Morning came quietly, but not gently.
Wut woke up before his alarm, eyes opening to a ceiling that wasn't his. For a second, he just stared at it, mind blank, like his brain hadn't fully loaded yet.
Then it hit him.
Phol's house.
Right.
He turned slightly, the unfamiliar bed creaking under him. The room still looked exactly like it did last night—organized, clean, almost too put together. His suitcase sat open by the closet, only half unpacked.
Of course it was.
He had been too busy overthinking everything to finish.
Great. First night here and I already look messy.
Wut sat up, running a hand through his hair, exhaling slowly. His chest felt… weird. Not heavy exactly. Just—
Uneasy.
Why though? It's just a house. Just temporary.
He swung his legs off the bed and stood up, stretching slightly before walking toward the window. The morning light slipped in through the curtains, soft but bright enough to wake him properly.
It felt… calm.
Too calm.
Yeah no, something's wrong.
A knock came at the door.
Wut froze.
"...Yeah?"
"It's open."
Phol.
Wut hesitated for a second before turning the knob slightly, opening the door halfway. Phol stood there, already dressed, looking like he had been awake for hours.
Of course he did.
"Morning," Phol said, tone casual.
"Morning."
A pause.
They both just stood there for a second.
Wut blinked.
Phol blinked.
Silence.
Why is this awkward? It wasn't this awkward yesterday.
Phol cleared his throat slightly. "Breakfast is ready."
"Oh."
Another pause.
"…Okay."
Phol nodded once, then stepped back. "Come down when you're ready."
And just like that, he left.
Wut stared at the now-empty doorway.
That was… normal.
Too normal.
He shut the door slowly, leaning his back against it.
Why am I overthinking this?
Because everything about this was weird.
Living with someone he barely knew. Being suddenly placed here like it was all planned out. His parents acting like this was some kind of long-term arrangement.
And then there was—
Phol.
Wut pushed himself off the door.
Stop.
He got ready quickly, not wanting to think too much. A simple outfit, nothing too complicated. He glanced at himself in the mirror for a second before looking away.
Good enough.
When he finally made his way downstairs, the smell of food hit him almost instantly.
And—
"Finally," Pheet's voice echoed.
Wut stopped mid-step.
What.
He turned his head.
Pheet sat comfortably at the table, already eating like he lived there.
"…Why are you here?" Wut asked, eyebrows narrowing.
Pheet grinned. "Good morning to you too."
"No seriously. Why are you here?"
"I was invited," Pheet said, completely unbothered.
Wut slowly turned his head toward the kitchen.
Phol stood there, placing another plate on the table.
"…You invited him?"
Phol glanced up. "He showed up."
"That's not the same thing."
"It kind of is."
"It's not."
Pheet laughed.
Wut looked between them, already feeling a headache forming.
I just woke up.
"Sit," Phol said simply.
Wut hesitated… then sat.
Because the food looked too good to argue with.
Of course it did.
For a moment, things were quiet. The clinking of utensils, the soft hum of the morning—it almost felt normal.
Almost.
Until—
"So," Pheet started, leaning slightly forward, eyes glinting with mischief, "orientation day is soon."
Wut froze mid-bite.
Right.
Orientation.
He had almost forgotten.
No, I didn't. I just didn't want to think about it.
"I know," Wut muttered.
"You ready?" Pheet asked.
"No."
Phol let out a quiet chuckle.
Wut shot him a look.
"What?" Phol said, a small smile forming. "You'll be fine."
He says that like it's easy.
Wut looked back down at his plate.
"…Yeah."
But something about it didn't sit right.
Not the orientation.
Something else.
That uneasy feeling from earlier came back, settling quietly in his chest.
Phol noticed.
"You okay?" he asked.
Wut paused.
"…Yeah."
A lie.
A very obvious one.
Phol didn't push.
Of course he didn't.
Pheet, however—
"You don't look okay," he said bluntly.
"Thank you," Wut replied flatly.
"I'm just saying."
"Don't."
Pheet raised his hands slightly. "Alright, alright."
Silence fell again.
But it wasn't the same kind of silence as before.
This one felt heavier.
Wut pushed his plate slightly away, appetite fading.
Why do I feel like something's about to happen?
He didn't like that feeling.
Not at all.
Phol leaned back slightly, studying him for a moment before speaking again.
"If it's about staying here—"
"It's not," Wut cut in quickly.
Too quickly.
Phol raised an eyebrow.
"…Okay."
Wut exhaled, running a hand through his hair again.
"It's just—" he stopped.
What am I even supposed to say?
That he felt like he was walking into something he didn't understand?
That everything felt a little too planned?
That this "friend's son" situation still bothered him?
He looked up.
"…Your dad," Wut said suddenly.
Phol blinked. "What about him?"
"He knows my dad."
"Yeah."
"…How well?"
Phol frowned slightly, thinking. "Well enough."
Not helpful.
Of course it wasn't.
Wut clicked his tongue softly, looking away.
This is useless.
Phol watched him carefully.
"You're thinking too much," he said.
Wut scoffed.
"Wow. Really?"
Phol shrugged lightly. "You do that."
"…And you don't?"
"Not like you."
Wut stared at him.
Phol stared back.
Pheet looked between them like he was watching a tennis match.
"…This is entertaining," he whispered to himself.
Wut threw a napkin at him.
Pheet dodged.
Phol laughed.
And for a moment—
Just a moment—
That uneasy feeling faded.
Wut leaned back slightly, exhaling.
Maybe…
Maybe this wouldn't be so bad.
He glanced around the space again—the table, the light coming in, the quiet comfort of it all.
Then at Phol.
Then at Pheet.
"…Yeah," he muttered under his breath.
"I think I'll survive."
Of course he would.
Right?