Chapter Text
War had been perfectly fine admiring Yin from a distance.
It wasn’t that he was shy. He just— didn’t see the point.
They weren’t in the same class. They didn’t have mutual friends. Their worlds barely touched. War was already juggling tennis practice, competitions, and schoolwork. Adding a hopeless crush on someone like Yin Anan Wong —the effortlessly cool, effortlessly charming student model who had half the school (and teachers) wrapped around his finger—felt unnecessary.
So, War kept his distance.
He wasn’t the type to make the first move, anyway.
He never needed to.
As the rising tennis star of KKU High, War was used to people coming to him —friends, admirers, and the occasional confession letter slipped into his locker. He wasn’t cocky about it; it was just how things were.
But Yin? Yin was different.
War didn’t want Yin’s attention. He just liked watching —in a totally normal, not-at-all weird way.
Like when Yin was goofing off with his friends near the courtyard, his laughter was loud and unfiltered. Or when he dozed off in the library, head resting on his folded arms, looking almost soft. Or during school events, when he’d flash a picture-perfect smile for the cameras, only for it to disappear the moment he thought no one was looking.
War noticed everything. But he never planned to act on it.
He was fine where he was.
Until one day, he wasn’t.
Because one random afternoon, completely out of nowhere, Yin caught him staring.
Not just glancing. Full-on caught.
War had been watching from the tennis court bleachers, fresh from practice, towel around his neck, half-heartedly listening to his coach. Yin had been nearby, chatting with someone, looking ridiculously good in a simple white uniform shirt and dark slacks.
War wasn’t thinking. He was just looking.
And then—
Yin turned.
Their eyes met.
War froze.
For the first time, he was the one caught off guard.
Yin tilted his head slightly, eyes narrowing like he was trying to place him. Then, to War’s absolute horror—
He smiled.
Not the polite, picture-perfect kind. A real one.
And War?
He looked away. Fast.
Acted like nothing happened.
Because if there was one thing War knew about himself, it was this:
He never made the first move.
And he wasn’t about to start now.
—
A few months later, their names were called together at the Excellence in Athletics awarding ceremony.
War, for his undefeated record in interschool tennis tournaments. Yin, for dominating the taekwondo competitions.
They stood side by side on stage, medals around their necks, certificates in hand, both smiling for the camera as flashes went off in front of them.
For a brief second, Yin turned his head slightly. War felt it—sensed the movement—so he glanced over.
Yin met his eyes.
A small nod. A quick smile.
War swallowed, then gave a tiny nod back.
And that was it. No words. No conversation. No sudden life-changing moment.
Just a shared glance between two boys standing shoulder to shoulder, worlds just barely brushing against each other.
Almost something.
But not quite.