Chapter Text
The late afternoon sun of Bangkok poured over the university’s artificial turf, dyeing the entire space in a brilliant, sweltering orange-gold. The referee’s whistle blew a long, sharp blast, cutting through the heated atmosphere of the friendly match between the Faculty of Law and the Faculty of Engineering.
"Time’s up!"
Fourth Nattawat rested his hands on his knees, his chest heaving violently after ninety minutes of relentless running. Clear beads of sweat rolled down from his temples, tracing the sharp line of his jaw before clinging to his chin and falling onto the lush green grass. He swiped his drenched hair back, revealing a high forehead and bright eyes that still carried the competitive spark of a victor.
Around him, the cheering from the stands showed no signs of cooling down. His name echoed through the air, accompanied by the admiring gazes of countless students. At this university, Fourth wasn't just a Law student with an impressive academic record; he was an icon of perfection—handsome, well-born, and exceptionally talented in sports.
He straightened up and pulled his jersey up to wipe the sweat from his face—an unconscious gesture that sent a wave of excitement through the crowd of girls behind the fence as they caught a glimpse of his toned abs. But Fourth’s gaze didn't linger on the noisy crowd. He scanned the rest area, searching for a familiar figure.
And then, he saw her.
Prim Chanikarn stood at the edge of the crowd, entirely detached from the chaos. She wore the pleated skirt of the student uniform, her long, lightly curled hair cascading over her slender shoulders, catching the soft rays of the setting sun. In her hands, she held a cold bottle of mineral water and a clean white towel.
Fourth smiled, a radiance that seemed to dim the sunset behind him. He took long strides toward her, leaving behind the congratulations of his teammates.
"Have you been waiting long?" Fourth asked, his voice still a bit husky from exhaustion but overflowing with tenderness.
Prim shook her head gently, her lips curving into a kind smile. She didn’t say a word, only quietly raised the towel to pat away the sweat on Fourth’s forehead. Her movements were slow and meticulous, as if she were dusting a piece of precious porcelain. A faint scent of jasmine wafted from her, overpowering the smell of grass and the heavy scent of sweat in the stadium.
"You did great," Prim whispered, her voice as clear as wind chimes. She handed him the water bottle, already uncapped.
"Drink slowly, it’s still cold."
Fourth took the bottle, their fingers brushing for a fleeting second. The chill of the bottle and the warmth of Prim’s fingertips created a pleasant contrast. He tilted his head back, taking a long gulp, his Adam's apple moving rhythmically.
"Prim," Fourth lowered the bottle, looking directly into his girlfriend’s eyes.
"Let’s have dinner tonight. I know a place that has that pasta you like."
Prim blinked, her large, sparkling eyes fixed on him. She reached out to adjust Fourth’s crooked collar—a natural, intimate gesture that drew envious looks from bystanders.
They were the university’s "Golden Couple"—the god of the Faculty of Law and the belle of the Faculty of Commerce & Accountancy. A combination so perfect it felt like something out of a romance novel.
"Of course," Prim nodded, her smile brightening. "But you have to shower first. You smell entirely of sweat."
Fourth let out a laugh, playfully leaning down to sniff his shirt and wrinkling his nose.
"That’s the scent of hard work. You don’t like it?"
"I do," Prim replied with a rare hint of playfulness. She gave his shoulder a light shove.
"But you still need a shower."
The scene was so beautiful and peaceful that it felt surreal. No arguments, no awkwardness. Everything flowed like a calm stream. Fourth looked at Prim, feeling her gentle care, and told himself he was the luckiest man alive. Everything about Prim made people feel at ease.
So much at ease that, sometimes, Fourth wondered why he felt so insecure.
[...]
To get that nod of agreement to be his girlfriend three months ago, Fourth had gone through a long and arduous journey that, without a "strategist," he surely would have given up on long ago.
And that strategist was none other than Gemini Norawit.
Gemini was Fourth’s childhood best friend; they had grown up together since before they could walk. If Fourth was the Law student—elegant and polite but occasionally rigid—then Gemini was the embodiment of freedom and bursting energy.
A top student in the BAScii faculty, Gemini possessed the sharp mind of a businessman and the refined soul of an artist. He was extroverted, lively, and brought laughter wherever he went.
Gemini was the "Executive Director" of Fourth’s romance. He didn't just give cliché advice; he took action.
Fourth vividly remembered the first time he planned to buy a birthday gift for Prim. He had intended to buy a fuchsia lipstick—the color Gemini later dubbed "the color of destruction."
"Are you fucking dumb, Fourth?"
Gemini had shouted when he saw the lipstick in Fourth's hand at the mall. He snatched it away and put it back on the shelf with a look of horror, as if Fourth were holding a grenade.
