Chapter Text
Tanrak had spent years building walls around his heart. And in a single moment beneath the quiet evening sky, Barth had broken through every one of them. No—Tanrak corrected himself as he stared blankly at the ceiling of his room. It wasn't Barth.
It was him.
He had been the one to lean in.
He had been the one to kiss Barth.
The memory returned with painful clarity. Barth's surprised eyes, the warmth of his hand, the brief silence that followed as if the world itself had stopped breathing.
Tanrak groaned and buried his face in his pillow.
"What was I thinking?" he muttered.
Yet despite the embarrassment burning across his face, his lips curved into the smallest smile.
For the first time in a long while, fear hadn't won.
The next morning, Tanrak arrived at university earlier than usual. Or perhaps he had simply been unable to sleep. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Barth's face from the night before—the surprise in his eyes, the warmth in his smile, and the silence that had followed after their kiss. Tanrak tightened his grip on the strap of his bag. He had spent days avoiding his feelings. Now he didn't know where to put them.
"You're here early." Tanrak nearly jumped.There, standing a few steps away with his usual easy smile, was Barth. As if nothing had changed. As if the world hadn't shifted beneath Tanrak's feet.
"You're early too," Tanrak replied, trying and failing to sound calm. Barth tilted his head. "Couldn't sleep."
Tanrak's breath caught.
Was Barth talking about the kiss?
Or was he reading too much into it?
An awkward silence settled between them. Not uncomfortable. Just unfamiliar. The kind that came after two people crossed a line neither of them could erase. Barth took a step closer. Not enough to invade Tanrak's space. Just enough for Tanrak to notice.
"So…" Barth began softly. "Are we pretending last night didn't happen?" Tanrak looked away immediately.
"I didn't say that."
"You also haven't looked at me once since I got here." Tanrak's ears burned.
That was because every time he looked at Barth, his heart forgot how to behave. Barth laughed quietly. Not teasing.
Gentle.
Patient.
It somehow made things worse.Tanrak finally forced himself to meet Barth's eyes. The moment their gazes met, the air between them felt different—full of questions neither of them knew how to ask.
"About yesterday…" Tanrak started.
Barth waited. For once, he didn't interrupt. Didn't joke. Didn't tease. He simply waited. And somehow, that made Tanrak even more nervous.
"I don't regret it," Tanrak admitted at last, his voice barely above a whisper.
Barth's expression softened. Neither of them said anything after that. Because sometimes, silence said more than words ever could.
By the time class started, Tanrak had convinced himself that he had regained control of his emotions. That confidence lasted exactly three minutes. Because Barth sat down beside him. As usual. As if the previous night hadn't changed everything. The professor had just begun writing notes on the board when Tanrak felt someone staring at him. He didn't need to look. He already knew.
"Stop staring," Tanrak whispered, keeping his eyes fixed on his notebook. Beside him, Barth rested his cheek on his hand.
"I'm not staring."
"You are."
"Can you blame me?" Barth asked quietly. "After last night?"
Tanrak nearly dropped his pen. His eyes widened as he turned to Barth.
"Keep your voice down!" Barth blinked innocently.
"What? I'm just talking."
"You're talking too loudly."
"No one can hear us."
Tanrak glanced nervously around the classroom. Several students were focused on the lecture, completely unaware of the conversation happening in the back row. Still, his heart refused to calm down.
"What if the teacher notices?" he hissed.
Barth's lips curved into a small smile.
"So that's what you're worried about?"
Tanrak froze. Of course Barth would notice. He always noticed. Barth leaned slightly closer—not enough to attract attention, but enough to make Tanrak acutely aware of his presence.
"You've been avoiding looking at me all morning," Barth whispered.
"I have not."
"You have."
"I haven't."
Barth's smile grew. Tanrak hated how unfair that smile was. And he hated even more that it still made his chest tighten. The professor suddenly called out, "Tanrak, can you answer the next question?"
Tanrak stood up so quickly that his chair scraped loudly against the floor. A few students turned to look. His face burned. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Barth trying—and failing—to hide his laughter. Tanrak shot him a glare that promised revenge. Barth only smiled wider. For the first time, Tanrak realized something dangerous. Barth was enjoying this. And somehow, despite all his embarrassment, Tanrak couldn't bring himself to mind.
