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The physics classroom was not supposed to be occupied during lunch break.
That was the first problem.
The second problem was that Pim had insisted on coming here “for five minutes only,” because she claimed she’d left her highlighter inside.
Aaron already knew this was a lie. Pim did not lose things. Pim collected stationery the way other people collected limited-edition sneakers—reverently, alphabetised, and with receipts.
“Five minutes,” Pim repeated, marching ahead like a general with a tote bag. “In, out, retrieve the neon-yellow stabilo, and we are free.”
“It’s not even neon,” Mali muttered. “It’s… radioactive banana.”
Niran made a thoughtful noise. “Radioactive Banana is my drag name.”
Aaron didn’t dignify that with an answer. He adjusted his grip on his iced drink, because the condensation was making the cup sweat like it knew what kind of poor decisions he was about to participate in.
They reached the door.
Mali, who had been quiet in the specific way she got quiet when her brain was running disaster simulations, suddenly grabbed Aaron’s arm so hard he nearly sacrificed his drink to the linoleum.
“Stop,” she whispered, violent with urgency.
They froze in a clump just outside the doorway.
The classroom lights were on.
Inside—
Ajarn Panachai sat at his desk with Ajarn Jiruntanin sat beside him in a student chair.
They were grading papers together.
All four students immediately ducked down behind the half-open door like spies in a low-budget movie—except none of them had the coordination, and Aaron’s knee bumped the metal doorstop with a sharp clink.
They all went rigid.
No one inside looked up.
Niran, mouth practically pressed to Aaron’s ear, whispered, “Why are they here.”
Aaron whispered back, “Because this is literally his classroom.”
“That’s not what I mean,” Niran hissed, like Aaron had committed a crime by using logic.
Pim shifted, slow and careful, then raised her head a fraction to peek through the narrow window in the door.
She froze.
Her eyes widened so dramatically Aaron expected them to detach and roll into the hallway.
“Oh my god,” Pim whispered.
“What?” Mali whispered urgently.
Pim turned back toward them, face pale with revelation.
“Something is wrong.”
Aaron frowned. “Wrong how?”
Pim pointed inside with trembling fingers.
“Look.”
They looked.
And then they understood.
Because Ajarn Panachai was… different.
Normally, their physics professor was a walking solar panel. He radiated warmth—smiling easily, gesturing with his hands, voice animated, energy bright enough to make fluorescent lights feel unnecessary.
But right now—
He was calm.
Composed.
Serious.
His posture was straight, shoulders relaxed but grounded, expression focused as he flipped through papers with neat, precise movements. His pen moved in controlled lines, and even the way he turned a page looked efficient, like he’d rehearsed it.
The literature professor leaned slightly toward him, pointing at a paragraph with a capped pen.
“This section lacks structural cohesion,” Mark said in a low voice.
Junior nodded once. “Yes,” he replied quietly. “The argument jumps making it messy.”
His voice was lower too. Measured. Controlled. Like each word had been smoothed down before it left his mouth.
Aaron blinked.
“…He sounds like Ajarn Jiruntanin,” he whispered.
Niran sucked in a quiet gasp. “It’s like they're synchronizing.”
Mali grabbed Pim again like Pim was a flotation device. “WHY IS HE SO CALM,” she whispered, as if calmness was illegal.
Pim’s eyes were wild. “THIS IS NEW PERSONALITY UNLOCKED.”
Inside the room, Mark reached over and gently pushed Junior’s glasses back up the bridge of his nose, where they had started to slide again— a familiar, automatic gesture by now.
“You really need to get these adjusted,” he murmured, voice threaded with quiet affection.
Junior glanced toward him, the corner of his mouth lifting. “I keep forgetting,” he said softly. Then, after a beat, “Maybe we could go this weekend?”
Mark’s fingers lingered for half a second longer than necessary, brushing against Junior’s temple as he straightened the frames. Even after all this time — after shared mornings, late nights, lesson plans scattered across the dining table, and years of calling each other husband — he still found excuses to touch him.
Junior didn’t pull away.
