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Ren didn’t reply to Ric’s last message.
Not because he didn’t want to.
But because he didn’t know how.
What did someone say to a boy who sent a message like that?
> “Because I keep looking for you without meaning to.”
Those words stayed with him through the night. Through the morning. Through every hour of classes that followed.
Even now — as he stood in the university library aisle, arms full of poetry books for an essay due next week — that sentence curled around his ribs like ivy.
He wasn’t used to being seen.
Not like that.
Not by him.
---
On the other side of campus, Ric sat cross-legged on the grass with his camera resting beside him, watching clouds shift over the sun.
His film assignment was due tomorrow.
He was supposed to be capturing “movement.”
But all his brain kept circling back to…
Ren.
The way he pushed his sleeves up when nervous.
How he always looked out the window before answering a question in class.
That soft breath he let out right before he smiled — as if happiness still surprised him.
Ric sighed and tilted his head back, letting sunlight hit his face.
“Hopeless,” Tae said, dropping into the seat beside him.
Ric blinked. “Excuse me?”
“You have it so bad. You think about him all the time. You talk about him more than you talk about food. That’s scary.”
Ric didn’t deny it. He just grinned. “So?”
“So,” Tae said, tossing him a bottle of iced tea, “Do something about it. Before someone else does.”
---
That evening, Ren returned to the café to help out after his classes. The place buzzed with energy — the soft murmur of customers, the clink of cups, the warm smell of cinnamon and espresso.
He barely stepped through the back door when Mint called from the kitchen:
“Ren, Ric’s been waiting since forever.”
Ren frowned. “Waiting?”
“Corner table. Sketching. With that dreamy in-love-with-my-barista face.”
Ren flushed. “He’s not in love—”
Mint leaned over the counter and whispered, “Not yet.”
---
Ren brought over a drink without asking. Ric looked up, caught his eyes, and smiled like the day had just gotten better.
Ren’s chest squeezed.
“Why are you here again?” he asked, trying to sound casual.
Ric sipped. “Because you smile at me more here than anywhere else.”
Ren’s eyes widened. “That’s— I don’t—”
“You do,” Ric said simply. “And I wait for it. Every day.”
Ren didn’t reply.
He didn’t have to.
Because Ric’s words settled into him like sunlight through fog. And it was harder and harder to pretend that his smile wasn’t only for Ric.
---
That night, after closing, Ren and Ric walked home under the stars.
Ploy had gone to bed early, and Auntie Mali had handed Ric a little paper bag of warm cookies “just in case Ren forgot to eat again.” (He had.)
They reached the small curve where the road split — one way toward Ric’s shared apartment, the other toward Ren’s quiet home.
Neither moved.
Ric was the one to break the silence.
“Can I ask you something?”
Ren looked at him, hands deep in his hoodie pockets. “Mm?”
“When you smile at me,” Ric said slowly, “what are you thinking?”
Ren blinked.
“Because when I smile at you,” Ric continued, “it’s because I feel... like I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.”
Ren stared at him. The world hushed.
Ric took a tiny step closer. His voice softened even more.
“But when you smile… it feels like I waited all day for something I didn’t know I needed.”
Silence.
Heavy.
Sweet.
Ren’s breath caught.
“I think…” he said finally, voice quiet, eyes on Ric’s chest instead of his face. “I think I smile at you because… I forget how not to.”
Ric’s heart skipped.
They didn’t kiss.
Not yet.
But the air around them crackled like it wanted them to.
And when Ric finally turned to leave, he whispered, “Keep smiling like that, Ren… and I won’t be able to stay just your friend for much longer.”
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