38.

The first week of school was over. It was a pretty unremarkable week. I got to know somenew professors and reconnected with old ones. I braved the hot midday sun to queue up forfood at the cafeteria and played ROV (Arena of Valor) with my friends during free time.

The first day we saw each other again, Gus's eyes widened as he looked me up and downwith a big smile, while Seo asked :

"What the...who is this...?"

"He's so freaking handsome, my friend!" Nile's comment made me laugh.

"You're exaggerating," I shook my head.

They didn't ask too many questions. Mostly, we just chatted about America, New York-whatit was like, the weather, the people, the food (was it greasy?), did I get lost, what were thecinemas like? The three of them took turns asking questions. When we had nothing else totalk about, these were the typical questions you ask someone who's just returned fromabroad. Until today...

"Hey, did you hook up with anyone over there? Any hot guys?" The question came from Seowhile we were waiting for our drinks under the building. Gus and Nile's eyes immediatelydarted to me.

"What...?" I asked, taken aback.

Another person's face was clearly in my mind, but I wouldn't tell anyone about him,especially not these three.

"Do they like that kind of style over there... the Asian, Chinese look?"

"I don't know. It depends on the person, right?"

"So you're saying someone must like you then," summarizing, "Who? Tell us."

"No one. Who am I supposed to be talking about? I mean, there are so many people, theymust like all sorts of types."

"Oh yeah?" Nile narrowed his eyes, smirked, and teased.

"Yeah, what? No one, I swear!" I insisted. I wanted to get up and go wait for my drink, butthat would look suspicious, so I decided to stay put.

Anwar... I had never really considered what kind of style Anwar liked. I'd never seriouslythought about it because from what I'd seen, he dated all types. The only thing they seemedto have in common was... I don't know... a strong sense of self, being cool and charismatic,I guess? But I'm not like that at all. That's why I wondered what he saw in me, but dwellingon it wouldn't help; it would only make things more painful.

I looked down at my phone, listening to my friends' conversation shift. In seconds, the topicchanged from me to the Dota game they played last night. Then someone poked merepeatedly on the back. When I turned, I caught Gus's eye. He nodded towards anotherdirection, then grinned, bowed slightly to a senior named Phim, and nodded to two otherfriends from our year who were behind him.

"Hi P',"

"Hey, hey, hey," a familiar voice made me pause. I heard Seo and Nile greet P'Phim, while Ididn't say a word, not even when I looked up and made eye contact.

"So, how's it going guys? Met any geniuses this year?" He scanned everyone in the groupbefore his gaze landed on me.

"No, we didn't go to that event," Gus answered.

I didn't like that look.

Discomfort crept over me. It was so uncomfortable I wanted to leave, but running awaywouldn't help. I'd rather stay here with my friends and let him endure this instead.I'd almost forgotten about my senior's debt. Strange, after we ended things so badly backthen, he never tried to contact me again, and eventually, he faded from my thoughts.

"Blue, what are you doing later? Heard our year's going out for drinks after classes tonight,"he turned and directly invited me.

"I'm not going."

"Going straight home?"

"Probably."

"I'm going past your place anyway, I'll give you a ride," he decided unilaterally, and Iunconsciously furrowed my brows, trying to hide my displeasure.

"I can get home myself."

"P, Blue's going out with me later, we have to leave soon," Gus interjected.

"Gus, you're leaving already? Professor Chok just said he wanted to talk to you. I just camedown from your room," Ball, who was standing behind Phim, added. That stopped Gus in histracks. He made eye contact with me, as if apologizing for only being able to help so little.I never thought I'd see him again...

Whatever. It's probably just for a semester. It's not like we see each other every day.

"Then I'll go with P' tonight," I cut him off, knowing P'Phim wouldn't let me go easily. If it wasjust the two of us, I didn't know if I'd be dragged into a fight or not, but right now, I'moperating on "screw it" mode and don't care anymore. If Gus and Professor Chok get to talk,it'll probably go on for hours.

"I'm off. See you in the game," I stood up, paid for my drink, picked up my ice cream, andturned to say goodbye to my friends, who looked at me with a variety of expressions:

encouragement, apology. I nodded in farewell and followed P'Phim to his car.

"Blue, you haven't been replying to my messages," the moment it was just the two of us inthe car, he immediately posed the question, his sculpted face turning directly to mine. "Didyou block me?"

"I didn't block you."

"Then why haven't you read or replied to any of my messages?"

P'Phim's words made me pause. How could I respond when he hadn't actually sent anymessages?

"I don't know," I replied curtly, turning away to look out the window, signaling that I didn'twant to continue this conversation. P'Phim's gaze remained locked on me for severalseconds before he sighed, gave up, and started the car.

"Blue, are you still angry with me?" he asked casually after the car passed through theuniversity gates.

"I'm not angry anymore," More than just not being angry, I didn't feel anything at all. Thosetwo words barely covered the fact that I hadn't even thought about P'Phim lately.