The moment the bell rang for break, the classroom erupted into chatter. Students gathered in small groups, some heading for the cafeteria while others lingered near their desks. The earlier tension from class had faded into the familiar rhythm of school life. Or at least, it had for everyone except Tanrak. He was pretending to review his notes when a sudden commotion from the hallway caught everyone's attention.
"She's here!"
"Isn't that Cherry?"
"The girl from the church choir?"
Several students craned their necks toward the door.
Tanrak looked up just in time to see Cherry step into the classroom, offering everyone a polite smile. She wore a simple dress and held a folder against her chest.
"I came to pick up the music sheets for practice," she explained. "Father asked me to rehearse with Barth after school."
At the mention of Barth's name, the room immediately exploded with noise.
"Oho! Rehearsal again?"
"You two have been spending a lot of time together lately!"
"Barth, don't tell me something's going on!"
Barth sighed dramatically, though the grin tugging at his lips gave him away.
"Can you all stop making things up?"
Of course, his friends only laughed harder.
Everyone knew cherry likes barth. It wasnt exactly a secret. Cherry's cheeks turned pink, but she didn't deny it either. For some reason, that made something twist uncomfortably in Tanrak's chest. He lowered his gaze to his notebook.
It shouldn't matter.
Barth could spend time with whoever he wanted.
They weren't— Tanrak stopped himself.
Weren't what? Friends? More than friends? He didn't know. And perhaps that uncertainty bothered him most of all.
"Barth, why don't you walk Cherry to the music room?" one of the boys suggested with a mischievous grin.
"Yeah! Such a gentleman."
Another student nudged Barth playfully. "You'd make a cute couple." The classroom burst into teasing laughter.
Tanrak tightened his grip on his pen. Too tight. The tip snapped. A sharp crack echoed across his desk. The laughter around him faded for a brief second. Barth turned immediately.
"Tanrak?"
Tanrak stared at the broken pen in his hand. His expression remained calm. Far too calm.
"I'm fine," he said quietly.
But even to his own ears, the words didn't sound convincing. And for the first time that day, the smile on Barth's face disappeared. The classroom slowly returned to its usual noise, but Barth's eyes remained on Tanrak. He knew that expression. Tanrak only wore it when something was bothering him. And he was terrible at hiding it.
"Are you sure you're okay?" Barth asked quietly.
Tanrak reached for another pen from his bag without looking up. "I said I'm fine."
Short. Too short. Barth raised an eyebrow. Definitely not fine. Cherry glanced between them, sensing the strange atmosphere. "Did something happen?" Before Barth could answer, Tanrak stood up from his seat.
"I need some air." He left before anyone could stop him. The classroom fell silent for a moment. One of the boys scratched the back of his head. "Did we say something wrong?" Barth didn't answer immediately. His gaze lingered on the doorway Tanrak had just disappeared through. Then, with a small sigh, he stood up as well.
"I'll be back."
"Whoa!" one of the boys shouted. "Leaving Cherry behind already?"
Another laughed. "Barth, you're supposed to be rehearsing with your partner!"
Barth waved them off. "Practice can wait a few minutes."
Barth left the classroom and fount tanrak near the corridor overlooking the school courtyard. The afternoon breeze stirred his hair as he stared down at the students below. Quiet. Distant. Barth slowed his steps. For someone who usually kept everyone at arm's length, Tanrak looked strangely vulnerable from behind. Barth walked over and stood beside him. Neither spoke at first. The silence between them no longer felt unfamiliar. After last night, silence had become its own language. Finally, Barth spoke.
"You broke your pen."
Tanrak kept his eyes ahead. "I'll buy another one."
"Tanrak."
There it was. That voice. The one Barth only used when he was serious. Tanrak's fingers tightened against the railing.
"What?"
Barth tilted his head slightly, trying to catch his expression.
"Were you upset?"
Tanrak immediately answered.
"No."
Too quickly. Barth almost smiled. There was the Tanrak he knew. Stubborn. Terrible at lying. And unexpectedly adorable when flustered. Barth leaned casually against the railing.
"You know," he said lightly, "if something's bothering you, you can tell me."