He never did.
Instead, he leaned ever so slightly into the contact, instinctive and trusting, like he belonged exactly there. Mark’s chest tightened in that familiar way — the quiet awe that somehow hadn’t faded with time.
“You’d think,” Mark said, softer now, “a fully grown adult with two degrees could remember to take care of his own glasses.”
Junior huffed a small laugh. “I do take care of them.”
“You lose them at least twice a week.”
“That’s because someone keeps moving my things.”
Mark raised an eyebrow. “Oh, so now it’s my fault?”
Junior’s eyes warmed, fond and bright behind the lenses Mark had just fixed. “You married me. Everything is technically your fault. You brought this upon yourself.”
Mark snorted, but his hand didn’t drop right away. His thumb brushed once, absentmindedly, along Junior’s cheekbone — a touch so natural it barely registered as deliberate.
“Weekend,” Mark agreed quietly. “We’ll go.”
Junior nodded, gaze lingering on him for a moment longer than the conversation required — soft, steady, full of the kind of love that came from years of choosing each other over and over again.
The gang collectively short-circuited.
Niran mouthed silently: THEY’RE TOUCHING.
Aaron mouthed back: THEY ARE LEGALLY MARRIED, HAVE YOU FORGOTTEN THAT?
Pim clutched her chest like she’d been shot by an academic cupid. “This is the hottest and cutest academic thing I’ve ever seen,” she whispered.
Mali nodded weakly. “Yes. Plus did you hear how soft Ajarn Jiruntanin was speaking?”
Inside, Junior leaned back slightly, stretching his shoulders with a quiet sigh. A few strands of hair had escaped his usual neat style and were now doing whatever they wanted, which was apparently “look unfairly good.”
Mark glanced at him immediately. “You’re tired,” Mark said.
Junior shook his head. “Just a long morning.”
“You slept late.”
Junior turned his head slowly. “You also slept late.”
“That was your fault.”
Junior’s ears went pink so fast Aaron nearly laughed out loud from shock.
The gang froze.
Niran grabbed Aaron’s arm hard enough to cause mild nerve damage and mouthed: DID YOU HEAR THAT.
Aaron nodded faintly.
Unfortunately.
Junior muttered, eyes down, “You didn’t complain.”
Mark’s mouth curved—not a full smile, but dangerously close.
“No,” Mark said calmly. “I did not.”
Pim’s soul left her body and briefly hovered near the ceiling tiles.
Mali whispered, “WE SHOULD NOT BE LISTENING TO THIS.”
Nobody moved.
Junior picked up another paper. “This one is good,” he said, voice gentle again. “Clear thesis.”
Mark leaned closer to read.
Their shoulders touched.
Neither reacted.
Domestic. Automatic.
Then Aaron noticed, under the desk, Junior’s hand resting lightly on Mark’s knee. Not hidden. Not dramatic. Just… present.
Aaron stopped breathing.
Niran followed his gaze and began to vibrate like a phone on a metal table.
Pim’s fingers clamped around Mali’s forearm. “THEY’RE TOUCHING AGAIN,” she whispered.
“They’re always touching,” Aaron whispered back, voice failing him. “They’re married, that's normal behaviour.”
“But this is academic touching,” Pim insisted. “It’s different.”
Inside, Junior tilted his head slightly. “You’re strict,” he said.
Mark raised an eyebrow. “You like that.”
Junior flushed deeper. “I did not say that.”
“You didn’t need to.”
Junior’s foot nudged Mark’s ankle under the desk. Small. Mischievous. Like a wink.
Mali whispered, “I can’t handle this.”
Niran whispered, “I’m witnessing peak marriage.”
Pim whispered, “This is National Geographic but for professors.”
Aaron whispered, “Please never say that again.”
Mark picked up Junior’s iced coffee and slid it toward him without looking.
“Drink,” he said.
Junior obediently took a sip.
Aaron’s brain did a hard reset.
“He just—” Aaron whispered. “He just issued a command.”
Pim nodded solemnly. “And Ajarn obeyed, like it was natural instinct.”
