Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Ling stepped through the grand entrance of Ratchaphurek International School (RIS), her posture straight, her expression unreadable. The chatter of students filled the spacious hallways, but she barely paid attention, her sharp eyes scanning her new surroundings with quiet curiosity.

She had arrived in Thailand just a week ago, a decision made entirely on her own. Unlike most students who transferred schools due to their parents’ work or other obligations, Ling had chosen to move. Thailand had always intrigued her—it was her mother’s birthplace, a country she had only visited a few times in her childhood. Now, she wanted to experience it on her own terms.

A soft breeze fluttered through the open corridors, carrying the scent of blooming jasmine from the school gardens. RIS was prestigious, known for its elite students, top-tier education, and an environment where social status often dictated the unspoken hierarchy. Ling, however, cared little for that.

She adjusted the strap of her black backpack, her every movement deliberate and unhurried. She wasn’t nervous. New environments never intimidated her. If anything, she welcomed the unfamiliar—it kept life interesting.

As she walked toward the administration office, whispers trailed in her wake. The new girl was already the center of attention. It wasn’t just because she was unfamiliar—it was because of her presence.

Ling carried herself differently.

She wasn’t just another pretty face. She was striking. With sharp, well-defined features, deep-set eyes that held an unreadable depth, and a confident posture that suggested she knew exactly who she was, Ling stood out without even trying. Unlike the typical uniform adjustments some students made—shortened skirts, loosened ties—her attire was impeccable.

And then there was her hair—jet black, slightly tousled, yet effortlessly stylish, adding to her handsomely beautiful appeal.

“She looks like a character straight out of a drama,” one girl whispered to her friend.

“She looks like she could be famous,” another murmured.

But Ling paid no attention. She had grown accustomed to stares, to quiet conversations that followed her when she entered a room. It didn’t affect her.

“Lingling Kwong?” A voice called out, breaking through the murmurs.

She turned to see a staff member waiting by the office door. With a small nod, she stepped forward. Her first day at RIS had begun. 

“Welcome to RIS.” The staff said, shuffled through some forms, she remarked, “Settling in alright? Bangkok is quite different from Hong Kong, I imagine.”

Ling offered a small, polite smile. “It is. But I am looking forward to exploring.” She didn't elaborate on the deeper reasons for her move, the quiet curiosity that had nudged her across borders. It was a personal journey, a silent exploration she wasn't yet ready to share.

With the necessary paperwork signed, Ling stepped out of the office and into the crowded hallway. Lockers slammed, laughter echoed, and the air buzzed with the nervous energy of teenagers. It was the familiar rhythm of high school, albeit with a different melody.

As she navigated the crowd, her gaze swept over the faces, trying to decipher the unspoken social codes. She wasn't looking to immediately fit in, but rather to understand the landscape. Her composure remained unbroken, a silent shield against the unfamiliarity. Ling knew she would find her place, in her own time, in her own way. The world was vast, and she had only just begun to explore its corners, starting with this new chapter in a land that held the echoes of her past.

Eventually, she found her assigned locker and stopped in front of it, adjusting the strap of her bag before opening it. She placed some of her belongings inside—her books, an extra notebook, and a sleek black pen—before exhaling softly.

Just as she shut the locker door, she nearly bumped into someone standing beside her.

Her gaze lifted, locking onto a pair of captivating amber eyes. They were warm yet intense, holding a confidence that seemed effortlessly natural. The girl standing before her had ash-gray hair, sleek and slightly tousled, framing her delicate yet sharp features. She was slender, her posture relaxed, and from the subtle smirk playing on her lips, she exuded an air of self-assurance.

Ling didn’t need anyone to tell her—this girl was someone important here. The type of person others naturally gravitated toward, someone who belonged at the very top of the school’s social hierarchy.

The girl parted her lips, seemingly about to say something, but before she could—

“Orm!” A voice called out from across the hallway.

The girl—Orm—glanced toward the sound, her smirk fading slightly as she turned her head. A group of students stood a few meters away, clearly waiting for her. With one last lingering look at Ling, she turned on her heel and strode toward them, her confidence apparent in every step.

Ling stood there for a moment, watching as Orm seamlessly rejoined her friends, laughing at something one of them said. Even from a distance, it was clear—Orm belonged in the center of attention, and she knew it.

Ling exhaled, the corners of her lips curling into a subtle smirk. The name lingered on her tongue as she watched Orm disappear into the crowd, effortlessly slipping into the center of attention like she belonged there.

“So, her name is Orm.” She tasted the name on her tongue, it suited her—bold, sharp, and impossible to ignore.

Ling tapped her fingers against the cool metal of her locker, her gaze still lingering on the spot where Orm had stood just moments ago. There was something about her. Something intriguing. Not just her striking looks, but the way she carried herself—so confident, so sure that the world revolved around her.

With a quiet chuckle, Ling shook her head and slung her bag over her shoulder. She had only been at RIS for less than an hour, and she was already getting the feeling that this girl, Orm, would be impossible to avoid.

Ling eventually found her classroom after a couple of wrong turns and a helpful pointer from one of the students. She stepped into her new classroom, scanning the room briefly before making her way inside. The moment she entered, a hush seemed to fall over the students. Curious eyes trailed after her, some whispering quietly to their seatmates, others outright staring. It wasn’t unexpected—new students always drew attention, but Ling had long since learned to ignore it.

Unbothered, she walked further in and stopped beside the nearest table. A student sitting there, a petite girl with glasses, blinked up at her in surprise.

“Hey,” Ling said, her voice steady and composed. “Do you know which table is available?”

The girl hesitated for a second, then pointed toward the back. “That one. No one sits there.”

Ling gave her a small nod of thanks before heading over. She set her bag down beside the chair and took a seat, leaning back with an easy confidence. The chatter around the room picked up again, but she paid no attention, her focus shifting to the large windows beside her, where sunlight streamed in, casting soft golden hues across the floor.

For a brief moment, she allowed herself to relax. New school, new city, new faces. This wasn’t anything she couldn’t handle.

Then, the bell rang, signaling the start of class. Ling straightened slightly, expecting the teacher to walk in at any moment. Instead, the door swung open, and she walked in. 

Orm.

She entered with the same effortless grace as before, her ash-gray hair catching the light as she tossed it back slightly. Behind her, a few of her friends followed—Ling recognized them from the group that had called her earlier.

The noise level in the class didn’t lower; if anything, it increased. Students greeted Orm with casual familiarity, some calling out to her, others merely watching as she walked in like she owned the place. And from the way she carried herself, Ling suspected she probably did.

Orm made her way toward her seat, which was in the third row—and to Ling's slight surprise, it was on her right side, only a couple of desks over.

And then, as if sensing it, Orm turned her head.

Their eyes met.

For a second, neither of them looked away.

Amber eyes locked onto Ling’s, filled with something unreadable yet undeniably intense. Ling held the gaze, unfazed, her own expression calm but observant. It wasn’t often that someone openly stared at her like this—not with that kind of energy.

Orm raised a single brow, her lips curling ever so slightly. A smirk.

Ling? She simply tilted her head, unreadable, before looking away first.

This new chapter was proving to be more interesting than she had initially anticipated.

Chapter Text

Orm Kornnaphat was the kind of person who didn’t need to try—attention came to her effortlessly.

She walked through the halls of RIS like she owned them, and in a way, she did. A casual flick of her ash-grey hair, a quick smile thrown to a passing acquaintance, a witty remark tossed to her ever-present group of friends—that was all it took. People greeted her the moment they saw her. Some admired her, some envied her, and some wished they could get just a fraction of her effortless confidence.

Orm thrived in it. She loved the rush, the way people naturally gravitated toward her. It had been this way for as long as she could remember—no one ignored Orm Kornnaphat.

Today was no different. She strolled down the hallway with her usual ease, her bag slung over one shoulder. Reaching her locker, she grabbed the book she needed for her morning class. Her mind was half on the upcoming club meeting and half on the latest gossip about the rumored transfer student. She was just shoving her notes inside when she heard the click of the locker next to hers closing.

Turning her head, she was met with a face she didn't recognize. A new student. That wasn't unusual; RIS often welcomed students mid-term due to parents' international postings. But this new girl… she stopped, a little surprised.

The first thing she noticed was the way she carried herself—composed, self-assured, like she belonged there even though Orm was certain she had never seen her before. Her features were sharp, striking rather than soft, with an effortless kind of beauty that felt almost... rare. And those eyes—calm, unreadable, yet steady in a way that made it impossible to look away.

Who… is this girl? Orm found herself staring before she even realized it. Orm wasn’t the type to be easily impressed. She had seen her fair share of good-looking people, but this… this was different. There was an air of mystery around the girl.

She didn’t know why, but she wanted to know who this girl was. She wanted to be the first to figure her out, to understand what kind of person walked into her school with that much confidence and didn’t even try to impress anyone.

For the first time in a long time, Orm was caught off guard.

Most people, especially new students, would react in some way when faced with her direct stare. They would either fumble over their words, smile too eagerly, or avoid her gaze entirely, intimidated by her presence. But this girl? She didn’t even blink.

Orm parted her lips, ready to speak, ask a question, maybe even tease just to see how she would react—but before she could,

“Orm!”

The sound of her name made her head snap to the side. A small, almost annoyed sigh escaped her lips. She spared the new girl another quick glance, a more direct one this time, trying to commit those captivating features to memory. There was something about her gaze, steady and calm, that held an unexpected pull. 

Orm walked away from her locker. Her friends were waiting for her just down the hall. She greeted her friends casually, and she turned back just in time to see the new girl walking off, steady, unbothered, as if their brief moment didn’t mean anything.

She had expected something—a reaction, a shift in expression, anything—but instead, the girl had walked away without sparing her another glance. That had never happened to her before.

Orm barely registered what her friends were saying as she followed them, her mind still lingering on that moment.

She didn’t even ask for my name.

A small smirk tugged at the corner of Orm’s lips. That was fine. She had time. She would make sure this new girl knew exactly who she was.

“Earth to Orm!” Kate waved a manicured hand in front of Orm’s face, her perfectly arched eyebrows raised in amusement. “You’ve been staring off into space. Lost in thought.”

Orm blinked, pulling her gaze away from the spot where the new girl had been standing. A faint blush touched her cheeks. “Uh, yes. Sorry. What did you say again?” She tried to sound nonchalant, casually pushing a strand of her hair behind her ear.

Kate narrowed her eyes suspiciously before exchanging a knowing glance with Prig. “I said, are we still skipping the first period? Or are you too busy spacing out?”

Prig smirked, nudging Orm’s arm. “Yeah, you totally zoned out. Not like you, Orm. What’s up?”

Orm scoffed, flipping her hair over her shoulder as if shaking off whatever had distracted her. “Nothing. I was just…thinking.”

Kate arched a brow. “Thinking? About what? You never think this hard about anything.”

“Excuse me, I think about a lot of things,” Orm shot back, crossing her arms.

Prig snorted. “Yeah, like what color nails to get next or whether the cafeteria lady likes you enough to give you extra fries.”

Orm gasped dramatically. “First of all, those are important decisions. Second, she totally does give me extra fries, and that’s called charm, darling.”

Kate and Prig laughed, clearly entertained. “Alright, alright, Queen Orm. So, are we skipping or not?”

Orm glanced at the time on her phone before shrugging. “Nah, I feel like actually showing up today. Might as well remind the teachers I still exist.”

Kate groaned. “Ugh, fine. But if it gets boring, we’re sneaking out."

Orm smirked. “When do we ever stay if it’s boring?”

With that, the three of them strolled toward their classroom, laughing and chatting as if nothing had interrupted Orm’s usual rhythm. But as much as she tried to brush it off, she couldn’t quite shake the image of the new girl from her mind.

As Orm strolled toward the classroom with her friends, she found herself subconsciously scanning the crowded hallways. She wasn’t even sure why. It wasn’t like she was looking for anyone. But the new girl was nowhere to be seen, and before she could think too much about it, they reached their classroom.

Kate and Prig slid into their usual seats, while Bam, another member of their circle, was already lounging in hers.

“Hey, Bam!”

Bam glanced up, a lazy smile spreading across her lips as she leaned back comfortably. “Hey, girls.”

And Orm followed, taking her spot in the third row. It was her favorite seat—not too far back that teachers thought she wasn’t paying attention, but just enough to avoid getting called on too often. She tossed her bag onto the desk and leaned back, casually stretching her arms.

That was when she saw her.

Orm’s gaze landed on the back corner of the room, where the new girl was seated. Her composed posture, the way she sat like she belonged there despite being new—it was impossible not to notice her. 

And then, their eyes met.

Orm felt a flicker of something—something sharp and unexpected. A brief hitch in her breath. Here, with the sunlight streaming in from the window beside her, the new girl’s features were even more striking. Strong jawline, sharp eyes that held a quiet confidence, like she wasn’t the type to get easily intimidated.

For the first time in a while, Orm felt… caught off guard.

She had expected curiosity, maybe even admiration, from the new girl. After all, people always noticed her. That was just how things worked. But this girl? She wasn’t looking at Orm with awe or nervousness like most students did. She wasn’t flustered. If anything, her gaze was steady, calm, unreadable, like she was assessing Orm just as much as Orm was assessing her.

Orm’s fingers twitched slightly against her desk.

Interesting.

She wasn’t sure how long they held eye contact, but it was long enough for Prig to nudge her.

“What are you looking at?” Prig asked, following Orm’s gaze.

Orm blinked, snapping herself out of it. "Nothing," she said quickly, looking away.

But even as the teacher finally walked in and the class settled down, Orm could still feel that lingering moment, like an unspoken challenge.

And for the first time in a long time, Orm wasn’t the one in control of it. 

This unexpected encounter in class felt like more than just a coincidence. The new girl, whoever she was, was definitely on her radar now. And Orm had a feeling that this was just the beginning of their story.

Chapter Text

Orm leaned back in her chair, her fingers lightly tapping against the edge of her desk. Lingling Kwong. The name rolled through her mind as she absentmindedly traced the letters in her thoughts. Now that she knew the name of the new girl from the attendance check, she found herself repeating it, testing how it felt, how it sounded in her head.

She hadn't meant to keep glancing at the new girl, but it was proving harder than she expected. The way Ling sat so effortlessly composed, as if she belonged here from the very start, bothered Orm in a way she couldn’t quite define. Most new students hesitated, fumbled, tried to blend in. Ling did none of those things.

Orm exhaled through her nose and refocused on the lesson, resting her chin in her palm. The teacher was going on about something, history? Literature? It didn’t really matter. Just as her attention was about to drift completely, the teacher posed a question.

The teacher glanced around the classroom, adjusting his glasses. “Art has always been a reflection of its time, influenced by culture, politics, and innovation. Can anyone name an artistic movement that significantly changed the way people viewed art and explain its impact?”

Silence filled the room. A few students exchanged uncertain glances, some flipping through their books, but no one spoke up. Even Orm, who usually had something clever to say, was too lazy to rack her brain to answer the question. Orm leaned back in her chair, twirling her pen between her fingers. 

Then, a voice, steady and confident, cut through the silence.

“The Impressionist movement.”

Orm turned her head before she could stop herself.

Ling had spoken, her tone calm and composed, as if the question had been meant for her, that she hadn’t even needed to think about it. The entire class seemed to shift slightly, attention pulling toward her.

“In the late 19th century, Impressionism revolutionized the way artists approached light, color, and movement,” Ling continued, her voice smooth and unwavering. “Unlike traditional academic art, which focused on historical or religious themes with precise detail, Impressionists captured fleeting moments. How light danced on water, how a city changed at dusk. Their brushstrokes were loose, their colors vibrant, and their subjects often ordinary people in everyday life.”

A pause, but only for a second.

“The movement was initially rejected by critics. It defied the rigid standards of the time. But artists like Monet, Renoir, and Degas pushed forward, proving that art wasn’t just about replicating reality. It was about perception, emotion, and change. Impressionism paved the way for modern art, challenging future generations to see the world differently.”

The teacher smiled, nodding in approval. “That’s an excellent answer, Ling. Impressionism was indeed groundbreaking in its departure from traditional techniques. Well explained.”

A murmur rippled through the classroom, and students exchanged glances, some clearly impressed. Orm caught Kate smirking beside her before nudging her arm. “Alright, I’ll admit it, that was kinda hot. I guess the new girl isn’t just a pretty face.”

Orm scoffed, arms crossing over her chest. Her mind was already racing. She hated to admit it, but even she was taken aback. Most students, if they even attempted an answer, would have kept it simple, maybe thrown out a name and a basic explanation. But Ling had spoken with certainty, depth, and an undeniable air of confidence. Ling didn’t just answer. She owned the moment. 

So, she’s smart too.

Orm clicked her tongue, tapping her fingers against the desk, shifting in her seat. Something about this new girl got under her skin.

Alright, Lingling Kwong. Let’s see what else you’ve got.

Later, as the bell rang, signaling the end of class, the usual chatter and shuffling of chairs filled the room. Orm stretched her arms above her head, glancing toward the door where Kate, Bam, and Prig were already waiting for her.

“You coming?” Kate asked, tilting her head.

Orm waved them off lazily. “I’ll catch up later.”

Kate squinted, exchanging a look with Prig before shrugging. “Alright, don’t get lost.”

Prig snickered. “Or distracted.”

Bam didn’t say much; she just chuckled and shook her head at their exchange. Orm rolled her eyes as they left, already immersed in their own conversation. Once the classroom had mostly emptied, she made her way toward the new girl’s desk, slipping into the chair in front of her with an easy, confident movement.

Ling was still seated, calmly tucking her books into her bag, as if she hadn’t noticed Orm’s presence, or maybe she was just ignoring her.

“So, you like art or something?” Orm leaned forward, resting her chin on her palm. “I’m Orm, by the way.”

Ling glanced up, expression unreadable. There was no startle, no hesitation, just a polite, composed gaze. “I’m Ling. And yes, I’m interested in art.”

Her voice was smooth, level.

“Interesting,” Orm smirked slightly. “Not bad, new girl. You might survive here after all.”

To her surprise, Ling leaned in slightly, mirroring her stance, her dark eyes steady. “Do I need to look for your approval?”

Orm blinked. Then scoffed, tilting her head. “Bold.”

Ling only shrugged. “Just asking.”

There was no arrogance in her tone, no attempt to sound intimidating. Just a simple, cool indifference that somehow got under Orm’s skin.

Orm tapped her fingers against the desk, studying Ling. She had met plenty of people who either sought her attention or recoiled from it. But this? This was different. Ling wasn’t trying to impress her, nor was she bothered by her presence. It was as if she was merely entertaining the conversation for the sake of it.

“Alright, then,” Orm said, deciding to test the waters. “What’s your deal?”

Ling arched a brow. “My deal?”

“Yeah.” Orm gestured vaguely. “You’re new. Most people in your position would try to make friends, blend in. But you don’t seem particularly interested in either.”

Ling considered that for a moment before offering a small, nonchalant smile. “I don’t see the need to force anything. If it happens, it happens.”

Orm narrowed her eyes slightly. There was something frustrating about how effortless Ling made it seem, how she remained unfazed, unaffected.

Most people react to me. That was something Orm had learned early on. People either liked her or envied her, but either way, they acknowledged her presence. Ling, on the other hand, was giving her nothing.

Orm leaned back, folding her arms. “Huh.”

Ling tilted her head. “Something wrong?”

“Not really.” Orm’s smirk returned, though this time it was more calculating. “Just thinking.”

Ling hummed in response, as if she wasn’t particularly interested in what Orm was thinking about. That only irritated Orm more. Ling was supposed to ask what she was thinking. 

Orm exhaled sharply, pushing herself up from the chair. “Well, enjoy your lunch, new girl.”

“Thanks.” Ling returned to her bag, as if the conversation had already left her mind.

Orm turned on her heel and made her way out of the classroom, her pace a little quicker than usual. She was used to people reacting to her, either with admiration, intimidation, or flustered excitement. But the new girl didn’t react at all. Ling remained composed, treating Orm like any other student, not giving her the special attention she’s used to. It made her want to provoke Ling, just to get some kind of reaction.

By the time she reached the canteen, Kate and Prig had already secured their usual table. Bam was there too, sipping on a juice box.

Kate raised a brow as Orm plopped down onto the chair across from her. “Took you long enough. Got caught up with something?”

Orm huffed, grabbing her drink. “More like someone.”

Prig leaned in, intrigued. “Oh? Spill.”

Orm tapped the rim of her cup, eyes flickering slightly. “Just a little curiosity.”

Prig and Kate exchanged looks. “That doesn’t sound like just curiosity,” Kate teased.

Orm didn’t answer immediately. She took a slow sip of her drink before leaning back. “Let’s just say…” she murmured, smirking to herself, “...this new girl might be more fun than I thought.”

Little did Orm know, Ling’s lack of reaction wasn’t due to indifference or disinterest. It was because she was still struggling with the Thai language. She was lucky enough that, during lessons, the teachers primarily spoke in English, given that it was an international school.

While she could understand most conversations, forming quick and confident responses was another matter entirely. She had learned to keep her words measured, calculated, choosing responses that required the least effort while still maintaining a sense of composure. 

It wasn’t that she didn’t have anything to say to Orm; she simply didn’t trust herself to say it smoothly. The last thing she wanted was to fumble her words in front of someone like Orm, who seemed to command attention without even trying. So instead of engaging fully, Ling kept her replies short and her expressions neutral, unintentionally giving off the impression of cool detachment.

And because Orm had no idea about this, she took it as a challenge.

After the last class of the day, Orm and her friends made their way toward the dance studio, their usual after-school routine every once a week. The club wasn’t overly strict, there were no mandatory practices unless a performance was coming up, so today was just a casual session, a chance to loosen up and have fun.

“Finally, time to move,” Kate stretched her arms above her head as they walked. “Sitting through that last class was painful .”

Prig chuckled. “You say that every day.”

Bam nudged Orm. “You sure you don’t need extra tutoring instead? You were zoning out a lot today.”

Orm rolled her eyes, shoving Bam back playfully. “I was not zoning out.”

The four of them entered the dance studio, where some club members were already warming up. The space was spacious, with mirrored walls reflecting their movements and speakers set up in the corners, ready to blast music.

Meanwhile, elsewhere in the school, Ling was wandering the halls. Having only arrived recently, she was still unfamiliar with the various after-school activities. She hadn’t joined any clubs yet, nor did she have a clear idea of where students typically spent their time once classes were over.

With no particular destination in mind, she moved down the hallway, pausing occasionally to glance inside open classrooms. Some students were still sitting around, finishing homework or chatting with friends. Others were gathering in groups, heading toward different club rooms.

Then, as she turned a corner, she heard the faint but distinct thump of bass-heavy music coming from one of the rooms ahead. Curious, she followed the sound until she reached a door that had been left slightly ajar.

Peeking inside, she found herself looking into a dance studio. Inside, students moved in fluid, rhythmic patterns, their bodies in sync with the beat. The atmosphere was alive, pulsing with energy and movement.

And at the center of it all was Orm. Ling lingered at the doorway, silently observing. She hadn’t planned on stopping, but something about the way Orm carried herself, effortless yet commanding, made it difficult to look away.

The rhythmic bass pulsed through the dance studio, filling the air with an infectious energy. Orm, Kate, Prig, and Bam moved with effortless synchronization, their bodies swaying and turning in perfect time with the music. Other members of the dance club were scattered around the mirrored walls, some practicing their steps, others stretching or chatting between sets.

Orm wasn’t the most disciplined dancer, but she had something that made people watch: confidence. She knew how to move, how to command attention, and most of all, how to make it look easy.

Just as she was adjusting the hem of her top, catching her breath after a quick routine, her gaze flickered toward the doorway. That was when she saw her . Leaning casually against the doorframe, arms crossed, stood Lingling Kwong. The new girl.

Orm’s brows lifted slightly. She hadn’t expected to see her here. Ling wasn’t saying anything, wasn’t even trying to get their attention. She simply stood there, watching. Those sharp, unreadable eyes quietly followed the movements in the room, but Orm had a feeling they were focused on her the most.

Orm clicked her tongue, a smirk tugging at her lips. Alright, new girl. You want to watch?

She turned back to her friends. “One more round?”

Kate groaned. “We just finished.”

“C’mon,” Orm nudged her shoulder. “One more. Let’s make it good.”

Kate, Prig, and Bam exchanged looks before shrugging. “Fine.”

The music started again, and this time, Orm let herself sink into the rhythm with even more purpose. She added a bit more flair to her movements, extra turns, sharper footwork, and longer extensions. She let her body flow, her confidence surging as she knew she was putting on a show.

And when she subtly glanced at the doorway, she saw it. A smile. Small. Barely there. But undeniably present on Ling’s lips.

Orm faltered for half a second, nearly missing a beat. Did she just—

It wasn’t a mocking smirk or a condescending grin. No, it was something else. Amusement? Approval? Whatever it was, it stirred something in Orm’s chest. And to her own surprise, she wanted to smile back.

But before she could, Ling straightened, gave one last glance at the room, and simply turned away. Just like that. Orm blinked, her movements slowing as she watched Ling’s retreating figure disappear down the hallway.

Orm scoffed, grabbing her water bottle and taking a sip. What the hell was that?

She should’ve been annoyed. Most people had a reaction to her, whether admiration, intimidation, or something in between. But Ling? She just watched, smiled , and walked away like it was nothing. For some reason, that got under Orm’s skin. She expected more. She always got more. But instead of frustration, all she felt was… intrigue. 

She rolled her shoulders, tilting her head slightly in thought.

Alright, new girl. You’ve got my attention.

And she had a feeling this was only the beginning.

Chapter Text

The days at school settled into a routine, yet something felt different to Orm. Ever since her first proper interaction with Ling, she found herself oddly aware of the new girl’s presence. It wasn’t intentional, at least, that’s what she told herself. But somehow, her gaze would flick toward Ling whenever she entered a room. Whether it was during class, in the crowded hallways, or even from across the canteen, Orm would notice her.

And that was annoying .

Ling, on the other hand, seemed completely unaffected. She went about her day with quiet composure, speaking only when necessary, responding to conversations with that same polite tone, and offering little more than a small, unreadable smile.

It was that cool, composed demeanor that got under Orm’s skin the most. Orm had met plenty of people in this school; some were loud, some were awkward, some tried too hard to fit in. But Ling? She was just… Ling . Nothing seemed to faze her.

And that? That made Orm want to poke the bear .

The idea came to Orm in passing. One of those fleeting thoughts she probably should have ignored, but, of course, didn’t.

It started when she spotted Ling at the canteen, buying a bottle of water. Simple. Ordinary. Boring. Something about Ling’s unbothered demeanor ever since she arrived made Orm itch to shake things up a little.

So, as Ling placed her bottle on the table and momentarily turned away to grab a napkin, Orm seized the opportunity. She swiftly swapped it with an identical one, except this one had been strategically prepared with an ungodly amount of salt.

Bam, who had witnessed the switch, raised an eyebrow. “Seriously?”

Orm smirked. “What? It’s just a little test. Let’s see if the new girl can handle a surprise.”

They casually walked away, positioning themselves at a nearby table where they had a perfect view of Ling. Orm leaned forward slightly, anticipation buzzing in her chest as she watched Ling return to her seat.

Ling picked up the bottle, unscrewed the cap, and took a sip.

Orm waited.

Any second now.

Ling’s lips pursed ever so slightly. She stared at the bottle for a moment, as if contemplating its entire existence, then calmly screwed the cap back on and placed it down.

That was it. No dramatic spit-take. No disgusted expression. Not even a word.

Orm blinked. “Wait. That’s her reaction?”

Bam snorted. “She barely reacted at all. That’s a fail.”

Orm frowned, crossing her arms. She wasn’t sure what she had expected. Maybe a cough, a confused look around the canteen, some sort of visible reaction. But Ling just carried on eating as if she hadn’t just been assaulted by a mouthful of seawater.

Somehow, that made it even worse. And now, it wasn’t just a prank. It was a challenge.

Orm smirked, determination lighting up her eyes. “Alright, then. Game on.”

“You’re not serious,” Bam commented, slightly worrying.

“Oh, I am.” Orm crossed her arms.

She didn’t know what it was about Ling that made her want to push buttons, but if Ling thought she could just waltz into this school, be all mysterious and unreadable, and not react to her antics…. well, Orm was going to make sure that changed.

And this was only the beginning.

The next couple of days, Orm’s pranks had escalated. She wasn’t even trying to be subtle anymore. By now, all of her friends had noticed that for some reason, she had taken a special interest in Ling. Though no one, not even Orm herself, could quite explain why.

It was between classes when she struck again. Orm casually approached Ling’s desk, leaning against it with an easy smirk.

“Hey, new girl,” she said smoothly. “You done with the history assignment yet?”

Ling looked up from her notes, expression neutral. “Not yet.”

Orm clicked her tongue and shook her head, feigning concern. “You should really get on that. Mr. Chai is super strict about this one. It has to be at least three pages long, handwritten, and he wants it focused only on 18th-century Thai history. He snapped at Kate last term for getting the era wrong.”

Ling frowned slightly, considering the information. She had been planning to write about a different era of Thai history, but if the teacher was that specific…

She tapped her pen lightly against her notebook, her brows furrowing just a little. Orm watched the tiny shift in her expression, amused at how seriously Ling was taking it. The new girl really did look like the type to follow instructions to the letter.

Perfect.

After a moment, Ling gave a small nod. “I see. Thanks for telling me,” she finally said.

Orm gave her a friendly pat on the desk, flashing an easy grin. “No problem. Just looking out for you since you’re new here.”

She turned on her heel, sauntering back to her seat without a second glance, but inside, she was thoroughly entertained. She didn’t expect it would be so easy to fool her. For now, she was quite pleased.

Wow, she actually bought it.

A quiet chuckle threatened to escape her lips, but she bit it back, keeping her expression neutral. She wasn’t sure what was more satisfying: the fact that Ling had believed her so easily or the anticipation of seeing her face when she realized the truth. Would she finally react? Get frustrated? Confront Orm about it? Orm hoped so. 

Because, really, what was the point of messing with someone if they didn’t fight back?

And so, the next day, the moment Ling stepped into class, she sensed something was off.

Students were passing their assignments forward: simple, double-spaced, and definitely not handwritten. Some papers barely reached one full page. Ling, meanwhile, was holding a painstakingly written three-page essay on only 18th-century Thai history.

Her eyes flicked toward the front of the classroom. The teacher was collecting assignments without so much as a glance at formatting.

Slowly, Ling turned her head. Orm sat at her desk, chin resting on her palm, fingers tapping lightly against her notebook. The picture of innocence, except for the glint of amusement in her eyes. She was waiting.

Ling studied her, tilting her head ever so slightly, but said nothing.

“Did you really make her write three pages?” Kate, who had been watching the silent exchange, leaned closer to Orm. “You’re ridiculous.”

Orm smirked. “She trusted me. That’s on her.”

Meanwhile, Ling turned back to her desk, placing her essay on top of the pile. She wasn’t particularly upset, just… puzzled. Why would Orm give her the wrong information?

She didn’t have to wait long to find out, because Orm wasn’t done yet.

Orm played by her own rules. No one in this school got to dictate to her. When people whispered that it was strange to have hair any color but black, Orm went ahead and dyed hers anyway. A few days ago, it had been ash-grey; now it was blonde. And instead of criticizing, people admired her. Admired the way she moved through the world without asking for permission. Admired how she always had her own way of doing things.

Which was exactly why the new girl got under her skin. Ling didn’t play by Orm’s rules. And that both irritated and intrigued her. Ling was a challenge. And if there was one thing Orm could never resist, it was a good challenge.

The next day, Orm was feeling particularly pleased with herself. The assignment trick had been fun, but this time, she wanted to see Ling’s reaction in real-time.

So, during lunch break, as students bustled around the canteen, chatting and eating, Orm casually leaned against the table where Ling was sitting. Ling, as usual, was minding her own business, quietly eating and scrolling through something on her phone.

“By the way,” Orm said, feigning nonchalance as she picked at a piece of fruit from her own tray. “Biology class got moved today. Something about maintenance in the lab. We’re in Room 3B instead.”

Ling glanced up, blinking. “Oh?”

Orm nodded, keeping her expression perfectly casual. “Yeah, it’s a sudden change.”

Ling considered this for a moment, then, just like yesterday, she nodded. “Thanks for letting me know.”

Too easy. Orm bit back a smirk, shoving a spoonful of rice into her mouth to keep herself from laughing outright. Kate, sitting beside her, raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

Later, before the bell rang, Ling made her way down the quiet hallway, scanning the doors for Room 3B . The school was large, and she hadn’t quite memorized all the classrooms yet, but after a bit of searching, she finally spotted the number.

Pushing the door open, she stepped inside…. only to find it completely empty. Her brow furrowed. She checked the time on her phone. Class should be starting soon… Where is everyone?

Ling walked further inside, glancing around, half-expecting students to trickle in any second now. But after a few minutes of sitting there in silence, realization began to settle in. She glanced back at the door, then at the still-empty classroom. Something about this felt familiar.

And then it hit her, the assignment.

Ling exhaled slowly, her mind working through the pieces. Yesterday, Orm had oh-so-helpfully fed her incorrect information, leading her to do the wrong homework. And today…

She closed her eyes briefly. Did she really fall for it again?

A small, amused huff left her lips as she turned on her heel and walked briskly, this time, back to the biology lab. A small wave of disappointment nagged at her. I should’ve double-checked with the others.  

It was such a simple mistake, and she’d walked right into it because she hadn’t thought twice. I trusted her. She hadn’t expected Orm to pull this on her. 

Meanwhile, Orm was already seated in the actual biology lab, tapping her pen against her notebook, waiting.

Five minutes passed.

Then ten.

The door finally opened, and Ling walked in, calm as ever, but just the slightest bit breathless, as if she had brisk-walked across the entire school.

“Sorry I'm late,” Ling apologized to the teacher, and the teacher simply nodded, understanding that Ling was still new and letting it slide.

Orm watched with barely concealed amusement as Ling took her seat. There was no big reaction, no huff of frustration, no accusing glare. Nothing.

Just a pause.

And then Ling’s eyes flickered across the room, until they landed on Orm. And Orm, grinning, sat back in her chair, arms crossed, tilting her head ever so slightly. 

That was when it clicked.

Ling let out a slow exhale, not annoyed, but thoughtful. Oh.

Her gaze stayed on Orm, sharp but unreadable. And then, just as Orm had been hoping for, Ling gave the tiniest change of expression. Intrigued.

And then, just to seal the moment, Orm lifted a hand and winked.

Ling blinked. That was it. That was the moment she knew.

She’d officially become Orm’s target.

After class, as the students filtered out of the room, their chatter blending into the hallway buzz, Bam suddenly reached out and grabbed Orm by the wrist. Without giving her a chance to protest, she pulled her toward the windows at the far side of the classroom, away from the lingering students.

The afternoon light streamed in through the glass, casting a soft glow on Bam’s face, highlighting the slight furrow in her brow. She didn’t look amused. If anything, her usual easygoing demeanor had been replaced by something more serious, concern mixed with quiet frustration. She let go of Orm’s wrist but didn’t step back, standing her ground as if blocking any escape.

“Orm, seriously, what’s with you?” Bam asked, arms crossed, her expression a mix of concern and irritation.

Orm blinked, tilting her head with faux innocence. “What?”

Bam let out a sharp breath. “You’ve been messing with that new girl since she got here.”

A slow smirk spread across Orm’s lips. “It’s just harmless little pranks,” she said, leaning casually against the windowsill. “It’s my way of welcoming her.”

Bam didn’t look amused. If anything, her frown deepened. “Orm.”

Orm rolled her eyes. “Relax, she’ll be fine,” she said dismissively, waving a hand as if to brush off the conversation.

Bam didn’t budge. She studied Orm for a long moment, her sharp eyes scanning her face as if trying to decode what was really going on in her head. Orm could feel the weight of that gaze, but she refused to waver, keeping her usual smirk intact.

“Just don’t overdo it,” Bam finally said, her voice quieter this time but firm, carrying a note of warning beneath the casual words. There was no teasing in her tone, no playful banter. Just a simple, clear message. She wasn’t asking. She was telling.

For a brief second, Orm considered brushing it off with another joke, another smirk, but something in Bam’s expression made her hesitate. It wasn’t just about pranks anymore. Bam was watching her too closely, as if she saw something Orm hadn’t yet acknowledged herself.

Meanwhile, a few feet away, Kate and Prig, who had been waiting for Orm, exchanged glances. Their expressions were a mix of confusion and amusement.

Kate leaned toward Prig, whispering, “Since when does Orm care enough about someone to pull pranks on them?”

Prig shrugged, glancing at Orm, who still had that smug, unreadable look on her face. “That’s what I’m wondering.”

They both watched as Orm pushed off the windowsill, stretching her arms lazily as if nothing had happened. But Bam still looked skeptical, and for a brief second, Orm hesitated, just barely, before flashing a grin and walking off like she hadn’t just been called out.

Something about this whole situation felt different, but none of them could quite put their finger on why.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the school, Ling made her way toward the restroom. The hallway was mostly quiet, the distant echo of chatter humming from nearby classrooms. But just before she reached the corner, three students, rough around the edges, the kind who always lingered on the edge of trouble, stepped out and blocked her path.

“Where do you think you’re going, new girl?” one of them sneered, arms crossed.

Ling raised a brow, unimpressed. “To the restroom. Unless that’s a problem.”

“It is now,” another said, and shoved her shoulder.

Ling staggered back a step but didn’t lose her footing. Her jaw tightened. She could fight back, she wasn’t helpless. In fact, she knew more than enough to drop all three of them if she wanted to. But she exhaled slowly and held herself back. It wasn’t worth it. Not here. Not yet.

She turned on her heel, deciding to walk away. But a hand yanked her wrist.

“We’re not done talking,” one growled, shoving her roughly against the wall.

Ling’s eyes flashed. Not with fear, but sharp irritation, like a storm cloud barely held at bay. Her patience, already fraying from the long day, was wearing thin. Every muscle in her arm tensed, ready to shove them off without hesitation. She didn’t need a scene. But she wasn’t about to let herself be manhandled either. 

Her fingers twitched, one second more, and she would’ve snapped. But then a voice cut through the hallway like a blade dipped in ice.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

All heads turned.

Orm stood a few feet away, arms crossed loosely over her chest, one brow arched with that signature mix of amusement and warning. There was no need to raise her voice; the sharp stillness in her gaze did all the talking. It was the kind of calm that made people nervous, like standing too close to a sleeping lion.

The delinquents froze in place, their bravado evaporating in an instant. One of them visibly paled, shifting awkwardly under Orm’s stare.

“Orm,” one of them stammered. “We thought you were messing with her, so we figured we’d help teach her a lesson.”

Orm’s eyes darkened. “You thought what ?”

“We… we thought she was on your list or something…”

Orm took a slow step forward. “You don’t get to touch her. Ever.”

“But—”

“I said,” Orm’s voice turned low, dangerous, “I’m the only one who gets to do anything to her.”

The tone wasn’t playful. It was ice. Pure, venom-laced warning. The three backed off immediately, nodding, stumbling over their apologies before scrambling down the hall like kicked dogs. 

No one dared to mess with Orm. Her family held serious influence, and within the walls of this school, she wasn’t just popular, she ruled it. Unofficially, undeniably, Orm sat at the top of the school hierarchy.

Ling straightened slowly, brushing her uniform smooth. She looked at Orm, not scared, not thankful, just... unreadable.

Orm met her gaze. “I’m the only one who can touch you, got it?”

“You don’t get to decide that,” Ling replied coolly. “I’m not your toy, Orm.”

There was no bite in her voice, just steady defiance. But then she added, softer, “Still... thanks for stepping in.”

She turned and walked away like it was nothing. Like none of it rattled her.

Orm watched her go, brows drawn together in a mix of irritation and intrigue. Part of her was annoyed, most people stumbled over themselves to thank her or at least flinch under her glare. But Ling? She walked away like nothing happened, calm, composed, unbothered. A smirk tugged at the corner of Orm’s lips despite herself.

“What kind of a person are you, Lingling Kwong?”

Chapter Text

Orm arrived at school that morning in her usual unhurried fashion, bag slung over one shoulder, her expression relaxed. She had no particular plans for the day yet, Kate and Prig were nowhere to be seen either; they were usually the ones with a plan for the day. As for Bam, she was probably already in class.

And so, she walked straight into class and immediately spotted something that made her steps slow.

Bam was already there, which wasn’t surprising. What was surprising was where she was. Not at her own desk. Not scrolling on her phone. She was standing next to Lingling Kwong’s desk, chatting with her. And… was that a giggle?

Orm frowned. Wait. What?

She barely even registered putting her bag down, her eyes fixed on the sight of Bam leaning just a little too close, her voice light and playful. Ling, still as composed as ever, gave a small smile in return and nodded at something Bam had said. A smile, what the hell?

That didn’t sit well with Orm. She didn’t know why , but it just didn’t . Bam? Giggling? Ling? Smiling ? What did Bam even say to make that happen? How did she manage that? Ling was supposed to be unreadable and unshakable, so why did it look so easy for Bam to get a reaction from her?

Before she even thought about it, Orm cleared her throat, louder than necessary. Both Ling and Bam turned at the sound. 

Bam, as casual as ever, greeted her with a bright, “Oh, hi, Orm.”

Orm barely spared her a glance before locking eyes with Ling. Ling, for her part, just looked at her with that same calm, unreadable expression.

Raising a brow, Orm finally responded, “Hi, Bam.”

Bam smiled, but she had known Orm long enough to pick up on the slight edge in her tone. Ling, meanwhile, simply returned her attention to Bam, unfazed. Bam lingered for a moment before murmuring. “Catch you later.”

Bam finally returned to her seat, and Orm wasted no time, leaning over slightly and asking under her breath, “Since when are you friends with the new girl?”

Bam, busy settling into her seat, barely glanced at her. “Since today.”

Orm stared at her. Since today? That’s it?

Something about that answer rubbed her the wrong way. She wasn’t sure what she had expected, but it definitely wasn’t that . She cast another glance at Ling. The new girl was already back to her book, looking perfectly unbothered. Like she hadn’t just been in the middle of a giggly little conversation with Bam , of all people.

Orm clenched her jaw slightly. She didn’t know why it annoyed her. It shouldn’t. It was just Bam being friendly. It was just Ling being polite. So why did it feel like she had just walked in on something she wasn’t invited to? And why did that bother her? She clicked her tongue, shaking off the thought. Whatever. It doesn’t matter.

If Lingling Kwong thought she could just waltz in and charm her way through the class, then Orm was just going to have to remind her—

That she was the one in charge here.

And not Bam.

A slow smirk crept onto Orm’s lips as she leaned back in her chair.

During lunch break, Ling opted for the quiet solitude of the library instead of the bustling cafeteria. She moved through the hallway with an unhurried pace, her mind already set on the book she wanted to read.

Across the hall, Orm caught sight of her. She had been chatting with a few members of her dance club when her gaze landed on Ling’s retreating figure. Curious, and for reasons she didn’t care to examine too closely, she found herself excusing herself and following.

The library was quiet, a welcome escape from the noise of the cafeteria. Ling sat near the window, the soft afternoon light spilling over the pages of her book. She flipped through it at a steady pace, absorbed in the words, until—

A shadow loomed over the table. Without warning, a hand reached out and plucked the book right from her grasp. Ling blinked, looking up to find Orm casually flipping through the pages, her lips curling into a smirk.

“Serious type, huh? What is this? Chemistry?” Orm mused, turning the book sideways as if the knowledge inside might spill out and make more sense to her.

Ling exhaled through her nose, unimpressed. She reached out and took the book back effortlessly, her fingers brushing against Orm’s in the process. “Some of us like a moment of peace.”

Orm didn’t seem deterred. If anything, her smirk deepened. She leaned forward slightly, elbows resting on the table, eyes glinting with mischief.

“And some of us…” she said, lowering her voice as if sharing a secret, “...like to see how well others handle surprises.”

Ling didn’t even blink. Her gaze stayed locked on Orm’s, calm and unreadable, the corners of her mouth barely lifting. With a voice smooth and effortless, she replied. “That explains a lot.”

Orm arched a brow, intrigued, and leaned in just a little closer, her voice dipping into something teasing. “Oh?” she murmured, lips curving. “And what exactly does it explain?”

Ling calmly turned a page in her book before glancing up at Orm, her expression unreadable. Then, with the slightest tilt of her head, she said. “That you're the type who thrives on attention, whether you admit it or not.”

Orm blinked, caught off guard for just a second before smirking. “Oh? And here I thought I was just being friendly.”

Ling raised an eyebrow. “Are you?”

Orm leaned forward slightly, resting an elbow on the table. “I am.”

Ling didn’t even hesitate. “By giving me false information twice?”

Orm froze for half a second before letting out a low chuckle. “Ah. So you did catch on.”

“If you’re looking for fun by fooling anybody…” Ling held her gaze, leaning in a little closer. “...I’m not your person.”

Orm faltered, just for a second. A flicker of surprise crossed her face before she let out a short laugh. Damn. She was expecting a stammer, a look of frustration, anything but this level of composure. But she was Orm Kornnaphat, and she wasn’t going to back down so easily.

Recovering quickly, she glanced at the book and leaned in even closer, her voice teasing. “Shall we test our chemistry, then?”

Ling tilted her head slightly, as if weighing the words, her eyes unreadable but sharp. Then, with an almost imperceptible smirk, she tapped a slender finger against the cover of her book. “This is physics, actually.”

Orm blinked, obviously thrown. She grabbed the book from Ling’s hands, flipping it over with dramatic flair. Sure enough, Advanced Physics: Concepts and Applications .

A beat of silence passed between them. Then, Orm clicked her tongue and leaned back, shaking her head. “That’s just unnecessary deception, Ling.”

“Says the person who sent me to an empty classroom yesterday,” Ling countered smoothly, leaning back against her chair like she had all the time in the world.

Orm grinned despite herself. Okay. This one? This one was going to be fun . She rested her chin on her hand, eyes fixed on Ling as the girl casually flipped through pages like she hadn’t just been flirted with across a library table.

“You won’t let that go, huh?” Orm mused, fingers drumming thoughtfully against the table. “Thought you wouldn’t catch on since you’re always so busy with yourself.”

Ling didn’t respond immediately. Instead, she turned another page with maddening calm, her attention seemingly absorbed. But then, without looking up, she replied, voice low and precise. “Took me a moment. I didn’t expect someone so desperate for my attention.”

That made Orm straighten slightly. “Desperate?” she scoffed, the word tasting unfamiliar on her tongue, even if her grin stayed firmly in place.

Ling finally met her gaze. And this time, she held it. Steady. Confident. “You tell me.” 

Orm opened her mouth to retort, but for once, no immediate comeback came to mind. For the first time, her mind blanked. She narrowed her eyes slightly, pulse skipping. There was a flicker of something beneath the surface; amusement, yes, but also something… sharper. Realer.

This was new. This was very new.

Unsettling in the best possible way.

She hated to admit it, but Ling had a point.

And that? That only made her more intrigued.

Later, after school.

Orm was making her way toward the parking lot when she heard the familiar sounds of a soccer practice. The sharp blow of a whistle, the distant shouts of players, the rhythmic thud of a ball being passed around. Normally, she wouldn’t have given it a second thought. Sports weren’t really her thing, and whatever practice was happening didn’t concern her in the slightest.

And yet, for some reason, she found herself taking a detour. Instead of heading straight to her car, she casually walked along the path that ran past the soccer field. She wasn’t sure why, maybe just curiosity, maybe nothing at all. But then her eyes landed on someone in particular, and that’s when she paused mid-step.

“Wait, what? Ling plays soccer?” She murmured to herself and scoffed. “Wow, didn’t expect she’d be the athletic type.”

Orm didn’t move for a moment, watching as Ling weaved between players with effortless precision, her sharp eyes locked on the game, her movements smooth and composed. It was annoyingly impressive. Without even realizing it, Orm wandered over to the bleachers and sat down.

Just watching for a second, she told herself. Pure curiosity.

But the longer she stayed, the more she found herself drawn in. Not to the game. No, the game itself was background noise, not to the entire team either. But to this particular new player. The way Ling moved, the way she played. Focused. Unbothered. Just like she always was.

Orm's lips pressed into a thin line when one of the players bumped into Ling a little too hard, sending her stumbling slightly. But instead of getting annoyed or retaliating, Ling just brushed it off and continued playing like it was nothing.

Orm clicked her tongue, shifting in her seat. Why is she so unbothered all the time?

And then, as if her brain was actively trying to annoy her further, another thought popped up. Great. Now she’s not just smart and composed. She’s also good at sports? What’s next? Does she play the piano too? Speak five languages? Rescue stray puppies in her free time?