Tanrak finally looked at him. Their eyes met. For a moment, the noise of the school seemed to fade away. There were questions in Barth's gaze. And answers Tanrak wasn't ready to give. So instead, Tanrak looked away first. Just as he always did. But this time, Barth noticed something different. Tanrak hadn't stepped away. He had stayed. Barth stepped a little closer—not enough to crowd him, just enough to be heard over the noise drifting up from the courtyard.
"So tell me honestly," he said softly.
"Are you uncomfortable because of the choir?"
Or— The question lingered unfinished between them. Tanrak knew what Barth was really asking. Is it the choir? Or is it me being close to someone else? Tanrak lowered his gaze. For years, fear had made every answer easy. Deny. Avoid. Run. But after last night's kiss, lying suddenly felt much harder. His fingers tightened against the railing.
"I'm not uncomfortable with the choir," he admitted at last.
Barth remained silent. Waiting. Patiently. Tanrak swallowed. The rest of the sentence sat heavily in his chest. I'm uncomfortable because it's you. Because I don't know what we are. Because I don't want to lose what I've just found. But he wasn't ready to say any of that. Not yet. Still, the way Barth's expression softened told him that perhaps— Barth already understood.
"I really don't have a problem with it."
His voice was soft but steady. Barth waited. Tanrak continued, forcing himself to meet Barth's eyes.
"The choir. Your performance with Cherry."
He took a small breath.
"It's important to the church, isn't it? You shouldn't quit because of me."
The words felt heavier than he expected. Because somewhere deep inside, a selfish part of him had wanted exactly that. He Wanted Barth to choose him. But another part—the larger part—could never ask for it. Barth studied him for a moment. As if searching for something hidden beneath his words.
"You're sure?" he asked quietly.
Tanrak nodded.
"I'm sure."
The answer came a little too quickly. A little too carefully. Barth noticed. Of course he noticed. But this time, he didn't say anything. He didn't press further. Instead, he smiled—a small, gentle smile that reached his eyes.
"Okay."
Just one word. Simple. Yet somehow, it made Tanrak's chest tighten. Barth leaned back against the railing and looked up at the sky.
"Then I'll do it."
Tanrak gave a small nod.
"Mm."
Another silence settled between them.
Not awkward. Not uncomfortable. Just full of things left unsaid. The bell suddenly rang through the corridor, signaling the end of break. Students began hurrying back to their classrooms. Barth straightened.
"We should head back."
Tanrak nodded again. But as they walked side by side toward the classroom, their hands brushed for the briefest moment. Neither pulled away immediately. And for one quiet heartbeat— it felt like they were no longer standing at the beginning of something. They were already in it.
The church hall was quieter in the evening. Golden light filtered through the stained-glass windows, painting soft colors across the wooden floor. A few choir members chatted near the piano while others arranged sheet music for practice. Tanrak sat in one of the back pews, arms folded across his chest. He told himself he was only there because Father had asked for extra help setting up chairs.
That was all.
At least, that was what he kept telling himself. Near the front of the hall, Barth and Cherry stood side by side with their music sheets.
"Let's start from the second verse?" Cherry suggested.
Barth nodded. "Sure."
The rehearsal began. From where he sat, Tanrak could hear their voices blend together with surprising ease. Every now and then, Cherry would miss a note and laugh softly at herself. Barth laughed too.
Not mockingly.
Warmly.
Patiently.
Tanrak looked away. Then looked back. Then immediately regretted it. Cherry adjusted the sheet music in Barth's hands. Barth said something Tanrak couldn't hear. Cherry covered her mouth as she laughed. And there it was again— that uncomfortable feeling pressing against his chest. He frowned. Why was he feeling this way? Hadn't he told Barth that he had no problem with the performance? He had. And he meant it. Didn't he? Tanrak lowered his gaze to the hymn book resting in his lap. Cherry was kind. Everyone knew that.
She was thoughtful, cheerful, and got along with everyone she met. She shared Barth's faith. She sang in the choir. Even Father seemed fond of her. People always said they looked good together. Maybe they were right. His fingers tightened slightly around the edge of the book. Cherry was everything people expected. And Barth— Barth deserved someone good. Someone warm. Someone unafraid. Someone who didn't spend years running from his own feelings. Tanrak's throat felt strangely tight. He watched as Cherry smiled at Barth again.
