The rhythmic pounding of basketballs echoed through the thin walls, shaking the classroom windows. Each thud made the chalk tremble across the blackboard as Mr. Somchai paused mid-lecture, pressing his lips together. Laughter followed — loud, careless, unrestrained — spilling in from the gym next door.
Win sat near the front, pencil hovering uselessly above his sketchpad. The sound was unbearable, each bounce of the ball like a hammer against his nerves.
Mr. Somchai sighed, rubbing his temples. "Those boys again," he muttered. Then his gaze shifted toward Win. "Win," he said gently.
Win looked up, startled. "Y-yes, sir?"
"You're quiet, polite…", Maybe you could go ask them to lower the noise a little? Just until the end of the class."
Win blinked. His stomach tightened. "Me?"
"Yes," Mr. Somchai said kindly but firmly. "You're one of the few who won't provoke them. Just… ask politely."
Win nodded hesitantly, clutching his sketchpad to his chest as he stood. His palms were slick with sweat. As he walked down the corridor, the laughter grew louder, accompanied by the sharp squeak of sneakers.
He hesitated at the basketball court entrance, peeking in but he walked right through the middle of the court. Krit and his teammates moved like a storm — bodies twisting, voices echoing. The air was thick with adrenaline and confidence.
Than spotted him first, smirking. "Hey, little guy! You lost or something?" He bounced the ball so close it nearly brushed Win's leg.
Phum snickered, brushing past him roughly. "Seriously? Who lets you in here, art boy?"
Tawan grinned and lobbed a ball toward him, letting it roll between Win's shoes. "Careful, mouse. Might get trampled."
Win froze, voice catching in his throat. "P-please… um… could you… maybe keep it… a little quieter?" His tone was barely a whisper.
Than laughed loudly. "Ohhh, he talks!"
Phum grinned. "Teacher sent the quiet kid to do the dirty work. Cute."
The laughter swelled again. Win's heart hammered painfully, eyes stinging. He took a step back, ready to flee—
Then, a single voice cut through the noise.
"Enough."
The laughter died instantly. Krit had turned, one hand resting on his hip, eyes narrowed with calm authority. The weight of his stare silenced the entire court.
Phum fumbled for words. "We were just joking around, man—"
"Joking?," Krit said sharply, tone like ice. "You think scaring him's funny?"
No one replied. Even the echo of the ball seemed afraid to bounce.
Krit stepped closer to Win, his expression unreadable but his posture protective. "You okay?" he asked, voice low.
Win nodded quickly, though his hands still trembled. "I… I just… Mr. Somchai asked me to… to tell you to be quiet… for class."
Krit's gaze softened slightly. "Ah. Orders from the top, huh?" His lips curved into a faint smirk. "Brave of you to walk in here alone."
Win flushed. "I didn't want to… cause trouble."
Krit tilted his head. "You didn't. They did." Then, glancing back at his teammates, he barked, "You heard him. Keep it down."
The others muttered under their breath, resuming practice more quietly.
Krit crouched slightly so that his eyes met Win's. "Next time, don't just walk straight into the middle of the court," he said, voice softer but teasing. "Unless you like making dramatic entrances."
Win blinked, caught off guard. "I… didn't mean to—"
"Relax," Krit said, straightening up, that familiar smirk returning. "No one's mad. Just… try not to walk into the middle of chaos again. Unless you want me to keep rescuing you."
Win's breath hitched. "I'll… remember that."
"Good," Krit replied, tone unreadable but his eyes glinting with something like amusement. "Now go before you melt into the floor."
Win nodded, retreating toward the door, his heart racing for reasons that had nothing to do with fear.
As he stepped out, Krit's gaze followed him — sharp, curious, lingering. There was something about the quiet boy's trembling sincerity that unsettled him more than he cared to admit.
The basketball tournament later that week was a storm of noise, energy, and adrenaline. The gym was packed with cheering students, banners waving from the balconies, and the blaring of the referee's whistle punctuating the action. As part of a community effort, the painting club had been asked to help clean up after each match. Win moved quietly between chaos and clatter, sweeping the floor, collecting stray towels, and gathering discarded water bottles. His small frame navigated around bouncing balls and shouting players, unnoticed by most.