Niran whispered, reverent, “Power dynamics.”
Mali slapped his arm without looking. “SHUT UP.”
Junior sighed suddenly and rubbed his eyes.
Mark’s expression softened immediately.
“Come here,” Mark murmured.
Junior leaned sideways instinctively.
Mark’s hand moved to the back of Junior’s neck, fingers pressing gently in a small massage—precise pressure, like he’d memorised the map of tension in Junior’s body.
Junior exhaled softly. “Oh,” he said. “That helps…a lot.”
The gang died.
Pim covered her mouth to keep from screaming.
Mali buried her face in Aaron’s shoulder.
Aaron swallowed, finally remembering morality. “We are violating privacy,” he whispered.
Nobody moved.
Because they could not.
After a moment, Junior straightened again.
“Better?” Mark asked.
Junior nodded. “Yes.”
Their eyes met.
A small smile passed between them. Quiet. Private. Complete.
And Aaron realised, with a jolt, that Junior wasn’t acting different at all.
This wasn’t a new personality.
This was simply the version of him that existed when he felt completely safe.
And Mark was the reason.
Junior’s gaze flicked toward the door.
Aaron’s heart stopped.
Junior squinted. “...Is someone there?” he called.
The gang exploded into silent panic.
Pim shoved Niran.
Niran tripped into Mali.
Aaron, acting on pure survival instinct, grabbed all of them—shirts, elbows, bags, the concept of their dignity—and dragged them down the hallway at record speed.
They didn’t stop running until they reached the stairwell.
Everyone collapsed against the wall, breathing hard, faces bright with exertion and second-hand scandal.
Pim clutched her chest. “I saw things,” she whispered.
Mali nodded. “I learned things.”
Niran said, solemnly, “Marriage is real.”
Aaron leaned his head back against the wall. “...We should never speak of this.”
Pim stared at him.
“We are absolutely speaking about this.”
Aaron sighed, because she was right.
They had just witnessed something rare.
Not just romance. Not just affection.
But equilibrium. Two people perfectly in sync.
And honestly?
It was terrifyingly beautiful.
🔬✨📚
Junior stood very still for about three seconds after the noise outside the door.
There had definitely been movement. A shuffle. A whisper. Then the unmistakable sound of multiple people trying to run quietly and failing.
He blinked once, then turned his head toward the door.
Mark didn’t look up from the paper he was grading.
“Your students,” Mark said calmly.
Junior turned back toward him. “You knew?”
“Yes. It’s quite obvious.”
“You didn’t say anything?”
Mark shrugged slightly. “They weren’t harming anyone. Probably just curious.”
Junior stared. “...They were spying on us.”
Mark’s mouth curved faintly. “As I said… just curious.”
Heat crawled up Junior’s neck.
“Oh my god,” he muttered, covering his face with one hand. “They saw everything.”
Mark glanced at him with a deadpanned look. “They saw us grading.”
“They saw you fixing my glasses and massaging my neck,” Junior said weakly.
Mark considered. “...Yes… and?”
Junior groaned and leaned forward, forehead nearly hitting the desk. “This is so embarrassing.”
Mark reached over and pushed his iced coffee closer again.
“Drink,” he said.
Junior obediently took a sip.
Then froze.
“…You’re doing that on purpose,” he accused, lowering the cup slowly.
Mark raised an eyebrow. “Doing what?”
“That voice.”
Mark’s expression remained perfectly neutral. “I don’t know what you mean.”
Junior squinted. “You absolutely know what you’re doing.”
A twitch at the corner of Mark’s mouth betrayed him.
Junior slumped back. “They’re going to talk about this for months,” he said.
“Probably,” Mark agreed.
Junior ran a hand through his hair—more dramatic than necessary, and he knew it. His hair, usually neat, had softened and fallen into his forehead.
Mark’s eyes tracked the movement automatically.
Junior noticed. “…What.”
Mark reached out and adjusted a loose section gently. “It looks better like this,” he said quietly.
Junior blinked. “…You like it messy?”