And Barth smiled back. They looked natural standing together. As if they belonged in the same picture. A thought slipped into Tanrak's mind before he could stop it. Maybe Cherry is perfect for him. The moment the thought appeared, his chest ached. Not sharply. Just enough to make breathing feel a little different.
Tanrak lowered his head. He had told Barth to continue the choir. He had said he was fine. So why did watching it feel so difficult? Across the hall, Barth suddenly glanced toward the pews.
Their eyes met.
For a brief moment, everything else seemed to fade—the choir members, the music, the evening light. Barth smiled. The same smile he had given Tanrak that morning. The same smile from after the kiss.
Tanrak's heart stumbled. And for the first time that evening, he wasn't sure whether that made things easier— or much, much harder.
By the time the last of the choir members had gathered their sheets and drifted out of the hall, the space had fallen into a quieter kind of stillness. The stained-glass light had shifted slightly, dimmer now, stretching longer shadows across the wooden floor. The echo of practice still lingered faintly, like the room hadn’t fully let go of the music yet. Tanrak stayed seated for a moment longer than necessary. Just until everyone left. Just until he could breathe again without feeling watched. He finally stood, adjusting the strap of his bag, ready to leave without drawing attention to himself.
“Tanrak.”
The voice stopped him immediately. He didn’t need to turn around to know who it was. Still, he did.
Barth was walking toward him from the front of the hall, hands loosely at his sides, expression unreadable but focused. The others were gone now. Only the two of them remained.
Tanrak’s grip tightened slightly on his bag strap. “What?”
Barth stopped a few steps away. For a moment, neither of them spoke.
The silence felt heavier now that the room was empty.
“You left early,” Barth said finally.
“I didn’t.”
Barth raised an eyebrow.
Tanrak exhaled slowly, then corrected himself. “I stayed until it ended.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
Tanrak looked away. Of course it wasn’t. Barth stepped a little closer, not closing the distance completely, but enough that Tanrak couldn’t ignore him.
“I kept watching you,” Barth said quietly.
Tanrak stiffened. “You were performing.”
“I can perform and still notice you.”
That line made Tanrak’s chest tighten again. He hated that it did. Barth studied him for a moment longer, then spoke more softly.
“You were quiet the whole time.”
“I was listening.”
“To them?” Barth asked.
A pause.
Tanrak didn’t answer immediately. Because the truth was simple. He hadn’t been listening to them. He had been watching. And thinking too much. Barth’s gaze sharpened slightly, like he already knew the answer but wanted to hear it anyway.
“Or to yourself?”
That question landed too close. Tanrak let out a slow breath.
“I didn’t like seeing you with her,” he said finally.
The words came out lower than he intended.
Honest.
Unfiltered.
And immediately, his expression tightened as if he regretted letting them slip.
“I know it’s stupid,” he added quickly. “I know you were just practicing. I know it’s normal. I told you I was fine but—”
He stopped. Because he wasn’t fine. And pretending was getting harder every time Barth looked at him like that.
Tanrak’s voice dropped.
“I just… can’t really stand seeing you together like that.”
Silence followed. Tanrak stared down at the floor, jaw tightening. This was exactly why he shouldn’t have said anything. Now Barth would think he was ridiculous. Or worse.
Controlling.
He swallowed.
“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “If I made things awkward. Or if I’m being unreasonable.” A pause.Then, almost reluctantly:
“If you’re angry… just tell me.”
His fingers tightened around his bag strap.
“I won’t do it again.”
For a moment, the only sound in the hall was the distant wind slipping through the stained-glass windows. Barth didn’t respond immediately. And that silence— made Tanrak’s chest feel heavier than anything else that day.
The silence stretched just long enough for Tanrak to start regretting every word he had said.
Then Barth finally spoke.
“Tanrak.”
The tone was softer this time.
Not teasing.
Not confused.
Just… understanding.
Tanrak looked up despite himself. Barth stood where he was, hands still relaxed at his sides, but his expression had changed. The usual playful edge was gone, replaced with something steadier.
“I’m not angry,” Barth said simply.
Tanrak blinked. “You’re not?”
Barth shook his head once.
“No.”