Between drills, Krit and his friends goofed around, tossing balls carelessly, teasing each other loudly. Some students noticed Win hustling to tidy up and whispered among themselves.
"Is that the shy art boy again?" one giggled.
"Look at him, moving like a ghost," another added. "He doesn't even care who wins."
Krit's dark eyes flicked toward Win immediately. His lips curved into a faint smirk, but the smirk hardened as he saw other students start to take advantage of Win's silent diligence.
"Hey!" Krit's sharp, commanding voice cut through the noise, silencing everyone. "Stop bossing him around. Move your own stuff."
The whole basketball court froze. Even his friends blinked in surprise; Krit never intervened so directly before.
Win froze, caught off guard, cheeks heating. He hadn't expected anyone to notice him, let alone defend him so publicly.
Krit strode over, quieter now, authoritative but not intimidating. "You're doing too much. Don't let anyone take advantage of you," he said, eyes scanning Win's flushed face.
"I… I just—" Win began, voice shaking.
"I mean it," Krit said, softer this time, voice almost hesitant. "You don't have to do everything for everyone. Let people handle themselves sometimes."
Win blinked, unsure how to respond. A rare warmth bloomed in his chest.
Krit's smirk returned, playful now. He picked up a stray basketball and tossed it lightly toward Win, who stumbled, catching it awkwardly. "Careful," Krit teased.
Win's face burned, and he managed a small laugh. From the sidelines, Krit's friends called out with teasing grins.
"Oi, Krit! Who's got you so distracted? You're staring more than usual!"
Krit shot a quick glare but didn't look away from Win. "Shut up," he muttered, though a faint amusement lingered on his lips.
The matches continued, and Krit's team dominated, every shot landing with precise timing. The crowd erupted with cheers after the final buzzer. Girls rushed forward to congratulate him, swooning and shouting. "Krit! That was amazing!" "You were incredible!" "You're the best!"
But Krit's attention didn't waver. His eyes searched for one person in particular. He found Win in the corner, quietly stacking towels and cleaning up discarded cups, entirely oblivious to the victory celebration. A small smirk tugged at Krit's lips—most would have been dazzled by the applause, but Win was focused on his work.
After the trophy presentation, Krit received his gold medal, the gym buzzing with cheers and flashing cameras. As the crowd began to disperse, he walked deliberately toward Win, the medal glinting under the bright lights.
"Hey," he said softly, voice carrying just enough to reach Win over the fading noise. "For you."
Win blinked, startled, his pencil-thin hands clutching his sketchbook like a lifeline. "W-what…?" he stammered.
Before he could react, Krit unhooked the medal from around his neck and, with a small, confident smile, gently draped it over Win's. The weight of the gold and the sudden closeness made Win freeze, his cheeks burning crimson. "I… I can't keep this!" he murmured, instinctively trying to lift it off.
Krit's dark eyes sparkled with amusement. He placed his hands lightly over Win's, holding them against his chest. "Oh, but you can. Consider it… a reward," he said, teasing but steady, his voice low.
Win's mouth opened, but no words came out, his heart hammering in his chest. "I… I don't… I can't…"
Krit smirked, tilting his head. "What's mine… is yours now," he said softly, leaning a fraction closer, making Win's pulse quicken. "And don't even think about taking it off. You earned it—even if you don't realize it yet."
Win swallowed hard, embarrassment and awe mingling into a dizzying mix. He glanced down at the medal, then back at Krit, words failing him entirely.
Krit chuckled, the sound low and teasing. "See? Fits you perfectly. Now smile—don't make me regret sharing it."
Before Win could react, Krit pulled his phone from his pocket and aimed it at him. "Hold still. Gonna take a picture," he said.
Win blinked, frozen. "A… a picture? Why?"
Krit's dark eyes glinted with mischief. "Honestly? I don't know. You just… impressed me. And this—" he tapped the medal gently against Win's chest, "—is worth remembering."
Win's face burned, and he fumbled to adjust the medal, feeling exposed.
Krit snapped the photo, then lowered the phone with a satisfied smirk. "Perfect. Look at you—gold medal, flustered, and somehow still managing to survive me."
