Chapter Text
Dunk Natachai Boonprasert had no idea how he had ended up there.
He was outside the faculty buildings, waiting for his turn to register his data. Normally, he didn’t handle that kind of paperwork, but he had decided to start becoming independent. Because if he wanted to study Communications, he would have to pay for it with his own money.
That was what his parents told him before cutting off his financial support, using the excuse that he was already old enough to take care of himself. In reality, it was just a way to pressure him into staying in Computer Science and eventually joining the family business—something he didn’t want.
At first, they had agreed to let him study Communications… but with the idea that he would “change his mind eventually.” For two years, they insisted he still had time to switch majors or reconsider his future in the company.
Dunk refused again and again.
Until one day his parents gave him an ultimatum. —If you’re going to keep wasting your life on that degree, then stop doing it with our money.
So he gathered his courage and said he didn’t need their money—that he wouldn’t work in something he didn’t love.
That same night, he went to his friend Boom’s house, where the ingenious prodigy—and future accountant—helped him come up with a financial plan. The result was a huge sale of Dunk’s belongings to quickly raise money and secure a spot in the dorms near the faculty before all the spaces ran out. Of course, it would be a shared room… but it was better than sleeping on the street, although, ironically… now that almost sounded like a pretty attractive option.
The lady handed him the dorm assignment letter with the number 205. Dunk took it with a mix of exhaustion and anticipation he couldn’t quite understand.
When he arrived, he noticed that one of the rooms had already been occupied. However, the owner wasn’t in the apartment. Without much curiosity, Dunk decided to go look for his own room.
It was small compared to his room in his parents’ house, but it felt… comfortable. In fact, the whole apartment had a much nicer atmosphere than his own home. He sighed, dropping his suitcase onto the bed, and began unpacking his clothes and personal items. He sent Boom a message letting him know he had already settled into his new dorm, then left his phone charging and went to take a shower. There were at least two bathrooms, both with showers. One was outside his room, right in front of it, in the hallway leading to the small living room and kitchen. Across that same hallway there was another room, and at the back was the second bathroom—so that side was definitely his roommate’s.
Dunk didn’t dwell on it too much. The hot water relaxed him more than expected. He felt his mind stop racing in circles and leaned against the shower wall for a few seconds, letting the sound of the water fill the silence. His muscles relaxed first, then his breathing, and then his thoughts began to slow down more and more, as if someone had turned the volume of his mind down without warning.
“Just five more minutes…”
Dunk rested his head against the edge of the tub, feeling the heat wrap around him in a heavy, almost comforting way. Then hours passed…
The bathroom ceiling was blurry from the steam. It took him a few seconds to remember where he was, what he was doing, and worse… how much time had passed.
He shot up suddenly.
—“Huh…?”
The water was already lukewarm, almost cold.
—“No… it can’t be…”
He climbed out of the tub clumsily, grabbing the edge so he wouldn’t slip. Exhaustion hit him immediately, as if his body were scolding him for the stupidity of falling asleep there.
He came out of the bathroom quickly, wrapping himself in a towel while still half-dazed, and opened the door. The apartment air felt different as it hit him, and so did the smell. The kitchen… someone was cooking.
Dunk froze in the hallway. He heard the faint sound of something on the stove, the soft clink of a utensil against a frying pan. There was a light in the kitchen. A warm light that hadn’t been on before.
He swallowed.
“Ah… right.”
His roommate still hadn’t seen him.
He walked forward slowly, almost silently, following the smell. His stomach reacted before his mind did, letting out a small protest that made him frown.
—Great… —he muttered to himself—. I died in the bathtub and now I’m hungry.
He turned the corner of the hallway and stopped.
The kitchen was occupied.
A figure stood with their back to him, moving calmly between the stove and the counter. They were wearing simple clothes, their posture relaxed, as if they already belonged there. Dunk couldn’t see their face. He only watched as they turned off the heat and served food onto a plate with a kind of confidence that didn’t seem like someone who had just moved into a shared apartment.
The smell was stronger now. Real homemade food. None of that instant noodles or fast food stuff.
Dunk blinked slowly.
“Okay… this is new.”
He leaned carefully against the doorframe, not fully stepping into the kitchen.
The stranger set the plate down on the table and, as if sensing they were being watched, turned their head slightly.
Dunk didn’t move.
He just looked.
Because for some reason he couldn’t understand, the atmosphere of the apartment had shifted again.
It was Joong… his Joong.
No…
Not anymore.