Mark paused, then answered with calm honesty. “I do.”
Junior’s ears turned bright pink. “That’s not fair.”
“You asked and I answered,” Mark said.
Junior stared at the ceiling like it contained an emergency exit. “I can’t believe they saw you being soft,” he said.
Mark’s gaze steadied on him. “I am always soft with you.”
Junior’s heart did a stupid flip.
He looked back at Mark. “You’re going to kill me one day,” he said softly.
Mark reached down and squeezed his knee once under the desk.
“Unlikely,” he replied.
Junior inhaled, held it, then let it go.
“Okay,” he said, voice smaller. “Help me not die of embarrassment.”
Mark picked up another paper. “Continue grading.”
Junior groaned. “That’s not going to help.”
“It’s a practical advise,” Mark said, unbothered.
Junior leaned sideways until his shoulder bumped Mark’s. This time, he didn’t pretend it was an accident.
Mark didn’t move away.
Junior smiled, tired and grateful, and let his forehead rest there for half a second longer than strictly professional.
🔬✨📚
Pim slammed the door behind them dramatically.
“We need a meeting,” she announced.
Niran nodded urgently. “Emergency meeting.”
Mali slid down the wall, face red. “I’m not okay.”
Aaron leaned against the railing, trying to look like the only sane person left. “...We invaded our professors’ privacy,” he said.
Pim pointed at him. “No. We witnessed history.”
Niran nodded. “Correct.”
Mali whispered, “Did you see Ajarn today. His hair was down.”
Pim made a strangled sound. “And the silver glasses. He looked—”
“ILLEGAL,” Niran finished.
Aaron closed his eyes briefly. “He always looks good.”
“Not like that,” Mali insisted. “Today he had calm husband energy.”
Aaron blinked. “That is not a scientific term.”
“It should be,” Pim said. “And Ajarn Jiruntanin—why is he so elegant doing nothing.”
“He was just sitting,” Niran agreed.
“But sitting beautifully,” Mali said, offended.
Aaron rubbed his face. “They were grading papers.”
Pim leaned forward, dead serious. “No. They were married.”
Silence.
Because that was, unfortunately, accurate.
Mali whispered, “When Ajarn Jiruntanin touched his neck…”
Niran grabbed the railing. “I ascended.”
Aaron muttered, “You almost screamed.”
“I screamed internally, I kept my cool.” Niran said proudly.
Pim paced back and forth.
“Okay, we need to analyze.”
Aaron groaned. “We do not need to analyze.”
“We absolutely do,” Pim said. “Observation one: Ajarn Panachai has two modes.”
Mali nodded. “Yes.”
“Teaching sunshine mode,” Pim said, counting on her fingers. “And married calm mode.”
Niran added, “Married mode is hotter.”
Aaron choked. “You cannot rank our professors.”
Pim ignored him again.
“Observation two: Ajarn Jiruntanin is secretly soft.”
Mali whispered, “So soft.”
Niran added, “Dangerously soft.”
Aaron reluctantly said, “…Yes.”
Pim froze mid-pacing, eyes widening. “Wait.”
They all looked at her.
“We got caught.”
Aaron’s stomach dropped.
“…Yes,” he said.
Mali covered her face. “Oh no.”
Niran whispered, “We’re dead.”
Pim straightened her shoulders. “We survive this.”
“How?” Aaron asked.
“We pretend nothing happened,” Pim said.
“That’s impossible,” Mali whispered. “We saw too much.”
Niran nodded gravely. “We cannot return to ignorance.”
Aaron sighed, then surprised himself by laughing—small, helpless. “He looked… safe,” he admitted, voice quieter. “Ajarn Panachai. With Ajarn Jiruntanin.”
The others stilled.
Pim’s expression softened. “Yeah.”
Mali nodded. “It wasn’t just… spicy. It was… nice.”
Aaron looked down at his hands. “They’re stable,” he said. “Like equilibrium.”
Niran blinked. “Physics metaphor.”
“It fits,” Aaron said.
Pim exhaled. “Okay. Plan: tomorrow we act normal.”
