The past few days had been… calm.
Not the kind of calm that felt peaceful. No, this one felt suspicious, like the quiet before something decided to break.
Wut sat on the edge of his bed, staring at nothing in particular.
He and Phol had talked more. Not a lot, just enough to fill the silence between them. Small conversations. Casual questions. Nothing deep.
And yet—
Every time Phol got close, it happened.
That strange feeling.
Like his heart would pause, just for a second… and then suddenly race, beating too fast, too loud, like it was trying to catch up with something it had missed.
Wut pressed a hand lightly against his chest.
Do I have feelings for him?
The question slipped out before he could stop it.
He frowned.
That's stupid.
Was it though?
I mean… I could—could like him. But what if it's just because I owe him? Or… I'm afraid of him?
That didn't sound right either.
Phol had never done anything to make him afraid. If anything, he was careful. Too careful sometimes.
And that debt?
It wasn't even real anymore. It had started as something simple. Just acting normal. Just staying.
So why did it feel like something more now?
Wut groaned and fell backward onto his bed, dragging a pillow over his face.
"ANYWAY—GOOD MORNING, WUT, GET OUT OF BED—"
The door burst open.
"What?!"
Wut shot up, heart jumping into his throat.
Phol stood at the doorway, slightly out of breath, his eyes scanning Wut quickly.
"Wut, are you alright?"
Oh.
It's him.
Wait—why is he here?
"I meant… are you fine?" Phol corrected, his tone softer now.
No. I am not, Mr. Confusing Human Being.
"Yeah," Wut said quickly. "I'm fine. Why?"
"I heard something fall upstairs. It sounded like… a phone."
That feeling again.
That stupid, sudden pressure in his chest.
Wut looked away. "Oh… really? That's weird."
Phol relaxed slightly, letting out a quiet breath. "I'm just glad you're okay."
There it was again.
Wut clenched his hands slightly.
Why does he keep saying things like that?
To distract himself, he glanced down.
And froze.
His phone.
On the floor.
Cracked.
Not just cracked—destroyed. The screen was split in jagged lines, the camera lens shattered like glass under pressure.
"No way…"
A familiar voice echoed in his head immediately.
"How many times have I told you—don't put your phone on your bed while you sleep!"
Pheet.
Loud. Annoying. Impossible to forget.
Wut groaned.
"This is the worst…"
This wasn't even the first time.
The first time had been in middle school. He'd gotten a new phone, stayed up all night texting his friends, then passed out with it still on his bed. Pheet had been more upset than he was, going on a full lecture about responsibility like he was giving a TED Talk.
And now—
Here he was again.
Different house. Different life.
Same mistake.
"Do you need a new one?" Phol asked, stepping a little closer.
Wut hesitated. "I guess… yeah. But I'm keeping this one too."
Phol nodded once. "Fine. As you wish."
He turned, walking back toward the door, then paused.
"Get ready. Come down for breakfast. We're leaving after."
"You got it, boss," Wut replied, not even trying to sound enthusiastic.
The phone store smelled like plastic and new beginnings.
Wut wandered through the aisles, scanning rows of devices that all looked the same after a while.
None of them felt right.
He was still staring at a display when suddenly—
A hand grabbed his shoulder.
Wut flinched slightly, turning around.
"You're looking in the wrong place."
Phol.
Of course it was him.
No one else would dare touch him like that.
No one else would be allowed to.
"Come here," Phol said, guiding him to another section. "Which one do you want?"
Wut blinked, a little caught off guard.
"Uh… thanks."
He glanced at the phones again, but his mind drifted.
How strong is this guy, seriously?
The ride home was quiet at first.
Too quiet.
Then Phol spoke.
"Orientation is tomorrow. You remember, right?"
Of course I remember.
Wut leaned his head against the window.
"Well, I didn't forget," he muttered. "But don't bring school topics into my moment of grief."
"…Your moment of grief?"
"My phone died."
Phol didn't reply.
Silence settled again, filled only by the soft hum of the car.
After a moment, Wut shifted.
"Can I play music?"
"Sure," Phol said. "What do you want to listen to?"
"Heartbreak songs."
"…What?"
"I said heartbreak songs."
"I heard you."
A pause.
Then a quiet sigh.
"Take my phone. Play whatever you want."
" Thanks."
The rest of the drive turned into something entirely different.
Wut sang like he had something to prove. Loud. Dramatic. Completely immersed.
Meanwhile, Phol sat there, occasionally glancing at him like he was trying to solve a puzzle that kept changing shape.
Back home, they settled in the living room.
Wut focused on setting up his new phone, transferring whatever data he could salvage. Phol, on the other hand, worked quietly with the broken one, trying different ways to get it to respond.
Time slipped past them unnoticed.
The afternoon faded into evening.
Somewhere between silence and shared space, something softened.
It felt… easy.
Too easy.
After dinner, Wut spoke again.
"Do you have wine?"
Phol looked at him briefly, then stood without a word.
A few minutes later, he returned with two glasses.
He handed one to Wut.
"Don't drink too much."
He only filled it halfway.
Wut stared at the glass.
Then at Phol.
Then—
He drank it all in one go.
Phol blinked, clearly surprised.
Wut placed the empty glass down slowly, his fingers tightening slightly around it.
Something inside him was unraveling.
Too many thoughts.
Too many questions.
Too many feelings he didn't understand.
He looked up at Phol.
His eyes stung.
"…Can I kiss you?"
His voice was quiet.
Unsteady.
And his eyes—
They were full of something he couldn't even name.