His ex-best friend.
Dunk felt the air leave his lungs all at once. Memories came rushing in without permission, hitting him with a force he thought he had buried years ago.
Joong Archen had been his best friend for ten years. Since first grade. Since they were five and shared recess because neither of them knew who else to play with. They grew up together, learned to ride bikes, did endless homework, celebrated birthdays, and spent more time at each other’s houses than their own. For a long time, Dunk believed it would last forever… until it didn’t.
Because he fell in love with him, and that was never the real problem.
He never hated loving Joong. What he truly hated was the possibility that Joong would never feel the same.
Joong had always been the kind of person who smiled even when things were going badly. Kind, empathetic, with the strange ability to find something good in anyone. And because of that, he was also someone who got hurt easily—one comment about him or his family was enough to make all that patience disappear. When that happened, he acted before thinking, blinded by anger and pain. And Dunk was always there. He was the one who calmed him down. The one who reminded him those people weren’t worth it. The one who made him smile again.
Until he became the one who hurt him more than anyone else ever had.
It started when Joong got more friends, more invitations, more people interested in him. Dunk got scared. Not because he thought they would stop being friends overnight, but because for the first time he understood he could lose the place he had in Joong’s life.
He never had the courage to confess, and he couldn’t bear the idea of watching Joong fall in love with someone else. Just imagining Joong talking about another person with that smile was enough to feel something in his chest slowly break.
So he did the only thing he thought could protect him.
He pulled away.
At first it was small changes—new schedules, different clubs. Joong chose basketball and photography; Dunk joined the football team and the journalism club. Then came new friends, shorter conversations, hallways walked separately. He convinced himself it was normal, that it happened when you entered high school… but they both knew it wasn’t.
Joong looked for him for months. He texted him, waited after classes, asked again and again if he had done something wrong. Dunk never answered honestly. He just kept pulling away until one day Joong stopped looking.
After that, they only crossed paths by chance in school hallways—two strangers who had once been inseparable.
The worst part was realizing distance didn’t erase anything. The pain stayed there, silent and constant like a needle stuck in his heart—and he had been the one who drove it in.
With time, he convinced himself it would stop someday. That he would forget. That he would never feel that pressure in his chest again.
But he was wrong.
Because now, after all these years, Joong was standing in front of him again.
—Hi.
Joong’s voice pulled him out of his thoughts.
Dunk looked up.
Joong was watching him with an expression he could no longer interpret.
He had changed. He was taller than Dunk remembered, his shoulders broader, his hair slightly longer—just enough to frame his face and make his eyes stand out even more.
It was ridiculous. Five years without speaking. Five years trying to convince his heart he was over him. And it only took seeing him again to realize he hadn’t moved forward at all.
He was still in love with Joong Archen.
—Are you okay? —Joong asked again when he noticed Dunk still wasn’t responding.
Dunk blinked a few times before snapping back to reality.
—Yeah… sorry. I think I’m still a little dizzy. I fell asleep in the bathtub.
The silence barely lasted a second.
His stomach growled so loudly even he was surprised. He wanted to disappear. After five years of no contact, this was their first conversation—and he was already embarrassing himself.
Joong let out a low laugh. It wasn’t mocking. It was that soft laugh Dunk knew too well.
—Come —he said, gesturing to the table—. I made too much food anyway. I was planning to share it with my new roommate.
Dunk hesitated for a moment.
—Thanks…
He walked over slowly and sat down across from him.
—By the way… I’m Dunk.
Joong looked up from his plate, then smiled. A small, almost nostalgic smile.
—I know.
Dunk felt his heart lurch.
—I used to know you pretty well.
The silence that followed was heavier than the five years they had spent apart.
Because they both knew that sentence meant much more than what Joong had said out loud.
—It’s really good. —Thanks.
More silence.
Dunk stirred his rice with his fork before speaking again.
—I didn’t know you cooked.
—I learned after I moved out.
—Ah…
He nodded slowly.
Of course. Five years was enough time for someone to learn how to cook. Five years was enough to change completely.
—How long have you been living here? —Dunk asked.
—Since last semester.
—So… you already know the university pretty well?
—More or less.
The conversation kept dying every few seconds. It hadn’t been like this before. Back then, he could talk to Joong for hours without thinking about what came next. Now every question felt like an interview.
Dunk let out a nervous laugh.
—You still don’t talk much.
Joong looked up from his plate.
—You still talk too much.