Niran snorted. “Normal is dead.”
Mali groaned. “I can’t look either of them in the eye.”
Aaron pushed off the railing. “We can,” he said, more firm than he felt. “We will. And we will never say ‘National Geographic but for professors’ ever again.”
Pim looked unrepentant. “No promises.”
Mali sniffed. “Also—Pim.”
Pim turned.
Mali said gently, “You still don’t have your highlighter.”
Pim froze.
Niran burst into laughter. “We risked our lives for nothing!”
Aaron covered his face. “This is my karma.”
Pim slid down the wall, devastated. “My radioactive banana…”
Aaron sighed, but it came out almost fond. “We’re never doing this again,” he said.
Pim looked up, eyes shining with chaos. “We’re absolutely doing this again.”
Aaron stared at her.
He knew, with quiet certainty, that his life was over.
🔬✨📚
The next day arrived with the cruelty of a scheduled exam.
By the time Aaron reached campus, the group chat had already detonated.
PIM: DO NOT LOOK AT THEIR HANDS.
NIRAN: i will look respectfully.
MALI: i’m sick.
AARON: act normal.
When they reached the physics classroom, Aaron’s pulse spiked. The door was open, students filing in, everything ordinary—except now Aaron could see the room like it had hidden compartments: the desk, the chair, the exact sightline where yesterday had happened.
Ajarn Panachai stood at the front, greeting students as they came in. He was back in sunshine mode—bright smile, easy laughter, a “good morning” for everyone like he was handing out extra points for breathing.
And Aaron couldn’t unlearn what he’d seen underneath.
Junior noticed their little cluster and waved. “Ah! My lunch-break adventurers.”
Aaron froze mid-step. Pim froze mid-breath. Mali’s soul attempted to leave. Niran, traitor, waved back.
“We’re fine,” Aaron said too fast.
“We slept great,” Pim added, lying with the confidence of a politician.
Junior’s smile tightened—just a fraction—as memory caught up with him. “Right,” he said brightly. “Sit, sit. Fun lesson today.”
Pim looked personally attacked by the phrase fun lesson.
Junior launched into a lesson on waves, drawing a sine curve on the board.
“Physics is about patterns,” he announced. “Repetition. Predictability.”
Pim made a strangled sound.
Aaron elbowed her with a warning.
“—and unexpected resonance!” Junior added happily.
Mali dropped her pen.
A soft knock sounded at the open door.
Ajarn Jiruntanin stepped in.
The room went quiet in the way it went quiet when winter entered.
Mark carried a folder and a takeaway cup. He nodded at Junior. “You left this in the office.”
Junior’s eyes widened. “Oh—thank you.”
Mark placed the folder on the desk. Then, without looking at the class, he slid the cup beside Junior’s hand.
“Eat,” Mark said.
Not loud. Not harsh. Just absolute.
Junior’s ears went pink. He looked like he wanted to argue.
He didn’t.
He took the cup.
Pim made a sound like she was about to burst into flames. Mali covered her mouth. Niran leaned forward behind them, vibrating with glee.
Mark turned to leave, then paused and let his gaze sweep the room—measured, precise—landing, inevitably, on the four students failing at oxygen.
His expression didn’t change, but Aaron felt, deep in his bones: I am aware. Behave.
Mark nodded once and left.
The door clicked shut.
Junior cleared his throat like a reset button. “Okay! Waves. Resonance. Moving on.”
The class slowly returned to breathing.
The gang did not.
🔬✨📚
At the end of class, students began packing up, chairs scraping and bags zipping as the usual rush to escape filled the room. Aaron was already halfway out of his seat when Junior’s voice carried across the classroom.
“Aaron—Pim, Mali, Niran. Can you four stay a moment?”
All four of them froze.
Pim’s eyes went wide. Mali immediately grabbed Aaron’s sleeve. Niran mouthed, we’re dead. Aaron briefly considered pretending he hadn’t heard.
They walked down together anyway, like a group heading toward sentencing.
