Keng had made up his mind. It wasn't something he announced. Not to his friends. Definitely not to Ping.
In fact, it was the kind of decision he knew he couldn't tell Ping about-even if he wanted to.
So he did it quietly.
Carefully.
Without leaving a trace.
He moved into the dorm room next door to Ping's.
No noise.
No attention.
No reason for anyone to question it.
Just close enough. Just enough to see him.
-
Every morning, before the sun fully rose and before the hallway filled with footsteps and voices, Keng would step out of his room.
In his hands, something small. A cup of Ping's favorite drink. Sometimes a snack he knew Ping liked. Sometimes both. And always- A note. Neatly folded. Carefully written. He would place them by Ping's door, making sure they were positioned where they wouldn't be missed. Then he would leave. Before Ping ever opened the door. Before there was any chance of being seen.
"Keep smiling. I hope you have a good day today."
Simple words.
But they carried everything he couldn't say out loud.
- At first, Ping thought it was a coincidence. Maybe someone left it there by mistake.
But when it happened again... And again... And again... He started to notice.
Someone knew exactly what he liked.
His favorite drink-always the right one. Snacks he didn't even realize he had mentioned out loud.
And the notes... They were always gentle. Warm. Never too much. Just enough to make his chest feel... strange.
Ping didn't know who it was. But he found himself thinking about it more than he expected.
Curious. And... a little flustered.
- At school that day, Rain nudged him excitedly, barely able to stay still.
"Omg, Ping! Look!" he whispered loudly.
"It's senior handsome!"
Ping didn't even look.
"Whatever," he muttered, rolling his eyes. Rain gasped dramatically.
"You're immune! Teach me your ways."
Ping ignored him.
But later, during lunch- Something shifted.
Keng walked past. Not toward him. Not stopping. Just... passing by. But that was enough. Ping felt it instantly. That same familiar flutter in his chest.
Annoying.
Unwanted.
Unavoidable.
Before he could stop himself, Ping stood up abruptly, his chair scraping slightly against the floor.
"Are you coming or not?" he whispered to Rain, already taking a step forward. Rain blinked.
"Wait-what-where-?"
But Ping was already walking. Not toward Keng. Just... away. As if distance would fix whatever that feeling was.
On his way out, Ping paused briefly, bowing slightly in greeting to Bank, Jinn, and Tao.
"Hi..." Tao started. But before he could say anything else- Ping was gone.
Tao blinked.
"...Wow."
Bank let out a quiet sigh, shaking his head.
"Oh man... you've got a long way to go."
Keng didn't respond. He just stood there, watching the direction Ping had gone, his expression unreadable. Then he exhaled softly.
Patience, he told himself.
He had all the time in the world. Didn't he?
-
Back at the dorm, the routine continued.
Every morning. Without fail.
A drink.
A snack.
A note.
And every day- Ping found them.
At first, he only took them. Then he started reading the notes more carefully.
Then... Sometimes- He replied. Short messages. Simple.
"Thank you."
"You didn't have to do this."
"Have a nice day too."
He would leave his response where the gifts usually appeared, not knowing if the person would see it.
But somehow- The next morning- There would always be a reply. And another gift. And another note.
Ping didn't know why... But it made him smile.
-
One morning-
Ping opened his door earlier than usual. Just as the familiar drink and folded note were being placed down. He froze. So did the figure in front of him. But only for a second. Then- They turned away. Quickly. Walking down the corridor without a word.
Ping blinked, his heart suddenly racing.
The figure was tall.
Broad shoulders.
Calm.
Every movement controlled, deliberate. And- Familiar. Too familiar.
"Keng...?"
the name formed silently in Ping's mind. His chest tightened.
No.
It couldn't be.
It couldn't be him.
Ping stepped forward instinctively, wanting a clearer look, wanting confirmation- But the figure didn't stop. Didn't turn. Didn't even hesitate. They disappeared down the corridor, leaving Ping standing there, his hand still resting on the door handle. His heart refused to calm down.
"Who...? Who is this person?"
The question lingered. Unanswered.
-
That night, Ping sat on his bed, staring at the cup and the folded note resting on his desk. The room was quiet. Too quiet. His fingers traced over the neat handwriting slowly, almost absentmindedly. A small smile tugged at his lips before he could stop it.
"Who are you...?"
His heart fluttered again.
Soft.
Unsteady.
From the other bed, Rain suddenly sat up, stretching lazily. His eyes landed on the drink immediately.
"...You've been staring at that thing for decades," Rain said, exaggerating as usual.
Ping stiffened.
"Mind your business."
Rain leaned over, squinting suspiciously.
"Is that another one from your secret admirer?"
"It's not an admirer," Ping replied too quickly.
Rain grinned instantly.
"Ohhh. Defensive," he teased.
"Definitely an admirer."
Ping grabbed the note and shoved it under his pillow.
"Go to sleep."
Rain laughed, clearly entertained.
"Hey, I'm just saying," he continued, lying back down.
"Whoever it is-they know you really well. Favorite drink, nice handwriting, daily gifts? That's dangerous."
Ping turned away, facing the wall.
"It's just someone being nice."
"Sure," Rain said, smirking even though Ping couldn't see him.
"And I'm not curious at all."
Silence settled between them. But it wasn't uncomfortable. Not entirely.
After a moment, Rain spoke again-this time softer.
"You know... it's kind of cute."
Ping pulled the blanket higher, hiding half his face. His ears burned slightly.
"Good night, Rain."
Rain chuckled.
"Good night, Ping. Sweet dreams-maybe about your mystery person."
Ping didn't respond.
The lights went off. Darkness filled the room.
But Ping didn't sleep immediately.
Instead, he reached under his pillow and pulled out the folded note. He held it gently in his hands, staring at it even in the dim light. His heart wouldn't calm down. Not even a little.
And as he closed his eyes- One thought lingered.
Clear.
Soft.
Unavoidable.
"Tomorrow... What will you leave for me next?"