Ping's mom's voice echoed from the living room, sharp and urgent, cutting through the quiet stillness of the house.
"Ping, let's go! We'll arrive late!"
"I'm coming. Give me a minute," Ping replied.
But he didn't move. He stood in the middle of his room, completely still, as if his body had forgotten how to follow instructions. His luggage sat neatly packed beside him, ready to go. Everything was prepared. Everything was in place.
Except him.
His eyes wandered slowly around the room, taking in every detail like it was the first time he was seeing it-and the last.
The faded curtains that swayed slightly with the breeze. The desk where he had spent countless nights studying. The quiet corners that had held his silence for years. Every part of this place was familiar. Every part of it felt heavy. His gaze shifted toward the window, then beyond it-to the space outside.
That place.
The one spot his eyes always found, no matter how much time passed. The last place. The last time he saw Keng.
Ping's chest tightened slightly at the memory, but his expression didn't change. He simply stared for a moment longer, as if waiting for something that would never come again. Then he exhaled softly.
Without another thought, he reached down, grabbed his bag, and walked out of the room.
-
The journey to Bangkok felt longer than it should have. As the car moved farther away from home, the scenery slowly began to change. Familiar streets faded into highways. Small buildings gave way to towering structures. The quiet calm of his hometown was replaced by the constant movement of the city.
Everything felt louder. Busier. Alive in a way that made Ping feel strangely out of place.
"Ping," his mom's voice came gently, breaking through the silence that had settled between them.
He turned slightly, looking at her.
"Bangkok is a big city," she continued, her tone filled with concern.
"You have to take care of yourself, my baby-"
"Mom," Ping interrupted, his voice calm but firm.
She paused, surprised.
"When are you going to stop calling me 'your baby'?" he asked lightly, a faint hint of amusement in his tone.
"I'm an adult now, you know."
She smiled at that, though the worry in her eyes didn't fade.
"Okay, okay," she said, raising her hands slightly in surrender.
"Adult or not, you still have to promise me something."
Ping didn't respond, but he was listening.
"You'll have a roommate. Don't argue with him. Be patient. Be kind. And make sure you-"
"Mom," Ping said again, softer this time. She stopped.
"I heard you," he added gently.
"That's enough."
For a moment, she simply looked at him, then nodded slowly. The car began to slow down as they approached the university dormitory.
Students moved in and out of the building, some carrying boxes, others laughing and chatting excitedly.
A new beginning.
Ping stepped out of the car, taking in the unfamiliar surroundings. His mom followed immediately. Despite his protests, she insisted on walking him inside, checking everything like she always did. She examined the room carefully-touching the bed to see if it was soft enough, adjusting the curtains, making sure the windows were properly closed.
"Mom," Ping sighed, watching her move around.
She ignored him.
After a moment, Ping smirked slightly.
"Would you like to be my roommate instead?"
She paused, then laughed softly, the tension in her shoulders easing.
"Don't tempt me," she said.
She walked over to him, adjusting his collar with careful hands.
"Earlier, I wanted to say..." she began, her voice gentler now.
"Make sure you have a good relationship with your roommate. And everyone around you. Make friends, okay?"
Ping nodded.
"Okay, Mom. Take care of yourself. Call me when you get home."
She pulled him into a hug-tight, warm, and lingering longer than necessary. Ping didn't pull away.
Eventually, she let go. And just like that, she was gone.
-
Ping dragged his luggage fully into the room, the quiet settling around him again.
Then-
The door opened.
"Are you... my roommate?"
Ping asked.
Standing there was a boy with bright eyes and an easy smile.
"Yes! I'm Rain," he said cheerfully.
"Nice to meet you!"
Ping blinked once.
"O...kay," he replied slowly.
"I'm Ping. Ping Pong."
Rain burst into laughter as if Ping had just told the funniest joke in the world.
Ping stared at him for a second.
"What's there to laugh about you have a funny name yourself ", he thought as he turned away and began unpacking his things.
-
That night passed quickly.
Too quickly. Morning came before Ping was ready for it.
"Ping! Ping! Ping!" Rain's voice rang loudly through the room.
"We're going to be late!"
Ping opened his eyes slowly, irritation written clearly across his face.
"Rain," he said flatly,
"what's your course of study?"
"Fine Art," Rain replied immediately.
"And you?"
Ping stared at him.
"You woke me up," he said slowly,
"and you don't even know my course?"
Rain blinked.
"Oh."
Ping let out a tired sigh.
"Anyway... I study Fine Art too."
Rain's face lit up instantly.
"That's great! Oh, did you hear? A new transfer student arrived. A sophomore from England. They say he's really handsome. Everyone's talking about him!"
Ping frowned slightly.
"Isn't this guy a freshman like me?"he thought.
"How does he already know everything?"
****
A voice echoed through the hallway.
"All freshmen, please head to the theater art studio for orientation!"
Ping grabbed his bag.
"Let's go," Rain said excitedly, practically bouncing out the door.
-
The orientation hall was filled with students.
A sophomore stood at the front, giving instructions.
"You'll be registered by seniors afterward."
Rain leaned closer to Ping.
"I really hope I get registered by senior handsome," he whispered.
"Senior handsome?" Ping repeated, rolling his eyes.
After orientation, students were called one by one.
Ping sat quietly, waiting his turn.
Time passed.
Students came and went. The room slowly grew quieter.
"Seriously..." Ping sighed internally, rubbing his temple.
Then-
Someone stopped in front of him.
Ping frowned slightly, already annoyed at the delay.
He muttered something under his breath, ready to complain.
He lifted his head.
The words died instantly.
The person standing before him was tall, composed, and carried a presence that felt...
familiar.
Too familiar.
Ping's breath caught.
The scent reached him first. Clean. Subtle. Intoxicating.
His fingers curled slightly against his palm. Slowly, almost unwillingly, Ping lifted his gaze higher. His eyes met the person's face.
Time seemed to stop.
His heart stuttered.
"P'Keng...?"