When the last of the other students filed out and the door clicked shut, Junior let out a long breath. His cheeks were still faintly pink, but his expression wasn’t angry — just… embarrassed.
“Okay,” he said, voice lower now. “Yesterday.”
All four of them visibly deflated.
Junior lifted a hand quickly. “You’re not in trouble. None of you are. But that was… a lot.”
“Yes,” Aaron admitted, because there was no possible argument against that.
Pim bowed her head. “We are very sorry, Ajarn.”
Mali nodded rapidly. “Extremely sorry.”
Niran added, “Historically sorry.”
Junior pressed his lips together, clearly fighting a smile before he sighed. “Do you know how difficult it is to be taken seriously when your students have witnessed… domestic behaviour?”
All four of their brains stalled on domestic behaviour.
“We didn’t mean to spy,” Aaron said quickly. “We just—Pim needed a highlighter—”
“Pim did not need her highlighter,” Junior said, deadpan, turning his gaze toward her.
Pim shrank. “I did not need my highlighter.”
For a moment Junior just looked at them — really looked — and whatever he saw seemed to soften something in him.
“You all looked stressed today,” he said more gently. “Is it because of… us?”
The four of them exchanged glances.
Aaron hesitated. He could have lied. Any of them could have. But something about Junior’s tone made honesty feel safer than excuses.
“It’s just,” Aaron said awkwardly, “you’re always so on. Like… cheerful. Energetic. And yesterday you weren’t, and it wasn’t scary, it was… quiet. Like you got to rest.”
Mali nodded. “It felt… nice.”
Niran added, “Human. Respectfully.”
Pim said softly, “We didn’t realise teachers also need that.”
Junior blinked, clearly caught off guard. Then he laughed — small, real, almost shy.
“Oh,” he said, like that landed somewhere tender.
Aaron rushed on, embarrassed. “We’re really sorry. We won’t spy again.”
Junior’s smile returned, warmer this time. “Good. If you do, I assign extra homework.”
All four of them gasped.
“That’s violence,” Niran said.
“That’s education,” Junior corrected cheerfully.
Then his expression softened again, something quieter settling in his eyes.
“And… if any of you ever feel like you have to be ‘on’ all the time,” he said, looking between them, “you can rest too. You’re allowed.”
The words hung in the air.
Aaron swallowed hard. Mali blinked quickly. Pim nodded. Niran looked at the floor.
“We’ll remember that,” Aaron managed.
Junior smiled and nodded, some of the earlier tension finally leaving his shoulders. “Good. The four of you are free to go. Just—” he added, pointing lightly toward the door, “remember to close it behind you this time. I don’t need any more wandering eyes peeking in.”
A collective groan rose from the four students, and a low chuckle escaped Junior before he could stop it.
“We’re really sorry again, Ajarn,” they said in unison, bowing.
“Apology accepted,” Junior replied easily. Then he glanced down at the lunch container on his desk and huffed a small laugh. “Now go. I need to eat this before I get in trouble.”
That earned a few startled smiles — the image of another teacher scolding him apparently very believable.
The four of them turned and headed for the door, relief finally settling in now that the conversation was truly over. But Aaron paused with his hand on the handle, something tugging at him.
He turned back.
“Ajarn?”
Junior hummed, looking up.
Aaron hesitated, then said quietly, honestly, “He’s… good for you.”
There was a brief silence.
Something in Junior’s expression softened — not embarrassed this time, not flustered. Just warm. Certain.
Then he said, soft as a secret, but brighter than before:
“He is.”
🔬✨📚
The four of them didn’t say anything for the first few steps after leaving the classroom.
The door clicked shut behind them, and they walked down the corridor in a tight cluster, like they’d just collectively survived something traumatic.
Then Pim grabbed Aaron’s arm.
“Okay,” she whispered urgently. “Emotional debrief. Right now.”
Aaron let out a long breath. “Well for starters at least we’re not in trouble.”
All three of them sagged with relief — again, even though they had technically already heard that part.
Mali pressed a hand to her chest. “I genuinely thought when he said ‘yesterday’ that my soul left my body.”