She was so caught up in her thoughts that she didn’t notice someone approaching from behind until—

“Wow,” Prig’s voice suddenly whispered near her ear, making Orm nearly jump. “Since when is Orm Kornnaphat interested in soccer?”

Orm stiffened, whipping her head around to shoot her a glare. “I’m not interested.”

Prig, entirely unfazed, slid onto the bleachers beside her and squinted at the field. A second later, she let out a knowing hum. “Ohhh… is it because of the new girl ? You’ve been very invested in her lately.”

Orm rolled her eyes, crossing her arms. “It’s just fun pulling pranks on her.”

Prig turned to face her fully, one eyebrow raised. “Mmm-hmm. Sure.”

Orm huffed, standing up abruptly. “Let’s go home. Maybe stop by and get our nails done.”

Prig, being Prig, easily distracted and always up for a good spa session, immediately grinned. “Oh, hell yes! Let’s do that.”

As Orm dragged Prig away, she didn’t notice the way Ling, still on the field, glanced in her direction. Ling had definitely spotted her sitting in the bleachers earlier, watching. She just didn’t want to look, because she knew she’d get distracted.

There was something about Orm Kornnaphat that Ling could never quite ignore. No matter the setting, no matter how crowded the room, her presence stood out, effortless, magnetic. Ling always noticed her. Of course she did.

Everyone noticed Orm.

The difference was, Ling made a conscious effort not to show it. She kept her gaze steady, her expression unreadable, even when her attention betrayed her. Even when her thoughts lingered longer than they should have.

It wasn’t denial. It was discipline.

Or at least, that’s what she told herself.

Because admitting otherwise would mean acknowledging just how much Orm had already gotten under her skin.

And now, watching Orm leave, Ling smiled to herself, subtly pleased by Orm’s presence on the bleachers. For some reason, knowing she was watching made her want to play just a little better, even if it was just a casual practice.

Interesting.

Chapter Text

The pile of assignments over the past few days had been enough to keep Orm occupied, so much so that she’d temporarily forgotten about her little pranks on Ling. The hum of casual conversation filled the music room as the teacher wrapped up the lesson. Just as students began packing up, a soft but confident strum of a guitar cut through the noise.

Orm, who had been lazily tapping her fingers on her desk, looked up. Ling sat on the chair, a guitar resting easily in her lap, her fingers moving with practiced ease over the strings. The melody was smooth, effortless.

The entire class seemed to take a collective breath, mesmerized. Even Kate and Prig exchanged impressed glances. “Damn,” Kate whispered. “Didn’t know she could do that.”

Orm frowned. “She’s smart academically, she’s athletic, and now… she’s good at music?” she muttered under her breath. “Damn indeed.”

Orm’s frown deepened as she crossed her arms, shifting her weight to one side. What was that supposed to mean? Was Ling messing with her on purpose? The way her fingers effortlessly danced over the guitar strings, paired with that stupidly confident smirk, made something stir in Orm’s chest, something she refused to acknowledge.

Ling, still holding her gaze, plucked a few more playful notes, tilting her head slightly with unreadable expression as if daring Orm to say something. The students around her remained oblivious, too busy gushing over her talent, but Orm felt like that smirk was directed only at her.

As the bell rang, students slowly got up, but instead of filing out, a small group gathered around Ling, tossing her compliments and asking her to play another song. Orm lingered near the door, arms crossed, watching the scene unfold with growing irritation.

“Ugh, more people taking an interest in her,” Orm grumbled.

Prig snickered. “You sound annoyed.”

“I am,” Orm huffed. “Can’t go anywhere without hearing about how cool she is.”

Kate raised an eyebrow. “Is that what’s bothering you? Or is it the fact that she’s not paying you any attention?”

Orm scoffed, looking away. “As if I care.”

Kate and Prig gave her a knowing look but said nothing. They started heading toward the cafeteria, but even as they walked away, Orm couldn’t shake her frustration. It made no sense why it bothered her so much.

And yet. As she and her friends made their way toward the canteen, they turned a corner and ran into Ms. Eclair, their teacher. The sight of their teacher abruptly interrupted Orm’s train of thought.

“Ah, perfect timing!” Ms. Eclair smiled as she spotted them. “Bam, wait a second.”

Bam, who had been walking ahead, turned around and smiled politely. “Yes, Ms. Eclair? Is there anything I can help with?”

Orm, not particularly interested in the conversation between Bam and Ms. Eclair, was already taking half a step to continue walking, but then—

“There is, actually.” The teacher clasped her hands together. “It’s about Ling.” 

Her foot halted. Her head shot up. Instantly, she was tuned in.

Ms. Eclair continued, “She’s still struggling with Thai. I was wondering if you could help tutor her?”

Bam opened her mouth, about to answer, but before she could, Orm blurted out, “I can do that.”

The words left her mouth faster than her brain could process, and the effect was immediate. A beat of silence fell over the group. Kate snapped her head so quickly she felt like she could break her neck, Prig froze mid-step, and Bam's brows shot up in disbelief. 

All three of them turned to Orm in unison, their expressions a mix of shock and suspicion. Even Ms. Eclair blinked, momentarily thrown off before regaining her composure. Then, with a pleased smile, she gave Orm an approving nod.

“Oh? You want to volunteer, Orm?”

Orm, as if this wasn’t a sudden, instinctive decision she hadn’t even thought through, nodded smoothly. “I do.”

Ms. Eclair beamed. “Wonderful! Maybe you can start today after school?”

“That won’t be a problem,” Orm said casually, though she could feel the burning stares of her friends drilling into her skull.

“Perfect! I’ll let Ling know.” With that, the teacher smiled and walked off, leaving Orm standing there like nothing had just happened.

For exactly three seconds, no one spoke. Then—

“What the hell was that?” Kate blurted out.

Orm turned to her friends, playing it cool. “What?”

Prig squinted at her. “You volunteered to tutor Ling?”

Bam folded her arms, her gaze sharp with curiosity. “Since when do you care about Ling’s Thai?”

Orm crossed her arms. “You make it sound like a big deal.”

“It is a big deal!” Prig threw her hands up. “You hate tutoring! You complain about our homework, let alone teaching someone else!”

Kate narrowed her eyes. “You hate Ling.”

Orm scoffed. “I don’t hate her. I just find her annoying.”

“Annoying enough that you want to spend extra time with her after school?” Prig raised her brow, arms crossed in amusement. “Why are you so obsessed with her?”

The accusation hit harder than Orm expected. She opened her mouth to fire back a quick retort, but then promptly closed it. Damn. That did sound bad.

Her brain scrambled for a defense, but the more she thought about it, the worse it sounded. Why did she volunteer so fast? She could feel Kate’s and Bam’s eyes burning into her, waiting for an answer, their curiosity practically suffocating her.

“I’m not obsessed with her,” Orm scoffed, forcing a casual shrug as she waved a dismissive hand. “I just figured it’d be more fun if I did it instead.”

The moment the words left her mouth, she realized how ridiculous that sounded. She didn’t even like tutoring.

Kate’s brows furrowed. “Fun?”

Orm ignored her. “Besides, I like a challenge. And it will be easy for me to pull more pranks on her.”

“This is so weird.” Kate shook her head. “Is there something going on between you two?”

Orm rolled her eyes. “Whatever. This conversation is stupid.” She turned on her heel. “I’m getting lunch.”

As Orm spun on her heel and stomped off toward the canteen, her strides were a little too forceful, like she was trying to shake off the conversation along with the lingering questions rattling in her head. 

Her friends, however, were far from convinced. Kate and Prig exchanged glances, their smirks growing in sync. Bam, trailing slightly behind, let out a low chuckle.

Prig leaned toward Bam. “This is going to be fun to watch.”

But even as she walked, Orm could feel the smug grins on their faces. And maybe, just maybe, she could also feel her own pulse quicken slightly.

What the hell was that?

Meanwhile, from across the hallway, Ling was just exiting the music room. The soft hum of conversation and lingering melodies from the previous class drifted behind her, but she paid little mind to it. She was oblivious to the conversation that had just taken place. 

But if she had known, if she had heard the way Orm practically volunteered herself, the way her friends teased and pried, she probably would have smirked, maybe even strummed another teasing note just for Orm.

Because one thing was certain, Orm was in way too deep already. And the best part? She hadn’t even realized it yet.

The afternoon sun had begun its slow descent, casting a golden hue over the school grounds. The once-bustling hallways were now quieter, with only a few lingering students chatting by their lockers or finishing up club activities.

The library was quiet, save for the faint rustling of pages and the occasional muffled footsteps. Ling was already seated at one of the tables near the window, her notebook open, a pen resting between her fingers. She didn’t look particularly eager. If anything, she seemed like she was prepared for some sort of trickery.

A few moments later, Orm strolled in, her bag slung over one shoulder. She spotted Ling immediately and made her way over, sliding into the chair across from her.

Before Orm could even say a word, Ling leaned back slightly, arms crossed. “How would I know you're not going to trick me by purposely mistranslating some phrases or words?” Her tone was dry, but her eyes gleamed with suspicion.

Orm scoffed, flipping open her own notebook. “Please. If I wanted to mess with you, I’d come up with something more creative than bad translations.”

“Oh? Like what?” Ling challenged, tilting her head slightly.

Orm smirked, tapping her pen against the table. “I don’t know. Maybe convince you that ‘hello’ actually means ‘I haven’t showered for a week’ and let you embarrass yourself in front of the whole class.”

Ling gave her an unimpressed look. “That’s exactly why I don’t trust you.”

Orm laughed but then shrugged, leaning forward with her elbows on the table. “Relax, Kwong. I take my job seriously, you know. If I was going to be your tutor, I’d at least do a good job at it.”

Ling eyed her for a moment before finally sighing, seeming to let her guard down a little. “Fine. Let’s get this over with, then.”

The session went smoother than Ling had expected. Orm, despite her usual playful demeanor, was surprisingly good at explaining things. She broke down difficult phrases, giving Ling simple examples. But then came pronunciation practice.

“Alright,” Orm said, pointing to a sentence in Ling’s notebook. “Try saying this: จับปลาสองมือ” 

Ling furrowed her brows. “Jàplaa… sǒrng… muue?” The words came out awkward and stilted, her foreign accent distorting the syllables slightly. “What does this even mean?”

Orm chuckled, leaning in closer. “Catching fish with two hands. Which means to try to do two things at once, and often results in failing at both.”

Ling furrowed her brow slightly, nodding her head. “Okay.”

“Now try again.” Orm encouraged gently.

Ling took a deep breath. “Jàp plasǒrng muue.”

Orm bit the inside of her cheek, fighting back a grin. Who would’ve thought? Lingling Kwong, athletic, academically sharp, and irritatingly good at everything, actually had a weak spot. And surprisingly, she found it adorable .

“Almost there,” Orm said, schooling her features into something neutral. “Follow me, it should be jàp plaa sǒrng muue . Now you.”

Ling exhaled sharply, concentrating. “Jàp… plaa… sǒrng… muue—ugh.” She groaned, rubbing her temple. “This is harder than I thought.” 

Orm chuckled. “You’re getting closer. Try again, but relax your tongue a little.”

Ling shot her a look. “Easy for you to say. Thai is your first language.”

“True. But I’m helping you, aren’t I?” Orm teased, resting her chin on her palm. “Come on, one more time.”

Ling sighed, then tried again. This time, it was still a little off, but much better than before. Deep down, Orm secretly admired Ling’s determination and focus. She knew that if she hadn’t been born Thai, she would have struggled even more than Ling.

“There you go,” Orm said, nodding in approval. “Not bad, Kwong.”

Ling smirked slightly. “Told you I’d get it.”

Orm rolled her eyes but couldn’t ignore the tiny flicker of amusement bubbling inside her. So, there is actually something she isn’t good at. The realization settled strangely in her chest, not unpleasant, just… unexpected. It made Ling feel a little more human , less infuriatingly perfect. And well, it was a little cute.

She shoved that thought aside before it could take root.

They continued going over more words and phrases, Ling’s occasional mispronunciations drawing an exasperated sigh from Orm, though her patience never truly wavered. Somewhere along the way, the sharp edges of their usual banter softened. 

And by the time they wrapped up, the air between them had shifted, the tension had eased, the conversation slipping into something easier, more casual, something… almost comfortable. Something they had never done before.

Orm absentmindedly twirled her pen between her fingers before glancing at Ling. “So… why did you come to Thailand? Isn’t Hong Kong fun?”

Ling hesitated for a second, as if debating whether to answer. Something flickered in her expression, but she masked it quickly. “It is. I just needed a change of pace. A new challenge.”

Orm narrowed her eyes slightly. The answer felt… safe. Like, there was more to it. “Not a very convincing answer,” she remarked.

Ling only offered a small, knowing smirk. “Maybe I'll have a better answer later.”

Orm arched a brow. “You better. I expect a full review next time.”

Ling chuckled. “Sure. But only if you don’t try to mess with my translations.”

Orm rolled her eyes but found herself smiling anyway. “No promises.”

They fell into a comfortable silence. Orm focused on highlighting key phrases in Ling’s book, her brows knitting together in concentration. 

Meanwhile, Ling found herself more interested in studying her rather than the notes. She noticed the way Orm’s lips pressed together thoughtfully, how she occasionally bit her bottom lip when deep in focus, and the soft flutter of her lashes every time she blinked. Ling wasn’t sure why, but she found it… cute.

“Stop staring.” Orm blurted out, eyes still on the book. “I know I’m cute.”

Ling blinked, slightly embarrassed for getting caught staring. She quickly recollected herself and scoffed. “Funny.”

Orm bit the inside of her cheek, fighting back a smile. Ling hadn’t even denied it, and that, in itself, was confirmation that Lingling Kwong did think Orm Kornnaphat was cute. The thought sent an unexpected flutter through her chest, stirring feelings she wasn’t ready to acknowledge. But, of course, she wouldn’t let it show. Hence, the struggle to keep her lips from curling into a grin.

Orm cleared her throat, leaning her chin on her palm. “So… do you like it here?”

Ling thought for a moment before a small smile tugged at her lips. “It’s different. But not bad.”

“Not bad, huh? Bet the word ‘not’ is there because of me. Otherwise, it would be super bad.” Orm smirked, leaning back in her chair.

Ling shot her a look of disbelief. “The word ‘bad’ is there because of you.”

Orm rolled her eyes. “Oh, c’mon!”

Ling chuckled, shaking her head. “I still don’t trust you.”

“Fine.” Orm huffed, crossing her arms.

But despite her playful grumbling, she found herself enjoying this, watching Ling loosen up, seeing the cracks in her usual calm and composed exterior. The way she chuckled, the way she playfully argued back, it was a side of Ling that Orm hadn’t seen before. And if she was being honest, she didn’t want to leave just yet.

Maybe, just maybe, she wanted to stay in this library a little longer.

Chapter Text

The sun filtered softly through the classroom windows, casting warm slants of light across the tiled hallway as students trickled in for the day. Orm strolled through the gates with a bounce in her step, unusually early and oddly chipper for someone who usually complained about waking up before noon.

Her bag hung lazily off one shoulder, her headphones looped around her neck, and she was humming… humming , of all things, as she made her way across the courtyard.

Prig narrowed her eyes the second she caught up to her. “Okay, spill it,” she said, side-eyeing her friend like a detective sniffing out a clue. “Something good definitely happened. Was it yesterday?”

Orm glanced over, feigning confusion. “What? Can’t I just have a good day?”

Prig scoffed. “Not when it’s you . You complain about school days like they personally insulted you.”

Before Orm could fire back, Kate strolled up beside them, raising a perfectly shaped brow. “She’s right. You’re suspiciously... shiny this morning.”

Orm snorted. “Shiny?”

“Yes,” Kate said flatly. “Like a cat who just knocked something off a shelf and got away with it.”

Prig gasped dramatically. “Wait. Did you finally win the lottery?”

Orm rolled her eyes, but a crooked smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. “Yeah, sure. I’m retiring next week. Gonna buy a villa in Italy.”

Kate leaned in a little closer. “Or… is this about someone?”

Orm gave her a light shove with her shoulder. “You both seriously need hobbies.”

But her fingers fidgeted slightly with the hem of her sleeve, and her gaze wandered briefly, subconsciously, toward the classroom building, where she knew Ling would be walking in any minute now. 

She hadn’t stopped thinking about their tutoring session in the library. The way Ling had struggled to pronounce a tricky Thai phrase, furrowing her brow in frustration. The way she’d laughed, really laughed, not the polite kind. It had echoed in Orm’s head long after they’d parted ways.

She told herself it was nothing. Just amusement. Just curiosity. Still, her heart betrayed her, skipping a beat at the memory.

Kate tilted her head, watching her. “Mm-hmm. Thought so.”

“I’m literally just in a good mood. Sue me,” Orm muttered, brushing past them, but even as she walked ahead, a small, stupid smile lingered on her lips.

She didn’t say it aloud, but she was looking forward to seeing Ling again. Whatever had started yesterday, it wasn’t over.

Soon the bell rang, and the classroom gradually filled with chatter as students trickled in and settled into their seats. Orm swung her bag onto her desk, trying to act like her usual self, even as her gaze drifted once, then again, then again, to the figure seated two rows away.

Ling.

She looked so focused, already pulling out her notebook and pen, her brows drawn in mild concentration. Something about the way she tucked her hair behind her ear, absentmindedly, made Orm’s heart flutter for no reason at all. Every time Orm caught herself staring, she’d glance away quickly and curse under her breath. But a second later, she’d be peeking again.

And she hated how giddy it made her feel. Like some idiot in a teen drama. Before she could spiral further, their teacher clapped her hands at the front of the room.

“Okay, class, listen up! We still have enough time for a quick assignment, and I want you guys to do it in pairs. Feel free to pick your partner.”

The room immediately turned chaotic. Chairs scraped against the floor, voices overlapped, and everyone scrambled like it was a race. Prig and Kate gave each other a knowing look and casually bumped fists before sliding their desks together, no discussion needed.

Orm stood up slowly, already knowing what was expected of her. She and Bam had paired together a dozen times before. Easy, default choice. But today.... today wasn’t the same. Because Orm had someone else in mind. 

And as she crossed the room, so did Bam. They both arrived at Ling’s desk at the exact same time. Both Orm and Bam paused, equally surprised to find the other there. Their eyes met, a brief flicker of surprise giving way to matching smirks. In that instant, the air shifted. This wasn’t just about partnering up anymore. It felt like a challenge neither of them intended to lose.

Ling blinked up at them, startled. “Uh…”

“Wanna do it with me, Ling?” Bam asked, flashing her signature warm smile.

Ling’s gaze shifted between the two girls, a flicker of hesitation crossing her face. For half a second, her eyes lingered on Orm, as if she was waiting. Hoping, maybe. Orm’s heart leapt, but she panicked. Old habits kicked in. Instead of saying what she felt, her lips curled into a smirk.

“What you looking at, Kwong?” she said, half a tease, half a shield.

Ling stiffened. She assumed Orm wasn’t serious. That it would be just another little prank.

And just like that, the moment shifted.

So, Ling turned to look at Bam. “Let’s go,” she said quietly, offering a faint smile.

And that was it.

Orm’s stomach dropped. She hadn’t expected it to hurt, but it did. More than she wanted to admit. It was like someone had pulled a rug out from under her, except she was the one who yanked it herself. She stood there for a beat too long, fists clenched at her sides, before scoffing and spinning around.

“Whatever,” she muttered under her breath, storming back to her seat. She didn’t even look at who she ended up with, just sat next to a random classmate, and opened her book without a word.

Ling glanced back once.

Orm didn’t.

Ling felt it instantly; something was off. Orm had returned to being unreadable, but sharper now. Distant. Cold. And Ling didn’t know why. The teasing had confused her, sure, but now… this cold shoulder was something else entirely.

Bam leaned closer and pointed something out on their worksheet, but Ling wasn’t really listening. Her eyes kept drifting toward Orm, every few seconds, hoping to catch a glance. A look. Anything.

But Orm never looked back. She was too busy cursing herself… and cursing Ling. Stupid Lingling Kwong. Stupid, stupid, stupid, fucking stupid—

Kate had been watching Orm closely, especially the way she and Bam had both approached Ling’s desk earlier. Something was definitely off.

Prig, noticing Kate’s lingering gaze, followed it until her eyes landed on Orm. She frowned, murmuring under her breath, “What’s up with her?”

Kate gave a small shrug, eyes still trailing after Orm. “No idea… but something’s definitely going on.”

And Kate wasn’t wrong, something was definitely going on. Because if not, Orm wouldn’t be sitting there, cursing under her breath, grumbling to herself, and paying zero attention to the assignment she was supposed to be working on.

Well, Orm thought yesterday had changed something. That maybe Ling had seen her in a new light. That maybe they’d started something... softer.

But clearly, she’d been wrong.

And now, her anger needed somewhere to go.

And Orm wasted no time in channeling her frustration into something… or rather, someone.

Because as soon as the bell rang, she was already in motion. Petty acts, nothing too obvious, just enough to get under Ling’s skin. It started when Ling tried to pass by her in the hallway. Orm, very deliberately, stepped into her path, standing still with arms crossed.

Ling blinked, thrown off. “What is it, Orm? What do you want?”

Orm scoffed, tilting her head with mock innocence. “It’s not what I want,” she said, voice low, biting. She leaned in just a little, just enough for Ling to hear her next words clearly. “It’s what I don’t want.” Her eyes narrowed. “And it’s you. I don’t want you here.”

Before Ling could react, Orm turned on her heel and walked away, leaving her standing there, confused and just a little bit hurt. Ling frowned to herself, unable to shake the feeling that something had changed, again. 

Just yesterday, Orm had sat beside her, smiling, teasing, even helping. There was a calmness in the way they'd talked. Ling remembered how Orm had bitten her cheek to hide a smile, how she’d looked genuinely happy. Had she imagined it all?

Orm, meanwhile, was seething beneath the surface. Every glance Ling gave Bam during class, every laugh shared in the canteen, all chipped at her pride and twisted inside her chest. She didn’t understand why it bothered her so much. She shouldn’t care. But she did. And when she saw Ling and Bam sitting together at lunch, heads close as they talked, something snapped.

Orm stood abruptly, grabbing her Thai iced tea without thinking. As she approached, she forced her pace to look casual, but her heart was hammering. Then, with all the grace of a bad actor, she “tripped.”

The cold splash of milk tea soaked straight into Ling’s white uniform.

Gasps erupted around them. Ling froze.

“Oh my god,” someone whispered.

Orm stood still, blinking like it really had been an accident, though her clenched jaw said otherwise.

Ling inhaled sharply, staring down at the brown stain spreading across her shirt. She looked up slowly. “Seriously?”

Orm gave a shrug, feigning indifference. “Oops.”

Before Ling could speak again, Bam had already jumped in. “Are you okay?” she asked, concerned eyes scanning Ling’s front.

Ling gave a small nod, brushing droplets off her arms. “Yeah… I’m okay.”

Bam looked at Orm, and for a moment, the air between them turned sharp and cold. She didn’t say anything, just stared, knowing. Orm stared right back, challenging her in silence. But Bam didn’t challenge Orm today. She knew her too well, knew that once Orm was like this, she wouldn’t back down. They were best friends, after all.

Bam sighed and turned back to Ling, her voice softening. “I’ve got my P.E. uniform in my locker. It’s not much, but it’s clean. You can wear it if you want.” 

Ling hesitated. “No, it’s fine. You don’t have to—”

“It’s okay,” Bam interrupted gently. “Let’s go.”

Ling offered her a grateful look before standing up and walking away with her. Orm watched them, her fists curling at her sides. Everything inside her burned. She didn’t even know who she was mad at anymore; Ling, for not picking her? Bam, for always swooping in? Or herself, for ruining whatever the hell it was they had started to build?

She hated this. She hated the tightness in her chest. She hated that her day had started with a stupid smile, and now all she wanted was to rip it off her own face.

And yet, even as she stormed away, she couldn't stop herself from glancing once, just once, at the hallway Ling had disappeared into.

Ling stood by the courtyard wall, now dressed in Bam’s P.E. uniform, a white tee tucked into navy blue shorts. It was nothing out of the ordinary, but to Orm, it was a visual reminder of everything that had gone wrong. 

The soft cotton clung to Ling’s form differently. Her usual composure still showed in her posture, but she looked… unfamiliar. She looked like she belonged to someone else. And that made Orm irrationally angry.

Her chest tightened as she watched Ling laugh faintly at something Bam said, Bam standing far too close beside her. Orm’s fists clenched at her sides. She couldn’t even hear the conversation; they were too far, but that didn’t matter. The laughter, the comfort between them, it all scratched at something raw in Orm’s gut. Before she even realized what she was doing, she was storming toward them.

“Move,” she muttered under her breath, eyes locked on Ling.

She didn’t plan anything. Not really. Maybe a shoulder nudge. Something petty. Something to release whatever was clawing at her insides. But the second her body collided with Ling’s, it was too hard. Much too hard.

The impact knocked Ling completely off balance.

“Shit.” Ling’s startled gasp was sharp as her body tipped, arms flailing as she stumbled straight into the large row of flower bushes nearby. She fell hard, disappearing into the blooms with a crash of crushed petals and snapped stems. Gasps erupted immediately.

“Ling!” Bam’s voice was sharp.

“Oh my god,” Kate whispered, eyes wide. Prig just stood frozen.

Orm blinked, momentarily stunned herself. That… was not what she meant to do.

Ling sat up slowly, visibly dazed, her uniform smeared with pollen and crushed leaves. Faint scratches lined her arms and legs where the branches had caught her skin, thin trails of red standing out against her complexion. A deeper scratch ran along her left cheek, just beneath her eye, sharp, raw, and fresh. It looked like it stung. She blinked rapidly, as if trying to push through the sudden discomfort.

At first, she tried to brush it off, brushing petals off her arms, but it wasn’t the petals or the scratches. She just inhaled the pollen. And a second later, she coughed. Once. Then again. And again. Then came the wheezing. 

“Ling?” Bam stepped forward quickly, alarm creeping into her voice. “Are you okay?”

Ling shook her head, coughing harder now, her chest heaving with every breath. Her eyes had started to water, nose was already reddening. “I… I’m allergic…” she managed to say between coughs, voice breaking. “....to pollen.”

Kate and Prig’s eyes widened. “Oh shit.”

Bam didn’t hesitate. She crouched down beside Ling and helped her up, slipping an arm around her shoulder to steady her. “Come on. We’re going to the infirmary. Now.”

As they hurried off, Ling still coughing and trying to breathe, Orm stood completely still, the world around her blurring into a white noise. Her ears rang.

She hadn’t known. She hadn’t meant for this.

All she wanted was to shake off the jealousy, to act like she didn’t care. But seeing Ling now, eyes swollen, breath shallow, looking small and helpless, it made something inside Orm collapse. She’d never meant to hurt her like that.

The infirmary was quiet except for the soft ticking of a wall clock and the occasional creak of the nurse’s chair in the next room. Ling lay on the small bed by the window, her arm draped over her eyes to shield them from the fading afternoon light. 

The white P.E. shirt she wore was loose on her frame, and her scraped legs were propped slightly up with a pillow. Plasters now covered most of the visible scratches, but the one under her eye still throbbed gently beneath the cooling balm.

Bam had only just left a few minutes ago, reluctantly. She had insisted on staying until the nurse practically shooed her out. Ling had told her not to skip class, assuring her she’d be fine. And Bam finally gave in, squeezing Ling’s hand one last time before slipping out.

Ling hadn’t expected someone else to skip class for her. But someone did.

Orm Kornnaphat had been pacing in front of the infirmary door for what felt like forever. Her sneakers scuffed lightly against the floor with every step, and her palms were clammy from how often she kept rubbing them against her skirt. 

She had no idea what she would say. Apologizing had never been her strong suit; she usually joked her way out of awkwardness or simply avoided confrontation. But not this time. Not after what she did.

She hadn’t meant for it to go that far. God, she didn’t even know Ling was allergic to pollen. And that scratch on her face…

Orm clenched her fists and finally pushed the door open, inhaling sharply before stepping inside. Ling heard the creak of the door and lowered her arm slowly, blinking against the light. The moment her gaze met Orm’s, her expression hardened, not out of anger, but weariness.

Ling said, voice cool. “What do you want this time, Orm? Stab me with a knife? Why do you hate me so much?”

Her words landed harder than Ling likely intended. Orm flinched. Hate? Did Ling really think that’s what it was?

“I—” Orm’s voice cracked before she forced herself to steady it. “I don’t hate you. I never did. I just…” She faltered again, eyes dropping to the floor as shame crept up her spine like ice. “…I messed up. Badly.”

Ling stayed silent for a long moment, watching her. She had expected deflection, maybe another snarky remark. But not this. Not Orm standing there, looking like the fight had completely drained out of her.

The confident, loud Orm, who always had something bold to say, who never backed down, looked like she was the one hurting now.

Ling’s irritation softened, bit by bit. She didn’t understand Orm, not fully. But she could feel there was something tangled underneath her unpredictable behavior. Something real. And it stirred something in her too, something she wasn’t ready to name yet.

“I don’t know what your deal is,” Ling finally said, her voice quieter. “But you’re impossible, you know that?”

Orm’s lips parted slightly in surprise. But before she could respond, Ling shook her head and looked away, though not before Orm caught the tiniest smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.

It wasn’t forgiveness. 

Not fully. 

But it was a start.

Chapter Text

The morning sun filtered through the classroom windows, casting a soft golden hue on the desks as students began to trickle in. Ling stood by Bam’s desk, holding a neatly folded uniform in her hands.

“Thank you for letting me wear it,” Ling said, her voice calm, but her fingers gently smoothing the fabric one last time. “I’ve washed it. Or… do you prefer a new one?”

Bam let out a light chuckle as she accepted the uniform. “Glad I could help. And no, I don’t need a new one.”

Ling gave a small smile at that, eyes crinkling just a little. “Thank you again.”

“No problem.” Bam shrugged playfully and tucked the uniform into her bag, her gaze lingering on Ling for a second longer than necessary. “How are you feeling?”

Before Ling could reply, the classroom door swung open, Prig and Kate came in, chatting about something that was clearly hilarious between them. And right behind them, Orm Kornnaphat walked in… slightly slower, eyes rimmed with faint shadows of fatigue. She looked like someone running on sheer willpower.

The moment Orm spotted Ling and Bam standing so closely, something flickered across her face. Too quick for anyone else to catch, but Ling noticed. Of course she did. She always did.

Orm immediately looked away, muttering something to Kate before sliding into her seat without another glance.

Prig raised an eyebrow and looked between them. “Okay… what’s up with her?”

Kate followed her gaze. “No idea, she’s been like that for the past few days.”

Ling quietly observed, but her hand unconsciously brushed her arm, the one that still had faint scratches healing beneath the sleeve. She turned back to her seat slowly, trying to ignore the weight of Orm’s silence across the room.

But it settled in her chest anyway.

For the past few days, Orm had been a shadow of herself. She showed up to school, went through the motions, laughed at Prig’s jokes when she could, and smiled when expected, but none of it reached her eyes. Especially not when Ling was around.

Ever since that day in the infirmary, when Ling had looked at her with those tired but piercing eyes and asked, “Why do you hate me so much?” , the words had been looping in Orm’s head on a constant reel. Even the faint smile Ling gave her before she left, the one that should’ve eased the guilt a little, only made it worse. Because that smile wasn’t relief or forgiveness, it was surrender. And that terrified Orm more than anything.

So she avoided Ling. Subtly. Casually. Or at least she thought it was subtle. But Ling, ever observant, had noticed. Of course, she had. She noticed when Orm no longer sat in her usual spot during lunch. When Orm suddenly stopped turning her head during class even when Ling spoke. When her glances no longer lingered, and her voice, when it did reach Ling, lacked its usual teasing lilt.

And the worst part was, Orm was unraveling.

She wasn’t sleeping properly. Her appetite had vanished. Her mind was loud all the time, too loud to focus, too loud to rest. The restlessness crawled beneath her skin, making it impossible to sit still or breathe deeply. And today, it was no different.

If anything, it was worse.

Because today, after school, she was supposed to meet Ling again for their tutoring session. And she had no idea how she was going to face her. She didn’t want to face her today.

And the restlessness continued until their next class.

The sun was merciless during P.E. The class was out on the track field, doing circuit exercises. Orm tried to keep up, jaw clenched, sweat trickling down her back, her breaths getting shorter with every lap. Her legs felt like lead, but she pushed harder, needing to exhaust herself into distraction.

“Orm, you okay?” Kate had asked at some point, watching her closely.

“I’m fine,” Orm replied too quickly, waving her off. “Just tired.”

But her knees were wobbling. Her vision blurred around the edges. She told herself she could finish this lap, just this one, and then maybe take a break. Her pride wouldn’t let her stop now. Not when she’d already made a mess of everything else.

But then, everything tilted.

The heat pressed in, her legs gave out, and the world around her twisted sharply. There was a distant gasp, a flurry of movement, but Orm didn’t register any of it. She hit the ground hard, her body folding in like a puppet with its strings cut.

“Orm!”

“Someone get help!”

“Kate, go tell the coach!”

Voices blurred in the background. But one voice cut through the noise.

Ling.

She was the first one to move.

While others stood frozen, Ling was already sprinting toward Orm. She dropped to her knees beside her without hesitation, arms already reaching. Without a word, she lifted Orm off the ground and carried her on her back, like it was second nature. Her brows were furrowed, jaw tight, but her hands were impossibly gentle.

“You really don’t know how to take care of yourself, huh?” Ling muttered under her breath as she adjusted her hold, her voice low but laced with concern. The words might’ve sounded scolding, but her grip was steady, firm enough to shield, soft enough not to bruise.

Everyone watched in stunned silence as Ling carried Orm across the field, straight to the infirmary. And no one, not Kate, not Prig, not even Bam, dared to interrupt.

As Ling carried Orm across the sunlit field, her jaw clenched tighter with every step.

The weight in her arms wasn’t the problem. Orm was light, too light, in fact. Ling could feel how frail she’d become under her uniform, the sharp angles of her frame pressing through the fabric. It made something twist painfully in her chest.

Why didn’t you say anything? Stubborn girl.

Ling tried to keep her expression neutral, unreadable, but the panic hadn’t fully settled. Her mind was racing. The last few days flashed through her head: the way Orm barely looked at her, the way she flinched when their eyes accidentally met, how her laughter with Prig and Kate had dimmed. Ling had noticed it all. But she’d told herself not to push too hard, not after what happened.

Still, none of it justified this. Not this.

“You’re so stubborn,” Ling murmured softly as they entered the shaded hallway, her voice no longer scolding, just… sad. She adjusted her hold on Orm again, careful not to let her head loll too far.

She paused briefly outside the infirmary door, nudged it open with her foot, and stepped inside, determined to make sure Orm was safe, even if she wouldn’t ask for it.

About an hour later, Orm stirred slowly, blinking against the sterile white light above her. Her head felt heavy, her limbs sore, but there was a thin blanket over her and the faint scent of antiseptic in the air. The familiar chill of the school infirmary.

“She’s awake!”

The voice was Prig’s, followed closely by Kate and Bam crowding around her bedside. Prig nearly climbed over the railing in her rush. “God, you scared the hell out of us!”

Orm blinked again, still groggy. “What… happened?”

“You fainted, dummy,” Kate said, but her tone was gentle. “During P.E. We were freaking out.”

“You didn’t eat anything again, did you?” Bam added with a frown, hands on her hips. “Seriously, Orm.”

Before Orm could respond, Prig’s voice dropped, quieter now. “Thank God, Ling was strong. She was the one who carried you here.”

That made Orm blink harder.

“She was the first to run when you collapsed,” Kate said. “Didn’t even wait for the coach. Just picked you up and bolted.”

“She stayed here until we got in,” Bam added, glancing toward the now-empty chair in the corner. “Told the nurse she’d wait, just in case.”

Orm turned her head slowly to the side, her gaze falling on the chair by the bed. It was empty now, but the cushion was slightly indented, like someone had been sitting there not long ago. She imagined Ling sitting there, her arms crossed, probably pretending she wasn’t worried, but still watching over her.

The thought tugged something deep inside Orm’s chest. A quiet ache. A quiet warmth. Even after everything, Ling still helped her. Even after everything, she stayed. And somehow, that made her chest feel this strange warmth inside.

A moment later, the infirmary had gone quiet again.

After her friends left reluctantly, after much fussing, Orm was left alone with the hum of the ceiling fan and the gentle tick of the wall clock. The sterile air felt cold, but it was nothing compared to the heaviness inside her chest.

She stared at the ceiling for a while, not really seeing it. Her fingers curled into the blanket as she tried to make sense of everything.

What am I even doing?

She had avoided Ling for days, unable to face her, unsure how to apologize for everything she had said, everything she had caused. That faint smile on Ling’s lips in the infirmary should have comforted her, but instead it haunted her. It reminded her that she didn’t deserve it. Not after being so petty, throwing pranks at someone who didn’t even know what was going on in her head.

And now… Ling had carried her. Protected her. Stayed with her.

Orm swallowed hard, eyes fluttering shut.

She stayed.

She didn’t have to. Ling had every reason to walk away after the things Orm said and did. But she didn’t. And that realization cracked something in her. Maybe it was time she stopped running away. Maybe it was time she faced her, even if it made her nervous. And that meant something, coming from Orm Kornnaphat, who rarely felt nervous about anything. She had always been the confident one, the one who never wavered.

And later,

When Orm returned to class, the weight of the day still clung to her like damp clothes. The fatigue hadn’t fully faded, but she felt steadier now, both in body and in mind.

The classroom buzzed with its usual low chatter. Some students glanced her way, whispering. But she ignored them, her eyes locked onto one person. But before she could even reach Ling’s desk, Ling stood up so quickly it nearly startled her. Concern was written all over her face. No walls, no sarcasm, just plain worry.

“Are you okay now?” Ling asked, voice quiet but firm. 

Orm blinked momentarily before nodding. “I am,” she bit her bottom lip and continued. “Thank you for helping me, Ling. For carrying me to the infirmary.”

“You’re welcome,” Ling replied with a faint smile on her face before she added. “You sure you’re okay? We can cancel the tutoring today if you want to rest.”

Orm paused, then gave a small smile. It was shy, almost uncertain, but real. “I’m sure. I’ll see you later after school.”

Ling’s expression softened, and for a second, her shoulders seemed to relax. “You really sure you’re okay enough to tutor me?” she asked again, double-checking.

Orm chuckled gently. “I’m sure.”

Ling nodded, returning her smile. “Alright, see you later.”

And with that simple exchange, something unspoken passed between them. A truce, maybe. A silent understanding. Neither of them said it out loud, but it was there, clear as day. They were okay.

Orm walked back to her seat with a little more ease in her step. The weight she'd been carrying for days felt lighter now. Ling didn’t hate her. Not even after all the chaos she’d caused.

And maybe… just maybe… they could find their way back from this.

Orm had been looking forward to the tutoring session all day. The color had returned to her cheeks, and though she still felt a little lightheaded from the earlier episode, she told herself she was fine. She wanted to see Ling, wanted to show her she was okay, and maybe even make up for the mess she’d caused.

But then she saw it.

From across the hallway, just outside the library, Ling was standing with Bam. Orm froze mid-step, her gaze locking onto the scene as if it played in slow motion. She couldn’t hear what they were talking about, didn’t need to. But it was the way Bam tilted her head slightly, smiling up at Ling with that same softness that made Orm’s stomach twist. And just before Bam turned to leave, she reached out and took Ling’s hands, squeezing them gently.

Orm’s breath hitched. Her fingers curled into fists at her sides.

Jealousy. That awful, unrelenting burn clawed its way back into her chest. She didn’t even know what to call it exactly, possessiveness? Insecurity? Or something darker, more selfish? All she knew was that she hated it. Hated that Bam touched Ling like that. Hated that Ling didn’t pull away.

But she wasn’t going to make the same mistake again. She wasn’t going to be dramatic, wasn’t going to snap or act out. She told herself that over and over as she stormed toward the library. She told herself to breathe. To be mature. To calm down.

She failed.

When she reached Ling, already settled at their usual table, flipping through her notes, Orm blurted, “Let’s just cancel today.”

Ling blinked, eyebrows drawing together. “Are you okay? Do you feel faint again?”

Orm rolled her eyes, more harshly than she meant to. “I’m just not in the mood.”

Ling’s frown deepened. “Orm…”

Orm turned on her heel, already walking away. She couldn’t sit across from her, not when her head was filled with Bam’s fingers around Ling’s hands.

“Orm.” Ling’s voice was firmer now. And then she felt it, Ling’s hand wrapping around hers, stopping her in her tracks. “Something is definitely wrong. What is it? Tell me.”

Orm froze. Her pulse jumped. “It’s nothing,” she muttered, trying to pull her hand free.

Ling didn’t let go. “I know it has something to do with me. Now tell me.”

Orm scoffed, feeling the words boiling in her throat. “It has nothing to do with you.”

Ling stepped closer. “You were fine earlier.”

“I said it’s nothing!” Orm yanked her hand free, but Ling didn’t move, her gaze fixed and unwavering.

But Ling didn’t back down. She couldn’t, wouldn’t , let it go. She needed to know what it was, needed to understand the shift she saw in Orm’s eyes. So she kept asking, gently at first, then more firmly with each evasion.

Orm kept brushing her off, deflecting with sarcasm and eye-rolls, but Ling didn’t budge. She kept pushing, determined to reach whatever it was Orm was guarding so fiercely.

Until finally, Orm snapped.

“Fine!”

There was a brief silence before something cracked. Orm’s voice trembled when she finally spoke. “I hated it, okay?” she snapped, her cheeks flushed. “Seeing you with Bam. I hated it. I hate seeing you with anyone that’s not me, but especially her, because you two are just…close. And she’s always smiling at you, and you let her. You let her touch you—” Her voice cracked again. “And then you wore her fucking shirt! And I know I don’t have the right to say anything, but it’s driving me insane!”

Ling was confused at first, trying to process Orm’s words. But then her expression shifted, eyes softening, and Orm could see it. Something dawning behind those calm, dark eyes. Understanding. Ling finally understood why Orm behaved this way.

But Orm’s words kept spilling. “I don’t even know what this feeling is! I don’t know what to call it. Jealousy? Possessiveness? Whatever it is, I hate it. I hate feeling this way, and I hate that you don’t—”

Her rant was cut off.

Ling stepped in and kissed her on the lips.

It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t panicked. It was quiet, sure, and impossibly gentle. It felt like an interruption and an answer all at once. A “shut up” and a “listen” wrapped into one moment. Orm’s eyes widened. Her lips parted slightly in shock, her body frozen, unsure of how to react. Her thoughts were in a whirlwind, crashing against the warmth of Ling’s mouth on hers.

When Ling finally pulled back, she didn’t say a word. Her eyes lingered on Orm’s for a moment longer before she calmly turned, picked up her bag, slung it over her shoulder, and walked away, slow and deliberate, her composure intact as always.

Orm stood there, stunned, her heart hammering like it was trying to break out of her chest. She touched her lips, almost not believing it had happened. Lingling Kwong kissing her… that was never in the dictionary, the playbook, or any version of reality she’d imagined. But it was real. 

And then, her voice rang out, a little breathless, a little defiant.

“If you’re gonna kiss me,” she called after her, “Then kiss me properly!”

Ling stopped.

A smirk curved on her lips, slow and devastating.

She turned back around, walked back toward Orm without hesitation, and this time, she didn’t hesitate. Her hand cupped Orm’s cheek as she kissed her again, deeper, firmer. No more hesitation. No more interruptions.

Just a proper answer.

And in that moment, all the tension, the confusion, the jealousy, it melted into something undeniable. No words, no explanations. Just lips meeting lips, and the kind of answer that didn’t need to be spoken.

The world could’ve kept spinning, collapsing, or catching fire, Orm wouldn’t have noticed. Not when Ling kissed her like that. Like she meant it. Like she knew exactly what she was doing. Like this.

Whatever this was, it might just be the start of something dangerous, ridiculous… but completely worth it.

Stupid Lingling Kwong.

Chapter Text

Orm hadn’t stopped thinking about the kiss since yesterday. Not for a single second. 

She remembered the press of Ling’s lips on hers, the way her breath hitched, the quiet gasp that slipped out before everything else disappeared. It wasn’t just the kiss, it was the silence after. The way Ling walked off like she hadn’t just shattered Orm’s entire emotional compass. Like it wasn’t a big deal. 

Except it was.

It replayed in her head like a broken record. She tried to focus on class, on notes, on literally anything else . But her mind kept drifting… drifting to Ling. Because Orm couldn’t forget. Not the taste. Not the softness. Not the way it made her feel like something had shifted in her, like she wanted more. 

God, she wanted more.

And, truthfully, Ling did too.

Across the room, diagonally two rows over, Ling felt the same way. She sat at her desk pretending to be completely composed, pen moving across her notes, but every now and then, her eyes would drift toward Orm, only to find Orm already watching her. She didn’t admit it, not out loud, but her thoughts kept looping back to Orm. That kiss. That damn kiss. She never expected it to be like that, like some whirlwind that crashed through her logic.

And the way Orm shouted, “If you’re gonna kiss me, then kiss me properly!” Ling had been thinking about that line all morning.

Ling was many things: composed, logical, strategic.

But she wasn’t immune.

So, in the middle of the lesson, Ling raised her hand and asked to use the restroom. Her voice was calm. Neutral. But Orm caught the tiniest pause as Ling walked past her desk.

Orm waited thirty seconds. Maybe a minute. Then she stood and excused herself too. No one questioned it. Not even the instructor, who just waved her off.

When she slipped into the restroom, Ling was there. Waiting. Leaning casually against the sink like she hadn't timed that on purpose.

“I knew you’d follow,” Ling said, her voice low and unreadable.

Orm crossed her arms, biting back a smile. “You sound very sure of yourself.”

“I am.”

A beat. A glance.

Ling stood there, calm on the surface, but her fingers gripped the edge of the sink just a little too tight, like she was bracing for something. Or hoping for it. Orm took a slow breath, her eyes scanning Ling’s face. The calm curve of her lips, the sharp line of her jaw, and the faintest flicker of tension behind her otherwise composed expression.

Then Orm stepped in, closing the distance with a boldness that made Ling’s breath catch. The space between them vanished in an instant. Orm was close now. So close, Ling could smell the subtle floral note of her perfume, feel the warmth radiating off her skin. She tilted her head, her voice barely above a whisper.

“I can’t stop thinking about that kiss,” Orm said, voice hushed.

“Neither can I,” Ling murmured softly.

Then, Ling’s gaze dropped to Orm’s lips and lingered. And that alone was answer enough. So Orm leaned in, her fingers brushing the fabric of Ling’s uniform as if testing the waters. Then, with that same boldness, the one that always seemed to unravel Ling just a little, she pressed her lips to hers again.

The kind of kiss that was supposed to be quick, just a taste, but it wasn’t. Orm’s fingers slid into Ling’s hair, tugging it a little. Ling smirked, her hands gripping Orm’s waist. They kissed like they’d been waiting hours. Days.

When they pulled apart, Orm panted, brushing her thumb along Ling’s jaw. “We’re gonna get caught one of these days,” she whispered.

Ling smirked, breathless. “Then you better stop following me.”

Later that day, their next class was moved to the multimedia lab. New setting, new seating, an opportunity. Orm took it. Of course she did. She swapped seats with a classmate, ending up right behind Ling. Ling didn’t say anything, but Orm could tell she noticed.

Orm subtly shifted her chair. Just an inch closer. Then another. Ling didn’t look at her, but Orm noticed how her back straightened. Then came the tapping.

Halfway through the lesson, Orm tapped her shoe lightly against the leg of Ling’s chair. Just once. Then again. A slow rhythm. Ling didn’t react, her posture remained straight, disciplined. Except for the slight twitch of her fingers and the faintest flush crawling up her neck. 

Orm didn’t stop there, of course. She felt encouraged. She leaned slightly forward and began tracing invisible lines along Ling’s back with the soft tip of her pen. A circle. A heart. A question mark. A badly drawn star. She wondered if Ling could guess what she was spelling. Ling didn’t turn around, but her hand clenched the edge of the desk. And Orm noticed her ears turned red.

Orm grinned.

Cute.

During lunch break, 

On the way to the canteen, Orm spotted Ling walking down the hallway, her varsity jacket casually slung over her shoulder, expression unreadable as always. The chatter of other students faded into background noise. For a second, Orm just watched her, watched the way Ling’s hair caught the light from the window, the calm, deliberate way she moved, like she always had a plan.

And then, Orm didn’t think. She just moved.

Without breaking stride, she walked straight toward her, heart pounding with something between mischief and longing. As she passed, her arm brushed against Ling’s, intentionally. Light. Barely a graze. But it lingered just long enough to send a quiet message.