"I miss you, Blue," P'Phim sighed softly. "What do I need to do for you to talk to me nicelyagain, like before?"

"Am I not talking to you nicely right now?" I retorted flatly.

I had no desire to talk, no desire to even look at him.

How could I have been so intensely in love with this person? Now, even if I tried toremember those feelings, I could barely recall them.

Time really does change things.

Last year, I thought he was so cool... Now he's just an ordinary person, nothing special. Soordinary that I can glance past him in a single second.

His words no longer set my heart racing like they used to, even though he was speakingsoftly, using a coaxing tone.

It was all indifferent.

Completely empty. It felt like I was talking to someone insignificant.

"Why are you still at this university, P'Phim? Didn't you finish your studies?" I'm a third-yearnow; P'Phim should have graduated already.

"I didn't register for enough credits during the summer, so I have to take them this semesterand next. Blue, you're doing your internship next semester, right? Are you going to thesame place I did? I can put in a good word for you."

"It's okay, I haven't thought about it yet."

"Blue," P'Phim's voice softened, glancing at me periodically while driving.

"Yes?"

"I still like you," he mumbled. "A lot."

From someone I once deeply loved, a sentence I once loved hearing, a sentence I oncecraved to hear... now, the only thing I feel is discomfort.

"I thought after four months of us not being together, of you not replying to me, that I wouldhave gotten over you. But seeing you today, talking to you like this... I realize I've never trulyforgotten you,"

What should I do? I'm so uncomfortable, I just want to disappear from here.

"P'Phim, I think... I think it's over. It's too late to be having this conversation," I tried toexplain.

"You don't like me anymore, do you?" It was a direct question, a real test of my feelings.Six months ago, I would have just silently hung my head to avoid answering. But now that Ino longer feel anything, everything is easy.

"I don't like you anymore," I replied, calmly and serenely, surprisingly so. "I'm sorry."

P'Phim's face showed a flicker of shock before he quickly composed himself. He drove insilence for several minutes, then parked near my house, just like he used to, because I didn'tdare let him drop me off at the door.

"Blue," he called, stopping me from opening the door. His dark eyes looked at me intently.

"You don't feel anything for me anymore? Not at all? Is that true?"

"..."

"I know I messed up a lot, made you unhappy many times while we were together. Now Iknow I was terrible," his handsome face was melancholic as he turned to me. "I really wantus to work things out."

I remained silent, having no response to what he said. My mind was blank as I heard allthose sweet words.

"If I said I'd improve, would you talk to me again?" P'Phim gently held my hand, lightlystroking the back of my hand with his thumb.

The touch made me pause, and I thought of another person doing the same thing to me.Though the actions were the same, the feelings they evoked were so different,incomparable.

"I don't know," I replied softly, trying to push Anwar's face out of my head. I regretted myvague rejection the moment I saw the other person's hopeful expression.

He didn't think that was a rejection like I did, did he?

"I'm not kidding, Blue. Just give me a chance, and I'll make 'us' better than ever before." Hisfirm words didn't make me happy or excited; instead, I felt even more empty.

"P'Phim, I don't think it'll work out that way."

"I can do it, Blue. Can you give me a chance to prove it?"

I pursed my lips. The person in front of me was getting worked up, and not in a good way. Istill had a whole semester to go. Even if he said he only had classes in other buildings, he'dprobably still be hanging around my faculty like before.

P'Phim was terrifying when he was angry or things didn't go his way. I remembered hisshouting and furious expression vividly.

One more semester. If I could avoid him, I would. I'd try not to see him. Let him do what hewants; at most, this situation would probably only last four months.

"Prove what? I'm not getting back together with you."

"We don't have to get back together... yet," he tightened his grip on my hand and gave me aslight smile. "If you say you don't feel anything, can I court you again?"

I didn't think that was a good idea.

But P'Phim preempted any further discussion. He raised my hand to his lips. Instead ofkissing me like I expected, he simply pressed it against his warm cheek.

"I'll really try for us, Blue. Anything you want me to do, just tell me."

Had he changed, or was it me who had changed?

P'Phim in my memory wasn't this annoying. He was charming. I used to love watching himsmile, and I liked the tone of voice he's using with me now.

Even though he's doing almost everything the same, it feels like he's a completely differentperson.

If it's just a matter of trying not to see each other often, a month wouldn't be that long, Iguess.

I pulled my hand back, tightened my tote bag, and prepared to get out of the car. I paused,thinking for a moment. It's something I've always done since I was dating him.

"Then, let's start by you stopping flirting with me. You might be used to it, but I'm not a girl. Idon't like it."





..




..




Anwar's pov:


Two months...

Since the autumn semester began, it's been a whirlwind of trying to juggle my schedule.Modelling work, plus my thesis, which requires weekly consultations and progress updates.I've tried to minimize modelling work - I initially thought I wouldn't take any until graduation,but the agency always manages to convince me to take on more jobs.