Win mumbled, barely audible, "I… I didn't do anything…"
"Exactly," Krit said, grinning. "That's why it's so impressive. Consider it a reward… or a warning."
Win's hands tightened around the medal, heart racing, caught somewhere between embarrassment and awe.
The basketball court was nearly empty now. The cheers had faded into distant echoes, replaced by the quiet rhythm of the painting club cleaning up—brooms scraping, bottles clinking, paper banners being folded away. Win moved quietly among them, head lowered, sweeping up wrappers, pretending not to notice the tall figure leaning against the wall watching him.
Krit hadn't left. He stood there, still in his jersey, medal ribbon now wrapped loosely around his hand, gaze fixed on Win with lazy amusement. "You really don't stop, do you?" he said finally, voice smooth and low. "Game's over, kid. You can rest."
Win froze mid-motion, gripping the broom tighter. "I… I just need to finish this corner," he mumbled, eyes fixed on the floor.
Krit chuckled softly, pushing off the wall to stand beside him. "So serious," he murmured. "You'll sweep a hole through the floor at this rate."
Win's breath hitched; he stepped back slightly, the broom trembling in his hands. "I—I just don't like leaving things messy."
"Mm." Krit tilted his head, studying him. "You really are something else." His tone turned playful, a quiet smile tugging at his lips. "You know, most people can't even look me in the eye. But you—" He paused, noticing Win immediately glance down again. "—ah, there it is. The shy act."
Win's cheeks burned. "I'm not… acting…" he murmured, voice barely audible.
Krit leaned closer, close enough that Win could smell the faint scent of sweat and cologne. "You're scared of me, huh?" he teased, eyes gleaming.
Win's pulse jumped. "N-no, I just…"
"Relax," Krit said, tone softening. "I'm not going to bite. Unless you ask nicely."
Win blinked, utterly flustered, and Krit laughed quietly, shaking his head. "You're too easy to mess with."
After a beat of silence, Krit's voice lowered again, smooth and calm. "So… you seeing anyone?"
Win stiffened, looking up with wide eyes. "S-seeing…?"
Krit smiled, almost fondly. "Dating, kid. You got a boyfriend? Girlfriend?"
Win shook his head quickly. "No! I mean—no, I don't."
"Good." Krit's smirk deepened. "Less competition."
Win blinked again, completely lost. "C-competition?"
"Yeah," Krit said easily, eyes locked on him. "You've got my attention, and that doesn't happen often."
Win's throat went dry. "I… I think I should go—"
But before he could move, Krit reached out and lightly tugged at the medal still hanging around Win's neck. "Keep it," he said quietly. "It suits you. Feels right."
"I… I shouldn't—"
Krit smiled faintly. "What's mine can be yours. Just don't lose it."
He stepped back, the playful glint returning to his eyes. "And don't look so scared, kid. You'll get used to me… eventually."
. "Mm-hmm," Krit drawled, leaning closer. "You got any exes I should beat up? Or are you a total heartbreaker hiding behind that shy face?"
"W-what? No! I don't—" Win's voice cracked.
Krit chuckled, clearly entertained. "Relax, I'm joking. Kind of." He looked Win up and down with mock seriousness. "But you really don't like anyone? Not even a tiny crush?"
Win fidgeted, eyes darting away. "No…"
Krit leaned closer until their faces were barely a few inches apart. "Liar."
"I-I'm not!" Win protested, stepping back.
Krit grabbed his wrist gently, smirking. "You're terrible at lying, you know that?"
Win's breath hitched. "I… I should go."
"Not yet," Krit murmured. "You haven't answered my question properly."
"What question?"
Krit's grin widened. "How about… you just date me?"
Win's eyes went wide. "W-what?"
"Yeah," Krit said casually, shrugging. "You're cute, I'm bored, seems fair."
"Krit—" Win stammered, flustered beyond words.
"Don't think too hard, kid," Krit teased, letting go of his wrist. "Just… consider it. You'll come around."
Win's heart was pounding as he backed away, face flushed.
Krit watched him go, amusement dancing in his eyes. "God, you're fun to mess with," he muttered, a grin tugging at his lips. "This is going to be entertaining."
