Keng had taken responsibility for Ping's injury like it was the most natural thing in the world.
He walked Ping to class, waited outside when lessons ended, and stayed close even when there was no real reason to.
Wherever Ping needed to go, Keng was already there, calm and unhurried, as if this was simply how things were meant to be.
By the time there was a free period, Ping felt a strange mixture of comfort and panic. He liked that Keng was around, but part of him wanted to protest-to tell him it wasn't necessary.
Keng, however, had already made his decision.
"Let's go," he said softly,
and Ping found himself following, shuffling along beside him.
Keng guided him to the old pavilion. It was quiet. Only the wind whispered through the trees, and the wooden floorboards creaked faintly beneath their feet.
The familiar space wrapped around Ping like a soft blanket, but it was strange-he didn't feel like he deserved it. He shifted slightly, gathering courage.
"P'Keng... you don't have to take me everywhere," he said softly, eyes focused on the floor.
"I can take care of myself."
Keng looked at him, then smiled, a light teasing curve to his lips.
"Why?" he asked lightly.
"You don't like seeing me?"
Ping's eyes widened.
"N-no! It's not like that!"
The words spilled out before he could stop them.
"I... I like you. I like seeing you around me. I just-I know someone like me doesn't even deserve your presence, but I want you to..."
Ping froze.
Too much.
He had said too much.
Heat rushed to his face as he looked away, biting down on his lips. He wished the ground would open up and swallow him whole.
"I-I mean," he hurried to fix it, voice shaky,
"what I meant is that P'Keng is very nice, and I really appreciate it."
Silence followed.....
Ping's heart pounded as he sensed movement.
When keng stood up, ping was sure that was it- that he had ruined everything.
Keng smiled noticing ping's nervousness.
He knelt in front of ping, one knee touching the ground, his movements careful and unhurried. Gently,he adjusted the bandage around ping's ankle,his fingers warm but respectful.
"You're really cute when you're nervous," Keng said casually.
Ping froze.
Stunned.
Before he could even react, Keng continued, voice calm, sincere.
"I don't mind walking you around," he said.
"It's fine... as long as it's you."
Ping's chest tightened.
Silence....
Only the sound of the breeze and distant footsteps outside.
Ping's mind raced.
He didn't know how to respond, didn't know what to say, didn't know if words could ever be enough.
****
By the time the lesson for the day was over,Ping was still gathering his things when the classroom door slid open.
Keng was already there.
The room went strangely quiet for a second. Girls looked up, eyes widening, soft gasps following as whispers spread. Some blushed openly, glancing between Ping and Keng as if they were watching something forbidden.
Keng ignored it all.
He walked straight to Ping, placed a steady hand near his elbow, and helped him stand. Then he bent slightly, picked up Ping's bag, and slung it over his shoulder as if it belonged there.
"Ready?" Keng asked.
Ping nodded, acutely aware of the stares burning into his back.
They left together, every pair of eyes following them out.
Ping's cheeks burned, but he couldn't look away. He felt... watched, noticed, yet protected.
On the way home, Ping tried to hide it, but his steps grew uneven, strain showing more with every few minutes.
Keng noticed immediately.
He stopped suddenly, turning to face Ping.
"I'll carry you," Keng said simply.
Ping's eyes widened.
"W-what? No, it's okay. I can walk, I'm fine."
Keng raised an eyebrow, calm but certain.
"You're clearly not."
Before Ping could protest again, Keng bent slightly, his back steady and strong.
"Come on."
Ping hesitated, face burning.
"P'Keng..."
"Ping," Keng said calmly.
"Get on."
No teasing this time. No jokes. Only certainty.
Heart pounding, Ping carefully hopped onto Keng's back. Keng adjusted his grip instinctively, holding him securely, and then started walking.
The world around them blurred.
Their classmates, the distant laughter, even the occasional passing car-they all faded.
There was only the warmth of Keng's back, the steady beat of his steps, and Ping's own heartbeat racing in tandem.
They didn't talk. The silence wasn't awkward. It was full. Full of unsaid words, stolen glances in the periphery, and the steady comfort of being close to someone who understood you completely.
When they reached Ping's house, his mother was outside, busy with her chores.
She looked up just in time to see them, and Ping immediately slid down from Keng's back, mortified.
"Good evening, Mom," Ping said quickly, trying to straighten himself.
His mother's eyes softened with curiosity.
"Is this your P'Keng?" she asked.
"Mom," Ping whispered urgently.
"Lower your voice."
Keng smiled and bowed politely.
"Good evening, Aunty."
Ping's mother laughed softly, resting a hand on her son's shoulder.
"He talks about you a lot," she said kindly.
"Thank you for taking care of my baby."
"Mom," Ping groaned, face burning bright red.
"That's enough."
"It's okay," Keng said gently.
"Please take care of him; he hurt his ankle."
"No problem," she replied, eyes soft, curious, and full of questions she would ask later.
She turned to Keng.
"You can come here anytime if you want to."
Keng's eyes flickered briefly to Ping before he smiled.
"Can I?"
"Of course," she replied warmly.
Keng bowed again politely.
"Goodbye, Aunty" ,
then turned to wave at ping.
Ping stood there, heart racing with slight embarrassment.
Keng paused for a moment,then turned back to ping, making sure his mom wasn't watching.
He gave a small, teasing wink.
Ping's face burned bright red, without a word he spun around and leaped inside the house, clearly flustered.
Keng chucked quietly to himself, shaking his head, unable to hide his laughter.