Ling paused. It wasn’t visible to anyone else, but Orm caught it, the slight hitch in her step, the flicker in her eyes as she turned, catching Orm’s smirk over her shoulder. There was a tension now, electric and silent. Neither of them said a word. They didn’t have to. Orm kept walking like nothing happened, biting back a grin. But she didn’t get far.

Because just a few steps later, Ling caught her wrist. Didn’t say a word. Just turned, pulled her into the nearest empty classroom, and shut the door behind them.

Orm barely had time to gasp before Ling kissed her again. Fierce. Needy. Like she had been holding back for hours, when in fact, they just kissed each other this morning. But who cares, right? They just wanted to kiss each other at every chance they got.

Orm melted into it, her back pressed against the cool wall, one hand fisting Ling’s shirt.

“Could’ve just said hi,” Orm mumbled when they pulled away.

Ling exhaled, nose brushing hers. “You started it.”

Orm grinned. “And you’re terrible at ending it.”

And Ling kissed Orm again. And Orm gasped, smiling against Ling’s lips.

“You’re getting bolder,” Orm whispered.

“I blame you,” Ling replied, resting her forehead against Orm’s. “You’re impossible to ignore.”

Orm grinned. “You’re not even trying that hard to resist.”

Ling's eyes narrowed slightly, amusement dancing there. “That obvious?”

“Painfully.”

Both chuckled, and Orm leaned in to steal one last kiss from Ling’s lips, a brief, lingering brush that made Ling’s eyes flutter closed. Then she straightened up, smoothed out her uniform, and gently adjusted Ling’s collar with careful fingers.

“I’ll see you later,” she said softly, her voice laced with something unspoken.

With that, Orm walked out of the empty classroom. She joined her friends in the canteen and slid into the seat beside Prig like nothing had happened. Like she hadn’t just kissed Lingling Kwong against the door of an empty classroom. Like her heart wasn’t still racing, and her lips didn’t still tingle with the memory.

She reached for her tray, unbothered, cool as ever.

But her friends were not. Prig, Kate, and Bam exchanged a glance over their drinks, subtle, suspicious, and laced with unspoken questions.

Orm didn’t even flinch. She simply pulled out her compact mirror, flipped it open with one hand, and uncapped her lip gloss with the other. With practiced ease, she reapplied a fresh coat to her lips, pressing them together like nothing in the world was out of place.

Prig raised an eyebrow at her. “Okay, I gotta ask,” she said, holding her milk tea. “Why do you keep reapplying your lip gloss like you’re about to film a music video? That’s like the third time today. What’s going on?”

Orm blinked. “It’s called maintenance, Prig.”

“It’s called suspicious,” Prig muttered, sipping her drink.

“It’s dry in here,” Orm said, deadpan.

“Uh-huh. And the way you keep looking across the room like you’re waiting for someone to jump you, very normal behavior.”

Orm finally closed her compact with a snap, giving Prig an innocent look that fooled absolutely no one. “A girl can’t keep her lips kissably soft?”

Prig scoffed. “Not unless she’s expecting someone to be kissing them.”

Orm almost choked on her drink, but she recovered quickly. 

She didn’t reply. She just smiled into her drink, the gloss on her lips catching the light, still tasting faintly of Ling.

Later that afternoon, things didn’t calm down. If anything, the tension simmered just beneath the surface, electric and impossible to ignore. Their next class was supposed to be serious, lecture-heavy, note-taking, the kind of thing that demanded full focus. 

But the moment Orm slipped into her seat and pulled out her phone under the desk, any intention of focusing dissolved. She didn’t hesitate. Her fingers moved fast, thumbs tapping out the first text like a reflex.

Orm: How do you expect me to focus when you’re sitting there like that?

She glanced up, watching Ling from across the room. Ling didn’t respond right away. Her gaze stayed forward, posture perfect, but the corners of her lips twitched. Then Orm’s screen lit up, a new notification from Lingling Kwong.

Ling: Like what?

Orm smirked, the corner of her lips curling with mischief as her eyes flicked toward Ling’s still, unreadable posture. She looked back down, thumbs dancing across the screen as she typed a reply; quick, cheeky, and utterly unapologetic.

Orm: Like you wanna kiss me.

This time, she watched Ling very closely. Ling didn’t react much, but there it was; that tiniest, smug lift in her expression as she typed:

Ling: I do wanna kiss you.

Orm bit her lip, pretending to focus on her notebook. But how was she supposed to focus when Ling had literally just said she wanted to kiss her, like they hadn’t been sneaking kisses at every chance they got?

Orm: Meet me by the back stairs in 5.

No reply. But Ling stood up exactly five minutes later.

Orm was already waiting by the back stairs, pacing slightly until she saw her. 

The moment Ling arrived, Orm didn’t wait; she grabbed her by the collar, pulled her close, and kissed her like they hadn’t just seen each other five minutes ago.

And when they broke apart, Ling rested her forehead against Orm’s, breathing hard. “You’re trouble,” she whispered.

Orm only smirked, brushing her thumb along Ling’s jaw. “You like trouble,” she murmured, before kissing her again. This time slower. Sweeter. But no less addictive.

And all of it, every kiss, every glance, every stolen moment, was theirs. Hidden in between classes, tucked behind doors and glances, and lip gloss. 

And they were only just getting started.

Ling stepped out of the locker room, adjusting the hem of her jersey as the late afternoon sun bathed the corridor in gold. The field wasn’t far, she had every intention of heading straight there. But halfway across the courtyard, someone stepped into her path.

Orm.

She was leaning against the pillar casually, like she'd been waiting there for a while, but the glint in her eyes said otherwise, like catching Ling in her jersey had been a spontaneous reward.

Ling stopped in her tracks, the corner of her lips curling up in amusement. “Are you stalking me now?”

Orm tilted her head. “Depends. If you looked any less good in that jersey, I might’ve kept walking.”

Ling raised a brow, lips twitching. “So this is a fashion review?”

Orm didn’t answer right away. Instead, she stepped forward, slow and confident, her gaze sweeping from Ling’s sneakers up to the ponytail she’d just tied. Then she reached out and brushed a nonexistent speck of dust off Ling’s shoulder, fingertips lingering just a little too long for it to be casual.

“You look hot in a jersey,” she murmured, her voice a teasing hum that made Ling’s heart beat a little faster.

Ling chuckled, shaking her head. “Do you flirt like this with every athlete, or am I just the lucky one?”

Orm smirked. “Just you. Obviously. You’ve ruined everyone else for me.”

Before Ling could say anything else, Orm leaned in and pressed a soft, quick kiss to her cheek, warm lips brushing skin that was still cool from the changing room.

“Do well,” she whispered near Ling's ear.

For a moment, Ling just stood there, caught off guard. Not by the kiss, but by the way Orm always managed to throw her off balance with the simplest things.

She finally exhaled a laugh, giving Orm a sideways glance. “You know, I’m not gonna be able to focus on the game now.”

Orm shrugged with a mischievous grin. “Good. That gives me an excuse to kiss you better afterward.”

Ling blinked, amused, and then shook her head again, trying not to smile too hard. “You’re such a menace.”

Orm winked. “Your menace.”

And with that, she turned and walked off like she hadn’t just thrown Ling’s entire focus into the wind. Ling watched her go, biting back the grin that refused to be tamed, before jogging to the field. Cheeks warm, heart warmer.

You’ll be the death of me, Orm Kornnaphat.

Chapter Text

For the next few days, their rhythm found a certain… pattern. A magnetic pull.

Playful touches. Sneaky glances. Stolen kisses behind corners or between classes. Quick, breathless, and addictive. Orm initiated most of them, her flirtation ever bold and shameless, but Ling didn’t exactly resist. In fact, she had begun to anticipate them. Wait for them. Want them.

And today wasn’t any different.

The late afternoon sun poured gently through the library windows, casting golden streaks across the wooden table where Ling sat with her Thai notes. Orm, opposite her, was supposed to be tutoring, emphasis on supposed to .

Instead, she was distracted, as usual.

Her pen tapped lightly against Ling’s knee under the table in an unspoken rhythm. Then she shifted and began doodling in the corner of Ling’s notebook: a badly drawn cat. And then a heart. And then, for reasons unknown, a fried egg.

Ling stared at it for a moment, then raised an eyebrow. “Are we learning Thai or starting an art career?”

Orm grinned, completely unbothered. “Multitasking. I’m expanding your vocabulary and your sense of beauty.”

“You drew a cat with three legs.”

“Exactly. Very avant-garde.”

Ling rolled her eyes, but her lips twitched into a small smile. “I should’ve known better than to take tutoring from someone who’s more chaotic than I am.”

Orm leaned her chin into her palm, eyes warm and fixed on Ling. “Just admit that you like it.”

Ling didn’t answer right away. She just met Orm’s gaze for a second longer than she meant to, cheeks pinkening. She looked back at her notebook, pretending to focus, but her voice came out softer. “I do.”

Orm grinned, propping her chin on her hand as she looked at Ling. “Good.”

Ling cleared her throat and browsed through her phone. At one point, she paused, thumb hovering over her phone. Her brows furrowed slightly as she stared at a phrase on the screen.

“What do these words mean?” she asked, turning the phone toward Orm. “I’ve been meaning to ask.”

Orm leaned over, squinting at the phrase. “ Krung Thep… the City of Angels that never sleeps. It’s kind of a poetic nickname for Bangkok. Locals sometimes say it when they’re trying to describe how alive the city feels. Chaotic, beautiful, never still.”

Ling glanced down at the phrase again, mouthing it quietly to herself. There was a softness in her eyes that Orm caught, a subtle curiosity.

“I see,” Ling said, her voice thoughtful. “I’ve been thinking…”

Orm perked up immediately. “About me? Can’t blame you.”

Ling chuckled. “That too,” she shook her head, feeling amused. “But also… I was thinking I’ve barely seen enough of Bangkok, aside from the usual school-home-school cycle. I’ve been wanting to explore more of Bangkok. Not just the malls or the usual spots, like the real city. The side streets, the hidden places, all that.”

Orm’s eyes immediately lit up, the way they always did when something exciting sparked in her brain. “Say no more. I know a place. It’s cozy, it only opens in the evening until late at night, and it’s perfect.”

Ling blinked. “You mean… now?”

Orm nodded, suddenly brimming with energy. “Yes! Right now. Come on, you said it yourself,  you want to explore.”

Ling looked down at her open notes, half-doodled, half-unfinished. “What about the tutoring?”

Orm shrugged casually, twirling her pen once before tossing it into her bag. “We’ve got plenty of time, Ling. I can tutor you tomorrow to make up for today. And if that’s not enough, I’ll even do a weekend session. Think of it as… overtime.”

Ling studied her face for a second, those big boba eyes sparkling like she’d just been offered an adventure, or a date. Probably both. And how could she say no when Orm looked at her like that? Like a lost puppy.

She exhaled a soft laugh and closed her notebook. “Alright,” she said, grabbing her bag. “Let’s go.”

Orm beamed, victorious, already slinging her bag over her shoulder and tugging gently at Ling’s wrist like a kid dragging her friend toward trouble.

The sun was already starting to dip by the time they stepped outside together, casting soft orange hues over the school courtyard. Bangkok, with all its neon chaos and unexpected corners, was waiting.

And Orm had the perfect place in mind.

The late afternoon sun filtered through the dusty windows of the bus as it rattled down a quieter part of the city. Ling and Orm sat side by side, the gentle sway of the vehicle rocking them into a calm rhythm. Orm had claimed the window seat without asking, because of course she would, and Ling didn’t mind one bit.

As the bus rolled past rows of small shophouses and local eateries, Orm pressed a hand to the glass and turned toward Ling, eyes sparkling. “Look, look, Ling,” she said, pointing to a cozy café with vines curling up the window frames. “Their coffee is amazing. I’ll take you there next time. Promise.”

Ling glanced at the café before turning her eyes back to Orm. “Next time?” she teased, lips tugging into a small smile.

Orm didn’t miss a beat. “Of course. I’m planning out your entire food tour already.”

They passed another shop, this one bright and colorful, with a chalkboard sign full of squiggles and pastel desserts. Orm’s excitement visibly spiked. “Oh! That place. Ling, the desserts are chef’s kiss . You have to try the coconut cake. I will not take no for an answer.”

Ling let out a soft chuckle. “Okay,” she said, nodding patiently like she was already halfway convinced.

Then came another small restaurant, nestled in a corner with a faded red sign. “Do you like boat noodles?” Orm asked, practically bouncing in her seat. “Because I do. I will definitely take you there too.”

“You’re very passionate about food,” Ling observed, raising an amused brow.

“I’m passionate about you experiencing the right food,” Orm corrected with mock seriousness, before grinning. “It’s part of the full Bangkok experience. I’m your personal guide now.”

Ling didn’t say much else, just smiled and watched her rattle on, her hands animated and her face bright with enthusiasm. She found herself thinking how cute Orm was like this. So expressive, so alive, like the whole city came alive through her.

Then, quietly, Ling leaned a little closer and whispered, “You know… if the bus were empty, I would kiss you right here and now.”

Orm’s face turned a shade pinker than the strawberry smoothie poster they just passed. She blinked once, then smacked Ling lightly on the shoulder. “You idiot,” she hissed under her breath, biting back a smile.

Ling laughed, the sound low and warm, and just then the bus slowed to a stop.

Orm quickly tucked her hair behind her ear to hide the blush still creeping up her neck. “Let’s go,” she said, standing up and slinging her bag over her shoulder. “It’s our stop.”

Ling followed her, still chuckling softly to herself as they stepped off the bus and into the golden glow of early evening.

The sky had started to shift into hues of orange and purple as Ling and Orm walked side by side down the small alley lined with shops. The warm glow of fairy lights strung above the walkway flickered to life, giving everything a soft charm that felt almost unreal. They were only a few blocks away from the café when Orm suddenly stopped mid-step.

“Ooh, wait. Ling, look at that!” she gasped, tugging at Ling’s sleeve and pointing to a small accessories shop tucked between a bookstore and a smoothie stand.

Ling glanced at the display. Rows of bracelets, hair clips, rings, and enamel pins sat neatly arranged under the warm light. The sign above the shop was in glittery font. It looked like a place that smelled strongly of peach-scented hand cream.

Orm pressed her nose lightly against the glass, eyes wide. “So cute,” she whispered, and without waiting, she pushed the door open and stepped inside.

The little bell above the door jingled.

Ling followed with a soft sigh. She wasn’t the type to wear accessories; her style was more clean, simple, and understated, but she didn’t mind watching Orm fawn over shiny things.

“Do you like it?” she asked, standing beside her and pretending to admire a tray of butterfly pins.

Orm nodded enthusiastically, already drifting toward a stand of charm bracelets. “Yeah… I used to collect stuff like this when I was younger. Look at this one… tiny strawberries!” She held it up toward Ling with excitement in her eyes.

Ling leaned in slightly. “Very you,” she murmured, and meant it.

Orm grinned and moved to the next tray, now admiring a pair of heart-shaped hair clips. She tried one on by clipping it to the end of her bangs and turned to Ling. “Too much?”

Ling tilted her head. “No. Kinda suits you.”

“Hmm.” Orm looked in the small mirror and then burst out laughing. “Okay, yeah, maybe just a little much.”

Ling chuckled quietly, but her eyes were focused. Every time Orm picked something up and smiled at it or murmured “This one's cute” to herself, Ling noted it carefully in her mind: two bracelets, the strawberry one and a simple black-beaded one; a ring with tiny stars on it; and the heart clips. 

All of them. Check.

At one point, Orm stared at the matching bracelets longer than the rest. Her fingers hovered over them like she was debating something.

Ling noticed.

Orm ended up shaking her head and muttering under her breath, “Maybe later.” Then she moved on to a spinning rack of pins.

Ling’s brows lifted just slightly, curiosity piqued, but she didn’t comment.

A few minutes later, Orm turned to her. “I’m gonna run to the toilet real quick, okay? Don’t leave me behind.”

Ling nodded. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

The moment Orm disappeared behind the curtain near the back, Ling sprang into action. She moved with the stealth of a seasoned spy, grabbing every single item Orm had paused at: the bracelets, the star ring, the hair clips, a cute keychain, even a random enamel pin shaped like a tiny dumpling that Orm had giggled at.

She brought them all to the cashier with a straight face, like she was buying batteries and shampoo, and quickly paid before the cashier could offer a gift bag. Ling shoved the items into her own bag and zipped it shut just as the sound of the toilet door creaked open again.

Orm skipped back over. “You didn’t leave. I’m impressed.”

“Not going anywhere,” Ling replied smoothly, already adjusting her bag strap.

Orm tucked a few strands of hair behind her ear. “Let’s go. I think the cafe should be open already.”

Ling nodded and followed her out, stealing one last glance at the shop before the bell jingled again behind them.

She smiled to herself.

The hidden café was tucked behind a narrow alley, past a cluster of vines and lantern-lit walls, like a secret waiting to be found. The entrance was a wooden archway adorned with fairy lights and creeping ivy, and inside, it opened up into a dreamy little garden. Tables were scattered beneath large parasols, surrounded by lush greenery and dim golden lights that blinked softly like fireflies.

Orm led Ling through the garden path with a quiet sort of pride, as if she were showing her favorite place to someone important, which, in this case, she absolutely was.

“This place is like a warm hug after a long day,” Orm said as they reached a table tucked near the edge of a koi pond. The soft bubbling of the water and the faint sound of jazz music playing from inside made everything feel a little unreal.

Ling took a seat under the parasol, glancing around. “It’s cozy,” she said simply, but her expression gave away more than her words. Relaxed, a little curious, and completely charmed by both the place and the girl across from her. “I didn’t know there’s a place like this near my place.”

“You live nearby?” Orm asked, raising her brows in surprise.

Ling nodded. “Yeah, just a block from here.”

“Convenient,” Orm muttered with a small smile before turning to the staff to place her order.

Ling took a moment to scan the menu, then gave her order as well. Once everything was set, they made their way to a cozy table tucked beneath a parasol. Ling reached it first and sank into her seat, glancing up as Orm followed with an easy stride.

“I used to come here with my cousins,” Orm said, sliding into the seat across from her. “When we wanted to get away from school or… life. It kind of feels like a little bubble, doesn’t it?”

Ling nodded, eyes still taking in the surroundings. “It’s peaceful.”

The staff served their orders: coffee for Ling, a Thai tea frappe for Orm, and a shared plate of honey toast stacked with whipped cream and strawberries. The fairy lights swayed gently above them with the breeze.

“Okay,” Orm said, stirring her drink slowly, “serious question.”

Ling raised an eyebrow. “Alright.”

Orm leaned in, resting her chin in her hand. “What really brought you here, to Bangkok?”

Ling stared at her coffee, watching the swirl of cream dissolve into the dark brew. She took a breath, her fingers curling around the cup for comfort.

“My father is a politician,” she said finally.

“Oh?” Orm’s brows lifted as she tilted her head, fully engaged. “Like, serious politician or... lowkey neighborhood committee type?”

Ling let out a soft laugh. “Serious. Always on the news. Big speeches. Big headlines.”

Orm gave a playful wince. “Oof. Sounds intense.”

“It is.” Ling paused, swirling her coffee with the spoon. “Things are… tense back home. Protests, politics. So, my father sent his kids away. Somewhere safe. Somewhere quiet.”

Orm didn’t interrupt. She just sipped her drink and waited, her eyes soft.

“He wanted to send me to the UK,” Ling continued, voice quieter now. “But I asked to come here instead.”

Orm blinked. “Why Thailand?”

“Because it’s my mother’s hometown,” Ling said with a small smile. “She passed away when I was little, but… I don’t know. I thought maybe being here would make me feel closer to her. Even if just a little.”

There was a pause, filled only by the soft rustle of leaves overhead and the sound of someone blending drinks inside.

Orm reached across the table and gently placed her hand over Ling’s. “It makes perfect sense,” she said softly. “And I’m really glad you came.”

Ling glanced at their joined hands, then back at Orm’s warm expression. “It was hard, at first,” she admitted. “Especially when someone kept pulling pranks on me.”

Orm gasped, hand to chest. “How dare you accuse me?”

Ling laughed. “Caught red-handed.”

Orm grinned sheepishly, giving Ling’s hand a gentle squeeze. “I’m sorry I was a bitch to you.”

“You made my days colorful,” Ling said, squeezing back with a smile. “And mildly chaotic.”

They both laughed, and for a while, they just talked. About their favorite street foods, Orm passionately argued that mango sticky rice could be eaten at any time of day, while Ling swore by grilled pork skewers and iced milk tea. 

They shared silly childhood stories, like Orm once trying to dig a tunnel in her backyard to escape nap time, or how Ling once tried to run away from piano class and ended up locked in the janitor’s closet for an hour.

By the time they finished dessert, the sky had darkened, and tiny droplets began to fall, soft at first, like nature was being polite.

Orm looked up, blinking. “Is that… rain?”

Ling followed her gaze. “Maybe just a little—”

A second later, the drizzle turned into a sudden downpour.

“Okay! Not little!” Orm squeaked, grabbing her drink as the water hit the edge of the parasol.

Ling laughed, already halfway to standing. “Quick! Save the toast!”

Orm clutched the plate like it was a newborn kitten. “This toast will not die in vain!”

They were giggling uncontrollably by the time they ducked around the parasol’s edge, the rain now pouring with full force. Their shoulders were damp, and Ling was trying to shield both of them with her jacket when Orm shouted, “Let’s make a run for it!”

But before she could take off, Ling caught her wrist mid-laugh.

“Let’s go to my place,” she said, breathless. “Come on!”

Orm didn’t hesitate. She gripped Ling’s hand, grinning despite the rain in her face. “Lead the way, General!”

And with that, they dashed off through the night, soaked, laughing, hand in hand as fairy lights blurred behind them in the rain.

Chapter Text

By the time they made it to Ling’s place, they were both soaked to the bone, but laughing, breathless from running through the rain like kids skipping class.

Ling fumbled with the keys, her hair plastered to her face. “Don’t drip on the welcome mat,” she teased, glancing back at Orm.

“It’s already a lost cause,” Orm laughed, wringing the edge of her skirt as she stepped inside. “Your mat’s a goner.”

Once the door closed behind them, Ling headed straight to her room and returned with a towel and a change of clothes, an oversized white T-shirt with a tiny printed logo at the hem, and a pair of drawstring shorts.

“Here,” Ling offered the bundle, trying not to smile too much. “Thought you’d be comfortable in this.”

Orm took the clothes and arched a brow, holding the T-shirt up. “Do you only own neutral colors? No fun patterns?”

“It’s either this or my old high school PE uniform,” Ling deadpanned.

Orm made a face. “This is fine.”

A few minutes later, after a hot shower and changing clothes, they both flopped onto the couch, towels still draped over their heads like makeshift hoods. The scent of rain clung to the air, mixed with fabric softener and popcorn Ling had thrown into the microwave as soon as she’d dried off.

Ling sat cross-legged, towel now looped around her neck. Orm leaned over and began gently patting Ling’s damp hair with her own towel.

“I can do it myself, you know,” Ling said, though she didn’t move.

“I know,” Orm murmured, still drying her hair. “But I want to.”

That simple act, Orm’s hands in her hair, gentle and unhurried, made something warm unfurl in Ling’s chest. She tilted her head slightly, eyes meeting Orm’s. And Orm, catching that look, soft, quiet, impossibly tender, felt her breath hitch.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Orm muttered, towel now forgotten in her lap.

“Like what?” Ling asked, voice low, teasing.

“Like you want to kiss me,” Orm whispered, barely above a breath.

Ling’s gaze softened. “You’ve said that before,” she murmured, matching Orm’s quiet tone.

Orm’s thumbs gently brushed over Ling’s cheeks. “I know,” she said, smiling faintly. “So stop looking at me like that.”

“I can’t,” Ling whispered, leaning into her touch. “Because I do want to kiss you.”

Orm didn’t answer further. She just leaned in and kissed her. It was different this time, not rushed or playful like before. It was soft, slow, lingering. The kind of kiss that made time slip sideways. Ling’s hand rose to gently cup Orm’s cheek, and for a moment, neither of them moved.

When they finally pulled apart, Orm blinked, cheeks flushed a warm pink.

“I… uh… okay,” she mumbled and quickly busied herself with the remote. “Let’s pick a movie before I combust.”

Ling chuckled, reaching for the popcorn. “I’ll let you pick, but I swear if you choose some sappy—”

“Rom-com,” Orm declared with a smug grin, clicking on a pastel-colored thumbnail. “We’re soaking wet and just had a moment. This calls for cheesy romance.”

Ling rolled her eyes, but the small smile tugging at her lips betrayed her amusement. “Fine.”

They started upright on the couch, but twenty minutes in, Orm had shifted closer, eventually resting her head against Ling’s shoulder. Their fingers found each other, tangling loosely. Ling adjusted just slightly, arm curling around Orm’s back, thumb brushing gentle circles on her knee.

The movie played on, laughter and soft dialogue filling the cozy room.

But halfway through, Ling glanced down at the girl tucked against her. Orm’s breathing had evened out, her lips slightly parted in sleep, towel slipping off her head.

Ling smiled to herself, heart impossibly full. Carefully, she reached for the remote and turned the volume down, just enough to keep the moment hushed. Then, ever so gently, she slid an arm under Orm’s knees and lifted her.

Orm murmured something incoherent in her sleep, eyes fluttering but never opening. Ling carried her to the bedroom, set her down on the bed with practiced care, and pulled the blanket over her.

She stood there for a beat, just watching her.

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” Ling whispered with a soft grin, brushing a stray hair from Orm’s cheek. Then she turned off the lights and padded back to the couch. She thought of sleeping beside Orm on the bed. But if she stayed any longer, she might not be able to keep her heart from running ahead of her. 

So tonight, she chose the couch.

The morning light slipped quietly through Ling’s curtains, casting gentle shadows across the floor. Orm stood by the front door of Ling’s apartment, still dressed in Ling’s clothes, bag slung over one shoulder, and her phone in hand. Her driver texted her that he was in the parking lot already. 

She glanced back one last time toward the living room where Ling lay asleep on the couch, the blanket kicked halfway off, one arm resting over her eyes, mouth slightly open.

Orm smiled to herself. She had wanted to wake Ling up, to at least whisper goodbye or maybe steal a forehead kiss. But seeing her like this, so peaceful, so completely relaxed, made Orm hesitate.

“Sleepyhead,” she murmured under her breath with a soft chuckle.

Her gaze shifted to the chair nearby where Ling’s hoodie was draped over a chair. With zero hesitation, Orm walked over, grabbed it, and pulled it over her head. It swallowed her a bit, Ling clearly liked oversized clothes, the sleeves falling past her hands, but it was warm, and it smelled like Ling.

Perfect.

As she stepped out and closed the door behind her, she tapped out a message on her phone: Didn’t wanna wake you. You looked like you were dreaming of something nice, must be about me.

Ling stirred around thirty minutes later, groggy and tousled. She yawned, rubbing the sleep from her eyes as she slowly sat up. Her first thought was Orm. 

She stretched, glancing toward the bedroom and instinctively making her way there, expecting to see her curled up beneath the sheets. But the bed was empty. A slight frown tugged at her brows as she padded over to the bathroom, also empty.

Confused, Ling returned to the living room, her gaze sweeping over the space. The quiet suddenly felt a little louder. She sat down on the couch, reached out for her phone, and squinted at the screen. As soon as she read the message, her lips curled into a lazy grin.

“Silly,” Ling muttered, letting out a chuckle as she rubbed her eyes. 

Still, her smile didn’t fade as she padded to the kitchen to make some coffee, Orm’s message warming her just as much as the morning light spilling through her windows.

Ling didn’t realize anything was missing until later that morning, when she arrived at school. Her steps slowed as soon as she saw Orm down the hall, chatting casually with someone near her locker. At first, she didn’t notice it. But then Ling narrowed her eyes.

Wait.

That hoodie. That very familiar hoodie.

Orm was wearing it like it was hers. Sleeves pushed up to her elbows, hood half-draped over her shoulder, clearly very comfortable, like she hadn’t just waltzed out of Ling’s apartment wearing her hoodie like a badge of honor.

Ling sauntered up beside her, arms crossed, smirk already forming. 

“Nice hoodie.”

Orm didn’t even flinch. She turned to Ling, raising both brows like she was waiting for a compliment. “I know. And it smells really good too.”

Ling huffed a small laugh. “You could’ve asked.”

Orm cocked her head playfully. “Would you have said no?”

Ling paused for effect, then shook her head with a smile. “Not even close.”

Orm beamed and closed the door of her locker. “Good. Because I wasn’t planning to return it anytime soon.”

“Of course,” Ling said with a smirk as she opened her locker door.

“So… tutoring session later?” Orm leaned casually against the locker beside her, arms crossed, a playful glint in her eyes.

Ling grabbed a book from inside and tucked it into her bag before shutting the door with a soft thud. “Can’t today. I’ve got practice, tournament’s coming up.”

“Oh, soccer?” Orm’s face lit up, her interest piqued.

Ling nodded. “Yeah. How about this weekend? Saturday?” she offered. “Didn’t you say you didn’t mind overtime?”

Orm smirked, stepping in a little closer. “Saturday works,” she said, reaching up to gently fix the edge of Ling’s collar. “Practice well, okay? You gotta win that game for me.”

Ling rolled her eyes, but there was no denying the warmth blooming in her chest, or the way her fingers itched to reach out and pull Orm closer by the hand and never let go. She didn’t, though. Not here. Not yet. They were still walking through the school corridor, surrounded by classmates and chatter. But as they moved in sync, side by side, Orm’s pinky brushed lightly against hers. A casual touch. Barely there.

Yet Ling felt it like a spark. She glanced down briefly, half expecting Orm to retreat, to pretend it was accidental. But she didn’t. The soft brush lingered, almost like an invitation. And Ling? She didn’t pull away.

Instead, her hand shifted, just a fraction, close enough that their pinkies touched again, deliberately this time. Ling didn’t say a word. She didn’t have to. The small smile tugging at the corners of her lips said enough.

Unbeknownst to them, Kate watched from across the hall, a knowing smirk playing on her lips as she caught sight of the two walking side by side.

During lunch break, the cafeteria buzzed with the usual midday chaos, metal trays clattering, chatter bouncing off the walls, and the scent of stir-fried noodles thick in the air. Orm had just sat down with her lunch, still humming quietly to herself from her earlier interaction with Ling, when Kate plopped into the seat across from her with narrowed eyes and a suspicious smirk.

“Okay, spill,” Kate said, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “What’s up with you and Lingling Kwong?”

Orm froze mid-bite, her fork hovering awkwardly in the air. “Huh? What do you mean?”

Kate raised a brow. “Oh, don’t play dumb. Last I checked, you hated her guts. But this morning? I saw you two walking to class together. Side by side. Like friends. Or... more.”

Prig slid in beside Kate, already squinting at Orm like she was analyzing a crime scene. “Something’s definitely going on,” she said, pointing her chopsticks at Orm like an accusation. “Did you guys kiss or something?”

Orm took a sip of water at the exact wrong moment and promptly choked. She spluttered, eyes widening as water shot up the wrong pipe. Her hand flew to her chest as she coughed, loudly and violently, sounding somewhere between a dying seal and a sputtering kettle.

“Oh my god!” Prig gasped, jumping in her seat. “They totally kissed each other!”

Orm coughed hard, trying to wave them off, tears welled in her eyes from the coughing fit, and her face turned a shade redder with every hack. But Bam, ever the calm one, quietly handed her tissues and gently patted her back.

“You okay?” Bam asked softly, her brows slightly furrowed.

Orm nodded between coughs, her face still slightly red, not just from choking. But more from the questions and the teasings.

Kate leaned in, eyes gleaming. “Don’t even try to dodge the question, Kornnaphat. We’re not letting this go.”

Orm groaned, dabbing at her mouth with a tissue. “Fine! Yes, we kissed. Happy?”

Prig’s mouth fell open dramatically. “Holy shit.”

“I knew it,” Kate smirked, practically vibrating with gossip-fueled energy. “You, who once said you’d rather lick the school floor than talk to her for five minutes, kissed her.”

Orm rolled her eyes, feigning nonchalance. “It’s not a big deal.”

“Not a big deal?” Prig shrieked, almost knocking over her drink. “Girl, you’ve been blushing at your phone all morning! And I bet that’s her hoodie you’re wearing right now.”

Kate pointed an accusing finger. “Wait. That hoodie. Is that hers ?”

Orm tugged at the oversized hoodie she’d borrowed with a small, guilty smile. “Maybe.”

Prig let out a dramatic gasp. “I knew it looked familiar. I saw her wear that last week!”

All the while, Bam sat quietly beside Orm, picking at her salad. Her expression didn’t shift much, but there was a slight pause in her movements. She didn’t say anything, didn’t tease like the others, but her eyes briefly flicked to Orm’s hoodie before going back to her food.

Kate, oblivious to the moment, was already leaning forward again. “So how was it?”

“The hoodie?” Orm deadpanned.

“No, the kiss , you menace.”

Orm couldn’t help the small smirk tugging at her lips. “It was… nice.”

Prig flailed. “Ugh! You’re impossible. I demand details. Full rundown. Hand gestures. Timeline. I want—”

“You’re not getting a PowerPoint,” Orm cut in, glaring at Prig. “And stop making it a thing. It just... happened.”

Kate exchanged a look with Prig before smirking again. “Sure, sure. Just happened.”

Orm raised her brows. “Can I eat now, or will I be cross-examined about what shampoo Ling uses next?”

Prig raised her hand, eyes bright. “Actually, I do wanna know that. Her hair smells so good.”

Bam finally spoke, her voice calm and a little amused. “Let her eat. We’ll interrogate her again after dessert.”

Orm groaned dramatically, slouching in her seat. “I need new friends.”

“You love us,” Kate chimed, smug and satisfied.

Orm glanced down at Ling’s hoodie, a faint smile playing on her lips. “Unfortunately.”

As they continued to eat in the cafeteria and, of course, continued to tease Orm too, Orm felt the fabric of Ling’s hoodie between her fingers and smiled to herself. Yeah... unfortunately, she did love them.

And maybe, just maybe, someone else too.

Chapter Text

Ling stood in front of Orm’s gate, one hand clutching her notebook, the other adjusting the strap of her sling bag that hung lazily off her shoulder. She exhaled slowly, willing herself not to overthink. It’s just studying. A tutoring session. Nothing else.

Still, she’d spent an embarrassing amount of time choosing what to wear: a plain white T-shirt, a black varsity jacket, and her go-to jeans. Casual, not trying too hard. But clean. Effortlessly put together. At least, that was the goal.

She rang the bell.

A few seconds passed before the door creaked open, revealing Orm in the most effortless level of chaos Ling had ever seen. Her hair was tied into a messy bun that looked like it had been done without a mirror. Her oversized T-shirt, clearly one size too large, hung off one shoulder, revealing smooth skin and the strap of a sports bra. She wore shorts, barely visible, and was completely barefoot.

Ling's breath caught for a second. She looked away instantly.

“You’re not even trying,” Ling muttered, pretending to examine the potted plant beside the door.

Orm smirked, blinking the sleep from her eyes. “I didn’t think you’d show up on time , Miss Perfect.”

“I said Saturday at ten. It’s literally ten.”

“Yeah, but I thought I’d have like a fifteen-minute window to fix my hair or… put on pants.”

Ling arched a brow. “You consider that not pants?”

Orm ignored the jab, stepping aside with a dramatic sweep of her arm. “Just come in.”

The interior of Orm’s house was a mix of cozy and cluttered despite it being a huge mansion. A few books were stacked precariously on the coffee table, there were two empty mugs beside a half-finished candle, and a blanket tossed over the back of the couch. The dining table had been transformed into a makeshift study station. Two chairs, a couple of pens, a highlighter with its cap missing, and one slightly crumpled Thai language textbook.

They sat down side by side, just close enough for Ling to catch the subtle scent of Orm. Something warm, like vanilla mixed with fabric softener and a trace of coconut shampoo. She tried not to inhale too deeply.

Without a word, Ling dug into her sling bag and pulled out a small pouch. She opened it and casually began placing several cute accessories on the table: hair clips, bracelets, a ring, a keychain, and some pins.

Orm blinked. “Wait… are these—?”

Ling kept her gaze on the notebook. “You said they were cute the other day. So… here you go.”

There was a pause. Ling glanced up, just in time to see a slow grin spreading across Orm’s lips.

“Oh my God,” Orm gasped. “You bought all these for me? You actually remembered every single thing I called cute?”

Ling shrugged, but her ears were already turning pink. “Yeah.”

Orm immediately clipped one of the sparkly hair clips into her bun with zero hesitation, then slipped the bracelet onto her wrist and the ring onto her finger. She lifted her hand to admire them like they were gold.

“This is so cute. Thank you!” she beamed, looking straight at Ling.

Ling tried to suppress the stupid grin fighting to surface. She failed. “You’re welcome,” she mumbled, trying to clear her throat. “Now, can we please start the tutoring?”

“Bossy,” Orm teased, but she flipped open the Thai book obediently.

They got through a few lines without incident. Orm explaining tones, Ling nodding, trying to concentrate, and the occasional scribble in the margins. But then Orm started leaning in. Subtly, at first. Then… less subtly.

“See?” Orm said, tapping Ling’s notebook. “This word should be written with mai ek tone mark. Like this.”

Ling stared at the paper. “…What?”

Orm turned to her, grinning. “Are you even listening, or are you distracted by something?”

Ling cleared her throat. “Your elbow is on my notebook.”

Orm glanced down, then leaned even closer, her cheek just a few inches from Ling’s. “Oh no,” she whispered dramatically, “Is it distracting you?”

Ling looked like she was about to spontaneously combust. She pushed her chair back an inch, flustered. “Focus.”

But Orm just laughed, bright and delighted, and leaned back, completely unbothered. “You’re so fun to tease,” she said, twirling her pen like a villain in a teen drama.

“I’m not here for your entertainment,” Ling grumbled, flipping the page with unnecessary force.

“Yes, you are,” Orm grinned. “You just didn’t know it.”

Ling let out a long-suffering sigh, doing her best to bury her face in the book. But under the table, her knee kept brushing Orm’s. And she didn’t move it away.

After nearly two hours of half-studying and half-Orm-doing-everything-except-studying, Orm let out a dramatic yawn, stretching both arms overhead as she stood from the chair.

“We’ve done enough,” she declared, cracking her back with exaggerated flair. “You’re a fast learner.”

Ling blinked at her, unimpressed, leaning back against her chair with crossed arms. “You barely let me read the book.”

Orm grinned, unapologetic. “That’s because you looked like you were about to write a thesis on Thai tonal markers. You’ll survive,” she padded barefoot across the floor and opened the fridge, pulling out a bottle of water before turning to Ling with a glint in her eyes. “Wanna grab ice cream and hit the market?”

Ling straightened slightly. “Now?”

Orm shrugged casually, but her gaze lingered. “You said you wanted to explore more of Bangkok, right? The weekend market’s not far. Good food, cute booths, weird keychains. C’mon, it'll be fun.”

Ling didn’t even hesitate. “Sure.”

That made Orm’s lips curl into something bright and warm. “Perfect. Give me a minute. I’m gonna get ready. If you want a drink or anything, help yourself.”

And then she disappeared down the hallway.

Twenty minutes later.

Ling glanced at the wall clock.

Still no Orm.

She drummed her fingers against the table. The Thai textbook stared back at her like it was judging her for agreeing to this.

Thirty-five minutes.

Ling had moved to the couch now. She’d already responded to all her messages, reorganized the apps on her phone, and watched a ten-minute video on how durian was harvested. Twice.

An hour and fifteen minutes.

She was this close to texting Orm, “Are you alive?” when she heard footsteps. Finally.

Orm emerged from the hallway like a goddess descending from Mount Olympus. Freshly showered, makeup light but glowing, hair air-dried into perfect soft waves. She wore a white baby tee that clung in all the right places, black jeans, and a pair of white sneakers.

Ling opened her mouth to say something. Something , probably sarcastic. But that was before Orm lifted her arms to fix her hair, causing her shirt to ride up just enough to reveal the curve of her waist… and the faintest peek of her belly button.

Ling swallowed. Hard. For the second time that day. Her jaw tightened as she stared straight ahead, blinking rapidly like her brain was buffering.

“Sorry for making you wait,” Orm said breezily, grabbing her phone and slipping it into her little shoulder bag. “Shall we go now?”

Ling blinked again. Orm’s voice had brought her back to Earth. She sat up straighter than necessary. “Uh… yeah. Let’s go.”

Orm smirked. “Wow. That was a lag.”

“You took a hundred years getting ready,” Ling muttered, pushing herself off the couch.

“And I came out looking hot,” Orm quipped, already at the door. “Worth it.”

Ling sighed deeply, like someone who knew this was going to be the first of many sanity-challenging outings. But her ears betrayed her, turning a very specific shade of pink. 

“Let’s just get ice cream,” she grumbled as she followed.

But she didn’t say no. And Orm? She noticed the way Ling looked at her the entire walk to the gate, quietly, discreetly, and like she was absolutely doomed.

The weekend market buzzed with life, bright tarps fluttering overhead, smells of sizzling meat and sweet syrup in the air, music spilling from cheap speakers while kids darted past with balloon animals. Vendors shouted over one another, selling everything from secondhand clothes to glittery phone cases to spicy squid on sticks.

Ling walked beside Orm, her hands shoved casually into her pockets, eyes quietly scanning everything with a mix of curiosity and mild sensory overload. She wasn’t used to this kind of chaos, colorful and loud and alive. It was new. But she found herself oddly okay with it. Especially when Orm kept lightly brushing against her arm, not on purpose… probably.

They stopped at an ice cream cart tucked between two noodle stalls. Orm was mid-sentence, talking about how suspiciously uniform the fish balls looked, when Ling handed over a few baht notes and turned back around with two cones.

One vanilla, one chocolate.

Orm blinked. “You bought both?”

Ling shrugged, handing her the chocolate. “Seemed fair.”

Orm raised an eyebrow, grinning. “Trying to impress me?”

Ling rolled her eyes, but her lips twitched. “Bribing you into focusing next time.”

Orm took a long, smug lick of her ice cream. “Well, it’s working.”

They walked slowly, melting cones in hand, weaving through the crowd as if they had nowhere to be. They paused at food stalls with zero intention to buy, but ended up buying everything. Grilled chicken skewers. Mango sticky rice in a banana leaf. Fried dumplings too hot to hold.

At one point, Orm held out a skewer with a single juicy piece of grilled pork left on the end. “C’mon. Open up.”

Ling looked at her, expression flat. “I’m not five.”

Orm tilted her head, the corner of her mouth tugging up. “That’s debatable.”

Ling sighed through her nose, but leaned in anyway, biting the meat off the skewer. “Satisfied?”

Orm grinned. “Deeply.”

Ling tried to hide her smile behind a bite of mango, failing miserably.

They turned a corner and stumbled onto a little carnival game booth wedged between two boba stands. It had bright lights, loud sound effects, and a wall of slightly-off plush toys dangling from hooks.

Ling pointed at the row of stuffed animals. “Let me try this one.”

Orm eyed the booth warily. “You know these games are rigged, right?”

Ling stepped up anyway, hands already fishing out cash. “I’m the next soccer captain. I got aim.”

Orm leaned back against the edge of the booth, crossing her arms and quirking a brow. “Oh? Then this should be entertaining.”

Ling smirked and tossed the first ball. 

She Missed.

Orm didn’t say anything. She simply raised her eyebrows in slow, exaggerated amusement, lips twitching.

Ling sniffed and adjusted her stance, pretending to roll her shoulder like an athlete warming up. “I was calibrating.”

Ling picked up the second ball, more focused now, a glint of defiance in her eyes. She narrowed her stance, locked onto the pyramid of cans, and tossed… and missed again.

Orm bit back a laugh. “Strong theory so far.”

Ling squinted at the target, squaring her shoulders like she was trying to will the cans to surrender out of sheer embarrassment. “You’ll see.”

On the third try, Ling took a breath, calculated her aim with a little more focus, and let it fly with a clean snap of her wrist… she hit the bullseye.

The cans tumbled off the shelf in a satisfying heap. The vendor gave an exaggerated, half-hearted clap before lazily grabbing a small plush from the prize bin and handing it to Ling. A sad little plush, definitely a bunny, but the vendor insisted that it was a puppy, a golden retriever.

Ling looked at the creature. She was still sure it was a bunny. But she shrugged, that didn’t matter. She handed it to Orm without fanfare. “For distracting me all day.”

“I’m honored,” Orm took it with both hands, grinning like she’d just won the lottery, and hugging the weird little plush to her chest. “I’m naming it Goldie since the vendor says it’s a golden retriever. Goldie and I will cherish this moment forever.”

Ling chuckled under her breath and looked away, pretending to examine a nearby lantern stall, even though she was mostly just trying to hide the grin spreading on her face. Orm was really… cute. Unfairly so.

She shook her head, eyes lingering on Orm just a second too long. Maybe it was the heat. Or the market lights flickering above. Or maybe it was the way Orm looked down at the plush, genuinely amused and weirdly soft at the same time.

Whatever it was, Ling suddenly didn’t mind missing the first two shots at all.

As they continued wandering, Orm suddenly grabbed Ling’s wrist and tugged her toward a glowing booth draped in twinkle lights.

“Photo booth,” Orm said, already pulling aside the curtain. “Quick. Before I change my mind.”

Ling blinked. “Wait, I wasn’t—”

But Orm had already dragged her inside. The machine whirred to life. A countdown started on the screen.

“Three.”

“Wait, I’m not ready—”

“Two.”

Orm turned to her, smirking. “Just go with it.”

“One!”

The first flash went off. Ling was mid-protest.

The next three were a whirlwind. One frame of them laughing, one where Orm squished Ling’s cheeks together, another where they both made ridiculous peace signs like they were twelve. And in the last frame, right as Ling relaxed, Orm leaned slightly, resting her head on Ling’s shoulder with a soft sigh.

When the strip was printed out, Orm grabbed it first and studied it proudly. “These are gold.”

Ling barely heard her. She was too busy looking at Orm. At the light in her eyes, the way she tucked her hair behind her ear, the quiet satisfaction on her face as she admired the photos.

And that last picture. The one where Orm’s head was on her shoulder. Ling swallowed, heart doing a slow, unfamiliar flutter as she stared at it.

Orm glanced up, catching her staring. “What? Do I have sauce on my face?”

“No,” Ling said quickly, blinking. “Just… you look happy.”

Orm smiled at her, a real one this time. Not smirking. Not teasing. Just warm. “I am.”

Ling’s heart skipped again. She didn’t know what kind of day this was. But she was pretty sure it accidentally became her favorite one.

The sun was lower now, dipping just beneath the buildings, painting the sidewalk in shades of amber and rose gold. The bustle of the market had faded behind them, replaced by the quieter rhythm of side streets and distant motorbike hums.

Orm was still cradling Goldie , the questionable bunny-dog plush, tucked securely against her side as they strolled toward her house. The air had cooled, a soft evening breeze winding through the neighborhood trees, brushing along bare arms. Without saying anything, Ling slid off her jacket and gently draped it over Orm’s shoulders. Orm blinked, looking down at the jacket, then back at Ling with a slightly raised brow. 

“It’s cold,” Ling said casually. Her voice was neutral, but there was something in the way she adjusted the collar for Orm that made the gesture feel intimate.

Orm tilted her head. “What about you?”

Ling shrugged, stuffing her hands into her jeans pockets. “I’ll manage.”

Orm didn’t argue. She honestly liked the gesture, liked it a little too much, actually. She pulled the jacket tighter around herself and breathed in. It smelled like Ling. Crisp. Clean. A hint of citrus. And something calm and grounding she couldn’t name but already associated with her.

They walked on, the quiet between them soft rather than awkward. The sky above turned dusty lavender, and the light hit Ling’s cheekbones in that cinematic way that would’ve made any stranger walking past stop and stare. Orm glanced sideways at her more than once, trying to memorize it all without making it too obvious.

Halfway down her street, Orm let her fingers drift. Just slightly. Just enough to brush against Ling’s hand. Testing. She thought maybe Ling wouldn’t notice. But Ling did.

And instead of pulling away, Ling slowly hooked her pinky around Orm’s. It was subtle. Gentle. A question, maybe. Then, without a word, Ling took her hand fully, their fingers interlacing like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Neither of them said anything. They just smiled. Small, secret smiles. And kept walking like that, hand in hand, bathed in the soft light of early evening.

When they reached the gate in front of Orm’s house, they both slowed to a stop, reluctant. Orm adjusted her bag strap with her free hand, glancing at Ling, then the door, then back at Ling. She looked like she had more to say but hadn’t figured out how to say it yet.

Ling reached out, lifting a hand to tuck a stray strand of Orm’s hair behind her ear. Her fingers lingered for a moment, just brushing Orm’s cheek. Her expression softened, something tender hidden behind her usually composed eyes.

