"Sun! Wake up, you're going to be late!"
His mother's voice pounded through the door, a mix of worry and annoyance that was all too familiar. Sun jolted awake. He had forgotten to set his alarm. Great. First day at university... and already late.
He jumped out of bed, still half-asleep. In a rush, he splashed cold water on his face, brushed his teeth in record time, and threw on a pair of black pants and a wrinkled white T-shirt. No time for anything better.
As he stepped out of his room, he found himself face to face with his father. Upright like a statue, coffee mug in hand, glasses perched on his nose, still in his coaching tracksuit. Like he never stopped being who he was—even at home.
"Heading to campus?" his father asked, tone flat.
Sun nodded. He was about to pass by when his father added, almost casually:
"You know, it's never too late to change your mind. The pool is still there. Think about it."
Silence. Sun paused. He slowly looked up at him.
"I've already thought about it," he replied simply.
His father's gaze held his for a second... two... then shifted away. A slight flush colored his cheeks, as if he realized he'd pushed too far. Been too much of himself.
Sun said nothing more. He went back into his room for a moment, opened his closet, and pulled out the uniform he half-dreaded wearing: pressed black pants, a crisp white shirt with the discreet logo of Bangkok Future University embroidered on the chest.
He dressed in silence, adjusted his collar, slipped his sketchbook into his bag. One last glance in the mirror. Just an ordinary student. Nothing more. Not a swimmer. Not a broken son.
He stepped out the door without looking back.
The morning air hit him as soon as he walked outside. He took a deep breath. Bangkok Future University. New campus. New life. And, hopefully, no trace of his past by the pool.
Yet despite it all, a tight knot had formed in his stomach. Heavy, uncomfortable. The kind of weight no one sees... but you carry all day.
Come on, Sun. You said you were leaving it all behind. Then move forward.
He started walking, determined. Today, he'd do everything to fit in. He needed this. He didn't want to be "the coach's son," or "the ex-swimmer," or "the one who gave up."
Today, he'd just be Sun. An art student. A boy who loves to draw. Nothing else.
Meanwhile, elsewhere in Bangkok...
Rin had already been up since 5:30 a.m. Not because he had to. Because he chose to.
His apartment—a small, functional studio ten minutes from campus—was perfectly organized. No clothes out of place. His lunchbox was ready, his watch synced with the weather alarm, and his schedule for the day was taped to the wall at eye level.
Rin expected nothing from the day. He didn't like surprises. He didn't need excitement. Just facts. Timetables. And silence.
He put on his uniform with precision, button by button, every fold aligned. He didn't dress to look good—he dressed not to be noticed.
In medical school, most people talked about empathy, emotion, passion for saving lives. Rin had chosen the path as an equation to solve: cause, symptom, treatment. No room for chaos.
He glanced at his whiteboard, mentally reviewed his class times, then locked his door quietly, twice.
A few minutes later, in front of the university's large gates, Sun stood frozen. He watched the other students walk in with confidence. He still felt like an impostor. He hated that feeling.
A familiar voice broke through his thoughts.
"You've been standing there for exactly six minutes and forty-seven seconds. Are you going in, or should I run a clinical analysis?"
Sun let out a relieved sigh. Rin. Still as upright, as cold, as... Rin.
"Did you time me?" "Obviously. I have an app for that."
They looked at each other for a moment. And even if Rin never really smiled, Sun felt something calming in his presence.
The two of them walked toward the buildings together, each carrying their wounds differently. One hid his behind awkward smiles. The other behind a strict logic.
But deep down, both hoped for the same thing: that this new life might finally be the one where they could breathe freely.
The university's grand amphitheater buzzed with energy. Hundreds of freshmen were already seated, chatting nervously or scrolling through their phones. Sun and Rin found two empty seats near the middle row.
The lights dimmed slightly as the headmaster appeared on stage, stepping up to the microphone with a warm but authoritative smile.
"Welcome to Bangkok Future University," he began. "You are now part of a community that values ambition, excellence, and above all—growth. This is the beginning of your next chapter. Make it count."
Sun tried to focus, but his stomach was still tight with tension. Everything felt too big, too loud, too fast.
Then—
"Hey! Four-eyes, you're in my seat."
Sun blinked and turned. A loud voice, followed by a light slap on the back of Rin's head.
"It's a public seat, idiot," Rin replied without turning, calm as ever.
Two new faces squeezed into the row beside them—Han and Love. Han, all chaotic energy, big hand gestures, and a permanent grin. Love, sarcastic, sharp-eyed, and clearly used to putting up with Han's nonsense.
"You two look like you're about to faint," Han said, eyeing Sun. "Relax. The real chaos doesn't start until midterms."
Love snorted. "Ignore him. He's failed his entrance tests twice before getting in."
Sun gave a shy chuckle, just enough to loosen the knot in his chest.
As the headmaster finished his speech, a new wave of students entered the stage. A huge banner dropped from the ceiling:
"CLUB SHOWCASE – JOIN YOUR PASSION"
Clubs from across the campus began introducing themselves: arts, debate, robotics, drama...
Then came the final one. The lights changed. A spotlight hit the center of the stage. The crowd quieted.
"And now," the headmaster announced, "please welcome the university's most successful club: the Bangkok Future University Swim Team."
Sun's body went rigid. His eyes widened.
A tall man stepped forward — confident, familiar. It was his father. At his side stood Firm, arms crossed with his usual smug expression, as if he already knew the effect this moment would have. And just behind them, Art—silent, intense, his gaze sweeping across the crowd like a ripple in still water.
But beside him stood Firm, and just behind... Art. Silent. Intense. Eyes scanning the crowd.
The applause was thunderous.
Sun couldn't hear it. His heart pounded violently. His palms turned clammy. Sweat gathered at his temples. He trembled.
No. Not again. Not here.
He felt cold. Like the water was already pulling him back in.
Everything that had once destroyed him... was right in front of him again.