Most of my time is spent at the college and the studio. I hardly ever go back to my apartmentunless I finish my weekly work more than a day early. That's only happened once since thesemester started.

I feel like I'm constantly holding my breath, like an athlete forced by their coach to runforward with their head down, without knowing the destination. My focus is only on eachstep; I can't see the future, I don't have time to think about the past or anything else. I'm onlyfocused on what's in my hand at that moment. That's how it feels when I'm immersed inwork; and I've been living and breathing this feeling for over sixty days now.

Yesterday was a photoshoot for the board presentation, plus all the material shots for thecollection I'm working on. I slept for seven hours, just enough for my face not to look terribletoday.

Until today.

I blinked rapidly, chasing away the lingering grogginess in my head, looked away from myimage on the MacBook screen, and smiled at Jero, the renowned photographer who shotthis photoshoot. He's so efficient; the whole thing took less than five hours.

The crew and the model were going for drinks after the brand's club party. Jero invited me,and although I wanted a drink-it's been a while-I refused. It would be better to drink athome, at least I could get some rest.

I got home at 7 PM and was surprised to see Jasper and Jordan on the sofa. They weredressed better than usual; not in their usual boxers and oversized t-shirts, but in nicer casualclothes.

"What's going on?" I glanced at the numerous liquor bottles lined up on the counter, theneatly packaged cannabis in clear ziplock bags, and the beer.

"Jordan's idea," Jasper nodded towards the man who raised an eyebrow slightly.

"Me," Jordan stood up, approaching me and showing me his phone. It was the Tinder app;

the profile picture was a brown-haired woman, a bit of a bohemian style. "She's coming herewith a group of friends. Max is coming too. We're having a small party tonight, a littleget-together, because we've been too bored lately. You're sleeping here tonight?"

"I was planning to. I was going to invite you to drinks if I had seen you."

"Join us. They'd be happy to have you."

"Happy?" I repeated.

"These girls are incredibly hot, seriously hot stuff. One of them even mentions you in herTinder bio. Max is going to be heartbroken this time."

I faltered slightly at those words. My mind drifted back to the time when I was sleeping withmultiple people. Sex... I never thought I was addicted to it when it was readily available, butthe moment I decided to end all those relationships, it hit me hard during the first month.The more I thought of the one who was gone, the more I craved touch. It would have beeneasier to call someone over, but the mere thought of having to do that and look at anotherperson's face filled me with emptiness.

I can't, I don't want to... I don't know which word is more accurate, as both are true.

I don't want to sleep with others. I don't want to hug others.

It's agonizing because there are no other options. If I don't hug someone else, I can't huganyone, because the person I miss is no longer there to hug.

It's so simple and pathetic.

"I'll come out for drinks later," I nodded, clutching my MacBook and a thick fashionmagazine, walking back into my room without forgetting to emphasize our agreement. "Butdon't include me in that Tinder thing."

"You'll see soon enough!" Jordan yelled before falling silent after I shut the door behind me.I sighed heavily, hoping to expel the weariness from my chest. It felt even more desolatebeing back in this room, looking at the empty bed and the wardrobe with its empty space.Even though it doesn't take up half the closet, the visible emptiness reminds me of whensomeone else's clothes were hanging there.

He didn't even take everything. There were clothes left in the laundry basket, a large whitet-shirt he liked to sleep in, and his toothbrush and other toiletries still scattered in thebathroom and the bedroom.

I don't know if it was unintentional neglect or a deliberate act of mockery.

I looked at the crumpled t-shirt, neatly hanging on a mannequin I didn't use. I stepped closerand closer, stopping before it. Images of Blue wearing it filled my head.

A heavy weight pressed down on my heart, while the rest of my body felt light, hollow, empty.He never replied to any of my messages, no matter the platform. I didn't message him often;work and other things kept me busy. I only thought of Blue when I had free time, time thatallowed my brain to think about things other than projects, theses, and deadlines.

I leaned in until my forehead touched the soft fabric. My eyelids slowly closed, leaving onlydarkness.

It would be good if I were actually holding him, not just his discarded clothes.

"I'm so tired today," I murmured softly, knowing I was the only one who would hear it.

"..."

"I miss you so much."

"..."

"It would be so much better if you were here."

Over two months, I sent three messages and made one call.

Besides reading them, he never responded once. Really.

I haven't posted anything new on Instagram either.

I don't know how you are doing. Are you okay? Have you forgotten me already, like you saidyou would?

Don't forget me yet.

Don't give up on me yet.

Please.

I woke up at 8 PM, noticing the pencil still in my hand and the paper covered in scribbles andnotes. I left everything on the desk as it was and went to wash my face. Maybe tonight Ishould actually relax. I've been working so hard for months. A night off to forget everything,drink, and chat with friends would be nice.

Music and laughter drifted in from outside as I opened my door. I had no idea when this partystarted, but it seemed like many people adapted to it faster than expected.