Later in the evening, Krit's house; Across the city, Krit sat at the dining table of his family's modern house, the soft glow of sunset spilling across the polished floors. The aroma of grilled fish and jasmine rice lingered in the air as his parents chatted about their day—until Krit suddenly said, as casually as if discussing the weather,
"I asked someone out today."
His mother froze mid-bite. His father's fork clattered against the plate.
"You what?" his mother asked, blinking in surprise. "You asked someone out? You? Since when do you do the asking?"
His father chuckled, shaking his head. "Usually, half the city lines up to ask you out. What changed?"
Krit smirked, leaning back in his chair. "Maybe I just found someone worth the effort."
His mother's curiosity sparked instantly. "Oh? Tell us about this… someone."
Krit hesitated for a moment, then said lightly, "He's a guy from my university. Quiet, keeps to himself. Always focused. He doesn't care about popularity or attention—actually, I think he'd rather disappear if he could."
His father almost choked on his tea. "A guy? You mean—you're serious?" He leaned forward, eyebrows raised. "And this quiet boy—he's not after money or something, right? You're the Krit Tanakorn—people notice your last name, son."
Krit rolled his eyes, amused. "Dad, please. He doesn't even look at me half the time. He barely talks. If he's after money, he's doing a terrible job."
His mother laughed softly, resting her chin in her hand. "So, what's his name? What's he like? Do you have a picture?"
Krit grinned, slightly embarrassed. "His name's Win. And… no, I don't have a picture. I don't even have his number yet."
His father raised an eyebrow. "You asked him out without even having his number?"
"I'll get it first thing tomorrow," Krit said confidently, flashing a charming grin.
His mother teased, "So the great Krit Tanakorn—Mr. confident, Mr. untouchable—finally flustered by a quiet boy? Oh, this I have to see."
Krit chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. "He's… different, Mom. I can't explain it."
His father leaned back, smirking. "Your grandfather's going to be shocked. You know how he is—he'll probably faint when he hears you're dating a guy."
Krit snorted. "Then you can convince him, Dad. I'm not changing my mind."
Both parents looked at him, genuinely surprised by his tone—calm, but unwavering.
His mother smiled softly. "You really like him, don't you?"
Krit met her eyes, his expression serious for once. "Yeah. I really like him; I am crazy about him, and I can't forget him. He's in my head all the time."
His father sighed, though a faint smile tugged at his lips. "Well, I guess stubbornness runs in the family."
Krit grinned. "Takes one to know one, Dad."
His mother laughed, shaking her head. "Just… don't scare the poor boy, okay? Quiet ones take time."
Krit chuckled, reaching for another piece of fish. "Don't worry, Mom. I'll go easy on him. Maybe."
His father groaned dramatically. "God help that poor boy."
His mother leaned back, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Well… since you like him so much, why don't you invite Win over for dinner sometime? Let us meet him properly."
Krit snorted, shaking his head. "Mom, I can't even get a yes from him to be my boyfriend yet. First things first."
His parents erupted into laughter. His father leaned forward, wiping a tear from his eye. "Haha! He didn't even say yes yet? Wow, what if he says no, Krit? Karma boy! How many girls have you rejected? Looks like it's finally kicking you back."
Krit groaned, burying his face in his hands. "Dad, you are not helping me right now!"
His father chuckled, teasing relentlessly. "I love this Win guy you're talking about. I love seeing my Krit boy being so helpless for once."
"Hey! Stop teasing my Krit baby," his mother protested, reaching across to poke his shoulder.
Krit rolled his eyes, but a small smile tugged at his lips. "Mom! Can we not make this a circus?"
She leaned closer, playful. "I should share this with my sister… she'll die laughing knowing her nephew is being all lovesick!"
"No! Mom, no!" Krit exclaimed, a mix of panic and embarrassment coloring his voice. "Let me get a yes from him first, okay?"
His father laughed, leaning back in his chair. "Oh, come on, son. The suspense is hilarious. You've been Mr. Confident forever watching you squirm is priceless!"
Krit buried his face again. "Oh God… I shouldn't have told you guys at all!"
His mother and father both laughed, loud and unrestrained. Krit peeked out from behind his hands, shaking his head, but the warmth of their teasing lingered, softening the edges of his anxiety.