“Thanks for today,” Ling murmured.

Orm’s throat felt oddly tight. She squeezed Goldie a little harder. “You’re welcome, nerd.”

They both laughed softly, but the laughter melted into something quieter. The air between them shifted, slower and heavier now. Still. A breathless stillness. Ling took a tiny step forward, and Orm didn’t move back. Then, Ling leaned in.

The kiss was slow. Not their first, technically. But it felt like it. Like the first time they kissed without pretense or teasing or built-up tension. It was soft. Shy. But just confident enough to say I like you, without either of them having to actually say it.

Ling’s hand brushed Orm’s jaw, her touch barely there. Orm’s lips curved faintly into a smile against hers, just before they pulled apart.

Orm blinked, dazed, then let out a breathy laugh as she stepped back. “You’re dangerous, Lingling Kwong.”

Ling didn’t even try to look innocent. She smoothed the jacket over Orm’s shoulders again. “Yeah? Will that make you run away?”

Orm looked her dead in the eyes, voice steady. “Never.”

Ling’s lips twitched. “Go inside.”

Orm grinned, almost reluctantly. “I’m keeping this jacket, by the way.”

Ling raised a brow. “My hoodie isn’t enough?”

“Nope,” Orm replied, hugging the jacket closer. “And you can’t stop me.”

Ling chuckled, shaking her head. “Didn’t plan to.”

Orm stepped forward again, quickly this time, and kissed Ling’s cheek, soft and warm. “Night, Ling.”

Ling blinked. She hadn’t expected that one, but she managed to mutter. “Night, Orm.”

Orm waved, still grinning, and headed for the door. Ling stood there until Orm disappeared inside. And then, walking back down the street alone, Ling couldn’t stop the smile spreading across her face. It started small, then bloomed, wide and goofy and completely uncontainable.

She shoved her hands into her pockets and walked the rest of the way home grinning like an idiot, because yeah….

Orm was definitely keeping the jacket.

And maybe, just maybe, she was keeping a little more than that.

Chapter Text

Orm strolled into school like she owned the place, which, socially speaking, she kind of did. But today, there was something different. Draped over her uniform was a varsity jacket she’d never worn before, all black with leather sleeves, the number 11 stitched neatly over the chest.

Ling’s jacket.

And she was wearing it like a damn trophy.

From across the hall, Prig’s voice rang out like a radar locking onto a target. “Oh my god, don’t tell me, this jacket is also Ling’s?” she gasped dramatically, clutching her chest.

Orm didn’t even break stride. “Good morning to you too, Prig,” she said dryly, sliding into her seat at their usual table.

Kate narrowed her eyes, arms crossed. “Okay but, wait. Are you guys like... a thing now? Is she your girlfriend or what?”

Orm propped her elbow on the table and smirked lazily. “I don’t know… maybe.”

Kate squinted. “What do you mean maybe ?”

Prig leaned in like she was watching a scandal unfold in real time. “Do you want her to be your girlfriend, though? Or is this just for fun?”

That made Orm pause.

She hadn’t really asked herself that directly. Not in a way that required an answer. Ling wasn’t like the others she toyed with. Ling didn’t chase Orm, didn’t flirt back recklessly, didn’t even seem fazed by her usual charm. And that… was exactly why Orm kept coming back. Kept thinking about her. Dreaming, even.

Yeah. She wanted her. Properly. But did Ling want the same?

Prig waved a hand in front of her face. “Hello? Earth to Orm? You glitched out there.”

Kate burst out laughing. “Wow. Can’t believe a day like this would come. Someone actually has the great Orm Kornnaphat over here short-circuiting.”

Orm rolled her eyes and tossed her hair back with mock drama. “Shut up. You’re both annoying.”

Prig grinned. “You’re blushing.”

“I’m not.” Orm hissed, yanking the jacket tighter around herself like it would protect her from further teasing. But her ears were warm. She could feel it.

She grumbled something under her breath, but she couldn’t help the small smile tugging at her lips. Despite all the teasing, a warm buzz settled in her chest.

The jacket still smelled like Ling. And she wasn’t taking it off any time soon.

Just as the teasing started to die down, Prig leaned back in her chair and casually twirled a strand of hair around her finger.

“Anyway, haven’t you guys heard?” she said, glancing between them. “The school’s fundraising night is happening next week.”

Kate perked up. “Oh, right! I totally forgot. Ugh, I need a dress.”

Prig nodded. “Me too. I saw this glittery one online last night, elegant but still sparkling because apparently this one’s gonna be extra fancy since they’re inviting donors.”

Kate turned to Orm, an impish grin spreading across her face. “And what about you? Is your prince charming coming to the big night?”

Orm didn’t miss a beat. She groaned and rolled her eyes. “Shut up. Don’t call her that.”

Kate smirked, unfazed. “Princess charming, then?”

Orm gave her a deadpan look. “You're impossible,” but there was no heat behind it. Her fingers toyed with the cuff of Ling’s jacket, thoughtful. “I’ll ask her later.”

But her mind was already wandering. Would Ling even want to go to something like that? She didn’t seem like the dress-up-and-dance type. But then again, neither was Orm. 

At least not until now. Still, just thinking about asking her made her heart race a little.

The late afternoon sun cast a golden hue over the school field, where the soccer team was halfway through practice. The sound of whistles, thudding cleats, and shouts echoed across the open space. 

Ling was in the zone; focused, fast, and fierce. Her dark hair was pulled into a high ponytail, strands clinging to her sweat-slicked face, her movements sharp and precise as she weaved between players.

From the bleachers, Orm sat with her legs elegantly crossed, sunglasses on, looking like she’d just walked off a runway and accidentally wandered into sports land. She wasn’t the type to sit through anything remotely athletic, but for some reason, watching Ling charge across the field like it was a battlefield she owned? That was a different story.

She tilted her head, chewing absentmindedly on the straw of her iced coffee. God, why does she make sweating look… hot? Orm nearly rolled her eyes at herself. She never got flustered. Never. But watching Ling command the field with all that quiet intensity was doing something weird to her brain chemistry.

Down on the field, the team took a quick break. Kapook, the captain, elbowed Ling lightly as they grabbed their water bottles.

“So,” Kapook smirked, “What kind of spell did you cast on her?”

Ling blinked. “Huh?”

Kapook nodded toward the bleachers. “It’s Orm Kornnaphat, Ling. She hates sports. And yet, there she is, front row, sunglasses on like she’s at fashion week.”

Ling glanced over and sure enough, Orm was lounging there like she owned the entire stadium. She looked absurdly out of place, and also somehow like she belonged.

“I didn’t cast anything,” Ling muttered, trying to sound casual, though a slight grin tugged at her lips.

Kapook raised a brow. “Uh-huh. Keep telling yourself that.”

After practice, Ling slung her towel over her shoulder and made her way toward the bleachers, her hair damp with sweat. Orm waved at her with the kind of smug energy that suggested she’d been waiting for this moment.

“You stalking me now?” Ling asked, half-teasing as she approached.

Orm shrugged coolly and handed over a chilled water bottle. “I like watching you sweat.”

Ling choked on the first sip and coughed, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. “Seriously?”

Orm gave a mock-innocent blink. “What? It’s a compliment.”

Before Ling could come up with a comeback, a voice called out from across the field.

“Yo, Ling! Wanna hang after this?” Ying shouted, holding her bag.

Kapook chimed in before Ling could reply. “She’s taken , guys!”

Ling groaned and shook her head, lips twitching. “Ignore them.”

But Orm didn’t. She kept her grin, pleased. Taken, huh? She liked the sound of that. She liked it even more that Ling didn’t correct them. Didn’t push her away.

Yeah, Orm thought, glancing sideways at her as they walked toward the bleachers together, she’s mine.

The sun had started its descent, casting warm amber light over the now-empty field. The lingering sounds of practice had faded, replaced by the rustling of wind through the trees and the distant hum of school maintenance wrapping up for the day. Ling and Orm sat side by side on the bleachers, a water bottle between them, their shoulders close, but not quite touching.

They hadn’t said anything for a moment. Ling let out a breath, towel still draped around her neck.

“So,” Orm said casually, eyes fixed ahead, “When’s the tournament again?”

“At the end of this month,” Ling replied. “Semis next month, final at the end of next month. If we make it.”

Orm raised an eyebrow. “ If ?”

Ling smirked. “Alright, when we make it.”

“Better.” Orm leaned back on her palms. “You better win the game for me.”

That made Ling turn to her, smiling in that small, rare way of hers that made Orm’s stomach flutter.

“I will,” Ling said. “As long as you’re there to watch me play.”

Orm bit her bottom lip, trying to suppress the way her smile wanted to take over her whole face. She looked away, eyes scanning the field like it was the most interesting thing in the world. “Wouldn’t miss it,” she mumbled.

Ling heard her anyway. And she grinned, satisfied.

Another beat of silence settled between them, unhurried and warm. The golden hour stretched around them like a soft blanket, brushing everything it touched with honeyed light. The empty goalposts, the worn field, the glint of Ling’s water bottle catching the last of the sun.

Orm shifted slightly, almost like she wasn’t even thinking about it, and let her shoulder lean gently against Ling’s. It wasn’t a dramatic move. No declarations, no teasing quips. Just a quiet, deliberate kind of closeness. The kind that spoke more than words ever could.

It wasn’t full cuddling. It wasn’t possessive or showy. It was simple. Casual. Quiet. The kind of closeness that didn’t need words. Like she’d finally let herself rest against something solid. Ling didn’t move away. And that, somehow, meant everything.

Ling glanced at her, then gave a soft laugh. “I’m still sweaty. I smell.”

Orm shrugged, keeping her head where it was. “Not bad.”

Ling tilted her head. “You sure?”

“Yeah.” Orm nodded without looking at her. “Smells like… effort and sports.”

Ling chuckled, her voice low. “Wow. Sexy.”

Orm rolled her eyes but didn’t move. “Don’t push your luck.”

Ling laughed, that quiet kind of laugh that came more from the chest than the throat, low and warm. Orm did too, less sharp than usual, more genuine, the kind that made her eyes crinkle at the edges. 

If someone had told Orm a few months ago, back when Ling had just transferred to the school, that she’d end up here, laughing alongside the quiet, composed new girl who barely reacted to anything, she would’ve rolled her eyes. 

Back then, Ling had seemed like a mystery sealed shut, unreadable and untouchable. But now… now they laughed together. A lot had changed since then. And Orm had to admit, she really liked this side of Ling.

Slowly, the laughter tapered off. Not awkwardly, not abruptly. Just… settled, like sunlight slipping behind a cloud. They sat like that for a while, the calm between them stretching in that way it only does when two people are entirely comfortable. No need to fill the silence. No urge to rush the moment.

The air shifted, gentler somehow, like the space between them had folded in closer. Orm turned her head slightly, stealing a glance at Ling out of the corner of her eye.

“Hey,” she said softly, “Are you going to the fundraising night?”

Ling made a small noise in her throat, noncommittal. “I’m not sure. I don’t really like parties. Too many people. Too much small talk. And I don’t like wearing dresses.”

Orm nodded slowly, understanding. “You don’t have to wear a dress. Just wear something that’s you.”

Ling turned to look at her, then really looked. Her dark eyes curious, quiet. “Do you want me to come?”

That caught Orm off guard for half a second. Her breath caught, but she nodded. “Yeah. I do.”

Ling held her gaze for a moment, something unreadable flickering in her expression. Then she nodded, too. Quiet, certain.

“Then I’ll come.”

Orm’s smile broke free, and this time she didn’t fight it, she didn’t bother hiding it. Slowly, she let her head rest against Ling’s shoulder again, a little more deliberately now. Ling couldn’t see her face, but she could feel the grin in the weight of her.  

The quiet comfort. The unspoken closeness. She smiled too, soft and instinctive, and let her shoulder lean slightly into Orm’s in return.

They sat like that for a while, tucked in the golden hush of late afternoon, saying nothing as the sun dipped lower across the field, casting long shadows and softer edges. The silence between them wasn’t empty. It was full of things they hadn’t said yet, but maybe didn’t need to.

Then Ling said, voice low and teasing, “So… do you want me there because you need someone to hold your drink while you dance?”

Orm scoffed. “Idiot.” She shook her head, still smiling. “I’ll save a dance for you. Don’t be late.”

Ling let out a soft laugh, her eyes drifting back to the sky.

“I won’t.”

And for the first time all day, Orm felt completely still. Like the world had finally stopped spinning just long enough for her to catch her breath. No noise, no teasing voices in her head, no second-guessing. Just the quiet rhythm of Ling’s presence beside her, grounding her in a way nothing else could. 

She didn’t need to be clever or charming or guarded. 

In that moment, she was exactly where she was supposed to be.

Chapter Text

Lunch break spilled across the school cafeteria in its usual chaos. Plastic trays clattering, students chatting over half-eaten noodles, sunlight casting lazy stripes across the benches. Orm sat with Kate and Prig at their usual table, half-listening to the gossip and laughter while picking at her stir-fried basil rice. Her eyes kept drifting.

Across the cafeteria, Ling sat with her soccer teammates, all in their team jackets, their laughter louder, rowdier. Ling was in the middle of it, but not quite a part of it. Leaning back, arms crossed, nodding along, eyes crinkling now and then at a joke. But Orm noticed the way Ling’s attention flicked toward her too, even from that far.

Kate caught the glance and elbowed her. “Staring again?”

Orm didn’t look away. She smirked. “I’m just wondering if the star player over there still remembers she has a tutor.”

“She better,” Prig muttered. “You made us suffer through your entire planning board. Color-coded and everything.”

Orm laughed under her breath, brushing hair out of her face as she saw Ling rise from her table and excuse herself with a quick nod. She was heading toward the building.

Restroom.

Without thinking, Orm slid out of her seat.

“Where are you—”

“Stretch break,” Orm waved off her friends. “I’ll be back.”

She caught up just as Ling rounded the corner behind the main building, the quiet hallway cooler than the sun-drenched courtyard. Ling didn’t even flinch when Orm appeared beside her. She just smirked, as if expecting her.

“Hey,” Orm said, nudging her gently with her shoulder.

Ling’s smirk softened. “Hey to you too.”

They walked side by side, their steps unhurried.

“So,” Orm said casually, tucking her hands into her skirt pockets, “Tutoring session after school?”

Ling paused for half a second, barely, but it was enough. She let out a quiet sigh. “I want to, but I can’t. Coach extended practice today.”

Orm tried not to show her disappointment, but her mouth tugged slightly downward. “Oh. Alright. What about Saturday, then?”

Ling stopped walking, turning slightly to face her. “Orm... the tournament’s getting close. Coach wants us to practice every day. Even weekends.”

A pout formed on Orm’s lips before she could stop it. She looked away, pretending to study the posters on the wall. Every day? Seriously?

Ling noticed. Her chest tightened.

She hated this part, the part where her commitment to the team pulled her away from Orm. She didn’t want to keep saying no. Not when Orm looked at her like that. Not when she knew how rare these little windows of time were, and how much they both silently craved them.

“I know it sucks,” Ling said, softer now. “I want to see you too. I’ll try to squeeze in some time, maybe after evening practice or something. I just have to check the schedule first, okay?”

Orm turned back to her, eyes lifting. There was something small but hopeful in her smile. “Okay.”

Ling smiled too, a little lopsided, a little shy. “I mean, unless you want to come watch sweaty people run laps.”

Orm’s lips curled into a playful grin. “Only if one of them is you.”

That got Ling to laugh. A low, quiet sound that sent a warm ripple through Orm’s chest.

But underneath the teasing, something tugged at Orm, soft and uncertain. How are we supposed to have any time alone if we’re always going in opposite directions?

Still, she didn’t say it. Ling was already doing her best. And Orm? She would find a way to make it work too.

Even if it meant becoming a regular on the bleachers.

The days began to stretch.

Orm noticed it first in the way the shadows grew longer by the time she packed up her books, or in the shift of weight in her schoolbag, lighter now that there were no tutoring notes to carry. Ling’s soccer practice had taken over the late afternoons, and though they never said it aloud, the change carved out a quiet ache between them.

One Thursday afternoon, Orm found herself walking alone down the corridor toward her last class of the day. The hallway buzzed with students, laughter, and shoes squeaking against the floors. But she felt oddly out of sync. She passed the library doors and glanced inside, just for a second. Empty chairs. Sunlight catching on the spines of untouched books.

This would’ve been the time we were at the library, she thought, pretending to tutor but actually flirting.

She didn’t sulk about it, not really. She understood. But the absence of Ling beside her made everything feel a little more still. A little quieter. 

She still saw Ling in class, and they still shared quick conversations during lunch. But it wasn’t the same. Orm found herself wishing for more quiet moments, just the two of them, without the noise of school or the clock always ticking down.

So on days when she had no club meetings, no errands, no social plans, Orm packed her things and wandered toward the bleachers instead. Her shoes tapped against the edge of the field as the sun dipped low, gold spilling across the turf. The sound of the whistle cut through the air, followed by the pounding rhythm of feet.

There was Ling. Hair pulled back, jersey sticking to her back, focused and quick-footed. Even from the bleachers, Orm could see the way her brows knitted in concentration, the way she pushed herself with every lap.

And then there were the moments Ling would glance up, subtly, just once.

She always found Orm.

Orm waved when she noticed. Sometimes she held up a drink she’d bought from the vending machine, shaking it a little like an offering. Ling would grin mid-drill, then push herself harder. Orm started noticing it. How, during individual drills, Ling worked her sets quicker, how she ran her laps just a little faster than the rest. 

It wasn’t about competition.

It was about not making Orm wait too long.

Later that evening, as the team huddled on the field’s edge, Ling tossed her water bottle into her bag and stretched her arms back, her shirt damp with sweat. Mae, one of her teammates, nudged her with an elbow.

“Team dinner tonight?” Mae asked.

“Nah,” Ling said, already glancing toward the bleachers. “I’ve got plans.”

Mae followed her gaze. Orm was waiting by the railing, legs swinging slightly as she sat, phone in hand.

“Ohh,” Mae grinned. “Skipping out again? Soft for your girl, huh?”

Ling just shrugged, unbothered. A slow grin curled across her face. “Worth it.”

That made Orm glance up. She’d heard that. She bit her bottom lip to hide the smile threatening to break loose. But inside, she was a little giddy.

Ling jogged over to meet her, still slightly out of breath. “Sorry I took long. Coach added an extra round of sprint sets.”

“You looked like you were on fire out there,” Orm said, handing over the drink. “I almost stood up to cheer. Decided to preserve my dignity.”

Ling chuckled, taking a sip. “Appreciate that.”

They started walking. Orm’s steps slowed just a touch, allowing Ling to match her pace, even if it meant prolonging the walk. The sky turned a soft lavender, streaked with traces of orange.

“I was going to grab dinner with the team,” Ling said casually, nudging Orm’s hand with hers, “But someone waited for me.”

“Well,” Orm replied, bumping her back lightly, “Someone’s lucky I did.”

They exchanged a look, brief but warm, and the silence that followed was the comfortable kind. The kind that spoke of two people who didn’t need to fill space to feel close.

On weekends, their lives split even wider.

Ling was often up early, tying her laces as the sun barely cleared the horizon. The field was quieter then, cooler. The only sound was the thump of the ball, her own breath, and the steady beat of determination.

Meanwhile, Orm would still be in bed, one leg flopped over a pillow, scrolling through her phone.

Saturday morning. No plans.

At 10:32 a.m., Orm sent a text: “ Are you still at practice?”

Ling didn’t reply until 11:28. “ Sorry, I was on the field. On a short break now. What are you up to?”

Orm didn’t hesitate, she typed a reply. “ I’m bored. I’m lying upside down on my bed, it’s a thrilling life.” 

The messages kept coming, even after Ling had returned to the field to resume practice.

“Nong Goldie misses you.”

“ Watching some dumb series. Why does every male lead have the same haircut?” 

“If you don’t text me back in 10 minutes, I’m watching the next episode without you.”

“Fine. I lied. I already watched it.”

“Also, I’m hungry. Dying. I crave mango sticky rice.”

“ Now I want moo ping. And khanom krok. And boba tea. And ice cream. Possibly a soda. Yes, all at once. I’m a complex woman.”

“ Saw a video, it was funny. I’ll send you the link.”

“ These flowers are so pretty. They are called Lily of the Valley and Hydrangea.” 

“ Oh! These white and yellow roses are pretty too.”

And many more messages kept coming.

Ling read through the stream of messages when practice ended, hair still damp, shirt clinging to her back. She chuckled softly, her heart warmed by every random, chaotic text.

She didn’t respond right away. Instead, she slung her bag over her shoulder, headed off the field, rushed to shower, changed into clean clothes, and made her way to the nearby market.

By 17:00, Orm’s phone buzzed.

Come down. I’m outside.

Orm blinked at the message, startled, then rushed to her window. And sure enough, there was Ling, standing at the gate, a plastic bag in one hand, a bouquet of white and yellow roses in the other, her hair slightly damp from practice, her cheeks still a little flushed, and a quiet smile resting on her lips.

Orm’s heart did an involuntary flip. She padded downstairs barefoot and in pajamas, flinging the door open and stepping out into the evening warmth.

Ling handed her the bag first.

“I couldn’t find the exact khanom krok you like,” she said, her tone apologetic but gentle, “But I got the stall with the crispy edges. And I might’ve bought two of everything else. Just in case.”

Orm stared at her for a beat, something soft and warm blooming in her chest, stretching all the way up to her throat.

“Didn’t expect you’d go all out for me,” she said, a teasing smirk curling on her lips. “I’m truly impressed.”

“Good,” Ling replied softly, her voice calm but sure, like she’d never once doubted it was worth it.

Then, she held out the bouquet.

“Here. I only got the roses today. They didn’t have Hydrangeas or Lily of the Valley, those need a special order.”

Orm took them slowly, fingers brushing Ling’s, her breath catching at the subtle scent of the petals and the fact that Ling remembered those tiny, throwaway flower facts from her random message earlier.

“You know you didn’t have to do all this,” she whispered, eyes searching Ling’s face. “And aren’t you allergic to pollen?”

“I wanted to.” Ling’s smile deepened, lopsided and soft. “And yes, I am. But it’s fine, I can manage.”

Orm couldn’t hold back her grin this time. She nudged Ling’s arm with hers, playfully but gently, like she was afraid of breaking the moment.

“You’re making it really hard for me to pretend I’m not totally into you, you know.”

Ling gave a soft laugh, dipping her head just a little. “Good.”

They stood like that for a second longer, letting the world slow down. The street was quiet, the kind of quiet only weekends carried, unrushed, weightless. The plastic bags rustled in Orm’s hand. The roses were pressed lightly against her side.

And the space between them was filled not by dramatic declarations, but by quiet effort. Ling, probably exhausted from hours of practice, still showed up just to hand Orm her favorite snacks. Orm, bare-faced and sleepy-eyed, smiling like her heart had been waiting all day for this.

After a moment, Orm turned and gestured toward the porch steps.

“Come on, let’s sit. You have to help me eat all of this.”

They settled beside each other on the steps, their knees brushing occasionally as they dug into grilled pork skewers and sticky rice, saying very little. The air smelled faintly of jasmine and charcoal, and Orm’s heart refused to stop fluttering.

Halfway through a mouthful, Orm leaned her head gently against Ling’s shoulder. It wasn’t playful this time. It was soft, sleepy, a little vulnerable.

“I missed you,” she said quietly, eyes watching the edge of the driveway.

Ling, already chewing, paused for a second before swallowing. Then she smirked. “You did text me like seventeen times.”

Orm scoffed, nudging her lightly. “Not the same.”

Ling turned her head, resting her cheek lightly against the top of Orm’s head. Her voice, this time, was quiet, tender.

“I missed you too.”

And under the porch light, with warm food in their laps and the smell of roses between them, Orm closed her eyes for just a moment.

This.

This was enough.

Chapter Text

The night of the school’s annual fundraising gala arrived with glimmering fairy lights strung across the courtyard and a sea of students dressed to impress. The usually mundane school grounds had transformed into something out of a movie. Round tables with white linens, trays of hors d'oeuvres, soft jazz playing over the speakers.

Ling adjusted the cuffs of her black tailored suit as she arrived a few minutes early. The satin lapel caught the soft glow of the garden lights. Her hair was slicked back in a way that made her already sharp features even more striking, and she’d traded her usual school sneakers for polished black loafers. She felt a little self-conscious in the suit at first, but Ying had grinned when she saw her.

“You look like someone’s mysterious CEO girlfriend,” Ying teased.

Ling had only shrugged. “Or just... someone’s girlfriend.”

She didn’t expect the air to knock out of her lungs when Orm arrived.

A hush fell over Ling’s thoughts as she caught sight of her across the garden. Orm stepped out of the car like a scene in slow motion, her dress a soft champagne gold that shimmered under the lights, fitted just right at the waist and flowing down in elegant waves. Her hair was pinned up loosely, a few tendrils falling to frame her face, and her lips were painted in the faintest coral.

Ling’s jaw slackened slightly. Her fingers stilled around the champagne glass in her hand.

Orm caught the look instantly, and her lips curled into a smirk as she approached. “Careful, Kwong,” she murmured, tilting her head, “You’re staring like you’ve never seen a girl in a dress before.”

Ling blinked, closing her mouth as her ears warmed. “I haven’t seen you in one,” she mumbled. “Not like that.”

Orm laughed quietly, utterly pleased. “Guess I should wear stunning dresses more often if this is the reaction I get.”

Ling didn’t respond. She was too busy memorizing the image.

They strolled into the crowd together, side by side but not touching, keeping things casual for the sake of appearances. But it didn’t stop the whispers, nor the admiring glances Orm was drawing from almost everyone they passed.

“Orm, you look like a movie star tonight,” one of the older teachers said warmly.

Another student nudged his friend and said loudly, “Ten bucks she wins best dressed.”

Orm smiled graciously, murmuring thanks, but her gaze kept flicking sideways… to Ling. Because while she was used to compliments, the one that mattered most was the quiet, steady one Ling gave without saying a word.

And Ling? She was absolutely glowing inside. Every time someone complimented Orm, Ling’s chest swelled a little more. She didn’t say much, but her glances said enough.

That’s my girl.

They stopped briefly at the drinks table, where Orm picked up a glass of something bubbly. A student from another year, a senior, clearly trying to charm, sidled up next to her.

“Didn’t know a princess attended this school,” she said, offering a wink. “Do you want to dance?”

Orm blinked, taken off guard, then opened her mouth to answer, but—

Ling was already there.

Smooth and silent, Ling stepped in, her hand settling gently on the small of Orm’s back, fingers curling lightly through the fabric of her dress. She leaned in just a little, her voice low and cool but polite. 

“She’s with me.”

The senior blinked. “Oh. Is that so? I didn’t know.”

“You do now.” Ling smiled, not unkind, but firm.

The senior met Ling’s gaze head-on, but Ling didn’t flinch. Her smile remained steady, hand resting with quiet confidence against Orm’s lower back. For a moment, it felt like a silent standoff, an unspoken challenge hanging in the air. Then, with a subtle scoff and a shrug, the senior broke eye contact and walked away without another word.

Orm turned to Ling, brow raised. “Wow. Possessive much?”

Ling looked entirely unapologetic. “You didn’t seem to mind.”

“I didn’t,” Orm replied, smirking. “Just didn’t know you had it in you.”

Ling’s hand lingered at the small of her back a moment longer before letting go. “You’re wearing a dress like that, and I’m supposed to just watch people line up to flirt with you?”

Orm sipped her drink, trying and failing to suppress the smug little smile creeping up her face.  “Okay. You’re allowed to be possessive... maybe just a little.”

“Noted,” Ling said dryly, though the pink in her ears betrayed her.

And with that, they returned to mingling. Though now, with a little less space between them, and a shared secret smile that neither of them tried to hide.

The night had mellowed into a golden haze of laughter, quiet music, and the occasional clinking of glasses. People were now gathered more loosely. Some in conversation, others swaying gently under the twinkle of the string lights.

Ling spotted the subtle shift in the mood, the way the playlist had transitioned into slower, more romantic tunes. She glanced around, then back to Orm, who was sipping her second glass of champagne and watching the dance floor with an amused look in her eyes.

Ling hesitated, then cleared her throat softly. “Orm?”

Orm turned to her, curious. “Hmm?”

“Do you want to dance?”

The question was simple, but Ling’s heart thudded against her ribs the moment she asked. She wasn’t good at this. Dancing, romance, asking someone for a dance under fairy lights, like it was out of a movie. But still, she asked. Because it was Orm .

Orm blinked once, then her lips curled into a slow, delighted smile. “Took you long enough.”

Ling rolled her eyes lightly, but her smirk tugged at the corner of her lips. “Just one dance. Before someone else beats me to it.”

Orm tilted her head, mock-considering. “Well, since you asked so nicely…”

She set her glass down and slipped her hand into Ling’s.

The moment their fingers touched, Ling’s nerves jolted to life. Her palms were slightly clammy, but she tried not to show it. She guided Orm to the edge of the dance floor, where other couples were already swaying in a slow rhythm under the glow of warm lights.

They stepped in close. Orm’s arms lifted to rest gently on Ling’s shoulders, her fingers brushing the edge of Ling’s collar. Ling’s hands found her waist, steadying her lightly.

For a second, neither of them moved. Ling was too focused on making sure she didn’t step on Orm’s feet. She took a quiet breath, counting in her head, easing into the gentle tempo.

And then they started moving. Slow, careful steps in time with the music. Ling wasn’t perfect, but she wasn’t bad either. It helped that Orm matched her pace, letting her lead.

Orm’s brows lifted slightly in surprise, a teasing lilt to her voice. “Well, well. So you can dance.”

Ling looked at her, smirking despite herself. “I can do a lot of things… if it’s with you.”

Orm’s heart skipped, just once, but it was enough to make her cheeks flush and her smirk falter into something softer. “God, that was smooth. Who are you, and what have you done to Lingling Kwong?”

Ling’s laugh came out quieter than expected, almost shy. “Still awkward. Just… faking confidence because you make it worth it.”

Orm looked at her, touched. She didn’t say anything for a beat. Just swayed with her, eyes tracing the soft focus in Ling’s features, the way her eyes kept flicking from Orm’s to her lips, the tension in her shoulders slowly melting the longer they danced.

“You’re full of surprises tonight,” Orm murmured.

“You haven’t seen the half of it,” Ling replied, though the way she swallowed afterward betrayed her nerves.

Orm leaned in slightly, her voice near Ling’s ear. “Don’t tempt me, Kwong.”

Ling blinked, then chuckled under her breath. “Wasn’t trying to… but noted.”

They kept dancing, neither rushing to end the moment. Ling's grip remained gentle at Orm’s waist, steady like she didn’t want to let go just yet. Orm’s thumb brushed softly along Ling’s collarbone, pretending not to notice how Ling’s breath hitched slightly.

There was music, and there were people around. But to both of them, the world had narrowed into just the two of them, swaying in a quiet pocket of warmth and flickering lights.

As the song faded out and another picked up behind them, Ling leaned in a little. “Want to get some air?”

Orm raised a brow. “Was my dancing that bad?”

Ling smirked. “I’m just scared I’ll step on your foot if I stay any longer.”

Orm let out a soft laugh, looping her arm through Ling’s. “Well, in that case, by all means, escort me somewhere safer, Ms. Kwong.”

Ling didn’t even try to argue. She liked the sound of it too much.

They slipped away from the crowd unnoticed, navigating through a side door that led to a quiet garden courtyard outside the venue. The string lights followed them partway, fading into shadows as they found a wooden bench tucked beneath a blooming tree, soft petals scattered across the path like confetti.

Orm let out a quiet breath and sat down, the moonlight catching the shimmer of her dress just right. Ling stood for a second, just looking at her. Then, without a word, she slipped off her blazer and gently draped it over Orm’s shoulders.

“Won’t you be cold?” Orm asked, fingers brushing the lapel.

Ling shrugged, sitting beside her. “You looked colder.”

Orm accepted it with a quiet smile, pulling it over her bare arms before sinking down beside her. Their shoulders touched. Ling’s fingers brushed lightly against the back of Orm’s hand, and slowly, Orm let hers fall into place, fitting so naturally between Ling’s.

“I think they will announce the winner for best dress soon,” Ling said softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Orm shook her head almost immediately, leaning her head against Ling’s shoulder. “Mhm, let them. I want to stay like this.”

Ling smiled, tilting her head just slightly to rest it against Orm’s. “You sure? I thought you didn’t want to miss it.”

Orm turned her head slightly, her smirk returning. “I know you think I’m gonna win.”

Ling let out a teasing hum. “Hmm, maybe.”

Orm sat up, narrowing her eyes. “Are you thinking of someone else, Lingling Kwong?” she leaned closer, tone mock-dangerous. “Don’t you dare.”

Ling blinked, caught between amusement and panic. “Huh?” she chuckled nervously, scratching the back of her neck. “Okay, yes, you’re going to win. For sure.”

Orm crossed her arms with a dramatic huff. “Good. You’re not allowed to think about anyone but me.”

Ling smirked, leaning in just slightly. “Oh? Possessive, are we?”

Orm didn’t back down. She turned to face her fully, eyes glinting under the soft glow of the lights. “Let me make this clear.” She scooted closer, lifting a hand to gently tap Ling’s chest. “You. Are. My. Girlfriend. Mine.”

Ling froze for a heartbeat. She blinked, clearly caught off guard for a second. Then her lips curled into a slow, warm grin. “Girlfriend, huh?”

Orm arched a brow. “You heard me.”

“I like the sound of that,” Ling said, her voice dropping to something softer, something more sincere.

Orm bit her bottom lip, trying not to grin too widely. “Good.” She exhaled and rested her head back on Ling’s shoulder. “But I still want a proper confession. I want you to ask me to be your girlfriend.”

Ling huffed a quiet laugh. “Proper confession, hm?”

Orm nodded. “Yes, with effort. Maybe flowers.”

Ling let out a soft chuckle, wrapping an arm around her. “Got it,” she whispered, pressing a kiss to the top of Orm’s head. “Soon. With flowers.”

Orm smiled quietly into her shoulder, her heart thudding just a little faster. “It better be.”

Ling didn’t move, except to tilt her head slightly so it rested lightly on top of Orm’s. They stayed like that for a while, the party noise muffled behind the walls, the stars blinking quietly above them, and a comfortable silence wrapping around their little world.

After a moment of quiet under the night sky, Orm tilted her head toward Ling and murmured, “Let’s go back to your place?”

Ling looked at her. “You wanna stay over?”

Orm gave a small nod, nonchalant. “Yeah.”

Ling didn’t hesitate. “Okay.”

But just as Orm shifted to stand, Ling’s brows pinched slightly as she noticed the subtle wince in Orm’s face. The way her foot arched just so, the slight stiffness in her movement. Without a word, Ling dropped to a knee in front of her.

Orm blinked, startled. “What are you doing?”

Ling didn’t look up. Her fingers were already unbuckling the strap of one heel. “You don’t look comfortable wearing them.”

Orm raised a brow. “Ling, seriously?”

“I’m serious too,” Ling said simply, slipping the shoe off with care, as if she were handling something delicate. She moved on to the second foot. “Why would you even wear this?”

Orm rolled her eyes but couldn’t stop the soft laugh that slipped out. “Beauty is pain.”

Ling smirked, shaking her head. “Stubborn.”

Orm watched her in silence for a moment, her heart unexpectedly clenching. Ling wasn’t being showy or dramatic. She didn’t make some grand gesture. She just… noticed. Took action. Took care of her. And did it like it was second nature.

No one’s ever done that before, Orm thought. Not like this.

When Ling stood up again, she looked around as if calculating something. Her gaze landed on Orm’s gown, and after a beat, she sighed. “Okay, so I can’t give you a piggyback like I was about to.”

Orm raised a suspicious brow. “You were about to what ?”

Ling ignored the question. Instead, she stepped out of her own shoes, one by one, and knelt down again, but this time, not to remove anything. To offer . She gently slid her own shoes onto Orm’s feet. “There you go, you’ll walk easier.”

Orm blinked, caught off guard. “Ling, what about you?”

Ling stood and reached out her hand. “I can manage.”

Orm stared at her, barefooted in a sharp suit, one hand holding her discarded heels, the other extended toward her, patiently waiting. She hesitated for a second, her chest tightening in a way that was all too tender.

This girl.

She slipped her fingers into Ling’s palm, the warmth there grounding. “You’re ridiculous,” Orm muttered.

Ling grinned. “I know.”

They walked toward the car, hand in hand. Orm in Ling’s shoes, Ling barefoot on the pavement, heels dangling from one hand like trophies. To anyone passing by, it would’ve looked odd. Elegant chaos, maybe. But to Orm, it felt perfect.

Once inside the car, Ling placed the heels down on the mat, under the seat.

Orm leaned forward. “Can you drop us off at Ling’s place, please?”

The driver nodded, and Orm settled back into the seat, sneaking a glance at Ling beside her.

Ling wasn’t saying much, but her hand never let go of Orm’s. Her thumb brushed lightly across Orm’s knuckles, absentminded but steady. It made Orm smile to herself.

That night, they stayed at Ling’s place. They didn’t need to talk much. Just soft laughter, a shared blanket, and quiet comfort.

And somewhere between the brushing of teeth and the eventual tug of tiredness, Orm thought to herself:

I’ve never felt so seen… and so safe.

Chapter Text

Sunlight streamed gently through the curtains, painting golden streaks across the pale bedsheets. The apartment was quiet, still laced with the softness of early morning. Orm stirred and blinked slowly, a yawn catching in her throat as she turned to the side…… And frowned.

The space beside her was empty. Ling’s pillow was slightly dented, but cold now. Orm sat up, the blanket slipping down her shoulder. She rubbed her eyes and took a moment to gather her thoughts. Last night, the walk, the touch of Ling’s hand in hers, the way they had fallen asleep with only a shared glance and unspoken understanding.

But now, Ling was nowhere to be found.

Orm pushed herself out of bed, her bare feet cold against the wooden floor as she padded softly through the apartment. She checked the kitchen. The living room. Even the little balcony outside. 

No Ling.

Her frown deepened. She reached for her phone on the kitchen counter, ready to call. But before she could dial, the front door clicked open.

Ling stepped inside with a casual, “Morning.”

Orm crossed her arms and pouted. “Where were you?”

Ling blinked, then gave a crooked smile and raised a hand holding a paper bag. “Went out to get these for you.”

Orm narrowed her eyes at her but accepted the bag anyway. The warmth of it seeped through the paper. She inhaled, the smell of buttery croissants and freshly baked bread hitting her senses. “Hmm. Smells good. You’re lucky.”

Ling’s smile softened further, but then she shifted her stance awkwardly. “Actually... I got something else too. And something to say.”

Before Orm could ask, Ling stepped forward and pulled out her other hand from behind her back.

A bouquet.

Orm’s breath caught.

Hydrangeas in soft blues and pinks, delicately intertwined with Lily of the Valley. The same flowers Orm had rambled about once, just once, on her random text during a boring weekend, thinking about how hard they were to find and how she used to think they were fairytale flowers. She never thought Ling would even take it seriously.

But here they were. In Ling’s hands.

Orm looked up, stunned.

Ling scratched the back of her neck with her free hand. “I, uh… I know this probably isn’t the most romantic thing, not the fireworks and violins kind of moment. But I wanted it to be something that’s... us.”

She paused, eyes locked on Orm’s.

“I’ve never been good at this. Feelings. Labels. But I’ve been sure of you for a while now.” Her voice was low, almost shy. “And I’m still learning how to show it. But I want to try. With you.”

Orm swallowed, her chest warm and full. Ling held out the bouquet now, a bit more boldly.

“And… I know it’s not exactly candlelight and roses, but…” Ling exhaled, her eyes soft. “Orm Kornnaphat, will you be my girlfriend?”

Orm stared. Her mouth parted in surprise.

Ling, holding a bouquet of hard-to-find flowers. Ling, standing barefoot in sweatpants and a hoodie over last night’s shirt. Ling, who had disappeared only to come back with breakfast and a bouquet, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

A laugh bubbled out of Orm’s throat. Light, genuine. “Of course I will.” Her smile turned teasing. “But took you long enough, Kwong.”

Ling smirked, relief evident in the way her shoulders eased. “Hey, I had to get the flowers first.”

Orm set the pastries aside and closed the distance between them, slipping her hands into the lapels of Ling’s shirt. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

“Lucky’s one word for it,” Ling murmured, eyes dipping to her lips just before Orm kissed her.

The kiss was slow, unhurried. A promise, more than anything. And when Orm finally pulled back, she grinned, brushing her nose lightly against Ling’s.

“Finally,” she whispered. “Now I don’t have to pretend we’re just friends in front of your team.”

Ling rested her hands on Orm’s waist and replied casually, “They already knew.”

Orm pulled back slightly, blinking. “…Seriously?”

Ling nodded, completely unbothered. “Mae calls you my girlfriend all the time.”

Orm narrowed her eyes. “And you didn’t correct her?”

Ling tilted her head, smug. “Why would I?”

Orm rolled her eyes, laughing. “You’re impossible.”

Ling leaned in, kissing her again, softer this time. “I’m yours, teerak.”

Teerak.

The word echoed in Orm’s mind, soft and sweet. She liked the way it sounded coming from Ling’s mouth… too much, maybe. And all she wanted was to hear it again, and again, and again. And she knew she wouldn’t get tired of hearing it.

The sunlight caught the edge of the bouquet on the counter. Nearby, a little box with two matching Goldie keychains rested beside the pastries. It wasn’t grand. It wasn’t staged. But it was real. Intimate. The kind of moment Orm would remember longer than any choreographed scene.

And she wouldn’t have it any other way.

The morning light filtered through the sheer curtains, casting a soft golden hue across Ling’s apartment. The air was still cool with early sun, but the living room radiated a quiet warmth. A half-watched movie played in the background, its dialogue muffled under the faint rustle of blankets and lazy laughter.

Orm was nestled in Ling’s hoodie… well, one of many at this point. The scent of Ling wrapped around her like a second skin. Her legs were tucked beneath her as she sat sideways on the couch, her head resting comfortably on Ling’s thigh while the rest of her sprawled lazily.

Ling, perched behind her with one arm over the back of the couch, let her eyes trail over the scene. Crumbs on the coffee table, two mugs of half-finished tea, the soft rise and fall of Orm’s shoulders beneath her hoodie.

She smirked. “By next week, I’ll be running out of hoodies, I think.”

Orm lifted her head slightly, eyebrow raised. “How so?”

Ling gave her a look. “You steal all of them.”

Orm broke into a laugh, light and open, throwing her head back as she collapsed against Ling’s chest. “Can’t help it,” she said between giggles, “I like my girlfriend’s scent.”

My girlfriend.

The words slipped out so naturally from Orm’s mouth that it caught Ling off guard. No teasing. No hesitation. Just warmth and certainty.

Ling felt something in her chest flutter, a little tug behind her ribs she couldn’t quite name. She looked down at Orm, who was now grinning without a care in the world, and tried to fight the smile rising on her face, but it was useless. She liked hearing it. Maybe a little too much.

“I like the sound of that,” Ling murmured, fingers brushing through Orm’s messy hair.

Orm tilted her head to look up at her, smug. “I think I’ll say it a lot.”

“Good,” Ling said softly. “I think I’ll let you.”

They shifted after a while, Orm eventually making her way to sit between Ling’s legs, her back against Ling’s chest, both of them wrapped in a fuzzy blanket. Ling reached over to the table, picked up the last bit of croissant, and held it in front of Orm’s mouth.

“You’re really milking this ‘new girlfriend’ thing, hm?” she teased, holding back a grin.

Orm didn’t even flinch, her cheek puffed with pastry as she spoke with a half-full mouth, “I’ve waited long enough. I deserve this.”

Ling chuckled, pressing a kiss to Orm’s cheek, then another one, and another, planting a playful row of kisses until Orm squirmed.

“Good thing,” Ling murmured close to her ear, “I like spoiling you.”

Orm giggled and turned her head slightly to look at her. “Good thing indeed.”

Their fingers laced loosely across Orm’s stomach, the world outside fading under the steady rhythm of their breathing and the soft background hum of the movie. No rush. No pressure. Just this… warm limbs tangled on a couch, full hearts and half-eaten pastries, and the quiet beginning of something real.

The movie rolled on in the background, but neither of them was really watching it anymore. Orm had long since stopped pretending to care about sitting properly on the couch. One moment, she was curled against Ling’s chest. And next, she threw her legs over Ling’s lap, then shifted again to lean her head on Ling’s shoulder, blanket dragging behind her with every move.

Ling didn’t protest, not even once.

For someone so private, so notoriously guarded about her space, Ling surprised even herself. Normally, the idea of anyone invading her personal bubble for more than a few seconds would’ve driven her up the wall. But with Orm? It felt natural. Like she had been made to fit there, tangled up in Ling’s limbs and warmth.

Orm eventually settled sideways in Ling’s lap, back to her chest, arms loosely wrapped around her own waist like she was claiming her. Her head lolled back onto Ling’s shoulder with a satisfied sigh, her eyes fluttering half-closed as if she could fall asleep right then and there.

“You comfortable now?” Ling murmured against her temple, brushing strands of hair away. “You couldn’t stop moving for the past ten minutes.”

Orm hummed, lazy and pleased. “Mmhmm. Very.” Then, with a teasing smile, she added, “If you think I’m clingy now, wait until you see me when I’m sleepy.”

Ling let out a quiet laugh, the sound vibrating against Orm’s back as she rested her chin on her shoulder. “That’s a threat I’m willing to take.”

A silence fell between them, but it wasn’t heavy. It was the kind that settled like a favorite blanket, familiar, safe. Ling glanced down and noticed a flake of croissant near the corner of Orm’s lips. With a faint smile, she reached up and brushed it away with her thumb, slow and gentle.

“You’re messy,” she murmured.

Orm looked up, about to say something, but the words faded the moment Ling leaned in and kissed her.

It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t wild. It was the kind of kiss that tasted like warm pastry and still morning air, the kind that whispered, Stay. Just stay here a little longer. Ling’s hand rested at Orm’s jaw, thumb grazing her cheek as their mouths moved in a slow, unhurried rhythm.

When they parted, Orm’s lips were flushed, her smile lazy and satisfied. She leaned back slightly to meet Ling’s eyes, thumb idly drawing small circles against the back of her hand.

“Are you always this soft on the weekends?” she asked, voice teasing but laced with affection.

“Only for you,” Ling replied quietly.

Ling’s lips lingered on Orm’s, then trailed a soft kiss to her temple. She let her hand settle at the curve of Orm’s waist, fingertips lightly drawing shapes over the fabric of her hoodie.

Another stretch of silence passed, not awkward, but thoughtful. The kind that invites honesty, that makes hearts feel braver than usual. Orm shifted just slightly, pressing her cheek to Ling’s collarbone, her arms wrapping more snugly around her waist like she didn’t want her to move.

“Did you tell your parents you’re staying over at mine?” Ling asked, voice low and tender against Orm’s skin.

Orm blinked slowly, still nestled into the warmth of Ling’s lap. “They’re overseas,” she replied simply.

Ling nodded, not thinking much of it at first. “I see.”

But then she felt it. A subtle shift in Orm’s posture, something in the way her shoulders softened, not in relaxation but in resignation. Ling noticed. She always did, even the smallest changes, especially when it came to Orm.

“What’s wrong, teerak ?” she asked, voice barely above a whisper, as if trying not to scare the truth away.

There was a pause. Orm didn’t answer immediately. Her fingers fidgeted with the hem of the oversized hoodie she wore, Ling’s hoodie, and her gaze fell to the little crumb left on her thigh. She brushed it off. A delay tactic.

Ling didn’t push. She just waited, holding her gently, like she always did… patient, steady.

Orm finally sighed and tucked her face into the curve of Ling’s neck, breathing her in like she needed the scent to speak.

“My parents… they’re cool,” she started, her voice muffled against Ling’s skin. “Very loving. Always spoil me.”

Ling hummed softly in response, arms tightening ever so slightly around her.

“But they’re always overseas,” Orm continued, her voice quieter now. “Business, charity, whatever. They’re barely ever here.”

Ling stayed quiet, letting the words fall in their own time.

Orm pressed her cheek to Ling’s shoulder, eyes open but unfocused. “Sometimes it feels like… I live in a beautiful house filled with gifts and messages, but not people. Not them. Just staff. I’m used to it, I guess. I’ve never really minded… until I met you.”

Ling’s heart ached at that. Her brows pulled together slightly, her hand rubbing slow circles along Orm’s back now. She held Orm a little closer, grounding her, anchoring her. “That sounds lonely,” she said quietly.

Orm gave a small nod and tucked herself deeper into the space between Ling’s neck and shoulder. “It is, sometimes,” she added with a small, almost shy laugh, “And now, just sitting here like this with you, it makes me realize how much I’ve missed this kind of warmth. Someone present. Someone who stays.”

