The moment An Phong's words fell, whatever trace of a smile lingered on Uy Phong's lips vanished. His gaze darkened, a tremor running through him before a hoarse groan scraped out of his throat:
"So then… what does that mean?"
An Phong clenched his fists, retreating half a step though he forced himself to stand steady.
"I… I said it because… you lied to Vy!"
"What the hell are you talking about—?" Uy Phong suddenly jerked upright, fever-bright eyes blazing red, startling An Phong.
Teeth grit, An Phong shot back, words sharp as arrows:
"Struck a nerve, didn't I? If you didn't like Vy, why did it bother you so much when I watched her practice? And after that… you betrayed her, then turned around and got close with that girl An Thu!"
His voice dropped, ragged with restrained anger:
"To you, maybe Vy meant nothing… but to me—"
Uy Phong's shoulders shook, a strangled laugh tearing out—dry, broken.
"Ha… to you, huh… So that's all…? That's it? Ha… haha… haahh… damn it… damn it all…"
"Hey—Uy Phong! Are you even alright? Hoang Uy Phong!"
Suddenly, Uy Phong lunged forward, clutching both of An Phong's arms with a bruising grip, his fevered eyes glinting dark. His voice rumbled low, feral, like a beast cornered:
"Ha An Phong… you idiot…"
Then his strength collapsed. His body went limp, slumping unconscious against An Phong's chest, leaving the latter in a daze of panic.
Some time later—
Uy Phong stirred. His eyelids felt leaden as they fluttered open. Through the blur, he saw a figure seated close by the bed. His heart skipped.
"You're awake?"
The voice was low, steady—familiar. An Phong.
As his vision cleared, he made out An Phong wringing a towel over a basin, then pressing the cool cloth gently against his fevered forehead, replacing the one that had gone warm. The sudden chill made him wince with a soft sound, eyes blinking fast. The other boy only chuckled quietly.
"Big guy like you, dropping like a sack from a fever."
Uy Phong let out a weak laugh.
"Who says… big guys can't get sick? Everyone does at some point…"
"Sure. Lucky for you I was here. Otherwise you'd have been out cold for hours and no one would've noticed."
Uy Phong hesitated, then muttered in a rough whisper:
"…Thanks."
"No big deal." An Phong rose, carrying the basin into the bathroom.
The sound of running water drifted back. Uy Phong closed his eyes, resting a hand on his brow. His lips curved faintly, and a foolish thought flickered across his mind: Feels almost like… a wife fussing over a sick husband…
The absurdity jolted him. He scowled and muttered:
"Damn it… not again…"
A voice called back at once:
"What's not again? And get your hand off your forehead."
Uy Phong flinched, snatching his hand away.
"Uh… yeah…"
"Think you can sit up? Eat something first, then take your meds."
"…Fine."
Slowly, he pushed himself upright, back sinking against the headboard. A sigh escaped him, heavy with fatigue—and something else he dared not name.
An Phong set a steaming bowl of porridge into his hands.
"Here. Eat."
"…Thanks."
Uy Phong accepted it, spooning quietly while sneaking glances at the boy across from him. An Phong sat calmly, sleeves rolled up to the elbow, pale arms bare—almost too pale, too fine, for a boy.
The contrast unsettled him: a face that stayed cool, impassive, while those same hands busied themselves carefully arranging pills in a neat row. Who was this person, really?
Lost in thought, he suddenly met An Phong's gaze. The latter glanced at him, tone level:
"Done eating? Medicine's here."
"Mm."
Silence stretched for a beat. Then An Phong said quietly:
"Alright. I'll head out now."
"…Yeah. Thanks—for today."
"It's nothing."
He buttoned his sleeves back down, tidied a few things, and moved toward the door. There, he paused, phone in hand.
"Oh, by the way—I saved my number in your phone. Call if you need anything. Take the meds after you eat. I'll lock up on my way out."
"…Got it. Thanks."
An Phong gave a faint smile, then finally left.
Uy Phong sat dazed on the bed, listening to the footsteps fade, each step tugging something loose inside him.
His clothes had been changed. He'd eaten warm porridge. Medicine waited neatly at his side. Nothing lacking—nothing to complain about. Yet it was that very thoroughness that set his heart reeling.
Why… after all the chaos he's stirred up, why is he suddenly the one taking care of me? It's maddening… spinning me in circles, leaving me with nowhere to land.
He sighed, eyes drifting to the phone on the nightstand. Reaching for it, he saw a missed call from Thien Hung. And below that, a new saved contact.
His thumb tapped, and the screen lit with a name: An Phong.
Typed plainly. No frills. No icons. Just a name—yet it made something inside him stir strangely.
A faint smile curved his lips, unbidden.
"An Phong… huh? …Thanks."