There were ten people in the room, including me. Jordan, Jasper, Max, and Tom, who'sJordan's friend. I didn't know any of the women. I guessed they were all from Tinder. Inodded to everyone who looked at me before plopping down on an empty sofa. Max was tomy left, and to my right sat a petite woman with sleek, black, wavy hair that reached hermid-back. She had sharp features, enhanced by makeup that gave her a sexy look. Shewas wearing a white off-the-shoulder top that accentuated her figure and form-fitting low-risepants.

"Hi," I greeted everyone, smiling before returning a wider smile to the woman beside me.

"I thought you weren't coming," Jordan grumbled, handing me a drink from across the roombefore returning to his previous position, pressed close to the light-brown-skinned womanbeside him.

I didn't reply, pouring myself a whiskey while subtly observing everyone. Jordan was drinkingheavily; his face was already flushed. The troublemaker liked to get himself visibly drunk atparties to encourage everyone else to drink more. The woman next to him seemed to enjoyhis behavior, judging by their interactions. She was the same woman from Tinder that Jordanhad shown me. Jasper sat on a small sofa in the corner, his leg propped up, frequentlytaking drags from his joint while engaging in quiet conversation with a woman sittinglistlessly in an armchair.

The moment my lips touched the first drop of whiskey, goosebumps appeared. I'd been awayfrom it for too long. I'd had some drinks while working in the early days, but I had to admitthat this kind of drinking felt completely different.

It didn't take more than five minutes to learn everyone's names. I sipped my whiskey,listening to the hip-hop Jordan had put on, listening to everyone's conversations, laughingalong sometimes. By the twentieth minute, I finally picked up a joint, holding it tentativelybefore lighting it.

Sixty-plus days was enough time to reshape my habits, to stop focusing on so many thingsand concentrate only on what was right in front of me. Now, when I tried to stop thinkingabout the project and the thesis, I was forced to focus on everything happening now instead.Once the games started, everyone shifted from flirting to serious, heavy drinking.

Cheers and shouts erupted, with Jasper laughing loudly and pointing, "Got him!"

I shook my head, putting an arm around Tatiana, the petite woman beside me, and downeda shot of vodka in one go.

"Oh, my god..." she murmured, before turning to give me a wide smile that revealed herperfectly aligned teeth, and then softly laughing, "God."

Time passed, and everyone was automatically pushed into a feeling of intimacy. I ended uparm-in-arm drinking with many people, even my own friends, as punishment for the games.

"Oh, excuse me," Tatiana quickly said after she stumbled towards me while we weredrinking. Her smooth forehead brushed against my neck, leaving the faint scent of shampoofrom her hair.

"It's alright," I murmured, catching her arm just in time before helping her back into her seat.

"I thought I was pretty tough when it came to alcohol," she rolled her eyes with a smirk. "Atleast the toughest in my group."

"Seems that way," I laughed. Everyone was pretty drunk, but no one was completelyincapacitated. There was no vomiting, nothing messy like that. It was just the kind ofdrunkenness that made everything flow more smoothly.

We changed games throughout the night, taking turns winning and losing, facing variouspunishments. These ranged from taking four shots in a row, to arm-in-arm drinking with theother loser, to blindfolded kissing with whoever.

The instruction came before I could react to the punishment. Before I knew it, I was standing,being pushed forward by someone until my body was pressed against another personwhose hand fumbled against me. A crude thought flashed through my mind, causing me togrimace.

I felt a pang of guilt, and it might have been better if the blindfolded person had been Jordanor Jasper. At least, knowing it was a man, we wouldn't have had to force more than atwenty-second lip-to-lip encounter.

But the slender hand and soft touch pressed against my chest told me that wasn't the case. Istood perfectly still as the person in front of me started to touch around, searching for myface. Laughter, a soft gasp, followed by soft lips pressing against mine, made my heart beatrapidly, almost instantly.

The drunkenness, combined with a long sex drought, really hit me.

I tried not to touch her, fighting a fierce internal battle that lasted until the end of the kiss, myresponse as stiff as a wall. It was the worst kiss I'd ever given anyone.

Removing the blindfold and making eye contact with Tatiana, she raised an eyebrow slightly,looking embarrassed, pursing her lips even as she smiled broadly. She quickly returned toher seat on the sofa.

Jordan was the first to get up, taking Daniela's hand and leading her towards the stairs. Hebent down and hoisted her onto his shoulder. I glanced over as Daniela shrieked, hittingJordan's back hard, but at the same time laughing, seemingly enjoying it, before returning torefill her whiskey.

Less than five minutes later, Max got up. He grabbed his bag, waved goodbye to everyone,and headed up the stairs with Christie. A woman named Ella moved into Max's spot andstarted a conversation with me. Jasper kept passing around the joystick.

Ella was beautiful: light brown hair in loose curls, arched eyebrows, captivating doubleeyelids, a small, upturned nose, and full, shapely lips. She said she was Tatiana's roommate.We talked about viral videos she'd seen online before handing me the joystick and crossingher legs, pulling her short, form-fitting dress even higher to reveal her thighs.