"Give her this, and you're perfectly grounded in the 'friendzone'."
"Then... then what should I give her?" Fourth asked blankly, his hands fumbling.
Gemini sighed, shaking his head in exasperation, but his eyes shone with patience. He pulled Fourth through rows of cosmetic counters, lecturing him as they went.
"Prim has a fair but cool skin tone. She likes natural, clear makeup. You need to pick a peach or a soft brick red. And most importantly, Prim likes subtle things—it doesn’t have to be expensive, but it has to be meaningful."
Finally, Gemini stopped in front of a handmade jewelry shop. He chose a delicate silver bracelet adorned with a small, pale blue quartz stone.
"This one," Gemini stated firmly, holding the bracelet up to inspect it. "This color suits her aura; it’s elegant and easy to pair with outfits. Trust me."
And Gemini was right. When Fourth gave her that gift, Prim’s eyes lit up. She put it on immediately and hadn't taken it off once.
Beyond choosing gifts, Gemini was the reluctant chauffeur for their first few dates. At the time, Fourth didn't have a driver's license, and he was afraid riding a motorcycle would ruin Prim’s intricate hairstyle. So Gemini, with his sleek black sedan, always appeared on time at the dormitory gate.
"Get in, distinguished guests," Gemini would call out from the lowered car window, a bright grin on his face, his eyes curving into happy slits.
"Gemini's Taxi Service is at your service. The fare is one happy smile from the young couple."
In the car, Gemini always knew how to modulate the atmosphere. When Fourth ran out of topics and the space turned awkward, Gemini would glance through the rearview mirror and jump in with a funny story about school or play a soft ballad he knew they both liked.
There were times Fourth felt Gemini teased him too much. Like the time Fourth slipped up and said something stupid in front of Prim, and Gemini roared with laughter, slapping the steering wheel.
"Hahaha- 'You're as beautiful as... a Criminal Law assignment'?” What the hell are you made from?"
Fourth’s face turned beet red as he punched Gemini’s shoulder.
"Shut up bastard! Stop laughing!"
Gemini dodged the blows while laughing until tears came, but immediately after, seeing Prim giggling as well, he softened his voice to cover for his friend.
"But Prim, for this nerd, Criminal Law is the most beautiful thing in the world. He’s basically saying you're the most important thing to him."
That clever intervention saved Fourth from a total disaster, turning an embarrassing moment into a cute memory.
Fourth was always grateful to Gemini.
He was grateful for his enthusiasm, his sophistication, and his boundless patience. But he never stopped to ask why a busy person like Gemini—a BAScii student always buried under startup projects and group assignments—could dedicate so much time to someone else's love life.
Memory took Fourth back to a night two weeks ago. It was the peak of midterms, and Gemini’s BAScii faculty was notorious for being a "grinder" with a massive workload.
It was 2:00 AM. Fourth lay tossing and turning in bed, phone in hand, fretting over a message from Prim. She had said, "I’ve been feeling a bit tired lately, I don't know why."
Fourth was panicked. He didn't know how to respond. Should he ask more questions? Should he let her rest? Should he bring her medicine? A thousand questions swirled in the head of a boy with no deep experience in love.
In his desperation, Fourth messaged Gemini.
Fourth: "Gem, you awake? Help me plss."
He didn't expect Gemini to reply immediately. He knew Gemini’s team had a major business proposal deadline at 8:00 AM the next morning. Earlier, at 10:00 PM, Gemini had posted an Instagram story showing a stack of books and a cup of jet-black coffee.
Yet, less than thirty seconds later, Fourth’s phone screen lit up. The words "Gemini is typing..." danced on the screen, followed by a long message.
Gemini: "Still up. Whassup boss? Prim again?"
Fourth quickly typed out the situation, pouring out his worries.
On the other side of the screen, in the BAScii dormitory common room, the silence was broken only by the hum of the air conditioner and the rhythmic clicking of keyboards from a few night-owl students. Gemini sat in the corner, surrounded by a mess of papers, charts, and empty energy drink cans. His eyes were circled with dark shadows, bloodshot from three days without sleep. His usually neatly styled hair was a mess, falling over his eyes.
When Fourth’s message arrived, Gemini was wrestling with a logical error in a financial model. He had intended to ignore all notifications and toss his phone aside to focus. But when he saw the name "Fourth," his hand froze over the keyboard.
Gemini let out a long breath, rubbing his aching temples. He picked up the phone, the blue light from the screen reflecting off his exhausted face, but his gaze turned unusually soft.
He read every word Fourth sent. He could imagine Fourth’s worried, scrunched-up face right now. This silly friend of his, always panicking over the small things.
