Work Text:
Namping had a rule.
Never fall in love with your best friend.
It was a stupid rule, really.
Especially because he'd already broken it.
He had broken it somewhere between the first chocolate he slipped into Keng's notebook and the hundredth time Keng had fallen asleep beside him during a lecture.
Somewhere between sharing notes and sharing earphones.
Between walking to the bus stop together after class and sitting beneath the rain tree while Keng played his guitar.
Somewhere between Can you help me with this assignment? and Have you eaten?
Namping had fallen in love.
Quietly.
Carefully.
Hopelessly.
And because he was a coward, he'd disguised it as friendship.
"Chocolate."
Keng looked up from his book.
"What?"
Namping pushed the little bar across the desk.
"Take it."
"You bought this for me?"
"No."
Keng raised an eyebrow.
Namping sighed.
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Because I felt like it."
Keng smiled.
"You're weird."
He unwrapped it anyway.
Namping watched him take the first bite and looked down at his notes before Keng could see the smile on his face.
It was always like this.
Small things.
Stupid things.
Things that meant everything to Namping and probably nothing to Keng.
Keng saving him a seat.
Keng sending him pictures of his lunch.
Keng calling him when he couldn't understand an assignment.
Keng asking him to listen when he practiced a new song.
Keng casually saying, You're coming with me, right?
As though Namping would ever say no.
They were always together.
Everyone knew it.
"Where's Keng?"
"Namping knows."
"Has anyone seen Namping?"
"He's probably with Keng."
Their friends joked that they were practically attached.
Namping always laughed.
Keng always laughed louder.
Neither of them knew that every time someone said it, Namping's heart quietly whispered:
I wish.
---
He tried, occasionally, to find out if Keng liked someone.
He was never brave enough to ask directly.
Instead, he'd sneak questions into conversations.
"So, do you talk to anyone from Phayao?"
"Sometimes."
"Anyone special?"
Keng had looked at him then.
A little too long.
Namping's heart had jumped.
"Why?"
"No reason."
"You sure?"
"Yes."
Keng had smiled and gone back to his assignment.
Namping had spent the next three days wondering what that smile meant.
It was pathetic.
He knew it was pathetic.
But hope was a dangerous thing.
Especially when you were in love with someone who was kind to you.
---
Then, one afternoon, Namping heard it.
"Is Keng's girlfriend coming during winter break?"
He stopped outside the cafeteria.
His fingers tightened around the strap of his bag.
Another voice laughed.
"Probably. He said she's visiting."
Girlfriend.
The word settled inside him like a stone.
He stood there for several seconds.
Then he walked away.
He didn't ask Keng.
He couldn't.
That evening, when Keng found him beneath the rain tree, Namping smiled like nothing had happened.
"You disappeared."
"Had somewhere to be."
"You could've told me."
"Sorry."
Keng sat beside him.
He opened his guitar case.
"Want to hear the new song?"
Namping stared at his hands.
"Sure."
Keng played.
Namping listened.
And for the first time, he let himself imagine what it would be like if this was the last time.
The last time Keng played for him.
The last time they sat this close.
The last time Keng looked at him like he was important.
His chest hurt.
He hated himself for wanting more.
He hated Keng for making it so easy to want.
And most of all, he hated the possibility that someone else already had the place in Keng's heart that Namping had secretly been wishing for.
---
He started pulling away after that.
Slowly.
Painfully.
He stopped bringing chocolate.
He stopped waiting outside the lecture hall.
He stopped staying behind after class.
When Keng asked if he wanted to study together, Namping said he had plans.
When Keng asked if he wanted to walk home, Namping said he was meeting someone.
When Keng asked if something was wrong, Namping smiled.
"Nothing."
Keng noticed.
Of course he noticed.
"You're avoiding me."
"I'm not."
"You are."
Namping kept packing his books.
"Maybe I'm just busy."
"Since when?"
"Since now."
Keng stared at him.
Namping couldn't look back.
Because if he did, he knew he'd break.
---
Three days before winter break, Namping made a decision.
He would confess.
Not because he expected Keng to say yes.
He was almost certain he wouldn't.
But he couldn't carry it into another semester.
He couldn't spend the entire winter break wondering what might have happened if he'd been brave.
So he bought a small gift.
Nothing romantic.
A guitar pick.
Dark blue.
Keng's favourite colour.
He wrapped it carefully and kept it hidden inside his desk.
Then he wrote a letter.
He rewrote it seven times.
The first version was too desperate.
The second sounded too formal.
The third said too much.
The fourth made him cry.
The fifth simply said:
I love you.
He stared at those words for a long time.
Then folded the paper.
He would tell him on the last day.
Whatever happened after that, at least he'd know he'd tried.
---
The last day arrived too quickly.