"You know, we're really close, and we do almost everything together... almost everything,really."

I flinched, disliking the thought that immediately popped into my head and quickly pushed itaway.

Ella smirked, seeming to know what I'd understood. She met my gaze. "Tatiana follows youon Instagram, you know. I'm starting to think I should too."

She leaned closer, whispering something. I smiled wryly, offering no reply, already knowingwhere this party was heading.

Various thoughts flooded my mind. My hand kept automatically lifting my whiskey glass tomy lips, over and over, until someone, no, two someones, moved close enough for ourbodies to touch.

I took a deep breath, using my other hand to quickly wipe my face. It felt like time wasaccelerating under the influence of the alcohol. This situation was familiar; I'd beenpropositioned like this before. This wasn't my first time at a party like this.

A jolt of electricity shot down my spine as Tatiana used her long nails to lightly graze mychest.

Sex was something I could do without emotional involvement, focusing only on thesuperficial pleasure of physical attributes. It was something I'd never lacked since myteenage years. This was perhaps the first time in almost ten years I hadn't touched anyonefor this long.

And now, here it was. Two attractive, well-built, playfully flirtatious Latina women. We were ata party explicitly designed for one-night stands.

Everything clicked into place. My body felt awakened simply by the touch of both of them oneither side. My mind conjured images of naked bodies, but another part of me felt like I wasgoing insane.

Because the face I saw wasn't the one close beside me, but someone else, someone distantand unreachable.

My body ached with desire, but I was paralyzed, lost in thought.

Damn you, you're driving me crazy.

I slowly exhaled, leaning slightly forward before meeting the eyes of both women. Tatianaraised an eyebrow; Ella's surprise was unconcealed.

"I'm really sorry. You two are incredibly beautiful and sexy. Jordan probably didn't mentionit," I paused, observing their reactions. "But I'm here just to drink."

I spent a few more minutes rejecting their advances and apologizing. I caught Jasper'ssurprised gaze. He didn't say anything, just kept puffing on his joint before looking away tokiss the woman he'd been talking to all night. I used that moment to excuse myself from thesofa and retreat to my bedroom.

I collapsed onto the bed, staring at a plain white t-shirt.

The smell of alcohol lingered on my breath. I slowly cracked a smile, then let out a soft,foolish chuckle.

The desire was ignited, a throbbing ache throughout my body.

But you, thousands of kilometers away, you who haven't even replied to my messages andhave vanished from my sight for two months...

You have the power to make me drop everything and lie here thinking only of you.

What the hell did you do to me?

I gritted my teeth. When I opened my eyes, I saw Blue in an oversized white t-shirt, a fleetingglimpse of his backside as he bent down to pick something up or stood up. When I closedmy eyes, I saw a slender body rising to straddle me, bare legs pressing against the bed,close to my side.

'So if you can't have it, what will you do? Will you beg me or pay?'

'No. Don't let me beg. You should be the one begging me.'

The joint made everything feel sluggish. Beautiful faces overlapped, flickering behind myeyelids.

"Blue," I whispered, my whole body aching so intensely I had to quickly unbutton my shirtand rip it open.

Touching myself, I thought of the sweet moans that had once whispered in my ear, theslender waist that moved to the rhythm of his own...

"Please," I pleaded, my hands trembling as I moved rapidly, fueled by desire.

Slender eyes glistening with tears, lips bitten until they were swollen as he tried to stifle hismoans, a full hip pressing against me, teasing my body while his face was flushed withfrustrated desire.

"Blue, please."








..








..







Blue's pov:



November. Before I knew it, it was almost time for course registration again. Ugh.

I slid my assignment into the small slot of the submission box before cracking my stiff neck. Ifelt exhausted as I walked out of the professor's office and made eye contact with my teamleader, who was walking towards me with a frustrated expression. He quickly composedhimself as he reached me.

"Hey."

"Yes?"

"Did you go out with Day?"

"Day?"
"Day, the architecture student, a junior to you." He frowned this time, while I just softlymurmured, "Oh."

Day. Day was an architecture student at the same university. He was also a friend of Seo's,but I'd never met him or spoken to him until two weeks ago when Day came to see Seo inour building. During the short time we talked while waiting to smoke a couple of cigarettes,he asked for my Line, and then messaged me and we chatted that night.

I didn't think anything of it, and I couldn't say for sure if Day felt anything more than justmeeting a new friend he clicked with. He seemed friendly, approachable, and charming, likethose artsy kids, but not overly artistic. Overall, he seemed pretty normal, like someone Icould become friends with someday.

We played Dota 5 or 6 times after that. Then Day invited me to try gyudon near SaphanKwai, we drank two or three beers each at a Thai restaurant and then went our separateways in taxis. We played Dota one more time, got totally crushed, and then went to bed.That's all that happened.

I didn't understand why P'Phim was making that face and using that tone with me about it."Yes, why?" I asked back, starting to walk towards the elevator with his tall figure followingclosely behind.

