The next morning, Uy Phong strolled through the school gates with a lightness in his step. He wasn't sure why his mood was so good, but hey—starting the day on a high note couldn't be a bad thing.
As expected, An Phong was already at his desk when he walked into class. The boy sat neatly, posture straight, sunlight spilling through the window onto the open book in front of him. The sight made Uy Phong smirk to himself. Of course. Perfect little model student.
Hands shoved in his pockets, he ambled over and dropped into his seat with an easy, "Morning."
An Phong barely glanced up. His dark eyes flicked over, then back to the page. His reply was flat, almost automatic."Morning."
Uy Phong didn't take offense. He was used to this—An Phong's calm, still-water demeanor. Humming a tune under his breath, he rummaged through his bag.
And then—clack.
Something slipped from his backpack and hit the floor. The sound was soft, but sharp enough to freeze the air around their desks.
An Phong noticed immediately. His gaze tilted sideways, curious but careful. "What happened?" His voice was low, just for them.
Uy Phong didn't answer. His eyes were locked on the small, crumpled slip of paper on the ground. For a second, he didn't even breathe.
An Phong followed his stare. Just a piece of paper? It looked… vaguely familiar. He reached out to pick it up—
Smack!
His hand was knocked away, hard. The sting shot up through his knuckles, blooming red across his skin. He froze, stunned. Had Uy Phong just—?
The other boy's fist closed tight around the note, knuckles bone-white, tendons straining under the skin. Only when he saw An Phong withdraw his hand—quietly rubbing at the mark—did realization crash in.
"Hey—! Are you okay?" Uy Phong blurted, panic flickering across his face. He reached out without thinking.
But An Phong pulled back, cool as ever. "I'm fine."
Uy Phong faltered under that flat gaze. His hand hung useless in the air before dropping to rake through his hair. "...Sorry. I didn't mean to. Reflex."
"I know," An Phong said simply, tone steady as glass.
The silence that followed was thick, broken only by the scratching of pens from the row ahead. Finally, An Phong spoke again, his eyes glancing at Uy Phong's closed fist.
"That slip—it's the basketball club contact, isn't it?"
Uy Phong blinked. "Huh? Oh… yeah."
"You're not joining?" An Phong's voice was calm, but the question hung heavy. "Or… lost interest?"
The words landed like a stone. Lost interest. That exact phrase had been hurled at him the night before, when his grandfather demanded an answer. It scraped against something raw inside him. A bitter laugh escaped before he could stop it.
"Yeah. I'm done. No interest anymore. Why? You want me to join?"
"No." An Phong shook his head, voice even. "It's your choice. I'm not interfering. I just want to know… why."
Uy Phong's smirk faltered. He turned, searching An Phong's face for a crack, a tell. But those black eyes stared back, steady, unflinching.
He exhaled slow. "...Guess I can't play anymore."
The silence between them pushed at him, urging more. Uy Phong dragged a hand down his face.
"You're curious, huh? Fine. My parents—they don't let me choose. It's not about forbidding. It's about forcing. Whatever I touch, they make me do until I'm wrung out. Until I can't breathe. Basketball was freedom, once. Now it's a chain. Just looking at a ball makes me sick."
For a moment, there was nothing but the buzz of morning chatter around them. Then An Phong spoke softly:
"But that day… I saw you playing. You looked happy."
Uy Phong snapped his head up. Shock flashed in his eyes, quickly replaced by a crooked grin. "Oh? Didn't you say you didn't watch me? Then how'd you know I was happy, huh? Unless…" He leaned closer, smirk widening. "You've been sneaking looks at me all along, and only now you're admitting it?"
He tried to make it playful, light. But the edge in his laugh didn't quite mask the cracks underneath.
An Phong just sighed, gaze cool as ice. "No. I didn't watch you. But I saw the way you walked back with the guys. Relaxed. Like you'd had fun."
The smirk died. Uy Phong leaned back, eyes darting away, hand creeping up to scratch the back of his neck again.
And then An Phong dropped another line, quiet but sharp:"Why not… do something behind their backs? Just once. To scratch the itch."
Uy Phong barked out a laugh, dry and brittle. "Scratch the itch? You think too small. My parents have eyes everywhere. The second I set foot in Vietnam, their net closes in. Teachers, the principal, hell—maybe even you. Anyone could be their spy."
An Phong frowned, voice low. "I'm not spying on you."
That tone—cool but edged—caught him off guard. Uy Phong blinked, then forced a chuckle. "Kidding, kidding. And honestly, if you were spying on me? I wouldn't mind. I'm popular, you know. Comes with the territory."
"Weirdo."
"What'd you call me?!" Uy Phong barked, half-offended, half-exasperated. But after a beat, he just rubbed his temples, a weary grin slipping out.
"Anyway. Not happening. No matter how much you nag, I'm not joining. Seriously, why're you poking into this? Trying to be my friend now?"
"…What stage is your mouth cancer at?" An Phong deadpanned.
Uy Phong blinked. "Wait—mouth cancer's a thing? I thought it was just throat cancer."
"With the way you run it nonstop, your mouth's probably rotting."
For a second, Uy Phong just stared. Then a snort burst out of him, rolling into helpless laughter. He bent over, clutching his stomach.
"You—god—you're brutal, desk mate. But fine. I'll bite. Why are you really so curious?"
"Not much," An Phong said simply. "Just… it's a waste."
"A waste?" Uy Phong's grin twitched. "You pitying me? Sad I gave up on what I used to love? You're too sentimental, you know that?"
An Phong met his gaze, expression unreadable. His voice was quieter now. "No. It's a waste… because you're throwing away talent."
The words landed heavier than expected. Uy Phong froze, smile stiff, unable to laugh it off. How did this guy always manage to pin him down with a single line?
"You must've trained hard," An Phong continued. "Even if most of it was forced, I know there were moments you enjoyed it. Otherwise, you wouldn't be that good. Maybe someday—"
"Stop."
The sharp laugh that cut him off was brittle, twisted. Uy Phong tilted his head back, chuckling like someone who'd just had their worst secret dragged into the light. When he looked forward again, his grin was jagged, bitter.
"Someday? Competitions? Forget it. Like I said, I'm done. Say it a hundred times and it won't change. I…"
He stopped. Something flickered in his mind—an idea, sudden and reckless. His eyes lit with a spark, and a slow, sly smile spread across his face.
"Hey. What if…" He leaned in, voice dropping low, playful but dangerous.
"…you picked up Taekwondo again. Then maybe—just maybe—I'd change my mind too."