Everyone was excited about the break.
The college halls were loud with plans.
Trips.
Parties.
Family visits.
Namping smiled when people spoke to him.
He answered when spoken to.
He even laughed.
But his hands wouldn't stop shaking.
Keng found him after their last lecture.
"You're quiet."
"I'm tired."
"Want to go somewhere?"
Namping's heart stumbled.
"Where?"
"The rain tree."
Of course.
Of course Keng would choose the place where Namping had fallen in love with him.
They sat beneath the tree as the winter afternoon slowly cooled.
Keng brought his guitar.
Namping brought the gift.
For almost twenty minutes, neither spoke.
Finally, Keng played the song he'd been practicing.
Namping listened with his hands clenched together.
When the last chord faded, Keng looked at him.
"So."
"So."
"Break starts tomorrow."
"I know."
"You're going home?"
"Yeah."
"Call me."
Namping smiled.
"Okay."
"And don't disappear."
The smile almost broke.
"I won't."
Keng looked at him carefully.
"Something's wrong."
Namping took a breath.
Then another.
His fingers trembled as he pulled the little wrapped box from his bag.
"I got you something."
Keng took it.
"Why?"
"Just open it."
He did.
The guitar pick rested in his palm.
Keng smiled.
"It's nice."
"I thought you'd like it."
"I do."
Namping nodded.
His throat felt painfully tight.
"Keng."
"Hm?"
"I need to tell you something."
Keng's smile faded.
"Okay."
Namping looked down at his hands.
Then finally forced himself to look at him.
"I like you."
Silence.
Not the comfortable kind.
The kind that made every second feel unbearable.
Namping swallowed.
"I mean..."
His voice cracked.
"I really like you."
Keng didn't move.
Namping laughed nervously.
"Actually, that's not true."
Keng's eyes softened.
Namping's own filled with tears.
"I love you."
There.
It was out.
The thing he'd carried alone for months.
The thing he'd hidden inside chocolates and shared lunches and guitar songs.
The thing he'd been terrified would destroy everything.
Keng looked devastated.
And somehow that hurt more than rejection would have.
"Namping..."
"Please don't."
Keng stopped.
"Don't say sorry yet."
Namping wiped at his eyes.
"I just want to finish."
Keng nodded.
"I know you don't feel the same."
His voice shook.
"I know. I knew, probably. You never did anything wrong. You were always just... you."
He laughed through the tears.
"And I was stupid enough to think maybe all those little things meant something."
"They did."
Namping looked at him.
Keng's voice was barely above a whisper.
"They meant something to me."
"Not the same thing."
Keng couldn't answer.
Namping nodded.
"Yeah."
He looked away.
"That's what I was afraid of."
For a moment, neither spoke.
Then Keng reached for his hand.
Namping let him.
It was warm.
Familiar.
Safe.
And suddenly unbearably painful.
"I don't want to lose you," Keng whispered.
Namping closed his eyes.
There it was.
The sentence he'd secretly dreamed of hearing.
And somehow it wasn't enough.
Because Keng wanted him.
Just not that way.
Namping slowly pulled his hand away.
"I don't know if I can do this."
Keng's eyes filled.
"Do what?"
"Be your friend."
The words came out broken.
"I want to. God, I want to. You're my favourite person."
He laughed bitterly.
"That's the problem."
Keng looked down.
"I don't know how to sit beside you and pretend I don't want more."
"Namping..."
"I don't want you to feel guilty."
"I don't."
"I know."
He wiped his face again.
"That's what makes it worse."
Keng looked at him.
Namping smiled through his tears.
"You didn't lead me on. You didn't promise me anything. You were just kind to me."
He breathed shakily.
"And I fell in love with you anyway."
The sun was beginning to disappear behind the buildings.
Namping stood.
"I think I need some time."
Keng nodded slowly.
"How much?"
Namping looked at him.
"I don't know."
He picked up his bag.
Then stopped.
"Don't wait for me."
Keng's face crumpled.
Namping looked away before he could see it properly.
Because if Keng cried, he'd stay.
And if he stayed, he'd keep hoping.
And if he kept hoping, he'd never get over him.
So he walked away.
He didn't look back.
Not even when he heard Keng call his name.
Not even when his phone began vibrating in his pocket.
He kept walking.
Because sometimes loving someone meant leaving before love turned into resentment.
And sometimes the person you loved most was the person you had to learn how to live without.
That night, Namping sat on his bed with the little box missing from his desk.
The letter was still there.
He unfolded it one last time.
Seven words stared back at him.
I hope someday you love me too.
Namping stared at them until his vision blurred.
Then he folded the letter carefully.
And put it away.
He never gave it to Keng.
Some things were better left unsaid.
Even after everything.