"Blue, do you like Day?"

"Like? Do you need to know? Haha." I chuckled softly, knowing I could get away with thiswithout him punching me or yelling at me. For the past three months, I'd been trying to avoidconfronting P'Phim, slipping away when I saw him from a distance, or taking the stairsinstead of the elevator when I saw him waiting. I wasted a lot of energy. It didn't solveanything because he still tried to call me, and he kept waiting for me outside the classroomafter class. After only a little over a month, I stopped doing all that.

I let P'Phim do whatever he wanted and learned to directly refuse him without being polite.Once I realized he hadn't been considerate of my feelings during our relationship, doing thesame to him became easy.

I thought acting badly and speaking harshly would make him bored and back off, but I waswrong. P'Phim might actually enjoy this chase, even if he looked stressed and upset almostall the time.

His face fell when I said that, but he still wouldn't give up easily. "Day likes you, but younever went out drinking with him."

"How do you know? Did Day told you?" Seeing him hesitate, I continued, "If Day likes me,it's between Day and me. You don't need to worry on my behalf."

"But..."

"Phim, do you understand what I'm saying?" I interrupted, ignoring politeness. I stoppedwalking, looked him directly in the eyes until he gritted his teeth and nodded. Then I softlymurmured before continuing to walk, "Thank you."

In the elevator, we were silent. I drifted into thought, considering P'Phim's words about Day,trying to recall any small signs indicating he liked me more than as a friend. P'Phim usedthat moment to adjust his mood and expression. His tone completely changed when we leftthe building.

"We're going for drinks tonight, right? I'll drop you off after the movie."

"Okay, thank you." I didn't refuse because he'd texted me about this last week, before Ifound out the department was going for drinks. P'Phim and his friends, like P'Est, were goingto the same place today. If I refused, he'd probably pester me annoyingly all the way to thetaxi. I've refused to see a movie with him several times in a row. If I don't go this time, I'llhave to endure this forever. If I could clear up both issues today, it would be great.

P'Phim tried to change the tense atmosphere by chatting about other things: school,professors, a new movie he'd seen on Netflix. I smiled faintly and nodded along, not reallypaying attention.

I feel like I've become a terrible person...

Before, I wouldn't have dared to speak to P'Phim like that, and I wouldn't have dared to thinkhe'd be annoyed.

We arrived at the cinema, bought tickets and cheesy popcorn, and went inside. I can counton one hand the number of times I've seen a movie with P'Phim. He rarely invited me out.During our relationship, it felt like our dates were only at his apartment. Occasionally, we'dmeet at a bar and he'd move to sit next to me, but it felt more like a senior sitting beside aclose junior, not a boyfriend.

This kind of leaning his head on my shoulder also rarely happened.

I glanced at him, shifted slightly, then ignored him and focused on the large screen. Hisheavy touch remained in the same place, causing me to think of the person I've been tryingto forget.

This action from P'Phim didn't give me any butterflies or anything.

It wasn't like when Anwar did it.

I sighed at my own thoughts.

I try not to think about Anwar, but three months isn't enough time. During the first monthafter returning, I thought of him almost constantly. When I was sitting still, studying, washingmy face, eating, before bed, and when I woke up. It was little things, popping into my mindunexpectedly, making me remember things we did together. Maybe because we did so manythings together. Everything I do can be traced back to him.

I barely eat anything. I have no appetite, not even for my favorite dishes. Every breath,every step, every movement feels fragmented, gloomy. I don't want to do anything exceptthink about Anwar and cry myself to sleep every night like a loser.

One message from Anwar was enough to make everything harder. Much harder.

"I miss you." His short message, sent via Instagram direct message, stopped me in mytracks. My mind went completely blank. Then, I scrolled down and read the followingmessages:

"I hope you miss me too."

"Sometimes."

I used all my strength at that moment to force myself to close my phone, not replying, andtrying to forget what I saw.

It didn't help at all.

I still reread those messages many times, for many days, even though I memorized everyword.

I wanted to reply, I wanted to talk...I miss him. But I know doing so would only prolong thepain, deepen the wounds.

I'll never be able to move on if I keep talking to him.

I don't want to become someone who just keeps going in circles, endlessly crying to myself.That's why I logged out of Instagram and deleted WhatsApp. Even though I occasionally login to check, because I miss him, seeing new messages from Anwar only makes it harder tolet go.

Three months have passed, and I still think about him constantly. It's pathetic. Absolutelypathetic.

I was pulled from my thoughts when P'Phim grabbed one of my hands, his fingersintertwining with mine before tightening his grip. Glancing up, I met his gaze. Hiswell-shaped lips curved into a slight smile - the kind of expression he used when he wasbeing endearing. I saw this expression often in the early days when he first pursued me, andagain in the last three months.

I held his gaze for a long moment, studying his handsome face - a face I used to love somuch - and trying to find some deep, lingering feeling, some trace of the good feelings thatmight still exist. Finding only emptiness, I offered him a hollow smile, then turned back to thescreen.

