Work Text:
It was the first week of senior year at Bangkok International High and everything felt too loud. The hallways were packed with people who all seemed to already know each other, the AC was working overtime and still losing, and the announcements were playing over the speakers even though no one was listening.
Milk Pansa was trying very hard to be invisible. She had her head down, her notebooks and textbooks clutched to her chest, and her glasses kept sliding down her nose because she was too nervous to push them up properly. She was not new. She had been here since freshman year. But senior year felt different. Everything counted more now. College applications, final grades, the last time she’d do all of this. She worked part-time at her aunt’s restaurant on weekends to help out, so she was already tired before the week even started.
She was halfway to her homeroom when someone crashed into her. Books went everywhere. Papers scattered. Milk made a small noise that was half gasp and half apology. “Oh my god I’m so sorry,” a voice said above her. Bright, clear, and a little panicked. “Are you okay? I wasn’t looking. I was texting and walking which is the dumbest thing I’ve ever done.”
Milk looked up and immediately regretted it because the person standing there was Love Pattranite. Love who was student council vice president. Love who was on the cheer team and whose art was on the front page of the school website. Love who everyone knew.
“I’m fine,” Milk mumbled, scrambling to pick up her papers. Her face was hot. “It was my fault too. I was looking down.” Love crouched down to help her. She smelled like vanilla and something clean. “No it wasn’t. I literally ran into you.” She gathered the papers and handed them back, and her fingers brushed Milk’s for a second. “You’re in my math class, right? Third period?” Milk blinked. “Uh. Yeah. How did you-” “I pay attention,” Love said with a small smile. “Even when I’m running people over.”
They ended up walking to class together because Love said she was headed that way anyway. Milk believed her about 30 percent. “So,” Love said as they walked. Her voice was easy, like talking to people was the most natural thing in the world. “Are you nervous about senior year? Because I am. My mom keeps asking me about colleges and I keep pretending I have a plan.” Milk clutched her books tighter. “I’m nervous about everything,” she admitted quietly. “Grades. Tests. What happens after.” Love nodded. “Same. But hey, we’ve got each other in math, right? That class is gonna kill us.” Milk almost smiled. “Probably.”
Third period came and went in a blur of equations and Love passing Milk a note that just said “we’re gonna survive this” with a doodle of a stick figure drowning in numbers. Milk kept that note.
After that, it became a pattern. Love would wait by the door after math and they’d walk to their next classes together. Sometimes they talked. About teachers, with Milk complaining in a fast whisper and Love laughing and shushing her. About college, with Love being honest in a way that surprised Milk. “I don’t know what I want to do,” Love said one day, leaning against the lockers. “Everyone expects me to have an answer but I don’t.”
Milk nodded. “Me neither. My aunt wants me to study business for the restaurant but I like science.” “You should do science,” Love said immediately. “You’re really smart. Like, annoyingly smart.”Milk ducked her head. “Shut up.” “Never,” Love said, grinning.
And someties they didn’t talk. They’d just walk. The hallway would be loud around them but in their little bubble it was quiet. Milk liked that.
Lunch was the hardest part. The cafeteria was chaos. Milk usually ate in the library because it was quieter and she could study. She was there on Thursday with her notebook and a sandwich when Love appeared with a tray. “Is this seat taken?” Love asked, even though the table was empty.
Milk looked up, startled. “No. I mean, no one’s sitting there.” “Good,” Love said, sitting down. “The cafeteria is too much today. Too many people asking me about the fundraiser.” She took a bite of her rice. “Do you always eat here?” “Most days,” Milk said. “It’s quiet.” Love hummed. “I like quiet.”
That was the first of many library lunches. Sometimes Love would talk about student council stuff, rolling her eyes but still clearly caring. Sometimes she’d ask Milk about science, and Milk would get excited and explain too fast and with too many hand gestures until Love was laughing.
“Slow down, professor,” Love would say. “I’m trying to keep up.” “Sorry,” Milk would mumble, but she didn’t really sound sorry.
The weeks passed. Midterms came and went. Milk survived. Barely. Love texted her the night before the big math test; “Don’t panic. You got this. Also bring snacks.” Milk did. She brought two packs of crackers. She gave one to Love without thinking. Love took it and smiled. “Thanks. For the crackers and the confidence boost.”