Niran nodded solemnly. “When he said domestic behaviour, I achieved enlightenment.”
Pim slapped a hand over her face. “I am never recovering from that phrase.”
Aaron groaned. “Please don’t repeat it.”
“Domestic behaviour,” Niran whispered again.
“You’re the first one who’s going to die,” Aaron said, pointing at him.
They reached the stairs, starting down slowly as the adrenaline finally began to wear off.
Mali glanced back toward the classroom door. “He really wasn’t mad.”
“No,” Aaron said. “Just embarrassed.”
Pim frowned slightly. “Which is worse.”
Aaron shook his head. “No. It wasn’t like that. He was… worried.”
That got their attention.
“Worried?” Mali asked.
Aaron nodded. “He said we looked stressed today. Like it was because of them.”
Niran blinked. “Oh.”
Pim’s expression shifted, guilt creeping in. “We did look stressed.”
“We were stressed,” Mali said. “We committed accidental espionage.”
Aaron huffed a quiet laugh despite himself. Then his voice softened. “He also said… if we feel like we have to be ‘on’ all the time, we’re allowed to rest too.”
That landed harder than anything else.
They reached the next landing before anyone spoke.
Mali’s shoulders dropped slightly. “That’s… nice.”
Niran nodded. “I did not expect emotional support after committing crimes.”
Pim looked down at the steps as she walked. “He meant it.”
“Yeah,” Aaron said quietly. “He did.”
There was a small pause.
Then Pim glanced sideways at him. “You told him, didn’t you.”
Aaron hesitated. “Told him what.”
“That Ajarn Jiruntanin is good for him.”
Aaron stopped mid-step. “How do you—”
“Because you’re Aaron,” Pim said simply.
Mali smiled faintly. “What did he say?”
Aaron looked down, a little embarrassed.
“He said… ‘He is.’”
For a moment, none of them spoke.
Then Niran exhaled softly. “Okay. That’s… devastating.”
Mali nodded. “They’re really in love.”
Pim pressed her lips together, visibly emotional but trying to hide it. “We are never spying again.”
Niran looked at her. “We are absolutely spying again.”
“Respectfully,” Mali added.
“Romantically supportive,” Niran clarified.
Aaron rubbed his face. “Please. I am begging you. Just be normal.”
Pim nodded solemnly. “We are flies on the wall.”
Mali added, “Respectful flies on the wall.”
Niran finished, “Who mind their business.”
Aaron stared at him.
Niran paused. “…Most of the time.”
They kept walking toward lunch, the earlier panic fully dissolving now into something warmer — relief, embarrassment, and a strange, quiet comfort none of them quite knew how to name.
Because beneath the chaos, they had seen something real.
Two people who weren’t perfect. Who got embarrassed. Who needed rest. Who took care of each other anyway.
Safe haven.
And somehow, that made the world feel a little less sharp.
🔬✨📚
Two days later, the gang attempted what Pim called “damage control” and what Aaron called “a guaranteed public execution.”
They were outside the physics classroom again, this time in broad daylight, with no crouching, no spying, and—most importantly—no door-cracking espionage.
Pim held a small paper bag like it contained contraband.
“What’s that,” Aaron asked, suspicious.
“A peace offering,” Pim said. “For Ajarn.”
Mali peeked into the bag. “Are those… cookies?”
“Homemade,” Pim said proudly. “I followed a recipe.”
Aaron’s suspicion deepened. “You? Followed?”
Pim glared. “I am capable of being a normal human.”
Niran nodded. “This is character development.”
They stepped inside.
The physics professor was at his desk, sorting worksheets. When he saw them, his face lit up automatically—sunshine mode, on cue.
“Hello!” he said. “You’re early.”
Pim bowed slightly, dramatic and sincere at the same time. “Ajarn, we would like to formally apologise.”
Junior blinked, then laughed, a little helpless. “Formally?”
“Yes,” Pim said, as if she had prepared legal documents. “For the incident. We recognise we crossed a boundary. We have learned. We have grown.”