For a second, they both smiled. Something small, instinctive—like for a moment they had gone back to being fifteen again.
But it disappeared just as quickly as it appeared.
Dunk played with his glass of water.
—I’m glad you’re doing well.
Joong took a few seconds before answering.
—Yeah?
The question caught Dunk off guard.
—Of course.
Joong set his utensils down.
—It’s funny. The last time we talked, you disappeared without saying a single word to me.
The air in the apartment seemed to freeze.
A knot formed in Dunk’s throat. He had imagined meeting Joong again countless times, but he had never once thought about how he would answer that question.
The silence that followed was different—heavier. More honest. More dangerous. Because now it wasn’t just the past between them. It was something neither of them had ever been willing to face.
Dunk felt the air in the apartment grow heavier. It felt like anything he said next could break something he wouldn’t know how to fix And as always, he did the only thing he knew how to do when things became too real.
He avoided it.
He cleared his throat, looking away.
—You… did you take cooking classes or something? —he asked suddenly, too fast, too forced.
Joong watched him in silence. He didn’t answer right away.
Dunk felt the mistake in the air before the response even came.
—Are you changing the subject? —Joong asked at last, his voice not loud but firm.
Dunk blinked.
—No, I just…—he stopped, because lying to Joong had never worked, not before and not now.
Joong calmly set his utensils down on the plate, as if he was already used to that kind of evasion.
—It’s fine —he said finally, too calm.
That made it hurt more for Dunk.
—We can talk about something else —Joong added, not looking away.
Dunk let out a small, uncomfortable laugh, lowering his gaze.
—Yeah… better.
Silence returned, but this time it was different. Less heavy, but not easier.
Joong went back to his food, though he didn’t seem as focused as before. Dunk, on the other hand, forced himself to eat a little, even though he couldn’t really taste anything.
After a few seconds, Joong spoke again.
—The dorm has rules.
Dunk looked up.
—Rules?
—No noise after midnight… and no dirty dishes left in the sink.
Dunk nodded.
—Sounds reasonable.
—It is.
A brief pause. Then Joong added, without raising his voice:
—And no overnight guests.
Dunk blinked.
—That’s a rule too?
—Yes.
The answer was simple, direct, too firm for something that was supposedly obvious.
Dunk looked at him a second too long.
—Do you have a problem with people bringing visitors over?
Joong didn’t look away.
—I have a problem with noise, mess… and people who don’t know how to respect space that isn’t theirs.
The air tightened slightly.
Dunk let out a light laugh, trying to ease the tension.
—Got it, Captain Order.
Joong watched him for a few seconds, then went back to his plate.
—I’m not joking.
Dunk lowered his gaze, but the smile stayed on his face a little longer than he expected.
There was something about that seriousness—something too familiar, and yet completely different from what he remembered.
Silence settled between them again, but it was no longer uncomfortable. Just… new. Like they were learning how to exist in the same space all over again.
Dinner ended without either of them knowing exactly when. There was no clear ending, no formal goodbye. Just the soft sound of dishes being collected, and that silence that slowly stopped feeling awkward.
Dunk was the first to stand.
—I think… I’m going to sleep —he said, scratching the back of his neck, as if he suddenly didn’t know what to do with his hands.
Joong nodded without fully looking away from the kitchen.
—Mhm.
Dunk hesitated for a second before turning toward the hallway, but he didn’t move immediately. He stayed there, as if waiting for something, as if searching for a way to say more without knowing what.
In the end, he only let out a small, awkward laugh.
—Good night.
Joong looked at him briefly.
—Good night.
That was all.
Dunk walked down the hallway, his steps slower than necessary, as if his body wasn’t entirely convinced it was supposed to leave. The bedroom door closed softly behind him.
Inside, the silence was different from the rest of the apartment—more closed off, heavier. Dunk stood for a few seconds before collapsing onto the bed without bothering to turn on the light. The white ceiling was barely visible in the dimness.
He took a deep breath. The whole day hit him at once—the reunion, the food, Joong’s voice, his gaze, five years compressed into a single table.
He closed his eyes.
—What a mess… —he murmured to himself, not sure if he meant it with frustration or relief.
In the kitchen, Joong finished tidying up without rushing. Water ran steadily in the background, constant. His movements were precise, automatic, but his attention was no longer really on the dishes.
He stood still for a moment, hands resting on the sink. The apartment was silent again.
Joong exhaled softly through his nose and kept washing, as if there was nothing else to do… as if he hadn’t just felt a tornado move through his emotions.