After midterms, the school announced the winter fair. Student council was in charge. Love was in charge of the art booth. She was stressed about it.
“I don’t know if it’s good enough,” she said one afternoon, sitting on the steps outside with Milk. They were supposed to be at club but both of them had skipped. “It’s good,” Milk said firmly. “I saw your sketches. They’re really good.” Love looked at her. “You really think so?” “I do,” Milk said. And she meant it.
The day of the fair was cold and bright. The whole school was out on the field. There were booths and music and people everywhere. Milk was helping her science club with a volcano demonstration that she was 90 percent sure was going to fail. She was adjusting the baking soda when she heard her name. “Milk!”Love was there, wearing a student council badge and paint on her fingers. “Come see the art booth. Please. I need a second opinion and everyone else is lying to me to be nice.” Milk followed her. The art booth was full of color. Paintings, sketches, a big banner that said“Welcome Winter” in letters that were clearly Love’s Handwriting. “Well?” Love asked, bouncing on her feet. “It’s amazing,” Milk said honestly. “You did all this?” Love’s ears went pink. “Yeah. Well. With help.” “It’s really good,” Milk repeated. “I’m proud of you.” Love looked away for a second. “Thanks. That means a lot coming from you.”
Later, when the fair was winding down, the lights flickered. Then went out. The whole field went dark except for string lights and phones.
People gasped. Then started laughing. Milk froze. She hated the dark. Hated crowds when she couldn’t see. A hand found hers. Warm and steady.
“It’s okay,” Love’s voice said, close to her ear. Calm. “It’s just the generator. Happens every year.” Milk exhaled. “Right. Every year.” They stayed like that until the lights came back. When they did, Love let go, but slowly. “You good?” Love asked. Milk nodded. “Yeah. Thanks.”
After the fair, things got busy. College applications. Finals. The end of the year creeping up. Milk was stressed all the time. Love noticed. One day after school, Love didn’t walk her to class. She walked her to the roof instead. It was technically off limits but Love knew how to get there.
“Why are we-” Milk started. “Sit,” Love said, patting the concrete. “Five minutes. No homework talk.” So they sat. The sky was orange. The city was loud below them but up here it was quiet. “I’m scared,” Milk said suddenly. The words came out before she could stop them. Love didn’t say anything. Just bumped her shoulder against Milk’s. “About college. About leaving. About all of it,” Milk continued, voice small. “I know,” Love said softly. “Me too.” They sat there until the sun went down. Neither of them said much. They didn’t need to.
The last day of school came too fast. There were speeches and photos and people crying. Milk stood to the side, taking it all in. “Hey,” Love said, appearing next to her. She was holding two cups of milk tea. One with extra honey. “For you.” Milk took it. “You remembered.” “I remember everything about you,” Love said, and then immediately looked like she regretted saying it out loud. Milk’s heart did something weird. “Oh.” “Yeah,” Love said, rubbing the back of her neck. “So. Um. I was wondering. If maybe. After graduation. We could still do this. The walking to class thing. Except not to class. Just. Walking.” Milk stared at her. “Are you asking me to hang out?”
“Maybe,” Love said. “If you want.” Milk smiled. Big and real. “I want.”
Graduation came. They threw their caps. They took pictures. Milk’s aunt came and cried. Love’s family came and cheered really loud. After, they found each other by the tree in the courtyard. The same tree from the first day. “So,” Love said. “College is far.” “Yeah,” Milk said. “But not that far.”
Love nodded. “Good. Because I’m not done walking with you yet.” Milk bumped her shoulder against Love’s. “Me neither.”
Summer started. They texted every day. Sometimes about nothing. Sometimes about everything. Love sent pictures of her art. Milk sent pictures of experiments that went wrong. In August, before they both left, they went back to the school. It was empty. Quiet. They sat in classroom 3B. The desks were pushed together. “Remember this?” Love asked.
“Yeah,” Milk said. “You explained question 8 to me here. Ten times.” “Worth it,” Love said. They stayed until the sun set. Then they walked out together, like they always had.
Now it’s fall. Milk is at university studying science. Love is at an art school two hours away. They visit on weekends. Milk still gets nervous. Love still talks too fast when she’s excited. But every Sunday night, they call. And Love always says the same thing: “Tell me about your week, professor.”
And Milk always answers.
Because some things don’t end when school does. Some things just keep going. Quiet, and steady, and real.