (╯°□°)╯︵┻━┻💢 ]
The tips of his ears flushed a bright, traitorous pink. His hand rose as if to rub his cheek. He folded the paper again, nonchalantly looking back to the front after he murmured, "Fool." which was easily heard by Phainon.
Phainon himself still slouched in his seat, glanced at the back of Mydei’s head with an exhausted huff.
But a grin tugged at his lips.
Never in his life he ever be this impatient whilst waiting for lunch. He was embarrassed, sure, but also hopeful.
Perhaps, things wouldn't be as grim as he initially thought.
**