Neither of them moved.
The air felt different.
Not heavier.
Not lighter.
Just… aware.
Wut was the first to break.
He stepped back.
It wasn't dramatic. Not rushed. Just enough distance to breathe again, even if it didn't really help.
"…I should go."
The words came out automatically, like his body had decided before his mind caught up.
Phol didn't respond immediately.
He just watched him.
"You're leaving?"
It wasn't a question.
Wut avoided his gaze, turning slightly as if the door behind him had suddenly become the most interesting thing in the world.
"I have things to do."
A weak excuse.
They both knew it.
Silence stretched between them again, thinner this time, sharper.
Wut reached for the handle.
Didn't open it.
Didn't turn around either.
His heart started again.
That same uneven rhythm.
Annoying. Loud. Impossible to ignore.
Behind him, he could feel it—
Phol's presence.
Still.
Close.
"You didn't stop me."
Wut froze.
There it was.
Of course he'd say that.
Of course he wouldn't let it go.
"I didn't—" Wut stopped himself, exhaling quietly. "That doesn't mean anything."
Even he didn't sound convinced.
Phol stepped closer.
Not enough to touch.
Just enough to make the space between them feel smaller again.
"Then what does it mean?"
Wut turned this time.
Fast.
Too fast.
"I don't know!" he snapped, the words slipping out before he could filter them.
A beat of silence followed.
Wut looked away again, running a hand through his hair.
"This is—" he laughed once, dry and short. "This is stupid."
"Is it?"
Wut clenched his jaw.
"Yes."
Phol didn't argue.
Didn't agree either.
He just stood there, watching, like he was waiting for Wut to realize something on his own.
That made it worse.
"Look," Wut said, forcing his voice to steady, "whatever happened—last night, just forget it."
Phol's expression didn't change.
"And just now?"
Wut hesitated.
Just for a second.
"…That too."
A lie.
A weak one.
The kind that barely holds together.
Phol took another step.
Now they were close again.
Not touching.
But close enough that Wut could feel the warmth radiating off him.
"You're good at pretending," Phol said quietly.
Wut's eyes snapped back to him.
"I'm not pretending."
"No?"
"No."
Phol held his gaze for a moment longer.
Then—
"Then look at me."
Wut didn't.
Couldn't.
His eyes flickered, trying, failing, settling somewhere near Phol's shoulder instead.
"…I am."
"You're not."
The words were calm.
Certain.
And somehow, that made Wut's chest tighten even more.
"Why does it matter?" Wut muttered.
Phol didn't answer immediately.
When he did, his voice was lower.
"Because you keep acting like it didn't happen."
Wut swallowed.
It was getting harder to breathe again.
"That's because it shouldn't have."
Phol's gaze sharpened slightly.
"But it did."
Silence.
Wut hated this.
Hated how every word felt like it was pulling something out of him he wasn't ready to deal with.
Hated how Phol wasn't letting him hide behind jokes or distractions.
Hated how part of him didn't want him to.
A sudden knock at the door cut through the tension.
Sharp.
Unexpected.
Wut flinched slightly.
Phol didn't move.
The knock came again.
"Phol? You in there?"
Pheet's voice.
Of course.
Of course it was now.
Wut let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding, stepping back instinctively.
The distance returned.
Too quickly.
Too easily.
Phol glanced at the door, then back at Wut.
Something unreadable passed through his expression.
Then it was gone.
He stepped away.
Just like that.
The tension didn't disappear.
It just… shifted.
"Coming," Phol called out.
Wut turned the handle this time.
The door opened.
Pheet stood there, mid-motion, clearly about to knock again.
"Oh—" he blinked, looking between them. "That was fast."
Wut didn't respond.
He stepped past him without a word.
"Hey—what happened?" Pheet asked, turning slightly.
"Nothing," Wut said quickly.
Too quickly.
Pheet raised an eyebrow but didn't push.
"Right…"
Phol stepped out next, closing the door behind him.
The three of them stood there for a second.
An awkward, uneven triangle.
Then Pheet clapped his hands once.
"So! Food? I'm starving."
Wut nodded immediately.
"Yeah."
Anything.
Anything but this.
Later that night, Wut lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling again.
Same position.
Different thoughts.
He replayed it.
The conversation.
The way Phol looked at him.
The way he—
Wut groaned softly, dragging a pillow over his face.
"This is so stupid…"
But even as he said it—
His chest tightened again.
That same feeling.
He lowered the pillow slightly, staring up at the ceiling.
He didn't stop him.
Not the first time.
Not the second.
And that…
That had to mean something.
Right?
Wut turned onto his side, pulling the blanket up slightly.
"…I'm not thinking about this."
A pause.
"…Not tonight."
His eyes closed.
But sleep didn't come easily.
Because for the first time—
Ignoring it felt harder than facing it.