Ling’s throat tightened, but she smiled anyway, gentle and quiet. “You have me now,” she kissed the top of Orm’s head with such gentle certainty it almost made Orm cry. “I’m here,” she added, her lips brushing against Orm’s hair. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

That did it. Orm blinked fast, her eyes stinging. Just a little. It wasn’t much, not dramatic, but the weight of being seen, being understood, slipped under her skin and cracked something open in the softest way.

She gave a watery laugh, pressing a kiss to Ling’s jaw, then another to the corner of her mouth. “God, you’re going to make me cry.”

Ling smiled against her lips, kissing her back. Slow and sure. Then pulled her in tighter.

And Orm let her. She melted into the embrace, letting herself be held, feeling every steady breath against her back. It grounded her. Reminded her that Ling was there. That she was real.

That this… they were real.

And in that little apartment, with the low hum of a forgotten movie playing behind them and the sun pouring through the curtains, Orm held on just a little tighter.

Chapter Text

The soccer tournament had finally arrived. Ling and her team didn’t show up at school that day. They were granted a day off to prep for their first match later in the late afternoon. Orm had seriously considered ditching school too, just to be dramatic about it. But Ling had insisted she go, telling her not to skip class just for her. So, Orm listened. Reluctantly. And still, a school day without Ling felt unusually dull.

The morning sun filtered into the classroom, casting a golden haze across the white-tiled floor. Orm leaned her chin against her palm, phone tucked just out of the teacher’s sight. She was trying to focus on the lesson, really, but her thoughts kept drifting to someone who wasn’t there.

She unlocked her phone and typed quickly under the desk:

Orm: Ugh, how dare you make me miss you like this? Stop being so missable. It’s annoying.

The reply came faster than she expected.

My Idiot❤️: Cute. Miss you too, teerak. I’m with the team already, gonna do some light exercise. You’ll be here later, right?

A grin spread across Orm’s face, impossible to contain. Her heart did this tiny flutter thing it had been doing a lot lately, ever since she officially became Ling’s girlfriend. She didn’t even fight it anymore. With a small giggle, she typed back:

Orm: Wouldn’t miss it, babe.

“Teerak, huh?” came a teasing voice to her left.

Orm nearly dropped her phone as she turned to glare at Kate, who was very obviously leaning toward her desk, eyes squinting at her screen.

Kate grinned. “Didn’t mean to snoop… well, maybe a little. But girl, My Idiot ?”

Orm huffed. “Yeah, what about that?”

Kate raised an eyebrow. “Still can’t believe you’re taken now. Like, officially-official.”

Prig laughed. “That’s pretty crazy to me.”

Kate nodded, smirking. “Yeah. We all know you never really wanted to date; you only like the flirting.”

Orm rolled her eyes, though her lips betrayed her with a smug little smile. “Shut up. Ling is different, okay?”

Kate exchanged a look with Prig. “Different how?”

Before Orm could answer, Prig leaned forward over the desk and smirked. “Different as in… super hot and good at everything? I mean, she’s probably doing push-ups right now while planning your future wedding in her head.”

Orm snorted, but her ears flushed. “She’s not that intense.”

Bam, from the next row over, turned in her seat. “She kind of is. But in a hot way. And honestly? I respect it.”

Prig nodded sagely. “And she puts up with your full-time brat behavior. That alone makes her elite,” she sighed dramatically and continued. “Ugh, where can I find my own Lingling Kwong?”

Orm narrowed her eyes. “You don’t. There’s only one Lingling Kwong, and she’s mine.”

That earned a chorus of dramatic groans and fake swoons from her friends, but Orm just sat back in her chair, arms crossed and smug satisfaction written all over her face. Her phone buzzed again with another message from Ling.

My Idiot❤️: I’ll look for you in the stands after every goal. So don’t be late, princess.

Orm's heart did that flutter again. She typed back:

Orm: Better score a lot, then.

The stadium buzzed with energy, the sun high above and the bleachers filled with students shouting school chants. Orm sat front and center, her legs bouncing in anticipation. Her eyes scanned the field, searching and finding Ling, already in her red jersey with her team’s emblem, tying her hair back with practiced ease. Focused. Calm. Deadly on the field.

The whistle blew. The game began.

It didn’t take long for Ling to dominate. Her movements were sharp and precise, weaving between defenders like it was second nature. She scored the first goal within the first ten minutes, and the crowd roared. Orm shot up from her seat with a cheer, clapping wildly. Ling’s gaze immediately sought her out in the crowd, like she always did, and smiled.

A smile meant only for her.

By halftime, Ling had already scored three goals. A hat-trick. Orm was half-dazed with pride, and her heart swelled with it. She couldn’t sit still. The way Ling moved, confident and effortless, had all eyes on her… including, unfortunately, the cheer captain Kao, who walked over during a break with a water bottle in hand.

Orm narrowed her eyes from the stands. Of course, Kao would take this chance.

Ling accepted the bottle, nodding politely. But even then, as she tilted her head back to drink, her eyes flicked back toward the bleachers. Toward Orm.

Orm squinted her eyes, clearly not pleased. But it didn’t last long, because the second half flew by in a blur of adrenaline. Ling didn’t score again, but her assists were clean, her defense fierce, and when the final whistle blew, they’d secured the win with a 4–1 score.

Before anyone could stop her, Orm was off the bleachers and sprinting toward the field, dodging through students and players alike. Her heart pounded, not from running, but from sheer joy.

Ling saw her first. She lit up instantly and broke into a run of her own.

They met near the center of the field. Ling caught Orm effortlessly in her arms, lifting her off the ground and spinning her once, twice, before finally setting her down again.

Orm laughed breathlessly, her arms looped tightly around Ling’s neck, not even caring about the sweat. “You were incredible,” she said against Ling’s ear.

Ling pulled back just enough to look at her, eyes shining. “I told you I’d win it for you.”

Orm leaned in, kissed her cheek, and murmured, “I know.”

Even if Ling didn’t win, it wouldn’t matter. Not to Orm. Because standing here, wrapped in Ling’s arms with the cheers still echoing around them, this felt like winning already.

The second match of the tournament landed on a Saturday, which meant Orm didn’t have to sit through school wishing she could fast-forward time. Instead, she had the luxury of showing up early to see Ling before the match even started. And being Orm Kornnaphat came with privileges, like being able to stroll straight into the locker room without anyone daring to kick her out.

The moment she stepped inside, her eyes found Ling, seated on the bench, head slightly bowed, lacing up her cleats with a quiet focus. She was all business: that serious face, the furrowed brows, the calm but intense energy. Orm paused by the door, admiring her for a second longer than necessary.

There was something kind of hot about seeing Ling like this. The quiet determination. The way she moved with intention, already locked into the game before it even began. Orm cleared her throat, loud enough to break the moment.

Ling’s head lifted immediately. When her eyes found Orm, the transformation was instant. Focus melted into warmth, and a smile curved her lips.

“Hey, baby,” Ling greeted, voice soft but steady.

Orm grinned, making her way to her girlfriend. “Look at you. So intense.” She reached out to fix the edge of Ling’s jersey, brushing imaginary dust from her shoulder like she was prepping her for battle. “You look like you're about to go fight a war, not kick a ball around.”

Ling chuckled. “Well, I am fighting. For the trophy. For you.”

Orm rolled her eyes, but her heart didn’t miss a beat. “Idiot.”

Ling replied, still smiling. “But you love it.”

“I do,” Orm smirked as she handed Ling a bottle of water. “Here. From now on, you’re only allowed to take bottles from me, got it?”

Ling blinked, then chuckled, accepting the bottle. “Yes, Captain. Loud and clear.”

Before Orm could come up with a retort, the coach’s voice rang from the hallway. “Five minutes, girls!”

Orm took a step back, smoothing her jeans. “Go win the game,” she said, quieter now, the tease fading into something more genuine.

As she turned to leave, Ling reached out and caught her hand.

“Wait.”

Orm paused, head tilting. “Hm?”

Ling stood and stepped in closer, fingers tightening just a little around Orm’s. “My good luck kiss,” she murmured, eyes searching hers. For all the confidence she wore like a second skin, there was the faintest flicker of nerves in her voice now, so subtle most wouldn’t catch it. But Orm did. She always did.

Orm's teasing smile softened into something tender. “Come here,” she whispered.

And then she kissed her. Gentle, unhurried, as if it was a promise and a shield all in one.

When they pulled away, Ling exhaled slowly. “Okay. Now I’m ready.”

The match was electric from the start. The stadium buzzed with noise, cheers, chants, the thud of the ball, the sharp whistles from the ref, but all of it blurred into background noise for Ling. Her body was in the game, but her heart? That stayed on the bleachers.

Every time something big happened, every foul, every sprint, every near miss, she looked for Orm. And Orm was always there, always watching. After a particularly rough tackle that sent Ling tumbling, her first thought wasn’t her scraped knee… it was Orm. She looked up immediately, scanning the bleachers.

Sure enough, Orm had already risen from her seat, worry etched across her face. Ling couldn’t help the small grin that tugged at her lips. She gave a quick OK sign, mouthing, “I’m okay.”

Orm sat back down slowly, exhaling like she'd been holding her breath. But Ling caught the way her shoulders relaxed, the way she smiled back.

And then came the goal. A stunning one, a sharp shot from outside the box that curved clean into the net. The crowd roared, teammates swarmed her, but Ling only turned toward the bleachers again.

She didn’t need to search. Orm was already standing.

Ling tipped her head slightly, a small nod just for her. Orm grinned, shaking her head in disbelief, her hands clasped near her chest like she was the one scoring the goals.

They didn’t need words. It was their secret code now.

Ling led her team to victory with a score of 3–1.

And when the cheer captain, Kao, offered Ling another bottle of water, Ling smiled politely and shook her head. “I’ve got my own bottle, but thanks. I appreciate it.”

Kao nodded with a small smile, placing the bottle back on the bleachers afterward.

Orm saw the whole thing. Of course she did. A smug little smile tugged at the corner of her lips, impossible to hide. Her friends noticed immediately, even if they didn’t know the reason. Kate narrowed her eyes suspiciously. Prig glanced around, trying to spot what Orm was grinning about. Bam just chuckled and shook her head.

Orm didn’t say a word. Let them wonder.

After the match, Orm waited by the entrance to the locker room, patient despite the rising energy around her. People were still buzzing, parents congratulating their kids, students posing for photos. But Orm’s eyes only searched for one person.

Ling finally emerged, freshened up, hair damp from a quick rinse, her duffel slung over one shoulder. The moment she spotted Orm, her face lit up like she’d just scored another goal.

“Ready to go?” she asked.

Orm nodded, already falling into step beside her. Ling’s place wasn’t far from the stadium, just a short walk. They didn’t need to take the bus or any other vehicle.

But halfway there, Orm being Orm, huffed, slowing her steps.

“You were the one running around a field for ninety minutes,” she said, eyeing Ling. “So why am I the one exhausted?”

Ling turned with a grin, crouching a little. “Hop on, baby.”

Orm grinned. She didn’t even try to resist or pretend to protest that Ling didn’t have to do it. In fact, she’d done it on purpose. Because she knew, without a doubt, that Ling would always spoil her. 

She climbed onto Ling’s back, arms looped around her shoulders, cheek pressed to her temple.

“You’re not tired?” Orm asked, amused.

“Never of you,” Ling answered, easy, like she meant every word.

Orm didn’t say anything right away. She just tightened her arms around Ling and let herself melt into her warmth. With each step, she sank a little deeper into this soft, unbelievable reality that Ling was hers.

And God. Orm didn’t know it was possible, but she fell for her just a little more.

The late afternoon sun bathed the sidewalk in soft gold as Ling carried Orm on her back, their shadows stretching ahead of them. The world around them had quieted; the buzz of the stadium faded into the background, replaced by the rustle of leaves and the occasional hum of a passing car. Orm rested easily against Ling, her arms draped loosely over her shoulders, legs swinging gently with each step.

There was something peaceful about it. Ling’s steady footsteps. The warmth of her back. The faint smell of her shampoo still clung to her damp hair. Orm let her chin fall to Ling’s shoulder, eyes fluttering shut for a second as she soaked in the moment.

Then she whispered, just loud enough for Ling to hear over the soft breeze, “You’re too good to be true, you know that?”

Ling’s smirk was instant. Though Orm couldn’t see it, she could feel it in the slight lift of her cheek.

“Nah,” Ling replied with a playful lilt in her voice. “Just lucky to have you and your full support.”

Orm chuckled against her shoulder. “Hmm, good.”

Ling shifted her grip slightly to make sure Orm was secure. “I don’t usually carry girls home after a match, you know.”

Orm smirked. “Good. I should be the only one. I should be very special.”

“You are the only one,” Ling hummed, thoughtful. “And very special. The kind of special I’d score a hat trick for.”

That made Orm laugh, the sound light and delighted. “Now you’re just showing off.”

Ling grinned. “I just want to impress my girl.”

Orm shook her head with a fond smile, then leaned in to press a quick kiss to Ling’s cheek. “You’re such an idiot.”

They both fell into a quiet smile after that, the kind that didn’t need more words. The walk wasn’t long, but neither of them seemed to want to rush it. The city moved around them, but inside their little bubble, it was just the two of them. Ling’s steady heartbeat, Orm’s quiet breaths, and the soft rhythm of footsteps leading them home.

As Ling’s apartment came into view, Orm tightened her hold for just a second, pressing her cheek back to Ling’s shoulder.

She didn’t say anything else. She didn’t need to.

Ling already knew.

Chapter Text

Most people knew Orm as the clingy one. She never denied it… quite the opposite, in fact. Her friends often teased her for how often she reached for Ling’s hand or the way she curled into Ling’s side at any given moment. Orm would only grin, toss her hair, and say something like “Well, you guys are just jealous” as if daring anyone to challenge her.

What they didn’t know, what only she knew, was that Ling could be just as clingy. It just looked different. Subtler. Quieter. Something she reserved only for Orm. And Orm? She treasured that side of Ling like a secret pearl hidden in her pocket: precious, private, hers .

It was a soft Sunday morning. Light filtered through the curtains of Ling’s house in pale gold beams, painting the floor in lazy stripes. The air was still, hushed. Ling had dragged herself through a brutal practice the day before, and today she wore her fatigue like a second skin. Still, she followed Orm around like a shadow.

Orm was in the kitchen, humming softly to herself as she stirred eggs in a bowl. She wore Ling’s oversized T-shirt, sleeves rolled, hair a little messy from sleep. That’s when Ling came up behind her, warm and slow-moving, wrapping her arms gently around Orm’s waist. She rested her chin on Orm’s shoulder without a word, pressing her cheek against her skin.

Orm smiled. “Good morning to you too,” she said softly, not stopping her movements.

Ling didn’t answer. Just tightened her arms a bit, exhaling like she could finally breathe.

“You hungry?” Orm asked, leaning her head slightly against Ling’s.

Ling gave a hum, somewhere between a yes and a sigh.

“You didn’t sleep well?”

Another hum. Then finally, a quiet, “Sore.”

Orm softened. She reached a hand up to squeeze Ling’s forearm gently. “Poor baby.”

Ling murmured something Orm didn’t catch, but it sounded suspiciously like “You smell nice.” Orm laughed under her breath and kept whisking.

They stayed like that until the eggs were done and the toast popped up. Ling didn’t move, not even when Orm shifted to grab plates.

“Ling,” Orm chuckled. “I need to move.”

Ling nuzzled against her shoulder like a cat. “Don’t wanna.”

“Come on. Let me feed you,” Orm teased.

That got her to release with a reluctant sigh. “Fine,” Ling muttered, pressing a soft kiss to Orm’s cheek before finally stepping back.

Later, they curled up on the couch. Ling lay sprawled with her head resting in Orm’s lap, her body stretched out like she owned the space, and frankly, she did. Orm absently ran her fingers through Ling’s hair, loving the way Ling’s eyes fluttered closed at the touch.

Neither of them really paid attention to the series playing on the TV. The quiet background noise was enough.

Ling shifted slightly and mumbled, “My dad sent over a new motorcycle.”

Orm blinked down at her. “Wait, what? When?”

“Yesterday.” Ling yawned, nuzzling into Orm’s stomach like it was a pillow. “I was too tired, I forgot to tell you.”

Orm’s brows shot up. “What’s the occasion, though?”

“No occasion,” Ling murmured, her voice muffled. “Just said it was for mobility. Wanted to get me a car and a personal driver. I said no.”

Orm chuckled. “Of course you did.”

Ling smiled sleepily and started kissing the back of Orm’s hand. “Bike’s better. I can get around faster.”

“Can we try it?”

Ling groaned. “Don’t wanna move from here…”

Orm grinned and leaned down to kiss her forehead. “But I want to try it.”

“Okay,” Ling murmured, already sounding half-asleep. “Tomorrow.”

Orm laughed, a soft exhale through her nose, and shook her head. “Fine. Tomorrow.”

After lunch, the sun was higher, casting warm light across the bed. Ling pulled Orm into their room and collapsed onto the mattress, arms wide open. She didn’t have to say anything, Orm immediately climbed in beside her.

As soon as she settled, Ling pulled her close, strong arms wrapping around her like she was something fragile. Her face buried into the crook of Orm’s neck, breath warm against her skin. She didn’t move. Didn’t speak.

Orm held her just as tightly.

A quiet moment passed. Then Ling’s voice, soft and half-lost against Orm’s neck. “Can we stay like this forever?”

Orm smiled, her lips brushing against Ling’s temple. “We can try,” she whispered.

Ling didn’t answer after that. Her breathing slowed, deepened, and before long, she was fast asleep.

Orm stayed awake a little longer, just staring. She traced small circles on Ling’s back with her fingertips and watched her chest rise and fall. In those quiet, unguarded moments, Orm felt her heart stretch, felt it ache with something so full and warm it scared her a little.

Ling was always strong, always steady. The way she fell asleep in Orm’s arms reminded Orm that strength could also mean vulnerability. Trust. Safety.

And maybe love, though neither had said it yet.

Orm pressed a kiss to Ling’s brow and whispered, so softly it barely escaped her lips, 

“Mine.”

The day of Ling’s next match had finally come. Orm arrived early, far earlier than she needed to. The stadium was still half-empty, the buzz just beginning to build, but her nerves had already shown up in full. Her hands were tucked into her jacket pockets, but she could feel them trembling slightly. Not from the cold, but from anticipation.

She scanned the edge of the field until she spotted Ling near the tunnel, stretching and talking to her teammates. Even from a distance, Ling looked composed and focused. That quiet intensity she always wore before a match was written all over her face.

Ling’s eyes eventually found Orm’s in the stands, and her features softened instantly. She jogged over, dodging staff and equipment, until she was just on the other side of the barrier.

“Hey,” she said, voice low, smile only for Orm.

Orm leaned down slightly, grinning despite her nerves. “Hey yourself.”

Ling reached up and gently tugged on the sleeve of her jacket. “Wish I could stay longer. Warm-ups in five.”

“I know,” Orm said, nodding, then added softly, “Just wanted to say, no matter how this match goes, I’m proud of you.”

Ling’s expression flickered, something quiet and touched shining behind her eyes. Then she smirked. “Just give me a good luck kiss, baby.”

Orm rolled her eyes playfully, leaned in, and kissed her. It was brief, sweet, and grounding. “Now go destroy them,” she whispered.

Ling grinned, that fire rekindling behind her eyes. “Yes, ma’am.”

The match was brutal.

From the moment the whistle blew, it was clear the opposing team had done their homework. They swarmed Ling every chance they got, pressing her from all sides. Triple-marking her. Trapping her. Bumping into her like it was part of the game plan.

Orm sat on the edge of her seat the entire time, fists clenched around the hem of her sweater.

“That’s a foul! Are they blind?” she snapped at no one in particular, jaw tightening when one defender slammed into Ling’s shoulder again. The referee waved it off casually.

Orm was nearly vibrating. “Get off her,” she muttered through gritted teeth.

She could see it in Ling’s movements. How hard Ling was pushing herself to stay sharp, to stay fast, even when her body looked like it was running on fumes. The collisions weren’t just physical, they were calculated. Frustrate her. Wear her down. Make her doubt.

Then came the worst one.

A vicious tackle from the side knocked Ling off her feet. She hit the ground hard, the breath visibly knocked out of her. For a second, she didn’t get up.

Orm shot to her feet like something had exploded beneath her. “HEY!” she yelled, her voice carrying down the stands.

But then Ling turned her head, eyes scanning instinctively, finding Orm instantly. Despite the dirt on her cheek and the grimace on her lips, she raised a hand and flashed the “I’m okay” sign. Then, unbelievably, she smiled.

It wasn’t a big smile. It was small, crooked, and determined. But it was enough.

Orm’s heart clenched. She slowly sat back down, exhaling hard. “You better be,” she muttered, more to herself than anyone else.

The game ended in a 1-1 draw. Penalty shootout.

The crowd was electric now, rising and falling with each goal, each miss. Ling stood at the center line, calm and unreadable. Orm could feel her own heartbeat in her throat.

When it was Ling’s turn for the final shot, deciding goal, she stepped up to the ball like the chaos around her didn’t exist. The stadium held its breath.

Orm didn’t blink.

Ling took one step, then another. Her foot met the ball with perfect force, precise and clean.

The net rippled.

The crowd erupted.

Her teammates stormed the field, shouting her name, celebrating. But Ling didn’t wait for them. She didn’t even glance at the stands. She turned, eyes already searching, already knowing.

She sprinted straight toward Orm.

Orm had barely registered what was happening when Ling reached the barricade, practically jumped over it, and pulled her into her arms. She lifted Orm clean off the ground like she weighed nothing, holding her tight and close.

“We did it,” Ling breathed, forehead pressed against Orm’s.

Orm laughed, half-dizzy from the rush, and kissed her without hesitation. The crowd didn’t matter. The noise didn’t matter. Nothing did, except the girl in her arms and the wild, messy love she felt for her.

Ling kissed her again, deeper this time, like she didn’t care who was watching. Orm kissed her back, hand sliding to the back of her neck, claiming her with that fierce, protective fire she’d felt all game.

Then she whispered firmly, right against Ling’s lips, “You are mine. And I’m so proud of you.”

Ling smiled against her mouth, eyes half-lidded, full of adoration. “I’m only yours, my love.”

Behind them, fans were still cheering her name. The entire stadium lit up with her glory. But Ling? She only had eyes for Orm.

And Orm, still breathless in her arms, thought let them watch .

Because this.

They .

Were unstoppable.

True to her promise, after the chaotic, glorious match, Ling brought her motorcycle around, waiting by the parking lot with two helmets in hand, one of which she held out to Orm with a little grin.

Orm raised an eyebrow. “You got me a helmet too?”

Ling nodded. “Of course. Custom-built.”

Orm chuckled, shaking her head. “Idiot.”

Ling helped Orm secure the helmet and swung her leg over the bike. “Hop on.”

Orm hesitated for half a second, then slid on behind her, arms wrapping tightly around Ling’s waist. Her cheek pressed lightly against Ling’s back as the engine revved beneath them.

As they took off into the evening, weaving through soft city lights and golden-orange skies, Orm shouted over the engine, “You should’ve told me it was this cool!”

Ling laughed, the sound caught in the wind. “I wanted the first ride to be with you.”

Orm tightened her hold, smile hidden behind the helmet visor. Her heart was racing, and for once, it had nothing to do with nerves. 

Just Ling. 

Just this.

They parked near a quiet stretch of the Chao Phraya River, where the breeze hummed with the scent of water and warm city air. The café Ling led her to sat tucked behind a wooden gate, strung with soft fairy lights that shimmered like stars come down to earth.

It was small, rustic, and nearly empty. Like a secret saved just for them.

Orm stepped inside, glancing around with a teasing smile. “Didn’t expect you’d know a place like this.”

Ling smirked. “I’ve got layers.”

They found a table on the patio overlooking the river, where candlelight flickered between them and the occasional boat drifted by in the distance. The sun had sunk below the skyline, leaving only the bruised-purple glow of twilight behind.

Orm, cheeks still flushed from the ride, immediately launched into a rant about the match.

“They kept targeting you! And that referee! Don’t even try to tell me he wasn’t paid off. Did you see the way he ignored that shoulder check?”

Ling didn’t say much. She didn’t need to. She just watched Orm, resting her chin in her hand, smiling softly as the candlelight danced in her eyes.

She loved it when Orm got like this… animated, passionate, alive with fire and fury. Her hands waved with every sentence, and her eyes sparkled brighter than the river lights.

Ling felt it rising inside her. A slow, undeniable ache. Like standing too close to a flame she didn’t want to run from.

And then, she leaned forward slightly.

“I love you,” she said.

Just like that.

Orm’s words caught in her throat, her rant sliced clean in the middle. Her mouth stayed open for half a second before she slowly turned to face Ling, eyes wide.

“What…?”

Ling’s gaze didn’t waver. There was no teasing in it. No hesitation. Just that quiet certainty she always wore when she was about to do something important.

“I love you,” she said again, softer this time. “I love you, Orm.”

Orm blinked fast. Her throat felt tight, like all her emotions had pushed to the surface too fast to process. Her heart thudded so loudly she wondered if Ling could hear it from across the table.

Ling reached out, gently taking her hand. She didn’t rush her. Didn’t pressure her. Just held her there. Quietly, warmly, waiting.

Orm stared down at their joined hands. Ling’s thumb was brushing over her knuckles with the same care she gave everything she loved. Her voice trembled when she finally whispered:

“I love you too, Ling.”

She looked up, eyes glassy, lips quivering in a shaky smile. “God, I didn’t expect to cry.”

Ling let out a soft laugh and leaned in, bringing Orm’s hand to her lips. She kissed it with a reverence that made Orm’s chest ache. “You happy now?” Orm teased, voice cracking.

Ling smiled, eyes never leaving hers. “Very.”

Then she leaned closer… closer until Orm could feel her breath, her warmth, her heart. And pressed their lips together in a kiss that was so impossibly gentle, Orm almost forgot how to breathe.

It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t hungry. It was certain .

It was the kind of kiss that whispered I’m not going anywhere. That told her, without question, I love you, I love you, I love you.

When they finally pulled apart, Orm tucked her head against Ling’s shoulder and closed her eyes, letting the river breeze wash over them. Ling wrapped an arm around her, pulling her in closer.

Neither of them spoke for a while.

They didn’t need to.

Not with hearts this full.

Chapter Text

The season had become a blur of victories. One by one, Ling’s team climbed through the brackets, leaving behind a trail of defeated opponents and growing whispers of their inevitable run to the finals. Week after week, stadiums buzzed with louder crowds, school banners waving proudly in the wind, but no voice ever cut through clearer than Orm’s.

She never missed a single game.

Rain or shine, blazing sun or pouring sweat, Orm was there in the stands. Hands clasped nervously during tense moments, leaping to her feet when Ling broke through the defense, and letting out a cheer that always ended in laughter because she couldn’t help smiling when Ling turned to the bleachers and found her.

Every time the final whistle blew, Ling’s gaze searched the crowd… not for the coach, not for her teammates or the scoreboard, but for one girl.

Orm.

Even from the field, she could see Orm’s expressions shift with every beat of the match. Worry in her brows when Ling went down hard, fists pumping when she scored, pride gleaming in her eyes as if she herself had won. Ling never said it aloud, but she played harder when Orm was there. She wanted to impress her. To be worthy of the way Orm looked at her, like she was the star of the sky itself.

And now… it was the semi-finals.

The stadium was packed that day, electric with anticipation. School colors painted the bleachers, drums echoing across the field, chants rising from every direction.

Orm was already seated with Prig, Kate, and Bam by her side, clutching her iced drink, her knees bouncing from nerves she pretended not to have.

“She looks calm,” Prig noted, eyes scanning Ling on the field during warm-ups.

Orm bit the inside of her cheek, trying not to smile. “She always does.”

Kate nudged her. “And you look anything but.”

Orm rolled her eyes. “She’s playing in the semi-final. She can get tackled any minute. Of course I’m a little—”

A whistle interrupted her, followed by cheers as the players took their positions. Ling adjusted the laces on her shoes, tying them a little tighter, her focus razor-sharp. She threw one glance toward the bleachers, locking eyes with Orm for a single second, and smiled.

“God,” Orm murmured, hand on her chest. “I need a seatbelt.”

The game started fast. Passes snapped through the air, cleats dug into the turf, players moving like one fluid machine. The other team was aggressive, but Ling’s team was faster, tighter, sharper.

Midway through the first half, Ling threaded a pass through two defenders, slicing the air like a scalpel. Kapook, the captain, sprinted forward and took it in stride, launching it straight into the net.

The stadium erupted. 4–2.

The commentator's voice echoed across the speakers. “Incredible assist by number 11, Kwong Lingling! What a setup, textbook precision!”

Orm jumped up with the crowd, shouting without hesitation. “YES! That’s my girlfriend!”

Bam blinked at her. “You do know we’re surrounded by people, right?”

“Good,” Orm said smugly, sitting back down, heart racing. “Let them know.”

She clapped her hands again, eyes never leaving Ling. 

And Ling, on the field, breathing hard, sweat glistening on her brow… looked up, found her again, and smiled as if Orm was the only person in that roaring stadium.

And for a moment, to Orm, it really did feel like they were the only two people in the world.

The final minutes ticked down, and Orm could already taste the celebration on the horizon. Ling’s team was ahead 4–2, the other team desperate, scrambling. Every movement on the field was faster now, sloppier, fueled by panic or adrenaline. Orm leaned forward in her seat, biting the straw of her now-melted drink, fingers curled tight around her thighs.

She was already thinking about what to say to Ling after the match. Something flirty, something teasing. Maybe she'd grab her collar and—

It happened so fast.

One second, Ling was sprinting toward the ball, shoulders squared, gaze locked ahead. And the next, another player barreled into her from the side. A brutal, body-to-body collision that snapped heads toward the field.

Ling fell.

Hard.

A sharp gasp rippled through the crowd like a sudden wave of wind. Orm froze. Her heart skipped before slamming back into her chest at double speed. She couldn't see clearly. Ling’s teammates were already surrounding her, crouched low, trying to help her sit up.

Orm stood slowly, barely hearing Prig’s concerned “What happened?” beside her. All she could see was the white of Ling’s jersey… and the streak of red sliding down from her brow.

Her stomach dropped.

She gripped the railing in front of her, knuckles white. She wanted to run down there, to push past security and drop to her knees beside Ling. But the rules. The officials. She couldn't risk the team getting penalized, not now.

So instead, she grabbed Prig’s hand and squeezed it so tightly that Prig winced.

“Please be okay,” Orm whispered, eyes locked on the field. “Please, baby, get up.”

Meanwhile, in the middle of the field, Ling sat up slowly, blinking hard. “I’m fine,” she muttered to Kapook beside her. “Just got the wind knocked out of me…”

But even as the words left her mouth, the dizziness hit.

A slow, tilting kind of haze that made the stadium lights blur. She reached up instinctively and her fingers came back slick with blood. Her brow stung, the warmth trailing down to her temple, soaking into her jersey. She could feel it, more than a scrape.

Kapook’s eyes widened. “Shit. Stay down, don’t move. Medic!”

The signal went up fast.

And in the stands, Orm’s body jolted at the raised arms. That was when she knew.

Ling wasn’t okay.

“No—” she breathed, and before anyone could stop her, she was already halfway down the stairs.

By the time the stretcher was wheeled out, Orm was there.

“Ling!” she called out, breathless. Her heart was pounding so violently she thought she might pass out, but all she could think about was getting to her.

Ling turned her head sluggishly, and when she saw Orm’s face, she smiled, just barely.

“There you are,” Ling murmured.

“Don’t talk,” Orm said quickly, brushing sweat-matted hair away from her face. “You’re bleeding.”

Ling’s hand found hers. Weak, but warm.

“It’s not bad,” she said, but even her voice betrayed her. Slightly slurred, like her focus was slipping. “Just… dizzy.”

The medic was checking her vitals, examining the cut. “She needs stitches. Deep gash, looks like she hit the ground hard. We’re taking her to the hospital.”

“I’m coming,” Orm said immediately, refusing to let go of Ling’s hand.

No one stopped her.

They loaded Ling into the ambulance, and Orm climbed in after her, still holding on, like if she let go, the pain would somehow get worse.

Inside the ambulance, the siren wasn’t even the loudest thing… Orm’s heart was. It thundered inside her ribs, so loud she thought it might drown everything out.

Ling shifted slightly, eyes fluttering open again. Her skin looked pale against the smear of red.

“Teerak,” Ling whispered, and the word shattered something in Orm.

Orm bit her bottom lip, holding back the swell of emotion. She couldn’t find the words, so she simply squeezed Ling’s hand, firm, tender, a silent answer wrapped in everything she felt.

“I’m okay,” Ling said with a faint smile, squeezing Orm’s hand. “I’m okay, teerak.”

“You’re not,” Orm whispered, voice cracking. “You’re bleeding. You scared me so bad.”

“Did I win?” Ling asked, her usual cocky edge dulled by exhaustion.

Orm huffed a tearful laugh. “You better. Or I’m filing a complaint.”

Ling smiled again, eyes slipping shut, her fingers still looped around Orm’s.

And Orm.

Orm held on like her world depended on it.

The fluorescent lights of the ER cast a pale glow over Ling’s face as she lay on the examination bed, head tilted slightly to the side, while the doctor cleaned the gash. Orm sat on the stool next to her, knees pressed together, hands clenched tightly in her lap to stop them from shaking.

Ling winced when the antiseptic touched her skin.

Orm flinched, too.

“Sorry,” the doctor muttered, focused. “It’s not that deep, but it’ll need two stitches to close up cleanly.”

“Two? That’s it?” Ling raised an eyebrow, forcing a grin. “See, baby? It’s not so bad.”

“Ling,” Orm whispered sharply, eyes glossy, her voice cracking just slightly. “Don’t joke.”

Ling turned her head slowly to look at her, and despite the tenderness around the wound, she smiled faintly. “I have to. You look like you’re about to pass out, baby.”

Orm didn’t smile back. Not yet. She just reached forward and took Ling’s hand, threading their fingers together gently.

“I’ve never seen you like that before,” Orm murmured. “On the ground. Bleeding. I couldn’t do anything.”

“You didn’t have to,” Ling said softly. “You were there. That was enough.”

The doctor stitched her up with quiet efficiency. Ling hissed once, jaw tightening, but didn’t let go of Orm’s hand. Orm squeezed back every time she heard Ling’s breath hitch.

Afterward, Ling was given a mild painkiller and moved to a private recovery room. The doctor offered a calm but firm explanation, “The stitches are done, but you’ve suffered a mild concussion. You’ll need to stay here and rest for a few hours, just to be safe.”

Orm didn’t leave her side. She sat on the edge of the bed while Ling lay there with a small bandage above her brow, her eyes fluttering closed every few minutes.

“Sleep,” Orm said quietly, brushing Ling’s hair away from her forehead.

Ling cracked one eye open. “Are you mad?”

Orm paused, her brows furrowing as she studied Ling’s face. She didn’t answer right away. Instead, she leaned down slowly and pressed a tender kiss against Ling’s temple, just beside the wound.

When she finally pulled back, her voice came out soft, trembling just slightly. “I’m terrified… but not mad.”

Ling let out a quiet breath, a faint smile curving at the corners of her lips. “I’m glad,” she whispered, her fingers curling around Orm’s. “I’m sorry I scared you, baby.”

Orm didn’t respond with words. Instead, she lifted Ling’s hand gently, pressing it to her own cheek as if grounding herself with the warmth. Her eyes fluttered closed, and a single tear slipped down her face, which Ling quickly wiped with her thumb.

Orm held Ling’s hand there, as though she never wanted to let go, her thumb rubbing slow, small circles against Ling’s skin. Ling watched her, her own eyes softening even further.

Neither of them said anything after that. They didn’t need to. In that fragile, quiet moment, the silence spoke louder than any apology or reassurance. Orm just stayed there, leaning into Ling’s touch, her heart whispered: I’m just glad you’re here. That’s all that matters.

And they stayed like that until it was well past midnight when they finally returned to Ling’s place.

The city outside had gone quiet, and so had they. The drive home had been filled with soft music and Orm’s occasional glances at Ling, who rested her head lightly against the window.

And once they arrived home, they went straight to bed.

In the dim light of the bedroom, Ling laid back against the pillows, one arm draped lazily across her stomach. The white bandage on her brow stood out starkly against her tan skin, a quiet reminder of how close tonight had come to something worse.

Orm changed into one of Ling’s oversized shirts and slid into bed beside her, moving slowly, carefully, as if any sudden motion might undo the stitches.

Ling’s eyes opened slightly, heavy with exhaustion but still focused on her.

“You’re staring,” she murmured, voice low and rough around the edges.

Orm let out a soft breath. “I can’t help it.”

Ling shifted slightly, reaching for her hand. “I’m sorry for worrying you, teerak.”

Orm wrapped an arm around her carefully and pulled her close, Ling’s head resting against her shoulder. She kissed the top of her hair and held her like she never wanted to let go.

“You scared the hell out of me,” Orm whispered. “When you fell, I thought… God, I thought something awful had happened. I didn’t care about the match, about the crowd. I just wanted you to open your eyes.”

“I'm sorry, baby,” Ling murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

“You don’t have to apologize,” Orm replied softly, leaning in to press a gentle kiss near Ling’s bandaged brow.

Ling didn’t respond, the meds were kicking in, making her eyelids heavy with sleep. But her fingers curled against Orm’s side, gentle and slow. 

Orm stroked her hair with cautious fingers, avoiding the injured side, and let her gaze settle on Ling’s sleeping face. Even with the bruise starting to form, even with the bandage… she still looked beautiful.

That was when Orm realized how deep it went. How fragile everything felt when it came to Ling. How much it would wreck her if anything ever happened to her again.

She’d never said it aloud. Not fully. But it sat there now, heavy in her chest.

“I love you.”

She kissed Ling’s head once more, whispered something soft in Thai that only the night would hear, and let her eyes close.

Wrapped in each other’s warmth, Orm finally allowed sleep to take her too.

Chapter Text

The soft glow of early morning filtered through the curtains, painting the bedroom in hues of pale gold and quiet blue. The world outside was just beginning to stir, but inside, the room remained wrapped in stillness and warmth.

Ling stirred first.

Her eyelids fluttered open slowly, vision adjusting to the muted light. For a moment, she was disoriented. The weight on her head, the dull ache that pulsed behind her brow, but then she felt it… the gentle weight of Orm’s arm draped across her waist, warm and secure. The pain dulled instantly under that single comfort.

She didn’t move. Didn’t dare disturb the peace wrapped around them like a second blanket. Ling simply lay there, bandaged and a little dizzy, watching Orm sleep beside her. Her girlfriend’s lashes rested softly against her cheeks, her breathing even and calm. One arm was still tucked beneath Ling, the other across her waist like Orm had been afraid to let go all night.

Ling’s heart melted all over again.

With a tender smile tugging at her lips, she brought her hand up and began tracing light, slow circles along the back of Orm’s hand with her thumb. It was mindless, gentle, the kind of touch meant for no one else to see.

She thought about the night before. About Orm rushing down those stadium steps, about her panicked eyes, her trembling voice in the ambulance. Ling remembered the way Orm held onto her like letting go wasn’t an option. Even now, hours later, that emotion lingered in the air between them.

I’m so lucky , Ling thought. To have someone love me like this. To be loved by her.

Eventually, Orm stirred. Her brow twitched, her nose scrunched, and with a sleepy breath, she blinked her eyes open. For a brief second, she looked confused, like her mind was still caught between sleep and reality. But then she saw Ling watching her. Soft smiles met in silence.

“Hey,” Ling whispered, her voice rough from sleep. “Good morning.”

Orm hummed in response, her eyes still heavy, and leaned in instinctively, nuzzling her nose gently against Ling’s cheek. “Morning.”

“You kinda scared me last night,” Ling murmured, her tone quiet but teasing. “Crying like that for me.”

Orm’s response came in a sleepy mumble, her lips brushing Ling’s temple. “You scared me first.”

Ling let out a low chuckle, amused by how natural this all felt, like they’d been waking up like this forever.

“So you do love me,” she teased, arching a brow just slightly.

Orm cracked one eye open, deadpan. “You idiot,” she said, but there was no bite in her voice, only fondness. “I said it already, remember?”

“I know.” Ling grinned, playfully smug. “Say it again.”

Orm closed her eyes again and buried her face in the crook of Ling’s neck with a soft groan. “So demanding in the morning…”

But she said it anyway. Quietly. Sincerely.

“I love you.”

Ling’s grin softened, her gaze turning tender. She reached up and brushed a strand of hair away from Orm’s face before leaning forward and pressing a kiss to her forehead.

“I love you more, teerak.”

They didn’t need to say anything else. Not for a while.

Ling nestled closer, resting her head gently against Orm’s chest, where she could hear the steady beat of her heart. Orm’s fingers found their way into Ling’s hair, stroking carefully around the bandage like she was afraid to cause more pain. Her touch was soft. Protective. And so full of love.

They stayed like that, wrapped in each other and in the quiet hum of morning. No rush, no noise, no fear.

Just them.

The morning sunlight had climbed a little higher by the time Ling reluctantly left the warmth of Orm’s arms. With Orm trailing behind her like a gentle shadow, they made their way to the living room where the couch was already piled with pillows and a throw blanket. Orm’s doing, no doubt.

Ling sat down with a slight wince, the motion still tugging at her injury. Orm noticed, of course, and wordlessly handed her a warm cup of tea before curling up beside her, her legs folded neatly to the side.

They sat in quiet comfort for a moment. Ling sipping her tea, Orm resting her head lightly on Ling’s shoulder, until Ling reached for her phone.

“Time to update the gang,” she murmured.

She opened the team group chat and typed, thumbs moving slowly, still careful from the residual soreness in her limbs.

[Ling]: Semi-final win + bonus stitches. Not the best combo, but I’m okay. Thanks for the support, guys.

It only took a few seconds for the replies to come flooding in.

Kapook sent a voice note first. Ling tapped to listen, and Kapook’s dramatic voice boomed through the speaker:

“You badass with battle scars! Damn, next time warn us before you go full-action movie mode.”

Ling chuckled, shaking her head.

Mae followed with a quick reply: You better still come cheer us on at the final. No skipping.

Then Ying, ever blunt, added: Yeah. No skipping. I’ll drag you there myself.

Ling smirked as she typed back, already knowing this would stir them up: Bold of you to assume I’m gonna skip. I’ll be there, and I will play with you guys in the final.

The chat exploded instantly.

[Mae]: What??
[Kapook]: Wait WHAT? Are you serious??
[Ying]: You hit your head harder than we thought.
[Nene]: Girl, you need a nap, not a match!
[Ling]: We still have a week. I’ll be fine by then.

Ling smiled softly at the barrage of concern and teasing. It felt good, this banter, this familiar rhythm with her team. It reminded her of why she loved the game so much in the first place. She was still smiling when Orm peeked over her shoulder, sipping her tea slowly.

“You’re gonna play in the final?” Orm asked, her brows drawing together, voice quiet but unmistakably concerned.

Ling looked up from her phone and nodded without hesitation. “Yes, baby.”

Orm didn’t answer right away. She set her cup down and shifted to face Ling more fully, arms crossing in a way that was both protective and pouty.

“But you haven’t fully recovered,” she said, her tone firm but tinted with worry.

Ling reached out and gently took Orm’s hand in both of hers, turning it palm up and pressing a kiss to the back of it. “I’ll be fine, teerak. I’ve still got a week to rest. I’ll take it seriously, I promise.”

Orm’s lips pulled into a soft pout, clearly not convinced. Her eyes dipped down to Ling’s bandaged head before slowly rising to meet her gaze again. “I just… I don’t want you to get hurt. Worse than you already are.”

Ling’s expression softened. She reached up and cupped Orm’s cheek, her thumb brushing gently across her skin, and then tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear with that same familiar tenderness.

“I know,” Ling said quietly. “And I love how much you care. But I want to win this for you. Let me win this one for you, my love.”

Orm didn’t respond at first. She looked down at their joined hands, her fingers absently brushing against Ling’s knuckles. There was a long, silent pause. Orm’s signature when she was conflicted. But eventually, she sighed through her nose and nodded, still not completely thrilled.

“Fine,” she muttered, though her tone was barely grumpy. “But only if you fully rest until then. Whole week. No cheating.”

Ling beamed, leaning forward to press a soft kiss to Orm’s lips. “Deal,” she whispered.

Orm hummed, barely hiding her smile as she leaned against Ling’s shoulder again. Ling tucked the blanket around them both, locking the world out for a while longer, just the way she liked it.

The soft hum of the electric kettle filled the kitchen, blending with the quiet afternoon light that filtered through pale curtains. Orm moved slowly, her motions fluid but thoughtful as she plated two servings of steamed rice and stir-fried vegetables. A fried egg crackled in the pan beside her, the golden edges curling just right. Simple. Familiar. Comforting.

But her thoughts weren’t in the kitchen.

They were still in last night.

The blood.

Ling’s dazed eyes.

The shaking in her own hands as she pressed down on the wound, trying to stay calm while her heart screamed inside her chest.

Orm swallowed thickly, stirring the pan absentmindedly.

If that hit had been worse... if the fall had been just a little harder...

She closed her eyes for a moment, gripping the edge of the counter to ground herself. Her stomach tightened. It had been too close, too real.

She opened her eyes and looked out toward the living room.

Ling was curled up on the couch, wrapped in a blanket, her bandaged head resting against a pillow. She held her phone in both hands, scrolling through messages, a soft smile tugging at her lips. Something in that small, peaceful expression broke through the fear still lingering in Orm’s chest.

This wasn’t just love.

This was home.

Ling was home. And Orm never wanted to imagine a life without her again.

A quiet breath left her lips as she turned off the stove and carried the plates into the living room.

“You’re not skipping meals just because you’re injured,” she said, setting a tray down in front of Ling with mock sternness.

Ling looked up, grinning. “Yes, ma’am.” Her voice was playful, but the warmth behind her eyes was sincere.

Orm rolled her eyes, biting back a smile as she handed her a spoon and slid onto the couch beside her. Ling leaned against her immediately, as if pulled by instinct, her shoulder nestled against Orm’s arm.

They ate in silence, save for the occasional clink of spoon against plate. It wasn’t awkward, it was easy. Quiet in the way that only two people who truly knew each other could manage. Ling’s head gently tilted against Orm’s as she chewed slowly, savoring both the food and the moment.

When they finished, Orm reached forward to stack the empty plates, but Ling tugged her gently back into the cushions.

“Stay,” she murmured.

Orm obliged with a smile, curling her legs up again as Ling pulled the blanket around both of them. Ling’s fingers found the hem of Orm’s shirt and rested there, tracing small circles just above her knee.

“You didn’t sleep much last night, right?” Ling asked, voice drowsy now, low and tender.

Orm let out a soft huff. “Didn’t want to let go.”

There was no dramatics in the way she said it. Just honesty. Ling smiled faintly, her heart fluttering in her chest as she turned her face into the crook of Orm’s neck.

“I feel safe with you,” she mumbled.

Orm closed her eyes, leaning her head against Ling’s. Her hand slid into Ling’s hair gently, stroking near the unbandaged part with careful fingers. “Good,” she whispered.

A beat passed.

Then Ling, ever the quiet tease, said against her skin, “So basically, I should get injured more often if it means I get spoiled like this.”

Orm groaned. “Don’t even joke about that.”

Ling chuckled, nudging her playfully. “I’m kidding. But I really could get used to this part.”

Orm smiled, lips brushing against Ling’s temple. “Well... maybe just the cuddling part.”

“Mmm. Best part,” Ling agreed, closing her eyes fully now, lulled by the soft rhythm of Orm’s fingers through her hair and the way their breaths slowly synced.

And for a long, peaceful moment, neither of them said anything else.

They didn’t need to.

They just needed to be  together, held in each other’s arms, in the home they built with love.

The day had stretched long, golden light fading into muted gray outside the windows. The living room was cast in the soft glow of the TV, some old drama playing with low volume, its characters talking over each other in a hum that neither Ling nor Orm really paid attention to.

They were curled up on the couch, wrapped in the same blanket from earlier. Ling rested against Orm’s chest again, one arm lazily draped over her waist, the rhythm of her breathing slow and steady. Her body was still healing, bandages and bruises marked her skin. But she was warm, safe, here.

Orm had her fingers gently stroking Ling’s arm, her own body relaxed beneath the weight of the woman she loved. It wasn’t tense like last night. The tightness in her chest had faded into something softer, something quieter.

Ling shifted slightly, eyes still half-lidded from the day’s haze. She tilted her face up a little, voice hushed and close. “When they carried me off the field…”

Orm’s fingers paused, just for a second, sensing the change in tone.