Gemini began to type. It wasn't a half-hearted answer. He analyzed the female psyche, explaining that sometimes "tired" doesn't need medicine—it needs a listener. He drafted three different response options for Fourth, each with a different nuance of care.
Gemini: "Don't bomb her with 'Why' or 'What's wrong.' When girls are tired, they don't want to explain. Message her this: 'I feel so bad for you. Just get some rest, you don't need to reply right away. I’ll bring you breakfast tomorrow; do you want porridge or soup?'. That way, you show care without pressure, and you give yourself an excuse to see her tomorrow."
After hitting send, Gemini put the phone down, staring at the black screen for a few seconds, his lips curling into a helpless smile. Then, he stretched until his joints cracked and turned back to the dry data on his computer screen, continuing his lonely battle deep into the night.
He didn't tell Fourth how tired he was. He never did.
Back in the present, after showering and changing into a crisp white shirt tucked into beige trousers, Fourth stood before the mirror, combing his hair. He sprayed a bit of sandalwood cologne—the scent Gemini had picked for him, saying it felt mature and reliable.
Fourth’s car was in the shop today, so he had to rely on his "private driver," Gemini, once again.
A short honk sounded at the dormitory gate. Fourth ran down to find the familiar car parked there. The driver’s side window rolled down, revealing Gemini’s fresh face.
"Get in, Princess, the Prince is waiting," Gemini teased, his fingers tapping the steering wheel to the beat of a lively pop song.
Fourth hopped into the passenger seat. A blast of cool air from the AC hit his face, dispelling the afternoon heat.
"Thanks, man. Sorry to bother you," Fourth said as he buckled his seatbelt, his voice tinged with guilt.
"No bother at all," Gemini laughed off, skillfully maneuvering the car into the heavy traffic.
"I had to go pick up some computer parts anyway. Besides, driving the god of the Law Faculty is an honor for a humble servant like me."
"Stop talking nonsense,"
Fourth rolled his eyes affectionately, but he couldn't hide his smile. Around Gemini, he always felt strangely comfortable. He could say anything, do any stupid thing without fear of judgment.
He didn't need to maintain an image or weigh every word as he did with Prim.
"Where are you taking Prim today?" Gemini asked, eyes on the road, but his attention seemed entirely focused on the answer.
"That pasta place. The one you pointed out last time," Fourth replied, leaning back. "Prim seems to like Italian."
"Yeah, that place has a romantic atmosphere, good music, great food. Perfect choice," Gemini nodded in approval. He caught a quick glimpse of Fourth, noticing his friend looked a bit pensive. "What’s up? Worried about something?"
Fourth remained silent for a moment, looking out the window at the streetlights starting to flicker on, creating blurred streaks of color.
"Not exactly... It’s just..." Fourth hesitated. "How do you see... Prim and me?"
Gemini’s grip on the steering wheel tightened slightly. A moment of silence filled the small car, save for the hum of the engine.
"What do you mean 'how'? You're a talented guy and a beautiful girl, a perfect match. Everyone in this school is jealous of you two," Gemini replied, his voice maintaining its usual cheer, but if one listened closely, it sounded a bit mechanical—like a memorized script.
"Yeah, I know," Fourth sighed.
"Prim is great. She’s gentle, she cares for me, and she never asks for too much. We’ve never had a single argument."
"Then isn't that great? Do you want to fight just to spice things up?" Gemini laughed loudly, trying to lighten the mood.
"No," Fourth turned to look at Gemini, his dark eyes filled with uncertainty.
"It’s because we don't fight that it feels strange. Do you get it? It’s just... flat. I feel like I have to be perfect in front of her. I’m afraid that if I do something wrong, this perfection will shatter. I feel like I'm walking on thin ice, Gemini. And I don't know when it's going to break."
Gemini went quiet. He stopped laughing. He slowed down as they approached a red light. The red glow cast over half of Gemini’s face, highlighting his sharp features and a rare, contemplative look.
He knew what Fourth was talking about. He understood that feeling better than anyone. Perfection was sometimes the greatest distance.
"Fourth," Gemini spoke, his voice deep and serious, entirely different from his playful tone earlier. He didn't look at Fourth, but stared straight ahead.
"Love doesn't always need to be a raging fire. Sometimes peace is the hardest thing to find. Prim is a good girl; she’s understanding. Maybe you're just overthinking. Just enjoy what you have."
Gemini’s words were like a splash of cold water on Fourth’s confusion, but also like a warm, comforting hand. Gemini was always like that—always knowing how to pull Fourth back to reality, always the anchor that held Fourth whenever he drifted into vague thoughts.
"Yeah, you're probably right," Fourth nodded, reassuring himself.
