Fah, a third-year engineering student, believed in order, precision, and the unbreakable laws of physics. His world was one of meticulously drawn schematics and the satisfying click of a well-calibrated machine. That belief system, however, was about to be put to a rather chaotic test in the most unlikely of places: the university's bustling cafeteria.
It was just after noon, and the humid Bangkok air felt thick enough to chew. Fah, late for a project meeting, was navigating the crowded space with the single-minded focus of a bulldozer. In his haste, he failed to notice the small, portable espresso cart that had appeared in the middle of the main walkway, nor the person standing patiently in line.
A sickening crunch of plastic and a loud hiss of compressed air were the first signs of disaster. Fah, stumbling forward, collided squarely with a figure holding a steaming cup of coffee. The cup flew from their hand, arcing through the air in a perfect parabola before its contents landed with a devastating splash across the chest of a pristine white uniform.
"What the hell, Fah?" A sharp, incredulous voice cut through the cafeteria's din.
Fah looked up, his face a mask of mortification. Standing before him, his immaculate medical student uniform now stained a murky brown, was Tawan. Tawan was the bane of Fah's existence—a genius med student who seemed to glide through life with an infuriatingly effortless grace. Everything about him was polished, from his perfectly styled hair to his condescending smirk. Fah, on the other hand, was always slightly rumpled, a perpetual oil stain or smudge of graphite on his hands.
"Tawan? You're blocking the path! You can't just set up a coffee shop in the middle of a hallway," Fah shot back, the embarrassment quickly turning into anger.
"It's a charity bake sale, you cretin," Tawan retorted, his dark eyes narrowed into slits. "And you just ruined my favorite uniform. Do you know how hard it is to get coffee out of starched cotton?"
The crowd around them began to murmur, and Fah felt his cheeks flush. He looked at Tawan, at the perfect nose, the high cheekbones, the sculpted jawline—a face that belonged on a magazine cover, not splattered with espresso. And yet, even soaked in coffee, Tawan somehow managed to look infuriatingly beautiful. The thought hit Fah like a punch to the gut, making his stomach clench in a confusing and unwelcome way.
"I don't care," Fah mumbled, pulling a wad of crumpled baht from his pocket. "How much? Just... let me pay for the uniform and I'll be on my way."
Tawan's smirk returned, this time colder. He held up a hand, stopping Fah. "Don't bother. I'd rather you just stay out of my way from now on. The world is too small for us to keep running into each other, especially when one of us seems determined to cause a minor catastrophe every time we meet."
With that, Tawan turned on his heel and walked away, a trail of coffee-scented disapproval in his wake. Fah stood there for a moment, the heat of the cafeteria seeming to intensify. His initial rage at the man's arrogance was now clouded by the memory of a brief, captivating flash of vulnerability in Tawan's eyes just before the mask of disdain returned.
He hated Tawan. He was arrogant, snobbish, and now he was walking around with a coffee stain on his uniform all because of him. But as Fah finally made his escape, his mind replayed the incident not with a plan for revenge, but with a series of confusing, unwelcome images: the graceful arc of the coffee cup, the sharp, elegant lines of Tawan's face, the surprisingly soft sound of his voice even when he was furious. Fah shook his head, trying to clear the thoughts. He needed to focus on his engineering project, not on the infuriatingly attractive medical student who now officially topped his list of enemies.