“…I didn’t care about the game anymore,” Ling continued, her voice catching just slightly on the edges of something unspoken. “I just wanted to see you.”

Orm turned her head, meeting Ling’s gaze, her chest pulling tight again. But not from panic this time. Just from how open Ling was being. That quiet kind of brave that came with vulnerability.

“I was right there,” Orm said softly, reaching for her hand and threading their fingers together. “The whole time.”

Ling smiled, her eyes shining faintly. “I know,” she whispered. “That’s what kept me calm. Even when everything was a blur… I kept thinking, Orm’s here. ”

Orm squeezed her hand gently, resting their joined hands on her chest. “You scared the hell out of me, you know.”

“I know,” Ling murmured, pressing a kiss just above Orm’s collarbone. “I scared myself too.”

“Next time,” Orm added, nudging her forehead against Ling’s, “try winning without the injury. Just a suggestion.”

Ling chuckled, eyes crinkling. “You’re so bossy when you’re worried.”

Orm lifted a brow. “Do you like it?”

Ling smirked. “Maybe.”

That earned her a playful eye roll, but Orm couldn’t help smiling.

Silence settled over them again, comfortable and soft. Ling shifted until her head was nestled perfectly over Orm’s heart. Her breath evened out, and her body gradually gave in to the warmth of the moment. Her eyes fluttered closed, her lashes brushing against Orm’s skin.

Orm kept her hand wrapped around Ling’s, her other arm securely around her back. She watched her sleep this time with no panic in her chest, no fear creeping up her spine. Just peace.

She leaned down and kissed the top of Ling’s head, her lips lingering against her hair for a beat longer than usual.

“You’re everything to me,” she whispered.

And as the world outside faded into night, Orm stayed there, holding her love close, grateful for every breath, every heartbeat, and every quiet second that passed between them.

Chapter Text

The week leading up to the final had been a slow, careful rhythm of rest and healing. Ling followed the doctor’s orders to the letter. Pain meds on time, daily naps, even the bland protein shakes Orm insisted on. Her dizziness had faded by the second day. The stitches were still there, but the swelling had gone down, and the bandaged area on her temple was no longer angry red. Just healing skin beneath layers of gauze.

Orm helped her change the bandage every morning and night, gently dabbing around the wound with practiced care. Sometimes she kissed the uninjured side of Ling’s forehead after, murmuring, “You're healing well, baby,” and Ling would smile, resting her hand over Orm’s as if to say “ because of you”.

And now, finally, it was the day.

The stadium locker room buzzed with a current of pre-match energy. Cleats clicked against the tile floor, jerseys rustled, players passed around water bottles and last-minute pep talk. Excitement, nerves, and determination all hung in the air like static.

Ling sat on the bench, jersey half-pulled over her head. She adjusted the hem and reached up to touch the edge of the bandage near her temple, almost healed now, barely noticeable beneath her hair. The memory of the hit still lingered in the back of her mind, but it didn’t haunt her. If anything, it sharpened her focus.

She picked up her phone one last time before the match started, already smiling before she opened the chat.

Orm: No injuries this time. Just glory, okay?

Ling chuckled under her breath, thumbs tapping a response.

Ling: Only glory. For you.

A second later, Orm replied:

Orm: Don’t push yourself too hard, if you feel dizzy, take a break, okay?

Ling: Roger that. I’ll see you from the field, teerak. Love you.

Orm: Love you too.

Ling held the phone against her chest for a moment, her eyes drifting shut. She pictured Orm in the stands, likely already seated, probably clutching her knees anxiously like she always did. That image alone steadied her heart.

She remembered Orm’s tear-stained face at the hospital. The tremble in her voice. The way her hand hadn’t let go even once throughout the night.

That memory rooted Ling now. It gave her strength.

She stood and rolled her shoulders back. “Let’s go,” she said quietly to herself.

Her teammates filed out ahead of her, chatter turning into distant echoes. Ling took one last breath, soaking in the feeling of the moment. The adrenaline, the quiet fire in her chest, the soft hum of love threading through her thoughts.

She stepped out of the locker room and into the tunnel, the bright light of the field just ahead, waiting. And somewhere in the stands, Orm was watching.

The sun blazed high over the stadium, golden and proud, as Ling stepped onto the field. The roar of the crowd hit her like a wave, crashing through her chest. Flags waved, chants rolled like thunder from the stands, and somewhere amid the sea of voices, she knew Orm’s was the loudest.

The announcer’s voice echoed across the field, but Ling barely registered it. Her heart was already pounding in rhythm with the adrenaline surging through her veins. She jogged to her position, taking a moment to glance up at the stands.

And there she was. 

Orm.

Front row, pressed against the railing, hands wrapped tightly around the edge, eyes locked on Ling with that mix of pride and nerves that never failed to make Ling feel ten feet tall.

Ling pressed her palm briefly to her chest, a quiet promise, then turned back just in time for the whistle to blow.

The match began.

From the very first touch of the ball, it was intense. Every pass, every sprint, every tackle came with weight. Ling’s muscles remembered the rhythm. She glided across the field like a storm, eyes scanning, feet flying. Her team moved with her, like parts of the same machine, driven by months of practice, pain, and passion.

But Ling. 

Ling had something more today. She played with heart.

This wasn’t just about the trophy. This wasn’t just about the crowd or the headlines or the medal.

This was for Orm.

For the girl who had stayed beside her hospital bed. For every bandage changed, every soft morning smile, every whispered “I love you.” This was Ling’s answer to all of it.

She dodged a defender and sent a clean pass forward, calling out to her teammate, voice clear and commanding. The crowd responded with a roar. Her bandaged temple barely throbbed anymore. It was just a memory now, one she refused to let slow her down.

And then, one sharp moment. An opponent came in hard, their angle reckless, cutting toward her path. It happened fast. Too fast.

Ling’s instinct kicked in and she pivoted sharply, almost slipping, but she steadied herself just in time. Her heart raced, and for a split second, she heard Orm’s voice in her head.

Don’t push yourself too hard, if you feel dizzy...

Ling smiled.

Not today.

No injuries. Just glory. She had promised.

She turned the near-collision into momentum, sliding into position for the final play as the clock ticked into its final minute.

Her teammate launched the ball in a high arc, clean, perfect. Ling surged forward. Time slowed. She rose into the air, the stadium lights blinding behind the ball. Her body moved before thought could catch up, head meeting the ball in a clean, flawless header.

The net rippled.

The whistle blew.

And then—

Pandemonium.

The stadium exploded. A wave of noise that swallowed everything. Her team’s bench cleared, her name was chanted, and before Ling could fully register what had happened, she was already sprinting.

Straight toward the stands.

Toward her.

Orm.

She reached the railing, and Orm leaned over just in time to be caught in Ling’s arms. Their bodies collided in a breathless, laughing, almost tearful embrace. Ling clutched her close, sweat and joy and adrenaline buzzing in her veins.

But the moment was stolen quickly by a mob of teammates crashing into her with whoops and cheers, lifting her up as they cheer. She threw her head back and laughed, pointing toward the stands.

Even as she was hoisted high above the crowd, her eyes found Orm again.

Ling had never felt so alive.

And she had never felt so sure—

She had won this for her.

The crowd was still roaring, but for Ling, it had all gone quiet. From her place atop her teammates’ shoulders, laughter around her, flashes going off like fireworks, she scanned the stands, and found her again.

Orm.

Their eyes locked across the field. Everything else fell away. The chants, the announcer, even the weight of the moment, it all blurred into the background. Just them.

Ling smiled, sweat glistening on her skin, chest still heaving from the match. She mouthed the words across the distance, slow and deliberate, like a vow.

For you.

Orm stood frozen for a heartbeat, lips parted, hands covering her mouth. Tears clung to her lashes, but she smiled through them, proud, full, radiant. She nodded, her whole heart in that small gesture.

And Ling’s own heart clenched with something warm and vast.

As her feet touched the ground again, the team huddled around her, slapping her back, shouting her name. It was chaos. Beautiful, glorious chaos.

Then came the announcement.

“And the Most Valuable Player of the tournament… Number 11, Lingling Kwong!”

The crowd exploded again.

Ling blinked, startled. “Wait, me?”

Her captain grinned and shoved her gently forward. “Yes, you, dumbass. Go.”

She laughed, a little breathless, a little stunned. The officials stepped up, holding the shining medal out toward her. Gold glinted under the stadium lights.

Ling accepted it with both hands, bowing her head slightly as the medal was placed around her neck. The weight settled against her chest. But it felt too heavy, too bright, to belong to just her.

She didn’t hesitate.

Even as applause thundered around her and reporters edged closer, Ling was already turning, eyes searching, feet moving.

She ran.

Across the grass, through the edge of the crowd. Teammates called after her, a few jokingly tried to grab her arm. The announcer’s voice tried to keep pace, commentating her spontaneous sprint, but Ling heard none of it.

Her gaze was fixed on one person: Orm.

Orm barely had time to react before Ling was there, arms strong and sure, sweeping her into a full-body embrace over the railing. Orm gasped, laughing through her tears as she clung to Ling, burying her face in her shoulder.

“Ling, what are you—”

“I told you,” Ling murmured, pulling back just enough to see her eyes. She slipped the MVP medal off her neck, careful and slow, like it was something sacred.

Then, gently, she placed it around Orm’s neck, letting the ribbon settle against her collarbones.

“I told you I’d win this for you.”

Orm’s breath caught. Her hands hovered over the medal, stunned. “You really did,” she whispered, voice cracking with awe and disbelief. “God, you really did.”

Ling smiled. A tired, radiant smile, flushed with victory and love. “You were the only thing on my mind. Every pass, every play, I kept seeing your face. And I knew I couldn’t let you down.”

Orm looked like she might cry again. But instead, she laughed. A small, helpless sound, and leaned in.

They kissed.

Not a rushed kiss, not a show for the cameras or the crowd. A slow, grounding kiss. Soft lips, warm skin, the smell of grass and sweat and something like forever.

Around them, the stadium was a storm of sound. But inside this moment, it was quiet. Just them.

When they pulled apart, Ling pressed their foreheads together, still catching her breath.

“I love you,” she whispered.

Orm’s thumb brushed her cheek, eyes crinkling with joy.

“I love you too.”

Ling’s arm tightened around her. “Stay with me through the interviews? The photos? All of it?”

Orm grinned, tugging the medal gently. “You’re my MVP now. You think I’d go anywhere?”

Ling laughed and kissed her again. Just because she could.

And together, hand in hand, they turned back toward the floodlights and the celebration waiting to sweep them up again.

But no matter how loud the cheers got—

They already had everything they came for.

After the medal ceremony, Ling was pulled into a circle of flashing cameras and microphones, her teammates trailing behind her in varying states of exhaustion and triumph.

The interview stage was set just off the field, under the glow of floodlights, a small table lined with bottles of water and energy drinks. Kapook, still glowing with captain energy, took the lead as usual.

Kapook grinned at the crowd of reporters. “Okay, make it quick! We’re trying to get to our afterparty!”

Laughter rippled through the press.

The questions came rapid-fire. Strategy, standout moments, how it felt to win the final. Kapook answered most of them with charm and wit, tossing credit to the whole team like the natural leader she was.

And then—

“And now a question for the tournament MVP, Lingling Kwong.”

Ling sat up straighter, adjusting the collar of her still-damp jersey. She glanced at Kapook, who smirked and nudged her knee under the table.

The reporter continued, “Ling, you played with remarkable heart today. Can you share what was going through your mind during that final match?”

Ling smiled, eyes flicking briefly to the edge of the crowd where Orm stood, just behind the barrier, arms folded and watching her like she was the most fascinating thing in the world.

Ling cleared her throat, voice steady. “Honestly? I just… I kept thinking of someone.”

A few reporters raised their brows.

“My teerak,” she continued, her smile growing a little sheepish, a little shy. “She’s been with me through everything. The injury, the recovery, every single match. I told her I’d win this one for her. Every goal, every run… it was for her.”

A chorus of “awww”s burst from her teammates.

Kapook snorted, leaning into the mic. “She’s turning soft, guys. Alert the press.”

Everyone laughed, including Orm, who shook her head, biting back a grin as she blushed lightly under the stadium lights.

Ling shot a mock-glare at her team. “Shut up. I can be fierce and soft.”

“Only when Orm’s watching!” someone from the back yelled, and the entire team cracked up.

Ling didn’t even deny it. She just shrugged with a smile, gaze drifting back to Orm.

“She’s the reason I played the way I did. And she’s the reason I’ll keep playing.”

Orm’s heart swelled. And even though the cameras weren’t pointed at her, she reached up and touched the MVP medal that still hung from her neck, fingers brushing the cool metal like it anchored her in the moment.

Ling cleared her throat, her voice steady despite the adrenaline still humming through her. “I’d also like to thank my team and our coach for believing in me, even though I’m new to this team.”

Orm barely heard the rest of the interview. The noise around her faded into a distant blur as her focus narrowed to one thing. The player standing there, shining under the stadium lights, medal glinting against her chest. The MVP. Her girlfriend. Lingling Kwong. Hers.

And as soon as Ling stepped away from the interview area, Orm was already waiting, eyes gleaming with pride, phone in hand. Without missing a beat, she grabbed Ling by the jersey, pulling her close with a laugh.

“Come here, my MVP,” Orm grinned, slipping her arm around Ling’s shoulder.

Ling chuckled, sliding her arm easily around Orm’s waist, her body fitting naturally against hers. She watched, amused, as Orm lifted the shiny medal with her free hand, proudly displaying it to the phone's camera like it was hers , which, to be fair, Ling had already said it was.

“Smile, teerak,” Orm said in a sing-song voice, winking at Ling before snapping a few quick selfies.

Ling shook her head fondly but smiled big for the camera, leaning in closer, heart warm and full. Orm took a few more, making faces in some, sticking her tongue out in one, before laughing breathlessly.

“Alright, that's enough photoshoot for now,” Ling teased, tugging lightly at a strand of Orm’s hair.

Orm only smirked mischievously, already furiously typing with her thumbs. Ling peeked over her shoulder as Orm posted one of the cutest pictures, both of them grinning wide, the medal gleaming between them, to her Instagram.

The caption appeared right underneath, bold and unabashed:

“MVP of the match, MVP of my heart. We won!”

Ling let out a soft laugh. “That’s so cheesy, baby.”

“Cheesy is exactly what you signed up for,” Orm shot back proudly, bumping her shoulder against Ling's.

Within seconds, likes and comments started flooding in. Heart emojis, fire emojis, friends teasing them with ‘get a room!’ or ‘too cute to be real’ comments. Some were openly jealous ‘I want what they have’ while others just flooded the post with congratulations and pure adoration.

Ling leaned her forehead against Orm’s temple, smiling as she watched the flood of love pour in. “You know they’re only saying that because you're too pretty,” Ling teased.

Orm grinned, slipping her phone into her pocket and turning to face her fully. “Nah,” she said confidently, looping her arms around Ling’s neck. “They’re jealous because I’ve got you.”

Ling’s heart skipped in that way only Orm could make it. She dropped a soft kiss to Orm’s cheek, breathing her in.

“Guess we both won,” Ling murmured.

Orm tilted her head, smiling so brightly it almost hurt to look at her. “Always.”

Later that night, after the chaos of the celebration and the flood of congratulations from teammates and fans alike, they finally returned home. Just the two of them. The apartment welcomed them with its quiet, familiar warmth, a stark contrast to the roaring stadium and lively after-party.

Their medals and gifts were set aside on the entryway table, forgotten for now. None of it mattered compared to the peace they found here.

Orm, still buzzing with pride and affection, had prepared a small surprise: a modest cake, decorated with messy handwriting that read Champion! in bold icing. She had hidden it in the fridge before they even left for the game.

When Ling spotted it sitting proudly on the coffee table, her heart melted all over again. “You,” she said, laughing softly, her voice full of fondness as she turned to Orm, who was trying, and failing, to look nonchalant.

Orm shrugged, grinning as she handed Ling a fork. “It’s not much, but... you deserve a celebration that’s just ours.”

They had already changed into pajamas, comfortable and loose, bare-faced and barefoot, legs tangled lazily on the couch. Ling’s MVP medal lay gleaming quietly on the table, as if even it knew it had served its purpose.

Ling leaned back, resting her head against the couch and letting out a long, content sigh. She reached out, tucking a loose strand of Orm’s hair behind her ear with a touch so careful, it made Orm’s heart skip a beat.

“I saw you,” Ling said softly, her dark eyes reflecting nothing but tenderness. “After the final whistle blew. I looked up and saw you... and I knew everything I fought for... was worth it.”

Orm’s lips parted, but no words came out. She closed her eyes instead, letting the emotion wash over her, humming softly in response. Ling could make her heart flutter so easily, just by being honest, just by being herself .

Ling’s hand slid to cup Orm’s cheek, her thumb brushing slow, reverent strokes along her skin. “Thank you for staying through all the games, teerak,” Ling whispered.

Orm leaned into the touch instinctively, her smile small but full of feeling. “You know I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Ling chuckled under her breath, eyes bright but soft. She grabbed a can of soda from the table and popped it open, raising it between them like a toast.

“To the girl who stayed.”

Orm giggled, her fingers brushing Ling’s as she picked up her own can. She tapped it gently against Ling’s.

“To the girl who won.”

They drank, but it was only a formality. Their real celebration came next, when Ling set her soda down, leaned closer, and captured Orm’s lips in a slow, lingering kiss. It was sweet and unhurried, like a promise written in their very breath.

When they finally pulled apart, forehead to forehead, Ling stayed close, her hand still cradling Orm’s face.

“I didn’t just win a game today,” she murmured, her voice trembling slightly from the sheer sincerity of it. She brushed the back of her fingers against Orm’s cheek, looking at her like she was the rarest treasure. “I won a life. With you.”

Orm felt her chest tighten painfully with love. She pressed another kiss against Ling’s lips, letting the moment settle deep into her bones.

Outside, the world kept turning, noisy and demanding. But here, in their small, sacred corner of it, everything else faded away.

It was just them. 

And it was enough.

It was everything.

Chapter Text

The days following the soccer tournament felt almost surreal.

Wherever Ling went on campus, attention seemed to follow like a second shadow. Students who had never even glanced her way were now smiling shyly when she passed by. A few brave souls even handed her little gifts. Snack bags, cute notes scribbled with hearts, even a tiny plush keychain that Orm immediately confiscated without a word.

Orm watched it all unfold with growing irritation.

It wasn’t that she didn’t know Ling was attractive, of course she did. Ling was smart, strong, beautiful in that quiet, unbothered way that made people curious. But now, with everyone suddenly realizing it too, Orm found herself battling the irrational urge to glare at every single person who so much as looked at her girlfriend for too long.

One afternoon, after class, Orm and Ling walked side by side through the courtyard, the summer sun casting long shadows across the pavement. Ling carried a small paper bag someone had shoved into her arms earlier, some kind of homemade cookies. Orm, lips pursed, snatched the bag out of Ling’s hand and shoved it into her own tote without even asking.

Ling quirked an eyebrow. “Planning to eat that?”

“Nope,” Orm said, flipping her hair and grabbing Ling’s hand tightly, threading their fingers together. “Just making sure you don’t.”

Ling chuckled under her breath, her thumb automatically brushing slow, soothing circles against the back of Orm’s hand.

“You’re jealous,” Ling teased lightly, glancing sideways at her.

“I’m not jealous,” Orm huffed, lifting her chin stubbornly. “I’m territorial . Big difference.”

Ling laughed again, the sound low and warm, and Orm hated how it made her heart skip traitorously even while she tried to act annoyed.

Another girl they barely knew from a neighboring class waved and smiled shyly as they passed by. The girl hesitated, clearly wanting to say hi, but decided it wasn’t worth risking Orm’s wrath.

Orm’s grip on Ling’s hand tightened instantly. She didn’t even bother hiding the flat look she gave the poor girl. Ling, to her credit, just smiled politely and kept walking, seemingly unaffected.

Orm leaned in, whispering near Ling’s ear, “You should wear a sign or something. ‘Property of Orm Kornnaphat.’”

Ling tilted her head, feigning deep thought. “Hmm. Think I should get it printed on a shirt? Maybe a neon one so it’s really obvious?”

Orm cracked a reluctant grin. “You’re an idiot.”

“Your idiot,” Ling said easily, her voice soft, and somehow that simple word wrapped around Orm’s heart like a warm ribbon.

Orm sighed dramatically but couldn’t hide her smile. Ling squeezed her hand a little tighter as they walked through the sunny courtyard, basking in the quiet assurance between them.

Still, when they passed a bench where two first-years were clearly whispering and pointing in Ling’s direction, Orm narrowed her eyes dangerously.

Ling leaned in closer. “Don’t worry, babe. I only have eyes for you.”

Orm rolled her eyes exaggeratedly, but her cheeks were already pink, and she didn’t loosen her hold on Ling’s hand until they reached the canteen.

It didn't matter how many times it happened, how many little gift bags showed up at Ling’s desk, how many shy smiles were thrown her way in the hallways, Ling never let it slide without reassuring Orm.

Every. Single. Time.

If Orm so much as narrowed her eyes at some girl lingering too long near Ling’s locker, Ling would catch it immediately.

And without missing a beat, she would lean down, pressing a kiss just behind Orm’s ear, murmuring, “They can only look, baby. But you’re the only one I see.”

The first few times, Orm still huffed, pretending to be unimpressed, pretending she didn’t like the way her heart practically somersaulted in her chest. But Ling always caught the tiny twitch of her smile, always.

One afternoon, as they were sitting outside by the courtyard, sharing a soda, a group of girls giggled as they passed by, one of them even daring to wave at Ling. Orm stiffened immediately, elbow propped on the table, chin in her hand, scowling like a cat whose tail had been stepped on.

Ling simply chuckled, reaching over to tuck a stray strand of hair behind Orm’s ear. “You’re so scary when you’re jealous,” Ling teased, eyes dancing with amusement.

“I’m not jealous,” Orm muttered, pouting. “I’m just...protective.”

Ling’s grin widened. She tapped Orm’s nose playfully. “Sure you are, baby.”

Orm crossed her arms, cheeks puffed slightly in indignation.

“Fine. Let them stare all they want,” she huffed, tossing her hair over her shoulder dramatically. “They can drool all they like. You’re mine.”

Ling’s heart squeezed at the sight of her, trying to look haughty but utterly, adorably flustered. She leaned in, lips brushing against the corner of Orm’s mouth in a feather-light kiss.

“I've always been yours," Ling whispered.

And slowly, day by day, Orm stopped scowling whenever someone looked Ling’s way. Instead, she would smirk, head held high, like a queen surveying her kingdom, confident that no matter how many admirers buzzed around, she was the one Ling went home with.

She didn’t even have to say anything anymore. Sometimes, all she did was lock eyes with Ling from across the room, and Ling would flash her that soft, secret smile meant for her and her alone.

Yeah, Orm thought smugly, sitting back with her arms crossed one day as another girl practically tripped over herself trying to get Ling’s attention.

Look all you want. You’ll never have her.

The canteen buzzed with its usual after-class chaos. Trays clattering, friends shouting across tables, and a line snaking from the snack counter to the door. Ling had just set her tray down when suddenly, Kate, Prig, and Bam swooped in like a squad of seagulls spotting a lone french fry. Before she could even blink, they had flanked her from all sides.

“Sit,” Kate ordered, pointing at the chair as if she were a mob boss about to interrogate a suspect.

Ling blinked, half amused, half cautious, but obeyed. She set her drink down and folded her arms loosely, smirking. “What’s this? An ambush?”

“More like a friendly investigation,” Prig said sweetly, too sweetly, as she plopped into the chair across from her.

“Friendly, huh?” Ling muttered under her breath, making Bam snort.

Kate leaned in, elbows on the table, hands clasped like a detective ready to grill her prime suspect. “Alright, spill,” she said seriously. “What spell did you cast on our best friend?”

Ling tilted her head, pretending to be confused. “What do you mean?”

Kate narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “Don't play dumb. Orm’s gotten all...soft and cute ever since you two got together.” She pulled a disgusted face, but the mischief in her eyes gave her away.

“Yeah,” Prig added, snickering. “Less bitchy. More....” she wiggled her fingers dramatically, “.... sparkly .”

Bam burst into laughter, almost choking on her drink.

Ling laughed too, leaning back in her chair casually. “I didn’t cast anything,” she said innocently, twirling her straw between her fingers. “She’s just...naturally cute. Always has been.”

Bam waggled her eyebrows. “Uh. Sure. But if you did cast something…”

Ling smirked, playful. “If I did, I wouldn’t tell you.”

“Unbelievable!” Kate gasped in mock betrayal, clutching her chest.

“You have to share the secret,” Bam said, leaning so far back she almost tipped over her chair.

“Totally,” Prig nodded eagerly, already pulling out her phone like she was ready to take notes. “I need it for my new crush. Desperately.”

Ling chuckled, taking a sip of her drink while they whined. It was oddly entertaining, seeing the three of them gang up on her like this.

“Okay, okay,” Kate waved her hand after a minute of playful banter. “Real talk now,” she said, straightening up. Her voice softened just a little. “I’m glad she’s happy. Like, really happy.”

“Yeah,” Bam agreed, nudging Kate’s arm. “She’s always been the life of the party, but now she’s...I don’t know...even brighter.”

“It's like you bring out the best version of her,” Prig said thoughtfully, surprising everyone, even herself, with how sincere it came out.

Kate leaned forward again, but this time her smile was a little more serious. “So listen, Ling,” she said, crossing her arms. “Don’t you dare hurt her. We’re very fond of your head. Would hate to have to chop it off.”

Ling let out a low chuckle, nodding solemnly like she was swearing a sacred oath. “That’s not even on my list,” she said. And she meant it.

Sitting there, watching the way Orm’s friends rallied around her even when she wasn’t in the room, Ling’s heart warmed. Orm deserved this, people who loved her, protected her, teased her but never doubted her worth. Ling silently vowed she'd do everything she could to be one of those people too. The best one, if she could.

Before any of them could say more, a familiar voice cut through the chatter.

“What are you guys scheming about?” Orm stood at the edge of the table, brow arched, arms crossed in suspicion.

Kate immediately plastered on a too-innocent smile. “Oh, speak of the devil.”

Orm narrowed her eyes. “Whatever it is, don't scare my girlfriend off.”

Kate grinned wickedly. “Too late.”

Ling just smiled up at Orm, reaching out to hook her finger through Orm’s belt loop, tugging her closer. “Not scared,” she said simply, grinning up at her. “Maybe a little bullied, though.”

Orm rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide the small, fond smile tugging at her lips as she ruffled Ling’s hair lightly, much to the squealing horror of Kate, Prig, and Bam.

“Gross!” Kate gagged.

“Get a room!” Prig laughed.

Meanwhile, Bam covered her face dramatically, peeking through her fingers like she was witnessing a crime.

Orm just laughed, slinging her arm casually around Ling’s shoulders. “Jealous much?”

Kate shook her head, sighing theatrically. “We created a monster.”

“And she’s disgustingly in love,” Prig added.

“And adorable,” Bam concluded, shooting a thumbs-up toward Ling, who grinned cheekily.

Orm only rolled her eyes again, leaning down to press a quick kiss on Ling’s temple before dragging her away from the table. “C’mon, babe. Let's leave these losers to wallow in their single sadness.”

“Rude!” Prig shouted after them, laughing.

But Ling just chuckled.

Feeling light, warm, and completely, utterly content.

The late afternoon sun spilled gold over the streets as Ling and Orm strolled down the block, hand in hand, heading toward their favorite coffee shop to grab something before going home.

Orm, complaining about needing caffeine to survive another night of homework had practically dragged Ling here, not that Ling ever needed convincing when Orm looped their arms together and gave her that look.

Inside, the shop was cozy, humming with soft music and the hiss of the espresso machine. Orm kissed Ling on the cheek quickly… a casual, everyday thing now, before announcing, “Be right back, baby. Restroom.”

Ling chuckled and waved her off, stepping into line to order. She was scrolling absentmindedly on her phone when she felt a presence beside her, the kind of presence that was trying very hard to be noticed.

Ling looked up to find a brunette standing a little too close, twirling a lock of hair around her finger. She was pretty, in a polished, effortless kind of way. And wore a different school’s uniform.

“Hey,” the girl said, smiling with a confidence that made it clear she was used to people falling over themselves for her.

Ling raised an eyebrow, quietly wondering what this girl was here for.

“You’re Ling, right?” the brunette asked. “From the soccer tournament?”

Ling nodded politely. “If there’s only one player named Ling from the tournament, then yeah, that’s me.”

The brunette chuckled, feeling amused. “I watched your game,” she said, biting her lip a little. “You were... amazing.”

Ling smiled, offering a neutral, polite nod. “Thank you.”

The brunette leaned in just slightly, like she was sharing a secret. “You know, Ling,” she said, leaning closer. “You’re kinda my type. And I’m telling you….” she smirked, voice dropping lower, almost like a whisper. “I’m everybody’s type.”

“Yeah?” Ling paused for half a second, then smirked. “But not mine.”

The brunette blinked, taken aback for a split second but recovering with a sly smirk. “Oh? Then what is your type?”

Ling’s smirk deepened, easy and lazy and absolutely certain. She tilted her head, lowering her voice conspiratorially. “Blonde and bitchy.”

And right on cue, as if summoned by sheer force of will, Orm strutted out from the restroom, her hair swinging behind her, brow arching high the moment she saw the brunette lingering too close to her girlfriend.

Ling saw Orm clock the situation instantly. Her lips twitched in amusement. Without missing a beat, Orm sauntered right up, wrapped her fingers possessively around Ling’s hand, and gave the brunette a sugary-sweet smile that didn't reach her eyes.

“Baby,” Orm said pointedly, squeezing Ling’s hand. “Let’s go.”

Ling’s smile widened as she turned to Orm, lifting the cup holder with their drinks to show her. “Got our coffee, babe.”

Orm, still eyeing the brunette like a cat who had just won a staring contest, flipped her hair dramatically over her shoulder. “Good.”

And then, with an extra little smirk, she looped their fingers tighter and tugged Ling toward the door. Ling barely held back a laugh as they stepped into the street, the door swinging shut behind them. Orm, still radiating smugness like it was perfume, lifted her chin, completely victorious.

Ling tugged her closer by the hand, leaning down to murmur into her ear, “You’re so proud, huh?”

Orm didn’t miss a beat, her voice low and full of satisfaction. “Obviously. You’re mine.”

Ling let out a soft laugh, bumping their shoulders together. “And you’re mine,” she whispered back.

Orm beamed, her cheeks coloring slightly despite herself.

Hand in hand, coffee cups swinging between them, they wandered down the street with the sun dipping low behind them. Two girls, perfectly wrapped up in each other, in their own little world.

And Ling, glancing at Orm’s smug little grin and sparkling eyes, thought: Yeah. No spell needed. This, her, it’s always been real.

That afternoon became another quiet memory stitched into the endless thread of their days together. Small, easy moments that built something stronger than grand gestures ever could.

Orm’s hand stayed tightly laced with Ling’s all the way home, a silent, stubborn declaration to the world. And Ling, feeling the steady weight of Orm's fingers in hers, smiled to herself, soft, certain.

No amount of attention, no admiring glances, no shy confessions could ever pull her gaze away. Because at the end of the day, it had always been Orm.

It would always be Orm.

And she was quite sure that Orm knew that too, with the way she walked a little taller, her heart a little lighter, knowing she was the only girl Ling had eyes for.

Chapter Text

The room was wrapped in a gentle stillness, the only sounds the soft whir of the ceiling fan and the occasional rustle of sheets as they shifted to get comfortable. Orm lay sprawled against Ling’s chest, her head resting just below Ling’s collarbone, one hand lazily scrolling through her phone. Ling had a book open in one hand, but her eyes weren’t moving across the lines anymore. She was far more distracted by the rise and fall of Orm’s breathing, the way Orm absentmindedly traced tiny circles on her side with her thumb.

Ling tilted her head slightly to glance at Orm’s phone, a small smile tugging at her lips when she caught a glimpse of a photo. A rustic field, golden under the setting sun, a simple shrine standing proud in the background.

“That’s Kalasin,” Ling murmured, her voice soft, almost to herself.

Orm paused her scrolling immediately, looking up at Ling with quiet curiosity. “Kalasin?” she echoed.

Ling closed her book and set it aside, her hand instinctively brushing down Orm’s arm, grounding herself in the touch. “Yeah,” she said, her tone turning more tender. “That’s... where my mom’s from. She took me there several times. Simple town, but…” Her voice drifted off for a moment, caught somewhere between memory and emotion. “It always felt like home when she was there.”

Orm didn’t say anything, didn’t rush her. She just rested her chin lightly against Ling’s chest, letting her girlfriend's heartbeat fill the silence. Ling rarely talked about her mom, never out of avoidance, but as if the memories were treasures she held carefully, privately.

“I haven’t been back in a long time,” Ling continued, her voice almost a whisper now. “Feels like... if I go back, it’ll be too real that she's not there with me.”

Orm’s heart clenched at the rawness in Ling’s voice. She reached up, threading her fingers through Ling’s and squeezing gently.

“Then maybe you don’t have to go alone,” Orm said softly, looking up at her with a small, encouraging smile. “We should go. Just the two of us. This weekend.”

Ling blinked, the offer catching her off guard. She could see the sincerity in Orm’s eyes, the warmth, the willingness to hold this fragile part of her. A small, surprised laugh escaped her, low and fond.

“Only if you're ready for the real country life, city girl,” Ling teased, brushing the tip of Orm’s nose with hers playfully.

Orm grinned, all teeth and sparkling eyes. “I’ll survive. As long as you’re my tour guide.” She paused, her voice dropping into something softer, more earnest. “Besides, I know you’ll take care of me.”

Ling's chest tightened in the best way, the way it always did when Orm said things like that, so simple yet so full of trust. She leaned down and pressed a kiss against Orm’s forehead, letting her lips linger a little longer than necessary.

“I always will,” Ling whispered against her skin.

Orm hummed, satisfied, and nestled closer, sliding her arm around Ling’s waist and tugging herself impossibly nearer. Ling chuckled under her breath, wrapping both arms around her, holding her close as their breathing synced, slow and steady.

The world outside faded. Plans could wait until tomorrow. Tonight, it was just the two of them, cocooned in soft sheets, quiet promises, and the steady beat of Ling’s heart against Orm’s ear.

And somewhere in the stillness, both of them fell asleep smiling, already dreaming of a journey they would take together.

The sun was just beginning to climb when their plane touched down, casting a warm golden hue across the landscape. By the time they left the tiny regional airport, the air had taken on the slow, lingering stillness of the countryside, a rhythm so different from the city’s constant buzz.

Orm adjusted her cap against the light breeze, her eyes wide with wonder as she looked around. The world here felt bigger somehow, vast open fields stretching into the horizon. The occasional temple spire glinted in the distance, and beyond that, the familiar haze of a rural morning.

They had rented a small motorbike, with Ling at the front and Orm clinging to her from behind, arms around Ling's waist. It was an old bike, a little rattly, but it felt perfect for today, something simple, something real.

Ling caught Orm's reflection in the mirror. That bright, curious smile lighting up her face, and felt a bloom of warmth in her chest that no sun could match.

“You look like a kid in a candy store,” Ling teased over her shoulder, grinning as she revved the engine.

“Because this is like candy!” Orm laughed, resting her chin lightly on Ling’s shoulder. “Everything’s so open. It’s so... peaceful.”

Ling’s smile softened. Peace. That’s exactly what this place always gave her. Even now, even after all the years that had passed.

Their first stop was a small temple on the edge of town. It wasn’t grand or imposing, just a humble structure with whitewashed walls and a golden Buddha seated serenely inside. The scent of incense lingered in the air, mingling with the crispness of morning.

Ling helped Orm remove her shoes before stepping inside, and for a moment, she just stood there, taking it all in. Memories flooded back, her tiny feet pattering across the stone steps, her mother's gentle hand resting on her head as they bowed together.

“This was her favorite temple,” Ling said quietly, almost more to herself than to Orm. “She used to bring me here when we came to visit this town. Said the peace here was good for the soul.”

Orm didn’t speak. She simply slipped her hand into Ling’s and gave it a small, grounding squeeze. They knelt together for a moment, offering silent prayers. Ling didn’t wish for anything, not really. Instead, she just whispered a soft thank you for this life, this love, this moment… and Orm.

Next, they rode out toward a small lake tucked between a stretch of fields. The water was clear and still, the surface shimmering under the gentle touch of the breeze. Ling parked the bike under a shady tree, and they walked the last stretch hand in hand.

“I used to swim here with the neighborhood kids,” Ling said, a nostalgic chuckle escaping her. “Half the time we were supposed to be doing chores, but we’d sneak off and race each other across the water.”

Orm's eyes widened in delight. “You? Sneaking off? Breaking the rules?” she teased, giving Ling a playful nudge with her shoulder.

Ling huffed, pretending to be offended. “I was a very responsible child, I'll have you know.”

Orm snorted. “Sure you were. I bet you were the leader of all the trouble.”

Ling gave her an exaggeratedly stern look, which only made Orm giggle harder.

They sat down near the edge of the lake, toes skimming over the cool grass. It was simple and perfect, the kind of moment that didn't need anything more than shared laughter and the feeling of the earth beneath them.

Later, they found an old food stall near the main road, a faded sign still hanging proudly, advertising grilled chicken and sticky rice. It hadn't changed much, Ling realized with a pang, the same rickety tables, the same cheerful old man behind the counter, now grayer but still shouting greetings to every customer.

They ordered plates of grilled chicken, papaya salad, and fresh sticky rice wrapped in banana leaves. Sitting on the low plastic chairs, they dug in with their hands, laughing when Orm struggled with the spicy salad.

“ Hot! ” Orm gasped, fanning her mouth.

Ling smirked around a mouthful of chicken. “Welcome to Isan food, babe. No mercy.”

“You could've warned me,” Orm whined, pouting dramatically.

“I thought you liked adventure?” Ling teased, reaching over to swipe a bit of rice onto Orm’s plate before handing her a bottle of water.

Orm narrowed her eyes playfully while drinking the water. “This is betrayal. I'm taking notes.”

They laughed, mouths full and eyes crinkling at the corners, drawing a few fond glances from the locals who sat nearby.

Somewhere between the second helping of sticky rice and Ling recounting how she once fell into the lake while trying to impress the older kids, Orm found herself just... staring.

Not at the food, not at the lake, not even at the quaintness of the town, but at Ling. The way her eyes lit up when she spoke. The way she smiled without reservation here, more open, more at ease.

It was a side of Ling that not everyone got to see, and the fact that Orm was here, trusted with these memories, made her chest ache in the best way. She reached out, tucking a stray strand of hair behind Ling’s ear. Ling paused mid-story, blinking at her.

Orm grinned.”You’re cute when you get all nostalgic, you know?”

Ling rolled her eyes, cheeks dusted with a faint pink. “Don’t make me push you into the lake.”

Orm laughed, bold and bright, and Ling laughed too, helpless against it.

And under the vast, open sky of Kalasin, surrounded by fields and memories, they built a new memory, just the two of them.

By the time the sun began to dip below the horizon, casting the whole town in a dusky glow, Ling and Orm found themselves at the night market. The streets were alive with the slow, unhurried energy of locals and visitors alike. Vendors calling out soft greetings, children weaving between stalls, the smoky scent of grilled meat blending with the sweetness of fresh fruit.

Orm clutched Ling’s hand, her eyes darting everywhere with excitement. Lanterns strung across the street swayed gently in the evening breeze, their golden lights flickering like fireflies.

“This is amazing,” Orm said, her voice full of wonder. “It feels like... like a dream.”

Ling smiled, steering them gently toward a quieter corner where a small, cozy café set up a few simple tables outside. Wooden chairs worn smooth with time, mismatched tablecloths fluttering in the breeze. It wasn’t fancy, but it was perfect.

They ordered two sodas in old glass bottles and a plate of local sweets, sitting down at one of the rickety tables under a stretch of open sky. The night was just cool enough that Ling shrugged out of her jacket and draped it over the back of her chair.

“My mom used to love it here,” Ling said after a while, her voice softer now, carrying something unspoken beneath it. She stared out at the slow-moving crowd, a wistful curve to her lips. “She said there was nothing better than sitting back and watching life pass by. Hearing the noise, feeling the air. It made her feel... connected, somehow.”

Orm leaned in a little closer, resting her elbow on the table, chin propped in her hand as she listened. The soft glow of the café lights haloed Ling’s face, turning her features golden and tender.

Ling went quiet after that, the weight of memories thick in her chest. She hadn’t expected it, the sudden, sharp ache of missing her, the way this place made the absence feel both heavier and sweeter all at once. She dropped her gaze to the tabletop, struggling for a breath.

Orm didn’t say anything. She didn’t need to. She simply reached out, sliding her hand across the rough wooden table until her fingers brushed Ling’s. Gently, she laced them together, grounding Ling with nothing more than her touch.

Ling lifted her head slowly, offering a small, grateful smile that trembled at the edges. She squeezed Orm’s hand back, letting herself lean into the comfort.

For a moment, all the noise of the market faded, leaving just the two of them in their little world.

Ling’s voice was barely above a whisper when she spoke next. “If my mom were still here,” she said, blinking up at the stars beginning to pierce the sky, “She would’ve loved you.”

Orm’s heart twisted, and before she could stop it, her eyes blurred with tears she hadn’t expected either. She swallowed around the lump in her throat, squeezing Ling’s hand tighter.

“I hope she knows I love you too,” Orm whispered back, her voice thick with emotion.

Ling lifted her head, pressing a kiss to the back of Orm’s hand. Quick, tender, full of more feeling than words could carry. They stayed like that for a long while, just watching the night unfold around them. The stars multiplying, the chatter of the market a soft backdrop to their shared silence.

Later, they wandered down the street again, shoulders brushing, sharing a simple ice cream cone from a tiny cart. They passed the soda bottle back and forth, laughing when Orm tried to balance it on her head and failed spectacularly.

“So,” Orm said between giggles, stealing another lick of ice cream, “Future travels. Where are you taking me next, country girl?”

Ling pretended to think hard, tapping her chin dramatically. “Hmm. How about... the mountains? We'll camp. No phone signal. Just you, me, and mosquitoes.”

Orm gave her a horrified look. “You're trying to kill me.”

Ling laughed, a real, bright sound, and Orm thought she’d do anything to keep hearing it for the rest of her life.

They kept strolling slowly, as if neither of them wanted the night to end. And after a while, their conversation turned softer, more serious in that gentle way it sometimes did when they were alone like this.

“Do you want to continue your study here?” Orm asked, tilting her head toward Ling. “In Thailand, after we graduate?”

Ling hummed thoughtfully, swinging their joined hands between them. “Yeah... I think so. Being here, it’s like... I can feel her a little more. Like she’s not so far away.”

“Then I’ll stay too. We’ll make new memories. Together.” Orm smiled warmly, bumping their shoulders together. “But in Bangkok, though. Not here.”

Ling gave her a sidelong look, teasing, “I thought you were ready for more country life, city girl.”

Orm huffed dramatically. “I need a place where air conditioning is involved.”

Ling laughed. “As you wish, princess.”

Orm stuck her tongue out, and Ling laughed again, the night wrapping around them like a soft, invisible blanket.

Later, after they returned to their small guesthouse, Orm scrolled through her phone, lingering on a photo she had snapped earlier. A wide shot of the market under the soft purple sky, lanterns glowing warmly. Without overthinking it, she posted it with a simple caption:

“Found new memories in an old town.”

Ling saw the post when she pretended not to. She didn’t like many things on social media, didn’t leave comments, it wasn’t her style. But she quietly saved the photo to her phone, tucking it away like a secret, like something too precious to explain.

Lying there in the quiet of the guesthouse, Orm curled into Ling’s side, both of them smelling faintly of the night air, the market, and sweet ice cream.

And Ling, feeling Orm's breathing slow against her shoulder, closed her eyes and thought: this was happiness. Quiet, simple, real.

She tightened her arm around Orm, pressing a silent promise into the night.

Home wasn’t just a place. It was a person.

And Ling had found hers.

Chapter Text

Summer break arrived faster than they expected. Orm had already pictured six perfect weeks with Ling. Exploring new cities around Thailand, dragging Ling to the beach, hiking up mountains, maybe even visiting Kalasin again.

But her parents had different plans. Instead of lazy days with Ling, she was booked for a family trip to Canada. Two whole goddamn weeks without Ling. Orm knew she was being dramatic, but she absolutely didn’t care.

Originally, her parents wanted her to spend the entire summer abroad, but after a week of stubborn protesting (and a little emotional blackmail), she managed to cut it down to just two weeks. A tiny victory. Still felt like a lifetime.

Now here she was, already on her way to the airport, silently sulking. Her parents were waiting for her in Canada and would pick her up at Toronto Pearson International Airport when she landed.

The car ride to the airport felt shorter than it should have been.

Orm sat sideways in the passenger seat, legs tucked up, fiddling with the sleeve of her hoodie. Every few seconds, she would glance at Ling, as if committing her profile to memory. The sharp line of her jaw, the way her lashes caught the late morning light. Ling kept one hand steady on the steering wheel, the other resting loosely on Orm’s thigh, pretending not to notice how heavy the air between them had gotten.

“You sure you won’t just sneak into my suitcase?” Orm asked, voice half-playful, half-pleading.

Ling glanced at her, lips twitching into a smirk. “I'd love to, but your ten pairs of shoes already took up all the room.”

Orm let out a dramatic sigh, slumping lower into her seat. “I could make space.”

“You won’t even share your fries. You’re not sharing your suitcase.”

Orm huffed and crossed her arms, but the corner of her mouth lifted. She hated goodbyes, even temporary ones. Especially when it meant leaving Ling behind for two whole weeks.

When they pulled up to the drop-off zone, Ling parked and turned off the engine. The silence that followed was loud, thick with all the things they didn't want to say.

Ling got out first, grabbing Orm's suitcase from the back. Orm dragged her feet around the car, eyes glossy but determined to stay composed. She hated being seen as weak, especially in public, but her heart was pounding like she’d just finished a race.

They stood by the curb for a moment, people bustling around them, but it all felt distant.

“You’ll call me as soon as you miss me, right?” Orm said, reaching for Ling's hand, intertwining their fingers.

Ling gave a low chuckle, squeezing her hand. “So… the minute your plane takes off?”

Orm smiled, trying not to tear up. She leaned into Ling’s arms, wrapping her arms around her tightly. Ling hugged her back, pressing a kiss into the top of her head. 

“Two weeks will fly by,” Ling murmured. “And when you get back, I’ll still be here. Waiting.”

“You better be,” Orm mumbled against her shoulder.

Ling pulled back just enough to look at her. “I will. You couldn’t get rid of me even if you tried.”

Orm rolled her eyes, pretending to be unimpressed, but the way her fingers clung to Ling’s jacket betrayed her.

The boarding call crackled over the speakers. Orm groaned quietly. “I hate this.”

Ling leaned in, brushing her lips against Orm’s cheek in a quick, stolen kiss. “I’ll text you the second you’re in the air,” she promised. “Now go. Before I embarrass myself and start running after you like a drama heroine.”

Orm laughed, even as her heart ached. She grabbed her suitcase handle and started walking backward toward the entrance, refusing to take her eyes off Ling.

“Don't fall for any other girls, okay?” she called out.

Ling grinned, hands in her pockets, looking completely at home in the chaos of the airport. “Only got eyes for one bratty blonde.”

Orm laughed again, a little watery, and blew her a kiss before finally turning around. Ling stood there until she couldn't see Orm anymore, the imprint of her hand still warm against her own.

Two weeks.

She could survive two weeks.

...Probably.

The first few hours after Orm’s plane took off were tolerable. Ling kept herself busy, grabbing coffee, walking around the mall, pretending that she wasn’t glancing at her phone every two minutes.

It didn’t take long for Orm’s name to light up her screen.

[Orm]: Finally in the air. Miss me yet?

Ling chuckled, thumbs flying across the keyboard.

[Ling]: Very. And the coffee I just got tastes worse without you stealing sips.

[Orm]: You love it when I steal your coffee. Don’t lie. Also, here, look at the sky. It’s prettier than the photos. [Image Attached: A view of the cotton candy clouds through her airplane window].

Ling smiled at the picture for longer than she should have, before snapping a photo of her sad-looking sandwich.

[Ling]: This is my emotional state without you. [Image Attached: half-eaten sandwich looking pitiful]

[Orm]: Idiot. So dramatic. I love it.

They kept texting, even during Orm's layover hours. When Orm finally landed at her destination, it was late at night in Thailand. Ling was already in bed, lying sideways with her phone illuminating her face in the dark. Her screen buzzed with a FaceTime call.