"Maybe I'm just tired from the game."
The light turned green. Gemini hit the gas, and the car sped off.
"We're here. Get ready to play the charming prince," Gemini said as the car pulled up to the women's dormitory, where Prim was already waiting.
Fourth looked out. Prim was wearing a cream-colored dress with a light cardigan; she looked as beautiful and ethereal as a muse. Fourth’s heart beat a little faster, and his ears turned slightly red.
"Thanks, Gem," Fourth unbuckled his seatbelt and patted his friend's shoulder.
"Remember to text me the report later. Don't do anything stupid," Gemini winked, the mischievous smile returning to his lips.
Fourth stepped out and walked toward Prim. He saw Gemini linger for a moment, rolling down the window to wave at Prim. Prim smiled and waved back—a polite, social smile for her boyfriend’s best friend.
Fourth took Prim’s hand. It was small, soft, and slightly cool. He squeezed it gently, as if to share his warmth, but also to check if she was really there—or if she was just an illusion of perfection he had worked so hard to build.
Behind them, Gemini’s car engine revved softly and then faded as he drove away into the Bangkok night. Fourth didn't look back, so he didn't see the car's red taillights linger for an extra second before turning at the intersection, carrying away his closest friend—the one who was always behind him, pushing him toward the light while retreating himself into the shadows of nameless roads.
Dinner went exactly according to script. Flickering candles, soft music, delicious food. Prim laughed a lot. She told Fourth about the troubles at the Accounting club, about a stray cat she’d been secretly feeding behind the school. Fourth listened, nodded, and occasionally interjected with jokes that made her happy.
"Fourth," Prim suddenly stopped eating, resting her chin on her hand.
"Gemini is really a good guy, isn't he?"
Fourth stiffened slightly, his fork pausing mid-swirl in his pasta. "Why’d you suddenly mention about it?"
"Well, I just see how much he worries about you," Prim said, her eyes clear.
"Earlier, I saw him wait until you were safely inside before he drove away. And every time we go out, he always tells me to take good care of you. He’s like a Godfather worrying about his son."
Fourth laughed, but it sounded a bit forced. "That’s just how he is. Nosy and over-protective. We've been together since we were kids; he probably thinks of me as his little brother."
"I really admire your friendship," Prim continued, her voice tinged with a hint of sadness.
"I have best friends too, but to understand and sacrifice for each other the way Gemini does for you... That’s really hard to find."
The word "sacrifice" that Prim used made Fourth’s heart skip a beat. He had never thought of Gemini as "sacrificing" for him. To Fourth, it was just the natural help between best friends. But hearing an outsider like Prim say it made his heart feel heavy.
Was he taking too much from Gemini without even realizing it?
"I’ll... be better to him," Fourth said, more as a promise to himself than to Prim.
"And to me too?" Prim tilted her head, her playful smile returning.
"Of course," Fourth quickly took her hand on the table. "You're the most important one."
Prim smiled and squeezed his hand. But in that moment, Fourth remembered Gemini’s dark-circled eyes from the other night, the image of him slumped over the computer that he’d glimpsed in an old story, and his friend’s selfless enthusiasm.
The meal ended. Fourth walked Prim back. They took a short stroll under the fragrant frangipani trees.
"I had a great time today," Prim stopped in front of the dormitory lobby, turning to face Fourth.
"Me too," Fourth said, and he wasn't lying. He was happy because Prim was happy. That was his responsibility as a boyfriend.
Prim stood on her tiptoes and kissed Fourth lightly on the cheek. A quick kiss, light as a dragonfly skimming the water. "Goodnight, Fourth."
"Goodnight, Prim."
Fourth stood watching Prim’s silhouette disappear behind the glass doors. He reached up to touch his cheek where her lips had brushed. He turned to walk away. The night air was chilly. Fourth pulled out his phone, habitually intending to message Gemini that "mission was accomplished."
But his finger hovered over the screen.
Gemini: Online 1 minute ago.
Fourth tapped into the chat. The old messages scrolled by.
Mostly Fourth asking, Gemini answering. Fourth complaining, Gemini comforting. Fourth needing help, Gemini appearing.
He suddenly realized he had never once asked Gemini, "How was your day?", "Is the project okay?", or "Are you tired?"
Fourth turned off the screen and shoved the phone into his pocket. He looked up at the pitch-black sky, void of stars. The feeling of walking on thin ice came rushing back, clearer than ever. But this time, he wasn't sure if the ice was his relationship with Prim or his own thoughtlessness toward the person who always stood behind him.
Fourth walked alone in the night, his footsteps echoing on the paved path toward the men's dormitory, where perhaps a friend was still awake under a desk lamp, waiting for a message that might never come the way he hoped.