Mali nodded with the earnestness of someone who had genuinely been spiritually altered by a neck massage. “We are sorry.”
Niran clasped his hands. “We are sorry and also—” He stopped at Aaron’s glare. “Just sorry.”
Aaron cleared his throat. “We didn’t mean to intrude,” he added, quieter. “It was stupid.”
Junior’s smile softened, and for a moment he looked tired in a way that made Aaron’s chest tighten—like the cheer wasn’t a mask, just a job he did well.
“It’s okay,” Junior said. “I was embarrassed, but… I understand curiosity.”
Pim thrust the paper bag forward like a sacrificial offering. “Also, I made cookies.”
Junior’s eyes widened. “You baked?”
Pim’s chin lifted. “Yes.”
Junior took the bag carefully, like it might explode. He peeked inside.
“They’re star-shaped,” Mali whispered, as if it mattered.
Junior laughed again. “Thank you,” he said, genuinely touched. “That’s… very sweet.”
From the doorway, a voice said, “That’s a form of bribery.”
All four students snapped their heads around.
The literature professor stood there, expression neutral, as if he hadn’t just materialised like a judgmental ghost. He held a stack of papers and regarded the scene with clinical calm.
Pim squeaked. Actually squeaked.
Mali went rigid.
Niran looked like someone had unplugged him.
Aaron forced himself not to flinch. Mostly.
Junior coughed. “Ajarn Jiruntanin.”
Mark’s gaze slid to the cookie bag. “Bribery,” he repeated.
Junior’s ears went pink. “It’s not bribery. It’s an apology.”
Mark’s eyes moved to the students. “They’re apologising?”
“Yes,” Pim said, voice high. “We are. With cookies.”
Mark stared at her.
Pim stared back, sweating through her soul.
Then Mark said, “Acceptable.”
Pim’s shoulders dropped so fast Aaron thought she might fold in half.
Junior looked at Mark, faintly incredulous. “Acceptable?”
Mark set the stack of papers on the desk with precise care. “They acknowledged wrongdoing. They offered restitution. They will not repeat the behaviour.”
Niran whispered, too quiet to be heard by anyone who wasn’t cursed with good hearing, “He’s grading our apology.”
Aaron elbowed him again.
Junior’s mouth twitched, like he was trying not to laugh. “Thank you,” he told Mark, voice softening without permission.
Mark’s expression did not change.
But his hand—just for a second—brushed Junior’s wrist as he reached for the top sheet on the desk. A small, habitual touch. Like punctuation.
Junior went still. Then he resumed moving, as if nothing had happened.
All four students saw it.
All four students experienced a simultaneous reboot.
Mali’s eyes went watery.
Pim grabbed Aaron’s sleeve with trembling fingers.
Niran made a noise that might have been a prayer.
Aaron closed his eyes briefly, because he did not deserve this.
Mark looked at them again.
The calm returned.
Aaron, surrendering, said quickly, “We’ll leave now.”
“Yes please,” Mark agreed.
Junior blinked. “Khun Mark.”
Mark’s gaze flicked to him. “Yes.”
Junior’s voice dropped, instinctive. “Be nice.”
Mark’s eyes softened by a fraction. “I was.”
Junior’s mouth fell open in outrage, then he laughed—quiet, fond, helpless.
The students fled.
In the hallway, Pim pressed both hands to her face. “HE APPROVED THE COOKIES.”
Mali whispered, reverent, “He said acceptable like a blessing.”
Niran nodded. “We have been judged and found… cookie-worthy.”
Aaron exhaled. “We survived.”
Pim lowered her hands, eyes shining with mischief. “And we got new data.”
Aaron stared at her. “Pim. No.”
Pim pointed back toward the classroom. “Did you see the wrist touch.”
Mali whispered, “It was so casual.”
Niran whispered, “It was so married.”
Aaron rubbed his face. “Respectful flies,” he reminded them, like a prayer.
Pim nodded solemnly. “Respectful flies,” she echoed.
Then, after a beat, she added, “With excellent observational skills.”
Aaron sighed.
Character development, my ass.