“Hey, you still awake?” Orm's voice came through, a little static but sweet as ever.

Ling grinned sleepily at the screen. “Barely. But for you? Always.”

Orm’s face lit up, hair messy from travel, a sleepy smile tugging at her lips. “I’m in my hotel now,” she whispered, as if not wanting to disturb anyone, even though she was alone.

“You look tired,” Ling murmured, propping her head up with one hand.

“I am,” Orm admitted. “But mostly, I miss you.”

Ling's heart gave a stupid, painful little thud. “I miss you too, baby.”

Orm pouted at the camera. “I wish you were here. It’s so pretty. You’d love it.”

“Send me more photos tomorrow,” Ling said, voice low. “Show me what you're seeing.”

“Okay.” Orm’s pout turned into a shy smile. “You send me photos too.”

“Of what? My boring place?”

“Of you,” Orm said without hesitation, her tone turning just a little softer. “I just... wanna see you.”

Ling bit her lip, feeling her face heat up even though no one else was there to see. “Cute,” she teased.

“Shut up and send selfies,” Orm shot back, making them both laugh.

The call stretched for almost an hour, neither wanting to hang up, even when they were yawning between sentences. 

And the next morning, it became their routine. Tiny snapshots of their days sent across thousands of miles.

[Orm]: [Image Attached: A beautiful garden with tulips blooming in a swirl of colors.] Reminded me of you. Pretty and a little chaotic.

[Ling]: [Image Attached: A tiny, grumpy-looking cat from a café Ling stopped by.] Reminded me of you. Cute but ready to bite me.

[Orm]: RUDE. Also accurate.

Ling snorted in the middle of the café, drawing a few curious glances. She didn’t care. Every text from Orm felt like a jolt of sunlight through the otherwise ordinary day.

At night, they'd FaceTime again. Orm bundled up in sweaters because the city she visited was colder, Ling in tank tops because Thailand stayed hot year-round.

“Show me your view,” Ling would say, and Orm would twirl around her hotel room dramatically.

“Show me your face,” Orm would counter, and Ling would comply, making dumb faces to make her laugh.

And sometimes, when the night stretched too quiet, Orm would whisper. “I really, really wish you were here.”

And Ling would smile at the screen, tracing her fingers over the image as if she could reach through it. “I’ll be there next time,” she'd promise. “You should enjoy your time with your family.”

When Orm fell asleep mid-call one night, the camera tilted awkwardly sideways, capturing her curled up in bed, breathing steady, Ling didn’t have the heart to hang up. She just watched her for a while longer, smiling like a fool in the dark, before finally whispering goodnight and ending the call.

Ling hadn’t realized before just how deeply she could miss someone. But now, it was obvious. Every minute without Orm felt just a little emptier than the last.

Over the next few days, Orm took the chance to explore the city. She knew it was only a matter of time before her parents, especially her father, would drag her along to check in on the family business. It had always been the same every summer break: one country after another, meetings she barely understood, and polite dinners she had to sit through with a smile.

Fortunately, for the first few days after arriving in Toronto, Orm’s parents let her take it easy. No meetings, no family obligations, just time to explore the city. She should have been excited. A new city, different air, cool streets to explore. But part of her heart had stubbornly stayed behind in Thailand with Ling. 

Everywhere she went, she thought of Ling. She strolled around downtown Toronto, wandered into cute cafes, admired the wide streets and shiny shops, snapping photos of anything that caught her eye. The first batch of pictures came in by noon Thailand time.

[Orm]: [Image Attached: A row of colorful townhouses under a bright blue sky.] I found your future vacation home. Cute enough?

Ling, stuck in her apartment, smiled like an idiot.

[Ling]: Only if you live there with me. Otherwise, refund.

Later that afternoon, Orm sent a picture of a sunset bleeding over a skyline.

[Orm]: [Image attached: sunset between two skyscrapers] Wish you were here to see this with me.

[Ling]: Looks pretty... but not as pretty as you.

Orm grinned at her screen, a goofy smile she was glad nobody on the street could see. Meanwhile, Ling kept sending photos too. But hers were much more... Ling-style. Mostly food.

[Ling]: [Image Attached: A massive plate of mango sticky rice.] Look, your favorite. Bet you’re drooling.

And a few minutes later:

[Ling]: [Image Attached: A half-eaten spicy snack.] This snack just burnt my tongue. Send help. (Or kisses.)

[Orm]: I leave for a few days, and you’re already suffering? Tragic. Kisses are expensive, by the way. You have to wait till I’m home.

The teasing never stopped. Sometimes Orm sent mirror selfies from her hotel room, casual but obviously posed, with captions like:

[Orm]: Still hot without you?

Ling’s reply came fast and without hesitation:

[Ling]: Still mine, obviously.

Orm lay on her hotel bed afterward, grinning like a fool, kicking her bare feet against the mattress like a teenager in love, which she was.

Their days quickly settled into a routine: texts in the morning, photos during the day, voice notes and video calls at night. Ling would sometimes get little voice notes from Orm, whispered because she was in a café or walking along busy streets.

“Babe, you’d love this little bakery. Smells like cinnamon and butter and evil temptation.”

“I wish you were here, teerak. We could’ve tried every pastry together.”

Ling saved every voice note without thinking, replaying them when she missed Orm just a little too much. At night, they’d video call. Even with the time difference, they made it work. Ling would stay up later, Orm would wake up earlier, whatever it took. And sometimes Orm would be tucked under the covers, the screen shaky as she burrowed into her pillows.

“Why are you whispering?” Ling asked during one call, amused.

“Because my parents are next door,” Orm whispered dramatically, “And if they hear me giggling like an idiot at midnight, they'll confiscate my phone like I’m thirteen.”

Ling laughed, rubbing her eyes. “You are kinda acting thirteen.”

“Excuse me,” Orm said with fake offense, “I’m not.”

Ling yawned so wide halfway through the call, she almost dropped her phone.

Orm caught it instantly. “Aww, look at you. Sleepy baby.”

Ling grumbled, eyes half-closing. “Can you come home already?”

“I wish you were here,” Orm said quietly, voice softer. “My bed feels too cold without you.”

“Same here.” Ling pressed the phone closer to her ear, as if that could bridge the distance. “You’re such a baby though.”

“I’m your baby,” Orm corrected.

Ling smirked sleepily. “Yeah. My baby.”

For a while, they didn’t even say much. Just stayed on the call, breathing and listening to each other’s sleepy murmurs, reluctant to hang up.

Sometimes Ling would show Orm random things on her camera. Her messy kitchen, her half-eaten snack, the new book she bought. Sometimes Orm would turn her camera toward the window, showing Ling the streetlights glowing outside, people bustling along the sidewalks even at midnight.

One night, Orm turned the camera to her own face again and whispered, “I can't wait to come back and annoy you in person.”

Ling, already half-asleep, mumbled, “You’re not annoying.”

Orm smiled so wide it hurt her cheeks. “Yeah?” she teased lightly. “You like it when I steal your fries and take over your bed?”

“Love it,” Ling muttered, almost inaudible.

Orm’s heart squeezed painfully at the sleepy confession. She didn’t even tease back this time. Instead, she whispered, “I love you too, Ling.”

The line went quiet for a second, and then Ling’s soft breathing filled Orm’s ear. She had fallen asleep with the call still going. Orm stayed on for a long while after that, smiling into the dark, holding her phone like a tether, before finally whispering:

“Goodnight, teerak.”

And ending the call.

The city buzzed outside the car window, but Orm barely heard it.

She leaned her forehead against the cool glass, watching the streets of Toronto blur past. Cafes filled with people, bikers weaving through traffic, the occasional flash of color from some mural. It was lively. It was beautiful. And yet, all Orm could think about was Ling.

The past few days had been a dream of playful texts, sleepy video calls, silly voice notes.
Ling’s voice had made her laugh even when she was tired. Ling’s photos had made her smile even when she felt a little lost.

But today... something felt heavier. Orm straightened as the car pulled into a sleek building’s parking lot. Her father adjusted his tie, glancing at her.

“Come on, Orm,” he said briskly. “You should see this. It’s your future.”

Orm blinked. “What do you mean?”

They walked through the glossy lobby, her father's voice calm, casual, but every word landed in Orm’s chest like a rock.

“You’ll be spending more time here after graduation,” he said.

Orm stopped walking for a second. “Wait... what?”

Her father gave her a brief smile, the kind that said this was not up for debate. “You’ll study here. Your mother and I have looked at the best universities. Everything’s arranged.”

Orm felt like the air had been knocked out of her. “But... I thought I got to choose the university I want? I want to stay in Thailand.”

“You can choose your career later. Right now, this is what's best for you. For the family,” her father said. His tone was firm, final. “You just need to graduate.”

Orm’s throat tightened. She wanted to protest more, to scream that she didn’t want this, that she had plans, her plans, with Ling. But standing there in that cold, gleaming lobby, she realized arguing would only make it worse.

So she stayed quiet. Numb.

The rest of the day blurred. Meetings. Tours. Smiling faces she didn’t recognize. Handshakes. Discussions about business expansion, profits, futures. All the while, Orm nodded and smiled like she was supposed to, but inside, she was somewhere else entirely.

With Ling. At that café she’d found. At the beach they’d promised to visit this summer.

She moved on auto-pilot, feeling smaller with every passing hour. By the time she returned to the hotel that night, her legs ached and her head was pounding. She flopped onto the bed, staring at the ceiling, feeling the weight of everything settle on her chest.

Without thinking, she grabbed her phone and called Ling. It rang twice before Ling’s familiar, sleepy voice answered, video popping up. Ling was sprawled on her bed, hair messy, one hand propping up her head. She smiled the moment she saw Orm.

“Hey, teerak. Long day?”

Orm tried to smile back but knew it was weak. “Yeah. Just... a lot of family stuff.”

Ling’s eyes softened instantly. She sat up a little straighter. “Want to talk about it?”

Orm shook her head quickly, forcing another smile. “Nah. Just tired.”

Ling studied her for a moment, quiet. Then, with that gentle way of hers, she said, “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. Just know I’m here.”

Orm’s heart squeezed so hard it almost hurt. God, how did Ling do that? How did she make her feel safe with just a few words?

“You're such a sap,” Orm mumbled, burying half her face into the pillow to hide how red her ears were.

Ling grinned. “You love it.”

“Maybe,” Orm mumbled, barely audible.

There was a beat of silence where they just looked at each other through the screen, letting the quiet fill in everything Orm didn’t know how to say.

Finally, Ling yawned, covering it with the back of her hand. “When you get back, we’re gonna spend so much time together you’ll be sick of me.”

Orm smiled genuinely this time. “Impossible.”

Ling grinned wider, her voice playful. “Bet. I’m gonna stick to you like glue. No escaping.”

“Good,” Orm whispered.

Ling raised a teasing eyebrow. “What was that?”

Orm rolled onto her back, laughing tiredly. “I said good! You better.”

Ling laughed too, bright and warm even through the screen. And just like that, the heaviness in Orm’s chest lifted, just a little.

Maybe she couldn’t control everything. Maybe she couldn’t stop her father from making plans for her. But at least for now, she still had Ling. Stubborn, sweet, ridiculous Ling. Waiting for her at home.

And for tonight, that was enough.

Chapter Text

The rest of her holiday in Canada passed in a blur.

After the meeting with her father, everything felt muted to Orm. The bright city streets, the polite dinners, the endless small talk with family friends. She smiled when she was supposed to. She answered questions when she had to. But inside, it was like her heart had packed up and gone home without her.

And now, she was finally at the airport. Alone.

Her parents had stayed behind to tie up business loose ends. It didn’t bother her. In fact, she was relieved. She just wanted to get on the plane, go home, and forget this whole trip ever happened.

Orm hugged her carry-on to her chest as she sat at the gate, staring blankly ahead. Thailand. Ling. Her friends. That was what she wanted. That was where she belonged.

But the weight of her father’s words clung to her, heavier than her suitcase.

“You’ll study here. Everything is settled.”

“You just need to graduate.”

Her throat tightened, and she blinked hard, willing the burning in her eyes to go away. Nearby, a young couple walked past, hand in hand, laughing about something she couldn’t hear. Orm's chest ached at the sight. She could almost feel Ling’s hand sliding into hers, the easy way Ling always made her feel anchored, safe.

She unlocked her phone without thinking and opened a message to Ling. Her thumbs hovered over the keyboard before she started typing: “What if I had to leave again... for longer?”

She stared at it for a long moment. Then sighed. And deleted it. She didn’t want to worry Ling. Not yet. She couldn’t even wrap her own mind around it.

Instead, she tapped out a different, safer message: “Boarding soon. Can’t wait to see you.”

She hit send before she could second-guess herself. The announcement to board her flight echoed through the terminal, sharp and sterile. Orm stood up slowly, slinging her bag over her shoulder, her heart heavier than her steps.

As she filed into the line and made her way to the plane, she stole one last glance at the bright airport lights, the gleaming floors, the wide windows showing a grey Canadian sky. It didn’t feel like her future. It barely even felt real.

Once seated on the plane, Orm leaned her head against the window, pulling her hoodie up to shield herself from the world. 

She closed her eyes, pretending she could sleep. But even as the engines roared to life and the plane soared into the sky, she knew she wasn’t really resting. She was just floating somewhere between what she wanted and what she was expected to become.

And all she could do now was hope. Hope that when she landed, when she saw Ling’s face again, something would make sense.

Something would feel like home again.

The moment the plane touched down in Bangkok, Orm felt it. Something inside her chest loosened, like a breath she had been holding finally let go. The familiar humidity clung to her skin the second she stepped out of the air-conditioned jet bridge. The sounds, the smells, the language, it all wrapped around her like a worn, beloved blanket.

Still, her steps were slow as she dragged her luggage behind her. Her body ached from the long flight, her mind still cloudy, but her heart raced. She pushed through immigration, then baggage claim, her eyes scanning through the crowd beyond the sliding glass doors.

And there, standing near the front, shifting nervously from one foot to the other, was Ling. Orm froze for a second. Ling held a small bouquet of flowers a little awkwardly, like she wasn’t sure if she should be holding it up or down. She wore a plain white T-shirt and jeans, her hair slightly messy like she had rushed here, but her smile—

Her smile was everything.

Orm felt her chest twist painfully in the best way. She pulled her suitcase faster, half-walking, half-running, until she was right in front of Ling.

“You came,” Orm breathed, the words stupid and obvious, but she couldn’t think of anything else.

Ling chuckled, a little out of breath herself. “Of course I came.” She held out the flowers like an offering, her fingers brushing Orm’s as she handed them over.

“I thought you might need something... warm to come back to,” Ling added, her voice shy but steady.

“Thank you,” Orm smirked as she took them. “Thought you’re allergic to flowers.”

Ling grinned, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “A little sacrifice won’t hurt,” she said, like it was the easiest thing in the world, like Orm was always worth it.

Orm’s heart thudded against her ribs. Without thinking, she dropped her suitcase and threw her arms around Ling’s neck, burying her face into her shoulder. Ling staggered a little but caught her easily, wrapping both arms around Orm’s waist, pulling her close. Tighter. As if she could somehow close the two weeks of distance in a single hug.

“I missed you,” Orm whispered, her voice muffled by Ling’s T-shirt.

Ling rested her chin lightly against Orm’s hair. “I missed you more.”

They stood there like that, in the middle of the arrivals area, uncaring about the passersby, the noise, the announcements blaring overhead. For Orm, it was as if everything else melted away. The anxiety, the expectations, the ache of what might come later.

Right now, she was here. 

With Ling.

With the only person who ever made her feel truly home.

After a long moment, Orm reluctantly pulled back, only far enough to look up at Ling’s face. Ling’s thumb brushed lightly along Orm’s cheekbone, her touch gentle, almost reverent.

“You look tired,” Ling said softly.

“You look like everything I missed,” Orm shot back, grinning, a little teary.

Ling laughed. A low, easy sound that vibrated warmly through Orm’s chest. And Orm swore she wouldn’t get tired of hearing it.

“Come on,” Ling said, grabbing Orm’s suitcase with one hand and slipping the other into Orm’s fingers. “Let’s go home.”

Orm squeezed Ling’s hand tightly, pressing the bouquet to her chest.

Maybe everything in her life felt uncertain. Maybe the future terrified her. But right now, Ling was here. And for now, that was enough.

Later that afternoon, they ended up at Orm’s house. The house felt strangely quiet since her parents weren’t back from Canada yet. But somehow, it didn’t feel lonely.

The sun was starting to set, casting a golden shimmer across the backyard pool. The water rippled gently in the warm breeze. Orm kicked off her shoes and wandered barefoot to the edge. Ling followed without a word, slipping down onto the stone ledge and dipping her feet into the water.

“Come here,” Ling said, tapping the space beside her.

Without thinking, Orm sat down with her back naturally resting against Ling’s chest. Ling had her jeans rolled up to the knees, feet dipping into the cool water.

Ling’s arms wrapped loosely around her, and Orm sighed. A soft, shivery breath, feeling herself finally, truly exhale. Orm leaned her head back, letting it rest on Ling’s shoulder, feeling the steady rise and fall of Ling’s breathing behind her.

Every little touch, the way Ling’s hand absentmindedly traced slow, lazy patterns along her arm, made Orm melt deeper into the moment. No words were needed. The quiet buzz of cicadas, the soft splash of water, and the muted scent of summer around them filled the space.

Ling shifted slightly, letting her chin rest lightly on top of Orm’s head. “You smell like sunshine,” she mumbled, voice low and warm.

Orm snorted. “I am the sunshine.”

“True. My sunshine,” Ling grinned, squeezing Orm’s hand.

Orm tilted her face up slightly, catching Ling’s eyes.

God, how she missed her.

Not just missed, needed her, like something vital she had forgotten she couldn’t live without.

The warmth of Ling’s body behind her, the solid beat of her heart, the way their breathing slowly synced together, it was grounding in a way nothing else had been lately.

Orm trailed her fingers lightly across the surface of the water. The small ripples mirrored the ones running through her heart. Neither of them said anything at first. There was no need. Ling leaned forward just slightly, resting her chin lightly on Orm’s shoulder. Her hair tickled against Orm’s skin, and Orm smiled without meaning to.

“Feels good to be home, huh?” Ling murmured.

Orm closed her eyes, letting the words sink into her bones. Home. Yeah. Home wasn’t really a place, was it?

“It feels better with you here,” Orm said, her voice soft, almost shy.

Ling chuckled, a low vibration against Orm’s back. “I’m flattered,” she teased. “I thought maybe you missed your dog more.”

Orm laughed, the sound light and easy in the open air. “Maybe. But you're softer to hug.”

Ling squeezed her waist playfully. “Told you I'm good for something.”

Orm tilted her head, letting it rest against Ling’s. For a while, they just sat like that, watching the sky fade from gold to pink to deep velvet blue, their feet swaying lazily in the water.

Orm wanted to freeze the moment, bottle it up, and keep it forever. She wanted to tell Ling everything. The fear gnawing at her, the words her father had said. The part of her that felt like it might have to choose between everything she wanted and everything expected of her.

But... not yet. Not tonight.

Ling made everything feel lighter. Simpler. And Orm just wanted to stay like this a little longer, with Ling’s arms around her, the world slowing down, no decisions to make, no futures to dread.

Just the moment now. Just the warmth.

Ling pressed a kiss to the side of her head, casual but achingly tender. “You’re quiet,” she murmured.

Orm smiled faintly, squeezing Ling’s hand where it rested against her stomach. “Just... happy,” she whispered.

And it wasn’t a lie. At least, not all of it.

Ling smiled against her skin. “Good. You deserve to be.”

Orm squeezed her eyes shut briefly, breathing her in. The clean scent of Ling’s shampoo, the faint saltiness of pool water, the quiet steadiness of her love.

If Orm could live in this moment forever, she would.

For a moment, they just smiled at each other, that kind of quiet smile only shared by two people who knew they were exactly where they were meant to be. Orm’s heart squeezed painfully sweet inside her chest.

Slowly, Ling dipped her head down. Orm didn’t move. She didn’t want to.

Ling’s lips brushed against hers, feather-light at first. Orm responded by leaning in, closing the tiny gap between them. The kiss deepened just a little, still tender, still slow. More about being close than anything else.

When they finally pulled apart, Orm let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. She tucked her head back under Ling’s chin, wrapping their joined hands tighter against her chest.

Ling’s voice was a low murmur above her. “I missed you so much.”

Orm smiled against her skin, whispering back, “You have no idea.”

For now, that was enough. For now, Orm just wanted to stay here, in Ling’s arms, with nothing but the soft summer breeze and the steady beat of Ling’s heart keeping time with hers.

After their kiss by the pool, Orm stood and grabbed Ling’s hand, tugging her gently toward the house. “Come on,” she said, a playful glint in her eyes. “I got something for you.”

Curious, Ling followed her inside, their wet footprints trailing behind them on the tiles.

Orm led her to her room and rummaged through her suitcase, cheeks flushing a little with excitement. She turned around, holding out a small box with a shy smile.

“I got us these,” Orm said, opening the box to reveal two delicate matching bracelets, simple but beautiful, a thin silver chain with a small charm shaped like a crescent moon, and a sun.

“I want us to wear matching stuff,” Orm said, suddenly feeling a little shy under Ling’s gaze.

Ling's smile softened immediately. She reached out and took one bracelet from the box. “They’re cute,” she said warmly, and without hesitation, she carefully clasped the bracelet around Orm’s wrist first, her fingers brushing lightly over Orm’s skin.

Orm watched her, heart thudding wildly for reasons she didn’t even want to question. When Ling finished, Orm picked up the other bracelet and returned the gesture, fastening it around Ling’s wrist with clumsy, eager fingers.

“There,” Orm said, satisfied. “Now we match.”

Ling turned her wrist this way and that, watching how the charm caught the light. “I love it,” she said simply, and Orm’s heart gave a helpless little flip.

“And…” Orm said, reaching into her suitcase again, “Got you this too.”

She pulled out a hoodie, soft, oversized, and in Ling’s favorite shade of navy blue.

Ling raised an eyebrow, chuckling as she took it. “To make it up to me for stealing all my hoodies?”

Orm grinned, cocky. “I’ll steal that too when the time comes.”

Ling laughed, shaking her head in mock defeat. “Might as well steal it now and save the trouble.”

“Nope,” Orm said stubbornly, crossing her arms. “You have to wear it first. Let it smell like you.”

Ling looked at her with an amused twinkle in her eyes, but she didn’t argue. Instead, she slipped the hoodie on over her T-shirt, tugging it down over her hips.

“Okay,” Ling said, holding her arms out dramatically. “How do I look?”

Orm smiled, feeling a ridiculous amount of happiness bubbling in her chest. “Perfect,” she said softly.

Ling grinned and hooked her arms around Orm’s waist, gently pulling her closer until Orm was standing between her legs. Without hesitation, Orm climbed onto Ling’s lap, straddling her comfortably, resting her hands on Ling’s shoulders for balance.

Their faces were close now, breaths mingling. Orm leaned in first this time, her lips brushing Ling’s in a kiss that was just a little deeper, a little longer than the one by the pool. Ling kissed her back with a tenderness that made Orm’s heart ache, one hand moving up to cradle the back of Orm’s head, threading gently through her hair.

When they pulled apart, Orm didn’t move far, just rested her forehead against Ling’s. She wanted to stay like this, to freeze time if she could.

“I love you,” Ling whispered, like she still couldn't believe it.

Orm smiled, closing her eyes for a second. “I love you too, teerak,” she whispered back.

They ended up tangled together, side by side, the moonlight spilling through the window casting a soft silver glow over them. Orm tucked her head beneath Ling’s chin, drawing lazy shapes on Ling’s arm with her fingertip. Ling, in turn, played with the ends of Orm’s hair, the slow, absentminded touches making Orm feel so warm, so safe.

“What should we do tomorrow?” Ling asked eventually, her voice a low hum against Orm’s ear.

Orm closed her eyes, smiling faintly. “Anything,” she murmured. “As long as it’s with you."

Ling chuckled softly, her chest rumbling gently under Orm’s cheek. “Even if it’s just sitting around doing nothing?”

Orm tilted her head up to look at her, eyes gleaming. “Especially if it’s doing nothing,” she said.

Ling brushed a strand of hair away from Orm’s face, her touch lingering. “Lazy, huh?” she teased.

Orm grinned, unbothered. “Only when I’m happy.”

Ling’s hand moved to cradle Orm’s cheek, her thumb stroking lightly across the skin there. “Then,” she said softly, “I’ll make sure you stay happy.”

The promise was simple, but it made Orm’s chest tighten in the best way. She closed her eyes again, letting herself believe it, wanting to believe it, even if she hadn’t yet told Ling about the uncertainty clouding her future.

For now, she wanted this. Ling’s hoodie wrapped around her, and her arms around her. The slow, steady beat of Ling’s heart beneath her ear. The world outside could wait.

Chapter Text

The days melted together in the best way possible after Orm came home.

It was strange how easily everything else, worries about Canada, about her future, faded into the background whenever Ling was by her side. Somehow, the weight pressing down on Orm’s chest felt lighter when Ling was holding her hand, or laughing at one of her dumb jokes, or just looking at her like she was the best thing in the world.

The world outside could crumble, and Orm still wouldn’t have noticed, not when Ling was looking at her like that. This summer was theirs, and Orm intended to make the most of every second.

Their first adventure was simple but perfect: café hopping across the city.

Orm leaned closer to Ling as they stood outside their first stop, a tiny café tucked between a bookstore and an art shop. “This one has, like, the weirdest drinks ever. Are you sure about this?” she asked, teasing.

Ling gave her a sideways look, the corner of her mouth lifting. “Weird drinks? That’s exactly why we’re here.”

“You’re gonna regret it when you're crying over a durian latte,” Orm warned, nudging her gently with her shoulder.

“I’m brave,” Ling said with mock seriousness, pushing open the door with a flourish.

Inside, the café smelled like roasted coffee beans and vanilla. The menu board above the counter had a ridiculous list of options, and true to her word, Ling pointed at something wild: a sweet potato frappe.

Orm burst out laughing. “You're seriously doing that?”

Ling only grinned and said, “One of us has to live a little,” before turning to the barista to order.

Orm got something safe: an iced caramel macchiato. But couldn't stop glancing at Ling like she was the funniest thing in the universe. She even snapped a quick candid photo when Ling wasn’t looking, Ling’s serious face studying the wild menu, completely unaware.

When their drinks arrived, Ling took one confident sip of her purple-hued frappe and immediately coughed.

Orm almost fell off her chair laughing. “Told you! I told you!”

Ling wiped her mouth dramatically. “It's... an experience.”

“You look like you're reconsidering all your life choices right now.”

“I'm committing to the bit,” Ling said, raising her cup solemnly.

Orm giggled, reaching over to clink her plastic cup against Ling's. “To bad decisions,” she said, grinning.

“To very weird love stories,” Ling added, her eyes sparkling.

After a few more laughs, and Ling bravely finishing most of her unfortunate drink, they left the first café hand in hand, wandering down the street under the lazy afternoon sun.

Their next stop was a cozy little bakery café, famous for its ridiculously cute desserts. Inside, the scent of fresh bread and strawberries filled the air. Everything was pastel. Mint walls, pale wooden tables, tiny flower vases set on each one. It felt like stepping into a dream.

Orm immediately dragged Ling over to the dessert counter. “Look! They have cakes shaped like puppies!”

Ling leaned closer, squinting. “Are we... are we supposed to eat them? They look too cute to kill.”

“Speak for yourself,” Orm said with a mischievous grin. “I'm taking that corgi cake down.”

Ling shook her head in fond exasperation, watching as Orm ordered a corgi cake and a strawberry shortcake. They found a corner table by the window, sunlight catching in Orm’s blonde hair and making her look almost ethereal.

Ling picked up her fork dramatically. “Rest in peace, little corgi.”

Orm laughed, the sound like music, and together they dug in, stealing bites from each other's plates, smearing a little cream on each other's noses just to mess around.

By the time they finished, their stomachs hurt from laughing more than from eating. Ling leaned back in her chair, one hand lazily draped over the back of Orm’s seat, feeling so at peace it was almost scary.

And the day wasn’t over yet. They wandered from one café to the next, sampling new menus, sharing quiet smiles and bursts of laughter. Between sips of coffee and stolen bites of cake, they stole soft kisses too, lost in their own little world, where nothing else mattered but each other.

A couple of days later, they decided to catch a movie together. Orm had seen her friends buzzing about it in their group chat, and she thought it would be fun to experience it with Ling.

The movie theater was a cozy one tucked inside a mall, not too crowded, with rows of deep, plush seats perfect for sneaking closer together. They bought popcorn; half buttered, half caramel, and found their seats somewhere near the back where there were fewer people.

As the lights dimmed and the previews started, Orm slipped her hand into Ling’s without a word. Ling squeezed back. Orm rested her head lightly on Ling’s shoulder, breathing her in, feeling Ling's thumb slowly brushing against the back of her hand.

It wasn’t loud or flashy. It wasn’t anything big. But it was everything.

The movie they had picked turned out to be a horror film, Orm's choice. And about halfway through, a particularly nasty jumpscare came out of nowhere, a ghost popping right behind a character’s shoulder, and Ling visibly flinched.

Orm saw it. Oh, she definitely saw it. She immediately turned to Ling with a slow, wicked smile in the dim glow of the screen.

Ling, still trying to save face, muttered, “Reflex.”

Orm barely contained her laughter, biting her lip to stop herself from bursting out loud. She leaned closer and whispered near Ling’s ear, “You flinched.”

Ling gave her a side-eye. “Did not.”

“Definitely did.” Orm was positively delighted now, her voice teasing and victorious.

They bickered under their breath as the movie played on, half the time arguing about Ling’s supposed bravery, the other half stealing popcorn from each other’s lap.

At one point, Orm leaned in to grab a handful of popcorn and somehow managed to smear a little butter onto the corner of her lips. Ling noticed it immediately. Without thinking, she turned toward Orm and used her thumb to gently wipe the spot away. But her thumb lingered longer than necessary, tracing Orm’s lower lip with a kind of softness that made both their hearts stutter.

Orm blinked up at her, frozen for a second. Ling’s fingers slowly dropped from Orm’s mouth, but not before Ling, emboldened by something quiet and tender blooming inside her, leaned in and pressed a soft, fleeting kiss to Orm’s lips.

Orm smiled into the kiss, heart skipping uncontrollably, before Ling pulled back just enough to whisper, almost sheepish, “Missed a spot.”

Orm laughed breathlessly, her forehead falling lightly against Ling’s shoulder.

Neither of them paid much attention to the rest of the movie after that. They sat there, fingers intertwined, sharing shy smiles in the dark, letting the outside world melt away. It was just them.

Them and the quiet, wonderful feeling of being exactly where they wanted to be.

The days melted together after that, easy and warm, filled with laughter and stolen kisses.

After a few more lazy afternoons spent wandering cafés and browsing little shops, Ling suggested they go somewhere different. Somewhere quieter. Somewhere just for them.

And so, one bright morning, they packed a small bag and set off for the mountains.

The car ride itself was a memory Orm wanted to keep forever: Ling tapping her fingers on the steering wheel in rhythm with the music, Orm singing off-key just to make her laugh, the windows rolled down to let the summer breeze whip through their hair. The city faded behind them, replaced by winding roads, towering trees, and the deep blue stretch of sky.

When they reached the mountain cabin, a cozy little place tucked between the trees, it felt like stepping into another world. The air smelled like pine and earth, crisp and clean. The only sounds were the rustling leaves and the distant chirp of birds.

Ling hauled their bags inside while Orm wandered onto the front porch, breathing it all in.

“You like it?” Ling asked when she came back out, brushing her hands against her jeans, a little shy despite herself.

“I love it,” Orm said, her voice light but certain, as if there was never a doubt.

Ling felt her chest loosen with quiet relief, a slow smile spreading across her face. She ducked her head for a moment, pretending to adjust her watch just to hide how much it meant to her. But when she looked back up, Orm was still looking at her, not at the mountains, not at the trees, at her.

Ling stepped closer, bumping their shoulders together gently. “I’m glad,” she said, her voice low, the words carrying more weight than she let on.

Orm grinned and reached out to tug lightly on Ling’s sleeve. “You’re kind of cute when you’re nervous, you know.”

Ling gave an exaggerated scoff, but her ears turned just a little pink. “Nervous? I’m not nervous. I just… wanted you to like it. That’s all.”

Orm leaned in, lowering her voice as if sharing a secret. “I would’ve liked anywhere, as long as it’s with you.”

Ling’s smile deepened, a warmth blooming in her chest. She reached out and hooked her pinky with Orm’s, giving it a small squeeze.

After a quick rest, they set off to hike a nearby trail.

At first, Orm was excited, snapping pictures of the tall trees and dragging Ling to pose with her in front of funny-shaped rocks. But about halfway up the trail, her energy flagged. She slowed, dragging her feet dramatically, a loud sigh escaping her lips.

Ling glanced back, amused. “Tired already?”

Orm glared half-heartedly at her, wiping fake sweat off her brow. “This is inhumane. I’m a delicate flower, Ling. I’m not built for mountain adventures.”

Ling chuckled. “You said you like mountains,” she said while walking back to her and crouching down in front of her. “Get on.”

Orm blinked. “What?”

“You heard me. Piggyback time.”

Orm hesitated, pouting even though her legs were grateful for the offer. “You’ll regret this.”

Ling tilted her head back to smirk at her. “I already do. Now, hurry up.”

Laughing, Orm climbed onto Ling’s back, wrapping her arms loosely around Ling’s shoulders. Ling hooked her hands securely under Orm’s thighs and straightened with a small grunt.

“You’re heavier than you look,” Ling teased.

“Hey!” Orm smacked her shoulder lightly, making them both laugh.

The trail suddenly didn’t feel so long anymore. Orm rested her chin on Ling’s shoulder, feeling the steady rise and fall of her breathing, the warmth radiating between them.

“You’re comfy,” Orm murmured, closing her eyes briefly.

“And you’re lazy,” Ling retorted, but her voice was fond.

They made it to a small clearing where the trees opened up to reveal a stunning view of the valley below. Ling carefully set Orm down, and they sat side by side on the soft grass, catching their breath.

The late afternoon light spilled golden over everything, turning Orm’s hair almost fiery in the glow. Ling watched her for a moment longer than necessary.

“I wish we could stay like this forever,” Orm murmured, her voice soft, almost wistful.

Ling turned her head, a small, earnest smile tugging at her lips. “We can’t freeze time… but we can make it count.”

Orm smiled back, her heart full. She reached for Ling’s hand, and their fingers tangled easily, naturally.

As the sun dipped lower, painting the sky in shades of gold and pink, they made their way back to the cabin, Ling gently bumping their shoulders together with every few steps.

Tomorrow, they would head to the beach for the final leg of their little escape. But tonight, it was just them, a cabin in the woods, and a sky full of stars.

And neither of them would trade it for anything.

A few days had passed since their mountain hike. The memories of sun-drenched trails, playful bickering, and Ling carrying Orm on her back still vivid in their minds. Now, the final stretch of summer was slipping through their fingers, soft and slow like the tides pulling at the shore.

The beach was their last stop before the real world caught up with them again.

Ling parked the car beside a small, weathered cabin that sat just steps away from the sand. The ocean stretched endlessly beyond it, the sunset casting golden reflections across the water. The air smelled of salt and warmth, thick with the promise of one last adventure before everything changed.

Orm was the first to jump out of the car, stretching with a loud, contented sigh. “I’m never going back,” she declared dramatically, spinning in a slow circle under the fading sun. “This is it. I’m starting a new life as a beach hermit.”

Ling laughed as she grabbed their bags from the backseat, the sound easy and full of affection. “You’d miss your air-conditioning by tomorrow.”

Orm shot her a grin over her shoulder. “Not if you’re here.”

Ling's heart flipped unexpectedly at that, but she played it cool, slinging a bag over her shoulder. “Flattery won’t get you out of helping me unpack.”

Orm pouted but skipped ahead toward the little cabin anyway, her bare feet kicking up soft sprays of sand. Ling watched her go, a fond smile tugging at her lips. It was their last little escape before the semester started again, and for now, it was just them, the sea, and the sky.

Inside, the cabin was cozy and simple: two beds pushed together, a small kitchen, and windows wide open to the ocean breeze. It didn’t need to be anything more.

Orm kicked off her shoes and darted outside. Shaking her head in exasperated affection, Ling kicked off her own sneakers and followed her into the sunset.

The sand was cool beneath their feet as they raced toward the shoreline, laughter and crashing waves filling the air. Ling caught up easily, wrapping her arms around Orm’s waist just as they reached the surf. They stumbled into the shallows together, the water splashing up around their ankles, cool and shocking and perfect.

Orm turned in Ling’s arms, smiling so brightly that Ling swore the sun itself dimmed in comparison. “We’re really here,” Orm whispered, like it was a secret meant only for them.

Ling reached up, brushing damp hair from Orm’s face, her thumb lingering a little longer than necessary. “Yeah,” she said, her voice soft. “We’re here.”

And for that moment, for that golden sliver of time, it felt like they had all the time in the world.

Orm leaned up, pressing her lips gently to Ling’s. The kiss was slow, unhurried, filled with the sweetness of summer and the ache of knowing it couldn’t last forever.

When they broke apart, Orm rested her forehead against Ling’s, the two of them swaying slightly with the gentle pull of the tide.

“I wish this summer would never end,” Orm murmured.

Ling tightened her arms around her, closing her eyes. “Me too.”

And so they stood there, two hearts clinging to the last stretch of summer, refusing to let go just yet.

Later that night, the ocean whispered just beyond the windows of the cabin, the salty breeze slipping through the slightly open door. The day had left them pleasantly tired, all sun-kissed skin, messy hair, and warm smiles.

Orm curled up with Ling on the wide couch facing the small fireplace, a thick blanket wrapped loosely around their shoulders. Ling had dragged the blanket over them as soon as they settled down, claiming that beach nights got colder than expected, not that either of them minded the excuse to stay close.

Orm rested her head against Ling’s chest, listening to the steady rhythm of her heartbeat. Ling’s fingers traced idle patterns along Orm’s arm under the blanket, soft and slow, like she was drawing invisible words she didn’t know how to say aloud.

“You warm enough?” Ling asked, her voice low and a little rough from the salty air.

Orm tilted her head up, smiling lazily. “Mhm, perfect.”

Ling chuckled, pressing a kiss to Orm’s forehead. “Good.”

They shifted a little, and the blanket slipped slightly, revealing Orm's bare shoulder. Ling tugged it back up gently, her touch lingering longer than necessary, like she couldn't quite help herself.

Outside, the waves rolled and broke against the shore, a soothing soundtrack to their quiet evening.

Orm sighed, nuzzling closer against Ling’s chest. “I could stay like this forever.”

Ling smiled into her hair, her voice a gentle murmur. “Then stay. Stay with me, Orm. Don’t ever leave.”

Orm’s body tensed almost imperceptibly, her heart squeezing tight at the simple, earnest plea. If it had been before the trip to Canada, she would have answered without hesitation, a bold, fearless yes. But now... with everything weighing on her, the future felt uncertain, fragile.

She didn’t trust her voice enough to speak. Instead, she only nodded, pressing her face deeper into the crook of Ling’s neck, holding on a little tighter as if she could freeze this moment, and all the peace it gave her, just a little longer.

Ling didn’t say anything more. She just wrapped her arms around Orm and held her close, as if she understood without needing the words.

And for a long, sweet while, they stayed like that. Just the two of them, the blanket, and the ocean humming quietly in the background.

Chapter Text

The first day back at school felt almost surreal.

The sun was just beginning to rise when Orm pulled on her uniform, smoothing the skirt with absent hands. She tied her hair up loosely, smiling at her reflection in the mirror. Somehow, after everything, the long summer days, the beach, the cabin, Ling’s steady arms around her, coming back here didn’t feel so bad.

Outside, the school grounds buzzed with familiar energy. Students reunited, voices overlapping in excitement, laughter bouncing off the walls. Orm walked through the gates, her bag slung carelessly over one shoulder, and felt an odd lightness in her chest. It was the same school, the same faces, but she wasn’t the same girl who had left it at the start of summer.

She spotted Kate and Prig near the courtyard, waving her over with exaggerated gestures.

“Someone’s glowing,” Kate teased as Orm approached.

“Must be all that Canadian air,” Prig added, grinning.

Orm rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the smile tugging at her lips. “Yeah, yeah. I missed you too,” she said, bumping her shoulder playfully against Kate’s.

And then she felt it, that familiar pull. She turned her head and found Ling leaning casually against the lockers, her bag slung low, hands tucked into her pockets. Her hair caught the sunlight in soft glints, and when she looked up and met Orm’s eyes, she smiled, that quiet, private smile that was meant only for her.

Orm’s heart squeezed.

“Go,” Kate whispered under her breath, nudging her.

Orm didn’t need to be told twice. She jogged lightly over, her steps easy, natural. Ling straightened when Orm neared, her smile widening just a little.

“Hey,” Ling said simply.

“Hey,” Orm echoed, warmth bubbling in her chest.

For a moment, they just stood there, saying nothing, letting the morning bustle fade around them like white noise. They acted like they hadn’t just spent the night together, like they hadn’t just spent the entire summer wrapped up in each other, like they hadn’t shared sleepy kisses that very morning before heading to school.

It was ridiculous, maybe, how just being near Ling made Orm feel like everything was fine. Like, no heavy conversations had been waiting for her since the moment she boarded the plane back from Canada. Like summer wasn’t already slipping away.

Ling tilted her head slightly. “Good first day so far?”

Orm grinned. “It’s not a real first day until you complain about it at lunch.”

Ling laughed under her breath, a sound that made Orm want to step closer, close enough to rest her forehead against Ling’s and stay there forever. But instead, she just smiled and reached for Ling’s hand. A small, quick squeeze before letting go.

Enough to say I'm here. You're here. That's all I need right now.

And for the first time that morning, Orm let herself believe it could stay that way. At least, for a little while longer.

At lunch, it didn’t take long for the questions to start.

“So, how was Canada?” Kate asked, nudging Orm with her elbow as they sat at their usual table in the courtyard.

“Yeah, tell us everything,” Prig chimed in, leaning forward eagerly.

Bam rested her chin in her palm, giving Orm a lazy smile. “Bet you caused some trouble there too.”

Orm chuckled, swirling her straw around in her iced tea. “It was nice. Different,” she said lightly, picking at the fries on her tray.

Kate raised an eyebrow. “That’s it? Come on, you went there for two weeks! You must have done something cool.”

Orm smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Saw some places, ate a lot, took a lot of photos.”

She shrugged. And met my father. And got hit with a future I didn’t ask for, she thought but didn’t say.

Prig leaned in, eyeing her. “You okay? You’re acting weird.”

“I’m fine.” Orm waved them off with a grin she didn’t feel. “Just still in a holiday vibe, maybe.”

They moved on to another topic after that, talking about upcoming school events and gossip. Orm joined in, laughed at the right moments, but inside, her mind kept slipping. Her father’s words clung to the back of her thoughts like a stubborn shadow. Expectations. Future. Responsibility. It made her chest feel heavy.

In class, it was worse. She stared at the whiteboard without seeing a thing, her pen tapping absently against her notebook. Words blurred together. Even when they hung out after school, grabbing bubble tea and loitering outside the mall, Orm found herself zoning out mid-conversation. She hated it.

And Ling…. of course, Ling noticed.

At first, Ling only watched her with quiet concern, her gaze lingering a little longer than usual when Orm laughed too loudly or seemed too distant. That night, as they walked back to their bikes, Ling finally asked, her voice soft enough that only Orm could hear.

“Are you okay?”

Orm blinked, caught off guard. She forced a smile and bumped her shoulder against Ling’s. “Yeah. Just tired.”

Ling didn’t press. She never did. She simply nodded, offering a tiny smile in return, and reached out briefly to tuck a strand of Orm’s hair behind her ear. The small touch almost unraveled Orm’s careful composure.

She wanted to tell her. About everything. About the gnawing fear, the pressure, the way it felt like her future was already slipping out of her hands.

But she couldn’t. Not yet.

Instead, she leaned into Ling’s touch for a moment longer, letting its simple warmth anchor her, even as everything inside her felt like it was drifting further and further away.

By the time Friday rolled around, the weight pressing on Orm’s chest hadn’t eased. In fact, it had only grown heavier.

She barely made it through her classes, her mind scattered, her notes half-finished. Even when Ling leaned close during break, whispering some dry, funny comment about their teacher, Orm only smiled weakly instead of firing back with her usual sass. Ling’s eyes flickered with quiet worry, but she didn’t say anything.

Not yet.

Lunch felt like a blur. Orm sat at their usual table, picking at her food while Prig and Bam debated about some new café downtown. She nodded along without really listening, her gaze drifting across the courtyard. The voices around her seemed distant, muffled by the noise inside her own head.

When the final bell rang and students started pouring out of the building, Orm moved on autopilot, heading for the lockers. She wanted to go home. Maybe crash on her bed and forget about the world for a while.

But Kate had other plans.

“Hey, Orm. Wait up,” Kate called after her, jogging a few steps to catch up.

Orm sighed under her breath but forced a smile as she turned. “What's up?”

Kate didn’t answer immediately. She just grabbed Orm's wrist and pulled her aside, around the corner where it was quieter.

“Okay,” Kate said, folding her arms across her chest. “Spill.”

Orm blinked. “Spill what?”

“Don't play dumb,” Kate said, giving her a look. “You've been off all week. Even Prig noticed, and that girl barely notices anything unless it sparkles.”

Orm chuckled weakly. “I'm fine. Seriously.”

Kate stared at her, unimpressed. “Orm. Come on. You think you can fool me? What's wrong?”

For a second, Orm almost kept up the act. Nearly brushed it off with another joke. But something in Kate’s steady gaze, the lack of judgment, the way she was just there , chipped away at the wall Orm had been trying so hard to keep up.

She exhaled shakily and leaned back against the wall, feeling suddenly exhausted.

“My dad...?” Orm started, her voice barely above a whisper. “He wants me to move. After graduation. He wants me to study business, take over... everything.”

Kate’s brows knitted together. “Wait, like, move where ?”

“Canada,” Orm said, her throat tightening. “Full-time. No more summers, no more short trips. He wants me to live there.”

Kate stared at her, stunned. “Shit.”

Orm let out a hollow laugh. “Yeah. Shit.”

There was a beat of silence before Kate stepped closer. “Have you told Ling?” she asked gently.

Orm shook her head, looking down at her shoes. “I can’t. Not yet. I don't want to ruin everything.”

Kate frowned. “Orm... you should tell her. You can’t just pretend it’s not happening. And the longer you keep this, the longer it kills you.”

“I know,” Orm said, voice cracking slightly. She pressed the heel of her palm against her forehead. “I just—I don’t know how to tell her without... breaking us.”

Kate squeezed her shoulder. “Hey, Ling’s stronger than you think. And you’re stronger too,” she nudged her, trying to light up the mood. “Who knows, maybe it won’t be that bad. Plus, LDR is a thing, you know.”

Orm bit her lip, feeling the familiar sting of tears behind her eyes. She hated crying. Especially here, at school. But Kate’s words sank deep.

Maybe she could tell Ling. Maybe she had to.

Kate smirked, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Or… what if it’s just a high school thing for her? You guys might break up after graduation.”

Orm gasped, scandalized, and shoved Kate’s shoulder. “You’re the worst.”

Kate burst into laughter, not even trying to hold it back. “I’m just saying! It’s possible!”

Orm rolled her eyes. She should tell Ling, yes. Because if there was anyone she wanted to figure this out with, it was her.

Ling pulled up in front of Orm’s house just as the sun dipped low behind the rooftops, painting the sky in warm hues of orange and pink. They had been quiet during the ride, a comfortable kind of silence, with Ling occasionally glancing at Orm through the side mirror, stealing little smiles she couldn’t quite hide.

Orm’s heart skipped a beat when she spotted two familiar cars parked in the driveway. “They’re home,” she mumbled, shifting nervously in her seat. “My parents.”

Ling followed her gaze and smiled gently. “It’s okay. I’ll just drop you off.”

Orm held onto Ling for a moment longer than necessary as she climbed off the bike, the evening breeze still clinging to them. Ling smiled softly, removing her own helmet first before stepping closer to help Orm with hers, fingers brushing against Orm’s cheeks as she lifted it off.

Before either of them could say anything, the front door swung open with a creak. Orm’s mother stepped out, her face lighting up with a warm, welcoming smile.

“Let me say hi to your mom,” Ling said, returning the smile, a little shy but determined.

Orm nodded, feeling an unexpected flutter in her chest as she led Ling to the front steps.

“This is Ling,” Orm said, a little awkwardly, like she wasn’t sure how much to say.

Ling immediately pressed her palms together and bowed her head respectfully in a wai. “Good evening, Ma’am. I’m Lingling.”