Another pause.
Then, more carefully, “And you’re not being unreasonable.”
That made Tanrak freeze slightly. He hadn’t expected that. Barth let out a small breath, like he was choosing his words instead of just saying them.
“I think I understand what you’re feeling,” he continued.
Tanrak’s throat tightened.
“You don’t,” Tanrak said quickly, almost reflexively. “It’s not— I know it doesn’t make sense. It’s just—”
“It does make sense,” Barth interrupted gently.
That stopped him. Barth took a step closer again, but this time it didn’t feel intrusive. It felt deliberate. Like he wanted Tanrak to actually hear him.
“When someone important to you is close to another person,” Barth said slowly, “even if you trust them… it still feels strange.”
Tanrak’s eyes flickered down. Barth continued, quieter now.
“And when you’re not used to understanding your own feelings properly, it gets even harder to deal with.”
That sentence landed too accurately. Tanrak’s fingers loosened slightly on his bag strap without him noticing. Barth tilted his head a little, studying him.
“You think I don’t get it?” he asked softly. “I do.”
A faint, almost amused breath left him.
“I just didn’t expect you to say it out loud.”
Tanrak’s ears warmed slightly.
“…I shouldn’t have.”
“You should,” Barth said immediately.
Tanrak looked up again. Barth’s gaze was steady.
“I asked you,” he added. “And you answered honestly.”
Then Barth’s expression softened again.
“So don’t apologize for that.”
Tanrak’s lips parted slightly, but no words came out.
Because this wasn’t what he had expected.
No anger.
No teasing.
No distance.
Just acceptance.
Barth shifted his weight slightly, glancing briefly toward the empty hall before looking back at Tanrak.
“I won’t stop the choir,” he said. “And I won’t avoid Cherry either. But…” He paused.
Tanrak’s chest tightened again, bracing himself without meaning to. Barth continued, gentler than before.
“I also won’t ignore how you feel.”
A quiet silence followed. Not heavy this time.
Tanrak finally spoke, voice lower.
“I don’t know why I feel like this.”
Barth gave a small nod.
“That’s okay.”
Another pause.
Then Barth added, almost lightly but still sincere:
“You don’t have to figure everything out all at once.”
Tanrak looked at him for a long moment. Like he was trying to find the part where this became a joke.
But it didn’t. Barth was just standing there.
Waiting.
Not pushing.
Not leaving.
“Tanrak,” he said.
“Hm?”
A brief pause. Then Barth tilted his head slightly, as if weighing whether to say it out loud.
“Do you want to go back to the dorm?”
Tanrak blinked, slightly thrown off. “Now?”
Barth nodded.
“It’s quiet right now. No one should be there.”
Tanrak frowned a little. “Why?”
For a second, Barth didn’t answer. His gaze flickered away—just for a moment—before returning to Tanrak’s face. And something in it had changed again.
Softer. But more intense.
“I just…” Barth started, then stopped.
Tanrak waited. Barth let out a quiet breath, like he was holding something back with effort.
“I don’t think I should stay here much longer.”
Tanrak’s brow furrowed. “Did I say something else wrong?”
“No.” Barth answered immediately.
Too fast. Then he shook his head once, correcting himself.
“You didn’t do anything wrong.”
A pause. His voice lowered slightly.
“It’s just… being here with you right now.”
Tanrak went still. Barth’s eyes didn’t leave his this time.
“It’s a little hard to think clearly.”
That sentence hung between them. Unfinished. Heavy in a different way than before. Tanrak’s throat tightened slightly, his grip on the bag loosening without him realizing.
“…Hard to think?” he repeated quietly.
Barth gave a faint, almost helpless smile.
“Yeah.”
Another pause. Then, more carefully, he added:
“So I thought maybe we should go somewhere quieter.”
Tanrak studied him for a long moment. Barth didn’t move closer.
Didn’t tease.
Didn’t joke.
Just waited.
And in that stillness, Tanrak could feel something shifting again between them—something he couldn’t name, but couldn’t ignore either. Finally, Tanrak nodded once.
“…Okay.”
Barth’s expression softened immediately, almost like relief.
“Okay,” he repeated quietly.
And neither of them said what they were actually thinking as they finally turned to leave the empty hall side by side.