I was pulled back into memory again. I barely followed the movie, my mind replaying thefeeling and image of Anwar holding my hand, his warm breath on the back of my hand, hisfingers lightly nibbling my fingertips as we playfully teased each other.

It was suffocating, agonizing.

But I couldn't stop thinking about it.

..








..










"Empty!"

"Last glass!" I frowned. The dizziness was getting to me. I felt lightheaded whenever I movedquickly, and I nearly fell backward several times because I couldn't keep my balance.

"Okay, last glass."

This happens every time I meet up with the larger group. There's always a competition withTon and Ya, who are the heaviest drinkers. They're incredibly strong drinkers and seem toenjoy pushing everyone to finish their drinks in one go, competing with themselves. I shookmy head, took a deep breath, and downed the rest of my beer in rapid gulps until only iceremained in the glass.

P'Phim chuckled softly, nudged me with his shoulder, and leaned in to whisper in my ear,"Are you okay?"

"Hmm," I mumbled, setting my glass down on the table and roughly ruffling my hair. It washot; the restaurant was hot. The more I drank, the hotter I felt. I glanced at the dozens ofbeer bottles crammed onto the long tables, easily holding more than ten people. We couldn'teven properly converse, and I seemed to have the worst luck, sitting opposite Ton and Ya.P'Phim hadn't drunk much, maybe two glasses. When I reached for my wallet, he stoppedme, insisting on paying. One thing that had changed was that P'Phim wasn't trying to hidefrom the group that he was pursuing me.

Many were surprised and came to ask me directly. It was kind of funny; they didn't evenknow we'd dated before. I hadn't told anyone, and I didn't confirm that P'Phim was pursuingme because it felt awkward.

Everyone assumed we were "talking," whatever that meant, and how we were "talking."

I started thinking about my relationship in America. If we weren't dating, then we weren'tanything, or at least we could define it as something we both agreed upon.

It would be easier to clearly define our relationship status, instead of this messy, ambiguoussituation.

P'Phim drove me home, just as he'd offered. I sighed, leaning back against the car seat,closing my eyes and trying to regain my composure. But that only made the dizzinessworse, so I opened my eyes again and tried to focus on something outside.

I felt his gaze on me periodically. When I looked over, I saw a look of concern and a gentlesmile.

"Are you alright? Going home drunk like this, will your parents scold you?"

Scold me? No way. I'd told them both about this. Drinking and university life were perfectlynormal in their eyes. My mother might even be a heavier drinker than me, back in hercollege days.

"What if it doesn't look good?"

"Nothing. If it doesn't look good, you can sleep in my room."

I met his gaze again, seeing both expectation and anticipation in his eyes.

"P'Phim... do you want to sleep with me?" I asked directly.

"No, did I make you think that?" His eyes widened, and he quickly looked back at the road,but ultimately glanced at me to check my reaction. "Actually, would you mind if I said Iwanted a hug? I haven't hugged you in a long time."

"..."

"I want a hug... I miss you."

'If I give you hugs every day, will we get tired of each other quickly?'

'If you don't want to do anything, just a hug is fine.'

What should I do... I want to hug you for a long time, I don't want to let go.

I fell silent, replaying his words in my head. At the same time, the car pulled into a dark,deserted avenue. A few streetlights provided minimal illumination. P'Phim unbuckled hisseatbelt and turned to look at me directly.

"Blue... for the past three months, do you believe I've changed?"

I saw nothing but annoyance, emptiness, and the question of why I ever liked this man.All his gentleness, friendliness, and charm were overshadowed by Anwar's actions. NothingAnwar did ever won me over or left a positive lasting impression. Absolutely nothing.

Even the pain inflicted by Anwar's relationship did more than this.

"I really miss you, Blue," he whispered, leaning close until I could feel his warm breath. "Doyou miss me too?"

I'm constantly thinking about someone else.

I'm constantly thinking about Anwar. Three months. That's almost as long as we knew eachother, yet why can't I forget him? The few months in America made me forget about P'Phim,someone I knew for much longer. Why doesn't time work the same way with Anwar?If I try things with other people, will I forget?

Like how I forgot about P'Phim because Anwar came along. Maybe that's the way to getover it.

"Are you going to kiss me?" I asked P'Phim, who was moving closer and closer.

He hesitated, then a flustered look appeared on his face, like he had done something wrongand been caught. Until I spoke the next sentence.

"Kiss me."

If I kiss someone else, will I forget the kisses we shared?

If I can forget, then do it.

So I don't have to suffer like this every day, every night when I unexpectedly remember.P'Phim's eyes gleamed strangely. He gave a small smile at the corner of his mouth beforepressing his lips to mine the instant I gave permission. The kiss was intense; at least, he wastrying to make it that way. Warm lips traced my mouth heavily, followed by his tongue forcingits way inside. He pressed on my tongue forcefully, then switched to sucking on my lips,making a loud sound.