Orm’s mom laughed gently, a kind, motherly sound. “Hello, Lingling. I’ve heard a lot about you from Orm. Come in, stay for dinner with us.”

Ling blinked, caught off guard. She turned her head slightly toward Orm, wordlessly asking what she should do. Orm bit her bottom lip and gave Ling a small, reassuring nod. Ling relaxed, straightening up again with a polite, grateful smile.

“If it’s not too much trouble… I’d love to,” Ling said.

Orm’s mother stepped aside to welcome them both in, her warmth making it easier, making everything feel just a little less terrifying than meeting a girlfriend’s parents normally would be.

“No trouble at all! Come, come! We have plenty.”

Inside, the house smelled like simmering stew and fresh bread. It was cozy, lived-in, with framed photos lining the hallway. Ling took it all in quietly, her hands gripping the strap of her backpack. It wasn’t her first time coming here, but it somehow felt like it. Because now, Orm’s parents were here.

Dinner began with the soft clatter of plates and the smell of warm, home-cooked food filling the air. Orm’s mother chatted easily as she placed dishes down on the table, urging them both to sit and eat.

Ling settled into her chair beside Orm, offering a small, polite smile as Orm’s father joined them at the head of the table. His presence was less immediately warm than Orm’s mother’s, but not unkind, just more reserved, more measured.

“Orm tells us you’re at the top of your class,” her mother said as she ladled soup into Ling’s bowl.

Ling ducked her head slightly, embarrassed. “I'm doing my best,” she answered, her voice modest. “School keeps me busy. And Orm helped me a lot with my Thai.”

“That’s wonderful!” Orm’s mother beamed. 

Orm’s father gave a thoughtful hum as he picked up his spoon. “I heard you’re from Hong Kong.”

Ling offered a polite smile and nodded. “I am, sir.”

“Why Thailand?” he asked casually, taking a slow bite of his food.

Ling paused, pressing her lips together for a moment as she considered how to answer. Her fingers brushed lightly against the edge of her plate, steadying herself.

“It’s my mother’s hometown,” she said finally, her voice even and respectful. “I wanted to feel closer to her after everything. And Thailand feels like home now.”

Orm’s hand brushed Ling’s under the table, just a small, fleeting touch, and it gave Ling a surge of courage she desperately needed. Because, truthfully, her palms were slightly damp against her lap, and her heart had been hammering the moment they stepped inside the house.

Meeting Orm’s parents wasn’t just nerve-wracking; it felt monumental. It wasn’t just dinner. It was showing them that she was worthy, that she was someone who could be trusted with their daughter’s heart. And not to mention, this meeting was unexpected. She came unprepared.

“And your family?” Orm’s mother asked, smiling warmly. “Do you have siblings?”

Ling nodded, feeling the knot in her stomach ease a little under the mother's genuine kindness. “Just a younger brother. He’s in middle school.”

Orm’s mother made an approving sound. “Sounds like you have a good family.”

Ling smiled, a little more real this time. She felt Orm’s gaze on her, and when she sneaked a glance back, Orm gave her a soft, proud smile, one that made Ling’s chest ache a little with how much she wanted to live up to it.

“What does your father do?” Orm’s father asked, his tone mild but his gaze sharp as he glanced at Ling.

Ling’s fingers tightened slightly around her spoon before she lifted her eyes, offering a polite smile. “He’s a politician. A congressman.”

Orm’s father didn’t answer; he just resumed his dinner, quiet until now, before he set down his cutlery and leaned slightly forward. His eyes, sharp but not unkind, studied Ling carefully.

“You seem like a responsible young woman,” he finally said.

Ling sat a little straighter, hoping her nerves didn’t show. “Thank you, sir.”

Underneath the polite exchange, there was a thread of tension, not heavy, but present enough that Ling stayed conscious of every word she chose, every small gesture. Orm fidgeted with the edge of her napkin beside her, tapping her foot under the table in a quiet rhythm that Ling could feel through the floor.

The conversation drifted on, polite and light, talking about favorite foods, small hobbies, and places they liked to visit. Ling answered as naturally as she could, masking the way her mind kept racing ahead, wondering if Orm’s parents suspected just how much she loved their daughter already.

She wondered, a little nervously, if they could tell.

Just as Ling began to feel herself relax into the warm rhythm of conversation, Orm’s father leaned back in his chair. 

“Orm will be continuing her education in Canada after she graduates,” he said, as if it were just another detail about dinner.

The words slammed into Orm harder than she was prepared for.

And beside her, Ling's polite smile faltered. 

Orm held her breath, she felt the world tilt, closing in on her.

The silence that followed was sharp, cutting between them.

Chapter Text

Just as Ling began to feel herself relax into the warm rhythm of conversation, Orm’s father leaned back in his chair, folding his hands neatly on the table. His next words shifted the atmosphere immediately.

“So, Lingling,” he said, his voice steady but more pointed now. “What are your plans after graduation? University here in Thailand… or back to Hong Kong?”

The question felt casual enough on the surface, but Ling heard the weight behind it. She straightened slightly, feeling the invisible test in the air.

She met his gaze calmly, forcing her voice to stay even. “I'm still considering my options, sir,” Ling answered respectfully. “But I'm hoping to pursue engineering or architecture after graduation.” 

Orm listened silently, trying to stay composed. She wanted to reach for Ling’s hand under the table, but her fingers wouldn't move. Her father nodded once, as if approving of Ling's thoughtfulness. Then, without warning, he dropped it. The words were heavy and merciless.

“Orm will be continuing her education in Canada after she graduates,” he said, as if it were just another detail about dinner.

The words slammed into Orm harder than she was prepared for. Her body stiffened. Her fingers gripped the edge of her seat. She didn't dare look at Ling, didn't dare breathe. 

And beside her, Ling's polite smile faltered, just for a second, so quick most people wouldn't have caught it. But Orm caught it.

The silence that followed was sharp, cutting between them.

Ling blinked once, slowly, composing herself with the kind of grace that made Orm ache inside. Then she gave a soft, easy nod.

“That’s wonderful,” Ling said, her tone light, almost too light. “Canada’s a beautiful country. I’m sure Orm will do well anywhere she goes.”

Her voice was steady, but Orm could hear the carefully measured distance in it. She could feel it. Orm sat frozen, her heart pounding so loudly in her ears that she could barely hear her mother chiming in with something about scholarship applications and university rankings. All Orm could focus on was the sudden, unbearable space stretching between her and Ling.

Ling, who just kept smiling that polite smile, as if nothing had changed. As if it didn’t hurt.

Orm wanted to say something. Anything. She wanted to grab Ling’s hand, to beg her to understand, to tell her that she didn’t want to go if it meant leaving her behind. But she stayed silent, trapped in her seat, trapped by expectation, trapped by fear.

Ling caught her eyes just for a heartbeat, and in that brief second, Orm swore she saw something flicker there. 

Not anger.

Not disappointment.

Something softer.

Something that made her chest tighten painfully.

Still, neither of them said a word. Dinner carried on around them, but for Orm, it felt like everything had already shattered.

After dinner, Orm walked Ling toward the front door. Neither of them said much, the heavy silence stretching between them like a fragile thread. Orm fidgeted with the hem of her shirt, her heart hammering in her chest. She kept her gaze down, unsure how to even start, the lump in her throat growing heavier with every step.

They reached Ling’s bike, and just as Ling was about to grab her helmet, she turned around to face her. The porch light spilled a soft glow over Ling’s features; her calm eyes, the patient curve of her lips. And it broke something inside Orm.

“I’m sorry…” Orm blurted out, her voice cracking. Tears welled up before she could stop them. “I wanted to tell you. I didn’t want you to find out like that…”

Her chest tightened painfully, bracing herself for the worst. For Ling’s disappointment, for the anger she thought she deserved. She couldn’t even look at her, couldn’t bear to see the hurt she was sure she'd find in Ling's eyes.

But instead of anger, Ling only softened. She stepped closer and gently cupped Orm’s cheek, brushing her thumb tenderly across her skin, wiping away the tear that slipped free.

“Is that what's been bothering you lately?” Ling asked, her voice low and impossibly gentle.

Orm nodded miserably, eyes swimming. “I didn't know how to tell you…” she whispered.

Ling’s hand slid to the back of her head, pulling her in closer. “You know you can tell me anything, right?” she murmured against Orm’s head. “Especially this.”

Orm sniffled, pouting without meaning to. “You're not mad at me?” she asked, almost childlike.

Ling shook her head, smiling softly as she wrapped her arms fully around her. “I'm not mad,” she said firmly, as if daring the universe to contradict her.

Orm let out a shuddery breath, burying her face in the crook of Ling’s neck. The familiar scent of her, faintly like fresh soap and something warm, immediately calmed her, but it also made the tears fall faster.

“I'm scared of losing you,” Orm confessed, her words muffled against Ling’s shoulder.

Ling tightened her arms around her, one hand smoothing up and down Orm’s back. “You’re not losing me,” she whispered fiercely. “You’re my home, Orm.”

Orm let out a soft sob, the kind that was part relief and part overwhelming love, and clung to her even tighter. Ling pulled back just enough to look at her, brushing another tear from her cheek with the back of her fingers before leaning in to kiss her; a slow, tender kiss that said everything words couldn’t.

Orm kissed her back just as softly, feeling herself melt into it. It wasn’t rushed, or desperate. It was grounding, reassuring, and a silent vow passed between their lips.

When they finally pulled apart, Ling rested her forehead against Orm’s, her eyes still closed.

Orm smiled through the lingering tears and mumbled, “So… you want me in your future, right?”

Ling opened her eyes, and the way she looked at her, like she was the only thing that mattered in the world, made Orm’s heart ache.

“Of course,” Ling said without hesitation. “I always want you, Orm. Now, tomorrow, forever.”

Orm bit her bottom lip, trying not to cry again, trying not to explode from the amount of love swelling inside her. “You think you can do LDR?” she teased weakly, half afraid of the answer.

Ling raised a brow, pretending to consider. “LDR? I don’t think I can,” she said simply.

Orm’s heart sank. “Then how are we going to make it work?” she whispered.

Ling chuckled, reaching up to gently squeeze Orm’s cheeks, softening the blow. “I’m just gonna come with you to Canada,” she said, casual like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Wherever you go, I’ll go.”

Orm blinked, stunned. “What? For real? But you said you wanted to stay in Thailand... for your mother.”

Ling's smile softened, her thumb idly stroking the curve of Orm’s jaw. “I did want that. But one of the reasons I wanted to stay... was because of you. And if you're moving, then so am I.” Her voice dropped lower, more certain. “My mother would want me to be happy, Orm. And I'm sure she knows you're the one making me happy now.”

Orm couldn’t find her voice. Couldn’t think. She just lunged forward and hugged Ling so tightly she nearly knocked her backward. Ling laughed breathlessly but didn’t let go, just tightened her hold like she never intended to let Orm slip away.

Orm buried her face in the crook of her neck again, whispering fiercely, “I love you, Ling…. I love you so much.”

“I love you too, Orm,” Ling whispered back, voice shaking a little with emotion. “So so much.”

And then they kissed again, a little longer this time, a little deeper. Soft, sweet, full of promises. No matter where the road would take them, they would walk it together.

When they finally, reluctantly, parted for the night, Orm clutched the hoodie Ling had given her earlier, holding it tight against her chest. It smelled like Ling: safe, grounding, warm.

And as she watched Ling ride away into the night, Orm stood there under the stars, feeling a little less afraid, and a whole lot more loved.

Right after Ling disappeared from sight, Orm slipped quietly into her room, the door clicking shut behind her. The moment she was alone, she clutched Ling’s hoodie tighter against her chest, breathing it in. It still smelled like her: fresh soap, a hint of mint, and something that just was Ling. It made Orm’s chest ache and flutter all at once.

She dropped onto her bed, pulling her knees up and curling around the hoodie like it was a lifeline. A smile crept onto her lips without permission, small and sleepy and entirely full of love.

Her phone buzzed on the nightstand. Orm grabbed it immediately, half hoping it was Ling, but it wasn’t, just a group chat notification. She sighed dramatically into the hoodie. She unlocked her phone and opened a message to Ling, her fingers moving before she could second-guess herself.

Orm: I miss you already.

She hit send before she fell asleep, then rolled onto her back, staring at the ceiling, waiting. It didn’t take long. Her phone buzzed again just as she was about to overthink it.

Ling: I miss you too.

Orm grinned so wide her cheeks hurt. She typed fast, thumbs flying across the screen.

Orm: Should I sneak out so we can cuddle tonight?

Across town, Ling had just sunk onto her couch, tired but content, still smiling from dinner. When she read Orm’s message, a low chuckle escaped her lips. She shook her head, amused, already tapping out a reply.

Ling: You brat. I just made an impression on your parents. Don’t make them hate me for stealing their daughter.

Orm read it and pouted dramatically to no one in particular. She jabbed her thumb against her phone, sending another message.

Orm: Fine... You did great today btw. Mom clearly likes you. And Dad was impressed. I can tell.

Ling leaned back against the cushions, smiling so wide she felt ridiculous, but she didn’t care. Talking to Orm felt so easy, like breathing.

Ling: Good. One step closer to getting their permission for a hand in marriage.

Orm’s eyes widened as she read the message, her heart practically cartwheeling in her chest. She gasped aloud, her fingers scrambling to respond.

Orm: You idiot! You can’t just casually say things like that!!

Ling’s laughter echoed through her empty living room as she stared at the screen, her heart feeling light and full at the same time.

Ling: Why not? I mean it.

Orm read it once. Then twice. Her throat tightened, and she had to hug the hoodie closer just to feel like she wouldn’t float away from how happy she was.

Orm: ...You're serious?

A moment passed. 

Then another.

Ling: Dead serious. 

Orm bit her lip, trying to keep the tears at bay, the happy kind this time. She rolled onto her side, grinning so wide her cheeks hurt, feeling like her heart might burst.

Orm: I love you so much, idiot.

Ling: I love you too. Get some sleep, and dream of me.

Orm let out a strangled, giddy squeal and buried her burning face into the hoodie, kicking her legs in the air like a teenager in love, which, she supposed, she very much was. For the first time in days, she fell asleep smiling, her heart full, her arms wrapped around the hoodie that smelled like home.

Ling set her phone down on the coffee table, still smiling to herself. She leaned her head back against the couch, closing her eyes for a brief moment, letting the feeling sink in. That incredible, soaring lightness in her chest that only Orm seemed to bring out in her.

The house was quiet around her, the soft hum of the air conditioner the only sound. Yet Ling could still hear Orm’s voice in her head. She momentarily closed her eyes with a long, contented sigh, letting her head tip against the cushions. A tired but happy smile tugged at her lips, one she couldn’t, and didn’t want to suppress.

The night had been long. She had been so nervous walking into Orm’s home, facing her parents for the first time. Underneath the calm, polite exterior she had presented at dinner, her heart had been pounding relentlessly. Every question, every glance from Orm’s father had felt like walking a tightrope.

But then she thought of Orm, the way she had fidgeted under the table, the way she had looked at Ling like she was something precious. And somehow, it had all been worth it.

She chuckled under her breath, running a hand through her hair. She had meant every word. No hesitation. No second-guessing. Her fingers brushed lightly over her phone screen one last time, rereading the words Orm had sent. Her chest tightened with affection, deep and steady.

“Goodnight, my love,” she whispered into the quiet room, the words soft, a vow only the walls and stars could hear.

With another small, contented sigh, Ling got up, turned off the lights, and made her way to her bedroom. The room dipped into darkness as she slid under the covers and let herself drift to sleep. The kind of sleep that only came when you knew, without a doubt, that you were loved.

Her heart still beating a little faster than usual, and she knew one thing for certain:

No matter what country, no matter what distance….

Orm was worth everything.

And Ling would follow her anywhere.

Chapter Text

Two years later.

The first rays of winter light bled gently through the sheer curtains, casting a pale golden hue across the quiet condo. Ling stirred, her eyes fluttering open to the familiar weight pressed snugly against her side.

Orm.

She was curled up like a cat beneath the blankets, blankets she had completely stolen during the night, leaving Ling half-exposed to the morning chill. Orm’s arms were wrapped possessively around Ling’s torso, one leg slung over hers, her cheek smushed against Ling’s shoulder. Only a few strands of messy hair and the soft sound of her breathing peeked out from the nest she’d made.

Ling groaned softly, though a fond smile tugged at her lips. “Unbelievable,” she whispered, voice still rough with sleep. “You’re like a tiny, adorable thief.”

She didn’t bother trying to reclaim the covers. She didn’t have the heart to move Orm. Not when she looked so content, her breathing slow and even, her lips slightly parted.

Then, Orm mumbled something incoherent into Ling’s skin, followed by a very sleepy, very mumbled version of her name.

“...Ling,” Orm breathed softly in her sleep, her brow furrowing as if missing her warmth.

Ling’s heart clenched in the best way. She leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to Orm’s forehead, then another to the tip of her nose. “I’m right here, baby.”

Orm’s eyes blinked open, glazed with sleep. “Mmm… too early,” she murmured, her voice barely a whisper. But she instinctively snuggled closer, tucking her face into Ling’s neck. 

Ling chuckled softly, stroking a hand down Orm’s back. “You’re the one who invaded my side and stole all the blankets.”

Orm didn’t move. “Your fault. You’re too warm. This is a survival strategy,” she mumbled.

“I’m going to freeze to death at this rate,” Ling teased, though her arms wrapped tighter around Orm without hesitation.

“Then die beautifully in my arms,” Orm sighed dramatically, making Ling snort.

A beat passed, quiet and slow, filled only with the soft sound of Orm’s breathing. Then Orm tilted her head up, still groggy, and placed a lazy kiss on Ling’s jaw. “Morning.”

Ling smiled, tilting her head so their foreheads touched. “Morning, sleepyhead.”

“Too cold to get up…” 

Orm gave her a sweet, lingering peck on the lips, then tried to pull the blanket tighter around herself. Her fingers found the hem of Ling’s shirt under the blanket. “Hmm… what if we decide who makes breakfast with a game?”

Ling arched a brow. “A game?”

Orm looked far too smug for someone who hadn’t opened both eyes yet. “Rock, paper, scissors. One round. Winner stays in bed, loser gets up and makes breakfast.”

Ling narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “You’re plotting something.”

Orm gave her best innocent look, poorly executed with her bedhead and mischievous grin. “Noo…”

“You know I’m terrible at this game.”

“Exactly,” Orm said brightly.

Ling sighed, rolling her eyes playfully. “Fine. What are the stakes?”

Orm perked up. “If I win, you carry me around the house like a queen and cook me pancakes.”

Ling huffed a quiet laugh. “And if I win?”

Orm smirked. “You get unlimited kisses for the day.”

Ling pretended to consider. “Hmm. Not a bad deal.”

“I know,” Orm held up a lazy hand, fingers wiggling. “Ready?”

They counted in sync: “One, two, three!”

Orm threw rock. Ling threw scissors.

Ling groaned. “I knew it.”

Orm grinned, still flat on her back. “You may now begin my royal pampering.”

“You rigged this.”

Orm shrugged innocently, pulling the blanket tighter around her. “You knew the risks.”

Ling flopped back onto the pillow. “I demand a rematch.”

Orm rolled on top of her and kissed her square on the mouth. “No rematch. You’re mine now.”

Ling laughed against her lips, wrapping an arm around her waist. “So I don’t even get the loser prize?”

Orm blinked, then leaned in to press a soft kiss to Ling’s temple. “Oh, you’ll still get your kisses, baby. I’m just not making breakfast.”

Ling shook her head, her smile wide and helpless. “You’re impossible.”

“I’m adorable.”

Ling pulled her closer. “Unfortunately true.”

Orm grinned, trailing lazy kisses along Ling’s jaw before burying her face back into her neck. “Wake me when the pancakes are ready.”

Ling groaned into the pillow. “Whipped. I’m so whipped.”

“Mhmm. You love it.”

And the truth was, she absolutely did.

Orm kissed her again, slow, sleepy, and sweet. She lingered there, noses brushing, her hands buried in the soft fabric of Ling’s shirt.

“I’m never getting out of bed,” she mumbled.

“You have class later,” Ling reminded her.

Orm groaned dramatically, then paused. “You’ll still pick me up, right?”

Ling smirked. “Of course. Wouldn’t miss it.”

Orm smiled so wide it scrunched her cheeks. “Okay. I’ll suffer through class if I get to see your dumb, handsome face after.”

Ling rolled her eyes and kissed her again, just because she could. “Deal.”

And true to her words, Ling stood outside Orm’s faculty building that afternoon, bundled in her black puffy jacket, hands tucked deep in her pockets. Her breath escaped in soft little clouds, vanishing into the crisp Canadian winter air. 

Snow had fallen lightly earlier in the day, dusting the sidewalk and the parked cars with a fresh layer of white. She rocked slightly on her heels, eyes scanning the building’s entrance as students trickled out, huddled in scarves and chatting in small groups.

Her dark hair was tucked beneath a beanie, and a faint blush had begun to color her cheeks and nose from the cold, though she barely noticed. Ling wasn’t focused on anything else, except the moment Orm walked through those doors.

And then, finally, there she was.

Orm came out with her usual confident stride, wrapped in a soft cream coat that swayed with her steps, her cheeks pink from the temperature. Ling straightened instinctively, a slow smile tugging at her lips. But her smile faltered briefly when she saw a guy approach Orm, clearly a fellow student, falling into step beside her.

He leaned in slightly, his voice low, his tone just a bit too casual. “Hey, uh… I was wondering, do you maybe wanna grab coffee? There's a new café just opened down the block. My treat.”

Orm blinked, surprised, and then smiled. Not the flirty smile. The polite one, the kind Ling knew, meant a gentle but firm boundary was about to be drawn.

Orm tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, her voice calm but kind. “Thanks… but my girlfriend’s waiting for me.” She tilted her head, gesturing with a subtle nod toward Ling. Her voice was just loud enough, not only for him to hear, but also for the nearby onlookers who had been whispering about her strikingly handsome girlfriend.

The guy followed her gaze.

There was Ling, leaning against one of the pillars, hands still in her pockets, looking effortlessly cool even with a puffed-up jacket and slightly flushed cheeks. A couple of other students who weren’t aware of Ling’s presence turned to look as well, whispering softly between themselves.

Orm’s lips curved up just a bit higher, almost proudly, as she gave the guy a polite goodbye and continued walking straight toward Ling.

Ling watched it all unfold with amusement. She couldn’t hear the conversation between Orm and the guy, but she could tell what was going on. She didn’t move, didn’t say a word about the guy. She didn’t need to. The look Orm gave her as she approached, eyes bright and affectionate, said enough.

“You’re popular today,” Ling said as soon as Orm reached her.

Orm rolled her eyes, but she was smiling as she stepped closer, slipping her gloved hands around Ling’s waist without hesitation. “Not my fault people keep mistaking me for single.”

Ling snorted. “You should wear a sign.”

Orm looked up at her, eyes gleaming. “Should I? What would it say?”

Ling bent down just a little, her nose brushing Orm’s cold one as she murmured, “Lingling Kwong’s cute girlfriend.”

Orm’s giggle escaped in a warm puff. “Possessive much?”

“Only when people ask my girlfriend out right in front of me.”

Orm scrunched her nose at her teasing, and Ling took full advantage of the moment to lean in and press a kiss to the tip of it, red from the cold and adorably soft.

“There,” Ling whispered. “Let’s get you warm.”

Orm’s cheeks flushed deeper, whether from the temperature or from the affection, even she wasn’t sure. She tucked herself closer to Ling’s side as they walked together toward the car.

“Thanks for picking me up,” Orm mumbled, her gloved fingers slipping into Ling’s bare hand as they reached the passenger door.

“Always.” Ling gave her hand a squeeze. “Besides, you’ve suffered enough through class, now you get to see my dumb, handsome face.” 

Orm laughed, rolling her eyes. “Idiot.”

As Ling opened the door for Orm, holding it like she always did, she caught the faint sound of someone across the street muttering, “That’s her? The one with the cool-looking girlfriend?”

Orm beamed as she slid into the seat. Ling just shook her head with a smile and closed the door behind her, heart warm despite the winter air.

They drove to the grocery store with the windows slightly fogged from the cold, but neither of them minded. The heater hummed softly, a mellow acoustic playlist playing from Ling’s phone as she tapped the steering wheel in rhythm. Orm, curled up in the passenger seat and was scrolling through a grocery list on her phone but only half-paying attention.

“I’m telling you, we don’t need three different types of pasta,” Ling said, glancing over with an amused smirk.

“But they’re for different moods,” Orm argued, without looking up. “Penne is for drama, fusilli is for fun, and spaghetti is for romance.”

Ling laughed. “That sounds made up.”

“Everything sounds made up if you say it out loud,” Orm shot back, grinning as she looked out the window. “Besides, it’s our house. Let me have my pasta moods.”

Ling chuckled, rolling her eyes fondly. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

They pulled into the parking lot, and as soon as Ling turned off the engine, Orm leaned over and pressed a quick kiss to her cheek. “And you’re lucky I’m in love with you,” she whispered.

Ling blushed, brushing her fingers through her hair as if to cover how pink her ears had turned. “Let’s get this over with before you distract me again.”

Once they went inside the store, the domestic chaos began.

While Ling was checking the expiration dates on cartons of milk, Orm disappeared. When she returned, she sneakily placed a pair of pastel ceramic mugs into the cart, one with a sleepy capybara and the other with a dog holding coffee.

Ling caught her in the act. “Orm.”

“Yes?” Orm blinked innocently.

“We have mugs.”

“We don’t have these mugs,” she replied with a hopeful smile.

Ling sighed, but there was no real annoyance in it. “You’re incorrigible.”

“I don’t know what that means, but it sounded like you called me adorable, so I’ll take it.”

Ling could only chuckle and shake her head. Orm could never fail to amuse her.

They continued down the aisles, bickering lovingly over milk brands; Orm wanted the cute packaging, Ling wanted the high-quality one, and Ling had to wrestle a glittery jar of jam from the cart when Orm tried to sneak it in.

“You just like things that sparkle,” Ling teased.

“Is that not why you like me?” Orm quipped, tossing her hair dramatically.

“I like you in spite of your sparkles,” Ling muttered, but she was smiling like an idiot the whole time.

They stole kisses in quiet corners of the store; near the spices aisle, when no one was around; behind a shelf of instant noodles, where Ling leaned down to nuzzle Orm’s cheek; and while waiting in line, when Orm looped their fingers together and whispered something cheesy that made Ling snort-laugh.

By the time they made their way back to the car, the sun had dipped lower, bathing the world in soft golden hues. Ling, as expected, carried all the bags. Arms weighed down, but shoulders squared like it was nothing.

Orm trailed beside her, quiet for a moment before she abruptly stopped, lips pulling into a pout.

Ling paused mid-step, concern flashing in her eyes. “What’s wrong?”

Orm crossed her arms, turning to her dramatically. “You don’t love me.”

Ling blinked, genuinely thrown. “Excuse me?”

Orm huffed, tapping her foot. “You’re not holding my hand. You don’t love me.”

Ling stared at her in disbelief, then lowered her gaze to the mountain of grocery bags hooked onto her arms. She exhaled a sharp breath, lips twitching, trying not to laugh. Adjusting the bags, she somehow managed to loop one arm with five hefty ones and extended her other hand toward Orm.

“Here,” she said, fingers wiggling. “Come on. Your highness demands hand-holding, right?”

Orm’s pout melted into a wide, victorious grin as she laced their fingers together. “There you go.”

Ling shook her head, utterly defeated but smiling. “Don’t you ever say I don’t love you again,” she muttered, tugging Orm gently toward the car.

As they walked, Orm peeked up at her, a teasing glint in her eyes. “I can carry something, you know.”

Ling glanced sideways, raising a brow. “You’re the princess. Princesses don’t carry grocery bags.”

Orm beamed, squeezing Ling’s hand tighter. “Exactly. You’re learning.”

Ling could only roll her eyes, but the fondness in her smile betrayed her.

Orm pecked Ling’s cheek and leaned her head on Ling’s shoulder as they walked. “I like this arrangement.”

“I know you do.”

“You really gonna carry all that yourself?”

“I’ve carried your drama and shopping habits for a year now. These groceries are nothing.”

Orm gasped in mock offense, swatting her lightly. “Rude.”

Ling leaned over and pecked her temple. “But I love you, so I’ll allow it.”

As they reached the car, Orm opened the door for her, just to be cheeky. “After you, my queen.”

Ling snorted. “We’re gonna be so annoying when we’re older.”

“We’re already annoying.”

“True.”

They shared another kiss before getting in, and as Ling started the car, Orm looked at her with a soft, thoughtful smile.

“Hey,” she said, fingers brushing Ling’s.

“Hm?”

“Thanks for this. The groceries, the mugs, everything. Just… us.”

Ling looked at her, eyes crinkling with warmth. “There’s no one else I’d rather carry mugs and milk with.”

Orm laughed softly, leaning in for one more kiss before the drive home.

Home. With her.

And that was everything.

They made it home just as the first flakes of snow began to fall again, dusting the windows in delicate white. The bags of groceries were scattered across the kitchen counter, half unpacked, half forgotten, as the girls gave up halfway through and found themselves drawn to the warm comfort of their bed instead.

“I can’t believe you snuck another set of mugs in when I wasn’t looking,” Ling said, teasing but fond.

Orm shrugged innocently. “They have tiny snowflakes on them. It’s called embracing the season.”

Ling rolled her eyes, but her smile lingered. “Brat as always.”

Half the groceries made it into the kitchen. The rest were still in bags on the counter, patiently waiting, as both girls abandoned the task in favor of something far better: collapsing into bed.

Ling had been in the middle of putting away the pasta. Yes, all three types. When Orm tugged at her hoodie and declared dramatically, “I require cuddles. Immediately. It’s for my health.”

And Ling, weak to her whims, obliged with a mock sigh. She tried to argue, though. Tried to point at the fridge, still holding a milk jug in need of space. But one look at Orm’s outstretched arms and sleepy grin, and she was a goner.

So now, collapsed in a tangled heap on their bed, they laughed over something that wasn't even that funny, maybe the apples, maybe the way Ling had stubbornly insisted they didn’t need three kinds of pasta, only to end up with four. The sound of their laughter lingered in the room long after the joke had faded, like music humming in the walls.

A single thick blanket wrapped around them, still warm from the dryer. Two mismatched mugs sat on the nightstand beside them, steam rising in gentle curls. Orm’s had marshmallows floating in her cocoa; Ling’s was tea, strong and a little bitter, just how she liked it.

Orm snuggled closer, her nose tucked into the soft fabric of Ling’s shirt, arms wrapped loosely around her waist. Ling lay on her back, one hand gently combing through Orm’s hair, the other resting over Orm’s arm, grounding them both in quiet comfort.

The world outside their window was hushed. Snow fell in lazy spirals, blanketing the city in a stillness that felt almost sacred.

“I still can’t believe this is our life now,” Orm murmured, barely above a whisper, as though saying it too loudly might break the spell. Her voice was soft, sleepy, laced with that vulnerable sincerity that only came out in quiet moments like this.

Ling turned her head and pressed a kiss into Orm’s hair, lingering there. Breathing her in. Holding her close. “It’s just the beginning,” she whispered back.

There was no need for grand declarations. Just the steady beat of their hearts in sync, the way Orm’s fingers curled instinctively around the hem of Ling’s shirt, and the warmth they shared beneath one blanket as snow painted the world in soft white strokes.

Orm shifted slightly, enough to look up at Ling, her cheek pressed against her shoulder.

“You’re my favorite part of this new life,” she said, no hesitation, no teasing. Just truth, plain and powerful.

Ling’s breath caught for a second. Then she smiled, wide and gentle, her eyes shining in the dim light of their room. She cupped Orm’s cheek and leaned in, brushing her lips against her forehead with reverence.

“You are literally my whole world, Orm.”

Orm’s eyes fluttered closed, the words sinking deep into her bones, settling there like warmth at the end of winter. She let out a quiet laugh, the kind that came from feeling safe, deeply seen, and overwhelmingly loved, the kind of sound born from joy and certainty. 

She reached up, cupping Ling’s jaw, and pulled her in for a slow kiss. There was no urgency, slow and lingering, no rush, no heat, just the soft pressure of lips against lips, full of everything that didn’t need to be said, the unspoken promise of forever. A kiss that felt like home.

And when they pulled apart, the room was still. The snow continued to fall. The mugs sat forgotten, their drinks now warm instead of hot.

But in that cozy condo, in their shared bed under a single blanket, with tangled legs and gentle breaths and soft laughter echoing into the night, everything felt complete.

This wasn’t just the beginning of their new life. It was the life they chose together. Simple. Warm. Theirs.

Home wasn’t a place.

It was this. It was them.

Outside, the snow continued its gentle descent, layering the world in white. Inside their warm condo, filled with the scent of groceries they didn’t quite need and the laughter they couldn’t stop sharing, two hearts beat quietly in sync. 

It wasn’t grand or loud. It was mugs too cute to resist, a nose kiss in the cold, and arms that knew exactly where to rest. A life still unfolding, built from sleepy mornings and soft declarations, silly bets and shared routines. 

And as Ling pressed one last kiss to Orm’s temple, she knew: this wasn’t just a chapter. 

This was everything. 

This was forever.

The End.

Chapter Text

It had been a few years since graduation, since the cozy condo they once called home, since snow-dusted windows and grocery store dates, since lazy mornings buried under warm blankets and even warmer laughter.

Life had shifted, but the love stayed steady.

After university, Ling landed a position at a well-known construction firm in Toronto. She worked long hours, shoulders tense under deadlines, boots caked with dust, fingers always holding a pencil or blueprint. But she never once complained, not when Orm would wait up for her with sleepy eyes and tea, not when she returned home to quiet kisses and soft jazz humming from the kitchen. Ling had always dreamed of building things, but with Orm beside her, that dream had begun to carry weight. Purpose. Roots.

Orm, on the other hand, stepped into the polished world of her family’s business with a confidence that surprised even her father. In meetings, she was sharp and thoughtful. Outside them, she was still the same Orm who danced barefoot on their balcony, who made Ling smile just by existing. There were business trips and late calls across time zones, but somehow, they always found their way back to each other at the end of the day.

It was during those quiet evenings in Canada, tucked under the same worn blanket on their couch, that the dream of a house began. Not just a house, but their home.

Ling would sketch, pencil moving lazily across her notebook as she leaned into Orm’s side. Orm would peer over her shoulder, pointing with a sleepy finger at a line and mumbling, “No, I want bigger windows there. The kind that lets in morning light. And a reading nook. Right next to it.”

Ling would chuckle softly, fixing the line. “Anything else, my demanding client?”

Orm would grin, kiss her cheek, and say, “Yes. A kitchen island. Big enough for us to argue about pasta.”

And so, night after night, their dream took shape, drawn in the language of laughter and love, of ink and fingertips. It was never about the walls or ceilings. It was about them, who they had become, and the life they were building.

And now, years later, they were finally back in Thailand.

The return to Thailand had felt like coming full circle. The air was warmer here, softer. Mornings were bright with birdsong, and evenings hummed with the scent of jasmine and the distant sound of scooters weaving through the neighborhood. 

After years in Canada’s snow and silence, Thailand felt loud and alive, but familiar, like a childhood lullaby playing in the background of a brand-new life.

They rented a modest townhouse while settling in. It wasn’t anything extravagant, just two bedrooms, a sunlit balcony, and a kitchen where Orm burned toast more often than not. But it was theirs, for now. 

Ling started her own small architecture studio not long after they arrived, working out of a corner desk surrounded by samples of wood, tile, and paper plans. Her father had offered her a larger space, an entire three-story building, if she wanted it. But she had gently declined. She wanted to build something of her own, from the ground up, without shortcuts or favors. Her team was still small, but her heart was all in. She was building things again, with purpose, with pride.

Orm, meanwhile, juggled managing parts of her family’s business remotely and consulting for a few Thai branches. She took calls in oversized shirts and shorts, hair tied in a lazy bun, glasses sliding down her nose as she reviewed reports from her laptop on the couch. Ling would glance over sometimes and smile quietly to herself, still in awe of how far they'd come.

Even on the busiest days, they had a rhythm. Morning coffees on the balcony, Ling pressing soft kisses to Orm’s temple before heading out, Orm sneaking little Post-it notes into Ling’s planner: Don’t forget lunch (or me).

At night, they’d fall asleep the same way they always had, tangled together, limbs in knots, hearts pressed close.

And through it all, Ling held a secret. A quiet one. A promise she’d been drawing for years, refining in stolen hours and whispered sketches.

Because while Orm thought their dream home was still just a dream, Ling had been building it from the ground up. And soon, it would no longer be a sketch in a notebook.

It would be real.

And it would be hers to give.

The sky was overcast that afternoon, clouds hanging low like they couldn’t quite decide if they wanted to rain or not. The kind of quiet day that made you want to stay curled up indoors. But Ling had insisted on a little drive, claiming she needed to “check on a site” and asked Orm to come along.

Orm, bundled in a soft cardigan, leaned back in the passenger seat and squinted suspiciously at her girlfriend.

“Are you dragging me out here just so I’ll keep you company on a boring inspection?” she asked, mock-offended, though her hand had never left Ling’s thigh since the drive began.

Ling gave her that familiar, noncommittal smirk. “You’ll see.”

“I swear,” Orm groaned, “If this ends with me standing in mud while you point at concrete, I’m divorcing you before we’re even married.”

That earned a quiet laugh from Ling, who kept her eyes on the road but reached over to squeeze Orm’s fingers before pecking her knuckles. “Then I better make sure the view is worth it.”

Orm hummed. “It better be a plot on the beach, with ocean views and coffee trees.”

Ling said nothing. She just drove, calm as ever, and Orm let herself sink into the silence between them, content to watch the trees blur past the window. She never minded Ling’s quiet; it always felt full of intention somehow, like something was being carefully held behind it.

Still, Orm didn’t suspect a thing when they turned down a narrow road surrounded by greenery. She didn’t notice the way Ling’s breath caught slightly as the roof of the house came into view.

Not until the car rolled to a stop in front of a warm, two-story house tucked perfectly at the edge of a quiet hill, surrounded by soft trees and open sky, clean lines, wide windows, pale wood panels, and a curve to the entrance that looked strangely familiar.

Orm blinked, sitting upright. “…Wait,” she said slowly, “This house, this design… Ling…”

She turned, and Ling was already stepping out of the car. Already opening her door. Already grinning that bashful grin, the one she wore only for moments like this.

Orm stepped out, heart pounding. “What is this?”

Ling held out a hand. “Come see.”

Still confused, still stunned, Orm followed, her eyes darting over the details. The roofline. The front porch. The arched doorway, exactly like the one she’d circled in one of the old magazines, half-joking, half-dreaming. The way the kitchen windows caught the light.

She stopped at the threshold. Her throat tightened. “Is… Is this ours?”

Ling smiled, nodding her head. “Yes.”

“You… You finished it?” Orm asked again, barely above a whisper. “You built it?”

Ling didn’t answer right away. She let Orm drink in the sight of it, the place they'd only talked about in quiet moments between work and sleep, wrapped in blankets and planning futures with pen strokes and hand gestures.

“I told you I’d make it real,” Ling said gently. “For you. For us.”

And Orm, still stunned, stepped forward and stepped into the life they once only sketched in ink.

The moment Orm stepped through the door, a wave of warmth settled over her, not from the soft lighting or the polished wood beneath her feet, but from something deeper. Something quieter. It felt like stepping into a memory stitched together from every soft, ordinary moment they'd ever shared.

The entryway opened into a sunlit living room, airy and gentle, with warm tones that immediately made her shoulders drop. Orm turned slowly in place, her eyes wide as she took it in. The sloping ceiling, the soft rugs, the little wooden bench against the wall with hooks for coats and scarves. 

Her footsteps were slow, like her body was trying to catch up with the realization forming in her chest. This wasn’t just a house. This was their house.

Then she saw it. The reading nook. Tucked into a quiet corner near the back window was a cozy alcove, framed with soft shelves and a plush chair with a blanket already thrown over the arm. Her hand flew to her mouth.

“I… I used to curl up like that by the heater on snow days…” she murmured, eyes darting to Ling, who nodded once, silent but proud.

“And complain that your back hurts because the wall was too cold,” Ling added softly, the smallest smile tugging at her lips. “This one’s insulated. I made sure.”

Orm’s throat caught.

Next was the kitchen. Orm walked into it like it might vanish if she moved too fast.

The island was wide, almost comically so, with enough space for cutting boards, mixing bowls, and three open recipe books, all at once. The counter stretched out beneath soft pendant lights, and she could already picture them here. Bickering over which pasta to use. Stealing bites from each other’s bowls. Ling standing at the stove while Orm sat at the edge, swinging her legs and sneaking pieces of fruit, a cocoa mug in hand.

Just like before.

“God,” Orm whispered, running her fingers along the smooth surface. “It’s exactly how I imagined it.”

“I remember everything you said,” Ling replied, quiet. “Even the part where you insisted it had to be wide enough for us to argue properly.”

Orm huffed out a teary laugh, still tracing the island like it was holy. Her steps carried her through the archway into the hallway, her heart growing with each turn.

And then, she found the window seat.

Her breath caught.

It was nestled between two tall windows that looked out onto a small garden. The seat was padded in pale cream cushions, big enough for two, and framed by gauzy curtains. The morning light streamed in, soft and gold, just like it used to in their condo back in Canada.

Orm stepped forward and sat slowly, her hand brushing the cushion beside her.

“We used to fall asleep like this,” she said, voice barely audible. “You’d read documents. I’d pretend to read but end up curled on your shoulder…”

Ling knelt down beside the seat, her voice steady, full of something tender. “You told me once you wanted something like that forever. A place to wake up together every morning. So I built it.”

Orm’s heart was aching in the most beautiful way. Her eyes shimmered as she looked at the woman in front of her, the same woman who used to hand her cocoa on freezing days, who made room for her on crowded couches, who remembered every tiny, silly wish Orm ever voiced aloud in passing.

And now, here she was. Giving it all back in wood and glass and stone. In a house built from their past, for their future.

Orm leaned back against the window frame, blinking rapidly. “You built us, ” she whispered. “This whole place... It’s us.”

Ling reached up and tucked a strand of hair behind Orm’s ear. Her thumb lingered against her cheek. “I wanted you to have a home that felt like a love letter.”

And oh, that was exactly what it was. A home written in rooms and doorways, in breakfast corners and sunlight patches. A home that held every laugh, every quiet touch, every late-night conversation, and soft morning start they’d ever shared.

Orm’s chest bloomed with warmth. Her whole body pulsed with it. She looked at Ling then; her architect, her anchor, her impossibly gentle surprise of a person. Her Lingling Kwong.

And in that moment, she couldn’t stop the smile that curved through her tears. God, she was so damn lucky to be hers.

Orm hadn’t even noticed when Ling stepped away.

She was still seated on the window seat, fingers pressed lightly against her lips, overwhelmed by the house, their house, and everything it meant. Her heart was full, stretched wide and warm, and still it swelled as footsteps padded softly back into the room.

Then—

“Orm.”

The sound of her name, spoken so gently, pulled her gaze up.

Ling stood just a few feet away, but something in her eyes had shifted. There was a softness there, deeper than usual, wrapped in something reverent. Ling looked a little nervous, her thumb brushing over something inside her pocket, but her gaze never wavered. She took a breath and stepped forward.

“You once told me you didn’t need a big gesture. That love, to you, was in the small things. A mug of cocoa on a hard day. A hand held during storms. Someone who remembers where you leave your glasses and what side of the bed you curl toward in your sleep.”

Orm blinked, heart suddenly thudding louder in her chest.

Ling smiled then, soft and steady, and knelt in front of her, not yet on one knee, just grounding herself in front of Orm, her hands resting on her thighs.

“I took that to heart, you know,” Ling continued. “And every day since, I’ve tried to show you, not just tell you, that I’m that someone. That I’ll always be that someone.”

She reached inside her pocket slowly… and pulled out a small, elegant box. 

It was the softest rose gold, with delicate embossing along the edge. Orm’s style exactly, subtle and refined with just a touch of whimsy. She knew, in that moment, Ling must have spent months finding the perfect one.

The box opened with a quiet click. And inside, nestled against velvet, was a simple, stunning diamond ring. Clean and classic. No unnecessary flair, just timeless beauty. Just like them.

Orm’s breath caught. Her hand flew to her chest. And Ling… her eyes never leaving hers, finally shifted onto one knee.

“Orm Kornnaphat Sethratanapong,” she said, voice a little shaky, but sure. “Will you marry me?”

Time slowed.

Orm stared at her, at the love of her life, kneeling there in the home they built from nothing but dreams and devotion. And all she could think was yes . A thousand times yes . Her voice caught in her throat as the tears came faster than she could stop them.

She nodded, fiercely. “Yes. Yes, you idiot. What took you so long?”

Ling laughed, full and bright, her shoulders finally relaxing as emotion washed over her. Her eyes, glassy with tears, never left Orm’s face as she took Orm’s hand and slipped the ring onto her finger with care, with love, with a touch so reverent it made Orm’s heart ache in the best way. It fit perfectly, like it had always been waiting for that very spot.

And then Ling stood, slowly, as if savoring the moment. Orm rose with her, not letting go of her hand. For a second, they just stared at each other, suspended in quiet disbelief that this …. this life, this love, was really theirs.

Then Orm surged forward. Their lips met in a kiss that was soft at first, trembling with joy and awe. Ling’s hands cupped Orm’s cheeks, thumbs brushing away tears that hadn’t stopped falling. Orm’s arms circled around Ling’s waist, pulling her in as if she needed to feel every inch of her just to be sure this was real.

It wasn’t rushed. There was no urgency. Just the kind of kiss that said I’ve waited for this. I’ve dreamed of this. I’m yours.

Ling deepened it just slightly, her lips parting against Orm’s in a silent promise. Orm tilted her head, chasing more of her, sighing into the warmth of it. The kiss melted from tender to lingering, to something that curled in their chests like the softest fire, steady, sure, and endlessly warm.

When they finally broke apart, it was only by a breath.

Orm leaned her forehead against Ling’s, eyes closed, whispering, “That’s not how I imagined you proposing. This one was better.”

Ling grinned, her thumb brushing along Orm’s jaw. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Orm murmured. “You’re such a show-off. I love you so much.”

“I love you more,” Ling said, and then kissed her again, just to prove it.

This time slower. 

This time certain.

Like they had all the time in the world. 

Here, in a house stitched from memories. In a room filled with morning light. In the only place that had ever truly felt like home.

They ended up sitting on the floor of the empty living room, surrounded by sunlight and silence, still dazed from all the emotion. Orm leaned against Ling’s shoulder, her eyes glassy, cheeks flushed from laughing and crying in equal measure. The ring on her finger sparkled faintly in the afternoon light; delicate, perfect, hers.

“It still feels surreal that you built this for us…” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper, as if saying it too loudly might shatter the moment.

Ling turned to her, smiling softly, and pulled her closer until Orm was nestled against her chest. Her chin rested lightly on top of Orm’s head, arms wrapped around her like a shield from the world.

“No,” Ling said gently. “We built this, long before a single brick was laid. Every day with you shaped this home. You designed this, you told me your visions. I just… made it real.”

Orm looked up at her, eyes shimmering. Ling leaned in and kissed her again, slowly, tenderly. It was a kiss like the house itself: not flashy, not rushed, just steady and full of love. A quiet seal on everything they’d built together.

When they pulled apart, their foreheads stayed pressed, their breaths warm against each other.

Then, with that signature Ling tone, dry but affectionate, she murmured, “So… should we start arguing about paint colors now? Or wait till we’ve moved in?”

Orm let out a breathy laugh, wiping a tear from her cheek with the back of her hand. “God, I missed fighting with you over stupid things.”

“Excuse you, paint is not a stupid thing,” Ling replied, mock-offended. “It’s an emotional commitment.”

“Oh, now you care about color palettes?”

Ling kissed her again in response, quick and playful this time, before pulling her tighter into her arms.

“You really weren’t joking when you said you wanted to marry me, the day you first met my parents,” Orm teased, a soft smile playing on her lips.

Ling chuckled, her eyes warm as she nodded. “Told you I meant every word.”

And there, on the floor of the house they built with love and memory, laughter and shared dreams, they stayed. Wrapped in sunlight and soft promises, wrapped in each other. No furniture yet, no curtains, no pictures on the wall, but it already felt like home.

Because it was.

Because they were.

And as the sun dipped low outside their windows, casting golden light across the bare walls, they sat wrapped in each other, two hearts, one home, and a forever that had already begun.

In the middle of their empty living room, laughing, kissing, and already debating paint colors, they realized forever didn’t need grand promises. 

Just the two of them, building a life, one soft moment at a time.