It looked like a passionate kiss, full of the kind of desire you'd see in an erotic film, but I didn'tfeel a thing.

I felt nothing but discomfort, a queasiness that made me want to end it immediately.

I leaned back, gently pushing him away as a signal to stop, but P'Phim held my arms andcontinued to press his kisses relentlessly. When I protested, he pulled back slightly, changingthe pace of the kiss to something slower, but still self-centered and demanding.

P'Phim's kissing style... after experiencing a better kiss, I no longer considered him a goodkisser.

"Ugh," I protested, shaking my head away quickly. "P'Phim, stop."

"I still miss you," he murmured, pressing his face against the hollow of my neck, nibbling andtracing with his nose until I pulled my neck away.

"Stop, I'm going," I said again, turning my back so his lips pressed against the back of myneck and shoulder.

"Okay," he chuckled softly, lightly holding my arm. "Do you know how cute you are?"

I pursed my lips, glanced at him, and started to become annoyed.

He thinks I'm embarrassed.

Not at all. Not even a little. But it wasn't important enough for me to waste time explaining orjustifying myself.

"I'm going now. Thank you for the ride."

"Sure," he replied cheerfully.

I didn't say anything more. I got out of the car and walked quickly to the entrance of my alley.It was late, so there were no motorbikes in front. I spent another ten minutes walking to myhouse, thinking nothing but feeling disgusted, feeling bad about the touch that had justhappened.

I spent longer than usual showering, washing my face and mouth, even though I felt likecollapsing onto the bathroom floor.

The kiss didn't help me forget Anwar, as I'd hoped. Instead, it made me compare it to hiskisses, and I missed him even more.
I took a deep breath, staring intently at my phone screen as warm water welled up in myeyes. I looked at the few short messages he'd left:

'Are you okay? Miss you.'

A notification popped up showing a missed video call, and a video chat ended while I hadn'tanswered.

'Hope you haven't forgotten me.'

I pursed my lips. The longing was agonizing.

This was the first night since I returned that I drank so much and got this drunk, and whetherit was the alcohol or something else, I didn't appreciate it one bit when I pressed the callbutton to contact him.

The words "Connecting..." and his face appeared, lasting for several long seconds.Everything was still, as if time had stopped. Just as fear washed over me and I was about tohang up, the image suddenly changed, replaced by Anwar's face.

His handsome, well-defined features, which had haunted my memories for three months,looked much the same. There was only a slight stubble on his jawline and above his lip,showing he hadn't shaved, and a slightly tired look like he hadn't slept well. His brown eyeslocked onto mine before he murmured,

"Blue."

"Hmm," I murmured softly, "Anwar."

But seeing him move, hearing him say my name like that, was enough to freeze my entirebody. My mind went blank, a stark contrast to my heart, which beat faster and faster,becoming suffocating.

"Why..?" he simply said, before rephrasing. "I'm glad you called."

I tightened the blanket around me. He could barely see my face, hidden behind the pillow Iwas hugging, only my nose and eyes visible. In contrast, I had a clear view of him, and Icould see he was in what looked like a work studio.

I didn't reply.

"Is something wrong?"

"Why do you ask?"

"Because you never contacted me...and you ignored my attempts to contact you." His wordsmade me want to cry.

Just thinking about how much I'd wanted to talk, to hear his voice and see his face, made mynose burn even more.

"Because I miss you..." I replied briefly, my voice cracking.

Anwar's expression was impassive; it was impossible to guess what he was thinking orfeeling. He met my gaze through the phone screen, setting down whatever he was holdingand leaning back in his chair.

"Shall I come see you?" he asked in a low, soothing voice, like he was talking to a smallchild.

"Why?"

"Because I miss you too." That simple, unhesitating answer almost stole my breath away.

The ache in my chest intensified until I couldn't bear it anymore.

I shook my head and mumbled into the large pillow, my lips pressed against the fabric.

"You're saying something impossible."

"Why do you think it's impossible...if I want to see you, can't I just go to you?"

"..."

"What if I came to see you?"

I let out a choked laugh, realizing I was far too drunk. My heavy head made it impossible tothink straight. I burrowed deeper into the pillow, enjoying the warmth of the thick fabricagainst the cool air conditioning seeping in from beyond the blanket.

What if Anwar came?

I didn't know.

I'd never even considered it, because I knew Anwar would never do that.

Our relationship ended three months ago.

It's impossible.

No matter how much I love him and miss him, it's impossible. Especially now that we're sofar apart. Especially now that he doesn't feel anything special for me, no different than any ofthe many people he likes.

He likes many, so what? He doesn't love me back anyway.

Three months. I should have moved on by now.

I squeezed my eyes shut, lying still, imagining the scenario playing out in my head. I left thephone lying on the blanket, not daring to open my eyes and look at the screen. I didn't wantto know if what I'd just heard was only a fantasy.

What if Anwar came?

What if he came, and truly loved me?....

"It would be a wonderful dream, I suppose."